Time to dine

Tonight was a good night to catch up with some friends that I haven’t seen in a while. Usually on a Friday night I just come home, jump straight in the shower then bung a pizza in the oven so that I’m ready for whatever beery adventure that fate decides to dish out to me; whether it’s to jump into a taxi; stretch my legs over to a rendezvous point; or be prepared to catch the next bus or train to wherever the flavour of the evening may be. And as I arrived home I began thinking about maybe having a burger tonight; but realised that there would be no-one to accompany me.  I’m then informed that due to a logistical error; we are in fact out of pizza and that I would have to think of something more complicated to accompany my dinner this night. Fortunately my friends saved the day; as they were in town at just the right time for me to join them for dinner. Result!

Your request is currently being Processes, Sir.

So today I come back from a day off to press on with my work. I know I have to dedicate at least 3 hours of the day to assisting customers. There is a great pile of curtain poles that need tidying and counting from the night before. There are damaged items that need to be sorted through and sent away. My bench is full of paperwork. There are empty boxes and paperwork everywhere that needs filing. And I also know that I'm supposed to have a meeting about my performance today. I have no assistants as they are all needed to focus on customers. I am supposed to spend downtime on updating diaries and have meetings with managers while investigating standards of processes. And somehow I'm supposed to get all this done with less than forty hours a week? I wish people would start listening to us and support our team with more resources to investigate these processes. Right now, I need out.

Silly about Syria?

So the nation is deciding once again whether or not we should go to war. In one way, it’s a good thing. Prior to the conflict on Syria, the Home Office was making thousands of soldiers redundant in an effort to save money. Of course, thousands of people will take to the streets to demonstrate that war is bad, and that soldiers are better off saving kittens and waving flags. But some say that the cost of the war outweighs the benefits in the first place. Why go to war to help another country? The answer is not because we are nice (and are trying to make up for damage from the British Empire). Just like Iraq, it’s all about the oil. And as a country that mainly has to import our energy supplies; let’s hope that we can capture some this time to make petroleum a decent price again and that other costs can come down.

Well, that's just grand!

Today is a monumental occasion in the world of blogging, for I have reached over one thousand views! When I first started out on this blog, it was to be a journey of improvement. And that hasn't changed, with the odd piece of creative writing or food for thought on current events. As well as running this blog I also volunteer for the Campaign for Real Ale, and the odd post will come through about what beers I’ve tried recently and exciting places that I've visited (but not just pubs, as you shall see!). It is quite difficult to maintain a blog; especially when you try to update it every day with a new topic or what happened the day before. When I look at other blogs it’s usually about how many people the missionaries have converted; or what that the Miller family have been doing. I wouldn't mind some regular comments or followers though!

Hanging out with the birds

If there's one animal that I wish that I could have a conversation with; it'd be a bird. Forget the interview with an anteater and what makes a rhinoceros tick; it's the birds that go to the interesting places. All that freedom to go wherever they want without limitation; and with free hotel accomodation too. Birds can nest just about anywhere; whether it's high up in a window outside a castle,  or in next door's bird box where they can keep an eye on where the cat is and nick the home-grown veg when he's not looking. I'd love to hear of the places they've been to; their favourite nesting spots and the cars that they've pooped on. Of course; millions have probably been spent on anti-nesting devices such as nets, spikes and poisons just to try and keep these birds out of public areas. But until we stop leaving every last morsel of food for them; they'll always find a way to survive and get up to mischief.

Welcome to the Seven Stars!

Welcome, whoever you are! I'm pleased to report that one of my favourite pubs is back. The Seven Stars in Headless Cross has finally re-opened its doors after nearly six months of closure. The news got around fast, as nearly all of the ex-locals came in with a smile on their face to celebrate (including the previous landlady, who was forced out because of high rent increases from the pub company). The Seven Stars is a proper community pub. It doesn't sell food; it rarely has entertainment but it does has great banter; it’s a true and friendly community locals pub. We've been drinking there most Sundays ever since we became of legal drinking age.  We now hope that we can persuade the pub company that the pub is financially viable so that they will find someone to take on the lease permanently; and not just have someone in  who owes the pub company a favour. Please show your support for the Stars!

