Day 195, colour stripe, weather symbols

Stripes.

Stripey.

Colours.

Colourey,

Weather.

Weathers.

Weathery.

Symbol.

Symbols.

Symbolic?

Nah, don't be soft.

Piece entitled - What did you do in your evening after work?

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Day 194, motorcycle image motion induced nausea

Anyone would think this person had an interest in motorcycles.

There are more on another shelf, hidden from view.

Also, anyone would think that Google "auto awesome" has an interest in making a person travel sick.

The effects that Google apply to photographs can certainly have unintended consequences.

I've had to add enough carriage returns to make the image scroll off the screen so that I don't chunder on the keyboard.

Here's the start of some whitespace to present a bit of a cushion.






































Here's the end of the whitespace.  If only it was possible to change the frame timing of the "auto awesome" animated GIF. 

It is in fact much less unpleasant if you can scroll down far enough to avoid seeing the top of all the books.











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Day 193, not incident worthy

Walk into town.

Stop off at the office.

Continue.

Interviewed by Radio Sheffield in Barker's Pool.

Continue to the railway station.

Catch train to Stockport, locate reserved seat with success.

Colleague arrives at Dore.

Alight at Stockport.

Taxi to The Christie NHS Foundation Trust for vendor technical session on storage.

Ingest sandwiches and information.

More technical sessions.

Leave The Christie and call for taxi, 5 to 10 minute wait anticipated.

Taxi locates the main entrance 50 minutes later after hilarious sequence of navigational ineptitude.

Survive taxi journey to the railway station, just.

Catch train to Sheffield.

Alight at Sheffield.

Catch taxi home.

Arrive home

Cook tea.

Personally, a day mostly without incident.

Here is a mat.

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Day 192, Cleggonomics

Nick Clegg has been trooping round media outlets today to tell anyone that would listen that he has some "red lines" on education, and that it would be a "deal breaker" for any potential coalition partners if they failed to accept them.

I guess Nick has forgotten where he has been for the last five years and what he said before the last election.  That's no surprise though as judging by the amount of landfill and recycling material his local constituency office has been posting through my door for the last five years he's been busy constructing leaflets, fake newspapers, and fabricating flyers which basically pretty much blame anyone else but his party for the difficulties the country faces.  He blames the previous government for the global economic crisis, presumably as it is something that he thinks will let him off the hook, it plays well with the Tory press, and if you tell people something often enough then...

He also forgets that before the last election he said political advisers should be funded by the political parties that employ them.  He currently has sixteen advisers that are paid for by our taxes.  He forgets that he backed a mansion tax when in opposition, but his party voted against it when in bed with the Tories.  He forgets that he was opposed to tuition fees and intended for them to be scrapped, yet went on to assist the Tories by voting to increase them from £3000 to £9000.  There are so many about faces Clegg has made that dizziness from all that spinning has caused memory loss.

And now he says that there are "deal breakers".  Hang on a minute, you've had opportunity after opportunity to be gung-ho against a slash and burn government, you could have imposed "deal breakers" before like those you claimed to support, yet only now when an election arrives you decide it's the time to act, to remind people that you might have teeth.  Or is that it, it's just an act and your teeth are in a mug by the bed where they've been for the last five years.  It would appear so from the evidence so far.  What about when you sold off the Post Office at a great loss to the people of this country because you accepted a valuation by the pals of the Tories?  You can't pretend you were out of the room planning dinner and polishing the cutlery and so missed the details, you must remember (there must be something you can remember) that one of your own MPs was in charge of the bloody process.

I understand that if you're busy trying to save your seat you might have been a bit busy, but surely part of that process must be to tell people about the good things you have achieved, the things that you have succeeded in doing for the benefit of your constituents and the country.  You're probably having the same trouble as me in finding anything positive to say about what you've been up to, but then it is easily argued that I might be biased.  Surely if you have done something of benefit you ought to have told us about it.  After all it's not as if you haven't had a medium to get your message across, I've got a small forest worth of 'literature' you've cluttered our recycling bin with, you could have put it in one of those.  Or perhaps even you can't find anything positive to say and you would just prefer to forget...  Well, join the club.












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Day 191, tactical withdrawal, deep shaft exit

The latest developments were considered carefully by those back at headquarters.

