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caldrail

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Blog Entries posted by caldrail

  1. caldrail
    Many years ago I went off one weekend to visit a kit car show. It meant a long journey there and back the same day but I was young, enthusiastic, and totally nuts about cars, or indeed most things that moved courtesy of an internal combustion engine.
     
    Needless to say the main hall was packed full of all sorts of DIY cars. Fun cars, serious cars, wierd cars, and a few that turned out to be infamous money pits. I wandered among replicas of ferrari's and lamborghini's that seemed almost as expensive as the real thing. Salesmen waited in the shadows ready to pounce on unsuspecting members of the public, and I too escaped from one before he ripped my wallet open. He certainly tried hard enough.
     
    Out on the track the owners of these cars roared by in a succession of hamfisted cornering. Deep growling V8's of Shelby cobra replicas, the grand prix shriek of motorcycle engined Caterham clones, and sooner or later, the screetch of tortured tires as the newbie driver got it completely wrong.
     
    Nonetheless I made a huge error of judgement. I was holding an open can of Pepsi. Now the problem wasn't an issue of credibility or manhood, but a target for the local wasps. Here in Swindon wasps are generally shy and retiring. In the vicinity of that race circuit they were evil malicious carnivores hell bent on intimidating any stupid human being they came across.
     
    It wouldn't go away. I moved here, moved there, swiped haplessly at the agile little monster. It just hovered there, staring into my face, trying to mug me of the precious source of sugar. Finally I gave up. Go on, have it. I threw the can in the bin and consider myself lucky to have escaped with my life.
     
    Buzzing About
    Without doubt reicarnation is a real facet of existence on Earth. I know this because She Who Objects To My Internet Use is definitely a reincarnated wasp. She is exactly the same, always buzzing here and there and always glancing over my shoulder hoping to glimpse just one flesh coloured pixel on the computer monitor, always annoying me with her presence. I wish she'd realise that I have no interest in pornography. If she's that interested, why doesn't she browse for some and point energetically at the computer screen? It'll keep her happy.
     
    To be honest I preferred her when she hid in the toilet.
     
    One More Time
    Talking about not going away, learning that Putin just got himself re-elected does not suprise me at all. Interestingly the anarchy of the post-declaration has subsided and Moscow is very quiet today so I gather. Maybe people have made a complaint and now resign themselves to more Adventures Of Putin? I have no idea if the election was actually fair and free, or whether the rumours of tricks and thuggery we normally expect of corrupt african nations have any basis in truth, but the man is back. Maybe he just wants a can of Pepsi?
  2. caldrail
    My boiler still isn't fixed. Okay, I know it's the end of february and the onset of spring promises warmer times, but right now Britain is under the sway of a damp chill. Maybe I'm getting used to cold temperatures? I have no choice. The Job Centre want me to come in this morning for more of their statutory rehabilitation sessions.
     
    On the way I wanderd through the local park. The stonework around the edge of the lake has been well and truly fixed, restored, and now the lake looks full again. Not suprising I suppose, given the amount of rain we've been having this last week. Across the other side, where the old railway tunnel once plunged underneath Swindon Hill, I see the undergrowth has been partially cleared and the first vestige of a path laid.
     
    Oh well, time to go, I've things to do, places to be.
     
    The Significance of Sevenly Things
    Funny how certain numbers seem more important than others. The Druids used to believe '3' was all important. So do competitors in sports, though in fairness, the lower the number the better. '10' gets used a lot. How many times have you seen lists of the 'Best of'? It's almost cliche in its own right. But '7'? Now there's a number.
     
    In the library foyer I spotted a couple of self help books. Each gave seven steps to getting your desired result. Not that I took much notice. Instead I dived into a sci-fi novel while I was waiting for the doors to open and enjoyed the tale of gratuitous sex and violence. Who needs self help if you're packing a pulse pullet railgun and a self-aware intelligent sniper sight?
     
    Oh yes, seven. Why is it I wonder that the seventh son of a seventh son was supposed to be special somehow?
     
    The Big Question
    I caught the end of a program on sunday discussing a big question. Have we been here before? Not the tv channel, or the condition of Briotains economy, but the hugely vital question of whether reincarnation is a reality.
     
    The arguments were predictable. On the one hand, believers waffled on about karma and earning another chance to learn how to drive a car, how to get off with the opposite sex, and pay another lifetime of taxes to the government of your current life.
     
    On the other hand, the realists simply grunted and denounced the whole thing as rubbish. Face it chaps, the grim reaper might not be real, but he gets you in the end nonetheless.
     
    I confess the issue has crossed my mind more than once. As a spiritualist I have little choice but to ponder the significance of it all. Are we living again and again? Some would say that's wishful thinking, yet so many religions try to assuage our fear of death with the promise of some sort of eternity elsewhere.
     
    My own view is that 'life after death' is a stupid concept. Of course there isn't any. Life is what happens here, on this Earth, and to imagine a disembodied you in an ambiguous paradise (or dare I suggest it, a sulphurous pandemonium of torment?) is stretching credibility a little. 'Life after death' no. 'Existence after death' p[erhaps, but my own suspicions are that the experience isn't what we're expecting.
     
    The point is that our ideas about the afterworld are hopelessly mired in our own image. Christianity, along with certain other faiths, shamelessly tell us to behave or suffer. Good people go to paradise. Bad people go to Hell. It's a little contrived, don't you think? Organised religion isn't about spiritual welfare, but exists to organise your behaviour. It's there to tell youy what to believe, and in many cases, what to do. It is, like so many human social structures, designed to impose the will of the few upon the obedient masses.
     
    The universe is like a jigsaw puzzle in terms of understanding. We have some pieces, disjointed bits of colour on awkward shapes, but no picture on the box lid to guide us in putting the bits in place. What organised religion does is shove a pretty picture under your nose and tells you that's how the jigsaw looks. Some of us, myself included, realise the bits of jigsaw in our hand don't exactly fit the picture we've been given.
     
    So do I believe in reincarnation? Well, I admit that I can't help feeling that is does exist. As to how it all works or why it exists, I can't say, and I won't insult your intelligence by suggesting some framework that makes even less sense than governemnt fiscal policy.
     
