May 22, 2013
May 21, 2013
This post has no title
I can hear the traffic passing by below. A scooter accelerates. A lorry runs over something and its load clanks a little. The room is hot and I have the window open to let some fresh air in although it can hardly be described as fresh being, as I am, in central London. I’m on the fifth floor. I can imagine living here but not being able to see out beyond the top of the building opposite. I am left wondering about the traffic. Who is in the cars? Where have they come from and where are they going? The TV on the wall is switched off. I can now hear the beeping of a lorry reversing and the shout of a couple of workmen. One of them coughs. Otherwise it is just more traffic. It sounds as if someone is putting up scaffolding. Occasionally there is a metallic clank. I presume there are people below, walking to work. It is 7.43 am. Someone must start that early although I know a lot of Londoners are late starters so that they can avoid the worst of the rush hour crush. I never leave my room. It is my world, my prison. I can hear the traffic passing by below but I can’t see it.
May 19, 2013
3rd Law Part 30 – the hospital visit
There are lots of pictures on the wall in this room. Far more than we have in our house. There is an explanation for this. Pictures have a habit of being knocked off the wall by a robust and growing family. We still have a broken pane of glass in the window next to our front door. It’s covered in sellotape. It was an over enthusiastic chuck of a powerball that did it.
The problem is it is a small piece of glass in a window that is mostly stained glass. It’s been more hassle than either of us considered it worth to get it fixed. Also I’m not sure whether we would be able to find the same pattern so it would look a little different than the rest of the window though that isn’t really an excuse.
I had to smash the small pane of glass in the old downstairs loo once. Joe aged 2 had locked himself in and it was the only way we could get it open. It didn’t help that I had just come home from a funeral, or more specifically from the wake. The memory of the deceased had been toasted many times and I was expecting to get home and just crash out.
The minute I walked in the door Anne said “right I’m off out now” leaving me in charge of the young family. A 2 yo locking himself in the toilet was the last thing I needed. We went through a phase of “incidents” with the kids.
There was the time when the same 2yo shoved a currant up his nostril. It was at breakfast and I was sat opposite him and saw it go in. I can remember thinking to myself “that kid has just shoved a currant up his nose” in an incredulous manner. I couldn’t believe it. I took a look and thought I could just about see it but no way was I going to be able to get it out. Hmm. It was the last working day before Christmas and I had planned to nip in to the office to do my expenses (6 different currencies) then finish early.
Instead of going in to the office I ended up in A&E at Lincoln County Hospital. In all fairness to them because he was so young he was given priority. However none of the staff could see anything and questioned whether there was anything really there. This demanded some considerable self-belief on my part. I definitely saw the currant go in. I stuck with the story.
They referred us to the Ear Nose and Throat department. We started the queuing process again. After an hour in the ENT queue we finally for in to see the doc. She sounded Russian or similar. The same questions were asked. Is there really anything there? Eventually after some probing the doctor pulled out the currant that had swollen to its original grape size. Wow. That was quite some relief. Can you imagine walking around with a blockage the size of a grape up your nose?
I took the lad home and went in to the office to do my expenses. However by this time it was almost lunchtime. The expenses were going to take ages to do and in any event the finance department was shut and it would now not make any difference if I left it until after Christmas. So home I went.
The plan for the afternoon was to do the big Christmas shop. I had a long list and it took it and Joe to Tesco to begin the process. I had only put two items in the trolley when my mobile rang. It was head office in Canada. The company was in the middle of being sold and they had the lawyers on the phone wanting to discuss a specific aspect of the contract. My bit was the last bit before both sides could sign.
I spent the next hour discussing contracts whilst at the same time continuously moving around Tesco away from loudspeaker announcements and trying to stop young Joe from snatching at things on shelves from his seated position in the trolley. After an hour the conversation turned to chit chat and I said I had to go and continue my shopping.
A few minutes and only four or five more grocery items in the trolley the phone rang again. It was Anne. Was I going to be much longer? The other kids were getting restless and my services were required to take them swimming.
