Created Metaphors

Street Greeting

"You look tired" he said as I reached my car that morning.

"Do I?"

Shaking his head he rephrased himself, "Do you think you look tired?"

I shrugged at the stranger, and looked up at the grey morning sky.  Winter was creeping in and everywhere was damp from the recent rain.  "Everyone is tired at this time of year."

"Is this your car? I cleaned it for you."

I looked at him, this stranger who had halted me.

"The birds, you know.  I have a woollen sock.  It works well, wool.  It just wipes off, like this.  See?"

I looked at him as he wiped at my car with a white woollen sock.

"I'm going to clean my steps using it next."

I muttered my thanks and excused myself.  Interesting kindness and odd words.

Running Wild

There was an odd feeling deep in my bones tonight.  Like spring in autumn, a bounce in my step, a desire to run wild. 

I was on the bus home, cider in my veins, on my way to my family home, my childhood bedroom, my work.  To do work.

I almost rebelled.  This feeling pushed. 

In a moment, in a flash, I would have been off the bus, out to go dancing and socialising, rebelling as if I were still young.  I am still young (I am!) but, as the crowd reminded me as the bus pulled past, not that young.  It has been more than twelve years since I first went to that nightclub.  So long ago.

And yet this need still pulsed through me.  Why do I need to work?  Why can't I still run wild?  After all I do still live at home.  I am still a student.

Instead the bus drew me on, drew me home, to the life that is still in flux as I fail to grow up or live young.  The life in which I failed to decide who I want to be.

I run late, searching for things that cannot be found.  Like a white rabbit joining the hunt for snarks.

Feeling the Walls

I don't know whether it is poor spatial awareness, poor balance, or just a love of tactile sensation, but I feel the walls when I walk. 

As a child I would run my hand along the fence, rat-a-tat-tat, on my way home.  I did the same with the walls, but they made a less interesting sound.  I did the same with a Yucca, and cut my hands.

My trailing hand feels the path.

I didn't learn a lesson from that yucca experience and today my hands still follow walls, radiators, window panes, wood.  I know where I have been from the textures on the walls I pass.

Texture, balance, whatever.  I feel my way wherever I go.

(Not sure if that's just me, and an odd compulsion that is all my own, or a perfectly normal behaviour that I have just chosen to vocalise.)

Bounding Feet

Today I realised I had lost my walk. 

I was walking at the time.  Baffled, I almost stopped.

When I was younger a friend used to joke I had the Newman walk.  To his mind all those who went to Cardinal Newman School came out with a distinctive walk.  I had it, my brother had it, my friend's ex-girlfriend and another friend's niece and nephew all had it.  A fast-stride high bounce walk.  Bobbing while striding.  Purposeful. 

These days I amble; slow, flat, no pace or drive.  Comfortable but not powerful.

'I've lost my walk' I was thinking as I walked along by the level just now, 'Should I try and find it?'  And as I was thinking these thoughts on came a song on the radio: Here Comes the Hotstepper.

I enjoyed that walk, but I shall wait and see what the future holds for me walk-wise.

Finding Order

Yesterday I cleared.  Shuffling things in my small living space.

The strange thing I realised is that being back in your childhood bedroom causes interesting filing issues.  Fitting a lot of things gathered over many years into a small space is never easy... 

Where *should* the pop-up pirate game be slotted*?  Does my croquet set really belong with my shoes and glockenspiel**? Where is the best position for my top hat? My hourglass? My Thundercats VHS videotape or my Storyteller cassette tape?  How does the logical ordering of mask, stone and dried flowers work?

I'm finding my own order.

----

* The answer turned out to be on top of my PC under my workstation.  Sometimes these things are necessary.

** Another case of 'spiel'.

Spiel

After a brief discussion about the etymology of the word spiel I looked it up. 

I now know:
game in Afrikaans is wedstryd
game in Danish is leg, spil
game in Dutch is spel
game in French is jeu
game in German is Spiel, Partie, Spiel
game in Italian is giuoco
game in Latin is venatio, ludus
game in Norwegian is spill (which I knew already)
game in Portuguese is jogo
game in Spanish is baraja, juego
Game Translations

I am entertained, and vaguely satisfied, that spiel is rooted in game/play.

Burning the Man

I fear my memories will fade. 

I hadn’t realised the true pain involved with Burning Man; the heat, the tent-snapping storms, the stinging dust that swells your hands and feet, the blistering walking distances, the need for radical self-reliance and vinegar. 

Yet, somehow, whether deliberate or not, this makes the place.  You need each other, a community whole.  Everyone gives, everyone tries to make the experience good for all.  Everyone contributes from volunteering, to running theme camps, even just in keeping the place free of MOOP. 

It is a community trying to have fun and express themselves in a location that is, simply put, out to get you.

We drove in at dawn, past the words, to Will Call and my ticket.  The sun broke across the playa; it wasn’t morning mist refracting the light, it was dust.

