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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  1. caldrail
    I see from the news that there's plans to create a new bank holiday. Another one? hey I don't mind at all, it's another day of work... Or it would be if I had a job. It does seem a bit strange though. For a government trying so hard to oil the wheels of transport policy, why do they want to clog up the motorways with parked cars again?
     
    Is it merely another example of the Labour Party attempting to buy favour with a disillusioned public? Vote for us and have new holidays? Given that this government taxes us more than ever before, that they've borrowed so much money the economy will be weighed down for decades, that they confidently predict a recovery next year in a worsening economy, why do they think another bank holiday is such a good idea? Then it hits you. They want this new day off to commemorate those who have died at work.
     
    I have to say this is a shocking piece of political cynicism. Given that pension schemes are collapsing and most of us will have to work into retirement age and collapse on the job, one wonders if this new holiday isn't designed to prepare us for the ranks of body bags being collected from the factory gates. Welcome to Labours brave new world.
     
    Now Thats What I Call Dire
    For many years now there have been music compilations released with tv adverts, collections of chart hits that were probably best left forgotten in the first place. The Now Thats What I Call Music series is currently up to album 73. Not to be outdone, my old school has begun making CD's of teachers, parents, students, past, present, and future recording music of one sort or another, calling iit Now That's What I Call Commonweal in a blatant bandwagon of marketing.
     
    Heck, I'm glad I got out of there when I did.
  2. caldrail
    "Does anyone know anything about the Work Programme?" Asked the lady giving us our induction to what is a two year course aimed to return long term unemployed like me to the workplace.
     
    Well there' been some horror stories circulating.
     
    "Like what?"
     
    That we will have to do 38 hours a week on our job searching.
     
    "Oh no!" She chuckled, "That would be like a full time job wouldn't it?"
     
    Exactly my thoughts. Well so far the programme seems very easy going, but I did hear hints that it could get much more stringent later. Sounds like we're bing eased gently into our New Model Army of Jobseekers. The square-bashing will pick up later. I wonder if we'll be issued uniforms? There's no point moaning. We're all in it now.
     
    Who do you think that you're kidding Mr Manager
    If you you think we're sat on bums
    We are the boys who will make your staff look lame
    We are the boys who will make you think again
    So... Who do you think that you're kidding Mr Manager
    If you think that job's not ours
     
    Well what did you expect? A song from Dame Vera Lynn? There'll be bluebirds over, the local job centre, tomorrow, just you wait and see.... No. We'll search in the hills. And in the valleys. We'll apply on the beaches. We will never surrender. Wel we can't can we? Our money gets stopped if we do.
     
    Quite A Thought
    Thirty years. It never really occured to me before a feature documentary on television last night covered the last flight of the space shuttle Atlantis. There was one guy who's been fitting heat tiles to the shuttles for nearly all his working life.
     
    Thirty years. I was barely out of school when they started firing up those oversize fireworks. I remember flipping through dozens of instrument panels in Space Shuttle Simulator and wondering what on earth all this stuff was about.
     
    How long will it be before anything else so significant to our efforts to conquer space rises from the countless ideas mooted around? It was interesting that the head of shuttle flights said that a future space vehicle of this kind will need to simpler and more reliable. Our space rockets don't look much, but their complexity is mind boggling. So are the risks they're built to defy.
     
    Famine? You Mean... That Famine?
    Fifty years. That's almost how long parts of africa has been living off international aid. In other words, they've been on benefits since 1963. The UN are moving toward getting people to raise crops, sorgum for instance, a hardy wheat that grows in arid confitions. Africans can make porridge from it. Food handouts ae therefore being reduced.
     
    Unfortunately for this brave new world the sorgum fields are afflicted with a disease that ruins the crops. Might be a while before this East African famine crisis gets resolved. And yet, despite this continual history of hardship in the area, we still see the media portraying it as if this was a disaster that happened yesterday. I guess it sounds more dramatic that way.
     
    Not Just Amy Winehouse
    Everyone who could get near the internet has already posted their thoughts and tributes so there's no point my adding to the huge response to her untimely death. Especially since I never listened to her music. My loss I guess. Well sadly she lost her health to such a degree that her body gave up on her. That said, it wasn't really all that shocking, was it? Hands up anyone who really didn't know in their heart that she was destined to be a tragic figure.
     
    It's easy in these cases to get philosophical. To talk about how fragile life can be. How fleeting the human experience is. Some of the people I knew in the music business are no longer with us. Good people. Talented people. Who remembers them?
     
    And As For Top Gear...
    I made a bit of a criticism of last weeks program. No, not this time, last nights show was better. Who could possibly be dissatisified with a trio of seventies moustaches? Richard Hammond succeeding in looking debonair against all odds, James May looking like that middle manager who now has to go home and tell his wife he's been made redundant, and Jeremy Clarkson looking like he dates old women for cash. Brilliant.
     
    But it gets better because I too had a moustache in the seventies. Yes. It's true. I am an Interceptor (cue title sequence).
  3. caldrail

    Too Sexy

    By caldrail,

    Earlier today I saw a young woman ambling from shop to shop, dressed in her chosen summer wear, totally at a loss to comprehend why it wasn't baking hot under a blue sky. It was as if rainfall was an alien experience to her. So either she's a seductress from another planet sent here to spawn a new super-race with us lowly earth-beings, or she's suffering the same limited memory span that most of us do. Yes, dear, sometimes it rains. Even in Swindon.
     
    As it happens I think the rain is long overdue. Sunny weather is great as long as it isn't too hot, but Britain was never designed to be tropical. We keep getting warnings about low water levels in reservoirs so any rain at all is a good thing, unless you happen to be living in one of the areas suffering flash floods because of it, which I imagine might well adjust opinions somewhat.
     
