Off On One Again

A blog of no interest to anyone apart from me. Highly egotistical. Somewhat ironic that once upon a time people kept diaries secret. Now we publish to the world, even if no-one is listening (or reading). This may include stuff on Greece, history, rugby, cricket, Health and Safety, Wales, genealogy and West Hendred. It will almost certainly include complete rants about things I find amusing, interesting or annoying. There is no guarantee that anyone will share my views!

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Location: Didcot, Oxon, United Kingdom

37, forgetful, cynical, sarcastic, would like to have been a struggling artist but ended up with a PhD in chemistry. Got bored with being in the lab, fell into Health and Safety and now can't get out of science without taking a pay cut. Rather enjoying the diversion into Environmental compliance. Unfit and terminally depressed. Lovely wife Sam - just about all that keeps me together. Son Rafferty GFX Hall born 24 Oct 2005 is growing up quickly. Greyhound (Buddy), cats (PJ and Boots), tortoises (Tinkerbell and Compost). Learning Greek at Evening Classes. Play Cricket badly for Didcot CC, haven't played rugby for years and am a little annoyed about that. According to my medical, am clincially obese. Earn far too little. Completed H&S and Environmental Diplomas

January 19, 2006

Joggers (2)

There is a rash upon Ladygrove. Tis joggers. Bloody New Year resolutions, can't move for people lookign like they are about to expire in front of the car. None wearing anything light or fluorescent, most wearing headphones and running into the road in front of me. Don't give me filthy looks you buggers.

January 16, 2006

Hair Cut

I had my hair cut at the weekend. This is notable as I last had a significant hair cut (i.e., not just taking the ends off) on 08 Aug 88.

I was aged 16 years and 257 days the last hair cut, and 34 years 50 days for the next. The second period was longer than the first: this was the first hair cut for over 17 years.

Admittedly, Sam did it in the kitchen with the bathroom scissors, but still
- a good 10 inches was removed to leave it slightly longer than shoulder length. The remains are in a bag in my bedside table.

Sam thinks I'm mad as I still have my goatee in my wallet.

January 13, 2006

Toilet Roll

It’s made with the end glued onto the next sheet below. How may times have I sat trying to unravel the last sheet when I really want to be somewhere else, doing something slightly more interesting. At work, the cleaners always fill the roll holders with a roll that is slightly too big. It basically means that you spend ages trying to move the roll around inch by inch, and after a couple of minutes you get the requisite number of sheets.

Mind you, I always have to use toilet roll in multiples of 4 sheets. Sam thinks I’m strange for this.

Cold Callers (home)

My best two successes at getting rid of cold callers:

Caller: We’re phoning about double glazing.
Me: I don’t want double glazing.
Caller: We’re a local company.
Me: I still don’t want double glazing.
Caller: Can I ask you why?
Me: Because people like you phone me up at ten o’clock on a Sunday morning. Goodbye.

Caller: I’m phoning about the Oxford Journal, I’m checking to see if you get it OK.
Me: We do, but it’s not very good, is it…
Caller (struggling): Ahh, er, well I don’t actually get it where I live, so I’ve never read it.
Me (exasperated): It goes straight in the recycling bin. Not a very good use of resources, is it.
Caller: We’ll remove you from the lists.
Me: Thank you, goodbye.
We still get the Oxford Journal. And the Oxford Star. And the Courier. None of them have anything vaguely interesting in them.

Sam’s father had the best ideas. He kept double glazing salesmen on the phone for a long time asking lots of details, saying for ages that it was interesting and a good idea. Then finally when they tried to arrange an appointment, he said: “well, you’ll have to talk to my landlord…”.

Junk Mail

I’ve also taken to sending all the junk mail back to the sender with a snotty note on it demanding to be taken off their mailing list. In Lynn Truss’ book , she describes a friend who sends small pieces of sheet metal back in the pre-paid envelopes. It makes them far heavier so the junk mailer has a large postage bill to pay.

Cold Callers (Work)

I get a lot of people trying to sell me things at work. That’s fine, I do play a game with myself trying to get rid of them as soon as I possibly can (about 20 seconds without being rude). However, I do get particularly annoyed with people who leave messages on my voicemail saying “My name is xxx from yyy Training. I’m sorry to have missed you. I’d appreciate it if you could give me a call back on xxxxxx”. Do they really expect me to waste my time phoning someone back so that they can sell me something I don’t want? I think not.

