Yet another reality TV program has now thankfully come to an end.
Britain's Got Talent has just been won by a young girl and a dog - fair play to them, she trained the dog well to do a bit of a walk around the stage and dance up and down and as a result of which she's just won half a million of Britain's economic spondoolies plus the chance to parade herself and the canine companion in front of Queen Lizzie at the Royal Variety Performance but hey at the end of the day its just a girl and her dog.
Are we really driven to watch such "talent" as this? Can we now please stop with all the wannabees who try and fail to impress us on these over the top all singing, all dancing fake tanned fake dance routines fake musical girls and boys. I say bring back Bob Blackman, now he was a guy who really did have a unique "talent". http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i8IbvVTXOIo
Wingwalker
Saturday 12 May 2012
Tuesday 1 May 2012
Good and Bad
In my last blog I wrote that my partner and I were recently in the news. What started as a tiny article on the inside pages of a free newspaper suddenly became headline media all around the world resulting in journalists and TV companies constantly on the phone wanting to know more. Facebook and Twitter buzzed and before we knew it we were receiving messages from people in New York City, Dubai and Melbourne Australia.
And all because it was something nice to read about for a change.
Far too often you hear about shootings, stabbings, muggings rape and death. We are told about how a soldier is killed in Afghanistan whilst on routine patrol, or how a gang of teenagers stab another of equal age in cold blood, just because they were wearing a certain kind of shoe.
Turn on the TV and watch any scene in any episode of Eastenders and what have you got? Depression, doom, gloom, shouting and an utter contempt for anything that resembles part of the English language with their ever present key phrase of “What’s goin on?”
The residents of the Chatsworth Estate in “Shameless” glorify drug use, sex in public and the knocking back of several pints til they are wasted beyond the point of being able to stand up, let alone have an “intelligent” conversation. If in fact there is any form of intelligence on there.
Computer games promote war, violence is good. Theft and prostitution are now entertainment. Spill the blood, harder and harder like and addict needs their next fix. The scale rises and the killings increase.
So why did we suddenly become the centre of the entire world’s attention? From newspapers to websites everyone wanted a piece of our story. As the world turned and new people were waking up the news continued. We were commented on both good and bad. Our faces were in print, on the web and on TV. We were talked about in offices, factories, schools and on the radio. People came up to us and offered us food, drinks and invitations to events. They were happy, they were smiling and they wanted to meet us. And all this just because someone noticed how my partner and I say goodbye to each other in a loving and caring way as we both go our separate ways off to work every morning.
To coin a phrase, every generation blames the one before. Sadly it would seem that childhood is now lost on the innocent ones and that before the age of just 6 years old most infants will have witnessed enough violence, bad language and sexually explicit material that in days gone by would have lasted someone an entire lifetime. You can’t wrap someone up in cotton wool but you can at least let a child be a child. Life is harsh and can be cruel but is it really necessary to subject someone so young to life in the adult world before their time? Is it any wonder our little darlings are turning into little demons?
In one sense I wonder, is it too late to turn the tables back to times gone by when love thy neighbour meant more than jumping into the sack with the girl next door. Discipline and punishment are now words long forgotten in the English language. The do good PC brigade waded in with their big size 12 boots and told us all to reason with a youngster when they do wrong – send them to a naughty step and let them think about their actions. Well quite frankly I’ve had enough of listening to them as clearly it would seem that their approach to getting a child to understand an inappropriate action is not working.
In the past a child would have been smacked as a form of discipline, before then they would have been sent up a chimney but seeing as most people nowadays use central heating then the chimney option you can sort of rule out. I was smacked as a child when disciplined, as were so many others of my generation and we turned out ok. We learnt the difference between right and wrong, we learnt to respect others and we learnt that if we were good then the chances are you could get into the sack with the girl next door. It’s true that you shouldn’t beat a child – or anyone for that matter to within an inch of their lives but reasonable chastisement to allow the developing mind to understand what is right and what is wrong should in my opinion be reintroduced.
Unfortunately for all the good things that the great big internet has brought to us over the past 25 years the equal and exact opposite has happened too and that imagery which is so readily available to one and all can have a corrupting effect on young and old alike. Maybe one day enough people will think the same as me and start to lobby the politicians, the decision makers and the ones with the ability to make the changes, happen but until then I fear that we may be on an ever decreasing spiral. As Stephen Spielberg’s ET once said, Be Good, so come on people this is the start of the 21st century, let’s all make a small change to ourselves but a big change to humanity.
Wingwalker.
Saturday 21 April 2012
15 minutes of fame
The starangest thing has happened to Laura and I over the past week, Its been a bit surreal and pretty mind blowing.
It's been an interesting 8 days. Starting off last Tuesday with a text to the Metro newspaper that someone sent in about us and how we say goodbye to each other at London Bridge station. This prompted a few responses throughout the week which ended up with Laura and I appearing literally all over the global media. Yesterday we became headline news appearing on the front page of the Daily Mail online, we were talked about on BBC breakfast news, Loose Women and a whole host of radio phone ins. Then it went viral and by last night thousands of people were commenting on us as we appeared in newspapers and websites right across the planet. People from New York City to Dubai to Melbourne were talking about us and sending us messages (both good and bad). Facebook and Twitter went mental and by ten o’clock this morning if you Google our names together we took up not 11 results but the first 11 pages!!!
Things are starting to ease off a bit now and the 15 minutes of fame is coming to an end - although there are still more journalists who keep wanting to interview us. We think that some of the comedy news programs may still pick up on things such as Russell Howard, Mock the Week, Have I got News for You and Graham Norton so we are just waiting and seeing what happens. Its been quite a nice feeling despite some very nasty comments publicly said about us but we knew that we were going to be in the public eye and so have taken the rough with the smooth.
To see any of the articles just Google David Walker Laura O'Meara without quote marks and see for yourself. However, the photo's were all done for camera and we are note entirely like that at the station.....Honest :-)
In case you are too lazy to search, here's a link for you http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2130788/Couple-kiss-London-Bridge-station.html
Wingwalker
Friday 13 April 2012
On the water
Bless me Father for I have sinned as it has been nearly three weeks since my last blog.
The truth is I've had writers block coupled with a series of late nights, early mornings and tiredness I've not been able to pinpoint one particular subject to write about. So here are a few short things that have been on my mind lately.
Volunteering.
Recently my fiancee and I helped out in an anual event that we have now done for the past three years, The Devizes to Westminster Canoe Challenge http://www.dwrace.org.uk/ this is how the organisers describe it in their very own words...
The Devizes to Westminster International Canoe Race starts in Devizes, Wiltshire and finishes just downstream of Westminster Bridge in London, opposite the Houses of Parliament. The race has been held annually over the Easter Weekend since 1948. |
The race is 125 miles long and has 77 portages. The first 52 miles are along the Kennet and Avon Canal, the next 55 miles are on the River Thames and the final section is on the tidal portion of the Thames. |
The race is a severe test of skill and stamina which produces a memorable sense of achievement for those successfully completing it. The non-stop version of the race is the longest non-stop canoe race in the world. |
We take part in the finishing stage either helping to get the canoeists out of the water at the end or in the radio comms hut co-ordinating the specialist teams of safety boats, First Aid crew and everything else in-between. Its a big event which is enjoyed by an enormous amount of people.
For us, to volunteer our time and help others for non payment is what we do. The cameraderie of other like minded individuals all joining together to make the event a success is enough of a reward and to see it all come together is quite awesome - although the free bacon butties and steaming cup of coffee by the River Thames as Big Ben strikes a stupid hour on a Sunday morning is not bad either.
Sadly though I feel that this country is divided in two and that the gap is getting wider. There are the do-ers and there are the takers, and it seems to me that more people are now on the take than to give up their spare time for just a few small hours every now and then to help others for a worthwhile cause. Of course there is always the other side of the coin where a large portion of society do volunteer to take part in an activity, whether it is helping out backstage of a theatre through to cleaning a few weeds in a community garden, and to those people you have my admiration. So give yourselves a pat on the back.
Oxford V Cambridge Boat Race
Keeping with the nautical theme did anyone see the farce that was this years Oxford versus Cambridge boat race? Every year the crowds in their thousands line the banks along the River Thames from Putney to Mortlake, joined by millions of others around the world as they watch it live on television. 2012 sees the 158th race which was first started in 1829 and is widely known as being one of the oldest sporting events in the world.
This year started off like so many others in times gone by. The hype, the hysteria and the last minute preparations before the two teams of rowers move up to the start line. Interviews are done with the press, previous champions talk to camera crews and the bantering between the two teams and their rivaling supporters starts to rise.
And then they're off!
Oxford start with a narrow lead but are shortly caught up by Cambridge. The two cox's shout words of encouragement and various demands to get the most out of their teams whilst the crews themselves slog out the battle between their opposite numbers. Concentration, skill, endurance and seven months of hellish training all come down to this very point. They fight. They row. They are in the zone.
Neck and neck they travel, the speed is now increasing as they turn round one bend and then another. Cambridge take the lead but this time Oxford catches them up. More shouting, more encouragement, the excitement is building up. The crowds go wild, screaming from the embankment, people in their homes are shouting at their televisions in support of their team. An ariel shot from an overhead news chopper shows the two teams fighting it out between them still level as they go over the half way mark and then.........
Cambridge stop, their paddles flat in the water. Oxford stop, they too have put their paddles down. What's going on?
The next thing you see is what first appears to be a man overboard, yet he is wearing a full wetsuit. Who is he? Why is he there? And more importantly, what's he up to?
Well the answer to all three is that he's a bit of a plank! A narrow minded protester getting his 15 minutes of fame who will eventually end up one day being subject to a question on Who wants to be a Millionare.
The race starts again from where they started. Over thirty minutes have gone by and the crews are tired, wet and cold. They start again but barely ten seconds into the race Oxford lose a paddle due to being too close to Cambridge's boat. Now, seven men are doing the work of eight but of course its all in vain as Cambridge being at full strength and speed zoom off to the finish line and become victorious.
A minute or two later and Oxford cross the line also. Exhausted they slope back into their seats and try to work out what has happened over the previous hour. However, all is not well as their bowman Dr Alexander Woods is seen collapsed and has to receive medical attention. He is taken to Charing Cross hospital but was allowed home the following day.
As a mark of respect in relation to Dr Woods unknown condition at the time, Cambridge decide not to have the usual pomp and circumstance trophy giving ceremony as the mood is now sombre and somewhat completely different to just a short time beforehand. The boats are brought out of the water, TV camera's are turned off and everyone goes home. Hopefully next year will be just as dramatic but this time for all the right reasons.
For anyone who missed the boat race you can see a clip of the main incident here... http://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/0/rowing/17645929
Wingwalker.
Wednesday 28 March 2012
Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink
According to the experts we are rapidly heading towards a water drought. After two consecutive years of unusually low rainfall London, the south and south east are becoming quite heavily affected with low water levels in reservoirs and now according to the news this morning, parts of Yorkshire too.
The first you get to hear of it is when the press start to scream those ever immortal words, Hosepipe Ban, usually around the first or second of January. Britain wouldn’t be Britain if we didn’t have Easter Eggs on sale at Christmas, our daily fix of Countdown and the annual Hosepipe Ban by the water authorities. Now don’t get me wrong, water is a powerful commodity and something that every living creature on the planet needs to have so to preserve its reserves is quite rightly an important thing. But when we are literally surrounded by the stuff being based on this little biddly Island just off the coast of Europe, why on earth has no-one come up with a cost effective solution yet to purify sea water into drinking water?
Of course we as individuals can all do our little bit to help prevent water wastage such as water your plants with dirty dish water, turn off the tap when brushing your teeth or for the best fun of all, bathe with a friend, wayhey! I’m sure that there are plenty of other top tips and if anyone cares to share them on here then be my guest, but one thing that miffs me the most about the water companies and their message for us to do our bit is how much wastage is caused by their leaking pipes contained within our ancient underground network.
