Scratch

* It was the one where Eggs father turns up.

* Something more to aspire to than actually meet I believe.

* Be it vertical or horizontal.

* Other than I think I have just inadvertently finished eating a half eaten wotsit that Schrödinger dropped earlier..

** Monday being a bit snowy.

* and its not like I am going short.

* I lie. I have cats. And they are most likely tucked up in their baskies at home.

* Kittens, like kids, are far more interested in wrapping or a piece of string than any toy you can buy for them.

Please Excuse Me

I am not good with heights. This is no real secret. Climbing I can handle, but the second I can appreciate the verticle drop, well its break out the sweats, shakes, dizziness and throw in a dose of stomach churning nausea for good measure.

Strangely I never expected to be quietly sitting in a corner office meeting on the 8th floor of the building, and inadvertently manage to convince myself the building was about to topple. Now don't get me wrong, this wasn't a sudden thing. It took a good ten minutes after I began to think the horizon/floor were not longer quite in alignment before I had to excuse myself and leave the meeting for, well, the remainder of the meeting.

To be fair, I think its the oddest reason for leaving a meeting that I have ever used* to date.

Chilly

I am no stranger to the cold. I have spent nights sleeping on the side of snow covered mountains and countless more days than I can remember playing rugby in both the driving rain or the frost. Never did I begrudge the weather as it had every right to do what it liked, and if I didn't like it I could slope off with my crampons/boots, erm not between my legs but you get the idea, and admit defeat.

I object however to the cold invading my home/garage and making my red wine chilly. Yes, technically it is room temperature, but thats not the point. As a side point I also object in a more minor fashion to the cold invading my porch as making all our clothes chilly come the morning. I know its not just me because when went into the porch this morning, the snow I trampled in last night was still there.

Hrumph.

Normal Service Resumes

Its shortly after 5, I can feel the coffee in my veins. In a final goodbye to Christmas I have foregone a traditional breakfast in favour of some Christmas pudding muffins.

Outside the snow is on the ground. I can vaguely make out the kittens outside trying to both collect all the snow whilst simultaneously trying to not actually leave any foot on the ground for any longer than absolutely necessary.

Would be nice to see how they get on, but places, albeit still without heating and electricity, to go.

New Years

Four days in and 2009 has been relatively good so far. I have managed to catch up on some sleep and the time off from work has been well spent in the most. I am not making specific resolutions this year, merely attempting to try and be more productive and efficient. I am slowly compiling a list of things I am going to try and do each day, as well as some wants rather than needs for the coming year. I am also going to try and spend less/save more, although, and its not entirely my fault, I have already failed this rather impressively*. I have also managed to identify and solve the condensation in the loft problem, so that should help prevent the roof collapsing which is always good.

I am relatively ambivalent to work tomorrow, which is probably better than it was towards the end of last year when it was getting a bit bleurgh. I was hopeful that this Christmas break would pass without incident, unlike the past three years. 6am this morning said otherwise when it all went a bit tits. Luckily it is still in the hands of the grid, so my hands are currently tied as they will hopefully remain so until at least 9pm when its not worth going in *fingers crossed*. I am really not looking forward to the alarm clock going off however. At 9am this morning it was about freezing. I don't want to know what its gonna be at 530 tomorrow morning.

Generally though, it'll be interesting to see what 2009 brings. :)

Technology Is Getting The Better Of Me

I have inadvertently become old. Well no, perhaps not old in the traditional sense of clinging to the technologies of the past whilst still being technically older, I am either more demanding or just want foir a simple life. Case in point, whilst I can probably program the video recorder and can also probably use my phone to do so albeit at some cost*, I cannot just type something out, hit enter thus simultaneously making my video record at the appropriate time and also send me a reminder of why I cannot watch the program because I am doing something else.

Not only is technology is getting away from me in terms of what I can do in whatever language is best suited, I cannot even settle on the best technology to begin thinking about getting things done.

At home I use Outlook for everything. At work I use Thunderbird for email and Oracle Calendar for my diary and tasks. In between I have my phone which pulls contacts from Outlook with ActiveSync and tasks/diary from Oracle with SyncML. I don't pull tasks/diary from home for fear of inadvertently dumping my personal life into the corporate arena for all and sundry to marvel/laugh at**. I have used** Remember The Milk, in combination with Twitter, and still sporadically do so, but RTM doesn't play well with Outlook and a cursory glance at the Interweb only reveals me needing something like OutTwit to achieve some semblance of compatability for Twitter/Outlook. I also use text files and simple perl to update things either by hand or, at work, dynamically by whatever piece of kit it is that needs my attention. Whilst this data is generally only modifiable on whatever computer is running the script I can, and do, have it send copies via SMS and email to various places which should let me know of problems. Sometimes they even arrive...

I have multiple mail accounts, POP3 and IMAP4, that Outlook can just about deal with including with Google / Windows Live. Both now offer calendars, tasks, contacts and links to their own blogging areas, but IMHO for the benefits of 'ubiquitous' access, there is some tradeoff in security and control, however small. Both of these now offer diaries that are not compatable with all of my home, work or phone as presently stands, but both now offer storage (the latter 25Gb), I probably need something like Gladinet to best make use of the free online storage for backups, which I have currently set up in a piece meal fashion using different technologies to copy certain files somewhere one day, recopy them another day etc etc.

This site, hosted on a machine not three feet behind me rather than a third party host, uses Movable type which has twitter plugins, but only from the backend side, and nothing I can use to dynamically update this site aswell. I have now switched to Digsby for my IM needs from Trillian to maintain an easy interface to facebook and twitter as the former doesn't support command line, and I generally neglect to log into either. I have to do both seperately but at least they are now on the same taskbar. Neither is supported in Tarpipe but its something that might be the way forward.

Is it too much to ask for a simple, secure interface that links chunks of me on the web together and replicates data this way and that? Perhaps I should stick with pen, paper, a photocopier and Royal mail...

Rant over-ish. Going to bed no better than when I was starting to think about all this to increase my productivity some 5 hours ago.

EDIT: 04/12/2008 19:05: Seems like I am not the only one to think about Personal Syndication Overload.

Cars

I have never professed to knowing much about cars, but this weekend just hammered home how little. Since erm, someone , left the car door open over night in the garage I had to charge the battery. After about twenty minutes of searching under the bonnet I caved and looked at the manual.

Who puts a battery in the boot. I ask you.

The Balance

Thank God for my general state of apathy. Without it I'd be more concerned about my to-do lists becoming quite unmanageable. Que cera.

Glass Half Empty

At some point in recent history, various work colleagues* have started using me as the litmus test for the glass being half empty, and not just being bordeline. I am truly viewed as someone who considers themselves as having to go to the bar shortly because no other bastard is going to fill his glass for him.

According to my contemporaries, no longer am I the optimistic youth I once was. Seven years have apparently converted me into a pessimist who views the world with cynicism. I would say that this might bother me, but luckily the will to live has been systematically drawn from my withered carcass.

Even I can see that in the seven years I have workled in my current job, whilst there may be only marginally more minor ups than downs, I can say with full optimism, that I am seven years closer to retirement than when I started.

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.

Sweepy

Hmmm. Better sleep. Not sure I agree with Dali's reasoning behind number 3, although if someone wants to try it out, I am willing to listen. Presumably as you can substitute a spoon for a set of keys anything that makes a noise the second you drop off should work. For those of you with kids aged 0 - 2 years I am looking at you.

A Chorus Of Seals

Gah. Now after a throwaway comment, all I can hear when I listen to Verve's Love Is Noise is Richard Ashcroft and his chorus of harbour seals all calling.

The Ties That Bind

Perhaps I need to wear shirt, suit, ties more often. Its disturbing that as I go to fish out my black tie, it was in fact the last tie I wore. My suit is turning into a funeral suit.

Thinking. Still

Obviously, my mind is somewhat preoccupied... What I had meant to mention was a link I followed from Lifehacker, which discussed technological inventions not yet realised, and one of them was this mobile internet tablet/scanner-esque device. Looking at it, it prompted some faint synapse connection in the ol' grey matter for the Microsoft Surface technology.

Ironically watching the video, whilst I was absorbed by what is essentially marketing, all I could think of was, I wish I could get my Microsoft technology to wirelessly connect and share data full stop without pins and retrys and dropped connections. Anyway, thinking about it, how if it is all connecting wirelessly, does a table know what particular phone is placed ontop of it. Ok it may register a phone shaped object, but if there are several on the table, all idenitical models, I fail to see how the object recognition works.

Anyway, I guess what actually really matters is if you can play pong on it.

Thinking.

As I am sure I have pointed out, I have been busy of late. True, this probably isn't busy compared to having a new life to care for, a new bride to wed, or a job to find*, but busy enough not to have been able to put my finger on anything significant I have done at home after work, whether it be DIY, update this site, sit and edit photos etc. However, I sit here with an empty wine bottle, a half written report I wonder actually whether the converse has been true. Perhaps I haven;'t been busy enough. I used to post, or at least I think I did, more in the early hours, or at least when I had ready access to a computer**. Digressing as I am***, if I was staying up later to write reports I should have the time to do at work more often, I wouldn't be able to write round beaking insights into my life as this comment is turning out to be.

Just a thought.

Photos

The problem with going through literally years and years worth of photos is that the passage of time is much more noticeable, which is not always a good thing.*

Michael Turner

RIP Michael Turner, a truly gifted artist and writer.

Glasto

Having just finished watching Jay-Z's Glastonbury appearance, two things strike me. First, and without actually being there so sans atmosphere it looked an ok headliner, but nothing like Radiohead or Muse of previous years. Secondly, the market in Dennis Tayler-esque glasses is going to soar, especially I suspect in thin ill looking white guys wearing baggy jeans.

Abandon All Hope

Dante's Divine Comedy depicts an allegorical vision of the Christian afterlife, showing the three areas:

• Inferno - Nine circles with the last three being split into three rings, ten bolgias and four zones respectively - eternal suffering and torment in varying degrees ;
• Purgatorio* - Two pre-terrace, erm, terraces, 7 terraces and a seperate garden, erm, terrace - essentially an honor system allowing you to leave a terrace once you believe you have atoned for you sins*; and
• Paradiso - nine spheres of Heaven based upon your devotion to God;

One area that in my mind seems to have been omitted is the level, presumably transcending Hell and Purgatory, that looks mysteriously like a large concert hall. Therein lies a single solitary SingStar microphone where individuals take it in turns under the blazing lights to sing songs they don't know in vocal ranges they don't have. Slightly above them, and in rather too close proximity to the stage lighting, is a small cramped mezzanine level where people sit on uncomfortable stools and listen to the performers.

As to which area is Purgatory and which is Hell I am unsure, nor do I know what sins the poor individuals would have committed to deserve such punishment. I just know, neither option really appeals.

'You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave...'

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.

Ooooh

If it wasn't for the fact I am currently receiving treatment on my back, I would be more concerned by the fact every time I sneeze I get pins and needles in my legs followed by a short period of numbness.

Its All Going To Be Ok

I don't know why I remembered this image courtesy of Warren Ellis. Perhaps I need to cut back on coffee and crises at work.

