Tsunami appeal

One of my rare serious moments: Guys and gals - if you have some spare cash, consider helping here...

It really makes all the shit I moan about seem pretty insignificant.

Posts I haven't written yet

It's New Year's Eve. I'm having a party tonight, and have a pile of stuff to do, so don't have time to write as much as I had meant to. Here are some posts that I'll do when I have time. Actual titles may change at the whim of the author. Some posts may never exist.

1. Final list of challenges for 2005
2. What happens when I start drinking coffee again
3. 2004 review
4. Why I hate New Year's Eve
5. There were a load of others. But I've forgotten them.

Worst list ever.

How to make mince pies

With Christmas coming up (in about 360 days) I decided to bake some mince pies like a girl today. I like mince pies. Do you like mince pies? Would you like to make some mince pies like I did today? Here's my recipe for you. With a handy hint at the end.

My Recipe For Mince Pies

What you will need (equipment):

A big mixing bowl
A big knife
A small knife
A teaspoon
A spoon that's the next size up from teaspoon
A fork
*A rolling pin
*A wire cooling rack
A sieve
*A bun tray
*Pastry cutters
Weighing scales
A pastry brush
A mug

*You have to go and buy items marked with a * from the shop the day before because you don't have one.

What you will need (food):

125g of butter (this is half a block)
250g of plain flour
A little bit of cold water
Mincemeat
An egg
Icing Sugar (optional)
Some oil

What to do:

1. Get everything you need.
2. Wash your hands!
3. Weigh out the flour using weighing scales and sieve it into the mixing bowl with your sieve. It's best to check before starting that the jumblees haven't gone to sea in your sieve, as it's the kind of thing that they like to do.
4. Weigh out your butter. If you're lazy, you can just cut your full block in half. It'll be about right unless your judgment is way bad.
5. Cut the butter into little pieces and put them in the bowl with the flour. You can use either the big knife or the little knife, but be careful either way!
6. Using your fingertips, lightly rub the butter into the flour until there are no big lumps left and the mixture is like breadcrumbs.
7. Now be really careful with the next bit or you'll really bugger things up. Add water to the mixture a spoon or two at a time. Mix it in with your fingers. Keep doing this until it all clumps together into a big ball. This should be not too dry and not too sticky: It should be just right. Well done - you've just made a big ball of pastry. Don't eat it yet though, we're not finished!
8. Wrap the pastry in clingfilm and put it in the fridge for a while.
9. Go and do something else for a couple of hours. Clean your bathroom, or maybe do the hoovering.
10. With chores finished, it's time to continue with mince pies. (First, wash your hands again!) Remove pastry from fridge, unwrap it and divide into two halfs. Flour a work surface and roll it out flat with a rolling pin until it's quite thin. Maybe a third of a centimetre.
11. Use the pastry cutters to cut out big and little circles. Make sure you have the same number of each. This recipe should make about 14 of each.
12. Lubricate your bun tray with oil. Sunflower will do.
13. Put a large circle in each hole, and press them down until they fit.
14. Fill each pie with mincemeat.
15. Put a small circle on top of each pie (hopefully they'll fit good!)
16. Put some fork holes in the top of each one.
17. Beat an egg in a mug.
18. Using the pastry brush, wipe beaten egg over the top of each pie, especially at the edges where the big pastry circle meats the little pastry circle.
19. Cook them in a preheated oven at an appropriate temperature and time for the oven you are using. In my fan oven, I did them at around 180 degrees Celsius for just over 25 minutes. That seemed to work.
20. Carefully remove the pies from the oven, and when things have cooled sufficiently, transfer them from the bun tray to the top of the wire cooling rack.
21. When they are cooled, you can sprinkle icing sugar over the top. I don't think I'll do this though.
22. All done!

And that's my fine recipe. Here's a picture of what the finished pies look like:



Don't let the dog eat them!

And here's my handy hint:

Handy Hint for baking mince pies
It seems mincemeat can be hard to find in York after Christmas. I had to try four shops before I found any, and they only had 1.4kg tubs. That was slightly more than I needed, but I didn't have much choice. Thank god for Budgens! So buy minemeat early!

Festive 20, 2004

John Peel used to put together a Festive 50 each year. Even though he has now become dead (but not forgotten), his listeners have still put one together which is being played on Radio 1 this week.

I am not dead, and so I have been able to put together a Festive 20 of my own, on my own, just like last year. And the year before. It was quite hard to choose some of them this year - particularly at the lower end of the list. I had at least another ten songs that I wanted to include, but just didn't have space for.

The rules for eligibility are that they have to have been released as a single or on an album during the past year. Online or offline. And they can't have been included in a previous year's Festive 20.

Here we are, then, in reverse order. You might find it helpful to sing the Top of the Pops music in your head whilst reading.

20. Can't Stand Me now - The Libertines
19. Oxygen - Willy Mason
18. Leaving New York - REM
17. My Declaration - Tom Baxter
16. Mr Brightside - The Killers
15. Worry about the wind - Hal
14. Eve, the apple of my eye - Bell X1
13. Under the city - The Needles
12. Good Reason - Seafood
11. Lost in the plot - The Dears
10. Tonight - Easyworld
9. Freakin' Out - Graham Coxon
8. First of the gang to die - Morrissey
7. Godhopping - Dogs die in hot cars
6. Week in, week out - The Ordinary Boys
5. How did it ever come to this - Easyworld
4. Dry your eyes - The Streets
3. No Other Life is Attractive - Thirteen Senses
2. The Blower's Daughter - Damien Rice
1. Thru the glass - Thirteen Senses

I'll add here, that this list is probably not definitive. Because of the haphazard way in which I constructed it, there may be omissions and people I've missed that should really be in there. All I can say if that's the case is, Whoops!

I can honestly say that if you'd asked me whether Graham Coxon and Morrissey would be in my end of year list of good songs, I'd have given you a heartfelt "No way!". Makes you wonder who might shine in 2005.

12 Challenges for 2005

It's easy to get to the end of the year and think... What have I really achieved this year? 2004 has felt like something of a holding year - just marking time. It's not been a bad year, but it's not been lifechanging. I'll make a list soon of my x best achievements of the year. But I'll post it in 2005 since the year is not yet over.

At the end of 2005, I won't be saying that. Because it's time for Challenges! Here are my twelve challenges for the year (in no particular order):

12 challenges for 2005:

1. LIGHT: Buy lightshades for the flat.
2. BED: Obtain a second bed and make the second bedroom into an actual bedroom.
3. DATE: Go on a date with a real girl.
4. COUNTRY: Visit at least one new country.
5. PROMOTE: Get a promotion at work.
6. SKILL: Learn a new skill.
7. RADIO: Have my name read out on UK National Radio.
8. PUB: Have a drink in every pub within the city walls. With photographic Evidence.
9. COOK: Cook a meal for someone I meet for the first time in 2005.
10. SOBER: Have a (consecutive) seven day period with no alcohol.
11. MYSTERY: ???
12. MYSTERY: ???

Numbers 11 and 12 are currently mystery challenges!. They're a mystery because I don't know what they are yet. But one of you possibly does. I'm giving all of you the opportunity to set me a task, preferably one that I'll gain some benefit from, but I'm open to everything. Stick ideas in the comments and I'll choose the best and complete the list. (Also if you think any of the existing ones are rubbish, feel free to propose changes).

Clearly the tasks already there vary in difficulty and scope, but it's nice to have a variety I think. You might think, for example, that Challenge #1: LIGHT, looks quite easy. But it's been over eighteen months since I moved into the flat, and as yet I haven't even looked at shades. And for clarification, Challenge #8: PUB does not require all the pubs to be visited on the same day. And even though there is one challenge for each month of 2005, I don't expect to be tackling a new one each month.

Maybe in the New Year, we can have a competition as to how long it takes me to finish all twelve tasks.

Sock Purge

Since I have received and bought seventeen new pairs of socks over the past week, I thought it might be time to throw away some of the old ones - especially ones with holes, and especially the ones where all five toes poke out.

To this end, I conducted a Sock Purge earlier this afternoon. I pulled all the socks out of my sock drawer and then dumped them on the bed. Each pair (with only a couple of exceptions) then had to justify their right for a continued opportunity to occasionally be on the end of my legs for a day. eg:

Me: Hello socks with blue toes and blue heels. How are you?
Socks: We're fine, Sir. Thanks for asking.
Me: I'm afraid today is a sock purge.
Socks: What's a sock purge?
Me: I ask the questions! Silent, Socks.
Socks: ----
Me: Better. Right. Do you have any holes?
Socks: ... no?
Me: NO?
Socks: ...no ....well ....yes. A little one.
Me: THEN YOU'RE OUTA HERE.
Socks: You mean into the spare sock drawer?
Me: I don't have a spare sock drawer!
Socks: What will happen to us?
Me: You are going to the Great Sock Bin In The Sky!
Socks: That sounds nice.
Me: Yes. I expect it will be. Bye Bye Socks!
Socks: Wheeeeehhhhh!

And then I toss them onto the floor (which is why the Socks went "Wheeeeehhhhh!").

Other socks were rejected for just being old, for having no matching sock, or for just being in the pile of identical looking odd black socks at the back that I couldn't be arsed to pair up. I filled two plastic bags with discarded socks. And on counting up how many I have left, the answer is: Thirty Five Pairs. Enough to get me through any month of the year without washing.

It must be years and years since I last threw any socks away.

Most of the socks that made it through the purge are black with toes and heels a different colour (eg red) to make it easier to make pairs. I like this, as it probably halves the time it takes to sort out my washed washing. The pair I am wearing today also say "Tuesday" on them. In case I forget.

