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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  1. caldrail

    Civic Pride

    By caldrail,

    I happened to spot a document in the reference library yesterday. It's a glossy colour planning proposal for Swindon's eastern development. Basically, Swindon is a town built on the left of a north/south road, the A419, which follows the route of a Roman road. Now they want to build on farmland to the right, the east of the A419. It's certainly a large development and clearly another step in the road to making Swindon a 'city'. Is that a good thing? The local politicans of course have pound signs in their eyes and are swelling their heads with ideas of becoming more important. It is true that for a while at least, the building work will employ lots of people. I don't actually think it will make any positive change for us ordinary plebs.
     
    I do note of course that the area is a flood plain. Given the recent evidence of how built up areas contribute to our flooding problem in this country, one wonders if anyone has realised that the hatched areas marked on the map are those designated from farmland, not asphalt covered estates. Still, they're the experts.
     
    It is a shame incidentially that I don't see any mention of preservation for the site of Durocornovium, our local lost Roman town, which will find itself buried by this new development. For a town that proclaims so much civic pride, they seem to be very choosy about what they're proud about.
     
    Swindon From The Back Window
    Sniff... Smoke?... I went to the back of the house and looked out, but there was no sign of a conflagration anywhere. This was in the evening. The sky was still blue although it was getting dark, the sun now below the horizon leaving a very pale rosey glow behind the dark blue-grey clouds littering the sky. A series of streetlights in the distance gave off a very strong amber shine. The row of terraced houses across the corner of the Old College site showed some sign of habitation.
     
    I notice that the people leaving in the attic apartments there don't bother closing their curtains at night. Since they can't be seen from the street, I suppose they don't feel the need. Perhaps they're too busy. In one window I spotted someone making rythmic movements. Life goes on I guess. As yet, the grafitti mice haven't come out to play. The white fence around the Old College hasn't any space left for more 'tags' has it? So tonight they'll be off somewhere else, cocking their little legs aginst any vertical surface with a spray can of paint.
     
    In the distance, out of sight, the echoes of a young man displaying his manhood as loudly as possible. I'll be stepping over the contents of his stomach tomorrow morning. A motorbike races along a street somewhere with it's engine screaming. And, if I'm not mistaken, that was the sound of breaking glass.
     
    They want to build more of this?
  2. caldrail
    Back when I started music, you basically had a choice of instruments. Good, expensive ones, or cheap rubbish. Music keyboards especially conformed to this pattern. That was the era when electronics were really starting to make themselves felt. The rubber pads of a ZX Spectrum micro-computer for instance. Not for me. I paid three times as much for a Dragon 32 because it had a decent keyboard. Nonetheless, a cardboard and polystyrene package containing a Spectrum arrived at our house one morning. My father, not being too much interested in this new-fangled computing thing, rang the company up and told them they'd delivered it in error. Oh don't worry, just throw it away they said. So pleased were they the lost item had been found that they sent him another by return post.
     
    Now the musical instrument world had the same sort of problem. A mate of mine owned a terrrible plastic box with yellow printed keys. It made the most horrendous noises known to science, and eventually, under the stress of my amused curiosity, began to emit random unintended noises that bore no relation to the control settings. It just sat there on the floor making it's own mind about what to do until we unplugged it.
     
    Things have improved since then. Makers of cheap musical instruments have improved the quality of their gear noticeably. Buy a more expensive keyboard and a whole hidden world of electronic possibility reveals itself. I was mightily impressed to try a Korg thingy worth about a cool
  3. caldrail

    Digital Demand

    By caldrail,

    Tony Blair once told us that he wanted everyone in Britain with an internet connecrtion. Now Gordon Brown is proclaiming "The Digital Revolution" and telling us that he sees the internet as an essential part of life, as much as basic services like gas, electricity, and water. The government sees this internet growth as part of their plan for recovery from the recession.
     
    Well that's nice isn't it? Ordering breakfast by email to the missus, sending that spreadsheet to the kids so they know what chores to do today, and firing up Microsoft Dog-Walking Sim 2009, before logging on to your employers network and watch everyone you've never met compete for the biggest excuses of the day.
     
    The government doesn't miss a trick does it? All this internet is great but you have to pay for it. Here in Blighty we only get free internet service if we pay for something else we usually don't want. A couple of years ago they laid all the fibreoptic cables in my area. Subsequently I've been bombarded by colour pamphlets telling me all this television, radio, telephone, mobile telephone, and tons of gigabytes download allowance is available for the low low price quoted. Then six months later you get to pay full whack.
     
    They're already talking about the "digital divide", where some households have broadband and others don't. They really don't seem to grasp that some people have the money to pay for this service, and some don't. No, that's wrong, they do grasp that, but they don't want to foot the bill for this initiative when the public can spend their way out of recession for them. The "digital divide" isn't eventually going to be who has a broadband link or not, but who can pay. Then again, why worry whether Britains poor can log on? They've no money to spend.
     
    Rush Hour of the Week
    What a lovely morning. The sun is shining, everyone seems happy to go about their business, and there's a mad rush to get into the library. Of course The Flash is always first up the stairs these days - he's finally realised that rushing around the coffee bar serves no useful purpose - but it seems now others are falling prey to that contagious mood. Not me. I'm too relaxed. I'll just saunter to my favourite PC, and... Huh? Booked? Aww pooh... Okay, lets find another available computer... Booked... Booked.... Busy.... Not working.... Booked....
     
    Okay. I'm starting to panic. Unless I find a free computer soon, the government will send me a red letter demanding to know why I haven't logged on....
     
  4. caldrail

    Unsubtle Hints

    By caldrail,

    It's signing on day again, my fortnightly ritual designed to ensure my search for gainful employment is suitably renumerated. The process involves submitting evidence that you've actually done something to deserve handouts. I can see why they do that - the government don't want to pay people for sitting on their backsides - but the jobsearch booklet you have to fill in with all the details of the search creates a sort of pedantic 'schooltime' atmosphere. The claims advisors come across like frustrated teachers, some very authoritarian, others more sympathetic.
     
