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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  1. caldrail

    Cars Are Women

    By caldrail,

    I've decided cars are female. They just are. most are frumps unfortunately. Some are reliable, others not. Some have interesting personalities, many simply don't talk to you or keep on nagging because you left the bootlid up.
     
    Then there's cars like Ferrari. Curvaceous redheads with tight leather, vivacious, demanding. You just know she's going to be trouble but you can't help yourself.
     
    I say this because going through some old papers I discovered my report from a racing school where I drove F355's at Thruxton circuit. Now that takes me back. It was the first time I'd driven a real Ferrari. I was expecting it to be a real beast, twice the power of anything I'd driven previously, and my brain was telling me to take care.
     
    You might not be suprised, but the tasty redhead won my heart in the first ten seconds. She beguiled me with all her italian charms. She was doing strange things to my anatomy, but luckily the lady owner who instructed us plebs in the driving of cars that cost more than my home had seen it all before.
     
    You see, german cars are a bit cold. Very good, but like female scientists with whips. "You vill take zat bend faster Caldrail *crack*". You come to a bend and you wonder 'Can I go round it a little quicker?'. To your delight, you can. Then the same thing happens again, up until the point you realise you really have exceeded what the laws of physics allow. Ooops... Close your eyes Caldrail...
     
    But Ferrari? She snorts in disdain at your sensible driving and starts stroking your ego. "Go on Caldrail-a, I want-a to see you drive-a!". The woman was insatiable. And I didn't mind in the slightest. As it turned out, she was a pussy cat. She handled almost the same as my long-serving Toyota MR2 (albeit considerably faster). There was that momentthe instructor told me to go for it, to drive a hot lap. I floored the accelerator and the car went light, lifting on its wheels and sudden;y this well mannered and sophisticated lady was lap dancing in front of me in a wild frenzy... *dribble*
     
    That was a fun day. Thing was though, I went back to work the following day and a workmate approached me. "So you need to take a day off to get a haircut do you?" He asked me with obvious contempt.
     
    "No." I answered, "I take a day off to go flying in the morning and drive Ferrari's on a race track in the afternoon".
     
    "Oh." He said, "Your day was better than mine."
     
    Yep.
     
    Conundrum of the Week
    Ferrari's are red, fast, powerful icons of motoring. Symbols of excess, tempting you to break speed limits, behave like arrogant playboys, and earn more money than you could possibly spend. Cars that evoke passion, cars that make you choose between them and your partner, cars that change you from ordinary caring sharing Joe Bloggs to greedy, demanding, sexually jaded Schumacher Junior.
     
    So why did the Pope bless Ferrari?
  2. caldrail

    Cash Giveaways

    By caldrail,

    I was browsing the news on the web when I stumbled on a story about an asian couple who ran a petrol station in Rotorua, New Zealand. Apparently Westpac Bank had deposited ten million NZ Dollars into their bank account by accident. The couple are now on the run and some of the money has been recovered.
     
    A few times there's been stories of ATM's going haywire and spewing out money like no tomorrow. I remember one news story going back a few years where people were queueing up to fill their pockets at a Hole In The Wall.
     
    It seems banks like handing out money. If their machines don't give it away by accident, their employees will. But there's other examples of financial silliness. Once again we return to New Zealand (by coincidence) where a three year old toddler bought a large earth mover/digger on an online auction at the low low price of
  3. caldrail
    Back in my sadly deluded childhood I used to read books. No really. In one of them, there was an account of the life of Jesse James, or more pointedly, the end of it. Now Jesse wasn't a Scottish homosexual as you might expect, but an American unemployed irregular soldier who took up banditry to pay the bills in the 19th century. Stranger than that, he became famous for being shot dead from behind by one of his mates.
     
    Anyway, yesterday I saw a tv film about the man, and in typical modern Hollywood style he was depicted as a pretty boy hero, a martial arts expert, turning into a stuntman periodically n an effort to wreak vengeance on the dastardly railroad baron.
     
    Its that birth of a legend. Robin Hood made the same transformation. We know him as the dispossessed Earl of Locksley, defender of the downtrodden Saxons against their Norman overlords, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. So why did Errol Flynn burst into wealthy Nottingham Castle and hand back the stag he'd just illegally killed? Maybe things were different in the days of Black & White.
     
    That happens to be my point. Look how these people change. They start as social undesirables, and end up becoming noble heroes that fight for the right to give movie stars two years work.
     
    It's occured to me that as a social undesirable that won't conform, I stand a great chance of being remembered as a famous hero in two or three centuries.... Caldrail Hoody - The hero that claimed from the state and gave to the shops....
     
    Switch Off of the Week
    On the news I saw something about the Great Switch Off. Everyones supposed to turn their lights off to demonstrate they want action on global warming. Apparently this started two years ago in Sydney and no-one's found the on-switch since. This does mean of course that since the climate change brigade can't see anything in front of their face, they're not going to able to change anything whatsoever. After all, is it not true that ideas come with light bulbs?
     
  4. caldrail

    Casting Votes

    By caldrail,

    The news is full of our local elections. It seems the media has smelled blood, and have joyfully reported the embarrasement of our prime minister. The headlines are coming thick and fast as Labour returns its worst result for forty years. Gordon Brown of course says his party needs to listen and then they can move forward. Listen by all means GB, but people are starting to vote with their... erm... vote.
     
    In Zimbabwe Mugabe has lost the vote, but not the war. After twenty eight years in power, he retained enough votes to call for a rerun of the election. And I suspect he'll keep on until everyone votes him back in whether they have a gun pointed at them or not.
     
    Thankfully, Ken Livingstone is not so determined to continue as Lord Mayor of London and it seems Boris Johnson, the colourful character for whom no public cock-up is too embarrasing, will walk away with the title. Its about time. At least BJ knows he's a comedian.
     
    Traffic Diversion Of the Week
    On saturday night traffic on the M4 motorway (the main highway west from London to Wales) will be diverted through Swindon town center. Well... I know the local authorities want more visitors to our fair town, but doesn't diverting traffic seem a bit desperate? So tonight Swindon town center will be full of irate and confused drivers trying to negotiate our road junctions in a vain bid to find the right exit back to the motorway. At least the Man Who Headbutts Cars will be busy....
     
    Celebrity Update of the Week
    Melinda Messenger, our very own local blonde bombshell, is to split with hubby Wayne Roberts. Wow. Where else can you get news like this, hard hitting stories about people that matter?... Huh?... What do you mean you've never heard of her?.... She's a celebrity for crying out loud, and for those who genuinely want to show sympathy for her, her entire range of paper towels is now available by mail order...
  5. caldrail
    As many of you might know, this last weekend was the time of year when we put the clocks forward one year, a ritual designed for no apparent reason other than statistics. Getting out of bed an hour earlier wasn't too difficult considering my downstairs neighbours had left their central heating on and whilst that wasn't apparent at first, by the early hours I was gasping for breath in that humid heat.
     
