New Home

For one reason or another I've decided to return to my old blogging title 'The Burnt Maze'.

Last year I killed my blog. I actually deleted a whole year of posts and comments in one mental moment. I can't really remember why but anyway I've decided to reopen that box only this time over at Wordpress.

All the posts and all of your great comments have been imported so it's not a case of starting from scratch...thank God!

Here I am: The Burnt Maze.

I hope you enjoy my new home. Fingers crossed I will too!

The Tuesday Tune #28

Dominoes

I live inside a domino. Standing at the window and letting myself fall forward for a second I imagine my building starting a cascade towards the horizon. Will I pass through each building as the run goes on or will I end up peering into the foreign land that is another's apartment?

These buildings seem so out of place in the world. What other reason could there have been for placing them here in such close proximity to each other if dominoes hadn't been in mind?

In the neighbouring domino there is a man. There are probably many men but I share something with this one man. His television is never off. It flashes its passive messages past him and out into the world. A soundless light show through another television window of its own. I don't have a television so I watch his. At 4am or 5am he is still there, watching, sitting there doused in passivity.

I don't sleep well and spend more time than I would wish pacing the wooden floor of my apartment as my girlfriend is rejuvenated in the forests and streams of the land of nod. I look out across the city and, if I'm really unfortunate, see the changes the dawn brings to the carefully set dominoes.

What does he do, this man? Why is his television never at rest? Does he look out across the dominoes to mine and wonder why there is a man at the window? "Why doesn't he sleep?" asks the man. "Why doesn't he sleep?" I ask. Maybe tonight.

Oh, C'mon!

The Tuesday Tune #27

This is The Tuesday Tune #27 but it should really be entitled The Best Tuesday Tune Yet.

These Kiwi guys are fan-bloody-tastic so I've put a few choice videos up. I urge you to watch them.

Mixing The Rough With The Smooth

When you’re a child you have so much to do. So many important things to do like running around the garden, climbing a tree, racing through the streets or countryside on your bike. Everything is an enthusiasm and that energy propels you from your bed every morning like a tightly coiled spring of fun.

When you’re an adult you have so much to put off. So many important things to do like running around doing errands, climbing the career ladder, racing through things so you can prepare your work for the next day. Everything grates at the edges of your freetime and that erosion of energy keeps you strapped down to your bed every morning like something someone from Opus Dei would put upon their leg.

So is it possible to mix the two states, to combine that youthful, playful energy with the realities of everyday life? I’d love to know, as whilst sunny skies helped today I feel the extreme need for something more, something extra that can inflate my freetime bubble and wash away the gnawing, nagging feeling that accompanies work.

Reasons Not To Live In Britain - Part One

Traffic Wardens

Gordon Brown (aka Stalin, Mr. Bean, The Clunking Fist, a Joke) recently stated that traffic wardens would be called Civil Enforcement Officers. Pass the sick bag, please.

Anyway, here is a list of the ten most ridiculous parking tickets, according to The Times Online.

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1. Trucking ridiculous

It was a normal day for truck driver Michael Collins, who was on his way to collect a skip in London’s Belsize Park. But then, without warning, his truck lurched as the road beneath him collapsed. Unbeknown to Michael, a burst water main had caused the road to give way, creating a deep hole where the front wheels of his 17-tonne truck became stuck.

While he was waiting for his lorry to be rescued, a passing parking attendant appeared. To the astonishment of nearby residents and despite Michael’s protests, she stood on tiptoe and whacked a parking ticket on the trucks windscreen, uttering the immortal words, “You can appeal”. (See picture above).

2. Bad news comes in trees

If a tree fell on your car and you escaped death by mere inches, you might think that you would get some sympathy from your local council. Sadly, no such compassion was forthcoming when one family suffered just such a fate under the parking Taliban of Wychavon District Council

Nicky Clegg from Stoulton, near Pershore, was driving along the Bromwich Road with her 82-year-old mother and her 11-year-old son when without warning a tree crashed on her car. Miraculously they escaped death but the car ended up with a crushed bonnet, smashed windscreen and broken wing mirrors.

Police dragged the wrecked car to the side of the road and told Nicky that it was fine to leave it there and she could pick it up the following day. But when Nicky came back the next day, she was astonished to find a parking ticket on the window.

3. Feeling run down?

Think that being badly injured is an excuse to park illegally? Think again. When Nadhim Zahawi of South London was thrown from his scooter and left lying in the road with a broken leg, a heartless warden from Lambeth Council slapped a £100 ticket on his bike.

