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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  1. 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?
  2. caldrail

    Swindon After Dark

    By caldrail,

    Here, deep in the rainforests of Darkest Wiltshire, the evenings are a time when the animals of the forest gather for their nightly mating rituals, challenging rivals, announcing themselves to all the other animals as big, hairy, and completely sozzled, and so for a few hours the cacophany continues.
     
    Later, when most of the animals ave either found a mate, a hospital bed, or a ride in a police van, there's an occaisional outburst from young male apes, hooting loudly to proclaim the success of their favourite football team. But even they eventually wander away.
     
    And so the small hours bring an feeling of emptiness to the forest, a quiet interrupted only by the passing of a motor vehicle. Yet if we wait patiently, a creature emerges from the undergrowth, a nocturnal scavenger...
     
    Thwump... Thwump crack!
     
    Yes, the sound of a back door being kicked in betrays the presence of the lesser Spotted Burglar as he raids the nests of other animals in search of shiney things. Moving quickly he he darts inside, sifting carelessly through the nest, and vanishing into the darkness when he finds something he can use to feed his habit.
     
    Dawn brings another creature to the forest, the Detective, a prowling creature in dark plumage, wandering the area for the scent of his favourite prey, the burglar. The detective and burglar are rival species in the fight for survival in the rainforest.
     
    Getting There Eventually
    I see that a microlight pilot has spent four months flying from england to australia, a distance of 12,000 miles no less. Even in this day and age there are still adventures to be had. Of course things have moved on since the heyday of exploratory flying when aeroplanes were real aeroplanes. Whereas once a pilot took off across hundreds of miles of primitive country with no facilities for flying, now he must cross nation after nation with airports, traffic control, regulations and flight plans. I think we can see where the achievement is.
     
    Coming There Eventually
    Also in the news is the revelation that prostitutes in Berlin can buy tickets to legally ply their trade, with 'consummation areas' set aside. This sort of idea is nothing new. Some people have suggested it for British cities before now in some form or other.
     
    Personally speaking I don't buy from prostitutes. British prostitutes are invariably ugly for a start, never mind the health and criminal issues involved. That's my choice. Others of course will disagree and utilise their services, and our local red light district, Manchester Road, has never rid itself of the stigma of prostitution. In fact, local residents want the area renamed 'Broadgreen' to disassociate themselves from the nocturnal trade.
     
    I think it's clear that the worlds oldest profession is not going to disappear overnight, unlike people belongings, and I still haven't solved the case of the missing Eunos Cabriolet. A postcard arrived through mmy letterbox the other day, asking me for my opinions on local issues and what I want done. To be honest, prostitution, for all the insidious effects it can have on a neighbourhood, is a lesser issue. What gets my goat are those cocky little thieves making life a misery for local residents.
     
    Lock them all up. No sex for them, unless they're unlucky enough to share a cell with a twenty eight stone weightlifter who thinks they're cute, but when they've served their sentence they can always look forward to getting laid again.
  3. caldrail

    After The Rain

    By caldrail,

    I know the foreigners reading this will find it hard to believe, but by midday yesterday the rain stopped. No, really, it did. Taking advantage of the sudden spell of damp conditions, I decided to wander down to Mouldon Hill and see if the cew from the Swindon & Cricklade Railway had laid tracks as far as the park yet.
     
    You might have realised by now that I don't get out much at nights. Fear not, I'm just setting the scene. There will be no further mention of matters relating to trains, railways, number plates, axle configurations, or cigar-smoking engineers in top hats.
     
    Anyhow, since by now the ground had been promoted from muddy mess to impassable quagmire, and since my experience of british weather has taught me to be a little circumspect on days like this, I donned my action-man hiking gear and set forth.
     
    You might have realised at this point that I don't get many invites to parties. Fear not, I'm just describing my typical attention to detail concerning survival in the wilderness. Swindon can be such a wild place.
     
    Now the route goes over a small river bridge, the water being about ten feet across and about deep enough for a mouse to drown in. But not yesterday. With the heavy rains filling every babbling brook in the area, the water was almost level with the bridge and had flooded the fields on one side. That was a clue to what was coming later.
     
    Behind the Mannington Trading Estate I decided to take a photo of the flooded woodland next to the path. It looked a little like this...
     
    Pic of the Day

     
    Having successfully avoided getting wet, I climbed back out of the bushes where a few curious shoppers had spotted me creeping through the undergrowth and were curious as to what I was doing. I nodded a greeting as I strode away, the bemused onlookers pointing into the trees as if they knew what it was I had taken a picture of. Talk about not seeing the wood for the trees.
     
    Flood of the Week
    In all seriousness, some places were treachorous, not to mention downright dangerous, with rivers concealed under inundated fields. Finally I got to Mouldon Hill Park. Despite it's name, its a large pond with a path around it. A quiet and secluded place where people walk dogs and feed ducks. Except the pond had been replaced by a lake that had hidden the path. So I joined a crowd of bemused dog walkers and duck feeders. We all agreed that we hadn't expected this. There you go. Proof that communities can act co-operatively after all. Apart from Lucy the dog, who decided that chasing ducks was more fun than obeying her master and.. well.. yes, I got wet after all.
     
