Payday today - the penultimate one from Parkhouse. And I'm already planning how to spend it all. I've got to clean up my flat in preparation for my party, then buy some cooking equipment and bake a cake. Okay, I don't really HAVE to do that, but I want to. I haven't properly baked things for years.
Elsewhere, the war of words is still going on between the Mind Sports Olympiad and the British Othello Federation. BOF chairman Aubrey has kindly posted all the emails between him and MSO boss Tony on the BOF mailing list, so we can all keep up with it. Basically, Tony is saying that the MSO needs money from the BOF because it costs them a fortune to host othello tournaments along with all the others they have at the MSO, while Aubrey is politely expressing amazement that any event like the MSO could cost anywhere near the amount Tony is saying it does, as well as explaining that the BOF hasn't actually got any money to spare.
As an MSO and BOF person (possibly the only one who falls quite so much into both camps), I'm really not enjoying this whole affair. It's like having your parents fighting in front of you. I was actually planning to give some of my redundancy money to the MSO fund, since Tony's actively appealing for donations, but then I don't want him to use that to score points over Aubrey. I'll just keep out of it altogether - I'm not in a position to judge the MSO's finances, seeing as Tony asked me to do the accounts for them a couple of years ago and I turned him down.
In other news, my washing machine's playing up. Actually, it has been for ages, but I think it's getting worse. It's still just about washing clothes, though - if I can keep it going until I move out, I'll get a new one then.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Thursday, September 29, 2005
The good, the bad and the ugly...
...things about moving to Burton-on-Trent.
Good: It's much bigger than I thought it was. Lots of shops and things, with a town centre about the size of Lincoln's. Glen did actually tell me that before, but I didn't believe him until I went along and looked around. There's also a Conference football team, Burton Albion, which would mean I could go to an affordable game on a Saturday afternoon without a train journey. And it would certainly be a lot more convenient for work if I lived there.
Bad: I'm pretty sure there isn't a comic shop, although there might be one hidden in a back street somewhere (like comic shops always are). If there is, though, they don't advertise it in Comics International. That'd mean a hassle getting my weekly fix of superhero action. Also, moving house is such a drag in the first place. And I'm still not convinced this job will last.
Ugly: The whole town smells like a brewery. I suppose you get used to this kind of thing if you live there...
All in all, I think I'll commute for a couple of months until I'm sure I'm not going to get sacked for gross incompetence, then find a place to live there.
Anyway, having the day off also gives me a much-needed chance to cram a few more hours TV-watching and comic-reading into a day. I discovered a fascinating cartoon called 'Gnoufs' this afternoon. It's French originally, dubbed into English with a strange variety of regional accents, and as best I can determine from the episode-and-a-half I watched, it's about a group of aliens who've come to Earth in the form of cuddly toys. The half episode was the best - I missed the start, but I have a feeling I wouldn't have had the faintest idea what was going on even if I'd seen it all, which is always a good thing.
Basically, it seems that one of the gang, a jack-in-the-box, had retreated into the dream world at the bottom of his box and the others joined him there. Cue a whole lot of floating past psychedelic imagery and bizarre dialogue: "You all have your own dream world at the bottom of your boxes." "But we haven't got boxes. We've got feet." "Everyone's got boxes. Everyone's existence is on the end of a spring."
And it subsequently turned out that everyone's dream world was the real world, because they all like it so much. The second half of the double-bill, in which one of the characters swaps bodies with a dog, and is nervous of its owner on the grounds that he's Welsh and therefore probably a cannibal, was comparatively tame.
What's particularly weird about this show is the script. I watch a lot of cartoons, and there's a general rule that anything at least theoretically aimed at kids (as this seems to be) should have somewhat dumbed-down dialogue. Nothing too drastic, just enough to keep it comprehensible to younger viewers while still entertaining for older ones. That doesn't seem to apply to the Gnoufs, though. If anything, they go out of their way to use big words, without explaining them. I have not the faintest idea what age group this is meant to be aimed at - possibly it's aimed at very weird 28-year-olds. Possibly I've just watched a very atypical episode and they're normally standard preschool fare. I'll have to see more, anyway. If I could remember what time it was on and which channel, I'd set the video tomorrow.
Also (I've got extra time for writing this thing tonight, so I'm going to go on and on and on for pages and pages. Feel free to skip it) I watched an episode of DS9 on Sky. I confess to being a Star Trek fan, and DS9 in particular, but this particular episode was one of the two I actively dislike, so rather than explain why I like (or at least put up with) all the others, I'm going to go into detail about why this one is so bad.
