We'd been back from the tin hut by the sea for a few days but had relatively little to moan about - apart from the usual Asda wa**ers keeping me awake in the night, and yes Bernard I finally gave in and tried earplugs but I couldn't hear anything, so had to get rid of them - the main reason for the lack of grumpiness is that I've had lots of work to do in rather a hurry, and so was cocooned in my own little bubble, totally cut off from the outside ... during this glorious weather [so I heard] boo hoo, sob.
Of course I emerged from behind my magnifying lamp eventually [Saturday] and truly wished I hadn't, it was much nicer being oblivious to Langley Mill's youff-dom.
First of all we'd returned from a family visit and we were reading a notice - about footpaths 53 and Pottery Lane - that had been attached to Mr HH's fence, but some cretin decided it needed pulling off. I waited while my grumpy old man attempted to reattach it.
During this I heard one of those mini-motorbike whatstits whizzing along Pottery Lane, and then I watched in amazement as this head went backwards and forwards - at speed - down the ramp onto Bridge Street, finally revealing itself as the tw*t on the bike. Me being me and not at all being able to keep my mouth shut, I shouted ... 'this is a footpath, not a motorbike route'.
This surly teenager totally ignored my remonstration and stopped just short of running into me. I then said ... 'I suppose you expect me to move for you' ... reply 'grunt' ... 'well, I'm not'. He had actually got a voice other than the customary teenage grunt, as he said he'd go in front of me... which he did, almost running my GOM over - while he was still farting about with that bloody notice. The youff then carried on a third of the way down Bridge Street and up an entry ... I've no idea who he is.
Having now been let loose from my workspace I decided to reacquaint myself with 'bigjobs' my super computer, this meant being in the spare room for an hour or two, tut, what a mistake. If I were anywhere else I wouldn't be able to witness more twa**ing youffs trying to break things on HH land. I may start locking myself away in a cupboard somewhere.
Much later, after examining the contents - or lack of - in my fridge, freezer and cupboards, I announced to grumpy that I was off to - begrudgingly - spend some money at that biggish corner shop just over the way. He came with me to carry my debit card.
Just before we got to our peasants ramp up to Asda we passed four girls, all about twelve or thirteen years old, pleasant and giggly, but I could have knocked their heads together ... or glared at my GOM for doing it [we've all inherited this 'glare' from my mother - it's horrible].
It ... being walk on the road to go around them as they steadfastly stuck to walking four abreast ... not me, oh no, I've finally realised who the tw*ts are, and it's us for moving out of their way, time and time again, this time I was prepared to clash elbows and anything else that got in my way as I walked along the edge of the kerb [yes I know, I'm still making way for them].
This is NOT purely a Langley Mill phenomenon as it is much discussed amongst us - tin hut dwellers - at Winthorpe [Skeggy]. We have compared notes on numerous occasions about how we automatically shift out of the way.
I was brought up to ALWAYS move for anyone older than myself - which at my age is getting increasingly more difficult - this included giving up my seat on a bus as well as moving to one side while walking along a street. To be honest I've probably forgotten how old I am when I get out of the way, but not any more!
In future, if anyone younger than me expects me to move to one side for them, they're in for a shock, cos I'm not moving - hmm, this is all supposing I remember [being my age means I'm forgetful - apparently]. In fact, just to make sure I get in someone's way, I'm off out right now to stand in the middle of a pavement somewhere ...
Showing posts with label vandalism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vandalism. Show all posts
Tuesday, 4 October 2011
Thursday, 11 August 2011
Saturday, 11 June 2011
A Joyride ... On Heanor Haulage Yard
Before you read this, I must apologise for my obvious swearing which is dotted throughout this post, but I was [as my friend observed yesterday] in a really tetchy mood - although I feel much better after my latest mini-rant:
My grumpy old man was just off on yet another of his trips to the tip yesterday morning when Mr Heanor Haulage shouted to him - it was probably only to say 'hello' but my GOM takes any form of greeting as an invitation to move in and make himself comfy ... bless him.
