The Journey Back

Well, the closure of rail lines between Stockport and Manchester is becoming a real pain in the arse. Last night’s journey back from Reading, which would normally be 3 hours, give or take, instead took 5. For some reason once the train left Birmingham it went via Nuneaton, then took what can only be described as a “well fucked” route up to Stoke, and then ended up getting to Manchester via, um, Warrington.

Still, I’m back now, and as a side bonus, I could even almost walk by the time I got off the train. Who could ask for more? Now, where did I put those driving lessons…

Ouch

I should also point out, for any people even dimmer than me, that when Avebury is wet, it’s exceptionally slippy. The entire site is built on chalk, which when wet turns into something with all the traction qualities of oil with added grease.

So, when going downhill, what one should do is let go of the dog’s lead, and ideally walk on grass, rather than down a wet chalk slope. I managed one of these two ideas, ’til (thankfully) fairly close to the bottom. At that point, the grass disappears, and you have to step down onto wet chalk.

If I’d let go of the dog’s lead (which, technically, would have still fulfilled the requirement of “all dogs must be kept on leash”) then it wouldn’t have suddenly pulled me off-balance in it’s desire to play fetch with a fucking stick. I wouldn’t have hit the slope badly and off-balance, wouldn’t have slipped, and wouldn’t have then twisted my frigging knee into oblivion while trying (in that stupid British way of not hurting pets) to avoid landing my entire weight on the dog’s chest.

As it was, I didn’t let go of the lead, so all of the above did happen. Along with an (apparently) quite impressive roll, which led to bruises in other – ahem – interesting places. No, not there, you vile pervs. Happily it all happened quickly enough that no other bugger got photos. I’m thankful for small mercies. And ibuprofen.

Hippies

Over the weekend, I visited Avebury and Stonehenge. Obviously, due it being just after the summer solstice, it was a) pissing it down, and b) full of hippies and tourists. In fairness, it was primarily the latter, but all the same there enough hippies of various ilks to make for some high comedy.

Avebury was a better area for them, as they can touch the stones (and wallow in sheep shit) rather than the rather homogenised views of Stonehenge, with it’s fixed walkways and roped off areas.

No need for further words, really.

Travelling

The travel on the train (and bus) last night was an absolute ball-ache. Well, an absolute everything ache, to be honest. Manchester to Stockport on a bus – half an hour of steaming hot humanity when the train takes 10 minutes.

The train was OK. For the first ten minutes. Then I got surrounded by what can only be described as a contingent of lard-arses. The one on my side was big enough (and bear in mind here that while I’m not small by anyone’s definition (except maybe a Sumo Wrestlers)) to overlap into my seat and wedge my arsecheeks tighter than those of a homophobe in a gay-bar. In fact, I didn’t move for the next four hours.

When the butter-smugglers got off, they were replaced by a bunch of Brummies who obviously thought Slade had had the last words in the world of Fashion. Aviator shades, tartan trousers, and skintight t-shirts over beer bellies. And blithering on in Brummie accents about some kind of concert they were missing because the train was late.

Ah well, I’m sure it’ll be just as much fun tomorrow.

Stonehenge

Today’s been interesting – wet, but interesting. For the sheer hell of it, Stonehenge and Avebury both appealed, so that’s where we’ve been. Pictures will follow – mainly with rain-spots on, because the weather’s been fucking horrible. Thank chuff the camera’s got the function for changing white-balance during an overcast day (among others) – if not I’d be buggering about with brightness/contrast from here ’til doomsday.

Work Challenge

The office I work in is going through a “restructuring”. All very Ho Hum, but it does mean that people have to re-apply for their jobs. I’m not involved in it, as I’m just a lowly contractor. All good so far.

However, it means that Stinky^® is having to re-apply for his job. He thinks it’s a certainty, as no-one else will want it or apply for it.

Now, do I stir the shite, and apply for the job? I don’t want it, but it would be deeply amusing to see him having to go through all the process properly, rather than just assuming the job is his. I suspect that he’ll do a lazy job of the forms, so anything that looks better is in with a chance…

Hype

OK, if I wasn’t bored of Euro2004 already, I certainly am now.

And out of interest, just what kind of fuckwit moron cunt thinks it’s a good idea to attack people simply on the basis that they’re from the country whose national team has beaten ‘ours’? I despair of the logic process that must’ve gone on there.