  4. caldrail

    Its Raining...

    By caldrail,

    They gave a weather warning last night. Heavy rain expected. They weren't kidding. I was woken by the cascade of water on the roof during the early hours. This morning I had to don waterproofs to walk down the road to the library and thats after the rain had eased somewhat. What a difference from yesterday when I was out on my hike. Here's a sample of the weather...
     
    Pic of the Day
    This ones a view of Coate Water in the cold December sunshine. Notice the ice on the surface. Coate Water is a reservoir built in the 18th century to supply the canals built through Swindon and is now a local beauty spot.

     
    Job Losses of the Week
    My prediction about Woolworths appears to be coming true. After 500 already made redundant, another 700 job losses in the supply chain were announced yesterday. Chin up guys, I know exactly how you're feeling.
  5. caldrail
    Woolworths are closing. After nearly a century of trading on the High Street the grand old name is to vanish, unless someone pulls a rescue package together. London and Rochdale sites have already laid off staff, and it won't be long before the Swindon site does too. Somehow I doubt I'll get a job there anyway - I know of manager of old and she doesn't want me working there - but with hundreds of warehouse personnel on the market my job search isn't getting any easier.
     
    Weather Report
    Our first snow fall this year. It caught me by suprise, because whenever we get a decent layer of snow I always wake up to a sort of pink glow through the curtains. Not so this time, because the snow amounted to several snowflakes less. hey, its a start.
     
    Put Down of the Week
    Our revered Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, was lambasted in the House of Commons a day or two ago for telling politicians that he was 'saving the world'. Ho ho ho. Now his financial policies have been lambasted by the Germans who agree with me, that while everyone else is recovering from the recession Britain will be weighed down by debt. I've been saying that for years.
     
    Curriculum of the Week
    I do hear that the government is planning to change the school curriculum. History and geography are out, computers are in. Maybe it's just me, but isn't that because the teachers don't know anything about history or geography? What is the point of teaching kids to use computers? They're not actually going to learn anything, it's just a way of keeping their attention, which indicates yet another failure of modern teachers. In other words, we're about to create a generation of brainless mouse-clickers who don't know anything about their own country, don't know about anyone elses, and who think the internet is a reliable soure of information.
     
    It's a triumph of ignorance.
  6. caldrail

    Bad Review

    By caldrail,

    It had to happen. As I crossed the main road to Swindons shiney new library the first signs of urban decay have been left upon it in the form of a dark blue squiggle. Nigel woz ere. Well thanks, Nigel, but perhaps if you learned to read and get of bed in the mornings you could drop in and enjoy the ambience instead of wasting your money on spray paint. In fact, there's a section on art, and if you peruse the books contained therein (is my english too advanced for you?) you might discover how completely talentless you are as an artist.
     
    Right. Got that off my chest. Now to pop upstairs and log on. The cubicles are busy so I dive on the first available PC... Tap in my password.... Wait for it to boot up.... Huh? Oh not again, the keyboard settings are wrong. Must be set to US - it usually is... Nope. Apparently I need a serbo-croat keyboard. Luckily the very attractive blonde lady two cubicles down is bored and giving her boyfriend grief, so he's going elsewhere....
     
    Excuse me lady? Is this yours? I hand her the book on Mental Illness she left behind. Right, now I can log on. The guy to my right is suffering from terminal flu, and sniffs loudly every twenty seconds, coughing every minute. His mobile phone goes off every five minutes but luckily his answer is merely to tell the caller he's in Swindon Library. Must be an important guy. You can tell by the military surplus trousers.
     
    There's a businesswoman busy trying to organise transport the other side. She is merciless, sparing the poor receptionist on the other end no compliments, nor being fobbed off with some petty excuse that first class coaches don't go to Mongolia. Apparently, so I gather, she's organising one of those corporate team building exercises. Perhaps she could try delegating and building a team that way, giving them vital experience in organisation and bureaucratic obstacles that lifting plastic barrels over an assault course doesn't provide. Unless she works for Plasto-Barrel Direc, proudly delivering plastic barrels where no-one has delivered before.
     
    Oh dear, someone's fallen down the stairs... Amazing what mobile phones do to peoples sense of balance.
     
    And finally, to cap it all, AM turns up and begins a loud conversation with somebody else about the fashion merit of my military surplus trousers. Oh no. Its a fashion disaster.... Maybe I should reinvent my image? Or maybe tell AM what I think of his geriatric chic?
     
    Withdrawal of the Week
    The Irish have withdrawn pork products. Its big news of course, and as usual, everyones frightened of buying pork for fear they're going to blow up if they eat it. Always the same. I remember a big scare about beef some years back and that burgers were being considered for issue to British spies in case of capture. What was the point of not eating burgers? If I was going to drop dead from some horrible disease spread by infected beef products, I'd already got it. So now pork is cheap, I'm off down the supermarket for a game of russian roulette. Boy, do I live dangerously...
  7. caldrail

    Hans Christian Caldrail

    By caldrail,

    No, don't worry, I haven't discovered Jesus just in time for Christmas, and quite honestly, spending christmas day in a stable full of smelly farm animals with a screaming baby doesn't sound like heaven to me. No, I have a different nightmare....
     