Back to the Hills

The hills are smaller than I remember them.
As a child of fourteen, they seemed taller,
Higher and more problematic.
As a child of ten, I'd sledge down them,
In cold snow, on plastic sledges,
Or just plastic bags.
Now the hills just seem like slopes.
No challenge, no exertion.
The distances between places are also
Less than they used to be.
When I was a kid it took me at least ten minutes
To walk to Rich's house.
Today it was just five minutes.
It's as if the whole town has shrunk
Like a heated crisp packet,
And I've stayed the same size.
Bars have also shrunk - I remember
Not being able to see over them to order crisps
Or Coke, or peanuts.
That's not a problem anymore -
I stopped ordering Coke when the hills got small.

Whenever There Is Danger he'll be there...

I watched Spiderman 2 for the first time last night. It's not a very Christmassy film, but... well, Spiderman's suit is red like Santa's. And it had an elf in it. Well, a goblin. Ok, just the son of a goblin.

It's, for the most part, quite a sad film. I would have cried several times had I been on my own. Since I was with my parents, I held it back. Poor Peter Parker, just trying to do the right thing, and causing himself nothing but pain in the meantime.

I hadn't expected much from Doctor Octopus, but he was actually rather impressive (Spidey himself was still a little ropey (webby?) in a couple of shots though). He had big tentacles. Hush, I said "tentacles".

Does anybody remember when Spiderman teamed up with The Transformers? I'd like to see that in the third film.

Since proper spiders have eight legs, I'd also like Spiderman to rescue the drowned tentacles, attach them to himself, paint them red and look like an actual eight-limbed spider. And then I'd like him to go and kick the crap out of Megatron. Whilst on the subject - why didn't Optimus Prime just wait until Megatron turned into a gun, and then step on him? Or lock him in the drawer of a Police Captain? Instant Decepticon problem solved, world saved, job's a good 'un.

The film easily makes it into my top three of the year, along with Shaun of the Dead and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Normal people might have a top five films. I only have three due to not watching as many films recently as a normal person would have done.

So this is Christmas

Merry Christmas everybody! I hope you are all having a great time.

This year, I'm spending the festive season being inebriated.

It's been a bit of a quiet one today compared to normal, with just four of us for dinner. Dinner was a goose. My goose verdict: tasty.

Last night we were out in a local pub. Sadly it was a place that was slightly too non-local to make it easy to get to, so getting home could have gone very wrong. Luckily, people who were slightly more sober than me somehow arranged for a taxi to come and get us. It was one of those evenings where the photos make you look sillier than you remember being. And I'm sure I wasn't dancing as much as the pictures make out.

Good Presents Received:
An optic.
A mini table tennis table.
A book of poems by Simon Armitage.
10 pairs of socks.
A talking Homer Simpson bottle opener.
Lots of misc others.

It strangely seems that the fewer of us are here for Christmas, the more presents we end up buying.

Nice things

Since it's the time of giving, I've just given my parents two fantastic new things:

1. Firefox.
2. A gmail account each.

I'm like an internet Santa. Time will tell if they actually use them or not. I think they're sold on Firefox... I might delete the IE icon from the desktop just in case :-)

Will it be snow?

It's Christmas Eve, babe. Here's my prediction for a White Christmas:

NO.

Sleepy. Not the Dwarf.

I've got a theory:

Pubs put sleepy drugs into beer at lunchtime.

This is the only sensible reason I can think of why lunchtime drinking makes me so sleepy by mid-afternoon. The only way to avoid the sleepiness is to keep on drinking through the day and into the night - clearly because they start putting anti-sleep drugs in the beer from around three o'clock.

Shouldn't this be an illegal practice? I know that it's wrong for me to slip drugs into the drink of a pretty girl if she's sober and it's lunchtime - shouldn't the same rules apply to pub landlords? How dare they put stuff in my beer!

I would elaborate on this topic further, but I'm too tired.

Tragedy Rocks

Finally! After waiting for well over a month, the album I ordered by The Crimea (Tragedy Rocks) has finally arrived. Recap: they are fantastic. End Recap.

Less happilly, when I opened my letterbox, it fell out and landed on my left foot. I was in socks and it hurt. Ow.

Oww....

Owwww. Banged my head. owwww,

More sensible post tommorrow...

The Sound of Christmas

Christmas songs are great. Not all of them, obviously. I never need or want to hear Mariah Carey again. I don't want her to sing normal songs, and I especially don't want to hear that all she wants for Christmas is Me. That thought just makes me feel ill.

Just so you know, here are my top 5 favourite Christmas songs. It's not really a very exciting list, and it contains few surprises. In reverse order:

5. Just Like Christmas - Low
4. O Come, O Come Emmanuel - Belle and Sebastian
3. I Believe in Father Christmas - Greg Lake
2. Stop the Cavalry - Jona Lewie
1. Fairytale of New York - The Pogues

Clearly I'm just trying to look cool with nos 5 and 4 there. In reality they should have been Chris DeBurgh's A Spaceman Came Travelling and East 17's Stay. Not really. Or double bluff?...

I'm always on the lookout for good new Christmas songs. Or good covers of old Christmas songs. Occasionally a whole album comes along at once (eg the XFM It's a Cool, Cool Christmas album from way back in 2000). And sometimes a great song will just turn up all alone, like Badly Drawn Boy's Donna and Blitzen.

Today I found a new album with a whole load of new songs to add to my Christmas jukebox. It's a compilation called Maybe This Christmas Tree and features a fair variety of artists. Some of whom I know (eg Death Cab for Cutie, Lisa Loeb) and some of whom I've never encountered (eg Jars of Clay, Copeland). Some of the songs are covers, some are songs I don't know - either new songs or covers of songs I don't know. And some are better than others.

Highlights? #1 Tom McRae covering Wonderful Christmastime in the style of someone who is having the most miserable holiday of their life. #2 Pilate covering Fairytale of NY. Now, personally, I think this is one song where nobody will ever better the original. However, this is a pretty decent effort, capturing the mood of the song in exactly the way that Ronan Keating didn't. More downbeat than the original, without the tradional Irish musical jaunty background that featured the first time around. It's a great version, and worth tracking down.

I'm sure there must be some other great Christmas albums or songs out there that I might have missed. Anyone got any favourites that I might not have come across?

------------------

Update
I have just found that the new album I have is actually the third in an apparently annual series. It follows Maybe this Christmas and Maybe this Christmas Too. One, Too, Tree. See what they've done there?

The course of new gloves never runs smooth...

I need to buy some new gloves since it's getting cold. Maybe not Arctic cold, but cold enough for me to think "Oh boy. It's cold today". Because I think in the style of Sam from Quantum Leap.
----
Quick aside: Do you ever wonder if every morning you have actually leapt, QL style, into a different person? Or is that just me?
----
Anyway, so I need to buy some gloves. I wanted to buy some at lunchtime but ended up too busy to make it beyond the sandwich shop. This is also not boding well for my Christmas shopping. Still four days to go though so not time to panic yet.

I do have some gloves at the moment, of the hand-knitted variety. I didn't wear them for a while since they were knitted by my ex-girlfriend's grandmother and for a while they brought back painful memories.

But more recently, I haven't been wearing them because they don't actually fit me very well. The fingers are too long and they're tight around the finger bases. There is no sensible reason for me to put up with that sort of thing any more - I won't be risking offending anybody by refusing to wear them, so I may as well switch to some that fit.

But I'll have to buy some new ones first. This, as usual, poses a whole raft of new questions: What type of glove? What colour? Well, ok, just two new questions. Let's tackle them one by one.

I'm a firm believer that there are only two colours grown boys can get away with in a glove: Black and grey. And choosing between them, well, who really cares? So that's an easy one.

Type of glove though, is harder. Woolly? Leather? Padded ski? Gardening? Driving? Rubber?

Rubber is just daft. I shouldn't have put it as an option. Although they are cheap, they clearly fail on the black/grey front. And as for gardening or driving, I don't have a garden and I also don't have a car. So strike those two.

I have no current plans to go skiing, so ski-gloves are not necessary. And they'd also be completely impractical for operating my iPod. Or indeed, my front door, coat pockets, coat buttons and anything and everything else - apart from ski poles. Which I don't have any of, since I'm not going skiing.

And leather? No. Don't like 'em.

So that leaves woolen gloves. But woolen gloves have one big, huge drawback: They are rubbish, awful for Snowball Fights! They just get wet, cold and you die of hand-pneumonia. And maybe frostbite too. I don't want that. I like having ten fingers. Having less than ten fingers would make the task of buying gloves even harder! Unless there are some highly specialist shops around, I'd have to resort to hand-knitted ones.

That, then, would rule out woolen gloves and leave me with no option but keeping my hands in my pockets (and that's a bad idea, as when it's slippy, which is oft when it's cold, I need my hands out of my pockets so that I can wave my arms around to keep my balance and not fall over).

Except: Wait, hang on, I'm 28 years old. I don't have snowball fights any more. I work in an office and then go home. If I do throw a snowball it's almost certainly after I've imbibed alcohol, when I probably don't care if I'm cold or wet. I'm old and dull and chucking lumps of ice around is sadly not part of my normal life any more. Where did the fun go? When did we stop enjoying the simple joys of life?

Fine. I may never be able to regain my lost youth, but at least it means I can comfortably settle on buying some brand new, warm, woolly gloves.

And in the meantime I'll wear my old ones and remember that once, a long time ago, a near-stranger made me a pair of gloves, and expected nothing in return.

A Sunday afternoon not spent lounging

This afternoon it was a Sunday afternoon, like what it is most times at this time of time. Last Sunday afternoon (and evening) I just stayed in and watched hobbits on telly. This week I went out into the actual world for a free gig. At Fibbers (again) doors opened at midday. It was strange to enter in daylight and leave in darkness. That is not uncommon on summer evenings, but I don't normally experience it in winter - normally it's enter in the dark and leave in the dark.

