Taking out the trash...

Bit annoyed with the councils this week. It seems there’s a plot to keep us all knee-deep in rubbish. First of all, they’ve changed the bin collection day. It was that big a change in our lives that we even had e-mails sent out asking us if the draft for the letter was OK. And when the big day arrived, we were told that our day would stay the same, but we would expect an earlier collection. So on Wednesday night I remembered and put the bin out on the pavement ready to go. Then on Thursday morning I heard a rumbling and realised that the early bird does indeed catch the worm. But on my way to work; I went to collect said bin only to find it not empty. So I carry on with my normal activities; only to return to find that the bins had still not been emptied. Then this morning I hear another rumbling only to spot a refuse vehicle driving past our house. Clearly there has been a momentous cock-up…  

Come on Tim

So Wimbledon is getting pretty exciting  this year with big names like Federer being knocked out early this year and everyone’s acting so amazed. It may even affect ticket sales with the bigwigs being out this early. Everyone’s talking about how Andy Murray may be in with a chance this year, even though he always dashes everyone’s hopes most valiantly in the final round. But newcomer Laura Robson looks promising this year; with a charming smile and a general look of pleasant astonishment upon beating her higher ranked superiors. And with the added twist of extra injuries and people slipping on the court this year; it’s going to be an interesting tournament. Have the big internationals finally slipped up through lack of training and agedness? Or has there been a new breed of grass on the courts? How many celebs with big hats will grace the audience this year? Come on Tim. 

Be careful what you say out there...

It’s interesting how we currently see politics in the liberal media. We see Bill Clinton as liberal loving democrat and an ambassador of freedom; making crazy decisions because he can. We see the evil Republican Party; always keen to make money and report to the higher power of the media networks and oil cartoons. But what of it here in Blighty? Well, our own parodies are yet to take off. We get the occasional fat politician drawn in the paper when a new motion is proposed.  Our critics tread carefully for fear of being sued; as our freedom of expression isn’t as free as that of the USA. Any harsh criticism can instantly be complained about; and ultimately fired from your programme or publication. Ultimately, comedy can be too cruel if you say the wrong thing or get the one person who misinterprets the whole joke. So be careful what you say out there, and think before you speak. It might just save your job… 

How hard can it be?

This morning I came back from swimming and decided to save the environment by not washing my swimwear. After all, I’ve only worn it once and a quick dry outside on a lovely sunny day would surely render it ready for service again. So I decided to set up the washing line. Not a gigantic task, but for me I was also knocked unconscious by the steel. Why does the hook not fit onto the axel? With one shake, the whole thing came sliding towards me. Luckily my Jedi reflexes kicked in and I caught the pole in the nick of time. After a speedy recovery, my next task was to hang the towel on the line. A simple large wet household towel. As soon as I let go of the towel, the whole line collapsed. The end of the line just came loose and suddenly the end was there with nothing to tie it to. Honestly, how hard can it be? I’ve now got the stopwatch set to see how long the dam laundry will actually stay on the line…

Shout about success...!

I don’t really get the purpose of today’s modern media. Take any situation; whether there’s a flood, a murder taking place, or a robbery; someone will just try and film it. We’re always being shown footage of deprived children; which has obviously been filmed somewhere then sent back to be shown during commercials. But how do we know that these conditions still exist? It can only still exist if the cameraman has decided to walk away from the situation; which defeats the purpose of the advertisement. In other words; are we actually paying for the advert for someone to go out and film? Where’s the heroism? Where’s the effort to actually help our fellow man rather than to film it to make money off it? And how do we see results? If the ad is to succeed; we need to see the good and the plans of the project; not merely to fund another commercial…

What the folk...

