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1 July 2009 (Wednesday) - Back to
Last night we watched the last episode of “The
4400”. Over the last sixteen years, every Tuesday evening I’ve sat with
friends and we’ve watched no end of TV series. I liked “The 4400”
because I didn’t fall asleep though any of it – which is quite unheard of.
What I particularly liked about it was that being filmed in and around Quite appropriate I should be thinking of
going there again, bearing in mind it’s Canada Day today. And then, seeing as it was such a lovely
evening we went for a cycle ride up to the Golden Ball (in Kennington). A
strange pub – the surroundings were beautiful. The pub itself is that which
you would expect to find in the grimmest of council estates. And the mild was
sour. So we cycled home again. We won’t bother with that place again… |
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2 July 2009
(Thursday) - Another Day...
I see that nearly a third of the members of
the members of the Scottish parliament agreed with me that Scottish
home rule is a waste of time and money yesterday. The Queen made
the effort and showed her face there. Her Majesty wasn’t particularly well, (I
think she’s looking very frail these days) but she turned up to what was
supposed to have been an historic occasion. Nearly forty per cent of the MSPs couldn’t be bothered to show up to celebrate ten
years of Scottish home rule, citing excuses as lame as umpiring a cricket
match, moving office, visiting a creamery, socialising with asylum
seekers and opening a footpath. The 163 children born in It’s just another reason why the Scottish
parliament is a total waste of money. The building itself has cost over £430
million, and costs over £70 million a year in running costs. Why on Earth do
we have a Scottish parliament? Surely in the twenty-first century such small
mindedness should be behind us. Surely we should be looking to a unified
humanity with a world government. We shouldn’t be harping back to home rule.
Where does home rule end? Do we really want to go back to the dark ages when
each individual county had its own King? And why should Ashford be beholden
to edicts from far-off Meanwhile the world is a sadder place as we
say goodbye to Mrs Slocombe. Molly Sugden died
today. She was eighty-six. Only four years older than Her Majesty…. Regular readers of this drivel may recall
my entry of 16th June when I commented that after six months,
the road works outside my house had been finished. Two weeks and two days
later I’ve just had someone ringing the doorbell. Someone in overalls. Would
I please move my car because they want to dig the road up.
As I type this, the pneumatic drill is going again. And so is my blood
pressure…. |
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3 July 2009
(Friday) - Phone calls,
Last night I griped that the gas people
were digging up the road again. Because they had once more done the job wrong
and had to put it right. They still haven’t filled in the holes further down
my road, and I’ve heard rumours that next week work is starting in So at 9am I phoned Kent Highways
on 08458 247 800, and quoted the old reference of 16282635. “Desmond”
had a look in his records, and reacted as though he’d never heard of the
concept of road works before. He did his level best to deny any knowledge or
responsibility about the hole in the road, and tried to pass all the blame
onto the contractor. I wasn’t having any of that – holes can’t be dug in
roads without the say-so of Kent County Council, and so surely KCC must have
the responsibility of keeping tabs on what the contractors are doing. If not,
what’s to stop the entire county being dug up? Eventually he conceded defeat,
once more took down the details I’d given KCC so many times, and said he’d
get back to me. “Clarice” phoned back at 10.15 to
say she was now on the case, and would let me know developments as they
occurred. What are the gas board playing at? Until he
retired, my father’s job was to inspect gas repairs and works in the road to
check that the hole could be filled in. Doesn’t anyone inspect the work any
more? The latest missive from the chokey arrived
today. It would seem that yet again I’d stuffed up a crossword clue – the “S”
word had seven letters, not six as I’d put in the clue. Still, it’s not as
though he (or anyone else) could have solved the crossword anyway –
here’s a clue from the same crossword: “The journey to the toilet (having
gambled and lost) with a waddle, a quack, and a very unhappy frown (4,8)”. Having said that, I’m not sure that I should say
much more. “Plod” have intercepted other
letters to HMP Slade and have made third hand announcements that I’m not
supposed to discuss my mate on an open blog. I had a phone call from the chokey last
night. “Norman Stanley” phoned me to tell me to take no notice of the
edict. He said that if “Plod” has instructions for me, they can tell
me directly. I can’t help but agree with him. To Ashford Cycle Centre to buy a pump for
my bike. The shop was swathed in "No Parking" signs, so I parked
outside the shop opposite which had loads of parking spaces. As I was walking
across to the cycle shop, some bloke came out of the shop where I'd parked
and told me that it was no parking there too. So I went to Halfords and bought my pump
there. And then I phoned Ashford Cycle Centre to ask where I should park in
future. They said I should park outside their shop. When I asked about all
the no parking signs, they told me these are to deter visitors to other shops
from parking there. It would seem there’s no love lost between the businesses
on that estate. I can’t be doing with that. I shall stick with Halfords. Whilst in Halfords, “Clarice” phoned
me on my mobile. She’d done some research and found that there was a
department that co-ordinates digging of holes with actually doing work in
them, and then filling them in again. I would have thought that such a
department was an integral and essential part of Kent Highways, but what do I
know? However there was bad news. There would be no one in that department
until Monday. Work was better than usual today. On a late
start and straight into a meeting for an hour. Then to Home at 8.30pm to find that “Daddies
Little Angel TM ” has burned a hole in the lino
whilst cooking cakes. I realise the obvious question is “how?”, but I
find it best not to ask but to just accept these things…. |
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4 July 2009
(Saturday) - Cycling To Warehorne
A cycle ride to Warehorne
for a ploughman’s lunch. Over the last few weeks I’ve had no end of problems
trying to publicise these little outings – emails seem to vanish into
cyberspace, and my mobile sends texts to people’s landlines. I shall put up
forthcoming events in the “Dates for the Diary” blog section to the
right and hope that this is a good way of letting people know what I’m up to.
