Beware: Killer Dustbunny of Caerbannog

Forget Spellcheck. People should definitely consult an AbsurdityCheck before making the following announcements:

"The Waterloo & City line is currently suspended due to an excess of dust on the platforms"

"Barclays Ibanking could not log you off because you have been logged off. Please log on and try again."

Just two of the funnier things to which I've been subjected today.

Whoa! Nostalgia blast!

We called it finger 'bokatel' (phonetic rendition, as I never saw it written anywhere) but I'm told the rest of the world calls it carrom. The one we had looked a little different but played fundamentally the same. Think I need to buy one!

Taking civil liberties

It's quite something when people in the States express concern about the increasing threat to free expression and speech here in the UK. Really makes you stop and pay attention.

I'm not tone deaf

The internet says so! In fact, I'm almost completely untonedeaf (more commonly referred to as pitch perfect). I thought I knew this, but now I'm sure. A score of 95% says so. Come one, the internet can't be wrong, can it? Bring on your SingStar game, kitty! I'm on fire!

Game on!

Paul's inadvertant LAN party on Saturday was a rousing success, with two clear winners (one quite surprising). UT2003 is still as fun and addictive to play as its forebear, and quite a few hours were spent running away from the ubiquitous Bane. Glenn is lethal in FPS God mode! Mortal Kombat:Armageddon made an unlikely appearance and rapidly degenerated into a King of the Hill free-for-all that was, astoundingly, great fun. Good day.

And breeding

Having human DNA should not immediately grant an individual inalienable rights. Rights, it was decided, and equivalent responsibilities, should be given to "citizens", and only those above a certain level of intelligence could become citizens. Protests did result when some humans failed to qualify, whilst all AIs and some particularly bright pigs did

Brass Man, Neil Asher

Darn skippy!

Citizenship, here I come

Crazy/interesting/bizarre stuff I've discovered en route to passing my UK citizenship test today:

• It's perfectly acceptable to sue for divorce from your partner in the UK if they don't want to breed


• Hereditary peers no longer have the automatic right to attend debate at the House of Lords


• The UK parliament has the right to dissolve the Irish Assembly at will - and has done twice already since its inception


• The entire canal network in Britain was dug mainly by Irish labour


• The Commonwealth is second in member size only to the UN


• I'm expected to know more about British life than any average Brit to become a Brit

The last point - and a £34 test fee and £10 study guide - aside, I find that I don't actually begrudge the process. I have learned some pretty interesting stuff that will stay with me, and read a lot of trivia that has already, no doubt, evapourated.

Webghoti

Good catch today. Some nasty truths about the Wii come to light, flashers get their own fashion, buckyballs go all chicken-and-egg on us, printers and lights go anywhere, and Guess Who gets it right - they CAN sing!

Webghoti

Clone me up, Scotty?

So you think you know your films?

Try pick out the 50 movie reference in the Dark M&M puzzle, then.

Delicious nonsense

This notional minutes extract from the Thursday Next book The Well of Lost Plots (Jasper Fforde) exemplifies the writing that has had me in paroxysms of literary delight since I picked up the first book in the series:

'Item seven. The had had and that that problem. Lady Cavendish, weren't you working on this?'

Lady Cavendish stood up and gathered her thoughts.

'Indeed. The use of had had and that that has to be strictly controlled; they can interrupt the ImaginoTransference quite dramatically, causing readers to go back over the sentence in confusion, something we try to avoid.'

'Go on.'

'It's mostly an unlicensed usage problem. At the last count David Copperfield alone had had had had sixty-three times, all but ten unapproved. Pilgrim's Progress may also be a problem owing to its had had / that that ratio.

'So what's the problem in Progress?'

'That that had that that ten times but had had had had only thrice. Increased had had usage had had to be overlooked but not if the number exceeds that that that usage.'

'Hmm,' said the Bellman. 'I thought had had had had TGC's approval for use in Dickens? What's the problem?'

'Take the first had had and that that in the book by way of example,' explained Lady Cavendish. 'You would have thought that that first had had had had good occasion to be seen as had, had you not? Had had had approval but had had had not; equally it is true to say that that that that had had approval but that that other that that had not.'

'So the problem with that other that that was that-?'

'That that other-other that that had had approval.'

'Okay,' said the Bellman, whose head was in danger of falling apart like a chocolate orange, 'let me get this straight: David Copperfield, unlike Pilgrim's Progress, which had had had, had had had had. Had had had had TGC's approval?'

There was a very long pause.

This conversation makes a little more sense if you know the Jurisfiction oath:

'I swear by the Great Panjandrum that I shall uphold the rules of Jurisfiction, protect the BookWorld and defend every fictioneer, no matter how poorly written, against oppression. I shall not shirk from my duty, nor use my knowledge or position for personal gain. Secrets entrusted to me by the Council of Genres or Text Grand Central must remain secret within the service, and I will do all I can to maintain the power of storytelling within the minds and hearts of the readers.'

Says it all, really. Lear (Edward, not King), eat your heart out!

Webghoti

Someone's invented a net condom to enhance your PC safety when surfing the increasingly polluted interweb that, if it works as well as the copy claims, is a highly desirable and fairly sexy bit of kit.

Overheard

"If it has no written form, it's not a language."

Cretin.

Slave to the slave

Shackled by the Scroob: So here's how it is: you grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 123, go down five sentences, type out the next three for our reading pleasure.

Then Riane gathered herself, felt stirring in her depths essential fragments of the original Riane personality, a logical, deeply committed core, and she conjured up Earth Granary, the most potent healing spell in her limited sorcerous vocabulary. She had no idea of all of its properties or whether it was the correct spell for what ailed Eleana, but she had to believe it was better than nothing. She instructed the spell to enfold Eleana, felt it take her up in its cradling embrace

The Veil of a Thousand Tears, Eric van Lustbader

Yes, I'm having a reversive fantasy spate. Bite me!

Tag bumpycat, kadekraan and rumint, all of whom I am certain will be reading something at any given moment.

Webghoti

Get rid of the horribly slow and unwieldy Adobe Reader and use Foxit instead. So much sleeker.

Inside news about the Wii

I knew that VIP membership that came with the DS would came in handy one day. Well, I didn't, actually, but it has anyway.

Wii.com has gone live in preparation for launch later this year, and although the Europe site is still inactive, it should go live after this afternoon's European announcement. No need to wait, though, because all the same info is available in English on the North American site! If the Metro is to be believed, Nintendo have a pre-Xmas release in mind for the UK as well, at a touted cost of £115. I'm a little sceptical of the price, which seems to be a simple conversion of yesterday's confirmed US price of $250, but we should know more later today.

(later) The news is out, and my suspicions are confirmed. £180! That's $336! Bah, bloody tech companies taking the Brits for a ride as usual. Not that it's going to stop me buying one, but still. BAH! I say. At least it's going to be here before Xmas, a small consolation I guess.

Webghoti

Yahoo! Mail comes out of beta and is apparently better than Gmail (which seems to like being in beta), and the Democracy internet tv software gets an upgrade.

(while hastily erecting large Hazard symbols around Yahoo!Mail) Stand clear! Mind the irritating ads, please! Watch your head, miss. Annoying 'blurbs overhead, don'tcha know.

Webghoti

In my 'net today:

• iTunes 7, with appraisal: For those of us with iPods.


• Wii launch date confirmed this side of Xmas - for the Japanese, at least

Webghoti

In my 'net today:

• Late-breaking (and very topical) 20 things to do to your blog: Meant for newbies, but just as pertinent for deadites like me.
  