Playing today that I wanted to see were Four Day Hombre (Acoustic). They were, as ever, excellent. I seem to say that a lot about them. They managed to make an awful lot of noise for an acoustic gig. "First Word" today merged into a cover of Jeff Buckley's "Last Goodbye" rather than the usual Kate Bush. It gave me shivers.

FDH were supporting a chap called Jason Feddy who as far as I can tell is a Yorkshireman currently domiciled in California. I think he used to be big on the local scene here, but then for Reasons, went away.

It was very busy for a Sunday afternoon - busier than many evenings that I've been to at Fibbs. It was also clearly filled with Fans Of Jason. People who knew all the words, and were singing along at often intervals. At times when he had the crowd singing along, it felt like being at a Robbie Williams concert. He did have on his side the fact that he was really good though. He was also very funny between songs. "I realised that through all the times of misery and nightmare in my life, there was one common denominator. It was me".

He played for getting on two hours, which if it had been an evening, would have been too much for me at my time of attention span. But since it was an afternoon, he managed to get away with it. Being good helped too.

However, since it was well past four when he finished, I have lost another opportunity for Christmas shopping. I suspect I'm going to be busy on Thursday and Friday this week.

Xmas Shopping

I started my Christmas shopping today. I bought... a CD for me. It's a start...

The Problem With Linen

Linen shirts: good or evil? Discuss.

I won't discuss for long. In general, I like linen shirts. Comfy, light and available in a variety of colours. However. They do have one drawback. After you've worn one for approximately ten minutes, it looks like you've been sleeping in it for the last fifteen years. Even if you just do nothing after putting one on but stand in the corner, alone, away from all possible disturbances, people will inevitably ask you "have you ironed that?". The only sensible answer is "not in the last ten minutes".

It's like there are (evil) linen shirt pixies who follow you around and whenever you turn away, wave pixie magic at you to form strange folds and creases in your clothes. I know I shouldn't believe in pixies at my age, but with evidence like this, surely nobody can prove me wrong.

Now clearly, it is not practical to carry an iron around with you all day to conduct shirt flattening activities whenever they are needed. And it would also be impractical to either a) remove one's shirt to iron it at frequent intervals through the day/night; or b) iron one's shirt whilst wearing it at frequent intervals through the day/night. So I'm really not sure what people are supposed to do with the damn things.

Surely it should be within the reach of modern fabric technology to create non-creasing linen? There's definitely a market out there for it.

Or maybe I'm missing the point and it's supposed to look like a stampede of mad horses has traipsed over you.

Any tips on this one would be appreciated.

A cocktail for Christmas

I've never been one to believe in turning up to a party completely sober, especially at Christmas. This evening it's my final work Christmas dinner of the year, to be held at York's fantastic National Railway Museum.

So I decided to create a new cocktail to celebrate. Here are the instructions should you decide you want to try one:

Earl Grodka
1. Take one large shot-glass.
2. Take one Earl Grey teabag and lay it over the top of the glass.
3. Push it down a bit, into a slight cone shape - like filter coffee.
4. Pour vodka over the teabag. It should strain through into the glass.
5. Squeeze the teabag with a teaspoon.
6. Abandon teabag to the bin.
7. Add a single piece of ice.
8. Drink and enjoy.

Here's what it looks like:



And it don't taste half-bad!

It is highly possible that this cocktail has in fact been created before. If that is the case, then oh well!

File Security

We received some brand new lockable cabinets at work yesterday that we can lock up our files securely in overnight. These replace the old non-lockable open shelves we had before. This has meant that we've had to empty all the old cabinets so they can be removed. Soon we will have to go through all the old files and work out which ones are still needed and which ones can be binned. Since the majority of them pre-date most people in the team, I am expecting a lot of binning. That sounds like a "Week Before Christmas Task" if ever there was one.

One of the new cabinets is right by my desk, whilst the others are a bit further away - ie I would have to get off my chair to get to them. I have managed to claim the one by me to put my folders in to. Even better, I have also persuaded our secretary that it should also be our stationery cabinet. So I won't have to leave my desk to get my folders or new pens.

Boss: You seem to have ended with things placed very conveniently for you ____?
Me: Yes. You know why that is?
Boss: Because you're lazy?
Me: Yes. No. It's so that I don't waste time fetching things and so can do more work.
Boss: Hah. It's because you're lazy isn't it?
Me: yes.

Life would be sweet if there wasn't a desk re-org coming up which will no doubt leave me further from my things and my new pens than ever before.

Warning

This is a warning. Anybody who comments on this post is guaranteed to have bad luck for the rest of 2004. You have been warned.

A review of a gig what I went to last night (22)

Last night it was back to Fibbers for the (likely) penultimate time this year. It was time for... the mighty mighty Bluetones.

Support was from Sixty6 (again). Fifth time I've seen them this year, and I don't have much to add, other than that they are still pretty decent.

Then a band whom I was not aware of in any way - Velvetine. Female fronted, bit funky, bit jazzy. They grew on me quite a lot through their set, though a few of the songs I enjoyed less than others (as will always tend to be the way!). They had a guitarist who looked like a young Tom Baker. He wasn't doing any voice-overs unfortunately, but he did sing backing vocals. But not in a Tom Baker stylee. They also appeared to have a hobbit on drums. But then I see hobbits everywhere at the moment. In a couple of songs, the main girl singer sounded like Tallulah from Bugsy Malone. I actually mean that in a nice way though, rather than the nasty insult it may sound like.

It was great to see The 'Tones in a small venue. Last time I saw them was back in March 2002, on the greatest hits tour. They now seem to have pretty much given up on new stuff and are still doing greatest hits. Lucky they have ones that are so good then. The set was fantastic, and had 'most everything one might want - Are you blue or are you blind, Bluetonic, Solomon bites the worm, Slight Return, Keep the Homefires Burning, If... and many others.

They even did Putting out fires from the first album which may be my favourite one of them all. It's a song that always made me a little sad, even when I didn't understand it so well. And many memories throughout the set that I unfortunately don't have time to go into here. Ah, nostalgia...

I'd managed to get a big crowd of actuaries out last night, and so the AR(SE) score is a new record. We had 8 actuaries and 3 trainees (doesn't it sound fun?), giving a table-leading 9.5. Here is the table for the last ever time:

9.5: The Bluetones
5.0: Puressence
4.5: Trachetenburg Family Slideshow Players
3.5: Easyworld / Snow Patrol 1 / Graham Coxon / Keane / The Brakes / ED Davidson
3.0: The Open 2 / Thirteen Senses 1 / David Devant
2.5: Four Day Hombre 1 / Snow Patrol 2
2.0: Delays / Athlete / Dawn of the Replicants
1.5: The Ordinary Boys
1.0: The Open 1 / J. Richman / Four Day Hombre 2 / Simon & Garfunkel / Seafood / Thirteen Senses 2 / Cherry Falls

Bluetones: All hail their mightiness.

Note to self: Buy stamps

Since there are only twelve days left until Christmas, and I had more important things to do at the weekend, I figured that it was about time I bought some Christmas cards today. Since I haven’t made a card list, I’ve had to wing it a bit in terms of how many cards I needed, but I think I have sufficient. Actually, I think I have too many.

I stood looking at boxes of cards for a while, trying to work out which designs were most appropriate. And then I decided “sod that”. It’s not me that will have to have the cards I buy on a shelf or mantelpiece. I won’t have to stare at the little pictures I’ve bought, perched on my TV. The only people that are affected will be the receivers (ie my friends and family).

Nobody actually looks at the outside of Christmas cards anyway. You just rip them open, check the name, mentally cross them off your list of people you are expecting a card from, and then toss it onto a pile to be randomly put up later. So it really makes no difference what particular card I send.

Now boxes of cards were on a three for the price of two offer today, which meant I clearly had to get three boxes. So I have one posh box, one cheaper, not-so-posh box, and one box even cheaper still. Kind of like the English class system, but converted into folded cardboard. Well, when I say “cheaper”, take that to mean “more cards per box” since all three boxes were similarly priced.

But this does now mean I have to take active decisions on what card-expense level each person on my list (once I have a list) should get. This is much harder than deciding on pictures. The class of a card shines through in the quality of the envelope, the thickness of the cardboard, the degree of ribbons and tassles on the front. These things are instantly detectable. To send one of those cards where you can almost see through the cardboard is the ultimate insult (and so should be reserved for very carefully chosen people). Unless you can see through because there is an intricate lace-like network of holes in the front, in which case it’s clearly quite posh after all.

So once I have made my list, I will have to go through and carefully select who gets which type.

If you’re reading this and you don’t receive a card from me that has a delicate woven straw frontage, the scent of cinnamon inside and a padded gilded envelope, then it means I clearly don’t like you.

If you don’t receive a card at all, then it means I’ve either lost your address, never had your address, deliberately eaten your address, you live in some ridiculous foreign country, or I don’t know you well enough to send a card. Or that instead, I really, really, clearly don’t like you.

Or that I do like you and am playing hard to get.

Lessons learnt from LOTR 1 to LOTR 3

I alluded yesterday to my intention to watch all three of the Lord of the Rings films back to back. Extended DVD versions. I have now done this and would like to say: My ass hurts.

Having said that, it's been good to see them in one go, even if you do need a spare eleven hour piece of your life to do it in. And if because of this nobody gets any Christmas cards on time this year, then I apologise.

Here are some things that I learnt from my experience today.

- Since I first saw Fellowship four years ago (hard to believe it's that long...) I have thought Elrond the Elf was being played by Sam Neill. Turns out that not only is Elrond played by the Hugo Weaving, but Mr Neill is not even in the films. I only realised this today. And it's not the first time I've made this kind of mistake.

- Don't have the following thought in your head when the hobbits are on screen at the same time as normal sized people: "It's just like Dennis Waterman in Little Britain." If you have this thought, you may find yourself laughing in unexpected places. I'd pretty much got over it by the end though.

