As well a ticket to fail at lent, the package that crappy royal mail finally gave to me contained my main birthday present, a small MP3 player.
To be honest, I’m impressed, it looks like an iPod Shuffle, plus around a third of the price. It’s a bit dodgy switching it off, but after 1 day of near constant usage, it’s still working. I’ll be honest, there’s been two reasons why I have been late to join the MP3 generation: one of which is unfounded, one has reared it’s ugly head.
The unfounded one is simple: I swear it was going to kill me. Basically, my road and traffic awareness is crap. It’s amazing why I am actually still alive, as the Green Cross Code Man Films had no effect on me. He must look at me, and think that I’m the luckiest man alive. All you drivers: you know those people who dart out inbetween cars on a busy high street, or cross on a red? That my friends is me. It’s your insurance premiums that will go up, not mine.
I was worried on my first MP3 assisted, hearing impaired walk to work that I’d step out in front of an 18 Wheeler, but alas no. In fact I seemed to be more alert and more cautious, I have no idea why. But I’ve made it into work in one piece, aren’t you all happy.
The second reason was that I’m very much a singer. I can’t sing good, I sing loud. Usually I’m drowned out by whatever tune is playing at the moment. With an MP3 that’s not the case though, and – at 8am this morning – people were giving me funny looks as I was singing B*Witched’s “C’est La Vie” down London Road.
One thing that I’ve been listening to is the Ricky Gervais podcast. In 12 episodes, they’ve made themselves the most popular podcast on the interweb. Which has me thinking.
Could I podcast?
I’ve done a little piece of research on it and it seems impossible, and it doesn’t seem to difficult. I’d have to get my nerve up to do one – the first one would probably be after a couple of ales (I’m at my most intelligent, my most witty and my most sexual after two pints), but a lot of people says I’ve got a dreamy voice (thier words, not mine. I think I sound like I’ve got a sock shoved up my nose).
But, the question is, would you listen to it?