In the last year or so I've been making half hearted efforts to maintain my physical fitness. The ennui of unemployment and its incessant requirement to stay active in the jobsearch has left me, ironically, with less time to devote to physical exercise. Slowly but surely I've become aware that hiking has become tougher on my reserves of energy, and that my rebellious waistline is advancing it's remorseless progress ahead of me.
Walking through town the other day I passed a shop dealing with
Today I'm at the local library.. So who's in this morning?
Ahh.. As usual Mr AM makes his unhurried entry. He's an elderly New Zealander, over here to find his family, and after seven years they're still not answering his emails. Always first through the door, always slowing everybody else down with his two walking sticks, always bullying an unsuspecting interloper off his favourite PC, and always smiling at young Miss L (She's a pretty lass, desperately bored with library work). Give him a
Its all gone very quiet. Now the main library is hut while they move premises, I walk down to the sports centre and use their facilities. Strangely, it all seems very empty. The creche isn't huddled in a group by the window chanting nursery ryhmnes tunelessly. Kids aren't re-enacting the Battle of Britain.
I know whats wrong. Its AM. Its been so long since I've seen him have a good whinge or stop the world because he can't send his emails. Good grief - don't tell me he's actually done what
Sunday morning... Time once again to step over the casualties of last nights binges and make my way to where I sit now, typing out this blog entry. What struck me was how quiet everything was. A solitary electric tool echoed in the back streets on the west side of Swindon hill, whining away with it's owners delirious need to reduce his untidy house to matchwood. Oh sure the church bells were trying to keep christians occupied on their day off but for some odd reason it didn't seem as intrusive a
The problem I'm having with thursdays is that I'm struggling to find anything interesting to say about them. Back in my younger days thursdays used to be fun exciting times of the week because that was payday. The manager would come round and hand you cash in a small envelope. This was of course in the days before the internet became the preferred means of making friends. I'm not sure the internet was invented back then.
Unlike many of my older colleagues in the workplace I wasn't married, s
Until a few months ago, one of my usual 'get-fit' routes was to follow the farm trail to Southleaze and cross the M4 motorway on that concrete arch bridge. For some reason it was decided the bridge must go, inspired partially by the new housing developments taking place on Swindons Front Lawn.
Yesterday I went that way again out of curiosity. A new bridge has been installed but I wanted to see if it was accessible. It was. Not by cars anymore however. The bridge has steps on one side instead
On my way to the library this afternoon I happened to pass along an old footpath in Okus. It dates from before the town of Swindon grew across this particular stretch of farmland in the 60's. In fact, I used to walk that way going to school. There was always that two tone blue sports car parked in someones drive that I used to fantasise over. Back then, I hadn't any idea what it was, but in the passing of years I've come to know it was a TVR Tasmin, and why it was always parked in the drive.
DING!
If I'm not mistaken, that was the doorbell. There I was, snoozing happily under my nice warm duvet, and someone has to go and spoil it by ringing the doorbell. It might be important, you never know, though a part of was wondering whether someone had broken my car again. I've reached the point where I don't care too much.
Okay, let's find out what's going on. It dawned on me that doing so meant getting out of bed. This had better be good. Switch the hallway light on so the visitor k
In the many news reports I've browsed through lately, I spotted one modest story that Britain is drying up. All this good weather comes at a price which means the lack of rainfall is going to cause the hosepipe bans and frantic questions in the Houses of Parliament. Curiously enough a recent television report showed a reservoir with dwindling water levels. Time to panic? Apparently not. Despite expert advice and lessons of the past, no-one seems particularly interested that our summer might prov
Last night was a quiet evening. That's a refreshing change after the constant droning noises from my neighbours. A chance then to enjoy a good read, safe in the knowledge that nothing would disturb the atmosphere of peace and calm. The occaisional passing car made no difference, even the ones with stereos capable of setting off a major earthquake response. With the damp and uncertain weather outside, there wasn't much disturbance from pedestrians either.
Previously I've mentioned the noisy c
I found out a big secret this weekend. Stay tuned to learn more.
Party On Dude
Saturday was the official museum social event of the year. Normally this sort of thing takes place around christmas or new year, but us museum folk take life at an easier pace, except for Mr J's hyperactive girlfriend who was clearly never taught how to behave in polite society. So we we stood there sort of drunk and confused while she turned into a human pinball.
At one point in the proceedings she was compa
See those racks there? I looked at the endless ranks of women clothes stuffed tightly into every possible space. Not even an anorexic see-through nightie could find a spot to hang out. Well, my job was to move all the tee-shirts and clothes with multi-coloured labels from there... over to... there. No particular reason, it's just that managers like to see us working so invent tasks for us to complete. heck, this is like working in the army.
