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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  2. caldrail
    What should a man believe in? A soldier would say you should believe in yourself. A politician would say believe in his vision. A christian would say believe in Jesus. It seems then that there is a choice of what you can believe, and inevitably, there's always persuasion or pressure to conform to someone elses ideals. In some situations, conformity is understandable. A soldier does what he's ordered to do because life gets very uncomfortable if he doesn't. You generally do what politicians want because otherwise they jail you. Most of us have no intention of being burnt at the stake.
     
    The problem here is that conformity isn't just expected, its enforced, with potentially dire consequemces for those who cannot submit. This is the extreme end of this facet of human social behaviour. There is also the that endless recruiting that goes on, the knock on the door from one christian sect or another, the pamphlets or cult newsletters through the letterbox. The symbolism is often well illustrated, but if you think about it, surely the promulgation of stereotypical images require a latent acceptance of christian belief to start with? Since I have no belief in Jesus as the son of some invisible omnipresent super-being, it was hardly likely to work. Sometimes, there's someting more insidious, as religious people manipulate things to bring you around to their way of thinking.
     
    Researching roman slavery, I delved into the works of a roman writer, Cassius Dio. Constantly he refers to slavery as a lack of free will, describing Marc Antony as a slave of his egyptian mistress as much as a conquered people led away in chains. Its a view I can readily understand given the attempts to fit me into a particular stereotype that have gone on for years. I dislike this pressure to change.
     
    One of the things I hate most about christianity is the attitude that the end justifies the means, that any sin may be committed and forgiven if the perpetrator (or his judge) believes or proclaims he acted in his religions name..Fate is the sum of all decisions and natural forces, and since God is merely a human concept and has no reality beyond an excuse for human decision, there cannot therefore be an act of God, which renders prayer pointless apart from proving your conformity to your peers. Or perhaps giving you a psychological rock to cling to when life gets stormy? After all, christianity - like many other religions - relies on psychological dependence to an unseen omnipotent being whose existence is a matter of faith.
     
    For the record, I'm a spiritualist. Not a standard spiritualist at all, but someone with a more individualistic belief structure which I have to say is pretty typical of me. It reflects my nature as a human being. In my worldview, the world is how the world is. I cannot see the world in any other way, for that is the evidence of my experience. Its that experience that leads me to be a spiritualist.
     
    My mother, as a devout practising christian, prays for just about everything, mostly that I'll come to my senses and discover God. She has this strange idea that I'm a stray sheep, who will someday realise that I need to rejoin the flock. To me thats ridiculous. I was never really a christian to begin with, and since I've adopted my beliefs as my own personal worldview I see no reason to adopt the pomp and ceremony of a religion I regard as hopelessly hypocritical and anachronistic.You see, belief is what you hold to be true. Religion is organised belief, and in most cases, its what someone tells you to believe. Since I do not formalise my beliefs, add pointless ritual, nor listen to preachers, it must be said that I do not subscribe to religion. Since I do not therefore expect a divine agency to put my world to rights, the obstacles placed before my progress are the work of people, not some supernatural curse. Those individuals seeking to manipulate my beliefs and entice me to become christian are barking up the wrong tree. So, whoever is trying it on, at least have the moral courage to stand before me and make your case.
     
    There was once an arab, who, having experienced the medieval crusaders handiwork, wrote that - Jews, christians, and moslems are all the same. In truth there are only two sorts of men - those with brains and no religion - and those with religion and no brains...
  3. caldrail
    Right. Now for another glimpse into the daily life of Caldrail, or perhaps an in-depth shock expose of goings on in my local community, or failing that, a commentary on world events?
     
    Well I would... But I can't. My daily life isn't something I've gotten yet, as I was unpolitely reminded by yobboes in the street last night. The screams of party girls and the drunken demonstrations of manliness (as perceived by ape descended lifeforms) is of no suprise to regular readers of this blog and certainly not shocking if you're acquainted with the average working class Briton.
     
    As for world events, it's all gotten completely depressing. Browsing the headlines on the net just now tells me that North Korea has just launched seven more satellites into the Pacific, another African has hitched a ride on an airliners undercarriage and discovered how cold it gets at thirty five thousand feet, bits of airliner are being found everywhere, people are being found dead years after phoning a helpline, and basically there's a lot of shooting going on.
     
    That leaves me with a quandary... What do I write about today? The weather? It's warm and humid. Like yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. And... Well okay, you get the message. It is summer after all. Just the right conditions for a ride in an open topped sports car! I know. What about cars? Surely some rare and exotic vehicle has cruised past leaving me envious and wishing I really was a rock supergod? Ahhh... Nope.
     
    Basically the most interesting thing over the last twenty four hours was having my job search reviewed and being told they couldn't think of anything else to write about me.
     
    Busker of the Week
    On the main shopping street through Swindons busy Saturday afternoon was that old guy, outside the card shop (as he always is), giving a bravura solo performance on his harmonica. He's blissfully happy. Sadly the shoppers grimace and wander past pretending not to notice him, apart from a small child who seems utterly entranced by this geriatric Pied Piper of Swindon. My worry is that this childs musical education is now forever distorted by his experience. Luckily the kid is too young to write an entry in his blog about it.
  4. caldrail
    I'm watching the news this morning and one of the featured stories is about knife crime. One more young man of 19 has been stabbed to death in London recently. The family have organised a protest march to demand action from politicians. The brother of the latest victim is interviewed in the studio. Now I've no doubt whatsoever that this family have suffered a grievous loss, yet there was something artificial about that interview. It's hard to put your finger on it. The modern media are very slick - this particular channel has won an award for news reporting - but the answers the brother gave was somehow a little too obvious.
     
    Naturally he called for harsher sentencing. Thats an instinctive feeling from those who have lost loved ones so I do understand and sympathise. Thing is, the young man claims that these harsher sentences will make knife-wielders think twice, that it would provide a deterrent to such behaviour if thugs realise they will be punished for using knifes in this way.
     
    He's wrong. They won't. The deterrent only works if the thug thinks about the consequences of his actions. Thugs are not known for thinking, and young men commit these stabbings in the heat of the moment or because they believe they won't get caught regardless of the potential punishment. Realising that their peers are armed they seek protection. Since the 'herd' is helpless against a sharp blade they begin to carry knives too. Therefore the real definition of superiority amongst them becomes the willingness to use them instead of just threatening to. Knife culture is the bare bones of a 'warrior' culture in our midst and is therefore based on personal bravado. These people seek self-respect, a sense of self-worth, from the carrying of weapons and the willingness to use them. Further, they want the dread and fear that most people naturally feel if confronted. Young men are naturally competitive. It's part of our animal behviour in that young males jostle for dominance, to settle disputes, for mating rights, all sorts of instinctive reasons. It's the feeling that 'I'm dangerous now everyone respects me' that needs to be addressed. With every generation you need to recreate civilisation. Without that it becomes a primeval jungle in our own back yard.
     
