March of the horse’nuts

Yes it’s that time of year again, when the horse-chestnuts are leafing, rising and growing with gusto and all still in the same pot.

This year a few extra layers of soil was added to keep them sufficiently bedded, and a good few litres of nutrients to compensate for the cramped conditions; but here’s the current progress in a few shots.

19th April 2011 – update

I decided to take some measurements to see how well they’ve come on (or not considering the sized pot they’re all in), and how long they’ll have to live before expiring, if not separated.

There are: 2 @ ~100cm, 2 at ~60cm, 2 at ~30cm and a straggler hovering around the 20cm mark; all measurements taken from the top of the soil.  The pot itself measures 34.5 cm inner diameter with a depth of 34.5cm, not exactly spacious for seven trees, but they haven’t died yet.   Now I just need to find a local group of ninja gardeners who’d know what do with at least five of them.

Strike 1 - census office

The much trumpeted last ever census ever to be conducted in the uk, because the country's too poor ever to attempt it again, promptly arrived on 27th March 2011.

Being an online-hawk (albeit with small wings that periodically furiously flap), I decided to complete the form on net a couple of days after receiving everything in the post, and well before the cut-off date which was officially highlighted in bold if my memory is to be believed.

I didn't, however, click that final submit button, as I had no idea whether anyone would be staying here at any time ever again, let alone overnight on the 27th March 2011.  The likelihood was no-one, but if forced to answer by having a pair of hot-tongs waved in front of my face, i'd have probably indicated whilst sweating profusely that the probability was 99.9999999% that no one would be.  In reality it turned out i was 100% correct, I was indeed here;  but at the time, a few weeks before the deadline, I didn't know; and wanting to be a dutiful citizen I specifically - especially after reading the blurb which said you could complete as much as possible, and then whatever you had filled in but not yet committed would be used as your answer - waited, before even thinking about pressing the 'button'.  A button presumably put there for clairvoyants.

So everything was filled in.  Apart from that bit, because I didn't know. After all it wasn't the 27th.

The 28th arrived.  I went, 'bugger!'

Imagine my surprise then when, on the 13th April 2011 (yesterday), whilst cursing my environment, the doorbell sprang into life.

Normally, after picking up the intercom, you're either blasted by wailing shrieks, squeaks, whistles or pops, as the "saw them coming" system on the one hand attempts to connect both ends via different communications protocols and magnificently fails, to the other of pretending it's not really a working system, and showers you in silence.

I knew something was up when I heard a crystal clear and chirpy voice pipe through the wires saying, "I'm sharna from the census office.  We don't have a record of you completing the census."

"What?" I retorted.  Thinking they're happy allowing their underlings to poison you, but don't fill in a form and its "oh, we'll be down on you like a truck of cement as obviously you're a naughty citizen, you, yes you!"

"I'm from the census office.  We haven't received your form."

"I filled it in online."

"You filled it in online?"

Oh and a parrot.

"Yes."

"Okay", a brief moment of hesitancy aimlessly drifted before the official sprang back to life.  “I'll mark it down then," and she was gone.

This was all undertaken via an intercom which normally decides it's not going to co-operate.  Think of the lifts in the hitchhikers guide, but far less friendly for most of the time.

Moral?  Always take a a hammer to something electro-mechanical, it saves fretting about it turning into skynet01.

The big bailout scam « Political Economy 101

"Meanwhile, the trillions poured into the big banks since 2008, instead of going to cash-starved small business or being used to build infrastructure and to create jobs, have largely helped fuel a new stock market bubble. The extraordinary rise in the value of companies such as Facebook and Zynga provides a worrying parallel with the dotcom bubble of 2000."

The big bailout scam « Political Economy 101

Moving on

The only thing worse than a whiner is a whiner who never shuts up.

So enough with the self-obsessed navel gazing.  It’s time to dig out the crystal and see what the remaining 3/4’s of the year has to offer…  damned tumbleweeds, get everywhere!

Neighbours of noise or simply noise averse?

When you briefly experience the wonderful peace and alacrity of quietness (don’t worry i’ll return to form shortly), it’s worth bearing in mind that unless you’re in a retreat - which is bored into the side of a mountain - that peace is just the minute gap before the next oncoming tide of a skyscraper-sized noise tsunami; especially when it involves fillies just out from uni and moving into their first flat together.

Heavy footfalls, high heels, stomping around, lots of ‘mates over’ are now de rigueur.  Which wouldn’t normally be a problem except in those (i.e., this) flat/house conversions, which once had luscious carpet covering the bareness but which greedy landlords ripped out, leaving exposed floorboards that people flock and ‘coo’ over, admiring the fact that they ‘look so pretty’, ignoring what doesn’t lay beneath.

Naturally provisions exist in leases precisely to alleviate this problem (generally), except when the vast majority of people are either unaware the problem their usually simple everyday noise is creating exists, or the issue is not brought to their attention; as opposed to any wilful or malicious intent.

So when you bring it to their attention, verbally and or formally, and the noise continues, you begin to wonder whether there’s more going on than an element of unawareness.  Perhaps it’s simply the case they don’t give a damn and further actions are nothing less than wilful maliciousness. 

A tedious probability?  As iterated to in the title; is it neighbours who are been noisy or am i just been overly sensitive?

Figures indicate that at least 95,000 (after doing a bit of research my previous use of 2 mn appears wildly wide of the uk mark and it should have been covering the  eu) people, have an issue with noise and noisy neighbours, severe and pressing enough that after spending years of battling, grinds them into moving for the sake of their health.  Because as satisfying as fighting your corner is, every now and then there comes a time when you ponder why you’re still bashing your head against a brick wall.  Then as dizziness caused by exsanguination starts to take its toll, you realise the two-steps towards resolution you thought you were making, actually turns out to be you moving backwards, at a rapid rate of knots.  It’s just the flashing change of scenery which has confused you.

I’m one of those stubborn folk – something which happens when you live next to an increasingly noisy venue, and next to a stand with an increasing number of buses utilising the stand without drivers switching off their engines, and now with added noisy neighbour icing; that you either throw your hands in the air, give up and move on, or fiercely dig your heels in (as opposed to down - as the current clippity-clopping neighbours above are prone to do) and say enough really is enough. 

Everything (on paper at least) says this shouldn’t be happening.  So why have other leaseholders simply let things slide?  Because it’s easier than putting up a struggle.  Especially when it seems to be an on-going struggle with seemingly no end in sight. 

Yet, one resident who has dug his heels in over a compactor placed against the party wall (somehow allowed by the council) has managed to have it removed.  Yes, an industrial sized rubbish compactor that members of staff at the venue and its operators took extreme pleasure in assuring caused as much physically noise as possible – bar bashing it into the wall, was placed within touching distance of flats, and neither they nor the council could understand that residents had a problem with it.

When it comes to the care of resident’s hearing and ability to get a decent nights sleep, it seems conservative run boroughs (from the evidence so far) appear to stand miles above labour or liberal run boroughs – which is odd, considering how much we’re constantly bombarded with the message that labour councils are for the people – which i suppose they are, except when it comes to residents managing to obtain a good nights sleep.

Now the problem with many british flats, homes and apartments is that way too many of them were built at a time when it was the genteel thing to generally not carry on unless you lived in the slums - where that sort of behaviour was expected.  Over the years slum areas were destroyed and re-built with better looking but still (by today's sound standards) crummy sound considerations, where anything over and beyond the sound of brushing your teeth’s magnified to a point where simon bates would be using a pile-driver and not a knife.

In today's world, many in the west would like to think we’re remarkably  civilised, yet reality shows the law of the jungle and a dog-eat-dog mentality is in force, well, and flourishing greater than ever.

For those of a mind to know more, noise action week is rapidly approaching.

Nothing ever changes

Meeting, chatting, shooting the breeze and going out, i.e. dating are things which have interested me less and less;  so much so i’m now roughly 95% (give or take a percentage point) different in my social and even personal behaviour, which is odd, as nothing ever changes!

