September 2003 Archives
I used to perplex one of my old flatmates who, whenever I was reading a book, had a habit of asking "is it any good?" My reply, that vexed him so, was usually the same "I don't know, I haven't finished it yet." It wasn't purely out of malice on my part, since for me endings can make or break a book. There are books I've thoroughly enjoyed reading until practically the very last page at which point everything falls apart quite horribly.
My favourite example of this remains David Brin's Brightness Reef. It's not that it wasn't an entertaining book, merely that at the end it turned out to be first part in a trilogy. More acurately it was the first part of a second trilogy. And, unfortunately, the remaining books didn't quite live up to the promise of the first (and I still can't forgive Brin for taking up most of the third book with the tales of a talking monkey who was involved in the plot in only the most flimsy and tangential of ways. It was almost like really bad misdirection in a magic act: "Hey readers, here's a talking monkey. Pay attention to it whilst I destroy the galaxy in the background").
Anyway, the reason why this is weighing on my mind today, is because I've just finished reading a book I've been enjoying very much. And now that I've finished it I'm attempting to decide whether it was any good.
So is it any good?
Um... I don't know. It might be. It might even be superb (it was certainly beautifully written). But at this moment I'm not sure.
I'm going to go sleep on it. I'll try and do a full review (and I might even tell you what the book is) tomorrow.
Since I'm only anticipating spending a limited amount of time in London before heading on to pastures new (9 more months and counting), I've every intention of availing myself of the various cultural opportunities that the capital presents. Though I'm not overly fond of the place, I can't deny that there's an awful lot going on around here.
Like Rolf Harris at the Royal Albert Hall.
It wasn't a planned outing, but I discovered early today that tickets were on sale for an event this evening, celebrating Rolf's 50th year in television. How could I resist? (I actually put that question to my several of my co-workers and they managed to come up with a surprising variety of answers. But I digress...)
The audience, perhaps unsurprisingly given the nature of the event, was clearly incredibly fond of Rolf, and he performed with his inimitable brand of sprightly energy and enthusiasm, quite belying his 73 years. Though the evening wasn't perfect I'm definitely glad I went. Proceedings were marred primarily by the filming for television which meant that several segments had to be reshot causing the event to drag on a little longer than the audience might have preferred, and also by one rather loud mouthed heckler who just didn't know when to keep quiet, although Rolf managed to deal with him in a humorous enough fashion.
But heck, I got to hear Rolf Harris perform Two Little Boys in the Royal Albert Hall.
London does have it's moments. Not enough to keep my here, by any means, but enought to keep me amused. For a little bit.
Neil Gaiman is touring soon and will be giving a reading in London on the 14th of November, both from his latest book "The Wolves In The Wall" and past hits such as "Coraline". If you've ever read any of his books, it's an event that's well worth attending. If you've never read any of his books, then you have plenty of time to pick one (or two or more) up and read them (and the event will still be worth attending). Mr Gaiman is a fabulously inventive writer who is blessed with a warm and witty stage presence. He's also one of those rare mortals capable of competing with Jonathan on the amusing anecdote front.
The event will be compered by Jonathan Ross and tickets are available from Foyles.
Come along do. I could use the company.
I found this highly amusing, even as I found myself a little saddened by my reaction.
Why? Well, I think I've been subscribing the "Bush is an idiot" party line for a little too long. This is not to say that he hasn't made some decisions I've found to be questionable. He has - many times over. Or even to say that he's not a gibbering imbecile. He may well be. All I've come to realise is that I've been accepting other peoples opinions on the matter of George W. Bush's intellectual capacity without any real investigation on my part. It's easy to raise a smile at the all the anti-Bush rhetoric that's been floating around (since, let's face it, that's one great big steaming pile of rhetoric), but it's quite another to pass judgement after a detailed examination of the facts - something I've been lax in doing. I'll certainly try harder.
In future when I call Bush an idiot, I'm damn well going to mean it.
As Kevin reminded me yesterday, I have a copy of my old website lying around gathering dust on my hard drive (which is still ticking along fortunately with nary a recurring "gronk" to speak of). It had been a while past since I laid eyes on my handywork so I decided to dig it out and take a look at it.
