An interesting thought has occured to me whilst considering the implication of a documentary that I'm watching on the rise of the internet:
Relying on Wikipedia for your information is like relying on the newspaper "The Sun" for your knowledge of current events in the world. Just bare that in mind next time you look something up on Wikipedia.
Saturday 30 January 2010
Thursday 28 January 2010
Jenny's grand unified theory of cash.
I have a grand unified theory on relative poverty. I posted about it in 2005, and I'm going to post it again, though I've edited it a little. Keep in mind that I penned this piece five years ago, though the core content remains relevent:
Jenny's Grand unified theory of cash.
Everybody is poor. This is regardless of how much they earn. A sweeping statement and generalisation, yes. I can already hear the sounds of pencils being sharpened. And we're not talking about them getting used for writing a hot reply. No. These pencils are going to be shoved where the sun doesn't shine.
But let me stop you a moment, and assure you that I do think about what I write. Continue through what I have to say, dear reader, and post your comments at the bottom. Indulge me - it may be worth the time.
When I was a student, I just managed. I was the lucky last year that got a grant. Not that it amounted to much. But it was the year before tuition fees and that was what mattered. But there were so many other expenses. I did not leadd a decedent lifestyle, yet I was constantly hard up and dredging the limits of the overdraft. All my friends were too. That was the student way of life. As I got older and wiser and graduated with homours, I set out into the scary wider world, and began to earn money - and here is the important thing. The moment I started to have more money than I had had before, was the moment that certain things appeared to no longer be luxuries, but be necessities. Nothing had changed, except my perception of materialistic objects in light of money. So a take-away that had been a once a month treat became expected to be a once a week treat. Buying new clothes became a more regular occurance, and I expected to be able to buy more music albums on the trips to the record shops. I started to travel the country more, keeping up with friends. I felt obliged to drink nicer drinks in pubs and clubs over and above the pound-a-pint Fosters catpiss. I ate better food - Heinz beans instead of 3p per tin Aldi bullets in tomato sauce. And to this end my tastes became moulded to match my income means. As my income grew, so the transition of luxuries to necessities marches on.
It is a growth in spending that passes almost unnoticeable at the time. You do not perceive that the material artifacts that you now buy are somehow better, but merely a similar standard because you become accustomed to them. In the same way that whilst a 21st century individual might certianly baulk at the concept of using an outside crapper as demeaning and bad, a Victorian would not think so because they had never experienced anything better. If that Victorian were to be brought to the 21st century with our convenience shopping, and indoor bathrooms and central heating and quilted toilet paper, they would become accustomed to it over time and no longer treat it as the luxury they would have initially seen it is. Then transplant them back to the 19th Century, and they would view their original conditions as intolerable because their expectations have shifted.
This brings us back to the concept of Jenny's unified theory of money. I will always spend to the limit of my means. Everybody does, bar the few exceptions of misers and silly rich. But even being silly rich does not completely remove a person from the vicious transgretion of luxuries to necessities. Take Michael Jackson as one such example. He earned a fortune from royalties every year alone. We are talking tens of millions, if not billions over his entire career. Yet he was still on the verge of bankruptcy. Why? Because his lifestyle had expanded to transgress a great many luxuries into necessities. In short - he perceived that he could not do without so much that he was buying that you or I would see as gross indulgement.
So when I find that something comes up that demands an unexpected chunk of cash, like a new exhaust on my car, or contents insurance, or I wear out a pair of shoes and must replace them I find myself feeling poor. This is because I have expanded my spending and am blinded to what I can economise on to save the money. So I am squeezed and yet some-one poorer would rightly say "hold on? Why are you buying Heinz baked beans when you are alledgedly poor? What is wrong with Aldi?" Well, because I view Heinz beans as a necessity now instead of a luxury. It is perception. I don't need Heinz beans to live. I will not die of malnutrician if I change to Aldi beans. And the same holds true to so many things.
In recognising this phenominum, I can begin to do something about it. At various times in my life my income has changed dramatically as a result of changes in my work and house moves etc. I had to endevour to cut back, to not fritter, and to take the long hard road to converting necessities back into luxuries. It can be done, but the road is hard.
Try it yourself. Compare what you buy to that which some-one less well off than you buys. Why are you spending what you do on the stuff you get? Ask yourself that question, and you will find the answer is simply that you view too many luxuries as a necessity. Free your mind, and you will see that these are pure material objects; nothing more.
Economies extend to more than just food. I now walk everywhere I can where once I might have driven my car. I am in much better health as a result than ever before, and have lost weight. I also don't have to spend money on petrol, and the other annoying overheads that cars incur. My computers are composed of a great many recycled bits. Raided from a skip in Hartlepool, and bins in Durham and other people's cast-oofs I have three computers for the price of one. And they all work well.
Jenny's Grand unified theory of cash.
Everybody is poor. This is regardless of how much they earn. A sweeping statement and generalisation, yes. I can already hear the sounds of pencils being sharpened. And we're not talking about them getting used for writing a hot reply. No. These pencils are going to be shoved where the sun doesn't shine.
But let me stop you a moment, and assure you that I do think about what I write. Continue through what I have to say, dear reader, and post your comments at the bottom. Indulge me - it may be worth the time.
When I was a student, I just managed. I was the lucky last year that got a grant. Not that it amounted to much. But it was the year before tuition fees and that was what mattered. But there were so many other expenses. I did not leadd a decedent lifestyle, yet I was constantly hard up and dredging the limits of the overdraft. All my friends were too. That was the student way of life. As I got older and wiser and graduated with homours, I set out into the scary wider world, and began to earn money - and here is the important thing. The moment I started to have more money than I had had before, was the moment that certain things appeared to no longer be luxuries, but be necessities. Nothing had changed, except my perception of materialistic objects in light of money. So a take-away that had been a once a month treat became expected to be a once a week treat. Buying new clothes became a more regular occurance, and I expected to be able to buy more music albums on the trips to the record shops. I started to travel the country more, keeping up with friends. I felt obliged to drink nicer drinks in pubs and clubs over and above the pound-a-pint Fosters catpiss. I ate better food - Heinz beans instead of 3p per tin Aldi bullets in tomato sauce. And to this end my tastes became moulded to match my income means. As my income grew, so the transition of luxuries to necessities marches on.
It is a growth in spending that passes almost unnoticeable at the time. You do not perceive that the material artifacts that you now buy are somehow better, but merely a similar standard because you become accustomed to them. In the same way that whilst a 21st century individual might certianly baulk at the concept of using an outside crapper as demeaning and bad, a Victorian would not think so because they had never experienced anything better. If that Victorian were to be brought to the 21st century with our convenience shopping, and indoor bathrooms and central heating and quilted toilet paper, they would become accustomed to it over time and no longer treat it as the luxury they would have initially seen it is. Then transplant them back to the 19th Century, and they would view their original conditions as intolerable because their expectations have shifted.
This brings us back to the concept of Jenny's unified theory of money. I will always spend to the limit of my means. Everybody does, bar the few exceptions of misers and silly rich. But even being silly rich does not completely remove a person from the vicious transgretion of luxuries to necessities. Take Michael Jackson as one such example. He earned a fortune from royalties every year alone. We are talking tens of millions, if not billions over his entire career. Yet he was still on the verge of bankruptcy. Why? Because his lifestyle had expanded to transgress a great many luxuries into necessities. In short - he perceived that he could not do without so much that he was buying that you or I would see as gross indulgement.
So when I find that something comes up that demands an unexpected chunk of cash, like a new exhaust on my car, or contents insurance, or I wear out a pair of shoes and must replace them I find myself feeling poor. This is because I have expanded my spending and am blinded to what I can economise on to save the money. So I am squeezed and yet some-one poorer would rightly say "hold on? Why are you buying Heinz baked beans when you are alledgedly poor? What is wrong with Aldi?" Well, because I view Heinz beans as a necessity now instead of a luxury. It is perception. I don't need Heinz beans to live. I will not die of malnutrician if I change to Aldi beans. And the same holds true to so many things.
