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caldrail

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  1. caldrail

    Bangs And Fizzles

    By caldrail,

    Here in Blighty we've just had Guy Fawkes Night. Or more usually because history in schools isn't really taught any more, Firework Night. It seems odd to me that we celebrate a failed terrorist attempt to blow up the Houses of Parliament, but there you go.
     
    There's a shop down the road from me that caters for fancy dress and parties. I've not been in there, but there's always a fascinating window display and with Halloween, all sorts of rubber monstrosities appear. I especially like the old wizard. One day I'll pop in and ask if I can buy him.
     
    However, the arrival of Guy Fawkes Night meant that fireworks were on sale. Back when I was a kid there were television campaigns to get you to buy entire arsenals of gunpowder filled cardboard tubes. 'Standard Fireworks' pretty much seemed to have had the market to themselves.
     
    These days such adverts are not allowed. I'm suprised you can still buy fireworks at all. Imagine my suprise then when the local fancy dress shop advertised 'Buy One Get One Free' not only across their windows, but on a placard out in the street. They're almost giving the things away. So what happened to Fireworks Night? I hardly heard a bang.
     
    Pep It Up Guys
    I see the Vatican had finally realised that church services are considered a bit dull. That's an understatement. However the catholic church was always an organisation that takes itself a bit seriously. I find it a bit hard to imagine the Pope making one of his appearances at the window of the Vatican in true James Brown style, or the local vicar leading a christian rock band to the point where old ladies queue up to dive off the stage into the crowd. So The Blues Brothers were prophets after all?
     
    Nope. Still not interested in becoming a christian. It's been two thousand years people - can you not get it right yet?
     
    Made It Back
    Congratulations to the Russian team for simulating a 500 day manned mission to Mars. I'm not sure why I want to congratualte them for serving a sixteen month jail sentence in a science laboratory, but everyone else is, and I guess if rehabilitating prisoners means making them do useful things like getting fired into long space voyages, well so be it.
  2. caldrail

    Suffering Little Crises

    By caldrail,

    Somebody, somewhere, decreed my week would be a rotten experience. I know this because my week was a dreary rotten experience. Nothing major, you understand, just more life on the rubbish tip.
     
    It began with a suprise visit to the chinese takeaway at the bottom of the hill. Sometimes you just have push the boundary a litle to make life worthwhile. It will mean I spend the next month eating chicken roll sandwiches, but these are the sacrifices we must make in the face of economic woes. Why is it takeaways never put all the right menu choices in the bag? I never choose egg fried rice. Too boring.
     
    Normally things like that are no more than lifes little learning experiences and we move on. So I popped down to the local supermarket where the lady on the till refused to assist me. Not sure why. Maybe I didn't meet her criteria for membership of the human race? On the other hand, maybe she's just a crabby old witch in a bad mood? All I wanted was another plastic bag.
     
    The random discovery that I still had a few coins left meant that my takeaway food experience was not a lost paradise. Armed with my little cache of treasure I almost rushed out the door. Anything to break my diet of chicken roll sandwiches. Sadly my cheap chicken burger disintegrated. Noooo!!!!
     
    Finally, to cap it all, the energy company sent me a letter telling me that they think that it's economically desirable to raise my payments now that I've almost reduced my gas usage to zero. Seriously, that really has happened. Pay more for less. It's the western democratic free market way.
     
    As you might expect I immediately made that irate phone call. How things have changed! A decade ago the gas companies just laughed and made lame excuses. Now they're only too keen to stop you buying gas from someone else. Aww man, this is going to hurt...
     
    Thank you David Cameron.
     
    I said it, okay? Let's move on.
     
    Investigations And Conclusions
    My woes are nothing. The greek prime minister has finally decided that he's not impressing anyone, Michael Jackson's doctor has been found guilty of his death, no-one's bothered to check where our immigrants have gotten to, and a terrible accident on the M5 motorway is being blamed on smoke from firework night party. Worst of all, civilisation is threatened by the discovery that a kilogram weight isn't behaving itself.
     
    Scientists have discovered that the kilogram standard, a piece of metal kept in sealed and secure conditions, has changed mass, though oddly no-one seems able to decide whether it got lighter or heavier. I mean, if these scientists can detect a change of several microgrammes, why can't they figure out which way the change has gone?
     
    I also hear that an asteroid is swooping past Earth closer than the Moon's orbit. Although the interplanetary rock is as big as an aircraft carrier, you'll need a telescope to see it. Scientists tell us that the asteroid will pass by harmlessly. Is that to the left or right? Or don't they know?
  3. caldrail

    My Own Particular Style

    By caldrail,

    Lately there's been a few dictators receiving redundancy notices. As if unemployment wasn't bad enough already. We seem to regard dictators as a modern phenomenon but if you think about it, there's always been aggressive nasty individuals who rather like throwing their weight around. Something imbedded in the human psyche means that although we usually co-operate as a society, there's always going to be one or two individuals who want to run it.
     
    That trait doesn't always mean politics. Criminal ganags are run by ruthless individuals more often than not. Even some families have a minor tyrant or two in their ranks. Power over others is an intoxicating motive - it even inspres some of the less well regarded human endeavours like serial killings.
     
    Young L has been given charge of the front desk at the museum. Whilst it's pleasing to see he takes his responsibilities seriously, the manner whicjh he carries them out is ridiculous. On my last shift he tried to put me in my place in front of the team, for no other reason than trying to put me in my in his pocket, so to speak. "When you're sat there, I'm the boss" He trumpeted loudly. He almost beat his chest.
     
    Unfortunately for Young L he seems to have forgotten that I'm not under contract to the museum. I work there as a volunteer by mutual agreement. Therefore in strict terms there's nothing to stop me getting up and walking home other than good manners and betrayal of trust. Sorry, L, no. You might have authority to direct my activities there, but you're not my boss in any way whatsoever.
     
    How about that? I fended off an attempted subjugation and Poland is safe from invasion
     
    Doff Of The Cap
    Despite the gloomy weather reports I see a bright sunny morning out there. For a november day it's remarkably mild. Perfect weather then for the Remembrance Parade at our local cenotaph.
     
    The sacrifice of previous generations is of course the whole point, but as I waited for the library to open the bugles sounded the last post. You know, that;'s a very evocative sound, and even without any direct association with the armed services or indeed any excess of patriotic spirit, I couldn't help feel stirred by it.
     
    Why is that I wonder? What is it about that bugle call that resonates in my subconcious? I don't feel guilty about not serving in the armed forces - I was refused after all - and indeed I'm grateful I've never had to suffer the pain and anguish of warfare.
     
    Just now, as I'm typing this, the column of servicemen are marching down the local high street. That insistent drumbeat is audible above the mass of boots on tarmac, or the excited hordes of asian children swarming over a computer downstairs.
     
    Why aren't I there, among the onlookers watching the parade march by? Because I'm typing this instead, doffing my cap in my own particular way. You see, that's the way of things. If you fight to stave off dictatorships and preserve your freedoms, you must allow people to be express that freedom their own way, or all you've done is change the regime.
  4. caldrail

    Well Meant Advice

    By caldrail,

    Today I made another visit to my local surgery. All part of keeping the Grim Reaper at arms length. Nothing much to report, just a routine visit, and despite not feeling completely fit as a fiddle, I'm not suffering in any real sense.
     
    By coincidence I spotted a news article teling us fifty-somethings how to stay in the front line against the Grim Reaper. Sort of like a survival manual for grey haired old codgers. Who knows? Maybe there's a few tips I could use?
     