    A list of todays new vacancies proved to be a dissapointing collection of occupations I have no skill, experience, or ambition of. No pressure she tells me. Nonetheless, it feels like a test. To her credit, she did attempt to bolster my morale. "I'll see you next time... unless you get a job."
     
    Young Couple of the Week
    Occaisionally you get people at the library who are so engrossed in their own business that they forget no-one else wants to hear it. There's a young couple in the next booth. He keeps on trying to tease his girlfriend whilst she keeps on trying to wear the trousers. What makes it worse is that now that this young man has now reached puberty, so he has that annoying resonance in his voice that no matter how quietly he speaks you can still hear that monotone humming. Luckily a security guard wanders by and they stop punching each other. Ahhhhh.... Peace and quiet to let me carry on with my business....
     
    Oh no. She's arguing again.... How many times do I have to cough before they realise I'm about to demonstrate my unsubtle temperament? The girlfriend notices my hard stare... Take the hint lady. She punches her boyfriend to stop the arguement. He of course takes that as a challenge....
  5. caldrail

    Natural Rythmns

    By caldrail,

    Morning has broken. I can sort of tell that from the light coming through the curtains. Even better, the colour of the light varies according to the weather, so I know what sort of day it is before I summon the will to get out of bed. A grey sombre look for rainy days, a dull rosey glow in snow, and a brighter glow in the sunshine reflected off the abandoned college building. Boy are my natural rythmns going to be upset when they pull that one down.
     
    So now it's time for my daily stroll down to the library. You see, my minimalist preparation is a grreat excuse for my lack of fashion sense. Hey, I'm an individual, me. So are my socks. Finding a matching pair that early in the day is one of my personal challenges, followed by the gymnastic event "putting on trousers whilst sleepy".
     
    Ablutions... Don't talk to me about ablutions.... Yep, there's another toothpaste stain on my tee-shirt. It looks like I drink gloss white paint and dribble a lot. Anyhow, time to open the curtains at the front window and... Yes... I forgot to do up my flies. I'm standing outstretched in an upstairs window with open trousers as a double decker bus stops at the pedestrian crossing outside my home. Why is always groups of young ladies who spot this sort of thing?
     
    Car Park Conundrum
    Now here's the thing. At the bottom of the hill I pass the College Car Park, which at that time of the morning is still filling up with cars. There's always at least one random prestige car parked there right beside the low concrete wall by the pavement. Porsche, Aston Martin, Maserati, BMW. Never used to see that when the economy was thriving. Now that the economy is failing and house prices are ridiculously inflated, everyone's buying hugely expensive prestige cars. Looks like the trend is to keep up with the Joneses expenses.
     
    Weather of the Week
    My usual method of forecasting the weather is glancing out the window. However, whilst flicking through my email site, I've discovered that this weekend there's a possibility of thunderstorms. Now that would explain the great heaps of cumulus cloud that filled the sky yesterday (today is just a patchwork of those flat-bottomed puffy clouds that don't do anything except drift past). It all seems very safe and secure doesn't it? Oh no, this is Britain. Our weather just hides waiting for the foolish to venture outside....
     
  6. caldrail

    Back To Normal?

    By caldrail,

    I was in the library foyer this morning, waiting for the ritual opening of the doors. The novel I'm reading is one of those action-horror things, set in 50's Egypt. It's a very readable tale as it happens, but so odd. Did anyone back in the fifties run marathons in their middle age to keep fit? Sounds like a very modern habit.
     
    The interplay is a bit cliched to my mind. The ubiquitous and ineviatable sultry woman (and eventual love interest, even if she does claim to be too busy - at least the love-interest hasn't claimed to have a headache so far), the old priest who knows everything but always makes an excuse not to reveal all, the nasty police chief, the arrogant king, and a ressurected demon having silent meetings to organise death and destruction along the Nile.
     
    It's a ridiculous story but you can't help reading it. Written a bit like a Hollywood thriller but in text. Lots of movement, but a no-brainer. Ah. Library doors are opening. Page.... One hundred and ninety.... Right. Back to the daily grind....
     
    Reunion of the Week
    My computer has been released from hospital. Naturally I'm pleased it made a recovery, it means I'm back in the saddle so to speak, but it's left me with a very disquieting feeling. It works fine, no problem. It's just that it seems all unfamiliar. You could describe it as welcoming home a family member after surgery, only to find that person looking confused and not knowing who this happy person is. Wierd how machines generate personality in our minds. Disturbing when that machine has a different personality. I guess I'm anthropomorphising the computer a little, but don't we all?
  7. caldrail
    Over the years I've met people on internet forums. We all say that. The truth is we haven't met them at all. They're just little icons and text messages from people far far away. How well can you know someone on a website? That's difficult to say. If there's one thing the internet allows, and indeed one of it's greatest dangers, is the anonymity of it. You can invent a persona and people do exactly that.
     
    Time and again I hear stories of 'women' being unmasked as male teenagers (Good grief, the world is full of wannabe transvestites!) or the cute friendly boy your daugter chatted to via the web turns out to be a middle aged paedophile who wants an adventure away from home. You can never be fully certain who you're communicating with.
     
    This has been brought into focus again by the Roman Catholic Church, something I find coldly amusing considering the numbers of dodgy individuals that organised religion hides in its ranks, but there you go. Archbishop Vincent Nichols of Westminster has warned that networking sites such as Facebook and Myspace are encouraging teenagers to create 'transient' friendships. It could leave them traumatised or suicidal he says.
     
    I think that's a little off the mark. You see, most relationships are transient. How many people do you meet find long lasting relationships or friendships with you? Precious few. That's simply how life is. The problem then isn't the site, but the learning experience of a teenager who puts too much trust in someone they've never met. Teenagers usually want friendships and to be honest they make the same mistakes dealing with people face to face. Or does the ranks of unmarried teenage mothers mean nothing?
     
