20 May 2017
Alice took these pictures earlier in the week.
Get out of there!
Are you listening you furry swine?
Not sure what he was after but he was certainly up to no good.
Back in the box room at home this week. Out the window the dark clouds look like they want to be busier but really can’t be bothered, so are making the token gesture of providing a bit of drizzle.
Just four days at work this week as Monday was spent travelling home, however Wednesday was like working two days in one.
Rising at 4am I left just before 5 destined for Edinburgh. The journey would usually be spent dozing on a train, but for reasons too boring to go into this time I had to drive.
Driving to Edinburgh sounds simple enough but it is not a trip to be attempted lightly. To accommodate the new bridge being built over the Firth of Forth, traffic is being diverted along a series of temporary roads. These roads were clearly designed by a pissed man using a snake as a ruler. Lanes are roughly marked by randomly placed cones which are moved without warning by fat men leaning on shovels just so they have something to laugh at. This ensures massive queues and lots of people not knowing where they should be. Including me.
If I may digress for a moment – as the old bridge has been on the verge of collapse for some years, last October I treated the family to a day out. What a surprise it was for them to learn we were all going to ‘Walk the bridge’! Have to say some got more out of it than others.
You can feel the joy!
Despite the traffic turmoil I made it unscathed. Unfortunately when I got to the office I could not get in as no-one else had arrived. I considered alternative methods of entry but someone turned up and opened the door before I could find a suitable house brick.
The morning passed in a flash and at 2pm I left for Glasgow. I spent the train journey sitting next to a very handsome young rugby player. He was reading Dante’s Comedy of Errors while listening to thrash metal very loudly on his headphones. Quite how he managed to inwardly digest 12th century Italian poetry while listening to Cradle of Filth is something I will ponder for some time.
The Glasgow office is at the top of a steep hill, the gradient of which would tax Sherpa Tensing. It was a hot day, my case was full of anvils and I am overweight. This being the case by the time I arrived I was hardly a shining example of manly desirability.
Ninety minutes later I was on my way back. The return journey was spent sitting across from a woman in sensible shoes who did little to hide her disgust at having to share a table with the scarlet faced sweaty blob sitting opposite.
I returned to the Edinburgh office and left for the hotel at 6.30pm. It was a very hot evening in the capital and as my early start had caught up with me I decided to take the tram to York Place. I bought my ticket, got on, then nothing happened.
We sat for a few minutes then the driver made an announcement. His cab was separated from the great unwashed by a full glass partition so we could see him upon his driverly throne. He adopted that uncaring nasal twang so beloved of British officials when delivering bad news. His expression turned to one of deepest sympathy and then he started to speak.
“Sorry ladies and gentleman. There has been an incident up ahead. We will not be going anywhere. Can’t say how long we will be stuck for”. And that was it.
Almost all my fellow passengers rose as one and rapidly left the tram, tutting and sighing as they went. I decided to stay. The sun was out, the seat comfy and I was just too tired to move.
The only other person left in my carriage was a very glamorous Spanish lady. She had a huge pile of jet black hair on top of her head and wore sunglasses the size of dinner plates. She was poking at her phone like an expert pickpocket then suddenly started to shout.
“F__K! F__king hell! Jesus Christ!’ After the initial shock I wondered if she was seeking divine intervention to resolve the stationary tram problem.
I gave her my ‘A problem shared is a problem halved!’ look.
“Someone has been run over and killed outside Waverley station and they have closed the road!” she said. I nodded slowly.
This would indeed explain our delay.
“Mind you” she continued, swiping her phone with undue urgency “there is so much other s__t going on it could be any one of these things!”
Reassuring to know that ‘other serious incidents were available’.
By now the driver had poured his tea and was eating his sandwiches. His newspaper was propped against the dashboard. He paused his light supper to make another announcement. In a tone again heavily laden with face solemnity he said “Sorry again ladies and gentleman” (nice of him to make it clear he was speaking to both of us) “but this tram will soon be heading in the opposite direction back to the airport. As soon I have finished!” raising his cup as if giving us a toast. Spanish lady disappeared. I decided to walk. Only took an hour and a half.
I thought the week had peaked but it was not to be. Friday there was drama at Burger King. My walk to the station at home time was impeded by big red and white barriers and a closed road.
There were police, fire engines, ambulances and a tell-tale blue plastic screen. I immediately thought ‘dead body’ and did the same as everyone else. Which was to walk really slowly while trying and get a glimpse of the stiff.
I turned the corner at the next junction and was greeted by about 100 school children plus assorted nosey adults, all staring up in the air. Behind Burger King the fire brigade were trying to coax someone off the roof using one of their big lifting platforms.
The children did their bit to support the first responders by shouted things like ‘Jump you arsehole!’ Some repeatedly sang the chorus of ‘I believe I can fly’. So tasteful. Unlike Burger Kings offerings.
To finish two more gems from my favourite publication.
Quantifiable: 1. Measurable, countable 2. Unquantifable, lies and damn statistics; bewildering pie charts containing misleading averages to obscure the true picture.
Upskill: 1. Hire more people who can do the job properly; train existing staff to be better at what they do 2. ‘Up-‘ prefix twaddle; suggesting a northerly direction for skills; euphemism for pointing out that the current workforce is crap and can’t do the work effectively; stupid word to convey the need for more capable people.
Murrays Musings 