caldrail

Also, the optimistic comparisons above are based on a society wide adoption principle. Archaeological evidence confirms that mostly water driven machinery was created by the Romans, but not all of them. In other words, any technological advances were local in scope (though there were exceptions, like concrete, but that might be argued to be a 'secret' that got out). As I mentioned above, the communication of ideas in a culture that based its dynamism on ruthless competition is hardly likely to share ideas on an open forum (pardon the pun). Further, since the patrons were not investing in new ideas, being essentially conservative image concious politicians, there was no background of financial backing. Technology didn't stagnate - it never really caught on.

Right then. Another day, andother blog entry. A quick browse of the internet news site reveals the usual outbursts of optimism from politicians and malicious violence from maladjusted mental cases. You know, all these near-fraudulent promises and murders make you feel a bit tired of the world. How could you possibly tire of day after day of sunshine, put-downs by pompous claims advisors, and the endless red tape of DIY benefits processing? I think you need a certain level of detachment. As horrible as life sometimes is for other people, there's a point beyond which caring about other peoples circumstances really does nothing for you. That isn't because I could help them, but rather a sense of frustration that I can't. So today I must help myself. Having checked my bank statements and so forth, I went straight to the job centre. Long queues are a thing of the past and I must admit, service is somewhat quicker than even a few years ago. The lady at the desk smiled robotically at me as I approached. It's a learned response, an instinctive reaction to seeing a dole seeker before her. Remain patient, Caldrail... I explained the woes afflicting me. Today is the day my housing benefit gets frozen and I have no proof of Jobseekers Allowance, my only official income. She smiled back at me robotically, but apart from that showing no sign of life. With some irritation I pointed out that I'd need proof to claim my benefits. Suddenly she realised she was expected to do something, and lacking the necessary procedures logged in her mental database, she wandered off to find someone who might know what the heck I was talking about. As it turned out she did exactly that, and a polite gentleman sorted my proof letter for me no problem whatsoever, whilst my less polite claims advisor was passing behind on the way back from her cigarette break, no doubt incensed that I was not abasing myself at her desk for this morsel of financial aid. Then off to the council offfices. There's a large banner over the enquiries desk - Swindon Direct - Passionate About Service - and so I must wait... Waiting... Somebody just moved from one foot to the other... Waiting... One assistant is filing papers in a desk... The queue is now three times longer... Waiting... Uhh? What was that? Oh! My turn! As usual I receive a numbered ticket and wait for my number to come up. The excitement is palpable. But unlike most of my visits there, my number was called almost immediately. I'd like to think my noble title won me instant service - somehow I doubt it. Peraps I should have bought a lottery ticket this morning instead. Letter provided, receipt stamped, I'm a happy little claimant all over again. Life goes on. Life Making Itself Heard Occaisionally I find myself desperate to find a certain book at the library. The staff are always helpful and concientious, and although the epic quest lasting three months filed to turn up the exotic and now extremely rare book on dark age conquest in southern Britain, usually they suceed admirably in finding the stuff I need. My sudden move to the enquiries desk upset a baby. It burst into fits of vocal anguish, and the efforts of it's owner to silence it may have been heroic but ultimately fruitless. Hi... I'm looking for (*WAAAAAH!*)... Book on (*HI-HI-WAAAAAH!*)... The librarian smiled patiently throughout the discovery of speech going on behind me. I guess toys, milk bottles, and bouncy games don't please everyone. With a bit of luck I'll complete todays quest for litaerary satisfaction some time this afternoon... Might even get to enjoy some sunshine too. DING! Sounds the tannoy. A female voice wearily tells us that "The fire alarm will now be tested and will sound for a short period. There is no need to take any action. Thank you" WEEE OOOOH WEEE OOOOH WEEE OOOOH WEEE OOOOH WEEE OOOOH "This is a fire alarm" Says the recorded voice in upper class officer accent, as if I actually needed to understand what was going on. Oh at last. It's finished. Right then, back to chapter three, What To Do When Bullied By FIre Alarms WEEE OOOOH WEEE OOOOH WEEE OOOOH WEEE OOOOH WEEE OOOOH "This is a fire alarm, please leave by the nearest exit."