At the bottom of my road the pavement has been dug up for nearly three weeks due to such an incident. The tiny trickle of water that had made its way to the surface and gently down to the roadside has caused quite a lengthy “repair” operation – let alone what I also assume to be a costly repair bill. However, the boffins at Thames Water have come up with a clever little gizmo called the Leak Frog which they are saying is detecting where leaks are happening around the home and helping to point out where repairs may be necessary to an individual homeowner.
So far, of the 70,000 homes fitted with these devices, over 2100 have had repair work carried out which they say has saved around 10 million litres every day – or in other words, enough to fill up an Olympic sized swimming pool four times over. And that's a lot! For more information on the Leak Frog, click on this link http://www.thameswater.co.uk/cps/rde/xchg/corp/hs.xsl/13995.htm
And finally, I always seem to be amazed or amused depending on your viewpoint how when natural spring water that is full of all the good things and none of the bad things taking thousands of years to develop will suddenly have a best before end date just two months after you have bought it.
It’s madness!
Wingwalker
Tuesday 20 March 2012
Who killed Frank Foster? Part 2
Well. I didn’t see that one coming!
It was his mum, Anne (Gwen Taylor) she killed him. Phwoooaaarrr the story line got hotter last night as it was revealed that Frank Fosters own mother accidentally killed her son after finding out that he did in actual fact rape Carla Connor.
The revelation came after the funeral for Frank where Sally Webster went to pay Anne a visit at her home to see how she was. Sobbing in a back bedroom, Anne is found clutching a vital piece of evidence, a watch belonging to her late husband which Frank was wearing at the time of the rape. Delirious and overcome with grief, she spills all to Sally, but realising that she is now in the presence of a murderer Sally makes a run for it only to trip up on the landing and knocks herself out.
Instead of calling for an ambulance, Anne decides she has to get away, out of the country and fast! She throws everything into a couple of suitcases and is just about to walk out of the house when none other than Carla appears at the door wanting to know answers to questions about Frank and the business in the long running saga you can only get in soap land.
At first Anne tries to remain calm and takes Carla through to the kitchen but then Sally’s mobile rings as her former husband Kevin tried to contact her. Anne makes a futile attempt to try and answer it but is unable as the phone is locked. Realising that the phone has come out of Sally’s handbag Carla starts to search the house calling out for her but this makes Anne her flip her lid and she draws a kitchen knife on Carla blocking her way. Ooooo it gets better…
Now Carla is trapped and looking straight down the blade of a 12 inch carving knife. Anne is getting more and more distressed and I must say she played her part very very well. She starts to wave the knife around and relays to Carla that it was she who killed her son by accident as she grabbed the bottle of whiskey and struck him over the head with it just at the top of the stairs.
Meanwhile…
Kevin decides to go round to the house after finding out where Sally had gone to as it is unusual for her not to answer the phone. He arrives at the front porch and see’s through the window Anne trapping Carla with the knife. Quick as a flash he runs round to the garage where by sheer fluke it happens to not only be open but also has an inter connecting door to the house…..which is also open. He creeps inside and with the aid of Carla they both over power Anne who drops the knife and falls to the floor in a gibbering wreck. Carla calls for the police and an ambulance and as the credits roll you think to yourself, oh Kevin, you’re my hero…
Wingwalker.
Monday 12 March 2012
Who Killed Frank Foster?
In the fictional town of Weatherfield supposedly located within the suburbs of Manchester, Coronation Street's resident bad boy Frank Foster, played by actor Andrew Lancel, has just been found murdered in his factory which he jointly owned with Carla Connor.
Frank has had a colourful and varied past. His exploits include alleged rape, extortion, playing the field and generally being all round Mr Nasty. The list of people who have a good motive for wanting to see Frank shift off this mortal coil seem to be ever growing. So lets have a look at the key suspects.
Carla Connor - (Alison King)
Carla used to be engaged to Frank until the relationship broke down where she accused him of rape but at the trial he was found not guilty giving her an ideal motive. Since then he has tried to cheat her out of her share of the factory adding fuel to the fire. The murder weapon is a whisky bottle covered in Frank's blood and her fingerprints.
Peter Barlow - (Chris Gascoyne)
Peter recently left his wife and son for Carla after a short affair with her. He is a registered alcoholic who has fallen off the wagon and back hitting the booze hard again. On the night of the murder he gets blind drunk, shouting his mouth off against Frank and turns up the next morning with grazed knuckles, unknown blood on his shirt and severe memory loss. Unfortunately for him it is found that he bought the whisky on his credit card.
Sally Webster - (Sally Whittaker)
Recently jilted and embarrassed publically by Frank, we find Sally next to Frank at the foot of the stairs of the factory covered in blood. We know that she went to confront him after hours but what happened next?
Kevin Webster - (Michael Le Vell)
Sally left husband Kevin of over 20 years due to his love child but he still has feelings for her and was angry about her relationships. He wants to win her affections once more......slightly odd way of showing it though.
Michelle Connor - (Kym Marsh)
So far Michelle has been very much in the background playing the supportive friend and manager of the factory. At the moment you see very little of her with just the occasional scene of her and Carla or the factory staff. We have just found out that she stole the contract that Frank used to deceive Carla into signing away her share of the factory to him as without the paperwork there is no deal.
In the classic whodunnit style the writers of this poular British TV soap that has now been running for over 50 years, have come up trumps yet again with a ratings winner pulling in over 8.5 million viewers on the night of Frank's death. The Police have certainly got their work cut out especially as at the end of tonights episode (March 12th) Peter has gone to them and supposedly handed himself in. It's too soon after the start of the investgation for it to be wrapped up and we the viewer just know that there is more yet to come. This jigsaw is not yet complete and I get the feeling that something quite significant is missing which will only be revealed when the time is right. My guess is that it will be none of the above but is in actual fact the smooth talking fraudster Lewis (Nigel Havers) for reasons yet unknown. However, my dearly beloved disagrees with me and thinks that Rita's (Barbara Knox) new found happiness with Dennis Tanner (Philip Lowrie) is about to be shattered as you are never happy for long in soapland.
What do you think?
Wingwalker
Frank has had a colourful and varied past. His exploits include alleged rape, extortion, playing the field and generally being all round Mr Nasty. The list of people who have a good motive for wanting to see Frank shift off this mortal coil seem to be ever growing. So lets have a look at the key suspects.
Carla Connor - (Alison King)
Carla used to be engaged to Frank until the relationship broke down where she accused him of rape but at the trial he was found not guilty giving her an ideal motive. Since then he has tried to cheat her out of her share of the factory adding fuel to the fire. The murder weapon is a whisky bottle covered in Frank's blood and her fingerprints.
Peter Barlow - (Chris Gascoyne)
Peter recently left his wife and son for Carla after a short affair with her. He is a registered alcoholic who has fallen off the wagon and back hitting the booze hard again. On the night of the murder he gets blind drunk, shouting his mouth off against Frank and turns up the next morning with grazed knuckles, unknown blood on his shirt and severe memory loss. Unfortunately for him it is found that he bought the whisky on his credit card.
Sally Webster - (Sally Whittaker)
Recently jilted and embarrassed publically by Frank, we find Sally next to Frank at the foot of the stairs of the factory covered in blood. We know that she went to confront him after hours but what happened next?
Kevin Webster - (Michael Le Vell)
Sally left husband Kevin of over 20 years due to his love child but he still has feelings for her and was angry about her relationships. He wants to win her affections once more......slightly odd way of showing it though.
Michelle Connor - (Kym Marsh)
So far Michelle has been very much in the background playing the supportive friend and manager of the factory. At the moment you see very little of her with just the occasional scene of her and Carla or the factory staff. We have just found out that she stole the contract that Frank used to deceive Carla into signing away her share of the factory to him as without the paperwork there is no deal.
In the classic whodunnit style the writers of this poular British TV soap that has now been running for over 50 years, have come up trumps yet again with a ratings winner pulling in over 8.5 million viewers on the night of Frank's death. The Police have certainly got their work cut out especially as at the end of tonights episode (March 12th) Peter has gone to them and supposedly handed himself in. It's too soon after the start of the investgation for it to be wrapped up and we the viewer just know that there is more yet to come. This jigsaw is not yet complete and I get the feeling that something quite significant is missing which will only be revealed when the time is right. My guess is that it will be none of the above but is in actual fact the smooth talking fraudster Lewis (Nigel Havers) for reasons yet unknown. However, my dearly beloved disagrees with me and thinks that Rita's (Barbara Knox) new found happiness with Dennis Tanner (Philip Lowrie) is about to be shattered as you are never happy for long in soapland.
What do you think?
Wingwalker
Wednesday 7 March 2012
What do you search for?
Here's a quick one for you...
You look for something on a search engine and it comes up with the results based on the keywords you have written. Then auto suggestion kicks in and you start to see things you didn't actually really want. Suppose you have just recently got engaged - the next thing you see are adverts for baby clothes, toys, prams and everything you can think of, rather than wedding rings, dresses, flowers and cakes etc.
You go out in your car and you rely on your satnav - or crapnav as some people I know call them. You enter the destination you want to go to and you are lucky if it takes you from A to B without going through Z, P, T, J and R first.
In the past you bought an automated telecommunicatatatron device - or telephone as it used to be called in the olden days to make a call and speak to one another. Then someone came up with the idea of sticking a camera on there.....a camera, who would have thought of that? Then came "Apps" and before you know it, BOOM, you buy a phone to listen the radio whilst playing Angry Birds. Making a call is now a secondary requirement.
At what point are we going to "like" something on Facebook before it comes back to you with suggestions of what else you may like. Some people like knitting whereas others like porn. However it may be a little while yet before we see pictures of scantily clad sexy people dressed in your favourite knitwear.
Hmmmmm...
Wingwalker.
You look for something on a search engine and it comes up with the results based on the keywords you have written. Then auto suggestion kicks in and you start to see things you didn't actually really want. Suppose you have just recently got engaged - the next thing you see are adverts for baby clothes, toys, prams and everything you can think of, rather than wedding rings, dresses, flowers and cakes etc.
You go out in your car and you rely on your satnav - or crapnav as some people I know call them. You enter the destination you want to go to and you are lucky if it takes you from A to B without going through Z, P, T, J and R first.
In the past you bought an automated telecommunicatatatron device - or telephone as it used to be called in the olden days to make a call and speak to one another. Then someone came up with the idea of sticking a camera on there.....a camera, who would have thought of that? Then came "Apps" and before you know it, BOOM, you buy a phone to listen the radio whilst playing Angry Birds. Making a call is now a secondary requirement.
At what point are we going to "like" something on Facebook before it comes back to you with suggestions of what else you may like. Some people like knitting whereas others like porn. However it may be a little while yet before we see pictures of scantily clad sexy people dressed in your favourite knitwear.
Hmmmmm...
Wingwalker.
Saturday 25 February 2012
Mind the Gap
Every day I travel just a measily ten miles to work and back yet this may take me sometimes up to two hours each way...And that's rank!
Most days the annoying banal robotic voice comes over the tannoy to tell us how sorry it is my train has been delayed - or worse still, cancelled. Until moving to London, I never knew that robots could be so informative, your train is late due to "a fault with a preceding train", "signalling problems" or "someone has vomited on my lap". If anyone has ever read the book The Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams you will know that Marvin the paranoid android was given GPP - Genuine People's Personality. Well I think that the same should be done with both the male and femaile robotic voices on our transport infrastructure. If all is going well with the London Underground then there should be a party fanfare with whistles, bells and a merrily drunk sounding robot slurring their words. If its bad news then maybe the sound of a single bell tolling on a cold winters morning, a crow caws and the robot starts to mumble.................Hmmmmm then again, maybe not. Although I do find it amusing how the robots on the train tell us that we are next pulling into whatever station, as though it is also a traveller too making their own way to work every day.