It surprised me in at least one regard. Whilst I rightly expected some of the html and javascript (viewed with several years more experience) to be a little dodgy, I was nevertheless impressed with the design of it. Admittedly I'm hardly the most objective judge, but then I quite usually take a rather harsh view of my works. Like I said, this came as a pleasant surprise.
I'll also confess that there is some interesting content on it, mainly in the photos section. Primarily for that reason I decided to dust it off and upload it to this site. You can get to it here. Do bear in mind that I present it here as little more than a curiousity.
I should warn that it's not especially compatible with modern browsers (Mozilla doesn't fare well with it, and I imagine that Safari will have a similar problem) with the result that you may not be able to see anything at all. If you really want to view it, I could suggest digging up an old installation of Netscape 4 (or alternatively you could use IE, but you didn't hear that from me). I may get around to fixing some of the issues, since they're mostly quite trivial, but it's not too high on my list of priorities just now. However, if there's a clarion call to arms, I may get around to it sooner rather than later.
Come to think of it, I even have the preceeding website lying around... but that's best left alone for the moment I think.
You have to let the past go at some point after all.
This has been all over the web all day, so you've probably come across it already. The news gave me pause for a smile at least.
Still, I think my natural gullibility has been tainted just the faintest hint of cynicism over the years. Which is to to say that I'll believe it when I see it.
I've got to confess that I'm no engineering expert, particulary in the field of hard drives, but one thing I do know is that a hard disk emitting a "gronk" noise is a very bad sign indeed.
It seems to be behaving itself now, and that at least gave me time to do a quick round of backups, but I'm still ever so slightly worried. If you don't hear from me again soon well...
...I may be gone for some time
I've been bouncing around today, fuelled by what I can only guess to be nervous energy. The only thing I can think to attribute it to is that after the events of a couple of days back my body has decided to react by shifting into full "fight or flight" mode (actually mostly the latter, I suppose - I don't think my reaction in any circumstance has ever been to choose fight over flight). Still it's a weird sensation. It feels as though my body is preparing for something but hasn't bother to keep me up to date with what exactly.
It reminds me of an old Star Trek episode ("Genesis" season 7 - I really should have better things to do with my memory than remembering these things), in which the crew are infected with an extremely unlikely disease that causes every to begin to devolve down the evolutionary ladder. Picard beings turning into a Lemur and begins to look very nervous about... well, everything really.
That's how I feel right now.
Like I'm turning into a lemur.
I really needed a better analogy didn't I?
Whilst I don't quite share Jonathan's absolute passion for typography, I do try to take care to choose my fonts carefully and consequently I wholeheartedly agree with this campaign.
Who's there?The interrupting dyslexic cow.
The interrupting dyslex...
oom.
Well I laughed.
Well, quite frankly that was a bit crap.
Twice over the past week I've had people yell at me for little good reason. And how do I react to such injustice? Do I bristle with righteous indignation and defend my position? Do I take the moral high ground and simply ignore them, secure in and of myself. Or does my last shred of self confidence desert me as I turn back into into that quivering 11 year old who never quite worked out how to deal with authority?
I'll give you a clue: It's the last one.
I'm not going to go into details on the perceived trangressions because firstly I've no real desire to relive the events (though rest assured they were entirely too trivial to be worthy of any great degree of angst on part) and also because doubtless if I do I'll find myself defending my erstwhile opponents positions. It's what I do. I empathise with people even as they're yelling at me, and honestly I'm more than a little fed up with it. Sucks to be me, as the saying goes.
Quoth Eleanor Rooesevelt:
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
Damn it. When did I give my consent? At what age did I sign that release? Did someone come to me in my infant years with a contract whispering "Hey kid, sign this and you'll get a lollipop!"? Because I take it back. I'll take my consent back, thank you very much and put it where it will never be reached. There, now you want to yell at me? Well, tough - because at the end of the day, I'm right and you're wrong.
And this time I'll let you know it.
It rained this afternoon. For the first time in ages, it rained. Oh, to be certain, a few drops of water parted with cloud and sky several times over the summer months, but this was a proper deluge. The skies darkened, the winds howled, the heavens opened, and for a few minutes at least a solid wall of water descended on the world.
