Wombles: Real or Made-Up? Discuss...

I spent some time today explaining to a colleague that the Wombles (of Wimbledon Common), were not based on any real life animal called a womble, but were in fact just... Wombles.

I thought most people knew this. I don't recall ever seeing David Attenborough ever commentating on some real natural wombles in nature, mating, fighting and hibernating (and possibly tidying their local area). It is hard to mistake the TV programme, The Wombles, for a natural history programme because it is narrated by Bernard Cribbens and not David Attenborough. That should be a dead giveaway.

It was, however, an entertaining conversation. I laughed much and long. I'm not sure I convinced her 100% though that there are no real wombles out in the wild.

FDH - Live! At Track! Singing and Signing!

A good excuse to leave work a little early today: Live music at the local independent record shop, followed by a signing session.



Not the biggest venue for a gig ever, though I think I have been in smaller ones...

Today started off very snowy. As I walked to work I was cursing myself for having forgotten that I now owned ski-clothes which would have been much more sensible to wear than the things I had put on. By the time I arrived I was covered in snow and must have looked like the very image of the abominable snowman. And it was all settling on the ground too.

Thankfully by lunchtime, a combination of mild warrmth and a bit of rain had melted it all away. The streets were safe to walk on once more. No snow and no abominables. Huzzah!

And on the 13th of the month...

A long time ago, back in early 2005, I helped start a record label (financially if not creatively). Alamo Music was set up to initially record and get out to market, Four Day Hombre's debut album. Today, said album, Experiments in Living finally hit the shops. Quite exciting, really.

There's an article on the BBC website which is quite nice, even if it does mistakenly claim that we've bought shares in the band as opposed to the label. Oh well, the rest of the article seems reasonably accurate.

I've now heard the album all the way through for the first time and it's great. I realise I am somewhat biased here, but it is great all the same.

Currry Menu

On Friday night I went to a new curry house that's opened up in town. I think it might be called Spice Club. It has a menu with some fairly ridiculous (and unhelpful) descriptions of the food:



My favourites are:

"Handi Lamb or Chicken
Relatively sophisticated dish developed for the Mongul emperors. Easy young meat such as calf or spring chicken always used for this dish, so its easy to break with your fingers avoiding the need of cutlery. Its knack of course aided greatly by using chapptti nan as a type of cutlery to carry it in your mouth. The once all powerful Shah of Asia said that eating with knife and fork was like making love through an interpreter."

"Nepalese Style Lamb or Chicken
Jinnah's frustration echo from around the world race religion age gender we are all united in our intention to eat well. Food can cause havoc with our psyches as well as our bodies, food is fuel we have to eat so it may as well be tasty .A little of what you fancy and lot of what you need is the way to go . So trust the chef."

Note that in neither of these descriptions do they even attempt to start to describe what it might taste like, or even what might be in it. It's either a carefully cultivated piss-take or possiblty just a work of minor genius.

Broken Whiteboard

Our whiteboard at work broke down the other day. An engineer came and he fixed it.

Rip it up and start again

Few things mark the passing of time more depressingly than the arrival of a new telephone directory at your door. Like birthdays and Christmas, it's an annual event. Unlike those times, there are no parties involved, no meeting up with friends, no food and no drinks.

So all you get is a feeling of "Oh, bugger: Is it that time of year again? I'm sure I got one of these last week".

But last week was actually last year, and... another year gone. And another telephone directory to dispose of.

Nik-Nakkered

Crisp-maker Golden Wonder went bust recently and it's become a bit harder to get hold of Nik-Naks. Apparently someone else will start to manufacture them soon, if they haven't already. I don't know the details.

Anyway, two nights ago I dreamt that Nik-Naks had been relaunched, but also redesigned. Rather than being long knobbly crisps, they were now long smooth crisps, rather like a baguette but way tinier. I was dubious at first, but when I tried them they were good. Actually better than the original version.

When I woke, the smoothing of the nik-naks was no more, since dream was all it had been.

Moral: If you eat too many crisps you start to dream about them.

Problems I don't have

Whilst I was away on the skiing, my work colleagues held a bit of a guessing game as to what ailments and afflictions I might return to the office with. Here is their list:

Iced buns
Frozen assets
Fifth metatarsel
Strained love-muscle
Burnt finger (marshmallow toasting)
Sunburnt face, white goggle eyes
Achy breaky heart
Sunburnt finger
Achy Buttocks
Skewered by a (ski) pole
Blisters - mainly feet, but not exclusively
Knobbled knees

They were not able to declare any winner. If only someone had gone for "slightly chapped lips"...

Bad Sweets

I brought some sweets back from holiday to take into the office. As normal, I tried to find the most unpleasant ones I could. What I found were some French bon bons which tasted vaguely lemony, and inside had some liquer made from Alpine Herbs.

I had one this morning and it gave me a headache. My friend felt sick. A lot of other people pulled faces.

I did well :-)

It was a more satisfactory outcome than the Cactus Candy I brought back from Arizona. That actually tasted pretty good.

This is Planet Earth

On TV at the moment is part one of the BBC's big new Natural History programme, Planet Earth. Watching it has made me think of several things.

Firstly, a lot of animals are really stupid and live in daft, inhospitable places: Penguins and polar bears, for example, live in cold, snowy places and not nice warm places like my flat when I have the heating on.

Secondly, despite the programme being named after a Duran Duran song, the BBC have not used that music for the theme tune. They've used some big, important-sounding classical rubbish instead. Maybe the BBC are too tight to pay Simon LeBonBon any royalty fees. I hope that they will at least credit him for providing the title!

And finally, there must be a lot of frustrated natural history narrators at the BBC who are just waiting for David Attenborough to die so that they can have a shot at the big time. I think Attenborough has narrated every nature programme that the BBC has made for the last 50 years. He may even have narrated these programmes before we had television. He could have even been doing them back before we had animals (ie, either a few thousand years ago or many many millions of years ago - choice depending on whether you are a nutter or not).

Perhaps when he does die, it will be at the hands of one of the young potential narrators in waiting. Maybe they'll film him being chased across the tundra and ultimately attacked and killed by his successor. Maybe this film will form the basis of a whole new series (though not, obviously narrated by Attenborough himself). I think this would be a fitting way for him to go. I hope however it won't feature his mating rituals.

Strangely, as I write this, they are actually showing some slow motion shots of the production crew themselves, though sadly they are not being eaten by rivals.

Back from the piste

I have returned from my skiing trip to Meribel in one piece and unharmed. This is good. I have not lost any of my extremities to frostbite or polar bear attack. I was also not forced to rely on my emergency supply of sherbet lemons whilst trapped in a ten day blizzard. So that's all good.



I think I enjoyed the skiing itself overall. It was sometimes a bit hard to tell at the time due to it often being both scary and hard work, but in retrospect I think it was ok. I had ski lessons most mornings and found these to be much more useful than the ones I'd had on the Sheffield dry-slope. After the first couple of hours I had got the hang of turning and was able to keep my speed as low as I wanted, which is much more than I was able to do after eight hours in Sheffield!

Over the rest of the week I definitely improved lots (as one would hope!) and was confident enough to go out on my own one afternoon for a couple of hours without feeling I needed someone to look out for me. I also managed to make it to all of my lessons, unlike most of my friends. I did leave the last (four hour!) lesson half way through though due to being tired, aching and wanting to go home.

One way to measure my improving skills over the week is to measure how many small French children I knocked over. On day one and day two, I took out two of them each day - four in total. On the remaining days I managed to avoid knocking any of the little bastards over. This definitely represents an improvement in ski skills though possibly not an improvement in natural justice.

We stayed in a chalet in Meribel at about 1600m above sea level:



Our chalet hosts, Rachel and Rowan were excellent and cooked me bacon sandwiches nearly every morning. There was also copious free wine (of which the red, at least, was quite drinkable). Thanks guys!

I'll end with some skiing tips for first timers (like me):

1. Lip balm is good. Don't wait until the second to last day to get some.
2. Don't worry about having a hangover. Cold mountain air is a fantastic cure.
3. Falling over doesn't normally hurt you, but it could damage your expensive electronic equipment. Pack things carefully.
4. Wear warm clothes.
5. It's not easy to walk in ski boots. Stairs are even harder to traverse. Plan your routes to avoid stairs.
6. Make sure you have an emergency supply of boiled sweets.

That is all!

Columbia records are stupid

After a day of not doing that much but still seeming quite busy, it's finally time to go skiing. I'm leaving on a jet plane. Well, technically, I'm leaving on a taxi, a minibus, a jet plane and a bus. But you get the picture.

My bags are packed, the only things I have left to put in are things like phone chargers, iPods and last minute rememberances of which I hope there will not be too many. It's always tricky, when going somewhere for the first time, to know whether or not you have packed all the right sorts of things. I think I'll be ok (or at the very least, warm).

On a completely unrelated note, I'd like to make a complaint about Neil Diamond's record label, Columbia. He has a new album out called 12 Songs. An appropriate title because it has 12 songs on it. This is two more than Leonard Cohen managed on his last album, Ten New Songs - I'm not sure if the two of them are engaged in some kind of song counting competition. If so, Neil's in the lead.

But there's a problem. If you look on the back of the CD, it lists 12 songs. They are numbered 1 to 12. And then it says below "with two additional songs" and lists two more without numbers! Outrageous. I'm not sure how they get away with this madness. The way I see it is that if you're going to have an album called 12 songs, it should have 12 songs on it. Not eleven. Not thirteen, and certainly not f***ing 14! They're not even "bonus songs". They're additional ones. Implying you should do some addition and add 12 and 2 to get... 14.