Many times I wonder why the train operators only use such short carriages. I don't mean the actual length of the carriage is in minature, more along the lines that there are never enough carriages for the volume of people per train. I think I heard once that it was something to do with carriage length V platform length ratio, and that some platforms are simply not long enough to accommodate all carriages on a single train. Now this argument would make sense were it not for the fact that all carriages are interlinking and you can quite safely walk from one to another without requiring to undertake a risk assessment or method of operation first. So even if a certain platform is too short, you can still board safely and walk through, thus ensuring you get a seat and are not as it currently applies, get yourself wedged under the over large smelly armpit of the man standing next to you with his hand on the upper rail steadying himself as the train moves along. Yuk Yuk!
There are said to be around eight million people that live in London and the surrounding areas, of which around one million travel to the city every day by train. At Waterloo station alone there are 16 platforms and at the height of rushour a new train will arrive and leave every couple of minutes. A typical eight car train is meant to hold around one hundred passengers seated per car. Multiply that by eight and you have eight hundred people. However, for those who have ever been to the busiest station in the country - Clapham on a rushour weekday morning, you will know that this is never the case. Without knowing actual figures I have regularly seen around 1500 people disembark by falling out of the doors as the train stops at Waterloo. If the elf and safety bods would ever allow it then I'm sure that Japanese style packers would be stood on the platforms to cram yet another helpless soul onto another square centimetre of space so they too can join in the robotic chorus, followed quickly by, "Mind the Gap".
Then, as if this was not enough comes the worse part.........someone does a silent fart!
Coughs, sneezes, crowds, invasion of personal space and rising fares are all things that the daily commuter has to put up with, and yet they do it day in day out with very little comment. Most people like myself will bury themselves in a free daily newspaper or book, some will either just sit and look out of the window and stare, some will fall asleep, or pretend to be asleep whilst others play annoying tinny sounding music through their personal headphones. Many thanks mate but if I wanted to listed to the greatest hits of the Goombay Dance Band then I would have bought their Christmas Album when it first came out - although for those of you however who may be interested, you can buy it here http://www.amazon.co.uk/Christmas-Album-Goombay-Dance-Band/dp/B0006J1QKI
There is however a more serious side to all of this. Around 200 deaths a year are caused by people wishing to take their own lives by stepping out in front of a moving train whether it is by overland or underground. Whilst I have never personally whitnessed such an incident, I have been caught up in the delays of the aftermath and the views of some of my fellow commuters I have to say is appalling. As far as they are concerned they have been put out for an hour or so from making their way home and loudly voice their opinions about it. Big Deal! As far as I am concerned, someone has found themselves in such a position that the only exit they could see out of their life, is death, and to do it quickly and as painless as possible by going uder the wheels of a train travelling at sixty miles an hour. As mentioned at the top of this blog, I live ten miles from work and if I have to walk the entire journey home one night due to severe disruptions as a result of a suicide then so be it because at the end of the day I arrive back to a loving partner with open arms and food on the table. And just to point out - yes, I have done it.
On a more lighter note some of the other things you see on your daily travels are tourists. London's full of them. They stop to take pictures of landmarks, they stop to take pictures of people, they stop to take pictures of anything. The worse thing out of all of this is that they usually seem to stop right in front of you, and that can sometimes cause a human pile up. Especially when they try and get their luggage through the barriers at a train station which automatically close once a person et sans luggage has gone through. This invariably results in a trapped suitcase and ear piercing whine from the barrier as it screams at you as if to say to bugger off from my doors.
Often, you will see someone with a map and a cofused look on their face, hell I've even done it myself - in fact when I first moved here I didn't even know what an Oyster card was. Now however, I sometimes feel as though I should wear a badge and peaked cap with the words Tourist Information emblazoned on the top as I get asked so many times how do I get to.... Or, which bus shall I catch? Sometimes my answer of "a red one" causes even greater confusion but then I usually relent and show them where to go.
With the London 2012 Olympics rapidly approaching one question that is on many peoples lips around the capital is how are they going to get from A to B without running into problems of over crowded tubes, buses and trains. The ones running the show assure us that plans are in place to avoid hotspots throughout the duration but I have to say personally that I'm a bit sceptical about it all. Already there are large portions of overcrowding on some routes around the capital and I think its just going to get worse before it gets better. I know that for the benefit of the country, having the Olympics here is quite a feat which should help boost the economy, promote good health, wellbeing and friends amongst nations. After all, the money that is being ploughed into the event it is hoped that we should get a good return for our investment. But from a travel perspective, well we are just going to have to see, only time will tell.
Wingwalker.
Most days the annoying banal robotic voice comes over the tannoy to tell us how sorry it is my train has been delayed - or worse still, cancelled. Until moving to London, I never knew that robots could be so informative, your train is late due to "a fault with a preceding train", "signalling problems" or "someone has vomited on my lap". If anyone has ever read the book The Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams you will know that Marvin the paranoid android was given GPP - Genuine People's Personality. Well I think that the same should be done with both the male and femaile robotic voices on our transport infrastructure. If all is going well with the London Underground then there should be a party fanfare with whistles, bells and a merrily drunk sounding robot slurring their words. If its bad news then maybe the sound of a single bell tolling on a cold winters morning, a crow caws and the robot starts to mumble.................Hmmmmm then again, maybe not. Although I do find it amusing how the robots on the train tell us that we are next pulling into whatever station, as though it is also a traveller too making their own way to work every day.
Many times I wonder why the train operators only use such short carriages. I don't mean the actual length of the carriage is in minature, more along the lines that there are never enough carriages for the volume of people per train. I think I heard once that it was something to do with carriage length V platform length ratio, and that some platforms are simply not long enough to accommodate all carriages on a single train. Now this argument would make sense were it not for the fact that all carriages are interlinking and you can quite safely walk from one to another without requiring to undertake a risk assessment or method of operation first. So even if a certain platform is too short, you can still board safely and walk through, thus ensuring you get a seat and are not as it currently applies, get yourself wedged under the over large smelly armpit of the man standing next to you with his hand on the upper rail steadying himself as the train moves along. Yuk Yuk!
There are said to be around eight million people that live in London and the surrounding areas, of which around one million travel to the city every day by train. At Waterloo station alone there are 16 platforms and at the height of rushour a new train will arrive and leave every couple of minutes. A typical eight car train is meant to hold around one hundred passengers seated per car. Multiply that by eight and you have eight hundred people. However, for those who have ever been to the busiest station in the country - Clapham on a rushour weekday morning, you will know that this is never the case. Without knowing actual figures I have regularly seen around 1500 people disembark by falling out of the doors as the train stops at Waterloo. If the elf and safety bods would ever allow it then I'm sure that Japanese style packers would be stood on the platforms to cram yet another helpless soul onto another square centimetre of space so they too can join in the robotic chorus, followed quickly by, "Mind the Gap".
Then, as if this was not enough comes the worse part.........someone does a silent fart!
Coughs, sneezes, crowds, invasion of personal space and rising fares are all things that the daily commuter has to put up with, and yet they do it day in day out with very little comment. Most people like myself will bury themselves in a free daily newspaper or book, some will either just sit and look out of the window and stare, some will fall asleep, or pretend to be asleep whilst others play annoying tinny sounding music through their personal headphones. Many thanks mate but if I wanted to listed to the greatest hits of the Goombay Dance Band then I would have bought their Christmas Album when it first came out - although for those of you however who may be interested, you can buy it here http://www.amazon.co.uk/Christmas-Album-Goombay-Dance-Band/dp/B0006J1QKI
There is however a more serious side to all of this. Around 200 deaths a year are caused by people wishing to take their own lives by stepping out in front of a moving train whether it is by overland or underground. Whilst I have never personally whitnessed such an incident, I have been caught up in the delays of the aftermath and the views of some of my fellow commuters I have to say is appalling. As far as they are concerned they have been put out for an hour or so from making their way home and loudly voice their opinions about it. Big Deal! As far as I am concerned, someone has found themselves in such a position that the only exit they could see out of their life, is death, and to do it quickly and as painless as possible by going uder the wheels of a train travelling at sixty miles an hour. As mentioned at the top of this blog, I live ten miles from work and if I have to walk the entire journey home one night due to severe disruptions as a result of a suicide then so be it because at the end of the day I arrive back to a loving partner with open arms and food on the table. And just to point out - yes, I have done it.
On a more lighter note some of the other things you see on your daily travels are tourists. London's full of them. They stop to take pictures of landmarks, they stop to take pictures of people, they stop to take pictures of anything. The worse thing out of all of this is that they usually seem to stop right in front of you, and that can sometimes cause a human pile up. Especially when they try and get their luggage through the barriers at a train station which automatically close once a person et sans luggage has gone through. This invariably results in a trapped suitcase and ear piercing whine from the barrier as it screams at you as if to say to bugger off from my doors.
Often, you will see someone with a map and a cofused look on their face, hell I've even done it myself - in fact when I first moved here I didn't even know what an Oyster card was. Now however, I sometimes feel as though I should wear a badge and peaked cap with the words Tourist Information emblazoned on the top as I get asked so many times how do I get to.... Or, which bus shall I catch? Sometimes my answer of "a red one" causes even greater confusion but then I usually relent and show them where to go.
With the London 2012 Olympics rapidly approaching one question that is on many peoples lips around the capital is how are they going to get from A to B without running into problems of over crowded tubes, buses and trains. The ones running the show assure us that plans are in place to avoid hotspots throughout the duration but I have to say personally that I'm a bit sceptical about it all. Already there are large portions of overcrowding on some routes around the capital and I think its just going to get worse before it gets better. I know that for the benefit of the country, having the Olympics here is quite a feat which should help boost the economy, promote good health, wellbeing and friends amongst nations. After all, the money that is being ploughed into the event it is hoped that we should get a good return for our investment. But from a travel perspective, well we are just going to have to see, only time will tell.
Wingwalker.
Adventurers wanted
Wanted! Adventurous couple to join us on a two week holiday around October / November time to drive from London up to the Arctic Circle and back. The aim of the trip is to hopefully see the Auora Borealis (Northern Lights) whilst having a winter wonderland snow filled driving road trip along the way.
We are looking for someone to help share the costs of this trip which will include 4x4 vehicle hire, food, accommodation and any other expenses inbetween. The ideal couple should have at least five years driving experience each including off road 4x4 driving, be experienced in travelling abroad, have the ability to be resourceful, don't mind all weathers and most of all, have a great sense of humour.
If this sounds like you then get in touch and lets have some fun.
Wingwalker.
Note: There will be no guarantee of seeing the Northern Lights when we get there at all but unless you try then you definately wont see anything. Nothing ventured, nothing gained :-)
We are looking for someone to help share the costs of this trip which will include 4x4 vehicle hire, food, accommodation and any other expenses inbetween. The ideal couple should have at least five years driving experience each including off road 4x4 driving, be experienced in travelling abroad, have the ability to be resourceful, don't mind all weathers and most of all, have a great sense of humour.
If this sounds like you then get in touch and lets have some fun.
Wingwalker.
Note: There will be no guarantee of seeing the Northern Lights when we get there at all but unless you try then you definately wont see anything. Nothing ventured, nothing gained :-)
Tuesday 14 February 2012
Dogs V Cats
I hate cats! But lurve dogs :-)
So I've decided to do todays blog on the best and worst of both species and let you come up with what you think is best. With a little help from a couple of others I've come up with a compilation of both the pro's and cons of the cat versus the dog. I'm told that cats are supposedly independent, make good pest control, are affectionate (yea right, my arse - only when they actually want something) are easy to keep, clean and know when to stop eating when they are full.
However, the reality for me is that they have claws, are ignorant, selfish, totally unaffectionate, just want you for your food and as was pointed out to me last night - they like to sit on your head. Although I have to admit that last comment did come to the surface after whiskey had been consumed so I'm not actually sure if it counts??? Oh and did I say, they have claws too. Savagely they rip you apart with their monstrous talons ripping through your jeans as you try and keep them steady on your lap. As a man you have to be particularly careful otherwise you could get more than just your ears pierced. They can also hiss, they can spit and they can dribble.
