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caldrail

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  1. caldrail

    Fashionably Wet

    By caldrail,

    The weatherman said it would rain early this morning but clear later. I won't ignore such advice and although the map looked encouraging with disappearing blue areas, this is rainy old Swindon after all. So when I got up I glanced between the curtains and behold, the rain has indeed stopped. Brill. Now I can go about my business safe and secure in the knowledge I won't get wet. By now you've probably guessed what's going to happen.
     
    Congratulations, you guessed correctly. I was of course completely misled. Once out the front door it bucketed down. Luckily the library isn't too far away and I arrived with only a mild soaking and a humourous appraisal from one of the librarians. Yes. You're right. I am soaking wet. Thanks for the observation.
     
    An hour later and the sun has broken through the clouds outside. Such is life in the rainforest of Darkest Wiltshire.
     
    Fashion Statement of the Week
    The numbers of dole claimants who've been claiming for more than twelve months (me included) has grown to such ridiculous proportions that the lady responsible for signing us on has been sweating with a lengthening queue of impatient people. The guy next to me, about twice my size and looking like a refugee from a football terrace, starting muttering complaints and dark curses. Sadly his latent aggression didn't help him one bit.
     
    Whilst waiting though I looked up and down at the various lazy and lame claimants. Many of them have the fashionable shaved head and wollen jacket, a sort of 'hard-man' uniform these days, and one guy turned up in unwashed clothes two sizes too big for him. Either they aren't paying him enough to eat, or he has contracted the terrible shrinking disease that also coincidentially afflicts my mother.
     
    One chap stood out a mile. A young asian lad, in a colourful leather jacket, sparkling white trainers, and a white head scarf. To be honest, whilst he clearly wants to look like an urban terrorist, he also looked ridiculous. You need to be the right sort of character to wear clothes in that fashion (usually only black guys have the necessary cool) and he was, without doubt, in street parlance, a poser. He's also an idiot because clearly he's got money in his pocket and claiming benefits looking like that is bound to arise suspicion.
     
    Apparently not. He sailed through his interview and left smiling, looking about to register our admiring glances. I on the other hand make the mistake of wearing clothes I can afford, thus I look downbeat and therefore remain a potential victim of claim-advisor zealousy. There is no longer any doubt. The key to success in life is to have ultra clean expensive trainers.
     
  2. caldrail
    Another day, another session at the library. You can tell which librarian is on duty by the amount of conversation going on. Today is the scottish lady, who happens to be very strict about noise. God help anyone who turns the computer sound up.
     
    The young man in the next cublicle answered the raucous mobile phone ringtone. "Aw right mate?... Yeah... Chillin' out in da library... Yeah... No... Wicked game wuzzn'it?... Played it on da wheel, man, well cool... (laugh)"
     
    That was it. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted movement from the librarians desk. She was on the attack. I cast a glance at the youngster still chuckling at whatever his friend was telling him, and sadly he didn't notice. She veritably pounced on him. He sat in shocked awe and fear and nodded agreement without a response.
     
    "Yeah mate, gotta go... Yeah.... No, coz' the library don't like phones... Talk to ya later mate..." He said, switching off his phone, logging off, and making a hasty exit before he received another mauling. A few minutes later the security guard strolled past and began chatting to her. Come on, people, this is a library, please keep the conversation down a bit....
     
    Deal of the Week
    Its time for another chat at the Job Centre. I've been requested to turn up on a certain date and time for an interview with New Deal. There are some people who would say that was an interview at the Joke Centre with Raw Deal. Perhaps, but it might get worse. The Conservatives are making unemployment a major selling point for the next election and clearly they've set their sights on people who claim Incapacity Benefit ("Can't work for health reasons", but I don't claim that seeing as I'm officially fit and healthy according to the claims advisor, as if I didn't already know)
     
    I suspect this is going to hurt. No pain, no gain, I suppose, and seeing as a harder regime is looming on the horizon I don't have much choice. Wage slaves apply here.
     
  3. caldrail
    Given my prediliction for using computers I can hardly claim to be a technophobe, but I must confess when it comes to mobile phones I'm almost a luddite. I hate the things. Horrible little contrivances designed to frustrate the owner and annoy everybody else in the vicinity.
     
    Buying them is a little problematic for me too. High street vendors are very keen to fit you into a stereotype, which annoys me greatly, because I just don't want a phone for the reasons they're trying to sell them. What I get offered these days is a lifestyle organiser. Do I really need all that functionality? All I want is a means of communication. A phone line with some text message capability.
     
    That would be great if the nasty little device actually worked. The problem is the battery. When you buy the phone, the salesperson will insist the charge will last... oh... two or three weeks. Oh? Mine always lasts two or three days, and one battery I use as a backup lasts two or three hours before beeping at me and cheerily informing me that it's about to expire any second now and attempting to make a phone call will result in embarrasement and failure.
     
    And on the subject - don't get it wet. Mobile phones aren't waterproof. As I've discovered twice to my cost, these devices were never intended for convenient communication in anything other than a dry urban enviroment, which is suprising considering the utility of a mobile in the wild can't be underestimated.
     
    Not any more. There is now a clockwork mobile phone. You pull it out and wind it up to start. One minute of winding will generate three or four minutes of phone time before it beeps at you to get more exercise.
     
    Is it just me, or have mobile phone manufacturers missed the point? Much as this new phone means I would be freed from the tyranny of the battery charger, it's also rather like being freed from the tyranny of a car salesman by buying a Model T Ford.
     
    Advice of the Week
    The library computer whirred away as I went about my daily chores busily. So far I hadn't gotten one of those annoying 'Must terminate process' dialog boxes and I was downloading information off the net at a rapid pace. I wasn't aware of the approach of a librarian.
     
    "You're going to get into serious trouble if you keep on downloading *or*." He whispered. Pardon? Personally I've got no time for pornography at all. Why would I get excited over a photograph of a naked woman in a silly pose? (Put the real one there I might start to sweat a little - I'm only human after all). More to the point, why did he think I was downloading *or*? As it happens I was downloading information about colour schemes for Messerschmitt 109's in eastern Europe. Much as I like the subject, I'm not really going to get that excited over it. Go away you silly little man.
     
