I saw a news report that whilst digging the new foundations at Ground Zero in New York, a 17th or 18th century scrapyard has been found. The remains of a scrapped sailing vessel was lying under the World Trade Centre all that time. What a wonderful twist to the tragedy of 9/11. Still, it does call into question the wisdom of all those rubbish recyclement policies we Brits are wrestling with right now. Our historical record is being reduced along with landfill sites. Combine that with the transit
The next few months are going to be some of the most seminal you've experienced. This coincides with a further unfolding of a new you. Some old ways, attitudes and elements of your life may be set to go. This can be stressful, but also crucial.
That was my stars for yesterday in the local paper. Who am I to argue with a journalist? You know, this 'stars' business is peculiar. Intellectually you know that you're being conned a little bit. You know that paying any money to find deeper answers
Every day when I sign on the chap across the desk pulls up a screen full of job vacancies within my chosen criteria. You do tend to get a mixed bag, some of them distinctly undesirable or impossible for various reasons, but by and large the range becomes familiar. Well it should do really, I've been applying for those sort of jobs for a couple of years now.
Now that my letter of complaint has been handed in, I must face the music. The Job Centre hate nothing more than a claimant who doesn't
One of college classmates is a farmer by trade. The difficult economic conditions have prompted a change in career (though I understand he now intends to work for his family farm). He's been pretty busy of late. Hundreds of hay bales needed to be collected for shipment and he was working into the small hours of the night getting those things stacked and packed. At first glance it seems the life of a farmer is all hard work, but he tells me that it isn't always so dull.
The police called at h
Without doubt this is a miserable day. A fine mist of dampness hangs over Swindon, enveloping our grey town with... Well... Even more greyness. Only wetter. The feeling has reached my neighbour, who slammed the doors this morning in another sulk at having his dreams of all day and night parties crushed by the need to live alongside other people. Must be nine o'clock then.
As I strode determinedly through the rain to reach the library at the bottom of the hill, I reminisced about how this was
As I've mentioned before, an extended spell of unemployment changes your perception of time. Life is at a slow pace, nothing hurried, and all those little things you used to cram into every spare five minutes now assume the status of your entire days activity. However, the recent near-fatal experience with my computer has changed all that. Suddenly I'm pitched into a battle of wills with the company that made the wretched thing.
The law says I'm entitled to a repair, replacement, or refund.
As if invasions of jellyfish weren't enough. Last night I caught a program on television where some ex-special forces guy zips into chainmail to film vicious gangs of humboldt squid.
Apparently these horrible little monsters are spreading like wildfire because they can. We haven't helped of course. I mean, we're always to blame, aren't we? Apparently our fishing habits have caught all the predators that eat squid, so now the little horrors don't have any competitors.
They are actually re
Years ago the music business seemed like some magical lottery. I suppose in a way it was, though in fairness it's also a ruthless business as any other and even after decades of popular music, we still see the same headlines in the tabloids about the disillusionment and disaster of becoming famous. As if that ever put anyone off. I made my own stab at at it, and Red Jasper's guitar player is still out there twenty years on, trying to become the next guitar hero. That's free publicity there, Robi
Now that the freezing weather has returned to the normal damp and chilly greyness of a Bitish winter, other things are returning with it. Last night was this years first excursion of the Saturday Singing Club, another bunch of youths determined to display their acne to everyone as loudly as possible. Cars and vans have taken to driving quite fast again too, now that the roads aren't as slippery as they were last week. Even on a quiet Sunday morning I had to dodge a couple of drivers who clearly
I caught up with a program about Atlantis the other night. Finding this program on television was a suprise and something of a coincidence. I'd recently spotted a book on our library shelves that was on the same subject. The book, unsuprisingly, delved into every myth and urban legend ever associated with our famous lost city.
Some people actually believe all this stuff. A while back I noticed a chap looking at a book on the secrets of the pyramids and since he had all the appearances of stu
Huh? What's going on? Why is the light through my curtains a light grey colour? Why is there a sound of someone struggling to drive a vehicle in the yard? Why did I just hear a metallic crunch as he failed utterly? Sorry, I just have to find out, so pull back the duvet (Aaargh! It's c-c-c-cold!) and look out the curtains to see....
No! It's not possible! Surely this cannot happen in Rainy Old Swindon! Yes, I'm afraid it has. We've had snow.
Blizzards On A Different Scale
Considering wha
What a day! Glorious blue skies and sunshine. I'm in a good mood, the young lady leaning out of her upstairs window smoking wasn't in the mood to criticise me when I walkd past, the ginger cat rubbing against the brick wall didn't run away, and this has to have been the quietest saturday night for a long time.
Apart from the usual renditions of the 'F' word up until three o'clock, but hey, kids like to play don't they? All those tiny little dramas were played out on the street again last nig
'Tis the eve of a new year good people, and the party mood is upon me. It's upon the birds in the park too, and walking through the otherwise empty beauty spot I noticed a certain feistiness in the collected flocks of swans, geese, ducks,coots, moorhens, pidgeons, and those little white seabirds with black tails.
All except the solitary crane at the back of the lake, viewing the noise and excitement of the breadcrumb hunt with it's usual static disdain.
Sometimes I wonder if birds have an
Yesterday began with a bright sunny day. Don' t you just feel a lift when that happens? A bright new day, just waiting to be enjoyed. I set out that morning in a good mod. Especially useful since the Job Centre had sent me on one of those "How to find a job" courses.
Strolling into town the familiar sound of an RAF Hercules transport droned overhead. I've watched those aeroplanes flying over Swindon on their way into Lyneham airbase for forty years or so. It felt a bit poignant, because soon
Across the country, six million cars are parking themselves in traffic jams on their way to somewhere more expensive than usual. Yes, it's another Bank Holiday Weekend. For those of you who don't understand British culture, it's our way of imitating lemmings.
Traditionally the weather always rains on holiday weekends. It's as if the sum effect of all those car exhausts isn't carbon dioxide at all, but water, as the rainclouds make our intended holidays as miserable as possible - unless you h
Changes are afoot. Lorries bearing scaffolding have swarmed into Swindon town centre and erected makeshift frameworks here, there, and everywhere. There's one across the street from me that looks like a roof repair following our recent strong winds. The old cinema at the bottom of the hill, the one that spent its declining years as a bingo hall, and spent the last decade under offer, has now been propped up with miles of metal tubes.
Not only that, but the two metal posts inserted in the pav
I sat down at the computer yesterday with good intentions. I had this to do, I had that to get on with. Sadly my headache had other ideas. As much as I wanted to be productive, that nasty litle pain in my head wouldn't let me concentrate. I almost wrote that headaches are a pain in the butt. Maybe I won't do that.
This was of course the library, which means there's always other people there, and these days the public have no idea what a library is. The plump lady on my right was moaning abou
Some years ago a guy I knew from my schooldays looked me up and we decided to have a pint or two, catch up with events, and basically fall over drunk at some in the proceedings. By strange quirk of fate, MS and I originally crossed paths over music. I was a keen up and going nowhere drummer, he was busy inventing new and interesting beeps on toy keyboards. I must confess, it was his idea to stage a charity rock concert at a local sports hall but an idea I got behind. We formed a band to take par
Yesterday was a really nice day. Plenty of sunshine but not especially hot. Even the policeman who'd stopped me earlier wished me a good time out in the countryside. I was pleased to note that the path up Burderop Hill, a climb that gets ever steeper toward the top, was dry as a bone. Usually the track is a muddy quagmire, at the bottom of the hill at least, but yesterday it was baked hard.
On my way home I was heading for Chiseldon along a farm trail. A streambed looked glaringly obvious wi