    Inevitably film and tv will carry some blame with copy-cat behaviour cited as a cause for the killings. That isn't quite correct. Young people adopt the manners and actions of the screen in the absence of real examples. Without a firm constructive social background young men will turn to their own instincts and make connections from their own primal instincts to the portrayal of heroic violence that would otherwise merely entertain.
     
    So what solution is there? There needs to be a path for these young men to find self-worth in a more positive way, to work off their competitive instincts without resorting to uncontrolled violence. We also need to convince these young men that carrying knives is not a symbol of manhood. Street credibility needs to be exchanged for social responsibility. I wonder if the protest march is going to aim for that, or is it a veiled demand for revenge? A desire for justice? The government have already stated that action on knife-crime will be taken. Which path will they take? Is there a real desire by our politicans to solve these issues or will they adopt a short-term initiative to survive the bad press? The labour government came to power announcing they were going to tackle the root issues of crime. Ok, here's your chance.
     
    Embarrasement of the Week
    Our new border control agency has been set up to prevent illegal immigration and has issued dire warnings to employers that hiring such people will incur heavy penalties. Suprise, suprise, the border agency have discovered that they employed an ilegal immigrant as a cleaner. Whoops. Flog yourselves gentlemen. Nice and hard. No slacking at the back.
  5. caldrail

    What Will Be...

    By caldrail,

    I've written in the past of my doubts concerning astrology. Sure, there is something comforting about these hints of the fate awaiting us around the corner, it's just that those people writing the hints are peddling security blankets. Funny thing is though, and most likely by sheer coincidence, there are times when a commercial prediction comes spookily close to events in your life. Take yesterdays local newspaper for instance. Apparently the planet Venus is returning to my star sign about now and bringing with it the chance of romantic interest (Sounds familiar... Where have I heard that before?).
     
    Of course I chuckled when I read it as I usually do. I was pleased the prediction also mentioned that I should beware the forthcoming interest may prove to be a little more temporary than I would like. Having perused the job vacancies and advertisements, I promptly threw the paper to one side and forgot the whole thing.
     
    Walking through town on what was a dreary drizzly day in rainy old Swindon, the throngs of people in the street thinned out and there ahead of me was an attractive leggy blonde standing under an umbrella with a whole pile of pamphlets in her hand. There's no fool like an old fool. Always tempted by a pretty smile, I allowed myself to be sucked into her sales pitch for the snack bar across the street. One of those great things about meeting people is that sometimes you connect with them. It's an odd feeling. A complete stranger, yet you feel at ease and comfortable in their presence. Then you realise there's what seems to be a genuine warmth to this communication beyond the desire to profit from baguettes.
     
    We chatted for a short while. She was pleasurable company, and actually quite pretty. All the while she carried on passing pamphlets to passers-by. I wasn't irritated by that - she was being paid to sell - yet a part of me realised that however well we got along, her eyes would ultimately look elsewhere. It seems my temporary affair had run it's course.
     
    If Venus wants to ensare me in the throes of passion and emotional fulfillment, she'll have to do better than that. It seems for once the astrologer was right. How about that?
     
    Excuses of the Week
    Perhaps it was just as well she didn't see this morning. There's a side street that has a sharp left hand turn downhill, and right where the pavement follows the slope I slipped. Woah!... Balance... Nope. Over I went. On the plus side, I have excuses....
     
    1 - I wasn't looking where I was going.
    2 - My trainers are worn and now have smooth undersides.
    3 - The pavement was wet and greasy
    4 - I was just practising to be an idiot.
     
  6. caldrail

    What Would You Do?

    By caldrail,

    What would you do with a lottery win? With several million pounds in your wallet? I've heard this question asked time and time again. Many people actually tell me they want to be generous and give everyone they like a huge wad of the winnings. Perhaps, but I'm a little too cynical to believe I'm that likeable.
     
    Anyhow, Young L, the museums resident football player, was discussing that very question today with the backroom crew. His preferred course of action is to buy a Bowler Wildcat (for those unacquainted with Top Gear, the Bowler Wildcat is a high performance dirt racer). His little eyes glazed over at the thought of it. Bless. I guffawed and told he'll sell it a week afterward.
     
    "No no no" he insisted, "it'll outperform a porsche turbo. A hundred and sixty five miles an hour top speed, way cool, gotta have one!"
     
    Which is all very true, but where can you actually drive at a hundred and sixty miles an hour these days? Out-accelerating porsche turbo's at the lights isn't going to impress the police either.
     
    "Yeah, but you just leave them behind" He dribbled with adolescent glee.
     
    He's probably right, but unfortunately the police are somewhat more organised than that, communicate with each other by radio, and if all else fails knock on your front door the following day. Young L began to realise the idiocy of his chosen fantasy vehicle. I further crushed his ambition by pointing out it wasn't a practical road vehicle anyway.
     
    Of course when I was younger I had similar tendencies, mostly involving ferrari's, but then I didn't listen to anyone. As for young L, I do hope he doesn't win the lottery. I can't bear the thought of all the other museum staff driving around in Bowler Wildcats.
     
    Window Shopping
    I wonder how many times you've ever passed a shop window and seen something unusual? That happened the other day. In the shop front of a shopping centre premises was a full set of Roman legionary armour, tunic, and shield, tastefully displayed on a tailors dummy more accustomed to razor sharp suits in the latest styles.. Wow. You don't see that every day.
     
    Would I buy it? Well, I'll be honest, there's a part of me that would, just for a wheeze. Thankfully on this occaision commonsense prevailed and I carried on about my business. However, just in case you thought I was going to be completely sensible, the local pawnbrokers shop was further down the road. Usually I don't spare it a second glance, but that electric blue guitar caught my eye. Fatal.
     
    No, you can't afford it, Caldrail. Cheap price or not, it's an expensive luxury and you can't afford it. Or maybe I can? maybe there's some way of digging enough cash out of my wallet to let that guitar become my property... Some day, it will be mine... Oh yes...
     
    Five minutes later I harassed the staff to let me inspect the instrument. Looks okay to me. Here. Here you go. Here's my life savings.
     
    "Ooooh" Said the lady behind the desk in suprise as she placed the guitar on the counter, "This is a heavy one!"
     
    Stop talking and do more selling please. Finally our financial transaction was done. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and asked if she had a paper bag I could put it in. And it wasn't even April Fools Day! I had to stop her fruitless search behind the counter. Bless. As it happens it turns out to be something of a bargain. Good condition, full bodied tone, plays well, and mine for a third of the recommended retail price.
     
    I have become a musical bigamist. Sell this little beauty the week afterward? Oh no.... No no no... Hmmmmm....
  7. caldrail

    Whats In A Name?

    By caldrail,

    What is it about Christmas? All of a sudden the town center is full of people ambling about clogging up the pavement. Millions of them. They're everywhere. Where do these people come from? Is there a warehouse somewhere that stores them until the festive season? Are our motorways clogged every year by mass distribution of shoppers?
     