It turns out that HH were broken into, sometime between Thursday afternoon last week and Monday morning. This time there was significant damage caused because some smart ar*e managed to get the crane started and ran amok with it.
Luckily the damage was confined to HH property [no tears from me then], but could have been worse. One of the flat-beds struck by the crane gouged a six foot long furrow. If it hadn't been weighed down [with crap, presumably] it would have ended up in someone's house.
There have been threats made by Mr HH to trees or at least some branches as he wrongly assumed that they were used to climb in over the fence. Not at all, I know how easy it is to get in there, so easy I could manage it myself if I was so minded [I may have mentioned it before].
Anyway we weren't at home - being at the seaside as befits our crumbly status - so not there to enjoy the fun or to ring the police ... of course there were footballers on Queen Street rec that know whodunnit [but are keeping mum], we know this because one of these self confessed witnesses shouted over to ask if they'd caught them yet.
I know Heanor Haulage come and go, make a racket, pollute our atmosphere then bog off on an erratic schedule, but I'd have thought that someone farther down Bridge Street or at the top of Dean Street would have heard the wrecking spree.
The consequence for us poor sods at the top of Bridge Street - well those of us without a tin hut by the sea to escape to - is that the crane is no longer stored in the middle of HH yard, but has now taken up noisy residence - jacked up so immobile - next to the top house.
This is a really bad place for it - because as sure as I'm grumpy [oh yes I am] - Mr HH will start it up for whatever reason [fairly frequently if the last couple of days are anything to go by], and the fumes that that decrepit heap of sh*t chug out are truly horrendous.
These black, acrid fumes just waft straight around the corner and into our open windows - yes, I know it's stupid of us to assume that we can have our windows or doors open without being beaten back by muck, fumes and noise from H-effin-H ... and Asda with their squawk, squawk, squawk [lorry reversing] deliveries and bloody squeaky gates, we've only asked them THREE times to oil them - you'd have thought we'd have learnt better by now [rant not quite over yet - but I am getting there].
At one point - being the twitcher I am - I was on the street taking photos of [evicted] House Martins on HHs yard collecting mud for nests, when the pile of junk was started up again - cough, wheeze - I was fighting for breath and I swear the birds were keeling over ... but I suppose if I do stand in the middle [yes it is the middle, Asda says so] of Langley Mill, expecting to be able to do something as unrealistic as breathing, then I'm just asking to have my nose and lungs - ergo my brain - filled with poison.
My GOM went and asked if they'd mind not using the crane quite so much - they do have a tendency to leave it chugging merrily away to itself, but I'm not convinced this is actually worse than keep starting it up over and over again.
This request was met with Mr HH's usual charm - bolshy bast**d!
Not a good move on his part, because I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever again [do I make myself quite clear?] phone the police when little [or big] tw*ts break into his yard. In fact, when they've finished playing around in there [stealing cable, joyriding - whatever], I'll most likely invite them in for a cuppa and a biscuit - no, I don't believe me either but it reads good.
His totally unnecessary bombastic reaction to such a reasonable request wouldn't have been quite the smack in the face it was, if we hadn't just provided him with the photos of the bored teenagers who broke in at Easter.
Oh yes, and we're all supposed to be getting a visit from the police in case we witnessed anything. If they take as long as the last proposed visit - still waiting - then I won't be holding what's left of my breath ...
My grumpy old man was just off on yet another of his trips to the tip yesterday morning when Mr Heanor Haulage shouted to him - it was probably only to say 'hello' but my GOM takes any form of greeting as an invitation to move in and make himself comfy ... bless him.
It turns out that HH were broken into, sometime between Thursday afternoon last week and Monday morning. This time there was significant damage caused because some smart ar*e managed to get the crane started and ran amok with it.
Luckily the damage was confined to HH property [no tears from me then], but could have been worse. One of the flat-beds struck by the crane gouged a six foot long furrow. If it hadn't been weighed down [with crap, presumably] it would have ended up in someone's house.
