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While We're Waiting

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caldrail

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A few nights ago I took a moment to take in the view overlooking the valley below my home. In Roman times it was verdant countryside with a farmyard at the bottom of the hill. Even in victorian times it was a green belt between the old market town on the hill and the new industrial village built for Brunel's new railway. Now it's urban sprawl, with an abandoned college building dominating the view.

 

I'm used to seeing movement in the back yard and the alleys leading from it. People use the area as a shortcut to and fro their favourite drinking holes. They sometimes park cars there in the evening in the search for a cheap place to hopefully leave their vehicle undisturbed. Revellers occaisionally wander back and forth along the street nearby. At this hour however, it's the quiet after the socialising is done and before the local burglars come out to play.

 

It seems the local wildlife sense that too. I guess they become accustomed to our movements and know full well that the wee small hours are the safest bet for an undisturbed scrounge in the rubbish we leave behind. Urban foxes have made a name for themselves doing exactly that, though as I predicted, the piercing screech they make has been absent for a while now. But I wasn't dissappointed. As I watched, a solitary badger trotted down the lane, crossed the road, and headed for his favourite scrounging ground. Unlike the foxes the badger remains silent, preferring not to draw attention to itself, and moves quickly in case someone does spot it.

 

Somewhere nearby the badger will find discarded chips, kebabs, or any other takeaway that a drunken customer couldn't keep hold of. Nature doesn't miss a trick, does it?

 

Wetness Expected

The morning is cloudy and although it isn't actually damp, you can sense the rain waiting to unleash wetness upon unsuspecting Swindon residents. it is of course the remnant of Hurricane Irene that's heading across the country, now downgraded to a band of rainclouds. As I headed for the library this morning I could feel the rain in the air, that sort of prickly sensation on the face that precedes something a good deal wetter.

 

People don't seem to be aware of the forecast rain. Despite the drab greyness, most of those I see outside on the street are still dressed in summer clothes, though oddly scarves seem to a fashionable addition. Their faith in scarves is probably not going to help them this afternoon, but then, I've been caught in one too many downpours to believe that staying dry is all that easy in Britain. How fortunate then that really strong cyclonic winds are so rare in our otherwise dampened contry.

 

No Longer Flat

So concerned are the Netherlands that the approach of Irene will cause flooding that they're investing millions of euro's to build an artificial mountain, Holland's first ever At last the dutch will be able to enter an olympic skiing team, though infairness, their athletes had better hurry because London 2012 is but months away. I know. I've seen the constant reminders on television.

 

It does occur to me that all of a sudden there's a danger to aviation in the area. Pilots do have a slight tendency to make controlled flight into terrain now and then, so anyone hoping to fly in Holland beware. There's a new mountain to avoid very shortly. Imagine if the nazi's had thought of that one. None of the Dambusters would have made it to the Rhine.

 

Having A Say

"Have you got any ideas?" The boos at the museum asked me, looking for inspirtation to extend the social activities that keep customers arriving through our doors. Why? Why does he think we're struggling? My last 'graveyard' shift was the busiest ever, with zombies arriving to pay the entrance fee at a regular pace. Some of them even bought books from the museum shop too.

 

I thought for a moment, considering the possibilities and the sort of people we encourage to visit, and just as I was about to speak....

 

Whirrrrrrrr

 

Evil robot, perched on the side of the front desk, made an electronic groan. Shut up.

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Are you suggesting that the great god of weather is not going to bless our british festival of winning medals? His priests on television will point at their sacred maps and proclaim an unusually cold snap. Or do you have doubts? Or do you speak out against the weather god, unbeliever!

 

PS - Must keep pile of stones handy.

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" I'm warning you if you speak out against the weather god again I'll........(stone smashes against his head)

 

"Right! Who threw that?"................"C'mon, who threw that???"

 

"she did, she did,....HE DID, HE DID, HIM, HIM!!!!"

 

 

"No one is to stone anyone until I blow this whistle, is that clear???

 

 

Classic!

 

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Nah, you're safe. The British only react in a negative way when you use the phrase 'Jehovahs Witness'. At which point we throw tantrums, abuse, and buckets of water at our unwelcome guests, or perhaps just a polite "Go away" if you don't want to get into the newspapers.

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Californians often will listen politely for a few seconds, then politely say "No thanks" before slamming the door in their faces. I noticed that Texans, on the other hand, often come to the door with a shotgun...one extreme to the other, I guess.

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