If you don’t read my blog, could you let me know so’s
I can tell you to look at it to find out what’s going on. Up until a couple of months ago I would
have confidently said that Warehorne is too far
away to comfortably cycle. Today the journey there took less than an hour. If
this cycling prowess continues, by the end of the summer a cycle ride
to The World’s Wonder in Warehorne
is one of my current favourite pubs, if for no other reason than “Wonderbrew”. A beer that Goachers
brew especially for the place. I say “especially” – there are other
pubs for which Goachers brew special beers, and all
these “one-off” beers taste suspiciously similar. We arrived at the World’s Wonder,
rearranged the tables and soon the non-cyclists were with us. Dinner was
ordered – you can’t go wrong with a stilton ploughman’s. I’m getting just a
tad predictable here. Whilst we ate, more cyclists arrived. And more. And
more. All of them well into their sixties. One of them came over to us
thinking we were part of their group. We got chatting - it turned out that
the “Kent & Sussex Cycling Fellowship” had arranged to have a
meeting there today. I must admit that some of those chaps on their bikes put
me to shame. It would have been quite pleasant to have
sat in the beer garden all afternoon, but we got back on the bikes and set
off back for home. ‘er
indoors TM had a mishap with her chain, but that was
easily fixed. Gear cables tend to stretch, and both
our bikes could do with a service. After ten minutes of puffing up the road
my phone rang. Brian had already got to the Kings Head in Shadoxhurst –
should he get the beers in? A difficult decision, I’m sure my loyal readers
will agree. Shepherd Neame mild and a selection of olives. Very nice. Batty
& Tina then set off for home whilst Brian and I had a pint of Bishop’s
Finger for afters. I’ve not seen Bishop’s Finger on a hand pump since the day
of Jack in the Green back in May, and then it had run out. We arrived home, puffed for a few minutes,
then all piled into the Bat-Mobile to This evening once I’d done the ironing I
sat down to do the household accounts. Basically I see what’s gone out of the
bank, and what’s appeared on my credit card. And then see if it agrees with
what I think it should be. A time consuming job, but worth doing. It amazes
me that there are people who don’t check these things. I once found that I
was paying for a phone I’d long since cancelled, and got a substantial
refund. And another time I found the leccie people
had helped themselves to large amounts of my wonga
without telling me. Today I noticed when going through credit
card receipts that a lot of shops are now itemising the cost of the goods
separately from the cost of the VAT. Take for example this afternoon’s haul
from Decathlon – I stumped up £49.70 on assorted t shirts, trousers and
camping kettles. But Decathlon has taken the trouble to tell me that without
VAT it would have cost £43.20. Well, that’s no surprise really. I have a
degree in mathematics and could easily have worked it out for myself. I
wonder why they are doing this. They aren’t alone – several shops are doing
the same. Is someone somewhere making a political statement….. |
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5 July 2009 (Sunday) - To Church
A restless night – by the time I’d done the
ironing and composed a crossword & letter to the chokey it was gone
midnight. I couldn’t get to sleep, and lay restless for an hour. Once I
eventually nodded off, ‘er indoorsTM came home. It is from her
that “My Boy TM ” inherits his ninja-like stealth. Not
content with making enough racket to wake the dead,
she then decided to attack and fight me for my blanket, claiming it was hers.
It might have been once. It isn’t any more – I’ve stolen it. I got maybe an
hour’s sleep before waking again. It was too hot. At 5am I was doing washing
up and having a shave. I eventually wandered back to bed, and nodded off around
6am. At 6.30 the phone went. Work had a problem. So I was off to the hospital
for an hour, before once more trying to get some kip. The phone rang just
before 9am – a voice message asking if I had a contact number for Sophie. I
had no idea who the message was from, or who Sophie is (or was), so at
that point I gave up and went for brekkie. It’s Sunday – to church. Together with a
dozen or so mates, Enrique had his first Holy Communion. The church was
packed to heaving – with at least five people to a pew, and fifty pews, to
say nothing of people standing all along the sides of the church. I was in
with the crowd standing at the back and there were loads of congregants (!)
in the balcony. There must have been about five hundred people there. The left
footers would seem to be doing a roaring trade – the boss vicar (they had
three vicars!) said that they’d done thirty nine baptisms this year. And
they were organised – I remember Holy Communion from my days in Methodism. It
would take twenty minutes to do twenty people. The left footers shifted
several hundred in ten minutes. The service was a bit…. Well, I suppose like
most church services, you need to know what’s going on. Standing up, kneeling
down, up and down. But having said that, this is my third time in church this
year, and I think that if I have to go to church, I’d rather go R.C. There’s
a sense of ceremony with the left footers that the C of E and the Baptists
seem to be missing. And then to the post church bunfight.
Despite the close proximity of fit cousins, I spent most of the afternoon
sniffing round Enrique’s fit teacher (who’d come along) Things have
perked up since I was in school… |
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6 July 2009
(Monday) - Google Newsgroups
Yesterday I mentioned the blog’s “Recent
Visitors Map”. Last night there was a hit from For some years I’ve been subscribing to
various Google newsgroups. Newsgroups are a bit like internet forums, but the
difference between an on-line forum and a newsgroup is that forums have
moderation. A few years ago, newsgroups were good. You could have a good chat
on a range of subjects, learn something new.. It was
through them that I got free magnets when badge-making (as a fund raiser)
in 2004. And I met my mate in Sevenoaks that way. But nowadays, newsgroups are a shambles.
For years I regularly logged into the same dozen each day, and they’ve all
gone the same way. What once were constructive discussions is now little more
than soapboxes for the deranged. I first started mucking about on Google
Groups round about Easter 2002. After some seven years of using them to argue
my way around the world, I’ve decided to call it a day and cancel my account
with giganews. The medical-related groups I subscribed to
have all been spammed to death by a twit from Another Canadian, who goes by the web-alias
of “The Doctor”
is doing his utmost to kill off all the Doctor Who related groups. The astronomy groups also attract the
nutters, Apollo conspiracy theorists and flat-earthers.
And the Koi ones attract nut cases to the point where most of the posts are
racial abuse and hate mail. To see someone mention anything remotely
fish-related is a rarity. The local group (which was good several
years ago) was all but destroyed some time ago by a twit from The NeverWinter forum probably never had
more than six contributors in all the years I subscribed to it, and the kite
flying one attracts maybe three messages per month. The cycling group is
similarly dead. In theory you can use newsgroups to discuss
a range of topics. In practice it’s a waste of money. Those groups which
aren’t dead are being actively killed. I’ve gone from making dozens of
postings a day down to sending maybe one a week. Cancelling the account will
save me a fiver each month – that’s a pint and a half more beer… |
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7 July 2009
(Tuesday) - Management,
As I approach the middle of week ten of my
twelve week secondment, a senior manager today expressed surprise at what
I’ve been doing with my time, and wonders if my time might have been better
spent doing something completely different instead. One wonders if such
wisdom might have been better imparted two months ago, but one keeps smiling. To Half way through my lecture about malaria
there was the loudest thunderclap. After all the heat of the last week or so,
now we’ve got the rain. Torrential rain. I just hope it clears up for the
weekend. Well, if it don’t I’ve got the beer ready
for “Emergency Plan B”. It won’t be the first time a kite festival has
been abandoned in favour of a booze-up. I went to Tesco for the beer, but a
combination of a pathetic beer selection combined with an over-abundance of
retards made me give up with Tesco’s. There are only so many children you can
(literally) trip over before you see red. So I went to Asda. I don’t
like Asda. The cark park is tortuous, you have to pay to park, and it too was
full of retards. There wasn’t a single customer in there who
was actually looking where it was going. The entire lot of them were blindly
blundering around, bouncing off of shelves, trolleys, groceries and other
shoppers alike. But the beer selection was better than Tesco’s. I’ve bought
thirty two bottles of ale and a bottle of port. It won’t last the weekend. And so to Andy & Heather’s. A birthday,
and birthday cake is always popular. As was Star Trek meets Family Guy. Must
watch more of that…. |
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8 July 2009
(Wednesday) - Standardisation ?
