caldrail

Cultural identity is a suprisingly persistent beast. Even today, the welsh harbour disdain for the english, a remnant of the native celts pushed aside by germanic or gaulish settlers, especialy after the settlement of the Dark Ages. That doesn't mean the galatians were identical in every to the colonists who first arrived there, but I doubt they saw themselves as hellenised even if that was the case.

The Old College site is proving suprisingly contentious. I see one good citizen of our borough is fuming and declaring the development to be less than impressive. What does he want, Massive monuments and tall glass towers? Of course he does. It's part of the human psyche to seek urban aggrandisement by making tall buildings. Personally, I think another glass carbuncle is extacly what the area doesn't need. It'll look ridiculous, a flashy tall modern building surrounded by run-down victorian terraces and dumped rubbish. That certainly will make a statementn about Swindon. The other issue is crime. Critics of the new shopping mall have stated that it will open a new avenue for late night revellers moving up and down the hill late at night, causing problems for residents in the nearby streets. I mean, where has this guy been for the last few decades? We've already got late night revellers causing all sorts of damage in the local area. What difference is a shopping mall going to make? Birds At The Lake And I though the geese had gone. To my suprise, the squadron noisily arrived at the park this morning for a formation landing which was carried out with precision. Back from their hols? The other day I saw the two swans plodding along the pavement by the lake. Normally they float around the lake or chase off birds they don't like, but this was hilarious. Everyone giving them a wide berth as they wandered along the lakeside, looking so incredibly self-important, and I suspect enjoying their status as senior members of the Park citizenry. Talking Rubbish Again The latest community newsletter tells me that councillors have been busy clearing away rubbish dumped in our area. Not where I live they haven't. Maybe it looked better on the publicity photo.

Yes... I see... But cheap mobiles just don't compensate for good old fashioned Roman values such as orgies and feasting.

The mistake here is assuming the emperors were controlling the economy. Some had a hand in directing it, but the attitude of the upper classes was never to muddy their hands (at least publicly) in business. Certainly they raised taxes at times, but that's simply demanding an increase in revenue, not financial control, which was left to lesser functionaries to administer, and one suspects most of them were less than contientous.

Soviet Rome? That seems a little far fetched to me. Fundamentally the empire was carrying on business as usual, albeit with a different politcal organisation, but that simply amounted to power sharing at the top. If anything, it was the failure of successors to maintain good order that ruined things. After all, the civil war that followed Diocletians reign can be said to be responsible for Constantines patronage and eventual adoption of christianity as the state religion, paving the way for the christian west in later times. The seeds of economic decline were planted much earlier, the empire living of the fat of former times, but remember that it was Contantine who moved wealth to the east and thus created conditions for western decay, whereas the Byzantines persisted for centuries.

Whilst I agree broadly with your point, please be aware that there were anti-slavery intiatives in Medieval times. These were largely forgotten when exploration opened up new areas for colonisation and indigenous populations to exploit, sometimes aided by the locals themselves.

I've been doing some reading on this point and although Diodorus may have inherited information from the explorer Pytheas, he does no more than mention the regular astronomical cycle of the moon in Britain. Hardly firm evidence. Attempts to portray Stonehenge as a Roman monument have not proven credible. There is no further mention of anything which might be identified with Stonehenge in classical texts, either from Julius Caesar, writing c.55 BC, or from any other writer during the whole of the 360 years or so that Britain was a province of Rome. Apart from what may have been a single inscribed lead tablet, nio archaeological evidence has been found to suggest that any formal or organised religious activity took place around Stonehenge at this time; the absence of significance interest is probably part due to its relative remoteness, as the occaisiaonal finds of pottery and coins suggest no more than the casual detritus left by passing travellers. The obvious conclusion is that the site had been deserted and its associations forgotten long before Britain became part of the Roman Empire, its outward appearance already one of abandonment and decay. Solving Stonehenge (Anthony Johnson)

