Immortality - hmmm. That's probably not spelt right, but hey - I've a lifetime to perfect it.
I touched on the subject of my immortal soul in my last post. So let's examine this shall we. What makes me think I am immortal?
Well it's like this. I cannot remember a time when I didn't exist, therefore logically I have always existed. Other, older people (and we know what their memories are like don't we?) say they CAN remember a time when I didn't exist. They allege that they saw me born, or growing up or whatever. But THEY are mere mortals, so can we trust them? For all I know I imagined them all.
Of course, the true test of immortality is can you be killed? Well, this is possibly tempting fate, but I am begginning to have my doubts. A brief catalouge of my near death expereiencesl;
1971 - fall from a second storey window - outcome - a chipped tooth.
1972 - electrocuted whilst plugging in a toy train set. No effect.
1973 - electrocuted whilst plugging in a toy train set. No effect. Although by now I was going off the train set.
1980 - cycle accident into parked car whilst reading newspaper whilst cycling- no injury. Sunday supplement torn.
1982 - head on cycle accident. No injury.
1986 - throttle jams wide open on motorcycle - no injury. Bike a write off.
1987 - narrow miss with coach in single track Scottish Mountain road - I swear my two nearside wheels were over fresh air as we went around the bend to miss the coach coming the other way in the dark.
1989 - car into ditch - no injury - reversed out, and completed journey!
1992 - head on collision with stolen car - slight disorientation, mild concussion.
1993 - Minor smoke inhalation in fire rescue. 2 others died, I survived.
1994 - electrocuted again whilst decorating friends flat. Of course I'm getting used to it by now.
1995 - Collision with bus which pulls out at junction into path of my speeding patrol car. No injury.
1995 - shot in knee. That hurt a bit.
1997 - Got married (okay that doesn't really count, but it hurt me terribly financially and has done ever since)
2002 - Broken ribs, twice, in fights with violent people.
2005- fell down cliff whilst on active coastguard rescue duty. Mild bruising to both thighs.
2009 - Almost drowned in sink hole in Dent Dale Valley.
This is just a breif sunnary of the things I can remember, I'm sure there are many more. Like the time I avoided hypothermia whilst sleeping drunk in a hedge oustide a mates house.
I now feel it is quite reasonable to wallpaper around a socket without necessarily removing the fuse from the system or switching off the supply. I know a man who changes household radiators without draining the heating system down first, but that's just silly - you're going to get wet, but not dead.
Any how the uopshot is, I am (possibly) immortal (so far) and unless fate happens to be watching and decides to make an example of me I shall remain immortal until the day I die.
Sunday, 27 September 2009
Sunday, 20 September 2009
3 Peaks Trip
Left, me at the Top of Pen-Y-Ghent, and right, "the evil brooding bastard"Okay, I'll conced it wa the 2 peaks. I did Pen-Y-Ghent, or as a friend would have it, "that evil brooding bastard." And I did Whernside. I just didn't get round to Ingleborough on account of really bad blisters. That makes me sound rather like a wimp doesn't it? I mean, Douglas Bader never complained of blisters did he? Well he wouldn't.
To be fair, on arrival at Ingleton, no sooner had I set up the caravan than I was off on the Ingleton Falls trail, a 6 1/2 mile stroll, which started the blebs on my feet. On the way back to the pitch I passed by three pubs and was forced to have a pint in each one. Then It was back to the caravan for an evening meal of chicken ding (chicken shoved in the microwave until it goes "ding") and a couple of episodes of Life on Mars with the strat of a wottle of Bhiskey.
Next day was Pen-Y-Ghent and Whernside, and I would have gone on to complete Ingleborough, honestly, had it not been for the terrible blistering from which I am only now starting to recover.
Pen-Y-Ghent of course has two ways up. The shorter and steeper way which involves a longish walk gradually sloping uphill then a bugger of a climb to reach the top - or the other way which is a long and steep ascent, where the summit is constantly moving around and getting further away. I chose the latter, then came down the steep way. next time I might go in reverse.
I blame my boots for the blisters. When I was a kid there was a magazine called Tiger, unless memory fails. One of the comic strips in this was called "Billy's Boots" the storyline of which was that this kid called Billy had and old pair of football boots which had previously belonged to a famous footballer and which gave him magical footballing skills. My walking boots are pretty much the same. The are now about 21 years old, possibly much older, i think I bought them when I was about 20 but I might have been 18. They are heavy, leather and have seen many miles, the soles are now wearing quite thin. My work colleagues, decked out in modern Teflon and Gortex feather weight boots refer to them as antiques, and they are possibly right. They are certainly now past their best (the boots that is, not my work colleagues) hecne the blisters I'm guessing. But if I have to break in a new pair that means more blisters, am I right?
