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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  1. caldrail

    Making Noise

    By caldrail,

    "This next one is going to be brutal" Said the DJ on the radio last night. He did sound like he needed trauma therapy for Post Thrash Metal Syndrome. "So you might want a bag. Don't put it on your head though, that's dangerous".
     
    Consumer advice at this time of night? Okay mate, no bag on head. Got it. Then the next track started, or at least I think it was music, it was sort of hard to tell. I seem to remember Young L at the museum trying to impress me with a downloaded mp3 from the band Carnifex once before. It's okay though, I didn't suffer any long term effects.
     
    The music was pretty indescribable. Everyone in the band seemed to be playing stuff at random, played so quickly it all sort of merged into a staccato drilling noise. As for the vocals, I'm not sure there was any. Anyway the sum total was that I've witnessed the noise made by a tortured dinosaur attacked by a psychopathic dentist.
     
    I might have to apologise to Simon Cowell.
     
    Big Noise
    That was enough. Maybe I remember when music had a tune buried in it somewhere?
     
    By sheer coincidence I turned to television and a Russsia Today documentary about how sound has been used in a miltary context, for morale, psychological warfare, and torture. I think they showed this particular documentary before as I remember the interview with an american rock band about the use of their music by troops in the war zone.
     
    At first glance it all seems odd and suprising, but then, isn't making a big noise a tactic used by wild animals to achieve their ends? And so warfare comes full circle, except by now we're a little better at being noisy than we used to be.
     
    Little Noise
    This morning sees a welcome return to the library of Mr Fidget, who is currently the noisiest person here. Coughs, splutters, heavy breathing and mumbling, all performed in perfect synchroonicity with graceful scrathing, rubbing, weight shifting, and clothing adjustment.
     
    This mornings performance was assisted by a gentleman giving us a solo on the mobile phone, plus a chorus of the Swindon Cough Society.
     
    Anyone would think I'm in a grousy mood this morning.
     
    Gripe Of The Week
    Recently I discovered that a recruitment agency was not using the CV's I sent them, preferring one that was years out of date. Having brought that to their attention I now discover they're still doing exactly that. Needless to say I'm outraged. No, seriously, I am. It's poor customer service, misrepresentation, and breaches data protection legislation.
     
    Needless to say I sent a stiff email in response. That'll sort 'em out. Cold emails... They don't like it up 'em....
  2. caldrail

    Heard It All Before

    By caldrail,

    Our local newsletter revealed that the old college site is to be demolished. Sounds familiar. Could I sworn I heard that soewhere before. It seems the impending destruction of Swindon's favourite ruin is too good a news story to forget.
     
    You would think that everyone would be talking about it. At the library yesterday morning all I heard was a request for maps and the constant moaning from someone who couldn't cope with the intricacies of the computer booking system. I know where you're coming from fella. It's got a quaint randomise function secretly built in for those who get too complacent. Think you booked a screen at eleven thirty? So does that other guy. What fun those librarians must have with innocent customers..
     
    Gold Rush
    Mind you the imminent obliteration of the old college site has had an interesting side effect. Workmen have been putting in new paving to assist disabled people from suing the local council for injuries sustained. The street has been there for a hundred and twenty years so I'm glad they finally got it finished in time to impress the construction workers due to work on the site next door.
     
    Not only that but the abandoned financial services store across the road is getting a facelift. Good grief. If this carries on we'll be coming out of the recession. Sadly my local supermarket has cottoned on that foreigners will soon be arriving in the area and so the traditional rise in prices is taking place. Forty pence more for a six pack of crisps? That's a third more than they cost last week. Lucky for me there are other supermarkets in the area. Cheap crisps and more exercise.
     
    News Of The Week
    What's this? Two boxers getting into a fight? Scandalous...
  3. caldrail

    Party On Dude

    By caldrail,

    I found out a big secret this weekend. Stay tuned to learn more.
     
    Party On Dude
    Saturday was the official museum social event of the year. Normally this sort of thing takes place around christmas or new year, but us museum folk take life at an easier pace, except for Mr J's hyperactive girlfriend who was clearly never taught how to behave in polite society. So we we stood there sort of drunk and confused while she turned into a human pinball.
     
    At one point in the proceedings she was comparing us to zoo animals. Somewhat foolishly I insisted on finding out which ferocious and magnificent creature I most resembled. Tiger? Elephant? Rhino? Nope. A sloth. And she didn't have to think about it either. Complaining did no good. My punishment for raising doubts about her decision was a lecture on the charm, wit, and street credibility that sloths have in her inebriated world. Now I know.
     
    The Party - The Sloth's View
    It wasn't such a bad party treally. My score was two hugs from pretty ladies, three cans of cider, seven mouthfuls of bombay mix, half a baguette in chilli dip, three adverse comments about the boss's hawaian shirt without remonition, one doorman successfully evaded, one erection from viewing pictures of supercars, and only one drunken admission of morally dubious wrestling with a former female boss for her golf balls.
     
    You might sneer, and I understand if you do, because compared to the high jinks that some people boast of, museum folk tend to be a bit tame. However I did score something much better. When Mr J's girlfriend was introduced to me as she paused inbetween spraying everyone with hair care products, she mentioned that she'd heard of me.
     
    Yes! Famous at last! Proof that even sloths can make it to the top of the tree.
     
    Why Swindon?
    Also the same saturday night I encountered a chap with a suspiciously american accent. Sorry, I could not resist finding out more. Is that accent genuine? Where do you come from?
     
    "San Diego" He replied with an odd sort of glance in my direction.
     
    San Diego? What on earth are you doing in Swindon?
     
    "What are you doing in Swindon?" He answered. Mostly I just live there it must be said, but I take his point and admire his ability to treat the entire world as his own backyard. Sadly my money gets stopped if I go abroad. I'm already poor - I don't feel the need to be homeless too. But then the museum party was on in Swindon - I was there - and so was he, all the way from southern Califormia.
     
