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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  1. caldrail

    UnsettlingTimes

    By caldrail,

    Times they have a-changed. The downturn in the economy has been evident for some time with many shop closures and to some extent that's become mundane, something you expect to see. As I passed the newspaper stand at the supermarket I caught a headline that attracted my interest. The shopping centre is in the hands of the receiver. Shocking. The report did say however that for now it's business as usual. That's the high street equivalent of UN intervention in a collapsing nation state (but let me say there is no intention of regime change).
     
    Two shop assistants were discussing this report whilst customers stood ready to pay for their chosen goods. "what's receivership anyway?" Asked the less learned of the two. Kids these days. Sheesh...
     
    Chucking Out Time
    There it was again. A persistent coarse yelp that could only come from an urban fox. Thing is though, I've always heard those sounds in the relative quiet of small hours, and even then, only in the secluded narrow back streets. This time it was out on the main road at eleven at night. It's no good complaining Mr Fox, we humans close our pubs at eleven.
     
    Undue Interest
    Some young asian lad almost leapt onto the seat next to mine at the library yesterday. Now youths are not usually so keen to be studious, and even those whose ability extends to YouTube and Facebook are rarely so energetic. In fact, this particular lad didn't seem interested in logging on to that computer at all. Instead he glanced at me and held a mobile phone in front of him.
     
    Some people are camera-phobes, mostly out of shyness, insecurity, guilt, or a desperate desire to look their best at all times. Having been in entertainment in my earlier years I've gotten well used to being photographed. Nonetheless there was something furtive about this lad. He was up to something.
     
    The mind can run riot when you start trying to second-guess other peoples motives. Is this lad attempting to use my image for fraudulent purposes, or is he involved in some stupidly amateurish terrorist plot? I certainly doubt he's a fan of my work.
     
    You can imagine then that I was a little more alert than usual. Things happen for a reason and you never really know what people are thinking. As I got to the top of the stairs I saw someone else in the corner of my eye. I paused and looked around. Another youth, a fair haired caucasian, was striding toward me, staring straight at me. It might have been innocent. For all I knew he was going downstairs anyway. Yet someone who looks at you in that way has an axe to grind. Why? I have no idea. I haven't a clue who he was. There was a hard glare from him as he finally went his way while I went mine.
  2. caldrail

    Unsubtle Hints

    By caldrail,

    It's signing on day again, my fortnightly ritual designed to ensure my search for gainful employment is suitably renumerated. The process involves submitting evidence that you've actually done something to deserve handouts. I can see why they do that - the government don't want to pay people for sitting on their backsides - but the jobsearch booklet you have to fill in with all the details of the search creates a sort of pedantic 'schooltime' atmosphere. The claims advisors come across like frustrated teachers, some very authoritarian, others more sympathetic.
     
    A list of todays new vacancies proved to be a dissapointing collection of occupations I have no skill, experience, or ambition of. No pressure she tells me. Nonetheless, it feels like a test. To her credit, she did attempt to bolster my morale. "I'll see you next time... unless you get a job."
     
    Young Couple of the Week
    Occaisionally you get people at the library who are so engrossed in their own business that they forget no-one else wants to hear it. There's a young couple in the next booth. He keeps on trying to tease his girlfriend whilst she keeps on trying to wear the trousers. What makes it worse is that now that this young man has now reached puberty, so he has that annoying resonance in his voice that no matter how quietly he speaks you can still hear that monotone humming. Luckily a security guard wanders by and they stop punching each other. Ahhhhh.... Peace and quiet to let me carry on with my business....
     
    Oh no. She's arguing again.... How many times do I have to cough before they realise I'm about to demonstrate my unsubtle temperament? The girlfriend notices my hard stare... Take the hint lady. She punches her boyfriend to stop the arguement. He of course takes that as a challenge....
  3. caldrail

    Unwelcome Guests

    By caldrail,

    As I woke this mornign it was obvious the weather wasn't all too pleasant out there. Another rainy day? This has to be Swindon. The other day I was strolling home along the canal path. The weather was damp rather than rainy, a typical grey day for this part of the world. This being winter, green was in short supply. Most vegetation has withered away leaving pale yellow weeds and brown woody bushes.
     
    Allotment gardens, our modern re-invention of the medieval vegetable plot, look little better. A few wood and corrugated iron shanties, some with primitive greehouses, stand forlorn among the bamboo frames and grassy walkways between the featureless rectangles of muddy soil.
     
    Further along I expected a similar dreary scene at the abandoned playing field. This had been a sports centre in days gone by. Now the pavilion has gone, the outhouses demolished, tennis courts looking like anglo-saxon relics. However, I notice the field has been mown and the thick bushes and miniature moorland that had conquered the cricket field were visibly missing. The field was a flattened patchwork of green and ivory.
     
    Hang on... Was that a horse over there? I stopped and looked closer. Over by the east tennis courts a pair of horses idly grazed in between staring vacantly at anything that moved. I doubt these two steeds had mown the field all by themselves though I'm sure they'll a fine job of keeping the foliage back. It's an odd sight to see horses in a town centre. In this case, it seems unlikely that a responsible owner would leave animals there. Travellers?
     
    Of course the canal itself is also long gone. Now it's a long muddy grass strip and an asphalt footpath to one side. I find this a handy route from time to time and so do others, particularly the moslem chap in something of a hurry. Certainly no spring chicken but he was trotting down the path effortlessly. Very impressed with his fitness.
     
    Not so impressed with mine. Granted my health isn't what it was but a walk of this length shouldn't have me feeling like this. My medication comes with a warning that one possible side effect is tiredness. They weren't kidding.
     
    OnThe Ground
    Guess what? Word has leaked that despite assurances to the contrary the british had special forces on the ground in Libya during the anti-Gaddafi revolution E Squadron, a mix of SAS and SBS who work closely with MI6. Also unarmed plain clothes army officers helped coordinate rebel deployments. Why would anyone be suprised? If you send in jet fighter-bombers, nine times out of ten someones marking targets for them.
     
    Apart from news reports of sensational actions or the dubious descriptions in the popular press, my knowledge of the special forces is, to say the least, factually limited. I have a deep suspicion of anyone who claims to have been a member of the SAS. There are a lot of fakers out there and I'm told that such claims are commonplace among ex-servicemen seeking mercenary... sorry, security work. I've heard such claims myself and not one of them sounded genuine.
     