In recognising this phenominum, I can begin to do something about it. At various times in my life my income has changed dramatically as a result of changes in my work and house moves etc. I had to endevour to cut back, to not fritter, and to take the long hard road to converting necessities back into luxuries. It can be done, but the road is hard.
Try it yourself. Compare what you buy to that which some-one less well off than you buys. Why are you spending what you do on the stuff you get? Ask yourself that question, and you will find the answer is simply that you view too many luxuries as a necessity. Free your mind, and you will see that these are pure material objects; nothing more.
Economies extend to more than just food. I now walk everywhere I can where once I might have driven my car. I am in much better health as a result than ever before, and have lost weight. I also don't have to spend money on petrol, and the other annoying overheads that cars incur. My computers are composed of a great many recycled bits. Raided from a skip in Hartlepool, and bins in Durham and other people's cast-oofs I have three computers for the price of one. And they all work well.
A brief word from our other sponsors.
The webcomics that I help to script along with Zoë Robinson are going from strength to strength. Currently they are both running the same crossover story, but shortly that will come to an end and both will go back to their seperate styles. Thanks to the work that Zoë has been undertaking within the comic communities, it seems that the comics have never been so popular. The proof is in the results, and the ad revenue is certainly showing that things are picking up.
I can heartily recomend you go take a look (not least because I help to script them). They are a welcome break for me from doing my usual tolling at the keyboard writing sci-fi, horror and fantasy.
They can be found at the links below:
http://www.alloverthehouse.net/
http://www.nobmouse.net/
I can heartily recomend you go take a look (not least because I help to script them). They are a welcome break for me from doing my usual tolling at the keyboard writing sci-fi, horror and fantasy.
They can be found at the links below:
http://www.alloverthehouse.net/
http://www.nobmouse.net/
Wednesday 27 January 2010
Sequential writing.
I've finally made myself sit down in front of the computer and start to write the sequal to 'Bringing home the stars'. I figure that when that goes to print, the publishers might start asking awkward questions like "How soon can you deliver a sequel?". So I thought I'd keep one step ahead of the game, and get to work on it.
I've had a few rough ideas for a second instalment, and I've talked over one in particular with Zoë. I always envisioned the book as being more of a sc-fi/horror epic on the big screen, and to that end I've decided it must firstly steer clear of being a rehash of the first book, but at the same time telling something new and different utilising at least the main charector of the first - sequals are generally crap without at least some charector continuity.
I haven't got much down. But starting is often the hardest thing. Once you get a few pages in and the ideas start unfolding, you wouldn't believe how much easier writing gets. But until then, a blank screen and only the vaguest of ideas in your head can be quite off putting. Usually the temptation is to 'put it off until tomorrow' Then tomorrow never comes. Well, today is tomorrow and I've got 350 words down crisp and clear on the page. It's not much, but it is a start and that's what counts. Hopefully now I'll be able to focus all the ideas together and produce a story that is at the very least as good as the first. Fingers crossed, and all that.
I've had a few rough ideas for a second instalment, and I've talked over one in particular with Zoë. I always envisioned the book as being more of a sc-fi/horror epic on the big screen, and to that end I've decided it must firstly steer clear of being a rehash of the first book, but at the same time telling something new and different utilising at least the main charector of the first - sequals are generally crap without at least some charector continuity.
I haven't got much down. But starting is often the hardest thing. Once you get a few pages in and the ideas start unfolding, you wouldn't believe how much easier writing gets. But until then, a blank screen and only the vaguest of ideas in your head can be quite off putting. Usually the temptation is to 'put it off until tomorrow' Then tomorrow never comes. Well, today is tomorrow and I've got 350 words down crisp and clear on the page. It's not much, but it is a start and that's what counts. Hopefully now I'll be able to focus all the ideas together and produce a story that is at the very least as good as the first. Fingers crossed, and all that.
Tuesday 26 January 2010
Who are you?
Ebay used to be a great place. I used it like many other people to buy hard to get items, as well as to buy all manner of things at the sort of prices that car boot sales and charity shops offered. Charity shops inevitably have suffered, with a supply of stock seeming to have been strangled. I assume all the missing stuff goes on Ebay now? But lately Ebay has become a bit of a joke. No longer does stuff dsell at a reasonable price all too often things are bid up to an incredible level, more often than not for many items to a level greater than many established mail order companies (or indeed high street shops) will sell the item for new right now this moment! There seems to be a tribe of manic bidders bidding things to an extreme level. Who the hell are these people? Why can't I find them in the real world and encourage them to waste their money in my direction?
They say a fool and their money are eaily parted, begging the question how they got together in the first place.
They say a fool and their money are eaily parted, begging the question how they got together in the first place.
Spinning the tunes.
It's no secret that music played a major part of my teenage years and into my early twenties. It still has a big influence (I present a Saturday morning music based radio show) but it has faltered over the years. I've discussed before about the way my music tastes have appeared to change over time and the reasons I think why, so I won't repeat them (look them up if you want to know or have forgotten). So tonight I'm instead revisiting three LPs that meant a lot to me in the past. I wanted some "bangin' choons, man" so I thought I'd "hang wi' the kids" and "spin some hip plastic" (and date myself by my out-of-date fogey trying to be funky and failing lingo).
I chose Queen live Killers for the first to hit the platter. This album shows how much Queen were the masters of live performance, just as much as they were masters of the studio. It is an amazing album, and they know how to perform. How I wish I could have seen the original Queen perform on stage live just once. Sadly that can never be. I heartily recomend the version of "Now I'm here" - absolutely outstanding with the way Freddie brings the audiance into the song, playing musical games with the crowd.
Number two is Rhythm and Stealth by Leftfield. Proper dance and chillout music with a hard and earnest edge. I don't know why I like Leftfield, but I do. It is intricate and has a massive energy. "Phat planet" deserves a mention for the award winning epic Guiness adverts that it was the soundtrack to. Also "Afrika shox". Actually, it's all good.
Last up is Mechanical Animals by Marilyn Mansun. This is such a totally accessible album, and came as quite a change from an artist who until this point had been more miss than hit. For this album, every track just worked There is not a filler track on this album. Sadly Marilyn Mansun never really returned to this form. An unusual one on LP, I have the SVLP double version on heavy virgin vinyl pressing and the sound quality makes CDs sound like the cheap shit that they are. Remember kids - a cheap and an expensive CD player sound much the same. A cheap and expensive turntable are miles apart. You may eroneously think that vinyl sounds crackly and tinny, and you would be way off the mark. On an Ortofon Nightclub-E diamond tipped needle/cartridge coupled to an S-shaped tone arm with cushioned anti-skate and free floating bearings and a magnetic drive heavy cast platter turntable, coupled to a seriously audiophile preamp, you would instantly ditch your CDs and start buying vinyl. Even for albums you already own. I know people who did. I also know people who made an exception to their classical music album collection to include Mechanical Animals. It just is that accessible.
I chose Queen live Killers for the first to hit the platter. This album shows how much Queen were the masters of live performance, just as much as they were masters of the studio. It is an amazing album, and they know how to perform. How I wish I could have seen the original Queen perform on stage live just once. Sadly that can never be. I heartily recomend the version of "Now I'm here" - absolutely outstanding with the way Freddie brings the audiance into the song, playing musical games with the crowd.
Number two is Rhythm and Stealth by Leftfield. Proper dance and chillout music with a hard and earnest edge. I don't know why I like Leftfield, but I do. It is intricate and has a massive energy. "Phat planet" deserves a mention for the award winning epic Guiness adverts that it was the soundtrack to. Also "Afrika shox". Actually, it's all good.