On Friday night I suddenly realised that this century may see the demise of the humble Morris dancer. For hundreds of years these proud men have gaily dressed up in white and skipped happily about waving hankies and sticks at each over on village greens all in the hope of getting free beer. But times are tough. The young dancers that were are now grown old with kids of their own and injuries to boot. Other commitments have arose. And so, when it’s time for the traditional village fete; the once popular may pole is now just a pole. If we cannot encourage others to take an interest in joining the fold, then what hope is there? But if the team volunteer to help recruit others into the fold en mass at public events, surely that will gain interest from others. It’s either that or it’s finally time to wash those hankies…  

Crash and Burn

So it's Friday night, the sun is out, and all the weirdos are about! There's the smell of charcoal in the air as people settle for the traditional summer grill. There's ugly blokes with beer bellies sat in their cars waiting for their mates to come out. And there's idiotic boy racers zooming all over the place causing all sorts of chaos. What I once took to be a building of granny flats is now a racing HQ. They seem to be everywhere travelling at insane speeds only to have to slam on the brakes 100 yards later. And why the hell do thy have to play crap music at stupidly high levels? Are they compensating for something? It's a dead giveaway for when the fuzz go by; not that they're out en mass anyways. So I really hope they crash and burn once they've finished ramming their auto into the nearest lamppost. 

Are you sure you've got this Right, Sir?

So today was another disappointing out of control day. While leaving the M1 my car decided to put up a fight with the gear stick. Although I managed to get the dear old thing up the hill, it still decided to play up and I quickly managed to pull into the hard shoulder. Two attempts later and it wouldn't even shift into gear. So after a brief pause, I did the only thing I could do and rang the man in the van. Amazingly, after 40 minutes the mechanic arrived and the bloody thing started first time. So Patrick the mechanic (my new best friend) is so determined to find the problem that I take a 20 minute drive to get me even further away from my destination. We then decide to fit a new part which, luckily for me, is charged at the stock price as it's been in the van for a while. And all this time I'm thinking; did it really not start in gear? Sigh..

The Meeting

Tonight was the meeting. The final meeting before the event. We’ve been meeting monthly since March to plan this thing and this was to be the last meeting before we were ready. And still people weren’t ready. Round and round the circles went. How come we’re doing this? We clarified this last time.  This was what we decided. We made a record of it. I didn’t receive that. But I sent it a month ago…So why are you bringing it up again? There is no pint in making a record of the meeting if you are just going to ignore it. And even in the final round-up, we still manage to stumble upon something that we discussed earlier in the same hour. It’s like having to re-assure each individual rather than to agree on what was generally decided. How we’ll get round to setting everything up with everyone in place will be a total mystery. Geronimo! 

Commitment

It takes commitment to get things done. You’ve got to face the delicate balance of really pushing yourself to achieve your goals; while at the same time you need to show that you can adapt to the plans of others too. If you’re planning something as part of a team, then, just like marriage, it has to be a joint effort. Devoted. But some people just don’t know what is expected of them when others ask them to commit. Friends that let you down for something that you were really looking forward to. And if you’re committed but someone else isn’t, then it’s going to be very difficult to get things moving again. But is it fair when you’ve committed heart and soul to get something done that you’ve planned all by yourself to see that plan collapse all around you; through no fault of your own? But that’s just life. And we have to deal with it.

Stopped by the weather...

So with all the flash flood weather we’ve been having, I’m suddenly realising how much our lives depend on the weather. Sure, with more and more people living inside their pods nowadays, you’d think that we’re not that dependant on the weather anymore; but you’d be wrong. It effects how we dress. It effects how we act. And it affects our future plans. And being British, people love to talk about it, as it’s one of the few things that we just cannot control. We talk about the bad weather that we’ve seen; the forecasts we’ve heard and what we were hoping to do today. That we were hoping for some really nice sunshine so you’ve put on this lovely dress and people look at you as if you’re mad as it’s actually blowing a gale. That wearing hoodies in the brightest daylight isn’t going to make you any friends because you sweat like hell. And that walk you’ve planned on doing will just have to wait another day because you’re trapped from going outside.

Quackers

What do ducks get up to all day? Sure, there’s the obvious stuff that they need to take care to survive during the day, like feeding and grooming themselves; but other than that it must be a pleasant life to just float down the river all day exploring the estuary. They’re natural hunters; and never need to stock up on food by hiding it in nests. Maybe they secretly carry messages up and down stream; or quack them out for fellow ducks to hear. It could be a secret message for a new world order or simply what’s top of the charts in the duck world. But there’s never such a thing as a rushed duck unless there’s bread involved. They’re not particularly hunted apart from the Chinese and pillow stuffers, and I suppose they can prepare themselves fairly well. So I suppose it must be quite content to be a duck. Either that or I’m quackers.