    Tip number one. Keep Checking. Oh yes. Bumps, bruises, coughs, splutters, and all those invisible microbes trying to ruin my day must be prevented from entering my private space. Where can I rent a penthouse suite cheap? Must remember to design a pointlesslly huge aeroplane sometime soon.
     
    Tip number two. Keep Your Feet Fit. Apparently the rot starts with the feet. Once they go, you get knee problems, then back problems, and before you know it, you're exactly the sort of person you used to fume at when you were young. Mind you, the article doesn't tell you how to do all this. Lifting weights with my big toe isn't as easy as you think - you have to balance them at the same time.
     
    Tip number three. Stay Immune. So checking you're not unhealthy isn't enough? It seems I must also fight ilnness and infection if I want to stay healthy. Might need to contact that policeman and tell him I need that shotgun after all.
     
    Tip number four. Get Moving. If I remain motionless for too long everyione will think I'm dead. Don't laugh, it uisn't the first time a person has woken in a morgue. Must... type... next... word.... Phew. This survival lark is hard work.
     
    Tip number five. Eat Well. Oh I shall. I like my food. Especially the tastier stuff I can't afford.
     
    Tip number six. Get Some Lovin'. Yes well you see - this is the sort of advice that really does ignore the realities of being an old codger. It's all very well persuading that young lady to allow you to embarras yourself, but I'm also old and wise enough to know what sort of grief I'm going to get. Still, there's no fool like an old fool, so I guess I'll just have to compensate for my waning love life and become a famous celebrity instead. Who knows? Maybe I could combine the two like Bruce Forsyth.
     
    Tip number six. Do Something New. Like what? I'm fifty. I've done pretty much everything I set out to do when I was younger and if I were brutally honest, bungee jumping is never going to be my favourite pastime. Maybe I could make it more interesting? How about... Bungee jumping with a young lady strapped on. Now that would be something new, and also kills two birds with one stone. My worry is that she'll want to go faster.
     
    Tip number seven. Brain Fit. In other words, don't stop learning. Don't stop thinking. Take your brain for a trip down to thew newsagent every morning. Make it sweat with crosswords, quotations from shakespeare, and calculating the correct date for the end of the world. The trouble with doing this sort of thing is eventually you figure out what an idiot you've been.
     
     
    Quote Of The Week
    The best way to become famous is to invent a new dub two step.
    (Youing L, 2011)
     
    Well there you have it, budding starlets. No more casting couch, no more silly television shows, no more endless signing sessions. Just pop down to the patent office. Fame and fortune will be yours.
  5. caldrail

    Wake Up!

    By caldrail,

    At some point, somehow, I must have upset my neighbour downstairs. I can tell what mood they're in generally by listening, given how much noise goes through the floorboards. Yep, he's slamming doors in the early morning. That means he's had hardly any sleep last night and wants me to wake up too. It's like living with a cantakerous alarm clock that speaks a foreign language.
     
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard you. Oh good grief it's not even nine o'clock yet. Time to roll over, shut those eyes, and snooze for a another hour or two. Does that sound lazy? Nooo of course not. I have lots of very important sstuff to do today and oversleeping is not recommended. Or possible.
     
    All Fair In Love And War
    I see that some are demanding that Gaddafi's son must have a fair trial. After all the hoo-haa of his father's demise, I'm sure the new lean mean still slightly green Libya wants to be seen as an emerging mature friendly nation. So I suggest giving him an hours headstart. Lock and load chaps.
     
    Don't Panic! Don't Panic!
    Late into the night I roused myself from the dull witted stupor caused by watching a Jackie Chan movie and fill in my paperwork for the fortnightly benefit claim. Except I couldn't, because the rucksack the papers were stowed in was missing. Oh no!
     
    People usually regard me as a well organised person. If only they knew. Yet I too am afflicted with a measure of chaos and absent mindedness like everyone else. Where is it? Where's my rucksack? Yes, I was having one of those little drama's that make life such a frustrating experience.
     
    Quickly I searched the house. Did I leave the folder or the rucksack anywhere other than its normal resting place. Nope. Have I been burgled? Please tell me someone hasn't managed to penetrate the stout walls of Castle Caldrail.
     
    Things like this always leave me feeling unsettled. Some people have an ability to shrug, roll over back to sleep, and nonchalantly make excuses the next day (and in all probability, get irate afterward when they don't get what they expected). Before I embarras myself with a call to the police there was just one possibilityleft. Maybe I'd left the sack somewhere else without realising...
     
    Yes. On Friday I strode away from the library completely oblivious to the fact my belongings were stuffed under a table. It's a wonder the library never held a bomb alert - that's what usually happens when suspicious containers are left unattended. Shame on you library. Mind you, thanks for not asking the army to blow my rucksack up harmlessly. That would have been a disaster. At least it would in my tiny little chaotic world.
     
    Right. Forms filled. Time to brave the dangers of the Job Centre and their man eating inhabitants.
  6. caldrail

    Little Accidents

    By caldrail,

    Sooner or later my cupboards are bare, and a trip to the shops is necessary to replenish my humble larder. That means spending money too. Disaster.
     
    As I started picking goods from the shelves it became clear that the elderly population of Swindon had also decided to do the same as me. Is this 'pension day' or something? Hordes of them, shuffling here and there, or standing confused in the gangways. I shouldn't be so critical of course - I'm only a sdecade or so away from becoming one of them.
     
    Oh make your mind up lady. Are you going to go left or right? No, you're going to stand there helplessly. Just as I'm about to politely ask to get by she shuffles a few feet forward. Then she stops again to try and remember where she wanted to go in the first place. Good grief, is that what's going to happen to me in a few years?
     
    As it happens not every old person is so afflicted with the ravages of time. As I approached the tills I decided which of the two was the quickest way out of the store. With the new robotic self service tills only one or two lane is manned by increasingly less helpful shop asssistants, and I can't stand using those silly robot things. I'll use this lane.
     
    Unfortunately the old folk had spotted my yactics and shuffled across in front of me. A little old lady virtually pushed me aside in her frenzied quest to get their before me. She looked up and shrugged "I was before him just now".
     
    Yeah, whatever lady. I had no choice but to wait my turn. A shop assistant enquired whether I wanted to use the robots and offered to put the shopping through herself. What am I? A helpless old person? Thanks, but no.
     
    Finally it was time to place my goods on the rubber conveyor. As I reached across for a plastic divider, my rucksack slid off my back and landed squarely on the little old lady who had nipped in front of me.
     
    "I'm getting pushed about all over the place" She moaned.
     
    Yeah. I know exactly what you mean. But I couldn't help laughing anyhow.
     
    Oh Shi...!!!
    I've just seen that stunning footage of a helicopter coming to grief in New Zealand. At least in this case the pilot was not seriously injured. I remember watching a news report of a larger helicopter crash somewhat more spectacularly in South Africa that didn't have such a happy ending.
     
    I've never trusted helicopters. Yes I know, conventional aeroplanes crash too, but not always. Like that airline pilot who got himself stuck in the toilet just before the jet was due to make a landing. At least he was stuck in the right place, so to speak.
  7. caldrail

    Helping Hands

    By caldrail,

    In the news lately is the revelation that employment law is to be changed to make it easier for bosses to fire their workers, the idea being to reduce costs of tribunals, mediation, and trade union intervention.
     
    That's all very well, but if my experience is anything to go by, bosses are already well capable of getting workers they don't want out the door with little difficulty. I've seen employers resort to chicanery and dubious excuses succesfully for some years. Those talents aren't going to go away simply because the rules are relaxed.
     
    I do realise these new laws are intended also to reduce certain abuses of the law. Fair enough. But it cuts both ways, and whilst I don't subscribe to the trade union movement, there is a case for their presence in the commercial sphere.
     
