Broken cycle daymare (words)

Seventy two hours with a drill bit through my skull
they want a bolt passed up through my brain
It creates a hole of a semi-solid genius-
grey matter'd spill out my holy treasured grail
Battered a head, squeezed all around
they look to sell it cheap around a London town
Three whole days-been tired- I feel stoned.
Now I need some flickin' sound sleep !

Eight O Clock is my brain surgery
Now they look to lick up my cerebrum
Every sound I hear is shaking up my nerves
Every thought I fought - a mistake
My eyes feel like in a shut Iron Maiden
They dont see why they wanna see again
(Are you 'born again'?)

Asleep: It wouldn't want to wake up
Now a corpse: it just wants to break up
The day, ten days since it's known
Tonight, I fight in my own "fright night"
Now you want to put your heads together
try figure what I try to say
wicked seeing all your skulls come together
bone crunching a thought a-comes my way
my ears feel tortured by my mortal pig's moan
and when my eyes feel bullets in their holes
It is time to behead myself ,
Just to be ahead for the future.

Calling monkey (words)

Be what you want to be against that which you are.
Eat your chicken if you want to be a man.
You hate but see that reptile crawling on your wall.
While running along to the sea to fall.

Wall all fall, stand up tall.
Wall all fall, trying not to crawl.

Try my pipes Ive even left you cheese
Thirty stories of fun in pee vee see
No bad weather will come to you there
In exchange some spew and waste foods fair

Oh do you know the thrill of competition?
It turns me on I feel empty no more

Ch:
Extermination of the pesticide
Come on monkey, let me have your mind
Degradation, only classified
I own your mindlessness, serve my kind

Run this rodent race and devolve
Dont you be forgotten left behind
This is what your papa didnt do
If he knew back then he might have tried it too

Wall all fall, stand up tall
Wall all fall, trying not to crawl

Ch:

The Yeovilton rush

(recommended sonic ambience: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ertt3o1x65c )

7th April 2012:

On this day, I finally made my first visit to the biggest Naval aircraft museum in the UK - taking advantage of the 'long' easter weekend. While this visit was about my going there having my mind do some bigtime drooling looking at designs of yesteryear standing dead in front of me - this write-up is not intended at showing-off my superficial, infinitesimal and deeply shallow understanding of complicated aircraft design or to emptily spew specification statistics of beauties that I have never gotten to know nor converse with. It is about my experiences in the day trip in general.

I woke at 7:50 am after a bit of the early morning rebellion and duelling with my lazy self who usually conspires with my duvet.
The morning was dull, cloudy and quite unlike yesterday: which on the other hand looked bright, inviting and fly-able. The bathroom was laid open from an ongoing repair continued from yesterday as a challenge to easy flowing usability. It was 8:10 am when I got out of bed after requesting the Gods for another awesome day and checking train timings using their gift to mankind called Google (with an 'e' for Evil).

While I was definitely not going to make 8:23 am, the next one was 9:23 which I wanted to make 'do-or-die'......the reasons being that while the museum ticket was going to cost me 15 odd quid according to the initial information that I had gathered off the internet; the closing time of the museum supposedly was at 5:30 pm.

Additionally, 'the plan' - (of the "MY" kind) was made in 5 minutes and it included my push-biking my way to Yeovilton from Yeovil - a town which is down south from Bristol and into the proper South-West country of Somerset and is the nearest train station from there. Googlemaps showed me the distance to be 7 miles.

(Now for those of us who are experienced with trusting that information know that it is usually accurate for the "ideal" route-knowing and GPS carrying driver - NOT ME! - atleast, not yet.)

So there wasn't time for a shower anyway after 'the intestinal ritual', the brushing, the shave (needed one) and the face wash. I threw on my clothes awaiting 'recycling' prior to a wash - after making sure that they atleast appeared respectable when I wore them and I set off (with bicycle).

Destination: Filton Abbeywood train station.

Estimated Time: 10 minutes (from previous experience)

Never before today had I travelled by train with my bicycle for company. I managed to reach the station 13 minutes in advance. Since I had not pre-booked my journey, I bought the tickets off the machine. The journey and return cost me 15 odd quid (again).

I boarded the middle one of a 3 coach train when it arrived. I however was forced to stand by the doors supporting my bicycle which was pressed up against a side wall which bore the entrance to the aisle on side of this coach. I had not done this before and stood there with an unsure feeling. The four people did take their tuns at giving me puzzled looks which I consciously returned with a smile - burning a mild feeling of guilt for not having properly research the booking of a coach space for bicycles on a train (it is a free courtesy in this country). But soon the TTE arrived and adviced me that the bike must move behind the engine compartment when the train shall come to a halt at the Temple Meads station (which is the next station). I exited the current coach and wheeled the bike up to the engine coach, knocked on the engine driver's door and enquired about the best place to put the bike - to which he replied that it was right behing in the very same coach. I then noticed the familiar sign of the bicycle at the coach's doors. I also noticed that there were several coaches in front of the engine coach yet on the same railway line - meaning that this 'train' was going to join up to become a much longer one (with the effective drive power/engine movine to another coach much further ahead). I then boarded my 'new' coach - which was pretty much like the old one, except that it has lengthwise facing seats along one aisle and placed against the walls. One side bore the symbol of a wheelchait, whereas the opposite side bore that familiar sign of a bicycle. So basically it was three seats with loads of 'leg room' in front to leave bicycles or a wheelchair leaned up against seated travellers. The seats next to me were naturally empty. So I decided to place my haversack on the one by and pretend it is a good, adventurous, travelling friend that Ive seldom found. I had passed Keynsham and Bath and the sceneries on the outside were starting to get truly beautiful, the weather had improved and sunshine was smiling - looking me in the eye, a baby was crying in the compartment and an old couple in sight were starting to make an irritated face. But the latter bits were filtered away whilst positive energy of the freshness of the morning south-western entered my aura. And like a pleasant song in a bollywood movie from the sixties, the background on the outside changed to hilly open fields with the occasional distant house, little rivers flowing, spring trees still short of leaves but the occasional butterfly flying by and a farm with Lamas! I needed beautiful music for the sync, and I had three albums that were newly loaded to my phone's playlist. Animal Boy by the Ramones was only semi-loaded for some reason and my charge was being opposed unfairly by the music and thus I decided to move over the album in under five minutes and I had The Clash's London Calling on and I was laughing in inexplicable joy - not caring what everybody around was thinking upon hearing the lyrics sung to a naughtily strummed rhythm of Spanish Bombs - which for some unknown was the first song I played off it. It was just perfect. It was reflective of the contrast between awesome positivity coming in from nature outside of the moving train and the many others inside the train who I figured werent feeling it and seemed unconsciously satisfied with their miserable worries.