    Heavy snow has hit Britain again and the usual wintery chaos has begun. Homes without electricity, roads slippery, the whole country grinding to a halt. Except Swindon, which once again is blissfully free of the stuff. That means cars can travel freely, so in Swindon, they build loads of bus-only lanes to impede the car driver all year round.
     
    There's a green bus rumbling around of Swindon bus routes. Its painted in a lurid dayglo green colour - you just can't miss it - and there wasn't enough advertising space to display the message that buses are going green, so they painted over the windows. Can you imagine travelling on that?
     
    "Where to mate?"
     
    Oh right. High street please.
     
    "Correct change only mate."
     
    Err... Hang on... Got some pennies here... Ah, here we go. Love the badge, goes with the uniform... Ok, I'll just go and sit down...
     
    The bus driver starts off on his journey. The interior of the green bus is dark and gloomy, filled with people whimpering and rocking forwards in their seats. I chat to girl sat next to me, a pleasant german lady who's off to see her granny in the woods. The driver hunches over the wheel and steers the bus wildly through the traffic blaring their horns, swerving left and right in a manic attempt to keep the schedules.
     
    Excuse me?.. Driver?... I can't see out the window. Could you let me know when we get to the High Street?
     
    "Next stop, pie factory... Mwuhahahahaaaaaaaa".
     
    Sanity of the Week
    Now you've all recovered from my tale of horror, let me assure you that I woke up in a cold sweat. The heating hadn't come on, and it's still perishing cold out there. So cold in fact, that Honda have decided to stop their involvement in Formula One. Where on earth is Swindon going to find bus drivers now?
  8. caldrail

    De Re Pound Sterling

    By caldrail,

    Money is the issue these days. Certainly for me, because I don't have any, but also for other people. It looks like a record number of mortgage repossessions this year. If that wasn't bad enough, fines for transgressing the law are rising steadily. Up to
  9. caldrail

    Ends of Rainbows

    By caldrail,

    More developments under way in Swindon. There's something peculiar going on. Our old hospital was pulled down a couple of years ago and a new one built two or thee miles out in the country. The old police station was pulled down more or less at the same time and that too has been replaced by a station miles out in the country. Doesn't anyone want to work in Swindon any more? Or is this some fiendish plot to get people to use buses?
     
    An article in our local paper unveiled plans for the redevelopment of the police station site. It was pretty much what you'd expect, glass towers and wide paved boulevards so beloved of planners. I had to laugh though. The article also proudly boasted that "Swindon could be the Sheffield of the South!"
     
    Yeah. Ok. Surely though a town wth vision and plans for the future really ought to be calling itself the "Swindon of the South"? In any case, Swindon has been reinventing itself since the 1970's and is still only known for an odd roundabout in the town centre. My guess is that in twenty years it'll be known as "Eyesore of the South".
     
    Reminds me of a Simpsons episode... Hang on... Didn't they once try to get Swindon a monorail? Who's that guy in the blazer and hat running for the railway station with a suitcase stuffed with money?
     
    Job Offer of the Week
    I've been sent an email by some company about a job offer. They want me to be a part time regional representative, working from home, earning
  10. caldrail

    El Dorado

    By caldrail,

    In the course of my search for gainful employment, I've gotten to know the vagaries of various employers. Most, thankfully, are straightforward to deal with, especially those offering enslavement at the National Minimum Wage. Our local council regularly offers vacancies and thats almost become a weekly hobby, printing off their application forms, handing the envelopes in at the Customer Service Desk, and awaiting the rejection letter. They're very polite and supportive - you get such a warm feeling when you read how they're not shortlisting you but please please please don't get upset or throw yourself off the bridge... We like your applications. We do, really....
     
    I used to think our Council were something of a bunch of jobsworths. Now I know different. I've discovered another employer in our area, a government sponsored agency, who have the most rigid and terrifying bureaucracy known to man. They advertise a job in the local paper, so I take a note of the website and attempt to download their application form. Site not recognised. Oh, I see, part of the Intelligence community no doubt?
     
    I will not be beaten. I find their associated group website, and download it from there. Its a form in two parts and once filled in, I send it back to the address listed. Then I get an email saying "You haven't filled it in correctly. Please try again."
     
    What is this? A game? Have I not progressed beyond the second level? I scour through the file and discover there's no warning about the little box at the bottom that should say DO NOT RETURN THIS FORM UNLESS YOU FILL THIS TINY INSIGNIFICANT BOX WITH AN EQUALLY UNIMPORTANT ANSWER.
     
    Deep Breath. I complete the form, and send it back. Then they send a polite email saying "You've sent the wrong forms. Find the right ones attached."
     
    The search for my El Dorado goes on then.
     
    Hiker of the Week
    Recently the forecasted 'cold snap' has hit our green and pleasant land. We even had a brief snowfall one morning last week. As I stroll through the town I see old women shuffling the weight of thirty layers of clothes. This morning though I did notice an man in his fifties, backpack, shorts, staring at a map and looking for all the world like someone out for a summer stroll.
     
