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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  1. caldrail
    What is it with banks these days? If for any reason you approach a teller with a request beyond simply giving them money they can't cope. "Why don't you do this?" They suggest, "Why can't you be the same as everyone else and ask for a service we know how to do?"
     
    Because your clever automated system doesn't meet my requirements, that's why not. Why can't banks train their staff any more? What happened to all this wonderful customer service? In the television adverts everyone is happy, efficient, finding new ways to help their customers. Which bank did they film that in? Certainly wasn't in my home town.
     
    And now shops are getting into the act. Supermarkets and high street retailers are installing automated tills so that they don't have to provide customer service anymore. Instead of a smile and a brief chat whilst your goods are packed and paid for, now you get hassled by an instructor who suggests we use their new computerised sales-android.
     
    Step one. Do not talk to anyone. You will now process your shopping.
     
    Step two. Scan your shopping. All of it please.
     
    Step three. Enter your payment method
     
    Step four. Find help because it's all gone horribly wrong.
     
    You know, I've never been one for shopping as a hobby, but it can be a pleasurable exercise. You get to know the assistants and greet them cheerily. Well most of the time. Occaisionally you get an ignorant widow of Saddam Hussein doing her best not to serve you, but at least it's interaction of a sort. All this cost-efficient automation makes shopping like working on a production line. You're late for shopping. Do that again and we'll have to give you an official verbal warning. Scan faster, citizen, there's a queue behind you. Sorry, but that card is not recognised.
     
    So what happens when something in this totally conformal brave new world doesn't happen exactly the way the planners intended? Oh no. This milk carton is leaking. There's no button on the screen for exchanging goods. Help! What do I do? The android box is repeatedly asking me if I've finished. I'm not trained for this sort of situation!
     
    Question Time
    The behaviour of newspaper employers is very much in the public eye right now. For those unaware of events in Britain, the mobile phone of a murder victim was hacked into and messages deleted to make space for more attempts to contact the dead person, giving false hope to the families victim.
     
    "Will the Prime Minister support the need for an enquiry into the behaviour of newspapers?" Asked the opposition leader. You know, wotisname.
     
    "Yes," Replied our Prime Minister with a slight pause as he thought of an answer, "We do support the idea of an enquiry into newspape ethics, but we must enquire into how to do this properly."
     
    The leader of the opposition is claiming this enquiry is what the people of Britain want. I'm suprised anyone has managed to find that out.
     
    Hurry Up Caldrail
    "Look at this!" Enthused the television weatherman. He must be one of the customers in that super-happy bank. However the source of his enthusiasm is an assault upon England by rainclouds invading our sies from the southwest. Cornwall and Devon are already conquered. The sky might be blue right now, but we've had two heavy showers today already. Those clouds hanging over west swindon are dark, threatening, and heading my way.
     
    Does the Prime Minister support the need for an enquiry into the shocking state of our British weather? Does he not realise that British people want sunshine? Why is the government not taking action on this issue? This is yet another example of how our political system is failing the people of Britain.
     
    Hey - I could be an MP. Vote Caldrail. Before I get wet.
  2. caldrail
    The agency had booked me for a very early start at a warehouse an hours walk away. At that time of night the streets of Swindon are usually empty, perhaps just an occaisional drunken bellow from some unseen club-goer bumping into pavements, or more usually, a passing car taking less inebriated club-goers home.
     
    And so it was quiet. All of a sudden a white BMW blasted past me, almost out of nowhere. I have no idea what speed the driver was doing but it was seriously over the top. It was so fast, the engine so aggressively snarling, that the effect was startling. it actually felt like violence. I've never experienced that sensation before, and I'm well acquainted with fast cars.
     
    Later on I passed an industrial estate and experienced a bright flash. What the....? My first impression was that someone had taken a [photo in the night, but there was no-one about. How odd. No matter. Anyway I arrived at work and being sociable I began chatting to my boss about idiot BMW drivers attempting to break the land speed record in town streets. He interrupted me as I began and said "You're going to tell me about a bright light?"
     
    No I wasn't, but it turned out that his colleague had seen it too. The whole sky lit up for a moment./ Some of my fellow workers saw it as well, one describing it as 'Seriously weird'.. As we worked through the small hours of the morning there were some news report over the radio - always impossible to hear properly when lorries are reversing in and out of the premises and sweaty blokes pushing parcels of all sorts here and there. Eventually we found out that it was an atmospheric disturbance and nothing to worry about. Not the North Koreans then. Oh good.
     
    Foxenders
    Almost every night there's been life's little dramas played out among the fox population. Urban foxes are pests, certainly, but I can't help watching their activities with some casual interest. They all have names now. Ferdinand, the big male, is unusual in that he just isn't fazed by human beings - I've walked past him within feet before now.. He's potentially dangerous. Having kept a low profile since Christmas I had thought he was dead and gone, but no, I spotted him, glaring at me in the dark as he always does. Only the other night I incurred his displeasure by disturbing him as he was getting it orn with his chosen vixen, who ran off when I strode into view. Ferdinand stayed put and glared at me.
     
    Fuzzy always retreats in the direction of his set when he gets disturbed. He was injured and limping not so long ago - I haven't seen him since. Ferkles simply moves on and knows that once he's inside another persons garden, pursuit is unlikely. Flakey is well funny. Always going into a panic when disturbed and never knowing which way to turn. Then there's Frodo, with his distinctive black ring on his tail and a penchant for disappearing much sooner than most foxes who see you coming. Lately Frodo has found himself a girlfriend and he's become positively careless. You can actually see a dazed grin on his face. Bless.
     
    I have heard it said that foxes kill and eat cats. I don't believe that, or at least, consider it unusual. Reason being of course is that I see foxes and cats co-existing quite comfortably. The other night I disturbed one fox - Ferkles I think - and as it ran off to a safe distance it passed a cat sat on the pavement. The cat simply watched it run past and didn't stir. Didn't even tense up nervously like cats do if they perceive danger. A cat who knows foxes won't bother him.
  3. caldrail

    Things To Shout About

    By caldrail,

    'Twas a cold and eerie night. I looked out the back window in the early hours and a dark open sky seemed to be relatively shy of revealing stars. Down in the valley, the urban spawl was in the clutches of a thick mist, glowing a dull orange from the street lights. It looked very gothic and mysterious, and without the usual soundtrack of traffic light grand-prix's, arguments with windows and lamp posts, or the salute to football team affiliation in song, the mood was perfect.
     
    So I went to bed, safe in the knowledge that it was unlikely anyone was going to try and steal my car again, or that the neighbours would have a late night argument just to round off the evening. Swindon was strangely quiet when in fact, we do have a couple of things to shout about...
     
    He Who Monopolises Wins
    Another series of The Apprentice is due on our screens. After seeing the hapless antics of supposedly high flying success stories I have to wonder how people have the sheer gall to announce themselves as the best businessperson since sliced bread, but that's the point of the show isn't it? If they were all organised and perfect there wouldn't be any entertainment.
     
    The reason I mention it is that Swindon has an entrant. Despite a publicity photograph that makes the young lad look five months pregnant, he claims to be ruthless at playing Monopoly. Well, I guess that qualifies him for a six figure contract, doesn't it? Judging from the photo he also needs sunlight desperately. A visit to London will do him good. Bless.
     
