Adventures of a Cycle Path

I rode my bicycle today.  Now, many of you will not be at all surprised at that fact given that I am quite keen on doing so.  Today, however, there were a couple of notable differences.

Firstly, I was riding on the road on my mountain bike.  Well, I say mountain bike, 15 years ago when I bought it, it was certainly classed as a mountain bike but your average spotty teenager will now look at and go "Pfffft, you call that a mountain bike?"  Well, let me tell you young trendy person, it may have smooth(ish) tyres and no suspension but this used to win proper mountain bike races, you know the sorts where you have to pedal not just point the shiny suspension downhill and it is still (more or less) original and still going strong and probably weighs half as much as your £70 Asda super special that you can't put together properly.

Second piece of unusualness is that I was riding at night.  I recently bit the bullet and bought a set of LED lights, the rear is capable of many a pretty Knight Rider formation (although I prefer the solid 'on' option), the front light more akin to a white (with a hint of blue) laser that will burn your retinas out if you look in to it for more than a second or so.

Thirdly, and most surprisingly and, indeed the main thrust of today's blog, is that I decided to take a very leisurly bimble and use the cycle paths and other assorted shared facilities that Gloucestershire County Council have kindly provided.  Sit comfortably and allow me to regale you with three incidents in the space of no more than a mile that must convince you that such facilities are truly a crap idea.
First, I cross Eastern Avenue, an urban dual carriageway with a toucan crossing (so named because two can cross, I kid you not) that is, of course, designed for cyclists and pedestrians alike.  Reaching the other side, I join a shared use path as indicated by a sign a bit like this.  I also join a young woman complete with a hoard of about 40 kids.  I don't have a bell (I'm far too much of a rebel) so I give a polite "Excuse me".
"You shouldn't be on the fookin' path"
"Excuse me, but you will find this is a shared path"
"Yerbut you're still on the path"
"The shared pedestrian and cycle path.  There's a clue in the name there"
"Well just be more fookin' careful in future"
"Trust me, in future, if the circumstances dictate, I shall show all necessary care.  Good day."

A few hundred metres further on and the shared facility changes to the type where there is a line down the middle doing a jolly poor job of segregating cyclists and pedestrians.  I encounter two older ladies walking the same way as I am travelling, not proper old but definitely older than me.  I, good, law abiding fellow I am, am cycling on the designated cycling half of path as is one of the aforementioned ladies, her companion on the pedestrian bit.  I'm not particularly perturbed by this but, in the absence of a bell, give another jolly "'scuse me" on my approach.  Initially, no response.  A good 20 metres away, I give another call "'scuse please".  At which point, right hand lady turns to see me, grabs her comanions arm and, quite theatrically, drags her out of my way apologising profusely.  Dragged lady, places hand to heart saying "Goodness, I wasn't expecting anyone on a bike."  Not vindictive, so gave a cheery wave, and bit my lip "shouldn't walk on the bloody cycle path then" stayed under my breath.

Finally, I come towards the point where I need to cross the road again.  There is one car on a kilometre stretch of road approaching from the direction of the far carriageway.  I choose a point to cross where there is a small traffic island and stop on it, half way across the road waiting for the aforementioned car to pass.  But no.  The dick stops the car right alongside the island, impeding my progress, to enable the kiddy in the passenger seat to alight.  Which he did in a painfully slow manner.  Heaven forbid any kids should have to walk any further than necessary.

So what have I learnt today?
Well, nothing if truth be told.  It has, however, reinforced my firmly held belief that the only place to cycle is the road.  And I may by a bell.  Or an airhorn.

