The language of youth and devilish reversing

I am clearly no longer a young man and one of the ways this shows itself is that I do not understand the language of youth. I understand this, it is as natural as the creaking arthritis that is becoming a more constant companion and the desire to hear the words in music. I am not completely oblivious to the altered interpretations of language that the youth use, I don’t dive for a bucket when I hear them say that something is sick. For me the youthful adaption of the language is quite unpleasant, the desire to mimic cultural tones of those less educated than oneself demonstrates a sad lack of identity and confidence. But the youth, by their very nature, will always be younger and always trying to differentiate themselves.

There are some aspects of the development of language that are more disturbing as they creep into general use. I am deeply unhappy, for example, that welfare has become “pay” or “money” in the UK since this softens the reality that the state is sponsoring a person. For some reason I got to thinking if I could educate the world as to one piece of language what would it be. The answer that I have fallen upon is the difference between the words ‘want’ and ‘need’. I think that if we could educate people as to the true definitions of these two words the world would be a happier and more fulfilled place and, more importantly, I wouldn’t get so angry.  I set out to establish some easy examples and came up with:

• You ‘want’ chocolate’ but you ‘need’ oxygen
• You ‘want’ takeaway but you ‘need’ food
• You ‘want’ beer but you ‘need’ water

At this point I started struggling, I could find loads more ‘wants’ but struggled to justify more ‘needs’. A home came to mind but, as many prove nightly, that is not a true need. Human life is a simple mechanism that requires fuel and hydration to survive, if it’s not one of those then you don’t really need it. We have complicated our lives and I fully accept that we need to pay the mortgage or fill the car to get to work but we don’t need to go the pub or visit friends, they are nice things to do but not essential.

In part this fuels the welfare culture, this belief that we need Sky or we need beer or, perhaps most sadly, that our children need toys. The happiest children in the world have little more than the love and attention of their parents but society, especially in the UK, creates artificial aspirations and beliefs. So we have parents who believe that their children’s happiness and welfare is directly related to the volume of “Made in China” labels under the Christmas tree. An aspiration to provide toys for your child is normal and correct but this has been manipulated and mutated such that, for so many, it is impossible to achieve. So we end up with badly educated parents trying to achieve the unachievable, giving up and getting drunk.

The result of this ‘feast or famine’ style of parenting is that little Johnny is fed garbage all year in a vain attempt to pay the loans taken out to pay for last years Christmas. By the time this Christmas comes around little Johnny’s parents will despair that they cannot afford more junk so will slip into self pity. The truth is that with no loans little Johnny could eat better and he would be happier making jam tarts with his mum than watching a drunk dad racing cars on the X-Box that the family ‘needed’. Next time that you find yourself saying that you need something just stop and check if you mean that you want it.

That’s my early morning philosophy done for today, next up the devilish train operators. I find myself on the first London departure from Derby today as I have to head South for a medical, the train departs at 04:37. Now normally this is the 05:00 departure but before Christmas they took to retiming it and running it on a diversion route. Without going into the technicalities of the diversionary paths from Derby station I will just say that the train departs in the normal direction but then stops and continues the journey in the reverse direction. I know this and so I claimed a seat at the ‘rear’ of the train facing in the ‘wrong’ direction.

My traveling companions did not seem to be aware of this twist to the journey and so they boarded the ‘front’ of the train. The train crew clearly knew as well as I do that the position of a commuter’s seat is more important than the arrival time, they ‘need’ to be at the front. So before the train sets off the train crew announce several times that the set has been retimed but will follow the timetable after Derby, no mention of the reversing move. With the doors locked and the train setting off in the ‘right’ direction tickets were checked as normal. Then comes the devilishness, an announcement that the train will shortly “come to a stand for a few minutes whilst the driver changes ends and will then continue with first class leading”. This announcement generates a stampede to join me in the ‘rear’ of the train. The thing that I found so English in this whole scenario was that following the first station stop the tickets were checked again and every one of the ‘end changers’ was greeted with “can I see your ticket please” before their flustered look elicited a “oh did you change ends”. No matter who you are in life you will always have a chance to know more than somebody else!