Gasp!

Not often you see this:

That's a mouthful!

Red vs Blue Episode 20:

Dufrane: I joined the army as a conscientious objector.

Tucker: A conscie- who?

Dufrane: I'm a pacifist.

Caboose: You're a thing that babies suck on?

Tucker: No, dude That's a paedophile.

Stephenson 1 : US Navy ___

Rail Gun in the Works

Defense Tech: Look Out, Pyongyang? Rail Gun in the Works

Yeah, but can you get it in a briefcase?

Future Futurama

Hey, everyone. I'm John DiMaggio, I'm the voice of Bender on the show, and yes it's true: WE'RE COMING BACK!

New episodes of Futurama coming to Comedy Central ... for real! - TV Squad

The fun continues! Huzzah!

Those whacky sales scripts

...

"Sir, I've entered your answers into our Backup Effectiveness calculator, and I can tell you that your backup solution scores 80% effective, against an industry standard of 95%. Basically, you lose points because you don't back up over the internet."

Cue giggles and much mirth my side.

...

Needless to say, she was calling from a company that sells online backup solutions.

Flock you!

Setting aside all the wonderful gutter humour that can be derived from the name of this Mozilla-based integrated browser/newsreader/blogger/kitchen sink, I've been trying it out for the past week, and have decided it's a worthy contender for my browser needs. I particularly like the built-in blogging functionality, and the drag-and-drop nature of clipping and picture posting. I'll stick with Bloglines for my RSS needs, but Flock's is pretty decent too.

I'm a Yo-Yo Spinner Winner!

Okay, so not quite Yo-Yo, but still strangely satisfying:

Congratulations! You have just won exclusive FIFA World Cup™ merchandise!

No idea what it is I've won yet, but the claim goes off today, and some trashy FIFA branded item should arrive in the next 3 months or so.

Gaming fun

I scan in adventure maps and Photoshop out all for the DM-only information (room numbers, secret doors, traps, etc.) and create a mask layer. We then suspend a digital projector (connected to my laptop) from the ceiling, pointing directly at the game table. I project the edited map onto the game table and scale it to match our miniatures. As the players explore the map, I erase portions of the mask layer, revealing the map beneath.

Digital Map Projection :: d20srd.org

Doesn't this sound just perfect?

So. Who's offering to go all high-tech for us?

Emigrated after Germany's win*

Experience the exciting world of X-Pole exercise and dance in your own home. Enjoy the exhilarating fun of a pole workout or spice up your parties and dance with your friends.

X-Pole Pole Dancing Pole - exercise and dance in your own home

Zara has found her calling. After going for a day's lesson yesterday, she is now determined to own one of these, and I'd be a fool to stop her. Hell, I may even buy her one!

* Ex-Pole. Geddit?

Blogged with Flock

Strictly Dance Fever fever

"Lana! Lana! Lana! (Oggie! Oggie! Oggie! Oy! Oy! Oy!)"

We could have been forgiven for thinking we were at a West Ham home game, sitting in the atrium of the Lakeside shopping centre yesterday evening. The fans were out in force to support homegirl Lana in the presentation dances of the finalists prior Saturday's closing contest, and the noise at times was stupendous.

Nevertheless, quick thinking on our part and an early arrival netted us railside seats two floors above the action. After a 2½ hour wait for a late start to proceedings, during which we had endured the attentions of the warm-up MC (and his warm-up before him), Graham Norton finally arrived to present the three couples, who would each perform their highest-scoring dance for us, in full regalia, and then give us a sneak preview of their new freestyle routines for Saturday's dance-off.

Ben and Stephanie's Lindy Hop was a little ragged, but full of energy. Stephanie was particularly impressive, and looked a far more complete dancer than Ben, even taking time to acknowledge the crowd mid-routine. Darien and Hollie's Milonga (I think) was smooth and sexy, and they worked well together, but it was missing the energy that Ben and Stephanie brought. Darren and Lana's Milonga, on the other hand, was almost chaotically energetic, no doubt because of Lana's desire to please her home crowd. Unfortunately it was all over the place, and had lost the passionate intensity it had when they first performed it, but I'm sure it'll be back for the final.

I won't say too much about the freestyle routines, not wanting to ruin the final for those watching it on Saturday. Let me just say that both Ben and Stephanie and Darien and Hollie had routines filled with stunning lifts, jumps and throws, and were marvellous to watch, if needing a little polish. Darien and Hollie were especially good, stealing my wife's vote after her vacillation so far. Darren and Lana disappointed a little. Although their timing was superb, their routine was a little simple, and needs to be kicked up a notch to complete with the other two. I can only hope they left out the tough stuff on purpose to avoid mistakes in front of Lana's family and friends, and that we have a pleasant surprise in store.

It was a very short show for such a long wait, but worth it, in the end. We're looking forward to the final all the more for having seen the finalists in live action.

Time shift on the London Underground

Work in progress - constructive criticism welcome

Synopsis

Arrival times for trains on the arrival boards at station platforms on the Underground are not directly representative of standard time increments but describe a modified time ('LUmin') which has a statistical relationship to standard time.

Theory

It should be a simple matter to predict the arrival time of the next train at a station on the Underground. The factors affecting an ideal system seem simple:

v₀ The velocity of the train at the moment of calculation
n The number of stations at which it has to call
s_n The distance between the train's position and each station
t_n-1The time it waits at each station preceding
v_n The maximum speed the train can safely run over each section of track (idealised as an average over the section)
a The acceleration of the train to v_n

Sadly abandoned due to the risk of being arrested for suspicious behaviour post-7/7

Advance notice

For once, we're being clued in on one of the sneaky codas the producers enjoy adding after the movie credits. X-Men: The Last Stand has joined the party - endure the credits to be invited.

Jesus is super, man

I've just discovered that a new Superman movie is in the offing, but a quick look at the trailer has me wondering exactly who paid for the filming, especially if the whole movie pushes the fundamental^* line in the trailer:

For this reason, I sent them you... My only son.

That had me giggling uncontrollably. I can't want for the press' reaction.

^* pun intended

Joke

It was a beautiful, warm spring morning. A man and his wife were spending the day at the zoo. She was wearing a loose-fitting, pink dress - sleeveless with straps. He was wearing his usual jeans and T-shirt. As they walked through the ape exhibit, they passed in front of a large, silverback gorilla.

Noticing the wife, the gorilla went crazy. He jumped on the bars, and holding on with one hand (and 2 feet), he grunted and pounded his chest with his free hand. He was obviously excited at the pretty lady in the pink dress. The husband, noticing the excitement, thought this was funny.

He suggested that his wife tease the poor fellow some more by puckering her lips and wriggling her bottom. She played along and the gorilla got even more excited, making noises that would wake the dead. Then the husband suggested that she let one of her straps fall to show a little more skin. She did, and the gorilla was about to tear the bars down.

"Now show your thighs and sort of fan your dress at him," he said. This drove the gorilla absolutely crazy, and he started doing flips. Then the husband grabbed his wife, ripped open the door to the cage, flung her in with the gorilla and slammed the cage door shut, and said to his wife:
"Now, tell him you have a headache!!!"

Does he mean to imply men should be no better than gorillas at controlling their impulses?

Jaw-dropping

Chris Bliss. Juggling.

And a retort.

Blacklist the BNP

Don't let the veneer of respectability and representation fool you. The BNP is as much about racism and white supremacy as ever. They dress it up in clothes of anti-immigration and equal rights, but the campaign literature fouling our letter boxes and streetlights focuses on one thing only - the coloured menace!

