End of Work Checklist

• Out of Office set  - Check
• Voice mail updated - Check
• Hair cut - Check
• e-mail shut down - Check

The long weekend starts here........

....  We have a day at the CLA Game Fair tomorrow and then on Saturday we are taking TP off to a PGL Camp up near Grantham for a week. The lucky git is going to spend a week riding motorbikes and driving quads, go-karts and ATVs. No wonder he is known as Spoilt B@stard round here.

When I were a lad ... it was The Double Deckers and an episode of Why Don't You and then they shut the telly down* until Play School at 4 o'clock and that was for little kids. They might, for some unknown reason, put the horse racing on in the afternoon but I would have rather stuck knives in myself than watch that.

Digression over - He is a good kid and he will enjoy the week but he does look at 30% and I in a bemused Stranger in a Foreign Land sort of way when we start mumbling on about only having 3 TV channels and no DVD or Computer or Games Consoles when we were his age.

"What did you do?" he asks and I know I am lucky that when we say we read or made things and went outside he understands because he does those things too and does not start to suffer withdrawal symptoms if he is removed from a room with a 40" Flat Screen in it.

He has had his hair cut short this evening after being just off the top of his collar for the past couple of years. He looks very different and it will take a bit of getting used to. It is also quite ironic as he tried Sea Cadets earlier in the year but didn't really take to it.

One of the differences of opinions was about his hair even though it met their criteria of being above the collar - JUST - he now has the perfect cut from their perspective but has decided to take another tack.

.......  and as for the rest of the weekend - I have to re-assemble the Kitchen.

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* They didn't but they did tend to show programmes which didn't tend to appeal to a 13 year old. For example; The News and The Open University and I hasten to add that the Testcard does not count as scheduled programming

Marauder's Bumper Book of Crime - an occasional series

Today I grabbed my fleece as showers were predicted.

I thrust "poo bags" in one pocket and my phone in the other and then grabbed a handful of dog biscuits as treats for good behaviour.  These were placed in the usual pocket and I watched as they trickled out on to the floor.

Somewhat bemused I investigated further ..........

............ That maniac dog had simply chewed through the pocket lining while the fleece was left conveniently on a chair back and had munched the biscuits that had been left there from yesterday.

Limbo

I am feeling like I am in a strange Limbo Land at the moment.

Dante's have a rule that states that there is a 90 day notice period before I can move from one post to another. I find this peculiar as, if I resigned to take an external post I would only need to serve one month's notice. I can see no reason for this extended period other than it gives the Lesser Demons more time to find another tortured Soul to replace me.

Why Do I feel like I am in Limbo? The work I am currently assigned is unstructured and very messy. There does not appear to be any formal processes or management systems to follow so it is frustrating too. But a good while back I decided to move to another role...

.... now here is an interesting thought - not one of mine, but interesting - You don't decide to seek a new job, You decide to leave your current job. I gave this some thought and it has some merit. If one's job is great it takes an enormous incentive to get an individual to leave and take a new post with all the risks and uncertainties involved. However, if one's current position is not pressing all, or for that matter any, of an individuals buttons they are far more likely to seek new pastures. It is the current job that is making them go not the new one.

I have to admit that I do fall in to this category I enjoy my role but I have been on my current assignment for over 3 years and that is far too long. I am long overdue for a change and hence am moving on. It may well be a Frying Pan / Fire situation but at least all the problems will be ones I havent seen before.

What I am trying to get across is that I am on an assignment that I will not see the end of, I am in the process of handing over my job to my replacement and am only committed to my current assignment for a few weeks more. My work ethic ensures that I will perform my duties to the best of my abilities but this extended notice period and now the hand over means that I am rapidly becoming a spare part.

I have said before that I like to keep busy but I am going to have to take a back seat so that my replacement can take up the reins. I will find a few odds and ends to keep me occupied but I feel that this extended period is not good for me or the role I am filling.

My Associates become frustrated because they know I will not be there to finish the job but the person they need does not get identified for weeks. Also I am forced to perform my job more as a Consultant than at the more detailed level that I usually operate as that would be a virtual impossibility to pass to a colleague.

So the 90 day rule - who does it actually benefit? Option a) me, Option b) the Customer, Option c) My colleagues or Option d) My Manager......

...... answers on a postcard or the back of a sealed envelop to the usual address.

Nothing to see here!

Tuesday.

Dropped in to the nearest circle of Hell to start passing over my work to the Tortured Soul that will take over from me when I move to another type of torture in a few weeks time.

He has taken over and pushed my rock up the hill on a few previous occasions and I know that he will do a great job. We both tend to push rocks in much the same way so the hand-over should be pretty straightforward.

I had a massive boulder operation going on last year and had to pass it to the same soul as I needed to go and have an Eagle peck at my Heart. When I came back a few weeks later all was well and the rock/hill situation was as Lucifer wanted......

.... a safe pair of hands!

On the Home Front it was dog training this evening and this is a revelation after Puppy Training which was becoming a little "samey". The training exercises are far more advanced and both Tyson & Marauder are really doing well. It is great for TP too as he is in a class with adults and it is a level playing field. He is able to work with Marauder and achieve at the same level as every one else. No "leg ups", no allowances. He is doing really well and it is great for his confidence and maturity. I am really proud of him.

It is a short week this week as I have Friday off. We are planning to spend the day at the CLA Game Fair. I am hoping for good weather and may have to make an offering to the Gods* to ensure Sunny Spells as a minimum rather than the Heavy Rain Showers that are currently forecast. 

* Hmmm - all I have a chickens and I think I'd need something approaching Human Sacrifice to get that degree of change in the weather. Ah well - better take a coat and wellington boots.

All I have to do now....

..... is put it all back together.

30% and I have finally finished painting the kitchen. We started it weeks ago and should be proudly showing off our efforts by now but a few things came up. There were occasions when simply doing nothing seemed a much better idea than applying emulsion to the walls. Anyway, we applied the last coats t the walls today and this is when I found out that I am probably no more intelligent than a pigeon...

.... let me explain. We have a tall larder fridge and we moved it in to sit along side the island so that we could paint the walls and skirting boards of the aforementioned appliance's aperture. As I have already explained it then lived in this temporary location for a few weeks but it now back in its proper place. The thing is, every time I make 30% a cup of coffee I go to get the milk from where the fridge was rather than where the fridge is.

In other words I have managed to condition myself to go to a location where I expect to received milk in much the same way as a pigeon will peck at a coloured spot in order to receive a few grains of corn. I hasten to add that I have managed to break this conditioning in under 24 hours but it was quite an odd experience to find oneself walking towards a space expecting to grab a carton of semi-skimmed.

Other decorating events. For  brief spell Marauder - it is always Marauder - had a few patches of "Putting Green" on her. That's the feature wall, the rest of the room is Ivory Lace. I didn't want an "accent" Dog so then spent a good few minutes cleaning off the paint. I then discovered that using the dish cloth did not earn 30%'s full approval.

This reminded me of a Fly/Drive holiday we had in the States three years ago. No, not the moaning about using the dish cloth to clean the dog, the fact that the dog was briefly green in places.

As part of our Road Trip we visited Monument valley which is in the Navajo Nation. If you have never been there it's worth a trip but the Navajo Nation has its own ground rules which mean that it is unlike the rest of the USA.

For starters there is no alcohol allowed. Apparently this is an attempt to control the alcoholism that is prevalent in the population. I have a couple of thoughts on this...

... thought number 1; that law is great and will stop people who can't drive and don't have any friends that can drive from drinking. Everyone else will just get in their car and buy it just outside the border. Thought number 2; the Nation ought to concentrate on making the Nation a little more hospitable and encouraging to visitors as they seem to have two potential industries farming and tourism and they don't seem very good at either. It is no wonder that the locals tend to drink.

The end result is that we spend a night in a Trailer Park in a static van that smelt of Horse Piss.

The Valley is a fantastic natural spectacle and worth a visit - just don't try to spend a night in the vicinity until the Navajo Nation get their act together.

What about the dog and the paint - Yes. I'm getting to that. To give you some idea of what it is like in the Nation, they paint a broad, coloured stripe of gloss paint down their dog's back to show that it isn't a stray. Hence the dogs at the Horse Piss Trailer Park were a a shade of aquamarine that matched the caravans. They smelt pretty similar too. The reason for this........

........ apparently a local hobby is shooting strays so painting your dog reduces the chance of it ending up as target practice for the bored and drunk locals.

Only in America.

I've just got my life back

Its Friday and the weekend has started.

I have had an odd week. For the past few days I feel that I have been a complete arse hole and have repeated pointed out deficiencies in an attempt to get matters on to a sound footing. Let me explain.....

Dante's Nine Circles of Hell is a very sound analogy for my Employer. We have the normal stuff that we do day in, day out like having tortured souls push rocks to the tops of hills. The rocks then roll back down and are pushed back up ad infinitum. Occasionally one of these rocks rolls in to a pool of molten brimstone and we have to engage other Souls and possible Imps to sort this out but this is all pretty much Business as Usual.

