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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  1. caldrail

    Watch Your Language

    By caldrail,

    There's a tree in Savernake Forest that I know of. An unremarkable tree at first glance until you discover how old it is. That old fella was sprouting out of ground, fresh from the seed, roughly the same time William the Conqueror was striding ashore at Hastings.
     
    That day in 1066 changed everything. From that point forwards, England and France would be uncomfortable neighbours, no doubt made worse by the Germanic roots of the Anglo-Saxons. Of course now we're on good terms, despite my successful attempts to enrage my French teacher as a child. Nobody else liked her either.
     
    It's an instinctive thing, this antipathy between the British and French. Even some of our insults derive from our little upsets. The English two-fingered salute originated from medieval archers who taunted the French by showing they still had their bow fingers - the French had taken to cutting them off every time they caught one of them.
     
    We don't fight wars with the French any more, and to be honest, I'm a bit old to annoy French teachers now. Instead, we have a rivalry over language. A couple of decades ago the French created legislation to stop their countrymen using anglicised words in everyday conversation. They felt it was poisoning their traditional language. Imagine then my suprise when I see on the news that the French government are encouraging the education of English in their country. How times have changed. I watched as their schoolchildren underwent physical education classes entirely in English. They have free lessons and language camps out of term time, just to learn how to speak our tongue.
     
    The pervasiveness of the English language is something we take for granted. Usually when an Englishman encounters foreigners who don't understand him he simply shouts louder. Despite this traditional English ignorance of foreign languages, I did learn some French at school, inbetween annoying teachers. On an industrial visit to France back in my college days I had many opportunities to display this mastery of conversational French. I don't know if the bus driver actually understood me or not, but he took my money anyway and I arrived back at the hostel safe and well. As for the toilet cleaner we asked directions of, I can assure him we did find the Harbourmaster later that day. As for that idiot I tried to buy chocolate from - I wanted two bars of the stuff, not to haggle over the price. So I got to shout louder at a foreigner after all.
     
    Phone Call of the Week
    Talking about communication, I got a wierd phone call the other day. I found it on my answering service, three minutes of wheezing and a distant voice asking "Are you done yet?".
     
    My phone tells me there was no phone number, so I'm inclined to believe I have been contacted by aliens from the Planet Zarg who want to abduct me for sex. Thanks for the call guys, but lets stick to taking you to our leader, yes? Oh.... They've hung up......
  2. caldrail

    Are We There Yet?

    By caldrail,

    Apparently farmers in Sub-Saharan Africa will benefit from detailed digital maps of soil nutrient quality. At last they'll know why their farms are not doing well. Isn't technology useful? Perhaps not, considering the Skycar, a para-sailing dune buggy, currently setting out on a three thousand mile journey across Africa. These skycars are ridiculous. They proved it was a daft idea back in the fifties. Can you imagine the telephone calls from frustrated motorists?
     
    "You have reached Traffic Control Helpline. If you wish to reserve a parking slot, press 1. If you're hopelessly lost over southern England, press 2. If you want to declare mayday, press 3. If you want to speak to a Controller, press 4..."
     
    Press 4.... Aha, the tone is ringing.
     
    "Yes Sir."
     
    Ah Right. This is Mr Caldrail of 22 Acacia Avenue requesting clearance for local flight to Jones Industries routing via the Primary School, over.
     
    "Roger that Mr Caldrail. Taxi to main road and hold short, weather is 23 degrees and light rain expected, please be aware traffic is heavy and currently you are number thirteen at the roundabout."
     
    Thank you Control. Roger and out.... Now kids, stop messing around back there and buckle up your parachutes.... Johnny! Stop hitting your brother with your oxygen mask.... No, we're not there yet....
     
    Its Your Fault... No Its You...
    The squabble between Russia and the Ukraine concerning gas supply goes on. Someone didn't pay, someone didn't supply, someone cut the supply again, someone sent gas through the wrong pipes... Meanwhile, people in Europe are freezing. Having suffered some low temperatures this January, I have every sympathy for those without heating at this time of year.
     
    The problem with the Russians is that they have a reputation for pulling wool over peoples eyes thats well deserved. It seems the Ukraine has learned that lesson, but you can't help feeling this is a squabble over cash. Not so much whether people get paid, more about who gets paid. For the moment it still goes on with accusations flying back and forth.
     
    Are we there yet?
     
    Wagging Fingers
    A statistical study has suggested a link between the link of a man's finger and his success in the financial center of London. Good grief, did someone get paid to research that? Seems to me that Pinnochio has already proven that financial success is more dependent on the length of your nose.
     
    Slogan of the Week
    I shall take George Bush's advice and not misunderestimate Hilary Clinton. She gets Slogan of the Week for telling America that their foreign policy should employ Smart Power. What a fantastic piece of politics that is. When you look at what she's suggesting, it means they're going to do exactly the same as before but now they have a plan.
  3. caldrail

    No Pain, No Gain

    By caldrail,

    Mondays are the curse of modern civilisation. In times of yore, men of Englands Green and Pleasant Land woke from their slumber and stirred when they felt like it. Then along comes the hated miller and with the Industrial Revolution behind him, invented working hours and the tyranny of the clock began.
     