Last up is Mechanical Animals by Marilyn Mansun. This is such a totally accessible album, and came as quite a change from an artist who until this point had been more miss than hit. For this album, every track just worked There is not a filler track on this album. Sadly Marilyn Mansun never really returned to this form. An unusual one on LP, I have the SVLP double version on heavy virgin vinyl pressing and the sound quality makes CDs sound like the cheap shit that they are. Remember kids - a cheap and an expensive CD player sound much the same. A cheap and expensive turntable are miles apart. You may eroneously think that vinyl sounds crackly and tinny, and you would be way off the mark. On an Ortofon Nightclub-E diamond tipped needle/cartridge coupled to an S-shaped tone arm with cushioned anti-skate and free floating bearings and a magnetic drive heavy cast platter turntable, coupled to a seriously audiophile preamp, you would instantly ditch your CDs and start buying vinyl. Even for albums you already own. I know people who did. I also know people who made an exception to their classical music album collection to include Mechanical Animals. It just is that accessible.
Fed up with the contempt.
Women's rights have come a long way from the dark old days in this country. Women fought hard for rights that many men at the same time just took for granted. People like Edith New and Emily Wilding Davidson gave up a lot in their struggles for equal suffrage (Emily Wilding Davidson gave with her life - caught on newsreel) and even then it took many more years pefore equal suffrage, equal pay and equality within the public's eye was given. But it came, and that set Britain and some other Western nations apart from others. That's one of the things that truly put the great in Great Britain.
But there is something that has been bothering me, and a lot of other people in western countries in particular. That is the veil - the full face covering worn by some Muslim women. Call it what you will, but I prefer to call it the symbol of the treatment of women as second class citizens rearing its ugly heads again. I find it offensive, because of the feeble arguments used to justify it and because of what it really symbolises - the second class nature of women to some people.
Some argued that it was an expression of religion. Now, I make no qualms about not being religious. Believe in whatever imaginary sky bully or bullies that you like - but don't try and force those beliefs on me. The veil is not in the Koran - I've looked. It appears to have its origins elsewhere. So it cannot be justified in religion. And anyway, I do not think religion should ever be an excuse for an opt out for common decency and abiding with the laws of the land and respect for our neighbours (don't get me started about the bigots in the House of Lords trying to perpetuate discrimination against LGBT people). It appears to come from a Nomadic origin where women were property, and the veil was an extension of this, allowing a man to hide his 'property' and keep it all for himself. In a civilised country, this is totally indefensible.
A person with respect for those around them would not walk about in a balaclava, or a motorcycle helmet when without the accompanying motorcycle. It is rude, and signifies that a person has something to hide - there becomes an air of dishonesty about them, and in turn that can be interpreted as the potential for malintent. If I walk down the street in a balaclava, or go into a bank I would likely be arrested. To act in such a way shows utter contempt for the society around us. In the same way the full veil is showing contempt for the people around. Why do we tolerate it? At last France has spoken out and banned this offensive symbol of public oppression of women.
It is long overdue for being banned in public here too. I get fed up of the cries of "racist" whenever such things surface in public. It is not racist, and the people who think they score brownie points for denouncing others at the drop of a hat are idiots deserving only of contempt. Look the word up in the dictionary - it is an unjustified bias. The issue of the veil is fully justified as an issue to be discussed.
Not all Muslim women wear it. Indeed, it is a minority who are highly visible only because of the very visible and offensive nature of this garment worn in public. Most Muslim people are the same as anyone else. Many Muslims also find the veil offensive for the same reasons that people like me do. The sooner this is consigned to the same cupboard that balaclavas got tossed into, the better.
Equal rights for women were hard fought. We should not be letting them slide away again because we are frightened of being wrongly branded for daring to say the truth.
But there is something that has been bothering me, and a lot of other people in western countries in particular. That is the veil - the full face covering worn by some Muslim women. Call it what you will, but I prefer to call it the symbol of the treatment of women as second class citizens rearing its ugly heads again. I find it offensive, because of the feeble arguments used to justify it and because of what it really symbolises - the second class nature of women to some people.
Some argued that it was an expression of religion. Now, I make no qualms about not being religious. Believe in whatever imaginary sky bully or bullies that you like - but don't try and force those beliefs on me. The veil is not in the Koran - I've looked. It appears to have its origins elsewhere. So it cannot be justified in religion. And anyway, I do not think religion should ever be an excuse for an opt out for common decency and abiding with the laws of the land and respect for our neighbours (don't get me started about the bigots in the House of Lords trying to perpetuate discrimination against LGBT people). It appears to come from a Nomadic origin where women were property, and the veil was an extension of this, allowing a man to hide his 'property' and keep it all for himself. In a civilised country, this is totally indefensible.
A person with respect for those around them would not walk about in a balaclava, or a motorcycle helmet when without the accompanying motorcycle. It is rude, and signifies that a person has something to hide - there becomes an air of dishonesty about them, and in turn that can be interpreted as the potential for malintent. If I walk down the street in a balaclava, or go into a bank I would likely be arrested. To act in such a way shows utter contempt for the society around us. In the same way the full veil is showing contempt for the people around. Why do we tolerate it? At last France has spoken out and banned this offensive symbol of public oppression of women.
It is long overdue for being banned in public here too. I get fed up of the cries of "racist" whenever such things surface in public. It is not racist, and the people who think they score brownie points for denouncing others at the drop of a hat are idiots deserving only of contempt. Look the word up in the dictionary - it is an unjustified bias. The issue of the veil is fully justified as an issue to be discussed.
Not all Muslim women wear it. Indeed, it is a minority who are highly visible only because of the very visible and offensive nature of this garment worn in public. Most Muslim people are the same as anyone else. Many Muslims also find the veil offensive for the same reasons that people like me do. The sooner this is consigned to the same cupboard that balaclavas got tossed into, the better.
Equal rights for women were hard fought. We should not be letting them slide away again because we are frightened of being wrongly branded for daring to say the truth.
Sunday 24 January 2010
I have the funkiest dreams when hallucinating with a fever.
You may have wondered why I was being a little quiet over the last few days. Actually, you most likely didn't, but I'll tell you why anyway whether you like it or not. I seem to have been struck down by a mystery illness. It's been partially like flu, though as I made it to the corner shop and back today (only just!) it is safe to say it can't be full-blown flu. But it has been close at times. Yesterday is a delerious blur, due in no small part to a massive fever, dizzy spells and major joint pain coupled with bouts of pins and needles and nausia. And they are just a few of the symptoms. I'm still pretty weak even after averaging twenty hours a day asleep, so I shan't write too much. Suffice to say I am alive (though it didn't feel like it yesterday) and 'normal*' service will be resumed as soon as I am well enough.
*am I ever?
*am I ever?
Thursday 21 January 2010
How did they squeeze the Doctor into such a small package?
Incidentally, before I forget. The replacements for the Black Guardian box set arrived today. I feel obliged to mention Amazon for their sterling customer service. This is the second time I have had a problem with an item, and both times they have quickly and without hassle sorted out a replacement. Thanks to them, Zoë and I shall be watching classic Peter Davidson action in bed tonight.
1980s BBC sci-fi on a low budget, we salute you!
1980s BBC sci-fi on a low budget, we salute you!
Nemesisisisisis
Finally at long last the revised edition of 'Orb of Arawaan' is finished. It took an awful lot of hours to do, and over ran somewhat. But I'm pretty happy that the end result is more like the book I should have written in 2004. Some 10,000 words shorter and with some portions substantially rewritten and the rest heavily edited, I'm proud to say that this book is no longer the ugly duckling of those that I have written.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: editing is my nemesis. I do hate it. But some things are necessary evils and have to be done. It does at least mean that I'm familiar once more with the plot so I could easily write the sequel that has been in the planning stage since 2004. Whether I do or not remains to be seen - I have my work cut out ensuring that editing with 'Bringing home the stars' goes on as and when needed - books don't just publish themselves, you know! (Though that would be rather weird if they did).