Walking home on sunday lunchtime I came across a lady walking her dog. Out of curiosity I engaged her in conversation about her canine companion, which turned out to be a Husky. We get a few breeds that are similar, such as Alaskan Mamelutes and such, but most of those have thicker coats so I didn't recognise this one. The Husky in question was a perky little animal, friendly, and very keen on pulling its owner across Swindon. Whilst I was chatting a couple passed by with their bruiser of a dog, stocky build and short face. The two dogs immediately started wagging tails and approached each other for a sniff, as dogs do. "Be good." Said the others dog's owner, "It just wants to get to know you." The Husky dived in, up close and personal. I'm not sure what the correct phrase is for that particular activity, but rest assured the terrier was not displeased. Yep.... Thats what I call call getting to know you.... I mean, dogs just don't care, do they? This was graphic stuff, right in front of all witnesses, and we all burst out laughing. What if humans behaved like that? Can you imagine, an interested woman walking up to you all smiles and wiggly bottom, asking you to drop your trousers in the street? Why do human beings make such a big deal out of courting? All that teenage angst, endless preparation, damage to the liver, impaired hearing, endless advice on how to be good at it, visits to the doctor when you are, and so forth. A part of me thinks it ought be like the films. One action sequence, a blast of violin music, and away you go. hey, how could a century of Hollywood block-busters possibly be wrong? On The Box One of the downsides of all these new television channels is that I now receive a handful of x-rated ones. Yopu might ask why that's a problem. Well, a couple of nights ago I got curious and investigated this source of lewd and decadent entertainment, purely in the name of scientific research you understand. One channel showed a woman doing slow motion gymnastics to get you make a phone call before the channel encrypted itself. Lots of quickfire adverts showing various women enjoying themselves and such, but mostly a grinning lady waving a mobile phone at the camera. Nope, not excited. Another channel was a pair of young ladies in a paddling pool together. Now this looks more promising. "We've been naughty" One enticed me to see more, "We've both had girl on girl action and we liked it." So... Do they do action replays? Or is this just two girls chatting in a paddling pool? "So phone us now on 0123456789" And there they were, filmed chatting on the phone. Is is just me, or do dogs get a better deal than humans? Face it, the mobile phone is destroying decadence as we know it.

Seven hours. Seven. That's how long it took me to compile the paperwork the Job Centre have asked for concerning my last fortnight of job searching. Come monday morning I'm going to slap those wads of paper on the desk and believe me, sparks will fly if they get shirty over it. The trouble is, there's a claims advisor there who doesn't like me very much. He's a very urbane, serious type, and for him any hint of jollity from a claimant is a sign that not enough tyranny has been wrought upon the hapless hordes of useless spongers in his care. Given the forms I had to fill in were dubious to begin with (I've mentioned that before) one gets the idea they want to slap me down. I am, after all, a somewhat irreverent character. His purple shirt, dark tie, and the worlds most anonymous haircut (it just sits on his head like a lump of hair) might for some give off the image of bureaucratic superiority that he seems to desire, but to me it just doesn't. He so wants to be taken seriously and instead comes across as ridiculously pompous. He's already interviewed me and warned me three times that it was in my interest to be honest. Clearly my protestations of innocence fell on deaf ears. He has, in true bureaucratic style, filed me as 'dubious character'. That's what you get for not being as miserable as he is. This does seem to happen sometimes, in all walks of life, not just dole claiming. We are social animals and occaisionally one member of the community feels he has a right to demand subservience of the others, and the general idea is to force the other to beg for forgiveness. I've had that done to me in the workplace and it never worked there either. Some people can beg for breakfast. They just say whatever is going to please their superior, and live to fight another day. I can't do that. It's called honour. I can recall a quote from someone who once said that "You can lose anything in life, but never lose your honour". Obviously he wasn't surviving on benefits. Car Park Woes The Granville Street car park is a busy place during shopping hours. Nothing grand, just a block of housing demolished decade ago and turned into a ground level arena of car driving competition for spaces. There's even a one way system, carefully marked out in white paint, which the ravenous shopprs ignore in their quest to get that space before the other guy. I felt sorry for the old gent I saw driving around the area in his safe little hatchback. He was crawling along at less than walking pace, trying to spot an available space with eyes past their best, and once he'd managed to find a vacant spot and claim it as his own, crushed the wing of his car against a metal bollard. Poor chap. He tried so hard to park safely. Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch Did I ever mention my neighbours? They seem to be getting on better with each other now. Yesterday afternoon she giggled and barricaded herself in the bedroom while the boyfriend tried to push open the door. Later they had a singing contest. It's like living above 'Conan The Rogers And Hammerstein'. What?... Did he get in? I dunno, but at least they were quiet for ten minutes.

The name 'Galatia' means 'Land of the Gauls'. It's likely then he was preaching to colonists/descendants of gaulish origin.