Anyway Thursday dawned bright and sunny and it seemed a shame to waste the day, but I was unable to walk without a fair degree of discomfort. Fortunately, all was not lost; I had taken along my trusty mountain bike. I decided a ride through to Dent was in order, a 20 mile round trip. For September it was quite decidely hot and sunny, and it wasn't long before I had stripped to just a pair of shorts, which as it turned out was a fortunate decision. As I stopped for lunch it seemed like a good idea to dip my feet in the stream passing through the Dent Valley (The River Dent? - I don't know?) How refreshing! I stowed by bottles of fresh orange juice in there too and chilled them as I ate my lunch.
Now for those who don't know it, the road through to Dent is a single track unclassified road, and probably sees maybe five cars a day travel down it, so it's ideal for cycling although hilly, it is remote in the extreme. This may have a bearing on the life changing situation I found myself in - had things gone differently it could have been many days before my bike and body were found! Having finished lunch and still hot and sweaty I decided to paddle a little in the stream. being no fool, and a weak swimmer at best I wanted to remain well within my depths, and thought it safe as I could see the bottom. Having wandered up the stream at knee depth I was about to turn aroudn when suddenly and without any wanring the bottom disappered! I reckon I went down about 15 feet in a "sink hole" and disorientated, searching for daylight and which was was up, under water for maybe 35 seconds before gasping for breath, I surfaced again. My life flashed beofre my eyes I can say! Well I think it was my life, it had been edited quite badly, and a lot of the more boring stuff had been cut, but I recognised a lot of it.
I had considered crossing this same stream/river with my bike to get to a wooded area which looked pleasantly shaded from the hot sun - had I done so I would have had my bike and rucksack to fight with as I went under. I think back now and wonder , if I had hit my head, or caught my foot in a rock or something, would I now be writing my orbituary (metaphorically speaking of course) Given the remoteness of the location, no one would have seen me go under, and no one knew I was there, so no one would have rescued me or even come loooking for me for many days. It makes you think. I could have drowned or worse.
It also makes me unafraid of the future, not fearless as such, but certainly thankful to be still here and ready to make the best of the extra time I have now. On the other hand it confirms my suspicion that I am (probably) immortal.
Dent Railway station, is allegedly the highest mainline railay station in England. So a visit was in order. And there is was, certianly bloody high if the hills I had to go up where any measure.
Thursday night saw much consumption from the wottle of bhiskey and more episodes of Life on Mars!
All in all a memorable excursion, and one which has a part three to come, as Ingleborough has yet to be tackled. October half term looks a likely time to try again - with new boots!
Sunday, 6 September 2009
Update. I haven't posted anything for months
Mervin passed his MOT so will be staying on the fleet for a while longer yet. I have yet top get round to painting his left side, but might get it done in the next two weeks while I'm on leave.
On the other hand I might not as I have the hallway to redecorate, and I set off on Tuesday to climb the Three Yorksihire Peaks. I'm taking the Caravan for four days, so I should get in the walking, some cycling and maybe a little beer drinking!
I have just got back from 3 days with the family in the Caravan in three peaks country, staying at Bentham, not far of Settle and a stones through from Inglebourough. The weather was not too good. It rained once, starting on the Wednesday we arrived and continuing until Saturday when we left. We did get to visit White Scar Caves though, a fasciniating visit under Ingleborough, and a prelude to climbing it.
The site we stayed on was rather soggy, and the facilities basic Life on Mars era.Cheap though at a tenspot per night. One cheeky camper arrived at about 10p.m. then buggered off next morning about 5.30, managing to avoid payment altogether. I doubt he got his moneys worth though, as the view was great when the rain stopped and it was clear enough to see the hills. It was Saturday mornign before I realised they had wind turbines on top - it was too murky to see them before then.
The big family holiday was to Hannover, Germany, by coach, with the inlaws. Not as bad as it sounds. The coach had slightly less leg room than was comfrotable, but it wasn't quite cattle class, and the in laws are great, i get along with them better than i do my own folks, probably because they are normal people, whilst my parents are almost certainly aliens. Anyhow, I was ashamed of my pidgin German that I learnt at school, particularly as all the German folk spoke perfect English, so it has inspired me to learn German properly. I am on lesson 6 as I type, and listening to the Ipod in my sleep to learn subliminally. I don't know if that sort of thing works but it's worth a try.
Decorating the hall will be a major undertaking. I don't do things by half, so it will involve plumbing in a new radiator, replastering the top landing by the bathroom door, which was moved when I refitted the bathroom (see an earlier post) replacing all the skirting and architraves, a new laminate floor and a new storage solution for the understairs area.... maybe fantastic sliding doors to hide all the clutter. And a new doorbell (how that got on the list is beyond me, but 'er indoors has added it to my list) Lots of builders trade magnolia will be used, but the lower hallway will be papered - it has been chosen and bought already. Oh yeah, and the single electric socket will be replaced with a double. And the light probably changed. With extra lights fitted under the stairs in the new cupboard. Possibly those battery LED ones.