    At a tender age of twenty two young Mister Raleigh Addington claims he's also the best salesmen around. Call me a doubting Thomas if you will, but what has he sold, exactly? A few cards on a board game? I have a sneeking suspicion that Newcastle has enough coal, the arabs have enough oil, and that eventually Sir Alan will have enough of his boasting and fire him for having a wiltshire accent and a dodgy haircut.
     
    I know, it's easy to poke fun and criticise, but if you want to go on television and make a name for yourself in the public eye that goes with the territory. A part of me wishes him well in his forthcoming efforts to reduce Sir Alan to apoplexy, and let's face it, you just know he's going to be an excruciatingly hopeless entrant who blames everyone else. We'll see.
     
    A Third Place For Swindon
    Another Swindoner is in the news. Good grief, whatever next? Anyone would think this was a happening town. This chap is a balloonist, and narrowly lost the World Championship for long distance ballooning. Apparently they get one fill-up of hydrogen and away they go, letting gas out to descend, and throwing ballast over the side to ascend, in true Phileas Fogg fashion.
     
    In fairness, although our lads didn't go round the world in eighty days, they managed to drop litter from a height across Europe and finally came down in Serbia, and I wish Mr Hempleman Adams and his team mate my hearty congratulations for at least trying.
  4. caldrail
    Whether I like it or not, the festive season is behind me and so I must gird my loins and return to the quest for gainful employment. Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only claimant actually looking for work. The day before the programme centre closed for christmas I was the only one there. Apart from two of the ladies, who apparently volunteered to man the desks while I was busy jobsearching. Luckily I'd forgotten my aftershave - I was outnumbered. But as it happens they made it known they were closing early. I'm sure there was a good reason.
     
    Now it's the new year and off to the job club I go. Other than myself, only one claimant made a new years resolution to look for work. She was probably doing better than me. Tired and bleary eyed after the festive season, I found it hard to concentrate. So badly was I doing that my cries of frustration were answered by "You only need to ask if you want help" from the guy running the clubs computers.
     
    What cheek! I'm a capable computer peripheral I'll have you know - though in fairness, I think the other claimant, a novice computer user more used to dragging her kids away from these infernal calculating machines, was having an easier time of it. I have a sneaking suspicion she had a better christmas than me too.
     
    Wet
    It may not have been quite the savage weather that brought Scotland to a standstill just before christmas, but yesterday the rain was out to get me. Luckily I made it to the library before it went from threatening drops to full deluge.
     
    I've also made the interesting discovery that my home isn't as waterproof as I imagined. Is that why my toes feel cold and wet? Yup. Free standing water. That can mean only one thing. It was time to plug the leak before my house sank. No need to panic. I knew I was in no real danger. You see, there was no threat of divine wrath or advice on building boats delivered by shafts of golden light.
     
    Things We Cannot Know
    By chance I happened to pick up a book on philosophy while waiting at the library for the youngster to stop downloading free music. Now I wouldn't ordinarily bother reading up on philosophy, but who could resist a book entitled "Things We Cannot Know"? It turns out that there's no logical reason to believe the brain exists. After years of living in Swindon I'm tempted to agree, though I think there's one or two books on human anatomy that mention the mythical grey matter.
     
    Ahh well. Time to pop down to the supermarket.... Oh.... Still raining.... Heavy rain and really strong winds too.... I wonder if I can make it to the supermarket without getting wet? Right, here we go.
  5. caldrail
    Hot... Too hot... Music being played in the park....
     
    Oh stuff it. I can't be bothered to type anything out. Sunshine does this to the british. My genetic compulsion to laze immobile whilst being slowly cooked is too strong to resist. Bye for now. See ya tomorrow or something...
  6. caldrail
    Ladies, Gentelemen, and Swindon Residents, I have gathered you here on the Blog Express to inform you that something terrible has happened. First, let us look at the clues.
     
    Clue No1 - We've run out of August.
     
    Clue No2 - All the librarians are telling us how much they enjoyed their summer holiday.
     
    Clue No3 - An increasingly blustery wind.
     
    Clue No4 - Weather forecasts predicting heavy rain on a regular basis.
     
    Clue No5 - Slightly shorter days and less urge to get out of bed.
     
    Clue No6 - Brown leaves on the ground, or at least they are when the wind stops blustering.
     
    Clue No7 - A sudden absence of children.
     
    Clue No8 - Water dribbling down the windows in huge bucketloads.
     
    You see? The facts are incontestable. We are into September, leading to a possible Autumn at any moment. One of you already knows this. That person is the guilty party, and will soon be uncovered.
     
    The Alleyway Uncovered
    One of Swindon's ancient monuments, the long lost alleyway, has been uncovered and restored to its former glory. It really does make quite a change to be able to see along its length from my back window. All due credit to local residents for taking the time and trouble to clear away the jungle and all the remnants of former civilisations left lying along it, but sadly, they didn't find my stolen Eunos cabriolet.
     
    Ostrich Alert
    We in the west sometimes find eastern europe as colorful or even bizarre in some cases. Michael Palin delighted in pointing at oddities in his series about europe, popping here and there to film some arcane gathering in the mountains or heavy metal singers married to princesses, and so forth. We regularly get odd news items about Russia's Vladimir Putin, the ex-KGB man who turned underwater martial arts archaeologist besides running the country.
     
    Russia has outdone itself. I see a news item telling the russian people to watch out for a dangerous albino ostrich. Obviously a KGB experiment from the Cold War Era that has gone horribly wrong.
     
    That said, a few years ago (before my cars were vandalised or stolen) I popped down to a local wildlife park and wandered around enjoying the sight of exotic animals like anyone else would. It's a shame that these animals are contained in secure accomodation, but I guess leopards let loose might be a bit more dangerous than a few urban foxes. And it must be said, with animals in the wild under pressure, at least these zoos and parks help keep species alive.
     
    Then I got to the ostrich field. Immediately one bird, a massive flightless bruiser of an ostrich, took an instant dislike to me and waited for the fence to go away so it could chase me. See what I mean? Sometimes fences aren't so bad. Luckily for me this ostrich wasn't a super-intelligent highly trained KGB agent, so it merely made loud noises and looked very scary.
     
    And The Guilty Party Is?
    Well actually I'm not sure. It is remotely possible that the escaped russian ostrich has infiltrated a weather control station in the arctic circle and is currently holding the world to ransom for huge sums of money and a mountain top palace to protect it from the floods it intends to release on mankind.
     
    I am obliged of course to suggest that the CIA are responsible. Obviously it's some insidious plot with no clear or sensible motive, but generally speaking, the CIA accusers aren't clear or sensible either.
     
    Then again, it might be an attempt by the british government to persuade foreign nationals that illegal immigration to Britain is not going to be the warm hearted and bountiful experience they thought it would be. When you consider the dusty war-torn places they leave behind, it's no wonder our weather does its best each year to dissuade them. You see, that's why we have weather reports. Everyone knows it rains in England. Where's the need to be told about it?
     
    So my advice is watch out for albino ostriches claiming to be umbrella salesmen sneaking into the country. After all, they have reinforcements waiting at a wildlife park near where I live. At last we discover the real truth of 2012. Forget aliens, natural catastrophes, astronomical events, or the wrath of god. Next year ostriches take over the world.
     
    I would welcome my new feathered masters on the grounds they could hardly do worse than our democratically elected leaders but unfortunately they don't seem to like me very much.
  7. caldrail

    This Means War!