- Eleven hours is an awfully long time to watch a film for. If you're thinking of doing this yourself, I recommend getting a life instead. Or at least some friends to watch them with. The only person with me was for the last film only, and I think he was asleep for half of it.

- Even if you get to the local shop quite early on a Sunday, they still don't have any good sandwiches left. Strange how it didn't occur to me to buy some bread and filling instead until just now (which is slightly too late).

- Liv Tyler: Yum.

And they complete my lessons from today. You may learn them too if you like.

Cinema of Lint

I'm thinking that tomorrow (Sunday) I will watch the three Lord of the Rings extended DVDs. If I start at midday, I should finish by midnight (including some food breaks). If I don't do it tomorrow, then it's likely to not happen in 2004. So if anybody wants to come along, let me know. Or just come for particular films. Here's a schedule (which I reserve the right to fall behind on):

1200: The Fellowship Of The Ring
1600: The Two Towers
2000: The Return Of The King
0000: Sleep

That last one, I intend to do on my own.

Not a good night for hobbits

This evening I went over to Jimbobjo's to watch the final of X-Factor. Not for any particularly good reason, since I haven't watched the rest of the series (apart from a couple of glimpses), but I had nothing better to do.

His road seems to have moved slightly since last time I was over, which meant that I got a little lost on the way over and had to call him to ask for directions. This was clearly slightly wrong. Most roads in York are fixed in location, since they are made of tarmac and have heavy houses on them to fix them down. They are not like cardboard boxes or crisp packets that can be blown around by the wind. If you put a road in one place, you can normally be sure that it will be there the next day. This particular road had not obeyed these rules - possibly due to being built on slippy slip-ice.

Anyway, the final of X-factor was between Steve (a man) and G4 (four hobbits - three thin, one fat). G4 sing normal songs in an operatic style. Pretty ridiculous. The winner was... Steve. Actually quite hard to care too much, but at least his career should (like a hobbit) be short.

Wearing white poses many risks

I made my choice of dresswear for last night's work Chrstmas dinner. Started in a DJ, then after dinner, went home to get changed into something more casual, before heading back into town. Living close to the city centre definitely has many advantages.

Since I had changed into a white jumper, it was fairly predictable that I'd spill a pile of beer down it within five minutes of arriving back at the hotel we'd been eating in. Since I like to be predictable, this is then exactly what I did. Not on purpose though, that would just be daft.

Today, I have been mostly resting.

Dresswear Decisions

I have a (work) dinner tonight and I just don't know what to wear. Darn.

On a plus point, LOTR3 dvd has just arrived on my doorstep, paving the way for an 11-ish hour movie-a-thon at some point soon. Elf-tastic!

A visit from the plumber

They said it would never happen.

This afternoon, the plumber (from Drain Doctor) has been round to fix my dripping drip. As expected, it seemed to just require a change of washer, which took him only a few minutes. Definitely preferable to it having been water coming in from outside or from the upstairs flat's drainage. Or bubbling up from under the concrete in the lounge (that one was maybe slightly paranoid).

I should add, that said tradesman arrived bang on time. I do appreciate a punctual plumber.

As far as I can tell, the problem is now fully fixed, but I'll give it a couple of days before replacing the floors, just in case.

Sadly Mr Plumber was not the sexy young lady I'd hoped for. Instead he was an Australian gent, with full on Aussie accent and all. I can't actually read his signature on the invoice, but it disappointingly doesn't seem to say Bruce.

He was very dubious about the link I'd observed between the leak dripping and the Economy 7 kicking in on the hot water. As far as I can tell, it's a 100% correlation, but he said it must just be a coincidence. Whilst I accept that he is more of an expert on plumbing than myself, I think he was wrong on that one point.

I'm now fifty quid down, but he did give me a fridge magnet. Result.

Finger Typing

Just imagine the things I'd write here if I let my fingers type whatever they wanted. I bet I'd get in all sorts of trouble.

Let's give them a go anyway:

kdrghdhvid`;dkkxnckn,d lsdjjffj sljllsoeidlkfk erk krlk sklkd;s irli;drewpd,rur,v kd[s/fkdrit

Hmmm. It wasn't so bad after all. Unless my bastard subconscious has slipped some hidden message in there.

Leak Update

A couple of weeks ago I noticed that I had a small leakage problem in the kitchen. It took me a long time to work out where it was coming from, as it was only happening in the middle of the afternoon (when I am normally at work) or in the middle of the night (when I am normally in bed). By the time I'd get in/up (delete as appropriate) there was no longer any water coming out and things tended to have dried off to the extent that it wasn't possible to deduce the original source.

So for the last couple of weeks, I've had the kitchen floor in my second bedroom and the living room carpet lifted up quite a lot (which meant I had to move a load of other stuff too). Not life-ruiningly annoying, but it does look a bit messy and I wouldn't want to have people round.

On Saturday, I was actually around in the afternoon (the previous weekend I'd gone away to see my little nephew) and finally was able to spot some drippage, live and uncut. It was coming from the pipe that's connected to the kitchen tap that has a RED valve on it. I have assumed that this means it's the HOT water. Upon realising this, I put a bowl underneath the relevant bit and hey presto, problem solved. I could put all the floors back now if I wanted and be fairly safe.

However, even I, with my slightly lazy attitude, realise that this is not a long term solution. So I attempted to find the name of a good reliable plumber by asking friends the following question: "Can you recommend me a good plumber?". Only one person claimed actually to ever have needed one, and they weren't sure whether they'd recommend them or not. They did give me a phone number, and some possible names. I chose not to use this particular plumber (whoever he is).

So instead, tonight I actually got out The Phone Book, looked up Plumbers, and called one and spoke to him. He's coming over on Thursday afternoon. Would have been tomorrow, but I am busy all day (and it still doesn't seem that urgent to me).

I write this here now mainly to prove certain friends wrong. They implied that it would probably be into 2005 before I actually called someone. Or possibly even later. But I did call them! Yes, I am a proper sensible grown-up who is quite capable of calling a Tradesman when necessary.

Maybe I'll even get to make him a Cup Of Tea when he gets here. Just like on telly. Or maybe he'll send a fit girl plumber! I'd make her a Cup Of Tea too. I even have milk in my fridge.

I wonder if a plumber would make a good girlfriend? On the plus side, it'd be useful to have somebody around the house who was good with their hands. Also she would be well paid. On the negative side, she might get regularly woken in the night to deal with a Plumbing Emergency. This would wake me too, because I'd be in the same bed. I'd then have to unchain her and give her permission to leave.

And then I wouldn't be able to sleep until she returned and was safely chained up again (and a couple of hundred pounds better off too).

But overall, I think the positives would outweigh the negatives, so when the fit girl plumber turns up on Thursday afternoon I will woo her. A bit of Barry White should do the trick. Or maybe I could impress her with a pre-selected selection of plumbing songs: Pipes of Peace, Monkeywrench, Waterloo - that sort of thing.

In the meantime, I shall focus on locating my stopcock. I wonder where it is?

A local meeting for local people

Last night I attended a meeting of local residents in the back room of a nearby pub. Why was this? Let me tell you.

Engineering firm, Siemens, has been contracted by one of the rail companies to build a 24 hour train cleaning and refuelling facility off the train tracks near where I live. It would be on the site of an exisiting, smaller refuelling point. Currently the planning application has not yet been approved by the council, and residents have put in many objections to the application on the grounds of increased noise, pollution, traffic and potential negative impact to house prices. There are also zoning type issues which I shan't get into here.

So last night some of the management of the company had come down to meet us and discuss our objections, as well as updating us on the status of the application. And since it was in a pub, we could all have a quiet pint whilst they were speaking.

There were four of them from The Company - three middle aged execs and a Pretty Girl (cunning ploy there - who could believe a Pretty Girl could be involved in evil schemes?). There were also a couple of local councillors and about thirty to forty residents. And a chap from Radio York.

Now from listening to them give their presentation, you'd come away with the following conclusions:
- The new development will in fact be quieter than the current one.
- Road traffic will not be substantially increased.
- There's nothing to worry about.
- This is a great idea for everyone.

Which could all be true. But it is hard to tell whether they are
a) Trustworthy, honest people, doing their job in a way that causes minimal impact to the local environment, perhaps even improving things a little.
b) Evil corporate slaves, who are just trying to placate the local primitives so that the project can start on time and they'll get their bonuses.

I'd like to think it's a).

They also had contact numbers of residents' associations in other areas that are near similar developments that we could talk to and find out how lovely things would be (But they could be just fake people lying on the phone!). They even offered to take us out to other facilities to see how little impact they have (and I expect, instead, they'd take us to an isolated field and murder our bodies until they were dead!).

Although they answered many of the questions put to them, there were still some issues left outstanding, including perhaps most importantly, is this really an appropriate site given it's proximity to residential areas and the future plans the council has for the area? And even though noise levels are expected to reduce, many of the people (who are nearer than me) feel they are unacceptable to begin with, so a reduction may not be good enough.

Anyway, things'll probably work out. And I get more noise from cars than I do from the trains anyway.

There were a lot of people there who knew a hell of a lot about trains and the rail network. It was like they'd actually spent time researching the issues and reading the planning application.

On the way out, I narrowly avoided talking to the man from Radio York. I'd have probably said something like "Well they seemed like thoroughly nice chaps, and it was jolly nice of them to come all the way up here to visit us, I'm sure everything will work out alright. People do moan a bally lot, don't they! Anyway, got to go, I'm late for my quiz. Tally ho!". That is potentially not what they would have wanted to hear.

Expect further details on our progress on this matter in the new year.

PS: I'm not dead!

An Announcement

I feel that I should, after the previous post, state the following:

I'm not dead.

Blogs of the Dead

Most bloggers are mortal people, like myself. One day all of us will die, and write no more. However, in a lot of cases, the blogger will not know of his or her impending end, and so will not be able to inform their readers that they have "moved on".