Happy Anniversary

Those of my readership that were avid readers of Russ' Redundancy Blog will notice the significance of today's date, assuming you read this on the day that it was written.  Also assuming that I post it on the same day I started writing (not always the case).  Today, as I write is 28th August 2010.  It is exactly one year since I was unceremoniously bundled out of  made redundant from Vertex.  I know, time has flown by and, on the whole, I have rather enjoyed the last year.  
Naturally, a year ago I was commuting to Cheltenham every day (more or less) at rush hour (more or less) and I have less than fond memories of spending best part of an hour schlepping the ten miles between Gloucester and Cheltenham only to find the car two milliseconds ahead of me was taking the last parking space.  A couple of days ago, though, I again had to drive to Cheltenham at a similar time of day.  The night before and into the morning we had some quite significant rainfall and, as a result, the local radio traffic news reported that Shurdington Road (my preferred route) was covered in standing water, stacked with traffic and passable "with care".
Bugger.
It's times like this when one has to bite the bullet and make a carefully considered decision.  Or at least a wild guess.  Which way to go?  If you are local, you will remember when Gloucester imitated Atlantis for a week or so a couple of years back.  In fact, if you live in the area, you won't forget it because it is probably still the most discussed topic in the local rag.  It is to the Gloucester Citizen what immigrants are to the Daily Mail or Royal conspiracies to the Daily Express.  It is easy lazy journalism.  It brings to mind a discussion I had with an eminent resident of Gloucester some time ago that went along the lines of:
Me "Yes, I saw that story in Citzen" (sorry, don't remember the story in question)
Him "Indeed, finally a real story."
[Polite laughs]
Him (continuing: "In fact the last few days the paper hasn't been too bad" [pause for effect] "I think the editor may be on holiday.
I digress.  The point is, I had images of Shurdington Road looking like it did on that day.  More reminiscent of a river than a road.  But, I decided that maybe people would heed the warning and stay away.  It was in fact, possibly the quickest weekday journey I have ever made to Cheltenham.  There was no traffic and the "standing water" had obviously cleared away remarkably quickly - there was barely a puddle.  My brake pedal was as redundant as I became that day 12 months ago.

Teaching to cycle or drive

I ride a bicycle.  In fact, I ride a bicycle quite a lot.  If you have read my other blog you will be aware that I ride my bicycle sometimes for long distances and on roads that are quite busy and sometimes have lots of scary traffic on them.  In addition, everybody in our household also rides a bicycle and we rather enjoy it.
Last weekend, we went shopping to Tesco in the car.  Not unremarkable, it happens most weekends.  And, in common with many weekends we got home and said "bugger, just look at all this stuff we forgot to buy".  Totally undeterred, I decided to link the idea of riding my bicycle with collecting the other stuff from Tesco.  My daughter, Victoria (aged 9) came with me on her very funky, recently acquired 1980s proper girls pink Raleigh 'racer'.  Being quite the demon cyclist, it seemed appropriate to give her a little coaching on going round roundabouts so I chose the one that leads on to Tesco at Quedgeley as it isn't terribly busy and the exit before ours is a bit blocked because of the traffic lights holding up the traffic.  We take the proper approved Highway Code route for the learner or nervous cyclist, round the outside, only to be cut up by a woman (yes, really, I'm not just being sexist) going nowhere into the stopped exit.  We took evasive action, there was no drama but I did suggest to the lady that she ought to look where she was going.  She retorted "You should be wearing a helmet".
Now, I do own a helmet.  It is 15 years old and immaculate.  I don't want to do the whole helmet argument here except to say that until that moment, I was firmly with the no to helmet legislation camp.  I have now learnt my lesson.  There I was thinking they were a pretty useless lump of polystyrene but no.  I have learnt the error of my ways.   This woman has taught me a valuable lesson.  They are - Harry Potter eat your heart out- a reverse invisibility cloak.  She couldn't see me without one.
This could have so many ramifications.  Imagine those times when you are stood at the bar for hours waiting to be served, you must be invisible - wear your cycle helmet, the bar staff will now see you no doubt.  Although the bouncers may see you first.

In other news, I am still learning to teach people to drive.  I have now had some 24 hours tuition with my instructor (and now Facebook friend) Dave.  Dave obviously isn't invisible.  He has a whole digital TV channel named after him.  The training is invaluable.  I need forty hours before I am allowed to apply for my trainee instructor licence and start teaching but without this excellent tuition I would be stuffed.  Dave is a good chap and an excellent tutor, we do have a similar sense of humour, possibly borne out of a common geekiness.  The training, make no bones about it, is hard work.   Don't think you could go to a training company, pay your fee and be an instructor, it just won't work.  I think I have forgotten or at least take more for granted about how to drive than I could have known before a couple of weeks ago. 
All this talk of invisibility puts me in mind of one of my instructing faux pas.  I will say "Be aware" or "mind out for" that pedestrian.  To Johnny learner one needs to be far more explicit "Be ready to slow, stop or change direction for the pedestrian in case they walk into the road"
My instructor goes to great lengths to point out that you can be 'aware' of aforementioned pedestrian as they bounce off your bonnet, the roof and land in a heap behind you.  Still, it's their own fault.  They should wear a helmet so we, the motorist, can see them.