There have been threats made by Mr HH to trees or at least some branches as he wrongly assumed that they were used to climb in over the fence. Not at all, I know how easy it is to get in there, so easy I could manage it myself if I was so minded [I may have mentioned it before].
Anyway we weren't at home - being at the seaside as befits our crumbly status - so not there to enjoy the fun or to ring the police ... of course there were footballers on Queen Street rec that know whodunnit [but are keeping mum], we know this because one of these self confessed witnesses shouted over to ask if they'd caught them yet.
I know Heanor Haulage come and go, make a racket, pollute our atmosphere then bog off on an erratic schedule, but I'd have thought that someone farther down Bridge Street or at the top of Dean Street would have heard the wrecking spree.
The consequence for us poor sods at the top of Bridge Street - well those of us without a tin hut by the sea to escape to - is that the crane is no longer stored in the middle of HH yard, but has now taken up noisy residence - jacked up so immobile - next to the top house.
This is a really bad place for it - because as sure as I'm grumpy [oh yes I am] - Mr HH will start it up for whatever reason [fairly frequently if the last couple of days are anything to go by], and the fumes that that decrepit heap of sh*t chug out are truly horrendous.
These black, acrid fumes just waft straight around the corner and into our open windows - yes, I know it's stupid of us to assume that we can have our windows or doors open without being beaten back by muck, fumes and noise from H-effin-H ... and Asda with their squawk, squawk, squawk [lorry reversing] deliveries and bloody squeaky gates, we've only asked them THREE times to oil them - you'd have thought we'd have learnt better by now [rant not quite over yet - but I am getting there].
At one point - being the twitcher I am - I was on the street taking photos of [evicted] House Martins on HHs yard collecting mud for nests, when the pile of junk was started up again - cough, wheeze - I was fighting for breath and I swear the birds were keeling over ... but I suppose if I do stand in the middle [yes it is the middle, Asda says so] of Langley Mill, expecting to be able to do something as unrealistic as breathing, then I'm just asking to have my nose and lungs - ergo my brain - filled with poison.
My GOM went and asked if they'd mind not using the crane quite so much - they do have a tendency to leave it chugging merrily away to itself, but I'm not convinced this is actually worse than keep starting it up over and over again.
This request was met with Mr HH's usual charm - bolshy bast**d!
Not a good move on his part, because I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever again [do I make myself quite clear?] phone the police when little [or big] tw*ts break into his yard. In fact, when they've finished playing around in there [stealing cable, joyriding - whatever], I'll most likely invite them in for a cuppa and a biscuit - no, I don't believe me either but it reads good.
His totally unnecessary bombastic reaction to such a reasonable request wouldn't have been quite the smack in the face it was, if we hadn't just provided him with the photos of the bored teenagers who broke in at Easter.
Oh yes, and we're all supposed to be getting a visit from the police in case we witnessed anything. If they take as long as the last proposed visit - still waiting - then I won't be holding what's left of my breath ...
Thursday, 5 August 2010
Goodbye Langley Mill's Bookies
Oh dear, we have to say goodbye to the bookies next Tuesday. I asked my source - I have to use terms like that, it makes me feel more important - when the Post Office is to close. But, as you may have guessed, the PO wasn't uppermost in the grumpy old man's mind when he received the bad news about the bookies closing ... Righto, he's been to make enquiries and the Post Office won't be closing until the new one is ready.
There's been a bit of stupid vandalism in Langley Mill [nothing new there], when the big recycling bins were set fire to on the car park on Cromford Road [also a fence was burnt on Aldreds Lane]. On the same night, a wheelie bin from Bridge street was moved to the Asda fence in the 'turnaround' at the top corner, we don't know if anyone broke into the site or not.
Work seems to be progressing well on the roundabout, quite a lot of tarmac has gone down. The BT chamber is sort of still a bit holey but I'm sure they'll get their finger out!
Right onto rumours, there aren't many although I've heard several versions about the same subject, namely CJ Cars, and before anyone gets their knickers in a twist, I didn't make any up myself:
- CJ cars has closed for good [retired].
- CJ Cars is just waiting until the road is re-opened.