But again, in all fairness it is inappropriate of me to judge. After all, I was the only person that I knew on the day who for a sure fact had entered the train with "fun" planned for the day - who's to say that I am the same on every other day?               

          Thats what the bike/wheelchair coach seating looked like when I embarked upon the 'bike coach'

So it was Trowbridge, Westbury, Frome, Bruton, Wincanton, Yeovil Pen Mill as I counted down. Now There were two stations at Yeovil and since I was headed down South from Bristol while Yeovilton was to the North of Yeovil, I figured that the first stop might in principle be closer to Yeovilton - which was my real destination for the day.

So I disembarked at Yeovil Pen Mill to be greeted only by a flank of a breeze of desertedness which urged me to find my way into the open and be back on my own wheels as quickly as possible. So as I pushed my way out through doors I noticed a stand with free maps and free tour-guide booklets. I stopped and whizzed through, but queerly - there was nothing that referred to an Aircraft Museum - or Yeovilton. Although I did notice advertisements of a nature park at Yeovil (which was new to me) with pretty pictures of fauna. 
I shoved myself forward in favour of fulfilling my mission for the day by shouting "ii kara" to myself numerous times in my head.
I was now just outside of the station premises where I was greeted by a narrow road with traffic flowing in both directions and a signal right where I was standing. There was no board that indicated anything related to Yeovilton (directly). So the logical decision was to wait for the cyclist who I noticed was riding towards me from the station. I excused myself and spoke to the man of my intentions. He said to me that the road was easier from the Town centre (which was the other station at Yeovil) and said he was headed in the direction. I asked if I could follow him and he was happy to help. He asked me where I was from and I happily told him that I was here from Bristol as I wanted to visit the Fleet Air Arm museum of HM Royal Navy and thus use this day of my Bank Holiday weekend well. We spoke as we rode through a narrow path which ran through what seemed like a tree covered hill blaring on one side with scrubs and trees growing parallel to the plain of road i.e. from the steep side of the hill and a heavy slope leading to a pit on the other side. We were away from cars and were surrounded by what seemed like a jungle all of a sudden. Little berries were fallen in the middle of the road and they seemed to have fallen from branches of a tree which were reaching out above us. Squirrels were running across picking on what looked like food to them and scratching about in general. The hares seemed bold enough not to run like the wind at sight of human life, although I'll bet they have grown experienced enough to have a fair estimate of 'safe distance'. I only saw one colourful and slightly unusual looking bird there though - and we rode right past her. And surprisingly soon, it seemed we were at civilisation when I saw steel barrier railings to only allow people and bicycles. And the friendly bloke goes "We're at town centre and you want to go down 'blah blah' road which is down that (pointed) direction and a right turn from the roundabout". I thanked him for his courtesy, he wished me all the best and I was on my way. I admit I did quite catch on that guidance which he provided me with as the names were unfamiliar and interpretations of pronounciations can be devious. His accent was different than Bristolian - which I am fairly accustomed to now.
The catch: I heard him say "Oldchester road". And thats what I was looking for as I rode past the Town Centre - smelling of aromas of Croissants from the bakeries in good business, frying hot-dogs and the myriad spring flowers from stalls on the road. The town centre was bustling with weekend shoppers, children and street artists. The general architechture had an olden day vibe, like a place with a real historical heritage.
It was overall a good vibe. I told myself that I must come back sometime with the objective of feeling Yeovil.

(to be continued)

First day gliding

(recommended sonic ambience: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SINl5JY7LhI)

Saturday, 21st January 2012:
Well this is not about my first day gliding. However it is about my first day at a new (different) gliding club while still a beginner with discontinued, near-zilch experience.
Having just come back from my very amazing (to myself that is) second flight at the Nymphsfield airfield on a day of good thermals, quite a bit of wave, my increased feel of the aircraft and a very "exciting" landing - I feel it is worth telling you about my set of experiences on my first day at the club at this airfield last week-end.

On a clear yet cold morning (8.30 am) I was picked up by my colleague who agreed to take me along with him to his gliding club in his car. I knew very little of actual gliding and my colleague was my 'Senpai'.
After I had entered his car and we were done with the "Bonjour"s; my friend's first comment was about my clothing - which he felt was inadequate for the cold. Airfields are vast open spaces of land with wind freely blowing across. It was only more than reasonable a comment given that we are in the middle of winter, though a 'warm' one in comparison with the last two winters.
After one stop at a Tesco to purchase food (which in my case was croissants and an IRN BRU) we drove to the club with my friend talking me through the weather forecast for the day. He patiently explained to me that that the lift available to the glider may be marginal at the airfield because the wind wasnt blowing strong enough into the airfield and in a direction such that the natural orientation of the airfield tends to favour despite the day being of "good weather - sunny with clear blue sky" to those who didn't care.

So when we got out the car, we started walking towards the club office as my friend showed me the canteen from the outside and also said of the availability of a kitchen at the club for self-service. We then entered the main 'hall' of the club office adjoining which were a little kitchen and a briefing room. the 'hall' was mostly occupied by two rectangular tables lined in series continuity with chairs lined all around except 'width-side' which adjoined a wall. My friend then introduced me to people seated there - most of who were elderly and they all greeted me with a smile and their own names in exchange for mine......although, they allall seemed to use a wee bit of an effort grasping my India-made name. I thought they were all quite friendly.

After leaving my bag along with the others, I followed my friend towards a hangar which was seen to be open. Outside the hangar was a glider - resting on the nearly cut grass. It was about to be D.I.-d. D.I. is abbreviation for Daily Inspection or alternatively interpreted by some as Direct Inspection. The C.B.S.I.F.T., C.B.E. (Google it or ask me when we talk) was carried out and was explained to me by a kind member who was a part of it. Now the main controls in this glider were a 2-axis moving stick (much like a joystick) and a pair of pedals (not including air-brakes). I had the honour of being a part of it by helping by moving the control stick and pedals as I was asked to. This was done to ensure than there was no jam-interference with the motion of control surfaces. However an interference was found to be occurring between the elevator and the rudder of this aircraft and thus it did not pass the D.I. for the day as it would be unsafe to fly it as it was.