The last letter I sent into the chokey was
a tad faint in parts. I thought about waiting and sending the letter once I
could get a replacement ink cartridge, but then I thought that if the ink was
a bit sparse, trying to work out the words might give him something to do. To Staples to get a replacement ink cartridge.
And what a caper that was. There are dozens, if not hundreds of different
sorts of ink cartridge. All different enough to make them utterly unique.
What’s that all about? Surely it would make sense to have some sort of
standardisation whereby all printers use the same? And the price of cartridges… I paid twenty
five quid for a black ink cartridge. It’s actually cheaper to buy a new
printer (they come with ink cartridges) than it is to replace both
black & colour cartridges. And then to work – where a colleague was
trying to find someone with a charger which would fit her mobile phone. They
too all use different chargers. There was an article on the news the other
day about there being a move to standardise mobile phone chargers. That would
make sense. And then I loaded up the car for the
weekend. Perhaps a tad premature, but now it’s loaded it’s one less thing to
do tomorrow. We take pretty much the same stuff camping every time we go.
Sometimes I have to fight and struggle to get it all into the car. Other
times (like today) it all fitted into the car easily with plenty of
space to spare. I’ve seen all sorts of weather forecasts
for the weekend’s kite festival. Basically they all seem to agree that Friday
and Monday will be OK. They just differ on how much rain to expect on
Saturday and Sunday. Perhaps I’ll drive down via Middle Farm to get some
extra supplies. It’s amazing how much beer one can get through when there’s
not much else going on. “My Boy TM ” is looking forward to
having the house to himself. Perhaps he’ll teach the fish to do more tricks… |
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9 July 2009 (Thursday) - Go Directly
(Back) to Jail
The start of my second long weekend of the
summer. Where has the year gone? There is nothing more uncomfortable than
wandering around all day when the elastic in your pants has gone. It costs
less than a quid to get new pants, so why don’t I chuck these things away? And then back to Mario World – I’ve found an 80s games web site and am now hopelessly addicted to
Super-Mario 3. It’s a rather lame game that over twenty years ago I wasted
many an hour on, and it looks like I shall be wasting time on it again I popped into the pet shop up the road this
morning. The prices of snakes have really escalated. Something which only a
few years ago was thirty or forty quid is now over two hundred. But they had
some Kenyan Sand Boas for forty quid. They are so sweet, and don’t get much
more than a foot long. I must admit to being tempted. Perhaps once the
camping season is over I might think about a small boa. Or perhaps I won’t. A quick train trip to get a plate of egg
& chips in Wetherspoons, and then up to the
chokey. “Norman Stanley” is in relatively good spirits, considering
where he is. He’s looking somewhat gaunt, though and so we fed him up a tad.
Between us we scoffed about a dozen bags of crisps, as many tins of pop, half
a dozen crunchies, several cakes, and more Opal
Fruits (not Starburst!!) than we’ve got sense. It would seem the
recent storms have stuffed up the TV reception in the chokey, and aerials are
being enhanced by hanging kettle leads out of the window. Something which is
quite easy to do, as the windows don’t have glass, perspex
or anything other than bars. I suppose that is good in hot weather, but I
could imagine it being a nuisance in the winter, or what it rains. I’m told
that floods from rain water are commonplace. I can’t help but wonder if such
open-plan architecture isn’t in breach of human rights legislation. I wonder
if I should be rattling cages about this one. I might write to my MP, or
better still, “Norman Stanley”s MP. It would seem that inmates are now required
to eat any fruit immediately on being given the thing, and are not to take it
back to their cells. One enterprising convict apparently managed to open a
panel on the top of his cell door and stuff it full of fruit and sugar. A
week later he loosened a screw at the bottom of the cell, and got drunk on
what had been fermenting inside. You would have thought that the smell would
have been a giveaway. And again (at the risk of a ten year
stretch inside myself) I was amazed at the security arrangements. I was
I.D. checked three times on the way in, and body searched too. But on the way
out I just upped sticks and together with a swarm of twenty or thirty other
visitors just walked out. No one checked me on any lists, or I.D.-ed me. I
just walked out of the prison. I really can’t see anything preventing one
of the inmates from doing the same. So I asked one of the guards what was
stopping them. The arrogant fellow told me that he was. He pointed out that
all the convicts wore a purple sash to identify them. I asked what would
happen in the unlikely event that one was clever enough to drop the sash.
After all, those criminal types are crafty (!) The guard told me that he
knows the faces of all the inmates. All 600+ of them. And presumably he keeps
track of all the new ones, and those that leave or move on to other nicks
too. I had no idea that prisons had guards of
that calibre. We can all sleep soundly in our beds tonight…. |
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10 July 2009
(Friday) - Back to
With the car loaded up we set off to
Brighton Kite festival (for the eighth year running). Eight years – is
it really that long? Despite getting away promptly, by the time we’d gone to
Tesco’s for a sandwich, and then gone to Middle Farm for some emergency
backup beer (just in case), we didn’t get to Stanmer Park until gone
1pm. Although the festival doesn’t actually start until mid morning on the
Saturday, I like to get to a festival early. After all, to me, it’s the
family holiday. Tents were soon up, and Brian went to
sleep. For no adequately explained reason, he’d not slept the previous night.
Whilst he slept, I quietly coppiced the nearby woods. We’d planned to bring a
fire pit, and so needed fuel. I had brought along an axe and some
mega-secateurs to deal with the more recalcitrant dead branches. Whist I
prepared the wood pile, the rest of our party arrived, and set up their tents
and tea. Tea was good, and once it was scoffed, we had birthday cake and
coffee. And then Lisa realised she’d left all her spare clothes at home. Irene and I carried the washing up down to
the toilet block where we faced a dilemma. Should we wash up in the ladies or
the gents? In the end we decided it better to have a lady in the gents than
me in the ladies, and we started scrubbing. As best we could in cold water.
For some reason there was no hot water in the toilet block this year. I could
have gone and whinged at the organisers, but they had plenty enough problems
of their own without having to worry about my washing up. I suspect that one
of the problems was the “normal person” we upset by having a lady in
the gents doing the washing up. Oh – he wasn’t happy at all about that, and
stormed off to complain. Back to camp. A bit of a hike up the hill,
but we’ve camped at the bottom before. It’s very busy and noisy down there.