    Funny thing is, why do we worry about it?
  3. caldrail
    The weather forecast had already warned us of storms crossing Britain late into the night. As luck would have it, I was on a late shift, and that meant walking home during the period when I was most likely to be drenched in minutes or used by nature to light the vicinity when hit by lightning. There was every risk of both, and to be honest, I’ve always had a policy of avoiding such weather conditions by the clever use of indoors. Not last night then.
    One colleague at work told me that storms were already crossing France and would be here in two hours. Really? That would require winds in excess of gale force. There was barely a breeze and whilst thirty odd degrees centigrade isn’t hot by some standards around the globe, for Britain it was sweltering. In any case the winds weren’t from France, but the Atlantic southwest, as usual. Damp air then. Perfect for the odd electrical storm. I have to say working to very high targets in that sort of humid temperature was not for the faint hearted. By the close of shift, I was, as they say, ker-nackered.
    So. Time to go home. Almost as soon as I left the premises the display started. Around the sky flickers of light went off almost continuously, an extraordinary sight and one I found quite weird given not a rumble of thunder could be heard. I could see the mass of storm cells encroaching on Swindon. Sooner or later the rain would start. I wonder? Could I make it to the McDonalds outlet about halfway home without incurring a sudden outbreak of dampness? It worked. I made it to the rest stop barely seconds before the first cloudburst opened up. Perfect. Fast food, dry shelter, and bewildered staff to impress with my knowledge of storms.
    “Ahh” Said one McDonald droid, “it’s stopped. I can go home now.”
    You think? I’m staying here for another hour yet. He chuckled and headed for the door only to be greeted with a huge fork of lightning over the area. Your move mate.
    Cunning Move
    Whilst I was walking to McDonalds I spotted a fox on the other side of the road. Normally at that distance they either don’t care, or find a more discreet place to be. This one simply hunkered down. I know mate, it is warm isn’t it?
    Howls Of Badgers
    Badgers are the quietest of animals. They snuffle around, usually looking happy as Larry, but a week or two ago I encountered one on a footpath going home. Badgers aren’t the most alert of creatures. I’ve often walked very close to them before they realised I was there, but always they scarper, and scarper quickly they can. This one saw me coming and hooted very loudly. Wow. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard a badger. A born sergeant major that one.
    Big Beetles
    On the outskirts of an industrial estate I saw movement on the road, again lat at night. This was a black beetle, alarmingly huge. Two or three inches long, much larger than anything I’ve seen plodding around British countryside. This one was not only large, but fast too, scurrying around like demon possessed. A foreign import off a lorry? We don’t usually get beetles like that outside of zoos.
    Boris Of The Week
    This week’s star prize goes to our new Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, who takes over from Theresa May today. There’s a sort of inevitable aspect to his new found glory. Can he sort out the mess and get a deal on Brexit past the hordes of British MP’s determined to frustrate the British public’s decision to leave Europe? The battlefield is the same as it’s been for three years and cost May her job. Who knows, perhaps the outsize beetle was an omen. Perhaps the gods welcomed Boris with a spectacular lightning display. Somehow I doubt he got rained on last night.
  4. caldrail

    Thunder & Roars

    By caldrail,

    I'm not by nature a couch potato, but let's face it, every so often the urge to sit slack-jawed in front of a television gets the better of us. By saturday night, I too was in couch potato mode. Even the energy drink I was sipping from made no difference. I just couldn't be bothered.
     
    The trouble with television on a saturday night is that it seems to be designed for people who have embarrasingly low IQ scores or lack the skills to socialise. It's almost as if media companies don't want people to sit in on a saturday night, because they then have to pay staff to maintain services who would rather be out socialising than catering for couch potatoes. Hey, I pay for thuis service, you know?
     
    Enough of my griping. Eventually I settled on watching the news channel. That was about the only thing worth watching. A general tells us that the campaign in Libya has achievable goals... Glad to hear that. It's rather an expensive way to give pilots some target practice. Then there's news of more trouble in Syria.... It's a wonder we're not bombing them too. Oh... I forgot... Defence cuts.
     
    Then we got to the weather report. heat wave? What heat wave? The cheery fellow pointed at the map to red circles with absurdly high temperatures. What on earth is going on?
     
    Sunday morning I found out. Leaving the house mid-morning I walked into a wall of hot air. It was baking hot out there. This morning is no different. Baking hot out there still. However, the news is that this sudden burst of tropical temperatures is about to come crashing to an end with thunderstorms predicted for tonight and tomorrow. I 'll bet the weatherman is smiling about that too.
     
    Man Fights Lion
    I've just watched a video of a man getting into a cage and attempting to take on a fully grown male lion in a large cage, while members of the public look on. He went in with shield and staff, poking the lion, who was clearly more interested in a siesta than ripping this idiot apart. Nonetheless, the prodding did upset the lion a tad. Well it would, wouldn't it?
     
    As it happens the irritated lion tried to paw the mans stave away and stayed in the corner where it wanted a kip. I have to say, as beast fights go, the Romans were somewhat better at it. But then again, they didn't have to contend with animal rights groups.
     
    Fact is though this was more of a political stunt, and if I were honest, treating a lion in this manner isn't really what I want to see. Do I think highly of the man for braving the threat of an angry wild cat, a ferocious heavyweight lion? No, not really. After all, following the video of an infant giggling by a glass window as a lionness tried to attack him from the other side, it all seems very much part of the human condition.
     
    That said, the urge to grab a sword and take on the local ginger tom doesn't manifest itself either.
  5. caldrail

    Pans Labyrinth

    By caldrail,

    There's a recent spanish film caled Pans Labyrinth. For those who haven't seen it, its about a young girl in spain in 1944, at the end of the civil war, struggling to cope with reality and immersing herself in fantasy. At the end of the film, its impossible to know whether she was deluded or really the princess in exile. Its a film that doesn't baulk at showing violence and human nastiness, and one with some haunting visuals. The quality of the film is excellent.
     
    You know, I sometimes wonder if there's a little of the Pans Labyrinth in each of us. We all interpret the world around us, and some have what seems to me some very strange perceptions of how the world is.
     
    One for instance is that as I'm an unemployed person then I must be wothless and useless. I gave my CV (resume) to one company, listing all the achievemnets and higher profile jobs I've undertaken in the last five years, showing a consistent level of competence and responsibility.
     
