Xmas greetings and Felicitations

Here we go then, heading into the final part of the year and ready to embrace the New year with renewed zeal and vigour. Allegedly. Its been a weird old year for me, with rushes of inspiration to write and then complete apathy to follow on. I promise to try harder next year as I need the practice if I'm ever going to be at a level to pen that first novel, that first play, that first TV series ro that first football match report for a Fleet Street organ. Or maybe my first blogs after becoming the breakfast show presenter on Planet Rock. Or launching my own radio station.

One can but dream. Don't laugh, every one of those features on the plan. Which will be a masterpiece when completed. Lets hope I don't need it. Or that if I do it does what I hope it will do.


So, how to sum up this year in Grocerjacks life? Odd might be a good word. Eventful would be another. Peaceful and tranquil however, do not fit the bill.

I suppose the first big thing to affect me was tearing an intercostal muscle in a coughing fit one night. I have never known such excruciating pain ....a pain that has still not fully gone. I, being a good drama queen, thought it was a heart attack but was soon bought back down to earth by Hellsbells. No golf for nearly 3 months due to the incapacitating nature of the injury meant that for a while even my notorious grumpiness which lets me be President of the GoGB was pushed to the point of permanent rage. Then we had the interminable madness within The Company of re-orgs gone wrong, good people thrown out, monkey brained clowns promoted and me with a tub thumping bible bashing boss. Me, an atheist and all. But despite our theological differences she was very good and very kind. Religious nut, maybe, but she made me feel good again after the trauma of watching friends get walked off site. I actually gained strength from her, which doesn't fit easily but maybne her faith in me rubbed off. Next was the bombshell news that Hellsbells had found a lump. Yep, that sort of lump. A visit to the Doctors confirmed that even he thought it was not a good lump. Hellsbells had to wait two months for a visit to the hospital for all the relevant tests, which happily came out as negative and the lump was something else altogether and totally harmless. During that time tensions rose and she battled on stoically with just the odd lapse into crumpled heap. I was in Spain when she got the good news. We partied as hard on the Iberian coast that night as they did on the sunny South Coast of Britain.It's weird how everyone automatically assumes the worst case scenario. Maybe its human nature or maybe these days we just like to know what we're up against and as such we opt for the path of pessimism to prepare ourselves for the worst.

In August, after 2 long years I finally had the orthodontic appliances that I had fitted top and bottom removed. two long years of humiliation and physical pain had come to an end. No more mouth ulcers or wire lacerations. No more headaches as jawbones and teeth were pulled under mechanical force into new unfamiliar positions. No more smiling through closed lips and no more wondering what people thought when they saw an array of metal lining the teeth like a row of metallic robot guards. The result was damn near perfect and despite the slight flossing obsession I seem to have gained it was £4000 well spent. I smile more these days, despite what people might think. What was interesting was just how many people I know who never noticed. Hellsbells took 2 hours or more to notice, not even seeing the broad grin when collecting me at Montpellier Airport. Pie never noticed until the same time as Hellsbells, and then claimed we was still so young she couldn't remember me without braces before. She's 13 and a half the cheeky cow. Kid had to be told eventually but hey, no-one does archetypal insular teenager quite so well. And to be fair she was rather anxiously anticipating her GCSE results. She passed all 9. MiddleSis, whose transformation using cosmetic laminates was my inspiration, noticed after 15 seconds. I guess people with new teeth notice others new teeth far more quickly. LittleSis new up front as she was taking me to the orthodontists. Lucky, who works in my team also noticed immediately, but then she had 2 years of the same thing when she was younger. No-one else in the team noticed. So, the lesson is no-one really takes that much notice of how you look, no matter how paranoid you are.

After a glorious relaxing holiday at The Money Pit it was back to work in September and the brush with death we had with Monsieur French Fuckwit Lorry Driver. To this day I can honestly say it was the most terrifiyng event of my life. Far more terrifying than my motorbike crash in 1992 which gave me a 5 week stay in a state run hotel. Or hospitals as they're called. This time no hospital was needed but I still wonder how the least likely outcome became the actual outcome. If I wasn't an atheist then I'd think it was a test of my ......faith?

In October another week at The Money Pit on my own got off to a bad start with a 6 hour delay on the ferry crossing, foul sailing and driving weather and a 657 mile journey the length of France on my own in a right hand drive car with a broken rear view mirror! All this to revise for an (important) exam. and to close the Money Pit down for the winter. The revision spolied the week away for me but a rare game of golf was enjoyed but underlining that all was not well from the accident. Luckily I had been persuaded into a compensation claim but my neck, shoulders, lower back and left ankle have defiinitely suffered due to the impact and forces at play during the accident. The weather was good and all I wanted to do was laze about and sightsee, but I had to stick my head into books to revise all the stale stuff I'd read already.It was hateful and the more I read the more I resented this waste of a holiday.

Was it worth it? On December the 9th, my email notifier popped up with the title 'Open University - Exam results for AA308 now available" in the title bar. Fear struck at me like a 30amp shock from the mains. If this was a pass then I had finally got the degree. I would be a BA...or a BSc. Either way it meant the work would either be worthwhile or a monumental fuck up and misjudgement of my own capability. It would be akin to Paul McCartney thinking Heather Mills was a good choice of wife, or thinking he could ever write a good song again. I decided I couldn't face looking at the result,. After all they'd contact me with any re-sit details wouldn't they? And besides I'd made my mind up that I couldn't go through all that revision bollocks again. Fuck 'em. Fuck the OU, fuck the tutors, fuck the examiners and fuck all the idiots who write the course materials. They'd all conspired against me, the bastards. They didn't want me to pass....they didn't want a Chelsea supporting, Guinness drinking, Comprehensive School educated oik like me to be remotely academic, to be part of the 'Alumni'. See how easily the paranoia and conspiracy theorem takes control?

So I went to get a cup of tea. I returned 10 minutes later to see yet another OU email pop into the inbox. But.........this time the header said "Award of BA degree". Blimey they must have it wrong I thought, but this time I followed the link to the results page. There it was - 60% exam score, overall course score 75%. A pass. Not a distinction. Not a grade 1 pass. But a fucking pass all the same! I am now Grocerjack BA (Open). Of course I am considering the Honours extension by doing a couple of Creative Writing courses. but that's just garnish in my eyes. Am I chuffed? You bet your fucking arse I am.

And thus far that is it. I head into a different Christmas this year. One where I'm thankful to be alive. Thankful that my family is alive and well. A Christmas where despite everything I hit 2 big targets, straight teeth and a degree. Even if the golf deteriorated to a 26 handicap its been worth it. And maybe that handicap is something to improve next year. Its a Christmas day with dinner at the pub with the extended family and not worrying about seating 16 people. No worries about frictions in the kitchen about what order to serve the food in or who has what. Dinner with nobody having to attend anyone else whilst we try to eat, with adults unable to speak or settle down lest a child needs to be waited on hand and foot against the backdrop of a kitchen looking like some sort of modern day apocalyptic post-Hiroshima nightmare. A Christmas Day topped by the Christmas Night party (something I just don't get) but this time at LittleSis's Ranch in the evening where I can kick back and have a glass of wine and cuban cigar safe in the knowledge that for the first time in many years I'm not suffering from a blood pressure attack from the cacophony of noise from presents and toys competing with TV and music, whilst watching kids and adults unwittingly trash my house. I could actually enjoy this one! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.


Later, GJ

Politicians and Idiots - Any diffrence?

Idiot MP's are complaining about the recent arrest of Damien green and the search of his parliamentary office by Police, presumably looking for evidence. Most of the complaints do seem to be coming from the Tories, which may be unsurprising considering Green himself is a Tory MP.

