Yesterday began with a bright sunny day. Don' t you just feel a lift when that happens? A bright new day, just waiting to be enjoyed. I set out that morning in a good mod. Especially useful since the Job Centre had sent me on one of those "How to find a job" courses.

Strolling into town the familiar sound of an RAF Hercules transport droned overhead. I've watched those aeroplanes flying over Swindon on their way into Lyneham airbase for forty years or so. It felt a bit poignant, because soon Lyneham will close and the Hercules will fly elsewhere. Into the history books if what I hear about military spending cuts is correct. Finally, the Cold War era is coming to an end, and with it, the last vestige of twentieth century power. It genuinely feels saddening that Britain will fade as a world power.

My own battle to find a job continues, so after I sat in the pleasant sunshine for a while watching the big screen television on the side of a multistory car park at Wharf Green, wondering at the incredibly dull testimony of Mia Farrow in some strange court trial, I reported for duty at the programme centre.

Back On The Farm

These courses are always fairly similar. It feels like a return to infant school, and by her own admission, the tutor wants to be a primary school teacher. We were the usual collection of flotsam and jetsam of the unemployed population, although sensibly the youngsters were next door, and to our suprise no waifs and strays turned up late.

Mr S was a plump afro-carribean guy, a man for whom haste and stress were alien concepts. Incredibly chilled out does not even begin to describe his personality. He spent the entire six hour session draped over a chair oblivious to the world around him. Even when we were asked as an exercise to review the worst CV ever written, he thought our rejection was harsh. "Give the guy a break, he wants to work." He said. You're all heart S. But we like your cool.

FR turned up. We're old friends and even played alongside each other on stage in the past. Inevitably we got talking about music, and commended Mr S to discard Rap and Hip-Hop for the predictable delights of classic rock. It was unnerving to discover he knew more about it than I did.

Backing Away

By the time we got to our first break, I was desperate for a widdle. The toilets were shared with the other room where the youngsters laughed and threw paper darts as a means of improving their employment chances. I'll assume you all know the ritual involved in relieving your bladder. Ask an adult if you don't know how.

I noticed some giggles from behind a closed cubicle door. I guessed that someone was enjoying some reading matter. Given how young he sounded, and how funny he thought the prose was, you have to wonder if he wasn't looking at the pictures instead.

Finally he burst out the cubicle grinning. And then I realised another kiddie was in there with him. I see. Well I hope you two had a good time. Ahem.

Wrong Kind Of Thief On The Rails

Silly goings on in toilets are typical of the British. We love toilet humour. Cubicles have long been temples of working class wisdom. We also have a long tradition of assuming things are ours if they ain't nailed down. I saw a news report when I was sat in the sun at Wharf Green that morning said that some skallywags had disrupted railway services in Wiltshire by nicking metal from the lines. These days, it seems, nailing it down isn't enough.

Bang

As sunsets go, that was nice. Orange and grey clouds, a dark band on the horizon fringed in bright yellow, almost as if the clouds were on fire. Sigh. Oh well, time to watch the evening news and catch up with the daily report of how everyone is blowing the other side up. Later there's film about the battle for Stalingrad. Lots of explosions there too.

Mind you, talking about bangs, Enemy At The Gates has what I believe to be one of the best love scenes ever filmed. Seriously. In most films that bother the hero and his girl romp around on a bed from various angles and it all looks exactly what it is - fake sex. As if people actually do it like that. In the Stalingrad film, the hero and his girl covertly have it away lying amongst rows of exhausted soldiers and trying not to get caught. Brilliant. Well acted and believable.