Pack your bags...

One of the most common problems that we have while moving your worldly goods around is how they are packed. Often, these items are shipped from the other side of the world; then sailed across the oceans for your convenience (assuming all is calm at sea). They are then stored in a warehouse until someone decides to send them out to a shop or a distribution van; where they get crammed in with lots of other items along the way. I spent ten minutes this morning cursing a tool manufacturer who had decided to place their goods on display in the most awkward manner in prominent packaging. Why does the box have to be so narrow? Honestly, if you just put one box back to back to the other; it would have made it a lot easier than having two long plastic case monstrosities that fell out of the box as soon as it was tilted at a different angle and refused to slide back in again. Eventually I had to take all the packaging cardboard out and tape the box shut. So the happy customer will instantly see that someone's already opened it and will demand another one to remove any doubt of parts being missing. Pack your boxes properly please people!

Crawling up the Ale Trail Charts

Yesterday an old friend and I decided to go on a bit of an ale trail. We did a similar thing last year where we traveled to an area that we don’t normally visit and check out the local pubs. We both take part in the Cask Marque trail; where you scan a certificate in the pub to record your visits and accumulate prizes. We started in Birmingham at a Wetherspoons while discussing which pubs to visit. The problem we had was that we both had different pubs that we’d visited before; which would be a bit of a nuisance as only one of us would be collecting scans at each visit. Eventually, we agreed that we both pass through Birmingham at different times doing different things and could sort these pub visits out in our own time. So in the end we opted to board a bus to Harborne, which is an area that we don’t normally visit but has a crawl of seven pubs that we could add to our collection. The best bit is that I’ve just discovered their Hall of Fame; where I currently sit 396^th out of over 1,200 competitors and I’m to climb the chart after yesterday’s adventure when they next update the website. 

A bite at Bitcoin.

Walter Issacson, the CEO of Aspen Institute, believes that the big thing of 2015 will be the introduction of digital currency such as bitcoin. Okay, so bitcoin may be securer and encrypted; but at the end of the day it’s just another currency. And for the consumer, you don’t know if the goods that you’re buying are coming from the fat sweaty bloke next door or a towel-headed chap in the Middle East with an AK-47. Most people like to know where our consumer goods are coming from; who we’re supporting and the ethics of their company. All of this is coming from a foundation which is dedicated to leadership and reflection of the ideals of a good society. And if the definition of a good society is that we should all stay at home hiding behind our computer keyboards wondering if the dream catcher we’ve just ordered is going to help fund international terrorism; then it is a very sour society indeed.

Escape from Peterborough

I've just had a narrow escape from Peterborough. I'm not even certain as to where on the planet it is. I have a. Stud idea of where it is on the map; but whether it's in the East Midlands or East Anglia I couldn't tell you. Anyway, the pub I was in was brilliant. The beer was great. The food was just right for a lunchtime meal. And the bar staff just about scrapped a pass (which is difficult I know). It all started when my other party members made their various excuses and left me to my own devising. I had an hour to kill before my departing train. The first pub I visited was screening people who were entering because of a football match with Doncaster Rovers the day before; which still  had some side effects; apparently they thought that some local fans were still in the area. Strangely enough; I was let in without question without having to utter a word or action; despite a large group before me having to present ID beforehand. Perhaps I didn't look northern enough; after all to them I was technically a Westerner. However; with the possibility of another pub calling before my train; I decided to visit a more local venue to try the Locale beers. At the Ostrich;  the range was very pleasing; but the  clientele was not. No sooner than I had been served; I was approached by a Scotsman.  Now I usually have no quarrel with the Scots other than trying to understand them; and themselves being a loud folk. Finding one in this part of the country was particularly surprising; but after experiencing them before in England at this time of year; I naturally assumed it was part of the annual Scottish migration; where they head south to stay warm and visit what other relatives they have in this fair isle. This particular fellow was born in Ayrshire; but lived in Lancashire. He then tells me he's been homeless for a while. This is of little comfort to a fellow traveller; fortunately he finished his own drink and ordered and paid for another before finishing mine. So that was the perfect opportunity for me to escape without obligation; and after wishing him a happy Hogmanay; stepped out into the street. After five minutes I'm accosted with an appeal for money to get someone to Wellingborough; but; not being local I haven't  a clue as to where this is or even if it exists. I still have no notion of what Peterborough stands for; but after being left on my own I can tell you it's not a good place to be alone.

Famous Fred

 More seasonal tosh I'm afraid. One early Saturday morning I put the telly on for something to watch while munching on my morning Shreddies. In line with the holiday season; instead of the usual American comedy repeats; there was an animation entitled Famous Fred. Right from the start; I could see that it was a waste of time. Every single character was obsessively obese; from the fat father right down to the family pet  guniea pig. The two siblings had a major compulsive attention disorder and kept interrupting the plot line; which wasn't overly developed at all. Apparently Famous Fred was an overnight pop star who sang in back gardens and alleyways; all for the amusement of his feline fans; who had come to the twin's back garden to mourn his death (diabetes). There seemed to be no morale for this story other than children should be fat and annoying. The only recognisable celebrity featured in this misadventure was Lenny Henry who voiced the guniea pig (albeit with a northern accent). Hopefully it won't make any prime time viewing spots in the near future.

The Boy Who Wore A Dress

 On Boxing Day I was trying to decide what to do with myself and, while I should have really been working and getting things up to date; I decided to stay within the holiday spirit and watch a bit of telly. From the onset; the title just sounds wrong; and the fact that it's been made into a children's prime time viewing slot just makes it wronger still; and I was right. But I did give it a chance. It's by David Walliams; who; besides being gay and dressing up in women's clothing; has also published a series of children's books. With a prime show such as this; I would expect some sort of morale to the story; especially as it was devised by a leading celebrity author. But no. Instead it was about an attention seeking boy who decided to delve into transvestism simply because his mother had ran away from home. I'm not a stickler for the rules; in fact I'm often far from it. But to call in a far-fetched plot to say it's OK to parade in a dress isn't much out of the question of becoming a transvestite. Which, to be honest; isn't a great role models to shout out to the kids during prime time viewing.

Did Santa Bring You Everything You Asked For?

In most cases, I suspect the answer is no. Each year before Christmas, I am always asked to write a Christmas Wish list. Thankfully I no longer have to write it in the style of a letter to Santa. And every year; when I receive a request to produce such a list; I always reply, ‘Whatever happened to that list you made me write for my birthday?’ Surely there are still some items on that. And these are fairly simple materialistic items; I’m not wishing for a sports car or world peace here (which, by the way, always seems to be out of stock). But it’s annoying things like these that make you think that actually, you have no interest in my goals and pursuits and is even quite tactless of you to ask me to create this list in order to fulfil a holiday consumer tax that falls upon us every year. And now that the holiday moment is over, the list is gone; my goals are gone and I can’t even remember what to buy with those pesky vouchers.

Anyway, A Very Merry Christmas to You.