We were camped at about 2.40, spanning between Grasslands and Habitat, with the lovely people associated with Wolf and Lamb and the Sapphire Portal.    Their shade structures astounded and their showers were by far the best in town.  I might not have got to know many of them well, but I will always love them all for providing my lovely home.  Just as I will always love the people I travelled up with for their forethought, planning and browbeating.

Despite the pain*, I had a week I will hold in my heart and treasure for a long time.

I still dream of it.   I will return. 

My fracturing memories in no clear order:

Dawn over the playa, dragonflies mating, my battery-powered fairy-lights that lit up the world and the moth that loved them, the sapphire portal, camelbacks and dry mouths, long walks, the bliss of cycling (although not on the dark sand), the ‘musical’ portaloos, ‘high strung’ aka hammock-land and lovely naps, the rebuilt man glowing in the dark, the necessity of tutus, joy of water misters, my poor aim with waterpistols, great cthulu and duck the bike guardians, hair that will not move for dust, the problems with tutus, eating at the snack food glory hole, the volunteers dancing on the bar at centre camp, the beauty of tinned pineapple and cold cold margaritas, Barbie death camp, dance dance immolation, watching the lights spin through 3D glasses, the slow burn of the temple, the cheers at the thunderdome, animal crackers, trampolines, rebar, the physical pain of packing up and leaving, "they don't let it stop them", the tiny room of mirrors at the hive, visiting spikes, centre camp and lemonade, the fear the rain will turn the dust to glue, giggling at friends at the roller disco, the draining of the coolers, chasing glowing balls in the dark, monkeys swinging round in the dark, the drying shower water stained by the beetroot people, the Cheshire cat art car (amongst others) sailing by in the dark like giant luminescent leviathans in the deep (where us humans were but small fry), my first ride on an art car, getting hit by swinging western doors, missing people, finding people, my amazing escape from sunburn, the man who told people they were beautiful with all sincerity as he passed them in the crowd, the pickled runner bean in the bloody mary, how smoking summoned dust storms two days running, vitamin water, climbing on vans for the view, dancing until dawn, night golf and a crocodile head, the gift of lovely pasta bolognese, remembering my cup, forgetting my cup, the dust that creeps in everywhere, visiting Hobbiton, queuing for ice, hugs from the tequila-giving eyeball riders, getting lost in the dark and somehow still found by friends, sitting on a sofa in the middle of nowhere in the night reading the letters, air raid sirens filling the air and an explosion that rocked the world, the simple realisation that I was home.

[Photoset] [other flickr photos: 'burningman07']

---

* I'm really proud I went to burning man, camped in the desert and came away without the normally inevitable sunburn.

Breaking Patterns

*** Warning: This is quite a self-indulgent post for me. ***

... And so I took a holiday.  Somewhat.

Looking back on the last several years there is a pattern.  I have been on holiday several times.  The majority were busman’s holidays.  I have invariably brought work from home with me as well for good measure.  I've had no holidays without work. 

That’s just what you do.

(Especially in research.  It’s not like I can leave my research at the office.)

So I took advantage of the fact that I was going to the states to present (x2) and work as a student volunteer at a conference in DC to go on holiday.   I extended my flights and bought others.  I planned a tour.

(I took some work with me to be getting on with of course.  Who needs tourism when you have editing to be getting on with?)

________________________

The first week away was at the conference.  Working, presenting and socialising turned out to be pretty full-time, so I didn’t get my additional work done.  I hadn’t shaken myself out. 

I did have a good try with the facepaint though. [Photoset]

________________________

The second week away involved imposing on an acquaintance in LA.  ‘Put me up, I’ll be quiet and get on with work. I’ll be good, you won’t even need to talk to me.’ 

This started a shift.  I did that work I’d brought with me, I procrastinated with tv, but somehow, inevitably I slowly faced the fact I was somewhere new, not Brighton.  I was away from all close friends, all procrastinating work.  I didn't know what to do with myself - going out exploring on my own was unthinkable. 

My rhythms broke, my thinking changed. 

For the first time in a decade (or in my life?) I slept in front of people (people I didn’t even know well) with trust – they came, went, chatted, sewed while I slept.  I went out and met new people.  I slowly  remembered just a little bit what it was to be self-sufficient, to understand that my mood was my own and, fundamentally, that I actually quite liked my own company*.  I still wasn’t comfortable with the idea that I was completely on my own, but I was working on it.

I made it out and explored. [Photo Set]

________________________

Week three (and a bit) was in Burning Man, about which I shall write more and separately.  I didn't camp with my friends from Brighton, a chance choice which helped me further expand this idea of my own individual coherence.  It was hard.  By the end of the first day (after two days awake) I was hot, lost, dehydrated and fretting that I had friends out there somewhere that I couldn’t find.  I had no laptop, no mobile, no work to read, to hide behind, and I was somewhere alien to everything I knew. 