    Someone in town called out to me. I couldn't see who it was given the swarms of shoppers sweeping majestically across the road. She used my real name which is something increasingly rare these days. Omitting the usual taunts and insults, I've been called Gary, Paul, and Alan. UT of course has called me Alfie. At my previous job, there was a jovial woman of afro-carribean origin we shall know as Miss J, who for some unknown reason decided my name was Alfred, a name which stuck and became my nickname there. I asked Miss J why she called me that. She said - "You look like an Alfred". Ask a stupid question.
     
    So as usual, I enter the office to collect paperwork for the days stock check. "Sooooo.... Alfred..." She would say as soon as she spotted me, and then she would ask personal questions right in front of the assembled staff going about their business. Did I detect some interest here? I did indeed, and for the period of my stay there my boss, DS, considered me betrothed. Don't get me wrong, Miss J is a friendly sort, but you know how something raises hairs on the back of your neck? Ok, I've no reason to believe she's a cannibal, nor is she an axe-murderess, nor does she keep giant mutant spiders as pets. So why did DS smile mischievously whenever Miss J wiggled at me?
     
    Strange Goings On In Rushey Platt
    Up until now I always doubted Santa existed. Not any more. Today I spotted one of his minions, a green clad elf in a blue van, driving through Rushey Platt. I gave him a salute, and he returned a big smiley grin. Now I know. The North Pole is a clever ruse to put investigators off the scent. The real location of Santa's HQ is Rushey Platt. Ideally placed in central southern England with easy access to the motorway. I have a horrible feeling I once worked in his grotto without realising. It would explain a few things...
     
    STOP PRESS!!
    Santa has been spotted! Yes, its true, he was seen just now obtaining money from a hole in the wall machine. I knew I was right. That means he must have parked the sleigh somewhere near here.... But not at the car dealer with a Ferrari 360 in the rough part of town. Apparently I can come back when I've got
  8. caldrail
    Last night I popped across the road to the kebab shop for a burger. I don't do this frequently, though I have to say I'm not particularly worried about horror stories of whats in it. Now I doubt their burgers are actually wholesome. My mother once gave me some she'd ordered along with other produce from Scotland and I have to say those were in a different league altogether. But I fancied some minced moggie, ash, and other undesirable stuff and they say a little of what you fancy does you good.
     
    "Hi Boss" said the old guy behind the counter. These turks call everyone Boss. "Yes?"
     
    I'll have... a cheesburger and chips please.
     
    "Ok Boss. You wanna sauce with that?"
     
    Chilli please.
     
    "You wanna salad?"
     
    Oh just onions.
     
    "You wanna cheese with your burger?"
     
    Don't your cheeseburgers normally come with cheese?
     
    "Yes. But do you wanna cheese?"
     
    Yes. Yes I do . Please put cheese on my cheeseburger. I would like mature cheddar freshly sliced straight from a refrigator.
     
    "Yes Boss. This cheese ok?".
     
    Is that mature cheddar frreshly sliced from a refrigerator? The young man with cross-eyes yells something turkish to the old man.
     
    "Yes Boss. Sliced cheese. Cheese ok?.. Huh?"
     
    Oh go on then.
    'Bill Oddie' Moment of the Week
    Those who don't know who Bill Oddie is, he's a tv presenter (once a comedian) who does a lot of nature programs, enthusing about small furry mammals and casting scorn on Swindon. Well, Mr Oddie, here's something you might appreciate.
     
    My parents maintain resteraunt and hotel facilities for local wildlife, and to be fair, they do get a wide variety of birds dropping in (and sometimes dropping on us). A sparrowhawk was there, patiently waiting on the fence for the blue tits in the nesting box to come out to play. The blue tits of course were more sensible. There was that blackbird that likes to wet its feathers in the faux watercourse feature on the back wall. Then, with spectacular powers of intellect, a big fat pidgeon decided that was a cool idea and copied the blackbird, choosing instead a plastic seedbox full of rainwater. He dipped head, shook his wings. You could see him thinking 'Hey, this isn't bad', and he got more enthusiastic. Then he slipped and fell in.
     
    The soggy pidgeon flapped and fumbled its way out of the water, flopping onto the paving stones whilst family and I burst into hysterics. It sat there looking thoroughly embarrased.
     
    I guess you had to be there.
  9. caldrail

    When I Was Young

    By caldrail,

    Back when I was very young, I remember a particularly vivid dream. I was wandering along a beach, in bright sunshine. My companion was a girl though I don't know what the relationship was supposed to be. Anyway, there was a rushing noise and the sea went out, like a low tide but much more dramatic and far reaching. It seemed as if the sea had vanished in the blink of an eye.
     
    My companion, entranced and excited by this amazing sight, ran here and there, jumping in puddles of seawater among the stranded fish and piles of seawater. I was more circumspect. This was wrong. Very wrong. I didn't understand why but I knew no good would come of it. Although I made an attempt to pull my companion away from this apparent threat, she was too bound up by it.
     
    Then I saw the horizon lift up. The sea was coming back. I vaguely have a memory of clutching my ears at a sudden noise of terrific volume, but I'm not sure if that recollection was originally part of the dream. A great wave was approaching.
     
    That dream has stuck in my mind ever since. Some years ago, I dreamt the final part. Where the wave reaches us. It was simply stunning. A wall of seawater that towered over me. All I could do was stand there slack-jawed at the terrible sight of it. Then the foam at the base of the wave hit me like a brick and remember nothing more.
     
    What on earth was I seeing? A past life experience, a prophecy, clairvoyance, or simply no more than a figment of my imagination, no more than a dream like any other? I shall never know. What I do recall is the terrifying majesty of a massive tsunami.
     
    With the recent disaster that wreaked havoc in Japan, how could I write an entry about anything else? Like everyone else I saw the images of an unstoppable wall of water crashing into the shore and pushing inland, sweeping everything before it? The video footage is in a way surreal. I can sit at home, safe and sound, and realise how terrible it was. What I can't imagine is what the sensations of standing in the way of a real tsunami must be like. Or in a strange way, maybe I can, though arguably there's no comparison.
     
    I know I should be expressing regret and sympathy for the suffering of the japanese. Frankly I don't know what to say, other than to repeat the sentiments expressed by everyone else. Without wishing to be too allegorical or politically incorrect, Japan has never really been the safest place in the world to live. Occaisionally nature reminds us who's in charge.
     
    Too Young To Understand
    As part of the Science and Technology Week the museum has hosted some activities for kids, namely communication. We had morse code tappers, semaphore flags, teletypes, yoghurt pot telephones, all ready to give the children a fun hands-on experience, and of course to learn something at the same time.
     
    Maybe I was being naive. What we got was a chimps tea party. The kids seemed completely unable to retain any interest for more than ten seconds, always getting impatient and fed up if something wasn't perfect or worked instantly, and lacking in any sort of discipline whatsoever. This afternoon I am a broken man. Physically and emotionally.
     
