Well, I have come up with a use for my other blog, Dark Meadow. If you go over there, you will find a nice introductory post, entitled Welcome to the Dark Meadow blog, and the first of hopefully many reviews of the books in my booklist.

John Wyndham’s “Stowaway to Mars”

And yes, I am aware of the overal pervailing sense of greyness that has once more descended on my blogs, but I was fed up to the back-teeth with the old scheme, and wanted a change. I’m working on something slightly less… grey… but for now, enjoy 🙂

(Ooh, what a blog-a-licious weekend this has been. Anything other than reading boring journal articles. There was a point last night when all posts were firstly ‘click here to view the rest of the post’, and then all were hidden till you pressed the magic button, and assorted other doo-dads got played around with, but in the end I settled for putting the archives in a drop-down menu, and deleting the side-note column. Certain reservations not withstanding, I’m going with this version of endnotes for now. Wanted a drop-down menu for the ‘previous posts’ as well, but I like long titles, and the width got all screwy. All because I couldn’t remember the html for blockquotes.)

I quit my job at the coffee shop back in February, and, apart from noticing the distinct downwards trend of my bank balance, I haven’t missed it one bit. Alas, in the past two days, it has been brought home to me just how great the perks of the job were. Anyone who has any claims to be a friend of mine knows that I like drinking tea. Not so odd, you might think, given that I am British ^*1*, but I do drink more than the average Brit my age seems to. Nothing wrong with that – tea is a remarkably healthy beverage, chock to the brim with anti-oxidants and the like ^*2*. Not only is tea good for me, it is good for those around me as well. The Latvian Lovely says that seeing me in the morning makes her feel better about herself in the morning, as she can’t possibly be that bad! :S

So the problem. I worked for a company specializing in quality tea and coffee on and off for the past seven years, and sadly educated my palate to prefer something tastier than the average Tetley teabag. I’m not a total tea-snob, and willingly drink Tetley tea when I’m back at the homestead, or PG Pyramids when I’m on the boat with Farv ^*3*, but if I have a choice, give me a cup of Whittard of Chelsea Assam tea any day of the week. When I was working for the company, this was fine, because we got an allowance of 125g tea (or coffee) every two weeks, and even I can’t get through 40 teabags in two weeks. Built me up a nice stockpile. Which I finished two days ago, necessitating a trip back to the old store, and purchasing three boxes. Even with a multi-buy and student discount, this came to £4.50, which, for 120 teabags is a bit steep. Alas, like with coffee, I now understand and appreciate the different tastes of tea, and cheaper stuff just tastes nasty.

I can guess that I’m not getting through. Think of it like wine or whisky. You will drink the £3.99 bottle of cheap Tesco’s red, or Asda’s blended malt if you have to, but given your druthers, you’d rather have the £40 Chateau Whosit or 40 year Laphroaig single malt. *WARNING – age & geographic restrictions await you at the end of that link. The following is from their terms and conditions:

Legal drinking age – to use this Site you must be of legal drinking age OR of the age required in order to purchase alcohol in your country – if you are not please exit this Site. We look forward to informing you about Laphroaig at an appropriate time in the future.
Restricted Territories – in some countries of the world it is not permissible for citizens to visit a Site like ours due to local laws restricting the sale and/or promotion of alcoholic beverages. If you are visiting from a country where restrictions apply, you should exit this Site now. If you are unsure about the law, you should exit now and check your legal position before continuing.

Happy browsing 🙂

My other problem is that I am a remarkably clutzy individual and break more mugs than even my father, which is saying something! Unbreakable mugs do exist (I own two!) but there is something about a decent china mug, with the right heft and feel, that adds to the experience. No longer working for the company means I don’t get staff discount, so it’s getting expensive to keep me in mugs. I broke ANOTHER one the other day. Roll on the trip to Asda to get a nice(ish) mug for 67 pence that I won’t be too heartbroken to break.

Still not enough to make me go back to the job though!