If they really, really had to put the two extra tracks on, why not call the album "14 songs" or "12 songs plus 2 additional songs". At least that would be honest.

F***wits.

I've a good mind to write to them. Maybe I will when I get back home.

So anyway, I'm off and it's likely to be quiet round here for a week or so. See you all soon!

Wine v Head

I'd forgotten I'd taken this at the weekend.



I like the way the wine glass is bigger than my head. In reality, outside of photos, my head is in fact bigger than most wine glasses. See how photos can be deceptive?

Cutting Edge Hardcore

I heard a song on the radio for the first time last night and I thought it was fantastic. Cara Dillon's Never In A Million Years. It sounds like distilled Dawson's Creek. Which is, bizarrely, a good thing.

If you hear it and don't like it you must be half dead already.

Go with the flow

I was out in town on Saturday night. In Bar Ha Ha there was a man doing magic tricks in the gents toilet. Is that normal? I didn't think it was normal. I asked him why he was doing card tricks in the toilet. He said that he didn't really know. It had just started and he'd carried on. I think he then felt a little embarrassed and left.

Later on I spilt a large drink all over my legs. I'm pretty sure that this was unrelated to the magician and he hadn't cast a Level 3 Spell Of Spillage to get revenge on me for embarrassing him out of his favourite toilet. But he might have done. You can never tell with wizards. They are quick to anger.

Mountain Survival

I've just been watching Ray Mears' Extreme Survival which tonight was all about surviving in the mountains after you've been a bit unlucky or done something idiotic (like skiing).

The key things I have learnt are:

1. If you get buried in an avalanche, make sure that as the snow starts to slow down that you make as much of an air pocket as possible.
2. It's then really helpful if you have an avalanche transceiver about your person.
3. It can be really cold.
4. Ski boots make a convenient water receptacle.
5. Wear Layers. Lots of Layers. Don't go out dressed just in a bikini.
6. You can make a T-shaped snow cave/shelter using a spade and lots of snow. Having a saw helps too. You need to make sure you include an air hole. And a cold sink is useful too.
7. It can be really, really cold.
8. Take things with you like dry matches, food, signal flares, cyanide and portable DVD systems. And lots of batteries. You might be bored for a long time.
9. You get blisters if you thaw your frostbite. This makes it hard to walk. Possibly better to just leave your bits frozen until you are rescued (or until you die).
10. If you start to feel you might be lost, DON'T KEEP GOING. Stop and either retrace your steps or bed down where you are. Otherwise They will never find you.

Polar Bears do not seem to be a problem or a danger in mountainous areas of the world. This is a good thing I suppose. If you put penguins and polar bears in a skiing race, who would win?

My survival training is now complete.

This isn't very interesting. Sorry.

I went to the haircutters today and for the first time (that I can remember) the little man remembered what I normally have done and didn't have to ask me. He did try to make conversation a few times though. I wasn't having any of it. I wanted to be quiet. He gave up eventually and cut my hairs. All of them.

Great North Run: Entered!

After failing to secure a place in The Great North Run through either the preliminary or main ballots, I had no choice but to throw myself at the mercy of charity. On Tuesday morning I phoned Cancer Research UK and pleaded with them to let me have one of their guaranteed places. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do and my powers of persuasion were tested to the hilt:

CR-UK: Hello, Cancer Reserch UK running line - how can we help you?
Me: I'm after a place in the Great North Run.
CR-UK: OK, we have some guaranteed places left.
Me: Excellent.
CR-UK: Will you be able to raise at least £400 for us?
Me: Yes, that should be no problem.
CR-UK: OK, let's just take your details then.
etc

See, really hard! I didn't bother to mention the whole Run-a-thon 500 thing though. I thought it would just confuse matters. I'm sure they won't mind that I'm planning to do an extra 487 miles more than they are expecting me to.

They're going to send me a t-shirt with my name on it. That's like the coolest thing ever. Don't expect I'll wear it though.

Avast - New Clothes

Right, enough about skiing. I got given a Polar Buff for Valentine's Day yesterday. I had absolutely no idea what it was at first. Because it was wrapped up.

Once unwrapped, I still had no idea what it was, but quickly worked out that it was some kind of headwear. I was able to do this because the cardboard it came on said "The Original Multifunction Headwear". "A-ha!" I thought, "This must be some kind of multifunctional headwear!". And I was right, it is.

So in case you are also ignorant of the Buff, it is a kind of tube of material. You can wrap it into several configurations, including headband, scarf, cap, balaclava, ski-mask and most excitingly... Pirate! It turns into a proper pirate scarf/hat thing like they wear on telly. When I saw that I was happy.

Now a Polar Buff is like a normal Buff but it has a fluffy fleecy bit on the end so that you can line your hats with warmth.

It took me a while to get to grips with using it - you have to do some odd things to get it into some configurations, but I think I have the hang of it now. Oooh-aaarggh, me hearties.

Not allowed to fall down a hill

I went out to Xscape at Castleford last night for some "skiing practice" with the guys I'm going skiing with later in the month. The idea was that we'd have an hour of practice on real snow to aid our transition from the dry slope skiing of the weekend.

(Can I just say here that I've always thought "skiing" is a ridiculously spelt word. Those two i's don't work for me)

I was a bit worried about this as I'd never been on a slope bigger than a nursery one before and I wasn't sure how I'd cope with the change. Especially since I was crap on the dry slope. I was hoping I'd be able to have a go on the indoor training slope to get some more basic practice. Unfortunately, they only allow you to use the training slope if you're having a lesson. If you're just there for general practice you have to use the main slope (which is quite big).

Rules for going on the main slope are:
1. You must be able to control your speed (I can't very well)
2. You must be able to do linked turns (sometimes I make turns by accident)
3. You must be able to use the button lift (never even seen one before)

So I wasn't doing very well there. I figured I'd have a go anyway though. You can go up and just get off halfway rather than going all the way to the top. How hard can it be from there?

I think I first raised the suspicions of the staff when I fell off the lift after about a metre. She asked if I'd ever used a button lift before. I said no (strike rule number 3). She asked if I'd ever skied before. Now I knew that the answer I needed to give in order for her to let me up the slope was "yes". So I said yes and then she showed me how to use the lift. I then made it up halfway and dismounted without major incident.

Once there I had to work out how to get down. My plan was to go as slowly as I could and maybe try a turn. Somehow I managed to avoid the fence that was in front of me at the start and make it relatively slowly down to the bottom. I must have done something wrong though because when I returned to the ski-lift the lady asked me to do some turns across the slope this time. I don't think she wanted to just admire my skills. She instead wanted to see if I was competent enough to stay on.

I didn't fall off the lift the second time, but that at least was an improvement. When I got off half way though I moved away from the lift and after a while found myself starting to slide downhill. I tried to stop and didn't so figured I'd make the most of it and just get going. I avoided the fence somehow but then failed to make any other turns for the rest of the way. Also I went (unwittingly) quite a lot faster than the first time. Strike Rules 1 and 2.

The third time the lady said she wouldn't allow me to go up again because I was rubbish, incompetent and a danger to myself and others - my words, but that's what she meant. Hence I found myself, for the first time in my life, banned from the slopes.

She had a point though. So all I could do for the rest of the hour (about 45 mins or so) was wait at the bottom, watch the others, smile a lot and try not to cry.

Stupid snow.

Oh well. As a plus point, I've had a small amount of experience now of skiing and attempting to move across flat snow in skis. That must be better than nothing. Shame I'm shit.

When I got home I had a beer and watched Prison Break and ate a bag of jelly babies. That made me feel a little better. Just a little.

As easy as falling down a hill

So yesterday and the day before, I was out at the Sheffield Ski Village, learning to ski (or at least attempting to) in preparation for my trip to the mountainous region of France later in the month. I'd never skied before so I was starting completely from scratch.

I found it pretty hard going. For some reason I have yet to determine, I was unable to go down the hill at a constant slow speed like everyone else could. I think my legs are the wrong shape or don't bend the right way or something. In addition, the skis generally refused to move as I wanted them to when attempting to turn a corner. This was really annoying. And my feet really hurt.

We were in a group of ten people and on the Saturday we all had one instructor. I was a bit rubbish. Too tense apparently. And too asymmetrical. Even when I fixed these though, it didn't seem to help much.

On the second day we were split into two groups. I was in the retards group, along with two friends. However, whilst later in the morning my friends had improved enough to join the grown-ups and have a play on the big slope, I didn't and stayed on the nursery slope. I didn't actually mind that though, as I'd rather be safe than lying twisted and broken.

I definitely made some progress over the weekend, but not as much as I thought I would.

Also my arms hurt.

Also my calves hurt.

Also my toes hurt.

Tonight I'm taking a trip out to the indoor slope with real snow at Castleford. Thankfully we're only skiing for an hour as I don't think my legs would bear any more than that.

I expect I'll hate it.

Too much exercise

This week's been/is going to be a bit crazy physical:

Saturday: Skiing Lessons
Sunday: Skiing Lessons + Bowling (separately)
Monday: Skiing Practice
Tuesday: Running
Wednesday: Dancing (Quickstep)
Thursday: Running
Friday: Drinking
Saturday: Drinking

On this list, I'm currently between Sunday and Monday. And I'm really quite tired (again). I'll try and write about learning to ski at some point. Summary: Ow.

Should have slept about a day ago

Tomorrow morning I have skiing lesson number one. I was supposed to have gone for a quick drink after work, then home to bed, sleep, zzzzz, sleep.

Bugger.

It's probably not too late. I'll go to sleep now. Zzzzz.

Zzzzz.

The wrong trousers

At dancing last night (a mix of samba and quickstep, but not together) I realised I had a small hole in the arse of my trousers. I don't think it was noticeable. I noticed it though and then forgot all about it.