Dogs however... are cute, lovable, reliable, enthusiastic, can be good hunters as well as good security guards. They can be trained in the art of search and rescue, they can beat crime by sniffing dope and getting legally high on behalf of the authorities and they can do good works by being an extra set of eyes to aid a blind person.
So I've decided to do todays blog on the best and worst of both species and let you come up with what you think is best. With a little help from a couple of others I've come up with a compilation of both the pro's and cons of the cat versus the dog. I'm told that cats are supposedly independent, make good pest control, are affectionate (yea right, my arse - only when they actually want something) are easy to keep, clean and know when to stop eating when they are full.
However, the reality for me is that they have claws, are ignorant, selfish, totally unaffectionate, just want you for your food and as was pointed out to me last night - they like to sit on your head. Although I have to admit that last comment did come to the surface after whiskey had been consumed so I'm not actually sure if it counts??? Oh and did I say, they have claws too. Savagely they rip you apart with their monstrous talons ripping through your jeans as you try and keep them steady on your lap. As a man you have to be particularly careful otherwise you could get more than just your ears pierced. They can also hiss, they can spit and they can dribble.
Dogs however... are cute, lovable, reliable, enthusiastic, can be good hunters as well as good security guards. They can be trained in the art of search and rescue, they can beat crime by sniffing dope and getting legally high on behalf of the authorities and they can do good works by being an extra set of eyes to aid a blind person.
However, according to my dearly beloved - the cat lover, dogs smell, they are stupid and sit in womens handbags. Hardly an argument when the biased is so heavily one sided, but there you are. And just to prove my point, the extract below is from a well known Diary of a dog and cat, I think its wonderful and sums things up in a nutshell...
Dogs diary.
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
Cats diary.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!
So, to summarise.....
Dogs rule, I win :-)
Wingwalker.
Dogs diary.
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
Cats diary.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now ...
So, to summarise.....
Dogs rule, I win :-)
Wingwalker.
Wednesday 8 February 2012
Snot
Love it or hate it we all have it. Earlier today I was challenged with the task of seeing if it was possible to find anyone who has made money out of the stuff as part of a little bet I have with someone. So, does anyone know any really good uses apart from flicking across the room at targets and has anyone ever seen a good commercial use for the mucus we affectionally call snot?
Wingwalker.
Wingwalker.
Saturday 4 February 2012
Bloody foreigners!
Bloody foreigners!
England has more than one boundary. Apart from the obvious of Ireland, Scotland and Wales there is also the additional inclusion of...The M25.
Every time I travel around the country I always feel as though whenever I cross over the M25 border I need to get out my passport to enter into another world, a world of anyone and everyone from outside of the UK. Now as I have stipulated in my introductory to the side of this blog I am fortunate enough to be well travelled and have been across most parts of the globe so I can hardly spout my mouth off when it comes to others visiting this country, when I have been doing it myself often enough the other way around.
The well known and far too often used phrase in this country is "Multiculturalism". We are a multi cultural society. In 1953 England opened up its doors to the outside world and said come on in, do our jobs, get paid a wage and live well. The masses heard our cry and came...in droves, taking the jobs and setting up shanty towns. Enoch Powell said at the time to the UK Government that there are now too many coming in and that all the foreigners will take over but he was shunned at the time and metaphorically shot down in flames.
Before moving to London I used to live in the New Forest not too far from the south coast. Englands green and pleasant land where the ponies and deer roam freely, the air is rich with wildlife, life is pleasant, relaxing and slower paced. The view of a person from outside of the UK other than on a mini break is rare and to have someone live next door even more so. But in London, when it comes to immigrancy, life is a whole world away and just simply could not be further. Interestingly enough a Spanish couple who I know that both live and work in London asked me a question which I found very difficult to answer. They said "why are there so many foreign people in London?" I found this to be an amusing paradox by someone who is residing here from another shoreline asking this type of question. They were viewing our country from the outside looking in and saw what appeared to be an alarming rise on non UK residents.
So why is there such a large volume of people from other shores coming here to live and work in the UK? To try and answer this question in part I was going to quote a few statistics from the UK Home Office website showing the number of visitors we had in 2011. However as always in these kind of cases nothing is ever straight forward when accessing a Government website and I was taken from one link to another with headings, sub headings, catagories and even more sub catagories with no straight forward answer. If you really want to see some figures then you can have a look for yourself here http://www.ukba.homeoffice.gov.uk/
Now at this point I have to say that those who live outside the ringfence that is the M25 - in particular in this case The New Forest there is a quite typical view that these bloody foreigners are coming in, taking our jobs, living in our houses and generally taking over. They claim "asylum" when in reality life is actually quite alright for them back home but all they want is an easy ride, a free loader riding on the benefit gravy train that the UK so seemingly freely gives. However, whilst this does happen, we know it happens, I can now say that I've also seen things from the other side of the coin.
Within all parts of the UK there are people who have come here from foreign lands. London, Manchester, Glasgow and in-between you will see someone who's ancestory was not that of the pure thoroughbred which we call "Saxon British". Generations of individuals from the early 1950's onwards are now born, grow up, work, pay taxes, live their lives and die. They live in their own communities, have their own ways of expressing themselves, eat how they eat, drink how they drink, attend their own type of religious institutes and generally get on with things. The clashes however come to light when they try to instigate their own views with a narrow minded cynisism onto that of others, and since the birth of the internet 25 years ago, their views have expanded expotentially. And so the problems have grown.
Two days ago I was talking to a student from Estonia. He has come to the UK to study and improve his knowledge in his chosen career. We talked at length of comparisons between the two countries ranging from educational establishments through to money, careers and even who has the most evil serial killers (which sadly the UK won on this one - citing the likes of Myra Hindley and Ian Brady, Fred and Rose West and the biggest one of them all - Harold Shipman). However, he told me a story of a friend of his also from Estonia who is living and working over here as a waiter. Nothing unusual about that you might say until you hear that in Estonia this particular individual used to be a senior detective in the Police force!
For the waiting detective (see what I did there) you have got to ask yourself the question why would someone who is in such high authority, leave the country they grew up in and move en masse with their wife and child to go to another land so far away with no certainty of their future to end up working as a waiter? The answer is simple. Money and lifestyle. In the UK a waiter can take home their monthly wage as well as tips, and then depending on how their daily timescale works out, maybe even another part time job to fill in the gap between. And still they will be better off than that of the senior detective who will work all hours and slave away in the hope of catching their man for just a fraction of the wage. In this case, the detective really has come for a better life for he and his family.
And he is not on his own, tens of thousands of individuals are coming over to the UK for a better life than that of the one in their own country. And for any one of those who are willing to work hard, play hard, pay their taxes and contribute to British society then why not let them come in. Unfortunately the problem lies with the freeloaders that we know exist, and for those who are caught by the officials I say kick em back out again. For the narrow minded Brits all they will see is that all foreigners are the same and will tarr them with the same brush. Right or wrong, this will be one of those things that will carry on and on. Whilst the UK Government keeps handing out benefits in the form of money, houses and aid to the asylum claiming freeloaders then the world will keep on knocking at our door.
In my opinion we should stop the problem at its roots. Stop throwing cash into the endless bottomless pit that is a freeloader and come down hard on those who feel they can cheat the system. Show the world that actions like this will not be tolerated and let everyone know we are no longer a soft touch. Sadly, the ones that weild the power in this country often show signs of being spineless when it comes to instances like this. They play the political game of will you be my friend, hoping that if you scratch my back then I'll scratch yours. And whilst this continues the freeloading outsiders will just keep on coming.
Wingwalker.
England has more than one boundary. Apart from the obvious of Ireland, Scotland and Wales there is also the additional inclusion of...The M25.
Every time I travel around the country I always feel as though whenever I cross over the M25 border I need to get out my passport to enter into another world, a world of anyone and everyone from outside of the UK. Now as I have stipulated in my introductory to the side of this blog I am fortunate enough to be well travelled and have been across most parts of the globe so I can hardly spout my mouth off when it comes to others visiting this country, when I have been doing it myself often enough the other way around.
The well known and far too often used phrase in this country is "Multiculturalism". We are a multi cultural society. In 1953 England opened up its doors to the outside world and said come on in, do our jobs, get paid a wage and live well. The masses heard our cry and came...in droves, taking the jobs and setting up shanty towns. Enoch Powell said at the time to the UK Government that there are now too many coming in and that all the foreigners will take over but he was shunned at the time and metaphorically shot down in flames.
Before moving to London I used to live in the New Forest not too far from the south coast. Englands green and pleasant land where the ponies and deer roam freely, the air is rich with wildlife, life is pleasant, relaxing and slower paced. The view of a person from outside of the UK other than on a mini break is rare and to have someone live next door even more so. But in London, when it comes to immigrancy, life is a whole world away and just simply could not be further. Interestingly enough a Spanish couple who I know that both live and work in London asked me a question which I found very difficult to answer. They said "why are there so many foreign people in London?" I found this to be an amusing paradox by someone who is residing here from another shoreline asking this type of question. They were viewing our country from the outside looking in and saw what appeared to be an alarming rise on non UK residents.
So why is there such a large volume of people from other shores coming here to live and work in the UK? To try and answer this question in part I was going to quote a few statistics from the UK Home Office website showing the number of visitors we had in 2011. However as always in these kind of cases nothing is ever straight forward when accessing a Government website and I was taken from one link to another with headings, sub headings, catagories and even more sub catagories with no straight forward answer. If you really want to see some figures then you can have a look for yourself here http://www.ukba.homeoffice.gov.uk/
Now at this point I have to say that those who live outside the ringfence that is the M25 - in particular in this case The New Forest there is a quite typical view that these bloody foreigners are coming in, taking our jobs, living in our houses and generally taking over. They claim "asylum" when in reality life is actually quite alright for them back home but all they want is an easy ride, a free loader riding on the benefit gravy train that the UK so seemingly freely gives. However, whilst this does happen, we know it happens, I can now say that I've also seen things from the other side of the coin.
Within all parts of the UK there are people who have come here from foreign lands. London, Manchester, Glasgow and in-between you will see someone who's ancestory was not that of the pure thoroughbred which we call "Saxon British". Generations of individuals from the early 1950's onwards are now born, grow up, work, pay taxes, live their lives and die. They live in their own communities, have their own ways of expressing themselves, eat how they eat, drink how they drink, attend their own type of religious institutes and generally get on with things. The clashes however come to light when they try to instigate their own views with a narrow minded cynisism onto that of others, and since the birth of the internet 25 years ago, their views have expanded expotentially. And so the problems have grown.
Two days ago I was talking to a student from Estonia. He has come to the UK to study and improve his knowledge in his chosen career. We talked at length of comparisons between the two countries ranging from educational establishments through to money, careers and even who has the most evil serial killers (which sadly the UK won on this one - citing the likes of Myra Hindley and Ian Brady, Fred and Rose West and the biggest one of them all - Harold Shipman). However, he told me a story of a friend of his also from Estonia who is living and working over here as a waiter. Nothing unusual about that you might say until you hear that in Estonia this particular individual used to be a senior detective in the Police force!
For the waiting detective (see what I did there) you have got to ask yourself the question why would someone who is in such high authority, leave the country they grew up in and move en masse with their wife and child to go to another land so far away with no certainty of their future to end up working as a waiter? The answer is simple. Money and lifestyle. In the UK a waiter can take home their monthly wage as well as tips, and then depending on how their daily timescale works out, maybe even another part time job to fill in the gap between. And still they will be better off than that of the senior detective who will work all hours and slave away in the hope of catching their man for just a fraction of the wage. In this case, the detective really has come for a better life for he and his family.