Half way up the hill we can spread out a bit, and there’s more wood for the
fire pit there. And so to bed. Another advantage of being
half way up the hill is that you don’t get disturbed by all the commotions
with which the people at the bottom do. Like the arrival of sixteen police
officers. Someone had seen the flashing kites in the sky, decided they
were U.F.O.s and had called the law… |
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11 July 2009
(Saturday) - In a Field, In the Rain
I got to bed shortly after midnight, and
despite having had over a gallon of ale and a lot of port, I slept very
restlessly, waking at least once every hour. Having lain awake listening to
the rain for what felt like ages, I wandered down to the shower block for my
morning shave shortly after 5am. It was as well that I did – I was able to
pull all of the broccoli out of the plug hole that
we’d left there from the night before. Back to bed, and just as I finally dozed
off around 8am, so Batty arrived with a suitcase full of Lisa’s smalls. He
also wanted brekkie, Which was understandable. I wanted brekkie too. A
sterling bit of scoff was devoured, and then after washing up, I went for a
look round the festival. This year there were a lot more people camping than
last, but I think there were perhaps less stalls. Which is probably for the
best – I’m a sucker for buying stuff. In the past I’ve spent hundreds of
pounds at There was a rather odd feeling to the
morning. It was intermittently raining (which is never a good thing),
and a sizeable proportion of the campers had gone off to a wedding. Two of
the regulars had decided that I scoffed a quick sarnie, and then I was on
duty. I’d volunteered to help in the kiddies’ workshop where children (under
expert (!) supervision) make their own kites from recycled bamboo canes
and carrier bags, and then fly them into nearby trees. Despite the incessant
rain, we had a constant stream of children wanting to make kites. In fact,
after two hours we had to turn people away. As I was wandering back over the kite field
I had quite a shock. Someone hit me whilst I wasn’t looking. As I flew
backwards, I was quite upset that someone would clobber me rather than have a
discrete word. As I scraped myself off the floor, I saw the wreckage of a
fellow kiter also laid out. It transpired that as I’d been walking across the
field I wasn’t looking where I was going and I was waving at an old mate.
Someone else also wasn’t looking where he was going, and was running
backwards with his kite. I’m told by those who saw us collide that the entire
episode was really fun to watch. I’m afraid my gob would disagree, and Bow’s
back was bad all weekend after the impact. So we retreated back to camp. The rain by
now had slackened off to a medium monsoon and with all kite related activity
unfortunately abandoned we started on the beer at 3.15pm. We did have an
invitation to join the wedding party for a game of rounders,
but it looked rather too wet for that. We decided to stick to what we knew
best. As well as the five gallons of ale I’d brought along, After a smashing bit of curry for tea, and
the obligatory washing up, To bed shortly after midnight – I woke up
in the communal tent to find everyone else had gone to bed and left me
sitting there, fast asleep…. |
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12 July 2009
(Sunday) -
Another sleepless night. Not only rain, but
wind too. Having lain awake listening to the banners flapping for an hour, I
got up at 3am to take them down. I went back to bed, but didn’t sleep, and
again at 5am was walking down the slope to have my morning ablutions. In the
middle of the field was a duvet. I suppose there are several valid reasons
why one would leave a duvet in a field. I decided it wasn’t my problem, and
left it there. It turned out that it had been used for second base in the rounders match, and no one had got around to clearing it
up yet. Whilst waiting for brekkie, an entertaining
five minutes was spent watching “mollusc wars” in which Lisa was
fighting a slug against a snail. Unfortunately for popular entertainment, the
invertebrates weren’t having any of it, and both just slimed away. And then
the sun came out. We watched people flying kites as we scoffed out brekkie,
and then set up the girls stall. Seeing as the weather was against us
yesterday, we didn’t bother, but the plan was to do face painting, flog
candles, that sort of thing. The girls chose a good spot just where all the
normal people would be crossing from one field to another. And we set up
there. The wind was just a tad too strong, though. We decided to take the
gazebo down – you can’t run a stall when you are desperately clinging to the
gazebo to stop it blowing away. With the girls ensconced on their stall, we
went to get replacement poles. Some of the banner poles have seen better
days, and some are just plain broken. We bought three new poles, and put them
up to check they were OK. Two were fine. One wouldn’t come down again. Two of
its sections had fused together. We had this idea to lubricate them with
cooking oil. It was as well that we had plenty in the mess tent, but no
matter how liberally we applied the stuff, we couldn’t separate the poles.
Eventually we wondered if we shouldn’t take the broken bit back to the shop,
but on reflection we decided that filling the thing with cooking oil had
probably invalidated any guarantees that the shop might have offered. In the
end we replaced the broken section in the new poles with a functional segment
from a knacked pole. Not ideal, but it will do the job. Hopefully. A bag of crisps for dinner, and leaving
some of our crew fast asleep for the afternoon, I set off back to the kiddies workshop. With the better weather we had a queue
of children all afternoon. The event was only marred by “Thugbert”,
a particularly nasty example of the worst of humanity. His dog (which
probably should have been muzzled) peed up the tent, and “Thugbert” could see no problem with it. I saw the
twit later in the afternoon, who was ranting at anyone and everyone about the
incident. Apparently he would have done something about the dog if the people
running the festival had “shown him respect”. He then started
screaming abuse at the world in general because an insect had flown into his
beer. Having helped the now sunburned
girlie-types take their stall down, we volunteered to help tidy away after
the festival. We were charged with gathering up eight wheelie-bins, and with
lugging a generator across the field. A minor hiccup was that every gate we
met was closed and guarded to keep pikeys out. This tended to interrupt the
momentum, but then, sometimes momentum is best interrupted. Back to camp where, with the better
weather, we had more success with the fire pit. After a smashing bit of scoff
we stood around the fire as the light failed, drinking beer and port, and
scoffing two year old pickled eggs. (I’m quite pleased with how the eggs
have turned out.) I learned that foxes don’t have opposable thumbs, and
that earlier in the day the RSPCA had been selling dead dogs at Asda. (I’m
sure that’s what she said...) And then I noticed something odd on the
main road. A dozen vans towing caravans had parked up, and the occupants were
eying our cam site. Pikeys!! Our fire had turned out to be a pikey-magnet. In
the end the travellers drove off elsewhere, but there was an exciting twenty
minutes or so whist we waited in anticipation for… I’m not quite sure what we
were expecting, but in the end we were disappointed. |
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13 July 2009
(Monday) - Home Again
A third restless night. I was packing my
bags by 7am – there is only so much laying awake that you can do. Sometimes
one misses having ironing to do. A minor disaster - I remembered that I
didn’t have a spanner to disassemble the buggy. I’d borrowed one from my
brother in law when we put it together on Friday. And then a text message. One of the
youngsters had taken a tumble on Saturday afternoon whilst playing rounders in the rain. The first aiders had diagnosed a
pulled muscle. The lad had been to hospital where they found his arm had
broken in two places, and would need pinning under anaesthetic to put right. First aiders are one of my pet hates. These
people had been driving around in two transit vans all weekend. They’d
written “Emergency vehicle” on the side, and by not sending this
youngster to hospital had actually done more harm than good. I recall another
kiting injury a few years ago when the so-called first aiders were too busy
sucking up to the local mayor to see to their injured. Why do these first
aiders bother? Why don’t they just get a job on the ambulances? (rant over…) I disposed of the ashes from the fire pit
and the unburned firewood. And then extinguished any remaining heat in the
ashes by tiddling my initials into them. We then had a quick bit of brekkie
which (in a novel break with tradition) I helped cook, and then we
packed up. Goodbyes were said – the trouble with kiting as a hobby is that
all my mates live so far away and we meet up so infrequently. We were away shortly after eleven, and home
and doing laundry by 3pm. I even got the lawn mowed too. I feel worn out.