    Time to go to work. The weather has turned rainy and I'm informed that snow might hit parts of Britain later in the week, which is almost bound to be elsewhere so I won't worry about that...
     
    7:25 AM
    J opened the doors and allowed me in with the usual exchange of pleasantries and jokes. "What? No KS?" he observed. Doesn't look like it.
     
    8:00 AM
    Big discussion about KS. Is he late? Has he forgotten to put his alarm clock an hour forward? The consensus is that we weren't going to tell him he was late. It might hurt his feelings with all of us rolling around the floor clutching ribs.
     
    8:35 AM
    No KS. What the..? Has he put his clock the wrong way? Will he arrive two hours late? The general consensus was that an hour late was funny, but two hours late demanded no mercy.
     
    09:10 AM
    Miss L loudly demands that J leave her alone because she 'doesn't want any more fingerprints on her donkey'
     
    9:35 AM
    Still no KS. Oh dear... If he turns up now, he will be lambasted to the point of tantrum.
     
    13:00 PM
    It's official, he phoned in sick. That's one more day than his placement allowance so he is also offically in trouble. Did we laugh? Mrs T called him a 'lazy piece of turf'.
     
    14:05 PM
    "Hiyah" Said a woman passing me on the high street. Who on earth is she? She merely shrugged and carried on her way shaking her head. For the life of me I haven't a clue who she was. Former girlfriend? Not with that woolly hat. Former fan of my musical past? No, she didn't ask for an autograph. Well, for now this chance meeting will remain a mystery. Perhaps the shoe that occaisionally gets left outside my home will fit her? heck - I hope not.
     
    14:10 PM
    It's official, I've been declared well and truly ill. A fever is taking hold and I'm writing this piece bleary eyed and breathless, coughing every so often to confirm I still live... Too ill to type any more.... Brain functions at 33% and falling... Core temperature rising... Imminent meltdown expected.... Cough.
  6. caldrail
    I notice the control unit for Evil Robot was missing from the customer services desk at the museum. Well, although I've got better things to do than remove his restraining bolt, if he fires up I've got no way to bring him under control. Luckily this was the quiet shift so the risk to the general public was minimal. Personally I was more in danger of dropping dead from boredom.
     
    We had a visit from none other than DW, our intrepid online journalist. It's always good to hear from him because you discover who's who in the local area. There's a Top Gear photographer who knows our boss. We have a lady from the BBC who runs that large screen televison mounted on the side of a car park in Wharf Green. She'd strolled past the museum on her way to an important meeting and DW spotted her. He called her up on his mobile immediately for that all important chat.
     
    He is a chatty fellow as it happens. Apparently he's been the victim of a slur campaign from disgruntled critics whose sour posts on his news site got deleted. The outraged idiots have been making fools of themselves trying to mount some sort of hate campaign against him. They invited the world to sign up to protest and act against DW's censorship. All nine of them.
     
    After that I witnessed an extraordinary re-enactment of his last intercourse with his admittedly gorgeous girlfriend. It was my own fault. When he started bragging about great sex I asked him if he could remember where his left hand was.
     
    Mr J's New Coffee table
    Our dance fanatic and all round organiser Mr J made a suprise visit. He's been a bit scarce just of late with his dance activites, but I guess now that a couple of night clubs are closing in the town, he's running out of venues to strut his stuff.
     
    Not to worry. Now that he plans to spend more time at home he's invested in furniture. For the princely sum of
  7. caldrail

    Cats And Needles

    By caldrail,

    Today I got stabbed. The nurse pulled a huge metal needle from her bag of tricks and annoucned she was going to. I know the needle is actually a tiny little prod, but looking at the end of it wavering close by, it looks like one end of the Channel Tunnel. And she's going to push that into my arm? Yes, she is.
     
    The happy ending is that I've survived my close encounter with the medical profession. It's interesting that the subject of health care is a big issue in Britain (again) as our coalition government tackle reform in the NHS.
     
    They say they want a fitter, leaner, more efficient NHS. So has every politician seeking votes over the last five decades. Okay, I know we all see horror stories about anti-social behaviour in hospitals and the mistakes, if not outright evil deeds, that a minority of medical staff commit, but my own experience is that the profession does a pretty good job overall.
     
    Having said that, my experience is limited, because I don't fuss and demand treatment or bleat on about rights. A few aches and pains are just part of life as far as I'm concerned, and it's only recently I've decided my condition warrants a closer look at. So does the doctor apparently, since I now have to book a hospital appointment.
     
    Unfortunately the old crumbling hospital was closed years ago, and a new one built on the edge of the known universe, five or six miles away in the countryside. Maybe I'm being fussy, but was that really an efficient place to build a hospital?
     
    Cats In The Wilds OF England
    For most of my life I've seen occaisional reports of big cats living wild in England. Someone spots the shy animal and it gets into the papers. Usually the culprits were reckoned to be owners of exotic pets, who released their animals into the wild either because dangerous animal legislation in recent years made them illegal, or because they just couldn't afford the food bill.
     
    That's not actually right. Usually the culprit was an excess of alcohol and poor perceptual skills, so like UFO's and other wierd phenomena, it all gets written off as a hoax.
     
    Not any more. At long last a former policeman has spotted one. I mean, policemen are never wrong, are they? Personally, as much as I admire big cats and their ability in television adverts to make us buy a staid ordinary car, I have no desire to bump into one on one my hikes into the countryside. Luckily the big cats seem equally intent on avoiding me.
  8. caldrail

    Catwalking

    By caldrail,

    Even as late as last night the weather map on television was not encouraging. Great swathes of bright blue covered southern england and that means rain. Wet weather is a fact of life in Britain. British tradition is to start conversations with strangers about the weather. Our country is famous for getting wet. I'm not quite that famous, but I do get wet now and then myself.
     
    The promised downpoor has already passed us by. It's still damp and grey out there, but most people are plodding around in tee-shirts and shorts, typical summer wear. Big C plods into the library foyer wearing his standard rubber flip-flops.
     
    Actually, that's not entirely true. The older people are draping raincoats over the chairs as they sit down for their computer session on a library computer. Experience you see. They've had years of getting caught out by british weather just as much as me. it's the youngsters who generally brave a drenchuing by refusing to wimp out with proper protective clothing.
     
    perhaps they have good reason. The fashion police have taken to drinking at a pub just along the road, a converted ex-cinema with street-side seating which has become popular in Britain lately, in clear violation of every ounce of commonsense when dealing with the British weather. Anyhow, these people do like commenting on passers-by. Sadly I don't score very highly in their estimations and thus run the gauntlet of a drubbing as I stroll by.
     