The well being of those on the frontline were not considered.  There was no ethical or moral thought given to what the outcome for them would be.  What happened to those on the frontline was accounted for by the benefit and the greater good that would be accrued for the majority - at least that is what was assumed.  If there was a sacrifice of any sort then it was reasoned that, on the whole, it would be worthwhile.  That they were not willing volunteers for a role that posed potential risks to health and wellbeing was less considered than it might have been, perhaps those in control would come to regret this decision.


Ratstard Melkenstuke sat silently in the office.  Charismatic megafauna had not been much of a thing in the life of Ratstard, one giant boggle eyed leaf chewer was much the same as any other, if it died close by then assuming it was upwind and the smell wasn't noticeable then fine, if it lived then assuming it didn't deposit something in Ratstard's path then it was unlikely to register.

Was the danger going to be large, furry, and vegetarian, or even larger, furrier, and carnivore?

Ratstard absent mindedly stuck the piece of lemon drizzle cake into one eye socket and made the squeaking sound of a trapped rodent.

"Aiiieeear, ugh, fuckwit."

Then the the inter-controller brushed the sticky mess out of one bloodshot eye. 

There had been a reduction in discussion on the topic of the potential hazard since the first wave had broken.  The escape shaft had been prepared, the stairs brushed down and the lighting repaired and configured to use the second of the three backup power rails.  They were ready, or at least they thought they were.


As Ratstards mouth puckered from the last crumbs of the bitter topping of the cake the first pulses of the alert siren sounded. From infrasonic, to trigger discomfort and a fear response, up to an oscillation between 1 and 3 khz.  The rush of adrenalin from the first pulses spurred the occupants to a hasty exit.


Ratstard fumbled to the top of the personal exit shaft.

It was locked from the other side.  Ratstard was stuck, trapped.










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Day 190, long range forecast

Zarwal Nabafnicote stared at the horizon.

There was something there, hidden behind the heat haze, not an optical illusion, there was definitely something there.

Zarwal made the decision.  Time to contact the team.  If the data was correct, minimising assumption from calculation and prediction, then the machine needed to be activated.

Headquarters received the news from Zarwal and betrayed no sense of alarm.  Operatives at the frontline, those waiting and watching, hadn't been given all of the facts.  In fact those operatives had been given no facts.  There was concern that those operatives wouldn't have remained stationed at their posts if they had known.

The 'machine' as understood by the frontline operatives was actually no such thing.  There was very little that could be done about what was about to happen.  The aim was to maintain normality for as long as possible before putting the hidden objective into action.

Zarwal had done what was requested but had not previously considered what the next move would be.  Headquarters had said "wait for further updates", but this did not sit well given the level of fear instilled in the watchers.  Perhaps headquarters had made a mistake with their planning, Zarwal thought.  Perhaps there was something else, something they weren't saying?

Zarwal considered for a moment, thought "I'm being silly", and then relaxed.

As Zarwal sipped a cup of tea, eyes shut, then started doing the recommended relaxation exercises.  Counting back from 10, further relaxed, Zarwal started to become drowsy.

Then, an almighty crack, like that of an enormous, bone dry and brittle tree branch breaking, brought Zarwal back to earth with a start.

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Day 189, getting high

The things some people will do to draw attention to themselves.  Stuff crumpets in their eyes, open pop-up lubricant shops, write blogs, will it never end.

But look at this person.  Honestly.  Imagine choosing to release your racing ferret from this height, what a show-off.

Maybe you're struggling to see the ferret wrangler, they are very high after all.  This grainy shot below shows them wearing their anti-nip hi-viz jacket, formal regulation clothing for when handling Mustelo furo with its sharp canine teeth.

Ferret are not generally known for their aerobatic abilities.  However there is a variant on the breed in Yorkshire that has a large amount of spare flesh in their midriff.  This flesh is normally tucked away out of site in their underbelly but under some circumstances it may be unfurled to provide a rudimentary wing for the purposes of gliding.  It is also possible, by the strategic use of thermals, for the ferret to travel incredible distances.  This capability of the ferret has been taken up for the northern sport of ferret racing where ferrets are taken to high places, such as Stanage Edge, and then released.

The ferret, once released, aims to enter a V formation with other released ferrets.  It will glide until the critical mass of the requisite number of ferrets has gathered and then they will head off, thermal to thermal, aiming for the fields of raw meat already put in place to attract them.  Being obligate carnivores there is little chance that they will mistakenly land in a field of wheat.