This forgetfulness turned out to not be one of my better ideas.

At work this morning I suddenly realised that I had put on the same trousers and that they still had a hole. This would have been bad enough, but the hole had now grown considerably - it was now about eight inches across. Once I discovered this I made a conscious effort to not leave my seat for the rest of the morning. It would be embarrassing to be walking around the office only to have somebody shout out "Look, you can see his pants!".

Now I know that girls will often walk around with the top of their thongs poking out of the top of their low-cut trousers - what is colloquially known as a "whale tail". They look ridiculous. Underwear is called underwear because it's supposed to be under what you wear. Not poking out of it. I, unlike an uncouth girl, don't wish people to see my undercrackers. Not that there's anything wrong with them, it's just that the office is not an appropriate place to reveal one's private glories.

I therefore decided that I had better head into town at lunchtime to purchase a new pair of trousers to wear for the afternoon. I do sometimes need to leave my desk and it would look a bit odd if I put on my long coat every time I went to the coffee machine or the toilet or the printer.

In Marks and Spencers, a girl approached me. I was looking at trousers so she'd clearly got me pegged as someone who knew a thing or two about clothes. Luckily, I was wearing my long coat so she was unable to catch a glimpse of my nethers.

She asked if she could ask me a personal question. I wondered what was wrong with "Hello!", but I guess people aren't as friendly as they used to be. She was holding two near-identical stripey jumpers. She said that she was buying a jumper for her "friend" and he was a similar size and build to me (ie he was also a tall lanky bastard). She wanted to know whether I normally wore medium-sized or large-sized jumpers. I wasn't really sure. I think I sometimes wear both sizes. I know I do with t-shirts. I explained this to her, but then in a fit of generosity let her measure the medium one against my arm. It seemed like it could be slightly short so she decided on large. Then she thanked me and went on her merry way.

Despite me doing this good deed for her, she didn't give me a reward, or indeed any form of payment at all, except for a smile. Not even a pound. Tight moo.

To be honest though, I was quite glad she had only asked me about the sizes. If she'd instead asked me whether or not I liked the jumper, I'd have had to reply that I really didn't, yuk. And that wouldn't have been polite.

So anyway, with my good deed done I found a pair of trousers (32" waist, 33" inside leg - not the easiest to find today) paid and left. Then, when I got back to work, I went straight to the toilet and changed into the new trousers. I'd had the foresight to take a pair of scissors into town with me to cut off the labels when I returned. I was able to do this because I do not pass through any airport metal detectors between my desk and the shops.

I've thrown the old pair of trousers away now. They are of no further use to me.

Asking for charity

I'm a bit pissed off tonight because my ballot application for the Great North Run has been unsuccessful (unlike every other single person I know). I'd been hoping to do the GNR as part of the Run-a-Thon 500, but now the only way I'll be able to do it is by getting a charity to give me a place.

I may have made it a bit difficult for myself here. Normally you can get a charity place if you get sufficient sponsorship for the race itself. I have however been getting sponsored for a series of runs which I ultimately intend to contain the GNR. So I'm going to have to try and convince Cancer Research UK that they should give me a place anyway.

So far, I've actually raised over £500 of which CR UK have physically already received over £400. There are still 8 months until the race. Hence if anybody who processes the applications there has any common sense they'll give me a place with no problems.

I suspect it won't be that easy though. These things never are.

Oh, well. It's all fun :-(

More complaining

I'm too tired to have inspiration. I'm too tired to have any good thoughts at all. Why is it that the only time I can get to sleep properly is half an hour before I need to get up? What's that all about? Bastard sleep pixies.

Scotland's For Me

I got a bit pissed off at work this afternoon (quite unlike me) so headed off into town for a little fresh air and a break. Also I wanted to buy the new Belle and Sebastian album and hadn't been able to get out at lunchtime. Three o'clock in the afternoon is a much more sensible time to go shopping than twelve o'clock. The shops are really quiet. Everyone else is working. Losers.

So I got myself the album - deluxe versiom wih bonus DVD that I'll probably never watch. It was two quid more but I had a voucher for two quid off so that all works out. Is a good album. You buy.

I also got a packet of jelly tots. They didn't come with a bonus DVD, but they were great all the same.

Does exactly what it says on the bottle

I bought a bottle of pomegranate juice earlier. It sounded exciting. It didn't taste very nice though. It tasted like pomegranates.

Last night we went out into York. We went for a Thai dinner and then headed into the town centre. Strangely York seemed much rowdier than Newcastle had seemed the previous week. That's not right. Once away from the river however the numbers of pissed-up idiots declined to a more manageable level.

After a spell upstairs in Victor J's, we headed to 1331 for Claire's 30th birthday party. None of us had the faintest idea who Claire was but we knew the DJ and this was just about sufficient for us to get in and not be evicted by the bouncers. The party featured a very entertaining, fine example of dad-dancing.

Then it was home time. Like we used to have at school, but later and a bit more drunk.

Toilet Photo

I've been to Fibbers a couple of times this week. The second was for FDH last night.



We didn't have tickets so I started to get a little antsey when, whilst I was still in the pub, I spoke to a friend who had just got to the venue and found a largeish queue. Luckily, although there was still a queue when we arrived, it was not yet full inside and so we got in ok. Great gig but a little short.

The first time I went to Fibbers this week was on Wednesday night when my friend, Drew was supporting Jess Klein. Jess was very nice and signed a CD for me. Well, I think she signed it. She definitely wrote something and I assume that it's supposed to be her name.

I was chatting to Drew later and he asked what I thought of his (mostly new) set. I said I liked the Boo Hewardine cover. He said that he hadn't played a Boo Hewardine cover. Whoops.

Team Name

As a team name in The Punch Bowl tonight I went for If only all of Wales died in The Thames. We won no money and no beer.

Commiserations to the young whale wot died in London's big river. Idiot.

I cna't tpye

Despite it being the thing I maybe type more than anything else on a keyboard, I almost always get my name wrong. Letters transposed, letters,capitalised when they shouldn't be, letters added, letters missed. All these and more. It's very annoying.

Wicker takes it all

I was listening to Pulp's last album yesterday, We Love Life. There's a song on there called Wickerman about a road called The Wicker in Sheffield, and possibly also a man who hangs about on it. I forget the details.

Part way through the song I noticed for the first time that there's a sample (or at least a cover) of part of a song I recognised. It was part of Willow's Song, a song which formed a memorable part of the film The Wicker Man. Do you see what they did there? They wrote a song about a man from The Wicker and put part of a song from a film about a man made of Wicker in the song about the man from the Wicker.

I'd never noticed this before, despite having had the album for five years or so. I like it when I find things I've never noticed before. It's like people have hidden special surprises in my life. Like the coins in Christmas Pudding, but all year round.

I'm sure I've said this before, but Willow's Song is great for two reasons:
1. It's a hauntingly beautiful song
2. Britt Ekland dances naked whilst singing it

But strangely, reason number 1 is the more compelling one.

Bump!

It's always funny to watch other people injure themselves non-fatally. One of the funniest ways in which someone can do this is by walking at speed into a lamp-post whilst looking in a different direction. If you don't find this funny then it can only be because you have just walked into a lamp-post yourself. And you haven't started to find it funny yet. You'll be laughing in ten minutes though, despite the pain. Guaranteed.

I was lucky enough to witness a colleague do this on Friday night. We were between pubs, later on in the evening. He was talking to a girl off to his left. He failed to notice the large metal object directly in his path and...

Bump!

How we laughed.

Feels Like Heaven

I've never been to Newcastle before, except when I've passed through on the train on the way to Scotland. Yesterday was therefore my first time in the city centre. I thought it was a lot like Leeds, with better bridges.

Although we had gone up there for the Belle and Sebastian gig, we went up a little early in order to have a look around and to have dinner. One thing we wanted to do was to check out the route of The Great North Run that we are planning to run in the Autumn. It has a reputation for being a little hilly, as half marathons go. It didn't seem too bad to me though. It did seem a little boring in parts though... there's a good bridge at the start, the sea at the end and mostly motorways and big main roads in between. At least they will take the cars away on the day (or so I'm told).

The way we checked out the route was to drive along it in a car. This took longer than expected because the traffic was quite busy at times. Whilst I won't suggest it would have been quicker for us to actually just run it yesterday, it might have been (but it wouldn't). So now we've checked out the land, it's time to get back to training. I'm up to doing around 7 miles at a time at the moment, so I think I should be fine for a half marathon by October. Unless I break my legs whilst skiing. Or whilst drunk. Or whilst skiing, drunk.

Later on we arrived at the Carling Academy, Newcastle. Seemed like a reasonable enough venue apart from the rather slow bar service upstairs. B&S came on and started with The State I Am In, still one of my favourite of their songs after all these years. It gave me the little shivers (a good thing).



The set was pretty broad and had songs from most of the old albums as well as the new one (which is excellent btw).



A great night :-)

B&S: Soon!

I'm going to see Belle and Sebastian tonight, in Newcastle. Quite excited by this since they are the best band in the world, ever. Maybe. We leave soon. Bye!

Communion Kit-Kats

When I arrived at work this morning I was a little hungry so went to the coffee shop to get a snack (and a coffee). My snack of choice was a Kit-Kat Chunky. Now, when my friend saw what I was doing, she commented that she thought it was a bit early for chocolate. This was slightly hypocritical because she herself was eating a pain-au-chocolat (or chocolate croissant as the lady in the canteen insists on calling them).