Over the days I slowly coalesced my thoughts, and grounded myself.  It was lovely when I found my friends, but it made me realise how much I missed my once independent spirit.  I re-evaluated my fear of walking about alone; was alone so bad? Where was my random self-reliance? 

I don’t know at what point things shifted, I don’t know that they ever did completely.

All I know is that by the time I left I was happy and content in myself.  Closer to someone I recognised. [Photoset]

________________________

Week four culminated with the journey to San Jose from Burning Man, where I realised I was brave enough to rekindle an old friendship, which in turn led me to San Francisco, views, beaches, twisting roads in town and mountain, the smell of eucalyptus, sons of butcher at high speed and good laughs.  The next day I took my time, rediscovered sleep, encouraged randomness met up with Sophie and went exploring.  Oddly happy. [Photoset]

Thankfully this set my mood well for the two days and four flights that my odd travel plans had left me for the journey back to Brighton.  I didn’t mind the occasional security issues**, the fact I almost missed one of my connecting flights due to my phone resetting its clock, and I actively rejoiced when my bags turned up with me at my final destination.

________________________

Hopefully I will carry the memories of this time with me for a good while longer. 

I had a holiday.  I welcomed randomness and wonder back into my life. 

More astoundingly  I... relaxed.

------

* Even if I do talk to myself a bit too much.

** Such as the fact that we could not leave our seats during the short-haul flight to DC, not even for the toilet.

Abandoning the White Rabbit

And so, before I left for my month away from town I ended up asking myself what my priorities were.  I’d somewhat (no, not somewhat, certainly) neglected my health and my social life over the past year. 

Of course I blame it on my ‘white rabbit’ issue.  Friends and health fall behind work issues when there are time concerns (‘I’m late, I’m late’).  This is just the way I have always worked.

The problem is that I am always late for something.  I always have something I ought to be doing.

The immediate and overdue gets dealt with, the ongoing slips and slides.

When do you face you are doing too much?

How can you convince yourself that a reprioritising is necessary?  Give yourself some time back to play, move, stretch, chat, wander and wonder?

I wasn’t sure so I took a holiday...

And...

I only worked for some of it.

Y’know what, I’m even going to find time to write about it.  Honestly.

Sundial

In 1152, Eleanor of Aquitaine gave a sundial ring to Henry II so that he would know when to leave the hunt for their love trysts. Moved by her love, Henry ordered his jewellers to make a copy for Eleanor – inlaid with diamonds and engraved with the Latin words Carpe diem (seize the day).

I realised while packing for my long trip to the states that I could not find my Aquitaine Sundial Ring.  I needed it to tell the time and tell stories in the desert. 

And so I ordered myself a new ring, as these days there are stories I cannot tell without it. 

Those Words

I woke up this morning with a sharp remembering.  I had forgotten.

Once the walls of my bedroom were tessellated thick with books, pictures, paintings, ephemera and words.  Once, that now empty space between the picture rail and the ceiling was filled with hand-written quotes I had lovingly gathered, captured, set down.

I would go to sleep with them and wake up with them before my eyes.

Where are my quotes and words now?  What was it they told me?

Words Slipping

And so my writing lacks depth, beauty, truth.

Or so it seems to me.

I see the souls of others, bared on the screen, bringing tears to my eyes.

I remember how I locked down rather than show myself.

I wonder where the me is that I kept confined for so long, wrapped up tight.

I look for my defended self.

And I wonder where my words lie.

Damned Fine Coffee

I have recently started a piece of idle musing.  Do I drink so much coffee because it was featured so strongly in Twin Peaks? 

Did I watch it at just the right age for me to take up coffee and smoking (stopped for almost two years) because of all the placement?  And why did I never take to cherry pie? 

These really are important questions and vital for me to consider over and above doing my work.

Return to the Blue

The worst of the academic year is now over.  Not worst, just busiest.

I can feel my stress levels reducing, and am hoping to be a lot more social and a lot less tense. 

The. Tension. Was. Beginning. To. Be. A. Problem. I admit.

(Two pieces of work left, I can see the end.)

To celebrate, since teaching for the academic year is over*, I have reverted to the blue side.

Phew.

And relax*.

And breathe.

---

* I don't like to have my hair dyed when leading classes of postgraduates.  The class is mostly full of people who are the same age as me and just as bright, if not more so.  This leads to a desire on my part to give them as little to judge me on as possible.  Pigeonholed immediately can be hard to work round.  I still remember Liverpool as a teenager, the busload of excited children staring and my abortive attempts to explain I was not a football fan to people on the streets. Things are different these days, but people still presume on first glance.

** I took a trip to see an old friend that practices shiatsu.  I hadn't been in five years it turned out.  I appear to be much better now than I was then, surprisingly, and it was a lovely calming experience (so calming I fell asleep).  All the points she mentioned that I felt strongly about were for 'calming the mind' entertainingly.