Perhaps i haven’t stopped smoking 40 a day, nor drinking half a brewery, nor clubbing from dawn until dusk and having more encounters in a week than people had in year.  No, if parallel universes do exist i probably haven’t stopped doing any of those pleasurable (at the time) things at all, but which now - in this particular theoretical brane at any rate, no-longer holds any alluring interest.  Which can’t be, as that indicates that a change, a definite change - as i no longer do any of those things, has taken place in this one. 

Day does not turn into night.  The movement of the planet’s atmosphere is not occurring because the earth isn’t spinning and neither are there hot nor cold areas as every area’s the same.  Because nothing ever changes.  Indeed I can’t be typing this as that would imply some chemical and or mechanical changes must be taking place to bring this about, which can’t be, as nothing ever changes, so therefore it isn’t. 

Indeed you, my dear reader can’t be a reader, as reading  this would once again infer something (in this case photons) are changing in their position, hitting your retina and causing electrical changes to be transmitted through nerve endings to the chemical goop encased in your cranium, or being transformed (changed) into signals which are then electrically transmitted (electrons changing in position) as sound.  All indicating some type of process, which would surely mean some sort of change was or is or has taken place?

No of course not, as nothing ever changes. 

Everything remains the same and we’re not in an expanding universe because the big bang never happened - as shown by this momentary fevered dalliance with reality, which is nothing more than the idle burp of some sleeping deity; which can’t be the case, as that too would indicate something has changed, and as we know, nothing ever changes, so the above assumptions are simply just nonsense, which is itself a change so therefore cannot be true.

We’re born (which we really can’t be as that too would involve change) with exactly the same ideas that we cling onto as we grow and mature (but how can that be if we never change), until we reach some mythical point of existence to decide, or not, to pop out of this never changing, never expanding stage of being.  Which is never ever changing anyway because there is never any change.

Perhaps it’s a transformational phase? 

Next: noisy neighbours part i

Man the sound ‘parts!

Ah yes summer-time has arrived, the clocks have gone forward, easter’s nearly here and obtaining a decent nights sleep over a weekend (or even during the week) disappears up brixton academy’s chuff.

Yes, brixton academy is once more expelling audio fumes from its backside and causing sleepless nights to residents in the immediate vicinity… deploy the noise officers, who use a very strange subjective level of measurement (or they did until retirement set in), which would see a church paraded through the courts at the complaint and behest of a couple of people over a month or so; yet in this triangle complaints have been salvoed to the council for years and the only change (which i’ve perceived) is an increase in the deep bass frequencies we’re bombarded with, more events, and more of them finishing after midnight.

How loud?  See the many previous posts.

But when you wear ear-plugs which are then covered by headphones, through which one is listening to loud audio, and whilst unable to hear the clipity-clopping of neighbours above but can still hear music from the venue despite all windows & doors closed, then in my very small book of certainties, that classifies as loud!

This morning I discovered I wasn’t the only one who had come to the conclusion that the noise was extreme.  During the night other residents had also objected to the council.  Which makes me wonder about todays benefit.  If the venue produces more vibrations than the country experiences in a year, then (and i could be showing a cynical mind here) how is it capable of considerate action towards those unfortunate souls in the earthquake/tsunami/nuclear fall-out zones – with it simply not sounding like there’s a kerching sound attached?

Instead of paying £40 or more (with the touts in operation) to the greedy lot above, and partying over the deaths of thousands; contemplate on the randomness of it all, say a few words for them, and donate instead.

Godless tsunamis

So after the earthquake, tsunami and nuclear cloud making its way around the world, we now have a russian director saying god did it to them.


Not sure why god (unless it's an acronym for something far more sinister and other-worldly - as we’re being conditioned to believe anything otherworldy’s out to treat us as food - that's operating out of a quantum-bridged molehill somewhere), would decide the time was right to particularly smite the north-east japanese over, say, territory controlled by russian or italian mafia or colombian drug-lords, or even politicians - of most countries - or the billionaires fleecing the world economy and making the vast majority poorer by any stretch of inflationary hyperbole.

Indeed by that former stretch, nikita sergeevich mikhalkov imaginary smiting machine should by now have summoned forth a volcano the size of olympus mons, which in burping forth its damndest destroyed most of western europe (or at least the city of london), with yellowstone following close behind in its fiftieth year of birth-pangs.

We should i presume be lucky in counting nikita sergeevich mikhalkov imaginary smiting machine as indeed imaginary, otherwise this rock would now be a lifeless parchment of baked real-estate, circling a constantly enraged and broiling red star minus anything worthwhile to smite... oh i see, we're the smitebots!

Hue & cry

On the one hand: london shooting leaves girl, 5, and man in critical condition, 117 killings took place 2009-2010; whilst on the other: 5,000 londoners die of pollution a year.

Which figures are you more frightened and scared of?

Heaven nirvana sto'vo'ko forefend

Just for a moment, consider.

Why would any being (who wasn’t narcissistically looking at themselves through their nether regions or a complete control freak) who created trillions of fast moving objects, start smiting the inhabitants of one trillionth of a trillion or some other small number on a spinning ball of mud in a backwater of a galaxy which will soon (in universal time) smash into another galaxy of similar size, which will reset those galaxies biological clocks to zero unless any sentient and intelligent inhabitants pop out and off sometime before that all takes place, be concerned whether those inhabitants pay him/her/it any obsequious homage whatsoever, or even be bothered if they knew he/she/it existed?

I can create a black hole, but you aren’t paying me a tenth of your earnings - so you’ll burn in everlasting fire, and so on.  Sounds like something a financier would dream up…

Perhaps the creator so many religionists' believe in started life as a banker!

4 something lighter

Every now and then something pops along, crossing my scrubbed vision and warped but strangely playful mind.

Not a regular listener of nine inch nails, nor 50 cent; but this particular mashup combo had me tapping the slightly less jaundiced leg in a semblance of time for quite a couple of days, before the novelty disappeared into a puff of diesel fumes.

TfL and the pyres of fire

I tried not posting, but just couldn’t help myself.


First off, thoughts to all of those caught under the triple hit in Japan.  I seriously doubt many other country’s citizens would have behaved so, civilised, when faced with such calamities.

Second, getting ready to eat my hat, as those wringing nations might actually do something before the last squeaking cry of freedom is extinguished in libya.  Just leaves china, saudi arabia, zimbabwe, ivory coast, north korea, or just any country where peoples have demonstrated the exact same cry as those in libya, but whom are without any strategic value whatsoever, and the international community simply defends them  because it’s the right thing to do…

Oh yes, back to tfl.

I have arrived at the sunny conclusion that tfl cares not one jot, not a single dried fig, for the residents haplessly caught in the vicinity of imposed bus stands (and not, in case some people get confused, bus stops) otherwise residents would not be up in arms over those drivers who intransigently continue to sit idling at the stand with their vehicles engines ticking over, and belching bilious clouds of pollution in all directions -as though fossil fuels would last until the end of time!

As my attempts at burning bridges, and detonating the struts and supports has been 98% successful, I spend some of that newly released time looking up stuff from all over the globe trying to see a whole.  In this case, I have taken to looking at air quality measurement snapshots every couple of hours for the area south of the river, with findings pointing to the fact that when the wind direction’s from the n, nne, or nnw, the measurement at the station is higher when compared to its nearest neighbouring stations (actually to most of them), whilst the air in the 0-50m zone smells as though you’ve attached a hose to the exhaust of your car, and left the engine on with the window half open.  Sadly our windows are closed; but with hundreds of bus terminations at the stand and most with their their engines left running for up to 20 minutes, we’re forced to breathe in more toxic vapour than a smoker on  40+ cigarettes a day.

Don’t forget, it was only 4,300 people who died in london last year from air pollution, yet look at the fuss government makes about potential terrorists under the bed when their own actions kill far more of their own citizens!  So who’s going to mind if a few more pesky troublesomes are added to the pyre; obviously, so far, no-one.  Although i’d imagine if 4,300 young londoners were shooting and stabbing each other in a frenzy of blood letting, the papers would be wetting themselves in a virtuous circle of vexatious apoplexy, and a national emergency called.