    The fault isn't the internet, but the lack of guidance for young people in learning about life and how dangerous or disappointing it can be. So, Mr Nichols, why not try doing something positive instead of finding a scapegoat? You are in the business of guidance, are you not? Or is the internet too difficult to burn?
     
    Job Offer of the Week
    A few weeks ago I looked up a business address on the internet and sent a CV on the off chance thy might have a suitable vacancy, or perhaps keep my details on file for future consideration. Standard job searching practice really. Usually you don't hear any more, but this company very kindly responded. They apologised that they didn't have anything to offer me in their sales office in Swindon, Wiltshire, southern England, but their manufacturing facility is in Aberdeen Scotland and would I like my details forwarded?
     
    Not really. Bit far to walk every day.
  8. caldrail

    Risk and Gambles

    By caldrail,

    The British weather is an endless source of comment. When you want to start a conversation in Britain, you always begin by asking how good or bad the weather has been of late. Yes, it's been pretty good these last couple of days. Hot sun, light winds, but yesterday afternoon?
     
    It poured with rain. Those unlucky enough to still be out and about trudged past my home in a state of abject misery, their clothes two shades darker and dripping wet. I do have sympathy of course. I've been caught out by rain so many times before. Thing is though, even in dry shelter, I couldn't really be all that smug. Having been busy that morning I was sweating like a pig.
     
    It makes me wonder how people used to cope in the days before we thought latin was a good idea. No brick walls or slate roofs back then. Just a fur rug and a muddy straw tent for shelter. Come to think of it, just how far have we advanced as a civilisation? We're just as vulnerable to the elements as we always were. As a nation, we Brits seem very ambivalent about it. We know our weather can turn on us quickly but we so rarely ensure that we're prepared for the worst.
     
    Anyway, must dash, I need a few odds and ends from the supermarket and pick up a newspaper to check if anyones advertised a vacancy. Quick glance out the window... Hmmm... Weather looks good. Yep, I'll think I'll pop down there now....
     
    That Sinking Feeling
    The Airbus A330 isn't getting a very good reputation is it? Quantas had one that went into two steep dives, one has tragically exploded over the Atlantic, and now Air France has had a mid-air situation with a faulty airspeed indication. We pilots are superstitious creatures. I can just imagine the rueful expressions of aircrews flying them right now. It seems security needs to be stepped up at airports around the world - Mr Gremlin is busy sliiping onto flights everywhere.
     
    Life is always a risk, no-one is guaranteed survival, and the grim reaper gets us all in the end. Nonetheless, its times like this that makes flying seem more of the gamble it actually is.
     
    Keyboard of the Week
    All is well in the land of keyboards. I now have a serviceable instrument with which to entertain, amuse, baffle, confuse, frighten small children, and occupy council noise investigators. Can't wait.
  9. caldrail

    Lifestyle Advice

    By caldrail,

    Human beings are creatures of habit. We soon find a comfortable routine in any enviroment, finding a way of life that suits us just fine. Why then do we worry so much about lifestyles?
     
    Everyone likes to suggest how we ought to live. Religion has been doing that for thousands of years of course. It's no coincidence that churches and temples demand attendance and regular prayer. The government very kindly makes lots of rules to persuade us to adopt their own sanitised version of behaviour. Not only that, they give us lots of forms to fill in, so they can check. Some might be quite happy to have their lives ordered and regulated by someone else, to avoid the stress of choice and concious thought. On the other hand there's always a few of us who are unwilling to be constrained by conformity. Somewhere in the middle are the majority who want to do the right thing but aren't entirely happy about the restrictions that authority places upon us. Why else are foreign holidays so popular?
     
    The media provides us with a sort of escape valve. People can sit in front of television and watch other peoples lives, real or imagined, and the enduring popularity of soap operas is that endemic quality of human society, poking your nose into someone elses business.
     
    Clearly then lifestyles are an outward sign of wealth and status, a marker by which judge ourselves and others. Choosing a lifestylwe is a little difficult though if it doesn't come naturally to you. Choose the wrong one, and you can be seen as arrogant, haughty, a poser, or simply a buffoon. Obviously we need help to choose, and luckily for western society the racks of lifestyle magazines offer endless coaching on what is or isn't stylish.
     
    I noticed one such magazine yesterday. A glossy colour photo on the cover of a happy smiling woman, pleased with life, content with all that she has, and a very subliminal advert for the advice contained within its pages. There was a list of articles on the frnt cover. I wonder... How hard can it be to do the same thing?
     
    How to avoid Swine Flu
    As I understand it, swine flu is passed from person to person. So the best advice is to stop meeting people. Stay at home. Now that's a little boring I know so perhaps you'd consider taking up a hobby?
     
    How to trace your family tree
    Perfect. Spend your time investigating your family tree and discover which of your ancestors died of swine flu. Now whilst this might be fun at first, you will no doubt quickly discover your social life is suffering. Fear not. We have the advice to help you...
     
    How to find new friends
    Now this is a subject of perennial interest to human beings because so many of us are rubbish at finding new friends. One lady of my acquaintence suggested that you should 'love yourself before others love you'. Aha. Well I'm not entirely sure that's going to work in polite society, so perhaps a holiday might do the trick?
     
    How to cut costs on foreign holidays
    Don't go. That's a few hundred pounds saved straight away. Now you can get drunk for four weeks instead of two. How about that for advice?
     
    Lifestyle of the Week
    Also on the cover was Carol Vordeman, proclaiming 'I've found my passion again'. Good for you dear. But unless you're planning to release keep fit videos with pornographic content, I really don't see why I should be bothered. Perhaps my own existence is rewarding enough in it's modest way to keep me happy. It seems though that these magazines exist to fulfill a basic fantasy to many miserable and disappointed people. Personally, I think these people should stop buying magazines and starting finding passions of their own. They'll be much happier than wishing they could emulate other peoples. And they'll have more money to spend. Go on. Cheer yourself up. Get right down to the mall and shop 'til you drop.
     