    Funnily enough I don't drink there. Once you get judged on what what you wear rather than what you do, it's time to move on. Sadly this also includes many employers whose younger managers deem office fashion as the defining factor for success. That means I don't have enough money to socialise with the fashion dummies of the pub down the road. Not that it matters.
     
    Laugh Now!
    So much of our culture has become judgemental. We have programs like Big Brother where idiots are voted out of the house if they don't amuse the public sufficiently. Programs like X Factor try to sift through the ranks of the talentless for that next big break, but actually getting there is diminished by the opportunity to judge the ham-fisted numpties and don't we all enjoy their tantrums when their efforts are slighted? Then there's endless programs showing members of the public falling over, bumping into things, or watching helpless while an ordinary day collapses around their ears. Someone has an accident and we're being taught that this is funny?
     
    Listen Now!
    Most of the news is concerned with the advance of rebels in Libya and the possible overthrow of Colonel Gaddafi. I must admit, the rantings of that female newsreader in Tripoli as she waved her pistol around and threatened to shoot anyone who came into her studio made me laugh. I'm sure she was serious, but realistically, how long was that hissy fit going to keep rebels armed with automatic rifles at bay?
     
    She is, I 'm afraid, in danger of becoming unfashionable.
  9. caldrail

    Change Of Socks

    By caldrail,

    There comes a time in every mans life when he realises that his socks are no longer socially acceptable. The woollen rags I usually depend on have reached such a state of disintegration that they can no longer be formally identified as footwear. Excuse me a minute. I may need to spend some money and that requires me to psyche up for a terrifying ordeal. Opening my wallet is not for the faint-hearted.
     
    Return To Your Homes. Nothing To See Here
    Okay, you can all relax. My wallet is open and I survived the trauma with only several bruises and a strange twitch of my facial muscles.
     
    A Not So Funny Thing Happened On The Way...
    With a fine day to enjoy I set out for the shop of choice where I knew unfashionable socks that express my desire for breaking social convention could be found. Approaching the big twin roundabout that straddles the the Great Western main line, I could see long lines of slow moving traffic. That's odd. Surely the planners haven't messed up that badly? Traffic normally flows smoother than that. I guess there must be some sort of hold-up.
     
    And there was. With hordes of police on the scene, an overturned refuse lorry was blocking the larger roundabout the other side of the line. A mobile crane was setting the crashed vehicle to rights while traffic was diverted around it in all sorts of directions.
     
    Passing the scene I asked an onlooker what was going on. Apparently a car had cut across in front of the lorry whose driver took avoiding action, and with the roundabout built on sloping ground to begin with, the thing had turned over. Luckily no-one was seriously hurt but I suspect the car driver isn't feeling too comfortable right now.
     
    Sock Update
    Okay, you can all relax again. Replacement socks were purchased without any needless embarrasement. I even managed to walk past the police at the accident scene without being arrested for carrying them in public.
     
    Job Vacancy Of The Week
    There's a jobsite on the internet that I subscribed to some time ago. Almost every day they send me lists of vacancies that are supposed to fit my chosen criteria. The majority are never that close to home. There comes a point where walking to work becomes a serious expedition across the Wiltshire rainforest, so I generally don't worry about those.
     
    A couple of days ago the list included more vacancies than usual. A bunch of army jobs dealing with logistics in various places beyond the horizon. They even apologised and politely reminded the reader that they may require the applicant to travel abroad. Oh? Really? Are we finally invading Spain after decades of reconnaisance missions?
     
    Actually they do a good deal with plenty of opportunities to achieve qualifications up to and including a degree in logistics. Not bad for a few years of getting shouted at. For me though that would mean losing my home and in all likelihood everything I own. In that light, the deal sort of goes sour. So I didn't bother looking any further.
     
    I got an email yesterday. The army wants me. Personally. Shucks, guys, I'm honoured, but do you know I'm over forty years of age? Oh let's be honest. I'm nearer fifty. If the drill sergeant tells me to give him twenty push-ups, I'll probably die of old age. Worst still, I'd have to make sure my socks were clean. I think I've suffered enough trauma for now.
  10. caldrail

    Changes

    By caldrail,

    We've had the warmest January ever apparently, despite the persistent siberian snow falls. Is it just me me, or is this global warming thing a complete fabrication?
     
    The religious mania surrounding ecological issues these days is getting a bit tiresome. Do people actually believe they can 'save the planet' by obeying the worlds governments and not doing anything? 'Save the Government finances' more like. The increasing number of citizens and their use of energy is forcing countries to build expensive power generating stations. I can see a coincidence here, as Britain, one of the keen members of the eco-lobby, is trying to avoid paying billions to replace old power stations by telling us not to use them. We can't really afford them after paying for all our politicians to spout hot air.
     
    But surely CO2 is a greenhouse gas? Yes. It is. A minor one compared to some others and a gas that has formed part of the natural cycle of this planet since... Well... Ages ago. And I notice that the amount of CO2 in previous ages was way way way higher than anything we've produced.
     
    Surely all that CO2 pumped into the atmosphere is causing all manner of woes? Like what? It's still snowing in Britain, people! That terrible earthquake in Chile a day or two ago probably released more CO2 than the worlds supply of Dodge Vipers combined.
     
    Surely we're to blame? No, not entirely. Any species damages its enviroment to some degree. Remember the 'Rabbit and Fox' graphs you used to study at school? Take for instance the starving populations of northeast Africa. The humane thing is to feed them, to save them from all that suffering, and to some extent I cannot deny them that assistance. The reality is of course that if they're fed, they have sex and produce more mouths to feed. So all you've done is create a bigger problem for the next generation by being kind.
     
    I've said this many times before, but the worlds climate changes all the time, usually in small increments but as we see from the geological history of our planet, it does get a bit extreme sometimes. Evidence suggests that twice our planet virtually froze over. Not a few paltry ice ages like the ones we've had over the past million years, but full on global freeze overs,
     
    The resulting thaw from these two 'Snowball Earths' produced the perfect enviroment for life to emerge - Warm, shallow seas - and it did, twice, something I note the bible doesn't mention - I guess God didn't put everything in that Tree of Knowledge of his, or was Adam supposed to eat the lot? Hang on... What's the point of forbidding people to eat a knowledge enhancing apple if you plant an orchard of the blessed things in your garden? And God got upset? No good blaming us, mate, you made us what we are.
     
    The whole point is that we forget that we're just another species on this planet. We use what we find and when things are bountiful, create more of us to enjoy it. The problem with modern society isn't gas guzzling V8's, endless cups of tea, or turning up the central heating in winter, it's how many of us there are. Because all of us want to use resources like foxes chomping through rabbits. So the rabbits are running out? Oh dear... Have we eaten too many? Quick... Blame knives and forks and tell people to use them less...
     
