And like a flash, he was gone.

"The intrinsic truth of evolution is demonstrated, infallibly, by harmony"

Band: The Low Anthem

Album: "Oh My God, Charles Darwin"

That is all.

Geek meets chic

Go here and check out great photographs from Nasa.  What are you still doing here, I said go.

Link to pretty pictures

Waiting for golf.

(thanks to the Guardian - http://bit.ly/CX2tQ)

Spear and magic helmet!

No particular reason for this - I just like it immensely and want to have it on my blog.

Enjoy.

Where the hell have YOU been?!

Smell the Glove?  It's sexy, not sexist.

Short answer is "None of your business".

Slightly longer answer for those of you that like details is, "Do I know you?  None of your fucking business, you prying fucknut".

So, that' the 2 month sabbatical from blogging cleared up neatly, I feel.

I'm not a qualified teacher, as one might might've expected by this stage in 2009.  In fact, on the contrary, I've dropped out of the course. There is the opportunity to finish matters next Spring but that is a decision for the future.  Currently, I am not employed (and not particularly employable either, I fear).  Fortunately, Cumbria is blessed with a variety of conurbations so someone is bound to come knocking any day soon.

In other news, my ipod is dead.

Oh, and I'm on Twitter quite a lot.  If you haven't already, come join the party - I am Pettsvaldo there.

Body-poppin'

Been so busy and so miserable - hormones, weather, stress, gene-pool, whatever - I am a maudlin muddy funkster

And these represent two of the many reasons I've not posted for a while.

However, earlier on this make me moderately less miserable for about 3 minutes and 22 seconds...

Who hell you?

Can't believe it's been over 2 months since I put anything in here.  Ho hum.

Anyway, I've been under the cosh, PGCE-wise - hence silence.

Was on a placement 2 days a week in Autumn term, as well as having a couple of essays to write.

Then, Xmas came along to turn my head.  Kids had a whale of a time (though fortunately, not actually a whale itself - then again, if I could swap what they did get for a single, small whale I suspect it'd take up less room in the bombsite where my house used to reside).

And now I've got a couple more essays to write before next week.

Oh, and my fulltime placement starts on 19th January (that's eight weeks) - should really have some planning done for that.  However, I have not, as yet.  Not entirely my fault but I am, I admit, complicit to a certain degree.

So, excuses made, brief catch up on my life dispatched.  Back to your business now, nothing to see here.

Close your eyes, America - go back to sleep

"Fuck you! Death to your dreams and hopes!"

As the USA election sharabang finally pulls over to the side of the redundancy turnpike, I am reminded of Bill Hicks and his colourful rendition of the British general election of April 1992.

Bill Hicks - 06 - Vote for Labour.mp3

Here's hoping, eh?!

Nothing but essays, baby

This is dull as you like.  And extremely self-indulgent into the bargain because none of you are going to want to read them.

However, I'm doing it anyway - here are links to PGCE Assignments I've written thusfar (and uploaded to Google Docs).

For some reason, some of the jpegs that were in the original Word Docs have not uploaded properly but since no-one is going to read them, I don't foresee that being too big a deal.  If, by some chance, you wish to see them unadulterated, just say so in the comments and I'll be more than happy to email you them, geek. 

Education Studies

Foundation Subjects (and RE)

Literacy

Numeracy

Science

Reflective Practitioner

Enabling E-Learning

Global Citizenship

I've got one more to write so, if you're all very good, I may treat you to additional output at a later date.  Do try to control your excitement - remember, stiff upper lip and all that.

In my mind, it's TC that's flying the chopper.

"I'm on the top of the world, looking down on creation..."

So you've all heard of Yann Arthus-Bertrand, right?  Of course.

Well, I've just been alerted to his website (link).  The photographs therein are truly magnificent so I urge you to close the door, ignore the phone and indulge yourself for a little while...

(thanks to kottke.org for the link)

This is vocal range, Mariah!

Maybe it's because I'm a little giddy from lack of sleep but this has had me laughing almost to the point of tears



(thanks to Geekologie for the link)

Third Degree Cern

I just want to make sure I've got this handy so that I can remind myself what the bejeesus is going on down at the LHC...

Long time listener, first time poster

Jon Stewart is, on the whole, a funny guy. Sarah Palin is, on the whole, not my choice for a new generation. That's all I've got to say about that.

To everybody out there trying to make a difference in your community, FUCK YOU!

MVP, My Lord, MVP

Thank you, Michael.

Nice 'n' Spicy Nik Naks, these ain't

I'm gonna git yo, sucka

I've tried out some of the products from The Chilli Pepper Company (based in Cark) and I can assure you they're perfectly capable of putting a rod right through you. They've got a special liking for the Bhut Jolokia pepper, which is a real rocket in your pocket.

And whilst I'm more of an enthusiastic amateur, rather than a committed professional, when it comes to Scoville related antics, I'm more than a little keen to take Satan's Ashes for a ride.

Then again, isn't all this (spicy) hot food business all just cock waggling of the most primeval sort; or am I'm wrong again - do women get competitive about phals?

Anyway, if you're planning on travelling up to Levens Hall for the inaugural English Chilli Festival, give me a shout - we'll go "down down down" (copyright Johnny Cash) together.

Harmony me up, Landlord

Nadal; capybara. Capybara; Nadal.

I'm not envious of his skill, his strength, his physique, his money, his success or his overwhelming appeal to the female demographic; I'm just envious of the fact that he's an example of the world's largest rodent.

The livin' truly is easy

There's something about gender politics within this picture; I'm not equipped to pursue it.

A quick snapshot of summertime in a small childs life - makes you wish you were 3 again, no?

Mess with the bull, you get the horns everytime

It's not a career, you see - it's a vocation

I think, if I continue to work at my reflective practices, then one day I can be this focused on the art of learning.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely

Smell the Glove

Quite amusing looking book, specifically for those of you struggling with young children and itchy to plot your revenge.


Thanks to Geekologie for the link

Migration is a two way street

Get the projector out - I've got some lovely slides of the holiday.

The Bassenthwaite Ospreys have returned

Excellent.

Make it so, my Cumbrian Lieutenants...

I really wish this would make even the slightest impact but it won't, as I only have six readers and not a single one of them actually lives in the South Lakes area. Ho hum!

Still, I like the technology of embedding these sorts of things. And I also like the premise of the eventful website so I guess that makes it relatively satisfying in its own right.

Anyway, regardless of where you're at - why not add your vote anyway; then come and see Mr Jonathan Coulton at the Brewery Arts Centre or some such.

Unless, of course, you're fiendishly intelligent and work out that you may be able to get him to play somewhere else (perhaps nearer to you) if you vote for a different location - I'll just have to trust you not to betray me in that manner.

Events by Eventful

Oh, and here's a link to him, playing "Still Alive" on BBC Scotland, introduced (spookily, given my recent post about the "Kendal Calling" festival) by the glorious Frank Sidebottom.

It's all kicking off in Kendal...

Hold the front page.

I don't really know what to say about this but I felt sure it needed to be posted herein.

Blu tack, Dreadlocks and blood on the track (just full of a good length)

If you've got five minutes to spare, you could do worse than watch this. If you find that you disagree midway through you can, of course, stop watching it and save yourself, oooh, about 2 to 3 minutes. But you could probably work all that out yourself. Anyway, give it a look - I laughed on at least four separate occasions (FACT).




Thanks to The Corridor for pointing it out.

Dizzee Rascal reminds me of Keyop from "Battle of the Planets"

This could, let's be honest, be a photo of anywhere, couldn't it?

As a resident in the South Lakes and a considered appreciator of popular culture, it would be remiss of me if I did not draw all your attentions to the biggest festival in the Cumbrian hinterlands - Kendal Calling.

Occurring at a place called Prizet (quality name), which is only 3 miles from Oxenholme Station (Gateway to the Lakes, TM) on 1-3 August 2008, it should be an excellent diversion to break up the monotony of the long summer vacation. Plus it's only 55 sheets for the whole weekend - cheap as ethnic potato wedges 'n' a salsa dip.

Chirp! Whirr! Chirp! Bug Off

Dizzee Rascal is confirmed, as are SFA (OK!). Also, local indie dreamboats, British Sea Power are going to pop their heads around the door, along with a bunch of people I've not heard of but will, I'm sure, know one end of a stringed instrument from the other.

