I'm Not From Round Here

I had a day off work today (more of which later) and spent the day visiting old haunts and elderly relatives, namely my previous town of residence and my Grannie.

My first failed port of call was Tescos. Now I had been told that it was shut for 6 months for refurbishment but this fact had slipped my mind. It had still slipped my mind when I drove up to the boarded up building and gaily tried to drive into the boarded up car park. I do worry about myself sometimes.

“Can I help you dear?” said a man coming towards me.

“Oh, they must have new car park attendants” I thought

“Yes I’m trying to get into Tesco”.

“The store’s closed dear. You’ve got a long wait. We don’t open again for another 6 months.”

“Oh Dear” I said, somewhat embarrassed. “Erm I don’t come from round here so I didn’t know, sorry”

“Don’t worry you’re not the only one who has done the same thing” I’m sure he lied.

I feel that it may have been more truthful to state that not only was I not from round here but I was in fact from the moon. Far more accurate.

My next attempt at finding an open shop was the second hand bookshop, near my old flat, which I used to visit on a regular basis. On approaching, the first thing I noticed was the dog, a real live Jack Russell, sitting in the window of the shop. Showing excellent business sense, he or she wagged his/her tail whenever a customer came into the shop and barked to scare away any other dogs who approached. Obviously other dogs were serious competition to his bookselling business.

The shop itself was, as usual, in wonderful disarray. It is possible that at some time far in the distant past there was a system of books on subject classified shelves, but that had long since vanished and now books were liberally strewn all over the floor in and out of poly bags with the lucky ones finding shelf space wherever there was room. You must be prepared to spend a good couple of hours in the shop, scrabbling among shelves and on the floor, dodging angry spiders undisturbed for years as you search for a hidden gem which in all probability, and with a lot of patience, you will undoubtedly find.

The human equivalent of the Jack Russell was an animated chap behind the counter. As a small digression it was impossible to actually reach the counter as there were so many books on the floor in front of it. On purchasing a book you had to lean over all the books tossing the book you wanted onto the counter, careful not to trip up as you left.

The shopkeeper had either led an interesting life or had pilfered his interesting life out of one of the many books in his shop. It appeared that he was wanted by the CIA, the FBI, MI5 and various other intelligence agencies in relation to shady work which he had done some twenty years ago. I listened intently because some part of me warned that to show disbelief could prove dangerous. I bought a couple of books and made a hasty exit.

Next, it was off to my Grannie’s for lunch. It would appear that whenever I visit my Grannie we have fish and chips, either from the chippie or Tesco’s. Today was the Tescos option brought to us by the second Tesco that the town is “fortunate” enough to have. We always have tons of tomato ketchup on our fish and chips which is great because when mum and dad visit they don’t approve of tomato ketchup so we miss out. Aren’t we just big kids?

We spent the afternoon rambling about the nearby dams and watching the wildlife (swans, pewits, curlews, swifts) and trying to avoid the seagulls who make it their mission to pelt any hapless humans who come under their flightpath.

Then it was hometime. Having loaded up with sucky sweeties to accompany me I set off. My journey was slightly delayed by a tractor which appeared to be doing about 60mph in the field it was in, hurtling over just in time to pull out of the said field in front of my car where of course it slowed down to 10mph all the way home.

And there we must leave it. Holiday and day out over, it’s back to work tomorrow. Could be worse, at least it’s Friday.

Absolute Friends

I have just finished reading Absolute Friends by John Le Carré. I don’t tend to read a lot of spy novels but thought that I would give this one a try. I thoroughly enjoyed it but would have to say that I was at a loss to understand what was going on for much of the time. This is, you understand, not a fault of Le Carré but a fault of mine. As far as I can ascertain the two main characters were not only spies but double agents and I believe double agents twice over unless I’m much mistaken. Does this make them quadruple agents? Then there were a host of other supporting characters who may or may not have also been spies and who may or may not have been double crossing them. Then there were the various shadowy groups that they were spying for, along with the multitude of ideologies supported and denounced which I think may or may not have been the reason for the spying taking place to begin with. Or perhaps not. (Phew!) Add to this not one but two love interests pertaining to one of the lead characters and some evocative descriptive passages and you have a great novel, just one which I struggled to follow from beginning to end. Is it just me as I fear it may be?