I'm not aware of any written accounts but the Romans almost certainly knew it was there and had checked it out, since the site had been a major religious focus in times past. The last observable modification was around 1600BC and it may well be that by Roman times the site was well past its best. Both roman and medieval artifacts have been found there which indicates the site was still being visited. Perhaps it was a tourist site back then too? The location of Stonehenge is two miles from Vespasians Camp, which although has no formal links to roman occupation, indicates habitation in the Iron Age prior and pssibly throughout the roman period. A decapitated man buried in the 7th century was found at Stonehenge in 1923, so the site had some significance in the Dark Ages, which is probably unavoidable because the site is close to Amesbury, recognised as a possible refuge for troops under the command of Ambrosius Aurelianus in the late 5th century, who warred against the Thames Valley Saxons for a considerable time, and it's know that Saxons were living in Wiltshire at this time. I suspect the Romans left it alone to a large degree. They were superstitious and observed the influence of local gods where-ever they went. The religious nature of the monument must have been obvious to them, and since it was no longer the focus of religious life that it had once been, there was little reason to assimilate the 'local god'.

It's a big deal because historically christianity was developed as a secondary government in Roman times - Marcellinus makes some comments on that issue - and back at the end of the 11th century, we came perilously close to a Papal Empire stretching across Europe. Don't get me wrong. You've chosen to be a christian, and that's your right as far as I'm concerned. There is however a difference between belief and religion. Belief is what you hold to be true, religion is what someone tells you to believe. The modern Pope represents a figurehead for religious politicans of the Vatican who are, for all intents and purposes, making themselves very comfortable indeed. That they have their hand in things we would consider controversial isn't easy to prove, but I note that perverts and terrorists have found sanctuary under the cloth. I cannot belive these religious authorities didn't know something about what was going on. They choose not to act for fear of upsetting the apple cart, and ruining it for themselves. Therefore they put a Pope in the window every so often and the punters go home happy.

Politics. The wars of the Republic weren't always expanionist conquests as is popularly imagined, but sometimes situations and crises forced on them by other nations. Granted the Romans were always up for a fight as martial virtue had been part of their culture right from the beginning, but Rome had suffered defeats in their early history and really once their influence expanded into the Mediterranean all that changed was the scale of conflict.

Doesn't sound quite right, does it? Still, we'll see. I even gave the remake of Flight of the Pheonix a fair chance. Still prefer the original. Feels more real, more attached to reality. Couldn't handle the remakes 'flying off into the sunset' ending though. Gah!

I know when I'm beaten

I opened the curtains this morning to see a clear blue sky. That happens sometimes, and there's no reason to be concerned, because the sky usually clouds over within a couple of hours. There's a very lazy mood in Swindon right now. The garage mechanics across the yard are more bothered about cups of tea than mechanical problems, but then they always were. The yard isn't full of cars either, but then, with all the rubbish being deposited in the alleyway that allows access, that's no wonder. Over the last few days I've seen a crowd of suits, shirts, and ties wandering down the back road toward the rear gate of the Old College site. Given how rough that part of town is, old victorian brick terraces filled with thieves, layabouts, and druggies, they do get noticed. Looks as if the site will be demolished soon. I was tempted to ask the security man if I could wander around outside and take some pictures of the old place now it's covered with foliage (looking very post-apocalyptic), but he had that 'Don't mess with me, son' demeanour having waited all morning for the VIP's to turn up. Sometimes you just know you're asking for trouble. Unusual Car Spotted I came out of the internet cafe on Commercial Road and hey, what's that? A brutal, muscular car in silver paint parked around the corner. I couldn't resist the temptation to wander past and give it a perusal. It turned out to be a new model Camaro, a suprisingly charismatic vehicle, this one on french plates of all things. You don't see that every day. I'm not sure I want one, but it certainly grabs the attention in dour residential Swindon. Who? I've just a rumour that a Pope has been seen in Britain. Why is everyone fawning over him? I don't get it. Okay, he's the head of a religion, but let's be honest, he's just a guy in a funny costume who pops his head out of a window every so often. I thought God had a monopoly on worship? It was however nice of him to praise Britain for its stand against extremism, such as Hitlers Nazi regime in World War Two. So he should. At least we actually did something about it. Now, what was that about not dealing decisively with child abusers in the Roman Catholic Church?