Incorrectly, I'd imagine, but it's interesting that they do. Rather as if the need for a motto to have existed is important. Must be a part of human psyche in some way, which does indicate that Romans did indeed use motto's in much the same way as we do today. Okay maybe that's hardly scientific evidence but I also notice the Roman sources don't advertise motto's. Does this indicate they were little used? Or that they were so commonplace as to escape mention? Or are the writers above that sort of thing and find it unimportant, given they're describing the lives and events of movers and shakers as opposed to the grunts, who usually get only get a mention shortly before some nasty retribution happens?

SPQR was the official name of the Roman state. Not a motto, surely?

Well would you believe it? Stephen Hawking, one of the worlds most foremost scientists, has announced that aliens almost certainly exist and that we shouldn't meet them because they'll be horrible to us and nick all our resources. Joking aside, I agree the risks of cultural shock are very real and as I've written a couple of times in the past, contact with more powerful and sophisticated civilisations isn't such a good thing. I also note that it's taken until now to for Mr Hawking to reach that conclusion thus I can justifiably claim to be cleverer than he is. I am ahead of his time. In fact, Mr Hawking uses real-world analogies to make his point, quoting the example of the european conquistadors arriving in central america. He might also have pointed at the kago cults of the pacific region, where jungle tribesmen build bamboo 'radios' to contact the 'iron birds' that bring food and other good stuff, having experienced the logistics of world war two for themselves. Now as for Hawkings idea that these creatures would be nomads on vast interstellar ships, I have to say that's merely imagination however convenient it may seem to his ordered mind. There are any number of other possibilities, and as I'm sure he'll admit (seeing as he wants to remain gainfully employed), we don't know everything yet. I know there are people who believe aliens are already here, visiting for the purposes of barbeques and abductions in the name of experiment and erotic sex, and that Area 51 is where we get our own back on them for doing that, but apart from lots of special effects in the skies there really isn't any hard evidence. So one theory dating back to the eighties is that clever and paranoid aliens have built robotic starships packed with terrible weaponry that home in on any sign of civilisation and remove their potential rivals with big ray guns. So that's why we don't get any answers to our our hails (besides the huge distances and times these electromagnetic messages must traverse). All the recipients are already zapped. Oh yeah. I forgot. Didn't the Maya predict the end of the world in December 2012? Well they should know. They've suffered it once already at the hands of the Spanish. More Aliens Ridley Scott is to make two prequels to the Alien films. He's working on the first already, and in it we get to find out who the 'space jockey' in the original film was. Get a move on Ridley. The world ends in two years.

Islamic nations prior to the crusades were indeed regarded as centers of science, philosophy, and art. They were also justifiably shocked by the behaviour of the christian invaders. Nonetheless, this cultural pinnacle would only apply to a minority of the population and concentrated in certain areas, leaving the rest of islamic populations as somewhat less enlightened - just the same as anywhere else. The moslem turks of the time were after all responsible for the problems that forced the frustrated Emperor Alexius to write to the Pope asking for military aid. Well... He certainly got some... As for working together, they simply didn't. Faced with huge civil and logistical problems in absorbing so many foreign migrants in one go he had the lot shipped across the Bosphorus as soon as possible and pushed on their way, where the less than sophisticated turks dogged their every weary and heat exhausted step. Further, the byzantines at least once captured objectives from the crusaders, not the moslems. It was almost a three way fight with the byzantines trying to keep the whole problem outside their borders.