    What is it with kids these days? I was shocked by how difficult it was to engage their atention. When I was a kid, you sat up straight and paid attention, or you risked well aimed chalk missiles, loud public humiliations, or in the worst cases, a lonely trip to the headmasters office for a more painful lesson on how to behave. Certainly not like the good old days anymore. No wonder modern kids wander off and paint random heiroglyphs on the nearest available wall.
  10. caldrail
    I wonder what qualifications are required to become a bus driver? Not that I'm especially interested myself, it's just that I witnessed two drivers changing shift discussing Schrodinger's Cat, a piece of scientific philosophy used to illustrate quantum uncertainty. Good grief. What next? A law demanding drivers must have a Master's Degree in Quantum Mechanics just to drive a new-fangled electric vehicle? One wonders how the future government of Britain is going to make that happen. Half the kids I witness in my area learn to read and write Grafftti rather than English.
     I speak with some experience on this. There's a bunch of young lads utterly and wrongly convinced I'm gay. That's bad enough, but they insist on letting me know they think so. Worse still, a hard core of them are hell bent on coercing me into admitting it. The other night, on my way home through a side street in the early hours of the morning, the driver of a car wound his window down and asked "Queer yet?".
     Well, these attempts at bullying have been going on for some time. A few have already fallen foul of anti-social legislation courtesy of the Police. One wonders what life is like at school these days. Bullying went on in my day, just like it always does, but this intense psychological intimidation is well beyond anything I experienced as a child and points clearly to a complete failure of modern education practice as much as what passes as parental upbringing these days.
     At the bus station, I waited for passengers to disembark as usual. A toddler, no more than four years old, came off the bus commenting on a small item with an habitual expletive which was shocking to hear from someone so young. I looked at his mother who gave a resigned expression. Well, there's a young man destined for a loud but undistinguished future. Rather like a bunch of lads believing their opinions matter. Will they ever learn?
     
    And Now For Something Completely Different
    There's been a change of strategy from these lads lately. Having failed to convert me to the condemning world of homosexuality, they now want to portray me as a shoplifter. They even claim they've seen me in the act. "You just wait" I hear. "You'll be sorry" from others. Well, I do have to point out that coercion, abuse, and false accusation could land you with a hefty punishment in court, and as far as I can see, all you're going to do is prove my innocence. Please carry on.
     
    Bird Of The Week
    Lately I've heard the sound of an owl from the countryside around my place of work as I leave at the end of a night shift. It's rare to hear one, never mind see one. But the other night I saw it, startled by the approach of a car and flying ahead of the equally startled driver. What a size! I didn't know owls got that big in Britain! Be afraid, mice. Be very afraid.
     
    Brexit Footnote
    October 31st has come and gone and still Parliament has obstructed the determined efforts of the government to realise the decision made in a referendum more than three years ago. I'm saddened that so many now blame our bus loving Prime Minister for failing to reach the conclusion, but isn't that a little dishonest? I mean, the reason he failed is parliamentary subterfuge. Politics some might call it, but I wonder how many people listening to accusations of our Prime Minister's supposed dishonesty are aware of how much dishonesty is being blatantly pushed in front of the public by his opposition leaders?
    Parliament claims to speak for democracy. No it doesn't. Parliament be damned.
  11. caldrail

    When Will We Be Famous?

    By caldrail,

    It's no good. After several evenings of cheap ready meals and the leftovers of my fridge, I felt there was no choice but to succumb to temptation. So I took the oportunity to blow some of my savings on a takeaway meal to stave off dietary diseases and boredom. At the local fired chicken store, one I frequent now and then when I have money to spend, I selected my favourite peri-peri meal. It'll blow my head off but for the english, this culinary torture is a masochistic pleasure, and for me, a welome relief.
     
    As a patient and indullgent father proceeded to order the deaths of several more hapless chickens, his daughter and a friend were turning the fast food establishment into an impromptu dance floor. I wonder if they're students at the performing arts school up the road? Not quite the colleges we get in England for that purpose (there's one in Swindon too), and far away from the psuedo-professional arts education parents throw thousands of dollars at every year to try and get their kids into a child-actor role in their summer break, but the result is the same.
     
    These two kids clearly believed utterly they were going places. "When we're famous..." One started, listing her favourite and desirable lifestyle accesories to achieve before her career implodes in a haze of drugs and divorces, the other simply giggling at the prospect.
     
    At this point I have to be honest. I have after all some experience of the performing arts, even professionally for a few years, and at a glance I noticed something. Despite these two girls confidence, their movements were less than elegant, their voices unpleasant to listen to at giggling volume, and whilst I'm sure their fathers think the world of their little angels, they aren't going to grow up to be lookers. It's a tough world. Especially when you want to be famous.
     
    Was I like that at their age? Dreaming of fame and fortune? Yep. I was. The difference is that I had parents who refused point blank to tolerate my adventures in music and so I did them anyway, pushing at the inertia of world ignorance with every ounce of my feeble efforts. These two young ladies are going to learn sooner or later that fame costs. And this is where you start... Well, you know what I mean.... I shook my head at the foolish ambition before me then hurriedly explained to the fast food assistant that I did want my meal with fries.
     
    Lacking Balance
    The sun has come out this morning. That's pretty much the good news today as I wade through the formalities of keeping the authorities notified of changes in my circumstances and benefits claims.
     
    My first gripe is my sense of balance. I'm reaching the age when falling over is no longer funny, and tends to get a bit painful. Caught in one of those 'banana skin' moments with wet leaves this morning... Woah!.. No, I've recovered, no I haven't... Uo-oh, this is embrarrasing....AAARGH! Thud. Ouch... I discover I've thumped my hand on the ground leaving very uncomfortable bruises and skin abrasions.What is happening to my life?
     
    Forty Things To Do
    Last week I saw one of those news items on my email service, the sort where someone lists all the things you should before you're forty. Most of them are faintly ridiculous, impossible, or self contradictory, written by some moron who thinks that visiting Paris is romantic, or jumping from an aeroplane an achievement, or that eating at a michelin rated resteraunt says something about you. One of the things to do was having children , which the commentator corectly pointed made the others more or less unachievable.
     
    But there's something more important here. It's the idea that we can claim a measure of esteem from our peers if we conform to their ideas of achievement. It's nothing more than keeping up with the Joneses. Do you really want to measure your life to a list of social requirements made by someone else? Or would you prefer to strive for something you decide is worthwhile?
     
    I suppose you could argue that wanting to be a rock star as I did in my younger days was nothing more than attempting to conform to some ideal. Perhaps. It didn't feel that way for me - that was far more of a personal struggle to free myself of family restraint and become my own man, forge my own future, and not have the fixed plan laid out before me that my mother and father clearly were striving to foist upon my shoulders. My mother always manipulating me, my father always making arrangements behind my back. I was so angry in those days - no wonder I became a rock drummer. Die, audience. Feel the power of my percussive wrath.
     
    Well I had my few moments of fame. Not so fortunate, as it turned out, but life throws those banana skins at us.
     