    It is interesting that some time ago I predicted that our ever-generous labour government would recreate the dark satanic mills of old, with hordes of manual labourers doffing their caps as a company manager wafts by in an expensive limousine (hybrid powered of course). How remarkable that a coalition government from the opposition appears to be following the same trend. Are we heading back toward another period of strict class society? Has the permissive society started to decline in it's old age?
     
    Eventually
    My spot at the library computer was booked. I needed only wait patiently for the woman already logged on to finish her session. Time then to read the local paper and sigh at the grim folly of crime, anti-social behaviour, and lack of vacancy adverts. Not quite the hundreds of jobs the paper claims to advertise.
     
    I heard a quiet ding!. Five minites left until she must log off, or have the computer dump her back into the real world whether she likes it or not. It's the same for me of course. The library lets you have two hours a day maximum.
     
    She was busy. The phone rang and naturally she had to answer it. Her unfinished document was on the screen as those precious minutes ticked by. I idly wondered if she was going to get all stressed out if her work was lost.
     
    "How do I print this?" She asked. The kindly gentleman in the next cubicle showed her how, but like any well intended technophobe, she asked me as well for confirmation and emotional support in her time of need. Yes, dear, click on that. Go on, do it!... Now!... No, not that one, this one... Yes, that one....
     
    With the crisis heading for a mention on the evening news the librarian bounded across to assist the woman with a friendly offer to print her document from the administration account. So she walked away from the screen leaving behind a mountain of personal belongings heaped across the desk.
     
    There we go. The computer logged her out without mercy as it inevitably does. My name appeared on the screen, declaring my ownership of the computer for the next two hours. Except all I could was stare at mass of stuff obscuring the desk.
     
    The gentleman on the next computer probably noticed my exasperation. It doesn't do to touch other peoples belongings even in time of dire need. There such things as security cameras. "Are you going to use that computer"? He asked.
     
    Eventually.
  8. caldrail

    The Strangest Things

    By caldrail,

    People do say the stupidest things sometimes. I should know.
     
    "I wish someone would take him away" Muttered one self important lady as I minded my own business with a library book. Her friend obligingly tittered at the supposedly witty request. Carry me away? Sorry dear. Health and safety. Wouldn't want anyone to hurt their back.
     
    As it happens her attempt to socially exclude me sort of failed. It's called not giving a hoot, lady, although normally I use a stronger rude word. Quite why I'd want to be her friend perplexes me. Why would I want to titter obligingly every time she made a wish? Go away you silly woman... Oh dear... I think I might have inadvertantly excluded her socially... Oh well. At least this book is interesting.
     
    That's not the only example. One of neighbours has the strange habit of shouting "Learn to play first!" each and every time I start playing a guitar. Each and every time. What is she, an android? Programmed to heckle me to simulate live performance? Can you imagine what having sex with her is like? Might need a foot pump.
     
    Talking about women you wouldn't want sex with, another neighbour last night attempted to sing Silent Night in polish. I blame Simon Cowell. Now everybody thinks they can sing.
     
    Green Men
    For some reason my last blog post vanished into outer space. Unlike NASA, I didn't spend millions of dollars on it, so I'll just have to repeat the exercise, safe in the knowledge that it won't affect my dole payments or finances.
     
    Over the weekend a new mission to Mars has blasted literally a ton of expensive scientific equipment toward our neighbouring planet on a quest to discover if life ever happened there at all. Since humanity appears to measure the existence of life by the extent of nighclubs and other social venues that open late, it looks as if the empty red deserts of Mars rather rule out that possibility.
     
    It's been asked on television why we're so obsessed with Mars, and even worse, finding anything alive on it. Ever since Schiparelli thought he could see canals on the martian surface, we've been inventing inhabitants that basicially conform to one or other of two ideas. Firstly, that the martians are living on a dying world and must expand to ours, an enterprise usually confounded by square jawed hollywood heroes, a few screams from their female love interests, and the occaisional assistance of the common cold. Seconfdly, that the martians are dead and gone, leaving behind mysterious machines and ruins to present our heroes with puzzles and terrors. It seems deserts resonate in the human psyche with ideas of failure, abandonment, sterility, and psychological emptiness. Or more likely, that deserts are really boring places to spend an evening.
     
    So I guess our obsession is borne from a desire to find somewhere new to dance the night away. But why are martians always depicted as little green men? I mean, if no-ones actually met a martian UFO driver, how would we know? Funnily enough, the same problem also occurs with those supernatural folk that frightened our medieval ancestors witless. Those little folk were often green too.
     
    By now the conspiracy theorists are no doubt claiming that aliens have been visiting Earth at least since the middle ages based on what I've just said, but why the heck would an intelligent interplanetary civilisation want to visit the middle ages for anyway? There wasn't a decent nightclub at all back then.
  9. caldrail

    Out For Blood

    By caldrail,

    Tis the season of dreary grey weather. All the neon signs have been attached to lamposts in anticipation of that supposedly magical commercial festival at the end of the month, not to mention a small village of wooden sheds for a temporary market in the town centre.
     
    Come to think of it, for some reason the public have decided that filling the streets was a good idea. If that was because they had time to spare while they were on strike against government cuts, then it's something of an eye-opener. I mean, what do all these public-sector workers do when they're not shopping?
     
    It was just my luck to try and pick up a few snacks at the supermarket right in the middle of Walk Slowly Day. Oh curse my rapid gait! No. Forget that. Curse you pedestrian! I dunno, filling up the pavement with idle memvbers of the public? What is the world coming to?
     
    Oooh no wait. As I type this tirade against mindless meandering a council bird handler is walking outside. He's got some bird of prey with him to tackle the menace of pidgeons, and what a lovely animal it is. Don't know the breed. Sort of black with brown and white trim. Yes, the pidgeons have realised the threat. There they go. Well done that bird.
     
    That's it! That's the solution to all those pedestrians blocking my progress. I need a bird of prey. Darn. If only giant pterodactyls hadn't gone extinct.
     
    Don't Worry mate
    Jeremy Clarkson is in a spot of bother right now. The BBC have issued an apology for his comments about yesterdays strike action, which oddly enough was more or less the same as my comments except I used a few less firing squads. Can't see any news item about the BBC issuing an apology for what I said though. That sort of discrimation is typical of the public sector television company and gosh darn it I've had to fork out another hundred and fifty quid for a license to watch them issuing apologies.
     
    You have my sympathies Mr Clarkson. As for Jon Trickett, Labour's shadow minister for the cabinet office, please do shut up. It's over. It achieved nothing. And I'm no better off.
  10. caldrail

    The Price Of Fame

    By caldrail,

    Boy oh boy am I in a bitchin' mood. I guess you too sometimes feel that when the world reveals itself as being layered in pooh, which if you think about it, happens to be pretty much the case. But I'm not interested in your woes right now. This is my blog you know.
     
    Among the many comments and appraaisals I've received of late is the opinion that I'm not funny. Oh. Sorry about that. It depends on your sense of humour of course, but it hasn't escaped my notice that the very same people who accuse me of 'not being funny' are the very same ones who fall over laughing when I pass by. Go figure.
     
    The other opinion offered last night was some young fella who reckoned he was getting sick of me. Why? I have no idea who that youngster was or where I've encountered him. Now either I'm suffering from alzheimers or he's so insignificant I didn't notice when I passed him by. Guess he should have laughed louder. The thing is, as I always say, if people talk about you, you're famous. So last night was my five minute fix for the night. Sorry, no autographs.
     