    By coincidence I'd spotted yet another novel by one of those Bravo Two Zero people. Andy McNab or Chris Ryan, I don't remember which one. Authentic? I suppose so. The thing is I was struck by how unlikeable the central character was. He was contemptuous of anyone and everyone, especially his colleagues whom he spent the first two chapters sneering at. It was all about a very opinionated and nasty man. Well, I realise warfare isn't about feather dusters and football in no-man's land, but surely even a military thriller ought to be enjoyable if it deserves the best seller list? Come back Tom Clancy, all is forgiven.
     
    Unwanted Visitors
    I see my home security system detected an attempt by someone to creep in last night while I was snoozing. His identity is already known to me, but he's welcome to provide proof of it if he wants.
  4. caldrail

    Up There

    By caldrail,

    Yesterday marks the point at which I truly became a rock star. Not because of millions of pounds in the bank, wild celeb parties in exotic locations, records in the charts, or thousands upon thousands of doting fans - nope, none of those which I freely admit aren't exactly part of my life experience - it's because yesterday I got recognised by a newer generation for my music. You have to ask how they stumbled across it, I mean, I was never a big draw back then, something like twenty five years ago, or since, and record sales were not making any impression on the public even in the days when we went out gigging to sell them. But they were, a group of kids who weren't even born when I gave up performing publicly, exercising their right to poor scorn upon my musical efforts. Hey, that's fame, you don't get the praise without the criticism.
     
    What shall I do with me new found fame, I wonder? I know, I'll tell more people about it. I think that's what you're supposed to do.... Can't remember....
     
    Big Bad And Bursting In
    I don't relish the chances of those Russians stationed on the far northern island of Svalbard right now. It seems that hungry polar bears, denied their natural habitat of pack ice, have done what bears end up doing everywhere else in the world and have started persuading the human beings nearby to stump a choice meal or two. The Russians are besieged in a none too friendly situation, and worse still, the young polar bears are learning that humans are weedy creatures who have lots of food to steal. A sleigh dog or too has already been eaten.
     
    I remember not too long ago a documentary about putting animals back in the wild. There are benefits to letting carnivores loose - it restores a natural balance and eventually leads to a more fertile and varied environment. Except bears. Put bears back in the wild and the first thing they do, not knowing where to find food, is to seek out human settlements where they almost instinctively know they can scavenge from. Like they do anyway.
     
    I wish those Russians on Svalbard well and hope they don't run out of flare cartridges too soon.
     
    Trip Home OF The Week
    It's a long walk home from work, so imagine my despair when the storm started an hour before I finished in the afternoon. It really did lash down intermittently. It was well humid too, almost tropical, and although not so hot as holiday destinations it was still well warm for a British September.
     
    Some of the lads in the changing room exchanged a few wry jokes about me having to walk in the torrential rain. Oh how they laughed, but as usual, I had come prepared. Not only that, I knew full well that the storms were in a line passing over the factory. A little south, where I was headed, it was bright and sunny. So not only did I manage to walk home, I didn't get soaked either. Result.
     
    Just one small point though.... Usually a colleague stops to offer a lift in his snazzy non-Honda. On that particular day, he drove right past me. Okay. I can deal with that.
  5. caldrail

    Upstairs Downstairs

    By caldrail,

    You don't have to look very hard to find stately homes in englands green and pleasant land. So prevalent was the landscaped parkland of the 18th century that people believe english countryside is supposed to look like that. Therefore to get our cultural fix, we english people sometime visit these stately homes and their pastoral surroundings.
     
    I've been dragged around a fair few stately homes as a child. They all seemed to be the same. Pastel labyrinths of grandiose furniture and anonymous portraits of very important people. The thing is, for all the display of opulence and excess, I always found it impossible to imagine life in the homes of the rich and powerful. Perhaps when I become rich and powerful I'll finally understand. I think the government have discerned my master plan because now they're planning a Mansion Tax.
     
    I've been visiting the grounds of Lydiard Park, our local stately home, since I was a child. Back then it really was in the countryside. Now it's a popular venue for walking dogs and kicking footballs for the local residents, although none of them could afford to live there either. Given the neighbours would use the front lawn as a playground, I can see why they wouldn't want to if they could afford it. But in all that time I've never been inside the house itself.
     
    Yesterday I was invited to visit that very house. Yes, I know, the first thing you see is a pastel labyrinth of grandiose furniture and anonymous portraits of very important people. That is of course expected of a stately home and indeed, it always was, even when they were lived in. And what a crowd lived in that house over the years. Some of them were important politicians in their day. One was a hellraising horse fanatic. One member of the family, Barbara Villiers, turns out to have been a lover of Charles II. She was, by all accounts, utterly shameless. Mind you so was he.
     
    That of course was the usual public tour. Everyone who goes inside the house discovers these things. However, as an invited guest, I got to see their cellars. Not a single skeleton. Imagine my disappointment. After years of Dungeons & Dragons you learn to expect certain standards.
     
    Better yet was a visit to the attic level. After following the crude walkways under the rafters I was shown small bedrooms here and there, tiny hovels for servants to stay out of the way when not being bossed about. No skeletons there either, but quite an insight to life among the slightly less well off in the days when owning a stately home was financially possible.
     
    Palace of the Week
    Of course if you own oil reserves a palace might not be beyond your resources, although I do note that it's difficult to avoid intervention from the armed forces of the western world if you do. Saddam Hussein owned thirty odd palaces and look what happened to him.
     
    I had to laugh at the news reports now that libyan rebels have broken in to one of Gaddafi's oil-funded homes. Expensive clothes? Conspicuous consumption? Why was anyone suprised?
  6. caldrail

    Urban Survival

    By caldrail,

    Every so often I see news footage of some disaster or conflict that results in people abandoning homes to live in tented shanties. Like most things reported by television, it's all very terrible and you know people are suffering, but the filmed sequences never really prepare you for the reality of it. After all, when you're watching these things, the chances are you're comfortable in a warm secure house with no particular worries except how to afford the bills.
     
    Just of late there's been a series of adverts asking for donations to feed starving africans. The images of listless and almost lifeless infants are something to stir pity, whilst the adverts as a whole attempts to stir guilt about our prosperity. A few quid every month and this woman can feed her kids. It's all very humane of course, but the problem with paying money to good causes is that it never seems to help, and in any case, if those infants survive, they breed kids of their own and the problem multiplies the next generation.
     
    That's a hard message isn't it? Unfortunately we're not exempt from the Rabbit and Fox diagram we studied as kids at school. If we can't find food, we starve. If we eat, we have have children. it's the same around the world. Much is made of green issues. Pollution, deforestation, species reduction, and so forth. Truth is, there are too many humans. Do you really want to do something about that to make life better for the lucky few? That's a harder message still.
     