Also got me thinking about whether to hold out for an oversized collected edition of Transmetropolitan or just buy the individual trades. And on the subject of commercialism that I wasn't, but Spider Jerusalem's was, here is a digital interpretation - 'Monoculture'.

GTA IV Influences Violence. And Queuing

After reading the BBC News article entitled 'Stab attack at Grand Theft Queue' I was left with a curious thought. If a man is passionate enough about his gaming and obviously British enough to queue up in an orderly fashion for several hours to buy a game at midnight, I cannot understand what could possibly make him voluntarily leave his place to stab someone seemingly at random. Even bearing in mind that the Police might not turn up and arrest him before the shop still opens, he is still going to have to rejoin at the back of the queue or face a unending barrage of hushed 'tsk-ing' muttered in his general direction until he leaves like a social pariah.

The British public may turn a blind eye to a stabbing less than a few yards from them, but pushing back into a queue you have clearly left is just not happening, not without serious social consequences. Perhaps slap someone with a glove and make arrangements for a later date, but leave a queue?

Seriously though, the Johnny Cash song 'Don't Take Your Guns To Town' seems pretty apt. With respect to the game, I suspect there would be less uproar if it had been for release of a new My Little Pony. I can see the news headline now, Man beaten with saddle recovers in hospital...

Edit 30 Apr 2007 13:47:According to The Register however

A hooded male stabbed another man in the head and neck yesterday as they both queued to buy copies of Grand Theft Auto IV from a Croydon Gamestation store... it’s thought that the two men were just rude to one another.

The victim managed to survive the ordeal - and stumbled home to grab a knife for a revenge attack. However, he collapsed in the street on his way back to the store.

Perhaps its the people who play the game that are to blame rather than the game itself. If you can't differentiate between pixels and real life...

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....

A Bad Influence

So I was watching TMF earlier, and the video for Footloose by Kenny Loggins came on. Ok, nothing wrong so far. Angst ridden Kevin Bacon with 80s hair - check. Dancing - check. Alcohol - check. Car - check. Cigarette dangling from lips - fail.

So its ok to show a angst ridden teenager drinking and driving, but not smoking. Holding a cigarette yes. Putting it to his lips, no. Strangely enough, this also happened to Sandy later when singing You're The One That I Want. She appeared to be sucking on a small cloud, but as she removed it, it was replaced by a cigarette which she threw to the floor.

Curiouser and uriouser said Alice, presumably whilst not smoking.

Gone

Today saw the passing of Arthur C. Clarkeand Anthony Mingella. Both will be sadly missed.

This Is Not Just A Voiceover...

Just a random thought, who would you rather have whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the M&S voiceover woman, or the Orange Answerphone woman...

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.

Catalogue Shopping

The other day I was leafing through a furniture catalogue to try and get some ideas for shelving and sitting in the comfort of my own, home with a cup of tea, I found myself drawn to things I didn't want, didn't need and if I had seen in a crowded shop would have trusted my gut instincts, dismissed it and moved on without a second thought.

In a catalogue there is no such pressure.

I desired things, and was interested only because they were less crap than the things that surrounded them and there were hundreds of pages of such tat, and that is not the way to go about shopping. In the end, having decided that I didn't want to either waste my time and risk filling the house with utter shite from catalogues, I resorted to searching for misspelled items of undesirableness on eBay.

Don't ask me why.

Monday Mornings

Monday mornings are always a difficult time. Generally two days of not working, getting up late follewd by an early start is always a recipe for disaster. Or at least comedy.

Take this morning.

For the last couple of days I have been stumbling every once in a while. I figured it was a hangover (quite literally) of my boss going away for a couple of days, but as I tripped over and dived down the work corridor throwing the contents of my bag, which I happened to be looking through, everywhere. Luckily it was a bit before 7:30, so only the cleaner was there to snigger. Thinking enough was enough, I resolved to either stop feeling crap of a morning, or fix my foot. Luckily it was my foot, or rather my boot that was broken in so far as the sole was coming away at the row. Reaching up to get some 2 part epoxy I carefully filled the tip of the shoe, and gently putting pressure to hold it together, got on with checking my mail.

About fifteen minutes later, I stood up and realised that I was either getting weaker in my old age, or I had accidentally glued my foot to the floor. Annoyingly, as I gently pulled my foot it was the adhesive between the upper and the sole which gave first, only excacerbating things.

With a start like this, the week can only get better.

Tired

I am always amazed by how tired and lethargic I am of a morning after I have been drinking the night before, even if it wasn't much.

Guess I am just getting old.

Hmmm Chinesey Goodness

I knew having a relation who owns a chinese delivery service would come in handy.

Might have to roll off to bed soon.

RIP Heath

You shall be missed.

Poo Sticks

Well at least my optimism and entusiams for the new year lasted three working days. Next year I shall set my sites more realistically and go straight to the down-trodden pessimism.

It should make it easier for all concerned rather than trying to fight the inevitable.

Happy New Year

Lets see if I can keep any resolutions... obviously it helps I've made some this time.

Peace On Earth Etc

With November being consigned to the bin and December rolling onto our calendars, so begins the month that is 'x' many shopping days to Christmas*.

Admittedly the seasonal for most shops has been stocked with Christmasy goodness since Halloween ended a month ago**, but it is now at least the same calendar month as the event itself.

As is always the case at this time of year, whilst we are filling up our shopping trolleys with both convenience and luxury foods, non-recyclable crap which will shortly be junked, and a thousand and one things you'll never use again, please take just one minute to look at the global picture and spread a little of that goodwell to all men.

In this time of ever increasing tension between nations, the growing divide between the developed/developing world, the millions of starving people and the ever increasing threat of extinction we face as a species from global warming, its time we as educated people need to stop and think for just one moment about putting the planet, its people and their combined future first over our own selfish needs. Stop and think for just one minute.

Done that? Cool, well quickly rush out to the shops to spend your hard earned cash on 1000s of twinkly fairly lights to cover your house in and leave them running 24/7. Afterall, its winter in the predominately developed northern hemisphere, so it'd save all of us on our heating bills. You could even take a picture of it to send to starving orphans. It would really cheer them up to see all those pretty lights.

Contractors

Contractors, like anything, can be good or they bad for you. Much like salt. Too little you die. Too much you die. Just right however, and next thing you know you're on the floor having been clubbed to death by an angry bear.

One minute you are in an exhibition centre and the next you are in an Executive box @ Twickenham. Offers of lunch in the afternoon to tie in with a work are good. Better if its remote from the office. Not so good if they get caught in traffic, thereby commiting you to sit and wait, perhaps doing some paperwork here or there as you idly watch the clock tick by, knowing of the impending doom that inevitably awaits when you eventually get home, but unable to do anything to speed things up.

Its bad enough that you arrive home late because of traffic that you had no control over. Not through some pre-arrangemnt or other nefarious activity, just bad luck.

And on the occasion you do have a beer as you wait, whats worse, arrive home having been out drinking or admit you paid for it?*

Try explaining that one away.

Moved

Whilst to me it seems an absolute age that we moved, looking back at the calendar it was only six weeks ago. It seems strange to think in that time, we have seen the start and end of the Rugby World Cup 2007, and erm, other important stuff.

The move itself began promising. Unlike when we moved into the flat we a) didnt sleep through the alarm*; and b) weren't hungover. Vans were collected, porters (read Smully and Dan) turned up on time and the labour (of necessity) began.

Heavier items and large scale furniture was first. Most went quickly and quietly.... the sofa being the obvious exception. Necessity meant doors and hinges were seperated after many years of happy unison, much like our respective vertebrae would be come nightfall. It wasn't so much that the individual seats of our sofa were difficult (although they were cumbersome) it was that the inconveniently ever present gravity meant the sofa bed kept catapulting out much like an air bag in a car crash, just without the space to expand fully or any regard for our safety/welfare**.

Sofas aside, there were few troublesome objects. The main problem was the sheer number and volume of boxes. I am sure better physicists and mathematicians than I could work out the correct formula based on the number of people, the nuber of rooms and length of stay. In fact I am almost certain they could, because, lets be frank, my estimation was 'somewhat' off. Four hours after completion we finally left the flat, dropped off the keys and slammed straight into rush hour on the North Circular, via Burger King in Park Royal - an alternate definition of 'Fast Food'. 2 hours later and one family member to pick up the keys we were in. Unloading took a bit less than two hours, even after we lost a pair of hands (not literally). Dropping the van back and then hopping on both the last tube and the last train saw me walking home from the station, to a new home, at 2am. :)

To be continued.

Why?

'Why?' was the question I asked of text answer service AQA (Any Question Answered - 63336) the other night given the conversation had gone rather philosophical. Out of the possible replies, the one I received was rather unexpected.

'AQA: There is no reason why the Red Jungle Fowl used to roam in ancient India. Like everything in nature, the chicken's heritage is a matter of pure chance.'

Who would have thought.

When I pointed out I was perhaps looking for a general answer to life and its mysteries which was less chicken orientated, I received,

'AQA: As so many parents have said through the years, the answer to the question 'why' is 'just because'. Ah, the wisdom of parents!'

I feel happier now, although I am becoming inceasingly worried about the part played by Red Jungle Fowl in the bigger picture...

Lethargy

Earlier in the year, we made the decision that our small flat in London had served its purpose and that we were now ready to move to the country to raise Llamas*. Now some five months later, one fall through buyer, two abortive attempts to move and two months of living out of boxes we are almost there and have to wait just 9 days.

Part of the problem is that everything is on hold and I have no motivation to do anything. Our life is in boxes as it has been for some months and whilst I have odd work to do on various PCs or with photos, its hard to get the motivation. Especially when the lure of a new home and the opportunity to spread things out whilst woking is so close. Of course whats made this more inconvenient is the fact that we have booked a total of 6 weeks off to move and we haven't, yet we shall now be moving on a Thursday three days after I go back to work.

But we're moving. And I guess thats what matters.

Today In History

Add to the earlier posting that today will be the day where we will be taking a very roundabout route to get into London (courtesy of the RMT*) to finally sign papers for the new house. Coincidentally, it is four years 360 days to the day when we brought this place and said it would be our home for five years.

Part of me suspects this is more luck than judgement...

This Day In History

Courtesy of the The History Channel the main one seems to be in 476AD when the Western Roman Empire falls:

Romulus Augustus, the last emperor of the Western Roman Empire, is deposed by Odoacer, a German barbarian who proclaims himself king of Italy. Odoacer was a mercenary leader in the Roman imperial army when he launched his mutiny against the young emperor. At Piacenza, he defeated Roman General Orestes, the emperor's powerful father, and then took Ravenna, the capital of the Western Empire since 402. Although Roman rule continued in the East, the crowning of Odoacer marked the end of the original Roman Empire, which centered on Italy.

Other names to crop up include Mark Spitz, Natalia Makarova, Queen Elizabeth II, Gladys Knight, Napoleon, Geronimo; places include Greenham Common, LA and Australia; finally also the Filming of the Titanic in 1985. Needless to say the above list generally arent connected in any way.

Not that these people, those places or the dates wouldn't have been any more or any less important compared to others. Its just a thought.

Laters alligators...

Break

Not the break in the welcome-to-a-new-house-everyone-pop-over-for-a-bbq way I originally planned, but hey, a breaks a break.