Do I look old in this?

There are times when we feel older than others, this week is an older one for me apparently. But there seems to be more to this than just how I feel, it shows on the outside to!

Monday was not a good start. An idle conversation with a fellow commuter brought about a question that seemed somewhat premature. I was seriously asked if I could “take early retirement yet”, I’m 40 years of age that’s one hell of a stretch of early. Having explained that I wasn’t actually planning my retirement I was told “you’re right it’s best to work to the end”. That’s a way to start your week off, nothing like knowing you look a good twenty years older than you are!

Arriving at St Pancreas I headed past the ludicrously oversized Fortnum and Mason Christmas tree and made my way upstairs. At the top of the escalator I turned right and my left knee disagreed. I did a fantastic impersonation of a baby elephant, think of the flailing arms as a trunk, before finding a railing. I didn’t actually hit the deck, I rarely do, it’s a point of principle. The great thing with the knee is that it’s random, a quick shake down and I’m off like a slightly sore gazelle. I guess the benefit of looking the wrong side of 60 is that people don’t presume that you’re drunk.

I met a supplier in the afternoon and the handshake was not quite as expected. Think about those joke buzzers and you will get the idea. A decent grasp and pump resulted in my colleague physically leaping away asking “shit is it coming off?” apparently it’s not just me that can notice the extra crunchy affect that is associated with some of the more painful days.

Leaving work the knee continued to offer an occasional point of view on my direction but I won the arguments. I decided Monday was deserving of a few mile round trip to the store, hey gotta show it who’s boss. My steadfast refusal to bow to Ms Nature nearly got the better of me when I felt the knee murmuring dissent. I ploughed on ignoring the murmur and a firmly planted stride resulted in an experience akin to being stabbed inside the knee. Nobody saw the hop and skip that followed, I checked, and a slow fold out supported by a lamp post recovered the situation. With a knee swelling in anger I pushed though and completed the mission.

Despite contrary appearances I am not close to retirement. I also have no intention of surrendering ground to Ms Nature.

Dirty sex, envy and early darts

This morning was one of those when I had ‘normal’ envy. In get this every now and again but I’m blaming this episode on a facebook chat with a friend yesterday (you know who you are). And so this morning when I arose and collected the technical papers for the next couple of days I felt a pang of jealousy for those that live in ‘normality’. I have never lived in such a world despite my aspirations but I think it must be nice.

Allow me to expand a little on the normality of which I speak. As I walked to the train station in the early hours I passed households that were normal. In these houses the occasional light was on as somebody stirred. It was a tad early but later there would be warm embraces and tender kisses to start the day. The guys in these houses would start their day happy in the knowledge of children at school and housework completed. These are the guys that return home to dinner that isn’t microwaved, that help their children with homework and discuss the day.

This world of normality doesn’t involve working long days and continuing at home. This normality is driven by a purpose, by some sketchy plan. There is a partnership behind this normality that faces it’s challenges and remains strong. This is the normal that leaves a warm bed and returns to a home rather than a place. I know that this is a normal of stereotypes and that it’s never all good behind the curtains but it’s still there.

I may still have some ‘life mobility’ issues but in general I am successful in my professional life. I have travelled the world and am lucky to enjoy my career. I’m not sure that I ever realised that the choice between career and life was mutually exclusive. Please don’t misunderstand me I am not bemoaning my lot but that doesn’t mean I can’t get a little envious occasionally does it?

I travelled to town today with the early commuter set and as always they were a revelation. The group of women that sat behind me were debating the drama of washing your hair before work. This debate occurred at 6am, what time did they have to get up to wash their hair? Unless they all had some rampant and rather filthy sex last night there was no need for that! They then went on to demonstrate one of the issues a large percentage of the working class have, complacency.

Having discussed how ‘projects will always go over budget’ they went on to discuss finish times. One woman explained that early on in her role she had asked if she could leave at 16.30 rather than the prescribed 17.00. Brilliantly the reason for this early dart was that she was a woman, go figure? Anyway, having negotiated half an hour she kept chipping away at it and is now on the 15.08 train but her boss ‘doesn’t care.