It's "Inquisition", the episode that introduces Sloan and Section 31, horrible mistakes in both cases. The problem is that the episode does its best to make it clear that a perfect society like the Federation couldn't possibly exist without a shady undercover organisation doing nasty business and dressing all in black. This is really infuriating to me, and completely against the whole idea of what Star Trek is supposed to be about. Individual characters can and should be multi-faceted, even downright evil on occasion, but the setting they're in really should be a representation of what human beings are capable of. A big part of Trek's appeal is that it's so optimistic about the future. When you make out that there's 'dirty work' going on behind the scenes to make the future look bright, it spoils it.
The other DS9 episode I hate, incidentally, is "Body Parts", which is based on a huge, fundamental misunderstanding about how Ferengi culture works. And, like "Inquisition", it has major repercussions on the ongoing storylines, so you can't just ignore it. There are plenty of other bad episodes, but those two are the ones that have something so wrong with them that they tarnish the whole series. "The Storyteller", for example, misses the point of the whole DS9 series (it's a Next Gen-style episode changed with the bare minimum of rewriting into a DS9 show), and has laughably bad plot, dialogue and characterisation, and unforgivably ends with the line "No thanks, I think I've had ENOUGH storytelling for one day!"... but it's fun to jeer at, is never mentioned again and doesn't do anything that undermines the fabric of the universe it's set in. So I'd rather watch that one than "Inquisition".
I've also been buying comics today, and while I've got nothing better to do I thought I'd talk about them too. It has occurred to me, incidentally, that I could split these kinds of rambling posts into several shorter posts, but I quite like the idea of forcing everyone to read the whole long thing. That way people interested in only one of my various hobbies and obsessions can learn about the others. Or just ignore me completely. Either is good.
So, comics. Only two new ones I was interested in buying this week - Young Avengers #7 and the ABC A-Z. Still need to get Ultimates #8 somewhere - I really need to find a good comic shop (by which I mean one that orders too many copies of each comic so they don't run out) or start ordering them in advance. I also got the fifth volume of Exiles in trade paperback form - I'm collecting them now after years of reading it occasionally in the shop but not generally buying it.
The ABC comic is strange. The whole ABC line was set up for Alan Moore to do whatever he liked with a whole new range of characters. It was uniformly brilliant, like everything Moore does. When he got bored with it and moved on to whatever strange things he's doing now (involving human sacrifice and tarot cards, probably), he let other writers play with his characters, foremost among them Peter Hogan, who's writing this one. It consists of a lengthy Tom Strong story recapping his origins and introducing his large supporting cast, and a shorter Jack B Quick story doing essentially the same thing. I have no idea why they thought anyone would want to buy this. Tom Strong is only occasionally published nowadays, and new readers really don't need to know the back story in summary form to understand it. Jack B Quick hasn't appeared in a new story for ages (and I hope he carries on like that if Moore isn't writing it - nobody else could capture the sense of pseudoscientific insanity that makes Jack such fun).
If you want to know what happened in the old Tom Strong stories, go out and buy them. Nobody needs to read an ultra-abridged, soulless synopsis like the A-Z to like the new stuff. I doubt anyone will buy it apart from people like me who buy everything with the ABC logo as a matter of principle. It's not even entirely accurate, for crying out loud - it suggests that Fingel Parallax is still alive, which is either foreshadowing of an upcoming story or (more likely) a flat-out mistake.
Young Avengers #7 is the first part of a new storyline. Marvel comics nowadays come in six-part story arcs so that they fit nicely into a paperback collection, and the first six issues of Young Avengers mostly consisted of writer Allan Heinberg fulfilling the awful remit he'd been handed ("We've decided to do a series about young versions of Captain America, Thor, Iron Man and Hulk. Because Teen Titans is cool, so Young Avengers would be even cooler. Go and write it.") The opening story did that, introduced some less stupid characters, killed off Iron Lad and set it up with some great promise for the future. And did it very entertainingly, albeit with some incomprehensible time travel logic. The first part of the new story looks like it's going to be great. It really could be a big hit - it's selling well, and word-of-mouth is only going to get better now Heinberg's writing the kind of characters he wants to write, and hopefully avoiding world-changing drama. I'd recommend it to anyone who wants to read a genuinely good modern superhero story.