But Lucifer has a plan for Universal Domination and that means tempting new Souls to come to Dante's Circles of Hell. We have a set of 7 Service Lines to do this. You must have heard of them; Gluttony, Greed. Envy, Pride, Lust etc. and we use these to bring in new souls to torture.

Now you must understand that there are other Forces out there that will try to protect these Souls and divert them from Lucifer's path or at least ensure that they give Lucifer a good talking to. These other Forces fall in to a number of categories including Competitors and Lawyers.

As a consequence of this we have a number of Business Processes that we need to follow to ensure that we are torturing souls in the right way and have all the necessary paperwork assigning their Souls over to Dante's - signed in blood, Obviously - before we get them up to necks in Brimstone or chained to rocks whilst a large Eagle pecks at their heart on a daily basis.

Yes - I'm getting to the point - These processes are there for a good reason and have been designed by people far more experienced than I am. they are bulky and they are arduous but they are there for a reason and ensure that once we have a Soul chained to a rock they better have a bloody good reason for asking for Sunday off to go and see their Mum.

I have had to be an arse hole because I have been repeatedly pointing out that these processes need to be engaged to absolutely no avail.  I might as well have tried to fly by flapping my arms - and as you know I don't have the right Employer - you have to work for one of the other Guys if you want to have flying perks.

Yes - I was getting nowhere and then I started to point out what a lot of stupid questions they were asking and copied the Imp's Skidmarks manager in on a couple of mails and suddenly things start to happen.

This tells me three things;

1. I was probably right to press for these things to be done
2. The Skid Mark was probably not right to have ignored me
3. Escalation can be an effective tool

The thing is, do I want to be an arse just to get things done?

Escape Committee

Day # 263 - The Escape Committee met in Hut C. Golfy, Stretch and myself were joined by a new chap called The Doctor. Stretch & Golfy say he's a Decent Sort but he seems a little too friendly with one of the Camp Commandants for my liking. He may just be keeping tabs but I'm going to be cautious until I know him better.

We discussed progress on "Tom, Dick & Harry" and it seems like Tom is progressing better than the other two escape routes at present. I am certain that it is on target to surface deep in the trees and I plan to make my escape on the evening of 5th August when it is a new moon.

I obviously need a Dummy to put in my bunk in case the Night Guards sweep the hut with their torches and I hope to have news on the Dummy in the next day or so. Golfy & Stretch are concerned that I will get caught but I'm prepared and there is no way they are going to catch me off guard with "Good Luck". I know that the correct response is a puzzled look and "Danke" in my best Bavarian accent.

I had hoped to keep my escape Top Secret but it seems that Stretch lost his nerve under questioning and may have let something slip to one of the sub-lieutenants . Everything seems fine but I need to keep my ears open for any unexpected changes in Guard rotas.

Golfy is having problems with his Dick ....

..... having hit a strata of shale. He either needs to take apart  more of the bunks to shore up the length he has managed or give up and look for another way out of the camp. Personally I think the Glider has much style about it but is not the most practical option. Disguising himself as a Trooper and joining the back of the squad as they exit the main gate is much more likely to get him to the Swiss Border.

As for Stretch he has had no luck with Harry and may be here until the Conflict is over. He says he can see but his failing eyesight is common knowledge and I plan to run fast and can't carry him with me. He is a Good Egg and I know that he can be trusted to keep on making escape attempts. He know that this is his duty  as an Englishman's and an Officer. He is so Brave.

He should look on the  bright side though - he will get to open all of the Red Cross Parcels with me and Golfy gone. I gave him a parcel today that should make his supper much nicer than the gruel we have been getting these past 8 months.

I have to go now as they Guard is coming round - "quick, tuck this under the stove"

Heart Rate

Following on from yesterday's post I carried out a few basic calculations.

The average heart rate for a Human Being is 72 beats per minute. After a few divisions this can be seen to equate to about 39.6 years.

Apparently our ability to manipulate our environment and provide medical care gives us an extra 1 million heart beats or 26.4 years. That is quite an impressive improvement but surprisingly still not that far off the Biblical "3 score years and 10".

Using this basic information it would be wise to keep people you dislike as stressed a possible, thereby getting them to hit the magic 2.5B as early as possible.

It is with great disappointment that I learn that even if I can push the heart rate to an average of 100 bpm the Imp's Skid-mark is still going to be around for another 19.025 years. CURSES!

Saner stuff - it was the first Dog Training Class since Tyson has finished her Season. We have also now been promoted out of the Puppy Class since T&M achieved their Bronze KC Award. They both did really well and are definitely not the worst dogs in the new class and it is surprising how their behavior changes when they are in a class of older dogs.

Whilst in an educational vein it was also TP's Parents Evening and all was well. Anyone who knows TP will be relieved to hear that the XBox Controls and i Pod Touch privileges have been reinstated.

A change in the weather.

My mood matches the weather today - overcast, grey clouds, a little sullen perhaps.

A few entries back I boldly stated, or should that be "stated boldly" ? - that I wouldn't be mentioning work as it was hard to make it interesting to a reader with no actual investment in the Organisation. You didn't beleve me did you?

Well the Imp's Skidmark has been on form today. I had three emails from him. Every one of them, and I am not exaggerating, had been answered, prior to their issue by me over the past few days. He was, of course, on the distribution lists of these mails. I tried talking to his Senior PM but "birds of a feather...."

In the end I decided to reply to each of his mails embedding a pdf of the earlier mail where I had answered the questions he was now asking. I had responded to all three by 9.30 this morning.

Funnily enough I have had quite a quiet day today.

Other stuff: It is Step Mum's birthday today she will be 412 in cat years. I don't think I ever properly grasped that one. "How old us your dog?" "He is 9, which is 63 in dog years". No its not. It is 9 years. Your dog is not on a planet that is rotating round the sun 7 times faster than the one I am on, and the last time I looked the definition of a year was in the region of 365 days or the period of time it takes the Earth to complete a full orbit of the Sun.

What is happening here is that they are trying to equate the age of a dog with the age of a human so you can work out when it is likely to go and scorch patches on the Elysian Fields.

This is where it gets interesting - vaguely - not really interesting. For most mammals their lifespan is approximately 1.5 Billion Heart beats. The reason that mammals have different lifespans when measured in years is all down to body size. The smaller the animal the faster the heart beats and hence the shorter its life when measured as a unit of time.

The only exception to this is Human Beings as medical advances have allowed us to live longer than our body size would suggest. So, going full circle - comparing a dog's life span to a humans is a bit odd.

Success at last.

I forgot to mention that it was the Village Horse Show on Saturday. I had absolutely no intention of going as I am not a great fan of the horse. That has a lot to do with a pushy, horsey Mother but I'm not going to go in to that now. I just need to state that I can ride, but don't.

I have a great respect for working horses but I just cannot see the point of hacking..... and how bloody miserable do they look as you crawl past at 4 miles  per hour. Why do something if it makes you that unhappy? I'm not sure if it is a regional thing but the women and girls (never, actually very rarely, men) who hack around here look as miserable as sin.

Anyway, another digression, I had no intention of going but I was walking Tyson & Marauder on Friday evening and we happened across a Gentleman with two aged Collies. He asked if we were planning to enter them in the Dog Show that was in the Schedule of the aforementioned Horsey Extravaganza - thus the seed was sown.

I mentioned it to 30% and she thought it was a marvelous idea and I could see that it was going to get me out of at least 2 hours of emulsioning so obviously I was all for it.

The weather was splendid and the afternoon could only have been better if there had been a beer tent. Marauder came third in the Puppy class and Tyson stormed through to win the Dog in best condition. How she managed to not get a place in the Puppy class but win another class hands down does question the Judges objective set of criteria but I'm not going to dwell.

We drove home - too damned hot to walk and bathed in T&M's reflected Glory. 30% was considering making an official complaint as the dog that won best in show was from Stourport which is over 20 miles away and therefore not local - "Leave it 30, they're not worth it"......

.... plus they are going to regret getting a St Bernard when they realise it is basically a drool machine. I hate slobbery dogs - Sell-by-date take note!

Where are they now?

Today, for some reason, I found myself with an urgent desire to track down the Mice from the Marvellous Mechanical Mouse Organ that used to appear on 1970s Children's TV Series Bagpuss.

Now I bet you are all thinking Bagpuss; Saggy, cloth cat, baggy and a bit loose at the seams - Yeah Right! That is all "front". He was an evil manipulator that made Jabba the Hutt look like a thoroughly decent fellow - that stuff with Han Solo and the carbonite was all a misunderstanding that was sorted out over a few drinks a long time ago ....... in a Galaxy far, far away.

Sorry, bit of a digression, back to Bagpuss - That shop was a front for all sorts of  criminal activity including drugs and prostitution, Why do you think that you never saw much of Emily in any of the episodes? She was too busy upstairs "earning" to pay for Bagpuss's opium habit.