I've said it before and I'll say it again: editing is my nemesis. I do hate it. But some things are necessary evils and have to be done. It does at least mean that I'm familiar once more with the plot so I could easily write the sequel that has been in the planning stage since 2004. Whether I do or not remains to be seen - I have my work cut out ensuring that editing with 'Bringing home the stars' goes on as and when needed - books don't just publish themselves, you know! (Though that would be rather weird if they did).
Monday 18 January 2010
Out with one weather pattern, and in with another.
The snow has all gone now. It melted so fast that there's been some localised flooding. When Zoë and I went up to the radio studios on Saturday, we ended up fording a fair few torrents across the road. On the plus side, the underside of my car got a good wash, as did the alloys.
One thing that the melting of the snow has revealed is the sheer amount of dross that was hidden underneath. Quite apart from the grit and grime (no doubt leftovers of all the rock salt that people were panic-spreading like manic fools) there is mountains of litter. Strange - I don't remember wheelie bins being upended on the day it snowed. But that's just what it looks like has happened. I may have to take a broom to the front drive.
On the writing front, the heavy edit of 'Orb of Arawaan' is nearly complete. Finally I'm starting to see a semblance of the book I should have written in 2004. Still, better late than never. It also sets me up to remember the charectors and plot for writing the second book in this trilogy (yes - I heard the ker-ching noise coming from somehwere too. What's the point in publishing a book if you can't pay the bills off the back of it?). I've also been having email exchanges with the agent, and things look very promising indeed for 'Bringing home the stars'. The first three chapters have been tweaked, and he's looking through the rest of the book whilst (I presume) a plan is formulated for pitching it to the publishing editors. Fingers crossed, touch wood and all that.
I've been doing some more model making over the last couple of days. Grove street yard - the layout I was building - has been completed, so I'm going through the long forgotten remnants of my bits box looking for little projects. Much of the stuff in there ended up in the scrapyard section of the layout, but some of the things left were some rather decrepit Ratio signals I built years ago. They never looked quite right, and I realised that I had some of the componants painted black instead of off-white. So I retrieved all the bits from the bottom of the box (the years and the rummaging in the boxes have been hard on weak glue joints) and have been painting and rebuilding. They look quite good now. The only thing is that there isn't any option to add them belatedly to Grove street yard so I guess I might have to just build another project to put them on...
One thing that the melting of the snow has revealed is the sheer amount of dross that was hidden underneath. Quite apart from the grit and grime (no doubt leftovers of all the rock salt that people were panic-spreading like manic fools) there is mountains of litter. Strange - I don't remember wheelie bins being upended on the day it snowed. But that's just what it looks like has happened. I may have to take a broom to the front drive.
On the writing front, the heavy edit of 'Orb of Arawaan' is nearly complete. Finally I'm starting to see a semblance of the book I should have written in 2004. Still, better late than never. It also sets me up to remember the charectors and plot for writing the second book in this trilogy (yes - I heard the ker-ching noise coming from somehwere too. What's the point in publishing a book if you can't pay the bills off the back of it?). I've also been having email exchanges with the agent, and things look very promising indeed for 'Bringing home the stars'. The first three chapters have been tweaked, and he's looking through the rest of the book whilst (I presume) a plan is formulated for pitching it to the publishing editors. Fingers crossed, touch wood and all that.
I've been doing some more model making over the last couple of days. Grove street yard - the layout I was building - has been completed, so I'm going through the long forgotten remnants of my bits box looking for little projects. Much of the stuff in there ended up in the scrapyard section of the layout, but some of the things left were some rather decrepit Ratio signals I built years ago. They never looked quite right, and I realised that I had some of the componants painted black instead of off-white. So I retrieved all the bits from the bottom of the box (the years and the rummaging in the boxes have been hard on weak glue joints) and have been painting and rebuilding. They look quite good now. The only thing is that there isn't any option to add them belatedly to Grove street yard so I guess I might have to just build another project to put them on...
Saturday 16 January 2010
Benzodiazepine-like afternoon.
My parents always recounts the days of their early married life, and in particular the drinking of strange things such as barley wine and genuine west country cider. By all accounts these experiments were ill-fated, resulting in illness for the first, and waking up at 11:00pm with the curtains open and the sunday lunch remains still on the table for the second.
How I scoffed at their lightweightedness. Until now.
Zoë and I decided that we would try a bottle of cherry wine that we found whilst stocking up onbott polishing stripes bogroll loo roll in the supermarket. It was a happy pink-red colour. What could possibly be wrong with that? It tasted okay when we opened in and tried it at home - rather like cough syrup, but smoother (and more liquid than syrup).
Four hours later I woke up in the gathering twilight, to discover Zoë had only just woken up herself. That stuff is like white bloody lightning crossed with maximum strength Benzodiazepine. I have to say that that is one little tipple that will be used more sparingly, if at all, in the future.
How I scoffed at their lightweightedness. Until now.
Zoë and I decided that we would try a bottle of cherry wine that we found whilst stocking up on
Four hours later I woke up in the gathering twilight, to discover Zoë had only just woken up herself. That stuff is like white bloody lightning crossed with maximum strength Benzodiazepine. I have to say that that is one little tipple that will be used more sparingly, if at all, in the future.
Friday 15 January 2010
Fabulous prizes to be won.
Incidentally, a big hello to fan #60 *waves*
Come to the Jenny side. We have cookies.
Tell your friends.
Come to the Jenny side. We have cookies.
Tell your friends.
Night of the swallow.
It's strange how a record can take on a whole host of deep memories about a period in life, and throw them back when you least expect it. I've always been into music in a big way, with a wide range of tastes. When I was at sixth form I had a strong friendship with a girl who I had known since infant school. We shared a lot of interests, and seemed to gravitate towards the same new and old music together. We were also avid writers, and ultimatewly were engaged (though it was not to last). We remained very good friends for many years, until her suicide a couple of years ago.
Kate Bush was one of the artists we really adored together. I can remember going with her on Saturdays to a shop in Bolton called X-records. We got to know one of the sales staff very well, and he would let us browse the large stockrooms behind and above the shop that contained many more records than could evwer grace the shelves of the sales areas. It was there one day in January 1998 that I remember buying a huge amount of Kate Bush singles, EPs and LPs. One of these was an LP that we proceded to listen to a lot together. It's called 'The Dreaming'. It's not one of the more well known ones, and I guess its quirkiness was why we liked it.
I leant her a turntable so we could listen to records in her bedroom. We had to balance it on top of the television and run wires across her windowsill to plug it to the amplifier, but it worked. Lying on the bed in each other's arms we would listen to tracks for hours (we wore out at least one needle) and would order takeaway pizza from a shop called 'Amigos' in Bromley Cross. Always the same - a small Hawaiian pizza each. They were gorgeous. In between we probably smoked in the garden too.
'All the love' is a track that brings a tear to my eye. She used to love mimicing the answer machine messages that form part of the song. It's got a fabulous dark and forboding feeling to the song, like saying goodbye to some-one dear to you for the last time. In some ways that feels quite apt now, though we weren't to know then.
There were other albums we adored. Underworld's 'Second toughest in the infants' was another LP we nearly wore out. I won't tell you what we used to do whiclt the tracks on side two of LP1 played, but you can guess. That track (the inlay is quite vague as to what it is actually called, due to the difficulty in deducing where one track starts and another begins) still brings back powerful memories. Then there was 'Hounds of love', and in particular, side B of this LP with Under ice, Hello Earth and Waking the witch being particular favourites. We discovered Pink Floyd together along with Clannad (we managed to source most of the albums, some having to be got in South Africa by her Father before he passed away) and 'Number of the Beast' by Iron Maiden. I went with her to see Bruce Dickinson and Adrian Smith play acoustic in X-records one time, and she loved Hallowed be thy name.
