30 Years of Punk

It's 30 years since the Sex Pistols first played. It's 30 years since one of the most influential musical movements since Elvis' hips. It's 30 years since the last real youth rebellion spat in the face of authority.

And I'm ranting about wheelie bins....fight the power man...now where did I put my coco?

Attack of the Green Bins

Recently local public service workers went on strike in order to protest against the threat to some of their pension rights. Because of this my bins weren't emptied last Tuesday. I have absolutely no problem with this as I agree with the strike. Local Government workers tend to be paid less than in the private sector, do shit jobs and only get their rewards when they are to old to enjoy them.

Now before I go off on one, because I'm going to, I know some people who work in local government and they're great. If they worked in the private sector they'd double their wage overnight. One in particular has greater ability and commitment to work than almost anyone else I've ever met. In other words there are some very good people there.

Lets be honest though your average local Government worker is never going to win a Nobel prize for.....well anything. As a collective they would have made Darwin think twice. I could be wrong though and they could be working on a level of intelligence that I just don't get.

My evidence? I mean how hard is it for an averagely intelligent person to make sure that someone has the right number of bins for their rubbish collection? I am supposed to have two, at the moment I have five. That's five bins for a terraced house with only two people in it. That's a bin for each working day. The reason I have five is that one went missing so I rang the council and asked them for a replacement BLACK bin (the one for the normal rubbish).

The council delivered a Green one (for recycling). I rang the council up and explained they had delivered the wrong one. The girl on the phone was obviously a temp because she displayed intelligence when she remarked that that was typical. So they delivered another Green one, and didn't take the original one.

By this time the original one that went missing turned up (it had obviously gone on holiday or something). Rang the council up and patiently explained.......came home from work to discover another Green one (nothing removed). Rang the council up and patiently explained again.......came home from work today to discover YET another Green one (and STILL nothing removed).

So either my council tax increase is going on some inspired weird guerilla campaign to encourage recycling or to pay for the pensions of colour blind idiots. Either way I surrender. I'm going to recycle more and thank god that the government is finding useful work for the intellectually challenged.

George Bush

It really pisses me off when he says something sensible, mind you its not often.

How not to Jump

How not to Jump
Originally uploaded by Stuart Davies.

You see as I said in my previous post the idea of having a riding lesson the day after the night before is not a good idea.

As this photo shows when you are trying to keep the contents of your stomach in your stomach all pretence of style, sophistication and ability is blown away.

I did manage to give a slightly better account of my self for the rest of the lesson. The evidence can be seen here. It wasn't the best lesson for me, the whole day wasnt good for me, and I'm guessing any one with any knowledge would be able to point out where I was going wrong - I will say I wasn't the one who saddled Harriot (the horse) so I can't be blamed for the fact that it was too far forward. The rest however is all my own mistakes.

Note to Self

Its well known that there are a few things in life which in hindsight should be considered a bad idea. A childrens birthday party hosted by Micheal Jackson would be one. Another would be invading Iraq when the detailed plan only goes as far as the pages covering the actual invasion, "hell lets just make the rest of it up as we go along, I mean how hard can it be?"

I can can now add another: A Saturday night bender of stomach churning proportions with a 2 hour riding lesson chaser on Sunday.

Thats just a whole world of pain.

Familys

Familys are wonderful things, with out them we wouldn't get through the day some times. Christmas wouldnt be the same. You would have no one to turn to when things go wrong and less people to remember some of the stupid things you did as a kid, and then tell all you nice new friends who don't know what a pillock you used to be.

However, some times they are a bunch of insensitive, ignorant tossers.

The Further Adventures of Giffy

Went for a ride today, in preparation for starting my jumping lessons next week. I think I have said before that the stables are on top of a hill. Now at the moment as any one in this country knows despite the fact its spring there is a very chill wind blowing in from Narnia. At the stables there is still snow on the ground and the wind is coming in straight from Siberia with the only thing in its way being the North Sea. Not what you could describe as warm. The stables are close to Bronte country and as we set off in a full blown Wuthering Heights style tempest I had to question my sanity. First as I say I'm sat on a horse with the coldest of winds coming straight at me at unnatural speeds. It was howling, I swear you could hear the banshee's coming home from St Patricks night. The right side of my face was numb in the -god knows what ever windchill.

