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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  1. caldrail

    Getting Squeaky

    By caldrail,

    I knew it was going to happen. My neighbour, Punch, is nothing if not predictable. On the Sunday I had left the house for an early morning hike to take advantage of the glorious good weather. With squeaky floorboards and no sound insulation between our properties, it's impossible to be silent, though in fairness I have no intention of making an unnecessary racket. I am after all required by the letting contract not to do things that upset the neighbours.
     
    But my early morning departure was impossible for his slavic masculinity to ignore. Anything I do that impacts on his life in any degree whatsoever is regarded as a challenge to his status as the 'take no crap' member of society he clearly wants to be. So this morning he slammed doors and shelves with total abandon before he left for work. As I say , I knew he would. That was why I had an early night previously.
     
    Seeking Something Interesting
    Yesterday was the televised coverage of the Chines Grand Prix. Shall I watch it? Dunno... It is motor racing after all, and I do like a bit of that, but for me Formula One fails to energise that part of my anatomy that makes me all excitable about it. Sorry, but Formula One is incredibly dull. It really is.
     
    Why that should be is hard to figure out. On the one hand the personalities involved don't seem as larger-than-life as they once were. They all seem squeaky clean boy-next-door types. They all make shy smiles and talk quietly like they're uncomfortable with all the attention they're getting. And the cars are so horribly anonymous and ugly these days, like carrion birds daubed in warpaint because you couldn't tell one from the other if they didn't. There's nothing really attractive about them, no real artistry, just a total surrender to computer aided efficiency that leaves me cold.
     
    On the other hand, another channel was showing the BTCC event at Donnington. Ginetta Junior and GT, Formula Renault, Touring Cars, and a few other race categories, all jostling for prizes in races where you see competition in a lot less timid fashion than Formula One demands. Sorry Bernie, but Donnington was more fun to watch.
  2. caldrail
    For some strange reason the museum sells plastic balls that play voices from Family Guy. Only one on the premises actually works. We know, because we conducted a quality test this morning. I guess you had to be there.
     
    Missed Call
    My mentor at the programme centre is getting a little anxious. She's keen to get me a job before I finish the course and the frequency of her emails has gone up an order of magnitude. What makes it worse is that she doesn't seem to understand I have no internet connection at home, thus she sends an email containing some vacancy specs, followed by an email asking me to contact her, then an email telling me she's applied on my behalf anyway.
     
    Anything else? No, that seems to be it. By now she's probably suffering from stress and anxiety attacks in the futile hope that I'll answer my mobile phone too. So this morning I left the programme centre having left a job application untouched for twenty four hours completely unaware. I am going to get soooo slapped next week...
     
    In Other News
    The museum's robot was fired up this morning. It worked too. It was really spooky watching the thing flex its fingers menacingly. After performing what resembled a stiff legged dance it started complaining in a monotone distorted voice.
     
    I am not making this up. The destruction of Mankind begins here.
  3. caldrail

    Comings And Goings

    By caldrail,

    Just in case you all thought I was going to do something impulsive or inspirational, fear not, for today is just another day in the life of a dedicated jobseeker. So once again it's another fifteen minute stroll to the programme centre and delve into the myriad advertisements on the internet.
     
    On the local high street I spotted an articulated lorry parked on the side of the road, with a van parked the wrong way round on a one way street, with goods being transferred from one to the other.
     
    I noticed the lorry had german license plates. Nothing unusual these days. We get more foreign lorries than our own what with fuel prices and competition. I regularly see a dutch lorry at the bottom of the hill offloading supplies of foliage to the local flower shop. Quite what happens to the foliage afterward is another matter, because I never see anyone buying any.
     
    Then I noticed the van was displaying italian license plates. Eh? Now I've always thought I was a little clued up about logistics, but a german lorry offloading to an italian van on a british high street? How is that profitable? Me no understandee...
     
    Record Breaking Burgers
    I see Burger King have totally ignored the latest health advice and created a product oozing with calories. Currently it's only available in Japan, but if British people decide that consuming curries is old hat, or poisonous, considering one takeaway down the hill from me has been fined for rat infestations, how long will it be before television adverts for burgers show government health warnings?
     
    I imagine that soon we'll be banned from eating them in pubs. Like somkers, there'll be small crowds huddling in the cold evenings under street lamps enjoying their distasteful habit. Or worse, will people be banned from eating burgers in public entirely because it's not nice to maltreated cows to be devoured in the sight of the law abiding majority?
     
    Death Rehearsal
    What a horrible headline. Apparently someone has said that the upcoming royal wedding will also be a dress rehearsal for the Queens funeral. She isn't dead yet, you know. Oh well. Practice makes perfect I suppose.
  4. caldrail

    News From The Auntie

    By caldrail,

    Oh hang a minute, my mobile phone is ringing. That doesn't happen very often these days. Hopefully it'll be an employer begging me to save their company from bankruptcy.... Nope... It's my aunt. You've never met her have you? No, I thought not. You'd know if you had because bless her cotton socks, she cannot stop talking.
     
    "I've not used my mobile very often" She explained, "And I found your phone number on it. So I thought I'd give you a ring."
     
    You see, this is how my family is. Anyway, it's too late, I've answered the call, so I'd better sit back, put the kettle on, and wait for oxygen starvation to make her pause for breath in fifteen minutes or so. It's like listening to a soap opera update. Somebody has dumped her boyfriend, someone's been trying t contact me, and the major news this time is an up and coming marriage for one of my relations down under. What? Another one? How many relations do I have down there? Good grief, they're breeding like rabbits...
     
    My aunt wants to go there and celebrate but in fairness her health is not what it was. She's been asked to report any pain and suffering following a short spell in hospital, so she's not keen to be on the other side of the world when it happens. Maybe it's just me but I was under the impression that healthcare is indeed available in the Antipodes. In any case, all she has to do is tell them she's the aunt of Lord Caldrail. They'll send her home by private jet, surely? I mean, it's the only way they'll avoid a seventy two hour lecture.
     
    Low Low Prices
    On my way to the programme centre (What? Again? Oh yes - The Job Centre like it when you do something about your jobless status) I passed a billboard outside a fast food outlet. A burger for only
  5. caldrail

    Too Sunny

    By caldrail,

    For the first time this year the museum left the front door open. That proves how nice the weather is getting. In fact, the museum likes to keep the door open because it persuades people to wander in. A closed door is very intimidating for the average member of the public.
     
    And they poured in. Four visitors this morning. Rushed off my feet I was. Taking money at the till, providing assitance to vistiors, answering enquiries from the public at the reception desk, preventing displays being nicked, and generally standing helplessly whilst visitors tell me their life story.
     
    Young L was a bit late in this morning. Another sign of a bright sunny day? Never mind, he bounded in through the door and proceeded to create his very own brand of audiovisual havoc which only he is skilled in providing. Ooooh look, it's the end of my shift. See ya!
     
    Sunny In The City Too
    So nice and warm is the weather that the pound has surged against the dollar. Not entirely sure what the significance is or whether it impacts on my own particular poverty, but hey, forewarned is forearmed.
     
    Too Sunny
    I've just spotted a news item that tells the public not to waste money in garages but instead do some basic maintenance yourselves. Good advice given the sort of rates garages charge these days. I would be only too happy to while away an hour or two preparing my car for the next mad dash here and there except there isn't any point. It seems too many people have been maintaining my car to suit themselves in the wee small hours.
     
    In fact, most softop cars are whizzing around town with the top down. Must be something to do with the weather. I've noticed a definite correlation between sunny days and wind in the hair.
     