    Now you might say that as an unemployed person I don't suffer from Monday-itis, but you'd be wrong. Required by the state to earn my paltry handouts by looking for work, I must also observe the movement of people that is Monday morning. Or at least I would had I not injured my back. Nothing dramatic I'm afraid, just simple strain and a careless reach. Getting around was a trial because the injury was sending spasms of pain down my spine. Very uncomfortable, and had it not been necessary for me to go about my business, I would have stayed at home, no doubt further persuaded by the fact that the British weather is changing and warming up, bringing with it incessant rain again.
     
    Pain and rain. I'll have to chalk up another victory to Monday morning.
     
    Legislation of the Week
    It seems that the government of Papua New Guinea (they have one?) is to create new legislation to outlaw sorcery based murders. This is a nation that has an official in every village whose title is 'Rambo'. I kid you not. They may not have left the primitive world behind, but they sure have embraced Hollywood.
  4. caldrail
    It all seems doom and gloom right now doesn't it? Gaza is being demolished, Russia is sulking over gas supply, high street stores are closing, businesses laying off workers, predictions of three million unemployed by next year. Even my blog is draped in despair these days. Well, I won't have it. So, in order to lighten the mood, for the first time in blog history I will now... *click* ... Huh?.... Who turned out the lights? Oh no, my PC is dying. All I've got left is a small blue dot on my monitor fading away to nothingness... yes, it's another electricity cut. The second in a week.
     
    Now somewhere in this house is a torch. Ok, I know I left my dinnerplate on the floor, so I don't want to step on that.... Something just fell on the carpet... Ah, my headphones. Negotiate the living room obstacles... Ouch. That was the coffee table.... At last, I've found the door. Now along the hallway, find the bedroom door and... *bump*... Found it. Somewhere in this stygian mess I call my bedroom is a torch... Aha! Got it!. Now downstairs and try the trip switches to avail. Back uopstairs and find my mobile phone... There it is... Now find a telephone number for the electricity company... I feel like James Bond, searching through paperwork in a filing cabinet by torchlight.... Number... Where's the number?.... Got it.
     
    "This number will be charged at your normal rate" Says a female computer. No kidding. And I thought phones were free. Come to think of it, why are automated reply services always female?
     
    "Please wait to speak to an operator." She said. I waited, and within ten seconds a human operator answered "Hello?"
     
    Hi. I've got a power outage.
     
    "I see sir. What registration is your car?"
     
    Pardon? Car registration? What do you need my car registration for?
     
    "You've called Fixit Rescue Service Sir."
     
    Groan. Wrong number. Sorry.... Try again Caldrail....
     
    Heart Warming Interlude
    An eight year old boy with an artifical leg has just been given custom made gloves to enable him to play football as a goalkeeper. Custom made by an international supplier of sportswear no less. It's a heartwarming story but unless the lad is given some thermal undies, I suspect he'll freeze to death waiting for his mates to kick the ball his way.
     
    Back to Rushey Platt
    Tell you what, lets try this number before my torch goes dead.... Hooray.... Mr Electricity was very polite and concerned that I wasn't going to freeze in the next hour whilst the repairman sped to my rescue. Is he kidding? I've been freezing to death for a week now.
     
    Diplomacy of the Week
    President Sarkozy, the secret identity of superhero Captain France, is telling us that a deal to end Israel's gaza offensive is not far away as he persuades Syria to pressure Hamas to stop goading Israel. Obviously he's got more rockets than Hamas.
  5. caldrail
    I woke this morning earlier than I wanted - another job interview today. As usual, the bedroom is mildly cold but probably warmer than the front room! Anyhow, I threw back the duvet, shudderred in the loss of warm air, and tip toed to the curtains for a look outside. Snow!
     
    It snowed last night. Not a huge blizzard by any means, more of a thin coat of that fine wet snow that quickly clogs and becomes frighteningly icy. We don't usually get any snow in January. These days, we tend to get a light dusting around early March or April. Does this mean we're in for more? Luckily, the smiling presenter on the weather report last night (and I didn't hear him mention any risk of the white stuff) says no, at least not for the next week, as we move from cold sunny weather to the usual British claggy fog.
     
    Outside of course the traffic was moving slowly as you'd expect, sensible given the roads are ice rinks in places. Right then, down to the library to log on before I attend the interview... steady.... Sorry to disappoint you, but I didn't fall over. That will come tomorrow when the ground freezes again.
     
    Investigation of the Week
    It seems there's been an accident or crime on the side street opposite where I live, the street blocked off by orange and white bollards. My guess? Someone reached the left turn at the end of the slope and carried straight on. Couldn't see anything, but your roving reporter for the Rushey Platt Almost Daily will be reporting as events unfold.
  6. caldrail

    Cold Start

    By caldrail,

    Way back when I was working in warehousing I often used to see people spending time in the toilets, usually sat in their cubicles smoking or reading newspapers behind closed doors, at least when they weren't pulling the toilet apart with their bare hands for something to do. It's something of a british tradition and one I used to sneer at.
     
