World Wide

Hello to the person, people or robot in Antigua and/or Barbuda who's given this blog 41 pageviews in the last 24 hours. I do love the stats page, but I wish there was a way to tell which visitors are evil mechanoids and which are people with a genuine interest in vague and largely meaningless drivel about memory competitions. It would just be nice to know just how many people stumble across this page searching for drivel, that's all.

Anyway, while I'm rambling, let me confess that I've very much let the memory training slide for the last couple of months, after being all enthusiastic about it earlier in the year. Maybe the people at the Friendly competition this weekend can encourage me to get back into it? It would probably help if you all jeer at me for not being able to remember things.

Friendly factoids

Sunday's competition will be the eighth Friendly/Cambridge Memory Championship! Interestingly, nobody has ever won the competition twice. This goes hand-in-hand with the other interesting fact that nobody who has won the championship has ever come back to it, ever. That's... kind of worrying, isn't it? Do I not applaud the winner enough? Well, Jonas von Essen is hopefully going to buck that trend and come back to defend his title this year, so maybe there'll be a new page in the history books...

Here's a memory memory that occurs to me - At the first Cambridge championship in 2006, one of the names in the Names & Faces discipline was the wonderfully evocative surname “Catchpole”. One of the German competitors remembered it as “Polegrab”, while one of the English memorisers (who didn’t have such a good excuse; it’s not that uncommon a name in England), rendered it as “Grabpole”.

It’s a natural mistake to make - poles, as a rule, don’t move, so if you picture someone ‘catching’ one, it will usually be a mental image of a hand grabbing a stationary pole. And when you come to translate it back from pictures into words, ‘grab pole’ is what will come to mind...

A Ba Ni Bi

I don't watch the Eurovision Song Contest. And I mean that in the way that some people say they don't smoke, because they only have three or four cigarettes a day, ten at most. As usual this year, I saw that it was on, decided I wasn't going to bother watching it, sort of left it on in the background while not actually watching it as such, and saw the whole thing.

The songs were pretty uniformly awful, as usual, but there's always one that I like, and that usually finishes somewhere low down in the top half - this year it was Hungary, with the very catchy "Kedvesem", by ByeAlex. I'd vote for it, if I watched Eurovision.

Rusty

See, I'm so unused to regular blogging, I forgot to mention a whole lot of things I was meaning to. So here's a bonus second post tonight!

I think I've given myself repetitive strain injury, flipping discs. My right thumb is sort of sore.

Also, just worked it out - if I hadn't beaten Imre in our game at Cambridge, he would have won the BGP, despite only coming to two of the three regionals, so that is actually quite cool and makes me feel that the great honour is much more deserved!

Tomorrow, I need to finish printing things out for the Friendly Memory Championship next Sunday! Yes, I've been ultra-organised this year, and have split Printing Things Out Weekend into two semi-weekends, to fit around my schedule! If only my organisation skills extended to having the faintest idea who's coming to the competition and who's staying at my flat, I'd be confident that everything will go just swimmingly...

Oad-thello

See, it was realising my last proper post was about one othello tournament and that I was going to another today, that made me resolve to get back to blogging more regularly. Oadby, traditional home of the first regional of the year, every March, proudly hosted the last regional in 2013's abridged schedule in the middle of May!

It was basically the same lineup of players as in Cambridge - the shortage of people who want to play in these tournaments is a factor in there only being three regionals this year, but we are firmly planning to be back to five or six for 2014. The difference between Cambridge and Oadby was Steve Rowe instead of David, and instead of Adelaide joining us for lunch, there was Jeremy Das joining us for the afternoon. But we stuck with the same format - a round-robin of 20-minute games and then a double round-robin of 5-minuters.

The results were roughly the same, too, except that I didn't beat Imre, meaning that he won the tournament outright, with Iain second. I was third, which means that I'm officially the winner of the British Grand Prix! This is the thing where you get points based on how well you do in each regional, and the overall winner is the BGP champion. The traditional way to win it is to be the one who attends all the regionals in the year, and I successfully carried out this clever strategy this time round (we only had three, and they happened to all be within cheapish travelling distance) to win my first ever BGP title! I'm so proud. That means that I get the George Greaves Memorial Trophy! It cost a whole twenty pounds, so it's a great honour to have on your metaphorical mantlepiece!

I know how much it cost because I'm the treasurer of the British Othello Federation. I never know how much money has been spent on trophies at memory competitions, and I'm always a bit curious. They range from little glass things of the type that can be bought for a fiver on the market, to really big heavy metal things that look like they genuinely cost a packet.

