Day 287, No raincoat required

No raincoat required today.

That sentence just doesn't feel right.  Not with the album No Jacket Required by Phil Collins.

The alliteration doesn't cut it, whereas jacket seems to fit.

Not many people will own up to liking Phil Collins.

I'm not a fan either.

Imagine being at a party.

Full of drink.

With a crowd of others.

Possibly in 1986.

Singing along to In the Air Tonight.

I can't.

And if anyone else can, then they weren't there.

Because it didn't happen.

Now which one's my raincoat?

For official/internal use only:
7676
0-9

Day 286, Modern dilemmas

Time was when magic beans were 10 a penny.

Local urchins used to be able to sell a kidney and with the 3 or 4 pennies they’d ‘earned’ they were able to buy a heap of magic beans.

They could then do what they liked with the beans, exchange them for a cow, or plant them and hope to climb up to a special kingdom of gold dripping giants.

Nowadays however it seems that magic beans are very hard to find indeed, and even though the number of pennies that will be given in exchange for a kidney is higher by a factor of many thousands it still isn't enough to buy a resource which is in such short supply.

Is it sensible to sell a kidney for any amount of money?

Is it worthwhile looking for magic beans?

Is it worthwhile learning how to be satisfied with the lack of magic beans and the surplus of kidney instead?

Perhaps, who knows huh.

For official/internal use only:
7675
0-9

Day 285, Lost parts

Being a cheapskate born out of a long history of not having a great deal of cash, and definitely not wanting to spend cash, means that most of my modes of transportation have been prehistoric.

There have been occasions where bits of my transport have fallen off.

One dirt bike had a wheel spindle through the top of its monoshock holding it in the frame.  It had to be tapped back in again every 10 or 15 minutes otherwise leaping over a jump would have meant total bike collapse on landing.

Another bike had a centre stand that fell off while riding on the road.

And my motorbike and sidecar decided that it had no need for an ignition barrel while travelling down a dual carriageway.  The entire ignition barrel, and my keys, leapt out and bounced down the road when the vehicle went over a bump.

This, that I spotted on the walk down the hill this morning, however goes slightly further.  An entire exhaust collector box has become detached from something of pretty decent size.

Perhaps it isn't an exhaust collector box and my understanding is null and void, perhaps it's an Armadillo.

For official/internal use only:
7575

0-9

Day 284, Post industrial desk slavery

An internal voice shouts -

Will this battle against mediocrity never end.

Another internal voice responds -

Assuming there is such a thing as an objective definition of mediocrity then no, it will never end.

Internal voice - Let me have my rhetoric, you know what I mean.

Second internal voice - The problem with that is there is no point about what you are saying other than the theatre of it, how does it help.

Internal voice - But there is a point, it is also the question.

Second internal voice - Ok then, if it is a question then entropy suggests that the ending, the universal end, will be mediocre, therefore mediocrity will never end.

Internal voice - Oh shut up you pompous arse.

Second internal voice - Yes, to be fair that was reductionist.

Internal voice - I don't want to believe no matter what any of us do that the end will be that.

Second internal voice - Maybe not, so look at it from a different perspective.

Internal voice - Don't try and rationalise it with some pseudo-science.

Second internal voice - What we do now doesn't have to be mediocre, it is not necessarily mediocre even if apparently so, it is all subjective, wake every day and do the best you can, you will be content that your contribution to mediocrity was to counteract that of the underachiever.

Internal voice - If you've got any more home-spun wisdom and nauseating homilies please keep them to yourself.

Third internal voice - Stop pushing In Praise of Just Getting By*, how many times, it's been debunked.  What next, Holland Codes and Myers-Briggs, graphology, phrenology?  I despair.

Second internal voice - If you don't wish to take advantage of what's available then that's up to you.

Third internal voice - Don't try and shift the responsibility with your sleight of hand, we can see through you.

Internal voice - If only that were the case.

Factory facade

*A fictitious self-help book on how to increase productivity, subtly targeted at those that believe that everybody can be above average.

For official/internal use only:
7473

0-9

Day 283, Lost key, spacecraft delusion

It can be a painful inconvenience to mislay your car keys at any time, so imagine the inconvenience when you mislay the keys to your spaceship.

