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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  1. 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?
  2. 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...
  3. 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.
  4. 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.
  5. 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?
  6. 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.
  7. 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.
  8. 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
  9. 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....
  10. 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!
  11. 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.
  12. caldrail

    Zippidee Doodah

    By caldrail,

    My oh my what a wonderful day. Plenty of sunshine heading my way.
     
    That's what I like to tell myself. In reality it's now four years since I had a full time job. Somebody else seems to have noticed that as well because I got a terse text message from the programme centre the other day telling me to turn up to a mandatory activity session. The next morning a letter arrived telling me to turn up or else.
     
    "Does everyone know why you're here?" Asked the lady presenting the session. No-one answered. It turns out the government has decided that we're all going to be assigned jobs where-ever they can be found. No interviews required. The staff at the programme centre seemed a little baffled by the lack of response from us jobseekers. It wasn't that we all wanted to sit on our backsides at public expense - those that did soon revealed themselves with a desperate excuse as the truth dawned on them - but rather that here was a job given to us on a plate. Almost all of us were long term claimants. For years we've been bombarded with pep talks, warnings, advice, and training to turn us into succesful jobseekers. so where was the achievement? I wonder if the programme centre staff have realised that?
     
    Out of the Box
    Every so often someone pops into the museum with bags and boxes of stuff that's been lying around the house in some forgotten corner for long enough. Usually it's nothing but rubbish so when this very scenario occured today I groaned inwardly.
     
    Customer service... Smile for the customer... Listen politely to the tale of how this stuff has to find a new home or get thrown out.... As it happens this time the customer rhad brought in a box full of old vacuum tubes, some dating back to the Second World War. I looked through the collection, discovering that the black ones marked 'RCA' were american, those marked 'VR' were british military surplus, and... hallo.... What's this? German?
     
    It was. An old tube in good condition from a Luftwaffe radio set. I asked him about it and he confirmed he'd been billetted at former german airfields after the war. Young L couldn't understand why I was making a fuss. "What's the big deal?" He asked me. History, lad, history. We're so used to regarding these contributions as nothing more than other peoples unwanted rubbish that we forget some of this stuff really is a piece of the past you can reach out and touch.
     
    My oh my... What a wonderful day...
  13. 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
  14. caldrail
    A bright and early start for Caldrail this morning. My quest to discover the causes of my health issues now leads me on a major expedition into the countryside where Swindons hospital now resides. Of all the daft places to build one it's miles out on the fringe of wilderness. At least there's a footpath all the way there. Someone thought of that.
     
    The Great Western Hospital has attracted a poor reputation of late. As far as I could tell, the staff were efficient, courteous, and very helpful, pretty much what we expect the NHS to be. Luckily though I wasn't parking my car there. Now there's a bone of contention, with too few spaces charged enthusiastically, and I noticed the parking attendant eyeing me suspiciously as I walked past the bus stop. His laser rangefinder was locked on to me. Sorry mate, I'm walking.... Yeah yeah, next time, eh?
     
    Allow two hours for your appouintment, the letter said. I expected a chat with a doctor and a few simple tests. Instead I was poked, prodded, irradiated, and made to break sweat on a walking machine. "It's going to get faster... In ten seconds..." The nurse told me as I hung on for dear life wheezing and dripping with sweat. I'll bet she has a riding crop in her desk.
     
    However, it wasn't all bad news. Having pretty young nurses rub all sorts of exotic gels on my body is not entirely an onerous experience. Help... I'm sweating....
     
    Oh yeah. I'm nearly as fit as a fiddle. Apparently all I'm probably suffering from is aggravated middle age. So a job with NASA is still on then?
     
    it's A Hot Day
    No sooner had I recovered from exertions in the hospital than I had to walk home again, and the sun is extraordinarily warm today. Help... I'm sweating....
     
