Boost + McGregor = Aspiration

At first I was going to write about how much I want Ben Fogle’s job. The notion first popped into my head when I saw him on some television programme visiting some random but magnificent places in the world. The boy done good since Castaway, or was it Shipwrecked? Anyway, I concluded that I wanted his job, the kind of occupation where they pay you money to visit unique places on earth and you see what beauty this planet has to offer.

But this did not rest well with me, oh no, whilst choosing between a Boost and a Double Decker at the vending machine, I also decided to delve deeper into my soul. Saying I want Fogle’s presenting job or something of that sort was one thing, but it did not feel right. Apart from the occupation I’d rather have my own life thanks, even my own experiences, ta very muchly. It was only when I decided on a Boost that I remembered about Ewan McGregor. Now, he’s had some experiences. Yes, he is someone I wouldn’t mind swapping places with, well for a couple of days at least. Firstly, Trainspotting is one of my favourite films. The iconic moment for me is when Renton swings that battered holdall across his back and Born Slippy begins playing. Magic.

It is not just starring in a cult film though, I recall his bike trip from London to NYC via some dodgy parts of Russia and Mongolia. I watched those episodes on Sky 1. He travelled properly and experienced some great countries, met some interesting people and also rode a decent bike. He lived it.

By now I was sitting in the cafe munching on my Boost recalling the other trip he took around Africa. He got to see Silver Back Gorillas. One of my dreams is to see these magnificent creatures in the wild and he managed to do it whilst going on yet another adventure. I mean the guy even starred as Obi Wan Kenobi in Star Wars, what more can someone ask of their career, oh yeah, they could have starred in Shallow Grave.

I finish my Boost bar and smile, it is good to aspire to people and I want a bit of what McGregor’s had, particularly going to see Silver Backs before they are extinct. I go back to work aware that Paddington’s Shadow is miles and miles away from reaching this goal but also happy that I’ve at least discovered something I would truly like to do.

Viral Woes

Last week I was browsing the BBC website whilst listening to Jamie T on YouTube. All was as should be until I tried to click to the next page when suddenly my netbook screen flickered and all of a sudden it went black and restarted. Upon boot-up my background picture had disappeared and I was left with a white one. That’s odd, I thought before right-clicking to change my picture back. The little pop-up appeared and I noticed that my option to change had been greyed out. In fact I could see another icon within the list entitled, ‘critical warning’.

Slightly concerned about what was happening I logged on to interweb only to find that my default home page had changed to some 8888.com advert. Something was up, something malicious and annoying. I quickly loaded up AVG and it briefly appeared before shutting itself down again. What? I thought, and tried again. It happened again. This time I changed tact and went launch it from Run on the taskbar. It had disappeared. I then tried my last line of defence before admitting I’d been well and truly shafted. I pressed the Windows key + R and got a message telling me that function had been disabled by the administrator. I’m the administrator, aren’t I?

Apparently not, this little monkey of a virus had taken over my computer. I even tried to reach the Spybot website only to be redirected to some saucy livecam with some hot chick. Although, briefly a welcome distraction, the fact my netbook had been compromised brought me back to rainy reality. My only option was to try and reformat the hard drive. One issue, I would sacrifice all the scrawls I’d accumulated since January.

Swallowing acceptance like I was drinking egg yolk full of nettles (the ones that hurt and require a doc leaf which never works) I tried to reformat the whole thing but stumbled at the first hurdle. This thing doesn’t have a CD-Rom drive and I don’t have an operating system on a flash pen just hanging about. I sighed, and went to listen to some music, half annoyed about been taunted by a cyber bug and half annoyed I was annoyed at the whole thing.

On Monday I decided to take in the ‘puter to work and ask nicely to IT for advice. They were good and gave me some but nothing worked. I was beaten, that was until someone completely unrelated to IT, in fact hates IT, said, ‘why you so vexed?’, to which I replied, ‘My lil’ ‘puter is ruined by a virus and the only way to fix it is to reformat the hard drive but I ain’t got XP’.

‘Yeah I had that problem, you need to find the recovery key and then I suggest you download Windows 7 it's really good, and it’s only £30 because we get some employee discount or something’.

‘what?’ and then I thought, how does he know this stuff?
‘The recovery key is either f2 or f4, try it out when you have a moment, see ya.’

First thing I did was try and find out whether Windows 7 was available on the cheap. It was. Buoyed by this revelation I turned on the netbook and pressed ‘f4’ as soon as it turned on. There was a whirring noise followed by some blue screen flickering until a page finally loaded up saying ‘Welcome to Samsung recovery’.

So now I’ve got the netbook in working order and have pimped it up with windows 7. I am happy again.

In other news, I have terminated my Twitter account after only having opened it 3 months ago. I just canny not be bothered with it any longer.

“Lynn, you’re just like a little mouse”

This is exactly how I was feeling upon thinking about my return to work. I find coming back to work after an extended break difficult to handle. It’s not just the fact you have been away enjoying yourself and devoid from all your daily responsibilities and had been left with only two, ‘where are we going to sleep tonight?’, and ‘shall we eat here?’

My temperament can handle this quite well. What it struggles with is the unknown, what mess did I leave behind? Or whether things have moved on so much that I’ll never be able to hop back onto the conveyor belt of daily life duties and that I’ll have to find another one. Thinking about it now, when I was younger, I was the same at school, if I had been away longer than 3 weeks or after the 6 weeks holiday, I’d get all nervous because I was anxious about not knowing what was going to happen in the near future.

So before my legs went all wobbly and I began stammering as much as Professor Quirrell, I thought about why I feel like this and realised that I strive continuity and that change causes this immediate review of, ‘why is it changing?’, to run through my mind. So I decided to play on this uncertainty coupled with anxiety and see what I could find by thinking of the worst case scenario that could unravel in front of my bleary red eyes.

I decided that it would be for everyone to shake their heads whilst closing their eyes in disapproval, nay, pity, before being told that I was to collect my stuff and go. For a moment I thought this terrible, utter disaster. It was only after I started to picture this in my mind that I began to actually realise that should it ever happen, it would not be necessarily the worst thing, it would only mean that that chapter had ended. And the most important thing is not to think about going in on Monday with an aura of trepidation.

So I walked into the office the next day and attempted to take everything in my stride. However, then I heard this, then, hit replay about 8 times until I concluded, “sh*t happens, and if it all goes wrong, go to New York, ok, may just York then.”

In other news, I am really pleased to write about the return of Coldbrain to blogging. Alas, Coldbrain was the person who got me into scrawling my thoughts on Blogger so I am indebted to him for introducing me to this medium. I have missed his enlightening approach to topics and his tone of writing ever since MrColdbrain was closed down, well actually, his Lewis Hamilton joke entry was a significant turning point on the quality of that blog. However, he has now returned here on Tumblr.

Is it me, or is Tumblr and Wordpress light-years ahead of Blogspot in templates, accessibility and just about everything, it seems? I’m hoping Blogger is going to step-up or it could become the new MySpace.

P.S. the title of this blog is from an Alan Partridge qoute, I've been trying to find the exact scene on YouTube but it evades me.

Lesotho & South Africa

I got in around 11am Saturday morning and had a bath before going straight to bed. I woke up around 8pm and everything felt odd, like I’d been away longer. Still after a brew I decided I better write everything down that is currently in my head. Lots of the stuff I did out there still hasn’t sunk in yet but I think I’ve managed to capture most of the places visited on the journey.

Lesotho

Lesotho is a wonderful country. It is poor and that is visible in the state of the roads and the majority of the structures built. Yet, it is surrounded by some breathtaking scenery, if you like mountains then you will love this country. The Drakensburg is also in Lesotho as well as South Africa (although I never went) so if mountain walking is your hobby, you should pay a visit.

I went to Maseru which is the capital and the place was great. The people were friendly and I did not feel threatened there in the slightest, even when venturing deep into the belly of their central market. Of course you are encouraged to view what is being sold, and will gently nudged into making a purchase, but if you decline no offence is taken. One thing that did stick out in my mind was the amount of barbers that Maseru had, practically every other spot was a makeshift barbers. What I mean by makeshift is a large cargo holder container for the shop with a couple of garden chairs and some clippers hanging from the wall. I was tempted but I’d already given myself a haircut so just looked on and watched as someone was getting their head shaved.