After that it will be the front room, a similar major undertaking, which will involve further electrical work with additional sockets - you can never have enough it seems, a new fireplace and gas fire and a full redecoration job. And a new sofa and furniture. And then the dining room needs new table and chairs. Problem is, with all this time off work I'm not earningn the overtime to pay for it all.
Oh well. To bed. Tommorow is another day. Last day with the kids before they go back to school, and I go off to Horton in Ribblesdale to climb mountains. Maybe we will follow the tradition we started last year and go for one last bike ride to close the summer. Whats's the weather going to do I wonder? Rain seems likely!
On the other hand I might not as I have the hallway to redecorate, and I set off on Tuesday to climb the Three Yorksihire Peaks. I'm taking the Caravan for four days, so I should get in the walking, some cycling and maybe a little beer drinking!
I have just got back from 3 days with the family in the Caravan in three peaks country, staying at Bentham, not far of Settle and a stones through from Inglebourough. The weather was not too good. It rained once, starting on the Wednesday we arrived and continuing until Saturday when we left. We did get to visit White Scar Caves though, a fasciniating visit under Ingleborough, and a prelude to climbing it.
The site we stayed on was rather soggy, and the facilities basic Life on Mars era.Cheap though at a tenspot per night. One cheeky camper arrived at about 10p.m. then buggered off next morning about 5.30, managing to avoid payment altogether. I doubt he got his moneys worth though, as the view was great when the rain stopped and it was clear enough to see the hills. It was Saturday mornign before I realised they had wind turbines on top - it was too murky to see them before then.
The big family holiday was to Hannover, Germany, by coach, with the inlaws. Not as bad as it sounds. The coach had slightly less leg room than was comfrotable, but it wasn't quite cattle class, and the in laws are great, i get along with them better than i do my own folks, probably because they are normal people, whilst my parents are almost certainly aliens. Anyhow, I was ashamed of my pidgin German that I learnt at school, particularly as all the German folk spoke perfect English, so it has inspired me to learn German properly. I am on lesson 6 as I type, and listening to the Ipod in my sleep to learn subliminally. I don't know if that sort of thing works but it's worth a try.
Decorating the hall will be a major undertaking. I don't do things by half, so it will involve plumbing in a new radiator, replastering the top landing by the bathroom door, which was moved when I refitted the bathroom (see an earlier post) replacing all the skirting and architraves, a new laminate floor and a new storage solution for the understairs area.... maybe fantastic sliding doors to hide all the clutter. And a new doorbell (how that got on the list is beyond me, but 'er indoors has added it to my list) Lots of builders trade magnolia will be used, but the lower hallway will be papered - it has been chosen and bought already. Oh yeah, and the single electric socket will be replaced with a double. And the light probably changed. With extra lights fitted under the stairs in the new cupboard. Possibly those battery LED ones.
After that it will be the front room, a similar major undertaking, which will involve further electrical work with additional sockets - you can never have enough it seems, a new fireplace and gas fire and a full redecoration job. And a new sofa and furniture. And then the dining room needs new table and chairs. Problem is, with all this time off work I'm not earningn the overtime to pay for it all.
Oh well. To bed. Tommorow is another day. Last day with the kids before they go back to school, and I go off to Horton in Ribblesdale to climb mountains. Maybe we will follow the tradition we started last year and go for one last bike ride to close the summer. Whats's the weather going to do I wonder? Rain seems likely!
Sunday, 5 July 2009
Credit Crunch? What credit crunch?
Apparently there is some sort of financial crisis going on. This means that rich people who have saved their money are earning less interest than they used to and may now have to work for a living instead. Conversely those who work for a living and have no savings, mainly due to paying exhorbitant taxes to fund the lifestyle of the idle rich, now find that their mortgages have gone down, meaning that they have more disposable income to save, although there is no point as there is no interest paid on savings, so we may as well pay off the mortgage even quicker, so that we can retire earlier.
So to summarise, the rich are getting poorer, and the workers can retire sooner. And this is a bad thing?
So how do the unemployed fare in all this? By and large the great unwashed have no savings and no mortgage, so provided the price of Stealla does not increase they have nothing to worry about.
Sadly, a few people will lose their jobs as there is a downturn in industry. But our woderful government have a solution. If I understand correctly we got into this position because the banks lent money they didn't have to people who couldn't pay it back. Ironically our Government beleive that by encouraging people to spend money they don;t have we can buy our way out of tis recession. So we have the scrappage scheme. This means that if you are poor enough to own a car more than 11 years old (it has to be ten years old and you have to have owned it for more than a year) you can trade it for a brand new one and get £1000 from the government matched by £1000 discount from the dealer to buy a new car. This will support the British motor industry (What British motor industry?)