This is a post I believe deserves being read again, if only because its length challenges some of my best. The pure unadulterated pain and anger that prompted JB to write this piece is palpable and really makes your heart go out to the poor chap. I think this is going to become the post I read when I have had a bad day. Nothing could be this bad, could it? Tuesdays. Don’t you just love ’em?

(NB – in this post I will be trying out a different endnote/sidenote solution that will hopefully work on all browsers. Please let me know what you think.)
Before I forget, I have great news to share – my hair is near as damn it long enough to satisfactorily head-bang once more! Not that head-banging to 70s glam rock is really that cool, but I was dancing round my room to the Sweet today, and realised to my delight that my hair once more, well, worked!

And no, I can’t explain my severe lapse in musical taste. I just like the Sweet is all. I think it must be the memories of long car journeys when I was younger, ‘Wig Wam Bam’ blasting out of the speakers of the old Saab, me and Dad singing along. I yoinked the cassette of the “Sweet Sixteen” compilation from the hifi cabinet when I was 11 and played that tape to destruction. Happy was the day when I found they had reissued the greatest hits on cd a couple of years back.

Oh god, I am so sad.

Mmmmmmmm, bluetooth headphony goodness for my iPod. This idea appeals to me. Bluetooth is a great technology, and I have been crying out [ok, not crying, but occasionally whining] for cordless headphones for my iPod. These would be so good for at the gym! But, $150 is a lot, even with a great exchange rate, and… who am I kidding, I don’t really need them! I’ve known of their existence for over a month now, thanks to Gizmodo, and I think I can survive. Well, at least wait till there is a cheaper (slightly less bulky) model on the market. These have to be below a copy of Photoshop, an OS upgrade to Tiger, and a digital camera on my wishlist. Not that far below though.

The great seaweed hunt of 2005.
Yesterday I was meant to be learning to become mad bad and dangerous (more dangerous) to know – the Nordic Ninja is giving classes in Akido on the Common at the moment – but I woke up late (it is a Saturday after all), and then Moose decided that she wanted to make sushi. Cue the need to scour the city looking for some yakinori (roasted seaweed sheets). We had directions to the nearest Chinese market from YoYo, our Taiwanese ex-flatmate, but they consisted of not much more than ‘it’s on the road just past the St Mary’s open air market’ and pointing the road out on the map. Cue putting on comfortable shoes and trudging off into the city centre^*1*. We found the market fine, after a lovely walk through the park, but then had to decide whether to turn right or left down St Mary’s street. We decided right. We should have chosen left. But in the end the shop was found, two packs of yakinori purchased, and we made it safely back to the flat. Not that great a story really, was it? The sushi that Moose made looked good though. Mine, well, I haven’t made any yet, seeing as how I’ve already eaten all the smoked salmon that I was going to be using (doh!). When I do get around to making it, you can be sure that I will inform you all of how it went. Might even take some pictures. Now that’s something for y’all to look forward to, ain’t it?

Um, um. For once, I am just at a loss for words. It is not often things can make me just look at the screen gaping like a guppy fish for five minutes at a stretch with no idea of what to say. I have this site open on the other screen as I type this and I keep catching it out of the corner of my eye and just blinking. Funny, yes, but so so wrong. Kudos to Mary for bringing it to my attention.

The other thing lately that made me just blink for five solid minutes not knowing what to say, was Bubba Ho-tep. That film defies description. I’m glad I watched it ^*2*. I found it laugh-out-loud funny and oh-my-god-that-is-SO-wrong disturbed by equal measures. It was worth it even if only to see what Bruce Campbell (of Evil Dead fame) has been doing lately. But… I couldn’t describe it if you paid me. The concept is as follows: Elvis Presley didn’t die and is living in a care home in east Texas. One of his fellow inmates is JFK, who wasn’t killed. Rather, he was dyed black and his brain replaced with sand by the Feds (his real brain is communicating with him from its jar in DC). There is a mummy on the loose who is feeding on the souls of their fellow rest-homers (can you noun rest home?) and it is up to them to stop it. I don’t think that anything else I can say will do the film justice.

