Rain

It’s been raining recently. Not just any old rain, but proper rain. What the Hong Kong Chinese would call “Ho-Dai-Yurt” – Very-Big-Rain.

I’ve talked about rain before in a previous blog. But hey, this is England, it’s likely that we get more rain than not (and there is research to evidence this), so it’s just as likely rain is going to get mentioned again.

Oh, and let’s not forget that we are masters of talking about the weather. Why stand against the tide?

The Met Office (those of the weather forecasting magic circle), have stated on their website that the rainfall has placed December 2015 as the second wettest in UK, on record. Not only that, they are arguing that December was the warmest – the sort of temperatures you would find in April/May.

So it seems then, that the weather is almost reversed. After all, are we not experiencing winter frosts, snow, sleet and other climate phenomenon that usually happen in December? At least, when I’m cycling, that’s what I’m experiencing.

Now I’m not going to point the finger at Global Warming (although I’m not opposed to the idea), it’s just that it is a little odd. The accepted wisdom is that, as Global Warming kicks in, the planet will warm up, the ice caps will melt (as is already happening), and the whole shebang will mean a different living experience for future generations. The joke is that at least UK will be warmer.

But I’m not so sure.

If one considers the Gulf Stream, a different viewpoint might ensue.

My understanding is that the Gulf Stream is Nature’s warming engine; that it brings warm currents (and air) to the Northern Hemisphere that prevents UK from freezing over in winter. Well it certainly worked this year.

The trouble is, as ice caps melt, the sea level rises; which in turn, changes the flow-rate of the Gulf Stream. Indeed, there are reports now that scientists have notice this decline in flow-rate. How is this important?

Now picture this, if you will: assuming the planet gets warmer, on average; then assuming this impacts on the Gulf Stream flow-rate by stopping it completely (or slowing it down to inconsequential levels); then there is no more warming in the winters in the UK. Well, we’ll freeze.

In not a conspiracist, but don’t you think it’s interesting how there’s been a real drive to get houses in this country insulated and warm, with reduced energy spend? It’s like they know something they’re not telling.

For me though, this has other disadvantages. I’ve mentioned before, cycling to work in all weathers. All the same, cycling with snow on the ground is not my cup of tea. And I‘m concerned that Betty won’t get as much exercise as she should if this happens.

It’s not much, in the grand scheme of things, but I’m doing my bit to reduce GW – by using my car only about two times per week.

Share the love peeps and let’s get more of those cars off the road.

Half-Hour Holidays

I’m on holiday. You might say that I’m pre-empting Monday’s treat. But I’m not.

I’m on holiday, but I still need to go to work (some holiday, you might say).

It sort of works like this; I like train journeys. I like to sit and relax on a train journey. I like to think that my train journey from home (and back) is a short half-hour holiday. And I’m currently travelling on a train; to work...

On holiday.

By my calculations that means that I get two holidays each day, fourteen holidays per week, fifty-six holidays a month, and over six-hundred holidays per year (give or take a few).

I like holidays.

We’ve recently had a new back (front) door fitted. With some windows. I call it a back door, but it is really a front door. It’s all made a significant difference to to warmth of the west-side of the house. I wish we’d had them fitted before the winter (although it has felt like winter these last few days). Sometimes, we never learn.

I like this new door. It has prompted a new routine to leaving and returning home – going around the back (remember those days?). I like this routine, because it has the feel of entering a holiday home.

I mentioned this to Wifelette this morning, over breakfast. She suggested that this was because the door looks like a caravan door. I took umbrage. I like that door. I don’t think it looks like a caravan door. A chalet door, maybe; but most definitely not a caravan door. You decide... 

It’s funny, because I had that ‘returning home to a holiday’ feeling for pretty much two years after we moved in to our little village. We wanted to move to the area, but had no real intention to move to the village (for all sorts of reasons, which might be shared at a later date). However, I have realised that often God has other plans. To cut a long story short (which is not like me, at all!!) we moved to our village. Into the house before this one.