So how many pople driving for example a ten year old Volvo have £14,000 stuffed undeer their matresses to buy a new one, even with a £2000 subsidy? Sorry but if I had that sort of money I'd be paying a huge chunk off my mortgage. So, the people buying these new cars will be buying on credit. Borrowing money that the banks don't have and which they can't gaurantee will be repaid....... Hmmm. Haven't we been there before.
So to summarise, the rich are getting poorer, and the workers can retire sooner. And this is a bad thing?
So how do the unemployed fare in all this? By and large the great unwashed have no savings and no mortgage, so provided the price of Stealla does not increase they have nothing to worry about.
Sadly, a few people will lose their jobs as there is a downturn in industry. But our woderful government have a solution. If I understand correctly we got into this position because the banks lent money they didn't have to people who couldn't pay it back. Ironically our Government beleive that by encouraging people to spend money they don;t have we can buy our way out of tis recession. So we have the scrappage scheme. This means that if you are poor enough to own a car more than 11 years old (it has to be ten years old and you have to have owned it for more than a year) you can trade it for a brand new one and get £1000 from the government matched by £1000 discount from the dealer to buy a new car. This will support the British motor industry (What British motor industry?)
So how many pople driving for example a ten year old Volvo have £14,000 stuffed undeer their matresses to buy a new one, even with a £2000 subsidy? Sorry but if I had that sort of money I'd be paying a huge chunk off my mortgage. So, the people buying these new cars will be buying on credit. Borrowing money that the banks don't have and which they can't gaurantee will be repaid....... Hmmm. Haven't we been there before.
Saturday, 2 May 2009
Ever had one of those days?
Sometimes I wonder why I do this job.
If you thought being a traffic cop was just about driving fast cars, getting a suntan on your right arm and issuing speeding tickets you'd be wrong. Apart from attending serious and fatal accidents, trying to keep an antiquanted road network going and issuing all those summonses and tickets traffic cops also attend and deal with every other policing situation you can imagine. Unexploded bombs, fires, chemical spills, drunks, drugged people, suicides, fights, robberies, muggings, burglaries and of course every officers favourite the "Domestic Dispute."
So it was that last night I found myself nearest patrol to the "Domestic Dispute." Not only nearest, but also the only available patrol. A male was reported trying to kick the door in at a property. Approaching the scene I passed a male on the street nearby, casually dressed in clothing which suited a nightclub nearby frequented by the student fraternity - a grey hoody, jeans, long hair, 7 stone wet through - typical mosha! Certainly not the type to be kicking a door in, you would have thought. He was smoking a fag, and only gave me a casual glance as I drove by.
Arriving at the address I found what appeared to be two young women in the house, with the windows trashed and both in a distressed state. They quickly calmed down as a result of my unique brusque approach and described the very lad I had seen as the offender. He was, as expected the boyfriend of one of the ladies, who despite my initial appraisal turned out not to be a lady after all but a young man! (although many a jury would be fooled!)
With the description obtained I set off to locate the villain of the piece, confident that he would be hanging about around the corner where I had last seen him. Sure enough, he was lurking in a ginnel, yards from whwere I had last seen him. Unfortunatley he chose to run.
Now any criminal will tell you he has a greater chance of escaping than being caught. There are many reasons for this. Firstly, he is generally 20 or so years the juniour of the person chasing him. He has the fear of being caught which spurs him on. He is dressed in a street clothing - trainers and a tracksuit, whilst the bloke chasing him has about a stone and a half of stab vest and belt equipment to carry and is wearing boots. Plus he is on his own turf and knows the area far better than the flat foot chasing him. He probably hasn't just eaten a 10" Meat Feast pizza either, although there is an odds on chance he has drunk a few cans of Stella.
He ran down the tenfoot behind the houses, and not being drawn in to a chase over uneven surfaces I ran on the pavement in front of the houses instead, hoping to cut him off at the next alley. Running into said alley there was no sign of him, but I knew there was another track that ran at right angles towards a large park and waste ground area and ran that way. Sure enough after a short while I could see him running ahead of me, and I was gaining.
Now comes the problem. In a motor pursuit you have streets and landmarks to give your location. Running across a disused railway line in the dark with nothing but trees and grassland you very quickly loose your bearings. The suspect darted into a wooded copse, and disappeared from view. Experience tells me that in this position the best thing to do is stand still at the place you last saw him, and try and melt intot the shadows. Chances are, the suspect is out of breath, not far off and trying to do exactly the same thing, whilst trying to hide. I asked for a dog unit - as always several minutes away, and air support - the helicopter was at base 20 miles away but would launch and assist.
