Scratch

Here you will find older scratches, musings and other detritus that once were located on the front pages, but have now faded.

Filed away here to collect dust and cobwwwebs in perpetuity, links may break, facts may change and data may corrupt.

On occasion I may come down here to tidy, but for the most, I prefer to leave the past where it lies.

Monthly Archives

01/10/2008 - 31/10/2008 01/09/2008 - 30/09/2008 01/08/2008 - 31/08/2008 01/07/2008 - 31/07/2008 01/06/2008 - 30/06/2008 01/05/2008 - 31/05/2008 01/04/2008 - 30/04/2008 01/03/2008 - 31/03/2008 01/02/2008 - 29/02/2008 01/01/2008 - 31/01/2008 01/12/2007 - 31/12/2007 01/11/2007 - 30/11/2007 01/09/2007 - 30/09/2007 01/08/2007 - 31/08/2007 01/07/2007 - 31/07/2007 01/06/2007 - 30/06/2007 01/05/2007 - 31/05/2007 01/04/2007 - 30/04/2007 01/03/2007 - 31/03/2007 01/02/2007 - 28/02/2007 01/01/2007 - 31/01/2007 01/12/2006 - 31/12/2006 01/11/2006 - 30/11/2006 01/10/2006 - 31/10/2006 01/09/2006 - 30/09/2006 01/08/2006 - 31/08/2006 01/07/2006 - 31/07/2006 01/06/2006 - 30/06/2006 01/05/2006 - 31/05/2006 01/04/2006 - 30/04/2006 01/03/2006 - 31/03/2006 01/02/2006 - 28/02/2006 01/01/2006 - 31/01/2006 01/12/2005 - 31/12/2005 01/11/2005 - 30/11/2005 01/10/2005 - 31/10/2005 01/09/2005 - 30/09/2005 01/08/2005 - 31/08/2005 01/07/2005 - 31/07/2005 01/06/2005 - 30/06/2005 01/05/2005 - 31/05/2005 01/04/2005 - 30/04/2005 01/03/2005 - 31/03/2005 01/02/2005 - 28/02/2005 01/01/2005 - 31/01/2005 01/12/2004 - 31/12/2004 01/11/2004 - 30/11/2004 01/10/2004 - 31/10/2004 01/09/2004 - 30/09/2004 01/08/2004 - 31/08/2004 01/07/2004 - 31/07/2004 01/06/2004 - 30/06/2004 01/05/2004 - 31/05/2004 01/04/2004 - 30/04/2004 01/03/2004 - 31/03/2004 01/02/2004 - 29/02/2004

 

Technical Fault

So, having done my good charitable deed for the day at my own expense, I head to the train toget home and hopefully enjoy what should be the remaining 2 hours of my half day.

The train pulls out the station and begins its merry way towards Finsbury Park. After a few minutes, the train pulls up just short of the station and we sit and wait.

And wait.

Some time goes by and a rather meak voice comes over the tannoy announcing that

due to technical problems, the train is currently being held outside of Finsbury Park, but enginers are looking to see if they can resolve the problem.

At about this time, a FCC employee who happened to be sitting next to me goes to the carriage door at the end of the train in first class as we can hear voices outside.

Some more time passes. An irate gentlemen ends his phone call that he has been kindly sharing / with us, stomps down the carriage full of self importance* and demands to know what is happening.

It is at this point the guard rather nonchalantly turns and says,

well, we appear to have lost half the train, so we are just waiting for the ok to move.

Is that really a technical issue, or just plain carelessness? And to be fair, if we had made it that far without the back, was it really that important anyway?

Presumably for anyone on it, perhaps rolling gently to Kings Cross, then they might feel differently.

The Best Laid Plans

It was a relatively simple plan. Get the 703 to Finsbury Park, change to the Victoria Line to Euston hop to work, pick up my camera, and do the reverse getting the 750something home walking through the door about 830 bringing croissants and coffee for bonus points.

There were however some flaws.