The account of this adventure is best left for another day, but two things I do remember: It snowed that morning and; the local chip shop gave us a welcoming present, by way of a large bottle of Coke with our chips. We still go there for our fish supper.

I’m now at the end of my train journey and, consequently, at the end of the holiday for this morning. Today, though, I have to walk to work; I’m working late with colleagues, who will accompany me to the station on the way home. There might also be a pub involved on the way, so I took the decision to walk.

Missing Betty already.

Frogs and Pigs

I’m not entire sure how the conversation emerged, but I was in our local, friendly charity shop (did I mention we’re having a clear-out?) and the subject of dependents going off to university came up. And with it, the conversation of clearing out the stuff, after they’ve gone to university, was discussed.

Currently, I have one in this situation. My daughter. At Bristol.

Back in the charity shop, it transpired that a collection of pigs and a collection of frogs had recently been disposed of.  It seems to be a recent, current phenomenon, that parents all around the district are disposing of the remains of the previous life of the university student. Which, to my mind, is a shame.

I mentioned yesterday some of the memories that the discovery of ‘forgotten’ items evoked. And I’m sure we all have tales to tell about this one. It’s almost as if these items are a memory battery; ready to discharge their load at the right time and the right place, with the right connections.

I’ve not been a collector of anything really. I had a brief flirtation at football cards when I was younger, but nothing more serious than a half-dozen swapsies in my pocket. So I’ve not really seen the attraction.

For my late mother, it was teapots. And I always think of her when we use the large pewter one  (which we kept) at gatherings.

I think, though, there’s a sequence of events that happens with these type of collections. It all starts innocently with a few items of similarity (for the sake of argument, let’s say cuddly panda bears). Then somebody in the family might notice that one has more than three of these panda bears and thinks this is what one is ‘into’; so they get another one for the collection. One is too polite to dispose of this addition and it joins the others in the display. Then another one is added. Then another. And soon enough, there is a whole collection of similar themed artefacts that can be termed a collection. So now one is labelled as a collector, and the cycle continues.

One interesting point about this phenomenon is that the ‘collector’ can likely name who/where/when the item is associated. (To be fair, I’ve also experienced this. When putting a log on the Rayburn, I’m pretty confident I can tell you how I acquired this bole. And there is a tale to tell about each piece of wood burning.)

But there comes a time (maybe during that university transition period) when the collection is tired and not so appealing. My view is, if it is possible, to store them. In the loft. Because in twenty years’ time, they’ll be retrieved, and the memories they evoke might well be worth remembering.

Of course they might have been encouraged by the owners to dispose of these collections. Which, in this case, is fair do’s. But for me, I’d rather have a memory battery. It just might make getting older a little more bearable.

Memories

One of the pleasures of moving, or at least packing up to move, is the element of discovery. Finding things that you’d forgotten you’d had (and putting them back into their proper place), finding things you thought you had and subsequently replaced (put them in the ‘EBay’ bucket), and finding things that jog the memory.

I found my old Filofax – remember them? It was an odd find. Not because it was a discovery, but because the discovery element was in looking through all those old addresses and phone numbers and pondering ‘Where are they now?”

Some I know about (thanks to Facebook). Some I don’t. What was interesting was the memories these names evoked. In a former life, I worked at Rover Car factory. I started in the October of 1980 on the car wash and ended up as a Senior Engineer in the Homologation department (carrying out crash tests and the like on the cars to prove them for market). Some of the contacts in the book were from this period. Bill Coleman was one.

Bill was a proud Yorkshire man, so there’s sufficient in that statement to warrant no further explanation of his character. However, I think he had a soft spot for me and recognised someone who had come through the ranks to get where I was, rather than have it handed to me on a plate via some graduate scheme. Not that I’m against these, it’s just that it is a different experience, having been there and worked the job that we inform.