    Performer of the Week
    I came home a couple of days ago and ionce I'd thrown off footwear, jackets, shopping, and had the chance to sit and catch some breath, there was some weird music coming from somewhere. Sort of like Gary Numan's Tubeway Army when they're feeling sad and lonely. It was my downstairs neighbour, whose attempts to be deep and meaningful in the medium of song was seriously mournful. I turned the television on, raised the volume, but she didn't get the hint, the music was still audible. So there was nothing for it but to raise my morale and lift the mood with a blast of death metal. Ahhhh....... So peaceful.....
  12. 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.
  13. caldrail

    While We're Waiting

    By caldrail,

    A few nights ago I took a moment to take in the view overlooking the valley below my home. In Roman times it was verdant countryside with a farmyard at the bottom of the hill. Even in victorian times it was a green belt between the old market town on the hill and the new industrial village built for Brunel's new railway. Now it's urban sprawl, with an abandoned college building dominating the view.
     
    I'm used to seeing movement in the back yard and the alleys leading from it. People use the area as a shortcut to and fro their favourite drinking holes. They sometimes park cars there in the evening in the search for a cheap place to hopefully leave their vehicle undisturbed. Revellers occaisionally wander back and forth along the street nearby. At this hour however, it's the quiet after the socialising is done and before the local burglars come out to play.
     
    It seems the local wildlife sense that too. I guess they become accustomed to our movements and know full well that the wee small hours are the safest bet for an undisturbed scrounge in the rubbish we leave behind. Urban foxes have made a name for themselves doing exactly that, though as I predicted, the piercing screech they make has been absent for a while now. But I wasn't dissappointed. As I watched, a solitary badger trotted down the lane, crossed the road, and headed for his favourite scrounging ground. Unlike the foxes the badger remains silent, preferring not to draw attention to itself, and moves quickly in case someone does spot it.
     
    Somewhere nearby the badger will find discarded chips, kebabs, or any other takeaway that a drunken customer couldn't keep hold of. Nature doesn't miss a trick, does it?
     
    Wetness Expected
    The morning is cloudy and although it isn't actually damp, you can sense the rain waiting to unleash wetness upon unsuspecting Swindon residents. it is of course the remnant of Hurricane Irene that's heading across the country, now downgraded to a band of rainclouds. As I headed for the library this morning I could feel the rain in the air, that sort of prickly sensation on the face that precedes something a good deal wetter.
     
    People don't seem to be aware of the forecast rain. Despite the drab greyness, most of those I see outside on the street are still dressed in summer clothes, though oddly scarves seem to a fashionable addition. Their faith in scarves is probably not going to help them this afternoon, but then, I've been caught in one too many downpours to believe that staying dry is all that easy in Britain. How fortunate then that really strong cyclonic winds are so rare in our otherwise dampened contry.
     
    No Longer Flat
    So concerned are the Netherlands that the approach of Irene will cause flooding that they're investing millions of euro's to build an artificial mountain, Holland's first ever At last the dutch will be able to enter an olympic skiing team, though infairness, their athletes had better hurry because London 2012 is but months away. I know. I've seen the constant reminders on television.
     
    It does occur to me that all of a sudden there's a danger to aviation in the area. Pilots do have a slight tendency to make controlled flight into terrain now and then, so anyone hoping to fly in Holland beware. There's a new mountain to avoid very shortly. Imagine if the nazi's had thought of that one. None of the Dambusters would have made it to the Rhine.
     
    Having A Say
    "Have you got any ideas?" The boos at the museum asked me, looking for inspirtation to extend the social activities that keep customers arriving through our doors. Why? Why does he think we're struggling? My last 'graveyard' shift was the busiest ever, with zombies arriving to pay the entrance fee at a regular pace. Some of them even bought books from the museum shop too.
     
    I thought for a moment, considering the possibilities and the sort of people we encourage to visit, and just as I was about to speak....
     
    Whirrrrrrrr
     
    Evil robot, perched on the side of the front desk, made an electronic groan. Shut up.
  14. caldrail

    Whining Noises

    By caldrail,

    Recently I drew attention to a school in southeast England that has been criticised for sending a sheep to market as part of childrens education. Whilst it may seem cruel at first sight, those kids are learning where food actually comes from and learning that emotional attachment comes at a price.
     
    Here's the problem though. The human race is multiplying at an increasing rate. David Attenborough tells us that in the last fifty years, the human population of the world has tripled. Vastly improved health care and the containment of large scale warfare have of course contributed. There is however a more basic reason. Remember all those rabbit and fox graphs you used to get in biology class at school? With food readily productive and available in the modern world there are no shortages to limit human expansion.
     
    Of course there are areas suffering famine or obstructions in the food supply. The point though is that if people aren't starving to death they're reproducing. Sex isn't entirely onerous, is it? So like the foxes, when times are good we increase in numbers. The sad truth is that good times cannot last forever. Climatic change, natural disasters, or perhaps even a significant meteorite strike might tip the balance, and human beings will starve in huge numbers. It's almost inevitable.
     
    So as people multiply food production must keep pace to feed the happy majority. This is why our food supply has become so mechanistic in the modern age, and with it, a somewhat crueller detachment than hunting in the wild. As far as I'm concerned, hunting, skinning, and butchering are extensions of the natural world. There does come a point when this realism crosses a border into a much deeper cruelty, and I'd like to thank Roger Moore for doing more than raising his eyebrows dramatically. The former 'James Bond' star has pointed at the production of foie gras which to my horror is done by force feeding geese with corn mash via a metal pipe stuffed down their throat, purely to cause a swelling of the liver from which the delicacy is made.
     
    There's an honesty about fresh meat on your plate (even if the reality isn't always what we'd like to see) but to cause an animal harm and distress purely for the pleasure of the wealthy isn't something I can agree with. Can you?
     
    Restoration of the Week
    I was woken this morning by the whining sound of power tools. It wasn't coming from the garage across the yard, which has been quieter this year than previously, nor was it coming from next door, which is being renovated after it's last tenants left. It was the alleyway beside the terrace, whose bushes have reduced the car park access to single file pedestrian only, and no shortage of discarded waste such as cardboard boxes and broken furniture. I doubt however that the council will upgrade the surface. Every so often they fill in the potholes with gravel which promptly vanishes after the first heavy rain. The alleyway is now three inches below the asphalt car park and eroding nicely. In another year, trimming the hedge will be pointless because you'll not be able to get a car onto the car park without damaging it.
     
  15. caldrail

    Who Dunnit?

    By caldrail,

    Mr Palmer, the leader of East Lindsey District Council, is unhappy. Strange lights have been seen in the Midlands sky for a while now, and now a turbine blade from a wind generator tower has been ripped off near his turkey farm. He wants the authorities to look into the recent UFO activity and in particular the damage they caused to one of our turbines.
     