    Problem is, things are a little chilly in England right now. We've had sub-zero temperatures for a week now and last night it tried to snow. Some people may chuckle, but the England grinds to a halt whenever it snows, we really have no idea how to cope with the stuff.
     
    It sems my neighbours decided to go elsewhere for their new year too, which means they switched off their heating. If that wasn't bad enough the radiator in my living room has decided not to work anymore.... So... Cold...
     
    The irony is that my bathroom, ordinarily the coldest and draughtiest place in the house, now happens to be the warmest. It's been a while but I've rediscovered the joys of the 'workplace university'.
     
    It Gets Worse Still
    New Years day began for me at something like eleven o'clock in the morning. Bleary eyed I stirred under my multiple duvets and grimaced at the thought of the chill atmosphere. Still, I must endure, so I relunctantly fell out of bed and reached for the light. It didn't work.
     
    The electricity was off. And of course, since my gas boiler is electrically fired, so was the heating..... Even.... Colder....
     
    Naturally I phoned the electricity company and explained my plight. The lady on the other end of the phone was very polite and in the course of diagnosing my problem asked me if the neighbours had similar problems.
     
    I don't know, I've just gotten out of bed.
     
    "Oh?" She chuckled, "I wish I could stay in bed".
     
    Funny enough, I was thinking the same.
     
  7. caldrail

    Secrecy

    By caldrail,

    Hi there. As its the start of the new year, its the time for new year resolutions. Sadly the UN doesn't recognise my little nation state but that won't stop me. Luckily though no-one keeps resolutions for more than a few days which explains why third world dictators get away with flouting them. Most of us are required to pay lip service to these resolutions by our inlaws. Dictators have the unfair advantage that they can shoot theirs at will.
     
    So without further ado, my first lip-service to new year resolutions is to announce that its a secret. Since I live in Britain and have declared myself an independent state, I've no doubt that British Intelligence already know what my new years resolution is, which means everybody elses intelligence service know as well. So I might as well tell you all.
     
    I hereby resolve to not get bothered by that idiot who rings my doorbell at four in the morning. Who is he? Thats a secret, funnily enough.
     
    Defence Secret of the Week
    According to secret information recently made public, it seems that Britain in the 1970's was barely able to defend itself against the Soviet threat. Our fighter aircraft had enough ammunition and missiles for a few days conflict. Given we all had four minutes to live once war was declared, I sort of wonder whether investing in more ammo was worth it. Perhaps a free distribution of condoms to the public would have been better value? Safe sex you see.
  9. caldrail

    Survivng Christmas

    By caldrail,

    Survival is so macho. Tell someone you've survived the wilderness and instantly your manliness score doubles. Women become breathless near you. Men become your greatest buddy and hang on your every word. At least I believe they do because the only wilderness I've survived is Swindon, and unfortunately I'm reliably informed that Swindon doesn't do much for your manliness.
     
    The good news is that I survived Christmas. Survival is one of those dark arts you see featured on tv sometimes, with Ray Mears being clever and Bear Gryls being heroic. I notice neither use any of those SAS survival manuals you see in bookstores. I therefore conclude the art of survival is doing something without an instruction manual to find out how. A bit like your first date for instance.
     
    The reason we have to treat Christmas as an exercise of survival is public expectation. We're all expected to be happy. We're all expected to hand out presents. We're all expected to party on down. I suspect most of us have, economic woes or personal inclination notwithstanding. This year I survived by doing as little of these things as possible. I've decided that survival is dull. Lets face it, how much do I not want to invite someone to a Christmas party whose topic of conversation revolves around eating creepy-crawlies? Maybe they'd be better at barbeques? At least they could set the thing alight.
     
    No Sex Please, We're Swindoners
    The guy who lives across the street from me has done it again. Literally. I used to think it was a woman who lived there but apparently it's the bloke and he now has a new girlfriend. Gee, must be tough finding women who like having sex in view of the whole street....
     
    Christmas Prezzie of the Week
    No, it wasn't the camera. So would the owner of a dark blue Vauxhall Astra who drove past me whilst I was out taking photographs on Christmas morning please note - you were wrong. I was very happy.
     
    (sigh) Ok, you want to see a photograph... Well, here's my xmas pic of the year...
     
    Christmas Day Pic 2008
     

     
    No Vauxhall Astra owners were harmed in the making of this pic
  10. caldrail

    Know Your Enemy

    By caldrail,

    Back in my childhood, I used to watch Dick Dastardly's elite German squadron attempting to Catch That Pidgeon. Like an aerial roadrunner, it always got away. Muttley, Dastardly's less than faithful dog, always got his medal. Herr Dastardly always got his comeuppance.
     
    Ever since their brave service as message carriers in the Great War, Pidgeons have developed a nasty streak. They instinctively know when you're in your best clothes or you've just washed your car, and know exactly how to deflate your pride. Why are pidgeons so vindictive? Is it because Captain Blackadder shot Speckled Jim, General Melchetts beloved carrier pidgeon, and ate him? Is it because we now use mobile phones to contact one another thus have rendered Pidgeonkind redundant? Is it because I used to laugh when pidgeons thought their reflection in the window were rival birds? Is it because I never fed them?
     