    Congratualtions mate. You finally found the Legendary Lost Town of Swindon.
  11. caldrail

    Still Seeking Treasure

    By caldrail,

    I knew it was a bad omen. As I came into the library this morning there was a horde of children all sat cross-legged in a crescent, completely blocking the stairs... excuse me... just passing through... Ooops, sorry kid....
     
    Ok. Up the stairs.... Woah! Didn't expect the hidden trapdoor opening onto a bottomless pit... But its ok, an old lady offers me a whip to grab on to. I wander along the long forgotten aisles of dusty books.... Walking in front of a beam of sunlight, spears extend from the reference section, with the skeleton of an ignorant teenager still hanging from the rusty barbed points.... At last! Cubicle thirty three. I tell me minions to wait , and I sit to sit down and do my internet stuff. Well, I was... Oh no.... A twenty stone library member is bearing down on me....
     
    "Sorry mate (belch) I've booked this PC." He says. I make my escape as the hordes have gone back to their treasure trail. A crowd of keen treasure hunters run past my cubicle reciting numbers. At least I had the sense not to sit in cubicle thirty five.
     
    So, if you still haven't found the treasure yet, don't give up, because given the state of british education its looking unlikely the kids will find it first.
     
    New Order of the Week
    A little while ago Gordon Brown was telling the world he wanted to see a New Order. Thats just political rhetoric, right? Wrong. He wants to order us around and make us pay for it. Of course you already know that, but it seems now the government were planning to raise taxes where no taxes have risen before. I said somewhere else a few years ago that New Labour were slowly turning Great Britain into Britslovakia. Well whaddaya know? I was right.
     
    Now if you've excuse me, I need to find a polish phrase book in this library.
  12. caldrail
    I wonder what would happen if the worlds population was decimated by a sudden deadly plague? Its not a pleasant thought. Without the restrictions of an ordered society, opportunism and lawlessness would rapidly take hold. A guy I knew at work once told me that since he knew all about nature and the wilderness and stuff, come the revolution he would survive. You know what? I doubt it. He might have an advantage - assuming he really does know something, and assuming he's actually had some practice at exploiting that knowledge - but even that doesn't guarantee survival. I told him that.
     
    As I write this I'm watching the opening episode of Survivors. Its a glossy remake of a budget 70's series that explored just this scenario. To be honest, I struggled to stay interested. The characters were so two dimensional that I now truly believe the world is flat. To compensate for the lack of depth, the actors played their roles in a painfully dramatic fashion, with an overbearing music score that seemed very familiar. It was opera, like so many recent BBC productions. Plenty of style and movement but remember to switch your brain off.
     
    I still prefer the original series. It may be stilted and a little wooden to our modern sensibilities, but at least it went beyond the comic book level of sophistication. Actually, this new series has all the same production values as the frankenstein monster that is the new Dr Who. Or just about every tv drama the BBC have trailers for. Someone ought to tell Auntie Beeb that some of us are getting bored with the same old formula.
     
    Offer of the Week
    Now I don't have any personal transport, walking from place to place is pretty well essential. The government will probably shake their heads and point out that public transport exists. Yes it does, but public it isn't. Its commercial transport, and for that I have to pay. Correct change only please. Since I generally go where bus routes are mythological, I have to take care of my survival and dress appropriately. British weather being what it is. Well whadaya know... I'm living out my very own Survivors.
     
    Perhaps the BBC ought to save money and film me. It'll be just as dull and they can always add a strong music score to liven the mood. At least then I'll be able to afford bus fares and make a living on game shows. Hey, just a thought. Mull it over.
  13. caldrail

    Changes For The Worse

    By caldrail,

    There's a house I used to pass on a regular basis going back some thirty years now. As a dwelling, it wasn't anything special, but the combination of grubby stonework and detailed windows gave it a subtle hint of individuality. What really made a difference was the garden, a forlorn and neglected patch of withered trees and abandoned fishponds. It had that 'secret garden' feel to it, a real patina, almost a sense of camouflaged seclusion.
     
    Sadly the house has been bought by new owners. The garden is gone, paved over with red brick to park the junior management car, and the house plastered and painted bright cream. When the new brick wall was built, the occupant had a part demolished so he could park in a certain direction. Its become a sort of advertisement for the owners lifestyle. Nonetheless, the house, for all its renovated freshness, looks awful.
     
    The man just has to be an advertising executive. I hope he has a good burglar alarm.
     
    Map of the Week
    I stumbled across a map of Swindon dated 1890-something in our new library. Fascinating to see how much my home town has changed ovr the years. Most of it din't exist then, and the aborted Swindon, Marlborough, and Andover Railway tunnel site is clearly marked (its now Queens park, a local beauty spot - or at least until they paint it bright cream in the near future). It set me on a quest amongst the old photographs in the reference section. Lots of gothic shops and bemused workmen standing in the street. But it had atmosphere and plenty of it. Once again I've seen how unable Swindon is to live with its past.
  14. caldrail

    Strange But True

    By caldrail,

    The car roars across the desert. Fast paced action and immediate editing. A robot-like individual steps off his Harley Grav-bike and asks a tussle-haired young man standing fresh faced and breathless before him...
     