    Most drive past taking no notice of me. However, one young lady stuck her finger up at me as she drove past. Charming. Haven't a clue who she is, so I presume she's jealous of my fashion sense, or is she upset that I'm not insanely jealous of her expensive silver BMW?
     
    There's been a lot of police cars parked around town just of late. Looks like they're enjoying the good weather too. Nice to see them getting out and about. Must be a dreary life filling in forms in an office.
     
    "Hiyah!" Came the call from across the road. It had to be Mr J. He's a colleague at the museum, a man for whom life is one long party from start to finish. Always here, always there, always yelling greetings across the street before rollerblading to work or meeting hordes of in-crowders for a lazy afternoon in the park for that all important business meeting.
     
    This is all getting out of control. Where's the damp grey days we know and love? I can't cope with this level of sunshine...
  6. caldrail
    Today is a different sort of day. Gone is the hazy sunshine, replaced by the all-enveloping grey clag of a typical Swindon day. Sounds like a lot of activity outside. I know they're ripping up the bit of the road they ripped up last year, but something sounded different somehow. With some curiosity then I glanced out from the curtains and... Huh?
     
    Almost the length of of the bottom half of the hill is lined with plastic barricades. Contractors lorries are parked all along the area set aside for demolition. Getting a kebab now is going to require a major expedition. Might pop down the outward bound shop and pick up a good deal on mountaineering equipment. You never know. Hunger might get the better of me.
     
    As You Might Expect
    As you might expect with a typical Swindon day, there's a not a lot to report. In fact, the only notable trend worthy of attention by the outside world is the sudden fashion for eating at the library. They're all at it. As soon as it gets quiet out come the snack bags, rustling tin foil and crunching jaws, the perpetrators oblivious to how annoying their habit is, and I suspect they wouldn't care if they knew.
     
    Interesting thing is though that mobile phones aren't competing for my attention. Not a ring tone to be heard. No very important business decisions, position reports, or in depth analysis of personal problems. I wish it was that blissful, but unfortunately...
     
    Rustle crackle rustle... Chomp chomp crunch chomp....
  7. caldrail

    When I Was Young

    By caldrail,

    Back when I was very young, I remember a particularly vivid dream. I was wandering along a beach, in bright sunshine. My companion was a girl though I don't know what the relationship was supposed to be. Anyway, there was a rushing noise and the sea went out, like a low tide but much more dramatic and far reaching. It seemed as if the sea had vanished in the blink of an eye.
     
    My companion, entranced and excited by this amazing sight, ran here and there, jumping in puddles of seawater among the stranded fish and piles of seawater. I was more circumspect. This was wrong. Very wrong. I didn't understand why but I knew no good would come of it. Although I made an attempt to pull my companion away from this apparent threat, she was too bound up by it.
     
    Then I saw the horizon lift up. The sea was coming back. I vaguely have a memory of clutching my ears at a sudden noise of terrific volume, but I'm not sure if that recollection was originally part of the dream. A great wave was approaching.
     
    That dream has stuck in my mind ever since. Some years ago, I dreamt the final part. Where the wave reaches us. It was simply stunning. A wall of seawater that towered over me. All I could do was stand there slack-jawed at the terrible sight of it. Then the foam at the base of the wave hit me like a brick and remember nothing more.
     
    What on earth was I seeing? A past life experience, a prophecy, clairvoyance, or simply no more than a figment of my imagination, no more than a dream like any other? I shall never know. What I do recall is the terrifying majesty of a massive tsunami.
     
    With the recent disaster that wreaked havoc in Japan, how could I write an entry about anything else? Like everyone else I saw the images of an unstoppable wall of water crashing into the shore and pushing inland, sweeping everything before it? The video footage is in a way surreal. I can sit at home, safe and sound, and realise how terrible it was. What I can't imagine is what the sensations of standing in the way of a real tsunami must be like. Or in a strange way, maybe I can, though arguably there's no comparison.
     
    I know I should be expressing regret and sympathy for the suffering of the japanese. Frankly I don't know what to say, other than to repeat the sentiments expressed by everyone else. Without wishing to be too allegorical or politically incorrect, Japan has never really been the safest place in the world to live. Occaisionally nature reminds us who's in charge.
     
    Too Young To Understand
    As part of the Science and Technology Week the museum has hosted some activities for kids, namely communication. We had morse code tappers, semaphore flags, teletypes, yoghurt pot telephones, all ready to give the children a fun hands-on experience, and of course to learn something at the same time.
     
    Maybe I was being naive. What we got was a chimps tea party. The kids seemed completely unable to retain any interest for more than ten seconds, always getting impatient and fed up if something wasn't perfect or worked instantly, and lacking in any sort of discipline whatsoever. This afternoon I am a broken man. Physically and emotionally.
     
    What is it with kids these days? I was shocked by how difficult it was to engage their atention. When I was a kid, you sat up straight and paid attention, or you risked well aimed chalk missiles, loud public humiliations, or in the worst cases, a lonely trip to the headmasters office for a more painful lesson on how to behave. Certainly not like the good old days anymore. No wonder modern kids wander off and paint random heiroglyphs on the nearest available wall.
  8. caldrail

    Dumber And Dummies

    By caldrail,

    I feel good about today. Not for any of the usual "Thank God it's Friday" reasons, but simply because it's such a fine day. Outside there's a blue sky without a cloud to be seen, the sunshine taking the edge of the chill I felt earlier this morning.
     
    Talking about sunshine, the usual predictions of disaster are coming out now, because the sun reaching another turbulent phase in its eleven year cycle, and worse still, there's a mighty alignment in the galaxy about to occur, an event seen every twenty five thousand years, and with all this poppycock about the Mayan end of the world in december next year, I feel sure that I might as well enjoy what great weather we have right now.
     
    Oh come on! You mean you think ancient civilisation knew the world would end next year? How? How could they possibly know that? Oh I get it. Ancient wisdom. Ahem.
     
    Well, let me scoff not. Apparently there's going to be a presentation in Swindon shortly about wierd stuff like faces on the surface of other planets, alien visitations, and the terrifying truth about ancient astronauts.
     
    No, I tell a lie, I am going to scoff. Ancient astronauts? In a period when lighting fires by rubbing two sticks together was the cutting edge of research into cooking food and staying warm, how did they build interstellar vehicles? Oh yes. I forgot. Aliens showed them how. Of course. How silly of me to forget that. I mean, if you're a paleolithic hunter/gatherer surviving by following herds of hairy beasts across freezing cold grasslands, building a spaceship would be a breeze if someone dropped a manual on How To Build UFO's in your lap.
     
    Come on, people, wise up. We live in a technological society and most of us can't understand the instructions on how to use our DVD recorders.
     
    Health Test Dummies
    I see a news report today that doctors are training on new sophisticated dummies. Now that our local sex shop has closed, I imagine there's a lot of them about. That said, I'm glad that dummies are now longer confined to the horrendous and hazardous working conditions of crashing cars. Now that our bookshelves are full of literature aimed at teaching them to become useful members of society, I sense liberation for our educated slaves. Equal rights for Dummies!
  9. caldrail

    Just A Few Things To Say

    By caldrail,

    Another day, another visit to the doctor. It was an early start on a damp and dismal day in rainy old Swindon, the traffic thrashing around in a sort of 'late for work' way. When the doctor called for me he asked "What can I do for you today?"
     
    It was tempting to reply that I didn't know. Hey, I was asked to book this appointment. Come on Doctor, get your act together. Not that it would have made any difference. Apparently I'm going to be turned into a cyborg for 24 hours shortly. No, really. They're going to fit me with some sort of monitor. I wonder what it does? Alert the Police if I go outdoors? Check for body odour and bad fashion? Whether I'm breaking the speed limit? Or have they finally cottoned on that I might be from another planet?
     