    Big Secret Of The Week
    Still here? Okay, now it's time to reveal the big big secret. At least I would do but DW, our intrepid online journalist, has slapped a gagging order on me so I cannot reveal the identity of the gentleman who exposed himself to DW's girlfriend one night. What a terrible way to behave. I would never do something like that because bad things could happen. I know this because a female boss once had me sacked for changing trousers in the office too often. Sometimes it pays to let her win at golf ball wrestling.
  4. caldrail

    Me And Being Fifty

    By caldrail,

    Fifty is a strange age. Part of me knows full well I'm not young any more, that I ought to change my ways and act my age, while at the same time I simply cannot help being the veteran rebellious teenager I always was. Take yesterday for example. I approached the pedestrian crossing minding my own business and as if pheromones were setting off air raid sirens, I couldn't help noticing the twenty year old brunette across the road.
     
    I've no idea what sort of person she was but physically she was just about my perfect ten. She knew I was looking - young ladies seem to sense that instinctively - and she avoided eye contact in that sort of impatient desire to leave the area immediately. Being the gentleman I am I then stopped staring at her. In a way being fifty saved me from embarrasment. At a younger age a certain part of my anatomy would not have remained under control.
     
    Having averted my gaze I then noticed her mother - and she wasn't bad either. Then it struck me that I was at an age when strictly speaking my options were as wide as they could possibly be. What a tragedy then that I lack that all important pheromone - money. Or given that I'm fifty, unmarried, and fashionably shabby, that sweet smell of successful conformity.
     
    But they both had their eyes on me instead of the traffic when the gap presented itself. Possibly in fear I was going to approach them, who knows?. Nevertheless I like to be optimistic and hope I'll be in their dreams tonight. Hey, it's the first step, right? Sadly my dreams were later shattered by two young ladies at the surgery who clearly didn't see me as a sex object at all. Might need to ask the nurse if she's got something to heal my injured male pride.
     
    No, wait, that came out all wrong.... Dammit, this fifty years of age is as bad as being a teenager all over again.
     
    Reward Of The Week
    "Have you got a sticker?" The grandmother of an energetic four year old boy asked the receptionist at the surgery as I waited in the queue, "He's just been treated by the doctor and he's been very brave."
     
    I made a lame joke about him earning a medal. The receptionist didn't have any I've Been A Brave Boy stickers so she told him to make sure his granny rewarded him with sweeties or some other shameless means of ensuring good behaviour. I think I might of made a lame joke about that too. As gigs go, I wasn't getting through to my audience.
     
    Anyway my turn came and I handed over the paperwork. The receptionist came back with a sly grin and asked me "Do you want a sticker too?"
     
    Ha ha ha ha. I like you, you're funny. Suddenly everyone's a comedian.
  5. caldrail
    Tis the season for tree surgeons. The groundsmen at the park around the corner from where I live are still burning foliage. It's a wonder there's any left. That far side of the lake might be tidier but come summer it will look bare and artificial if they manage to keep the nettles and thorns back.
     
    Last night I took a look out the back of the home and saw that old elm tree at the other end of the alleyway was missing some foliage too. The entire left side of the tree was denuded of branches. This morning it had gone completely. Along the main road out front the greedy rasp of chainsaws were at work, stripping the tree nearest the house and... Hallo, what's going on here?... Trees behind the fence on the old college site are vanishing.
     
    No... It can't be happening... Surely the old college is here to stay, bats, vagrants, and security guards alike? Nope. Passing a newsagent this morning the word is out that the Old College is coming down. Okay, it might be a dishevelled eyesore, but truthfully I'm going to miss the old place.
     
    Serenading The Ladies
    Don't you just hate Valentines Night?
     
    If you go down to the pub tonight
    You better had open your eyes
    If you go down to the clubs to dance
    Prepare all your chat-up lines
    For every bloke that hasn't a girl
    Will be on the the town to give it a whirl
    'Cos tonight's the night that single men try to find one
     
    Was that you a couple of nights ago? If so, might I suggest that yellling your heads off on a quiet moonlit street at three o'clock in the morning is not going to attract a female? Take a tip - Read some Shakespeare.
     
    Bumps In The Night
    With all the knocks and bangs I can expect during demolition of the site almost next door, I seem to be getting some practice. One of my neighbours has gotten into the habit of bumping around in the small hours, closing doors with a hard clonk that walls and floorboards cannot obscure. Not only am I getting tired of it, so is another of my neighbours. So after the one finishes for the night, the other starts sliding heavy wooden abjects around.
     
    Sleep? Pfah! I laugh at those weak willed people who need a dose of shut eye to bump zzzzzzzzzz.... zzzzzzzzzzzz..... zzzzzzzzzzzzzz....
  6. caldrail

    Finding The Right Door

    By caldrail,

    There's only so many times I can comment on world affairs before I start saying the same old things. That kind of sums up the world pretty neatly in my view. Hearing the news that syrian troops have attacked civilians, greek demonstrators have attacked anything, or a british MP has attacked another for not being able to change things for the better, does not really suprise me any more. Well it wouldn't would it?
     
    So as I prepared to type out a blog entry last night I did think that I would struggle. In fact, I couldn't think of anything worth mentioning at all. Eventually I gave up up and went to bed. Then, as I slumbered in the small hours of this morning, my neighbour came to the rescue with a thoughtful and timely crescendo of banging doors. Cheers mate. Needed that.
     
    Sausages
    Job sites are fun things aren't they? Lists of wonderful vacancies paying lots of money if only you had the right skills, experience, and bits of paper to wave at the very fussy employer. I must admit I'm getting very tired of the job application ritual. If one more employer asks me why I want to work for his company, I swear I really will tell him the horrible gritty truth.
     
    But first I need to find that fantastic opportunity. There's a website I use quite a lot now, purely because they feature more vacancies than the others, and every week I trawl through the vacancies in a valiant effort to find one that doesn't require thirty years of experience in the field of sausage making, or Higher National Degrees in Tubular Sausagemeat Containment. You know what I mean.
     
    Today, just to make life intersting, the website decided not to process my applications. Every time I clicked on 'apply' the page merely refreshed itself. Oh sausages....
  7. caldrail

    Going Horribly Wrong

    By caldrail,

    Greece has gone horribly wrong. One expert interviewed on television predicted that Greece was doomed. I must admit, as a casual observer, you do get a sense that Greece is sitting there waiting for the final catastrophic collapse. Not even the barbarian hordes of english holidaymakers seem to be making any difference. Increasingly it looks as if the EU want to dump it by the roadside.
     
