Jeez.....Rough neighbourhood eh?

What is happening with this country?

The government purports to be so worried about terrorism, that it want us all to carry identity cards. I don't see how that's going to help prevent terrorism. And I see that some people refused to travel on a plane with other people who were Muslims because said Muslims were acting suspiciously. This is a bit worrying for me, being brown and the kind of person who always looks suspicious in airports. Admittedly the latter is because I have an extra bottle of duty free shoved down the front of my pants but it is rather worrying in the current climate of official paranoia.

The thing is, how would my carrying an identity card allay the suspicions of my fellow passengers in such an event as my being questioned at an airport by the anti-terrorism squad? It wouldn't, would it, unless on the card, in the box for profession it said 'not a terrorist.'

Well

I went for a walk today and pondered this and came up with the answer.

I'll just carry a half eaten pork pie in my pocket.

Sorted

Well hello there...

Just come back from celebrating, for want of a better word, my redundancy from the job I had. It's funny how when you mention redundancy, it's taken to be such a bad thing, and I guess in a way it is. For my part I choose not to see it as being a disaster. I see it as more of an opportunity. Okay so it may be an opportunity for us to live in a cardboard box if I don't get some work pretty quickly, but at least that will mean our council tax bill is somewhat reduced; and Lesley can cut down on the amount of housework she does; mind you, the garden will need a bit of extra work, but only because we'll be living in the park.

Actually, I do have a plan for future income but this will take a few months to come to fruition.

In the meantime... you can read this. I've made a few notes about what happened when we went away last week to Dorset, Wiltshire and Hampshire. I've called it Lesley & Geetan Go South. It involves Lawrence of Arabia, some hippies, Lord Horatio Nelson, some graveyards and an idiot with a laptop...

Click on the picture to read the story.

In case you're wondering where it is, it's the deck of the HMS Victory, the ship Admiral Nelson was killed on during the battle of Trafalgar

Why did he turn to crime? Nobody knows, except for the fact that he was never in trouble with the police before. Then one day, for some reason, he lost it; lost it big style. People said he’d been hanging around, hiding in the bushes, living in the local park. Admittedly, that isn’t unusual for a squirrel. The fact that he went postal and attacked several people is unusual.

I read the story in the paper a couple of weeks ago in the local paper and the story stuck in my mind, like these things do. My attention was caught by a line which said, ‘squirrel gave policeman a nasty nip.’ I wondered what a squirrel was doing handing around pictures of Emperor Hirohito before I realised the squirrel had in fact gone postal.

It was reported as having attacked a jogger who was running through the park. I expect he ran a lot faster when he suddenly discovered he had a mad rat with a pony tail attached to his arse.

After a couple of days with the squirrel on the rampage the police were called in. It took two of them to apprehend our furry felon, with an extremely long pair of tongs, normally used for catching mad dogs. They locked it away in the local police station, presumably in a little cell, while they waited for a vet to come and examine it. Possibly it had rabies. Personally I think it was on drugs; mainlining hazelnuts perhaps, or even snorting conkers.

It will remain idle speculation though, because the squirrel was found dead the next morning. The police say they have no idea why it died.

Fell, down the stairs, probably…

Chapter 8 of Geetan Goes is now on site. It's taking me longer to get it on site due to some stuff I'm in the middle of....do forgive.

For those of you who have yet to join us on our tour of Scotland, Chapter 1 is Here

When it came on the news that terrorists were using a liquid that would cause explosions, I thought they meant beer…

I mentioned a while ago that I was going on the march organised by the Stop The War Coalition.

Here is my experience of it

Peace Man

Apparently, jellyfish can stay venomous for 24 hours after their death. It’s hard to imagine something so stupid looking, and without a spine, being so dangerous.

Mind you, look at Dubya…

A lot of people are walking their dogs along the seafront which is nice. I do like dogs, usually, except for ones which seem like the manifestation of the owners psychosis; you know the one; the one where you’re not sure who should be wearing the muzzle; the dog or the owner. I also don’t like some of those tiny, bad tempered dogs either; the ones that look and sound like a rat with a barking cough.

There are also quite a lot of people flying kites. The kites are big, reminiscent of baby hang gliders. They swoop with alacrity, riding the wind as if it were rapids. I can see one chap from here being pulled along the beach on a skate board. At one point the wind lifts him off the board altogether and I fear he may be swept out to sea. At the last minute the wind drops and so does he, landing rather deftly on his feet.

It looks like fun, and at least, as a beach activity, it’s quiet. We were here not so long ago and there were people having a lot of fun on little motorbikes, up and down the seafront. When I see things like that, as I sit and read the paper and drink my tea, I always get the urge to take part in such jollities; and I would, if not for the fact I don’t have a bazooka to hand.

But that’s just me being grumpy. I’d much rather have a go on the kites. I used to tie a plastic bread bag to a piece of string and fly that when I was a kid. I also used to have a dog, which I may have mentioned before. I used to enjoy bringing him for walks, and even the odd run or two, and he used to enjoy taking a sudden turn across my path, making me fly through the air like Superman for all of two seconds before I underwent a sudden exfoliation on the tarmac as part of my beauty regime.

Small dogs particularly come to mind at this point, not that my dog was small. He was a cross between a collie and a bike. Well, of course I say bike, but only because the mongrel across the road used to try and hitch a lift, or so I thought as an eight year old. Now the small dog, which is yapping further down the beach is stopping me from closing my eyes and nodding off with the sun on my face; a sort of anti-nap yap.

I wonder what would happen if I tied it to one of those big kites? Quite possibly, I should nod off round about the time he passes over the oil rig I can see in the distance....