    It's A Hot Meal
    A quick pit stop at home before embarking on the next part of my busy day. Haven't got time to cook anything, so it's the left over chilli from the weekend sitting in my fridge. Gulp. Not sure if that's a good idea.... A few minutes in the microwave... Ping!... And now to torture my tase buds with exotic spices the likes of which have ne'er been swallowed before.... Help... I'm sweating...
     
    Meanwhile, Back At The Programme Centre
    Oh heck... I've got jobs to find and so little time left to apply for them before the centre closes for the afternoon. Help... I'm sweating....
  15. caldrail
    Another blow to my individuality stares me in the face this morning. In my emails is a reply to a job application which says my attempt to persuade a certain job agency that I would like to be put forward for this particular role is now considered spam.
     
    If that doesn't confirm what an obstacle to finding a job the employement agnecies are, what is? So many vacancies are now exclusively in the hands of these agencies who frankly worry more about their contracts than their customers. I hate agencies. Utterly. Modern slave traders.
     
    On The Plus Side
    What a nice day. Sunshine, blue skies, everyone relaxing before the big wedding tomorrow.
     
    Except I have to visit the Job Centre and be interviewd by Customer Compliance. Again. But lets not worry unduly. After I've been savaged in a life or death struggle with a claims advisor, I have the prospect of a long walk to look forward to, so I can enjoy the bright sunny weather.
     
    And pay the postage on a letter the postman wouldn't put through my door.
  16. caldrail

    Oops And Ouch

    By caldrail,

    Time for another health check this morning. The slightly confused nurse asked me what my appointment was for. I told her it was for another blood test.
     
    "Who put you forward for that?" She enquired. You did, three months ago. At least my memory isn't failing. Then again, it never pays to upset a nurse. She brought out her needle and loomed menacingly over me as she strapped my arm down.
     
    This won't hurt a bit....
     
    Oh To Heck With It
    The burned out shell of the Locarno, most recently a nightclub in a victorian merchant house, was touted as part of an italianate development to improve the Old Town enviroment. Trouble is, no-one can think of what to use the Locarno for. So they're thinking of demolishing it.
     
    Use it or lose it. That's Swindon.
     
    Hot Tip of the Week
    If anyone is tempted to find a new and inventive method of using a door, you might like to know that I attrempted the "Whoops I've tripped and headbutted the door" method this morning. So using the door handle is still the most efficient and pain free means of access.
     
    If anyone wants visual confirmation of my results, I have a big bruise over my left eye and no, the nurse didn't do it.
  17. caldrail

    Bruised Ego's

    By caldrail,

    I woke this morning to discover that bruises have a life of their own. Sounds strange? Well, the bruise obtained in my argument with a door the day before has now migrated from a large lump over my eye to a black ring around it. Oh no. I have a black eye. I look like like I've done ten rounds with Mike Tyson, though in all fairness, experts would probably note I only have one bruise thus did not last beyond one punch. Doors are tough opponents.
     
    What bothers me though is that I nearly achieved a fifty year unroken record for not getting a black eye. Now look. I'm the same as everyone else, except that I wasn't drunk when it happened.
     
    Will They Or Won't They?
    The tension was mounting. Would the department store ring me or not? Would I be offered a fast paced and rewarding career in furniture removals, or be cast aside as a worthless loser by high street consumerism?
     
    This is nailbiting stuff. A failure brings a risk of further humiliation from the Job Centre, who have already sent me another accusation that I didn't apply for an offered vacancy. They don't ask whether you applied or not. The office have no record of it, so you haven't. Please grovel, apologise, and make some useless explanation before they decide to stop your money.
     
    They've done this sort of thing before. No matter. The form is sent off, along with evidence of application and one of ny trademark 'irate citizen' letters. Actually, humour aside, this sort of things bothers me immensely. English law is supposed to based on the principle that you're innocent until proven guilty. Apparently no-one told the Department of Work & Pensions about that.
     
    tThe Finale To Caldrails Big Interview
    The votes are in, the phone lines are closed, and now the golden envelope is passed to be read out in front of the audience... Todays winner of Department Store Recruit of the Year 2011 is.... Not me. Not invited to the induction. Do not pass Go, do not collect
  18. caldrail
    Today is not a good day. And the subject of my woe? That's an interestng question in itself. It ought to be about my car, the Eunos Cabriolet slowly disintegrating with a little help from a vandal or two. Reason being that it's gone. Vanished. Disappeared.
     
