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I think it was 16 years here and never got done for wife beating! I did have a go but she sparked me out first round.

So you've been identified as a 'foreigner' ? Fuckmine, I wonder what gave you away

TIE ?? = Totally incapable Europeans ??

The ones I saw were on for someone special, we are not talking standard British issue. I forgot to mention I hung on and copped a second eyeful when she left, purely for confirmation you understand.

Porthcawl storm

What a load of bollocks, he doesn’t SAY anything he shouts it with his two foot gob, come to think of it that’s just like you @XTreme.

The Great Nebula in Orion and Running Man Nebula, very common targets

Stuff I can't pull open easily any more, plastic covered items etc. More and more I have to go looking for scissors after a fruitless few attempts. People who are so busy faffing about in their cars doing other stuff they miss a green light and go at the last minute just as the red comes back on. Things you have to do at work that you know are just a box ticking exercise and makes no difference what so ever but take up your time anyway. Police cars obeying speed limits in front of you when you are in a hurry and there is no alternative route. Olives. Prawns, they look at you. Noncey tea.

Extinction Rebellion mob …. Lefty snowflakes…. any other delicate cunts

I worked with a guy who had been everywhere, done everything, knew everything......you know the type. It was in a motor factors in Swansea in the late 70's......I was about 24/25.......he was mid thirties and originally from London. I remember one time I asked him if he was in the Swinging Sixties London scene.......and he came out with all this shit about kipping at Hendrix's flat, being in the studio when "All you need is Love" was recorded, out drinking with Keith Moon etc. So I asked him was it true with the Mick Jagger - Marianne Faithful Mars Bar story? He turned to me, and said absolutely emphatically......"Too bleedin right it's true.......cos Mick used my Mars Bar to do it".

I was thinking earlier about some of the characters that I've worked with over the years and some of the things they've done or we've done. One story that I remembered had me laughing to myself: In my last company there was an engineer that was originally from South London, but he now lives on the south coast. Frank was in the paratroopers for a while before he had a career change. He was a couple of years older than me. Frank isn't that tall, but he is as broad as he is tall and there doesn't seem to be a discernible neck attaching his shaved head to his body! Anyway, Frank used to occasionally get sent from his home at the seaside to jobs in London, which he absolutely hated. He'd get the train up to the city, get the job done as quickly as possible and head back to his haven. One day he had a job in St Thomas' Hospital on the South Bank, opposite the houses of Parliament. It didn't go well and he was there all day and into the evening. When he left the hospital he was in an absolutely foul mood and tramped back towards Waterloo Station to get the train home. On the walk back he was approached by a young guy who pulled a knife and demanded Frank's wallet. Frank squared up to the youth, glowering at him and snarled "do I look like a fucking victim to you?!!" The lad stared at Frank for a second, with his mouth open, then turned around and ran away! Frank was a lovely guy, but you didn't want to get on the wrong side of him!

Moon

Started on my favourite hill near home and went to the seaside, that you can see on the horizon on the previous picture

My shit gripper is that the cunt next door just will not stop breathing.

It's in the shed, battery disconnected, and a sheet over it, can't see it, then it don't exist, works for the Ostrich.

The Milky Way core over Three Cliffs Bay

Got to 1.30 and he'd still lifted nothing.

Autumn colours are nearly here again This was a previous Autumn at Pont Cwmfedwen

I'll start off with something from my early teens. In Quakers yard where i lived there was a caravan site which was used by the council to house people and we were always messing about there. Our favourite prank at the time was to get hold of a caravan and shake the fuck out of it then run. As well as the shaking prank we used to knock the power off for the caravan as the main isolator was in a small shed outside every van, that used to really wind them up. The favorite caravan to shake was lived in by a bloke in his 30's it was our favourite because he was a chaser and he was fast he used to explode out the van door and give us a good run really got the adrenaline going One night we decided to step things up a bit so before we shook his van we removed the small metal steps from outside the door then grabbed a hold and shook like our lives depended on it, i was closest to the door and can still picture it in my head now all i could see was the door explode open and this foot come out to land on the steps that were no longer there he done a full on head first into his garden shed and fell in a heap on the floor which was a good job for us as we were laughing so hard we could hardly run

Another thing about Frank that used to make us laugh was that every now and then he'd get sent to a job in Essex. So Frank would drive up from his home and through the Dartford tunnel to get to the job. That was all ok, but on the way back he'd drive into London and go through Blackwall tunnel to get home, which was the long way back. Frank was an ex paratrooper, but he was afraid of heights, so he wouldn't drive back over the QEII bridge at Dartford because it was too high!

Same here! That's why I spat my olives onto @Pedro's plate back in 2006. He seemed to enjoy them though!

They look like grapes that have gone off but taste like meat to me. I'm alone in this, everyone else I know loves the things.