But the second reason is I'm sat on Giffy. Giffy is the only horse to have ever thrown me. She is what might you call a wee bit of a spirited mare and she doesn't like going too slow. Today was the first time I rode her since she had the nerve to dismount me. It was fantastic. She hasn't calmed down any and on the canter its a race to the finish as far as she is concerned. The only problem being that the finish in her head is 50 meters further on than every one else's.

J was up front on Herbie, who as an arab is no mean slouch. I was struggling to stay tucked in behind Herbie and J as much as possible fearful that if Giffy saw the open path she would go for it. The first canter was a small one up hill. Herbie set off fine and Giffy, always one for setting off at speed was very close behind.

In fact by this point Giffy realised that Herbie was not going to go as fast as she wanted so instead she decided to buck mid canter. Oh joy, 1st change of underwear required. On the second canter Herbie decided he wasn't going to be shown up and set off like a cartoon animal, all legs and mud. That's all that Giffy needed. For me that's what ridding about; hell for leather along a muddy track with trees and branches whacking in to you, mud flying up from the horse in front and the feeling that death (or his close relative painful injury) is close by. Its like being on a motor bike and opening up the throttle - the only difference being on a bike you have a break. On a horse you have to trust that when it comes to it your horse is going to listen...this time.

She didn't! J shouted that she was slowing down as we neared the end of the canter, although from where I was I saw no break lights on Herbie. Giffy slowed down a tad. As we got to the end, where Herbie did stop, Giffy decide this was fun and carried straight on. This was not helped by the horses in the field next to us who wanted to join in the fun.

I let Giffy go on for a bit more to get past the nutters in the field and then slowed her to a very lively "I want to gallop" trot. J caught up and eventually got back in front as I was doing everything in the book to calm Giffy down. Sitting upright (not leaning forward and grabbing hold of her neck as wanted to do), keeping my hands down low, and trying to relax myself.

That was the heard part because to be honest I was with Giffy that was fantastic. When you are going fast on a horse there is nothing on this earth like it. Now if only I can do that and develop control then I'll call my self a rider.

Dave by candlelight

Dave by candlelight
Originally uploaded by fast eddie 42.

So far on this blog I have tended to draw attention to my own photos. I think its about time that I actually highlighted some great photos. These are the ones I have marked as my favourites as I meandered though Flickr.

So today I would like to present "Dave by Candelight" fast eddie 42. It is seeing photos like this that encourages me to continue taking pictures. Although to be fair I think he was bloody lucky to bump into some kind of dickensian santa claus in a pub in Wakefield...now if only the pen had been a quill.

Any way I think your drawn in from the start. From the way that Dave is looking directly in to the camera he holds your gaze. The colours are just sumptious and the the whole thing just looks timeless. Infact if wasn't for the pen you would wonder if this was staged.

A Colour Bar in the Bar

I'm not sure if its my age, the wedding plans or the weather but I have of late been thinking a lot about the places where I used to live. On reflection I think nostalgia runs in the family. For the last 3 years Christmas has been punctuated by a continuing row over where we went on holiday in 1976. With, if I have the facts of this Byzantine row correct, the pro Isle of Wight camp claiming the evidence of what was number one, the weather and an Apollo mission all to no avail. The jury is not so much out as fast approaching senility.

I digress, my own nostalgic meanderings was encouraging me to think about visiting all of my old homes. I have no earthly or logical reason why I would want to do this I just thought I might. I should add that I have lived in many places starting in the East End of London via various London locations, Oxford, Norfolk and a few places in America before washing up in the North.