I liked Bill. He was a no-nonsense type of guy, who you could rely on to tell you how it is. I think as a society we’ve lost that skill. Brutal, but gentle honesty. I learned a lot from Bill; much of it to do with Star Trek and the technologies that were emerging because of the show (I wonder what he makes of the iPhone, and all that). It was a good time for me, that I look back with fondness. Still that was then…

Another find was an envelope of gig stubs. You know, those bits of paper that were left over from entering a gig. Again good times. I remember going with a mate to the La Dolce Vita club in the City Centre to watch Depeche Mode (If anyone is interested, there's and alternative music exhibition in Parkside, BCU during May). And I remember Blancmange being the support group. The thing about this memory is not the gig itself, but the fact that I spent an hour with Neil Arthur – the singer – talking philosophy, religion, and all manner of stuff. Looking back, I must have come across as pretty boring (and likely arrogant), but the memory lingers. (as a side note, there was a year when we sat next to Depeche Mode at Greenbelt).

The other concerts I have fond memories of are U2 at the ODEON New Street. It was the War tour and supporting them were The Alarm. Later we went to see the Alarm in their own right, on tour. Supporting them were A Flock of Seaguls. Perhaps the oddest experience from those days was the Psychedelic Furs gig. The performance itself was fine. What was odd was the bloke who came and sat right next to me and my friend, when all around there were empty seats. The exotic aroma that emanated from his corner of the room suggested that he was appreciating this gig differently from the way we were. We were too polite to say anything, and in too much of a good viewing position to move. I was glad when that one ended and we could get into the cold, fresh winter air.

Those gig stubs though? I shall have to mount them in picture frames. You never know, they could be worth a fortune one day.

Delays Abound

I was late today. Late to work, late home and late writing this blog.

This morning was a fruitful meeting between our builder and our architect. Lots of things discussed, lots of conclusions and lots more questions to answer – I guess that’s often the way. Still, I think we all went away positive. But it meant that my departure time was later than usual.

This delay in my usual commute meant that I was behind schedule going in – it was after lunch. No real issues though, as I was early enough to ‘deliver’ my tutorial. Just as well, it was presentation time (for them, not me).

This, as it turns out, meant that I was delayed in writing this blog. (I must confess: there are occasions when I try and get ahead of the game – a little trick I learned working in radio – by writing a blog entry early). But today, dear friends, no dice (and of course if I had, I wouldn’t be writing about all the delays I had today – sort of ironic, don’t you think?)

So on 25th April 2016, the blog is delayed. But you’ll not know that. Because I always post the blog for each day at a specific time (8am GMT).

It seems, moreover, that today is the day for delays. The tutorial session ended late (it’s assignment time) which had the knock-on effect of me leaving work late. I get to the platform in time for the 19:02 and, you guessed it, it arrived at 19:12...Late.

In an effort to catch up on these delays, I was going to be lazy and not fold Betty – you know, like the old days when I had a more conventional bike, just locate the folding seat area at the end of the second carriage, and lean the bike in there (although I think I’ll still use the bungee trick) remove the bike at destination and off...

But alas, the train schedule was as tardy as mine, and as I waited, so did others, and more others, and more others until the platform was bulging (or it would have been, were we sardines in a tin).

As it happens, I baulked, folded Betty, and took up my usual spot on the platform ready for the mad boarding activity that ensues during rush-hour. Maybe I’ll have a go next week.

Still, there is a silver lining – my dinner was early (or so I’ve been told via a text from the missus). The more I think about it, early retirement is an attractive prospect – even if it is a) quite a number of years away (see what I did there?) and; b) reduce my involvement with commuting, which reduces any blogs that I might write, here. It's not often I get to write fewer blog entries.

Which reminds me. Next Monday is a Bank Holiday – woohoo! I know you’re gonna miss me.

That not-folding routine I mentioned? It’ll have to wait…