    Debating Government Change
    With a possible (and indeed, constitutionally required) election looming in Britain, the Conservative Party are using a slogan that it's time for change. Gordon Brown has issued a rebuttal, saying it's more important to focus on 'what matters' and that the Tories would short-change families. What? And he hasn't? What matters to Gordon Brown is staying in power and avoiding an election. What matters to me is how much tax I have to pay to keep him there.
     
    Conspiracy of the Week
    I've just learned that the Ministry of Defence is destroying all new reports of UFO's. Their stated reason is to avoid releasing such data via the Freedom of Information Act. Wow! What a conspiracy! Britains defenses are run by the Men In Black!
     
    Hey - I saw the movie, okay?
  11. caldrail

    Changes For The Worse

    By caldrail,

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

    Changing Fortunes

    By caldrail,

    How things are changing outside my window. For some time now the Old College site has been no more than a mountainous lanscape of crushed college, but now that work is ubnder way to develop the site (at last), the hillside is being cut into and levelled. It's extraordinary how much gravel and dirt has been removed. Even more extraordinary are the metal bolsters that are used to shore up the alleyway at the back of the site. They must be something like fifty feet in length or more and each is being driven into the ground until the top disappears. All in all a fascinating sight.
     
    Trouble At Mill
    Somewhat less impressive is my claims advisor at the job centre. He clearly has no intention of taking any notice of what I tell him, and indeed, delights in rubbishing everything I say. This has happened before and is a precursor to having my payments stopped. There's a sense of injustice about this, not just because the advisor is known to me as a dishonest person, but because I exceed the requirements of my jobseekers contract by a factor of three or four.
     
    More Trouble At Mill
    Some of the youths in my area are getting a bit above themselves. In the hours of darkness they've taken to claiming property as their own and announcing their ownership at the top of their voices. Sometimes they taunt and threaten quite brazenly. Someone in my street is being told to leave their house or face the consequences.
     
    And the Police? You may well ask.
  13. caldrail

    Changing Lanes

    By caldrail,

    Now and again you see some motorist doing something dumb. Commercial Road is one hazard area. It's a one way street and sure enough sooner or later someone doesn't spot the signs and proceeds against the flow of traffic totally bemused at the agression and 'lunacy' of other drivers.
     
    Just lately it seems Regent Circus is becoming a hazard too. Not because of any chabges, it still remains a busy ring road like it has been for decades, but there's something peculiar. At the bottom of the hill the traffic lights seem to get out of sync, so cars entering Regent Circus from the hill then have to play russian roulette with cars coming from their blind right side (and which have right of way, incidentially, green light or not).
     
    That's a technical error rather than driver error of course. On the same ring road an increasing number of people are taking short cuts through the bus stop, accelerating madly to gain a two-car-length advantage before the lanes merge again. usually there's a chorus of loud horn blasts when that happens.
     
    Now I see people joining the ring road from Commercial Road without stopping. White lines? Traffic lights? Pfah! No such obstruction comes within the remit of the Swindon driver. Cue another chorus of loud horn blasts.
     
    Sometimes it's just bad manners. A couple of weeks ago I was walking beside a main road and observed a line of cars at a side road waiting to join traffic when the opportunity presented itself. It's a busy road, a main trunk route through town, and trying to slip past the oncoming traffic on the right and into the left hand lane requires patience.
     
    The old guy at the head of the queue had all the patience required. Clearly he was capable of waiting all day, if need be, and I suspect the little hatchback he was driving didn't exactly have have the performance to nip across a gap even if the driver saw his chance.
     
    Behind him, the younger man in a massive 4x4 waited, waited, then stopped waiting. He simply went round, shaking his head, and no doubt feeling very pleased with his time-saving manoever. What is it that the Highway Code tells us? Show patience for other road users?
     
    If I were honest, I'm not entirely angelic behind the wheel. Usually I follow the rules, and I'm definitely more patient than some. Always slowing down for horses and so forth. Normally I quote an example of Herge's Adventures of Caldrail at times like this, but offhand, I can't think of one, which kind of makes me suspect I do nip around old age pensioners rather more often than I'm concious of.
     
    Ding! I Remember Now
    The light bulb has come on. Many years ago, not long after I bought my first Toyota MR2 sports car, I was proceeding along a road and found myself slowed down by a pair of pensioners in their little japanese 5-door buggymobile. I was in a good modd. I wasn't in any great hurry. So I thought I'd wait until the big roundabout at the end of the road. Chances are the pensioers would take the left hand lane and I could zip past.
     
    Sure enough, they did. So I sped past on the inside bend and discovered why you need to take care pressing the accelerator on a curving road in rear wheel drive cars. Wooah!...
     
    All very dramatic, very embarrasing, but thankfully control was not lost completely and no harm done. Ahem.
     
    Meanwhile, Back At The Muddy Lane
    The alleyway running away from the yard near where I live is not what you'd call salubrious. it's overgrown, filled with rubbish, and is a known haunt of drug-dealers and fire-starters. Funny thing is though, under the trees growing out of the Old College site is a patch of muddy ground where drug deals normally take place between the local teenagers from up the hill. No matter what happens, it's always muddy there.
     
    Someone has had enough. They can take no more. So they laid an old wooden fence on the mud for people to walk over (mind the post). Great. Brilliant. Now assuming I don't trip over the post at some point I walk the length of the alley without getting mud all over my slightly less than white trainers.
     
    You just know someone is going to set fire to it soon.
  14. caldrail

    Chat Up Lines

    By caldrail,

    As I write this I'm listening to the guy sat in the next cubicle as he tries manfully to arouse interest in a young woman of his acquaintance. He keeps insisting he needs to buy a hammer in order to bang some curtains in. Whatever that means. He insists that intelligent people should use double beds to sleep in. By now you're probably getting the idea of what he wants.
     
    His girlfriend asks why he needs a hammer anyway, because he can't afford one. Apparently he can, the 99p shop does them. No they don't she says. They probably do he responds.
     
    Part of the problem is that she's busy on the internet, apart from her mobile phone going off regularly. He of course tries again to restart the coversation. He's going to a gym. In a few months he's going to have a back like a caveman - his words, not mine. She's not impressed, any more than I am, and whinges that girlfriends should come first.
     
    He yawns, a sure sign of increased frustratiion and boredom. I don't think he realises that she's getting more attention from the chatsite on the computer. Oh hang on, yes he has, he's moaning that her PC is more important than his gym. She hisses at him, telling him to shut his mouth, and he warns her he's about to go.
     
    Which of course he doesn't. Ahhh..... Youing love....
     
    Soap Opera of the Week
    The young woman finally lost her rag with her companion as he complained about her willingness to spend another twelve minutes on the computer. Turns out he's an ex-boyfriend. None of her other ex-boyfriends are so pushy. Wow. Eastenders in the flesh. Why sit vegetating in front of a television when you can get class action like this in a public library?
  15. caldrail

    Cheers and Tears

    By caldrail,

    After the ribald and violent cacophany of the saturday night, last night was as quiet as the grave. Taking advantage of this unusual stillness I gave in to curiosity and sat down to watch the British Film Awards.
     