Anyway, my perfect-attendance prize technically qualifies me for the World Othello Championship in Stockholm in October. I'd really like to go, but I can't really foresee having enough money to do that. Barring a lottery win or a surprisingly lucrative memory-themed job, anyway. It's at times like this that I always regret quitting my job and living a life of idle vacuity for months on end, but I'm sure I'll do it again the next time I've built up enough of a stash of money to afford it...

Resolution

You know what? I'm going to start blogging on a daily basis again. And every post will be crackling with wit and effervescent with interesting stuff. Starting tomorrow!

From white to black... then flip them back!

Othello in the spiritual home of the game (in Britain, at least), Cambridge! Having bought extra-cheap advance tickets (the ones that are only valid on the specific trains they're booked for), I was a little worried when I got to Loughborough in the early hours of the morning to hear an announcement that the train down to Ely had been cancelled. Luckily, a porter (or whatever you call the people who work at train stations) came hurrying over to the platform, waving his hands and assuring everyone that the train hadn't been cancelled, it was just the computer that controls announcements had misunderstood the situation. What had actually happened was that the train was redirected - rather than going through places like Oakham and Stamford, it had to go back to Nottingham and then down the other line to Peterborough, avoiding whatever emergency had closed down the line it was supposed to be running on. So it was only cancelled for people who wanted to go to places like Oakham and Stamford, and frankly, I went to Stamford once, and it's really really boring.

So I got to Cambridge no more than fifteen minutes later than I was supposed to, still with plenty of time to walk from the station to the city centre (a walk that takes nearly half an hour - the train station at Cambridge, as well as being impossible to travel to directly from anywhere, is situated a long way from Cambridge proper; legend has it that they planned it that way deliberately, to keep the riff-raff away from the nice place) before the advertised start time of 9:30.

The competition was in the traditional and awesome surroundings of the Junior Parlour of Trinity College, scenic views from the window, right next to the city centre, usually a musician or two outside on the street (it was a violinist today), and there were six of us playing - me, Imre, David Beck, Iain, Roy and Marie - plus Adelaide joining us for lunch. I was worried about finishing in time for my advance-ticket-mandated 17:12 departure, but as it turned out we had more than enough time for a round-robin of 20-minute games followed by a double round-robin of 5-minute ones, a good pub lunch incorporating a British Othello Federation committee meeting and a leisurely stroll back to the middle of nowhere to get to the train station!

Iain won the main tournament on tie-break from Imre, whose sole loss was against me - I've mentioned a few times before that I always somehow beat him, and today's game was a fine example that prompted me to ask "What happened there? I was completely dead, and then suddenly I realised that I was going to win!" Analysing it on the all-knowing computer program WZebra, it's quite fascinating, and I might blog about it at greater length this long weekend. I was well and truly trounced by David and Iain, though. Imre won the five-minute tournament with 8½ out of 10, and I could only manage four wins - it's been a long time since my last speed-othelloing at the MSO, however many years ago.

All in all, a fun day out, and now I've got a normal two-day weekend (albeit with the shops closing early) before I have to go back to work again!

Zoomy of days gone by

Ace has kindly posted pictures of the great York get-together of 2001 on Facebook, and it provokes many thoughts within my brain. Firstly, that I would probably die if I tried to spend three solid days drinking so much booze now, at my age. Secondly, that I really didn't look good back then. Especially when wearing that polka-dot shirt that I thought was cool, but even allowing for that, there's no escaping the fact that that was during the period of my life when I didn't realise I was bald.

This may take some explaining. I knew I was baldING, and had been for years, but my mental image of myself was of someone with a reasonably nice head of hair still, whose receding hairline wouldn't really be noticed by the casual observer, especially if I was wearing my hat. It wasn't until late 2002/early 2003 that I thought to myself on looking in the mirror "Wow, I'm really properly bald! When did that happen?"

So looking at those pictures and seeing myself properly slap-headed in 2001 is a bit of a shock. It really brings home the depths of self-delusion I was under in those days. Hey, I was 24, and such reckless youths are allowed a bit of self-delusion, right? Plus that was during my particularly fat phase, and when I wore big round glasses that I thought made me look eccentric and cool... I'm quite grotesquely nerdy-looking in those pictures, as opposed to the "ultimate nerd who all the other nerds look up to" style that I totally pull off nowadays.

It's probably a good thing that I'm so happy with my appearance now. How many other people can look back on their early-twenties selves and say "Yep, I look a whole lot better now!"

Anyway, I'm going to Cambridge on Saturday for the othello regional! I thought I might have to give it a miss, because I'm really seriously having to avoid spending money at the moment, but advance train tickets sucked me in with their enticing cheapness, and I'll be there and back for £18... plus £10 entry fee for the competition, plus the price of a good pub lunch in one of those expensive Cambridge pubs, plus other ancillary expenditure, but the point is that you're not supposed to add these things up, and anyway, it's still a cheap day out with good company!