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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  1. caldrail
    Despite getting out of bed late this morning after too much cider the night before, I made it to the library for the grand opening ceremony as usual. Thing is though, the mood seemed very muted. Nobody was massing by the door to be let upstairs. Not even The Flash, who lives for his mad dash round the coffee bar every morning.
     
    I should have guessed. I should have realised. The computors were down. The lady on the helpdesk approached as we filed up the stairs on autopilot and delighted in telling us they weren't working. Oh, right, I'll just wander away then...
     
    She told us the four technicians were busy upstairs trying to bring the computers online. I don't remember her exact words, but she made it sound like they were engaged in a life or death struggle with Grungor, the Super Robot, clumsily smashing it's way through the furniture chanting Must... Destroy... Mankind....
     
    "I'm sorry" She added with a smile, "But I don't have a timescale for when the computers will be back."
     
    Huh? How did she know I was going to ask that? Are the librarians psychic?
     
    Political Point of the Week
    The recent scandals in British politics are claiming victims at last. Michael Martin, our Speaker of the Commons, has been forced to stand down. Other MP's have already done so. Calls are now being made for Gordon Brown, our very own Prime Minister, to stand down before the next general election. At least that way he'll be spared the ignomony of having to face one. He got his job without being voted in, and might yet lose it without being voted out.
  2. caldrail

    Meeting Friends

    By caldrail,

    I am by nature a creature that likes his food, and feeling a little peckish, I ventured into my diminutive pantry to determine what wonderful and exotic ingredients I had lurking in there. Ooh heck, this looks a bit sparse.... Uhhh... Any pot noodles left? Nope. Looks like another trip to the supermarket is in order.
     
    The weather of course was damp and miserable. There was a time when we used to get scorching summers, but now the green brigade have banned noxious gases and nearly everything that causes them, it stays cloudy and wet. I turned the corner into the square where Isambard Kingdom Brunels statue stands proud. Before he turned up Swindon was an isolated market town on the hilll. It's fair to say then that he foisted Swindon upon the world. Not his greatest achievement then.
     
    "Hello!" Called a voice in front of me. It was Miss R, a young lady I met some years ago during those heady days when I still had a job. Occaisionally I bump into her and we always have a little chat. Today was no exception. She was going to chat to me and that was that.
     
    In fact, there was only one occaision she ever went silent. It transpired that at the time she was living round the corner from me, and when her car was in for servicing, asked if I could give her a lift. No problem. This was in the era when I drove Bessy, my trusty Toyota MR2 (The Ferrari-esque one of course) and whilst I wasn't deliberately showing off, the look on the her face as she realised I wasn't slowing down for that tight left hander was something I shall treasure forever.
     
    The big suprise is that Miss R is now engaged to be married. Coming from a woman who describes herself as a dedicated 'Commitment-phobe', this was a shock equivalent to learning that Rambo's bandana was made of silk. Well congratulations R, hope it all works for you.
     
    Like women often do she enquired as to my marital status. Don't think I have one of those. Don't you need a license or something? We shared a few jokes about being chained up. As R left to go about her business (even she has to breathe in sometimes) she departed with a cryptic comment and a knowing smile. I wish women wouldn't do that. You walk away wondering if they know something.
     
    Dating Services
    I've noticed just recently that there's been a big increase in adverts for dating services. Television adverts proclaiming there's a shortage of 'hot new men' followed an advert advising us that there's lots of 'hot new men'. Yeah, well, personally I'd prefer lots of 'hot new women' but given my age and financial circumstances, it wouldn't make any difference if they were laying siege to my castle. Might be fun letting them try though.
     
    I'm reminded of those late night adverts for phone networking with... yes, you've guessed it, 'Hot New Women'. You get a thirty second glimpse of two young blondes making seductive glances at the camera whilst studying their mobile phone. I can't help feeling it's a tad dishonest because those two girls on screen aren't likely to be the women you talk you on the phone. Not that I've tried it you understand. Mobile phone charges are expensive enough without this sort of semi-*or* fantasy.
     
    Now along comes another service that proclaims they don't match people by any such means, but make careful comparisons of personality and mindset to produce the perfect match. Along with images of happy contented couples of course.
     
    I would be curious to know how many people of the hopefuls paying out money for these services actually do meet the partner of their dreams, or are they simply being sold false hopes? There's a part of me that thinks these customers are being sold an alternative to learning new confidence and social skills. It looks good on the wrapper, but there's really nothing in the box.
     
  3. caldrail

    No Fool With Fuel

    By caldrail,

    Amongst the crop of job adverts I've had to trawl through this week is a remarkable chance to be Country Manager in Denmark. They want a new ruler who can increase their market share. So if you want to blitzkrieg Europe at the command of the Danish armed forces apply now.
     
    Of course armed forces need fuel. I was interested to discover a vacancy for an oil company in Kyrgyzstan. Managing a pileline in some forgotten corner of the world doesn't strike me as an exciting opportunity, though it wouldn't suprise me if the locals made a lot more exciting than it seems. Then again, if you want excitement, how about running a petrol station in Afghanistan? There's a vacancy to run a military fuel depot. Incredible that a position like that is run by civilians these days.
     
    The Day I Had Too Much Fuel
    The weather wasn't good. It was a cloudy, very blustery, and there was a constant threat of rain. Still, I had a flying lesson booked so I dutifully turned up and there was the aeroplane parked outside the hangar on the back apron. As usual, I went through the pre-flight checks, which is a technical term for making sure the aeroplane is fit to fly. You always do that when you mean to fly. It's the problem you don't know about that will catch you out.
     
    I found a problem. Part of the checks was to test the fuel to ensure no water had accumulated in the tanks. Water in the fuel stops the engine, and that would spoil your entire flight, to say the least. There wasn't any water, but once I removed the prong from the tap avgas continued to dribble out. Oh brilliant.
     
    My instructor, EF, suggested we had enough fuel for an hours flight even with fuel leaking like that. Unacceptable. I insisted that something was done because there was no guarantee the leak wouldn't get worse in flight. Our emergency repair made it worse. The tap was now running. EF got me a bucket from the hangar and went off to find a toolbox.
     
    The wind was cold, damp, and highly variable. Even with the bucket raised up under the wing, half the leaking fuel seemed to blow into my face. It was an hour and a half of hell before EF returned and fixed the tap.
     