    So I get a phone call from that one company asking me if I'd like to consider a part-time job labouring in unsocial hours.
     
    Have I imagined the last five years?
     
    Veteran Car of the Week
    Goes to an Alvis convertible sports car of fifties vintage. Good condition, still used as someones daily drive, and looking fantastic in maroon paint with that well-used patina. I'm sure the reality of driving a car like that would be a nightmare, so whoever owns it must regard it as a labour of love. But its great to see an old girl still going strong!
  6. caldrail

    Hello World

    By caldrail,

    Hello World, my old friend, I've come to talk to you again. 
    I write this not from the Library (who stubbornly refuse to open despite everybody else trying to restore some normailty to their lives) but a pokey little internet cafe which I might have to frequent more often. But it means I can say hello to the survivors of our post apocalyptic world, assuming I'm not being over optimistic.
    A Floating Map
    A visit some while ago to my local park was a peaceful scene. Nobody about at all, given Swindon was in lockdown back then. Out on the lake, I spotted a mass of algae on the water, shaped remarkably like England, Wales, and Scotland. The resemblance was uncanny. Right. That's it. Anecdote over. That didn't hurt did it?
    Bye For Now
    Haven't got time to do a proper blog entry but memoirs of my covid experience will follow eventually. Why not? The BBC have been broadcasting everybodies elses. And on the subject of the BBC, yes, the exam result fiasco is a mess. We got that. It isn't news any more. Move on. Please.
  7. caldrail

    Goodbye to the Shed

    By caldrail,

    Thats it, my last day in the shed. Big H was friendly and almost engaged us in conversation! Especially with AD, who he never forgave for comparing a sheepdog as his dad. First time those two have spoken in twelve months.
     
    I notice an english teacher got arrested in Sudan for allowing kids to name a bear 'Mohammed'. I get called names all the time but no-one arrests them. I'd shout back at them but under british justice the poor dears would get me arrested for breaching their peace. On the news last night they reported that in numerical memory tests chimpanzees beat human beings. Comes as no suprise to me. I get demonstrations of human intelligence every Saturday night.
     
    Conspiracy Theory of the Week
     
    Apparently this year the humble hedgehog has been observed in huge numbers - particularly for this time year. Its proof of Global Warming I tell you. They're thriving on our sub-tropical winters and unleaded fuel. Nothing stops them, not even their carbon footprints. We now know they breed faster in wet weather too, because the July Floods forced them out of their little hidey holes and made them to act together to survive. Don't laugh, you have been warned... The Hedgehogs Are Coming!
  8. caldrail

    Fat and Angry Cats

    By caldrail,

    A couple of years ago, I watched a tv news report about some idiot in New York who kept wild animals in his apartment. Amongst the exotic beasts was a full grown tiger. Hard to believe, but there it was, on screen.
     
    A policeman was lowered on ropes down the outside of the block to administer a tranquilizer dart through the window. Understandably, police were reluctant to enter the apartment with a live carnivorous cat in a hungry mood. The big cat charged at the window and scared the policeman witless, but it was darted and everything was happy ever after.
     
    In this instance camera was too far away. You could see the head appear at the window. You could even see the open jaws, but so far away, it was lacking the excitement the hanging policeman must have felt.
     
    Thing is, we all know how dangerous these cats are but we never see how dangerous they are. Sure, a wild-life program shows them strutting their stuff and taking down a herbivore effortlessly. It looks so bloodless and quick. I do remember one shot of a big cat tackling a warthog and discovering that not all herbivores are easily killed. In that incident, the cat was thrown into the air and decided a retreat was advisable.
     
    Yesterday, on one of those awful 'amazing video' programs, I saw something about tigers I didn't expect. A tigeress and her cubs had escaped from a zoo, and local rangers were searching on the backs of elephants for the cat that had killed cattle in the area. Her cubs had already been caught, leaving the mother frustrated and angry. The Rangers saw it but the cat went to ground in long grass.
     
    The elephant was spooked. It was unhappy about proceeding. Then the tiger appeared out of nowhere, coming out of the grass at a run, looking up at the rider and darting to the side to avoid the elephant. It was quickly in position for a leap at the rider who sat front of the cameraman. Almost right in front of the camera, it lifted twelve feet into the air to attack him. It dug its claws into the man's abdomen and bit his left hand severely before running off. Clearly it meant to pull the rider off the elephant and kill him.
     
    The footage was stunning. This was a full on attack by an angry tigress and the sheer power of it was very impressive. Wonderful animals, an endangered species we really ought to protect, but one you treat with a great deal of respect.
     
    Fat Cat of the Week
    Amongst the fat cats getting the squeeze in the economic downturn is a boss in the Royal Bank of Scotland, whose
  9. caldrail
    Today is not a good day. And the subject of my woe? That's an interestng question in itself. It ought to be about my car, the Eunos Cabriolet slowly disintegrating with a little help from a vandal or two. Reason being that it's gone. Vanished. Disappeared.
     
    I mean, did someone ctually bother to steal it? You couldn't just drive it away. But gone it most certainly has, snatched away more or less from under my nose yesterday afternoon.I only realised it was gone late into the evening. I doubt it was stolen to be used. Maybe the alloy wheels paid for a snort of suspicious substances? Who knows?
     
    One has to wonder at the attitude of the police. Frequently they tell us to report crime and be proactive in preventing it, yet the response I get is baffling. Last night, as I attempted to call the local police station, the officer I spoke suggested I investigate the crime myself. He seriiously said that, though I should point out that policemen are notorious in Britain for taking the mick out of the public in this way when it suits them.
     
    "There you are, see?" He prodded me, "You do have lines of enquiry."
     
    Oh? Is that so? Can you imagine how successful I'm going to be at solving the Case of the Missing Eunos? All I'll get is mystified looks and shrugs. So why the self-help course from PC Plod? Was he in a bad mood that night? Am I on some list of people to send on wild goose chases? Was it my own sorry fault for purchasing a slightly sporty car in the first place? Or does standard policy in dealing with worthless dole claimants render us ineligible for receiving the benefits of law enforcement? Goood grief, is this some covert attempt by our local sheriff to run me out of town?
     
    I should be worried. Instead I'm shaking my head.
     