    So what exactly do you do with a bankrupt country? Oh yes. I remember now... Cue UN food relief and huge pop superstar events to raise money to feed starving greeks.This empire building stuff isn't always so easy is it?
     
    Still Healthy
    Here in Blighty we like to complain about our health service. That's a little unfair because politicians haven't quite finished constructing it yet. Worse still they also have to deal with ever increasing demands of the sick and injured public who seem hellbent on injuring and infecting each other. There used to be a time when a doctor would call, pronounce the person dead on arrival, and receive the thanks of the poverty stricken family whose loved one did not respond to a jar full of leeches. Not any more.
     
    Thing is our readiness to whinge has made us forget all those horror stories of big bills for treatment offered in American hospitals. That's if you can afford a doctor who won't accidentially poison you of course. Now I find that hospitals in Los Angeles have closed for business all over the place. One site only stays open as a film lot. That means the fire service are providing emergency medical services instead of simply putting fires out. That's if they can find anywhere to send their slightly singed patients.
     
    This news did of course emerge from the sages at Russia Today who take great delight in documentaries showing the collapse of western civilisation. Old habits die hard I guess. Therefore I take pride in announcing that our NHS is safe and secure. I know this because RT haven't even noticed it exists yet.
     
    Recipe Of The Week
    Most of our favourite foods are imports. A wander along the fast food outlets reveals american style burgers and dismembered chickens. Big lumps of dead turkish kebab slowly roasting on a spit. The heady scent of anonymous meat cooking in exotic asian sauces that all taste more or less the same. The impossible task of choosing which permutation if rice is best for you from a chinese takeaway.
     
    Compared to that british cuisine does seem to lack a certain something. Images of cloth caps and smog ridden industrial slums quickly come to mind and compared to the arcane morsels offered by televisions chefs, it's always stodgy and unpalatable. Food for factory workers in other words.. No wonder so many british factories have closed.
     
    So, with no further ado, let me present No3 in my series of fave rave recipes. Peanut Butter Mushrooms On Toast.
     
    Fry chopped mushrooms with a little added soy sauce.
     
    Make two slices of toast.
     
    Spread peanut butter on the toast. If the peanut butter is a little dry, remember to add a touch of olive oil to lubricate it.
     
    Spread the fried mushrooms on the toast and serve.
     
    Enjoy, which I'm sure you will unless you're an allergy sufferer or use mushrooms normally considered the preserve of witches, assassins, and idiots. Supermarket mushrooms are probably safest but cost a little more than a stroll to the local wood.. Mushrooms obtained from dubious looking youths on street corners wil probably result in stange dreams, handcuffs, and stern lectures from important people. So don't blame me when it all goes horribly wrong.
  8. caldrail

    Lots Of Snow

    By caldrail,

    Swindon is suspiciously white this morning. Even winter-safe wiltshire has finally succumbed to snow. It started last night and quickly reduced wiltshire to the usual scene of british ineptitude of dealing with slippery conditions. I watched a van attempting to ascend the steep side street behind my home. Even with a guy shovelling ice from under the wheels they made painfully slow progress toward the company yard.
     
    For me it means another struggle with my sense of balance as the partially cleared snow has become a pavement pockmarked with little icy craters. Place your bets, ladiesa and gentlemen, place your bets...
     
    There's severe weather warnings across Britain. Guess what guys? We know.
  9. caldrail

    Lots Of Noise

    By caldrail,

    wiir wiir wiiir wiiiirrrrrrriiiiiirrrrrr
     
    One of the hassles of living near to a garage is the sound of mechanics working. Normally things are fairly quiet and I don't notice their activities too much, but this morning is was out with the power tools and they got to work on somebodies car with a vengeance.
     
    wiir wiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrr wiiir wiiir
     
    As it happens I'd decided somewhat foolishly to enjoy a lay in. I mean, it was a cold moring and I'd been up late last night. So every time I rolled over and buried my ears in an attempt to snooze a little more, I was brought back to the real world. I had no choice but to grin and bear it I suppose.
     
    It would no use sleeping in the front room either. Firstly it was even colder than my bedroom but also out front the pavements are being dug up in a vain attempt to rectify all the faults the victorians built in to their civic engineering. Lots of white and orange bollards, heaps of dirt, and dayglo gorillas sat drinking tea in-between bouts of destruction with pneumatic drills. It's the british way.
     
    Stop Press - It's My Fault
    It's my own fault! I discovered that a few minutes ago here in the library.
     
    Apparently it serves me right for impersonating a soldier. That was the opinion of a librarian who passed me by. What on earth is she drinking? In what way am I being punished? And what gives these punishers the legal right to exact their sentence upon me?
     
    Sorry lady, but at no time have I ever attempted to claim I was a member of anyones armed forces, though on a few occaisions in the past my military surplus might have given that impression. She might also want to realise that vigilantism is not legal in Britain.
     
    Stupid woman.
  10. caldrail
    My world is very quiet of late, apart from the odd squabble among among my neighbours. About the only event worthy of note is the inspection of the property by my letting agent. They do tell me that they're not overly concerned at my lifestyle or how tidy the place is, but my days as an air cadet still afflict me with an instinctive desire to avoid having to clean the place all over again until I can eat my breakfast off it.
     
    So I had a bit of tidy up. That didn't hurt, did it?
     
    Plans
    The latest plans for Queens Park are posted at the library. Now that the council has disbanded the parks department to save money they might stop ripping all the foliage out of the park. Or will they? Time for me to head down to the display boards and find out what is going on.
     
    More Weather
    There's more warnings of persistent cold weather to come. That's the trouble with february. Almost every year it does this. Just when you think winter is all over and you've gotten away with it, along comes icy blasts from Siberia or the North Pole.
     
    It's supposed to be the coldest day this winter so far but it doesn't feel like that. Certainly not warm but there's none of that sharp coldness that demands long johns and gloves. Now that I've been warned things are getting colder, should I rush out and purchase protective warm clothing? My own attitude is very much that I've suffered far worse in the past and that I can hack it and so on. Then I saw one of those television experts telling us that older people do tend to say that before they die horribly of hypothermia. I've been warned.
     