I aborted the mission and began again at 6am the next day at which time Tesco was heaving with like-minded people. The timing of the Christmas shop is critical. It’s a combination of getting the veg as close to Christmas as possible whilst avoiding the crowds. I remember one year at Waitrose the queues extended the full length of the shop at each till. Wtf!? The whole point of Waitrose is that there are seldom any queues because it is more expensive to shop there than Tesco. Keeps the masses away. Tescos can be a nightmare.
However I move on. I am not here to discuss the relative merits of different supermarkets. As it happens I am going to continue with the kids in distress theme. One Saturday our youngest rocked back on his chair at the kitchen table. Note a lot of the kid action seems to have been in the kitchen. If you are a parent I’m sure you will on many occasions have had to tell your kids not to rock back on their chair. So rock back on his chair he did and over went the chair.
His chin caught the table with a crack and blood started to pour everywhere. Here we go again!
At that moment the front doorbell went. It was a pal who had brought a trailer load of wood for the fire. Unfortunately I couldn’t hang around. I had to drive the ambulance. So I set off and left my pal to unload the trailer himself.
The service at the hospital was rapid and we returned an hour later with a plaster on the chin to find the friend still there having only just finished unloading the wood! Result really – not wanting to sound ungrateful!
The hospital visits, once a regular occurrence, seemed to have tailed off as the kids got older.
3rd Law part 29 here
3rd Law part 31 here
May 18, 2013
3rd Law Part 29 @harbour_lights cafe – a good old fashioned product in a modern world
Noises came from the kitchen. The dishwasher being unloaded. Ping of a glass and metallic clanking of cutlery. Mam whistling to herself. The occasional cough. Tap running. Footsteps up and down the wood floor. Kettle filling, lid on, click on. Zipadeedoodazipadeeday.
A cup of tea arrived. Slowly consumed. The brain still not really in gear though the day is not to be wasted. Outside it has stopped raining. After the tea a walk beckons. Down through the narrow streets to the promenade and then across the harbour footbridge to Fenella Beach, Peel Castle and the breakwater with its seagulls, seals and hopeful fishermen.
Looking out it looks as if it is still drizzling. I quite like drizzle although it can be a bit of a nuisance with the specs. Non spec wearers have no idea of the freedom that is walking in the rain without glasses on your face. Freeedommm.
Walking in the rain is all about attitude. You can treat the wet stuff as an uncomfortable nuisance or you can shrug it off and be its master.
There’s a nice little story that developed after the last few sentences. I wandered down into a drizzling Peel and made for The Harbour Lights Café. It’s one of my faves. A classic seaside café with a quality product and a very relaxing atmosphere. It’s the sort of place to go when it’s raining out and there isn’t that much else to do. You can almost picture the scene: the occasional umbrella walks past the window, the raindrops saunter down the glass, every now and then a car whooshes by, a pot of tea and a plate of crumpets arrives at your table.
On this occasion the Harbour Lights was closed. You can’t imagine my disappointment. A real wave of emotion came over me. I looked in through the windows and walked around the outside of the building. It took me a while to realise that I was early. It opened at 10am. The time was exactly 10am and it being, as you know, one of my fave caffs I was quite prepared to give it some leeway. As I crossed the road to the promenade a car pulled up and a girl got out and proceeded to unlock the front door.
I walked off and crossed to Fenella Beach and the breakwater. Not many people around. It was classic Manx weather. The day before had been beautifully sunny. Today we were back to mists and white topped seas. I was comfortable with this. At the beach there were some kids kitted out in safety gear clambering over the rocks with an instructor type. I wandered on to the breakwater and climbed the steps to look out over the water.
On other occasions I’ve been able to spot a basking shark from that position. Not today. Even the basking sharks were staying away. A couple of bikers, helmets in hand, walked around the castle and a bloke in an old Rover sat there smoking with the engine on. Turn it off man!
A fisherman was lowering scallop dredging kit onto his boat. I stopped for a chat. There is only two weeks of the season left. It starts again on November 1st. When you think about it the sea floor needs time to recover and for the creatures to bring on the next generation. A good haul is twenty bags on a trip but at this time of year you are lucky to come in with ten.
The rain spotted the lenses of my specs and I figured it was time to move on and back to the Harbour Lights. I got there at the same time as a young couple and sat at a table looking out onto the promenade. Tea and crumpets ordered I settled in to twitter availing myself of the caff’s free WiFi.
