Hmmm Oops!

So, for a change, this is not an "Oops, I did something stupid" but an Oops that we have witnessed.

Quite a big oops in fact - to the point it made it to the national news - which, to be fair, probably just wanted a change of pace whinging and whining about politicians...

Today, I had the grand plan of taking the kids up to Langdon Hills. I considered going this morning, but Molly was being collected by her Dad, so we waited till she had been collected. Dom is at his Dads, so that just left Jaysen & Tam. By about half one, we toddled off...

Halfway to the forest, the bus went through a big patch of smoke. "Hmmm, big fire somewhere..." I said to the kids in passing, and thought no more of it. A few minutes later, we saw the source - up on the hill in the actual "Langdon Hills"

I wasn't sure if it was a proper fire or someone burning wood or something similar, but the closer we got, the bigger the plume of smoke. Definitely not good. The bus slowed, we looked out the front, and saw the nice police lady closing the road...

Doh.

With a mile or so still to go, we jumped off and decided to walk. We could only get so far until we saw it was the Triangle Shops on fire.

And I mean on fire. Flames in the air, thick black smoke blowing everywhere, fire engines, police cars - the only saving grace was the fact there were no ambulances... No Ambulances = No Injuries.

As we got closer, the police waved us away - the smoke was nasty, and there was a LOT of firemen running around. Engines from Basildon were present, as well as Grays and Rayleigh - six in all, plus a ladder with a water jet attached too. Police all over the place, dog units, blockades, the whole shebang.

We weren't allowed to walk up the road to where we wanted to go, so had to find our way through the housing estate. We kinda sorta meandered and eventually found our way through to the top of the estate. Looking back, it was pretty chaotic. The smoke had flames leaping in it, fire engines were moving all around trying to reposition themselves...

The picture really doesn't do it justice, but you get the idea.

And so we plodded on - we wanted a walk around the forest and have a trudge around, but the flames were on our mind the whole time... After getting to the top of the hill at The Crown, we had another look back - we were further away but higher up, but none the less...

The smoke was thick and heavy and stayed really low - I've since seen the Fire Brigade issue warnings to the residents nearby to keep their doors and windows closed due to the nature of the smoke.

From that point on, we were in the forest, so could see nothing... After an hour or so, we could hear several dull thumps that sounded like something going bang. Here and there, we could see through the gaps in the forest, and see the smoke billowing for a goodly distance.

After plodding through muddy forest paths, chilling on the swings, and having a good time out in the fresh air, we decided it was time to head home. However, it occurred to us that thanks to the road closure, there would be no buses up there. Which meant walking back down the hills, back past the fire, and all the way back into Laindon.

Doh.

However, this wouldn't be a story if it were that easy. No no...

We went down the hills and back to where we needed to go. Yep, the road was still closed. AND the footpaths around them. The only other option was to go miles out of our way. Literally, miles.

So we tried a side road, and a side road and - oops, we came out behind the fire.

The shops were gone... Some had burned right through, most were unidentifiable as their original purpose, and firemen had hoses running everywhere - including the crane-hose-ladder thing.

Despite our wrong turn, we tried to head around and past to get towards Laindon... But we could go no further. So we had to back up again, and try going around, but the estate is like a mazey-warren, and unlike most men, I asked someone going by if they knew an alternative route.

"You'll have to go through the nature reserve"

Great... While I have no issue with forests in the day or night, I am knackered, exhausted and in agony. The kids are knackered too - we're all out of shape thanks to a lazy few weeks, but we were stuck on the wrong side of a massive accident.

So, without any real option (aside from walk miles, or wait for the road blocks to be lifted) we head back up the hills and into the woods...

Another three quarters of an hour of plodding and trudging through soggy woods, we managed to through to Great Berry (another housing estate), and we had to stop for me to catch my breath and push past the pain... Laindon might as well have been on the other side of the world as I was exhausted.

Thankfully, my brain pointed out we were on the other side of the railway lines - and that was my old stomping ground! Pushing on again, we made it to the bridge and crossed the road on the other side - just in time for our bus to appear!

Hurrah and Huzzah! After struggling to walk, I was able to collapse and sit.

Once home, I had a look online to see what happened, and it sounds like pretty scary stuff - some sort of electrical fault in a Chinese takeaway, and Whoosh! Timber Frame stores didn't stand a chance...

So aside from that, it was a lovely day. You can read the proper news HERE (Local News) and HERE (National News!)


Footnote: My phone battery died after taking that last photo, so no GPS. Yes, I suck. If anyone wants to get a proper GPS machine for my birthday, start saving!

Don't Mess With Our Street

There are not many on this planet that I would consider to be the very dregs of society, but none come closer to the top of the list more than Drunk Drivers.

If you're going to have a few drinks, then decide to drive home, you deserve more than the law can throw at you. And by "more" I mean longer, harder sentences, and more severe punishments. If you cause injury to others or worse - then you should have the book thrown at you. Literally.

But I digress.

Last night, I was a poorly boy, and just after 7pm, I went to bed.

