There was an obituary in our local paper recently. Bill Slater had passed away at the grand old age of 65. I don't think many people outside the Swindon area knew him, but he was an Oxford man, a rugby player, a stage performer, but most relevant to me, my old history teacher.
I read that small story on the bottom of the page with mixed feelings. In all honesty I wasn't aware of his understated stage career performing the works of Gilbert & Sullivan, and I knew from another source that h
Human endeavour is a curious thing. A lot of what we do is little more than instinct. Watch any wildlife program and you see exactly the same behaviour patterns that human beings have always displayed. It's just that we like to kid ourselves that we're somehow superior when in private we like being as animal as possible... What? The same goes for war. It's just an extension of one herd against another in competition for something. Most animal species have learned to ritualise such behaviour to m
My usual Monday ritual begins at the Job Centre. Walk in, pass by the swarm of security guards as they appraise me for terrorist capability, and ascend the steps to my assigned floor where I sit and wait for an interview... And wait... This appears to be the latest wheeze designed to catch me out. No searching the database for vacancies, just sign and go after a long wait. Presumably this will lull me in to a false sense of laziness.
"Sorry to keep you waiting." The gentleman said as he led
Right. Time to sit down in my cubicle at the Library and while away an hour on the internet. It's quiet, nobodies showing off their bestial personal habits, and no mobuile phones... Uh-oh. I spoke too soon. The young black lady on the PC to me right whipped her phone out with practised ease. She spoke clearly, confidently, quietly, and for some strange reason, there was a very appealing tone to her voice. I found myself listening in. Oh no. I've turned into a sad eavesdropper. Oh well..
Now
I like September. here in Britain under our ever-warming climate its become a respite, a chance to relax. The humid thunderstorms of the August rain season are passed, and the gales of October are yet to arrive. The air is cool and the sun warm.
Its not just me. I do notice other people are more relaxed too. I pass employees quietly sitting in the sunshine outside their workplaces without any of the insidious mickey-taking of passers-by. i wonder if this has to do with kids going back to sch
Ok. The blog's been running for a while, stories are getting thin on the ground, characters a bit familiar and tired, and its slowly metamorphising into Last of the Summer Wine. Time then to... Come with me now - and let me take on a journey through Time and Swindon, to the Land of the Mighty Supermarket...
Why is it, whenever I go there, that every old person seems to drift in front of me and block my progress in the search for provisions? You turn left, you turn right, you give up and use
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
As you might have guessed, I spent last night watching Monty Python's third film, The Meaning Of Life, definitely the least funny of the three, and perhaps proof that Life isn't fun? Certainly the town I live in has tried to tell us its a great place to live ever since the railworks, our very own dark satanic mill, closed for business. Yet Swindon always seems so meaningless.
It does seem a little coincidental that I've chosen to discuss the Meaning of Life, especially since I seem to have s
The French said No. The Dutch said No. Having rendered further progress on the Treaty of Lisbon illegal, the power brokers behind it then asked the Irish. The Irish said No. So the power brokers behind it are now telling us we must find a way around the obstacle.
Pardon?
Whats the point of a vote if its going to be ignored if the sponsors don't like it? The people of three countries have stated their wish to halt further european integration under the terms given.
It hasn't gone unn
Over the weekend we had that inevitable media circus that is Valentines Day. I have to be honest, the search for lurve was quiet this year, and as far as I'm aware there wasn't much on tv apart from the usual late-night adverts for mobile phone fantasies. Yes, there were some groups of drunken girls squealing at every suprise as they do. A group of adolescents chanting and beating their chests in a display intended to impress us with their manliness. Heard it all before lads. Sorry.
For some
Over the last few days the rain has been intruding on our daily lives here in Darkest Wiltshire. Not a deluge, and no reason to expect flooding, just a series of heavy showers as the days wear on. The weather seems to have afflicted my old keyboard. The antiquated electronics are behaving in a strange manner, making the sound I get out of it something of a lottery.
Then there's the matter of the gas bill. If ever there was a lottery that is it. They seem to set the payments at random these d
Waiting outside the library for opening time has become something of a ritual for me. Its funny how its a daily ritual for a lot of others too, and the same faces keep on turning up. We pretty much arrive at our usual times, and line up in the same positions. The wonderful diversity of life hasn't quite colonised Swindon then.
As was easily predicted, the same librarian unlocked the door (We'll call her Miss K) , a fidgety thin girl who rushes around like a housefly. There's a power operated
As usual, we line up outside the library waiting for it to open, so we can all enjoy the public internet access. Read books? Ahem. The doors open, and the library assisteant, a clean cut lad, is brushed aside as the experienced library goers are keen to log on. Poor lad nearly gets trampled to death.
Good grief, AM's friend has bought himself a new coat. Instead of the filthy padded jacket he's owned since 1976 he now wears a raincoat, very suitable for spring sunshine and long days in the
The Toyota Prius.
Heard of it?
