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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  1. caldrail

    Wings

    By caldrail,

    I woke up this morning to bright sunshine yet again. How much longer can this go on for? We brits aren't used to good weather. Extended bouts of sunny days makes us go all loopy, doing daft things like jumping off bridges into dangerous rivers, slowly roasting ourselves where-ever we find a spot to lie down, and discovering how far you can stretch fashion before foreigners are visibly nauseous. I have an uncontrollable urge to buy bottles of cheap cider and watch the world go by. Hang on... What's going on?... Is that a cloud I see in the sky? Look there, there's another one. And another. Oh ye gods we're being invaded by cloud! Nice, white fluffy clumps of dreary dampness. Welcome back English weather.
     
    Oh yes, I forgot. The air restrictions for flights in and out of Britain are lifted today. It was an omen.
     
    The Scourge Of Energy Drinks
    I see in the news that a woman on an Anti-Social Behaviour Order has blamed her bad attitude on her addiction to Red Bull. Fifteen cans a day? Fifteen? How can she afford it? That's
  2. caldrail
    Winter is here. Okay, that statement might sound a tad obvious, but in Britain it means a good deal more. For the last few decades we've had gentle Autumn temperatures, and apart from strong winds for a few weeks, there's very little winter until after Christmas. This year we've had a sharp plunge in temperatures as cold winds from Europe sweep in from the east. For the last two days, grim warnings of snow have been made, which has pleased the doom-mongering weather people as it gives them a chance to display a different warning triangle.
     
    As I popped down to the library early this evening, I noticed a few flakes of smow drifting in the wind. It was all a bit odd seeing as there was hardly any clouds in the sky. I passed a young couple beside the busy town center road junction and the girl stopped her partner and said "Ooooh... Look at that!"
     
    Her breathless enthusiasm (yes, I looked, I am such a sheep) was about a dusting of snow piled against the side of the road. Just there. Nowhere else. It did look surreal, like some sort of advertisement for this years forthcoming snowfall.
     
    What A Nice Lady
    I was waiting at the booking screen in the library. This is, unfortunately an occaisonal test of patience, as there's a direct relationship between the number of people queueing to book computers and the time they take to find that special perfect cubicle. Not too suprisingly, it was happening again.
     
    This time the hopelessly confused dunce was a damsel in distress. She was actually older than me, a lively vivacious woman who was desperately trying to figure out how to get the selection she wanted. It was just a shame that I'm a complete dunce at speaking serbo-croat. So we spent a fun five minutes repeating ourselves in ever decreasing circles and enjoying it thoroughly.
     
    Sniff
    My noisy neighbour has finally given up and moved out, leaving a bunch of even noisier contractors rebuilding the premises from early morning to well into the evening. Nothing I can do about that I guess, but last night after they'd gone home it was like sniffing glue with the fumes of noxious paint and adhesives seeping through the floorboards. So bad was it that I had to keep the windows open to prevent suffocation, and in the freezing temperatures in the middle of the night, it wasn't funny.
     
    That's me under the piles of duvets and warm clothing. Sniff.
     
    Job Search Success of the Week
    It's a repetitive, soulless existence, forever filling out forms and sending optomistic appeals to employers to throw caution to the winds and hire someone like. Imagine my suprise then when an employer phoned me. As luck would have it, as always happens in moments of significant communication, I was up to my neck in bath water and missed the call completely (trust me, hot water is really lovely right now)
     
    When I phoned them back it was a private college who said (and I almost quote) that I meet their criteria and don't need to be interviewed. Erm.. Okay... But I still need to turn up and discuss whether I exist and have a criminal record.
     
    Why do I get the sinking feeling that I'm this years chosen victim at St Trinians?
     
    Rage of the Machine
    Go for it lads. Killing In The Name Of Real Music. Sorry Simon, but you didn't gatecrash my Christmas bash last year so I don't care if your ordered and monopolised little world is running into competition. Besides, your trousers are pulled higher than mine and that is soooo last year.
     
    A Bit More Tagged On The End
    Oooh, hang on a moment, don't go away... Keep on reading. Swindon just gets better and better. I saw some policemen the other day. Three of them patrolling together. You know you're in trouble when policemen go around in three's. I don't think they'll get into any trouble though, because I also saw a cheeky chap giving them a friendly wave. Sadly though not all criminals are so sociable. After all the hassle and mounting crime they've had to reopen the police stations in town, but only on three days a week, so criminals don't get too frustrated.
     
    On the other hand now Swindon's been twinned with Disneyland in Florida (that is not a joke... Oh hang on though...) perhaps we could open a theme park here.
     
    Swindonland. I can see it now... Oh. I see they have... Right out the window to my right...
     
    Stop Press!!!
    Today I discovered what was going on with the odd flurry of snow. Looking out the window to my right I see a snow making machine on the roof of IS= bar, just across the road. There it goes, a stream of snowflakes from a what looks like a gun barrel perched precariously on the roof.
     
