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So I’m watching ‘The Wright Stuff’ on the 28th August on Channel Five and, they had been doing their newspaper review and, I heard it said that the ‘new’ middle-age begins at fifty-three. Now, I’m fifty-three and, as I have said before quite proudly, “I made it this far…” And yes, I have to go slower and, take pauses when my hip or knee might dictate. But, I do enjoy my weekend trips with Barry, like last weekend at the beach down at Thurstaston, with a flask of coffee and rock buns. Aye, I’m fifty-three, with experience behind me and, interesting times still to enjoy…



Thursday had been a day that hadn’t been. In fact, I so wish it’d been replaced by another. I’d been half an hour late for the dole, so got an official caution; several of those and you get sanctioned, meaning your benefit is threatened. And, I’d only been late ‘coz I thought that had been my appointment time. Anyway, I’ve known for awhile they don’t know what to do with me, since I left the work programme and, as I’ve shown interest in First-Aid And Health and Safety, they’re using that as a hook to get me onto a two-bit college seven week course, that’ll take me into October, when all the changes happen, like this single universal credit. As for what the course is? Well, I don’t know yet. All I know is I have a date for the interview and the course follows that. I swear down, I’m just a piece of meat, for these agencies and two-bit colleges to acquire funding for, to keep grey-suits in jobs. If they spent a portion of the money they waste on these courses was spent on job-creation, many long-term unemployed like me might finally find ‘gainful employment.’

It’s 24th August 2013 and I hear a government spokeswoman on the radio telling me not to be concerned about the cost of the new high-speed line and, it’s not spiralling out of control. And anyway, fourteen billion pound has just been set aside in case of contingencies. “So, that’s alright then, isn’t it?”

With a couple of breaks, I watched the new star trek film Wednesday night, fully aware of what the critics had been saying over it; and that some fans had called it the worst yet. Well, having watched it and made up my own mind, I urge others to do the same, give it a good, ‘coz in my opinion, the critics got it wrong. I’d go further, it’s a good film. The pity is, ‘coz of the storyline, many die-hard fans are comparing it to wrath of khan and good as he is, Benedict Cumberbatch is no Ricardo Montabalan. That said, I’ve been watching the show since the first of the pilots and as I say, I liked it. And, truth be told, jj abrahms does continue to re-write the star trek book, as it were; but no-one complained ‘bout doctor who and, I’m starting to warm to this re-boot of the star trek franchise… And I nearly forgot the tribbles and, kirks twins with tails… aye, good film… definitely.

COMMENTS

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RedQueen
06:35 Aug 28 2013

If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times- there are plenty of episodes from that series that could have made a good plotline for a movie- WHY in the name of all that is holy does Hollyweird have to keep repeating itself?



And BEN AFFLECK AS BATMAN?



Please...

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Barry’s a bit of a football nut. Oh not as bad as many, but the first match of the season? Well, it had to be seen, or heard; but preferably seen. That meant going to a pub, where he’d drink a shandy and if I went, I’d enjoy a pint, as we would watch the match, in a pub that he feels okay about, that gets the matches. That meant a good pub in Frodsham, good beer and, two older women sitting just ahead to my left, with one flirting outrageously with the young barman. Thankfully Liverpool won, the showers were pleasant on a generally sunny day and the countryside round that beautiful little town looked fresh and quite lovely. Then come Sunday I had acquired a copy of ‘Kickass 2’ that had been worth watching, with the sound good enough to hear well. I’d only got it to see what I’d think of the story, which I’d thought shouldn’t have been made, as the first had told what needed to tell. Then come the last few minutes I’d understood, as the last few sentences spoken had clarified everything, for me.

It’s funny, no matter how many jobs I’ve applied for, I still feel gutted when one of those envelope letters is slid beneath my bedroom door, by my Mother in the past and, now my Father. I had opened the letter I’d received on Thursday and had read it’s contents with growing bemusement, then annoyance. If one reads this darn thing, it reads as though I’d already gone through the first stage of the application with Human Resources, when in reality all I’d done was make enquires about application form for the post. And then the thought had occurred to me that the member of staff I’d spoken to for awhile, while I asked about the job, had ‘done me the favour’ of providing written confirmation for the dole, that I’m applying for jobs. Either she didn’t take my application seriously, or she was being kind. Either way, I’d still been gutted to receive that letter, just as I had that very first job application rejection, all those years ago…