This has no relevance to anything beyond the simple fact that I like rain; walking in it, running through it, jumping in the puddles it creates, soaking the unwary. And then getting home and changing, sitting down with a good book, reading against the inclement backdrop. It's wonderfully comforting somehow.
Anyway, I ventured out into the heart of London tonight, through the rain, to catch up with an old friend who happened to be in town for the evening before departing the continent tomorrow (yes, another one, what's wrong with good old England, er Britain, er Scotland people?). Anyway, on my way into town I learned a valuable lesson. Those of you who have had cause to visit London in the past and travel on the tube will doubtless be aware of the monotonous voice that intones "Mind The Gap" everytime a train approaches a platform. Well, tonight I had an intimate encounter with the aforementioned gap as I went travelling on an unfamiliar tube line (the Waterloo and City line which amusingly consists of precisely two stops: Waterloo and the City). Here I discovered that trains on this line are situated slightly further from the platform than usual. It's an easy discovery to make from half way under a train. Gratifyingly a number of passers by seemed quite concerned by my sudden plummet, even after I clambered up and did my best to reassure them that I was still in once piece and completely unscathed.
It's not quite up there with slipping on a banana skin (yes, been there done that too), but at least I can now confirm that there is a gap and it does indeed bear minding.
It crossed my mind that in my last entry, and probably several other entries over the past few weeks I've basically been blogging about blogging. And whilst this might be fascinating for me (debatable), it's probably of very limited interest to those of you who are not me (and if you choose to press the point I'll be reluctantly forced to admit that people who are not me constitute the majority).
Anyway, I'll endeavour to restrict my meanderings to more relevent forms of whimsy in future.
Wait. I'm at it again aren't I? Darn.
Yes, another week, another new theme. This time the hopefully aptly named "Fluid". I've also moved the theme selector into a handy dandy drop down (New For Your Convenience!) that can be found in amongst the list at the side (you're all bright people - I trust you to find it).
As will likely be evident by now, I do love tinkering with graphics and design and I've every intention of carrying on creating new themes on a fairly regular basis (until I get bored of the idea at least). The original idea for the "Cardboard" theme actually originated a few years back when a friend mentioned that he was interested in starting a blog and asked if I could help him out with the design. Consequently I dragged him off to the nearest Waterstones and spend an hour or two flipping through design books looking for ideas that appealed to us both (or truth be told, to me - I can be quite dictatorial when the need arises). An early version of the cardboard theme was the result. In the end the blog never amounted to anything, but I kept the graphics around anyway and I finally got to use a modified version here.
It also occurs to me that I never did go into any details on the genesis of the "Autumn" theme, which I really should, lest I appear to take credit for other peoples work. Simply put I knew that I wanted to create a theme with the idea of autumn as a basis, so I began scouring googles image archives for pictures of leaves. And in doing so I came across a picture here. Scroll down a bit - I'm sure you'll recognise it when you see it. (The Mormon Chic site itself is worth a glance or two - it's certainly... different from the sites I normally frequent).
I'll probably invest in some design books soon - I find having a good source of reference materials to springboard from is invaluable. If anyone happens to have any good recommendations, by all means let me know.
Coming soon: Friendly Platonic Solids V3
A list was floating around various newspapers recently containing a list of the fifty things you supposedly should do before you die. Most of it is fairly predicatable, but that's not to say that I wouldn't quite happily participate in all the activities listed (again in several cases). Anyway, here's something to add to it.
Take a trip around Harrods. With a near-concert level (or better) pianist. And go to the piano department. Then engage the sales assistant in conversation:
"Excuse me, the sign says to ask for a demonstration." <points at £50,000 Bosendorfer>
"Certainly." <sales assistant proceeds to play a passable piece of Bach.>
"Amber?"
At this point I should probably introduce my friend, colleague and cohort, Amber. Whilst masquerading as a computer programmer during daylight hours, Amber is most often to be found during the evening practicing either at her piano or her piano teachers. Consequently (bearing in mind that I hold the same aptitude for music as does the average shellfish for unicycle riding - any judgement I pass on anyone's musical abilities should be considered in that context) she's immensely accomplished (and if my judgement in this matter is suspect allow me to assure you that the not-inconsiderable number of trophies Amber has won gives validity to my assesement). Diminutive in stature, Amber is none the less capable of playing with incredible energy, intensity and, when the need calls for it, volume...