And he is not on his own, tens of thousands of individuals are coming over to the UK for a better life than that of the one in their own country. And for any one of those who are willing to work hard, play hard, pay their taxes and contribute to British society then why not let them come in. Unfortunately the problem lies with the freeloaders that we know exist, and for those who are caught by the officials I say kick em back out again. For the narrow minded Brits all they will see is that all foreigners are the same and will tarr them with the same brush. Right or wrong, this will be one of those things that will carry on and on. Whilst the UK Government keeps handing out benefits in the form of money, houses and aid to the asylum claiming freeloaders then the world will keep on knocking at our door.
In my opinion we should stop the problem at its roots. Stop throwing cash into the endless bottomless pit that is a freeloader and come down hard on those who feel they can cheat the system. Show the world that actions like this will not be tolerated and let everyone know we are no longer a soft touch. Sadly, the ones that weild the power in this country often show signs of being spineless when it comes to instances like this. They play the political game of will you be my friend, hoping that if you scratch my back then I'll scratch yours. And whilst this continues the freeloading outsiders will just keep on coming.
Wingwalker.
Tuesday 31 January 2012
Redundancy
Can you come into my office for a moment please? Your boss asks you. At first you don't think anything unusual as you have been in and out of the office dozens of times on work related matters, but this time its different. As you walk in you see your boss behind his desk and sat alongside is Jane from the HR department. Both ashen faced. What's going on you ask?
Your boss starts to speak, I'll keep this short and to the point, the company has been having to go through a period of re-structuring and I'm afraid to tell you we are going to have to let you go. Your position is now no longer required. Jane will explain to you your rights, here is your redundancy package, it's not you, its the role. Save the speech you think to yourself as your mind slowly starts to spin, your stomach turns into a tight ball and you start to feel physically sick.
Your boss carries on talking but quite frankly at that point the words sound so very far away and you only catch every other line as though they are carried on the wind across a large field of corn. The meeting is over and you are given the rest of the day off work. To sit. To think. To take in you are no longer employed.
What do you do?
Sadly this is the grim true reality of what is happenning to so many people at the moment. You look at the leaflets that Jane from HR has given you and they do offer some good advice so take it. Some people will be glad to get out as they were only slaves to the system and to them its not too much of a worry. But to others, its more of an issue. The physical aspect when news like this is given to someone can be quite unusual and can show how the human body reacts or manifests its'self. Some go into shut down, some dont. Some will go into overdrive, some dont. Others will sit, think and then start what can be the labourious and tedious job of trying to find their next source of income.
A few years ago when this happenned to me I was one of those who went into overdrive. Instantly I panicked and started to text and email anyone and everyone I could think of to see if I could get any work. Although sympathetic, all of them said no and it was not until nearly three months later that I found my next job. In the meantime however I had to sign on and join the what seems to be the ever growing dole queue. I had to contact my bank and various other establishments who I was in financial communication with and explain my situation, but then comes the predicament... How can you make the calls, send the emails, or drive from one place to another when your main body of income has just been slashed to pieces? The calls cost money, the internet costs money and fuel has rocketed so high we are practically going into orbit.
Then there is the more immediate problem of food, drink, water and heating. All of a sudden what you once took for granted is now brought to the forefront of your mind in huge letters and you think to yourself how will I cope? Well, the only advice that I can give having been in that situation is this. Do not panic. Panic leads to irrational thinking and mistakes can be made. Do not be lazy. Thinking to yourself hey I've now got a mini holiday so lets have a few days away can sometimes do you more harm than good. Do get good advice, if you were already in some financial difficulty and this has just made it worse then talk to the professionals. For free and impartial advice make an appointment with your local Citizens Advice Beaureau. Do get your finances into some kind of order wherever possible and think rationally. Little things like do I really need to get a daily newspaper when I only ready half of it anyway, do I need the all singing all dancing package from my satellite supplier or can I get away with a reduced deal - and the real killer for me anyway..... How much chocolate do I eat in a week?
I don't want to come across as condescending or to talk down to anyone so don't take it the wrong way, but I've been there in that situation and its a bitch of a place to be in. At the moment I'm still in a job and most thankful to be here which I say most days. Money is tight and jobs tighter but take a little comfort in that fact that you are not on your own. Others around you will either be going through the same experience or have been through it in the past. If you are strong enough and in the right mind you will get through and it will get better. As the old saying goes, Keep Calm and Carry On.
Wingwalker.
Your boss starts to speak, I'll keep this short and to the point, the company has been having to go through a period of re-structuring and I'm afraid to tell you we are going to have to let you go. Your position is now no longer required. Jane will explain to you your rights, here is your redundancy package, it's not you, its the role. Save the speech you think to yourself as your mind slowly starts to spin, your stomach turns into a tight ball and you start to feel physically sick.
Your boss carries on talking but quite frankly at that point the words sound so very far away and you only catch every other line as though they are carried on the wind across a large field of corn. The meeting is over and you are given the rest of the day off work. To sit. To think. To take in you are no longer employed.
What do you do?
Sadly this is the grim true reality of what is happenning to so many people at the moment. You look at the leaflets that Jane from HR has given you and they do offer some good advice so take it. Some people will be glad to get out as they were only slaves to the system and to them its not too much of a worry. But to others, its more of an issue. The physical aspect when news like this is given to someone can be quite unusual and can show how the human body reacts or manifests its'self. Some go into shut down, some dont. Some will go into overdrive, some dont. Others will sit, think and then start what can be the labourious and tedious job of trying to find their next source of income.
A few years ago when this happenned to me I was one of those who went into overdrive. Instantly I panicked and started to text and email anyone and everyone I could think of to see if I could get any work. Although sympathetic, all of them said no and it was not until nearly three months later that I found my next job. In the meantime however I had to sign on and join the what seems to be the ever growing dole queue. I had to contact my bank and various other establishments who I was in financial communication with and explain my situation, but then comes the predicament... How can you make the calls, send the emails, or drive from one place to another when your main body of income has just been slashed to pieces? The calls cost money, the internet costs money and fuel has rocketed so high we are practically going into orbit.
Then there is the more immediate problem of food, drink, water and heating. All of a sudden what you once took for granted is now brought to the forefront of your mind in huge letters and you think to yourself how will I cope? Well, the only advice that I can give having been in that situation is this. Do not panic. Panic leads to irrational thinking and mistakes can be made. Do not be lazy. Thinking to yourself hey I've now got a mini holiday so lets have a few days away can sometimes do you more harm than good. Do get good advice, if you were already in some financial difficulty and this has just made it worse then talk to the professionals. For free and impartial advice make an appointment with your local Citizens Advice Beaureau. Do get your finances into some kind of order wherever possible and think rationally. Little things like do I really need to get a daily newspaper when I only ready half of it anyway, do I need the all singing all dancing package from my satellite supplier or can I get away with a reduced deal - and the real killer for me anyway..... How much chocolate do I eat in a week?
I don't want to come across as condescending or to talk down to anyone so don't take it the wrong way, but I've been there in that situation and its a bitch of a place to be in. At the moment I'm still in a job and most thankful to be here which I say most days. Money is tight and jobs tighter but take a little comfort in that fact that you are not on your own. Others around you will either be going through the same experience or have been through it in the past. If you are strong enough and in the right mind you will get through and it will get better. As the old saying goes, Keep Calm and Carry On.
Wingwalker.
Friday 27 January 2012
One for the Blog or one for the Bog?
Love it or hate it modern art is here to stay. Only this morning I saw a picture in the newspaper which shows a group of Olympic village workers sitting on a nearby riverside dressed in their work gear with their high visibility jackets, hard hats and sandwiches wrapped in tin foil, overlooking the water they survey all that is around them. The title of the piece is called Freeze Frame and on first glance it looks like just a bunch of guys sitting by the river and you ask yourself how on earth is this possibly called “art” However, when you look at it in closer detail you then realise it is in actual fact a modern day take on an original masterpiece created by a French post-impressionist painter called Georges Seurat who’s real title is Bathers At Asnieres painted in 1884
Then you have another example that I saw on the TV a few years ago. Whilst idly flicking through the channels one night I came across a documentary style program of an artist in his workshop. It had all the hallmarks of the classic man at work in his studio with splattering’s of paint here and there, brushes in jars half filled with water, a few pieces stacked up against one wall, skylight windows and a cup of cold tea on a table. He was master of his domain, king of the studio, his work was…..well, a piece of art!
It wasn’t the fact that here was a man at work, it was more to do with the piece that he made and I’ll try to explain it here…Imagine if you can a rectangular wooden frame around 3 metres by 2 metres covered in a white canvas which is stretched tight and stapled to the frame. Next, take a pot of red paint and heavily cover the whole of the canvas. Whilst the paint is still wet, take a suitable object to scrape off the excess top layer and leave the remainder to dry. Et voila, there you have it! The whole process took him no more than a couple of hours from start to finish, cost him a minimal amount in materials and was then sold for a whopping £900!!!!!!!!! Someone once said that people would stick tenner’s up their bums if they thought it was fashionable and I think that the same goes for life in the art world too. Give something a fancy name, make up a load of nondescript info and call it “artistic”.
Now for me, the mother of all philistines’ art is something that you can view to understand a story or depiction. John Constables Haywain, Whistlers Mother, Van Gough’s Sunflowers or even probably the most famous of them all, Da Vinci’s The Last Supper. I’ll even stretch and twist my mind a little to viewing Picasso but I find it completely and utterly mind bogglingly dull to appreciate most forms of “Modern Art”. Can anybody explain to me how Dolly the sheep, Tracy Emin’s messed up bed or lights being turned on and off in a blank white room depict art? It is said to be in the mind of the beholder and their interpretation of what they see. Well, I see a messed up bed every morning when I get up, I turn on the light to walk into the kitchen then turn it back off again, and as for the sheep… well we’ll leave that one there…
In my line of work I occasionally get a person of an artistic nature requesting me to help them with their vision, their dream. However, sadly, all they can see is the end concept and that’s it! It then becomes my job to help work out the technicalities and the practical implications of whether their design is achievable or not. In some cases it can be done, in others it can’t and when you tell someone that what they want is not possible, verging on the impossible – let alone silly, they tend to get a little upset and blame you for ruining their work, their concept and sometimes, their whole life. The mind of an artist I’ve noticed is usually narrow when it comes to their work and to ask them for, dare I mention it, “the bigger picture” can equate to that of asking a snowman to hang around on the beach in the mid July sunshine – possible if you have a fridge nearby but usually unlikely to happen.
But what about when modern art goes wrong? In 2011 the Tate Modern gallery in London accepted a piece called “The walking boat” by Andrew Baldwin http://www.walkingboat.com/ this 40ft boat was due to travel up the river Thames in London, stop outside the gallery, turn and then quite literally “walk” up the shore line to the edge of the building. From an engineering perspective that must have been pretty awesome to see had it have worked. Two years manufacturing and whatever money was spent in creating this huge metal beast failed right at the final hurdle. Majestically the boat sailed up the Thames, stopped, turned and… sunk into the mud due to the sheer weight of the entire boat! If ever there was a good time for a Homer Simpson Doh! That was it.
This is a subject that could, like most artists, go on and on. An artist usually only becomes famous when they are dead anyway so what’s the point in that? The art world is in my opinion quite a strange one – secluded from the outside world and reality. They are wrapped up in their own little bubble continually repeating their same old and tired record of how the viewer can engage, visualise, feel and remonstrate with the piece. If you took a mug tree from out of your kitchen and placed it in a gallery you would be told that the vertical stem represents strength, the arms are reaching out in an ever splendid pose, as though longing and searching for their nearest mate. The cups that hang from it will represent glowing colourful containers helping to provide heated springs of life in the form of the organic plant to the ever living soul and the round base will be the platform of stability, never ending, never beginning.
To you and me however, it’s just a mug tree! Find me two artists that agree with one another and I’ll find you a liar.
Wingwalker.
Monday 23 January 2012
Do you think this is right???