    Wow... Look at this....
  4. caldrail
    Yesterday was a really nice day. Plenty of sunshine but not especially hot. Even the policeman who'd stopped me earlier wished me a good time out in the countryside. I was pleased to note that the path up Burderop Hill, a climb that gets ever steeper toward the top, was dry as a bone. Usually the track is a muddy quagmire, at the bottom of the hill at least, but yesterday it was baked hard.
     
    On my way home I was heading for Chiseldon along a farm trail. A streambed looked glaringly obvious with white stones littering the bed. No water whatsoever. The story was same north of Chiseldon. The normally free flowing stream next to the old railway was almost dry, with a few stagnant puddles in evidence. At Coate Water, the River Ray has receded alarmingly.
     
    We had plenty of rain during the summer. Where's all the water? Times are hard in the Rainforests of Darkest Wiltshire.
     
    If there's No-one To See It...
    On the way out into the countryside I passed through Bruddel Wood. It's only a remnant of what it was once was and now forms a wooded path between housing estates. There's a big tree that looms menacingly across the path at one point and I'm never entirely confident passing underneath it. No reason, it just makes me wary.
     
    On the way home I came back through the same area. The big tree remained in place, but another smaller tree had fallen over fifty yards further on., almost blocking the path. I wonder if anyone heard it fall?
     
    Weather
    We might be seeing a few more trees down today. Gale force gusts are expected to sweep across England. So far it's blustery and a tad chilly. But I have to say yesterday I saw the most extraordinary clouds over Swindon. Long thick fingers of it, absolutely smooth and soft edged. Elsewhere, a massive domed cloud looking for all the world like a huge UFO perched in the sky. I've never seen clouds like that in this area before. Very strange.
     
    Bird Spotting of the Week
    I'm certainly no expert on British wildlife (Bill Oddie can sleep safely tonight, his career is not under challenge from me) but occaisionally I do spot something wonderful.. I'd passed through Bruddel Wood and was passing the lower lake at Lawns. The council have stripped the lakeshore of vegetation and it looked ugly. Are the council determined to ruin every local beauty spot in this manner?
     
    Anyway, it seems to suit others. One side of the lake was festooned with amateur fishermen taking time out from the stress of family life by waiting for fish to commit suicide by swallowing a hook provided for their use.
     
    Before you jump to conclusions, this wasn't wonderful. Perhaps the fisherman didn't think so either because I don't think there's any fish in the lake at all. Maybe that's missing the point. What was wonderful was a crane, swooping across the lake in such a dignified manner before landing on the denuded bank the other side. I could only stop and admire the bird from a distance.
     
    Clearly it was after something. Slowly, ever so carefullly, it stepped forward in slow motion with its gaze directed at the ground. Then it pounced, almost on top of its prey, and help up something squirming in its beak. A frog? A lizard? A small snake? Salamander? I couldn't tell at that distance. The bird looked remarkably pleased with itself before it gulped the meal down. It took off and gently winged its way back across the lake with effortless grace.
     
    Sorry Bill, you should have been there.
     
  5. caldrail

    Man and Machine

    By caldrail,

    The black notice popped up on the screen again. I need to retune my television receiver. Oh all right then, if you insist. Luckily channel Three Oh Something Or Other had a guide running permanently on a loop (Wow, wot an interesting channel!) so I wasn't technically challenged. Who needs nine year old experts anyway?
     
    Despite my extensive experience in consumer electronics, computer programming, musical equipment, and science fiction, I have to acknowledge that I am no longer nine years old and have therefore transformed into an old dunce like everyone else. Nonetheless I managed to get it done properly on the third attempt.
     
    I now have seventy eight channels to watch. Not that many compared to those equipped with Star Trek deflector dishes and bottomless wallets, but enough for my meagre needs. Especially since many are repeats of what another channel showed an hour earlier. Oh hang on... What's this?... A dating channel?
     
    Out of curiosity I paged through the single ladies searching for companionship. About half of the adverts were from a 48 year old woman in Devon. Who would have thought a television set could form the basis of someones social life?... Ugh... Not for me. Now if you'll excuse me, my neighbour is being noisy and I need to go and shout at him.
     
    News Just In...
    On my way to the library I was stopped by a policeman who took my details. Granted I was in hiking gear with a sack on my back (and thus resembled a drifter - I never wear my sunday best to wander about the countryside) but it appears my neighbour is responsible for 'an incident'. More news when I get it.
     
    Documentary of the Week
    Amongst the programs I stumbled across while surfing the channels on television was a documentary about the Battle of Britain. Actually this was one of the better ones, and one that made good use of outakes from the 1968 film.
     
    It wasn't all Spitfires and Hurricanes. Amongst the veterans recounting their memories of 1940 was one pilot who used to fly Blenheim bombers. Describing them as bitterly cold and draughty he visibly shuddered as he remembered what flying the wretched things was like. Imagine then his joy when the Luftwaffe bombed his airfield and blew his aeroplane up....
     
  6. caldrail
    There's been an item of good news in the local paper this morning. It seems the government has decided not to force housing development in the Swindon area, or at least look at proposals again, which means the much-criticised Coate Water scheme and the bigger East Swindon scheme will now remain in limbo until someone makes a definitive decision.
     
    The current buzzword in Swindon is asbestos. Our buildings are riddled with the stuff, including schools and public facilities. More than 11,000 council homes and 40 schools according to the front page story this morning. My uncle died from asbestosis, a lingering and excruciatingly painful end to his life he never deserved, yet the experts are telling us it's all okay as long as the stuff isn't disturbed. So what happens when the inevitable development occurs?
     
    Many years ago I flew over Swindon and it was something of an eye-opener to see just how much land was abandoned or unused within the town. Now that was after the railworks had closed. Swindons Great Western Railway based their engineering here and for a long time the 'A' shed was the biggest industrial unit under one roof in the world. I watched the demolition of that shed and remember that massive multi-ridged roof stubbornly hanging on to three walls. Of course it's all gone. The old sheds, even the wagon works that lingered on as premises for ailing industries, have been demolished, and for the most part those sites have now been redeveloped.
     