    "All right now? " He asked. Nope. I'd been breathing avgas fumes and it wasn't fun. To this day I cannot remember the flight at all. Except... We didn't run out of fuel.
     
    The Day My Fuel Was Running Out
    I'd been a qualified pilot for some time and had arranged to give a joyride with a guy I knew from work. The Cessna 172 was checked out and everything seemed fine. As I recall, the weather was quite good. A mild wind, conveniently down the runway, and some light cloud here and there.
     
    Every ten minutes or so, a pilot should do a series of checks to make sure his instruments are giving him the expected readings. If necessary, adjust the altimeter, the direction indicator, radio frequency, and so on. I looked down at the fuel gauges. The right hand tank was almost down to 20%. What? No way! The tanks were nearly full when we took off and that was only thirty minutes ago.
     
    Better safe than sorry. I said nothing to my passenger but I switched to left tank only, and sure enough, three minutes later, the right tank showed empty. I looked for signs of leakage, both in the cockpit and out under the wing. Nothing. The aeroplane was flying along happily and no sign of any danger. Nonetheless, I decided it was prudent to head home.
     
    The airfield was only fifteen minutes away and we landed without mishap. After I parked the Cessna the tanks were checked visually and guess what? Plenty of avgas sloshing around in there. The fault? A fuel gauge failure. Once I knew that, I told my passenger what had been going on.
     
    "I thought it was a bit funny you'd gone quiet." He said. I chuckled. The conversation may have run out, but at least the fuel hadn't.
     
  4. caldrail
    The living room floor looks like an air accident hangar at the moment. Bits of crashed computer all laid out as I sift through the wreckage for some clue as to what happened. I've ruled out pilot error. Now to check for sabotage... Any loose chips or suspicious cabling?
     
    So far the rescue services haven't located my black box recorder. The investigation goes on.
     
    Shock Horror Revelation of the Week
    It turns out that computer repair shops are havens of dishonesty, as if I didn't know that already. Unscrupulous technicians are cashing in on data found on their clients PC, hacking into bank accounts and so forth. As it happens I don't keep details of bank accounts on my hard drive so I doubt there's much they could learn, but you never know.
     
    In the back of your mind you sort of know that it's risky leaving a computer with someone else, exposing those files you consider private. It comes as something of a worrying development to learn that dodgey practises are widespread.
  5. caldrail
    Job searching doesn't get any easier. Now that Honda have cut back on production, they've started seconding their employees to local firms which means potential jobs won't get offered to the public. Jobs for the boys in other words. Now if full-time jobs are filled before I find them, I'm left with only the possibility of part-time work.
     
    The other problem I face is that agencies aren't keen on putting me forward. If I apply for part time jobs I get asked why. Because a lot of shirkers have been applying for part-time jobs in order to escape retribution for dossing around, I now need a good excuse in order to work less than full time hours. The trouble here of course is that the government also want mothers back in the workplace and naturally they get precedence for short hours. The inescapable conclusion is that I need to get pregnant.
     
    How Not To Get Pregnant
    Just in case anyone didn't get the previous joke, I wasn't serious. Good grief people didn't they teach you about the birds and the bees at school? Apparently someone hasn't taught the two breeding males I passed in the park the other day either. Sorry guys, I'm just not into your lifestyle at all.
     
    Job Fair of the Week
    My first invite to a Job Fair at the local hotel. Hey, things are looking up. If this carries on I'm in danger of a social life. There's the entrance. Party on!
     
    Yeah I know. But it amused the ladies on the door.
     
  6. caldrail

    Considering Others

    By caldrail,

    My last day at the Programme Centre today. I don't think they succeeded turning me into James Bond, but at least I learned a few things about getting a job. Of course it isn't just me. Most of the job seekers there are struggling to find work - although apparently one was struggling with Minesweeper, one of the games that comes with Microsoft Windows. Ahem.
     
    By chance I got talking to the lady on the PC next to mine. It was quickly apparent she was a little emotional, and inevitably the sorry tale of her woes emerged. That's okay, I was happy to listen and she needed to talk. Her neighbour has built a house extension on her land, wrecked her garage, or perhaps more accurately the builders he hired had done so, though clearly it was too much trouble for him to sort it out without recourse to expensive legal action. Her favourite tree, imported from Spain, had large branches snapped off as the builders sought roon to erect scaffolding. Her tarpaulin was 'borrowed' for their use. Her sunshade for a garden table had proven to be a handy weather cover for a drainage hole dug by them.
     
    I genuinely do feel sorry for her plight. Guess what? She has that Rudyard Kipling poem tacked up on her toilet door.
     
    Out And About In Wiltshire Yesterday
    I was in the mood for a hike yesterday. Feeling a bit fed up with the modern world and its materialistic dependencies I pulled my rucksack out, stuffed a load of stuff inside it, and headed for the hills. It was cloudy but quite warm and humid - boy was I sweating! On the way home I passed along the back of the local golf course, and as I turned the corner of a wooded hedgerow dozens of rabbits fled for cover. They're very alert, those wild bunnies, always keen to avoid human company.
     
    Except one, who sat on the muddy path (it's been raining a lot lately) and grazed entirely unconcerned. How odd.... Either the rabbit is blissfully unaware of my presence, or it's a super-bunny waiting to rip me to shreds like Monty Pythons Welsh monster. I strode up to within a couple of feet of it, and still it didn't stir. A bemused lady on a bike rode past, greeted me with a polite good afternoon (who is she? Never seen her before. Hi babe) and the rabbit chewed on.
     
    Sadly the poor animal was blind. Thing is though, humans are smelly animals at the best of times and there was I, sweating like a pig, standing a couple of feet upwind of it. Eventually it realised there might be something nearby (I was sweating you know) and it ambled away to the undergrowth. Well, good luck to you rabbit.
     
    Job Vacancy of the Week
    SAS Risk Analysist required....
     
    Huh? After my eyeballs returned to their sockets I thought, yeah, I could do that. Years of computer game experience should prove useful there eh? Yep, shoot him. No, no the other one, that's... was.... a hostage. Oh well. On the job training I suppose. But my illusions were sadly dashed as it emerged it had nothing to do with tense security situations at all, nor were the Special Air Service remotely involved. It was just another highly paid job in a stuffy office that involves justifying your payroll to the other stuffy individuals competing with you to prevent redundancy. Sigh... Looks like I'm going to have to apply anyway...
  7. caldrail
    For a couple of days now the weather has been very warm and sunny, albeit a tad windy. The rainfall that has drenched France has threatened to claw its way north and finally today, it's here. Not heavy, just that dull drizzle that makes everything damp. It always brings that dull greyness that I associate with Swindon. It also brings a subdued mood too I notice.
     