When Tony Blair first came into power in March 1997 I opposed my parents arguments that New Labour was just the same as that of the old labour of the 1970's. Strikes, the three day week and Union rule. Give the guy a chance I said, let him prove his worth and see what he can do. You never know what might happen for the good of the country after well over a decade of previous Tory rule. However my comments and points at the time fell on deaf ears and it would appear by now as we all know, they were probably right.
Now today's blog is not about the rights and wrongs of Politics, who did what to whom and when and in which party, but it does concern that of The former Prime Minister, Tony Blair. For sure, it seems that his achillees heel was the War on Turr and that his best mate was a bit of a plank when it came to the world stage but its after he finished being this countries leader that his greed is good policy seems to have escalated. According to this report http://uk.finance.yahoo.com/news/pay-as-little-tax-as-tony-blair.html it would appear that Tony earned around twelve million pounds last year and yet paid only a measily 315K in tax. Nice work if you can get it and I'm sure that some would argue that it is the job of an accountant to make sure you legally only pay as little in tax as you possibly have to. However, when half the country is falling on its knees and the other half are tightening its belts so tight they are practically suffocating themselves through debt or fear of debt then I think that something here is fundamentally wrong. So here is my little message to the man himself.
Tony, you are a public figure. Your fundamental policies of believing in the Labour party for the good of the common man should be considered here. You were once elected by the people of this land to be their leader. They believed in you, they wanted you to work for them. If you ever get the opportunity of reading this blog (which somehow I doubt but I'm ever the optimist) then I ask of you to search your heart and economise like the rest of us. Stop charging tens of thousands of pounds for a twenty minute speech and give some back to the community. You have enough to live on for the rest of your life without having to worry where your next meal is coming from. I've seen poverty in the raw, I've seen what it can do to you and how people are affected both in the UK and abroad. Please just take a step back and think about those people who voted for you and then consider what they think of you now. You are in the wonderful position to turn things around no matter how much people think of you http://www.arrestblair.org/ and show that you care. Start a charity or two and give generously to those who first believed in you.
Sorry for going a little over the top there, I know that this could be the start of a much bigger blog as to who put the taxation laws into place and why yadda yadda yadda. Had it not been the fact I am so tired right now then I would write more - much more but I'll leave it there for now and invite you to comment on what you think and feel about Mr Blair getting so much yet giving so little back.
Wingwalker.
Now today's blog is not about the rights and wrongs of Politics, who did what to whom and when and in which party, but it does concern that of The former Prime Minister, Tony Blair. For sure, it seems that his achillees heel was the War on Turr and that his best mate was a bit of a plank when it came to the world stage but its after he finished being this countries leader that his greed is good policy seems to have escalated. According to this report http://uk.finance.yahoo.com/news/pay-as-little-tax-as-tony-blair.html it would appear that Tony earned around twelve million pounds last year and yet paid only a measily 315K in tax. Nice work if you can get it and I'm sure that some would argue that it is the job of an accountant to make sure you legally only pay as little in tax as you possibly have to. However, when half the country is falling on its knees and the other half are tightening its belts so tight they are practically suffocating themselves through debt or fear of debt then I think that something here is fundamentally wrong. So here is my little message to the man himself.
Tony, you are a public figure. Your fundamental policies of believing in the Labour party for the good of the common man should be considered here. You were once elected by the people of this land to be their leader. They believed in you, they wanted you to work for them. If you ever get the opportunity of reading this blog (which somehow I doubt but I'm ever the optimist) then I ask of you to search your heart and economise like the rest of us. Stop charging tens of thousands of pounds for a twenty minute speech and give some back to the community. You have enough to live on for the rest of your life without having to worry where your next meal is coming from. I've seen poverty in the raw, I've seen what it can do to you and how people are affected both in the UK and abroad. Please just take a step back and think about those people who voted for you and then consider what they think of you now. You are in the wonderful position to turn things around no matter how much people think of you http://www.arrestblair.org/ and show that you care. Start a charity or two and give generously to those who first believed in you.
Sorry for going a little over the top there, I know that this could be the start of a much bigger blog as to who put the taxation laws into place and why yadda yadda yadda. Had it not been the fact I am so tired right now then I would write more - much more but I'll leave it there for now and invite you to comment on what you think and feel about Mr Blair getting so much yet giving so little back.
Wingwalker.
Saturday 21 January 2012
Are you one in a million?
I started this blog at the beginning of the year with the aim of putting my views out into the great big interpipe, help put the world to rights and aim to get a million followers by New Year’s Eve, just to see if it can be done. People power equals power to the ordinary person in the street, this blog can be used as a platform to springboard any positive and peaceful message you wish to portray and help influence the decision makers for the good of mankind.
I’m glad to say that although things started off a little slow, the pace has now picked up and the blogs are being viewed in all parts of the globe. Sign up now to become a follower, tell your friends and get them to tell their friends too. If you have something you want the Wingwalker to write about then let me know via the email at the top of the page.
Let’s see if we can get you to be one in a million.
Wingwalker
Tuesday 17 January 2012
Big Brother is watching you...
CCTV cameras
Can be found in...
Trains
Train stations
Buses
Bus stations
Shopping Centres
Street corners
Shops
Gymnasiums
On the Beach
Hospitals
Parklands
Hotels
Restaurants
Fast food joints
Theatres
Public grounds
Places of heritage
Museums
On the roads
Petrol stations
And many many more.
Big Brother is everywhere. At any one point of the day or night someone, somewhere is watching you. The average amount a person in Great Britain is spied upon is around 300 times in one day which quite frankly is bloody ludicrous! We are told that it is for our safety and protection and that the Closed Circuit Television Camera (CCTV) should be technically referred to as a safety camera.
I’m a well-travelled individual. I’ve driven across several of the earth’s continents with more still to go and yet I don’t think I’ve ever come across as many cameras per square mile in other countries as those compared to ones in the British Isles. Back in the late eighties / early nineties you had a splattering of cameras here and there mainly used to deter thefts in large shopping centres or maybe as an extra pair of eyes down a dark alley but since 911 and the “War on Turr” the volume of cameras put in place under the instruction of Herr Paranoid Blair, has rocketed skywards.
Now don’t get me wrong, they do have a very useful purpose, especially when it comes to being used as evidence in a court of law thus proving beyond all reasonable doubt that Colonel Mustard did strike Miss Scarlet in the Drawing room with the lead pipe. I can also remembering watching once a Cops on camera style program where a CCTV controller once helped prevent a woman from being mugged down a dark lane after seeing a suspicious male lurking around in the bushes. The controller radioed the police who successfully managed to intercept the man and prevent something that could have been much worse.
However, despite the above statements I’m still not convinced that this warrants the sheer volume of camera’s around us. According to the extremely unscientific research method of using Google to do a very quick research, the cost of purchasing a single CCTV camera and installing it in one house is around £280.
For larger establishments such as a company installation or city council and you are running into most probably tens of thousands to do the supply and install alone. Then you have the maintenance, operation and running costs of your guy sitting for eight hours a day in a room with no windows looking at a whole series of television screens using a two way radio. Hardly the best way to keep up with government targets for us all to keep fit! According to the Salisbury Journal newspaper, the running costs alone for the Wiltshire based city as of November 2011 were approximately £400,000!!!
Now compare this cost to that of adding an extra bobby on the beat which according to http://www.police-information.co.uk/policepay.htm is just £23,259 and the figures speak for themselves. By using fewer cameras and more humans you are not only serving the streets of Britain but are building bridges in the community, show a visible presence to deter crime and create more jobs which in turn will help the economy, taxation back to the Government and increase the general overall feel good factor amongst its citizens. For the same £400,000 running costs, Salisbury could have an extra 17 members of the police force out and about on the streets.
Now of course this is all pie in the sky figures and has no real weighted scientific and mathematical proof behind them. I just spent ten minutes on Google and found what was scratching the surface. But even by doing this I still believe that a Policeman on the ground, interacting with the people has got to be way better than a guy in a closed room. The 21st century spy camera – sorry safety camera now even come equipped with speakers so that the controller sitting behind his desk can berate you when you drop some litter. I don’t agree with people leaving a mess but I far less agree with Big brother watching your every single move. If we are meant to be free citizens, then why does it feel as though you are being watched like a hawk?
Wingwalker.
Sunday 15 January 2012
Love thy neighbour.....Now move your car!
I came across the website below after having the opposite neighbour, who I've never met before, knock on my door requesting I move my car so they could move theirs just 6 feet to be in front of their house.
Apparently, everyone "has an understanding" around here and they all look after each other. Now I'm all for love thy neighbour but when you are talking about just six feet, I think thats just ridiculous!!!
Wingwalker
http://www.nfh.org.uk/resources/Articles/parking/index.php
Apparently, everyone "has an understanding" around here and they all look after each other. Now I'm all for love thy neighbour but when you are talking about just six feet, I think thats just ridiculous!!!
Wingwalker
http://www.nfh.org.uk/resources/Articles/parking/index.php
If you have ever been on a First Aid course...
Why is it that all First Aid training centres have a rundown coffee machine, pictures of the Queen in 1982, photo's of old Land Rover ambulances and a painting of Florence Nightingale? The courses are run by plump women in their 50's who either themselves or a member of their family have experienced every accident personally known to man, carry a face mask on their key ring and have a plain Jane assistant that sits in the corner usually called Polly.
Yes it was time for my 3 year check up and I have to say not the best. Sitting in a room full of strangers and making "instant friends" with the man sat next to me who took every opportunity to tap his hand on my arm, talk closely to me whenever he could and even tickle my stomach (I kid you not) as I was lying on the floor with my eyes closed as the "casualty" was not the best of situations. I can only imagine what his face was like as he wrapped his arms around me whilst mimicking the abdominal thrusts - or as it used to be called - the Heimlich Manoeuvre, and then likewise as I had to do it to him in return.
However, all that pales into insignificance as the most dreaded part of the day looms ahead of us. Six rounds each, taking it in turns to get up close and personal with a legless rubber doll. As we all do our bit shaking the torso of rubber Annie and shouting into her completely sealed off ears (after first of all applying antiseptic wipes around her mouth) we are told to imagine that she is unconscious and cannot see or hear. Hardly surprising when you looked at the state of these old mannequins, if Annie was a dog, she would have been put down.
At this stage I had successfully managed to shake off over friendly man to my left, to be replaced with beige corduroy trousers and matching corduroy jacket man to my right. As we marked each other’s competence on bringing lifeless Annie back from the brink of shifting off this mortal coil, he followed everything to the letter and got top marks.
Thankfully it’s all over again for another three years and back to work in the morning. My colleagues can now be rest assured that if they start foaming toothpaste at the mouth, cut their shin with a Stanley knife or slice the top end of a fake rubber finger off then someone is at hand who has done a course and get them back to tip top performance and at their desk to carry on working.
Yes it was time for my 3 year check up and I have to say not the best. Sitting in a room full of strangers and making "instant friends" with the man sat next to me who took every opportunity to tap his hand on my arm, talk closely to me whenever he could and even tickle my stomach (I kid you not) as I was lying on the floor with my eyes closed as the "casualty" was not the best of situations. I can only imagine what his face was like as he wrapped his arms around me whilst mimicking the abdominal thrusts - or as it used to be called - the Heimlich Manoeuvre, and then likewise as I had to do it to him in return.
However, all that pales into insignificance as the most dreaded part of the day looms ahead of us. Six rounds each, taking it in turns to get up close and personal with a legless rubber doll. As we all do our bit shaking the torso of rubber Annie and shouting into her completely sealed off ears (after first of all applying antiseptic wipes around her mouth) we are told to imagine that she is unconscious and cannot see or hear. Hardly surprising when you looked at the state of these old mannequins, if Annie was a dog, she would have been put down.
At this stage I had successfully managed to shake off over friendly man to my left, to be replaced with beige corduroy trousers and matching corduroy jacket man to my right. As we marked each other’s competence on bringing lifeless Annie back from the brink of shifting off this mortal coil, he followed everything to the letter and got top marks.