I visited the mountain where the country was formed and the tour guide explained that all the people gathered here to evade their attackers and in fact used the mountain as a means of a platform to forge their own attack on those who tried to climb it. Eventually Moshoeshoe led them down to victory and Lesotho was born. Whilst at the top I saw another mountain which was shaped a bit like a hat I’d seen a Basotho boy wearing earlier in the day, it turned out that the mountain is their national symbol and features on all their car number plates.
















Kruger Park

The concept of Kruger Park was hard to fathom. The idea that there was a national park bigger than the country I live in. It just didn’t make any sense. That was until of course I visited the place. Once through the gates (which reminded me of Jurrassic Park) you are then invited to drive around and look for any animal you can find under the sun. Within a few metres I spotted an impala and thought I’d done well. Turns out there are thousands of these little antelopes. Along the road the shrubbery is quite dense so visibility is thin but every 800 metres or so it clears up and you are rewarded with a glimpse of a beast. We saw black rhino and two friendly giraffes that walked right up to the roadside and began munching on a tall tree whilst every one stopped their cars to take a look.

The early morning safari drive is recommended if you can get up and be at the meeting point, which is at 5am! The reason it is so early is because that is when a lot of the animals come out to play. In fact, within a few minutes of driving a large African elephant with her baby pounded across the road. The elephant stared at the vehicle for a moment before ushering her baby along. We also encountered a pride of lions relaxing on the road which was enthralling to watch even though they were doing nothing. I also caught my first glimpse of the Greater Kudu which freaked me out. I never knew antelopes could grow that big, it was bigger than a horse! There were also a lot of vervet monkeys which scrambled along the roadside looking for food, they also invaded the lodgings and would try to open bins or investigate any rubbish that happened to be left behind. Quite a few hyenas and buffaloes roamed the area as well, the hyenas looked quite devious and their skulking manner made me feel a bit uncomfortable. It looked like they were looking for a weakness in something which they could exploit. Unfortunately the weather was not always good and resembled England quite a bit but that is where the similarities ended.

















Shosholoza meyl train journey

The longest train journey I had ever been on before this one was the London Waterloo to Weymouth I used to take every Christmas. This train journey was to take 19 hours from Johannesburg to Port Elizabeth. The Shosholoza meyl is a long distance train and I was not sure what to expect.

Inside we were given our cabin names and we went in them. It was not like the long rows of seats I was expecting; instead it was one long hard seat per person. That long seat was to be turned into a bed. So 19 hours was spent either within the allocated cabin or along the corridor where the views were amazing, especially during sunset. Every now and then a lady would walk by asking us if we wanted food and would shove a menu that consisted of either burgers or steaks.

It was a surprisingly pleasant journey considering there were not many places to go. The only negative were the train’s brakes. Every time it stopped the brakes would wake me up as they screeched to halt leaving me bleary eyed and forgetting where I was. And do began the Garden Route journey.











Port Elizabeth

This city is known as the ‘windy city’ in South Africa and it lived up to its name. However, the wind was not cold and in fact provided a welcome breeze to the hot weather that had finally come. It is a good looking city but there is not actually that much to do there. There is the Donkin lighthouse which I climbed and stood at the top taking photos of everything below, and it also has some beautiful beaches. This was where most of the two days were spent.

















Addo National Elephant Park

This park is superb, if you like elephants. A guide accompanied us on this trip who was knowledge but had a thick accent I found hard to understand. At first there were no sign of elephants; instead I was shown the flightless dung beetle. In fact, there were road signs stating that the dung beetle had the right of way if it was crossing the road which made me laugh. There were also a lot of tortoises that ambled along minding their own business which I loved watching. They just rocked along at a slow pace not caring about anything else. There were also warthog along some of the roads eating the grass before cars would scare them off.

Finally, an elephant came. A young bull crashed through the trees and stomped its way to a watering hole. It was fantastic to see the largest living land mammal doing its daily routine of sucking up water and squirting it all over itself. .

At another watering hole we saw a large herd of elephants drinking. The buffalos were by the watering hole too but were unable to get to the water because the elephants just kept bumping them out of the way. And these are not small animals, either! One elephant got so close to the vehicle that it looked like it was going to sit on us, luckily it just fell asleep standing up so we went.
















Jeffreys Bay

Now in a Kia Picanto the first stop on the road was Jeffreys Bay. The Lonely Plant Guide (LPG) describes the place as a surfing hotspot. It is a small place but has a fantastic beach. True to what was written there were many surfers in the sea trying their luck against the waves. Well, apart from surfing though, there isn’t that much to do apart from go to the beach and try to spot a whale.

After about fifteen minutes I’d given up trying to look for a one, I thought it nothing more than a myth, even though the informative poster about how to spot Southern Right whales made it sound like they were here all the time. I couldn’t see one and in the end decided to get some food instead.

















Storms River Part 1

Storms River is another National Park which is gorgeous woodland by the sea. I do not know the name of the trees but they are tall and picturesque. There were many activities to do here like black water tubing and zip wiring amongst the tall trees which was great to do. There is also various trails to go hiking where you can see some of the wildlife (I never saw any though). It was strange but when surrounded by the trees it does feel like a completely different country and not actually South Africa, perhaps Sherwood Forest or something. It just didn’t seem South African but that is only because I did not associate woodland, streams and mud with this place.

Unfortunately the weather got bad at this point and the visit to Storms River mouth was a bit of a flop because nothing could be seen amongst the grey and rain. What was supposed to be there is a suspension bridge which overlooks where the river and the sea meet.
















Plettenburg Bay

Now, according to the map this was a place where Southern Right Whales could be seen. From the beach I spent a good hour looking and thought I saw something which actually turned out to be a wave just crashing. I wasn’t impressed.

The bay is very beautiful, more so than Jeffreys and also has a better vibe with more things happening. I do not know if this has something to do with the size of the place or because there is better access to marine wildlife. It is recommended to go on a whale watching tour because one thing you will see up close are the Southern Right Whales. I have often wondered in my head how big whales are. Although I have seen a skeleton of a Blue Whale in the Natural History museum it cannot prepare you to see this huge mammal swim past. The barnacles that are scattered all over its body or the way the seagulls land on it and peck away at the dead skin. It is all a bit surreal, well it was for me anyway. There were seven whales that swam by the boat in the end, they raised their heads in the ‘spying’ position, flipped there large tales and another one in the vista even breached.

As an added bonus we also saw a pod of humpback dolphins weaving amongst the waves and past the boat.
















Storms River Part 2

As the weather had made a turn for the better we headed backwards to Storms River Mouth.

I thought the suspension bridge would be a lot higher and also a lot more treacherous, the kind that would be found in an Indiana Jones movie. Instead it was clean, safe and felt durable with no risk of tipping over. The view was lovely however and although I saw no difference between the river water and the sea, the scenery made it a trip worth visiting and the 20 minute hike to get there.

At Storms River Mouth there is also a hike called the Waterfall trail which is a 3km walk there and back to a waterfall which was quite an enticing reason to go and investigate. The trail was great fun although a bit slippery, basically it is along the shoreline but the muddy path is amongst the trees so it’s like walking on wet wood. Yes, I fell a couple of times but was able to scramble to safety before being pulled away into sea. It took 55 minutes to get there and the waterfall was the second one I had seen on my journey so wasn’t completely in awe over it. I was more pleased that I’d managed to get there without falling over. In retrospect wearing trainers is not advisable on hikes. The guides do tell you this so it is worth listening to them because I didn’t and although it added a bit more spice to the walk, it could have easily ended in tears.

















Oudtshoorn

If I was to describe this town it would be ‘Ostrichland’. As you enter, whilst in it and as you drive out you are surrounded by Ostriches. They were everywhere. The town itself was about 55km in mainland and is hot. It reminded me a bit of a Wild West town, the dusty roads, low buildings that resembled saloon bars. All it needed was the tumbleweed but had Ostriches instead.

Oudtshoorn is also home of the Cango Caves. I had never heard of these caves until I read a bit about them in the LPG. Apparently they are world famous. The caves themselves are very interesting to look at. They are different sizes and various textures which help define the ages of certain parts of the caves. Unfortunately, the guide was rather commercial and felt it would be more interesting to focus the explanation on how famous they are and how lucky we all were to see them. It was good to see them but I wish I could just be allowed to have a look myself, but I am aware how impractical and unsafe that would be. Saying that though, there was another tour which was to go right through into the smallest rooms of the caves that required the participant to actually do some caving, I didn’t bother.