At this point I’ll let my tweets tell the story:
@tref: Live tweeting from @harbour_lights cafe on the prom in Peel using their free wifi. Crumpets & tea for brunch
@tref: @harbour_lights is one of my fave caffs.nice sitting here in the window watching the rain run down the glass
@tref: Listening to beegees muzak @harbour_lights – almost nodding off
@tref: Just seen the size of @harbour_lights special breakfast-huge. (I should be on commission here) J
That one was retweeted by @harbour_lights which was nice – I felt that the café was reaching out and engaging with me its customer.
@tref: There is no rush
@tref: This reminds me of my student days – sitting around all day drinking tea
At this point the waitress came and asked me if everything was ok and did I want some more hot water in my tea pot. I declined and said she could bring the bill whenever she was ready. A short while later she came back and said that the bill had been taken care of. The boss had rung up and said it was all on the house having seen my tweets.
@tref: Thanks @harbour_lights for brightening up a dank day & thanks for the tea and crumpets :))
I left the café with a smile on may face. That was a great experience. My suggestion of commission was a bit of fun – tongue in cheek. @harbour_lights is a good business. They understand how to build customer satisfaction and loyalty.
The smile stayed on my face all the way home through the rain.
It’s amazing the effect that a smile has you know. I passed one woman who smiled back at me. As I got towards the Whitehouse pub there was a bloke stood outside in his work gear having a cigarette. He smiled back at me. Not normally the sort of thing a grown bloke does to another bloke he doesn’t know.
I got into our close and took a photo of a violet that had self-seeded in a crack between some paving stones. I am reminded of the Tennyson poem “Flower in the crannied wall”:
Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower – but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
3rd Law Part 28 here
3rd Law Part 30 here
A Pokemon in the wild…
Back in July 2007 I went on holidays to Japan. Highly recommended by the way.
Walking around Tokyo I spotted this chap, stood patiently waiting for someone.
What got me about him was the fact that despite being quite obviously dressed as a Pokemon, no-one was really even fazed by it.
Nevertheless, It made for an interesting photograph.
May 15, 2013
3rd law Part 28 – Fenella Beach far away in time
My job is very boring I’m an office clerk. Not really. I was just singing along. It’s one of my favourite songs. I sing it when I’m at my parents in the Isle of Man. They live in the western fishing village of Peel near a beach called Fenella Beach. I go there early in the mornings before the others have got up and just watch. When I’m there I sing to myself, Fenella Beach, far away in time.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about I’m not going to explain. I’m not that kind of guy, Not very helpful. Find out for yourself. Peel has a wonderful ruined castle that looks down on Fenella Beach. There is also a breakwater where I sometime go fishing. Don’t really want to catch a fish. I just like chucking the line in and then reeling it back in. V relaxing.
When I’m there I use tinternet only when I’m on the wifi at Mam and Dad’s. The mobile roaming charges are a rip off. It doesn’t do me any harm. Time suddenly begins to slooowww down. The effects of the 3rd Law are nullified. I walk places, stop off in cafes for cups of tea. There is one in particular, the Harbour Lights Café on the promenade, that has a twitter account. If I can remember it I’ll let you know what the handle is. I looked for it but there are loads of “Harbour Lights” cafes on twitter. Funny that innit?
It’s a good name and the one in Peel is a classic British seaside caff. Good nosh. Only prob is that me mam is a great cook and it seems a little daft to eat out when I’m over there. The one exception is when we go for a curry in the Indian Restaurant around the corner. It’s a quality gaff, rhymes with caff but different. Possibly the best naan bread I’ve ever had and that’s saying something.
There’s also a pub called the Whitehouse which must be one of the best on the Isle of Man. It’s owned by local Real Ale Brewery Busheys. Dad only goes there when I’m over. This bit of the 3rdLaw seems more like a travel programme than an innovative stream of internet consciousness. Think spending time on TripAdvisor.
Not that I condone that spelling, advisor. Adviser. Hmm got myself confused now. Seems to be getting to be a regular thing when it comes to spelling. I used to care but I’m not so sure these days. The language is changing, probably faster right now than ever before. It’s not totally true to say I don’t care because I do really but we do take risks with language these days.