4. Horse play

You leave your horse in the street and what do you expect to find when you get back? A small pile of manure perhaps, but not a parking ticket. Amazingly, however, this is exactly what happened to Robert McFarland, a retired blacksmith from Yorkshire when he left his trusty steed, Charlie Boy, for a few brief moments. On the ticket, the over-zealous warden had written the vehicle description as “brown horse”.

5. Daylight robbery

It started off just like any other day for Fred Holt when he went to his local bank. But the ordinary day turned extraordinary when two masked men burst into the bank brandishing an axe and a machete. In the terrifying raid, the robbers held a young cashier hostage with an axe to her throat. Customers were forced to lie on the floor as staff were made to hand over cash.

If being a victim of this horrifying event wasn’t bad enough, 77 year old Mr Holt had parked his car nearby, and by the time he had given a statement to police officers, his car had been there for 20 minutes longer than allowed.

Mr. Holt was not worried because the police officers who interviewed him said that traffic wardens had been told about the raid and asked not to issue tickets. But when Mr Holt got back to his car he was astounded to find a £30 parking ticket pinned to his windscreen – the reason: overstaying his allowed time in the street.

6. Bloody ridiculous

“Do Something Amazing Today” runs the slogan of the National Blood Service. In Sutton, a traffic warden did just that, though not along the lines of “Save a life. Give Blood” that the advert intended.

For four years, a mobile National Blood Service truck has visited Sutton, parking at the same spot outside a group of offices, so volunteers can give blood. But seeing the good citizens of the town turn up and exchange a pint of the red stuff in return for a cup of tea and a biscuit was too much of a temptation for one parking attendant. Whilst those inside were giving blood, the parking attendant gave in his own unique way – in the form of a parking ticket.

Sutton council eventually waived the fine, saying the parking attendant had made a simple error of judgment. Or to put it more aptly, a rush of blood to the head.

7. Bus(ted)

Picture the situation. You’re a bus driver. You’re driving your bus. You see a queue of people waiting for you at a bus stop. You pull over to pick them up. So far, so good. But wait, not everyone wants to buy a ticket. This chap in the queue wants to give you one instead…

This was the extraordinary scene that greeted Manchester bus driver Chris O’Mahony, when he stopped his number 77 bus to let people on. He and his passengers looked on in absolute disbelief as the Manchester City Council parking attendant joined the queue to prepare the parking ticket, deposited the £40 notice and then walked away. The bus driver’s crime? Parking in a restricted area.

The attendant said he'd been told to issue tickets to buses that park. Manchester City Council bosses cancelled the ticket and ordered the warden to be retrained. Hopefully, as something other than a warden.

8. Heart attack

Whilst David Holmes was driving along he felt chest pains. So he immediately drove himself to hospital. When he arrived he was forced to park on the road and was treated for a heart attack. A kind nurse left a note on the windscreen saying it was an emergency and that David's daughter would pick the car up later. Despite the note, a pitiless parking attendant slapped a parking ticket on David’s car.

Despite an appeal to the local council, the £40 fine was not cancelled.

9. Welcome to Warwickshire

Warwick is a beautiful part of England but it had no appeal for one man who received a parking ticket from the local Council.

Krister Nylander was dismayed to receive a parking ticket in the post for parking in Warwick. But he knew the parking ticket was wrong because he lives in Sweden and had not visited England since he was 16. The offending vehicle was his 20-ton snowmobile which had barely ever left his barn, let alone Sweden.

How did it get the ticket? We’ve absolutely no Ikea.

10. Driving you crazy

Driving instructors are used to the trials and tribulations of teaching people to drive. Three point turns, as we all know, can be very tricky to learn. So spare a thought for the driving instructor who got a CCTV parking ticket when his pupil stalled whilst attempting a three-point turn and could not restart the car. The offence? Parking more than 50 centimetres from the kerb.


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It's scary that such a large number of little Hitlers are drawn to the public sector. With the arrival of New Labour we've seen a creeping state that seeks to nanny us, record us and break us. I'm just thankful that it seems the death of the government is upon us. I look forward to their socialist, big government, authoritarian ways crumbling before their eyes. It'll make  great theatre.

Update: Polish Drivers

I was chatting to a couple of Polish friends yesterday about their penchant for tailgating. No offence was taken and, in fact, they were quite blasé about the practice.