    Recently I received a message from a lady who asked to get to know me. I'm always a bit wary of internet friendships, and the sites like Facebook never really draw my attention. It all seems very ethereal and meaningless. For some people, merely a popularity contest. Hardly real friendships in many cases. Still, you never know. Lonelieness is a plague in our modern anonymous society, and I do understand how that can affect people. So I replied on face value, a brief message to let the lady know she wasn't being rebuffed mercilessly.
     
    Today I received another email from her. A young african woman, very attractive, posing against a palm tree and explaining her difficult circumstances. I must admit, it looks very much like a honey trap. If the young woman is being honest and her life really is that difficult, then my heart goes out to her. On the other hand, it begins to look rather more like a blatant attempt to survive in somewhat wealthier circumstances than west africa can offer her. Boy, is she going to be disappointed.
     
    Survival of the Fittest
    There seems to be a new cat on the block. There it is. Black, white, and ginger splotches, easy to spot when it's prowling around the asphalt areas but no doubt all but invisible in shadows beneath foliage in winter and autumn. I've seen it out in the yard, patrolling its territory and looking for birds and vermin to play with. Once, as I opened the back window, it looked back at me from thirty yards away very suspiciously and kept an eye on me as it wandered toward a secluded part of the buildings on the street further away. What was it expecting? For me to leap onto the back roof, jump down into the yard, and chase it?
     
    Obviously that's all part of survival in the rainforests of Darlest Wiltshire. Might have to raise my game then. Where can I book a class in gymnastics?
     
    Survival of the Fastest
    There's been a few wonderful cars spotted driving through Swindon. Just the other day a silver Noble rumbled past with that slightly sharp exhaust note, a subdued hint of the screaming performance the car had available. This morning an old model Lotus Esprit was sat in the Old College car park, still resplendent in black and gold paint, a hangover from the glory days of Lotus's Forumal One days. Itmight be a seventies wedge design, harsh edges and lacking refinement, but it sure looks good. Great to see old sports cars are still surviving out there despite the best efforts of manufacturers, salesmen, politicians, and policemen.
     
    I wouldn't leave it there mate. Sports cars vanish in this area. I wonder if that cat knows anything about my missing Eunos? Hmmm....
  7. caldrail
    Among the swathes of destruction wreaked by mother nature recently, America is not denied its fair share of it. That much I can see in the news, although in fairness what it must be like to suffer floods and tornado's is thankfully beyond my experience. I wonder if all this damage to peoples lives is making Americans seek a life elsewhere? I ask that question because of late I've noticed an increasing number of americans in Swindon.
     
    For instance, there was the chap who glanced at me in a sort of curious appraisal as he set about walking his dog. He did look somehow detached in his manner, a sort of wariness about ordinary day to day living, something hard to explain unless you witness it. In fact I only knew he was american because his dog took a dislike to one owned by a local and he spoke to chap quite calmly as both dogs prepared for a life or death struggle for honour, tree-trunks, and the right to sniff butts.
     
    There is of course the jovial young american I know from the museum team. He's just got a job at a golf course. It's like Chevvy Chase made real. Nightmare.
     
    A couple of days ago I wandered up the hill for some fish and chips. That's becoming a rare delicacy to be savoured now that food prices are rising inexorably. So instead of the more usual cod, a fish almost cooked into extinction and almost the cause of a war between us and Iceland in decades past, I decided instead to order haddock. Not so tasty, but cheaper and less damaging to my conciense in these eco-friendly times.
     
    I waited in the queue as the american in front of me struggled with Hong Kong accents. Don't get embarrased mate, we all struggle with that. All part of British society. Eventually he took the meal, seeming a little suspicious that in some way he wasn't the victim of some kind of fiendish oriental ruse to extract more money than he thought was correct. That too is part of british society, my friend.
     
    Ordering My Chips
    Whilst I sympathised at his difficulties in negotiating the hazards of a chinese takeaway, I took a fdeep breath and plunged in with the confidence that years of practice give you. haddock and chips please.
     
    "Chips?"
     
    No, haddock and chips.
     
    "One pound forty."
     
    One pound forty? That's astonishingly cheap! Oh hang, he's only serving me with chips. Erm.. Excuse me?... I asked for haddock and chips?
     
    "Hadd..."
     
    Ha-ddock-and-chips. Haaaa-ddddddockkkk.
     
    "Haddock?"
     
    Yes mate. It's a fish you have on your menu. Looks like cod but tastes cheaper.
     
    "Haddock and chips?"
     
    Yes! I knew shouting louder would solve the problem. It's the british way.
     
    Emotional State
    Quite by chance I found myself assisting a lady of east european extraction with her computer programming. It's probably best not rto ask why, just that these situations occur sometimes. She was having a problem with little bitmaps and inevitably I started making humorous quips. Those who know me in the flesh will understand that my sense of humour is a test of patience for everyone else.
     
    However, she did seem amused. That, in retrospect, was probably a bad move, because if someone laughs at my jokes it only encourages me further. Eventually she could handle no more. It was a choice between computer programming and hysterics.
     
    "Please stop" She asked, "You are affecting my emotional state"
     
    Yeah? Rock on. I've had half a glass of wine this evening andit's only fair to warn you I'm a little out of control.
     
    Disaster of the Week
    My fridge has blown up. Obviously my car was its only friend and now the car is stolen, my fridge committed suicide in despair at facing life with only my jokes for company.
  8. caldrail

    Very Important People

    By caldrail,

    My second battle has been fought. I went to the bank to have my title changed and curiously enough, the somewhat bored bank clerk merely sighed, dismissed my certificates and patents with "Yeah I've seen it" and promptly did the necessary changes on the screen. That was painless, though he wasn't any more impressed than anyone else. Guess he sees it all the time...
     
    Now it didn't go all my own way. There's a load of notices and pamphlets at our local council that tell us they're keen on public service. Well it certainly looks encouraging, and I notice visiting VIP's get the red carpet, but us claimants? Stand over there ruffian.... Wait yer turn.... You! Get back into line!... Right, yo! That cubicle over there.... I'm sorry sir, but the rules say we can't do that....
     
    Don't these people know I'm a VIC? (Very Important Claimant). Sigh. So it's back home to collect all the available evidence, stomp back inside in a right foul mood, and push my way through their officious and obstructive behaviour.
     
    Our Council... Keeping plebs in place since 1896.
     
    Hang on a minute....
     