Don't give the BNP credibility by allowing them even a single vote in the coming local elections.

This announcement brought to you by Concerned Ordinary Citizens Kollective

Horrorfest

On a last-minute whim after a weekend of chemistry and America's Next Top Model, Zara and I decided to catch a horror double-bill. It was a classic Sunday-night movies-and-popcorn affair, and all the more fun for it. An American Haunting was elegantly crafted and an excellent rendition of an oft-told story, but fell a bit flat for being predictable as a result. Silent Hill, however, blew us both away. It was alternately creepy then chilling, eerie then frightening, plot then action, and it had more genuinely hellish scenes than almost any other movie I could care to mention since Event Horizon, which it resembled closely at times. Radha Mitchell was superb, every bit as good as she was in Pitch Black, and Jodelle Ferland put her wan orphan face to perfect use, outclassing her appearance in Kingdom Hospital, which was excellent to begin with. The effects were spot-on, the soundtrack matched the visuals perfectly, and the whole effect was to leave you physically breathless at times, completely swept away by the events on screen. For only the second time ever - the first being Donnie Darko - I walked out of a movie wanting to sweep straght into the nearest HMV and buy it. I'll certainly be watching it again at least once while it's still showing larger-than-life.

Flickrwhack

Parsimony

Seems the rules for Flickrwhacking are a little more lenient than Googlewhacking, requiring only single tag-single hit parameters.

Sneak preview

The epic holiday is over, and mundanity resumes. There will be some extensive blogging taking place over the next few days covering the highlights - the trip to Budapest and Good Friday at Warwick Castle - but those so inclined can get a taste of the forthcoming attractions:

Budapest

Warwick Castle

Bullfrogs

Because crickets were bad juju last time. So the frogs will serenade you all in my absence.

Stretch your mind

Clicking on things makes stuff happen:

Try to open the portal.

The '?' at the bottom right of the screen gives the instructions.
The symbol next to it (2 arrows) reloads the game if you get stuck.

Sequels exist: Hapland 2 and Hapland 3.

I've managed the first two, but the third is still spraining me, so if anyone works it out... DON'T TELL ME!

Beautiful game? Perhaps. Pity about the fans.

I dread travelling home late Wednesday nights. I keep forgetting how much I dislike it, and then I'll arrive at Upton Park after a West Ham game and get a 15-minute-long refresher course in my idea of hell.

Like tonight:

• Idiot Child smoking on the train and cackling to his mates, "Oy, 'oos smokin'?" while venting clouds of exhaust
• I ask Idiot Child to stop smoking, only to get a chorus of "Shuddup"s and "Fuck off"s from not only his mates but most of the 'adult' football fans in the carriage
• Having to listen to inane babblings of idiot Essex slag bragging at being escorted off a train miles shy of her destination for being caught smoking and then having no ticket, so having to walk all the way in her new shoes. Can't afford to pay her fare, but has new shoes. Exemplary.
• Idiot Child standing - still smoking - in the doorway of my train at my station while I'm trying to disembark, and refusing to move until I push him aside as the doors start closing, and then yelling abuse at me for my presumption.
• Having a half-full can of beer thrown at me from a window by Idiot Child's crony as the train departs (he missed)
• Being treated to the sight of an 'adult' male hauling it out and letting the urine fly directly under a main road streetlamp just outside my station for all the world to see and applaud (which his friend did)

I'm not blaming football, you have to understand. I think it's a pack animal response - make the mob big enough, and a couple of choice specimens will take advantage of the audience to make up for whatever inadequacies they're dealing with. Still. I dread travelling home late Wednesday nights. And it's not because of the theatre crowds heading home.

On holidays and change

Overdue for a new look, I think, so here's the new styling. I get the feeling already that it'll be temporary, but it's still a good technical exercise. Enjoy it while it lasts.

What Greg did

It's been 9 months since I last had any time off work, so this last week has been a balm for jangled nerves that I didn't even know were complaining. It's been quite a novel experience as well: it's the first week off I've had since Zara and I got together almost 12 years ago that I've spent essentially without her - alone. Cue lost, puzzled bewilderment. I was able to fill my days quite adequately, but there was a continual sense of something missing, something not quite right. I think I've had a tangible awakening to the truth in the adage, "A joy shared is a joy doubled." Thankfully, these solo vacations will be rare things indeed. I don't think I'm too fond of them.

That said, I've enjoyed the time immensely (just not as much as I would have with Zara by my side). It's been a mixture of work (applying for and getting my visa for our trip to Budapest in April, learning a smattering of Hungarian to get by while we're there, checking my work email to make sure nothing goes awry), play (going to see Edward Scissorhands with Zara, catching the excellent Good Night and Good Luck and the less excellent Syriana, a lovely lunch in a Persian restaurant) and sheer indulgence (my first experience ever of sleeping until midday, an entire afternoon curled up under a blanket watching the Oscars). It's been an effective tonic for my work ennui, at least for the two weeks until my next vacation - Zara and I are off to Budapest for our anniversary! (You may have guessed that from the visa and Hungarian comments)

It's our 5^th, and the first year since arriving in the UK that we haven't had the need to be in South Africa, so we finally have funds to do what we've wanted to all along - see Europe. Our first thought was "Rejkjavik" but the extortianate travel and living costs dissuaded us so we planned on somewhere like Prague instead, and ended up with tickets to Budapest. Another first for Zara and me: a week holiday abroad that involves just the two of us. No family, no friends, no obligations, no compromise, just what we want to do when we want to do it. We have plans to wander castle catacombs at night by oil lamplight, witness the atrocities of the secret police at the Terror Museum, warm ourselves in one of the many thermal baths, stroll around the rose and Japanese gardens on Margaret Island and, most importantly, just wander around soaking in the people and the culture. We only have a week (only 5 days, in fact, but we're pretending) but it's the most exciting thing we've done in ages, so it really doesn't matter.

Technical exercise

Noun phrase. Act of practical training for its own sake; to hone a manual skill. E.g. replacing a perfectly functional battery on an ipod.

After letting the new battery charge overnight, I checked it yesterday morning to make sure it had taken a charge - it had - and then attached it to Zara's laptop expecting it to synchronise completely and correctly. It started just fine but, within 15 minutes or so, the battery indicator on the screen was showing 'empty' and it had barely cleared the first 1000 tracks. On the verge of despair, I cancelled the transfer, ready to declare it a short on the circuit board and advise Zara of the need for a new player. Then I noticed that the ipod had retained the tracks transferred instead of losing them. I had stopped the transfer before it had powered down, so it was able to write the track list to the hard drive and save the tracks.

Relay transfers were in order. Three charge-and-transfer sets later, and we're finally up and running. Huzzah!

A little web browsing gave the reason for the problem. The write cycle on the ipod is quite power-hungry and synchronising a 20Gb music database from scratch takes too long on an unpowered port for the battery life of the ipod. It's not a problem on a day-to-day basis, where you've added at most 1 or 2 cd's to your list, just when you're attaching the ipod to a new database. I wish I'd discovered that before dismembering the damn thing.

Changing an Ipod Battery for Dummies

The 3rd gen replacement Li-ion pack from Maplin, bought for a mere £19.99, still in its packaging. The green stick-y blobs to each side of the black battery are plastic tools for levering open the ipod case. Before breaking the seal, and rendering the pack unreturnable, I tried resetting the ipod to factory setting (toggle Hold switch and then hold Menu and Play for 5-10 seconds) and installing the latest firmware updates, but this had absolutely no impact on the battery times. I was convinced the battery was dead.