Where this instance is unusual is that an entire crane was erected to release a single ferret.  But this is no ordinary ferret, this is Juno Acapulco Venturer, the Queen's own prize ferret.  And as it turns out the ferret wrangler isn't showing off, they are an employee of the Crown and are obliged to do the bidding of Her Majesty.

It transpires that this is a ceremonial releasing and this noble ferret was about to glide down to the site of the old Royal Hospital where some meaty treats had been placed on the roof of the flats above the Tesco Metro.  The event was being filmed for a post election broadcast to tell the subjects of Her Maj how lucky we are to be living in such a democratic nation.

My name is Bernard Homogeneous and I approve this message.












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Day 188, levelling skips

The toughest job in the world.

Levelling skips.

Don't know about you but the poor folk that have the task of levelling skips have my sympathy.

Here's a toughie, I guess they gave up and went away after a quick phone call to the boss.

"Hey boss"
"Yup?"
"Hey boss, I done the levelling"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, it was kinda tricky, had to put an old dead dog under one end to get it nearer the horizontal"
"A dead dog you say, that goes against normal procedure, but hey, as long as you got it level"
"Yeah sure boss, it was hard work but it's done, soooo er, bye now."

A not completely convincing attempt there by the zero hours contract employee.  That isn't going to get them very far in their wish to become an apprentice to a skip painter.


At another skip levelling organisation the sun is shining and a temp calls in.
"Yo, gaffer"
"To whom are you referring?"
"Don't shit me bro there's a skip that's levelled and I'm calling it in"
"I see, good job.  Hopefully it really is on the level?"
"Waaaaaay, abso-mondo-luterly, you couldn't skin a chicken with the angle I has it at"
"Well let's see once the supervisor has checked it to sign it off"
"Ha ha hahaha, looooser, ain't no problem with my levelling no way, seeya, wouldn't wanna eat dinner with ya"
"(Sigh), honestly, the influence of the Teletubbies is still with us for goodness sake"

Slightly less toss than the previous attempt but this new member of the skip squad has made more of an effort. 


Further west, another skip organisation is at work.
"Base.  How do you read"
"Five by five, remote worker.  Standing by for your skip report.  Over"
"The skip was on time.  Residuals before levelling: (garbled)"
"We've lost all data with remote worker.  Please reacquire on the high gain.  Over"
"Yeah, residuals before levelling, all resolved, only a slight declination which could be rectified with trim correction.  Over"
"Good job remote worker.  Throttle down and return to base.  Over"
"Copy that.  Returning to base."

A much more organised levelling attempt by the outfit from Houston.  With skills like that in abundance they should have no difficulty in quashing all competition in the area - as long as they retain the high-gain S-Band antenna and private comms channel their secret should remain secure.















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Day 187, A pier of one’s own.

Just outside my front door in the UK there is a large lagoon.  Whenever I’m back home this is the place I choose to be.  Here I feel more centred and at ease.

The jet set lifestyle may seem very attractive, but trust me it is an enormous burden.

Having to be in New York in my Manhattan loft apartment one day, then, after a brief stopover at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway for a private session speed testing my custom built Lamborghini Aventador I then need to recuperate at our small, but luxurious, villa at Musha Cay in Copperfield Bay in the Bahamas the next. This can be such an emotional drag.  The tedium of first class air travel has to be experienced to be believed, there really is only so much Champagne that one normal, yet pretty impressive, human sized body can absorb over the duration of travel.

Then there is the problem of the press.  Forever trying to point out what a pretentious and hypocritical wanker I am.  You may not be au-fait with such things but trust me it is the most difficult job in the world.

Oh, here’s my four o’clock foot massage, I really must dash, they’re late and are going to be in such trouble, I may have to report them to immigration.

Copy courtesy Half Baked Productions Inc.

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Day 186, redevelopment

'Ere, that naughty Mr 'itler done for most of this area.  Now it's having a bit of a refresh.  The new market sits on the right hand side here now, these shiny things are showing us environmental stuff for some reason. 

What we have is an interesting selection of marketing structures, modular pop-ups, banner stands, panel displays, the sort of gubbins that would give your cheeky modern player of sales techniques a wet dream.