A pain-au-chocolate is essentially a form of bread with some chocolate inside it. Whereas a Kit-Kat chunky is essentially a form of chocolate with some wafer inside it. Now, as any good catholic will tell you, wafer is a good (symbolic) substitute for bread. Hence I conclude that a Kit-Kat is basically an inside out pain-au-chocolat and hence a valid and fine thing to eat for breakfast. QED, I win.

Whilst thinking about the whole bread/wafer thing, I then got to wondering whether there were churches where they gave you Kit-Kats rather than the standard communion wafers? They'd be pretty cool. I reckon church attendance would rise considerably, though they might have to reinforce the pews if people had too much choccy. But then if they had Kit-Kats, would the whole transubstantiation thing still work? Does chocolate block that process in the same way that lead blocks the harmful effects of Kryptonite on Superman? Can any Catholic scientists enlighten me on this? (*)

(* I am assuming here that there are some Catholic scientists out there who actually do proper science with experiments and evidence. As opposed to the sort who argue against evolution and think man used to hang out with dinosaurs...)

Stupid pizza label

There's a label on the front of my frozen pizza box that says:

"Each half pizza provides:
- 479 cal
- total sugars 7.6g
- salt 1.8g
- sat fat 9.5g
- fat 17.0g"

It doesn't look like that - it's presented as a pie chart (pizza chart?) but a very badly done one because all five slices are the same size. That's just dumb because clearly 1.8g of salt should have a considerably smaller slice than 17.0g of fat. And there must be some overlap between the calorific content and the other listed ingredients.

But that's not my main problem with this label.

My main problem is: Who the f**k would eat half a pizza? What possible use is there in knowing how much content half your meal has? Is it a bold bid to increase the mathematical ability of dieting fatties? It's not like you can easily cut a frozen pizza in half and have it on two separate nights. It's far too hard. You'd have to use a chainsaw. And I honestly don't believe that frozen pizza is the sort of food you'd ever share with a loved one. I'm pretty sure it's eaten solely by lonely singles.

Having half a pizza would be like having half a cat or half a hat or half of a haircut ie it's wrong. Idiots.

iPod Grammar

iPod
youPoddle
hePods
shePiddles
wePodulate
theyPodtooearly
itPodsallnight
pigstailsaretwirly

And it started so well...

A big bridge

I'm watching a programme about the Millau Bridge in southern France - the world's tallest vehicular bridge (probably). It's one of those programmes with an ominous sounding voiceover making everything sound much harder and more thrilling than it really is. "Nothing had even been attempted on this scale before", "One small error could cost the lives of billions of people" - lots of that sort of thing. Since it's a French bridge, many of the people involved in making it were also French. This means that when they are dubbed into English, they sound like the people off of Eurotrash. Hah. Foreigners are funny.

It's a truly impressive structure though. Tall, like me. Slender, like me. Able to carry the weight of hundreds of cars and lorries, like me.

The best line in the whole programme came near the start. Whilst referring to the limestone nature of the surrounding countryside, it said something like (and I can't remember the exact words, but this is near enough): "What's great for the manufacture of cheese is terrible for a Megastructure". Wise words.

On the extortionate price of things these days

I went out for a friend's birthday last night, and we ended up going to The Gallery. It seems like ages since I last went to a club, possibly because it is. They are still pretty rubbish, but never mind.

We'd aimed to get there before eleven in order to get in cheap but sadly this didn't happen and when we got there the queue was humongous. Right back to the York Dungeon. We had to wait. I half-heartedly suggested abandoning the whole thing and going home for a bottle of wine, but this suggestion was not taken up. Eventually the queue shrank to the extent that we were at the front of it. This was really exciting.

Yes, the anticipation was quite something.

Really somewhat thrilling.

And before we knew it (and about half an hour after we arrived in the queue) we were in. But not completely in, because first they have the gall to take money off you! They call it an entry fee. I call it Robbery! Eight pounds! Each! Do they know what I could buy for eight pounds? Four pizzas, that's what. Four! Eight pounds? Ouch!

I thought this price was a little on the high side.

But it gets worse. We put our cloaks in the cloak room, and despite them putting two on the same hangar, they charged an additional three pounds for this service. Just in case you have lost track, the bastards have now got eleven of my pounds and I haven't even got to the bar yet. Don't get me started on bar prices...

Now, maybe it's because I haven't been to a club for a while and this pricing is standard but it seems high. I remember when it was all fields...

Boom Boom

I used to notice a silence every time I walked past any big field, full of yellow-flowered crops. It turns out it was just that my rape-alarm was broken.

New Road! New Road!

There's a new road outside my flat. Brand spanking new, they installed it today - I even saw them do it.

Well, maybe it's not technically a new road as such but it is a new road surface where the old road surface used to be. I don't know what was wrong with the old road surface - perhaps it was scratched or dirty. Or maybe scratched and dirty! Imagine that - a scratched and dirty road! It would definitely need replacing.

So the men come with their machines and their diggers and their steam rollers and they work their tarmac-gic and new road appears.

This brings an important question to mind. Do steam rollers still use steam in any way? The workings of large mechanical vehicles is not one of my specialist subjects (*) so I'm unable to say whether steam rollers got their name because they used to run on a steam engine in the old days or for some other reason. One I saw today looked like it was pouring water onto the hot tarmac and then rolling over it as the water turned to steam. Perhaps therefore a steam roller is more akin to a steam iron. After all, they do essentially the same job, just on a different scale (And on a different material. I don't recommend the old tar jacket routine).

Anyway. The cycle of road renewal continues.

(* Note: my specialist subjects are: 1. The role of Rasputin in 20th century conspiracy theories; 2. How to pleasure a lady using only bees and; 3. The noises an air hockey table makes in the flat above.)

Road Siign

I found this near where I live.



Presumably the reason for the lack of marks on the road is that all the spare paint has been used to add extra letters to the signs...

Why I feel ill

I don't feel that good this evening. However I can't work out how much of this might be due to the following three things:

1. having a very mild cold
2. being quite tired
3. consuming a large bag of Haribo and a large bottle of coke before leaving work

The smart money's on no 3.

A Tale Of Two Cities

I'm feeling quite pleased with myself this evening, since I've just done my first ever five mile run. And it didn't kill me - I could maybe have done at least another mile. I didn't want to push things too far today though - I was wearing inappropriate sockwear since my running socks were all in the wash.

I saw way more other runners than normal too. Maybe people are finally getting in to those new year fitness regimes, the ones that normally last for a week or so before being confined to the sports-locker of history for another year.

My own running regime is about on target, whilst my fund-raising is well above my most optimistic expectations. I've raised £405 already and we're barely two weeks in to the year. Now, this amount does include a few ridiculously generous amounts but even so it's a great incentive for me to get on and actually do this silly task I've set myself (only 479 miles to go!).

I have also discovered that the distance from the centre of Paris to the centre of York is almost exactly 500 miles (going via the Calais to Dover ferry). Hence we can pretend that on January 1st I was dropped, unwillingly, into the French capital and have ever since been finding my way home. Currently I'm on the A1 just outside (North?) of Paris. There are lots of French people around and they keep offering me baguettes.

But at least they're not all on strike and blocking the motorways. I should get to Calais at some point in early May.

Some Stones

Today I've been out on one of those walk things. Masham is a place that is known best for its Brewery (Theakstons) but we didn't go there. Instead we went to see some stones:



These were allegedly put togther by druids, and I think were mainly used for sacrificing goats and virgins (but never virgin goats). Nowadays, with druidism being a profession in terminal decline and sacrificing being out of fashion I don't think they are used for anything much at all apart from the occasional impromptu fire by teenage tearaways.

Tunch

I went out for lunch today - I call it lunch but since it was getting on for three o'clock by the time we reached the pub, lunch is maybe the wrong word. Afternoon tea might be a better description.

We went to The Judges' Lodgings and I had a mixed grill:



Unfortunately, the food took a long, long time to arrive. So long that:

a) The staff came over to apologise for the delay on three separate occasions
b) They gave us free drinks

This second point is certainly not to be coughed at.

The music was of an exceptionally high quality for a Saturday afternoon. If it had been an indie disco rather than a cellar bar, I'd have been dancing all night. We had Ed Harcourt, The Killers, Maximo Park, Willy Mason and (maybe literally) hundreds of others I won't recount here. On the other hand, I'm glad it wasn't a disco because the celing is very low and I'd have banged myself.

Posts Envy

I wish my posts were longer.

Can you spare 10p, Guv?

Bloomin' Guardian newspaper has gone up 10p. 10p! Where do they expect me to find that kind of money from? Am I supposed to sell my oil fields or something?

Stay Classy

So the nominations for the Brit Awards are out today. Is anyone else suprised by the massive coincidence that the two biggest selling album artists of 2005 (James C**t and the Kaiser Chiefs) both just happen to have also got the most nominations?

Slow West

I bought a Pet Shop Boys greatest hits music book in the sale at a music shop. There's something curiously satisfying about playing Go West in a slow, sad manner on the old acoustic guitar. Actually, most songs should be played that way. Except for slow, sad ones. They should only be played by punk bands.

Dismantling the mental barricades

Have you ever been doing a puzzle and been completely stuck? And then put on Through the Barricades by Spandau Ballet and found that it gave the necessary mental jolt to get you through the stuck point and ultimately solve the puzzle?

Or is that just me?

An Unnecessary Climb

I had a very pleasant meal in Plunketts last night. But I think the staff were toying with us on arrival. When we asked if they had a table they told us there would be approximately a 45 minute wait, but we could go and wait in the upstairs bar and put our name in the queue. Having no other significant plans, and not being in any rush, waiting was not a problem. It's quite a nice bar, lots of sofas and things.