    By caldrail,

    I've decided to document a campaign of Total War: Rome. For those who were born yesterday, it's a computer game that came out in 2004, and quite a good one as far as games go. Not every day of course, I have better things to do than to play imaginary battles, though in fairness I've done quite a lot of that in one way or another over the years.
     
    The year is 270BC, and I play the Scipii, a powerful and ambitious Roman faction in the great struggle for dominance to come. They come in a fetching shade of blue tunics too.
  8. caldrail

    Thou Will Be Silent

    By caldrail,

    Many many years ago in that Jurassic era I call my childhood, I sometimes made a journey across the countryside to Lydiard Park. Back then West Swindon didn't exist. Just abandoned railway yards, farmland, and overgrown flak emplacements from WW2. I always remember passing through a village on the way where beside the road was a brake of trees that never seemed to grow any leaves, just existing as towering stalks of dark grey, always surrounded by flocks of crows that made the most unholy noise.
     
    Of course now the village is absorbed into West Swindon and the unholy noise is made by late night drunkards. The crows have gone. Maybe that's because they had more sense than to stay. After all, crows and ravens are very clever birds.
     
    I've seen a video clip of a crow using its puzzle solving abilities. Within seconds it retrieved a little metal basket full of food from an upright plastic cylinder by using a small metal rod with a hook at one end. I have to say, it was a very impressive display of animal intelligence.
     
    A few weeks ago I was taking a shortcut through my local park. Normally it's quiet, a useful quality for a remembrance garden, but on this occaision four crows were having a bit of a tiff. They flapped their wings ceaselessly, hopped from branch to branch in some avian parody of martial arts fighters, going at each other hammer and tongs.
     
    I can't remember what I said. Something like "Oh shut up" as I remember, and whaddya know? The crows stopped making noises, stopped moving, and the garden returned to its normal peaceful condition. Thank you.
     
    So there you have it. Crows and ravens are not only quite intelligent, but very polite too. Don't know where they learned that from. It clearly wasn't the average Swindon youth.
     
    Sermon Of The Week
    I lost my temper. I really did. There I was, minding my own business as I strode homeward, when I encountered those pesky christian preachers. As they often do, one bellowed praise of Jesus and excerpts from his best seller whilst his mate handed out little cards with his phone number on them.
     
    Out of the corner of my eye I couldn't help spotting his approach (the card distributor, not Jesus), grinning like a cheshire cat and determined to intercept me. That was when I lost my temper. "How many times do you have to be told NO!" I barked at him. Poor bloke. He backed off ever so quickly. He wasn't in much danger of course - a policeman was but yards away chatting to a member of the public and must of heard me explode. Funnily enough the preacher stopped shouting too.
  9. caldrail

    Thoughts

    By caldrail,

    Not to be outdone by the recent weather in California, a dramatic if understated outburst of dampness took place yesterday afternoon. Our first rain in ages! A very light and persistent drizzle that was a refreshing change from all the good weather we've been... What am I saying? One benefit of the lightly damp evening was an absence of late night revellers entertaining us with drinking songs and impromptu boxing matches, but very considerately the local police prevented us from boredom by passing my house sounding their siren. Okay, you got a mention. Can I go back to sleep now?
     
    And what happened to that unseasonal warm weather we were promised? It might not be actually chilly out there, but it ain't exactly warm. Today is one of those indifferent days. A carpet of lumpy white and grey cloud obscures the sky yet fails to completely douse the sunshine. This is a day to do stuff, life all those outside repair jobs for instance, rather than incinerate burgers on a barbeque on the back lawn. Not to worry, burgers are apparently poisonous, and if you thought salad was good for you...
     
    Eating Is Bad For You
    After all the health scares about what we eat I couldn't help noticing the news that an elderly Indian man is being studied after claiming he's gone the last seventy years without food and drink, relying on meditation. It does sort of beggar belief that you get around bilogical requirements simply by thinking about it, but I also sort of think maybe he needs to get out a little more. Life without good food? Unthinkable. Life without cider? I cannot comprehend the merest possibility of speculation on how awful that would be. On the other hand, with food prices going up, he gets to live pretty darn cheaply. What to do? Decisions, decisions... No, I have to think about that a bit more.
     
    Thinking About The Sales Pitch
    The last of the televised debates between the three top contenders for the general election due in a weeks time has been aired. As someone who didn't bother watching any of them, why were three programs needed? Surely one big bust-up was more than adequate? The reports I've seen in the media are pretty much what you'd expect. Nick Clegg of the Liberal Democrats wants us to know that they have policies. Gordon Brown of the Labour Party wants us to know that they haven't. David Cameron wants us to know that he he has lots of policies and hopes to have them thought out by the time we elect him. A pretty typcial election then.
     
    Of course being politicians all the "We're here to help you" speeches don't cut much ice with pessimistic potential voters like me. If everybody had delivered on their promises before I'd be blissfully happy owning my own home in a pedestrianised paradise where poverty, ignorance, and hospital waiting lists are a thing of the past. If you think about it, how much of these messianic political squabbles we get every few years actually make any difference? Labour have already proved we're voting them into office to get rich even quicker. Shall I vote? Or not?
     
    Truth is none of them seem particularly impressive specimens right now.
     
    Other People Thinking About Things
    NASA are considering which of their 28 missions to discover life on other planets should go ahead. A little tip gentlemen. Cancel the Swindon mission. Just thought I'd save you some expensive disappointment.
  10. caldrail
    Yesterday there were three women in my life. Now before you mock or pour scorn on that innocent statement, sex was not involved... Now before you click onto another webpage is bored disillusionment and contempt at my failure to have wild passionate sex at every possible opportunity and boast about it afterward, I would like to point out that it is possible to have a warm, fulfilling, rewarding, platonic relationship with the opposite sex. It's just a little less expensive and genuinely less exciting.
     
    It goes a bit like this. The first lady I ecountered yesterday was at the Job Centre. She very kindly went to get another jobsearch booklet for me and smiled sweetly when I thanked her and left. She didn't try to chat me up, or fish for compliments, or even attempt to get a date from me. And you're disappointed?
     
    The second woman in my life was a dog owner I encountered in Lawns Wood, by the bottom lake. Her dog had decided to go for the World Canine Endurance Swimming Record (I was a witness, Guiness Book Of Records please note) and paddled furiously after a flock of ducks calmly swimming away in no great urgency to avoid a homicidal (should that be duckacidal?) dog in the water.
     
    I have never seen a dog so deliriously happy at swimming. It was literally wagging it's tail as it swam, and every time the owner called to her dog to please come back to dry land it turned the other way and made another fruitless attempt on duck's lives. I had a little chat to the lady whilst she waited for her dog to get tired.
     
    Oh come on. You really think the dog was going to listen to me?
     
    The third woman was a fresh faced young lass newly arrived from Birmingham in a vain attempt to get me to sign up for charitable contributions for deaf kids. A worthy cause, but since I live on charity for the time being, I couldn't help her. She had come a long way for that conversation on my doorstep so we had a pleasant little chat before she realised she had thirty seven other addresses to cover that evening.
     
    Now some of you might believe I missed some opportunities in these encounters. Possibly. But then again, I hadn't shaved. Without those expensive gel bottles and those curiously effete body sprays I was helplessly unsexy, a fact made worse because I don't own or use the latest top secret razor, with sixteen cutting edges and microchip terrain following radar.
     
    Never mind because...
     
