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caldrail

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  1. caldrail

    Too Sexy

    By caldrail,

    Earlier today I saw a young woman ambling from shop to shop, dressed in her chosen summer wear, totally at a loss to comprehend why it wasn't baking hot under a blue sky. It was as if rainfall was an alien experience to her. So either she's a seductress from another planet sent here to spawn a new super-race with us lowly earth-beings, or she's suffering the same limited memory span that most of us do. Yes, dear, sometimes it rains. Even in Swindon.
     
    As it happens I think the rain is long overdue. Sunny weather is great as long as it isn't too hot, but Britain was never designed to be tropical. We keep getting warnings about low water levels in reservoirs so any rain at all is a good thing, unless you happen to be living in one of the areas suffering flash floods because of it, which I imagine might well adjust opinions somewhat.
     
    Thing is though - Whenever we get these sudden rainy days I invariably have to go somewhere and end up thoroughly drenched. Today is different. I've gone about my business and remained mildly damp. Perhaps this is a lucky day?
     
    Now I've never considered myself particularly lucky. After all, I've never won more than forty pounds on the National Lottery since it started. Then I start to realise that I'm not missing any body parts. Neither have I ever suffered a bad car accident. Neither have I been savaged by a dog, sat in an airliner about to be used as a missile, kidnapped by somalian pirates, or abducted by a UFO.
     
    Hi babe. Are you from Venus? Wanna share a Mars Bar? No? Oh well. Guess it isn't my lucky day after all.
     
    Too Sexy For My Planet
    Perhaps I should have checked my horoscope for the day. It says I shouldn't put myself down. Yes, I agree, that alien seductress has no idea what she's passed on. Or perhaps she does? Let's be positive. Perhaps I should have realised I'm too sexy for my planet? If only my horoscope had warned me...
     
    It is a funny thing though. We blokes are supposed to make the first move by law. Failure to make the effort reduces your manliness to the point of verbal abuse from the male population of your area, even though most of them haven't done anything either and desperately want to avoid the same treatment. I've encountered this so many times in the past. If a woman gives off the signals, then it's mandatory to make at least some attempt to spawn a new super-race. Failing to notice is no excuse.
     
    Of course a gentleman shouldn't tell. I usually remain silent about my love life though in my case that's enlightened self-interest. Husbands and boyfriends are notorious for violence when outraged. But, even in my poverty stricken middle age mediocrity, there are still contenders for that coveted scratch on the bedpost.
     
    Contender No1 - This is the one I've known for longest, though so far we meet infrequently. She's a busy lady, always doing something interesting that you hadn't expected, and I'll be honest, she is jolly attractive. I suspect she isn't difficult to please, but difficult to keep interested nonetheless.
     
    Contender No2 - This young lady sets off car alarms as she walks past. Don't get me wrong, she's got style, class, and is wonderfully understated. She's also the most intelligent of them and I think she's already cottoned on to what I'm after. Chances are she's already reading this right now.
     
    Contender No3 - A recent entry to this competition. Not especially pretty but plenty of character. She smoulders, she really does. In a way this one is like plastic explosives. Safe to handle provided you don't detonate her. There's something primeval about playing with fire, isn't there? It's the thrill factor.
     
    Contender No4 - Of the four, the most obviously sweet and innocent. I don't think under normal circumstances she would bother with me at all, but we keep catching each others eyes. So far it hasn't provoked a socially awkward situation. As a bloke, the pressure is on to provoke one.
     
    There you have it. The horoscope said I shouldn't put myself down, so I've given the world a little insight into the steamy sex secrets of Rushey Platt. Now you know I'm not gay. Okay? Now if only that mouthy idiot in the newsagent would learn to read, he'd know too.
     
    Oh. I forgot. Contender No5. Alien seductress who doesn't like Mars Bars. But like The Apprentice, there can only be one winner. Lady - you're dumped.
     
    Pleasure Cruise of the Week
    Last night I heard the news that a pleasure cruiser docked at Southampton was raided by police, who found a record breaking
  2. caldrail

    Too Sunny

    By caldrail,

    For the first time this year the museum left the front door open. That proves how nice the weather is getting. In fact, the museum likes to keep the door open because it persuades people to wander in. A closed door is very intimidating for the average member of the public.
     
    And they poured in. Four visitors this morning. Rushed off my feet I was. Taking money at the till, providing assitance to vistiors, answering enquiries from the public at the reception desk, preventing displays being nicked, and generally standing helplessly whilst visitors tell me their life story.
     
    Young L was a bit late in this morning. Another sign of a bright sunny day? Never mind, he bounded in through the door and proceeded to create his very own brand of audiovisual havoc which only he is skilled in providing. Ooooh look, it's the end of my shift. See ya!
     
    Sunny In The City Too
    So nice and warm is the weather that the pound has surged against the dollar. Not entirely sure what the significance is or whether it impacts on my own particular poverty, but hey, forewarned is forearmed.
     
    Too Sunny
    I've just spotted a news item that tells the public not to waste money in garages but instead do some basic maintenance yourselves. Good advice given the sort of rates garages charge these days. I would be only too happy to while away an hour or two preparing my car for the next mad dash here and there except there isn't any point. It seems too many people have been maintaining my car to suit themselves in the wee small hours.
     
    In fact, most softop cars are whizzing around town with the top down. Must be something to do with the weather. I've noticed a definite correlation between sunny days and wind in the hair.
     
    Most drive past taking no notice of me. However, one young lady stuck her finger up at me as she drove past. Charming. Haven't a clue who she is, so I presume she's jealous of my fashion sense, or is she upset that I'm not insanely jealous of her expensive silver BMW?
     
    There's been a lot of police cars parked around town just of late. Looks like they're enjoying the good weather too. Nice to see them getting out and about. Must be a dreary life filling in forms in an office.
     
    "Hiyah!" Came the call from across the road. It had to be Mr J. He's a colleague at the museum, a man for whom life is one long party from start to finish. Always here, always there, always yelling greetings across the street before rollerblading to work or meeting hordes of in-crowders for a lazy afternoon in the park for that all important business meeting.
     
    This is all getting out of control. Where's the damp grey days we know and love? I can't cope with this level of sunshine...
  3. caldrail

    Tooth And Claw

    By caldrail,

    Oh no! I've been so wrapped up in an interview this morning I've forgotten to do any job searching! Heresy! I'll be rendered destitute if the Job Centre finds that out (Please don't tell anyone).
     
    With that minor disaster in mind I popped straight down to the library for a frantic internet browse of the job sites. The library is often crowded at lunchtime, and sure enough, not a free screen to be had. I'll have to book one. None of the computers have got a two hour slot available for the next three hours, so it'll have to be an even more frantic search in half the time. Which computer?... Decisions... Decisions... Oh, I'll book this one. It's a quiet spot by a window.
     
    I got down there and found the desk cluttered with a pile of personal possession belonging to someone else. Have I got the right computer? Yes, my name is showing on the screen. I'll just move all this rubbish to one side so I can get on...
     
    "Excuse me!" Called an irate lady from the helpdesk. "I'm going to use that computer."
     
    Oh no you're not, I replied, and continued to shovel her belongings aside. How can one person carry so much garbage? What's it all for? No, don't ask, it's none of my business.
     
    "Don't touch my stuff!" She yelled. I took no notice. I've booked a computer and she can darn well accept I'm going to clear the desk. She rushed over and repeated her annoyed command. I simply advised her that that all I was doing was moving the 'stuff' to one side. Having no choice but to accept my boorish dominance of the desk, she grumbled and gathered the mountain of 'stuff', moving back to the helpdesk where Dragon Lady awaited her complaint.
     
    Of course Dragon Lady swept her argument aside like the true scottish lady that she is. Good for you, dear. But she still made a caustic joke at my expense as she walked past on another customers errand. Thanks for that. Can I get on with my job search now?
     