There will be time enough for other stuff later.

Hmmmm

Oh dear. I apprear to be getting melancoly in my advanced years.

Motivation And Personalisation

People have different ways of personalising there office space, whether it be photos, trinkets or cutouts. In The Simpsons’ sixth season episode "And Maggie Makes Three" Burns places a plaque in Homer’s station saying "Don't forget: you’re here forever", to remind him that he could never quit again. After the birth of Maggie however, he changes the sign by strategically covering it with photos*.

Me, I have small cut cartoon outs from Dilbert, Nemi, Least I Could Do and Calvin and Hobbes that cover a selection of work and personal topics I find either amusing or motivational.

Most of these I have electronic copies of so when, as I had to on Friday re-pin them, I thought I would replace some of the tattier ones. One of these included a Calvin and Hobbes so I used it as an excuse to read through 10 years of archives to find it again**.

It was during this that it struck me how good the comic was and how insightful it could be. One particular one (09/11/94) caught my eye and I thought I would share. It is a very simple two panel strip of Calvin and Hobbes walking through the forest talking about mankind. Its one of the recurring themes found in the strip, and each time is given weight and made more poignant by being said by a six year old kid. Perhaps it should be compulsory reading and pin board material for politicians.

Dilbert archives next I think.

Yay

More office moves tomorrow.

Irony

When trying to do a repair install, nothing beats a non booting windows PC that BSoDs with the in formation code:

0x0000007B (0xF78D2524, 0xC0000034, 0x00000000, 0x00000000)

Now the question is, do I risk a clean install to solve all the odd glitches that have started cropping up, potentially fubaring my install.

Decisions decisions...

Ce Weekend

Its strange, if everything would have gone to plan we would have woken up in our new house, but as it is, were not. Maybe soon if all goes to plan.

As it is, I am trying to upgrade my webserver. Not having much luck. Its like bnging my head against a wall, just less productive.

Time

I tend not to notice the passage of time as it drifts by on its merry way to wherever it goes*, though on the occasion when I sit, think and look back, I am not only amazed by how quickly things, relatively speaking, have happened, but also my perception/recollection of said events. Certain memories/feelings that I remember from 10 years ago are as fresh as those of the smell of coffee this morning, both those I would consider as important and those I would consider inconsequential**. Other memories, perhaps ones I attribute less importance to, are more hazy, perhaps just a feeling, or an image, but not both.

It is often said*** that time moves too quickly, and certainly to me it seems that each year, each season, each month, each moment that passes is shorter than the one before. Days may be tedious and boring filled with nothing making them drag. Several of these without anything interesting to define inbetween however makes for a gap in my memory and with nothing to anchor them down or stand them apart, just become a dull blur. Days that are memorable, for some event or emotion (inevitably these are the days that are over too quick), become lodged forever as a synaptic path burnt across my brain, which will remain either until it fades (perhaps not burnt enough), is replaced or I die.

Aware as I am of its existence, but completely unable to forsee myself ever using the statement I have forgotten more than you will ever know I know of things that I remember with less frequency and certainly with less clarity than I remember myself remembering before and that worries me. I suspect though that this is the inevitable downside to getting older, doing more things and accumulating more memories. I do wonder as a response to this whether my memory reprioritises memories****, snipping bits off here and there, a little compression to save space, etc.

I guess I am just considering whether remembering, or re-visiting these memories changes them, whether it be conciously or subconciously. Sure I am not going to forget life changing events within a few minutes*****, but with the passage of time, can I trust myself and to remember events/feelings accurately. If I am in a good mood when I recount details, do I put a positive spin on them, or perhaps if I feel miserable, do the rainclouds drift in so to speak. And if so, do the synapses subtly alter? Observation changes both the observer and the observer, and as such can I trust my own memory not to tweak bits here and there? I suspect Schrodinger never posulated on a very pissed off pony appearing when he opened the box.

I am not sure why I chose to write this post. Reading back over it some 40 minutes after multiple re-workings, it is not the light and reflective piece I had intended (although a small portion of that remains, albeit in the footnotes). I suspect its just because I have been thinking about things a lot today. I think its just worrying that things have changed and I don't remember them as I should. The thought that things for better, for worse, and that perhaps by not being able to believe 100% in something, I somehow reduces its worth and it saddens me that I can't be sure.

Obviously I can never know, and if I am honest there is little I can do to make amends, but If I can't trust myself, who can I trust?

Perhaps its nothing, and I probably need to get some sleep.

Tuesday

To be fair its mostly Mondays that get the bad wrap. Bob Geldof had it pretty much bang on when he wrote I don't like Mondays and The Bangles tapped into every workers pain with Manic Monday. Things didn't pan out well for Solomon Grundy and Garfield was never a big fan.

Today though, I am personally leaning towards Call It Stormy Monday (But Tuesday Is Just As Bad) by T-Bone Walker.

Thing N Wotnots N Stuff

Has been a long weekend so far.

Most of yesterday was spent at work with various contractors ironing out glitches and omissions in the design of the electrical supply, mainly to do with alterations to our flywheel UPS' to allow syncronisation of supply frequencies across a common bus bar to allow us to alter their respective loadings, but also changes to the cooling system to allow more accurate throttling when the load is transferred to the genset. Whilst his took me a little over 2 minutes to type, it actually took me leaving the house a bit before six in the morning, and then arriving back a little over twelves hours later.

Now I am just playing with technology of my own. Over the past few weeks, the server hardware and software that this site is housed on has been a bit problematic, so I decided to upgrade and rebuild it completely. This has the benefit that I can correct some underlying problems, but I always feel a a clean O/S with new programs is more stable than a heavily upgraded/patched system. I hope to do this out of spares so there should be minimum disruption (fingers crossed).

However, theres going to be on-off server downtime over the next few weeks, whilst inevitable problems are ironed out, but also whilst we move, which will effect this site, others and email, and whilst I will do the best I can to get it up and running, but it will also depend on arranging a new ISP.

All good clean fun.

Two Weeks

...(fingers crossed) till we move.

woot.

CSI (2)

...Gah! To be concluded. NEXT. FRICKN'. YEAR!

CSI

Season finale, season finale!

Eugh

Having noticed what I thought to be a couple of bits off off milk in my flask, I decided to not risk it and poor the contents down the sink.

Imagine my, urm, suprise?, when our poured, or perhaps more accurately gooped about half a flask of brown 'fluffy' sludge, not that dissimilar to brains.

Nummy.

Time to clean the flask I think.

More Rain

There are benefits to living in the top floor of a three story block with views over London. Give it a few more days of solid rain and that will really test the environmental survey regarding the flood plain of the new place.

Amy Winehouse

Bless her cottons. Watching the girl Winehouse sing Cupid.

Surreal.

Backing band are bloody good.

Hallelujah

Just watching some highlights of Glastonbury on BBC3 (no sign of Dan yet) and saw Rufus Wainright performing a rendition of Hallelujah. Still prefer the Buckley version, although the hairs on my neck still stood on end.

Watching Kasabian start their set and recognising the opening operatic music as something previously sampled by Metallica.. possibly off the Live Shit album.. start of Enter Sandman I think...

Seems dry.

and loud.

and fun.

WIWT.

Bernard Manning

RIP big guy.

Nostadamus I am Not. Hopeful I am

But Thundercats seemed the next aspect of my childhood to reappear. No director as yet so I'm hoping for the best, or rather not the worst.

Wondering about the Cheetara casting now.

Its A Conspiracy

First my router dies, then the replacement goes loopy. Now my 500GB My Book has died less than a day after getting it. Apparently it can't even do a disk check as it has too many bad sectors. I'm guessing someone drop kicked it.

Must be karma.

Summer Showers

Given the recent on/off sun/showers, I have seen on several instances the issue of global warming and climate change creeping into the conversation. I have arbitarily decided that the two issues are in fact not connected, and a change of temperature will not actually change things (bar Norfolk going six feet under), and this is based on one key point.

In Britain, we don't actually have a climate, we have 'weather'.

A Godly Con

Given I have a mainly agnostic view of religion, churches aren't places I often find myself. True, the buildings themselves I find amazing, hence why there are often so many photos of them when I come back from holiday, but the actual practising of religion I find somewhat, whats the word, sinister. This would be one of the reasons why I have never attended Catholic mass.

Well, until yesterday.

Now I wish to point out that it wasn't actually of my volition, more like circumstances beyond my control and before I realised what was happening it was too late. At 5am we got up in the pissing rain to traipse across London on a patchy mass transit system get to Leigh on Sea in time for a 9.30am Christening. Ironically, even with buses, the first Tube and a modicum of walking before we even got to Fenchurch Street, we somehow managed to be early and get the train ahead of the one aimed for, and ended up being in the aptly named Leigh-on-Sea at 8:15.

A further traipse but this time accompanied by not only the rain, but the wind whipping in from the sea, we managed to find a small bagel cafe to kill some time and prevent us from getting wetter, if that was possible. A few coffees and a bacon and cheese bagel and I was ready to face a Christening.

Walking in through the doors, we were greeted by the parents and child, and as we took our seats, there was a nagging doubt in my mind that something wasn't right. Whilst, there seemed to be a higher proportion of silver hair than I would have expected, I put this down to lots of elderly relatives. Everyone seemed to have kids of varying ages (except us) but it was a Christening so that was expected. Then it struck me, well not literally, hanging upon every cross, was Jesus in all his suffering. Although my thought processes geared up, I couldn't see this as being too much of a problem, afterall, a Catholic baptism couldn't be that different from other Christenings I had attended. Although as a related note, it was a bit strange that baby #2 was to be baptised when baby #1 got a naming ceremony, but thats by the by.

Of course, what I hadn't considered was that on the day of Pentecost, in a Catholic church, that the baptism wasn't going to be an exclusive thing, and Sunday Mass would be proceeding as normal. And to be fair, I wasn't wrong. Now, all credit to the priest for his ability to talk/sing/chant over the constantly crying babies and children for the entire hour and a half, although I think he only had himself to blame as the incense didn't help, nor did the uneartly chanting. Or the subject matter of death and dying. But hey, everyones a critic.

Given that I/we hadn't been to mass before, I think we coped well, with the only problem being that the 34 page service guide, was more akin to a Fighting Fantasy Gamebook with its 'if there is a baptism please go to page 18, if not continue to page 24' rules. The only particular points of note, were we obviously had a sinful aura that was immeadiately discernable to all practising Catholics and this was evident for several reasons. First, noone sat next to us. Secondly, the priest kept looking at me (although to be fair I did forget to shave, which was probably symptomatic of my sinful life). Thirdly, and this might be just my paranoia, but I am sure my hands were smoking when I was cluthcing the hymnbook. Lastly, and this probably compounded it, that we didn't get up for Communion, and the benches around us were deserted, even the tumbleweed seemed to shy away from us. Occasionally, people would glance at 'the heathens' on their way back, with righteous indignation, which was oddly warming. The only other bit of note was the requirement to 'exchange signs of peace', where everyone suddenly turning and began shaking hands with other people. That was particularly interesting as random strangers walked up and limply shook my hand. I did wonder whether we had to shake hands with everyone else in the church and whether there was someone keeping tabs, but luckily not.