If you look closely at the character you can see that they are all nefarious individuals; Madeleine - Brothel Madame, Gabriel - a Drunk Musician and Professor Yaffle - a Gay Intellectual that amuses Bagpuss or Don Bagpuss as he is better known.....

..... and now to the Mice, that evil cloth cat had them hooked on drugs and enslaved them to work for him in that sham shop; fixing thing and putting them in the window for their owners to find and collect. What sort of Business Model is that? How can you run an Organisation with approximately 10 employees, that we know off, with no apparent income. It just doesn't add up. That cat was up to something - something VERY BAD.

Well I can report that every dog has his day and that dog was Shep. With little to do when not on the Blue Peter set he used to Moonlight as a Sniffer Dog for "The Met" and Don Bagpuss was one of his first major Busts. The Don was put away for a long time. Personally I think that he should have gone to "the Chair" but they could never get anyone to testify to the allegations about the Clangers "sleeping with the fishes".

Madeleine did a 10 year stretch in Holloway which was reduced to 3 after she spilled the Beans about Magpie hostess Jennie Hanley.

Yes, the Mice, they did OK - after rehab they took to the High Seas and became Pirates. They fashioned a Long ship from a Nike Training Shoe using the lace holes for the oars and can be seen locally when the stream is high singing in their high pitched voices......

"we will rape and we will pillage,
we will burn your bloody village ...."

I love a happy ending.

Thumbs Up

I forgot to mention that the Customer Services Team at Dualit deserve a vote of gratitude as the Bean Hopper for the coffee grinder has turned up.

I can now remove the large bandage holding a soggy wodge of coffee grinds against my skin. I was hoping it would work in a similar way to an HRT Patch.

I have had positive experiences with this Company before. Six months ago our Toaster  failed. It was about 20 months old and outside the warranty period. I called Dualit to see whether it could be repaired and the Lady at the end of the line simply asked what colour it was and where I lived. She then promptly sent out another unit.

I was amazed and it is a classic example of how much higher we rate a company when we see how well it responds to a problem. Apparently we will rate such an organisation higher than one that gives consistently good service. I have a 40 year old Kenwood Blender that is fantastic. It never misses a beat and I really rate them but Dualit sits higher in my Consumer Consciousness because of their Customer Service.

Incidentally, 30% smashed the Liquidiser on the Kenwood - she breaks all of my Kitchen toys :-(

All Sorts

Well Yesterday was somewhat monopolised by a lesser Demon from Dante's Inferno. No, he is not even worth the title Demon, Imp's skid mark is probably more appropriate. I spent the day being told stuff that I had told him and his two predecessors, and their Managers, weeks if not months before.

They have finally got the message. I don't understand why it takes so long. I'm mean I am not allowed to punch them in the head and recite the problem with each syllable being timed to a punch. Apparently we have a code of conduct which prevent this educational approach. I am therefore left to produce PowerPoint Presentations, E-mails and documents to describe the issue.

Now I'm not in the same galaxy as professional writers but I can string a few paragraphs together and one of my readers was complimentary about a succinct analysis I recently made in the Journal so I do not understand why it takes months for a real problem to be recognised.

Actually I do. I have had the pleasure to work with some really good Project Managers in my time all very different but all very good. This is not one of those occasions.

So, Yesterday, a 13 hour working day including an hour spent on the M25 travelling 11 miles. Most of the hour was actually spent travelling the first 7 of these. How do you think I handled that? ....

... actually it was OK. The Prius is nice and high and allows me to peer in to peoples cars and I just munched a load of chocolate and crisps and watched the world crawl while I listened to Radio 4.

The only thing that jars is that, by the time you get home and eat, there is very little of the day left for me. I don't count 6 hours in the car as "me time".

Also no Red Kites.

Today, I have found my Mojo and have had a good day pinning things down and getting them passed to the people who need to know, reviewing materials and pointing out how it can be improved. Real work and I feel that I have actually made a difference as compared to yesterday where I am banging my head against an immovable object - My PMs Evolutionary quotient.

You might ask what an Evolutionary Quotient is. I have just invented it. It is a number that indicates how far up the evolutionary tree one is. All species should have an EQ value of 100 i.e. 100 represents that you are 100 percent human or 100% E. coli.  My PM is about 42. In other words Eddy could probably do a better job.

You are probably guessing that I'm not too enamuored with him - and you would be right

Back to today  - I got loads done and had an enjoyable lunch with Dad - he brought home made Tomato soup over and we had a lovely time chatting and keeping up with each others news. He is really excited about his forthcoming birthday present. He doesn't say but I know he is. It will only be three or four weeks more before his puppy arrives and you can see from the way he interacts with Tyson and Marauder how keen he is to have a dog back in his life.

We talked about when I was a child and the Dogs he had then and before; Peggy the ratter and Lassie, Lulu and Fly the three working Border Collie Bitches that my Grandfather had when I was young. Apparently Fly was the best of these and cost £40 back in the early 1960s. That was a lot of money for a dog in those days but she was trained by a local Stock-man and apparently was unbelievable with Cattle and Sheep.

We also pinned down a saying that I recalled from my childhood but wasn't too clear on the details. I have a memory of my Grandfather saying that if you were looking to buy a piece of land you should first tie a donkey to the biggest thistle in the field.

What? I can almost hear you. Basically thistles are deep rooted and like good soil. If the soil is poor or there is bed rock just beneath the surface the thistles will not be good specimens and the Donkey will be left without a tether.

So that is just about it. TP had a successful Sports Day yesterday with two firsts in the 100m and Hurdles and a third in the 800m. I am obviously very proud as I am with the recent School Report which was so good that he actually got the XBox controls returned and I think that the IPod Touch privileges will be reinstated shortly too.

Torn... ?

Today the Other Bike was finally discharged from the Ward and I went and picked her up. Thanks Dad - you are obviously never too old to give your Kids a lift.

She is still lovely and managed to turn a head at the Workshop despite being 15 years old. Now the Vespa is a wild and torrid beast of a Bike and is approached with a feeling of apprehension every time she is ridden*. The Other Bike is completely different. She delights every time and you know that she will give you a fantastic ride but there are no "butterflies". That is not to say that she is boring, far from it but she instills confidence not awe. 

So I feel very differently about her than I do towards the Vespa but in no way is she a wall flower or second rate. She is Japanese in origin and will start every time, she will run forever if serviced properly, if it rains she will shrug it off and will not fall into a pile of rust overnight after the aforementioned downpour. She is the practical one. Comfortable, she will take you to the top of the Country and you wont need a Chiropractor at the end of the trip. She is the practical one. The Vespa is the High Maintenance option. Both are great, just different.

There is no Readers Wife/Supermodel differentiation going on here. If you are half way up Mount Kilimanjaro and there is a camp that needs setting up before the Heavens open - do you want your chosen Life Partner or Naomi Campbell helping out?

The Service and MOT Bill was incredibly low so a big thumbs up to Chris at Redditch Motorcycles. He decided, after a road test to leave the original rubber on as the tires are performing fine. That saved me the best part of £250. Definitely the way to encourage people to come back and explains why he is so busy.

This evening I took TP for his first ever pillion ride. We took it nice and steady and he absolutely loved it. I think it helped that two of his School Mates were passing as he climbed aboard. I asked him if his Cool Rating had risen or plummeted as a result of being spotted. "Definitely risen" was his response.

--------------------------------------

* The feeling afterwards generally tends to be along the lines of "What a Rush" or " Die you Dawdling Gits"

A Fair Day

Today has been spent in a Conference hosted by Dante's most senior Demon in this fair isle.

On the whole it was an enjoyable day but it was very high on glossy presentation and incredibly low on tangible deliverables. I suppose this makes it easy for the senior demons to declare it a success.

I wonder where this cynicism has come from? It may be because these initiatives are a pretty regular occurrence and change tends to be fairly minimal as a result. I feel that I should say "thus far" in case this time they really mean that it, but in an Organisation the size of Dante's fundamental change is all but impossible and dilution of ideas and objectives is a fact of life.

On a more positive note I met a few new people and some of the Presentations were of relevance to the new role that I will be taking on in a couple of months time. So I left at the end of the day in a positive frame of mind.

I got home and picked up a message from the Other Bike's GP who had called to advise that all is well, MOT has been sorted and new rubber has been applied front and rear. A quick call to Dad was made and a lift has been arranged so I can go and collect her tomorrow.

TP will be delighted but in the incredibly nonchalant way that is necessary for a teenager in these modern times. "Cool" is about the most I can expect from him but I did get a "Thanks" when his leathers arrived today. He is very off hand about it but I know that he is really keen to get out on the Bike and he spent a good few minutes trying on his new attire and ensuring that both helmet and gloves worked as an ensemble.

So I will bid you Good Evening at the end of a Day where nothing much really happened but fortunately the little that did occur was all relatively good.

I'm not dead.