    It also brings out the dull people. It really does. Now the sun has gone away and the bright cheerful crowd with it there's a crowd of people in the library sounding miserable. People of foreign extraction are crowding around computers and researching prices of tickets home. What I would like is the woman in the next cubicle to go home too. She attacks the keyboard with a gusto of a serious musician. I swear, if she hits those keys any harder, she's going to break them.
     
    I'm looking forward to my jobsearch session this afternoon. It's dry, quiet, and there won't be any machinegun fire of computer keyboards. The only downside is that it will be dull.
     
    Advert of the Week
    Promoters are pushing a new music album and the television advert has run for a few weeks now. It's an interesting way to sell it...
     
    The new album by the man who used to be Cat Stevens
     
    Now that's one gentleman who's being sold as a Has-Been. Not that it should worry him unduly I suppose, the great thing about being a Has-Been is that you must Have Been at some point. So good luck with your album Mr Stevens... ahh... Yusuf.
  8. caldrail
    One of the joys of opening my post box every morning is the flyers and handouts that fuill it. After all, most of the letters I get are no more than rejection letters from employers, so it gets a bit depressing reading them. Thanks for the application, you're not shortlisted, please don't feel upset or suicidal, and apply again whenever you like. I'm starting to think the post service is making bogus job adverts to keep their members in gainful employment.
     
    The flyers are different. Some are simple photocopies of ads for cleaning and domestic services, notes from enterprising individuals asking whether I'd like to sell the house, or full colour glossy menus of mouthwatering chinese, Indian, or Italian takeaways. As much as I like this sort of food, most of the flyers get binned. The outlets are too far to walk considering I've got dozens up and down the hill to choose from and pizzas require a small re-mortgage to pay for.
     
    A couple of days ago however I got one flyer from a sushi bar, just around the corner from where I live. Huh? I never spotted that! It seems then that since Honda has reduced production there are Japanese in the area with time on their hands. How could I possibly resist? So last night it was cash in hand and off down the hill in my usual investigative manner. The bar was small, almost hidden in a recessed front of a brick terrace, overwhelmed by the presence of the extrovert pizza place next door. Blink and you'd miss it. To my suprise, I was served by a gentleman of east european origin. Hmmm. That didn't bode well.
     
    Waiting for my sushi to be served was something of an experience. The dull outward colour may not attract attention, but anyone inside is clearly visible from the road and as cars slowed to a halt at the traffic lights the occupants of the vehicles kept looking across. Did they not realise a sushi bar was there? Or are they in awe of the ramboesque survivalist about to eat raw fish with nothing more than sanded down twigs? Oh come on, I'm not that fat....
     
    Inevitably, I was disappointed. The portiions were little more than snack size (British size - Americans need to adjust by a factor of x0.01) and whilst the food tasted excellent, I can't help feeling that I was eating crab pate instead of the salmon I ordered. I know the Japanese are into small things, but this fish was microscopic. Okay, lesson learned, I'll stick to supermarket sushi.
     
    Fishiness of the Week
    Something is going on down at the local library. You know how you spot a change of mood? The librarians are walking past me grinning like cheshire cats. Come on girls, it just isn't true. I'm really not that fat. Especially now that I'm on a starvation diet of raw fish. Why do I get the feeling that this is actually about something I have no idea of? How can I sleep at nights not knowing what the joke is? Life can be so cruel.
  9. caldrail
    Picture the world in prehistory. No television, computer games, or cars. In between hunting wild beasts I guess they had a lot time on their hands. So bored was one ancestor of humanity that he discovered rubbing wooden sticks together made things catch fire.. Can you imagine how excited he was to discover that?
     
    Later, when voluminous wigs were fashionable, Newton discovered that sitting under apple trees was not only painful, but seriously enlightening. Sometime later, Einstein discovered that mathematics alone could prove how difficult the universe was to understand. Not really mad scientist stuff was it? Where's the drama? Newton decided that gravity constantly attracted things, Einstein discovered there was a universal constant. Sigh... Science is definitely getting duller with each generation.
     
    If you think that's wrong, consider the Big Bang. That's the first thing that ever happened and what an explosion! Everything, literally everything, compressed into a space smaller than my chances of getting a job. Then it blew up. No warning whatsoever. Some people say we're made of stars. I say most of us are made of shrapnel.
     
    The reason I write this is that I've just watched a tv documentary on the Big Bang. It's just so incredible. Like a lot of television programs, it was all Flash Bang Wallop! Fast paced, lots of fancy computer graphics, and the same message repeated thirty seven times. The first second of the universe was the most important. Okay, okay, I got that. Can we move on to something else now?
     
    Eventually they did. They showed a lot of interior shots of that big underground hadron collider in Europe, and told us that this device will open up new vistas of reality we can only dream of. You mean, there's going to be a sequel to this documentary? I can't wait, especially since the only thing I can remember from the voiceover about the hadron collider was that they broke it.
     
    Technology of the Week
    Mind control is here. I've just watched an orchestra play instruments electronically with sensors wrapped around their skulls. Is that a good thing? Part of the joy of playing musical instruments is that moment when your dexterity does what you want without having to think about it. So what's the point of mind control when we've had it built-in for millions of years?
     
  10. caldrail
    Last night I strolled up the hill to get a bag of chips. Yes, it's true, I did. Sometimes my spirit of adventure gets the better of me. Anyhow, this was during the twilight. On the horizon, the last angry embers were fading out. The sky was that deep blue you get shortly before dark. As I looked up, dark grey clouds were wafting silently past. I've always thought how strange it is that clouds move at dusk without any wind.
     
    Even stranger is that spell the moon casts on you. There it is, a pale silvery glow lighting up the thin cloud from behind. You can't help but admire it. It seems to turn the darkening sky into a dull grey, making pale shadows of the passing cloud and lighting their edges with that pastel glow, and away from the moons soft ambience, the lights of Swindon paint the cloud a different shade of brown.
     
    For full effect, a full moon is required, but this three-quarter moon is making all the right colours. Later on I paused for a moment, looking out the back window at the sky, watching the moon play between the clouds. Then I spotted movement. Our local cat? Nope, the legs are too short, more like... A Badger? In this part of town? There he goes, trotting up the back road without a care in the world. Enjoy your night out, little fella.
     