Now an aircraft flies based upon the pressure of air which is built under it. It is not to different from a boat floating the surface of a water. Air is of much lower density. Thus aircraft are different in conception. Imagine Fish Tank full of water. In order for a body to float on it, it must be lighter than the up-thrust pressure exerted by the water as result of its tendency to assert itself within the volume of the fish tank as a result of gravity. Now imagine yourself to be in this boat. The boat will Tend to tip to one side in you, being the only person in it moved over to that side. Similar is an aircraft. It is different however as it is more of a "sub-marine" than a boat - as it does not float on the surface but within the 'water'.......i.e. air - also a fluid but a less dense one.
While on a boat, assuming you were at the centre - should you move to a side, the boat will Tend to tip because of your having changed the distribution of forces on the boat to be such...........i.e. the forces are no longer symmetrically distributed. The working of aircraft controls is based upon the same principle. the redistribution of forces is however carried out by moving of "control surfaces" which will vary the area impacted by the forces. In an aircraft, basic controls are Ailerons - controlling the side-to-side or 'roll' motion of the aircraft; Elevators - controlling the nose up-nose down motion i.e. 'pitch attitude' of the aircraft with respect to the horizon and a Rudder - to control the directional turning or 'yaw' of an aircraft. So again, the Ailerons with respect to gliders are almost always present on the wings, Elevators - on the tail-wing/Horizontal tail-plane and the Rudder - on the Fin/vertical tail plane as in the case of boats (if this para was a misadventure with respect to getting through to you, google it or ask me when we speak - but this is how conventional fixed wing aircraft of popular current production "fly" on a basic level).


Aileron roll - observe the wings (courtesy WikiPedia)

 

Elevator pitch - observe the Tail wing (courtesy WikiPedia)

 

Rudder yaw - observe the Tail Fin (courtesy WikiPedia)

So we went back to the hangar which had its shutters open and 'pulled out' another glider and D.I.-d it.
It passed the D.I. But the exciting bit for me was that I actively helped with 'pulling it out'.
Pulling out a glider is usually done by atleast two people actively in contact with the aircraft. One being at the nose and the other at a wing tip. One at the nose is responsible for Pulling the aircraft forward while the one at the wing tip will steer it directionally by using the usually long wing as a moment arm. It is usually recommended that the steering be done only from one wing while the other wing is left free. Interestingly, this wing also had snap-fit winglets.........distinctly resembling the 737NG blended winglets or their A320 equivalent which are by no means a nearly easy job fitting I can tell you.

One thing while I did the DI......My fingertips were cold. The gloves I had on were epic fail.
It was a day of clear sky.........and frost. The remperature was negative 2 and there was windchill which eroded away temperature from the body at God-knows what rate. But the next step was me witnessing the aircraft being towed away to the launch point. The launch point was situated such that it is as much ito the wind as possible while being in line with the length of the airfield. The towing of the aircraft was done by affixing a hook to the fore of the aircraft, underneath the nose to a vehicle (Land Rover in this case) with a driver trained for the job. A man stands by at the wingtip to steer the aircraft. While I walked this distance, I was briefed again about Daily Inspection and the procedure to tow a glider. While I walked, I realised that Ice had formed on the fore surface of my 'work disguise' Nikes.....which was inadequate to wear on an airfield at this time of the year according my friend and I was only just starting to see his point in this regard, following the failure of my gloves which I was attempting to damage-control by blanketing my gloved hands with the pockets of my jacket.

We then reached the launch point where I noticed a but which appeared to be converted to an office or 'shelter' place parked at a side. I was then introduced to my instructor who was communicating over a radio which was located in the bus. I then gathered that he was communicating with the winch operator.
Now most gliders lack a launchable engine. They rely on an external means of initial power i.e. in order to be 'thrown into the air. Once airbourne, they 'fly' by Gliding into Lift-Favouring regions of air. Two most common ways of launching glider aircraft are by using a Winch or by Aero-tow. While a Winch-launch by is a "cable"/rope attached to the fore of a glider being pulled by a firm and secure motor of heavy-duty engineering; Aero-tow launch is by towing of a glider into air, to a desired altitude by an aircraft linked to it by an attached cable. And I witnessed my first winch launch - which was the launch of a two-seat glider. While I watched and attempted filming with my super-wimped-out fail of a phone camera, my instructor turned to me and started making conversation. He asked me if I was familiar with flight and how it worked, what I did for a living etc. And he explained to me why the lift wasnt going to be reasonable on the day despite being the bright and sunny looking cold day that it was. I didnt quite follow his explanation as I am very unfamiliar with meteorology and havent found the flow as of yet to synchronize with my book on meteorology for a pilot which I had purchased out of interest a few months ago. He then said to me that since I was here for a first time and on "trial membership", I would be launched by Aero-tow and he would be my instructor for the day. I then noticed a glider land quite smoothly outside the bus almost from the same spot it launched from. It was the same glider which had just taken off and it had only been five minutes since the take off. And that is what a "no lift" day of still air did. However had it only had a reasonable engine, the engine would have caused enough turbulence in the surrounding air to create a reasonable lifting pressure under the wings. It is Analogous to attempting sailing on a day of still air in a still water.

My friend then came to me and asked if I wanted to go along with him. I followed him not knowing where we were headed. He motioned me to a golf cart with the member who was explaining to me the towing of a glider while I was walking along, behind the wheel. So my friend stood at the back of it while I was asked to sit beside the driver. We then drove to another end of the airfield with more hangars. The hangar area of interest was opened by removing large door-plates which were bolted. The gliders lay in rest inside. It struck me to get a snippet with my not-so-nice phone camera at this point (below).  