Also in Oudtshoorn is the Cango wildlife sanctuary. This was a good place to get a sight of the elusive cheetah (I’d tried really hard in Kruger but to no avail). I did get to see the cheetah and even interact with some small cubs; one of them even regurgitated their raw meat lunch by my foot (nice). I also saw the Marabou Stork in the flesh which I’d always wanted to. Not because they are beautiful or majestic, they are none of these. In fact, they eat what the vultures don’t from a carcass and have habits that I won’t divulge here. I wanted to see one because of the book, Marabou Storks, by Irvine Welsh. It is one of my favourite books.





















Mossell Bay

The place of residence in Mossell Bay was a converted train by the beach front. The view was great but it was rather cramped. Mossell Bay surpassed even Plettenburg Bay for its beauty, the sand was clean and the sea was a nice aqua colour but extremely choppy. The time here was spent on the beach and resting after driving around for so long. In Mossell Bay you have an opportunity to go Great White Shark cage diving. Now, I must admit I was intrigued but ultimately I knew I was too scared to go through with it. A supreme efficient killing machine was something I wanted to see but at the same time didn’t want to submerge myself in ice cold water whilst a leg of lamb (or some other meat) is floating on the water looking to attract these beats.

Instead, as an alternative, there is a trip to Seal Island where you hop on a rather rocky boat to a seal colony. There were hundreds of them on this island no bigger than 100 metre sq. I was kind of hoping that I would see a Great White in action as they feast on these little creatures, but I did not. Instead the boat slowly circled the island whilst the seals hopped on and off the rocks into the sea, it kind of felt like I was watching a wildlife documentary but without the commentary.


















Swellendam

In hindsight I wished we just drove through this town and carried on to Cape Town and had the extra day there. However, I am not sure I feel like this because it was here I caught a cold and got ill or that the town is just boring.

The town is back into mainland and about 200 – 300 km from Cape Town. It is very picturesque. Everything is neat, tidy and clean. It was almost perfect like a Laura Ashely showroom. In fact I thought the designers had been allowed to design the place. I was scared to touch anything in case I’d soil their lovely decorative pathways, trees and shops.

Apart from admiring just how neat and tidy it is, there is not much else to do. There is a national park down the road but I’d already seen my fill of animals. Instead I got a headache which eventually blossomed into a nice spring cold.



Kaapstad

The LPG describes Cape Town as one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I agree. When driving towards it I was not expecting much, partly because I didn’t want to raise my hopes and partly because I wasn’t feeling that good. However, driving down from the mountains I saw the sun gleaming on the silhouette of a city which was in front of the sea, I knew this place was going to be good.

The city is overshadowed by Table Mountain and has the ocean in front of it (not sure if it the Atlantic or Indian). At no point did we feel threatened or unsafe, people were friendly and all were looking forward to the World Cup.

It was here that I experienced a township, it was half a day in the Langa township. Here I saw the poverty which is still evident in South Africa and began to place the effects of the Apartheid into a perspective I could understand. The hostels that were built had been the home of five to six men in each room which eventually swelled to five to six families per room once they brought them to the city. As there was no room they built little homes from wood that were outside the hostels for themselves and that was where they would spend most of the day time, only returning to the hostel to sleep, at night. These hostels are still there and there are still three or four families sharing each room but the townships are advancing. Decent homes have now been built and inhabited as well as some sort of road infrastructure which is good to see.

But as Thambis our guide pointed out, there is a lot of counter productivity happening here. AIDS is rife in the townships, and he described a typical manner in how it spreads. Unfortunately it is the men who are spreading it by visiting the drinking shacks and indulging in copulation with an infected partner. They then return to their homes and infect their wives. It is a horrible reality but people like Thambis are trying to educate the young about the needs of contraception and what AIDS is about because it is still very much taboo in SA.

Cape Town is also home to Robben Island which I managed to visit. Although now quite a commercial tourist attraction it still has echoes of the dark past where Mandela was kept. It was an interesting experience because we got to learn about how the political prisoner was considered the most dangerous and therefore had to be kept apart from the rest. How Nelson and other educated prisoners would teach other inmates academic subjects which eventually spread to teaching the young prison officers. Many would come to Mandela for advice about careers or personal issues. I got to see the cell that Mandela was kept in. It was small, claustrophobic and basic. I cannot work out how he and the others that were kept at this prison actually kept their sanity. It seems it was built to demoralise human spirit.

We also got lost in the building which wasn’t the best thing to do considering it used to be a maximum security prison. Luckily, however, we somehow managed to find the way out!

At the mouth of Cape Town is the Waterfront which is a great place to go. It is rammed with restaurants and bars and is full of vibrancy. I could easily spend a few days just watching the sea whilst supping on a Castle draught lager. Unfortunately, I only had one day left but when the sun is blazing, the breeze is brisk you realise what a wonderful place Cape Town is.

I wish I had more time to explore Cape Point and go up Table Mountain but this has at least given me a thirst to go back, although when I go, I do not know.



















Hermanus

As a quick detour Hermanus was the next place to visit even though we had to go back to Cape Town to catch the train back. Hermanus is a small bay but is by far the most beautiful of them all. The main reason being because it has a small cliff which overlooks the shoreline and that is where all the Southern Right Whales come to feed. There were loads of them coming close to the shoreline and then eventually diving deep and swimming away. There were a few that breached near the shore as well which had everyone in awe because it was so close.

As I looked around it was quite believable that people decided to bring a picnic, some binoculars and then spend the whole day whale watching. The views were really that good. Apart from the whales, Hermanus was very friendly and their craft market has loads of odd bits and bobs that tourist’s, like me, love.

















Train back

The Kia Picanto was dropped off and we boarded the train back to Johannesburg. The journey back was spent mostly sleeping.




Apartheid Museum

I am glad I took the time to visit this place. It is here that I read the story of the Apartheid, its makers and those who fought tooth and nail and some times with their lives to bring the regime down. When you pay your ticket you are given another ticket dependant on your ethnicity. I was the only one who was given the ‘non-white’ and had to enter the museum via a different entrance (albeit it was next to it) than everyone else. The idea was to help put in perspective the divisions that were in place during apartheid. It did make me think ‘geez, if I was living here 30 years ago, my life would have been a nightmare’.

I’m not going to babble too much on about the museum. It is definitely a thought provoking place and I’m glad something like this is here for people to remember and learn from. One thing I will take away and look into further is about the story of man called Steve Biko. He was a political activist and as I read about him I just wanted to know more and more about him because I found him and his spirit so galvanising.

Well, that’s about it really. Lesotho and SA are both great places and am thankful for the experiences. It’s now back to reality…

A Questioning Time

I wanted to write this after skimming through the BBC website for news today. It seems that the BNP’s appearance on Question Time is causing some furore. I think Nick Griffin will be appearing on tonight’s show. I shall not be watching it but am intrigued by the debate that has enflamed regarding whether the BBC is right to invite a racist party to its most popular political show.

It could be described that the BBC is hiding behind a flimsy reason of censorship as to why it asked the BNP to appear. They have announced that it is not up to them to censor law abiding political parties. That is up to the government to decide. As the party won two European Parliamentary seats a few months ago, the BBC were almost obliged (because that is what they have been doing with other minority parties) to ask them to appear. We all know though, what the party stands for and that makes it different from the rest. We should also not forget that the BBC did broadcast a documentary about the findings of an undercover reporter who infiltrated the BNP.


Yet the BBC has an obligation to represent all and it could also be described that it is the fault of the other heavyweight political parties that this party may appear on Question Time in the first place. They have been elected by members of the public but I am sure Labour and Conservatives could have used resource more astutely to assist their candidates greater where the BNP was forming a stronghold somewhere. The BNP seem to be picking up votes by associating high unemployment and allocation of homes to the rise of ethnic minorities within towns and cities. It is not difficult to counter this ideology but it does take resource and perhaps these bigger parties decided it is better spent elsewhere. Maybe this a contributing reason as to why Gordon Brown’s government has not stepped in and prevented them from appearing.