    Checkout Event of the Week
    Earlier yesterday I queued at the supermarket checkout and dropped all my shopping on the rubber conveyor ready for the bored assistant to pass them over her scanner. Another woman joined the queue behind me. In a mood of politeness, I reached out for a plastic barrier to seperate her shopping from mine. As expected, she began piling her shopping on the conveyor too. Until, that is, she grabbed her banana. It slid out of her hand and flew across everyones groceries.
     
    Banana skins really are slippery, aren't they? Don't worry, we caught the banana and returned it to the grateful owner alive and well, before the badger spotted it.
     
  11. caldrail
    Yesterday may have been chilly, but once the sun broke out, it got warm with a vengeance. After an hours walk, I was sweating like nothing else. For a while, around midday, the sky was typically hazy with a few clouds peeking over the top. By the time I had gotten home, cumulus was building nicely.
     
    Of course I should have realised. It's the Glastonbury Festival this weekend and how could our annual musical mudfest pass without torrential downpours? Would they get away with it this year? I only needed to wait.
     
    This morning began with the garage across the yard pulling bits off cars. Then the mechanic suddenly stopped. I pulled down the duvet in bleary eyed suprise and noticed how dark it was. This is the end of June for crying out loud, almost nine o'clock in the morning, it should be bright out there. Then I heard the rain begin.
     
    Looking out the front window, I saw the road submerged by water for almost a third of it's width, buses pushing bow waves ahead of them, and that's on a hillside. The amount of water coming down was stunning. Hmmm.... I think today I shall walk down to the library a little later...
     
    Goodbye Farrah, Goodbye Wacko
    Last night I watched the news reports of the passing of Farrah Fawcett, the blonde babe in the original Charlies Angels tv series of the 70's. I have to be honest, I always preferred Jacklyn Smith, but all the same another icon of my youth has gone.
     
    And now Michael Jackson has gone too, the internet news site filled with articles about his cardiac arrest at the sadly young age of fifty. Wacko or not, the man had talent, he genuinely did.
     
    There is something curious though. How shallow many of the recent stars seem compared to these people, almost as if they're simply living in the wake of the greats. I noticed the same thing about movie stars. Those familiar characters we used to see in their latest feature on the big screen seem to dwarf the reputations of the pretty-boy successors. At any rate, at least our latest two casualties did something with their lives. Most of their critics do nothing more than sit idely and pass judgement on everyone else. Apart from, that is, watching films and listening to albums in the first place.
  12. caldrail

    Boys From The Bang

    By caldrail,

    TV personalities often describe Swindon as dull and rainy. Well, nothing has happened in the last two days and today... Yes... It's raining.
     
    So I'm sat in the library typing this out desperately trying to think of something meaningful to write.
     
    Life, The Universe, And Everything
    You can tell I'm bored, right? In todays blog I address the most fundamental question of about everything. Douglas Adams attempted this and got the answer of 42. Can I do better?
     
    Lets start at the beginning. The Big Bang. Now this is odd, because the universe contains everything there was, is, and ever will be. Now the religious people among us will be already shrugging and claiming their particular god invented the core of energy that spawned our existence in the first palce with a flick of his pinkie. Let There Be Explosions? It seems so.
     
    The thing is, the universe is such a wierd place. If you go right down to the minimal level possible, it turns out that the universe has a frame rate. No really it does. For anyone who isn't a computer gamer that means that time is composed of lots of freeze frame moments, one after the other. God has a pretty good PC though because he gets frame rates something of the order of 1034 per second, and thats quite a lot. Smooth action.
     
    Then there's this feeling that whatever choice I make, there will always be obstructions. And eventually you have to face the Boss at the end of a level.
     
    There's no getting away from it. I'm living in a virtual computer game. Sims Swindon in 3D. When you consider that, 42 does seem a bit lame doesn't it?
     
    TV Advert of the Week
    In their end-of-series episode of Top Gear, the tem were tasked to come up with television adverts for the new diesel Golf Sciroocco. It was quite amusing, but if I were brutally honest, I actually preferred Jeremy Clarksons "It's Explosive!" ad, the one he did first. Simple, visually impressive, and none of that arty nonsense (though I confess I did like the "Berlin to Warsaw" joke too).
     
    Explosions. We love 'em don't we?
  13. caldrail

    Do I Need To Say More?

    By caldrail,

    Today I think I shall struggle a little to find something to write about. So far the biggest event of the day was some guy having a loud conversation on his mobile phone whilst sat by the next computor to me. Hardly world shaking stuff.
     
    Dying A Death
    What on earth is all this fuss about Magrahi for? If the court was correct and he was guilty of causing the Lockerbie Bombing, then frankly I have no sympathy for him at all. So what if he's dying of cancer? There are people around the world dying needlessly for all sorts of reasons, and I suspect a great many of them are more deserving of life.
     
    Unfortunately his hand in the loss of a jumbo jet over Scotland and everyone aboard makes him something of a notorious figure. I notice though that the sudden support for rebel movements in Libya came after this man was released on humanitarian grounds. Okay. he's free. Now let him die.
     
    That will probably sound a bit harsh to some people. That's the problem with justice. None of those people he killed can be compensated or brought back, so how can such a man be justly dealt with? One obvious answer is through legal proceedings, which has already occured, but that alone doesn't necessarily make it right. After killing 243 passengers, 16 crew, and 11 people in the town where the debris fell, an act that was deliberate and premeditated, how does a few years in prison ever really be considered just punishment? Fate has intervened and now he's suffering.
     
    Nope. Not bothered at all.
     
    Where's Waldo?
    After the long commercial success of Where's Waldo? or his british clone, Where's Wally?, how long is it going to be before someone creates a Where's Gaddafi? book? Come to think of it, Where's Saddam? or Where's Bin Laden? were popular news items for ages.Where's Hitler? has sold copies in various forms ever since 1945.
     
    Hmmm... That sets me thinking... What about Where's The Stolen White Eunos Cabriolet?. Might have some commercial poosibilities. It's a fair bet someone made money on my lost car by now (a little clue for the police there, in case they're struggling to solve the mystery).
  14. caldrail

    They're Coming!