    Whinge Of The Week
    I see Argentina is whinging to the UN because Britain sent a warship to the Falkland Islands. They say it's 'militarising' the area. I'm sorry, didn't Argentina send an entire army there in 1982 and leave a legacy of minefields all over the islands?
  11. caldrail

    Cold Nights

    By caldrail,

    This was the weekend when the weather finally hit Britain. It did in some places, with Heathrow restricting flights and so on, but as usual Wiltshire got away with it. Most of the snow went elsewhere. All we got in Swindon was a dusting of snow that was practically gone within the course of the next day. Nothing like the siberian conditions that eastern europe have undergone.
     
    There are some extraordinary places in the world. I discovered one yesterday. Shoyna is a russian village inside the arctic circle. You wouldn't think so. Most of the houses are buried in sand drifts. It looks more like the sahara than a coastal tundra region.
     
    As often happens, the enviroment of this fascinating place is man-made. Intense fishing in previous decades ripped up the local sea floor vegetation and loose sand was driven ashore by the tides. Now it drfits with the wind, burying the rickety wooden houses overnight on a regular basis. Residents are wary about being trapped in their homes, not by snow, but sandrifts. You don't get this sort of thing on a David Attenbrough series.
     
    Droids Of The Night
    In the beginning was a man with no girlfriend. God made him that way apparently so I guess being omnipotent isn't quite what it's cracked up to be. Anyway that got sorted - twice, as it turns out. Sometimes though his descendants aren't so lucky. What then? How does a man calm his primal lust?
     
    Well God certainly thought of that one didn't he? However for some us a fun appendage doesn't really cut it. Not suprising then that enterprising women have gone into the worlds oldest business since blokes realised what that fun appendage was actually supposed to be for. Blame Eve. She persuaded Adam to eat that stupid apple in the first place.
     
    You would think those options would solve the problem, but no, sometime later somebody invented the blow-up dummy. I've not used one nor found anyone who admitted that they have, but I'm assured these things do exist. Now scientists are working on female robots as companions for those blokes who need something a little more animated. It's inevitable they tell us.
     
    If nothing else it proves how fecund human beings can be, or more to the point how desperate they can get when fecundity is unavailable to them. My own view is just how incredibly sad it is that people want to build and use artificial companions. Not just because of the admission that they can't get a real girlfriend, but also because they actually want an obedient slave. I mean, science fiction has been warning us for nearly a century about this sort of thing.
     
    Still, look on the bright side. At least scientists are likely to have forgotten to program your friendly robotic lover to remind you endlessly that you should have closed the toilet seat.
     
    Bumps In The Night
    It seems that my own castle is still under siege.. The enemy have made some covert attempts to gain access over the weekend, including the attempted use of a power tool in the small hours. Yep, I heard that one.
  12. caldrail
    So far astronomers have found seven thousand asteroids orbiting close to Earth, of which nine hundred are at least one kilometre in diameter. That's like a mountain floating around up there at tens of thousands of miles an hour. Some of you are probably predicting this is going to be a paragraph or two about the frightening hazards whizzing silently over our heads. Correct. It is.
     
    The worrying thing - and the television documentary deliberately portrayed it in a manner designed to raise hair on the back of your neck - is that smaller asteroids are almost impossible to detect until it's too late, and their destructive power is pretty impressive. The evidence was a recent asteroid that fell in North Africa, prompting very important phone calls to the President and satellite photographs showing an impact point glowing as hot as the sun.
     
    Apparently one particular rock band cancelled a gig in New York because the lead singer was convinced an asteroid was headed there. With a bit of luck he also saw the documentary last night and has done the right thing by deciding not to sing in public any more.
     
    As it happens the solar system has mellowed after its incredibly violent youth when rocks were colliding like rush hour traffic in Mumbai. The known asteroids are in benign orbits that are not going to cause us any concern for at least the next century. Good news for us because insurers can't use astronomcal phenomena as an excuse for raising premiums. Unfortunately for Iran it's very bad news indeed. Partly because divine retribution against Israel appears unlikely, but also because using asteroid deterrence as an excuse for building nuclear warheads is not going to wash.
     
    Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch...
    Talking about imminent disasters the weathermen have downgraded the risk of snow to Defcon 4. You may now sleep safe in your bed,. Even better it means that very important transatlantic phone calls to the President are unnecessary so you can save on your phone bill too.
  13. caldrail
    Nature programs often fail to satisfy. David Attenborough is of course an old hand at it (no pun intended) and knows the score, which is one reason why his programs are worth a glance or two even if he does get a litle messianic occaisionally.
     
    Last night though he was nowhere to be seen. Instead we had a guy from India relating the tale of a tigress released into a nature reserve to repopulate an area cleared by poachers. Like many people I find big cats absolutely irresistible. Powerful, dangerous, charismatic. You just can't help but admire these hunters - it's a feral thing, something deep in our psyche, and the sheer majesty of a tiger moving stealthily through the undergrowth is hard to deny.
     
    Tiger tiger burning bright
    In the shadows of the night
     
    Fascinating details emerge. How they serenade their potential mates with muted roars. How two tigers introduce themselves (carefully) and start dating, seeking the company of another tiger as much as wanting sex. How leopards are rivals for territory and prefer not to mess with the bigger tiger, stealing food very much at their own risk. How tigers eat grass to aid digestion of meat and study the movements of potential prey to figure out where the best ambushes can be laid.
     
    I can see why this indian photographer has such a passion for his subject. Whether the storyline was genuine or cobbled together as nature programs often are, I found myself entranced by this tigress and her struggles with a new enviroment. The lady has class. And big teeth.
     
    Cool For Cats?
    Weather fit for siberian tigers is threatening our merry little island. It's hard to escape the news that eastern europe is having a hard time of it as temperatures plunge to nearly minus thirty degrees centrigrade. It is considerably colder outside today after that clear night. Not quite the siberian conditions of eastern europe that have caused frostbite and hypothermic deaths in tragically large numbers, but it's below zero for the first time this winter here in Blighty. Boy are those weathermen having fun for three minutes on the hour, every hour, as they gleefully plot the freezing of western civilisation.
     