    The Ministry of Defence however has shown absolutely no interest in the goings-on, telling us that they won't investigate unless they perceive a threat to our nation. You can see the logic - the turbine isn't dangerous to anyone any more. Now you can speculate about space aliens deciding to experiment on the wind generators in order to discover their breeding habits. I wish they'd tell us, because these things just keep on appearing overnight. Or perhaps they are telling us? Maybe they've realised that all those corn circles haven't got the message across, and are now resorting to direct action to save the Earth from destroying itself with renewable energy?
     
    Hmmm... Lets see.... No, I don't think it's down to alien activity. I hardly think enlightened alien creatures are going to travel hundreds of light years just to visit the Midlands. So what caused the damage? Well, experts have suggested the blade spontaneously disconnected - insurers claim it happens five or six times a year - so you'd think someone would fix it properly. But the dodgy repair work still doesn't explain the initial damage. I think I have the answer. Mr Palmer need look no further than his very own turkey coup. I suggest to him that his turkeys are escaping on a regular basis, and that one wasn't very good at flying. There. Problem solved. Except... Who taught the turkeys to fly? (Cue theme tune from X-Files)
     
    Justice of the Week
    The kidnappers of that oil supertanker hijacked off the Kenyan coast demanded a colossal ransom for it. Eventually, they were whittled down to
  16. caldrail

    Who Knows Better?

    By caldrail,

    You're the worst kind of propagandist who thinks he knows better than everyone else
    Guest private messge (some-1-better-than-u)
     
    Wow! Praise indeed. But Im not entirely sure what I'm propagandising.
     
    However, lets for the moment ask a serious question - Do I think I know better than everyone else? Of course I do - just like everyone else does, including my crtitic quoted above - it's a fundamental part of human self worth to believe your opinion is as good as anyone elses. Even when it isn't.
     
    As it happens I do know who some-1-better-than-u is - he made the mistake of calling me the same thing once before on a forum thread. However, despite his blatant immaturity, I remain calm, cool, and unconcerned that he stuck his virtual finger in my digital face. Mate, seriously, I was in the music business for twelve years, I know what criticisn feels like.
     
    But thanks for the compliment anyhow.
     
    More Facts And Figures For Non-Propagandists
    I also know other stuff too. My head is buzzing full of all sorts of stuff. Now before anyone thinks I'm on strange medication or suspicious substances, I can't help all those E numbers they put into food.
     
    So, did you know that my co-habitee at home is a rat called "You little monster"? You see, if you read my blog you'd know these things.
     
    Did you know how long rats live for? Three to five years in the wild, or until poisoned or caught by the human cohabitee who's getting a mite fed up of little puddles of piss on the kitchen floor.
     
    Did you know rats are intelligent creatures? Clearly in this battle of wills I'm outclassed by a small furry mammal, who so far has managed to elude every trap and stratagem I've concocted. Now unless this rat is Julius Caesar reincarnated (like most people are), it represents absolute and demonstratable proof that I don't know how to catch rats.
     
    No Hot Debate
    I had to laugh. There's some idiot on the internet news headlines who's declared that he's going to try and do without domestic utilities for a year to see if it's possible to live cheaply without them. Clearly he hasn't read my blog. It's already tried and tested mate. It's called unemployment.
     
    Propaganda Message Of The Week
    I know better than you. I know this because I have been told so. Now you know too. Knowledge is power! Send
  17. caldrail

    Who?

    By caldrail,

    In a blaze of media exposure - and no shortage of publicity by BBC News - we finally know who is to be David Tennants replacement as Dr Who. For those who don't know its... ah.... Who?
     
    They chose an actor who despite having leading roles in the past is pretty well unknown. A non-entity? Well, personally, I'm hugely miffed the BBC didn't demand and beg me to play the role. I am after all fully qualified. I turn up, I pull rabbits out of hats, then fade into nonethingness as someone else gets promoted instead. I am the Dr Who of Warehousing.
     
    So where's my buxom assistant then? I'm waiting.....
     
    Cavalry Bugle of the Week
    Our much-despised prime minister, Gordon Brown, has announced he's going to create 100,000 new jobs. Brilliant. Except who's going to pay the wages? The economy is on the brink of collapse, people haven't got the money to buy anything, and he's going to wave a magic wand when he plans to increase taxes even further and foist an expensive olympics upon us. It's lunacy. The only way to support these jobs is more taxes. Boy does he love spending other peoples money. If we had any.
  18. caldrail
    What you're looking at it something of a survivor of the Great Computer Crash of 2009. Okay, I like trains. Even Top Gear presenters play with trains. What well balanced male of the species doesn't? Football fans I imagine, but then they get so wrapped up in their tiny little worlds too, don't they? But I digress. Pahusett Valley is one of my virtual routes I put together on a comouter. Certainly it lacks the tactile sensations and satisfaction of creating a model with your bare hands, but then if you haven't got the physical space or finance to indulge your instincts, what else can you do? At least my own little world is realised without the constraints of the real one. This railroad is the way it is because I made that way. And since the editor is such a pig of a program to use, I still derive some pleasure from acheiving the end result. But hey... Judge for yourself.
     
    All Change At The Top
    Well that's it then. The man I once dismissed as a lightweight has made to Prime Minister. I stand corrected. Well done that man. Now let's see if he can earn his pay. Well, you can't accept a job of that importance and not feel the pressure. I should know. Being part of David Camerons disfuntional Britain I've seen how rewarding effort can be.
     
    Is This A Con?
    A little while back I wrote about this aged Indian who claimed he hadn't eaten or drank for seventy years. He's been under medical examination for two weeks and guess what? Apparently he does go without food and drink. So now the military are interested to see whether their soldiers can derive energy from sunlight. Somehow I doubt it's going to make special forces night raids any easier.
     
    I can't decide whether some stunt has pulled here or not. Is this some fantasy cooked up by a clever ruse? Is it a complete fantasy? Or perhaps this yogi has managed to access a latent biological adaption? It just goes to show if you concentrate hard enough you can succeed. Then again, this Indian has clearly not dealt with the british Department of Work and Pensions.
     
    Oh Yeah... My Job Search
    At my last claims interview I was given three vacancies to apply for. For the first time in two years I just cannot find the motivation to bother. It isn't laziness - I've already proven beyond shadow of a doubt that I'm willing to enter the workplace and do a days work - but unfortunately once a claims advisor believes you're being dishonest you might as well slit your wrists. It wouldn't be the first time a dole seeker in Swindon has committed suicide and I'm beginning to understand why it happens. I know this all sounds a little negative . Sadly that's exactly what the situation is. It's all very well moaning about dole cheats and how something must be done to get professional claimants back in the workplace, but some uis were actually trying.
     
    Get A Life, Caldrail
    I know. It's all sounding a bit bleak isn't it? Today, I'll have a wander around and try to find something odd, amusing, or simply newsworthy in the world outside my virtual railroading. See ya when I get back.
  19. caldrail

    Whoops!

    By caldrail,

    Industrial accidents happen. There's no denying that. I know of a guy who drove his forklift off the bay because he hadn't noticed the lorry had gone. There was a forklifter at one place I used to work who regularly smashed holes in the breezeblock wall because he reversed out without looking. There was another who broke off the sprinkler head and flooded the warehouse with brown sludgy water.
     