We went upstairs to the bar. It's up quite high, about three flights of stairs. Lots of stairs. But it's ok because we were going to have a drink at the top and recover from the climb. But imagine our *dismay* when we got to the bar in the upstairs bar and the lady there told us that there was a table ready... now! No waiting would be needed and we wouldn't get a drink! Bastards. Back down we went and there was indeed a table ready (at which we sat and ate and drank and talked and etc).

Although the waiter did apologise for making us take an unnecessary climb, I still suspect them of doing it on purpose. For two reasons:

1. The extra exercise makes people hungrier and hence more likely to order more food. This makes more profits for the evil-capitalist-restauranteers.

2. They find it funny.

Gits.

Run-a-thon 500 - The Rules

The run-a-thon 500 is underway. Nobody has sponsored me yet, but that is surely just a matter of time. I hope.

Anyway, here, as promised, are the rules I will be working to:

1. Since there is no way I can be followed and monitored by a third party for the duration of the run-a-thon 500, I cannot give any real proof that I will be doing what I say I am. For this I apologise. I am sorry. This is not so much a rule, more a thing. Should anybody want to come and monitor any particular part of my running then I would be only too happy for you to come along.

2. The 500 miles will be made of several smaller segments. These segments will vary in length. Smallest ones are likely to be three miles. Longer ones could be half-maraton length. Lets see how things go.

3. All runs will be measured using internet mapping services. So far I have used www.uk.map24.com. It can be a bit clunky but it seems to work.

4. Distances from all runs will be rounded DOWN to the nearest mile. If I do a 3.9 mile run it will add only 3 miles to my total.

5. Only unbroken distances will be counted. If for example I ran 6 miles which was made of 2.4 miles, 5 mins break, 1.8 miles, 3 mins break, 1.8 miles, each section would count as a separate run and only contribute 4 miles in total.

6. However, I might sometimes have to briefly stop in order to cross a road. This is ok and will not count as a break. Running in front of moving cars is bad.

That seems like not many rules. If anyone wants clarification on any point then please let me know.

Sponsor me at www.justgiving.com/rich500. Thanks!

Darn

I was back to work today after the Christmas break. Darn.

All new for 2006: The Run-a-thon 500

Back at the arse end of November last year, I started going out running. You're probably aware of this, I've mentioned it a few times.

Here I am, running on Christmas Day:



You can see that I'm actually running - both feet have left the ground.

Last year I set myself 12 challenges, and like the Great Hero Hercules, I completed 10 of them (albeit his were different challenges mostly involving the harassment of wild animals). I could set another 12 this year, but I won't. I've built and demolished that particular sugar mountain. Instead, this year I will have just one challenge: The 2006 Run-a-thon 500.

The legendary Scottish Band The Proclaimers once boasted that they would walk 500 miles, just so that they could "fall down at your door". Idiots. Any fool can walk 500 miles. I'm going to surpass that. I'm going to run 500 miles. I will beat The Proclaimers. Not all at once though, that would be daft. I have the whole of 2006 to run this distance.

[Message to the smart-arsed out there. I am well aware that the Reed brothers then additionally said they "would walk 500 more" miles. Let's just pretend they didn't]

Now a whole year sounds like a long time. A year has 52 weeks. After allowing for at least a couple of weeks where I'll be out of the country on holidays, I will have to average around 10 miles a week for the year. Again this might not sound much but I reckon it will be quite challenging, especially given all the other crap I have on. (eg work). I'm going to have to get out there at least twice a week for the year, probably at least three times for the first few months. Even if its cold. Maybe even if its raining. Not if its icy and slippy though. I am not suicidal.

So 500 miles is a good target. Hopefully I'll beat it.

Now there is a secondary point to this. If I'm going to run a long way, I might as well do it for a good reason. Hence I have set up a page where you can sponsor me! All funds raised will go to Cancer Research (they'll probably just use them to make stupid armbands, but that's their choice). I've set a target for this of £500 - that's £1 for every mile I run. All major credit and debit cards accepted. You should be able to donate immediately or pledge an amount that will only be payable should I reach the target.

I'll even give a prize to whoever makes the biggest donation. Maybe a signed photo of me running or something like that. And as one final incentive, I'll match pound for pound the first donation that gets made (but only up to around £20 max - I don't want to get shafted by some rich dude).

So, the sponsor page is here - please help if you are able! I'll keep the sidebar and sponsor page updated with progress on miles run and money raised. I'll also post up some technical rules that I'll be following in the Run-a-thon 500 at some point the next few days.

The run starts here!

I am as good as Hercules

Now here's an interesting thing. Like me, the Great Hero Hercules was once set 12 challenges. For reference, I'll list them here (thanks to Mr R Herring for doing the research here - I've just nicked this info from his 2004 Edinburgh programme):

1. To kill The Nemean Lion
2. To kill the Lernean Hydra
3. To capture the Hind of Ceryneia
4. To catch the Erymanthian Boar
5. To clean the Aegean Stables
6. To get rid of some birds near Stymphalos
7. To capture the Cretan Bull
8. To capture King Diomedes' mares
9. To steal the Girdle of Hippolyte
10. To rustle the Cattle of Geryon
11. To scrump the Apples of Hesperides
12. To kidnap Cerberus of Hades

Unfortunately for Hercules, he was deemed to have failed task 2 (because he had help from someone else) and task 5 (because he asked for payment). Hence even the Great Hero Hercules only scored 10 challenges out of 12. I am as good as a Greek Legend at doing challenges. I'll reiterate what I said yesterday: I rock.

Books read in 2005

A quick post to tidy up some of the detritus left over from 2005. All the way from the sidebar, here are the books I read last year. Only 20 in total which is a bit below the 2 per month I'd normally aim at.

Going Postal - Terry Pratchett
Eats, Shoots & Leaves - Lynne Truss
Join Me - Danny Wallace
Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Time's Eye - Arthur C. Clarke & Stephen Baxter
Dead Lines - Greg Bear
Foucault's Pendulum - Umberto Eco
Lost in a Good Book - Jasper Fforde
Evolution - Stephen Baxter
The 13 1/2 lives of Captain Bluebear - Walter Moers
The Scar - China Meiville
The Oxford Murders - Guillermo Martinez
Over The Edge: Death in Grand Canyon - Ghiglieri & Myers
The Algebraist - Iain M Banks
Singularity Sky - Charles Stross
Slant - Greg Bear
To Hold Infinity - John Meaney
Knees Up Mother Earth - Robert Rankin
Century Rain - Alastair Reynolds
The Light Ages - Ian R MacLeod

Of these, I think I will claim Century Rain as my favourite. But there is no cash prize for this. Sorry, Mr Reynolds.

2005 Challenge Summary

Happy New Year everybody. It's 2006, day 1.

This post will be a wrap up of the 12 challenges that I set myself for 2005. Sadly I didn't manage all 12. Excuses are below!

1: LIGHT
At the start of the year, I had no lightshades in the flat. None at all. How on Earth could I resolve this nightmarish situation? It was truly intractable... until I went to the British Home Stores lighting department and purchased six lightshades. Job done. I have four uplighters and two downlighters - one of these is mounted slightly strangely to avoid it being smacked every time I use the front door.

2: BED
My second bedroom had no bed. It was not useful for sleeping guests in. It didn't even provide me with a place to kip should I have had a fight with myself and made me go and sleep in a separate bed for a night. As bedrooms go, it was not pulling its weight. So I bought a bed from the internet. As of now, nobody has actually used the bed for sleeping (or anything else for that matter) but one day I could have some friends stay over. It could happen!

3: DATE
I wanted to go on a date. Well, thanks to a friend putting me in touch with somebody, this happened back in early February. A very pleasant dinner in a York-based restaurant, and we subsequently saw each other several times afterwards. Didn't really work out as a long term thing, but I'd like to think we've remained friends (though I probably should call or write more often that I do!). And also she's probably reading this so I should be nice - though I would be nice anyway. So, thanks for a great time, you, I enjoyed the whisky :-)

4: COUNTRY
Next up was to visit a previously unvisited country. Sadly my main holiday for the year was to the USA which I'd already been to a few years earlier. Instead I went for a weekend in Denmark. Partly this was to annoy Bert since he'd failed to go to Denmark a few months earlier. Whilst I enjoyed myself, I'm not sure I really like the travelling completely alone aspect. Dinnertimes especially were a bit lonely.

5: PROMOTE
In order to get a promotion at work I went for the radical option of applying for a job at a higher grade. I got it. Because I poisoned all the other applicants with DeadRat.

6: SKILL
I wanted to learn to do something new. So I took up ballroom/latin dancing. We've been going most Monday nights since early in the year and have now learnt many many dances. I won't list them here, but I could summarise which ones by saying "All of them". Yes, I can now do every dance ever invented Really Really Well. I am the Lord Of The Dance. I also have a tendency to exaggerate. As well as the dancing, later in the year I started to do running, but I'm not sure that this counts as a skill as such. I suppose there is a degree of skill in being able to move faster than walking pace without falling over.

7: RADIO
And here we come to my first failure. All I had to do was get my name on national radio. Should have been relatively easy, but the thing I fell down on was laziness. During the year, my efforts comprised of one email to Mark Radcliffe, one email to Scott Mills and a couple of text messages. Poor attempt, I know. You could think I wasn't taking these things seriously.

8: PUB
York has many pubs within its city walls. I decided to visit all of them and get photos. I finished this a couple of days ago. Particular thanks here to the guys and gals from my team at work for helping with the last few. You're all stars.

9: COOK
This was my second failure. I was to cook for someone I hadn't met at the start 2005. I made some progress towards this goal - I bought dining chairs so that we could sit and eat the cooked food. I also met some people that I hadn't met before that I could potentially cook for. But the actual arranging and cooking part never happened. There is a possibility that I might have made some toast for someone once but if I did I clearly didn't think it counted at the time and so can't change that decision now. Darn. Stupid food.

