Scuba-diving cat

Cashpoint cripples

The cashpoint at most supermarkets is usually less than 20 yards away from normal parking bays, and yet some people are so lazy and bone-idle that they can't be bothered to park up in a bay and walk for the extra five seconds to get to the machine. Instead, they park up on double-yellow lines, or in bays marked for use by disabled people and seem to be oblivious to the havoc they can cause.

Get off your fat arses and walk the extra few yards, and leave the disabled bays for people who really need them.

incontinence

Smurf's GT had a bit of an accident in the night and pissed petrol all over the garage floor; it would appear that the breather in the fuel cap was blocked. It stinks. Anyway, he's swept out as much as he can and put the offending machine in the garden to think about what it's done.

more BB woes

Oh what a fucking surprise! My broadband connection has been down again, all evening apparently. Not that I'd know if I hadn't been told, seeing as I've just worked 13 hours without a break.

I wonder what their excuse is this time? Oh, sorry, Orange don't give excuses, do they? Just platitudes and just lies, then tell you they're fixing it.

Now that it's back on, it's slower than dialup.

addendum

Orange's 'contact us' page is shite too, it's not compatible with Firefox. Magnifying glass, anyone?

The future's not so bright...

I am utterly fed up with my current broadband provider. Yes, Orange, that's you. Ever since Orange took over from Wanadoo, the service has been terrible. There have been several outages, lasting hours and even days at a time with no explanation or so much as a 'by your leave'. When you ring the service status line, they tell you everything is hunky dory, so you ring the helpline, get kept on hold for over half an hour and then speak to some pre-programmed robot who reads from a script which says:

"I'm sorry, we are aware that some customers are experiencing problems, but we are working hard to fix it."

If I hear that line one more time, I shall scream. I asked the last one "when will it be fixed" and was told "soon, probably". It was out for two days.

I'm fed up of them saying 'sorry' too. I don't give a flying fk how sorry they are, I want it fixed and I want it to stop collapsing on me every time I have a bloody deadline to meet.

I don't just use the Internet for leisure purposes, I need it for my work too, and it really is unacceptable. I'm paying £28 a month for a shite service, which is flaky at the best of times. I have a little network of friends now, all using Orange, and we text each other each time we can't connect, to make sure it is Orange's fault and not ours. One friend has been unable to gain access for two weeks and Orange refuse to talk to her because the account is in her boyfriend's name, even though he has given them authority to deal with her and she pays the damn bill.

Orange seriously needs to get its act together.

In the meantime, I am investigating other ISPs. So if anyone has any recommendations, please do let me know. I don't want e-mail addresses, I don't want a free modem (I've got three already, thanks), I don't want free webspace or flashy add-ons, anti-spam or anti-virus software.

All I want to do it connect to the Internet on a reliable service with no download limits. Is that too much to ask for?

Ban on skinny models

Well done, the organisers of Madrid's Fashion Week, for banning overly-skinny models from appearing on the catwalk.

It's about time that the fashion world realised that in the real world, most women don't look like anorexic stick-insects.

As for the comment that the ban is discriminating against the model and the freedom of the designer - get a life. If the model can't get a job as a clothes horse, she could get one as a xylophone instead, and if a designer can't design something for someone with a bit of meat, they should realise that they are crap and get a different job too.

red means STOP

Another Constable has declared war on cyclists who think that traffic lights don't apply to them. Exellent! Perhaps all the other coppers could do the same. I, for one, am very pissed off with cyclists who just barrel on through red lights and then glare at any driver who happens to be trying to cross their path.

Well done, AC, more power to your elbow!

oh poo!

We were having a lovely time at the Autumn M'NABD'ness rally at Cornbury Park. The sun was shining, the beer was flowing and the company was fantastic. We had to leave on Saturday afternoon to get home for Spike's mum's 60th birthday party, so we packed up, got on the bike and managed just over a mile before disaster struck. My throttle cable had snapped.

So there we were, at the side of the road, scratching our heads, when the lovely Bonehead happened to pass by, saw us and came back to ask if he could help. He then zoomed off to the site for backup. Ten minutes later, my knights in shining armour (well, in a white van anyway), Bob and Chris arrived, loaded the bike into the back of the van and took us back to the site.