With the event over, we bid ourfarewells, headed out into the rain and returned to London for the other important event of the day, getting plastered in Soho.

1000th Post

Its seems probably fitting that as I type these words, that there is quite a lot going on, most good, some mediocre and thankfully nothing really bad. The main one is, subject to all the paperwork/surveys being completed, is the impending house move. Currently the loft is boxed up, with nothing but my PC equipment/junk remaining. The remainder of the flat is mostly small ornaments and chuffing great lumps of furniture, the latter of which will travel as is.

We now have our broadband connection back to its full capacity after two minor problems. The first being that an unlimited service, is apparently still subject to a fair use policy, and 50GB per month is apparently fair use. Interestingly, if that were equated to an uncompressed DVD I purchased from the shop, that would be what, 12, 13 movies. So apparently streaming movies over the Internet as a replacement for my TV isn't quite possible, and being restricted to 128kps is not fun. How did I ever survice on dial up. The second problem was that my adsl router died, and I had to get a new one. If/when we move, I might look to another provider but demon have been pretty good so we'll see.

Work is pootling along, although its becoming increasingly confrontational with other departments. The main Estates department don't seem to grasp it isn't possible to just move fibres and duct work at the click of the fingers. Nor, as we found out last week, think to inform us when either a building is being vacated, or, and this is a great one, that access to a disaster recovery room is being closed as they remove the concrete floor. Even better that they then use pneumatic equipment which not only sets of the motion alarms in the walls, but screws up equipment and don't see why its there fault.

I myself am now fed up with the summer sun streaming through the blinds and waking me up at 5. I look forward to thick curtains. This obviously isn't helped by continually staying up to feed my growing addicition to American shows such as the CSI(s), Law & Order(s), Shark...

And thats about it really. Today I hope to do some tidying, take pics of my finished bathroom, wait for my another 500GB drive to arrive. Perhaps go shopping, and generally relax and try and shake this cold I have. Tomorrow we have a Christening down on the coast and then its playtime in the park with uni people. Monday will be spend wishing the sun wasn't so bright I suspect.

Enjoy yourselves. :)

The Working Week

Another weekend has come and gone, filled mainly with paper and cardboard boxes.

I wonder what joys await me next week. Lets hope electrocution aint included.

Transformed. And Not For The Better

Hmmm. I have been watching over the last year as various bits get released from The Transformers and I can no longer kid myself. No matter how cool, transforming robots from another planet are, they are not The Transformers of my youth. The only relation is both the collective term and the characters names. Well some of them anyway. (Blackout anyone?)

Don't get me wrong, as alien robots go they look, as my limited experience on alien invaders go, ok. Personally, I'm yet to be convinced an artificial mechanical life form, presumably powered by something moderately more powerful than a Pentium, would design so many sticky out points to break off, but hey. Anyway, How To Destroy A Childhood Memory In Four Pictures.

Looking at other pics, its bad when all you can say is 'at least Jazz still has his visor....'. And to be fair he still is roughly the same shape. Check out what they did to poor Frenzy who doesn't look quite like he used to. And for the Transformers fans outthere, notice how by using that particular image I carefully avoid the whole FIBRIR / FIRRIB debate, which coincidentally Michael bay has also avoided, although he chose to do so making the robot nothing like the original in any way shape or form, let alone colour.

Hopefully by the time I see it, my childhood memories will be safely locked away, and won't sink like Pearl Harbour.

Fuckin arse. And don't get me started on X-Men 3. Please don't let Bay, Brett Ratner or Joel Schumacher get their hands on Thundercats, or if there is a God, a camera ever again.

Moral Quandry

Should you tell a prospective house purchaser about the comparatively low local burglary rate, even if it is most likely due to the relatively frequent visits by armed police?

Bed Time

No. Thats about it.

Tricky

Hmmmm, whilst I have entered figures for many evaluation matrices, I am at a loss at how to quantify, in weighting terms, a 'gut feeling'.

A Clean Start

Even as the sun rose through the misty drizzle of Acton, the rain did nothing to dampen my mood as I awoke to the first day, of the rest of my life, without my student loan repayments.

First Introductions

As of last week, the world has a new little bundle of joy in it weighing 6lbs 15 oz. Samson world, world Samson.

PS Samson is completely unrelated to myself.

Iceland

I was just reading this article which is talking about how Iceland is the only country in the world which obtains 100% of its electricity and heat from renewable sources and how over the next 20-30 years will be utilising geo-thermal energy as a basis for hydrogen fuel cells for its cars, making it 100% self sustained, and probably a net exporter given its only utilising about 1/4 of the readily available energy.

I was amazed to read:

Half of Rejkjavic's elecricity supply is provided by the Nesjavellir Geothermal Power Plant pictured above. Located about 20 miles from Rejkjavic, the plant has three condensing steam units producing a total of 90MW of electricity

Our main computer room at work on its own uses just over 1MW.

Makes you wonder.

Six Nations

Tomorrow is the final day of the Six Nations, and has the good timing/fortune to also be St Patrick's Day. Needless to say the odd jar of Guiness may be imbibed at some point during the the six hour rugby marathon. Turning to the rugby, and looking at the chances of England winning the Championship, I think its fair to say that we are an outside chance, and William Hill seem to agree putting us at 25/1, with Ireland 13/8 and then the favourites France at 4/9. What William Hill don't seem to be giving odds for is, and you might be suprised or actually you probably won't, is for Italy to win. As an explanation, lets quickly look at the table, and please bear with me if my maths is a bit rusty.

Ok, then, if Scotland beat France, Wales beat England (never a good thing but hey) and Italy go at least 65 ahead against Ireland (66 if France lose by 3, 67 if by 2 and 68 if by 1), then Italy win. Now, looking at the cumulative odds, Scotland 13/2, Wales 5/4, and Italy to win by anything more than 36 is 150/1, which if my maths is correct is 19500/1. Worth a quid.

Sunshine Smile Time

Even on days off, such as I am today, I still wake up at 5:30ish. Luckily today I remembered I was off prior to getting up and dressed which is always irritating, so I allowed myself to doze back off.. The respite was short lived however when I got my first call of the day. Once my eyes had adjusted to the blinding sunshine and having eventually found my phone, I almost regretted going back under the snug duvet as outside was so gloriously sunny and for the first time in ages it wasnt miserable out.

Tomorrow we have a friends wedding in Suffolk, so I can't think of better weather to start the weekend off. Normally I wouldn't look forward to three/four hours driving, but with the sun and gentle breeze, I can look forward to a nice pleasant drive out to the country, before dropping off the car and finding some pub to try the local ales.

Perhaps summer is here. :)

New.. Grand Designs

Another series of Grand Designs has started this evening and I already find my blood pressure fluctuating erratically. Not just at Kevin McCloud (who I am sure is looking more like Greg Proops, both physically and in his mannerisms) for his initial naysaying attitude that miraculously changes into I had faith in you and of course it was obvious how it would turn out, but mainly for the fact that there are so many ideas that I just want to shout no I thought of that first, or no do it this way you berk.

If I am honest though, I think in reality it boils down to damn you for being rich. I want to own your house.

Bathrooms

When embarking upon refurbishing a bathroom, the DIY manuals miss out one key element - big bold letters at the start of the chapter saying:

You do realise this will take over your life don't you?!

One of the things I decided, sensible as it was at the time, has now become rather amusing. When I put the bath in, I decided to leave the plastic film on, to prevent accidental damage afterall, it would be a bit irritating to having installed a completely new bathroom and then scratch it before the grouts dry, symbolically speaking. Actually, I sometimes think I would leave plastic films on most scratchable surfaces if I could (iPod - 1 year, phone - 8 months, PDA - 1 week before I swapped it for a better screen), but I digress.

After about two weeks however, the bath has started to fight back, or more specifically the film. Whereas before, you had to be careful getting in or out incase you slipped, now you have to be careful you dont get tangled up in the loose and becoming more so cling film-esque horror. I suspect the sensation is not that disimilar to walking into a S&M club at about 3am, albeit without a shuffling lackey chained to your hand.

Hopfully it will soon be over. Preferably before it escapes the bath and smothers me in my sleep.

Marmite Guinness

Some time ago I mentioned about Banoffee pie being the ambrosia of the Gods. I was wrong.

I wonder how many of the 300,000 jars I can put into a lockup somewhere.. should last a week or two.

MySQL

Hmmm. Of late, MySQL has been struggling due to what I think is a rather mountainous accumulation of junk and other unwanted detritus in one of the tables. As such, unknown to me, the table in question had grown to several hundred mb and was being written to numerous times a minute, which was causing the ol'webserver to creak and groan.

Hopefully a little spring cleaning here and a tweaking there will stop my site from falling over.

well, at least for a while.

Effort

I know no-one said life was easy (well except all those who crank out the same old tired cliche when they're about to try and weasel out of something.... oh no, wait...), but with the combination of work and replacing my bathroom, I have been somewhat neglecting this site. Before Christmas, I had intended that in the new year I would put some real effort into it, neaten up the loose ends I never got round to when I last spring cleaned and perhaps try out some new things I've been tinkering with.

Now however, without the time, to do the stuff I want to/enjoy, I am struggling to actually do anything, which obviously includes updating, with photos sitting unedited, words left unwritten. Those pertinent comments, witty insights and inspiring statements, well, lets be honest were always elusive and I suspect they are being written elsewhere by others, better than I ever could so no real loss.

Bear with me and I am sure blurry photos and mediocre writings will return with the frequency of something thats not that as frequent as he sun rising/setting but more frequent that my (non-existent) annual Christmas bonus.

Lunchtime Topics

Given my enthusiastic but limited experience of astronomical observatories and radio telescopes, I was quite impressed, not only with my ability to keep track of the conversation concerning the Square Kilometre Array, but to chip in almost salient points at semi-regular intervals.

It was obviously at some point between my attention drifting out the window to a couple talking and my returning from the bar, that I found that the conversation had drifted somewhat and I now found myself immersed (read drowning) in the less cuddly world of quantum mechanics and superconductivity.

Oh, and the more easily understandable but less quantifiable how we didn't know how things worked... limestone for example.

Motivation Wanted

Please apply within.

Armageddon. 5 Mins And Counting

Its seems the very existence of humanity hangs in the balance with Doomsday now a mere 5 minutes away. The significance and very real possibility of destruction and extinction on a global scale does nothing to motivate me to planning the DIY for the coming weekend, let alone begin picking colours.

Bless Dubya

I suspect having learned a lesson from the Katrina debacle, a state of emergency has been declared in Missouri after 200,000 homes have been left without power and the death toll rises to 41.

Now you might hoped that someone noticed that an entire city trying to get by without flooring that wasn't covered by a torrential flood was an emergency sooner.

Horrible. Sparkly Bits

People who know me will know I have a dislike of glittery sparkly bits, and for those that either don't or didn't, you now have the means to inflict no end of nastiness upon my being/sanity. Anyway, after the missus had finished her bath, I, being the kind environmental type chap I am told her to not empty the water as I needed a shower and it seemed pointless to waste it. I got in, washed, emptied the bath and rinsed off under the shower. Having taken less than 5 minutes, that I thought was that, Needless to say, what I had not counted on was a Christmas gift of a bath-salt-thingy recently received, and now completely dissolved.