    Save The Tiger
    The television advert makes it all very clear. From around a hundred thousand tigers living in the wild a century ago, we're now down to four thousand, and they're still dwindling. It's a great shame, of course, and in spirit I support the efforts to preserve the wonderful beast.
     
    I had to laught though. The advert, in an effort to get the public to part with cash to help save the tigers, offered a cute cuddly tiger toy. Pardon? What's cuddly about a tiger? It's a dangerous carnivore twice my weight and strength. It could rip me to pieces if it wanted. What a silly thing to offer. As if I wanted a cuddly toy at all. I'd far rather have the real tiger as a pet, then at least burglars would be eaten. Hiow about that for saving a tiger? A good home, free food, and it helps law and order at the same time.
     
    You Started It!
    I just caught the news that North Korea has been shelling an island belonging to their democratic neighbour. Well, after supplying their armed forces with twelve thousand artillery pieces to threaten the border with the south, I suppose it was only a matter of time before North Korea decided to try them out.
     
    It's all a stunt though. Prod the south and claim you're defending yourself? Just another tactic to sustain the fantasy world of the dictatorship. The trouble is, all this sabre rattling is costing lives, and if my instincts are proven correct, there's going to be a much bigger casualty list before they're finished.
  4. caldrail

    Totally Ear Bashed

    By caldrail,

    Sunday morning and the rain has eased. Some might claim that was proof God exists, but I know different, because he wouldn't have foisted BFL upon the world. There she was in the library foyer, sat waiting to find her next victim. She smiled to herself as I scowled.
     
    Luckily Mr R opopped in. He's a regular at the library too, a cheerful chatty sort of guy who seems to spend all day there playing 'fruit machine' programs. Before he gets there though, he too runs the gauntlet of BFL.
     
    Too late. She's seen him, and in a swift move she pounces, launching into a conversation with me stood nearby desperately trying to avoid shrapnel.
     
    "I've had enough" She told him in no uncertain terms. Apparently her studies are testing her patience. In true generosity, she shares the pain by testing ours. No sooner had she realised that no-one was interested in her studies (it seems the psychology part of her social sciences degree course is paying dividends) she moved on to travel.
     
    You may not know this, but BFL likes train travel. No, really she does, I heard it from the horses mouth. It makes her feel in control, she says. Pardon? Has no-one told her the front compartment is for the engine driver? Also she regards a bicycle as a lonely means of travel, and coaches are the work of the devil.
     
    At last! The bells! The town hall clock sounds half past nine and the security guard opens the door for us all to rush inside in a mad desperate attempt to escape BFL first. She always takes the elevator. Partly because she doesn't like the stairs (yes, she told us that too) but also I suspect because she gets thirty seconds of conversation with other people who can't escape.
     
    Mr R climbed the stairs beside me and asked how I was. A bit ear bashed, but okay.
     
    Case Of The Missing Eunos - Chapter 2
    Never fear, Caldrail Holmes is still on the case even if the police have given up. So far I've eliminated Al Qaeda from my enquiries, and I still haven't found any evidence that UFO's abducted my car.
     
    "All he has to do is buy a Toyota"
    (Comment made on the street late saturday night 16-7-11)
     
    What an interesting comment. Normally I get reviews of my manhood, but what, I have to ask, is manly about Toyota's? Have you seen the local dealership? Packed full of mobility buggies in monotone colours designed to blend with the urban landscape, or perhaps the hair colour of their buyers. More to the point, why is buying a Toyota going make any more difference than other makes and models? Is that what the streetwise private detective is driving this year? Curiouser and curiouser.
     
    Have You Tried Our New Burglary?
    "Don't worry, we'll get in the next time he goes to town"
    (Comment outside the back of my home, 7:45am Sunday 17-7-11)
     
    Thanks for the heads up guys. It's nice to know that our friendly neighbourhood burglar is so publicly spirited to book an appointment. Sadly I'm going to have to cancel as I've just discovered that burglary is in fact illegal, and has been for some time.
     
    Political correctness means that we don't chop the hands off convicted thieves anymore. Nor, as science fiction script writers have predicted, do we transport criminals to an island where they can live out their lives in anarchic barbarity - though I do believe we tried that for a while some time ago. Obviously not a succesful policy for the government of the day as the criminals descendants tend to be better at cricket than us.
     
    The police don't seem interested. I guess there's not enough news headlines in it. Never mind. If they won't listen, I'll tell the whole world instead.
  5. caldrail

    Tough On The Top Floor

    By caldrail,

    The sound of heavy breathing made itself apparent as I sit here in the library. Poor chap sounds like he's going to expire of a heart attack before he gets to the second floor. I do sympathise, having to climb stairs all day at work too, but he's going to need oxygen at the top of this climb. He does make it to the top of the stairs, waddling slowly onto each step with weary persistence.
     
    Hang on a minute... If that was such a physical performance, why isn't he breathing deeply and resting? Instead he waddles onward. Now this begins to picque my interest. He approaches the nearest bookshelf, and instead of turning his head to search for whatever title attracted his attention, he turns his whole body stiffly, waddling on the spot. Don't mock the afflicted, Caldrail...
     
    Solo Performance
    KS didn't turn up for work today, and although I asked around, no-one at the department store knew (or cared) what had happened to him. My guess is he's gone down with the sniffles I had over the weekend. Nasty little bug that one. The former ambience of the stockroom has vanished,. I'm the only one working up there all the time. No more sounds of packing tape and merry banter. Just me and the air conditioning.
     
    After a while I realised that someone else was working up there too. One of the ladies was busy stacking clothes to take downstairs and she'd managed to creep into the racks without attracting my attention. Now that I was alerted to her presence, I asked her how she could stand working up here alone.
     
    "I like my own company" She shrugged. Okay, okay, I'll wander away, lonely as a stockroom assistant that floats o'er cardboard boxes...
     
    Little Things For Amusement
    J made his usual fleeting visits to ensure that I was still alive. During one he had a screwdriver in his hand. What's that for?
     
    "Oh this?" He said, "Dunno, just found it lying on the floor. Always finding stuff lying about." He shrugged, "Yesterday I found a spanner."
     
    Oh? Well, maybe you could throw these things at each other to keep people amused?
     
    "Yeah" Replied J with misty eyed visualisation of victory from the trenches of the cardboard no-mans land, "We could play Spanner Tennis."
     
    Chortle. You might might be sceptical, but believe me, after three hours of solitary tedium that was hilariously funny. He muttered something about the war going on and wandered off to lecture some managers about how a stockroom should be run, screwdriver in hand.
  6. caldrail

    Tough Sale

    By caldrail,

    I am by nature a morning person. Getting the work done first and leaving the rest of the day to relax or take care of life's little obstacles comes very naturally to me, even if I did oversleep a couple of days ago. One little obstacle occured yesterday. The phone rang.
     
    Normally all I get is an email telling me how sorry they are that the rest of the known uiniverse is far more suitable for that position than I am. It's a cross I have to bear. A phone call generally means an opportunity exists. So when the guy on the other end started asking questions with relation to a job application I'd made on his website, of course I was enthusiastic.
     
    Very quickly he dashed my hopes. My previous education meant nothing. Experience was worthless. Employers were looking for qualifications. No, worse than that.
     
    "If you haven't got the right qualifications they don't want to know" He told me, "It's a dog eat dog world out there. You could be unemployed for five, ten years. I 've seen it and it isn't pretty."
     
    Does he think I live on a different planet? I'm well aware of how tough the job market is. As it happens I'm also aware of how wothless all those obscure certificates can be. Besides, I have plenty of transferable skills. That's been drummed into me over the last few years by every course I've been on. I do try to be positive about finding work.
     
    "Yeah but as it happens we've got courses for people with your attitude."
     
    My... attitude?.... Now I'm getting irate. I'm not doing all this jobsearching stuff for nothing and as it happens I do consider myself concientious. He went on about getting a qualification in Typing Entries In Databases.
     