The glider was then attached to a hook on the back of this (quite powerfully engined) cart by means of a link-rod. Both wings of the glider were held hoisted in place by a 'bangle-slide-in' dolly with rugged wheels to enable the towing of a glider without a man at a wing. This ofcourse mandated that the driver be extra careful. So we rode back as we chatted about the relevant and the irrelevant. Boy have I never ridden the back of a golf-cart standing and in an open field before. It was awesome. Wind blowing to the face. The legs were warm from the engine while the face was feeling erosion of temperature. I tried clicking pictures, most of which were horrible and nearly dropped my phone once while trying. The reflex was an OOPS, which made the driver stop and he asked if everything was okay.....but my half-embarassed encouraging (to him) words of apology were sufficient for him to continue with a "Dude, we're cool man. Relax!".
Close to the launch point, my friend and myself disembarked and helped position the glider to be lauched.
The D.I. was then carried out and it was found to be fit. I then witnessed an aero-tow launch with the tug aircraft being a powerfully engined aircraft designed for crop-dusting. I then got into the bus and requested the man at the radio to be allowed to sit at the back of the bus as my feet were freezing, for which I received an encouraging response. I was grateful.

                                                   Back of a golf cart (the glider is a Grob)

                                                   Piper Pawnee -  the Tug aircraft

I alternated between the inside and the outside of the van at intervals at each moment that I felt the missing-in- action complex. Inside the van, I had spent my time by removing my socks and placing my feet on the seat for comfort and re-circulation of blood.
While my friend's single seat glider was getting ready for action, I followed the driver of the golf cart upon his encouragement into the land rover in order to pick up parachutes and batteries for the glider's radio units - back into the club office area. When we returned, I knew of the number of parachutes and how they were checked for usability. When I got back, I returned to the bus and my instructor said to me that he would fly me next. I spent the minutes between, trying to video the launch of my friend despite poor quality.
Most of it was from within the bus as my toes were still uncomfortably cold. Incase you're still curious about a winch launch - the following is what it approximately looks like. However the camera view of this video (courtesy: youtube) is epic. It seems like some body found a way to affix a camera to the wing of a K-21 glider. And it is interesting that it is a K-21 as I received instruction on a K-21 on the day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v2Qh95I_YM0

So finally my Instructor came back to me and said we were ready to fly. He then asked again of the whereabouts that I came from at India and said that he had spent about a year of his life as a hippie at India and had probably seen more of India than I had. I only had to agree as there is much of India that I havent actually seen. He also knew quite a few words and sentences in Hindi it turned out. So he tried telling me that while the aero-tow would tow me up to 2000 feet, we would most likely glide down from there and the lesson would comprise what could be accomodated within that - being a day of still air - and the time would be limited by it. However if I wanted more time, I'd have to be towed up to higher altitude and would require me to give the pilot "bakshish" of 10 quid (which was ofcourse intended as joke) but either ways I wasnt upto paying that much more. So he buckled me in with instruction of how to handle myself within the glider and what should be done in the eventuality that the aircraft may have to be ditched mid-air (a scary thought!). I would be allowed to control the aircraft after the altitude has been attained, the tug has been released, the aircraft satisfactorily stabilised and preliminary control instruction given. I was not allowed to use my camera whilst in flight as it posed a danger of falling into the aircraft and jamming controls.
The following video (courtesy Youtube) is Aero-tow launch using a Piper Pawnee aircraft:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FWlg3r90k4

So as the tug started to exert forward force on the aircraft, I felt locked in a box which was being dragged forward by a child pulling a connected leash for the first 3 seconds, but it soon stabilised so that the aircraft was moving in forward in a straight line. I could still feel the effect of little bump loads transferred from the landing gear wheels. Before I knew it, i was starting to face upwards with increasing angle while my guts were moving downwards...........and I was airbourne! As I rose, I could see the airfield below me - and a couple of birds too. I could see the beauty of this side of England. And is she beautiful! -blah blah- (and what everybody else will tell you will follow so I wont bore you with that)

So the instructor said I must keep lookout for other aircraft in sight for safety reasons and report to him the angle in clock-terms and in high, low or in-level. For example, if I saw a glider at about 45 degrees to my right and above me, I'd say "Glider high at 3 o'clock" or along the lines.
The reason for alertness is in order to be able to actively avoid collision related accidents.

He then demonstrated to me the application of roll and yaw controls and asked me to follow them through with him. Now usually in 2 seat instruction gliders, the instructor sits at the back while the student is at the front and the controls are all connected in duplication. This means that if the instructor moved a control stick, it is linked such that the student's stick would move too. The control stick, which looks not too different from a joystick worls for Pitch when moved forward and backward and roll when moved side-to-side. The rudders are controlled by alternating push-pedals.
After he had demonstrated each control, he said that I must control the aircraft by myself for a while in order to get some feel. The controls hand-over is customariy done by the instructor saying, "You have control" to which the student is expected to respond with a nice and friendly "I have control" before the take over. If at any point the student isnt confident, the student will hand-over saying, "You have control"...whereas when the instructor would like to take back control, he would initiate by saying, "I have control".

And I was only happy to control. The important thing with pitch was to be able to hold the aircraft at a certain attitude, which is only determined my looking straight out at the horizon. A repeated wisdom from instructors is "Everything you need is in front of you." I was happy for he said that I was doing well during the lesson. He however said that when the aircraft was being rolled simultaneously in attempt to turn it, my pitch-pull got heavy handed. I was still happy, I was feeling it and I had learnt something for real on the day.

But it had to end as we were only bound to......gravity! :-( We were down in 13 minutes with smooth landing. While landing, airbrakes are deployed in order to both slow down and level the aircraft. It was quite smooth and the only thing I felt was the impact of first touchdown. I found out that it had lasted only 13 minutes and I was naturally only craving for more........but I left it for another day (today?). 

a little down about coming down

And I spent the rest of the afternoon discovering the very interesting collection of books at the office, sipping a hot cup of tea and eating what little was left of my food whilst waiting for my friend. I then helped out tuck the gliders away as and when a hand was needed. I then drove back as the sun staring to set, reminiscing this very awesome Saturday, with a big thanks to my friend and resolve to learn to fly solo- very well that too!Someday.......in reality.....yet as good as my (fictitious) heroes Luke Skywalker and the Swat Kats.

Over the rainbow - from my actual first and awesome Glider flight at the BlackMountains gliding club

2011: Best year since I became an adult !

(recommended sonic ambience: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4x23l6BGu3w )

When this Robot turned 18 (called "adult" in India) it started pursuing its educational degree studies.
Most of it all did not compute.
It caused multiple malfunctions and machine complexes which the Robot had to weather.
But Hey! The Universal engineer has designed this one to be robust and regenerating.