    Revelation about the Secret Life of Caldrail (of the week)
    Sorry, not telling you. It's a secret.
  11. caldrail
    My first clue to the importance of the day was spotting the library security guard. He's a portly chap, walking with a pronounced sway, sort of like an oversized chimp. He was carrying a bunch of flowers. Never in my life have I seen him look so incongruous. I couldn't help asking him if this was part of his usual duties. He chuckled, but I think what he really wanted to do was punch my lights out.
     
    Later I went to the library for my daily dose of internet goodness. What is going on? The interior of the building was festooned with white balloons. Library staff in gothic and dickensian dress. Pretty normal day then? I asked one librarian, a woman whose normal seriousness was replaced by a bizzare black and white wig, what was going on? She smiled. Ye gods, she is a human being after all!
     
    It seems the Library is a year old. I heard the Mayor of Swindon and his retinue making a speech downstairs followed by polite applause. Everyone else sat slack jawed as they played card games on their computer screens. How time flies when you're having fun.
     
    Baby Fair
    Walking through town yesterday afternoon I was noticed by a pair of young mothers and their ubiquitous baby buggies. One turned to the other and made a scornful comment amount my credibility as a sharp dressed man. Well, at least she was discrete about it, and in all honesty, I wasn't overly bothered. I've heard worse. Mind you, her bog standard unmarried-mother-of-one uniform could do with a makeover. So could her ridiculously crinkled offspring. Then again, the child was behaving itself.
     
    A little further on a young girl, maybe five or six years old, lay on the pavement screaming purple-faced at her mother to pick her up, as her parent shook her head in amused non-compliance at her childs very explicit command. The little girl kept on screaming. I hope those tantrums get sorted because otherwise she is going to grow up an unbearably spoilt bossyboots. Like she is now, but driving a BMW to the schedule on her laptop.
     
    It so happened I spotted an advert pasted on the plywood protection on abandoned shops. Baby Fair. This Friday. What on earth is that all about? Buggy races? Sponsored potty training? Screaming contests? Not that I'm worried. I won't be allowed entry on account of being more than two feet tall. Or is this fair something more commercial? I can imagine a dampened street, wooden racks with canvas shelters overhead, and lines of bemused infants making random limb movements. A grizzled old babymonger shouting his sales pitch to the passing throngs.
     
    "Babies for sale! Get-cha babies here! Two and six a dozen! 'Owbout you Sir? Present for the missus. She'll love this bundle of fun. Quality babies... You can't get these at Harrads... Prices so low I'm almost givin' 'em away. And you madam? Come on, don't be shy..."
     
    Cloudscape of the Week
    From the second floor lounge of the library I get a good view over Regents Circus, a connecting road in central Swindon. Better still, there's little to impede the view of the sky. Today is another grey and indifferent vista of mediocre clouds hiding the sun, with the sky turned white by icy layers high above. Yesterday was completely different, one of those uncertain days of sunshine and showers. The sky was blue with a faded pastel grey layer, and tall bulges of cumulus lit in deep contrast by the late afternoon sun, and together with their dark ragged satellites drifted menacingly by. A bright rainbow arched across in front of the scene. It was genuinely beautiful to see.
     
  12. caldrail

    Thunder

    By caldrail,

    Yesterday I was slightly greener than the day before. Nothing to do with imminent nausea, or envy at the Maserati that drives down the hill every morning, but compliance with the detailed instructions our eco-friendly ex-government foisted on us. Now that I can't simply leave unwanted bottles for the dustmen to collect, I must dispose of them responsibly myself.
     
    My old kitbag was bulging with unwanted glass, making dull chinking noises as I walked down the hill toward the car park where I knew the recycling bins had been stationed. When I got there, the bins were absent. Brilliant. Well I can't just leave the bottles there by the side of the car park however tempted I might be. This is an act of responsibility for crying out loud.
     
    Eventually I found a line of large bins for waste disposal by a small car park in Old Town. I was delayed in my task by TB, my former employment trainer, who was on her cigarette break, so I wandered over to say hello. Her colleagues ran away as I approached. What? Did I forget to remove the bolts from my neck? Luckily TB is made of sterner stuff and we had a pleasant chinwag for ten minutes, halted only by her desperate need to retain her job.
     
    Thing is though, although the weather was supposed to be boiling hot this weekend, it never really got there, and yesterday was a typical damp Swindon day. It was however very humid, so as I stood chatting to TB I was forever wiping sweat away. Now they're telling us the jetstream is about to deliver prolongued low pressure across Britain, and that can only mean more damp weather. It's drizzling heavily as I speak. Worse still, they're forecasting thunderstorms later this week.
     
    With energy bills soaring I'm tempted to rig a lightning conductor and get free electricity for a couple of seconds. Why waste thousands of volts? I'm not sure that's going to turn me green as such, and remember kids, don't do that at home.
     
    God Of Thunder
    We British are pleased to announce the latest word in remote control military aerial drones, the Taranis (named after a celtic god of thunder). Apparently this aeroplane is capable of crossing continents without detection by radar. It is virtually invisible. All for a low low price of
  13. caldrail

    Thunder & Roars

    By caldrail,

    I'm not by nature a couch potato, but let's face it, every so often the urge to sit slack-jawed in front of a television gets the better of us. By saturday night, I too was in couch potato mode. Even the energy drink I was sipping from made no difference. I just couldn't be bothered.
     
    The trouble with television on a saturday night is that it seems to be designed for people who have embarrasingly low IQ scores or lack the skills to socialise. It's almost as if media companies don't want people to sit in on a saturday night, because they then have to pay staff to maintain services who would rather be out socialising than catering for couch potatoes. Hey, I pay for thuis service, you know?
     
    Enough of my griping. Eventually I settled on watching the news channel. That was about the only thing worth watching. A general tells us that the campaign in Libya has achievable goals... Glad to hear that. It's rather an expensive way to give pilots some target practice. Then there's news of more trouble in Syria.... It's a wonder we're not bombing them too. Oh... I forgot... Defence cuts.
     
    Then we got to the weather report. heat wave? What heat wave? The cheery fellow pointed at the map to red circles with absurdly high temperatures. What on earth is going on?
     
    Sunday morning I found out. Leaving the house mid-morning I walked into a wall of hot air. It was baking hot out there. This morning is no different. Baking hot out there still. However, the news is that this sudden burst of tropical temperatures is about to come crashing to an end with thunderstorms predicted for tonight and tomorrow. I 'll bet the weatherman is smiling about that too.
     
    Man Fights Lion
    I've just watched a video of a man getting into a cage and attempting to take on a fully grown male lion in a large cage, while members of the public look on. He went in with shield and staff, poking the lion, who was clearly more interested in a siesta than ripping this idiot apart. Nonetheless, the prodding did upset the lion a tad. Well it would, wouldn't it?
     
    As it happens the irritated lion tried to paw the mans stave away and stayed in the corner where it wanted a kip. I have to say, as beast fights go, the Romans were somewhat better at it. But then again, they didn't have to contend with animal rights groups.
     
    Fact is though this was more of a political stunt, and if I were honest, treating a lion in this manner isn't really what I want to see. Do I think highly of the man for braving the threat of an angry wild cat, a ferocious heavyweight lion? No, not really. After all, following the video of an infant giggling by a glass window as a lionness tried to attack him from the other side, it all seems very much part of the human condition.
     
