I happened to spot a book at my local library today, memoirs of a man named Alfred Williams, who was born in 1877 and spent twenty years in the Great Western Railways workshops in Swindon. It seems that he was a man who enjoyed the Great Outdoors more than the hellish graft of his daily grind (literally). In his own words...

One has to die before his mates in the shed would think there is anything the matter with him. Then, in nine cases out of ten - especially if he happens to be one of the poorest and most unfortunate - he is mercilessly sneered over. Probably that was his own fault. They even blame him for dying; in three days he is almost totally forgotten. Cruel hearts and feelings are bred in the atmosphere of the factory

Life in a Railway Factory (Alfred Williams)

I doubt it would suprise Alfred one jot that life in Swindon displays similar attitudes today, though his frank and dystopic vision of victorian industry is one born of a man with no sympathy for working class tribalism. I do understand Mr Williams plight, as his attempts to learn greek by scribing verses in wet tar are erased by his workmates when his back is turned. You know I used to think such ignorance was a modern phenomenon. It seems that nothing really changes very much at all.

Shock Announcement

At my Work Experience session our resident sex-change person tells us that she(?) "Brought some dinner money today".

Wow. Never would have guessed that in a million years. Joking aside though, I always find these people very uncomfortable to be around. Their need to create relationships with their workmates is understandable (and I do mean the platonic kind), but there's always a sense they're trying to catch a fish. Ugh.

It so happened that the person concerned stood up for no apparent reason and made a personal statement about their condition and why they chose to turn into females. It got polite applause from most of the audience. I didn't. Not because the person was wierd or anything, but because it seemed a little less than spontaneous. My suspicions were proved right. This person explains the situation courageously to every group she(?) encounters. For this person it's all a plea for attention, not some desperate need to right natures big mistake.

Lecture of the Week

Today we had a three hour talk by an ex-policeman. It was strange to hear of a man who'd served between 1974 and 1992 in South Wales Police and became a down-and-out afterward, but there you go. It's been observed before that policemen are always such insufferable dullards. Trust me on this. Three hours of misfortune is a lot to take in without yawning. I fell asleep during the bit where he... ahhh... What was it he did?

What a caring world we live in.