As for Exiles, this collection is Chuck Austen's five-issue fill-in run from 2003. Austen is much maligned in the comics business, and with good cause because he's just not a very good writer, but these ones aren't too bad. The stories don't make a great deal of sense, but that's never been a requirement for Exiles stories. The character interaction is quite fun, and the abundance of characters in the X-Men crossover really works somehow. Stories with more than ten major roles all doing something have always appealed to me for some reason. It's not as good as the Judd Winick stories that appear in the first four collections, but it's still worth reading.
Anyway, that's probably enough babbling for one afternoon/evening in between watching cartoons (Justice League Unlimited is great, by the way). Conclusive proof, if any were needed, that I'm only writing this thing to entertain myself. Imagine being someone else and reading through all that. I shudder to think of it!
Good: It's much bigger than I thought it was. Lots of shops and things, with a town centre about the size of Lincoln's. Glen did actually tell me that before, but I didn't believe him until I went along and looked around. There's also a Conference football team, Burton Albion, which would mean I could go to an affordable game on a Saturday afternoon without a train journey. And it would certainly be a lot more convenient for work if I lived there.
Bad: I'm pretty sure there isn't a comic shop, although there might be one hidden in a back street somewhere (like comic shops always are). If there is, though, they don't advertise it in Comics International. That'd mean a hassle getting my weekly fix of superhero action. Also, moving house is such a drag in the first place. And I'm still not convinced this job will last.
Ugly: The whole town smells like a brewery. I suppose you get used to this kind of thing if you live there...
All in all, I think I'll commute for a couple of months until I'm sure I'm not going to get sacked for gross incompetence, then find a place to live there.
Anyway, having the day off also gives me a much-needed chance to cram a few more hours TV-watching and comic-reading into a day. I discovered a fascinating cartoon called 'Gnoufs' this afternoon. It's French originally, dubbed into English with a strange variety of regional accents, and as best I can determine from the episode-and-a-half I watched, it's about a group of aliens who've come to Earth in the form of cuddly toys. The half episode was the best - I missed the start, but I have a feeling I wouldn't have had the faintest idea what was going on even if I'd seen it all, which is always a good thing.
Basically, it seems that one of the gang, a jack-in-the-box, had retreated into the dream world at the bottom of his box and the others joined him there. Cue a whole lot of floating past psychedelic imagery and bizarre dialogue: "You all have your own dream world at the bottom of your boxes." "But we haven't got boxes. We've got feet." "Everyone's got boxes. Everyone's existence is on the end of a spring."
And it subsequently turned out that everyone's dream world was the real world, because they all like it so much. The second half of the double-bill, in which one of the characters swaps bodies with a dog, and is nervous of its owner on the grounds that he's Welsh and therefore probably a cannibal, was comparatively tame.
What's particularly weird about this show is the script. I watch a lot of cartoons, and there's a general rule that anything at least theoretically aimed at kids (as this seems to be) should have somewhat dumbed-down dialogue. Nothing too drastic, just enough to keep it comprehensible to younger viewers while still entertaining for older ones. That doesn't seem to apply to the Gnoufs, though. If anything, they go out of their way to use big words, without explaining them. I have not the faintest idea what age group this is meant to be aimed at - possibly it's aimed at very weird 28-year-olds. Possibly I've just watched a very atypical episode and they're normally standard preschool fare. I'll have to see more, anyway. If I could remember what time it was on and which channel, I'd set the video tomorrow.
Also (I've got extra time for writing this thing tonight, so I'm going to go on and on and on for pages and pages. Feel free to skip it) I watched an episode of DS9 on Sky. I confess to being a Star Trek fan, and DS9 in particular, but this particular episode was one of the two I actively dislike, so rather than explain why I like (or at least put up with) all the others, I'm going to go into detail about why this one is so bad.
It's "Inquisition", the episode that introduces Sloan and Section 31, horrible mistakes in both cases. The problem is that the episode does its best to make it clear that a perfect society like the Federation couldn't possibly exist without a shady undercover organisation doing nasty business and dressing all in black. This is really infuriating to me, and completely against the whole idea of what Star Trek is supposed to be about. Individual characters can and should be multi-faceted, even downright evil on occasion, but the setting they're in really should be a representation of what human beings are capable of. A big part of Trek's appeal is that it's so optimistic about the future. When you make out that there's 'dirty work' going on behind the scenes to make the future look bright, it spoils it.