After the housework I went out in the sun and wind, just after the rain to get the milk. While I was out it seemed so pleasant that I decided to go a walk, to Raby Mere. While I’d sat on the wall smoking my smoke, I found myself wondering how many years I’d been sitting there. I recall me being sixteen. So, I’ve been happily sitting on that wall in my peaceful place since then…

Thursday had been a fight for your travel money day at the dole, Friday had been a tad manic an all, and then on Saturday Barry called round. We did the shopping; trying to get what was on ‘the list’, with the added incentive for me, that when we finished we’d go see the giant Dalek. Well, with pleasant weather we went down winding lanes, in beautiful countryside, till we reached Sugbury Farm near Nantwich and, I’d got to see my giant Dalek, made of straw and about 50 foot in height.

Come the evening I made a short film called ‘Day Of The Dalek’ from several of the short clips Barry took for me and put it on Dailymotion, feeling quite satisfied with what I’d made…

By the time Barry left on Saturday, after dropping me off on Saturday, we both had headaches, as the day had most assuredly not gone as planned. We’d gone to Liverpool, leaving pretty early; both of us believing that we’d have a good day. Well, the football match he believed would be on Sunday was on Saturday; and the Gay Pride march I believed would be on Sunday was also on the Saturday. Needless to say, finding a car parking spec in Liverpool is bad anyway, on Saturday it was ludicrous. We’d go down one road, meet the parade, take a diversion, then encounter it again. An, when we did park up, where he knew, town itself was Hellspawn itself, leading Barry to put his headache down to ‘gaggling.’ Later I’d turned ‘gaggling’ into a gaggle of gaggling gagglers. Either way, town was full of lots of people saying a lot a saying nothing, I’d thought. Anyway, as we went through town, a glass bottle had landed just behind me, thrown by one of two stedheads, at a chubby, who’d run past us twice, looking quite frightening. Suffice to say, the day hadn’t gone as we’d wanted, at all. An, it had been way to humid, for that sort of running around in traffic

Thankfully Sunday had been a far better day all round. For a start, the air was cooler after rainfall and, although the sun was back, there’d been enough of a wind to take the edge off. We’d gone to Ellesmere Port first, where I’d got Dad’s Rum & Raisin Bournville chocolate. Bar. An, as I had waited at the till, someone dropped a bottle, which hadn’t smashed. As I’d got served I’d said to the young lady serving me, with bleach blonde hair and a lip ring, “Pity those weren’t around in Liverpool yesterday.’

I’d been referring to unbreakable glass, after what had happened on Saturday in Liverpool. “So you were at Pride?” She’d asked, to which I’d erred and ummed, then acknowledged I had. It was only much later when I relayed the story to Barry that he said I wasn’t telling the truth, to which I had said I had, ‘coz strictly speaking I had been in Liverpool at the March, as it passed by. So I had been able to say to the blonde honestly, ‘I might’ve seen you there.’ But, I digress, after the shops Barry had dropped the car off and, bag over my shoulder with a poly tub, we went cherry picking off some tree sat the entrance to the estate where one of his sisters lives. And, besides those we ate, I ended up with about a 1lb in weight. Once home, we had a coffee and chat awhile, before he left and, I settled down to watch and the BBC’s ‘ ‘Doctor Who’ special, were Peter Capaldi, of ‘The Thick Of It’ was announced as the new Doctor. Well, ignoring the hype and the razzmatazz, I think he’ll be good in the role and, a distinct change from Matt Smith, or even David Tennant…

On Saturday Dad and I had part of a store-bought red-cherry crumble, well on Tuesday before I did our fish ‘n chips {in my case cheese pasta} meal, I prepared then cooked a cherry crumble, with the fruit I picked with Barry... it took ages to take the stones out of a pound of black cherries {with a few red one's in there an all.} After we’d finished the crumble, served with custard, I asked Dad which he’d preferred, the store-bought, or my crumble: he voted for mine!

Well Thursday brought back the sun and overt humidity and, the prospect of no voluntary work, in the evening.



I’d a report about me to pick up from Ingeus in Birkenhead, then after a whiskey I’d made my way to a meeting with a lady from Connections at Bromborough office, rather than Birkenhead, as I’d want.



The meeting had gone as I’d wanted kinda; but it was still oppressively hot as I’d travelled. The meal had been the pizza that I usually have after the project and, it’d felt kinda strange, sitting down to eat with Dad.



Later I watched Tia Carrere in ‘Collision Course’, where she pulls the whole 'Airport' routine. I’d loved it.