It was clear that the cable wasn't broken at the handlebar end, so we took off the tank to get a better look at the other end, but that was intact too. It was then that Smurf came along, had a poke here and a pull there, and pulled out about a foot of cable from the sleeve. It hadn't just snapped, it was completely knackered. It was rusted and falling apart in several places. Not bad for only 2 years old :o( Anyway, Eddie and Smurf had a good look and decided that the only way to get a new cable on would be to drop the carbs. Not a job I really wanted to carry out with few tools and in the middle of a field so, for the first time in my life, I rang for the nice man in the big truck with the flashing lights. He really was a nice man too. Kevin the recovery bloke explained to me how he was going to put the bike on the back of the trailer whilst I watched anxiously as he winched my pride and joy up the ramp, and we were soon on our way. When we got back to Spike's we realised that there was no way that the truck would get up his street, so he dropped off the bike at the end of the road, and I fired it up on choke and used the choke as a throttle to get it up the back street to the garage, when it now sits, all lonely and forlorn.

I've tried ringing a few places today, but there are no Kawasaki dealers in Coventry, apparently, and not many other places are open on a Sunday. I may have to put an emergency cable kit on it to get me home and then go to a dealer nearer home. It may even come to using a bit of string yet. Oh what fun I have. I think it might be a good idea to replace the return cable at the same time, given the state that this one was in. It would save having to drop the carbs twice.

Big thanks to everyone who tried to help, though. Bonehead, you are, as always, a star :o)

knackered

OK, I know I've not blogged for ages. It's cos I'm too bloody busy and too knackered, so sorry but I'll get round to posting something constructive soon.

experiments in the kitchen

I decided to try summat new tonight, and made kung-po pork with noodles. It was bloody lovely, but about ten minutes later, my tongue was on fire, so I put it out with some Shahi Kulfi.

I think I'll put a bog roll in the freezer, just in case.

Quotation of the day

"Only when the last tree has died, and the last river has been poisoned, and the last fish has been caught, will we realise that we cannot eat money."

Naive radio presenters

These poor folks didn't have a clue what was going on.

The worst mother in the world?

31 year-old Emma Kelly has been sent to jail for getting her nine year-old son hooked on heroin and crack cocaine.

What sort of a sick, twisted person could do that to their own child? In my opinion she isn't fit to be a mother and when she does eventually get out of prison, she should never, ever be allowed to work with or have unsupervised access to children. I wonder what the other women will think of her, in the jail she ends up in?

Get well soon, Chi

Poor Chi, Bolton Mountain Rescue Team's rescue dog, has had a bit of a mishap with a strimmer and has a very poorly leg.

Get well soon, Chi, and they'll have you chasing cans again soon :o)

Oh yeah, and whilst you're looking at their website, remember that the Mountain Rescue Team is funded entirely from donations, so you might want to bung a few quid their way to support the excellent work that they do, supporting the other emergency services who get proper Government funding.

Blood, Sweat and Tea

Come on folks, only a few hours left before this rare tome, signed by the author, goes under the hammer.

It's all in the name of charity, folks, and it'll be a damn good read too!

Bushmoot

I wrote this ages ago, intending to give the full story of the Bushmoot, but I never had time to finish it, so I thought 'stuff it', and I'll just post what I've got so far. I might even finish it one day.

On Thursday 27 July, Mad Dave, Spike and I rode to South Wales in order to attend the Bushmoot - a five-day bushcraft event. Somewhere near Swindon, Spike's ratty old Honda decided to eject its clutch cable and adjuster, forcing him to crash the gearbox until we could get out of the roadworks and onto a side road. Although he was carrying an emergency cable kit, it took over an hour to get it fixed because the bike was just too damn hot to touch. I rang the campsite to warn them that we were going to be arriving somewhat later than we expected.



When we eventually got to the Acorn campsite, at Llantwit Major, the site owners couldn't have been more helpful. It was nearly 9pm, but they'd reserved us a really nice pitch, and then told us that although the pubs would have stopped serving food, the local Chinese were more than happy to deliver to the site. So we ordered a six-course banquet, and jolly nice it was too. That night, Dave slept like the dead, in the porch of the tent. Spike couldn't sleep and kept me awake too, so in the end he got up to make a brew. Despite walking over Dave three or four times, he didn't stir at all. Sometimes I wish I could sleep like that.