    There's a chap who works in our warehouse who thankfully doesn't work for us. He fell out of the back of a container not too long ago and is currently suing his employer for accident compensation. Now he's gone further by driving his forklift forward with the view obscured by a tall load. He ripped out one upright in the racks and can thank his luck there wasn't any heavy pallets in the racking above him. Accidents of course don't happen in this warehouse - thats the official line from our hosts - and as yet we don't have any word from them regarding this accident.
     
    It is worrying because the car manufacturer we share the new shed with have appropriated some floorspace for themselves, stacking stillages right next to where we relabel goods for transport. It doesn't make you feel safe and secure at all....
     
    Car Sale of the Week
    AD has decided to part with his little hatchback and phoned the trade paper when he got home from work. He was getting replies within half and hour, proof that selling your car via the internet can work. Between you and me though, I reckon it was the advert he had me design and print off that did it. The reason I know this to be the case is that AD never gives anyone else credit for anything...
     
    Community Initiative of the Week
    Free gigs? Outside the department store under that false plastic circus tent thing? Times have changed. Getting the local council to agree an open air performance in such a place back when I was a struggling local musician would have been another titanic struggle with officialdom. Actually, I think its a good move, an excellent way for young bands to showcase themselves to a wider audience. Now all the local council have to do is find bands who can actually play...
  20. caldrail
    Has anyone been watching the Tour De France bicycle race this year? No, me neither, but I did catch that extraordinary accident on the news later that evening. A camera car swerves and takes out two or three competitors before driving off. You can sort of tell it's France because in Britain there'd be four police cars boxing the escaping driver in and cops hauling the driver onto the tarmac before cuffing him to exciting music and a witty comment on the voiceover. No really, I've seen it on Police Interceptors.
     
    The most amazing thing is that the race organisers handed out tee shirts to those brave competitors that survived such assaults upon their person. Medals? Not in France. Real heroes wear tee-shirts. I get the impression that the Tour De France is a tough race. How would I know? I stopped riding a bike when my National Cycling Proficiency Certificate became uncool, but then, in those days we didn't have body hugging lycra swimsuits in bright colours complete with snazzy plastic helmets. Not that I'm suggesting anything you understand.
     
    Me And My Lycra
    Denied the joys of cycling in body hugging lycra? Fear not, for I was not deprived of the experience of stupid clothing. Back in the eighties of course no musician went on stage without looking likea ballet dancer so naturally I had to do that as well. I dumped the black and white clown trousers I considered adequate stage wear and progressed to hardcore silver and black zebra striped lycras. And I thought we kept getting banned for being too loud.
     
    I came off stage at Swindon's Link Centre one time playing for Red Jasper. Gigs in Swindon were rarely a success for us but this one had gone down okay, helped largely by our enthusiastic crowd of roadies among the audience. By the time I'd disentangled myself from the drumkit the rest of the band were in the changing room getting interviewed by a young lady from the local newspaper.
     
    Hi Babe. Let me tell you everything you need to know about Red Jasper. Miss JW was a bit suprised that I was chipping into the conversation. Excuse me? I do happen to be in this band you know.
     
    "Oh" She replied in innocence, "I thought you'd been out running or something.". Clearly silver and black zebra striped lycras were not one of my better investments, and proof, if any were needed, that looking like a ballet dancer was not essential for rock super-stardom.
     
    She tried to interview us, she really did. Unfortunately Robin 'the guitar player' corrected something I said and JW, having scribbled tons of notes rendered absolutely useless, screamed in frustration and called me a cow dung depositer. I never could treat her seriously after that. Every time she had occaision to interview me I always made a point of telling her complete rubbish. Poor woman. How she suffered.
     
    I still have those original clown trousers somewhere. However, since they were measured at a 28" waist, my chances of getting into them again are slim even if I'm not. Maybe when I shrink with old age I'll be able to strut my stuff on stage one more time in genuine Caldrail gear. I'm sure they'll find room for a nurse at the side of the stage. I can fit the kit to my zimmer frame. Make sure JW knows who I am this time. She doesn't know me without lycras on.
     
    Tee In The Park
    Maybe I ought to spend more time watching televised festival gigs. These days televised festivals aren't unusual, but there was a time when such things were not considered family viewing in Bitain. The trouble now is most of them are sponsored by radio stations and feature the sort of acts you'd expect on family viewing.
     
    I had to laugh a couple of years ago. Most of the acts performing at the oversize beach party were clearly those who'd never performed on a large stage before. I know this because they all did exactly the same things as each other. Rush to the left... Sing a verse leaning forward... Rush to the right side of the stage... Sing a verse... Return to centre stage and sing a verse... Repeat until crowd are thoroughly warmed.
     
    But last night it was Tee In The Park, a scottish festival with the Foo Fighters headlining. Earlier in the evening I watched a set by Beady Eye, who came across rather like Oasis playing a soup kitchen after losing their contract. I have to be honest, Beady Eye didn't impress me too much. Their set lacked any real fizz. I guess tomato soup for several days running must get you down.
     
    Not to worry. The Foo Fighters were on later. Do I sound like I was expecting something? As it happens they aren't a band I listen to ordinarily, but their set was a darn sight better. Presence, energy, and I have to say, a massed assault of guitars, kilts, and dubious underwear. No clever stuff and definitely no lycras required. Now that's more like it.
  21. caldrail
    Once again the weathermen have triumphed. The storms have crossed the west country overnight and left us with a wet and rainy day. In fact this rain is a bit unseasonal, but at least it wasn't a hurricane.
     
    By chance I was watching CBS news last night. I wouldn't normally bother because for some reason I can't fathom, american news channels are almost unfathomable. Not this time. The arrival of Hurricane Irene was causing worry for everyone living on the east coast and it seems weather of that scale is something that happens only once every 75 years.
     
    It reminded me of one particular in 1987. A friend of mine worked for a logistics company but because he'd gotten off with a lady at one of his drop-off points, he wanted a day off every week to bonk her senseless, so he got me to sub in for him which was fine because the cash in hand was useful to me.
     
    The problem was that no-one realised we were going to get a hurricane. So I set off early one morning to discover that southern england had been turned into a warzone, with trees uprooted everywhere and lorries overturned in droves. I guess the earth might not have moved her that day, but pretty much everything else did.
     
    Pickups Come Of Age
    Awhile back Top Gearproved beyond shadow of a doubt how impossible it was to stop a Toyota Hilux pickup truck from working. It was an imppressive level of toughness, but I sort of wondered at why a vehicle built for such mundane purposes needed the ability to survive armageddon as a selling point.
     
    As I continue to watch events unfolding in Libya, it occurs to me that at last the pickup truck has found its true vocation. I always wondered what people did with that useless space on the back. Now I see the point of it, as trucks drove here and there with 20mm AA quad cannons or missile launcher twinpacks.
     