    Is there one? I know there's a lot of obscure certificates floating around out there but I seriously doubt another is going to make all the difference. The prospect of spending hundreds of pounds for more toilet paper doesn't appeal to me. More to the point, this chap was trying to persuade me to on the basis that I was in some way a useless ignorant loser doomed to failure.
     
    Yeah? Really? And how much commission is this guy going to earn now that I've hung up on him?
     
    Another Tough Sale
    On my way home ysterday I passed the old college car park. You see a variety of cars parked there, and not always the commonplace mobility buggies and school taxi's. Sometimes prestige cars rest their weary pistons there. Or vans bearing advertisements for traders you have absolutely no incentive to trade with. Yesterday however I saw something else.
     
    Normally customised vehicles fall into one of a few categories. Usually it's a bog standard car with as much of the options list as the salesman can persuade the driver to part money for. Occaisionally it's a bog standard car with a special paint job, such as that Aston Martin with a naked lady painted along the side, or perhaps even the Porsche 911 deliberately painted in wacky grafitti. Sometimes it's a piece of lovingly created automotive redesign, worked on for years as a labour of love and an excuse for divorce. Or simply just a youngster who thinks a spoiler and shallow tires makes him better than everyone else.
     
    But this? This was customisation on a whole new level of bodging. I have no idea what car was underneath all the added fibreglass and matt black paint job, which included red sharks teeth around the grill. It was a real in-the-flesh Mad Max special. I'm sure the owner is chuffed to bits with his ride and cruises around town with a big grin. At least until he tries to sell it.
  7. caldrail

    Tough Times

    By caldrail,

    For the third day in a row, the weather is gloriously sunny. A little bit chilly first thing, but you'd expect that, and without doubt it's going to get somewhat warmer later this afternoon. Time then to enjoy a hike into the English countryside? I think so, especially after my last signing-on at the Job Centre. I could do with a break.
     
    I suppose from time to time they get suspicious. They're used to people who claim for no other reason thatn to avoid doing anything else. Unfortunately, I do make a moderate and consistent effort to find work, which means the otherwise pleasant woman across the desk has gotten a little curious about my jobseeker record. This last time she was replaced by another woman, a matronly dragon of a claims advisor, who took the record books I had with me and promptly 'lost' them. She then interrogated me about my efforts and clearly had no intention of believing a single word I said to her.
     
    That sort of thing, for me at least, is deeply annoying and de-motivating. What's the point of filling in these books (as they require me to do) and then discard them in such a casual manner? For one thing, it destroys trust, and creates an adversarial atmosphere. This wasn't the first time they've done this sort of thing and from this moment on, I'm writing out a copy of my job search record before I go in. They still won't believe me, but all the same, at least I won't have to put up with that sort of humiliation and pressure.
     
    Science in Farming
    I was chatting to guy the other day who lives out in the countryside. He's lost interest in farming seeing as cereal production is so variable and that dairy farming can't compete in today's market. His father is of course a little upset about that because understandably farming is still very much a family concern for many. Out of curiosity, I asked him about driving tractors, seeing I've never been near one. He tells me it's all science now. Tractors are guided by GPS and all you do is input the co-ordinates of the field you want to drive up and down over. Still, just in case the farmer hasn't quite caught up with the twenty-first century, the makers considerately provide markings to show the driver which way round the throttle is fitted. Rabbit and tortoise.
     
  8. caldrail

    Toyota's and Toy Cars

    By caldrail,

    It can't have escaped anyones attention that Toyota are having some problems with their cars. The issues with accelerator and brake pedals have sparked deep concerns especially after the tragic crash in the US of a car whose brakes failed on the approach to a road junction.
     
    Before I go on about car production and road safety, I can't help noticing that the driver whose brakes failed simply prayed he'd drive through unharmed. Clearly God was on his lunchbreak that day, but that said, God helps those who help themselves. Why didn't he turn the engine off? Why didn't he try to downchange the gearbox? Why didn't he try the handbrake? Instead he merely closed his eyes.
     
    The answer is that he wasn't mentally prepared for such a disaster. I wonder how many of us are? As someone who used to drive sportscars enthusiastically, I know full well how easily people make poor decisions. That doesn't exclude me from being a klutz, I must point out, but at least I knew I was going to be one if I didn't watch out.
     
    It's rather like a woman driver I was told about a few years back, out driving during one of those nasty hurricane force winds we now get every autumn. She'd stopped at a junction waiting to proceed, and a tree next to her car gave up the battle against the wind. Pedestrians nearby saw the tree about to fall and warned the woman she was in danger. If she had moved a few feet forward or back she would have survived. Instead, she looked up in horror and then hid her head in her hands. Crunch. The problem was that she wasn't used to dangerous situations and hadn't learned how to react. In all probability, that was the first time she'd been in any serious danger in her life.
     
    Car Manufacturer In Serious Danger
    Now of course Toyota, just on the tail end of very shakey economic events, now has to live with the bad publicity of having to recall thousands of cars. They used to make some interesting cars but like many car makers, these days they concentrate on those awful eco-urban midget wagons, one model after another in enviromental and political corectness, all virtually identical to another. Has Toyota stopped designing cars? It looks more like they're simply building cars to plans drawn up by international agrrements these days.
     
    With fewer people believing government propaganda about Global Warming (Oh at last, see the light people!) one has to wonder if that will eventually impact on car sales. At the moment we're all being made to feel guilty about driving the things, made criminals of if we're not worried, and made beggars of for daring to keep up with the Joneses. But if car buyers lose their interest in enviromental issues - and they may well do if we receive yet another cold blast from Siberia later this week as predicted by yet more warnings of dire conditions to come - won't they find the latest mobile shopping trolley just a little bit dull?
     
    Anyone who predicts the end of the automobile is talking rubbish (hey, that was almost witty). Of course there'll be cars in years to come. What we might might experience is the death of the interesting motor car. It seems our politicians have conspired to reduce the fun in driving to the point where we don't bother getting the horrible degradable plastic buggy out of the garage anymore. Personally, I think they became hugely upset when they discovered their very visibly expensive luxury saloons were way duller than the plebmobiles. It took them a while to find that out didn't it? That's what happens when you sit in the back all the time.
     
    Come to mention it.... Glancing through the serried ranks of die-cast models on display in the shop just across the square from the library, I notice everything except the latest supercars was, on average, from the 1960/70's. What does that tell you about the modern production car?
     
    Today We Look Through... The Shop Window
    Early this morning I ventured out into the cold dark streets and strolled down the arcade toward my workplace. I became aware of the number of premises lit and active two hours before opening time, with a veritable army of cleaners pushing vacuum cleaners back and forth in bored resignation. They were all asian women, every last one of them. It seems the caste system is well and truly entrenched in our culture too.
  9. caldrail
    When I was a very young child, I saw that old comedy film where two steam engines collide head on. Without special effects, film makers in the twenties had no choice but to either show a lot of steam or do it for real, and that once, they did. I don't remember, but apparently I burst into tears. I suspect Hollywood wanted a different reaction but then again we british have always had a love affair with the steam locomotive. The news of a collison between trains in India doesn't reduce me to tears in quite the same way as it might have forty five years ago, but all the same, I extend my condolences for what was a terrible incident.
     
    There's been a number of documentaries about trains in India just of late. Whereas in Britain we found them unprofitable in the sixties and ripped up track all over the place in preference to roads, in India the railways are proving fundamental to their economic success, which is gathering pace. There's a wonderful old fashioned air to the way they operate their trains, carrying on exactly where the empire left off, and yet, despite any cultural limits and glass ceilings, they have a very open attitude to it all, as for instance women being trained as drivers. And the organisation of this huge and expanding system is still done on paper, just as it always was. The atmosphere of Indian railways is inescapable though I confess I've never witnessed it personally. It does have, regrettably, a reputation for a high accident rate.
     
