Many years ago I promised a flight in a cessna to one of my workmates. Having already booked an aircraft, I received a telephone call from the flying club telling me that the aeroplane had lost oil in flight. Indeed it had. I saw the little Cessna 150 parked at the back of the hangar with a brown windscreen, a sort of dusty and fly-filled gunge across the plexiglass curve.
No matter. They promised me another airworthy machine that was more or less the same. I shouldn't have any problems. Yet
When you are 187cm (6.1 ft) tall and reach 117.2kg (258,38 pounds) than you know you have a (weight) problem, i didnt like it at all, so about a month ago i started to eat less and better, and 4 weeks later i am down now to 112,9 kg (248,90 pounds). While this is cool and all i realised that eating habit change alone is not going to make me feel better and there will be not much room for a little sin here and there, so i walked yesterday to a gym, signed up and today i already had my first hour
Time to introduce some music from the german speaking world to the rest of the planet....
one of my favourites is Xavier Naidoo (south african indian roots, but grew up in Germany and calls himself son of the city Mannheim),
...one of the best songwriter in Germany...
Oh what fun we have in the museum. Young L turns up as usual, breathless and excitable, and immediately gets to work searching out this weeks favourite tracks on his mp3 player. He's having a Queen-fest just of late. His favourite is Bohemian Rhapsody. Well, maybe not mine, but at least it wasn't one of those sugary 'let's be friends' singles that Queen sometimes turned out. Ugh.
"Do you like Bohemian Rhapsody?" He asked me. It's okay. It's just that I can't listen to it without seeing four
I am now just over a year without cigarettes, i stopped from a packet a day to zero from one day to the next.
It is possible therefor i am one hell of a guy that i am able to manage that...
this success story was brought to you by the mighty awesome Viggen, stay tuned till the next one comes..
cheers
chris
No sooner had I asked where the wet weather was than it turns up on my doorstep. It's a dreary dull morning here in the rainforests of Darkest Wiltshire, though I should say it's stopped raining just this last few minutes ago.
It seems I chose the right day for my hike. Yesterday I stopped for a breather in a small out-of-the-way field to enjoy the sunshine and the little enclave of rural bliss that is Horse Meadow. Four horses quietly grazed elsewhere. White, bay, black, and a curiously uns
With a quiet wednesday looming and more good weather to enjoy, the temptation to head for the hills was too much. In the early hours of this morning I packed my rucksack and set off into the gloomy twilight. The sun had barely risen a couple of degrees, so only between gaps in the urban landscape did that amber glow light up the sides of trees and houses.
The problem with hiking at this time of year is getting comfrotable. The early morning often brings a biting chill, as indeed today it did
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
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
Ah yes... The scene in Douglas Adams Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy where Ford Prefect entices Arthur Dent away from saving his cottage from demolition and down to the local pub for an emergency last beverage before stowing away on a passing Vogon Destructor Fleet.
For those of you who haven't read my last entry (shame on you), May 21st is Vogon Demolition Day. That's today. yes, it's the end of the world. So I recommend everyone pops down the pub and thumbs for a lift from any UFO's in the
Oh look. It's the end of the world again. Someone has worked out by complicated mathematical formulae based on a date arrived at by a medieval monk (no doubt according to complex mathematical formulae too) that the end of the world takes place on May 21st.
So if anyone fancies the pretty girl in the office and never had the courage to make a pass, better get a move on. Time is running out. Joking aside though, how you would you spend your last 24 hours on earth?
This subject came up with
Today is newspaper day. I have to really because the job pages are printed every thursday. Once upon a time there used to be three pages stuffed with adverts for this or that opportunity of a lifetime. These days there's a page of timid adverts costing the bare minimum, and almost invariably outside of my travelling range.
Well that part of jobsearch didn't take long. So what else I have got for my forty pence? More efforts to reduce speeding motorists. In fairness, Swindon took a bold step
A little while ago I bumped into a guy who was involved in battlefield re-enactment. There's a few of them around - this isn't the first time I've encountered re-enactors. Dressing up in historical costumes and pretending to fight? Isn;'t that a little sad? Well... That depends on your viewpoint.
