How To Make A Video

I envy the Arctic Monkeys because they are so effortlessly talented, and have yet to put a foot wrong.

The Canteen Is Another Country, They Do Things Differently There

The canteen facility at work has never been the best, and has often managed to achieve the worst on numerous occasions.

Staffing has often been the issue, particularly when they draft in someone at short notice, on the sole qualification that they are actually available. Such personnel, by default from the third world, are usually disadvantaged by their lack of English, and particularly when they have no familiarity with British Food (although I concede that even the most practiced native would struggle to recognise the fayre presented on some days).

I once addressed this issue in a team meeting where I related my plight, concerning the time when my request for peas resulted in a generous dollop of baked beans. "No!" I protested; "PEAS!" pointing to the appropriate vegetable. In response, my adversary pointed to the beans and exclaimed; "Yes Peas!"

"That's nothing," responded a colleague, "I asked for gravy, and he put custard on me roast!"

For a while, it looked like those days had passed, and even the fruit salad improved over the previous green apple / red apple in orange juice offering, but, alas, not for long.

This lunchtime, I have just waited in a enormous queue, only to discover that the delay was arising from the cashier's total unfamiliarity with sterling currency. Yes, a cashier with no idea of what the coinage represents, as befuddled as a tourist on their first day in Ulan Bator.

When he short-changed me, it wasn't out of perfidy, he was simply unaware of which bits of the round metal pieces that were due to me.

I say bring back Slutty Rose; what she lacked in virtue and underwear, she more than made up with numeracy!

I'll be making my own sandwiches tomorrow.

The Past Is Another Country

And Nick Hornby's An Education looks like a foreign film.

C'est tres chic!

Probably his masterpiece. An evocation of a time before corporate globalism swamped us all.

There is also sufficient evidence in recent years to indicate that the British are learning to make films worth watching.

Hoorah!

Dunned By The Tongs!

I have just been passed in the street by a man of Chinese appearance who walked the lengths of the road WITH HIS ARMS FOLDED!

And I don't mean that he stopped to admire something for a while, maybe an architectural gem, a flower, or a blue plaque, and then forgot to unfold his arms on continuing his walk.

He clearly walked the length of the road with his arms folded, as though he'd been cornered by a bunch of ruffian tailors who had corned him, pinned him down and sadistically sewn each cuff to the opposite elbow.

Maybe this happened in Hong Kong, where the hapless victim, on collecting his 24 hour suit had attempted to bargain down the price by fabricating some form of greivance, like saying the vents weren't deep enough.

Disgruntled, the cruel couturiers had taken umbrage, ganged-up, performed a "stitching", before bundling the punter into a Heathrow-bound container, confident that the distant (and bemused) baggage-handlers would incompetently misdirect him into London's West End where he would be doomed to wander the streets in a state of confusion with a defensive body-language posture.

Yes, now I've thought it through, I'm sure that that answers all the questions.

Yes, that's definately what happened.

Phew!

Overheard

I've just witnessed a wonderful "Dora Bryan" moment in the staff kitchen.

Chap 1 "How's the new job?"

Chap 2 "Yeh, great, thanks!"

Chap 1 " Did they fill your 'ole?"

Chap 2 -Unsure what he had just heard- "Pardon??"

Chap 1 "Did they fill your ROLE?"

Chap 2 -somewhat relieved- "Err, yes."

Hack Space

Fancy mending things with a soldering iron?

Remember when we didn't throw things away?

Like to hear things hum as the warm up for use?

Check out Hack Space

Everything is OK

Again thanks to Greg at Arctic Ghetto

Nostalgia; The Ache From An Old Wound

On manly duties after work last night, I left work in pursuit of jump leads, as our VW seems to have a flat battery.

Rather than surrender my money to the capitalist running dogs of the high street chain, I elected to procure my wares from the small-world tories in the long-standing motor factors just round the corner from my old flat.

Imagine the horror as I passed number 123 and saw the addition of shiny new UPVC where my beautiful old sash windows once were.

My partner and I spent HOURS taking those windows out; stripping, repairing, filling and painting/varnishing them, before rehanging them newly weighted to adjust for the lighter modern glass panes that we had installed. You could lift and close them with one finger, such was the expertise of the work.

It was a huge achievement, and probably the refurbishment we were most proud of.

The sight of the UPVC struck me like a rusty blunt dagger through the heart.

Bugger them!