I was changing the battery of the spacecraft key - they take those ridiculously fiddly hearing aid batteries, it’s a source of frustration throughout the universe - when there was a knock on the door from The Men From Porlock.

Well, The Men From Porlock can talk, they are famed for the hallucinogenic properties of their speech. Any conversation with them will prove a nightmare, their ability to infiltrate every crevice of your cranium, flooding your mind with vivid memories of the astro wars, flux gap particle accelerator explosions and of shiny guitars with galaxy burst paint jobs.

It was three days later when I came to, not knowing whether I was Arthur, Martha, Adam or Steve, and drinking real ale on a train through the dark peak listening to the high Elizabethan conversations of actual hard grained beer connoisseurs.

Eventually, once back at home after the most circuitous of journeys, the memory of what I had been doing before the door knock was completely erased. This is typical of The Men From Porlock and their galactic wide manifesto to spread confusion.

The key was completely forgotten. Only many moon cycles later did it dawn on me that the key had gone, no doubt dropped down the back of the cosmic sofa.

Now, at a time when it could prove to be of immense use, the time for my body MOT, it is still missing. After millennia there are some creaky bits, the spacecraft has the tools to instantly diagnose and repair any physical problem, pre-empting any of that doctoring guesswork. Yet here I am here, still trapped on earth, getting more rickety.

But hang on, what’s this I spot on my way down the hill.

It looks very like the key.

There are the chromium rectilinear facets.

There is the almost, but not quite, circular formation.

There is the blue light shining and triggering ancient memories of civilisations long lost.

Could it be, The Key?

On closer inspection however it turns out it's a child's hair band.

Bugger.

For official/internal use only:
6453

0-9

Day 282, The Power Plants

In conditions of rain, cold, and overall inclement environmental conditions not conducive to that of a pleasant summer, we may bury our heads.

But while our heads are buried many in the plucky plant world open the doors for the insect world to feast.

Flowers of all shapes and sizes are living it up mere centimetres from the front door of someone.  Cone shaped, bowl, bell, flat open, lipped, those with landing platforms and those like Monkshood which tickle the fancy of all specific types of bees.  They are there providing resources for the insect diaspora*.

Unfortunately we have none of those plants here other than dandelions, less exotic and exciting to us maybe but still of value to the insect world.

Here's a white flowered foxglove, former local plant, and like a sort of public house for bees.  They nip in for a swift one and then end up in there all afternoon.

Although on a day like today, where it is a tad wet, there isn't really that much activity at this perennial bar.

And in fact there aren't any of those outside at the moment either as the seeds I collected are still in a paper bag...

Anyway, what's with this 'The Power of Plants'?

It's written on the side of some of some of that deodorant stuff you get sent at Christmas.  I just noticed the container in the bathroom and am now using the phrase as a distraction while trying not to be dismayed by the weather.

Maybe with regard to the weather 'The Power of Pants' might be more appropriate.

*this is stretching the meaning somewhat.

For official/internal use only:
7374

0-9

Day 281, What to do in the event of... Alien invasion

The first in what might or might not be a series of useful tips on how to deal with potentially tricky situations.

Today:  What to do in the event of... Alien invasion

First of all, have you eaten or drunk anything that someone may have tampered with?  If that isn't the case then verify what you think is happening with another person, it is crucial at this point to rule out any form of psychological event that may have occurred to you alone.

So let's now assume that other people are experiencing this visual disturbance too.

Are the aliens definitely aliens?

Are you sure?

Really?  Are they not just people or animals dressed up to give the impression of being aliens?

Perhaps they are psychology students doing some sort of study.  This cannot be ruled out, aim to remain completely calm and act as though nothing unusual is happening.  They will eventually decide that they have enough evidence of British reserve and sang-froid and will bugger off and leave you alone.

Ok, if they aren't psychology students then the only obvious remaining answer is that they are aliens.  They may be friendly.  In fact you had better hope they are friendly because after all of that previous decision making and uncertainty has been taking place it's severely eaten into your 'running away' time.

If you are a particularly fast runner there might still be a chance.  Possibly, but only if you can distract them by pointing at something behind what you think might be their head and shouting "oh look, an earth virus potentially fatal to aliens," or "look, it's raining," or "it's the Doctor!"