    For whatever reason it now appears that I'm a legitimate target for pidgeon insurgents intent on world domination. Here's my proof....
     
    Pic of the Day

     
    The pidgeon paratroops descended on me at Coate Water and advanced remorselessly on my position. Its a terrifying experience, alone, unarmed, facing pidgeons with orders to peck to kill. I searched for breadcrumbs in a desperate bid to distract them while I made my getaway but to no avail. Then I realised that evolution is happening right here in Swindon. Pidgeons, facing a perpetual struggle for the stale crusts thrown by old women, have cottoned on that we humans are tastier and even now practice their hunting skills in the rainforests of Darkest Wiltshire. We all laughed at Alfred Hitchcocks predictions, but now we see how right he was. You have been warned. Keep watching the skies!
     
    Obituary of the Week
    Kathy Staff has died. For foreigners thats probably a bit meaningless, but she played the infamous old battleaxe Nora Batty in the everlasting tv series Last of the Summer Wine. She had become an icon for wannabe dragons everywhere. What can Mankind do to protect itself against the pidgeon threat now that our foremost warrior has passed on?
  11. caldrail

    Banging On About Metal

    By caldrail,

    Warning! Heavy metal music is bad for you!
     

     
    I've heard this all before. I can't remember how many times I've been warned about volume. There was a time when.. (Warning - Imminent Reminiscence).... I was at a practice in a garage rock band when a council official turned up to measure the sound after complaints about us. He asked us to play (that was our first gig man!) and with alarm told us we were too loud. A bit predictable, but then he said our volime was the same as Concorde taking off. I pointed out we'd been practising for six months already and therefore shouldn't be able to hear his advice to quieten down. Actually, we weren't that loud, but in later years Red Jasper were unable to book gigs in Bristol because we were too loud and awful.
     
    So it isn't volume thats dangerous. According to the news item I got the pic from, its headbanging that makes you prone to neck and brain injury. Well I've never been much into that particular dance mode, so obviously I'm not prone to injury (apart from bruised and blistered fingers from a hard gig behind the drum kit - those were the days) and if I were honest, I really don't remember many people headbanging at our gigs either, so obviously metal music is not to blame for hospital traction.
     
    Whats left? Oh yes.... the insidious spread of satanism and reversed messages on LP's. I mean, did anyone actually take that seriously? Its like a boys club where you make strange gestures to be part of the crowd, rather than any belief that Ozzy is the Prince of Darkness (now contested on World of Warcraft adverts) and that wearing black leather makes you a devel worshipper. Its a rebellion thing. We only do it to upset our christian elders and no-one really believes it.
     
    So in what way is Heavy Metal music dangerous? It isn't. I would argue that nightclubs and their moronic metronomes harbouring a culture of drug taking is visibly worse for your health. After all, metal fans go a gig to enjoy their music. Nightclubbers need pills to enjoy theirs.
     
    CD of the Week
    I picked up a live recording of Ronnie James Dio on his Holy Diver tour. Good stuff. I remember what an impact the original album made in the eighties. Fresh, energetic, and a thoroughly good listen. I'm going to have to stop, it's not good for me you know....
  12. caldrail

    Fee Fi Fo Fum....

    By caldrail,

    Last night I watched a news report from Gaza, where masked Hamas paramilitaries are busy training and preparing for the end of the ceasefire there. The Hamas spokesman proudly informed the news team on camera that Israel "Will be suprised". You know, I can't help feeling they've let the cat out of the bag there... In any case, the US can now track their activities by satellite.
     
    The US Space Agency is to launch an orbital machine that can map carbon dioxide around the world. I can just imagine the conspiracy theories this is going to spark. Now the greatest exhalers of greenhouse gases will be pointed out which is good news, as this means politicians will be hung by their own petards. Surely Osama Bin Laden must be in fear of discovery now.
     
    Scent of the Week
    After years of criticism about the content of food, Burger King have now finally found a way to compensate us for the loss of real cows in our burgers. They've done this with a new fragrance for men... Meat.... I kid you not. So now if you want to attract the cannibal of your dreams you can. Personally, I think postmen should not use this scent.
  13. caldrail

    Why So Popular?

    By caldrail,

    What is going on? Usually I get pretty well ignored by passing motorists, heckled by one or two, but today? All day long I've had people beeping their horns and giving me a cheery wave. Haven't a clue who they are. Haven't a clue why they're waving.
     
    Well if you want my autograph I'm not running after you....
     
    Todays Country Hike
    Not too far, just down the track that runs round the south side of the local golf course. You never see anyone use it, but typically for Britain, it was a mass of wintery puddles and muddy ruts, that dark grey sludge you get from leaf mould. I think I spent as much time on todays hike walking sideways and slipping back as I did going forward. Just in time for....
     