Having tried the non-invasive methods without fixing the problem, I unpacked the battery kit to start the tricky process of hacking into the ipod case. The two tools provided can be clearly seen - 1 thin delicate tool for the first 'incision' and a bulkier wedge for hardcore levering action. The instructions come with fairly clear pictures, which is just as well, because the actual instructions are a little unclear in the specifics.

Getting the front cover open needs to be approached from the right side facing to avoid the audio ribbon cable. The Hold button should be in the 'hold' (red) position. The trick is to insert one tool about 2/3 of the way down, force open the bottom plate, and then slide the other tool all the way along the side to the top, which disengages the top clip and 2 or 3 of the others. Its then a trivial process to get the rest of the clips to detach. The 5 clips are all attached to the top (white) face and hook into rails on the bottom (metal) case.

Gently tilting the front ipod cover on its face and lifting the aluminium back reveals the hard drive and the fragile audio ribbon. The instructions warn that the ribbon should not be detached, so there's quite a bit of awkwardness in handling both halves without damaging it, but it's a little more flexible than the instructions mention, and will take a little careful manipulation without breaking.

Standing the opened ipod on its side protects the audio ribbon and allows access to the hard drive for removal. The hard drive is encased in an absorptive rubber frame which adheres to it loosely, and should be kept with the hard drive and not removed any more than is absolutely necessary, as the fit is tricky.

The hard drive can be lifted away from the circuit board and battery to reveal the (dead) battery. The copper connector links the hard drive to the circuit board via a connector and can be gently lifted away using the visible copper flap.

Once you've removed the old battery, the entire process operates easily in reverse: attach the new battery, dress the leads under the circuit board, replace the battery in the appropriate cell, reconnect the hard drive, bed it down on top of the battery, and replace the cover, which clips easily as long as the battery leads are properly dressed and the Hold switch is still on (red).

Changing a 3rd gen ipod battery

Zara's ipod battery, after progressively worse performance, has finally gasped its last. Not willing to pay £49 to have an authorised reseller replace it, I've spent £20 on the 30% improved Li-ion cell, and am going to be changing it myself.

Wish me luck.

Pictures may ensue...

... and they have.

Figure skating, infidelity and the Holocaust

It's rather disconcerting when the right thing happens for the wrong reasons. For example, hearing¹ that this figure skater in the Ladies' Event at the Winter Olympics last night was not yet sixteen reminded Zara of a recent incident involving a man sent to prison for conducting an online affair with a young girl for two years that resulted in his imprisonment for sexual conduct with a minor - she was 15 when they finally met and got physical. His defence was that she had never told him her age and, in person, he could not tell she was underage (she no more looked fifteen than Galina Efremenko does).

It transpires that he was married and was, in fact, being unfaithful to his wife during the whole sordid matter. Our laws do not allow for imprisonment for infidelity to a spouse, but it's rather satisfying to me that, as a consequence of this rather shaky verdict, he is being sent to prison and, indirectly, being punished for cheating on his wife.

That's worrying, because my outrage at the length of his term (15 years - totally out of keeping with the transgression, a knee-jerk response to the whiff of paedophilia) should not in any way be ameliorated by other circumstances. And yet, a little part of my heart glows warmly at his downfall.

Which brings us to David Irving's imprisonment for flouting Austrian law. This article captures that dissonant feeling nicely but fails to take it further; that the satisfied feeling at his imprisonment should ring alarm bells far and wide. Sure, we don't like what he says, or the fact that he says it to neo-Nazis, or that he has been seen to be supportive of the far-right agenda to discount the Holocaust as propaganda. So let's not buy his book, or attend his seminars or pay attention to his interviews. Legal recourse just seems too much like pouring petrol on a spark; a good way to start a conflagration.

¹It turns out that the commentator made a mistake in calculating her age, and I perpetuated it by not checking his maths. It makes no difference to the thrust of the argument.

What am I like?

Well, there's been no movement on these for a few days, so I'm assuming I've had all the responses I'm going to get.

And here are the pertinent results:

Johari Window
created on 19.2.2006, 15 respondents.

Open1 (known to self and others) calm, helpful (20%), intelligent (33%), patient, self-conscious, trustworthy (20%)	Blind Spot (known only to others) accepting (20%), caring (26%), complex (46%), confident (33%), independent (33%), logical (26%), observant (46%), reflective (26%), self-assertive (20%), witty (26%)
Hidden1 (known only to self)	Unknown (known to nobody) adaptable, brave, dignified, kind, mature, modest, nervous, powerful, relaxed, religious, responsive, sentimental, shy, silly, spontaneous, sympathetic, tense, warm, wise

full data

Open: I'm pleased to see that the 6 traits I chose for myself are all evident (to some degree) to those around me. This apparently means I have no secrets from my friends and colleagues. And no depth or mystery. I can live with that. Of course, there are very few negative traits in the Johari selection, so it could also be that I'm better at sharing my ups than my downs. I was gratified that a full third of you agree that I'm intelligent, but far more pleased that you think I'm trustworthy and helpful, as these are the two attributes I care about the most.

Hidden: nothing. Nuff said.

Blind: There are a few traits I would have chosen (if not limited to six) that appear - independent and logical come to mind - but far more that surprised the hell out of me. Observant?! That's one I would never have thought applied to me. Sure, I see things around me and comment on them, but I don't think I notice significantly more than others; I just mention them more. Complex?! I always thought of myself as fairly simple. Like an onion, I'm layers of simplicity. Maybe that looks complex from the outside. I'm also not so sure about witty.

Unknown: Again, a few traits no-one else chose that would have made it into my 'Hidden' if I'd been able to exceed six choices. I like to think I've hidden them too well for you all to notice. Of course, you were all constrained by the same limitation on choice that I was, so it's difficult to guess how many of these would have made it through with free choice.

Nohari Window
created on 19.2.2006, 7 respondents.

Open1 (known to self and others) withdrawn, blasé (42%), passive, dispassionate (57%)	Blind Spot (known only to others) aloof (57%), cynical (42%), distant (71%), self-satisfied (28%), smug (28%)
Hidden1 (known only to self) lethargic, unhappy	Unknown (known to nobody) incompetent, cowardly, violent, stupid, simple, irresponsible, vulgar, hostile, unhelpful, needy, unimaginative, inane, brash, cruel, ignorant, irrational, childish, imperceptive, chaotic, weak, embarrassed, vacuous, unethical, insensitive, rash, dull, predictable, callous, inattentive, unreliable, cold, foolish, humourless

full data.

Given less than half the respondents of the Johari variant, I'm hard-pressed to glean anything of meaning from my Nohari Window. I'll give it a quick go, though.

I got a powerful sense of the confusion that can result from semantic differences. Given a choice between withdrawn, aloof and distant, I chose withdrawn, since I feel that is an accurate description for the way I react when confronted with an uncomfortable or threatening situation: I withdraw. Most of you chose to call me distant or aloof (in 2 cases, both!) or even smug, and I can absolutely see how I might seem that way from your perspective when I withdraw. Again, blasé was my choice to describe my laissez-faire attitude to the world, which seems to come across as cynical to you all, except that I'm quite idealistic and sentimental, in my own opinion of course.