Happy Pistmas

It’s been a long standing tradition with friends that on Christmas Eve we meet up for drinks and stay up all night to drink in Christmas Day. As soon as it becomes midnight we’re tearing off the paper wrapped gifts that we so neatly executed only hours before. Yet this year, we all had other priorities. The novelty of the event had worn off. Which was strange as I had no other commitments the following day other than to roll out of bed with a hangover into a pile of presents; then lounge around until the pub opened for pre-Christmas dinner drinks. One friend was just ill; one was just tired and the other was committed to attend them as they were sharing a taxi back home. This prompted me to dispatch my final friend as well owing to the fact that he had a friend who was to collect him and would appreciate an early night. Next year we need to make it more of an occasion, and for that to happen we really need to make something happen to truly celebrate the year. Anyway, Happy Christmas.

Shouldn't have said that...

I have a habit of saying the wrong thing, even if I’m only telling the truth. It sometimes makes me appear a bit tactless. Yesterday I was tasked with taking some presents over to my Uncle’s house; something that my brother had forgotten to do. It was a fairly dark evening but early, and I was on my way home from work after a twelve hour shift; and after finding the house and finding the best place to park I was begging that they wouldn't be in. But unfortunately they were; so instead of leaving the presents on the doorstep I was obliged to ring the bell and got invited in. So I chatted for a bit about work; asked how my cousins were and discussed how we were each spending Christmas. And then came the lull. We tried to fill it with football news as it was on the telly at the time but I’m not a big football fan, so that didn't last very long. So, having done the deed I pleaded my long work shift and announced my plans to depart. Then right at the doorstep I mentioned that my brother was supposed to do this task but forgot, so he had my pleasure instead. Of course my uncle was very polite and just wished me a happy Christmas; but anyone who properly listened to this conversation would now realise my opinions on the task; but I only realised what was said when I returned to the car with a guilty conscience. However, if I had been offered a cup of tea, it might have been a whole different story…

Tickets Please...

One of the most strangest things that I've found while travelling on rural train journeys is the humble policy of the ticket. You arrive at the station ten minutes before the train is due only to find that the ticket office is closed. You queue to use one of the self-service machines; only to find that the group in front of you aren't aware of the quantity option and have to wait while they process four separate transactions. You then have to decide whether there's time to get your ticket or jump on the train and complain about the self-service machines; to which they just indifferent sell you a ticket anyway; and that's if they can be bothered to turn up at all. But if you're not at the starting station then you can just literally just turn up at any station at all; and as long as you look embedded into your seat you can simply walk past the exit gate without anyone doubting you as to not paying the fare at all.

That Dumb Waiter

I've just been reading about the restoration of a pub in Essex. While I applaud their efforts to restore the pub; (What's Brewing; Jan 2015); I was also curious to read of their installation of 'a dumb waiter'. Why would such a pub choose to host a waiter similar to the capabilities of Manuel from Faulty Towers? Did the owners of the pub subscribe to an amateur dramatics society? After I goggled the term it turns  out that a dumb waiter is a form of elevator used for food; but why the writer assumes that the common reader is aware of this is unknown. Perhaps I should visit the pub to inspect the dumb waiter; expecting him to throw a plateful of drinks on my lap or bring me cabbage cheese instead of cauliflower. The rest of the article relates to the pub's features; but I shall now visit expecting a moustached Spaniard playing a guitar singing Kum by Ah in between burning down the kitchen.

Station Announcement...

I sometimes wonder about the common sense of train announcements. Sure; mistakes happen owing to human error and the like. But when you're waiting for a train that has been delayed; it would be great if at least they could display where it is going to when it arrives. I nearly got caught out. Sometimes the arrival boards are so up to date that they don't take into account that the train has been delayed and assumes that it has already departed. Other boards don't say anything at all other than this display is not working properly; which is another way of saying we have no idea if a train is due to turn up at all. And then there are the announcements. When they announce that the train is approaching; they mean that the train has just left the previous station.  When they announce that the train is here; you need to start looking for the blind folk who have started to poke their cane about to try and find the non-existent train. And when they announce a platform alteration; you need to make sure you have your best running shoes on in order to catch that train.

Choo Choo Choo

Travelling on the train often holds a great sense of mystery. Sure, it holds a great value to the economy in the fact that it brings together as many people as possible to herd them all to one destination. But many train stations are way out of town compared to their desired location. Some may see it as a cheap or convenient form or transportation; personally I see that only when it is quiet. Who wants to be rammed on a platform awaiting a huge queue for the door in order to obtain that precious seat? Surely if more platforms were built; we could be a bit more civilised about this? On one side we exit the train, the when these doors close the opposite doors open which allow people to board the train. It may sound longer; but in practice the boarding time is probably the same. In fact, the same system is already in operation on theme park roller coasters.

The Visitor

It’s absolutely fantastic to introduce someone you know to a city that they know very little about to somewhere that you know very well. It just goes to show that the day to day things that you see for granted are instantly admired when they are in awe of your local facilities. I recently showed a friend around the Birmingham German Market and; while I know that a lot of the stalls get repetitive over time and are quite overpriced; my friend’s appreciation of it made it all the more enjoyable as it was significantly larger than the one in his home town. We both enjoyed the free samples of Stollen and stocked up for our friends and families. We were both in awe of the street performers and their props. We both took the opportunity to try something new and visit places that we wouldn’t normally discover off the beaten track. So hosting a visitor is a worthwhile experience.

Catch-up for a catch-up

I’ve had an old college friend come to visit me today for a catch-up. It’s been a long day as I still had a work shift to complete and I was asked to start earlier than usual to account for the Christmas period. We still have an imminent health and safety inspection which I need to prepare for as I won’t be available for the day of the visit. So I then have to change the daily rota plan to get this complete; all the while the staff are complaining because it means that they can’t stand around while it’s quiet. And while I’m on the floor preparing and filing the paperwork; in walks our area manager who naturally wants to know what is going on. After yet more overtime and trying to understand my admin co-ordinator’s filing system; I give up and explain to her what has been done. Then I give up on everything and head out the door.

I'm doing it my way

Once again, the day job is getting in the way of things. As we reach our busiest season, my request for help has been completely ignored. Right in the middle is a health and safety inspection which I have to prepare the paperwork for. I have a team of people who are determined to do things their way while not following guidelines, including my manager; who admits that my role is not what he expected either. We have all been put under a secret agenda in a cost-cutting exercise in order to make cheaper deliveries within the company. I’m fed up of people going behind my back and not sharing information which should be included as part of a team. I seriously need to find time to press on. And in the meantime; I’m not prepared to put any extra effort in. I’m just going to turn up for the hours and pay check then disappear.

Christmas Party Chaos

For some strange reason, it was all down to me to organise our Christmas party. The guy who’s hardly in the workplace; doesn’t get introduced to any new colleagues or invited out to any staff socials. It was hard enough to try and work out who was going, who was paying and to get the money off everyone on time. Then add a twist by taking along a group of immature people who’ve never experienced foreign cuisine before and an unsympathetic hostess who doesn’t recognise that people want to relax and have a good time. It’s then a task to keep everyone happy and calm while waiting for their food and explaining what’s going on; while also trying to determine why the plan has changed. For some reason people get very paranoid  when they take insults, and we got a stern telling-off for extinguishing candles. I won’t be organising another one for this crowd.