    What on earth is it for? We've got snowfall drifting across Britain already. Kent is knee deep in the stuff (or so the alarmist news reports suggest) already. It's only a matter of time before we get a flurry or two here. So far, all the snow machine has achieved is several bemused pedestrians and a minor road accident.
     
  3. caldrail

    Wishful Thinking

    By caldrail,

    For some strange reason I seem to have been co-opted as the local guide. Some guy stops me in the high street and asks where the supermarket is, even though his friend already knows and can't get a word in edgeways. Another chap wants to know where a certain solicitors office is. A lady stops me in the street and I confirm she isn't lost. I'm thinking of selling guided tours of Swindon. Or perhaps there's an opportunity to make a living exploiting the rich variety of wildlife and colourful grafitti to be found here? Swindon Safaris... Hey, all I need is a pair of shorts, a hunting rifle, and a land rover with big tires and my fortune is made.
     
    Unseasonal Weather
    We're being warned that even hotter weather is due to arrive in the week ahead. Ye gods if it goes on like this I'll have to start wearing tee shirts. I did see a black a few days ago waiting for a taxi at the car park next to the Brunel Centre, our local shopping mall. He was dressed entirely in black, his long leather jacket shining in the afternoon sunshine. Of course it goes goes without saying his head was shaven and his expression hidden mysteriously behind dark shades. An image certainly, but one might argue it wasn't cool in this weather. No wonder he was stood still patiently. he would have drowned if he'd moved a muscle. Either that or he was already dead from heat prostration and was too street-credible for anyone to notice.
     
    Sweaty Nights
    Last night it was too much. The warm air had filtered up into my ordinarily chilly flat and it was becoming uncomfortable. This is the end of April for crying out loud - what's going to happen in late August? Anyway I opened the window and did my best to cope. All the traffic noise outside gradually subsided as the night wore on. The people across the street from me are too weary from the heat and for once seem unwilling to provide another demonstration of how to make sex as boring as possible. The girl downstairs has finally recovered from her emotional upset, and the cries, yells, wails, sobs, and banging of furniture has quietened down. All is reverting to the silence of a Swindon nighttime...
     
    So inevitably along come a bunch of anthropoids fresh from their watering holes and as always seems to happen, stop outside my house to socialise in loud hoots, pick fleas off each other, and genrally get involved in a lot of male bonding. Yes, I can hear you... But they give up and wander off in silence as is the standard behaviour of Homo Bozo. Now it's peaceful and quiet. So I'll get some shut eye until a late night reveller decides he fancies driving home in my car and discovers to his dismay his car thieving skills are not sufficient to breathe life into it. Guess you'll have walk home, sonny. Oh if only it was raining...
  4. caldrail

    Wishing For Things

    By caldrail,

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

    Woke Up This Mornin'

    By caldrail,

    What a morning - it's all go at the Caldrail residence. This morning, at the ungodly hour of half past eight, I was dragged from my bed by a knock on the door. Before me were two suspicious characters who cheerfully said "All right mate? We're just gonna paint the house..."
     
    Well thats very kind of you. Just wait there will you?.... I'd not received a letter about this so I proceed to phone the letting agent who phoned the landlord who phoned the property maintenance firm who phoned the landlord who phoned the letting agent who phoned me but I was too slow picking up the phone so I phoned them to find out everything was ok. Right lads, you can paint the house.
     
    They cheerfully nodded and proceeded to give a very original vocal-only rendition of Perry Como's back catalogue of hit singles. Think I might be tempted to make another phone call... When the phone rang. It's the electrician who was supposed to inspect the flat on Sunday but couldn't so he came today instead. In order to acess my premises he discovered that I was in fact upstairs, so another problem resolved.
     
    The art of communication is not yet dead. Now of course I have to do all that domestic stuff like the shopping (I wonder if I should phone ahead... Maybe not) and asking the government to find me another job vacancy - which will require another phone call.
     
    Except I can't because the battery has run flat. So will mine if this pace carries on.
     
    Name of the Week
    The electrician, in a somewhat mischievious mood, showed me the name of one of my neighbours. How could anyone be cursed with a name that describes the function of an orifice in the lower abdomen used to deposit bodily waste. I kid you not.
  6. caldrail
    Today I'm setting aside my usual commentary on the World and its problems, and shall therefore describe events in a normal Caldrail Day. You know the sort of thing, that blues song..
     
    7:00am - Wake up.
     
    7:01am - Roll over and go back to sleep.
     
    8:30am - Neighbours go to work.. wardrobe doors banging.... giggling and shouting..... Car starting up and driving off....
     
    8:35am - Garage across the yard opens for business and the yard fills up with customers cars. Engines making all sorts of 'orrible noises, alarms going off...
     
    8:45am - No its no good. Up I get, morning ablutions - Ye gods I look I've been pulled through a hedge...
     
    9:00am - Turn up at the library to log on and fill my blog with stuff like this...
     
    9:05am - AM complains his emails aren't working.
     
    9:10am - AM complains the advice the library techie gave him isn't working...
     
    9:15am - AM gives up and goes over to the papers and tell his mates everything he knows about the Anglo-Zulu war of 1879... Wouldn't mind but he's so wrong...
     