...as she proceeded to demonstrate, much to the delight of the small crowd that rapidly formed.
I love it. As Warren Ellis once had it:
"These are the moments I live for. I put up with all the other crap just to get seconds like this. The moments when you know the world is a better place than advertised."
By the way, if anyone wants to do anything on that list, but is only lacking for company, let me know. Heck, if anybody wants to do anything on that list period let me know.
I file this entry under be careful what you wish for.
The flat now has a shiny new washing machine - Yay!
The washing machine is haunted - Boo!
Ok, to call it haunted may be putting things a little strongly, but the damnable device has a serious attitude problem. I tend to believe that life is governed by a series of simples rules. Chief amongst these is this basic tenet: when you have to fight to physically restrain a household appliance, something in your life is deeply wrong.
I returned home only a little a while ago, to find the flat empty and the washing machine making contented washing machine noises in the kitchen (I haven't yet ruled out the possibility that the diabolical contraption has eaten the other inhabitants of the flat). A few minutes later the washing machine started making rather less contented noises. Spin cycle, I thought. A few more moments and all hell broke loose. I ran through to the kitchen to find the the accursed thing literally bouncing across the kitchen. I did my best to hold it down whilst I could find the off switch (new washing machine - I haven't mastered the controls yet). In the end I had to sit on it to keep the darned thing still whilst I could figure out how to turn it off.
It's quiet now, but I fear it's only a matter of time before it strikes again.
Sorry, I just felt I should actually introduce myself after I discovered a couple of comments from... well that's just the point really - I don't know who they're from.
It's not that I don't welcome visitors (please, come in, bring your friends, make yourself comfortable), it's just that I didn't really expect any. After all, so far I've only told a handful of friends about this site and the task I've set myself is to attempt to keep them entertained and myself occupied. If I can manage that much then I'll consider the site a major success. Anyone else who wants to tag along for the ride is free to do so. That I may have a larger audience than I'd intended (or an audience at all, really), is ever-so-slightly flattering, albeit in an overly melodramatic Sally Fields "You like me? You really like me" sort of a way.
Anyway, I'm Mark. Who are you?
I've been thinking about my flat today. I blame Jonathan's recent purchase for bringing it to mind again, although truth be told it's been hovering around the edge of my thoughts for a little while - it was even the inspiration for the Autumn theme on this site. As well as trying to create a pretty looking site I was also trying out ideas for the colour scheme I've been thinking of for the flat. I've been mentally decorating it for months. I've already picked out the sofa, the bed, the flooring and, well everything really.
With all the thought I'm putting into it, you really have to ask why am I not living there? And if you won't then I will - why the heck am I not living there?
I love my little flat. I discovered the area for the first time when I was up in Edinburgh flat hunting and immediately fell for it - it's a beautiful part of Edinburgh, close to center but remarkably isolated at the same time. My flat came on the market two days later. Two days after that it came off the market because I bought it. Serendipity is a wondrous thing.
This was back in March. It's now September, and my flat is still up in Edinburgh. And I'm still down here in London, resolutely not living in it.
The easiest reason to cite for this is everyone's favourite root of all evil - money. As it turned out, buying the flat proved an even greater drain on my monies than I'd anticipated (it's an investment, it's an investment...) and my job down here is consistent and well enough paid (more so that any jobs I think I'll be like to find in Edinburgh, although time will tell there) to allow me to build up my savings again. After all, there's still a fair bit that I want to do to the flat (chief amongst them is a new fireplace and boiler), none of which are particularly cheap.
However, is that truly stopping me? It's possible, although I don't like to believe that money is such a driving force in my life (regardless of whether it is or isn't, I still don't like to believe it).
I think my favoured alternative is that I just don't see myself as being quite ready to settle down. Almost ready mind you (I did buy the flat after all).
But not quite.
Not that I expect this information to be of interest, let alone of any use to anyone, but I've tried to start a diary precisely three times in my life. I believe that I managed to maintain each of them for approximately three days before casting them aside. At least two of those attempts are now languishing in a dusty pile in a cupboard somewhere just outside Edinburgh. I'll need to hunt them down and burn them at some point, since I don't think I could face trying to read either of them ever again - my musings at the tender age of 15 years were every bit as dreadfully precocious as you might imagine.