10: SOBER
Drinking is fun, but sometimes it's good to have a break from it. So break I did. I went for 8 whole days without a drink, beating my target of a week by a whopping whole day. I don't think it was a very exciting 8 days though.

11: EBAY
eBay is fun. You can sell shit on it. I arbitrarily chose £200 as a target and then tried to make this amount by selling stuff lying around the flat - old CDs and computer games etc. I beat the target by five english pounds. I could have got higher, as I still have tons of stuff to get rid off. The best bit about this challenge was that I actually made a decent amount of cash out of it - more than enough to pay for all the dancing lessons. Though not for the dancing lessons plus the trip to Denmark's Copenhagen.

12: SONGS
And the final challenge was to write ten new songs. I finished and wrote about this yesterday so won't go into further details here.

So overall, did I pass or fail? 10/12 would be a pretty good score in most tests. I say... PASS PASS PASSSSSSSSS! I rock.

And finally, here's a picture of yesterday's lunch:

Challenge #12: SONGS - Complete!

And another challenge tumbles. I'd set myself a task to write and record 10 new songs this year. 10 was a fairly arbitrary number, but it made for a better target than just saying "write some songs". As of three days ago, Wednesday, I had got to four. Yes, in nearly 12 months I had squeezed out just four drops of musical juice. Not very impressive.

In fact, I'd pretty much written off the whole thing. There was no way I was going to get another six songs done in the days I had left. If I'm honest, I'd been thinking the same thing for months anyway. It wasn't going to happen.

But over Christmas, I was chatting to my Brother-In-Law and he pointed out a useful thing to me. They don't have to be good songs! So far I'd been relying on those flashes of inspiration that sometimes come along. Unfortunately these had been rare and some of the better ones had never been noted down at the time and so were forgotten forever more. But if I were to just sit down at the computer and write... anything... that could get me the six I needed! It would still be a bit tight, six songs and three days. This would need a small effort on my part.

But I only gone and done it!

Now I don't bring false illusions to this party. I ain't no Chris Martin. I ain't even no Kris Kross. The songs I've ended up with aren't going to set the charts alight. My guitar playing and singing are strictly amateurish. But that's not important. I've created. I've made. I am an artist.

Here's a brief description of the songs:

1. Busted Are Dusted
This is the tribute to Busted I wrote upon hearing that they'd split up. I published the lyrics back in January. Arguably the best song about Busted breaking up ever written by a Northern Lad with little talent.

2. Falling in Love Song
This is about realising that you're falling in love with someone and being a bit scared. The title lacks imagination. Interestingly, I have no memory of writing or recording this one at all. I just found it when I loaded up Garage Band one day. But it's definitely me. The voice and lyrical undeftness are a giveaway.

3. Fantasy
A song about not being rejected. The title's a small joke. Good chorus though.

4. Cover My Ears
Sometimes people say things that they don't mean because they can't or won't say what they really want to say. That's because people are crap. Maybe if they thought I couldn't hear, they'd say what they really meant. The title could also be taken to be what other people might think upon hearing this song. It works on several levels.

5. Two Weeks
Sadly, this isn't a follow-up to the Bare Naked Ladies' One Week. Instead it's about having to wait two weeks to see someone again and that seeming an awfully long time. Three hundred and thirty six hours, the song tells me.

6. Pizza Girl
This is about a guy (me?) who orders pizza one day and then falls in love at first sight with the girl who delivers it. In the hopes of seeing her again he starts to order more pizza. But it keeps being delivered by blokes, not the foxy girl. "Next night I ordered a pizza from my computer, In the hope of seeing the girl on her scooter, Pepperoni and chicken with extra mozzarella, I was praying it wouldn't be brought by a fella.". This goes on for months, the bloke gets morbidly obese, is admitted to hospital where he dies without ever having have seen the girl again. Quite tragic really.

7. Millions Shining
I felt like writing a song about the stars. I actually wrote this one a few months ago but I rejected it because it was shit. However, I resurrected it yesterday out of desperation!

8. Station
This is about standing in a cold train station on a dark Sunday night waiting for the train that would bring a girl back to me. A bit soppy, but it might appeal to people who like train stations. Or waiting. This is another one where I could maybe have thought of a better title.

9. Sleep
A song about lying in bed at night, not being able to sleep but not minding because I'm sharing the bed with someone wonderful. (I still end up sodding tired in the morning, mind, but that part isn't in the song).

10. I Wish I'd Told You
The final song is fairly simple but structured a bit differently to the others - it's one of those ones that starts with the chorus rather than the verse. It's about wishing the opportunity had been taken to tell someone how I felt before saying goodbye in case I never saw them again (ie in case they died in a freak whaling accident or something. That shit happens. I saw it on telly).

So that's all of them! And no, you can't have a CD.

Festive 20 - 2005

It's that time of year again when I compile my list of the best 20 tunes of the year, under slightly arbitrary rules. 2003 was topped by The Crimea, 2004 by Thirteen Senses. Who will have made this year's official Best Song? Find out shortly. Now! Take it away Top Of The Pops music:

20: Start Wearing Purple - Gogol Bordello
19: Sixteen Military Wives - The Decemberists
18: Portions for Foxes - Rilo Kiley
17: Living for the Weekend - Hard-Fi
16: What a Lovely Dance - Hal
15: Remain - Kubb
14: Forget Myself - Elbow
13: Jerk It Out - Caesars
12: Further - Longview
11: The Bright Ambassadors of Morning - Pure Reason Revolution
10: Please Stand Up - British Sea Power
9: My Drug - Cherry Falls
8: Lay Me Down - Crosby & Nash
7: Love Steals Us From Loneliness - Idlewild
6: Wires - Athlete
5: Katie - David Ford
4: Other Side of the World - KT Tunstall
3: Landed - Ben Folds
2: 1000 Bulbs - Four Day Hombre
1: Joe's Kiss - Amsterdam

Artists who just missed out this year include Art Brut and Coldplay. Bad luck boys. Try not to lose too much sleep over this tragedy. The Crimea also lost out this year because the songs I would have put in here were actually in the 2003 list.

I was quite surprised to see Crosby & Nash make an appearance in the list. I know it's my list and I therefore really shouldn't be too surprised by its contents, but nevertheless I was surprised.

If there were any utterly brilliant songs I've missed, then I apologise and blame my pot of clerical errors. And if any of the songs in the list are actually crap, well then that's your problem for being wrong. Because they're not crap, they're all fantastic.

Challenge #8: PUB - Complete!

I've managed to finally knock another challenge on the head. I am now claiming that I have visited all the pubs and bars within the city walls of York. Here's a Slide Show of me in them all. It's a bit scary to see them all in quick succession, especially the ones where I am pulling some really strange and amusing faces. There are 82 photos in total.

I did the final one, The Blue Bell, earlier today all on my ownsome. Here I am:



Can you see how happy I look to have finally finished this ridiculous task? See the joy on my face?

There is potentially some room for argument about exactly which venues should have been included in this task. I'm aware of two places (Flares and Macmillans) that I haven't been to, but in my head they are both more like clubs than bars and can hence be excluded. And also they are sh*t-holes. I think I've got everywhere else though. And if I haven't, tough. My challenge, my rules. And it's over when I say it is, which is now.

Snow picture

I think there's a tradition or an old charter or something that when it snows you have to take a photo. Just to prove that the transient snow is real and not just a figment.

So here's a picture of the snow we had in Sheffield after Christmas.



It was night-time and there weren't any people about to leave footprints or snowmen. It looks peaceful. Also, interestingly, Sheffield is genuinely only available in Black and White after 7pm.

Ice and Tea

Bloomin' 'eckers. It's cold and icy and horrid out. Just been out for lunch but am happy to now be back home with a hot cup of tea. Blackcurrant tea to be specific. It smells good.

Starting to get quite bored now...

When I was arsed enough to get out of bed this morning, I looked out of my window to discover a light coating of snow. This was news to me, but not to most of my family since they'd all been up for hours already. I don't think of myself as lazy though, it's just that I'm enjoying having a break. And it wasn't really that late, only a quarter to eleven.

I headed off to the local chavvy shopping centre to buy a birthday card. Since it was a bit slippy out and I haven't got my boots with me (due to a lack of suitcase space) I wore my running trainers. But it was still a little slippy in places. The main change to the shops since I was last there is that there's now no sodding newsagents. GT News was the only useful shop there (it sold newspapers, magazines and crisps) and now it's gone, replaced by nothing at all. I had to go to Sainsburys to get a paper and that was just annoying.

I think that other people's supermarkets are one of the most irritating things in the world. My own Sainsburys at home, I know where everything is. I know that inevitably the first thing I'll get to is the tea. Here, I don't have that comfort. Although they lull me into a false sense of security by having the fresh fruit and vegetable produce in the same place as I go in, after that all bets are off. It takes twice as long to do anything because you waste minutes and minutes trying to find a pork pie.

I mean, what kind of idiot puts pork pies on the right hand wall just beyond the fruit?? Pastry products should be at least four aisles in. At least. And as for where they'd put the dolly mixtures... words fail me.

But I survived. I purchased my minimal basket of goods and left for home where I then wasted too many hours doing the puzzles in The Guardian's 27th December Puzzle Special. But god, they are a waste of time. You finish a Sudoku and then what do you get? Sod all. Just the thought of there being 14 more of the buggers still to go. None of which will bring any real satisfaction when complete. I really reckon I'd get the same ultimate enjoyment if I just ripped them out of the paper, cut up the little squares with scissors, threw them in the air and then danced naked underneath singing about the joys of pork pie.