    9:20am - AM tells everyone he's going to South Africa soon.
     
    9:25am - Miss L saunters past.... For some reason I can't remember what I was typing...
     
    10:00 - Times up - the computer logs me out. I leave the library.
     
    Wow. What a fun packed day, and its only mid-morning! You guys must be soooo jealous...
  7. caldrail

    Women In Charge

    By caldrail,

    I don't usually like to sound sexist, but I've decided that after many years experience, women bosses are useless.
     
    Why?
     
    First is DG. She rose to power on the basis of impressing the male managers with her knowledge and expertise of our database workstations. Actually I don't think she knew that much - she was just better than most of making a big thing of it. Anyhow, she became the warehouse manager. All very smart and efficient, but she never left her office. The whole warehouse got to the point of collapse when she emerged one day and asked - "Whats going on?". She was also the person who left a briefcase in the foyer and sparked off a bomb alert involving police, the fire brigade, and a bomb disposal team from the army. Ok, everyone, you can go home now....
     
    Or BB. Bless her. She was a rising star in the offices and they brought her into the warehouse for experience. One day she gathered a few of us long-timers and sat us down. "Right" She said, "I want you all to oversee stock control, and I want to sit down together each day and discuss any issues and resolve them amongst each other, and..."
     
    I stopped BB in mid flow. B, I said, whats the point? There's no issues to discuss and if we need anything, we just ask someone. BB stared open jawed at the alien concept of co-operation, then said "Yes, but I want you to discuss your issues....."
     
    Lets not forget DS. A dizzy blonde who cannot retain her balance in social situations, a woman for whom no frivolity was beneath her. A woman who turned the office into a practice range for elastic band missiles, whom I personally wrestled for possession of her golf balls (which she had been banging on the desk - why? What did you think they were?). A woman who sacks anyone who doesn't join her crowd of admirers, and a woman who has spent time in psychiatric counselling (nicknamed the 'Nutty Club' by us minions). A woman who believes a Vauxhall Vectra is a desirable motor car. Luckily she's also got a memory span that a goldfish would pour scorn on so now that she's sacked me, I can relax safe in the knowledge she's already forgotten me.
     
    How to be patient
    The telephone rings. I fall off the seat clumsily and pick up the receiver to speak with a bemused delivery driver who can't find my address. Not too suprising, since the address was incorrect. Is that typical for imports through Ireland? No matter. The driver was given the correct address, and I awaited my software eagerly.
     
    At 15:00 hours (approximately) I begin installing the package. Gone are the days of multiple disks and hefty instruction manuals, all you get now is a DVD.
     
    At 16:45, I realise the install procedure isn't going to be quick. Good job I'm patient. The progress bar has hardly moved. I decide to wander off and do something else in the meantime.
     
    At 21:38, the install dialog brings up a message saying "Processing Help System. Help is being installed. This may take an extended amount of time". My desk soon develops several dents and my head hurts...
     
    00:35 and all is well! Its installed! Yahoooo! (thump) zzzzzzz.....zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.........
  8. caldrail

    Women Trouble

    By caldrail,

    Despite my recent trend of staying bed, I slid out from under the piled insulation into the cold bedroom for an earlier start at the sunday library session. Unusually for sunday there was activity out back. In the yard a large white van burbled past and off down the alleyway.
     
    This sunday is a day that doesn't seem to know what it wants to inflict on Swindon. The pavement is damp, the sky a dreary grey with occaisional sunny spells, and there's a mood of let's get on with another sunday no matter how boring it is.
     
    Naturally enough then the crowd was building up in the library foyer for the ritual opening of the gates. BFL was. She's a regular these days, and I have to say, probaly the most consistently annoying person ever born.
     
    She sat down to book a computer upstairs. This is something she's done many, many times before, yet failed compl;etely this morning. "Oh I'm not having much luck yoday." She announced.
     
    In fact, part of her annoying character is the constant loud commentary she provides to everything she does. It's as if we all have to be interested in the minutae of her existence. A rather public spirited schoolgirl of asian origin spotted her mistake, and very kindly began to correct BFL's error.
     
    "Don't want to be rude," BFL snarled, "But go away. It's none of your business."
     
    Oh? Really? I thought the public service announcements were for a purpose? And indeed they were. The young security guard, D, emerged from his hidey hole and was immediately pounced on by BFL, who is now on first name terms with him whether the unfortunate lad likes it or not. She positively fawned and stroked him. Ugh. I mean, she's old enough to be his granny. But of course, she got her way, and D booked her computer slot for her.
     
    That it? Happy now? Almost. She was also keen to be first through the door. Trouble is she took the lift which meant we all arrived ahead of her. Some people never learn.
     
    Oops of the Week
    I got a letter yesterday. There's been some doubt raised concerning the validity of my jobsearch.
     
    This always happens. As soon as there's any trust established, as soon as you think everyones happy you're contientiously seeking gainful employment, they land a blow on you like this. Strictly speaking they could stop my money without so much as a by or leave.
     