    "Who are you?" (Always a good intoduction I think. Find out you the tussle haired kid is before he mugs you and sprays tags over your grav-bike)
     
    "James Tiberius Kirk!" The young man responds with film actor defiance. No. Surely not. Star Trek has evolved toward the lowest possible level of entertainment and instead of the original almost cerebral and character driven plots, we get Star Wars 7 (Return of the Captain). Now the hero of Enterprise NCC-1701 is depicted as a Luke Skywalker clone. I can just see it know....
     
    Kirk hangs from railing above bottomless power core. Klingon boss readies his bat'leth for the killing blow.
     
    "Surrender, Kirk! Join with us and beat your chest like a real warrior."
     
    Kirk grunts and moves further away...
     
    "Kirk! I can save you you.... Look, would it help if I claimed to be your father?"
     
    You know what? I've just realised that Hollywood has plagiarised The Mighty Boosh. The young tussle haired shaman (An erotic adventurer of the worst kind. Its true) is called Kirk.
     
    Wow. Such a small universe.
     
    Car Theft of the Week
    Another strange event is that my car has been broken into again. This time they cut a larger hole inthe soft top on the drivers side. Cheers guys, but if you happen to be reading this, what on earth are you bothering for? The car is dead. Its been dead since last christmas. There's nothing in it, its got no steering wheel, no power, no handling qualities whatsoever. Its a pile of metal slowly going rusty. Didn't you notice that the last time you got inside it?
  15. caldrail

    Finding Answers

    By caldrail,

    Recently I made a scathing attack on Gordon Brown, our somewhat self-inflated prime minister. A man whose brilliance at dropping his problems into his successors 'to-do' list is. I predict, what he will eventually be remembered for. But all is not lost. Oh no. I have found the solution.
     
    Yesterday I strolled down to the Job Centre to sign on the dole for another fortnight. The heavy clouds and damp drizzle made me wonder if I would have to sprint down to the Job Centre, but thankfully the rain held off.
     
    The security guards there are wonderful, second only to our policemen. Ever helpful (and I do sometimes send them on errands) yet after nearly a year of signing on, totally unable to recognise me as a member of that protected species, Homo Unemployedus. Good grief, I go to all this trouble to look scruffy and they still stop me at the door.
     
    "Excuse me Sir...." They ask, walking up to me with puffed out chests and hard stares. As usual I present my job search documents, and satisfied that I'm not a suicide bomber intent on destroying civilisation as we know it, they allow me to pass by.
     
    The atmosphere in the current Job Centre is by far the best I've ever encountered. Gone are the primeval queues awaiting a rubber stamp at the desk, gone are the ticket machines which inevitably tell you that thirty seven other claimants are in the queue in front of you, gone is the soft music, and thankfully so is that toe-rag who stopped my money the last time I was claiming benefits. Now there was a young gentleman who had the makings of a true dictator, if only he had the intelligence to realise that running an office is not an impressive political career.
     
    Anyway, I sat down on the suprisingly comfortable seat and awaited my call. They now politely call you by name. Such a human touch. My claims advisor is a pleasant lady who seems bored of the hurly-burly of spotty kids and single mums. We exchange pleasantries, and I eventually sign her form that allows me to receive a fortnights money.
     
    "Is there anything else I could do for you?" She asked me as I was about to bid her goodbye. A thought occured to me that maybe her boredom was becoming too much - sadly I much prefer the brunette two desks down - but perhaps I'm just getting too old and sex starved to see an innocent request. In any case, I felt secure in the knowledge that security guards were not too far away.
     
    I thought for a second or two, then replied "Well... you might do something about the economical downturn in this country..."
     
    "I'll give it my best shot." She promised me. There you have it Mr Brown. Forget your political posturing and fiscal philandering, the answer to Britains problems is sat in an office in Swindon. You heard it here first.
     
    Heist of the Week
    A giant oil tanker gets taken by somali pirates off the coast of kenya. Clearly they can't afford petrol either, which suggests to me that someone in Mogadishu has just bought a V8. All they need to do now is steal an oil refinery. Far more likely though is the possibility of arms purchase. By coincidence there was a tv program last night about Victor Boutt, a russian arms dealer who inspired the Nicholas Cage film Lord of War, which by even stranger coincidence I saw on DVD yesterday afternoon.
     
    What am I bid two million barrels of crude oil? Its a bit worrying, because they've already got plenty of AK47's.
  16. caldrail

    Fate and Fantasy

    By caldrail,

    I remember there was a hullabaloo some years back when some young man killed himself listening to suicide solution by Ozzy Osbourne. The tragedy is one thing, the association is perhaps a little strained because if you pay attention to the lyrics you discover the song is actually about alcohol abuse.
     
    There was a publicised court case when Judas Priest were prosecuted over someones elses death, the idea being that the lyrics contained reversed messages. Ridiculous. Who bothers to listen to music backwards? Why would a band go to the enormous trouble of ensuring that their lyrics sound like an intelligible message the wrong way round?
     
    Now its happened again. Simon Cowell, never a man to charm a crowd, lambasted a fan of Paula Abdul for her lack of star quality in 2006. The fan I mean, not Ms Abdul. It seems the woman was a stalker too. She's now been found dead.
     