Get out of my house spins patiently now. I remember her singing this over and over again, and us snorting the donkey guffaws at the end together in between fits of giggles. Even now, the sound of Kate Bush's voice is exactly the same as Steffi's singing voice - she adored KB and modelled herself for a time on her.
I guess I'll never get over you.
"I'm the conciege,
Chez moi, honey.
Won't let you in,
for love nor money.
My home, my joy,
I'm barred and bolted.
Get out of my house!"
Kate Bush was one of the artists we really adored together. I can remember going with her on Saturdays to a shop in Bolton called X-records. We got to know one of the sales staff very well, and he would let us browse the large stockrooms behind and above the shop that contained many more records than could evwer grace the shelves of the sales areas. It was there one day in January 1998 that I remember buying a huge amount of Kate Bush singles, EPs and LPs. One of these was an LP that we proceded to listen to a lot together. It's called 'The Dreaming'. It's not one of the more well known ones, and I guess its quirkiness was why we liked it.
I leant her a turntable so we could listen to records in her bedroom. We had to balance it on top of the television and run wires across her windowsill to plug it to the amplifier, but it worked. Lying on the bed in each other's arms we would listen to tracks for hours (we wore out at least one needle) and would order takeaway pizza from a shop called 'Amigos' in Bromley Cross. Always the same - a small Hawaiian pizza each. They were gorgeous. In between we probably smoked in the garden too.
'All the love' is a track that brings a tear to my eye. She used to love mimicing the answer machine messages that form part of the song. It's got a fabulous dark and forboding feeling to the song, like saying goodbye to some-one dear to you for the last time. In some ways that feels quite apt now, though we weren't to know then.
There were other albums we adored. Underworld's 'Second toughest in the infants' was another LP we nearly wore out. I won't tell you what we used to do whiclt the tracks on side two of LP1 played, but you can guess. That track (the inlay is quite vague as to what it is actually called, due to the difficulty in deducing where one track starts and another begins) still brings back powerful memories. Then there was 'Hounds of love', and in particular, side B of this LP with Under ice, Hello Earth and Waking the witch being particular favourites. We discovered Pink Floyd together along with Clannad (we managed to source most of the albums, some having to be got in South Africa by her Father before he passed away) and 'Number of the Beast' by Iron Maiden. I went with her to see Bruce Dickinson and Adrian Smith play acoustic in X-records one time, and she loved Hallowed be thy name.
Get out of my house spins patiently now. I remember her singing this over and over again, and us snorting the donkey guffaws at the end together in between fits of giggles. Even now, the sound of Kate Bush's voice is exactly the same as Steffi's singing voice - she adored KB and modelled herself for a time on her.
I guess I'll never get over you.
"I'm the conciege,
Chez moi, honey.
Won't let you in,
for love nor money.
My home, my joy,
I'm barred and bolted.
Get out of my house!"
Thursday 14 January 2010
Today I have mostly met William Hague
As the Ronseal advert might say: "This post does exactly what it says on the tin title". Zoë and I have been off to see William Hague at a shindig in Whitefield. Some of you may know that Zoë is quite politically active, and I'm her driver. So off we went.
She's met him before. I suppose I really ought to get around to apologising to him for the way my wife haranged him to get her photo taken with him last time they met. But everyone was doing it - that's her story and she does stick to it. I've never met him before; he's shorter than I imaginedf. However the charisma just oozes from him. He also spoke a lot that was refreshing to hear from a politician.
Oh, and we had our photo taken with him. Actually, we were talking with him (as you do) and some official photographer took our picture for some newsletter, and Zoë asked if she could get a copy.
So that's been our evening. It was rather fun. In other news, I've completed some okaying and tweaking of chapters of 'Bringing home the stars' for the agent. Gosh! That sounds odd to say! Fingers crossed that this is the verge of the big time and seeing copies of my books on the bestsellers' table in Waterstones. Oh, and the Hollywood blockbuster - don't forget that. There's a huge wedge of cash in selling film rights these days.
A girl can but dream.
She's met him before. I suppose I really ought to get around to apologising to him for the way my wife haranged him to get her photo taken with him last time they met. But everyone was doing it - that's her story and she does stick to it. I've never met him before; he's shorter than I imaginedf. However the charisma just oozes from him. He also spoke a lot that was refreshing to hear from a politician.
Oh, and we had our photo taken with him. Actually, we were talking with him (as you do) and some official photographer took our picture for some newsletter, and Zoë asked if she could get a copy.
So that's been our evening. It was rather fun. In other news, I've completed some okaying and tweaking of chapters of 'Bringing home the stars' for the agent. Gosh! That sounds odd to say! Fingers crossed that this is the verge of the big time and seeing copies of my books on the bestsellers' table in Waterstones. Oh, and the Hollywood blockbuster - don't forget that. There's a huge wedge of cash in selling film rights these days.
A girl can but dream.
Wednesday 13 January 2010
Have hockey stick, will travel.
What is the typical daily routine of an Author? Well, I'm not sure because I only know one other Author really well, and as he is a journalist too he seems to spend all his time drinking Jameson's whisky in BBC bars the country over. Not necessarily a good example.
This Author (I doubt I'm typical in any way) spent her early morning trading emails with her agent. She then moved on to get a bath and get dressed. It was snowing outside, but unlike the great masses who use this as an excuse to a day off work, I work from home. Also, the only person I would be skiving off would be me. Besides, I like what I do for a living.
I've been planning a sequel to 'Bringing home the stars'. I've been thinking I should for a while. This is one of those areas that Authors get accused of being slackers over. I quite agree that in most other professions, lying on a bed with your eyes closed listening to a Florence and the Machine LP would be considered slacking, but it is part of the creative process for an Author. Honest.
Lunch was a curry, because Zoë (working on magazine articles in the office nextdoor) fancied one. I let her choose - she chose Tikka with Quorn pieces. Nice. We ate it whilst watching an episode of Frasier. Y'know, the episode where they try and start a restaurant. The trouble is that the Crane boys like to meddle and pick, and sooner or later everything falls apart. Which it did.
Lunch break over, I headed back upstairs to the office and settled into my afternoon routine. There is only so long that I can concentrate on book planning, so I've been working on editing 'Orb of Arawaan' for a second edition. I am embarressed to admit that the first edition is rough. Rougher than a rough thing that's been roughened up by sandpaper. There's a good story in there, but Mr Grammer and Mr Spelling weren't on the ball and neither was Mr Editor. So I'm taking the time to redo it. It's coming out really nicely - this is the book I would have written in 2004 if I had been as good as I am now.
Writing and editing need frequent breaks. I know, I know - I have triedreal other jobs, but jobs that require intensive use of the mind and creative imagination take a lot out of you. That's why there is a bed in my office - for those creative daydreaming breaks. Really - if you arean Author, you will know what I mean. If you aspire to be an Author, get yourself down to bed-o-rama and pick yourself out a cheapie for the office.
During the evening break I decided to browse Facebook (or 'MyFace' or 'FaceTube' as I tend to call it - I'm getting old, all right? When I was a teenager the internet barely existed). It's always nice to see what people I haven't seen since school are up to - keeping in touch has never been so easy at a swoop. I also went and entered a competition to be an extra in St Trinians III. Just because. Think of me as the girl who got kept down at school. Every year. Now I'm 30 and my uniform doesn't fit properly anymore. Have hockey stick, will travel.
It's ten o'clock in the evening, and I'm still working. Being an Author might sound like being a slacker to some, but the hours can be very long. It is so fortunate that I like this way of life. You get to stay in the warmth, and I'm not good with crowds. Later on tonight I'll press on with some more editing, and maybe think again about what I'm going to write for my next book. I might even write a short story. Maybe one about guns that fire rockets that fire other rockets that fire aliens on motorbikes that fire rockets.... (you get the picture).