    Dog owner of the Week
    Goes to the woman I met on the Polo Ground, whose dogs seemed to derive great pleasure from charging at me. When I joked about their aggressive play she told me that dogs left to their own devices go wild in twelve hours. What? Who exactly is going to train these dogs to survive in the wild? All their life they've gotten sustenance from small metal tins pulled from a kitchen cupboard and even then they need a human being to open them. Ok, dogs are good scavengers (some even scavenge from the kitchen) but they can only susbsist that way when there's a surplus to be scavenging from, and nature being what it is the local wildlfie will soon cotton on that there's food lying around. Most emancipated canines would starve very quickly I think. But what do you expect from old wives?
     
  14. caldrail

    Officially Famous

    By caldrail,

    The street where I live isn't quiet. It's a major route from Old Town on the hill to Swindon town centre. Consequently I hear cars going by. Ordinary cars, cars with loud exhausts, and occaisionally cars bumping into each other. Sometimes a heavy lorry thunders by and the house literally shakes. Motorbikes scream up the hill and make it sound like Silverstone on race day. At night it changes. Women scream up the hill and youths chant football songs. I have to be honest, I've kind of gotten used to this background noise. Occaisionally though, I hear something original, and that happened last night.
     
    "Your blog is rubbish!" Yelled some woman outside. Now that warmed the cockles of my heart. After all those years of gigging the length and breadth of England and pushing through glass ceilings in the workplace, I finally get recognition for blogging over a hot keyboard. It just goes to show you don't need Simon Cowell to become famous. Well, now I'm qualified to appear on game shows and supermarket opening ceremonies, hurry up with the offers, this is only going to last five minutes...
     
    Sex Secret of the Week
    Since I have a boring blog (100% result in a recent poll of one person), I think it needs a little more pace and controversy. So lets start with the most outrageous expose of all, that Cliff Richard has declared himself 'a sexual enigma'. Oh get real Cliff. Look the words up in a dictionary first.
  15. caldrail

    Fresh Ingredients

    By caldrail,

    Most of cooking is very quicky and easy. Fifteen minutes and I'm done. Sometimes though when I've got a spare bit of cash I like to prove Jamie Oliver knows absolutely nothing about cooking by reinventing the entire genre in the prvacy of my own home. So it was yesterday, when I happened upon some quality products at tjhe supermarket on sale at bargain prices.
     
    I once remember reading a bit of wisdom that said "Love and cooking such be approached with complete abandon". I've always though sports cars should be added to that list, but for the moment, lets see what I've got in the cupboards to complete my mega-fest of culinary inspiration...... I can see this is goiung to be a challenge.
     
    So having decided on a curious Italian Curry (or is that Indian Chillie?) I resist the temptation to plan it out like a military operation. Pasta in the pot, tins opened, contents washed, and into the pan. Cooker on... You know, I can't believe Gordon Ramsay earns a fortune from doing this....
     
    Then, in a brainwave, I decide that some mint sauce would a great variation on a theme. Where's the bottle.... Can't beleieve I bought this rubbish.... Ahh, there it is. I 've not opened it before, and as so often happens in this situation, the bottle top is stuck fast. Ok, try again, tight grip and twwwwwwiiiiiiiiist....
     
    Emulation of the Week
    The bottle tops resistance finally gave way, and it came off so suddenly it lifted clear. Unfortunately, I had the bottle sideways at the time, and....
     
    Oh F....
     
    My attempt to emulate Gordon Ramsay has ended in success.
  16. caldrail

    Same Old Songs

    By caldrail,

    The temperature has dropped alarmingly. It's actually cold getting out of bed, if that wasn't difficult enough on a Saturday morning. I glance out the window and see nothing but dreary english fog.
     
    It turns out to be so cold even the internet is frozen. I've been searching all morning for a place to log on, with internet cafe staff frantically trying to stop their customers wandering away. I think thee's a telephone company employee who's going to need stress counselling.
     
    Then again, the cold weather is down to the time of year. Its already the Commercial Season, with ads everywhere telling us that if we buy their goods, we too will have a happy smiley Christmas. How? How can you enjoy Christmas with all the Christmas songs played endlessly on the radio?
     
    In America, I imagine you're suffering "Walking in a Winter Wonderland". Here in Blighty, its "Merry Christmas" by Slade. It was cute in 1978, but we've heard it, ok?
     
    Thens there's good old Bing, brought out of the golden oldie cupboard and dusted off to remind us that placing a bet snow will fall on Christmas Day is not a good idea. Paul McCartney tells us that "We're.. all.. having... a wonderful Christmas time". I'll bet you are. You can afford the prices. Cliff Richard of course gets all his his songs direct from God, which must leave Somin Cowell a little perplexed.
     
    What we need are gritty, rough tough no-nonsense Christmas songs. I want to hear Ozzy Osbourne singing "Suicide Sausage Rolls" or "Mr Crosby". How about Judas Priest performing "Living After New Year" or "Breaking The Wind"?
     
    Oh yeah. Songs from the heart.
     
