It was one of those uncomfortably hot nights. We're due to get more of them soon, and worse, as the midday temperatures are predicted to reach thirty degrees centigrade, which is the offically the point at which the British melt. Sleeping on nights like those is defined as the moments of weariness between rolling around in your own sweat. Instead, I sat bleary eyed and watched television, idlely flicking through channels in the vain hope of finding a programme that was even remotely interesting.
As Tuesdays go, this was not a good one.
Let's see... What happened today?
Erm... Not much...
Oh hang on - I did burst into song first thing this morning!
My Italian Tenor Moment
Just one more carton
Give it to me
Fantastic fashions
From Italy
I want - to look my best
So give me that carton
And bu-u-u-u-rn the rest
Proof of God
Yes - in the desolate wastes of the stockroom, isolated from human contact and with nothing but navel gazing to keep us from devolving into fis
There's an old chap I sometimes see by the cenotaph on Regents Circus. He stands there, breadcrumbs in hand, and allows pidgeons to clamber all over him, and I do mean, all over. He is swamped by the birds clamouring for his limited supply of titbits. Not my idea of fun, but each to their own.
I was passing his favourite spot the other day and noticed a crowd of hungry pidgeons milling around a pile of breadcrumbs on the ground. Hang on... Have they eaten Pidgeon Man? Oh no!
One of Lifes
Now and again you see some motorist doing something dumb. Commercial Road is one hazard area. It's a one way street and sure enough sooner or later someone doesn't spot the signs and proceeds against the flow of traffic totally bemused at the agression and 'lunacy' of other drivers.
Just lately it seems Regent Circus is becoming a hazard too. Not because of any chabges, it still remains a busy ring road like it has been for decades, but there's something peculiar. At the bottom of the hill
TV personalities often describe Swindon as dull and rainy. Well, nothing has happened in the last two days and today... Yes... It's raining.
So I'm sat in the library typing this out desperately trying to think of something meaningful to write.
Life, The Universe, And Everything
You can tell I'm bored, right? In todays blog I address the most fundamental question of about everything. Douglas Adams attempted this and got the answer of 42. Can I do better?
Lets start at the beginnin
There was a time when music store assistants smiled when I entered their shop. That was back in the eighties of course, when money was easily had and quickly spent, and a time when we were more prosperous even if we didn't know or felt it so. Whereas once all I seemed to do was buy things, all I seem to do now is repair things, or rather pay someone else to.
Last night I got the call from the music store to tell me my latest repair job was ready for collection. That particular box of tricks
Amongst the crop of job adverts I've had to trawl through this week is a remarkable chance to be Country Manager in Denmark. They want a new ruler who can increase their market share. So if you want to blitzkrieg Europe at the command of the Danish armed forces apply now.
Of course armed forces need fuel. I was interested to discover a vacancy for an oil company in Kyrgyzstan. Managing a pileline in some forgotten corner of the world doesn't strike me as an exciting opportunity, though it w
What a weekend. Hot sunny weather is something to be treasured. On my way through Town Gardens I just couldn't resist the temptation for a midday siesta, so I chose a wooden bench in a secluded spot and leant back. The sun was very hot. Even with my eyes closed I could see the light as a pale redness through my eyelids. Although the air wasn't actually warm, the gentle breeze felt like a welcome break.
My first interruption was a wood pidgeon making his moves on that classy female on the nex
Monday morning... Usually the Monday Blues are associated with dragging yourself out of bed to go to work, but since I'm unemployed, you'd think that wouldn't apply to me. Oh but it does. For today is my Signing On Day, my fortnightly ritual aimed at convincing the authorities that I've something toward getting a job thus entitling me to receive my meagre handout from the government. Typically for a Monday the good weather has vanished with the weekend. It's damp and grey out there. What a miser
The lesson of todays sermon is never to to take anything for granted. My worry is that this will sound more like an exercise in paranoia. Nonetheless, the events have occured, and behind it all lurks a reason. Let me explain.
I make no secret of my predeliction for using computers. They're versatile tools and sources of entertainment. But as with all complex machines, sometimes they go wrong. The ebb and flow of my computers reliability has inspired various posts on this blog already. At lea
Once more unto the Job Centre, dear friends, once more...
Apart from my regular signing days I sometimes get called in to attend a more serious interview. I think that's just in case I've charmed the pants off my advisor and get away with all manner of shenanigans. As if. Most of the time I feel one step away from a cancellation of payments and believe me, the Job Centre's do that on purpose. Maybe it's right that they should in that claimants shouldn't get too attached to claiming the dole
I don't know about you, but I've always found that weddings are such a pain in the backside. Perhaps it's different if you're the one getting married - I suspect in most cases you're kind of swept along by it - but as a disinterested observer you get dragged to a boring ritual then off to take part in the reception, a celebration that takes ages for you to drink yourself oblivious and spare yourself the mind numbing tedium of family fun. If you doubt my word on that, I challenge you sit through
In case anyone doesn't know, Archie is dead and Stacey did it. I imagine by this time the whole world has heard about that. Another thing everyone has probably already heard is that I don't like soap operas. That surreal glitziness of working class Coronation Street, that farcical drama and tragedy of rural life in Yorkshire, that irredeemably dystopic world of Albert Square. Those claustrophobic virtual worlds might be wonderful to some people, but seriously, I really don't care what happens. W
I woke up this morning to bright sunshine yet again. How much longer can this go on for? We brits aren't used to good weather. Extended bouts of sunny days makes us go all loopy, doing daft things like jumping off bridges into dangerous rivers, slowly roasting ourselves where-ever we find a spot to lie down, and discovering how far you can stretch fashion before foreigners are visibly nauseous. I have an uncontrollable urge to buy bottles of cheap cider and watch the world go by. Hang on... What
Almost daybreak. I'm sort of drowsy, in a warm bed, and very unwilling to brave the chilly temperatures of the bedroom even with the heating on. So I dozed for a bit longer. Plenty of time.