If I had my choice, I'd operate Olympic Ski Jump style rules, and throw out the least accurate assessments in each category. A few of the choices were a little strange - panicky, kitty? - but Anon really went to town with a complete selection that made very little sense at all, not only to me but also to those who know me best. Either Anon really doesn't know me very well - a fair possibility - or just had fun making some particularly unsavoury choices. Sorry, Anon; waaay off base.

Overall, then, I've learned that I'm not that deluded in my self-image but need to be more aware of the way that my withdrawal can seem dismissive to others and take greater care to reassure you when I do so, and maybe display a little more of the affection and excitement and awe that I constantly feel.

Fun exercise.

¹The observant among you will notice some small changes to the window headers. The 'Arena' and 'Facade' descriptors didn't give a very clear indication of the purpose of their windows, and caused some confusion about interpretation of the results. On reading this, I've found better headers for these windows ('Open' and 'Hidden') and some interesting information about the exercise itself.

The coins of the fathers

Reading about the coins 'buried' in an Alexander the Great era wall reminded me of a recent article in the Metro about the literally billions of pounds of British money lying around behind sofa cushions and forgotten in old jacket pockets*.

...

Hiss. Wheeze.

Hiss. Wheeze.

Hiss. Whee-

Crackle. "Hey, Jackson!" Click.

Static.

Crackle. "Jackson! C'mere, man. You've gotta see this!" Click.

"What is it?"

Crackle. "Jeeezus! Sorry, you startled me. Check this out! Coins, man. Coins!" Click.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Damn, boy, keep your pants dry."

Hiss. Wheeze.

"Okay, show me."

Crackle. "Look, here. Buried in this, 'soh-fah', did I say that right? They left these pretty much everywhere, didn't they, Jackson?" Click.

"Not quite, boy. Careful with that! That's better. No, we've found them mostly in specific places. They seem to have been associated with the areas most frequented, and left behind as protective talismans or territorial markers. Ah, nice one you've found there. Yeah, the soh-fah specimens tend to be quite ubiquitous. Find a soh-fah, you're going to find coins. We think they were included in prayer circles or as spiritual defences, as they always surrounded one of their communal living spaces. It's all in Chapter 4 of your text, boy. You should know this."

Crackle. "Speaking of coins, Jackson, I found some loose change in the thigh pouch when I suited up this morning. Didn't you have this one last?" Click.

Hiss. Wheeze.

Hiss. Wheeze.

...

*Couldn't find the recent article, but things haven't really changed much since 2002.

Cineworld II - The Open Reply

Dear Mr. Knight,

Thank you for the email and I will try to address all your points.

UGC Cinema policy was never to allow any outside food in any auditoria. Since the company policy was not to post signs to this effect and to avoid confronting customers with policy, the cinemas were treated by many as picnic grounds with dangerous and sloppy foods being brought in on a regular basis. This was not the case at any other cinema chain.

To give you two key examples. UGC Cinemas had three times the number of slip and fall incidents than other cinemas and we were constantly replacing customer clothing damaged as a result of people sitting on pizzas, fried chicken, burgers, chips and fruit in the dark environment. Forgetting profits for a moment, those two elements alone cry out for a change in procedure, if not policy.

Ironically, I think most Unlimited Card holders would be offended if we warned them not to bring such items in. Most card holders have purchased this membership so they can see films in a clean and safe environment and many have voiced their opinion that no food should be admitted or sold at all. Neither UGC or Cineworld could stay in business that way.

Having stated this, we do not support or condone 100% searches (our Stevenage location is an exception) nor are we concerned with small snack items that people often carry with them at all times. I know many of our cinemas WILL hold items (within reason) until after the film. You did not mention which site subjected you to this "search" but I am assuming Eastbourne, due to the local paper's focus on this subject after one unfortunate recent event there. [Greg: details]

It is not our policy or intention to conduct Airport style checks but rather to let movie-goers know that some items are not suitable in a cinema. NO OUTSIDE FOOD signs are up at most cinemas at the ticket tearing point and refunds are always granted to anyone requesting one before the film starts.

Unlimited Cards will go on sale thirteen new Cineworld locations in March. We are committed to this program and although it does not provide immediate profits, it does promote movie-going and particularly helps the least mainstream ones. There are logistics in implementing these card sales that have slowed the program down. This does not imply any lack of commitment to it.

I hope I have helped explain our position further. I can assure you that our aim is to return our sites to what they were intended to be. A clean, safe, comfortable, and quiet big screen refuge of film where snacks are just an economic sideline. I think Unlimited Card holders in particular will appreciate this.

Regards,

Al Alvarez
V.P. of Operations

So, to paraphrase, it's really for our own good, we should be thankful for the new policy, sorry for any teething problems. Call me shallow, but I was just happy to get a response. That it was pertinent and polite was just a bonus. I don't necessarily buy any of it, but it's all plausible enough to have merit. I guess time will tell.

Update
According to the same Al Alvarez in this article, it's mostly about keeping the food eaten in the cinemas 'suitable', i.e. not messy enough to result in damage claims. So let's see what happens when I try to take in exactly the same snacks that they sell. They can't stop me on the basis of its unsuitability, can they now?

Who needs wire-fu?

Be amazed. I spent all 8+ minutes with my jaw on my desk.

Smug

Just for today, I'll accept 'jo's choice of adjective in my Nohari windows. I have a wife who went totally nuts last night and outdid me on Valentine's Day - a rare occurrence, and no less enjoyable for that.

I got home to find my chores done for me, my favourite dinner (lasagne and cheesecake with a fine bottle of red wine) laid on beautifully (decorated table, complete with appropriate flowers), selfless gifts (she got me a Nintendo game! Who else loves their husband enough to buy him games that may steal his attention away?) and moving cards (one of which was in exactly the same style as one of mine to her - we do this kind of thing a lot; a constant affirmation of our suitability for each other).

I love my valentine. Boo sucks to the humbugs!

Help me find my blind spots

My Johari and Nohari character clouds paint interesting pictures, or should do once you all get involved. I'd be curious to know what you see, good and bad. It's completely anonymous if you want, so you can be brutally honest. What an opportunity!

Simply delightful, delectable...

Del.icio.us. Why did it take me so long to come around to this? It's not as if I hadn't heard the word whispered in the aether, and I've been trawling the net for an online bookmarking* facility that would publish - selectively - to pretty much anywhere for a little while now, eventually resorting to doing it myself. Maybe the last time I looked, it hadn't evolved to a suitable level. That's no longer the case.

Hmm. gmail for email, flickr for pickers, del.icio.us for da links, 30 Boxes for my days, BirthdayAlarm for what it says on the box and blogger for my brain... Heaven help me if the web crashes! My extelligence relies on it.

*I'm sorry, blogrolling just doesn't cut it. Unless a vast array of tools becomes available with 'contributor' status , it just doesn't do what I want. del.icio.us does.

Laughing lest we cry

They might want us gone (and want us to want ourselves gone), but at least we'll go laughing! Out of a desire to find out more about the mind behind these treasures, I tracked down Nina Paley's site, to find some astounding animation. It's all worth watching, but I'll admit to a few favourites. fetch plays with perspective and preconception in the most delightful way, while Sita Sings the Blues is a master class in cultural fusion. My favourite, though, would have to be stork (also on the VHEMT site) for the memorable notion of storks as bombing squadrons and that stirring image of the fleeing deer.

Lovers of Anti-Valentine (oh so topical right now) and, more relevantly, 'tis the Season will also probably enjoy Nina's Christmas Resistance Movement, complete with blog.

Isn't there some kind of Talent Tax we can levy on the disproportionately blessed?