Court action would appear to be the only option, as polite diplomacy’s turned out to be a dead-duck.  Everyone (in authority) tells us it shouldn’t be happening, the drivers know it shouldn’t be happening -when they know they’re been monitored they practically glide into the stand, switch off their engines the minute their vehicle comes to a stop, and glide out of the stand when it’s time to start their route.  Once monitoring has ceased engines are again at full throttle (amazing how word gets around); but the report back to hq says how wonderfully quiet everything is.

If tfl were a neighbour they’d be done for poisoning with careless intent and the proud owner of an arm-full of tattooed asbos’ they’d no doubt be proudly showing off at every opportunity.

So tfl’s new motto?  We would care, if we could give a…

Queen bee

A bee, which at this time of year and by its size alone makes it a queen bee, flew from behind the radiator before being liberated into the poisonous air of lambeth.

I was happily minding my own business, alternating between the disasters in sendai, the murder fields of ivory coast and the blood-letting in libya (watch the soon to be hand-wringing of pious nations) after mg gains full-control, and listening to the low level of corporate convictions when it comes to manslaughter, when what sounded like a small helicopter taking off filled the room. 

Indeed it was.  A queen bee had popped from god knows where, as all the holes (bar any behind the radiator) have over the past few years been studiously filled, and i seriously doubt it had silently crawled in through the open window in the bathroom at the back of the property to launch itself from the floor,once it had reached the front room!

Initial thoughts of squashing it quickly fled, as despite my apparent general loathing of humanity (which really isn’t the case), I do like and enjoy nature as long as it isn’t crawling all over me or trying to consume me; so i quickly thought about retrieving a glass bottle before it disappeared from sight somewhere, when it buzzed up a storm zooming up the net, eventually becoming trapped between it and the window until I opened the window allowing its flight to freedom - once it traversed one of the most polluted roads in london.

Ah yes proof…

Moment

Use the moment well.

Laws of the righteous

“Hm, blasphemy laws... innovative legislation protecting the existence of the imaginary all powerful from those unworthy to wash his armpits - let alone gaze on his physog, by the fanatical but misguided deluded.”

Potty about poet’s poety

Hope for wee lesser morsels after all!

Obvious picture reference?

2011–the missed years

“Happy 2011… what do you mean it’s gone, and i’ve been asleep?

Happy 2012”

Oh the peace (relative) and joy of xmas

The one time of year when there’s no blasted buses with incontinent bus drivers incapable of switching off their engines (regardless of winter, spring, summer autumn) , no squeals of engines nor the grating sound of brakes as they park up, no belching clouds of smoke nor invisible clouds of cancerous gas, no noise, no pollution, no vibrations to worry about. 

However in 2011, we shall be concentrating on recording the offending drivers and officials who feel above the regulations (there to not annoy residents) they appear happy to flout!

So to all able to enjoy or not this time, peace and happiness to one and all.

Seasonal greets

Xmas?

Oh dear, that time of year’s once more arrived. 

Now that I managed to squeak my assessment in before the deadline, I can devote a bit of time to conjure up some imagery that conveys the finest of my thoughts on the prickly season!

Keep the leaks alive!

Wikileaks in switzerland - http://46.59.1.2/

Jobsworth

“…we’re living in an age of the jobsworths.  Whom if they momentarily thought outside of their hide-bound heads, would explode in a shower of glittery shiny sparks.”

Gritty U's

Sigh, what to say about sgu?
Brilliant.  Excellent character portrayals, a nice departure from its sugar-coated predecessors.   For those who have never seen its predecessors, using the current sgu series as a benchmark would leave you pondering whether the entire franchise encompasses nothing but doom and gloom, whilst the cast are all trying to romp back home in a holed handcart; all firmly held in a rigid fist that's squeezing the bejesus out of them before spitting the remnants like so much used sticky nasty tobacco - and that's in a happy episode!
This (series) is/was turning out to be one of my favourties sg's, and they'd better ensure there's a sufficient number of series's down the pipeline to keep us stalwart gits happy  - otherwise, executives, a crate of kinos'll be shoved into places the sun doesn't have any place shining  - nicely of course!

Leave of absence

I have temporarily taken a leave of absence from the linux world as i've been extensively using w7 on a new laptop; the experience has, so far, proven remarkably reasonable - obviously much has been purloined from both mac and linux worlds but i have so far being amazed that the os (a msoft piece of work) hasn't yet fallen over - seven days and counting.
Despite the aura of reasonableness i shall (once the hdd is upgraded) dual boot with a linux distro, if only because i have this nagging suspicion that eventually something will happen on the w7 side that will entail me losing everything i may have forgotten to back-up.
Unlike linux which can work on a sixpence, w7 is a resource hog.  However, i could finally get around to ditching xp in favour of w7, eventually.

Tagged

It probably won't be long before we (poor people) are forced to have one. After all, it would be far cheaper than having to send out cards or keys, or fiddle around and about with id papers - simply pop into your local iap (identification access point), wave your hand over a screen that instantly updates and authorises you, synchronising your identity and all your information.

Handy for when you've succumbed to that "one for the road" tipple and need to be dragged from a hedge by the emergency services!

Oddities

Not sure that i'm totally content with scribefire as a windows writer replacement (one of the rapidly shrinking products that i still miss from the windows world), as it's handling of pages, images and general formatting, still isn't quite there - passable for basic stuff, unless your fully conversant with html, but for those who faint at the first sight of a command-like line, it's not quite there.

Noises from the arse-end!

Apart from the odd bit of chewing gum thrown into the garden, takeway boxes and the like, oh yes the increasing boy-racers (according to the recordings), and buses braking for all their worth with engines on and still idling and about as environmentally friendly as any suv (showing once more that tfl are talking out their end, yet again) , an all-nighter soon to be on at the venue, et all... apart from all of that, i'm feeling chipper. 

Perhaps it's nothing more than the taste of winter around the corner.

The new same old difference

Let the games begin...

Bonfire of the sensibilities

Hack and slash and burn, and make them pay, and cut cut cut!

If you're poor that is, or struggling by.

An extra 2.5% of costs will be added onto anything already at 17.5%: clothes, prepared foods, telecoms; if you're budget is already 100%, spoken for, what options apart from reduction in food, or clothes do you have?  There are already 75* people chasing every job vacancy, so even if you have a first in higher humanities tuff luck and will soon be donning your new condem puce one-size fits all jumpsuit, showing that you are not only helping the community by working for your benefit, but checked to ensure that your bags are packed (for when your number's up), and they ship you out to the most pest infested, damp rotted, single-glazed, asbo condemned, cctv covered, tourist free, locations in the country!

Welcome to the brand new world of dickens.  Tour guides not required.

Outside?

"You do realise there's a world outside?"

"Only in your dark fevered imagination."

Vibrating ninnies

When numerous residential properties are subject to vibrations causing cracks to appear, due to deep intense vibrations from a club venue, and its associated acts usage of coaches parked less than 9ft from residents premises, and after growing complaints from residents - many of whom have lived here for years - you really would think a council would take a pro-active stance, that a council would even turn up and take not only normal 'a' or 'c' weighted measurements but also conduct specific low frequency analysis so keeping up with the increasing trend for deep low bass bone-jarring music replacing the normal higher dulcet tones as venues side-step noise regulations by not peaking the previous and now outdated normal monitoring ranges.

Indeed, as low frequency travels further through the ground and structures, a growing tide of disaffected residents should provide sufficient stimulus so that officers can finally show that they really are looking out for the 'little wee guys'; instead of which, here we appear to be the meat flung to the lions.

