Ask yourself what sort of weekend you had. Mine was windy. That's probably because october is Swindon's Windy Season anyway, but I guess most of the country were experiencing blustery conditions as well. Nonetheless I was bored so venturing out on the saturday night was definitely on.
Getting drunk is a bit expensive these days. So much so that landmark pubs are being demolished here in Swindon. There are two closed premises just down the road from me that are going to be turned into flats i
Dampness is the order of the day. Gone is the warm sunshine of yesterday, when I took a stroll through Lawns Wood. Getting out and about means you sometimes encounter unusual sights, and yesterday was no exception.
Firstly I came across a fashion shoot in progress. You don't see that in Swindon very often. Young ladies in the latest summer styles waited patiently as the photographers and commercial directors relayed endless instructions on poise, expression, movement, and what to do about id
I opened the curtains this morning to see a clear blue sky. That happens sometimes, and there's no reason to be concerned, because the sky usually clouds over within a couple of hours.
There's a very lazy mood in Swindon right now. The garage mechanics across the yard are more bothered about cups of tea than mechanical problems, but then they always were. The yard isn't full of cars either, but then, with all the rubbish being deposited in the alleyway that allows access, that's no wonder.
I hate the internet. It all looks colourful, quick, and easy. But no matter how much I try, there's never a version of the interesting looking pages in english, the downloads get filtered out by web security, the online application system sends you round in circles, and the company that requires you to log on doesn't send you the password reminder. That about sums up the day so far.
I've wasted tons of time trying to get this to work. Now I've got ten minutes to write todays blog entry. Okay
Having received that email yesterday from an arab sheik it came as a shock to see the news revealing a terrorist plot to assassinate a saudi diplomat had been foiled by American authorities. I doubt the two are connected in any way - I don't even know if the email is genuine - but the thought that my flippant comments on the blog yesterday might have serious implications is a bit of a sobering thought.
I can easily imagine a budget airline jet halted on the tarmac while two dark suited secur
The Programme Centre has moved. They were inhabiting a pokey little place in that peculiar brick complex in the corner by the pub. You'd think that was very convenient, except the pub in question is a real 'sawdust on the floor and spit your broken teeth in the bucket please' kind of place.
I was in there a few years back, quietly minding my own business, nursing a pint like several others. In came a bunch of lads, making a lot of noise, bouncinng off the walls. To be honest I didn't pay mu
What makes me happy? Various things. I used to enjoy driving fast cars and flying aeroplanes, but sadly life in the fast lane is no longer available to me. A good game on the PC? It helps if your computer works of course. I got mine back from the repairers yesterday evening after a heated phone call only to discover that they hadn't connected the sound.
What about sex? That's a luxury increasingly scarce in my middle age and a news item tells us that couples shouldn't sleep together because
There's an advert on television for fruit juice. A man goes to work through San Francisco and announces to his radio audience that 'Today os gonna be a great day'.
Well, I won't be buying any fruit juice, but yes, this morning feels very much like that. Except Swindon isn't on the Bay of Angels and there aren't any trams going up and down Victoria Hill any more. To be honest, Swindon really isn't all that exotic. Somehow I think choosing San Francisco for the advert was a better choice.
I've always said that you can tell a lot about someone by the way they enter a room. DW, our intrepid reporter for the online wiltshire magazine, always seems to enter a room without having to open the door. That's quite a classy entry and frankly I'm envious. My personal battles with doors are the stuff of legend.
It turns out that DW has just interviewed a celebrity for his website. I've never heard of her before but I 'm sure she's very famous. Yet no sooner had I poured scorn on his late
You'll have to excuse me. I'm in a bit of a hurry. Not only have I had a full day of doing this or seeing to that, not only a frantic effort to complete enough jobsearch activity to please the frigid hearts of my government paymasters, but I need to get home real quick because today is the End Of The World!
Again.
Hopefully I'll survive this one as I did the last. With the biggie End Of The World due in little over a years time one can only hope I'll survive the entire trilogy. As for t
Earlier this morning I opened the back window and looked out across the Old College site. It's looking very shabby now. The lead lining on the cafetria and hall roof has been stripped off, and without the verdigrised grey cladding, it now looks oddly naked in flesh coloured wood panels. the tower block at the end clearly shows sign of temporary visits by vandals and homeless people. Smashed glass and boarded up windows.
A couple of days ago I spotted a hydraulic lift up the side of the tower
Among the swathes of destruction wreaked by mother nature recently, America is not denied its fair share of it. That much I can see in the news, although in fairness what it must be like to suffer floods and tornado's is thankfully beyond my experience. I wonder if all this damage to peoples lives is making Americans seek a life elsewhere? I ask that question because of late I've noticed an increasing number of americans in Swindon.
For instance, there was the chap who glanced at me in a sor
Swindon is a place of opposites. A place that is comfortable with its future but not with its past. A place that aspires to be a city but cannot free itself of a small town attitude. A place that is ribbed by comedians and... well... deserves to be. This paragraph alone probably puts me on a council ninja hit-list but I shall not be silenced.