To be fair, by the end I was beginning to understand a bit more of what was going on, with the book’s denouncement of the war in Iraq and comment on the media portrayal of terrorism (I think). By that stage, however, it was a bit late for our two slightly hapless heroes but I will say no more in case you haven’t read it. If you haven’t read it you really should. It is a good book despite my confusion. As I’ve said, I think it’s just me.

Well things could be worse. I did finish it and I didn’t get past the first page of Ulysses, but anyone who claims to have finished that one is clearly lying.

The Frontline of the War on Terror

Hearing last weekend that Glasgow Airport had been a terror target was bad enough. I didn’t think that things could get any more scary. And then they did. It was reported on the news that the terrorists had been holed up only a few streets away from my very house. Not to diminish the sentiments of my previous post on the subject, but after that things took on a rather surreal edge.

No sooner had my village and county of residence been horrendously mispronounced on News 24 than R. called me in somewhat of a panic.

“Have you been evacuated?” she started, and then

“Is there a bomb in your house? I always thought that your neighbours were a bit strange. It’s them isn’t it? “

I tentatively peered out of the window, but seeing no policemen, vans, sniffer dogs or crime scene tape felt that it was safe to assume that the terrorists had not made my street their base. I advised R. of this and she rang off not sounding entirely convinced.

Of course the terrorists in their “wisdom” had decided to make another small street in my village their base. In a way it does make sense. We are extremely close to Glasgow Airport and so quiet that the last thing you would expect here would be a terrorist cell. They had obviously done their homework on us which is, in itself, pretty terrifying.

Of course it was the talk of the village and everyone laughed. It was the sort of dark, tension filled humour that is used at times of great stress just to stay on the recommended side of sanity. The only people not present were those who lived in the same street as the terrorists as they were not allowed to leave their homes. Mind you I did hear of someone nipping out a back way and shimmying under police tape to get away for an appointment.

Later on, out of sheer nosiness I took myself along to the street in question. There didn’t appear to be any fear in the air, only a strange sort of exhilarating excitement amongst those watching the scene. Reporters and cameramen sat at the end of the street in an expectant manner, with police crime scene tape indicating demarcation zones. Policemen went in and out of houses but didn’t give anything away. A Glasgow Cabbie bringing Japanese reporters told anyone who cared to listen about how he knew the real story. Of course being a Glasgow Cabbie he knew so much more about the incident than the police or the intelligence agencies. (Or maybe he actually did!) Most of the village also turned out and waited in the same expectant manner until about lunchtime when hunger pangs drove all but the most hardy (and those who had brought their picnics for an interesting day out) away. I noticed a couple of the local girls hanging about. No doubt to attract the attention of one of the hunky policemen on duty.

I returned home to a strange tranquillity. I cooked bolognaise sauce as next door’s cat lazily dozed in the front garden and birds gossiped in the trees. It was difficult to imagine that terror had been so close at hand.

Catching Up

Well that’s me caught up on all the action since I’ve been away. I’m off now to write some more posts.

See you soon.

An Uneasy Truce

Hooray! It would appear that I have success in IT related matters.

The modem and the PC are now talking to each other again, with the PC promising not to nag as much and the modem promising not to criticise the PC’s driving skills.

Things are looking up and long may it continue. Thanks for all your messages while I’ve been “down” and I’m now looking forward to visiting you all and finding out what I’ve been missing.

I'll Be Back

I may be away for a couple of days as my modem and my PC are no longer talking to each other. They have been sent to marriage guidance counselling (aka the local PC repair shop) to try and resolve their differences. I therefore have very limited access to IT equipment but will be back as soon as hostilities have been brought to a peaceful resolution.

Glasgow Airport

When terrorism comes to only a few miles from your door (and potentially even closer according to some news reports) it does tend to bring it home somewhat.

I have nothing particularly eloquent or intellectual to say on the subject of terrorism but there is nothing particularly eloquent or intellectual about smashing a burning car into an airport terminal full of families with young children going on holiday. The only blessing is that no-one was killed.

Can you imagine the utter panic and terror of the people inside the terminal? Can you imagine how you would explain the unfolding events to the children present? What sort of warped mind conceives and plans these atrocities?

We can only hope that Gordon Brown can succeed where Tony Blair has failed – to halt the cancerous spread of terror.