    Cold Spot Of The Week
    The Oasis, Swindon's crumbling leisure centre complete with artificial tropical lagoon for people who have holiday withdrawal symptoms or simply can't handle air travel, is to get a makeover. Better yet, our town will get a snow dome. For the first time, Swindonians will be able to stay cold all year round. Great news.
  14. caldrail
    No... This can't be happening... Three phone calls in the same day. Those of you with social lives might not understand this but communication on this scale is beyond my experience as an older unemployed person. Not only that, but the phone calls were all from an employment agency who've almost ignored me for three years. Normally they email me a rejection the same day I apply for vacancies so imagine my suprise that my existence has finally been recognised.
     
    Not Any More
    For the first time since Antony Blunt was revealed as an artificial soviet rock placed on a London pavement, the Forfeiture Committee have acted. A little belatedly perhaps but then this was a committee decision. Not treachery against the state this time but behaviour unbecoming following our recent financial wobbles.
     
    In the wake of Fred Goodwin's dishonour (his knighthood was 'cancelled and anulled' yesterday) can you imagine what's going through the heads of those communists in the Job Centre who have tried to have me shot at dawn for assuming a title? Right now they'll be muttering darkly, making promises of dire retribution, and trying to figure out how to have me hauled in front of a magistrate. Probably much like they have for the last two years.
     
    Fighters For India
    Oh no, not again... Those pesky frenchmen have persuaded India to buy thier Dassault Rafale (whatever that is) instead of our shiney new Eurofighter Typhoons. I share David Cameron's disappointment on that decision but hey, look on the bright side, if Britain ever chooses to recolonise their former empire at least air superiority will be a little bit easier. Unless of course, those pesky frenchmen have occupied the Taj Mahal and are taunting us about hamsters, elderberries, and gaseouis discharges in our general direction. The secret of their success must be their outrageously silly accent.
     
    Store Of The Week
    I would like to take this iopportunity to congratulate Maplins for their first class customer service. I had a slight problem with a recent purchase and they not only exchanged the goods without complaint or attempt to fob me off, but took the time to prove the replacements worked as expected. Well done that store.
  15. caldrail

    Problems Big And Small

    By caldrail,

    Let's see... According to this instruction manual, this lead plugs into that socxket there... And this other one goes there... and that bit of plastic needs to removed.... Now I just need to switch on and... phuttt!. Huh?
     
    Early yesterday evening I switched the device on and the power went off. Oh great. I checked the lights and none of those worked. I fumbled for a torch and found the batteries had long since gone flat. Nothing electrical in the house worked. Did I do that?
     
    Despite my fears everything sort of checked out. After a stubbed toe and a bruised shoulder I managed to find my mobile phone in the gloom. Please please please work. Yes! Hello? Is that the electric company? I don't seem to have any power at all.
     
    "I see Sir. Where are you?"
     
    At home. In the dark.
     
    "No Sir, I meant whereabouts in England."
     
    Oh right. Swindon.
     
    "Are you anywhere near Arthur Street?"
     
    I don't know an Arthur Street. Could be around here, I dunno, I mean I've only lived here nine years. Am I expected to know every side road in the entire area?
     
    "I see. Are you anywhere near the High Street?"
     
    Not really. That's a quarter of a mile away.
     
    "Not to worry Sir. We're getting reports all over the entire area."
     
    Oh brilliant. Singlehandedly I've plunged North Wiltshire into the middle ages. All with the flick of a switch. But of course it wasn't me, though I note my neighbour seemed strangely amused by the lack of electricity coursing through his ring main. The company said it might be three hours before resumption of service. It took only twenty minutes. Glad to see my money is being well used.
     
    Thieves Of The Week
    This prestigious award has to go to those baboons at the Zimbabwe border. Having plunged his country into economic meltdown, Mugabe's monkeys are now resorting to outright theft with menaces from vehicles, especially those laden with maize. Apparently the guards are getting a bit frustrated because these baboons, being clever little primates as well as violent kleptomaniacs, are accomplished tricksters and have learned how to get into vehicles.
     
    Before long they'll be stealing entire trucks and selling property on e-bay. Or at least they would be if anyone in Zimbabwe still had a computer.
  16. caldrail

    A Matter Of Time

    By caldrail,

    In one of the science magazines lately they devoted an issue to Time. What is it? How much does it cost? What could you do with it if you could afford it? It's a remarkable thing that we experience one moment after another but that causes us to assume we know what time is. So helpless are scientists to explain exactly what Time is that instead of turning to Professor Cox, they're asking philosophers to explain it. Proof therefore that Time is an illusion.
     
    Unfortunately for everyone knowing that Time isn't real doesn't prevent monday mornings from happening on a regular basis. I should know - I've suffered at least fifty in the last year alone. So for those of you who now think that the passage of Time is something you can safely ignore, please be advised that your boss will not accept sensory phenomena as this weeks fun excuse for being late for work. Trust me on that.
     
    That Time OF Year
    The end of january is upon us and with it the inevitable chill of february.As if to confirm that observation the weather typically grey and cold. Not the sharp chill we associate with snow and ice, but that dreary dampness that causes old fogeys like me to complain about how our poor old bones are suffering. You know what I mean. If not, ask your grandad. I'm sure he'll tell you..
     
    Truth is this winter has been remarkably mild. So far we've hardly had a frost at all. Only now are the weathermen beginning to warn us that some areas might see a light snowfall. Certainly not enough to convince the boss that you're being honest about struggling with blizzard conditions. Another little tip there.
     
    About Time Too
    Just this morning on Russia Today is the astonishing revelation that US and Taliban representatives are meeting in Qatar for talks on building trust. A few less IED's might help.
     
    It is however a very interesting development. We all know that the west is tired of the continual sniping and sweeping that wars like that in Afghanistan entail, yey the doggedness of allied presence in the middel east seems to have finally persuaded the Taliban that the only way to get rid of the Great Statn is to persuade it not to hit them anymore.
     
    Not On Time?
    Recently the removal of the Whalebridge roundabout has caused considerable traffic delays for those avoiding the South Swindon Bypass at Wichelstowe. Now I see traffic is avoiding the former Whalebridge site altogether and instead using a rat run through the nearby residential area. Lo and behold there's a long queue of cars every morning in what used to be a quiet street all utterly convinced they're getting around the delays on what is now an empty dual carriageway.
     
