Caldrail's blog is missing. Or at least the last weeks entry is. Well, no, not really, I just forgot to write one. So I apologise for the tension this had caused around the world as people bite their nails hopin g my next entry will magically appear. David Cameron and Ed Milliband exchanged insults in an angry row. Three schoolgrils gave up and went to Syria. Even Jeremy Clarkson punched his producer over an argument about it and caused the BBC a multi million pound commercial loss. Sorry about
Sometimes I encounter opinion regarding my blog. Well, it is there to be read, and I'd rather people formed an opinion good or bad than simply shrug and go back a *or* video. Mostly I hear how rubbish it is. Funny how the loudest people are those who want dismiss or abuse. No matter, but I do understand that not everyone wants to hear the latest whinge or moan from me. So before I whinge and moan some more, here's the fun bit.
There I was, bored and miserable, sat on a bus bumping and swayin
Don't you just love conspiracy theory? Despite everyones manifest inability to control their own destiny and Mankind's penchant for getting it wrong, people believe their lives are being controlled by some strange unseen group of elite conspirators. Personally I find it a bit hard to imagine that the typical career politician reaches the top of his political tree and becomes top dog in his own country only to be told what to do with it by Men In Grey.
The whole genre is nothing more than rel
According to the BBC, ten million of you watched the Dr Who special marking the 50th year of time travelling mayhem and alien invasions of Earth. I strongly suspect far fewer of you are going to be reading this, but who knows, perhaps one day this blog will survive the ravages of time and become an indispensible guide to how life in Swindon really was before Professor Cox was proved right.
I do note however one aspect of Day Of The Doctor that most people might not have noticed. The good Doc
I strolled into work this morning expecting to have to clear everything away so our new portakabin can be inserted into place. My jaw dropped spellbound as I entered the warehouse. The old cabin, that looked like a refugee from an abandoned railway line, has gone. In its place was a huge palatial (and clean) cabin.
I was so looking forward to watching another foul-up and writing it up in loving exacting detail, but I can't. International Portakabins have arrived in their green articulated t
AD points at a pile of cartons beside our porta-palace. "Caldrail, those parcels need to go by Slick Parcels today"
Righto. Out with the signing book, fill in the details (do they really need all this information?), write up the labels and stick them on the parcels - except this one because that the other order, so carefully peel off the label and reapply it to the correct box... now it won't stick.... get the tape, and the labelling is done. Now to phone Slick Parcels and get this lot out t
Many many years ago in that Jurassic era I call my childhood, I sometimes made a journey across the countryside to Lydiard Park. Back then West Swindon didn't exist. Just abandoned railway yards, farmland, and overgrown flak emplacements from WW2. I always remember passing through a village on the way where beside the road was a brake of trees that never seemed to grow any leaves, just existing as towering stalks of dark grey, always surrounded by flocks of crows that made the most unholy noise.
Hello, I'm Caldrail, she isn't, and you're reading The Albion News Network (brought to you by International Portakabins - "We don't break windows").
Todays headlines - Major logisitics company fail to deliver parcels.... Warehouse manager under investigation for failing to meet deadlines.... Security guard mocked for failing to send Caldrail to the right door.....Office girl sacked for failing....
We'll have more on these stories later, but now, an important message from our sponsors...
After that farce on Friday I was glad to get an invite to start work. Dutifully I made my way to the Network Rail site - ironically one I'd been sacked from once before by a different employer - and arrived on the dot just as my supervisor from the agency was parking his car. The security guard was one of those smiling happy south east asian types. Friendly to everyone. I can imagine him throwing me off the site for a misdemeanour with a cheery "Have... a... nice day. Yes."
The company site
It was bound to end in tears. A movement of cold air from Siberia plus an Atlantic storm coming up from the Bay of Biscay. Swindon rarely gets any snow despite being inland. Usually the worse areas are the eastern half of England, Scotland, and Ireland This time Swindon would not escape. To be fair, we were on the edge of amber weather warnings and didn't get hit as hard as some parts of the country, but up to foot of snow in Swindon is almost a natural disaster of memorable proportions.
I
One of the great truths of Britain is that for every run of good weather, you pay for it by rainy days to come. Right now the weather is prone to heavy showers. Typically I got dampened by drizzle as I arrived at the library, only to see sunny skies out of the window as I'm typing this. I'm not tempting fate by declaring when I want to go home.
The other day I was watching the birds in the park. The feathered ones I mean. Their antics are fascinating, especially when one gets cross with anot
Those of you who know England will also know that somtimes, just sometimes, the rain goes away to ome back another day, leaving us with a few days of glorious weather. Like today, a warm balmy day, and with all my chores done it was time to seek a quiet corner of the local park and relax in quiet solitude, away from the noisy daytime activity of my home town.
It isn't all that quiet if I were honest. An ocaisional gravelly rasp of a light aeroplane overhead, the distant subdued roar of a tra
Oops... I believe I missed a week in my blog entries. No matter. We're still waiting for the Ukraine and their Russian backed rebels to adhere to an agreed ceasefire. We're still waiting for the government to realise that all those changes to benefits payments is only going to produce more beggars on the street. Or for passers by outside my home to finally realise I really couldn't care less what they say.