They explained it to me like this:

If you leave a space between you and the car in front then another driver will overtake you and fill it. Better, therefore, to prevent this by closing the gap.

Well, that's ok then.

I wonder how a psychiatrist would describe this kind of behaviour.

WARNING! Stereotypes Blocking Road Ahead

If God had wanted us to fly he would have given us wings, as the old Luddite-like phrase goes. I’ve always thought phrases in this groove were ridiculous and simply highlighted mental weaknesses in the speaker, however this is one I do agree with:

If God had wanted the Poles to act like dickheads he would have given them cars.

Although I am, in the organised sense, God-Lite I do force myself to take some solace in the thought that perhaps God is demonstrating something very important by giving to the Poles what is essentially a big metal machine with the ability through misuse to kill or maim. What his lordiness is demonstrating, I hope, is precisely how this big metal machine of maybe-misery should not be used. He is giving us highly visible and instantly recognisable examples as to the method of use that will result in the highest possible level of absurdity and danger.

The long and the short of it is that Polish people cannot drive. There, I said it. It’s out there in all its generalising gorgeousness.

May I present my first piece of evidence, m’lord.

1. They tailgate.

The Poles who are actually able to pass the driving test (and I understand that it’s not uncommon for people to fail upwards of five times) drive on your bumper. I’m not 100% certain why they do this but it could be for one, all, or none of the following reasons:

• This is how they are taught to drive by the not-happy-with-their-lot driving instructors who until recently were open to bribery (until, that was, cameras were installed in the cars, I am told).

• They are drunk and need to drive that close to the car in front as to drive at what normal people would consider a safe distance would result in confusion and possible mental paralysis leading them to drive off the road.
  

• They are all enrolled on training programmes with the Polish Institute of Space Search (PISS) and are a bit over keen about practising their docking skills. Note: They really are very good.
  

• They are environmentally friendly and are doing it to conserve energy by utilising the slipstream of the car in front.
  

• They are unaware of the rear view mirror in their own cars and so rely on the one in the car in front. This confuses them as they see a crazed driver in the car behind so they drive closer still.
  

• They are drawn like moths to the lights.
  

2. They rarely thank you if you do them a favour on the road.

Polish people do not look other drivers in the eye. Moreover, they don’t seem to see other cars at all. In four days of driving around Poland on my holidays only one driver thanked me for stopping to allow them through…and he looked foreign.

Research in Holland, Germany and (of course) Sweden indicates that if you take away road markings and all the associated road furniture that the number of accidents decreases – especially at junctions. This is due, in part, to drivers looking deep into the eyes of other drivers and assessing their intentions. It makes drivers rely on non-verbal forms of communication thereby reducing the breakdowns in communication that can lead to accidents. This wouldn’t work in Poland. There’s no way this could work in Poland.

3. They do respect speed limits / They don’t respect speed limits.

On certain occasions the Poles do respect the speed limit.

There are so many signs in Poland telling drivers of the speed limit. Driving along a straight piece of road the speed could be, for example, 80kph however as you approach a bend in the road the signs tell you to reduce your speed to 50kph. This confused me a lot, as surely the driver should be able to use his or her intelligence and manage the speed of the car so as to avoid missing the corner entirely and driving into a tree or pretzel seller. Not so, my girlfriend and very capable co-driver told me. If the speed limit remained at the higher level then the Polish drivers would obey it and hurtle around the corner or perhaps through the corner. Madness.

On all other occasions the Poles don’t seem to respect the speed limit.

Take residential areas as an example. When I drive through a residential area or built up stretch of road I am absolutely petrified of running over a small child. I think killing a child with your car is probably one of those situations that would lead to you to having to top yourself and so I am ultra careful.

Note: Rather bizarrely the introduction of speed cameras in residential areas actually leads to drivers watching the speedometer rather than the road thereby increasing the possibility of an accident.

I tend to drive at or under the speed limits in such areas due to this very real feeling that I mustn’t do anything that could endanger the life of a pedestrian. This is perhaps why I was so amazed to be overtaken in pretty much every town or village by a Polish driver.

From what I understand, Polish people have a very real aversion to authority. Perhaps this stems from them being dictated to by Moscow for so many years. Perhaps not. Anyway, this desire to buck against the rule of law seems even to override any sense of moral responsibility. Either that or they’ve all left the gas on at home.

Conclusion

At this point you’d probably expect me to ramble on about how much better British drivers are and how this kind of ridiculousness is uncommon in Britland, however I’m not going to do that. Instead I’m going to compare the Polish drivers to those who fill the roads of the Czech Republic just over the border.