    What did I do wrong? Or more to the point, what didn't I do? I don't know. My life is a whirlwind of applications and emails. Or maybe the big boss lady at the job centre has decided it's my turn to have my head ground down by high heels.
     
    What? Again?
  9. caldrail

    Work Issues

    By caldrail,

    The Big Stocktake is due in a couple of days, the managers are nervous, and the weekend shift has predictably left chaos in their wake. No pressure then.
     
    My paltry duty today was to bring some kind of order to the rows of cardboard boxes behind the stairs, the most chaotic region of all, and so off I went, wading through collapsing piles of boxes, waste polythene, and discarded piles of clothes. This is life on the sharp end of Stockrooming. It's a strange experience working in a singularity, where the normal physical laws of the universe don't apply. Here, in this macro-quantum zone, boxes mysteriously change shape, pens roll away into nothingness, and packing tape proves to be an evil intelligent entity bent on your utter frustration.
     
    There's also a tendency, being on your own for several hours, to begin talking out loud. So often did I make a commentary on my obervations and accidents (and no shortage of whinges) that J announced that Caldrail FM was on the air.
     
    The Phone Rings
    Once in a while we get an internal phone call from the shop floor. I answered a call once, being the only individual still working, and proving beyond doubt that I'm too old to understand such telecommunication technology. Oh well, I tried.... So the next time it rang I ignored it. I had to in any case, because I was trapped behind an avalanche of clothing, but KS didn't stir from his comfortable spot in the next row.
     
    A young lady, somewhat irate at our lack of enthusiasm for communication, rushed down the main aisle yelling "Don't you people ever answer the phone?"
     
    To be honest, no, we don't. We also have a habit of leaving the toilet seat up too. And other male-related issues.
     
    Mister Jones To The Ground Floor Please
    You will never know how regularly that message gets heard over the tannoy. You'd think the poor man would have gotten there by now. Either that of he can't get a lunch break without problems breaking out on the shop floor. Then there's always a request for a cleaner to go to the tills. What is going on down there?
     
    Weather Report of the Week
    Yes, they got it wrong again. We saw some snow today. Ooh look, there goes some now.... No, over there... Too late, you missed it...
  10. caldrail
    Things just get more and more awkward every day. It really doesn't feel like I'm in control of my life any more, and to be honest, there's every reason to believe someone is interfering in my business as no opportunity to disrupt my income is being missed. Well, for the time being, I'm back in the saddle, working at the Honda car plant. Don't get me wrong - this is not my dream job in any way whatsoever, but it will pay the bills for a while.
     
    My colleagues, many of whom are being taken on at the same time as me, come from a wide variety of countries. There are of course the ubiquitous Poles, as well as Hungarians, czechs, Goans and other assorted Indians, Italians, Egyptians, and at least one American appeared on the radar today. Two of my female colleagues wanted to know who he was, and with typical working class forthrightness demanded "'Oo are you then?". It turned out it was the Vice President of Honda USA on a visit. Result.
     
    On the negative side the 'full training given' turns out to be rather less full and more sporadic. I even had to walk away from one trainer I was assigned to because he admitted he didn't know what he was doing. The trouble, so the agency informs us, is that Honda don't normally take on so many temps in one go. There's certainly demand for them - I've had a total of five agencies trying to hire me for the same job. I know, the scheme to earn five times as much has occurred to me, but I tried that once before in another warehouse - it doesn't work.
     
    Also Not Working
    My grand plan to learn some Polish has hit the rocks. Not through want of effort, it's just that the Poles shorten their vowels so much that their language is almost impossible for us lazy English speakers to get right. I've had one young Polish lady reduced to hysterics by my continued efforts to say "teabreak" in Polish. The word is said something like p'sher'va, but as easy as it looks, she just giggles and says it again in clipped Polish preciseness.
     
    Vending Machine Of The Week
    The works canteen has a row of typical vending machines for snacks and drinks. They do work, as it happens, as anything not working is not the Japanese way. So, having no cash to spend, I decide a cup of free cold water would do. Number eighty.... Aha... I now have to chose whether I want Strong, Normal, or Weak water. Really?
     
    My trials are nothing compared to one colleague, FJ, who is the only temporary worker to receive full training, knows everything, and thus is respected and consulted by all despite this being his first job and only present for a week so far. He's even decided to go on the night shift to get away from all the fame and fortune. His choice of breaktime tipple was Beef Soup. Strong, naturally, as he always chooses Strong. Big mistake, FJ. When it says Strong, it means it. Now he buys cans of fizzy drinks and looks forward to his girlfriends curries to get through the day, and breaks out in a sweat whenever Beef Soup is mentioned. Personally, I 'll stick to water. It doesn't seem to make any difference which strength I choose.
  11. caldrail
    Jobsearching is getting a bit frustrating. I've just been to the Job Centre to page through their vacancy database and found two new vacancies in the last seven days, for a town the size of Swindon. Both are self employed vacancies requiring own transport, so that rules me out.
     