    I mean, did someone ctually bother to steal it? You couldn't just drive it away. But gone it most certainly has, snatched away more or less from under my nose yesterday afternoon.I only realised it was gone late into the evening. I doubt it was stolen to be used. Maybe the alloy wheels paid for a snort of suspicious substances? Who knows?
     
    One has to wonder at the attitude of the police. Frequently they tell us to report crime and be proactive in preventing it, yet the response I get is baffling. Last night, as I attempted to call the local police station, the officer I spoke suggested I investigate the crime myself. He seriiously said that, though I should point out that policemen are notorious in Britain for taking the mick out of the public in this way when it suits them.
     
    "There you are, see?" He prodded me, "You do have lines of enquiry."
     
    Oh? Is that so? Can you imagine how successful I'm going to be at solving the Case of the Missing Eunos? All I'll get is mystified looks and shrugs. So why the self-help course from PC Plod? Was he in a bad mood that night? Am I on some list of people to send on wild goose chases? Was it my own sorry fault for purchasing a slightly sporty car in the first place? Or does standard policy in dealing with worthless dole claimants render us ineligible for receiving the benefits of law enforcement? Goood grief, is this some covert attempt by our local sheriff to run me out of town?
     
    I should be worried. Instead I'm shaking my head.
     
    Tackle The Metal Thieves
    Not all bad news it seems. Todays local newspaper tells me that police are determined to catch metal thieves. The theft of metals, including lead, copper pipes and cables, remains a concern throughout the county and can have a significant effect on homeowners, businesses, schools,, places of worship, and public buildings.
     
    Hmmm... Seems not all policemen have been reading their emails.
     
    It'll Get Better
    the current catchphrase is regeneration. Everything about Swindon is regeneration these days. backers of all these developments are proudly telling us how great it will be in the future. Except... It won't... Because Swindon still has the same thieves in afterward.
  19. caldrail

    The Morning After

    By caldrail,

    My usual Monday ritual begins at the Job Centre. Walk in, pass by the swarm of security guards as they appraise me for terrorist capability, and ascend the steps to my assigned floor where I sit and wait for an interview... And wait... This appears to be the latest wheeze designed to catch me out. No searching the database for vacancies, just sign and go after a long wait. Presumably this will lull me in to a false sense of laziness.
     
    "Sorry to keep you waiting." The gentleman said as he led me to his desk.
     
    That's okay. I'm getting used to it.
     
    Not A Fluffy Add-On
    Cameron is thumping his fist and telling us all that his vision of a 'Big Society' is not a fluffy add-on. Correct it isn't. It's a slogan, designed to inspire some sort of response from the apathy that is british life. There's a sort of messianic quality to this sort of politics. It becomes a sort of religious sermon. After the disappointments of this weekend I have to ask myself whether politics and religion are any different. Both promise much and fail to deliver. So without any real policies and ideas to make Britain a better place, Cameron tries to get us to do it for him.
     
    In fact, I qualify as one of Camerons zombies, rising from the grave to work again. Come to think of it, zombies get a raw deal. I mean, all the films and television shows portray them as evil mindless killers hell bent on world domination. Most of the zombies I know have lost all sense of purpose. Some drift into a very real zombie-hood. Some drift into a dark and mysterious lifestyle that the government agencies hunt down and destroy.
     
    Me? I'm still trying to push the coffin lid up through the dirt. After all, I'm not a fluffy add-on either, despite the opinions of some zombies in my area. I have accrued years of experience of groaning and smelling badly in public places. But you see, in this cut throat world of cataclysmic change, it's the fluffy add-on security blanket that people want and need.
     