This Author (I doubt I'm typical in any way) spent her early morning trading emails with her agent. She then moved on to get a bath and get dressed. It was snowing outside, but unlike the great masses who use this as an excuse to a day off work, I work from home. Also, the only person I would be skiving off would be me. Besides, I like what I do for a living.
I've been planning a sequel to 'Bringing home the stars'. I've been thinking I should for a while. This is one of those areas that Authors get accused of being slackers over. I quite agree that in most other professions, lying on a bed with your eyes closed listening to a Florence and the Machine LP would be considered slacking, but it is part of the creative process for an Author. Honest.
Lunch was a curry, because Zoë (working on magazine articles in the office nextdoor) fancied one. I let her choose - she chose Tikka with Quorn pieces. Nice. We ate it whilst watching an episode of Frasier. Y'know, the episode where they try and start a restaurant. The trouble is that the Crane boys like to meddle and pick, and sooner or later everything falls apart. Which it did.
Lunch break over, I headed back upstairs to the office and settled into my afternoon routine. There is only so long that I can concentrate on book planning, so I've been working on editing 'Orb of Arawaan' for a second edition. I am embarressed to admit that the first edition is rough. Rougher than a rough thing that's been roughened up by sandpaper. There's a good story in there, but Mr Grammer and Mr Spelling weren't on the ball and neither was Mr Editor. So I'm taking the time to redo it. It's coming out really nicely - this is the book I would have written in 2004 if I had been as good as I am now.
Writing and editing need frequent breaks. I know, I know - I have tried
During the evening break I decided to browse Facebook (or 'MyFace' or 'FaceTube' as I tend to call it - I'm getting old, all right? When I was a teenager the internet barely existed). It's always nice to see what people I haven't seen since school are up to - keeping in touch has never been so easy at a swoop. I also went and entered a competition to be an extra in St Trinians III. Just because. Think of me as the girl who got kept down at school. Every year. Now I'm 30 and my uniform doesn't fit properly anymore. Have hockey stick, will travel.
It's ten o'clock in the evening, and I'm still working. Being an Author might sound like being a slacker to some, but the hours can be very long. It is so fortunate that I like this way of life. You get to stay in the warmth, and I'm not good with crowds. Later on tonight I'll press on with some more editing, and maybe think again about what I'm going to write for my next book. I might even write a short story. Maybe one about guns that fire rockets that fire other rockets that fire aliens on motorbikes that fire rockets.... (you get the picture).
Monday 11 January 2010
Deconnectivity [edit]
[edit]
I apologise for the duplicate post. I cannot find how to delete it. It seems to have been caused by my internet service provider resorting to string and two polystyrene cups to transmit data.
I apologise for the duplicate post. I cannot find how to delete it. It seems to have been caused by my internet service provider resorting to string and two polystyrene cups to transmit data.
Deconnectivity
Hello? Has some-one poured treacle into my i-n-t-e-r-n-e-t c-o-n-n-e-c-t-i-o-n-? Waiting for pages to appear is like listening to Captain Birdseye's sideburns growing.
Sunday 10 January 2010
Welcome to Notwork Fail.
Britain's railways. Run by morons. Spot the maroon class 42 diesel loco.
http://matthew457.fotopic.net/p42486202.html
http://matthew457.fotopic.net/p42486202.html
Saturday 9 January 2010
Photographic day.
I had the lovely photographer Sarah around today to do the pictures for the magazine article I wrote. We initially started by carrying the model railway into the snow in the back garden and taking pictures there. The light was very good, but it was disconcerting to hear the "tink - tink" noises of things contracting in the freezing conditions. I think it is safe to say that even at 1:72 scale, railway lines suffer just as much from the weather. I was afraid of solder joints cracking under the strain of shrinking track, so we came back into the warmth to continue.
I had been worried about the feeble fake glow from the energy saving 8W bulbs, however Sarah and her kit impressed me. She took a photo of nothing but a white sheet of paper, then used a setting on her camera to treat the colour of the resulting image as the camera's white-point. Then hey presto! Suddenly all the pictures looked just like we were outside again with perfect light, only we weren't.
Later on tonight I'm going to choose a dozen or so pictures to send and write the captions. Then I'll send them off to the editor via email. Easy peasy. Or something like that.
I had been worried about the feeble fake glow from the energy saving 8W bulbs, however Sarah and her kit impressed me. She took a photo of nothing but a white sheet of paper, then used a setting on her camera to treat the colour of the resulting image as the camera's white-point. Then hey presto! Suddenly all the pictures looked just like we were outside again with perfect light, only we weren't.
Later on tonight I'm going to choose a dozen or so pictures to send and write the captions. Then I'll send them off to the editor via email. Easy peasy. Or something like that.
Friday 8 January 2010
Welcome to a Muppet's winter wonderland.
Snow is pretty. Unlike a lot of people in the UK, I'm not a muppet and when I have to travel, I generally succeed and go well prepared. I've ticked all the boxes so far for living with the winter conditions effectively and safely.
Or so I thought. Last night I discovered that there was one little thing that I had overlooked. It might not be weather for painting and fibreglass resining a boat, but snow still falls where it is kept, and a foot of snow on a tent roof is rather a lot of weight. I scraped most of it off, but the tent's structure has buckled in places. Only when the snow has fully melted will I be able to assess the damge to either the structure or tarpaulin. The boat should be just fine, but the weather in the future may well get its wicked way and drip on through the cover again and make my working area squidgy.
It seems though that out on the roads, a little snow is bringing all the Muppets out. I've seen a lot of cars with smashed lights and stoved in front ends. I've also seen a lot of cars that are just abandoned in the middle of the roads, forcing competant drivers to have to drive around them and risk getting really stuck themselves as a result.
I've seen idiots stealing the grit from the yellow grit boxes on roads so that they can use it to grit their own drives and garden pathes, leaving side roads frozen and with no source of grit for the roads. I do feel that if people want to grit their own drives, they should be buying their own grit.
Finally, there seems to be a spate of Muppets walking in the middle of the roads without a care for the traffic. Hello? How stupid are these people? Meanwhile the intelligent masses watch them from the pavement with incredulity.
One thing that I've noticed over the last couple of weeks is how energy efficiency of homes has become very visible. Normally the waste heat radiating out through poorly insulated walls and rooves isn't all that obvious; it is the invisible wastage that can be easily forgotten about. Not in the snow. Looking around the locale, it is interesting to see just which houses show signs of lots of heat escaping from them.
Those that are well insulated still wear their white toupé of snow. Those that are leaking heat like a seive have long since had the snow melt and slide from their rooves. There is also a stretching island around some homes too where the snow doesn't quite reach the walls. Where that snow free gap is bigger, so the walls are radiating more heat. I really think that many homeowners might be wise to take note of this very visible display and make the most of the insulating grants that are available; I believe they start to run out from April this year.
The snow on the roof of chateaux Jenny is still thick and fluffy. The no-man's land of bare ground around the walls has barely appeared. I think it is safe to say that the insulation work we had done in October last year was very wise indeed. It has certainly meant that we haven't had to resort to running the heating for any more than an extra hour a day, even when the temperature last night hit at least minus eleven.
Or so I thought. Last night I discovered that there was one little thing that I had overlooked. It might not be weather for painting and fibreglass resining a boat, but snow still falls where it is kept, and a foot of snow on a tent roof is rather a lot of weight. I scraped most of it off, but the tent's structure has buckled in places. Only when the snow has fully melted will I be able to assess the damge to either the structure or tarpaulin. The boat should be just fine, but the weather in the future may well get its wicked way and drip on through the cover again and make my working area squidgy.
It seems though that out on the roads, a little snow is bringing all the Muppets out. I've seen a lot of cars with smashed lights and stoved in front ends. I've also seen a lot of cars that are just abandoned in the middle of the roads, forcing competant drivers to have to drive around them and risk getting really stuck themselves as a result.
I've seen idiots stealing the grit from the yellow grit boxes on roads so that they can use it to grit their own drives and garden pathes, leaving side roads frozen and with no source of grit for the roads. I do feel that if people want to grit their own drives, they should be buying their own grit.