Fascinating reading

The Voluntary Human Extinction Movement

How can they fail with a spokesperson whose name sounds like 'Let's Unite'?

So pretty!

Satellite imagery of the earth by night.

Greg goes Electro

I tripped across Epsilon Minus while listening* to RantRadio Industrial, and was totally blown away by the track, so went hunting for more info, and stumbled across their Girlfriend Security Advisory System. In addition to being an amusing flash parody, it's a passingly good piece of music too!

*Note to self: Need a Music category on the Link menu.

I think exhaustion makes me paranoid

This morning, while running Ad-Aware on a company pc - that already has the all-clear from another spyware-blocker - to flush out a spyware infection, it occurred to me that reporting a large number of threats, and then claiming to get rid of them, is excellent reassurance for the user of effectiveness and worth. So why not lie? Justify your cost and show up your competitors in one simple step. Cunning as a bag of stoats.

Then, this afternoon, after a day plagued with internet connectivity problems, a call to BT's support line had the issue resolved in 5 minutes - at £3.62 a minute! The fact that the support guy got me to enter a new network login and password on their router without checking any of the more obvious possibilities first implies that they knew the solution all along, having caused the problem themselves by patching their DNS server last night, but chose to wait until clients called in instead of notifying them, in order to hush up the consequences and make a few easy quid on the side - like £18 a client times their client base.

Or maybe I'm just tired.

Romantic, or just 'ick'?

snaffled off The Ranting Gentleman with art's permission, because it says exactly what I think

Who needs Valentine's Day?

Well, possibly Hallmark, for one. Thornton's and InterFlora do well out of it. As, I'm sure, do Radisson Edwardian, the Hilton Group, and their ilk. The bump in profits is welcome, but do they need it to make ends meet? Not really.

"The lovers!" the vendors cry, bringing coal and Newcastle to mind. Lovers (should) do the little romantic things that Valentine's day implies as easily as breathing. The romance flows, spontaneous gestures of affection are frequent, songs are sung, gifts are given and bedsprings are tested the other 364 days of every year as well. So, no, the lovers could care less, and in some cases are the loudest denigrators:

"Where's the romance?"
"Romance is spontaneous. Planning it defeats it."
"If it's expected, it's meaningless."

Well, how about all those people who don't care about spontaneity, or those for whom just the effort of remembering on that one day is a significant achievement, or those who don't get any special treatment the rest of the year and value Valentine's Day for the impetus it provides? Nothing says "I don't love you" like not even¹ trying on Valentine's Day. Not very romantic, I know.

Maybe the problem with Valentine's Day is that people have come to equate it with romance.

For me, Valentine's Day is like your birthday, or Christmas; a day you can look forward to ages in advance, knowing you're going to be spoiled rotten on the day. You get to get steadily more excited, you get to wonder how your partners are going to show you they love you this year, and - best of all - you get to plan what you're going to do to show them. It's like everyone has their birthday all on the same day! And, once you're an adult, it gets the added bonus of being a guaranteed-sex day, normally the kind of sex that only happens spontaneously once or twice a year but, because it's Valentine's Day, you get to 'do something special' with forethought and careful planning.

So, romance be damned. It's clearly all about getting wet in advance. Oh, and cards, flowers, chocolates and cheap weekend breaks, of course.

¹ I'm probably as aware as anyone that not celebrating Valentine's Day is not an issue if you're consistently considerate. I've expressly used even to contrast usual behaviour with special effort, so no outraged rants about this, please.

Open letter to Cineworld management.

Messrs Wiener, Alvarez, Stefka and Jones et cie,

I appreciate that you are running a business and that, first and foremost, the goal of any business is to make money. As much money as possible, in fact, in order to satisfy investors and remain competitive. So you don't want cinema-goers bringing in their own food when attending your cinemas when there's a far more profitable source of snacks in the complex. Possibly not the greatest fiscal logic, given the cost/benefit ratio between assuming that, denied of their own food, the customers will buy yours at, let's face it, insanely inflated prices, and the loss of previously loyal UGC Unlimited members who are a steady source of subscription funds and resistant to unpleasant changes in policy. Nonetheless, it's your call, and it's a policy already in place at your non-UGC cinemas and in many other cinema groups. I have to assume that you've done the math and I've come up on the short-straw side of the equation. Fair enough.

It's the disturbingly unprofessional manner in which this policy has been implemented that has me wondering just how much longer your business is likely to remain profitable. Losing customers in a customer-driven industry is categorically not good for the bottom line.

Customers like my wife and I, who were stopped at a cordon after we had obtained our tickets, and asked to open our bags. When we asked why, the usher pointed at a notice that had been raised inside the cordon, attesting to your new 'no food' policy, and repeated the request. Since neither of us were carrying supermarket packets, we simply said we had no food with us, but the usher refused to let us through until we had allowed him to inspect the contacts of our packets - clothes and shoes - and confirm that we were not lying to him. I don't need to tell you that this complete disavowal of our honesty was not appreciated.

Or like the gentleman who was being held up just in front of us. The unfortunate ticket-holder was as unaware of your change in policy as we were and, unlike us, had brought food with him. The ushers would not let him through - in accordance with the policy. Is it also policy, then, to suggest that he leave the parcel outside the complex, on the sidewalk, and fetch it when the movie is over, if it's still there, with no offer to store the package in the manager's office or behind the counter? Is it part of operating procedure to deny him a refund when he, understandably, decides not to chance it? The usher seemed to think so, and so another lost client.

All of this could so easily have been avoided with a little consideration for your customers. Sending out a form letter to existing UGC Unlimited members, notifying them of the impending change, would have been polite. A suitable note on your web site for the affected cinemas would have been picked up by many visitors planning their weekend's viewing. Setting up the notice in the foyer in a clearly visible location, and drawing attention to it and the change in policy when tickets are bought, that would have been prudent. Oh, and a grace period after implementation where ushers are granted discretion to allow customers unfamiliar with the change entry to the cinema or, at the very least, a refund if they so choose, that would have been the mark of a business that has its eye on a primary goal; keeping its clientele.

The fact that none of this occurred, and that the Unlimited scheme is still not being offered in existing Cineworld theatres, bodes for the future of the membership system and leaves me feeling bereft. I love that cinema and I love the ease and convenience of cinema membership, and it looks like corporate lust for short-term profits over sustainable income is going to spoil it.

Yours in mourning

P.S. Being told by your customer services that the reason for the 'no food' policy was the overwhelming number of complaints from customers about other cinema-goers bringing in food just adds to the insult. Why not claim that the reason you charge for tickets is that people complained about being let in for free? It's no less ridiculous, I assure you.

Wax on, wax off

A couple of weeks ago, my sister - who temps as a PA - was asked by her current employer, KPMG, to sit a series of in-house tests that assess her competence in her field for consideration as a permanent member of their staff. Lynette, who has been working as a PA at management level for years, breezed through the tests, only to be told she had failed them dismally and would be unlikely to be taken on should she apply.

Today she, along with everyone else in her team, gets this:

The CMS team are pleased to announce that the temp of the month award for January goes to Lynette Knight in London.
'Lynette came to me on very short notice and with no KPMG experience, to look after a Partner and his team. She is professional to the core, friendly, diplomatic while resilient, and copes well under pressure. She settles into any environment straight away and just gets on with the job no matter what the tasks. She is extremely pro-active, diligent and very personable. I have moved Lynette from pillar to post (always on short or no notice) to cover roles when people have been sick for odd days or longer periods she demonstrates a very high level of professionalism and forethought whatever role I place her in. She is willing to do any job no matter how large or small and has even cancelled a personal appointment to remain in the office to assist us when the pressure was on for end of day deadlines. More recently she has assisted me with settling in another temporary member of staff and showing her the ropes!. A valued lady, and a pleasure to have on my team'.