    Keeping It Real
    Repent Sinners, and delete thy Confession app from thine iPod! The Pope says it isn't a genuine substitute for a real confession. I agree completely, but then, real confessions aren't exactly credible, are they? Come on, Mr Pope, who are you trying to kid? Send them a text telling sinners to type out twelve Hail Mary's.
     
    Advert of the Week
    Goes to Lloyds TSB. You have to laugh. Apparently if you overdraw your account you get until closing time the same day to sort it out. Or what? Are they going to send the boys round? I'll know I'm in trouble when Michael Caine turns up at the door.
     
    Another Quote From The Caldrail Archives
    I'm a morning person. Afternoons are there for me to recover from doing things
  10. caldrail

    The Joy of Flight

    By caldrail,

    Looking out the window this morning I see a vista of clear blue sky. After yesterdays squalls and blustery winds it's a welcome change. Years ago, on a day like this, I would phone the flying club and ask if there was an available aeroplane. There is? Brilliant, I'll be there in an hour.
     
    There wasn't much to it. I arrive, park up, and pop by the control tower to check for weather information. Oh yes. You never take british weather for granted. It's suprised me more than once. Also there was the endless notices to airmen, photocopied lists of do's and don'ts which might apply to flights in my area. Thruxton was unusual in that they bothered to map out the directives on the wall, so that you didn't have read through page after page of dull government agency text. Only the relevant ones for my flight were of any interest.
     
    That done, it was down to the office to sign out my reserved aeroplane. Stroll across the race track (I only had to dash across to avoid a racing car once), and toward the gate to the infield.
     
    On one occaision a kit car was parked out there and I gave it a casual perusal as I past by. The owner was not a tolerant man. I heard a very loud and abrupt "HEY!" to warn me that proximity to his beloved creation was going to end in something very inconvenient. I was only looking. Good grief, if you drive an unusual car, surely you expect a certain amount of interest from passers-by? Still, I don't blame him for being protective.
     
    Now I cross the grass apron amongst the ranks of stationary aircraft. Most are club aeroplanes, small two seater american trainers, such as the Piper Tomahawk I'd booked. To be honest, whilst they flew well enough and were the cheapest available, they were quite dull machines. I much preferred the rare Beagle Pup when I got the chance. Now that was a suprisingly spirited aeroplane, a definite favourite of mine.
     
    On that day I hadn't the choice. Approaching the aeroplane on a warm day provides a sense of anticipation. There's a host of things you need to see to before you take off, so I set about stowing my bag, doing a walk-around to check the aircraft exterior for function and condition, then at last climb in and set about my pre-flight checks.
     
    The heat! If you've never sat in an idle light aircraft in the sun, my advice is don't unless you have to. Those large curves of plexiglass trap all the sunshine and boy oh boy is it warm in there! I always used to ask my passenger to hold a door open when I was taxiing, to get some propellor draft into the cockpit. But today I'm flying alone. So I have to put up with it.
     
    Well, everything seems to be working, and I have enough fuel for my intended hour of local flying, aimlessly enjoying the that sincere pleasure of being up there. Starting the engine is a bit of an art. Some engines fire up eagerly, others are sullenly stubborn, and all require a little coaxing with a number of levers and plungers designed in the 1920's.
     
    Usually there was no problem. With a loud shout to warn anyone lurking near the propellor out of sight, the engine fires up and the twin blades vanish into a circular blur. Aircraft are noisty little things. Just as well my headphones ward off the worst of it. Without them, you end up battered by the insistent roar.
     
    The normal routine is to radio the tower and inform them of my intentions. They pretty well know what I'm up to, and the clipped reply sounds very bored of the same old information. A little odd that. There's no-one else out here. I have the field to myself. A few years ago this field was buzzing and communication a frantic experience. Now we're all getting a bit lazy as the economy, regulations, and other reasons witherdown the activity I expect at Thruxton.
     
    With the brakes off the Tomahawk accelerates readily. Turn using the rudder, avoid fast taxying despite the impatience of an intruder to my little world, a larger Robin four seater, whose brash pilot clearly has better things to do than wait politely for me to trundle out, and I make my way to the far side of the field and the appropriate end of the runway.
     
    My rival asks for permission to turn off the taxiway and rush down the runway to take off first. To be honest, everyone, including me, are keen to let him. There's a sense in flying that rushing around is bad for you. It probably is, but he roars away and leaves me to bumble along the grass in peace.
     
    At the runway end, time for those last vital checks. Satisified everything is working the way aeronautical science demands, I radio the tower again and announce my departure. To be honest, although the tower is termed an 'advice service' only, he's in charge when it comes to traffic around the field. Not only politeness, it's good practice. But there's no problem, no-one around to obstruct my take-off, and he lets me go.
     
    Turning on the runway is always an odd experience. So much wider than you expect. Thruxton is an olsd WW2 airfield, where P47's and glider tugs operated from in support of D-Day, but the runway is in fact only a portion of what it used to be. The other end is now the concrete part of the apron by the tower.
     
    Line up on the centreline. A quick mental check that everything is in order. That runway disappears into the distance, but trust me, it's not as long as it looks. I confess, this is the moment I feel the thrill. Push the throttle lever forward, all the way, and that rumble you'd gotten used to this last ten minutes erupts into an angry bellow as you sense that propellor turning ever faster.
     
    Quickly the Tomahawk gains speed. They don't take off as readily as Cessna's, so a little back pressure on the yoke is called for, and in any case, it's good practice to keep the weight off that nosewheel. The aeroplane wants to veer. The rudder feels sensitive and keeping the aeroplane straight is occupying my attention. You can feel a relentless increase in speed. At the same time it feels impressively rapid yet agonisingly slow.
     
    A new sensation appears. The aeroplane is wallowing just a little, feeling lighter, and the pit of your stomach registers that first hesitant rise as the wheels begin to lose their grip on the runway. We're flying! With the speed increasing more rapidly, ease back the yoke, adopt the climb attitude, and away she goes.
     
    The ground is falling away.I would enjoy this a lot more if I didn't have to stay alert for the possibility of engine problems. The take-off is the most safety-critical part of the flight. Despite my wariness, there's no problem, and the little plane gains height above southern England lazily, not coping so easily with the thinner warm air outside. The draughty cockpit feels cooler, comfortable, and now I must deal with the protocol of flying near the ground within an airfield's territory, trimming and raising flaps, looking about for other aeroplanes, keeping to the circuit, and announcing my departure from the area.
     
    Strictly speaking, I should change radio frequencies and tell someone else what I'm up to. The miltary airfield down the road for instance, who control the airspace around Thruxton. Truth is I don't want to. Although the air is a little hazy, perhaps a little bumpy as I fly through thermals, it just feels great to be up here alone for a while at the controls of this obedient little machine.
     
    Oh yes. That was why I flew.
     
    More On How It Was
    There's a book at the library which I've leafed through this morning. Probably the reason why I'm waxing lyrical about flying. It's a collection of reminiscenses of World War One veterans, flyers with the RFC and RNAS. Now of course they were flying in wartime, in aeroplames made of very combustible material, without parachutes, in aeroplanes that were barely more capable than the first to fly ever.
     
    You know what? For all the danger, I notice that they all enjoyed it too.
  11. caldrail
    Life is full of coincidences. last night, whilst busy working on some computer stuff, I brought up the television on one side of the screen. To my horror, Channel One is no longer broadcasting. Oh no! Life without Star Trek? Repeats of the various series have been shown by Channel One and its previous owner, Virgin, for two decades almost continuously. The world will never be the same.
     