    Is that a good thing? Well, on the one hand, land has been freed up for housing and businesses, but a part of me regrets the passing of that Victorian industrial landscape, as grim and sooty as it was. But nothing stays the same, so the old era has been levelled and a new one built on it's grave. Sadly though progress isn't always desirable. There's a small farm in Rodbourne that was once on the edge of town beside the rail works. Now it's surrounded by an urban landscape and I see the owner is finally surrendering to developers and selling up to make room for seventy five homes. I'm just so used to seeing the farm working, small flocks of sheep chewing listlessly as they watch the world go by, and another familiar part of my childhood enviroment vanishes forever.
     
    Stars of the Week
    It seems my astrological readings are becoming less challenging and more inclined toward opportunity. Funny that. It seems to be a perpetual circumstance. Things can only get better say the astrologers. Sometimes you wish they would get better at reading the stars.
     
  7. caldrail

    Pump Up The Volume

    By caldrail,

    Music is an interesting phenomenon, apart from modern metronomic high volume siege weaponry. I speak with some experience having been a professional drummer during my mispent youth - I wasn't known for being quiet. However, as a drummer I recognise the need for 'music', something to listen to, something to evoke a mood, whereas a lot of music today reveles around the concept of physical punishment as bass frequencies pound you like punches from Mike Tyson.
     
    That's all very well if you like that sort of thing, but I prefer something a bit more tuneful, like heavy metal for instance. The problem is those darn bass frequencies. Brick walls can obscure the sound of my neighbours hi-fi to such an extent that I wouldn't know they were listening if it wasn't for the invasive rumbles, thuds, and drones that make you grit your teeth.
     
    One of my neighbours has discovered the joys of bass. Whilst it isn't actually loud, it's impossible to get away from it. The vibration goes through the floorboards and thus straight through me. Even if I can't hear it as such, I still feel it. The chap in question heard me yell though. I also heard his reply. Thanks for that mate, but you will find the law is on my side, whatever you believe my manhood to be.
     
    What the said gentleman hadn't realised was that I come equipped to make noise too, should I feel the need. Well whaddya know? It's gone quiet. Headphones on... CD in the slot.... Give it your best power chord Jimmy....
     
    Spider Spotting
    The remorseless advance of spiders across Britain is underway. Today I notice one fat ugly specimen has spun a web across my bathroom window, right where I can't get rid of it. You'll be sorry. Caldrail's Rushey Platt Villa is hereby an arachnid-free zone. Apart from the one lurking at back of the cupboard.... Where do these things come from? Certainly wasn't a chicken...
     
    Rain!
    I've just glanced out the library window and it's raining. What? Not heavy rainfall as such, just a concentrated spray of fine drizzle. The weather forecast said nothing about this! Having been lulled into a false sense of security by persistent good weather, I wasn't prepared for Swindon to revert to it's normal enviroment. Oh well...
  8. caldrail

    Speed and Power

    By caldrail,

    From time to time we all need a little help. Yesterday it was a young man asking if anyone knew how to get to the town centre. Even at a good pace, he looking forward to a hours walk and the route wasn't entirely obvious. So in a moment of generosity I suggested he came with me - I was going that way anyhow.
     
    We got chatting. He was a talkative type and the conversation was fast and furious, not just for intensity of communication, but also the subject matter. We got chatting about cars. As it turns out he bought himself a serious motorbike a few years back (so he claims, but I hadn't any reason to doubt him) and he described with considerable enthusiasm the thrill and excitement of travelling faster than everyone else. It's what you want a fast car for, he advised me. With that I couldn't resist a small lecture. You see, there are three reasons for wanting a sports car...
     
    1 - Status. You want to show off. You want people to notice you.You want a symbol of dominance and/or importance. You want everyone else to see you as a wealthy and sexually rampant daredevil. But this didn't apply to me. I was never that interested in what other people thought of my purchase, which mostly consisted of rude hand signals anyway.
     
    2 - Thrill. A fast car? A very fast car? The sense of power under your right foot elevates your mood. You derive satisfaction from travelling faster than anyone else, but more importantly, you want to experience danger as humans enjoy doing. You want to be overwhelmed by noise, speed, vibration. Again this doesn't apply to me. Sure, I like speed as many people do, but this route dictates that the car overwhelms you. Ultimately, the danger is derived not necessarily from situation, but because you're essentially not in total control of it.
     
    3 - Challenge. You want to master this raging bull or wild stallion. You want to push through a corner hard and with precision. You want to drive without thinking, reacting to the forces developed by the car instinctively, making the car an extension of yourself. You want to be a better driver (and not necessarily a faster one, though with performance cars the temptation is always there, and any idiot can press an accelerator pedal). Now this is me.
     
    Which are you?
     
    Research of the Week
    Can you believe this? The skull of Adolf Hitler preserved by the Russians turns out to be that of a 40 year old woman, not a 56 year old dictator. One researcher says "There is no forensic evidence that Hitler died in the bunker".
     
    Well there wouldn't be. The bunker was demolished some years after the war to prevent it becoming a shrine. In any case, there were witnesses to events in late April 1945 and they all agreed on what happened. He shot himself and the body was burned outside in the yard. Anything else is conspiracy theory, especially since there's absolutely no forensic evidence the man survived the war at all.
     
  9. caldrail

    Cold Water

    By caldrail,

    Without doubt politics is a contentious subject. Money might make the world go round, but politics decides where you get off. Throughout history politics has caused revolutions, wars, even a genocidal massacre or two. It can even get you thrown off internet forums (as I discovered last year).
     
    I once got accused of being a mouthpiece of the Conservative Party. Not because I said anything nice about them, but because I dislike the Labour government even more and said so. Such is the depth of feeling that political discussions can arouse. There's quite a big political discussion going on at the moment. I don't mean Iran - that's an arguement already and sooner or later Ahmadenijad will be foaming at the mouth in protest at the action taken to slow down his plans to elevate Iran to superpower status. I do mean of course the Labour Party Conference in Brighton. What? You mean you don't think it's that important?
     
    Cold Shower
    At the shopping centre where I did my college course there's a triangular area of pavement on a wide concourse. I never gave it a second glance but today, I discovered the purpose of this sloping layer of grey tiles was to mount a series of fountains. The water emerges from the multitude of spouts almost randomly. Sometimes individually, sometimes all together in formation. I'm not sure about the visual appeal of it but it it certainly proved popular with the kids. Three of them were getting a thorough soaking and enjoying every minute of it. What they're going to tell their parents when they get home is anyones business. I can imagine however that people will get caught out crossing that area of pavement. All part of Swindons new love affair with fountains.
     