Three nights not sleeping properly and I’ve caught the sun too. It’s been suggested that we camp out at
the The trouble with camping is that (as
“Corporal Clot of the S.A.S.” once told me) there is camping, and there
is being miserable in a tent. Whilst setting up our own personal tents is
easy enough, we need somewhere to cook. And we need a table to cook on. And
all the cooking tackle. And some sort of shelter in
case it rains. After all, as we found out over the last few days, if the
weather is bad, you need to be prepared for the worst. And that’s why we go
so loaded down when we go camping. I wonder if we could hire a caravan for the
Ardingly weekend? |
|
14 July 2009
(Tuesday) -
Understandably I was rather tired last
night. I slept like a log – until 5am. And was rather restless from then on.
I eventually got up shortly after 8am. I must admit I wasn’t feeling 100% -
perhaps the after effects of three nights excessive drinking, the exertions
of the weekend, or too much sun. I toyed with the idea of cutting my time off
short and going into work, but thought better of it. For all that I am
constantly worrying about the place, I’d rather not
be there. I finished off my latest letter to the
chokey – this will be the twenty-fifth. All the letters seem to end up being
a dozen pages long. I suppose I cheat a bit by using the blog as a basis for
the letters, but by the time I’ve added some swearing, some photos and an
impossible crossword I probably spend about three hours on the letter, so I
don’t think I’m cheating that much. As I came back from the post office, so
the latest letter from the chokey arrived. Rather bad timing! I had a plan for today. I was going to
unload the storage bins in the back garden. Yesterday when putting the
camping gear away, I found so much stuff in there that really shouldn’t be
there. We have gazebos and tents that no one claims. There are spare parts
for the beer pavilion that I doubt we’ll ever use. And tents that haven’t
been put up in years, and I suspect have been chewed by mice. One day I
really should have a proper sort through it all. But not today. I did laundry
instead. Five loads. In between trips to the washing machine and
the washing line outside, the day was spent entirely in NeverWinter, sailing
virtual seas on my sailing ship the Azure Star. Not my
choice of a name, but you can’t have everything. I was hunting down
pirates and various sea-going monsters trolls and assorted ne’er-do-wells.
Some might say it was a waste of a day, but it served to keep my mind off
work. I could do with something to do that permanently. This evening we had a phone call from the
chokey – “Norman Stanley” seems well. And then a visitor. Someone who
was a regular on a Tuesday evening has returned after an absence of some
years. He says the house looks “busy”, but the garden less so. I’m
sure his mother will be glad to hear he’s looking well…. |
|
15 July 2009
(Wednesday) - Housework
After some two hours sleep last night I was
woken around 2am by the sounds of “My Boy TM ” quietly bringing loads of
crockery out of his bedroom. He had no plan to wash it up, just to dump it in
the kitchen. I then lay awake until 5am when I gave up, got up and ironed.
After all, I’d spent all day yesterday generating the stuff – might as well
get it done. I came home from work to find that “Daddies
Little Angel TM ” has spent the day generating
more washing up. Neither brat will actually wash any of it. It transpires
that it would cause them physical pain to wash anything they personally
haven’t dirtied, so to be on the safe side, they leave the lot. It’s just as
well that I’m there to skivvy after them. I hoiked a dead
fish out of the pond. A mirror carp. Rather odd, as we never put any mirror
carp in there. I wonder how that got in? Yesterday’s missive from the chokey brought
a visiting order. But what with people having booked leave in August already,
I’m not able to arrange another prison visit until September. September !! – the year’s flying
away. And, a closing thought – at the beginning
of the month I mentioned that I wanted to go back to |
|
16 July 2009
(Thursday) - Health & Games
I had a pig of a drive to There was an interesting article on the
radio on the way home. Some do-gooding busybody wants to do away with the
concept of retirement. Apparently working until you finally drop dead is good
for the body, mind and spirit as well as giving meaning to life. Whereas
retiring causes low self esteem and is upsetting and insulting to the
retired. I wish some people would bog off. I’d retire tomorrow if I could. And so to the occupational health
department. I hate sitting in doctor’s waiting rooms. They are full of
helpful leaflets which explain why you’ve probably got every disease known to
science, why you lead the unhealthiest life on the planet and tell you that
you are too fat and that you drink too much. In the end, I wasn’t in there
for very long. I’ve had enough of being a manager and having given my bosses
a list of twenty-plus reasons why I feel I can’t cope with my current job
I’ve asked for a grade reduction. Management wanted occupational health’s
agreement that I was suffering from stress. After two minutes the doctor wrote
the letter. I’m not sure what happens next, but for once the future at work
looks a tad brighter. I doubt it will last. Meanwhile back in reality the Azure
Star has found pirates, and I’ve got to the second Mario world… |
|
17 July 2009
(Friday) -
The morning’s haul of emails brought one
from eBay. I have received an “unpaid item strike”. A couple of weeks
ago I tried to buy a battery for my mobile phone. I paid for the thing, and
received an email to say they’d posted it. Five days later they refunded my
money. I asked what was going on. They’d refunded because they didn’t have
what I’d ordered. So because they’d claimed to have posted the thing, they’d
clearly lied to me. And so I gave them negative feedback. So in revenge they
contacted eBay and claimed I’d never paid them, and I got an “unpaid item
strike”. I wasn’t standing for that, filled out the on-line form to
complain, and by return of post, eBay’s automated system removed the strike. Bearing in mind the problems I had actually
getting hold of my shed the other week, I’m a tad fed up with eBay at the
moment. Its fine all the time things go well, but when things don’t, it would
always have been easier to have dealt with a “proper” shop. And then to Once off the bus, some of our number
queued. I zoomed in to bag seats and a table. Which in the event was easier
said than done. But eventually we were ensconced with more beer, curry,
peanuts and olives than sense. To everyone’s consternation I won three things
in the tombola – last year’s Good Beer Guide, some lame CAMRA leaflets, and a
false beard which I used to scare the normal people. And then beer - as always I started off
choosing the beer with the silliest names. “Dark Side of the Moose”
was OK, but “Dartford Wobbler” tasted of raw potatoes. After “Wicked
Women”, “Daffy’s Elixir” and “Old
Stoatwobbler” thisng
became rather vague, and so we left the festival a tad early so as to miss
the last minute scrum in which several hundred people can’t all fit on the
last bus. A mooch round the piercing studios in Too much to drink, but a good fun day out.