    Thing is though - Whenever we get these sudden rainy days I invariably have to go somewhere and end up thoroughly drenched. Today is different. I've gone about my business and remained mildly damp. Perhaps this is a lucky day?
     
    Now I've never considered myself particularly lucky. After all, I've never won more than forty pounds on the National Lottery since it started. Then I start to realise that I'm not missing any body parts. Neither have I ever suffered a bad car accident. Neither have I been savaged by a dog, sat in an airliner about to be used as a missile, kidnapped by somalian pirates, or abducted by a UFO.
     
    Hi babe. Are you from Venus? Wanna share a Mars Bar? No? Oh well. Guess it isn't my lucky day after all.
     
    Too Sexy For My Planet
    Perhaps I should have checked my horoscope for the day. It says I shouldn't put myself down. Yes, I agree, that alien seductress has no idea what she's passed on. Or perhaps she does? Let's be positive. Perhaps I should have realised I'm too sexy for my planet? If only my horoscope had warned me...
     
    It is a funny thing though. We blokes are supposed to make the first move by law. Failure to make the effort reduces your manliness to the point of verbal abuse from the male population of your area, even though most of them haven't done anything either and desperately want to avoid the same treatment. I've encountered this so many times in the past. If a woman gives off the signals, then it's mandatory to make at least some attempt to spawn a new super-race. Failing to notice is no excuse.
     
    Of course a gentleman shouldn't tell. I usually remain silent about my love life though in my case that's enlightened self-interest. Husbands and boyfriends are notorious for violence when outraged. But, even in my poverty stricken middle age mediocrity, there are still contenders for that coveted scratch on the bedpost.
     
    Contender No1 - This is the one I've known for longest, though so far we meet infrequently. She's a busy lady, always doing something interesting that you hadn't expected, and I'll be honest, she is jolly attractive. I suspect she isn't difficult to please, but difficult to keep interested nonetheless.
     
    Contender No2 - This young lady sets off car alarms as she walks past. Don't get me wrong, she's got style, class, and is wonderfully understated. She's also the most intelligent of them and I think she's already cottoned on to what I'm after. Chances are she's already reading this right now.
     
    Contender No3 - A recent entry to this competition. Not especially pretty but plenty of character. She smoulders, she really does. In a way this one is like plastic explosives. Safe to handle provided you don't detonate her. There's something primeval about playing with fire, isn't there? It's the thrill factor.
     
    Contender No4 - Of the four, the most obviously sweet and innocent. I don't think under normal circumstances she would bother with me at all, but we keep catching each others eyes. So far it hasn't provoked a socially awkward situation. As a bloke, the pressure is on to provoke one.
     
    There you have it. The horoscope said I shouldn't put myself down, so I've given the world a little insight into the steamy sex secrets of Rushey Platt. Now you know I'm not gay. Okay? Now if only that mouthy idiot in the newsagent would learn to read, he'd know too.
     
    Oh. I forgot. Contender No5. Alien seductress who doesn't like Mars Bars. But like The Apprentice, there can only be one winner. Lady - you're dumped.
     
    Pleasure Cruise of the Week
    Last night I heard the news that a pleasure cruiser docked at Southampton was raided by police, who found a record breaking
  4. caldrail

    It's A Wonderful Life

    By caldrail,

    "You've had a wonderful life" My claims advisor had told me, having gleaned that pearl of wisdom fom my CV. Of course like all CV's it merely accentuated the positive. All those disasters and mistakes over the years never made it to the final draft, never mind the interminable hassles that life forces us to endure. She was of course trying to win my approval for her state sponsored rebuild of my appearance, character, and history, in the vain hope I might actually become employable. Little did she know that my lucky rabbit's foot would strike again and I'd get a job by my own efforts, unemployable or not.
     
    Is my life wonderful? That's an interesting question. It is true I've done things many people never will, but then again, the price was high. I've lost out on many aspects of life that those same people take for granted. Okay, the decade of being an aspiring musician gave me some purpose in life. And the following decade of fast cars and flying aeroplanes was very enjoyable, thank you very much. The following decade of unemployable mediocrity and occaisional disaster hasn't been quite so fun, no matter what Eva believes.
     
    Is my life wionderful right now? Erm, no. I'm doing a job that is the most physically demanding I've ever undertaken, at a relatively unfit and unhealthy fifty plus. Not well paid or secure, either, not to mention being forced to use a bus to get to and from my home, which for me is tantamount to raising a white flag. Truth is I'm just not used to going home barely able to walk. On the bright side, I can of course thumb my nose at Eva, my domineering and ignorant claims advisor. Maybe life ain't that bad after all.
     
    Pallet Man
    Having to cope with my persistent cold means I've taken to imbibing some much needed Lemsip during my lunchbreak. I hate the stuff. True, it helps me get through the day, but the taste is foul. They say medecine only works if you can barely swallow it. Hard Hat, my afro-carribean colleague who believs NASA overlooked him in the race to land on the moon, noticed I was getting abit drowsy. He generously offered me a can of some energy drink or other. I don't usually have much time for the stories of how these drinks affect people, but ye gods, that on top of Lemsip did the trick. I feel myself changing... Growing stronger...
     
    Stand back mortals. I am now Pallet Man, superhero and defender of the oppressed warehouseman. Up up and stack 'em!
     
    Wonderful Life Of The Week
    Right now I'm sat at a computer cubicle at my local library. Next to me is the same guy I always seem to be sat next to, irrespective of when I actually sit down for a couple of hours. He looks sort of like Bilbo Baggins evil twin brother. I wouldn't ordinarily take any notice but he talks to himself all the time. I get a running commentary of his internet activity.
     
    Almost as annoying as BFL, and the last time she sat down beside me (obviously losing a struggle with Gibbering Baggins for that accolade), she very loudly proclaimed what she was doing and moaned when she couldn't. It's been several years and she still hasn't got the message that I'm not interested in being her best friend.
     