Next time you are doing a three point turn or reversing into a parking space, try and pretend you are teaching someone that has never tried it before.  Still, hopefully, watch this space, we should be up and running soon enough so, if you're after some high quality driving instruction it shouldn't be long now.

It's a sign

Might I apologise to all my loyal readers that it has taken me so long to write the latest instalment of my blog.  I have had trouble with my creativeness.  I put this down to writer's block.  My brother suggests constipation.  From which, he may be inferring I am full of sh*t.

You may be aware that between my bicycle and driving, I am quite a regualar road user.   As such I have recently noticed a few signs on my travels that make you think, whether for good or for bad.

First thought is how useful are road signs really?  During my driving instructor lessons, to test my observance of the road, my instructor would, on occasion, ask what the last road sign we passed was.  The number of "dunno" and similar responses suggests that they are largely ignored.  So what would happen if we got rid of them all?  I'm not alone in thinking this.  Much research from such august organisations as the AA (that's Automobile Association not the one my brother ought to know) and RAC has suggested that we are bombarded with them.  Apart from that, it can ruin some of the scenery that we all gaze at while we are driving.  Then of course, there is the simple fact that we haven't really got a clue what they mean.  If they were that simple we wouldn't need the Highway code book of signs and have to be tested on them before being allowed to drive.

However, I want to concentrate on a couple of signs that I rather like.  

If you travel around rural Enland, you will, inevitably, see the sign "Please drive carefully through our village"..  Damn.  there I was planning on driving like a nutter at warp factor 3 and you've ruined my fun.  Now I have to be careful.  Sneaky little thing though.  Doesn't say what to be careful of.  Is it just the kids on their way to school walking in the middle of the road or do you have snipers ready to take out the stranger?  Then, at the end of the village you are met with the sister sign "Thank you for driving carefully".  Aah, how do you know I did?  Maybe I did drive like a nutter and left carnage in my wake.  Or maybe we were just lucky.  You'll never know....

Then there is the No Motor Vehicles sign.  You know the one, a motor bike above a car.   I still wish that sign meant no motorcycle stunts or Evel Knievel banned.

Have you driven through a ford?  I mean, of course water across the road not another car.  On the other side, there is often a sign that says 'Test your brakes'.  Wise counsel.  However, you may want to take a quick glance in your mirrors first.  You don't want to force the driver behind to test his.

I know it isn't a proper Highway Code recognised sign, but I would like to know what the purpose of the "Baby on Board" sign that people stick in the back of their car is.  I can only think of a couple of reasons.  Have you ever been driving behind a car and thought "I know, I'll just ram into the car in front for a laugh" then had your plan scuppered when you saw that they have a baby?  No, nor me.  But you never know.  The other possibility is that the gentleman of the car is desperate to prove that the tackle is all in working order.

Finally, I'm sure you're all thinking "What's going on with Russ learning to be a driving instructor".  Well, a couple of weeks ago, I met my new instructor.  A fine chap by the name of Dave and we had our first lesson. It's surprising just how much you take for granted, right from putting the seat belt on.  This is pretty much how my first mock lesson, how to adjust your seat went.  You'll get an idea of the level of maturity:
After getting Dave to adjust the seat forward and backward, we discuss the rake of the seat, or the angle of the back:
"Put your hand to the right of the seat, there is a large knob you turn to change the angle".
We move on to the adjustment of the head restraint (never, ever refer to it as a head rest):
"Press the knob on the side of the headrest and it goes up and down.  There's a couple of knobs in the car".

It's hard to take things too seriously.  Part two and three are coming up this week.  I'll let you know if we grow up in the meantime.