- CJ Cars was hoping for Asda to buy them out and they changed their mind.
- Asda has paid CJ Cars enormous sums in compensation.
- CJ Cars has sold out to a well known fast food restaurant.
- The Mill Pub is to be demolished.
- Netto will be the 'George' dept.
- The road through Langley Mill be will opened on Tuesday 10th August - yes, it made me laugh too.
Yes - it can bend fences ... Int it terrific? And it's got 20x zoom, ha ha - there's nowhere left to hide ...
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
Heanor Haulage Hoodies
For the first time since Heanor Haulage have been on the back of us [as well as the front] we saw five hooded dewdrops blatantly trespassing. Yes we've seen the odd teenager squeeze through from Queen Street recreation ground to allegedly retrieve a football, but this lot were on a mission of mischief.
First they tapped the diesel tank; presumably to see if there was anything in it, then one or two ran around poking at things, climbed into the cabs of the shunter and crane then congregated at the back of our wall where I smiled, waved and showed them my camera.
They made a hasty retreat back through the way they came. They were probably only on HH land for all of three minutes.
OK, it was now too late to do my civic duty of phoning the police - I did suggest it to the grumpy old man but he seemed to think that it would make us sitting targets as these teenagers knew where we lived and anyway by now they'd gone to do whatever stupid hoodies do best elsewhere.
What is it with this uniform that teenagers are wearing? because that's what wearing identical hooded tops amounts to. Don't the silly sods realise that? When I was a teenager [in days of yore but not before the war!] we all tried to be as individual as possible and couldn't wait to get out of our uniforms when we got home from school or work.
And my next question has got to be... Why are parents allowing their delightful offspring out wearing these hooded tops? Do they really think that 'Junior - bless him' wouldn't do any wrong? Get a grip PARENTS, why do you think they wear them? To keep their delicate necks warm!
So, seeing as we didn't phone the police but were worried in case little kids playing on the rec saw the hole, climbed through and got injured, we went in search of the HH security guard whom we'd always seen a lot of before. Aha! he wasn't there was he? RG group was somewhat in evidence with their temporary buildings.
We carried on down Wesley Street, I took a few more photo's ... it hadn't taken long for t**ts to start smashing windows in the partly demolished HH buildings - I've never understood the urge to smash the windows in derelict buildings, I know this behaviour is nothing new - hmm, I must have been a goody two shoes!
Oh look, four of the five hoodies [one went over the bridge to North Street] sat on the corner of Cromford Road drinking out of cans, leering and jeering at three, ahem, young ladies, standing in a leering position. If that was supposed to be early courtship then I'm glad I'm nearly old, it's not nice is it?
The GOM had another sortie around to HH yesterday while I was busy working. This time he found plenty of security there and Mr HH himself turned up. They knew about the break in and now, Mr HH would appreciate it if we phoned the police next time we see anyone trespassing - will he pay for our smashed windows and damaged car if we do? I think not.
It has been suggested that something may have been stolen, well if it was, it wasn't while I was watching them unless it was small enough to hide in their clothing. I'm not saying that they or other opportunists didn't have a rummage around the yard later but if they did, I honestly didn't see them ...
First they tapped the diesel tank; presumably to see if there was anything in it, then one or two ran around poking at things, climbed into the cabs of the shunter and crane then congregated at the back of our wall where I smiled, waved and showed them my camera.
They made a hasty retreat back through the way they came. They were probably only on HH land for all of three minutes.
OK, it was now too late to do my civic duty of phoning the police - I did suggest it to the grumpy old man but he seemed to think that it would make us sitting targets as these teenagers knew where we lived and anyway by now they'd gone to do whatever stupid hoodies do best elsewhere.
What is it with this uniform that teenagers are wearing? because that's what wearing identical hooded tops amounts to. Don't the silly sods realise that? When I was a teenager [in days of yore but not before the war!] we all tried to be as individual as possible and couldn't wait to get out of our uniforms when we got home from school or work.