My issues with this complaining are........

a.) Do the disgruntled MP's think that they are above the law?
b.) Do they think that the police should need explicit permission from the Home Secretary to search an office?
c.) If the answer to b.) is yes, then shouldn't that apply to searches on company offices or even private homes?
d.) If a shadow MP receives information of a sensitive or classified nature from a civil servant, shouldn't he/she, as a matter of duty, then report that rather than just talk to the press?
e.) I didn't hear much complaining when people were being arrested in the 'cash for honours' scandal - from whcih of course not a single person was charged.

As I say, idiot MP's, a title that suits them all.

Another little gripe as well. Sir Michael Wright, the coroner in the Jean Charles de Menezes inquest has ruled out 'unlawful killing' as a verdict that the jury can return. So, the family have walked out in apparent protest. Hmmm....does this mean they would only accept one verdict as being right? That of 'unlawful killing' seems to be the only acceptable option to them. Which renders an inquest a bit pointless doesn't it?

Weeks , if not months have been spent on this in order to analyse the evidence. If only one verdict was right or possible then why bother with the cost and trauma of a very public inquest. I'm no judge, or even very au fait with the law but it seems on reading the coroners statement that he has based his summing up on a solid understanding and explanation of UK law rather than any emotional criteria that might come into play. Isn't that the right basis for any decision the jury may reach?

Later, GJ

Conspiracy of technology

Another gap between postings! I'm afraid time seems to conspire against me more and more these days so as much as I'd like to post daily, the reality is its going to be more sporadic than that.


A little progress has been made with 'The Plan' in that the mind map is halfway completed. It strikes me that mind mapping software is amongst the best and most useful stuff ever invented for putting thoughts down and making sense of them. Last week saw another one of those periods where technology was going to fail or conspire to make the week a little more challenging.

Item number 1 to bring on the the cold sweat of technology failure horror happened on realising that the 'sync checked items only' option in iTunes would remove all the songs that didn't have the check box marked. I was trying to sync the damn thing with 4 new tunes I'd added to the library. Hence selecting this option gave me 4 songs on the iPod and removed the other 5419! Not a disaster you might think as the songs are on the PC hard disk, but the fact is that it took an overnight sync of around 8 hours to get it back to where it was. Could I live without the iPod? Possibly, but I can't help feeling a small wave of panic if I go anywhere without it, similar to the mobile phone, the watch and trousers! These software designers have a very long way to go to make things foolproof, especially if someone as technology savvy as me can get it so wrong.

Item number 2 on the list of things to make life a little shittier happened on Wednesday when LittleSis called me to let me know that the hot water tank had sprung a leak. At first she couldn't be sure it was the tank as the water appeared to be running through the airing cupboard ceiling. Note, not trickling, or dripping, but running! This however turned out to be condensation. Credit where its due, she didn't panic after Kid and Pie had called her to come and help. Hellsbells was at work and couldn't leave, and I was in the same boat. LittleSis covered all the right things, switching off the water, turning off the immersion and the controller for the heating and water. My tamed plumber came out and diagnosed the issue as a fucked up immersion heater element that had decided to leak through the top where the electrics are housed. Doesn't sound very safe to me that such a thing could happen, but 5 hours and £70 later the situation had been fixed by The Tame Plumber - all that work for £70 including parts, he's a fucking marvel and a pretty well kept secret for me. He did, however question why we had an immersion on, when the boiler is working perfectly. He may as well have questioned next doors cat such is the paucity of my plumbing knowledge, capability and interest. Plumbings a black art isn't it?

Item number 3 on the list of things to make you scream a little was the failure of a one week old external hard drive I bought for the main home PC. Yep, halfway through moving some data across the power supply decided that it couldn't be arsed to carry out its 'raison d'etre' and did the electro-mechanical equivalent of topping itself. Ok, so the data that is critical was only copied to it, and I did have a month old back on a networked machine I have, but there was still around 80Gb of data lost where its alluring alleged capability and reliability had tempted me to move the data instead of copy it. Fortunately it happened when I was workiong from home so after a mercy dash to the suppliers, it was returned and new one purchased. But yet more hours lost in the pursuit of repairing or rectifying something I've come to rely on.

It wouldn't be so bad if one of the damn things I want to fail decided to pack up. Like the TV for example.......then I could justify a nice big 46" flat screen system with associated Blu-Ray Home Cinema system to replace it. Hellsbells won't let me even consider this and although the idea of sabotage has crept in, I don't think I'd pull it off after the last cunning ploy* I used to buy the current TV.

*Tell Kid aged 9 that you've bought new TV and tell her its a secret from Mummy, knowing the first thing she'll do is tell her. Make sure this happens on sunny friday when Mummy is in the pub having an evening drink. Do it at a time when Mummy has had more than one or two so she's all happy and smily. Let Mummy moan a little but accept it was necessary. Go home and order the TV!

I'm working on another plan to get a new all singing all dancing fuck off HD TV, but if anyone has any sneaky ideas then all offers are gratefully appreciated.

Later, GJ

Guitars, drums, volume....tune!

Well, the development of the plan has stalled slightly due to work suddenly becoming busier, but rest assured I'll get back to it next week. In the meantime this is all about music. As is often the case during times of angst or uncertainty, people turn to different crutches - some will drink, some will eat, some will turn to exercise and some will turn in on themselves or become depressed. Me, I turn to music, gorging on the likes of Pink Floyd or specifically the king of Miserabilism, Roger Waters, and this usually kicks starts the positive driving influences in me after a suitable period of self indulgent internal reflection and gloom. However, as I'm not particularly angst ridden or depressed, just a little grumpier as the years go by, I do seem to have had a massive resurgence in my love of Rock music.

I've always loved music, ever since my childhood and have always viewed those who are apathetic about music with bemusement and suspicion. But during the last few years my ability to sit and just listen to music has declined. This seems to be a result of work and generally lack of time. The last year has seen almost every bit of spare time studying and you simply can't study with music either in the background or foreground. If the music's great then your distracted, if its bad then why would you even have it on?

Anyway, I digress. In the last few weeks I have been turned back on to my favourite form of music, Rock. Not that I ever really went off it, but I just haven't made much of an effort to listen to much and have tended to listen to music radio incidentally, say when driving home from work. The Pure Highway gadget certainly acted as a catalyst for this re-energised passion for Rock. After all, I've waited for 40 plus years for the pitiful radio in the UK to get even close to my taste, whereas in America, niche radio is rife, be it Rap, Religion, Garage, Country or Rock etc. The UK of course had the pathetic Radio Authority, subsequently replaced by OFCOM, another government QUANGO, but both obsessed with public taste and decency. So whilst Classical Music got a nationwide independent station in Classic FM, Rock was ignored. With a blase, arrogant and contemptuous swipe of its authoritarian, puritanical hand the Radio Authority/OFCOM stated that the interests of Pop and Rock music lovers was already well served by local independent radio. Which is bit like saying that the needs of a blind man are well served by dark glasses. Frankly UK radio is shite, double shite and arse gravy. For the past few years I've been stuck with the admirable 5 Live and small bits of Radio 2. Now, thanks to the Pure Highway and the internet, and DAB radio in general I can fulfil my radio needs at the press of a button.

The other influence has of course been Planet Rock, quite simply the best radio station in the UK. They play all the music that hits my buttons and some of the new and the new (but old) stuff I've recently discovered has had a huge affecton the re-kindling of my love affair with all things long haired, denim and leather clad and guitar based. It's the little things like NOT censoring lyrics and playing the full tracks with no chit chat over intro's or endings, plus a diverse play list and comparatively few ads that make the difference. I have a letter written which outlines why I think I should be a presenter on the station - I mean how hard can it be to play great music all day long and have a laugh as well? That would be very high on my list of perfect jobs. The alternative is to start my own radio station. You can laugh, but surely they all start somewhere and I find the idea of being a 'radio pirate' quite appealing. It would be my own way of saying 'Fuck the System', whilst doing something I genuinely love. Plus I can talk for England, so no dead air!