Rushed and yet not

Working flat out, continuous but relaxed, long days, long weeks, my promised holiday to myself melted away into yet more opportunities I could not miss.  Been a good month; have forgotten most that is not work related.

I had a birthday, lovely time at the hideous and yet fun Bali Brasserie.  Grateful to all my friends that came and reminded me that I had not lost them all to work.

I did a storytelling performance, stood up and told in front of a paying audience.  Wish I had spent more than a couple of hours in prep, but seemed ok in the end.

I slept I think.

I wish I had had more time to enjoy the outdoors, to bask in the spring air and gaze at the flowers.  Mild regrets.

Holes in time.

Five Things

I find it strange how you can watch a meme spread, yet still be surprised when it eventually hits you. 

So, I’ve been tagged by Rosie to share my 'Five things you didn’t know about me'.  This proved an interesting challenge, so I am writing this for those who may not know me personally (where I have few secrets left).

1. When I was little I always wanted to open a craft shop.  One where I would make things all day and sell them on.  I was terrible at knitting, dressmaking, crochet and carving, but good at rugmaking, tapestry, cushion making, embroidery, sweet-making, and flower-pressing.  It was either that or become a writer. 
2. I compulsively recite the poem Jabberwocky if I am reminded of it. Once I start I just can't stop.  It can become awkward, so I started mastering speed-recital.
3. I still live with my father.  There's no shame in that, just a reflection on house prices in Brighton.  I often consider moving to Norway (where I have citizenship) just because house prices are cheaper.
4. When I was a teenager I indexed all of my video tapes so I had a list of every program on every tape to the second they started and ended on the tape.  I hate to think how many days I wasted setting it up.
5. The best job I ever had was cleaning.  I enjoyed it; I got to listen to music, muse my own thoughts, get paid for exercise and get satisfaction from a job visibly well done.  Somehow this doesn't make me good at cleaning my own home.

Who next?  Hmm.  OK.  The five I choose to tell me more about themselves are: Tom, James, Sophy, Rachel, Esther.  Tag, you’re it.

Coming Up

Expectations for the coming year:

• Travel outside Europe for the first time
• Get myself published (more)
• Stop working for Hertfordshire (at some point)
• Organise a couple more exciting events (three in the works already)
• Sort out at least two of the four-and-a-half stone I gained this year
• Catch up with my friends (relearn conversation)
• Learn to knit and or make more interesting things
• Work myself to the bone
• Take a week off over Easter
• Finally sort my finances
• Take two weeks off travelling in August
• Make some more progress on my PhD
• Enjoy life

More?  Need there be more?

List 2006

If I had to list them as a top 10 (in alphabetical order):

Children of Men
Hoodwinked
Lady in the Water
Little Miss Sunshine
Pan's Labyrinth
The Departed
The Prestige
The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada
V For Vendetta
Walk The Line

Whirlwinds

So once again the tail-end of the year turned into a whirlwind of activities.

(Combined with some much needed lie-ins.)

After the visit to Devon, the xmas eve present opening, the cooking of the xmas lunch, the feeding of the 14 on boxing day, the three-day jaunt to Hastings (to play Munchkin, Cyberpunk, win at poker and generally relax), a 30th birthday party, and then New Year I now find I have much too much work to do.

And that, yet again, I have broken my phone.  In the same way as last time...

(I fear I should not be allowed near technology.)

I'm excited for the coming year.  It will be hectic, but should be pretty darned interesting.

So yes, erm, let us see how this one unfolds.

Time To Do It

And so, with my lovely supply of Kinder Milk Slices (supplied in a brown bag under the table by the lovely Rachel) having ebbed low my thoughts turn to the obvious facts.

I may actually need to start thinking about my weight.

Properly and all that.

I have always ignored my weight: when I am big I am big, and when I am not so big well, does it make any difference? (beyond needing clothes to fit all sizes)

However, right now my health is poor.  My blood pressure is worryingly high, I keep having dizzy spells and numb spells, and my asthma is apparent in a way it hasn't been since I stopped smoking.

The sedentary researcher life is not the best.

Never having done this 'dieting' thing before, I am quite daunted.

But I suppose it is time to try something new.  It is needed.

Gum Ground

Walking in this morning, past the local college, I looked down.

The ground was splattered, white like paint, with the ghosts of a million discarded chewing-gum souls, slowly fading away.

Left in the Night

After a day left working without the internet (followed by a coffee-in-laptop incident I would prefer to forget), I started wondering about the general internet addiction we all suffer from.  (Don't deny it)

Imagine you woke up in the morning and the internet had left in the night like a wayward lover.  If you could not see videos, emails, websites.  If it had left you without even a note to hold.

How weird would that be?   

Halloween

(Ooops, forgot to put this live!)