The most irksome thing about this whole issue is that it has turned into a big news agenda item and as a result given the party exposure arguably bigger than the one they will get on Question Time. The debate features in a lot of the newspapers and on the BBC website. This exposure is great for them and gives them an opportunity to raise their profile. This is not what should be done, it is a mistake.

We live in a democracy and they should have their say, because unfortunately, they did win two European Parliamentary seats in June. However, I abhor what they stand for and if the BBC allows their invitation to be exploited by inciting and encouraging racism then, they have to do something, be it re-editing certain parts or just explaining why they are not showing a certain response to a question. That is their obligation to us and failure to do so would make them partly responsible, in my eyes. Yet, I am sure Nick Griffin is a bit too canny to be so brazen, he knows this is a major opportunity to appeal to the mainstream and being so overt and crude would squash any bridge he is trying to connect. It is the mainstream aspect that does worry me; I am worried that he’ll bedazzle certain target groups by using buzz words and slogans to woo them over to at least consider voting for them.


I love the BBC and what it stands for. Yes, I think they made a serious stupid mistake in castigating Russell Brand to appease those who hadn’t even heard of him before Sachs-gate. In general however, it is an absolutely fantastic unrivalled organisation, but it needs to treat this issue carefully because the devil is always in the detail and it is what Nick Griffin says and how they handle what comes from his mouth that they will be judged on.

Still Here

Hello, I have not gone AWOL. I’m currently in Johannesburg on the last stage of my exploits around South Africa and Lesotho. It has been great but although this has been classed as a holiday, I am not rested whatsoever. I have trudged around from East Coast to West Coast and hopped on a train to take me back here.

Anyhow, I will write a bit more about where I have been when I get back, I’ve got a bit of a cold so I’m going to lie down for a bit.

Looking up...to

I was having a conversation with someone yesterday about the people we look up to and if they affect us with our decisions. I couldn’t really comment at the time because I was having trouble remembering who I actually looking up to. It is not that I have no one, I had just forgotten about them other than Optimus Prime and Hot Rod but then I was about 9.

The most obvious person that sprang to mind was Barack Obama. He truly is someone to look up to by many different types of people. The first black American president, great intelligence circulating around his mind and orator skills that would put Mel Gibson’s Braveheart speech to shame, and he is even left-handed. Millions of us wish to achieve only some of the success he has experienced and will continue to cast an eye over him as he makes his history as president. I just hope the health reform system he wishes to introduce does not enflame an enthusiasm to bring Sarah Palin back to challenge him in the next election. That entry is for another day.

For me in particular I aspire to master the oratory skills he possess, I’m completely in awe when he talks because of his manor of delivery.

And then I start to think of the next person I look up to and want to be and a smirk spreads across my face. I look up to Benicio Del Toro, for the work in the films he has done and for just being effortlessly ‘cool’. If I was to be a Hollywood filmstar, Del Toro would be it, I’d pick his type of films, dress like him, let the charisma seep out like he does and of course try and relive that encounter with Scarlett Johansson. As yet he’s never been a lead in a film (that I know of anyway) but that doesn’t matter because he probably doesn’t want to be and likes nothing more than getting involved in some gritty, unique and interesting project, film his part before disappearing again.

The person I have to say I idolise for their sporting achievements is Michael Jordan. To me he is the greatest athlete to have ever played sports. I do not think Pele, Jessie Owens, Usian Bolt (although he is making inroads), Roger Federer, Carl Lewis, Magic Johnson or Maradonna come close. The reason being that repeatedly and not just once, when he played for the Chicago Bulls and his team were down by a point with 3 seconds left on the clock the coach would call a time out or the ball would go out. Everyone knew who would get the ball, everyone was aware what would be attempted, especially the opponents. Yet somehow, Bulls would get the ball to Jordan who would dribble and fire a shot which would end up in the bucket. It was like witnessing the end of Teenwolf, over and over again but instead it’s an NBA playoff game and it’s real. It is that reason, the fact everyone knew he was going to get the ball, that fact he only had seconds to act and that he did it repeatedly that I rate him as the best sportsman ever.

And then I move onto the next person, and that is JK Rowling (Coldbrain I know you are either cracking up or rolling your eyes up as you read this). I cannot remember the amount of times I have just sat back and thought what she has produced is absolute mastery of imagination. It’s amazing. She has managed to take an idea from her imagination and constructed this story/saga full of intricate details that build upon the old cliché of good versus evil. It is like she had planned everything ten years before she started writing the first book. I could spend a month thinking up names and I would never come close to Sturgeis Podmore or Fenrir Greyback. It is all just amazing and I was a sceptic at the beginning who after reading the first two books still wasn’t feeling ‘it’, but by the third I was hooked. I am not sure if I will ever encounter something that contains so much imagination but then I never thought they’d be a better trilogy than Star Wars… and then Lord of the Rings came along.

Oh, I forgot, there was one other I look up to. He is Winston from Eastenders. How on earth does he manage to get by in life with his quarterly 3 second speaking appearances on Albert Square. I haven’t seen him on anything else, ever.

And in other news, I’m going to South Africa the end of this month for a month for an adventure. Well, I actually want to go whale watching so my entries may be a little thin over October.

World Cup ahoy!

I’m drinking four day old red wine at the moment, is it still ok to drink or am I going to be ill?

Anyway, I feel I should write this entry because I wrote about the failures of the England football team and the ‘wally with the brolly’ back in 2007. There is a piece of me that feels that had England qualified for Euro 2008 we may have escaped a recession (or at least soften its impact). My reasons being, firstly, people spend more on consumables when England qualifies. I am referring to alcohol, party and barbeque food. Money is constantly being pumped into the economy each week as the team progresses. The second reason is there is a good vibe around the place. And this vibe is what I have missed since Germany 2006.

So it is great that England are back at a major final, in fact the biggest sport competition in the world (yep, I even think it’s bigger than the Olympics). I’m looking forward for everyone to become obsessed with the World Cup. The training camps, what is eaten for breakfast and even the omens related to whether the home or away kit will be worn. The sun will be shining (hopefully) and every one will gather around in the streets to watch the matches (I wonder whether they’ll erect television screens up the City Centre like they did last time). What also heightens this anticipation is the fact that right now on the other side of the globe a Paddington’s Shadow doppelganger is currently feeling the same thing, apart from the Argentinean and French Paddington’s Shadows who are very worried as it seems their teams may not qualify.

Mixed up with all this eagerness, there is also some unfortunate realisation that there will be some d*cks out and about who have no qualms about trashing the place they are in because they disagree with a decision. Or go on a rampage against people who support a different team. The worst case I remember was watching on the news when Portugal had defeated England on penalties in Euro 2004 and a bunch of thugs gathered around a Portuguese pub (in Oxford, I think) and smashed the place to bits trying to get in. I am glad that it is a minority as those actions are pathetic.

The World Cup will rule the summer and I’m looking for 2010 and to see just how South Africa host the event and who will draw Brazil in the work’s sweepstake, still one thing is a bit of a downer on a personal level. Peru will definitely not be qualifying for the forthcoming tournament having lost to Venezuela 3-1 yesterday. They now are bottom of their qualifying group.

Right, I fancy listening to Guns ‘n Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle.

Can I get a remit?

You may have thought the last word was a typo and that I actually meant ‘Rewind’. You’d be wrong. This summer has flown by and most of it highly uneventful. Probably the biggest piece of news was Cristiano Ronaldo moving to Real Madrid for £80,000,000 odd. Even those that despise football would have read about it, even to gawp then gag ever so slightly at attempting to digest the fee paid for him.

Then something serious occurred when the Lockerbie bomber was released on compassionate grounds and this has sparked much debate both in this country and in the United States. I do not understand enough of everything that went on surrounding the release but one thing I am sure of is just how little I know about governmental power. Currently the press are commenting that it was a Scottish Parliament decision yet there is talk that Westminster was behind how it was decided.

This is where I enter uncharted waters. As far as I am aware the Scottish Parliament has the power to pass laws for Scotland other than those that concern Britain as a whole (I could be wrong here – Politics students rinse me if you must) in which case it is a decision made by Westminster. Westminster has said it was a purely Scottish Parliament decision and not theirs, yet it could be argued that the decision affects the whole of Britain and therefore collaboration sounds a more plausible approach. And then I get confused. Scotland can pass laws on some things but not on others. So where does this remit end? And where does the Welsh Parliament fit in and what power does it have?