To head off into the weekend I thought I'd share some of the recent discoveries/re-discoveries, songs and performers, which have been my equivalent of finding a diamond in a bag of rubies. All of which just goes to prove that no-one has heard everything and indeed unless someone plays this stuff to you, such as a radio station, then you may never discover it.

Sloe Gin by Joe Bonamassa
Stargazer by Rainbow
Magic Bus (studio and live) by The Who
The Faith Healer by Sensational Alex Harvey Band
A Great Day for Freedom by David Gilmour from the Live in Gdansk album which I hadn't even heard of but will own for Christmas
Good to be Bad - the whole album by Whitesnake released this year
Sheer Heart Attack - Queen (from News of the World)
Crime of the Century - Supertramp
Tusk - Fleetwood Mac
Sweet Emotion - Aerosmith
Heaven and Hell - Black Sabbath (with Dio not Ozzy)
Baba O'Riley - The Who
Pour Some Sugar On Me - Def Leppard
Boogie with Stu - Led Zeppelin
Carouselambra - Led Zeppelin
Highway Star - Deep purple - the live version from Made In Japan
The Unforgiven - Metallica

And finally the rather magnificent...

Like a Hurricane by Neil Young

Not bad. Not bad at all.

Later, GJ

A cunning plan?

In this advancing world of uncertainty over my job, I have decided it would be prudent to start to plan for what might be

a.) inevitable and not my choice
b.) the biggest and bravest move I've ever made
c.) The nuclear fall out - that is, a plan that is ready but you hope never to use




Of course that plan then becomes structured into various headings and thats when the complexity starts to build.

a.) What can I do that I know I can do?

b.) What do I think I can do?

c.) What can I do but as yet don't know I can do or have never tried?

d.) What can't I do and could never realistically do?

On top of this we have to add another layer of complexity

a.) What can I do that I know I can do, but do enjoy doing?

b.) What can I do that I know I can do, but don't enjoy doing?

b.) What do I think I can do, but would enjoy doing?

d.) What do I think I can do, but wouldn't enjoy doing?

e.) What can I do but as yet don't know I can do, or have never tried, but would probably enjoy doing?

f.) What can I do but as yet don't know I can do, or have never tried, but would probably not enjoy doing and can subsequently rule out?

g.) What can't I do and could never realistically do?

Of course that then becomes even harder....

a.) What can I do that I know I can do, and enjoy doing that will earn me enough money to continue as I am?

b.) What can I do that I know I can do, but don't enjoy doing that will earn me enough money to continue as I am?

c.) What do I think I can do, but would enjoy doing that will earn me enough money to continue as I am?

d.) What do I think I can do, but wouldn't enjoy doing that will earn me enough money to continue as I am?

e.) What can I do but as yet don't know I can do, or have never tried, but would probably enjoy doing that will earn me enough money to continue as I am?

f.) What can I do but as yet don't know I can do, or have never tried, but would probably not enjoy doing and can subsequently rule out?

g.) What can't I do and could never realistically do?

And then............

a.) What can I do that I know I can do, and enjoy doing, that will make me rich?

b.) What can I do that I know I can do, but don't enjoy doing, that will make me rich?

c.) What do I think I can do, and would enjoy doing, that will make me rich?

d.) What do I think I can do, but wouldn't enjoy doing, that will make me rich?

e.) What can I do but as yet don't know I can do, or have never tried, but would probably enjoy doing, that will make me rich?

f.) What can I do but as yet don't know I can do, or have never tried, but would probably not enjoy doing and can subsequently rule out, unless its likely to make me very rich?

g.) What can't I do and could never realistically do despite the chance it would me me very rich and hence might be worth a punt if desperate?

And finally....

All of the previous, but with the added question of what I am morally prepared to do. I'm not even unemployed but I do wonder if my principles of fairness and decency to people would be something I could just discard in order to get to the end result. Is my current moral compass stuck merely because I live in the comfort zone of wage slave? Could I be a ruthless bastard willing to use the phrase 'It isn't personal' to justify hard business/self preservation/get rich decisions?

Yes, I think I could.

Anyway, to get this plan under construction I will need a mind map, a spreadsheet, probably a process flow diagram, some swim lanes diagrams, an Ishikawa/Fishbone diagram, a Gannt chart and finally some sort of tabular display with a final list of options, each with a relative success likelihood indicator score, in turn linked to a set of sub plans for each consequence outlining an approach, an action plan and a final result.

Looking at that last paragraph, a job in the legal proffession or with a local authority seems to beckon. Have I really turned into Captain Darling?

Later, GJ

The Creativity Gap

Creativity suffers under the warm caress of contentment. One only has to look at how the best songs are those written from the pain of angst and suffering....or drugs I suppose.

So, sometimes the creative juices don't always flow as freely. But a seething and bubbling mood of discontent is never far from the surface as the constant barrage of bad news continues to smash into us on a daily basis. It is now becoming more and more obvious that that contentment in my life goes as far as family. Kid is now happily studying at college and in tow with a seeming sensible boyfriend on the verge of joining the Marines, and Pie having just completed her first GCSE at the tender age of 13. Hellsbells and I battle on with the daily grind like all good parents do. On the boyfriend front, my adaptability amazes me. For Mini-Me I was able to act the gruff misery who could be friendly when it suited him, but if this kid is joining the Marines then expect me to pull out the doddery, friendly old Dad act. No point in riling him is there?

But everyday I now find my job becoming more and more meaningless. Don't get me wrong I love the team, really enjoy leading them and seeing each and every one of them flourish. But I now seem to be almost irrelevant in its success and maybe its time to think about moving on. Maybe I've found my Kevin Keegan moment and realised I've taken them as far as I can. My new boss, who replaced The Tub Thumper (TTT), has been asked to restructure his department, now called Service Management and we have tentatively discussed anew role within that structure which may pique my interest again. My new boss, lets call him Squadron Leader as he is ex-RAF, is as far removed from the fluffy faux people friendly world of TTT as possible, who despite her wacky fundamental Christian beliefs, over sincere caring attitude and crap jokes I must admit to liking. Squadron Leader doesn't do fluffy and doesn't do communicating much. He's very much like Captain Jean Luc Picard of Star Trek Next Generation fame. He seems determined to surround himself with strong personalities who'll deal with the crew of the good ship Service Management, the customers and the rest of the business whilst he does the strategic stuff with The Federation.

Thats fine by me and I've shown a degree of enthusiasm for his plans, but deep inside I can't help wondering whether its what I want. I'm a person who thrives in smaller departments, a bigger fish in a smaller pond if you like, When I first moved into The Customer Facing Operations Bit of High Tech Pipes, Tubes and Strings it was about 150 people strong, now its 500 people strong and the intimacy and friendliness has evaporated. It's full of over-promoted engineers managing people by box ticking and numbers. The fun has gone, summed up by the cancellation of the Christmas Party in favour of smaller more localised team based events. Heaven forbid that people might want to mix outside of their local team circle huh?

And hence its time to start making plans. Plans to take a grip on my life and try something different for the inevitable day when the big push arrives. Believe me its going to happen, another round of job losses to follow the bollocks of earlier this year. A recession is all that major corporations need in order to to decide that they are 'overweight' and need to be become 'lean and agile' - despite their own recruitment policies being the very cause of this during the apparent good times. The Company will be no different, despite my desire for the CEO to stand up to the greedy City idiots who've caused this recession and tell them to keep their noses out of how he runs The Company and to assure the staff that they will still be in place for when the economic upturn hapens. I foresee some 10,000 jobs going similar to the number BT have decided to lay off. I've never been unemployed since the day I left school way back in 1978 and have never been through redundancy. So, if it does happen this time it will be a new experience for me, and no doubt one which will fuel the creative flames.