So, after finally getting to experiment with pumpkin carving after all these years, I've decided that next year I'll be going for the dried shrunken heads instead.  It looks like less work and gives me a use for some of the cooking apples we end up with at this time of year as well.

Secret Bookcase

We were running out of shelf space in our back room, so I thought it'd be a fun project to build a shelf unit...

This Bookshelf Hidden Door has me wishing I had enough room so I could mimic this.  Want. (via MAKE)

I know I have enough books, I just need to magically find a room of my own...

Car Re-Bang

So, newly fixed just two months ago it was. 

And then this morning, while it was parked, I got to watch it reversed into.

Ho hum.

It does seem to be a lot of trouble owning a car sometimes...

Laptop Re-death (mk 2)

Today they took away the beast that is my twice-died Dell laptop.

May this renewal breathe some permanent life into the machine.

I can hope.

Either way, I shall move the rock collection on its return.

(And, this time, I mean it).

Rabbit Birthday

    Happy Nabaztag Day!  We all love wifi bunnies.

Light

If tomorrow dawns without humans, even from orbit the change will be evident almost immediately, as the blaze of artificial light that brightens the night begins to wink out. Indeed, there are few better ways to grasp just how utterly we dominate the surface of the Earth than to look at the distribution of artificial illumination. By some estimates, 85 per cent of the night sky above the European Union is light-polluted; in the US it is 62 per cent and in Japan 98.5 per cent. In some countries, including Germany, Austria, Belgium and the Netherlands, there is no longer any night sky untainted by light pollution.
(New Scientist article)

If humans vanished overnight at least it would only take 24-48 hours for the light pollution to clear up.  That's the important one right?

Hair's Curl

So today I did a potentially stupid thing.

I experimented.

I got a perm.  A full spiral perm on previously bleached hair.

The fears regarding hair-perming horror stories and 80's throwback frizz did not come to pass.

No 'fro Joh.

I think I quite like it.

Hair's Breath

It seems that a poem I wrote has had an eleventh-hour reprieve and made it into the forthcoming issue of Succour. 

I am probably very happy about this, but it is strange to have something so close to me be rendered real.

Bear Cushion

So, the big cushion I threatened to make with my excess fun-fur has finally come to life.

Luckily I happened to have ten tonnes of stuffing lying around from a failed pirate teddy-bear project.

I'm now afraid it may eat me, but at least I will be comfortable while it happens.

Waking

The problem with going to bed at 7pm, exhausted, is that you invariably end up waking up at 1am in the morning confused...

Or so I find.

But then it is rare that I end up so tired. 

As rare as my handing in my notice to an employer who has been nothing but wonderful for three and a half years. 

Exciting things are on the horizon (and none of them seem to involve commuting to Hertfordshire from Brighton).

Shame about the sleep though.

Tech Meltdown

Hmm.  I am currently feeling, erm, either unlucky or dim.

At the Woodland Animal Disco last night I managed to crack my phone - destroying it forever.

Gaah.  Tech does not like me this week.

Laptop Re-death

Hmm.  I am currently feeling, erm, either unlucky or dim.

Three months ago I broke one of my laptop computers through an unfortunate pebble incident.

One fell on to my laptop.

From my collection of stones that I keep above it.

Blue screen death and a month of data retrieval and rebuilding it cost me.

Of course that was then.

Except, well...

It seems to have happened again.

Gaah.

Fear of Voles

Due to the sad lack of delivery of a bulk order of fun fur I need to make other plans...

The fur, should it ever arrive, will now form the basis for a large floor cushion.  My rear may be well-padded at the moment but I strongly believe that it is always good to provide a comfortable place in the office to sit when faced with large piles of reading.  And, believe me, the pile is looming.

('sides which I am jealous as everyone else has bean-bags).

I don't know what to do about my fancy dress costume for tomorrow though.  I appear sadly lacking in costume and am starting to fear the possibility of being 'voled'.

Tibbar Tibbar

The most common modern version states that a person should say 'rabbit, rabbit' upon waking on the first day of each new month, and on doing so will receive good luck for the remainder of that month.

No returns.

Circulus

Turns out there are Circulus videos on YouTube. I don't think I need to say more.

Chest-Hair Challenge

Sometimes some advertising just cannot fail.

Long Bank Holiday

Long bank holiday weekend. In short:

Fajita Mah Jong Tequila Cat Biscuits Circulus Harry the Kitten Kahlua Buzz Pop Quiz Ursa Herstmonceux Acorn gift Pig-in-a-bun Stag Whistle Mousetown Peppermint Creams Weapons Weapon Wielders Wooden Flowers Kobold Fire Medieval Dice Interesting Stuff Middle Farm Curiosity Cola Swordfighting Barbecue Hat Marching Band Soundtrack Koba Wedding Party Rum Chocolate Cocktails Malachi Aurora Chelsea Bug Zapper Salami Garden Gig My Old Piano I am Cow He is Cow Dying Doggy

We then brought out the dancing bears and ate curried sausages.