    Tackle The Metal Thieves
    Not all bad news it seems. Todays local newspaper tells me that police are determined to catch metal thieves. The theft of metals, including lead, copper pipes and cables, remains a concern throughout the county and can have a significant effect on homeowners, businesses, schools,, places of worship, and public buildings.
     
    Hmmm... Seems not all policemen have been reading their emails.
     
    It'll Get Better
    the current catchphrase is regeneration. Everything about Swindon is regeneration these days. backers of all these developments are proudly telling us how great it will be in the future. Except... It won't... Because Swindon still has the same thieves in afterward.
  10. caldrail

    Nothing New

    By caldrail,

    I hear the news that one of the local pubs has reopened for business. Not, as you might imagine, because of a swarm of drunkards making an appearance after midnight, but because it was reported in our local newspaper.
     
    These days it isn't enough to simply paint a silly sign and open the doors to the general public. Commerce demands that the pub is able to attract customers. In this case the pub has decided to sell 'historic food'. Again this isn't what you might suspect. By 'historic' they mean reproductions of menus dating back to the 1600's, not what was left in the freezer from last year.
     
    That is nonetheless a fascinating idea. How much has food changed since 1600? They certainly didn't eat cornflakes for breakfast back then. Not so long ago I stumbled across a menu from the 1700's that was served by a pub in Marlborough. That made interesting reading. Most of the stuff listed was more or less what you can buy today although cooked in a much more straightforward manner without foreign vegetables or spices. The prices betrayed a certain trend toward serving the gentry passing through the town. Servants meals were considerably cheaper.
     
    I wonder what the difference was? Did the servants actually get lower quality food, or yesterdays left-overs, or was this simply a means of extracting cash from a gentleman's purse?
     
    What Do We Do With Them?
    Swindon's love affair with crumbling old buildings continues. Our local newsletter continues to moan about the continued existence of the abandoned Old College. Scandalous, they call it. Typical more like.
     
    What about the Mechanics Institute? If anything qualifies as a historic building, surely that does? Half the roof is missing to foestall a collapse and nobody seems able to to do anything with the site.
     
    Now the same situation is developing with the Locarno, a building dating back to 1852 which suffered a fire some years ago. Not quite the same eyesore as the other two buildings perhaps, but apparently there's been a number of planning requests made to the council, none of which result in anything being done.
     
    What is going on in this town? As much as we'll probably hate the result of action being taken on these sites and despairing of the commercial motives to changing the buildings use, but why can't anything be agreed between developrs and council officials? Do they want Swindon to look ruined?
     
    What Does Wootton Bassett Do Now?
    In the news is the imminent royal visit to Wootton Bassett. Also turning up is David Cameron apparently. With the change in arrival point of repatriated dead from foreign wars away from Lyneham airbase, Wooton Bassett will no longer get all the media attention and today the impending celebration of the towns significance is local news.
     
    I'm not blind and deadf to the sacrifice of those who served in the British Armed Forces, but there's a part of me that remains suspicious about the way the return of these dead men is being exploited. Soldiers have been killed in little wars or security operations for as long as I can remember, and I'm sure they suffered casualties before I was born. So in that respect, what has changed?
     
    It seems to me that whilst the good people of Wootton Bassett turned out to pay respect to the fallen regularly, this idea that the town is somehow worthy is simply a matter of circumstance. The town just happened to be on the route between the airbase where the transport landed and where the bodies were being taken. I don't remember anywhere being used in this fashion before.
     
    Using military virtue for political ends isn't a new idea at all. As much as I commend our lads for the work they do, I cannot help feel that so much of this circus in Wootton Bassett has been deliberately stage managed. Frankly I don't care which town the bodies travel through, or that royals and politicians will be there to celebrate the lines of mourners. I'm sure any town in England would respond similarly to the arrival of the fallen.. I do care that people are dying out there in some dusty hellhole. If the war is meant to achieve anything, surely we should be celebrating success where the operation is going on?
     
    It does beg the question - What will the town of Wootton Bassett do now their part in the war is over? Apparently it's going to be a stage for media events. I'm sure those respectful citizens of a small wiltshire town will be thrilled to know they've made a politician look good.
  11. caldrail
    As I draw ever closer to the day when recording my new album becomes a necessity, so the desire to be ready for it drives me on. I learned to play guitar in my early twenties though I have to confess I was never particularly talented or technically proficient - just good enough to embarass specialist players at my level - especially since I was a drummer by trade. Mostly I just embarassed myself.
     
    Nonetheless it's been twenty years since I played guitar anything like seriously, so in order to save myself from further embarrasement, I must practice. Practice makes perfect you see. They say you never really forget a skill once you've learned it. Clearly they've never played guitar. I'm discovering that re-learning the fingering you used to do as a matter of course in your younger days takes a lot of hard work when you're not so young any more. Just ask my neighbours.
     
    What makes a comparison between then and now imore difficult is that the emphasis of my guitaring has changed. That definitely is the result of my age. I'll listen to stuff now that I would have ignored back then.
     
    There was a pub called the Cornflower which regularly hosted live music. It's still there even if the music isn't, and me and my drinking buddy GS used to pop down on the off chance they were any good. If we saw a tambourine, we left immediately. It was the done thing to do. A local promoter by the name of RK once spoke to us and said that the band on that night were brilliant. He learned something from them every gig. Yeah? Really?
     
    GS and I left the premises. The band were okay, sort of, but mostly it was the two extrovert frontmen that kept any real interest while they swung off chandeliers, sat on rafters, and other shenanigans on stage. RK heard my comments on learning nothing from them as I left and that propbably sankl my chances of local success. C'est la vie.
     
    On one occaision I got to play the Cornflower myself. This was a semi-pro band called Bardiche which I functioned in as drummer-manager. The gig was the first outing of our new vocalist. It was an important local gig. We needed to impress. So I ordered a light show, PA, and just about anything I could think of to make that vital impression on what I knew was going to be a fickle audience.
     
    RK had done the dirty. My PA and light show was cancelled. The night before I managed to secure another PA system but we still had the smoke machine from the council arts department. I instructed JS, our roadie, to switch on and off at my command. He nodded that he understood. That was a mistake. Roadies do not understand. If they did, they would be playing out on stage, not running errands for band members. But I didn't know that then.
     