Unless , of course I'm still coated in redundancy teflon and slip nhrough the net again.

Later, GJ.

Mental?

Sorry people, slacking again.

I know the internet has opened up new ways of communication for countless millions around the world. Internet dating remains phenomenally popular for those who don't want to traipse about in clubs and pubs in some sort of human equivalent of a cattle market. Great and very liberating I imagine.

But this story has to be the most mental thing I've ever read in The Guardian.

Have a read and tell me different.

Back next week.

Later GJ

A Star Spangled Future?

Well, that was exciting wasn't it. After months of build up America has finally made its collective mind up and elected Barack Obama as the new President.



I've been a bit ambivalent to the whole political scene whether here or abroad, fed up by politicians everywhere seemingly hell bent on ignoring the very populace that elected them and I doubt Obama will be much different. it isn't by choice of course, like most that ascend the political ladder they start with honourable intentions of doing good things, but invariably get ground down in the end by the harsh realities of political dogma, press campaigns, military pressure, religious influence and big business interests. How very disillusioning that must be to find out that you are but a piece in the overall theatre of power.

I remember the feeling well when Britain turned out in droves to sweep a fresh faced Tony Blair into power in 1997. Life promised much and Blair seemed so in touch with real people. The hope was that this was truly a new dawn for this country in terms of being a modern, civilised, balanced and progressive society. No longer. it seemed, would class play a part in how priveleged your education might be, and consequently what profession you might choose. Age, whether old or young would be no barrier to your voice being heard. The same applied to colour, race or creed. Socialism with a glass of champagne, rewarding those who deserved it, rather than the Marxist dogma of everyone bar an elite being the same. Any right minded society will reward Doctors, nurses and teachers etc on an equal basis to those working in banks gambling our money away. After all, they have the biggest and most valuable responsibility, far outweighing that of cash.Our lives and our futures.

As the years went by though it became obvious Blair was crumbling under the pressure of his faith, the myriad of 'Sir Humphrey's' throwing civil service bureaucracy in the way, the secret services and the good old US of A, choking the poodles leash to ensure we did what America wanted. A crying shame to see such bright eyed idealism extinguished like Elton's candle. I hope the same fate doesn't befall Barack Obama because if ever a nation needed re-inventing more than this one, then it's America. It's hard to imagine, after 8 years of Bush, an America that has a friendly face for the world. An America that doesn't take a default stance of mistrust. An America that takes a world view on conflict resolution and doesn't deem invasion or threat as the only methods of dealing with international unrest. An America that doesn't think 'oil first' but looks at ways of pushing new fuel technologies and uses these to help the western civilised world become independent of Middle East oil. An America that smiles at the world, helps those in need, internally and externally and becomes a force for progress around the globe. A tall order of course, but a worthy target.

If the new President can survive for a second term, politically and physically (America has a disturbing tendency to assassinate progressive thinkers) then it can once again be a role model for others to adopt. I'd start by adopting their 'no more than 2 terms' stance for all PM's and party leaders. Later, GJ

The perfect summing up

If I had this blokes gift I'd be the happiest man on Earth

Click here and have a read of the ever brilliant Charlie Brooker for one of the funniest and most sensible views on the Brand/Ross non-story and one that I wholeheartedly agree with.

Mr Brooker, you're a comedy genius.

God only knows

About a year or so ago, my 33 year conversion from maternally indoctrinated Catholicism through Agnosticism to Atheism was completed. Thanks be to Richard Dawkins for 'The God Delusion' and its televisual translation 'The Root of all Evil?'.

At the age of 14 I started to challenge my Mum on why God would insist on me going to Church every Sunday instead of letting me play football with my mates. If God really loved me then wouldn't he give that love unconditionally? Isn't that the very essence of the emotion called Love? Why would he be so cruel as to stop me doing something I enjoyed that was also healthy, in favour of sitting through 90 minutes of full Catholic Mass in glorious mumbo-jumbo latin? Even when the church decided that as English speaking people we might be better served with Mass taking place in our own language all this did was shave about 5 minutes off the service. A 14 year old football mad kid is made to go to Church, whilst his laughing mates take the mickey and go off to the fields to practice the art of the volley, the feint, the dribble and argue over the foibles of the offside rule. You can see why this might be a catalyst for some alternative ideas to form in a malleable mind.

From this confusion on why God would expect such worship as a condition of alleged love and where I'd end up when its all over and the insistence on such worship taking place in direct competition with a young boy's passion for football there came a greater set of questions. Why does God put conditions on our existence. Why did God seemingly have no issues with the taking of life displayed in his treatment of Sodom and Gomorrah? Why so willing to lay plague, pestilence and flood on the world to teach us a lesson? Why allow people in his name to oppress others with such vicious cruelty? Why allow people to be born with extraordinarily cruel disabilities? Why insist that every newborn child be born with Original Sin when they have no concept of any human conditions such as justice, good, evil, love and hate amongst others? The more I questioned, the more I was rebuffed with answers derived from Faith. Non-answers I called them - the equivalent of replying to a child's innocent question with 'Because I said so' or 'Because that's the way it is'.

Nothing filled me with more anger than and confusion than the 'God moves in mysterious ways' maxim. I will never understand the solace people derive from turning to a God that has allowed their son or daughter, mother or father to be brutally murdered, or die from some horrendous disease. A God that not only allowed the person to suffer, but also those closest to that person as well. it all seems so vindictive and spiteful. An apparently all seeing, all encompassing, omnipotent being sat on his arse and allowed Madeline McCann to be abducted, Sarah Payne to be murdered, Jamie Bulger to be killed...the list goes on. And here's the thing, if we saw these acts taking place and did nothing, then according to the Bible we would be classed as sinners for turning the other cheek. Apparently Gods own law doesn't apply to him though. He can sit back and allow such acts or inflict disease with complete impunity. Some will blame another mythical figure for such evils, that of Satan, but by definition of omnipotence shouldn't God have rooted Satan out by now and done away with him? Shouldn't God forgive all those moving into the afterlife rather than further condemning them to an eternity of Fire and Brimstone? If the essence of Christianity is peace and forgiveness then does this also exclude him when he judges our lives?

So many questions remain unanswered and philosophically I just can't see any religious argument standing up. But why this tirade? Well last week I went to a funeral for my Uncle. He was also my Godfather, a title bestowed as part of his and my family's Catholicism. He was a decent chap, lived a good life and made 83 years of age, despite being so seriously ill 25 years ago he was given the last rites. This event was just one in a series of thought challenging ones that have happened in the last year, all of which would test anyone's beliefs. There was Hellsbells breast cancer scare. There was the redundancies at work, not once but twice and now prospectively a third time. The loss of friends and colleagues wasn't on a parallel with death, but it still hit home. During this time I shielded the team from a lot of the crap because in my old fashioned way that's what I believe a good manager should do. My eldest daughter, Kid, was in final year GCSE mode and the associated exams combined with the big moment of leaving school and watching adulthood bloom is another pressure. Pie's transformation from sweet little Daddy's girl into feisty teenagehood and development into a young woman was another change you can never be prepared for. The debilitating intercostal muscle tear, blood pressure and high cholesterol issues added another layer. The studying for the degree and the pressure of the exam piled up. The car accident which should have left us dead happened, but we walked away relatively unharmed. The death of a favourite uncle. The reason I'm writing this is to highlight the battering my new suit of Atheist armour seems to have taken in one year.

Its almost as if God had decided to put me through a series of tests in order to regain my Faith. It hasn't worked. Everything still has a logical explanation. Gods hand did not hold my car and prevent it from being squashed or flipped. The Atheism was always 99% with just a little bit of room for doubt as the truth is, despite there being no evidence to prove God's existence, there is also nothing to conclusively disprove it. If God does exist and he wants me back in the fold then there's an easy way to do that.

