The Duke of Eninburgh or An Excuse to Brag

As part of my sixth-form, I took part in the Duke of Edinburgh's Award. If you don't know what it is, it's basically a program to help young people do things. Or something. I forgot. You do some volunteer work, some exercise, some learning, an expedition, and at the highest level some more volunteering but away from home. And it's run by the Duke of Edinburgh, hence the name.

Well to sum up two years work in a (long) sentence I volunteered at an animal sanctuary, went to the gym, learnt to drive (not that I wouldn't anyway), spent a week in a café at a railway station, and did a really ling walk through the highlands of Scotland. It seems I may have done the award quite fast, since I did it in just under two years and the minimum time was 18 months. So anyway, after having the book sent off and everything being sorted by my mother whilst I was at uni, and getting given a pin, I finally got to go to London and be presented with my certificate 'in the presence of' the Duke of Edinburgh himself (by that they mean he came in and talked to us in groups for a bit and then went off to talk to other groups whilst we actually got presented with the certificates)

If you don't actually know anything about the British aristocracy and want to know what the Duke of Edinburgh is doing in London at this point I'll go through it. The Duke of Edinburgh is Prince Philip aka the Queen's Husband. He isn't king because kings outrank queens but it's her that's the heir of the previous king, so she outranks him. Blame archaic gender inequality, but then again it wasn't so archaic when the present Queen was crowned.

Anyway, so this was the point of this blog - I've met royalty, so long as you take yet to mean 'been in the same room and answered questions asked to a group at levels which the person answering could hear'. But still, I also got to see St. James's palace, which is the official seat of the British royalty (as opposed to Buckingham Palace, where they live). All the official stuff gets done there, but I'll come back to the palace when I cover the rest of the ceremony.

After the Duke had gone on to talk to people from other parts of the country came the actual presentation of certificates, done by a mountaineer who's name I can't remember, but he has climbed the 14 highest mountains in the world, and is one of 12 people - in the world - to have done it. Fun fact: It's easier to rescue you from the moon than from the summit of Everest, because whilst they could get another spacecraft up to the moon a helicopter can only get up 6000 meters, so mountains above that are out of range.

After the presentation and photographs and speech, we had to wait, because the way out was through a room with people who hadn't finished, so the room we were in, where you wait to be introduced to the monarch, and the next one along, the throne room (also in use, but they'd met the Duke, and so finished, first) were opened up so we could look round and 'mingle'.

To make it quick all the rooms are impressive, and I doubt I'd be able to describe them. There are no photographs, because cameras weren't allowed (unless you were an official photographer). Go try google images or something. But yes, I've seen the throne of England. I also have a certificate and am a member of what is apparently an elite group (those who've completed the award). That's all really. I don't know what'll come next, probably a grumble or that introspection thing. I don't think I've spent too much time bragging, but I reckon if you can't blog about meeting royalty what can you blog about?

The Cleethorpes Coast Light Railway

Since I've made the last few posts (however long ago they may have been) rants/moans/childish whines about stuff that makes me unhappy, here's something cheerful (for me) to make up for it. I'm going to talk about steam trains now, so feel free to skip this and wait for me to talk about something else.

Still here? Then we'll begin.

The Cleethorpes Coast Light Railway is a 15" railway line which runs along the coast in Cleethorpes (Hence the name) between the end of the promenade and somewhere near Pleasure Island (a theme park). That'll do for background for now. We don't want you asleep just yet.

I've been to this line before, a long time ago (between 1997 and 2000, by other infomation), and whilst I enjoyed the railway, the facilities were rather poor and the public toilets at Kingsway station were behind a paddling pool which had kids flinging water at us as we went past. I've been to Cleethorpes once since, and saw the line, but it was raining and nothing seemed to be happening, so no ride on the train that day.

Sutton Belle at Kingsway. Actually at the end of the day, but I didn't get a picture in the morning.

However this time there's a new station, which is rather nice. There's a shop/booking office, and then two platforms under a roof. Since showing a picture is a better option than describing it, I'll move on to the train. The engine was a 1/4 size model of an LNER big goods engine, which was noted by my parents as being 'tiny', and it's power was questioned. You probably won't be surprised to know it was up to the task, otherwise they wouldn't have used it. The run itself is rather nice. The first section is a run across a lake and through floodgates to run alongside a coastal footpath, before coming back through the floodgates and turning past the sheds to a passing loop, beyond which lies lakeside station.

Because the line has been extended since my last visit, they now use a new platform for train services, as the old ones run up to a road and couldn't have been extended. Lakeside station also has what is claimed to be (and seems likely to be) the smallest pub on the planet, but you really didn't need to know that. Out the other side the line runs around two sides of a camp site and on to a loop located outside of the flood defences, and comes back in to to the southern terminus, Humberston North Sea Lane.