The results are in...

It's taken me ages to write this blog.  As my regular readers and friends will be aware, I didn't pass my first attempt at the driving instructor part two test.  On the first of March, I retook the test and passed.  Hurrah, cause for celebration and all that.

That's it.  That could be the end of the blog.  When you fail something it becomes a talking point.  What did you fail on?  When are you going to retake?  Most of the answers you could just record and replay.

Then there are the platitudes.  "I'm sure you'll do better next time", "Never mind, the best drivers pass second time", "Well, they've got their allocation they must have passed enough already".  All of course are a complete horses arse and have no basis in truth.  Still, that's the joy of a well aimed platitude, why let the truth get in the way of a good cliché?


But no.  I passed.  No questions, no platitudes, just celebration.  But that's not it.  After the test is over you sit in the car with the examiner who is now your best friend and he still insists on tearing you to shreds.  Although in my case, he probably has a point.  You may remember (or know) that to pass the instructor part two there is a maximum of six minor faults.  failed test, I had seven (d'oh), passed test, wait for it.... SIX.  So he tears me to shreds, or rather, gives me the debrief.


"Lets start with your reverse park"
"Crap wasn't it?"  I know I can reverse park and I can do it well.  However for my test I made a complete hash of it.
"Not how I would put it, but essentially, yes"  That accounts for two points.  It would be difficult to get more points for a single manoeuvre.
"You were too close to the maroon car on the motorway.  You weren't going fast enough on the approach to the roundabout.  You should have overtaken the other car etc, etc, etc"  And so it went on.


"But I've passed?"
"Yes"


It took as long to talk about my relative failings when I passed as it did when I didn't.  If you get what I mean.


Still, as I write today, it could be much worse.  A friend of mine who was scheduled to take it today was turned away.  The instructors were on strike.  That sucks.

If the devil were made incarnate, he would drive a bus.

A while ago I was watching a bloke on telly talking about the evils of driving big cars, especially 4 wheel drives.  The general gist of the article was to persuade us all to travel by public transport or to buy a teeny tiny car powered by 3 AA batteries.

And do you know what?

I think I am a convert.

No, please don't be mistaken.  This chap was completely 100% wrong.  He converted me to the idea that driving and especially driving big cars is a good thing.  I used to feel guilty about driving my 8 seat people carrier with just me in it.  But no more.  I imagine the majority of my readership drive.  I do.  And I drive a big car on occasion.  In fact, from time to time I stick a monster great caravan on the back and pull that as well.  Gross combined weight about 5 tons.  And yes, I do happily hold up other traffic  by not being in a particular hurry.  And it is a good thing.  Why is it such a good thing?  Because I can do it when I want to do it from where I want to leave to where I want to go.  If I had an electric car, even if it would pull the caravan I would have to stop and recharge the battery for about 12 hours every 20 miles or rely on the addition of a petrol engine and I already have one of them.

Alternatively, you could travel by train.  I remember sitting on Gloucester train platform one very early morning when an announcement came over the crackly loudspeaker:

"We are sorry to inform you that the 6:52 to Newcastle has been cancelled"

That's it, end of announcement and a couple of blokes shuffled away.  Of course you're not sorry Mr announcer.  You weren't going to catch that train.  What would you do?  The next train is several hours away and it's a long way.  If you had driven the journey is unlikely to be cancelled.  Add to that the train costs about £250 each.

I don't know about where you live, but on the back of Gloucester buses there is a sign that says "One day Bus travel £2.50.  4 hours car parking £5".  Or something like that.  Now, there are 5 people in my household.  That would be £12.50.  And it will leave not when I want to but at some vague time related or not to the timetable.  I will be guaranteed a grumpy driver and not a seat.  It will be dirty and smelly and stop every 20 yards holding up the traffic behind it.  Chances are it will be a rough ride and desperately uncomfortable.

I shall sign off now.  Grumpfest over and wait for the hate mail from the Green party and associated carrot crunchers.  Politically correct I may not be, but I'm bloody sure I can get where I want to go when I want to go there.