The ironic thing is that the only place I have revisited in any meaningful way is no longer there. In about 1974, my brother would be able to give you the exact dates plus who was number 1 at the time and what the weather was - I on the other hand have a sex life - we lived for a brief period in a Pub called the Railway Tavern in Mile End. This was a fantastic old Victorian pub. At the time to my eyes it was huge. It was the kind of pub that had character, the kind that chains now attempt to create with MDF. Only they don't seem to understand that real character isn't clean and doesn't come in flat pack.

I think we were only there for a summer but the memories of that place are some of the most potent I have. At the time Mile End was the kind of place that any self respecting person was trying to move away from. The East End was still the East End, the docks were still a viable industry and on the whole most people were trying to move out of cities.

One of the most powerful memories I have of the place is the informal colour bar that operated. For those not familiar with the traditional British pub they had two bars. The Public bar where the working men drank and the Lounge where the ladies and alleged better types drank. You could tell the difference because the Lounge had carpet, and in some cases charged a bit more - for the same drinks. In the Railway Tavern the Afro-Carribeans all seemed to drink in the Public bar and the white folks so to speak in the lounge. I say it was strange because this wasn't as far as I recall standard practice in the country at the time and people went from one bar to the other quite regular. It could be the rosy glasses of youth but every one I checked with has confirmed it there was no animosity. People used to have friends across the racial divide and would some times drink in the other bar and no one had any problem with it. But for most of the time everyone would stick to there own bars.

As I say every one got on with every one else black and white. We were only there for a summer and I don't think I saw any trouble. To my eyes it seems they were all friends buying each other drinks across the two bars rather than socialising in the same one.

Which only makes it stranger that when I visited a friend from university who comes from Bristol that I discovered he had moved into the same street where the pub was.

The Railway Tavern is no longer there, like many useful buildings it has been converted to flats for people looking for character. Only they now cost more than a whole street would have in the days when the place still had character. I was surprised that as I stood outside looking up at this now strangely small Victorian building lost in the music of Suzi Quatro and long hot summers that I wasn't arrested. One of the residents did came out to 'politely' enquire what the bloody hell was I doing and was I alright. I equally politely babbled something about having lived here many years ago and shuffled off, she didn't seem the kind to be interested in local history.

That said I have to console my self with that although I miss the place the fact that people don't see the need to separate themselves any more is a good thing. Its just that the loss of a community and character seems a high price to pay. As a kid I loved it and I think if I had stayed there I would have loved London. As it is my family moved and despite coming from London it now holds very little attraction for me. Yet ironically the desire of so many people from out side London to want to live there is feeding this monster of change.

Johns Background Switcher

Look Up, Mr. Cameron
Originally uploaded by Fack to Bront.

Every once in while you stumble across an application that changes the way you work or see the world. This might seem like a big boast for a little app. Especially when all it does is changes the photos on your desktop but when its combined with Flikr it can bring your desk top alive.

Johns Background Switcher is a fantastic little gadget. You can set it up to swap your desktop photos between every hour, every month or when every you want.

You can have it selecting photos from a folder on your machine or, and this is the bit that I really like, from Flikr.

You can select an individuals photo stream, or a set or like me your own favorites. Ever since being on Flikr i have been marking photos as fav's but hardly ever seeing them again. Now every once in a while this chap apears on my desktop.

One second I have a fantastic landscape the next this mans face with soooooo many expriences. As I say a great little gadget.

The Barefoot Trimmer in Action

Mike the Barefoot Trimmer
Originally uploaded by Stuart Davies.

For some time now J has been quite evangelical concerning the advantages of going Barefoot. Originally I thought she was going all hippy and free love on me. I was expecting the house to be filled with the smell of insence and groovy chicks. No such luck.

Instead what J was talking about is removing Phoenix's shoes. The idea as I understand it is that shoeing horses makes their hoofs grow unaturally. This then has an impact on the way the horse walks and can give it back problems. I always thought having a fat lump like me sitting on its back would have been cause enough.