    The frenetic pace of the Indian railway network is one thing, but compare that to the Tanzania & Zambia Railway. With a budget that vanishes into thin air, they struggle on with almost no maintenance. Track workers wander off to go fishing. Trains take days to cover a distance that should take hours. Locomotives stand rusting because no-one has any parts to repair them. An entire railway slowly falling to bits.
     
    But accidents will happen. Even in Britain and the US, where standards are higher, from time to time you will hear of a terrible disaster. Safety is a hugely important factor but no matter how clever you are, sometimes it just goes horribly wrong. If that sounded flippant, I apologise, that wasn't my intention. Because at the end of the day, it isn't a question of faking it on camera. The accidents are real, and people get hurt. It's often said we learn from our accidents. I hope so.
     
    Rainy Days
    The nearby RIAT airshow at Fairford is over, and once again the skies are quiet. As far as I know, there were no accidents, and given how unforgiving the ground can be and the proximity of aeroplanes to it when displaying to a crowd, that's something to be thankful for, never mind underlining the skill of the aircrew involved. All weekend I could hear rumbles and jet noises. Now there's a thing. With the current moves toward making military vehicles less polluting, could these same bureaucrats not make them quieter? It's good for the enviroment. Saves me getting distracted from searching the internet for jobs too.
     
    Last night I opened the back window for a breath of fresh air. The pallid clouds hung listlessly in soft focus layers of blue-grey, broken near the horizon by vivid tears of lemon yellow in the early evening. Sometimes you sense a mood. It's funny how sensitive we are to changes in the weather without realising. Sure enough, as Swindon became quiet and still, it began to rain. Not heavily, just a random splatter of large drops, but that sound of falling rain is oddly relaxing. Funny how rainy days make you sort of introspective for no apparent reason.
     
    The sound of a car somewhere around the corner was unmistakeable. That sound - tires locked and the car ploughing on due to momentum on a greasy asphalt surface. Any moment there's going to be a dull crunching sound....
     
    Not this time. The skid ended in a loud and harsh blast of the horn. A working class and youthful male voice responded with "**** off!".
     
    Yep, accidents will happen.
  10. caldrail

    Trenches And Treks

    By caldrail,

    Sometimes you just know something is different. it's a subliminal thing. You don't think about it, but rather it suddenly occurs to you that the world is not following the same old ritual. Such a minor epiphany happened to me last night. It was quiet. Too quiet...
     
    Now that my street is blocked by roadworks, traffic is diverted, and no longer uses the road to travel between the town centre and Old Town up the hill. At least most people are diverted. I've seen a few confused attempts by drivers of 4x4's and lorries to negotiate the full scale model of the Somme battlefield a few yards down from my front door.
     
    It makes you realise how much we do on autopilot. These people, who perhaps ought to show a bit more savvy when confronted with a road sign and a change of circumstance, are simply following their ritual too. They've probably driven up and down the road every day for the last decade.
     
    Mind you, it wasn't just the roadworks. The snow was falling last night too and that created an empty sort of ambience in Swindon. No-one wanted to go outdoors I suppose, but no-one was walking around, and as I looked out the back window last night, it was to a very festive scene.
     
    The presence of background noise in towns is so pervasive we just don't notice it anymore, unless you live on a busy road like I do, but even then it all becomes ordinary. After a day of workmen yelling and lorries engines vibrating outside, the peace and quiet was actually quite strange. Here I was in the middle of a town and nothing stirred.
     
    At least I'll be able to sleep for once.
     
    The Digging Goes On
    The brave and courageous workman using his jackhammer to dig up the sewer down the street has finally succumbed to the cold. They've now brought in another drill on a caterpillar vehicle with a hydraulic boom. There's quite an impressive trench along the road now, floodlit, and plenty of rusty metal panels holding the earthworks in place.
     
    More And More Stars
    I see from the internet news that astronomers have discovered swathes of new stars out there, mostly the lukewarm red dwarf ones that last the longest. Normally this item wouldn't be especially interesting because A - You can't see them without several radio telescopes in orbit, B - They're small and well behaved, and C - None of them are about to crash into the Earth and prove Hollywood was right after all.
     
    However, their claim to fame is that seeing as many are already 10 billion years old (Our sun is 4 or 5 billion years old and middle-aged - let's hope it doesn't have a crisis), then there's an extra probability of finding life on worlds orbiting them. Normally that would be fantastic except A - Virgin Holidays haven't managed to build a means of taking tourists there, B - Humanity has a habit of destroying newly discovered eco-systems, and C - it's unlikely they've evolved beyond something squishy that eats, bonks, and lacks any good conversation.
     
    But you never know. In any case, now that we've discovered all these places, how about discovering means to get there? How else can I buy Orion slave-women? Not so keen on salt-sucking monsters though. Just in case you thought I was completely chauvanistic.
  11. caldrail
    Having been so impressed with that new footbridge across the railway line, today I decided to head out for a hike in country. Get some fresh air, exercise, and a few cool pictures of no possible use to anyone. Of course I did the requisite job search at the library first. Always see to your chores.
     
    There we go. A bunch of cool pictures taken and time to head off into the hills. I did make a half hearted attempt to photograph a passing train, just for the heck of it you understand, but I wasn't in the best place so I abandoned the attempt. Not a problem.
     
    Fives minutes later an orange helicopter flew low and slow along the railway. Didn't realise photographing trains was actually illegal. How do those magazines get away with it? And the americans think railfanning is under threat in their country. We get pounced on by helicopter gunships.
     
    Back On Form
    I see in the news that someone is planning to make the entire town of Swindon a 20mph zone. That'll make it the safest town in the world won't it? Stolen cars will stand no chance of getting away at those speeds. Even helicopters fly in fear of speed cameras these days it seems. The thought does occur to me however that traffic jams won't get any better even with all these schemes being put in place manage traffic through the town. I mean, they're still arriving at 60mph aren't they?
     
    Never mind. At least Swindon is still on form. Back in the slow lane.
     
    Vice Girls
    Another news headline on the local billboards is that vice girls are back. Vice Girls? Are they a pop act? I mean, like the Spice Girls but sexy?
     
    Oh... I see... Ahem. Well you can sort of tell I don't indulge in that sort of service. I imagine it's only going to get easier for them too. After all, the helicopter gunships are currently busy chasing me away from railways.
     
    Condemned
    Sadly it appears that bovine tuberculosis is being spread by badgers so the badgers must go. As someone who enjoys the rare sight of wildlife going about its wildness, naturally that saddens me. It's easy for me to say that. I don't live in the country, and I don't have to deal with diseases that afflict farming.
     
    I remember walking past Wroughton Airfield once and seeing a badger impaled on a stick, left by the roadside for someone to see. There's a hardline attitude toward wildlife in some quarters, something I think our american friends particularly would understand. Where does expedience end and cruelty begin? I don't have an answer for that.
     
    It's no use complaining that our lads haven't enough helicopters in Afghanistan. We've got to keep our own green zones free of fundamentalist badgers and railway photographers.
     
    Ooops.. Oh No! Not Again!
    Every so often I make a complete pigs ear of making a simple ordinary everday action and look a complete idiot. Most of us do sooner or later, though I tend to when I'm sober. And today is no different. I crossed a road in town at the lights and intended to cut across the supermarket car park as a shortcut home. One quick leap onto the low brick wall, and...
     
    Having just arrived back in town from a ten mile hike I inadvertantly let my trailing foot drop. So I tripped, big time. In full view of the shoppers and drivers of vehicles on the road too. Hey, just another gig, yeah?
     