More importantly, however, the legend that is Frank Sidebottom will be on hand to tickle ribs and split sides. The possibility of monging out to a soundtrack of the mirth-filled utterances of that particular balloon-headed, northern genius will be guaranteeing my attendance, I can assure you.

Fancy coming along?

Oh go on...

Cheers Banger

Fetch!

I know I'm late in responding to the news about Marcus Trescothick but I didn't want the moment to pass completely without making note of it.

I don't think there's a single batsman I've enjoyed watching as much as Banger over the last 20 years - his slog sweeps will remain a thing of eternal beauty in my memory, I hope.

If sport is a metaphor for life, then this is death. Metaphorically.

And that makes me appropriately sad.

Let the dog see the rabbit, Marlene

Humorous by-lines on a postcard to our usual address.

I've already mentioned Bon Iver in a previous post, I know, but I don't feel I gave due weight to the level of fucking excellence that I'm experiencing in his album.

It is, quite simply, making me ache. In a literal sense - I'm feeling those dreadful yet exquisite nausea/panic attacks that you get when you first fall in love with someone.

I shit you not. That is how beautiful it is.

Buy him, revel in him and, in due course, revere him.

Bon Iver - For Emily, Forever Ago

There is a light that never goes out

Darth Vader on bass; he wrote this.

What's just as comforting is the fact that at my advancing age, there still resides within me just enough of the little boy I once was to get titillated by this image.

I'm not dead yet, only dying.

Reasons and ephemera.

a mean, green, pustule-generating machine.

Not been here for a while - sorry.

Both kids had chicken pox, which came right on the back of a fairly continuous bout of cold-tennis between the two of them.

R.I.P.

Then, my wonderful Grandad passed away and I traveled down to Cornwall to attend the funeral.

So, for a few weeks there, it was little more than keeping going really. The only excuse I now have is inordinate amounts of work on my plate, mainly from the course (and, naturally, exacerbated by the few weeks I had out of the loop - schedule pile up; suffice to say that my diary/work planner is now a mess of rewritten plans).

Anyway, here's something new I learnt today...

Whenever I feel a sneeze urge, I try to look at a light source in order to set off the desired blow-out. I always assumed that this was a technique that anyone (and probably everyone) relied on but I was wrong in this assumption.

(God, when will I learn on that "assumption" thing? Never, I assume.)

Apparently, "sun sneezers" (who have genetically inherited the photic sneeze reflex) only account for between 17% and 35% of the population. This happens by virtue of the proximity of the nerve that controls sneezing (trigeminal nerve) to the optic nerve - in some people, overstimulation of the optic nerve "rubs off" on the trigeminal nerve (in the same way that data cables can "crosstalk") and the body mistakenly responds by sneezing.

So, the bottom line is that it's an error in my physiological make-up - but a fortuitous one.

I like all of this information.

On the music-front, I'm completely swamped with fucking ace new tunes at the moment. Or, at least, I pretty sure it's ace - I'm so completely swamped with it that I've not really had enough time to listen to all of it more than once.

Anyway, Jonathan Coulton is very entertaining (thank you Mat) - wordy, arch lyricism. I'm also grateful to Alex for pointing out that Gary Louris has a new album out, Vagabonds (Gary Louris, for those of you not in the know was the lead singer with the Jayhawks - indeed he may well still be, when he's not putting out solo material) - it seems completely up to standard. I'm also blown away by Devon Sproule's most recent album, "Keep Your Silver Shined" (quirky voice, Jazz/Folk sort of thing) and by Bon Iver's album, "For Emily, Forever Ago" (Iron & Wine is a good reference point though not fair on either party).

And, lastly, here are some pictures of the young 'uns from last month...




They don't need bylines.

Who's that trip, trap, trotting over my bridge (or was it the middle eight)?

If only we could work out that the website's called Daytrotter, not Daytripper - fool.

So I've got a link for you; to a website about music...

It's a really interesting read, just for the prose within the articles. However, much more than that, there's access to live tracks from all sorts of artists (established, up-and-coming and, to my eyes, plain unknown).

My understanding of the premise is that all these bands have rolled up to this little studio, recorded a set of four tracks and then had a little chat. All cool, all quality entertainment and all free to download.

If you're at a bit of a dead-end music-wise, you can do worse than go there, trawl the archives and pick someone you've never heard of to give them a listen. Suddenly, your dead-end rematerialises as a glorious, sun-drenched thoroughfare, taking you, efficiently and in good spirits, to a land of new music (stay OFF the crack - Ed)

Oh, the name of this website - Daytrotter

(thank you to the Manchester Guardian for this vision)

Don't make me angry, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

There's no question in my mind - Germaine's still got it.

So it's been a while since I posted last - no doubt, you'll be expecting a real build up of pressure in the old "hilarious outpouring of bile" sac? Eh? Oh.

Just as well, as I'm all out of pressure, built-up or otherwise.

And to compensate for the commensurate lack of bile, I deferring today to Ms Greer, who has the capacity to generate heaps of bile at will. As I'm sure you're fully aware, she's a real go-to lady when it comes to editorials, commentaries, forthright sound-bites, etc - any situation that requires enflaming with a poorly conceived torrent of invective, designed solely to maximise the importance of gender issues therein, Ms Greer is poised to answer the call. And may Ganesh bless her for it - it's a thankless task and I'm just glad I'm not expected to step up to the plate with the regularity that she does.

Anyhoo, I'm not always a big fan of her diatribes. This time, however, I'm right with her on the protest march...

Mental health and it's manifold manifestations (hoo-hah!) is not a subject to be dismissed without due consideration but, in this instance, I feel Germaine has got a serious point - I mean, how the fuck did getting angry suddenly become a reasonable justification for filicide?

Get Carter

I got solutions to all your problems—I got 'em right here in my big, hairy ballsack

I love swearing, me. And I have a bit of a soft spot for liberalism too.

If you share those sensibilities, check out this Onion article.

If you don't, what the hell are you doing reading my blog you shitwipe? Hehehe.

Who will rid me of this turbulent year?

Form an orderly queue, I going to make you all look very silly.

The year is drawing to a close, as one would expect around December-time.

This is traditionally the time when opinion-makers and people with an inflated sense of their own worth cobble together a review of the preceding twelve months in a desperate attempt to mask their lack of creativity whilst they attend mirthless, tepid puddles of festive indulgence or, latterly, are focused on the dilemmas posed by purchasing the worthless for the ungrateful.

And since I have my own (albeit completely unread) blog to populate, I feel no compunction whatsoever in foisting a hastily put together resumé of some of the things that have briefly held my attention during 2007...

Album

I did enjoy the Super Furry Animals album, "Hey Venus", an inordinate amount earlier in the year.

I also arrived late of the scene with Midlake's album, "Trial of Van Occupanther", which I liked a lot.

And, coming up on the inside towards the end of the year was Tinariwen's "Aman Iman". Imagine a bunch of African nomadic musicians trying to reinvent R 'n' B, sub-Saharan style - Niger Delta Blues, perhaps. The quality belies the prosaic ineptitude of that description, honestly.

However, head and shoulders about all other contenders stands the sublime offerings of Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, "Raising Sand". It's just lovely - classic interpretations of simple songs, enlivened with stunning vocals and a light touch in the production suite providing precisely the right amount of depth, instrumentally. I ruddy loves it, I does.

Book

I enjoyed reading "Q" by Luther Blissett (although that wasn't a 2007 vintage) - Umberto Eco-lite; just clever enough to make you feel all proud of yourself for keeping up, but not so clever that you've no idea what just happened and have to keep an open dictionary next to the book whilst you're reading.

I also took a voyeuristic pleasure in watching Richard Dawkins opening up several cans on our religious brethrin, with "The God Delusion" (ditto, methinks).

On reflection, however, my favourite read of the year was Martin Amis', "House of Meetings". Back on stylistic form; back on a reinterpretation of his "end of the world" dialectic; back in my consciousness for the first time in a long time.

Sport

My favourite moment was Fernando Torres scoring his first goal for Liverpool - against Chelsea on 1 September 2007. It was a classy finish and suddenly opened my eyes to the (brief, but enchanting) vision of this elegant and deadly striker helping Liverpool to, finally, succeed in the Premier League.