This is the best picture of North Sea Lane I can find - and that is the big goods engine that I mentioned.

Without much to do at North Sea Lane, we headed back to lakeside, where there was an exhibition in the new museum. I would show picture but I didn't take any. The normal museum exhibits were kicked outside for the weekend, and there were several trains going back and forth. So whilst my family went off elsewhere I looked around and watched some trains coming and going. You really don't need to know about all that stuff, so I'll jump to the trip back to Kingsway. We went back behind Number 24, a half-scale replica of an American 2-6-2 which was the engine running last time I went on the line. That's all you really need to know about the engine, and and that end the tour of the line.

24 (which may or not have an unofficial name I don't know about) back at Kingsway

If you are likely to find a train ride interesting and/or are nearby, then maybe you should visit. Or not. Anyway, I'm done now, so have some more pictures. If you want to know more the visit the railway's website

Three veiws of Lakeside. Sutton Flyer (Top) is entering platform three from Kingsway, Mountaineer (centre) stands at platform one, were the trains used to run from (and maybe still do, just not very often), and Mighty Atom, aka Prince of Wales, (Bottom) is outside the museum. (It isn't running. That should be obvious) I really should have taken pictures of something other than the engines, but I didn't.

Wow, three posts in three days. At this rate posting may become regular - until I run out of stuff to write about. Next time seems likely to be something introspective, if I can think of anything.

I know this story has a moral. I just don't know what it is.

Anyone who has actually read previous posts will be aware that thanks to a missing email I had to find accommodation at short notice.

Well thanks to a (presumably) incompetent landlady, I had to find more at even shorter notice.

I actually went around and looked for housing, and came across what seemed to be a nice place, good value, needed some work doing but the people doing it were starting the week after I looked at the house, and the rest of the place was fine.

An Email and a copy of the contract seem to have gone missing (separately), but given previous events that's not unacceptable. The problems began when it came to move in.

From here details will be kept vague, since my parents want compensation for costs.

I planned to move in on the Saturday of the august bank holiday, and so sent an email to the landlady the previous week to arrange to move in. Some slight confusion with mentions of changes to the locks (so previous tenants who don't return keys can't get in) and yes I can move in on that day. On the day before I leave, however, I get an email asking me to ring the landlady No other information on why, just a number. Now because I didn't check my email between it's arrival and that evening (y'know, because I do stuff other than check my emails every then seconds), I didn't pick up the email until the evening, by which point she wasn't answering.

Not sure what was happening, and still having no answer, on either the provided number or the mobile number she provided when I signed the contract, we ('we' being me and my parents, who were taking me, since I a) don't have a car, and b) had too much stuff to take on the train) set off the next day, first having sent an email letting the landlady know we were leaving and giving her my mobile number and a message that I couldn't pick up emails anymore and were were leave, so call me. She didn't. We arrived early and went and knocked on the door of the house to see if any of the current tenants knew anything. It turns out the girl who answered was living in my room, and was paying rent on it over the summer, whilst I was paying it as well. She'd had a weeks notice to leave, and was told I was arriving two days later than I was planning to. She had no other numbers, and couldn't contact the landlady either.

So, with apparently nowhere to stay (we had no idea if the landlady would show up at the agreed time) I was booked into the hotel my parents were staying at, and then we had a look at a private hall of residence. They had a cancellation and we got a tour of the room (well a different one since the description and room number given by the person in the office didn't match and the warden guessed wrong), and it's actually a better place than the house anyway (you get one guess where I'm typing this blog from).

We went back to the house at the meeting time, so we couldn't be accused of not showing up, and spoke to the tenant again (well my mother did, but she's chatty and knew what she was talking about, and I'm not and wouldn't have), telling her (a foreign student) about her rights as a tenant (like not being kicked out with a week's notice). No-one turned up with my key, so we went off and did some other stuff (which is supposed to be secret so I won't go into details), stayed in the hotel, and then went home.

On getting home I found two emails from the landlady. One explaining that the tenant was in my room and I would have to stay in another room for a couple of days, which was sent after I sent an email saying I would be leaving and unable to pick up emails, and another claiming that someone showed up at the meeting time (they didn't) and waited for 40 minutes (which based on timing seems unlikely) for me to show up (when I was on the doorstep). She also said if I had rung her (on a number neither I nor the tenant had) I could have collected the keys from her other property (firstly, I did ring her, she just hadn't given me a number she would have picked up, and secondly why leave them at that property as opposed to the one the keys are for?).

Anyway since I've gone on long enough, I'll sum it up by saying my mother spoke to her on the phone, (since my mother's assertive and stuff) and the contract was cancelled, and I now have my money back, my parents are going to try for the expenses of a wasted trip, and I'm in the private halls, which have their own issues but lack someone else in the same room as me (yet)

Anyway, to the moral of this tale. What is it? I see several, and they don't all seem to work together. Don't trust people? Be assertive? Always try for things even if it seems unlikely? Ignore people unless they explain themselves? Go with the flow because it will work itself out? I don't know. Maybe you could leave one of those comment thingys and tell me. Or not, because it doesn't matter.