Some 6 months ago J removed the shoes but this has meant having to have his feet manicured, sorry trimmed, every 6 weeks or so until his hoofs return to their natural shape.

Enter Mike the Barefoot Trimmer. To describe it as trimming is I think wrong, its more like a major nail filing than triming. The only thing missing was the application of varnish at the end.

I suppose when you think about it horses in the wild don't drop by for a quick shoeing. I would also tend to support the notion that 10,000 years of evolution probably outweighs a good idea by mankind. Shoes were I gather only used becuase working animals were damaging there feet by continual use on hard surfaces. Not a problem for the majority of most domestic horses today and yet we still put shoes on becuase we always did. What I can say is that it seems to work. He is more confident when walking. Slips less and his hoofs are in better condition than when she started.

I guess this just supports the notion that every once in awhile you need to revisit what you are doing to see if it still makes sense, and if not ditch it.

As per usual loads of photos of it can be found here and here are some links to other sites about the subject.

Hoof Rehabilitation Specialist
Barefoot Horse Uk

Blair, God and Alice in Wonderland

Let me first say this so that there is no confusion. I think Tony Blair has put British Troops and by extension British Civilians at risk by going to war in the way that he did. I also think that the idea of an all powerful god creator be they Jewish, Christian or Islamic is laughable. I think that the Labour government of Tony Blair has betrayed the people of this country who voted for him and is over seeing the wholesale destruction of civil liberties. On the whole I think its fair to say I am no defender of his Tonyness.

Today I have just seen the headlines about his interview with Parkinson where the Prime Minister says that, 'God is my Judge'. The ITV News would have you believe that his statement was contraversial. That God had told him to invade Iraq. That this is proof that he is fruit cake of biblical proportions and that he is going to offend the entire middle east.

Given what I said above can I be the first to say what a load of bollocks.

We know that Tony Blair is a committed Christian so it would be strange if he didn't say something along the lines of:

"In the end, there is a judgment that, I think if you have faith about these things, you realise that judgment is made by other people... And if you believe in God, it's made by God as well.

When you're faced with a decision like that, some of those decisions have been very, very difficult, most of all because you know these are people's lives and, in some case, their deaths.

The only way you can take a decision like that is to do the right thing according to your conscience."

I'm not a man of faith, but if I am correct then what i think he is saying is: he is a man of faith and when making difficult decisions eventually he has to have faith that the decision in his heart is his gods as well.

Not exactly earth shattering given his a commited christain is it?

Personally, I've had to make a couple of tough decisions in life where the answer was not crystal clear - nothing like sending people to fight a war based on dodgey dossiers mind you. Some times it comes to a gut decision as to what's the right thing to do. In those situations you have to have faith that your gut decision is correct (be it devine inspiration or years of getting burnt making you lean away from stupid decision).

Now I have always felt that Tony thinks he is doing the right thing and has effectively lied to us "for our own good." This doesn't make him right, but it doesn't make him barking mad either. Tony Blair is 100% responsible for the decisions of Tony Blair, even those he thinks are Gods.

If the Prime Ministers beliefs offends any one then the chances are they are as deluded as he is. If you are a Muslim pissed of with the west (rightly or wrongly) i'm guessing having a buch of represive governments electrocuting you into thinking the right way supported by the west or having a load of tanks on your lawn is possibly going to be a bit more upsetting. As for this twaddle put around that the Crusades are a scar on the muslim psyche. If I recall both sides went at it in equal measure and the Muslims won. And if you think there is only one true god and all unbelivers must die then to be honest your probably going to be offended by everything.

What the whole charade does do is show up the Alice in Wonderland nature of British Politics. We have a State Religion of which the Monarch is the head. America has the separation of Church and State. In Britain elected politicians 'don't do god.' Sure mention your strange fetish having sex by yourself in a bin liner with an orange in your mouth but do not mention god. In America the elected politicians can't shut up about the guy upstairs. Religion plays a central role in politics. In Britain opening a church fete is deemed risky.