Re-enactment is after all a practical study of how people conducted themselves in times gone by and for that matter they sometimes get heavily involved in historical research. In an era when the wr
This morning my doctor called me in for a decision on what to do about my health. Apparently if I was 65 or older he wouldn't bother (Heck, I'd probably die of old age anyway) but since I'm such a young man, he'll presribe these very special radioactive kryptonite pills.
I kid you not, the little card box vibrates with strange power all by itself. Reading the instructions is an eye-opener. Some people aren't affected, but the side effects are headaches, tiredness, nausea, and so forth.
Among the swathes of destruction wreaked by mother nature recently, America is not denied its fair share of it. That much I can see in the news, although in fairness what it must be like to suffer floods and tornado's is thankfully beyond my experience. I wonder if all this damage to peoples lives is making Americans seek a life elsewhere? I ask that question because of late I've noticed an increasing number of americans in Swindon.
For instance, there was the chap who glanced at me in a sor
Today is not a good day. And the subject of my woe? That's an interestng question in itself. It ought to be about my car, the Eunos Cabriolet slowly disintegrating with a little help from a vandal or two. Reason being that it's gone. Vanished. Disappeared.
I mean, did someone ctually bother to steal it? You couldn't just drive it away. But gone it most certainly has, snatched away more or less from under my nose yesterday afternoon.I only realised it was gone late into the evening. I doubt i
Hello fan(s) of the GhostOfClayton Twice Fortnightly Blog. The first bit is more of the usual, but the last part consists of me ranting like a Guardianista, so please feel to ignore it if you feel put off or offended by that kind of stuff.
I shall taunt you a second time
Some of you may remember that, a few blogs ago, it was announced at Mrs OfClayton's place of work that the overall personnel numbers in her office had to be reduced by 50%. After a bit of frantic work on complex excel sprea
Occaisionally during my action packed dole seeking lifestyle I catch a bit of television. Mostly because there's so little I want to watch that I normally do something else. I've probably mentioned before how strange it is that with more and more channels available, there's less and less you actually want to sit through. On the plus side, maybe that's a goood thing, because they say television is bad for you.
At the risk of becoming a wannabee journalist and reporting on people, I sat down
The health service is determined to prove I'm not well. As part of their quest to put me under the micropscope I've been asked to attend some strange scanning session. Apparently it's another excuse for that young lady nurse to daub me in gel. I can't wait.
Thing is though I keep hearing complaints that the health service can't deliver this or deliver that. I must be honest, as someone who's never needed much in the way of treatment, I haven't noticed any problem at all. So what's the deal?
All this good weather has been very seductive. It might be something people in other places around the world take for granted, but we British do enjoy our sunny weather when we can get. This weekend the clouds rolled in and as disappointing as it was, we do need the rain. I stopped for a while looking out the back window. The rainfall came in surges, no more than a light drizle one moment, a torrential downpour the next, though I didn't hear any thunder from the storms the weather people told us
Mothers' Day. This was supposed to be a glorious day. Even though the wind has been howling since last night, the predicted showers stayed away from the City By The Bay. On my way to the Giants' game, I met a gentleman at the train station...a new friend, for now, but who knows. He invited me to join him for breakfast with his friends before the game. After a spirited and gregarious meal with my new friends, I met up with my parents in our seats, and we watched the Giants' new (yet old) pit
I woke this morning to discover that bruises have a life of their own. Sounds strange? Well, the bruise obtained in my argument with a door the day before has now migrated from a large lump over my eye to a black ring around it. Oh no. I have a black eye. I look like like I've done ten rounds with Mike Tyson, though in all fairness, experts would probably note I only have one bruise thus did not last beyond one punch. Doors are tough opponents.
What bothers me though is that I nearly achieve
Time for another health check this morning. The slightly confused nurse asked me what my appointment was for. I told her it was for another blood test.
"Who put you forward for that?" She enquired. You did, three months ago. At least my memory isn't failing. Then again, it never pays to upset a nurse. She brought out her needle and loomed menacingly over me as she strapped my arm down.
This won't hurt a bit....
Oh To Heck With It
The burned out shell of the Locarno, most recently a