    Weather of the Week
    It just isn't giving up. With warmer temperatures and rain due to cross the country, we've had snow overnight. Quite a fall too, inches of it.
  9. caldrail
    Woke early this morning to the sound of demolition next door, as it appears the old college building is finally being pulled down. The older vicorian block is to be preserved and redeveloped as luxury flats, but the 60's eyesore attached to it is coming down. I spent five years studying there and funny enough, I don't feel any sadness at its passing. I must admit, I would be sorry to see my old high school vanish. There have been plans to close it
     
    Thats happened a lot in Swindon over the years. So many older buildings have gone. Even the replacement market hall, a curious construction resembling a circus tent, has closed for business and is to be redeveloped. Swindon knows how to live with the future, but it just can't live with its past. Its railway town heyday always seems to be something the place is embarrased of. Swindon is a joke used by comedians and tv presenters. The old image of dirty run-down workshops and soot encrusted brick terrace houses endures, and modern Swindon is a horrible mish-mash of old and new. Recently a big screen television has been erected at our local shopping center. What on earth for? Why would I want to stop and watch Sky News on my way to the supermarket? I can't change channels. A part of me says Swindon really should stop all this hapless beautification and be true to itself, to give the town an image more comfortable with its past.
     
    Too late for my senior school though. It was flattened and turned into housing and a social center years ago, which saddens me because I do have very fond memories of that place. So do others as I found out during my recent reunion bash. Its a shame the place has gone. Just one more victorian pidgeon nest hit the dust.
     
    Another Brick Removed From Brittania
    The House of Lords in Britain has decided to ratify the Treaty of Lisbon, despite its failure to secure agreement and a last minute defence by conservative politicians, not to mention a group of protestors remonstrating at them. Where is the referendum we were promised? Why am I not suprised?
     
    Inflation Busting Pay Rise of the Week
    I see the tanker drivers have been given a 14% pay rise over two years, bringing their pay over
  10. caldrail

    Visitors and Tourists

    By caldrail,

    The plumber was back early this morning. Apparently his previous repair hadn't solved the leaking water that my downstairs neighbour was so concerned about. He had every reason to be so, since it turns out the electrical wiring downstairs is uncomfortably close to the pipes. Anyway, the much harassed plumber rebuilt my bathroom in record time before I popped down to the library. Can't see any smoke coming from downstairs, so perhaps this time the problem is solved?
     
    Playgrounds
    The local paper has made a big deal about the renovation of childrens play areas around the town. I do wonder about that because I don't see kids using those facilities, which seem frequented by drug users more often. As an adult I also realise that using these facilities is going to draw attention to me, partly because it labels me as a mentally deficient person (I'm too old to have fun after all!) but also because solitary adults socialising with kids is a definite no-no these days. Therefore I'll not bother with the playgrounds, and I suspect the kids won't either because it's just too uncool compared to playstations and mobile phones (or even copying more adult behaviour), so the drug users in Swindon can be assured that the Council is looking after their native enviroment.
     
    Tourist Trap of the Week
    Is none other than our very own Swindon. Despite its grey and rainy image, and the fact that some major renovation schemes in the town have been cancelled due to economic downturns and banking cock-ups, Swindon is pressing ahead with plans to make our red brick town a place for tourists to stop by and relax.
     
    I also note that in an editorial column Swindon was defended on the grounds that its critics are using obselete and incorrect opinion. Thanks for the tip. I'll take another wander around the town and see what I find. My guess is that it's pretty much the same as yesterday.
  11. caldrail
    Well would you believe it? Stephen Hawking, one of the worlds most foremost scientists, has announced that aliens almost certainly exist and that we shouldn't meet them because they'll be horrible to us and nick all our resources. Joking aside, I agree the risks of cultural shock are very real and as I've written a couple of times in the past, contact with more powerful and sophisticated civilisations isn't such a good thing. I also note that it's taken until now to for Mr Hawking to reach that conclusion thus I can justifiably claim to be cleverer than he is. I am ahead of his time.
     
    In fact, Mr Hawking uses real-world analogies to make his point, quoting the example of the european conquistadors arriving in central america. He might also have pointed at the kago cults of the pacific region, where jungle tribesmen build bamboo 'radios' to contact the 'iron birds' that bring food and other good stuff, having experienced the logistics of world war two for themselves. Now as for Hawkings idea that these creatures would be nomads on vast interstellar ships, I have to say that's merely imagination however convenient it may seem to his ordered mind. There are any number of other possibilities, and as I'm sure he'll admit (seeing as he wants to remain gainfully employed), we don't know everything yet.
     
    I know there are people who believe aliens are already here, visiting for the purposes of barbeques and abductions in the name of experiment and erotic sex, and that Area 51 is where we get our own back on them for doing that, but apart from lots of special effects in the skies there really isn't any hard evidence. So one theory dating back to the eighties is that clever and paranoid aliens have built robotic starships packed with terrible weaponry that home in on any sign of civilisation and remove their potential rivals with big ray guns. So that's why we don't get any answers to our our hails (besides the huge distances and times these electromagnetic messages must traverse). All the recipients are already zapped.
     
    Oh yeah. I forgot. Didn't the Maya predict the end of the world in December 2012? Well they should know. They've suffered it once already at the hands of the Spanish.
     
    More Aliens
    Ridley Scott is to make two prequels to the Alien films. He's working on the first already, and in it we get to find out who the 'space jockey' in the original film was. Get a move on Ridley. The world ends in two years.
  12. caldrail

    Voices Raised In Anger

    By caldrail,

    Employment agencies are the bane of the jobseeker. Love them or loathe them, anyone on Jobseekers Allowance sooner or later must do business with them during their search for work.The problem is that these agencies aren't interested in finding you work - you're just not that important - but instead need to shove you into the first convenient role to fulfill their contractual obligations and profit margins.
     
    Unlike employers, agencies always do things at the last minute. There's always a sense that if you don't immediately agree to be enslaved then someone else will, the point being that they get paid for signing away their freedom and human rights whereas you get left with having to explain your failure to a claims advisor. Just today I struggled through the gale force winds to attend a work registration run by an agency, only to discover my on-going opportunity was merely two weeks casual labour. "It was in the email" He assured me. No, pal, it wasn't.
     
    This sort of thing happened to me a few days ago. I was at the ocal shopping mall, my mission to buy some frozen chips, when my mobile phone activated itself for the first time this year. Hello? The call was from a desperate recruitment agent. Can I start work early tomorrow morning? Errm....
     
    You see, my world has pretty much ground to a halt. My day was planned to the last detail. Go to the mall. Buy frozen chips. Go home. Cook chips for dinner. Sorted. Then this frantic guy on the other end of the phone wants to meet me at the local library to sign me up for a job on the outskirts of the known world and suddenly my brain starts remembering all the things I ought to have done by now and hadn't planned for. Seriously, you get so used to very simple lifestyle decisions as an unemployed person that conversations involving decisions on whether to do the right thing and return to the workplace before sunrise tomorrow actually become stressful.
     