Perhaps concern for residents is the norm in many other boroughs.  Even in this one, reports of churches and bars being taken to court, shows such concern obviously occurs here too - except for (and i might have mentioned it before) this peculiar little triangle, where the cry seems more akin to "liquidate the residents, especially those who dare complain", and as staff boy racers treat the little street like a race track, the venue treats the area like an open air park, bus drivers  treat it like an exhaust testing site, and coaches for acts at the venue treat it like a vibration testing pad, i sometimes wonder what role the old ted knight & co's days played in rendering the situation as badly as it is.

One good thing appears to be coming out of this (if having your health harmed can be viewed as a good thing), is my decision to do an environmental course; so i can work out - instead of just wondering - exactly who officers in environmental departments are supposed to be protecting, as in this case they don't appear to give a damn about the people who live here.

A case in point.  What effect does a 12+ ton coach have, when parked less than 9ft from your living room, with engine on and running for hours at a time with associated vibrations and belching out noxious exhaust?  

Sadly despite numerous years of complaints to the council, apparently not one measurement has been taken by them, as apparently there is no records showing that any complaint has been investigated, that any visit to the premise has been done, that any action by the council has occured (over 20 years), nothing. So a quick peek, at a foi request, showed up. Nothing. We both sat there in hysterics at the slapstick nature of it all.  But there is, however, an air monitoring station on the main road where the nearest residential property is hundreds of metres away.  Naturally they could have positioned it down and round the corner, but do you really want residents to know just how badly polluted the area really is? After all, they might want you to do something.

You generally can't expect an entertainment venue to do or know any better, it's like a dog that has the urge to lick, it does what it does.  The council on the other hand should.

Argos

It was refreshing realising the world outside's quite (or can be) nice.

I sent an email off to argos after browsing their site and a pc caught my eye with large screen, and enough functionality to mean i can, briefly, escape the clutches of the bermuda triangle.  Sadly it had windows 7 installed.

Now i'm neither a windows hater (really) or mac fanboy, or linux diehard but it gets cumbersome when you can throw a dice as to when your os decides to go belly-up, and with windows it happens far too often.  With my linux mint setup it has only failed to play ball once and  had to be rebooted and that's in over 10 months use, the last time i booted into the xp side it stayed up for all of 2 hours before falling over.

The thing with windows is that it needs defraging every two seconds, numerous virus-checkers (auto & manual) to help your chances of missing something nasty, anti-malware/spamware/drive by download/rootkit/etc., and cleaned regularly, and that's before you can start to breath easy.

Life really is too short to have to continually hunt around for something that's screwed with your system, unless you do it for living, enjoy the challenge from time to time, or simply wish to get down and in-depth with your bits of metal; but not when you're intensely in the middle of something and it decides to go poof!

Not only that but i'm looking for something i can easily carry and read and use and upgrade when i wish to without having to send it on a round the world cruise or have some dodgy repair merchant browsing my all my files.  

Where was i? Ah yes, argos.  

I was impressed after reciving a call (not an email) from an argos staff member saying "they didn't supply the system without the os, as they had a deal with the manufacturer and it comes pre-installed."  A very friendly and knowledgable member of staff who also told me of the problems he had when he wanted to do a similar thing.

That reminded me of a staff member in a financial company on the phone who went from trying to sell me a product to  spending 30 minutes  wanting to make a career change as he was "tired and disillusioned with the crap he had to go through every day."

If you're out there do it!  Send that script in to them and set up a videocast.  You have nothing to lose.

 

So argos, four happy tabs are pinned on your earnest friendly technical call staff member.  It would have been five, but, you just couldn't kick the windows habit.

Google car?

It was delightful watching the google car, thoughts immediately turned to...  a google bus!

A bus where engines are switched off when it's stationary at the terminus, but then it wouldn't need to terminate as it could run all the time until it needs servicing; where it then automatically makes its way to the garage for a service - no having to take a tea break nor toilet break - and with decent manufacturing behind it, able to practically run 23/7 without pay or holidays... wonder when we'll see the first one.  Could this be the start of happy days, who needs to be told?

But wait a moment as I pop on my noise-cancelling headphones with internal bass boost which cut down all the noisy street noise to the level of squeaking mice.  With this on, the only time I know a noise-machine is going past is a slight increase in the vibrations tickling my feet - at least I know there's still some circulation occurring in those stubby trunks, and if i do hear it, then the blighters will obviously be deaf in a few months time - hurrah!

I remember commenting somewhere that this little triangle has more akin to the wild west.  But over the past months that's changed.  It is actually the wild west enmeshed in an episode of the twilight zone, where a strange number of people really are, very, very strange.

Global handwashing and the poops of doom!

Well, the other day was global handwashing day, and still the message seems to be lost, but then in those parts of the world where people have to choose between using water to wash their hands, or water to drink, then can you really blame them for not doing so, instead of those who treat everything as a commodity including human lives?

I remember many years ago when still an ardent clubber with legs that moved, that - regardless of my unsteady gait - after every visit to a toilet (restroom), on the way out i'd ensure i my hands were washed; even if every other part of me was liberally flinging dancing sweat as far as my flailing arms would carry them.  Amusing, but certainly not nice.  Even then - however briefly - i started to notice whilst waiting for those lines to go down that fellow clubbers who would be in and out without the slightest momentary glance at the washbasin area; regardless of whether they'd visited the urinals, or spent hours worshipping the ceramic, or enjoying those other things which never required the necessity of placing hands anywhere near genitalia and so never required the closer inspection of soap and water.  

Talking of poop.  During a quick clean out to remove dust-bunnies and using the time to do some re-arranging, i noticed a can of 'paint & varnish remover' festooned with bubbles speckling its lower half.  Cursing spiders for their pooings, I used some diluted bleach to remove the offending bits, only to find the spiders poop had seemingly eaten through the paint and metal allowing the contents to slowly but surely seep out.  Either that or the contents of the can had possibly become more toxic over the months and eaten through, or the two had conspired to combine and decided to create the holes on purpose! 

At this juncture, i believe it is the first option, as the shape and distribution of the dots lend themselves far more favourably to that more plausible scenario especially as the area was rife with webs and dessicated spiders before been flushed, instead of both the spider poo and the varnish remover suddenly having a life all of their own. 

 

Know it alls

You know when you're on the right track when those who should measure, fail to measure, decide to pro-actively work out how not to measure, indeed find every possible method of not having to be anywhere near the place to measure, as measuring would show how short of the mark they've fallen.

On the other hand if those who should measure do, and find nothing, then they will have done their duty and it's simply down to the delicate nature of those who live in the vicinity.

Jingle bug!

Seven more posts and i’ll have bested my earlier years postings of bilge, showing just what tripe they truly are.

Luckily, it’s rapidly entering that time of year where, instead of me expressing the caustic delights of my existence through the badly mangled utterances of my mother tongue, i’ll be expressing those delights through the medium of 20 odd wonderful pictograms, all effusing with wonderment at the joyous celebratory humbug… ha, haha, hahahahahahaha!

Sound booms

It's interesting to note that the sort of sound that can sway buildings, that can crack structures, that causes your whole body to vibrate, is - according to lambeth council - more than acceptable to output and so what if it's inflicted on residents who stand in the way of- what's that green stuff?

Now where's my lfnsa...

Lest we forget

"I'm all for states buying stuff up and helping capitalism." - Courtesy fox news presenter.

Coughing buses

It seems i'm stuck in a theme of which there's nothing wrong, just as long as i don't become subsumed by it - otherwise i'll have to do the honourable thing and try to make it pay its way.

But, this afternoon as i sat penning, writing out a few more details of offending bus drivers failing to switch off their engines whilst stationary at the stand; i noticed in my aggregate news reader - which pops up whenever the robo-searches come slinking back home with heavy packets regarding anything bus worthy - that two events happened at both ends of the spectrum of twilightness, that required a little bit of pedantry.

The first was news of a london bus driver being charged with the sad death of a cyclist - full news here, and the second was that arriva had been shortlisted for eight categories for the prestigious national uk bus awards.  What makes this so curious is the bus garage nominated for bus garage of the year, is also the garage where the driver charged with the death of the cyclist was based.