    If you're still sat here reading this instead of rushing out the door with plastic bags and chequebook at the ready, congratulations, you passed the final exam.
     
  10. caldrail

    Ker-Ching!

    By caldrail,

    The guy in the music store has known me for many years. He's a nice chap, as far as it a shopkeeper can be. I guess I've spent a fair few quid buying instruments, drumsticks, strings, and several guitars in that period. He is of course, a businessman first, and kept a poker face as I manhandled my ailing keyboard through his doors.
     
    Yes, another technological toy has bit the dust. My long suffering Yamaha keyboard, which must be nearly a quarter century old, a veteran that saw action on the front lines of stage performances, has decided to stop working. Of all the times it could have chosen to break down, it has to be now. How can life get any more painful? No, that's tempting fate isn't it....
     
    The answer was staring me in the face. The salesman sighed and took down a few details in a fruitless quest to get the keyboard repaired, and warned me that if it wasn't an internal battery that needed replacing it's going to be expensive. There are pound signs revolving in his eyesockets as I write.
     
    Noise Schedule For 2009
    I understand that the Old College site is to be demolished later this year. Can't wait for that. Explosions, collapses, big cranes swinging back and forth, earthmovers, heavily laden lorries, loud shouts of "Over 'ere, Fred!". Just to get me warmed up, the garage across the yard started this morning with a mechanical rattle, rather like a manic robot woodpecker. Demolishing someones car no doubt. And charging money for the privilege.
  11. caldrail

    Making It Up

    By caldrail,

    Usually I pass through a supermarket checkout with little interaction. Do I have my own plastic bags? Do I have a nectar card? Twelve pounds sixty five please Sir. For the most part, these women are bored out of their tiny boxes and the quicker they can push you through the tills the better, or so it seems. It isn't always that bad. Sometimes I make a lame joke and they politely smile. You get the feeling they've heard me say that one a couple of times before.
     
    Yesterday the woman on the till was decidedly chatty. I sensed a certain enquiry as to whether I had kids. Expensive aren't they? Well, probably, I'm too busy finding enough money to pay for my meagre needs, never mind a family. She looked up with a cheery smile having convinced herself that I was a responsible father and then I noticed the makeup. Mascarra an inch thick surrounding her eyes. It looked horrendous.
     
    It would be easy to think she's after me, but then, I could have used any lane of the four normally in use, and she wouldn't know I was popping in at that particular time. I made another lame joke and having paid for the goods, left forthwith.
     
    Womens makeup is a funny thing. Used properly it really can make a woman look her best. I've seen one woman in particular wipe fifteen years off her face with expert application. Used with all the skill of a painter and decorator, it looks more like desperation. I wonder sometimes if ladies realise that a nice smile and a friendly manner usually wins the day? We blokes are suckers for women anyway, nature having made us that way, although I accept our motivations are often physical.
     
    Or, is there an unknown woman at the supermarket, quietly plotting to ensare me... I hope she uses less makeup.
     
    Accusation of the Week
    I was but a young lad, invited to Dungeons & Dragons session and keen to take part. The game was okay, I guess, DP was a hugely imaginative guy but without any ability in gamemastering (or indeed, social interaction). At one point in the proceedings, just before I went home, one of the two adult players said "Your mascara is slipping".
     
    Eh? What? Was that an insult? What's he on about? I was completely mystified at his knowing smirk. No matter. The next week I discovered him to be a poet, and boy oh boy did I make him feel uncomfortable with a much bigger smirk of my own. Mascara duly returned I think. Never did see him at the table again.
  12. caldrail

    Customer Service

    By caldrail,

    I got a phone call from a flustered computer technician on Friday. "Uhhh... We can't load your Windows.... Have you got a license code?"
     
    Groan. Yes I do. Please wait. Off I went, found the necessary document, and told him the code over the phone. He was happy and informed me the computer would be ready that afternoon. I hung up and went about my daily business. That of course means guitar practice at the moment. A short while later the phone rang when I was in the middle of a hot screaming solo. Oh not now you cretin! But a phone call is a phone call...
     
    I pulled the guitar of my shoulder and was about to put it on the stand when I realised I still had my earphones on. Oh... Ahhh.... Put the guitar down Caldrail, anywhere.... Oh no it's falling over!.... Whoops, I've just pulled the headphone socket out and dislocated my neck. Eventully however, I disentangled myself from those lethal rubber cables we musicians plug into everything and reached breathlessly for the phone.
     
    It ws the technician again. "We can't load your license number..." He moaned. What? Please don't tell me I'm going to have to walk across Swindon to sort this out... Yep, I am. That's an eight mile round trip in hot sunshine then. When I got there the repairman at the desk was busy chatting up the lady behind it. Not repairing my PC I see? Anyway, I handed him the info and he confidently promised the PC would be delievered next day. He'll phone.
     
    Next day I waited. Waited. Waited... Tired... Wait a bit more... Very tired... Wait... Zzzzzzzzzzz........ The phone rang to announce my immediate alertness following a cardiac arrest. A quick scramble for the handset.... "We've finished your computer. It's just been turned off." He happily announced, "Now it's ready for collection."
     
    Collection?!!!! Are they serious? "Oh, I meant delivery." He said quickly, "We can deliver on Monday"
     
    I'm busy Monday, all day. Oh all right, Tuesday it is. He'll phone me when they're ready.
     
    Simpsons of the Week
    I know this sounds like product placement, but the other night I fell prey to temptation and strode up the hill to the local fish and chip shop. The Chinese crew are all youngsters these days. There used to be an old couple in there who did a great job, but in all fairness, the youngsters aren't too shabby either. Apart from their dress sense that is. I know it's a bit hypocritical considering how fond I am of casual wear, but getting served by a guy in a soiled vest with hair hangin down his face doesn't fill you with confidence.
     