    Eventually I agreed. There was nothing in his sales patter that meant the job was not for me, so I accepted that my fate was sealed. That meant I would have to notify the support centre, the dole office, Swindon Council, or anyone else with a vested interest in knowing whether I work for a living. A busy afternoon then. Here goes...
     
    Then he suggested we meet for a registration interview at the local library. Huh? Why the library? Apparently his office was way out of the town centre. It was just easier for all concerned. Okay. So I ended the call, bought my frozen chips, went home, had some chips for dinner, and then waited at the library as agreed.
     
    He never showed up. All I got afterward was a text message telling me he couldn't make it and that he'd speak to me later. He didn't. Is it just me, or did I just get used in some way?
     
    Threat of the Week
    There was a time when you could walk the streets in Swindon without hassle. Now little children hurl dog poo for a laugh, and youths trty to enforce territorial rights on passers-by like petty gangsters. Just today some acne-ridden wretch busy trying to make his secondhand hatchback look 'hot' said "Don't come this way again" in a hideously immature tone.
     
    Look mate, if by some quirk of fate you learned how to read and happen to be reading this instead of Facebook, then I have to tell you I was walking along a public thoroughfare. Since I was only going about my lawful business, you mind yours, and by the way, where did you get the money for that car?
  13. caldrail

    Wait Here...

    By caldrail,

    Yesterday was signing on day. My fortnightly ritual has now changed from late in the afternoon to first thing in the morning, except that no-one seems entirely sure when. I approached the reception and handed them my booklet. The young man glanced at it and very helpfully told me to go away and come back in half an hour. Then he noticed some other detail on the page and looked confused.
     
    "Wait here please."
     
    Wait? At a dole queue? Thats novel....
     
    Initiative of the Week
    It seems our security concious land is about to train store managers in anti-terrorist techniques. Wow. I'd better be careful the next time I get shoddy service at the till. Sharp suited operators abseiling down ropes with submachine guns and wrestling me to the floor, yelling "Don't Move!".
     
    Come on mate, all I want is a plastic bag.
  14. caldrail

    Wake Up!

    By caldrail,

    At some point, somehow, I must have upset my neighbour downstairs. I can tell what mood they're in generally by listening, given how much noise goes through the floorboards. Yep, he's slamming doors in the early morning. That means he's had hardly any sleep last night and wants me to wake up too. It's like living with a cantakerous alarm clock that speaks a foreign language.
     
    Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard you. Oh good grief it's not even nine o'clock yet. Time to roll over, shut those eyes, and snooze for a another hour or two. Does that sound lazy? Nooo of course not. I have lots of very important sstuff to do today and oversleeping is not recommended. Or possible.
     
    All Fair In Love And War
    I see that some are demanding that Gaddafi's son must have a fair trial. After all the hoo-haa of his father's demise, I'm sure the new lean mean still slightly green Libya wants to be seen as an emerging mature friendly nation. So I suggest giving him an hours headstart. Lock and load chaps.
     
    Don't Panic! Don't Panic!
    Late into the night I roused myself from the dull witted stupor caused by watching a Jackie Chan movie and fill in my paperwork for the fortnightly benefit claim. Except I couldn't, because the rucksack the papers were stowed in was missing. Oh no!
     
    People usually regard me as a well organised person. If only they knew. Yet I too am afflicted with a measure of chaos and absent mindedness like everyone else. Where is it? Where's my rucksack? Yes, I was having one of those little drama's that make life such a frustrating experience.
     
    Quickly I searched the house. Did I leave the folder or the rucksack anywhere other than its normal resting place. Nope. Have I been burgled? Please tell me someone hasn't managed to penetrate the stout walls of Castle Caldrail.
     
    Things like this always leave me feeling unsettled. Some people have an ability to shrug, roll over back to sleep, and nonchalantly make excuses the next day (and in all probability, get irate afterward when they don't get what they expected). Before I embarras myself with a call to the police there was just one possibilityleft. Maybe I'd left the sack somewhere else without realising...
     
    Yes. On Friday I strode away from the library completely oblivious to the fact my belongings were stuffed under a table. It's a wonder the library never held a bomb alert - that's what usually happens when suspicious containers are left unattended. Shame on you library. Mind you, thanks for not asking the army to blow my rucksack up harmlessly. That would have been a disaster. At least it would in my tiny little chaotic world.
     
    Right. Forms filled. Time to brave the dangers of the Job Centre and their man eating inhabitants.
  15. 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?
  16. caldrail
    The weather forecast had already warned us of storms crossing Britain late into the night. As luck would have it, I was on a late shift, and that meant walking home during the period when I was most likely to be drenched in minutes or used by nature to light the vicinity when hit by lightning. There was every risk of both, and to be honest, I’ve always had a policy of avoiding such weather conditions by the clever use of indoors. Not last night then.
    One colleague at work told me that storms were already crossing France and would be here in two hours. Really? That would require winds in excess of gale force. There was barely a breeze and whilst thirty odd degrees centigrade isn’t hot by some standards around the globe, for Britain it was sweltering. In any case the winds weren’t from France, but the Atlantic southwest, as usual. Damp air then. Perfect for the odd electrical storm. I have to say working to very high targets in that sort of humid temperature was not for the faint hearted. By the close of shift, I was, as they say, ker-nackered.
    So. Time to go home. Almost as soon as I left the premises the display started. Around the sky flickers of light went off almost continuously, an extraordinary sight and one I found quite weird given not a rumble of thunder could be heard. I could see the mass of storm cells encroaching on Swindon. Sooner or later the rain would start. I wonder? Could I make it to the McDonalds outlet about halfway home without incurring a sudden outbreak of dampness? It worked. I made it to the rest stop barely seconds before the first cloudburst opened up. Perfect. Fast food, dry shelter, and bewildered staff to impress with my knowledge of storms.
    “Ahh” Said one McDonald droid, “it’s stopped. I can go home now.”
    You think? I’m staying here for another hour yet. He chuckled and headed for the door only to be greeted with a huge fork of lightning over the area. Your move mate.
    Cunning Move
    Whilst I was walking to McDonalds I spotted a fox on the other side of the road. Normally at that distance they either don’t care, or find a more discreet place to be. This one simply hunkered down. I know mate, it is warm isn’t it?
    Howls Of Badgers
    Badgers are the quietest of animals. They snuffle around, usually looking happy as Larry, but a week or two ago I encountered one on a footpath going home. Badgers aren’t the most alert of creatures. I’ve often walked very close to them before they realised I was there, but always they scarper, and scarper quickly they can. This one saw me coming and hooted very loudly. Wow. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard a badger. A born sergeant major that one.
    Big Beetles
    On the outskirts of an industrial estate I saw movement on the road, again lat at night. This was a black beetle, alarmingly huge. Two or three inches long, much larger than anything I’ve seen plodding around British countryside. This one was not only large, but fast too, scurrying around like demon possessed. A foreign import off a lorry? We don’t usually get beetles like that outside of zoos.
    Boris Of The Week
    This week’s star prize goes to our new Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, who takes over from Theresa May today. There’s a sort of inevitable aspect to his new found glory. Can he sort out the mess and get a deal on Brexit past the hordes of British MP’s determined to frustrate the British public’s decision to leave Europe? The battlefield is the same as it’s been for three years and cost May her job. Who knows, perhaps the outsize beetle was an omen. Perhaps the gods welcomed Boris with a spectacular lightning display. Somehow I doubt he got rained on last night.
  17. caldrail