Landscape

The drive from Ambleside to Keswick is pretty bloody impressive. In particular, the last mile or two when you have Helvellyn looming over you one minute, then Blencathra the next. Fair sent a shiver down my spine, it did.

Some people call it "Saddleback". They're wrong.

Film

"Sunshine" was visually impressive, if vacuous in terms of plot. "Walk the Line" was worthy and competently performed, but didn't grab my heart as I hoped it would. "History of Violence" was stomach-turning and actually made me feel a little scared (these being both good and bad characteristics at the same time). Favourite of the year, though is "Apocalypto". Simply, it was compulsive viewing and, despite being directed by that hateful twat, Mel Gibson, I couldn't tear my eyes from the screen from first second to last.

Television

Don't really catch a lot of TV but, naturally, I always make time to see the "Dawson's Creek" repeats on Five US.



If there are any other headings you want me to ramble on beneath, please put your request in the comments and I'll make up something for you...

Get up, stand up

Yes, I do love myself; but not as much as I love Planet Earth.

It's my considered opinion that most people don't really give a rat's ass about petitions; particularly not, say George Bush or Wen Jiabao. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that completing most petitions is no more and no less than a complete waste of time and, generally, represents an indulgent act of internal self-congratulation, rather than a conscious desire to effect change.

However, we may as well sign this one, I reckon - it is the planet we're talking about, after all (and with a ringing endorsement like that, I feel certain that the telephone call from Jonathan Porrit, offering me a job as his personal spokesman, is guaranteed, toot sweet)...

Click here to show you share Al Gore’s dedication to himself this wonderful world we’re despoiling

(Thanks to my good friend, Matt Hocking, at Leap Media, for highlighting this one).

Ain't no average groupie.

As those of you who know me will attest, not much cheers me up. However, this clip has succeeded where pictures of labradors, the love of a good woman and fortuitous twists of financial good fortune have failed...



(NB - the love of a good woman has, naturally, cheered me up repeatedly and the above comments were strictly for comic effect - sorry Nadira, x)

Unsubscribe

Check out this Amnesty video - it's tough.

Amnesty International - Unsubscribe
Uploaded by firat

And that's an order.

Domed, domed I tell ya

Laserdisc, you say? Format of the future, you say?

Once upon a time, a weak-willed boy called Kristian was press-ganged into doing some high-level geekiness for the 1986 reinterpretation of the Domesday project.

Following a breathtaking lack of interest (globally, nationally or. even more damning in a county of spectacularly unexceptional news, locally) and the almost immediate obsolescence of the technology involved in recording it, this plutonium-grade example of my total lack of cool as a teenager was buried, seemingly never to be rediscovered.

Unfortunately, this did not factor in two things: one, the persistence and diligence of the National Archive in pursuing the restoration of the data and two, the eye for detail, hitherto unrecognised in Mr Julian Cosson, for bringing my contribution (and the evidence thereof) back to my attention.

My reserved thanks are tossed idly in the general direction of both these parties.

Just so we're clear, I didn't do any work on it. I would've been smoking fags and pulling chicks with the cool kids down at Kelly's Arcade (please note, may not actually have happened) - I probably got Paul Matta and Simon Twining to do my bits in exchange for one of my sandwiches.

And with that grubby example of revisionism in action, I shall leave you to ponder the nature of history and subjectivity, particularly with reference with the Domesday Books (of both the 11th and the 20th Centuries). Or not.

Hey there, Earthman - love your work

"Vegetable rights and peace, man"

Doing my bit for the planet and all that (my misanthropy seems to be clearing up - that cream really does work), I've got a couple of links to enhance your awareness of the challenges our beautiful species face (as if you, dear reader, needed such enlightenment).

Firstly, there's an article where the BBC puts the boot in on Climate Change deniers. (thanks to Boing Boing for the link.)

The most illuminating point I felt was raised in the comments section under the Boing Boing article...

"1.) Anthropogenic carbon dioxide production exists. We burn fossil fuels for energy, a lot.

2.) Carbon dioxide acts as an insulating filter for infrared radiation. This can be demonstrated literally with a fish tank, a lamp, and a thermometer...

3.) Therefore, we are significantly increasing the retention of solar energy due to human produced carbon dioxide emissions."

Quite simple, really - ignore the harvesting of the evidence to prove matters, look at the logical rationale. Oh, and whilst you're at it, read "The Party's Over" by Richard Heinberg, then go find a nice comfortable cave for your grandchildren to live in.

My second titbit of gloom is from last Sunday's Observer, where Juliette Jowitt puts the case for less procreation. Who'd have thought it, eh - Malthus had it right after all, just a few hundred years too early. Where's a plague when you need it - sorry, misanthropy is playing up again. Anyway, now you've all booked in for your family planning clinic appointment, come and join Drop the Pop (what do you mean you're not on Facebook?!) where you can think long and hard about how to get the rest of the world to stop rutting so much, without sounding like a patronising Western shytehawk...


On the plus side, Soy Bean Futures are up 1.21% to $1069 as at 05.12 this AM on the Dow.

The name's Michael, not Mickey.

That Dee Dee was a cock-tease. Simple as.

CAPTAIN CAAAAAAAAAAAAAVVVVVVEEEE MMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNN!!!

I like the look of this - as one of the Amazon reviews so enchantingly highlighted, this would make excellent resource to titillate whilst one is ensconced on the crapper.

His Kinkyship Sails At Dawn

A splash? A dash? Jiggered if I know.

A few years back, I had the good fortune to see Kinky Friedman live, reading from his books, telling protracted anecdotes with serpentine digressions (think Ronnie Corbett, only with more cigars and casual references to cocaine abuse) and interacting with his companions - Mike McGovern, Little Jewford and, naturally, the Watson to Kinky's Holmes, Ratso.

I can recall virtually nothing of the evening, due to heavy imbibation; but there's definitely a strong residual aura of pleasure regarding the whole experience - enough to suggest to me that everyone was on good form and that, although I descended into the usual verbose twattishness that is my forté once in my cups, no-one held it against me particularly vehemently.

Anyway, the point is that, all the players signed a book I had on me (The Kinky Friedman Crime Club, since you asked - excellent read, go get it post haste) and I've just happened upon said autographs. Mike McGovern was good enough therein to give me the recipe for Vodka McGovern, which I will be indulging in tonight as a form of remembrance for times past.

Of course, with so much room for discretion in the interpretation of measurements, I feel sure that what I'll be drinking will not be a Vodka McGovern per se but some derivative form. As Plato's Allegory of the Cave should show us, however, it is ever thus.

As an aside, go to the Kinkstah's website for copious information; mainly regarding, as I suppose you'd expect, the man itself.

Folk off

I'm a professional - I can play without looking at the guitar.

I've just becomes acquainted with a new musical artiste - Emmy the Great.

She appears, on initial perusal, to be producing some quite great songs. Go forth and make her a star, my little disciples...

Her website is here and her myspace page is here (where you can hear some music, natch).

Come on the Field!

Kendal Town - on the crest of a wave (b'dm t'sch.)

It seems that my arrival in the Lakes has coincided with an upturn in the fortunes of the local football teams.

Not only have Little Sammy McIlroy's Morecambe FC scaled the pyramid and entered the League but now plucky little Kendal Town FC are on the precipice of the FA Cup first round proper.

As Wikipedia has kindly informed me, Kendal Town were originally known as Netherfield AFC (hence their nickname, the Field) and are currently in the Unibond Premier League.

Plenty of room at the back.

"In the beginning, the universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry, and is generally considered to have been a bad move."

Right so I've got nothing new for you. I have, however, got something old for you.

Hubble Bubble

It's the Hubble Heritage site where, literally, shit-loads of images from that great telescope in the sky have been enhanced and stored for our perusal.

This is the kind of thing that Kant must've been thinking of when he defined the sublime as "a state of mind elicited by the representation of boundlessness or the infinite." Once we had a barometer for beauty such as this, we can focus our aesthetic judgement upon anything, eh?

Eh?!

Oh.

Well, if I'm a virgin, how come I know what a girl's bottom looks like?

That's Rick with a silent P

It's not often you get to feel good about being in your mid-thirties. In fact, I don't think it's possible at all.