At 9pm, I was woken by a sickening crunch - the sound of metal-on-metal, followed by an engine revving wildly, followed by another crunch, and a third, final crash. I jumped out of bed and flew to the window and looking outside, the road and pavement outside the house was showered in glass and bits of "stuff" of various shapes and sizes. Kellie ran outside in her dressing gown, phone in hand. Looking side to side, down the road - some eight houses away - was a smashed up car, belonging to an elderly neighbour. Looking the opposite way, the culprit had managed to embed his car into the front of a parked transit van.

While throwing on my clothes to go downstairs, I heard several shouting voices:

"He's trying to run for it!"
"F$cking grab him!"
"Get the c**t!"

Followed by the sound of the wind being knocked from someones lungs.

By the time I arrived downstairs and outside, the first police car had arrived on the scene.

Everywhere outside was showered in glass, plastic, twisted metal, bits of plastic, pieces of rubber. The neighbours had come out en mass to see what was happening. Kellie was talking to a couple of neighbours, one of which was the old man that owned the first trashed vehicle. Bless him he was all shaky and upset, but worse, he only got the car in November.

Looking at it now, it looked like it was written-off. It had been parked in the road. Now, with it's back to us, the left-side of the car was crashed and scraped against a lamppost and street sign. The front right of the car was twisted and bent, and the back-right tyre was at a ninety-degree angle to the rest of the car.

Ouch.

The offending car was in all sorts of a state, the side I could see was scraped and buckled, the wheel was twisted, there was smoke or steam coming out from the engine, and the drivers door was open. The car was empty.

The front of the car was in as much as a state as the front of the van it had hit - clearly at speed. Twisted metal, broken glass, shrapnel littered the area. Something leaked from the two vehicles too.

The whole street was lit by the strobe lights of the second and third police cars to arrive, and the paramedic car that arrived shortly afterwards. As we watched, the driver was hoisted out from under a small group of lads a dozen or so feet away by a couple of burly policemen and "pressed" against a police car.

The stupid bastard could hardly stand. While the police searched him, two other officers held him up. Every time they relaxed their grip on him, he started to fall down. Paralytic, would be the best description. Blind-Drunk also fits.

As soon as the cuffs were slapped on him, he started. Shouting and screaming, help me, help me... Crying about how hurt he was... He was chucked into the back of the police car, and the paramedic checked him over. Considering how fast he must have been going to shift a car from road to the pavement (through a sign post) and to carry on and smash into a van, the paramedic left him in the care of the police...

After talking to Kellie and the neighbours, a clearer picture of what happened emerged. The drunk was going fast along Long Riding even after 70 yards, but had little control over the car. From the correct side of the road, he lost control and veered onto the wrong side, smashing into the old neighbours car, which was thrown off the road, crushed against the lamppost and smashed a signpost half-over.

From there, he decided the road was for losers, and travelled - at speed - along the footpath by the street, past our house, then back onto the road, where he veered across both lanes, then over-corrected back across onto the wrong lane, and finally, ended up smashing headlong into the van. From there, he tried to run, where the community spirit of Long Riding stood firm, and instead of letting the fucker escape, he was wrestled down to the ground.


Kellie was up and about in the living room when she heard the first smash - the neighbours car being hit - and rushed to the window, where she was greeted by the flash of a car shoot past our window fifteen feet away.

Seeing it veer then crash, she grabbed the phone, dialled 999, and shot out the front. Bless her, in a flash of adrenaline and panic, she wasn't quite firing on all cylinders. From what she tells me, the conversation went as follows:

999: Emergency, which service please?
Kellie: Erm... Um... Er... (She is mentally ticking off the different services) Police please.
999: Police, what's your emergency please?
Kellie: There's been a car crash!
999: OK, whereabouts are the cars please?
(Now, what the nice man on the end of the phone meant was, whereabouts has the accident happened, so we can send the men with flashing blue lights)
Kellie: It's smashed into a van!
999: And which road is this?
Kellie: Long Riding... OOH! The driver is running away!
999: Can you see what else is happening?
Kellie: He's running - oh, wait, no - they got him.

After that, it was addresses, contact details and general questions, but she was quite shaken up bless her. After we came in, she had to have a cup of tea and sat to chill out for a while.

We're just thankful that there was no one else around when it happened. Had someone been parked outside our house and sat in their car, they would have been hurt. Worse, had it been Thursday evening, Jaysen would have been on the path outside home at the same time he was speeding along it.

What-Ifs, I know, but scary stuff. Fingers crossed the police throw the book at him, and he ends up in jail. Kudos to the police, the emergency operator and the paramedics for getting here really quickly. The three trashed vehicles were gone later that evening, and the only evidence that anything had happened was some debris scattered around, and a "School Ahead" sign at a jaunty 70-degree angle - which was fixed the following morning.

The moral? Don't drink and drive. Ever. Additionally, if you DO, and try to flee the scene of the accident, don't do it on Long Riding - you can't outrun an entire street that is pissed at you.

Please Leave - NOW

I have made an observation, and it is nothing new. However: TV is making stupid people even STUPIDER.

I will make this very clear now, the stuff on the TV is NOT REAL. Even the news is chopped into bite-sized manageable bits so you can digest it. If you see something on the television, please think about what you are seeing and engage at least ONE PART of that thing buried deep inside your skull. Maybe - oh, I don't know - investigate what you are watching for yourself. The Internet - it's NOT just for porn.

You may be wondering, dear reader, something along the lines of "What has rattled his chain NOW?" and I don't blame you. However, today, I was confronted with monumental stupidity on a scale of which takes a lot.

We also discovered that I am, in fact, a complete arsehole.

As you well know, we live in the town of Basildon, slap bang in the county of Essex. Here in the south-east of England, life bumbles along as it does pretty much everywhere else in the country. For whatever reasons, the rest of the country has gotten the idea - that started in the late 80s/early 90s - that us Essex folk are all common-as-muck, alcoholics, and, more importantly, thick as arseholes.

Yes, we have common-as-muck sorts, we have alcoholics on the street, and we do in fact have thick-as-arseholes people. But find me a county that doesn't.

I don't watch TV - there is so much crap on there, I just don't bother - but even without watching, I know for a FACT there are two programs on that show the country what Essex is "really" like.  I am talking about, of course, The Only Way Is Essex, and the other one, Educating Essex.

I admit, I have only ever seen snippets of the former, and nothing of the latter. However, the first is apparently a good example of Essex life.

Fake tan, thick as shit, "cool words" that are only now being used because of the program, fashion sense - all the rest of it. It's supposed to be reality TV as it happens, but is so obviously scripted and as fake as their tits it's unreal.

And yet, the country loves it. It's won AWARDS for goodness sake.

The other program I can't even be bothered to research. Looking at it's main page, it's got bleach-haired, short-skirted, fake-tan girls smeared all over it.

Yeah, good cross-section there.

And no, out of sheer principle, I am not linking them. Google them if you live under a rock/in another country. Don't blame me for any brain-cell implosion from viewing video clips.

It's all well and good, people enjoy the TV they watch - fair enough. But please realise they are made for TV, and are about as accurate as me writing a report on the banking crisis off the top of my head. If Essex were actually like this, then I am going to turn on the gas and take a deep breath as I light a match.

But these shows and this arsing stereotype of Essex being like this is NOT the reason for my rant.  No folks, something worse has pushed me over the edge.

Today, as every day, the buses to and from school have been knackered. Properly, full on, running at a time other than that under the guise of "Time Table". Again, instead of one every ten minutes, it's been nothing for thirty minutes, then three or four. Brilliant. This in itself has rattled my chain, but isn't worthy of a blog post yet.

In an effort to get the buses back on track, they decided, in their wisdom, to kick everyone off of three of them, and send THOSE buses off ahead of the route to try and catch up with their time table. With four buses of people, the remaining bus was full, so me and a half-dozen others - a couple of schoolies, a grannie, a couple of mums, and a weird-looking bloke with big glasses - are standing around waiting for another bus, placing bets on A) when the next bus will arrive, and B) how many will turn up.

So there we are stood, chatting shit as people at bus stops tend to do, when this group of four people turned up, armed with a map. Tourists. Pegged them straight off. They had the bewildered look of people without a clue, and were aiming for us.

"'scuse us -" their accent was northern - very northern, but not northern enough to be Scots. "Can you tell us where the towie people are?"

I blinked. It took a second, to realise "towie" was "T.O.W.I.E" which is short for The Only Way Is Essex.

Mother of God.

I know from my dear fiancée that that program is filmed in another part of Essex, closer to London. I also know from my dear fiancée that the club they frequent/film in is called The Sugar Hut. I know this, because a few months back, she went there. I also know this, as a local footballer was beaten into paralysis a few weeks back outside the very same club.

Like I say, classy.

So, I digress, back to Northern Lass and her posse of three.

The schoolies at the bus stop giggled and shook their heads. The mothers stared open-mouthed, their minds clearly screaming internally as mine was. Granny was confused. Crazy man watched a pigeon.

"You realise you're in the wrong part of Essex, right. And you realise you're looking for TV characters, don't you..." I didn't word it as a question.

"Oh aye -" OK, I know I am trying to talk anti-stereotypes here, but she DID say 'Oh Aye' in a proper northern way "- we seen them on the TV and wanted to see that sort of life for ourselves. We've come to Essex for a week to experience it..."

I could feel the last vestiges of Faith in Humanity crumbling into dust within me. Here are a group of people that have come to Essex from the north of England - probably 200 miles or more - to see and experience something they've seen on the telly.

The mums looked at me with wide eyes, one shaking her head. Yep, she had that crumbling feeling too. The schoolies piped up "That program is crap, man" and laughed. Northern Lass, however, was not deterred. In fact, I think she was convinced we were covering something up, like these were OUR people, that we only let out for the TV cameras, and we hid them when not in use.

"We've been here since yesterday, and haven't seen anything about them. We know there's the club, but don't know how to get there from here, but where are the people like that around here so we can meet them?"

So, 24 hours in Essex, and they couldn't work out how Public Transport/Road Signs worked, and couldn't understand where we keep the Orange-Skinned, Collagen/Sillicone-Filled, floppy haired twats.

I try again. "You DO realise that's only a TV program, right? It's not *real* but a TV program." She blinked and looked at her friends. They looked as bewildered as she did. "Yes, but where are they?" The mums are now talking in low voices trying to stifle laughter. Gran is watching with a confused look on her face. The man is still watching his pigeon. One of the kids is on their blackberry, texting furiously. I can see it now. "OMG 4 ppl lkin 4 TOWIE cast in Bas. Proper bellends LOL"

"They're not real." I tell her. I might as well have stabbed her with the crazy blokes pigeon. She looked like I had crapped in her coffee and handed it to her.

"They are!" she exclaims, and follows through with the classic....

"We've seen them on the telly"

I honestly don't know how to respond. I don't know what to tell her. I consider sending her as far north as I can until she realises she near her house. I try a different tactic. "OK, if I came to your town and asked you were the people from Coronation Street lived, what would you tell me?"

She laughed, and without hesitation, "I'd tell you you were in the wrong place, that their studios are somewhere else!" She and her pals chuckled at my obvious need for special treatment. Then, like a bolt, it seemed that it came to her. I actually watched someone having an epiphany, realising that she was an idiot, and that she was looking for a cast of characters, and that Essex is nothing like that...

"Wait, you're saying they're not around HERE but somewhere else?" Oooh so close, I wanted to /facepalm myself. The kids were cracking up openly. "Alright look, are you driving or using public transport." She said they had driven down. Result. So, I took her map of Essex, showed her where she WAS, and after a few moments, pointed to where she needed to go with her posse, and how to get there via the nice big road heading in that direction.

"Head there - it's only a half hour down the A13 -" (I think) "- and around there start asking. That's your best bet, it's much closer to where you want to be and they will probably be better placed to help you. Probably be worth checking the pubs in the evenings too in case you get no joy during the day."

"Thanks lad -" she said as they virtually RAN to where they had left their car "- hopefully we'll be on the show soon!"

Within seconds, they were gone. I was left standing, wondering what the hell just happened, half wondering if someone as bat-shit crazy would end up on the show, and if my directions may be sending me straight to Hell on a flaming Harley.

"Do you know where the Sugar Hut is?" one of the mums asked. Sadly, I couldn't remember where Kellie & Kerry spent the evening, but I probably wouldn't have sent them there anyway.

"Not a clue, I couldn't remember and don't watch it anyway." I replied.

I knew it was coming. I knew someone would HAVE to ask. It was the the other mum.

"So where did you give them directions to?" she asked with that furrowed-wrinkled-brow expression.

"Dagenham." I replied.

To use the vernacular of the youth, the kids and the mums LOL'd. They LOL'd hard. The granny just watched the world go by, and the man carried on watching the pigeon.

Local Life

It can be said that the local life here in Basildon can leave a little to be desired for some people.  The local "Entertainment Complex" affectionatly known as Bas-Vegas (see that cunning play on words there...) isn't for everyone.  There are clubs, bars, a few resturants, a cinema, bowling alley...

So if you're a quiet home-body, it's not that appealing.  So what do you do?  Well, you could browse the internet, but then, not everyone has the internet.  You could watch TV if you are REALLY stuck for something to do.

Or, like a local person here, you could put an advert into a window.  A local post office window.  And to be fair, don't beat around the bush.  Now, personally (not that I would) I would have put such an advert into the local "dating" paper classifieds.

Of course, me being me, I read this advert - in the window of the local post office, frequented by single mums, asshats like me, and the Old Biddy Brigade - and I had to laugh.  And chuckle.  And cringe at the rammifications.

Now, I was going to go through this letter one line at a time, but... Well, it doesn't need it really, does it...  It can be summed up with the following parts:

• Up to 80yrs
• Adult Fun

I'll let your minds run rampant at that...

Crack Security Force

Today I spent my time mostly sitting with Kellie.  Yes, I'm a sap.  Gemma turned up after school with her wee ones, and the two girls spent their time gassing while Kellie had cuddles with Zoe - sorry, Zoé, which became feeding Zoé, burping Zoé and more cuddles with Zoé.

Jaysen, in the meantime, was running around with Amy, sorting out toys and having a laugh with his wee ickle cousin.

Gemma decided to drive Kellie home to save her getting the bus (Awww) which probably doesn't bode well for me.  Females being Females, and all that...

When they left, I decided to take Jaysen into town and get him a McDonalds - it's not often we have take away food, and while I had a strawberry milkshake, he had food.  And it's there that I get to the point of this post...

See, we were sitting in a rather sparsely-populated food court.  Various resturants and fast-food joints and cafés and suchlike.  However, with it being 5pm, most people were going home and NOT sitting in the food court. 

While we were sitting and eating, I noticed that the table diagonally across from us had a friend, in the form of a bulging backpack.  The table was clean - so either it had been cleaned and the bag ignored, or it had been put at the table after cleaning.

Regardless, there was an unattended bag.

Now, you probably know where my mind is at this point.  I really wasn't expecting it to go blammo, but the whole "you never know" factor was there.  In this day and age, with hightened security levels and threats from all and sundry, the risk was there.

Being a Good Citizen, I get up and alert the girls that look after the tables.  "Excuse me, sorry, but I thought I'd let you know there's a bag with no owner sitting at that table."  The woman looked at me and huffed.

Yes, she huffed. 

"Oh IS there?" she asked me.  Now, the backpack wasn't big, but it was sticking up from the chair and quite visible.  I turned and pointed.  She huffed again.  "Oh OK then" and she wandered off.  No thanks, no acknowledgement, no bravery award.

I sit back down with Jaysen and watch the old girl toddle over and pick up the pack almost gingerly.  With one meaty hand, she wandered over to the other staff who were watching and performed a careful check.

She shook it.

*shake-shake-shake-jiggle-jiggle*

There was no firey ball of death, no cloud of death-flavoured gas.  Thankfully.

So, from the height of four feet, she dropped it to the ground, and with one meaty "I'm On My Feet All Day" foot, kicked it under the cleaning station.

Again, no Blammo, No Hisssss-gag-choke.

A few minutes later, a Proper Security Guard arrives.  He looked very very bored, and leaned over the cleaning station to chat up the younger girl working there.  My Lady pointed out the backpack, so he skirfed it out with his Size 12 Security Shoe, picked it up and shook it.

No Blammo.  No Hissssss-die.

So, with all the precautions taken, his Keen Security Training moved to the next level.  He opened it.  The first thing I noticed were wires.  Not to be put off, he turned the back upside down and shook out all the stuff inside into the sink.  I think one of the items that crashed into the metal bowl was a multimeter or something similar.  Wires, some tools..

As me and Jaysen made our escape, he was casually stuffing it all back into the pack.  I didn't look back.  I'd make an awful witness...

Now, it's not just me, is it?  I mean, heaven forbid it HAD been someone that was sick of the infidels - the British, the Shopping Center, McDonalds, Men, Women, whatever - my last thought would have been "What is that silly cow do- *BLAMMO*"  The headlines would have reported the terrorist attack on Eastgate, and some poor sap would be scooping my intestines from the Happy Meals.  It wouldn't have read "Security Team: What A Bunch Of Knobs" or anything else.

Sitting around that table was myself with Jaysen, a mum with six kids, a mum and dad with two kids, a mum with three kids, plus various staff for the various places, and whoever happened to be in the shops above and below.

All because of Miss *shake-shake-shake-jiggle-jiggle*

Hooligans!

I know people should "respect their elders" and all that shit, but for once, just once wouldn't it be nice for the elders to respect the young?

It sounds crazy I know, and a lot of oldies are fine and dandy. There are, however, elements that give the rest a bad name. And yes, this sounds like something an old person would say in regards to the young.

Earlier today, just before we left to do the school run, another friend called and asked if we could grab her three monkeys. I have a Tam-beast early this week too, so me and Ruth poodled into school and grabbed her two girls, my one boy, and Alyce's three kids.

So, picture the scene... Ruth is pushing Tam in the buggy. The three boys - all aged 9 - are running around. The three girls - 9, 7 and 6 - are running around. I am following along playing with the phone as I always do. Yes, I am a geek, get over it. I pop into the chemist to pay a bill, and come out to find HER.

Ruth is looking flushed, talking to this short, evil-eyed old crone. There may have been a nose wart. I only catch the tail end of her conversation, which went along the lines of "Well they don't sound like they are having fun, bunch of hooligans!"

I look over, and as usual, all the kids, bar Tamsyn, are running around playing tag. Granted, there are whooping and laughing loudly, but they were playing tag. This old girl looks to me, looks to Ruth, and Ruth gives me the "I'm going to poke her in the yellow eyes" expression.

So we beat a hasty retreat before we put her walking stick somewhere it shouldn't go, even with lubrication. I'm then told this old girl - who was no where near the kids, so not even at risk of being bowled over - was ranting and pissing at Ruth for the state of the kids, how they were causing trouble and being hooligans.

I SO wish I was out there when she started. I would have joined in and made as much noise.

Of course, it probably looked like me and Ruth were the dodgy family from hell, with our seven kids all raising hell. If I had the money, I'd have paid my little tykes to make more noise ;)

Dirty Chav Scum

There are few things in this town that I disdain more than your average Run-of-the-Mill Chav Scumbag. For the Uninformed/Americans (oooh low blow!) a Chav is, well, read this. And this. And this.

So, now you are educated. There are plenty of Anti-Chav sites out there if you want to know more, or if you are based in the UK, then there is always ChavTowns for more information. The Basildon write up is very interesting as, it has to be said, we do have a very large population.

Now, I might bandy around the term to my friends and people I am on a wind up with, but only as a joke. The fact is, they are icky people and I hate them, especially the Basildon Variety.

And my reasoning for this post? Well, I just had a knock at the door at half seven this evening, and there is Mr Policeman. Not a toy policeman, a real, bonafide policeman.

Complete with Stab Vest. I didn't blame him, not in this area.

Turns out the people opposite - you know the ones, in the Blood Red House of Death. Well, turns out his car was damaged and broken into this afternoon. At 3pm this afternoon, in broad daylight. The worst part of it is, everyone probably knows it was their next door neighbour and his mates that come around, but who is going to say that? On their doorstop. To the police.

In the last year, he's had paint thrown over his car, his garage door graffiti'd, rubbish dumped on and around his house, and gets abuse hurled at him fairly often. All from the same sources.

And that seems to be how it is of late. You act shitty and threaten everyone, and everyone just closes their doors and curtains and ignores the world outside. All because of the asshats in their burbury (or however you spell it) strolling around like they own the place.

I feel quite bad because I sit on an upstairs window, looking out to the BRHoD when I am at my computer. And I didn't actually see anything - I think I was actually downstairs with Tam clearing up the kitchen before the Boy came home from school. Had the DanCam been on it would have seen it all.

We all live together, next to, on top of, opposite everyone in our area, but none of us ever see anything, and even if we do, we daren't say anything. I told the policeman the guy living in the BRHoD gets a lot of shit from certain elements, but he didn't really want to know. Just wanted to know if I saw anything.

He was really unhappy when Sally (white) said Hi and brushed against his trousers (black).

At least he had his stab vest on.

Busy Bee

In the true styles of a certain lasagne-eating cat, yesterday was a constant crapfest. I had to face the town, so the less said about that the better for all. We didn't get back in till gone half two in the afternoon, which gave me 15 minutes to put shopping away, grab something to eat (a doughnut), and then run out again into the Arctic Wilds of Basildonia to grab the boy from school.

The house is a tip, we've got Cel stealing out laundry so we don't run out of the necessities - I mean, do you WANT me walking around naked, plus we're trying to deal with Xmas and everything else. Joy.

In other news, Jo's foot is now officially on the mend and she can walk about without much hassle. On the other hand, while she was at the erotica show on Sunday, there was a woman looking for volunteers to demonstrate a new tongue-piercing technique. Guess who now also has a hole in their tongue.

Some people just can't think of their own trend to follow.

Where her tongue is a little swollen she sounds like she has a bit of a lisp, but on the bright side, it's making her form her words properly so she doesn't sound like a common old trout for once. She sounds like a real Essex Girl most days, but for the time being, she is actually pronouncing words correctly.

And last night, in celebration of Lane getting a new job, the girls went out to Bas Vegas and partied. Which left me with the moody kids. Again. *huff*

Once again, I had issues coming up with a Musical Monday song, but I hope to fix that shortly with a bit of creative date editing and posting something. He says, hopefully.

Aside from all that, I've been dodging a migraine for the last few days - it keeps looming behind my eye, and I pop enough pills to push it back, but I can feel it building a while later. I think I might let the bastard just come out, get it over with...

Dear Mr Motorcyclist

I'm sorry you had such a bad start to your morning. I was getting ready to cross the road when I saw you waiting to pull out, so thankfully, me and Jaysen were waiting for you. When you pulled out and your bike ran away with you, my first thoughts were for your safety. The crunch as your bike somersaulted and rolled over you made me wince in the pain I knew you must have felt.

I actually ran for the first time in a while today, depositing my son on the front door step as I ran to help you, pulling out my phone to call an ambulance for you. I was so relieved to see you moving, even though you were trapped under the bike. It took me and a neighbour to move the bike, and I'm really glad you listened to us to stay still.

I'm glad the lady at Ambulance Dispatch was so helpful, and I am really sorry to her that I completely forgot my mobile number. But, Mr Motorcyclist, we were all impressed when the ambulance got to you so quickly, and that those two bus drivers blocked the idiot drivers trying to run over you. The impatient idiots of the world piss me off, but you probably weren't as worried by them as me and the neighbour were.

Your shoulder looked horrible, but I'm glad it was only dislocated. Your leg sounded horrible, but the fact you stood on it was good.

I hope you're on the mend and feeling better.

All the best,
One of the guys helping you this morning.

---

Dear Ignorant Arrogant French Woman,
I'm sorry you felt the man laying in the road in agony was an inconvenience. The bus drivers had blocked the road for a reason, to stop prats like you running over afore-mentioned man in the road. I'm sorry you couldn't follow every other driver and take two minutes out your day to drive around the accident scene.

I'm also sorry you felt the need to give me and my neighbour such a dirty look. Your kids go to the same school as Jaysen, and HE wasn't late in, and we walk. Speaking of which, does a 12 minute walk scare you that much? And to think the school employs you to teach the kids french.

That is, the parents that think your stupid costs are acceptable.

I hope, Ignorant Arrogant French Woman, that it is never you laying in the road while traffic drives past your head because you inconvenienced someone.

Up Yours,
The guy who you had to drive around so you didn't run someone over.

---

Dear Bus Drivers,
Thank you. Thank you for using your buses to stop as many of the idiot drivers (Including Ignorant Arrogant French Woman) that were trying to finish off Mr Motorcyclist. I know your managers drive you hard to meet targets and get results, but this was a case of another person in need. You did the right thing, and I think your passengers would agree.

Long Riding gets busy in the mornings, with people going to work, doing school runs and what have you - for you to stop the traffic from both directions and move it on was excellent and probably made the ambulance get to Mr Motorcyclist quicker than if there was a traffic jam in the way.

Thanks guys,
The guy who could only smile and nod while he was talking to the emergency services.

Booze-Bruise

Last night, for the first time in a fair while, we managed to offload the kids; Jaysen went to stay with Jo's mum, Tamsyn went to stay with a neighbour (which was nerve-wracking in and of itself). Our friend Amber hit 31 this week, and as all fun-loving adults, we decided to hit our local alternative club, The Pink Toothbrush. Yes, I am fully aware of what that is a euphanism for. If you don't know, you can always ask.

Anyway, we hit the wildlife at around 9pm, taking the piss out of one another in the cab there, and getting into the club with the rest of the crowd by half nine when we started to drink.

And Drink.

And Drink.

12.30am, we realised we had a half-hour before Mr Cab Driver would be outside, and decided we needed fried food. So we went to the best burger van for miles around, ate stacks of meat, onions, bun, sauces and pure cholesterol. We were all rather drunk, so it didn't count.

We piled back into the cab, got to the drop off point, and spent half an hour dancing and laughing in the street. It's amazing what happens when someone has an mp3 of the Austin Powers theme on their phone. So we bumbled home, got in, had some more laughs, then hit the sack around 3am. 8am I wake up with a bladder that would put a swimming pool to shame and stay half-awake till 10.30am when we crawled out of bed.

All morning I was complaining of my leg hurting, and come 4pm, I had a peek and it looks like I was hit by a car. I have an eight-inch bruise that no one can place. I didn't fall, get hit, get in a fight (I'm a cheery/laughy drunk), despite almost knocking out one of the crowd, and breaking the shoulder of another. So here I am limping around with a BoozeBruise. Very strange.

We did well last night on the bar though. Beer, Vodka, Beer, some sort of fruit-vodka mix, we blagged a few free shots for being so damn sexy, something bubblegum flavoured, something strawberry cheesecake flavoured. Jagemeister also came out to play, as did pernot, absinthe and whatever else we tried.

But I am blessed with not worrying about hangovers!

Anyway, aside from getting mysterious injuries, obviously, I am back :) During the week, we received a report that our "issues should be resolved" and I've managed to keep an internet connection for about an hour so far. A new record ;) Has to be said, Telewest-which-is-now-Virgin Media is officially shite. I have no idea what has changed since they got taken over, but they get two fat-thumbs down.

Hopefully last night being out late and up "early ish" has jiggered my body clock back into some form of semblance. I've not slept properly since last weekend, being awake for 20-22 hours mostly, and fighting sleep during the day so I might sleep at night. Booze & Painkillers is the next step ;)

Tomorrow is Fathers Day, so after calling my dad to say Hi, we're off to see Jo's dad who's home-alone this weekend. He's also fiddled with his webpage, so no doubt I'm going to have to redesign from the ground up. He "cleaned some stuff off" which invariably means "I deleted some important files". Yay.

And so, I bid you goodnight!

Midnight on Long Riding

If there is one thing you can count on, it's some kind of arguement on the street outside on a Friday night. No school, pubs & clubs with their long opening hours, binge drinkers... Well, last night wasn't much different, just a bit worse if that is possible.

Skip back a bit. Jaysen got in from school - still no repair man, and time ticked down and down. So much for "Before 4pm" I thought as he pulled up at 4.45pm. He walked in, looked at the box, announced "the box is shot", went out, got a new box, reinstalled it, left. Six minutes.

When we got installed, we decided to opt for a refurbished box which gave us a £25 discount on our first bill. We had the box, we got the discount, box blew up - we now have a shiny new box. Result.

After Jo's running around for every other bugger yesterday, she was tired, Jaysen was tired, Tam was tired and as usual, I was tired. So once the boy was in bed, we went to bed. At 9pm. On a Friday. BUT we took a DVD with us - early night, Tomb Raider, all good. Me, well, I nodded off halfway into the film, and was woken up just before midnight - it was warm again yesterday so the bedroom windows were open, so the sounds of the street were piped up into our room.

It started off with shouting between two groups - just taking the piss out of one another, but with really really colourful language. Things started getting heated and they were really screaming at one another. By half twelve, it sounded like there were pitched battles raging outside, screaming obscenities at one another, crashing and bashing of things being thrown, the sounds of fisticuffs.

Thankfully, the sound of sirens broke them up, and when the first FIVE police cars pulled up outside our house, they were gone. Not sure why there were two fire engines out there - but the noise of it made it sound like a riot, so maybe they were going to hose the shits down.

Outside this morning, there are sticks, broken glass, bits of signposts, and I notice the chap next door has moved his car well away from near his house.

And all this - this is WITH an increased police presence. I was stopped by a policeman last week, just to tell me that they are informing local residents (like me) that they are increasing the police numbers around this area, due to the concerns of violence between different "youth groups". I said "Don't you mean gangs?" and he kinda side stepped it with a "We don't like to call them gangs". Right. So gangs it is.

Ah well, tonight is Saturday, so it'll be the drunken girls screaming at their boyfriends tonight.

The Outside World

For the enquiring minds...

The camera is pointing South, out onto Long Riding, facing the houses opposite us. There are two infant/junior schools and one senior school nearby, so from 8.15am-8.45am and 3pm-3.30pm there will be lots of kids walking outside. We're also on the main bus route in Basildon, the #8, which drives laps around the area. They should run every ten minutes in both directions, hence it looking like there are so many. We don't have proper school buses out here either, so you won't see them.

Emergency vehicles - the police are usually blue-and-white, while ambulances are green-and-yellow (there is one outside as I write this), and fire engines - well, you can't miss those.

Long Riding is a fairly long residential area with various shops and a pub dotted along this half of it - you can't drive the entire length as the middle is Buses and Emergency Vehicles only. The road has estates on either side of it, some council, some private, making it a fairly busy road. With this map, the red dot is pretty much our house.

You can view this at Google Maps here.

As for time zones and what-not, we're currently in British Summer Time (BST) for another 3-4 weeks, until the clocks go back. Generally, we're an hour behind most of europe, 10 hours behind Australia and 12 hours behind New Zealand. Americas, we're 5 hours ahead of the East Coast, and 8 hours ahead of the West Coast. No idea about you Central timezoners. I'm sure you can figure it out.

And yes, that IS the Blood-Red-House-Of-Hatred out there...

Other than that, welcome to my street!

Well...

Well, so far so good - the only reports of the camera not working seem to be after I turned it off, so that's all good. *touches wood* MSN is on and has had several people jump on since last night. Nothing has broken (yet) and everything seems to be running smoothly (so far), so I'll chalk this down as a win for me.

Yay Dan!

In other news. Well, it appears that I am the only person on this green earth to have never seen Braveheart. Yeah yeah, shoot me. Of course, while I enjoy epic-scale/historical movies, the last few days have seen me in a frame of mind to not really watch one. Jo has been telling me how great a film it is, so we put it on last night.

It went on forever and ever. At 10pm, Jo told me we were only half-way through, so we turned it off and went to bed. I just couldn't face it, and not even sure I can face the other half today. I suppose I should make myself scarce ;)

On the bright side, it's Friday. Today is only the second day this week I've gotten up to take Jaysen to school, Jo has been doing it mostly. I still feel icky, but I'm bored and I am sure the rest of the house is sick of hearing me complain and moan, so I'll just have to suck it up and get on with it. No doubt tomorrow - Saturday - I will be up at the crack of dawn doing something daft.

I tried the Everquest 2 trial the other day after all. It sucked for me. Wasn't a patch on World of Warcraft.

Anyways - I need to whip the boy into his uniform and get my proverbial skates on - enjoy the scenery of "Out the Window". I'm sure you will be mesmerised for hours to come. FYI - there is a 20 second delay between here, and the screen you see there. Most odd watching a car go past out the corner of my eye, only to see it go past on the screen a short time later!

Webcam!

The more observant might notice a bit of metallic mesh going to-and-fro off to the side over the tagboard there. Yay me and my smartiepantness. So, I have a live-streaming webcam installed, however, those that remember this blog back in the day will remember I had something similar before running on here, and for a lot of people, it caused masses of slowdown and errors, and ended up getting pulled.

Not that I am fussy when it comes to that sort of thing ;)

So anyway, the cam will be pointed at whatever. It has a built-in mic so I might even treat you to music or my verbal rantings one day, but for now, it stays muted. Can't have the strangers around the world listening to my innane dribble - it's enough that you read it!

For a larger image, you can visit the cam direct at Camstreams. Seems to be a pretty nifty little site for this kinda thing, so if you want a webcam on your blog, there you go :)

I will add, once I go to bed it'll be turned off - I'm sure the people around the world couldn't give a fig about seeing this room when it's pitch black! Once I am "awake" and downstairs, then I will point it somewhere.

Edit: Forgot to add - PLEASE let me know if it takes forever to load, if you get whacky error messages, or something else goes screwy. If it's causing problems for people, then I'll just provide a link to the cam instead.

Webcam: Keep Or Ditch?

Keep The Bugger!
Ditch The Crap!

We Got Another One!

Another Basildonian, that is ;) She's here through Laney, so that's now two locals that have arrived (technically three counting Jo). Not that I am going to say anything about the stereotypical Essex Girl. No sir, not me. Nor mention anything along the lines of the jokes relating to them...

Anyways, say hullo to Lara!

Also, interesting fact. Both Laney and Lara blogged about the massive storm we had here last night, and I mentioned it in a previous post. Notice how they (The Girls) talk about how pretty it was, how the lightning looked and suchlike, while I, on the other hand, bitched that it blew up Jo's computer.

Boys and Girls, Apples and Oranges...

A Local Howdy

I just had a new visitor leave a comment, a real, true-to-life local person!
Granted, she now knows where we live, but let's face it, with the maps, the addresses, the photos of Blood-Red-Houses-Of-Anger, it's not rocket science!

So hello to Laney :)

Ooh Ooh Ooh!

So I was sitting writing my previous post when I noticed a police car go past. Nothing unusual on this street really. Then a second and a third went past, followed by a forth. Now THAT is something you don't see every day.

They were cruising slowly, and parked up down the road, six policemen (and women!) got out in their body armour, went into the flats opposite, then....

Came out empty handed after 10 minutes.

Pah.

While I can only guess, I am pretty sure they were going up to the flat of the noisy neighbour. Apparently there was a raid on his house in Early August, complete with police helicopter overhead.

Probably hasn't paid his parking tickets ;)