And my next question has got to be... Why are parents allowing their delightful offspring out wearing these hooded tops? Do they really think that 'Junior - bless him' wouldn't do any wrong? Get a grip PARENTS, why do you think they wear them? To keep their delicate necks warm!
So, seeing as we didn't phone the police but were worried in case little kids playing on the rec saw the hole, climbed through and got injured, we went in search of the HH security guard whom we'd always seen a lot of before. Aha! he wasn't there was he? RG group was somewhat in evidence with their temporary buildings.
We carried on down Wesley Street, I took a few more photo's ... it hadn't taken long for t**ts to start smashing windows in the partly demolished HH buildings - I've never understood the urge to smash the windows in derelict buildings, I know this behaviour is nothing new - hmm, I must have been a goody two shoes!
Oh look, four of the five hoodies [one went over the bridge to North Street] sat on the corner of Cromford Road drinking out of cans, leering and jeering at three, ahem, young ladies, standing in a leering position. If that was supposed to be early courtship then I'm glad I'm nearly old, it's not nice is it?
The GOM had another sortie around to HH yesterday while I was busy working. This time he found plenty of security there and Mr HH himself turned up. They knew about the break in and now, Mr HH would appreciate it if we phoned the police next time we see anyone trespassing - will he pay for our smashed windows and damaged car if we do? I think not.
It has been suggested that something may have been stolen, well if it was, it wasn't while I was watching them unless it was small enough to hide in their clothing. I'm not saying that they or other opportunists didn't have a rummage around the yard later but if they did, I honestly didn't see them ...
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
Langley Mill Morons
Three t**ts have just this minute 'egged' my neighbours house and windows again. It looks by the evidence they've thrown away that they'd been to Farmfoods. Of course the hosepipe and outside tap is frozen solid so my neighbour can't clean the eggs off as they're too high to reach.
Why don't people care what their precious little sh**s are doing? Oh yes of course - as long as they're out of their way, they don't care where they are or what they're doing!!
I suppose this means that we'll be lying awake at night again waiting for worse to happen as they always start off small. Well don't forget you stupid morons, the police said they'd go straight to your houses if we have any more trouble, and if it's not you doing it this time then you'd better tell your friends to stop it as you'll get the blame.
Hurry up and demolish the bridge extension Asda because as I've said before, the bridge steps is where the cowardly t**ts stand to throw their missiles - because we can't see who they are ...
Why don't people care what their precious little sh**s are doing? Oh yes of course - as long as they're out of their way, they don't care where they are or what they're doing!!
I suppose this means that we'll be lying awake at night again waiting for worse to happen as they always start off small. Well don't forget you stupid morons, the police said they'd go straight to your houses if we have any more trouble, and if it's not you doing it this time then you'd better tell your friends to stop it as you'll get the blame.
Hurry up and demolish the bridge extension Asda because as I've said before, the bridge steps is where the cowardly t**ts stand to throw their missiles - because we can't see who they are ...
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Just One Evening In Skegness.
We went for a pleasant tootle along Skegness sea-front. I was forced to eat an ice cream dipped in hot chocolate against my will [yum].
As usual the local loonies were revving up and racing around the big car park near the boating lake. 'Wouldn't it be great if a police car came now? That'd make them behave.' was the general consensus. Right on cue a police car did a circuit of the car park completely ignoring the loonies who were by then miraculously sitting and behaving, then it carried on along the promenade.
We were a bit speechless, well I was, madam was busy talking to her hubby on the phone, covering all the obligatory subjects -
'What's the weather like?'
'What did you have for your dinner?'
'Did you go shopping?'
'Who did you see?'
'What did they say?'
'Did they wonder where I was?'
'What time did you go to the toilet?'
[I may have imagined the last one ... but only just.]
'Ooh, it's lovely here, we've got a sea breeze, we've been out in the sunshine all day without getting hot, aren't you jealous?'
'Remember me to everyone.' blah, blah blah ...
