thank you for the music

looks like the cancer that is the recession has infected me.
I'm on gardening leave, and will be on it until about Wednesday or so when they confirm to me whether I have a job still. it's unlikely that I won't. so will become another statistic, and joining the queues at the job centre.


joy.

WTF?!?

January 23rd 2009

Kidbrooke railway station in south-east London is the latest on the Southeastern network to have gained Secure Station accreditation.

The award, made under the Secure Stations Scheme managed by the Department for Transport and British Transport Police, is an assurance to passengers and staff over real efforts made to deter crime and anti-social behaviour.

Accreditation is given against strict security criteria, including:
- good fencing and boundaries - fencing yes, but it's shit.
- good CCTV coverage - it doesnt work
- good lighting - ha ha ha ha!
- good use of corner mirrors and signage - where?
- a reduction in crime rates at the station - i'll give them this. i haven't witnessed anymore muggings lately, and it's been a while since the station was cordoned off with crime lab techs and police tape. - actually take this back. mum's just said they've been robbed atleast 4 times this year alone!!!

- regular station maintenance audits including removal of graffiti within 24-hours - they removeg graffiti, but dont grit platforms, whats up with that??
- availability of staff with conflict management knowledge - what staff? ticket office is always shut!
- positive results in an independent survey of passengers using the station on how they feel about security at the station. - independent meaning people who dont live in the area....

Southeastern's managing director Charles Horton said: "This is another significant step, both for Southeastern and for our passengers. Safety and security remain our highest priorities."

Nick Raynsford, MP for Greenwich and Woolwich, said: "People want to feel safe when they are using public transport, and this is particularly important at relatively isolated stations such as Kidbrooke. So I welcome the steps that have been taken to improve security at Kidbrooke Station, which has resulted in this accreditation."

Cllr Peter Brooks, Greenwich Council's Cabinet Member for Regeneration, said: "The Council's ambitious plans to transform Kidbrooke, particularly the area close to the station, and create the development of a sustainable and healthy community are already underway. These plans include creating a new hub around Kidbrooke Station which will act as a focal point for the community, so it's fantastic news that the passenger survey shows that people already feel safer here. It shows that the investment by the Council to set-up the Ferrier Safer Neighbourhood Team, providing a local more visible police presence, has helped the local community feel safer."

Southeastern

I as someone who lives near this train station do not feel safe. There is fuck all police presence in this neighbourhood, as for regenerating the area, you've been saying that for the last fucking 6 years, and have done fuck all about it. Greenwich council and South Eastern Trains are fucking useless.

thought i'd post an excerpt from Hotel Babylon :D

Just after 9am, the businessman in Room 302 who wants to check out. He is one of those sleazy guys with dandruff on his collar and egg on his tie; to be honest, he just looks like he needs a good wash. I type in his room number into the computer in the small office behind the desk, and press Print. Where's that monosyllabic Reservations assistant, Ewan, when you need him? The machine goes crazy, churning out reams of paper with different (976) numbers on them. Normally these phone calls would cost something like 50p a minute, but in the hotel it is 10 for sixty seconds and Room 302 has been hitting the porn lines late in to the night. I tear off the sheet and stare. He has been dialing various porn numbers solidly between 2:13a.m. and 4:02a.m., and he now owes the hotel the grand total of 850.

It does sound expensive, but he is by no means the worst. A couple of weeks ago there was this bloke on his own who ran up a 3,000 phone over the two days in his room. It was extraordinary. We did call up (when we could get through) a couple of times, and tell him that he was running up rather a large bill, but he didn't seem to care. His sister had paid for his room in advance and we did have her credit card swipe behind the desk, so we weren't too nervous. But when he came to check out, he said he could not pay the bill. After much wrangling, we called his sister, who turned up and hit the roof. Bizarrely, her anger was directed at us for letting it get so out of control. When I finally informed her that we had spoken to her brother on at least two occasions she became suitably contrite and paid up, or at least I think she has. Adrian came down out of his office to sort it out and I heard the woman make mention of sending a check.

Although, Room 302 is not the largest -porn chat-line bill that I have seen, I know that it is going to be large enough to cause problems, especially as the man was booked in by his office, and he is clearly on some business trip. It is quite hard to explain an 850 porn bill to one's boss.

I walk back out into Reception with my meter-long bill.

"Oh, dear," says Liz, back from the bathroom. "Don't tell me we've got a talker."