2009-2010 was a big step in my intended direction in terms of pursuing a career of choice.
However, after the toil - the good finally started showing. After having lived as a student wishing to experience the wider world outside of my small University campus in England; and a long empty wait beyond which extended well into 2011 the Force has showered upon me more than just that.

While I was a student, I did not have a part-time job as I was slow and lagging and had to put in hard work.
Thus I kept myself as minimal as possible and did not spend more than on my daily meals, one bass guitar and practice amplifier off a pawnshop and one concert which I did to save myself from unthinkable side-effects of a troubled mind. But that was all 2010.
 While the course was finished my explorations were mostly of local culture in two nearby towns which were the only "civilizations" within reach......apart from that I would look at the clear country sky (on few days when nature forgot how its 'supposed to' treat "England".), spend time fantasizing about aircraft concepts and watch cartoons of superheroes from my childhood. I re-learnt that the only way to combat emptiness and negativity was by injecting positivity. This sometimes worked by distracting the mind by taking it into a state of conscious illusion which was always rooted in sober and healthy thoughts, Meditation and SLEEP - on focused positive thoughts. It was during this phase that I discovered my taste for Anime - Subbed Only!
While I was a fan of a few Japanese cartoon series such as Ninja Robots, Force 5 etc. as a child - they all spoke "American English" and were repackaged to be sold as American.........so my 'conversion' to the actual thing (Japanese) was only justly done by two American superhero cartoon series which were re-packaged to be Japanese. And somehow, I found that to be "psycho/Saikou"!
While some years ago I found that I had disliked Naruto after watching a couple of one offs on ANIMAX - my opinion changed poles in April 2011 and I now think that the episodes which resulted in my original opinion may have been caused by filler episodes which were results of Mr. Kishimoto's being subject to writer's block. I have since also become an avid fan of manga and have since started following Bleach, Cowboy Bebop and several others. I was back at India at this point in time.

So while I was still in the "phase" but after having returned to England, I was happy to inject more positivity in myself by attending an an airshow of "LEGEN-DARY" proportions called "Flying legends" at RAF Duxford - which I did at a 'student rate' despite having surrendered my ID-card months before! After all, I still had a little bit left to scroonge back from what I had saved up working as a research assistant in 2010.
While it was orgasmic to see roaring pistons of yesteryear simulate dogfights like a (WorldWar) dream - the first cross off my bucket list was the visit to the Aeronautical museums at RAF Duxford - which my teachers at University had always highly recommended.
So that was a real drivel of a day when I saw beautiful birds (GILFs heehee) of all sizes and specs such as a Flying Fortress, a Blackbird and a Vulcan from up close on the military side; I saw retired beauties such as the Trident, Comet and the Concorde while P-51s, Spitfires and Hurricanes seemed to be begging to come out from retirement from the thunderous roars outside.

And one day when the light shone through, I got offered a job at Bristol on site of one of the biggest manufacturers of civilian aircraft in the world. I now work in an area of my interest in an organization which I had only dreamt of when I was younger. I am still paddling in an effort to learn this trade well. While my mentors have been kind so far and my boss is encouraging in my struggle towards being able to work independently. For the first time in my life, I have been feeling truly happy about my job as it is in line with the heart. Also, I have my own desk in a cubicle, my own name-board, a computer and a phone allocated to me and a feeling of professional respect.

I had to move into a house inhabited by other working professionals. Along with the room which I am now (still) living at, I had inherited a bicycle belonging to the previous occupant....which I have written about in a previous blog. And thus I now happily use the bicycle as my main mode of transportation - as apparently does my boss where I work currently.
While the bicycle which came with my room was an old one with several worn out parts, I have obtained a brand new bicycle thanks to the encouragement provided to cyclists in this part of the country by the government by running 'cyclescheme'.

I have started Karate all over again, from the scratch - well over a decade after I quit.

After having lived at home while I was at India where mom would put up with my whims and at a hostel room which was decently catered in terms of food, cleaning and other basics - my move to this new rented/shared accomodation at Bristol has since been teaching me to get along with people who are different than myself. Yes we're all Indians here. But for the very few who have had the honour (?) of knowing me, I have always seen myself as an observer from a different world wherever I have been and my sense of logic has seldom concurred with YOU lot. Yet, I am now happy to admit that I have been able to find a way to adjust with and acceptably live with other people. Although I have always been a fan of food and cooking, in the past I would only do the occasional one off 'recipe' dish when the flair arose. While the resultant food had a 'reasonable' taste - the collateral damage used to be a mess of a kitchen 100% of time.......one which I used to be lazy and shy to clean. I now cook atleast thrice in a week. During week/work days - each member of the house cooks for everybody on a rota basis. Domestic rules mandate the re-stacking of all previously washed utensils when a member cooks, washing of ones own utensils when done and leaving the kitchen and every place in the house as one would expect to find it.
It was only logical for me to see the importance of symbiosis here. Thanks to a housemate, I can now confidently make Chappatis and cook proper Indian food - which is still a rising learning curve for me. I live in a self-sustained and habitable home because of the enforcement of set domestic rules by my 'everyday' housemates. Sincerely, hats off to them - I respect them for who they are, while still preferring my daily dose of Anime alone in my room over dinner over a Bollywood movie which they may watch on TV at the time in the living room each day. A key to getting along when you're afraid you may not lies in the 'Tobi (shippuden) approach'. ;-)

Bristol is a little city with a real long heritage unlike the places where I had previously lived in England.
It is comfortably paced yet industrially active. It is almost the Aerospace capital of the UK yet is quite low on pollution and pleasant to breathe in. When I first came here it was the start of Autumn and I was mortally scared when I learnt that Bristol had the most wasps in the southern part of England. However, I was surprised to find that the wasps and bees kept to their own plants rather than buzzing around unreasonably even on the sunniest and warmest day that I have seen here. Even the coldest day this winter (my first here) has not been intolerable so far. Infact I have only recently cycled 15 miles on a Frosty night with wind-chill leading well into negatives to a nearby town in order to watch a brass band wearing only moderate clothing for the temperature range. The sky is dreamy.......THEY must be landing too somewhere nearby.......
The people here are generally nice and polite while the culture is cosmopolitan and welcoming. I would go to City Centre on a week-end without a specific plan with the smallest excuse to buy a certain everyday item as an excuse to sip a cold coffee by the harbourside and observe boats dock and leave, stand and watch street musicians play their instruments beautifully or walk into the museum to learn a little more about the world which I live in. I have been walking into musical instrument shops to try loads of cool gear to my taste.
Having always had an affinity for proper italian food over others for some reason, I would occasionally get a take-away from a little family-run italian food place......quite different when I was at India as my pockets were too light for them there - due to proper italian food being perceived as a novelty there.
There are well laid cycle paths all over and people generally tend to respect traffic rules well. I have now learnt to do so too. After all, I hadn't been on the road by myself in this country before I'd moved here.
I am finally living in a city which I perfectly love for the first time in my life. I heart this city.