Rambling about RambAles

Just lately I’ve been writing offline on another project, and it’s nearly complete. Within the beer club that I volunteer for, I also run a series of pub walks where we find a group of rural pubs and walk round them all using a series of country footpaths. It’s a ramble and we drink ale; so we call it… RambAle! The content wasn’t particularly creative to write as most of it was just giving clear and concise directions; it was more of a labour process. Over the next few weeks I’m going to try and add some creative content to make it interesting; though I don’t really want to give the reader a history lesson and distract them from the purpose of the article. I’m in the process of uploading the content, and you can check it out at www.rbcamra.org.uk. I still need to write a longer article for general publication to a wider audience; this may be published in a national magazine.

Railway Rouges

Last night I made a resolution to go to the pub more. So I started by visiting the Railway in Studley; mainly to get rid of my last batch of the Worcestershire Pint Taken magazine. I arrived just before seven, which I thought would be a fairly quiet time as the drinking crowds would still be at home tanking themselves up for their big night. I ordered a pint and duly distributed the magazines then the question was where to park myself. There was a large screen TV showing a match, and all of the nearby tables were full apart from the one underneath it. So I decided to prop up the bar with the intention of chatting up one of the lovely barmaids. Unfortunately, this stood directly in the way of some locals who wanted the best of both worlds. My only option was therefore was to retire to a corner on my own, until a bunch of chavs decided to sit at the adjacent table to order a meal. Not a great place to visit if you’re new in town.  

Time out (a new start)

Last night I attended a masquerade ball as part of an old school friend’s wedding. It was a bit of a fiasco as I didn’t arrange to get the time off work. So my first black mark was for arriving fashionably late. I also failed to obtain a mask; having dashed into the local bargain shop only that morning to find that most of their Halloween props were off the shelves as it was the last day and everything was going out of fashion. I still had no gift but decided to make the journey to work to save time and shop there; only a traffic jam put paid to my plans to wander into town. Instead I dashed into the superstore where crying kids were tearing things off the shelves in amongst zombies stacking shelves and inflatable giant pumpkins. I then chose a bottle of champagne only to find it was overly priced at the checkout; but I didn’t have time to complain and forgot what the proper price should be. I really need to find more time for these things.  

The Soggy Seven (Part 2)

Having broken the RambAle’s sunshine satisfaction guarantee, our next pub was just a stone’s throw away at the other end of the village The Victoria Inn is a Vintage Inns pub with three beers available, including Adnams Mosaic and Great Yorkshire Top of the Hops, a golden ale brewed with a record-breaking 2014 varieties of UK hops. After enjoying this complex flavoured beer, it was time to carry on with some hopping of our own.

We continued south out of Barnt Green village then followed a footpath by the Scout hut up to Coopers Hill, which offers fantastic views of the surrounding area. A handy footbridge took us over the M42, then after following the road ahead there was a steady descent into Withybed Green, and into the Crown.

The Soggy Seven (Part 1)

Seven brave walkers met on a fresh spring Sunday morning to brave the elements and to take on the seventh Redditch and Bromsgrove CAMRA RambAle! Even though it was March, the sun was out shining over the Worcester & Birmingham Canal.

As we started our cruise at a steady 3mph, we weren’t the only ones out that morning. The Hopwood Heron was up and hunting and we spotted him several times circling the canal looking for something to eat. As we approached Bridge 66 it was time to change our route and headed west to our first pub. After passing over Lower Bittell Reservoir we followed a footpath over farmland to reach the Barnt Green Inn, our first port of call. This large merchant house has an excellent patio area, where we all enjoyed Purity UBU, while Wye Valley HPA was also available.

 Our next bearing was south-east; where we climbed Cherry Hill Drive towards the start of the Lickey Hills then followed a footpath down to Barnt Green rail station. It was about this time that the heavens opened and gave us all a good drenching; but fortunately an eagle-eyed member spotted a nice shiny cask in a gazebo in Barnt Green Park. Upon further investigation, it was a local fun run to raise money for Sports Relief; so we did our bit for charity by sampling the Weatheroak Hill IPA on offer while making full use of their shelter!

Down the Vic

My last visit on my tour of top pubs of Warwickshire was to the Victoria in Rugby. This is a traditional cosy drinker’s pub that has something for everyone. There’s an adjacent pool room for those in need, while the main bar has a choice of ten hand pumps to choose from. There’s also a selection of bottled Belgium beers on request. The seats are plush and cosy; while the décor is in excellent condition with original printed windows and a large selection of books. There’s even a snug for private conversations and an extra room for meetings. What did let the pub down was the presence of a gigantic TV in the corner; meaning that if any sport is shown then the whole corner is pretty much out of action. The other thing to watch out for is the barmaid. Although very friendly; it’s double price for a half pint. While it’s a genuine mistake; it still affects the service, which is a terrible shame. Still, the Wold Top and the Tring beers that I sampled were in excellent condition. Well worth a visit.

Royal Oak, Kenilworth

The royal oak is a quietly kept secret in Kenilworth. It's nestled not by the castle or near the high street but in a side road heading out of town. The outside gives the impression of a trad pub gone modern; with posters and banners outside promoting live sport and lager. But inside it's an old fashioned room that's between the borderline of old and rundown. The landlord is a young and welcoming chap but disappears as soon as he's had my money; only reappearing when his loyal locals arrive. It's a shame there's no history to promote this pub; the five pumps circling the small bar seemed to be the only attraction for me. At least there's some comfy sofas to relax on while I watch the adverts in between the cricket and rugby. Hopefully his upcoming beer festival will enable him to engage with younger and unfamiliar customers. It's the basis of being a good landlord. 

Kenilworth Castle

Today I took a trip to Kenilworth Castle; having only recently learned of its existence through a radio advertisement. It turns out that it’s the biggest castle in the West Midlands, and I managed to spend a good couple of hours investigating today. The only thing that puts me off with these sort of places lately is the pressure that the staff put on you to become an English Heritage member. All the literature is heaped upon you as you enter and you then have to drag it round with you while you explore the castle; then they don’t even ask you for a decision on the way back out! The castle is very nice to visit; even though they’re still building it (one of the towers is undergoing refurbishment). You can get some great views around the castle but if you’re looking for scenic countryside, you’re better off going to the lake just up the hill.

Down at the Vic

A good atmosphere at last night's pub quiz at the Victoria Works in Studley. The beer was in excellent condition; and I just about survived the hot chilli pork scratchings. As it was the bank holiday there was a popular turnout for the quiz; although we arrived early the tables were for massive groups and it didn't seem right to sit at those just for a group of three. So we sat around the corner but could still hear the action; though the questions were fairly tough and we only got a quarter of the questions in the general knowledge round. Still, we did very well in the pictures; and did very well with the bonus question. We even managed to beat two teams. But we had some very strange taxi drivers about that evening. The first one needed directions to where we were going despite managing to find us OK and also having driven us there a month ago. He arrived very quickly but apparently forgot to collect someone from a previous booking. The driver coming back seemed desperate for us to leave despite telling us he was quite quiet with bookings that evening. Very strange. 