The remnants of which, were now covering me in the form of tiny stars

Whilst I am not the hairiest man I know, and I will not mention any names to protect both John and Spikey's anonymity, I am not without chest/facial hair.

Needless to say that was some time ago, and without going into any further detail, I can safely say this is something I will be checking before I get in the bath in the future....

Jingle Bells...

I had forgotten how much fun choir singing at a rugby club on Christmas eve is. A very enjoyable experience...

Need to go lie down now... all the merriment, festive cheer and good spirits is quite tiring *<:-)

Merry Christmas

Christmas is nearly here, so to usher in the glad tidings and get myself in the Christmas spirit, I have put on some festive music. Admittedly its Billy Idol's new album Happy Holidays, but its the thought that counts right? ;)

I shall have to be heading off shortly, so will bid you adieu. Have yourselves a Merry little Christmas, and catch ya before the new year.

Take care.

Question

Ok. Heres a question for you.

There was this story on the BBC concerning a lady who gave birth to triplets. Whilst triplets are not overly unusual, the difference is that two of them were identical twins from one womb, and another was born from a second womb. With odds of 25 million to one, I'd start playing the lottery if it were me. Anyway....

My question is this. Given that two are from one egg (usually identical twins) and two eggs were fertilised at the same time (non-identical twins), can you call the three of them twins aswell?

Gotcha!

This is meant for someone out there and she knows who she is... Little Shop of Horrors. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

<insane cackle>Mwahahaha</insane cackle>

Il Pleut

I am glad that I live on the top floor of our block of flats as I see the kids toys in the garden below slowly float away.

Edit: 26/11/2006 14:21: And it shows the commitment of the TVR rally to brave it, most without hoods... although presumably all the Union Flags give some shelter from the deluge. Must have seen, not to mention heard, hundreds of them drive by, and might I say that there were some tonkingly sexy vehicles.

L8rs G8rs

I'm not gonna be around for a few days, so if things break they're unlikely to be fixed. I say unlikely, as given the pecking order of technical expertise that remains, Eddie is marginally ahead of the other residents... and he has no thumbs. I could be wrong and he may surpass all my expectations....

In the meantimes stay safe kids.

Democrats In. Rumsfeld Out.

No, I think that sums it up.

Weekend To-Do List

My aims this weekend include:

1. Perhaps visit the post office to collect two parcels (depending on weather)
2. Household chores
• dusting
• ironing
• tidying
• etc
3. Configure a secure USB stick with some common apps
4. Change all passwords
5. Recover from illness
6. Edit and upload some new photos

1. Sort through the loft; with an aim to
2. Building a MVP

Late. Or Not

Theres nothing like, and nothing worse, than the sheer paranoia of waking up at 630am with a start, thinking the clocks have already been put back and you are late for work. Well perhaps worse would be if you wake your better half by shouting this at them, only to have them inform you rather groggily that they haven't, so its really 530am and thats ok.

Followed by the rather poignant and narky note that it doesn't matter anyhoo because its a Sunday.

Pity

Its bad enough I'm suffering from the after effects of getting soaked last weekend, but to have my fleece, jacket and wooly hat wearing referred to as 'looking like a chicken', makes me wonder why I got out of bed.

Sleep

Sleep is a wonderful thing. It recharges the body and invigorates the soul.

Only on rare occasions is sleep bad. These are for the most part when you have made prior arrangements to sleeping ie dinner, cinema, 8am meeting at work.

Similarly lack of good quality sleep, in moderation will not in itself kill you*, its just really irritating/frustrating. For example, those occasions when you know you have to be up in less than three hours and the second you get to work you'll be persistently yawning, much to the boss', and presumably your own, chagrin.

Its all just a vicious circle.

Slow Times (2)

...but it doesn't stop me from looking.

Slow Times

Its a bad sign if you can't think of anything to search for on eBay.

Lost

Another season of Lost down, some questions addressed, but for everyone answered, two or three more were raised in its place. I forgot how much I miss tv that makes you work for it. Although admittedly it would have been nice with a bit less of a cliffhanger, but hey. Which reminds me, I wonder if they will ever get round to releasing season 2 of Twin Peaks on DVD.

I'm gonna nail my thoughts to the board, and say that the final shot of lost will be Jack, with everyone else dead or gone, walking on the beach.

Post Work

After work I will invariably get home, shower and then cook dinner. During the cooking of the dinner and the eating of the dinner, there will inevitably be the staring out of the window to the less than picturesque view of the A40 and the rush hour traffic. Whilst there are better views to relax to, rolling fields being the main one, I take some measure of consolation watching the people sitting in traffic whilst I roam the flat drinking tea and getting reading to relax for the evening.

Of course their are worse views, one of which would include, and to be honest it wasn't one I'd anticipated, a builders arse drifting by my 3rd floor window carring some scaffolding (the builder, not his arse).

Wha?!?

I have heard some rather odd things said in my time, many of which I might add have drifted from my own mouth. Occasionally, some are intelligible just badly phrased, although moreoften than not, I'm either left thinking 'what are you on?'

In all my time, including some rather extravagant drinking events, never before have I heard the phrase

[thats] the problem with the youth of today, I remember when we used to wash our hands before going to the bathroom.

Like does someone wanna explain that to me?!

Failing Memory

With the increase nostalgia I am currently experiencing about old adverts, brought on by Spikey ad hoc pub-remix of the Um Bongo song (available here), I was distressed/amused to find that according to my memory Barr Irn Bru is Made in Scotland from Gherka's...

I wonder what else my mind can inadvertantly bastardise...

If Only I Could Remember

What it was I was meant to remember. I am sure hope it wasn't that important...

The Elephant in the Room

Sometimes, I marvel at how some meetings can go on for so long given the veritable gallery of elephants we have to squeeze into such a small place.

Terrorism

It Seems Mumbai and her citizens are the latest victims of systematic terrorist attacks.

Not good. Not good at all.

I Am Loved/Needed

Received in my inbox earlier today.

Shit.
Can we (i.e. you) ...

So Many Signs

I should've heeded the signs and stayed in bed:

1. Chilli Peppers on the radio
2. Sheeting down outside
3. Sore neck
4. Bunged up nose
5. Tube carriage full of inconsiderates
6. Phone ringing as I entered the office

7. and as of 22/05/06 8:15am the coffee in my thermos is lumpy (don't ask)

Time Marches On

Of late, I've been thinking about the whole birth, life, death thang. It might be the time of year*, but its probably just some sub concious musing holidaying in the less used area of my grey matter, luckily sans rose tinted specs.

I think today's Nemi sums it up perfectly.

*Edit 23/05/2006: And this Nemi only highlights certain musings all too well.

Fear Of...

Apropro of nothing, Smully forwarded to me the Phobialist, which I read during the course of the day. Most of these I can understand, spiders, the dark, heck even dark spiders, but I there are those I struggle with:

1. Levophobia: fear of things to the left side of the body. avoided by spinning quickly?;
2. Gnosiophobia: fear of knowledge. avoided by not reading/listening to anything?;
3. Phronemophobia: fear of thinking. suggestions? Perhaps Eastenders 24/7...;

4. Venustraphobia: fear of beautiful women. Dear God, keep Keira Knightley away from me...

Part of this got me thinking, about my 'fear' of heights, and when I think about it, its not as simple as I originally thought. The only time I ever consider this, is when standing on very tall buildings staring at the ant like people on the ground very far away* or, for example, last year where I walked round the inside of St. Peter's Basilca to reach the Cupola.

Thinking about this rationally though I have deduced the following. First, as I can stand up without diving to the floor, or stare out a plane window or off of a mountain, I can't be afraid of the distance between my eyes and the ground, so its not solely the honest to God height thats a problem. Secondly, I am not scared of ant sized people, 'nuff said. Lastly, whilst I am concerned about the rather rapid acceleration followed by the instantaneous deceleration, I wouldn't say it bothers me that much.

Yet as I sit here and type this, thinking about those stairs in the Vatican, my palms are clammy and I have this sick feeling in my stomach, which is stupid given however careless I am, I cannot fall off of the floor upon which I am currently sitting.

Only the other day, someone pointed out to me the fact that people were given funding for studying the bloody obvious and now I'm wondering whether I can obtain funding to test this. Perhaps in the interim I can say I just have a combination of dislikes** rather than a paralysing fear.

Of course, the stupid thing about this is that the physical symptom, ie sweating through my hands, isn't really that conducive to hanging on for dear life...

Clippy

For all his faults, and Lord are there many*, I may have considered installing Clippy if he had been a bit more helpful.

It's A Conspiracy

...what with police showing up, and then a contractor calling to inform me I'm not in work (like, yeah I know coz I'm here you cretin), I forgot to record Logan's Run. Damn you vicious distractions! That was the only thin I had to do today... why dost thou taunt me...

Door Step Callers

As I sit an enjoy the final few hours of my rather extended Easter break, my attempts to Destroy all Humans has been rudely interrupted. Twice. With still the potential for a third. First, the kid from downstairs appears to have been locked out as his parents apparently to the shops without telling him and asked whether I could help. Sadly I couldn't. Secretley I feel they've probably just left because he is so annoying, Secondly, some nice young gentleman wanted to pop in and talk about the bible. You'd think this was some sort of religious festival and more importantly, haven't these people got jobs to do?

No doubt the postman will disturb me just as I get to a crucial part, and proceed to not be delivering anything I ordered.

New (Old) Sensations

About seven and a half years ago I decided to bid adieu to an old friend, partly to reclaim valuable time I wasn't ever going to get back. As my chin (and top lip) disappeared beneath my facial hair I never particularly looked back. Nor down. Now, for whatever reason has prompted this*, I took the rather radical decision of shaving said facial hair off at the end of last week. Whilst I know people do this daily, and as such it isn't radical in that sense, for me I have gone through several large milestones in my life without removing said fur.

Having returned to my natural state, albeit briefly, I am happy to notice three things. First, I don't have a double chin which I feared I may have developed. Secondly, I can still shave around my mouth without cutting my lips/nose off. Lastly, I had forgotten the pleasant sensation of a cool breeze on a recently shaven top lip.

I look forward to checking back in 2013.

Just A Thought

To the lady who I had a disagreement with earlier. I whole heartedly realise your lipstick was important to you. As I was descending the escalator, a column of commuters hot on my heels, I could see the care with which you were putting it on over your shoulder*. Three important things to note though. First, had you not dropped it, it wouldn't have been on the floor. Secondly, had you not paused at the bottom of the escalator trying to pick it up, thereby causing the man behind you to bump into you, you would not have fallen over. Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, whilst I am very sorry for your loss, had I not stepped on your precious lipstick, I would have stepped on you, and trust me, that would have hurt a lot more.

Vegetative

I had intended to write about new and exciting things, but now they appear to have all dribbled out of my head. The one thing I can remember is that the animated series of Clerks is pretty damn good.

On a site related note, is it too much to ask for internet explorer to work. Or even to be consistent in its failings. And worse, I can't remember what I just changed to break something else. Gah! Time for sleep. Morning. Fresh Eyes I think.