    Sheesh. Build a road and no-one wants to use it... What is the world coming to? I must therefore conclude that todays best chances of persuading the boss that you can't make it into work is that your car is currently trapped in a wintery time-space anomaly caused by Taliban insurgents on the Princes Street Carriageway.
  17. caldrail

    A Quiet Day

    By caldrail,

    Looks like this could be a quiet day. Not sure why exactly, though the lack of noise appears to confirm my hypothesis. Only a solitary ring tone interrupted our silent vigil at the library this morning. Everyone turned and looked over their shoulder.
     
    Normally you get a ceratin proportion of people who ignore protocol and good manners in a desperate urge to tell someone else loudly where they happen to be right now. Not today. The embarrased owner of the mobile phone didn't even attempt to whisper a reply. What a refreshing change.
     
    The Lady Who Objects To My Internet Use seems to be the only person doing much right now. The other day she silenced a naughty young child who ignored the parental demand for silence simply by walking up close. It was almost as if she'd reached for the 'off' button. Today she's striding here and there, clearly on a mission, and I notice she made sure to glance over my shoulder to see which website I was accessing.
     
    Except she couldn't because I was typing this in a text editor. Saved by the blog.
     
    Horribly Wrong
    It's all gone horribly wrong for Swindon's roads. Our new junction to replace the Whalebridge Roundabout has caused no end of delays and tailbacks. Just as I predicted. Even better it the news that a new bypass in south Swindon is more or less empty. Nobody uses it. "Please use our bypass" Say concerned councillors.
     
    The problem is that the new bypass links two routes in and out of the town centre. There seems to be this idea that in the rush hour drivers wanting to pass through Swindon centre can now avoid the jams, except that at rush hour everyone wants to access Swindon town centre. If you use this road to escape a traffic jam, you simply find yourself in another at the other end. Which brain cell thought of that one?
     
    I applied for the job of road planner when it came up a couple of years ago. Obviously I didn't get the post, but let's be honest, the chap who got it isn't making a very good impression, is he?
  18. caldrail

    Not Working

    By caldrail,

    Every so often I'm summoned to the programme centre for a job searching session. I don't mind doing that, but the hassle is that their network was set up by a company from Ireland. No, really, it was. So consequently nothing works.
     
    Is the printer working? The young lady hosting the session confirmed that it was. At last! Useful too because I need to print stuff off and I'd rather not have to find a public facility costing me ten pence a sheet. Open the document... Click on 'Print'... Huh?
     
    I knew things were going horribly wrong when the default printer wasn't even a printer. Each and every computer listed on the options did nothing. No-one rushed into the office waving a sheet of paper demanding to know who it belonged to. In other words, the printers didn't work.
     
    Eventually the staff realised we jobseekers were becoming disgruntled or distinctly amused, and set about trying to fix everything the irish IT company had fixed over the previous four days. One chap offered to print everything we sent him by email. He was then forced to find envelopes for us, followed by requests to pop down to the post office and fetch stamps. An administrators lot is not a happy one.
     
    One person wondered aloud why nothing worked. I announced that the whole thing was a complete eff up, all the while unaware that a senior member of programme centre staff was sweating his sorry little shirt off trying to get a printer connected and working. Ooops.
     
    Year Of The Dragon
    It's soon going to be the chinese new year and completely breaking my new years resolution to stumble through it unaware of astrological warnings, here's my chinese horoscope...
     
    It will take longer for long term aims to come about but persevere. Although you prefer to stick with definite ideas and arrangements it would be better to keep plans flexible in 2012. Unexpected changes can cause problems and these will seem more difficult to resolve if you aren't willing to bend. You will be prepared to do whatever is necessary to make money from your job prospects even if it means working longer hours or taking on new commitments. Friends are helpful.
     
    Longer? Good grief I've been unemployed for three years. I've been working toward ferrari ownership for more like thirty. How much longer is this going to take? The ferrari salesman is going to have to help me across the forecourt and find enough room in the boot for a zimmer frame. "Now this is a very fast car Lord Caldrail.. You can see without glasses?... Do please be careful... BRAAAAAAKE!"
     
    What worries me is this idea that I'll be prepared to anything to earn a living. Worker required. Must have own sleeping bag.
  19. caldrail

    Failure To Communicate

    By caldrail,

    Cold. Wet. Dull.
     
    Welcome to a very average Tuesday in Swindon. I'd like to say more but there's only so many times you describe the realities of the rainforests of Darkest Wiltshire.
     
    The highlight of the last twenty four hours was bumping into the boss of the museum as I dragged my weekly shopping home. We had a nice little chinwag, mostly about recruitment agencies, and we're both agreed that agencies are the curse of western civilisation.
     
    As it happens one of my recent job applications was for a personnel department administrative post. Manufacturing experience required? Why? I clicked on 'apply' anyway. So I got a reply saying that the employer required manufacturing experience.
     
    Yeah? And? I sent a reply pointing out that I had such experience. I received an answer that said my experience was in distribution, not manufacturing. So I was part of the Honda parts supply chain for nothing? Quality control, material allocation, and liaison with shop floor assemblers? Correct me if I'm wrong but that does constitute manufacturing experience.
     
    Not according to the agency minion who categoricvally stated that her twenty five years experience in preventing people from getting a job entitles her to interpret my CV in completely the wrong way. Madam, I don't care how long you've been making phone calls, you're an idiot.
     
    Radiation Flare
    I wondered what all this stuff about the Aurora Borealis on the news was about. Apparently our planet has suffered a terrible solar flare and communications were disrupted by angry radioactive particles seeking to be brought before our leader. I think one or two hit a certain job agency.
  20. caldrail

    From The Top

    By caldrail,

    Top Gear USA? You gotta be kiddin', right? Out of curiosity I watched a few episodes. As part of a franchise there were aspects I found familiar. The stage set, the theme tune, the general format of the show, and having some celebrity race a cheap car around a track. All well and good. But of course this was an american show and so I was struck by cultural differences.
     
    Firstly the presenters, who despite their obvious enthusiasm for wrecking telegraph poles, abandoned houses, pulling trains, and generally driving huge pickup trucks where no pickup truck driver was ever meant to go, came across as incredibly bland. Not entirely characterless but there was nothing about them that said 'television personality'. Mind you, they were driving huge pickup trucks.
     