    With politicians breathing down our necks, the need for paperwork to prove we're all good little jobseekers is getting a bit much. I've been given another pair of forms asking for details of weeks of activity.
     
    The boss of the Job Centre tells me there's no intention of trying to catch people out. Who's he trying to kid? That's exactly what the form is designed for and I've harangued him about that once already. Bureaucracies do love red tape though. They thrive on it. So I guess I'll just have to write out another list of activity like I did last time.
     
    No dishonesty of course. Wouldn't want to get caught out, now would I?
     
    Inspection Day
    Every so often the letting agent asks to inspect the property just to make sure it's all being looked after. There's no big deal to it. Some person turns up with a clipboard, makes a few ticks in the boxes provided, and leaves as soon as they can drag themselves away from my rivetting conversation about Roman history.
     
    Yesterday was inspection day. By coincidence I'd spoken to the letting agent on another matter and I knew they were due to turn up any time after lunch. Except they didn't. Which meant I sat there twiddling my thumbs wasting an afternoon I could have spent on more productive activity. Looking for a job maybe?
     
    On The Bright Side
    The sun is shining. Blue skies with barely a cloud to spoil them. The temptation to enjoy this good weather is enormous. After all, it gets me out and about, meeting people, fresh air and exercise. Who knows? Maybe I'll find a job today.
  12. caldrail

    World Shaking News

    By caldrail,

    Everything seemed a bit grey this morning. Our first foggy morning in ages. Now that I've signed on at the dole office and wanderd up to the library to see to my jobsearching, the sun has broken out again. Maybe that's not quite world breaking news. Can I do better?
     
    Institute Is Falling Down
    Our beloved Mechanics Institute, a sort of all-purpose community centre built by the Great Western Railway in 1854, is in danger of collapse. The cellars are flooded. The roof is on the point of caving in. Parts of the building are now too dangerous to access.
     
    This has to be the most ridiculous situation ever. It's a historic grade II listed building, guaranteed preservation by law, and no-one knows what to do with the place. It's been slowly rotting away since the 70's. The chap who owns it has made a few maintenance efforts in order not to get prosecuted but otherwise this grand old edifice has had it.
     
    Okay, maybe that's not quite world breaking news either. Let's try something else.
     
    Headline News
    Local news is all about murder. A man was attacked and found unconcious at his home, later to die of his injuries. Naturally the locals are shocked by this tragedy. The thing is though, why are we so shocked?
     
    We know people die by violence. The circumstances of these events make daily viewing on television news, and our entertainment thrives on stories of such activity. Whilst I would hope Swindon isn't slowly metamorphosing into downtown Mogadishu, it does seem that we block out the nastiness and create some sort of 'little world' of our own. It all happens to someone else. Until it doesn't.
     
    Then again, whilst for Swindoners the news is disturbing and important, compared to the casualty rate in other parts of the world it's not exactly world shaking news either is it?
     
    My World Breaking Shock Horror News
    Anyone expecting me to announce before the worlds audience that I'm secretly gay is going to be disappointed here. Sorry, guys, I'm straight. So the little runt who decided to lambast me from the safety of his car will have to find someone else to sleep with tonight.
     
    Why is this so world shaking? Because some people want it to be. because they make loud noises and a big fuss over it. Because they want to force me to admit to something, so that they gain the kudos of being able to say "We told you so". It has become, sadly, something that fills their dreary little lives with amusement.
     
    Seems a bit odd that people aren't really interested in loss of life, culture, property, freedom, or anything else the news finds worth telling us about, but that they'd rather poke their nose into someones private lives.
     
    I have to laugh. My private life is about as public as you can get without a crowd of paparazzi following me. You only have to read this blog to know what I'm up to. Everything you ever wanted to know about me. Until it isn't.
  13. caldrail

    Worser And Worser

    By caldrail,

    At first glance you would think this was a summers day, The sky is blue, the sun is shining. It just doesn't feel warm though. There's an uncomfortable chill in the air which is quite unseasonal. Of course this good weather only arrived earlier, as I notice the ground was damp from overnight rain.
     
    There are of course other things putting a damper on todays fine weather. You might describe it as doom and gloom, at least potentially. Firstly there's an increase in energy bills coming our way again, just in time for winter. Hot water is becoming something of a luxury for me. Might have to invest in some thermals. But it won't make any difference because the gas company will still charge me nearly as much claiming it's the fee they require for ensuring the gas is connected.
     
    And it gets worse. Now the government are seeking savings from councils, probably to pay for the policemen they can't make redundant after those riots caused a political furore, which means that like around 16,000 other recipients of Council Tax Benefit, I might be facing extra bills this year. If the rioters or burglars don't get you, the council will.
     
    With a bit of luck I'll have enough left to eat. I've been living on sandwiches this past week as it is. Oh yeah... I forgot... Food prices are rising.
     
    Think About It
    I see IBM are claiming they've invented a computer chip that learns for itself. That's just great. Next year all cars will be fitted with back seat drivers that really will know better than you. And instead of just not doing what you want in dumb insolence, your desktop computer will be able to tell you what an ignoramus you are. I can't even begin to tell you what I think those 'android' powered smart phones will be capable of.
     
