Sometimes I wonder if falling over is a communicable disease. A former boss, DS, has long demonstrated a complete inability to stay on her feet, drunk or sobre. It seems I'm starting to show signs of the same affliction.

My task for the day was simple. I have one of those desktop lamps that doesn't have a bulb to fit it. So I set off with the aim to find a suitable light bulb with which to illuminate the darkened recesses of my hovel. Unfortunately the lamp happens to be one of those old Woolworths types, and since the whole shopping chain went bust a while back, there aren't any bulbs to fit. After several attempts it was becoming obvious I was on a lost cause. Instead, I decided it was probably easier to find a shop that sold new desktop lamps.

That wasn't so easy. One shop I found looked like the sort of domestic equipment store that might sell these items. It didn't. Then I found another that did, but they had sold the last one a few minutes earlier. Sorry. Oh good grief, how many ex-Woolworth shoppers are there?

At the end of the street was a potential vendor. I'd never been in there before so with some resigned optimism I decided to give it one last try. As I entered I discovered the floor tiles were incompatible with worn trainers, dead leaves, and damp conditions. Without any warning, I came down quite heavily. It did hurt. With all the compensation culture that goes on I suppose I could have have made a big deal over it, but then, I'm really not that convincing as a victim of a serious accident. In any case I tend to grin and bear it. So I got up, breathed out, and noticed everyone looking at me.

Show's over people, you can go about your business. Caldrail has left the building.

Tall Ships and Oil To Fund Them

Looking through those specialist magazines in the library I spotted one about steam engineering. It was pretty much what I expected, cute branch railways almost given over entirely to nature and picture postcard villages, though I study one article about a horse-driven tramway serving a quarry in days of yore. Quite interesting, and an eye-opener to the weight those horses had to haul up and down inclines.

The real bonus though was an article about merchant ships carrying oil under sail. These were tall ships with rows of canvas and rigging sailing the waters around England in the 1900's that had been fitted out to carry oil instead of whatever cargoes they'd been built for. I'm not into ships at all, but the photographs showed some seriously elegant vessels, seven masted, modernesque hulls, sails full of wind as they ploughed through the waves. It's a lost world.

Shortest Gig of the Week

Morrisey had been due to play a gig in Swindon over the weekend, at the Oasis sports centre. Apparently he sang one song then was rushed to hospital.

No really, it happened. And the great thing is, I don't have to draw any fatuous conclusions at all.