    So what else is there? I flicked through the various channels and eventually gave up, dropping the remote onto the desk, shaking my head, and leaving the screen showing Grand Designs, in whci a couple optimistically set about creating their own dream boat-house from scrap material. As a rule, the program doesn't interest me. Somehow the people who build their dream house find money out of thin air, are multi-tasking geniuses, and always arrive at the end with a happy smile.
     
    not these two. Slowly but surely my attention was drawn to their inept efforts at boat reconstruction, not to mention planning and permissions. They ended up with nowhere to moor their creation, no-one to finish it, and as far as I could tell, no home at all.
     
    Imagine my suprise as the very same boat-house cropped up in the internet news today, having slipped its moorings in a vandalised state. What a small world.
     
    Sleepless In Swindon
    After a long absence the urban foxes are back. Last night I woken by one distressed fox screeching its little furry nuts off. If you've never heard urban foxes, let me tell you the sound they make is unbelievable, straight out of a horror film, piercing the stillness of the night.
     
    On the other hand, if a fox is at large and making noise, that means there's no car thief trying to figure out why my car won't work. So there you have it. If you want your kept safe, keep urban foxes in the area. As soon as it goes quiet and you fall asleep, you know your car is either being stolen or vandalised. The perfect car alarm.
     
    More On Crime
    For those of you trying to catch up with lost sleep, the Home Office have recently unleashed a new website that details reports of crime around Britain. From that you can see whcih streets are risky. The data got into the local paper this morning as the headline warns us that "Swindon road is the dodgiest in the county".
     
    For a moment I took that to mean Swindon Road, just around the corner. That would explain a few things. Sadly that was wrong, and the guilty streets are elsewhere, though in one or two cases, not that far away. The police have told us that the information is not an accurate reflection of the reality concerning crime. Pardon? Politicians not giving out correct statistics? Whatever next?
     
    Why Do They Do It?
    Why oh why do women lean forward to talk to us blokes at every opportunity? My eyes are immediately drawn to the usually obscured display of their cleavage and that does very strange things to my anatomy, such as causing me to contort my face into a silly grin.
     
    I think she was telling me something very important. I have no idea what it was. My mind was... Well... Preoccupied. Just keep on talking, dear. That's right. I wonder what it was I just agreed to? Oh never mind, I'm sure it will work out okay.
  12. caldrail

    Enjoy The News

    By caldrail,

    I've decided that television is an insidious device created for the sole purpose of keeping people off the streets. As you probably guessed, I was kept off the streets last night. probably no bad thing mind you, as Swindon streets are certainly no better than anyone elses.
     
    This morning I watched a team of hi-vis clothing walking the pavements measuring distances with little wheely things. At first it occured to me that our local council might have realised the streets exist and that they need to take care of them at last, but then again, it might have something to do with our forthcoming retail development at the Old College site. Alternatively, it might simply be a precursor to some bold new means of extracting cash from drivers.
     
    Anyway, it's cold out there. Not exactly siberian weather, not even frosty, just that uncomfortable chill that cuts to the bone. My home is all that much warmer mind you, but at least I have the television to keep me company in those long evenings that really fly by.
     
    Some of you might be asking why I don't go out somewhere and have fun. I would love the opportunity to do so. Unfortunately such social pleasures invariably cost money, and since the government have decided that I'm allowed enough to eat, drink, and shiver, I'll have to make do with my digital friend for now.
     
    That said, it's ridiculous. With freeview I have loads and loads of channels, and the remarkable thing is I spend more time flicking through them trying to find something remotely interesting than actually taking any interest in the latest cheap product, british policemen telling us how they caught a few teenagers driving badly, or the endless accounts of every detail of nazi horror in world war two.
     
    So bad has it now that a bunch of comedians have gotten together to do a current affairs program. If that weren't ironic enough, last night they lambasted news reporting. Guys, I'm not joking, either start taking journalism a bit more seriously or tell some jokes. Funny ones. Please.
     
    Thousands Missing Out
    There's a headline in the news right now. Thousands of britons are apparently missing out on radiotherapy treatment that might cure their cancer. When I first saw that headline, I assumed it was a public outcry against our beloved NHS, never an organised renowned for efficiency. Wrong!
     
    It's the experts again. They're telling us that we all need this treatment which apparently is the medical equivalent of hiring an assassin to kill your enemies. So why are these anonymous learned people telling us that 52% of british people could benefit from this 'radical' treatment? Because they want to benefit from increased funding. Death rays don't come cheap you know.
     
    Government Announcement of the Week
    Lately there's been some news about our ailing economy, which has shrunk by a small degree. I'm not exactly clued up on the inner mysteries of finance but I assume that's not good news. However, let's not be saddened or worried by this development, as our Prime Minister has announced that Britains economic recovery plan is already yielding success.
     
    I guess having comedians present a current afffairs program makes senes, because we also seem to have comedians running the country.
  13. caldrail

    Having a Laugh

    By caldrail,

    What makes a comedian funny? Obviously, because he tells jokes, but by definition that means he has a sense of humour. If there's one thing I've noticed about comedians in general, they're not afraid to make fun of themselves, and since poking fun at others isn't always well received, that strain of self depreciation is something endears them to us. We recognise they're human too. At least, most of them are.
     
    I've never been a fan of Ricky Gervais. That's no secret, I said as much ages ago. I just can't understand why people find him funny. Perhaps it's because he specialises in ridiculing people, something increasingly popular as a genre of comedy, or perhaps he just isn't that funny. I'm not sure.
     
    After his performance at a recent award ceremony I've no reason to change my opinion. Asked by a reporter about it, he dismissed any concerns with "If people get upset, it's not my fault, is it?"
     
    Pardon me? So who else is to blame? Oh, I see, we're all supposed to laugh at his antics and jibes regardless. Not only is Ricky Gervais not entirely funny, he isn't entirely trying to be any more, and expects to be feted on whatever comes out of his gob.
     
    There will be those who will dismiss this disparagement for various reasons, such as claiming I'm a sad so and so, or envious, or a hypocrite, or anything else they can think of. However, if they do, aren't they doing the same as I just did? In any case, if what I'm writing upsets anyone, it's not my fault, is it?
     
    Quiet Please
    How many times have I mentioned the use of mobile phones in the library? Of late people have been pretty good, but this morning? Oh ye gods it turned into a call centre. The man on the right is organising a business deal. The lady behind me is organising her holiday. The lady on the left is organising her husband.
     
    Here I am trying to navigate the inner mysteries of an online job application and all I can hear is half a conversation from several directions. They're having a laugh...
     
    They just can't resist it. As soon as that ring tone goes off their automated response is to answer and tell everyone where they are. I know you're in the library, people, I can hear you jabbering on the phone. Where's Dragon Lady when you need her?
  14. caldrail

    Pointing At Stars

    By caldrail,

    Not a nice day. Maybe it isn't raining quite to the extent certain parts of Australia have suffered recently but the wind is blustery and the air damp with rainness. No, not a nice day. As if that suprises me. For a start this is Britain, and we are known internationally for our trademarked lousy climate. On the other hand, it's also a time of astronomical significance and therefore the skies are cloudy so we cannot observe the celestial wonders above.
     
    BBC have even started Stargazing Live in which an astronomer and a comedian provide the running commentary to real on-the-spot stargazing. A part of me wonders if Dara O'Brean is only their to make Brian Cox sound interesting, but perhaps I criticise too much. After all, they're getting paid for pointing at the night sky. I just get cold and wet.
     