Frankly though if you haven't taken cover at this point you are stuffed.  The only thing left is to use your best alien Polari, picked up from the actors in Old Compton Street, and intone "Klaatu barada nikto".

Then all should be well.

At least that's what Arthur Bostrom told me in the bar of The Queen's Hotel.

I think.

And there is The Queen's Hotel, shortly after alien attack.

For official/internal use only:
6262

0-9

Day 280, Worship at the car wash

Here is a sign that doesn't suggest that Jesus Christ will assist with cleaning your street-lodged status symbol, little tin God, or 'car' as you may call it.

My car just doesn't get washed, and I'm not expecting divine intervention to provide a wax finish any time soon.  

This sign is almost certainly part of some charity exercise.

Perhaps they even sang the Rose Royce song whilst doing some cleaning.

Although on second thoughts it seems unlikely that Car Wash would have been sung.

(Workin')
At the car wash
Workin' at the car wash, yeah
Come on and sing it with me
(Car wash)
Sing it with the feelin' y'all
(Car wash, yeah)


Contractual obligation, urgh.

For official/internal use only:
7272

0-9

Day 279, Gonna be a big wheel in this town, contractual obligation

Yeah, we're heading for the top.

Gonna be a big cheese.

The toppest of the toppermost.

The lynchpin.

The mainspring.

A nabob.

A heavy hitter.

Head honcho of the honcho academy of allied honchos.

The bigwig that has the biggest of the wigs.

No, wait...

Turns out it was literally an enormous, circular, non-sentient object rather than a noun for a powerful entity.

Hope you were nice to people on the way up, you can now wave to them on the way down.


Contractual obligation post - normal service will be resumed shortly.

For official/internal use only:
7272

0-9

Day 278, Waiting for a train

The internet is full of lists.

There are many lists of train songs.

There are even lists stating they are the "'n' best train songs".

But frankly, it's a matter of taste.

You might choose Flash and The Pan, Waiting For a Train, and fair enough it you like it.

Last Train to Clarksville by that boy band The Monkees is pretty ok.

But then there has to be a change of gear at some point, beyond the desolate platform of the commuting classes.

We can give a righteous shout out for Sister Rosetta Tharp and This Train is Bound for Glory, although I'm also very taken with the version by Big Bill Broonzy.

Of course Big Bill does another classic train song, John Henry.

There's an absolute train shed load of great tracks about trains.

However, if that list of train songs don't contain no mention of Folsom Prison Blues by Johnny Cash well heck then that list ain't worth jack shit.

No matter what your taste.

So here it is.

For official/internal use only:
7372

0-9

Day 277, The LASER rooms

Any super villain worth his or her salt will absolutely have a LASER.

If they are fancy-dan then they might also have some sort of super-heating plasma furnace style system for making diamonds, creating proto-life forms, or just generally supervillaining about.

If they are the capo di tutti fruiti of top super villain then they might have all of these things and have them SUB-GROUND!

Woaaaaaaahhhh.

The risk taken here to tell you about the SUB-GROUND FURNACE/LASER ROOMS is immense and probably cannot be stressed enough.

It was well risky innit, risky, like a real live danger of proportions of magnificent immensitude.

Has that stressed it enough yet?

So how does this completely un-super un-villain know about all of this stuff huh?  Perhaps it's all being made up and this is some cheap-tack Photoshop trickery at the hands of someone with limited skill.

Well no actually, it's much simpler than that.

As is often the case, the greatest secrets are always revealed by something quite mundane.

And anyway, someone has to change the fuses...

For official/internal use only:
6654

0-9

Day 276, Impressions of Marr

Everybody loves Andrew Marr the political commentator, journalist and broadcaster.

We love him so much that we have special 'Marr impersonation' moments in our home life.

Without notice or warning one or the other of us will launch into an impersonation of the distinguished character himself.

This has progressed so far now that like Cato in the Pink Panther films we are in danger of causing injury from the surprise eruptions of these Marr-moments.

To bring the excitement and energy level down to something more manageable, here is an example of my nascent drawing talent directed towards the same Marr purpose.

I do hope you enjoy it.

Er, something, something, Marrs attacks, a Marrs a Day, etc*.

*(Get the sub-editor to put some old jokes in, cheers, Andy.)