Olympus has Fallen

Last night I finally got around to watching Olympus Has Fallen starring Gerrard Butler and Aaron Eckhart. I was hoping for the “Die Hard meets the White House” treatment as promised; but overall I was very disappointed with the plot holes of the film. It started off nicely with the death of the First Lady, which I thought would probably create some friction later on in the film; but that turned out not to have happened. I really enjoyed the Gatling guns on the plane; and thought that this assault needed to be a lot longer. But the main disappointment was the fact that the terrorists managed to get hold of the launch codes! Shouldn’t the President have suffered some sort of accountability for allowing the terrorists to activate the nukes? And shouldn’t this have prompted the Speaker of the Houses’ decision that the nukes were compromised, and let all hell loose to deactivate them regardless of the consequences to the President? And shouldn’t the President have some sort of personal GPS tracker so that the Pentagon could establish if he was one of the eleven people that boarded the evac chopper? I was really hoping that How It Should Have Ended was going to have a go at closing the holes in the plot; but they’re tied up with other projects. Let’s hope that Jamie Foxx has a better go in White House Down.

Musical Caravans

I was selling some headphones to a customer today who told me that he needed them for his caravan. Now, I don't know what sort of caravan he had, but it must be a pretty small one to need a pair of headphones for it. And when did caravans come to life? Is it because summer is on it's way? I can picture it now; a huge row of trailers in a park, all with gigantic headphones and spinning left and right to the music. It must be a trainee holiday camp for DJs; with a party being inside each caravan with the people jumping from home to home depending on what tune took their fancy. It must be the best way to listen to the latest hits. Then a mad scientist shrinks the caravans so much that we can't hear the music any more and it sounds absolutely awful; which is why this man needs a normal sized pair of headphones so he can carry on listening to the music.

The clock is ticking...

I’ve suddenly found myself getting a lot better at Countdown; especially with the numbers game. In the letters challenge; I usually get four or five, but occasionally I do get the bigger words. It’s always struck me as a strange intellectual show; for the geeks that really do like to hide away. There are geniuses that spend their whole time reading the dictionary and looks like they’ve spent their entire time in the public library prior to appearing on the show. Even the host, Nick Hewer, lacks the presenting skills for the show, and it was the same with Richard Whiteley. They’re always shy to look into the camera for a proper welcome, and are often repeating themselves when it comes to entertainment in between the action. It’s not that we’re demanding showgirls on the show, but a little small talk is all that I’m asking; after all it is entertainment.

Have they thought this Through?

So this morning for the first time I spot a caution wet floor sign in the changing rooms of our local swimming pool. Then on the radio I hear that a retailer has decided to give money to Cancer Research by persuading people to give up their clothes for cancer.  I'm instantly thinking; have they actually thought this through? People would expect the floor of a swimming pool changing room to be wet; so why the need for a sign suddenly? And if I give up all my clothes to a retailer for charity; I'm going to have a very unpleasant journey home. In a world where we have to risk assess every tiny thing that we do so that the rules cannot be misinterpreted to make blame more obvious; why don't advertisements do the same thing? Why can't we have a bit of trust in our fellow man in the hope that they do the right thing?

White Van Man

Today I became a proper man; a man who drives a white van in fact! Now I too can roll down my window and say ‘ol right darlin’ as I drive past; smashing into the lorry in front of me as I go. It’s quite strange, driving from a different height though. It’s quite a stretch to reach the handbrake then you’ve got to remember that the gearstick is a lot shorter and there’s extra gears to play with. No rear view mirror but there’s a good parking sensor to help you park and extra wide mirrors to see who’s on your behind. There’s a limiter to limit your speed which is not to be confused with the indicator; and a small wheel for steering; surprising given the size of the lorry. Half the time I do feel that I’m driving as if I’m standing up; but I need to get used to it quite quickly as otherwise there’ll be plenty of time for swinging it round corners and across the curb!

Oliver's Mount

Today I explored Oliver’s Mount; as well as being a war memorial which offers fantastic views of the town; it’s also a natural road racetrack. At the summit sits a café and a free place to park your car, and a wall to perch on with a viewpoint of what you can see. Directly in front of you is Scarborough Castle and the harbour and a beautiful view of the headland. You can also see the terraced hotels of the traditional seaside town and the overspill of a growing resort just love how the Victorian houses and the church stand out on the cliff tops.  I’m half surprised that there’s no police look-out here; but then again half the town’s activity is masked by buildings and it’s very hard to see what’s going down below. You’re better off with the satellites and security cameras. Oliver’s Mount is also a local lover’s lane, though luckily not at this time of year!

Best laid plans...

Today was an interesting day of decisions and debate. Many good people have approached our forum; each with good intentions of how they would like to change things. Their plans were thought out with good intention; but often they were no match for our ideas. Their perceptions had to be changed; and with each idea their motion grew weaker and weaker. And when other people get involved; the idea is further perceived from a different angle; resulting in a completely different action from what the original idea intended. It was great that the realists got involved to make the idea plain and simple; but the perception of the action was often overanalysed for its effects rather than to simply view the desired outcome. This meant that the simplest and effective ideas were thrown out; while the more complicated plans were let through without thought on the effects upon the general public.   

Terror Towers

Yesterday we found a great building on the promenade; it was an old building that had been converted into a walk-through horror funhouse. There were some great horror movie sets with lots of strobe lights and eerie music. Within each room you had to wait for the door light to go green before you could go through it. We had dodgy shower scenes with blood written on the walls; lots of moving puppets and lots of stairs with twists on every corridor. There was a great scene where we waited in a room with some bushes, then a flash of light and we get attacked by velociraptors. Then there's a huge bang as a giant Tyrannosaurus Rex descends upon us. There were aliens and predators; unfortunately the aliens were still in their egg form. We had a great scene from blade when bodies started to move across a belt and we dodge through them to get to the next room. And there was a freaky electric chair scene with a Terminator standing by; which I just couldn't figure out. But Terror Towers is definitely worth a visit. 

Sunny Scarborough

I'm in sunny Scarborough! Well, I'd like to say sunny but a horrible sea mist has descended upon the town, making visibility next to impossible. After settling into our digs for the weekend, we found a nice nearby pub called the cask inn to wet our whistles. After completing our cask marque scan and enjoying a golden swallow; we went for a stroll along the promenade where we couldn't actually see anything at sea. It was great to see all the traditional arcades though with all their lights; there's even a Zoltan machine from the Tom Hanks movie; Big. Food was next on the agenda and after failing to find any fish and chip shops open; we settled for an American themed diner that sold gigantic burgers. After stuffing ourselves full of meat, it was time to explore more pubs. My favourite was the Cellars where a Blues band were playing, and someone fell to the floor and struggled to get up again after several pints of the blackjack IPA. 

Bus wars!