Bah! Humbug! Why would I spend oodles of cash on therapy? I've got a copy of Grand Theft Auto on my computer. I'm currently taking over San Andreas. Nobody likes me. Only this way I get to shoot people and stuff heh heh heh oh. Darn. Busted. Now I'll have to start over outside the local police station... Life is so unfair...

If anyone out there hasn't heard about it, this year is the seventieth anniversary of the Battle of Britain. Germans are groaning and shaking their heads. Frenchmen snort and dismiss the whole thing. Americans scratch their heads and wonder how we won it without their air force. Russians declare they won it first. Okay, once more they showed the 1968 Battle of Britain film. Again. But I watched it all the same, even with those horrible non-1940's mistakes. It was after all a fairly accurate war drama that depicted real events, even allowing for the dramatisation and 60's demeanour of the actors. I can't help it. I'm a complete sucker for Spitfires in warpaint. Last night though they showed First Light, a docu-drama based on the memoirs of Geoffery Wellum, the youngest pilot to take part in the battle. I can excuse the use of a later MkIX Spitfire (real BoB veterans are thin on the ground) but what pleased me was the patina they reproduced. It reeked of 1940's atmosphere. Excellent. Could I do It? A chap at work once asked me if I could fly a spitfire. He knew I flew modern cessnas and such, and he was genuinely curious. I thought about it for a moment and told him that yes, in theory, I could. The spitfire was an aeroplane like any other, it does the same things. It did add a note of caution. I pointed out that I wasn't trained to fly taildraggers, referring to the undercarriage arrangement which demands different skills, and that the spitfire was ten or twenty times more powerful than the aeroplanes I flew, and thus much faster, more demanding, and so forth. For me it would be like learning to drive in a beat-up old mini then getting into a racing car and expecting to stay on the road. But I so want to give it a try! The thing is though is that the Spitfire was designed to fend off the Luftwaffe from our shores. It was good at that, if not entirely perfect, and the airframes they built were not expected to last more than ten hours of operational flying. That's worth remembering. Buried Here Another documentary had one veteran of the battle visit the site where his Hawker Hurricane fighter went down. The archaeologist pulled a bit of metal out of the ground. A handrail, that would have been rivetted to the canopy, probably the last bit of aeroplane that man handled before he baled out in a moment of frantic terror. He was visibly affected by handling it again. As Geoffery Wellum said - "People ask how I can remember all of this. How do they think I can forget it?" On A Different Note The war has left us with more than a few treasured airframes and fantasies. I've just discovered that in the middle of the channel between the Medway and the Thames is an old freighter that sank in a storm, broken in two at anchor as the weight of cargo stressed the hull too far. The cargo was a consignment of munitions. Everything from cluster bombs to one thousand pounder heavies the British and Americans used to haul across European skies to pummel German industry and infrastructure. The vessel is now in a poor condition, threatening to fall apart in the next decade, and if the contents should for any reason ignite - the estimated explosive force would equal a small atomic bomb according to experts, producing a shockwave that would register around the world on earthquake detectors. That sort of puts things in perspective.

This does represent an interesting change of emphasis in Roman religious life. The old pagan temples are places of individual commune. It's the same principle as approaching your patron of a morning and asking for favours, possibly offering some service or something by way of a deal. So the pagan worshipper offers a small sacrifice (and archaeology has shown evidence there were market stalls attached so you could buy the required sacrificial object beforehand - How very Roman) and makes his request. Christian worship of course is very much a communal affair and designed to be from the outset. Whereas an individual in private can request anything he likes, a congregation has a oderating effect on the members, a sort of peer pressure to observe certain behaviour, and in any case, you don't ask God in his temples for favours good or bad. Instead, you're asking to be considered as worthy. Because this recent amphitheatre has a religious context, does that represent a communal service? This might represent christian influence or does it represent religion as entertainment? That might seem a strange concept. Bear with me. Gladiatorial combat used similar facilities all over the empire and we know that despite it's blood sport appeal, it was based on religious observances, and retained much of the significance even though commercialisation had thoroughly converted the genre into a thriving business. So what if a pagan priest (for the sake of speculation) had decided to draw in more punters? Perhaps his 'sacrifice market stand' wasn't bringing in enough cash? So he begins to invite performances of a religious theme. Not quite the conformal mass worship of the christian era (though I accept that might well have been the case), but a pagan priest doing much the same as a modern christian preacher - putting on a show and making a handsome profit?