Beers in Bewdley

So yesterday we decided to have a little beer adventure to the town of Bewdley. I've been there before but usually had to drive so I was only allowed the odd half. So yesterday was to be the epic adventure. Because we decided that we'd probably miss the last bus back to Kidderminster; we decided to venture out by train; it would be cheaper and we would only lose 20 minutes. So after heading into Birmingham and back out into the shire, there was time for a very swift half at the Swan in Kidderminster before jumping onto our last bus. After nearly three hours of travelling; we had arrived! And what an arrival it was. We had to shell out £6 for entry which included a paper programme and a glass from a surly old woman. The whole bar seemed to be ran by just the one person; and there was no atmosphere at all. Once we'd we fulfilled our beer ticker fetish, we decided to move onto Bewdley's selection of pubs. First stop was St. George's Hotel for Wetherspoons, but the pub was extremely busy serving meals so we pressed onto the Little Packhorse. This was a fantastic little boozer that served meals as well as being a local boozer. There were lots of novelty mementos for days gone by as well as a collection of articles from other pubs. And a very attractive bar lady too. From there we ventured to the Woodcolliers where an overworked landlord struggled to serve us with a smile but we still had a decent beer.

Then over to the Mug House where a selection of the usual awaited us, but there was a great view over the river Severn. A trek back to the bus stop was our next venture in order to call in the Waggon & Horses; unfortunately our planned bus failed to materialise. A quick jump onto the next one got us moving again but this meant that we only had 5 minutes to enjoy our Batham’s before awaiting our final bus back to Kidderminster.

Hunting for a theme

Many people say they’re not theme park people. They say that the idea of standing in line for an hour just to be hurtled round the universe at break-neck speeds doesn't appeal to them. And to them I say; go when it’s quieter. There are times of the year when you can go on a weekday while most people are at work or school and practically not have to queue at all. It’s cheaper too. A friend of mine recently confessed that he wasn't a theme park person and; after dragging him to his local roller coaster centre; he absolutely loved it. We could not get him off the pirate ship and we must have ridden it four or five times in the last half hour. Meanwhile, I prefer the larger coasters, but only if I can get a comfortable ride. Going upside down is great fun; but being shaken like a jack in a box at over seventy miles per hour is not.

Bottom of the Peaks

I've always heard people talk about the hidden gem of the Peak District. Even though there are no monumental mountains to climb; it’s always portrayed as a beautiful place to visit and there is lots to do; alongside great countryside pubs as well. A friend and I decided to pop up the road for a snifter and it didn’t disappoint. Although it was much further up the road than we anticipated; as once as crossed the border into the National Park; we were surrounded by mountains, hills and fields. We started our adventure at Ilam Park, a National Trust site in the South Peaks. This Victorian manor was once a hotel but is now a visitor centre to explore the area. The village of Ilam is small and picturesque, with a large river running alongside the village. From here you can do many walks such as exploring the Doverdale stepping stones or climb up Thorpe hill. We relaxed by the river for a while and mingled with the local wildlife before pushing onto Buxton, a small town with a cavern of caves to visit. It’s well worth a look just to learn the difference between stalagmite and stalactites  (stalagmite has an M in it!).

Let's go do the Hop

On a Great British Summer Saturday, we ventured out into the great outdoors to learn about one of our nation’s greatest plants; the humble Worcestershire hop. Hops are an essential ingredient for beer as they contain much of the flavour need to release floral and citrusy aftertastes in our favourite pints. Just outside Knightwick lies the hamlet of Sudbury, a small farm with a plantation of over one hundred acres of hop vines. More than half of England’s hops are grown in the West Midlands, which typically go on to produce around 50 million pints annually. The hops are typically harvested in late August/early September, and go onto brewers such as Endeavour, Golden Sovereign and Endeavour and grown here, which go on to Fullers, Marstons, St. Austell and Wye Valley, as well as a variety of hop merchants. The hops are typically removed from the hop vines from a large tractor-like vehicle called Bruff. They’re then dried to remove any excess moisture before being baled and ready for shipping to the brewers. So next time you’re raising a glass, spare a thought for the Great British Hop.