Anyway, although this may seem like a tangent to nowhere, it came to mind when I realised that I've now been maintaining this blog for a whole ten days, three times as long as I've ever maintained any form of diary before (come on people, where are the cards and presents? The adulation? The revelry in the streets? I'm talking about a whole 10, one zero, t-e-n, 1010 days!), and much to my surprise, not only am I still here, but I'm still enjoying myself.
I think I'm suprised at just how much of a difference having a creative outlet would make. It's early days admittedly but I'm still quite excited by the whole process - not only writing, but the design as well, and even doing some tinkering under the hood (which surprises me, since I would have thought I'd have enough of that at work).
Still I shouldn't be too excited - it's only been 10 days after all. But that I've managed to jot something down each day without having to stare at the screen until my forehead bleeds gives me some small cheer.
Tomorrow is another day, though...
(I wasn't kidding about the cards and adulation by the way)
I had my first computer when I was about eight (a Commodore 64) and later spent many months saving my pocket money so I could afford my next (a Commodore Amiga). I was so deeply in love with technology and it's enormous potential that I went on to study computer science at university (badly as it happened, but I'm still hoping to make amends). I've now spent several years working in the technology arena and my friends are amongst the most techno-literate people I've had the good fortune to encounter. I own a not inconsideral array of gadgets and still have a deep interest in new tech.
So why am I afraid of falling behind on the technology curve?
One thing I've noticed in my daily computing habits is that I've become much more (please forgive the dilbertesque turn of phrase) results oriented, in that I'm actually using my computer more as a tool than a toy. Whereas I would once have studied intimately the ins and outs of whatever system I was using, optimised it, tinkered with it and installed all manner of whizzy accessories on it, these days such things don't hold quite the same appeal as they once did. That's not to say that they don't appeal at all, but rather that the effort/reward ratio doesn't seem to stack up as it once did.
I worry slightly that this may be a trend which ends with me many years from now trying to program my 3-D holographic digital image recorder whilst muttering curses against the new-fangled technology, all the while remembering those halcyon days of my youth through rose tinted memories when everything was simpler and better.
Is this a natural progression that other people have gone through? Or is it just me?
I cmae acosrs tihs link wlhsit dniog a bit of surfnig. It's not a teorhy Iv'e herad bfroee, but it deos mkae a lot of ssene (and it cnletairy exnpilas why poorf rnieadg can be sinuirrlsgpy dicuffilt).
Not everyone who reads this site will have the slightest interesting in comics. Some of you may even be actively adverse to them. However, this is my site so I get to recommend what I want to and in this case it's a comic: Fables.
Fables is a superbly crafted story whose basic backstory is that many centuries ago a war was fought against an unnamed adversary who ultimately triumphed with the result that many storybook characters were exiled from their homes and ended up living in modern day New York.
I've been trying to think of a way to plug this for a little while (things on this site will be plugged on basis that if I like something and I want to see more things like it, the best way to go about it is to get lots of people (i.e you) to consume the thing I like), but then I came across this review of the latest issue courtesy of Paul O'Brien which sums it all up ever so well:
FABLES #17 - Fans of the extended fight scene won't want to miss this issue, as it includes seven straight pages of Snow White versus Goldilocks - to the death! With a machete! Come on, that's got to be worth your $2.50. Snow White, Goldilocks, machete. Where else are you going to get that kind of action? Meanwhile, Prince Charming disposes of a dead body, by wandering around carrying it over his shoulder and announcing loudly "I'm just going to dispose of this dead body." What a great issue.
There, how can you fail to be intrigued?
Now go. Consume.
I happened past David Blaine today. Whilst I didn't make the journey especially (I was a little more interested in the Thames Festival that was going on in the near vicinity), I was still somewhat curious to see exactly what was going on.
All told it was quite a strange spectacle and one far more popular than I'd anticipated (see the amazing man in a box!). Not only was the area around and under the box quite densely populated with tourist hoards, but the crowd had spread along Tower Bridge as well as people tried to get a better look. Also a small tourist industry seemed to have formed around the box with numerous ice cream vans and food vendors catering to the crowd, including at least one purveyor of spectacularly unpleasant smelling hot dogs (I pity Blaine for that, if nothing else).