    No, I didn't. Sorry to disappoint you. But as for people getting soaked, a small triangle in Swindon is nothing compared to the deluge experienced in some parts of the world.
     
    Investors of the Week
    You can't help but feel sympathy for the Philipines with flood water reaching twenty feet in places. Floods in Britain have been bad enough and whilst I've not directly experienced the effects, the news coverage has illustrated the material damage more than adequately. I can only sit dumbfounded at how people struggle to go on with their lives almost underwater on the other side of the world.
     
    I do however have experience of Philipino's. For a short while I dated a woman from that part of the world (no, not a commercial partner, she'd been living in Britain for years). I visited her sister, AB, a woman I worked with, and I was impressed. Her home was genuinely comfortable and I wondered how she was able to cope with the expense given she earned the same money as myself.
     
    On one occaision I took her flying. Her husband wasn't too keen but that was understandable. As it turned out the weather mitigated against actually flying so we had an afternoon out for a pub lunch. By the time we got back to Swindon, she was telling me how expensive life was for her. She was pushing for something and it sounded like it might be expensive. I remained uninterested.
     
    It turns out she ran a shoe shop back home. Her entire life was funded by begging from her friends. Her sister, who eventually decided I wasn't wealthy (and interesting?) enough to remain my partner, bought land in the Philipines with her next boyfriends bank balance. I wonder who benefitted from that?
     
    In some respects I cannot entirely blame the two women. They came to Britain to earn money and given some of the shenanigans that British women get up to, perhaps they weren't as bad as they might have been. A part of me though cannot help but think maybe there's justice after all.
     
  10. caldrail

    Cold War and Hot Temper

    By caldrail,

    I grew up during the Cold War. There were air raid sirens mounted on tall posts around the town, something I realised as a schoolkid although most of my friends were unaware of it. As a child I was hugely interested in aeroplanes and I remember those recognition manuals with grainy black and white photographs of those curiously gothic Russian military jets of the 60's and 70's. Of course I never saw them flying. I never saw them at all. That's no coincidence.
     
    Some years ago I was hiking down in Savernake Forest. A tight formation of jets flew overhead. This was the year when Russian Mig-29's were being allowed into British airspace for the first time, for a Fairford airshow. With a close escort of RAF Tornado's, the Mig-29 was being shown around South West England.
     
    The realisation that a Russian aircraft was flying past me is difficult to describe. Sure, this was the era of Glasnost and the Fall of the Berlin Wall, but all my life the Russians had been a tacit threat to the life I led.
     
    Did I really understand that threat? The idea of a Russian invasion across Germany was something illustrated time and again, and spy thrillers perpetuated the concept of this struggle behind the scenes. I certainly knew about nuclear weapons, I had read about Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and although I was dimly aware that come the failure of diplomacy, the fabled 'Four Minute Warning' might become real I don't think I really understood that, potentially at least, there was a nuclear warhead aimed at me. I remember a television news item about missile tests by Pakistan that threatened to start another conflict with India. One man said that nuclear weapons can't be as destructive as they claim. It won't be so bad, he said. Ignorance really is bliss.
     
    Today of course the Cold War is over. Apart from disagreements arising over matters of security and foreign policies, the world I knew as a child has become safer. Or has it? The rise of Islamic fundamentalism and its indiscriminate partner, terrorism, has filled the gap rather neatly.
     
    The spectre of nuclear proliferation has risen again with President Ahmadenijad of Iran pursuing a contentious course. As a man who declared the Jewish Holocaust a lie, announced the end of Capitalism, and the end of the Age of Empire Building, he doesn't entirely sound convincing as a benign politician. Given the recent public outcry against him in his own country, he comes across as just another petty dictator. Given his apparent quest for nuclear armament can only be justified by the wish to threaten others or even use the things destructively, it seems he's trying to build an empire of his own. Like many dictators do, he hides behind religion and justifies his stance by labelling certain cultures as 'evil'.
     
    Significantly both Russia and China have urged Iran to comply with western demands for inspection and control of nuclear facilirties. History tells us that dictators will gamble and push their luck to the end. So will President Ahmadenijad. His rambling speech at the UN was extraordinary. Not because it was any good, but because I can't think of anyone who could waffle for that length of time without drawing breath. What exactly did he say?
     
    Invasion of the Week
    British homes are invaded every Autumn by sneaky spiders. We've been warned they intend to invade this year in ever greater numbers, since the benign weather has allowed them to recruit new members in droves.
     
    There's a military axiom that says if you want to mount an invasion with a secure chance of success, you need forces at least three times as strong as the defenders. That would make my war against the spider look like a horror film. Remember that scene in Lord of the Rings where Sam defends his unconcious master against Shelob, the giant spider in the mountains of Mordor? Luckily I won't be facing spiders that big. Or at least I hope not. It's been a while since I looked under the sink....
     
    You have been warned!
     
  11. caldrail

    Pig Ignorance

    By caldrail,

    There's been some new fossiles found in China. That part of the world seemes particularly fertile in dinosaur remains doesn't it? I wonder why? Was the ara absolutely teeming in life back in past ages, or was it simply muddier and thus more got preserved? Anyway, they've found some new bird-esque species older than archeopteryx (the famous half bird/half dinosaur fossil recovered from Germany donkeys years ago) so once again the news headlines are full of Scientists confirm birds evolved from dinosaurs. I thought that was old news? I think there's a journalist or two that needs to listen to their kids once in a while.
     
    Piggy In The Middle
    Why is bureaucracy never simple? I'm on another paper chase. The College insist I need form SL2 (Nope, don't know what that's for either) and the Job Centre insist I don't. "You need to phone this number and ask for an interview" The woman tells me. She almost laughed when I groaned inwardly. Okay, I'll phone...
     
    Oh hello, this is Caldrail. I've been forwarded for a college course and I've been told that I need to phone you to arrange for a form SL2?
     
    "Please wait a moment, I'll just ask my colleague.... Hello? No, you don't need SL2, we don't do them. You need a proof of benefit form...."
     
    I got one of those stamped before. Sigh... Here we go again...
     