    By caldrail,

    There was a time, before the BBC discovered computerised special effects, that we used to see those fifties 'B' movies. You know the ones? A terrible threat to mankind emerges from its hiding place and lays waste to the nearest big city before mankind finds a way to destroy it. Good wholesome family viewing. All these films followed a familiar pattern. Whether the threat came from space aliens, nuclear radiation, meteorites, or chemicals, it all started with an innocent small town slowly becoming aware of a lurking menace.
     
    When the threat is realised, the good reverend clutches his bible to his chest, and advances toward the monster safe in the knowledge that a leather bound book is all he needs to protect himself from the terrible fate that inevitably gets him anyway. Then the army turn up and fire everything they've got. It turns out of course that bullets and shells bounce off the creature but the army fights to the last scream of agony. High Command, realising that London and Paris are also being stomped and eaten, decide to drop a nuclear bomb, which does no more than daze the monster for five seconds before it remorselessly continues doing what the writer intended it to.
     
    The end is always a suprise. At the very last moment we discover the monster was vulnerable to something very ordinary and we see the closing credits as the choir sings in the background, announcing that the world is safe until the next feature release.
     
    A few days ago, two policemen turned from our street into the alleyway and were never seen again. Hmmm... Strange.... Well I thought no more of it until I bought yesterdays newspaper intent on finding a job advert. Lo and behold, pest exterminators are warning of a new danger in Swindon. Our cute, loveable local sewer rat has mutated into a big nasty indestructible Giant Super-Rat. No, really, they mean it. The monster rodents are unaffected by poison and traps are the only answer. So serious is the threat that BBC Radio One is holding their Big Weekend at Lydiard Park to lure them out, and the government are recalling troops from Iraq.
     
    Mark my words - There will be loads of screaming women before this is over...
     
    They've Arrived!
    It was past midnight when I heard the lorry out the back of the house. We don't usually get a lot of traffic in the back streets at that hour. The odd mobile night club with a fat exhaust or a sprinting motorbike usually. Out of curiosity I opened the back window and observed a large lorry backing up the road to a property further up the hill. Deliveries? At this hour? The driver saw me leaning out the window (his eyesight is pretty good), and hurled an incoherent reminder for me to mind my own business. Suit yourself mate. I was going to warn you about the Giant Super-Rats prowling the area, but....
     
     
  15. caldrail
    For a few days now cheery weatherpersons have smiled and siad we're all going to get wet. Amber triangles are shown on the screen with Heavy Rain! in bold black lettering. Risk of local flooding. They might be right I suppose. It's just that so far we've only had one day of rain and that was drizzly. I must also confess, that as I write this, I can see the library window splattered with raindrops. I knew I should have brought my canoe with me.
     
    The damp conditions now spreading across Swindon mean something else. It's an early death for woodland flowers. The undergrowth absolutely loves wet weather and as I strolled along the alleyway behind my home, the undergrowth was sprouting vigorously. Thornbushes, nettles, and ferns predominate. Young saplings eagerly racing for a patch of sky to call their own. Also, however, horsetails. They look a little bit like primeval ferns, the sort of thing you'd see in a Carboniferous Forest millions of years ago. In fact, that's not far wrong. Horsetails are the only survivor of an entire range of plants, some of whom grew as trees in times past. We have a miniature Jurassic forest right here in Swindon.
     
    We also have our fair share of primeval inhabitants too. Yesterday, like any nutcase Englishman, I went out into the midday sun for a spot of fresh air and exercise. On the grassy public spaces a very fashionable youth was walking his pitbull dogs and they ran at me. Not violently (phew!) but it was dodge them or fall over. He of course took no notice. Did he do that on purpose?
     
    Worse still, once I had passed and was going about my lawful business, I heard him call me a 'poser'. Is he serious? A walking pimple farm in baseball cap, expensive street cred apparel, and two barely controllable pitbull dogs to inflate his pre-pubescent lumps? Look in the mirror young man. You're a schoolboy. You might be impressing your mates in the school yard, the rest of the world think you're wet behind the ears.
     
    It's such a jungle out there...
     
    Meanwhile, Back At The Library
    Is there something wrong with young people in Swindon? Is there some strange cult teaching them to be idiots and morons? I say this because of The Flash. He's the kiddie I mentioned before, the one who seems utterly determined to be the first through the doors.
     
    Today he excelled himself. He brushed past the security guard and ran up the stairs with a big grin on his face. Once I followed the herd behind him I spotted him sat down in the rest area, feet up, staring vacantly into space.
     
    Meanwhlie, Back In The Real World
    AM has announced his intention to leave England for foreign shores this year. Oh no... Don't tell me he's actually going to do it? That he means to act decisively and positively to travel to a pre-chosen destination?... Bye.
     
    The foreign gentleman who's revealed to us that England is an armpit chuckled. I wonder why? Does he know something about AM's chosen destination that we don't?
  16. caldrail
    There's a strange phenomenon that takes place when Swindon gets bad press. You suddenly find hordes of people who say "We like it."
     
    Swindon has tried ceaselessly to reinvent itself ever since the railworks closed. Out with the old, in with the new, oops we made mistake, look at our brand new plan. In fairness, the pace of beautification is increasing. The victorian pidgeon nets are vanishing, plans to reintroduce the canals throughn the town center are in place, and architects impressions of wide pedestrian areas between tall glass buildings regularly put on display.
     
    It's not all plans and ideas though. There's an italianate influence in the new architecture. You can't help feeling that the town planners took a holiday in Tuscany and discovered the outside world really was prettier.
     
    The biggest problem with Swindon though is exactly what it always was - the people who live there. Another cannabis farm was uncovered by police in a house half a mile from mine just the other day. Graffiti Mice are breeding and leaving lots of territory markers on any available surface. Supermarkets are now refusing to deliver in some parts of Swindon in the evenings. On the way to the libraray today I passed a group of four men arguing about who the girlfriend belonged to, and it wasn't calm polite exchange. Motorbikes blast along any straight road with engines howling, often with front wheels in the air, regardless of situation. Kids gather on streets and everyone, including number ten buses, have to go around them.
     
    The alleyway behind my home has become so filled with discarded windows, piano's, bottles, exercise machines, childrens toys, cardboard, sofa's, and the occaisional mattress that someone has now decided that throwing their rubbish into my front yard is a good idea. This is what I mean about our local population. They seem to want this urban degradation around them as it's their natural habitat.
     
