Saturday, 29 June 2024

A Dusty Bar

Jonny sat at the bar gazing at the whisk bottles on the mirrored back wall. After two days, he needed a good whisky to clear the dust from his throat. As for the dust that was everywhere else, that was another matter.


As much as he needed a whisky, he knew it was not to be. It had been nearly a year since he'd last allowed a whisky or any other booze to pass his lips; it was a year since he last sat in Freddy's Bar on the same seat. The bar was just the same: quiet. The bar always had the faint smell of tobacco drifting in from the outside, especially when the place was busy. It wasn't so smelly, and it certainly wasn't busy.


 It was Tuesday. Nobody was around. Jonny sat looking at himself in the mirror and didn't like what was looking back at him. Looking back at him was a haggard, dirty, tired-looking fifty-year-old; he hardly recognised himself. It had been a tough journey, and he doubted that the journey was over just yet. 


He waited for the bar lady to return with the straight coffee he'd ordered minutes earlier. Instead of the door to the kitchen opening, he heard the door open behind him. Looking in the mirror, he could see who had walked through the door; It was the last person on the earth that Jonny needed to come through the door.


Twisting his seat around on a chromium stand, it squeaked as he turned to face his nemesis. He recognised the smell of body odour and wondered what he smelt like. Bringing himself back to reality, Jonny felt challenged by the smell that was standing in the doorway.

'What do you want now?' Jonny scowled, 'You've got me back here; there's nothing further I can do for you.


'You know what I want,' the figure said from the shadow cast by the sign's light, swinging on its attachments outside the front door.

'I haven't got it, and I've never had it. What makes you think that I have it?' Jonny sounded desperate and frightened.

The figure advanced from the shadow towards him, a gun in their right hand. Jonny didn't move a muscle. He knew he was in another tight situation.


'You're going to give me just what I want right now, or it's a good night for you' The figure levelled the gun at Johnny's head.


There was a crash. It was the sound of cutlery dropping on the kitchen floor. A woman issued several expletives. Both turned their heads as the woman burst through the door carrying a steaming mug of black coffee. She trundled down to the other end of the bar without looking.

'You want cream and sugar? I'll have to go back for it and clear up that box of cutlery I've knocked over…'  Stopping in mid-sentence, she looked up. 'Are you on your own?' she asked.

Jonny wasn't there, he'd disappeared.



Two days earlier, it had been a lonesome and dusty walk towards the railhead. Everywhere was dusty, sand blown in from the desert during the night of the storm. The place smelled of cattle, the usual passengers in the freight cars that stopped here for half a day. They did so twice a month. But today was different. Today was different; the Amtrak stopper going north/south stopped here.

 

    There were no cattle today, only Jonny and his rucksack slung over his shoulder. He could hear the train in the distance and increased his step to the ticket office. When he got to it, it was closed—at least the hatch was closed. 


    Banging heavily on the hatch, he waited; it didn't open. Jonny heard the heavy thudding of the diesel motor of the Amtrak coast into the platform and started coming to a halt with the sound of its squeaky brakes. Jonny rushed out and looked up and down the platform. All he could see was the train's Conductor waving his flag towards the driver at the opposite end of the platform. Jonny hitched the rucksack onto his shoulder better and climbed the stairs into the nearest carriage. A whistle sounded, and with a jolt, the train moved off. It had stood still barely for thirty seconds. Jonny staggered down the carriage to take a seat further down. 


Minutes later, he heard the door to the carriage open,

'Tickets, please,' the Conductor brought a smirk to Jonny's face as he was the only person in the carriage. He strode up to where Jonny sat. The Conductor wore a peaked cap and a blue uniform suit.

'Tickets, please,' Jonny looked up at him and smiled

'How much to San Remo?' reaching into the pocket of his filthy denim jeans, he fished through the residue of his pocket and pulled out a big roll of ten dollar bills.