However, here's something that may make you slightly less miserable about having grown up in the Eighties - the fact that you can quote, ad nauseum, from the Young Ones.

Naturally, therefore, you'll all be wanting to get your hands on the Young Ones Anniversary DVD - pre-order on Amazon now (link)

No need to get pissy

Kinky Afro

As I'm on a roll with the posts here, I thought I'd make brief mention on the classy performance that England put on to step on those troublesome colonial oiks.

You've heard it all before, you've read it everywhere and, indeed, you've probably be thinking it all yourselves so I won't belabour the points - Sheridan was imperious, Shaw managed to play at his most aggressively without getting sent off (how the f*ck did that happen?!), Gomarsall was all over Gregan like a crack-addled hooker and our backs managed to tackle proficiently (again, how the f*ck did that happen?! Matthew Tait, take a bow).

All we need now is to repeat all the quality aspects of the performance against those dastardly Frenchies, whilst also getting considerably better at passing and innovative running. So, no problems there then...

Oh, and we also need to avoid getting nicked for criminal damage, a la Doug Howlett (link) - now, now, ladies; it's only a game.

Thunderous apologies

Morale totally destroyed... by pooh-pooh!

Just realised that I lied like a cheap persian shagpile when I said earlier that I'd come across nothing of note to post in recent weeks.

In fact, there is one new addition to my RSS feed that, whilst being slightly verbose, is reprieved somewhat by being infrequently populated. And, of course, by being the output of one Stephen Fry...

Link to Stephen Fry blog.

So far, there've been two posts - one on smartphones (and gadgetry in general) and another on, well, celebrity culture. Both chocked full of words you need to look up in a dictionary so that's reason enough to sign up, I feel.

Got to get you into my life

I buried Pato

Link to Beatles on speed

Someone has compressed (in time) all the Beatles UK albums so you can listen to all their output in an hour.

Sounds disturbing, yet oddly alluring.

Perusing the comments therein, it also becomes clear that it's possible to then decompress them (using some high-falutin' technology that is beyond me) and, bingo bongo, you've got all the Beatles tracks, albeit in a slightly warped fashion. Sounds almost as intriguing as the rap-rap-rapido interpretation.

Unfortunately, despite what the image at the top may imply, the results do not sound like helium-intoxicated animation characters. Shame.

(thanks to Boing, Boing for link)

Flashman on tour

Sorry for paucity of output - course has really started to dig deep and I've had no time to find anything enjoyable to indulge in myself, let alone find anything to post her for other people's delectation.

Anyway, I did happen upon a little Frank Keating ramble that entertained me yesterday in the Guardian (Manchester, not Cornish, natch)...

If the world of sport - or our way of watching it - changed irrevocably at the very time of my birth, there happened, too, one glorious final fling for sport's old order. I was precisely one week old 70 October 11s ago (the very day, as it happens, that Mrs Cissie Charlton of Ashington gave birth to bonny babe, Robert) when an England cricket team, led by Hampshire's Lord Tennyson, embarked for India. They won the series but Fleet Street never so much as whispered that, during it, they enjoyed hunting panther, tiger and elephant, that at Patiala the Maharajah gave the team the run of his 300-strong harem, and that on the very eve of the state match against Madras (according to Arthur Wellard's memoir) "the local Maharajah challenged us to an all-night drinking contest - whisky, brandy, gin, the lot. George [Pope] and I dropped out after midnight, but Joe [Hardstaff] matched the Prince glass for glass, drink for drink, till past 5am when Joe collapsed and we had to carry him home as good as dead." Next day, Hardstaff scored 213 (c Gopalan b Parthasarathi) in five hours, 24 fours, and, says Wisden, "never appeared in any trouble".

(link to full column)

If you're going to flash, flash hard.

I get the feeling that George MacDonald Fraser was probably ghost-writing Arthur Wellard's memoir but that's no bad thing. God bless the Empire.

Well, made me chuckle anyway.

For all your IT solutions...

God knows, I realise that there aren't many people who read this ('ve got Google Analytics and the reading ain't pretty). And, more to the point, I know that the people who do read this are unlikely to be interested in what I'm going to say next. However, I shall say it anyway - in case, someone stumbles upon it...

A friend of mine has recently started up his own IT solutions company, Fundament.

I won't dwell on the details, as there's more than enough information on the website - suffice to say, if you've got any IT issues and you want the considered expertise of someone who really does know what they're talking about, you could do much worse than giving him a call...

Down with that sort of thing; careful now.

Not rambled enough hereabouts so thought I'd rectify matters with some post-Viognier gibberish.

I've now been established in my Lakeland retreat for some three weeks so, clearly, I am now in a position to deal out wisdom regarding anything I see fit. To whit...

Coniston is a diverting lake and well worth driving around; it has striking hillocks overlooking it but the village is predictably dull - I'm not sure I'd go so far as to advocate walking as it's getting a bit parky around these parts and that's not really my bag. Still, if that's what tickles your boat or, indeed, floats your fancy then I'm sure the environs of Coniston will suffice. Just be sure to dress up warm.

In fairness, I've not had much time to embrace the Lakes as yet. Firstly, upon moving in, Casa Petterson demanded my interior decorating expertise. Things are now settling down and the homestead is replete with inspirational motifs.

However, just as my inner Llewellyn-Bowen was becalmed, then I felt the cold grip upon my shoulder of enforced study. Yes, my PGCE has commenced and, in a word, it's a strain.

Not the workload you understand, but the demanded reflection. I'm expected to look inward and critique appropriately (those of you who are aware of the term "reflective practitioner" can look away and shudder now). A worthy challenge to modify one's behaviour towards constancy when one is drawn towards the extremes of self-loathing and self-love with such frequency. I shall endeavour.

In the realm of music, there has been a bout of fecundity in my listening - current favourites are the CSNY glory of Midlake's "The Trial of Van Occupanther", the arch bleakness of The Editors "An End Has a Start", the acid samba of Os Mutantes' "Os Mutantes", the bitchy easy-listening electronica of The Bird and The Bee's "The Bird and The Bee" and the erudition and energetic instrumentalism of Augie March's "Strange Bird". Get 'em while they're hot - they're lovely.

(put a bit of each of these on the ol' Orb link)

Off to my pillow - drunk, don't you know.

The King is in his counting house

The idea of leaders generally being little more than titular, with all real work and policy being expedited by faceless, unelected apparatchiks is not a new one.

However, it does make me feel a little bit better about the fact that George W Bush is, on the face of it, the leader of the most powerful country in the world.

Idiot Son of an Asshole

------

Oh, and on a completely different note. Portugal can score 13 points against New Zealand and we can't even manage a single point against South Africa - that's how the world functions now, is it?

Sweet Jesus of Nazareth.

I'm so relieved I went into this World Cup with a low expectation level. However, on reflection I wish I'd not been so optimistic.

Boy Wonder's first birthday

First, Astrid very kindly (and with a completely altruistic motive) showed Eskel how to open his presents...


Then Eskel was introduced to Champagne for the first time, with expected levels of appreciation...


Then, after a few more swigs on the good stuff, he started to loosen up; eventually culminating in a rather ugly fracas with Grannie...


Finally, in a desperate attempt to soak up the booze, he dosed up on chocolate cake...


We are currently dealing with the fallout from the subsequent sugar crash. It's messy. Say no more.

This one goes all the way up to eleven

Vade retro, Satanas

Here's some great recordings to listen to.

Amongst other titbits included therein are a castrato singing, the highest recorded sung note and a Russian exorcism.

I thought it was interesting, anyway.

(thanks to Fimoculous for making me aware)

Baby, you can drive my car

I've just passed my driving test.

I'm now a qualified driver.

At the age of 35.

Rejoice.

Kristian, in celebratory mood.

I'm expecting a host of messages, specifically from friends who ferried me about in their cars during the nineties, detailing their expectations regarding some lift-based recompense.

All I will say to them is that they're more than welcome to come up to the Lake District and I will drive them around as much as they like. In this way, I expect to balance any hunger for debt repayment against distaste at spending any time in my company. There's an element of yin/yang type shit in there, I think.

Anyway, as I said - rejoice.

Press Play and Record simultaneously.