    That lady who moans about my presence at the library moaned at me again today. And last night, a lady on the bus demanded to know where I got my travel pass from. Why, the bus fairy, of course. All I have to do is lay down a large sum of cash on a particular desk and it magically appears in my hand. Easy.
  5. caldrail

    Confessions of a Voyeur

    By caldrail,

    A little while ago I was busy with my beloved PC (together now for nine years - we're such good friends). Now every so often real life intrudes on my happy relationship as nature calls, so up I got and headed for the bathroom. In doing so, I glanced out the window - fatal mistake...
     
    My neighbour across the street was busy with her boyfriend. I'm not sure how to be discrete about this... And I know you're dying to know what she was doing.... Let me assure you it was humanly possible (sort of), no furry animals were harmed, and that I won't require professional counselling to get over the experience of it.
     
    On the contrary, I was very amused. The silly girl hadn't realised that the opposite side of the street had a clear view of her leisure activities. Now I know what you're thinking - No, I didn't stand there grinning, I did the decent thing and answered natures call. After all, puddles on the carpet are usually associated with our canine companions and the ability to use a toilet is one of the signs of a culturally advanced species. So is drawing the blinds.
     
    Natures Musical Chairs
    There's a new series of documentaries on tv focusing on the increasingly nasty side of wildlife, the sort of behaviour that would destroy David Attenboroughs career and traumatise young girls who think wild animals speak english and have a fluffy texture.
     
    It doesn't suprise me at all. Nature is increasingly under pressure, from us, the climate, all sorts of reasons. Ok, its because of us. But the point is that nature is now starting to say No More Nice Mother Nature. There's only so much space, only so much food, only so many of the species still left to mate with. When the music stops, the last fluffy animal standing is a goner. So now they're snapping at each other for the last chair.
     
    Perhaps we should feel guilty. Then again, this isn't the first time nature has been under pressure and that pressure is nowhere near what its been in previous ages. My prediction is that this behaviour will get increasingly aggressive.
     
    So the next time that pidgeon stares at you... You know you've been targeted.
     
    Observation of the Week
    No, not girl across the street! Late last night I popped out for a kebab. For those foreigners who've never been outside Alabama, a kebab is a turkish dish similar in concept to a taco. Kebabs are very popular in Britain, and form the staple diet of late night drinkers. Anyhow, the turkish guy behind the counter was unusually chatty and asked "How has your weekend been?"
     
    It isn't over yet, I replied.
     
    "Yes, but I mean, how was your weekend, was it a good one, yes?"
     
    Wet, I replied. Well it has been raining a lot recently, and there's a risk of repeat flooding like we saw back in July.
     
    "That is the trouble with this country my friend. Too much water"
     
    No kidding.... Welcome to the British Isles.
     
  6. caldrail

    The Herd Instinct

    By caldrail,

    Don't you just love large corporations? They can afford the glossy ads with happy smiling people, promising all manner of wondrous success with their economically priced and desirable goods. The reality of course is that they're in business, and really their only oncern is how much cash they can extract from your pocket. So when things don't go to plan, and the badly designed product doesn't meet expectations, naturally you get miffed and raise objections, and perhaps unsuprisingly, the large faceless corporation suddenly becomes larger and more faceless as they play pass the parcel with your complaint hoping the fuss will either hit someone else or simply go away. Its that herd instinct isn't it?
     
    Yep, I'm in that situation, having to find someone in a world-wide multi-national corporation who actually has enough pride in their work to take a complaint seriously. So far, they've closed ranks and sent me back to GO (Do not collect
  7. caldrail
    Just around the corner from where I live is a nice little spot called Queens Park. Its the remnant of an abandoned railway tunnel entrance that was turned into a public park, now surrounded by housing developments that sprang up in the 20's and 30's. Its a lovely place with a natural patina thats difficult to achieve deliberately. The central lake is surrounded by thick bushes and trees, lots of overhanging willows and pines on small islands, and the local waterfowl use it as a hotel with free room service from generous bread-wielding pensioners.
     
    The old glasshouse has long since gone. I remember visiting it when I was young, admiring the desert and jungle foliage exhibitions and being amazed at the damp heat required for the lush vegetation to prosper. Now its a concrete frame with ivy decoration, an open space where an entrepeneur has recently had his cafe removed.
     
    Perhaps its just that I'm familiar with it as it is. I'm comfortable with it. Its a quiet haven of nature in the middle of town. But its under threat....
     
    The council want to renovate it. They want wide open grass verges around the entire lake, to rid the park of the overhanging tree, to encourage families to wander around with somewhere to let their boisterous offspring off the leash. Thats all very well, but if you don't fit that category? The council did the same recently to Lydiard Park, a much larger public space. Whilst it genuinely looks clean and tidy it also looks empty, artificial, naked without the expected undergrowth and wooded paths. It looks awful not to put too fine a point on it, and after spending five million pounds ruining Lydiard some genius wants to spend more of our taxes ruining Queens Park.
     
    I've sent an email to them. I hope they read it, I also hope they understand that not everyone wants indentikit parks everywhere, that not everyone wants the same thing from public space. Somehow, you can't help feeling that with big money driving the project, my email won't go much further.
     
    More Uneasy Feelings
    With Queens Park under threat of being transformed into a boring grassy wilderness inhabited by three year old tribesmen, its as well to remember that another beauty spot is under threat too. Coate Water, a canal reservoir thats been a public place for a a hundred and fifty years, is known as Swindons Gateway To The Country. Not for much longer. The government has OK'd a development on the flood plain adjacent to the motorway that runs behind it. Coate Water - Swindons Gateway To Another Vandalised Housing Estate.
     