I’m running out of steam heeeerrrrreeee. Sllooowwwiiingggg riiigghhtt doowwnn aggaaiinn. It’s as if I’m already back on the island. Gosh! What can I say? Maybe I have telepathic powers. Maybe I can just think about a place and suddenly it’s as if I’m there. I can hear the seagulls and smell the spray as the waves crash against the rocks.
Camera suddenly pans to dramatic oceanscape. As it zooms in we notice a three masted sailing ship of the Lord Nelson variety. There only seem to be three people on board. They are standing around the wheel and look in a bad way. One of them is looking through his telescope and suddenly notices the Island up ahead. There is a flurry of movement suggesting that the surviving crew think that salvation is at hand.
The ship gets nearer and nearer until it eventually runs aground on the beach at Peel. It is early and there is no one around other than Trefor Davies who has been down to Fenella Beach for his usual morning look around. Finding the crew starving Davies takes them along the prom to the Harbour Light Café and treats them to a full cooked breakfast whereupon they proceed to tell him their story…
3rd Law Part 27 here
3rd Law Part 28 here
May 14, 2013
The god of the sea is unquestionably Neptune
The god of the sea is unquestionably Neptune. His court holds sway in the undredged depths beyond Atlantis, mid giant kelp forests where the stranger loses his mammalian way and sanity and coral reefs as beautiful as they are lethal.
Neptune has reigned unopposed for as long as rivers have emptied and before ambitious amphibian adventurers took their first brave steps out of the water onto the hostile rocks and beaches of the land beyond the foam.
He is usually pictured gripping a trident surrounded by his harem of mermaids. This is an accurate representation of life at the Neptunian court. Sea creatures of all sizes and descriptions swim thousands of miles to pay their respects and to enjoy the banquets and entertainments for which Neptune is rightly famous.
There are no bubbles of dissent. Within the confines of the palace giant octopii, killer whales and great white sharks mingle with the humblest shrimp and microplankton. Neptune is a strong and benevolent ruler. The peace of King Neptune is inviolable.
Only one thing troubles this vast undersea empire and that is man. The creatures of the deep first encountered man as an irritant. Man was weak and floundered in the watery environment but had an occasional nuisance value that was offset by the sweetness of stormy revenge. Man was more often the victim than the aggressor.
Man was also difficult to read. His wild mood swings made him at once an admiring friend and a killer. Man was on balance best avoided.
Man however spread as a weed on the surface of the water, extending its gangly tendrils to the sea bed with indiscriminate and industrialised killing. The court of Neptune is troubled. For the first time Neptune has no plan.
Neptune must rely on the actions of other gods who are unknown to him. In his blindness his court moves deeper and is yet safe but the clock counts down with every crash of wave on shore and the tension remains.
Above, the warning seagulls cry and the throb of the engine draws nearer…
May 12, 2013
3rd Law Part 27 – efficiency
It’s a funny old world innit. You have good times, bad times, calm days and days when the wind blows. I’ve noticed that the trees are noisy at this time of year when the wind blows. They have leaves that aren’t there during the winter and offer far more resistance. It’s a bit of a dual edged sword, leaves on trees. On the one hand they provide very welcome shade on hot sunny days. On the other hand they then proceed to deposit all the leaves on our lawn when they have done their job for the season.
It is a lot of clearing up for someone though not nearly as bad a job these days since we got the leaf blower. Anne loves to get the leaf blower out. If she spots more than one leaf on the front drive she whips it out and gets blowing. If it’s only one leaf she does that job manually. I felt compelled to add that caveat just in case you thought she was some nutter who has a compulsive disorder re tidying up leaves. She isn’t/doesn’t (your choice of good or poor grammar there).
She is pretty fanatical about keeping the house tidy though which isn’t a bad thing. It has led to some amusing incidents such as the time I was getting ready to go out and play rugby. I had taken a clean pair of jeans out of the drawer and disappeared out of the room for something. When I got back the jeans had gone – they were going round and round in the washing machine. Oops. Clean out of the drawer! That’s efficiency for you.
It’s a good watchword: efficiency. Defined as “the quality or property of being efficient” efficiency is used in many scenarios in our daily lives. It applies to the home environment as well as in business. An efficient home is a happy home (I assume) and an efficient business is a profitable business which usually in turn leads to happiness for the staff.