For official/internal use only:
6666

0-9

Day 275, Scotland, land of kilts

This was the view this morning from our bedroom window in the Ship Inn in Stonehaven.

It wasn't as gloomy as it looks here but there was some light rain, or smirr.  Otherwise it was very pleasant.

As an almost 100% vegetarian (occasional fish eater) it was my lot to eat some very lovely freshly caught fish, every day.  It was delightful.

The main purpose of the visit was for the wedding of my cousin.  And it was a most splendid do.  The speeches were excellent, the company was charming, there was food in abundance - and there were more kilts that you could shake a farcical re-enactment of William Wallace by an Australian and a load of extras at.

Now back home in Sheffield after a 7 hour train journey.  Fortunately we both like trains.

And even though we've been well fed over these last few days my stomach reckons it's about time there was some food presented to it.  So on with that.

A most braw weekend indeed.

For official/internal use only:
7777

0-9

Day 274, Bramall Lane past panorama

Date:  Saturday October 26 2002

Place:  The oldest stadium in the world still hosting professional football.

Event:  Sheffield United v Wimbledon

Information regarding the teams and the result:

Sheffield United
Paddy Kenny
Steve Yates
Robert Page
Shaun Murphy
Rob Kozluk
Phil Jagielka
Michael Brown (Yellow Card 66)
Jon-Paul McGovern
Michael Tonge
Grant Smith
Peter Ndlovu

Substitutions
Carl Asaba - Grant Smith - 46
Laurens Ten Heuval - Jon-Paul McGovern - 46
Michael Boulding - Peter Ndlovu - 78
Unused - McCall, Montgomery

Wimbledon
Kelvin Davis
Peter Hawkins
Rob Gier
Jermaine Darlington
Mikele Leigertwood
Darren Holloway
Nigel Reo-Coker
Jobi McAnuff
Trond Andersen (Yellow Card 31)
Neil Shipperley
David Connolly

Substitutions
Patrick Agyemang  (Yellow Card 86)  - David Connolly - 85
Wayne Gray - Jobi McAnuff - 90
Unused - Morgan, Francis, Heald

Sheffield United 1 - Wimbledon 1
Asaba - 90               Connolly - 12


13 years later it's interesting that the ticket prices haven't gone up as much as they have elsewhere.  Evidence for the small price difference is not currently close to hand but does exist.

This shows the ground a couple of hours before kick-off.

There's no hotel at this point, and no Westfield stand in the corner.

Panorama:  Wide angle view or representation of a physical space.

Instruction:  You'll need to select the image to see it at full size.

Match report:  It wasn't great.

For official/internal use only:
7777

0-9

Day 273, Glad we got that clear BT

Rummaging around in the detritus of modern life can reveal many things.

Sadly however it doesn't reveal what it was that made the communications burghers of BT think that this was a good idea.

Which is a shame, as surely we would all like to understand the thought process used here so that we can steer well clear of it.

If only they'd taken 5 or maybe 10 minutes to sit down in a room and discuss how to present this information.

Perhaps they could have emailed a draft version to colleagues to take a cursory glance over.

Maybe they did all of those things.

And still they came up with this bizarre existential conundrum.

Clearly it was much more important to let people know that they don't know their arse from their elbow, which is redundant information if you've ever had to deal with any arm of their broadband support.

Anyway, perhaps this version of BT Web Hosting no longer exists too - having been replaced by BT Web Hosting, not the same thing at all.

BT are a communications company.

For official/internal use only:
6777

0-9

Day 272, Overweight, overdressed, very nearly over the hill

Cycling is a really good fitness activity.  As is exemplified in the image below.

Or would be exemplified if the character in the hi-viz top weighed about 5 kilos lighter and was not covered in far too much clothing for a day of this heat.

Thinks - must work out how to dress correctly for the level of heat.

Let that be a lesson to us all, but particularly to me.

For official/internal use only:
4444

0-9

Day 271, Turn down the heat, let it rain

A darned fool dangling above a great drop.

Visions of mortality and a good deal more of mist.

As a respite from the intolerable heat we can see Matlock Bath here melting in the rain.

With any luck that should remind us all that no matter how hot it is there's always an opportunity to go camping and bring on torrential rain.

So think on, it's nicer to have a little warmth.

Did I call this Matlock Bath?  Nonsense, it's the Grand Canyon, as should be clear to anyone.