    Walking With Aliens

    By caldrail,

    Sometimes at night I look up at the stars, and like everyone else, I wonder if there's anyone out there. Sentient creatures, aliens, living out their lives and who knows? - Maybe plotting galactic domination as we speak? To a rational mind that's mostly paranoia and a reflection of the Cold War values that spawned the popularity of alien invasion myth, though I dio note that stories of alien inansions are nothing new. HG Wells classic War of the Worlds postulated the events in his late victorian world of a battle against tripodal aliens whose healthcare was sadly lacking.
     
    So it seems then that alien invasions aren't entirely the idea of Hollywood moguls or Pentagon generals, but a facet of human psychology. In medieval times, people talked of 'Dog-Heads', strange intelligent creatures from an unknown place far away who lurked in shadows and got up to all sorts of machinations.... Sounds familiar doesn't it?
     
    There are those of a certain mindset who claim that an alien race reaching our planet couldn't possibly be aggressive, because the need to co-operate to achieve that level of science would mean only a peaceful society could do that (distances between star systems are enormous and difficult to comprehend, not to mention difficult to to deal with). That's an optimistic view of course, from people who want to meet aliens and discuss science, philosophy, and the arts on an equal footing with intelligent creatures not of this Earth. I have a sneaking feeling these people are also quite lonely, because the average Earthling hasn't a clue about their favourite subjects and leaves the room when to guzzle beer whenever it comes up in conversation.
     
    Would aliens be peaceful or aggressive? The truth is, we can't know that. An alien species would have behaviour described by the sort of creature they evolved from, changed by their history and circumstance. Survival of the fittest would be as true on an alien world as our own so a dominant species wouldn't dominate without some ability to do so. How would they see us? As potential friends? Spiritual brothers? Curiosities? Resources? Enemies? Fodder? Experimental subjects? Or pests? We just can't second-guess how an alien mind would regard our self-important little species.
     
    Now that the British have followed America with freedom of information legislation, the files of governmental activity have revealed the extent to which the British public has encountered UFO's. Some of it is quite incredible and some clearly the imaginings of people who aren't sure what it is they've seen and are trying to find rational explanations in ignorance. It is, in fact, a very medieval way of thinking in some cases. But then, since we are essentially a pack animal and respond to outsiders in very instinctual ways, is it no suprise that all these conspiracy theories about aliens amongst us exist in what is supposed to be an educated world? Lets face it, in my area, people who have spent twelve years of their childhood lives (or more) at school still behave like boisterous chimpanzees.
     
    Somehow I suspect that intelligent peace loving aliens wouldn't be seen dead trying to discuss intellectual matters with the average human. More to the point, I suspect those peace loving aliens are looking up at the night sky on some distant world and wondering if there's intelligent life out there, just like us. Keep looking guys, we're all too busy arguing about where to put the fence and whether you're going to invade us.
     
    Dog Heads of the Week
    It has become the stuff of urban legend that the American authorities have 'covered up' UFO activity and that the infamous Project Blue Book was nothing more than a feint to distract the public from the 'real' investigation. All this talk of 'Greys' and 'Men In Black' is exactly the sort Dog-Headed nonsense we were dealing with seven hundred years ago. I can safely dismiss those urban legends because I have discovered the truth. I can't tell you of course because the government will assassinate me if I divulge that. Wow, this conspiracy stuff is easy....
  18. caldrail

    Warm And Cold

    By caldrail,

    Shopping? Done. Interview at the job agency? Done. Gas account cancellation? Done. On my daily checklist I had only the obligatory online job search to do, so off to the library for another struggle with Microsoft's worst.
     
    Balloons? What's going on here? It's usually excessively warm in our local library but there seemed to be a much livelier atmosphere, and evidence of small scale partying. Worse still, as I ascended the stairs a jazz band started up, creating a very genteel background noise, like the sort of music you get in resteraunts.
     
    Years ago our band was driving through London along the embankment on our way home from a gig in early hours of the morning. We passed that odd resteraunt that stands on the riverside by itself between the trees, and our singer, Dave, commanded that the van be brought to a halt. Enough was enough. We'd all noticed the place every timne we went this way and finally his curiosity could bear no more. He had to find out what it was like in there. So I parked up for a while as a slightly inebriated folk-rock singer tried to gain access.
     
    The bouncers actually let him in to have a look. Apparently it was a very strange mystical experience with a rock band doing the impossible by playing at low volume as the clientelle ignored them in favour of expensive morsels and famous brand wines, and finally Dave re-emerged with the advice to bring a tie next time if he wanted to come in and eat. Sadly we were all struggling musicians without a penny between us, so that never happened,
     
    Okay, reminicense over, back to the library. I was expecting to be distracted by the music, but strangely, the easy listening tunes suited the mood and I got on - I strongly suspect I was typing in unison with the beat, but don't tell anyone.
     
    A guest singer was introduced who completely tortured 'Summertime' to death. Clearly not a finalist in X Factor then. Whether she was supposed to sing one song or not, that was it, and the band called everyone together before they found something interesting to do. A chorus of 'Happy Birthday' explained the change of pace. Oddly enough, when the band finished, the library started to empty. Maybe the guest singer was planning to sing again?
     
    Cold Facts
    I must be honest, now that my flat has no heating I am starting to notice the cold. Not for the first time, I have to say, just that now I can't do much about it except report my shivering on this blog.
     
    I notice that an MP has warned the gas companies not to use their customers as cash cows. Too late for me, I've already escaped the meadow, and worringly I quickly noticed newspaper headlines at the supermarket. A sharp freeze expected. Four inches of snow expected. Oh great.
     