What a miserable, rotten, rainy day. Sorry to go on a downer, but it just couldn't be any greyer. A fine drizzle driven by blustery winds is definitely dampening my spirit. But Yahoo has the answer. Twelve tips to brighten your otherwise dreary day. Okay. Let's have a look. 1. Resist the urge to

Today I thought I'd stop by the park and spend a few moments enjoying the quiet of a monday morning before having to get on with the real one. As mondays go, this does actually appear to be none too busy. The hill was devoid of cars completely, so either everyones on holiday this week, or the signs displaying the number of parking spaces are working. As it happens, a flock of seabirds have dropped in to enjoy the lake as well. Now they ain't quiet. Frenetic activity everywhere, a constant chorus of caws and eek-eek-eek (Bill Oddie I'm not) made it look like a bunch of ill mannered youths wandering into a devonshire tea-room and demanding lager and pinball machines. One poor duck stood his ground and regretted it. The seabirds pounced on him, hovering and pecking at him. Normally the two resident swans float about serenely and regally. Not any more. Incensed at the rude behaviour of their visitors they decided enough was enough. Both of them shot across the lake, wings beating, leaving a considerable wake, determined to teach these seabirds a lesson, and for once the visitors knew they'd outstayed their welcome. They scattered. Probably a wise move. Angry swans are somewhat formidable. And so peace returned to the lake in Queens park. The seabirds, realising they were going to get whipped for bad behaviour, settled down, and everyone lived happily ever after. Where Are They? On the other hand, I notice the absence of geese. Have they flown south for the winter already? Or are they missing, presumed eaten? Another Day, Another Car As pleasant as it is, I must head back to the hurly burly of life on monday morning. Things seem to be going on as much as before. I see in the news a new supercar is being launched. An entreneur has pushed his AF10 project into the public and hopes the exclusivity will attract people with enough money in their wallets to purchase what is a very expensive car. Looks quite good, I must admit, a low low sports car always raises my pulse rate, especially if it has a bodywork with some allusions to artisitic flair. Hang on though... Isn't this the same guy who released a car a couple of years ago? Is this the same car, re-launched?

The doorbell rang yesterday. Usually when that happens it's a visitor for the downstairs crowd who hasn't realised that two doorbell buttons means you have to choose the right one. Occaisionally I get someone at the door asking wierd questions and I'll have to put that down to mistaken identity. Sometimes there's no-one there at all. Having disentangled myself from the headphones, picked myself back off the floor having tripped on he cables, and repositioning te objects I knocked over, not to mention a perilous descent down the steep and treachorous stairs, I opened the door and.... No-one. Brilliant. Well I'll have a look outside to see if anyone gave up waiting for me to extract myself from my home. As it happens, I didn't need to. An energetic young blonde lady leapt into view and breathlessly apologised for not realising I was actually going to open the door. Normally I dismiss charity salespersons but in this case, seeing as she was so pretty and apologetic, I'll listen. To be honest, she hardly got a word in edgeways. Once someone starts trying to tell me about how the planet is going to the dogs I start on my sermon pointing out that things aren't necessarily the way the climate change brigade like to imagine them, rather like I did in the previous blog entry. (Sorry Your Highness, but you really have been listening to a lot of twaddle) It didn't matter because she wasn't going to get any money out of me anyway. So I apologised and promised to give her a plug. That didn't come out the way I intended. New Home For Nessie? Lake Windemere in the north of England is now being searched for a mysterious monster said to be making appearances. It now exceeds the number of Loch Ness sightings. My guess is that Nessie has had kids and they've found themselves a rented lake south of the border. Nice area, plenty of room, only 13,000 years old. Soon to have posters of Che Guevara and traffic cones decorating the depths, not to mention lots of visitors with sonar and underwater cameras. You know, maybe we should just let Nessie alone. I mean she's been swimming around our lakes for millenia now and doesn't harm anyone (except possibly once, during the Iron Age, when a raft was reportedly attacked by a sea serpent, but hey, we all lose our temper sometimes, huh?). Would you like the natural history paparazzi dogging your every move? Or Bill Oddie camped out by the edge of your lake? Or David Attenborough popping in for tea and biscuits? Sooner or later, if the Nessie's are really there, there'll be a newspaper report with a smiling fisherman proudly displaying his mammoth prize catch of the day. That's the trouble with human beings. We like hunting, fishing, trapping, and selling our prey so that we can put our feet up in comfort. The Promised Plug Ladies and Gentleman, pease spare a thought for animals, because we've been a bit selfish towards them. Support the World Wildlife fund and make an animal happy. World Wildlife Fund