Next time, an unexpected bonus of the mix-up; a visit to a railway. Then I should probably do some deep reflection on something, but I'll probably just have a moan about the troubles of settling into these halls and any difficulties with my new flatmates (who may or may not be of Asian decent, but if they are there's a good chance my dad just emptied the post which arrived before they did out of the letterbox)

I'm really bad at posting here - at least I have no readers to dissapoint

Apparently the last time I posted here was the 15th of May. Since it's now September that means I've gone far longer without posting than I should have. Mostly it's because I'm at home for the summer which gives me no privacy (actually I get a lot, it's just continually ignored by my brother), and coming on the end of a month when I was first busy with exams, and then managed to get into manga and anime (well manga readers and streaming, so I haven't spent money, but when I have it I might spend it. Without the free stuff I wouldn't have the interest to buy it) The time adds up. I should probably update you all on all the crazy stuff that's been happening, except there hasn't actually been that much crazy stuff. Well, apart from a couple of weeks ago, but I'll get to that, probably next time because it deserves it's own post.

Not that there's much point, since no-one's reading this blog anyway. I'm not surprised, since I've placed one link to it in a signature on one forum, and haven't posted there in months either. Maybe if I made an effort to bring my various internet personas together as opposed to boxing them in it would help. This blog might be the place to do it. Since no-one's reading it anyway I'm not going to lose readers, am I?

Even my youtube account, which exists solely to keep track of my subscriptions, has two subscribers of it's own, neither of which seem to be related to the single video on there (a very (very) poor camera-phone shoot of some penguins) and entirely on the strength of my comments. Which is in itself odd because other than explaining a few random bits of info on multiple topics (and a short moan at parents who think anything with a children's character in is therefore guaranteed to be perfectly safe for their two year old) I haven't actually said anything. Maybe they're less assertive versions of the people who sent friend requests (which I sort of completely ignored for reasons I don't remember) or else they want to stalk me (In which why me?)

Actually, I suppose I must be fair. I haven't signed up to anyone else's blog, so people could be reading it and not bothering to use the tracking thing (well with my update frequency, what's the point), or reading it and deciding they don't really care about my social ineptitude or ridiculously hard to define luck.

Anyway, if my spate of blogging stands up, next time you get to hear about the crazy stuff from two weeks ago, and maybe then some integration of aspects of me, if it doesn't take too long to come.

So long for now, non-existent reader.

Sray eMail stops chance of a lifetime.

I'm unhappy.

Well, it probably wasn't likely that I was ecstatic about something, given my last post, but still, I'm unhappy.

I was supposed to be going to America for my second year of university, but that's now officially off.

The reason.

A missing email.

Yes, one little email - and some people must send dozens in a day - has gone missing and wrecked everything. Actually it went missing two months ago, but I've only just found out this week. I'm rather disappointed. I was looking forward to it. Oh well, I suppose I can still go to America, to travel, and I won't have any work to do. I also have time to work somewhere and have more money. But it won't exactly be easy for me to get to know people there. That's what was good about the exchange - it would give me an instant circle of acquaintances, which may have been friends.

Well, let's just hope me going to America wouldn't have allowed someone to cure cancer or something. Now that would be very annoying.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, I have to find housing for next year now. It's not exactly easy. Most of the housing will have been taken by now, and whilst I'm resigned to the fact that I have to share with strangers (although there's a few instant acquaintances there), it's going to be tricky to find a free room. But, I only started a couple of hours ago, so there's time yet. But then it's not easy for me when I have to phone these people. Not only am I very nervous about speaking, I'm using the phone and contacting them. So I use emails. It's a good job I'm forgiving and/or have perspective. I won't swear off them. They may end up getting me a better friend than I'd have had in America.

We'll never know, shall we?

Bye

Surely I'm allowed to glue my eyes together, what with being an adult an' all

I am rather late with this - thinking about it it was over three weeks ago - but the next post topic is still playing out and I feel a need to put something in. So here we go - a rant about age restriction.

It seems Poundland - a chain of UK retail shops - has succumbed to the 'nanny state' ideas in the most complete and utter way possible - they are actually restricting dangerous items to higher ages than they have to by law. Wait, did I say 'dangerous items'? I meant 'useful common household tools and supplies', like screwdrivers and superglue. OK I'll set up the nice story for this.

Having got back to uni, I found bad packing meant some minor damage had occurred, and I needed to fix it. Superglue was (and is) the best option for this, so in a lunch breack I had a look around a couple of shops. Having only seen one behind a counter in one shop, and with little time before the lecture began, I left them, recalling pound shops do multiple tubes.