In case said person should read this post allow me to clear up her misunderstanding. Either your boss does care and you are next on the list for redundancy or he really doesn’t care and you’re both on the list! I fail to see what benefit you can bring to a company if they don’t notice that your working short days. I do look forward to hearing that she has been laid off or, preferably, sacked!

Incompatible human OS

I have written frequently about the mystical forces that seem to guide hordes of commuters around the complex subterranean world of the London metro. I have discussed how even strangers are rapidly absorbed into the flow and somehow guided on their way, albeit not necessarily the right way. I have even had cause to consider that some similar crowd rules govern the passage of people in shopping malls. Today I have seen where this goes wrong, the combination that should not happen. When you combine a shopping mall with a commuter station it can’t work properly.

I can only compare this with a dual-boot operating system, it is not that shoppers can’t be commuters or commuters can’t be shoppers, that would be far too simple. It is as if we have two modes which we could call ‘Win Shop’ and ‘Linux Commute’ not unlike the two OS that people commonly run on their pcs. But when we try to boot from one to the other the success rate is the issue, sure the vast majority slip seamlessly between modes but some fail and revert to the previously loaded operating system. So some of the people in the commuting throng are desperately trying to operate in Win Shop when everybody else has booted into Linux Commute. Now anyone that has played with pc operating systems will know that they are totally incompatible, only one system can operate at a time and there is no resource sharing. This explains the mindless wanderer, the sudden lane changer and the headphone oblivious that stall the commuting mass. It is not their fault, it is not malicious, it is simply that they are still in Win Shop.

I watched today as a random Win Shopper stepped in front of a crowd, from my vantage point I could see the chaos that he created in the smooth flow of commuters. Like putting your finger in flowing water the disruption is immediate and causes waves to ripple out throughout the crowd as it adapts. The problem with Win Shop is it allows random changes of direction and slow walking which is entirely incompatible with Linux commute. The operating system of Win Shop is entirely alien to Linux Commute so it disrupts the neat and invisible handshaking between the commuters much like tunnels disrupt your cell signal.

No theory can work unless you can test it in both directions so, in the interests of science, I observed the shopping mall throng. Sure enough there was clear evidence of people operating in Linux Commute, charging through people, taking the quickest route between A and B. They were as disadvantaged and annoying as Win Shop was downstairs, they just weren’t operating in the right mode. I am not sure what it is that triggers the reboot but, since it only occurs at shopping malls, I guess it must be some visual clue on leaving the metro, or perhaps its GPS or beacon based. The challenge now is to work out how we reboot these individuals when they are operating in the wrong mode, what is the human equivalent of ‘Ctrl,Alt,Del’?

 

Divorce, umbrellas and courtesy

A pair of my travelling companions were discussing that most expensive of ‘ex’ not expert or ex pats but ex wives. Mr A was bemoaning how she had cleaned him out, how he had worked all of his life and worked hard while she had no real education or career. Whilst Mr B listened quietly Mr A heaped praised on some foreign legal systems that returned the wife to the pre marriage position, after all that was fair why should she be able to profit from her selection of a husband? I don’t doubt that Mr B had been listening to this for some time, after all its Monday morning so any divorce couldn’t have been agreed any later than Friday, I don’t doubt this because of his response. There are some responses that we make regardless of how we actually feel about the subject, this was one of them forgive me for paraphrasing.

‘So your 45, been working all your life and married for 7 years right? You reckon she is dumb, she’s living in your house, sleeping in your bed and parking her new fella’s car on your drive, not saying she is right but pal that girl ain’t dumb’

Judging by the sudden interest paid to an email arriving on his BlackBerry I think Mr A may have just had an epiphany. I was sorely tempted to offer him the advice given to me by one of the many lawyers that worked on my divorce, advice she shared with every male client. This god fearing woman who was married herself was resolute ‘you have been married and it didn’t work, only an idiot would do it twice’. I kept it to myself, he seemed to have had enough for one day.

Thanks go out to the railway operators of England today for reminding me that platforms get slippery,unfortunately it was too late I had already discovered this while walking to the station, perhaps they could SMS the reminder in future?

