7 July 2009 (Tuesday) - Management, Margate, Beer and a Birthday

As I approach the middle of week ten of my twelve week secondment, a senior manager today expressed surprise at what I’ve been doing with my time, and wonders if my time might have been better spent doing something completely different instead. One wonders if such wisdom might have been better imparted two months ago, but one keeps smiling.

To Margate where I saw the biggest bravest seagull you ever did see. Seagulls are getting larger every day, and they have no fear. As I drove into the car park at Margate, one stopped waddling and just stared at me as I drove toward it. It wasn’t going to move. In the end I stopped the car and beeped the hooter before the thing deigned to shift itself. Its mate (pictured above) was equally fearless.

Half way through my lecture about malaria there was the loudest thunderclap. After all the heat of the last week or so, now we’ve got the rain. Torrential rain. I just hope it clears up for the weekend.

Well, if it don’t I’ve got the beer ready for “Emergency Plan B”. It won’t be the first time a kite festival has been abandoned in favour of a booze-up. I went to Tesco for the beer, but a combination of a pathetic beer selection combined with an over-abundance of retards made me give up with Tesco’s. There are only so many children you can (literally) trip over before you see red. So I went to Asda. I don’t like Asda. The cark park is tortuous, you have to pay to park, and it too was full of retards. There wasn’t a single customer in there who was actually looking where it was going. The entire lot of them were blindly blundering around, bouncing off of shelves, trolleys, groceries and other shoppers alike. But the beer selection was better than Tesco’s. I’ve bought thirty two bottles of ale and a bottle of port. It won’t last the weekend.

And so to Andy & Heather’s. A birthday, and birthday cake is always popular. As was Star Trek meets Family Guy. Must watch more of that….

6 July 2009 (Monday) - Google Newsgroups

Yesterday I mentioned the blog’s “Recent Visitors Map”. Last night there was a hit from Thailand, and this afternoon one from New York.

For some years I’ve been subscribing to various Google newsgroups. Newsgroups are a bit like internet forums, but the difference between an on-line forum and a newsgroup is that forums have moderation. A few years ago, newsgroups were good. You could have a good chat on a range of subjects, learn something new.. It was through them that I got free magnets when badge-making (as a fund raiser) in 2004. And I met my mate in Sevenoaks that way.

But nowadays, newsgroups are a shambles. For years I regularly logged into the same dozen each day, and they’ve all gone the same way. What once were constructive discussions is now little more than soapboxes for the deranged. I first started mucking about on Google Groups round about Easter 2002. After some seven years of using them to argue my way around the world, I’ve decided to call it a day and cancel my account with giganews.

The medical-related groups I subscribed to have all been spammed to death by a twit from Calgary who expounds the theory that God made all the elements except iron, which was made by Satan. There’s no reasoning with the chap – he’s totally convinced himself and anyone who disagrees gets some quite serious abuse. I say “serious abuse” –he considers himself a Christian. So anyone who disagrees with him gets called every foul name under the sun, but he leaves out the vowels so as not to upset God. My favourite insult was to be called a fkdnthhdmthrfkr. It would be amusing if it hadn’t killed what was once a useful resource.

Another Canadian, who goes by the web-alias of “The Doctor” is doing his utmost to kill off all the Doctor Who related groups.

The astronomy groups also attract the nutters, Apollo conspiracy theorists and flat-earthers. And the Koi ones attract nut cases to the point where most of the posts are racial abuse and hate mail. To see someone mention anything remotely fish-related is a rarity.

The local group (which was good several years ago) was all but destroyed some time ago by a twit from Canterbury (who on occasion openly admitted mental health problems) who would savagely attack any and all new posters who weren’t part of his little clique. And what was left has more recently been kicked firmly in the goolies by a chap from Charing who obsesses about the public sector conspiring to bring down civilisation.

The NeverWinter forum probably never had more than six contributors in all the years I subscribed to it, and the kite flying one attracts maybe three messages per month. The cycling group is similarly dead.