My mind did not just stop there and it was beginning to annoy me. It seems I have clarity issues with who governs who in the United Kingdom but that was nothing to compare to the concept of Puerto Rico. This truly had me slapping myself for even daring to understand which government has the power over there. Puerto Rico is a little island off the US of A and is heavily influenced by the US but for some reason is not a US state. Now, when I mean heavily influenced, I am referring to it in a legitimate sense. I believe they openly assist in the election of the new, err, actually is it President or Governor? You see, it’s confusing. Why is it that Hawaii which is further away than Puerto Rico is a state and PR not?

Yes I will look them up (and Wikipedia will be my first port of call), however, I wanted to write about it and raise to myself if anything just how little I know about who has the power to control a country, even if it is another country. It is probably disjointed because of time and the battles and agreements that were constantly occurring meant that nothing was ever simple. And at the same time this complexity will assist some people, who will ever question a decision when they are not sure exactly who is responsible for making it because camp A can make choices about some things and Camp B does for others.

Ah pants, I just thought of another one. Is the moon North America’s because they stuck their flag in it first?

Conjugation for the Nation

So what I have I been spending the last week doing? Well, apart from work I have found myself scribbling down the regular Spanish conjugated verbs that end in ‘ar’, ‘er’ and ‘ir’. I have been writing these out as part of the learning process and objective to learn all the important regular conjugations off by heart. I had learned them once before, but if I don’t practice or use them regularly, they fall out of my head.

It’s important for me to learn as much Spanish as I can. Currently, I can get by. My ability to translate Spanish is good, I can definitely get by talking (although in-depth discussions about river dams leave me perplexed), my reading is ok and my writing is atrocious. It is the rules that I now crave to learn and etch into my subconscious mind. I want to construct perfect sentences and use appropriate tenses; otherwise I will never be able to move on.

I sat in a meeting room on my own three weeks ago, mulling it over. I have completed a Spanish course, I have read Exacto! A practical guide to Spanish Grammar and did all the exercises. Granted, that book was immense and opened up the rules of the Spanish language. But like everything we are not really good at or completely confident in, complacency takes over and after I’d passed my Spanish course and read Exacto, all the learning stopped. In my mind, I could hear this little voice saying You need to carry on learning Spanish, you need to push it. But I didn’t, I revelled in my accomplishments and put it to one side.

After a few months I reasoned with myself and concluded that I should not forget all that I had learned. I had been on a roll but momentum will stop if I do not help myself. So I decided to test myself and write out all the conjugated verbs of the word ‘Hablar’ whilst eating my Wheatabix. Surprisingly, I got almost all of them right when I went to check. I moved onto ‘Comer’ where I did ok in that to. I was going to be late for work but I really wanted to test myself on ‘Pedir’ so forgot about time and wrote down all the combinations I could remember. I did not do so well with that one but I was buoyed by the fact that most of what I’d learnt was still there.

The little voice came back and I agreed. I should not let the momentum roll to a standstill. As mentioned earlier, three weeks ago I looked up a private tutor on some webpage and went to the empty meeting room. I made the call and arranged private lessons.

Today I am reflecting upon my decision, it hurts the pocket book and yes it eats into ‘my time’ but I do feel like I’m learning. Also the fact I’m paying for it makes me motivated to move on, because if I don’t do the homework (yes, I get homework) then we spend the following lesson doing the homework when I should be learning something new.

Complacency looms, it is true. When I’m tired or have a headache it comes knocking on my door. In the meantime, when I see a scrap piece of paper lying around I start writing down regular verb conjugations to test myself. My hope is by the time complacency overpowers me and I quit everything I would have been able to learn some of the rules and verbs off by heart.

Drinky Drinky

I read an article about being healthy and that we should drink at least 5 pints of water a day. I quaffed at the thought whilst munching on a red apple. As if anyone could do something like that I said to myself when I realised that 5 pints isn’t actually that much when put into a different context. Drinking 5 pints of ale in a pub over the space of three hours isn’t entirely out of the question, especially when the company is good. But thinking about drinking 5 pints of water over the space of 8 hours had me feeling bloated. So what better way to find out than to try.

I brought in a pint glass to work and at 8:15 poured myself my first pint of water. I also made a cup of coffee to perk me up and sat at my desk surrounded by fluids. The first pint was going down quite a treat. I was habitually taking small sips and within the hour it was no more. The coffee too was gone within quick time. So around 9:30 I got back up and poured another pint and placed it back down on my desk.
This time the water didn’t go down so speedily, my whistle had been whetted enough so it stayed by my side annoying me as my mouse banged against it. Still, I persisted and by around 11:45 I’d finished my second pint of water. It was around this point I realised I really wanted to go to the toilet, so went. Upon my return I poured myself another pint of water and thought to myself, If I could drink at least a quarter by lunch then, when I get back there wouldn’t be so much to drink. It was all becoming a bit of a chore now.

When I got back I noticed I’d hardly touched the 3rd pint but still took a large swig. In fact I just kept on drinking until half of it was gone. Then I felt sick and bloated. Still I was happy that I was more than halfway in filling my daily water intake quota.

It was around 16:00 when I’d finished the 3rd pint. I’d been to the bathroom four times since and was beginning to grow a complex that people had noticed I kept leaving my desk. I had my argument though, should I be pulled up on it. I would tell whoever it was that I was listening to what nutritionists recommend and drinking 5 pints of water was essential. As a result, I had to go to the bathroom a lot. Simple as.

No one did so I began drinking my 4th pint during a meeting. Everyone had plastic cups whilst I chugged down my penultimate pint. I could feel the water bubbling in my stomach and rising to my chest. I suddenly felt a bit uneasy, and started breathing in a strange way so not to antagonise the vast amount of water my body was holding. Last thing I wanted was someone to say, ‘Mr Paddington’s Shadow, what do you think?’ And then I open my mouth and something like this happens (I love that show by the way.)

Luckily, no one asked me any questions and I refrained from speaking in fact when I got back to my desk I just sat there quietly and worked. I concluded that 5 pints of water is too much to drink for one person when they are not having fun.

In other news, may I point you in the direction of this blog. Here you find highly entertaining and funny podcasts that discusses the real important issues in life such as the lost lyrics from the Fresh Prince of Bell Air rap. Go now!

Au Natural

So, although my time has been spent of late being busy and at the same time feeling lethargic, I some how muscled in a visit to The Natural History Museum. I had never been before and quite frankly it is nothing short of world class, it makes the Millennium Dome look nothing more than a rather large circus tent. It is a spectacular place and I recommend you shove your little hinds over there.

The first zone I visited was the blue zone. Straight in there I was hunting out the dinosaurs and found myself walking through a corridor of stuffed birds. There were familiar ones like swans and peacocks but also some rather unusual ones like a black parrot and some kind of giant eagle. The eagle looked particularly menacing even though it was full of cotton wool. One swipe of those claws and I’d probably find that my eyes had been gouged out.

The actual dinosaur zone is pretty good. They have a lot of life size replicas such a Triceratops and the one that looks like a gigantic armadillo. You then sort of follow this trail and get to see a lot of actual bones and fossils from the Jurassic era. Some look like leftovers from an eaten family bucket of KFC but some leave you in wonderment. They had a display of some teeth that sparked of my imagination of just how big they were and how ferocious some dinosaurs were. For a brief moment I wondered what it would be like to be a palaeontologist but then Ross from Friends came into my head and it didn’t seem so good. The climax of the trail was to go past an animatronic of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. I wasn’t that bothered about seeing it because what I really wanted to check out was just past it.

I entered the Mammals area and it was here I saw the life like model of a blue whale. It was huge and looked immense. I couldn’t get my head around the fact it only fed on plankton as I walked around it looking in awe at its enormity. This to me was the highlight. The blue whale was surrounded by other large animals such as a hippopotamuses and the African Elephant. It was all just fascinating to look at and read about.

The other zones are impressive too. The green zone covers birds, ecology and creepy crawlies. There are fossil marine reptiles too which are pretty good to investigate but I found the different types of tortoise in the world the most interesting. The orange zone has a butterfly jungle and the Darwin Centre (but I didn’t go there because it was tours only). The red zone covered earth starting with ‘in the beginning’ right up until how humans are trashing the place. I also found myself engrossed in reading up on all the type of minerals earth has and where they can be found.