    Heartfelt Message of the Week
    Please please please will people stop seeing big bucks and realise that sometimes a valuable asset can be ruined by throwing cash at it. I might be just a lone voice in the soon to be renovated wilderness, but natural beauty can't be created with bulldozers.
  8. caldrail
    Walking along an old railway cutting near where I live, I noticed the rocks had fallen away. Now I know the rocks of that particular place were once the sandy floor of a shallow sub-tropical sea during the Jurassic Age, so out of curiosity I clambered up to where the rock face has come away and examined those rocks for any sign of fossils. As much as I'd like to find something special, it wasn't likely. This area was an archipelago back then, a coral reef to the northwest, and right here a seaside paradise like the ones we spend loads of money to get drunk beside every year.
     
    As I look underneath the broken surface, my eyes open wide. The impression of an ammonite shell is clearly visible. These 'squids in spiral shells' are extinct, and if you look carefully, fairly common in the fossil record, though the vast majority are no more than an inch or two across. Not this one. At least twelve inches across - a very impressive specimen. And very missing. I looked around the rubble but no sign of it. Gone. Sold at a carboot sale and propped up beside someones fireplace in all likeliehood. No-one else will see it.
     
    It makes me wonder how many historical artifacts, so vital to our understanding of times past, have been hidden away for the pleasure of the selfish collector. The modern trade in Egyptian antiquities is well known, although I suspect the great majority are fakes sold to the gullible.
     
    About three years ago I ventured into the pub up the hill. That pub has a reputation for violence, not entirely undeserved, but on this particular night I got talking to some old chap. He mentioned he knew a secret, and I casually enquired further.
     
    "I know where to find the tomb... of the..." He had to think about this bit.. "Ancestress."
     
    Now this was way cool. Sensing this chap was out of his depth, I pressed him for information. Where is this tomb?
     
    "I can't tell you, its too dangerous."
     
    So you're an adventurer then? You're one of those blokes who smuggles stuff from Egypt?
     
    "Yes, Egypt." He agreed, unable to think of something more original, "I rescue stuff from Egypt, I'm the Del Boy of the Desert, crossing the sand dunes."
     
    In your Reliant Robin?
     
    "Yes."
     
    But you've got no suntan?
     
    "I go at night."
     
    You do meet interesting people in pubs...
     
    My Week at Work
    My boss has finally given up trying to sell his BMW to me. Why he thought it would give me managerial credibility I don't know, I'd look more like a drug dealer. So now he's trading it in for a Jagwah. I know because he tells me. On the hour, every hour. Worse still, we've dscovered that a major contract has been lost and that means our client-specific stock has to be relabelled. Literally thousands of labels to be applied. Plenty of opportunity then for AD to discuss the merits of Jagwahs.
     
    I'm in Hell....
     
  9. caldrail

    Talking Rubbish

    By caldrail,

    Our local councillor, SP, is a man with a mission, and he's talking rubbish. Yes, I said rubbish. His five point plan on waste issues in our area is now posted through everybodies door - he means business. Well good luck SP. I know you mean well, but lets be honest, if you want to cure fly tipping what difference are adverts, thicker bags, and busibodies telling you to recycle a bottle going to do? Not a lot. Old mattresses, discarded clothes, and an endless supply of black plastic bags will still mysteriously appear overnight. You can only enforce a law if you catch the law-breakers. So if you can rustle up some civil servants to lurk in dark alleyways at night to catch fly-tippers, why couldn't you rustle up a few to catch the moron who disabled my car? Ooops... Too late.
     
    New Library Update
    They promised us a new library. A new purpose built custom designed enviroment for community learning. No really, I've seen the artists impressions. Actually, it didn't look too bad on the painting. But.. aaah... what exactly are those big green compost bins along the roofline? They weren't on the artists impression. Lets see... It could be a defensive ring of machinegun turrets to ward off new zealand pensioners who won't shut up.... It could be an early warning radar system to give advance notice of my arrival... Or is our new library the spearhead of an alien plot to study human beings? Or did someone forget to tell the artist just what an ugly building it was really going to be?
     
    Old College Site Update
    The demolition of my old college has begun. Typically for Swindon College, nothing seems to be happening yet. Wooah, hang on a minute... workmen spotted.... standing around talking.... deciding whose turn it is to make the tea... Hey, its a start isn't it?
     
    Canal Project Update
    A straw poll for the local paper asked 1,000 people whether they wanted a canal through Swindon. They said NO! Good grief, are these people serious? Where else are they going to leave their shopping trolleys?
  10. caldrail
    I apologise. I have just seen an artists impression of the new Swindon Library on the wall as I popped down to log on this morning, and the carbuncles are indeed shown. The colours used by the artist played down the visual effect and therefore I hadn't noticed them.
     
    Plane Crash In Kent
    A tragic accident in Farnborough, Kent, where a Cessna Citation business jet ran into engine trouble after take off and attempted to return to Biggin Hill, only to lose control and crash into a housing estate. Two pilots and three passengers killed (one was David Leslie, a car racing commentator) but mercifully no casualties amongst the householders. The occupants of the destroyed house were on holiday.
     
    I've come across this sort of accident before. I spoke to a chap at Thruxton Airfield once or twice, a man who ferried jockies between race meets in a Beech Baron twin. I never saw his accident, but after take off on a flight to france (just like the bizz jet crash too) a door hadn't been closed properly, and although this wasn't life threatening, the pilot decided to return, land, close the door, and continue. In the circuit he had no choice but to fly low due to prevailing weather, and in respect of the village he was flying over, decided to reduce noise. He accidentally pulled the wrong lever and shut down one engine at low speed. The baron winged over and plunged nose first into a field from 400' with four people on board.
     
    I was an active pilot for something like eight years. I never had anything serious go wrong (one or two causes for concern however) but the sky is an unforgiving enviroment. When it goes wrong, it gets very serious very quickly.
     
