It’s my party and I’ll spew if I want to

Well, that was a hectic week.  Last weekend, I found myself in Birmingham, accompanying Mrs C to her work conference.  1050 people, 1000 women, 5 straight men, and 45 gays at what can only be described as a cross between a hen party and a menopausal rave.  Never have so many bingo wings collected in one place.  The level of devotion some of these people have to candles or “wax” in company speak is astounding, hordes of them arriving in their groups, dressed in identical t-shirts with names on the back, so much so that hotel reception on Saturday morning resembled Faliraki airport on a summer Saturday.  They were blowing whistles, shaking tambourines, dancing on chairs and generally over reacting to every pronouncement with a fervour only matched by a populous marched into a square at gun point to worship at the feet of their Great Leader.  I have seen the axis of evil, and it burns your wick.


All of this merriment meant that I missed a big few days for the mighty RHC.  The club got its hands on some silverware for the first time since the mid 80’s, winning the Masterton Trophy.  A prestigious Twenty20 competition, played for in Edinburgh since 1964 (yes, that’s right England, you didn’t invent Twenty20!!!).  There were league wins to be had as well, lifting the Ones into the playoff place, and the Threes, leaving us right on the promotion mix.  Rainouts this weekend mean that Falkland have won SNCL Div 2, and it looks as though the playoff place will be decided in the final game, when the Ones go to Dumfries in a winner take all clash.  It’s heading that way for us Threes players too.  Currently we sit third, just a couple of percentage points behind Edinburgh, who we host on the final day of the season.  Unless Clackmannan collapses we’re playing for second place and promotion.  Always assuming it stops raining long enough to allow some play!


Spent last week on a training course for work.  Three days of cramming with a three-hour exam at the finish.  I have a feeling I’ve failed, which is bad because I hate failing, but ultimately meaningless, as it won’t change my job status either way.  In all honesty, it smacks of creating a load of jargon and terminology in an attempt to take a fairly straightforward commonsense job and turn it into a psuedo-science to give it some sort of credibility/legitimacy when stacked up against IT Development and Programming.  Probably because those oh so precious developers don’t like having the flaws in their software pointed out by untrained chimps like me!


Since when did we get so squeamish about dying soldiers??  I mean, send them to a war zone and expevt casualties, but, daily now we get shock horror from the media and the phone in’s over how 204 of our best and bravest have been killed in Afghanistan since the invasion.  That’s what? Seven years?  Six?  Hmm, thank fuck none of us were around during the years 1914-18 or 1939-45, we’d have rolled over and given up as in the 30seconds it would have taken the Germans to kill 204.  Military personnel exist to be sent to dangerous places and do dangerous things.  Yes, it’s tragic when they are killed doing it, but, they accept the possibility when they join up, get on with the job and make us all proud.  Lets face it, more people have died on the UK’s roads in the same timeframe.  There are many reasons why our military shouldn’t be in Afghanistan, and many why they should be, but, death is no reason for either.


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Filed under Current Events, Sport, Whinging

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