     
    Award ceremonies aren't the sort of thing I usually watch. After the first few winners approach the microphone and say "Uuuh....", you kind of lose interest. Which is interesting in itself. I noticed that my attention varied in proportion to the awardee's ability and confidence at public speaking.
     
    What suprised me was how many 'name' actors and actresses stood in front of an autocue and read aloud horribly pompous and inflated praise in a monotone voice, body frozen in place, eyes fixed squarely on the invisible screen in front of them. Others spoke fluidly, full of natural movement, and to be honest, all the more interesting to listen to as a result. One or two of those and I started cringing every time the host, the ubiquitous Jonathon Ross, made another attempt to make the audience titter.
     
    Lots of expensive clothes, red carpets, flash photography, and I've forgotten almost all of it already.
     
    Geography For Beginners
    Every time I arrive at my local internet cafe I see the same thing. The Somali owners help other immigrants sort out official red tape in order to stay in England and claim our wonderful benefits. It gets a bit fraught too, usually over how many photocopies were printed off (I've seen some very creative accounting by some customers) or which document to be sent where, but on this occaision a heated discussion on where Muscat was, and was Jordan a Gulf-state?
     
    How odd that an Irish woman put them all straight.
     
    Bully In Office?
    I'm no admirer of Gortdon Brown, but the recent accusations of bullying at No10 caught my attention. Without a doubt it's a high pressure job and the fact that some of his offfice employees have sought advice from a bullying phoneline suprises not one jot. Now, I don't know what the truth of this media story is, but given how long the man waited to get into office and how grimly he hangs on to power, I really can see him as being extremely pushy. His public appearances are always designed as exercises as image improvement, thus in all probability an unreliable guide to what the man is like to work for.
     
    On the other hand, to be fair, I doubt working at No10 is a job for the faint-hearted. Bullied? Or simply not up to it? All a matter of perspective isn't it? One might claim however that Mr Brown really ought to have noticed his employees weren't happy.
     
    The Latest News From Stockroom Street
    My own personal soap opera has a new storyline just in. I came into work this morning to discover that J has spotted a change in the Facebook page for one of the girls on the shop floor. It seems KS has a girlfriend. His banter has won her heart, and of course being men we weren't interested at all in finding out the truth when she arrived at lunchtime for the late shift. Luckily for us she admitted it anyway despite our protestations we weren't remotely concerned whether the King of Banter was also a sex god.
     
    So, I asked her, what are you going to do with him when you meet up on Friday night?
     
    "Pffff!" She dismissed my question with some incredulence, "I'm not going to do anything with him"..
     
    Oh boy, is KS going to be bored or what?
     
  16. caldrail

    Chilly Times Ahead

    By caldrail,

    If I'm not mistaken, the weather is turning seasonal and things generally get a bit chilly. Yep, the trees are turning brown, and that's not because they've spotted the tree surgeons butchering the local vegetation on the annual crusade to defoliate Swindon. I was amused the other week when I encountered a couple of guys sweeping leaves out of the main corridor of the College. How very autumnal. Unfortunately, there's little for me to be amused about now and yes, things are definitely getting chilly.
     
    Showdown At The Job Centre
    Boy oh boy was I naive. I walked right into this confrontation without any idea what was coming. I'd been told I was seeing a different advisor this week. As you might expect, I just assumed that my usual advisor was taking a holiday or some other reason to to save her sanity by avoiding my weekly progress report.
     
    Oh no. Nothing so innocent. This lady was from Compliance. They're the equivalent of the Gestapo. I have to say she was a fine actress. her rendition of "I'm in a really really bad mood and what on Earth is this rubbish you're presenting me with?" was fabulous. I know she was faking it - I spotted her amused expression from the corner of my eye when she sent me on a pointless errand to get evidence of my jobsearch. I provide that every week as part of my normal activity, but after she had more or less accused me of being a liar, I no longer provide it. She is after all merely looking for an excuse to stop my payments. Anything will do.
     
    So I could not answer her questions without fingers pointed at me, accusations of bad behaviour, accusations of unrealistic expectations or activity, accusations of this, that or the other....
     
    it's inexcusable. I lost my temper. Somehow I don't think that was part of her game plan. But what a ridiculous situation. I've just spent a week at Swindon College going through an Employability course, taking a Health & Safety examination, and all of a sudden I'm unemployable. The woman is an idiot.
     
    Health Diet Of The Week
    You can't go far these days without an expert telling you that whatever you've been eating is going to kill you unless you change to this new diet, available from all good bookstores at low low prices. It was refreshing then to have been present at the Support Centre when one of the young ladies was accused of not eating properly or healthily. Healthy or not, there is nothing more scornful than a woman denied chocolate.
     
    Now there's an idea....
  17. caldrail

    Choices And Folly

    By caldrail,

    "I don't want her!" Insisted the young man to his paranoid girlfriend last night. To be honest, the sordid details of peoples love lives don't interest me overly. I'll leave that sort of thing to the people who watch soap operas. That said, it was impossible to ignore. He was a typical specimen of british youth. Thin, gangly, shaven haired, spitting out his words in a descending tone. She was was quieter, insecure, prodding him for a reaction and definitely achieving her objective. Had this conversation not been pursued at the top of his voice in frustration of his girlfriends interrogation, I probably would never have known the difficulties they were encountering. Not that it matters to me at all.
     
    People do make stange choices of partner sometimes. I'm not immune to that. In my younger days, with hormones raging, I made the same ridiculous moves every other young man makes. I'm reminded of a series of partnerships I've witnessed over the years. One was a guitar player who had been part of the first line-up of Bardiche, an 80's local rock band that I ran for a couple of years. GG was an effervescent chap, full of optimism, and although a little embarrasing to watch performing on stage due to his odd antics, a generally okay guy. He paired off with some woman or other. I don't remember her name, but her nickname was 'The Baby Seal', due in no small part to her thick coat of blubber.
     
    GG was at a club watching another local rock band, Fair Warning, in the days when they actually looked the part. Baby Seal wasn't so interested. "Can we go home now, G?" She asked repeatedly. He brushed that aside casually, intent on seeing the bands performance to the end.
     
    "I want to go home NOW, G!" She yelled. I don't know what the band thought - they must have heard her even over the wall of Marshall cabs behind them - but she got her wish. Needless to say, she made frequent use of tantrums and tears, and soon after they moved into a grotty terraced house together, the whole thing descended into disaster.
     