I continued sipping my coffee, watching half of my life continue its downward slide, whilst the other bobs slightly buoyantly.

Twidleness

Wait a mo isn’t there another conference ripping into the poor, taking milk from infants, feeding whole swathes of the luckless to lions - or the mincing machine that goes by the title you have no life, that i might have missed…

Unseemly rip’s

Oh world webby, where would we be without you!

It appears my initial woe’s and teeth gnashing were overdone and mightily premature, as a more thorough search indicated that it could just be a corrupt error in the start up causing the wsod (white screen of death) looping, and if lucky wouldn’t need to download a firmware tool from a third-party, nor a hacked tool from some unknown party, but straight from sony ericssons own site which eventually popped out an update tool for download to update the firmware. 

Firmware updates, especially during the earlier days of motherboard bios flashing, held similar delights to stuffing your head into the mouth of a lion and daring it to bite your head off - only for the brave. 

But it went through the upgrade process with only 3% of battery power without a hiccup.  I was now able to get the phone to switch on, quickly realising that my backups never actually existed outside of my imagination, and the phone refused to see the memory card. 

At least it was progress.

After pausing to ponder it hit me.  After the firmware update, do another reset, a reset using the phones factory default option. 

Before doing that however, i transferred the flash card to disk, formatted the flash card, re-copied the information and voila, all of the data was back in, sadly minus contacts.  Even the sim was cleared of contacts, which i could have done years ago and not realised.  Luckily had contacts scattered in the cloud.  Exported those to vcf format and synced address book with phone which worked.  So, barring losing data for people who i haven’t been in touch with for decades, regular service has been resumed. 

On this occasions i’m more than happy to loft five happy tabs for the webby’s practical and useful information and sony ericssons site which saved a fraught shopping trip and loss of all data. 

Now with the camera back in operation, ready to take pictures of whatever noise they’re creating outside… hold on… oh.. painting lovely red double-lines, so everyone and his dog can park there.  On third thoughts I’ll resist the temptation to pop a snap, save on its wear ‘n tear.

RIP for faithful years

As the maelstrom that is my existence, continues it plunge down the rabbit hole, it's now swallowed my faithful phone; yes it was a brick compared to the latest slim-line razor sharp offerings, but up until today it did everything i needed a phone to do without airs or graces and done them well.  

Today, it died.  The screen just blinks on then off.  I could get it repaired, but its battered carcass has seen better years - like its owner, and as the other two mobiles also died displaying the same symptom, its time for it to hit that great mobile recycling facility in the sky.

So come in rip k750i, your time has finally arrived.

Bus strike

Did someone say the buses are going on strike? 

Oh please make it so, failing that a ditch, a very large ditch!

Home delivery triumphs

Order 2 - Day 1 - 11:44

Never one not to turn the other cheek (at least once) nor grasp enough rope to swing by, i plumped for another delivery by that august (spot the tonal difference) grocers, sainsburys!

An amazing transformation.  

For some odd reason i'd forgotten i'd placed an order for delivery today, thinking instead it was due tomorrow.  Around 10:53hrs i received a call from the driver saying "everything's okay. I've found the building and will be with you shortly."

Here? I had to enquire whether he'd really had the right day.  Sure enough he had, with an added surprise of also arriving early.  Soon i was placing numerous orange bags around the fume-ridden parts of the flat, making note of those items which were out of stock that could wait until i made a trip to the farmers market instead.  I was, however, so contented with the delivery i decided to call expressing said effusive contentment.

For a growing agrophobe, not having to participate in the melee that goes by the name of shopping is a mighty boon.  I now just need to get my air piped from the arctic, the bubble, and i'd explode through sheer blissful contentedness.

So far it's being one good experience vs. a crappy one, with the third shopping experience test just a few short weeks away.  

On this occasion i'm giving five happy tabs to sainsburys.

 

Ba

Just when i finally grasped how to successfully grow large pelargoniums and toy with the idea of gently squeezing those essential oils, drop by drop, into thin-necked bottles for a sublime organic pot-pouri experience (even had the poster designs); I only discover my delicate little skin is allergic to its scented touch and breaks out faster than a teenager on a diet of pizza and radioactive sunny dependent.

In a brief second, what could have been the gateway to a bucket-load of green liquid happiness (although it still could be if i don't inhale, touch, or have any of it waft over me), turns out to be something else that i need to add to the growing list of toxicity that's slowly making me wonder whether i should invest in a very large bubble!  Naturally it would have to be a sound-proofed bubble, with tasers appropriately positioned and a concealed bear trap or two for back up!  

In hindsight, it's a good thing i never conjured up a whole batch and dipped my head in, that would have been embarrassing to explain down at a&e - if i made it that far.

So what else is it good for, apart from infusing a nasty smelling fume laden room with the wonderful scent of freshly cut lemon? 

Culinary, air fragrance or purely ornamental.  

Ah yes

Nothing like a new broom to bring us back to the good old days…

Luckily, with “air quality in london amongst the worst in
europe,” london assembly air quality report 2009, we’ll soon be enjoying pea-soup, for free!  That is those of us on the ground level with bus stands for neighbours.

If anyone knows where the above pics come from, please email so they can be gratefully accredited (or taken down).

'elping elderlies

On the one hand lambeth is celebrating the elderly by announcing october is the month for 'celebrating age'  jointly organised by themselves and age concern.

They should have a chat with licensing, the environment department, oh yes, and tfl just to see how much consideration they truly show the elderly (indeed seemingly show anyone over their 40's let alone those 70-90+ year olds) in this little part of the borough.

But if you're not able to conjour up the imagery let me help out. It's nothing short of a damnable disgrace.

Admirable midges

Every now and then things occur which smears a smidge of admiration, no not admiration, delight at the potential of selflessness in the social side of humanity.  Luckily, and seemingly as quickly its usually beaten to death by an avalanche of human behaviour, proving how nasty the social side of humanity can be; which luckily, every now and then is offset by things which smear a smidge of... 

Snailorama

It's yet another damp and wet period here in the smoke, perfect conditions to see whether the previous snail-surge for the algal patches would be repeated.

The viriginia creeper is in its last flush of greenery, but still contains a fair amount of lush green leaves.  Out of six snails, five were happily munching on algal growth and the sixth tackling its way through the bush; eye-stalks straining to their fullest extent as it strove like a maddened rabid dog to partake in whatever goodness these green squelching mats hold for these speeding gastropods.

Another test is obviously in order; something like a glass bottle placed mid-way between the algal patch and other greener bits, then simply watching which direction the snails speed off to.

Talking about racers, boy racing wonders have been a bit thin on the ground recently, do hope they've found that ditch - unharmed naturally!

Testing…

 1, 2, 3… testing…

Where shall i begin …

… since the line's now drawn.

Home delivery perils?

For the first time in a few years i thought i’d brave the old home delivery service of one of the big uk grocers (yes sainsuburys this is about you) once more; especially with a bout of growing agrophobia, passionate dislike for shopping, twinned with an even greater dislike over the herding and pushing that normally equates to a usual shopping experience, so entailing that i generally manage to miss the majority of bargains displayed somewhere in some aisle and upon reaching home find half (well, one or two) of what i’ve brought is either out of date, fit for the bin or otherwise not quite the right item i'd wanted in the first place.

Yes, i do indeed zone out when in shopping zones. 

I thought that after a few years, the online grocery shopping experience would had improved by leaps and bounds.  Like opening the curtains in the morning and instead of being greeted by a rising sun you're killed by a gamma-ray burst instead.

It took about a week for me to carefully craft the shopping list to my exact requirements.  Despite squashing initial qualms and successfully batting away worst-case scenarios - that eventually fled the roost - i pottered around expectantly, expecting this first order to proceed swimmingly and without a hitch.  Well, i did place it with sainsburys!