WTF?!

She's been unable to control her giggling all afternoon. I'd probably be less amused.

Very Happy Meal

A voucher for a free Happy Meal with my quarterpounder and fries today netted me (read: Zara) this pink Hello Kitty pencil case that looks remarkably like an emergency dildo. You know what I mean; an object that, in a pinch, will do as a convenient replacement for the real thing. Sheer boredom during class (read: lectures) has been known to raise libidos by orders of magnitude, and there isn't a fridge or grocer's to hand for a cucumber or mutantly large carrot . It seems that McD's (or Hello Kitty manufacturers, a more disturbing thought intrudes) is enhancing their customer service ethos by catering to these urges. I say, a salutary effort, if so. Bring on the vibrating Sonic the Hedgehog 'back massagers' and Pokémon pleasure pussies! Sex education for the nation, at a pound ninety-nine!

The Ant & The Grasshopper Fable

Because it's topical, and I know someone reading this will enjoy it, another roaming email pinned down here for general consumption:

Classic version
The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter. The grasshopper thinks he's a fool, and laughs and dances and plays the summer away. Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed. The shivering grasshopper has no food or shelter, so he dies out in the cold.

The end.

British version
The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter. The grasshopper thinks he's a fool, and laughs and dances and plays the summer away. Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed.

The shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while others less fortunate, like him, are cold and starving. The BBC shows up to provide live coverage of the shivering grasshopper, with cuts to a video of the ant in his comfortable warm home in Hampstead with a table laden with food. The British are stunned that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so while others have plenty.

The Liberal Party, the Respect Party, the Transvestites With Starving Babies Party, the Single Lesbian One Eyed Mothers Party and the Coalition Against Poverty demonstrate in front of the ant's house. The BBC, interrupting a Rastafarian cultural festival special from Grimsby with breaking news, broadcasts them singing "We Shall Overcome."

Ken Livingstone laments in an interview with Panorama that the ant has got rich off the backs of grasshoppers, and calls for an immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his "fair share". In response, the Labour Government drafts the Economic Equity and Grasshopper Anti-Discrimination Act, retroactive to the beginning of the summer.

The ant's taxes are reassessed, and he is also fined for failing to hire grasshoppers as helpers. Without enough money to pay the fine and his newly imposed retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by Camden Council. The ant moves to France, and starts a successful AgriBiz company [funded by the EU] (although within weeks, his business is threatened with Compulsory purchase by the state unless he marries a French ant).

The BBC later shows the now fat grasshopper finishing up the last of the ant's food, though Spring is still months away, while the government House he is in, which just happens to be the ant's old house, crumbles around him because he hasn't bothered to maintain it. Inadequate government funding is blamed, Diane Abbot is appointed to head a commission of enquiry That will cost £10,000,000.

The grasshopper is soon dead of a drug overdose, The Guardian blames it on the obvious failure of the Government to address the root causes of despair arising from social inequity. The abandoned house is taken over by a gang of immigrant spiders, praised by the government for enriching Britain's multicultural diversity, who promptly set up a marijuana-growing operation and terrorize the community.

The end?

And today's winner is... Google Video

After having heard very little about Google Video since its launch, suddenly today I am referred to two hosted shorts in a row. Alive in Joburg is a squidrillion times better than the last one, though. It's funny, and clever, and poignant, and witty, and insightful, and... oh, just go watch it, but have some tissues handy. Don't say I didn't warn you!

via the Scrivener

Lyric call

I need you to grind like you're working for tips

Nasty Girl - Notorious B-I-G feat. Diddy, Nelly, Jagged Edge & Avery Storm

Is this the owner of the house?

A little while back, I lifted some advice about handling telesales calls (amongst other things) from an email doing the rounds and, just recently in the press, the telesales counter script was discussed as another deterrent. Another potentially effective method of dealing with these time-jackers just occurred to me; coolly asking the caller to hold while you tranfer their call to a premium-rate line. I guarantee at least a stunned silence from the caller, if not splutter and confusion, as you press a random number on your pad and then return to say that the transfer is complete and they have your complete, undivided and, most importantly, remunerated attention for as long as they're happy to pay the premium rate.

*click*

I'm looking forward to testing it.

Poke the geek, why don'tcha?

If you have to descend to sterotypes and cliches to get a laugh, I suppose you could do worse than Fear of Girls.

It has a couple of funny moments, and I will admit to giggling almost uncontrollably at one point (God knows she's sterile - master retort), but once it had run through the credits and the distraction had ended, I realised just how insidious it is. What, it's not enough that role-players have this stigma, but now we have to laugh about it as well? It would hurt more if we role-players gave a damn what the rest of the world thinks, but since we get to shape our own reality anyway...

And I know that I'll get comments about how it's an intentional parody, or witty self-mockery, or some such other justification, so I'll say it now. Bollocks! It's poking the geek, just with a more technologically-advanced stick. Our ignorant forebears did it for generations for fun, and ignorant hicks everywhere still do.

Not cool. Funny as hell, but still not cool.

This is what a morning of reading The Ranting Gentlemen has done to me. Instant vehemence and bile. Thanks, guys.

Very short story

I had nothing better to do on my journey home this evening, so decided to try and write a story that I could SMS to people, if the urge struck i.e. a tale in less than 160 characters. I'm still working on that but, in the interim, here's one I wrote that just fits into a concatenation of 5 messages:

I met a demon on my train yesterday.

“Make a wish,” it whispered. “Any human trait will be yours in abundance.”
“Why do you offer this?“ I asked. It shrugged and told a tale of mischief and punishment, and then repeated the offer. “Any one thing, in full measure.”
“The price?” I queried.
“It is a gift,” the thing demurred, then added, softly, “if the wish is selfless.”
I pondered this, then made to disembark as the next station arrived.
“Wait!” called the creature. “Do you not want your heart’s desire?”
I answered sadly, “And there’s the trap. You know that I would not ask for that which I do not want, and I dare not ask for that which I do.”
And as the doors closed, I heard the being screech in fury as it flared and burned to ash.

There is no demon on my train today.

(later) I worked out that, to write a 160-character story, allowing for an average of 4 characters per word, you would have to tell you tale in 30 words or so, with a little leeway for punctuation. It seemed impossible, but a little online inspiration led to this:

Petals fall where once was sand, where once we toiled and now we stand, in shade.

Only 81 characters, without serious effort! And a full story, as far as I can tell. Progression, characterisation, human interest; all there, if a little roughly sketched. Now I'm determined to produce something a damn site smoother, using my whole allowance. Watch this space.

Hey, bigot! Leave them kids alone!

Pink pounds

Wonder if I'll get a raise if I come out?

Injuries (K)nights

Thursday night showed me up as a bit of an asshole.

I'd suffered delays getting home from work that evening, only to be turfed off the tube one stop shy of my home station, which was closed for some reason. While waiting for a bus to take me the last short distance, a helpful station attendant disclosed that there had been a stabbing in the vicinity of Upney station, hence the break in service. None too fussed, I hopped on the next 62 that came along, and settled down for the last short haul, only to leap up like a startled springbok when the bus sailed past Upney Lane, its normal route. I stormed down the stairs to confront the driver, who blithely admitted that he knew the road was closed to traffic, and hadn't thought to let the passengers know. Having disembarked at the junction lights, I marched down Upney Lane, in far less than the best of tempers.