The other DS9 episode I hate, incidentally, is "Body Parts", which is based on a huge, fundamental misunderstanding about how Ferengi culture works. And, like "Inquisition", it has major repercussions on the ongoing storylines, so you can't just ignore it. There are plenty of other bad episodes, but those two are the ones that have something so wrong with them that they tarnish the whole series. "The Storyteller", for example, misses the point of the whole DS9 series (it's a Next Gen-style episode changed with the bare minimum of rewriting into a DS9 show), and has laughably bad plot, dialogue and characterisation, and unforgivably ends with the line "No thanks, I think I've had ENOUGH storytelling for one day!"... but it's fun to jeer at, is never mentioned again and doesn't do anything that undermines the fabric of the universe it's set in. So I'd rather watch that one than "Inquisition".
I've also been buying comics today, and while I've got nothing better to do I thought I'd talk about them too. It has occurred to me, incidentally, that I could split these kinds of rambling posts into several shorter posts, but I quite like the idea of forcing everyone to read the whole long thing. That way people interested in only one of my various hobbies and obsessions can learn about the others. Or just ignore me completely. Either is good.
So, comics. Only two new ones I was interested in buying this week - Young Avengers #7 and the ABC A-Z. Still need to get Ultimates #8 somewhere - I really need to find a good comic shop (by which I mean one that orders too many copies of each comic so they don't run out) or start ordering them in advance. I also got the fifth volume of Exiles in trade paperback form - I'm collecting them now after years of reading it occasionally in the shop but not generally buying it.
The ABC comic is strange. The whole ABC line was set up for Alan Moore to do whatever he liked with a whole new range of characters. It was uniformly brilliant, like everything Moore does. When he got bored with it and moved on to whatever strange things he's doing now (involving human sacrifice and tarot cards, probably), he let other writers play with his characters, foremost among them Peter Hogan, who's writing this one. It consists of a lengthy Tom Strong story recapping his origins and introducing his large supporting cast, and a shorter Jack B Quick story doing essentially the same thing. I have no idea why they thought anyone would want to buy this. Tom Strong is only occasionally published nowadays, and new readers really don't need to know the back story in summary form to understand it. Jack B Quick hasn't appeared in a new story for ages (and I hope he carries on like that if Moore isn't writing it - nobody else could capture the sense of pseudoscientific insanity that makes Jack such fun).
If you want to know what happened in the old Tom Strong stories, go out and buy them. Nobody needs to read an ultra-abridged, soulless synopsis like the A-Z to like the new stuff. I doubt anyone will buy it apart from people like me who buy everything with the ABC logo as a matter of principle. It's not even entirely accurate, for crying out loud - it suggests that Fingel Parallax is still alive, which is either foreshadowing of an upcoming story or (more likely) a flat-out mistake.
Young Avengers #7 is the first part of a new storyline. Marvel comics nowadays come in six-part story arcs so that they fit nicely into a paperback collection, and the first six issues of Young Avengers mostly consisted of writer Allan Heinberg fulfilling the awful remit he'd been handed ("We've decided to do a series about young versions of Captain America, Thor, Iron Man and Hulk. Because Teen Titans is cool, so Young Avengers would be even cooler. Go and write it.") The opening story did that, introduced some less stupid characters, killed off Iron Lad and set it up with some great promise for the future. And did it very entertainingly, albeit with some incomprehensible time travel logic. The first part of the new story looks like it's going to be great. It really could be a big hit - it's selling well, and word-of-mouth is only going to get better now Heinberg's writing the kind of characters he wants to write, and hopefully avoiding world-changing drama. I'd recommend it to anyone who wants to read a genuinely good modern superhero story.
As for Exiles, this collection is Chuck Austen's five-issue fill-in run from 2003. Austen is much maligned in the comics business, and with good cause because he's just not a very good writer, but these ones aren't too bad. The stories don't make a great deal of sense, but that's never been a requirement for Exiles stories. The character interaction is quite fun, and the abundance of characters in the X-Men crossover really works somehow. Stories with more than ten major roles all doing something have always appealed to me for some reason. It's not as good as the Judd Winick stories that appear in the first four collections, but it's still worth reading.
Anyway, that's probably enough babbling for one afternoon/evening in between watching cartoons (Justice League Unlimited is great, by the way). Conclusive proof, if any were needed, that I'm only writing this thing to entertain myself. Imagine being someone else and reading through all that. I shudder to think of it!
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
In heaven's name, what am I DOING?
The above is my all-time favourite Wile E Coyote quote (closely followed by "I wouldn't mind, except that he defies the law of gravity!". It also rather melodramatically sums up the theme of this entry - for at least three different reasons, I've been thinking today about exactly why I'm writing this here blog, and who I'm expecting to read it.