    Well at least I live in Swindon. Thankfully our much maligned town doesn't seem to be greatly affected by weather - we never suffer the extremes you see on the evening news. One winter, the whole country was inundated with snow, drifts up to six feet deep, but Swindon? Not a flake. With luck the snow will pass us by this year too.
  19. caldrail

    Warm Weekend

    By caldrail,

    Across the country, six million cars are parking themselves in traffic jams on their way to somewhere more expensive than usual. Yes, it's another Bank Holiday Weekend. For those of you who don't understand British culture, it's our way of imitating lemmings.
     
    Traditionally the weather always rains on holiday weekends. It's as if the sum effect of all those car exhausts isn't carbon dioxide at all, but water, as the rainclouds make our intended holidays as miserable as possible - unless you happen to be at a music festival that is.
     
    It really is a fine day out there. Yesterday tried to be, the sun fighting a life or death struggle with blanketing cloud and succeeding by evening. There was a noticeable change in the air last night as the sun emerged into a pale blue sky, low on the horizon, and lighting everything in golden tones. You could literally smell the warm air.
     
    I know this sounds odd, but everyone seemed happy. The neighbours weren't arguing. Houses in the neighbourhodd with open windows and music turned down to a moderate level. Car drivers behaving politely toward pedestrians and letting us cross the road.
     
    Or is that because all the idiots are away on holiday?
     
    Chilling Out
    The good weather on this Bank Holiday Weekend seems to be effecting other people too. Miners in Chile are trapped underground and may be there until christmas before rescuers can dig a tunnel to get them out. Yet on the news, they were happy, upbeat, and telling everyone not to worry.
     
    I hope they get out okay. After all, the Bank Holiday Weekend doesn't last forever.
  20. caldrail

    Warmer And Colder

    By caldrail,

    To us British, the depths of a midwest American winter is something of an alien experience. We just don't get that sort of weather here,, with our milder atlantic climate, or at least not usually. The winters of 1961 and 1947 are exceptions of course, savage reminders that nature hasn't forgotten us.
     
    on the other hand, the glorious photographs of winter in railroad magazines are well known to me. Whilst I haven't experienced that sort of climate for real, I have become familiar with that monochrome wilderness and the extraordinary coating of frozen moisture it leaves as a calling card.
     
    Except... For the first time I witnessed a modest version in Swindon today. As I trudged through the thick frost on the darkening sky of the early evening, with that sharp relentless chill, watching the last crimson embers on the cirrus clouds against a yellow horizon, I became aware that here, here in Swindon of all places, successive frosts were building a similar vision of winter right under my nose. Beautiful. Cold, but beautiful.
     
    Talk of the Devil
    As we sat out the tea break and made frequent if shortlived attempts to make conversation as we briefly defrosted from our session in the unheated warehouse out back, the subject got around to women. It usually does with gatherings of men. We do like to relate anecdotes of sexual conquest both real and imagined, but in fairness, this was a more honest sort of exchange in which our human failings provided the laughs.
     
    The subject matter began inexorably to focus on the woman who runs the training site. Normally she's busy, businesslike, and as we all noticed, one senses a certain threat of a poison sting lurking under that friendly if somewhat guarded manner of hers. No sooner had we discussed her merits as an object of conquest, the gossip concerning things we shouldn't know about, and our league table of probability, she turned up in her car. There you go, talk of the devil...
     
    I think she was impressed by our friendly smiles and warm conviviality. She might not be if she knew what we were thinking. Or then again, perhaps she knew full well what was going on as she's a mature lady with long experience of working class males. At any rate, she was kind enough to provide funding for a replacement heater or two for the warehouse, now that the gas burning jet engine in one corner has finally surrendered to the onslaught of winter and lack of fuel.
     
    Never hurts to smile, does it?
  21. caldrail

    Warning Signs

    By caldrail,

    Iraq has been returned to sanity. Libya has been returned to sanity. Egypt, Tunisia, and Yemen are undergoing counselling. Afghanistan was always a pretty insane place to begin with and so far has proven difficult to pacify. Now President Assad of Syria has spotted the trend and warns the west that intervention will cause an earthquake that will burn the whole region.
     
    Now apart from his complete ignorance of geology, this does sound like the usual arabic vitriol. "Rivers of blood" is another popular warning. You get the idea? One might wonder if Assad is feeling a bit exposed at the moment now that the worlds media have no other middle eastern country creating any news stories worth reporting.
     
    I have no idea if the western governments plan to liberate Syria from despotism. They have been keen to aid the overthrow of them just lately, and as for worrying about how Gaddafi died, that would seem to be little more than crocodile tears. That's the problem with regime change - it has lethal ramifications.
     
    In democracies you can simply oust your least favourite dictator by marking an X on a ballot paper. In many foreign lands, they don't generally take any notice of other peoples opinions and ultimately if the decision is made that the tyrant has to go, you might need to apply something a little more forceful, like a riot of armed men or a battering from military jets.
     
    Well Mr Assad, I can understand your concerns. You might want to reform a little bit quicker. That might impress the west rather better than a shaking fist.
     
    Tremors
    On the news pages I spotted an article telling us chaps how to watch out for mini-strokes. Like the persistent earth tremors that warn of an impending eruption, these mini-strokes are tell tale signs that a major stroke will occur within four weeks.
     
    Good grief, I've had those symptoms for twenty years. Not sure whether I should be relieved or worried. The article says phone 999 immediately. Should I warn the doctor that there will be rivers of blood? Decisions... Decisons...
     
    Look Left, Look Right
    This has been a weekend of idiocy on the roads. Drivers are going the wrong way up one way streets, pedestrians are running in front of cars, and bus drivers have lost any sense of safe braking distances. Not to worry. The clocks went back an hour this morning so everyone should be calm and accident free again.
     
    Stand Up
    There's a standing joke at the museum - literally. When I'm sat there on duty at the front desk no-one comes in. The moment I stand up and walk away, crowds rush through the entrance in a mad desperate bid to pay for a ticket.
     
    Your first thought might be that I'm frightening people away. Apparently not. Last night I was sat quietly doing boring un-weekend stuff when I heard a voice in the street say "The truth is you're a wuss."
     
    Actually the truth is your opinion means nothing. Face it kid, you don't amount to anything. So why should I be worried because you have a big mouth? Oh, and by the way, I couldn't tell if you were a boy or a girl. Sorry about that.
  22. caldrail
    For some strange reason the museum sells plastic balls that play voices from Family Guy. Only one on the premises actually works. We know, because we conducted a quality test this morning. I guess you had to be there.
     
