Catmachine

Well this isn't very good is it? Only a few days ago I was going on about how I'd be trying to write at least 500 words a day and then I write nothing for five days. In my defence I would just like to mention that it's not as if I sat down at the computer to blog and then discovered that I had writer's block. It's more that I've been busy. Lame excuse perhaps, but true nonetheless. Last night, a work night, I got home and did nearly four hours of freelance work. That's a whole 'nother half day. Still, enough of that. Despite the lack of action, I did actually have a rough idea of what I was going to write about. It all came about when I was reading an online advert seeking to fill a position. One particular phrase stuck in my mind. No Time Wasters This strikes me as a very odd thing to say. As if someone reading the advertisement is going to say to themselves, " Ah. I was going to apply for this post in order to waste their time and mine, but I see

I'm attempting to use this blogging tool as a way to practice writing. This is in the hope that if I flex my brain's creative node often enough, I'll be able to start (and in one or two rare cases finish ) some of the short stories that are lurking in my head. I have already been blogging approximately 500 words weekly on Myspace (the posts from which I'm going to start sharing here from now on) but I am beginning to suspect that it's not nearly enough. I'm going to aim for approximately 500 words a day on here. Wish me luck. So here I am wittering away about nothing in particular. I doubt that anyone is going to read it. Which is lucky really - reading this kind of thing is liable to be the literary equivalent of watching a very unhealthy flabby person's first visit to the gym in years. Which is something else I should really be doing. If only there was some kind of shortcut to all this - if I could get back the physical body I had fifteen years ago I pro

In theory I can drive as I passed my test; however I have never owned a car. As a result it's around thirteen years since I last found myself behind the wheel of a large automobile. I've probably forgotten how to do it. The thing is there's no space for a car where I live at the moment and the advantages of sticking to public transport or cycling around far outweigh the disadvantages. Not that you'd think that from the way I whinge on and on about it. But the important thing to take on board is that there's nothing wrong with cycling per se or travelling by train per se . The problem is that you have to engage in these activities alongside members of what sometimes seems to be the planet's dominant species, Homo Stultus ("Stupid Man"). Queuing to buy a ticket behind a member of this species can drive you to premature distraction. However, the problems don't cease once you've bought your ticket. Firstly, Homo Stultus always has a problem with

This is one of the new ticket machines on Brighton station. Not bad really. A nice touch screen, which means that there are less moving parts to break - and that the interface can easily be updated by installing new software. It takes credit cards, which means that, what with the new chip-and-pin system, buying a ticket should be quick, easy and painless. Its cousin - not pictured - takes coins and notes as well as cards, so there really is no excuse for not being able to buy your ticket now. Finally, something that will free us forever from Ticket Hall Hell - where belligerent morons use the fact that they're buying a ticket from an unfortunate cashier to make the rest of us wait in a frustrating, interminable purgatory. You know the types. Firstly, the kind of person who doesn't know where they're going, when they're travelling or what a train is until they arrive at the ticket window. They then proceed to use the hapless ticket clerk as a sounding board about what ro