    Mr Cowell is going to get some bad press over this but I can't help feeling that it wouldn't have mattered. This woman, like all those other stalkers, suffer from a lack of self-worth and seem to compensate by an almost religious quest to associate themselves with their chosen star. They are, frankly, deluded. Since their self-esteem is based on fantasy is it any wonder that this woman couldn't deal with the reality of her lot?
     
    Is Simon Cowell to blame? Pinning blame, finding scapegoats, pointing fingers... Human beings have been burning people at the stake for petty reasons for thousands of years. Actually I doubt Mr Cowell can really be blamed for the womans demise, she was emotionally weak to begin with and any disappointment would have set off her action. In any case, if she couldn't handle disappointment, the entertainment business was not the place for her. Sorry, but it wasn't. Its a tough arena and I know from my own experience how soul-destroying it can be.
     
    Fantasy is something we all indulge in in some way or other. Its about control in a way. In your own fantasy world everything occurs as you desire. In the real world, everything occurs because others decide to make it so, and your ability to control your own life is down to your own influence or willingness to buck the system and suffer the consequences.
     
    Fate is the sum of all decisions and natural forces. This womans fate is as much her own as Simon Cowells comments.
     
    Somehow though, I doubt I'll invite Simon Cowell to my christmas bash. I'm sure he wouldn't dirty himself with a response anyway, but then perhaps I'm not so deluded.
     
    Thank You of the Week
    I used to have fans. No, I'm serious. There was a buch of guys from Bristol who used to travel around just to see me play a drum kit on stage. I always to used to chat to them after the gig, and there was always a pint for my trouble. Actually, given how physically demanding a performance was and the lack of audience response we sometimes got, their support was worth a great deal.
     
    Funny thing is, even now, twenty years after I strutted my stuff in pubs, clubs and venues all over England, I still get the occaisional handshake. I waited at an Indian takeaway for my curry, only to be accosted by a wild-eyed straggly haired guy, grinning at me like a cheshire cat.
     
    "Great gig man, great gig. Wow that was great...."
     
    Glad you enjoyed it Sir. At least someone did. Maybe inviting Simon Cowell to parties isn't the thing. Perhaps we should have invited him to a gig? Sure he would have lambasted us. Why not? Everyone else did. No fantasy about that at all.
  17. caldrail

    Mud

    By caldrail,

    Today I decided to journey down to the local sports center. At last there's a break in the inclement weather so I thought I'd forgo my usual survival outfits and make the expedition in something resembling a reasonable appearance. Beige trousers no less. Now if thats not a challenging fashion statement, what is?
     
    On my way down there I stepped on the wrong leaf. Its autumn of course and there's plenty of them littering the pavement. Worse still, it rained last night and with this yellow vegetation spread about it gets a little slippery...
     
    Yep, I did.
     
    Step... slide... WEEE!!!!!! Splash. Flat on my back in a muddy puddle. Right in front of a group of council workmen. They looked down at me then at each other. Its a little known fact that council workers are telepathic. You could see the amusing jokes being passed between them wordlessly.
     
    I took the route through the local shopping center. A young child prodded his mother as I strode by.
     
    "Look... He's fallen over on his bum."
     
    Thanks kid. I know.
     
    Financial Plan of the Week
    Gordon Brown is incredible. He actually believes we're all going to believe this drivel he comes out with. Now that Obama has been voted into office, and finding that they do get along, he's straight in there with a call for a 'New World order'. After his failure to achieve a mandate at the polls its rather like Gordon Browntrousers becoming Gordon Browntongue. The man has no shame.
     
    Gordon, just shut it. You are after all the bloke who's taxed our economy to the point of collapse. And incidentially, what is the point of announcing tax cuts now we're all going down the pan? Especially since you plan to borrow to pay for them. Please excuse me for not being a financial expert, but aren't we going to have to pay it all back?
  18. caldrail

    Punishing TV

    By caldrail,

    Sometimes I watch tv. No really. I don't often indulge (other than Top Gear, BBC News, and the odd Star Trek episode - Boy do I live fast and dangerous) but last night, no-one could stop me. Anyhow, it was quite late when I pointed the remote at a black box and to my suprise, the normally innocuous channel was showing a sex program. Sex? On british tv? Thats a suprise....
     
    The american program revolved around a holiday resort for sado-masochistic women. It was styled after a british stately home (Oh now come on...) and the holidaymakers must become servants for the duration of their visit, in which they perform domestic duties, step and fetch, get generally demeaned and gently whipped in a dungeon for failing to be sufficiently servile.
     
    Now let me get this straight. Women are paying tons of money to be treated worse for doing doing the same drudgery they moan about at home? Why? Does this mean they secretly enjoy this treatment? Is the reason for increasing divorce rates simply that british men are failing to take the hint?
     
    Is this where I've gone wrong over the years? Perhaps then a great new chat-up line to woo the ladies would be "Hi Babe. I got a whole load of broken crockery. You're very naughty and must be punished"....
     
    How could it possibly fail?
     