Does this count as a photo from the cockpit you can see it i was just further back

I think it's more a case of them being annoying cunts, you'd fit in a treat working there

In this case I want pin sharp stars so used a more complicated method than is required All you need is any DSLR and a wide angle lens such as a Samyang 12mm f/2.8/Tokina 11-16mm etc a fast aperture is preferable as you need to gather as much light as you can in a fairly short period, the focal length determines the maximum exposure time you can get without having visible trailing stars, the 500 rule is most commonly used and that is that you divide 500 by the focal length of the lens (assuming it's a full frame camera) that will give the max duration the shutter should be open So for example on a Sony A7RII full frame camera with a 20mm lens the longest shutter speed would be 25 seconds, if you're using a crop sensor camera (APS-C/DX or Micro 4/3rds) you need to calculate the equivalent focal length first, i.e. a 20mm lens on an APS-C camera is actually 30mm equivalent as APS-C has a 1.5x crop factor, Micro 4/3rds has a 2x crop factor An ISO of 3200 is usually best but you can adjust this according to light gathering requirements, higher levels will introduce more noise and generally speaking smaller sensors are noisier than larger one's If noise is a major issue then you cane take multiple high ISO exposures and stack them in post production using a median blend mode (as the noise is random it will be smoothed out but leaving constants like the stars intact) But back to this shot It was taken with my Fujifilm X-T2 mounted on a Skywatcher Star Adventurer (star tracker) one 2 minute exposure for the stars and another of 8 minutes (with long exposure noise reduction switched on in camera) for the foreground, the two then composited together Typical settings for an APS-C camera would be ISO-3200, 25 sec, f/2.8 with a 12mm lens for a single shot

Everything in this small crossroads of a town was closed. All 4 restaurants were closed save one; a pizza and beer joint. Better than nuthin'......

on that basis your a snowflake .

I better get going before some bear comes outta the woods and mauls me...

Tried to leave Montana yesterday early, but it was too cold to leave at 6:00 AM. Left at 8:30 and it was still chilly. Had to stop a lot to my hands warm up. Leaves and foliage in the valleys have begun to turn yellow and red as Autumn starts....

There's a lot of industrial action going on at the DVLA at the moment and lots of expats here are inundating them with requests for Certificates of Conformity so that they can exchange their driving licences for French ones.

There was a certain inevitability about it. It seems that over-promising and under-delivering is a bit of a genetic trait here. Most people I've met here have been lovely, so I guess it's their desire to please that just blows up in their faces on many occasions. And hiding from the fall-out is the other trait.

Funny that......your neighbour says the same thing!

Yeah I saw, but not so much under the thumb as been busy with family life

@yen_powell, fucking prawns looking at you? what’s about olives that gets you? Food stuff? Vegans annoy me, not vegans per se, but those annoying cunts that think you’re Hitler for wanting a burger or use some chorizo to cook you peas . Scratch that, what gets to me is that they feel entitled to share their opinions I have nothing bothering me at the moment, except my own internal shit, my head and the way it deals with life is my main problem. I might be drinking too much, and am a little annoyed at the company I work with but don’t really let it bother me anymore.

James Hewitt now working as a Gardener!

Missus got her car back, but the rear light cluster hasn't been replaced and the passenger door mirror won't adjust properly now. And the dealer is ignoring her messages! She says that she's going to set one of her colleagues onto them later if she hears nothing back soon!

Wow Yen, you need to talk, mate!

We've been through that, Pete. A file of documents that had to be submitted and then a trip to Carcassonne to hand in passport style photos and have our fingerprints done. But we've got the cards now, so it's all good for the next 5 years.

There must be something happening to you at the moment that makes you shout FFS!! Get it off your chest here. You may get some sympathy and encouragement, but likely you'll just get called a cunt, however, you'll likely feel better whichever!

My biggest gripe at the moment is concerning the transfer of the private pension fund from my last employer. I've been retired for a year now and they're still fucking me about! First it was the pension administrators who took forever to respond to my Independent Financial Adviser and then put up as many obstacles as they could. Once we got around that they then said that they've passed it on to the pension trustees, who are ignoring everyone! I've even got my old manager at the company to put pressure on the payroll manager to get things sorted, but nothing! Fortunately I've got other private pensions that are paying out, so I'm not skint, but I'm fully expecting the chancellor of the exchequer to start looking at ways to get his hands on some of the money in private pensions soon and I'd rather get all the money transferred to my overseas fund than see a big chunk get grabbed by those bastards! Anyway, that's what's gripping my shit at the moment!

So you're all missing me eh well I'm back now so no need to fret

No he'd been gone a while before it occurred to me to search them for a proof photo. I suppose I could try our local archive place.

I used to know the council photographer until he retired, we competed for the single motorbike space in the work car park in my early days, but he had an Italian bike so was usually broken down on the way to work leaving me to park my CX500 there instead. One of the things he did for me was give me a log on i.d. for all the council photographs stored on our server in case I wanted to use them for any work purposes. I have looked so hard for a picture of her with that shovel but couldn't find one. If I could put the shovel with the picture..... Last I heard the photographer was enjoying his retirement by riding a horse on some prairie in Canada and he had a heart attack and was very lucky to survive it due to his remoteness when it struck.