Thankfully it’s all over again for another three years and back to work in the morning. My colleagues can now be rest assured that if they start foaming toothpaste at the mouth, cut their shin with a Stanley knife or slice the top end of a fake rubber finger off then someone is at hand who has done a course and get them back to tip top performance and at their desk to carry on working.
Wingwalker.
Friday 13 January 2012
Cops 'n' Robbers - the official guide
Well as promised, here is the official answer in relation to my earlier Cops 'n' Robbers blog.
A 999 call should only be made in this scenario if you know or have reasonable suspicion that the crime is currently in progress. Under no circumstance whatsoever must you allow yourself to be put in any danger or danger to anyone else around you. If the crime is actually happenning and you can see the nasty burgulars then call the Police using the emergency number.
However, if you know for certain that the crime happenned earlier on in the day, there is no immediate obvious danger around you and that the burgulars have fled, then it would not be classified as an emergency and dialling 999 would be totally innapropiate. Contact the Police using another method instead.
Wingwalker
A 999 call should only be made in this scenario if you know or have reasonable suspicion that the crime is currently in progress. Under no circumstance whatsoever must you allow yourself to be put in any danger or danger to anyone else around you. If the crime is actually happenning and you can see the nasty burgulars then call the Police using the emergency number.
However, if you know for certain that the crime happenned earlier on in the day, there is no immediate obvious danger around you and that the burgulars have fled, then it would not be classified as an emergency and dialling 999 would be totally innapropiate. Contact the Police using another method instead.
Wingwalker
Thursday 12 January 2012
Teenagers
Teenagers. We’ve all seen them, we all used to be one at some stage and some of us have them now. Gangly haired, greasy faced and moody we watch them shuffle around street corners swigging from hidden cans of cider and throwing chips at one another across the shopping precinct.
Today’s blog has been inspired by one teenager in particular. I don’t know his name; I don’t know where he comes from. All I do know is that I see him every day as he makes his way to the train station, so I’ve decided to call him, “Lurch”.
Lurch is around 6ft in height; he’s thin, has trousers that ride up well above his ankles, a hat that goes over his ears and walks to the bus stop. It’s not the walking element that gets me here but more the fact that he catches a bus to take him the short quarter of a mile journey to the train station whereupon he meets up with some more of the same species.
When Lurch does walk its painful to see, the view from behind as his knees go inward, his legs outward and his feet flop around as though they have no control or are in fact not actually connected to the rest of his body. To see him run is even worse as this requires effort on his behalf. Here, the knees knock together, his legs and arms flail around and his feet are all over the place as his satchel which is over one shoulder sways and bashes against his body.
Of course not all teenagers are like this, according to the newspapers the standard of exam results are improving year on year often exceeding previous years. It’s an age old argument, are they getting cleverer or are the exams getting easier? If you ask the kids they will tell you that the exams are hard, if you ask the adults, they will tell you they are easy. One things for certain, a teenagers favourite past time is to eat and sleep. When they are not doing that they are hanging around with their mates and when they are not doing either of those things they can sometimes be seen working for a living stacking shelves or helping out on Saturdays at car tyre workshops.
Life for a teenager can be quite a trauma. With raging hormones, the discovery of themselves as an individual as well as that of the opposite sex can often lead to conflict and the he said she said brigade will still carry on well beyond the primary school playground into early adulthood. Now however, instead of stomping their feet for a few minutes as a child and going into a sulk, they broadcast how they feel to the entire world with the power of social media using Facebook, Twitter or even on a blog like this one. Within seconds all their many hundreds of “friends” will know who’s broken up with whom, if they are available for another serious relationship or if she really did snog Steve behind the chippy last night.
Teenage sex however is an entirely new ball game. I was 17 when I had my first kiss, a girl called Nicola who I met whilst doing my teenage Saturday job. I was in love, she was the one, we were going to have a massive family and live happily ever after. However, reality bites and after a couple of weeks she moved on to someone else breaking my heart. Now, teenagers are getting jiggy with each other just ten minutes after they meet. Wham, bham thank you ma'am and they are off. Over the first hurdle, round the corner and onto third base before you can say babies, which of course can be the inevitable result if they are not careful.
Where has their childhood gone?
They say that school days are the best days of your life but I would argue against that. For me, growing up was one long constant struggle amongst my fellow gladiators. Trying to get a girl was nigh on impossible and on the few rare occasions when one would actually stop to talk to me more than to ask for the time, my mouth would dry and I would end up a gibbering wreck through lack of experience. For girls however it always seemed a lot easier, they hang around in bunches of three or more. Whenever a brave alpha male tried to enter the arena and ask one out to the school disco they would inevitable get shot down in flames only to be equally berated from said girl’s counterparts.
A lot of teenagers nowadays are viewed by the adult population as a threat, and to an extent they have partly brought that on themselves. The hooded tops may be the height of fashion but the top and scarf combo even on a warm day can give the impression that they are out to cause trouble. Whilst this aspect may partly be true adding weight to the argument, it can also work against them as those wearing the gear to fit in with the rest can unwittingly be tarring themselves with the same brush. If they are wearing the clothing as a fashion statement then what is it they trying to say? I’m a teenager, hear me roar?
I’m a child of the 70’s and 80’s, my parents raised me on BBC Radio 2 with Kenny Everett, Simon Bates and the big hairy monster from 200 miles up the M1. The late Jimmy Saville was sitting on his big blue chair handing out “Jim Fixed it for Me” medals and foods such as the Avocado and Prawn Cocktail were classified as exotic. Music of the time included Bucks Fizz, Adam Ant and everyone walked around like Egyptians at parties. Now, someone like Lurch will listen to a guy in a large puffa jacket swallowing a microphone reeling off a whole line of syllables in rapid succession whilst being accompanied by scantily clad dancers who parade their booty. Friends of Lurch will eagerly absorb all the gossip they can fill their heads with and think that Big Brother is highly intellectual. Mind you, compare that to watching something like The Magic Roundabout, there’s probably not a lot in it between the two.
Personally my opinion of teenagers is that deep down they can be highly misunderstood individuals. It doesn’t help however when all they do is grunt at you in their own language using as little effort as possible, whilst crying wolf in another breath saying you don’t understand and are not listening. I’ve found that the best way to communicate with a teenager is to stop whatever it is you are doing and look at them directly yet calmly in the face. Don’t frown, don’t roll your eyes at them and don’t ever try and “get down wiv da kidz” as this will just antagonize them into throwing a complete and pointless unnecessary strop. Instead, treat them like an adult and in the same way you would wish to be treated yourself. If they are acting like a prat, tell them. If you are proud of them then let them know. Emphasise that they are free to make their own mistakes but should learn from the process. If you are a parent then let them know that you are there for them when they need you but you will not always be able to provide as much financial support as the banks support their executives. Hopefully the message should get across and they will realise that you are not always out to get them.
Thankfully, it is a phase that most of them tend to grow out of after a few years and “normality” takes over once more. As for Lurch, no doubt I’ll probably see him again tomorrow as he slouches his inward knobbly knees towards the bus stop for the usual two minute journey. He’ll never know that he’s had a blog dedicated to him. Otherwise if he did then it would probably be tweeted to all of his friends via mobile phone before turning on his iPod and listen to yet more rapid fire syllables which they call music.
Wingwalker.
Monday 9 January 2012
How much!!!!!!!!!
Every year the bills go up. It's only the start of the year and already I've just had to fork out just over two hundred pounds on car tax. I also catch the train into work and back which has risen by stupid percent and the cost of food, fuel, and living in general is rocketing skywards!
This morning as I arrived at the station after having done my morning commute on not one, but two crowded and normally delayed trains, a message came over the tannoy that part of the station had been closed off due to over crowding. This meant that my short walk through the station of less than 100 metres turned into the quick walk / semi run of nearly five times that amount round the block just to get to the point of where I would normally be in the first place. Several years ago, I used to work for a company 10 miles from my home. No worries, 20 minutes in the car, job done! Now I live in a different part of the country and the office is only eight miles from home, yet my journey to work now involves a 20 minute brisk walk to the station, 10 minutes on the platform, a first train journey for 15 minutes, another wait on the platform for around 5 minutes (if its on time) then a second train for another 15 minutes followed by a further 15 minutes walk to work from the station. Total travelling time - 80 minutes - or in other words, 1 hour 20 twice a day five days a week.
And yet, millions of people all over the country do this similar kind of journey every day dealing with delays and problems yet continue to carry on payhing the transport companies humongous amounts of our hard earned cash for the privilage.
Why do we all put up with it? Why are we forced to pay these ridiculous hikes in prices for the same if not sometimes worse level of service you had before. The atonal bland voice of the robot coming through the station loudspeaker saying that the train company you are travelling with apologises for the delay. Its repetition stuck like an old fashioned record, continually going around and around in an ever decreasing loop. Therefore my question is this. Who is the actual person from the transport company, sorry? We hear from the automated robot that ***Insert name of travel company here*** apologises for the delay but the fat cat hiding behind his or her desk is probably looking down on the rest of us poor suckers saying thanks for your cash, it will go rather well on the company outing this year. Are you really sorry or are you just saying so to pacify us all?
Believe it or not, if I use my car it would actually be worse. Sure, I won't be forced into sniffing my fellow commuters arm pit, or sit opposite the drunk who's very loud shouting of constant swear words into his phone with both eyes closed (as happened tonight) will not be there. But due to the sheer volume of traffic there is on the roads I'll be lucky if I get out of second gear! The engine will overheat and I'll end up stranded on the side of the road with a billowing gush of steam rising up out of the radiator. No doubt one day things will change for the better and I have to remain positive and focussed that my daily journey will one day be stress free. I would just like it however if the fat cats in the companies who we all have to pay actually did the same level of travelling as we do. Join the ranks of the people and see for yourself where your service is going. I wonder then if they did, how much of an "improvement" we will all actually see.
Wingwalker.
This morning as I arrived at the station after having done my morning commute on not one, but two crowded and normally delayed trains, a message came over the tannoy that part of the station had been closed off due to over crowding. This meant that my short walk through the station of less than 100 metres turned into the quick walk / semi run of nearly five times that amount round the block just to get to the point of where I would normally be in the first place. Several years ago, I used to work for a company 10 miles from my home. No worries, 20 minutes in the car, job done! Now I live in a different part of the country and the office is only eight miles from home, yet my journey to work now involves a 20 minute brisk walk to the station, 10 minutes on the platform, a first train journey for 15 minutes, another wait on the platform for around 5 minutes (if its on time) then a second train for another 15 minutes followed by a further 15 minutes walk to work from the station. Total travelling time - 80 minutes - or in other words, 1 hour 20 twice a day five days a week.
And yet, millions of people all over the country do this similar kind of journey every day dealing with delays and problems yet continue to carry on payhing the transport companies humongous amounts of our hard earned cash for the privilage.
Why do we all put up with it? Why are we forced to pay these ridiculous hikes in prices for the same if not sometimes worse level of service you had before. The atonal bland voice of the robot coming through the station loudspeaker saying that the train company you are travelling with apologises for the delay. Its repetition stuck like an old fashioned record, continually going around and around in an ever decreasing loop. Therefore my question is this. Who is the actual person from the transport company, sorry? We hear from the automated robot that ***Insert name of travel company here*** apologises for the delay but the fat cat hiding behind his or her desk is probably looking down on the rest of us poor suckers saying thanks for your cash, it will go rather well on the company outing this year. Are you really sorry or are you just saying so to pacify us all?