    Sincere condolences to the friends and families of the victims.
  11. caldrail
    Today I'm setting aside my usual commentary on the World and its problems, and shall therefore describe events in a normal Caldrail Day. You know the sort of thing, that blues song..
     
    7:00am - Wake up.
     
    7:01am - Roll over and go back to sleep.
     
    8:30am - Neighbours go to work.. wardrobe doors banging.... giggling and shouting..... Car starting up and driving off....
     
    8:35am - Garage across the yard opens for business and the yard fills up with customers cars. Engines making all sorts of 'orrible noises, alarms going off...
     
    8:45am - No its no good. Up I get, morning ablutions - Ye gods I look I've been pulled through a hedge...
     
    9:00am - Turn up at the library to log on and fill my blog with stuff like this...
     
    9:05am - AM complains his emails aren't working.
     
    9:10am - AM complains the advice the library techie gave him isn't working...
     
    9:15am - AM gives up and goes over to the papers and tell his mates everything he knows about the Anglo-Zulu war of 1879... Wouldn't mind but he's so wrong...
     
    9:20am - AM tells everyone he's going to South Africa soon.
     
    9:25am - Miss L saunters past.... For some reason I can't remember what I was typing...
     
    10:00 - Times up - the computer logs me out. I leave the library.
     
    Wow. What a fun packed day, and its only mid-morning! You guys must be soooo jealous...
  12. caldrail

    Body in the Water

    By caldrail,

    Coate Water is a local beauty spot. Built as a reservoir for the convenience of the 18th century canals that passed through the valley, its now a nature reserve and a pleasant walk. In the local paper however I discover that a weekend walker had discovered a body there. Apparently it had been there for months, almost reduced to a skeleton, hidden in a stagnant pond near the lake itself. As yet no-one knows who he is or how he met his fate, but the disturbing thing for me is that I've walked past him two or three times. Along with hundreds of early morning dog-walkers and afternoon strollers.
  13. caldrail

    Franglais Fury

    By caldrail,

    The french are upset. Their entry for this years Eurovision Song Contest is to be sung in... wait for it... English! No, surely not.... The French are proud of their language, once the language of diplomacy. It seems that a nation whose quest to eradicate english words in their conversational language has now reached the ultimate irony. French politicians are dismayed - but good grief people, are you really taking the Eurovision Song Contest seriously?
     
    Worsening Situation of the Week
    This accolade definitely goes to Zimbabwe. Mugabe is determined to hold on to power and wants the vote recounted. Outbreaks of civil violence are reported. Armed chinese soldiers are reported in the country. A shipload of chinese armaments for Zimbabwe is refused permission to unload its cargo. The opposition claim a state of undeclared war exists. Robert Mugabe blames Britain for everything. Its all getting very predictable isn't it? But have you seen his moustache? What is it with dictators and moustaches? Are moustaches a symptom of megalomania? If his facial hair gets any worse, expect bad things to happen in Zimbabwe.
     
    New Arrivals of the Week
    The British National Space Centre, an organisation that co-ordinates civil space activities across government departments, is leaving London for a new home in Swindon. I welcome our cockney visitors and would happily take them to our leader. If any organisation is qualified to move to Swindon, its the BNSC. Lets face it, Swindon is full of aliens these days...
  14. caldrail
    Bureaucracy - don't you just love it?
     
    The problem with being poor in Britain is that you have to prove it. Seriously, its no good turning up to a dole office unshaven, haggard, dressed in rags. You need documented proof that an agent of the government can photocopy and study in every detail. Even if you give them the proof, you can guarantee you'll be getting a letter four weeks later asking for the proof you submitted originally. Oh and it must have your name and address on it. My bank is fed up with me asking for two month statements. They used to accomodate my requests but now its a big deal - so far they haven't charged me for it despite several threats to do so. And letters of termination from my ex-employer? I got my last job through an agency, and their policy is not to send letters. They simply stop paying you when the vacancy is finished. The authorities simply do not understand this. So I trudge back and forth from office to desk to office to desk.... Well, you get the idea.
     
    There are people who live quite well on benefits in Britain How? Is there a secret handshake? Or do I need to be a refugee from eastern europe? Or should I spawn several screaming kids so the government can pay for their upbringing? Time to reassert my presidency of the Independent Peanut Republic of Rushey Platt and approach the UN for recognition...
     
    Canal Update of the Week
    Birmingham say Do It. Build the canal. The people of Swindon say no - don't do it - it'll only cost us money. Two local councillors say No, Don't Do It. Somehow you get the impression that some messianic person in authority will nonetheless order the construction of a new canal through Swindon (something Birmingham doesn't have to contend with, they simply reopened their existing ones). Whats the big deal? It'll be finished by 2025...
  15. caldrail
    Have you seen that Tom Hanks movie about being marooned? Its a lonely vigil, here in my safe warm cave on Washout Island. Every day I do little else than send messages in bottles hoping an employer will come across it and send a boat to bring me back to civilisation. One bottle came back on the morning tide with a note inside saying - You haven't done the first bit. Oh? Whats that? Light signal fires? Jump up and down at passing aeroplanes yelling very loudly? Becoming intimately familiar with a football? I've seen some rejections in my time but good grief if these guys don't want me to work for them, why didn't they just send a letter saying Sorry, no chance Mate like everybody else?
     
    Confession of the Week
    Yes its true. I did. I attended a school reunion for the class of '78. After thirty years its incredible how life has aged and changed some people, yet how a handful seem immune to the ravages of time. One guy I recognised instantly walked in out of a time warp. It was peculiar how the relationships with some of my former schoolmates has survived - we got talking as if thirty years hadn't happened. Sadly, for some it had, and inevitanbly there were those with personal tragedies. It does make you realise that maybe life hasn't been so bad, so I guess its back to sending messages in a bottle with renewed vigour and long meaningful conversations with a football.
  16. caldrail

    Its a Cruel World

    By caldrail,

    For a while we've had some cracking weather, lovely and sunny. Today though its cloudy, damp from yesterdays rain, and to be honest, quite a bit cooler. In fact, as I strolled across town in the mid-day gloom I could see my breath.
     
