Thought I'd post up a poem that seems to sum up the general theme of this board at the moment: Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he's dead It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, They said. Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life And not waving but drowning. Stevie Smith
Nice poem, so that was where the phrase came from. There used to be a band in Dublin when I was much younger called 'Waving at Trains'. That just about sums up our predicament, train loads of strikers shooting past our station, only one managed to get off (PO) and we chucked him back on again!