Blaine himself, it has to be said, despite an occassional wave towards the crowd had the look of a man suffering from profound boredom.
As did some of the crowd themselves.
Still for the most part the audience was in fair fettle, with the occassional bout of spirited heckling serving to liven matters up a little. However, what seemed clear from overhearing a few conversations was that many of the milling throng didn't seem to understand why they were there. They'd heard there was a man in a box and they'd come to see the man in the box and... now what? There was a general air of unfulfilled expectancy, but even that didn't stop several people from saying that they'd come back next week (although I got the feeling this involved a touch of schadenfreude and that they were hoping to chart Blaines gradual disintegration).
I suppose whatever you think of Blaines stunt (I personally think it would have been far more interesting if he'd decided to starve himself for only 40 days, say during Easter) he still seems to be undeniably popular. Whether that lasts is another question altogether, since if he carries on as he has been, he's in serious danger of imploding in his own pretentiousness.
Part of me suspects that the phemonenal rise of the web has much more to do with the power of sheer nostalgia than Tim Berners-Lee would ever care to admit. After all, where else could we turn to find answers to questions such as "What happened at the end of that old Dungeons and Dragons cartoon? Did those kids ever get home or what?"
You can read the answer for yourself here.
Well, here's my first attempt at dynamically changing the stylesheet. I'll find a place for it to live on the main page soon, but in the meantime, you can flip between them to your hearts content by clicking on the following
Mac users be warned - I haven't had the chance to test it out yet, but I believe it should work. Drop me a line if it causes your Mac to attempt to overthrow the goverment of a small South American country whilst reciting "Mary Had A Little Lamb". Backwards. (Not because I'll try to fix it, merely because it would be an impressive sight to behold).
Things have been in a bit of a state of flux since the move a few weeks back which has given me pause to reflect on some of the things we take for granted in our daily existance.
Like a washing machine.
Or a kitchen on the inside of the house.
Actually the latter was quite fun. I came home one evening to find that the bulk of the kitchen (units, shelves, fridge and freezer) had been set up on the small deck just outside the kitchen to allow new flooring to be laid. Given that the deck overlooks both a garden of some prettiness and the river Thames, it was a remarkably pleasant vista over which to eat breakfast the following morning. As far as inconveniences go, this is one I'd highly recommend to anyone (in summertime at least. Attempting the same in the depth of midwinter may not hold the same sort of appeal).
Unlike the absense of a washing machine, which has definitely led to a minor case of appliance withdrawal fatigue on my part. I can't help but feel that I shouldn't notice it's disappearance as much as I have done. Perhaps I just need to get away from civilisation a bit more. I've been camping a few times over the past few years, but always in company supportive enough to make up for my campground deficiencies and always safe in the knowledge that I'd eventually return to my creature comforts. Somehow I don't think I'd cope terribly well without those, although it could be interesting to try. It might even <adopts Calvins Dads voice and posture> build character.
Oh, sod character. I want my washing machine. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to crawl under my blissfully warm duvet and veg out in front of the tv (the last night of the proms is on. I haven't yet figured out the significance of the inflatable shark left for the conductor on his podium, but he seemed to take it in good spirits).
Good night.
Well, you may have noticed my attempt to tart things up a little with a new theme.
Firstly I should confess that I don't think it's been entirely successfull, but it was a style that I wanted to experiment with, since I'm particularly fond of the richness and warmth of the colours and tones. I'll probably work on it some more soon.
In case you're lamenting the loss of the last theme, fear not gentle reader (and yes, I have been waiting to write "fear not gentle reader" for quite some time), it hasn't been discarded. The good news is (for me at least, I'm not certain I expect anyone else to care to be honest) is that it's relatively easy for me to switch themes, since all the changes are localised in the stylesheet. Better still I plan on implement a theme switching system to allow you to choose which ever scheme you prefer (everybody say "oooh!").
I expect it to be ready Real Soon Now.
(And yes, I still need to apply the styles to the archives and comment boxes. Sheesh, give me a chance already!)
Recently I've started to notice the odd glimmer of russet and gold lurking amongst the tree branches on the walk to work. I've tried ignoring them, but there just seem to be more of the darned things every day. And with the nights drawing in and temperatures beginning to approach more comfortable levels I suppose I'm going to have to face the fact that Autumn is here.
