This morning I had to report at the programme centre for another course on how to do what I've been doing for two years already, just in case I was getting rusty or I'd forgotten how. Another day spent learning the deeper mysteries of seeking employment. The lady at the help desk in the foyer looked a bit confused when I tiold her who I was.

"Is that your name or your title?" She asked somewhat carefully. That's my title dear. She carried on looking confused. I've come to the conclusion that not looking exactly like Nigel Havers is seriously harming my street credibility.

To be fair, the courses aren't so bad. There's a sociable atmosphere even between the mix of complete strangers (and sometimes completly strangle people) and you get a free lunch. Literally. Nothing like a prepackaged sandwich and packet of crisps to make the day go by. They did ask us whether anyone had any dietary requirements. The urge to say "Three course meal absolutley necessary" was immense.

In the News

On my way to the programme centre I passed through Wharf Green, a public space beside the shopping mall in town. There's a huge television bolted to the side of the multi-storey car park so passers-by can see the weather report on television, a useful civic asset when they could be suffering from inclement weather without realising.

I did a double take when I spotted 'Swindon' on the scrolling headlines at the bottom of the screen. Swindon? In the news? It's gotta be bad... It is. A father and son team have been loan sharking. And some people thought my blog was bad for Swindons image.

Also I notice a better railway link is planned between Swindon and Gloucestershire. There's already a railway line that goes there, used mostly by rickety old diesel multiple units, though a part of me wonders why a swish new rail link is necessary. It isn't as if anyone wants to go to Gloucester either. Or maybe they do? maybe there's strong public pressure to open public transport to a world outside of Swindon. The locals can cope with the M4 corridor, we've had that since the 1970's, but Gloucester? Children will stare in wonder at fanciful maps with 'Here be dragons' and long lost towns named Gloucester.

Of course we Swindoners know Gloucester is a myth. How can it be real, when the world is flat and ends on the borders of town, except London and Bristol, faraway places reached by the M4 corridor if you own a set of mules and a floppy leather stetson. Or maybe... Just maybe... There is a world outside Swindon?

Wierd Or What?

Over the last hundred years or so the universe has gotten steadily wierder. Now apart from me, there's been all sorts of discoveries in physics that have turned our conception of the universe from invasions of martians to vibrating multi-planar exotic shapes of collosal and dynamic sizes. And we still don't know why it happened in the first place, although God and a few others of his supernatural kind have tried to take the credit for it. Their worshippers have fought wars over it.

Now I read that data gathered by scientific observation indicates that the universe is not consistent. Apparently the laws of physics might vary according to where you are inside it. Now isn't that wierd? Who knows? One day I might wake up and be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Better hurry up though, I'm not getting any younger.