Last night I thought I would spoil myself and go for a takeaway. I know, it's expensive, unhealthy, but compared to the rather bland food I normally eat, it makes a welcome change. A little of what you fancy dies you good. So after an archaeological dig into my trousers I discovered an ancient five pound note, still legible after all those years of lying fallow in sweaty conditions. Time then to hit the streets!

It must have been a while since I last ventured out into the sunday evening of rainy old Swindon. I never remembered it being this dead. The streets were almost empty and apart from being followed by a pair of drunks with nothing to do but make loud noises, no-one stirred as I wandered from fast food outlet to fast food outlet in the vain hope of finding one open.

Eventually I did. As it turned out the burgers were very good quality, far better than the plastic mass produced variety you nornally get at McDonalds. The two drunks ambled in after me, clearly unable to decide for themselves what to do on a quiet sunday evening, and clearly puzzled that they needed to purchase food in order for it to be eaten, and luckily for all concernced, too puzzled to get angry about it. They wandered off to be noisy somewhere else.

Doing My Chores

Life in Swindon isn't all rain showers and empty sunday streets. It isn't all fast food and traffic wardens. Like everywhere else, the great unwashed have to get on with their job searching and that includes me. The government are setting a new regime in which anyone who fails to adequately impress the world with their efforts to find work will be lined up against the wall and shot (thus no longer requiring expensive benefits). For now, I'm not at risk of execution but that's only because I maintain a level of jobsearching that puts a warm glow on the faces of claims advisors, or at least when I manage to convibnce them I'm not making false claims.

They say a job seeker should treat his search like a vocation. I think I pretty much do that already. Which means I've been working on my job search for three years without a holiday. All work and no play makes Caldrail a dull interviewee. Not sure the secret police of the Department of Works & Pensions will see it that way.