The end of high street browsing

So yesterday I ran into a bit of a dilemma. Father’s Day is approaching (congratulations, you’ve got more responsibilities day); and I arranged a present long ago; it was Lincoln on DVD. Only trouble was that the old man had already seen the film; it was shown on the plane when he went on holiday. So I cancelled the order but was totally at a loss as to what to get him. And then yesterday in W H Smith I was browsing for ideas and it hit me; another film that he hasn’t seen and he’s guaranteed to enjoy. But where can I get a copy? There’s no time for an internet order; and the economy has closed down all the other shops. Luckily I managed to find the film in the supermarket, but it just goes to show that you really do have to sit down and plan these things. Browsing is a thing of the past.

The Waffler

Sometimes all you want to do is sit down and relax. But then you meet the Waffler. As soon as you see him, you just know he’s just going to talk your bollocks off. You know that half the time he’s just being polite because he’s on his own and he’s trying to entertain you. But the stream of talking just won’t stop. There’s an endless stream of where he’s been; what he’s got  at home and that you should arrange a time where he can show you the proof. And as much as you think of trying to get away without rudely interrupting or being impolite; he’s always ready to waffle on with another topic. Oh, I remember that, it was wotisname. You’re stuck. There is absolutely no way out until he is ready to let you go. Your only hope is that someone else rescues you; or you skilfully manage to pass him onto someone else before sneaking away.

Keeping up with tradition

Despite all the doom and gloom of politics, there is one city which still celebrates its new officials with pride. Norwich, one of the oldest cities in England, still celebrates the annual appointment of its new Lord Mayor with a Mayor’s day. This is a fantastic parade where the newly elected Mayor tours its streets in traditional dress to meet the people. Along the way he is accompanied by local societies and musicians; all  with banners and flags to celebrate their nobility. The infamous Norwich dragon, named Snap, also joins in the journey to the town hall. Even though Norwich has evolved from its traditional medieval town; there are still parts of the city which celebrate its historical heritage; and encourages all communities to come together to join in the festivities. It’s great that people celebrate their heritage. It is an event that I would very much like to go and see. 

Footloose

I have a little confession to make. I did something absolutely mad today, right after the gym. Once I arrived at work, I put my bag down, put the kettle on, and started to sort my things out for the day. I opened my rucksack and brought out a left shoe. A little more rummaging and a right shoe was also obtained. But alas; the shoes did not match! With my work shift imminent, I had no choice but to wear the odd shoes for the day. I smirked as I wondered how long it would be before someone spotted my oddity; after all it’s usually noted right away when I wear trainers instead of shoes. But disappointingly, no-one did. Not one comment about my odd pair. And as the joke wore off for the day, my feet began to ache and ache and ache… It felt so good when I could finally change back into trainers at the end of the day…

The experts

A lot of time in life you have to turn to other people for advice on something that you’ve got absolutely no idea about. Whether it’s a plumber, a doctor, or a mechanic; there’s always someone on hand to help you through for the right price. But can you trust them? Are they giving you the real deal? Or are they emptying your pockets in exchange for your opinion? It can be a bit daunting to discover that they’ve had your car for six hours only to take a look at it and change a light bulb and that the rest of the work won’t be finished the same day. But at the same time, if you decide to stand up to these people; how do you know that they’ve done the job well? It would be great if we can each find a friend or relative that knows something in each field, but unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way. 

Bones the Librarian

This guy would make a fantastic librarian. You can just picture him getting up at night; opening his glass case and stepping out to select a book to read for the following day. He’d be cautious at first, making sure that the coast is clear before he decides to turn the page. And one day a young security guard discovers him on him on his first night shift. They’d both be freaked out at first but eventually decide to become friends. Then the security guard finds out that he reads the papers at night; and becomes a bit of an archivist. This becomes an instant hit with the security guard’s pub team, and they reach league fame when they dress him up to join the team. Then the pub’s dog gets a whiff of things and wants a bite of the action. Before he knows it; the secret is out; the world’s first living animated skeleton is out living the dream and becomes a chat show host for the world to see. It’s kind of a British Night at the Museum, and Simon Pegg would be great as the security guard. Found in Norwich Castle.