    The gig went underway and we were doing fine. When the moody guitar solo started, I signalled for smoke. JS obligingly thumbed up and thick grey fog exuded from the funnel like the exhalation of some giant fire breathing monster. Realising we were going to set off fire alarms, I signalled JS to stop. He grinned and thumbed up. NO! Stop it you foo;!
     
    We got told off. by the pub staff. At least we got paid, even if the audience couldn't see their pints in front of them. I don't ever want to have to rely on stage sets and effects again. Unfortunately that means I have to become proficient at my guitar all over again.
     
    Bryan Adams - you have absolutely no idea mate.
     
    Sun And Fun of the Week
    Good grief. It's getting seriously warm out there. We Swindoners aren't adapted for this level of sunshine. There are things I need to do, like searching for gainful employment, or shopping, or practising guitar... But it's sunny out there. Nnnnnnnnn gah! I'm sorry. Temptation is too much. Stop the world, I want to get tanned.
  12. caldrail

    Ma Africa

    By caldrail,

    Africa - Land of the future's gold
    Land is for everybody young and old
    The place that holds a single bright future
    But what happens when the future turns to torture?
    Ma' Africa
    What went wrong with your brains?
    You kill each other into strife and no human dignity
    Africa - Lets stand together
    And make Africa the Land of Hope
     
    Ma' Africa From the album 1 Giant Leap (2001)
     
    Africa is such a place of contrast. Great natural wealth and beauty, a place where children play joyfully in the face of appalling poverty, and yet the same place where another child will point his AK47 and blow your head off. For some it holds a special mystique - but not for me I'm afraid. I see Africa as it is, a disunited continent blown by the winds of foreign intervention and an inability to mature as a culture.
     
    The events in Zimbabwe have brought this into focus again. A nation prosperous under colonial rule and its succesors has been almost bankrupted by the regime of a man who wants to rule absolutely, a man who exploits racial envy to achieve popularity despite leading his nation into commercial disaster. Inflation at 100,000%. Seriously. New banknotes for Five Hundred Million Zimbabwean Dollars are worth fifty british pence! Events in Africa are following trends that another region once suffered, a very long time ago.
     
    Britain was a land of celtic tribesmen when the romans arrived. It was conquered but never fully romanised. Eventually the romans had to leave our shores and told Britain to take care of itself. Within fifty years Britain descended into anarchy, under pressure from foreign incursion and would remain so for hundreds of years until the Norman Conquest. The return to prosperity took centuries too as the British became a more sophisticated mature nation.
     
    When the colonial powers left Africa (or were ousted), the nations left behind so easily turned on themselves. It occurs to me that what we are witnessing in our lifetime is the early African Dark Ages. There may well be generations of 'strife and no human dignity' yet to come before the africans resolve their differences enough to generate the future they often wish for.
     
    There's also something else that worries me greatly. Our own Prime Minister wanted power for a long time. He wasn't popular enough so his predecessor won the election for him, then passed power to him. Our economy is slowly grinding to a halt. Worst still, this Prime Minister refuses to go to the polls - and I suspect he won't until he really has no choice but to.
     
    Does all this sound familiar?
     
  13. caldrail

    Hail and Horns

    By caldrail,

    There's nothing like lazing in a hot bath. Now that I'm on metered water it's become a luxury, yet the pleasure of lying in hot water and just relaxing for an hour is great. So last night I followed the usual ritual and slid into the water with a satisified sigh.
     
    Outside all was not well. The weather reports had warned of showers but what followed sounded like I was under siege. The heavens opened and down came hail, rattling and pinging on the roofs arund the bathroom like incessant arrow fire. I knew the house was a sturdy shelter against ice falling from the sky, but the sound echoes oddly and half the time it sounds like it's coming through the roof and bouncing around indoors.
     
    That was pretty savage for a british hailstorm. Mostly we get short spurts, indifferent little pellets that sting annoyingly when they find their target. Most often it's mixed with rain and never lasts long. Yesterdays assault went for ten minutes. Good grief.!
     
    Bump
    I've just watched the video for that alarming crash by Allan McNish at the Le Mans 24Hr. For those who haven't seen it, McNish clips another car and slides off the track and across the gravel trap, hitting the guard barrier with such force the car lifts into the air spinning as it dismantles itself.
     
    Such things can happen in motor races. It only takes a little nudge to spoil a cars balance. At high speed, reacting and coping with sudden unexpected forces tests the best racing driver and even they often cannot react quick enough.
     
    Walking back from Commonhead a few days ago I heard a horn sounding on the dual carriageway in the distance behind me. Probably someone moved across without careful observation. Actually that would have been much the same cause as the Le mans crash although in this case no more than tempers were frayed.
     
    Then a bunch of cars passed me. The dual carriageway is speed restricted these days but no-one seems to have told the driver of a silver Ford Focus. He was determined to push through the knot of cars come what may. Again he blasted his horn, squeezing between vehcles moving at the speed limit with very little margin for error.
     
    Now I do admit I've driven cars speedily in my younger days, but never like that! If the road is blocked, it's blocked. Actually it does remind me of one time when I drove into Wales for a day out in the Black Hills. On a nearly empty dual carriageway I overtook a slower car properly and and at legal speed. A BMW behind me decided he wanted to get by. With a low sun blinding my mirrors I had to be a little patient before pulling back into the slow lane - didn't want to cause an accident - but the BMW pushed past me on the right virtually scraping the central barrier.
     
    Bearing in mind what I saw in that visddeo, it's a bit thought provoking how a little impatience can create dangerous situations.
  15. caldrail
    Something's wrong. I know something is wrong. Part of me thinks this might be paranoia, yet I cannot escape the evidence of the light through the bedroom curtains. It looks distinctly un-sunny. Oh no!
     
    My worst fears were confirmed as I glanced bleary eyed out the back window. A grey, overcast day, with a sombre mood. How strange! Normally it rains on a Bank Holiday Monday but all we got was blistering sunshine. What it must have been like trapped in a traffic jam with a family of bored kids whilst slowly melting in your five-star safety rating oven on wheels is anyones guess. Sounds like my idea of hell.
     