Sorry about the lack of posts - I've, quite simply, had nothing at all to say; nor have I found anything on the World Deep Tinterweb to titillate extensively enough to go out of my way and tell you about.

This has now changed. And in a really big way.

Listen carefully - in fact, save this webpage in your special saving place and, just to be safe, print it out also...

The new Super Furry Animals albumen is out. It's called "Hey Venus". It's fucking brilliant. Without parallel. Unprecedently excellent pop/rock. Well, I say unprecedently but there is, obviously, the precedent of the previous Super Furry Animal's albumens; all of which point to a pretty amazing band, consistently producing innovative popular music which manages to doff it's cap to a multitude of glorious forebears whilst at the same time sounding their equal or better. Suffice, now, to say that "Hey Venus" is a very, very worthy addition to their oeuvre.

If you like the Furries, then you probably don't need a second invitation to go forth and purchase, with immediate effect.

If you haven't really heard much about, or by, the Furries then this is, in a nutshell, a superb introduction to what they're about - listen to my Orb link (where I'm going to helpfully post a few tracks) and luxuriate in the confluence of influence that is their power pop majesty.

If you don't like the Furries, you are, in a very real and objective sense, a fool and you need to seriously reappraise your life, with specific reference to your belief systems and your musical opinions. Once you've done this, go to the Orb link and bathe in the torrents of harmonious joy that you find there.

End of an era

We've finally exchanged on our new house. It goes without saying that this is a good thing.

We complete next Tuesday (14th August) and our possessions will be shovelled into the house next Friday (17th August), leaving us with a couple of days to paint Astrid's room the desired shade of purple and to put up some curtains.

So the saga is nearly at an end. Just to recap, we put our Bristol house on the market back on 5th February, we moved in with my in-laws in Lancashire on 25th March, we exchanged contracts on it on 27th April (oh, how we thought we'd had the worst of it by then - ha!) and here we are, finally, on the precipice on moving into our new house. I'm not sure where that stands in the pantheon on protracted house moves but, in the interests of understatement, I'll just clarify that I'm glad it's drawing to a close.

And this momentous occasion coincides neatly with our fifth anniversary. Tradition deems wood an appropriate gift for this anniversary (snicker, snicker) but you'll be pleased to know I opted for the flowers gag. We're also off to The Dining Room in Rawtenstall tonight which, if you're ever in the Vale of Bacup, I'd heartily recommend visiting - it's a peach.

To celebrate all this excellent news with you, I'm going to link a video of Astrid from back in March that has consistently entertained me ever since. Apologies for it's rotational issues - my video manipulation software didn't recognise the format so you'll just have to twist your necks. In fairness, it's the sound that is most amusing as a tired Astrid descends into a stream of consciousness listing of everything she can see.




(Link)

I think we can definitely file this post under "one for people who know me only".

Huge developmental leaps from the Boy Wonder

Right, so first off Eskel has started crawling. Cue picture...



Nothing too out of the ordinary there (in fact, you may argue that, at 11 months, this should be a tired skillset). But then , suddenly (and, let's be honest, amazingly), he starts to jump straight into some bad-ass break dance moves. No, seriously.

I didn't have any video capture options at the time so I had to make do with a still image - so here's Eskel dropping into an awesome (take my word for it) windmill...



Trust me, it was phat.

You tell The Great Pumpkin that he can stick his pity up his ass!

Link to irreverance

It's pretty self-explanatory - a pastiche of Peanuts, written in the style of Charles Bukowski.

Even if you don't know, or like, either of those cultural waystations, I'd still recommend you take a look - just for the swearing.

(thanks to Boing Boing and to Fimoculous for links)

I look considerably better as an animated goon

You can "simpsonize" yourself - it's pretty stupid really, but I'm bored, I've got some time on my hands and I've nothing else to put on the blog so here you go...

Link to, literally, seconds of fun

1st Test Wicket for enemy of Eternia

I have nothing to say about England's atrocious batting collapse. Nor, really, about the fantastic drainage system at Lords. So I shall resort to childish (and not all that accurate) "separated at birth" gibes...

The applause is clearly not for the camera work

Eskel, is now sitting up (just about) and even, occasionally, deigns to find me amusing - such are the gifts of parenthood. Envy me.



---

The (new) house sale is going well - survey back (all fine) and mortgage has been agreed anew. With any luck, we may get this all sorted before the end of August, which given we originally planned to be living up there by the start of June is a bit disappointing but it's not like we've missed any of the summer so that's a silver lining right there, eh?

---

I had my orientation day at Ambleside for the PGCE - early start, late finish, lots of paperwork, yadah, yadah. Everything coming together with that part of my life now, as well. Apparently.

---

Driving lessons have been recommenced as well. I know, I know - 35 years old and just learning to drive. I'm a disgrace. Be assured that I intend to geld myself with a spoon as a mark of my lack of masculinity.

---

That is all

Children front and centre

Baby in a bucket

Hell, I want one. Simple as that.

Anyone else drive their kids around in modified ice cream trolleys? If not, do you have alternative bicycle/children interfaces?

I want to know more. Elucidate and, thereby, inculcate...

Stuck in a moment

Stay on target

I'm not sure why this is such an appealing exercise to me - I'm certainly not a Buddhist and don't really hold any spiritual convictions of any sort.

However, I do like the idea of simplifying one's thought processes, of de-cluttering and, definitely, of taking more pleasure from life - I guess it comes down to wanting what I don't have.

Now, all together - om mani padme hum...

Oh, Dolly, you have tested my patience for a long time now (*)

I can imagine you're all on the edge of your seat, screaming at your monitors for more information on, surely, the most depressingly convoluted house move in the history of Estate Agency - our purchase of Brynmede (qv). Eh? Oh.

I will not bore you with details - trust me, they are stultifying in the extreme. Suffice to say, that after the issues brought to our attention by the survey (damp, wet/dry rot, woodworm, etc) had been demonstrated to be acceptably small risks for us, a whole new swathe of issues arose in our solicitor's searches - specifically relating to the septic tank that is used by the house (and some others) and, more damagingly, to a piece of land in front of the garage entrance that is not, according to the Land Registry, part of the registered plot we're buying.

The protracted nature of these delays (it's now been over 3 months since we had our offer accepted), along with the fact that there is neither an end in sight or indeed, any guarantee that matters will be settled to our satisfaction, has meant that we've decided to withdraw our offer on Brynmede.

Quite simply, we're running out of time before my course starts and we, ideally, need to be settled in (somewhere) within the next 4-6 weeks tops. With that in mind, we couldn't risk getting the shaft (sorry if I'm drifting into legalese) with Brynmede so we bailed for what, on paper, seems to be a simpler (and, concomitantly, a quicker) option...

We've now had an offer accepted on this house. It's considerably less quirky; it's been renovated; it's on mains water/gas/electricity/etc; it's in the middle of a village. Let's be honest, it's the "safe" choice but I'm at ease with that - the compromises we had to make with Brynmede have been resolved and replaced with alternate compromises; c'est la vie. Most importantly, for the first time in a long time I can foresee less hassle on the horizon (famous last words).

Easily the most dull blog entry that I've posted thusfar - apologies for that. Now it's clear to me why I've been avoiding writing it for so long.

(* no prize to offer if you can spot the origin of my quote but some kudos...)

Golden Globe

So, you've arrived in work and you realise you've forgotten to bring in the print from home of that picture of an elephant defecating that you'd photoshop'd the head of your manager onto, thereby missing your desired window of wit.

Get Orb.

Or you've got to a friend's house and they're asking if you've got those pictures you were talking about of last week's piss-up/the kids at the birthday party/those schematics of the bank vault but you've left them at home on your PC/laptop.

Get Orb.

Or you're on the phone/email to someone and you're raving about the new Zodiac Mindwarp album. They ask you if you've got it on you so that they can try before they buy.

Get Orb.

Basically, you go to the Orb website; there to sign up and download their software. This software scans your hard drive (within parameters that you set - ie, you can have hidden folders, etc) and then, as long as your PC is on and Orb is running on it, you can log in to Orb on any terminal, anywhere in the world and, by proxy, access the folders you've given Orb access to.

In addition, you can set up a public page where you can drag/drop anything you like (from your files) thereon, then tell someone to go to that public page and they can look/listen to whatever you've dropped there. As an example, I've popped The National album, "Boxer", that I was raving about below on my public page so you can all listen to it for a bit.