Utterly astounding. Still, it makes one think. Maybe in two thousand years time they'll find a use for the Toyota Prius that will enrich peoples lives. Or maybe not

This morning was for the first time in weeks a typical Swindon day. Uneven grey clouds obscure the sky and the ground is damp from the rain of the early hours. There's a distinct smell that arises at times like this, a sort of grassy odour amplified by wet vegetation. The alleyway past the old college site remains as unloved as ever. It never ceases to amaze me where this rubbish comes from. On a regular basis piles of discarded clothes appear, crumpled and dirty, often with a soiled mttress left in the way of vehicular access. Further along th last remnants of a dead piano are rotting. Beside that, obstructing the cinder path that winds along the grassy tufts between the fences and brick walls either side, I see the remains of a bed. A tumble of rusty springs and broken wooden framing. With spring arriving, the verges of this path will soon be smothered by nettles, brambles, and horsetails, a sort of slum area for weeds to thrive. A Tycoon Is Not Just For Christmas I see in the news that the super-rich among us are getting wealthy again after the depradations of the recession. Unfortunately thanks to the connivances of the council and the Department of Work and Pensions, that doesn't include me, as I'm now engaged in a life or death struggle to prove I'm in receipt of Jobseekers Allowance and thus claim enough Housing Benefit to remain with a roof over my head. If you detect a small chip on my shoulder right now, be aware, it's becoming rather larger. In fairness it may well be anonymous members of the public who feel it is their public duty to rat on dole cheats. For those not aware, a dole cheat is smeone who earns money for work and still claims the benefits for being unemployed. There's certainly plenty of them out there, I just wish the public would realise that not all dole claimants are drug using work shy political radicals with Save The Gay Whales Planet tee shirts and woolly hats. Very sorry I replaced my ailing keyboard with another but that money did come out of my savings you know - and incidentially, so did the money to purchase my poor old Eunos convertible, which languishes on an off-road notification permanently. It seems dole claimants are not allowed to enjoy life. We are, by definition, undesirables whose lives must become poverty stricken prison sentences so the working population can sleep safe in the beds in the knowledge they did the right thing. Remember - A tycoon is not just for christmas.

The difference between modern Islam and Christianity has less to do with religion than political history. Christianity grew through a large monolithic empire that formed part of the rubble our foundations are built on. Early christianity was far from a unified whole which shouldn't suprise us given the fertile breeding ground of cults and sects in the ancient world, especially focused in Syria. The reasons that Christianity evolved was not, as many christians might like to assume, a popular and consistent 'message', but rather a political opportunity. With his newly won empire struggling to avoid collapse after the civil wars, Constantine the Great decided that Christianity would be the glue to achieve that end, and although the Council of Nicaea in 325 wasn't the first attempt to unify christian sects (there was another around 75 sometime, I believe) this was the first with imperial support. Constantine tried to get one of his relatives worshipped as Jesus and and rather hypocritically converted on his deathbed. But all the same, christianity for the first time decided which doctrine was correct and what was heresy. It also sensed that as a secondary arm of government it had real powers and privileges over the population of the Roman empire. Marcellinus tells us that the 'roads were filled with galloping priests' as they began to co-operate. Of course christianity was never fully unified as later history demonstrates, but there was a powerful central authority that almost, so very nearly, established a pan-european religious dictatorship at the end of the eleventh century, and the migratory madness of those first crusades demonstrates that very vividly. Islam has not been so political to the best of my knowledge and essentially remains a faith of confederation rather than central authority, which is one reason why it's proving so difficult to establish a rapport with in the anti-americanism we see on tv. Now we should look closely at the rapid expansion of islamic empires in the dark ages that reached Spain. However much their religious beliefs fired their enthusiam for conquest, I doubt very much that the territorial gain in Africa, Asia Minor, and Europe was entirely to spread the Last Word Of God. In much the same was the later Christian crusades, the islamic conquests had at their heart very worldy objectives. It must be apparent that there is some link between a coherent cultural movement and the strength of its religious institutions. The events of the crusades indicate this is only part of the equation, for in worldly conquest we see human greed emerging and with it competitive ambition, and so the supposed allies very soon fell out with each other. Islam is indeed evolving. It has yet to adopt a central organisation, and in order for that to occur, a strong political entity to support it would seem necessary, despite whatever communal cheering at the sniping of American and European assets transpires. It is, however, under pressure to change, to adopt a more conciliatory approach than the fragmented self-discovery of the 80's which saw the fundamentalist regimes of Iran or that of the Taliban in Afghanistan rise to power. Islam would seem then to be at something of a crossroads in our own time. Will it decide to work for peace or Jihad? Will it adopt a universal interpretation of its teachings or remain in the hands of individual movements? On the one hand Islam claims it has much to offer and attempts to bring the world to rights as it sees it, but on the other, refuses to accept responsibility for the infringement of its own principles in the process of shaking its fist.