30% and I were discussing something this evening and we had one of those "jinx" moments where we both think and say the same thing. I can't recall what it was and it really doesn't matter. We have them a lot as we are very similar in a lot of ways.

But I digress, I said " I am like an open book to you" and she replied "possibly a pamphlet" and then revised this down to "actually probably more like an open comic". We laughed and that was a good start to the evening.

Both of our days have been frustrating and it is so nice to spend the evening taking supper in the garden and then just relaxing away from the posturing and game playing of the work environment.

Both of our Employers have recently undergone a culling process and this has had effects that may not have been quantified or expected. Many of the survivors seem to be suffering a form of battle fatigue having been on notice of possible redundancy for 3 months and having been notified that they are safe are now tired as a result of the stress and have a questioning outlook having been forced to consider their job role and what to do if they are forced to consider pastures new.

Basically they have undergone a period of self examination combined with a review of their working life and what it actually means to them. It comes as no surprise to me to talk to people that are less committed than they might have been previously.

That is why it is so good to have 30% come home and to be able to laugh and switch off.

So, what have I been doing since my last entry? Well I suppose I need to state that this is my Journal and if things are mundane or bogged down with work there is not much point in jotting it down. Do I want to look back at this in 6 months time and see oblique references to a tit of a Project Manager who is now long gone?

No, not really and I am sure that they will mean even less to you, if you are out there, so if the day is dull I will try to find something that is worthwhile but if not - no entry. The post about the Red Kites a couple of days back is a good example. The working day was long and left little time for anything else. The Kites were a high point that perhaps could mean something to a casual reader and, if I look back, the memory of them soaring above the Motorway is a better thing to hold on to than a debate about the technical intricacies of a long dead project.

So, what have I been up to? Well the weekend saw me take another crack at the lawn that has been mercilessly attacked by Tyson & Marauder. I hope that, as they are nearly ready to go on to adult dog food, the lower protein level will result in less scorch marks on the lawn.

So, I'm an open comic. I'd hope it was like Wilf in The Bash Street Kids but it is more likely to be something out of Bunty.

I forgot to mention.....

This talk of wild life has reminded me that the Bear may have returned to the locality.

I went to stroke Eddy a couple of days ago and he pulled his head away. This is very unusual as Eddy is one of those cats that loves to have his ears scratched and his cheeks rubbed. On closer inspection I could see that he had two nasty gashes on his head; one at the base of his left ear and the other above the right eye.

His claws are a little ragged too.

He has either been involved in a major scrap or has forgotten that cars are harder than cats. I really hope its just a bad fight as he really has used up all of his nine lives. With just three legs he cannot afford to damage any of his remaining limbs.

On the plus side his wounds are all superficial and are healing well - but then again cat bites tend to get infected, car wounds are less likely to.

Yesterday, and the day before.

Yesterday saw my working day start at 7.30 in the morning. Not a leisurely perusal of emails but assembling a status report in preparation for a 9 o'clock call.

"Why didn't you do it earlier?" I hear the scathing questioners. I tried, oh yes, I tried. I asked for the updates 36 hours in advance, and reminded for them too, and my dear colleagues decided to drop them in at the last possible minute. Don't worry - I know who you are and am likely to be equally cooperative should the tables turn.

A call at 8 and another at 9 and then a shower and shave and a Journey South. I wont go in to boring detail but it was a long day.

I took the Prius which is never the first choice for a Motorway Journey* but the drivers seat is very high, not at truck level but at least at White Van heights, and so commands quite splendid views from the M40. The high point was to see the Red Kites circling over the surrounding fields searching for prey. Their distinctive curved Swallow tail makes them easy to identify and they are a spectacular site and very common nowadays. Here in bad man's locality Buzzards are the re-surging bird of prey but it is reported that the Kites are making a comeback here too although I am yet to spot one locally.

I mentioned that a sausage making session was planned for Wednesday evening. This went well and we ended up with about 6.5 lbs of Black Pudding sausages and about 4 Lbs of Cajun sausages. Part of the process is to test fry a sample of the mix before stuffing to make sure that the seasoning is right. Wow! The Cajun recipe calls for Cayenne Pepper, Chili Powder, Garlic, Minced Onion, Salt, Black Pepper, Allspice and fresh Thyme as well as the contribution made by the Pig. They certainly hit the spot and it will be interesting to see what they are like once the flavours have had the chance to mingle and mature.

------------------------------------------------------------------

* especially when Dante's mileage rate is taken in to consideration

Other stuff

The Other Bike's Doctor called this afternoon to advise that the carbs had been cleaned and it now runs beautifully but will only tick over on three cylinders.

The carbs will need to come off and be sent for Ultrasonic Cleaning.

Ho Hum! I suppose it is a good job the Vespa is Fuel Injection!

I'm guessing that it will be a week or more until the Other Bike is anywhere near ready. TP's Leathers may have arrived by then.

It has all got a bit culinary today.

Village Idiot called in yesterday evening and has again liberated a quantity of Rhubarb from one of his "customers" gardens and kindly given it to me.

I have called in a clean up squad and am pretty sure that the soft fruit * police will have problems pinning anything on me as a "Receiver" unless they read this Journal. The stems were prepped and stewed before breakfast and the the leaves are now in the compost heap. All of the implements have been washed and the Rhubarb is cooling before being packed in to the Freezer.

"You got nuffing on me Guv - that's been in there for months". I will be using the Cat's Brief if an arrest follows.

My lunch break saw me preparing a marinade for some Salmon steaks. I'm not a huge fan of the fish - unless smoked and served with soft scrambled eggs -  but letting it rest in a marinade comprising Oil, Garlic, Black Peppercorns, Salt, fresh Rosemary, Chili flakes and Worcester Sauce certainly improves it. I just grind all of the ingredients in a pestle and mortar and let the fish swim in that for as long as possible before baking or pan frying....

... a few New Potatoes and some fresh green beans and that is Supper sorted.

There will be more Foody stuff later as 30% has bought some shoulder of pork at a bargain price and the plan is to make a batch of Black Pudding Sausages this evening.

* Before the Pedants come rushing in, I know that Rhubarb is a leaf stem not a fruit and therefore more akin to Celery or Cale than Strawberries or Tomatoes which are true fruits.

R & R

Rest and recuperation.

I haven't mentioned the brave members of the Arachnid Special Forces for a while but I think its time to give you an update. They appear to have been on an extended period of R&R and possibly a further "R". In this instance the extra "r" stands for reproduction ....

.... one of my walks takes me across a piece of relatively unimproved pasture. Parts of the field are grazed and mown for silage but a reasonable chunk of the meadow is on a steep slope and is left for the rabbits. It's a lovely area of wild flowers and so steep that you tend to pause to take in the view whilst you catch your breath.

Today I noticed a quite amazing structure in the grasses. In fact, I noticed several. On the side of the hill adjacent to my path there were several small Spider Gazebos. At a height of about 10 inches from ground level about six or eight grass stems had been pulled together and held fast with spider silk. This living teepee frame had then been covered with a sheet of the finest web to form a cover and there inside this Spider Tent, suspended at the apex was a pea sized egg cluster, again shrouded in silk.

It may be a Nursery Web Spider (Pisaura mirabilis) but I am far from an expert just fascinated to see these delicate little structures amongst the grasses.

A brief mention from Pedants corner - it should be noted that I have referred to these shelters as teepees and not wigwams because the two are entirely different types of shelter and not synonymous as many think.

Jigsaw Puzzle

This morning saw me sitting cross legged assembling shards of bean hopper with Gaffer Tape. If I had been capable of coherence I would have seen the similarity to a Junkie gathering the scant grains of heroin from discarded wraps.

I must have my fix.

Roll on three o'clock

Yep, can't wait - most of England will be suffering existential angst in front of a television which means that the roads will be relatively traffic free.

I can therefore live my life and take control of its direction .....

... which will be bloody quickly down the bypass and off down the twisty bits.

Possible Grounds for Divorce

The title of this post is one of the worst puns I have ever come up with and I have to admit that I am not a fan of the pun preferring extreme sarcasm, irony or surreal. Apologies.

30% has knocked over the coffee grinder whilst vacuuming and has broken the bean hopper. I remained calm, stern, but calm and rapidly sent an enquiry over to Dualit about their emergency services and dispatch of spares.

You probably don't realise how serious this is but we are talking a critical component of a life support system.

I am extremely concerned to note that Dualit don't dispatch in under 24 hours and will only commit to responding to my enquiry in the next 5 days! What the hell do they think I am going to do until this is resolved? Drink instant coffee. ARE THEY BLOODY INSANE?

I would rather have a dusty floor than no coffee.

I am currently taking shallow breaths with a brown paper bag over my mouth and nose. ITS NOT WORKING!

Saturday Morning

I am drinking my first cup of coffee of the day and Tyson is stood next to me barking in a " there's a child injured at the bottom of the well" sort of way.

We don't have a well and the back door is open. I return to my coffee and Tyson takes a light breakfast.

I hope the child is OK.

A change of pace

What a lovely day.