    I'd like to thank the driver of a passing lorry for looking to see if I was hurt. No-one else worried. They glanced over their shoulder while I screamed and fell headlong onto the pavement before continuing about their lawful business. At least the driver slowed down a bit. Cheers mate.
  12. caldrail

    Trouble At 'Mill

    By caldrail,

    Oh dear.... The floor of the warehouse is crumbling under the weight of the forklifts trundling back and forth. The builders are in, cutting gaping holes in the floor, filling them with concrete, and getting miffed when they discover lumps of cement nearby or a forklifter knocking plastic cones aside.
     
    The guy who fixed the electrics in our porta-palace finally finished wiring up our area today, and slowly (expertly) manoevered his cherry-picker out onto the main aisle, whereupon his platform got wedged thirty feet up on top of a stack of car parts. Oh we had such fun. Pass the beer mates...
     
    The car manufacturer that we share this warehouse with has appropriated a section of floor next to ours (and had armco barriers put in - thats fightin' talk mister...). Thats all very well, but now there's a huge stack of metal and plastic stillages containing car parts right next to a manual work area. Not quite acceptable to health and safety that... For now they're ignoring me jumping up and down, waving my arms and pointing. You can laugh, but you'll be sorry... You will....
     
    Promise of the Week
    AD, my mentor and boss (I base my entire life on his teachings) is aware of my interest in roman history, and mentioned a dig that took place near his home at a building site. The roman walls present were only twelve inches down! He's promised to bring me back a Roman tomorrow. I'm waiting AD.
  13. caldrail

    Troubles Old And New

    By caldrail,

    Today is the day. Today I face the Gestapo... Erm... I mean an important Customer Compliance person at the Job Centre. It's not something to take lightly. Already several people have had their money stopped for discrepancies in their job search, including FR, my old buddy from my glory days in local bands, who has chosen to become self employed again in the music scene after they stopped his money for forgetting to apply for a particular vacancy. I wish him well.
     
    "This won't take long." She told me as I entered the small interview room. Gulp. Show no fear, Caldrail.
     
    To my pleasant suprise I survived unscathed. It pays to observe the rules, regardless of whatever complaint you might have. The lady who got me to sign the contract observed that most of the veteran claimants on her books find it difficult to find work because they're either been unemployed a long time, or that they have specialist experience and struggle to find that niche again. She reckoned I fitted both categories at the same time.
     
    Perhaps. Thing is though I have to believe I'll come out the other side of this with gainful employment, if not quite the job of my dreams. As I pointed out I have plenty of transferable skills. I'm not sure knowing a bit of Roman history is going to land me me a well paid job, nor am I sure my skills at driving sports cars, flying Cessnas, and wacking the heck out of a drum kit night after night is going to help much, but you never know...
     
    Assigning Blame
    Why on earth was anyone suprised by the violence of yesterdays march by students protesting at the governments plans for tuition fees? There's always been a minority of anarchists in that age group who want nothing more than a chance to defy authority under the cover of an organised protest.
     
    It must be said though they made a mess of that building at Millbank, London. Like everyone else, I don't see the point of such blatant damage. All they've done is wreck the credibility of the student union's argument, but then, they weren't there to add support for the cause.
     
    I had to laugh though when Boris Johnson, our current London Mayor, refused to answer the questions of the television news reporter. It seems Boris warned there would be violence when the government plans were first revealed. Steadfastly he refused to identity himself with the aims of the march and referred to it as a legitimate protest ruined by mindless vandals who should face the full weight of criminal proceedings for their actions. I agree, as it happens, but who punishes the politicians when they wreck things?
     
    Wet And Wind Blown
    As I was warned of previously, the weather was foul. Blustery winds and persistant rain made it a somewhat uncomfortable day. As I packed my shopping at the supermarket checkout, you could hear the wind howling through the automatic doors behind me.
     
    The lady on the till chuckled along with me at the exaggerated noise. "This is going to be a quiet day." She commented. What? Surely not? Since when were Swindoners put off by Atlantic squalls sweeping across the West Country? Good, honest, bracing weather for us hardy Wiltshire breed. As if we had any choice.
     
    It is of course Armistice Day today, marking the end of the Great War and our annual rememberance of those who died. It's a shame the weather was bad but that didn't put off those attending the gathering at the Cenotaph just across from the library. Nor should it. We glorify warfare a lot these days. It's as well to honour those who actually suffered the consequences of it.
     
    Come to think of it, there's a cemetary in the back streets of the hill behind where I live. Although it's officially discouraged, I sometimes take a short cut through there. Walking through I did notice a modest cairn of stones. Compared to the mossy and glossy headstones spread across the hillside, it sort of stood out as crude and makeshift.
     
    If you look you find a dark metal plaque which announces the cairn is to remember a gentleman who died in South Africa serving King and Country against the Boers. His friends had the memorial put there to mark his passing, since they had no body to bury. I found that an oddly touching sight. It wasn't that my thoughts were on the great loss of life over the last century due to conflict, but rather the personal touch, far more meaningful than the anonymous service held in the town centre. It's been a century or more since a small group of railwaymen piled those stones there yet the sadness of the moment survives.
     
    That was this morning. It's now the afternoon, and the weather is still intermittently bad, but we've had brief spells of sunshine. It's almost safe to go outdoors again.
  14. caldrail

    Trubble At Mill

    By caldrail,

    Close your eyes. Empty your mind. Picture a whitewashed thatched cottage, rose bushes lining the manicured lawn in front of it. Oak and chestnut trees forming a lush backdrop. The sun is shining, birds are singing, all is peaceful.
     
    Now wake up. I don't know what sort of England you live in, but that rose-tinted image isn't anything like mine, which resembles an edwardian brick terrace, built in the days of cloth-cap engineering, Cars with stereos blaring pause at the traffic lights before vibrating under their own power down the road. Lorries rumble past at three point six on the richter scale, and buses demonstrate their immunity to the Clean Air Act of 1956.
     
    Bit of a shocker that eh? It gets worse. Late night revellers hold shouting contests in the street, while party-minded girls communicate by shrill screams and giggles. Yet despite all this, you still manage to find a few hours in the day when things are quiet enough to carry on with a tranquil and fulfilling life. Then my neighbour decides to go out for the night. Surely that would make things even quieter you ask? Nope. In order to get in the mood for boogie-ing the night away he insists on recreating the noise, the sounds, yes, even the smells, of a hard working nightclub.
     
    When this house was built, at the height of British Empire, no-one owned electrical consumer goods and so no-one invented sound proof walls. As a result, the interior space reverberates and so if anyone makes any noise, next door can hear it. Every chuckle, conversation, snore, and moment of passion is overheard by one and all, although I suspect not all my neighbours have realised that. They certainly haven't told their girlfriends.
     
    Once again the music impinged on my conciousness. I confess I got a tad upset. Having yelled at them to shut up I thought it was all over. Sadly not, because another of my neighbours, clearly less impressed than I was, walked out into the street and yelled abuse. That certainly cured the noise problem didn't it?
     
    Protest of the Week
    Greenpeace members have taken to roof of Parliament and demanded action on climate change. What are they expecting? Politicians to wave a magic wand and make everything better? The climate is changing. It's a huge, powerful, dynamic force in nature, and you can't stop it or put it back the way it was even if ruins your entire day.
     
    The real trick, as demonstrated by nature for the last three or four billion years, is to roll with the punches. Adapt. Survival of the fittest is fundamental to the success of species in the wild and I suspect, probably something that will emerge in climate politics. If I were in their place, saving cash and buying property on a hilltop might be a more comfortable (and ultimately profitable) exercise. Who knows? Maybe they'll be able to afford a car in a few years...
     
  15. caldrail

    Truly Amazing

    By caldrail,

    Once I've finished my chores for the day the world is my oyster. A small one if I'm honest, but that's the trouble with living on benefits. So with an afternoon to kill, what should I do? Something creative? Prose, artwork, or music? You have to be in that mood. Play computer games? I just don't feel the inclination. Yes, you guessed it, I decided to watch television. Why, I don't know, I just sort of felt that way.
     