The following day, we managed to get about five miles when Dave came hareing up behind me, indicating that I should pull over. Spike's bike had broken again. This time, however, it wasn't the clutch cable - it was the engine, and it was really broken. It appeared to have thrown a valve. We decided that Dave and I would continue to the Bushmoot site at Merthyr Mawr, offload the gear and go back for Spike's stuff. When I was on the way back to Spike, I had a flash of inspiration. Para cord! What self-respecting bushcrafter would be without it? We braided a 50 metre length of cord down to about 15 metres, and then I towed Spike the remaining 2 miles to the site. No problemo :o) Sadly, when we got to the site, I stalled the Kwak whilst trying to get up the hill and after two more failed attempts, I decided I didn't want to burn out my clutch and told Spike he'd have to push the bike. A nice chap in a Volvo (yes, a Volvo!) offered to tow him, but it went wrong and Spike dropped the bike, so the lovely Scruff helped him to push it to where Dave had started to set up our camp. Spike and Dave were in hammocks, I had my nice big tent and airbed. OK, so I'm a softie, but I didn't have the dosh to buy a hammock and made do with what I already had. Nice, comfy airbed...


We were joined at our camp by two nice young chaps called Rob and Alex, who brought one small tent and a hammock, and they swapped over each night. Soon after, Nick arrived on his trusty BMW and slung up his hammock about 20 yards away and then came over for a chat. There wasn't any designated camping area, everyone just found a nice tree or a bit of flat ground and set up there.

The first evening was spent meeting up with our fellow Bushmooters and generally socialising. We met Mors Kochanski, who had come all the way from Canada, just for us! He started an impromptu workshop on shelter-building and kept us entertained for quite some time. He really is a fascinating, knowledgable and friendly bloke, and I felt quite priviledged to meet him.



At some point, we were summoned to the hut by the sounding of a large metal triangle, and it was only then that I realised that there was a hell of a lot of us in attendance. We were told that the triangle would be sounded each morning, to call us to the hut to listen to the notices and find out what workshops would be running each day.

I slept like a log on Friday night but I still felt tired on Saturday morning, and was rather dismayed, when the triangle sounded, to find it was already 10am. We hauled ourselves over to the hut and had a look at what was on offer. We decided to have a go at the 'fire by friction' workshop in the morning, and the knife-making demonstration in the afternoon.

The fire-by-friction workshop was really interesting. We learned about various fire-lighting techniques, including using fire-steels, flint and (gasp) matches! Then we moved on to the best types of punk and kindling to get an ember going, and then finally moved on to constructing and using bow-drills. Whilst I didn't have any trouble in making my bow-drill, I did have trouble in using it, because I found kneeling down just too painful for my knackered knees. I think I'll stick to my fire-steel.



On Saturday afternoon, we went off to the knife-making workshop. Although Stuart was very informative, I never realised just how long it takes to make a knife by hand and after three hours, the audience was wilting somewhat. Stuart realised that it was dragging on and called it to a halt, saying that he'd finish it off the following day, for those who were interested. I felt a bit guilty because I kept yawning. It wasn't because of the subject matter, it was because Thursday's sleepless night was catching up with me and I just wanted to crawl into my sleeping bag and fall into a coma.



Saturday evening, there was a new arrival to our little camp, in the form of Cap'n Badger. He took one look at us and the bikes and decided that was the place for him. It was soon after that, that our area became known as 'the naughty corner'. I can't think for a minute why...



On Sunday morning, Dave went off flint-knapping whilst Spike and I opted for the trapping workshop, and I nearly melted whilst watching the demonstration. I felt really ill because of the heat and I sought refuge under a tree for a while, but I still managed to make my trap support and trigger :) I was quite chuffed with the end result, but we weren't allowed to leave them set up, so no bunny for tea that night.





On Sunday afternoon, whilst Dave was still knapping away, Spike and I went to the knife-sharpening workshop. I suppose I had to go, really, since it was me who asked for it... I certainly learned a lot from the workshop, and I know I can now sharpen my knife well - cos I promptly cut myself on it, but at least it was a nice clean cut and healed very quickly.

Sunday evening was spent around the fire, singing and talking bollocks - just what I'm good at!
On Monday morning, we all mucked in to help construct the hangi. Dave helped to collect rocks, whilst Spike and I chopped logs. I'd never used an axe before and got a bit pissed off with a few unhelpful folk (Spike) who kept telling me I was doing it wrong. Then a couple of nice cha.ps came over and showed me how to do it properly, rather than just criticising, and I was soon chopping away merrily. I think Spike had the right idea by getting out of my way, cos I was on a mission.