Same time next year…… |
|
18 July 2009
(Saturday) - Dungeness
A day at the seaside. A gaggle of us went
to Dungeness. The lighthouse is a good place to visit, if a tad scary if
you’re not good with heights. Which I’m not. But half a dozen of us braved
the heights. The view from the top was good, and we wondered about the naval
ship that was sailing past. We looked for dolphins, but didn’t see any. But I
got to take quite a few photos with my USB binoculars, and they are now
sitting on Facebook. If you scroll down a bit, on the right hand side of this
page there’s a link to my Facebook photo albums. I had a plan to move all my
photos to Picasa so’s they would be accessible in
slide shows via the Blogger software, but in the end, I couldn’t be bothered. Climbing down the lighthouse was probably more scary than going up it, and then we adjourned for a
bite to eat. There’s only one pub near the lighthouse, and whilst the food
was good, it wasn’t cheap. And there was a bit of an attitude from staff. OK,
I can understand that they are not keen on providing bowls of warm water for
warming baby food. I can see that there may well be health and safety issues.
However if a bowl of warm water is to be labelled as a danger, then so must
be bowls of soup, and cups of tea and coffee. I detest pubs (or any business come to
that) who feel that because of their location they have a monopoly and
can act as arrogantly as they please. I suppose they make their money from
the tourist trade, and don’t expect people to return. A shame, because next
time I’m in Dungeness, we shall drive elsewhere to find a pub. And then we popped into the lifeboat
station to have a look around. It never fails to amaze me that lifeboats are
funded on an entirely voluntary basis. When you think of what the government
wastes money on, surely lifeboats deserve a contribution? |
|
19 July 2009
(Sunday) - To The Cinema
I wasn’t sure what the plan for today was,
but I was hoping for something. A walk, a bike ride. But I woke up to
drizzle, and the day never really cheered up much. I got the lawn mowed,
which was a result, and I thought about cleaning out the fish pond filter.
But I thought better of that idea. I might do it one evening in the week – I
really couldn’t face smelling of carp poo today. To the cinema with Chris. I’ve been wanting to see the new Harry Potter film ever since I
read the book four years ago. I can remember queuing up at midnight to buy
the book when it first came out, and spending much of that weekend sitting
with a gaggle of friends in Kearsney Abbey. I enjoyed the book. Like any
sixth book in a series, it relied heavily on what had gone before. And if I
hadn’t read the previous five books prior to reading it, I would have been
somewhat confused. But that’s how a series works. Take the Star Wars films
for example. One follows nicely into the next. To use a technical tern, it’s
got “continuity”. ****Minor spoiler alert***** I’m afraid to say that today’s film was,
like all Harry Potter films, rubbish. It only works as an illustration of
some of the scenes from the book. As a self-contained work of cinematic art,
it fails at the first hurdle. If you’ve read the book then you will recognise
the various scenes of the film. If you’ve read the book and know the
characters, some of the scenes are variously amusing, well done, emotional
and scary. And they are done so well that you don’t realise that the scenes
are utterly disjointed and that the film actually lacks any continuity
whatsoever. Why on Earth were the characters of Neville, Fred, George, Luna,
Tonks and Lupin in this film at all? They lent
nothing to the plot (such as it was) and having been given centre
stage for a scene or two, they never appeared again. What was that with
Dumbledore’s hand? Or the pensieve? Or the
phoenix? Compare this to a film I watched earlier in
the year. “Twilight” worked as a film of a book because some things
from the book were left out, and the story was consistent without those
dropped elements. The Harry Potter film wasn’t. It didn’t have a plot that
could be followed, and only made any sense if you’d read the book. On another note, I was amazed how busy the
cinema was at 1pm on a Sunday – heaving. And I felt rather sorry for the
parents of the hoards of six year olds who’d taken their kiddies to see what wasn’t (by any stretch of the imagination) a child’s film.
There will be nightmares tonight…. |
|
20 July 2009
(Monday) - Forty Years Ago
Forty years ago today, men first walked on
the moon. I don’t actually remember Apollo 11, but I can remember the
world-wide panic when Apollo 13 got into difficulties, and I can remember
sprinting home from school at dinner time to see whatever the astronauts had
been up to. And having watched the moon landings, I confidently looked
forward to a bright future in which humanity expanded. There are those who seem to confuse human
expansion into space with fanciful science fiction. But they are wrong. The
urge to explore is something fundamental to humanity – ever since the first
cave man wondered what was on the other side of the first hill he found. And
so that was what I was expecting as a child – a world with orbital
laboratories, colonies on the Moon, Mars, and the satellites of the outer
planets. Instead, after Neil Armstrong’s “Giant Leap” humanity has
taken a “Big Stand Still”, and will be standing still for at least
another ten years. In between work I phoned the prison to book
my next visit. I got through relatively quickly this time – it only took
seven hours for them to answer. But the visit is booked. If it takes as long
to get through next time I shall complain to the governor. I wonder what his
response might be. And then in keeping with the astronomical
theme of the day I left work and went straight to the committee meeting of
the astro club. I was only an hour late, and managed
to miss pretty much everything. Sometimes I detest late shifts. But the view
of the sunset from the pub was rather pretty… |
|
21 July 2009
(Tuesday) - Noise
Being on a late start, I was rather naively
hoping for a bit of a lie in this morning. Last night I even prompted “My
Boy TM ”
about keeping the noise down. To his credit, he merely crashed down the
stairs at 5.30am, not thundering as he usually would. And he closed the front
door quietly – the impact of the closure only being audible for a few hundred
yards – not miles as is usually the case. However the rest of the tribe made
up for him this morning. “Daddies Little Angel TM ” sang beatifically with the voice
of a (hell’s) angel, and rather than typing in the standard
manner, ‘er indoors TMoperated
her computer’s keyboard with what sounded like hammers. I didn’t want to
sleep, anyway. I spent a bit of time updating the
blog’s “Dates for the Diary” section. I tend to agree to all
sorts of things and then forget about them, so it might help as a bit of an
aide-memoir. There are those who claim it may be used as an open invitation
to burglars. It’s more likely to be used by “My Boy TM ”
to know when the coast is clear to get up to mischief, and the thought of him
being caught mid-prod by a burglar is something I’ve been sniggering about
for most of the day. One of the events featured on the “Dates
for the Diary” is a cycle ride I’ve got in mind for this weekend – a
trip to Ruckinge & back. Because I was a tad
bored before work this morning, I drove the proposed route to see how
feasible it would be. It took about fifteen minutes in the car, so I reckon
an hour on the bike should be about right. See you all at the Blue Anchor…. |
|
22 July 2009 (Wednesday) - Stuff
I slept right through until 6am today. I
was impressed, and ironed six shirts in celebration. As I hung the washing on
the line, the fish were particularly noisy. Bloodworms seem to breed in the