    The Mouse That Wrote A Cheque
    The title of this section refers to a british B&W film of the early 60's - The Mouse That Roared - about a quixotic little nation. It seems the Isle of Man - a small independent island with its own government off the coast of Britain now used as a tax haven for wealthy individuals - has hired NASA to build a space buggy to land on the moon and claim a
  19. caldrail

    Dream Jobs

    By caldrail,

    According to a recent survey by an employment website, only 14% of people ever end up in their dream job. What they haven't asked is how many of those 14% succeed at it. As a confirmed member of the politically stronger Failure Party (86% of the vote at the last count) I would like to point out getting your dream job is only half the battle, and that keeping it is sometimes a little tougher. There is of course the old wisdom that you should beware of what you wish for, and that the grass is always greener on the other side of the hill.
     
    Since I'm considered 'over the hill' by most employers, I have to say the grass isn't green at all. Do I sound aggrieved? Well, actually, I can't complain too much. I've done things many people dream about.
     
    All Change In The Tardis
    Yep, its that 'New Dr Who' moment. David Tennant has decided to move on to a higher plane of existence and so the media circus surrounding who plays Who is going to start again. Personally, I think I'm perfect for the job. After all, it beggars belief that Cardiff is the site of a strange rift in time and space when everyone knows the rift is located at Swindon. We get all sorts of aliens here....
     
    Promise of the Week
    Our chancellor, less capable but less deceitful than his predecessor, has vowed to rebuild public finances. A labour politician who wants to reduce spending? Or is this another veiled warning of increased taxation? As if we don't more than ever before already, but then again, this is the party that told the public there's lots of ways of taxing people they haven't tried yet.
  20. caldrail

    He's Ba-ack....

    By caldrail,

    Yep, its AM. He's sat two cubicles away from me in the library as I write this and whinging away like nothing else.
     
    Mutter mutter.. groan... can't send my emails... stupid computer.... why won't this work.... oh no.... not again.... mutter mutter....
     
    Funny thing is, some unemployed guy, older than me and obviously unacquainted with personal computing, was getting help making a job application via the internet. AM looked over his shoulder irritably A - because they were disturbing his whinging time and B - because the other guy was getting attention.
     
    Eventually the unemployed guy and the patuiently helpful library assistant went away.
     
    "Making noise like that, disturbing us when we're trying to do our emails", He hissed angrily, "No ettiquete at all".
     
    You have to laugh.
     
    Laugh of the Week
    Goes to Syria's response to american forces mounting a raid on their territory. "Terrorist agression" they denounce it as. Well, it seems to me that the american raid was targeted precisely to achieve a single objective, which they seem to have succeeded at. Terrorism is more indiscriminate and lets be honest, Syria has never shown any qualms about harbouring such people. I know some people are going to point at this action and denounce the US as throwing its weight around (like the critics always do), but since the US has suffered thousands of casualties trying to restore peace in Iraq (whatever the political motives) you can hardly blame them for attempting to cut off the enemies recruitment office. I think Syria needs to realise America was serious when it declared 'War On Terror'
  21. caldrail

    Where Miracles Happen

    By caldrail,

    Recently I bumped into a lady I've known distantly for a long time. To be honest, I've never really spoken to her much, but on this occaision we got talking.
     
    She began by enquiring about my historical research, something she'd noticed me doing at the library. The reason for her interest had nothing to do with my natural charm, physical assets, or bank balance, but rather my soul. It turns out she's a keen member of one of those odd christian sects that you see from time to time. Hers is a door leading to a church over the top of a popular pub in town, in an old refurbished cinema. Seems an ironic place to hold prayer meetings doesn't it?
     
    I was politely invited to attend a meeting. No thanks. Especially after she innocently told me that a 'Great change was afoot'. She tried to stop me in mid-guffaw and explain why all these miracles were coming to pass. Sorry, but I still guffawed.
     
    Then we got down to business and spent an hour engaged in a religious debate that certainly made a change from the usual football and nightclub scores. I don't she realised we had an audience!
     
    Like most of these cults, hers has filled her head with talk of miracles and typical end-timer prophecies. Hers is a world filled with miracles. Unfortunately, I think it would take one to get me through her door.
     
    Nightclubber of the Week
    Walking home through a side street at night, I spotted a young black woman waiting for someone. Usually this sort of encounter is with a woman of the night, something I don't bother with and couldn't afford even if I was interested.
     
    This lady was different. Her clothes were way upmarket to what I usually see in Swindon, more like the sort of thing you see in expensive london clubs. She noticed me looking as I passed by and stopped swigging champagne from the bottle. Oh, sorry dear, do carry on.
     
    She did.
  22. caldrail

    The Credit Crunch

    By caldrail,

    Its almost impossible to escape the news that the global banking system is wobbling. Governments are stepping in and in some cases, falling out (I refer to Britain freezing Icelandic assets over concerns about the amount of british money held there).
     
    One chap contacted the news team and said that forty years ago he needed an interview with his bank manager for a loan of
  23. caldrail

    A Few Less Journeys

    By caldrail,

    It had to happen. I've watched news reports and read the papers about how one company after another has raised energy prices enormously, and felt very smug that mine hadn't.
     
    Until now....
     
