Grandad October 17th, 2006
For years now, I have become used to the phenomenon of occasionally coming across “temporary traffic lights” which have been placed each side of some bit of road works. You know the ones. They stay red for about five minutes so that you can read a book or admire the workmen having their teabreak, and then they change green [the lights, not the workmen] just about long enough to get in gear before changing red again.
I used to come across these a few times a year.
Now, suddenly they are everywhere. I did one shortish journey recently and had to go through eight sets. It was handy as I was able to catch up on my reading. Got through quite a few chapters on that one journey. I have found one road out of my area that is still light free, but I suppose it is only a matter of time…
I wrote to the local County Council to thank them for the lights, saying that it was nice to be able to relax for a five minute break every couple of miles. They obviously appreciated this, as they promptly gave me my own set. No kidding! Two days later, they errected temporary traffic lights each side of the entrance to my house and started digging holes. Now that is service.
The only problem is that I can’t leave my house now, so my reading is falling behind.
Grandad October 16th, 2006
A nice little item on the news today. Apparently Sellafield has been leaking again.
British Nuclear Fuels has been fined £500,000 for breaches of safety. Wow! That’ll worry them. A whole five minutes profits gone down the drain.
But the thing is, they were fined because they failed to stop a leak. And this leak had been there for months. How come they never noticed? Where are their safety precautions when you need them? The Boss was asked about this and he said that it was only a “tiny leak” and had only become serious a few weeks before they noticed. But it still took them a few weeks to notice a serious leak! This is from the company that is constantly telling us that it is one of the safest nuclear facilities in the world. 83,000 litres of radioactive fluid swilling around and noone noticed? Bloody hell!!
A challenge to the British Government – if BNF are so damn safe, why not move them to the heart of London?
Grandad October 13th, 2006
I got a postcard today. That was nice. It means someone cares.
However, this postcard was from the ESB. They would like to inform me that they are cutting off my power in a couple of weeks time. No. I have paid my bills. They are cutting me off for a day. From 9am to 6pm. Something to do with connecting people.
This fills me with dread. They have done this before and it is not nice. It’s amazing how much I rely on electricity for the simple pleasures in life like heat or a simple cup of tea. It’s amazing how long a day is when you can’t have a cuppa.
My theory is that time is relative, but is determined by how much power you have. Actually, I would like to have a word with Einstein about this but he isn’t around. A normal 9 to 6 day here lasts approximately 9 hours [give or take]. However, without power I swear it lasts over 24 hours. Maybe industry should take note of this – cut off power to the factory floor and get an extra 15 hours work from the labourforce. Of course this would stop the machinery as well but I’m sure they could find a way around that. Treadmills?
In the meantime, what am I going to do on THE day? In the old days, I would have gone to the nearest pub and gotten ratarsed. But I’m too old for that now. And I would have to spend the entire time outside because the Health Police have decided that I’m a hazard to the workforce [doubtless I'll have a comment or two in the future about smoking laws!].
If the weather is nice, I might go for a walk. But that won’t take too long. I might do a bit of gardening if the weather is nice [but it never is on the day of a powercut]. I might visit my daughter, but she has her own life to lead.
Anyone got a spare generator?????
Grandad October 5th, 2006
My neighbours have a wasps nest in their roof. It’s been there for two or three years now. They [the neighbours] don’t seem to mind, and that’s their business.
But every now and then, the wasps get it into their little brains to have a mass suicide. Maybe it’s a cult thing. I dunno. The problem is that they choose my bathroom for their final demise. I get up in the middle of the night to do those things that people have to do in the middle of the night and find myself standing, half asleep surrounded by hundreds of dead and dying wasps. This is not very pleasent, standing there in bare feet [and not much else covered either] surrounded by these little buggers all swarming around and crawling around the floor, walls and ceiling.
Of course these leads to a problem. I have gone to the bathroom for a purpose – a purpose that that only the bathroom can satisfy. Do I dare crunch across the carpet of crawling stingers in my bare feet? Or do I cross my legs and sweat? Not a decision that is easy especially since I am still half asleep.
But I am exaggerating, I hear you say. The first time it happened, I emptied a can of insect spray into the bathroom and then slammed the door. Half an hour later, I went in and filled four dustpans with bodies. Yes – four dustpans. Hundreds of ‘em. Talk about a mass funeral.
My problem though is why my bathroom? Why not choose a room in my neighbours house? It’s their nest after all. And how do they get in? The window is closed, and I have sealed up every other possible point of entry.
There was another suicide ceremony this morning. It started with a scream from Herself. I went in to see why she was screaming [as one does] and there they were again. Not too many. Maybe a dozen or so. I wish they would go and die somewhere else…..
Grandad October 3rd, 2006
I took a ferry to France recently. Aha, thinks I – Duty Free!!
Went into the duty free shop and had a look around for pipe tobacco. They used to sell this in cartons of five packs [and each pack was 50gms compared to the normal 25].
No tobacco. So I went up to the checkout, and there it was – lovely 50gm packs of pipe tobacco on a shelf.
“Give us ten packs of baccy” says I to the girl. “Sorry” says she, “but I can only sell you two”. “What?” says I thinking the old hearing was failing [again]. “We can only sell two items of tobacco or cigarettes at a time” says she. “OK” says I, “Gimme two packs”. She gave me the packs, I gave her my credit card. All happy. “Anything else?” says she. “Yes please, gimme two packs of baccy” She was happy with this and we went through the whole process again. This happend a couple more times, by which time a nice queue had built up!
But what is the reasoning here? What was the point? I got what I wanted, but at cost to the people waiting behind me. They had no objection to the amount I bought, as long as I bought them two at a time. This must be one of the craziest rules I’ve heard of in a while.
Subscribe to audio