filter box, and the fish lurk by the waterfall to get the bloodworms as they
fall out. The fish were slurping particularly loudly this morning. You
wouldn’t think a carp could be a noisy animal. I suppose they’ve been taking
lessons from the rest of the family. As I got in my car today, I found myself
giving my roof box an experimental prod. It seems that baboons
in a safari park have learned how to open the boxes. Not content
with ripping off wing mirrors and windscreen wipers, they now destroy roof
boxes. I can’t imagine how anyone would be so dumb as to drive through one of
those places – and I can vouch for having done some pretty dumb things. I looked out of the window this evening to
a scary sight. Not only had “My Boy TM ” not been arguing with his
sister for a full half an hour, but he was also getting the laundry in from
the washing line. That boy is up to something. I wonder what… And then to the World’s Wonder – my
current “favourite pub”. With a decent ale (Wonderbrew)
and food which really is home made, it’s a shame this place isn’t closer to
home. In a few weeks time they are having “A Night of Nostalgia with an
Old Time Sing-A-Long”. This event apparently features Elspeth at the
pianoforte, and I wouldn’t miss it for all the tea in We were at the pub for a meal to celebrate
Chris’ birthday. He’s fifty, you know. Fifty. That’s ancient. I shall be
fifty in five years time. I don’t feel old at all. I suppose everything is
relative, as Albert once said. Mind you, I am hobbling about like an old man
today. My right knee has been incredibly painful all day. At 10pm ‘er indoors TM admitted she’d
hoofed me in the knee last night because the gentle sounds of my rhythmic
breathing were keeping her awake. Pah ! |
|
23 July 2009
(Thursday) - A Tad Dull
All things considered, today was a tad
dull, and just another day in the life. It’s amazing how quickly one takes
not laying awake all night for granted, and I would probably have snored on
for half the day had “My Boy TM ” not done
an impression of the explosion of Krakatoa as he closed the front door at
5.30am this morning. To work – sometimes I love working for the
NHS. With two days of my secondment left, I am given a task which would take
lesser mortals weeks to do. Fortunately I am wonderful, and rose to the
occasion. Having started early, I came home early and put the finishing
touches to two
of my most recent major projects.
Both are still very much “works in progress”, but as my secondment
ends tomorrow, I doubt I’ll get time to finish them. I’m not doing in in my
own time. Because I work in a laboratory, we can’t
have a drink while we work – we have to go for formal tea breaks. In my
breaks I’ve been reading the “Twilight” series of books. I’ve borrowed
them, and have been reading them for the last couple of months. At the risk
of sounding ungrateful, much as I’ve enjoyed them, now I’ve finished, I’m
disappointed. In several thousand pages of books, nothing actually happened. And then I tuned into the news. Disaster!
The company that makes the best shoes in the world is in financial
difficulties. I realise that the less fashion conscious among us have mocked
my crocs - what do they know? But crocs
are no more. A sad sign of our times. Because the things don’t fall
apart within a week, there’s no profit to be made from them, and the firm
that makes them is slowly going west…. |
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24 July 2009
(Friday) - To The Post Office
To the post office to collect a parcel.
They now insist that you produce some identification before they hand over
your parcel to you. The fact that you’ve got the slip they left isn’t good
enough. Apparently someone might be sneaky enough to have broken into your
house to nick that slip. So I showed the retard-on-duty my passport. It was actually rather embarrassing
watching him trying to read the name and address on my passport and attempt
to compare it to the information on the parcel. Eventually he satisfied
himself that they matched, and handed both back to me. I pointed out that
surely he should have compared the photo on the passport with my face. Surely
all that any I.D. with an address on can show is that you got that I.D. from
the same place where the post office’s slip was left. I might have nicked
that passport whilst I was nicking the delivery slip. And therefore what he’d
so laboriously scrutinised was no better than just producing the slip the
postman left in the first place. Surely you need to know that the person
collecting the parcel is who they claim to be, not that they have potentially
stolen several things from the same address? However the application of intelligence was
way beyond this retard’s capability, and I left him standing with a look of
utter confusion on his dial. I think I might become a retard – life would be
so much simpler. Today was the last day of my secondment,
and I got given another epic task to do. I wonder if I shouldn’t have
accepted that job at the hospital at Chatham all those months ago. Despite torrential rain I went to A shame that this secondment has to end –
I’ve got so much done in three months. And all the students have said they’ve
got more done with me in three months than in the last year or so. I’ve
gently suggested they write to management. And for all that I hate driving, I actually
like driving to When I got home, despite the torrential
rain, I mucked out the pond’s fish poo filter. There was no one home, and so
I had this idea that if I was quick, I wouldn’t get any grief for doing so.
I’ve taken to cleaning the thing out in the bath, as it’s easier all round. I don’t have to lug buckets of water all over the
place, and the carp turds go down the plughole. The only drawback is that (for
no adequately explored reason) the women get all twitchy about it. But I
had the thing apart, scrubbed, back in place and myself
bathed before they came home. They will never know… |
|
25 July 2009
(Saturday) – Ruckinge
A long time ago I received an email from
the new landlord of the Blue Anchor in Ruckinge.
He’d seen my review of the place on Beer in the Evening, and
wondered if I would care to change my opinion seeing as he’d taken over. For
a while I’ve considered Ruckinge to be a bit far
for a cycle ride, but today four of us set off. It might have been five –
maybe next time. We had a lovely ride through the
countryside. Very scenic, marred only by two near fatal collisions. Both with
the same car. One where a car came round the corner far too fast and nearly
flattened Batty, and then one where the same car nearly flattened me because
I was laughing at Batty so much. We arrived at our destination and met up
with the chauffer-driven, only to find that the kitchen in the Blue Anchor
was closed today. I’m not impressed. The pub has a website – why not mention
that you’re not doing food? I suppose that by not mentioning that, they
conned the price of a round of drinks out of us. Money they otherwise
wouldn’t have had. Once we’d drunk up we cycled a mile or so along the road
into Bilsington. Relying on memory and pot luck
rather than cartography, seeing as we’d actually gone so far from home we’d
cycled off the edge of the map. We found the White Horse, which did do food,
and had a foxy barmaid with a barrel of beer on the counter. Oh yes ! And a stilton ploughmans
too. That slipped down well. I had this vague idea that I could navigate us
home via the Good Intent, and I did, albeit up a rather steep hill. I didn’t
actually get off and push, but it was a close-run thing. A crafty IPA in
Aldington Frith, and then home. I got my shears out and treated myself to a
haircut. One of my better ideas was to buy a pair of shears about ten years
ago. It cost me fifteen quid, and I’ve never paid for a haircut since.