    Second Class Service
    It came as no suprise to watch the news last and find that the big four supermarket chains in Britain are getting up to shabby tricks to increase profits. Sorry, but that's what it is. Only the other week I spotted bottles of black pepper for 69p each. Bargain! Or so I thought. When the lady on the till announced how much I'd spent in total I was a bit suprised. Well... Perhaps I miscalculated....
     
    As it turns out my mental arithmetic was a bit better than that. The problem with shabby tricks is that they're always played when you're lulled into a false sense of security. As for the black pepper, it turned out the actual price was
  11. caldrail

    Old News, Cold Facts

    By caldrail,

    The other night I was finished with my bad mood and instead became sort of reflective, thinking about things I'd done in the past, things I should have done in the past, and basically having a sort of middle aged moment. Not suprisingly I thought of my time as the drummer in Red Jasper.
     
    It's funny how unique we were as a band in those days. First there was me. Never had a drummer been so reliable and still scary when I drove the van. Then there was Carlos Santana wannabe Robin Harrison. Never had a man achieved so much by doing absolutely nothing. His compatriot, Tony Heath, who played anything we needed him to. Never before has a band member risked getting sacked for pretending to be in the band. Singer Dave Dodds, who became a success by avoiding the truth religiously, and the dastardly Pat D'Arcy, who remains the only person ever to be completely unsuccesful by trying to be the only band member who did anything.
     
    Where are they now I wonder? As for me the truth is out. You only need to read this blog. Robin and a few others we knew from those days are still performing. Pass straight to Go. Do not collect
  12. caldrail

    Happy Tunes

    By caldrail,

    There was something different about the supermarket yesterday. The building was in the same place, still the same pastel yellow walls and off white polystyrene roof tiles. Still the same range of products more or less where they were the last time I was here. Even a few seasonal products in highly visible red packaging didn't explain my sense of foreboding.
     
    Got it. Music. Hard to miss it really since it was being played somewhat loudly. Mind you, calling that cacophony 'music' is stretching things a bit. Each song was identical, upbeat tempo's, plentiful tambourines, and happy go lucky melodies. Now that I think about it, the problem isn't really the supermarket at all.
     
    At the till I had a quiet word with the shop assistant. Could you tell the manager that we already know it's christmas? She blinked a couple of times, then realised what I meant. No, please, it wasn't that funny...Look, can I just pay for this stuff and go?....Please?
     
    Big Rocks
    NASA have been charting all the asteroids orbiting nearby and it seems there are thousands of big rocks hurtling around up there. That would be plausible of course, since Earth is lots of these rocks impacted together in the early days of the solar system, and any asteroids with stable orbits would still be orbiting instead of colliding. Still, it is worrying that we have so many Rocks of Damocles hanging above our heads.
     
    No-one seems to know quite what to do if any of these asteroids are discovered to be on a collision course. Most would be extremely damaging, to say the least, many potemtially with enough energy to wipe out our endangered species in spite of all those television campaigns to raise awareness. Come to think of it, humanity isn't exactly assurtred of survival in that situation either.
     
    By coincidence I was watching a documentary about a disturbing event in the stone ages. Neolithic farming communities had progressed toward prosperity using their new farming methods, and the older hunter/gatherer lifestyles had waned significantly. Settlements showed evidence of complex social structures, communal living, and sophisticated living. Yet all of a sudden, in a two to ten year span, they became cannibals.
     
    As a global society human beings do tend to be somewhat proud of their control over the planets surface, their vast networks of infrastructure and nests, and indeed, it seems to be a facet of succesful societies throughout history that we regard oursleves as masters of the Earth. Bow down and serve us, animals, lest we punish you for being so tasty to eat. But in what way are we actually in charge? As far as I can see from news of catastrophes around the war, humanity seems incredibly ill equipped to deal with the vagaries of weather, climate, and the occaisional geothermal disturbance.
     
    I've often said that civilisation is not an automatic quality of the human species. It's something that must be taught and encouraged, and even when we adopt 'civilised' living, we discover that the primeval barbarian is lurking under the skin. After all, our cats and dogs are loveablle family pets for the most part, yet their behaviour can turn feral very easily indeed.
     
    So what can we do to preserve our confortable lives in the event that an orbital rocks wobbles dangerously? Sadly, not much, although I suspect the survivalists will be very proud of themselves having invested in concrete bunkers and stocks of weaponry. At least, that is, until they realise no-one's making ammunition any more. I suppose we really do need to understand that humanity is not guaranteed survival, neither by divine decree, macho heroism, or superiorty complex. Civilisation is fragile, and in the natural quest for superiority in the enviroment, easily overturned by aggression and disaster.
     
    Okay, go ahead. Play that darn christmas music. Anything that preserves life as we know it. I must admit, those happy tunes do seem to be keeping the asteroids away.
  13. caldrail

    Empire? What Empire?

    By caldrail,

    Some would describe me as a eurosceptic. They're quite wrong of course, I'm a eurocritic. The shameless ambiton and manipulaton of some politicians intending to create a new european empire have been all too obvious.
     
    Paranoia? Conspiracy theory? It isn't just me who waggles a finger and warns about the actual intentions of the political initiatives to gain advantage from the current difficulties. Only yesterday I was watching a journalist voicing his opinion how France and Germany are trying to ignore the restrictions of previous treaties and dictate how the european economy will be run.
     
    The urge to unify Europe has always been hiding under the surface since Roman times, and in any case, where the potential exists for greater power, there will always be those who want to grab it for themselves, even if they have to create it first. It's no coincidence that France and Germany are both countries in the vanguard of these initiatives, as both had for a while at least, european empires of their own.
     
    Britains belligerent independent spirit tends to emerge whenever european empires make themselves known. That too is an inheritance of the past Naturally then I'm pleased that our glorious leader has stood firm and said no to pressure to bring our national finances under european control. Fight them on the beaches, Mr Cameron. After all, we once had an empire far larger than Hitler's or Napoleon's.
     
    Death Of An Empire
    While the clumsy struggles to create a european empire unfold around us, I saw a documentary on television that reminded me how fragile such empires can be. How such empires are often only possible by the sheer will of those that lead them. Not to mention the military force they can apply.
     
    The inner workings of russian politics is a rare subject to learn about in the west If it comes to that, I find it difficult to imagine Russia as anything other than the monolithic communist state that pointed nuclear missiles at me for most of my life. I am after all a product of my age.
     
    So I learned about the events in December 1991 when over a matter of days the Soviet Union passed into history, replaced by the confederation of independent states we see today, a tale of political manoevering, public demonstration, military deployment, and more than anything else a battle of wills between leading politicians on holiday at a country residence. The only way an ambitious Yeltsin could take power from Gorbachev was to remove the Soviet Union entirely.
     
    Wow. That's like getting a well paid job by blowing up your home town. And that guy had the keys to one of the worlds largest arsenals of nuclear warheads? No wonder they kept him drunk all the time.
     
    Where Is Russia, Exactly?
    As if the Russians hadn't enough to complain about regarding the dodgy goings on in their recent elections, now they're complaining that footage of demonstrations used by a certain american news program actually showed violence from Greece. Why were the Russians so worried about an American first strike scenario, or that cute missile shield they want installed in eastern europe? I mean, it's not like the US knows where any of the targets are.
     
    By the way. Avoid a greek package holiday if US-Russian relations hit an all time low. Just a little tip.
     
    Weather Of The Week
    Watching a global weather survey proved interesting. Temperatures in Britain have dipped close to those found in Moscow over the last few days. Not sure if that made me feel any better, but I had to laugh at a recent vacancy that was pushed under my nose recently. A sort of supply expert working for the territorials. I could learn lots of new skills like survival.
     