I cycled 30 miles to and back from Bath................a significant town of Roman heritage near here.
This is the first ever that I have cycled such a distance between a city and a major town. And guess what? It happened in 2011.

As J.D. Anderson has noted, in order to design an aircraft - one must have sufficient flying experience to know well how an 'aircraft concept' will behave given an intended lift. In agreement with him I wished to learn to fly both unpowered and powered. Taking advantage of an advert put up by a colleague in a kitchen in my then office, I went gliding for the first time in my life. An addictive experience unlike any other that I have known. Also, the glider at my club is Aerotow launched i.e. an aircraft to which the glider is tied by a rope would tow the glider into the air and let it go when the glider has obtained enough lift to sustain itself. This too was quite an experience that no small set of words and people of limited vocabulary such as myself could describe. I could only make the following statement to those who think drugs are awesome: Try the real thing you losers !

My music is what has been with me through good times and bad times. Through the bad and hard ones I can remember clinging on to life by the skin o' my teeth ......and music had a significant role in holding my mouth in place for it. While I met my favourite songwriter in 2008 and was moved to tears, 2011 was a year of a few "Epic" bands for me which I have wanted to watch since a few years..........most of which I didnt have to travel much for. Some of my "Gods" who I've witnessed are Judas Priest, Slash w/i Miles Kennedy (with a whole 'Appetite' section), Thin Lizzy (Scott Gorham, Brian Downey, Darren Wharton), Queensryche, Mr.Big (near 3 hour KILLER set), Opeth (Heritage tour) and others Pain of salvation, Discharge, Yob, Kongh, Tesseract etc......while I did miss my heart favourite "Gods" such as Blackmore's Night, Yes, Zappa plays Zappa (Dweezil playing Frank) and Napalm death who played within manageable reach due to scheduling conflicts. This was still only a dream to live in a good city where the big musical acts would.

While we're still at music; I quit devoting a reasonable time to the guitar after 2006. After then, a guitar has mostly only served as my frustration removal mechanism. Not one song had I learnt properly since then till I went to University in this country when I had briefly picked up the bass and done a couple of shows.
I had kept the guitar down in favour of building what might let me pick up the craft again and develop that aspect of me.........as I am no natural born talent and have been teaching myself (mostly) to shred since the age of 19. In 2011, I was part of a doom metal band while I was at India. I was part of making of an original composition with a band for the first time and I was even part of the original recording of a demo version of a song. All this while I was rustier than ever at playing guitar. Never before had I done this with a band - as I seldom got along with other people's ideas while they rarely liked mine. My only original contribution to the final recording of this song is one riff.............yet I am proud it as it is a first. And should the band perform this song live, my riff will still be a part of it.
Also, 2011 has been kind enough to gift me a "Good" guitar of my dreams (after years of wishing and searching for her), a decent practice valve amplifier and my first pair of analog sweetboxes..........a taste which has been developing in me since 3 years. I have been playing with the goal of getting good since.

As I like observing wild animals and used to watch national geographic a bit, years ago when I still watched tele - I became a member of the Bristol zoo so that I could go visit there and make friends with the fellows there at any time. A good option I thought for one such as myself who tends to get bored of interacting with human beings quite easily.

I got rid of my fear walking rope bridges and tight ropes by doing the Zooropia adventure at the Bristol Zoo.

While 2011 saw me travel alone to a few places within England (London, Derby, Birmingham, Leicester, Bath) with the spirit of Captain Kirk's motto a heart; the first among places which I have always wanted to go visit in the United Kingdom outside of England has been Scotland. I therefore decided to go back-packing to the all alone and have adventure in the frost and snow over the Christmas break. Although it never snowed over Christmas, thanks to global warming and the wind quelled a lot of my excitement - it didnt manage to do enough.......not nearly.
A culturally rich nation of many a folklore. Although my stay was very brief and not fulfilling my desire to ski, I went on a tour of the highlands to Loch Ness. I have always fancied sighting the monster - popularly called "Nessie". I went on a boat with a sonar and well, I am happy that there is a section of the scientific community tha actually believes Nessie to be true...............a correct source will tell you there are 18 of them! The highlands apart are beautiful and I passed castles and villages hearing stories of personalities such as William Wallace and Rob Roy all out of the mouth of a Scotsman. I passed by several locations where Monty Python and the Holy grail was shot and several locations of the Harry Potter movies.
I stayed at Edinburgh and went to the castle and drank proper highland Scotch Whiskey from a distillery that I had passed ony the day before. I went on a Ghost tour with a television personality called 'David the Ghost'. I was also briefly at Glasgow, where I saw different street musicians play tunes, ate sushi complete with 'a hot one', and observed the relatively 'emotionless' attitude of a big city which one wont get at Bristol. Infact, surprisingly - Edinburgh I felt has a soul despite being quite a big place.............despite the fact that 3/4ths of it has been built on a graveyard that is ;-) So this one is again only a partially fulfilled wish. But, hey - for a place like Scotland......atleast its a start !

As for the last day fo the year, I returned to Bristol by late afternoon and watched a kick arse Sex Pistols tribute band called The Sex Pistols Experience............was nice moshing after a long time, moshing with real punks...to Anarchy in the UK.

                                           ^^^Hogwarts Express needs to ride this bridge ^^^

                                             ^^Thats tribute Johnny Rotten, what do you think?^^

However, not all had been awesome in the year. The first seven months of 2011 were quite very trying and difficult. The dementors were all over. But that is what taught me to use my 'patronus'.