Just for the record I prefer the British way, with the exception of the orange and the bin liner.

This whole thing is a bit like the fact that we are meant to be a democracy but individually you have a greater chance of winning the lottery than your vote making a difference. We have an elected dictatorship directed by a small pool of some 800,000 swing voters in a small number of consituencies.

Its like the fact that we are a monarchy, yet they are powerless. All their power and privileges reside with the prime minister acting as the crown in parliament.

Its like the fact that the government is held accountable by a legislature of which it controls the majority.

Its like the fact that the only part of the legislature that is attempting to hold the government to account is the undemocratic unelected House of Lords.

Its like the fact that the British Parliament legislates for Britain. Except for those areas that are covered by the Scottish Parliament and the Welsh Assembly so is really an English Parliament...but not.

The thing is I can't quite make my mind up. Is this the start of the closing chorus by Mr Blair or more worryingly a distraction from everything else thats going on? What ever it is it isn't the news story every one thinks its going to be.

When the spotlight is centre stage look to the wings.

The Busy British Army

Sparked by the thought in the previous post i was fascinated by the idea that i didn't know all the conflicts that British troops had been involved in since WWII. So trusting in the fact that Google is my friend and Wikipedia is the pool of all wisdom (give or take a few fibs here or there) i went off to find out.

• World War II (1939–1945)
• Anglo-Iraqi War (1941)
• Greek Civil War (1941–1949)
• Malayan Emergency (1948–1960)
• Korean War (1950–1953)
• Mau Mau Uprising (1952–1960)
• Cyprus Emergency (1955–1959)
• Suez Crisis (1956)
• Brunei Uprising (1962)
• Indonesia-Malaysia confrontation (1962–1966)
• Aden Emergency (1963–1967)
• Northern Ireland Troubles (1969-mid 1990s)
• Falklands War (1982)
• The First Gulf War (1990–1991)
• The Bosnian War (1995–1996)
• The Kosovo War (1999)
• Sierra Leone Civil War (2000)
• The Afghanistan War (2001–2002)
• Iraq War (2003)
• Iraqi insurgency (2003–Present)

Now apart from the Anglo-Iraqi conflict of 1941 which I swear I'd never heard of I think I knew of all of these. But its shocking to see the list. If my caculations are correct good god there are only 5 odd years where the British army were not actually doing there job.

Thats just 5 years give or take where the British Army have not been fighting some one or other. Some of these i would strongly agree with and others i wouldnt, thats not the point. As far as most British people are concerned the last war of note was WWII and the Falklands was a last hurrah against fascists in funny uniforms. So to actually see the list was quite sobering.

Whaa!! Snow at last!

Snow on the road
Originally uploaded by Stuart Davies.

Finally some proper snow for winter. Ok so its not exactly 'Day After tomorrow', and I'm not expecting polar bears to start strolling down my street yet but its a start. Probably all we are likely to get as well so I'm making the most of it.

luckily I was 'working' from home so it didn't cause me any grief. Everyone else on the other hand seems to have been caught out by it. J Took 2 hours to get back from work. Texting me every time she managed to move 200 yards.

Some bloke was sounding off in a disgusted of Hebden Bridge sort of way about the atrocious weather forecast on the Guardian talk web site.

Not sure who he wants to blame, maybe the government should resign ;). Oh the irony, Tony Blair and crew resign over a bit of snow in the hills rather than an illegal war, some decidedly dodgey dealings with Belisconi and the largest curtailment of civil rights in this country since the war (Just realised that I need to qualify this as WWII not GW II, GW I, Falklands, Malay, Aden and so many more that I can't quite recall them all).

Thing is it wasn't that bad. It seems people just don't know how to drive in the snow in this country.

Any way all I had to do was ring J make sure she was ok every once in a while, grab my camera and wonder off down the lane. Could have got some cracking photos if I'd driven some where but what? Do you think I'm stupid? Hell no.

Any way the photos I did get weren't great but can be found in the Snow Day set on Flickr.