I saw a letter in the local newspaper written by a concerned visitor. His Swindon experience was marred by the number of rats running round the old pla
Having been so impressed with that new footbridge across the railway line, today I decided to head out for a hike in country. Get some fresh air, exercise, and a few cool pictures of no possible use to anyone. Of course I did the requisite job search at the library first. Always see to your chores.
There we go. A bunch of cool pictures taken and time to head off into the hills. I did make a half hearted attempt to photograph a passing train, just for the heck of it you understand, but I wasn
A quick glance through the news is always the same thing. Once again the plight of residents in Queensland, Australia, takes centrestage, but the the usual collection of political and financial wrangling makes life seem one long argument from start to finish. No wonder people turn to soap operas. What's the alternative? Learning that a female celebrity was sleeping with a different guy every night as one newspaper headline proclaimed this morning?
How much of our news is nothing more than e
"Hello!" She shouted from across the road. Huh? Is she talking to me? The woman doesn't look familiar but she seems to know who I am.
"It's me!" She shouted. Yes I can see that, but I haven't a clue who she is. I look around in case there's someone else nearby.
Oh no, she's walking across the pedestrian crossing toward me and she's got a big expectant grin on her fiace. You know, this is going to be embarrasing. I simply make a gesture of ignorance and tell her I haven't a clue who she i
That's it. Game over. I've lost all my data. Everything. Eight years work, lost in a moment of electrical fireworks.
It's official too. The data recovery people left me with backups of broken fragments and random folders full of files I've never seen before.
If this was merely an accident, a chance occurence, fate, or simply bad luck, well, what can one do?
If this was a deliberate act by someone somehow, then what was it for? What did they achieve? You can't create something positiv
On my way to the library this afternoon I happened to pass along an old footpath in Okus. It dates from before the town of Swindon grew across this particular stretch of farmland in the 60's. In fact, I used to walk that way going to school. There was always that two tone blue sports car parked in someones drive that I used to fantasise over. Back then, I hadn't any idea what it was, but in the passing of years I've come to know it was a TVR Tasmin, and why it was always parked in the drive.
Nearly lunchtime and I nearly forgot I was supposed to be at the programme centre for a one to one session on how to apply for vacancies. You'd think that after three years of job searching I'd have learned some employment skills, but the government assume you're a dunce and teach you anyway.
Oh well, here goes. As it happens I now have a mentor. A bit like Yoda, but taller, female, and not quite as green. A 'Yodess' in other words. I like they way she stares silently in disapproval whenever
How things change. Years ago, in more affluent times, I could drive into town and quickly find a parking space while I popped down to the shops. Pay for a spot in the council car park? I think not.
The situation changed with the resident parking schemes. Fed up with visitors like me clogging up the streets - though in fairness it was the long stay parking of commuters from outside the town who were the worst offenders - Swindon was divided up into zones and if you didn't pay the fee, you go
"How long have I got mate?" Asked an optimistic motorist at the bottom of the hill last night, planning to use the loading bays cut into the pavement. He was of course not asking the question to me, but one of the two traffic wardens busy handing out tickets to motorists who didn't think to ask.
I can't call them traffic wardens anymore (nor anything less polite). Instead, they're called Traffic Flow Monitoring & Enforcement Officers or something similar. I should know. I've applied to
There are those who say I don't write enough about sex. Certainly they want more gossip about my girlfriends, but unfortunately, since becoming long term unemployed I can no longer afford them, and in any case, women aren't usually turned on by flirtacious old fogies unless they also happen to be filfthy rich. Despite continued investigations by the Department of Work & Pensions, it appears I'm just another poverty stricken claimant.
However, I shall not be daunted. Here then is the scan
Late last night I got bored with my struggles with computers that know more about information technology that I do. Technical stuff gets a bit dull when you get nowhere with it. Instead, I decided to chill out with a video game and discovered getting trashed by pixellated space aliens is no more interesting than arguing with my computer.
For a while I listened to the radio instead. An hour or two of classic rock, an hour or two of back to back adverts for stuff you'll never buy, and an hour
In the beginning, God said "Let there be light". And he saw that it was good. So good in fact that we human beings have invented little contrivances to achieve the same result ever since. First we invented fire (and what fun we've had with that!), and finally in the 21st century we've reached the very pinnacle of light engineering, that silly little thing screwed into the ceiling of my bathroom. Unfortunately, and much to my chagrin, I'm not God, so now the blessed thing has stopped working.
Sorry to disappoint you all, but there aren't any camels in my bed. Far from it, I'm warm, comfy, and indulging in a spot of Sunday laziness which I don't often fall prey to. Why waste a day? Sunday is no different.
However, the instinct to wake up and go about my daily business is quite strong. Russian scientists would point and tell me that's learned behaviour. They're almost certainly right. Look how dogs uncannily know what the time is despite being intectually incapable of using a clock
