TECHNO TECHNO TECHNO

Bring on the technical revolution!

I want to be replaced by a robot with a brain the size of a planet that makes me look like I have the processing capability of a postage stamp.  Rejoice in redundancy!  In the future, we may not have any money but at least we’ll have personal freedom – the freedom to wake when we want to, dress how we like and squander our time on aimless pursuits such as counting cars (oh hang on, I think people actually get paid for doing that).

Life - just when you think it can't get any worse 

I want to be one of those 50 something’s who save far more towards holidays than healthcare.  I’d rather be swimming with real sharks (as opposed to battling those in financial institutions) and saving my energy (not to pay for extortionate utility bills or crazy renewable power schemes) but to climb to the top of some near extinct volcano.  Given the choice between an adventure holiday in some exotic location or Tena Lady and support tights, I know where those spare 5p’s will be going. 

Got any spare change?

Alas when it comes to automation,  it’s one step forward, two steps back in our office where ‘Those Who Call The Shots’ have decided to buy us an off-the-shelf IT system that falls surprisingly short of the term ‘artificial intelligence’.  Being 4 foot nothing, if I buy an off-the-shelf pair of jeans at least I know I can hem them when I get home.  However, in the corporate world when you buy an off-the-shelf IT system then if you’re a one legged midget you’re destined to spend the rest of your working life tripping up on a super-sized leg length.  Enhancements cost money and like common sense, this appears to be something in short supply at our workplace.

Bring on the technical revolution!  My office PC is being replaced by a system with the processing capability of a postage stamp that will make me look like I have a brain the size of a planet.  It will triple my workload and lessen my productivity.  It will make my grey hairs greyer, the air bluer with profanity and probably lead to a staff exodus that Moses would be jealous of. 

The real cost of technology

Do I care?  Not really as I’ll be saving all my loose change for an all adventure holiday in a far flung (non-automated) corner of the planet.

PANIC STATIONS

It’s the moment that every Ground Farce Team dreads, that realisation you’ve only got a few hours left to finish an entire room makeover before the owners return and burst into tears at the ghastly mess you’ve made of their previously lovely room.

This morning blurred into a mass piss and panic following a text from daughter that announced her imminent touchdown at Gatwick airport.   The phrase ‘I’m coming home to bed as I haven’t slept in 24 hours’ caused my heart to flip a triple somersault that would have easily scored a 10 at the Winter Olympics as I gazed upon her new divan and mattress still boxed up in the middle of our kitchen.  Oh dear, we haven’t a hope in hell.

Its panic stations as we rush around like lemmings hurtling towards a DIY cliff edge giving everything a lick, spit and polish on the way.

New ceiling light fitted into position – tick.

Ceiling Light - Trivia from B&Q

Bed assembled, made and headboard screwed into the back – tick.

Small double divan with 4 drawers

Fits perfectly into an already tight space

Mirror frantically polished and hung – tick.

Deco style mirror from The Range.  Deco lights from Ebay

Tortoise re-homed – tick.

Shelby's newly painted home

Clutter re-instated on tops of wardrobe and bookcase – tick.

How is it all going to fit?

There's a lot to be said for minimalism

A million pairs of shoes and handbags stashed in the divan storage drawers – tick.

How many pairs does a girl need?

Fireplace painted with metallic paint – no tick. 

Cast iron fireplace needing a good lick of paint

What?  No tick, no way!   Yes way.  You’ll never get two coats of paint on and dried in the time it takes to travel from Gatwick to Bournemouth. 

Before

After

It's almost like a different room

Fabulous retro style posters from Cool-o-rama

Not a bad effort for a Saturday morning, eh.  Just waiting for the owner’s return with a box of Kleenex to hand.

GIVING WORK THE FINGER

Work is bad for your health but then you don’t need me to tell you this, right? 

First it was carpel tunnel syndrome that consigned me to the top of the occupational health scrapheap.  This extremely painful condition is the by-product of years of office work namely typing or keyboarding.  Back then, surgery was the only remedy since science had failed to develop human clones or robots to take our place at work.

Carpel Tunnel syndrome - a common condition in office workers

Fifteen years later and brainwashed like all work-force drones into not breaking the economic commandment ‘Thou Shalt Not Give Up Employment’, I’m suffering from repetitive strain injury in both arms.  Yes, I’m broken.  Beyond repair.  Surgery (if at all available on the NHS these days) is not even an option.

According to my doctor who repeatedly tells me to give up typing but doesn’t so much as prescribe a painkiller to help me get over my aches and pains, quitting work is the only way forward.  Retire?  At 55 years of age?  But even the Queen’s still at it.  Not that she probably needs to work as I’m sure she’s got enough salted away to keep her in cardies and Hob Nobs for the rest of her days but I guess when you’re the Head of State there’s no skiving off.

I wish I could be at home watching Jeremy Kyle

Now to add to my woes, I’ve a gammy finger.  An infection of the finger-tip and soft pad which has left me at a disadvantage for picking my nose or scratching itchy parts but is not serious enough (yet) for me to retire early on the grounds of ill health. 

Finger infections are very painful

What to do?  Chop off the offending digit or start up a bogus Ponzi scheme?  This at least might keep me in a luxurious life-style until I’m old enough to give up work or get caught.  Contrary to medical advice received, there aren’t many jobs around where use of your hands is not required unless I get employed on a sex chat line.

Maybe a new career direction?

So it’s a case of keep calm and carry on painting (and typing) until such time as I can chop both arms off and have them replaced with new bionic ones.  

Bad fingers are not an excuse to stop painting

MY CARDY IS UNRAVELLING

Ah those naughty chimps in the Town Hall basement have been at it again! 

Bournemouth Road Improvements Team

They’ve been using their computer modelling (Super Mario Karts) to come up with their latest highway ‘improvement’ for Winton’s Cardigan Road by sticking in a cycle lane that forces two wheeled traffic into oncoming cars up a one way street.

You’ve got to hand it to Bournemouth Council, this is a masterful and legitimate way of ridding the town of nuisance cyclists namely by getting drivers to run them over.  No, seriously who in their right mind would put a cycle lane going the wrong way on one of Winton’s busiest junctions?

Motorists approaching the Cardigan Road junction already have their attention divided by two things - zombie pedestrians wandering across the road whilst plugged into their iphones/ipods completely unaware of turning traffic and the pelican crossing in constant use outside Lidl.  Now a third hazard presents itself, cyclists potentially in your blind spot as you turn right into Cardigan Road.  Yes you heard correct - cyclists in a place where least expected.  Get your dash cam footage ready to send to Car Crash TV folks as this junction’s going to be a hoot!

Clearly as chimps don’t drive they have little idea of how this arrangement is just not going to work.  Their poor command of English means they can’t comprehend that ‘one way’ means one direction only and that includes all road users, two wheels or four.  One way streets are specifically designed to facilitate the flow of traffic particularly in narrow roads contrary to what the Government thinks.

It would have been good if the chimps had carried out a cost benefit analysis to see whether the return on the investment would be worth the extra hassle to motorists, the increased congestion on the High Street plus the extra danger to cyclists but I guess their maths is not up to scratch and they probably don’t know one end of a spreadsheet from another.  Funnily, the initials for cost benefit analysis (CBA) are also street slang for ‘can’t be arsed’ which I dare say is why the chimps didn’t bother as they may have been confused. 

It is only a matter of time before the Cardigan unravels and someone gets seriously hurt.  Lord save us from the meddling Highway Chimps – just leave the town’s roads alone!!