I wish that my 2012 is therefore much much more awesome and I wish you the same too.
Hope you have an awesome 2012 at the least.........and if you ever come to doubt it, hold out your wand and scream, "EXPECCTO - PATRONUMMM !!!! "
(and dont forget to make your bucketlists......and if you're feeling stuck, then its time to grow them even more ;-) )

Bath by BATH

Saturday, 26th November 2011 is another among many days called "epic" by the homo sapiens sapiens, in the life time of this robot soul.
(recommended sonic ambience: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KD-4BY96GJw )

I woke up late in the morning and cycled 15 miles to Bath and about 13 back into Bristol, leaving without a morning bath, brushing of teeth, milk or breakfast. A procrastinated dream come true - by sheer spirit of positivity of the moment and divinely injected excitement of the brain in what has come to be the longest bike ride that I have ever undertaken and successfully completed in my life to this point.

So I sat up on bed at 10am of this Saturday morning and skype'd the mother to freshen up with her 'early morning', "disciplinary" abuses. And when I cut the call fifteen minutes later, I was unsure of how exactly I was going to use a nice sunny looking day. So I thought, I'd ride back to the suspension bridge and go to the fort area this time and write about the Clifton down. But I really wanted more excitement than going to a familiar place - and so it occurred that I must perhaps google Bath just for arguments. And I was naturally drawn to the website of the Cycle Path to Bath from Bristol - which has been in existence since the 70s, having heard about cycling to Bath from my Sensei.
Now Bath is quite close to Bristol - upto fifteen miles away or less, depending upon the route taken.
The website showed the path to begin at the City Centre while it went past places near my residence, which lies on the outskirts of Bristol. So while I tried locating the path on a provided map, I thought it may be easier to use GoogleMaps - which I did and jotted down the Motorway directions to Bath thinking, "we'll figure out the cyclepath SomeWhere"....
And so this empty speculative consciousness shaped itself into an image of me reaching Bath by cycling past images of trees, grass, hills, downs and a stream running by (ofcourse with a railway track to one side, being the "Railway" Path)......while I still pondered over my 'need to' freshen up, bathe and perform morning chores by force of virtue or religious redundancy.
But then ignited the spontaneous yet familiar spark of idea of impulse driven thrill by the will of Loki.
With a blacktooth grin (literally) I said aloud to myself, "Who needs a bath when one's going to BATH, ha?"
However, the immediate next feeling was the squeeking of three little mice which I hadn't eaten the last night from the upper part of my stomach with another two trying hard to come out of there from the lower portion.
So I forced myself to the bathroom and put on my sweater after having sterilised myself of every last germ that I could visualise - while simultaneously shoving my fluorescent cycle jacket into my backpack (which I was carrying without a specific handy thought in mind). And thus, I hit the road.

And so I was at the Motorway before I knew it, cycling an extreme corner. Now I knew well that it is illegal to cycle on a motorway, however I was unsure of reactions and implementation in actuality and wavered that it might be worth testing waters - so when I was challenged by the flow of speedy traffic when it came to the entrance to the M32 (towards London), I decided to continue pedalling along my straight path till I encountered an alternative. Foolish as this was, having cycled 35 minutes to here I carried on. While I was beginning to grow tired of another of many supposed long"est" and 'endless' pointless straight paths of my life, a "Pandu log ka gaadi" came to my rescue. Rescue I say ! Yet my first reaction when I saw them drive past me from nearby, flash tail lights and pull over just ahead of my tread (Yes, I had the unconscious common-sense to be walking at this point anticipating intervention - don't ask, God speaks to me sometimes.) was to think "shit, ab to mother sister ho gaya. Do these guys drink tea too?".
But hmmm, they saved me from walking that seemingly never-ending stretch of motorway which had no crossing for the "next Three Miles"! is what they told me and added that "you'd be better off walking your way back mate......WITHOUT TRYING TO RIDE YOUR BIKE! (wink +daddy's watching type smile)" - and they said I had to walk my ay back till a certain place where from I could supposedly find myself on the proper cycle-path. And so I treaded along my way back for more than mile which took me about a half of the hour while m mind was semi engaged in keeping my body and bicycle from being run-over while my mind was still majorly keeping me motivated by paying attention to the brilliant Satch-impersonation in 'Black magic' playing into my ears. (My phone mostly serves as my time-teller, alarm clock and music player - I have seldom used it for other purposes.....so I also knew that it was for over 30 minutes that my legs were walking.)

And I managed to trace my way back and across the road onto a path with a bicycle sign and arrow shaped board reading "Bath" big and loud. And I followed the guidance and pedalled straight on. I pedalled into a path along the footpath which ran parallel to the Motorway and then into little mildly isolated runs with grass on either side but flowing with the hilly nature of this side of England and across little bridges running accross the motorway which were shared by pedestrians and then into an isolated looking path. What was clear after having pedalled a distance was that this sure was "a" cycle path, but was it 'The' cycle path? The reason for doubt was only fair as it has been a while since that road sign.

And thus I embarked on the cycle path, got to Bath and back and purified my soul by a 'bath' in a sense of fulfillment.

It is a good little city of Roman heritage. Called "Bath Spa" - as that is the legacy that the romans left behind -a healing mineral Bath Spa.

As for my experience and opinions along the path; short of words to keep it anything less than a small book - I think you should do it.............while I'm happy to go along so you dont end up on the motorway like I did
 ;-) .

My entry into A proper cyclepath which would join up with THE proper cycle path

                                                      The mark of the ginger bread man !!!

Abstract art along the path

                                                    The path from Mangotsfield

                                          Warmley - the station which became a "tapri".

                                          Do you like apples?

                                          This beautiful country of apple trees !

                                                         Old school heavy metal

                                                                           Sweet?

                                          This one appeared in an episode of Naruto.

                                                             Do you see an alligator?

                                I thought this guy was a doodhwala bhaiya for the first few moments

                                                                      "Still life"

                                    This is the end of the path which birdges me into proper Bath.

                                     "Alone in the dark, where the demons are torturing me"

                                                      
                                       The actual start of the path at the City Centre is where I returned to.

Because I didnt get a decent one of me along the ride I got one back in my kitchen smelling like the spirit of the path yet without a bath. 