    That's all beside the point. On the television mounted behind The Simpsons were performing their usual buffoonery. Only this time it was dubbed in Cantonese with English subtitles. Talk about strange... Listening to young Lisa saying "Doh Jay Meester Pwinciple" was a seriously ridiculous thing to hear. But who am I to judge? At least the Chinese at the takeaway were enjoying it.
  13. caldrail

    Sad News

    By caldrail,

    My computer is not well. He's in a coma. No matter what I do, he refuses to boot up. So today I could no more than take him to hospital. There, the repair technicians are drinking endless cups of coffee trying to figure out what is wrong.
     
    A quick visit to the hospital before it closed for business today wasn't encouraging. They wouldn't let me see him, and the receptionist told me that the computer has not yet regained conciousness. He's getting a bit old now I suppose, and deep down you know that one day his circuit boards will go inert for the last time. Sniff. Hang in there old buddy.
     
    Finding Things To Do
    It's incredible how dependent I've gotten on that heavy plastic box. Most of my hobbies now connect with it in some way or other. The second thing I'm missing is the car. Without one my horizons have shrunk alarmingly. The third thing I'm missing is enough income to go out and enjoy myself. The government don't pay me to be happy.
     
    Not to worry. There's plenty of things for me to get on with. Maybe even things to go and do. There is a world out there after all. Even if it is pouring with rain all weekend.
  14. caldrail

    Secret Numbers

    By caldrail,

    Occaisionally I get stray phone messages. I suppose we all do from tiime to time, and there was a time you always got double glazing companies trying to sell you more replacement windows.
     
    Sometimes you get strange characters phoning for strange reasons. I remember one chap called me and I made the mistake of assuming it one of my mates (he used the same name). He then proceeded to ask where his hammer was. Hammer? What hammer? He then got irate because I'd 'lost' his hammer. Sorry mate, wrong number. *click*
     
    On the other hand, stray calls can be of a personal nature, like the young lady who valiantly tried to get a date by telling me I'd met her at a party. Which party? I'd remember. No, I didn't think she could tell me when and where it was, something I find a little strange considering she was so keen to go out with me. Call me suspicious, but instinct tells me to be wary of this sort of thing.
     
    The reason I discuss this subject is that I've received a phone message from a 'workman' who identified himself by his first name (as if that meant anything to me) claiming he needed access to my home to check for water leaks. His Liverpool accent didn't nothing to assuage my doubts. "Call me on this number" the message ended. Except it comes up as a '(No Number)' entry.
     
    That's happened before. Back when my outrageously lowered and body kitted Eunos Cabriolet still worked, I'd parked it in a well to do area at the suggestion of the Police and got a phone call from a citizen who was breathlessly keen to get me to drive it somewhere else.
     
    "I've scratched the paint on my car trying to get around it into my drive" She claimed. As it happened, I did move the car half an hour later, but she was mysteriously absent when I did. Something didn't quite sound right that day, and today, I got the same feeling. But I'll check with the letting agent anyway and find out whether they know who this 'workman' is. Just in case my neighbours are drowning.
     
    Pic of the Day

     
    Yes, I was out and about yesterday. Heavy showers and hot sunshine. A very average hiking experience then, and no strange phone calls to disturb the rural isolation. A pair of hawks circled the woods to the right of the picture. Large ones, making shrill cries. Aaah... Young love....
     
    Phone Call of the Week
    There's a telephone facility for jobseekers that I sometimes use. You sort of get to know the various characters employed by the call centre, and only one of them sounds like they live in Delhi. Unfortunately one of them is not entirely interested in his job. He rushes through the requisite phrases in a bored 'Oh gawd not another caller' voice and when he locates a vacancy for you, he reads through the description so fast you get the impression he doesn't care whether you write any of that stuff down or not.
     
    Sorry, what was that email address again?
     
    Could you spell that please?
     
    Sorry, was that 'm' or 'n'?
     
    Sorry I called.
  15. caldrail
    Yesterday afternoon I braved the rain and popped down to the supermarket for my weekly needs. There's a magazine rack near the door from the central concourse and to be honest, I've long given up any interest in it. Basically the magazines on sale either tell you what's happening in the private lives of celebrities, what they're wearing this year, or how men can have a flat six-pack stomach like theirs.
     
    This time though I noticed a copy of Mojo, an indie music publication intended for people who understand the secret language of music journalism. Quite frankly I've got little time for discerning the meaning of life from magazines and I can't say music journalists have ever impressed me with enlightenment about the human condition (or even last nights gig), but then I saw the free CD attached to the cover.
     
    Africa Rising it was called. A collection of various artists and their ethnic music. For some reason this intrigued me. Quite why I don't know. Africa has never loomed large in my conciousness and ethnic music doesn't rouse me. I admit I liked the Giant Leap album, the one with Robbie Williams on it, and also No Quarter (Robert Plant & Jimmy Page) which contained ethnic versions of Led Zeppelin tracks.
     
    The genre is full of rythmn with a sort of warm chaos to it, a bit like primitive jazz. Am I developing a taste for African music? Good grief, all my dead heavy metal heroes must be turning in their grave. All I can say is that Africa Rising doesn't disappoint.
     
    Compliment of the Week
    The lady on the checkout till described me as a young man. Isn't it amazing what a copy of Mojo does for your public image? Who needs a flat six-pack stomach anyway?
     
  16. caldrail
    Yesterday afternoon I was strolling through Lawns in Old Town. There's a stretch of woodland there behind the main road properties which is overgown. There's a marvellous atmosphere in there. Sunlight shaded out in a sort of natural cathedral effect. Where trees have fallen, younger growth has sprouted around the base of old trees making layers of thick foliage. I like to wander in there sometimes. You find all sorts of strange things lurking in that shadowy realm. My curiosity was aroused by a felled tree and gathered firewood. I didn't expect that. It seemed a little odd. The tree trunk was lying there intact, and only that trunk. If this was a thinning operation, why hadn't more trees been felled?
     