    Missed Call
    My mentor at the programme centre is getting a little anxious. She's keen to get me a job before I finish the course and the frequency of her emails has gone up an order of magnitude. What makes it worse is that she doesn't seem to understand I have no internet connection at home, thus she sends an email containing some vacancy specs, followed by an email asking me to contact her, then an email telling me she's applied on my behalf anyway.
     
    Anything else? No, that seems to be it. By now she's probably suffering from stress and anxiety attacks in the futile hope that I'll answer my mobile phone too. So this morning I left the programme centre having left a job application untouched for twenty four hours completely unaware. I am going to get soooo slapped next week...
     
    In Other News
    The museum's robot was fired up this morning. It worked too. It was really spooky watching the thing flex its fingers menacingly. After performing what resembled a stiff legged dance it started complaining in a monotone distorted voice.
     
    I am not making this up. The destruction of Mankind begins here.
  23. caldrail
    My world is very quiet of late, apart from the odd squabble among among my neighbours. About the only event worthy of note is the inspection of the property by my letting agent. They do tell me that they're not overly concerned at my lifestyle or how tidy the place is, but my days as an air cadet still afflict me with an instinctive desire to avoid having to clean the place all over again until I can eat my breakfast off it.
     
    So I had a bit of tidy up. That didn't hurt, did it?
     
    Plans
    The latest plans for Queens Park are posted at the library. Now that the council has disbanded the parks department to save money they might stop ripping all the foliage out of the park. Or will they? Time for me to head down to the display boards and find out what is going on.
     
    More Weather
    There's more warnings of persistent cold weather to come. That's the trouble with february. Almost every year it does this. Just when you think winter is all over and you've gotten away with it, along comes icy blasts from Siberia or the North Pole.
     
    It's supposed to be the coldest day this winter so far but it doesn't feel like that. Certainly not warm but there's none of that sharp coldness that demands long johns and gloves. Now that I've been warned things are getting colder, should I rush out and purchase protective warm clothing? My own attitude is very much that I've suffered far worse in the past and that I can hack it and so on. Then I saw one of those television experts telling us that older people do tend to say that before they die horribly of hypothermia. I've been warned.
     
    Whinge Of The Week
    I see Argentina is whinging to the UN because Britain sent a warship to the Falkland Islands. They say it's 'militarising' the area. I'm sorry, didn't Argentina send an entire army there in 1982 and leave a legacy of minefields all over the islands?
  24. caldrail

    Was Your Day Dull?

    By caldrail,

    Who amongst you had a dull monday? A fair few of you I'll bet, but I'm afraid my monday was probably duller than yours. It was one of those days when the whole town just seemed to say "I can't be bothered".
     
    I did see an interesting bit of aerial combat between a crow and a gull at the park. The crow was faster and kept on catching up, but that agile gull certainly had the edge on manoeverability. Here we have a perfect opportunity to witness evolution as it happens. Only the fittest will survive and grow machine guns in the wings.
     
    A chap wandered along the front of the lake throwing breadcrumbs for the crowd of waterfowl following his progress. His dog was bored by this and decided to chase the birds away, just for fun you understand. He did look pleased with himself, walking back to his master with a raised wagging tail. The owner was oblivious and continued to throw breadcrumbs anyway.
     
    No Dull Life For Him
    Somewhere out there is DW, our intrepid online journalist. I know he's out there somewhere because I receive an email alert every time he does something on facebook, which happens roughly every ten minutes. That's almost exactly what a young chap needs to eat, drink, sleep, and find a girlfriend. He showed me the pictures of her. Nice girl, and really nice of her to let him out for the evening before he collapses of exhaustion. There's only so many times you can type an update on facebook before you get tired.
     
    No Dull Life For Me
    Now what's this? An email from an arab sheik? I guess these things happen when you assume nobility. Let's see what he wants... Two russian transport aircraft urgently required. Immediate cash payment. What the...?
     
    Every so often things like this happen. My life has become surreal to the point that I'm almost living in my own Hollywood thriller, except when I sign on and pretty much for the rest of the fortnight. Where on earth does a benefits claimant lay his hand on two russian transports and flight crew? As initiative tests go this is a corker. I know. I'll phone my mate Dave.
     
    Ring Ring... Ring Ring...
     
    "Hallo."
     
    Hi Dave, it's me.
     
    "Who?"
     
    Me. Listen up, how's work treating you?
     
    "Uhh... You know, sort of okay, sort of. My van needs a new exhaust but the miissus wants me to take her an' the kids on holiday. Thinkin' of Cyprus... Lanzarote...."
     
    Yeah that's great. Listen, can you lay your hands on two Antonov transport aircraft by Sunday?
     
    "Eh? No, mate, we're going by Easyjet."
  25. caldrail
    After the last two days of dull wetness, this morning was a welcome relief. The sun is shining, the skies are blue, and before I get too lyrical about how wonderful the british weather is right now, it's also very chilly out there.
     
    Today is a day for relaxing. It shouldn't be really, seeing as it's a normal working day in the middle of the week (most wednesdays are, for those who haven't spotted that curious fact), but it just feels as if it should be.
     
    However, the gleeful warnings of impending doom have been issued from the television weather people. The next few days show great swathes of blue contours sweeping across Britain and with it lots and lots of rain. Don't be too suprised if tomorrows blog entry is entitled "Drowned Rats".
     
    Out Shopping
    There comes a time in a mans life when he must, simply must, obtain new underwear. I have finally reached that milestone in my life. I think I reached it once or twice before, but thankfully I wasn't permanently traumatised.
     
    So I popped into the department store I knew from my work placement, as I also knew their prices were reasonable and that they were likely to understand what I was talking about when I gave up the search for the necessary item and asked one of their staff for assistance. As it turned out, I spotted a familiar face, Miss G, and immediately I made a beeline for her so I could ask her where to find men's underpants. It would save me a lot of hassle you see.
     
    She looked at me approaching with her usual "Oh God no, not him!" expression. I deserve it really. I used to tease her a lot and to this day I don't think the poor girl understood why. Anyway, I asked her where I could find men's underpants.
     
    Ordinarily that might seem a strange thing to say to an attractive young lady, but she merely directed me to the basement. I found my underpants, she was free to go doing shop assistant stuff without any teasing from me, and all was well. Life goes on.
     
    New Coat OF Paint
    The old cinema across the road from the library has received some attention lately. After a long spell as a bingo hall, it now has a brand new logo bolted to the wall in big black letters upon a fresh coat of white paint. Where it once displayed "Mecca", the name of the bingo chain who ran the premises, it now says "Meca". Either there's been some commercial rebranding going on, or the state of British educatiion has finally fileterd down to the heady and exciting world of bingo hall management.
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