Wednesday, May 23, 2007
A possible old timer
After all we all share this ball of dirt, don't we?
The latest thing I have come across that excites me, is freecycle, instead of throwing things away, people give things away. I used to work at Sita in Leicester where I did the ultimate clean up job. Many people have lovely homes, polished palaces of hunky dory, but the amount of garbage these palaces produce is alarming.
Freecycle is awesome.
The same kind of thing could lead to people bartering their skill sets, obviously the people who's only skillset, is the skillset of being able to rip off the rest of humanity will not like this idea, after all, they are better than the rest of us.
Give and take is the mark of a cultured society, closed societies do not grow. Dynamic is change dynamic, as we get older we like change less, but as we get older and older, we get more listened too. The trouble is we see, that which we only want to see sometimes.
Self kiddology is an art form
I will ask my dad if he minds me putting his picture on my blog
Monday, May 21, 2007
Tomorrow will mean, it has been three weeks since I first got my car. The first weekend I did something I had wanted to do for ages, I drove down to see my daughter in London taking Fred my parrot as well. The next weekend I did little and more or less, went nowhere.
The weekend just gone, I drove down to visit my father with a couple of friends. My father lives in Weymouth, Dorset, which is about two hundred miles south from where I live. It has been about ten years since I was a professional driver, so I was a bit rusty when I first got my car.
It did not take that long for me to acclimatize to controlling a car again, but acclimatizing to motorways again proved to be rather embarrasing, I settled into a too relaxed attitude driving down the M1 and forgot to watch for the signposts. I drove past my correct motorway exit, with nary a thought. So then I redfacedly backtracked and handed over to my co-driver, the journey continued without incidence and we arrived at my fathers early Saturday afternoon.
My father was rather mystified by my parrot 'coz he had never met my parrot before, he assumed having met one parrot, he had met them all, all he kept saying was, "why is he so quiet?" The thing is, my brother has a cockatiel who is very noisy and because my dad assumed that all parrots were noisy, he assumed my parrot is noisy, my parrot is too cautious to draw attention to himself by being noisy.
Coming home was a different kettle of fish, to going to my dad's, I got behind the wheel and the old lorry driver mentality clicked in, the miles seem to fly by, the agreement was that we swapped drivers when we reached Oxford but somehow I was never sure when I got to Oxford, and somehow when I saw the Evan's lift tower in Northhampton it seemed that I already was home, my hands were glued to the steering wheel and I drove all the way back, in one fell swoop.
I did not buy any Weymouth rock for a souveneir, but instead took a photo, of the sea in front of Weymouth beach.