Nerd, Geek

Before I start today's blog, I need to make an addendum to my last blog.  If you read the comment, you may be wondering about the comment Darrel left.  If this is the story that I suspect it is, it goes back several years. 
I received a call from a conservatory sales company in the days when I was young and too polite to tell them to piss off straight away.  The chap was not taking no for an answer so I invited him to come round and measure up, quote me and whatever else they do.  When he arrived, he was quite cross with me.  He seemed to think I was wasting his time.  Why would he think that?  I lived in a first floor flat at the time.  I never did get my quote.

The purpose of this blog, however, is to share one of my fears with you.  I fear I may be a nerd.  It may be something genetic or an illness I picked up some time.  Try as I might, my nerdiness seems to surface whatever I do.  I may need help.

Why this dilemma?  As you know, I was made redundant from a proper techy nerd type job and company and vowed never to get back into the IT business.  As a result, I am doing some very non-IT related stuff.  Training as a driving instructor and working for a property landlord.  Doesn't get much less techy, just what I wanted.  However, a couple of weeks ago my boss approached me:

"Russ"
"Yes boss"
"According to your CV you've got a techy background"
"....yes...."
"I want someone to revamp the computer system across the office, bring it all in together.  You interested?"
Tricky one this.  From day one geek in me wanted to get in to the infrastructure, pull it out and rebuild it.  Now it's being offered to me on a plate but I want out of the IT industry.
"I'll give it some thought"

No Russ, you won't give it very much thought will you?  You know full well that you will do it.  And why will you do it?  Is it purely for the money?  Is it because you can't say no to your boss?  Of course not.  It is because somewhere deep inside no matter how hard I try there is a geek, a nerd trying to make himself known.  It is an addiction for which there is no cure.  No NHS quit geeking programme.  If you give up smoking, you can get patches and stuff to help wean you off nicotine.  You can get scripts to help withdrawal from hard drugs but there is no patch that leaks a bit of nerdiness into your blood stream to wean you off computers.
The rational me has had a go at justifying this.  I am not a nerd.  I am not a geek.  Of course, I am just doing someone a favour because I can aren't I?
I have started.  A good friend of mine, Tony is assisting.  I have identified a server and a few other components which are now on order and, do you know what?  I fear I'm quite enjoying it.  In fact, I'm rather looking forward to delivery day, not excited in a Christmas or birthday sort of way you understand.  But I know why I'm enjoying it over previous proper geek jobs.  It is a small company without acres of bullshit, I am, effectively my own boss and the only technical person on site and, to someone totally non-technical, anyone with any level of technical ability is revered as a god.

And that dear reader is the crux of the matter.  Geek to deity in one easy step.

I'll let you know how it goes maybe in this blog.  In the meantime, I'm considering renting myself out as rent-a-geek.

Charges and Chugging

In the comments of my last blog, Rant and I did briefly discuss the pleasures of the automated answering system which I then extended to paying for the pleasure of listening to the sodding thing by being forced to use the 0845 number that the company puts on the bill and correspondence.  You know the sort of thing:

"Thank you for phoning Faceless Insurance PLC.  Please listen to the following 97 options to choose the correct one.  It is important that you listen to every option as we will not make it possible for you to select the option you require until we have read v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y through every possible option and permutation of possible options from which you may, or may not, want to select.  Do not worry, you are only going to be paying 25p per second for this call and it will not last more than 2 hours.  Oh, and if you want to talk to a real person, then that really is tough shit.  Your call is very important to us."  Select option and wait 3 weeks for a response; all the time, of course, paying for the privilege.

These get up my nose for so many reasons.  I am not a kid, I have been brought up talking to people and aware that communication can be done direct with real people and talking unlike the majority of teenagers and the like that consider Microsoft messenger adorned with those bloody silly little faces and non words (lol) as conversation.  Apart from that, at their conception, 0845 numbers weren't such a bad thing.  Telephone call charging was dependant on whereabouts in the country you were calling, there was no such thing as a plan that included all your calls and 0845 was, I believe, charged at a flat local rate.  No more.   No, they will charge what they like and they can't be included in your phone any landline plan on a conventional or mobile that I am aware of.  However, there is some respite.  Public service that I am, if you are faced with an 0845, 0870 etc number, there is often a normal geographical number for it as well.  You could do worse than looking here.  You probably won't find your favourite purvy call line on there though.