    Then they got around to the Rally Fighter, a sort of cross country muscle car, which was an extraordinary vehicle designed for the headcase to go where-ever he wanted faster than anyone else. Not only that, but I can confirm that the presenter driving the thing tackled a sharp bend. Cornering skills? In America? It seems the Top Gear franchise is changing civilisation as we know it.
     
    Money Walks, Bullstuff Talks
    Of all the stupid things a british politician could have said, it had to be that reducing or capping benefit payments doesn't cause any misery. No, he said confidently, it's unemployment that causes misery.
     
    What planet does that idiot come from? With people losing their homes because they don't receive the miminal assistance any more? Unemployment you can get used to. Constant price rises and threats from politicians to reduce your means is something else. I challenge him to spend three years as an unemployed person and find out for himself just how important money can get.
     
    Think about it. No chauffeurs, gleaming limousines, haute cuisine, big homes in upmarket parts of London, or even all those fair weather friends that surround a fat wallet. Not because you're unemployed sunshine - it's because you won't be able to afford it.
  21. caldrail

    Secret Mission

    By caldrail,

    Friday morning and a chance to nip down to the local library and do my internetting for a couple of hours. The onlydrawback to friday morning is that the Lady Who Objects To My Internet Use is often on duty then.
     
    Deliberately I stroll in after the doors are open to avoid attention. Up the stairs... Oh no. She's there, at the helpdesk. For some reason she thinks I'm up to no good. No idea why, but as you can imagine, having her stare at me all the time and glance over my shoulder on the off chance I'm doing something arrestable gets a bit tiresome.
     
    She's looking the other way! That means I can dash across to one of the computoers hidden behind the bookshelves and hopefully she won't notice I'm here. Libraruians do move around sometimes but that's an occupational hazard of accessing the internet here.
     
    Darn it.... She picks up the phone and.... "Yes, he's here... In the last five minutes... No he's looking the other way...."
     
    Mission compromised chaps. Looks like train related sites are very dangerous to look at this morning. No, I'm going to risk it.
     
    Suspicion Rocks
    Well whaddaya know? The Cold War isn't quite over just yet. Apparently six years ago the FSB, the successor to the ubiquitous KGB, our russian intelligence adversary since Stalin thought we were going to invade the Soviet Union, spotted a suspicious rock which turns out to be a sort of data gathering device.
     
    Clever stuff. The spy saunters by, looks around to see if no-one is looking, takes an innocent pee up the nearest tree if they are, then downloads his ill gotten info and wanders off. The rock is retrieved later and the info beamed to M at MI6 so James Bond 007 can be shaken but not stirred one more time.
     
    I wonder iif I could adapt that idea for browsing at the library? Now there's a thought. Trouble is She Who Objects To My Internet Use would probably suss out why I pee against a bookshelf every time she glances in my direction. This is not going to go well, is it?
  22. caldrail

    Unwelcome Guests

    By caldrail,

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

    What Am I Looking For?

    By caldrail,

    For no apparent reason I came over all philosophical last night. The big question however was not life, the universe, & everything. Professor Brian Cox has cornered that market. Instead I had humbler questions to ask of myself. Like what is it that I look forward too?
     
    Before anyone thinks I was getting depressed and feeling sorry for myself, that really isn't the case, so all you missionaries out there trying to make me believe I'm cursed, haunted, almost an alcoholic, or nearly a drug addict are wasting your time. I don't listen to wierdo's, messages from Jesus, or the occaisional taunt from idiots who think I listen.. Glad we got that settled. But I digress. The question!
     
    Some years ago I was chatting to GH, a work colleague, and as is probably inevitable with me the subject got around to ferrari's. I don't remember what I said exactly, but GH replied "Never mind - you can always dream."
     
    Well... Yes... I supose so, but dreaming doesn't make things happen. It was almost as if he was trying to persuade me not to strive for success and I'd always put that down to his desire to be important in the office. He was grooming me to come second. After all, his ability to achieve results by sitting down with a cup of coffee all day had less to do with talent and hard work than some naughty editing of the computer files. He actually thought I was going to listen to him and stop working at a pace that suited me.
     
    Admittedly the ownership of a gleaming red supercar is somewhat ambitious given my circumstances. In actual fact that isn't my immediate objective anyway. My world, as an unemployed dole claimant, is too small for those lofty fantasies even if the locals could be persuaded not to dismantle it during the night.
     
    The government want me to view finding that job as my goal in life. That's understandable if somewhat patronising and shortsighted. The Job Centre want me to view conformity as my goal in life. They see that as a necessary qualification for employment. I see conformity as an impediment to it. I mean, with twenty people chasing each vacancy, being the same as everyone else isn't going to make an impression is it?
     
    Last night I realised just how short term my objectives were becoming. A dream is only worthwhile if there's some hope of it becoming reality. Plans for the future are only worthwhile if you have a future to plan for. I've gotten used to the slow crawl of existing on the dole. Now it seems the only inevitability is that tomorrow is another day. I wonder what I'll do tomorrow? Pie & chips? Or a chicken burger down the road?
     
    Decisions, decsions....
     
    Decisions, Decisions...
    Sometimes I have no choice but to put my fingers in my wallet and fork out cash for something I'd rather not have to buy. That happened this morning. With a need to purchase another surge protector I poppped down to PC World and stood aghast at the emptiness of the large premises. A decade ago this shop was filled with goodies like an technological aladdins cave, gizmo's to delight the senses, and plastic boxes in every colour of the rainbow. Not any more. There's barely anything to choose from. Want a surge protector Sir? We sell that one...
     
    Groan. Oh well. As it happened there was a choice of three that suited my purposes and naturally i chose the cheapest. Imagine my suprise then when the girl at the till announced it was going to cost me almost twice as much. You what? But fear not. All was settled asmicably and I got the product for the price I believed it to be. Seriously though - PC World aren't doing themselves any favours by such a withdrawal of range. What's the point of walking all the way down there when I could have picked up a similar product closer to home? Choice matters.
  24. caldrail

    Caring & Sharing

    By caldrail,

    There was a change in the air after my traumatic visit to the job centre. The library was way emptier than usual, clearly indicating most of the regulars had frozen to death overnight. I was almost pleased to see Mr Fidget arrive. He began his daily ritual of slapping pockets and searching bags before he even sat down, with a whiole morning of uninterrupted fidgeting to look forward too.
     