The weekend is here - nothing special planned and hopefully I will be popping down to Camelot HQ on Monday to pick up a big cardboard cheque rather than be sitting in front of an e-mail application.

What a great way to reject a meeting. " Sorry I'd love to attend but the Sun will be taking a photograph of me accepting a large cardboard cheque presented by a C-List celebrity at the time you have asked me to review your project plan. Rgds a bad man".

Back to reality, had a lovely evening walk and 30% was home in time to accompany me. Tyson is a little willful at the moment and I am guessing it is her hormones. A little troubling that she is charging off at present and ignoring shouts.whistles and claps to attract her attention and call her back. Typical Woman really - does what she wants, when she wants. I have obviously brought her up properly and Ms Greer and associates will be congratulating Tyson for her decision to take control of her life and not be constrained by the directions of a man she lives with chooses to share her life with..

Women's Rights for dogs. I never thought I'd reach that point when I started typing this entry. If any of this looks planned that is coincidence or good fortune. Elements of it may be loosely strung together when I am walking the dogs or stuck on the call from hell but a lot of the time I just start with a blank page and go for it.

Obviously with the weather so splendid at the moment I need to give another salute to my hat which is performing its fine weather duties of shielding my eyes and neck from the sun superbly. A brief nod to Stetson Hats - that's it end of product placement.

This entry is totally back to front as today started with me doing my normal morning routine plus knocking up a Rhubarb Compote - stewing a few Rhubarb stems - that Village Idiot dropped off last night. I love Rhubarb and VI had brought over a dozen or so stalks that he had liberated from a garden that he is supposed to be watering while its owner is away on their hols.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth these are now stewed in their own juices with a couple of desert spoons of sugar and are living in the fridge. They will go nicely with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or what ever else I can find in there. Easy, lovely and free.

A Thai curry for dinner accompanied by a Couple of Beers - Leffe Blonde - end of product placement and the weekend has truly started.

Distance Travelled

Yesterdays entry got me thinking about my family and I only need to go back a generation or two to see how fast the world is changing.

My Grandfather - that's two generations back. He was born in rural Herefordshire on a small farm and was a butcher and cobbler by trade. Fair enough you might say but I have seen one of the first pairs of boots he ever made. He was 9 or 10 years of age and the boot is tiny. My Dad still has it wrapped in an oily cloth to preserver it against the ravages of time. It is now more than 100 years old. He was in the army of occupation after the first world war and apparently filled his pockets with as much German loot as he could find and put it to good use setting himself up as a Market Gardener in the Vale of Evesham between the wars. The second world war was good for him too; shipping veg up to Scotland and illicit cargoes of whisky on the way back. He was never one to miss out on a deal and he wasn't too concerned about the legalities.

He decided that Market Gardening was too labour intensive and went in to Dairy Farming so that was the world I was born in to.

Do you see what I mean? The world I was born in to is completely different to the world I now inhabit and the world that pays my mortgage. Much of my background is alien to the majority of my colleagues. Hedge Laying, castrating lambs and docking their tails, weaning calves from the teat to the bucket, a pig in the sty that is reared for the freezer, haymaking. All of this is me and my Dad and my Grandad. Is it my son?

He loves village life and he is interested in rural life. He will pluck a chicken and has no problem eating it afterwards but there is a disconnect between him and his Grandfather that I feel is larger than the disconnect between me and mine. I know that there will always be change between the generations and I am not the same as my antecedents.

It is just that yesterday's post brought to the surface the journey from an Agricultural / Rural past to a  Commerce / Tech / Rural  present. Imagine referring to a latecomer to a meeting as "Winchcombe" as they hurry in and forget to shut the door behind them.

On a completely different tack, as I strode round the "Three Miler" this evening with T&M I paused and thought how little I would actually move if I didn't have the dogs. Working at home may save a large amount of travelling time and pollute the planet less but it is hardly good for the heart or the waistline. How far would I actually move if I didn't walk the dogs?

Well, the Three Miler is in the region of 5,200 yards if the local name for the walk is anywhere accurate. It takes me just over an hour but I have added bits to it and have created diversions over the fields and up the hill so I'm guessing that based on my rate of walking that is in the region of 3 miles. If I can be arsed I will dig out the Sat Nav one day and take it with me to see if it can get a more accurate distance.

If I didn't do that and worked from home there would be no walk from the car park to the office, the canteen at work is much further than the Coffee machine at home as are the lavatories etc etc. Do you see where I am going? I jotted down these estimates and the result is embarrassing:-

• making coffee. 10 cups @ 16 yard return journey. 160 yards
• WC visits. 5 visits @ 20 yard return journey. 100 yards
• Letting out the chickens. 80 yards
• Egg Collecting. 2 visits at 40 yards each. 80 yards
• Shutting up the chickens 80 yards
• Miscellaneous pottering. 200 yards

 Total Perambulation = somewhere in the region of 700 yards.

That's quite scary. Basically if I didn't have Tyson and Marauder I would need to keep to 7 kilo calories a day or they would be taking me out of here on a forklift and retrieving TV remotes from the folds for the next few weeks.

I dare you to carry out a few honest calcs of your own. Home working may be great for the planet but be careful as it may not be so good for you.

Dads & Daughters

I don't have a daughter, but my Dad does and he used to recite a rhyme; " A Son is a Son until he finds a wife But your Daughter is a Daughter for the rest of your life".

I suppose it is a commentary on the fact that sons tend to be less involved with their birth family once they marry and have one of their own whilst daughters tend to maintain a strong link with their birth family even after marriage.

Why do I type this? Maybe it is a way of recording something of my Dad. He has many sayings including the classic "You will lie in bed until the crows build a nest in your arse, and then you will wake and wonder how the sticks got there". I could go on at length, including the incredibly local "Oi Winchcombe put the wood in the 'ole!" which relates to a village near where he was born where the houses on the main street all had stable doors and the habit was to leave the top door open so that the passing world could be observed. The phrase is used now to refer to an individual who enters or leaves without closing the door.

He deserves a book rather than a Journal entry and I need to think long and hard before I attempt to put something worthy of him in here. He is a great Dad. He has his faults and failings and can be incredibly annoying at times but he is a great Dad and I need to do him justice. That is a good word because good and bad, something that reflect him in balance.

This week we finally sorted his birthday present. As I mentioned, a couple of days back, Dad has decided, 15 years after the loss of Patch, the family JRT, to have another dog. We - or rather 30% - has located the right breed, the right sex and the right colour and she will be ready literally days before his birthday. She is bred by Tyson's breeder so there is no concern over Puppy Farms or any of the many pitfalls of buying a dog nowadays. A deposit was sent off yesterday - by 30% - to reserve her and Dad was advised to only expect a card for the next 5 years or more.

You will note that 30% seemed to do much of this present sorting. Another of my Dad's sayings is "Why have a dog and bark yourself". For some reason I seem to have developed a sharp pain in my side. That would be 30% reading over my shoulder.

On the subject of dogs, Tyson has come in to her first season so we are excluded from Puppy Training for the next couple of weeks. It can be chaos with 14 or more puppies so imagine what the presence of a young bitch on heat would do!

Puppy class is on Tuesdays and Tyson's maturation was a perfect excuse not to go after a  long day with the customer. I did however manage to demonstrate a new level of meeting etiquette yesterday. I know that I stated that I don't write about work because it is not that interesting but this was mildly amusing.... after presenting to an assembled group for 3 hours I felt a little light headed and started to sweat profusely. I paused, and while the debate about delivery timescales progressed, I took my blood sugar with a portable kit that I carry. Hmm! 2.9 - no wonder I feel vague it should be 5 or slightly higher. That's being a diabetic and not having a break.

I closed my laptop, placed it in it bag and informed the meeting that I was diabetic, that my blood sugar had plummeted and that I needed to leave and eat adding that if I carried on I would make less sense than I had thus far.

That's one way to leave a meeting - especially when you are the lead speaker! Apparently it diffused the tension somewhat and stopped a productive session turning bad.

I'm guessing that its not a tactic that I can use on a regular basis though.

Yesterday

Yesterday was Fathers Day.

I have a Father and, allegedly, am one too. Therefore yesterday was set aside for me. I was expecting a parade and a couple of minutes for a personal homage/retrospective in the evening news. Neither of these happened.

It was however a lovely day. The sun shone which meant that the full English Breakfast that 30% had organised for Phil (FIL - Father-in-law "ish") and the rest of her immediate family could be taken out on the Terrace so we had a leisurely couple of hours pigging out on mostly pig. Home made sausage and bacon and the chickens pitched in with a few eggs to. I must admit that the melon, pineapple and strawberries were courtesy of Tesco.

I was then allowed to peruse the Motorcycle News and potter around for a couple of hours while 30% popped in to town to purchase a few bits and pieces. Its amazing what you get done when you don't have to do anything and the tax disk holder is now affixed to the Vespa and I have replaced the trailer light plug that Marauder chewed off a couple of weeks ago - AND IT WORKS.