Rummaging aropund the bushes and trees my brain suddenly kicked into gear - hadn't the original emergency call said he was armed with a knife? So, let me get this right. I didn't know where I was, I was in the dark, on my own, with no immediate air support, no ground support and I didn't know where the suspect was. He could have escaped, or he could be 4 feet away, deciding where exactly to skewer me. Why was I so keen to catch up with a man armed with knife? All I have is a blunt metal baton - which is probably shorter than his knife!
Things did not improve with the arrival of the helicopter. I had been able to direct it into the wasteland, with a vague idea of where I was - I could see a large chimney nearby and the live railway line that crossed the disused line, plus a housing estate that borders the area, so I could sort of orientate where I was. But how to describe where I was? Normally, in these circumstances I would flash a torch to show the helicopter my position, and give them a staring point to work from. A fine idea in principle, but my million candle power torch was safely stowed on the back seat of the patrol car - now about a mile away. All I had was small hand held LED torch, which at about an inch diameter gave off the same sort of glow as an exhausted glow worm. being LED t gave off almost no heat, so even thermal imaging cameras on the chopper couldn't pick me up easily. Incredibly, after three false starts the chopper crew picked up the faint glow, and began an air search of the area.
At the same time the canine unit arrived, and began a ground search of the shubbery the suspect had last been seen in.
It is perhaps a good time to mention that police dogs, although highly trained, are trained by police officers. They spend many hours attacking police officers - but it's training, and done safely. They do not understand the difference between training and reality. They also do not understand the difference between an officer wearing a heavy protective leather training sleeve and one who is wearing nothing more than a short sleeved polo shirt. They are trained to "hold" a suspect by barking at him, and will only attack and bite if the suspect runs or shows aggression. So, when a police officer, holding a defensive baton, locates the suspect and challenges him to come out of the bushes or be struck by the baton, the police dog sees a man acting aggressively and holding a weapon. It therefore follows it's training and attacks.
I can tell you now it takes a brave man to stand still and face several stone of German Shepherd, particularly one which seemingly has more teeth then Jaws had, when it launches itself at you, grabs an arm and decides to shake. The impulse is to hit it with your baton, or try and run away - but that is the last thing you want to do, as it will only get more aggressive. The best thing to do is stand still and maybe wimper a bit, possibly even cry. It's okay to cry when you have 6 stone of teeth hanging on your arm trying to rip it out of the socket.
Many anglo saxon words were spoken before the dog handler arrived on the scene and commanded the dog to release me. By now the suspect had fled again, and in the melee and confusion I have no idea where he went. I was busy being bitten by friendly fire at the time. I beleive I will heal without a scar.
To really cap the night off it turned out to be one of those domestics where, despite being threatened with a knife, and having his windows trashed the complainant did not want any police action - because he still loves him!
Like I said, sometimes I wonder why I do this job!
If you thought being a traffic cop was just about driving fast cars, getting a suntan on your right arm and issuing speeding tickets you'd be wrong. Apart from attending serious and fatal accidents, trying to keep an antiquanted road network going and issuing all those summonses and tickets traffic cops also attend and deal with every other policing situation you can imagine. Unexploded bombs, fires, chemical spills, drunks, drugged people, suicides, fights, robberies, muggings, burglaries and of course every officers favourite the "Domestic Dispute."
So it was that last night I found myself nearest patrol to the "Domestic Dispute." Not only nearest, but also the only available patrol. A male was reported trying to kick the door in at a property. Approaching the scene I passed a male on the street nearby, casually dressed in clothing which suited a nightclub nearby frequented by the student fraternity - a grey hoody, jeans, long hair, 7 stone wet through - typical mosha! Certainly not the type to be kicking a door in, you would have thought. He was smoking a fag, and only gave me a casual glance as I drove by.
Arriving at the address I found what appeared to be two young women in the house, with the windows trashed and both in a distressed state. They quickly calmed down as a result of my unique brusque approach and described the very lad I had seen as the offender. He was, as expected the boyfriend of one of the ladies, who despite my initial appraisal turned out not to be a lady after all but a young man! (although many a jury would be fooled!)
With the description obtained I set off to locate the villain of the piece, confident that he would be hanging about around the corner where I had last seen him. Sure enough, he was lurking in a ginnel, yards from whwere I had last seen him. Unfortunatley he chose to run.
Now any criminal will tell you he has a greater chance of escaping than being caught. There are many reasons for this. Firstly, he is generally 20 or so years the juniour of the person chasing him. He has the fear of being caught which spurs him on. He is dressed in a street clothing - trainers and a tracksuit, whilst the bloke chasing him has about a stone and a half of stab vest and belt equipment to carry and is wearing boots. Plus he is on his own turf and knows the area far better than the flat foot chasing him. He probably hasn't just eaten a 10" Meat Feast pizza either, although there is an odds on chance he has drunk a few cans of Stella.