    The second sorry tale is TB, a musician who played with the original line-up of Red Jasper. Again, a nice guy as such, although not someone you'd invite to a party. He met a nice young girl, T, and everything seemed hunky dory. Quickly though they were becoming a little too inseperable. She was always travelling to gigs with him, and after a while it was clear they were stifling each other. I do honestly believe TB bore a large part of the blame. He always had a tendency to use others which got in him into trouble when he started his own band and used Red Jasper's name to book practice halls without turning up. The crunch came at one particular gig when he turned up with a woman we'd never seen before. He didn't introduce her. She sat there, watching us go about the business of gigging, with a smirk on her face, clearly enjoying the notoriety of being 'the other woman'.
     
    It shouldn't have suprised me. I'd spotted him once in an embrace with a woman other than T, and I guess that having discovered girls he was making full use of that discovery. Sadly it meant that he and T split up. He was dropped by the band.
     
    So as the two youngsters made their faltering progress up the side street, I shake my head, knowing full well they'll cause each other no end of grief in the coming weeks. Of course I'm older. More experienced. More worldly wise in affairs of the.... Hey... Who's that who's justcome up the stairs in the library? Heck... She's a babe. Is she with anyone?
     
    "SSHHHHH!"
     
    Ambition and Adversity
    A sixteen year old californian girl has been found alive and well after her attempt to sail solo around the world ended in storms in the Indian Ocean. Fair play to her for making the attempt. I'm all in favour of people pursuing ambition and achievement if they want it, but as the authorities stress, she timed her voyage badly. The Indian ocean is dangerous for other reasons than weather these days too, and whilst every sixteen year old teenager in the world thinks they can look after themselves, one does wonder if she was being a little foolish. Perhaps her parents ought to have let her discover boys after all?
     
    Is that a sexist attitude? It wasn't intended as such. For all I know, the young lady was mature and well prepared enough to undertake her voyage. I hope she succeeeds in her ambitions. At least her parents are supportive of her efforts. There are plenty who aren't. And there's nothing worse than having ambition stifled by over-protective and over-controlling mothers and fathers. There used to be a band from Swindon called XTC. One member, a chap called Nigel, was persuaded by his parents to give up the rock 'n roll life and get a normal job. So the band went on to chart success and careers in the music industry while he stayed as an average unexceptional company droid.
     
    Nigel has my sympathy, because I know exactly how he felt. How was guilty of the greater folly? Nigel, wanting to pursue his dreams, or mummy and daddy, forcing him to pursue theirs?
  18. caldrail

    Christmas Spirit

    By caldrail,

    The spirit of Christmas is not yet dead. I see that pensioners and beggars in Milan will get free hand-outs of caviar. Is it just me, or are the Italians doing better than Britain?
     
    Calendar of the Week
    Christmas is nearly upon us. The traditional season of thirty year old hit singles and toy adverts on tv. The same old festive movies are hitting our screens again. Well... now that I'm offically famous, I've decided to join the gravy train and announce the first official Caldrail merchandising. Even better than that, with Christmas spirit not entirely dead, I 'm giving it away FREE!
     
    http://www.mediafire.com/?3ugzgmmdjmd
  19. caldrail

    Chucking It About

    By caldrail,

    On another website I came across some collected video footage from the Korean War, mostly concerned with communist aviation. It was interesting to watch. I don't know a great deal about that conflict and this was the early days of the jet fighter, who were still fighting with WW2 tactics lacking sophisticated radar and 'beyond-visual-range' missiles.
     
    Now what comes across is the speed involved, which really shoudln't suprise anyone, but when you consider that at this time the Sound Barrier really was an obstacle for aeroplanes, an unseen phenomenon that caused aircraft to break up, the fact these pilots were flying as close to it as they could and risk enemy fire is worthy of note.
     
    Of course sometimes a pilot was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got hiit. The footage showed plenty of jets exploding under fire, and this was when ejector seats were semi-experimetal items that weren't necessarily safe to use.
     
    Having sat in aeroplanes during aerobatics I'm well aware of the forces generated by tight manoevers. The first time you encounter it the sensation of your head weighing three times as much as usual is a little uncomfortable. With some experience, you would soon get used to that, but the most interesting thing I saw in that the Korean War footage was an in-cockpit view of a russian pilot, rolling his Mig 15 enthusiastically and remaining blissfully calm throughout. He keeps glancing left and right but stays ridiculously unfazed by the forces generated by his aerobatics. Was that a propaganda shot?
     
    My First Aerobatics
    One of the great perks of joining the Air Cadets was the chance to fly in real aeroplanes once or twice a year. We flew from Filton, the same airfield that the British Concorde protoype flew from, and I have to say, that was one big concrete runway. Or at least it was on a British scale. The red, white, and black De Havilland Chipmunk trainers, the very same used by the Royal Air Force at that time, were lined up near the hut where we got our briefings for the day. We all entered the hut staring across at those aeroplanes waiting for us.
     
    Being military machines, parachutes were required. The 'seat' type we had to use were uncomfortable and awkward, making you look like a ninety year old duck as you walked back and forth with a large pillow slung under your bottom. I hated them.
     
    It was winter when we turned up to fly that day. No snow, but it was cold. It was also my misfortune to be the first cadet to fly, so in front of the others and bearing the brunt of childish humour, I waddled to the waiting plane. The mechanic told me to wait. We weren't allowed to sit in the aircraft whilst the engine was started. So I stood there, eager and totally naive about the aspects of flying aeroplanes that I was about to discover.
     
    The first was windchill. In the propellor wash the wind was frighteningly and extremely cold, way beyond the ambient temperature. By the time I had clambered up the wing and intop the rear cockpit, I was utterly frozen. The mechanic helped me strap in and he seemed completely unaffected by that arctic wind. The engine noise was considerable, warbling away at just above idle, but I remember the vibration most of all. The machine felt alive and that was a curious sensation.
     
    Once everything was in place the pilot taxied out to the runway and introduced himself over the intercom in a sort of parody of the sort of thing you hear in airliners. "So sit back and enjoy the ride..." He finished with. Yeah, okay, when I recover from frostbite...
     
    The surge of power and the acceleration down the runway is something the novice doesn't expect. The ground fell away, and I was flying, watching Bristol recede beneath me through the slightly distorting perspex canopy. Out over the Severn Estuary, the suspension bridge off to my right, and I was starting to enjoy being up here.
     
    "Right then," Said the pilot in clipped RAF english, "Four thousand feet, no-one about, barrel roll to the left.. Here we go..."
     
    Huh? What? Hey, what's happening? My world was gyrating. The sensation of being upside down at that height was alarming.
     
    "Now to the right..." He said. Oh no. Not again...
     
    "Now we'll try a loop. Gain a little speed, fuill throttle, up we go..."
     
    I'm strapped into an aeroplane with a homicidal sadist! My head wobbles around hilariously under its own volition. I feel helpless.
     
    "Now a spin. Nose up, power off, wait for the airspeed to reduce...." A loud whine is hesitantly filling my ears. That's the stall warner. Suddenly the right wing drops and the aeroplane noses down in a mad spiral. "Recover... Now spin the other way...."
     