Firstly, I was googling myself again yesterday (don't judge me, it gets lonely sometimes, living on your own), and noticed that of course my previous post on the subject, in July or August or whenever it was, which mentions my 'real' name, shows up on Google searches. This made me realise that anybody who chooses to look me up on the internet will find my blog. Not normally a problem, but I have it on good authority that my mother Googles my name every now and then, and I'm pretty sure I've said some snippy things about her here before.
Then I spoke to my dad on the phone today (happy birthday to him, by the way!) and he told me he's entered the 21st century, and has an email address and everything now. So he might conceivably work out how to use the internet and find this thing too, and I (entirely affectionately) poked fun at him here the other day. Plus it'd spoil the surprise when I get round to treating him to a day on the steam trains. And even my brother (who, as you'd expect from someone with a PhD in English literature, has trouble with reading and writing) has been known to go on the internet occasionally and might find Zoomy's Thing too.
Apart from the horror of my family reading my diary (which, let's face it, happened all the time when I was a teenager), I felt that last night's entry was a bit... unexceptional. Links to two interesting websites and a couple of thoughts of my own on the subject. There are millions of blogs that do that. I want mine to be different. Quirky. Entertaining. Fun! And I think I manage that most of the time.
So I thought I should set out why I'm writing this thing, and what I'm writing in it. Just in case I forget and need to check back.
I'm writing this primarily for myself. I enjoy doing it! I like looking back on what I've written, and chuckling to myself about how entertaining my life seems when I've written it down. And I like finding ways to make the things I do every day seem entertaining.
Secondly, I'm writing this to give my friends a laugh. I have a wonderful collection of friends who (I hope) are genuinely pleased to read my feelings about Coco Pops adverts and job interviews. Happy birthday to Suzy, too, incidentally! It's a good day for birthdays.
As for what's in it, the only rule I've had up to now is no mentioning of politics or religion or any other subject that might be considered controversial. There's too much talk about this kind of thing in the world already, and nobody needs another blog of some idiot expressing his half-thought-out views. But after today I'm also going to put a ban on two more subjects - firstly, much-too-serious posts like this one. Nobody wants to read rubbish like this. And secondly, links to entertaining websites as a substitute for talking about something entertaining I've made up myself. Although I'm going to be kind of flexible with this rule - basically, it just has to qualify in my brain as sufficiently different from all the other blogs out there.
Anyway, serious stuff over. Pointless rambling resumes tomorrow. I've got the day off legally, and I'm going to go to Burton and see what it's like.
Firstly, I was googling myself again yesterday (don't judge me, it gets lonely sometimes, living on your own), and noticed that of course my previous post on the subject, in July or August or whenever it was, which mentions my 'real' name, shows up on Google searches. This made me realise that anybody who chooses to look me up on the internet will find my blog. Not normally a problem, but I have it on good authority that my mother Googles my name every now and then, and I'm pretty sure I've said some snippy things about her here before.
Then I spoke to my dad on the phone today (happy birthday to him, by the way!) and he told me he's entered the 21st century, and has an email address and everything now. So he might conceivably work out how to use the internet and find this thing too, and I (entirely affectionately) poked fun at him here the other day. Plus it'd spoil the surprise when I get round to treating him to a day on the steam trains. And even my brother (who, as you'd expect from someone with a PhD in English literature, has trouble with reading and writing) has been known to go on the internet occasionally and might find Zoomy's Thing too.
Apart from the horror of my family reading my diary (which, let's face it, happened all the time when I was a teenager), I felt that last night's entry was a bit... unexceptional. Links to two interesting websites and a couple of thoughts of my own on the subject. There are millions of blogs that do that. I want mine to be different. Quirky. Entertaining. Fun! And I think I manage that most of the time.
So I thought I should set out why I'm writing this thing, and what I'm writing in it. Just in case I forget and need to check back.
I'm writing this primarily for myself. I enjoy doing it! I like looking back on what I've written, and chuckling to myself about how entertaining my life seems when I've written it down. And I like finding ways to make the things I do every day seem entertaining.
Secondly, I'm writing this to give my friends a laugh. I have a wonderful collection of friends who (I hope) are genuinely pleased to read my feelings about Coco Pops adverts and job interviews. Happy birthday to Suzy, too, incidentally! It's a good day for birthdays.