We carried on our merry way, admiring the flowers, we'd watched the gardeners planting some earlier in the day. You can say what you like about Skeggy but they always make a big effort with the gardens. We then sat and watched some firemen playing with their big ladder on the other side of what's left of the pier. When that entertainment proved to be less than thrilling we tootled off only to be met by a gardening massacre. There are new huge tubs with a Silver Birch in each with flowers planted around them. They were fine when we passed them earlier, but in the space of an hour someone had uprooted some of the plants and thrown them on the floor to die.
Just after this between the pier and the Suncastle is a new play area, it used to be a paddling pool. It was full of adolescents, lots of them were drinking [it wasn't pop] and there were empty cans strewn around. Why don't their parents know where they are or what they're doing? If they do know, do they really care? and who is selling alcohol to children so young? [or fetching it on their behalf]. No-one dare say anything to these [very young] teenagers, there's far too many of them together. You daren't even look in their direction for fear of causing unnecessary trouble for yourself.
A few minutes later we passed the Suncastle where we stopped to watch some crumblies playing bowls, then we noticed three boys crashing through the bushes, deliberately breaking them down, they were about 10 or 11 years old. We continued on our way back muttering and moaning. We managed to get madam past her favourite chippy without resorting to too much violence.
Now I'm not suggesting that as children we were in any way perfect. We weren't [I came pretty damned close though]. It's fairly normal for a child to rebel and to see how far they can push authority. The big difference is, we as children DID recognise authority and once an adult told us off [any adult], we accepted it and went on our way suitably chastened, obviously muttering under our collective breath. What we didn't do was answer back or intimidate by our sheer numbers. We were instilled from an early age with respect for all adults. This respect for others and their property has all but vanished.
For some reason a lot of today's children believe that adults are simply a minor aggravation somewhere convenient in the background as a source of funds and an endless supply of the latest gadgets and designer gear. I blame children's television for a lot of this attitude. they nearly always portray adults as moronic, interfering, stick-in-the-mud dinosaurs and children are always, ALWAYS right and proved to be so on a daily basis.
I know these are only minor, trivial misdemeanours that I'm moaning about but where will it end, if these little vandals carry on getting away with doing what they like and not recognising right from wrong then in a few years time they'll be the one's revving up in the car parks [or worse] and racing around and nothing will be done about that until someone is tragically killed.
It's a shame that Skegness is abused by losers who think it's an achievement to get an ASBO. Skegness is just one town and I can only write about my own experiences but it's a safe bet that this abuse of communal [and private] property is occurring in every town in our country by the mindless minority who give a bad name to the rest of the youth of today ...
As usual the local loonies were revving up and racing around the big car park near the boating lake. 'Wouldn't it be great if a police car came now? That'd make them behave.' was the general consensus. Right on cue a police car did a circuit of the car park completely ignoring the loonies who were by then miraculously sitting and behaving, then it carried on along the promenade.
We were a bit speechless, well I was, madam was busy talking to her hubby on the phone, covering all the obligatory subjects -
'What's the weather like?'
'What did you have for your dinner?'
'Did you go shopping?'
'Who did you see?'
'What did they say?'
'Did they wonder where I was?'
'What time did you go to the toilet?'
[I may have imagined the last one ... but only just.]
'Ooh, it's lovely here, we've got a sea breeze, we've been out in the sunshine all day without getting hot, aren't you jealous?'
'Remember me to everyone.' blah, blah blah ...
We carried on our merry way, admiring the flowers, we'd watched the gardeners planting some earlier in the day. You can say what you like about Skeggy but they always make a big effort with the gardens. We then sat and watched some firemen playing with their big ladder on the other side of what's left of the pier. When that entertainment proved to be less than thrilling we tootled off only to be met by a gardening massacre. There are new huge tubs with a Silver Birch in each with flowers planted around them. They were fine when we passed them earlier, but in the space of an hour someone had uprooted some of the plants and thrown them on the floor to die.
Just after this between the pier and the Suncastle is a new play area, it used to be a paddling pool. It was full of adolescents, lots of them were drinking [it wasn't pop] and there were empty cans strewn around. Why don't their parents know where they are or what they're doing? If they do know, do they really care? and who is selling alcohol to children so young? [or fetching it on their behalf]. No-one dare say anything to these [very young] teenagers, there's far too many of them together. You daren't even look in their direction for fear of causing unnecessary trouble for yourself.
