April 2010

Today is my father’s 86th birthday. I should have flown down on Sunday, but obviously could not, and left it too late to get any other transport I could afford. It is a shame not to be there, but I managed to get the vile Hewlet Packard F2480 to work and did him a card which he enjoyed.

Aircraft are moving again over bits of Britain, can I just point out that the BBC and other medias started reporting dissatisfaction with the whole way the farce has been handled, 4 four days I called NATS wankers. It is not just them, it is a society riven by fear and incapable of thought.

At least staying put has meant I can write and produce the show in a more relaxed manner than I would if I was hither and dither. Since Saturday I have stayed in and worked, without alcohol as well. At least I could relax through most of the day until I started getting my own little dust cloud. It is all to do with having to be in three places tomorrow, the most inconvenient t being the closest. A BCB interview fixed for 5.40; I did not fix it and one of the other critical things now has to be done in the evening; pushing the third thing into the evening as well.

On the plus side: today I finished a new piece The Lay of Saint, George, and his quest to slay a dragon. It’s in the ~style of Albert and the Lion, and not bad

Eeee. That were a day an all!

I was asked if I would be as angry about British airspace being closed if I was not booked to fly. The honest answer is yes, very much so, but I may not be expressing the anger quite so loud. Al-Qaeda hardly need to exist to destroy ‘Western’ civilisation. Overpaid women of both sexes will do it much more effectively if you give them power without responsibility; and that’s what NATS have.

Went to Otley to see Bev dancing with the Rainbow Morris troup. I enjoyed it so much I stopped for the second show, and gave up the chance of seeing City Vs Burton for a tenner. As a reward I got to meet Bev’s cats (and I saw some of her family). 15 year old Ziggey like me and not only laid on me when resting on the sofa, purring like a 2 stroke lawnmower, but came and tried to get close up and personal when I was trying to get the telly to switch to Dave.

On my way home I called in to the Lloyds in Shipley (and talked to a chef at the Wooly Sheep on Skipton, and the firery lass he was with). I then walk from town to the reopened Rafters. It is up for sale, but is being run by a temporary licensee. If you live local then you should pop in,

The is actually a lot not in the above, including the market trader who told me a shoe did not have steel toecaps; I pressed the back of the cap, told him he was bullshiting and walked off. I probably could have done more, but hey! It’s not as if I get angry very often.

British airspace is controlled by a private company called Nats, who have stopped all flights because of a cloud of volcanic ash from Iceland a lot less significant than Iceland produced in 92 (a few dozen cancellations), 63 ( a new island formed with head sized rocks being flung half a mile in the air) and at least two other occasions in the last 4 decades.

Nats (National Air Traffic Service) are yellow bellied, pus brained, gobshiting clowns that could not run piss down their own leg. Aircraft engines are far better able to survive ingestion than they were, even in 92, let alone 63. England, the new sulking home of cowardice, was the first to close airspace, I bet it will be the last to open it again. I would name the tosser who said planes had flown into dust clouds and not flown out (which is a contemptible lie, it is like saying trains have driven into fog and not driven out; there have been train crashes in fog; and maybe airline crashes in dust, but I cannot think of one, and I bet the wanker from Nats can’t either). The trouble is his name is now erased from the record, and the fart catching BBC are nothing if not rigid upholders of mandarin statement.

On my own matters I spent a lot of quality time on writing next weeks show; my definition of quality being that I both produced something, and enjoyed it (or at least did not feel ill for doing it).

Went to meet with TC Melodeon at Fanny’s to talk about the show. We got on right grand I I have a very good feeling about how it will go.

The important news is that dad was finally let out of hospital yesterday. Ma seems to be coping.

I had a meeting with Sam on Tuesday. It turned into a long session. I talked to John, a nice bloke I have know for, probably, 3 decades. I knew him from watching Bradford City. He lent me a season ticket so I could see that night’s game, Vs Morcambe, and ran off before I could force it back on him, so I had to go in order to return it!

I enjoyed the game, a 2-0 to City, and I was the only person near me not feeling freezing. I am sure it was the fleece and not the beer overcoat.

Thanks to Bev I have fixed up a melodeon player called TC for the Knight with St George Show.

The catching up of the last few days will follow in the next blog. This one is reserved for righteous anger.

The Hewlett Packard Deskjet F2480 is the worst printer I have ever owned. Build quality, printer performance, scanning abilities, software, noise, speed; every single one of those is worse than any inkjet I can remember.

The ‘advisor’ at my ‘restart’ interview last week failed to note I would be signing on in Crawley, and booked what he said was an interview at Bradford College today. It turned out that it was not an interview but the first day of a five day course, at least it would have been if a tutor had turned up to take it. Of the 30 or so people there not one in 5 knew it was for 5 days!

I did not take charge but I did go an demand something be done at the front desk, demanded they stick to their promises, and negotiated with the subcontracted woman, named on the letter, ‘who just books the rooms’, when she turned up.

Me and one other went down the Jobcentre at complain (though I had to go anyway to hand in a B7 and my fortnightly accounts). We had to wait around 30 minutes, got an apology but we did not get a chance to complain about the appalling way the Jobcentre had treated us in sending us without any information. I had no insulin and would have had to have left at lunchtime for a start.
Dad should be out of hospital tomorrow. I judge mum is well enough to cope.
I forgot to mention that I was interviewed by the BBC on Saturday morning. It was long and they asked me to name redheaded footballers for them to put photos to. I have no idea if they used any part of the interview.
I found out over the weekend that I have good hands and sweet breath (though that may be because of the diabetes) and that I snore regardless of whether I am on my back or side.

A fantastic and very tiring weekend.

I went down to Radio Leeds’ Bradford studio yesterday morning to Daragh Corcoran’s Saturday Morning Show to talk about The Great British Redhead Festival

. It was a good interview, and I played my 8 foot horn live on air, but the show is not on listen again, leastways not when I looked. If it gets put on I am 3 hours 15 into the show ((09.15).

Had met up with Bev and Sam, who drove us to Morley. and Anzir turned up from Leeds. The day was a massive success. It was all good fun,

I did a very good talk on The History and Mystery of Red Hair to a lovely audience; but my highlight was selling Ed Balls, Secretary of State for Children, Schools and Families two Wayne Jacobs Little Red Head Books. For proof see this photo. I am the one with the hat

A good day was made an even better weekend better by being with friends.

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