by Bill
This is a rag-bag collection of things culled from my contributions to newsgroups and other correspondence. Originally these items were all to be about the aerial trade, hence the title, but other stuff has crept in. Don’t take any of it too seriously; it’s all meant for amusement only. There are a few sweary bits by the way. |
Licensed
to drill
Quite a few years ago I went out into the
wilds to Merryfeather Hall. Apparently the old colonel had taken
to spending more time in bed—not surprising at 94—and
so I was to rig up a TV set and aerial for the main bedroom. I’d
been to the Hall before, years previously, but even so I had problems
finding it. I parked on the overgrown gravel drive and swung the
ponderous doorknob.
|
Parking
in W1
We arrived at Nicholas House, near
Oxford Street, W1, at 2pm, after a four-hour drive. There was absolutely
nowhere to park on the street, but we had been promised off-street
parking if the van would fit in the lift. These places have underground
car parks, with access via a vehicle lift. After about of hour of
getting security clearance, etc., we went round the back and tried
the van in the lift, and it fitted. |
tell
me more >>  |
tell
me more >> |
A
curious old TV
Do you remember the Trident Scheme?
It was designed to provide work experience for boys and girls in
the 15–16 year age group. Maybe the scheme still operates,
I don’t know. About five years ago I had a succession of ‘Tridents’,
including the one I have the fondest memories of, James. This lad
had a lot going for him. He was very good looking, with a lovely
personality, although rather quiet. |
Barry
Brady
No
one calls me Billy. I don’t like it, especially from spooky-sounding
voices on the phone. I was Billy in the Infants’ Dept., but
not since. Since the phone call took place forty years later,
in 1996, this had to be someone with a very long memory. But who
the hell was it? As the nerdy voice prattled on, realisation slowly
grew. Yes, this was a figure from childhood all right, a character
from the late 50s known to us kids as ‘one-lung Brady’,
for what reason I never knew. |
tell
me more >> |
tell
me more >> |
Daughters
– Who’d have ‘em?
I thought I'd call at Carolyn's for a quick cuppa on my way home,
since she lives 19 miles away and I don't see her enough. What
a mistake! As soon as she saw me she went into wheedle mode --
"Dad, will you do me a massive favour?" It turned out
that the VCR was faulty. Would I have a look? The VCR turned out
to be a Crown CRV2250. I hadn't seen it before. |
Mucky
stuff on t' stattelite
"Hello Bill, it's Harry. How's things?"
"Oh we're fine. How's your leg?"
"Killin' me mate, killin' me. I told that young woman doctor,
whatsername, they might as well chop it off an' give me a wooden
'un if it's going to be like this."
"Are you taking pain killers?"
|
tell
me more >> |
tell
me more >> |
The
CAI Trade Show 2004
The
CAI trade show was held at the National Agricultural Centre at
Stoneleigh, near Kenilworth, this week. It’s a brilliant
venue. Much better than the ghastly hotel at Heathrow that they
used to use. That place was right down in the bottom corner of
the country – hardly convenient for most of us. Parking
was always difficult and the traffic on the way in and out was
appalling. |
The
Dance of the Wheeliebin
Well, I got myself into a right pickle tonight! We have a wheeliebin,
you know, a big dustbin that you have to push to the front gate
the night before the bin men come. Now the trouble is this wheeliething
isn't big enough for all our rubbish. I can't take stuff to
the dumpit because of the fascist discrimination against van
drivers, and in any case I'm banned for life after I made a
stand (I'm banned from Asda and the Royal Oak as well for making
a stand; jobsworths don't like it when you make a stand) so
we really have to cram as much into the wheelie as we can. Now
you might laugh, but what I do is climb into the bin and jump
up and down on the rubbish. |
tell
me more >> |
tell
me more >> |
The
first cowboy aerial rigger
What
actually happened was, this Italian bloke rung up – well
he had an Italian name but he sounded Irish on the phone and as
me xenophobia was quite bad at the time I wouldn't have gone out
to him if I hadn’t been a bit short of work – anyway
he said he'd got a scheme for sending Morse code across to America
without using the telegraph cable. I said “What yer gonna
do, write the dots and dashes down and post them?” which
I thought was quite witty but he didn’t laugh. Dead snooty
some people. Anyway I thought oh bloody 'ell another nutter, never
mind, as long as he pays.
|
The
Happy Moron
I
was high up in a tree, standing in a fork but also secure in a
safety harness. It's always best to be above the branch that you
are cutting through. Although I felt perfectly safe and I was
doing everything by the book, I was aware of the potential danger.
The thing is, when the chainsaw rips through a big branch the
situation has an element of unpredictability. The wood you're
cutting off can weigh as much as a car and no matter how careful
you are it might not fall exactly as you plan. Likewise, the tree
that you're standing on can react in unexpected ways to the sudden
removal of the burden. So the instant when the branch starts to
go is a moment to savour, if you like excitement.
|
tell
me more >> |
tell
me more >> |
The
Megajoint
Today
I went to a big new house, very posh in a tasteless sort of way.
The man of the house was a local businessman and local football
magnate, pompous and full of his own self-importance. The woman
was gormless and seemed to think that being married to a rich
man gave her class. The teenagers were appallingly rude. The complaint
about the TV reception was ‘poor Freeview in the maaarster
bedroom’. In Yorkshire you can always tell people who are
putting it on. Just ask them to say ‘master’ or ‘headmaster’.
Whether they would admit to maaarsterbation I don’t know.
|
We have no cats
This isn’t about aerials; it’s about cats just for a change. If you only like aerials, sorry . . .
|
tell
me more >> |
tell me more >> |
A severe fright in Hemel
Hempstead
Late one evening about 25 years ago I set off from central London to drive the 170 miles home. I'd just completed a gruelling few days’ work...
| An extreme daisychain
Looping the aerial signal though one ancillary device is fair enough, as long as the output channel of the device is chosen with care. |
tell me more >> |
tell me more >> |
An unusual aerial location
I called at a terraced house that had recently been ‘done up’ by a spec builder and sold to a young couple.
|
LNB problems
Paul came with me today to a job about fifty miles from home. On the way he was telling me about his analyser, which had a faulty battery. |
tell me more >> |
tell me more >> |
The man who reinvented the
squarial
OK, that's a squarial. It's just a flat panel SHF aerial. Under the plastic cover is a large number of tiny dipoles and a complex arrangement of waveguides.
| Trip to London
In 1967 I passed my driving test and it wasn't long before I conceived an ambitious plan. I was just at the start of that developmental stage where you come out of the teenage dream |
tell me more >> |
tell me more >> |
Working With Cowboys
Years ago I managed to get some work installing aerials for a firm that sold private mobile radio equipment – two-way radios for lorry drivers and taxi firms, in other words. I soon found out that I’d made a mistake getting involved with this firm, because they were a set of total tossers. Actually they were a total nightmare... |
Exaggeration
Early last year we installed a TV distribution system in a very large private house. The house is absolutely beautiful. It's set on a hillside and when you come into the valley it looks fabulous. I love that house. It's brilliantly designed to sit on the hillside just below the trees and it has a sort of modern perfection that is rarely seen. It is all, as Kenny Everett used to say, 'in the best possible taste'... |
| tell me more >> |
tell me more >> |
Print
this page