    Since they're professional presenters the skies cleared for them, as the BBC seem to be able to book good weather in advance, but for me the arrival of a meteor storm went unnoticed as I looked out onto a typically dismal winter night. Somewhere above lumps of dirt are plummetting into the atmosphere at thousands upon thousands of miles an hour and making nice pyrotechnic displays as they burn up from the friction of it. And once again, British weather has obscured it. Never mind. Let's be optimistic. I still have a few years left before I die of old age. Maybe I'll get to see a shower or two before my tired old body gives up the wait?
     
    Better yet, this is a period of alignment, in which the planets form an orderly queue and cause global devastation by concatenated gravitic influence. Or not, as the case may be. I'm not worried. there's plenty of flu going around, so any space alien invasion is bound to fail. You'd think super intelligent creatures from other worlds would learn that Earth people cannot be defeated. We have the perfect defence. Get your coughs and sniffles now, while stocks last.
     
    Moan of the Week
    Today is 20% day. For those foreigners who've never encountered the Great British Taxation System, Value Added tax has risen to 20% to pay off the politicians ezpenses. It's a surcharge for all transactions on goods and services, so if I buy a bag of jelly beans, not only does it cost sixty pence, it also costs me another twelve that the government rake off. That I suppose is the advantage that Doctor Who has. His jelly beans are supplied by the BBC, whose budget I also have to pay an unholy sum for every year.
  15. caldrail

    Fizz And Bang

    By caldrail,

    In case anyone didn't notice, it's now 2011. That means I haven't written an entry in this blog since last year. Strange... Only seems like a few days since I last typed a message... Oh well, never mind.
     
    With the new year the weather has ceased to be quite as frigid as it was prior to christmas. I've even turned the heating off again. Maybe I'm just getting used to living in cold conditions that I can't bear being in a warm room any more, at least not without dozing off every five minutes.
     
    But hang on... I am dozing off. Where's all the seasonal festivities? The conga lines wandering down the street? The late night chorus of taunts and chest-thumping displays? The shrieks of party girls for whom anything entering their perception is a reason to recoil in amused horror? Where's the police siren rushing up the up toward Old Town? Darn it... Where's the party?
     
    What a damp squib of a new year. Okay, I know someone celebrated the arrival of 2011 because I heard a couple of fireworks going off. I suspect the insidious influence of television. I note that countries around the world seemed to vying for the title of the Worlds Most Extravagant Firework Display award. I wonder who won that? Good reviews of all entrants makes the decision a tough one, especially for someone like me who thinks watching people celebrate on television is sadder than stamp-collecting.
     
    All right, I admit it, I haven't helped the situation at all because I too didn't bother. Instead I stayed in and got bored with the thoroughly unispired television schedule. Don't know why I didn't emerge from my cocoon as I might of done once. Perhaps my current poverty dissuaded me? Or perhaps, like everyone else, I'm just getting bored with the same old expectations.
     
    Therefore my New Years Resolution is to do something unexpected this year. Stay tuned for developments as they occur.
     
    Bonfire
    Having said all that, I notice some of the prisoners at Ford Open Prison have rioted and set fire to the buildings in a frenzy of drink related arson. At least they wanted to party. On the other hand though it hasn't escaped my attention that the people who wanted to party were banged up in jail, the violence precipitated by a crack-down on booze found inside the wire.
     
    A New Year To Play With
    Glancing out the window I can see the clouds losing a battle to dominate the weather. Here and there the blue sky, a pale winter blue, is making itself felt. What a good omen.
  16. caldrail

    Surviving Christmas

    By caldrail,

    This year was something of an anomaly. This was the first ever white christmas in my living memory. A sure sign of global warming as I'm sure you'll agree. But the anomaly goes further. So much of british life is second-hand, with weather and cultural trends imported from our cousins across the Atlantic. This year I noticed we suffered a sharp wintery blast before they did, against the prevailing wind and political treaties to the contrary. Of course, America just had to go one better...
     
    That said, survival in my poorly heated flat was something of a trial. I'm not used to sleeping in sub-zero temperatures. I've just spent the last week zipped into a sleeping bag. Is that desperate, or what? With heating bills soaring, I suspect I won't be the last. But hey, I survived the cold, and better still, suffered less christmas music and carol singers than ever before. Even the drunkards only emerged last night as the weather warmed enough to allow them to venture forth in tru male bonding style. Ah yes, the football chant... Swindon is returning to normal...
     
    Survival of the Masses
    I'm a little confused. For thousands of years mankind has been predicting the end of the world. For such a pessimistic species it seems odd we invent alternative optimistic fantasies. On the one hand, religion contains many examples of a forthcoming global cataclysm (which each generation is told it will happen in their lifetime - Repent, sinners!), yet on the other hand there's a section of society that has an almost religious belief the future of mankind is assured. If you ask anyone about the end of the world, you inevitably find someone who shrugs and tels you all we need to do is build lots of spaceships and go somewhere else.
     
    If only it were that easy. Unfortunately the nearest star is four light years away. For those who don't know, light travels at 186,273 miles per second. Pretty quick in other words. A light year is the distance light would ravel in one year. So thats 186,273 x 60 seconds x 60 minutes x 24 hours x 365.25 days. Thats 5,878,328,824,800 miles away more or less. For those struggling with big numbers, that's about 452 million times further than the journey to Australia. So even by Easyjet, the journey to Proxima Centauri will still set you back a cool three hundred and sixteen billion pounds to spend a year trapped in a tin can with hundreds of holidaymakers hurtling through space without anything to drink or do at night.. Bargain.
     
    Alternative Survival Strategy of the Week
    For those of us concerned with an affordable means to survive the end of the world, there is now a way to survive the end of the Mayan Cycle in 2012, the return of Jesus the day after tomorrow, or another winter like this one. It turns out that a Russian chap has invented the perfect shelter, a pod for four people to cope with every shake, rattle, and roll the world could possibly throw at it.
     
    So convincing is this new shelter that his neighbours have been signing up to spend a few weeks locked up together inside. The Simpsons and Family Guy have already proven this concept, and already the Russian government are so impressed by it they want to buy a thousand of these shelters. So... That's four thousand survivors, more or less. How many people live in Russia?
     
    Lucky Survival of the Week
    Goes to the group of teenagers at Coate Water who decided that a frozen lake was the perfect place to mess about. They let their dog run around on the ice. One youth even rode his bicycle on the lake. Better tell these lads not to waste their money investing in a Russian survival pod for 2012. They'd only open the door to have a look see. If they live that long.
     
    Oh, I nearly Forgot...
    Some of you might have sat there slack jawed through the christmas Doctor Who extravaganza. I used to complain that the new Doctor was merely Harry Potter and the Sonic Screwdriver, but quite how I can adequately describe this rubbish is beyond my vocabulary. Okay, since it's christmas, I'll try. It turned into Harry Potter and a sort of Christmas Carol Rip Off. Only this time we got Hansom cabs being pulled through the skies of an alien world by sharks. Is that what passes for science-fiction these days? I want to buy one of those Russian survival pods for next years effort. The decline of western civilisation is being measured by the BBC.
     
    Christmas Message of the Year
    That's it, I can stand no more. Change the channel. Anything, I don't care what it is, just as long as I don't have to watch any more of this Doctor Who... The next channel is BBC2, who happen to be showing a televised christmas service. Lots of choirs and panning camera shots of a purple lit vaulted cathedral roof. That's okay, I've missed most of it, and in ten minutes the lads from Top Gear will be fuelling my own fantasies.
     