'Fifty dollars' Rifling through a roll of bills, Jonny plucked out four. Here, that's forty dollars and put the roll back into his pocket.

'Fifty dollars, I said.' The Conductor stood impassively.

'That's it, that's all I've got' Jonny turned away to look out the window. It was dark now, and all he could see was the reflection of the Conductor. He saw the Conductor turning away and walking out of the carriage.


The train travelled through the night, and nobody else entered the carriage. The gentle movement of the train on the tracks rocked Jonny to sleep. It had been a long journey, and it wasn't over yet. He slept briefly for about an hour. Then, he was abruptly woken by something dripping from his head. Wiping his hand over the top of his head, Jonny was surprised to see that his hand was covered in blood. Sitting up straight, Jonny wondered if the blood was his. Again, he wiped his head and looked at his hand. This time, there was blood also on the back of his hand. 


Looking above, Jonny saw that there was a large cardboard box in the rack above where he was sitting. He couldn't remember seeing it when he boarded the train and sat in the carriage. The box was still dripping—not a great amount, but still dripping. There was now a small pool of blood forming on the plastic covering of the seat.


Jonny pondered for a moment. Is that blood? What is in that box? Dare I open it? The train rocked across a crossing point on the track, and Jonny stumbled and grabbed hold of an upright chrome pole that supported the racks above. Uttering an expletive, he regained his composure.


'What's in that box?' he murmured to himself. Looking around, he confirmed that he was still alone in the carriage. Reaching up to the box, his hand hesitated; the box was still dripping. The box was made of strong cardboard, something similar to an achieving box, but bigger. It wasn't deep in height; it wouldn't have fitted on the rack had it been deeper, but it was longer. Jonny wondered again what could be inside.


    The train jolted again on the track, and he stumbled backwards onto the seats on the other side of the carriage. He sat down on one of them and looked up at the box. It was an incongruous-looking box. There were no markings on it, and from what he could see, there was no address label either. What could it be?


    There was only one way to find out: He had to open the box and see what was inside. Jonny stood again and got himself closer to reach for the box. He widened his stance against the train's movement, reached up with both hands and got hold of it. Jonny lifted the box carefully to maintain it upright. He didn't wish to spill it all over the carriage floor if it was full of liquid. He steadily turned around and placed it in the set opposite to his.


'Damn,' he thought, 'that wasn't a good idea; that seat is damp from whatever this crud is inside this box.'


    His hands went towards the box lid, and Jonny hesitated again. Did he want to know what was inside? It surely would mean trouble either way.


    Curiosity got the better of him, and he lifted the lid. There was a smell that he'd not noticed before; the train carriage already had a fusty smell, and previous travellers' hot, sweaty bodies were leaving their mark. He lifted the lid further and peered inside.


    Jonny was horrified at what he could see. It was a severed head. He couldn't quite see the face, even if he wanted to, but another unexpected item was inside the box.


     It was a conductor's hat. 


Saturday, 22 June 2024

Ships Flooding and Cyber Attacks.

 

When I worked for BAE Surface Ships, I became involved with Business Continuity Planning and joined the BAE Systems Business Continuity Working Group. 

It led to a few trips away from the office in Dartmouth. We were often making trips to Portsmouth. We worked hard and played hard.

The working group was led by a lady in the Scotstun Yard in Glasgow. BAE regularly booked seats on the early morning and late afternoon flights from Southampton to Glasgow. That allowed the people working at Portsmouth to start early, complete a day's work in either the Scotstun or Govan Yards, and be back home at a reasonable time.

At Dartmouth, I needed a different option. I booked myself on a flight from Exeter, but the return flight wouldn't be for a couple of days later. That assured me a night in a nice hotel and the use of a hire car. It also gave me time to visit an old friend across the other side of Scotland.

We had a hectic time. There was a lot of work aligning all the yards to the same business continuity plans. I probably hear you screaming at the screen, WHAT IS BUSINESS CONTINUITY?