Later on I popped over to see my Dad and took Tyson with me. She is great company in the car as she sits on the Bench Seat' leans against you and looks out of the window. Doesn't move around  or make a fuss - the perfect companion. My Dad adores her and was delighted to see her, He has recently decided to get another dog having been without one for 15 years and it was Tyson that precipitated that decision.

It must be hard to decide to make a decision to take on a companion that might outlive you but my Dad has taken that step. Mind you he is not alone as we met a couple at the Dog Training Demo on Saturday who are in their 80's and have a 14 month old Jack Russel. Now I know they were both "young" 80year olds but that dog is going to make at least 13 or 14. I suppose their kids will, at least, inherit a well trained JRT.

Tyson perfumed as expected; made a huge fuss of Dad then fell asleep on his feet until it was time to come home.

A leisurely evening featured beer and wine and then an early turn in as today is a school day.

Today, to quote Mark Williams, I 'ave been mostly preparing a PowerPoint presentation

A funny thing happened on the way to the Forum

I used to frequent a Forum for a period of time. Have you ever done that?

That's the way to take a random and hopefully not representative sample of the Internet community and God what a depressing experience that is. I popped back in there for a couple of minutes this morning before I came in to draft today's Journal entry and it was never like I'd been away.

Yep - my blood pressure was through the roof and I was frothing at the mouth at the pointless crap people will take the time to put forward in debate. Now I know that many will regard the stuff I write here as absolute rubbish, but you came to me. I don't put this forward as an opinion or argument and I don't put myself forward as a subject matter expert or guru in any particular knowledge or lifestyle area. I'm just a bad man living in the English Midlands recording his thoughts and days.

Forums or fora, apparently either plural is acceptable, are quite interesting places to dip in to but never make the mistake I made and join one. They are populated by some of the most truly dreadful people you will ever encounter. I've seen them all including "The only gay on the forum" who posted a lot of camp innuendo but knew absolutely nothing about the subject being discussed. I mean what is the point in waiting 5 minutes for a Microsoft OS PC to boot up plus a further 3 minutes to get some form of Broadband connectivity only to post "I cant help but I'm sure that someone will be along soon who can". For Christ's sake! Would you not re-read that before hitting the Post button and think "well that makes me look like a bit of a fuck wit doesn't it".

We are talking about common interest groups - I intentionally avoid the term community as the only sentence relevant to Forums with "Community" in it should also have the words "Care, in" and "the". - sorry, we are talking about common interest groups where Post Count is King. Every User has a post count which records the number of times they have made an entry in the Forum. Be very careful how you regards this statistic. The uninitiated might will think "Oh that person has made millions of posts, they must be an absolute expert on the subject". They might, but then again you might find that 87% of their posts are made up of "LOL" and "Hugs" and "Capital letters are regarded as SHOUTING".

If you are underneath a Ford Capri from the early 80's and need to know the easiest way to remove the rear axle do you really want to put your trust in an anonymous man who works all day as an Accounts Clerk and then spends his evenings in front of a computer either putting unmoderated bullshit in to a Forum or cruising free porn websites? That way lies bruised knuckles and a large piece of metal falling on your upper body, or if you are him, a huge post count and a sore wrist. Get yourself a Haynes Manual or talk to the Guy down the street who spends his evenings lying underneath a Capri.

It amazes me that people access Fora via the Internet but then seem to forget that they are using a colossal information repository and ask the most basic of questions. I kid you not, I checked out the Forum I used to frequent and a Poster was referring to a Lhasa Apso. I'm not going to go in to why they were asking about a dog on a Poultry forum but, and this is the point, they posted " Lhasa, I'm not sure of the spelling". Have these people never noticed that Google actually has "Do you mean" functionality where it checks the spelling our your searches and gives you alternatives in case you can't spell. How stupid are you when you type a word that you aren't sure how to spell, point out that you aren't sure how to spell it and don't bother using the Internet to check the spelling. Would you want to take advice from a person with that level of intellect?

I could go on ad infinitum about that Forum but I will finish with this. A poster titled their post as URGENT - Sick Chicken and then went on about how concerned they were and how they needed immediate advice as they were absolutely beside themselves with worry over the sick bird. ..... Yep ... so bloody concerned that they went to their PC and wrote a post. Didn't think to pop it in a cardboard box and run it over to the vets.

Hungry?

I woke this morning and the alarm clock said just gone 4. I congratulated the aforementioned timepiece at having evolved to such a point that it no longer gave any unnecessary precision in the time it displayed.

Aside.... How many times do you actually need to know the precise time? Generally to the nearest 5 minutes is more than adequate. So why are clocks so precise? Mind you, Commander Data couldn't contract "is not" to "isn't" so I'm guessing that if Doctor Noonien Soongh couldn't do it then current Horologists are going to find it a bit beyond them to give me a clock that says " time to get off to work" rather than "8:15".

I nearly died at the thought of tossing and turning for three hours so did what all good Atheists do and prayed for sleep. Fortunately the Gods, who don't exist, smiled on me and the next thing I knew Jon Humphrys was announcing the news at 7.

So where is this going? Part of my early Morning ritual is to feed Potato the contents of a Whiskas Pouch.

Now I know this is not an original comment but why are cat foods not sparrow and mouse flavour rather than Tuna and Salmon? Have you seen a Tuna? They are Ocean Monsters that can easily get to 9 or 10 feet long and weigh hundreds of lbs. Now I know that Eddy claims to have beaten a bear in a fight but can you really see a Moggy diving from a Helicopter in to the Southern Ocean to wrestle a Tuna to the surface in time for tea? Imagine finding that corpse has been dragged through the cat flap.

Alright I'm getting there... Potato is not original in his approach. He winds himself around your legs and meows until you trip over him or get sick of the noise. He then gets a pouch of cat food and I get a moments peace. Now recently he has taken to scoffing a couple of pouches which is not a big deal as he is a large tabby. But this week I have found that he is applying the same technique to 30% and seems to be getting through 3 or more pouches for Brekky and then retiring to the sofa with a stomach that looks like it actually has a Bluefin Tuna stuffed inside it.

Have you ever seen the film Cool Hand Luke? It is a classic piece of cinema starring a young Paul Newman as a prison inmate. I'm not going to run through the plot here but if you are not familiar I would definitely add it to the list of films to see before you die. Putting aside that cheerful thought, there is a scene in the movie where Newman decides to take on a wager that he can eat 50 hard boiled eggs in an hour. It has to be seen but there a point where Newman is having his distended stomach massaged to facilitate the progress of the eggs and Potato's current gluttony reminded me of this classic film.

I found a Cool Hand Luke DVD in Potato's favourite lair the other day and the chickens' production has been down a bit of late too. If I find a scrawled wager in his fur coat I'll have the proof I need. He's up to no good.

and what do you do?

Thursday.

My day started with a 6 at the front of the time rather than a 5 which was a great improvement.

The end of the working week is drawing closer and the sooner CoB, Friday arrives the better.

I try not to write much about work as it is not particularly interesting unless you are directly involved. Think about it. How long do you listen to your partner when they are in full rant mode about their working day and the trials and tribulations before there is that sense of distance and you try to calm them down and get them off the work rails and on to the domestic tracks? Unless you are directly involved, much of another person's job is purely academic and, unless they are involved in something truly amazing, do you really want to hear about their working day?

.... Be honest!...

Now if I was deep in the jungles of Borneo discovering new species at every step or a member of International Rescue flying off in Thunderbird 2 to rescue miners trapped underground then I might expect a mild interest in my job and the associated Journal entries might make a worthwhile read.

But, I work in the field of Computer Services and that is never going to have you gasping for breath in a PMSL moment. I mean, if I were Pilot of TB2 I would have some cracking photos to drop in to this post.... Thunderbird 4 with Gordon Tracy at the helm slowly being released in to a blue sea to seal a cracked pipe - TAKE NOTE BP. Mind you that may be the problem, their risk management strategy may have been to hope that International Rescue would turn up and save the day in 58 minutes flat including commercial breaks.

However me frothing at the mouth on a conference call is never going to be as spectacular however, having seen the directory photos of some of my colleagues a snap from a face to face meeting might interest the Biologist currently working in Borneo.

This is why I tend not to go in to detail about my job. Mind you there was a mildly amusing incident this morning during a conference call.....

.... actually there wasn't. I have just re-read the paragraph below and it's not amusing. I've therefore edited it out and will leave you to come up with a possible scenario that is funny and might have happened. It's about time this Journal became a bit more of a two way arrangement

When we meet people one of the commonest questions we ask is "What do you do?" Why do we ask this? The answers we get are rarely fascinating and I think that this question is more about social positioning than an actual interest in what another person does for a living. When did you last ask someone what they did and actually career off in to a fascinating and lively chat?

Mind you - true story - I was at an acquaintance's wedding a few years back chatting with the Bride and she blurted out that she used to, shall we say, "host a Gentleman's Chat Service" back in Australia.