Talk about a slow start!

So today was a failed mission to get to Swindon. It was the grand day to examine my performance diary to see how I am progressing in my role. After failing to finish it last night, I tried again this morning in place of going swimming. After a bit of inspiration from a cup of tea. things did start to move but so did the clock. My new plan was hit the road and grab some gas; then full speed ahead to Swindon to visit the McDonalds next door with another attempt of finishing the darn thing. A sneaky shortcut saw me filling up on time and I managed to hit the motorway only a minute behind schedule; but then heavy traffic came about just before Ross on Wye. After a bit of wheel dodging it looked like I would have fifteen minutes to grab a coffee and a bagel. But despite this my fourth trip to Swindon, I always seem to find a new road to explore just outside the city. Luckily this one was only a couple of miles out  but it still ate up time. Then upon arrival in the city I found that my usual car park was closed and and drive round the block to find another one. Luckily, this one was a third cheaper and I could pay by phone providing that I knew where I was. After playing hunt the thimble on the Internet I did indeed discover where I was and managed to park my car electronically; however this meant I only had ten minutes before the meeting actually started which actually meant no breakie at all. The solution: start doing things earlier!!!

It's a fair cop Guv

So we have two British girls in the news for trying to smuggle over 1 million pounds of cocaine  into Peru. Somehow they thought that our Persian friends wouldn't be able to tell the difference between illegal drugs and packets of instant soup. I suppose that, geographically; Peru is hot; ergo they don't drink soup; ergo they wouldn't think twice about someone else importing packeted foods. But of course the towelheads saw right through their reasoning and asked why you would need this amount of soup anyway. Naturally everyone thinks this is outrageous as they were only nineteen years old and were supposed to be having a holiday in Spain. The Beeb has taken a wretched photograph of them standing in the lobby of an airport, and even interviewed a former smuggler to imply that they may not be guilty through peer pressure. But why do these stories get so much hype in the news? Yes, they have been bad. Yes, they are in trouble. But do we really need to know who thinks they're innocent and who does not? We know they're guilty for not having a backbone for saying no in the first place or confessing to customs as soon as they get off the plane. So there's obviously something in it for them for keeping mum rather than to help the customs folk catch gangs like these. So lock em up and be done with them. 

Is is music or karoke?

So yesterday I headed down to the local park as our council was putting on a free music festival. There was a stage with regular performances and local bands from around the town. There were some great people singing their souls out with their own songs about what they see in the world. I particularly liked the 15 year old boy on an acoustic guitar singing about getting wasted and boycotting the media. Some did their own covers which was fine as they did their own stuff in the same set as well. But what put me off the most about the set was the fact that people thought they could sing along to a backing track when they couldn’t. We had a whole adult choir that waded and wailed along in the background to another singer. We had a group of kids who we had to appreciate because they were cute; even though it wasn’t clear who was doing what. And there was a 17 year old girl who thought this was Glastonbury and tried to get everyone moving to songs she sung off the radio. So kudos to the ones that tried and made their own material, but to the singers; please go back to the X Factor. 

Dreaming of next door

A strange but interesting dream last night. I haven't had a dream for some time.  My neighbours living in the next road had decided to open their gardens for a local walkabout; where visitors wander around their property looking at displays and plants to raise money for charity. As I only lived round the corner I knew the people and had seen it all before; therefore my role in these shenanigans was to be tipsy. I didn't go in the houses as I knew all the people; even though some  of my friends from Bromsgrove did. Instead I organised a very large conga line going from pub to pub while taking in their front gardens. At one time we stopped to encourage people to throw bags of sweets at us; though we did throw some of them back. So what does this dream actually mean? Perhaps it's saying that I'm messing about too much and need to press on with other areas of my life. Perhaps I'm in this state because I'm not in a house of my own. Or perhaps it's because last time I did anything with the neighbours I was the sober one. So this time maybe I'll have to wake up and apologise for my antics. Only in reality I won't because oddly, I wasn't even in the pub or even on the sauce last night. So they'll just have to wait until my next dream. 