Orb is a bit sluggish, as streaming providers tend to be. But, all in all, I love it.

Musical Musing - The National, "Boxer"

What do Nick Cave, U2 and the soundtracks of John Hughes movies have in common.

Well, ostensibly very little indeed. However, when I first listened to The National's latest album, "Boxer", these are some of the things that came to mind.

I'm not overly fond of Nick Cave, U2 or Simple Minds so it's a bit of a mystery to me why I like "Boxer" so much.

Perhaps it's the great drums. Sweet shitting Jesus on a tandem, the drumming is good on it.

Perhaps it's the fact that they seem to have fused alt.country to early 80s British anthemic rock and taken away all the bad connotations that union may conjure - 'cause they have; they bloody well have.

Anyway, I like it. And, if you've a soft spot for, say, Arcade Fire but wish they weren't quite so art-rock pretentious, I urge you to give it a listen, then maybe even purchase it.

There aren't any harmonies on it. But I'm willing to forgive it for that oversight.

...falling on my head like a memory.

Late June, when a middle-aged man's thoughts turn, not to Wimbledon, but his golden years and his forays to Glastonbury.

I've done my time at Pilton and, all those memories notwithstanding, I'm capable of remembering it purely through rose-tinted spectacles. I even entertain, briefly, ideas of returning when the dust has settled on the early years of the kids.

Fortunately, Charlie Brooker has penned a piece in the Guardian that has washed away the cataracts of delusion and left me blinking, in full recollection, at the reality of festival weekends and, more importantly, how massive a transition would be required for me to return there...

Link

(thanks for Pat for the heads up on the link)

Seismographs at the ready

Bernard Manning is dead.

As Bill Hicks (a great comedian, in stark contrast to Manning) once said, "We just lost another ass-hole - hoorah, I just felt the world get lighter".

Communication Breakdown - it's always the same.

Right, so I've not been dishing out quite as much of the fare you've, no doubt, become accustomed to. For this, I apologise.

The simple fact is that, for quite a few weeks now, I've been between jobs, as the euphemism goes. Therefore, I've had a modicum of free time to devote to, well, communicating things to y'all via this blog. However, last week (and, for that matter, the coming week), I've been doing a few days experience in a local primary school. This is a prerequisite of my course - an opportunity for them to get a reference from someone who's opinion is relevant and also, I suspect, they see it as an eye-opener to dispel any last myths those doe-eyed idealists who apply to become teachers may hold regarding their potential new career.

It's been tough, basically. The underlying fact I've begun to appreciate this time round is the relentlessness of the day - there's no downtime whatsoever and you're being asked mental, physical and emotional questions perpetually.

On the other hand, N has told me I've seemed more alive and accessible to the world at large this past few days than I have in months. I guess that could be regarded by many as a negative by-product of this experiment but she assures me it's a positive one to her.

Let's hope things continue to feel like this, only without all the hard work and stuff.

---

Prior to the placement business, it was my birthday last Sunday. In Biblical terms, I've now officially reached middle-age. And, quite simply, I can't abide it.

It seems like I've spent most of my adult life trying to coming to terms with my own mortality (and the vanity issues that accompany that process); I've not come to any satisfactory conclusions as yet.

However, that was last weeks problem and so I'm in a much better place now, relatively speaking.

---

There was one positive to the whole "waving at the onset of one's own downward spiral to dust" that was my birthday, however. I got given a Nintendo Wii.

It's very amusing indeed. Particularly for everyone else in the house, watching me flailing about and swearing at my sweaty, stumbling avatar on the screen. Not a single idea how I'm going to find any time in my life to enjoy it fully but I will endeavour, I will endeavour...

---

A quick link for you...

Baggy trousers, dirty shirt

They're called Howies and they sell clothes. It's comfortable, reasonably cheap, hard-wearing casual skate/surf wear for people who don't necessarily skate/surf. I like it muchly and I think some of you might also. Into the bargain, they're pretty right-on as well - check out the website for full guff on that point...

---

And here's my special girl, looking curly...

That is, like, so harsh you bitch...

Been well and truly busy with, like, life stuff. Hence paucity of output. Apologies to my reader.

Here's a funny link (found via Boing Boing, if you were wondering - they were going on about an Archie creationist comic that was also entertaining; but I liked this more. God and Paris Hilton - do targets get any easier?)...

Link to bitch-e action

Fridge door fascists

Link to Little Miss Pissy Pants

No doubt you've all seen this website (it's been quite high profile in recent days, at least to my eyes) but just in case you haven't, it's well worth a little look - sends shivers down your back, remembering life in shared accomodation.

Welcome to the Kendal King Pin Revue Bar

If you have an ongoing interest in mobile phones, you'll probably know all about the Nokia N95.

Link for corporate drivel

I'm not going to bore you with an in-depth review of this all-singing, all-dancing topless pole dance of a phone. After all, there are plenty of websites that do that sort of thing. Also, it would take me ages to reel off all its features and I've not got the time or inclination.

What I will tell you is that I'm loving the little blighter. Only downsides are that, like the N80 I had before it, it had a leaning towards the rickety end of the spectrum (but, then all the slide phones I've ever seen have this problem); and the battery time is extremely short (which is an understandable consequence of it doing so many different things).

This really is the future of mobile technology. And I feel like a real twat for having just typed that sentence.

Domestic Bliss

So what happens is: you set out, as a parent, to ensure that your children are inspired and educated at every turn; that developmental opportunities are grasped with both hands whenever and wherever they crop up.

Then you find yourself, somewhere down the line, buying a plastic "Winnie The Pooh" swing/slide/treehouse combo just so you can buy yourself enough time to sit back and sup on some margaritas in the northern summer sun (ha!).



Seriously, they love this stuff and, if it ever bloody well stops raining in this sun-forsaken backwater, it should be a gateway to hours of fun.

And the treehouse is just big enough for me to go and sulk in when I'm in a bad mood.

I frigging love this ad...

Link to Cakecar/Carcake/Whatever

Being a parent means I can watch this repeatedly, sing along to Julie Andrews and still not feel even remotely emasculated.



Oh, and the rest of the family thinks it's OK too.

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Vodka FRENZY!

Those of you that had the good fortune to come over to our flat on Redland Road and get wasted with Nadira and I before we had children, will recall our predilection for cocktails and, particularly, vodka based cocktails.

Ah, vodka - the spirit of choice for any lush, surely?!

Anyway, a friend has just emailed me a superb vodka martini cocktail that I think I should share with all of you. I shall quote to avoid confusion,

"Check out this yummy martini-like thing we made tonight (last night). It's two parts Absolut Vanilla, 1 part sweet vermouth, a splash of bitters, and 1/2 a vanilla pod for garnish. The garnish really starts to flavor the drink after a few minutes."

I think that just about says it all, except I may add that vanilla pods are a touch expensive so the garnish will obviously do the job for a number of rounds (depending on your constitution, you may not need more than, say, three or four of these bad boys anyway) - can't see the efficacy of a vanilla pod diminishing dramatically, even in the face of a vodka onslaught. Also, my personal preference would be to shake with (non-crushed) ice cubes before straining into the glass over the pod - but then, I'm a lout and a boor as you will testify.

Anyway, drink up Johnny - it's happy hour...

(thanks to Jeff for this swell-agant trip to the land of F Scott Fitzgerald)

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Liverpool FC, they're by far...

Link to overload of Greek mythology analogies

Simon Barnes wrote this before the final of the Champions League. So credit due for hitting so many nails so squarely on the head.

I'm, naturally, gutted about the whole experience. However, there is some comfort in finding it was no more than an inevitable display of the natural rebalancing of football karma.

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Facebook phenomenon

So, apparently, it's the craze that's swept the globe (assuming, of course, that the globe consists almost exclusively of people in higher education or those that wish they (still) were).

I recently dipped my toes into these waters and found, well not a lot really - to my mind, it's like an aggregate of your own email platform (except not all your contacts are on there) and Friends Reunited (except not many of your long lost friends are on there). I mean, it's hard to see past these two salient facts...

Firstly, if I want to get in contact with someone I know, I'm probably more than capable of just emailing them. That's how we did it back in the good ol' 20th Century, y'know.