He ran down the tenfoot behind the houses, and not being drawn in to a chase over uneven surfaces I ran on the pavement in front of the houses instead, hoping to cut him off at the next alley. Running into said alley there was no sign of him, but I knew there was another track that ran at right angles towards a large park and waste ground area and ran that way. Sure enough after a short while I could see him running ahead of me, and I was gaining.
Now comes the problem. In a motor pursuit you have streets and landmarks to give your location. Running across a disused railway line in the dark with nothing but trees and grassland you very quickly loose your bearings. The suspect darted into a wooded copse, and disappeared from view. Experience tells me that in this position the best thing to do is stand still at the place you last saw him, and try and melt intot the shadows. Chances are, the suspect is out of breath, not far off and trying to do exactly the same thing, whilst trying to hide. I asked for a dog unit - as always several minutes away, and air support - the helicopter was at base 20 miles away but would launch and assist.
Rummaging aropund the bushes and trees my brain suddenly kicked into gear - hadn't the original emergency call said he was armed with a knife? So, let me get this right. I didn't know where I was, I was in the dark, on my own, with no immediate air support, no ground support and I didn't know where the suspect was. He could have escaped, or he could be 4 feet away, deciding where exactly to skewer me. Why was I so keen to catch up with a man armed with knife? All I have is a blunt metal baton - which is probably shorter than his knife!
Things did not improve with the arrival of the helicopter. I had been able to direct it into the wasteland, with a vague idea of where I was - I could see a large chimney nearby and the live railway line that crossed the disused line, plus a housing estate that borders the area, so I could sort of orientate where I was. But how to describe where I was? Normally, in these circumstances I would flash a torch to show the helicopter my position, and give them a staring point to work from. A fine idea in principle, but my million candle power torch was safely stowed on the back seat of the patrol car - now about a mile away. All I had was small hand held LED torch, which at about an inch diameter gave off the same sort of glow as an exhausted glow worm. being LED t gave off almost no heat, so even thermal imaging cameras on the chopper couldn't pick me up easily. Incredibly, after three false starts the chopper crew picked up the faint glow, and began an air search of the area.
At the same time the canine unit arrived, and began a ground search of the shubbery the suspect had last been seen in.
It is perhaps a good time to mention that police dogs, although highly trained, are trained by police officers. They spend many hours attacking police officers - but it's training, and done safely. They do not understand the difference between training and reality. They also do not understand the difference between an officer wearing a heavy protective leather training sleeve and one who is wearing nothing more than a short sleeved polo shirt. They are trained to "hold" a suspect by barking at him, and will only attack and bite if the suspect runs or shows aggression. So, when a police officer, holding a defensive baton, locates the suspect and challenges him to come out of the bushes or be struck by the baton, the police dog sees a man acting aggressively and holding a weapon. It therefore follows it's training and attacks.
I can tell you now it takes a brave man to stand still and face several stone of German Shepherd, particularly one which seemingly has more teeth then Jaws had, when it launches itself at you, grabs an arm and decides to shake. The impulse is to hit it with your baton, or try and run away - but that is the last thing you want to do, as it will only get more aggressive. The best thing to do is stand still and maybe wimper a bit, possibly even cry. It's okay to cry when you have 6 stone of teeth hanging on your arm trying to rip it out of the socket.
Many anglo saxon words were spoken before the dog handler arrived on the scene and commanded the dog to release me. By now the suspect had fled again, and in the melee and confusion I have no idea where he went. I was busy being bitten by friendly fire at the time. I beleive I will heal without a scar.
To really cap the night off it turned out to be one of those domestics where, despite being threatened with a knife, and having his windows trashed the complainant did not want any police action - because he still loves him!
Like I said, sometimes I wonder why I do this job!
Friday, 24 April 2009
Budget - who thought up that one?
Well, what a great budget that was eh?
Let me understand this right. If I am an average motorist who owns a car more than 10 years old, and have owned it for more than a year (i.e. since it was nine year old ...or longer) then I can tradeit in against a brand new car, and the governement will give me £1000, backed up by the motor industry giving me a further £1000, giving a £2000 rebate on a new car. Sounds great. except of course for 2 major problems. One, the motor industry have always given discounts if you ask for them, so all that will happen is that they will absorb the £1000 reduction into the list price of the car, knowing they can the afford to knock £1000 off the sale price. So what should have been a £13,000 car is now a £14,000 car less their discount. With it so far?
The second problem is, hwo many people do you know who drive a ten year old car by choice? Those that can afford a new car buy a new one say every three or four years. Those driving ten year old cars do so because that is all they can afford. This scheme wil not suddenly empower them financially to find the £11,000 to go and buy a new car. No, they will continue to run their ten year old car. Or they will take out finance deals to pay for the new car, thus returning us to the state we have just had, where people are borrowing money they can;t possibly afford to pay back!