    As an advance in technology it is fantastic. But, inexorably, we human beings strive to prove that science fiction was right all along. You don't believe me? Think about it. A machine does what we design or program it to do.
     
    Doom And Gloom of the Week
    Of course if I get a job all my prayers will be answered. That's what they tell me, though I do wonder if I might find my bills increase as well as my earnings. No matter, the government want me to work for a living so once again I trawl through the vacancy lists for something to get rejected for.
     
    "We found this vacancy for you" My advisor told me, shoving a piece of paper under my nose that has no contact information on it whatsoever. "Can you do that job?"
     
    What? Manual labour in a warehouse? Good grief I've had seventeen years of warehousing ranging from sweeping the floors to running the premises. I think I can manage a few more years of it. Hardly a challenge there.
     
    Well, I got the reply from the recruitment agency the other day. Not enough experience.
  14. caldrail

    Xmas Pooping

    By caldrail,

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

    Year of the Ox

    By caldrail,

    Its the Chinese New Year, and since they haven't been inflicted deeply by the economic downturn, today they've been celebrating. It also happens to be Year of the Ox which is good news for me, because in Chinese astrology that's me - I'm an Ox. There you go, I've admitted it.
     
    Get Away From It All
    Australia are advertising for a guy to run Hamilton Island, a tropical paradise, in a deal involving free flights, feeding turtles, collecting mail, scuba swimming, running a Hamilton Island blog, watching whales, and modest pay. So whats the catch? The Tourist Authority say the succesful applicant will a zest for life. I nod knowingly. You'll be stuck miles from anywhere without anyone to talk to. A bit like Swindon then.
     
    Adverts of the Week
    I was watching late night tv and the inevitable adverts turned their attention to those feeling lonely and unloved on the weekend. Phone now and speak to lovely girls. Who knows where it will lead? Call me jaded, but I think I already know. The next advert stated categorically that I would be speaking to genuine girls. Phew. I thought the robots had taken over. Still, if I happen to get the job on Hanilton Island at least I'll have someone to talk to, assuming my mobile phone battery lasts that long.
  16. caldrail

    Yes But Seriously...

    By caldrail,

    I see another high ranking terrorist received a visit from a US drone. Well Mr Al Ad... Erm... Al Adn.... Well whatever your name was, I doubt you'll be missed. Oh. You weren't.
     
    Personally I don't really like assassination as a tool of global politics, but in all seriousness, I just cannot find myself criticising America for it if extremist hatemongers get a taste of their own medicine.
     
    Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch
    There's more and more nationalities that I'm stumbling across at work. South Africa, Colombia, and Nepal. All working in Swindon? Amazing what a global car manufacturer can do for a town. Except train their employees. I've been there two weeks and still haven't received 'full training'. How hard can this job be?
     
    Too hard for one lad. he had that aura of mischief about him. I never spoke to him much, partly because his vocabulary was limited to several phrases, partly because it was impossible to feel safe in his presence. Whilst the boss was wandering the shop floor he observed this one particular individual outside, throwing cardboard boxes backward over his head into a baler machine. Come with me young man! And that was the last we saw of him. Turns out he was also enjoying a wizard wheeze throwing on the handbrakes of passing forklift trucks. We were lucky something didn't blow up. Instead, the boss did.
     
    A Little Red Faced
    When Facebook wanted to launch their own satellite costing millions who did they turn to? NASA? Russian Space Agency? India or China? Nope. They went to Spacex, creators of the worlds first re-usable launch rocket, or at least, re-usable when they can land it without the thing exploding. So having successfully landed their creation, they perch the Facebook satellite on top, refill the tanks, and light the fuse... KABOOOM!!!!
     
    You really have to admire the Spacex sales team.
     
    Product Placement Of The Week
    Buy a Honda.
     
    There you go. My first ever product endorsement now that I'm sort of sponsored by them. Americans have no excuse because some of the cars we're building are heading their way. That means that some of you will be purchasing automobiles that have my DNA on them. Now before I get letters from US lawyers demanding compensation for some horrific accident (or even just parking in the wrong place), I would point out that I did report an error in one part the other day. Potentially I saved the company millions in product recalls, or who knows, even lives. Didn't even get a thank you. Hmmpf.
  17. caldrail
    I have now finished my six months with New Deal, which means I get a new claims advisor, so at last I don't have to suffer that loathsome woman. She tried today to put a vacancy under my nose that I'd already discussed and decided was untenable. When I mentioned we'd already discussed that one, there was a flash of anger across her face. She very nearly went into another display of bovine outrage.
     
    Another thing is that recently I applied for a job being handled by a recruitment agency. I really do dislike agencies. Quite apart from the fact they operate as slave-traders to all intents and purposes, they also come across as untrustworthy and very definitely partisan about how they go about their business. That said, nothing ventured, nothing gained, so I answered the phone message left by one of their team this morning.
     