The Victoria line isn't running today. Adapting to this I took the Piccadilly line to Russell Sq. But that's closed. Only that wasn't announced until after the tube doors shut at Kings Cross. After walking from Holborn, I picked up my camera and walked to Kings Cross.

Having ordered said bonus inducing items, it became apparant I didn't have my wallet. Walking back to work, getting security to let me into my building, picking up my wallet and returning to Kings Cross where I now find myself waiting on the 852. Already an hour late and the day hasn't started for most people.

Well I suppose it can't get worse. Right?

Fare Jumpers

So there I was, sitting on the train after on the way back from another day in purgatory and to compound matters in the far off distance I can see a ticket inspector working his way up the train. Knowing that he isn't going to take my word for it I dig my wallet out, since they tend not to be the most patient of people, and wait. As I wait the person next to me starts rummaging through their pockets, then their bags... I show my ticket and the Inspector hovers waiting the person next to me. Perhaps it was obvious what was going to happen when she reluctantly removed her bag to let me sit down, harrumphing all the while.

I'm sorry I can't seem to find it, I know I had it here. Oh, that old chestnut

I used it on the bus earlier. Hah, if that were the case, then why do you have a separate bus ticket amongst the lint and Werther's Original!

Erm, no I don't have receipt as I must have thrown it away.More lies! You never had a receipt because you are jumping the fare like the criminal low life you are!

Well can't you just let me off? The audacity of it! I don't pay my season ticket to have spongers like you leeching off me.

I almost felt angry enough to pipe up when the ticket inspector only charged her the £20 penalty fare, not the £35 it should've been. If it was down to me she would've been picking herself up off the platform at Stevenage and starting to to walk to St Neots. Floggings to good for these people.

Looking back in hindsight now, the shifty eyes and walking stick were a giveaway*. A career criminal, no doubt picking the pockets of young innocent hoodies in London.

Photos

I really need to rejig this site, specifically the photos. Compression screws things over something chronic, and option are the order of the day.

Perhaps its time to start with a clean slate.

White and Nerdy

Sifting through iTunes, listening to Weird Al, and I began to wonder just how White and Nerdy I was. A short google later I kinda regret the thought....

How White and Nerdy Are You?

I don't think I'm gonna be rolling with the gangstas anytime soon.

Flowers

Whilst walking to my office, I noticed a flower delivery that has been sitting in the mail collection since the middle of last week. Given they were wilted and dying if not already dead, I am presuming that the apology was not accepted.

Ho Hum

Whilst there isn't much else new in life*, the trailer for Doghouse is out. Jake West directing a Daniel Schaffer script. On a similar note, my copy of Dogwitch: Mood Swings finally arrived some two years after ordering so that seemed like a good omen.

Dorian Gray

Went to the ballet earlier and caught the matinee performance of Matthew Bourne ’s Dorian Gray. I would wholeheartedly recommend seeing it, but seeing as its on a limited run with the last performance startinmg in little over an hour, I guess its a mute point.

Really quite looking forward to Edward Scissorhands. Presumably there will be less lifts from the eponymous character than in Dorien Gray.

Stecky

The Bride arrived on time, the sun was shining, the groom was wearing a skirt, what more could be said. The service went well after which we retired to the reception venue where much food and drink was consumed. Speeches were spoken, merriment was had, more drink was drunk and then dancing was, erm, danced

The next day was spent resting, swimming, and eating and drinking before finishing off with some billiards.

A lovely weekend all in all.

Church Time

Stu has 3hrs 10mins of single life left. As I struggle into my waistcoat I wonder how he is doing. I also hope the trafic will be better for Becky than it was for us. Fingers crossed.

The Road To Hell

...or the M25 as its more commonly known.

Of the two hour journey so far, the last one hour forty five minutes worth have seen us travel the grand distance of about 200 yards, if that. Knowing that the traffic 'incident' is two junctions away i am not hopeful of a swift resolution.

The irony is not lost on me that less that 20 yards in front of me, quietly burning its image into my retinas, is a temporary speed restriction of 50mph.

I wish.

