In the past I've always encountered a certain level of apathy from my various employers. Sometimes it's because they don't believe my initiatives will work, or perhaps prefer to give the credit to someone else. Sometimes it's because I've been pigeon-holed, pure and simple. Finally, after quarter of a century, I've pushed through one of the major obstacles to my progress in the workplace. They're going to train me to drive forklifts.

I have my claims advisor to thank for that. He certainly exceeded most of my expectations but I was correct. So far he too has refused to recognise my title. At least he was a good deal more polite about that than Bovine Betty. She promised to change it on their system as well. We'll see if he means what he says.

Nonetheless I now have some work training to attend. The factory where I'm going to receive this education is on an industrial estate less than half an hours walk from where I live. It also happens to be a nice day. One of those days where great dramatic clumps of white and grey cumulus attempt to drown out the blue sky, reminiscent of those old railway jigsaws I used to assemble when I was a child (we didn't have Playstations in those days). It's a nice day. I have a good feeling about this.

Civic Improvement

The route to the factory is along the main shopping concourse. The contractors who were ripping up the pavement for whatever reason are still at it. Swathes of the pedestrianised street are fenced off from muddy trenches. The department store whose wall nearly collapsed on top of passers-by is still under construction, merely a framework of light grey girders, upon which a line of builders sit watching the world go by. But they have finished the water feature.

It's a pair of concrete slabs with a corrugated wavy surface down which water is allowed to run. As far as I can see, all it does is cause a damp patch on the pavement. Should fit right into the local landscape then.

Birthday Prezzie Of The Week

There are people in this town who believe I have always lived a life of relative wealth and privilege. They believe this despite the fact that some of them earned more than I did by way of overtime and promotions. Truth is I've always worked at just the same jobs as them. In any case, as an unemployed person I'm not that wealthy, title or not. I had to laugh at the furore about a certain celebrity, whose sixteen year old son has just received a