    That said, the urge to grab a sword and take on the local ginger tom doesn't manifest itself either.
  14. caldrail
    With a sigh I switched my computor off yesterday afternoon. Nothing to do with recalcitrant programs, impossibly tough game levels, or yet more analysis of the Tottenham Riots. It was the approach of the thunderstorm. In my experience, thunder and lightning invariably causes a blip in the electricity supply when it hits the pylons that criss-cross our local area, and that can spoil your whole day when your data vanishes into digital smoke.
     
    So I retreated to my favourite seat with a good book. Sure enough the daylight dimmed ominously, and distant rumbles were audible over the traffic rushing up and down the hill. Then the rain began. A heavy downpour that sent pedestrians running for any available cover. hardly anyone expected rainfall and in the summer clothes they were drenched in seconds.
     
    Not me. This time I'm safely esconsed indoors. Just as well too, because all of a sudden was a bright flash. usually in Britain we get "cloudstrikes", where bursts of lightning travel in the sky and merely light up the clouds briefly. That wasn't anything of the sort. We were getting ground strikes, and that means a serious stormcloud was overhead.
     
    The thunder rattled the window next to me. I thought I might try and get a photo out the back window of the house. Why not? It might be an interesting experiemnt to photograph heavy rain and who knows? Maybe I'll catch a lightning fork by good fortune. Where's my camera?... Oh, there it is. Batteries are still good... Right. Open the window and... Oh ye gods!
     
    The rain pelted through the narrow gap I'd opened. It was like being on a ship in an atlantic squall where a sailor foolishly opens a porthole and gets a faceful of seawater for his trouble. Quick, close the window... Close the window... Phew. Please excuse me while I go and dry myself off.
     
    Brake Brake Brake!
    After the storm passed I sat watching the Touring Car racing at Snetterton. It goes on all afternoon with various races in different classes. Much more interesting than the Formula One Circus. Here we get cars jostling for space in a frantic rush to sneak past the other guy. it's raw, down to earth racing, and I love it.
     
    I was watching the Ginetta Juniors race. Teenagers learning how to drive performance cars in competition. They race every bit as savagely as their seniors, and not without some skill and talent either. Then a drama unfolded. A bunch of cars approached a sharp bend at speed. The lead car suddenly locked its brakes with smoke and tires squealing, then spun off gently as it tried to enter the curve.
     
    Hilariously the two commentators began to get excited and ask each other what happend. What went wrong there? They came out with all kinds of theories, but to me, it was blindlingly obvious. The lead car had approached on the inside to cut off the others, braked late to try and stay in front, realising at the last minute he was running out of room, and with wheels locked turned too sharply into the bend with too much speed carried forward and no grip. Result? The car flicked round and carried on its merry across the track sideways.. No... Backwards... No, sideways again...
     
    He should have slowed down and accepted he was going to contest that corner with the other cars, or as an alternative, go wider and hope the extra speed would keep him ahead of any car trying to cut inside him. But I guess he's probably figured that out for himself at his leisure as a stream of cars whizz past him.
     
    Could I do any better? Well, I don't actually know, but if my gaming experience is anything to go by, I'd probably be sat on the grass in a thunderous mood too.
  15. caldrail

    Thunderbirds Are Go!

    By caldrail,

    Some of you might have seen Thunderbirds, that wonderful 60's puppet series by Gerry Andersen. Every episode some daring engineering achievement goes horribly wrong, and our square jawed lads from a pacific island rush into action with their futuristic machinery to rescue everyone from the explosions guaranteed in the final moments. Well then. Sit back, switch the TV on, and watch as the Warehouse bring in our new office.
     
    As forklifts go, this one is pretty big. It dwarfs the cabin resting on its forks as it edges slowly in through the doors. Cue dramatic music - Oh no! They've broken a window! And the cabin is too small! Its all going horribly wrong!!
     
    So faster than Clint Eastwood in a gunfight, our man on the spot, AD, brings out his mobile phone. The message is picked up aboard the space station (where that strangely solitary man sits there listening to everyone speaking on the airwaves just in case there's a chance for another episode), and another message beamed to International Portakabins. Cue Portakabins Theme Tune. Workers descend through the floor of their rest areas, others slide down chutes behind the office walls, and trees bend over as the supersonic articulated truck trundles toward the main road, carrying a plush cabin of monstrous size for those lads in peril in Rushey Platt.
     
    Stay tuned for the finale. Can International Portakabins insert the new office before AD blows his top?
     
    Civic Renewal of the Week
    I passed the Old Collectibles Shop a couple of days ago. In the window is a new display, showing how the Wilts & Berks Canal is to be restored. Built during the Industrial Revolution just before Mr Brunel and his railway navvies turned up in the 1840's, the course of the old canal is now part of a major road system through the town. So, in an effort to beautify the place and provide somewhere to deposit late night drunks and shopping trolleys, not to mention providing an excellent excuse to restrict car traffic in the town centre, the authorities are going to rip up the roads and put a canal back in place. The smart money is on owning an amphibious car. Or can we trust our sat-navs?
  16. caldrail

    Thunderbirds Have Gone!

    By caldrail,

    I strolled into work this morning expecting to have to clear everything away so our new portakabin can be inserted into place. My jaw dropped spellbound as I entered the warehouse. The old cabin, that looked like a refugee from an abandoned railway line, has gone. In its place was a huge palatial (and clean) cabin.
     
    I was so looking forward to watching another foul-up and writing it up in loving exacting detail, but I can't. International Portakabins have arrived in their green articulated truck (the one with a white '2' on the side), done the job, and gone back to their pacific depot.
     
    Our tame forklifter tells me that the old cabin broke another window when they lifted it out. Gerry Anderson usually gave us catastrophic explosions at the end of an episode, but I guess that will have to do.
     
    Shower of the Week
    Sunshine and showers the weather report said. It was raining when I walked to work. It was sunny when I was inside the warehouse. Yep, it rained this afternoon, and guess what? It rained on me as I trudged home. You just can't beat British weather!
  17. caldrail

    Time For Change

    By caldrail,

    Times may be a'changin', but Swindon carries on going its own way. Or is it? Just recently I notied our local HMV store has re-opened after falling victim to the terrible economic Black Death that stalked the towns and cities of England not so long ago. Not only that, but just the other afternoon I spotted the first white metal frames at the Old College site. As if I could miss them. They tower above the surroundings and make the assurances of the developers that the buildings wouldn't be any higher than the yard look like promises made by megalomaniac German dictators not to invade neighbouring countries.
     
    Yes, the Old College is a'changin'. They've stopped shuffling piles of mud, sand, and gravel around and everywhere I see machines and building materials in a chaotic life or death struggle for space. You mean... They're actually going to build it?
     
    Oh Joy
    Not everything changes. The male population of this town still seems to have trouble with orsinary social contact. These days I only have to be caught glancing at some people and I get accused of being a pervert. I had no idea rolling cigarettes was such a private and intimate experience. Perhaps if the gentleman concerned might care to do that in private no-one would notice him. On the other hand, I if walk past minding my own business, I get sarky comments for not being sociable.
     
    It seems the only way to avoid such social difficulties is to walk with your head down looking at a mobile phone. Half the population seem to be dowing that now. Is it just me or am I living in some kind of fifties scifi B movie? Any moment now and I'm going to hear a Tardis appearing with some extrovert idiot waving a sonic screwdriver around. The good Doctor had better watch it though. We have plenty of joy riders in this area...
     