If you are ever in Londres, I seriously recommend visiting the Natural History Museum. It is an amazing place and it is absolutely free.

I’ve been asleep

Well, I would like to say that was why I haven’t written anything close to three weeks. Truth is; I’ve been slack. It’s not that I forgot about ol’ Talesofepoch but when it came for me to open the lid of the laptop nothing sprang to mind so I decided to take a little break from it.

I’ve been shattered of late, just been getting back from work and thinking ‘I can’t be arsed’, where a few entries ago I was writing about how I was on par in productivity as Dilbert on amphetamines. Still, life is good. I can’t complain, been reading some good books, listening to some radio and have been drinking Hoegarden like it was the only available fluid going. Oh, and those little French beers. I forget what they’re called but they always seem to pop up around summer, like bumble bees.

I’ve also started wearing those thin scarves that kind of make me look like an artist. I don’t mind that look (If I could get away with the clobber they wear in that BBC pre-Raphaelite programme, I so would). No question. I like that artist look but can’t really pull it off but an extremely toned down version is what I will have to live with. I started off with buying one on a Monday morning but by the following Monday I’d bought four scarves. Next month cravats, a pipe and a wallowing of the British Empire in its hey day.

Been reading Garbriel Garcia Marquez’s 100 Years of Solitude and enjoying it. In fact I love reading a book and drinking alcohol. Not to get wasted but to help relax me and thus settle into the story quickly. Writing about alcoholic beverages, I’ve also been getting into coffee liqueurs. My favourite at the moment is a McCloud, which consists of Drambuie and Teachers whisky. I recommend.

Other than that, not much has been happening of late, the weather has been a nightmare so much so that I have developed a conspiracy theory that Peter Mandelson threatened to knife Michael Fish if the BBC meteorologists didn’t dupe the country by declaring that we would be experiencing a heat wave this summer. Not sure how true this is. I recall only yesterday I walked across the car park and within a few seconds I was soaked.

Apart from that everything is doing alright, for now…

Skill Set

Every once in a while I’ll be staring at the computer, out of a window or at the pavement, thinking what am I actually good at. This usually happens after I’ve made a relatively large mistake, got my ego burnt or tried to be helpful but been nothing more than a bane.

It also happens when I think about what I am actually good for in the working world; what skills do I possess and which ones I haven’t got and wish for. My initial thought is that all my attributes are innate and quite frankly everything I have learned in this living in this world is nothing. Obviously this isn’t true and perhaps this first reaction is one of my weaknesses coming into. Still, I can’t deny that if I was to list my strengths a lot of them derive from what makes me, me. First off, one of my major strengths is that I find it very difficult to give up. I’m very dogged. If I was a premier league footballer, I’d be Michael Essien. As a result I tend to never give in easily when set a task. If barriers are put up I find ways to get around them. If it’s something I’m personally interested in then I am almost rude in getting something done. Alas, this strength is also a weakness because trying to get something done takes time and therefore sometimes it isn’t well spent and I end up celebrating a pyrrhic victory. Embarrassment, although I wouldn’t call it a weakness does affect me. Not many things get me embarrassed but those things that do make me recoil into myself and I just don’t do things and dwell on the event and occasion over and over again. It takes a long time for me to get back to being normal so I am relieved not many things get me embarrassed.

I’m not too hot on arithmetic either, or reading maps but do have pretty good ICT skills. I can rustle up a website and am relatively intermediate in most of the Office applications. I think this is linked to a general interest in technology and wanting to know how things work. I can spend hours learning a new application. Perhaps this has to do with the hours spent trying to work out a Rubix cube when I was younger. What I am not good at is demonstrating something at my desk, like when you are asked to bring up a document from the depths of a server just so it can be displayed to back up a comment that was discussed over coffee. I tend to sniff, stick my tongue out and try and find the Word wizard paperclip helper. It usually ends with me saying, It’s not where I thought it was, give me a couple of minutes and I’ll find it. I then spend a further five minutes getting rid of the paperclip helper.

One thing I thought I’d get out into the interweb world is confidence. I lack it quite a lot, I think. But sometimes I feel really confident, almost like untouchable. But these occasions are rare and the majority of time I feel that I don’t have any confidence, yet, just to add another layer of complexity, is that I do things that require confidence but don’t think it required any. For example, being put on the spot and having to greet and chaperone someone totally out of the blue. People will say to me, you must have a lot of confidence to do what you’ve done. I smile, but inside I think, seriously, I think I’ve got no confidence sometimes. Maybe I’ve got it but don’t realise that I have. In fact I’m not sure about this one entirely, so am opening it up here.

I am quite good at presentations though, and given enough time I can be darn hot at it. This was developed at school and something I’d always felt comfortable and actually thrived on. No question I’ve crashed and burned many a time when I’ve stood there, hand shaking thinking, I’ve totally forgotten everything. But then Alan Partridge snippets fall into my head like, I’d like a pint of bitter, and then everything seems to fall into place. At one stage I was giving so many presentations that I started to vibe off the crowd, knowing if they would dig any of my homemade dry japes I had thought of or if I should take this seriously.

Ok, enough of this self-appraisal, my glass of wine is empty and I need to go buy some toothpaste.

Energise

Hmm, I wonder if the title of this entry will attract any Star Trek geeks Googling various Trekkie sound-bites. Well the real reason for this title is because recently I’ve gained an abundance of energy for absolutely no where.

It kind of started mid-way through last week. I woke up in the morning and stared at the mirror and instead of seeing a scowling Popeye, I saw this calm looking expression across my face, in my head I said, so what are we going to do today? I thought I was suffering from some mental break down so turned away and legged it, hoping it was nothing but a dream. By mid-morning, I was accomplishing various things at work but also remembering to do the little things I always forget to help my day run that little bit sweeter. For example, spending a couple of minutes looking for a good radio station to listen too on LastFM or remembering to buy a packet of soft mints. I like to chew whilst I do stuff. When I realised I’d done all these, I thought to myself, damn, this must be mighty fine coffee to make me think this quick. I peered into my mug and alas there were only the dregs leftover from yesterday’s pouring.

This carried on for the rest of the week, even on Sunday night where I read until 2 am. It was the typical situation where you start reading to get tired, a chapter becomes mighty interesting, so you ride through the wave of tiredness until a second wind comes along. By then two more chapters have been read and only when you realise it’s late and that you’ll struggle to get up in the morning, you begrudgingly decide it is time to call it a day. Even when I closed my eyes I thought that I’d really find it difficult to get up in five hours. At 7am I sprung up like a freak in the morning, I didn’t even need the radio to assist me. Again I found myself staring at the mirror and a lively more assured version of me was looking back saying, it’s going to be sunny today, wear a t-shirt mate. This was getting odd.

Today I have pretty much done everything I wanted to accomplish and more, like go through and delete loads of emails I’ve stored throughout the years. I even managed to go jogging. But where is all this energy coming from? Nothing has changed, in fact I’m getting less sleep and eating less. I tried thinking about it but quite frankly after a few moments, I didn’t care. So what if I suffer a burnout some where, or all of a sudden collapse on the floor into a slumber. I hope it never ends because it feels good actually doing things and accomplishing them in decent time. And if this momentum continued for something like 6 months it would be ace.


In other news, someone sent me this link and thought I’d pass it on

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LcqFztb2QnA

I prefer this version but it was only after listening to this mix I noticed what Lily is actually chatting about. Poor girl.

Goodbye Sasquatch

He’ll never read this because he’s pretty lazy and he’s still finishing chapter 2 of Back to the Future: A Novel (he started last millennium). However, I feel compelled to write this. For today Sasquatch, my pal, has left the British Isles to seek adventure around the other side of the world.

This is a huge achievement, actually planning, funding and going through with buying a plane ticket for a round the world trip. He’s talked about it before, in fact incessantly, but doing it is something different. Totally. He’s off to Thailand, Oz, New Zealand, Fiji, Hawaii, then finishing in the US of A.

Relatively prepared he’s about to embark on this crazy journey of seeing different cultures, experiencing new cuisines, meeting different people who live life in a totally different way, he’s going to love it.

