Author: Buck

Right, I’m going to try and catch up. This could be quite a long entry. I’m going to omit the stuff on the Palestinian holocaust because it’s to awful. If you want to see pictures of babies blown in half, well, you need help. And straight away I’m going to post something. Just in case you thought the “war” was an isolated incident. The percentage of Palestine that Israel occupied from 1947 to now, as translated to the UK. And this, while it’s about the Israeli genocide of Palestinians, could be about anything and is my favourite banner of all time. "don’t be sad" ok im better now thank u Hangman is a game that teaches kids how to spell, that words can be fun, and that failure is punished with death. Confused, #RToday. #Putin ‘created conditions for #MH17 by giving arms to rebels’ but #Cameron‘ll take no blame for how Russia uses UK arms? I’m loving the birthday pics of Kate and Will and their lovely little boy George The accidentally killed are just as dead as the intentionally killed. HOT SINGLES IN YOUR AREA, MOUTHS AGAPE, LUMINESCENT TONGUES LOLLING, KEENING WELCOME TO THE VOID BORN, SUNKEN HYMNS OPENING FORGOTTEN WAYS Dog faints with ‘overwhelming joy’ when owner returns after two years away http://itv.co/1l1HK1n Just like Tony Blair and New Labour was Thatcher’s ‘greatest achievement’ I’m sure Hitler, if asked today, would say same about Netanyahu. When you complain about dropping your phone remember that there are people who are starving who’ll totally make you another one. Why is it, when a girl sleeps with a lot of guys, she’s a slut. But when a guy does it, he’s gay? MrsGod noted: It’s all very well having a son who can turn water into wine but that’s the third goldfish we’ve had to send to rehab . . After MH370 and MH17 Malaysian Airlines may change its name. #Israel is considering changing its name also. To Mordor. HOT SINGLES IN YOUR AREA,JOINING HANDS,WHISPERING THE FINAL WORDS AS ONE, RENDING THE VEIL,THEIR DEATHS GLEEFUL AS THE FLAYED MASTER EMERGES I apologise for using the asexual-exclusionary term LGBTQI two tweets ago. I meant to say QUILTBAG. "It’s never a good time to be hit by an asteroid." Dinosaur expert Richard Butler #r4today This dog was left in this car on the hottest day of the year with no water or ventilation. It has both now Barcodes that start 729  or 871 are Israeli. Tweeting to remind myself. #BoycottIsrael WEATHER: Storms and flash floods hit the south of England affecting, presumably, the whole country. That awkward moment when Satan is a perfectly acceptable option for your kids. Incredible! This Man did the unthinkable to rescue a 400-kb #BlackBear! http://onegr.pl/1qHtlQ2 My favourite thing about feminists is their boobs. FINANANCE: Lloyds bank guilty of defrauding taxpayer of ‘tens of billions of pounds.’ We ask, does YOUR neighbour have an empty bedroom? i like my women curvy. lots and lots of curves. all curves. circular. […]

