Noseh

My Dear Princess & Dear Fellows,

I think I may have mentioned that Smock has one or two habits which annoy me, like wittering on about crap and farting.

Oh, haven't I mentioned those before?

In that case; she witters on about crap and farts a lot.

I have learned to tune out 90% of the meaningless drivel, and I usually find an excuse to leave my desk until the yellow fug clears. For example, yesterday Lemon was going to get a coffee.

"FFFRRRPRPPP!" commented Smock's bottom.
"I'll come with you," I said to Lemon.

So that is how it is in the office. But Smock has another habit which is probably the one that gets furthest up my arsehole. She is "noseh".

I don't know why it is, but the more people WANT to pry into my private doings, the more I'm determined to hide them. Take Lemon, for example, she couldn't give a flying eff about my private life; consequently she knows all about it. Because I tell her. I don't MIND sharing it in pleasant conversation. Or indeed, on a public social media blippy board.

But Smock. She gets NOTHING from me. "Oh ye've bin shoppin' 'ave yer?" she will ask when I come back to my desk with a shopping bag. I can see her craning her neck so she can see what brand of bog rolls I've bought.

"Oh, yes, yes...." I'll say in a non-committal manner.

Other times, she'll just out-and-out announce her nosiness, as if that excuses it. I had a magazine on my desk the other day, and she came around to peer at it. "Ah'm just being noseh," she told me.

I don't know WHY this irritates me so much. I'm not that private a person, but it does. The shields go up. The walls will not be breached. I find myself childishly hoarding facts from her; things which are not remotely important to me will not be divulged, not even if I was being waterboarded.

"Did ye do anything interesting on the weekend?"
"Oh er... not really..."

Like that.

Maybe it's because her accent and her manner reminds me of Roger the Nob. He was also incurably noseh. But he was worse in that, once he'd discovered something about you, he'd follow it up with a sneer.

"Oh, yer goin' t' pictures are ye?" he'd say. "Ah, ah, don't care for Hollywood films meself, I only ever watch FRENCH films yew know."

He pronounced the word, "Hollywood" so that it rhymed with "manure".

He'd even hover behind your back, reading your emails over your shoulder, then flounce off with a tut.

By comparison, Smock's prying is relatively harmless, and she never reads my emails. Take that smock off her, and strap on a stupid tank-top and she COULD be Roger the Nob though.

I wonder if it's the accent? Has Roger the Nob ruined the Yorkshire accent for me?

Hmmm... Must do something about this. I shall watch an entire series of "Open All Hours" in an attempt to cure myself.

S.