I’m in a funny mood today. Enjoy this, from our friendly neighbourhood animator, Mata: God Makes a Sandwich.

You do find the oddest things in the NYT. The other day, I learned about pillows.
Apparently, “with pillows, the difference comes down to down versus synthetic fill… A good pillow of either stuff should last up to 10 years. You can test your pillow to find out if it’s past its prime. “You take your pillow, fold it in half. If it doesn’t spring forward and open instantly by itself, you’ve got a dead pillow. Replace it.”
Now, I can’t remember the last time pillows were purchased in my family. No, that’s a lie, I can. It was when I was 13, suffering from serious asthma, and the doctor suggested a synthetic pillow. It wasn’t a success. I like the cold side of the pillow and the feel that you just don’t get from synthetics. As it made no measurable improvement to my asthma, I soon returned to my trusty old pair of down pillows that are easily as old as me, if not older. So I just tried my pillows. Yep, a distinct lack of springiness from either one.

Now I face a dilemma:
1) Buy cheap synthetics I know I won’t really like sleeping on because the NYT told me to,
2) Buy really expensive down pillows that will be divine to sleep on, but will result in me not being able to afford to eat ever again, because the NYT told me to,
3) Or do nothing. I sleep ok(ish). I’m attached to my (if I must be honest slightly mangy) old pillows. They’ve been good friends. I never sleep well on pillows not my own.
Hmmmm. I shall have to sleep on this (oh, I am SO funny :P). That article of you are wondering, can be found here

ARG!!!!!!! There are times I really do wonder why I am doing this course. Today is one of them. I have spent the past two days wading through around 100 articles all claiming to relate in someway to by field. A good three quarters of them are complete and utter pants, the rest, ARG!!! Not one of the authors in ten can actually write a sentence that makes sense. ARGG!!!!

For example, the following is the abstract from an article I just finished reading:
“The grand houses and gardens of William of Orange (1650–1702) and his courtiers in Britain and the Netherlands are strongly influenced by the French style, itself associated with Louis XIV, who was actually William’s arch-rival. This paper explores that paradox by probing ideas of power and friendship in 17th-century court culture. “. Now, I just read the whole 20 pages of the damn thing, and I STILL have no idea what the woman is talking about.

Ok, enough. I’m going to drink wine, eat coconut fairy cakes in an attempt to defeat terrorism (long story), and watch “Bubba Ho-Tep” with Moose.

Night.

In an attempt to get back to normalcy as swiftly as possible, here are some of the latest offerings from this week in the news:

Ok, so it’s coincidental (they say), but surely the people who designed the logo for use when the UK takes presidency of the EU, looked to see if anything similar had been used? Especially by Euro-sceptic groups? Isn’t it common practice for logo/slogan makers to check that (for example) the name of a new chocolate bar doesn’t mean ‘die all you evil people, die’ in Mongolian or something? A quick google search probably could have averted this problem. *shakes head in dismay* The story

Now that the new versions of iTunes is out with its prettily purple integrated podcast function, a little something for all you budding podcasters to bear in mind –
“the seemingly trivial technical fact that you cannot begin to listen to the program before the file transfer is complete turns out to have important legal implications. A podcast falls in the not-a-broadcast category, which is otherwise known as file-sharing. It cannot include copyrighted music without the authorisation from the copyright owners. This is why podcasts are not the place for aspiring disc jockeys to realise their fantasies.
(NYT on podcasts)
Don’t say I never find useful things for y’all.

Two sites that will bear keeping an eye on, especially if you are after free (and legal) moving images:

• the BBC Creative Archive
• the BFI Creative Archvie

You what now? a Stoneless Avacado. I repeat, you what now?

Look at ZapWizard’s photos of a wooden iPod he made on Flickr. Asolutely mind-blowingly beautiful.¹. [The photos are on Flickr. He didn’t actually make it on Flickr. I’m on dangling modifier patrol at the moment. Tee Hee.]