    I hate to break it to the army, but at my age the prospect of learning survival skills really doesn't count for a lot. I'm past fifty years of age, still here, still kicking, and able to cope with poverty and cold weather. My survival hazards have more to do with supermarket con tricks or over zealous claims advisors than cooking lizards in some arid wasteland.
     
    Talking about survival, not so long ago I made a comment about Scotland being used to snow and better able to cope than us southern softies. Well, I wasn't expecting nature to test scottish resolve with some furious weather like the scenes we witnessed on television over the weekend. I do sympathise, I really do. Back in 1987 I was driving a van while that hurricane struck. You don't forget that sort of thing very easily.
  14. caldrail

    Singing In The Rain

    By caldrail,

    It's misery month in Britain right now. never mind all tjhose predictions of economic woes and european isolation, it's raining. That might suprise a few people given that Britain has a repuation for damp weather, but you see, most of our dampness is down to showers which do have a habit of catching people out. Today however is wet. It will probably be wet all day. That means I probably will be too.
     
    Yes, It's Happened Again
    No I don't mean rain showers, but meteorite showers. The Gemenids are about to fall to Earth in a spectacular display over the next two nights and guess what - The skies are cloudy and grey. That always happens. Every time.
     
    I've realised that Britain will survive the next major meteorite strike on Earth by the simple expedient of hiding beneath rainclouds.
     
    Also Wet Today
    Unlike a famous dance sequence by Gene Kelley, I won't be singin' in the rain on the way home. partly because I wouldn't be seen dead with an umbrella, partly because I don't enjoy getting wet, but mostly because the police will probably arrest me for possession of a voice with intent to cause breach of the peace. Plus I'm not that good a dancer. More likely I'll be shouted at by irate motorists. And splashed with water from the gutter.
     
    Oooh look. The sun has come out. Yeah, okay, I've been caught like that before.
  15. caldrail

    At The Centre Of Things

    By caldrail,

    Where were you when Berlin Wall came down? Where you when Princess Di had a bit of an accident? Events like those can be so important sometimes, even when you least expect it. At least they are to some people. I honestly can't say those particular events ever stirred me to remember the day but I'm sure you can think of those that do it for you.
     
    You might ask why I'm writing about them. Well it's because the news has broken that the CERN hadron collider at Geneva might have spotted the elusive Higgs Boson particle. Break out the beer chaps. This will be the day you talk to your grandchildren about. That should get them to sleep.
     
    Been There, Seen It
    I caught the second half of some strange film last night. No idea what it was. Not really sure what it was supposed to be about, although I've eliminated the Higgs Boson particle from my enquiries. It isn't often I see films from New Zealand. I think maybe I've been spoiled by the Lord Of The Rings trilogy.
     
    Mind you, I have to say I enjoyed the sex scene. I had no idea New Zealand had any lesbians. Good grief, I might drop by there again one day.
     
    Global Malarkee
    Also last night I saw one of David Attenborough's Frozen Planet series. This was quite late at night and I was stunned to see that people with hearing difficulties have to stay up that late to see the lady on the right translate it by sign language.
     
    There has been controversy about the series. Not for keeping deaf people awake in the small hours, but filming the birth sequence of a polar bear at a zoo in Holland. I do hear that David Attenborough is about to present his latest series, First Life, about the most ancient and primitive of life forms that began evolution, beginning the rocky path toward the arrival of Global Warming Conferences three billion years later. If he wants to save money, why didn't he film scenes in my kitchen sink? That's pretty primeval.
     
    Do we really need a Global Warming Conference? I saw a russian journalist stunned the other day when a scientist dismissed the entire proceedings as a gravy train and an unnecessary impediement to human prosperity. Yeah - that's what I said ten years ago. I wonder if the Canadians happened to see one of my posts on the subject? No matter. Congratulations to them for realising what a colossal sham it all is.
     
    What The?...
    Just as I was about to leave the house today I spotted snow. Yes, snow. The dreaded white stuff is cascading upon poor old innicent Swindon as I write this. We don't normally get any snow this side of the new year. Oh... Hang on.... It seems to have stopped. Was it something I said?
  16. caldrail

    Wishing For Things

    By caldrail,

    This morning's local paper starts with the headline about our dearly beloved ruin, the Old College site. Yes, it's still there. The issue is apparently no longer the number of rare and protected species of roosting bats, but whether the developer can be bothered to actually do anything. I mean, despite all the presentations anf fine words, there seems to be a distinct lack of progress in getting anyone to sign up to fill the new shopping mall to be built in its place.
     
    Now they're saying it won't come down until next spring. Is that the coming spring or the spring afterward? I just wondered. Wouldn't want to miss the big occaision.
     
    What I Want
    My stars this morning are short and to the point. Success can be mine if I admit what it is I actually want. Okay, that'll be one Ferrari please. Oh yes. Please remember to pull that Old College ruin down. That's my little good turn for the community.
     
    Talking of Ferarri's, I saw one of the newer ones parked down the hill just lately. I don't know the model name or number, but it's one of those 'science & maths' models as Jeremy Clarkson describes them. Who am I to argue?
     
    It did look impressive, I have to say, painted ivory with a black roof, basking in the adoration of pedestrians stunned that anyone would actually dare to park an expensive sports car in that part of town. If I parked something like in the yard behind my home, I'd be the owner of the worlds most expensive carbon fibre skip by the following morning. And that would get nicked three months later.So to add to my wishlist of things I wish for - please find those idiots who demolished my car and have them dragged by a Ferrari through a heap of razorwire.
     
    They say you should be careful what you wish for. Why? Because I might just get it? Fine with me.
  17. caldrail

    Security Of Tenure

    By caldrail,

    Now we know the security arrangements for the forthcoming 2012 London Olympics. The armed forces will keep the invasion of foreign athletes from conquering Britain. We certainly are going for gold.
     
    Seriously though, 13,000 troops? Attack helicopters? Jet fighters on scramble alert? A battleship on the Thames? I'm struggling to get my head around this. I agree there's bound to be a risk of terrorists making some explosive statement of their anti-whatever views, but this stuff is protection on the scale of a Hollywood thriller.
     
    Just what sort of threat are these forces expecting? Chances are any actual threat would be a small number of hostiles. I suppose picking out the terrorist from tourist isn't so easy but is it any easier from helicopter a thousand feet overhead? And if we do get suspicious characters wandering around London with backpacks, I sort of got the idea the police were already well capable of targetting them.
     
    Blown It
    Now that the US has packed its bags and booked tickets home after nine years of operations in Iraq it's time to reflect on what they achieved. I imagine many of my countrymen are making some scornful comments. It was saddening to see ordinary Iraqis interviewed by journalists doing exactly that.
     
    There is a plus side to it all besides the demise of Saddam Hussein. Apparently the terrorists are experiencng problems in finding volunteers for suicide bombing. Why would that suprise anyone? Almost everyone who was angry enough to blow themselves up has already done so. And what, exactly, has suicide bombing achieved except give a few fundamentalists the chance to make a home video?.
     
    Now I hear that an Iranian has been caught red handed at Moscow airport with loads of radioactive material. The Iranians have always maintained that their nuclear power program has no military purpose. If they carry on like this, they'll be inviting the americans to drop by for the regime celebrations. I mean, it's not like they haven't been warned.
     
    Temper Temper
    A few times recently I've watched the hot debates on Prime Ministers Question Time. For those that don't know, that's not a current affairs program, but televised government proceedings that occaisionally get aired when terorists aren't blowing things up or the Eurozone manages to keep its balance.
     