    As it happens, the sermon, or at least all thirty seconds of it (It is a television show after all), tells us that we should love each other. Hey, that's brilliant. Group sex, brought to you by Jesus Inc. That would have made my flat a bit warmer.
  17. caldrail
    My fame as a jobseeker knows no bounds. Yesterday some bloke spoke to me as I passed him on the pavement of the local high street. He was visiting the the numerous job agencies and must have recognised me from one of those helpful 'How To Search For Jobs' courses that I've been attending over the last year.
     
    "Waste of time, innit?" He said as he loomed over me with a psychopathic smile. He's a big lad. "None 'uv these agencies 'ave got nuffink."
     
    Well you just have to keep on trying. Thankfully my lame reply did not upset him and he allowed me to continue wasting my day on a fruitless search for gainful employment. But you see, celebrity dolesters like me have to put up with occaisional interest from members of public. For my next gig, I'm booked for a job centre interview with Her Upstairs. Tough audience.
     
    My Perfect Car?
    Like all wannabee celebs, I have this instinctive need to publicise my presence. Being ordinary is not good enough. So instead of a cheap fuel efficient hybrid city car, I would choose the new six wheeled supercar from Covini.
     
    More details here... http://uk.cars.yahoo.com/21122010/36/amazing-six-wheel-supercar-debuts-0.html
     
    Think about it. James Dean had his psychopathic Porsche, a B movie Hollywood actor had a self animated VW Beetle, Lady Penelope had her pink all-purpose Rolls Royce, James Bond had his 'Don't press that button' Aston Martin, and Dick Dastardly's plans for race domination were nothing without his latest sneaky design. In fact, I can't name one television detective who went without a distinctive car.
     
    Except Kojak, but he was too tough to drive. Or maybe TJ Hooker, but then I don't remember William Shatners character ever solving a crime. However, the succesful person is defined by his choice of car. I know this to be true, having been sacked by one company for not choosing a Vauxhall Vectra, or another company for not driving a red BMW (What? Thought I didn't notice?).
     
    So, does the desire to purchase and drive an insane six wheeled supercar make me a poser, an overgrown ten year old, a hopelessly ill equipped middle aged crisis, or just another looney who wants to wrap himself around a lampost in the most expensive manner possible? Probably all them, but I don't care, because the essential point is that despite opinions to the contrary, I'm not the slightest bit interested in buying a car to impress anyone else. It's me who wants to be impressed, thrilled, overjoyed, and ultimately freed from the mangled wreckage with as few injuries as possible.
     
    I have a very important meeting with Her Upstairs today. I wonder if... No, she wouldn't. She couldn't. Her budget isn't that big. But what the hey, nothing ventured nothing gained. I need this car to launch my new career. No, really, I do.
  18. caldrail

    Tell The World About It

    By caldrail,

    Much of the news is about Wikileaks at the moment. Quite why this site is viewed with such regard is beyond me. Anyone else who goes around telling everyone everybodies elses secrets usually gets cold shouldered. No, that's not right, I do know why. It's because their readership are anonymous idiots who take great delight in finding out stuff they shouldn't know.
     
    As to whether any of these former secrets are actually true I can't say. Chances are a great deal of it is fiction to begin with, sent by malicious or mischievious individuals who take great delight on telling everyone everybodies secrets, and of course they get away with it because they alert the world anonymously. Personally I find the idea of this site a little sad. Even sadder is the hero worship attracted by the sites founder, and whilst he may be innocent of the sexual misdemeanours he's accused of, he doesn't across as the saintly image he wants to project.
     
    I suppose in a way you could argue I'm doing the same thing on this blog, alerting the world to the amazing secrets of my private little world. You are amazed, aren't you? Please tell me you're amazed. I cannot sleep at nights worrying that my readership are not thrilled, amused, and stunned by the revelations of ordinary life on the dole. After all, it might save me from a criminal prosecution one day.
     
    CaldLeaks Latest
    For years the official line is that global warming is heating the world to catastrophic levels. We have been forced to spend more to use less, and every year thousands of schoolchildren are brainwashed with politically correct ideas about climatology in the hope that they will one day support government policies. But here at CaldLeaks we have uncovered solid evidence that the world is as cold as it's always been. Behold. The camera never lies!
     

     
    Oh yes. The gentleman on computer 64 is watching a football video for free. Shocking.
     
    It's All Their Fault
    I remember back when I was a college student and the time came to set about some project for our engineering exam. As sometimes happens, I was paired off with the the worst student of all, a guy from Iran who clearly had no intention of taking part in the Islamic fundamentalist revolution that was going on at the time, and instead, managed to convince everyone that he was a bona fide foreign student. As it happens, it was like working with a middle east carpet salesman. Sorry, but it was.
     
    Thing is though we were chatting one day and he mentioned that the CIA was responsible for some tragedy. Yeah right. Come on, mate, it was an accident. "No, No," He earnestly proclaimed to me, "It is always CIA. They do everything. Always the CIA."
     
    For a man escaping a religious revolution he certainly managed to display a certain zealous belief that an american spy agency was causing my friends car accident the month before. Apparently the police believed he failed to negotiate a bend. But we know what really happened, don't we? My protestations that the CIA couldn't be responsible for every evil went disregarded in my Iranian colleagues need to communicate his dark message.
     
    And it goes on. During my forklifting course the other week one guy made an assertion that the Falkland War was all about Southern Chile. Pardon? Yes, he told me, because he'd been there and someone had told him. Oh come on!
     
    Anyway, we had a bit of a fierce debate about Britains military and political obectives. He accused me of reading too many newspapers. I think he listens to too many barflies. But at that point the guy with a ginger beard and woolly cap piped up and asked if believed whether such things were just accidents. It's the CIA. Black ops. It's real, man.
     
    Would the CIA please stop vandalising my car?
     
    I Woke Up This Morning
    It came as no suprise really that snow had fallen. After all, the blonde woman on television has been warning me to expect it for days now. The whiteness of the light coming through the curtains made it clear that all was snowed under outside. In fact, last night had been the coldest I'd experienced for some time. It even woke me up during the night. Not pleasant at all.
     
    As the picture reveals our snowfall is nothing to boast about. Not even half an inch out there. It certainly hasn't stopped parents bringing their kids to the library for a good old sing song. Other than that the library is strangely quiet today. Better not say too much. It might get leaked on the internet.
  19. caldrail

    My Day, By Caldrail

    By caldrail,

    With all this wintery chaos going on you people out there must be suffering terribly. I feel it is my duty, and honour, to bring a little amusement to your otherwise frozen lives. So without further ado, at great risk to life and limb, I bring you todays blog entry...
     
    Todays Blog Entry
    The snow was falling most of saturday afternoon. Not heavily, but persistent. Worse still it was wet snow, creating a slippery surface on top of asphalt or compacted snow from the previous night. As I looked out the front window I watched people walking by on the street below, some sliding and slipping as they went.
     
    Not suprisingly the road was as dodgy. Cars were driving up the hill very gingerly, and one lady struggled to keep her BMW moving forward at all as it slowly swivelled on its axis with wheels spinning. Not so the drivers going down the hill. Some were travelling at an inadvisable pace. I hope they were able to stop at the bottom.
     
    Yesterday was quiet. A dramatic orange and dark grey sky gave a surreal gloominess to the evening as I listened out for the midnight chorus of drunken football fans, left only with a stillness that was quite unseasonal.
     
    This morning though is monday, and that means returning to my usual weekly routine. Except... I can't. There's no water coming from my taps. The toilet cistern isn't refilling. Oh brilliant. Time to break out the SAS survival manual. Find the page on what to do when you haven't got all mod cons in your home. Sadly I was unable to radio for a helicopter supply drop, so instead I began collecting bucket loads of snow from the yard, much to the amusement of the garage mechanic opposite.
     