    Foggy Start
    It was foggy this morning. Just thought I'd mention it.
     
    Stain Of The Week
    Every so often I make a vain attempt to take a decent night-time photograph. The results are always blurry and unsatisafying no matter what setting I use, but I try, nonetheless. Anyway with that new frame on the building site and a somewhat misty night, the scene was atmospheric, full of shadow and soft light in amber and pale green.
     
    Having made the effort I stopped to take in the scene properly. The night air had a bite to it, yet without a breath of wind to make it uncomfortable. For a moment I I took it all in then noticed an odd shadow in the yard below me. Is that a fox? It was. Staring up at me as if transfixed by the activities of some idiot human being who really ought to be doing something useful like catching mice or digging nice warm holes. Once the young fox had realised the show was over it got on with being a fox, and incidentially, if you're the owner of a silver hatchback with some mysterious stains on the left hand side, I know who did it.
  18. caldrail
    Ah yes... The scene in Douglas Adams Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy where Ford Prefect entices Arthur Dent away from saving his cottage from demolition and down to the local pub for an emergency last beverage before stowing away on a passing Vogon Destructor Fleet.
     
    For those of you who haven't read my last entry (shame on you), May 21st is Vogon Demolition Day. That's today. yes, it's the end of the world. So I recommend everyone pops down the pub and thumbs for a lift from any UFO's in the neighbourhood. Douglas Adams instructions for survivng the end of the world are quite clear on the procedure.
     
    Mind you, if you haven't made friends with that annoying wierdo over the last few years don't blame me if you can't find a seat to another planet. On the down side, it is a saturday, so getting to the bar might be difficult if you leave it to the last minute. Don't worry about your home. If the Vogons don't obliterate it I'm sure some natural disaster will while you're out, and I do see their are people taking this warning seriously by quitting their jobs in expectation of the final day.
     
    Quite a nice for it, really...
     
    It Is Written
    It's kind of funny how people so easily believe things. Like hordes of Americans fleeing to the hiolls in 1938 because Orson Wells broadcast a version of War of the Worlds on radio.
     
    There are people who believe Dan Browns books are documentaries about real life. Or that a fictional prop is actually the Cup of the Last Supper. Or that Hitler is still alive in Argentina. Or that the CIA are responsible for world terrorism. Or that modern hatchbacks are fun to drive.
     
    We believe these things because we're easily fooled. Not me of course. I'm much more sensible. So if you'll excuse me, I want to get revenge on the world by finding Saurons One Ring from the bottom of the River Danube.
     
    No really. Tolkien based his stories on real life history. No , he did... He really did...
     
    Mind you, given today is Big Earthquake Day (boy, am I going to look dumb if it actually is!), I think I'd better not delay. See you later, hapless minions...
  19. caldrail
    Oh no. Not this episode again! I enjoy a spot of Star Trek in the afternoons when I've nothing better to do ,but some episodes really don't have any lasting appeal. I remember seeing an interview with Jonathon Frakes ('Will Riker' in the Star Trek: Next Generation) in which he extolled the virtues of the genre, and in particular, he stressed the ability of the format to describe moral messages. He might be right, but unfortunately it's exactly those episodes that pall with familiarity.
     
    You see - We humans like to be entertained. We want drama, excitement, suspense, horror, tragedy, and a few laughs along the way. Whilst moral messages are often very clever, meaningful even, they don't entertain. Do I really want to sit through this episode? No. The moral message was taken in the first time I saw it. I hate to admit it, but I really do want something better to do this afternoon.
     
    Down By The Lakeside
    I chose to spend a few hours lounging by the lower lake at Lawns Wood. What is this life if we have no time to stand and stare? So at a quiet and shadey spot I sat down to watch the world swim by. Whenever the sun broke out from behind the heavy cloud, patterns of reflected light played across the underside of the overhanging tree canopy. It makes a fascinating display.
     
    The local birdlife had felt the relaxed mood of the afternoon too. Out on the water, a variety of waterfowl bobbed up and down, their heads resting on their backs. Why is it that so many seabirds are white? Is that some hangover from the Ice Ages? When the entire region was arctic in scope? It's also a strange thought that recent fossil evidence shows many of the birds floating out on the water are the same species that relaxed in the Cretaceous mid-afternoon, swimming alongside Hadrosaurs in the shallow wetlands of low lying regions.
     
    A group of Coots congregated over some morsel. A pair of adventurous and quite fearless ducklings, about half their size, swam across under the watchful gaze of their mother, to grab their share. It was a dead fish, floating on it's side, and despite the attention it received, none of the birds that took an interest seemed to stay long or get any sustenance from it.
     
    Everything changed when two schoolgirls wandered along the path after the school nearby had finished for the day. They were throwing breadcrumbs, and instantly the sleeping birds were alive, rushing for their chance to feed. The little ducklings made frantic efforts to be first in the queue. One duck follows the girls down the path, determined to obtain more than their fair share of bread.
     
    A pair of breeding swans and their retinue of obedient grey cygnets swam slowly by. Swans gllide through the water at a gentle pace, one strong push from their flippers sending them five or six feet forward at a time. Both adults held their wings at the ready. Swams are not easily intimidated and on rare occaisions become violent, easily capable of injuring a human with those powerful wings. So when their family floated past my spot very close, I kept a wary watch on them as they kept an equally wary watch on me.
     
    Not all birds like the company of human beings. Eventually the noise and activity from the shoolgirls was too much for a certain bird to bear. A large grey and white crane burst out of the lakeside foliage not seven or eight feet from where I sat. I hadn't even realised it was there. It flew back along the lake shortly after. What graceful and effortless flyers they are. I can see why the japanese always admired this bird.
     
    I think I made the right choice this afternoon. Sat by the water in relaxed contemplation, all your cares and worries seem trivial. Oh hang on... Somethings coming...
     
    There Goes The Neighbourhood
    By late afternoon the youth element tends to congregate in such public spaces and the mood changes. A group pass by with their 'drug-dealer' dogs, short-faced thick-set animals that burst into my quiet corner of the natural world like brash gatecrashers at a well behaved party. Time to go home. Before those darn dogs gleefully dispose of their load of lakewater all over me.
  20. caldrail

    Tiresome Tuesday

    By caldrail,

    Previously I've mentioned our resident dragon. His party trick of issuing dark smoke from his lungs has got us all curious and earned him the nickname Mistymouth. Today I spotted him on the search for precious stones and knights in armour amongst our boxes, and I decided to confront the creature and demand to know how he breathed fire. I now have the answer, but let's make a quiz of it.
     
    How did Mistymouth breath smoke?
     
    a - A quick, furtive, illegal, and highly dangerous lit cigarette?
     
    b - By living close to the edge of spontaneous combustion?
     
    c - His previous life was as a volcano?
     
    d - A severe case of halitosis?
     
    e - Escape and evasion training when he was with the SAS?
     
    Answer at the bottom of this blog entry.
     
    All In The Name
    Miss A has discovered my blog. Well, okay, almost discovered it. She knows of its existence. However, she's none too impressed about being called Miss A. I guess it sounds too prim and proper for her. So tomorrow she will be renamed in a grand blog ceremony and has been given 24 hours to come up with something she likes or find herself given another moniker by default. That, believe you me, is a tough decision for a young lady whose decision making process involves increasing her phone bill by 200%
     
    Part of the deal for giving her 24 hours to render herself bankrupt was that she revealed the secret nickname the girls call me down on the shop floor. Sorry, but that name remains a secret known only to department store personnel on the grounds that no-one would believe it anyway.
     