    I guess they would say "If you don't like it, go somewhere else". That attitude, above all else, is why Swindon will never be beautiful.
     
    Speeding Fine of the Week
    A granny has just been fined for speeding on her moped which has a maximum speed of 8mph. That's the trouble with speed camera's, they've left the police without anything to do.
  17. caldrail

    Big Deals

    By caldrail,

    The Opening of the Library has become a daily ritual in my life now. It's almost assumed religious significance as I enter the Temple of Bookworms and quietly wait for the monks guarding the lower chamber to unlock the fold-away doors to the Inner Sanctum upstairs.
     
    Not any more. yesterday the guard, whom I've not seen before, opened the coffee bar and told the faithful that they'll just have to walk around the staircase. What? Have we erred? Are we being punished for our sins?
     
    Groan. Oh well. Like everyone else I joined the throng ambling around the stairwell. AM was there, and as always, whinging, though I have to say this time he had a point. Once upstairs I sat down at my usual cubicle and began logging on. AM stomped past me on his crutches and making sure I heard, loudly proclaimed that "These limey's just don't get it."
     
    Trust me, AM, I got it a long while back. You were the bloke who used to bully people off your favourite PC. I suspect you were no different when you were serving in the armed forces in your youth, which you like to make a big deal of. That's why I don't listen to you. There are heroes and casualties more deserving.
     
    Celebration of the Week
    Saint George stood outside the library in his medieval armour, looking quite magnificent in his crusader style helm and surcoat. Now there's a legend that the good Sir Knight fought a dragon at Uffington, a few miles away to the southeast, so I guess our town has every right to majke a big thing of his birthday. George was standing there in front of me almost fifteen feet high. Big lad. Poor old dragon never stood a chance.
     
  18. caldrail

    Try Try Again

    By caldrail,

    Now that I've been unemployed for a year, I must face the Inquisition. It's a ritual designed to help me get back to work, though to be honest, it rarely makes any difference. They change a few conditions on my jobseekers contract and send me to a special unit where I can learn how to be a jobseeker again.
     
    There were a few us waiting for interviews. A woman walked up and asked if we were in the right place. The guy opposite me looked puzzled. "In the right place..." He mumbled, staring emptily into space. The woman walked away again muttering something about that being all right then.
     
    My scheduled inquisitor was a man called Brian. Is that a good or bad omen?. In the first floor office where I sat there was a complete absence of Brianoids and eventually he turned out to be a pleasant young asian woman. Some women just talk and talk don't they? Brian didn't draw breath once from start to finish. She was in such a rush to sort out my complacency. So after nodding agreement in between her bursts of non-stop chatter and fumbled keyboard presses, I signed up for a course in self-motivation. I'm going to have to start getting up in the mornings again. No, let's be positive. With a bit of luck, I'll manage to get a job before the lucky company goes bust in the economic downturn. Speaking of which...
     
    Budget of the Week
    We have a tradition in England called the Budget. It's that time of the year when the Chancellor rells us how much more expensive life is going to be. This years Budget is simply so entertaining that it makes The Charge Of The Light Brigade look like the most brilliant decision in military history. I won't bore you with the details - it's been on the tv news for two days now already - but you can't help feeling that the government have given up trying to solve Britains escalating debt, and decided instead to see how bad they can make it before they finally lose power.
     
  19. caldrail

    Anger and Awareness

    By caldrail,

    The problem with blogs is that there's a tendency to reveal too much. There's been a warning recently about people giving away information on social networking sites that a fraudster or a burglar could use.
     
    I own a large vicious dog by the way, just in case that's of any use to you. If not, you can always smile at the cameras.
     
    But more to the point, something else has gone beyond a joke in my life and whilst there's a self impiosed limit on family news to be made public, I think it's time one piece of information (which is actually pretty useless to burglars or fraudsters so quite safe) should be placed on public view.
     
    My mother is a committed christian, and outwardly at least, a quiet and inoffensive member of the community. Certainly she wants to be seen that way. In fact, she made sure I was aware she didn't want anything written about her on blogs or forums. At the time, that was okay with me, but just lately, things have gotten a little more heated.
     
    My mother has always wanted me to be Christian. She took me to church on Sundays as a child and I remember those dull sermons and pointless rituals with relief I don't have to bother with them now. That's essentially the problem. With my spritiuality declared, mother wants me back in the fold. She was the one who mentioned earlier that 'You can always come back'. Quite why I don't know because I never a believer in the first place.
     
    But it gets worse. Mother is not the most sophisticated person in the world (even she would have to admit that) and I honestly think there were people in the Middle Ages who knew more about the Universe than she does. She once discovered my childish satanic paraphenalia that many Heavy Metal fans collect for the sake of it. At the time, all she did was fume angrily and grimly mutter "I know something about you" repeatedly.
     
    Hard to believe that people like that are still around in our otherwise so enlightened age isn't it? I've kept it quiet for a long time now, simply because that was how family life was, but seeing the extent of interference in my everyday affairs that has been going on and increasing both in frequency and spitelfulness, I would like it known that....
     
    Your insults will get you nowhere Mum. Sorry, but I'm over the age of consent and that means I choose what I believe in. I choose to be a spiritualist (of a sort, anyway). There is no truth in Jesus if all he is is an excuse to control others.
     
    Class of the Week
    It's back to school for me today as I've just completed my first session on my Electrical Awareness course. I did think it was going to be a fairly inocuous series of lectures about wiring but ye gods next session I'm testing live mains installations with no rescue helicopter outside. School was never like this!
     
  20. caldrail

    Making A Difference

    By caldrail,

    For years Swindon has been a byword for Victorian pidgeon nests. Our 19th Century legacy has survived in all sorts of quiet corners around the town. For the most part, these brick edifices were as rundown and abandoned as their inhabitants. Yet as shabby as it was, it leant a certain character to the place. In recent years, I've wandered around the town taking photographs. The interesting patina of urban decay is simply wonderfully photogenic. The industrial archaeology alone is worth two gigabytes of disc space. It's made me such an interesting person they don't dare invite me to parties anymore.
     
    Now what do I find? Every time I publish a photo of Grotty Swindon on the World Wide Web, it changes a year later to Demolished Swindon, soon to be replaced by Neat, New, Tidy Swindon. I photograph a property, put it in my 2009 Calendar (see Stuff, bottom right) and it gets demolished. I ask a security guard to photograph an old railway shed, and they pull it down. I photograph an old bus station office and half of it gets stolen. I snap a pic of a nightclub in an old building and someone sets fire to it.
     