In theory you can use newsgroups to discuss a range of topics. In practice it’s a waste of money. Those groups which aren’t dead are being actively killed. I’ve gone from making dozens of postings a day down to sending maybe one a week. Cancelling the account will save me a fiver each month – that’s a pint and a half more beer…

5 July 2009 (Sunday) - To Church

You might have noticed that at the bottom of this page there is a hit counter. If you click on “View Site Stats” it brings up a separate window showing all sots of nonsense about my loyal readership – how many people read it each day, how many people are first-time visitors and how many are returning. On the left hand side there is an option “Recent Visitors Map”. Yesterday as well as my loyal readers from the UK, USA and Canada I had hits from the Republic of Ireland, the Canary Islands and from Italy. I can’t help but wonder who they were.

A restless night – by the time I’d done the ironing and composed a crossword & letter to the chokey it was gone midnight. I couldn’t get to sleep, and lay restless for an hour. Once I eventually nodded off, ‘er indoors ^TM came home. It is from her that “My Boy ^TM ” inherits his ninja-like stealth. Not content with making enough racket to wake the dead, she then decided to attack and fight me for my blanket, claiming it was hers. It might have been once. It isn’t any more – I’ve stolen it. I got maybe an hour’s sleep before waking again. It was too hot. At 5am I was doing washing up and having a shave. I eventually wandered back to bed, and nodded off around 6am. At 6.30 the phone went. Work had a problem. So I was off to the hospital for an hour, before once more trying to get some kip. The phone rang just before 9am – a voice message asking if I had a contact number for Sophie. I had no idea who the message was from, or who Sophie is (or was), so at that point I gave up and went for brekkie.

It’s Sunday – to church. Together with a dozen or so mates, Enrique had his first Holy Communion. The church was packed to heaving – with at least five people to a pew, and fifty pews, to say nothing of people standing all along the sides of the church. I was in with the crowd standing at the back and there were loads of congregants (!) in the balcony. There must have been about five hundred people there. The left footers would seem to be doing a roaring trade – the boss vicar (they had three vicars!) said that they’d done thirty nine baptisms this year. And they were organised – I remember Holy Communion from my days in Methodism. It would take twenty minutes to do twenty people. The left footers shifted several hundred in ten minutes. The service was a bit…. Well, I suppose like most church services, you need to know what’s going on. Standing up, kneeling down, up and down. But having said that, this is my third time in church this year, and I think that if I have to go to church, I’d rather go R.C. There’s a sense of ceremony with the left footers that the C of E and the Baptists seem to be missing.

And then to the post church bunfight. Despite the close proximity of fit cousins, I spent most of the afternoon sniffing round Enrique’s fit teacher (who’d come along) Things have perked up since I was in school…

4 July 2009 (Saturday) - Cycling To Warehorne

A cycle ride to Warehorne for a ploughman’s lunch. Over the last few weeks I’ve had no end of problems trying to publicise these little outings – emails seem to vanish into cyberspace, and my mobile sends texts to people’s landlines. I shall put up forthcoming events in the “Dates for the Diary” blog section to the right and hope that this is a good way of letting people know what I’m up to. If you don’t read my blog, could you let me know so’s I can tell you to look at it to find out what’s going on.

Up until a couple of months ago I would have confidently said that Warehorne is too far away to comfortably cycle. Today the journey there took less than an hour. If this cycling prowess continues, by the end of the summer a cycle ride to Rye and back should be on the cards.

The World’s Wonder in Warehorne is one of my current favourite pubs, if for no other reason than “Wonderbrew”. A beer that Goachers brew especially for the place. I say “especially” – there are other pubs for which Goachers brew special beers, and all these “one-off” beers taste suspiciously similar.

We arrived at the World’s Wonder, rearranged the tables and soon the non-cyclists were with us. Dinner was ordered – you can’t go wrong with a stilton ploughman’s. I’m getting just a tad predictable here. Whilst we ate, more cyclists arrived. And more. And more. All of them well into their sixties. One of them came over to us thinking we were part of their group. We got chatting - it turned out that the “Kent & Sussex Cycling Fellowship” had arranged to have a meeting there today. I must admit that some of those chaps on their bikes put me to shame.