    Politican of the Year
    I see our loathsome prime minister Gordon Brown has been voted Politician of the Year for solving everyone elses economic problems. So how come he's made such a pigs ass of ours?
     
  12. caldrail

    Seeing Red

    By caldrail,

    The Broadband Tax is almost upon us. The government wants internet connections to every home and because companies won't lay cables in the non-profitable regions of England (amounting to a third of the territory) we all have to pay for everyone elses connection besides our own. The tax apparently applies to anyone with a phone line whether they like it or not.
     
    As a benefit claimant, that's asking me to fork out a third of my monthly profit to help some family in the boondocks enjoy the world wide web. Does that sound right to you? And if the government wants me to go on the internet too (as indeed they claim), could they tell me where to find an additional
  13. caldrail

    Dull Days

    By caldrail,

    It was quite a dull day yesterday. The only highlight was a woman dressed as an indian squaw as I was leaving the library. Naturally I looked at her as if to say 'What on earth are you doing?'. She was talking to a security guard at the time. He chats up all the women downstairs - I guess that's a perk of his job - but as soon as she realised I was standing there, she forgot him, smiled, and tried to shove a Walt Disney pamphlet in my hand. That's what you get for asking I suppose.
     
    Dull Weather
    Talking about dull days, it seems our run of great weather is over. It rained last night and this morning was a typical grey English vista of unrelenting clag. The weathermen are telling us to expect another indian summer this autumn so I wait with bated breath. I wonder if the lady downstairs was an omen? I should have taken the pamphlet.
     
    Lesson of the Week
    Must dash. My last session on the electrical awareness course is due and this one is about How Not To Get Electrocuted. Now they tell us.
     
  14. caldrail

    Good Excuses

    By caldrail,

    I don't know about you, but I've always found that weddings are such a pain in the backside. Perhaps it's different if you're the one getting married - I suspect in most cases you're kind of swept along by it - but as a disinterested observer you get dragged to a boring ritual then off to take part in the reception, a celebration that takes ages for you to drink yourself oblivious and spare yourself the mind numbing tedium of family fun. If you doubt my word on that, I challenge you sit through a wedding video. You'll see what I mean.
     
    My cousins eldest son DH is getting hitched shortly. The last time I saw him was as an angry and frustrated teenager. Now he's all adult and responsible? That's going to take some getting used to. As it happens, he's a New Zealander, and determined to do this wedding the right way he's asked for the addresses of everyone in England. Well that's gotta be some party! Sixty million guests no less. A mass migration of English people to the other side of the world. Just imagine that.... Factories and workplaces closing for the week, the entire country at a standstill, no cars on the roads.... Judging from the news recently, the arrangements are taking shape nicely.
     
    Apart from me that is. If I go abroad they'll stop my benefits. Hang on.... For the first time ever, I want to hug and kiss the British Government. Inadvertantly they've given me the best excuse ever to avoid a family wedding!
     
    Welcome of the Week
    The claims advisor was nice to me this morning. What? Discovered I was telling the truth after all?
     
  15. caldrail
    I've just sat down to write up this mornings blog entry. The weather is pretty good again. A woman stopped me yesterday in town and couldn't help discussing what a nice day it was. What a nice lady. Todays there's a hazy sunshine with some bands of high altitude stratus cloud in the distance, looking a sort of pale pink and grey against the cyan sky.
     
    There's also something else. Swindon lies under air traffic routes so the contrails of airliners moving back and forth across the Atlantic are not unusual. Neither for that matter are light aircraft at a much lower altitude. Despite the presence of a military control zone, civilian pilots like to cross Swindon for some reason. But this morning, just five minutes before I actually typed this out, I saw something else.
     
    At first I just assumed it was another light aeroplane. A dark speck in the sky. Hang on, there's another, flying loose formation and heading east. Now that has to be military. A pair of Tucano's on a training flight? Nope, better than that. The lead aircraft was a Spitfire. The wing shape is unmistakeable, even at that distance, and I still get get a boyish thrill spotting one flying. The other aeroplane? Now that's probably... Yes, it is, the Spitfires Battle of Britain stablemate, the Hurricane. Both aeroplanes flew over the house at around 1000' with merlin engines burbling away magnificently, with just a hint of a combustive scream beneath that gravelly roar. I love it.
     
    This afternoon I shall break out the flight simulator and fly my virtual version. As much as I would wish for a chance to fly the real thing, I must be honest, the simulator is somewhat cheaper. It lacks the sound, the feel, the smell, all the subliminal sensations of flying for real. But unless I can find the
  16. caldrail

    Another Day On The Farm

    By caldrail,

    One of college classmates is a farmer by trade. The difficult economic conditions have prompted a change in career (though I understand he now intends to work for his family farm). He's been pretty busy of late. Hundreds of hay bales needed to be collected for shipment and he was working into the small hours of the night getting those things stacked and packed. At first glance it seems the life of a farmer is all hard work, but he tells me that it isn't always so dull.
     
    The police called at his farm a few days ago. They'd had reports of people getting up to something in one of their fields at all hours of the night. That night, movement was spotted on the top field. With no-one else around, my classmate got into his tractor and drove up the path to take a look. He could see something highlighted by his headlamps up ahead, strange flickering presences like ghosts. Out there on his own in the dark his imagination was starting to make him think something seriously wierd was going on. Nonetheless, he idled forwards as quiet as he could in a tractor, and there, before his eyes, was.....
     
    Have a guess - The answer is at the bottom of the post...
     
    Excuse Mate, But...
    By lunchtime the dull cloudy weather had brightened considerably. Still very blustery, as often happens in Autumn these days, but it was time to trek across Swindon and attend another session at the College. My route took me past a recreation ground. This one has more facilities than most and that includes a nine hole golf course.
     
    Walking along the outskirts I could see a number of youths busy engaged in a round of golf. One of them paced back and forth impatiently as if totally uninterested in the game. As I got closer, he asked me if I would return his ball. There it was, just the other side of the fence, and as I tossed it back to them I made the observation that they hadn't had many lessons.
     
    "No," Responded one of the others earnestly, "But we're getting better."
     
    Apology
    To the young lady I spotted dancing on the pavement in Haydon Wick, I apologise for any embarrasement I caused. It was a little comical, if not completely incongruous, but suddenly going self-concious when you noticed my amusement was even funnier. Please feel free to dance whenever you like. Have a nice day.
     