    Tough In The Stockroom
    Some people are never grateful. In particular bosses seem to be psychologically unable to comprehend that people are not robots, nor as well paid or swimming in perks as they are.
     
    KS, bless his cotton socks, cleared up the old dungeon at the back of the stockroom today as requested. That was no mean task. Several employees went missing in there some time ago and KS did mention finding some fossils. The thing that gets me though is where did he put all the dust? I mean, if all you do is sweep it to one side with a broom it merely moves from one point on the floor to another. What did he do, suck it all up like a human vacuum cleaner? His life-or-death struggle with dust mites went on unnoticed. Poor lad was moaning about all the dirt encrusted on his hands afterward.
     
    Erm... Just a little helpful hint for anyone that finds themselves with a similar problem... Use some soap and water to wash it off afterward. Most workplaces have facilities that can cope with this demanding task.
     
    I on the other hand rolled up my sleeve and restacked the piles of carboard boxes again. What is it with people there? Is this some sort of party game where you have to turn boxes around so you can't read the reference number? Or is the idea to try and stack boxes in such a way as to defy gravity? Or are they awarded points for stacking in the most sanity-busting original way?
     
    Sadly soap and water didn't cure my problem and instead I had to resort to upper body strength to make the beige wasteland safe for human habitation once more.
     
    You would think our heroic efforts would be appreciated, but no, the boss spotted us standing idle and chatting. Clearly that was all we'd been doing all day and the recriminations began. A special thanks to J for congratulating us on our efforts today and for shielding us from the end of level boss. Tomorrow we progress to the next level of difficulty.
     
    The Quiz Answer
    So what answer did you choose?
     
    If you answered a you have a logical and very suspicious mind. Clearly management potential.
     
    If you answered b you have no idea about reality at all. Clearly management potential.
     
    If you answered c then you obviously hadn't paid any attention to geography at school and must have been more interested in sports which looks very impressive in the hobbies and interests section on your CV. Clearly management potential.
     
    If you answered d you don't know what halitosis is. That must mean that bad breath is a foreign concept to you, and since you clearly belong to life's beautiful people, you are therefore management potential.
     
    If you answered e you have no idea at all about special forces training, or even military studies, and since you must therefore be ignorant of team building skills you're clearly management potential.
     
    If you answered f then pat yourself on the back. Yes, it was just a nicotine-substitute thingy that allows you to smoke safely and healthily without anyone noticing, and since you must be sharp witted, knowledgeable, and aware of current facilities to assist sufferers of cigarette addiction, you clearly have no management potential at all. So go and restack some more boxes. Oh, and make sure you can eat your dinner off that stockroom floor.
  21. caldrail
    I've done it! I've made to the end of the week! Doesn't sound like a particularly brilliant achievement, but with my bedroom temperatures reduced almost to Ice Age conditions, I was starting to worry about becoming extinct. After all, the neanderthals, who were better adpated to the cold than we are, failed miserably to survive their frigid bedrooms at all.
     
    Talking about them, there a new theory why they died off. I've always put it down to old age and poor sex education, but apparently my theories are wildly incorrect, as the equally incorrect theories mention causes as diverse as disease, lack of social skills, arid/frozen conditions during a glaciation, and the nastiness of Homo Sapiens. So basically the neanderthals died out through lack of party invites. I know how they feel.. Erm... Felt.
     
    Now the theory has emerged that neanderthals couldn't run very fast, having shorter legs and less capable ankles. That might explain the insignificant sales of sportswear in that period. Hey, I do my homework.
     
    Slightly Windy
    It's howling a gale out there. hardened sea dogs will no doubt scoff and tell me it's a mere breeze, but blustery it most certainly is. With the wind is a sort of fine spray of rain, leaving the pedestrian refreshed after a hard slog up the pavement facing the oncoming gusts without dampening their spirits.
     
    Good, bracing Swindon weather. Wish you were here.
     
    Global Rollercoaster
    With the debate and lecturing about Global Warming, I notice a sudden blossoming of television programs exploring climate change and in particular, expanding our understanding of changes throughout human prehistory. it seems that occaisionally we suffer 'Heinrich Events', the last of which caused a drop in average temperature of ten degrees in as many years. And it swung the other way when the ice receded.
     
    And we're worried about an average 1 degree rise? We still have another two to go.
  22. caldrail
    It was such a lovely afternoon yesterday that I couldn't help taking a wander around some of our local open spaces. I was in the mood for a break. The aggravations of job searching seem especially aggravating right now, simply because it feels like I'm trying to wade upstream right now. After nearly two decades in warehousing you would think I'd learnt a few things, but apparently job agencies regard me as lacking the necessary experience. Pardon?
     
    Anyway, that's enough of a gripe. The weather was fine and a cool breeze made it very pleasant indeed. Maybe it's just as well I took advantage of the sun. Apparently the weather is to return to standard british format by friday (which for those of you who aren't acquainted with England, that means rain).
     
    Swindon Indiana
    Sometimes I get bizarre offers of employment. There' a job for
  23. caldrail

    To The Max

    By caldrail,

    Health issues are very much in my mind right now. As if the dust at work wasn't provoking enough coughing, I seem unable to completely shake off symptoms of a bad cold. The lads I work with now expect me to break out the Lemsip. Hard Hat, my Jamaican colleague, sometimes offers a can of energy drink when I look especially tired. That weary demeanour hasn't escaped the attention of other colleagues either. But, if I don't stay, I get no pay, so to quote from an old Red Jasper song, I'll carry on "Crawling into work". Cough splutter.
     
    One chap on another shift might not be working there much longer. Carelessly he left a packet of cigarettes in the toilet. Worse still, a small supply of drugs was secreted within it. There's been quite a flurry of activity over that mistake and no shortage of gossip. I say bring in Sherlock Holmes to work the Case of the Discarded Fag Packet. But of course, we all know it was Colonel Mustard with a lead pipe.
     
    Max Power
    Time to go home, so I tramp tired and weary up the road to the bus stop. Sometimes you see the same old regulars waiting in the cold for bus rides somewhere close to home, sometimes you get occaisional adventurers out for a double decker thrill. As we mere mortals wait, those blessed with vehicles demonstrate their superior social status by blasting past at high revs, sort of like beating their chests but faster. Naturally that stirs discussion among the young lads, and once fast cars become the topic of the night, everyone taks about their own machines, always chipped, tuned, and stage three everything. They boast earnestly about how their car's capabilities allow them to ignore common sense and the laws of physics.
     
    Come on guys, I was young once. Who are you trying to kid? On the money we get paid affording hyped up cars really isn't realistic. Sure, I've done my fair share of speedy driving - we human beings have a strange fascination with going faster than anyone else unless it's do to with working for a living - but at least I showed some restraint if conditions weren't suitable. I was, after all, only ever caught speeding once. But those modified and lowered shopping trolleys roaring past the bus stop are probably no faster than the version their granny bought from the dealer, although I will concede, the idea of an eighty year old woman hurtling down the road, aggressively using her horn to persuade those youngsters to stop obstructing the road, and challenging their Women's Institute colleages to traffic light drag races is just bizarre.
     