    Then again, things ain't too bad. The rain yesterday didn't amount to a cyclone sweeping Swindon downstream in massive mudslides or tsunami's. nor did an earthquake reduce my local school to an impromptu graveyard.
     
    Nature can be fantastic. A fluke of the weather, a little spot untainted by mankinds need to redevelop, or an animal in the wild close-up, where you never expected. Something that for one reason or another entrances you with its beauty.
     
    Sometimes though, nature ain't like that at all...
     
    Nature's Nasty Side
    If you're squeamish at all - look away now...
     
    On my way to the library in West Swindon I passed through one of those urban playgrounds that no-one uses. The other side of a fence made from railway sleepers I noticed movement on my left. A crow, startled by my sudden appearance. But it was the other bird that shocked me. A pidgeon, clearly badly injured, feathers strewn everywhere and unable to escape, was being eaten alive by scavengers. At times like this you feel powerless, and it reminds you just how cruel nature can be right in your own back yard, away from the media news teams and their cameras.
     
    But on a lighter note
    Right, enough of death and misery, back to my jobsearch. And there's a new winner of Idiot Employee of the Month. I was given a phone number to enquire about a vacancy and duly rang, but the contact wasn't available, so I rang back later. This time however the woman on the phone realised it was a good idea to ask what the phone call was for, and discovering I was after a job, took some details and promised to send me an application form. Next day, the form arrived in the morning post. With absolutely no details of where to send the thing when I'd filled it in. Obviously this is some sort of initiative test isn't it? I think I've applied to be James Bond's apprentice without realising.
     
    Oops... sorry... didn't mean to blow your cover chaps...
  17. caldrail

    Bears With Sore Heads

    By caldrail,

    On the tv news I saw an old woman despairing of having to face the consequences of another war again at her age. "Why can't we all live in peace?" she asks.
     
    Why indeed? Because human beings aren't a peaceful species. In order for us to survive, nature has developed us to be social animals, competing for resources, survival of the fittest, and so on. In the modern world, those instincts are still there. It isn't just politics and war though. We see the same instincts played out in business, or on street corners for that matter.
     
    The russian leaders are not happy with the current political setup. I don't know if this is the case, but I can well imagine they're not happy with effectively surrendering the Cold War and finding their former enemy expanding and encroaching on what they consider their own back yard. You can't help but wonder if the failure of the Warsaw Pact to intimidate the west has left the russian bear with sore feelings. There are many russians for instance who would be happier under a strict stalinist regime.
     
    The russians are however somewhat heavy handed, and in trying to impose control over their southern neighbour they end up killing a great many innocent civilians whilst ostensibly protecting others. War is a terrible thing, there's no doubt, but what would we do without it?
     
    Dunce of the Week
    On my way home from the sports centre I was walking beside a recreation ground (thats a grass field in urban areas for non brits) when I spotted a lady walking her dog. Nothing unusual about that at all, recreation grounds are commonly used for that purpose. She had her dog, a young black labrador, on a lead, one of those silly retractable ones with a plastic handle. She threw the ball for her dog to fetch, but inthe heat of the moment, threw it a little too far. The dog eagerly went afterit, and reached the end of the leads extension. The dog then lifted up in a graceful arc suspended by its neck. The woman on the other hand, fell flat on her face. You should never laugh at peoples misfortune. Sometimes you just can't help yourself.
  18. caldrail

    Nursery Crimes

    By caldrail,

    Another little gripe about libraries... Well, I seem to spend a lot of time in them these days. Sometimes I stroll across town to the local library at a sports centre. Today, as I log on, its become an impromptu day care centre. There's a whole tribe of infants all sat around singing nursery ryhmnes. Maybe its my age, but I feel an urge to morph into AM, and shout "WILL YOU LOT SHUT UP! I'm trying to type my emails."
     
    Oh no, not another nursery rhymne. Twinkle twinkle little star... Now they're clapping along too. I thought libraries were supposed to be quiet? Mind you, all those innocent little angels sat back there transifixed by their renditions of the latest nursery top ten are tomorrows thugs, burglars, dole cheats, joyriders, and vandals. Now you know why they turn out bad.
     
    Headline of the Week
    The latest headline in our local newspaper proclaims that Booze has cost town
  19. caldrail

    Damp Squib

    By caldrail,

    British weather struck with a veangeance yesterday. Not quite the heaviest downpour I've ever suffered, but it kept on raining heavily all day. I have an army issue rucksack - officially declared waterproof -which had a small puddle at the bottom of it. My mobile phone got trashed by water damage again. Why can't manufacturers make a mobile phone that doesn't disintergrate in mildly moist conditions? Worse still, having already been out in the rain and well soaked, I found a message left by the post office asking me to collect an undelivered parcel. Oh no... not another hour long trek across Swindon...
     
    ...All for a pair of light bulbs donated by my electricity company. Cheers guys. That put a damper on the deal...
     
    Canal Progreess of the Week
    Its looking ever more serious, as I see from the old collectibles shop that advanced planning consent is in the works. Can't wait...
  20. caldrail
    Yesterday I wandered into a music store and as usual fingered through the various artists that I particularly like. One CD stood out, with stickers telling me it was the 'new album'. Okeedokee, one purchase made. When I looked closer at home I realised it wasn't the artist the CD had been filed under, but some band I'd never heard of. Doh!
     
    I suppose I could of taken it back but curiosity got the better of me. And I'm pleased it did.
     
    The album was Indestructible, the band called Disturbed, playing a sort of melodic thrash metal of better quality than most. I don't like thrash metal, it hides a lack of talent beneath frantic enthusiasm for fast songs in most cases, but these guys are better than that by a long way.
     