Simply put, if you are walking towards work and smoke and flames are rising from the site, how will you continue working? Now, there are many other scenarios you can think of, and that was what we were working on. 

Only a few companies have such plans or even understand they need to be worked on. However, some insurance companies may require it as a requirement for coverage.

BAE systems started taking a greater interest in Business Continuity after the trial of a Patrol Boat from one of the yards. It had been outside the confines of the River Clyde and was coming back when there was a disastrous water ingress; she was flooding. Without power, where she was, she was a danger to shipping. It took quite some time before help and assistance came from the yards. It was an enormous near miss. When all investigations occur, future sea trial outcomes will be two emergency centres, one in each yard, Scotstun and Govan. We visited the Scotstun centre. It was impressive, and when fully manned, it was easy to see that sea trials would be much safer.

What has caused me to write about this somewhat dry subject this week? 

On June 3rd, ransomware attacked NHS blood testing company Synnovis. Since that date, the group Qilin has been attempting to extort money from the company. This has affected several hospitals in London and caused the cancellation of many vital operations because Synnovis cannot conduct blood matching. On Thursday, Oilin published 400Gb of personal information on their darknet site.

NHS data is vulnerable to such attacks. It is reported that the United Health Group paid out £17.3m in ransom earlier this year. The publication of the data from this week's attack would indicate that a ransom has not been paid this time, but at what cost?

Health companies worldwide must be firmly in the sights of these cyber criminals. Data security can only go so far before criminals enter systems. What happens next? Business continuity.

In the case of the NHS, it goes back to paper and pens. I have seen it happen in documentaries on TV, and that was a fundamental fault with the system, not a hack.

In my trust, we would return to basic reports and pen and paper. I would be irresponsible to write about how we maintain that process here. Regulatory Requirements ensure that tests of these backup systems are undertaken frequently.

When we first moved to East Devon, the place where I worked required a massive shake-up when I got there. Safety was non-existent, so business continuity wasn't even considered. As much as I attempted to change the culture, the Directors had none of it. That's why I'm working for the NHS these days. I did have the last laugh as I met one of the employees walking past where we used to live. It was sometime between the first two lockdowns. The HSE inspectors visited the factory and immediately shut the place down. 'That was what Stuart was trying to do' was heard. 

Consider considering what you would do if denied access to your workplace, especially if you're the owner.

What does this have to do with my writing? What if my laptop suddenly died? It's a thought, isn't it?

Have a great and safe writing week, everybody.  


Saturday, 15 June 2024

Mouse Jigglers - Yes Really

On the morning drive to work, I wanted to know what I would write about for this week's blog. There was nothing unusual about that, as that happens most weeks. I trawled through the radio stations for inspiration but pulled into work no further forward than when I set off from home.

During a break later in the morning, I spotted a story on the BBC website titled 'Mouse Jigglers' pretending to work' fired by bank'.

'Mouse Jigglers'? What are they? Well, read on.

Wells Fargo Bank, a US banking giant, has sacked several people who, they say, have been faking keyboard activity. This gave the company the impression they were working when they were not.


Two things stick out for me. 


According to the article, 'Mouse Jigglers' can be purchased on Amazon for about $10 and have sold thousands in the last few months. This intrigued me enough to search on Amazon, and they are there. Have a search yourself.

There are several different versions, but they basically do the same thing: They move the mouse, either physically or through the on-screen cursor.


This brings me to my second thought. Presumably, the company has logging software monitoring its workers. Wells Fargo has permitted hybrid working since 2022, when workers were allowed to work from home for some time. 


I have read and seen articles about concerns that employers were employing keylogging software to monitor employees' productivity without their knowledge. This fear has come true.

The BBC article confirms that six workers have resigned or been sacked after being called into the office.


I was discussing the article with a colleague, and they wondered if our work system used a similar one. They probably do. 


These software programs can control security, so our systems have cover. Occasionally, companies aggressively use such software to weed out perceived problems within their workforce. But with better management, the problem wouldn't exist in the first place. 