    I'm discovering just how easy it is to get stuck into a routine. There's things I need to get on with today but I need to stick around for the repair man to finish fixing someones boiler two miles away. Every so often the urge to use the toilet makes me begin to rush forward, and each time I remember there isn't any point, because the toilet doesn't work. Increadible. This is the twenty-first century and I'm living like a medieval peasant.
     
    Come on Caldrail. Where's your british get up and go? The churchillian 'We Can Take It' stiff upper lip? I so want to go to the toilet.... But the repair could turn up any time in the next day or so and I desperately need to attend a job search session at the programme centre... Hurry up, man, where are you?
     
    Talking About Snow
    Just in the last hour or so it's begun snowing again, thankfully not heavily, but unlike the previous snowfalls this stuff is composed of tiny pellets, like lightweight hailstones that don't sting and just drift through the air lazily. I don't suppose for a moment it matters, but it was something to fill a paragraph.
     
    The pavements are very sippery right now after all this snow is trodden down hard and tiurned into a sort of brown skating rink. One chap crossing a road nearly went over spectacularly. Whilst I'm sympathetic to his plight, I have to say it pleases me greatly. Not for any malicious reason at all. It's just that I now know it isn't only me who falls over.
     
    In fact, when I was at the supermarket earlier buying drinking water, the lady on the till was discussing the icy pavements with just about anyone who cared to listen. "They haven't gritted the pedestrian underpass" She moaned authoritively. No, I know what you mean. I live on a hill. "They haven't gritted that either, have they?" She replied.
     
    Despite all this grief and woe, I must say thank you to the lady in the Toyota Celica who let me cross the road with my supply of vital water for the war effort.. I do hope you managed to get the car moving again.
     
    A Knock On The Door!
    Brilliant. I've just about given up waiting and I'm half a mile down the road when the phone rings and I learn the repair man is on his way. How do maintenance people know when to call at the most frustrating and inconvenient moment? Have they got control of all these CCTV cameras posted around town? Would you believe it? My plumber is actually an undercover security guard.
     
    To be honest, his crime fighting skills were not what interested me. Instead he asked what my problem was. Taps and toilet cistern not working. "Okay..." He thought carefully about how to deal with tricky situation. "Have you got a hair dryer by any chance?"
     
    A what? A hair dryer? Is this man taking the mickey? Nope. He wasn't. And after resorting to an industrial flamethrower managed to get my water flowing again. Well done that man.
     
    Happy Ending of the Week
    At last I can access my toilet and enjoy the use of my fully functioning latrine. Unnnh! Oh yeah. Oh that feels good. Yeah, let it all out man, oh yeah... Oh yeah...
  20. caldrail

    Calm Before The Storm

    By caldrail,

    It happens today. it's inescapable. And it will cause suffering and hardship.
     
    That's the message I've been seeing and hearing in our media. It's a womnder there's no-one wandering back and forth the local high street with a placard saying "The end is nigh". I am of course referring to the imminent assault upon british shores of another arctic blast.
     
    It's now late morning and if I were honest, there's little sign of our impending doom. The sky is sombre with dark grey clouds under a lighter grey blanket, and if I were honest, yes it does feel wintery. So far though the temperature is not entirely uncomfortable. Chilly, certainly, but I didn't need gloves today. Maybe I might tomorrow? After all, the weather people have been warning us. The arctic apocalypse is coming, people, and we warned you sinners not to get used to balmy indian summers!
     
    Cutting To The Chase
    I see in the news that two policemen were stabbed in a London street yesterday. That is shocking news. Okay, maybe the police aren't very high on my christmas card list at the moment, but I don't want to see anyone hurt in this manner, and the fact that some idiot lashed out at our law enforcement in that way is depressing, even though such things aren't entirely unknown. It's just that it thankfully happens so infrequently and we tend to forget the episodes of previous decades that the media once related at every step in the media.
     
    Compared to an event I saw yesterday it makes the news of this attack is in a real sense very shocking. leaving the Job Centre I saw two police cars parked by the side of the busy dual carriageway, the constables crowding around a young man who was persuaded in no uncertain terms to get in to the car. I suppose in most cases that's how it is. Faced with stern and numerous opposition, the irresponsible youth realises he can't do anything but obey and suffer the consequences of his actions. As it should be.
     
    At the end of the day, our shock at the latest outburst of violence reveals, quite literally, how safe our streets usually are. And that's a cause for congratulation for those that enforce it.
     
    Trouble is, having said that, there's bound to be a politican seeking to take credit for this state of affairs, or enforcers seeking more authority to extend their 'rule of law', and all the other ambitions and vagaries of human nature. All I want is the perpetrator of my rusting car's demise sent behind bars. Oh well. Something to add to the list I'm sending Santa Claus.
     
    Weather Update
    Yes, it's confirmed. In the last ten minutes a darker, more threatening cloud has drifted into view. It's our own fault of course. They've been telling everyone to use less petrol for decades. Well now I don't use any at all. Can I be excused this wintery blast, please?
  21. caldrail

    A Quest Completed

    By caldrail,

    Early this morning, before first light, I trudged along the route to the test centre. It's located in small industrial estate (the map pointed at an alleyway a hundred yards further on) and as I turned the corner I spotted one of my trainee colleagues leaning against the wall, as the premises weren't open just yet.
     
    As I got closer, I noticed he wasn't moving. Curious... Hello mate? How are you this morning?... No answer. He just leaned there immobile, well and truly asleep. Poor lad. I let him gather a few winks in peace. Like me he would soon be subjected to long waits and short bursts of frenetic forklifting.
     
    The Results Of Frenetic Forklifting
    Yeh verily I have journeyed far to complete my quest. For twenty years I have struggled in the wilderness, but at last, the mythical and legendary forklift license is mine. Apart some dumb mistakes as the test began, I conducted the entire test routine in a respectable nineteen minutes out of the thirty or so allowed, and scored eleven demerits, an above-average result for a novice forklifter. I'm quite chuffed. All that bearing in mind I haven't driven a forklift truck before and indeed, haven't driven any vehicle at all for nearly three years.
     
    Ah well. Back to the daily grind. Let's see what jobs are on offer this week...
     
    At Last!
    Not only have this day seen me rise to the ranks of forklifthood, but the new heaters turned up. Warm air! Oodles of lovely soothing hotness!
  22. caldrail
    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.
     
    Luckily I'm not that canine, thus I can thrust aside my primeval instinct and ingrained ritual for a lay-in. Ahhh yes. This is is cosy.... For some reason I'm not feeling as comfortable anymore. Darn. Those Russian scientists will be smirking any minute now....
     
    The Great Indoors
    It's no good. I'm going to have to get up. ind you, Britain is suffering an early cold snap and this morning is supposed to be as cold as Britain usually gets in winter. In order to test the water, so speak, I thrust my toes out from under the duvet. Cold! Very cold!
     
    In these situations I've always found that diving in headfirst is the best way. To do otherwise just prolongs the agony of low temperatures. Three... Two... One... Go!
     
    Gah! Extremely cold! Quick, where's my tee shirt?... I put it here the other day! Where is it? Cold.... I'm starting to shiver.... Oh to heck with it. I throw any old clothes on in a desperate attempt to stave off the freezing enviroment. With seconds to spare before I started to suffer colds, flu's, and frostbite, I managed to envelope myself in heaps of clothes, even if I now look like a penniless tramp.
     
    Erm...
     