Updates

I had intended to do a series of updates, including photos, links, funny anecdotes about my ol man's attempts to put a title page on DVDs, comments about global politics, the awesome new French Connection advert I just saw, but these have been superceded by reading my work mail, which unfortunately makes me want to put my head into my laptop and then throw it at high velocity through the window. The laptop not my head.

Maybe tomorrow.

Whose Bright Idea

A big congrats to Pittsburgh. Now all I need to do is go close my eyes for about three hours, and then head into work. What a silly idea, putting on the biggest televised sporting event of the year in the middle of the night...

Things I learnt Yesterday

During the course of yesterday I learnt many new things one of which is that I can fit a telephone in my combat's ankle pocket. Other interesting things is that a lady in the coffee shop hates licorice, shes of the opinion Max (maybe her new boyfriend...) is always late and that opportunities, whatever they are, always present at the wrong time. There was something about quantum physics also but I lost some of the finer details became distracted as I dropped hot cheese down my chin.

Mini-Skirts

Many years ago, a friend of mine told me something, and that something popped into my head during a meeting today for no discernable reason.

A good discussion is like a miniskirt; Short enough to pertain interest and long enough to cover the subject.

Ever.

Eggs

Question.

Why is it, if you fry eggs, the yolks break easily but if you cook an omelette they dont break when you drop them into a bowl to whisk them?

Thoughts?

v2.0

Have started drafting the stylesheets and layouts for a bit of a shake up round here. Might take a while, but its a start.

Proverb

Up at 5am to go to work. Back at 8pm. The interim period filled with crisises and cock ups of varying levels. Its as though there is a conspiracy. Sadly I don't have anything particularly relevant to say, but have had the following proverb sitting in my email box for months now, and figured I can delete it if I publish it here:

"Listen a hundred times; ponder a thousand times; speak once."

Another One Bites The Dust

So, Charles Kennedy has departed office. I can understand arguments on both sides, and have decided I'm not goona to comment whether I agree or not, I just think one aspect about all this is very strange. For all the time that he has claimed he had a drink problem, he was the most successful liberal leader in over 80 years leaving the party with a substantial number of seats, and a good chance at being the opposition. Now if he has been seeking counselling for 18 months, and been sober for at least two if not longer (don't quote me on that as I can't find an exact source), then does this mean that for the time since he has been trying to clean himself up, his colleagues have been systematically gunning for him. Whats stranger, if 'people' have been covering up and are fed up of doing so, what, or who, has changed their opinions or morals?

Now it just remains to be seen whether the Liberals can clear up this issue in a dignified manner. Much like the Conservatives did recently. Oh. Hang on a minute...

Happy New Year

I'm going back to lie down now. Enjoy. Let me know how it goes.

Christmas

If I don't get a chance to post later, have a good festive time. May it be filled with fun, happiness and stuff.

Ciao.

More TV

Perhaps as a further response to my comments a few nights ago, tonight I am watching a one off drama staring Claire Goose called 'Perfect Day'. Its pretty enthralling for several reasons. First, its quite good with regard to plot, acting and scripting. Second, it has an awesome soundtrack (Divine Comedy, Primal Scream, 10cc, Happy Mondays and the list goes on). Thirdly it has Claire Goose in it who is also in a drama with David Tennant tomorrow evening. Primarily though, it is for the reason it isn't that much like my wedding, and as such I really want to have my Wedding day again. Everything from the night before, to the preperation on the day, even the loitering in the room before hand with the male party with nothing but time, champagne and ironing to occupy us, before standing at the alter, stuttering through the vows, etc etc

Tonights TV

I was going to write a long thing about how I'm not a big TV watcher, and that luckily for me there are currently only about 4 progs I make an effort to watch and those would be Lost, Rome, Bleak House and now Space Cadets, but I realised that would be tempting fate as Bleak House will shortly be over, and all the previous programmes I watched religiously have been cancelled. Space Cadets looks alright, although I think I was initially more interested in the faux Russian stuff than the hoax, but its growing on me. Johnny Vaughn commented that the Russian badges were cheap, and having been to Russia and got pin boards full of the things, not to mention various military paraphenalia, I can't think he didn't emphasise enough quite how much there is and quite how cheap it is.

In alternate TV stuff, it must be Christmas as Coca-Cola and various Whiskey companies ramp up the advertising, which is a shame as all I wanna see is the adverts for egg with the cute guinea pigs.

It's SO Beautiful

Following my earlier post in which I mentioned my fluctuating emotional state, I've had several conversations with various male friends who have experienced similar side effects after getting married, and most assured me they would pass.

Sadly though, I don't see my emotions levelling off any time soon. Last nights tearing up was brought on courtesy of the Simpsons episode 'And Maggie Makes Three'.

The plot line is relatively simple. At Marge's insistence, an episode of 'Knightboat' is cut short to make way for some family time, in which Marge digs out a photo album containing baby photos of Lisa and Bart.

Marge shows one of a young Bart, naked, with a cowboy at, riding Snowball I. The next is of young Lisa next to a giant castle of blocks she's built. In the next, a Lisa cries as Bart stands among the ruins of her castle.

[looking at the photo album]

Marge: Here's Bart sleeping. Here he is dozing...here he is after a visit from the sandman. Ooh, here's nappy time, Bart! Here's a cute one: he's all tuckered out.

Lisa: Why aren't there any pictures of Maggie?

[Maggie looks worried]

Homer: Well I'm glad you asked. It's actually a very interesting story.

The Story unfolds as follows:

Homer had just left the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant to take his dream job at a bowling alley, which had a lower salary but involved less stress and a friendlier atmosphere. However, when Homer and Marge had sex to celebrate this development, she becomes pregnant. Realising the lower salary could never provide for three children, Marge keeps the pregnancy hidden from Homer until Patty and Selma manipulate the townspeople into telling him. Emotionally crushed, Homer returns to the power plant, and begs for his old job back from Mr Burns.

Homer: Thanks for giving me my old job back.

Burns: I'm afraid it's not that simple. As punishment for your desertion, it's company policy to give you the plague.

Smithers: Uh, sir, that's the plaque.

Burns: Ah yes, the special demotivational plaque to break what's left of your spirit. Because, you see, you're here forever.

[Smithers screws a 'Don't forget: you're here forever' plaque into the wall]

Burns: Don't forget: you're here forever!

Homer: Aw, I can't go on with this charade any longer! I hate my job, I hate my life, and ever since I found out about this baby there's been nothing but bad luck.

As we return to the present day:

Lisa: So you loved her right from the start!

Homer: [tickling Maggie and giggling] Absolutely.

Bart: Then why no pictures?

Isn't that the most touching, heart felt moment ever. It makes me want to have kids just so I can tell a similar story. Even thinking about this whilst typing it made me wibble. I am truly doomed.

A full analysis of 'And Maggie Makes Three' here.

Manners

Over the last few days Sal has been reading Talk to the Hand: The Utter Bloody Rudeness of Everyday Life (or Six Good Reasons to Stay Home and Bolt the Door) by Lynne Truss, and as a result has commented how she has started noticing certain things more.

Now on the way home last night I was about to disembark from the tube at the single doors at the end of a carriage, and someone stepped on. It was clear that he was never going to be able to pass me yet he tried anyway. I just stood there. Time passed. Not an incredible amount otherwise I would have had to get off at Ealing Broadway and headed back, but enough to make it clear I wasn't moving. Now I was wondering whether I should say anything or capitulate, but before I could, the man stepped back out of the train, into the mass of people. As I passed (although more like pushed) my way through I said 'Thank you' trying to sound sincere, and proceeded on the way home. Now Sal who had stepped off further up the train, commented that the people who I had forced to wait all looked at me incredulously. As we were discussing this whilst walking home, a cyclist moved up behind us and started ringing their bell. We stepped aside and let them pass, waiting for a thank you.

None came, and given that we were on a pavement with a perfectly good road next to us, this further prompted our irkedness.

Now the question is thus. Are we irked because we expect too much from people - that we will receive as good as (I hope) we give? And if so, should we be offended by other peoples lack of manners or their ability to reach 'our' expectations? If we set these too high, are we doomed to be perpetually disappointed, and conversely, if we set them too low, are we not giving people the benefit of the doubt, and thereby somehow acting to our own detriment.

I always thought that we should always look for the best in people. Perhaps this is an outdated view. Increasingly though it seems to be getting harder to find the good.

Doomed

There are times, when I know I am over tired. For example, on the way back from the honeymoon, I found "Herby Fully Loaded" quite emotional, and given I saw it on the way out, any novelty had been had (although to be honest after you've seen any Herbie film...)

Tonight I found myself watching a short 10 minute documentary on the future of mankind. As Sam Neill described the growth of our sun over the last 5 billion years, I felt like a proud parent at a presentation day and felt a tear of pride.

As we turned to look at the future, my pride turned to worry as I learnt that a 5% increase in the sun's temperature will kill all plant life and a 10% would bbq all animal life. My worry then turned to dismay and wibbling, as I learn that in another 5 billion years or so, the sun will increase in temperature, expand, and incinerate our small blue green planet quicker than you can say 'D- Good consistent worker but must control temper.

Only 5 billion years away. Makes you wonder if its worth getting up in the morning.

Ho hum. On a lighter note, I'm nipping out tomorrow to try a new panoramic adapter for my camera, so if it coms out right, there might be some new styles of pics. If its pants, then, erm, I'll get bored and find something else to occupy my time with.

Three Things I Learnt Today

Today I learnt three things that will have a varying impact on my life.
First, I discovered that a delay beyond my control in one of my projects will cause it to overun and come in over budget by about �12k. Whilst not a disaster due to some lag time and contingency, I suspect my next review may be slightly harsher, but thats about it.
Secondly, during my lunch hour, I learnt from the young lady walking in the other direction that her bad back is solely due to the table. I figure that of the three, this will have the least impact on my life, whilst perhaps beong the most intriguing.
Lastly, I discovered at a rather inopportune moment that the shoes I recently got to replace my old ones are devoid of steel toe-caps (which is even more annoying considering that the previous ones did, even though they were the same make and model). Needless to say in the big scheme of things this doesn't amount to a hill of beans, but at the moment of discovery, it certainly had a concentrating effect.

There was a fourth thing, but it can't have been that important as I have forgotten it.

Things

I had wanted to comment on the Evening Standard from the night before last. 2/3rds of the front cover was devoted to the London 7/7 appeal generating �8m. 1/3 was Michael Owen's move to Newcastle for �17m.

I had wanted to comment on the appalling natural disaster in the Big Easy..

...but words fail me. And even if they didn't fail me, they wouldn't do justice.

Further Thoughts

Re-reading both yesterdays post and the quotes, I noticed an amusing contrast between the line

"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth."

Thoughts

I wouldn't normally post stuff that drops into my inbox, but on this one occasion, I think its probably worth it. Essentially, this email was a rehash of the info found on missico.com under the title What does love mean, and whilst I won't post it all here, I thought I'd mention two:

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."
"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you."

Buskers And Darwin's Theory Of Natural Selection

In the interests of natural selection, please only tip 'good' buskers. After only a few days, only those with ability, talent and a good songlist (subjective I know so if in doubt tip but make sure you get a receipt) will be able to eat whilst others will be unable to lift their amps with their weakened and withered limbs.