    X Files of the Week
    Sorry to disappoint you, but the 'ghost' was in fact a scarecrow with a green reflective high-vis jacket fluttering in the wind.
     
  17. caldrail

    Homework

    By caldrail,

    From time to time I hear little snippets of wisdom such as "You can't teach an old dog new tricks". They sound clever at first, but I wonder if these phrases aren't repeated merely to sound clever, to conceal a lack of any real insight into the world. After all, an old dog is perfectly capable of learning new tricks, it's just that he's experienced enough to know he's being asked to perform for nothing. A case of "Lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink"? Just give him some maths homework... That'll turn him into an alcoholic...
     
    It's been a long time since I've been at school. Back in my early twenties, I'd finished my Higher National Diploma in Engineering and that had just about finished my interest in education. I'd had enough. To be fair, music was becoming ever more important to me and for another decade it would dominate my life. Dominating my life at the moment is the fruitless quest for work in economically depressed Britain which is the entire reason why I've been placed on this college course.
     
    Last night I was watching the news and following the death of Patrick Swayze, they broadcast an interview with him from a few years before. He stressed that so many people don't achieve their hearts desire for little other reason than fear of the consequences. That's no great philosophical milestone - Sun Tzu said much the same thing two thousand years ago in China.
     
    I often hear celebrities telling us to pursue our dreams. Of course they can afford to say things like that because they succeeded. It's very rare to hear those sentiments from those who fall by the wayside. I must be honest, my music never reached the giddy heights for which I had striven. Neither, for that matter, has my career. Since there's so little possibility of appearing as a celebrity guest on television or firing hopeless young executives eager for six figure salaries, I'll have to content myself with my college course.
     
    It isn't all maths. They have this demonstration board wired up to mains electricity, and they gave me a voltage tester to sort out which lamp fitting is faulty. So, following instructions, I prodded bits of wiring to find out which wires were live. I certainly found one that was loose. I broke the wiring.... Have you got any maths I can do?
     
    Pulling Apron Strings
    Talking about celebrities, they've been increasingly keen to adopt kids just lately. You have Madonna causing international incidents in her attempts to kidnap Malawians, and now Elton John is keen to express his new-found love for some poor youngster. Funny thing is, we only get to hear about these adoptions when bureaucracy tells them they can't have what they want.
     
    Clean Up of the Week
    I knew some guys were trimming the hedge along the alleyway yesterday. What I didn't expect was for them them to spread a new carpet of gravel there as well. Not only that, but our weed-infested front yards have received a fresh layer of gravel too. Gravel! Gravel everywhere! Fresh clean sparkling gravel! You just know it's going to end up on someone elses driveway.
     
  18. caldrail

    Whining Noises

    By caldrail,

    Recently I drew attention to a school in southeast England that has been criticised for sending a sheep to market as part of childrens education. Whilst it may seem cruel at first sight, those kids are learning where food actually comes from and learning that emotional attachment comes at a price.
     
    Here's the problem though. The human race is multiplying at an increasing rate. David Attenborough tells us that in the last fifty years, the human population of the world has tripled. Vastly improved health care and the containment of large scale warfare have of course contributed. There is however a more basic reason. Remember all those rabbit and fox graphs you used to get in biology class at school? With food readily productive and available in the modern world there are no shortages to limit human expansion.
     
    Of course there are areas suffering famine or obstructions in the food supply. The point though is that if people aren't starving to death they're reproducing. Sex isn't entirely onerous, is it? So like the foxes, when times are good we increase in numbers. The sad truth is that good times cannot last forever. Climatic change, natural disasters, or perhaps even a significant meteorite strike might tip the balance, and human beings will starve in huge numbers. It's almost inevitable.
     
    So as people multiply food production must keep pace to feed the happy majority. This is why our food supply has become so mechanistic in the modern age, and with it, a somewhat crueller detachment than hunting in the wild. As far as I'm concerned, hunting, skinning, and butchering are extensions of the natural world. There does come a point when this realism crosses a border into a much deeper cruelty, and I'd like to thank Roger Moore for doing more than raising his eyebrows dramatically. The former 'James Bond' star has pointed at the production of foie gras which to my horror is done by force feeding geese with corn mash via a metal pipe stuffed down their throat, purely to cause a swelling of the liver from which the delicacy is made.
     
    There's an honesty about fresh meat on your plate (even if the reality isn't always what we'd like to see) but to cause an animal harm and distress purely for the pleasure of the wealthy isn't something I can agree with. Can you?
     
    Restoration of the Week
    I was woken this morning by the whining sound of power tools. It wasn't coming from the garage across the yard, which has been quieter this year than previously, nor was it coming from next door, which is being renovated after it's last tenants left. It was the alleyway beside the terrace, whose bushes have reduced the car park access to single file pedestrian only, and no shortage of discarded waste such as cardboard boxes and broken furniture. I doubt however that the council will upgrade the surface. Every so often they fill in the potholes with gravel which promptly vanishes after the first heavy rain. The alleyway is now three inches below the asphalt car park and eroding nicely. In another year, trimming the hedge will be pointless because you'll not be able to get a car onto the car park without damaging it.
     
  19. caldrail

    Safe Roads

    By caldrail,

    That's it. Summer is over. Our three days of glorious sunshine has been brushed aside by grey cloud and chilly wind. Weather forecasters say it will improve this afternoon, which pleases me no end. Very soon we'll be in that dangerous Autumn season when car drivers forget that mist, fog, and frosty roads aren't as safe as the as they were in the last few months.
     
    Going back a few years, back in the days when I drove my trusty Toyota MR2, I was on my way to work early in the morning. It was still dark and the sun wasn't due to rise for another hour. The vehicles ahead were held up by one driver in a blue saloon who wasn't going to be rushed, much to the annoyance of all of us following adter. Eventually the cars in front either turned off or got past, leaving only a white van ahead of me which to my relief turned off the road. I accelerated to catch up with the slow moving saloon following the road ahead.
     
    I came round the bend and glanced alongside the car ahead. Can I get past here? Strictly speaking I could, but on a snap decision I considered the road to be too narrow and too short before the next junction to pass safely. It was easy to bleed off speed on the curve and I slowed down at a reasonable distance from the car ahead, which also seemed to be slowing down. Perhaps he meant to pull over for me but I shall never know. As I fell in behind him his car flipped into the air, right in front of me.
     
