Danger Day

Maybe it's the ever present tiredness that never seems to leave me, maybe it's just being cack-handed, or there again it may just be my luck but today did not go well.  


It started late, I awoke at ten past five, closed my eyes as the 'shipping forecast' was read on the wireless and next thing I knew it was seven!  I stumbled into the kitchen fried tomatoes and the mushrooms that were growing on them and microwaved an omlette.  This took forever as I had forgotten to turn the cooker on.  Eventually my cold toast finished and crumbs filling every crack in this laptop, the phone rang.  For some strange reasom nine o'clock had arrived before I was ready and some spammer was already attempting to sell me something.  I ignored them and let the ansafone take care of it, no message was the reply.  I dialed 1471 to get their number and trace the call but they did not leave one, a spammer!  However I noticed some marks on the phone, the handset batteries were leaking like a tap!   Considerable time later the mess was cleaned up, on the phone, the desk,the laptop - me!  At least the desk is considerably cleaner, although things now fall through the hole.   


As I had to go into the walled city for no good reason I prepared carefully my duties so as to have as little time there as possible.  Naturally this was not to be.  Having managed to stay awake sufficiently to leave the train at my stop, rather than end in down by the coast where I would rather be, although being in Clacton on Sea would not be my first choice of coastal town to reside in (ankle chains and white stiletto's, and that's just the men!), I trooped off via the park and watched life slowly traipse by in the gloom.  At least the rain only threatened, then stopped and this summers gray cloud cheered us no end.  As I made for my destination a man walking the other way grumbled about the papers strewn all over and around a park bench, although I was not sure what I should do about it.  I noticed that he grumbled about those responsible but made no effort to collect the stuff and put it in the bin himself.  Hmmm.


Forced to huddle in a side room with a hundred other layabouts until the lovely Alison sorted things out I was then presented with a PC that suffered much!  The screen resolution was so small I could only see it by leaning right up against it, the window light reflected blocking what I could see, and it would not work!  My neighbour had his working, up to a point, but at least he could read his!  Once we managed to get started the printer would not print.  Both of us, and several others, sent much to the printer and nothing arrived.  The PC's were set to a differing machine.  Somewhere in that building hundreds of wasted sheets of paper are at this minute piling up on the floor.  What were we doing there?  Almost all of us claimed we do more at home.  All of us thought we were wasting time here, and that it cost this company cash it would be better advised spending on an upgrade of the computer system. However these 'Work' programmes are running into a problem. They make money when the 'client' gets a job he keeps for six months. There are three million unemployed and 400,000 vacancies. Most on this programme are the ones nobody wants. Like me some are unfit, some old, some unskilled and some ex-prisoners, not the first you would choose when employing someone from several hundred applications. The course is meant to help but there are just too few jobs, now this programme are getting worried. Conned by this government they are losing cash like water flooding folks houses and there is no improvement in sight. I wasted my time there, got out as quick as I could, and made it home without falling asleep onto the tracks.




I put the chips in the oven as I couldn't be fagged to do anything else and forgot the frying pan and oil therein was lying on the bottom of the oven. I type this with a thin haze all around, the windows open to clear the air, an unfortunate aroma clinging to everything, and suspect that as the night is young still more can go wrong.




I'm off to bed......




Oh good, the kids opposite have their music on, 'Rap' (with a capital 'C') or that dum dum dum stuff I wonder? That's the advantage the States has in such situations, guns! Bah!







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Camulodunum

Camulodunum was very cold today, in spite of the weather man claiming the cold snap was lessening.  Here we see the wall forming the first defensive barrier.  Behind the land slopes up to where I suspect another barrier once stood.  Well it would have had I anything to do with it!

Not exactly straight!  Age has indeed wearied this wall which has lasted many years.

 

The variety of stones includes many slim red tiles.  These are Roman bricks I believe but I am too busy to check it out and I wonder if this forms part of the wall created as part of the new defences after Boudicca's revolt. 

   

Can you make out the thin layer of ice that lies on top of the river?

I wondered what this was at first.  The design and brickwork was typical 1950's and must have appeared very modern at the time.  It forms part of the Fire Station and while I am unsure as to whether it is a chimney or part of the training routine I found it strangely atmospheric of its time!

I was amazed by the lamp standards in this area.  Very dated and very badly maintained.  Much more attractive than the concrete type that appeared in the 50's, or would be if painted once again.

My meeting there was once again with a different person.   Yet another has walked off to tour the world and I am now on my fourth worker, and I suspect this will change to another next time I trundle along there.  Still this lass has plenty of common sense and a great deal of the females normal attitudes, she nagged me, browbeat me and was totally unreasonable in her demands!  However I am much encouraged by the news that the employment situation will worsen and 'bosses are losing staff' claim the press.  It did not mention where they lose them however.

