» Tramps

Tramp on a boat
I have two dogs, and regularly walk them alongside the Leeds-Liverpool Canal near Apperley Bridge, on the Leeds/Bradford border.

About two years ago the hull of a boat - not a big boat, maybe a two-berth cruiser type - appeared one weekend, moored by the butresses of an old bridge.

Slowly but surely a superstructure has been built up on the hull, made entirely of rubbish - old kitchen units, doors etc..Essentially this wreck now has a serviceable, if ramshackle, living quarters.

And I can't help but envy the old dosser who lives in it. It's rent free, he's done a very good job making his little cabin waterproof, he's not going to be bothered by chavs and I often see him making his way back down the towpath with bin-pickings from the very affluent areas nearby.

This boy lives for nothing and I've never seen him ask for anything, in a rustic, peaceful little corner of the West Yorkshire rat-race.

There's the irony - his floating house is next to the railway lines from Skipton and Ilkley into Leeds, with trains conveying polyester clad arse-lickers from Barratt Home to call-centre and back, stuck in 9-5 land with only Big Brother to entertain them.

Hats off, Canal tramp. I'll print this, and any replies, and leave it on his boat tomorrow.
(Thu 2nd Jul 2009, 18:53, More)

» Crazy Relatives

The Wood Museum
My dad collects, stores, and reverentially cherishes wood.

OK, let's be specific - planks, or finished surfaces.

Examples - I had a new kitchen fitted recently. Mr and Mrs Disappointed came to visit. There was a spare drawer front which Mr. D cradled longingly then took home.

A window frame, complete with glass, was removed from their neighbours house during recent alterations. Mr D retreived the whole shooting match from the skip.

There is a shed at the bottom of their garden full (comprehensively - you can no longer open the door) of wood, including a hutch last occupied by our Guinea Pigs over 20 years ago.

It is impossible to get behind the shed due to the sheer amount of wood stashed there.

The wood stash has now started to consolidate behind the conservatory.

I ought to add that my 68 year old father is utterly compos mentis in all other respects and held a highly responsible post with the MOD prior to his retirement.

Eventually my father and mother will pass on, because all flesh is as grass.

I will inherit, amongst other things, a fucking enormous amount of utterly useless timber.

I'm seriously considering killing two birds with one stone and sending him off with a viking funeral.
(Fri 6th Jul 2007, 21:31, More)

» Pet Stories

Pippin
A medium sized white cat with a few brown and black spots on her.

I'd say that I've owned her for about five years but if another cat questioned her she'd say that she owns me.

Over the last five years I've gone through divorce, bankruptcy, job loss, depression, a recurrence of alcoholism and plenty of other lows.

Throughout it all has been Pippin. She does'nt do any special tricks, she's had no brushes with death, she's just an ordinary cat.

What makes her wonderful is that when I've fallen, she's been there. We've had to move house several times - we've gone from rural farmhouse to scruffy chav terrace - yet she'll make friends and enjoy outside wherever she lives. She's watched me staggering about ripped to my tits on cheap white wine, but stayed until I got sober and I know that when I get home from the nightshift I'm currently working she'll be very happy to see me.

I'm single now. I'll be 39 soon. Frankly, I don't care because as long as Pippin is at large I'll have a companion.
(Sun 10th Jun 2007, 0:04, More)

» Cringe!

Pretty girl in office cringe number 2
Having clawed my way out of the stultifying miasma that is Gloucester I find myself, in 1996, behind a new, important and responsible desk in Leeds.

I'm the new gaffer, and I'm anxious to ingratiate myself with a team who had expected one of their own to be crowned head honcho.

Another office, another attractive girl. But this one knows it. She walks about the place with a catwalk swagger and her chin pointing to Jupiter. Because I've tried and failed to be prententious it's a characteristic I've little time for.

Management meeting time, after about a week. The ice is'nt quite broken but it's now thin enough that you'd not want to be skating on it.

The others are getting inquisitive and start pushing tentative questions my way - "Will there be redundancies?", "Will there be reorganisation?" etc..

The atmosphere is distinctly relaxing and I let slip that I'm recently seperated and in a new city. "Oh" comes a voice - "See anyone you fancy in the office then?"

"Well" says I, picking up on the lightening mood "That Sarah's a bit of alright but you'd think she was Kate Moss the way she struts about."

From one corner "She's got a deformed spine, you know."

From another "She's my sister."

Dogs cocks.
(Sun 30th Nov 2008, 19:21, More)

» What's the most horrific thing you've seen?

Two
First - driving down a road somewhere near Macclesfield, following a Transit van.

Van brakes sharply. So do I.

Object wearing helmet and leathers appears over the roof of Transit van and lands between back of van and front of my car.

Object is dead beyond hope of recovery.

The horror of this sank home at the inquest, which I had to go to as a witness, when we learned that the motorcyclist had previously been a pretty hopeless abuser of all sorts of substances but had met a girl, turned his life around and was going to work (his first ever full time job) when this happened.

That would be 1996 and still a tear forms in my eye...

Secondly - Kendal, 1990. I worked on the fourth floor of an office block overlooking the river. Right by our office is a weir, dam, waterfall - call it what you like but it's about 10 feet high and the river cascades over it.

It's a very hot day and the local kids are playing in the river under the waterfall.

From our vantage point we can see what they can't. There's a dead sheep - a BIG dead sheep - floating gracefully downstream.

The waterfall concentrates the flow of water and thus accelerates it so an entire office crowds to the window to watch a very sodden dead sheep pick up speed at a rate it never achieved in it's ovine heyday towards the oblivious frolicking youngsters.

Better than we expected. I don't know the speed that the water falls at this point but the sheep (deceased) flipped over the top of the waterfall at a fair rate of knots and - literally - disintegrated as it fell showering the fun loving youths in sheep components. Oh how they ran.

The first still visits me at low moments. The second still makes me grin.
(Sat 23rd Jun 2007, 0:30, More)