Sleep.

Trek Motivation

Because the Cap'n can't hear you over the sound of how awesome he is.

Ergonomics

So my new shiny laptop got fixed. Fixed at my home and all major parts completely replaced. No complaints or arguments. I like Ergo.

Shouldering the burden

Today, after long months* of not doing quite as much as I would like for my shoulders I was finally released from physiotherapy. Of course, as my shoulders have improved so other limbs have started acting up. Such is the way with joint hypermobility or so I was told.

Time to get me to a swimming pool again. It has been some time.

- - - - - - - - -

* I was originally referred in Autumn 2005 when they first fell apart.

School Photo

So, after escaping the rainstorms in Banbury on Sunday we drove south. As we neared Brighton the sun finally emerged and the skies went quiet.

This was a good sign for the 5th Annual School Photo due to meet at 2pm.

At 2pm the heavens reopened.

We persevered.

So this year the photo will be a little different.

A different location anyway as we are not afraid of change, only rain.

My photos are up - but I am looking forward to the set from this year which is set to be impressive if the professionalism of the photographer is anything to go by.

School Photo 2002 (edited)
School Photo 2003
School Photo 2004 (I seem to be missing this one... I shall link it soon)
School Photo 2005 (1)
School Photo 2005 (2)

Croquet Club

This, being my second time to Wroxton I came prepared...

I brought games.

This year our camping weekend was productively spent:

* Go
* Mah Jongg
* Airsoft Tincan Alley*
* Boules
* Croquet
* Poker
* Golf
* BBQ'ing

*Cough* Obviously I excelled at all of the above.

Zwei Metal

So, back from a week in Germany.

Back from beer, rum cocktails (Rob Zombie's what else?), caffeine drinks, table football and more metal than I'd want to shake a black stick of blackest metal at.

Did the Reeperbahn in Hamburg (where I found a lovely pocket flick-knife for only £1 - erm, lovely) and the obligatory festival thing (METAAAAAAAAAAL). I got to see bands. Some of whom I had heard of.

I occasionaly wish I liked metal more, especially now this is my second time...

I wish that either J.B.O (with their wonderful medleys) or DethKlok ("By the power of all that is evil I command you to awaken and make me a sandwich!" - see a sample) had been there. I believe that metal is is much improved by the comical...

But otherwise wonderful.

I am now Zwei Metal and more metal than most people that actually love it. Bizarre.

Either way my brain is now much more relaxed (through the power of painfully loud music) and ready to get straight back to my research. I even slept for 12 hours straight on my return - a feat I have not managed for years.

To celebrate I have given in and have set up a Flickr account for my somewhat shaky alcohol-fuelled phone-photos of Wacken to live...

Inside the Pants

Do you know what the number one health risk in America is?
Obesity. They say we're in the middle of an obesity epidemic.
An epidemic like it is polio. Like we'll be telling our grand kids about it one day.
The Great Obesity Epidemic of 2004.
"How'd you get through it grandpa?"
"Oh, it was horrible Johnny, there was cheesecake and pork chops everywhere."

I have to admit I've become quite taken with "Underwear Goes Inside the Pants" by Lazy Boy since the edited version started being played on the radio.

(I'm firmly ignoring the fact it is related to the horror that was Aqua.)

Stuck

So last Friday I crashed my car for the first time.

My first actual* crash.

It shook me up.

I have decided that 9 in the morning, across two lanes at Preston Circus, is a bad time to permanently affix yourself to the tow bar of a Landrover.

Very bad.

The police could not separate us. The AA man could not jack us apart. It took a while but in the end the tow bar was dismantled from underneath and our cars were once more free.

It resulted in a fleeing in shame and shock to Devon for the weekend.

Thank goodness for Devon: paddling at Beer (where I drank cider) and an immense Sunday Roast did wonders for my mood.

I'm still a bit fretsome, but it had to happen sooner or later I suspect.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

* I am discounting the drunken incident when I steered someone else's car into a petrol pump and a VW van. I was only 17 and couldn't drive then.

Partners in Research

It starts with MEN...

I was introduced to American Women: Partners in Research today. It was a short film made in the 1960's to describe the market research undertaken by Corning Glass Works prior to marketing a coffeemaker. It aims to suggest design through using real women to do research ("market" research) might be a good thing...

It is hilarious. And makes me relieved I'm doing my research now.

My how things date.

End of the Line

The pub at which the Tuesday social* I attend is held, as with most pubs, has a standard song list.

Amongst the songs played each week is one that distracts me and reduces me to silent contemplation. It carries the weight of memories that I cannot shift.

And yet, hearing it is comforting. And fills me with hope.