    I spotted the dirty blue tent first, almost hidden behind the trees near the stone wall. Rubbish strewn at its entrance, leaving me with a bad feeling about this intrusion into quiet woodland. A little further on, and built against the stone wall, was a shanty made of old doors and hardboard. This small community of homeless people had been living quietly the other side of a stone wall from the main entrance to the park. I doubt they'll appreciate my presence, so it was time to move on.
     
    Dangerous Moment of the Week
    Urban life hides many dangers and pitfalls. Sometimes, no matter how streetwise or tough you may be, a situation will develope and you must be ready to meet the challenge. My challenge came yesterday afternoon.
     
    I was walking through the park on my way home. The path curves away from the lake and climbs out of sight of the people enjoying the sun by the waters edge. An afro-caribbean couple were sauntering in my direction. He was a muscular guy, tee shirt, baseball cap, striding slowly with his shoulders swaying from side to side, staring at me with supreme confidence.
     
    "Ahhh my god my god ahhhhhh!" His partner freaked out. "It's a frog!"
     
    "Careful Man." The big guy said to me, ushering me out of the way of the vicious brown frog, a monster at least an inch long from nose to tail.
     
    Phew. Thanks people. That was close. Man-eating frogs are rare in Swindon but that one nearly had me there. Look at it... Just staring at me balefully....
     
  17. caldrail
    Another glorious morning. On my way to the Job Centre I stopped in the park for twenty minutes, watching the various waterfowl doing fowl things on the lake. The black headed geese stayed by the shore, pecking each other for something to do before the breadcrumb crowd arrive. Pidgeons in all shades of grey didn't wait, flapping around and searching the pavement, mystified as to why breadcrumbs hadn't magically appeared. There were no swans today. Those graceful birds are a common sight here usually. A solitary gull circled the lake and periodically snapped something out of the water. Ducks swam about aimlessly. Coots and moorhens sniffed out the opposition. We sometimes get an occaisional crane, but that's a rareity.
     
    All this was pretty much what I expected. Then I spotted a single bird out on the water. A grebe. The sloping crest was unmistakable and almost as soon as I saw it, it vanished. That bird is a feathered submarine. Nonetheless, it was a pleasure to see one.
     
    Sooner or later, that old woman with the plastic bag will be along, and the birds will be there, each competing to get that last breadcrumb before the other. Apart from the gull that is, serenely disinterested in such lowly food, much preferring the quick dip of a beak into the water and a swift getaway with whatever morsel it caught.
     
    If anyone thinks I'm becoming something of an ornithologist, please don't panic. I have noticed lately that nature is all the more interesting when you have time to take an interest in it. You start spotting little details, the individual characters, the daily drama of survival on the lake. Guess I haven't much else to do before the library opens. Ah well. Time to wander down the Job Centre and scramble for that last remaining vacancy.
     
    Vacancy of the Week
    The Job Centre changes every time I go in there now. Each fortnight I sit in the assigned area awaiting the call for a thirty second interview, only to be approached by one of their advisors who tells me politely that I'm sat in the wrong office and could I go across the building. Sigh.
     
    Today, and somewhat unusually, the woman across the desk handed me a list of the latest vacancies and asked which would I apply for. This has to be joke. Temporary tradesmen, cleaners, carers, and van drivers. After a grimace I try to be positive and tell her I wasn't entirely interested in any, but if need be, I'll apply for the van driver job. Ah, she says, that's a self employed position (which renders it unclean as far as the government guidelines are concerned) so no joy there.
     
    Was that a test? Please don't tell me I'm going to bombarded by offers of driving jobs. I worked for a courier firm once. Thirteen hour shifts, addresses that Marco Polo couldn't find, and endless hours sifting through piles of badly labelled packages in the back of a grimey van. Joy. The things I have to do to earn my daily bread...
  18. caldrail
    A few nights ago, I was astonished at how cold it felt. The night sky was devoid of cloud and the chill very evident. Since then, the high pressure over England has brought hot sunshine with it, just as the weather people predicted. As I write, the open window next to me is letting in a cool draught. Given how hot the sun is this morning, it really does illustrate how powerful sunshine can be.
     
    I should actually know this anyway. As a young teenager I went on a school skiing holiday to Austria. Of course we had a great time, but although the air was very cold at altitude and the time of year for snowfall, the sun was always baking hot. I remember seeing young women sunbathing in their bikinis despite the wintery surroundings. So strong was the reflection of sunlight from the snow, that after my return my parents didn't recognise the suntanned me when I got off the coach.
     
    Once, as I walked our dog along the old railway line running round the south of Swindon, I became a bit hot in the sun, and although the temperature was below freezing, I felt fully comfortable in a tee shirt. A woman passed me in a fur coat, hands wrapped in a muffler, astonished that I wasn't suffering from hypothermia.
     
    I should have remembered all of this. I should have remembered the news about ozone layers and deadly ultraviolet. It's my own fault. It was such a nice day that yesterday I wandered down to the grassy hill south of Croft and indulged in a spot of sunbathing. Only for an hour. Don't want to get sunburnt or anything.
     
    Help. I have been lightly toasted, both sides.
     
    Playtime of the Week
    Walking through Croft Wood on the way home I passed a tree that I hadn't noticed before. At first glance it seemed eminently climbable, and since no-one was about... Well, I discovered I'm not as young as I was. Going up wasn't too hard, the almost dead trunk had a convenient ladder of boughs to scale, but I found coing down a little awkward. I just wasn't as sure-footed as I had been as a child (there is of course an easier way to get down, but that's generally painful).
     
    Having descended, I suddenly realised there was an audience. Converging pairs of dog walkers looked at me like I was a mental case. A man of his age? Climbing trees? Tut tut tut. All part of growing old disgracefully. After all, that bloke from the Rolling Stones fell off a tree didn't he? At least I can still climb. Just.
  19. caldrail
    Right. Now for another glimpse into the daily life of Caldrail, or perhaps an in-depth shock expose of goings on in my local community, or failing that, a commentary on world events?
     