I still have somewhat mixed feelings about Autumn. Over the years I've had passing fancies for all the seasons: A Summer affair lasted throughout my childhood; a dalliance with Winter saw me through my teens; Autumn tore my heart asunder in my twenties; and most recently I've been courting sweet gentle Spring. Though I've managed to remain on speaking terms with Winter and retain cordial affection for Summer, I don't think I've been entirely comfortable with Autumn since our parting.
Perhaps it's her unpredictability and odd temperament, sequeing so easily from blissful calm one moment to tempestous rage the next. Or her phoenix like beauty, born anew each year in a verdant flurry, only to burn fiery red until eventually naught remains but the charred black skeletons of the trees.
Perhaps. Perhaps this year will be different and we'll make amends. If not, then, well, Winter will be here soon enough and then only a few more months until Spring returns.
Ah Spring...
I received my first ever prank phone call last night. The conversation, brief as it was and filtered through the mysterious whorls of my memory, went something like this:
"Hello?"
"You ordered pizza?"
"Um, no, I think you have the wrong..."
"You ordered pizza!"
"No, really, you must have..."
"This is Osama Bin Laden, you pay for pizza or we throw bomb through your window"
"Uh... bye!"
At least I assumed it was a prank call, given that no bomb came flying through my window after I hung up. I also believe that Osama Bin Ladan speaks better English, not to mention that that he probably has better things to do with his time than to persecute me over the non-payment of a pizza.
Or worse things depending on how you look at it...
There was a rather frustrating documentary on tv last night on the subject of parkour or free running. There didn't seem to be anything inherently wrong with the concept, which was namely to bring some of best french practitioners to London and set them loose on some of the capitals best known momuments, but somehow the execution went badly wrong.
What was obvious from the outset, with the footage of the Parkouristes in their hometown that this was a fascinating subject with the potential to make for an incredibly dynamic film. However, as soon as things moved to London things became rather staid rather quickly. For instance, much in the film was made of the 14 landmarks themselves and the struggle to obtain permission to film on them, with the Royal Albert Hall featuring prominently. However, in the end the footage from the RAH consisted of someone jogging around the roof of the hall and precious little else. It certainly failed to live up to the grandeur of the building itself, not to mention the hype that was built up earlier in the programme.
Even worse though, was the scene on the Millennium Bridge, again featured as one of the landmarks on which our intrepid group would practice their unique set of skills. Now given that the bridge has a fascinating skeletal structure it's easy to imagine that it contains the potential for some quite startling feats of derring do. And so the scene begins with the trio running across the bridge... and ends. And that was it. They ran across the bridge. Surely this is a text book example of how to suck the life from what should have proved a captivating subject.
With the remaining footage it seemed that the producers were intent on showcasing the scale of what was happening, by focusing on the grand jumps (with a pounding soundtrack and overly edited mtv style footage), when it was the small displays of skill that contained the real wit and charm - watching them bouncing around inside the Globe theatre for instance, or from concrete stair case to concrete stair case on the National Theatre.
Still I don't write it off as a complete loss, since it did contain some wonderful visuals and incredible displays of skill that almost managed to surmount the problems with film.
It should have been better though.
Now, where do I sign up?
All good things come to and end I suppose.
I was quite proud of my job title at work. After being there for almost three years and ending up as the longest serving developer I could proudly proclaim that my job title was still officially "Junior Html Programmer". I was immensely fond of that title, especially in that it bore not the slightest relation to what I actually spent my days doing and hadn't done so for years.
Alas that came to an end today when a small departmental cabinet reshuffle resulted in several "Junior" titles being forcibly stripped away, mine amongst them. I protested but to no avail (and my suggestion that my new title be "Programmer Without Portfolio" didn't seem to be taken seriously)
I'm now a senior something-or-other. The worst part of it is that although I've never been bothered by job titles before (especially when the change of title doesn't come with any sort of financial renumeration), I was still secretly pleased by the paper promotion.
I feel like I sold out when I wasn't looking.
Oh well, tomorrow I'll try abusing my new found power and see if that cheers me up any. I can feel my hair getting pointier by the minute...