Well it's all right, even if they say you're wrong
Well it's all right, sometimes you gotta be strong
Well it's all right, as long as you got somewhere to lay
Well it's all right, everyday is judgement day
...
Well it's all right, even when push comes to shove
Well it's all right, if you got someone to love
Well it's all right, everything'll work out fine
Well it's all right, we're going to the end of the line
...
Well it's all right, riding around in the breeze
Well it's all right, if you live the life you please
Well it's all right, even if the sun dont shine
Well it's all right, were going to the end of the line

-- End of the Line (Traveling Wilbury's)

It's ok.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

* This is an extended career-based social network, part of the new style social career space being developed outside of work hours, or so I learned at a recent seminar.

Once Were Fish

My father has removed the object of my childhood bad dreams.

The outside toilet.

It is now a small modern toilet. Not a giant metal monstrosity, with strong memories.

Once there were fish heads which would stare up at me from it.

Fish heads that refused to flush despite my mother's attempts.

Time and again I would not know what would be staring up at me when I went to use it.

I will miss the memories.

Fish No More.

In celebration:

Fish heads, Fish heads
Roly poly Fish heads
Fish heads, Fish heads
Eat them up, Yum

In the morning
Laughing, happy Fish Heads
In the evening
Floating in the soup

Fish heads, Fish heads
Roly poly Fish heads
Fish heads, Fish heads
Eat them up, Yum

Ask a Fish head
Anything you want to
They won't answer
They can't talk

Fish heads, Fish heads
Roly poly Fish heads
Fish heads, Fish heads
Eat them up, Yummm

Voices in my Car

My car radio has started talking to me.

I'm not worried.

My CD screeches to static while I drive. A voice is audible over the scratching play-fast-forward sound.

It says different things each time.

Help me.
They are setting me up.
No.

Interestingly it seems that when my car stereo complains about a CD it switches to radio until the problem is resolved. Just for a fraction of a second...

I just wish I knew the station it was broadcasting.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

UPDATE: Changing to a CD which is not scratched appears to have resolved the problem. No more voices. Good. Phew. etc.

Unknown Trees

So I have sponsored a tree.

Doin' my bit for charity inni?

Paying towards water and trees makes sense to me.

Just wish I knew which tree was mine.

Not that I want to hug it or anything mind.

Caribbean Hats

The recent pirate expedition was suitably tricorned up, but I felt a bit overwhelmed by tentacles...

So many tentacles.

And none of them eating the remains of the West Pier.

Patches

I helped steward at Patchfest yesterday in order to stem the flood of Glasto nostalgia I get on off years.

Resurrecting my volunteer management and tin shaking skills (donate your money here) I braved my way through the day, directing lost children, suffering from the heat and free B&J ice-cream. Even the music line-up was good including the ever-present Fish Brothers but I sadly missed the wonderfully named Vogue Gyratory.

Come summer come. (Maybe turn down the heating a bit though guys.)

Screaming Men

At the recent conference in Finland I witnessed an impressing thing.

No. Not the drinking. The shouting.

The men shouting.

Ok, that in itself is not that impressive.

They were Shouting Men.

And they shouted and yelled their way into my heart.

They are Men That Shout.

Now to set up the Brighton Yellers and see if we can't beat their Star Spangled Banner...

My First Paper (Well, poster but it'll do)

Extreme Programming and Agile Processes in Software Engineering - of which a whole two pages were written by me.

Nice to find while browsing.

Ground

June Lovely June
Thou beautifies the ground
The notes of the cuckoo through the glad woods resound

As unexpectedly sung by everyone at the Seminar I have just attended.

Never did find out why we all sang it.

But I don't think I need to know.

Bags Now Found

Finland, Finland, Finland,
The country where I am right now,
Eating breakfast not dinner,
And then finding the hall.
Finland, Finland, Finland.
Finland has it all.

`All' includes:

* My bags after they got lost for 3 hours by Finnair.

* Free wireless (yay)

* A 21 hour & 45 minute long day. How much more daylight could a girl need?

* A lot of trees.

Finland

Finland, Finland, Finland,
The country where I want to be,
Eating breakfast or dinner,
Or snack lunch in the hall.
Finland, Finland, Finland.
Finland has it all.

You're so sadly neglected
And often ignored,
A poor second to Belgium,
When going abroad.

Finland, Finland, Finland,
The country where I quite want to be,
Your mountains so lofty,
Your treetops so tall.
Finland, Finland, Finland.
Finland has it all.

Including me from tomorrow. It should be a good conference, although it appears eXtremely sold out.

(Sigh, I seem to have caught something from my brother...)

Management Issues - Palpatine Style

From the Top Down: A Film About the University of Sussex Management

Not much to add. I think it says it all.

Wow Comic Strip Truth

If I played World of Warcraft then I would think this was scarily true.

And I do.

Must return to offline life. Must.

Candle in Bosom

"Good evening to you," said the white bear.

"The same to you," said the man.

"Will you give me your youngest daughter? If you will, I'll make you as rich as you are now poor," said the bear.