Typical. I've run out of stuff in my cupboards. No matter how organised I try to be I always forget something on my trips to the supermarket. So once again I scramble around for the last few coins in my pockets and head for the shops in an optimistic mood. Turning the corner that leads off the main road and along a pedestrianised street, I cou;d hardly fail to notice the crowd of supermarket employees stood around chatting and enjoying the sun, not to mention a few cigarettes. I wonder what that's all about? A company outing? Are they off by coach to some theme park somewhere and spend the day in politically correct corporate happiness? Come on, surely not a major supermarket chain. Don't they know there's a recession on? No, the whole concept is too surreal. There must be another reason. A shortcut through the alley and the ground level truck access to the shopping centre, and the wide asphalt ring road is filled with groups of retail uniforms like armies assembling for battle. A line of refugee shoppers wait with folded arms outside the darkened supermarket. This does not bode well for my shopping. The policeman was too stern faced and busy to approach for information, but a shopping mall security guard shrugged with stereotypical indifference and told he me hadn't a clue what was going on. I knew that much already. Well it blew over before too long. The glass frontages didn't shatter from suspicious bags left at the checkout, and the firemen were left to carry on washing their trucks or laugh at passers by, or other such fireman-related activity when not called upon to risk their lives in burning supermarkets. The good news is that eventually my shopping was completed without injury or incorrect change, and I finally had enough toilet paper to relieve my ever increasing anxiety. Political Agenda of the Week I see that David Cameron, leader of the Conservative Party, has announced that under their rule there will be no more unelected Prime Ministers like Gordon Brown, and any politician coming into the job without public mandate must hold a general election within six months. You know what? For the first time since the Falklands War, I'm going to say something nice about the Tories. They've actually thought up an excellent idea (even if I did highlight this travesty of british politics some time ago in this blog - Glad to see you've been reading it Mr C ). Do it. Just do it. Still haven't forgiven you for that Poll Tax fiasco though.

What the? You don't like motor racing? How can you not like motor racing? What is it with women? Don't they understand the feral need for speed, the subliminal one-ness with a beefy V8, the sense of excitement as the laws of physics finally wins the battle on turn four? Me likee racing cars. Especially the ones I get to drive. Hooo hoo hoooooo (*VROOOOM*) See yaaaaaaaaaaaaa.......... What?

Yes, the same thing happens here in Swindon, only in reverse.