I didn't do that though. It would have scared my little nephew.

Back to York tomorrow, as long as I don't get snowed in here. That would be bad

The UK's Christmas Top 10 Singles

Here are my thoughts on the 2005 Christmas top 10 singles. In reverse order:

10: Coldplay - Talk.
C'mon lads, this isn't very Christmassy, is it? Next year I want to hear a proper original Coldplay Christmas song with bells and reindeer and arguments all over it.

9: Girls Aloud - See The Day. 8: Madonna - Hung Up. 7: Pussycat Dolls - Stickwitu.
This part of the chart is where all the girls are hanging around. But again, we need more bells. Christmas music = bells. Is that a hard concept to grasp? Phil Spector understood that perfectly. Just because he turned out to be (possibly/allegedly/maybe not) a murderer doesn't mean that his views on Christmas should be ignored. In fact, my advice for Girls Aloud is for the five of them to head around to their local high security prison and for them to ask some of the more dangerous inmates exactly what they'd like Girls Aloud to do next Christmas. They might have to ignore some of the more lugubrious suggestions.

6: The Crazy Frog - Jingle Bells/U Can't Touch this
Now if you did get the loopier inhabitants of Dartmoor Prison to actually create a single, this might be what it would sound like. Why would anyone sane ever consider doing a cover version of an MC Hammer song? I accept that the "anyone" here is possibly not sane since they are a short cartoon frog with a blurry penis, but it's still wrong, wrong, wrong. I mean, who actually buys this stuff? Is there a large outlet within Dartmoor itself? Do the inhabitants each buy several copies with the cigarettes that they've been saving up? Anyone involved in making or buying this gazelle-doo-doo should be locked up themselves, forever-ever. And when I become Prime Minister I will make that happen. That's my goal.

5: Eminem - When I'm gone
I wonder if when Eminem is actually dead and gone, he'll just keep putting out single after single like Tupac did?

4: Westlife feat Diana Ross
If I was actually listening to these singles whilst writing this, it's at about this point I'd be reaching for the letter opener with a view to opening a vein. Preferably the jugular vein of all of Westlife. I'll leave Diana alone, she's probably old and senile with no idea what she's doing any more.

3: The Pogues - Fairytale of New York
Best. Christmas. Song. Ever.

2: Nizlopi - JCB Song
When I first heard about this, I was sceptical. A song about a five year old and a digger? I assumed it would be a Bob The Builder type novelty song aimed at five year olds who like diggers. But it's not. It's actually a gentle, innocent song about how life is much simpler when you're a kid, with your father there to look after you. And about how at that age, anything seems possible. You're not constrained by the standard limitations of reality that adults get hung up on. If you want a T-Rex to eat up all the bastards at school, then it might just happen.

It's a great little song and it should have been number one. And Optimus Prime is in the video.

1: Shane Warne - That's My Goal
Goooooaaaaaallllll. Quite why Australian cricketer and X-Factor winner Shane Warne has felt the need to release a crappy song about football, I may never know. That's My Wicket would have been more appropriate. It would still have sounded crap though.

And that's all I have to say.

Have yourself a Christmas

It's Christmas! Again. So Happy Christmas everyone (unless you're feeling down, in which case Miserable Christmas to you!).

On Friday afternoon and evening I went out on something of a pub crawl, taking in along the way some of the less illubrious (is that a word?) pubs of York. The Brown Cow was a particular highlight - as we arrived, in the later afternoon, there were some police outside who looked like they were breaking up a fight between some drunks. We slipped inside, drank a swift half of bitter and then quickly left.

Round the corner from there we found a man shouting and swearing at his car.

But we had a good time.

Since then, I've spent some time in bed, some time out of bed, the usual. For the first time in my life, I went out running on Christmas morning today. I hadn't really intended to, but my sister suggested it and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Since I'm in Sheffield at the moment, I didn't do one of my standard York routes - the 100 mile round trip would have been a little further than I could cope with whilst having a mild Christmas hangover. Instead, there are some lakes nearby which I was able to run around. It was really rather pleasant. There were a hell of a lot of people out walking their dogs. Big dogs, small dogs, plain dogs and spotty dogs. All sorts of them.

But clearly the most exciting and anticipated part of today will be the Doctor Who Christmas Special, now only two and a half hours away. I think most people are just as excited about this. It's gonna be fabby.

And finally, I haven't really mentioned it here so far, but a young lady has entered my little world recently and has been making me smile. I might write more about her soon, but I'll have to think of a name for her first. I'm missing her a lot. :-)

Running Late

It's Christmas Eve and I'm running late. I have a huge pile of presents to wrap, a bag to pack and a train to catch. I should get on with it. And not write this.

Out of office

Well that's working finished for another year! I think I'll go back again next year though. If they'll have me...

Yo-yo, dude!

Today at work I was given a yo-yo. How cool???

I used to have good skills at the yo-yo. Though they have now weakened somewhat from years of neglect, I was still the best yo-yoer in the department by some margin.

Just let me sleep...

What does a guy have to do to get a good night of uninterrupted sleep?

Yesterday I bedded myself nice and early with the intention of sleeping straight through until morning, without interruption or disturbance, when I would wake up refreshed and ready to face the final push to Christmas.

This didn't quite happen.

At some time after midnight, my door buzzer went off. It is quite loud and it woke me up - this is a good feature if for example the postman is delivering an important package in the morning. The postman rarely comes in the small hours of the morning though (ahem) even in these days where the postal service seems under constant degeneration. I ignored the buzzer, figuring it was probably just some drunks.

A short while later it went again. I ignored it again.

Then it went again, so I got out of bed, grabbed my dressing gown and went to reply. But there was nobody on the other end of the door-phone. So I assumed it was either a) just some drunks who had now run off or b) my imagination.

I went back to bed and tried to get some shut-eye. This predictably lasted mere seconds. I started to be able to hear noises from around the other flats and from the corridors. I figured this was likely other residents who'd also been awoken my imaginary door buzzers and had been more active in trying to find out what was going on - possibly including them heading outside with sharp sticks.

I thought "grrrrr".

Then I had a knock on my door. I thought "oh stuff and nonsense. what now. who can that be a-knockin' on my door at half past the witching hour?". I was too tired to think with appropriate capitalisation. I got up again, re-put on my gown and went to answer the door. Looking through the spy-hole I saw two police-women.

I thought "oh bugger, they've finally come for me. i always knew this would happen one day. i'm off to prison forever".

I opened the door to them. They observed that it looked like they'd awoken me. They had the gall to sound surprised at this, despite it being way past a sensible school-night bedtime. I confirmed that they had awoken me. They smiled. They were actually quite attractive.

However, since this was real life and not a pornographic movie, they then explained what they were doing. They'd been given some kind of bogus address and were looking for a bloke whose name I didn't recognise and who certainly does not live in my flat since, as far as I'm aware, I live alone. They were doing flat-to-flat calls to try and establish what was happening. I said that I knew no such person.

They then went away and let me go back to bed.

It took ages to get back to sleep.

The only good thing that came out of this was that I got the phone number of the attractive police-women. 999!!!! Booom Boom!

Do I get a wish?

I think I had my first mince pie of this year's Christmas season today. A bit late, but it tasted... good.

Three for two (and two for tea)

I tried to buy a Christmas present today. I was in town early (for a Sunday) and so the shops were quiet. If I'd maybe give more thought aforehand I might have had a really productive session. What actually happened was that I wanted to buy a book. It's a very easy book to buy, all the bookshops have it. It should have been very incredibly easy for me to walk into a bookshop and buy it.

In fact, I'm sure that Waterstones, Borders or even WH Smiths would happily have sold the book to me had I managed to move it from a shelf to a counter. I'd have given the kind person behind the counter some money, I'd have taken the book home. Capitalism would have worked its wheels once more.

None of this happened, because I got hung up and stressed over a 3 for 2 offer. This book was in such an offer in one of the shops only - let's for the sake of argument, call it Waterstones. This was bad because it meant that the book was technically cheaper there and straight away I'd be mad to buy it elsewhere. That would be like giving money away for no reason.

So my choice of purchase-shop was made. All I had to do was buy the book. But now I was stuck in a three for two and to save money I would have to find at least one more book I wanted. Two would be good, but I could make this work with one.

Could I find any other books though? Of course I sodding couldn't. They had hundreds of books in their offer but any that were remotely good I already had. I could have found other books elsewhere in the store but they would have been no use.

So I had a dilemma. I could either buy the book at full price, knowing that I was being messed with and ripped off, with my mental health suffering accordingly, or I could not buy it. Option two won out. I left the shop empty handed.

So, Mr Tim Waterstone (or whoever owns the chain now. Sorry, Tim, if it's not you) here's what trouble you've caused today with your love of multi-buy offers.

1. I nearly lost a proportion of my mentalness, and I don't have much of that to spare.
2. One of my FriendsOrFamily is incrementally less likely to receive a present this Christmas that they might have liked slightly. Can you live with that?
3. You lost an easy sale that you could have had.
4. Not only that, all your competitors lost a sale too because I was sulking.
5. Imagine the effect that this will have upon the English economy. Can you live with that? All that extra unemployment and crime and illicit backyard sex?
6. I may now lose an extra part of one of my lunchtimes in the week, whilst I attempt to resolve this issue. This will reduce my overall productivity and that of my employer and hence that of England too. This might lead to more illicit backyard sex (maybe).
7. Can you, really, CAN YOU LIVE WITH THAT MR W (or whoever the appropriate person to address is now, as discussed above)?

Waterstones? Wankerstones more like. I'd bouycot them but I always have trouble spelling the word.