The biggest problem with that definition is that it assumes you know what “efficient” means. I imagine that most of you do but it might be interesting to see what definitions everyone came up with. I knew a guy called Jos at University in Bangor who did a PhD in Welsh Language and then got a job at the University compiling the latest edition of the Welsh Dictionary. They set him going on the letter P. At some stage there was a break in at his office at the uni and someone nicked his computer, including the letter P!!! He had to redo P from scratch, if you see what I mean, together with a few other letters that he had worked his way through.
The technology around at the time was not like it is today. No tinternet, no offsite backup and storage. Life must have trundled along at a delightfully slow pace. “What are you doing today?” “I’m on Ss today”, yawn, snore, snooze, sleep, somnambulant. Spot the odd one out. It isn’t a trick question.
There are however lots of trick questions to watch out for in life. Probably. Having made that statement I can’t quite think of one right now but if I do later on I’ll come back to it. Gotta move on. Can’t dwell. It would, in my opinion not be time well spent if I took the next few minutes to think of a suitable trick question. I could be doing something far more useful, like making a cup of tea which will then give me the opportunity to lab test the 3rd law again.
This 3rd Law must be the most lab tested law of the internet in the game. In fact it’s been thoroughly field tested an all. The an all reveals my roots. Not the Queen’s English but how many people actually speak “corgi”. Not many I tell you. As far as I know the 3rd Law is still the only Law of Tinternet though I am constantly on the lookout for others. Sometimes when I think I’ve found one it disappears in front of my very eyes.
Yes I do have very eyes. Some have blue, some are bloodshot but mine are very. Hows about that for a game of soldiers. I find that having very eyes can be a bit of a nuisance. It means I always have to wear a hat when it’s very sunny. At least it isn’t sunny all that often in the UK which is obviously a mixed blessing and not a hugely popular statement. Most of us want a bit of sunshine in our lives. It uplifts. Elevates, raises up.
I’ll match your cloudy day and raise you sunshine. In this case I would be wearing one of those peaked caps you see on card dealers in old FBI movies. That and sleeve clips or whatever they are called. Those things that people used to use to keep their sleeves up. Bit odd really because I don’t usually have a problem with my sleeves. Why didn’t they just buy shirts with the right length sleeves. Maybe they didn’t have the same range of sizes available to them in the old days. I quite liked the old collarless “grandad” shirts. You don’t see em around any more, at least not where I get my shirts from. Tbh I don’t buy many proper work shirts. I usually wear branded freebies. Makes it easy to decide what to wear for work. I have a choice between black and turquoise which doesn’t make it as difficult a decision as you might imagine because I don‘t really care which one I wear. It’s whatever is available and at the top of the pile in the wardrobe.
I have three shelves in my wardrobe. One for socks and underpants, one for tshirts and similar and one for jumpers. The bottom of the wardrobe is reserved for shoes and other odds and sods. It needs a bit of a clear out. I’m sure there are one or two single shoes in there that have lost their partners – don’t ask me how. Discarded in some clear out or other. It’s the way of things. You have to remove emotion from these decisions. Emotion means a house full of clutter, of old things you no longer really need but are reluctant to chuck in case one day they will be useful again.
Our attic is like that. I’m amazed we can even get up there though it is quite a large space. We have a really cool train set layout that unfortunately doesn’t really get used. Choo choo. Had the shelf for it built specially. It runs around the outside of the loft and must be 7m x 3m square or thereabouts. That’s a good size track with three loops and a bunch of sidings. I used to keep the record player up there but that has been purloined by a kid for his own use in his bedroom. Vinyl is the new sliced bread or similar – you know what I mean.
Ciao baby…
3rd Law Part 28 here
Previous 3rd Law post here
May 11, 2013
3rd Law Part 25 – the emotional rollercoaster
It’s one of those gentle rain on the conservatory roof days. We need the rain and I am reasonably happy for it to fall especially as I did all the outside jobs earlier. The rain on the roof is one of those highly relaxing sounds. It probably comes with gentle vibrations that make the difference. I’ve been down the cricket nets with Johnnyboy. Rain stopped our play and we retired to the clubhouse to stare out the big plate glass windows at the covers. Rain stop play is also very relaxing. Frustrating for the players I’m sure but hey. I’m in a selfish self-centred mood. Not a bad one and it isn’t affecting anyone else. It’s just that sometimes you have to think of yourself and not worry about the fact that twenty two players, a couple of umpires and the travelling entourage are sat there wondering when the darn rain will stop and they can get on with the game.