Of course the GREENS are happy, because old cars are being crushed and old cars are as we all know dirty and smelly and pollute the atmosphere...... well don't be fooled. The majority of pollution a car will cause is in it;s manufacture, not in it's use. It is far greener to eke as much mileage as is possible out of a car once it has been manufactured, tahn to scrap it and make a new one.
Another concern is our great motoring heritage, and the huge cottage industry that supports it. This scheme may well support jobs in the manufacturing side of the motor industry, but it is a real kick in the teeth of the small restoration company, and the back street garages that make a living out of servicing and MOT testing the older and classic motors. If we drive older cars off the road (no pun intended) we dry up the work for these small businesses.
Ten years may well be the expected lifespan of a Eurobox produced by the modern factories of France, Korea, Japan and (shudder to think of it) China, but even the crap turned out by Rover in it's death throes will comfrtably see out 15 years if not 20 with regular servicing and a little TLC. Volvos, Saabs, BMW's, most VW's many Fords and almost all Jaguars will comfortably last 25 to 30 years - it's only fashion and consumer pressure that has made us change them so frequently in the first place. You have only to look at Cyprus, with it's admittedly kinder climate to see that even the cars of the 1970's when rust proofing was unheard of are still regualr sights on the roads. Cuba is an even bigger inspiration, with cars from the 1950's still in regular use, albeit running more modern LADA engines thanks to the communist regime, but still fettled and fixed to provide daily transport.
Where I wonder do the exoticars sit in the Goverment master plan? Is a 1999 Louts Elise now scrap fodder? Is a 1957 Corvette, in prsitne concours condition a classic worth saving or just a discount off a new Focus?
It's all a scam! The government reckon to have funded sufficent to allow 300,000 "old" cars to be scrapped in this scheme. Lets see what happens in the nest year shall we?
As a post script can I add that my 1994 Ford Fiesta Courier Van would be eligible for this scheme - If I had about £10000 I could trade it in for a new one. The new one would be Diesel engined, and no more economicial or less polluting than the one it replaced. In fact, as mine has already caused it's "production pollutuon" as discussed above and has since been converted to run on used Vegetable Oil it is actually carbon neutral and less polluting than the new one.......
Where, then is the sense in replacing it? Until it suffers a major mechanical failure or fails an MOT I will continue to use it, and unless the Government are willing to up the grants to £10,000, when that day finally comes I will spend another £400 or £500 on one of a simliar age and condition and use that.
Let me understand this right. If I am an average motorist who owns a car more than 10 years old, and have owned it for more than a year (i.e. since it was nine year old ...or longer) then I can tradeit in against a brand new car, and the governement will give me £1000, backed up by the motor industry giving me a further £1000, giving a £2000 rebate on a new car. Sounds great. except of course for 2 major problems. One, the motor industry have always given discounts if you ask for them, so all that will happen is that they will absorb the £1000 reduction into the list price of the car, knowing they can the afford to knock £1000 off the sale price. So what should have been a £13,000 car is now a £14,000 car less their discount. With it so far?
The second problem is, hwo many people do you know who drive a ten year old car by choice? Those that can afford a new car buy a new one say every three or four years. Those driving ten year old cars do so because that is all they can afford. This scheme wil not suddenly empower them financially to find the £11,000 to go and buy a new car. No, they will continue to run their ten year old car. Or they will take out finance deals to pay for the new car, thus returning us to the state we have just had, where people are borrowing money they can;t possibly afford to pay back!
Of course the GREENS are happy, because old cars are being crushed and old cars are as we all know dirty and smelly and pollute the atmosphere...... well don't be fooled. The majority of pollution a car will cause is in it;s manufacture, not in it's use. It is far greener to eke as much mileage as is possible out of a car once it has been manufactured, tahn to scrap it and make a new one.
Another concern is our great motoring heritage, and the huge cottage industry that supports it. This scheme may well support jobs in the manufacturing side of the motor industry, but it is a real kick in the teeth of the small restoration company, and the back street garages that make a living out of servicing and MOT testing the older and classic motors. If we drive older cars off the road (no pun intended) we dry up the work for these small businesses.
Ten years may well be the expected lifespan of a Eurobox produced by the modern factories of France, Korea, Japan and (shudder to think of it) China, but even the crap turned out by Rover in it's death throes will comfrtably see out 15 years if not 20 with regular servicing and a little TLC. Volvos, Saabs, BMW's, most VW's many Fords and almost all Jaguars will comfortably last 25 to 30 years - it's only fashion and consumer pressure that has made us change them so frequently in the first place. You have only to look at Cyprus, with it's admittedly kinder climate to see that even the cars of the 1970's when rust proofing was unheard of are still regualr sights on the roads. Cuba is an even bigger inspiration, with cars from the 1950's still in regular use, albeit running more modern LADA engines thanks to the communist regime, but still fettled and fixed to provide daily transport.