It occurs to me that I should proffer gratitude towards Mssr Jonathan Sanderson for very kindly providing the hosting services on which this blog is now running, as well as the general impetus to get it off the ground to begin with (I still can't shake the feeling that I've somehow been tricked into this, but since I'm enjoying myself I won't raise any complaint).
An all round good egg, Jonathan was blessed from an early age with the ability to stop a charging elephant in it's tracks with nothing more than an entertaining anecdote and a wry grin. He can generally be relied upon to supply an amusing account to cover any occassion, and is to date the only person I know who has ever attempted to rehydrate wind dried octopus. He's really terribly bright and spends much of his time finding exciting ways to corrupt young minds with interesting notions about science.
He'll try to tell you his job isn't really that interesting.
Don't believe him.
So what is it?
Well, it's blog, isn't it?
So what is it?
Ok, ok, I was being facetious. It's a web log. It's sort of like an online diary - somewhere where I can put down my thoughts and write, you know, stuff.
So what is it?
Hmm, right, perhaps the question you should be asking is: So why is it? And the answer to that isn't immediately clear to me either. Truthfully I'm not going to try and justify it too hard. I have a special fondess for things that manage to exist without (or even against) just reason - they appeal to my finely honed sense of whimsy.
However, I think that part of it is to indulge what I'll laughingly call my sense of creativity. After all, I like to think of myself as a creative person, but so far I've left scant little evidence of that in my wake. Hopefully this will change that. Or just give people a reason to point and laugh at me in the street. One or the other.
Then there's the simple fact that I like the idea of shouting into the wind.
Perhaps someone will hear.
Perhaps not.
But it's the doing that's important.
Isn't it?
So what is it?
Now look here Paxman, that's quite enough of that...
I finally made it back to the proms today. I've only been there once this season so far - disappointingly most of the performances I've been interested in were sold out months in advance (oh, and can I just take this opportunity to wholeheartedly condemn the proms online booking mechanism which doesn't tell you which performances have been sold out, but instead forces you to go through each different price bracket one by one until you discover that nothing is available. Sigh.). Still today's perfomance more than made up for it.
The Vienna Philharmonic was being conducted by Bobby McFerrin (yes, he of "Don't Worry, Be Happy" fame), who also participated as a performer. And it was an absolute treat. In a standout performance all round there were two absolute highlights: The first was McFerrin's acappella performance. It was the first time I've seen anyone vocally accompany themselves whilst singing - it was an impressive display of circular breathing and vocal dexterity. He then managed to persuade the audience to accompany him much to their/my delight. And finally he accompanied the audience. Yes you read that last bit right. He managed to persuade the crowd, not only to sing Ave Maria, but to sing it hauntingly well - and this was with the Royal Albert Hall filled to near it's 5000 person capacity. It was an extraordinary moment.
The second highlight was the first encore. McFerrin conducted the orchestra performing The William Tell Overture. A cappella. The orchestra appeared to be enjoying themselves tremendously and to say the crowd adored it would be an understatement. Several minutes of standing ovation managed to persuade McFerrin to return for a solo encore.
Wonderful, wonderful stuff.
Well, I've started to settle into my new surrounds a little now. It still seems a bit strange and unfamiliar - but though I can't claim to be too comfortable just yet, it's definitely beginning to feel more like home.
I spent a goodly portion of the day trying to spruce things up a little, but as I've just moved in real life I think I still have cardboard boxes on the brain. Well, that is to say that the theme was intended to be "Cardboard" but in the end I think it's turned out to be closer to "MDF". Still it's early days yet. I'll try to tidy things up a little tomorrow. I think a dash more white and some rounded corners will work wonders.
Erm, quite.
<Mark looks arounds at his new home.>
I think I can get used to it here. The decor's simple enough to appeal to the minimalist tendancies I seem to have developed of late, although the white's a little bit clinical - nothing a small splash of colour won't liven up. At least it's considerably more pleasant than the hideous wallpaper in the room I've just moved into.
And it's roomy around here too. I mean look at all this empty space.
<Mark watches a small tumbleweed drift gently into the distance, borne upon a breeze that whistles sofly around the cavernous space>
All of a sudden I feel distinctly agoraphobic
Testing, testing, oh how we love testing. It's marvellous, innit?
Er... you can delete this, Mark, by all means.