I quite like a bit of time on my own, looking out at the rain maybe or just stood at the bar in the Morning Star having a quiet pint. I get quite lonely if I am left on my own for too long such as when Anne takes the kids off to her folks for a few days whilst I am still at work. I can’t cope with it for too long as my tendency is to go out with the boys whilst she is away and that is totally knackering. Two nights out on the trot and now I’m dead.
That makes tonight dangerous as it will be the fourth night out on the trot and we are having a boozy Sunday lunch with friends the following day so it will make it even worse. Ah well. Such is life. Such is the hectic gadabout way we get on with things. Did you like that word gadabout. Not sure when I last heard it. It certainly isn’t in common usage these days. Sounds almost Shakespearean. Probably isn’t. I suspect it is a child of the fifties, introduced to lighten up the post world war two grey austerity of British society. A kind of bright pink word where everything else is in black and white. It survived the swinging sixties but has gradually grown obsolete as its hard core fanbase begins to die off.
Bit morbid all of a sudden and total nonsense of course. I do own a copy of the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary. Two magnificent volumes purchased from some book club or other when I was younger than today. I could look the word up there. However I am not really that bothered. I could also Google it which would be more in keeping with the nature of this work but again it doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to do it either. I want you to forever have the question in your head. “What is the origin of the word gadabout and is it still in common usage?”
I’m teasing you now. Playing with your emotions like a fisherman plays a salmon that dances out of the water and in a fit of furious pique at having been hooked, sets off on a direct line to the far bank. I don’t know how that particular story plays out because we leave the scene before it has finished. We never find out whether the fish was caught and if so how big it was. All we have is the memory of the ripple in the water heading away from us as we turn and walk on down the river bank to the bridge at the far end of the meadow and continue our journey.
It was definitely a meadow not a field. Meadow sounds much better. Field is too abrupt. The meadow may even have the odd cow quietly grazing, looking carelessly at the scene before her (note correct gender choice) before dropping her head to tear out another mouthful of the lush green grass. I can’t quite make out what sort of cow she is.
Definitely not a Friesian. I’d know a Friesian if I saw one. White with black patches, unless it’s black with white patches. It matters not. Also definitely not a doe eyed Jersey. That’s my description not the official name. A Jersey is just a Jersey. Not a pullover. It might have been a Hereford but we have now moved on and are now out of camera shot.
Over the rise we see a totally unexpected sight. It is a huge open cast mine. A real eyesore and not at all in keeping with the pleasant scene that we have just left. Large Toy trucks that from this distance look almost like ants carry vast quantities of ore to huge conveyor belts that disappear over the horizon. Your emotions are now confused, angry even. How can this have been allowed to happen. Well shit happens baby. Shit happens. Like I said I’m playing with you. There’s a lot going on in this scene. A brutal tattooed gangster holds a beautiful woman at knife point. What’s he going to do? A kid runs after his ball into the path of one of the giant trucks. The driver can’t see that low down…
Let’s look away. Don’t want any of this stuff. Give me nice. Give me laughter and the clink of glasses. Give me the sound and smell of a new born baby. Give me good news. I don’t want no crap.
I don’t know how this colloquial stuff crept in here. It’s not like me to say “I don’t want no crap”. I’m not from the Bronx or Yonkers or anywhere like that. I assume they say that sort of thing in the Bronx and Yonkers though you do have to ask yourself where on earth they got the name Yonkers. I’m not asking about Bronx. Bronx sounds plausible to me but Yonkers? Gimme a break will ya?
It’s getting a bit cold here. I might run a hot bath. We are off out tonight, as you know.