Maybe I'll write something interesting tomorrow

Tonight is a big night on TV for people without lives since it features the finals of both The X-Factor and Strictly Come Dancing. I'll be watching SCD. I'd like Zoe Ball to win, mainly because her dad is the legendary Johnny Ball.

In contrast to last Saturday, I've managed to actually do a couple of useful things today. I've had my hair cut (too late for most of my Xmas parties, but it still needed doing...) and also bought some Christmas cards and stamps. Now I just need to write the bastards.

I nearly bought a Christmas present too. But in the end I was put off by the queues. I've still got loads of time for that kind of thing.

Don't listen to that

One thing I've recently noticed is that whilst iPods are great, iPod headphones are rubbish. Really quiet.

Just thought I'd share that.

In other news, :-)

Watch out ladies...

I'm looking hot tonight...

Badger Week Continues

Last night I went for a curry at The Akash. Good curry house, I'd recommend it despite its lack of size.

After dinner they gave us all an inflatable badger! After my experiences of the past couple of days, this struck me as inconceivable! On closer inspection the badgers turned out to be calendars for 2006. When we looked at these in the dark last night we thought they featured pictures of Yorkshire, lovely Yorkshire (you really should visit).

Upon more close inspection this morning the pictures were actually of places like Bangladesh and Chittagong. Arguably the paddy fields and oxen should have been a giveaway.

No Badgers Here

I was back in the fancy dress shop at lunchtime. Whilst I was in there, not one person asked about the availability or otherwise of inflatable badgers. After my experience yesterday, this disappointed me. I shan't return.

Badgers

True story: I was in a fancy dress shop at lunch time when this guy walks in. He goes up to the counter and says "Hi. Do you have any inflatable badgers?". The shop assistant replied "No, sorry we don't. I've never even seen an inflatable badger.". And then the first guy left, badgerless. If this hadn't been a true story there would have been a great punchline here.

I was left wondering two things:
1. What on earth did he want with an inflatable badger? Was he putting on a special blow-up version of Wind In The Willows?
2. Why didn't the assistant try to sell an alternative animal? Something more conventional, like a vole or an aardvark. I expect they have a backroom full of inflatable marmosets. He missed a good sale there.

My Weekend

That's the best title for a post, ever!

I haven't managed to do some of the things I was supposed to have done this weekend. These would have included:
- Buying Chistmas cards
- Organising a 60s/70s themed costume for the Christmas dinner on Wednesday
- Have a haircut
- Buying a newspaper
- Other things that are even duller than that last one
- And maybe some other things that I've forgotten

On the other hand, it's been a good weekend. So far anyway. There are still five hours of Sunday left...

Bah Humbug

Whenever I take part in a Secret Santa I'm sure that I always end up down on the deal. We had one yesterday, with gifts worth a maximum of five pounds - I got a black and white Santa Hat with the words "Bah, Humbug" on it. It doesn't even have an exclamation mark. I suspect that whoever bought it may not have understood the instruction that gifts could be up to five pounds. Or maybe they were just tight.

I wore it though - it kept my head warm.

Bad me. Bad!

I think I might have done something naughty this morning. Whoops. Ah well, so sue me.

Music Items 1 to 3

The following post is mostly about music. If you don't like music, I suggest you read yesterday's post which was mostly about snowmen.

Music Item Number 1
Last night I went to see The Electric Soft Parade at Fibbers. Haven't seen them play for a couple of years - but now they're back and still great, even though the sound wasn't brilliant at times. There were supposed to have been six of us going, so I bought six tickets. Unfortunately, three of them dropped out due to illness/laziness/perhapsitwassomethingisaidness leading to there being more spare tickets than is normal. It worked out ok though because I was able to sell the two spares I had on me to strangers outside the venue. I felt like a dirty tout, but I got the job done. The third ticket was not in my possession but since I had already received money for it, the fact that it remained unsold was Somebody Else's Problem.

More interestingly, at the end of the gig, the drummer got up and I thought: "Hmmm, I don't remember ESP's drummer being a fat bloke". My memory was correct. The drummer yesterday was in fact, Matt Priest, ex of Dodgy (Unless it wasn't and I was just lied to by a band, and I believed it like a seven year old. That can happen).

Music Item Number 2
Many years ago, Belle and Sebastian recorded one of my all time favourite albums, If You're Feeling Sinister. It's great. Earlier this year, the band played the whole album live from start to finish at a gig in London. The gig was recorded and has now been put out as an album (which I think is only available on iTunes). I've listened to it a couple of times now, and suffice to say, this new version is great too! The same but different. Like all live albums, it suffers slightly from annoying clapping in places but generally, yes it's great. Warm fluffy smile, Happy face.

Music Item Number 3
And finally, I realised whilst out running yesterday that I hadn't ever put a single one of my Toad The Wet Sprocket albums on to my iPod for some reason. This evening I have remedied this. I think Fear is still my favourite. Is it really 14 years old? (yes)

Death of a Snowman

Whilst slightly bored on Sunday night I started playing with a computer drawing program, and this is what I made:



It might be funny if you're an actuary or then again it might not be. I think it's amusing but I also quite enjoy Ben Stiller not being able to turn left in Zoolander so I'm possibly not a good judge.

What it definitely does do, is draw out the tragic, mayfly-like life of your average English snowman. Each year, thousands of snowmen are born here in England. How many of them make it past their first year of existence? None. They fall prey to all sorts of ends - meltings, beheadings, avalanches and plain good old fashioned cholera. The only certain thing is that come 1 year later they are all gone, as if they were never there.

I feel that these passings go largely unremarked. Where's the large memorial for them in a London Park? Where's the minute's silence? Where are the armbands, the ribbons, or the paper flowers? Does nobody care any more?

It's a travesty.

So what I hoped to do with this piece of art is to first make people laugh like they've never laughed before. But then maybe they'll think: "That snowman cartoon was really, really funny, funnier even than Derek Zoolander's inability to turn left. But now that I give it more thought, there was a very serious point being made there too. I've never considered the plight of the English snowmen before but that picture has made me rethink. In fact, it's made me see the whole of my life with a different perspective. I feel renewed, reborn and remade. I am a better person. I care, and I will do all in my power to aid the Snowmen and ensure their need is recognised by the wider population. Oh yes."

If just four hundred people think this way then I, as an artist, will have succeeded. I will have Changed The World For The Better.

And that has to be a great thing.

0.05 miles per hour

This evening I finished my first marathon! Yep, in just three and a half weeks I have run over 26 miles and hence I must qualify for some sort of medal and a big shiny metal cape. I expect they're in the post - I was a little disheartened when there wasn't a man outside my front door wating for me with said items when I got home. Am I supposed to have called someone first to set that up? Aren't they just supposed to know? Who are "they" anyway? And why aren't they watching me?

Misdirection

My parents came up to visit today and I took my mother shopping in town. The way I take my mother shopping is that she tells me a shop she wants to go to, I take her to it and wait outside and she goes in and does whatever it is that mothers do in shops. It seems to take a long time.

Today I was waiting outside Duttons for Buttons. A young couple came up to me and asked if I could point them in the right direction for the Jorvik centre. I could indeed do this - they just had to go back the way they'd come about twenty metres and then turn left down a pedestrian street. They'd have been there in about a minute.

Unfortunately for them, I appeared to have a brief mental seizure and forgot where I was standing. I thought I was up the other end of the street I was on. I pointed them in what I thought was the right direction, but sadly my instructions will have taken them to a completely wrong place. I'm wondering how far down Walmgate they will have gotten before realising they had been misled.

The funny thing was that as they walked off (in the wrong direction), I overheard the girl saying to the boy "see, I told you it was down here". For a short while the boy will have felt useless. But soon they would both have felt useless, perhaps thinking that they had been too stupid to follow the simple directions that that nice man had given them.

Maybe they'll have had an argument about it, ended their relationship there and then on the spot (outside Macdonalds the furniture shop, not to be confused with the other one) and then both comitted suicide by tossing themselves into the septic waters of the River Foss. Maybe.

Ah well, I'd like to say sorry to both of them that their sad pathetic lives had to end that way.

Placeholder

I didn't really expect to see much of this morning, and I sort of wish I hadn't because a) It's miserable and wet outside and almost certainly cold too; b) It means I don't have the hangover I'd fully intended to have (which is actually a bad thing).

The Miracle Of Tea

I'm starting today with a mug of Earl Grey. That's not interesting but it is information. Since information is knowledge and knowledge is power, then each and every one of you is a little bit more powerful today than you were yesterday.

I said earlier in the week that I was going to have my first lie in (until 8) on Thrusday for well over a month. Sadly that fell through and has now been postponed to Monday. But then it will happen. Even if I have to strap myself to my bed with leg-irons. I had some installed a few years ago for just such an occassion as this.

But back to the Earl Grey. I wonder if the human race would have advanced so far without the miracle of hot drinks? Normal Tea, Odd Tea, Coffee in all its many forms, Lemsip, Mulled Wine and Fresh Urine - all these drinks have advanced mankind to its present state. I could dwell on this longer but I Have To Go.

Christmas starts here

Since today was the 1st December, the Christmas season has officially started, in my book. This means one thing: tinsel around my computer monitor at work. I've got a piece that I've had for a few years that I've taken with me from role to role. It's a good piece of tinsel and has always served me well.

It sparkles like silver sparklings. It wasn't long before the rest of my team got jealous and they dug out the official team box of decorations, a slightly sorry collection of more tinsel and a single christmas bell which we stuck on the boss's door. He was happy when he saw it. Yes.

Tomorrow is the 2nd of December and will contain my first Christmas Dinner of the year. From then on it's Christmas dinners every week, possibly until next June.

Merry Christmas everyone!