Informing people that you are not dead is normally not necessary since the mere act of posting a post can only be done by alive people. You can deduce that at a time before 6pm today, I was not dead, because I have written these here words.

However, if I were to die this evening, you would not be able to determine this just from reading my blog. Likewise, if I find another person's blog that has not been updated for a while, with no explanation, I do not know if they are dead or just not writing.

Our own death is one of the most important events in our lives, and the majority of us will be unable to blog about it! Not very fair.

I think what is needed is some kind of dead man's trigger. All bloggers should have on their person a small transmitter that detects heartbeats. When the detector detects no more beats, it sends a signal to your Blogging package to publish a pre-prepared obituary and/or goodbye. This way, people would be have no uncertainty as to your deadness or aliveness.

Or alternatively, all bloggers should by law have to log on to a certain site every day to prove they are not dead. This site would be searchable by Blog Author and Blog Name, so if someone suspects you are dead they can just run a quick search and be sure.

But I wonder how many of the "dead blogs" (ie the ones that are no longer updated) out there are dead because their owner is actually dead? And are there any that are being updated by genuine dead people from beyond the grave?

True Love and High Adventure

I finally finished reading Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle yesterday. Rather than being about a bike that needs mending (boom boom) it's an epic historical yarn, set in the 17th and early 18th centuries, in various locales around the world. It weighs 3.4kg and runs to around 2600 pages.

The books precede his earlier Cryptonomicon (itself a fantastic read), and features ancestors of many of the characters from that book. They also feature many real historical figures, with perhaps Newton and Leibniz having the most significant roles. And throw in many royals (of various countries) and other nobles, vagabonds, pirates, soldiers and sailors. And the odd mysterious immortal.

I shan't actually attempt to summarise what actually happens in the books, but they are a fantastic read. The prose is written in a style that's very evocative of the era it's about. Stephenson clearly has a love of language and its evolution over time.

The main problem with them though is the sheer complexity of the story, and trying to keep track of who is who. Characters often have several different names (eg dukes can be referred to by their name or by their title). This tends to be ok if you read them in long sessions, but it gets very confusing if you're just dipping in and out for a chapter before bed each night.

Having reached the end, I'd love to be able to go back to the start and read them all again - I think I'd be able to follow things a bit better :-) But don't let that put you off. Go and read and learn some history too. I suspect that I now have lots of false, made-up, history in my head now which will no doubt make me look foolish at some point in the future.

What has been nice is that even though the three volumes have taken many years to write, they have all been released in 2004, thus letting me avoid the problem I often have with multi-volume stories. Namely forgetting what happened in the first book by the time the second one comes along. Certain other writers could take note of this for their future releases...

No clubbing for me

This post started out quite differently. As I'd mentioned earlier, I'd fancied going out clubbing this evening. However, out of the baker's dozen of us out tonight, it turned out that it was only me that was up for it. Pathetic. So this was going to be a person by person insult post. One insult per person, strictly alphabetical order.

Unfortunately, my browser crashed partway through me recollecting the relevant names. So I've had to start again. And I've taken it as a sign that I should change the contents of what I write.

So it's going to end up a bit emo. Sorry, please feel free to skip ahead to the next post. It's almost certainly more fun.

Despite having many good friends, especially the ones I'd been planning to insult, I still have that feeling that there's someone missing. Actually, it's more than that. There is someone missing. I just don't (maybe) know her yet. It's the person that you can come home to each night and talk shit to. The person that will complain at you for being out late and then coming home and talking shit.

And more importantly, the person that, since they exist, you will happily not go out in the first place as you'd rather stay in with them.

But it's no use me sitting here moaning about things, as the best way to meet new people is to actively go out and meet people. Where by "people" I mean "foxy young ladies". Which means getting out and about wherever possible.

Now, to be fair, Ziggy's ain't a good place to meet people. But it's a better place than my flat where I am now.

It's depressing to arrive home and have nothing better to do than cry yourself to sleep since an evening hasn't gone as well as hoped *.

As a (slightly related aside), I semi-seriously considered joining an internet dating agency earlier this week. Anyone got any good/bad experiences of such that they wanna share?

* exaggeration potentially here.

Out of time

Due to spending most of today either
a) in bed
b) reading on the sofa
c) in a barber's chair
d) reading on the sofa
in that order, I find myself in a position where I am going out very shortly and have no time to write any of the exceedingly witty and interesting posts that I was going to. None of them would have been about a) to d) above. Well, they will wait until tomorrow unless tonight is SO interesting that it needs writing about.

I fancy going clubbing again. Wonder if anyone will be up for it?

Noise: Make it stop!

I just attempted to pick up a colleague’s phone by typing my burglar alarm code on my own phone keypad rather than the more usual **3. I guess my subconscious must have been thinking; “Annoying ringing noise. How make stop?”.

If there’d been a snooze button nearby, I’d have probably hit it. But my desk doesn’t have one. Maybe I should phone IT and try and get them to install one.

The Start of Christmas

Today marks the official start of Christmas 2004 here in York, in my head at least. It's the first work Christmas dinner this evening. The next one is next week and the third one is the week after. Oh, and I guess there's actual Christmas the week after that too.

We're going in DJs tonight so I'm hoping that I can still remember how to tie a bow tie. I got pretty good a couple of years ago by doing lots of practice, but have only had cause to wear one intermittently since, so it could go either way.

The other sign that Christmas has started is the tinsel around my monitor. So far, as far as I have seen, nobody else in the whole building has put any up yet. I'm intending to get some more (along with a cheap advent calendar) but haven't had chance to go shopping at lunchtime for a few days, so that might have to wait until the weekend. I always miss the sparkly bits when they are taken down in January, even if they do tend to get in the way and stop you being able to see the corners of the monitor properly. Maybe I should just put the stuff up more carefully.

A Question of Pensions

I received the following text message a few minutes ago:

"Question: What's the best type of pension - final salary or career averaged revalued earnings?"

Now assuming that the sender of this question isn't currently stuck in his local pub quiz (if so, it is a stranger one than mine), then it's not really an easy question to answer within the space of a 160 character message.

For example, we really need to understand what he means by "best". And indeed, the specific terms of each type of scheme could I'm sure lead to one or the other being better in some ways. And are there other options to consider such as Money Purchase? What (if any) are the employee contribution rates? A hundred other questions?

And in any case, I am not allowed to give financial advice.

My simple answer would be "the one that gives you most money at retirement is best". But, dear readers, if anyone out there has a good generic answer to the question, please stick it in the comments, and maybe he'll see it.

No Three in a Series of Three

Earlier in the year, I'd mentioned that Neal Stephenson had made reference to the actuarial profession in his books Quicksilver and The Confusion. I'm now reading the third and final book in the sequence, The System Of The World, and he has very kindly put in a third reference for me:

"How much harm could a stiff drink possibly do you, at this stage of the game?" asked Roger Comstock, the Marquis of Ravenscar. "You and I are already off the charts of the Royal Society's annuity tables-- living affronts to the Actuarial Profession."

Three references in three books. Well done Sir.

Calendars for 2005: Check

Due to a mistaken belief that waiting until January would enable me to purchase the calendars I wanted for a pound each, I have had no calendars in the flat for 2004. I do have two for 2003 which have been left on the August and November pages through the year. This hasn't proved to be as much of a problem as I'd thought it might, as I can easily look dates up on the computer. However, the computer one doesn't have nice pictures of Buffy on it.

This year (to save me from fear) I've been more sensible and I purchased my two calendars at the end of November, whilst the ones I wanted were actually in stock. I had to pay five times my desired calendar purchase price (ie ten pounds for the two) but that is literally the price one has to pay to get good calendar.

Slightly predictably, I have got a Buffy one and an Angel one. I briefly toyed with the idea of getting a Spike one too, but deciced that would be a) overkill, b) slightly too gay and c) I'd have had to buy a fourth one too to benefit from the 2 for £10 offer.

So it's just the two for next year. Unless Santa decides I need more calendars. It's always hard to predict exactly what that bearded paragon of generosity will do.

Since both Buffy and Angel are no longer in production, this might be the last year I have such calendars. Maybe in 2006 I could get Some Art. I'm not really sure how you go about buying Some Art, but I have a year to work it out. I think the process may first involve finding something I like, and that may prove to be the hard part. It's not that I'm hugely fussy about Some Art, just that I'm unlikely to go out actively looking for it.

Another alternative may be that there'll be another great show for me to give the honour of "Calendar On My Wall" to. A title previously held only by Babylon 5 (as far as I can remember, anyway). Or maybe we'll all be dead from plague by 2006. You never can tell.

New Dalek Design

I've just seen a photo of the new Daleks. Not quite as exciting as I'd thought it would be, since they basically look the same as the old ones. But with more gold paint.

Although it hasn't had me awake at night, I was kind of hoping for them to look a bit sleeker and nastier. Rather than like a pepperpot with sticks on. I wonder if they will still have actual men inside making them work (by which I mean actors rather than the brain-type thing that would be inside a real Dalek)?

If I was looking at a CV and one of the applicant's previous jobs was "Dalek Driver", I think that person would get the job straight away. Especially if they still had the Dalek and could bring it into work for me to ride around the office in.

Apparently the TV Daleks can fly now too.

Mince Pies!

Soon it will be December, the month of finality.

And it's also the month of mince pies. We've set up a chart at work to record the amount of mince pies brought in. Currently, I'm in joint first place with two points. This means I have brought two lots of mince pies in. Mince!

I like mince pies.

Weird Dreams

Last night I had some fantastically coherent dreams. In one, I met Noel Gallagher in a queue for a gig. He was really nice to chat to. Not sure why he was queueing as Oasis were headlining in the venue. I also had a chat to one of the support bands. Like in real life, I knew them all, but unlike real life, they weren't all who they normally are. Dreams: eh???