I’ve got a lot of admiration for what he has already done, and wish him all the best. I wish I could do what he is doing, but at this moment in time, I cannot. Odd thing is, I don’t think I’ll see Sasquatch for a long, long time. The travelling vibe suits his aura and I think he’ll stay in Oz for many years, in fact maybe even permanently. I’ll be checking out Neighbours now and then just to see if some guy, who looks like Jonny Rico’s bleached blonde friend from Starship Troopers, walks on and says, ‘alright geese, where’s Daphne?’


Good luck Sasquatch, and well done for actually going through with it.

Paper Mache?

Yesterday I bought The Guardian for the first time in a long time. Perhaps about four or five months had passed since I walked into Smiths or a mini-mart to buy a periodical. I think it was the death of Michael Jackson that had me ambling along to the newsagents to buy a paper. I was curious about the media reaction to his death and how it would be commented upon.

It struck me almost immediately after reading the stories about Michael Jackson that the newspaper offered almost nothing new (although Comment was good). The main story was just a regurgitation of what everyone already knew. And how did we all know? Because we are now highly-skilled technological freaks, who log on and start searching for crap when a big story breaks and no longer wait until the next day to read about it in the paper, The Guardian et al cannot compete in paper format.

I think it was some website called TMZ who broke the news that MJ had died. This website is allegedly well known for breaking Hollywood stories into the public domain. And as everyone heard the news, probably via radio or television went straight to the interweb to find out more information. Why? Because the interweb has more opinions and resources than News 24 or Sky News do. We have to wait for those channels to tell us the news, whereas when we log onto Google and run a search we begin our journey to find our ‘own’ news. We are in a sense conducting investigative journalism, perhaps in a crude way, it could be argued. But take the example, of someone hearing breaking news on the radio, dashes to their laptop and runs a search. Finds TMZ at the top of the search rankings which discloses the details that Michael Jackson had a cardiac arrest, then this person has a blog and posts the news and the link on there. This contributes to the feeding and momentum of the story which can be updated within minutes whereas a periodical takes considerably longer. I mean Google themselves thought they were under attack because so many searches were conducted regarding the Prince of Pop.

So where does this leave the good ol’ paper. Well I think they are in a bit of trouble. Everything written on Saturday had already been covered meticulously by other interweb sources which meant all they could really do is stitch together the pieces of info that the readership already knew about. I don’t want to come over as pessimistic about the livelihood of newspapers, they all do have their websites which are updated frequently, but I feel newspapers must look at how people react when big news occurs and that repeating what has already been covered perhaps isn’t the best tact.

One thing I did like was the Comment section, and here is where I think newspapers can excel. Having people ‘in the know’ write their opinions on the matter and discuss how this affects the country, the world even. It’s that sort of tone I think newspapers need to adopt throughout their column inches, pushing journalist’s interpretations at the forefront and backed up with clear facts. They do this already, granted, because just by the nature of writing something they are expressing their opinion in some form. I just feel it should be done more.

I also accept that it is done in the supplementary material. I have noticed an increase in supplementary material in weekend papers just by the sheer weight of picking up one of those bad boys. I feel sorry for those paperboys and girls who have to deliver five copies of The Sunday Times. Having sections such as Life, Money, Cars, Technology, Mid Morning Brunch, How To Live Your Life does include an abundant amount of opinions but I just don’t think it’s topical news and that’s the lifeblood of a newspaper, surely? If I want to read about cars, I’ll just buy AutoTrader magazine, or even better visit the website.

Perhaps, I’m writing rubbish, I don’t know. But something just didn’t seem right when I spent £1.70 just to read everything I have already read elsewhere (excluding the Comment section) and for free.

In other news, I’ve started watching The West Wing and I am loving it. It makes working in an office look cool.

The Quentin Thomas Effect

Some of you probably know who he already is; I didn’t, although I should as I’ve seen his name at least seventy times.

I was sitting in the Slug ‘n Lettuce today, sipping on Peroni, when I started to think about how much nothing has happened this year. It just seems to be plodding by. I took another sip, and thought that perhaps this was actually true. This year, I’ve not really done anything other than attend work, do work, go off on holiday for a bit and then return. Nothing has changed, compared to 2008, and perhaps that was just a continuation of how things were in 2007.

Air, came on in the pub, and I sat back, thinking, that truly nothing has moved on. It didn’t make me glum, but I thought the purpose of living was to advance? Well, maybe that isn’t exactly true because, for some people, it is literally to try and stay alive. It still though rested uncomfortably with me. All around looked and felt the same. Even the blaring of Kelly Rock the Stars had me thinking that there was a possibility that it was even the same when that tune was first heard by my ears. My Peroni was now half empty.

I sniffed and thought about it a bit more. In fact I started spinning the pepper pot in front of me when I decided that this year has been a bit of a blur. Wasn’t it snowing the other month (February)? Then, it dawned that things had changed, I have. I’ve managed to save up some cash money to put my estate into some sort of order instead of being in disrepute. I’m more confident in my job now having grown into it. I generally feel a bit more stable. I have carved out a path using the sabre of determination and it’s there in front of me should I want to start running that way (I always run and never walk). Even in my appearance I’ve changed, I’ve developed red eye due to a bad contact lens (everyone now thinks I’m stoner).

I should explain who Quentin Thomas is, in case you don’t know, (Coldbrain, I wonder if you got it straight away?). Quentin Thomas is the president of the BBFC and issues the age ratings for all films that are screened in the UK. Quentin’s name always appears just before you see a film in the cinema. No shit, he’s always there. It’s always the same black background with a shaky signature informing the viewer he’s approved this film rating.

And for every film I’ve seen ranging from Gremlins 2: The new Batch to Angels & Demons I had never realised, never really ‘looked’ just like I had not realised I’ve grown, altered morphed into something different than last year, but because I stare in the mirror every morning with a Mac 4 in one hand, I’m oblivious to it. It’s these little alterations in life that contribute to something but I don’t notice because I forget, can’t be arsed or am too scared to, but they are always there. I see the clear base of the glass as I take a large swig of Peroni. To me, this is the Quentin Thomas effect. Not noticing the little things even though they are there to be clearly seen.

Sitting in the Slug ‘n Lettuce made me realise actually spending time to think about yourself and where you are going, is a good thing, isn’t it? I mean, I will carry on living regardless but highlighting major fuckups and learning from them is a pretty good way of avoiding them the next time. Also, you don’t feel like nothing has changed whereas the surroundings remain the same.

I finished my Peroni.

Appetite

There’s something that I don’t understand. Why is it that relatives always want you to eat so much that you’re left unable to move and wishing some crane would come and pick you up?

When I was younger I used to dread meal times because I’d be given the largest plate of spaghetti and feel that I have to finish it. My aunt or whoever would look at me ever so often to check that I was consuming the half tonne of pasta. If it looked like I was struggling she would holler that I was ill or that perhaps some fever had affected my appetite. Twenty minutes later and I’m slumped on the chair just like Mojo the monkey from The Simpsons, barely able to breath because my body has shut down virtually all functions in order to digest the food I’d just consumed. It is only then that relatives are content that you are a healthy growing boy, although to me this is just irony at its best.

As I got older I started saying ‘no’ to portions that could feed a small family and I’d receive a scornful look. It wasn’t one of annoyance but more of disappointment, both in me and at their perceived failure to nourish me. With my normal portion of food I’m quite content but because I’m a fast eater I always finish first. Yet this prompts a nudge followed by large spoon of sustenance shoved in my direction. I raise my hands in protest and I get that look again, before some non-verbal communication enacted by patting my stomach ends the issue for the time being. In fact, I realised that in order to avoid the spoon scenario altogether I needed to lay my knife and fork down very carefully so that it makes no noise.

Recently I caved in and remembered just what it’s like to feel like Mojo again when I was visiting a relative. I had a huge piece of Shepherd’s Pie and scoffed it all like a famished dog. I think it was all gone in about four minutes. I forgot to lay the fork down carefully and it made a rattling sound on the plate. I was promptly asked if I wanted another piece. I still felt hungry and so nodded in agreement. What I was expecting was the final leftover piece, but instead, a whole new pie appeared from the oven and was given a piece larger than my original. Still I felt that I should at least attempt to eat it. Forty minutes later, I finished and I wanted to go to sleep. I’d not felt that full in years. I was practically waddling to the sofa and kept thinking to myself surely this isn’t healthy.