    Finally I settled on a channel called Quest. They occaisionally show some interesting programmes you wouldn't normally find elsewhere (You might want to guess why) but who could resist a program called A Plane Is Born? Not me. My passion for aeroplanes knows no limits and once aroused, I sat back in my seat, opened a can of drink, and vegetated for all I'm worth.
     
    The program follows a presenter's efforts to learn to fly and build his own aeroplane from a kit. Now that takes me back to those heady days in the nineties when flying was a reality for me. In my younger days I wanted to build my own aeroplane and I even naively designed one, at least as far as I was able to before I learned engineering at college.
     
    I watched the presenter cope with his first flying lessons. Does he know anything else to say except "Amazing!"? Foir me learning to fly was not a new experience. I'd flown in aeroplanes as an air cadet, including hands on control, mostly in De Havilland Chipmunks but also Slingsby Venture motor gliders. At a time when the dominant lads at school thought they were cool riding their very first noisy little moped, I was buzzing overhead in a military trainer.
     
    So for me learning to fly began with dusting off those teenage cobwebs. I learned to fly in a Cessna 150, an aeroplane lacking glamour and excitement, but one that was sturdy and even dependable most of the time. I don't ever remember saying "Amazing!" myself though I did smile in between getting told off for doing something dumb..Make no mistake, flying an aeroplane is a busy activity and not until you accumulate skill and experience does it all become second nature.
     
    I never did get the point of building an aeroplane. Membership of the Popular Flying Association, essential for correct inspection and certification of your project, taught me what I might be letting myself in for. Truth was, I could never afford it and had nowhere to complete my dream aeroplane. So I rented Cessna 150's instead. However, I did get to say "Amazing!". For that, I spent a total of five and a half hours flying a Beagle Pup Series 2, with the larger 150hp engine. Sweet. And after flying mostly bog basic trainers, it was pretty amazing. There you go.
     
    My Worst Ever Flying Nightmare
    It wasn't always amazing. Flying can sometimes throw problems at you that you didn't expect, and however difficult or frustrating it gets, you have no choiuce but to deal with it. Once, it was a nightmare. This happened when I was an air cadet on a gliding course at South Cerney. It was a no-win situation. I was being tested to destruction. That was my first experience ever of a stern military style instructor and I was gradually losing reach of my objective, a long glide back to the field, and worse still, my confidence that I could have done it without that withering disapproval from the right hand seat. That was the last time I flew motor gliders.
     
    My Bestest Ever Flying Experience
    Sometimes, when I didn't have to worry about whether an air traffic controller wanted to kill me, or worry about whether the British weather was plotting to kill me, or whether my flying was going to kill me, I got this feeling of... Well... I'm not sure how to describe it. There's an elation that you're flying, defying gravity, completely in charge of your own destiny, at liberty to travel anywhere you want, and despite the engine and propellor making a right old racket in front of you, you feel completely at ease. Peaceful. Content.
     
    Nothing, not even completing your stamp collection, relaxing after great sex with an attractive woman, or showing the world how a sports car should be driven, nothing else in the entire world makes you feel like that. Amazing.
  16. 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.
     
  17. caldrail

    Trying Characters

    By caldrail,

    Seven hours. Seven. That's how long it took me to compile the paperwork the Job Centre have asked for concerning my last fortnight of job searching. Come monday morning I'm going to slap those wads of paper on the desk and believe me, sparks will fly if they get shirty over it.
     
    The trouble is, there's a claims advisor there who doesn't like me very much. He's a very urbane, serious type, and for him any hint of jollity from a claimant is a sign that not enough tyranny has been wrought upon the hapless hordes of useless spongers in his care. Given the forms I had to fill in were dubious to begin with (I've mentioned that before) one gets the idea they want to slap me down.
     
    I am, after all, a somewhat irreverent character. His purple shirt, dark tie, and the worlds most anonymous haircut (it just sits on his head like a lump of hair) might for some give off the image of bureaucratic superiority that he seems to desire, but to me it just doesn't. He so wants to be taken seriously and instead comes across as ridiculously pompous. He's already interviewed me and warned me three times that it was in my interest to be honest. Clearly my protestations of innocence fell on deaf ears. He has, in true bureaucratic style, filed me as 'dubious character'. That's what you get for not being as miserable as he is.
     
    This does seem to happen sometimes, in all walks of life, not just dole claiming. We are social animals and occaisionally one member of the community feels he has a right to demand subservience of the others, and the general idea is to force the other to beg for forgiveness. I've had that done to me in the workplace and it never worked there either. Some people can beg for breakfast. They just say whatever is going to please their superior, and live to fight another day. I can't do that. It's called honour.
     
    I can recall a quote from someone who once said that "You can lose anything in life, but never lose your honour". Obviously he wasn't surviving on benefits.
     
    Car Park Woes
    The Granville Street car park is a busy place during shopping hours. Nothing grand, just a block of housing demolished decade ago and turned into a ground level arena of car driving competition for spaces. There's even a one way system, carefully marked out in white paint, which the ravenous shopprs ignore in their quest to get that space before the other guy.
     
    I felt sorry for the old gent I saw driving around the area in his safe little hatchback. He was crawling along at less than walking pace, trying to spot an available space with eyes past their best, and once he'd managed to find a vacant spot and claim it as his own, crushed the wing of his car against a metal bollard.
     
    Poor chap. He tried so hard to park safely.
     
    Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch
    Did I ever mention my neighbours? They seem to be getting on better with each other now. Yesterday afternoon she giggled and barricaded herself in the bedroom while the boyfriend tried to push open the door. Later they had a singing contest. It's like living above 'Conan The Rogers And Hammerstein'.
     
    What?... Did he get in? I dunno, but at least they were quiet for ten minutes.
  18. caldrail

    Turning A Ship Around

    By caldrail,

    I wonder? What wonderful communications has the postman brought me today? Let's see....
     
    Two rejection letters from employers (I barely read them now), a glossy pamphlet offering two pizzas for the price of one (I always thought they were a tad expensive), and a couple of the local community newsletters that keep me in touch with the latest developments in and around my home.
     
    Big news today then is Queens Park, a little refuge of tranquility just around the corner from where I live. Not so tranquil any more it seems. The Council had decided not to bother locking it up at night to save money, and inevitably the sudden increase in anti-social behaviour has made them rethink that false economy. The vandals and druggies are going to look for somewhere else to reduce to urban ruin then.
     
    I heard one last night getting upset about something. Was that the alcohol talking? A few days ago I caught the tail end of a television program about alcohol and violence in Britain. It focused on one troublesome area and all looked hauntingly familiar. The talking heads interviewed expressly condemned cheap alcohol as the cause of violence, pointing at the phenomenon of pub 'Happy Hours' and bargain deals of various potent brews available in pubs and clubs.
     
    Funny thing is, I think they missed the point. It isn't alcohol to blame at all, but the people who drink it. Okay, a bloke tanked up on several pints probably isn't going to be particularly rational, but then, they knew full well they were going to get drunk (and violent) before they set out of an evening. Now whereas the availability of alcohol is making things worse - I can't disagree there - is a sober society really going to abolish these violent tendencies?
     
    Urban Learning and Leisure
    In another U-turn the council have decided to leave the Old Town library open after all. There's been quite an outcry from those who use the small and and unassuming premises. Perhaps if they leave it open, the vandals and druggies will have somewhere to go? Perhaps not.
     
    The Shape of U-Turns To Come
    There's another change in Council policy looming, this one over car park charges. Recently they doubled prices and inevitably aggrieved citizens and visitors are complaining about paying up more. The cost of parking a car in Swindon hasn't been cheap for some time because the Council wanted to persuade drivers to park on the edge of town and get a bus to complete their journey (I don't know about you, but don't you think that rather defeat the object of owning a motor car in the first place?) but two of those Park & Ride schemes are closing soon, through lack interest. Surely not?
  19. caldrail

    Turning Around

    By caldrail,

    The last few days have been quite warm, a typical British summer, and that wa quite enough for me. Luckily the nights cooled things down. A bit. Before the weekend however, the weatherman on television was beaming with malicious delight. Watch out for the weekend - it's going to be a scorcher. Okay. yawn.
     