For some reason I woke very early this morning. I mean, it was still dark outside, so this must have been about five o'clock or something daft. Even dafter was the impulse to get out out of bed, pack the pack, and head the heck out toward the hills. So naturally I obeyed this impulse because my intellect hadn't woken up yet. You see this time of year is a bit awkward. Sure, it's very chilly in the first light of dawn, but any exercise in warm clothing produces nothing but sweat. In cold conditions I can't tell you how uncomfortable that can get. If you strip off down to a layer thin enough not to sweat, you freeze. Better get going then. As sunsets go it was as dull as ditchwater. It's clouds that make for dramatic backlighting and picturesue contrasts, but that pale blue sky was featureless. On the other hand, there was a sort of mist hovering over Coate Water like some 50's budget pirate film. Thankfully all the pirates had already gone home to bed. As hikes go it was nothing special but I did notice how polite people seemed to be for no apparent reason. Everyone who passed me by, even the flourescent lycra body socks cycling at speed along the trails, said hello or good morning. It is a good morning. And it got better. At Ogbourne the sheep followed me. A herd several paces behind that gathered and moved when I moved. Just staring at me... Staring.... Having escaped the sheep I made my way up Smeathes Ridge and the grassy hills of the Marlborough Downs. I attracted a herd of cows the other side of the femce. They followed me and moved when I moved. Staring... Just Staring... Eventually I reached the crest of the hill and sat down on a metal bench thoughtfully left there for walkers to enjoy the view across the undulating terrain. The cows waited patiently at the fence. Staring... Is there something going on I don't know about? Have I achieved a high enough karma to make bovine hearts swoon at my presence? Wish it had worked a few days ago. It was about then I realised that that two cows were on my side of the fence. Except these cows had horns and dangly things... Bulls. They watched me, staring... At least they weren't attacking. I see know why military surplus is invariably olive green. Only bulls with colour blindness would think I was a threat to their bull-li-ness and charge headlong in what would probably be a succesful attempt to get me to run away. With a bit of luck I'll blend into the hillside and make my getaway unseen. Changes in the Countryside Whereas our towns and villages are filled with pubs either closed down or glumly carrying on regardless of mounting debt, the countryside is becoming a haven of half demolished buildings. The cafe at Barbury Hill has gone, an empty brick shell. A large barn further down the footpath to Liddington lies in abandoned disarray. The shotgun range is quiet. Taking a Breather Eventually I reached the old oak north of Chiseldon and sat on the bench provided for another chance to rest my weary legs and quaff from my military surplus water bottle. Groan ye not, because they do actually work, and are sturdy enough to take the bumps and grinds of hiking. In an emergency you could melt it down and make a fake credit card. I think I saw Ray Mears do something like that once. The thing is though it was genuinely peaceful out there. The wind in the trees, the filtered sunsine, the contrails and rumbles of transatlantic jets bringing people home at low low prices after being stranded for weeks, the songs of birds, and yes, down there, among the trees of the hillside, a large deer trots along on its secretive business. A woman was coming up the farm trail that leads to the lower meadows of the valley, and I asked her if she'd seen the deer. "Errr.. Nooo..." She replied, but we ended up having a nice little conversation about how her dog ate a dead animal last night. Just found it out walking and the dog, named Barney, couldn't resist pigging out on it, and growled mightily when the family tried to take the horrible remains away. I sense Barneys owner hasn't yet cottoned on to how boring her dog food is. As we were walking along a herd of cows in an adjacent field trotted over to check out the new visitor in his olive green gear. I had to explain to the woman it was just me they wanted and not to be afraid of mindless cows. What is it with animals this morning? Has someone sprayed me with Ox For Men as a joke? It's seriously like encountering a crowd of fans who've never heard of autographs. "Oh but they kill people sometimes" She warned me. Oh brilliant. Ray Mears please take note. I succesfully evaded the cow herd by walking on. They don't seem able to negotiate obstacles like barbed wire fences. Barney and her fearful owner made their escape in the opposite direction. You can't pay for survival tips like this.

I sat down yesterday in the Town Gardens to enjoy a good book in the warm sunshine and chilly breeze. All that was missing was that seaside ambience. Swindon does have a seagull population which is a bit strange since we don't have any sea shore whatsoever, and you'd need to travel some distance to find any expanse of dull grey water. I wonder if they've heard about this global warming thing and reserved nesting space for when the worlds melting icebergs raise the sea level to Swindon Town Gardens? Anyhow the seagulls were elsewhere being rescued by the Royal Navy after being refused permission by the authorities to fly home. This was of course mid-week, so the weekend migration of families were absent. It was calm, peaceful.The sun was warm and I was sheltered from the breeze by the sunken lawn. Perfect. Or it was until a family decided to escape from a normal working week and found the same spot as me. their innocent and glassy eyed child then proceeded to drive around the lawn on some elctric buggy contraption cunningly designed to not resemble a car in any way whatsoever. "Stay off the flowers, dear!" Her mother called. "Not in the flowers!" Whoops. There she goes. Clearly she's going to be a 4x4 driver when she grows up. Happy Birthday On my way home fromTown Gardens I passed by the office where I did my work experience programme. At the bus stop was Miss A the Younger. She's been taken on as a permanent employee of the programme centre and she's already annoyed because she also happens to be the youngest employee in the office at the tender age of 18. Oh hallo there. What's the flower for? "It's my birthday" She smiled. How could I resist a birthday hug? Well now she's 19 years of age she ought to be aware that she'll be catching up with the rest of us one day. As it happened, her bus arrived right there and then, and whisked her away to safety. Somebody else was having a birthday today. In the stillness of the library, marked only by the sounds of chatting downstairs in the coffee bar and the background of keyboard typing, one elderly gentleman began singing a birthday somng to his nearest and dearest over the internet. Where's Simon Cowell when you need him? Advice of the Week Can you seriously believe this? Pensioners are being advised to take up martial arts to avoid fractures. Headbutting piles of slates, chopping bricks with their bare hands, breaking down walls with vicious kicks, all with the intent to prevent broken bones. Brilliant. Even better, it keeps them exercised whilst they trundle around on mobility buggies. Now they'll be able to drive over rice paper without leaving a mark.