Well, the man would not be at all sorry to be so rich; but still he thought he must have a bit of a talk with his daughter first; so he went in and told them how there was a great white bear waiting outside, who had given his word to make them so rich if he could only have the youngest daughter.

The girl said "No!" outright. Nothing could get her to say anything else...

(Which was a fairly sensible response to my mind)

---

Last night I once again had the pleasure of hearing Giles Abbott tell the story East of the Sun and West of the Moon. There was a bear, winds of all accents and exploding trolls. And it was good.

Over a Year

So the devil's day is passed and my energy is returning.

It doesn't matter if it was flu or exhaustion that ate at me.

It gave me the chance to devour an actual novel.

And for that I am grateful.

All is Quiet

In short: Went to the packed out place that was Bognor Rox Festival to see Fun Lovin' Criminals. Discovered the horror that is Bognor Face. Had a jolly good, if obscure, time. Escaped from Bognor. Quietly.

Mountain Fireworks

I don't know what's going on
I've got no clue as to what went wrong.
But I don't care.
If there goes another one...

So, for my sins...

I went to see the Mountain Firework Company on Tuesday, who I discovered while doing judging for the Brighton and Hove Virtual Festival.

And, once more, it turns out that one of the people on stage was a member of the glasto crew. The spiegeltent is the place for people I know to perform it seems.

I should've known...

----

On an aside I am currently heartbroken that I cannot see the performance on Rumi due to it having sold out at just the wrong moment.

Back to School

There was a strange feeling of coming home, and yet not being home; of familiar smells and shapes and corridors half-remembered, and yet recognised – like the fading yellow paint on one of the radiators.

Having gone to the school but having chosen to leave for sixth-form I never studied in the sixth form block. But I did once clean it. I had so many memories of pushing a broom up and down the corridors, of turning it ready to push more dust along, that I was lost when the man leading us turned to what had once been a path through to a computer room and started heading up some stairs. Stairs which had not been there before.

I had known that the sixth-form had now a block on top of it, now had two floors where one had previously sufficed, but had not realised that I would be going there. And so I faced it.

The stairs were worn, the banister broken. All I could see marked how much time there was between myself and the people I had come to study, and yet, yet, I could have been one of them I thought.

----

And thus I mark the brief study I did of my secondary school sixth-form; a day where I bumped into friends, am not recognised by teachers, ate food in offices which were once Home Economics rooms, remember maggots and brooms and outside cupboards for secret smoking, and a house with a dog, and realise how far I have come.

And how small the central staircase really is. My dreams lied, it will not swallow the world.

Withdean Hall

Yea, and it spake to me thus mockingly:
"Resist me not, with me there is no strife,
Dids't thou not call upon me, I am come
To be the Guardian Angel of thine home,
To be a light to lighten all thy life
Henceforth we will dwell together, thou and I."

Today I took a brief excursion out from my work at the University to once more go on the cemetery tour.

I learned two important things:

1) Blowing on a dandelion will tell you the exact time time to the minute (3pm it turned out). It was a very accurate clock...

2) In the extra-mural cemetery a man is buried. A man who wrote of vampires and werewolves in Victorian times. A man who "has been described as 'the first Goth' and 'the Quentin Crisp of the 1890s'." A man who used to live in the hall at the bottom of my road. The hall with the inverted pentegrams. At last I have the answer to the question I have idly wondered for so many years...

Back to work now... But with thoughts of mad mad Count Stenbock...

Towards the last the Count was mentally as well as physically ill. At Withdeane Hall he terrified the domestic staff with his persecution complex and his delirium tremens so scared the young Mowatts that they had to be moved to more distant rooms. On his travels he had been escorted, and with him went a dog, a monkey and a life-size doll. He was convinced that the doll was his son and referred to it as 'le Petit comte'. Every day it had to be brought to him, and when it was not there he would ask for news of its health. The Stenbocks believed that a dishonest monk - or perhaps a Jesuit - had extorted large sums of money from him under the pretence of paying for the education of 'le Petit Comte'.

Madness.

Burst of Pink

Today the ground is marked with puddles of pale pink petals, freshly fallen and dense, from the many cherry trees. It is a young girls dream of colour.

The trees have marked time once more and dropped their blossoms in unison. I am happy that the world is turning as it should, with no interaction from me.

So I shall mark this thought, and go see the sky explode with fireworks. Content.

Things are.

Out for the voodoo that you do

So, tonight, I finally get around to braving the horrors of Voodoo Vaudeville.

I must say I think I am quite excited, and hope that it ends up being just as entertaining a performance as the Tiger Lillies last night (and puts those images out of my head).

I love the festival, it gives me so many vital excuses to postpone getting on with my work.

Host Ctn

And then it broke, and then it was fixed days later. Such is the way of the hosting company...

Host

I have hosting issues. This has been impossible to update for the last three weeks, and now, now it is magically fixed.

And I knew it was fixed because I started receiving comment spam again.