    Max Canyon
    Thee's been a series of adverts on television for a breakfast cereal in which the fictional survival expert 'Max Canyon', is about to demonstrate a source of protein, if only you had the guts the try it, only to hesistate when his camera crew tuck in to a healthy bowl of something more palatable.
     
    Exotic game meat has become available at my local supermarket. At least that saves me the bother of travelling to faraway places to find something different to eat. I must admit to a vicarious interest in consuming animals simply because I haven't consumed them before. Wild boar sausages were quite good, ostrich burgers perhaps a bit bland but they never taste quite as you expect, or at least, until you try crocodile. A pair of crocodile burgers looked suspiciously like gammon and funnily enough didn't taste much different. However, I didn't take to it and I now understand why they're survivors of a lost era. They're just not pleasant to eat.
     
    Having seen the first series of The Mighty Boosh, the prosect of consuming kangaroo meatballs are challenging my determination. Breakfast cereal it is then.
     
    Philosophy of the Week
    The site manager at work has been spending time on the shop floor and needless to say has left havoc in his wake. Especially for me, as it happens, because his expert eye has detected that our rubbish exraction system isn't making enough profit. Now I'm told off if I try to obtain some means of dropping off the rubbish I collect, and told off if I leave it lying. Never have I seen a warehouse that generates such amounts of rubbish. Cardboard, shrinkwrap, paper, cans, bottles, packets, shards of wood, it's all out there, until we wave a magic wand and make it all disappear like the site manager wants.
     
    Naturally the presence of senior management is intimidating for some. He is, after all, a pretty decisive guy. He doesn't have much time for practicality or any input from me about the realities of warehouse waste management when profit margins are too small. Hard Hat has other ideas. "A man is just a man" He says in terms of true equality. Yes, I agree, but we can't sack people. He can.
     
    On the plus side we can only hope that he accidentially left a cigratte packet in the toilet and we can go back to making the warehouse look respectfully tidy.
  24. caldrail
    I have no idea who rang the doorbell this morning but thank you anyway. There I was, snoozing away,, lost in a land of sheep and... Well, dreams... When I heard the frantic attempts to attract someones (anyones) attention out in the street. Ohmigosh! It's daylight outside! I've slept in!
     
    By the time I'd wearily fallen out of bed I remembered this was indeed saturday and I wasn't late for work. I hate to say it, but I'm almost rehabilitated. Heck, I'm turning into a mature responsible adult.
     
    It's a nice day. It really is. The sun is shining, the recent rain has gone away, the air has a fresh coolness, birds are singing, library goers are chatting in unrestrained joy at being alive. Quiet please. This is a library you know. Except the new librarian on duty, a freckle faced youngster, sits reading a paper in slack jawed innocence of the need to keep everyone silent. What is the world coming to?
     
    Saturday Morning Quiz
    I don't know if my gerbil pills are doing strange things to my brain, or if something dubious is wafting around the air conditioning system in the stockroom, but there's a perceptual dimension to being up there all day that does strange things to your senses. It could just be Mistymouth's exhaled smoke of course as his description of the strange potion he's using to create that smoke hasn't convinced anyone.
     
    Since I've rushed into the library this morning without a chance to experience life and report on a days activity, here's a saturday morning quiz to fill in the blank and keep you blog addicts mentally fit and stable.
     
    Question 1 - Why did Mistymouth announce I was in charge in the stockroom?
    a - I threatened to beat him up if he didn't
    b - A senior executive of Department Stores Ltd told him I was
    c - I looked like Gandalf
    d - I resemble Rod Stewart
     
    Question 2 - Who wrote 'Banksy' in large letters on a cardboard box?
    a - Rampant Rabbit
    b - Happy Robot
    c - Alice The Ghost
    d - The Weekend Workers Committee
     
    Question 3 - Who switched off the lights?
    a - The Rack Fairy
    b - Me
    c - KS
    d - Miss T did it in a wanton display of malicious tomfoolery
     
    Question 4 - Who is KS dating at the moment?
    a - No-one. Poor lad is on his own and experiencing his first bout of loneliness since puberty
    b - Miss A, who still refuses to accept it's all over
    c - Miss L2, who capitulated in a soft focus blast of violins
    d - Miss G, who just can't keep her hands off him despite KS using a whip and wooden stool
     
    Answers at the bottom of the thread.
     
    Something of the Week
    Usually at the end of a blog entry I write a bit announcing that item of world importance that attracted my attention in the last few days. Apart from Miss A, who is demanding the bag of chips I promised her, Miss R, who refuses to accept that a little chaos in your life is good for you, and Miss G, who still refuses to acknowledge my presence on the grounds that my existence contravenes all known laws of quantum mechanics, there is absolutely nothing that has made itself important enough to warrant a mention at the bottom of my blog.
     
    On the other hand, Miss S has finally bought a kitten to replace her dead one. This one has racing stripes, so she tells me.
     
    Quiz Answers
    Dunno. It's a smoke-filled testosterone pumping fun thrills and spills roller coaster ride and it's all flashed past so fast I'm totally unable to discern reality from illusion anymore. Choose your own answers and be happy! 100% score for everyone! At least you can't say I'm not generous. I even gave away my cookies to my stockroom friends in a moment of madness. They were so thrilled.
  25. caldrail

    Todays Tuesday Report

    By caldrail,

    That about wraps it up for the warmest October on record. Still humid, still sweaty, and a damp drizzly day. "That's a right ol' rain that is." Commented some old guy as I left the library this morning. He was right. It was like being sprayed by a fine hose. Clearly a gentleman with much experience in the ways of Wiltshire weather.
     
    Yesterday was of course a good deal sunnier and I wandered around Croft Wood, taking in the solitude between dog walking shifts. It's never going to be as quiet as it once was with new housing developments sprouting nearby but for now you can still wander among the trees and spot the occaisional wildlife doing wild things in the wilderness. Except I didn't see anything.
     
    As we endure the end of the warm season and go straight into winter giving autumn a miss, I see a report on the internet news about the possible causes of an apocalyptic end of the world. Among the reasons we might cease to be was a lack of sunshine. Forget aliens, people - Keep watching the weather report!
     
    You Heard It Here First
    Having observed that Swindon was not a priority for the Conservative Party Conference in Manchester, I was thrilled to bits to see a slighty dampened news reporter on television pointing at a pamphlet about housing and telling us that Swindon didn't want all those new houses and reduced planning restrictions. There you go. You heard it here first.
     
    Having Mentioned It
    Also on the news was a report that wiltshire police are changing their strategy and ensuring that more police are on hand to deal with anti-social behaviour, especially that caused by drunkeness. That certainly worked over the weekend. Unfortunately the police weren't on hand when a bad tempered guy wandered into the job club area of the library and attempted to bully his way onto one of the computers set aside for claimants.
     
    As it happens you don't normally see bad behaviour like that in the library. Occaisionally some youth doesn't understand that a library is not a social club and insists on telling everyone at the top of his voice what his facebook mates are up to, but the ladies soon rip youngsters like him to pieces. Once I did see a tall black guy sneak onto a computer while the geeky user was looking for a book on the shelves and used his code for his own purposes, clearly grinning at his ability to intimidate the geek into letting him read emails on someone elses time.
     
    We claimants stopped what we were doing and looked over our shoulders with a disapproving scowl. Realising he was about to be ganged up on, the interloper decided to go bully someone else. He's still in the library now, wandering up and down in the forlorn hope of finding one that's free.
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