It would have been quite pleasant to have sat in the beer garden all afternoon, but we got back on the bikes and set off back for home. ‘er indoors ^TM had a mishap with her chain, but that was easily fixed. Gear cables tend to stretch, and both our bikes could do with a service. After ten minutes of puffing up the road my phone rang. Brian had already got to the Kings Head in Shadoxhurst – should he get the beers in? A difficult decision, I’m sure my loyal readers will agree. Shepherd Neame mild and a selection of olives. Very nice. Batty & Tina then set off for home whilst Brian and I had a pint of Bishop’s Finger for afters. I’ve not seen Bishop’s Finger on a hand pump since the day of Jack in the Green back in May, and then it had run out.

We arrived home, puffed for a few minutes, then all piled into the Bat-Mobile to Lakeside. Batty had been admiring the small rack on my bike, and wanted to go to Decathlon to get one. If anyone is ever going to Decathlon, I’ll always go along for the ride. The clothing is so cheap there, and there’s not many places that do pink T shirts in my size.

This evening once I’d done the ironing I sat down to do the household accounts. Basically I see what’s gone out of the bank, and what’s appeared on my credit card. And then see if it agrees with what I think it should be. A time consuming job, but worth doing. It amazes me that there are people who don’t check these things. I once found that I was paying for a phone I’d long since cancelled, and got a substantial refund. And another time I found the leccie people had helped themselves to large amounts of my wonga without telling me.

Today I noticed when going through credit card receipts that a lot of shops are now itemising the cost of the goods separately from the cost of the VAT. Take for example this afternoon’s haul from Decathlon – I stumped up £49.70 on assorted t shirts, trousers and camping kettles. But Decathlon has taken the trouble to tell me that without VAT it would have cost £43.20. Well, that’s no surprise really. I have a degree in mathematics and could easily have worked it out for myself. I wonder why they are doing this. They aren’t alone – several shops are doing the same. Is someone somewhere making a political statement…..

3 July 2009 (Friday) - Phone calls, Margate, Lino...

Last night I griped that the gas people were digging up the road again. Because they had once more done the job wrong and had to put it right. They still haven’t filled in the holes further down my road, and I’ve heard rumours that next week work is starting in Christchurch Road. That will make parking far worse than anything we’ve seen yet. I’ve pictured the hole above. As you can see, after less than a day, people are using it as somewhere to drop litter.

So at 9am I phoned Kent Highways on 08458 247 800, and quoted the old reference of 16282635. “Desmond” had a look in his records, and reacted as though he’d never heard of the concept of road works before. He did his level best to deny any knowledge or responsibility about the hole in the road, and tried to pass all the blame onto the contractor. I wasn’t having any of that – holes can’t be dug in roads without the say-so of Kent County Council, and so surely KCC must have the responsibility of keeping tabs on what the contractors are doing. If not, what’s to stop the entire county being dug up? Eventually he conceded defeat, once more took down the details I’d given KCC so many times, and said he’d get back to me.

“Clarice” phoned back at 10.15 to say she was now on the case, and would let me know developments as they occurred.

What are the gas board playing at? Until he retired, my father’s job was to inspect gas repairs and works in the road to check that the hole could be filled in. Doesn’t anyone inspect the work any more?

The latest missive from the chokey arrived today. It would seem that yet again I’d stuffed up a crossword clue – the “S” word had seven letters, not six as I’d put in the clue. Still, it’s not as though he (or anyone else) could have solved the crossword anyway – here’s a clue from the same crossword: “The journey to the toilet (having gambled and lost) with a waddle, a quack, and a very unhappy frown (4,8)”. Having said that, I’m not sure that I should say much more. “Plod” have intercepted other letters to HMP Slade and have made third hand announcements that I’m not supposed to discuss my mate on an open blog.

I had a phone call from the chokey last night. “Norman Stanley” phoned me to tell me to take no notice of the edict. He said that if “Plod” has instructions for me, they can tell me directly. I can’t help but agree with him.

To Ashford Cycle Centre to buy a pump for my bike. The shop was swathed in "No Parking" signs, so I parked outside the shop opposite which had loads of parking spaces. As I was walking across to the cycle shop, some bloke came out of the shop where I'd parked and told me that it was no parking there too.