    Even the Lady Who Hisses At Me was in a friendly mood. She is now officially the Lady Who Whispers Objections To My Internet Use. But there's somebody missing. Among the casualties of our freezing weather was....
     
    Nope. I was wrong. BFL had indeed survived the night and instead of bringing a sense of order and direction to everyones lives at the library, had decided to colonise the supermarket where I encountered her a couple of hours later. I think that's the first time I've ever seen her there, which is a bit worrying because someone might blame me for having led her there in the first place.
     
    Sure enough the till queue ground to a halt as BFL was served. Nothing to do but wait until the supermarket staff have been browbeaten into surrender then.
     
    Favourite Spot
    "This is my favourite computer" Mentioned a lady as she waited for the assistant to log her on with the job club PC's. She's right. We all have favourite computers. I joked about them being reserved individually. How we would throw a tantrum if someone else nipped in ahead of us. Joking aside, we do tend to be creatures of habit. Therefore today I have broken with tradition and increased the number of applications I've made by a third.
     
    Someone, somewhere, is probably cursing my name right now. Yes, I have applied for that vacancy once before. Serves you right for advertising it again.
     
    Shared Homes
    Big on the local newsletter is the issue of shared homes. Apparently some home owners and landlords are attempting to cash in on the high cost of property by sub-dividing their property into smaller and smaler units. By now it's probably possible to rent a toilet cubicle at sensible low low rates. Worse still these pesky landlords have discovered a loophole in planning regulations which means they can effectively expand the size of their properties by making new homes out of them.
     
    I can see why the local councillors are up in arms. Before long there's going to be skyscraping towers of brick tenement with staircases requiring oxygen masks. Even that new house across the alleyway has finally been completed in a mad rush after laying there disguised as a ruin for several years.
     
    "We've got enough shared houses!" The complainers say. I agree. After all, the rotten scoundrel who's been pilfering my goods hasn't paid a penny in rent.
  25. caldrail

    Not A Good Start

    By caldrail,

    Now this is more like winter. A sharp frosty morning, gloves required, my trainers crunching on thin ice and feeling very insecure. As if it wasn't cold enough inside, at the job centre was Big R himself. Yes, Big R, the yorkshire brawler who gave me the benefit of his opinions somewhat strongly not that long ago.
     
    Try as hard as I might, I could not help snarling inside. There's something feral about human beings, or at least the male half of them, that doesn't sit easily with humiliation and scorn. On the face of it I might seem a bit childish but I could not hand my paperwork to him first. Instinct, you see. he blew my respect away and no matter how sharp his suit, to me he will always be a pompous scumbag.
     
    What was that he just just called me? Mate? Who's he trying to kid?
     
    Saturday
    What happened to Saturday morning? Something is definitely wrong with Saturdays. I know this because I innocently turned on the television for something to occupy my attention while I got on with boring stuff. As a rule Iwouldn't normally bother with television at that time of the day and I think the world has changed since I last bothered. I remember Tom & Jerry cartoons, the Pink Panther Show, low budget family films, and lots of presenters coping badly with exotic animals.
     
    None of that happened. Adverts for dating websites? On every channel there were queues of semi-famous ladies telling us how to make your face to look like Hollywood intended, rather than the hideous reality your magic mirror reveals at dawn. What is going on? Why has the world changed like this? Why is saturday morning devoted to cosmetics? I have to say I have pretty much zero interest in cosmetics. There are products intended for the unfairer sex so I'm told. Body sprays? Fragrance for men? Ugh. I don't think so.
     
    After being fooled by aftershave adverts in the seventies (Remember Hai-Karate and the terrified user fleeing from hordes of aroused nymphomaniacs?. Trust me on this - that does not happen), I don't think smelling like a flower bed is going to improve my chances of being chased by hundreds of blonde female television extras.
     
    Sunday
    Sunday rescued my little world. One tv channel showed back to back episodes of Fred Dibnah, the high priest of cloth cap engineering from a bygone age. Time to sit down and be dazzled as plump Fred in his blue boiler suit invited us into his natural enviroment of the railway siding.
     
    Fred - This 'ere is a Nigel two six four wi'double flange frame 'n shovel injected firebox. Ah used to dream o' driving these when I wur young. Used t'see 'em running past me dad's coal shed. This one 'ere is restored t' workin' order. It wur made just as steam finished on British Railways, so it's almost new, this. With a bit o'luck, driver will let me on footplate... Allo thur.... Can ah come up?
     
    Driver - Like you arranged previously, you mean?
     
    Fred - Ahhh yes. Nice this, int it? Bit more complex than steam engine at 'ome. You get a fine idea o'what it wur like in olden days, steaming down track. Can we give it a go?
     
    Driver - Hang on - I wasn't told that we were....
     
    Fred - Reverser... Regulator... Mind owt thur... Brakes off.... (WOOOOOH!... Woooh WOOOH! pffffshhhh clank chuff chuff chuff). Heh heh heh... Sorry 'bout that. Bit jerky on take off int it?
     
    Driver - Ten miles an hour along here Fed.
     
    Fred - Eh? Oh aye. Picks up speed nicely, dunt it? Ah remember good old days when trains like these wur all the rage.
     
    Driver - Mind the speed Fred. We're approaching the buffer stops.
     
    Fred - Nice smooth ride this. Must have been a thrill back when these engines ran on British Rail main lines, 'cos back then see engine drivers had no cab for protection.
     
    Driver - Fred, you want to start slowing down!
     
    Fred - Exposed to elements they were....
     
    Driver - FRED! BRAAAAAAKE!
     
    Fred - Oh aye... That'll be that lever thur... (Clunk Squeeeeeeeeeeal hisssss). There we go. Enjoyed that ah did... You all right thur? Gone all pale like... Grand engine.is this.
     
    Bless the old chap, he's no longer with us, but what that man could do with a nine and five sixteenths wrench, a box of dynamite, and a few lumps of coal demonsrates how the British Empire was forged and ultimately rusted away. Singlehanded he almost made brass bands fashionable. Sadly missed.
     
    Stargazing - Live!
    A program devoted to standing out in the freezing cold staring up at the night sky? I nearly fell off my seat laughing. Surely if you want to stargaze you switch the tellly off and walk outside? Still, at least couch potatoes can now study the heavens too.
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