Now, Upney Lane crosses the Underground and C2C lines at Upney Station by means of a small humpback bridge. There is no other way across within a 30 minute walk. So you can imagine my reaction when I reached the roadblock and was told that I could not be escorted across but had to go around. When I indignantly pointed out the size of the detour, and the length of time involved, I could see a flicker of irritation pass across the officer's face.

"Sir, " he replied curtly, "somebody's been stabbed. We have more important things to worry about."

Of course, he was absolutely right, not that it registered immediately. My dudgeon has risen way too high to allow that thought in easily. I swept off parallel to the tracks, intending to cut through the park to get to the next bridge, only to turn and head directly back the way I came as the park entrance was blocked with construction equipment. With detours and bus waits, I only got home after 10.

The time spent walking from blockade to bus stop and waiting in the cold cooled my ire, and gave me time to reflect. The station staff were clearly aware of the situation at Upney, and had not thought to advise travellers of the change in routes, which would have given those of us heading in that direction the chance to avoid additional delay. The police may have thought it superfluous to station an officer at the head of Upney Lane to divert pedestrians, and the officer who fielded my frustrated attempts to short-cut through the scene was probably as irritable as I was. None of that excuses my complete lack of compassion for the victim. I should have been horrified, and instead I was merely vexed. That makes me a bit of an asshole, a surprising and unpleasant discovery.

Not as much of an asshole as others, though.

Zara and I were invited to a Burns' Night celebration on Saturday evening. It was to have been a thronging, whisky-soaked event, replete with haggis, neeps and tatties. As it transpired, a good evening was had by all - all five of us, two of whom are currently teetotal! For a variety of reasons - some excellent (food poisoning and short-notice relocation) and some less so - only 3 of the 12 guests arrived. We managed to have a great time anyway. Magnificent kudos goes to Kevin for his tasty haggis, the surprisingly good turnips, 8 different single malts, the lyrical renditions of the Selkirk Grace and To a Haggis, and his overall good humour in spite of the dearth of drinking guests, and to Rachel for catering for the haggisphobes. I'm already looking forward to next year's event - we shall make it an even better one, and this time we'll be drinking!

So true

Superb Saturday

I'm not the most exciting person in the world. Or even the UK. Or London Barking 28 Meadow Road, for that matter. So a day of museum and movies, while not high on the list of adrenalin fixes, really floats my simple grey boat. I got to wander around the British Museum, visiting both the Americas and the Mesopotamian and Nile regions, and then swept myself away to the wide prairies of Wyoming and the streets of Kyoto, in Brokeback Mountain and Memoirs of a Geisha. I learnt that Bastet had a sister called Sakhmet, with the head of a lioness, who visited destruction on mankind at Re's request, that Inuit clothing had enlarged hoods to carry their offspring in, and broadened shoulders to assist in feeding said offspring (although I still don't know how), that it doesn't matter how fast or slow you go as long as you like the direction you're moving in, and that even the smallest kindness is a candle in the night of a hopeless life. If a day is wasted if no memory is made, I reckon I'm insured against at least a week of amnesia.

Shutterbug bite

The exit for Upney tube station is situated - as many of the eastmost stations on the District line are - on a bridge over the track, elevating it above the rest of the very flat alluvial plains north of the Thames on which the cheap worker housing was originally built. This gives a lovely vantage point for the occasional sights worth seeing, mostly fireworks and pollution-enhanced sunsets.

Tonight, as I was leaving the station, it gave me a clear view across the rooftops to a brilliant shaft of light stabbing down towards the park hidden behind the terraced houses from what I can only assume was a helicopter, as I could hear the syncopated percussion of blades but couldn't see the machine itself, it being well past sunset and all. I stood there for at least 5 minutes watching the spotlight, transfixed by the sight of the apparent pillar of unsupported luminescence dancing in the dark, before it occurred to me to snatch a picture of it with my mobile. All too quickly I discovered the abyss between a cameraphone and the real thing. All I could see in the display was the regular flash of a single pixel picking up the tail light on the chopper.

There was this moment of singular beauty, and it's relegated to the obscurity of my memory. I think I understood just then, just for a moment, the kind of mindset that drives photographers. What's more, sensitised by the event, the journey home became a series of still frames as my brain framed further shots. It wore off pretty quickly, but Ash, Stv, is this where you live? If so, how do you get anything else done? Why aren't you paralysed by the possibilities?

The male libido as a common sense filter

We were talking in the office today about that bit in Jersey Girl where Liv Tyler comes to Ben Affleck's house to apologise about harrassing him in the video store, and to ask him to do the porn questionnaire anyway. I said that it would creep me out if some store attendant abused their access to my address to effectively stalk me like that, but the other guys in the office said if a pretty woman tracked them to their house like that, they would be quite flattered. So, am I the freak, or are they?

6 columns of fame

Looks like some long-overdue recognition has finally made the papers. Page 31 of today's Evening Standard bears witness to a force of nature:

Cute slang

Beer coat

The invisible but comfortably warm coat worn when walking home after a night of drinking

Clerks 2?

Can it be? Apparently. The trailer threatens a 1:1 rehash of the first movie, so probably not a classic sequel, but certainly a typical one.

Multiple blogasm block

A small confession: I'm a multiple blogger. That's right, I have more than one blog, and I'm not embarrassed by it at all. It's convenient, prudent and friend-friendly. And twice the work of maintaining a single journal. So I've been looking for publishing software that allows me to create a single post and, at a press of a button, post it to both blogs simultaneously. You'd think all the major blogware would allow it, but apparently not. I'm not used to being unable to find something I'm looking for on the interweb, but this has me stumped. The best I've found is w.blogger, and it requires that I save a post before sending to each blog as a separate action, not my idea of efficient publishing at all. Maybe I'm just ahead of the curve. Again. Then again, maybe I'm just not looking hard enough.

Scaperesolution

At a time of year traditionally associated with turkey stew in the freezer, nude pine trees in the compost heap and half-baked, frenzied attempts carefully planned approaches at a new start, the pressure to subject yourself to a resolution of one sort or another is almost overwhelming.

My coping mechanism involves setting a seemingly reasonable target, and then finding myself unable to meet it because of all the other things I've set in motion that are definitely not in any way resolutions at all, I swear to the gods, even if they look like it from a 3^rd party perspective, it's all lies I tells ya. This year, I resolved to blog at least once a day, dooming it to failure from the start, and in that failure, I've succeeded.

What kept me from meeting this ill-fated obligation? Well, aside from the unforeseen New Year Cold 2006, and numerous hours force-feeding Zara's fledgling maths skills, we've had the alcohol drought - self-imposed, as a solidarity gesture for Zara's newest diet experiment - and learning to Lindy Hop. A mad remark on New Year's Eve has led to swing lessons. Well, will lead to swing lessons, as soon as 1^st semester exams are over. Xmas Gut 2005 seems to require some attempt at exercise, and dancing is as good a way as any, and better than most. Besides, who never wanted to wear a short skirt and ankle socks and be flung around like a cheerleader's baton? oh?! only the girls get that? Damn! Ahem!

As for an achievable blog resolution, expect to see far more inanity than hitherto. I'm tired of being sensible and edutaining in my blogs. 2006 will be the year of the prancing Greg. With a 1000 Nellies!