    Also Very Cold
    Walking down the hill toward the library I see the road has been cordoned off and a lone workman busy with a pneumatic drill, a brave soul pushing his heavy equipment into the ground and clearly suffering from the cold as much as I was. Strange to see the hill devoid of traffic.
     
    Also From A Cold Place
    Excuse me? North Korea a potential ally? Is Sarah Palin serious? Maybe things look different across the Atlantic but here in Blighty we're sometimes bemused by American politics, or more usually completely baffled. I'm not anti-american at all but is there some sort of disease that afflicts politicians over there?
  23. caldrail
    The amber triangles are proudly displayed on the weather report again. This time it's not heavy rain and the attendant risk of flooding, but the arrival of this years first snowfall, which shouldn't affect Wiltshire as yet.
     
    Nonetheless the temperatures are plummetting. This morning was no exception. I've resorted to gloves for the first this year. Even my claims advisor mentioned how cold it was. Hey, that was almost conversational.
     
    Yesterday had one advantage. It was a bright sunny day, abeit a chilly one. Since it wasn't going to be a busy day - something I decided rather than tread the same old weary routine - I went for a stroll through the environs of the local area. Just for the exercise. Like you do.
     
    As it turned out I made one major mistake. I was walking in a sort of anti-clockwise direction, which meant the low afternoon sun was always in my eyes. It might be approaching winter, but that sun can be very bright.
     
    What struck me was the changes in Rodbourne. I used to live in that area when I was younger. The row of shops along the main road gave the place a sort of village atmosphere. When the developers built the bypass to link with the Outlet Centre in the old rail works buildings, traders complained it would harm passing trade. Especially since the plan was to block the road through Rodbourne at one end. They eventually listened and left the road open, but after a decade it seems the effect is starting to make itself felt anyway. Shops are mysteriously mutating into private homes.
     
    In a sense it's a good thing because the former shabbiness is being swept away. On the other hand, maybe two or three shops are still trading as they were when I was young. The rest are either offering different services or gone completely. Somehow it all seems as if the area is losing a community atmosphere and becoming a dormitory for the rest of Swindon.
     
    The Protest Continues
    More student protests? Whilst there is something to protest about, I suspect there's an element of youthful defiance turning this affair into a sort of game. Police baiting has risks that go with the sport, as some youngsters are finding out. But is this behaviour really going to help? If you want lower tuition fees, then eventually a peaceful settlement is going to be necessary. What governbment is going to surrender it's credibility by surrendering to large gatherings of deliquent students (or those purporting to be students)?
     
    Down She Goes
    British forces have apparently sunk a Somali pirate vessel. About time too. The lesson from history is that unless you deal with piracy ruthlessly it will persist. Whilst we want to be gentlemanly and civilised in our approach to maintaining order on the high seas, is that really going to suppress this sort of activity? As the Somali learn their craft, become more professional and adept at avoiding naval interdiction, the situation see-saws back to where you started. Unless you sink them. That's the cold hard logic of this particular game.
  24. caldrail

    There Are Always Changes

    By caldrail,

    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 got the ticket for parking there.
     
    That was all very well, but what happened shortly after was that council officials sought out every possible non-taxable parking spot and daubed double yellow lines on it, which made it a breach of the law to park there.
     
    Now I see that some local councillors are pressing to create new parking spaces in town. At the moment they're fussing over details of the scheme. Expiry dates, days, times, places, all are being minutely examined for the least possible obstruction to the daily lives of the residents concerned, which I find a bit odd because obstruction to parking is the whole point of the scheme.
     
    Now I Know
    I now have proof that wishful thinking can work. The old Mecca bingo hall, previously a cinema, had been abandoned for some time. Passing the premises on a daily basis I often thought it was a waste of a good theatre. If only someone would turn it into a music venue. A proper dedicated music venue, something that Swindon lacks, despite regular big names appearing at the Wyvern Theatre or the Oasis Sports Hall.
     
    To my suprise, someone has done exactly that. Now called Meca, it's going to open as a 2000 seat venue for music. We are most pleased, entrepenours, continue with your decorating.
     
    One of the other changes in Swindon that's been mooted over the years is a pedestrian crossing on Kingshill. Most of you won't know it, but it's the western exit from Old Town and quite a steep road, especially at the top.
     
    Back when I was a schoolkid and took the bus home to Rodbourne, it was a popular form of entertainment for those kids riding bicycles to race the bus down the hill. Time after time one of the 'bad lads' would earn cheers from the top deck as he nervously swept past the bus peddling frantically in the face of commonsense.
     
    One day, we had Animal driving the bus. Now he was cut from a different cloth to most bus drivers. I think he was a frustrated racing driver. At any rate, spotting the youth on a bike preparing for mad dash past the vehicle as it ponderously and noisily wound it's way down the hill, his competitive spirit kicked in. He was not going to beaten. So Animal gunned the throttle and the double decker bus careered down the hill with an astonished bike rider in it's wake.
     
    Hardly a safe thing to do, was it? Well, that was back in the seventies, when such malarkey was common if not officially approved. So now, in our current post-nanny state, we have residents pressing for a crossing along the road, making it safe for children and old people to avoid being mown down by the contestants in the 2010 Double Decker Bus Grand Prix (which of course doesn't happen any more, following the introduction of speed cameras and a nrew hard line attitude from policeman about motoring offences).
     
    I know it's all safer and better for everyone, but in a funny way, I miss the freedom we once had.
  25. caldrail

    Bangs And Rattles

    By caldrail,

    My neighbour was not happy. He left for work this morning by slamming the door, which results in the house moving slightly. Seriously, it does, you can actually feel the movement caused by air pressure.
     
    Not only that, but passing lorries on the road outside make the house shake. Worse still, the vibration causes my bedroom door to rattle, and that, I suspect, is what kept my neighbour awake and got him all riled up. Even my usual strategem of wedging a plastic bag under door made no difference. The brassy rattle kept on sounding.
     
    As it happens, I do have some sympathy. It kept me awake too.
     
    Rushing About
    Another rainy day. This morning I got up a little late and realised to my horror that I'd forgotten to fill in my jobsearch booklet last night. Why is it that when you're in a hurry, the human bladder refuses to empty? Come on! Come on!....
     
    So I rushed down to the Job Centre braving the nasty weather. Thankfully the rain wasn't that heavy, but it certainly wasn't fun. Then again, attendance at the Job Centre never is. Some claims advisors really don't like happy claimants. It's a sign that life is too easy and they start all sorts of machinations to wipe that smile off your face.
     
    On the plus side, I was rescued this morning. A good natured claims Advisor, Mr T, has taken me onto his caseload again. I have to say he's polite, helpful, and doesn't display the wicked satisfaction many advisors show when their customer is squirming under scrutiny.
     
    talking of which, I'm die to be placed under scrutiny shortly. An interview with Customer Compliance no less. Do I really need to describe what's going to happen? According to Mr T, a few claimants have had their money stopped already. Nothing to worry about, he tells me.
     
    Big Bangs
    I hear on the news that the Hadron Collider in Switzerland has succcesfully recreated little 'big bangs'. Actually it didn't. It simply reproduced for a brief instant conditions that existed moments after the Big Bang had happened. Not that I'm worried of course, but creating a new Big Bang isn't likely to teach us much, because the last one caused an explosion whose debris is now spread across countless light years of space.
     
    Funny thing really. I spent my childhood living under the threat of soviet nuclear missiles, now I live under the threat that some scientist might light a bigger firework than he intended.
     
    I wonder? Is all this quantum research going to do anything useful? Like cure the rattle on my bedroom door?
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