I had to work from home several times, and I hated it. I took every advantage of going into the office, even if we had to wear masks and stay two metres apart, with all the windows open. Happy days.


Here's the link for the article. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cjll01220yeo

Have a great week, everybody.


Saturday, 8 June 2024

This weeks journey and more

 

Last week's blog was about an awful journey home. The irony of this week's is that it starts with my trip to work.

I usually listen to BBC Radio Two on the way to work. I'm driving around when Zoe Balls' show is on, or she hands over to Vernon Kay at 9.30 a.m. I like these two presenters, and when they are away, I'm not so keen on the stand-ins, no matter how good they are. It is now that I will start searching around the other stations. 

I'm not keen on Radio 5 Live, especially when the media is fixated on the upcoming General Election. This is when I find solace in Radio Four after the morning program. Radio Four has informative programmes that last about fifteen minutes and are suitable for my twenty-minute journey to work.


On Thursdays, I particularly look forward to Michael Mosley's series, 'Just One Thing.' This week's one was about the benefits of eating slowly and taking about twenty minutes to eat a meal. Michael usually has someone undertake what he talks about for seven days, and we get to hear how they get on. This week's task has several excellent benefits.

Later in the day, I was saddened to hear that Michael had gone missing whilst on the beach on the Greek island of Symi. As I write this on Friday morning, he is still missing, and they have now sent drivers to look for him. It doesn't sound good. My thoughts are with his family at this time. My Thursday morning journey to work will be different without his excellent program in the radio.


In other news, I have hearing aids inbound. I have noticed a downturn in my hearing over the last few months or more, and others around me have probably noticed it more.

Realising that my right ear was blocked before our recent holiday, I booked in with our local hearing centre, just around the corner from us. It was a bit of a challenge as my right ear was very clogged, but my wife was fascinated to watch what was coming out. I knew she was strange; I suppose that's why I married her!

 

A month ago, I decided it was time for a hearing test. Yesterday was that time.

It transpires that, somewhat surprisingly, after twenty-five years in the Royal Marines Band Service and sitting for most of that time in front of the timpani and cymbals, my hearing hasn't been damaged. What I am experiencing is the effects of getting older. Hardly surprising, I hear you say, almost.

I'm on the cusp of needing hearing aids. The test shows that I am missing quite a few letters in speech, and that isn't going to get any better. I had just about made my mind up to go for aids, but what convinced me was this morning walking Murphy. Kathy was facing away from me and speaking, but I didn't hear anything. So after our Coffee and Croissant and a game of Tri-Onimos ( I won, big style), we returned home via the Hearing Centre. Thankfully, my fashion advisor was with me, and I selected the correct colour for my silver fox hair. 


These are rather 'Gucci' hearing aids. They are programmable and have a remote control. There is an app (I always like apps), and they will sync with my iPhone and MacBook. The fitting is next week. How much will I notice the difference? Only time will tell, I suppose.

I might have a pair of Apple AirPods for sale in the next few weeks.

I must thank Colin and the team at Honiton Hearing Centre for all the help they have given me. Their advice has been excellent, and I can highly recommend them.


I've also been struggling with the phones at work. It was suggested that I use a double-eared headset with a boom microphone; I currently have a single-eared set. I ordered those at work yesterday, although I think I will look more like a pilot answering the phone than a Health and Social care Coordinator. It will give the office a laugh, and we need that sometimes.


Where am I with my writing?

I'm still working on the rewrite/second draft of 'Beating Dartmoor'. It's been a slow process, but I'm hopeful that it will be ready for serious professional editing by the end of the summer.

I still carry on with 'Mince Pie' during our weekly writing hour on Zoom with William, which I unfortunately missed last week due to working. 

The piece I am struggling with, sort of, is the short story for the anthology. I have two on the go, and I need to sit down with OmniOutliner and get where these stories are going.