A Quick Night Out
"I fancy a pint" My colleague mused out loud as we strode homeward
At the Charity life went on in a sort of organised chaos. You turned up, sat through a prayer meeting, then got told what your duties were for the day. I suppose I was lucky as I often got scheduled to work as a drivers mate on the company van, collecting and delivering secondhand furniture. A relaxing sort of job. Mostly. Okay, the driver was a bit highly stressed, often losing his temper, and of course the drawback to collecting and delivering furniture is that bulky objects are often heavy an
Many years ago I wrote a piece on the internet about my departure from a company's employment in scathing terms. Back then I wrote how the place would close and the site redeveloped. It has been announced that such will come to pass, my prophecy having been proven correct.
Working there in the good ol days was a different experience than you normally get in warehouses today. There were no agencies involved in finding jobs there, a family atmosphere, and good rates of pay. The rot set
The weather has been great these last two days. Clear skies and balmy sunshine. Not bad for February in England where benign climates are something you spend hundreds of pounds to escape to every summer holiday. Nature is having a sunbathe too, trees are and flowers looking very much like they should in spring. Woodpeckers have colonised one of local parks, making it sound like a construction site as they burrow into trees. Squirrels and rabbits at large, doing squirrelly and rabbity things (sur
Oh dear.... The floor of the warehouse is crumbling under the weight of the forklifts trundling back and forth. The builders are in, cutting gaping holes in the floor, filling them with concrete, and getting miffed when they discover lumps of cement nearby or a forklifter knocking plastic cones aside.
The guy who fixed the electrics in our porta-palace finally finished wiring up our area today, and slowly (expertly) manoevered his cherry-picker out onto the main aisle, whereupon his platform
In the last few weeks I've rediscovered a television series from the sixties. The Saint were the adventures of gentleman adventurer Simon Templar, played by Roger Moore, a sort of poor man's James Bond without the gadgets and evil villains taking over the world. Moore plays the part with his usual bond-esque humour but it is hard to imagine a real life counterpart so genteel and light hearted. In his world, just like Bond, he's infamous and known to everyone yet can wander around incognito until
Money is a funny thing. Some people are almost supernaturally capable of accruing it, others simply take what others earn without permission, and most of us get by with what we can get. How we spend our cash is another matter. Younger people tend to be hedonistic - there's a young lad at work who has spent his entire monthly pay cheque in two days each and every time. To be fair, he doesn't moan about the hassles of having no money like some do, but all the same time, he desperately needs some f
I have a strange feeling it might be nearly Christmas again. My suspicions were raised when my local supermarket began playing the very same Christmas hits - you know the ones, I won't traumatise you with their memory. The next clue was the presence of a brass band playing .. well... Christmassy tunes. One of them was out of tune. I know this because I happen to be a musician. The final clue in this insidious seasonal plot was the strange pleasantness exhibited by the managers at work. It's a st
Good grief. It's nearly half way through February and my poor deprived readers have had no news and whinges from me since the festive season. Fear not, brave public, you are not forgotten. At no cost to the country's economy and tattered finances, without the need for UN convoys and airlifts, without the need for drone and bombing attacks to clear obstructions, I bring the latest, and I mean late, news from the Rushey Platt Villa.
[bSnowfall [/b] There I was, knee deep in cardboard boxes, st
Another local newsletter fell through my letter box the other day. It seems our fair town of Swindon wants to change, wants to progress, wants to become a cultural vanguard. Yeah? Really? The civic leaders and planners trumpeted that line thirty years ago, which shows how little vanguarding they managed to achieve.
One of their former pet projects, the 'circus tent' market hall, is to be demolished which has alarmed local traders who can't afford the high street premises. The planners haven'
You find me in a very reflective mood. It's time to blog again. Not sure why, I guess it's one of those strange inponderables of life. So.... Where to begin?....
The Simpsons has an intro sketch featuring a gag with Bart daubing his lines on a school blackboard before escaping on skateboard, followed by the family gathering to watch tv in novel and amusing variety. Family Guy has the Broadway musical intro. South Park has South Parkesque imagery to tempt the senses and attract those with sho
We interrupt your normal reading to bring you the latest story, hot off the press. The Independent Peanut Republic of Rushey Platt has announced that they have annexed the state of South Carolina. Rushey Platt apologises to the USA for the incovenience, and assures citizens of their new dominion that they will not be required to fill in british tax returns. That concludes this newsflash, we'll bring you updates on this story as it happens. Over to our on-the-spot reporter, Sally Forth. Whats hap
Right now the wildlife in my home town is on full throttle. Most of the older foxes I got to know and name have disappeared, replaced by lots of young striplings who are busy learning the art of surviving in Swindon now that mum has kicked them out of the nest. Along one street in particular, you often see rubbish in those blue polythene bags the Council supply left out for collection but in a few instances, ripped open and the contents spilled across the pavement. I suppose for the most part re
