Crimson Fog

An uneventful weekend, partly down to the amount of work I have to do.

Friday I spent the day in Huddersfield checking out the University campus and the library. As you would expect, it is very modern looking. It felt really weird actually using a library to do study rather than sit behind a desk and change passwords for students. I could get used to it. However, even though I was able to track down 3 of the books (and I found a further 4) that would aid me in my current task, I had to return to Barnsley for a brief while as there were a few books there that I could use. So I did something I haven’t done in a long long while. I borrowed books! From the Library! Wow! I feel so…..”Studenty”

Friday it was also revealed that Mrs Gnomepants would be joining Huddersfield Uni too (Huddersfield Uni is the awarding body for University Centre Barnsley). She is doing some free course in something I can’t even imagine to comprehend. She started today.

Saturday was just as weird as Sunday. A wife free weekend (she was out partying in Birmingham) involving hours of study. I don’t know what it is lately but I’ve been experiencing time loss. Yesterday I noted that it was in fact 11:50am (when I thought it was actually about 2pm) but the next time I checked the same clock it was getting on for 4pm. Now I’d understand if I was enchanted by work or some task or other but all I did was move some speakers and type up about 100 words for an essay I’m doing. Yet there we go….nearly 4 hours had passed. It felt like minutes.

Tomorrow, as with every Tuesday, I have a full day in Uni. Before that though I have to have my annual flu jab which always makes me feel queezy. So no doubt come tomorrow afternoon I’ll be hot and headachey and wanting to go home.

Vintage Vehicles Thing – Ackworth May 2007

Probably the most disappointing thing about the whole thing was that we didn’t just say “No thanks” and carry on driving. In the small print of all the posters in the local shop window and the signs on the roads there was little mention of the £4 adult entry fee. So imagine my surprise on driving through the “Free Parking” gate only to be greeted by a man in combat fatigues grinning like someone about to fleece £8 off unsuspecting tourists.

Bloke – Eeh tha’ll be eight pa’and
Mrs Gnomepants – £8! We dont have enough! Sorry, can we just get out at the bottom? The sign up there said free parking we were just passing through.
Bloke – Oh well…er…well how much have you got spying the £5 note I am brandishing
stegzy – Erm £5…..
Bloke – That’ll do…

I suppose it was a lot less painful than walking through Fitzwilliam wiggling a £5 note in the air and saying “Mug me!”.

Anyway, what i thought would be an interesting collection of steam engines, memorabilia and old tractors turned out to be little more than a showcase of “vintage” cars (There was a Ford Capri there and a Mark 2 Ford Fiesta, they’re no more vintage than my piss). Still it was nice to see some old familiar vehicles in very well kept condition.

Old Capri from a distance

Some of the vehicles were peculiar

others straight out of the 1950’s

Trucks with trucks

Straight out of time

Some in red

Other glorious sites included several marquees of overall suited gentlemen selling what can only be described as the contents of granddad’s shed. Rusty, old motor related things. Like Haynes manuals for Renault 5s, rusty suspension springs, bell pushers from old Atlantean Buses, pipes and things, tat, crap, Junk. No. Really….The wife’s magpie genes nearly caused us to be the proud owner of a couple of new doorbells and a door knocker until the impracticalities of having a bell push from a bus fitted to the back door (yes, we receive our guests at the BACK DOOR, want to make something of it?) and the absurdity in having house fly shaped brass ash tray as a door knocker were realised and had to be placated by a pair of gardening kneel pads for a £1.

Of course this guy was the one of the few that happened to be selling anything remotely useful. Burgers make good wheel chucks apparently.

There were other highlights. Such as when it rained and the view over to Hemsworth, South Kirkby and Brierley Gap and a couple of steam driven thingies.

This is a steam driven musical pipe thingie.

This is what it sounds like in the wind.

There was also a steam driven clang maker. A thing that goes clang which is powered by steam. It went something like this:-

Next to the clangy thing was another steam driven thing. This didn’t go clang. I’m sure going clang might not seem important to some people. But it is. If your machine don’t clang it ain’t worth showing.

To top the whole day off, this steam powered thing feebly spooged water out of a pipe every 30 seconds. I’m sure it had a function once. What ever that function was I have no idea. What I do know is, however, paying £5 to see all that crap instead of the £8 that I should have paid was still a down right con. Bloody farmers.

The exhibition was called the Scammel Exhibition. Scam-me-l. I should have guessed from the name.

Ian St James

Went for a meal at the Navigation in Calder Grove last night. If ever Gordon Ramsey needed to visit a place its that place. Because having some sweary ex-footballer chef on the premises might actually improve it.

To be fair, we had been there before and had a lovely meal. We had a lovely carvery and delicious puddings. However last night was shockingly bad. Our food was late. Two dishes were unpleasantly salty. The steak on my Surf and Turf was dry and over cooked (I always ask for my steak to be done medium, last night it came to me like a piece of shoe leather) the surf bit (6 pieces of gyppo scampi) didn’t come with tartar sauce. My desert of Lemon Brulee was more like lemon ice cream in a flat dish with some burnt blobs of sugar. And, considering the last time we went it was full to the brim, the place was empty last night. Probably an indicator that a place is bad.

So 2/10 from me for that.

The beer they sell is piss too. Think I’ll go to Pizza Hut next time someone suggests we go to the Navigation in Calder Grove, Wakefield.

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