Its that fashionable eco-car that celebrities buy to look like they actually care about the enviroment. Its the car that Top Gear entered in its Comedy Handling Competition. That Jeremy Clarkson gave to a cowboy to shoot with a .50cal heavy machine gun. Its slow, ugly, the seats are uncomfortable, and never does achieve the fuel economy that Toyota claim. Its also the car my father bought.
My father wants me to buy his Prius. A couple of years ago I thr
Another glorious morning. On my way to the Job Centre I stopped in the park for twenty minutes, watching the various waterfowl doing fowl things on the lake. The black headed geese stayed by the shore, pecking each other for something to do before the breadcrumb crowd arrive. Pidgeons in all shades of grey didn't wait, flapping around and searching the pavement, mystified as to why breadcrumbs hadn't magically appeared. There were no swans today. Those graceful birds are a common sight here usua
So where was I at 09:25 this morning? Bet you can't guess... Oh, ok, you can. And you're right I was, waiting for the security guard to open the doors.
This morning the security guard began opening the doors, beginning with the coffee bar. A certain young man determined to be first up the stairs, brushed past and rushed inside, making his way around the back of the stairwell. Unfortunately on this occaision, he hadn't noticed the other guard opening the door to the stairway at the same time.
This morning was for the first time in weeks a typical Swindon day. Uneven grey clouds obscure the sky and the ground is damp from the rain of the early hours. There's a distinct smell that arises at times like this, a sort of grassy odour amplified by wet vegetation.
The alleyway past the old college site remains as unloved as ever. It never ceases to amaze me where this rubbish comes from. On a regular basis piles of discarded clothes appear, crumpled and dirty, often with a soiled mttress
Looking out the window this morning I see a vista of clear blue sky. After yesterdays squalls and blustery winds it's a welcome change. Years ago, on a day like this, I would phone the flying club and ask if there was an available aeroplane. There is? Brilliant, I'll be there in an hour.
There wasn't much to it. I arrive, park up, and pop by the control tower to check for weather information. Oh yes. You never take british weather for granted. It's suprised me more than once. Also there was
Miss L isn't speaking to me today. The enormity of the situation is soul-crushing. How can I go through life without Miss L's insightful commentary? I have become a lesser human being, relegated to the bottom league of social undesirables on slave wages. Plus I get attacked occcaisionally by rubber bands and rubbish thrown over the racks. Battered and bruised.
In order to restore my happiness, and indeed, my general sanity, the department store issued me with a high-vis jacket. For health a
Now I know I'm getting old. How do I know? Well sit down comfortably and I'll begin.
Exhibit A is a pretty ordinary computer printer, an cream coloured plastic box with a couple of slots and a mind of its own. Even when plugged in, it sits there resolutely doing nothing. Somewhere on the featureless surface of the box is a button that brings this reluctant technological wonder to life.
Somewhere...
I know there's a 'start' button on this thing...
For a moment, I nearly resorted
Can anyone be perfect? Some of us believe so, usually the type of person that wears a black polo neck sweater, a gold medallion, and earns millions by telling everyone else how they can be too. I wonder how we see ourselves? The obvious answer is to use a mirror or a photograph, but what I actually mean is our own perception of ourselves. Those lads in the street this last weekend no doubt regard themselves as good-for-a-laugh salt-of-the-earth characters. What? A bunch of drunken louts?
Hea
Scientists are busy discovering why african naked mole rats live so long. Apparently they can live for thirty years, nearly four times the lifespan of their genetic cousins, and don't suffer from cancer. Naturally scientists believe that studying the hairless little mammals might have beneficial consequences for us too.
Sometimes I wonder if the answer isn't a bit more obvious and doesn't require intense study of graphs, spreadsheets, slides, and scanner imagery. These little mammals don't s
Funny how little things can seem so important. There is of course that quaint Chaos Theory that suggests a butterfly in motion could upset a balance that leads to a storm elsewhere. At first glance, it seems a ridiculous notion, because the laws of physics clearly indicate that a butterfly would have a hard time creating a massive cyclonic movement of air that flattens most of the Eastern US seaboard. But then again, little things matter.
There was that time I thought I was losing fuel in fl
Right then. The pavement is covered with undulating ice an inch thick. It's slippery, dangerous, and I'm fed up of risking my neck on it. So I retrieved my trusty spade from its burial place and got to work. I dug up a narrow path something like fifity to seventy yards long. Some pedestrians merely strode past me without a word, but three actually said thank you. I suspect an asian woman would have been number four but talking to strange caucasian shovel-wielders in the street isn't part of thei
It was quite a sight this morning. Further down from the library I inhabit is a hotel, a building that might not be the tallest in Swindon but certainly towers over everything else around it. There was a column of thick dirty brown smoke pouring out of a roof vent like one of those dark satanic mills the government banned so we could all breathe. Can you imagine booking a room there?
"Can I help you Sir?"
I'd like a room please.
"Certainly Sir. We have accomodation in Admin, Mechanic