The day came and the hours fled, and i noticed i’d missed a text message.   I soon realised those scenarios i thought eliminated, had simply taken up roost elsewhere along the line, and as i read the sms i’d received saying i should call them, I realised the game was probably up and everything would head downhill from there.  Which it promptly did. 

The first glitch was my own.  Somewhere amongst the process of entering card details i’d apparently entered one wrong digit, which was a worry as it was all supposedly verified when the order was submitted.  Eventually it processed and went through, and the order was still supposed to arrive within the allotted time frame i’d picked; which came and went.  After an hour of nothing, i called.

The very pleasant and helpful lady tried to contact the online/orders department - who weren’t answering.  She was frustrated, i was intrigued, that the two worst case scenarios i thought might happen, had indeed happened.  Why is it never a lottery win?

I decided not to scream and rant (which bizarrely seemed to be present just below the surface – better than the usual amounts of visualising i have to bat away), after all they are just doing their jobs, and somewhere along the chain outside of their direct control something had gone screwy.  As i picked through the motley scrapping of butter beans & onion with a side-order of salt & vinegar crisps - until re-delivery turned up something more edible – i took to pondering instead of pottering.

It’s being an interesting first foray back into the grocery delivery world, not surprised that it went belly up, even before it had the opportunity to leave the starting gate.   Saying that, i suppose i really shouldn’t grumble, at least i along with others have the option to have food delivered or otherwise trudge out to centers with elbows ‘oft.

So sainsburys, six hearty raspberries to you – well i would, if they’d been delivered!

Update 1

08:24 hrs – spoke to another charming employee who went off to speak with one of his colleagues in the store delivering the items.  They informed him that they had no idea what had taken place last night, but would print out a report and call me back in an hour to see whether i’d want a re-delivery or refund.  I happily expressed my gratitude and waited.

Update 2

09:24 hrs – arrived and 09:24 departed.

Update 3

10:24 hrs – spoke to another charming employee who quickly read through the notes and called the store - no prevaricating here.  Apparently the store had called me and left a voice message just after 10am.  Unfortunately, i’m not exactly sure where they left the message, since nothing has yet come through on the mobile nor the landline phone, which has been remarkably silent in its cradle.  She went on to tell me that the store had decided to re-arrange my goods delivery between 3-4pm utterly ignoring the original delivery time of 8-9pm as any indication of the actual preferred time.

Update 4

10:46 hrs – the very nice, helpful and charming member of staff called me back, informing me that i should expect my delivery between 7-8pm.  Sadly no extra loyalty points, but i will be in receipt of a voucher for £10 to use on or off line,

I can rapidly see this tentative foray back into the world of grocery home delivery being my last for a long while, as i take those silly notions of ease, relaxing whilst shopping, taking the weight off my tree-trunk legs, not having to fight the hordes; and stuff them heartily back into their boxes.

Update 5?

Day 2 - 20:03 hrs and neither delivery nor phone call from sainsburys relating to anything food-worthy, so time to give them a call and gather up my spending portfolio and take the whole thing elsewhere. So before i wave good-bye to edf, so long to argos, and good riddance to sainsburys, i will make that final call to see what the excuse is, obtain my refund and - shudder - go out shopping.

Update 6

Day 2 - 20:15 hrs and finally it's arrived, the driver wasn't, apparently, the same one from yesterday so had no idea what had taken place. As i slowly unpacked everything i realised the disaster continued apace: the fish had defrosted, the meat was in containers expanded to twice their size, one of the items was missing (despite the paper having it included and included on the receipt), i was surprised all the eggs seemed in one piece and bottles hadn't been smashed. So fish and mince refunded, the voucher is only an e-voucher though and i'm really not sure i wish to place another order with sainsburys and subsequently impact my health if this is their way of impressing.

Did someone say ocado?

Visiting pontiffs

Right.

Yipper yapper, yipper yapper…

I shamelessly purloined the following:

“At the same time, Coalition Minister for Culture, Communications and Creative Industries Ed Vaizey  says in the official explanation of the changes that the Government plans to do no more than is necessary to make only the changes explicitly demanded by the new EU rules, as the Government is committed to improving conditions for business by ‘reducing the regulatory burden in the UK wherever possible,’ and that the Directives won't end up ‘gold plated’ by Westminster.”

Public Technology.Net -  Fri, 17/09/2010 - 11:53

Which, of course, could be read as saying “come on business we’re ready to party now,”; or could be read as “rights? A break! You want to have a lunch break?  Listen laddy, when you’ve clocked up 58 unbroken hours, then you can have a break!” 

Which, with the ever straining glut of unemployed who are squeezed for having the temerity for being unemployed, will probably occur anytime soon.

Not quite sure what, if anything, this has to do with the coalition minister for culture, communications and creative industries (except for not giving tax breaks to the gaming industry and chopping the film board in twain), which doesn't really have anything to do with anything any how.

Vote poor

Less than 220 years ago in these fair isles, of the 8 million (oh if only) populace only 230,000 people had the right to vote, or put another way, less than 3% had any real say in who was going to represent them.

Some would say that under the current duopoly things appear to be trammeling backwards at a spirited pace, to a state where even less real power will be dolloped into the bowls of those with greater need; as everything is instead doled out to huge private firms who only count the bonus’s flying past, in ticker-tape parade majesty.  But at least there are now numerous fronts for the centuries struggles of hard fought p’fdoms to be easily chipped away, whilst the general populace happily remain informed by the nose that “everything’s really being done, for your own good.”

I’m just another armchair swivelling, popcorn popping, poisoned by bus exhaust watcher.  But it really does appear that people  (well as reported by the press at any rate) only need to hear the term terrorist, or pedo, or any other current bogey-man scare word before they run off demanding retribution, or laws be tightened, and thus more intrusions to take place, so they and their off-spring can feel the comforting words of security telling them how secure they now really all are. 

Even though the above is a wide sweeping exaggeration of the whole populace, in truth not enough of us care, or really know what to do apart from putting a mark down once every few years.  After all why bother with all of that, when we can play with the latest ipod/phone/pad/touch/mac – or one of their imitators, which in the eyes of so many is all that really matters.

But, people witter on about the mother of all parliaments etc., when it really has nothing to do with democracy, nor indeed anything what-so-ever to do with fairness covering the whole of the population.

Another reason why councils, organisations still get away with so much, is simply due to laws (usually put in with good cause and spirit) end up neutered by too many clauses allowing a whole set of coaches to career through them.

in the 1800's chartists struggled to redress the distribution of wealth imbalance, 200+ years later the gap is greater than ever, as more and more people are forced to do more than one job, or spend more time working despite the fact that the means of production has exponentially increased; but those at the top continually reduce staffing levels so ensuring those saved costs happily find themselves paid out in greater salaries & fuller fatter pensions for those on the top, with a few extra crumbs falling down to the fortunate's below.

It is telling, not only with the last labour government, but the current coalition too, that those who will not be struggling come pension age, or waiting for days to see a doctor or a dentist - if they can find one, or decide whether they can afford that pint of milk, or a brief beer, or take a hit, are the ones who believe that they know what’s best for everyone.  Which strangely equates to those who are the poorest, being savagely hacked at the worst.

Acceptable noise?

When is 93.3dBA noise acceptable in a built up urban environment on the height of a sunny autumnal day?

Apparently, when the metropolitan police decide its embracing the "local younger person" in a show of cuddly bro-mage, but is it really necessary to do so complete with loudspeakers and a pa system that would put many a large festival to shame?

When people mention brixton and gentrification in the same breath, it's usually the parts outside of the triangle.  The parts from the tube station going towards the town hall which appear to have received all of the ‘fication. 

This little bit appears (like the titanic) to be used as nothing more than a convenient dumping ground for the more troubled projects that cause too much noise, as evidenced by the glc forcing through the brixton academy license against resident objections; as evidenced by the council and tfl allowing even more buses to use the stand here - despite complaints from residents regarding the increasing levels of pollution, vibration and sound.  Things they dare not measure, as even a days worth of measuring would show them to be in breach of their mouthed concern for residents.