Finally, there seems to be a spate of Muppets walking in the middle of the roads without a care for the traffic. Hello? How stupid are these people? Meanwhile the intelligent masses watch them from the pavement with incredulity.
One thing that I've noticed over the last couple of weeks is how energy efficiency of homes has become very visible. Normally the waste heat radiating out through poorly insulated walls and rooves isn't all that obvious; it is the invisible wastage that can be easily forgotten about. Not in the snow. Looking around the locale, it is interesting to see just which houses show signs of lots of heat escaping from them.
Those that are well insulated still wear their white toupé of snow. Those that are leaking heat like a seive have long since had the snow melt and slide from their rooves. There is also a stretching island around some homes too where the snow doesn't quite reach the walls. Where that snow free gap is bigger, so the walls are radiating more heat. I really think that many homeowners might be wise to take note of this very visible display and make the most of the insulating grants that are available; I believe they start to run out from April this year.
The snow on the roof of chateaux Jenny is still thick and fluffy. The no-man's land of bare ground around the walls has barely appeared. I think it is safe to say that the insulation work we had done in October last year was very wise indeed. It has certainly meant that we haven't had to resort to running the heating for any more than an extra hour a day, even when the temperature last night hit at least minus eleven.
Pretty F*cking Dumb (or PFD for short)
Dear 'unintelligable squiggle' from Peters Fraser and Dunlop,
Thankyou for the generic rejection letter that comes over six months after I sent you material. However, my name isn't "Eli" or whatever that three letter squiggle was. I also note with interest that you have thoughtfully sent me somebody else's manuscript. As much as I relish reading unsoliscited Chic Lit, I'm sure there is some-one else expecting it back. Whose manuscript did you send them?
Did it ever occur to you that the name on the envelope you were stuffing didn't match the person whose material you were stuffing it with? But then of course you didn't, because you didn't bother to read any of the material sent to you. Never mind - I would happily tell you I already have an agent, but it would most likely be lost somewhere in your internal post and it would be quicker to wait for you to notice the book you rejected on the shelves of Waterstones.
You aren't the first unobservant person to manage to send me some-one else's material. But you belong to an organisation that claims to be a big player in the market, yet you are guilty of Mickey Mouse mistakes.
Yours,
Amused yet irritated Jenny.
Thankyou for the generic rejection letter that comes over six months after I sent you material. However, my name isn't "Eli" or whatever that three letter squiggle was. I also note with interest that you have thoughtfully sent me somebody else's manuscript. As much as I relish reading unsoliscited Chic Lit, I'm sure there is some-one else expecting it back. Whose manuscript did you send them?
Did it ever occur to you that the name on the envelope you were stuffing didn't match the person whose material you were stuffing it with? But then of course you didn't, because you didn't bother to read any of the material sent to you. Never mind - I would happily tell you I already have an agent, but it would most likely be lost somewhere in your internal post and it would be quicker to wait for you to notice the book you rejected on the shelves of Waterstones.
You aren't the first unobservant person to manage to send me some-one else's material. But you belong to an organisation that claims to be a big player in the market, yet you are guilty of Mickey Mouse mistakes.
Yours,
Amused yet irritated Jenny.
Wednesday 6 January 2010
Addicted to electrons and the noises they make..
It strikes me today just how noisy the modern world actually is. I don't mean outside either. No. What I mean is in the home and office. When I was little, there weren't nearly so many electrical gubbins churning out their white noise. I remember my Grandmother's old house was very peaceful. Occasionally you might hear the ticking of a clock or the buzz of the big board in the kitchen when either my sister or I annoyed my Grandmother by pressing the long defunct servent's call bells in the rooms. But aside from that, tranquil peace and quiet.
At home, the bedroom was a place where only the chink of lego pieces being rummaged through generally broke the quiet. Looking back, the only electrical devices I had in my bedroom was, er, the desk lamp? Yeah. My first computer didn't arrive until 1991. I wasn't allowed that in my bedroom (remember a time when "Go to your room!" didn't equate to "Go to the fun place where all the home entertainment is at!"?) and so it lived in the office. Actually, the old Amiga A500 wasn't all that noisy except for the disk drive going throughspin cycle disk access.
Now I sit here in my little office and realise that it is noisy as hell. Quite appart from my heavy handed typing, my current computer sounds like an air conditioning unit, thanks to a noisy RAID array (lots of hard drives to you and me) and nearly a dozen different cooling fans. Then there is the dehumidifier beside that. That's without turning on the stereo, alarm clock or the other two computers and the laser printer (which has its own little noisy air conditioning sound).
I think if everything went quiet I'd be deafoned by the sound of silence. I suspect it would be rather eerie. It's been a long time since we last had a powercut around here. When they do come they highlight just how dependent we are on the flow of electrons:
"The power's died. Bugger. I'll surf the internet until it comes back.... ah. Okay, I'll have a cup of tea whilst I contemplate what to do. Just switch the kettle.... ah. Okay, I'll watch television.... oh. Radio? Nope. I know - I'll read a book. No electricity required there! Clever me. Hmmm - it's a bit gloomy; I'll just turn on the light to see better.... oh. Pants. Perhaps I'll just go to bed and cower under the duvet."
At home, the bedroom was a place where only the chink of lego pieces being rummaged through generally broke the quiet. Looking back, the only electrical devices I had in my bedroom was, er, the desk lamp? Yeah. My first computer didn't arrive until 1991. I wasn't allowed that in my bedroom (remember a time when "Go to your room!" didn't equate to "Go to the fun place where all the home entertainment is at!"?) and so it lived in the office. Actually, the old Amiga A500 wasn't all that noisy except for the disk drive going through
Now I sit here in my little office and realise that it is noisy as hell. Quite appart from my heavy handed typing, my current computer sounds like an air conditioning unit, thanks to a noisy RAID array (lots of hard drives to you and me) and nearly a dozen different cooling fans. Then there is the dehumidifier beside that. That's without turning on the stereo, alarm clock or the other two computers and the laser printer (which has its own little noisy air conditioning sound).
I think if everything went quiet I'd be deafoned by the sound of silence. I suspect it would be rather eerie. It's been a long time since we last had a powercut around here. When they do come they highlight just how dependent we are on the flow of electrons:
"The power's died. Bugger. I'll surf the internet until it comes back.... ah. Okay, I'll have a cup of tea whilst I contemplate what to do. Just switch the kettle.... ah. Okay, I'll watch television.... oh. Radio? Nope. I know - I'll read a book. No electricity required there! Clever me. Hmmm - it's a bit gloomy; I'll just turn on the light to see better.... oh. Pants. Perhaps I'll just go to bed and cower under the duvet."
Tuesday 5 January 2010
Please panic buy your beans here.
It is snowing. Lots. I suppose I'll have to keep up with the Jones and go out panic buying some beans. Hopefully there might be a few left.
Monday 4 January 2010
Burning daylight.
Sign of getting old:
ME: "Where are my glasses?"
ZOË: "You're weaing them."
ME: "Ah. Yes. That would be why I can see everything clearly."
I'll get my place in the home for the terminally bewildered booked now shall I?
ME: "Where are my glasses?"
ZOË: "You're weaing them."
ME: "Ah. Yes. That would be why I can see everything clearly."
I'll get my place in the home for the terminally bewildered booked now shall I?
Stop. Hammertime.
When I was younger, I always wondered how my parents had managed to lose their interest in music. There was a collection of LPs in their possession that hinted that there once had been an interest. But over time it appeared that that interest had waned. Actually, it was something that seemed to happen to so many people of their age. The Beatles and Rolling Stones generations had started listening to not much more than Radio 4.