    I've had some dismissive things to say about David Cameron, our glorious leader (who I note isn't appearing alongside coalition partner Nick Clegg much anymore), but I was struck by the somewhat amateurish performance of the arch-enemy, opposition leader Ed Milliband. It's understandable that he tries to diminish government performance and criticise the Prime Ministers decisions and policiies - that's democracy - but having made his accusations he sits there fuming that his opponent is ripping him apart, making scornful comments while the microphones are elsewhere. Eddy baby, chill out man. Your crowd won the Feltham & Heston by-election. What more do you need? A good turn out?
     
    Safety First
    Last night the weather report was full of dire warnings of snow and strong winds. No sign of it this morning. The ground is wet mind you, but what a nice sunny day. Elsewhere in Britain it's a different matter. A short while ago I saw interviews of various people in Wales. Not in the usual urban setting, but on a path toward the peak of Pen-Y-Fan.
     
    I've been up to the summit of the highest mountain in South Wales myself in my younger days, although in fairness that wasn't during winter. Two lads with skis and snowboard enthused about the possibility of getting some fun and promptly headed for the slopes. Then we met a chap from the local mountain rescue team. "A lot of other people may want to visit wild places too," The interviewer suggested, "What would you recommend on days like this to keep yourself safe?"
     
    Immediately the mountain rescue man almost smiled at the chance to ram some commonsense down the throat of the british public. "Warm clothes, stout boots, goggles, map, compass, thermos flask, food, whistle, torch, crampons..."
     
    And so on. Needless to say I had almost none of those things the day I went up there. I doubt any of todays visitors will either. Mostly because the vehicles necessary to transport all their expedition gear to base camp won't be able to cope with snow.
  18. caldrail

    Oh No... Not Again...

    By caldrail,

    By chance I bumped into the boss of the museum in town and we had a chat. Normally he's buzzing around here and there sorting things out, so it was great to discover I've been working for a human being.
     
    The conversation eventually got around to things christmas. I'm a spiritualist, he's an aetheist, and funnily enough neither of us has any problem with that, unlike the christian who works there. She goes into a strop every time Jesus isn't treated with absolute reverence by everyone.
     
    Lo and behold what do we find? Our glorious leader, David Cameron, announces that Britain is a christian country and the world would be a better place if we all queued up on sundays. Of course he added that other faiths should be respected too, and that if christians feel secure about their faith, then others won't be interefered with.
     
    I fall off my seat in hysterics at the idea that Cameron is emulating the Roman emperor Constantine in using a religion to do his dirty work for him. But what makes me far less amused is the assumption that christianity is automatically a more moral culture. It just isn't, and never was. Despite all the 'messages' and ideas about being nice to others, christianity was constructed to order for political reasons in the 4th century. Far from adopting the moral high ground it claims to own, anyone who encounters the adherents of Jesus' personality cult from outside soon learns how often Christianity forms a protective umbrella beneath which all sorts of dubious activity goes on.
     
    Hardly a religion with sincere roots, therefore, and both my boss and I agreed on that. Christians are often the worst people though in fairness they don't have exclusive rights to bigotry and spitefulness. There will be some people reading this who think that I should be... What's the phrase?... More tolerant given this is the festive season, but then, since when was Christmas a christian festival anyway? Birthday of Jesus? Check your history book. The rituals and customs of the festive season are descended from pagan beliefs.
     
    More Xmas Woes
    Those of you born some time around 1992 don't know how lucky they are. Partly because that's when I gave up being a drummer, but also because theuy're too young to remember the seventies. Now why, you might ask, are the seventies the cause of grief?
     
    Yes, it's those christmas songs from Slade and Wizard. Every year I have to listen to those two songs repeated endlessly. I'm old enough to remember when those singles first came out, and for nearly thirty years, I've been a victim of music abuse.
     
    It isn't just that the rest of the world seems utterly immune to the trauma-inducing effects of seventies christmas singles, but rather that despite my best efforts, I finally succumbed to bad luck over the weekend and heard both songs. I might need some time to convalesce.
     
    Anything Else?
    So is anything else happening in Caldworld? Erm... Noooo.... Not really. Even the lady behind the desk at the Job Centre was politie and pleasant on my last visit. It's Swindon, Jim, but not as we know it.
  19. caldrail

    In And Out

    By caldrail,

    Festive season or not, I am still unemployed, and therefore my jobsearch continues. It's continued for so long now that it seems almost like a job in itself. As long as I achieve my targets and objectives on a regular basis I get regular pay. In fact, the only real difference is that instead of one all important boss, I attend an office full of them. Or at least it would be if I could get through the door.
     
    The programme centre has a push-button intercom through which you must attract someone's attention and persuade them to unlock the front door remotely. As if my life long struggle with doors was not enough, now I seem to be stuck with a lifelong struggle with doorkeepers.
     
    The six options on the device always change between visits. I suspect it's some fiendish plot to make claimants use their brain once in a while. One of them opens the door, after a brief verbal contest, so it's just a matter of getting used to apologising, successfully deducing the correct choice from the tiny handwritten clue next to each button, or simply getting lucky.
     
    As it happens the economic downturn has made this quest somewhat simpler, as the various agencies employed by the government fall by the wayside. Once there were six options. Now there are twp. Which one? This? Or that? Help, this is too difficult for a claimant. We're not used to making decisions in our regulated 'do as we tell you' world!
     
    Out of nowhere appeared a Man-In-Grey. You must have come across one or two of those bog standard office types in your time. I think they're factory made in China. Anyway he ambled up to the door and appraised my efforts in attempting to gain entry. Clearly I didn't impress him with my negotiation skills. And since the door refused to budge even after persuading the tinny disembodied voice that I was supposed to be in there. I don't think he was impressed by my futile rage.
     
    "You just need to wait a second" He advised me helpfully. Mate, seriously, shut up. This door and I are arch-enemies. I know it better than you do.
     
    Nonetheless he took no notice and pushed a button with that quiet calm confidence guaranteed to irritate lesser members of the human species. He too answered the voice and asked for access. Then he waited for a second. Then a few more. Then pressed the button again. Eventually he leaned forward and spoke into the grill "I'm not able to access the building".
     
    Once Inside
    Is anyone else having a frustrating festive season? As soon as was allowed into the programme centre I was informed that I should go home and wait for a phone call, because with the economic downturn there's only one eigth as many staff there as there was originally. That was nothing compared to yesterday. I foolishly made the mistake of choosing the same time as everyone else to go shopping. The queues at the supermarket - not a building known for generous space to begin with - looped around the shelves.
     
    Excuse me?... No, I just want some chicken nuggets on special offer... What?... You want to get by?.... Erm....
     
    Once Outside
    Homelessness has gone up by 13%. 70,000 children in Britain are sleeping rough at Christmas this year. Up to thirty years can be knocked off your life expectantcy by homelessness. We do tend to step over people who fall by the wayside - I'm no different - and according to the shelter representative interviewed on the news just now, it can happen to anyone.
     
    So I guess I'll have to be thankful for the roof over my head, even if it isn't as warm as I would prefer it to be.
  20. caldrail

    Xmas Pooping

    By caldrail,

    Yes, it's that time of year again.For those who haven't noticed, we're fast approaching christmas, the traditional time of year for falling drunk off railway station platforms, smiling at people you've never met before, and finding out that someone is using your home as a convenience store. It's also the traditional time for pretending we believe that some old fat guy is going slip down the chimney and leave those perfects gifts for all the family that the television adverts have assiduously persisted in showing us.
     
    All I get in my chimney is nesting pigeons. As for dreaming of a white christmas, it's raining out there. A lot. The car park behind the min shopping street is one shallow river at the moment.
     
    If I sound like a party pooper I apologise, but then, if you want to enjoy yourself, why do you need an excuse? Why should we need a tradition dating long before Britain was invented? It's not as if Christmas is all that traditional anyway. So therefore to make life bearable and fun, I present my production of....
     