    No matter how much I tried, all I got was a 'diverted call' message. Doesn't he want to talk to me, then? Oh well, their office isn't far away, I'll drop in and sort something out. I should mention at this point that the weather today is wet. It's been a while since we've had more than light drizzle, and a uniformly sombre grey sky is delivering its load of rain without interruption. Looking out the window I see the usual collection of umbrellas and soaked hoodies. The reason I mention this is that I didn't turn up dressed neat and tidy.
     
    There were two people in the office, both of afro-carribbean extraction. Near the front was a sharp dressed man, shaven haired, spotlessly clean, and clearly not noticing my presence at all. I see. You will hear it said that we judge by first appearances. There are those who judge entirely on appearances. Because I wasn't dressed in a similar manner to him, I was, in his eyes, worthless and fit to be ignored. For an employment agency that relies on people coming through the door for business, you have to wonder at his attitude, but then it's a sign of the times. With so many people unemployed or seeking better jobs, they really can pick and choose.
     
    Eventually the pretty and charming young lady sat right at the back of the office could stand the strain no longer. She bounded to the front and asked if she could help. Thank you. However, it seems the phone call I received was dubious. She told me that no-one of that name worked there. "We're mostly women here." She added.
     
    Well, I said, glancing at Sharp Dressed Man, it seems he's been put in his place.
     
    Bang, You're Dead
    According to the news, a CIA pilotless drone has killed a senior member of Al Q'aeda. Third in command no less. As the saying goes, you live by the sword, you die by the sword. Back in the days of the Cold War, it was common urban legend that the CIA went around assassinating people, a story no doubt fuelled by paranoia, anti-americanism, and no shortage of spy thrillers in print or the big screen. For once, I'm glad they have. Sadly it probably doesn't make the world a safer place. The job will soon go to another zealot. But at least you can't help feeling that justice has been done in some way.
  18. caldrail
    I got drafted. There's no other word for it. David Cameron's Big Society means that I have social responsibility and thus I must accept that occupational contribution, voluntary work, workfare, or whatever you want to call it, is now feature of being unemployed. So I reported to the charity organisation as ordered, only unlike National Serice of previous generations, I didn't bring a sitcase and toothbrush.
     
    Not everyone who volunteers gets through basic training. A few listless youngsters faded away over the first few days. The professional malingerer Mr J was there, immedioately claiming that he suffered from this ailment or that, what cruel world world it was, that voluntary work was too lowly for him, or whatever excuse he could think of. And once again, he stomped out in moral outrage, going back to his laid back llifestyle while I and others roisk life and limb in the secondhand furniture trade.
     
    The charity I was ordered to volunteer for was a sort of furniture warehouse combined with a cafe. The sort of place whee you can drp in, enjoy a coffee, exchange a bit of banter, and buy some secondhand furniture. The furniture gets donated by all sorts of people, rich or poor, so that people without money can purchase stuff other people don't want.
     
    My first day was in the workshop, sanding down neglected garden table and chairs, and then to varnish them. Not with any old creosote mind you, thinned down yacht varnish. Only the best for the financially challenged. Of course it was pointless arguing. The workshop leader was an old craftsman who didn't talk to anyone else and got disgruntled by everyone elses lack of craftmanship. Like mine, as it transpires.
     
    So I spent the day mindlessly daubing the table and chairs with none-too-cheap varnish and getting suburnt. Aside from the lack of olive green clothes and some african american sergeant in a slouch hat yelling ayt me to do yet more press ups, the oppressive heat of our flaming July, I might as well as gotten off a bus at Biloxi in the deep south of the USA. All for Queen and country. I'm in the Charity now.
     
    Opinion Of The Week
    I happened to be watching the news channel Al Jazeerah the other day and along came a report about a film festival somewhere out there in the world. There's a strong theme of war films apparently, with no punches barred, covering some controversial subjects. It inspired an interview with someone who spouted this little nugget of ridiculous wisdom...
     
    The purpose of art is to force us to face our most painful truths
     
    What? That most of us are either talentless or gifted con merchants? Art exists as a form of expression. We can express anything. Romanticism, entertainment, drama, political beliefs, religious sentiment, or simply a statement of ego. If you want to comunicate pain, so be it. Personally I like my landscapes, or those pictures that invoke moods and dreams. I already know the truth of it - that I prefer the escapism, the suggestion that I'm glimpsing a time and place I canot otherwise experience..
     
    But getting back to the point, what do we want to see in a war film? I note that the nastiness of war is becoming the prevalent theme. Camaraderie, heroism - these aren't forbidden subjects but it seems as if they're deeply unfashionable. Why is the world film industry suddenly getting so moral and determined to express political controversy? Is it because there are important messages to be said, or is it because people are bored with commercial stereotype movies, or is the constant barrage of media broadcasts politicising our view of human conflict and the injustices it generates? News reports don't change the world into a better place, so I seriously doubt art is going to. However seriously some artists want to be taken.
  19. caldrail
    Oh look. It's the end of the world again. Someone has worked out by complicated mathematical formulae based on a date arrived at by a medieval monk (no doubt according to complex mathematical formulae too) that the end of the world takes place on May 21st.
     