You should have seen the Groom's face.

Any Sauces with those words Sir?

It is Godawful o'clock on Wednesday. Yes, I'm still rising early and I prefer any five that is involved in my waking time to be associated with minutes past rather than hours of the the clock!

On Sunday I mentioned that Tyson and Marauder were up for their Kennel Club Bronze award at Dog Training. They have come on really well but the challenge of remaining in a single position under the "STAY" command for a period of 1 minute was going to be very challenging, especially in a room full of dogs that they had never met before. About as much chance as Gazza* walking past a pub.

Well I'm eating my words because they both passed that, and all the other tests, and now have a certificate and rosette to declare their canine good citizenship. TP handles Marauder and it was great for him to have succeeded when a couple of more experienced adults didn't quite make the grade yesterday. I did point out that doing the L on the forehead Loser sign was not quite the appropriate etiquette at the class. I'll hastily add that this is fabricated and he behaved impeccably.

So, what was our secret? Well a good three mile walk and an hours training session meant that both dogs were pretty exhausted by the time they got to the test and a chance to sit or lie for a minute with the idiot handler stood 10 feet away shouting WAIT sternly seemed like an opportunity for a bit of a breather for T&M.

..... and there's more .... T&M, oh and TP and me too, have been invited to join a select group to give a Dog Training demonstration at the Summer Church Fayre in a local Market Town on Saturday.

Other stuff - I forgot to mention that the other bike was picked up on Monday and is having its carbs cleaned, new rubber and an MOT during the next week. TP is very keen on this as that bike has a pillion seat and he is now of the age where he can come out for a spin. He now has his eye on a set of Leathers that he has found on eBay.

-------------------------------------------

* Shame he didn't have either the looks or talent of George Best

Tired

I have, of late, not been sleeping well.

Now taking in to account that I am an early riser and am pretty busy at both work and home means that I am absolutely shattered. This is what doesn't make sense. Busy = tired. Tired = sleep. But not in my case at the present. I can get off to sleep reasonably well and tend to go to sleep at a civilised hour now I am in my middle years. 30% is more of an owl than me but even she like to be in bed well before the witching hour, especially on a school night.

The problem is that I am waking early, very early and end up lingering in an unsatisfying, unrewarding doze that gives no ease or respite from fatigue. I don't know what it is. I take plenty of exercise, T & M take care of that. I don't drink caffeinated coffee after 7 in the evening. I don't eat late at night.

I just want to sleep the sleep of the dead and wake at 7 - or 8.30 at the weekends - refreshed and ready for the day.

"Ah!" I hear you say "its your mattress". No its not. We have one of those fantastic Tempur type foam ones that mould to your body and is one of the most comfortable things I have ever slept on. We bought it a couple of years ago when I was was so fed up with the previous traditional mattress that, in true bad man style, 30% was dispatched to buy a new bed and mattress and not to come home without them. Now 30% loves a challenge - "Yes, and you're one of them" - THANK YOU 30%! and she did brilliantly. She cam home with a beautiful french oak number that she found in the sale a a local furniture emporium and a fancy new mattress was fully researched and ordered on-line.

It's great - but at the moment its not working. Perhaps my bed has lost its mojo. If that's the case I'll bet its bloody Marauder. That dog chews everything.

A couple of days back T&M were in the garden and M had decided she was bored and chewed the trailer light board plug off. You know, the thing that you plug in to the back of the Prius so that the lights on the trailer work. TP and I had only fixed the light board on to the trailer a couple of weeks before and now I have to get a new plug and wire it up.

But I digress. I do have a theory about beds. "I somehow thought you might" - quote 30% - or perhaps more of a question. Why don't they make beds the same way as they make sofas?

"What?" Why don't they make beds the same way as they make sofas? I have absolutely no problem falling asleep on a settee and when I wake up I feel fantastic. If you think about it it makes no sense. A sofa is nowhere near as spacious as a bed, has no duvet or pillows and generally involves a degree of contortion in order to enter the land of dreams but it works. An hour on the sofa equals at least three in a bed especially if they are stolen hours on a weekend afternoon.

I'll state with no fear of dissent that sofa's never loose their mojo and will always grant you the sleep of the gods. So why can't beds?

Hopping Cats

Sunday, the traditional day of rest. Where did I go wrong?

A leisurely breakfast in the garden and then we got our collective arses in to gear; 30% hit the ironing mountain while I finished priming the woodwork in the kitchen and broke out the emulsion for the ceiling.

TP skulked off and plugged himself in to the XBox.

That pretty much tied up the bulk of the day until 30% and I broke off and took Tyson and Marauder off for a walk. Early on 30% spotted a clump of wild horseradish among the docks and we made a mental note to harvest a root of it later in the year.

Back to the dogs, T & M are now 9 and 7 months old respectively and are doing pretty well with the Dog Training. The are actually up for their Kennel Club Bronze certificate next Tuesday but I think they have the proverbial "cats chance" of getting it. One of the tests is to "stay" in a single position for 60 seconds in a room full of other young dogs. That's like expecting a Chav to walk past a chip shop or coke can in the gutter.

I digress. what I was getting round to was the fact that T&M now run off the lead for most of the walk. Now this has made me nervous because I expect them to rush off and maul children as Staffies are prone to do.... I should remind you that they are not Staffies and neither do I have an Engerland Vest nor a tendency to walk around Community Housing Projects looking like I have tennis balls shoved under my armpits.

No, I'm nervous because thus far they have not really noticed the multitude of rabbits that are now hopping about in the hedgerows. T&M are retrievers of birds by their breeding and this shows. They fix on a bird as soon as it launches skyward and they are absolutely hysterical as they career around the hay fields trying to catch the swallows that circle just above the long grass  catching insects for their broods.

I was worried that they would approach rabbits with the same vigour and end up racing half way across the county or getting themselves caught up in a barbed wire fence.

As 30% and I walked along a rabbit popped out and ran down the line of the hedge, T & M ran off after it but it was all very half hearted and there was no frantic investigation off the point where the bunny entered the hedge. It was at that point that I had my Eureka moment.

It suddenly dawned on me that Eddy is a three legged, grey tabby with no tail. So a rabbit in the distance tends to look and probably more importantly move very much like Eddy. No wonder the dogs are not overly enthusiastic about chasing rabbits. You should see the aggression they get from Eddy when they have chased him in the past. They probably think that the rabbits are crazed psychotics with paws equipped with the latest in ninja claws. Let's hope, for their sake, that the dogs never find out the truth.

Hospital Food

Just Kidding.

30% took me over to Cheltenham this morning and by the time I got there I was somewhat tense. Not "wired" but it is fair to say tense.

We wandered in to the ward and there she was, sat by the bed in all her glory. She looked great, yellow paintwork gleaming. No fancy graphics or decals. Just yellow paint and subtle text advising that she is a Ducati, has 4 valves per cylinder and 996 cubic centimeters displacement.

Tim Hyett is the chap who had taken her from something looking like it had been a perch for chickens for the last 4 years to something that looked like it had just rolled out of the showroom.

We chatted and joked for a while, flexed the plastic and then 30% left and there was no more to say. Time to get on with it.

When you do something that you haven't done for a long time people say "its just like riding a bike". You never forget. As a threw a leg over the tail piece I hoped they were right. Press alarm fob to take it from Service Mode to alarm off, press choke button which gives a preset amount of throttle turn on the ignition and hear the fuel pump whirr, nudge the side stand so it springs up and press the starter button.

The sound is indescribable. I thought I could write a reasonable couple of paragraphs but I can't give you any idea of what a V-twin sound like through Termignoni race pipes. It rattles and thuds. It roars and growls. The best I can manage it to say "imagine that God race tuned his tractor" but that comes nowhere near.

After a couple of minutes the temperature gauge needle has lifted off the stop and there is no excuse not to move off. Clutch in, select first, a reasonable amount of throttle and slowly release the clutch......

..... and it all comes back to me. Not in a flood but slowly seeping back. The first few junctions are nervous episodes as the mirrors aren't quite right and I'm still adjusting to a bike that it very tall. remember Borrowers call me short arse.

She also has new tyres that haven't been scrubbed in yet so I know that I need to corner carefully for the first hundred miles or so.

By the time I get to the M5 I having a riot of a time the sound, the vibrations, the response. The motorway is not her natural habitat but neither is chugging through Cheltenham at lunchtime and in view of my lack of recent riding experience a straightforward route seemed the best. I had forgotten just how responsive she is and am cruising between 70 and 80 in 3rd or 4th gear. A gap appears and a slight twist of the throttle and she takes off like a scalded cat.

The final dozen miles are down a smooth twisty A road and by then it is definitely all coming back to me. By the time I get home I want to stop so I can revel but want to carry on too.

Reality kicks in and I turn in to the drive. She is not yet taxed and consequently I am only permitted to ride her directly back from a pre-arranged MOT. So it is straight to the DVLA website to flex the plastic further.

So now she sits sheeted in the garage. Connected to a Optimate to keep her battery at peak charge level.