    Usually I get pamphlets from them telling me about various offers and schemes (which cost money of course) but this time I got the letter that said sorry, but you're going to have to pay more. They're raising my electricity and gas prices by a third. Ouch! But then the prices they pay are nearly 200% higher, so can I complain? Well... Yes. Because I'm currently on benefits and I doubt they'll give me any more to cover the costs. The government have said they want to help those struggling to meet bills. Go on then. Or shall I vote for someone else? Tell you what, a few less holidays, plush apartments, and kitchen upgrades at the tax-payers expense might help me through the winter this year.
     
    Interview of the Week
    My quarterly benefits interview took place yesterday, and the young lady did her best to come across as professional and knowledgable. She told me with some bureaucratic enthusiasm about a scheme to get people to interviews at long distances.
     
    Great I said. But once I get the job, who pays for the travel? You won't.
     
    She didn't like that. I spoiled her moment of glory there with a dose of practicality, something these job agency people really don't consider since they never have to deal with it. They talk about public transport as if its a free service door to door. It isn't. So I'll stick to local employers thank you, and save some money by making a few less journeys like that.
  24. caldrail
    A newsletter pushed through my letterbox? That wouldn't be unusual given how keen some local politicians are in making themselves sound useful to the community, but no, this has nothing to do with community politics. The neighbourhood has decided to conduct an archaeological dig behind a nearby street, hoping to find evidence of a long lost alleyway believed to lie beneath weeds, trees, and an extraordinary collection of household waste.
     
    It is fascinating how that alleyway has changed. Back in 2003, I drove a low slung sports car along it (at a crawl mind you. Safety first. Repair bills second). Now it's a meandering cinder path between masses of vegetation that a land rover couldn't tackle. I was even told by the developers of the old college site that no-one knows who the alleyway belongs to anymore. In its current state, it's hard to see why anyone would want it.
     
    I wonder what they'll find? A lost cat perhaps? A stolen white Eunos cabriolet? Japanese soldiers refusing to believe the war is over? Indiana Jones and the Alleyway of Doom? An atttactive gun-totin' young woman of impeccable breeding occupied with infiltrating a long lost atlantean colony? Who knows?
     
    Maybe it won't save the world from disaster, but nice to see the local community getting together and doing something about the fall of western civilisation in our neighbourhood.
     
    The Race Isn't Over
    A russian physicist in Manchester UK has just earned himself a Nobel Prize by creating Graphene, a sheet of carbon so thin that one gram of the material would cover several footbal ptitches. Who would have imagined such space age materials were possible?
     
    No. I don't know what it's good for either, but apparently the western military do. In the race to re-stabilise the power balance with China's ever growing armed forces, we're going to cover their football pitches in carbon. I notice the Chinese have gotten wise to that and complained about the west's master plan for military superiority. They're getting the moon to themselves right now, what else do they want?
     
    Song of the Week
    Saturday night and first on the radio's classic rock show is Status Quo and their hit single Rockin' All Over The World. How does anyone escape from that song? It just follows you around and refuses to die.
     
    Way back when I had just left school I formed a band with a bunch of mates to play a charity gig with lots other no-hopers. As it happens the event went down quite well. Sadly we didn't win the prize for the Best Band of the night. That went to a punk band who won on the basis of being the only act to perform a drum solo. They also had the sheer gall to criticise my choice of drumkit. Talk about rubbing it in. On the plus side we won the prize for the Best Instrumental Track. However the judges quite rightly refused to acknowledge the existence of our cover of Rockin' All Over The World and so the world was saved.
  25. caldrail

    Walk This Way

    By caldrail,

    Today I decided to wander down to the sports center. Not by my usual route along the main road, by the back trail, an old abandoned railway line. This railway runs through a cutting near the old town station site (now an industrial estate) which is composed of Jurassic rocks - I've mentioned it before. So, in the spirit of optimism, I climbed the muddy bank to have a look at the rock face.
     
    The imprint of a barnacle shell. Large too, about three times the size of those I picked off the beach at Whitley Bay recently. Over there, a mussel shell, no bigger than modern specimens. Belemnites they're called, typically found in seashore deposits of this time. Hang on a moment....
     
    Wow! There, in the overhang of rocks dating from the late Jurassic era, was a definite series of footprints. A small creature, no bigger than two or three high, had stepped across the wet sand of a bay in this place a hundred and sixty million years ago. The prints were close together, so it wasn't travelling. Perhaps it was a scavenger, sifting through whatever the sea washed up for food, or perhaps a small carnivore, approaching slowly and ready to rush in. Maybe a small herbivore, cautious of its situation and ready to flee if things turned ugly.
     
    That made the morning worthwhile.
     
    Thought For The Week
    Different people walk differently. Yesterday I walked behind a rotund woman whose pace was quick for her, but insufferably sl;ow for me. Trouble was, she was swinging her arms outward, and trying to get by risked a solid blow to my sensitive regions. There's that old guy, who literally marches everywhere with a straight back. A group of youngster amble around each other swaying their shoulders from sie to side. A young woman pushes her babychair at breakneck speed, swerving in and out of pedestrian traffic leaning forward.
     
    I wonder what future paleotologists will make of footprints we've made?
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