Make your own past

While visiting Norwich castle in April, I stumbled on an exhibition entitled The Seven Sorrows Of Mary. It sounded like an interesting title to write about at the time; and so I took a coupe of pictures of the plaque. Unfortunately, I didn't take a picture  of the stained glass windows, so there is little hope in finding out what The Seven Sorrows are. So all that is presented is the fact that Christ fled to Egypt and was crucified shortly afterwards. So there is no reference whatsoever to what the sorrows actually are; there is only a reference to how the painting was commissioned and who painted it for whom. So from this enticing title; all we can actually follow is historical evidence of a painter rather than a story, which would have been much more interesting. And who said history is fun? Sometimes it's better to make it up yourself. 

Ask and you shall receive...

I had another strange dream last night which I vaguely remember the ending. So I was having an argument with someone about how something should be done and as I was a superior; I denied the request. I can only think that I was a monk as I was wearing a white dressing gown – perhaps because I’ve been reading the Pillars of the Earth lately. Anyway, my inferior was unhappy with my decision and decided to take it to the next level. He draws back a golden door to reveal a bed, then jumps onto the bed and jumps up onto another bed where God is sleeping. I then think of this as ringing heaven’s doorbell and decide that this must be blasphemy as I’m not sure that’s how it works. But our monk then wakes God up and at least gets an answer; whether it’s the right one I don’t know. So this surely means that if you don’t ask; you’ll never know, but if you do ask then at least you’ll get a response. But in terms of speaking to the Almighty, hmm….reflection?

Think about what you're buying!

I had a lovely couple of ladies in to see me today about their garden fencing. The problem was that we didn’t have any in stock, and there was limited stock from other stores. The problem was that they weren’t entirely sure how many sets they would need. She explained that she was trying to plant a few at a time when she had some time available. I pointed out that the best thing for her to do was to measure up the remaining fencing to determine how many sets she would need. But apparently she’s no good at that and wouldn’t know where to start. Now I’m sorry, but if you’re not going to tell us what you need when things are in short supply; then I can’t give you the best advice. People do need to take some responsibility here; and can’t expect that we can magic things out of the air just because you’re feeling lazy. Think before you buy!

Here's to Harvington...

I quite enjoy looking at grand old buildings, and on a hike I recently visited Harvington Hall. It’s a lovely old building on the outskirts of Kidderminster, with a moat surrounding the hall with a disguised stone bridge. If you like watching ducks and geese, it’s a great place to visit in the Spring to see the hatchlings. The caretaker has gone to great lengths to keep the gardens in shape, though the triangular trees surrounding the footpath look artificial. It must be ripe with historical drawing rooms and secret tunnels inside; possibly leading to the outside quarry where the bricks must have came from. There is also a small church (St. Mary’s) and farm within the grounds. The farm is a bit unfortunate as it blocks the most direct public footpath and walkers have to walk around it to visit the hall. The hall is open to the public but the hours are limited. 

Say cheese...

So last night was cheese club. The idea is simple – you bring some cheese or a deli item to the sharing table; say no more than £3, buy yourself a drink and tuck into the feast on offer. There was absolutely tons of the stuff. There was homemade bread, turkey and ham pie, spring rolls, garlic sausage and at least eight different cheeses. I quite favoured the one that I donated the most; an aged red Leicester cheese from Sainsbury’s. But the strangest thing was that there was not a single cracker to be found on the table. We had Wensleydale, Mexican cheese, stilton and cheddar, but not a single cracker was present. How bizarre. But the oddest thing of the evening was the conversation I had with the landlord telling me how Aldi has some great deals on their deli counter; and  even presented me with a copy of their latest sales brochure. Time to go continental. 

I witnessed a nightmare!

Last night was one of those dark nights where I was actually afraid to shut my eyes. As I lay in my bed dark nightmares came into my head and I knew that they were going to be unpleasant dreams. The strange thing was that I could actually see black blots moving across the ceiling. So did I witness the invasion of a nightmare? I focused hard on the image and I made out a face with a black beard. I considered diving underneath the cover to hide from it, but then I remembered that it can’t physically hurt me. I thought about reading a book to distract my brain but that meant getting up again. So instead I chose to wrap myself up tight and ignore it. Consequently, I had quite a dreamless sleep. But the fact that I spotted a nightmare meant that I was able to divert myself away from a night of worry.