    Jesus Is A No-Show
    Hands up anyone who got raptured this weekend?... No, not sex with the missus, I mean vanishing into thin air leaving behind all your worldly goods. No-one? No-one at all?
     
    They say you shouldn't mock the afflicted. My horoscope for today says I'm putting other peoples needs to the fore, and that I should waste no more time with dogs barking up the wrong tree. I'd be happy to if they'd stop barking at me.
  20. caldrail
    Time to take Ol' Reliable down from his perch on the kitchen surface. As microwaves go it was a simple beast. Put your food in, select a cooking time... Three minutes?... Yes, let's try three minutes. If I see steam building up I know it's time to cut the power early. How simple is that? No complicated programming or indeed any intrinsic knowledge of cooking required. Just hot food, on demand.
     
    There can be no sentimentality in the cutthroat competition of consumer electronics. Ol' Reliable has served his time and the gleaming replacement awaits it's chance to shine, and very impressive it looks. Oh... Hang on... This has loys of heiroglyphs all over it. Ahhh, now, you see, this might be a bit more complex. Time then to swallow my pride and read the instruction manual. Please don't tell anyone I did that. Men aren't supposed to read instrucion manuals. It's why army NCO's have to shout at recruits you see.
     
    The list of do's and don'ts is a bit alarming. Apparently I can wreak havoc if the microwave is not used properly. I stand a real risk of being crispy fried, mutated, or spending the rest of my life glowing a shade of neon green. Okay. I get the message. Surely somewhere in the packaging is a rotating amber beacon to fix to the roof so that everyone within cooking distance of the kitchen is alert and stands well back.
     
    Don't laugh. This device is the most powerful microwave I've ever come across. It probably registers on orbital satellites searching for astronomical anomalies. So if you're a professional astronomer and you can't figure out that strange blip on the screen - Sorry, I was hungry. It isn't proof of intelligent life on other planets. So if you've already made that hysterical phone call to the President, you might want to start thinking about a career break.
     
    Well, no point being afraid of it. Switch on - and the machine gives me a cheerful bleep to tell me that it's primary defence mechanisms are armed and awaiting the ignition code. Put my food in... Now what buttons do I press? I have a horrible feeling this microwave was designed for people who know what they're doing in the kitchen. Let's not get clever. Tune the power down to what Ol' Reliable was and try... Three minutes? Yes. Let's try three minutes...
     
    Wait For It... Wait For It...
    The three minutes went by and no steam rose from the plate. With my former oven, that meant it was still cold. Yet when I try this one I find... The food has been thoroughly re-cooked to the point of being completely inedible. Since there's no Lady Rail to shout at me for being a klutz, I have no choice but to curse and pick up the instruction manual again. Somewhere in this document is the secret of succesful cooking...
     
    No. This is too hard. Looks like it's a takeaway tonight then. Am I already too old to operate consumer electronics successfully? No, I can't accept that. It's too much of a blow to my self worth. I'll figure the microwave out eventually. Therefore I've set the scheduled date for completion of this goal to December 2012.
     
    Cheap Parking
    Just lately there's been a billboard outside local newsagents proclaiming that the council are planning cheap car parking. Can you imagine that? Obviously since no-one survives parking in Swindon anymore, no-one stops to shop. The other day I was at the check-out of the supermarket when the lady behind the till looked outside and mentioned that some person was about to get booked by a warden.
     
    Funny that. Cars used to be a status symbol, now it's a ststus symbol if you can park safely.
     
    In the meantime, roll up, roll up, get your car parking spaces here. Kids at half price. All day family specials. Open all weekend. See real wild traffic wardens prowling in their natural enviroment (Please do not feed).
  21. caldrail
    For the last couple of days the weather has been interesting. One minute the sun is out and everyone is relaxed. The next a massive spread of towering grey and white cumulus unleashes rainfall on the unsuspecting. I had to shelter in a doorway two days ago while one downpour opened up. Not only rain, but hail mixed in. Ten minutes later the clouds drifted away to reduce someone else to a drowned rat. Now I can go about my business again, safe in the knowledge that my school swimming certificate isn't required.
     