Meet me for a pint, prove your existence and explain yourself.

Later , GJ

Can I have a refund?

Slow news week?
















Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross are everywhere across the broadcast and press media thanks to a phone prank which at best was ill advised but is hardly the stuff to be headlining the news is it? Driving home yesterday the normally excellent Drive programme on 5 Live spoke of more or less nothing else.



So whilst people are losing jobs and homes, companies are being laid to waste, a banking and financial system so hideously full of corrupt and crooked gamblers continues to destroy our pension hopes, soldiers continue to die fighting illegal and pointless wars and the worlds self appointed Policeman starts to choose its next leader, the UK and its' Daily Mail worshipping fuckwit moral minority screams for the heads of two popular presenters who screwed up.

I'm no fan of either, Russell Brand's type of humour leaves me cold. I'm funnier than him by a country mile. Ross is a good film reviewer but a shit chat show host. Again I'm funnier than him by a long way, but the difference with me is I would be interested in what the guest has to say, whereas Ross is all about himself. Don't get me wrong here, what they did was puerile and inappropriate. They deserve censure for sure and a warning on future behaviour. But sacking?
And for MP's and then Gordon Fuckwit to feel the need to get involved defies belief. Listen you pricks...YOU DON'T SPEAK FOR ME so stop saying you represent 'the public'. Most of the public couldn't give a shit. The 18,000 complainants are bandwagon jumping morons without a sense of proportion or reason. It's obvious now that it's not about what they did, but more about how much they earn, or whether they're liked. I'm a tub thumping socialist of the champagne variety and this smacks of snobbery, elitism, moralism and the politics of envy. They may earn a lot but someone thinks that's value and for everyone like me who doesn't rate their 'talent' there's someone who does.

It's the same for MPs or public figures who have affairs. Sacking, why? What business is it of anyone's who they screw, eat with or drink with? Do I look at these people for a moral steer? Not in a million years. George Osborne takes a freebie on a Russian Oligarchs boat. Sack him they cry. Why? Do we assume guilt? Or is innocence now the thing to be proven whilst guilt is assumed? Who wouldn't accept a freebie like that to get a few free glasses of champagne?

My point is this. Our so called Christian society, allegedly built on justice and fair play now seems to be lurching inexorably towards a 'hang 'em high' society led by intellectually challenged, moralistic, fucktards living by the politics and values of The Daily Mail. My tax money is being wasted in Parliament by discussions on trivial issues such as this raised by publicity seeking MP's with no sense of reality. I'd like my money back please because I funded that waste of time in Parliament yesterday, and I funded MP's who felt it OK to waster public time and money with soundbite TV and radio interviews on what is ultimately a non-subject. Oh and Jonathan Ross went to see Andrew Sachs personally and apologise with a hand written letter and flowers. A decent response and a display of admirable regret. Good enough for Sachs apparently, but not good enough for the bleeding heart self appointed public guardians with too much time on their hands.

Is that what we really want? If it is then I'm off to somewhere that doesn't care less.

Later, GJ

The lifestyle changes are slowly moving into place. It took a day or two to turn the half empty glass into a half full one, but in inevitable Jack style it came true as ever. A couple of days mulling over the ramifications of being doomed to a high cholesterol count irrespective of diet has now led to the nightly consumption of a statin. Since Saturday I’ve alternated between a cycling session for 25 minutes on the exercise bike, swimming and a session at the gym. The cycling on the exercise bike rather than my beloved real ones is done with a view to building up enough stamina to cover a hilly 6.2 mile route (can we have Kilometres please, they’re so much easier?) without embarrassingly being overtaken by OAP’s riding town bikes…yes that has happened before!

The swimming was something I got rather proficient at but due to lack of practice the power levels have dropped alarmingly. Whereas once I could knock a 100 lengths out, nowadays it is far less unless I want 10 minutes breaks between each set of lengths. As for the gym…..well many years ago I used to go weight training (as we called it then) using free weights and loved it. It was hard but ultimately rewarding and the difference in terms of body shape and strength was frankly amazing. Nowadays of course I’m way too old to be pushing barbells and dumbbells around the place, so I told the gym instructor I wanted machines only. I don’t think he quite understood this as of the 4 (to start with) exercises he’s given me one is with dumbbells and another using a bar! Still, from acorns………..

I’ll periodically update my progress or otherwise here, but for the time being apart from the aches and pains the freedom from studying has settled in and perhaps given me the impetus to shape up. I know my target weight loss and so with baby steps I am now starting the journey to comparative fitness and better health through, admittedly, fairly minor lifestyle changes. But will it last?

That’s as positive as it gets at the moment.!

Just some observations.

I see the spineless cunts in the City are still as clueless and moronic as ever, acting in their usual cowardly like way to rumour and hearsay by trashing company values and our pensions by bringing the markets down. Is this really the only way? Why do we trust these people? They are no better than you or me, and I would argue that the knee jerk mentality of how they work would actually see most of us sacked for sheer bloody incompetence.

The M6 tragedy which killed 6 people yesterday – after what happened to us it certainly made me think again of just how lucky we were. Just what is the DVLA doing about the increased number of incidents that relate to foreign HGV drivers?

Did George Osborne actually do anything wrong? Are we now a society whereby drinks on a yacht automatically means corruption? The actual offence would be a valid news story if the Tory party had taken any money, but they didn’t and the whole story seems premised on someone overhearing an alleged request. Are we heading into thought crime territory? Must be a slow news week. Maybe even the press are sick of financial Armageddon stories.

I think my proposed political party might under a re-branding from Liberation to Reform. Hmmm…..doesn’t sound quite so positive to me, but maybe it says more about my political beliefs.

A rare thing indeed.....

Amidst all the bollocks around global financial collapse, caused by greedy, spineless, loathsome, pin-strip suited cunts (apologies ........that word is only reserved for people getting the full GrocerJack wrath), and the ensuing media clamour to escalate the news to levels of Armageddon like doom, as each arm from broadcast to print tries to outdo their rivals with more and more sexy bad news, along comes an article on page 2 of a major UK national newspaper which truly gladdens the heart.

Click here to follow the link and have a read.

Now isn't that the exact sort of thing we should be spending money on instead of paying obscene amounts of money to fat cats presiding over failed business models? Or lining the pockets of even greedier shareholders? Or paying obscene bonuses to the merchant bankers as a reward for GUESSING and GAMBLING? Or underpinning corrupt banks and financial institutions with money we've paid in tax to bail out there dismal failed business logic, so that one day they can get rich again and pay their shareholders the profits of our toil, whilst charging us interest to borrow money we've already leant them?

Hats off to The Guardian as well for breaking the mould and publishing such a potentially good news story and giving it such a high profile place in their august organ.

Later GJ

Change my dear...and not a moment too soon. Part deux

.........5 minutes sat there, eyes blurred, sweat forming on the brow, stomach churning, fear growing. The words of Roger Waters echoing around my mind...'And as the fear grows, the bad blood shows and turns to stone'. Then like a switch had been flicked in the central processing unit of the brain, I picked a question and thought...'fuck it ...in for a penny...' .

Is Shame a serious concern-based construal?

I could have answered this with one word. Yes! Or maybe no!But of course more, much more was expected. As I started to write the answer started to get mixed up, my arguments faltering on mixed references but eventually the ship was steadied and the words started to flow. One hour later, two packets of Dextrosol consumed, question done. Too late to change it now.

Is any version of the definition of creativity immune to counter-examples?

Not to an argumentative gobby shit like me. That's the answer I'd like to have given but of course couldn't. Two questions down and 55 minutes left.It's bladder time. Hold up hand like a schoolboy and get the disapproving nod of the invigilator, who for the day thought he was a German labour camp guard.

Does Descartes offer any good arguments for substance dualism?