    I got up late this morning having been up all night. As usual in summer, the air within my home was a little stuffy but I had things to do, so the atmosphere was of little concern. As soon as I opnened the front door to go to the shops - Woah! A blast of hot air hit me. That weatherman wasn't kidding. This is seriously warm folks.
     
    Turning Into Ash
    At the bottom of the hill traffic was held up. Roadworks? There's been some further down. I was wrong however, as a small fleet of fire engines were parked up on the road junction. On the pavement, a burned out sports car. The local lap dancing club gutted by fire. It turns out some guy reversed his car into the premises and poured pertol over the vehicle before setting it on fire. Good grief, as if it wasn't warm enough around here already....
     
    Turning Toward Triump
    Andy Murray has won the Mens Singles at Wimbledon. I apologise for the late news but since it took Mr Murray seventy years to win the match, I thought no-one would mind if I neglected to tell you immediately. Unfortunately David Cameron was a bit quicker off the mark. His suggestion to give Mr Murray a knighthood for winning at Wimbledon has left me a bit peeved because I won a game of conkers when I was twelve and the letter confirming my OBE still hasn't arrived. Oh yes, I forgot, the Health & Safety Executive made the game of conkers a threat to civilisation as we know it. I'll shut up before I get jailed for living dangerously.
     
    Vote for Murray - Turning Britain around.
     
    Turning Countries Around
    The dramatic events in Egypt have been the subject of considerable news footage. During an interview with some guy who apparently understood what was going on, the scrolling headline underneath said "Britain does not support regime change". Really? So we were right about those weapons of mass destruction in Iraq after all?
     
    My advice to the people of Egypt is to keep practising. Eventually you'lll get this military coup business right and finally win.
     
    Turning Jobseekers Around
    Our local library has been hosting a job club for a few years now. It's useful getting an extra couple of hours to search the world wide web for all those vacancies the jobsite adverts promise are out there. It's easy too. Unfortunately the library service have decided it's too easy as well, and now we're only going to get eight weeks each.
     
    How exactly does that assist me getting a job? By giving the opportunity to everyone else? And I've got a claims advisor who seems to believe I spend the entire day sat in front of a computer waiting for the next vacancy to appear.
  20. caldrail
    Caldrail's blog is missing. Or at least the last weeks entry is. Well, no, not really, I just forgot to write one. So I apologise for the tension this had caused around the world as people bite their nails hopin g my next entry will magically appear. David Cameron and Ed Milliband exchanged insults in an angry row. Three schoolgrils gave up and went to Syria. Even Jeremy Clarkson punched his producer over an argument about it and caused the BBC a multi million pound commercial loss. Sorry about that. Lucky for me I'm not actually responsible isn't it?
     
    As it happens I've also been leaving my emails untounched for a couple of weeks. Although I've been employed for three months now the many and various agencies are still sending job laerts regularly. Last week I got a phone call from an agency asking if I wanted to do two weeks labour in a role in which my certification has lapsed, that I have no qualification for, and is in the next county. No. Not really. And do they expect me to be available the next morning? Perhaps they ought to read my CV properly. I was trained for a decade to write one after all.
     
    Out!
    With most of my time devoted either to sleeping, shopping, or working, I've had little time to wander around my usual haunts. I popped into the local aprk on my way to the library this morning and yes, the birds are still fighting. One goose has clearly become unpopular, with the others evicting it very loudly. Know how you fell buddy.
     
    It's like my last claims advisor. She trampled me into the dust, squished my indentity, and then began trying to recreate me as an embodiement of a figment of her imagination. Turning me into someone I don't know, don't understand, or even like. And I was supposed to get a job while I was trapped in psychological quicksand? Ridiculous. Like all women, she believed she could change me. Only this time she had the authority to do it.
     
    Get On With It!
    Lately I've been doing less floor sweeping and more pallet collection at work. Not sure which is the most tiring. Sweeping the floors involves walking all day and constant bending down to pick up rubbish. Pallet collection requires guiding an electric truck around everyone elses in tight spaces with the clock ticking, lifting one pallet after another onto a pile for the lads to use on the container bay, and some of those pallets are seriously heavy without any load on them.
     
    The warehouse boss was wandering around the other day, as he often does, and stopped by a bunch of guys who were doing the sweeping job I used to do alone while I got on with the pallets. "You've all done very weell" He told them, to my utter chagrin, since they amble about and haven't been doing the job for longer than a week or two. "Credit where credit is due".
     
    Really? Hello, Mr Boss, I'm over here.... No? Typical.
     
    But it isn't all mindless tedium and hard work. The last time I got a pallet truck out I noticed the meter was quite low, only three bars out of thirty, and it looked unlikely the truck would survive the whole shift without the battery going flat. Those vehicles are at a premium. It's a wonder fights don't break out over who gets to drive one. Then I noticed another truck out in the warehouse with twenty bars. Some of the lads thought I was trying to do something sneaky, but no, I did speak to the colleague whose truck it was and we agreed under the circumstances that a swap was okay.
     
    Shortly after I had to take a toilet break. It happens, even to the best of us, and certainly to those of us with fifty year old bladders and energy drink habits. When I came out, my truck meter said two bars. What the...?!!!!!
     
    As it happened I didn't run of electricity. Pallets were delivered all day, I became tired and broken by the end of the shift, and the managers were happy. Two bars on my wagon, and ah'm still rollin' along....
     
    Language Of The Week
    Definitely Polish. With so many eastern europeans in the warehouse it's difficult to avoid hearing it, a strange arcane tongue impossible to understand, and I suspect those pesky poles know it. So I'm making an effort to learn a litle Polish. As it happens some of the lads are delighted, and take great pleasure in pointing out that my pronounciation is hopelessly wrong. But I'm getting there... One word at a time...
     
    do widzenia!
  21. caldrail

    Under Scrutiny

    By caldrail,

    I had parked a car near a friends house for another regular visit. Almost immediately this chap was there, bicycle to hand, asking me if I knew anyone selling a car he could do up. Just an old banger would do, something like the the same make and model I was driving at the time. I had no choice but to apologise and tell him I didn't know of any car for sale. Surely he didn't want my old Green Gerbil? The Nissan Cherry was like a set of clothes at the time and seeing as I was unemployed back then, I couldn't replace it.
     
    The next time I was unemployed a car drew up beside me on a busy high street. A well dressed young black man leaned over the passenger seat and called my attention. "Hey mate, I'm a rep and I've got lots of stuff I need to get rid of. Take a look at my stock." He said, and pointed to a heap of small cartons littering the front seat. He's asking me? At the time, I looked like something the goth metal band dragged in, and I really do believe that everyone else on the street looked wealthier than me.
     
    Six months later he stopped again. I was just about to cross the road when he swung round the corner and stopped in front of me abruptly. He started to give me the speel but instead I told him off for not using his indicators and driving in a manner liable to knock pedestrians down. Then I crossed the road and left him behind.
     
    Of course I can't prove it, but I really do believe all three were investiogators checking up on me as an unemployed person and attempting to find out how I earned my cash. The reality was that I earned it by signing on the dole, but people do get suspicious sometuimes.
     
    Now I have a new lady in my life. I see her in the background sometimes, looking at books or staring at a library computer without actually doing anything. Occaisionally she asks me for assistance on the PC but there's never any warmth about her, none of the "Come up and see me sometime" demeanour that I associate with romantic interest. Is she another investigator? Time will tell.
     