One money making scheme I find even more irritating, however, are the people who stop you on the street to ask for money.  I don't mean real beggars I mean the plethora of charities and utilities companies that harangue you as you walk down the street and try to persuade you to sign up.  You can change your mind within 28 days, if you wish to do so, here is an 0845 number to ring to inform us.  Possibly one of the benefits of no longer working in Cheltenham is that I don't run the gauntlet at lunch time if I walk into town.  Cheltenham High Street must be the worst place in the world for these people.  You start of politely "No thank you" or "Sorry, don't have time".  After an hour of this and about 50 people approaching you, it gradually deteriorates into "Fuck off before I rip your arms off and shove your sodding clipboard where it will never be seen again".  Have you ever been chased by one?  I have.  Inside Regent Arcade, someone selling gas and electric:

"Excuse me sir"
"Sorry not interested" - I carry on walking, salesman follows.
"How do you know, you haven't heard what I am offering"
Still walking - "Nor do I care"
"But I could save you money on your bills".  I have increased my walking pace, the chap is almost jogging.
"Don't care, happy with my current supplier"  Still walking, he is still at my heels.
"Even if I could save you 10%?"
Stop.  "I'd rather pay an extra 100% than buy my sodding electric off a company that employs people like you"

But still, my all time favourite.  Animal lovers look away.  The anti-vivisectionists were out on force, armed with clipboards for petitions and shaky collection tins:
"Excuse me sir, could you sign our petition against animal testing and would you consider a small donation to help"
"No"
"Are you aware of the suffering animals are put through in the sake of research?"
"Yes, pretty much.  And if a few rats or whatever suffer and die so we can find a cure for life-threatening illnesses in humans I'm all for it"
"But even if you agree with that, innocent animals are suffering  for the sake of beauty products"
"Yes and better some rabbits eyes sting than mine or my daughter's when we wash our hair."

They do give up on you eventually.  Tina now bans me from talking to any chuggers and the like now.

Are you taking the pith?

To start my most recent blog, I would like to set my vast readership (Ian, Darrel), a challenge.  Can you peel an orange in one go?  I only ask because I can.  Well sometimes.  That and writing this post gives me an excuse to gratuitously use the word 'pith' which, of course, has it's own comedy value; but only if you are immature enough.  I enjoy the occasional orange particularly in my lunch box at work if for no other reason than any colleague that may not be in the office when I peel will inevitably ask "Have you been eating oranges?".   The smell will linger for hours if not days after enjoying the fruity Vitamin C laden treat.
However, my method of peeling the other day was called into question.   I don't know how you do it but I find a good way of loosening the peel from the fruit is to roll it on the desk first, thus separating the bit you eat and the bit you don't, get it right and the pith also comes away from the fruit and that's a good thing.  The pith, so far as I can see is pointless, you can't use it for zesting and you don't want to eat it as part of the flesh.  So, if you will take my advice, next time you eat an orange, give it a roll first.

So to the snow.  I have been trying to avoid blogging about this so far because everybody else already has and what else can I add?  Well, here's one thing, I'm quite proud of this here panorama of Gloucester from a jolly chilly top of Robinswood hill.

I strongly expect you are expecting me to waffle on for hours on end now about sledging and snowball fights with the kids.  Well I'm not.  Although we did take a trip up Robinswood Hill, leaving a poorly mummy wrapped up in bed, armed with some equipment not designed for sledging and that would have the Health and Safety Executive trembling with fear with; all the expected results except no trip to A&E.

Another thing you're probably expecting is for me to have a grump about the snow, well I'm going to disappoint you again.  I like the snow, it makes me happy.  However, I won't stop anyone else being grumpy and if you want some topics to get your grumpfest going, may I suggest:

1.  Other drivers.  Not me or you obviously, just everybody else either driving like a lunatic or at 6.3 mph on well gritted, clear roads with a little slush in the gutter.
2.  "Cold enough?", "Slippy enough?" etc.
3.  Local press.  The Citizen (that's the Gloucester local if you don't know) has turned over at least 99.8% of the paper to covering the snow.  Surely there's other news?  Damned lazy hacks.  Still, at least it has given us a rest from reading about the 2007 floods.
4.  Flood threats - Panic, quick phone the press, when this lot melts we're going to flood for sure.
5.  Schools/businesses closed.  I don't know or care if I have an opinion on these closures but it is a good topic for a seasoned grumpy.  When has a legitimate opinion made a difference?