A few minutes later we passed the Suncastle where we stopped to watch some crumblies playing bowls, then we noticed three boys crashing through the bushes, deliberately breaking them down, they were about 10 or 11 years old. We continued on our way back muttering and moaning. We managed to get madam past her favourite chippy without resorting to too much violence.
Now I'm not suggesting that as children we were in any way perfect. We weren't [I came pretty damned close though]. It's fairly normal for a child to rebel and to see how far they can push authority. The big difference is, we as children DID recognise authority and once an adult told us off [any adult], we accepted it and went on our way suitably chastened, obviously muttering under our collective breath. What we didn't do was answer back or intimidate by our sheer numbers. We were instilled from an early age with respect for all adults. This respect for others and their property has all but vanished.
For some reason a lot of today's children believe that adults are simply a minor aggravation somewhere convenient in the background as a source of funds and an endless supply of the latest gadgets and designer gear. I blame children's television for a lot of this attitude. they nearly always portray adults as moronic, interfering, stick-in-the-mud dinosaurs and children are always, ALWAYS right and proved to be so on a daily basis.
I know these are only minor, trivial misdemeanours that I'm moaning about but where will it end, if these little vandals carry on getting away with doing what they like and not recognising right from wrong then in a few years time they'll be the one's revving up in the car parks [or worse] and racing around and nothing will be done about that until someone is tragically killed.
It's a shame that Skegness is abused by losers who think it's an achievement to get an ASBO. Skegness is just one town and I can only write about my own experiences but it's a safe bet that this abuse of communal [and private] property is occurring in every town in our country by the mindless minority who give a bad name to the rest of the youth of today ...
Monday, 11 May 2009
Asda Get Your Finger Out!
Come on Asda, hurry up with your planning application for Langley Mill, we want it passed as soon as possible so the bridge can be taken down on Bridge Street -
The reason why
Thursday night 1.30, I was in bed minding my own business listening to the DIESEL forklift trucks at PMB who work in some of the non-soundproofed Heanor Haulage buildings [tin shacks], when I heard several bangs.
I got up to have a look, opened the curtain a crack and a stone hit the window, it's a good job I have excellent bladder control for a 'near crumbly' or I'd have wet myself it was such a loud bang, in fact at first I thought it was a brick they'd used.
I phoned the police, spoke to a very nice lady who asked all the proper questions, unfortunately I couldn't give her many details as these are cowardly thugs who hide behind the bridge side so you can't see anything except the tops of their hoods and their hands throwing ammunition over.
They were raining pebbles over at the cars now that they'd run out of stones.
Obviously when the police came they'd gone over the bridge and disappeared.
Last Night 11.00
BANG!
Oh here we go again, then 3 eggs hit the front door, I watched them slide down the glass. Then the stones started, the little ba****ds must have taken a different route home this time as it was garden pea gravel they'd filled their pockets with.
Same routine - 999. Meanwhile my other half [who had planned this after Thursdays do] had got the hose pipe out and sprayed them with water, all the time they were throwing gravel at him. I went on the front then to wait for the police and they even threw it at me [how dare they?!]
The police to give them credit were very quick as they were close by.
After a bit of persuasion from us and our neighbours they gave them chase over the bridge where they were caught by more police waiting at the other end. Two police cars in the same area on a Sunday night - WOW!
My other half had gone over with the police with his little torch, he wanted to see their faces, he saw one and won't forget it, he's good at remembering people, me I have problems knowing who the woman in the mirror is in a morning.
There were 3 of them, no evidence of wrong doing on them, der! they'd used that.
Now this is the really annoying bit -
Policeman 1 who came back over the bridge with the 'thug waterer' - buying him a power washer!
"They're about 14 years old, 1 was crying, they'll be taken home and letters sent."
He then went in my neighbours house to discuss if they knew any reason why we were being targeted.