    Thanks to me, Swindon is becoming a redeveloped beautiful place to live. Even before I've been made Mayor I've made a difference. I hope the Council is taking notes here. I'm going to start taking photographs of people. Before long, I'll be dating a supermodel. Might get a bit messy in between though.
     
    Pic of the Day
    Whoops. Too late. It's been demolished. You need to be quick in Swindon these days.
     
    Early Morning of the Week
    I was woken during the night by an irate person whose opinion of someone was probably heard across Swindon. At any rate, I heard a dull metallic thud which sounded like a lager can being thrown against a car. I'll check my car for dents later today. Once he'd explained to his mates why he didn't like this person and faded into the distance, I dozed off again.
     
    The music was loud. Very loud. It sounded like it came from across the yard, the same people who had that outdoors party once before. Surely this is breach of the peace? No point phoning the police though, they tell me they can't do anything, so I suppose I'd have to bludgeon someone to death before they turned up. I was well tempted. Luckily, so was someone else, and the music stopped. Zzzzzzz......
     
  21. caldrail

    Electric Performance

    By caldrail,

    I like the internal combustion engine. It might only be a collection of moving metal parts, but it has a life of its own. I just love the way a well-tuned engine sings when pulling hard. Some people might say the sound is merely a harsh droning noise - for me, it's a concerto for pistons.
     
    We all know that fossil fuels will eventually run out. Before that happens, petroleum will become too expensive. Before that happens, petrol cars will become uneconomic. Before that happens, an alternative must be found. Toyota has given us the Prius. I would prefer if they'd take it away again, and not foist rubbish like that on unsuspecting celebrities who only want to do their bit for climate change. Tesla reworked a Lotus to create an electric sports car, powered by thousands of laptop batteries. A good idea, but a sports car that needs a sixteen hour recharge after two laps isn't likely to thrill anyone.
     
    Now Chevrolet have unveiled the Volt. Billions of dollars have been spent on this ordinary family car. Having seen it, I'm not sure I'd want to spend anything on it. All I want to know is... Does it go faster? Does it corner better? Does it look like it does both better? Nope. Not yet.
     
    Government Assistance of the Week
    Now our government is planning to help people choose electric cars by offering a
  22. caldrail

    Rainy Days

    By caldrail,

    British weather is responsible for more conversations than hot dinners. Poems have been inspired by it. Well, I haven't exactly been that inspired over the last two days, now that our early spring sunshine has gone.
     
    Two days ago the rot set in. There was a cold wind and the sky was claggy, humid, almost misty, and the sun was losing it's battle to burn this murk away. It was a quiet, reflective day. I wandered around Lawns (a park that was once the grounds of the local manor house) and people were fishing, walking their dogs, or just sitting there meditating. Kind of an odd day. Only Milo, a dog that adopted me as a friend just lately much to the chagrin of it's ever-patient owner, showed any energy.
     
    Yesterday we had the storm. It's rare for just cloudbursts to arrive over Swindon at this time of year, normally you'd expect more drizzly rainfall. I looked up from my computer screen as the sky went dark, a sure sign of heavy cloud. I looked out the back of the house and a slate gray fog hung over Swindon whilst sunshine was visible to the south, almost obscured by the buildings further up the hill. The rain came down in heavy torrential droplets. A small river flowed down the gravel alleyway that runs beside the car park. Secure in my warm and dry premises, I watched the rainfall and not suprisingly, noticed the sudden lack of activity on Swindon streets.
     
    Today is the more typical dreary wet weather that we Brits love to ignore. Even when the drizzle subsides, people still walk quickly from place to place with umbrellas. Experience in British weather soon teaches you that it can change from one extreme to another. Rain? Don't talk to me about rain...
     
    Reminisence of the Week
    Some years ago, I turned up to the airfield hoping to get a flight in before the expected bad weather reached England. The day was lovely and sunny. Clumps of towering cumulus hung in the sky here and there, but it was definitely flyable. The weather report in the control tower suggested that the incoming front was a bad one, low cloud and heavy rain. I decided not to fly far from the field, just get another hour in the logbook and enjoy what sunshine there was.
     
    The little Cessna 150 isn't exactly an inspiring aeroplane to fly, but it was cheap to rent, so off I took, the aeroplane lifting eagerly into the sky like it always did. There wasn't much turbulence either, and I flew here and there northeast of the field as the sun warmed the cockpit. I did, howebver, keep a careful eye on the distant wall of cloud. A baleful white and grey herald of bad things. It was obviously getting closer, and I decided it was time to fly home and land in safety.
     
    Arriving at the airfield and joining the circuit overhead, it was clearly none too soon to bring the aeroplane home. The weather was very close now. I could see the rain under the encroaching clouds, thick blurry shafts of it looking strangely like teeth. I flew round the circuit and it was obvious the cloud was moving faster than I 'd reckoned on. It dawned on me I'd done something dumb. I hadn't planned for diverting elsewhere, and that meant my landing was going to have to be a good one. In theory, I should have called over the radio and got myself vectored to another field. In reality, I thought I had enough time to land before the rain closed in.
     
    It was on the final approach I saw that the runway was being swallowed up. The airfield was vanishing before my eyes. There was no way I was going to 'go around' into that! So, I made a decision to press on, to make that landing. I actually thought I still had time to slip in.
     
    Over the boundary of the field, something like ten feet above the tarmac, my world dissappeared into a light grey void. The rain came down onto the little Cessna like nothing else. For one moment there I thought I'd blown it. Caldrail, this is where you don't walk away...
     
    Then something peculiar happened. Although the world was nothing but a solid grey nothingness, the tarmac ahead of me was visible as a dark trapezoid. I was flying in a monochrome world, alone, just above this dark shape that was the only object outside my little aeroplane. It was, in actual fact, a perfect visual guide to land by. I touched down lightly - by strange irony it was one of my smoother landings - and I wondered how wet I was going to get after I found the parking area.
     