During the four days driving around the mountains, villages, towns and cities of Poland we also popped over the border a couple of times. I can tell you, hand on heart, that during my brief time there the Czech drivers were considerate, sensible and safe. No tailgating, no thankless passes and no overtaking in built up areas.

I don’t yet understand why the contrast is so apparent so if anyone can educate me then I would be forever grateful.

Disclaimer: Of course, not all Poles behave in the ways I have detailed but I guarantee that if you are Polish and are reading this that you will have experienced some or all of the above. If not, then I’d love to hear how I got it so wrong because, to be honest, I don’t think I have ;)




Next up: Broadly speaking there are two types of Poles who go hiking. I’m going to have a stab at describing both of them to you. Bear with me.

The Tuesday Tune #26

I'll be posting a little something later about my long weekend in the mountains and perhaps about the absurdity of the Poles (well, some of them, anyway).

Hurrah And Huzzah

As usual I'm doing everything at the last minute. My girlfriend packed and dumped her stuff at mine hours ago but her friend convinced her to go for a drink when I finished work. One beer is never enough. The first one re-energizes you apres travail whilst at least one more is needed for enjoyment. It's disrespectful to the beer otherwise. 

Anyway, we're heading off at the crack of dawn to her parents' place so we can steal one of their cars for the northward journey to the Kłodzko valley area and the mountains for a few days. You would not believe how in need I am of some nature. The city, whilst all the better for the sun, is beginning to drain my reserves and I need some time gazing at something that isn't made from concrete or glass.

So. Enjoy whatever you are doing this week and weekend. I hope you too have an opportunity to do something you like.  Beer, optional.

Crunchie Bar Vs The Death Ray

I don't usually talk about the dreams I have but I thought I would with this one as I burst out laughing the moment I woke up.

In my dream the Japanese had developed a green death ray and had been doing all kinds of naughty things with it. I don't think the fact that they were Japanese is significant in any way, it's more that I've been reading Stephen Fry's Making History in which the world (like in 1984) is divided into power blocks.

Anyway, I was in a laboratory and was under attack from a single Japanese man who looked remarkably similar to someone I knew a few years ago. I could see in his eyes that he was intent on destroying me with his green death ray but luckily I had something that would protect me.

Me: Did you really think you could destroy me with that?! The Americans have developed something that will deflect your death ray. I have a Crunchie bar, you fool!

And with that I brandished my Crunchie bar, deflected the death rays he was firing at me, walked up to him and knocked his ray gun to the floor thereby saving the day.

For those of you unfamiliar with sweet, sticky chocolate bars, a Crunchie bar is  a milk-chocolate-covered honeycomb toffee made by Cadbury. Quite why that would save me I have no idea. In real life there are very few situations in which a Crunchie bar could be used in defence. Maybe to buy time whilst seeking to flee from bears, perhaps but that's probably about it.

Needless to say, you can't buy them in Poland. I wish you could. Look at it! It's gorgeous!

I do hope there's no hidden meaning in my dream.

The Tuesday Tune #25

This is classic and cheesy. Fantastic for group karaoke.

Golden Donkeys And Phrasal Verbs

"Come on to" - make sexual advances towards

Last weekend I headed over to one of the best refuelling spots I know - Złoty Osioł (The Golden Donkey), a fantastic vegetarian restaurant and perhaps the only one within 100km. I was ambling along with a Polish friend of mine and despite nursing a bit of a sore head caused by too much partying (if that's possible) the night before he was on great form. 

He'd really enjoyed himself and was keen to tell me all the gory details and so I listened, as he recounted tales of drunken debauchery. It started with the usual chatter about places and faces but became more interesting when he suddenly got visibly animated. He's been single for about a year now since he split up with his girlfriend of five years. It hit him pretty badly, actually. Some people don't do so well on their own and he is one of them.

Anyway, what he'd wanted to say was that whilst he had been on the dance floor a good-looking woman had started chatting to him. Basically, she came on to him whilst he was dancing. 

Only he didn't say that. He omitted one crucial word. I took his comment in isolation (what else could I do) and almost fell over. It took me a full minute to get out of him what had actually happened and, to be honest, I don't think it was my dirty mind in action here, as he seemed so incredibly energetic about the whole experience.

I don't think my day has ever been made by a phrasal verb and although it's close it has probably beaten the pasta moment I had in Italy in October. Some days I love living abroad.