Well he fucking ought to as he was the person who first championed this view. Hmm.....not really an answer either, but with 50 minutes remaining I knocked out a mind map and wrote an answer. Mission accomplished. 3 questions from 10 in 5 sections, 2 per section. Phew.

By the time we walked out, and despite my new varifocal glasses my combination of tiredness and eye strain meant everything was like looking through frosted glass. Add some right hand RSI to the thumb and forefinger after 3 hours of solid (ish) writing and the journey home was very slow and very careful. I was working from home afterwards but the truth is all i did was go through emails. By 17:00 I was fading fast and the evening was spent flitting in and out of jumpy sleep. By 22:00 I was in bed and for the first time since the bloody accident, my body gave in and slept solidly through the night.

That exam ended a sort of seminal year for me. A year of ups and downs and a near death experience that has made me re-evaluate how i live it. A year whereby my golf suffered through lack of practice due to injury (intercostal muscle), shite weather and studying. A year whereby my beloved bikes barely got a trot out because of injury, shite weather and bloody studying. A year when I worked under 3 different bosses as the breaker waves of organizational transformation battered the hull of Good Ship Jack. A year in which my orthodontic appliances or braces as we know them went from humiliating (elastic bands clamping the jaws together for fucks sake) to a stunning end result of straight teeth and the gradual realisation that i no longer had to put my hand over my mouth to smile. A year in which outgoings went up and real income dropped. A year in which I survived a car crash that even a month later defies logic with and end result of the family surviving when that is the least likely option on the pick list of outcomes after being hit by a 44 tonner.

And then today. Despite my best efforts to eat like a fucking rabbit, avoiding red meat, avoiding sweets and biscuits I go for my annual blood pressure check (fine - 134/77) , asthma check (better lung power than last year despite the off Cuban cigar) and flu jab (well, proper flu has been a stranger for a few years) only to discover cholesterol levels are as bad as they could be. Bad cholesterol is HIGH - over 5 apparently. Good cholesterol is very low - 0.58 apparently which is the Doctors worse this year. Weight - 94kg, slightly up on last year.

Despite my protests of eating well and healthily (most of the time!) it appears that my liver might just break down food that way. It wouldn't matter what I ate
if that's the way your liver functions then it'll never change - fucking genetics conspiring again. And so to add the cocktail of pills, Ramipril and Bendroflumethiazide, a daily fish oil and garlic tablet, plus the Becotide inhaler I will now also be taking something called Simvastatin until I drop dead. And that last drug means never having Grapefruit or Grapefruit juice again! Another avenue of pleasure closed down!

Great.

And so, its time to put the year behind me and start concentrating on things I want to do. So I hereby resolve to lose weight by exercising more, and so its back to the gym where Hellsbells works for yet another induction course. Its time to resume the swimming. I used to be very powerful at swimming. And the bikes have to come into use. It's winter so the bike I bought from Strings is being dusted down and bought into service as a winter road bike. I will start from 3 exercise sessions a week and build it to a daily routine, perhaps with Saturdays or Sundays off, depending on whether football is on. And golf? Well I need to find a golf partner as everyone I know only wants to play early Saturday mornings, but maybe if I stop the Friday Guinness then that won't be a problem.

Do I cut out my Friday night Guinness? Does that really make that much difference? I'll hold judgement on that. Surely life has to have some pleasures that don't involve physical exertion or rabbit food? My new year starts this week, I hope it's more fun than it sounds.

Later, GJ

Change my dear...and not a moment too soon.

So, a week in the South of France to revise zoomed past and it didn't ever get to the point where I felt in anyway rested or relaxed. True, if I'd stayed at home to revise I'd have got less done in all probability but the truth is wherever I'd gone to revise I would have ended up looking for ANYTHING to distract me and take me away from the incredible dullness of revision. Is there any real way to make revision fun or even mildly interesting? I will never use another weeks holiday to do this - my holiday is for relaxing and doing what I want....resentful..........moi?


Anyway, I drove back on Sunday leaving The Money Pit at 07:20 and frankly after the nightmare of the journey down i wasn't looking forward to it. But.......it went swimmingly! It took me 9 hours and 4 minutes to cover 657 miles, averaging 74mph for the whole journey, a seriously good average including stops, and I ended up in Dunkerque 3.5 hours early for the boat. The upside of the Eastern Channel crossings is that the boats are far more frequent than from Portsmouth or Plymouth, so I was able to get the 18:00 boat instead of my one booked for 10:00. It looked like I'd be home by 21:30 which is a good 2-3 hours earlier than I'd expected or planned. That is of course until I get to the poxy M25 whereby I immediately hit an hours delay due to an earlier accident. Bummer.

I got in the house at 22:00, shattered and increasingly panicked by the thought of the exam. I desperately tried to do some on the bloody boat even, and after I got in and was (warm;y?) welcomed by HellsBells, Kid and Pie I tried to get another hour or so in. My head hurt the instant i tried to assimilate more information. Is it possible that the brain has a finite storage limit? That's a cognitive architecture argument against the Computational Theory of Mind and a feeble attempt at Philosophical humour.

Guess how much sleep I got? Despite being .........I think the best phrase is fucked...........yep....about an hour because every time I dropped off all my mind kept doing was running exam scenarios through it. Ironic really when the exam was 'Philosophy of the Mind', but an irony lost on me at this point.

09:30 Monday, 30 minutes before the exam. I am sitting in the Hampshire Rose Bowl. All around me are OU students each to a person huddled over last minute scribbled notes cramming in as much last minute knowledge as possible. They ALL look far more intelligent than me. My demeanour masks a physically shattered bodily form, aching joints and muscles combining with overwhelming tiredness to make my inner self a shadow of the outer self. Descartes would have loved the dualistic analogy. But, I'd not given up, merely decided that if I didn't know enough by the time I left my house then I never would. I still think it's intimidating to see loads of people cheerfully revising away and smilingly walking into the exam room. Also intimidating is the fucking bright spark who asks for another answer booklet less than an hour into the exam when you've written about 4 sides at best! Why allow that? Why not just pile a load of answer booklets on each desk and tell students that's their lot?

10:00, Turn your papers over now.................oh shit......

Later, GJ

Same old, same old

Click to enlarge the piccie.

With thanks to a like minded friend,Au Revoir, GJ

Une lettre de la France

Halfway through my early winter break at The Money Pit and I've finally relaxed. To call the outward journey a bit challenging might be understating things a bit. Leaving home at 5 in the evening on Saturday I had been warned that the weather might be a bit ....shall we say.......blowy? Arriving at Dover in good time as planned at 8 I was then duly informed that the boat was delayed by 90 minutes.

Hmmm...not a good start as the idea of getting there at 8, some 2 hours before departure was to make sure I was on nice and early and picking the best spot in the lounge to get a couple of hours shut eye in before the long haul down the length of France through the night. This news meant 3.5 hours in the embarkation area, which didn't sound like fun.

It wasn't - especially in light of the fact that the cafe area was pretty rank and by this time the wind was at 50mph and the rain pretty much horizontal. Miserable in other words. Living near Portsmouth I usually go from there to Le Havre but Dover to Dunkerque was half the price and as I was travelling 'sans famille' I decided to try a different way.

Never again. It's 127 miles to Dover from Chez Jack, so you've done over 2 hours on the road before getting on the boat. From Dunkerque to The Money Pit is 657 miles and the older you get the harder it is to do that in one go. Bones and joints complain. Eyes play tricks. Muscles cramp up. At Dover I seriously thought about turning round and going back home, but as I was effectively transporting half of Argos and B&Q down to The Money Pit, I had to persevere.

In the end the boat was delayed by 4.5 hours! Which meant I'd been sat there for 6.5 hours in a steamed up car unable to get a decent radio signal or lay down and get some kip due to the load. Oh, and by the way, Norfolkline did not give us one single update during that time. SeaFrance on the other hand carried on merrily sailing away, as did P&O.