It is through this careful selection that in the future, commuters will not have to listen some idiot on a kazoo performing a bad rendition of Hey, Macarena!.

Time. Principles. Priorities.

Just over a year ago, I wrote how I felt that I was under utilising my free time. In the end I don't think I came to any life shattering decisions, other than basically some days you just really don't fancy doing stuff, and that, on occasion, this is fine. Other days you do. What matters is picking your priorities and sticking with it. Sometimes you don't have an option, but hey, thats life.

I think this whole issue stems from that notion that time is the one factor in life you can't control. It just trickles by and you never know how much of it you have until its (almost) gone. Therefore, how you spend it, what you do with it, to me, seems to be the big thing in defining your happiness (or lack thereof). It defines you. Time is what its all about. Although I dislike the phrase, there is truth in the phrase 'time is money'. Working harder, and longer will give you more money, which may make you happier, or may not, but you will have less time to be either. I think this is what I had rattling around my head 18 months ago. It goes hand and hand with wanting to make the most of the things I do, hence, one of the reasons why I started scribbling here. It may not amount to a hill of beans, but its my hill and my beans, and barring catastrophic failure, fire and flood, is here to help me remember things, in quiet moments.

Even before I began thinking about this, events of late have been busy for me, but mostly enjoyable, which is important (well to me anyway). The downside is that to'ing and fro'ing hasn't left me with much time to think about what I've been doing let alone digest it. I can live with not writing here so long as the real world is occupying me, as I know full well I'll get here eventually.

I had intended to write about the last week or so last night, detailing things here for posterity, witty anecdotes and comments that may, or may not, interest visitors, but mainly for myself. It didn't happen.

I had intended to write about the stretch between Junctions 18 and 19 of the M4, how it smells as though every cow in Britain has defected just behind your dashboard. I had wanted to write how happy I was that Smile, the internet bank have started re-advertising, which gives airplay and royalties to The Supernaturals a brilliant Scottish band I saw on many occasions who sadly split years ago. I wanted to comment that Ikea opens on weekdays from 10am to 12 midnight which is longer, and later, than most pubs. There was something about my accidental mis-pronunciation of Minehead as being where the hipped people go. Plus many others that have been lost in the interim. Why? Because some oike (for want of a better phrase and the fact this is notionally a family site) took time out of his day to mug me.

Some little shit decided that his day, the time he spends awake, could only be made better by mugging me. Whilst I know this probably wasn't personal, I find it deeply agitating (probably not the right word, but I'm not sure what is, or whether there is one).

From that moment where I failed to chase him down, being hindered by his travelling on two wheels down an A road and me on two feet running across traffic, the three hours me and two officers spent looking before we found him, to the point, seven hours latter when I finished giving my statement, all my time, effort and priorities were to prevent this happening to someone else. Technically, they were to find him and let him know how really irritated I was for ruining what had, up until that point, been rather a good day. but law, due course etc.

Even now, just thinking about it, makes me angry, which in so doing bugs me more, as I don't know why.

The articles that I lost were personal, and had a neglible monetary value. Certainly not compared with the hourly rate of the two officers for the three hours I spent crawling the area, the phone calls, etc Afterwards I felt bad given the resources that were being spent for my benefit given my comparably nominal loss, but as everyone pointed out, it was a matter of principle as much as anything. This sentiment was echoed when I learnt the individual may have been a suspect for a similar crime earlier in the day.

I'm not sure what I've learnt from this brief experience. That time and money are outweighed by principles? Perhaps. I think on some level, I've always known that, and just typing it makes me think its bloody obvious. I suppose its just quite re-assuring to have it put in perspective, although to be truthful, I would have preferred a less personal view. Its also true to say that sometimes we have to do things we don't like and don't really want to at our own expense, but again, thats not rocket science.

I guess there really is nothing new to say. I just wanted to say something. I don't think I should particularly worry about it now. I'm not even sure if odd, minor, events like this could, or should, have any lasting impression.

Perhaps I just started rambling and then just arrived here by chance. Perhaps I wonder that if I can rationalise my reaction, then I can stop being angry. After all, I'll be ok. The bad guy may go to jail. Justice may be served. I've done my bit. If I've lost some beans from my hill because of it, then so be it. If the foundations were that rickety I might have to worry, but I am sure, given time, it'll all be peachy.

Personal Space

Why is is that Chuggers hunt me down wherever I go, stopping just short of tackling me to the ground to get their %, whilst people vocalising about religion and salvation seem to shy away from me..

Its not just me. Right?

Temples, Where For Art Thou?!?

At times of stress I generally rub my temples to try and alleviate the pain. I am not sure why, its just something I do, and I don't know the mechanics behind it but it usually works. (At other times I rub the bridge of my nose to try and take away the pain caused by other people's stupidity, but that invariably fails.) Recently though I have been putting my hands to my temples more and more frequently and it has been having less effect, and this has been getting worse for the last couple of months. Up till now I have been figuring it is just a result of increasing workloads, longer hours, later nights and more stupid people. This as would appear is not the case.

Someone has moved my temples.

Whilst in the toilets earlier I was washing my face and hands to try and remedy a minor headache, not to mention wake myself up, when I diagnosed the problem.

I have always used the edge of my hairline as an indicator of where to put my hands. This seemed sensible and logical enough given my hairline ran over the middle of my temples. Now though it would appear that some villainous knave, for reasons I do not know nor can comprehend, has, under cover of night, moved my temples ever so slightly forward. This is supported by the fact that, upon closer examination, it would appear that whilst doing this they have inadvertently moved an inch long scar that runs across my right temple out from under my hairline into plain view.

I do not know why someone would want to do this, but if the perpetrator is reading this, I will find you and stop your nefarious plan.

Another Day...

..another dollar.

On another note, why is it that the projects you enjoy get scrapped, and the projects you disagree with end up filling every waking second. And then some.

Que sera.

Sorry

Courtesy of Dictionary.com

sor·ry   ( P )  (sr, s�r) adj. sor·ri·er, sor·ri·est Feeling or expressing sympathy, pity, or regret: I'm sorry I'm late. Worthless or inferior; paltry: a sorry excuse. Causing sorrow, grief, or misfortune; grievous: a sorry development. [Middle English sori, from Old English srig, sad, from sr, sore.] sorri·ly adv. sorri·ness n.

Writers Block

There were several things over the last few days that I had intended to write about, but as I sit at my better half's keyboard, I find none of them particularly leaping out at me. What with the Live8 events, the Tempel 1 comet, the public disorder in Edinburgh, Chirac's culinary expertise, there is enough that has happened recently that I have an opinion on, yet nothing I begin to type seems to work. I think this stems from the other night watching Batman Returns on tv, but that is another story, and sadly again, one I have no particular desire to try and articulate.

As such I am reduced to frivolity and mindless observation. Take for example the keyboard I am using now. It has the world's loudest spacebar. Moreover, none of the shortcut keys that I have always considered pointless (or perhaps intimidating), are actually bound to anything. Think I might go to bed.

Alternatively, I could stay up, scan some old photos I have been meaning to put up for a while, and generally get something productive done. Perhaps even watch Days of Thunder which is currently on BBC1.

Lying in bed, Staring out the window, it is then.

IDW

Woo hooo. Peter David's announcement that IDW have picked up Fallen Angel, is a start. DC dropped the ball, and should have moved FA to Vertigo to give it the credit and kudos that was due. I am interested to see J K Woodward as the new artist. Never seen his work before and it looks different. In a good sort of way.

Compare this to the Transformers license that IDW has recently picked up. With the preview covers, one wonders whether with Don Figueroa has spoiled us.

Fingers crossed for both.

Beach Volleyball

The BBC recently ran a story about how Charlie Saikley, the "godfather of beach volleyball" has died, aged 69. The article goes on to describe how Saikley "took an indoor sport and took it outdoors" building up from a single match in 1943 (wasn't there a war to be fought?) to an Olympic sport.

The issue I have with Volleyball, is I find it difficult to discriminate where the sport ends and where the gratuitous ogling of oiled, bronzed, toned (but most importantly) scantily clad individuals throwing themselves about, begins. This is not aided by such games as Dead or Alive Xtreme Beach Volleyball. I always felt it was just me, but no, I take solace in the knowledge its the BBC aswell.

Take this image, captured from the BBC page in question:

Best practice dictates that to allow visually impaired viewers to access the information, captions and tags should be descriptive enough to convey the meaning of the photo. The caption reads:

Before Charlie Saikley, the sport was barely played outside California

Beach Volleyball

Surely, it has not escaped anyones notice that the photo is not of Mr Saikley, a beach or nor of a simple volleyball. It is, for want of a better phrase, a scantily clad arse. Would it not be better to come clean, admit the truth and set both to 'gratuitous bikini shot', thereby dropping the pretense and acknowledging the prime reason people watch beach volleyball is that mud wrestling is on hiatus.

Is It Bad?

When you consider getting up at 7am a lie in.

John Lewis

Wandering round John Lewis on Sunday and everywhere I looked there were gift list shoppers. With a few exceptions the majority were easily recognisable, characterised by two key elements:

• A women, head held proud, sweeping down the aisles, steamrolling over any obsticle (other shoppers included) inbetween her and a new matching set of bathtowels; and
• A small shambling shell of a man trailing in her wake, head held low grasping the last vestibule of his manhood in the form of a Palm Powered barcode scanner.

Whilst amusing at first, their plight was oddly Sisyphus-esque and as I watched them, the males that is, they could easily have been spirits drifting through the Asphodel Fields of the Underworld. I would have watched and formed greater opinions of the females but I needed to keep moving, concerned for my own personal safety as I was.

If you have time, and are interested in such rituals then after a small period of observance a pattern of behavour is clear.

The woman, having created a path to whatever shiny, glittery, fluffy or expensive item that currently took her interest, prowls, fending off other would be shoppers, tutting as she does so, waiting for her man to arrive.

As the man shambles forth, he lets out a sigh accompanied with small mumblings as the women directs his attention in towards the article of her affection. With a spark of recognition, perhaps even understanding, a small glitter of life springs into his jaded eyes, a hint of colour in his dull drawn cheeks as he looks at the object then the scanner. He slowly depresses the button, asserting his control, his technological mastery over the gagetery. Then, with a small beep to acknowledge another 'kill', the illusion shatters and is over, the women off to claim another victim. The life draining from the man before the red beam fades, his strength and will sapping, drifting off into the ventilation ducts.

Occassionally, there would be a problem or the device wouldn't work, and those a more caring side of the women would be shown, perhaps offering supportive words like 'It's ok, I don't mind or 'I'm sure its nothing, your under a lot of pressure, can I help?'. The more firm, forthright and domineering, would just stand and say 'Well, have you done it yet? I'm waiting'. Not even letting up when the first tear rolled down the cheek, and merely tapping her feet in time with the sobs.

I'm not keen on shopping so am not off to a winner and knowing that my moral dwindles as the day goes on, IMHO it would be much easier to do such things together and support each other. If you are gift list shopping for a wedding, one might consider it a bad omen (or perhaps a sign to run) if you can't achieve the relatively simple task of walking round agreeing what you like and scanning it, compromising where necessary, without any outside influences.

Just a thought.

Number Stations

Ever wondered what a Number Station was?