It's a matter of personal perspective. Many might consider a one on one fight to be honourable regardless of weaponry - that's often a facet of human psychology displayed in our everyday activities. At the other end of the extreme, whilst I personally abhor the use of land mines, I do recognise my enemy might regard them as a convenient means of killing and injuring their hated enemies. It's always different if you're on the receiving end.

I take your point Melvadius, but then again my point was considering various aspects of a situation is a waste of time. Combat needs to be an instinctive thing - why else did the Romans insist on drills and practise? I remember a lad I used to work with. He was a skinhead who'd been previously jailed for soccer violence, and although he claimed to be a reformed character, his love of fighting still emerged in bouts of rough and tumble (much to my exasperation, but was I going to let him beat me? ) Truth of the matter was, he was so much more practised at swinging his fists that he remained calm and capable, lashing out quite skilffully (albeit pulling his punches - he was reformed after all) and reacted way faster than me - siimply because I had to observe, interpret, and decide on what I was going to do next in a fast paced situation, when all he had to was switch off his thinking process and let his well honed instincts take over. So I lost. And rather embarrasingly fell through a door into an adjoining office, much to his amusement. But hey, I died bravely.

I woke up this morning to bright sunshine yet again. How much longer can this go on for? We brits aren't used to good weather. Extended bouts of sunny days makes us go all loopy, doing daft things like jumping off bridges into dangerous rivers, slowly roasting ourselves where-ever we find a spot to lie down, and discovering how far you can stretch fashion before foreigners are visibly nauseous. I have an uncontrollable urge to buy bottles of cheap cider and watch the world go by. Hang on... What's going on?... Is that a cloud I see in the sky? Look there, there's another one. And another. Oh ye gods we're being invaded by cloud! Nice, white fluffy clumps of dreary dampness. Welcome back English weather. Oh yes, I forgot. The air restrictions for flights in and out of Britain are lifted today. It was an omen. The Scourge Of Energy Drinks I see in the news that a woman on an Anti-Social Behaviour Order has blamed her bad attitude on her addiction to Red Bull. Fifteen cans a day? Fifteen? How can she afford it? That's

No, it was a situation that happened in re-enactment at random. There weren't any safeguards other than health & safety restrictions and everyone else was busy wacking each others shields elsewhere. 'Running diagonally between the spears' sounds like one of those bright ideas roleplayers come up with (no offence intended) - It really wouldn't work like that. Spears are useful because of not just the pointy bit at the end, but also the butt and indeed could still serve as a quartstaff if need be. It sounds like you're trying to apply logic and thought to tactics in melee. You'll lose. Desperate men don't behave in an entirely predictable manner and by the time you've thought out how to achieve this result and chosen your moment to go for it, you've lost the initiative you won with all your aggression. So keep yelling and menacing. They're already scared, and knocking their spears away is possible, Don't waste your time thinking about it. Fatal.