Part 24 ere
Part 25 ere
Lincoln A2Z L5 Ermine West
You can get lost in Ermine West without too much difficulty. Actually that is not true. I once took a wrong turning there and ended up nowhere. It was a mistake easily rectified and nothing was really lost other than a minute of my time spent retracing my steps, or wheel rotations as it happened to be. The steps or wheel rotations rewound I took a different turn and meandered my way from Riseholme Road to the Road of Burton whereupon I continued to the shops and the execution my errand which was so trivial I now struggle to remember its nature. There is nothing further of note to report.
sycamore sawn
You, most roguish of sycamores
shall not escape the fate of your siblings
mown dead with the first spring growth
of the recovering lawn.
The sanctuary of the hedge
no longer available
when you looked above the parapet,
were spotted and now lie sawn.
You shall not be remembered.
May 10, 2013
3rd Law Part 24 – trench digging to a degree
This morning I had the first hangover in quite some time. It was the morning after the book launch party. A long shower, a couple of pills and a bit more kip has sorted it and I am now on the way to London for a meeting feeling remarkably ok considering. I don’t think it was excessive intake of alcohol that was the problem. I was on lager shandy for most of the night. Adrenaline fuelled nervous tension told my brain to keep off the hard stuff early on but I guess that’s why I had a hangover – I was tired.
I’m sat on the train opposite a really attractive girl. This is a problem because I want to look at her but I don’t want her to think I’m looking at her. I need to have some shades on:) It’s ok. I have iron will. Not really – am burying myself in the laptop to take my mind elsewhere.
We are now approaching Grantham. It’s something one has to do when travelling to London. I could take an alternative route but Grantham isn’t that bad. It hasn’t got much going for it but it is harmless enough. Its only real significance today is that they will be coming round taking food orders after we have stopped at Grantham and so it is what is standing between me and a bacon sandwich. It’s just after 11am so it is more of a brunch than breakfast but that is fine. The downside is that it is a British Rail Bacon sandwich and as such just about meets the minimum trading standards requirements to be called a bacon sandwich. Also the only thing that the tea has going for it is that it is wet. I’m an ungrateful miseryguts I know but life is short you know. Why settle for second best?
It’s all about attitude. It’s also all about very interesting limestone rock formations I have just noticed in a cutting south of Grantham. Not totally sure about the limestone bit but in the absence of knowing any other suitable rock type it’s all you’re getting. Interesting rock formations are good. Other good and interesting things are available but for the moment that is all you’re getting.
Sheep are also interesting, and woolly, most of the time. They also taste nice when barbecued, ideally butterfly roasted after marinating in Delia Smith’s apricot bbq marinade. At least I think it was Delia. Might not have been her but frankly I don’t really care. It’s nice marinade. Now as these words spill onto the electronic page it does occur to me that the word marinating looks wrong. It feels as if it should be marinading to stay in keeping with marinade. However marinading shows up as a spelling mistake using Microsoft Word so it obviously can’t be right. Marinate as opposed to marinade also doesn’t sound right. Of course the difference here is verb and noun but the architects of the English language were treading a dangerous path here. They walked right up to the mirror of incompetence, stared it in the face for a few short seconds and then took a step back. It was a close run thing but they just about got away with it.
Now I’m not saying it is easy creating a language. There are an awful lot of words to invent. It takes real experts to come up with discombobulate or transubstantiation, to pluck but two classics out of nowhere. You can replace those with your own favourites. Anyone could come up with easy words such as lorry or sand. Languages are clearly created by teams of people with different skill levels and experience. For example you wouldn’t throw a new starter into a project to come up with albatross or equine. These are not massively difficult words that require your best brains but they aren’t what I’d call the low hanging fruit. I’d say you’d have to have a good five years’ experience before being given that kind of word to handle. At least two anyway, unless you were on some kind of graduate fast track and had already been on industrial placement during your time at university.
I’d say you definitely needed to be graduate calibre to get the job though, whether you had had any previous experience or not. At least in this day and age. When laying down the foundations of a whole culture it takes talent. I doubt that Shakespeare went to university but he was the exception not the rule. Plus it wasn’t so much the done thing in his day. Not like today where people get degrees in bricklaying and advance trench digging. There’s more to digging a trench than you’d think you know. A lot of physics involved, and geology, thinking back to the limestone cutting. It used to be that trench digging was pretty back breaking work. Not these days. Your newly graduated trench-digger is a pretty fussy individual. He or she insists on using their own hydraulic digger. It’s a bit like having a company car but different. In some parts of the world they even come air-conditioned. I imagine, though I have to fess up that I made that bit up. It’s just that it is an obvious progression.