    More Parking Costs
    While Swindon experiments with cheaper parking (about half price if the report I saw is correct), there's a welsh town that took the step of getting rid of their traffic wardens, admittedly because the of cuts in services. Now thee's chaos as drivers park anywhere and for as long as they want, causing frustration and punch-up's as people cope with random parking.
     
    The welsh townsfolk want some order restored to their car infested borough. Perhaps Swindon could send them some of ours?
     
    Have Some Turkish Delight
    One of the treats we get in England is Turkish Delight, a sort of sweet purple gel encased in chocolate. Yum. My boss has returned from a holiday in Turkey (Mrs Boss insisted on going abroad) and brought back a colourful box full of Turkish Turkish Delight.
     
    Firstly, it looks nothing like the picture on the box lid. Secondly, it tastes a bit bland, if pleasant nonetheless. Thirdly, everyone keeps asking me if I want another one. No, I've eaten loads of them already and I still prefer the english stuff.
     
    Come to think of it, we only started getting rain after my boss came back from holiday. That box has altered our climate!
  22. caldrail

    Hail and Horns

    By caldrail,

    There's nothing like lazing in a hot bath. Now that I'm on metered water it's become a luxury, yet the pleasure of lying in hot water and just relaxing for an hour is great. So last night I followed the usual ritual and slid into the water with a satisified sigh.
     
    Outside all was not well. The weather reports had warned of showers but what followed sounded like I was under siege. The heavens opened and down came hail, rattling and pinging on the roofs arund the bathroom like incessant arrow fire. I knew the house was a sturdy shelter against ice falling from the sky, but the sound echoes oddly and half the time it sounds like it's coming through the roof and bouncing around indoors.
     
    That was pretty savage for a british hailstorm. Mostly we get short spurts, indifferent little pellets that sting annoyingly when they find their target. Most often it's mixed with rain and never lasts long. Yesterdays assault went for ten minutes. Good grief.!
     
    Bump
    I've just watched the video for that alarming crash by Allan McNish at the Le Mans 24Hr. For those who haven't seen it, McNish clips another car and slides off the track and across the gravel trap, hitting the guard barrier with such force the car lifts into the air spinning as it dismantles itself.
     
    Such things can happen in motor races. It only takes a little nudge to spoil a cars balance. At high speed, reacting and coping with sudden unexpected forces tests the best racing driver and even they often cannot react quick enough.
     
    Walking back from Commonhead a few days ago I heard a horn sounding on the dual carriageway in the distance behind me. Probably someone moved across without careful observation. Actually that would have been much the same cause as the Le mans crash although in this case no more than tempers were frayed.
     
    Then a bunch of cars passed me. The dual carriageway is speed restricted these days but no-one seems to have told the driver of a silver Ford Focus. He was determined to push through the knot of cars come what may. Again he blasted his horn, squeezing between vehcles moving at the speed limit with very little margin for error.
     
    Now I do admit I've driven cars speedily in my younger days, but never like that! If the road is blocked, it's blocked. Actually it does remind me of one time when I drove into Wales for a day out in the Black Hills. On a nearly empty dual carriageway I overtook a slower car properly and and at legal speed. A BMW behind me decided he wanted to get by. With a low sun blinding my mirrors I had to be a little patient before pulling back into the slow lane - didn't want to cause an accident - but the BMW pushed past me on the right virtually scraping the central barrier.
     
    Bearing in mind what I saw in that visddeo, it's a bit thought provoking how a little impatience can create dangerous situations.
  23. caldrail
    It was such a lovely afternoon yesterday that I couldn't help taking a wander around some of our local open spaces. I was in the mood for a break. The aggravations of job searching seem especially aggravating right now, simply because it feels like I'm trying to wade upstream right now. After nearly two decades in warehousing you would think I'd learnt a few things, but apparently job agencies regard me as lacking the necessary experience. Pardon?
     