    It was a thirty minute flight. That's all you get. I emerged from the cockpit back at the hut bravely smiling, weak at the knees, totally shaken but thankfully not stirred, and very much the wiser about aerobatics than my childhood fantasies of spitfires and messerschmitts over the Channel.
     
    See you next year then.
  20. caldrail

    Civic Pride

    By caldrail,

    I happened to spot a document in the reference library yesterday. It's a glossy colour planning proposal for Swindon's eastern development. Basically, Swindon is a town built on the left of a north/south road, the A419, which follows the route of a Roman road. Now they want to build on farmland to the right, the east of the A419. It's certainly a large development and clearly another step in the road to making Swindon a 'city'. Is that a good thing? The local politicans of course have pound signs in their eyes and are swelling their heads with ideas of becoming more important. It is true that for a while at least, the building work will employ lots of people. I don't actually think it will make any positive change for us ordinary plebs.
     
    I do note of course that the area is a flood plain. Given the recent evidence of how built up areas contribute to our flooding problem in this country, one wonders if anyone has realised that the hatched areas marked on the map are those designated from farmland, not asphalt covered estates. Still, they're the experts.
     
    It is a shame incidentially that I don't see any mention of preservation for the site of Durocornovium, our local lost Roman town, which will find itself buried by this new development. For a town that proclaims so much civic pride, they seem to be very choosy about what they're proud about.
     
    Swindon From The Back Window
    Sniff... Smoke?... I went to the back of the house and looked out, but there was no sign of a conflagration anywhere. This was in the evening. The sky was still blue although it was getting dark, the sun now below the horizon leaving a very pale rosey glow behind the dark blue-grey clouds littering the sky. A series of streetlights in the distance gave off a very strong amber shine. The row of terraced houses across the corner of the Old College site showed some sign of habitation.
     
    I notice that the people leaving in the attic apartments there don't bother closing their curtains at night. Since they can't be seen from the street, I suppose they don't feel the need. Perhaps they're too busy. In one window I spotted someone making rythmic movements. Life goes on I guess. As yet, the grafitti mice haven't come out to play. The white fence around the Old College hasn't any space left for more 'tags' has it? So tonight they'll be off somewhere else, cocking their little legs aginst any vertical surface with a spray can of paint.
     
    In the distance, out of sight, the echoes of a young man displaying his manhood as loudly as possible. I'll be stepping over the contents of his stomach tomorrow morning. A motorbike races along a street somewhere with it's engine screaming. And, if I'm not mistaken, that was the sound of breaking glass.
     
    They want to build more of this?
  21. caldrail
    A newsletter pushed through my letterbox? That wouldn't be unusual given how keen some local politicians are in making themselves sound useful to the community, but no, this has nothing to do with community politics. The neighbourhood has decided to conduct an archaeological dig behind a nearby street, hoping to find evidence of a long lost alleyway believed to lie beneath weeds, trees, and an extraordinary collection of household waste.
     
    It is fascinating how that alleyway has changed. Back in 2003, I drove a low slung sports car along it (at a crawl mind you. Safety first. Repair bills second). Now it's a meandering cinder path between masses of vegetation that a land rover couldn't tackle. I was even told by the developers of the old college site that no-one knows who the alleyway belongs to anymore. In its current state, it's hard to see why anyone would want it.
     
    I wonder what they'll find? A lost cat perhaps? A stolen white Eunos cabriolet? Japanese soldiers refusing to believe the war is over? Indiana Jones and the Alleyway of Doom? An atttactive gun-totin' young woman of impeccable breeding occupied with infiltrating a long lost atlantean colony? Who knows?
     
    Maybe it won't save the world from disaster, but nice to see the local community getting together and doing something about the fall of western civilisation in our neighbourhood.
     
    The Race Isn't Over
    A russian physicist in Manchester UK has just earned himself a Nobel Prize by creating Graphene, a sheet of carbon so thin that one gram of the material would cover several footbal ptitches. Who would have imagined such space age materials were possible?
     
    No. I don't know what it's good for either, but apparently the western military do. In the race to re-stabilise the power balance with China's ever growing armed forces, we're going to cover their football pitches in carbon. I notice the Chinese have gotten wise to that and complained about the west's master plan for military superiority. They're getting the moon to themselves right now, what else do they want?
     
    Song of the Week
    Saturday night and first on the radio's classic rock show is Status Quo and their hit single Rockin' All Over The World. How does anyone escape from that song? It just follows you around and refuses to die.
     
    Way back when I had just left school I formed a band with a bunch of mates to play a charity gig with lots other no-hopers. As it happens the event went down quite well. Sadly we didn't win the prize for the Best Band of the night. That went to a punk band who won on the basis of being the only act to perform a drum solo. They also had the sheer gall to criticise my choice of drumkit. Talk about rubbing it in. On the plus side we won the prize for the Best Instrumental Track. However the judges quite rightly refused to acknowledge the existence of our cover of Rockin' All Over The World and so the world was saved.
  22. caldrail

    Cleaning Up

    By caldrail,

    It's no good. I'm going to have to wash myself. I cannot tell you how much I'm dreading this experience. Please don't misunderstand. I have absolutely no desire to go about smelling of body odour whatsoever, but without hot water, all I have is a bucket of cold water in the bath which I very cleverly allowed to stand for a few hours in order for it to achieve room temperature.
     
    When I was young, I remember the fun I had washing mysef in such a manner during my camping expeditions. With all of us going through our own communal hell, it was a jolly wheeze. Now that I'm dangerously close to being a wheezing old gent, this isn't jolly in any way whatsoever. It comes as a shock to discover exactly how uncomfortable room temperature really is.
     
    Rub myself down with a damp sponge... Whip up a lather with soap... So far this is just about bearable... Right, now to sponge off the soap and dirt I've accumulated since giving up my life of luxury... As I rub the sponge on the back of my neck and shoulders the water runs down my back in cold rivulets... Ah.. Ah.. Ah.. Not nice. Don't like that. You know, I think this is what it's like being poor. I so want to be rich and famous right now.
     
    Covered in Oil
    "BP have failed" Announced my father. As he's a relatively uncommunicative person, such a statement was beyond my experience and it took a while for the sound to register on my perceptions. Such a long while that he repeated his observation.
     
    Usually I would make some clever or erudite reply and bring the conversation to an end before it becomes a socially awkward monent, but considering the scale of the impending disaster facing Louisiana, I was lost for words. I know Louisiana is a place far far away, a corner of the world I've never been to and if my gas bill continues to rise, never will, but there's a sense of grim resignation about it all. You know there's going to birds struggling to stand up, coated in thick sludge on a blackened sandy beach, no matter how hard they work to prevent this fate.
     
    I do actually hope those working to contain this disaster achieve something here. It would be tragic if attempts to avert the damage were abandoned or failed. Good luck chaps (and chapettes). Do yer best.
     