I've been doing a lot of driving lately (I even had to break for ducks today). And I know we're all in a rush to get to places, and we all have different abilities and reaction speeds; but the one thing that really bugs me is to hang on my tail as close as possible. It's certainly not going to make me drive any faster. So why did a bus driver decide to to get as close to me as possible last night? At first I thought he was only heading off to the parkway, but it turned out he was right behind me, and I know that he certainly wasn't sticking to the agreed speed limit. At one point I thought he might actually be trouble; and kept checking my wing mirrors to look out for a group of pirates fighting a group of ninjas while hanging off the outside of the bus. But no, it turned out he was just taking the bus back to the depot. 

That cynical landlord

It’s funny when you seek a fresh perspective from the landlord. True, we know he’s the gaffer and he decides who gets to be served next and whether he can get away with flogging you with another pint while you’re swaying on top of your bar stool but there is also the Landlord’s Opinion. For sure, you don’t want to question their opinions so that you can continue to enjoy your pint. But we know that they can be cynical bastards too, especially when it comes to other establishments. ‘That’s not a pub, it’s a broom cupboard with a wardrobe extension’, you might hear when discussing the latest uber-trendy bar. Another one you might hear is, ‘Oh, I think it’s just an opening offer, normally its £10.20 for two drinks’. But you have to take what you hear with a pinch of salt and go out there and experience it for yourself. Going by what other people say is sometimes overrated, especially when they’re the jealous type because you’ve put your coffers somewhere else…

The computers are in charge...again.

So yesterday was a day I intended for lots of action. I got an article completed, I went to the gym, I got ready for lunch. And then with the afternoon cancelled; it was time to catch up on some work from CAMRA land. And on went the computer, onto the mighty internet to buy things. And Internet Explorer just would not work. It opened, it crashed, it restarted, it crashed, the computer was turned off and on again and a dance was performed in honour of Zap, the god of technology. Neither of these worked, but the phone was connecting just fine. So onto Norton to find out what was wrong with my computer which could not load either, but it did decide that something was wrong with Norton. Norton wanted to go onto the Internet to check this but couldn’t because IE wouldn’t load. Fortunately I have iTunes installed which meant that I could set Safari as my default browser so that Norton could get things fixed. After a brief download and a Norton scan later, everything got fixed, but to this day I have no idea what it was apart from an error code with lots of numbers. Zap does not make things easy. 

Beer to Go

We all know that getting to our favourite pub can sometimes be hard and expensive. We’re all aware of the risks of drink driving and we’re often seduced by cheaper offers of lower quality drinks found on our supermarket shelves. But did you know that more and more pubs are supplying your favourite real ale straight from the landlord’s beer engine to take home with you?

If you’re hosting a party and wanted to get something special for your guests, you could save time at your local pub rather than trek out to the brewery shop. Or if you fancied enjoying a quiet pint at home after a hard day’s work you could just pop into a pub for your favourite pick-me-up without being late for dinner.

If every Good Beer Guide pub each sold just two takeout containers of beer or cider a week, this alone would amount to an extra 936,000 pints or 13,000 barrels annually.  These extra pints would contribute significantly to a rural community pub’s income simply by providing an extra service.

Some pubs already offer their own containers, while others are happy to just fill up whatever you can find! But to make this idea available to a wider audience, CAMRA is currently trialling and researching the use of takeout containers at some of its beer festivals this year. A simple wraparound label has been produced  which sticks onto the existing two pint container, while a more robust carry keg for the regular drinker is currently being discussed.

To find out more, join the debate on Twitter: @takeoutCAMRAproject (not yet created!).

Too much wood at the Woodies

My local pub used to be a cracking venue; they’d always make the effort to have something on to keep you entertained and make you feel guilty when you leave. But last night was absolutely dead. There was no band available despite being a bank holiday weekend. The lounge was empty. There were a few locals there having an argument about change. And only one hand pump had a pump clip on show. I know for a fact that they’ve cancelled their advert in our magazine. But they do have a sneaky barrel behind the bar but they don’t advertise it, and they sell it a lot cheaper too. And while the barmaid was telling the girl who served me that they weren’t short changed, she forgot about handing my change over too. Something is not right in that pub. I’d like to go there and support it more but the beer was a bit too woody, so it’s one place I won’t be visiting for a while.

Bromsgrove pops in for lunch

What was thought to be a quick session in the pub yesterday turned out to be a long lunchtime session.  After visiting the Slug & Lettuce in Bromsgrove to find no real ale on sale, we wandered over to the Golden Cross Hotel to find the world’s grumpiest man complaining about his migraine.  To cheer him up a bit, we invited him to hobble over to the Little Ale House, where the world’s largest black pudding scotch eggs are sold. It certainly kept me going over lunchtime as I enjoyed three beers on offer, which included Goff’s Tournament, Bathams Bitter (I had a pint of this as it had been a while since I’ve drank Batham’s and it was at a reasonable pint), and a delicious dark porter from Cotleigh. And there was a great crowd too; the place was packed with fellow supporters who had all decided to pop in for a lunchtime drink while our presentation was in progress.  So congratulations to the Little Ale House!

Planning Fail

I was really hoping to write about the Royal Oak in Kenilworth last night. I had a tiny bit of energy left in me that would just about get me to the pub for a judge’s visit before heading back home. Unfortunately, I had no money with me as I’d left all my belongings in my swimming bag; which I’d only discovered as I needed to visit the cash point before setting off. So instead I went home early, attempted to catch up on everything but ended up just falling asleep in front of the telly. I suppose I’d been a bit tired out by playing with my niece after coming back from swimming too. She’s got into the habit of saying ‘no Paul’ to everything she does. But she does enjoy being thrown around and held a lot. Still, it’s bank holiday weekend this weekend, so with a bit of luck and discipline I’ll be able to get a lot more activities planned.

Simple Service

One of the things I now do for our beer club is to help judge pubs. We judge the quality of the beer, the welcome and service, value for money, their sympathy to our club aims and their focus on the community. Last week I visited The Punchbowl in Warwick. Upon arrival, I found a car park that would only cost 50p and was a stones throw away from the pub but I did not have a single coin on me. After deciding whether to abandon the car for a few minutes to seek change, I eventually managed to park in the pub's ill designed car park. It could host a total of five cars with no lines and in close proximity to the picnic benches while also within each other. I entered just behind a couple who seemed to take ages at the bar to decide on their drinks and had to order food too. The strange thing was that the barmaid  had decided that we were all together, and left us to wash glasses while the couple were deciding on their food. A very odd assumption considering I hadn't been offered or even consulted on a drink while the other assumed members of my party were sampling away. A simple assumption of simple service will result in a simple score; as the pub's atmosphere was dead and the barmaid  had no attempt in conversation; her primary purpose being to collect up those glasses. Perhaps she thought a fight was imminent in this aptly named pub. 

The Miserables

It's war in my home town!  Kids are roaming round everywhere with rifles in readiness for action and looting up abandoned houses for supplies or trophy items. I'm marching through the streets not knowing who the enemy is, while people are going about their daily business, heading south through the muddy potholed road. Suddenly a grenade is thrown into the centre of the crowd. I shout 'Grenade!' and people start to scatter and stumble. I stop to pick up a young child to get him out of the blast range, only for him to carry on as if nothing has happened as soon as the explosive has detonated. Gunfire erupts and I take shelter in an alleyway belonging to my childhood sweetheart while bricks and mortar fall around me. The people continue as normal, their possessions bestowed upon their shoulders, the bullets somehow missing them or that their ignorance protects them from this apocalyptic world.  