EDIT: 15/08/2008 23:55 - Hmmm. Original estimated journey time 1hr30mins. Actual time 4hrs15mins. I think my eyes are melting. One piece of good fortune was that as we got to the scene of the 'incident', they had literally picked up the first cone so we were the first car allowed back on the now clear vacant road. I wouldn't have been overly cheered to have been sent off across country lanes. In retospect I am kinda glad that a BMW shoved in front of me.

Dinners Ready

Ah. There is nothing like coming home to warm cooked meal thats been lovingly prepared. I however came home to the remains of a a bird carefully laid out in the kitchen, the floor literally awash with feathers.

Bless kittenage..

Finally

I have direction. I have a goal. At least as far as photos go.

Now its just the implementing part.

Michael Turner

RIP Michael Turner, a truly gifted artist and writer.

Return Of The Bathroom

I started writing up my last bathroom decoration about a year ago, but decided it was crap. Having spent all day under the bath fitting a 2.0 bar pump after having sworn off plumbing for as long as I could foreseeably manage, I thought I might try to recap last years escapades.

Having approached it almost with hindsight and less emotion, I am forced to say, its still crap.

Read on if you want. Or not.

About eighteen months ago I started work on what I hoped would be a relatively straightforward redecoration of the bathroom in our flat. Four days in, the old suite was replaced, the tiles gone, albeit with two layers of plasterboard that were either intrinsically bonded or dissolving, and we were down to chipboard on the floor. About a week after that I had modified all the piping to have wall mounted taps and controls and at the same time taking the opportunity of running the shower pipes behind the lack of wall.

To coin a movie phrase, time passed. The plasterboard went up. A built in cupboard was, erm, built in*. The tiles started to go up. Relatively early on I regreted the decision to go with 400mm² tiles on the basis they would go up quicker as almost every 4th tile needed cutting and diamond blades ain't cheap, nor are they the quietest thing, and whilst I know my neighbours wouldn't offer me the same courtesy but I tried to avoid using a bench saw after about 8pm. Also, with regard the taps, contols and shower head, to get a good finish would require first drilling through and then using a jigsaw with carbide blades which would take about two hours a tile to get right**. That and the fact my tiling skills, to me anyway, felt as though I was actually tiling with humous. Oh, and there was also the case of the disappearing Ikea pencils. If I had a penny for every pencil I had lost***, I would have lots of pennies, but not any useful tools to mark tiles.

Anyway, the short is it took about four months for me to practically complete the room. Hand on my heart, I am pretty sure I did actually finish before we moved out.

Weak

Ok. The mind and in this case, the liver were willing, but in the aftermath, the body is found to be wanting and weak. Damn quad bikes.

Driving a car after playing in rage buggies is quite a novel experience.

The Clock Has Ticked

Well, after a grueling 4 hour day primarily spent putting off til tomorrow, well Monday, what I could probably have done today, its off to overcast Bristol for a weekend. Ah, tis a brave groom that lets his stag take place in an area with scrumpy that you can't see through let alone cut with a knife.

Although my liver is screaming no, and possibly it knows/remembers better than I, let the games begin. Cry havoc...

Mummy It Burns

I've spent half the night fidgeting trying to get comfy. The room is oppressively hot, there is no air movement and even if there was I couldn't sniff a sausage* through my blocked nose. I am lying on my back staring at the ceiling. In a fit of for the love of God I reach out for the bottle of Sinex nasal spray on the bedside table, hoping it will help. In the dark I remove the cap, place the bottle and simultaneously sniff and squeeze.

In hindsight, sitting up may have been preferable, as 10ml of Sinex flooding straight into the nasal cavity burns somewhat, not to mention tastes awful as it overflows into the mouth.

Damn gravity

iWake

Nothing like dozing off on a train with an iPod in your hand and then accidentally maximising the volume to make you look like an insane loon.

Succession

Sixty second in line to the throne is HRH The Crown Prince of Norway King Harald V.

A Mobile Life

I remember when I got my first mobile, not necessarily the exact details (me being at the end of my second year of University) but most of the facts. The where was Chatterbox Telecom - 184a Cowley Rd, Oxford. The who was John. The what was an Orange badged Motorola StarTAC. The when was 15 May 1998 (10 years ago today) and the why... well thats one of the facts I can't quite remember.