This view is taken from the dangly cable they've recently fired across the canyon by rocket.  Tourists, and general idiots, can climb across using the power of their hands.

Great innit.

Or you can float across in a sort of glass-container ovular type vehicle, which gives an unrealistic impression of safety.

Just down the road from here, around the corner, and along the Interstate for about 1051.9 miles, is Mount Rushmore.  If you squint you'll see it, or would be able to see it if it wasn't so darned hooten-tooten misty y'all.

That's probably how they talk in Colorado.

So there we have it, the weather.  Unpredictable isn't it, but don't say that to the met-office, ok?

For official/internal use only:
7777

0-9

Day 270, Here comes the summer

Here comes the summer

Here comes the summer

Here comes the summer

Those are the only words to that Undertones song that apply right now.  Consider them as a sort of chant, a sort of hurry up, so come on weather, sort it out.

And in the spirit of that here's a picture of Crookes Valley Park lake, formerly boating lake, formerly reservoir.

As you can see it was pretty sunny that day, it was delightful.

What we need is a return to that sort of vibe.

And that includes the big Kit Kat boat, let me have that (again), my promise is not to eat them all this time.

Every day, hot 'n sunny, bring it on.

Please.

For official/internal use only:
7777

0-9

Day 269, Fan pipe, let's get it out, break like the wind, etc

That's it, the Superlato Extractor System 222-015 MKI fabrique en Crookes.

Ready for the design council to sort out their award system and bestow some sort of gift.

Any day now James Dyson will be on the phone.

Trevor Baylis will be in touch to develop a wind-up version for the African Savanna.

But most of it will now be possible for soldering to take place without lead and flux fumes being vented straight up my nose causing irritation and poisoning.

This is a major contribution to electrical fabrication safety, and no mistake.

Above is internal view from the business, or suction, end.  Here we can see the supersize 10cm turbine blade inside the robust modular plastic support shroud.  The extension of the high-density cardboard tubing prevents ingestion of fingers and potential chafing of digits.

This external view shows some of the extendable washing-dryer vent-pipe, the 12vDC power connector, and the longitudinal view of the component arrangement.  Not forgetting the vast quantity of the secret ingredient used to make it robust and air tight, which is parcel tape.

The intake aperture can be reduced in size to increase the force of airflow over the working area.  All in all a very adaptable piece of kit - it can be rested alongside the work to present a side-vent extraction process, and it is possible to dangle the device from above, using an arrangement of pieces of string, to remove fumage in the manner of an inverted mistral wind.

Now onward to the testing.

For official/internal use only:
7777

0-9

Day 268, Rotund, middle aged, with a piss soaked pork pie hat

It was May 15 2009.

It was at the Ricoh Arena in Coventry.

It was a home-turf comeback tour by The Specials.

You have never seen so many middle aged men and women in pork pie hats in your puff.

The amount of energy created by these short and rotund people could have powered the entire stage rig.

It was red hot, the atmosphere was as thick as a Blackadder, Prince George simile.

The plastic pint pots of piss flew like laser guided nuggets of gold towards the wildly bouncing front of the crowd.

We hung well back, but breathed in the uriney vapour of over excited bald men anyway.

The place rocked, it was a great gig.

Let me introduce you to the set-list:

Do the Dog - (Rufus Thomas)

(Dawning of a) New Era 

Gangsters 

It's Up to You 

Rat Race 

Monkey Man - (Toots & The Maytals)

Blank Expression 

Too Hot - (Prince Buster )

Doesn't Make It Alright 

Concrete Jungle 

Friday Night, Saturday Morning 

Stereotype 

Man at C&A 

A Message to You, Rudy - (Dandy Livingstone)

Do Nothing 

Hey Little Rich Girl 

Little Bitch 

Nite Klub 

You're Wondering Now - (The Skatalites)

Ghost Town 

Encore:

Too Much Too Young 

Skinhead Symphony: Longshot Kick the Bucket / Liquidator / Skinhead Moonstomp 

Enjoy Yourself (It's Later Than You Think) - (Tommy Dorsey and his Orchestra)


No pork pie hat for me, no way, it would have to be the widest brimmed sombrero in either hemisphere, and waterproof too.

For official/internal use only:
6777

0-9