    The Moustache Has Gone
    Robert Mugabe has made a speech to his party faithful that he will not be replaced as leader unless they want him too. Didn't I say that was the case? In any event, he has no intention of stepping down for any reason whasoever. Heck, he's even shaved off his moustache in an effort to look more cute and cuddly. You're not fooling anyone Bob, and by the way, Britain isn't interested in ruling Zimbabwe. Trust me, its just a destitute cholera ridden disaster. I mean, your bank has just unveiled a ten billion dollar note. We've got enough financial problems of our own without worrying about yours. Oh sorry, I forgot, Zimbabwe doesn't have any problems now does it?
  22. caldrail
    It's monday. Again. Worse than that, it also happens to be Valentines Day, so it's a bit like Friday the 13th but without all that walking under ladders stuff. Tonight is the annual pilgrammage of single males into the pubs and clubs around town, hoping that some girl will catch their eye. It's all a lost cause of course, and I won't bother. What's the point? I'm not going to be able to get to the bar.
     
    All right, I admit it, I was sent a valentine message by a certain lady of my aquaintance. It was a little unexpected, if I were honest, and since the concept of sending little teasers is supposed to be anonymous, I have the perfect excuse to avoid having to name her to all those people for whom other peoples private lives are the main focus of their entertainment.
     
    Am I embarrased? No, of course not. there are those who claim I wouldn't be because I sleep with anything, but there are those who claim I'm too fussy. One taxi driver regards me as 'stuck up', but that's really because I think he's a jerk.
     
    So... What is the truth about Caldrails love life?
     
    The Sex Life of Caldrail
    Okay, here we go. It all began ...(Deleted by the Britsh Board of Boring People)... with a white mouse. Oh no, wait, that didn't come out right. I mean.. Erm...
     
    Is It True?
    The trouble with us human beings is that we like to present a public image to the world, sometimes even to ourselves. In most cases all we do is embarass ourselves, but boasting about sexual prowess is one aspect of british culture. They're all at it, you know.
     
    Like those two lads last night, having a very loud arguement concerning notches on the bedpost. And also who was going to get their head kicked in. Sex and violence. never fails to draw an audience, even with impromptu street performances.
     
    Then again, I have Punch & Judy, my turbulent neighbours, whose daily comings, goings, tantrum and giggles, and horrendous singing are impossible to avoid. Despite our exchange of threats and warning letters last year, I still don't think they realise I can hear everything they do. I mean, literally, everything. It's a nightmare. It really is. Oh no... They're doing it again... Please stop... I can't handle it any more...
     
    And Finally...
    Having survived the trauma of the weekend, I can now go about my daily business. So far I haven't been swamped with marital offers, but it's not midday yet, so there's always hope. The sun is shining. The sky is blue. You thought this was romance? More the fool you.
  23. caldrail

    Unfolding Dramas

    By caldrail,

    Dampness is the order of the day. Gone is the warm sunshine of yesterday, when I took a stroll through Lawns Wood. Getting out and about means you sometimes encounter unusual sights, and yesterday was no exception.
     
    Firstly I came across a fashion shoot in progress. You don't see that in Swindon very often. Young ladies in the latest summer styles waited patiently as the photographers and commercial directors relayed endless instructions on poise, expression, movement, and what to do about idiots grinning on the sidelines.
     
    Okay, I get the hint. A bit later I was heading back toward the stone arches that open onto Swindon streets. Walking up the cobbled path of what was once the tradesmen's entrance of Goddard Manor, I passed a woman with two dogs. That, I have to say, isn't unusual at Lawns. it's a popular place to walk dogs.
     
    One of the two dogs looked at me as it trotted by. There was a strange glint in its eye. That dog was out for mischief. having stared back at the dog, it chose not to bother me, but turned instead on its companion, a rather suprised larger dog, and an outbreak of growling ensued.
     
    "Stop it, Dracula!" The owner shouted, hauling hard on the lead. "Stop it!"
     
    Dracula? Incredible. What a name for a dog. So if anyone wants to know the whereabouts of the worlds most famous vampire, he's curerently walking incognito in the form of a naughty mongrel owned by Mrs Smith of Acacia Avenue, Swindon.
     
    I wasn't harmed in the writing of this blog entry. Must have used too much garlic in my dinner.
     
    Iconic Rescue
    In the news today I saw a piece about a photograph showing a hair raising escape of a woman from a first floor flat as the furniture store underneath her home is set alight by rioters. The woman walked away unscathed, apparently, in no small measure due to the policeman who caught her.
     
    The photographer has been put forward as a recipient of a Pulitzer Prize for the dramatic photograph. It is a very extraordinary moment captured by camera, but a part of me can't help being more impressed with the recuers than the photographer. After all, the woman who shot the picture risked her life for that very purpose. How was that going to help those in danger?
     
    Survival Of The Nerdiest
    Also in the news today is the revelation that a gang of hackers are planning to destroy Facebook, that ubiquitous social networking site that surrounds us all and binds the universe together. To be honest I find it hard to care. Facebook might keep people communicating, but let's be honest, what's the point of several hundred 'friends' you've never met and don't actually know you?
     
    As for the hackers, it's not for any great moral crusade as they claim. They're just doing it for the buzz. I suspect if it wasn't for their skill in hacking these people would be just a bunch of useless wasters anyway. I mean, if they were worth anything, why aren't they a success in life rather than the anonymous vacuum of the internet? It is in fact an illustration of specialisation and habitat colonisation that we find in biology. A minor species has found a niche they can thrive in.
     
    Keeps them off the street I suppose. But evolution requires that thriving creatures become prey for others. That's what happens when you flaunt destructive behaviour and shout about it.
  24. caldrail
    The health service is determined to prove I'm not well. As part of their quest to put me under the micropscope I've been asked to attend some strange scanning session. Apparently it's another excuse for that young lady nurse to daub me in gel. I can't wait.
     
    Thing is though I keep hearing complaints that the health service can't deliver this or deliver that. I must be honest, as someone who's never needed much in the way of treatment, I haven't noticed any problem at all. So what's the deal? I'm not asking or getting any preferential treatment. Or have I accidentially signed a release form for medical experiments?
     
    I have to admit, I've never heard of these big expensive gizmo's they want to try out me. In my mind I have this image of covert nazi scientists hiding an enclave of laboratories in a remote Swindon hospital. Cue lightning, thunder, and reckless bus drivers winding their way up that lonely dual carriageway...
     
    A Bit Of Privacy, Please
    Just of late I've noticed a lot of news items dealing with privacy matters. It's bad enough hackers getting into all sorts of networks and stealing information about our gameplaying habits, but now that injunctions are not enough, I see talk of super-injunctions against people revealing private info.
     
    But if you're a celebrity, surely the whole point of becoming one is to flaunt yourself publicly? I guess the obvious course of action is make yourself as dowdy and boring as posible. Stop doing stuff. Become forgotten. Then again, if you do that, the paychecks will stop coming in.
     
    So the fashionable answer to that dilemma is to stop people talking about you so that people will keep talking about you. Or is it more the case the celebrities only want people to say the right things?
  25. caldrail

    Unsafe Seas

    By caldrail,

    As shocking as it is, it seems that piracy is becoming more commonplace again. Never mind the brazen Somali's and their multi-million dollar ransom demands, now we have ships boarded in the English Channel, one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world and right on our own doorstep.
     
    Noticeably during the Cold War piracy wasn't an issue, what with naval vessels everywhere and so forth. The reduction of military ships since has made itself felt, and pirates now believe they are safe to conduct these operations without risk of being blown out of the water.
    The humourous comparisons with pirates of swashbuckling days is way off. Pirates back then were larcenous killers and many of the same personality types will be the ones in inflatable boats carrying AK47's. It isn't much different is it?
     
    Bye For Now
    Well it's time to log off. I'm heading for the hills with my backpack full of those essential survival items you'll never need until you don't bring them. The weather is cloudy, dry, and without the hot sun making life unbearable, it should be a good walk.
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