No frowns at The Crown

Last night I visited the Crown Inn beer festival in Alvechurch. It was a fantastic night out and a brilliant atmosphere. Lots of people were trying real ale and cider; and the staff were very friendly indeed. They even recognised me from last year (hope I wasn't too tipsy then)! Although it was a cloudy night, it wasn't too cold and the moon was out to provide the lighting.  There was a great range of ales and the entertainment was a guy from Bromsgrove on an acoustic guitar who churned out some amazing tunes without drowning out the crowd. Although I started on the weak beers, I quickly worked my way up to the 6.4% Monkey IPA from Artbrew; as I wanted to try the ones that I hadn't tried before first.  My favourite beer was the Hunny Bear from the Cannon Royall Brewery. The only downside was that there was a huge ice bucket alongside the real ciders. We all know that ice is lethal; that's what sunk the titanic. It was a great little festival in a pub car park.  

A battle with the local sheriff

Getting a bit peeved with local restrictions on what I can and can't do. When I can use the bathroom, how much time I'm allowed in the bathroom; what I have to eat, how much room I have for things and what I can watch. I need the bathroom first thing in the morning and someone is there. I come down to make my breakfast and someone is there; I have to move around them and they fuss if I try to make them move. Then there's restrictions on what I can watch and when; and where I can find my things (so long as they're not broken). The obvious solution is to move out; but then I would need a greater income to afford my own lifestyle. And finding a new job is very difficult when you haven't got the time to look for it. So it's back battling with my old enemy; Time Management. 

Every minute counts

Time. It’s something that we have no control over. Even when you think a small job will only take ten minutes; it will be sure to take you fifteen. I had a new clock in my room last year; and to try to make myself ready for events and to add a little breathing space; I put it forward by six minutes so that that I could keep ahead of my schedule.  Yesterday, I mildly realised that it could be as close as only two minutes in front. Last night I found out that it was actually behind by about five minutes. And this morning I completely forgot and thought I was right on time. However, tonight I discovered I was behind by a whole twenty –five minutes. Luckily, I didn’t need to be anywhere. But our perception of time is poor. All the philosophers advise us not to waste it, not to rely on it; but to make every minute count. Otherwise you will be constantly adjusting that dial.

What the Holy have achieved

Despite people arguing religion and God and whether one exists; no-one can doubt the amount of effort that goes into building a cathedral. These monumental structures reach into the sky as a sign of devotion to the commitment of their faith. Inside, there’s plenty of history to see; whether it’s the tomb of families gone by; or the shrine of a saint; however artificial or plastic the refurbishment has become. The architecture inside is a document of the faith of the people and what Christianity means for them. Beneath the arches and corridors are the archives of the people and what they have done for the local community, whether they were a builder, doctor, clergyman or soldier. For me, it’s a sense of achievement as to what people can achieve. If man can build such a beautiful building with tools from over five hundred years ago; just think what else we can do today.

The Beeb haven't cracked it at all.

So the BBC has launched a new exciting TV show called Crack The Safe or something to that effect. It’s hosted by some permed personality who usually does crappy television programmes about how people should redecorate (badly) their home. So I came home from work; I was tired, I’d had my tea and watched the last fifteen minutes. And at first it actually seemed interesting; the contestants had to guess when the opportunity was to open the safe; and also at the same time. They had a four second window of opportunity to open four locks; and had to press their buttons at the appropriate moment.  And then the results were in. Each contestant had to wait to see what the other had done at what time. And oddly, rather than actually telling us who had pressed their button when; someone had decided to review each second of opportunity to tell us if they had did it or not. Each agonising result was emphasised by a long beep which dropped its octaves by a chorus of ’Ohhh’ from the audience. Honestly, I think I would rather watch a football commentator discussing wet paint. 