Policeman 2 who was then dropped off by the other police car -
"They're 17 & 18 but because there's no criminal damage done we've taken their names and let them go. They're not bad lads"
Me, disbelieving and spitting feathers -
"What do you mean they're not bad lads, you try living here, then tell me that!"
The conversation went on in a similar vein including that they'd thrown gravel at us and hit us but weren't hurt. I know as crimes go this is very trivial but to us it's not, it's distressing to say the least. My cat was terrified and trying to hide in a cupboard and my neighbours dog ended up with the squits.
Have you tried cleaning eggs off of a front door?? well no, me neither, I didn't clean it but I watched this morning as my grumpy old man struggled whilst muttering quite a lot, my neighbour came out and pointed out the little chips in our car windows and the bigger chip in her front window.
Anyway I'm not entirely satisfied with the police, the response was brilliant but the fact that they couldn't get their stories straight does not instil me with any sort of confidence.
I will be wanting a chat with 'cardboard Bob' at some point to see what he knows.
So Asda, get a move on before we set fire to the bridge ...
The reason why
Thursday night 1.30, I was in bed minding my own business listening to the DIESEL forklift trucks at PMB who work in some of the non-soundproofed Heanor Haulage buildings [tin shacks], when I heard several bangs.
I got up to have a look, opened the curtain a crack and a stone hit the window, it's a good job I have excellent bladder control for a 'near crumbly' or I'd have wet myself it was such a loud bang, in fact at first I thought it was a brick they'd used.
I phoned the police, spoke to a very nice lady who asked all the proper questions, unfortunately I couldn't give her many details as these are cowardly thugs who hide behind the bridge side so you can't see anything except the tops of their hoods and their hands throwing ammunition over.
They were raining pebbles over at the cars now that they'd run out of stones.
Obviously when the police came they'd gone over the bridge and disappeared.
Last Night 11.00
BANG!
Oh here we go again, then 3 eggs hit the front door, I watched them slide down the glass. Then the stones started, the little ba****ds must have taken a different route home this time as it was garden pea gravel they'd filled their pockets with.
Same routine - 999. Meanwhile my other half [who had planned this after Thursdays do] had got the hose pipe out and sprayed them with water, all the time they were throwing gravel at him. I went on the front then to wait for the police and they even threw it at me [how dare they?!]
The police to give them credit were very quick as they were close by.
After a bit of persuasion from us and our neighbours they gave them chase over the bridge where they were caught by more police waiting at the other end. Two police cars in the same area on a Sunday night - WOW!
My other half had gone over with the police with his little torch, he wanted to see their faces, he saw one and won't forget it, he's good at remembering people, me I have problems knowing who the woman in the mirror is in a morning.
There were 3 of them, no evidence of wrong doing on them, der! they'd used that.
Now this is the really annoying bit -
Policeman 1 who came back over the bridge with the 'thug waterer' - buying him a power washer!
"They're about 14 years old, 1 was crying, they'll be taken home and letters sent."
He then went in my neighbours house to discuss if they knew any reason why we were being targeted.
Policeman 2 who was then dropped off by the other police car -
"They're 17 & 18 but because there's no criminal damage done we've taken their names and let them go. They're not bad lads"
Me, disbelieving and spitting feathers -
"What do you mean they're not bad lads, you try living here, then tell me that!"
The conversation went on in a similar vein including that they'd thrown gravel at us and hit us but weren't hurt. I know as crimes go this is very trivial but to us it's not, it's distressing to say the least. My cat was terrified and trying to hide in a cupboard and my neighbours dog ended up with the squits.
Have you tried cleaning eggs off of a front door?? well no, me neither, I didn't clean it but I watched this morning as my grumpy old man struggled whilst muttering quite a lot, my neighbour came out and pointed out the little chips in our car windows and the bigger chip in her front window.
Anyway I'm not entirely satisfied with the police, the response was brilliant but the fact that they couldn't get their stories straight does not instil me with any sort of confidence.
I will be wanting a chat with 'cardboard Bob' at some point to see what he knows.
So Asda, get a move on before we set fire to the bridge ...
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