    I wonder if the Australians wish they'd thought of it as they rebelled against the evil kangaroo regime. A few heavy weapons might have swung it for them. On the other hand, perhaps the autralians had indeed seen the future, as Libya turns ever more toward a real life Mad Max.
     
    Pickups Of The Future
    This morning I noticed that astronomers have discovered a planet apparently made of diamonds. it's four thousand light years away, and orbits a nasty neutron star, so getting your wage slaves there and back with spaceships full of expensive conumer luxuries isn't going to be easy. We defintely need the interstellar equivalent of a pickup truck. Perhaps the original Star Trek was again being a little prophetic because some of those symbols on starfleet sweatshirts look remarkably like Toyota badges.
  22. caldrail

    Why So Popular?

    By caldrail,

    What is going on? Usually I get pretty well ignored by passing motorists, heckled by one or two, but today? All day long I've had people beeping their horns and giving me a cheery wave. Haven't a clue who they are. Haven't a clue why they're waving.
     
    Well if you want my autograph I'm not running after you....
     
    Todays Country Hike
    Not too far, just down the track that runs round the south side of the local golf course. You never see anyone use it, but typically for Britain, it was a mass of wintery puddles and muddy ruts, that dark grey sludge you get from leaf mould. I think I spent as much time on todays hike walking sideways and slipping back as I did going forward. Just in time for....
     
    Dog owner of the Week
    Goes to the woman I met on the Polo Ground, whose dogs seemed to derive great pleasure from charging at me. When I joked about their aggressive play she told me that dogs left to their own devices go wild in twelve hours. What? Who exactly is going to train these dogs to survive in the wild? All their life they've gotten sustenance from small metal tins pulled from a kitchen cupboard and even then they need a human being to open them. Ok, dogs are good scavengers (some even scavenge from the kitchen) but they can only susbsist that way when there's a surplus to be scavenging from, and nature being what it is the local wildlfie will soon cotton on that there's food lying around. Most emancipated canines would starve very quickly I think. But what do you expect from old wives?
     
  23. caldrail
    The other day I strolled into a music store in my home town, thinking of upgrading some recording equipment. It’s been a while since I took music seriously and having been unemployed for the better part of a decade, I could hardly afford to. But, with money in my pocket, time to splash out and get ready to impose my music upon the unsuspecting world. 
    “They don’t make those any more” Said GK, someone who has sold me all sorts of instruments and gizmo’s for the last thirty years. After a short converstation, it was clear that music was not the hobby it had once been. I looked blankly at him for a moment and in that moment of awakening I said “Heck, I’m getting old….”
    GK couldn’t stop laughing. But I’m beginning to realise what a fantastic period of history I lived through as a young man.  The days when you could walk into a computer or music dealership and buy just about anything are gone. The world has changed, and not for the better.
    Changing the Country
    The hullabaloo over Brexit continues with continued calls for a second referendum. Really? Didn’t anyone realise it was going to be difficult? Fact is, we had a vote, we voted to leave, that’s it – it’s going to happen. As much as EU strategy is to have our legs wobble at the sheer scale of our endeavour and ask to come back with our tail between our legs, Britain is made of stronger stuff. Or at least, some of us are, given how much whinging the remainers are making.
    But what do I hear from Jeremy Corbyn, the Labour party leader? Renationalise everything.  His radical new plan to save Britain is more or less to recreate the seventies when left wing politics still had some clout in this country. I well remember the seventies, and it wasn’t a high point in British history. Terrorism, strikes, the Three Day Working Week with the family sat around of an evening by candlelight, rubbish bags piling up on the streets. If there was any solid reason for keeping Corbyn out of power, it’s the 1970’s.
    Change of the Week
    There I was, walking home after a late shift in the wee small hours, when I spotted a fox. No, two foxes. No, three foxes. That’s a little unusual. But what startled me was that one of those foxes actually growled at me. Foxes don’t do that. They just silently retreat or flee. Not this scruffy young fox, as it turned to face me once it through the gates of the local park. Bared teeth is alarming in a dog. But a fox? Disturbing.
  24. caldrail
    Back in the sixties Gene Roddenberry sold an idea to a film studio for a tv series about 'A wagon train to the stars'. It was one of those simple and cheap concepts that studios loved at that time, and they weren't expecting anything more intellectually challenging than Lost In Space. Instead of Bonanza with ray guns, they got spikey ears, emotionless women, and a plot you actually needed to think about. That was quite a shock for the time.
     
    Now of course the original Star Trek is a much loved classic, however excrutiating Captain Kirks love life was or the persistent discovery of american civilisation on every second planet they visited. It still gets shown on tv today. Star Trek Next Generation had a real act to follow, and they all but trumped it. Deep Space Nine was slightly more of a star trek space opera, but by Voyager, things were getting a little tired, with every episode showing Captain Janeway staring in wonder at yet another example of Life as we never thought possible.
     
    Which brings me to an important point. This concept of life everywhere in incredibly diverse and unexpected forms is fiction. There's no reason to believe its possible other than optimism. After all, life on Earth evolved through a series of fortuitous circumstances that appear extremely rare in the universe.We have a stable sun, our planet is orbiting at just the right distance, with a moon that prevents our world becoming tidally locked, with an iron core that provides a protective magnetic field around us, and so forth. A typical class M planet then. There's a lot of those in Star Trek.
     
    Is Star Trek possible? A world government as the core of a federation of alien worlds, harmonious, progressive, advancing. And totally impossible, for no other reason than nature designed mankind to squabble. Sometimes you meet people you just can't get on with. The same unfortunately would be true of alien technological societies, which in Star Trek are all conveniently humanoid and roughly comparable in capability (apart from the Q, but these all powerful tricksters are little more than embodiements - is that the right word? - of mythological concepts, thus showing that our imaginations haven't really changed since the middle ages).
     
    In technological terms we only have a short window to achieve this progress, assuming that there is a way of travelling the vast distances between stars without the restriction of physical laws. We are consuming our planets resources and at some point, it really will become impossible to go anywhere else.
     
    On the other hand, Star Trek is all about optimism for the future, so having reduced trekkies around the world to uncontrollable rage or utter despair at the likely failure of their religion, lets all hope it can happen. Or better still, actually try to make it so, rather than squabbling and spending all our efforts in knocking each other down. Somehow, I think we'll still be fighting outside starport cantinas and dropping litter on distant worlds come what may.
     
    Star Trek Moment of the Week
    Wandering about the local beauty spots I passed a pair of single mums pushing their little infant-transporters (which I presume contained their offspring - I dread to look) and they casually gave their opinion of me to each other as I passed.
     
    "He's on a different planet"
     
    "Yeah"
     
    Cool. DS (Remember her?) once described me as Mr Spock, but now I'm actually walking the surface of another world. I could have told them that. I've been calling Swindon an alien world since I started this blog. However, lets not get angry. Remember the Prime Directive of Non-Interference? Go in peace, alien mothers. Please.
  25. caldrail

    Wind In The Writing

    By caldrail,

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