Once the hangi was lit, Dave, Spike Cap'n Badger and I decided to go for a walk to the beach. Walking over the sand dunes was really hard work and it was only a matter of minutes before my calf muscles were screaming for mercy. Once we made it to the river, the going was much flatter and easier. Spike and Badger stopped to skim pebbles for a while, and insisted on having their photo taken with a decapitated Father Christmas, and then we set off again towards the beach. There was a shocking amount of litter which had washed up with the flotsam and jetsam, including sharps and other nasty objects, and it did dampen our spirits a little. However, they were soon lifted when we got to the beach, and I got my little kite out. It was the first time I'd flown it, so I was rather annoyed that the line appeared to have been cut into one foot lengths, but Spike donated a hand-fishing line and my little kite was soon fluttering away above my head. Not to be outdone, Badger found a broken kite abandoned on the sand, repaired it and then got it flying nicely.



The walk back to the forest was worse than the walk out there. Spike kept collecting rabbit skulls, and I developed huge blisters on each heel, which are not fully healed now, over a month later, and I when I got back to my tent, all I wanted to do was lie down and take the weight off my poor feet. However, I thought it would be a good idea to make some food, as we were getting very hungry by then, and the hangi was showing no signs of being ready. When the call to the hangi was eventually heard, people came scrurrying out of the forest like ants. Despite my valiant efforts, I completely failed to get anything at all; it was all gone in seconds. I was glad I'd decided to cook beforehand.



The remainder of Monday night was spent sword-fighting wih Badgers rather impressive weapons, chatting, singing, talking more bollocks, finishing off whatever alcohol we had left and then we went to bed and passed out.



Tuesday morning was somewhat strange. I really didn't want to leave the forest and I'd have quite happily stayed a few more days. We said our goodbyes to all the new friends we'd made, and I was particularly touched that Alex had carved me a spoon, as a thankyou for feeding him and Rob with my endless supply of bacon butties (cooked on our ace campfire) and biscuits. The spoon is now hanging on my wall to remind me of the fantastic time we had there.



We took our time striking camp, and Dave set off home, whilst Spike telephoned for the big truck with the orange flashing lights. The big truck arrived soon after he'd called, and the driver kindly offered to take my heavy luggage, so I set off home. Unfortunately, I made two major cockups on the way back. First of all, not having a map, I took just about the longest route possible to get back to the M5, and then I missed my turning off the M5 and ended up going 40 more miles out of my way, which meant that Spike actually got home 10 minutes before I did. Shame that I had his housekeys, like. Good job it wasn't raining, cos he was sat outside waiting for me.

We got in the house, ate, showered and then fell asleep. Dunno about him, but I slept like a bloody log.

A huge thank-you to Tony and all the others from Bushcraft UK who worked really hard to make sure that everything went right. We had a bloody fine time and can't wait for the next one.

Broke it!

My office PC decided that I was working it too hard, and this morning, without so much as a 'by your leave', it went pop, leaving just a blank screen and a funny smell.

Anyway, I rang our IT helpdesk in London and explained that the power supply unit had given up the ghost, and the helpful chappie there said he would arrange for a new machine to be brought to me. Whilst he was still on the phone to me, giving me a call reference, my mobile rang. It was the engineer asking what time my office was open in the morning so they could drop off the new machine. How good is that, eh? I'm well impressed. Well done PICT!

a good reason to boycott Selfridges?

Apparently, in response to 'high demand from customers', Selfridges have decided to launch their Christmas range this week.

High demand? Yeah right, what a load of tosh. Well, I won't be going in there, that's for sure. I don't even celebrate Christmas, so why the hell should I have it rammed down my throat in the shops? It's August, for Pete's sake! Christmas is still 140 days away. That's 21 weeks. Almost 5 month.

Selfridges, you are pathetic if you think we believe your excuse for pushing this cynical marketing ploy upon us.

if Cooldrums can do it, then so can I !

OK, so I was jealous. So I went and bought myself a new camera. I'm still learning how to use it, but I like it already. It's a Pentax ist DL2, digital SLR.

So, here's one for starters: