end of term report

all worked passed.


can do better.

that is all.


Bring it.

new post

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz  there you go.

its done.

handed in the assignment for Writer and Reader today. I have to say I am glad that I have no longer got that milstone round my neck, it has been for me, a royal pain in the ass. My brain just does not function in the way it needs to to do this lesson, I don't look at an image and see the hidden meaning there, not unless prompted anyway. Not to say I don't enjoy the lesson, I do.


If this scrapes a pass I'll be happy, if it fails I'll resit. I'm definatly going to start the next assignments over Christmas so I have plenty of time.


Changing the subject completely, if by chance, and its such a slim chance that you are reading I can't believe I am bothering. The next time a certain group of Chavs decide they want to stalk towards my future wife while she is waiting for me outside the shop with my son, and then has the bottle to come poke his scrawny neck around the corner to see if she's still alone, be warned, you might find me staring right back at you.

People like this, are the exact reason why I left Grimsby, because of the lawlessness that has gone unchecked for too long, they think they own the streets. I grew up on the streets where this encounter occured, now I don't feel secure. I'm not saying that Grimsby is  rotten to the core, there are still some good people left, most of them being on my college course I might add, but it is getting to the point were I have to wonder how this town is still on the map. Theres nothing here anymore, Grimsby is barron and dead, the college is the only thing keeping it going on life support. Companies refuse to invest, and the council won't do anything to encourage them, the police force is next to non existent. I remember reading in the telegraph a couple of years ago, that over the christmas period, the entire on duty police force consisted of 6 patrol cars for the whole of humberside, this is, in my opinion is pathetic, and unfortuantly the current governemnt are not going to help.

As far as the lawless thugs that have overrun the streets are concerened? Well, I don't condone vigilantism, but someone needs to take back the town. I won't lead, I'm not that guy, but gladly for the right reasons...I'll follow. Some might say that it is not the answer, I'd agree, but country wide something needs to be done about the knife crime, random acts of violence and the seething rage that has infected youths of today.

Not all of them I must stress, but a minority of them...and its not just youths (just look at the riots recently) but in my opinion, its about time the fair people of this once great nation stood up for itself, and turned things around.



I'll leave it there for tonight, but here is my final thought.

did you know that fuzzy wuzzy was a woman?

Writer and the Reader

Its been awhile...but I haven't forgotten all of you (thanks Micky:P)

Basically I have been working on my W and the R essay, and although I have only 500 words to go, I would give my right nut, and probably my left, if someone would kindly watch aliens and finish it off for me.

I just read another deconstruction by some random task on the tinternet and I would give my right, and probably left nut to have had the brains to write that one out. boo and indeed hiss.

children in need

One direction...if Cowell had snuffed it he'd have been turning in his grave. Mimming when they where meant to be amazing live.

 rant over.

It its children in need tonight, the annual tradition in my family, even though over the last few years the perfomances of the so called 'musicians' have been getting more and more cringe worthy.

 The point of this post is, not to slag off Children In Need but to ask questions of certain people in the showbiz industry. I love this organisation, it helps thousands of (funnily enough) CHILDREN IN NEED, nationwide, wether they are homless, disabled, or other such difficulties. Every year the BBC put on a show and raise a hell of a lot a money, especially considering the economy at its present state (yes MR. Cameron, and MR. Osbourne, the economy, that thing that everyones raving about in its bullshit state) the fact that year round people are putting hands in pockets and giving some poor blighter a chance in this cruel world is an act of heroism in its self, which brings me on to my next point.

Paul 'Bono' Hewson and that one hit fuck wit Sir Geldoff, keep telling us about how much food we waste, and how much this ,and how much that just evaporates into thin air, and that  if we just gave X amount to the third world we could end world hunger etc etc.

Now I don't profess to be an intelligent person, but I'm pretty sure that as part of the (allegedly) Greatest Rock band in the world, that Bono wouldn't be short of a few quid, nor Geldoff for that matter, now I'm pretty sure if they really wanted to between them they can damn well do something major to help end world poverty full stop.

But have they ever made a multi million pound donation to children in need, or Live Aid? maybe. they sure like to say they have. What about Children In Need? after all charity starts at home, why don't they give a few million since they can spare it and help some poor fucker out for a change, and stop using it as a publicity stunt.

I'm not trying to slag off other celebrities who give to charities, they do good things when they genuinely believe in what they do (I.e Mr Beckham)

This year me and the mrs donated £5 credit from our mobile phones, because it is what we can spare. I'm not saying that everyone should do it, hell put your own affairs in order first by all means. Just spare a thought for anyone less fortunate than yourself.

I am not an advocate for Children in Need, I'm just sick of jumped up D-list celebrities using it as a platform to further their careers. Jedward are a case in point and should be shot on sight.

The government should do more damnit!!


okay now I've vented my spleen all over this, I think I shall go and listen to some mediocre music...for some reason I don't like Mondays.

Love to all
T

p.s I'm not angry at the world just its Dad

Earliest Memories

Good evening.

I have just completed the first draft (or second draft if you count Chris Dows's adjustments) of my earliest memories essay. Its an accout of one day in the summer of 1988 at RAF Binbrook that even to this day still sits in my tiny and warped mind, and is probably a major part in my fascination with aviation, and is the reason behind every airshow that I have ever attended reminded me of BBQ's, the smell of aviation fuel just does it for me! I am very nervous about posting it on here but we keep getting told to "get stuff" out there.

Deep breath...here is my earliest memory (its probably wrong):

Earliest Memory

RAF Binbrook

We have come to RAF Binbrook as a special present for my third birthday. We are standing in front of my favourite plane, the one that Dad had been bringing me up here to see for ages - A Lightning with its blue/grey and green/brown painted sections, what my Dad calls “Camouflage.”

All around Binbrook this warm, slightly cloudy, summer afternoon in 1988 the Lightning’s stand on show, men in blue shirts and grey trousers, with the shiniest shoes I have ever seen, are walking around them, checking and talking to each other, and with the other people that had come to see them. I think that they work here. I don’t really care about the people. I just want to look at the planes. I can smell the petrol that makes the planes fly in the air, a sweet sickly smell that I like, mixing with the smell of the fresh cut grass.

We are now going to one of the big buildings, called hangers, towards the back of the base, it is mostly green with big double doors that have been pulled back to show us what is inside. Just outside it there is a big red fire engine parked, with its crew calling us over, they are telling my Dad something about what is inside the building, and that it isn’t ready yet, so did I want to have a go on the fire engine while we waited. At this I turn around and see the truck properly for the first time, they actually want me to have a go on their truck! Ace!

The crew of the engine, are letting me press just about every button, pull every lever and honk every horn on the truck, they are laughing with me while the lights flash and the sirens blare, and passers-by jump in fright as they are walking towards the hanger.

We are told that the hanger is now ready, and the crew walk with us into the cooling shadow of the cavernous room. Inside there are many planes, some small white ones with red and blue stripes, however hardly anyone is paying attention to them because of the looming form of a grey backed Lightning sat menacingly in the centre of the hanger. A ladder that had once been painted yellow, but now is a dull rusty brown colour because of years of age and use, is resting against the open cockpit, a man wearing a blue shirt and grey trousers, is standing at the bottom of the ladder smiling. Somehow I can tell from the way he is standing he is important, I don’t know how, I just know.

The crew of the fire engine walk me, my Dad and my Mum up to the Lightning, jumping us up to the head of the small crowd that is slowly gathering, but they do not complain, they just smile and laugh as we move forward.

The man introduces himself as Group Captain John Spencer, I guess this means he is some kind of leader and therefore I must pay him special interest. He tells us that this is Lightning, it is very special to him, and it would be his great pleasure to show us the plane inside and out.

We are walking around the jet, stopping behind it, looking into the two deep black holes that are the engines, one on top of the other, they’re scaring me slightly, images of some dark monster living in them springing to mind.

            We come back to the ladder, which now I can see it better has a platform at the top, enough room for people to stand on. John Spencer is talking to my dad about something to do with it. He kneels down in front of me, looking me squarely in the eyes, and asks me the question I’ve been waiting for since laying eyes on his plane.

‘How about we take you up and let you sit in it?’ Coming over all shy I hide behind my Dad’s leg and nod. With our next destination decided, Dad picks me up and carries me up the ladder, which weirdly is much higher up than I thought, but the view is ace. Looking down I can just about see my Mum waving at me.

            John Spencer is helping my Dad into the cockpit, and then helps me climb in too, lifting me up over the edge, letting my dad take me the rest of the way in.  Although very tight in here, I still have plenty to look at, there are switches and dials with numbers on them everywhere, a small screen in the top right hand corner, that is off but is no less cooler for it, the flight stick that I am pushing from left to right, up and down, is cool to the touch and is easily moved, I can fly this if I really want too.

            My Dad and John Spencer are deep in conversation, my dad listening while, John tells him about the aircraft, how it is to fly, and what role he has in the squadron. All this means little to me, as I crane my neck and stand on the edge of the ejector seat, I can just make out the runway. I turn to look at my dad just as the camera my mother is holding onto flashes, I didn’t even realised that she had come up the ladder for the photo.

‘Dad…Dad when are we going up?’ I ask him quietly.

‘What do you mean mate?’

‘We get to fly don’t we? I can see the runway, I want to fly it!’ I am now positively bouncing as Dad gets out of the jet and helps me down the steps, John spencer is still with us and he is telling my parents that in a little while, the base will be running a scramble with four other Lightning’s, and since we had been invited we are allowed to stand in the tower and watch. I don’t know what a scramble is, but I figure that the tower is the brick and glass rook shaped building near the hangers. John leads us to the tower, a few other people have come up as well, but we were first. I’m still upset about not flying but I can see out of the window and across the airfield I can just about see two Lightning’s are making their way onto the end of the runway. The temper tantrum I was about throw, is gone with the roar of the jet engines, as they rumble down the runway, flames coming out the back of them as they pull straight up into the air, then almost instantly another two take off and chase after the first pair.

            I am bouncing with excitement as all four planes fly over the base again, this time waving their wings at the crowd below, before doing one more flyby and finally coming home to land, parachutes waving in the jet wash behind them as they slow down.

            I think, as my Mum and Dad walk me back to the car, the smell of aviation fuel making me hungry, today is the best day ever!

note to self:

11 year old Seat Ibiza is NOT a Ferrari F430 Scuderia.