    Survey of the Week
    Customer surveys are such a waste of time. Did we really need to them to do all that research to discover that the French use the largest condoms on average? Mind you, I was relieved to discover that Greece use the smallest. Must be why they import so many british holidaymakers every year.
  17. caldrail

    Seeking Treasure

    By caldrail,

    This morning I happened to drop by the library, expecting some light entertainment. It was sheer murder. Teams of children were engaged in a treasure hunt, following clues read out by their adult overseers, running here and there, chanting loudly in that tuneless way that kids do. In particular, one clue revolved around the number of cubicles where I'm sitting, so there's a continual stream of children counting.
     
    "Whats special about cubicle thirty five, children?" Asked the teacher.
     
    You mean apart from me? I turned around indignantly and the children looked nervously with open mouths as what appears to them a shabby monster of a man rouses from his slumber. The temptation to yell BOO! was almost too much, but the expression on their adult companions face was one of don't you dare.
     
    I won't keep you in suspense any more. The speciality of cubilcle thirty five (apart from the US Keyboard setting which is making typing a little more interesting than usual) is that it has a spotlight over it. Now you can all go forward to the next clue. Better hurry. Two hundred children are ahead of you.
     
    Weather Warning of the Week
    Last nights forecast was an absolute corker.
     
    "We are expecting a cold snap by the end of the week..." He said with baleful tones.
     
    No kidding. I don't suppose the forecaster has realised that its almost winter? Which treasure chest of climatology did you find this guy? Ok, bring back the dolly birds. They might be clueless too but at least you've got something more than a pastel-coloured cartoon in the background to look at.
  18. caldrail
    Many years ago, I met up for a game session with a bunch of guys, some of whom I knew well, others I didn't. One chap who was a friend of someone else and not known to me at all, interrupted the proceedings and said "Your mascara is running".
     
    I was pretty mystified by that comment, but his leering expression made itself felt. I wasn't happy with that slur, and just to make the point, my friends seemed as mystified by his attitude as I was. The week after, as I was leaving, I noticed a book open beside him and enquired bluntly as to its purpose.
     
    "Ahh... Poetry. I'm a poet..." He looked a little flustered as I grinned with relish at this symbol of unmanliness. "Its not all serious... I do some funny stuff... I... errr...."
     
    Revenge is soooo sweet. He never came back. Serves him right. However, I wonder if there's a poet in each of us struggling to get out. Perhaps not in Swindon, since most of the local performers prefer yelling insults in the small hours, and poetic it isn't. A mate of mine in the music business, a local singer/songwriter (We'll call him TB), once told me how his poetic spirit once took hold.
     
    He was walking through a well-to-do area, looking musically shabby of course, and heard the sound of the wind swishing through the tall trees along the side of the road. He was captivated by it, and stood there engrossed in its subtlety. A passing police car thought otherwise, and since policemen are not known for poetic leanings, TB was promptly called upon to explain why he was staring at the bedroom of an expensive house.
     
    "No, officer, I'm not, I'm... err.... listening to the trees.... ummm.... The sound... Its.. you know..."
     
    "Don't do it again Sir" The policemen rebuked him, "Now move along."
     
    Some people just don't appreciate poetry. Actually I don't either. Still, people who claim to be artistes tend to survive better on the dole, and since I'm too old to claim rock superstardom at grass roots level (I don't live in a country mansion after all), I'm left with no recourse to claim that as a local poet, I'm a vital cultural resource. Unfortunately, that means I now have to prove I'm a poet. So here goes....
     
    Poem of the Week
    I wandered lonely as a local poet of cultural significance
    That floats o'er hill and theatre
    A woman smiles and offers me a chance
    Of activities peculiar
    Yobboes jeer and call me 'nance'
    And ask why I won't bonk her
    In serene contempt I retain my stance
    And remind them of their failure
     
    Ok. I 'll move along Officer...
  19. caldrail

    Not What She Seems

    By caldrail,

    There's always been a certain amount of sexual cross-over in human societies. Most cultures have stories of woman who take on mens roles. We read of a female samurai, capable and deadly. We read of women hiding amongst the ranks of redcoats pretending to be boys. The native americans, of the plains tribes at least, tended to accept that not all men wanted to be warriors, and if a man wanted to stay in the camp and do womens work that was his choice. And so on.
     
    Today we see all sorts of manifestations of this behaviour. I watched a program about a jail in Costa Rica where two men dressed as women to entertain fellow prisoners and amuse themselves. There's all sorts of categories of cross-dressers such as american 'Shims', or a caste of men in India who dress and behave as women completely.
     
    Man Has Second Child said the headline.
     
    It depends how you look at it. A woman has chosen to have a sex change and despite being married to a woman, has decided to forgo 'his' hormone treatment and have children. One wonders how 'he' became pregnant at all, and what 'his' wife thinks of this. It seems to me that the person involved really doesn't want to be a man as much as he claims, and that despite the sex change and hormone treatment, female instincts rose to the surface. In fact, far from being a satisfied and stable person it rather sounds like this individual is a hugely mixed up hermaphrodite.
     