    It was a shocking experience. I pulled over to the side of the road after watching his car drop into the roadside ditch. I didn't know this at that moment, but he had in fact collided with a tree before he came to a halt (which hadn't caused the accident). What could I do? I stuck around, tried to help, and made myself known to the policemen who arrived shortly after. Clearly they had suspicions I'd pushed the man off the road. Of course I hadn't, and I was never prosecuted, but perhaps more importantly I never found out what happened to the badly injured man whose car had crashed for no apparent reason.
     
    There was one accident where I did see what happened. We were on our way to a gig in London and I was driving our somewhat scruffy van up the hill towards Membury. On the opposite side of the motorway, I saw a van bounce into the air, swerve off the carriageway, and up the grassy embankment. It rolled over rapidly and as it did so, the van body peeled open like a ripe banana. Several people had been sitting in the back. They were flung across the road like rag dolls and not suprisingly, there were deaths. Certainly I shan't ever forget that scene.
     
    It makes a strange comparison with events in Formula One recently. Felipe Masse being hit by a debris and driving unconcious into a tire wall, or Lewis Hamilton spinning off into a concrete wall at high speed at Monza this weekend with no more than inured pride.
     
    Speed kills? Apparently it's safer than everyday driving. Where can I buy a Formula One car? Finance available? I'll just have a word with my insurers...
     
    Car Accident of the Week
    Some young scallywag wasn't looking where he was going at the Rodbourne roundabout. In the midst of his conversation with his mates, no doubt conducted by telepathy over the noise of his mobile nightclub, he managed to force my sister off the road. No-one was hurt but we notice the young man chose to drive away. She really isn't that scary you know.
     
  20. caldrail

    Danger Lurks

    By caldrail,

    It's a sunny morning, a clear blue sky, so I thought I'd drop by the park and enjoy the sunshine. There was hardly anyone around but eventually this old guy hobbled to the edge of the lake and deposited half a loaf of bread in the water. The nearby ducks eagerly paddled after this awesome prize and began tugging at the sodden excess of white loaf with relish. To them, it was a veritable feast.
     
    Over the lake was a flock of seabirds. Small white ones, petrels I think, though I'm sure I'm wrong. One flew to the fountain, then hovered back and forth, beating it's wings furiously to stay airborne. I've never seen a bird do that before. getting a wash while flying. That's a first. Once satisified his feathers were bright and white (birds have yet to invent washing powder) he circled over the ducks and realised they were feeding. The little petrel chose his spot then descended on a duck, stealing whatever bread he could snatch away.
     
    The other petrels spotted this mugging and thought they too too could enjoy a feed at the expense of the suprised ducks, who were already thinking of moving away. The entire flock repeated the exercise, attacking the ducks like a rampant gang.
     
    Survival of the fittest, demonstrated in the safety of the park. Ahhh... There's a bunch of youths over there, beercans in hand, looking around for something to do. You know sometimes how you just know it's not a good idea to stick around?
     
    Hoodie of the Week
    Yesterday I was walking through our local ghetto area. I was just about to cross the road and looked behind to check for traffic. Instead, I spotted a black youth behind me. Well I couldn't fail to, he was only a few feet away. At any rate, I slowed down to wait for traffic to pass, and after the young man had sauntered past me, I spotted something in his hand that looked remarkably like a jacknife handle. You know sometimes how you just.... Well, youi know what I'm saying.
  21. caldrail

    Practice Makes Perfect

    By caldrail,

    With my long suffering PC now deceased, I find myself with a lot of time and no means to occupy it. Socialising? Not any more, my bank account is in danger of floating away, if anyone still remembers me that is. Music? Well why not. I now have some time to get a little much needed guitar practice.
     
    As it turns out, I've had a chance to play a somewhat expensive guitar, one of those 'Explorer' style instruments (if that means anything to you) that is twenty five years old. I've heard it said wooden instruments mature and sound better as time goes by, which is one reason Stradivarius violins are so valuable, and it's true. The neck was a joy to handle (unlike the unwieldy effort on my own guitar) and the sound had a fine quality to it that you just don't hear very often.
     
    Put it back, Caldrail, you can't afford it.
     
    The thing is, materialism aside, instruments like that bewitch you. They seriously do. Music is a form of communication and with familiarity you do express yourself through these contrivances. It's like finding a better voice, a better vocal range, better lyrics, clever grammar. All of a sudden you can express yourself easier and more fluently - at least, that is, as far as your skill allows.
     
    Pick up the old guitar, Caldrail, and practice some more.
     
    Practice Makes Pain
    When I handed my guitar to the music store for a little fettling recently, I did mention to them it would be nice to hear it played by someone else. I'm used to a certain sound through my own amplifier played with my own particular style (which is none too sophisticated, believe me!). The chap who whisked off a few rapid chords smoothly asked if I practice. Well... Not often.
     
    "There you are then. If you practice you'll get better." Said the young whippersnapper who risked a stern response. But he was right, I don't practice enough, and that was always a bugbear in my drumming days. So I'll while away some hours today happily pretending I know how to handle this wooden beastie in my hands, and push the boundaries of my ability just a little bit further. Ye gods my fingertips hurt....
  22. caldrail

    Patience and Progress

    By caldrail,

    Until a few months ago, one of my usual 'get-fit' routes was to follow the farm trail to Southleaze and cross the M4 motorway on that concrete arch bridge. For some reason it was decided the bridge must go, inspired partially by the new housing developments taking place on Swindons Front Lawn.
     
    Yesterday I went that way again out of curiosity. A new bridge has been installed but I wanted to see if it was accessible. It was. Not by cars anymore however. The bridge has steps on one side instead of a steep embankment, and the south side no longer has that curved approach path. That's all been torn up, and the track leading from the road now ends at a field. Which, incidentially, is also what happens the south side of the bridge. There's a long gravel path leading down to a grassy field, and you have to cross a potentially muddy area to reach the old track.
     
    That's progress I guess.
     