    Caldrail's Inevitable Nativity
     
    Joseph - Good evening barkeep. A room for the night please for me and my pregnant wife.
     
    Barkeep - Sorry. All booked solid.
     
    Joseph - Look, I've tried every other inn in town. Couldn't you squeeze us in somewhere? Please?
     
    Barkeep - Sorry mate, but you should have booked ahead. We've been advertising on our website for months.
     
    Mary - Aaaah!
     
    Barkeep - You all right miss?
     
    Mary - No I'm not all right you idiot! I've going to have a baby.
     
    Customer - Hey! This a barroom. No babies allowed. She shouldn't be in here either.
     
    Joseph - Do you mind? My wife is going to give birth to the son of God!
     
    Barkeep - Son of.. God? Wow... We've never had a visit from a divine presence before. I have to admit mate, you're not exactly impressive.
     
    Joseph - No not me you fool, it's... Well... It's a long story. Isn't there a barn or a stable where we can sleep overnight?
     
    Mary - .It's going to look a bit ridiculous if the son of God is born on a barroom floor.
     
    Barkeep - Yeah, okay, out back. Mind the animals and don't make a mess of the straw. I'll send for a midwife. No extra charge.
     
    Joseph - Yes yes yes, thank you. Come dearest. Let's find ourselves a comfy spot in the stable.... Ahh! Here we are. Set yourself down.
     
    Mary - What? Here? There's dung all over the floor, it smells like a cows ass, and you know I'm allergic to pollen.
     
    Joseph - Can we not argue about it now? It's very scenic and this stable will make a wonderful picture in our family album. Oh look, here comes the midwife.
     
    Midwife - You the husband? Out! Get out! Men aren't supposed to be present at childbirth.
     
    Joseph - What? The donkey can stay and I can't?
     
    Midwife - The donkey's more use if we need to pull the baby out.
     
    Joseph - I just want be of some use.
     
    Midwife - Then get a shovel and clear up this dung. Look at this stable. What a mess. Typical bloke. Can't keep a stable tidy.
     
    Joseph - Hang on, this isn't my property.
     
    Midwife - From what I'm told it isn't your child either. Out!
     
    Joseph - (Sigh) Guess I'll just have to wait outside then. Wait.. What's that shaft of light? Why do I hear a heavenly choir?
     
    Angel of the Lord - Just me mate. Sorry to bother you, this being a private family matter and all, but his nibs decided that if that baby is going to be important, he needs to start at an early age. So I got roped in as the celebrity host.
     
    Joseph - So my child really is the son of God?
     
    Angel of the Lord - Yeah. Sneaky so and so, isn't he? Worse than a milkman. Hallo, who are these three suspicious characters?
     
    First King - We are three kings of orient far. We have followed the guiding star to be here, tonight, in the presence of this most solemn and majestic occaision.
     
    Second King - What a journey. No end of hassle. I swear that's the last time I go chasing astronomical phenomena.
     
    Third King - Yeah, and if we wait here too long, our people will rebel and install new transitional governments.
     
    Mary - Hoo hoo hooo hooo unnnnngh AAAAAARGH!
     
    Midwife - Keep pushing...
     
    Joseph - You all right in there?
     
    Donkey - EEEEEEH-AWWWWWW
     
    Jesus - (slap) Waaaaaaaaaaagh! Waaaaaaagh! Waaaagh! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!
     
    Joseph - Huh?
     
    Midwife - It's a boy.
     
    Angel of the Lord - Congratulations Joseph. Here, have a cigar.. Wait a minute... Midwife, did you just slap the son of God?
     
    Midwife - Don't tell me how to do my job Angel. Your wife's fine, Joseph. Baby's healthy, except for a strange inexplicable glow, but I'm sure that will wear off in a few hours. Right, now about my fee....
  21. caldrail

    One Step Forward And...

    By caldrail,

    A long time ago, I was asked a simple but searching question. Robin Harrison was the aspiring guitar hero of Red Jasper who tried to seek enlightment having listened to my own angry hard rock riffs. Not because he thought he might learn something meaningful from my own interpretation on what constituted music, but rather because he couldn't understand why I was so utterly entrenched in one particular style. Especially since I was a drummer and therefore had no legal reason to be playing a musical instrument at all.
     
    Who am I trying to kid? He was seeking an opportunity to appraise and hopefully criticise. He couldn't compete in that narrow genre I'd adopted. Ever the competitive type, he wanted a different battlefield. His need for status demanded he found some form of elevated niche.
     
    "So..." He interrupted me in between chords, "What do you play when you're feeling mellow?"
     
    My reply was that I never felt mellow. I wonder if he ever really understood that? We both had stars in our eyes in those days in one way or another. He wanted to be the acknowledged artiste whereas I wanted to demolish the brick wall that had caused me so many headaches over the years. No, more than that, I wanted to express anger. To as many people as I could sell records to.
     
    Funnily enough I was in a mellow sort of mood just the other day. It's taken a few decades but I guess that's just another part of growing old. By strange coincidence I also happened to be playing guitar. So the answer to Robin's question is that I finally played something mellow. That's what music is. A form of expression. It was a shame I only had one thing to say back then.
     
    Not Cold Enough?
    So far this winter I haven't needed to wear gloves. That's quite stunning really. Where's the sharp frosty mornings, the freezing fogs, the sight of my own breath? Currently my home's central heating is switched off - that's how mild it is right now - though in fairness I am wrapped up warm.
     
    Seeing as I look like a down-and-out, a sort of Scott-Of-The-Living-Room, I also notice the absence of reminders on television on the plight of the homeless this year. Obviously things aren't cold enough for the average person to show any concern. DW, our intrepid online journalist, dutifully spent a night sleeping rough to raise awareness in a publicity stunt. It must be said he didn't suffer unduly. Not only was the weather relatively mild, he was provided with warm bedding and a rather attractive young lady to warm him further. It isn't often I'm envious of anyone sleeping rough.
     
    My Year Ahead
    Of course the risk that I might end up homeless myself is something I won't ignore. Therefore my job search continues. Even over the festive season too, please note. I see on the newspaper headlines that there are on average twenty three applicants for every vacancy here in Britain. More than forty for customer service roles. Looking ahead then it's entirely possible that I'll be unemployed for a while yet.
     
    That doesn't mean I intend to surrender. Anyone who thinks I'm just going to give up and return to being boring old Mister Caldrail will be disappointed. I haven't been Lord Caldrail for the last two years for nothing. As my psychometric tests reveal, I'm an individualist (What? I needed an expert to tell me that?). So much of my self-expression has been vandalised or stolen that I really don't have anything left.
     
    As for those youths who keep telling me that I've gotten my just deserts, I have to say I haven't the slightest idea what they're talking about. Kids... Pfah! ... What do they know? Go away and discover girls.
     
    As for those who shouted that they get their food for free, well good for you. I'm not concerned with the details of your life in any way at all. After all, you had to shout to bring it to my attention which means it wasn't remotely interesting in the first place. However, if you turn out to be the ones dipping their fingers into my larder, I'll make sure to send you the bill. Only a matter of time.
  22. caldrail

    Looking Ahead

    By caldrail,

    WOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOO!
     
    It's 2012, people!
     
    Yeah....
     
    2012....
     
    Come to think of it, it doesn't feel like a very special year yet. The rain is falling, the wind is howling, and I've been sticking draught excluders in every crevice of the house. I suspect most people are starting to realise that 2012 might be as dull and boring as 2011. Now that they've acquired the obligatory hangover and a few traffic cones to decorate the home with, it's Back To Work Day.
     