What a cunt.

mixing concrete with the royal shovel...

Things Seen out of an office window:- For quite a few years (probably 89-95) I was based on the 2nd floor of a small mini town hall that faced on to Roman Road in east London. In those days we were allowed our own desk and I plonked mine right next to the window along with my drawing board and wheeled cabinet with all my pens, pencils, stencils, set squares, compasses, and all the other paraphernalia that a successful international draughtsman and man of mystery surrounds himself with. I also had a normal desk chair and best of all, a tall swivel chair which I could spin myself on till I felt sick, any time I wanted to. I have grabbed a GSV view of the building as it is now and put an arrow pointing at my window. They managed to get it clean after I moved out, although the carpet was a write off. (That tree wasn't there back then) Anyway, in between producing works of fine art and drinking tea I would occasionally gaze out of my window, usually until my boss would shout, 'Oi Motorhead, get on with your work you lazy twat.” I have been called Motorhead at work since 1986 when I turned up on my first day with long hair and a leather jacket knocking the potted plants over with my crash helmet. That scruffbag looks like Motorhead someone joked and it stuck. Variations were used such as, “Oi M. Head, Oi Motor, Oi Monsier Head, Oi Mr Head”, you get the idea….Gradually less and less people know me as that now, the older generation has retired, moved or popped their clogs, although at one time, our chief exec was going to allow me to have 'motor.head' as the first part of my work email address. The I.T. department nipped that in the bud. It still occasionally gets shouted across a noisy street by people old enough to remember. I saw many things out of my window, I will now list some:- 1/ Diana, Princess of Wales' underwear. She was visiting the building for some reason, the police had been in hours before she got there to look for bombs and assassins and our small car park at the rear was full of coppers on BMW K75s. We had been told that we could stand on the stairwell to see her as she went up them, but I wasn't a big royal fan so I decided to spin around on my tall chair whilst the governor was away. Anyway, a crowd had gathered and I heard a cheer and looked out of the window. A large black car pulled up and the rear passenger door was right under my window. Someone opened the door from the outside and first to emerge was a lady in waiting who gave a classic example of how a lady should get out of a car in a short skirt, nothing was put out there for general viewing. Then the Princess of Wales showed the incorrect way to get out. It was done that poorly I could read the labels. I'll say no more on the subject in case MI5 come for me. On a seperate note, a bloke came in just after another occasion when she was planting a tree in the borough. He had a lovely shiny shovel she had used for the photos and perhaps a gentle dab or two at the soil around the tree. He was in a rush to get to the reception and apparently thought turning up with a shovel would look uncouth. He asked me to put it in my locker for safe keeping. He then retired or rather was bullied out for various reasons and it is now in my garage with crusted bits of concrete on it when I used to to mix up a shed base. 2/ Bootsie, I often saw an old woman with snowy white hair and shoes with large flaps sticking out at the front of the toe and the back of the heel. She would rush along with these slapping at the pavement and sometimes local children would run along mocking her. I asked a lady working with us at the time what she thought they were. She laughed and said that they were the pieces you bought to resole shoes and that you were then supposed to trim the excess off which the old lady hadn't done. I saw her often, sometimes shouting at people, sometimes looking frightened and nervous. I found out years later she was well known locally as Bootsie and was a concentration camp survivor with mental issues. 3/ Reggie Kray. Ronnie Kray had died whilst incarcerated in Broadmoor Hospital and the cortege was leave from a small funeral directors in Bethnal Green Road. This leads onto Roman Road and the streets were heaving with people who wanted to watch it go by as Reggie was to be allowed to attend the funeral on day release from prison. There were more barriers put up along the foot ways than for the London Marathon, it was a very big deal locally. Colleagues in Bethnal Green had even lowered some evil shaped traffic calming measures for the hearse so the deceased wouldn't get bruised when it went over it. You could hear constant cries of “They loved their Mum”, or “They bought very pensioner a colour telly you know!”, or even, “They only mutilated and murdered their own, bless them, we wouldn't have no trouble now if they were about still carrying out their protection rackets and shooting people.” When the procession finally went past I saw the main car behind the hearse with the back windows down. It was proceeded and followed by the roughest looking bunch of ne'r do wells I have ever seen, I was glad I was up a few floors, they were even scary from a distance. Bald heads and sunglasses abounded, I recall one black man with dread locks all the way down the back of his knee length leather coat. We used to joke that if you went on a 2 week holiday then the borough would look different when you came back. A new road, or something demolished, or a new tower block etc. You could see Reggie Kray's face looking out the window at all the people and also at all the buildings. I got the impression he couldn't believe how much had changed since 1969, he looked a bit sad and lonely and of course, old, still recognisable though. I wasn't in the building for the second funeral when he passed away, but colleagues who were there said there was hardly anyone in the street to watch it pass by, it was suspected that they only came to the first one to see a live Kray pass by. 4/ The Moroccan murder attempts and my day in court as a witness. To be continued.

Not all motorcyclists base their enjoyment on doing high speeds though.