    Anyway, that's enough of a gripe. The weather was fine and a cool breeze made it very pleasant indeed. Maybe it's just as well I took advantage of the sun. Apparently the weather is to return to standard british format by friday (which for those of you who aren't acquainted with England, that means rain).
     
    Swindon Indiana
    Sometimes I get bizarre offers of employment. There' a job for
  24. caldrail

    Urban Survival

    By caldrail,

    Every so often I see news footage of some disaster or conflict that results in people abandoning homes to live in tented shanties. Like most things reported by television, it's all very terrible and you know people are suffering, but the filmed sequences never really prepare you for the reality of it. After all, when you're watching these things, the chances are you're comfortable in a warm secure house with no particular worries except how to afford the bills.
     
    Just of late there's been a series of adverts asking for donations to feed starving africans. The images of listless and almost lifeless infants are something to stir pity, whilst the adverts as a whole attempts to stir guilt about our prosperity. A few quid every month and this woman can feed her kids. It's all very humane of course, but the problem with paying money to good causes is that it never seems to help, and in any case, if those infants survive, they breed kids of their own and the problem multiplies the next generation.
     
    That's a hard message isn't it? Unfortunately we're not exempt from the Rabbit and Fox diagram we studied as kids at school. If we can't find food, we starve. If we eat, we have have children. it's the same around the world. Much is made of green issues. Pollution, deforestation, species reduction, and so forth. Truth is, there are too many humans. Do you really want to do something about that to make life better for the lucky few? That's a harder message still.
     
    Recently I received a message from a lady who asked to get to know me. I'm always a bit wary of internet friendships, and the sites like Facebook never really draw my attention. It all seems very ethereal and meaningless. For some people, merely a popularity contest. Hardly real friendships in many cases. Still, you never know. Lonelieness is a plague in our modern anonymous society, and I do understand how that can affect people. So I replied on face value, a brief message to let the lady know she wasn't being rebuffed mercilessly.
     
    Today I received another email from her. A young african woman, very attractive, posing against a palm tree and explaining her difficult circumstances. I must admit, it looks very much like a honey trap. If the young woman is being honest and her life really is that difficult, then my heart goes out to her. On the other hand, it begins to look rather more like a blatant attempt to survive in somewhat wealthier circumstances than west africa can offer her. Boy, is she going to be disappointed.
     
    Survival of the Fittest
    There seems to be a new cat on the block. There it is. Black, white, and ginger splotches, easy to spot when it's prowling around the asphalt areas but no doubt all but invisible in shadows beneath foliage in winter and autumn. I've seen it out in the yard, patrolling its territory and looking for birds and vermin to play with. Once, as I opened the back window, it looked back at me from thirty yards away very suspiciously and kept an eye on me as it wandered toward a secluded part of the buildings on the street further away. What was it expecting? For me to leap onto the back roof, jump down into the yard, and chase it?
     
    Obviously that's all part of survival in the rainforests of Darlest Wiltshire. Might have to raise my game then. Where can I book a class in gymnastics?
     
    Survival of the Fastest
    There's been a few wonderful cars spotted driving through Swindon. Just the other day a silver Noble rumbled past with that slightly sharp exhaust note, a subdued hint of the screaming performance the car had available. This morning an old model Lotus Esprit was sat in the Old College car park, still resplendent in black and gold paint, a hangover from the glory days of Lotus's Forumal One days. Itmight be a seventies wedge design, harsh edges and lacking refinement, but it sure looks good. Great to see old sports cars are still surviving out there despite the best efforts of manufacturers, salesmen, politicians, and policemen.
     
    I wouldn't leave it there mate. Sports cars vanish in this area. I wonder if that cat knows anything about my missing Eunos? Hmmm....
  25. caldrail
    Ah yes, saturday night. A time for fun, frolics, or if like me you're an unemployed self-made noble accused by the police of being a fantasist, a great time to watch back to back episodes of South Park. After midnight, with or without alcohol, you begin to appreciate the true message of our two dimensional chums from Colorado. I learned something today.
     