A brief glimpse of moving sound, and yes the sound is coming from those tents in the background. 

So that you can get a feel for the distances involved, take a quick peek at the following pictures showing distance of residents (boundary in cyan/turquoise/blue) to the nearest venues (bounded in yellow): (a) skateboard park to residents, (b) bmx track in brockwell park to the nearest residents.  Do see whether you can, spot the difference!

Whatever happened to the wonderful bmx track in brockwell park - which seems hardly ever used?   Even if the council turned that particular elephant into a concreted over skateboard park, double the size of the one here, it still wouldn’t impinge on residents as badly as this one does; but, that would mean upsetting the gentle fairer folk who live in that part of town instead of the smelly proles here.

As other residents said, it probably wouldn’t have been that bad, it might have been slightly more acceptable, had they had the decency to undertake a leaflet drop – if upchuck pizza deliveries can manage to pop hundreds of unwanted bundles through residents letter boxes, council/met pol, you can too.

So met pol, way to go getting one section of the community on side and angering others on the other from 10:15am until- well it’s now after 5.30pm – and still going strong!

With each passing day continuing to prove that this really is the lost sector of the twilight zone, why is there never a tornado around when you want one.

‘Er, mit’s in ‘is hole

The problem with hermitising in a hell-hole is that it not only warps your outlook, but it really can cramp your expandability; as you become pre-occupied with the middling mess of minutiae denuded all around. 

Urk

Yes after a brief hiatus (migraine) i am more or less back in circulation.

It’s so much nicer being able to look at a screen whilst your heads not trying to explode.

Burning hot heads

Without a radical mindset change to our way of life: living, social interaction, consumption, just imagine how things will be when the world has a population of 9 billion, or if the population was represented as non-burning double-decker buses, imagine adding another deck making it into a triple-decker; with the extra requirements needed for fuel, materials, an increase in running costs, more paint, sturdier wheels, a conductor to race up and down the stairs (or lift) quelling trouble and so on, but all the while utilising the same amount of raw materials on the triple as used on the decker. 

But in our current non-changed mindset, the sharks, sorry vultures, no speculators circle everything that hints at the whiff of a promise for higher than inflation returns.  Regardless of whether the hunt for those returns leaves swathes of devastation impacting the environment, destroying the habitats of thousands of species and affecting the lives of so many who don’t share the same need for greed or lust for power, or need for a dynasty rivalling the emperors.

With 16 (or so) non-sleep useful hours a day of scrabbling around to ensure they have those essentials like clothes, i(pods/pads*), rent or mortgage, a holiday or two, oh food and work - all taken care of; whilst on the other, those (the vast majority?) who are just scrambling around fast enough to ensure they have at least one meal a day; is it really any wonder why those of us with access slump in front of some sort of screen at the end of a hard days work and watch the endless flow of inane nonsense pouring from it.  Not because we don’t care or aren’t interested (and yes i know that’s been remarkably charitable), but after fighting all day at work - in a job they may or may not enjoy, wasting hours getting there, then back home to look after off-spring or been a carer, or to undertake one of the many hundreds of things we all do on a daily basis, before we call time and relax.  It’s probably not too inconceivable a stretch to understand why most would rather just subsume in to the flow, than consider the needs of a few stupid stranded dolphins up the river duff.  With an avalanche of information and mis-information for people to wade through, is it really any wonder?

What is freedom?  We hear it bandied about like a hat been stuffed with notes before the conclusion of a cock-fight.  It means something.  It’s obviously viewed as precious as millions die fighting for it and just as many are manipulated into fighting to restrict it as their version truly is more free.  Those acts, which when viewed under the guise of waving banners of freedom, oddly transform into oppressive insouciance when experienced elsewhere.

But seriously, if you want to be a burning hot-head, consider being a burning hot-head for the whole planet – we all live on. 

* delete as appropriate

Welcome to the 22rd century a re-run of the 12th?

Might have to get a very large popcorn bucket, along with my hat for this one.

A civilised species that’s so fragile we demand people don't even think of poking fun at anything we believe in else our (some of the populaces’) foaming incoherent rage immediately explodes following any knee-jerk baiting, showing they’re as bad as us who are just as bad as them – whoever ‘them’ happens to be at any particular moment or time or space.

Easily provoked into reaction, following a mad rush to prove who has a bigger set.   Watch for who the balls toll, as the brass balls’ll be a clanging!

Goring rise

As the book burning, flag trashing, effigial pimping, masses of the world continue with their centuries same-old same-old; the next generation's proudly packed off - to begin anew - the goring rise of intolerance.

Life in the other place

"I have 10 million people who say my parrot's a bigger, badder, more gentle, loving, peaceful and wise shaggy parrot than your shabby parrot!"

"Oh really! Well I have 10 million and one people, who say otherwise; and will fight you to the death to prove to it!"

Urks?

A time honoured missive of dubious proportions.

Slash or burn

Upon hearing a leading politician talk about people treating being unemployed as a 'lifestyle choice', i hope that i'm not the only one who raised his eyes, and released a very slow controlled exhalation of air, and imagining it disappearing into the outer reaches of the vacuum of space before turning ones thoughts back to taking our new chancellor by the head and have him closely acquainted with a nearby batwing table; in the hope some sense seeps from it.

So he thinks that people would prefer to stay on benefits than have a job that pays them a living wage, that enables them to eat good nutritious food, that would allow them to enjoy the odd holiday or "treat", that would allow them to do more than just pop down to a dole office once a fortnight to receive a pittance that would make most people wonder whether that's enough to buy tiddles food let alone more than a couple of days fine food for themselves. 

Remember, the odd few that hit the headlines hides the many hundreds of thousands who manage within their means, who play by the rules and who take umbrage at this governments blinkered charge hoeing everything unemployed into the 'wasted chaff' bin.

What they should do is allow people to properly train, to gain and add new skills, even to allow them into education to gain those oh so necessary papers for the 7am to 8pm burger flipping shift. 

To once more enable a nation of shopkeepers* to vigorously thrive by utilising truly transformative innovations from whichever arena of life they happen to hail from.

Hope? Hardly. 

Not until someone in this government displays more vision than the screaming next victim in a slasher movie can they then truly say they not only have the best interest of the majority of the populace at heart, but they really do have a plan that involves more than just slash or burn.

*the term shopkeer is generic in its use.

Deep-deep-deep bass!

I had apparently missed a doozy of an evening, emanating from the innards of the entertainment venue - on top of the additional buses whose drivers have obviously never come in contact with the highway code, nor an off-switch.

Yes, the air was thick with extra-deep, deep-deep, deep-deep, deep deep bass.  The worst ever!  I'm glad i wasn't there, but instead experiencing the enjoyment of having someone else cook a veritable enjoyable and delightfully filling dinner: herby rice with chicken & mushrooms, with an exquisite helping of shredded carrot tossed in lemon vinaigrette, and followed by just the right size dessert to have me sitting gassing (from the right end), for many a while afterwards.  No red eyes from the relentless bus fumes (the penalty of living so close to the gutter), no pounding inner cranial matter courtesy of the holes from the venue next door.  

But that all came to light after listening to messages awaiting my return.  Messages indicating the new scale (or is that gauntlet) that has being climbed (thrown down) by those concerned with the running of the venue - yes o², shame on you too.   After all, what hope for lowly residents against the combined mighty conviviality of so many - with election year a dim dot on the horizon?

 

Viva la-anything?

Ah the french. You have to love them for their good food, fine wines, flair for disdain, and generally snooking two-fingers to authority that we (the down-trodden and oppressed) in the uk look on, admire and applaud, or would do if we had any sense.

Especially when it comes to defending their rights.  What a difference a revolution makes. 

Although looking at the usa, we could be forgiven for not being able to put our finger on the precise moment their happy days started to derail.

Unnatural polyesters

The next time someone witters on about how unnatural something is, first take them through this starting checklist:

1. Are you now, or have you ever had any tablets, injections or powders for a medical emergency – outside of naturally occurring ones i.e., licking the back of a hallucinogenic toad or happy 'rooms?
   