Yet another sunny day. Pretty darn chilly this morning as I strolled through the park devoid of the birds returning from winter in tropical climes (or are they grounded by volcanic ash too? Must be tough cleaning those feathers). All in all, it's turning out to be a chilly day all round. I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later. My title has been impugned. My claims advisor not only bluntly refused to acknowledge it but she took every opportunity to criticise my behaviour and even threatened to have me escorted off the premises. What a charming woman. Actually I think she took great delight in her impression of bovine outrage. I wonder what happened to the customer service these public departments are so proud of advertising? I guess any hint that one of their customers might be thinking of himself as anything more than a downtrodden subservient failure waives it. Some might say it's all my own fault. That I shouldn't use that title and so forth. Well.. Strictly speaking there's something in that argument since it isn't a peerage, but then again, if John Prescott can get a peerage for doing nothing more than squatting in public apartments I'm pretty sure I can use a title for doing more than expected of me. More And More Ash The volcano in Iceland shows no sign of easing up. Some news reports indicated a drop in activity but since when were volcanoes completely predictable? Maybe this is a bit hard on those trapped abroad, but I notice Swindon is remarkably quiet at the moment. Now that the government, whoever takes charge of it, is going to be concerned with reducing mounting debt, could they not honour their promises to make better for the public by asking the Royal Navy not to rescue British holidaymakers? They get an opportunity to get even more inebriated, I get peace and quiet. Works to the advantage of all. Pic Of The Day Didn't get the photograph I wanted, but I caught this one instead. Enjoy...

Running around the back of four spearmen seems an unlikely tactic. It was after all a display of aggression and a more frontal approach might actually produce a better result.

It's a question of political strength, and don't forget there's been more than two parties in our system for a long time, plus fringe groups emerging like British National Party, Green Party, UK Independence party, and any number of independents. You might also include movements such as the Monster raving Looney Party or the Nun Of The Above Party. Okay, maybe they're not too sensible, but then the established political factions in the House of Commons aren't known for sensible policies either.

I hear Zurich is something of a playground for light aeroplanes at the moment. With all airliner movements halted they're just letting everyone else free run of the place. You don't see that in England. In fact, there was a light plane accident not far from where I used to fly, just in the last week. The cause isn't known yet but naturally people are wondering if ash was responsible. Personally I don't think so, it's unlikely he was flying high enough, and light aeroplanes usually crash because someone either didn't do something they should or did something they shouldn't. Well, if any of those enviro-tards are interested, I haven't coughed once since the eruption began and so far I show no signs of becoming a zombie. It ain't exactly Pompeii around here (despite some peoples efforts )

Yesterday afternoon was one of those hazy lazy days. I snoozed on a park bench and even though I wasn't there for very long, I spotted the effects of sunshine on my face in the mirror when I got home. Woah that's red. What else can I do now my leisure time has increased?.. Uhhh... Oh I know, lets try to get a fantastic sunset photo. Now's the time, with volcanic ash causing all sorts of colour effects in the atmosphere. There was a saffron edge to the grey-blue cloud as the sun got lower, and faint sunbeams spread from the edges in a very understated way. Hey, I might be able to take a decent pic! So I rushed out to the grassy slopes of the fields of south Swindon and breathlessly hauled my camera forth... Awww man this is going to be mega!... (*BLEEP*).. What the?... Battery Empty. NOOOOOOOO! I Woke Up This Morning So it's back to my normal routine. Freed from the shackles of workfare I now queue up with all the others waiting for the library doors to open. Dragon Lady is on duty at the enquiries desk this monday morning so the mood is very quiet indeed. Check my emails... No rep;ies from any employers, just a whole stack of newsletters that don't interest me in any way... Delete, delete, delete... The security guard clambered up the stairs and announced it was too dark inside the building for human beings to see properly. No, that's okay, I can see just fine, so... AAGH! The lights turned on nonetheless and now I can't see properly. Whinge of the Week Last week we nearly had a Doctor Who Day at work. It was KS who satrted that one off by claiming that someone looked like the good Doctor. As it turned out I thought he meant someone else, so the whole thing collapsed under the weight of its own embarrasement. A part of me wants the television series to go the same way. I've written a few times on my loathing for the new Doctor Who and you know what? I'm going to do that again. KS thought the series was brilliant. I imagine he would, since it contains bright colours, lots of movement, constant mood music, and doesn't challenge the intellect in any way. I'll know when his 'Brain-Training' games are having an effect when he realises I was right about the frankenstein monster that is Doctor Who. Ironically last saturdays episode was based on a very interesting idea - that daleks were being used as 'Ironsides' secret war weapons in Britain at the height of the Luftwaffes assault in 1940, suitably painted in olive drab and little union jacks, plus some canvas bandoliers that the daleks could use to store bits and piecs if only their extendable plungers could actually reach into them. Perhaps it fosters teamwork? Sadly from that point on the episode descended into its usual moronic drivel. It turns out the most unconvincing Winston Churchill ever is a close buddy of the Doctor, which serves no useful plot device and the scene was only included to make the Doctor look like a celebrity. The boffin who built the 'ironsides' turns out to be a cyborg built by the daleks to introduce them to Winston. "Why did you do that?" The Doctor enquires of the Daleks when they start to admit their nefarious skulduggery. "Because it was necessary" Replies our olive drab psychopathic pepperpot. Necessary? What does that mean? It doesn't explain anything. In fact, I couldn't see any sensible reason why the Daleks needed to interfere in World War Two at all. By that time I was cringing in my seat. "Broadsword calling Danny Boy! Broadsword calliung Danny Boy!" Cried some guy into a radio microphone, a sentence ripped bloody from the motion picture Where Eagles Dare. Oh please... Not this... Spitfires in space... Help, I'm drowning in idiocy. I remember when Doctor Who was science fiction. The new Doctor pretends to be, but in all honestly, it was always intended to be Harry Potter and the Sonic Screwdriver.