Well, finally scientists are studying Kennewick Man. It’s been a long road! Note how they don’t plan to do any radiocarbon dating or other biochemical tests on the bones. This would be because they would be useless. For yes, when these bones were supposedly in secure storage with the Army, they were allowed to be used in lots of nice Native American rituals, including ones that involved the burning of sage… Ladies and Gentlemen, way to go to destroy any potential scientific value the bones might have had. I will go on record right here and say that, whilst I am not totally sure where I stand on the reburial issue, I do lean more towards reburial than not, but if you’d studied this case in any depth, you would understand how much like beating your head against a brick wall it has been!

To further piss off all those Native Americans who are dead set against the idea that they might not have been the first peoples in the New World, there’s been some footprints dating back to about 40,000 years bc found in Mexico. That’s a good 30,000 years before previous estimates. Needless to say, all my Human Origins friends are having a rather good week (it’s easy to get them excited). That news story about the old footprints.

Further evidence to go in the Bush Files that the man hasn’t entirely got to grips with how things work:
To those Europeans skeptical of his claims [about Guantanamo Bay], Mr. Bush said he would “suggest buying an airplane ticket” and going to “take a look for yourself.”
So if I walk up to the gate the nice friendly armed guard is going to let me in? Oh, and not to mention, going to Cuba if you’re American isn’t exactly smiled upon by the administration. And if as a non-US citizen you did go to Cuba, you can guarantee that next time you wanted to visit, say, New York, the immigration officials would be taking you aside for a little chat. Moose suggests that I email the Army and ask for permission to tour the base and prison at Guantanamo, quoting Bush, just to see what sort of reaction I got. Whilst that sounds like fun, I am not sure that I want to be permanently branded a trouble maker and refused permission to ever enter the States again. Not that I am planning on going any time soon, seeing as how I have a bit of a problem with their illegal searches whenever you visit. (The whole being forced to turn over potentially incriminating evidence against myself in the form of biometric data doesn’t really appeal. Is my rather shiny and pretty red passport not good enough for them?) But I’m not saying never again. Get what I’m saying?

And what I was going to lead with yesterday before all hell broke loose, Bush falls off bike. I love this story all the more because it is exactly what Bartlet did in the first ever episode of the West Wing. Only in that situation, it was a tree that the president collided with, not a police officer. Made my day that has!

More later. There’s a bit of a back-log to get through.

I am not sure how to start a post about the bombings in London. For a while I couldn’t decide even if I should talk about them, but then it was brought home to me that this blog is supposed to be about what has affected me and mine, and it would be churlish to ignore such an incident, even if it doesn’t fit in with the normal tone of the blog.

I wasn’t in London, but I do have family, and people I care about, in London. I wasn’t in New York on September the 11th, but I had family and people I care about there, and we lost friends. So when I received a call from my brother saying that he and Susan were safe, it all felt eerily familiar. There is one thing, and one thing only, that you can do in situations like this, and that is check that everyone and anyone that you know is safe. Which is what I did. Assorted friends, their families, relatives, flatmates, and the like, are all safe.

And now I have a request for all of you out there who read this blog, and it is this: let me know you are safe. Either by phone, text, email, comment, or skywriting, I don’t care. I don’t care that you might have been in a different hemisphere when 4 bombs went off in London on the 7th of July. I want to know y’all are safe. Even stealth-readers of the blog who presence I can only guess at, let me know you’re safe. Please, just touch base so I can rest easy.

There really is no way I can do justice to the total sense of futility and helplessness you feel when events such as these occur. You do what you can to get on with your day to day life, fighting back the impulse to hide under your bed and shut the world away. You get in touch with those you love and care about. You trade stories of where you were when you heard, what you were doing, and what the motives could possibly be. Some people chose to respond by declaring war on terrorists, extremists, and the totally innocent who just happen to share a belief in a given ideology. You turn to whatever makes you feel better able to cope. In my case, I turn to writing in an attempt to make sense of it, and to show that I’ve not been beaten into submission.