How's your writing going this week?

Have a great week, everybody. It seems like summer may have arrived. Let's hope so.

Saturday, 1 June 2024

A rare trip to Dartmouth - Brief Catchups and a Nightmare Journey Home

I needed to go down to Dartmouth on Friday morning. I had to meet an old friend to sort out some things for the lodge. 

I left about 0900, and the traffic wasn't too bad on the way down. I picked up my friend from East Allington, where he lives. I have been there many times, but it has been ten years since I last went.

I first arrived at Dartmouth just before Easter in 1981. Fresh-faced and straight from the Royal Marines School of Music, Britannia Royal Naval College was my first draft as a qualified Musician. I was back and forth to the town for the next thirty-five years. 

My wife and I moved to East Devon in 2016. It was a big move to the unknown for us both then, and it wasn't easy at first. We are settled now and will not be moving too far anytime soon.

As I drove into town, I saw blue flashing lights on the other side of the college way. It is a well-known position for there to be a speed camera to catch the unwary driver, but this seemed a bit more. As I travelled past at the statutory thirty miles per hour, which was not easy on that hill, I could see what was happening.

We were lucky to find a parking spot on the north embankment for two hours. Interestingly, I am currently rewriting a couple of scenes from my novel, which I've staged on that embankment and the pontoons on the opposite side of the river. I've taken a bit of writer's liberty writing those scenes, and if you know the North Embankment at Dartmouth, you'll have to suspend your knowledge for a few minutes when you read it. 

It was a nice walk down the riverfront, and when we got to the bank, the staff recognised me. I then spent a rather embarrassing couple of minutes trying to remember their last address on record for me. With a little prompt, I eventually remembered, thankfully.

Then I recognised a lady who came into the bank. I worked with her husband at Sandquay, the boatyard at the bottom of the naval college. Holger was our store manager; we were very fortunate to have him; he was vastly experienced and always kept us from going short of materials and stores. Being Danish and speaking a few other languages, he was a huge asset when we had to obtain prices and orders from abroad. It was lovely to chat with him for a short time outside of the bank. We could have talked for hours over a few beers. It was good to see him in good health and sounding really chirpy.

A little later, after we had completed our requirements at the bank, the postman came to the door as we were leaving. It wasn't Postman Pat but a former RM colleague of mine, Dickie. Many of you reading this will know who that is. It was good to have another quick chat.

A lovely coffee, a piece of carrot cake, and later, a return walk to the car and blow me down if I didn't meet another of my former colleagues from Sandquay. That was one period I enjoyed after leaving the RMs. The ten years I spent at the yard were a great time, and it was sad when the MOD didn't renew the lease for the site. It is pleasing to know that the guys we left behind are still working there in a smaller capacity than when we were made redundant, but they are still doing sterling service for the RN college, albeit with another company. 

The drive back to East Devon has prompted this week's blog. It was the usual drag to get out to the A38 from Dartmouth; anyone who has made that journey will remember it well. I had the radio on, and just as I pulled onto the A38 at Buckfastleigh, the traffic report came on. Sure enough, a few miles ahead of me at Drumbridges was a hold-up. I drove as far as possible and wanted to avoid getting stuck in a hold-up. I dodged off the A38 towards Newton Abbot just as the traffic started building up.

I thought I had been clever, but to my horror, the town had traffic queues. I was stuck in that traffic for quite some time. 

Once I got through the town and onto the A380, I was on my way again. It was the same journey home I made when working in Newton Abbot. To my horror, when I went over the River Exe, the traffic built up again to my exit off to the A30. 

After about twenty minutes, I got through that hold-up and on to the last leg of the homeward journey. It was going well…until it built up to two lanes of traffic a couple of miles from the Honiton turnoff.

It was nice to be back home, but I was tired. I have heard it takes a week to recover per time zone after travelling. We were six time zones away in Mexico, but I think we are still halfway across the Atlantic.

Have a great week, everybody.