They were heady days. Texting the three or so other people we knew with phones to see if they had escaped from their 10am lecture in sufficient time to be in a position to stand at the bar and order at 11am*.

Time passed, and the numbers with phones that we knew rose into double figures. I remember the conversations when 'The Matrix' came out, and everyone marveled at the bananaphone which was quickly redesigned into the Nokia 7110 which if memory serves**, I think Stu was the first to get. He was also I believe the first to break it. On a reassuring note, even with the Navi wheel as it was then, he has never escalated into a crackberry, though he now has an iPhone...

Over the decade that would follow I have been through, by my counting 2 free replacements, 5 upgrades and 2 freebies. There would be shares of ups and downs. Happiness and sadness can be transmitted from or to wherever you were. The flaw in the plan is the word 'mobile' always there, ready to bleep when you least want it to to make or break your day... I would say when you least expect it, but I guess by definition it will only beep when you are staring at it really not wanting it to and so that means you are expecting it, or perhaps in some sixth sense-esque way making it ring.***

Ignoring the cost to ones sanity, relationships and general well being, one key element however can be quantified.. the cost to the pocket. Before I divulge this cost lets see what milestones I have 'achieved'.

Over the last ten years, I have:

• Talked for a total of 26 Days, 13 hours and 50 minutes
of which
• June 2001 was the highest with 20h, 53m & 30s;
• Febuary 2006 was the lowest with 29m & 44s;
and
• the average being 5h, 19m & 07s

• Texted a total of 30,028 message
of which
• November 1999 was the highest with a staggering 1032 texts (which also accounted for the longest bill of 29 pages, compared to the average 9 and lowest being 2);
• March 2006 was the lowest with 14 texts;
and
• the average is an unhealthy 250 texts a month (although if you only go back 5 years the average is a marginally better 77 texts a month)

These are just differing scales of markers on the road that is my mobile life. They are more easily resolved against other peoples mobile lives as they do not change with time - a minute or a text are exactly that whatever phone you have or whatever plan/network you are on. There is another set of markers however that we traditionally put more weight and relevance on:

• July 2007 was the cheapest bill at £22.20;
• October 1999 was the most expensive bill at £207.46;
and
• the average is £63.62 (although for the past 5 years this drops to £40.36)

The cost though, the bottom line cost, for the long calls to friends, the arrangements to meet down the pub, the moral support, the wrong numbers, the condolences and the celebrations, the memories - both good and bad, the accidentally leaning on the phone and calling the police, the replacement handsets... the sum total of my mobile life to date is £7884.70.

Not a small amount by any means. Whilst not wishing to change the past, I shall however be bearing this in mind for the future as I watch to see what other devices (crumpet toaster anyone?) can be added to phones... When I first got a phone you could (just about) make calls and send texts, now, you can do a hell of a lot more, take photos, watch tv, replicate PC functions... ...If only I could get a signal at work.

As a closing note, if you are interested, you can click here and see a graph of my minutes, texts and bill totals...

Remember kids, practice safe text.

100% Recycled Paper

Is a good thing. Don't get my wrong. If you still need to send hard copies then recycled paper and that obtained from a sustainable/maintained forest is the way to go.

Advertising literature and donation forms... there has to be a better and more environmentally friendly way...

...especially for the Woodland Trust.

Summer

Summer must almost be here. I can tell. Yesterday was a glorious day which I spent pottering around doing DIY, gardening before, having looked at the sky, that it was time to polish the car and remove the hardtop.

An hour later, the car is back to the racing green it should be rather than the mudtrack brown it was and the softtop is up and a healthy consistent blank.

Approximately twelve hours later, it is exactly the same, just with small pools of water covering it.

Swing Of Things

Its strange, after two weeks of not be able to do much on the site, first because of decorating and secondly because of a trip overseas, it is rather difficult to get back into the swing of things. I suppose its actually the accumulation of lots of things that need sorting and buckling down to do so.