Where I wonder do the exoticars sit in the Goverment master plan? Is a 1999 Louts Elise now scrap fodder? Is a 1957 Corvette, in prsitne concours condition a classic worth saving or just a discount off a new Focus?
It's all a scam! The government reckon to have funded sufficent to allow 300,000 "old" cars to be scrapped in this scheme. Lets see what happens in the nest year shall we?
As a post script can I add that my 1994 Ford Fiesta Courier Van would be eligible for this scheme - If I had about £10000 I could trade it in for a new one. The new one would be Diesel engined, and no more economicial or less polluting than the one it replaced. In fact, as mine has already caused it's "production pollutuon" as discussed above and has since been converted to run on used Vegetable Oil it is actually carbon neutral and less polluting than the new one.......
Where, then is the sense in replacing it? Until it suffers a major mechanical failure or fails an MOT I will continue to use it, and unless the Government are willing to up the grants to £10,000, when that day finally comes I will spend another £400 or £500 on one of a simliar age and condition and use that.
Saturday, 11 April 2009
Red Dwarf - Return to Earth
Well Red Dwarf was a bit of a damp squid wasn't it? It used to be a triple decker fried egg sandwhich with chilly sauce and chutney - all the ingredients were wrong but somehow it worked. Last night was like four mates who haven't met for 20 years getting together and not really knowing what to say. The absence of studio or canned laughter didn't help as it left an embarassing silence between the dialouge.
Where it used to be peppered with jokes, puns and amusing similies it had a rather feeble exchange of verbals that seemed to be just padding out the scenes. Rimmer reading Practical Classic Car magazine that Chris Barrie now writes for was perhaps supposed to be witty, but could just as easily have been an out take that got put in by mistake
The special effects were similarly disappointing after the big budget of the last few series. This was distinctly broom cupboard and foam cutouts.
I suppose being produced by DAVE instead of the BBC has a lot to do with it. SKY did the same with a one off Blackadder that was similarly lacklustre
I know the boys from the Dwarf aren't gettign any younger, but the magic and zest of the group dynamic seems to have died a premeautre death. When Laurel and Hardy made their last film, Utopia in 1950 they were tired, ageing and recognised as being at the end of their careers. Yet they still managed to make the film sparkle in places. The dwarf crew seem to be just going through the motions. And motions, remember, is a medical term for shit.
This should have been much better. Craig Charles can act well enough to make us think he fancies Liz McDonald for Christs sake! He could at least make an effort to out some animation into the job, like he did in the early series.
Chris Barrie used to raise a laugh with a simple facial expression, what happened? Is he paralysed or something? And where were his wonderful voices?
Kryten appears to have lost his nasal mechanoid voice, and The Cat had all the style and poise of Vicky Pollard.
I hope the remaining two episodes can redeem the Dwarfers and let them go out on a high. I don't want to remember them this way.
Otherwise Return to Earth, the inside of a ping pong ball and the VW Jetta will go down in history as the three least noteworthy things every written about.
Where it used to be peppered with jokes, puns and amusing similies it had a rather feeble exchange of verbals that seemed to be just padding out the scenes. Rimmer reading Practical Classic Car magazine that Chris Barrie now writes for was perhaps supposed to be witty, but could just as easily have been an out take that got put in by mistake
The special effects were similarly disappointing after the big budget of the last few series. This was distinctly broom cupboard and foam cutouts.
I suppose being produced by DAVE instead of the BBC has a lot to do with it. SKY did the same with a one off Blackadder that was similarly lacklustre
I know the boys from the Dwarf aren't gettign any younger, but the magic and zest of the group dynamic seems to have died a premeautre death. When Laurel and Hardy made their last film, Utopia in 1950 they were tired, ageing and recognised as being at the end of their careers. Yet they still managed to make the film sparkle in places. The dwarf crew seem to be just going through the motions. And motions, remember, is a medical term for shit.
This should have been much better. Craig Charles can act well enough to make us think he fancies Liz McDonald for Christs sake! He could at least make an effort to out some animation into the job, like he did in the early series.
Chris Barrie used to raise a laugh with a simple facial expression, what happened? Is he paralysed or something? And where were his wonderful voices?
Kryten appears to have lost his nasal mechanoid voice, and The Cat had all the style and poise of Vicky Pollard.
I hope the remaining two episodes can redeem the Dwarfers and let them go out on a high. I don't want to remember them this way.
Otherwise Return to Earth, the inside of a ping pong ball and the VW Jetta will go down in history as the three least noteworthy things every written about.
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