Winter Fuel

On Saturday I went to watch Captain America: The Winter Soldier. It’s quite rare for me to go to the cinema on a Saturday night, usually I’m in the pub but a duty to see a Marvel film that’s been on, coupled together with a friend who I haven’t seen in a while made a good combination. I was actually struggling to stay awake on the journey back home so the fact that I managed to make it through the film without falling asleep was very impressive. It must have been all the action and explosions that kept me going. Afterwards it was definitely pub time where we retired to the Rising Sun to catch up with a pint of Black Geld from Wharfbank brewery in Yorkshire. This was a dark Indian Pale Ale which was rich is flavour and a very nice taste, leaving it moreish but savouring the taste was wanting too. I was tempted by a second pint but tiredness slowly began to kick in, and as my friend was ready too, we retired to Bedfordshire.

Not stale in Stourbridge just yet

Tonight's blog is coming live from Stourbridge town hall where I have been volunteering for the Stourbridge beer festival. It's a great venue and you're not rushed off your feet all the time (unlike some beer festivals), which means that there's often time to have a chat and a flirt with some of the customers. It also means that you have to chat and entertain some of the customers. But I do enjoy serving and it's a great way to pick up banter from other people to use at other events. It's a great mix of people and often the customers themselves don't know what to expect; you've also got the die-hard beer fans who know what they want and complain like hell if they don't get it. But all in all it's a great atmosphere and everyone is here to learn something new. Me? I learnt that cars can be powered by liquid propellant gas. 

Back to the Stockroom

So the best laid plans come to fruition, and, having worked for this company for nine years, I should know this by now. But no. I was actually inspired by a very early start where I arrived at the swimming baths just as people were preparing to go into the pool. I swam my lengths and still managed to catch up on my dives despite being confined to the lanes. Then after an early finish and a quick shower, I quickly discovered that I hadn't forgotten anything, brushed my hair and was able to hit the road to go straight to work. The traffic was flowing quite smoothly and I was able to turn right and take a sneaky shortcut to avoid the lights. So I arrived nice and early, and there was even time for a coffee with a banana and a sausage roll before starting my shift. But it all went backwards from there...

Making a Splash

I’m getting better at underwater swimming. I always seem to struggle with the first surface dive of the day, but on the second one I seem to have a better grasp and tend to be in better training, with a further two strokes underwater. What I am finding it hard to do is to try and find room to surface dive. I often find the pool full or people in the same lane; and can’t always anticipate which way they’re going to swim; especially when the lanes are removed; even though there is more room. Everyone just soaks up the space and swims around each other and not in a straight line.  Within the lane system it gets tighter, as I have to pick a passing pint for other swimmers so as not to crash into them. Often, it creates a backlog as I set myself a minimum of five dives a session; which I then have to carry onto other sessions if the pool is too busy.

Tired already...

So my first day at the new store started off not what I expected. I’m told stuff that is controversial to what I was told in the agreement; and energy seems to be lacking too. There doesn’t seem to be a rush to serve the customers or to get things done during the day. Progress is slow and customers are waiting for their goods which are right in front of them. A need for teamwork needs to be developed if life is to succeed here; and communication between team members seems lost too. Why are certain people doing delivery while others are out on the shop floor all day; having never ventured into the unknown upstairs before? It’s time to make a change; otherwise the rest of the planned changes shall just crumble to a halt. There’s a lot of simple tasks that can be done using teamwork so that we can focus on our tasks too. To the team!

Stop the sick

After the rumble of a full belly, one often feels the need to lie down. Flat on one’s back, one drifts off into an unconscious state, without any reflection on the events that may occur. Then there is the sudden awakening, the register that something is about to happen. One feels the need, but one decides that one is going to pull through and no further action is taken; as prevention is preferred to anticipation. Again and again that same decision is made, held back by willpower and gutso. Until, an unexpected surge forces open the gates; spilling its foul contents out of the abyss; that pit where one thought it would be held; and floods into our world. Disgust and regret are our first instincts; yet at the same time a sense of relief is detected; in that the worst is over and there is only the aftermath to attend to.

Team Walsall En Force!

Yesterday was a great day in Walsall and I am proud of how people have come together. While we didn’t get any actual new recruits on the day, we did have people who had already decided that they would venture out to join us. It was a great chance for people to meet and greet each other from other branches and to start the process of a support network. After meeting and greeting each other at the festival, a local guide took us to our first pub; the Fountain. People were a little apprehensive at first as some of them haven’t been on a crawl like this before; but everyone soon got talking to each other and finding out a bit more what they do within CAMRA. We visited a further three pubs, and had an excellent time seeking out many other beers that I hadn’t tried before. It’s just a shame that I felt queasy the day after.

Push!

I need to find a new source of energy. As I arrived home last night I was completely out of energy to even look at a community project. I turned on the computer, looked at the TV, and felt totally shattered. In the morning I set my alarm for a 6am start to get a gym session in, but couldn’t even move. Although I was awake, I couldn’t actually stir until an hour before work. The exact same thing happened tonight; as I put on Haywire, watched a feature-length episode of Family Guy, then flicked over to Wanted. If I’m going to succeed with even shorter hours over the next few months, I definitely need to knuckle down and focus a lot more. I don’t think I can find a stimulant; just a lot of discipline. So to be braver I need to push harder and longer, whatever the cost.

Build the best team

Yesterday I met my new team that I’ll be working with over the next six months. They’re a quiet bunch but it seems that they’ve experienced a lot of changes within the store and that their energy is at an all-time low. We had a lot of flipchart discussions to lay down some new team rules to help support each other. We did some team building activities like building a safety device for an egg to stop it from smashing when it hits the floor. We did some charades to get people to relax and do things that they wouldn’t normally do. And I met my new boss’s four year old mentor. There’s nothing like a four year old to tell you to smile to get you going. But if there’s one thing that I need to do is to be the best that I can be. Push myself further. Be braver and bolder and head into the unknown.

Itsy Bitsy

Today featured a gym visit and, although I had a lazy  Monday, there was still a chance to make a little bit of progress to recover. Though perhaps Monday’s lie-in was a good thing as there was no water for the showers. Not sure how long that’s been going on. But there’s still the exercise bikes that don’t work when you attempt to change the touchscreen settings; and the TVs on the treadmills aren’t receiving anything either, probably because they’re stuffed with bog roll. The car park’s in a disarray because of the road being dug up to look at the water supply, which means that cars are all over the one-way system. And one of the ends of the chest press has wandered off. Still, at least the biceps curl has finally been fixed. I have toyed again with the idea of joining the cheaper town centre gym; but the view is so much nicer here. Then again, I may have to look at accessibility options when I start the new job…

Dog eat dog

The world is full of idiots. Even the simplest instructions can be misinterpreted. And because of what someone has decided to do, I have received an earful of how upset they were because they didn’t follow those instructions, and apparently it is my entire fault. So I now need to find a new team member to replace him otherwise it’s going to be a bloodbath throughout the rest of the year. Because I’m not putting up with any more crap that he chooses to throw at me. So if others want to support him then that’s fine and I can just walk away and carry on in the sidelines as everyone else does. But if people want me at the forefront to organise things then a decision will have to be made. It’s a dog eat dog situation, and the only way out of it is if he comes forward and apologises.