The other dream was maybe part of the same one, or maybe different. It was incredibly coherent and could make the basis of a one hour TV show. It never will though, unless someone wants to get in touch and license the inside of my head.

If someone does want to get in touch, then please do. I don't think my idea could run for a whole season, but it could make one great episode.

The Incorrect Way To Use An Advent Calendar

My father brought home a chocolate advent calendar for my mother the other day. This is a gift which should give her great pleasure every day from the 1st December through to either the 24th or the 25th. Well, maybe "great" is a slight exaggeration, but you get the point.

As of teatime on the 27th November, she had scoffed all the chocolates and binned the calendar. That's just wrong.

I'd have got in so much trouble if I'd have done that as a kid.

Voucher Irritation

I was irritated this morning to find myself on the way to the supermarket having forgotten my voucher to save three pounds when I spent thirty. My irritation was relieved on finding I only spent twenty nine pounds and six pence.

5 Ways I Can Tell I'm Getting Old

1. I had completely forgotten it was the day of the first actuarial exams until I was reminded yesterday evening. They really need to start tightening standards... :-)
2. I find business plans quite exciting.
3. Early nights are also quite exciting.
4. This week I made my first ever official complaint about a planning application. (though thanks to the internet, this did not involve me lying in the mud in front of a yellow bulldozer).
5. I can't even get to number 5 on a list like this without having to cheat.

Friday!

Abandoned Bicycle

On the way home today, I passed a bicycle lying on its side in the street. From a distance away, it looked just like a normal bicycle. I thought it was a bit lax of someone to just leave their bike lying there like that - anyone could just ride away with it.

On closer inspection, this was not in fact the case, since the bicycle was missing a front wheel. Anyone attempting to ride it away would have had to be exceptionally good at balancing. This was still a bit strange though, as why would a wheel-less bike be just left lying around? Had someone just stolen a front wheel? Was the bike being stolen by a small weak person who could only carry one part of it at a time? Maybe it was the Borrowers? I was unsure.

When I was at university, bikes were very common and it was not unusual to see single front tyres chained to fences, where people had in fact stolen the entire rest of the bike. I often used to wonder what they did with these one-wheeled entities.

Well, now I have a theory: maybe each of those thieves carefully rides 200 miles north to York, balanced precariously on a one wheeled mountain bike. Upon reaching York, they ride around until they find an abandoned matching bike from which they can steal a matching wheel. They'd then have formed a full bike, and could use it to go to the shops, or to drug deals or whatever it is modern criminals do on bikes.

Yes, I expect that is what happened.

I don't think I'll ever fully understand the criminal mind.

Phone calls are like buses

I was chatting to someone at work today about how nobody ever phones me on my mobile phone. I walked away and went back to my desk, and literally a minute later I got a call. And then another one 10 minutes later (albeit from the same person). And then another one once I got home.

Tomorrow I plan to chat someone about how I don't have a girlfriend.

Although three would be excessive. Maybe I should be careful what I talk to people about. Perhaps there are special wishing people people out there who when you talk to them give you what you want. Like genies without the bottles and the obscure wish restriction rules.

The Biro Issue

So I was in a meeting today with some people I'd (mostly) not met before. Quite an important meeting, but not one where I needed to try hugely to impress. But on the other hand, I was keen to avoid looking like a complete doofus. I can save that for when they know me better. Anyway, I'd taken along my favoured meeting pen of choice, a 20p, work issue, Black Bic Crystal Biro, medium tip. It's a good workhorse of a pen. You know where you are with a Crystal Bic. And perhaps more importantly, you know when it's going to run out since you can see right through into the ink reservoir.

So near the start, one of the main guys, I'll call him J (since that's not his name - unless it is), spots I have a pen and that he has none, and then furthermore realises he needs a pen to write notes and can't, because he does not have a pen. Quite reasonably, he asks if he may borrow my pen. I say yes. It's just a black Bic, I'm not particularly attached to it in any way, it has no emotional resonance and it is in no sense a "lucky" pen. So I let J use my pen. I expect he was really grateful for this unexpected act of kindness, in fact, I could tell he was by the twinke in his smile.

I now didn't have a pen, but that's ok, I hadn't planned to write anything anyway. I'd only taken the pen along for appearances.

The meeting passes sucessfully.

At the end, I notice J has stuffed my biro into his filofax. This was not good as it put me in something of a dillemma. I could either

a) Ask for my biro back. Everyone would see me do this, and would think "My, what a cheapskate, asking for a 20p biro back. Surely he doesn't have any emotional attachment to a cheap pen like that one?". I would look like an utter cheapskate asking for my 20p biro back like that. Some people who may not have seen me lend the biro in the first place, might even suspect me of trying to con poor, dimwitted, J out of a pen he had brought along himself. Not that J is dimwitted. They just might think he was if he let himself be conned out of a biro in such an obvious way.

b) Pretend I hadn't noticed that J still had my pen, and let him close his filofax and walk away with my lovely possesion, albeit one that only cost 20p. If anyone noticed that this had happened, they'd no doubt think "My, what a weak spineless, unassertive boy he is! Why on earth didn't he ask for his own pen back?". And they'd be right, for surely J could not object to handing back an item he had unwittingly stolen. But in this scenario, he takes the pen and never even realises he's done wrong. I leave penless due to my spineless lack of assertiveness.

There was only a split second for all this to go through my mind. In this time I carefully weighed the options. a)... or... b)... or... a)... or... b)... or... and so on. I chose. I made my decision. Now I'd have to live with this decision for the rest of my life.

I said to J: "Can I have my pen back please?". He said "Ok" and passed me the pen. Nobody else was paying attention.

So I think that worked out alright.

Although I suspect J does think I'm a cheapskate for claiming back the 20p pen that he coveted.

The Animated Tale of PTHIX: Yikes!

The following post has been sent in by Fred from Scooby Doo - he's asked me to share it with you lot. Take it away Fred!

Hello world! I'm Fred from Scooby Doo (you know, the cool blonde one). Last Thursday, after months of preparation and hard thinking and drinking, it was finally the day of the Ninth Actuarial Pub Treasure Hunt, or PTHIX. This time it was being organised by myself and the rest of the Scooby Gang, with a general cartoony theme. We were hoping to see lots of our toon friends out in York, having a good time and getting a little merry. Unfortunately, things started badly. Shortly after me, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy and the two dogs had arrived in York in the Mystery Machine, Scooby Doo got kidnapped!

This was not what we had planned. To be honest, if it was Scrappy that had been stolen, we wouldn't have bothered to search. But Scoob's different. He's like family. Hell, to Shaggy he's like a wife. Luckily, we had a secret weapon to help up us get him back. Well, not so much a weapon, more an army. Twenty teams of toons, desperate to help us get our favourite dog back.

Here's a picture of me and Shaggy at the start. Don't let our smiles decieve you: we are actually quite worried.



The girls and Scrappy were also quite worried:



One by one, we beckoned the teams to the table and gave them their instructions. Would they be able to decipher the cryptic clues to discover the identity of the kidnapper and the location where Scoob was being held? Would they be able to answer the many trivia questions to prove their cleverness? Would they be able to drink, drink, drink and still walk? Would they find any good Treasure to bring back to us? And most importantly, would they be able to keep hold of their unique fruit or vegetable (from raisin to watermelon, and all sizes in between) that they won in the First Scooby Doo Fruit & Veg Raffle? Only time would tell.

It took the best part of a couple of hours to send everyone on their way, but eventually we found ourselves with empty beer glasses and hungry stomachs. Dinner time. Shaggy agreed to eschew the traditional abandoned empty mountainside kitchen, and instead we opted for Thai. During the meal, I asked for a doggy bag for Scrappy but they just laughed at me.

Towards the end of the meal, we received a tip-off that the real identity of the kidnapper was not what it appeared. In fact, the whole thing had been masterminded by evil Rolf Harris! I tried to inform the teams of this, but due to some magic, my text message ended up being encoded with their quiz sheets. A final piece of the puzzle for the teams to wrestle with. Not to worry, that wasn't my problem, and the meal was lovely and most welcome.

We began to meet the teams in the prearranged meeting place, the hostelry known as Thomas's. Our friends had journeyed far and wide around York, and some had found evidence of where Scooby was being held, enough so that by the end of the evening, we were able to rescue the poor little doggy and have Nasty Rolf incarcerated at her majesty's pleasure, where he remains to this day.

There was much partying and drinking and revelling and carousing. But I had to decline the offer of a trip clubbing, mainly due to having tonnes of stuff to carry home. Scrappy went though, and as far as I'm aware, didn't get into a single fight! Shaggy took Scooby Doo home to recover.

It took us a few days to finish off the marking, mainly because most of the rest of the gang were unavailable at the weekend. But finally, we were able to crown a winner: Some of the Wacky Racers had been able to take time off from the racing calendar and come down to York for the evening:



They scored well across the board in most categories and ended with a mighty 199 points, 15 clear of second the second place team (a team of toons united only by their small-animalness: Dangermouse and Penfold, Jess the Cat and Minnie Mouse). And just behind them, was Evil Dick Dastardly, as ever failing to quite beat the more fair-playing Racers.

As a special treat, we gave all teams the opportunity to eat a lovely dog biscuit when they returned to us. They were Scrappy's favourite brand, as you can see below:


A final word from Scrappy Doo: "Buy yummy Bonio dog biscuits! For Puppy Power! Yum!"

And a final word from me, Fred from Scooby Doo: Bye folks!

And so ends Fred's message. Well, it sounds like people had a good time - shame I had to miss it. I'd have liked to have seen the Smurf dancing too (I'm not sure Fred was aware he'd missed something so exciting!) This has been the third PTH of the year, so it's hopefully time for a short rest. But the next one is due to be the first actuarial pub treasure hunt not organised by Actuarial (Hello the girls from Marketing!), which should maybe breathe some fresh life and new ideas into things.