Kibble

The more think about it, perhaps even dwelling on the subject, the more I realise the intrusion of kibble into every aspect of my life.

Over time I have tried to take steps to halt this, trying to avoid it where I go, but as I pause and look back retrospectively, I am beginning to see it more and more, recognising it for what it is.

Where once was nothing, there is now something.

Election

So the counts are in and Labour roll on for a historic third term...

In Ealing Acton, the results were as follows:

Name		Votes 	%    +/-%
A.Slaughter(Lab)	16,579	41.8 -12.3 
J.Gough(Con)	11,059	27.9 +2.8 
G.Malcolm(Lib)	9,986	25.2 +8.6 
G.Burgess(Green)	1,999	5.0  +5.0

Now given I didn't even see a single canvasser, only received direct mail from Labour, received flyers from the Conservatives and LibDems and naff all from the Green party (I didn't even no they had a candidate till I looked at the polling card), is it any suprise the votes turned out like they did. Yes demographics probably made more of a difference, and I know it wasn't a marginal, but even so.

And whilst it wasn't the victory the local Lab Candidiate's name would suggest, at least turnout was up.

Dreams

Freud suggested a dream represented an ongoing wish along with the previous days activities. Jung believed that dreams were to compensate for those parts of the psyche (total personality) that are underdeveloped in waking life. Others say that dreams deal with problems we can't solve in waking life and offer solutions. More recently, it has become fashionable to say that dreams are a way for the brain to sort through the information of the day, sometimes literally, others metaphorically, and 'save' it appropriately (presumably making connections to other thoughts so they can pop into your head randomly during waking hours).

Even though there is no definative answer, it would probably be safe to assume some combination of the above.

Now, considering for the last couple of days I have begun to wonder if everything is not alright in Grey matters-ville. You see, my brain absent mindedly (pun intended) has of late been through my old long forgotten memories, selected some choice specimens, dusted them off and promptly bastardised them for my viewing pleasure. Consequentially, whilst previously I was perfectly happy with whatever was, or was not, nagging me in my subconcious, I am now becoming ever so slightly neurotic wondering about said dreams in the waking day, so much so that my waking concious wasn't previously registering this concern it is now... whether it has any cause to or not.

I'd have words with my sub-concious, but I have a sneaky suspicion it'll ignore me anyhoo.

Electioneering

As the Election date looms, the Parties are tying up pushing their own manifestos and moving onto the negative campaigning.

Having been taught a degree of morals and manners when I was a younger lad, something politicians seem to take or leave depending on the way the wind blows, two titbits stick in my head. First, if you don't have anything good to say about someone, then don't say anything. Secondly, and perhaps not a true saying but something I've always thought, it doesn't say much for you if you cannot win on your own good merits.

As Radiohead so eloquently put:

I will stop, I will stop at nothing Say the right things when electioneering I trust I can rely on your vote

Is it any wonder people are apathetic towards politics considering that by voting for a candidate you're endorsing these individuals, giving them carte blanche to run the country according to 'their'(or their parties) 'moral' and idealogical viewpoints, however (im)moral or (un)just.

News Tit-bits

With the Popes funeral only minutes away, I will be interested in seeing what resolutions are made over the seating arrangements to avoid any political headaches. Traditional Vatican seating would have the leaders arranged by length of office, giving Robert Mugabe and Fidel Castro prime seats. This is sure to aggravate certain people, but there are many other considerations that will need to be taken in. I suspect they will eventually go with using the French Alphabet, relocating the US as Etas-Unis, while the likes of Syria, Iran and the Ukraine get to stay put.

Jonny Wilkinson has more red tape to overcome if he is to partake in the Lions tour. Apparently, due to his vast earning potential, and his continued injury problems he, or more specifically his knees, may be uninsurable. This does not bode well for his continuing career.

On a more humouress note, Tony Blair has fallen foul of Google's search algorithms. Enter liar and guess whos pick of the bunch.

Teeth

Strange, before visiting the dentist my teeth didn't hurt. Now they do. I think I'm going to avoid all food and drink from now on.

Dentists

It occurred to me only earlier this morning, that dentists do in fact speak a different language.

Having told me that everything was "good" I mistakingly sat up to leave. It was about at this point I was restrained and subjected to much unpleasant scraping and proding. A short time went by (it may have been longer but I might have passed out), and I was asked whether I was ok. It was at this point I tried to say "does it look like I'm alright?!?! I'm drowning in my own blood as you stick metal prongs into my gums", but in the end merely replyed "guh". As she bidded adieu at the end of the appointment with the words "have a nice day", it was all I could to to bite my already swollen tongue before I told her where she could shove her multi-function flossing kit.

As a kid I was always told you needed that special something to be a doctor or a dentist. I didn't realise it was a healthy interest in torture. Torture and smiling.

Royal Mail Special Delivery (Again) Part 2

American narrator voice over: And now the concluding part

He did. I even got an apology. Now I just have to wait for the resolution with Ticket Master over the first set of tickets. Whilst I want to go to this concert, I'm not sure I want to use an additional tickets (if they ever turn up) just so I can get standing room, because �150 is a bit much just so I can put my beer down.

Royal Mail Special Delivery (Again)

Special is the word for it.

American narrator voice over: As mentionedPreviously on skitz.org...

I bought some concert tickets from Ticket Master, and they tried and failed to deliver leaving a little red card. At this time I now had a total of four red cards for other items, although I could only name three. I called and re-arranged delivery for when I would be at home. On the appointed date, two items turned up. The third never showed. Apparently the postman had taken it upon himself to try and redeliver the item, but by that point we had gone to the sorting depot to find out wtf was going on. We later returned home to find another red card saying they couldn't deliver a package. Grrrr. (I believe a similar thing happened with a previous item which is why I got a fourth card, but I have never been able to confirm this as I wasn't expecting something else so don't know if its gone missing or never existed. Schr�dinger would be proud.) The item would never materialise again.

The following Monday, only 1 of 2 different, rather crucial, items materialised, again via special delivery, albeit 2 hours late. I would've called to ask what was going on but the depot was closed. The following morning I called the depot. I say morning, I started calling at 7 using a hands free phone and eventually spoke to someone shortly after 11, and they denied knowledge of any second parcel and since I couldn't contact the sender, I didn't have a track and trace number to prove that it existed.

At approximately 1530 that day, a lone postman turned up with the second package and explained he had been told to deliver this package immediately, but did not know anything about why. Well, 26 hours late isn't bad

With numerous calls to the management of the local depot "we're looking into it", Royal Mail Complaints "you'll need to get the sender to claim on your behalf", I called Ticket Master and asked for them to start my claim. At this point I was advised that the tickets couldn't be replaced for H&S reasons, but as there were some still available, I could purchase them. So I did.

Needless to say, I returned the next day to find a red delivery card. Needless to say when I went to collect them the following day at the depot, they were not there.

It was at about this point I spoke to a member of management, using some rather colourful language, pointing out that if something is given to someone to pass on, and they don't, then they are more than likely, thieving bastards and should be shot. I also asked him whether he thought this was an acceptable state of circumstances to be in and he agreed that it wasn't. He promised me a phone call later that morning, and I pointed out that if I hadn't received it, I might be slightly angsty next time I spoke to him.

However, he did call later that day and say he had found them in a completely different depot, and I asked him how the local driver in Acton had returned it to Paddington and he said he was unsure, but was looking into it. In the meantime did I want my tickets redelivered? I asked him whether he was F****** joking, and he said he wasn't. I asked him whether he could see the envelope, and he replied yes. I told him that I would collect it from him in person at 7am tomorrow (this) morning, and he said he didn't start work that early. I pointed out that on this occasion he would.

Hair Days

Why is it I only have good hair days when I'm planning to visit the barber to get it cut...

Money, It's a Gas

I remember the days when if you handed over a twenty, let alone a fifty, pound note in a shop, the staff would look at you accusingly. It was as if you had printed the money yourself, in between pimping underage Eastern European girls and importing cocaine. And before you ask, no I'm not that old, I don't pimp underage Eastern European girls and I don't import cocaine.

Wind forward to this lunchtime, and none of the cashpoints I visited (and before you start I know its not scientific so please don't quote me) would issue a note under a �20, and some wouldn't do anything but a fifty.

I only wanted to buy a can of drink for heavens sake. Correct me if I am wrong, but my spending options are seriously limited* when I can't get anything smaller than a fifty, yet to use cards in a shop I need to spend more than a tenner.

It has been one of those weeks. Role on Monday...

*"Seriously limited" in that I don't want �49.11 of change in my pocket because you know that no one else has anything larger than a �1 coin for insurance purposes..

Royal Mail

Two items of "special delivery guranteed by 1pm" missing in one week. Thats quite impressive by any standards.

Its strange the junk mail never goes missing...

D&D

Some people view D&D as a geeky thing spotty kids do dressed up in tablecloths clustered round a candle, some dice, using the back of a maths jotter crammed in the broom cupboard under the stairs with the ironing board. In my experience this was never the case, and with the exception of one very intense chap who was quickly ostracised, most games I played were generally spent with tea, biscuits in the living room or out in the sunshine.

Whilst the occasional map/miniature is required, generally all that is needed is your imagination, and hell its a lot better for kids than the TV. Left to our devices, we would while away hours in winter evenings or summer holidays slaying evil and rescuing damsels in distress, with the one occasion where my ranger turned into a werewolf and massacred a nunnery, but I digress. As well as imagination it honed deductive reasoning, painting/artwork skills, problem solving and characterisation/empathy. Its also fun IMHO. I'm not saying it was the key of all knowledge and learning, but it doesn't hurt. Plus I have never felt the urge to either idolise, talk like, or dress up like Timmy Mallet/a Telly Tubby/a pokemon/insert later child craze.

The one obstacle that I always remember, is the issue of maps, specifically dungeons, as they tended to curtail spontaneity and imagination as you realised the DM meant 30ms to his left, so out comes the eraser... (this is overcome if you use NSEW). Prior preparation of multiple copies and variants of maps was ok, but could be labour (and materials) expensive. Its also steps away from the imagination, and more towards stereotypical board games. I never and the group around me, never felt this was a problem, but some die-hards, like ostracised boy above, felt it wasn't real 'D&D'. Part of the problem I guess is that there is a slight ambiguity in peoples imaginations, and I think the games flows better if people aren't arguing over the issues about whether Thrud the Barbarian stepped onto a trap given he wasn't 'anywhere near it'.

However, it appears in this technological age a solution is found.

To the untrained eye, what you have is taking a geeky game, mixing it with geeky technology, to create a geeky geek hell. To me it looks like a novel way to solve a problem and have more time for fun and social interaction with friends, in a harmless, non-ASBO inducing, non devil worshipping way.

A Voice From Beyond. Again.

Following the statement it was nice to see the BBC, whilst reporting the details, couldn't let it pass without wheeling out the footage of Diana's "three in the marriage" comment.

Thoughts 'n Things

Perhaps its just me, perhaps I am being too introspective and consequentially too introverted. Perhaps its just an itch. Perhaps I am being paranoid and overly self doubting, but thats the joy of paranoia, you never know. Normally, I would've thought this could be solved by some soul searching, but on this occasion I really don't think that it will help.

I don't like it, but I don't know what I can do to chan