    I like it a lot. 9 out of 10 people, and thats my score for a thrash metal CD of all things.
     
    Socks of the Week
    Goes to the pair I was wearing on Tuesday, when we had that heavy rain all day. They're still wet.
  21. caldrail

    Boys Will Be Boys

    By caldrail,

    Manhood is a difficult quality to define, for no other reason than it means something different to everyone, and even then the definition can vary according to the situation you're in. In general, its defined by the various social groups by their own standards.
     
    I remember my school days. The 'lads', the dominant members of our youthful community, would always inhabit the toilet so as to smoke cigarettes in seclusion away from the disapproving gaze of irate teachers. They regarded smoking as symbolic of their manhood, it was a required activity of their exclusive tribe. I also remember how they used to panic when a teacher got curious and decided to enter the toilets in the hunt for misbehaving youths. Oooh look at me, I'm smoking, aren't I a man? Oh no, teacher! Quick, put it out! Muffled expletives and much foot stomping followed. Was I impressed with their manhood?
     
    No. I wasn't. To be honest, thats the major reason I never smoked. It all seemed a bit false, an act, and the people doing it really not as manly as they liked to portray themselves as, even if they could beat me up. All part of growing up I guess. Things have changed since I was young. Fewer adults smoke, attitudes toward smoking have changed, and it really isn't the desirable symbol of adulthood it once was. One thing about kids that hasn't changed is their quest for such symbols. These days the knife has taken its place.
     
    The problem with carrying potentially lethal weapons is that sometimes people are tempted to use them. A morbid curiosity perhaps. Or lashing out in a crisis that they're too emotionally immature to handle peacefully. Or simply to prove their manhood to their peers. It shouldn't suprise anyone that the majority of stabbing victims are youths. Young men compete amongst themselves for dominance according to the primeval instinct, testing themselves against each other. With each generation, you must recreate civilisation. Unless you educate and impose the values and morality of the civilised world you get little barbarians, whose only restriction on behaviour are what they believe they can get away with. The modern bully now has something much more threatening to dominate his victims with than a closed fist.
     
    It annoyed me a few days ago as I watched David Beckham giving a press conference telling kids not to use knives. Very commendable, but what makes anyone believe the kids are going to listen to a bunch of self-important footballers? They may be sporting heroes but that only matters when they score the goals on the pitch. Or as fashion dummies perhaps. But as role models? These people live outside of our reach, in secure privacy or exclusive and select social circles. Beyond the 'heroism' of the pitch (and I use the term extremely loosely) there's nothing for kids to identify with because they cannot see these players acting out their normal everyday lives. They cannot interact with them for any significant period and learn from them. Not that it matters, because their lives are just so beyond those of kids wielding knives on the street.
     
    So sporting heroes are not suitable as role models. The problem, they shouldn't need to be role models at all. The fathers of these youths are often missing and that certainly doesn't help. But even that isn't to blame entirely. The underlying problem is that whereas once a child was thrown into the deep end of adult life at a certain age, now he's allowed to become a teenager. A group with its own standards, its own tribal structures, learning behaviour from their peers in isolation of adult guidance. Thats where the solution will be found, otherwise boys will be boys all over again.
     
    Doomsday Moment of the Week
    No, not some apopalyptic prophecy - This one's sponsored by William the Conquerer. I was checking through the entires for my local area and very revealing it is, even with the terse and sparse nature of the descriptions. The king, Winchester Abbey, Glastonbury Abbey - all owned land around Swindon, itself on the edge of Savernake Forest. Forest of course meant something different back then, meaning kings land rather than large areas of trees. There's also a guy called Miles Crispin who appears to a major landowner, letting some of his holdings to his fuedal underlings. Alfred of Marlborough does something similar. Swindon itself, the old market town on the hill, was owned by Odo, Bishop of Bayeaux and a relative of King William. All thats very interesting, but when I looked the entry for Highworth, I did laugh. Stand up and take a bow, Ralph the Priest. Monty Python eat your heart out.
  22. caldrail
    Yesterday evening the weather was warm and sunny, tempered by a cool westerly breeze. I enjoy a hike into the country now and then, and in order to try for an atmospheric or dramatic sunset photograph, I climbed the torturous footpath up to Burderop Ridge. Getting photographs like that isn't as easy as it sounds because nature invariably displays its best when you're least prepared, but lets try nonetheless. So I found a comfortable grassy spot overlooking the local countryside.
     
    The first event was a mechanical rushing noise behind me. At first I thought it was a lorry on the back road, then realising it couldn't be, I turned around as two army helicopters flew by a few hundred yards away at treetop height, turning to overfly wroughton airfield before I lost sight of them. Well that was certainly dramatic, but my cantankerous camera refused to switch on. Typical.
     
    After that helicopter flypast, I wondered if nature was going to able to better it. I waited for the sun to go down. There were birds flying around, mostly pidgeons, but then one hawk flew over the top of me slowly, very low, beating its wings powerfully against the wind. My jaw dropped in suprise at being so close to a bird of prey in the wild. Its less than ten feet away! Quick! Get a shot! (fumble) Oh no, I don't believe it, the camera is playing up again! I sat and watched helplessly as the bird of prey swung right and swooped down the incline out of sight.
     
    To be honest, the photos I did get were lacklustre. Compared to the ones I should have got, they were rubbish. Nature had done what it always does - displayed its best when I wasn't ready.
     
    UFO Incident of the Week
    Mind you, that helicopter flypast might have been a top secret mission to intercept UFO's. Don't laugh, the army have been reporting them just lately. Well, in order to save the government several million pounds worth of investigation, it was only me and the camera... Must have been the flashlight... Sorry guys...
     