Secondly, if I don't have the contact details of someone, that is a warning in itself regarding whether I really want to re-establish communication links with them. As I've said in the past to the friends who will suffer my bleating, the people I knew at school who I'm no longer in contact were, generally, people I couldn't wait to lose contact with - long may they rot in the fetid dungeon that is my memory of them. More often than not, there is absolutely no reason to seek out your past; you left it back there for a very good reason.

Of course, there are exceptions - there are a handful of people who I wish I'd kept in contact with from the past. However, 1) none of them are on Facebook; 2) if I wanted to get in contact with them I could always track them down on Friends Reunited and, 3) who's to say they want to be in contact with me - to re-animate the unpleasant metaphor of the previous paragraph, I may well be an unwelcome resident in their fetid dungeon.

Anyway, getting back to Facebook itself, it's pleasing in a "I'm desperate to find a brand new way of wasting whole swathes of my day, fruitlessly trying to prove to the world at large (and more to the point, myself) that I'm more popular and gregarious than I really am" kind of way. It may well turn out to be (or, indeed, already be) the new SMS - that is, something we don't need but embrace nevertheless. At present, however, I just don't really get what it's offering that isn't already available. As with most of the Web 2.0 world, its main selling point is bringing several tools together in one place; however I'm not yet experiencing any discernable improvement to any of the consituent parts by virtue of the coalescence.

Of course, my opinion may soften somewhat if larger proportions of my gmail contact list start to appear therein. Then, I can chat aimlessly about nothing whatsoever with the two or three people in the world I still retain contact with who aren't living in my house. Now I've typed it out, it seems irresistable doesnt it?

Come on, you frigging Luddites - get with the hep groove...

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I always thought my genitals were the result of some crude practical joke

That's a quote, by the way, not a personal opinion (although I can certainly empathise) - here's a link to some more...



Happy birthday, Steven Patrick Morrissey; 48 today.

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Easier said than done, episode 42

Link to realisation of the ephemera of existence

Clearly there's some interesting self-help shit going on in this little article. Of course, the article itself is an example of the sort of advice it is advising to take with a pinch of salt.

That's the sort of circular argument that can give you a migraine relatively quickly. Have a beer, go to the beach, inhale and relax.

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Feed me, Seymour - feed me NOW!

Astrid, in the car, wondering why she's been shortchanged on the sandwich front



Here's the link.

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He should be royalty with teeth like that

Last night, and this morning, it was crossing my mind to write something about the first Test against the West Indies at Lords.

There'll be plenty for me to muse on, I thought - the pleasure of getting back to proper cricket after the interminable pyjama session that was the ICCCWCWI2007 (Guardian Link), the irony of the fact that the West Indies have replaced their production line of fast, accurate pace bowlers with a production line of ponderous, inaccurate trundlers, the obscenity that is the modern international cricket schedule where a touring team are afforded one warm-up match (which was virtually rained off) before the start of the Test series, how great Monty Panesar is, etc, etc.

And yet all I could think about was the calamitous, disused graveyard of enamel that is Matt Prior's dental misdemeanour - in the words of Daphne and Celeste , "U.G.L.Y. - you ain't got no alibi; you ugly!".



Into the bargain, I spotted this little tit-bit (Corridor Link), and there's even more incriminating evidence on Prior - apparently he is possibly (and I'm quoting here) "a bit of a twat". Conclusive evidence, if any were required.

Surely there is an argument for ensuring that, if there's no obvious talent-orientated criteria by which to differentiate between two players for selection purposes, we should opt for the one that's easiest on the eye - if only to enhance the possibility of luring back the female demographic and giving the cricket bores amongst us a chance to show off at dinner parties (God, remember the heady aftermath of Ashes 2005 when you could talk to anyone, ANYONE, about cricket and they'd be interested? Ha!).

I reckon we should go with the Surrey pin-up, Jonathan Batty...



Sweet, he's even got himself a tan.

And under no circumstances should anyone ever mention Tim Ambrose as a candidate...



His nickname is "Freak" (source - Cricinfo). Say no more.

Of course, Prior's century was sumptuous in it's perfectly appointed arrogance but he's got a mouth like a Rusedski Family car crash and he's "a bit of a twat" (quote, ergo fact).

Done and dusted, Batty's your man.

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Is there anybody out there?

Hi there, pop-pickers

It's not my intention to relentlessly post YouTube guff over and over again herein. However, I have noticed it's becoming a feature.

With this in mind, I've a question for anyone who may be looking at this site with any degree of regularity - do you prefer that I post a link to YouTube, or do you want me to embed the video in the blog. The crux, I guess, is - is your Kristian-related pleasure being compromised by any slowing down in the loading of pages, etc?

Please feel free to give me your opinions in the comments...

Of course, this may be construed as a crass attempt to gauge who's checking out my blog. That is just a fortunate corollary, I assure you.

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It's the relentlessness of it that makes it so compelling to watch

A man, a ping pong ball, an obsession...



Here's the link.

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Take an opinion, extrapolate, investigate...

Link to Salted Solution blog

Here's an article from a friend - imbibe and feel free to debate.

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Update on house move

Survey has come back and it has highlighted some potential issues with woodworm and with damp. Got to get more extensive investigations completed (along with quotes for any remedial work needed) and then we can go back to vendor and talk about whether our offer stays the same.

Quotes, fortunately, cost about £80 each and naturally we need to get a couple for comparison purposes - just in the nick of time as I was beginning to feel like this whole move wasn't costing me enough unnecessary expense.

Worse case scenario is the replacement of all the ground floor floorboards, the replacement of some timbers in the roof, the implementation of a damp proof course and a woodworm treatment throughout the house. Along with, of course, redecoration as a consequence of all the damp, etc (but that would've happened regardless). Best case scenario is that we just need to dry out a few rooms, put in a damp proof course, treat some isolated woodworm activity and redecorate.

Oh, hold on - no, worse case scenario is actually that there's loads of work to do, the vendor won't drop their price and we have to pull out. Let's not think about that for the moment.

We should know more in about a week or so.

Nadira and I went away at the weekend for a glorified piss-up. Sayed at the Hotel Du Vin in Harrogate, drank champagne and watched that Lesbian Serbian romp the Eurovision. Highly recommend the hotel and the town if you're in the market for an extremely flash night away with your significant other. Cost a tidy sum, mind.

Still can't believe Ukraine were robbed on Saturday - that transvestite Timmy Mallett look-a-like seemed a shoe-in. Bet Old Compton Street was like The White Hart in Bristol the night Germany knocked England out of Euro '96.

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Strictly one for the cricket geeks

Whilst our house move is sorting itself out, I'm currently living in Bacup, with my in-laws.

Now, Bacup is a fairly unremarkable town in East Lancashire. Unremarkable, apart from the fact that during the 2006 club cricket season, they managed to convince Chris Cairns, the ex-Kiwi international cricketer, to be their professional.

From what I've heard, he cost them quite a packet in the salary department. However, I've also heard that he was worth every penny not just for his sterling performances with bat and ball (especially towards the end of the season) but also for the fund raising activities he generated.

Utilising his hefty array of cricket contacts, he got a cavalcade of NZ cricketers into the area and I've just found the following footage of a Haka performed in the Bacup CC bar - get your spotters books out and see who you recognise. I can definitely see Franklin, Vettori and McCullum.

Here are the lyrics if you fancy singing along: link to Haka lyrics.




Here's the link.

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Jedi mind trick

Link to Discover

So, anyway - back in the day, Luke Skywalker decided he didn't need a targeting computer at all and could nail a shot in a million by merely using the force.

Apparently, science is now backing him up - we don't need signs after all, we just need to get in touch with our inner health and safety officer.

Conjoining the words "mould" and "feet" never seemed so appealing

Link to Cool Hunting

Beats Reefs everytime, I think. Plus it's all eco-friendly and all that.

Apparently, after some practice you don't even need the strap; you just grip with your toes. So, it's a podiatric workout into the bargain.

Sweet.

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Amis Review

Martin is such a sleek and stylish writer - when he sees fit to re-enter the oeuvre, he makes journalism seem like an honourable profession for a few minutes...

Link to Times Article

If, like me, you're full of sh*t...