Ever had the feeling that things are against you? Well, in Dover I tried to lay across the driver and passenger front seats, hoping for some solace in sleep until someone decided whether or not we sailed. Whilst doing this I sat on my brand new 12v socket doubler allowing me simultaneous use of Sat nav and Dab Radio. Not anymore. Then at the first Peage, instead of doing as I'd planned and getting out of the car and walking round to pay I decided to stay dry and as I moved back into the drivers seat my shoulder hit the rear view mirror and it popped out of its socket. 600 miles with no rear view mirror was not the best experience of my life! The weather in Northern France was as bad if not worse, and the rain so bad I couldn't see the white lines in the road. From 05:30 until 07:30 (sunrise) my top speed was 40mph. i really wanted to go home at this point. I was driving the yellow Leon which saved our lives a few weeks back - so being a typical bloke had decided to be 13 years old and pretend I was test piloting a new aircraft. Well, it kept me going! Shortly after the mirror debacle a yellow warning light appeared on the dash. Apparently I have tyre pressure indicators! I decided after a cursory look, like any good pilot, that the error was a fault in the warning light and not the tyre. I carried on regardless.

Off the boat at 05:30, arrived at The Money Pit at 16:30! 11 of the hardest hours driving I've ever done and barring the journey home, not a trip I'll repeat, not on my own at least.

Anyway, after 2 days of unpacking and testing new Money Pit gadgets, hanging pictures, making the beds for Hellsbells when she arrives to open up in April (more bedding and towels here than a branch of Debenhams!), the revision has started although as feared it is bloody dull. The weather until today has been warm and sunny with a little high cloud. Today it was cold and rainy until about 6 when it cleared again. Sitting outside a little bar in the village square in the balmy evening sun, watching the world go by seems to have been the clinching proof that at last I have a couple of days to read and rest.

Fingers crossed for some Gallic peace and quiet.

Au Revoir, GJ.

Later All

Well, I'm off to France tomorrow in my lovley little yellow car, all refreshed and back from the car hospital. I'm back on the 13th when my exam happens and then after that I'll be back to ranting and pontificating best........free prescription charges for Northern Ireland but NOT England? Same for Scotland and Wales..........grrrrrrr. A father kills his 2 year old son and himslef to 'save his son from pain of broken familty'....WTF? the list goes on!

Back soon with new empty and open mind......

Later, GJ

Life goes on....for some

Well, a few more days have passed since Monsieur Merde tried and failed to send Jack off to meet his maker. Sleep is still not coming too easily and now at last after what, 10 days, the aches and pains have subsided to a point where a daily dosage of Ibuprofen is no longer necessary. The car has also been authorised to be repaired at around £4500, which gives an indication I guess of the damage done. Lucky it was only a month old then.


One of the strange things is the way Kid and Pie have reacted to the whole thing. I’m not sure if its genetic pragmatism inherited from their Mum, the fact that neither drive or just the malleable nature of the teenage mind rendering its repair process to be quicker, but after the initial hysteria and shock dissipated, both have just got back on with their lives with minimum fuss. This makes me feel even worse, because it’s taken me so long for the shock to get to the point where normality is in sight.

Is it age and our greater sense of mortality that does this to us? Have I tripped unwittingly over yet another apparent disadvantage of ageing? Or is it an advantage, one which feeds an increasing sense of awareness around danger, perhaps even paranoia? Is this why parents fuss so much, because as we get older and ‘one day closer to death’, as Pink Floyd so memorably sang, that our appreciation of the tenuous grip we all have on life is even more acute?

On another Floyd note, I’d just like to express my own sadness at the passing of Richard Wright, a key member of my all time favourite band. Richard Wright was the quiet one of the band, happily sitting in the background and courting publicity unwittingly, and yet providing some of the best creative input, contributing to the ‘sound’ of Pink Floyd which so set them aside from anything before or since. He was 65, no age to die, and throughout all of the troubles fought publicly and privately by the band, he was the one who’s dignity and charm stood out. His death puts paid to any true reunion of this great band. Roger Waters and Dave Gilmour have bickered and prevaricated over such a reunion for years now, well now it’s too late. And that’s a shame as a lot of fans have never seen them or had the chance to bid them adieu. I’ve seen them 6 times in all, and each was utterly awesome, far more than just a rock concert, more a piece of performance art. Music sits a poorer place with Richard Wright’s loss.


Later , GJ.

PS – happier posts to come, but there’s an exam coming up (eeeek) and yet another week in France revising. Then life will hopefully be truly back to normal

Lucky indeed

Hmm, why would someone park their car right in front of 44 tonne HGV you might ask? After all the picture suggests some plucky motorist making a stance against some empty headed trucker out looking for the next ordinary driver he can terrorise. Or perhaps the picture was taken in France and the driver of the yellow car has found a space in front of a lorry to park in as he goes off to the market or beach. Believe me, parking in France is often just like this.



Or, it could be this.


Driving back from The Grandmaster and Audrey's place on Saturday afternoon, bimbling along at 70 on the M25 between junctions 11 and 10, anti-clockwise I was in lane 2 overtaking a French lorry driving on the inside lane at around 65. I wasn't whizzing past him as the traffic was quite heavy and I was behind another lorry, but I was doing around 5mph more than Monsieur Merde (look it up on a french translation site). Kid and Pie were happily listening to their iPods and Hellsbells was settling back for a comfy doze. I was listening to Planet Rock on a low volume so as not to wake Hellsbells.

That's when it happened. The stretch of the M25 we were on had no hard shoulder and we were about a mile from the A3 turn off. That's when we felt the first impact. Monsieur Merde, presumably like most HGV drivers, a person who presumably believes himself a professional driver had decided to move into our lane. The flaw in his planned move was in not checking for the presence of a BRIGHT FUCKING YELLOW SEAT LEON!

The first impact hit Hellsbells door. We know this because Pie was looking out that side at the time. This knocked us at an angle to Monsiuer Merde and his 44-tonne killing machine and the second impact on Kids door swung us into a skid from which we ended up pinned to the front of his juggernaut at 65mph at a right angle to the direction of our actual travel!

The next 20 seconds, which seemed like an eternity were the most terrifying of my entire life, and undoubtedly those oh Hellsbells, Kid and Pie. We travelled like this for around 350 yards with plumes of tyre smoke all around us, the screeching noise matched only by the crunching of metal collapsing under the sheer force of his momentum and that of Hellsbells and the girls.

As far as I could see, we were dead, or at the least severely injured. The one thing I remember is looking out of the passenger side past Hellsbells and seeing nothing but the front end of a 44-tonne murder machine blocking the entire view.

Eventually we could sense that we were slowing down and Monsieur Merde, showing some degree of belated skill had eventually managed to push us into the hard shoulder, but this has to be tempered with the fact that we were PINNED TO HIS FUCKING CAB and where he went, we went.

The picture was taken around 2 minutes after we'd stopped and a sense of normality had kicked back in. The girls were, as you might imagine, hysterical and very badly shaken, but barring a few bruises from seat belts, a bit of higher blood pressure and pulse. They were fine. Hellsbells and myself held it together at the scene and called the police and ambulance as a precaution. In a typically French manner, Monsieur Merde sat in his cab and lit a cigarette.

The Highways Agency officers arrived after 10 minutes and stopped the traffic whilst I drove the car off the front off the lorry and parked it alongside the hard shoulder rather than across it. They kindly took the details and helped sort he incident out, but did you know this? Unless there is a fatality, or serious injury then the police no longer turn up at such major accidents. That's right, the fuckwit coppers who are only too happy to turn up at your side if you do 45 in a 40 zone, can't be fucking arsed to come out to a major accident where either one of the drivers might have been guilty of a crime, perhaps in Monsieur merde's case his tachograph might have shown excessive travel time, or maybe he'd just knocked an aperitif back. Irrelevant, because no-one seemed badly hurt. I can hardly wait until the time a copper pulls me up on a minor driving infringment.