    Bet you're feeling better already.
     
    Not So Bad
    Not everyone found the last year quite so dull. There's been plenty of natural disasters and one or two documentaries to remind us of earthquakes, volcanoes, tsumanis, and the occaisional strong wind. Despite many attempts to galvanise the world into protecting the enviroment, ice caps are still melting, temperatures are still rising, the Euro is still wobbling, and last year saw a record amount of illegal ivory siezed by african authorities. never mind. Britain's going to be okay. The Prime Minister says so. After all, what could possibly go wrong with the country hosting the olympics this year?
     
    Don't Mention The Olympics
    Now that I've thought about it, there's a lot of crosses to bear in the months ahead. For one thing those stupid olympics are happening in London this summer. Oh.. You already know that?... Sorry, but I hate bandwagons and no amount of televisoon adverts, newspaper slogans, and interviews with politicians are going to raise my enthusiasm for the endless coverage of athletes stretching their legs.
     
    You what? I should be patriotic? Don't get me wrong, I'll be as pleased as anyone else if we win a medal or two, but be honest - If we needed a major sporting event to make Britain great, it wasn't all great to begin with. Winning the hundred metres sprint or gyrating madly off a diving board isn't going to make the world a better place, is it?
     
    Calculations
    That's if the world is still here next year. We have that calculation from the ancient Maya to contend with. In december the world ends, so we're told, though we've had so many false alarms it's hard to believe that a bunch of guys wearing skirts, feathers, and unfashionable earrings were any more accurate in determining the fate of the planet. Not once did they mention global warming in their temple carvings. Or the London Olympics. Or Kim Il Jong. Absolutely nowhere on the sides of those jungle encrusted ruins will you find the horse that wins the 2:30 at Goodwood on saturday.
     
    Well okay, they are more or less right that the world will end, it's just that they were out by a matter of a few billion years. Rather like government spending plans I guess.
     
    And Looking Ahead?
    We can still hope there's something in this coming year to be thankful for. Maybe there's a chance of finding a television channel that won't show any coverage of the olympics? Maybe the world won't end in december? Maybe the sun will come out? Maybe an enployer will realise I'm perfect for that role I've applied for three times already?
     
    I have forgotten to check out my stars for the year ahead, so I have no idea what to expect. Hopefully that'll make 2012 a little more interesting.
  23. 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.
  24. caldrail

    Wind In The Writing

    By caldrail,

    Oh the wind did howl last night. Still quite blustery this morning. With nothing better to do today I feel a reminiscense coming on...
     
    Wind was one of the two obstacles to my flying in days gone by. A headwind was useful to shorten take off and landings, but too much wind and the little Cessna couldn't cope any more than I could. On one occaision I turned up to the airfield and the ground controllers allowed me to fly on the basis that the wind was aligned with the runway direction.
     
    Non-flyers don't usually realise this but strong winds when you're manoevering an aeroplane on the ground can by quite hazardous. If the aeroplane is facing a forty knot wind, even when stationary, the silly machine thinks it's moving at forty knots and is close to wanting to fly. That's why we flyers tie our aircraft down if left in the open.
     
    Nevertheless it was judged safe to fly so I signed the forms, wandered out onto the apron, went through the pre-flight checks, and taxied out to the runway threshhold. Clear to depart? Here we go then... No sooner had I opened the throttle than the Cessna shot up like an elevator. I have to say it was very impressive. Not sure it was all that safe - strong winds never are - but that was the first time I ever landed an aeroplane literally on the spot. And it wasn't a horrible accident either. Bonus. The plane just descended almost vertically and plopped down gently onto the runway.
     
    With a bit of luck there won't be anything descending vertically on me today.
     
    Sticks
    I saw a chap today getting around with the aid of two walking sticks. Inury? Illness? No idea. Yet when he came to the library stairs he lifted both and walked up without assistance. Oh yeah? So what are the sticks for matey?
     
    Who?
    Does anyone know who this Peter Andre is? Why are so many television programs made about his private life? I mean, if he was that interesting, surely I'd already know?
     
    Poem Of The Week
    The rain outside is falling
    Television's sort of boring
    No friends have thought of calling
    So instead I'll just start snoring.
     
    The wind outside is quite a gale
    My house begins to shake
    Though I try to sleep I always fail
    So instead I'll stay awake
     
    I hear the shouting in the street
    Perhaps I'll take a look?
    It's cold out there; I prefer the heat
    So instead I'll read a book
     
    Stirring tales of derring do
    Ttagedy to make you weep
    Bleary eyed by chapter two
    I finally fell asleep
  25. caldrail

    Significant Moments

    By caldrail,

    Last night I paused to look out into the yard behind my home as I often do before retiring to bed. This was in the early hours of the night and now that the strong winds across the country have subsided, there was that familiar spooky silence once again.
     
    I did notice an odd halo effect from the moon as the light refracted through the thin clouds hanging limp in the sky. It would have enough to stop superstitious medieval peasants in their tracks and even the lack of hollering from nightclubbers was noticeable.
     
    Although I tried to get to sleep, there's something about the cold air and warm bedding that makes that difficult if not impossible, especially as the morning drags on and a deeper chill takes hold. Not because of any discomfort I think, just the unfamiliar conditions. My dilemma wasn't helped by urban foxes. Usually I hear them issuing loud shrieks. This time it was a series of yelps. Quieter, in deference to the mod of the evening, but nonetheless impossible to ignore. I never cease to be amazed how a creature normally so covert can make such a nuisance of itself.
     
    Laying there in the gloom I naturally began to mull things over in my mind, like you do, and for some reason I began thinking of a certain lady I met a while back. You know, the usual idle musings, like where she is, what she's doing, whether she still remembers me. Most of us think along these lines sooner or later in our own privacy so who am I to break with tradition?
     
    I always found her calm, confident, contientious, and completely disarming. Also I couldn't help regarding her as downright sexy. There's nothing wrong with admiration, maybe a little flirting, and even infatuation can be harmless if you keep hold of the emotional reins. Nonetheless in the short time I spent with her I reached that point where a decision had to be made. Should I risk everything and make some foolhardy attempt to progress the relationship to the desirable conclusion? Or play safe and avoid socially awkward moments, outrage, scorn, or mockery?
     
    She knew I was making that decision. As those mental cog wheels began to turn she was was standing close by, watching me intently. In my younger days hormones and bravado often made the choice for me as they do with everyone else. To do otherwise offended the raw british working class need for rite of passage. These days I have other considerations. So I made my choice.
     
    There is a possibility she's reading this right now. Embarrasing? No, not at all, she already knew what was going on in that male psyche of mine. Rest assured that honour and reputation are safe. I smile to myself because - Well, I believe I made the right choice, and the truth is I don't see what I have to prove. The funny thing is that whichever course of action I'd decided on, it was always going to end with me thinking back to that moment.
     
    So I lay there thinking happy thoughts and waited for that darn fox to finally get what it wanted from the nearest female of the species. Maybe then I could get some sleep.
     
    Movie Moment Of The Week
    Picture the scene. Steven Seagal confronts bad mouthed bully in an alaskan bar. Usually this would be the excuse for fast paced violence that only Steven Seagal can do. Come to think of it, that's generally all he ever does in films. He isn't known for masterful acting nor does he ever seem to land a script that demands anything more than a grim focused expression before he deals lightning pain to the nearest unfortunate victim. But no, gasp, a moment of dialogue!
     
    "What does it take to change the essence of a man?" He asked in that odd whisper of his. Erm... Let me think... No, not sure I know the answer to that one. The threat of lightning fast violence perhaps? Just a guess...
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