    Well I would... But I can't. My daily life isn't something I've gotten yet, as I was unpolitely reminded by yobboes in the street last night. The screams of party girls and the drunken demonstrations of manliness (as perceived by ape descended lifeforms) is of no suprise to regular readers of this blog and certainly not shocking if you're acquainted with the average working class Briton.
     
    As for world events, it's all gotten completely depressing. Browsing the headlines on the net just now tells me that North Korea has just launched seven more satellites into the Pacific, another African has hitched a ride on an airliners undercarriage and discovered how cold it gets at thirty five thousand feet, bits of airliner are being found everywhere, people are being found dead years after phoning a helpline, and basically there's a lot of shooting going on.
     
    That leaves me with a quandary... What do I write about today? The weather? It's warm and humid. Like yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. And... Well okay, you get the message. It is summer after all. Just the right conditions for a ride in an open topped sports car! I know. What about cars? Surely some rare and exotic vehicle has cruised past leaving me envious and wishing I really was a rock supergod? Ahhh... Nope.
     
    Basically the most interesting thing over the last twenty four hours was having my job search reviewed and being told they couldn't think of anything else to write about me.
     
    Busker of the Week
    On the main shopping street through Swindons busy Saturday afternoon was that old guy, outside the card shop (as he always is), giving a bravura solo performance on his harmonica. He's blissfully happy. Sadly the shoppers grimace and wander past pretending not to notice him, apart from a small child who seems utterly entranced by this geriatric Pied Piper of Swindon. My worry is that this childs musical education is now forever distorted by his experience. Luckily the kid is too young to write an entry in his blog about it.
  20. caldrail
    Dreams are funny things aren't they? They say your mind works things out at it's leisure during your slumber. Last nights big feature dream in widescreen imagery was me and someone else robbing a till from a shop. I can't remember the details of how this all started, but we went in, my colleague threatened the shopkeeper (I think he had a gun or something) while I stood there gormless until I realised I was supposed to take things from the till.
     
    Anyway, having committed this virtual and dastardly crime, we rushed out into the street where our yellow van and it's 'flower power' paint scheme waited across the street. I suggested we didn't drive it, but instead found a dark corner to hide in until the heat was off (you can sort of tell I don't commit crimes like this in real life).
     
    And the outcome of this sorry tale of criminal outrage?.... Never got there. The garage across the yard opened for business and I woke to the sound of wheel nuts being loosened. Well, if I've learned one thing from my sleepy fantasy, it's that I'm a really crap crook.
     
    Waving Goodbye To The Heat
    Is our current heatwave over? Weathermen predict cooler temperatures for the week ahead following a wave of thunderstorms crossing the West Country as I speak. Earler this morning the clouds were indeed heavy and grey. Now they're white and hazy. Have I missed the storms? Or more to the point, have the storms missed me?
     
    The End Is Nigh
    Recent reports suggest Britain could be suffering 100,000 new cases of Swine Flu every day by August. Well thats wiped out the population of Britain in two years. One does hope that the treatments are effective (especially as bogus tablets are now in circulation) and that the virus isn't in a bad mood. If it is, this could be my last blog entry ever. Assuming anyone out there is still alive to read it. What a nightmarish vision of the near future....
     
    On the other, I suppose it is remotely possible that Mr Burnham was none too good at maths. Or using calculators. Or maybe he just dreamt those numbers up?
  21. caldrail

    Put Fprward

    By caldrail,

    It's depressing news. South Swindon has seen a 50% increase in unemployment over the last year. It seems then that my search for a job isn't getting any easier. But let's be positive. I did get a letter the other day telling me that my application has been actioned and I'll be hearing from the agency shortly.
     
    Huh? My jaw fell into my cornflakes. All my applications for warehousing jobs (such as those I've done for twenty years) have been discarded, and instead they think I'm suitable for working as a Tree Surveyor. I can see the interview now....
     
    - "Ahh. Mr Caldrail, please take a seat... Now, I understand you want to work for us?"
     
    Erm... Yes. I have applied for the job.
     
    - "Why do want to work for our company?"
     
    Oh no.. Tough question... Think of an answer Caldrail... Oh, you know, the girls, the machismo. Doh!
     
    - "I see. You do understand that we're looking for someone who knows about trees? I've been looking at your CV. I can't see any mention of anything remotely resembling forestry work."
     
    Ahh. Yes. Now... You see, forestry is a lot like warehousing.
     
    - "Pardon me? In what way?"
     
    Well... A warehouse is dark, full of stuff, and has lots of animals in it.... Help. He's looking at me like I'm an idiot...
     
    Latest Trend of the Week
    Firebombing is the growth industry in Swindon right now. There's been two attacks on houses over the last week. Those molotov cocktails must be coming off the production lines like nothing else. Or maybe not. It seems three blokes just got jail sentences for this sort of thing. Now they're unemployed too.
  22. caldrail

    Sabre-Rattling

    By caldrail,

    You have to wonder at the motives of North Korea. They push their atomic program in directions that raise suspicions of the outside world, fire missiles into the pacific and call it a satellite launch, and now throw away the truce agreed with South Korea after their own cold war that lasted since the 50's.
     
    How do you deal with a country that has this mindset? They seem so wrapped up in their own propaganda. Then again, I think the North Korean leadership found out that staying in power during peacetime was too difficult. Much easier to strut around with long ranks of AK's and missile trucks, waving flags and singing "There'll Be Bluebirds Over, The White Cliffs of Pyongyang". I can't help feeling that there's an element of Big Brother here. In true George Orwellian style, North Korea is inventing a tense political situation to frighten and bind its citizens to motivate patriotic sentiment of its citizens in the face of appalling poverty. It's all a big gamble isn't it?
     