    How To Enjoy The Royal Wedding
    Of course the reason that our sunny weather is evaporating and normal dreary dampness restored is because of the Royal Wedding. What national event in Britain could possibly take place without a deluge?
     
    Just now I looked at a news item that tells the world where to enjoy the Royal Wedding. The list of places was predictable and uninspired, being restricted to public parks, medieval castles, or stood with all the other punters along the route. Failing that of course there's always YouTube. The royal family have booked a page to delight us all with talking corgi's and stumbles.
     
    I think we need to show more imagination as a country. Surely there's more exciting and interesting places to watch the wedding from? Certainly not afghan prisons, as the timely escape of Al Qaida inmates shows. Certainly not Ireland, with dissident terrorists plotting to reduce the wedding to the status of a war crime.
     
    I know. Let's not watch it at all and go instead for a holiday in some remote exotic locale? After all, with everyone converging on London for the practice of the Queens Funeral, surely there's some good deals going down at travel agents?
     
    Departing Live
    As if the Royal Wedding wasn't bad enough, I see there's plans to show a man dying live on television. Please forgive me for being a bit of a party pooper here, but I really do have better things to watch.
  16. caldrail

    Law And Order

    By caldrail,

    "Cooo-eee!"
     
    Huh? What? Hey, I'm just stood at a pedestrian crossing minding my own business in my usual semi-comatosed state.
     
    "It's me!" Said a young woman who clearly knew me. I think I was supposed to know who she was. Oh hang on... Finally I realised who she was. Mr J's girlfriend, the human pinball. Here we go again...
     
    To my astonishment she was sober and behaving in a normal friendly manner. I don't think I've met her in that condition before. When slightly inebriated she describes herself as a female Vince Noir, an odd idea seeing as she's nowhere near as androgynous as the Mighty Boosh character. If I were brutally honest, she hasn't anything like the same style or fashion sense either, but don't tell her I said so. Just in case.
     
    So we had a little chat in which I learned about the dramatic events surrounding her confrontation with Mr J's former girlfriend. You see, this is why I can't be bothered with television soap operas. Who needs them? I get updates on all the same pointless intrigue and violence out here in the real world.
     
    Thing is, when we blokes get miffed at each other, it's easily settled. A loud shouting match, possibly with an exchange of threats and pointing fingers, or if worse comes to the worse a few punches back and forth until honour is satisfied or someone goes to hospital. No problem.
     
    Women are different. I do admit that loud shouting matches are common, but instead of an entertaining cat-fight, they turn into witches, vampires, or martial arts experts. You know what I mean. In this case however all that happened was a spilt drink. Disappointed...
     
    Make My Day
    Last night the next film in the Clint Eastwood series was aired. I'm not a huge fan of his work but what the heck, there was nothing else on. So I sat down to watch The Gauntlet, a film about a cop and his female prisoner taking a death defying trek across Arisona for truth, justice, and the american chase movie.
     
    I've never seen the film before and boy oh boy did I enjoy it. Not for the typical wisecracks, glimpses of the leading ladies mammary glands, or the slightly lesbian scene in whch they got exposed, but the hilarious gaffs in the films plot.
     
    Okay, I can't resist it. This was typical. Hero has avoided ambush and holes up in a cave overnight. Along come some Hell's Angels the next morning quite by chance. Hero sends them packing with a display of bravado (and a big pistol), forcing a few to walk away and leave their treasured Harley Davidson behind. Hero and Prisomer then have an exciting chase scene with a gangland sniper in a helicopter (which was hardly the most suitable place to shoot accurately from, but the hero was supposed to survive).
     
    Once the helicopter had collided with the scenery in the time honoured ball of flame, the hero and his prisoner hitch a ride on a passing freight train only to discover the boxcar was already occupied by three pedestrian Hell's Angels who were slightly miffed at losing their treasured motorbike. Call me suspicious, but how did three pedestrians in the middle of the Arizona desert catch up with the other two on a speeding motorbike ridden hell for leather in what appears to be the opposite direction?
     
    If that wasn't bad enough, the finale featured the presence of pretty much the entire Pheonix police force who stood around gormless and passive once they had emptied their weapons at the hero's borrowed bus, while the main characters shot each other like The Gunfight At The OK Policemen's Ball.
     
    Certainly entertaining. Especially the slightly lesbian bit.
     
    Buck Privates
    Privatise the police? Is that seriously what our government is planning? Good grief we'll be running away from Robocop and ED209 next. And charged two pounds fifty plus VAT for each bullet and cannon shell fired at us. It's the British way.
  17. caldrail

    Whats In A Name?

    By caldrail,

    What is it about Christmas? All of a sudden the town center is full of people ambling about clogging up the pavement. Millions of them. They're everywhere. Where do these people come from? Is there a warehouse somewhere that stores them until the festive season? Are our motorways clogged every year by mass distribution of shoppers?
     
    Someone in town called out to me. I couldn't see who it was given the swarms of shoppers sweeping majestically across the road. She used my real name which is something increasingly rare these days. Omitting the usual taunts and insults, I've been called Gary, Paul, and Alan. UT of course has called me Alfie. At my previous job, there was a jovial woman of afro-carribean origin we shall know as Miss J, who for some unknown reason decided my name was Alfred, a name which stuck and became my nickname there. I asked Miss J why she called me that. She said - "You look like an Alfred". Ask a stupid question.
     
    So as usual, I enter the office to collect paperwork for the days stock check. "Sooooo.... Alfred..." She would say as soon as she spotted me, and then she would ask personal questions right in front of the assembled staff going about their business. Did I detect some interest here? I did indeed, and for the period of my stay there my boss, DS, considered me betrothed. Don't get me wrong, Miss J is a friendly sort, but you know how something raises hairs on the back of your neck? Ok, I've no reason to believe she's a cannibal, nor is she an axe-murderess, nor does she keep giant mutant spiders as pets. So why did DS smile mischievously whenever Miss J wiggled at me?
     
    Strange Goings On In Rushey Platt
    Up until now I always doubted Santa existed. Not any more. Today I spotted one of his minions, a green clad elf in a blue van, driving through Rushey Platt. I gave him a salute, and he returned a big smiley grin. Now I know. The North Pole is a clever ruse to put investigators off the scent. The real location of Santa's HQ is Rushey Platt. Ideally placed in central southern England with easy access to the motorway. I have a horrible feeling I once worked in his grotto without realising. It would explain a few things...
     