    Progress on Personal Fitness
    I can still sprint a respectable 100 metres. True, I'm not likely to challenge Mr Bolt (my legs just aren't long enough and my athlete to pensioner ratio isn't getting any better) but hey, I can still do it. Unfortunately, this 'get-fit' stuff isn't doing much for my endurance. I reached the top of a long rise gasping and sweating exactly like the unfit individual I'm trying not to be. Is there an easier way to get fit? What's the point of trying hard to stay healthy and active in later life if you die of a heart attack through exertion?
     
    Same time tomorrow then.
  23. caldrail

    Butterflies Wings

    By caldrail,

    You know, I'm starting to wonder about that Chaos Theory I mentioned yesterday. On the way home from the shops I wandered down the alleyway at the back of the house. The sprouting foliage has become quite thick now the College is an abandoned site. Where once you could drive a car along the rough gravel surface, now there's only a narrow path between the grass, brambles, horsetails, and overhanging trees. A solitary butterfly, in shades of brown, went about it's erratic business.
     
    Later that day I paused to look upward and the edges of heavy cloud were very apparent in the hazy sky. Rain? Possibly, those clouds looked heavy enough, but the sun was still shining so I took no notice.
     
    During the afternoon I was indoors, enjoying a good read. So intent on the written word was I that I really hadn't noticed how dark it was getting. What attracted my attention was a background noise, a rising tide of rainfall that was loud enough to overcome the barrier of my double glazing (which isn't all that soundproof, as I know to my cost). I looked up and yes, there was the rain, absolutely belting down.
     
    Yawn. The book's more interesting.
     
    A sharp crackle and a resonant rumble followed soon after. A thunderstorm? I looked out and found a very curious scene. The edge of the towering cumulo-nimbus cloud was above the house. To the east, it was slate grey heaviness, a curtain of falling water that obscured the view beyond a few hundred yards. To the west, bright sunshine. Looking out the back it was odd to see rain pouring onto the yard with the sun shining. You could see the water evaporating on the asphalt like thin steam.
     
    The storm drifted gently northeast, following the prevailing wind and rumbling away elsewhere. Butterfly - I'm impressed.
     
    Storm of the Week
    Hurricane Jimena had hit a tourist spot in Mexico. Wow... Those guys have some serious butterflies....
  24. caldrail
    Funny how little things can seem so important. There is of course that quaint Chaos Theory that suggests a butterfly in motion could upset a balance that leads to a storm elsewhere. At first glance, it seems a ridiculous notion, because the laws of physics clearly indicate that a butterfly would have a hard time creating a massive cyclonic movement of air that flattens most of the Eastern US seaboard. But then again, little things matter.
     
    There was that time I thought I was losing fuel in flight, when in fact it was merely a failure of Cessna's notoriously inaccurate fuel gauges. A minor failure that caused some concern at the time. Or the bolt in my little Nissan Cherry hatchback, the one the mechanic had failed to tighten after a service that left me stranded in the countryside at night. These are of course inconsequential problems despite the inconvenience they caused.
     
    Then we have to think again when we consider the tragic results of minor failures on Space Shuttle flights. One exploded on take off, another burned up on re-entry, both from stupidly tiny and insignificant failures. The trouble is that such disasters are politically embarrasing as well as tragic, and I see that the Space Shuttle fleet is to be retired in 2011, leaving NASA with commercial rockets to send their payloads into orbit. It seems a little sad. The Space Shuttle was supposed to be a step forward, the proof of concept of re-usable spacecraft, and one that proved without doubt that space is even more unforgiving that ordinary flight.
     
    We are of course at an early stage of space exploration. For us, the easy and mundane interstellar travel of popular genres like Star Trek are beyond us for now, if possible at all. A part of me hopes that NASA will recover its nerve (and funding) and make a better attempt at everyday spaceflight in the future.
     
    One wonders what the insurance bill of Virgins projected orbital flights will be, especially after the inevitable tiny failure occurs.
     
    Failure of the Week
    Of all things, a tiny signal splitter in my recording gear has disintergrated. It just fell apart, and I had to disassemble my guitar to free bits of it. Not the end of the world, certainly, but an annoying failure which now sends me on a quest across Swindon to find another. The local music store doesn't have one, nor does the video equipment shop outside the library, so I must gird my loins and head toward the business parks and the large premises of major retailers, to do battle with ignorant and insignificant shop assistants.
  25. caldrail

    Our Best Friend

    By caldrail,

    Dogs are known as Mans Best Friend. I certainly do know what they mean. The companionship of a canine pet is astonishing. Such is the pack instinct of a dog that they assume the role of family member more often or not. But is a dog 'Womans Best Friend'?
     
    Yesterday I waited at a main road before popping down to the music store to collect my guitar. Across the road from me a woman waited with her pet, a white and brown dog of some strange breed. It was a curious animal. It stood there with stumpy legs and scruntched up face staring at me as if was saying "I don't know what you are. You wait till I give you a sniff sunshine. Then we'll see what you're made of".
     
    The poor woman holding the leash implored her dog to come away from the kerb and walk obediently by her side. As sometimes happens with headstrong dogs, it took no notice. Instead it followed me as I crossed the road, slowly beginning to pace forwards to intercept my course.
     
    Having given me a quick smell and deciding I was basically harmless, the dog then lost interest, trying to cross the road the other way in the face of oncoming traffic despite the urgent appeals and muscular strain of pulling it back. The woman actually apologised for her errant beast, but I was merely amused.
     
    Two hours later I had reason to walk the same way. There was the woman, on the other side of the road, making futile attempts to persuade her dog to follow her. The dog saw me walk past. It's gaze said "What are you laughing at?"
     
    Puppy of the Week
    On my way to use the internet this morning I spotted a small puppy playing beside two boys. A little thing, a small Jack Russel terrier, which started yapping as soon as it spotted me in optimistic challenges to my right of passage. Instead, I turned toward the puppy. It stopped yapping. It stopped wagging its tail.
     
    The mother of the pup saw me and sprinted into view. She was not impressed with me either, and gave me a warning yap to behave myself in the presence of her youngster. Of course, once beside them, they both decided I wasn't dangerous and both said hello in the canine manner, excitedly wagging tails and jumping up.
     
    The little one was only nine weeks old. It had such a pleasant personality to it. I hope it retains that friendliness when the school of hard knocks makes it a little warier.
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