    I have to be honest - we don't get much of this sort of thing in rainy old Swindon. I doubt Swindoners have the imagination nor the will to consider it. Perhaps thats why I tolerate the place. I must be honest, whilst I accept people aren't always cardboard cut-outs and stereotypes, I'm comfortable with men being men and women being women.
     
    Smile of the Week
    Goes to the young lady of a bookstore in town. Sometimes people come across as genuinely pleasant and she did. Now only if I could find out what sex she was....
  20. caldrail

    Getting Serious

    By caldrail,

    Greek and Armenian monks in Jerusalem have always argued over petty issues. Such is the religious significance of the site. A monk need only stand in the wrong place to incite a confrontation. the only difference this time is that it came to blows. The sight of monks and priests lashing out at one another in a holy riot isn't something we've seen since the Spanish Inquisition. Nobody expected that.
     
    Christianity, in all its forms, likes the moral high ground. It presents a set of absolute rules and values to live by. The problem there of course is that human values are relative. Yesterday, human values got relatively violent. They forgot the Eleventh Commandment - "Thou Shalt Not Make Media Gaffs".
     
    Roll on the Male Voice Hail Mary Choir.
     
    Getting serious about cars
    For anyone who believes my taste in cars infers I've been spoon fed Top Gear for too long, I can assure you Jeremy Clarkson failed utterly to impress me last night with the latest Fiat 500 Abarth SS. I don't care if its got a 160 BHP turbo engine in a car the size of a shoe. I don't care if he reckons "Its a pretty serious racer".
     
    Shame it looks like a Fiat 500 then.
  21. caldrail

    Closed To The Public

    By caldrail,

    Something unusual made the headlines in the local paper recently. It seems our new library has given state-of-the-art facilities. 'Green' toilets - as if that means anything to me. Now I don't usually spend much time in public toilets (although I understand that is one way to get your name in the news - thanks for the tip George) and I haven't seen these new facilities. However, just like the previous locations, the locals have been creative in using them and so the after a few weeks the toilets have been closed 'Due to misuse'.
     
    Given what I used to see in warehouses, I can just imagine. I am so tempted to recall the tale of AW and his 'flappy paddle appendage', but I suspect I've said enough. Let your imagination run riot. You're not wrong.
     
    Driver of the Week
    Goes to the gentleman who quietly and gently turned the wrong way down a one way high street in Swindon and seemed completely unpeturbed, albeit somewhat mystified, by the rows of traffic coming straight at him gesticulating angrily. I have a suspicion he's not from around here...
  22. caldrail

    Broken Glass

    By caldrail,

    This morning I was walking up a street around the corner from where I live. Strewn with yellow and brown leaves, damp after last nights rainfall. It was also covered with broken glass in one place beside a car.
     
    Yes, the mystery car thief has struck again. Its hard to understand what he gains from this. Its entirely opportunistic, his targets are at random, and judging by the stuff left lying around the car I passed today, he simply isn't interested in what he finds. So is after anything specific? Apparently not. I actually start to wonder if he's doing it just to be anti-social, though it has to be said he did search my car fairly thoroughly.
     
    After all the vandalism thats been going on, the garage across the yard have left their external lights on all weekend, leaving me to sleep through a dull orange glow from my bedroom window. It must be said, the volume of people hurling taunts and insults in the small hours has decrased noticeably - along with an increased police presence I'd suspect.
     
    If only that were all. The alleyway beside the block of houses where I live has become a favourite dumping ground for someone. Mattresses and binbags regularly appear, and of course, so do broken bottles.
     
    To quote Blondie, they 'like the sound of breaking glass'.
     
    Breakage of the Week
    We all do it. In a moment of detached clumsiness we all drop things. Only this time, I didn't just drop it. The plate slid out of my hands like it was propelled by strange forces, scattering piled crockery and utensils waiting to be dried on my kitchen top before sliding to the floor and disassembling itself into random molecules. Then the dislodged stuff followed, and despite my heroic efforts to catch things, most ended up following the plate like inanimate lemmings.
     
    I definitely heard the sound of breaking glass. Don't like it.
  23. caldrail

    Musing on Motorcycles

    By caldrail,

    Funny things motorbikes. When you're young they seem so iconic. When you old they seem so symbolic. When they blast up the street they seem so noisy.
     
    When I was very young I used to see Evel Knievel featured on the news, preparing once again to crash his bike spectacularly in front of thousands. He wasn't the first to do motorcycle stunts by any means, the 'Wall of Death' sometimes featured in circuses and so on, but Mr Knievel had a talent for publicity. It seems though he had little talent for riding. Nonetheless, he had no regard for the dangers involved, and you can't help but admire him for that.
     
    You can't help but admire the media circus that followed him. I too had a motorcycle stunt toy. A sort of wind up thingy that shot off a launcher across the jury-rigged leap of death-defying scale between stacks of books and plywood boards. That poor toy always ended as a mangled heap of plastic againt the opposite wall. The funny thing was the painted expression on his face. A permanent grin like "This is hell... Help me..."
     