    STOP PRESS!!
    Santa has been spotted! Yes, its true, he was seen just now obtaining money from a hole in the wall machine. I knew I was right. That means he must have parked the sleigh somewhere near here.... But not at the car dealer with a Ferrari 360 in the rough part of town. Apparently I can come back when I've got
  18. caldrail

    Bruised Ego's

    By caldrail,

    I woke this morning to discover that bruises have a life of their own. Sounds strange? Well, the bruise obtained in my argument with a door the day before has now migrated from a large lump over my eye to a black ring around it. Oh no. I have a black eye. I look like like I've done ten rounds with Mike Tyson, though in all fairness, experts would probably note I only have one bruise thus did not last beyond one punch. Doors are tough opponents.
     
    What bothers me though is that I nearly achieved a fifty year unroken record for not getting a black eye. Now look. I'm the same as everyone else, except that I wasn't drunk when it happened.
     
    Will They Or Won't They?
    The tension was mounting. Would the department store ring me or not? Would I be offered a fast paced and rewarding career in furniture removals, or be cast aside as a worthless loser by high street consumerism?
     
    This is nailbiting stuff. A failure brings a risk of further humiliation from the Job Centre, who have already sent me another accusation that I didn't apply for an offered vacancy. They don't ask whether you applied or not. The office have no record of it, so you haven't. Please grovel, apologise, and make some useless explanation before they decide to stop your money.
     
    They've done this sort of thing before. No matter. The form is sent off, along with evidence of application and one of ny trademark 'irate citizen' letters. Actually, humour aside, this sort of things bothers me immensely. English law is supposed to based on the principle that you're innocent until proven guilty. Apparently no-one told the Department of Work & Pensions about that.
     
    tThe Finale To Caldrails Big Interview
    The votes are in, the phone lines are closed, and now the golden envelope is passed to be read out in front of the audience... Todays winner of Department Store Recruit of the Year 2011 is.... Not me. Not invited to the induction. Do not pass Go, do not collect
  19. caldrail

    From The Top

    By caldrail,

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

    Another Great Day

    By caldrail,

    Without wishing to sound like a tired old blues singer, I woke up this morning. After almost four years of unemployment I consider that a demonstration of my self discipline and work ethic. Hmmm... Let's see... What shall I do today?
     
    As it happens I woke up this morning to a bright sunny day. There's a very lazy feel about the town as I stroll down to the library, quite unlike a typical monday morning, and the streets are much less busy than usual. Knowing the british as I do, I wouldn't be suprised if half the residents of this area have looked out of the window and decided to phone in sick.
     
    My speculation was cruelly dashed when I discovered half the residents of this area were sat upstairs in the library before I got there. Come on people, have you not got things to do? It's a bright sunny day out there. Oh well. Since I can't nip onto a computer immediately I'll just book one for later - it's not as if I've got anything to do today...
     
    Huh? What the?...Suspended.?
     
    Oh brilliant. Time then to go to the helpdesk and ask the librarian for assistance. This particular one doesn't like my title and not suprisingly she asked me to wait while she dealt with the other customer first. The pair of them then tried to achieve the impossible by getting the photocopier to do something other than it's makers programmed it to understand. They were having a great time.
     
    Having defeated the evil photocopier and with the world made safe once more, she turned her attention t my small problem. It turns out I wasn't guilty of any crime or misdemeanour, but rather that the computer administrators don't seem to understand that some people don't move house every year or so. Having confirmed my address and my account reactivated, I booked my slot and that left me with two hours to kill. Hmmm... Let's see.... What shall I do this morning?
     
    Idea Of The Week
    Young L was talking about public transport, a rare diversion from reciting the script of every Top Gear episode from the last decade, and finaly, having thought about it, he said "Sometimes I think I'd like to get on a bus and see where it takes me."
     
    His thirst for adventure is admirable but I as far as I'm aware, bus drivers have to follow a set route and usually end up back where they started. Come on L, get a life, it's a great day. Now if you'll excuse me I booked a couple of hours on a library computor.
  21. caldrail
    I was fascinated by a documentary aired a couple of nights ago. A teenager in 1997 discovered a fossil in North Dakota, which turned out to be an extremely important find, because the creature was mummified and soft tissue had survived. It was a hadrosaur, a common grazing animal living in wetlands (the area found was once a wide river near the inland sea that once split north america in two during the cretaceous period).
     
    The reamins were not complete, and a large portion had gone missing (eaten?), and a further suprise was the discovery of an unlucky crocodile lodged in the carcass. Unfortunately, the main body could not be succesfully scanned with x-rays because the rock was too dense, so work continues, but its noticeable that the amount of soft tissue meant that modern reconstructions of dinosaur skeletons are incorrect - the vertebrae need to be spaced out more and the length of these animals needs to be increased by around 5%. Colour does appear to important to dinosaurs - the relative sizes of scales on their bodies suggest different patches of colour as modern reptiles do.
     
    What annoyed me though was the typical modern documentary style. After every commercial break, the voice-over re-introduced the program saying exactly the same things - and we saw the same computer generated imagery repeatedly. Please - tell me something.... Anything.... I know the teenager found it, you said five times already.... Please... Aww no, not the 'falling over dead' sequence again.... I won't mind if you prove they smoked cigarettes and became extinct because of lung cancer.... Just for something original....
     
    This program suffered from one major flaw - they didn't have enough to say to fill an hour.
  22. caldrail
    Weathermen do love it when things get interesting. Our current spell of fine weather is about to end, and as always, the man on tv grinned mightily as he warned of impending wind and rain. Okay, okay, I heard you the first time, change the cript, please...
     
    Today is still sunny. A bit cooler though, and actually the breeze is quite chilly.
     
    I was strolling along the local high street on my to the programme centre. A young woman in a red car swerved across in front me, mounting the pavement like it was her own driveway. Excuse me? You're blocking the pavement?
     
    "Pardon?" She asked whilst doing more important things like retrieving her handbag from the car's interior.
     
    "You're going to have to move the car." I suggested.
     