A trip to Club Z

After living in York for getting on four years, I last night visited the third (and last) of the city centre nightclubs for the first time. For no particular good reason that I can determine, other than that it seemed like a good idea at the time, we took a trip to Ziggys, or Club Z as it is sometimes known.

Entering it is a bit like going into someone's house. On the left is a living room with some sofas, and then the next door along is some kind of big dining room (with a bar in it). Upstairs and downstairs are more clublike.

It all seemed relatively relaxed, they let you have drinks on the dancefloor, and the music varied from tolerable to good. Certainly better than its reputation would leave one to believe. Though it could have had more nice girls in it.

I went to the toilet at one point and thought it was quite strange that there were no urinals in there, but some places are a bit odd, so I didn't let it phase me too much. After I'd finished, I left the stall, and as I was washing my hands, a girl came into the toilets. Although this was a bit unusual, it is something that happens quite a lot in clubs, as the girls are very slow and often have to queue. Occasionally the more adventurous ones will use the men's toilets to save time. So I just assumed she was being a bit naughty and using the gents because she was desperate.

She looked at me and I looked at her. She said something along the lines of "Why are you in the girls toilets?". I had a moment of realisation, looked embarassed, mumbled something and quickly left.

Well, despite that, a good time was had, even if I was dead on my feet by the end of the evening.

Compare and contrast

Weather Update

Yesterday was cold and sunny.

Today is cold and wet.

A bit of wet

I noticed that the carpet was a bit wet the other day, just by the door to my kitchen. I wasn't sure where the wet had come from, but I dried it off with Kitchen Roll and went to bed (since it was late at night when I spotted it). It seemed to stay dryish for a few days, but today has gone wet again, so I lifted the edge to look under, and the concrete below did seem to be a little wet too.

So I investigated further and lifted the lino in the kitchen and under that it was really quite wet. Strange... I am assuming that there is a leaky pipe somewhere or something. It doesn't seem to be making huge amounts of water though, so I'm treating it as non-urgent.

But I'm going to have to get a man in to sort it out. Hopefully it'll be covered by the 10 year new homes guarantee that my flat is still under.

I have accidentally ripped the kitchen floor (a little bit) though when I was pulling it up. Whoops clumsy me. On a plus side, once I get the wet sorted, maybe this will finally inspire me to get the new hard flooring I've been claiming I was going to get since I moved in eighteen months ago.

----------

Update:

Hmmm, after some inspection of my documents it seems that the guarantee probably doesn't cover this sort of thing (though I'm sure my insurance would).

Ok, here's my plan of action then:
1. Tomorrow I will remove the lino from the kitchen completely.
2. Then I will allow the floor to dry.
3. Assuming it dries, I will then carry out normal activities until I find something that makes it wet again.
4. Then I will fix that thing.
5. Or get a man in to fix that thing.
6. Then I will replace the floor covering.

If any of that sounds like a bad idea, please tell me as I have no real concept of what I'm supposed to do when faced with these responsible adult type issues.

A slight delay

Too tired to write anything sensible. Sorry. Tomorrow, I promise the full story of PTH IX, plus some photos.

Lucky little foxes

It's looking like fox-hunting with dogs will finally be banned by Parliament today. The House of Commons is going to overrule the House of Lords by using The Parliament Act. I find it quite hard to really have an opinion on this one, but at least this should stop the thing coming back around every six months and taking up time that could be used to discuss more important things.

And foxes are quite cute. At least the ones in my head are.

Question time

Before yesterday's wine tasting, there was a Question Time session where us plebs were able to put questions to a panel of Knowledgeable Actuaries. We had been invited to submit questions in advance, but I had not done this due to not thinking of anything early enough. I did think of a question whilst listening to them arguing about pension scheme funding. Here's My Question.

"Over the last weekend, many of today's top pop stars recorded a new version of "Do They Know It's Christmas" to raise money for the poor in Africa. This one, Band Aid 20, is the third version, 20 years after the original. Should actuaries in Ethiopia be sueing Bono and Bob Geldof for doing so much to make invalid the mortality tables they had been comfortably using until 1984?"

Sadly, I didn't get chance to ask it.

Drinking from a different cup

Well, since tonight was Tuesday night, it must have been Wine Tasting Night! Not just any Wine Tasting, but Actuarial Wine Tasting! You non-actuaries maybe can't imagine quite the excitement I had. And. Not. Just. Actuarial Wine Tasting, but Competitive Actuarial Wine Tasting (with prizes). Here's the rules:

1. There are eight rounds.
2. In each round you will taste one wine.
3. The first four wines are white.
4. The second four wines are red.
5. There is no rose. That's for girls.
6. In each round, you must determine the country, then the grape, then the region.
7. In that order.
8. 1 point each.
9. The team with most points in each round wins either a) a bottle of the wine you've just tasted; or b) a corkscrew.
10. The team with most points at the end is the overall winner and has a Lot Of Prestige.

We were four teams of six or so... What would follow here would be a blow by blow account of exactly how it went down. But I have neglected to remember all the details. So in summary: Round 1: We won. Round 2: We won. Both these wins were pretty much down to me having very lucky guesses on the country. Rock. Rounds three and four we still got the country right, but other teams had started to get their game together and we lost both rounds. However, we still had a clear two point lead at the end of the white wines.

On to reds. First country we got. But then... Oops. And we failed to win either of the next three rounds. With one round left, three teams had won two bottles, one had won one. Strangely, nobody had chosen the corkscrew option. So far.

One round left, all to play for.

We got one point. It was enough. Other teams also scored one, but we were first to hand our sheet in, which clinched the round for us. Three bottles won, and also we claimed the title of Best Tasters Of Wine (Red and White) October 2004 (Actuarial Section) or BTOW(RW)O04(AS). A prestigious title indeed.

And more importantly, we beat all the other teams, including the one which my boss was in, and the one in which the Second Most Senior Actuary in the company was in. That's not his official job title by the way. This was ok, because new roles had been sorted out against the wall yesterday. I was bound by virtue of drinking from the Cup Of Choosing, and so they could not retrospectively use the fact of me defeating them in a Wine Tasting Competition against me.

Up against the wall

A while ago I wrote about the restructure that we have been going through at work. Today it finally finished (for me at least).

As we got to work, the actuarial directors didn't let us into the building straight away. Instead, we were made to stand along the outside wall of the office, in a line, with our backs to the wall. It was quite cold, so I was glad of my coat and scarf. We had to stand there for around half an hour until over 90% of the actuarial staff had arrived. At this point, the Actuary King blew a horn, and a trapdoor in the road opened. I think it was not a sewer entrance, but a hitherto secret entrance to the office.

Out of this open pit climbed out, one by one, beasts like I have never seen unto this world before. Beasts of all sizes, of all smells, and of many gaits. Each one of us standing there against the wall was scared for our own lives.

Well, maybe that last paragraph was a slight exagerration... What actually came out of the hole was all the Departmental Heads. And lest you get the wrong idea, they are proper whole people, not just Heads on sticks or in jars or displayed in some other freakish manner. That sort of thing may go on at some other insurance companies, but in York we employ a more civilised kind of Head.

The appointment process was about to begin.

The process was to involve each Head in turn stepping up to a line on the road in front of us (just to the right of the hole). Then they would look along the lined up people. First to the left, then to the right, then to the middle. They would raise an arm and point and intone the sacred word: "YOU". If you were lucky enough to be selected in this way, then you'd walk to the Head, and drink from the Cup Of Choosing that they held. Each Cup contained a different brew, but drinking it would bind you to that Head for ever more. Or at least until the next restructure. I guess they have to utter an incantation to break the spell of previous drinkings.

After drinking from a cup of choosing you were allowed to go inside and actually do some work.

Due to the slightly ceremonial nature of this ceremony, it was a bit on the slow side. After the first hour, only six people had been chosen, and there were two thousand and sixty more to go (It's a very long wall by the way). I was not one of those six. This was annoying because I needed to use the lavatory. And it was still cold, even with the heat generated by the various Cups Of Choosing.

But my wait would soon be over. After three more people had been appointed, my current boss stepped up to the line. He looked to the left, then he looked to the right. Then he looked to the middle. I held my breath - I was on the right. He kept looking to the middle. And then, for one last time, he looked to the left. This was actually towards me since he was facing us. He raised his hand, and smiled a wicked, wicked smile. He opened his mouth and said "YYYYOOOOOOOUUUUU".

I stepped up and looked him in the eyes. He passed me the cup and I drank deeply. It was Lemsip. Yum!

Then, finally I was able to head inside and get on with my new job, which is just the same as my old job was yesterday.

This is all entirely true and exactly like it happened.

There's a Silence

Today was this year's Rememberance Sunday. A day to remember the war dead for 2 minutes in silence, as opposed to all day which would tend to interfere with people's busy diaries. I for example would have been hard pressed to use my whole day to remember dead soldiers, since I have had more pressing things to attend to (eg food shopping).

I did feel a bit cheated in that I'd already observed some silence on Thursday, which was the 11th of November, or 11/11 as the Americans might call it. That silence was only a minute long, but I thought of things really fast during it, so it was equivalent to the slightly slower-witted two minutes I experienced today.

Rather than just be silent on my own, I listened to the silence on the radio, live from the Cenotaph, London. It's a bit strange, since it's not actually properly silent. What you hear is kind of a quiet hush, almost a buzzing. I turned up the volume to hear it better. I hadn't realised that the end of the silence is marked by some kind of gun or cannon being set off. *BANG* It sounded very loud in my flat and made me jump somewhat.

I suppose I could have avoided this scare by just turning the radio off.

Or by not being silent. It does seem unfair that occasionally the world is deprived of me talking for short lengths of time.

Going Soft

I think I'm going soft in my old age.