I always had a massive interest in music. My record collection has, over the years, grown to take up a wall of our lounge here at Jenny Towers, and numbers quite a few thousand albums. But more and more I'm finding that new music just doesn't cut it for me. I'm left wondering exactly why I find so much unappealing now. Then it hit me, that perhaps it really is an age thing. Not losing interest in music, but rather a case of having heard it before.
Let me explain: when I was sixteen, I didn't have a lot of music experience to go off. Most of what I heard therefore sounded fresh and innovative. All the time my parents were shouting "turn that noise down!" they had experience of the music of their youth telling them that they had heard this done before with more originality. Now that I am the age they were then, I too have heard most styles and tricks already. What is there that is truly new in music? When you've heard Rick James' Superfreak covered or sampled for the umpteenth time, it actually sounds like nothing but shit. Really (Though MC Hammer's Can't touch this is still a pretty good sample)
There are still, thankfully, new groups that do interest me. But they are getting further and further apart. I liked 'Empire of the Sun' and stuff that 'The Killers' do. More recently, I've discovered 'Florence and the machine'. But much of what I do buy is filling in gaps in my collection of classic albums from the seventies, eighties and nineties in the main.
Right now as I type this I'm listening to some banging dance club anthems classics from around 2000. Dance music is an area that I confess I do like. Once upon a time I DJed in clubs with a set that often included Fragma, Grace, Way Out West and the Chemical Brothers. I still listen to dance, but what the hell has happened to 'new' dance music? In the main it sounds to me like poor copies of stuff I was spinning on the platters in clubs in 1997. Please people: come up with something new and I might actually go out and buy it again.
I always had a massive interest in music. My record collection has, over the years, grown to take up a wall of our lounge here at Jenny Towers, and numbers quite a few thousand albums. But more and more I'm finding that new music just doesn't cut it for me. I'm left wondering exactly why I find so much unappealing now. Then it hit me, that perhaps it really is an age thing. Not losing interest in music, but rather a case of having heard it before.
Let me explain: when I was sixteen, I didn't have a lot of music experience to go off. Most of what I heard therefore sounded fresh and innovative. All the time my parents were shouting "turn that noise down!" they had experience of the music of their youth telling them that they had heard this done before with more originality. Now that I am the age they were then, I too have heard most styles and tricks already. What is there that is truly new in music? When you've heard Rick James' Superfreak covered or sampled for the umpteenth time, it actually sounds like nothing but shit. Really (Though MC Hammer's Can't touch this is still a pretty good sample)
There are still, thankfully, new groups that do interest me. But they are getting further and further apart. I liked 'Empire of the Sun' and stuff that 'The Killers' do. More recently, I've discovered 'Florence and the machine'. But much of what I do buy is filling in gaps in my collection of classic albums from the seventies, eighties and nineties in the main.
Right now as I type this I'm listening to some banging dance club anthems classics from around 2000. Dance music is an area that I confess I do like. Once upon a time I DJed in clubs with a set that often included Fragma, Grace, Way Out West and the Chemical Brothers. I still listen to dance, but what the hell has happened to 'new' dance music? In the main it sounds to me like poor copies of stuff I was spinning on the platters in clubs in 1997. Please people: come up with something new and I might actually go out and buy it again.
New year, new diet.
I see diets are all the rage. I think I survived the onslaught of Christmas and New Year food excessis, though the talking scales refuses to give me my weight, instead electing to hurl insults at me until I get off. Still, it does seem to have come from the same place that Dave Lister bought Talkie Toaster from.
In truth my 'diet awareness skirt™' has informed me that my arse is becoming dangerously like two badly parked Volkswagons. I have to think thin and squeeze buttocks to get into it. As I seem to put on weight first on my bottom, that tells me it is time to cut back.
I find dieting a chore. I don't do fads, so instead I have a technique of removing temptation. The trick is to always eat just before you go shopping. It's amazing how much less junk and luxury food you buy when not hungry in the supermarket. I've also mostly cut out bread products these days because of Zoë being unable to eat wheat (a loaf of bread is too much for just me to eat, so I go without) which does make a big difference without feeling too much like a chore. I'm also trying to exercise more by using the car less. It would work better if it wasn't so cold and icy. Still, we're off for a mooch around Manchester today. Hopefully more than a few extra calories will get burnt. Hopefully...
In truth my 'diet awareness skirt™' has informed me that my arse is becoming dangerously like two badly parked Volkswagons. I have to think thin and squeeze buttocks to get into it. As I seem to put on weight first on my bottom, that tells me it is time to cut back.
I find dieting a chore. I don't do fads, so instead I have a technique of removing temptation. The trick is to always eat just before you go shopping. It's amazing how much less junk and luxury food you buy when not hungry in the supermarket. I've also mostly cut out bread products these days because of Zoë being unable to eat wheat (a loaf of bread is too much for just me to eat, so I go without) which does make a big difference without feeling too much like a chore. I'm also trying to exercise more by using the car less. It would work better if it wasn't so cold and icy. Still, we're off for a mooch around Manchester today. Hopefully more than a few extra calories will get burnt. Hopefully...
Sunday 3 January 2010
Have your cake and Tweet it.
Everyone and their wife is packing a blog these days. It's become all the rage since the days that I first started blogging in 2004. Back then I was in a queue to jump on the band wagon, but there were plenty more who decided to hop aboard afterwards. I don't know why I never blogged before, after all I had been online since 1997. But I didn't. I'm not sure that there were conventional blog sites back then; search engines were still in their infancy, and Ebay had yet to appear.
These days perhaps there is too much information. Never before has so much been posted about so little by so many. I hate Twitter, and I don't hide it. I don't really feel I need to know the bowel movements of people Icould not give a shit about have no idea who they are. True, some Twitters (or 'Shitters' as I call them in a derogatory way) post real information - Stephen Fry springs to mind. But so many don't, or abuse the Twitter system to post too much dribble that dilutes whatever pivotal things they also might have to say. So I don't follow anyone's Twitter feed.
But some blog sites have become ever so cliquey. There is an 'in crowd' and then there is 'everyone else'. Most people fall into the 'everyone else' category, including me. It leaves me wondering if I am the blogging equivelent of the Twitter Shitter? Do I really care? There is a little voice in my head shouting "you bloody hypocrite" as I blog this. Still, there is cake downstairs and I shall be eating it.
These days perhaps there is too much information. Never before has so much been posted about so little by so many. I hate Twitter, and I don't hide it. I don't really feel I need to know the bowel movements of people I
But some blog sites have become ever so cliquey. There is an 'in crowd' and then there is 'everyone else'. Most people fall into the 'everyone else' category, including me. It leaves me wondering if I am the blogging equivelent of the Twitter Shitter? Do I really care? There is a little voice in my head shouting "you bloody hypocrite" as I blog this. Still, there is cake downstairs and I shall be eating it.
If this is the future, where are the robots with personality disorders and people wearing Bakofoil?
Thanks to illness, the first few days of 2010 passed in a funk of fever, and around sixteen hours a day of not too refreshing sleep. So today actually feels more like a real New Year's day, because it is the first time I've stepped outside since last year. Given it is only three days, that isn't necessarily as amazing as it might sound said, say, in June.
There's been lots of snow around Jenny Towers. The car is a mild white hummock, and the back garden is still virgin snow fresh, untainted by the localoinks children. Even the front door was a good seven or eight feet from the tracks left by nextdoor. It made me feel a bit like we had been lepors.
The walk has done me good. I went up to chez parents to borrow a drill and say hello. Cue many cheesy cries of "I haven't seen you since last year!". Riiiight.
There's been lots of snow around Jenny Towers. The car is a mild white hummock, and the back garden is still virgin snow fresh, untainted by the local
The walk has done me good. I went up to chez parents to borrow a drill and say hello. Cue many cheesy cries of "I haven't seen you since last year!". Riiiight.
Friday 1 January 2010
Welcome to the future.
Apparently we're in next year now. Accordingly, I shall have to learn to write the date correctly on cheques.
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