    "Sorry but I can't park there." She answered, pointing at a dayglo yellow traffic cone as she nipped into the nearby office. What? Is that supposed to be an excuse for breaking the Highway Code? Block the pavement and obstruct pedestrians because someone obstructed her desired parking spot?
     
    I pity her partner. I really do.
     
    Coat Of Arms
    Occaisionally I pass a newsagent and more often than not a billboard with the newspaper headline is displayed outside to attract punters. If only they wouldn't use headlines months..
     
    One headline I spotted this morning, which is probably old news to anyone who actually bought a copy of the newspaper, is that Penhill wants its own coat of arms. For those that don't know, that's a heraldic crest. Not content with housing most of the drug dealing layabout vandals in Swindon, or forcing taxi drivers to ban fares into that area, or have delivery drivers refuse to enter the downtrodden streets, they want independence.
     
    I don't know why they need to ask. Their residents have been marking walls with any number of heraldic crests for years.
  23. caldrail

    The Big key Debate

    By caldrail,

    We don't own the Shed we work in. No, we rent it, at a stupid price, from NF the site manager. NF wants us out of the Shed so he could squeeze us in with all our pallets in the Hangar, and rent the Shed to someone else at an even stupider price. Which sort of backfired a little because we're shortly to move down the road to rent warehouse space from a professional company at a stupider price still.
     
    Now I turn up for work one morning. I have to walk through the Hangar to reach the yard, but found the back door locked up. So I went into the office and enquired, only to be told that no-one had any idea who I was and until they did, no access allowed. I've been working here for months! They folded their arms.
     
    Well after some irate words and emails and phone calls, I was finally allowed to use the key to the back door, which I could obtain from Security, a pleasant old chap at the front gate who reminisces about his pet rat (deceased) and has an encyclopaedic knowledge of rechargeable batteries.
     
    Now I turn up for work one morning. The key had gone! Vanished! Nowhere to be found!
     
    Ok, off to the office to enquire. Go find SB they tell me, he's got it. Why? Oh never mind. As chance would have it SB is forklifting pallets around the Hangar and I ask him for the key. "Its open." he shrugs, and drives off.
     
    Ok, off to the office to complain. NF decides its time to have this out, so a little later he approaches me in the back yard. "Why do you need the key? Is it really important?"
     
    Pardon? Yes says I, its a matter of principle, its a matter of security, its a matter of access, its.... And so on, until NF decided that a confrontation wasn't worth the tonguelashing. One key, duly delivered. They used to do this to AD, but apparently he got his way by breaking open the fire escape every time.
     
    And the second time the key vanished from Security? Found in someones car.
     
    Career Move of the Week
    JD is a young lady who joined us because her previous job was too quiet. After four months at Head Office she's now leaving her current job too, this time because its even quieter. Apparently everyone sat next to each other in that office communicate by email only. At least I have an excuse. I'm eighty miles away.
  24. 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...
  25. caldrail
    It's a funny thing about storms. I mean, if it rains, there's every chance you'll get wet. No matter how careful you are with watching weather reports or how many folklore rhymes you recall, wet weather is out to get you. I speak from bitter experience.
     
    But storms? Almost invariably you're indoors when they announce their presence. Niw I find this peculiar. There's no obvious warning in many cases other than heavy looking clouds, yet like virtually all the other animals, wild or domestic, you just seem to know that a storm is about to unleash rain, thunder, and llightning in no particular order.
     
    It must be that electricity in the air, that sense of buolding tension, that feeling that if you stay outdoors something bad will happen. Yet despite this useful instinct, some @ people a year still get hit by lightning. Some people never learn.
     
    With rumours of storms crossing the country last night I made sure I sat down and watched the weather report on television. Yes, I know, they never quite get it right until it's about to actually happen, but unlike @ a year, I haven't so far gotten myself zapped by 13,000 volts. Imagine my disappointment when the screen animation showed some feeble spots of pale blue evaporating over my home town. No storms then? Typical. Now I'm going to have to re-schedule my entire day.
     
    The Best Bits From Tuesday
    I have a strange optimism about tuesdays. After the average monday, it can only get better. I like to believe that for fear the rest of the week will be just as bad. After all, my AOL horoscope says a friend will create problems for me all week. Not really sure what friend they're talking about, but hey, if it's written in the stars...
     
    Anyhow, I ambled down the hill for my daily dose of internetting at the library. Sideshow J, our jovial and strange-haired coordinator at the work club, shot past me on a bike and refused to stop. Very important man is Sideshow J, and he had business to attend to. Hmmm.... That doesn't appear to have caused me problems.
     
    I reached the traffic island, the last stop before entering the hallowed gates of Swindons brave new library, when I heard a familiar sound. You know how it is when you hear something in the background and react without thinking? Of course the sound was an original 60's series Star Trek communicator warble, which some idiot decided to use for his mobile phone ring tone. I actually stopped and looked around. Hopefully no-one noticed what a trekkie-phile I am.
     
    Sadly the delights of internetting have to wait untiil I've done my chores. Trawling through the ads for jobs here and there I click on 'apply' in rapid progression. Is it just me, or is the job market getting silly? Administrator wanted. Must have lifetime experience of office enviroment, able to leap tall cabinets in a single bound, must be faster than a speeding memo, and obviously only graduates will be considered. And that's for a three month contract only. Sheesh.
     
    Click on 'apply'. Yes, I know, I don't even come close to their requirements, but the job centre will have me turned into a refugee from a Charles Dickens novel if I don't make the effort It's getting like that everywhere now. Employers and angencies are asking for stupid qualifications and qualities.
     
    It wasn't just me of course. A chap in the next cubicle was trying to find work as a security guard. There was a time when security work was easy to find. They couldn't get anyone to apply at all, such was the low pay and terrible conditions they offered. Now, with government regulations introduced, only the highest calibre square jawed hero may be even considered for permission to apply. And of course you need SIA certification.
     
    Unfortunately the chap was being assisted by a librarian whose knowledge of security work is not extensive, and he mentioned that a CIA card was required. Really? Wow, that's cool. Where do you get one of those? Five minutes later a stranger with an american accent approached him asking questions about using the computers. I kid you not.
     
    And The Storms?
    Nope. Not a flash or rumble anywhere. I can only conclude that this was a CIA plot to prevent Cliff Richard singing at Wimbledon.
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