Apologies if this is a bit Top Gear but don't worry. Tomorrow I'll give you my theory on why Tyson and Marauder don't really chase rabbits.

VE Day approaches.

What! That was weeks ago.

Yes, true but VE, in this instance, stands for Vespa Entertainment as I am reliably informed that she is ready for collection tomorrow. The Senior Consultant has rung and scared the living daylights out of my by saying that they couldn't issue a MOT certificate due a mismatch between the bike registration and the frame number.

After peeling me off the ceiling where I was hanging from the lamp frothing at the mouth thinking that I had a "ringer" he advised that this is quite common and he just needed me to fax over a copy of the registration document and they would be able to sort out the problem. Basically all down to bloody computers. Actually I have a strong suspicion that Dante's Nine Circles of Hell may actually be involved with the DVLA computer system. Curse Them.

He also advised that she looked absolutely beautiful and was in stunning condition for her age once all the crap and spiders' webs had been washed away. Obviously the members of the Arachnid Special Forces has been covering her with a protective web as a token of gratitude for me not hoovering them up or finding any other way to exterminate them.

How do I feel? To be honest this week has been very intense at work and it has distracted me from thinking about riding a bike that I haven't ridden for 4-5 years and is quite capable of speeds in excess of 160 mph.

How do I feel now the week is winding down and I have time to actually think about? Apprehensive in a good way sums it up.

Hopefully tomorrow's Blog will not be written from A&E.

Titfer

What?

Titfer, titfer tat - Hat.

I have a love / hate relationship with the rain. Watching it pour down from behind a window is fascinating. Stair rods driving down from the sky with no way of knowing when it will end. Watching the puddles start to form and merge and the transient torrents that race down the High Street.

However, being caught in it unprepared is my definition of misery. Its that sodden feeling as it soaks your head and starts to run down your face, inside your collar and down the back of your neck. Why is is that when you head gets wet you feel wetter than if any other part of your body gets soaked?

Have you ever seen those dreadful posters of soaked kittens with some crappy tag line such as "Days Cant Get Worse Than This" and so forth. I cant stand them but they do seem to create a fundamental emotional link because, I think, deep down we all hate getting wet. There is nothing more miserable than being soaked unless one has a huge warm towel immediately to hand as one steps from the bath or shower.

Digression - now there are a couple of "what type of person are you" indicators; Towels, fluffy or rough? and Bath or Shower?

Take yesterday as an example; after a couple of very intense days at work, when I have not had time to call the Pest Eradication Guy about the giant sock worm, I finally found the time to take Tyson and Marauder out for a good long walk. After the ritual of filling pockets with dog biscuits, "poo" bags, mobile phone  - in case of attack by Allosaurus - and a snack - in case I'm a bit peckish after the aformentioned dinosaur incident - and the attaching of leads to dogs I'm off.

Wait a minute. I walk out of the door and see a heavy grey sky so scuttle back in for my hat.

I don't bother with a coat, a fleece will suffice, but a wet head? No way! Where is my hat.

The hat of choice for dog walking in the rain is a Stetson that I bought a few years ago in the States. What a hat. Now before you think that I am walking round the lanes with some 10 Gallon Monster that would swamp Hoss Cartwright at the Ponderosa in Bonanza it is a subtle little number that is slightly larger than a British Trilby but what an absolute design classic.

It is light and warm but doesn't bake your head in Summer. It is shower proof, in fact, as proved yesterday, it can stand a bloody good downpour, it shades your eyes in bright sunlight and it is pretty tough although the hat band did need to be thrown away after the hat fell off the peg and Marauder decided to chew the band off. The hat survived otherwise unscathed and was back to normal after a quick dust off. It folds flat when travelling and will revert back to shape. This has been tested in a camera bag for a period of a couple of weeks.

I know it would not be to every body's taste but you can see why it is so good because its design has evolved over many years based on testing and use. Try a Beanie hat or a Baseball cap in the same conditions and they would be absolute pants. In fact worse than pants on your head.

So this entry is an homage to my hat and the fact that it kept my head dry when the Heavens opened yesterday and did their worst.

Incidentally, I'm getting used to the giant sock worm and he is a real pussy cat once you get to know him. I may ask 30% if I can keep him as a pet.

Sock worms.

Over the past couple of weeks I seem to have been suffering from an attack of sock worms.

For anyone lucky enough not to have encountered them they are the moles of the sock drawer. Basically virtually every pair I have selected to go with the outfit chosen for the day has a nasty thin patch that looks like it has been made from a fine net.

This is obviously an example of evolution in progress and I must get in touch with Richard Dawkins about this. When I was a child - "What do you mean, WHEN?" quote 30% - the sock worms used to gnaw large holes in socks usually in the heel or toe area. They were obviously gaining nourishment from the sock and possibly using some of the sock fluff for nesting material. Nowadays the species of sock worm that have infested my sock draw seem to graze over the ball of the foot areas leaving a thin area that is not a hole but is definitely not a sock.

This is either evolution or a species new to science. What concerns me is that, like most people, my sock drawer is in close proximity to my underwear draw and the effects of sock worms grazing on my magic pants could be catastrophic. Imagine the possible results. I could climb the stairs and find some colossal annelid that looks like it belongs in Star Wars - remember, the one that lived in the asteroid and nearly ate the Millennium Falcon - or Frank Herbert's Dune thrashing around on the landing with the most fearsome jaws dripping ooze on to the rug.

This is obviously not a scenario I want to walk in to because I have quite a lot of work on at the moment and really don't need to have to be Googling giant worm pest eradication and then waiting ages for the man to come round because "its that time of year" and "You wouldn't believe how common a problem these are nowadays".

So, appropriate measures have been taken. Any socks showing signs of infestation have been removed from the drawer and have been incinerated in a device formerly used for dealing with biohazardous materials thrown away. The chest of drawers has been professionally fumigated.- "About time too" quote 30%- and a friend of a friend has advised us to use lavender. For the Love of God! I want them dead, not smelling nice and think that DDT would be more appropriate.

30% came home via the supermarket and presented me with a bundle of Leisure Socks. "I saw these and thought of you" she said with an ironic expression that clearly meant that she felt the term leisure was most appropriate.

Now, I have never seen a "made outside the EEC" persons foot but I know that foot binding has been illegal for may years so I am pretty sure that "made outside the EEC" feet look very much like any other human feet on the planet. Why, then, is a "made outside the EEC" sock shaped like a baggy, fluffy tube with a slight bend about half way along its length? Also, WAKE UP - One size does not fit all. If you make socks that are size 6-11 you are fine if you have giant clod hopper feet but if you foot is diminutive you are going to end up with a load of surplus sock bunched up at the end of your shoes.

You put the dreadful things on, walk around for about 30 seconds and the bloody things seem to rotate around their longitudinal axis so that the pseudo heel sits on top of your foot making them irritating at best and damned uncomfortable if you are wearing shoes.

After the attack of the sock worm and the failed trial of "made outside the EEC" leisure socks  I took a trip to a reliable supplier of Gentleman's apparel and found that it is still possible to buy socks that are the same size and shape as my feet. If you lay them out they are foot shaped. They have heels and toes and come in a range of sizes that they fit inside shoes.

I see from the news yesterday that Sir Terry Leahy is leaving Tesco. Obviously my letter of complaint about the socks had the impact I had hoped for. I shall expect the new Guy to fall on his sword if I ever buy a corked bottle of wine.

If it goes off this could be messy

Today sees me back at work after a week off.

Unfortunately the world hasn't undergone a quantum shift in the past 7 days and stupidity still reigns supreme in the dimensions I inhabit. Still, never mind, the "optimeter" is giving quite a good reading.

Optimeter - Definition, noun . A wine glass shaped device that is filled with a red or straw coloured liquid. By observing the level of the liquid in the container one can determine how the day has gone; well or badly. Paradoxically, sometimes the lower the level, the better the day went.

I have had a call from the Vespa's Senior Consultant to say that she will be discharged next weekend. I have also had some news about the possibility of journeying through a different Circle of Hell at Dante's all of which lead me to think that today is going slightly better than expected.

Eddy has decided to climb on to my lap and give me his own peculiar brand of feline Shiatsu Massage as today is the first day in a week that I have sat in front of a PC for any great length of time, This is all quite charming but Tyson has noticed and, being the possessive type, has put her paws on my lap and her nose millimeters away from Eddy.

This is a "Do I cut the red wire or the blue wire?" moment.

It's not Tyson that is the concern it is Eddy. Since he had his fight with the bear he has a strong sense of his own mortality - or should that be fel ality? I hold my breath as Eddy weighs up Tyson's threat rating. Am I about to have a three legged cat go off in my lap? Basically the table and laptop are going to direct that explosive force right in to my groin, chest and face.I estimate that the explosion is definitely going to be equivalent to having a quantum marmoset reach critical mass.

After tense seconds that feel like eons Eddy slips away under the table and a sense of calm is restored.