Gateway to avoiding cliché

Quite simply you cut n paste your text into the box, then click on "find cliches" and it'll point out to you how boring and unimaginative the text is...

Helpful if you want to be a pedant and really irritate someone, by applying it to their work. Or ego-destroying if you feel compelled to push any of your own stuff through the wringer...

Murun Buchstansangur

Link to a world of nostalgia

I swear that somewhere on this site will be something that will make you want to thank me for showing you the link.

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Tee hee hee

Boing Boing link

I'll say it again - tee hee hee.

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There's always something happening and it's usually quite loud, part four.

Here's part four- this is the upstairs hall, the master bedroom and the second bedroom (which was the guest room).

And here's the link.

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There's always something happening and it's usually quite loud, part three.

Here's part three - this is the stairs, the bathroom and the third bedroom (that was Astrid's).

And here's the link.

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There's always something happening and it's usually quite loud, part two.

Here's part two - lounge, playroom and downstairs toilet.

And here's the link.

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There's always something happening and it's usually quite loud, part one.

As promised previously, I'm now going to post the video equivalent of the last rites for our relationship with Cornwall Road, Bristol.

Here's the link.

This is part one - hall, stairwell, breakfast room, kitchen (with a little additional Nadira) and garden.

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Money can't buy you love

I could say a lot tonight, regarding Liverpool's success against Chelsea in the semi-finals of the Champions League.

However, I will limit myself to one observation (albeit a protracted one).

If the rumours I've read are correct, Roman Abramovich is unhappy with the style in which Chelsea are playing.

Mourinho has been conditioned, as a manager, to seek victory; Abramovich, as an extremely rich man, has come to expect satisfaction. The realisation is that, in football, victory is not always satisfaction.

What it comes down to is: Roman has spent a lot of money and he wants beautiful football. He doesn't just want victory, he wants dominance in the truest sense football can offer; aesthetic. And when the supply of money is seemingly endless, this expectation is not unreasonable - it is, however, very difficult to acheive.

Simply, Jose is struggling to give Roman what he wants because they have different standards of success.

In the long run, I think Roman is the more astute of the two - Chelsea, with all their obscene funds, will never get any non-partisan respect until they play attractive, expansive, even reckless football. Only this style, the football of the dilletante, rings true to their current foundations - unending wealth, constant choice and relentless potential for improvement.

Until Chelsea (and their manager) appreciate this, no-one outside Stamford Bridge will ever learn to love them. That is where the likes of Manchester, Arsenal and Liverpool will continue to hold the upper hand - there is love for them in abundance throughout both their supporters and the neutrals. Chelsea, as result of their financial pre-eminance will continue to garner animosity until they fulfil the promise of their huge wealth.

In case you hadn't realised, I'm drunk (hence the pomposity). JP and Jamie, I promised you a football rant tonight - here it is...

I was a teenage pirate too.

Link to Boing Boing

Take the enthusiasm with which all aspects of UK society seem to quickly follow their US counterparts, add the above titbit of teacher training news and sprinkle with the ammunition that's available (online and beyond) regarding my past. A recipe for a failed career change.

Oh bugger.

Time to start some serious Soviet-style revisionism. Old Man of Conistion Gulag beckons for any of you who know me...

Time to waste on British History...?

Link to BBC History

You can rest assured that I'm well aware of how clichéd I'm being in posting loads of posts early on in my Blog life - I fully expect to follow the normal curve on this and gradually stop posting altogether - I recommend you make the most of my enthusiasm whilst it lasts...

"Do you detect a certain logical incoherence in the central affirmations of Christian theism?"

Link to Education Guardian

I think it's fair to say that, not having gone anywhere near a Philosophy course in well over a decade that I've missed the boat on the "connotations of depth, charisma and calm, not forgetting originality and insight".

Ho hum.

Goodbye Cornwall Road, from the young man in the 52nd house

The removal men are in, packing up all our possessions.

By midday tomorrow, this house will be an empty shell (notwithstanding my laptop, my overnight bag and some curtains), ready for it's new owner to stamp their (naturally inferior) interior design ideas on it.

And I'm not all that bothered at the moment.

I was expecting some sort of emotional catharsis moment - the departure from this house representing, once and for all, our departure from Bristol and the cosy and relatively predicatable life we've had for the last 10+ years. However, so far there's been no emotion at all.

I'm hoping this means I'm fully at ease with the decision; that I have acheived "closure" (ha!) regarding the move. Alternatively, of course, I could be sublimating all my feelings - keep your eyes peeled for a tearful breakdown in three or four months over a spilt cup of tea...

When the job's done, I will hopefully have some pictures to upload of our the house, naked and cleaned, all primed for fresh abuses.

A musical stream of consciousness

I originally jumped on the Radiohead sharabang, as many did, with “The Bends”. Then, subsequently, I was willing to go with them as they took us all on a journey towards guitar/electronica cross over in “OK, Computer” (a decision aided by having been blown away during their turn at Glastonbury in the mud of 1996).

As the subsequent albums have extended the transition from guitar to computers, I'll be the first to admit I've struggled to keep up at times but, as a true stalwart, I've recently, rather belatedly, got around to hearing Thom Yorke's solo album, “The Eraser”.

It's simultaneously exactly what I was expecting and also a complete surprise. The surprise is that, despite being awash with bleeping and PC-centric noodling, it's also just supremely melodic. You could always rely on being impressed (eventually) by the musical complexity and the lyrical astuteness – this has shone through even in the most intransigent Radiohead journeys but “The Eraser” is also, ironically, as approachable as anything that's come from Thom Yorke in years. Says me, anyway.

Then, just to prove to myself that I wasn't having a mid-life crisis with all this modern music, I buried myself in some nostalgia by revisiting lots and lots of Zappa.

He was quite simply a phenomenon, creating an awful lot of albums but my personal preferences lie around the early/mid Seventies through to the early Eighties and, particularly, the live albums where you get a real appreciation of the musical virtuosity he demanded from his bands.

Moreover, this awe-inspiring demonstration of skill helps to ameliorate the increasing despair at his puerility. Even though one can't help to laugh at times, it's the relentlessness of his silly lyrics that wear you down eventually. One to revisit sparingly, I realised.

It was this mature overview of Frank that made me realise that a mid-life crisis was the least of my worries. Quite the contrary. I'm turning into a boring old giffer.

So, I unfurled the new Arctic Monkeys album (“Favourite Worst Nightmare”) and settled down to a fine blend of articulate banter and undiluted pop thrashing. I may even have indulged in a spot of pogo'ing. Fortunately, no-one was watching so the images of my middle-aged shame are mine alone.

It'd been a funny old couple of hours so it seemed entirely appropriate to finish it off by listening to Joanna Newsom caterwauling over her individual interpretation of harp playing (absolutely stunning but I'm still no wiser as to how it all manages to work so well) on her last album, "Ys". Before I did so, however, I gave myself the opportunity to holler along to "Let It Bleed" as a final acknowledgment of the fact that I am, quite simply, not a young man anymore.

But, then, neither is Thom Yorke.

Better late than never

Some introductions, hmm?

I'm Kristian...

And I've got a family...

Nadira...

Astrid...
and Eskel...

Use Gmail? Use Firefox?

Of course you do...

Try this firefox extension, it's an excellent modifier that give you plenty of funky options to improve your Gmail experience. Essentially, it's a bunch of Greasemonkey scripts (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greasemonkey) put together into one big extension.

Link to Lifehacker (Better Gmail)

All I would stress is that you may want to limit the options you choose as it can slow down Gmail considerably if you get too greedy.

Free itunes stuff

Link to Apple Forums (itunes free downloads)

They'll tell you what the free download of the week is on itunes. UK one is a few posts down and is updated each Tuesday.

I've nothing more to say on this - it's pertinent features are pretty much self-evident.

Greetings from the heart of the South Lakes

Just like most of the other blogs you've ever stumbled upon, this one will, I feel certain, be little more than a dumping ground for a subjective selection of my thoughts, opinions and random information I decide to pass on.

As I said, just like all the other blogs you've ever experienced. Only this time, from me.

Off the top of my head, I'd predict some posts about my family, some posts about computer stuff I've seen/implemented, some posts about Kendal and, more generally, the Lake District (where I've just relocated to) and, presumably, some editorials about things that take my fancy in the world at large.