Face Off

Well, it was talked about a month ago, but it’s now been confirmed that the current edition of “The Face” will be the last.

St. George

Well Hey Ho and a jolly tantivvy, it’s April 23rd, which of course means it’s St. George’s Day. Or, according to today’s Grauniad, it should be St George and Jonny day, with a good roast beef meal, cooked by mum, and followed by a pint in the pub.Some people have been given the day off. Alternatively, you could choose to remember that it’s Shakespeare’s birthday, and join those celebrations instead.

Or of course you could take a leaf out of Richard Desmond’s book, be utterly “patriotic” and abuse the Germans.

Useful?

Here at work I have a colleague. Amazing, I know. However, I have absolutely no idea what he does. He’s supposedly in the web-team, the same as myself and Stinky. He never attends the same meetings, is seemingly incapable of answering even the most elementary questions regarding website and intranet (instead they get passed on to me, written in a doctor-esque scrawl on green card) and doesn’t appear to edit or write any of the web pages.

He’s been in the programming teams, only they got rid of him because he’s (in someone else’s words) “a completely clueless twat” and he’s ended up on the web-team. (Some would say that’s the rightful place for clueless twats, but I wouldn’t be that harsh) All he seems to do is sit at his desk and count the hours/minutes ’til it’s time to go home.

So my question is this : “What the fuck does he DO all day? and Why do the council keep him on?”

Identity

Two items on the BBC news site this morning caught my attention – partly because they seem to be semi-related. First, according to a MORI poll, 80% of people would be happy to carry national ID cards. However, most of them (58% of those questioned) also think there would be problems implementing the card system, (as per usual, file under “No, Really?“) and only 20% would be happy paying the proposed £35 fee for such a card.

The second story is about Jim Lee, a man who doesn’t exist, according to the government. Never registered at his birth, with no NI (National Insurance, for non-UK readers) number, he’s never claimed benefit, and has never been in “the system”. Now he’s in a position where it’s quite possible he’ll be back on the streets because the DWP won’t accept him without proof of identity, either paper-based, or on the recommendation of family (who he hasn’t seen since the age of 14) or friends. (possible, but he’s moved around so much that there aren’t really any regular friends either)

Utterly farcical. And remind me, just how is someone like this supposed to get a National ID card, when he can’t even get an NI number?

Coining It

Did you know that the pound coin is now 21 years old? I didn’t. The Manchester Evening News today has an article about it, including the changing attitudes towards the coin since its introduction, and also a comparison of its buying power now to then. Interesting reading.

Orange

Out of interest, why do people of a certain age insist on dyeing their hair such bizarre colours? They just look ridiculous, trying to cleave to a self-image that clearly is no longer theirs, and probably never was.

I’m not talking about skater “kidz”, but instead those at the other end of the generational timeline. Today has been the day I witnessed an orange rinse talking to a blue rinse. And I really do mean blue. Not “silvery white” but blue. Although I’ve still only seen a green rinse once. Thankfully.

Five Years – Part 3 – Regeneration

I was interested to see in today’s Guardian that Grimethorpe is to get a new housing development. Grimethorpe was one of the Yorkshire mining villages that was virtually crippled by the miner’s strike, and never really recovered from it, particularly once the mine itself was closed down. In fact about the only surviving “industry” has been Grimethorpe Colliery Band.

My grandparents lived in Grimethorpe, and my grandfather was a miner at the pit. Personally, I loathed the place, even before the strike and closures. The last time I was there was five years ago (this seems to be a developing theme this week) for his funeral. At that time, my father said “that’s it. I’ll never come back here again” – he still hated it, even after 30 years away from it. I can’t say I blame him. (Oddly enough, I’ve just done a search for photos of Grimethorpe, and these two are actually taken from the same road my grandparents lived on, and probably within 5 houses of theirs.)

From as far back as I recall, Grimethorpe was a grey, polluted town, and that was after the Clean Air Acts and so on had already cleaned it up. Since the mine closed, it’s an area that has just gone further and further downhill, becoming the perfect definition of a depressed area. I hope that the Park Springs project and these housing developments bring some new life (and new money) into the place, but I know it’s not somewhere I’d choose to return to, let alone live in.