So I went to Halfords and bought my pump there. And then I phoned Ashford Cycle Centre to ask where I should park in future. They said I should park outside their shop. When I asked about all the no parking signs, they told me these are to deter visitors to other shops from parking there. It would seem there’s no love lost between the businesses on that estate. I can’t be doing with that. I shall stick with Halfords.

Whilst in Halfords, “Clarice” phoned me on my mobile. She’d done some research and found that there was a department that co-ordinates digging of holes with actually doing work in them, and then filling them in again. I would have thought that such a department was an integral and essential part of Kent Highways, but what do I know? However there was bad news. There would be no one in that department until Monday.

Work was better than usual today. On a late start and straight into a meeting for an hour. Then to Margate where I was doing a tutorial on iron. Did you know that for all we’ll die without the stuff, it can be rather toxic? The tutorial went well – we got onto the body’s defences against germs, and I illustrated immunological physiology with new and old tattoos. Some people use big words from text books. Me – I use knob jokes and tattoos. I like to think people learn more from my way. As part of my secondment once a week I’m doing teaching sessions with a group of students in Margate. Having been so fed up with my job for so long, it’s really good to be going over there. They are really friendly, keen enthusiastic people – it’s a real pleasure to spend time with them. Shame I only have three weeks left.

Home at 8.30pm to find that “Daddies Little Angel ^TM ” has burned a hole in the lino whilst cooking cakes. I realise the obvious question is “how?”, but I find it best not to ask but to just accept these things….

2 July 2009 (Thursday) - Another Day...

I see that nearly a third of the members of the members of the Scottish parliament agreed with me that Scottish home rule is a waste of time and money yesterday. The Queen made the effort and showed her face there. Her Majesty wasn’t particularly well, (I think she’s looking very frail these days) but she turned up to what was supposed to have been an historic occasion.

Nearly forty per cent of the MSPs couldn’t be bothered to show up to celebrate ten years of Scottish home rule, citing excuses as lame as umpiring a cricket match, moving office, visiting a creamery, socialising with asylum seekers and opening a footpath.

The 163 children born in Scotland on the day that the Scottish parliament opened were invited to the occasion. 143 came along – only ten per cent of them didn’t. Ten year olds could make the effort that paid parliamentarians wouldn’t.

It’s just another reason why the Scottish parliament is a total waste of money. The building itself has cost over £430 million, and costs over £70 million a year in running costs. Why on Earth do we have a Scottish parliament? Surely in the twenty-first century such small mindedness should be behind us. Surely we should be looking to a unified humanity with a world government.

We shouldn’t be harping back to home rule. Where does home rule end? Do we really want to go back to the dark ages when each individual county had its own King? And why should Ashford be beholden to edicts from far-off Maidstone? Come to that, what does “Johnny Foreigner” at the Stour Centre know about my concerns in Beaver Road?

Meanwhile the world is a sadder place as we say goodbye to Mrs Slocombe. Molly Sugden died today. She was eighty-six. Only four years older than Her Majesty….

Regular readers of this drivel may recall my entry of 16^th June when I commented that after six months, the road works outside my house had been finished. Two weeks and two days later I’ve just had someone ringing the doorbell. Someone in overalls. Would I please move my car because they want to dig the road up. As I type this, the pneumatic drill is going again. And so is my blood pressure….

1 July 2009 (Wednesday) - Back to Canada?

Last night we watched the last episode of “The 4400”. Over the last sixteen years, every Tuesday evening I’ve sat with friends and we’ve watched no end of TV series. I liked “The 4400” because I didn’t fall asleep though any of it – which is quite unheard of. What I particularly liked about it was that being filmed in and around Vancouver, I recognised many of the places on the screen. I loved British Columbia when I was there. I’ve been there twice – it’s the most beautiful place in the world. Both times I went I was knee deep in cubs and scouts. Seeing it again on the telly has made me want to go back there. I wonder if I can scare up a cheap package holiday. It’s a long flight, but I can put up with that.

Quite appropriate I should be thinking of going there again, bearing in mind it’s Canada Day today.

And then, seeing as it was such a lovely evening we went for a cycle ride up to the Golden Ball (in Kennington). A strange pub – the surroundings were beautiful. The pub itself is that which you would expect to find in the grimmest of council estates. And the mild was sour. So we cycled home again. We won’t bother with that place again…