I tried to walk along a path today with a woman using one of those dome style umbrellas that children use, it made me hate umbrellas more than I already did. She picked her way along the pavement which resulted in the umbrella successfully blocking any attempt to pass her, the feet were so random in picking a way through the snow that it was impossible to predict. Frustration and anger got the better of me and I steered the dome to the right to allow me to pass but I hadn’t figured on the howling wind, presuming this was what was guiding her she battled against me. Luckily nobody saw me trying to force this woman down the road by her umbrella, at one stage I considered letting go and allowing her own force to take her to the left so that I could slip round on the right but this seemed too much like assault.

Eventually I steered her on a collision path with a telegraph pole and she seemed to grasp the concept that something other than nature was at work, she turned, grumbled and moaned at me and I barged past. I am normally respectful of people and rarely rude but I must formally declare that when you deploy an umbrella you forfeit any right to courtesy.

Commuter madness or not?

Just passing Ilford on my train today and my mad commuter buddy went for a random walk, or was it random? As he passed me the train rocked a little, not a great deal just the normal rocking of a train but it was the cover he needed. He leapt at me, a crashing blow to my ear as his elbow thundered into my head. I realised that this was no mere stumble, it was an attack using the motion of the train as a cover. Unconvinced that my rebuilt wrists would take the forces involved in a full assault I slipped my hand out from my pocket and powered my elbow into his midriff using it as a lever to throw his mass over me and into the lap of a surprised woman.

He couldn’t mount another attack in public now and as he recovered and apologised I studied him for signs of his alter ego, I was just considering clawing the latex from his face when I realised this was a mere agent Mr(s) Smith would not have been so readily defeated. My thwarted foe walked down another car and was gone. If you think that this was just a case of a commuter stumble then explain why, having walked to the end of the car, he returned? There was no reason for this trip and I suggest that it was a targeted attack, when you read the Anita beware Mr(s) Smith is getting more aggressive in her defence of Dr Evil.

Just to keep me on my toes having read a healthy chunk of the excellent Zoo by James Patterson* there is a huge dog on the train. It might just be me but I think he looking at me strangely.

* Thanks Dave and Jo

Commuter update

This morning I had a delightful stroll along the seafront with the sun reflecting off the sea and the ever stationary windmills, this brought me to the station slightly behind time. My slightly late arrival was no concern because once again the lad whose job it is to sell tickets for 4 hours a day must have had a snivell or splinter and decided it was best to stay in bed.

As I walked down the platform I was struck by a couple at the end, obviously my first concern was the potential for this to be some nefarious distraction from Mr(s) Smith. Having checked for snipers, which I believe are readily identified by red laser dots, I walked closer to investigate.

I discovered that a young man, resplendent in ridiculous over sized baseball cap and super sized headphones, had taken the prime spot. My commuting entertainment was stamping and circling, even clapping his hands like some sort of hunter.

It was something to behold as he circled around his spot and then abruptly stopped at the young man in an attempt to make him move, striding around I could almost hear a nature show commentator “now see how the older lion circles his domain, clapping his hands and coughing to signal his disapproval to the young buck”. The best bit is that the young lad was completely oblivious to this masterful display, it was probably still night time under the peak of his cap.

As the train approached the years of experience were evident when the older man deployed his final technique. He walked maybe 6 metres up the platform and then as ‘his’ door appeared he reached out and touched the door. This method for demonstrating ownership has been used by children for decades, if your touching it then its yours.

The moving train allowed him to step to the next level, never letting go of the door he almost jogged alongside think of a child windmilling his arms and saying ‘if I hit you its not my fault’ and you will get the picture.

Physics is a wonderful thing and in this case it ensured that ‘his’ door would stop where the youngster stopped, the tension was nail biting, what would he do. Spectacularly he walked straight into him, even I didn’t see that coming! He walked straight into the lad and made some apologetic gestures which I think meant ‘so sorry my hand was stuck to the door, bloody trains’. It was like a scene out of Mr Bean, I wish I had thought to video it as it made my Monday.

Remember I do this so you don’t have to.