Buckingham Palace isn't happy. The climate is changing. And Prince Charles is dumbfounded by sceptics of Global Warming. Look Your Highness, it really is very simple. There are a lot of people claiming CO2 is destroying the planet. It isn't. The CO2 cycle is almost as old as the planet itself, and for most of Earths history, the level of CO2 in the atmosphere was way above what we have today by orders of magnitude. CO2 has been rising again for millions of years, long before we invented dark satanic mills.. As for passing a 'malfunctioning' planet on to our children, what a laughable concept. Do you really believe we can actually control the Earth to that degree? Of course it isn't malfunctioning. It's changing. It always changes. It always has. If the planet becomes an uncomfortable place for us then it's likely we'll die out, just like any other species whose favourite enviroment has vanished. Can we actually combat climate change? No. We might be able to avoid some of the worst excesses of mankind but keep the planet as a perfect paradise? How? There aren't any levers to puill. There aren't any convenient switches. Making lots of impassioned speeches will only add to the amount of hot air anyway. In any case, CO2 isn't that much of a worry. Other gases, like methane, are far worse. And as human beings grow in number, as we farm intensively more and more, that's where the problem is coming from. Stop telling everyone to use their cars less, and tell them instead to stop farting. In any case, if you feel that badly about it, sell the Aston Martin. Hey, it's a start. I hope that relieves your dumbfoundness. Trouble At Mill I see in the news that George Osbourne is planning to tackle 'benefits lifestyle'. Does he actually believe I have a lifestyle at all? I had to give up flying aeroplanes. I had to give up driving fast cars. Heck, I've even had to give up socialising on a regular basis. Does he think I'm enjoying it? His stated aim is to persuade people to go back to work. Thanks, but I don't need to be persuaded, I need to pay my bills. And it's no good complaining about the money I'm costing the government. What about MP's wages? You earn a great deal more for sitting on your backsides and making our lives difficult. Foossil of the Week They've discovered a new dinosaur. Sadly, it too expired lots of millions of years ago, but this one apparently had a tall spine on it's back to communicate with others of its species. That's what the news report says. So.... These dinosaurs had radio aerials mounted on their backs? Cool.

There was program on last night called Bad Boys of the Blitz which detailed the flourishing crime scene and penal regime of World War Two Britain. Most of this activity had been hushed up by the authorities during the war for propaganda purposes, amnd the point was made that our current problems with law and order date back to this time. I had to laugh though. One old crook was interviewed and with a serious look on his face told us that "whenever there's a war you get outbreaks of violence". No kidding. Meanwhile, Back At The Advertising Agency The bouyant lady who phoned me yesterday afternoon offered me an interview today and instructions on how to find it. The address was in Old Town, so hard could that be? Across the street from the wine bar... Got it... Next to the Italian resteraunt... Got it... Ummm - That's a bike shop, not a plush advertising agency. So I investigated and discovered the sign for the resteraunt pointed to an alleyway in which the correct door could be found. What a maze of little companies and hostelries. Okay, I know this is Old Town, but this is like Charles Dickens with a makeover. So one lad came through the door in jeans and was out again in thrity seconds. Another couldn't remember what he'd done at school two years ago, and a young lady applicant grimaced as she saw me emerge from my interview belly first. She of course was turned out absolutely spot on perfect and so thought herself entitled to stare down her nose. I wonder if she too messed up the slightly misleading application forms? I do hope so. Having met Miss M, the bouyant lady I spoke to on the phone, she really is a first class receptionist. Chatty, able to dismiss scruffy applicants with a single sentence, and always smiling, even when her computer can't handle her any more and misbehaves. Best Interview Ever Looking back over the last couple of years one telephone interview stands out. I rang a garden centre to chase up some grotty little job and a woman answered. She clearly wasn't the boss and had a heavy rural accent, all slow and full of wiltshire inflections. Oh.. Hi.. I'm phoning about the vacancy for Garden Centre Flunky. Is Mr Boss there? "Nah. What do you want him for?" Well I'd like to discuss the vacancy as the advert suggests. "Do you want the job or not?" I'd like to know something about it first. "I think you're wasting my time. Click. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"