    These days though the level of talent involved in motorcycle stunts has improved a great deal. I see tv programs where youngsters make astonishing leaps and arrive with astronautic precision on the earth ramp the other end. A few days ago I watched a 'freestyle motocross' event in which they not only leap, but perform backflips and aerial gymnastics en route. Astonishing.
     
    For me though motorcycles were never a step toward manhood. I went straight for cars. I've done some pretty daft things in them in my younger days (good grief why are human beings so completely irresponsible when they're eighteen?) but to be honest I can't claim to have leapt thirteen double decker buses in one.
     
    I also know that many older people buy motorcycles to recapture that spirit of youth. Harley Davidsons seem to be the most popular for that, though why this is so is beyond me, since almost everyone else spits in fury at at the very name of that manufacturer. Personally I have no intention of trying to recapture my youth. Why would I need a second childhood? Most people think I haven't left my first one yet.
     
    Reminisence of the Week
    I was working as a delivery driver, and one of my stops was a boatyard north of Henley. I found the place, delievered thepackage, got the signature, and set off for my next destination. I stopped before pulling out onto the main road. Look left, look right. Some distance away to my right was a lone motorbike. No conflicting traffic then, so I turned left onto the road and proceeded toward a nearby bridge over the River Thames.
     
    This bridge was at an angle to the road, almost hidden by riverside trees. It was also an old victorian humpbacked stone bridge with no way to see anything coming the other side of it. Then in my mirror I spotted the rider. Just before the bridge he was attempting to overtake. I widened my eyes in alarm. He can't be serious?
     
    He was. He went for it. The little two stroke opened up and buzzed like a manic wasp. Then I noticed a car coming over the bridge. Being in a van, I was much higher than the rider passing on my right, and I doubt he saw it. I braked to let the rider past and winced as the car turned the bend in the face of the bike.
     
    The rider swept past me and swerved back into lane with inches to spare. He wobbled a little before accelerating away across the bridge and that was it. He was gone.
     
    He was very nearly a goner. Why are eighteen year olds so irresponsible on motorbikes? Actually, I can imagine his adrenaline rush afterward, and a big grin on his face from having faced danger and surviving. Somehow though.... I doubt he was competition for Evel Knievel, talent or not.
  24. caldrail
    During my last years at school I was a little less than well behaved. Nothing malicious, just totally unable to act in a mature or acceptable manner. It was of course a teenage rebellion. The teachers were not impressed and I remember stern lectures and demands to know what I intended to do when I left school and went out into the big wide world.
     
    I chose to join the Royal Air Force. So I popped down the recruiting office and the man in uniform there said "Sorry, Son, no vacancies". Huh? Well that sounded a little odd. So I travelled to a nearby town and applied there. They told me I couldn't hear properly.
     
    Now that I'm a lot older, I've come to notice certain trends in people who once served in the armed forces. One of those trends for instance is the delight ex-squaddies take in telling people who ask about their service that it was in a special unit. Usually they weren't, but your average civilian doesn't know that. Ex-RAF men always seem disgruntled. My local locksmith mutters darkly about his lack of promotion. He spent long hours poking a machine gun out of the back of a helicopter and considered that a waste of his talent. At least he had some.
     
    A gentleman I used to work with once served in the RAF too. He is prone to fits of anger, and with a complete inability in handicraft (he originally applied as an RAF mechanic), his idea of assembling flat pack furniture is to demolish it with a hammer because screw A does not fit in hole B. As he was so incapable of doing anything else than punching sergeants on the jaw, once released from punishment they had him working on nuclear weapons. Seriously. Unless he's pulling my leg too, but then he's a disgruntled ex-RAF type.
     
    So.... Why is it ex-Royal Navy personnel never ever discuss it at all? Or even tell anyone they were sailors?
     
    Plea of the Week
    A cat has adopted my parents. Would the owner please reclaim this animal before it enslaves them totally. Thank you.
  25. caldrail

    Live at the New Library

    By caldrail,

    Good afternoon readers, this is Caldrail, live at the grand opening of Swindons new library. I'm going to take you now inside this wonderful edifice and...
     
    "Are you with the children?"
     
    Huh? What? Do I look five years old? I've got grey hair for crying out loud.
     
    "Sorry Sir, library opens at two..."
     
    Two o'clock. Humph. Right. Well its back to the studio for news of Caldrails latest phone call with the police.
     
    Phone Call of the Week
    A message left by a policeman who said they'd got a result from the report of damage to my car. Woohoo. So I phoned them back this morning and the result is.... Well they haven't actually found anything, the crime is listed as unsolved, but they've managed to convince another policeman to look for a villain, believed young and irritating.
     
    New Library of the Week
    Hello again. yes its caldrail live at Swindons New Library. The place is heaving with people, most of whom look bemused, and if I can... just... squeeze through the crowd of camera toting journalists... Yeah same to you mate.... a computer, one of many located in and around the building. We understand this is a state of the art system, so lets log in and try my e-mail's....
     
    Aha. My emails are blocked courtesy of Swindon Borough Council. Internet security so tight you can't communicate. Well its back to the studio whilst we get this little glitch sorted....
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