2. Have you ever had any medical procedure which involved anything more than the use of a saw-tooth bone and dried pummelled plant fibre for thread to sow you back up?
   
3. Have you ever used a bus, car, bicycle, aeroplane, tank, tanker, submarine?
   
4. Have you ever used concrete, upvc, pvc, ipa, lycra, polyester, crack?
   
5. Do you live in anything other than a wigwam, mud hut, igloo, a true grass hut (hay doesn’t count) made purely from naturally grown and locally produced materials?

If they answer ‘yes’ to all of those starter questions, then you can rest assured their utterances regarding all things unnatural can be viewed with more than the normal healthy hint of scepticism.  If they are, however, communicating via anything other than: carrier pigeon, quill, parchment or face-to-face non-technological interfacial means, tell them where to get off as you take their laptop and chase them off your land, beating them over the head with it as you do.

Treats

I am one of millions who collects (as per normal retail visits) coupons or vouchers, but especially loyalty points on my shopping, because all those 0.00001p’s that would otherwise be pooled and creamed off by the companies - at a rate they have already costed into their profits - regardless of whether people use the schemes or not - all those points over time (five years for an average shopper) add up to buy that special meal for one, at christmas!

I have, however, of late become rather aghast (too ebenezerish?) at nectar and their wee-twee-all-so-cutesy use of the word "treat" that drips from overuse on their website.  As if we were all a tail, wagging with gusto at the latest crumb hurtling from on high.  So much so, that whenever I pop onto the website and my eyes are assaulted by those never-ending permutating "treats" you can spend your treaty points on, an imminent need to assume the bone-jarring wobbly knee porcelain hugging position, briefly takes over forcing me to flee the page. 

Perhaps I am becoming even more cynical than I thought (despite taking into consideration the visual appeal of imagining the crumpled remains of a boy-racer who whizzes by into the air as he becomes permanently detached from his bike, just as he goes hurtling past the stationary and quiet burnt out remains of a bus), whilst the idea of either a stone shack, igloo or wicker-basket in the middle of nowhere, continues to grow unabated.

But it doesn’t even end there! 

I pop onto yet another (once favourite) website - a supposed technical get your hands grubby with thermal grease - website, only to see that it too has succumbed to the tide!

“You’ll be getting a visual treat ... because it comes with a bright 15.6” screen and Intel GMA graphics” - yes morgan computers, this is you.

At some stage the continual compromise reaches the point where you feel like a sliver of a shadow of shadows gone befor- right!

Damnable boy-racer’s; never a pc, sps or traffic monitoring station around when you want one…  Where’s my bazooka!?…

Naturally, refusing a ride on a vmax would be the height of stubborn churlishness.  Cough.

Surviving an asteroid strike?

Surely, and I could be wrong here, but if a moderately sized asteroid haphazardly punches a hole slap bang in-between, let's say paternoster square & paternoster row in london, then no matter how much invested in anything, will actually do anything but momentarily (micro or nano second-ish) slow your transformation from relatively dense combined atoms into their bright & vaporised disparate counterparts.  

Rest easy, as the same sort of thing would already have happened a few micro or nano-seconds earlier, to those unfortunate enough to be within the strike zone of any incoming hurtling heavenly body - so why worry?  

For those in London and the south east, deciding where to go if our fair, gentle, slopping sectioned part of the country were unfortunate enough to be in imminent danger of being wiped off the map (by a 200m asteroid), would have to consider making plans to journey at least 100 miles away and somewhere in a ditch, before coming close to having  a 51% chance of survival; with the added hardship of many degree burns, loss of mobile signals and nothing handy in the nearest tesco metro.  

The choice, therefore, is simple: voluntarily head to coventry, or be wiped off the face of the planet, or spending thousands or millions, and briefly cocking two-fingers at every one else and laughing as they're being vaporised, before you to end up in the smoke cloud.

Coventry, wiped off the map, disapprobation?  Coventry...

Little clips

Having re-discovered (worked out how to use scribefire), i'm finding my tendency to utter has taken on a new leash.  

So mind the mistakes, as they'll more reflect a piece i've heatedly glanced through, missed most major points of and come to a conclusion devoid of the time honoured necessity of 'allowing to ripen', before regurgitating a couched nuanced and off-field, far far off-field, riposte!

Drawing near

With the passing of the 5th of September and only three and a bit months to go before another festive period of "thank the stars, finally some quiet," to look forward to, thoughts of partying and madcap revelry knock-up against the void, waiting to make their appearance. 

Fowl and gushing, what a way to go!

Streamlining

The problem with keeping records, is records really aren't meant to be kept - if you're a large organisation in charge of thousands of buses and hundreds of bus stands or terminus's that is.  

Indeed - as someone said to me "don't you think it odd that they don't know or say they don't know, how many complaints each stand or terminus actually receives?"

"Odd," I replied. "Hardly.  We are, after all, viewed as the twilight section of the community!  Now, if they were really interested they would have started off by managing to spell your name correctly!"

Balance

As the saying goes, "strike hard, strike fast, and keep them off balance."

Replacing bus drivers?

 

Hurray, by 2030 bus drivers will be replaced by robots, oh happy day - can't it be tomorrow?

Of course, such happy joy would soon be eclipsed when some coronal mass ejection screws with the magnetic field, or a bored hacker mangles their programming, sending them into a murderous frenzy: running buses, into each other, or into bridges, or turning them into rude, obnoxious high on crack dangers to passengers, or even making them incapable of switching off their engines whilst stationary at bus terminus's/stands-... ah right, no change then!

 

So much crap

"You stand accused of communicating false information!"

Happy carnivore

The nicely understated flowers for a plant that would sooner eat you and spit you out than provide a source of wonderment, are finally coming into their own.

In light of that, here are this weeks pics, and i’m hoping that despite feeding it nothing more than the hardest 24-hour aerated tap water, it will not only continue to profusely flower but also go on to produce a number of hardy offspring!

   

Sadly the camera on my sturdy phone’s starting to show it’s age, with colours wandering all over the spectrum – can’t complain; the phone, an elderly K750i, has provided over six years of good and faithful service.

Turgidity report - Q3

Brimming

Oh i’m brimming.

Yes, despite being the grim-reaper for over half a dozen bonsai to date – although cuttings have strangely happily prospered; whether back into bonsai sized pretty lush green dazzling bushery or huge semi-bonsai things that have sensed escape from their confines and are making a dash for it!

Despite the initial ‘plant it and kill it’ syndrome my attempts seemed wantonly to emulate; the mad impulse which refused to dissipate finally had its way, especially when fully-covered strips of genocidal flypapers continuously assaulted my ever waking vision, leading  me wondering how much more environmentally friendly it would be if a growing bit of flora was enjoying all of those annoying mega-multiplying flies.

Step forward sundew and a friend on the 52^nd parallel, who cordially assisted by buying and carting one all the way down to me, in an attempt to nurture and have something semi-exotic survive.

Cut now to two (or maybe even three) months down the line, and not only is the sundew alive it is positively bursting out of the pot and on the cusp of doing something i never thought it would – especially after undergoing the water-boarding treatment of london tap water (water that has been boiled and left to air for 24 hours), it might actually flower – or seed. 

The amount of light reflected from the usually closed blackout curtains, combined with the overabundance of multiplying small flies, seems to have provided it with more than enough nutrients, light and fortitude so helping it to thrive.

I will have to see whether it survives the winter and three months of 13^oC night-time – 15^oC day-time average temperatures.

Stockwell Park estate burn out

As a fire breaks out on the Stockwell Park estate bike   shed, lock up/garage, hardy skateboards bravely struggle on…

 

Football 2010?

Yay, holiday!

Quips

Now that my quip's semi full...

What shall i blunder through next?...

• Mr dimbleby afraid of plymouth...
• Lambeth council condones torture...
• Oil spills...
• The third night..
• Hatred & bile...