Facebook group to scrap pointless groups?

Every now and then something will get up my nose and I just have to vent.  I'm not talking about sneezing because of dust or pepper now (although I did sneeze so hard on Monday I pulled a muscle in my chest and it hurt until Wednesday), I'm talking about those things that most people either don't notice or are capable of ignoring.  So what has got Russ grumpy today?

As I have previously moaned, the majority of the groups and stuff are about as pointless as Percy Pointless from Pointlessville who has broken the point off his pencil.  However, if you are one of the people that perpetrates this level of pointlessness, for the love of God and all that is holy get your spelling right.  Use a spell checker  or a dictionary.  I appreciate that we all make spelling mistakes (some people even make up whole words) but do you group makers not realise that by its very nature these groups may be viewed by tens of thousands of people worldwide whereas the spelling mistakes in my blog are read by about three people.  It makes you look really quite dense.  Even if I liked these groups I could not subscribe to something so blatantly wrong.

Here are some examples that recently popped up on my Facebook that other people had joined (spellings corrected in brackets):

'Morning glorys are embarrseing (embarrassing) when cuddling a girl after a nice night ;)' - The ;) is part of the group name; if you have any idea what it is, please use the comments thingy to enlighten me.

'Join this group and we could be in guiness (Guinness) world record 10,000,000 members'. - Guinness is a proper noun so needs a big G at the front as well as spelling.  And I don't expect the Guinness book of records would print all 10 million names anyway.

'THE OLD WINDMILL STAFF,REGULARS &COSTOMERS (customers)' - and please don't shout.

Another thing is the groups that make completely unsubstantiated claims.
Unless the group was created by the writers of Gavin and Stacey, then 'If 3 million people join gavin and stacey will do another series' probably makes promises it can't keep.
Similarly, 'If this gets 100,000 members then facebook will have themes' probably not sanctioned by Facebook (and I don't even understand what it means).
Did Cadbury really promise this? 'If we get more then 100000 members wispa will make there price to 30p'

Or maybe I'm missing some magic link.  I may start a group 'If three members join then my bank will deposit 1 million pounds into my account'.  Or 'If my blog has more than three readers I will be surprised'.

And a Happy New Year

So, that's more or less the end of another year then and, in the best of traditions it seems time for a little reminiscence on the past year, you know all the sort of stuff that will be filling the television schedules for the next couple of weeks except this is, shamelessly selfishly, all about me.  Well, it's my blog and I'll put what I want into it.

Starting off with the biggest change, who would have thought at the start of the year that now I would have been made redundant and doing something completely different?  I'll tell you who.  Me.  For the last god only knows how long, there had been regular 'team meetings' at Vertex.  Every time you were summonsed to one it was a sword of Damocles.  Possibly the most surprised people are those that weren't made redundant.  Add to which the fact that I worked with a number of people that were so grumpy that even I looked like Mr Happy at the Happyville convention for the foolishly happy and you have a rather bitter cocktail.  Now, taking destiny into my own hands, if it all does go horribly wrong I will have only me to blame.  Oh, and I won't have to suck up to anyone.

At the end of 2008, I had the plaster removed from my foot.  There was some concern as I had lost a significant amount of weight due to being incapacitated for some time.  Fast forward to the end of 2009, nothing in plaster but I have put on a significant amount of weight due to being an idle git.

I am also marking a whole year of being on Facebook.  It's a good job I haven't dedicated this blog to the changes that this has made to my life.  That would be the shortest blog in the history of the blogiverse.  Facebook has been an experience in some respect; previously, I was completely unaware of the amount of bollocks people could come up with that is of no interest or importance to anyone.  In short, Facebook is marvellous.  That's a  contradiction I hear you cry.  Well yes, I thank Facebook for giving me a whole new subject to be grumpy about.