Just a quick update. I went to the induction for my new job. 3 hours of signing off on papers you haven’t read and ticking all the H&S boxes. They have changed the pay structure, 50p per hour more, no overtime rate. Just done a quick calculation, say 52½ hour week, take off ½ hour per day for break, so 50 hours. Old rate, £520, new rate £515. And it used to be more for Saturday, plus time and a third for any overtime, that’s now flat rate as well. Sundays are £14, flat rate. They wouldn’t have changed it if it didn’t cost them less. Anyway, that’s a bit shitter. After the induction they were keen to get me started, Mon-Fri, every other Sunday. It’s the days aspect and the guaranteed work that appeals. So they said they’d text me with a time for a driving assessment by 19.00 hrs. They didn’t. The next day I got one asking could I make the assessment at 017.00. I turned up  and there was a Polish lad from the previous day’s induction there. Which meant two drivers for one assessor. An immediate fail. The security guard had no idea we were supposed to be there and couldn’t raise anyone on the ‘phone. We went and sat in the canteen. An hour late we were still waiting when two other drivers arrived for their 18.00hrs assessments. At 18.15 the assessor turned up. The company, desperate to recruit drivers, changed their M.O. to give a contract they are that keen to secure drivers, keen to give a good first impression, were that tight they wouldn’t even allocate the assessor a shift to assess, with at least 4 drivers booked in, they had him out doing runs as well! The guy said “I’m going out on another run lads, so I can’t assess you both. If one of you wants to come out with me I can assess you then.” He wanted one of us to go and drive with him while he did a full shift. Until at least 03.00hrs. Unpaid. He said “This is transport, lads. You can either come out with me or wait until we can fit you in for another assessment.” No mate, we all work in transport. This isn’t transport what this is, is a piss take. I walked out. I’m calm now. I was furious at the time. I said “I’ve been here over an hour already, I’ve got a sick mrs at home in bed…”  The main transport manager was hovering over his shoulder, presumably to see if we had a can-do attitude. I cared not a whit. Anyway, the texted me the next day and asked “Can you start on Friday?” No assessment. FFS! And she said it’s more likely to be dinner time starts, as opposed to mornings. The two start times I’ve got so far are Friday 18.00hrs (not dinner time) then Sunday 03.30hrs (way not dinner time) so Saturday, my day off, […]

I’ve had enough of nights and the uncertainty of agency work. I’ve applied for the full time, days, job at Hermes. I have my induction on Monday. I did the maths, it’s been exactly half a year and I took home £11,856. If you take off the two weeks I would have had as holidays if I’d been PAYE it’s an average of £420 p/w take home. Hermes are promising a minimum of 45 hours per week, with thing like time and a third for anything over 8 hours, overtime more or less written into the job, extra for working weekend shifts, etc. I reckon on a 50 hour week I’ll be taking home at least the same. Plus it’s days. And I can take holidays. If you lose a week’s pay you just end up working and working. I think I’ve had two weeks holiday in the two and a half years I’ve been self employed/ Limited Company. I’ve had months, in total, sat around unpaid waiting for work, but that isn’t a holiday. You can’t relax, you can’t do anything, plan anything, or afford anything. If I wanted serious big bucks they have the option of a pound an hour more for nights, plus another pound or so for Limited Company, so you earn more and get stopped less tax, but that’s the same shit I’m in now. I’m willing to trade pound per hour for day shift and secure hours per week. Plus, as my chum on Twitter asked, ‘why are they suddenly offering a real job?’ Is it because now you need to have a driver’s CPC card there are less qualified drivers? Are all the new warehouses being built around Burtonwood offering better jobs? Something has changed. My point being, if this doesn’t work out as my ideal job I can look for other, full time, days, jobs. It is a pity about Walkers, mind. If there had been any prospect of me getting on to days or being taken on full time I’d have hung in there. It’s great money and an easy, no stress job. But there are lads there who’ve been on the agency for years and not got full time out of it. And I’ve found out they jacked me out on that nights out gig. Apparently it is running, with agency lads, but they wouldn’t give me a sniff because they have trouble filling the night shift, so they only let the day lads play. That was a blow. Nights are killing me at the minute, I just can’t get the sleep. The neighbours noisy kids on school holidays, the heat and just generally not sleeping well in the day.   I forgot to mention in my last blog, what with the concussion and all, but since I have stopped trying to adjust my gait to avoid injury my injury has got a lot better. *sour face* I did a 20 mile run last Sunday. The first 10 miles were […]

