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. The company says that they aren't doing anything unless I pay for it. This is gambling at it's worst. They know I'm unemployed and can't afford solicitors fees. As it happens, so do I. Having sought legal advice from one of that elite crowd, she asked me if being unemployed was going to cause any difficulty in paying bills.

Well... Ahem... I am going to struggle a little there....

She leaned forward and with her very best air of legal dominance, stared me in the face and warned me that her services don't come for free, with which she got up to leave.

I have heard stories about that, I responded with a certain cheekiness. I swear she restrained a guffaw. Nonetheless, the battle for justice continues.

Rain Rain Go Away...

Forecaster love bad weather. They really do. Any possibility of horrendous conditions and they bring out the warning signs, describing the likeliehood of death by drizzle in such enthusiastic tones. Last night they warned of a cyclone crossing the country, bringing with wet and windy weather.

I have to say I'm a little disappointed. Here in Swindon it has been somewhat damp but as yet, no terrific downpours. Hardly a breath of wind either. In fact, as I glance out the library window, I can see... Ahhh.... yes... Well that's okay, I have my waterproofs with me.

Visit of the Week

Earlier today I visited the National Monument Record. It's a large library of documents and so forth based in a former office of the Great Western Works. The lady on the security desk told me to observe the restrictions on items brought inside. They do provide lockers so I went through the list to see what needed to be stowed away before I entered. Almost everything. Oh well.

I must say, the staff are very cheery, very helpful, and pointed me in the direction of the information I was after. Thing is though, there's also a kind of spooky atmosphere in there. I can't really imagine any headless draughtsmen wandering around the aisles. Given this was a drawing office in times gone by, I suspect the only deaths were down to boredom.

The reason for my unease was that everyone seems to look at you in a certain disapproving judgemental manner. You can't help feeling that you're intruding upon an inner sanctum, in a place of reverence fit only for the pure of academic image. I wonder if I could get away with making a sudden loud noise? I used to get paid for doing that. Maybe not, eh? Come on Caldrail, grow up.

Anyway I still have another six thousand photographs of muddy ditches to trawl through. Wow. What an exciting life I lead. I can feel myself turning into a ghost already....