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Public Transport

The sky was blue and the sun shone brightly as I trundled unwillingly down to the station this morning.  While I usually enjoy these little journeys into the big city it was a tired grumbling lump that joined the grumbling queue at the ticket desk. The usual cheery efficient member of staff passed me my tickets and called me "Sir," something I am not used to. As I approached the 12 coach train, a normal length at commuter time, I chose an empty compartment towards the front, and as I reached the door two men came from the small covered shelter to the side.  One moved to a door behind and the second followed me on. He murmured some words, as some people occasionally do, but I thought nothing of this grabbing the free 'Metro' that lay on a  seat intending to merely flick through it, and chose a filthy seat at the front. The coach was empty yet this man, muttering about seating, chose to sit on the other side opposite me, still talking. 


"Hmmm" I thought, "a talker," and suddenly became interested in the news I found in front of me.  Now some folks on trains share a few words as they settle into the journey and some choose to talk like an old women, this was one of they!  I remembered the hour long discussion of 'Uncle Joe's toe' on the bus that time and buried my head in the paper. Buried being the word as my glasses are meant for distance and not close up.  I pushed them to the end of my Romanesque nose and used my short sight to read the paper from three inches from the print.  I noticed my neighbour glare and turn to his (Paid for) paper.  I continued to remain absorbed in the adventures of glossily dressed female 'pop' singers, actors with well paid dentists, African 'spiritual healers' with 'POWER,' and women who wished me to call them at 35pence a minute (they say) for a friendly chat. I also then realised why the other fellow from the platform shelter entered by a different door!  Now in my world a train journey gives a great opportunity to see the world.  Trains not only give you countryside but also show you those backyards and hidden places normally missed during our lives and some of us like looking into the back end of industrial estates, peoples gardens and sometimes their windows! The view on some lines can be spectacular, on others merely interesting, so why do some folks insist on talking in very loud voices about last nights' "X" Factor' or Simon Callow show?  Do we really need to know about 'Uncle Joe's toe' while outside the sun shines, horses trot and the occasional sheep stares at the train as it passes.  (The horrid thought strikes me that some on my train may not know that sheep provide their Sunday lunch!)  But I digress. As we approached my station I concentrated on the football league divisions, all of them!  Crawley Town top League two at the moment, did you know?  As the train slowly, oh so slowly, round the bend I concentrated on the Welsh League, Llanelli doing well aint they? Soon we arrived and as I rose my talker glared at me again, I forgot to smile back.  Now I rarely object to sharing a few pleasantries, but an old woman man was not what I required today. Being friendly surely includes not talking too much as well as too little?  I felt a little guilty but I suspect he will soon have bored the pants of those who joined after I left.


Business done I returned to the station and headed home.  Sharing a friendly word with the bored guard at the entrance I noticed a train for Liverpool St standing there.  Would it stop at my stop I wondered?  As is typical on that strangely laid out station there was no screen at that point to find out, so I, along with several others, jumped on. Nowadays all trains play passenger announcements. A lass with a 'come on voice' will inform you, as if speaking into your ear that "The next stop will be Witham." With that town being the delightful London overspill that it is she might as well say "The next stop will be Kabul!"  As she gives you her 'come on' voice a message runs along the narrow indicator informing the deaf the name of the next stop.  All good information and a credit to the railway company! Naturally today this did not happen. No voice was heard and the scrolling message simply stated 'This train is for Liverpool St.' A cold thrill ran through me as I saw myself at Liverpool St station fifty minutes hence attempting to explain to several large National Express Gestapo officers my plight. However we did in fact stop at the usual stations and I relaxed.


I would have relaxed more but for the one thing worse than a talker, a ned with headphones!  The gentle hum of the modern train was accompanied by a 'shish shish shish,' from behind.  I look at my watch and wonder if I, or any other passenger, can avoid decapitating the cretin before the next stop.  I like music, I like loud music, but I do not like meaningless 'shish shish shish,' while observing the world pass me by (as it often does). Would you believe that two more young neds were found on the second train? Surely murder is acceptable in such circumstances?  I changed trains and hung about the platform for an age while awaiting the second journey.  The sky was blue, the wind chill factor high, but although my fingers began to freeze I enjoyed watching the trains pass by.  I loved the other recorded not so sexy voiced lassies announcement that "The train approaching platform 3 does not stop here," which begins as the train is already a third of the way up the platform at 80 miles an hour!  Which brings me to the notice. Those notices, small yellow things, which inform the reader to 'Keep back from platform edge,' and helpfully inform that "Passing trains cause air turbulence, Stand behind yellow line." Now at first sight this appears sensible, but as I read this the yellow line was behind me.  If I then stood behind it I would have found myself sitting on top of a 'Sealand' container and half way to Felixstowe!  Tsk, these signs need to explain the point better I say.  You would be disappointed if I was to end up on the 3:45 and be found half dead in Shanghai wouldn't you?  What...? oh!






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