It is events such as these, and how we react to them, that tell us who we are as people. For me, it has confirmed my belief that there is no circumstance that justifies the taking of a human life. None what so ever. Lock murderers up by all means, throw away the key, force them to watch over and over again the home movies of the birthdays/weddings/graduations/and so on of every single person whose deaths they are responsible for, but don’t kill them. Death is what many terrorists crave. To be martyrs to a cause. It is worth remembering that for many of the people who take this course of action, they feel it is the only one open to them. The only way to beat them is to keep on with our normal lives, to refuse to give in, to keep accepting and welcoming the plurality of nations, people, and ideas that go into making up the world. That’s not a religious belief, its an ethical and moral one. I am aware that it is a highly personal belief, and isn’t one shared by most people, but there it is. We hold these truths to be self evident, a group of people once stood up and said, and as far as I am concerned “thou shall not kill” is written down in pretty much every important text you care to mention.

I shall finish this post by sending my thoughts to everyone in the world who was, or ever has been, a victim of violence. It is easy to be outraged by the attacks on London today, but people deal with this and worse, happening every single day of their lives. People, for example, in Iraq, Israel, Palestine, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Northern Ireland, Sierra Leone, the Congo, Sri Lanka, and beyond. There is no easy solution, I wish there was, but I do not believe the way to stop terrorism is to wage war on any nation too weak to defend itself, or that adheres to a belief system different to our own. Surely it has been proven time over time that violence only begets more violence. Isn’t now when we say “enough, let us sit around a table and talk”? At what point do we decide that the body count is just too high? That the current course of action is demonstrably failing, and that it is time we tried something different?

Agree with me, don’t agree with me, that is what I hold to be self evident, and what I work toward every day of my life.

Ok, just got back from seeing “War of the Worlds” with Moose and Jeff, and thought I would give you my first impressions before they faded.

I liked it, which surprises me, because I was fully prepared not to like it. I love the classics (sci-fi that is), such as H. G. Wells, John Wyndham, or Philp K. Dick, and the number of times I have seen books I have loved by authors I adore totally destroyed on the big screen, has led me to always be pessimistic about such films. That, and the reviews haven’t been so glowing as to make me think it was a sure thing. Oh, and thirdly, Spielberg hasn’t exactly been on top form lately – “AI” anyone?

But this pleasantly surprised me. I was on the edge of my seat for most of it – that, and trying to hide behind Jeff. I would recommend going to see this film with someone to hide behind. The bit in the cellar… *shudder* Nor were the aliens too spindly. Ok, so their arms showed signs of conforming to Spielberg’s favorite Roswellian alien-form, but the heads were nice and beefy. Think “Close Encounters” crossed with “Independence Day” (says Jeff). And the ending, which I was dreading, wasn’t too overly sentimental. **1 SPOILER AT THE END OF THE POST BELOW THE TECHNORATI TAGS ** The last 30 seconds of voice over could have been cut / done differently, but 30 seconds out of a good two hours? Not bad at all.

Yes, there are plot holes you could lurch a Tripod through, and you can’t help thinking that they would have been better off just waiting it out in their basement, but I liked it. Three and a half penguins. If you take away no other gem of wisdom from this film, it is this:
If ever attacked by giant alien tripod thingies that come to Earth in bolts of lightning, just stay at home safe in your nice basement. Never mind if it has a bit of a damp problem. And if cornered by a creature that looks like the bastard love child of the aliens from “Close Encounters” and “Independence Day”, just sneeze on it. Don’t run. Running is bad. Running leads to all ends of trouble and having to batter Tim Robbins to death with a shovel. Trust me. Not worth it.

With that, I am off to watch something nice and fluffy, to try and take my mind off the dismembered body parts I just saw flying across a 70 ft screen.

** SPOILER **
The people who you are concerned might die, don’t die. This is Spielberg after all. He doesn’t do killing kids. He likes kids. Even the ones like Dakota Fanning who could scream for the Olympics.