Thing is, I’m pretty certain that when I’m older this is exactly what I will do. In fact I better start taking notes, a male of 5’10 stature requires one plate the size of Ben Nevis. When the next generation arrives at my gaff I’m sure I’ll be there ready to dish out the food and will give ‘the look’ should someone refuse an extra dollop of goulash. It’s weird but I guess that’s what happens.

In other news, never go out wearing just one contact lens.

Chilling & Consideration

¿Hola, como estas? I’m currently chilling in Madrid for a week. I thought some time off work would do me some good and reinvigorate me to concentrate on things I like. At present I’m sitting in that very Spanish institution, Starbucks, looking over all the people scurrying around below in a place called Sol.

Anyway, enough of that, what I really wanted to write about was the film ‘Yes Man’. Before I’d watched the film I referred to it with a Jamaican accent and thought it wasn’t worth watching at all. In fact, after I checked it out I thought it was quite a liberating film and also made me think of what on earth would happen if I applied that kind of logic to my everyday life. Half way through the film I started to think that I don’t get many choices where it involves a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ answer. I was being stupid however, of course there are, but what I seemed to do is just proceed with out actually thinking about them. Like, I always avoid the sandwiches at work or when I go for a walk at lunch it is always the same route, even if someone says ‘shall we try this way’. I tend to say ‘nah, let’s go this way’. How rubbish is that, but I don’t really think about it. Or when I see three drains adjacent to one another, I always avoid them. I’ve done this for so long that I can’t remember why and it has become part of my default setting, along the lines of: 3 x drains + 1 x Mr P. Shadow = bad luck.

But why do I avoid the three drains? I’ve forgotten, other than somewhere down the line someone once said that if you walk over three drains you will suffer misfortune. Thing is I can’t really remember the actual tale or who told me it. Yet, when I see three drains I tend to do this really odd skip, pivot and bounce to avoid them. It’s quite a street dance performance but I step around them with serious intent. I know this is genuine characteristics of someone with obsessive compulsive disorder but in an odd way I kind of like avoiding those drains. Obviously I want to avoid the bad luck which will strike down on me should I one day step all over them, but also, I want to continue this lore that I know thousands of others abide by. And how do I know this? Well because every time I’m up town I see people doing their own little hop, skip and jump to avoid those three drains. It’s like we are all strangers but are all part of this subculture where somewhere down the line someone told us the story of how treading on three drains brings untold misery and so we avoid them at all cost. They even do it in Madrid. Perhaps there’s a wikipedia page about it all but I can’t really be bothered to check but at least I’ve now considered something that I just do generally without thinking, thing is, I’m quite happy to just continue doing it so really I haven’t changed anything at all. Ah well.

Learning the Forgotten

It’s a skill that I have yet not become even remotely good at; in fact, I’m utterly rubbish at it. Although, even remembering to (or discovering) the importance of the art of learning the forgotten is a positive step. What I mean by this is learning something ages ago, storing it in your mind and then consequently forgetting it about five minutes later. Some of it is mundane, like buying a packet of Pork Scratchings back in 2000 and noting like they taste of gone off tripe with salt sprinkled on them. Only for last week to find myself in Sainsbury’s noticing a packet of Pork Scratchings hanging in between the wine and the cans of lager. Hmm, they look interesting, I wonder what they taste like? Next thing I’m doing is throwing in a packet into my basket and outside popping one of those dry curly pieces of saturated fat into my mouth. Rancid. And then I get the flash back of the first time I tasted them, after buying them from some garage outside Birmingham somewhere. Why didn’t I remember?

And then there’s things that help me with work and everyday life which I should of learned at school (and quite possibly did but forgot), like when is it appropriate to use semi colons. I learned about its use in 2006 when an employee of the local library picked up something I’d wrote, which I had left behind. As she ran towards me she must of glanced at what I had written because as she handed me back the piece of paper she told me, you need some semi colons in there. To which I replied that I haven’t got a clue about when I should use one. She then spent five minutes with me, explaining that it should be used when you want more emphasis than just a comma. Yet, I can tell you now I have pretty much totally forgotten about semi colons and where they should be applied. I just go off tapping away and inserting commas and full stops where I see fit and never consider that perhaps a semi colon should be used, until that is, someone points it out to me and I say, oh yeah, but inside I’m beating myself up for not learning/remembering hard enough the time the kind lady in the library explained it all.

Also, there are the aspects of emotion that I forget, even though at the time, it felt so good that I said to myself that I’d never forget how that feeling was. Only to forget, until I feel it again and it’s like bumping into an old chum, it all comes flooding back. A most recent example was the feeling of accomplishment. When I was being overwhelmed at work I was just sinking into the mire and so was beginning to think like this, starting to be closed minded as my body shutdown what it considered superfluous activities in order to save energy to get things done. And I remember thinking, this is crap, I don’t like feeling like this. Yet I have been in this situation and felt this way before. And when I finally complete my tasks and projects there is this superb feeling of elation of finishing but also at conquering what I thought was too difficult. I become reenergised and I note that the thing did not break me and so my capacity for accommodating stress has expanded a little further. I need to remember this because although I’m not out of the mire at the moment, I have one more big week and then I genuinely hope it will all be over and I can get that feeling of accomplishment.

But there are others, like telling someone who really deserves it to piss off. Regardless of the context of the situation, if someone deserves those words bequeathed to them, then when it’s delivered you should get a feeling of satisfaction that outweighs any repercussion. Whether it be in front of a tribunal or a severe head smacking, if they deserve it then you should still feel that justification for telling them so. Sometimes I forget that feeling of justification and satisfaction because of the context that surrounds the situation and the over riding notion, that we should not swear to each other because we are adults. Yeah right. I’ve told local hoodies to do this, as well as work colleagues (although years ago) and when I’ve said it I remember it feeling right. To me, it was a concise way of communicating what I wanted them to do and I shouldn’t forget that sometimes people need that conveyed.

So now I have discovered about learning the forgotten I’m hoping I can start to develop the skill of wrenching out stuff I learned ages ago and not have to learn them all over again. Or, what is more likely, that I will forget about this all and learning about the forgotten will sound nothing more than a 90’s Britpop album title. I guess that’s why I’ve posted it on the blog, before I forget!

In other news, I discovered this song for the first time on Friday afternoon. I immediately fell in love with it and knew my weekend was going to be good. Right, I'm off to get high on Peruvian coffee.

Lumley's Law

I thought it was really good to see a government back down from their original stance of not allowing Gurkha’s who had fought for Britain before 1997 UK residency. What I did pick up from all this was that you need a celebrity in order to do (or at the very least significantly contribute) to a campaign, otherwise the campaign only seems to get so far before it just loses a motion or is suffocated by other things happening. In the case for the Gurhka’s, they had a beautiful woman who was able to speak with a resonance that compelled even the politicians themselves.

It seems sad but in order for the government to hear you, you need a celebrity to attract attention. So, does this mean that those who wish to have speed cameras taken down should contact, The Hoff? I mean, what better ambassador? He could drive down the street in the sleek black car, whilst Kit blared out that all speed cameras should be taken down. When backed into a corner during a fierce debate with some dodgy politician, he could just whisper something into his black digital Casio and all of a sudden – in extremely slow motion and with a bionic sound effect – Kit could come crashing through the window and pull up in front of The Hoff before the both sped off down the M1.

Or, what about those that campaign against Airport expansion or construction, they could get Mr T. He hated flying, so surely he has no interest in airports being constructed. For every speech he did they could have an opening sequence of the various ways the rest of the A-Team managed to get him on a plane. Ranging from the spiking of his smoothie to the time he was somehow tricked into actually getting on a plane without him noticing. Also, all his speeches would be concise and to the point. And if any one disagreed I’m sure they’d face a knuckle sandwich. There could be special appearances from Murdoc or Face (I found out his full name was Templeton Peck the other day and cracked up laughing) to reaffirm the message.


I’m not trying to trivialise those that campaign because it’s something I feel strongly about (Although my last two paragraphs have suceeded in doing so). Yet, it seems that in order to be heard, the importance of a celebrity is weighty. Joanna Lumley also happens to show humility in defeat (when they originally lost the decision), never gave up hope and dealt with everything with aplomb. However, if she wasn’t there still attracting people after the original defeat, would it have been overturned?

In other news, Coldbrain sent me a link to a sighting of Mr Paddington himself (click on Street View). I’m now hopping onto a train to see if he wants to go for a pint.