...and then there is the 1351 photos to be vetted.

Less Guitar Hero, More Average Session Musician

I presume like many an aspiring musician in the formation of a band, the choice of which instrument you end up with is defined by both what the other, better, musicians can play, and also what instrument can be afforded*.

As such I find myself using the Wiimote to play the bass part.

Now don't get me wrong, whilst not quite as glamourous as wanging around a lead guitar, its about the participating and a bass guitar, however small in this instance, is still a core element of a band...

I know its not about appearances, but perhaps I would feel more rock n roll if I stood up. Or perhaps took off my slippers. Only the other day I was watching some footage of Queen and saw John Deacon wearing a tank top whilst on stage....

Memory Lane

Took a couple of trips down memory lane over the last few days. On Thursday I revisited the Old Doctor Butler's Head for a few drinks after work, albeit not with the friends I went with on my last visit. Then yesterday we went to a 60s themed party at the Half Moon in Bishop's Stortford which is near a school the wife of one of the aforementioned friends attended and had her 21st. I have never seen so many Beatles in one room, the 60s party not the 21st, and there was a guy there who was the spitting image of John Lennon circa late 60s early 70s. Actually the outfit and facial hair were a bit too convincing and I suspect he always dresses like that, whether as a concious decision or out of poverty, I do not know.

Hopefully we'll be seeing said friends in a little over a month. Woot.

Its Ok. Its Camden

Earlier today I had to go across London for work and on the way back I stopped off at Camden as I had some bits to pick up. Now whilst I don't mind the tube, I wouldn't say its in my top 10 of places to spend time in, and certainly in the interests of personal survival not somewhere I would care to share both intimate time and flesh with it. Its not the cleanest of places, what with the dirt, dustand detritus of everyday life, and thats before the world and his dog has wiped any number of biological excretions on pretty much every surface imaginable. And then some.

Now, I understand that Camden has an eclectic mix of people and draws people from lots of disparate places together. One such individual as we were walking along the platform walked up to a poster for The Other Boleyn Girl and proceeded to lick Scarlett_Johansen's face before uttering 'If you and Natalie [Portman] play your cards right you could have me' to which the young girl next to me quietly said to her rather astonished friend 'Its ok. Its Camden. People do that here.'

Presumably not after catching something like tetanus or ebola.

Its Ok. Its Camden

Earlier today I had to go across London for work and on the way back I stopped off at Camden as I had some bits to pick up. Now whilst I don't mind the tube, I wouldn't say its in my top 10 of places to spend time in, and certainly in the interests of personal survival not somewhere I would care to share both intimate time and flesh with it. Its not the cleanest of places, what with the dirt, dustand detritus of everyday life, and thats before the world and his dog has wiped any number of biological excretions on pretty much every surface imaginable. And then some.

Now, I understand that Camden has an eclectic mix of people and draws people from lots of disparate places together. One such individual as we were walking along the platform walked up to a poster for The Other Boleyn Girl and proceeded to lick Scarlett_Johansen's face before uttering 'If you and Natalie [Portman] play your cards right you could have me' to which the young girl next to me quietly said to her rather astonished friend 'Its ok. Its Camden. People do that here.'

Presumably not after catching something like tetanus or ebola.

Mental Note

Otters live in Holts. Much ridiculed was I last night whilst playing cranium and this gap appeared in my knowledge.

Still won though. :)

Science(ish) In Action

In a completely unregulated, unsupervised and generally unscientific trial, I will shorty be able to report categorically whether ingestion of a female oral contraceptive by a recently neutered male cat prevents conception by the test subject.

Less apparent will be whether the contemporaneous ingestion of anti-histamines reduces the as of yet non-apparent allergic reaction he may have to himself.

That Which Doesn't Kill You, Erm... Hurts Like F**K

Throughout the course of a lifetime, there are many trials to be undertaken, tribulations* to overcome and pain to be felt.