Believe it or not, if I use my car it would actually be worse. Sure, I won't be forced into sniffing my fellow commuters arm pit, or sit opposite the drunk who's very loud shouting of constant swear words into his phone with both eyes closed (as happened tonight) will not be there. But due to the sheer volume of traffic there is on the roads I'll be lucky if I get out of second gear! The engine will overheat and I'll end up stranded on the side of the road with a billowing gush of steam rising up out of the radiator. No doubt one day things will change for the better and I have to remain positive and focussed that my daily journey will one day be stress free. I would just like it however if the fat cats in the companies who we all have to pay actually did the same level of travelling as we do. Join the ranks of the people and see for yourself where your service is going. I wonder then if they did, how much of an "improvement" we will all actually see.
Wingwalker.
Saturday 7 January 2012
Cops 'n' Robbers
Imagine the scene,
You have been out all day, at work, in the car, shopping or taking the kids to the park. The sun is shining, the air is free and all is right with the world. You are looking forward to the evening ahead, a nice meal, good bottle of wine and your feet up in front of the TV.
As you approach your home you get the uneasy feeling that all is not well, you begin to feel uncomfortable and your face changes from being happy and relaxed, to one of concern. You are not sure why you are starting to feel this way but you know it doesen't feel good. As you approach the front door your fears are confirmed when you find you don't need to put your key in the lock as the door has been forced open. Carefully you push it to one side and are faced with the reality of being burgled. Your stomach turns into a tight knot as you quickly scan around the mass of devastation laid bare in front of you. Your personal possessions and property have been ransacked by some other thoughtless mindless person or persons unknown. They have been in your house, they have gone through your things, they have invaded your space and privacy. You feel sick.
What do you do?
A myriad of things start to whirl through your mind. Who? What? When? Why? How? Will my insurance cover this? Over and over again as panic starts to set in. The mess. The intrusion. You feel dirty that someone else has rifled through and removed your hard earned possessions for their own personal financial gain, probably to be put up on a well known internet auction website. At some point you then think that it would be a good idea to ring the Police.
But here lies the question, what number do you call? You have been burgled, the theives could be just round the corner laughing at your expense. Do you dial 999 to call the Police out in an emergency, or do you try and find the phone book under the pile of rubble to look up the number of your local station? At this point I want to ask each and every one of you what would you do? Before writing this blog I decided to do a little bit of research and carried out an extreemly unscientific straw poll.
I asked around a few family and friends as to what they would do and the results were quite surprising. Around 50% of those asked would dial 999 straight away as they viewed the situation as an emergency whereas the other 50% said otherwise. Comments ranged from a woman on her own arriving at the door with bags of shopping through to a few teenagers entering the premises together and the response was varied. One person told me how the Police were alledgedly so busy they requested the house owner take with them a piece of damaged property to the station so that forensic evidence could be undertaken. Whilst another said that the Police could not be helpful enough.
I wondered if this had any influence as to what part of the UK you are in? Bearing this in mind I then asked a little further afield and again the answers were quite varied. In London the largest response was to call for the emergency service straight away, whereas in Dorset, those questioned said otherwise. The trail of thought and general consensous seemed to be if you are brought up in an area surrounded by sirens, hustle, bustle and general organised chaos then you are more likely to think of classing everything as an emergency. However, if you are brought up in the country where life is done at a more slower pace - even if you live in the average sized town, then people think more methodically and work from a different angle. Whilst this is not a dig at anyone, townie or country bumpkin alike, it did seem to paint an interesting picture in its unscientific way.
Every year the emergency services release on the news their most ridiculous phone calls that they receive in the light of showing the general public what is unnacceptable and how such stories are a waste of valuable Police time. Stories of how a snowman were reported as having been stolen whilst sitting out in the sun, too many onions were once in a man's takeaway and a woman once called outraged that the bunny wunny rabbit that she had bought did not have floppy ears as promised in the newspaper advert. All of which are genuine stories but none of which are real emergencies - let alone worth making a phone call in the first place.
So what would you do if faced with this terrible situation?
We'll I'll give you the official guidelines on another blog but for now I'll open up the debate for you to answer. I'm interested to hear your opinions, thoughts and comments on both what you would do in the situation as described above but also would like to know what area of the country you come from to see if my theory holds water.
Wingwalker.
You have been out all day, at work, in the car, shopping or taking the kids to the park. The sun is shining, the air is free and all is right with the world. You are looking forward to the evening ahead, a nice meal, good bottle of wine and your feet up in front of the TV.
As you approach your home you get the uneasy feeling that all is not well, you begin to feel uncomfortable and your face changes from being happy and relaxed, to one of concern. You are not sure why you are starting to feel this way but you know it doesen't feel good. As you approach the front door your fears are confirmed when you find you don't need to put your key in the lock as the door has been forced open. Carefully you push it to one side and are faced with the reality of being burgled. Your stomach turns into a tight knot as you quickly scan around the mass of devastation laid bare in front of you. Your personal possessions and property have been ransacked by some other thoughtless mindless person or persons unknown. They have been in your house, they have gone through your things, they have invaded your space and privacy. You feel sick.
What do you do?
A myriad of things start to whirl through your mind. Who? What? When? Why? How? Will my insurance cover this? Over and over again as panic starts to set in. The mess. The intrusion. You feel dirty that someone else has rifled through and removed your hard earned possessions for their own personal financial gain, probably to be put up on a well known internet auction website. At some point you then think that it would be a good idea to ring the Police.
But here lies the question, what number do you call? You have been burgled, the theives could be just round the corner laughing at your expense. Do you dial 999 to call the Police out in an emergency, or do you try and find the phone book under the pile of rubble to look up the number of your local station? At this point I want to ask each and every one of you what would you do? Before writing this blog I decided to do a little bit of research and carried out an extreemly unscientific straw poll.
I asked around a few family and friends as to what they would do and the results were quite surprising. Around 50% of those asked would dial 999 straight away as they viewed the situation as an emergency whereas the other 50% said otherwise. Comments ranged from a woman on her own arriving at the door with bags of shopping through to a few teenagers entering the premises together and the response was varied. One person told me how the Police were alledgedly so busy they requested the house owner take with them a piece of damaged property to the station so that forensic evidence could be undertaken. Whilst another said that the Police could not be helpful enough.
I wondered if this had any influence as to what part of the UK you are in? Bearing this in mind I then asked a little further afield and again the answers were quite varied. In London the largest response was to call for the emergency service straight away, whereas in Dorset, those questioned said otherwise. The trail of thought and general consensous seemed to be if you are brought up in an area surrounded by sirens, hustle, bustle and general organised chaos then you are more likely to think of classing everything as an emergency. However, if you are brought up in the country where life is done at a more slower pace - even if you live in the average sized town, then people think more methodically and work from a different angle. Whilst this is not a dig at anyone, townie or country bumpkin alike, it did seem to paint an interesting picture in its unscientific way.
Every year the emergency services release on the news their most ridiculous phone calls that they receive in the light of showing the general public what is unnacceptable and how such stories are a waste of valuable Police time. Stories of how a snowman were reported as having been stolen whilst sitting out in the sun, too many onions were once in a man's takeaway and a woman once called outraged that the bunny wunny rabbit that she had bought did not have floppy ears as promised in the newspaper advert. All of which are genuine stories but none of which are real emergencies - let alone worth making a phone call in the first place.
So what would you do if faced with this terrible situation?
We'll I'll give you the official guidelines on another blog but for now I'll open up the debate for you to answer. I'm interested to hear your opinions, thoughts and comments on both what you would do in the situation as described above but also would like to know what area of the country you come from to see if my theory holds water.
Wingwalker.
Tuesday 3 January 2012
Answers on a postcard please
The English language in varying regions can be a strange old thing. If you want to advertise something then why do you in one part of the country pronounce it as an "advertissment" and in a different part an "advertizement"? If snow comes down from the sky some will say it "pitches" as it lands on the ground whereas others will say it "settles" and why does "razed to the ground" always sound as though the house on fire is actually ascending upwards, thus breaking its foundations and defying the laws of gravity?
Ironically, no matter where you are "sex" is one of the smallest words but can cause the biggest issues and the obscure sounding "etymology" actually relates to the origin and historical development of a linguistic form as shown by determining its basic elements, tracing its transmission from one language to another. In short, its the origin of words and yes - I did get that one from the dictionary.
If you are in the north you say bath, instead of barth, path instead of parth and laugh instead of laurgh, yet whilst this may be a deviation of regional accents, it very neatly leads me to todays' topic and that is what do you say and when do you say it when talking about meals?
There is, and always will be with a topic like this, a social divide. Those in the north say breakfast, as do those in the south as it is universally agreed that as you start your day you are breaking the overnight fast (or farst depending on your own pronunciation) ready for the day ahead. In Victorian times you would have had elevenses which oddly enough happens at 11 o'clock but as we are all living in the fast paced world of the 21st Century, no one has time for elevenses anymore and some may say is fast disappearing.
It is from this point that the confusion starts to set in. The midday meal for approximately half the country will be called lunch followed by dinner in the evening and possibly supper just before bed. There is even the chance that there will be a tea consisting of a drink and sandwiches or cake around 4pm. However these names are turned on their head with the other half of the country saying their midday meal is called dinner, evening meal is called tea and supper before bed with no sign of what a snack mid afternoon might be called at all.
Now there's nothing new in what's written above except to say that depending on which part of the country you are in denotes what it is exactly you ask for. On many occasions I've had a quizzical look from someone when I've said around 11.30am, let's go out for dinner, only to be asked what time that evening we should meet up? Technically speaking if you get deep down to the nitty gritty there may be argument that there is a right way and a wrong way of saying what you mean but to ask the question who is right and who is wrong could spark an interesting debate. Those in the north will say one format whilst those in the south may say another so then I have to ask the question, what will those in the Midlands think? Or does no-one really care?
The politicians always say that they want a classless society but somehow I just think that will never happen, for as long as you have little differences like "Does gravy and chips belong together?" Then the debate will remain. Answers on a postcard please...
Wingwalker.
If you have an interesting topic you want the Wingwalker to write about then feel free to get in touch via the email address above.
Ironically, no matter where you are "sex" is one of the smallest words but can cause the biggest issues and the obscure sounding "etymology" actually relates to the origin and historical development of a linguistic form as shown by determining its basic elements, tracing its transmission from one language to another. In short, its the origin of words and yes - I did get that one from the dictionary.
If you are in the north you say bath, instead of barth, path instead of parth and laugh instead of laurgh, yet whilst this may be a deviation of regional accents, it very neatly leads me to todays' topic and that is what do you say and when do you say it when talking about meals?
There is, and always will be with a topic like this, a social divide. Those in the north say breakfast, as do those in the south as it is universally agreed that as you start your day you are breaking the overnight fast (or farst depending on your own pronunciation) ready for the day ahead. In Victorian times you would have had elevenses which oddly enough happens at 11 o'clock but as we are all living in the fast paced world of the 21st Century, no one has time for elevenses anymore and some may say is fast disappearing.
It is from this point that the confusion starts to set in. The midday meal for approximately half the country will be called lunch followed by dinner in the evening and possibly supper just before bed. There is even the chance that there will be a tea consisting of a drink and sandwiches or cake around 4pm. However these names are turned on their head with the other half of the country saying their midday meal is called dinner, evening meal is called tea and supper before bed with no sign of what a snack mid afternoon might be called at all.
Now there's nothing new in what's written above except to say that depending on which part of the country you are in denotes what it is exactly you ask for. On many occasions I've had a quizzical look from someone when I've said around 11.30am, let's go out for dinner, only to be asked what time that evening we should meet up? Technically speaking if you get deep down to the nitty gritty there may be argument that there is a right way and a wrong way of saying what you mean but to ask the question who is right and who is wrong could spark an interesting debate. Those in the north will say one format whilst those in the south may say another so then I have to ask the question, what will those in the Midlands think? Or does no-one really care?
The politicians always say that they want a classless society but somehow I just think that will never happen, for as long as you have little differences like "Does gravy and chips belong together?" Then the debate will remain. Answers on a postcard please...
Wingwalker.
If you have an interesting topic you want the Wingwalker to write about then feel free to get in touch via the email address above.
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