Category: Terminally boring

Unnatural Selection

I was in the supermarket the other day buying toothpaste, it’s not something I do very often, it’s not that I don’t use much, I probably would consider myself an average user, but toothpaste is one of those things that is always there. The tube can always be found, even on the bleariest of mornings waiting on its shelf, and when it gets to the point where mechanical devices are needed to extract the last helping, another fresh tube can be found in the second drawer down. Toothpaste is clearly the responsibility of someone else, someone organized, in this household it falls in the same category as clean laundry, some is always available when needed.
Continue reading “Unnatural Selection”

Transitions

I woke up early on my second full day in Korea. My old friend had arranged for me to be guided through Seoul by two of her old friends, both Korean men in their mid-20s. One, like me, is a Korean history graduate student. The other holds a degree in kinesiology and is a certified swim-instructor. Due to my inability to read signs clearly written in the Roman alphabet I was 15 minutes behind schedule, having travelled north instead of south and only realising it 4 stops later.

After a few hours of discussions on topics ranging from Korean history to the universal commonalities of prehistoric implements we went to have lunch. For those who do not know, I am quite fond of Korean food. Nabchae bokum, octopus in a red chilli sauce, is my absolute favourite dish.  The two called around to find the best restaurant serving that and my favourite new alcoholic beverage, makgeolli. The Nabchae bokum really was excellent, and fresh. After receiving the order the cook went to the octopus tank and took out three mid-sized and lively octopi killing and cleaning it just before chopping it up to cook with the sauce and spring onions. The lunch was incredible. It’s difficult to describe the sensation one gets from eating a fresh, properly-prepared Korean meal. Whatever it is, it is magical. They refused to let me pay, or even contribute. My attempt was met with insulted looks and a brusque refusal. Continue reading “Transitions”

The Pogey

This post was initiated as a result of a recent one by Araminta commenting on the use (or misuse)  by Tesco of a “back to work” program in Britain.  It reflects only one person’s experience of the system  employed here and I make no claim that such system is more effective than those used elsewhere, however it is different.

 

The Pogey

 

The Pogey, the Dole, or as my old dad used to say the Parish.  “If you don’t watch out son you’ll be on the Parish” that’s how old he was, and back then that’s who supported you, if anyone did, the charity of the parish.

I was on the parish once, in the US, it was 1998, I was 54 and it was the middle of winter.   The company I had been working for since 1984 declared bankruptcy, just like that, in February.  The whole operation, about two hundred people, was closed down and a trustee brought in to liquidate the assets. There was no severance pay or golden, silver, tin or lead handshakes, no pensions or settlements just pay-to-date and goodbye. Continue reading “The Pogey”

Call me Charlton Heston

A hysterical female voice was on the end of the telephone line that, because of her high-pitched alarmed tone, I couldn’t make out who it was. I passed the receiver over to my wife to see if she could decipher the caller’s problem.

I miss the old original phones. The ones with the huge round dialling face. It was an effort trying to ring an 8 or a 9 number on one of those cumbersome machines. Your pointer would trail round the track with a NASCAR’s differential until it reached the end of the line. Then you let go and the wheel spun back. Pure bliss. Continue reading “Call me Charlton Heston”

Marking Time – January 2012 CW Comp.

Marking Time

Len Larcombe, teacher of Chemistry and fifth form master sat at a small desk in the staff room of the provincial public school. It was the spring of 1928 and Larcombe was almost forty years old, ten years before he had been a captain of artillery and ten before that an amateur boxer of some note. His service in the war and in the ring had left him somewhat deaf in both of his large somewhat battered ears. He settled himself into the wooden chair and lit his pipe, pushing the glowing embers deep into the bowl with a calloused and nicotine stained forefinger.

Continue reading “Marking Time – January 2012 CW Comp.”

Sign of the Times?

Back in the late summer the Creekers met and decided to pave our access road. It had once been maintained by the County but about ten years ago they decided the last half mile or so was not theirs and abandoned it to its fate. Several of us appealed the abandonment, pointing out that the road had been regularly plowed during the winter and the local school bus used it when there were schoolkids to be hauled. “Nope” they said “If we did that it was a mistake, it’s not ours and we don’t want it”. The road had never really been paved, it was made by spraying tar and rolling fine gravel into the surface repeatedly over the years and twenty years of unmaintained use had almost destroyed the lot.

We got some estimates from several local paving outfits and decided on who would do the job. Not a cheap process building roads, they all proposed stripping the surface completely and relaying the lot in two three inch layers of hot rolled tarmacadam.

Continue reading “Sign of the Times?”

245 Not Out

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Hard to believe that this is my 245th post here on The Chariot, must be, WordPress kept encouraging me to reach the land mark and what better day to write a non-post then today, probably our quietest day of the year.

Presents opened this morning, I didn’t get a snowplough, I want one next year, First Mate at the Creek got one, I think it’s a cool gift. I bet none of my neighbours have one!

We had our Christmas meal in the afternoon, what do you call that? I know that a mid-morning meal is called brunch (being a cross between breakfast and lunch) but what about mid-afternoon, luper? (Lunch and supper.) I prefer it with one ‘p’ sounds more like super which it was.

245 not out, sounds like a cricket blog doesn’t it? Well it isn’t, it’s actually about nothing, just my late afternoon thoughts, it could be about cricket though. Two tests starting tomorrow. First the Aussies at 01:30 my time (23:30 gmt today) followed almost immediately by The Proteas at 10:00 my time (08:00gmt.)

The Aussies at the MCG are fielding an eleven with more new caps (well at least one) against the mighty Indians who surprisingly are only no.2 in the test rankings behind England. (Actually now that I think about it I’m not surprised at all.) Continue reading “245 Not Out”

Smoking – does the Nanny state have a point?

Firstly, I shall declare myself as an ex-smoker, I gave up 5 years ago give or take having smoked for 20 on and off. I’m no anti-smoker like some, but I don’t like the smell indoors any more and am quite happy not to smoke. I still love the smell of a cigar though, and occasionally I still get a craving. I’m happy for people to smoke if they want. I have the choice to move away.

Anyway, this article (linky thing) is the second story in the press this month about smoking, and I thought it worthy of debate. The first story was regarding the BMA in the UK suggesting the government should ban smoking in cars to protect children. Continue reading “Smoking – does the Nanny state have a point?”

They shoot banthas, don’t they?

 In the history of ridiculous things we might just have topped the lot with this one. As ever, probably it will be another unfulfilled ambition. Sometimes though, the planning is better than the actual event. Timing is everything and if myself and three friends can coordinate work and family commitments we are going to watch the six Star Wars films in the one sitting. One after the other after the other…

Originally George Lucas wanted to make nine films and it’s any one’s guess what order he would have made the other trilogy. Would the next instalments be films 7, 8 and 9 or minus 1, 2 and 3? As it stands at the moment, six it is. Continue reading “They shoot banthas, don’t they?”