    So if anyone fancies the pretty girl in the office and never had the courage to make a pass, better get a move on. Time is running out. Joking aside though, how you would you spend your last 24 hours on earth?
     
    This subject came up with the guy running the job club this afternoon, which is why I discovered the world was ending. Ignorance is bliss it seems. Anyway, I went into my usual denounciations of idiocy and dishonesty regarding predictions from religious sources.
     
    "Chill, man..." He said in his laid back East Indies style, "Go somewhere, do something, spend your money and have a great time..."
     
    Yes, but that's you. Your character. Not everyone would want to party the rest of their life away.
     
    "Why? Why wouldn't they want to enjoy their last day?"
     
    Because some people would want to come to terms with their existence ending tomorrow.
     
    "Nah." He replied. "No time for that."
     
    Never mind, it's all round to Mr J's house for partying on down until the world suffers an earthquake of biblical proportions and the universe catches fire. Hey, that's what the prediction is. Don't blame me if the party ends like an episode of Thunderbirds.
     
    "Nah. I ain't got any money in the bank anyhow."
     
    People never learn, do they? Ever since mankind discovered religion and learned how to preach, the end of the world was going to happen tomorrow. Except, as we all know, tomorrow never comes. So anyone waiting for the Rapture will just have to wait a bit longer. And the only Tribulation I'm going to get is more bills and red tape.
     
    What is the point of making a successful prediction for the End of the World? I mean, saying 'I told you so' is a waste of time if no-one is left alive to get irritated about it. You can't become rich and famous when the universe goes up in smoke, the dead rise, and Jesus invites the meek to bail out. Hang on a minute... Didn't Jesus say the meek would inherit the Earth? Inherit what? A post-apocalyptic ruin of a world in a universe made of charcoal?
     
    But why am I worrying? A recent study suggests half the bible is a forgery anyway. With a bit of luck, I'll be in the half of the universe that doesn't end in disaster. That said, I live in Swindon. The odds are not good.
     
    The New World
    Astronomers are claiming they've discovered a habitable world twenty light years away. As holiday destinations go, it might not be the best. The journey time is going to be somewhat excessive (once in a lifetime visit and return tickets extra), and although the world should be on the cold side, the proportion of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere calls for very, very warm experience. If that wasn't enough, the gravity is about twice as strong as ours, so falling over drunk is twice as likely to get you into Accident & Emergency.
     
    But why bother? The universe is going to burn up in a day or two so we're told. So unless you had the foresight to build your own interstellar ark by now, you might as well cancel your holiday plans.
     
    Another Alien Invasion
    I've been warned that aliens are descending on north Swindon shortly. No, that's not some crackpot prediction made by complex mathematical forumlae, but a news item from a charity that mounts these invasions to raise money for good causes. Which is pretty much the excuse used for all invasions since the dawn of Dr Who.
     
    I wish the Daleks well in their attempt to exterminate North Swindon and hope it raises oodles of cash for the good cause.
  20. caldrail

    Zippidee Doodah

    By caldrail,

    My oh my what a wonderful day. Plenty of sunshine heading my way.
     
    That's what I like to tell myself. In reality it's now four years since I had a full time job. Somebody else seems to have noticed that as well because I got a terse text message from the programme centre the other day telling me to turn up to a mandatory activity session. The next morning a letter arrived telling me to turn up or else.
     
    "Does everyone know why you're here?" Asked the lady presenting the session. No-one answered. It turns out the government has decided that we're all going to be assigned jobs where-ever they can be found. No interviews required. The staff at the programme centre seemed a little baffled by the lack of response from us jobseekers. It wasn't that we all wanted to sit on our backsides at public expense - those that did soon revealed themselves with a desperate excuse as the truth dawned on them - but rather that here was a job given to us on a plate. Almost all of us were long term claimants. For years we've been bombarded with pep talks, warnings, advice, and training to turn us into succesful jobseekers. so where was the achievement? I wonder if the programme centre staff have realised that?
     
    Out of the Box
    Every so often someone pops into the museum with bags and boxes of stuff that's been lying around the house in some forgotten corner for long enough. Usually it's nothing but rubbish so when this very scenario occured today I groaned inwardly.
     
    Customer service... Smile for the customer... Listen politely to the tale of how this stuff has to find a new home or get thrown out.... As it happens this time the customer rhad brought in a box full of old vacuum tubes, some dating back to the Second World War. I looked through the collection, discovering that the black ones marked 'RCA' were american, those marked 'VR' were british military surplus, and... hallo.... What's this? German?
     
    It was. An old tube in good condition from a Luftwaffe radio set. I asked him about it and he confirmed he'd been billetted at former german airfields after the war. Young L couldn't understand why I was making a fuss. "What's the big deal?" He asked me. History, lad, history. We're so used to regarding these contributions as nothing more than other peoples unwanted rubbish that we forget some of this stuff really is a piece of the past you can reach out and touch.
     
    My oh my... What a wonderful day...
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