Not any more. Almost 9;30, and if I leave it too late, there'll be a two hour wait to grab a computer at the library. My life is full of these little problems. Quick! Out of bed - Cold! - and take a peak out of the window to confirm the weather conditions I'll have to cope with this morning.
Oh no! Th
There's been a trend in recent years toward 're-enactment' documentaries. It isn't enough to simply tell us what went on, and show us maps, film clips, music, sounds, and the odd talking head, but now you have to get people doing these things to see what it's like. My own feeling is that you're going to fail, because the only people who know what it's like are the ones who went through the experience for the cameras, and then we only see the edited highlights.
There was one where a bunch of
Perhaps the shock of cold mornings has worn off now, or perhaps the day is genuinely milder, but today is bright, sunny, and bearably chilly. On my way the Job Centre to deliver my daily excuses I stopped in the park, watching the gathered waterfowl swim back and forth vainly waiting for a passer-by to stop and throw breadcrumbs. What? On a cold day like this?
I have to admit I remain bemused about how these birds don't freeze. After all, they live outdoors and swim in cold water. I suppose
My mobile phone beeped. That's almost a social event for me, and whilst most texts are usually reminders of phone services or the occaisional marketing ploy, I still give it a read. Just in case.
Remember that you're due to attend a course the message said. Eh? What course? Why wasn't I informed? You see, with the current 'One strike and you're destitute' regime absence could cost me my payments. So naturally I'm a little annoyed by this bureaucratic oversight. Thanks for telling me guys.
That's it. I've had enough. After a few years of not writing any computer programs at all, I've discovered how much I've forgotten. There's a command phrase I need and I can't remember what it is. It's a strange irony that help files are no help whasoever when you don't know what you're looking for.
After spending a fruitless hour in a quest for digital enlightenment, I decide that I've had enough. Switch the darn thing off and get something to eat before I starve. So I stomp despondently in
The car roars across the desert. Fast paced action and immediate editing. A robot-like individual steps off his Harley Grav-bike and asks a tussle-haired young man standing fresh faced and breathless before him...
"Who are you?" (Always a good intoduction I think. Find out you the tussle haired kid is before he mugs you and sprays tags over your grav-bike)
"James Tiberius Kirk!" The young man responds with film actor defiance. No. Surely not. Star Trek has evolved toward the lowest possi
I wonder what would happen if the worlds population was decimated by a sudden deadly plague? Its not a pleasant thought. Without the restrictions of an ordered society, opportunism and lawlessness would rapidly take hold. A guy I knew at work once told me that since he knew all about nature and the wilderness and stuff, come the revolution he would survive. You know what? I doubt it. He might have an advantage - assuming he really does know something, and assuming he's actually had some practice
The plumbers turned up at the door last night. "We need to check for a leak in your bathroom." One boldly announced, "'Cos we cut a hole in the downstairs ceiling and the waters coming from upstairs."
I had visions of a domestic disaster looming as these people disassembled my home in the hunt for a few drops of water. Two of them bounded upstairs and proceeding to dismantle the bathroom as expected. One brought his young duaghter along. Thankfully she was well behaved and was more concerned
Britains terrorism threat has been raised from 'substantial' to 'severe'. The British public might not notice, the authorities claim. They're right, we won't, because unless an event actually happens life will go on as normal. A part of me is still a little suspicious though. I remember that moment some years back when the army cordoned off Heathrow Airport in a blaze of publicity. Was that a 'severe' threat situation? If so, where are all the tanks now?
I have wondered for some time that ev
Life in the stockroom continued at its usual pace, a sort of disinterested shuffle urged on by the increasing frustration of managerial staff for whom laclk of enthusiasm is an alien concept. Then, without warning, the main lights in the stockroom went out. Only the individual aisle lights remained, casting an orange mood upon the darkness of our haunted store. It was like being inside one of the computer games where you wander around mazes shooting things before they rip you asunder. Or for tha
For years Swindon has been a byword for Victorian pidgeon nests. Our 19th Century legacy has survived in all sorts of quiet corners around the town. For the most part, these brick edifices were as rundown and abandoned as their inhabitants. Yet as shabby as it was, it leant a certain character to the place. In recent years, I've wandered around the town taking photographs. The interesting patina of urban decay is simply wonderfully photogenic. The industrial archaeology alone is worth two gigaby