    Not even slightly. Seconds after touching down the Cessna rolled out of the rain into bright sunshine the other side of the squall. The expected bad weather was still distant, way ahead of me. I parked the aeroplane and made my way back to the club, aware of those air traffic controllers glaring at me from inside the tower at that idiot who'd nearly killed himself. Caldrail, this is what you don't get away with...
  23. caldrail
    I don't know if anyone's noticed, but it's Easter Weekend. Yes, the Annual Chocolate Fest is upon us again. I should know, there's been a party in the small yard behind the garage. Lights, loud music, and a steady stream of curious people wondering who's making all the noise now the pubs have closed. It started in the afternoon, and by the early hours of the morning, was still going strong. Amazing what an excess of chocolate will do to some people.
     
    Public health advice - Please be aware that chocolate is poisonous. Twenty two pounds of it is a lethal dose. Please gorge sensibly.
     
    Meanwhile, Back At The World Stage...
    Fear not, Planet Earth. Brown-Man is here to save us. And Captain Obama is here to save Brown-Man. Just in case you were worried about the economic climate and the supply of easter eggs.
     
    Growth Industry of the Week
    An addiction to chocolate confectionary has gripped Somalia. So much so that they're resorting to piracy to pay for the easter eggs. I do notice though that Somali fishermen are now complaining about the pirates because it makes their livelihoods much less secure. The money changing hands at the moment is huge and only a few are benefitting from it. Up until now it's all been a bit gentlemanly but after the capture and ransom of an American captain, I can't help wondering if the next growth industry is going to be military action. After all, the Americans have some very bitter memories of Somalia.
     
    Roundabout of the Week
    Anyone who knows anything about Swindon, at least those who admit to such forbidden knowledge, will have heard about the Magic Roundabout. A survey has declared our well loved road junction as the second worst in the country. One suspects the drivers questioned were the second worst motorists in Britain, but then the roadside repair company that made the survey also chose not to employ me. Just shows what they know.
     
  24. caldrail
    "Hello!" She shouted from across the road. Huh? Is she talking to me? The woman doesn't look familiar but she seems to know who I am.
     
    "It's me!" She shouted. Yes I can see that, but I haven't a clue who she is. I look around in case there's someone else nearby.
     
    Oh no, she's walking across the pedestrian crossing toward me and she's got a big expectant grin on her fiace. You know, this is going to be embarrasing. I simply make a gesture of ignorance and tell her I haven't a clue who she is. Does she try to jog my memory? Nope. She just gets annoyed and mutters darkly. Walk away Caldrail.
     
    Uh ioh. She's following me. To be honest, the woman doesn't look dangerous but this is getting spooky. There's a set of traffic lights across the main road ahead. I've pressed the button to change the lights but as with all british pedestrian crossings, they're designed to wait until you've been waylaid by loonies. No, I'm not waiting. Across the road I stride - a bemused driver rolls past, trying to figure out why I was crossing the road when he has a green light, but thankfully the next car observes the Highway Code and remembers that cars must stop for pedestrians on crossings regardless. I've escaped! The woman waits for the lights to change and I walk smartly away.
     
    Don't talk to stangers, children. That woman seriously sent shivers down my spine. It sounds ridiculous I know, I should have laughed, but I didn't.
     
    leap of the Week
    Earlier I'd had a stroll around Coate Water. A pair of dogs, retrievers, had jumped down off the pathway and were sniffing around the waters edge below on the cobbled slope. Both dogs weren't young, a little overweight, and looked ridiculously short-legged. Nonetheless, when their owner decided it was time to go, both dogs leapt up the wall like nothing I've ever seen. Very impressive.
     
    You see, I know how difficult some dogs find vertical jumps. years ago, I was walking our dog down the old Swindon Station site in Old Town. Back then it was a disused plot with the platforms still in place. The dog was happy, running around, sniffing and cocking legs, like dogs do. They leave calling cards for strangers that way. Then he noticed I was on the brick platform and decided to join me. He leapt up but didn't make it. His front paws clinging to the edge, his back legs desperately clawing for grip. It's rare to see to such things in a dog's face, but I sware his eyes opened in alarm as he realised he was about to fall off.
     
    Bump. Down he went, on his backside, and rolled over in an undignified heap before walking away with his feathers ruffled. I shouldn't laugh... but I did.
  25. caldrail

    Armpits and Algae

    By caldrail,

    In the good old days when men were railwaymen and cars came without pillows in the steering wheel, I used to hear english spoken. It's true. These days official forms come in fifteen different languages and young people don't understand each others slang any more. People wonder why I don't go on foreign holidays. Are they serious? Not only do the Department of Work and Pensions not pay me to enjoy myself abroad, they invite every other country's inhabitants to live next door. Sign on the dole and see the world.
     
    It does beg the question of why I'd need to visit a tourist trap in some foreign country. Everybody there has escaped the english tourists by living in England. But it seems the current economic situation in Britain isn't pleasing the eastern europeans. Now that the queues have caught up with them again (is that a coincidence?) I hear them grumbling.
     
    "Britain is the armpit of Europe." Said one disgruntled Pole in the cubicle opposite to me. "I'm going home."
     
    Well. What can I say? It's incredible that after the Polish community here went to all the trouble of opening shops that speak their language he's now going home again. Obviously he came here to escape Polish newsagents. Still, the rich diversity of racial and cultural mix in our area has one benefit. Elves are no longer afraid to show their faces in public. One sat in the cubicle next to me yesterday. His woolly cap and angelic face was a dead giveaway. Must be here for a midnight frolic. Or is he an elvish entrepeneur, dealing in childrens teeth without telling Customs & Excise? Does Santa know he's moonlighting?
     
    Enquiry of the Week
    All of a sudden my car is popular. As a shiney white mean machine it annoyed everyone, though possibly that was partly due to the Saturn Five moon rocket exhaust pipe, or even my habit of going to warp at the press of the accelerator.
     
    Now its a poor neglected shadow of its former self. I console myself that I've provided the perfect enviroment for rare species of algae. There you go. Cars can be good for the enviroment. Yet for some strange reason the natives are suddenly interested in driving my immobile steed. With the eco-friendly patina giving my lovelorn car the natural touch, I've already had one hopeful young man try his luck at the door.
     
    Yesterday evening, as I reclined in a bath in silent meditation of whether that spider was planning to ambush me if turn my attention away, I heard a bunch of lads on their way to the pub round the corner.
     
    "Does he want that car or what?" Asked one with the volume control set to four. Of course loud noise triggers an instinctive reaction in thirsty english youths on a Saturday night so they all started hooting and beating their chests. They could try asking me. Who knows? I might tell them. But then... Big tough macho lads dare not make polite enquiries at the door... Someone might find out...
     
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