I was quite heartened to read the other day that there has been a return to more traditional, in a manner of speaking, Christmas gifts for kids this year.  I don't mean wooden spinning tops or bilbo catchers.  In particular, it seems that Lego, a personal favourite of mine, is selling like hot cakes.  Or more accurately selling like a very popular toy.  So much to the point where the most popular sets are selling for multiples of their normal selling price on ebay.  Let's now look in stark contrast at the world's most chuffing ridiculous thing.  I'm sure that most people that know me are aware of my thoughts on games consoles so imagine my horror when I happened upon this monstrosity.  Follow the link to the web page mentioned in the article and it just gets worse.  Whatever your views on gadgets, surely this takes the proverbial biscuit?  It's enough to make even me grumpy.

Seeing as how this may well be my last blog before Christmas, that just leaves me to wish you all a very merry Christmas and hopefully we'll meet again in the New Year.

Busy blogging if nothing else

First let me introduce you to this, my shiny new blog.  Kind of like the second chapter.  Chapter 1, as you are no doubt aware was Russ' Redundancy Blog a roaring success with at least three readers.  Now I am less redundant, at least for Job Centre and government statistics purposes, a new chapter and a new blog title was needed so a competition was thrown to the wider populace and 'Grand Busy Scoundrel' was chosen as the winner.  Bucket loads of kudos to Mick Long for anagramisng[1] Russ' Redundancy Blog to come up with this here title what you can see now.  Although I have added my name to the start, in no small part in the hope that when I put my name into Google (other search engines are available) it will be listed.

This is where I will fill you in if you care to be filled in on my new working life, training to be a driving instructor which will, no doubt turn into Confessions of a Driving Instructor, general ramblings on life and observations all laced with a healthy sprinkling of grumpiness.

So, what have we been concerned with this week?  I shall tell you.  The Muppets.  By which, of course, I mean the most excellent 1970's onwards TV series and spin off's.  I'm sure many of you have seen the appeal for the Muppets version of Bohemian Rhapsody to beat the X-Factor drivel to Christmas number one.  Now, let me set my stall out; I really don't give a stuff who or what is number one for Christmas, it strikes me as an irrelevance but I must implore you to watch (just listening doesn't do justice) this superb production; you can do so here.  On a Muppet related note, Vic watched The Muppet Christmas Carol at school, another excellent production.  I felt the need to confirm my belief that Michael Caine played a supporting role as Scrooge and imagine my delight to find an interview with Dr Rowan Williams - Archbishop of Canterbury, you don't get much closer to the boss than this guy - listing this as one of his favourite films along with Andrei Tarkovsky's Andrei Rublev.  I'm sure they're very similar.

Last night I had a few beers with my brother (I refuse to be drawn to the obvious and call my brother a muppet here) and learnt a couple of things.  Firstly, dodgy pubs in dodgier neighbourhoods can be pretty good.  We were a little uncertain about the Pakend but what a cracking local boozer.  We did, however, leave when about 50 zealots came in to sing carols.  Please don't get me wrong, I love Christmas Carols and support the Christian view of Christmas but overwhelming a pub with half a dozen drinkers in doesn't strike me as best way to get your views over.

Secondly, drinking on a school night when you're pushing 40 is stupid.  I can't handle my drink and whilst not really drunk and didn't drink enough to suffer from a hangover this morning, bugger me was it difficult to get up for work today.

Finally, consider the scene, you see a bloke in a bar, you're sure you know him and can't place him.  Several things race through your mind; Do I owe him money? Have we met in very different circumstances that may compromise my professional integrity? Maybe I'm just plain wrong.  I start chatting and we decide that he used to drink at the very salubrious Northend Vaults some years ago when I was working the bar.  I'm not entirely convinced this is the case but at least he is going to be looking for a driving instructor in a couple of months.  Might be worth knowing that.

[1] Anagramising: -adj.  [an-uh-gram-ising].  To take a word or phrase and create an anagram that hopefully makes sense.  Apparently performed largely by project managers who obviously have far too much time on their hands.

(Extract from the excellent yet to be published (or even written) Russ version of the English(ish) dictionary)