    Talking About Nature...
    Shame about the photo's but never mind. It was a lovely evening, watching the cropfields ripple in the wind, clouds drifting by, birds wheeling overhead. At least it was until the sun went down. Up on the ridge, without shelter from the wind, it got very chilly, very quickly. Once I was back down amongst the hedgerows and trees, it was noticeably warmer. Just a reminder how harsh the climate can be in exposed places, even in summer.
  24. caldrail
    There's a car advert thats been shown on tv for some time now and it still bugs me. A stylish young man in his dayglo green Mazda hatchback does handbrake turns around the studio with beautiful female dancers trying to stop him from drving away. It never did look right. Firstly, the hatchback is the same as the car his granny would drive. Without the body kit, spoilers, rubber-band tires, and a twelve pounder cannon sticking out under the back it just wasn't the sort of car he would be seen dead in, dayglo green or not. For that matter, young female dancers have never tried to stop me driving away. Mostly they just gestured rudely. Perhaps I was never that stylish. After all, my car was never dayglo green.
     
    A few years back Peugeot ran a tv ad where a driver of a luxury saloon drove gently down one of those torturous european mountain roads whilst making tire squeal noises verbally. Maybe its just me, but if you drive whilst making such noises yourself, you're either very, very sad, or driving a completely boring car. Given it was a Peugeot luxury saloon, the answer is probably both.
     
    But what luxury saloon could cut it? Mercedes thought they had the answer, and showed one gentleman on a quest for presence ("If you have to search for it, you probably never had it in the first place" - obvious, but true). He sits staring aimlessly out of cafe windows or stands in the middle of road junctions in the pouring rain, leaving me wondering why the local police haven't asked him to move along please. Sadly, he never did find his charismatic Mercedes, and perhaps thats where the advert went wrong. I do hope that gentleman gets some counselling, or even better, a social life.
     
    Thats the trick with car adverts. They sell images. Vauxhall show Hitman 47 in his Omega, staring balefully at the camera to convince all those would be assassins that an Omega is the car of choice. Kia shows a man daydreaming about one of their sporty hatchbacks as if driving under big signs saying 'Desirable' will make you think the car actually is. Vauxhall suggest you should fall in love with motoring again, but how many of us have open desert roads handy?
     
    Sometimes you get silly ads, like the one from Ford where a passing new-model Mondeo entices people to put balloons on their cars and make them float away. Which begs the question - If they don't sell their current car, how can they afford a new Mondeo? How do they escape arrest for endangering aircraft? Do the public know they are being brainwashed by subliminal messages from the Mondeo-in-Grey? I must admit, when a Mondeo passes me, I probably don't notice.
     
    Then again, Vauxhall broke the mould by advertising how practical their cars are, a brave move, suggesting men really can be men without discussing football or notches on the bedpost. The advert showied eight year-old 'adults' admiring each others people-carriers and demonstrating the features of such cars. Just a small point... but.... Do their wives know how young their husbands are? How did these kids get driving licenses? Or is it a subtle suggestion that the child inside you desperately wanrts a pint-sized bus?
     
    All of this leaves those car manufacturers that don't advertise. Some can't afford to, others are so exclusive there's no point because no-one can afford them. Which leaves me staring out the window of cafes at rainy road junctions in my quest for money. If you have to search for it, you probably never had it in the first place. Obvious, but true.
     
    Probably the most obvious thing is that in some way or other we guys all want cars to advertise ourselves.
     
    Police Driver of the Week
    Walking home through West Swindon, I prepared to cross a road that interesects a housing estate. A police car crept forward menacingly nearby. I hesitated, wondering if he was going to accelerate past me, turn right down the side road, or simply leave me guessing. Then, at the last moment, without signalling his intentions, he swerved hard right and continued creeping along down the side road. I know police drivers have had some stick for crashing their cars whilst chasing joyriders at high speed, but that was ridiculous, like watching The Bill in slow motion. Still, the fight against snails with intent to commit crime must continue.
     
  25. caldrail
    I was walking through Lydiard Park on my home from a hike in the country the other day. The weather was officially sunshine and showers, though as it hadn't rained, the ground was pasable and there were some excellent cloudy skies, full of mood and drama. I'd write a poem but lets be honest, I'm not poetic in the slightest, and since a picture tells a thousand words, I took some photo's instead. None of which were any good. C'est la vie.
     
    Anyway, I came round the corner of the house (Open to the public but in thirty years I've never bothered to go in) and sat munching on its latest victim was this enormous great dane, looking absolutely elegant and the very epitome of englishness in the georgian setting of mansion and landscaped grounds.
     
    I asked the lady owner if I could take a photo. She looked a bit suprised, also a bit like she was expecting some sort of chat-up line, but she was happy enoug to let me do so. I made a quip about getting a photo before the dog ate me. I knelt down, set the camera, and the dog got curious. "No no no, stay there!"
     
    To no avail. The great dane trotted across and stared me in the face as only a dog the size of a siberian bear can do. It wasn't wagging its tail, just smelling my face, and I had the curious preminition of losing whatever facial features I had in this animals quest for sustenance.
     
    The owner, bless her, came to my rescue and the dog obediently sat back down where it had been. I got the photo. In actual fact the great dane wasn't being aggressive at all, it was merely curious and none too impressed with me. I'll try to do better next time Fido.
     
    Encounter of the Week
    During my hike through the wilderness of Wiltshire earlier, I passed by two women of mature age who were a little worried about passing a cow stood astride the footpath.
     
    "Its a cow" I told them, "She's more more scared of you."
     
    "Oh" They said, "We thought it might be like a bull"
     
    Groan. Anatomy obviously wasn't taught in their day. As it happened I met them again going the other way later on. I said hello and one of them mentioned it was an amusing coincidence that we were passing again.
     
    "Well I had to," I said, "I was worried the cow might have eaten you."
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