Get this as well. Despite the reasonable amount of traffic, not one person stopped to offer help or witness the incident. Not one. Well, maybe one person did. A french lorry driver in an act of understandable camaraderie stopped to help his compatriot. But did anyone stop to witness for us? No. How the fuck could people have witnessed this and not stopped. How could they have known there were no serious injuries? The Great British Fuckwit, Sun reading, I'm alright Jack pull up the ladder, greedy, self obsessed society showed its' true colours on Saturday. Thatcher was right, there is no such thing as society. She killed it.

The paramedics were fucking excellent as one expects. Calm, reassuring with an attitude of nothing being too much trouble. I thanked them profusely for helping Pie and Kid, especially as Pie was close to passing out through the shock.

As for the car, well badly smashed down the passenger side, all four tyres were taken back to the metal banding. Remember this car is less than a month old and had 800 miles on the clock. That's a lot of new tyre tread to burn though. But, that car didn't flip, didn't spin, didn't buckle. It held the road superbly considering the force it was under. It saved our lives.

SEAT - your little car is a fucking miracle. Luck may have played a part, but so must the design and construction iof the car. 10 years ago, or even in our previous 'second' car the awful Vauxhall Meriva, we'd have been dead. and Grocerjack would really have been unable to 'get off his back, go to town and not let them down. Oh no.'

Later, GJ

Doomed?

Hello, are you all still there? Good, so the world didn't end today, although philosophically speaking who can categorically state it ever existed? Some Cartesian philosophy is always a good thing midweek.

Apparently kids have been panicked into thinking today is the day it all ends. The subject of the Large Hadron Collider switch on today has, if nothing else, diverted us away from the never ending gloom on the weather and economy.



What I do find amusing is that the press are quick to jump on the bandwagon with lurid tales of destruction and doom which of course to the less educated or discerning immediately become fact! Others then quickly don their hair shirts and straw sandals to whine on about what a waste of money the whole thing is and wouldn't the money have been better off spent building hospitals. I've posted enough before about the do gooders who would build a world full of good causes and never would we see such technological marvels as Concorde, The Space Shuttle or the
Channel tunnel. Sometimes we have to build the follies as a way of stretching what we know.

Any good that comes from these things may be unwitting, but surely it's better than the risk averse return to caveman world the do-gooders want. I think great discoveries have often come from experiments designed to discover or theorise on something else.

Anyway, I have my own theory. The Universe was created from the Big Bang.

The Big Bang occurred after the occupants of the previous Universe switched on their Large Hadron Collider.

The late, great Douglas Adams would have been proud.

Later GJ

Back to the Gloom

Well, that's the annual one over for another year. I could have been very creative and write loads whilst away, but basically couldn't be arsed. The OU stuff suffered a bit as well, so its head down for the next few weeks, meaning posts could be sparser than of late. My exam is 13th October after which I will once again be free from the shackles of seemingly interminable study.

Great holiday though, thanks for asking!

Later GJ

So that's it for a while, unless I get any creative urges on holiday. I'm semi-demob happy. I have a small domestic to sort once I arrive in that Kid wants to come home a week early to 'prepare for college' but this sounds a ruse to me. It seems to me that teenage hormones are starting to simmer, no doubt for her, but also for her 'boyfriend' the now regenerated 'Mini Me'.That's regenerated as in going from 4 foot fuck all to an inch or two taller than me in 18 months. I'd still win the fight though! Anyway, me....leave a teenager in the house for a week? Alone? She has two chances, Slim and None, and Slim just rode out of town.

I had a quiet birthday though. Thanks for asking. It means a lot. A few cards and texts and a few e-cards as well. Nice to know people remember these things. I actually got my present last week the day after they all went to The Money Pit, but started using it from Friday after the new car turned up. Its a Pure Highway in car DAB radio device. It took less than 10 minutes to install, just an aerial and windscreen mount needed putting in place. As I switched it on I braced myself to expect yet another piece of worthless, junk Technology that promised loads and delivered nothing.

Just for once I was proven wrong. This fantastic little device worked immediately. It seeks out a spare unused FM frequency for you, then displays which one to tune your car radio to. When you do this, the words Pure DAB show up in the car radio display (if you have RDS) and hey presto, Planet Rock in crystal clear stereo! I drove in today for the first time in the new car and 'Planet Rocked' all the way. I can get all the DAB stations pretty well, but they all drop at one point on the route for about 30 seconds, but then this is in the middle of bloody nowhere, and with DAB coverage running at around 80% of the country it will occur from time to time. If the FM frequency becomes busy as you move around the country then a single press finds a new one and you simply retune to that. So, after a few minutes of Breakfast on 5 Live, harping on about the bloody Olympics, I decided to kick start my day with Planet Rock and was treated to the delights of Bad Company, The Clash, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd and Metallica. Music to get the heart started!

I waited for years to hear Radio 1 in FM when the BBC was dragging its feet on rolling it out on FM. By the time it came I was too old for the station. I had hopes that the former incompetent QUANGO, The Radio Authority (now OFCOM) would give Virgin an national FM frequency so I could hear something other than Boy/Girl Bands and Dance rubbish. But no, they decided the 'adult' music market was already well served by the travesty of broadcasting that is local commercial radio. My previous posts on the state of UK radio say it all. It's Pop, Classical or Talk if you wanted national FM coverage. Well, DAB Radio does away with that, as does Internet radio. Anything that weakens OFCOM is good in my view. Radio is too safe and bland in the UK.

Anyway, take it from me, this device is a superb piece of kit and Pure deserve all the plaudits for finally putting an in-car DAB option out to market at a reasonable price (£55 on Amazon).

Anyway, that's it for now, apart from one comment about George W Bush berating China for it's record on Human Rights. Apparently he's not happy that they lock up dissidents and suppress religion.

George, two things. Guantanamo Bay and the victimization of declared Atheists in your own back yard. America, land of the Free? Not for a very long time George.

Pot....kettle anyone?

Later, GJ

Signs of Ageing, pt 2

Just a few observations......

1.) Every day something else aches.

2.) Your wife and kids go away for a week and you eat sensibly and don't go to the pub every night even though you could!

3.) You get up at 7 in the morning when you're NOT working. Even after going to the pub!

4.) There are an increasing number of things that bring a tear to your eye making you look like a soppy old sod. Which of course you are!

5.) Radio 1 is a form of torture.

6.) You can no longer keep time with your air guitar or air drums.

7.) Big Brother makes you reach for the off switch.

8.) A whole night of sleep without getting up for the loo seems a distant but fond memory.

9.) You tut at people who play their music loudly in cars, despite still doing this yourself. Its their choice of music that's the issue of course.

10.) Sex scenes on TV make you leave, or want to leave the room.

11.) You buy clothes because they make you look slim, are comfortable and because you think they make you look younger.

12.) And because they're cheap. Good value. Sensible. Practical.

13.) You never go to the Doctor about just ONE thing any more.

Today is my birthday. I am 47. Fourty-bloody-seven.

Hellsbells, Kid and Pie are sunning themselves in The Money Pit whilst I go to work.

The first flecks of grey in the goatee have been spotted by me, after kidding myself they were blonde. Spartacus, the youngest in my team yesterday asked me how old I was. I'm 3 years younger than her Dad for fucks sake! She then asked me if I colour my hair and was incredulous when I told her I don't. And I genuinely don't! Its still light brown to fair depending on how sunny it is. Is this fact about my hair being 'au naturelle' going to become a surprise to everyone as I .....ahem....mature?

I'm off on Friday for my annual mega-stint at The Money Pit. We have wi-fi there now so who knows, I might get to post a thing or two.

Or maybe not.

Later, GJ