"He looks like he's been a bit chatty," I nod. "That's for sure."

"Porn?" she asks.

"What else?" I ask, beginning to fold up the print out.

"Oh, OK, I don't know," she replies huffily, with an annoying little shake of her offended shoulders. "He could have been on the phone to his wife."

"Yeah, right. No one talks to their wife that much. Anyway," I say, looking up at the sound of the opening. "Keep quiet. Here he comes."

Dandruff Man approaches the front desk, looking as if he hardly slept a minute last night, which, from his long porn phone bill, has to be the case.

"Good morning, sir," I say. "I trust you had a pleasant stay."

"Very good," says the man, his suit shining in the morning sun. "Slept like a log."

"Good, sir," I smile, handing over the bill half in and out of the envelope. "Would you like to check your bill, sir?"

"Yeah," he sniffs, as the long length of paper unfurls in front of him. "850 quid!" he says suddenly. "850 quid." You say I've spent 850 quid on the phone?

"Yes, sir."

"That's outrageous," he says. "850 quid on the phone! You can't charge that."

"I'm afraid that is our standard rate for a premium rate telephone line, sir."

"Premium rate! Those aren't premium rate!" he says.

"I'm afraid they are, sir.".

"No they're not!" he says.

"I am afraid they are, sir."

"Will you stop being afraid!" he hisses, his cheeks bright scarlet with anger.

"Please don't raise your voice, sir," I say.

"I did not raise my voice!" he says raising his voice.

"Fine, sir. Your room is 250 a night for two night, you have spent 32 in the mini bar...."

"On two whiskies," he says, slapping the top of Reception with his hand.

"Two whiskies, some chocolate, a bag of chips and some mineral water."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, chips and some mineral water," he adds sarcastically. "That really is going to break the bloody bank."

"And you have spent 850 on the telephone."

"This place is daylight robbery," he says shaking his head, releasing some flakes onto the counter. "I'm sorry, I'm not paying 850 quid on a phone bill," he says. "You should have warned me it would be this expensive and anyway they aren't premium rate lines."

"Hot Honeys is a premium rate line," I try to explain. "It tells you that as soon as you dial up."

"How do you know?"

"Because we have had many customers use it before."

"Can we come to some sort of arrangement?" he asks.

"I am very happy to make up separate receipts, if you want, sir?" I suggest.

"Right," he says.

"We could also waive about 50 off the bill," I add. I have done this plenty of times before. It usually makes them so grateful that they pay up the rest immediately. It saves an awful lot of fighting, for the cost of 50.

"Really?" he asks sounding surprised and pleased at the same time. "That would be ever-so nice of you."

"No problem, sir," I say.

"Can I put the room on the credit card," he says, licking his thumb. "And I'll pay the phone bill in cash." He brings a wad of 50 notes and starts peeling them off, one by one, placing them on the counter. "There we go." He smiles. "800 quid."

"Thank you very much, sir," I say. "I'll just run your card through. Would you like any help with your bags?"

my pants are on fire, dontcha know?

Happy February. and the like.

Yeah, we had snow. I couldnt get to work for two days (Monday and Tuesday) because London practically shut down because of the snow. Family in Canada were pissing themselves laughing, cause the amount of snow we got, they get pretty much double that every day and they manage just fine. we did make a snowman though. that was fun. and I made a snow angel. that was HILARIOUS!

I do feel bad though, cause I kicked my snowman in the head and it kind of esploded. :D was very funny. if you did that to a real person you'd be arrested.

so I cant think of a lot thats going on tbh.

went to do an ICV visit today, and they had a really agressive drunk french man who got brought in. it was very interesting to see how they handled it. it all kicked off, and took like 4 police men to wrestle him to the floor and re-cuff him, and get him in a cell.

this Friday, we're all going out for Drew's birthday. Off for a curry and then on to the pub. awesome. I'm really looking forward to it.

Saturday, not doing much but watching the Rugby on the tellybox. It's England v Italy.

Sunday, we're going to venture into Reading to go to hobbycraft to get weddingy stuff. should be good fun.

Daniel has now joined the employment world, which is great :D well awesome for him. He's going to be working for the Marriott. Can't wait to hear some of the stories he comes home with. :-) think Hotel Babylon.
which btw is a bloody good read. as is Airline Babylon.

not really got anything else to say, so I suppose i'll stop typing now