However, a minor hiccup today – I think I had them
set a tad short. Still, it’ll grow back. Or it won’t. And then a walk up town. I wanted to pop
into Waterstones, and I needed to get a birthday card to send to “Norman
Stanley”. Have you ever tried to get a birthday card suitable to
send into a prison? They all bleat on about having a wonderful day, happy
day… in the end I got him one with a knob joke, and I’m hoping for the best. |
|
26 July 2009 (Sunday) - Going for a Walk
I woke up early and put some washing in.
Someone has to. A quick shave, and back to bed. When I got up, so did
everyone else. I thought I’d make a cuppa. So did everyone else. I thought
I’d go to the loo. So did everyone else. I thought I’d brush my teeth. So did
everyone else. Why is it that with no time pressures at all today, everyone
is under my feet, and swearing at me for being in their way? A phone call from the chokey. He thought
he’d surprise us. It did that. Apparently he had a few moments this morning
before the wing’s snooker tournament. Once he hung up and went off to pot
red, I designed a flier for the astro club. I’ve
been meaning to do it for ages. You can see it here.
The idea is that what’s on that website is printed either
side of a landscaped side of A4, and then with a couple of folds it
will make a flier that could be handed out to advertise the club. It’s not
quite right yet – all comments & suggestions for improving it are
welcomed. There’s a minor hiccup that the publisher program crashes whenever
I try to print, but I’m sure I can get round that somehow. And then I got on with the lawn. It doesn’t
mow itself, you know. And I trimmed back the overgrowth from next door. He
does like his climbing plants, and I don’t mind their hanging over the fence
really. If only they wouldn’t keep dropping petals and leaves all over the
place. In the afternoon me and ‘er indoors TM went for a walk
round Ashford
Community Woodland. I didn’t even know the place existed, but it’s
been there for ten years. It’s a series of woods and heaths connected by
various footpaths. All very scenic. Now we know it’s there we may well go
more often, but then again, maybe not. At the risk of playing into the hands
of other bloggers who describe me as a “fitness freak” (pah!), I must admit that when I go for a
walk, I want to take more than half an hour to do so. We left home at about
1.15pm, found the place, strolled round the entire lot and were back in the
car less than an hour later. Much as it’s a good place to be, there’s not a
lot there. You can’t realistically decide to spend an afternoon at an
attraction and be finished by 2pm, can you? So we drove down to Orlestone
woods - just outside Hamstreet. We cycled past
there a few weeks ago, and today we spent a little while wandering round the
woods, trying (and mostly failing) to photograph butterflies. Having spent the afternoon in woodlands, I
realised a sign of our times. When I was a lad, most trees would have ropes
hanging out of them. Ropes close in to the trunk so small boys could climb
the tree easier, and ropes a bit further out hanging from branches that small
boys would swing on. Today – not a single rope. And not a single child
running wild in the woods. Don’t children these days play in woods? I used
to, and so did “My BoyTM”. Home via Tesco’s. I never learn, do I? No
matter when you go, morning, noon or night. It doesn’t make any difference –
the place is heaving with retards. But I bought a nice pink shirt, so the
journey wasn’t entirely wasted. I shall wear that shirt in |
|
27 July 2009
(Monday) -
Whenever I set my alarm clock (alarm
phone) I’m usually awake waiting for it to go off. I think I was awake
most of the night waiting for the 5am alarm. An early start, as the train
went at 6.20am. “My Boy TM ” gave me a lift to the
station, and it was as well that he did. Oh the fun we had with the queue. One of the normal people wanted a long term
season ticket, but refused to have the accompanying photo-card that went with
it. Somehow or other that would have impinged on his civil liberties. And
then the next one wanted an off-peak ticket, and didn’t like the fact that he
couldn’t get one before 10am. He was getting quite shirty, and demanded that
since his train was about to go, perhaps the bloke behind the counter could
just sell him an off-peak ticket, and he could have the rest of the argument
on the train. When eventually I got my turn I didn’t have the heart to tell
the ticket bloke that his price was £1.40 more than their web site had
quoted. The train journey to Brighton was OK, once
we’d got past As I came out of the Bo Peep tunnel I had a
text message – an update from my correspondent in I arrived at the hospital and was
immediately glad I hadn’t driven. There was no parking at the hospital.
That’s not “all the spaces were taken” – there was no parking at all.
I had been told that had I driven I might have been lucky enough to have
found a parking space in a nearby street. But all the streets looked very
full of cars, and there were more traffic wardens there than I’ve ever seen
before anywhere during normal working hours. The Built on a hillside, the bit where I was
going was level 6, and was actually on the ground floor. I was there to
formally assess one of their lab’s trainees, and the chap’s manager was a
lady with whom I went to college at Brighton Tec from 1981 – 83. Years ago. I
felt rather sorry for the poor bloke – he was excellent, and passed with
flying colours. And then sat and politely listened whilst me
and his boss had a good old gossip. Before leaving the hospital I thought I’d
visit Corinne, who was hard at work on one of the wards. I’m glad I don’t
work on a hospital ward – they always look such busy places. I had this plan to spend a bit of time
reviewing old haunts before going home, but pretty much all the shops I used
to visit have closed over the last twenty six years. And it was raining hard.
So I merely kept up the tradition of taking home a pineapple for ‘er indoors TM. Twenty-odd years ago,
every college day, I would bring her home a pineapple. Finding a greengrocer inBrighton took some doing, but eventually I found
one. As luck would have it, the greengrocer was just over the road from the Evening Star – a pub I’ve been meaning to visit for years. It’s got the largest selection of ales I’ve ever seen in a pub, and cider & perry on tap too. So, since I had a few minutes until the train was due, I had a crafty half. Just the one. It’s not as much fun without a gang of mates in tow, but I enjoyed a a pint of their “Original” whilst I tried (and failed) to text a picture of the pump clips to “the usual suspects”. There are currently five pubs on Beer in the Evening’s website that I rate at 9/10. This place might possibly be the sixth. |
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28 July
2009 (Tuesday) - Making Money
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29 July
2009 (Wednesday) - Stuff
There’s not
a very long list of suspects… |
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30 July
2009 (Thursday) - A Dull Day
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31 July
2009 (Friday) - Propaganda
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