After the exam I went into the shop, found the nice 6-pack for £1, and took it to the counter.
"Can you prove you're over 21" (well it was more polite than that but I forget things)
Well, being 19, proving that would be difficult. Sadly I'm not (yet, at any rate) the kind of person to argue, at least not to checkout staff (who are really the 'grunts' of the big chains - no offence intended to any such person) about company policy, so I just left, although I did give some confused looks and such, which got the response 'you might glue your eyelids together.'

You see this is where it gets stupid. There are legal restrictions on superglue in the UK - 18 - for safety. A three year old with the stuff could cause no end of problems. But I'm not a three year old. A 15 year old might do something stupid on purpose. But I'm not a 15 year old, and I wouldn't say I look like the doing-something-stupid-on-purpose type. I fail to see what difference it makes with me being 19 (or 18) rather that 21. But this is Poundland's policy on all useful houshold items. At 18 I can poison my liver, destroy my lungs, get myself AIDs and even, should I have the money, send a ton or so of metal flying along at 70mph (and in the right place, I can send said metal past pedestrians only a few feet or maybe less away at as much as 60), but according to Poundland I can't fix broken things or tighten loose screws (insert comment about loose screws and the heads of Pondland here).

Yet it doesn't seem to apply to medicines which contain paracetamol. You know, that thing you can only buy 32 tablets of at once? They'll sell it to everyone, or at least that's what it seemed like when I had a cold in March. I'm not sure on Tobacco, having never smoked, but a chance glance around a new (to me, at least) store at home over Easter reveals something that the highly-moralled people may dislike - Poundland now sell Pornographic DVDs to over 18's. Yes, that's right. I can buy adult films (likely bad ones, simply because they're £1 each) but I can't get things I need to fix, say, a chair.

I didn't buy any adult films, because I didn't want any, but I did get some superglue - from another shop, who wanted me to be over 18. Shame I only got 1/6 of what I would have got in Poundland. Maybe I should go back and try and buy some again, just to make a point. Or maybe I should just spend the effort on speaking to people who I will see again.

Who am I?

Who am I?

That's an interesting question:

I'm 18, male, about 6 foot tall...but that's a list of facts, the kind of thing you find in a character profile in a video game manual. You could figure it out from pictures of me.

So, let's try again:

I'm a zoology student, a weak agnostic sliding between weak atheist and weak deist, a...still character profile entries, this time about my ideas and philosophies.

One more go:

I'm an aromantic asexual, introverted and with tendencies to Asperger's syndrome...Still a character profile, with nothing special, nothing that makes me alive.

So the question is am I just a character profile, a set of options from a list?

The answer is yes and no.

It's yes because, when you look at it as a list, that's what it is. Everybody can be split into different categories, and whilst if you make them narrow enough everyone ends up with their own, that's useless, so you end up splitting people into helpful groups, like 'straight' or 'gay' or 'white' or 'Asian' or 'tall' or 'thin' or whatever. What makes people different is the combinations. That's it. We're just a form with lots of details.

But there is something else. Right at the bottom of the form there's a 'history' and a 'other info' box, which are just blank. There's no limits, so you can say whatever. The history fills itself in, what happens to people, how it makes them who they are. But it's the 'other' box, the one with no rules, that's the key to whatever it is that makes us more than just a list of categories. But what goes there? Personality? Maybe, but you can split that up into enough elements that it's all just yes/no.

Maybe I'm missing something. Maybe there's just that something, that spark of humanity. Or maybe I cut things up within my mind so far that there's no human left. Just a set of categories and yes/no's and lists.

I suppose I never felt exactly like I was human past the body I have. It's not that I simply view people's humanity as nothing more than brain cells firing. I do see humanity as ultimately brain cells firing but that doesn't make it anything less than what it is. It's like acomputer. Just because it can, say, do all the work you need to do (and read this), isn't lessened by the fact that it's made of silicone and metal and plastic and runs of electricity. Why is it such a bad thing for the human brain to run off carbohydrates and nitrogen and phosphorous and elecricity?

I don't see the human mind as anything really. It's there. I have no need to look deeper because the field of psychology isn't one I'm interested in. But I don't see it as anything more. I have no need to look beyond, to something outside of us, for it to be magical.

I am human, I know i am. I have the genes of Homo sapien, I was born to humans, if I wanted to I could mate (translation: have sex) with other humans, and any future offspring I have would be human. But I don't feel a part of humanity. I feel as though I'm just along for the ride.

Hence the title for this blog. I don't feel part of humanity, and feel little conection to my own human self, hence I feel I look on social issues as though i'm an outsider, and so I present them from an outsider's position.

Well I'll end here, in the hopes that you arn't put off and would read the next one.

Farewell