Conspiracy to stop me now

So today I set out with every intention of doing something new. My aim was to go the gym, then hop on a train and visit Birmingham’s new library, do a bit of work and maybe even visit a pub or two. So I woke at a reasonable time, made breakfast then got ready for the gym. As I prepare to leave I decide to wait twenty minutes until rush hour is over. Then I decided to plan my visit by updating my phone with a map of the library. The computer then decides that my phone needs an update, which needs twenty minutes before I can do anything, during which I remember that I forgot to take my paperwork from work which means that I have to call back into work on the way back from the gym. I then have to visit our farm where we keep our beer festival and the road is closed; meaning I have to scout out a diversion to check the equipment. This means that I don’t get home until noon which means a one o clock train and I’ve missed the morning session. I’m finally on the train to Brum which breaks down outside Northfield due to signalling problems and we crawl the rest of the way. I give up at Five Ways, get out, but decide to walk to the nearest Wetherspoons pub for lunch rather than the charming upmarket Bistro I had intended on visiting. It’s a conspiracy against me I tell ya!

War!

A storm is coming. The traditional men with sticks are about to face the women with pebbles. The traditional Morris Ring have danced while crossing wood in time to their harmonious folk music. And now, as the Morris Men grow old and seek new blood; their counterparts have formed the Morris Federation.  Womenfolk don’t necessarily throw stones but want to be part of the traditional movement; and have formed their own society. And so, now that Morris men are no longer hard core traditional dancers but old men dancing in gaiety, they’re dying out. And the Morris federation wants to give them a run for their money. Is it time that the traditional dancers lowered their sticks? Should traditional values be lowered so that the existence can continue? It’s the epic battle of survival of man versus woman. Stone will beat stick. And of course, hankies will most certainly be waved. 

Time for a re-boot...

Computer trouble strikes this afternoon, as I prepare for an afternoon of getting things done; one of the first things that I do is turn on my password safe. Though lately, the one-click button to get the thing working hasn't been working lately. I then have to go into the virus programme and launch it separately, then close the virus programme. Today however sees the virus program icon loading but no menu screen. A right-click achieves nothing, neither does loading the programme from the start menu. I then start goggling for help, but rather than getting a support page from the company; I'm re-directed to a community page where everyone has had the same problem two years ago. I then re-start the programme and it works fine. As I'm typing this it suddenly occurs to me that all my problems could be solved by re-installing the safe on my browser. Here’s to hoping…

Big Kid

So today I've been told I'm acting like a big kid. And it’s true. I had to go into work early to help get everything for a promotion. We built a gazebo outside the store, and when we’d finished I decided to put balloons outside it. And so as soon as I’d inflatable the balloons and tied them up with string, I skipped outside with them just like a little kid. Then just before lunch I found out that all the annuals were reduced in the sale; so I spent lunch eating Monster Munch and reading the Beano annual. Towards the end of the day I got quite tired; and my colleagues seemed to spot this quite easily. And so right now I'm curled up reading my Beano and wondering if I will ever grow up. Of course I always have the option, but it’s just no fun any more. But then again, no-one wants to come out to play tonight…

Time to go...

In last night’s dream I was looking for an angelic cherub shaped like Stewie’s head from Family Guy. I’m not sure why, it’s probably something to do with falling asleep watching Seth Macfarlane cartoons and reading a Dan Brown book. I was in Rome and I’d checked out the obvious places like the churches and the castle, but hadn't yet checked out the museum. There was a lovely hotel with a cosy bar serving pub grub and good beer. At some point, I was also in an English –style manor garden in a Welsh village waiting for a bus. Travelling is something I’d like to do more but just need to focus on completing my projects. Last night Google Chrome crashed for half an hour and couldn't get it working again. I think it’s time to look at switching browsers again; IE hasn't crashed for a while and loads quite quickly nowadays; hopefully that’ll be OK when all the add-ons are installed too.

Does this fold seem familiar?

While waiting for the bathroom, and, encouraged by yesterday’s success of a paper dog, I decided to pass the time by attempting to make an origami snappy beak. I first had to backtrack to make a diamond base; then backtrack again to make a kite base; but when then was sorted I was ready to move onto step 1. Open bottom base, which I duly did. There then followed an arrow directing me to push it up to the top to make a straight fold without any insides showing. This showed to be quite impossible, and all I was asked to do in step 2 was to look at step 3 for the result. After fifteen minutes the paper duly ended up in the bin and I fear that the rest of the calendar will be heading that way as well. Now I remember why I gave up on the damn thing in the first place.

More tea m'luady?

I’ve just started reading Pride & Prejudice. Once again, this seems to be another upper class love novel where there are rich parties every weekend and the first thing that they learn off another person is their income each year. We again touch on the impracticality of waiting for an introduction so that a call can be made; and then the process must be repeated by the other party so as not to be rude.  I know that someone will be married; probably Mr. Bingley, and that Elizabeth will soon find herself attracted to Mr. Darcy and perhaps even learn his first name. Possibly, as even Mrs. Bennett refers to her husband as Mr. Bennett. At the end of the day there’s no heroic tale here, just ladies gossiping over one another at a tea party over who is proudest and who should be prejudiced. Ms Lucas will just fall over somewhere and end up as a spinster; and someone may drop a teacup or spill a wine glass. What ho.

It's hard to share on-line...

I've been trying to put a new e-book onto my phone this week to continue The Big Read. A while ago, a friend gave me a flash drive full of e-books, and because I've misplaced my list of books to read, I decided to pick out Winnie the Pooh because it was nice and short. I really wanted to read the new Bridget Jones novel; but no-one bought it me for Christmas because I was still reading Dan Brown’s Inferno, which I was quite enjoying until it was pointed out that it’s a cheap way to write about architecture. But because Stanza no longer exists for iOS and iOS and Kobo won’t share the file, I have no choice but to read Jane Austen’s tale of Pride and Prejudice. And so the art of sharing is hard to do in the digital world, so you really do have to smash and grab what you can.

All creased up

The Japanese art of origami is a relaxing technique, and I have an origami calendar to make something each day. There are lots of folds to make with pictures and diagrams, and you use yesterday’s instructions to make today’s model, so but you’re never going to remember how to make each item next time you’re at a dinner party and need to entertain folk. That’s what the internet is for; you can always Google the item on YouTube. The trouble is that I never seem to commit to get the item right. No matter how many folds I make, I've got no idea whether I'm doing each step right or wrong. So how do you know you’re doing it right? Well, this year I’I'm going to try and finish the calendar (even though I didn't clean my teeth at all yesterday). If it’s good, it can sit on the mantelpiece for a day, and if it’s rubbish, it’s going in the bin even quicker.