King of the Castle

I've always admired the traditional castle, those great monoliths which are designed to keep out invaders (mostly the French). Whether it's an old fort with ruins or a heritage site which preserves a perfect monument; there's always something great about what man has achieved to accomplish such a structure. Giant keeps with huge dungeons to lock up their enemies and torture them in the darkest day. Passageways and towers to protect the finer occupants of the castle. And a great view all round; whether it's to admire the peasants of the land or to scout out a prospective invading army. And the best part of all is that they're now open for everyone to admire. I would quite like a coffee table book full of castles so that I can tick them off as I visit them. 

Rest in peace Mr. Crab

It's amazing what gets washed up alongside the beach. Seaweed. Crabs. Bits of boats. It makes you think where it all comes from. How it came to be from the pinnacle of life to being rubbish on the beach. Sometimes (if you're very lucky) you'll find a message in a bottle that tells you. But usually it's left to the imagination. I like to think that Mr. Crab had a good innings swimming in the sea and playing at fencing with other crabs; possibly cheered on by a crowd full of oysters and starfish in a gladiatorial arena. Perhaps this crab was  valiantly defeated. Perhaps he upgraded his armour and cast his old shell out. Or maybe he's had a happy time exploring beaches of the world; ogling beach babes; ruining their game of beach volleyball with his claws and hitching rides with dolphins. Or is that lobsters? Must find out what the difference is. But for now, rest in peace Mr. Crab. 

Up and over

And so, despite being the top dog on local decisions; someone has yet again decided to go over my head. I only filled this person in as a matter of courtesy as they have raised the matter. I did my part in escalating the matter; and, though I didn’t achieve the outcome that we wanted; I was able to arrange an approach that we should take up regarding our position. However, despite agreeing with this action; this was apparently not good enough; and that someone has gone further into escalating the matter with the opponent. So why ask me to get involved in the first place? Clearly I’m just a middleman here who has no power and is only required to fulfil a role as a human shield. And each attack around the shield means that it will just crumble away. But with the shields down, the bigwigs have no-one to hide behind in the first place.

My inner compass is solar powered.

So tonight I had to do something I wasn't supposed to do in order to fulfil obligations. It involved a long trip halfway across the county; and the conditions weren't great given the weather. There was even a thunder and lightning storm along the way. It was good going leaving the first stop but as it was dark; my route was somehow mixed up along the way. After a circular detour I successfully arrived at the second stop; and the event was in full swing. The people there were a lot more friendly; but leave them I had to. And a hard leave it was. Once I had successfully navigated my way through the passage I was yet again in the dark. Following my instincts; I attempted to go back the way I came; but came out on a completely different path. When dark sets in; my inner compass just switches off. Must be solar powered. 

Laughing in the USA

I sometimes find these American TV comedies very annoying; especially when they venture out of the sitcom and have personal arguments with each other. Take Everybody Loves Raymond. Are they really that whiny? What is so funny about them arguing all the time about events that we don’t actually witness? It’s all to do with self-centred people that blow their personal ideals out of proportion and aren’t prepared to share with each other.  And how about Will & Grace? What’s so funny about a highly strung gay man with an extra camp friend and a high-pitched millionaire with an extra annoying voice? I never get the actual plot with this show; they seem to just laze around until an event turns up and don’t actually do anything in the meantime except make jokes about sexuality. Are these people that lazy and that stupid and stubborn that they can’t work it out? 

From our business to yours

If you had an opportunity to promote your business for free; would you take it? No strings attached; the promoters would even buy your products; and your name gets out there in the public domain together with a sample of your goods to try? Sounds like a dream. And yet there are people out there that blatantly ignore this opportunity despite complaining about previous opportunities. And when the promoters try to respond to the complaint and fix the opportunity to lessen the damage; the business doesn’t show up. Sure; it’s a funny way to do business but surely the business knows best what with them making the profit for themselves. So the promoters now decide to ignore the business. They’re no longer prepared to promote the business and buy their goods from them. And should the business want to use the promoters again; it’s now up to the business to repair the bridge. Can you blame them?