I've been on a mini pub crawl tonight (six pubs and back home by nine). Before hand, I did a speck of shopping - wanted to pick up the new Eminem album. This task I achieved: Well done me. However, at the same time, I also (through the evils of a "buy 2 save £5" offer) also bought the new album by... The Beautiful South. Not cool.

Good stuff though! It's an album of just covers, featuring amongst others, Don't Fear The Reaper and Ciao! (the duet between Lush and Jarvis Cocker). It's good (mostly). Really.

And anyway, I think Eminem cancels out The Beautiful South, in the same way that walking up the stairs at work cancels out the bacon sandwich you've bought on the way in, or that wearing a tie cancels out comedy socks saying "I Love Beer".

In other music related news, it was good to see that Helen Love have managed to potentially expose themselves to an audience by having a song on the new Dave Gorman DVD. When I saw DG last year, I was quite surprised to hear a Helen Love track on the PA before he came on. I said to the people with, in an excited way, "Ooooooh, it's Helen Love!". They probably don't remember, or weren't listening, or both. Mr Gorman must be a Helen Love fan. For any of you who have not caught onto their delights yet, I recommend Radio Hits Vol. 3.

Phone Con

A conversation I had earlier today on the phone:

Me: Hi Matt
Matt: Hello!
Me: Um... Did I speak to you on the phone yesterday?
Matt: No...
Me: Oh ok. I thought I did.
Matt: No...
Me: Bye then!

I was sure it had been him...

Just some things

So, some things:

1. Why did nobody tell me that The Crimea put an album out about six months ago??? You gits. They topped my Festive 20 last year, so it's not like you didn't know I liked them. I bet you all have copies and have been laughing at me continuously ever since. Gits.

2. I don't own a car, but if I did, I'd consider a Honda because I really like their adverts. Today I got a free Honda "Hate something - Change something" bag in the post. It has that smell that you normally associate with inflatables. I have no idea what a Honda car looks like. Or even what colour they are.

3. Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Choices to be made. Or I could just wait and let things turn out however they turn out. And maybe lose an opportunity instead...

4. I got the DVD of series one and two of Big Train in the post yesterday. Although occasionally a bit hit and miss, there were some fantastic sketches in there (made all the better by Simon Pegg, Mark Heap et al being in most of them). Two I particularly remember as cracking me up: the one in an office where a new rule is brought in banning masturbation in the office; the one with the government minister who doesn't really understand scale models. Possibly they are funnier if you actually see them.

5. I'm looking forward to having some empty, free time soon. I intend to use it to stare into space, aimlessly for a while. Yum.

A review of a gig what I went to tonight (21)

Third time at Fibbers within seven days. Maybe eight days if you are really arsey about timing. I was there last Wednesday anyway, and there again tonight which was also a Wednesday. Tonight was one of those reasonably rare occasions when I knew nothing about the headline act. So we'll move onto him later...

First on tonight, York's own Motu One. A Band that seems to have a higher member turnover rate than most call centres. It's hard to be properly criticistic of a band when you know the lead singer, but I'll try anyway. One Pos, One Neg. Pos: I like the violin schtick. I've always been a sucker for strings. Neg: The spoken bit in one of the new songs was way too REM.

Four Day Hombre were middle on. They were excellent, as they are so often. It was nice to see the return of the Kate Bush cover after a few gigs without it. I'm running up that hill too.

And finally Ethan Daniel Davidson. He's an American from (possibly) Alaska, who does what can only sensibly be described as Country. Favourite song had to be "I can't drink you pretty", though I'm not sure if it was an original or a cover. The basic sentiment was the country classic of "You're a minger, and however many whiskeys I drink tonight, you'll still be a minger. Do you wanna get together anyhow?".

Tonight in Fibbers, there were three actuaries and one trainee. That'd be 3.5 on the AR(SE) scale I think.

5.0: Puressence
4.5: Trachetenburg Family Slideshow Players
3.5: Easyworld / Snow Patrol 1 / Graham Coxon / Keane / The Brakes / ED Davidson
3.0: The Open 2 / Thirteen Senses 1 / David Devant
2.5: Four Day Hombre 1 / Snow Patrol 2
2.0: Delays / Athlete / Dawn of the Replicants
1.5: The Ordinary Boys
1.0: The Open 1 / J. Richman / Four Day Hombre 2 / Simon & Garfunkel / Seafood / Thirteen Senses 2 / Cherry Falls

Next up, The Bluetones at Fibbers in December. It's sold out, and will be great.

Use of Chapters

Having just opened the new Terry Pratchett book for the first time, I can only say...

Arrrrrggghhh!! WTF???? Chapters? What the f**k is he playing at, using actual chapters??? Wrong, wrong, wrong.

I'm confused.

How to do 3D on the cheap

I developed a new way of seeing the world in 3D today, using commonly available objects. All you need is:
- 2 Clamshell style Camera Phones (they don’t need to be identical, but the camera does need to be behind the screen)
- Lots of sticky tape

Open up both phones, lay them on their sides and orient the two screens so that they are next to each other. Use tape to attach them together securely – don’t cover up the camera lenses too much though. Now, put both phones into camera mode.

If you hold the combined device up to your eyes and look at the left screen with your left eye and the right screen with your right eye, then you should be able to merge the two pictures in your brain and since they are being taken from slightly different angles, then they should merge into a fully 3D moving picture.

It’s just like actually being there,

You can walk around town, and you’ll experience the full 3D effect, as if you were actually walking around town. And you’ll look like that bloke of Star Trek.

If anyone has any venture capital to help me develop this idea, drop me an email with the subject line “Hey, you’re better than that Da Vinci bloke”.

It's Chriiiiissssttttmasssss!!!

With Bonfire night out of the way, it looks like Christmas is now officially here. Early signs of Christmas include:

1. Christmas songs playing in shops (eg Next) at lunchtime.
2. Mulled wine on sale in The Old White Swan (tasty stuff).
3. Mince pies brought into work by a colleague this afternoon.
4. I sat on Santa's lap today.

Ok, so I lied about number 4, but even so, it seems TOO EARLY for Christmas. I know that this same thing happens every year, but that doesn't make it right. There are probably many other signs of Christmas that are out there that I just haven't noticed, because you don't class things as being particularly odd when they are there for over a sixth of a year.

If I was four years old again, I'd lap this stuff up. I'd probably still enjoy fireworks too. Or maybe I'd be scared by the loud bangs and totally frightened to pant-messing level by the evil smelling fat man in the red coat and dirty beard. But I'm not four years old. Not any more. I used to be that age, but I was forced to grow up by time, parents and a desire to have my own flat.

Yes, now I am an adult and can willingly spit on Christmas coming early, on fireworks going on too long, and on other people having fun. Pah, darn them all.

Humbug.

Staring at goats

I've just been watching a TV programme, The Crazy Rulers of the World about the use of psychological and parapsychological warfare in the US military over the last 30 years. There's a summary of most of the programme here.

It seems there's some strange stuff going down. Major General Stubblebine reasoned that since atoms are mostly space, and people and walls are made of atoms, then people and walls are mostly made of space, so it should be quite straightforward to merge one through the other. To train soldiers to pass straight through solid walls. He banged his nose a lot. But respect to the guy for having the courage of his convictions and attempting to do the feat himself in his office rather than ordering the lower ranks to run straight at walls themselves.

Elsewhere, at Fort Bragg, there is Goat Lab. Goat Lab is where the army practices stopping the hearts of goats using the power of their minds alone. This is not easy to do, but there are a couple of people who claim to be able to do it. One is now dead (either killed in a helicopter accident, or run over and killed by a jeep whilst attempting to show that it wouldn't harm him to be run over by a jeep, depending on which story you believe). The other runs a dance/martial arts studio and recently killed his own hamster by staring at it, because the hamster was irritating him.

Goat Lab used to be called Dog Lab, but they changed because it was "just about impossible to form an emotional bond with a goat".

Also revealed are plans that would have seen US special forces entering hostile territory carrying young lambs, playing "indigenous music and words of peace" through loudspeakers and giving "automatic hugs" to any hostiles they encountered. Now I have zero combat experience (apart from some paintball), but I'm pretty sure that if I was a Hostile, I wouldn't let the enemy come towards me carrying lambs and playing Fleetwood Mac covers with a view to hugging me. I expect I'd shoot, or maybe just run away. But I wouldn't let enemy soldiers come and hug me. Though the originator of these ideas does accept that there was "a possibility that these measures might not be enough to pacify an enemy". No shit.

It seems that this, in part, has led to the torture that was going on in Guantánamo Bay and Abu Ghraib. A second article gives details of the a strange use of the music of Matchbox Twenty and Kris Kristofferson by the US military on a guy from Manchester who was held (and later released) in the Bay for two years. Strange...

Remember, remember

It's now two days after bonfire night, and there still seem to be hundreds of fireworks being let off outside. Bang, bang, bang. It's like living in Baghdad, except I guess they don't have bonfire night in Iraq. Or anywhere else in the world now I come to think of it.

I'm not really a fan of fireworks. You turn up, go "ooohh" a lot and then realise that that was it, an anticlimax as normal. I'd blame this on me getting old and miserable, but I've not enjoyed them particularly for many years. So I'll have to blame it on me just being miserable. And don't get me started on how expensive they are! Actually, I don't really know how much they are, as I never buy them.

Bonfire night is when we in Britain celebrate/commemorate the attempt of local York man, Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators to blow up the Houses of Parliament in 1605. He didn't manage it, as he got caught before being able to light the epxlosives. And then he was executed. After a lot of torture, obviously. So now on November the 5th each year, we build big bonfires, and put an effigy of Guy on top. Then we burn the whole lot, along with any hedgehogs that have crawled into the fire for a little nap. We don't really burn Fawkes in a nasty way, more an affectionate "Oh that was bad, don't do it again, ahhh, look at you with your cute little hat".

Anyway, because of him and his cute little hat, I now have to put up with lots of bangs outside my window for days on end. Git.