    The usual crowd of late night wallies migrate from one watering hole to another. Some laugh, others squabble, but mostly they make loud noises. I have no idea what these noises mean. I suspect, after all this repitition, that they've long since forgotten but do it anyway because otherwise they'd have nothing to do between drinking holes. This is saturday night you know.
     
    Then I heard one wally with slightly less alcohol in his blood. "The truth is he doesn't do anything." He explained to his mate. I assume he was talking to his mate because otherwise he'd be talking to himself, and as we all know, that's sad.
     
    I see... So... I don't do anything... It's a funny thing but I seem to be dogged by that sort of comment. It's almost as if some people are too envious or too dismissive to accept that my claims are genuine. That's gone on for years, with one self appointed biographer after another proclaiming that I 'm not what I say I am. If I was a bit paranoid, I would probably come to the conclusion that these individuals are secretly coached in dismissal techniques, choreographed by experts to make their announcements during the silent moment between television adverts, and spend the rest of their week practising in front of a mirror.
     
    It's becoming very puzzling to me. Despite being a fairly honest chap, it's as if authority can't accept that I'm telling the truth. Policemen see my report of a stolen car as a cry for attention. Doctors are trying to tell me to stop smoking when I haven't inhaled from one of those stupid tar-sticks in my life ever. Claims advisors pull me to one side and try to persuade me that it's in my interest to be truthful. No, I tell a lie. It's getting a bit irritating.
     
    But what exactly is it that I don't do? Well I grant you that it's been quite a long time since I was frenetically gigging as a rock drummer but I'm working on that problem. Please be a little bit patient, I'm not as young as I was. Coping with twisted music leads does get tougher as you get older. Oh come on... Stupid cable... Gah!
     
    Nor do I fly aeroplanes anymore. That's simply because as an unemployed person the government won't pay me enough money to do that. Nor can I drive sports cars anymore for much the same reason, though it helps if my car doesn't get stolen. I therefore conclude that the spirit is willing but the wallet is subject to government control. Trust me, Mr Policeman, that's not a fantasy.
     
    Doing Stuff - My Big Plan
    With my reputation as a person who does things now ripped to shreds, I have no choice but to respond to that challenge. That's what blokes are supposed to do, isn't it? You know, beat your chest, shout louder, and if all else fails get yourself arrested so you can tell your mates afterward what you did last saturday night. God forbid they find out you didn't do anything.
     
    After much tapping of fingers on the desk I decided to make an action plan. All the agencies that have trained me to find work have taught me to make action plans. Carefully work out the optimal strategy.... What is the desired result... How can I achieve it?... Which steps must I take in order to make this plan come to fruition?
     
    After realising that I was beginning to sound like Adolf Hitler in his Berlin hideaway, and considering that world domination by next weekend probably isn't a realistic plan anyway, I then decided to head for the fridge and a cool refreshing drink. Oh yes. Drinking is what you do on a saturday night. I know, because everyone outside reminds me every week.
     
    Done Stuff - My Big Reminder
    Oh yeah... That hit the spot... Just in time for the next episode of South Park. So what is it that I'm supposed to learn from all this denigration and denial? Is it a lesson about conformity? Am I being cajoled into some adolescent struggle for placement in the pecking order of saturday night revellers? Is this an attempt to rescue me from middle aged mediocrity? Is someone trying to persuade me to take a certain action by way of deconstructing my self esteem?
     
    Dunno. Don't care. You see, if I were to build my self-worth, or indeed my public image, on the basis of acting on other peoples whims, in what way am I worth anything? Do you see how self defeating it is to surrender to peer pressure? I think it's someone else who needs to learn a lesson. As for me, I'll continue to express my individuality, choice, and freedom to pursue my lawful interests without undue interference. Next episode of South Park comin' right up after the break.
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