    Sabre Rattle of the Week
    Behind me a young man coughed and hid a derisive comment behind his hand. Wow. What a man. Making nasty comments under cover of splutters behind their targets back. Definitely a man to frightened of? Erm... Nope. Go away you silly little boy.
  23. caldrail
    What a weekend. Hot sunny weather is something to be treasured. On my way through Town Gardens I just couldn't resist the temptation for a midday siesta, so I chose a wooden bench in a secluded spot and leant back. The sun was very hot. Even with my eyes closed I could see the light as a pale redness through my eyelids. Although the air wasn't actually warm, the gentle breeze felt like a welcome break.
     
    My first interruption was a wood pidgeon making his moves on that classy female on the next bough. At first he tried to attract her attention with the typical Hooooohooo Hoohoo noises. She wasn't impressed. Then he went for it in the vain hope she'd comply and for a few minutes they tussled in the foliage until she convinced him his birdiness wasn't up to it.
     
    The second interruption were a couple of boys playing in the turnstiles of the Town Gardens Bowl (a concrete open air theater stage - I played a gig there in 1990). Bored with pretending to be stuck, they started yelling "Hey you! The bloke on the bench!". They got bored of that soon afterward.
     
    Eventually families started colonising the secluded spot so it was time to move. I didn't mind of course, they had every right to be there, and they were actually well behaved. But that was a nice day.
     
    Bank Holiday Weather
    Yes, the weekend was a Bank Holiday, which means it's Recovery Monday today. The sun is trying to break out but we've had some rain already, and thunderstorms predicted for the afternoon. It never fails. It always rains on a Bank Holiday.
  24. caldrail

    Feeling Blue

    By caldrail,

    Today I'm at our local sports center. I have to, because the main library is being visited by Her Royal Highness Princess Anne, and for security, us plebs are forbidden from accessing the premises. Personally, you have to wonder if she only wants to reserve the computers for a quick surf whilst she's in town.
     
    Actually I don't have anything against her at all. I do notice that a certain Shirley Burnham, a pensioner campaigning to keep the Old Town library open, was planning to use the event to highlight her concerns. So sensitive are the police about royal security that they've already told her to behave.
     
    Parade of the Week
    Swindon does seem to be a busy place lately. Just yesterday I caught the tail end of a parade setting off through the town. I asked a council employee standing near me what was going on. He told me it was the Royal Air Force getting the freedom of the town in recognition of their service. Quite right too I think, but I noticed the naval uniforms at the back of the parade line. The council guy smiled, way ahead of me, and told me the Sea Cadets had tagged along for the ride.
     
    As a youth I was an air cadet, and my flight was stationed next door to those sea cadets. There was hardly any interaction between the two services at all. We always sort of glared across the fence at the goings on of the other side and kept a disrepectful distance.
     
    I watched the low pass of a Hercules transport, a salute to the men of RAF Lyneham, and remembered the one occaision I sneaked out there for an unofficial joyride in an air force transport. It was a very hot day and the empty Hercules on circuit training bumped up and down so much in thermals and turbulence that enjoying the experience was impossible.
     
    I see that the base is due to close shortly. Ever since I first lived in Swindon as a six year old child I used to see these aircraft flying overhead on their way for a landing down the road. The skies above Swindon are going to a lot less busy in future. Believe it or not, I'm going to miss that periodic whine of four turboprop engines and the woosh of a 'Fat Albert' on it's way home.
  25. caldrail

    Gigs and Graft

    By caldrail,

    Browsing through the local paper this morning I came across an interview with Master Shortie, Swindons very own rap star.
     
    Who? Never heard of him. I suspect no-one older than eighteen has either. The interview was of course unintentionally hilarious. I'm sure his music career is taking off and I wish him well, but since he made such an effort to say exactly lthe same things every other rap artist in the business does, you could hardly claim he was being original.
     
    He also proclaimed that working hard is necessary to get what you want. A very laudable attitude young man, but I don't believe for a moment you know what hard work is. In any case, hard work merely increases someone elses profits. Working hard for someone who supports your efforts is what you need. That, unfortunately, requires you lick peoples bottoms and whilst you're doing that, you're not working hard. Such is life.
     
    Master Shortie explained that getting up every day to do something musical was great, as if he'd discovered some transcendental nirvana and felt the need to preach the good word. Okay, it was an interview, so I guess he has to say these things to please the media, his fans, and his critics. The reason I'm so cynical is that his views are artificially idealistic, and in any case, I doubt he could get out of bed for anything else.
     
    A Day In The Life Of An Aspiring Rock Drummer
    So how was it for me back in the days when rock stardom was an elusive carrot dangling in front of my starstruck eyes? Let's go back in time.... Mwuahahahahaaaaaaaa.....
     
    It is now 1987... First thing is to be at work at eight o'clock. No choice there at all. The bills need top be paid and a drum kit is an expensive mistress, especially since you always need to replace or add to it. On top of that is the car I needed to cart the collection of cylindrical boxes around.
     
    I was driving an old Nissan Cherry back then, a sort of metallic green hatchback that went everywhere. I was once asked why I didn't give anyone a lift to and from gigs. Had they seen what was in the car? The only free space was the drivers seat. At least the car was cheap and reliable to run, although my insurance had gone up considerably after I collided with some idiot who thought he had the right of way to cross a lane of traffic in his van.
     
    Anyhow, work through the morning as an order picker in a warehouse. Physical stuff nonetheless, and some heavy lifting required, but at lunchtime it was time to drive home, have lunch, load my drum kit into the car for the evening performance, then back to work, all in the space of an hour.
     
    After my working day was finished at five in the afternoon, it was off to the gig. That could be anywhere in Britain. London and Bristol especially, along the M4 corridor, but also the south coast, the west country, midlands, and on a regular basis some obscure gig in the north of England.
     
    Set up, soundcheck, play the gig. I would come off stage drenched in sweat and sometimes with blistered hands. pack up, including helping the guys with their gear too, and travel home, arriving very tired around two or four o'clock in the morning.
     
    I had exactly the same routine to go through the next day. And the next. And... Well, you get the picture. So, Mister Shortie, have you really worked hard to get where you are?
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