January 11, 2006

Garages

Does anyone on a modern housing estate actually use their garage for storing their cars?

Darts

After an acrimonious split a few years ago, there are now two world darts championships. The old WDC is shown on the BBC and has 32 players in a knockout tournament. The newer PDC has 64 players and is on Sky. It also has bigger prize money and arguably the better players. However, of all those 96 players, 68 represent England, and a further 10 from other parts of Britain. If only 20% of the entrants are from outside the British Isles, does that make either a truly “World” championship?

Greyhounds

At his coming of age ceremony aged 21, Prince Charles was presented with 2 greyhounds (along with a salmon spear and the deeds to the Duchy of Cornwall). I wonder what became of them, and how many races they won.

(c) Peter Snow last night on the BBC

Planet Rock

Old rock stars don’t die, they just start DJ’ing for Planet Rock. Sam bought me a DAB radio for Christmas, which is superb. I’ve got in tuned to Plant Rock – an excellent radio station playing rock from the late sixties through to the present day. The last two DJs I heard, however, were Rick Wakeman and Tony Iommi! Good music anyway.

Buddy's moods

Buddy is in a very strange mood at the moment. Whether its jealousy with Rafferty also being in the house I don’t know, but he keeps giving us very dirty looks. I took him for a walk last night and he ate several dropped chips, a couple of bits of chewing gum that were not quite integral parts of the tarmac, and at least two piles of cat poo. I assume that’s what it was – he skulked out of some long grass looking guilty and chewing furiously.

He spent the entire walk with his nose to the ground weaving from side to side on the path.

Joggers

Christmas has been here and gone. The New Year is upon us. Two things come from that: people have eaten too much and been lazy in the dark autumn and winter months, and many resolutions have been made.

It all results in lots of people taking up jogging. I've never been a great fan of jogging, unless its specifically related to training for sport. There are far better ways of getting fresh air or appreciating the countryside (walking for example, it hurts less), and far better ways of getting fit (joining a gym, and going, so you can do varied rather than single exercise).

However, my dealings with joggers so far this year have been:

Driving into an Oxford hospital with tow joggers abreast running down my side of the road towards me. I had to swerve when they gave me a filthy look for using the road. I suppose it wasn't far to A&E had I hit them.

While walking the dog around the estate, joggers run on the paths never wanting to stop or move out of their stride. This means that you have to get out of their way. I'm not sure what would happen if Buddy happened to be on the opposite side of the path to me with his lead stretched out (perfectly acceptable behiour, I am taking him for a walk after all) - if they fell over him or the lead would it then be my fault?

Joggers running towards me, then as soon as they have gone round a corner they stop. Likewise, you see somone walking in the distance - they see you and run past. If you can't manage it, don't do it. Don't just run when you can see someone. It does not impress me.... (cue Shania Twain song).

I must get to the gym.

Politeness and the modern office

I am currently reading Lynn Truss's excellent book on politeness and rudeness, "Talk To The Hand". It is a very good follow up to "Eats, Shoots and Leaves".

This prompted me to rant about the way that people treat you when you are at work, and really get priorities wrong. Several times a day, I visit my manager's office (this is only a few feet away). Almost without exception, we will be having a chat about something of middling to high importance, and his phone will ring. He will answer the phone and leave me standing waiting for hime to finish. To be fair, he usually apologises, but it does make it clear where you are in his priorities!

Most managers' offices will be equipped with four methods of getting information in, all of which at some stage will need a reply. Those are:

  • a post tray or in-tray for written communication;

  • a computer with email capabilites;

  • one or more telephones, each with voice mail capabilities and the option to divert calls to voice mail;

  • a door through which people can come in.


In a polite world, the occupant of an office would deal with a person physically standing there first, as phone, email and post can wait. Not answering the desk phone is the equivalent of not being in the office (i.e., having your meeting with the physical person in another location). Not answering your mobile is saying that not everything is critical for someone to get hold of me.

The phone should then take precedence over email and post - there is at least a person waiting at the other end.

What actually happens is that phone and sometimes email take precedence over the person standing in the office. Sheer, unexcusable, rudeness: unfortunately the way that society has developed. People don't even realise how their actions make their colleagues feel (not aimed specifically at my manager, I hasten to add!)