Pick and shovel, digger, air-conditioned digger. Works for me. If I was going to be a trench laying engineer (for that should be the job title) I’d want my own digger and a radio and an internet connection. The digger should be able to steer itself using satnav so I could spend most of the time during boring jobs surfing tinterweb. The 3rd Law would ensure the time flew by so I could be getting paid whilst whiling away the time on Twitter or Facebook or whatever the latest trendy platform is.
Not Facebook. The stream doesn’t move quickly enough for me on Facebook. Twitter is more like it. Quick fire 140 characters bang bang bang with no commas. You don’t see commas on twitter very often as it’s a waste of a character nowotimean? I thought about writing a whole book using abbreviations or tweets but I assume someone has already done it. Doesn’t mean I couldn’t do it better but for the moment I have too much on my plate. Got a few of ‘em spinning, work plates and play plates. Don‘t want any of dem plates crashing noisily to the floor making everyone look up and at me to see what all the noise is about, nosiree. Bob.
I added that Bob as an afterthought. I assume it comes with a capital B and isn’t meant to be the type of bob that a ball does when floating in water and is pushed downwards by someone’s hand to watch it bob up again. Usually done by kids whiling away their long summer holidays not being able to think of anything more interesting to do. Bobbing, in this scenario is more interesting than doing large jigsaws because bobbing can take place outside which during the summer months, even in the UK, can be a very pleasant place to be. I offer no other alternatives to long vacation boredom here. Think of your own! I’m not your dad. Even if I was I’d probably still tell you to go outside and play or give Fred a call and see if he wants a knockabout with a footy. I’m not ringing him for you. You’re old enough to do it yourself.
I don’t know about you but personally I am always glad when the football season is over. It’s a sure fire sign that winter is over and summer is on its way. Only problem is these days the season seems to finish later and later and then start again sooner than feels right. What’s the point of the football season starting before the cricket season is over? Mid September is about right. The ground is starting to get softer and the days cooler. You don’t want to be playing football when it’s too hot, I’m telling you.
At least the cricket season has started before the end of the football season. It is the true sign of the arrival of summer even though every year we always have a bit of a laugh because there they are in their whites out in the middle wearing several layers because it is so wet and cold.
You don’t find many Freds around these days. I think I only know one and he lives in Canada which is a big country with big swings in its seasons. Canadian winters are long and I’d probably be happy to wait until the summer to play football, not that I am particularly a football fan. In Canada it would be acceptable for the football and cricket seasons to totally coincide. That is my definitive position on the subject. Full stop. And emphatic full stop in fact.
Can’t get any more emphatic than that. Think dramatic pause where everyone stops doing whatever they are doing and wonder what’s going to happen next. I have to tell you I don’t know myself. Whatever comes out comes out. I have no control over it. Drivel, impressive deep thinking, the lot. Thinking about it the deep thinking bit seems fairly unlikely but you never know do you? Eh? You will have to keep reading just in case the next page contains the most impressive, amusing and original stuff you’ve ever read in your short, sweet life. Note I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here and assuming that you have actually had a good life, thus far at least. Don’t read anything into the “short” bit. Everyone’s life is short in the great geological timeline scheme of things.
The more we drill into it it may be seen that the 3rd law gets everywhere, permeates every aspect of our lives. That’s the long and the short of it 🙂
3rd Law Part 23 here
3rd Law Part 25 ere
May 8, 2013
May 7, 2013
Book launch interview with @mrwilliam on BBC Radio Lincolnshire Part 2
How easy it is to self publish online and the part played by the internet in it all: promotion using social media, online resources for taking advanced orders for the book and the use of print on demand sites to provide merchandising such as tshirts, mugs and bags.
May 6, 2013
Book launch interview with @mrwilliam on BBC Radio Lincolnshire Part 1
The story behind how I started, how I started publishing under a pseudonym and then changed to my own name. Why I self published & how many people write poetry. I also read a couple of poems including “Swine Flu” and “A Night of Deep Reflection” and discuss how I find ideas.