Sleuthing Around

So after an evening of watching a detective series; I decided to do a little sleuthing of my own. Upon my journey back from the pub last night I noticed a burning smell coming from the back alley of my neighbouring houses. Now, my neighbourhood is quite nice but the homes based on the main road tend to belong to another type of class. And the mystery grows even more with the allotment opposite. Having had a good sniff around, the smell didn't come from the allotments which could not be good in terms of house safety. Once I had sourced the area of the smell; I then had to investigate the house; as all I could see from a distance was a flame in a window. A quick dash round to the front of the house proved that there was only a light on and a window open; so there was no evidence of anyone monitoring the situation. My only course of action was therefore to pop back round to the back and try the handle of the gate. Amazingly, it was unlocked; and the source of the burning turned out to be a dying chimera. But it’s actually amazing how many of my neighbours actually relax their access to their backyards.

Dental Resolutions

I find it odd that, considering the amount of time invested in maintaining my chompers, I'm constantly being told by my dentist that I need them professionally cleaned. I currently spend two minutes a day brushing; and while I know it should be four, I know that I simply do not have the time. Statistically, we are supposed to spend a whole day of each year brushing our teeth. Probably more if you need time to put toothpaste onto your brush. But far from spending a whole day over the sink in order to reach pristine condition (and thus having the worst kept mouth on New Year’s Eve; no-one would kiss you); I'm still told that I need to catch up by seeing the dental hygienist. Not this year. I'm now going to put in the other half day to save myself twenty-five quid. And I’ll even floss if I have to.

A repetitive task

There is a task that I do every day to try and tidy myself up. A task that, if I don’t complete it, I'm bound to suffer for it the day after. A task that I fail to get right every single day, no matter how hard I try. It’s trimming the hedge. It’s mowing the lawn. Off my face. Every. Single. Day. And it has to be done by hand. I've tried the good old electric razor but I might as well rub sandpaper all over my face. Nothing gets the job done like the good old blade and foam. But relying on other methods just won’t work. They’re expensive and you've got to find them or at least work out when they’re available. So in the end you just have to do it yourself. But how long can you keep doing it? How long can you keep going before you have to seek out that extra bit of help?

The detail is in the devil

So yesterday I spent nine minutes watching an accident investigator discuss as to why Michael Schumacher had an accident on his skis. The equipment had been examined. The footage had been analysed. But as to why we need to have such detail looked at I have no idea. The news channel hung onto every word of what the investigator announced regarding the crash. Flooding stopped. The stock market ceased to a halt. Crime ceased to exist. And all because a famous rich man decided to go off-course (or off-piste if you want to be anal and alienate everyone) and fall over. Sure, I feel for the guy in that he’s hurt himself, but do we really need this level of detail? Can’t we just rule that he’s a clumsy oaf or he had a whoopsie daisy to demonstrate that he’s human like everyone else? Are they concerned that he’s going to wake up and think; ‘I will now sue the French government for allowing that rock to be there’. Perhaps they thought that the Italians might have laid a trip wire for him when he wasn't looking. 

Post Complete! Level Up!

One of the many distractions with computers is that of on-line gaming. Despite my best intentions of getting tasks done, there’s always that Facebook request that needs to be dealt with or that little man that must reach the other side of the screen. And it’s tantalising. You know it’s only a case of pressing the correct combination of keys at the right moment to make him leap that moving obstacle. And you know it’s just a crap unrealistic game that’s got no sense of how this situation would occur in real life and is just going to say well done at the very end of it, without even a secret video to watch. But completing it is a sense of achievement. And that’s what’s missing off real life. You have to give yourself a mental well done once you've finished the washing-up because no-one else is going to do it; they’re just going to moan that it hasn't been done.  Anyway, well done for reading this post.

Council needs to make a Splash

So it’s the first working week of January and everyone’s put themselves into a strict diet for the year. That means that we all have to work extra hard at whatever resolution we’ve decided to put ourselves through. Unfortunately, for me that means more people in the pool. All the pro swimmers have decided to come out of the lanes because they have more room to overtake everyone else; which leaves less room for me to do dives. Plus they haven’t grasped the fact that there may be someone in their way right behind them. There’s a continuing dislike towards the lane system as everyone swims at different speeds and no-one really wants to do the good thing by switching lanes. So we’re now left with an overcrowded pool while our population grows with no resources to extend or improve the existing facilities. Kudos to the council for not predicting growth in the use of their services.

The lunatics have the Asylum

More cutbacks. Less competent people available to help which means I am running round like a headless chicken trying to ensure that everyone has a chance of knowing what they are doing. Meanwhile, the leaders are in their lair trying to plot the actions of the next two weeks; little knowing that they have no idea of what is actually happening outside of their door. The stupid people are getting stupider and lazier, thinking that I can magic their problems out of thin air while they just sit and play with their mobile phones. I’m sick of this. I need out. I need an occupation with limits that I can control rather than to live up to the expectation of others. I need my ideas listened to and acted on to improve the situation rather than to be shelved and to be told to wait what’s around the corner. And I need a better income too…

The Science of Deduction

I’m quite enjoying Steven Moffat’s revitalisation of Sherlock at the moment. It’s a twentieth century tale of the world’s greatest detective; together with terrorists, kidnappings and forensics galore. It’s amazing that Sherlock is back from the dead and that Sherlock is always able to create a plan out of anything; but it’s suddenly revealed that he’s only part of a team that makes his actions happen. The genuine genius of Cumberbatch means that he gets to be a complete arse without having to explain anything to anyone. But it’s a shame that there only seems to be three feature-length episodes; surely it would be better to make it a full series. But surely it’s now going to be difficult to introduce a new villain to the series now that Jim Moriati is dead. Unless Holmes’s brother turns evil; or perhaps Moriati has cloned himself or has made a back-up plan, much like Jigsaw from Saw. That would be simply brilliant. 

Dreaming of...a forced eviction?

I’ve had another strange dream where I’m preparing to leave home; still accompanied by both parents; without being given any notice. I’m given just two days to prepare; both days are work days so I don’t have any time to prepare for the move.  I have no knowledge of the new property other than it’s not possible to keep two vehicles on the drive; although consciously I did ask if there were room for three cars for some reason. I have to source my own boxes and am given a deadline of when everything needs to be parcelled up by; and this is a real deadline set by the estate agent. I’m told that anything I don’t pack up will be boxed up for me by a work colleague; but then I lose track of where everything is (as if I do already; I was sure yesterday that I had extra razors).

I'm back baby!

Happy new year! Last night was spent down at the Victoria Works drinking some good beer (though I stayed off the dark ones), and even though I didn’t turn in until around 4am, I still didn’t end up with a hazy head. It was a good time munching though the last of the Christmas cheese, and even though we didn’t see much of the band or discover who actually won the picture quiz, it was still a very entertaining night. We even had some fireworks courtesy of the local social club round the corner; we just needed to gather in the pub’s car park. Today was spent watching classic telly while doing my usual monthly updates; while waiting for my slothy friend to stir out of the guest room. So it’s 2014 and it’s time to get serious. I’ve spend quite a bit of last year lounging around trying to make sense of things happening and generally things haven’t been moving forward. And that needs to change.