So KS and I began our task with our usual banter. I
The prospect of Work Experience Day is something I've come to dread. Every week we file into the classroom and spend the day wallowing in retro-infant school nostalgia. Needless to say, I was expecting another lesson better suited to four year olds.
To my pleasant suprise our advisor, TB, brought out a pile of Mecanno sets and tried to give us a lesson about following instructions. As if I listened. I was too busy enjoying the delights of pseudo-car manufacture from kit parts.
The only
All of a sudden my car is desirable. In the last four weeks I've had four people knocking on the door asking if I'm willing to sell it. Not, as you might imagine, young tearaways out to secure the chance of impressing their mates with sporty japanese road-going hardware, but office girls, up and coming managers, and old chaps looking for the project to keep them busy until that final heart attack.
But why my car? To look at ithe vehicle askance it's nothing special. Okay, it's got a neat bod
"How long have I got mate?" Asked an optimistic motorist at the bottom of the hill last night, planning to use the loading bays cut into the pavement. He was of course not asking the question to me, but one of the two traffic wardens busy handing out tickets to motorists who didn't think to ask.
I can't call them traffic wardens anymore (nor anything less polite). Instead, they're called Traffic Flow Monitoring & Enforcement Officers or something similar. I should know. I've applied to
I've mentioned before about a scheme to build a canal through Swindon. There used to be one, the Wilts & Berks, and the last stretch of this water still exists on the outskirts of town. There is however a lobby for recreating it and they occupy the Old Collectibles Shop opposite the new permanent library currently under construction (Swindon had a temporary library for thirty or forty years). I spoke to one of their people the other day.
The plan is to go under the road at Kingshill, fo
I've just watched an advert on tv. Its sponsored by the government, and tells us that if we don't act now our world will become hotter with dire results to our comfortable lives. It ends with a a view of the world wrapped in a red hot atmosphere. Thats a chilling message isn't it? It is of course designed to frighten us out of our complacency. It is, without doubt, propaganda.
Our government is socialist and whilst it has politicans in the public eye who proclaim their wish to further the pr
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
Another day, another session at the library. You can tell which librarian is on duty by the amount of conversation going on. Today is the scottish lady, who happens to be very strict about noise. God help anyone who turns the computer sound up.
The young man in the next cublicle answered the raucous mobile phone ringtone. "Aw right mate?... Yeah... Chillin' out in da library... Yeah... No... Wicked game wuzzn'it?... Played it on da wheel, man, well cool... (laugh)"
That was it. Out of t
You might be forgiven for thinking I live in the past. After all, I do talk about my career in music a lot and naturally the ignorance of those who haven't the talent or inclination to risk all for fame annoys me a great deal. But all these reminisences aren't really the point. I do live in the past, just not the past you might expect.
Let me explain. In our modern world, we live according to timetables. The workplace dominates our daily schedule, but domestic and social issues often force r
Roughly every two or three days we get warnings on television about heavy snow. The familiar amber triangle displayed on our screens is getting a little boring, especially when nothing happens. Take today for instance. Despite "The end is nigh" every half hour on the news channel, I've witnessed nothing but fair weather. Lovely day out there. Birds are singing, children are playing, the boss is smiling, and I didn't have to wait for a library computer. What could be better? Apart from millions i
The task for the day was to head out to the edge of my known universe, or more specifically, Blunsdon. That's four and a half miles away. Even though the start of the one day course in 'How To Use The Internet For Jobsearching' was not all that early, getting there required an early start.
I don't mind as such. If you need to get out of bed at some ungodly hour, that's what you do, and whether the need to get up or the uncomfortable cold temperatures were the cause, I was wide awake long be
Swindon to Newcastle is about six hours by train. Time to settle into the seat, relax, let the train take the strain. I watched the towns and countryside roll by. It was all going too well. The stop at Sheffield Station was a long one. The minutes ticked by and there was no sign of movement. Platform staff who usually shepherded the trains away were curiously absent. Please don't tell me another strike is in progress... Then the tannoy bleeped into life to make a passenger announcement.
"If
Recently I noticed a news item concerning the increasing level of drug traffic in Britain. Perhaps I shouldn't be suprised. The local newsopaper has regularly reported drug busts by police here and there in Swindon, probably like any other town or city in the country.
Not being a drug user myself I don't generally come across the trade. I've had one offer of drugs from a stranger in my entire life, and I've only seen cannabis openly being used once. Persoanlly I never saw the point of them.
Can you trust statistics? Anyone who watches the tv news or reads the papers every morning is bombarded with facts and figures, most of which are selected to prove a point. As a schoolkid I once had a maths leasson that illustrated how the display of statistics can affect your perception of the result.
The latest statistics about crime are in the news. Murders are down by 17% to a twenty year low, despite the shock horror stories about knife wielding kids stabbing crowds of teachers to death
