Nail Clippers

Can't see my laptop screen today. Never a good sign. This may make no sense at all depending on how good my touch typing actually is. Not to mention my spelling, which as you will know is atrocious any day. Normally I am saved by Chrome's ability to catch me out with the squiggly red line of wrong-ness, but perhaps that won't work out today.

There is something very unsettling about being in a car with a taxi driver who says nothing and has a pair of
H U G E
nail clippers on his keyring.


That is one of the nice things about blogging I have decided. Especially on a blog which has no followers and no-one particularly reads. I can pretty much say whatever I like and get away with it. 

Oh by the way, did I tell you I found out what Aziz does for a job? No? Then I'll tell you now. He's a medcin sapeur pompier. Yes, I just totally guessed the spelling of that, don't judge me. It means he's a doctor fireman, which I'm pretty sure is a job most 5 year old boys expect to have when they grow up. But it's real. It involves him chilling and watching TV until something major happens, and then screaming down the highway at sillly-miles-an-hour to save them all. Pretty cool really.

I have class now.