No doubt we have all experienced the yearning pain of unrequited love, the emptiness following the passing of a friend or family member, the sting of betrayal, and my current favorite, the lesser known but still popular burning sensation associated with not attaching the top of the blender when pureeing boiling soup**.

Induhviduals Strike Back

Following my earlier post another pearl of wisdom from one of my colleagues. We were talking about rolling out a new service that has been in the pipeline for a year or two, and one of my colleagues piped up to say that the people she represents were 'panting at the bit' in anticipation.

Given I know our service levels and they aint that good, I can only imagine some tragic S&M session going wrong.

Truly Frightning

Just think back to my earlier post about visiting the Terracotta army and something amusing popped up from my memory. When Sal mentioned that she was going to one of her work colleagues, he responded with 'So these Terracotta Warriors you're going to see... are they a band?'

Its a good argument for some sort IQ benchmark related steralisation.

The First Emperor: China's Terracotta Army

On Friday night, we went to see the The First Emperor: China's Terracotta Army at the British Museum. Although it could never capture the awe inspiring site you would see in China, being able to get up close and see the intricate detail and craftmanship is breathtaking. Much like The Times' review it is well worth visiting.

The one criticism I would have is that even at 9pm, it was very busy, and the layout sometimes made it difficult to move around, but I guess thats always going to be an issue if things are really popular.

Karma

So, its the early hours, you have a day at home whilst your other half is going into work, so you do the nice thing of offering them a lift to the station. Do you:

• a) get up and dressed as you usually do; or
• b)quickly dart to the car wearing your sleep attire with an additional fluffy dressing gown seeing as its bloody early/bloody dark and noone will see you,

Needless to say people saw.

Listermint

I didn't know that Listermint has a best before date. I only discovered this the other day as I was casually looking at the recently-found-ex-student-days bottle I have been using up.

Presumably it just gets better with age, although if I am honest I cannot taste the difference.

Induhvidual

In the style of a Dilbert induhvidual, a work colleague and I were talking about a project when he referred to an issue as the 'fly in the ocean.'

I pointed out that if that were the case, I probably wouldn't worry.

Listerine

Apparently it has an expiry date. I just thought it always tasted nasty.

Bleurgh

Don't know about you but I feel rather rotund.

Hope Santa was good to you.

Merry Christmas

One and all. Time to head to the kitchen...

Caroling

...at rugby club this eve, which is neither silent nor Holy.

Have fun kids and enjoy Christmas.

Busyness

I've noticed of late that things really aren't slowly down in the run up to Christmas, the pedal is firmly to the metal and there is the slightest hint of creaking. Work is still busy and aint gonna get any better particularly soon. A while ago we had an attempted break in, someone going to the effort of angle grinding through some security grills before they were disturbed. Luckily they didnt get anything, but its an ongoign concern this close to Christmas. Home is really starting to feel like home, albeit for the average eskimo family. The benefit of living on a top floor flat, well our old one anyway, surrounded on all sides by people of varying race and socio-economic background was that there was always, and I mean always, either the heat from cooking, or the combined heat of lots of people going about their daily lives. An end of terraced house has little such benefits, and having moved into the burbs, there isnt even enough concrete around to retain what little heat the sun kicks out.

Although of late I haven't done anything thats really out of the ordinary (time seems to still be slipping through my fingers*, I have learnt several things recently. Our car now costs £45 to fill compared with the large 4x4 BMWs (which was adjacent to me at the pumps) adjacent which take in excess of £85 to fill a tank. They do this by having a clip that keeps the gun 'on' thereby allowing you to sit in the car blissfuly unawares as the car drinks its fill (and then some) of the worlds remaining oil. Slightly unrelated, I quite like curtain shopping (admittedly we were actually bed shopping, and I was side tracked into performing ad-hoc curtain browsing). Belt sanders are worth their weight in gold... ...or if not gold, then certainly their weight in elbow grease. Kittens love Christmas, specifically the baubles on the tree, the pretty tassles on the wrapping... and they show their love at every opportunity using their fangs.

Spose I should go and get something to eat and perhaps think about uploading a photo.

Or maybe bed (with only five more nights till the new one arrives).