Sunday morning... Time once again to step over the casualties of last nights binges and make my way to where I sit now, typing out this blog entry. What struck me was how quiet everything was. A solitary electric tool echoed in the back streets on the west side of Swindon hill, whining away with it's owners delirious need to reduce his untidy house to matchwood. Oh sure the church bells were trying to keep christians occupied on their day off but for some odd reason it didn't seem as intrusive a background noise as it often is. Hordes of sikhs swarm in from every direction to attend their rituals at our local temple. Unlike the noisy english, they hardly make a sound, almost as if they're trying not to attract attention to themselves. Hard not to notice really, given their numbers, colourful ethnic garb, and the impossible task of threading my way through the crowd. It's too nice a morning to get annoyed. Then I noticed the sky. Utterly cloudless, an expanse of blue you'd expect to see in the deserts of Africa albeit with a slightly grey haze on the horizon. Not a single contrail. No white specks shuttling to and fro across the Atlantic. Just a sense of peace and calm you don't really encounter very much in the hurly-burly of the modern world. So my learned advice is that if you want peace and quiet set off a volcano. Cats The funny thing is that our feline friends and neighbours seem to sense today is going to be quiet on a pastoral level so rarely enjoyed in their everyday struggle for survival and strokes from strangers. There's the same white cat in his usual place on the window sill of a house down the road, cleaning himself, totally uninterested in the comings and goings he normally studies. One cat rolls lazily around on the tarmac, safe in the knowledge that holidaygoers are trapped where they are and thus the risk of being mown down by drivers driven to psychopathic rage by their kids incessant demands for global positioning equipment will not occur. That was probably the only cat moving in Swindon just now. Noise Update Just heard a train passing through Swindon heading west to Bristol. There it goes, a warbling diesel pulling a long line of gravel hoppers. The smoother swish of a passenger train comes the other way. Not to be outdone, the man in the next house has started a strimmer and relaxes in the high pitched snarl. By tonight, the void in background noise will no doubt be filled by the sound of social mayhem and unrestrained music. Why do human beings demand peace and quiet all the time? All we do is fill it with noise.

The urge to write is a funny thing. I went daily a while back and sometimes you just haven't got enough time in the day to set down everything you want to say, on other days you stare at the screen in a dull eyed stare devoid of any impetus to even twitch a finger. You have an advantage over me. I don't have a cat who likes cars. On the other hand, I do have a car that likes cats. You can see where they've been lying on the dusty bonnet (that's 'hood' for those who don't speak Queens English ). There you go. It was worth the money after all