I’m using that as a metaphor, btw. I find it fascinating that one cannot remember pain. You remember the sweats, the swearing, thinking death would be a mercy, but you can’t remember what the pain felt like. So it was with crashing my lovely, lovely motorcycle. Not the pain (metaphor remember? Pay attention at the back.) but the feeling of being fully alive. I’d forgotten. Or rather remembered as one remembers pain. I took it as a truism, that while “the prospect of being hanged focuses the mind wonderfully” it is nothing like as focusing as the reality of imminent pain and possibly sudden, violent death. And then, your front end is skipping around at stupid speeds and you are heading into a roundabout at stupid speeds unable to break. Suddenly it all comes back to you. However briefly. I can see why in my feckless youth I pursued that experience. There is nothing quite like it. You either live or die, but you are 100% alive until then. I can’t say I’m as fond now, in my later years. The pain and damage to my bike don’t seem worth it. But it is a hell of a rush. In case you’re wondering what the hell I’m on about, I’ll start from the beginning. I was riding to work on Friday night. It was 23.20, no traffic, bone dry roads, ideal conditions in other words. I was chugging along in a 40 zone, I saw the traffic lights were on green so I blipped the throttle to get to them before they changed. I was focused on the lights, no traffic, no worries. I saw I was going to make it through the lights so I went to jam on the brakes, only to find some utter bastard of a lorry driver had shed half of his load of sand on the road. It was 2 inches thick, loose dry sand. The front end started skipping about like crazy so I had to let the brakes off or crash. I hung on as I skipped over the sand, miraculously staying upright but by the time I had regained control I was still going too fast with the width of one lane between me and the roundabout. I had time to think “this is going to hurt”, *island amnesia* over the handlebars landed on my head, thought “dead”, *island amnesia* put head up looked around, on roundabout, put head back down *pain* “how’s my bike?” Odd. The calm “this is going to hurt”, the equally calm “dead” when I thought I was going to snap my neck, then no continuity like “ooh, not dead” Or “my that smarts” just; aware of the pain, “how’s my bike?” Anyway, the good new is I just bent my brake pedal and bent my handlebars a bit, and snapped something off my helmet. And grazed one engine casing. Nothing too serious. Buggered both my wrists and bashed my groin badly. And battered my ribs. And […]

Still loving my bike. It is bloody lovely. After I’d blogged last time I thought of a few things I should have added. For one thing I do seem to have learned restraint. In the past I’d tootle along until someone was in my way then I’d blast past them. And the one in front of them. I was a Pringle overtaker, once I’d popped I just couldn’t stop. Until Mr Plod had a word or I was picking the remains of my bike up. It was great fun, but not conducive to long periods of safe motorcycling. Anyway, I said about finding the torque-y part of the rev range on the same ride as I came off the motorway a BMW tried to pass me on the inside. I was feeling a bit sporty so I held him off. Then we came up behind an artic (bastard lorry drivers!) and I thought “let’s see you do this, sunshine”, I could have blasted down the separation zone, the foot or so wide bit painted down the middle to keep the traffic apart. This would have left me with millimetres to spare if a lorry had turned up the other way. This would not have even been a consideration before, I would have shot past and any potential oncoming traffic would have to make way or kill me. I di the unthinkable; I dropped off the revs and sat behind the lorry! Nothing came the other way, so I could have done it, but strangely I didn’t care. I’m still not too concerned about crashing and dying horribly, I’m just terrified of smashing up my lovely bike. So that’s good. I spotted some groovy gauntlets on ebay. My gloves are mad hot and not gauntlets. I’m of the old school. Gauntlets are what you wear on a motorcycle. Check that out for groovy! Half way to my elbow, thick but pliant leather with wool lining. When I convert it to a cafe racer I’m going to go the whole hog and get an open face helmet and goggles. And a white scarf. And boots with buckles. I’m drawing the line at turned up blue jeans though. Just looking and I am tempted by a modern take on the open face helmet. You know those pilot’s helmets with the slide down darkened visor/ sunglasses thing? That. Look I don’t know. I think the goggles and helmet look wins out if you can get it to work. The last time I had it the goggles were too big, wouldn’t fit in the helmet open face, so were totally useless. Try before I buy next time. If the goggles don’t work the above is an option.   You know the ongoing saga of my shin injury? I thought it might be related to my over-pronation, ie rolling my foot outwards as I run. Obviously this puts undue strain on things. And I had that massive injury when I tried to rush the conversion to […]