    All in all, I think my own cleaniness isn't such a big problem.
  23. caldrail
    It seems the Norwich By-election was grabbing the media attention last night. For those confused by the subtleties and intricacies of British politics, a by-election is the one where you don't get to run the country, so quite why the Tories are making such a big deal of Chloe Smiths victory is beyond me.
     
    Newsnight, our regular evening current affairs program, ran last nights show asking 'How did the Labour Party lose the election?'. I already know the answer to that one, it's called the vote. Another thing that bugs me is why the Monster Raving Looney Party candidates are always so jolly when they've just been soundly thrashed by established parties full of bigger idiots than they are.
     
    I speak with some authority on the subject, having once been the drummer for Screaming Lord Sutch's party band (please think about that description), and that the singer of Red Jasper (remember them?) once tried to get his dog elected as a member of Parliament.
     
    Gordon Brown of course merely states that it was "Clearly a disappointing result". Certaintly was. Not a hint of scandal whatsoever. Dear me Gordon, you are getting lazy aren't you?
     
    Potential Scandal To Watch Out For
    Now here's a hot tip for those thinking about which issues are going to be the big scandals of the future. Check out the electrication of the Great Western main line between Swansea and London. The one that passes through Swindon. The government are authorising an upgrade to rail travel to the tune of one billion pounds. They tell us that electric trains will be cleaner, greener, meaner, and altogether better than heavy, dirty, smelly diesels. As it happens they might well be right, but do I really want to believe a Minister of Parliament?
     
    Stimulation
    On the way home from that hike I took the other day I dropped into a supermarket in Old Town. Not my usual haunt, but conveniently on the route home. One bottle of Red Rooster, one of those highly caffeinated stimulant drinks, this one pleasantly fruity and cheap. Oh come on, I'm not young any more, I need these little boosts of energy (Please note - this was not product placement).
     
    The lady on the till observed that "You look tired."
     
    Uhh... Yes.... It's a heavy pack. I've walked a long way. It's been warm and wet out there.
     
    "The army uses packs like that on assault courses." She told me. Actually she's wrong, they don't, mine is a civilian one in olive green, but there you go. I told her I was too old for that sort of thing. Hopefully she'll believe that. I was way too tired for anything else and given she was twice my weight and physically incapable of fashionable clothing, my chances of survival in hand to hand combat didn't look good.
     
    Injury of the Week
    My wanderings around the countryside sometimes leave me with the odd injury. Mostly it's nothing at all. The odd blister, scratch, or perhaps in the most rarest circumstance, a minor bruise. Usually it's sore shoulders and tired legs, both cured by a hot bath and an evening of rest and relaxation. Unfortunately the Wiltshire wildlife sometimes gets an opportunity to cause me harm and this time they did exactly that. Some sneaky insect has sucked blood out of my arm leaving me with a persistent itchy lump. Not the first time an insect has done that to me, but annoying nonetheless.
     
  24. caldrail

    Clearly Oblivious

    By caldrail,

    In the good old days I used to turn up at workplaces for interviews safe in the knowledge that I would be greeted by a receptionist who would tell me to sign a book and sit over there until called for interview. More and more that doesn't happen. Instead I arrive at the employers premises to find a foyer devoid of human presence, barely decorated, looking uninviting and unfriendly. A computerised touchscreen blinks a message that I should register my presence.
     
    You would think that a computerised system would be a breeze. Nope. It was a visual version of the same old nightmare we get from telephone reception systems. Welcome to Acme Inc. Press 1 if you're an employee, press 2 if you're a contractee, press 3 if you're a visitor. From that point it got harder. The screen was impossible to use accurately, refused to let you correct a mistake, and eventually printed out a temporary security pass with a name that made me sound like an immigrant from Albania.
     
    Eventually somebody happened to wander through the foyer and asked who I was, clearly oblivious that I was already registered on their electronic visitor book for a job interview.
     
    Keeping The Road Clean
    As you might imagine, the constant coming and going of heavy goods vehicls from the Old College site does tend to eave a lot of mud on the roads nearby. Understandably the civil engineers have hired a road cleaning vehicle. I often see it parked nearby, waiting for instructions to wash the roads, a bored driver watching the world go by.
     
    The other day I spotted the cleaning truck parked in a taxi bay beside a modern office block. Despite the busy traffic, it's a somewhat quiet corner. So quiet that the driver thought no-one would notice him taking a quick wee into the waste pipes of his truck, oblivious to the fact he must have been visible by plenty of office workers.
     
    Keeping The Walls Decorated
    Every so often we get yet more graffiti in our area. Mostly it's a 'tag', the human equivalent of a dog weeing on the lampost, and done by schoolkids with nothing to do between leaving school and their parents arriving home from work to cook their meal.
     
    A few nights ago I was looking out the back of my home at night. The view has changed a lot lately now the Old College site is starting to resemble a shopping complex. In the early hours of the morning the various amber and turquoise lights cat an odd radiance on the nearby yard. Without them, I would not have seen the graffiti artist.
     
    He was silhouetted by the light, the alleyway itself closed off due to construction work and in the pitch dark behind a concrete parapet overlooking a thirty or forty foot drop recently hewn from the hillside. The alleyway itself is also pockmarked by surface subsidence and not a safe place to be.
     
    At first all I saw was movement. It wasn't clear what he was up to. A strange place to be given the circumstance so I kept an eye on him. Very soon I realised he was at work painting the side of a cement block garage in tall lettering, clearly oblivious that he was not only visible to me, but also visible from the main road.
     
    Jobsearching Initiative Of The Week
    The gossip was doing the rounds at the Support Centre. The law has been changed. From tomorrow morning unemployed people can be told to do a job to earn their benefits. Actually that's been happening for years. Whilst the politicans are merely ensuring their votes by acting on the concerns of hard working citizens, they'e oblivious to the fact that the workshy have also had years to perfect their excuses for not working.
  25. caldrail

    Closed To The Public

    By caldrail,

    Something unusual made the headlines in the local paper recently. It seems our new library has given state-of-the-art facilities. 'Green' toilets - as if that means anything to me. Now I don't usually spend much time in public toilets (although I understand that is one way to get your name in the news - thanks for the tip George) and I haven't seen these new facilities. However, just like the previous locations, the locals have been creative in using them and so the after a few weeks the toilets have been closed 'Due to misuse'.
     
    Given what I used to see in warehouses, I can just imagine. I am so tempted to recall the tale of AW and his 'flappy paddle appendage', but I suspect I've said enough. Let your imagination run riot. You're not wrong.
     
    Driver of the Week
    Goes to the gentleman who quietly and gently turned the wrong way down a one way high street in Swindon and seemed completely unpeturbed, albeit somewhat mystified, by the rows of traffic coming straight at him gesticulating angrily. I have a suspicion he's not from around here...
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