Ok, that's probably a bit overboard.  They're clunky structures, and the idea that anyone might get aroused by these things when either awake or asleep suggests a credulousness bordering on that of the completely gullible.  But then it takes all sorts, and many of us are tolerant and understanding of humanity and its foibles. *Ed - What the fuck are you on about?


So here's a video off of that Old Grey Whistle Test for no apparent reason.

And, moving on.











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Day 185, Sparrow world domination

Small sparrow needs a home after the residence it nestled in was grubbed up and burnt.

The neighbour's hedge is a perfectly adequate refuge.

Why shouldn't these creatures move there, we share the same small planet.

How do these flying beasts fare in winter when the bird bath is frozen solid.

There's a foot of snow on the ground, and the nuts as hard as uranium bullets.

The frozen contents of the water bowl

The strong ones and the lucky survive.

Those nearby take advantage of our abundance.

Not wanting to see a fellow creature suffer we put out food.

The chatter at dawn grows as the days warm.

Then a fresh flush of tiny wings, clumsily crashing into the feeders.

My sparrow army is almost complete.











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Day 184, No stairs

Oh, no, where are our stairs!  Just left the house to get provisions for beans on ciabatta with a quinoa side dish and the damned stairs have left home.

Why they have gone we do not know, they didn't leave a note.  There was no bad feeling the last time we stepped on them, not from us anyway.  We weren't aware of any disagreements or ill will, what could have happened.

We looked for traces but could find no evidence.  Rufus the bloodhound was no use, not having any old socks to prime his nose was a bit of a let down yet even so the old rug soldiered on, walking round in circles making a keening noise.

Yes, the blighters have buggered off without so much as a creaky goodbye.

How we get back inside is not straightforward.  Climbing up the fall-pipes with bags of shopping is an option.  Perhaps not as tricky as it is for those inside if they decide to leave and step out of the house without checking there is a floor below their feet.

What it has revealed to us is the lovely construction of the angle brackets formerly used to hold the stairs in position.  We will have to be satisfied with observing their elegance and charm while dipping  our bread in cold beans and sucking on chewy grain sitting here on the pavement.

Step into the groove.
You've got to prove you can raise me up to the highest door.











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Day 183, rocky downhill rewind

Back in the mists of time.  31st August 2009 to be exact.  A cat said hello.  A mountain bike ride up from Ladybower, leading onto one of the little roads near Aston, and there was this cat.

A tickle, a purr, and then a turn of the wheel to the climb.

Off up Win Hill, and en route this view.

Then cycled past Hope Cross, along the Roman road, to the rocky winding descent to Rowlee Bridge and the old farmhouse.

The descent we'd been down many times, tricky, technical, dangerous, and one that on this occasion caused a little bit of a problem.

I exceeded the the speed possible over giant moon-rock sized boulders, exceed the ability of my brakes to retard that speed, and exceeded my skill and ability.  It was fun, a moment of out of control and exhilarating madness of hope, then crashing to the ground to win tremendous bruising with a bonus serving of concussion.

My swollen head

My eyes were spinning round in my head, like the reels on a fruit machine, for about a month.

Will be getting the bike out again this weekend.  Won't be doing that downhill yet.  The nose is still slightly out of shape six years later.  But the rest if me is still here, head still just about attached and now with all new added helmet, and hopefully that cat is still with us.

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Day 182, Obituary of a fantasist

Dreamer, snorer, wearer of hats.

Leggy, lumpen, alliterative,

Gadfly, opaque, unsuitably obscure, meringue.

All these terms and more have been applied to our new age anti-hero.

What more can be said about Meurfat Condensophobe that hasn’t already been said by officials acting on behalf of the Crown Prosecution Service.

But yet we go on.

Liberator of the five nations, freer of slaves, emancipator.

Seer of visions, helmet model, assassin.

Agent, oppressor, Whitworth fastener fanatic.

This individual had such a wide range of disparate skills, who will step into their sandals now they are gone.

Zombie, lunatic, moron.

Rat haired, lemon scented, bloodless.

Lubricious, costed, lame.

Gone, gone, gone, but not soon to be forgotten.  Particularly because of huge debts left due to gambling and for the failure of the impish attempt to sell the Houses of Parliament.

Chancer, belligerent, sensitive.

Rhythmic, soundless, unhip.

Chaotic, suggestive, isolated,

and most of all,

dead.

A word from our sponsor

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