Zooropias of life

(recommended sonic ambience: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHi_2pkNZWI&NR=1 )

Saturday, 12th of November. When a friend did not turn up to a guitar jam at my residence (first for me in a long time) as he was entrapped in the realm of 'Friday Night Sleep' (sorry thats the best I'm feeling at this moment with respect to coming up with a noteworthy common name for this 'realm' which each individual creates on a Friday night.); I decided that I must do the 'rope walk' at the Bristol Zoo which I had wanted to do since my first visit to there. I didn't however because for one, this region still had a lot of bees and wasps flying around and I didnt want these stinged threats buzzing fear into me while I was trying to keep both my feet on a tight rope which is secured at ends at 25 feet above the ground.

I parked my bicycle at the stand outside, flashed my membership card at the entrance for a scan....and then I went straight for the gold. Saying 'hi' to my new animal friends was for another day - it did however cross my mind to pay respects to my Gujarati friend who works here and reckoned I'd do it on my way out. I bought the ticket for this 'adventure' which is an extra for everyone and as I got buckled up to commence whilst receiving instructions - I drew courage from the little lady who was a third my size and perhaps a fourth my age. She had a broad confident smile across her face and I gathered from her conversation with the person who offered instructions and tips that she had done this before.
So I thought to myself, if this little girl can do it: so can I. With this thought in mind I followed her up the ascension bridge (after she had crossed it ofcourse; as I didnt want my CG inbalances to foil her enthusiasm). However, in this case monkey-see, monkey do seemed like a good starting approach.

The ascension bridge is of 'ramp up' style made of ropes running along its length and laterally across, secured at ends made up of a wooden 'tree trunk' frame. The ropes network within the frame form squares which are a foot a side. So this ascent involves stepping upon the sides of the squares without letting the legs slip through the squares. Simple as it looked, the actual climb had me breathing slow and say stuff like "chakra kontrol" to myself (Naruto is inspiring). And when I did, I thought back of a time more than half my life-years ago when I was learning to be a boy scout in school. A time when a simple rope bridge was constructed across two trees during a scout camp - comprising only of one inch-line to support both of my feet onto and another one which was over head for hand gripped support and the line for the feet was only 5 feet above ground. I was afraid of doing it back then but was forced to and thus attempted without determination which resulted in a fear of falling getting to me while I was a third of the way through. I questioned the possibility of lasting it for the remaining 2/3rd-s of the way. This resulted in my loss of momentary mental balance and it did not lag out in being translated to the physical world. I fell. Had mud all over a side of my uniform. I had hurt my bum and everybody laughed as I walked away. I didn't want to do it a second time when I was ordered to and had to compensate for lack of obedience with a load of back-breaker sit-ups.

When I had first decided that I wanted to do this adventure called "Zooropia", I had made my decision based upon how awesome "must it be to do that?". But as I was ascending, I was starting to remember that feeling from that day as a boy scout. But my gaze upon the kid who was about to complete the first level after ascent had me forget it......temporarily. And I embarked upon the first level which was a V-rope bridge. The "V" is formed by a single line to step upon and a line on either side for support at about the height of my (very afraid) waist. But the ego wouldn't have me give up. I had dropped 6 quid on this.....and the children behind me were watching, waiting for me to finish the level so they could embark. I therefore placed my fear alongside my desire to fulfill this in the hands of a super-power which resides within me and stepped forth. When I looked below, I saw people walk under me. But I brought my eyes back to the rope and finished this first level with a sigh of relief when I stepped upon a hard wooden platform with a pole in the middle which I clung to for mental support when I saw the next level. It was almost what I failed on in my boy scouting days. The difference: this one was 25 feet above ground, I had an anchor (which wasnt happy to bet on from this kind of height) and there were punching style bags reading "anchor" attached to the rope above. I never used these bags after I tried holding on to the first one, nearly lost my balance and got to where I came face to face with fear. The mental comfort of a rope-walk only five feet above the ground with mud which could only ruin my clothes, a ground which could mildly hurt the 'AAS-an', a boy scout-troop which could only have every single member laugh his 'AAS-an' off and a forfeit in the form of a few sit-ups was suddenly replaced by horrifying mental images of landing seat down on fence-stakes below being anally impaled as the Sage Mandavya (the sharp end making its way out through the mouth), the water below with ducks swimming and an imaginary adder lurking nearby, falling into the big bushes below containing an imaginary nest of wasps and lastly - falling over a little child from the height before breaking some bone(s).
The more my mind slipped, the more the rope shook. And so I just HAD TO do it. I had to. I looked into my watch. It read half two. So I looked into it and whispered, "GIANT ROBOT, COME ON."
...........I WISH. But there wasn't anything nearly as exciting as a dino-sized alien mutant monster attacking Bristol zoo happening. So I decided to save that for another day and focused on the excitement I felt about wanting to do the Zooropia before I embarked on it......and the satisfaction (and ego-boost) that I must feel after successfully completing it. and kept moving forth with an unconscious sense of balance. I was on the next platform before I knew it and I found myself hugging the pole on which it was rested like it were my mom and I were three. The next level had no 'punching-bag anchors' either. But by now, my philosophical side had activated (while the body continued to balance and tread forth carefully).
I asked myself, "Is this a fair manner to live?" A rhetorical answer returned from the inner light, "What d'you reckon you'd feel when you've finished this? Will it be in line with the positive vision you saw in your mind before you embarked upon this adventure?". Thus, realizing this vision was atleast in part in my hands (and body balance!). It is true that I did not have control over the anchor or the effect of fatigue upon the loaded ropes and device-bridges......nor did I have control over mother nature who was kind enough not to send a rogue bee, wasp or stingy/bitey fly at that time to torment me with the evil buzz-around and throw me off-balance! It is also natural to over-perceive failure modes in constructions such as these when you're a structures engineer for a living.
Despite all of the above, I knew that only as much as was in my control; was in my control. Therefore the fairest appoach was to ignore and turn a blind eye (or 'duffer brain') to all of the rest which were not.
Know what? I completed it and got the feeling which I wished to have! It worked for me, Again.
(But it was only a part, as the Grace of God is really what keeps the undesirable out of experience's reach. The "God" entity must therefore be with where positivity is nurtured. But this is another debate.)

 (that is the easiest bit which is at the end of the trail. Too bad it is all that was within reach of staff with my phillistine mobile phone camera)

 (Thats right. It ends with an Indiana Jones style rope slide - the most fun part of the whole experience!)

 (Thats just me looking imbecile after touching ground)

(That is my new Gujarati friend - well, I wannabe his friend atleast!)