As for what's in it, the only rule I've had up to now is no mentioning of politics or religion or any other subject that might be considered controversial. There's too much talk about this kind of thing in the world already, and nobody needs another blog of some idiot expressing his half-thought-out views. But after today I'm also going to put a ban on two more subjects - firstly, much-too-serious posts like this one. Nobody wants to read rubbish like this. And secondly, links to entertaining websites as a substitute for talking about something entertaining I've made up myself. Although I'm going to be kind of flexible with this rule - basically, it just has to qualify in my brain as sufficiently different from all the other blogs out there.
Anyway, serious stuff over. Pointless rambling resumes tomorrow. I've got the day off legally, and I'm going to go to Burton and see what it's like.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
I've been everywhere, man
Stealing ideas for blog topics from Sam again, I've produced this map highlighting all the countries I've been to:
create your own visited country map
That's just pathetic, isn't it? I've been to nine different countries including this one, or 4% of the world. And most of them don't count - I've only passed through Belgium a couple of times on my way somewhere more exciting, and my visits to Italy and Switzerland were day trips while on a school trip to France, back at the dawn of time or thereabouts. And it seems silly to have Alaska highlighted in red like that, just because I've been to a couple of the less arctic states.
It's always been one of my many life's ambitions to travel to every country in the world, in alphabetical order. That last bit is very important - it seems to me that any old fool can visit every country in the world, so I'd need to find a unique way to go about it. That's an ambition that'll have to wait till I'm a millionaire, though. Or if Danny Wallace or Dave Gorman need a new adventure, it sounds like their kind of thing. There's probably a TV series in it somewhere.
Anyway, I'm not likely to be a millionaire any time soon if I succumb to temptation and bid on this. Assuming it's not some kind of con, the guy's selling all his worldly posessions, among them no end of cool things that I'd like to have - electric guitars and drums! Digital cameras! And a cuddly white tiger!
I can just see my new place furnished with all this junk. It'd be like buying someone else's life. It's not terribly sensible of me to be considering bidding on it, but consider this - he lives here in Derby, next month is going to be the one time in my life I'm ever going to have more or less that much money in my bank account, I am (as mentioned the other day) in a very impulse-purchase frame of mind at the moment. The universe wants me to bid on this.
It's worth mentioning that I'm probably more in debt than this guy, but I've always believed in buying lots of material goods in case inflation or economics devalue all your money, and it's about time I started putting this firm belief into practice. And I want an entertainment centre.
create your own visited country map
That's just pathetic, isn't it? I've been to nine different countries including this one, or 4% of the world. And most of them don't count - I've only passed through Belgium a couple of times on my way somewhere more exciting, and my visits to Italy and Switzerland were day trips while on a school trip to France, back at the dawn of time or thereabouts. And it seems silly to have Alaska highlighted in red like that, just because I've been to a couple of the less arctic states.
It's always been one of my many life's ambitions to travel to every country in the world, in alphabetical order. That last bit is very important - it seems to me that any old fool can visit every country in the world, so I'd need to find a unique way to go about it. That's an ambition that'll have to wait till I'm a millionaire, though. Or if Danny Wallace or Dave Gorman need a new adventure, it sounds like their kind of thing. There's probably a TV series in it somewhere.
Anyway, I'm not likely to be a millionaire any time soon if I succumb to temptation and bid on this. Assuming it's not some kind of con, the guy's selling all his worldly posessions, among them no end of cool things that I'd like to have - electric guitars and drums! Digital cameras! And a cuddly white tiger!
I can just see my new place furnished with all this junk. It'd be like buying someone else's life. It's not terribly sensible of me to be considering bidding on it, but consider this - he lives here in Derby, next month is going to be the one time in my life I'm ever going to have more or less that much money in my bank account, I am (as mentioned the other day) in a very impulse-purchase frame of mind at the moment. The universe wants me to bid on this.
It's worth mentioning that I'm probably more in debt than this guy, but I've always believed in buying lots of material goods in case inflation or economics devalue all your money, and it's about time I started putting this firm belief into practice. And I want an entertainment centre.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Skiving
Okay, I'm here after all. I was feeling a bit off colour this morning, so I exaggerated it a bit and called in sick. I don't know why I never remember that I get horribly bored sitting around at home all day when I'm supposed to be at work. Plus I feel guilty about not being there. Ah well. Back tomorrow, and then I can remember how boring it is being there in the first place.
Still, in just a month and a bit, there'll be a new job, with exciting new responsibilities and irritations. I'm getting increasingly nervous about it, to be honest. I bet I'll be the worst management accountant they've ever seen.
Still, in just a month and a bit, there'll be a new job, with exciting new responsibilities and irritations. I'm getting increasingly nervous about it, to be honest. I bet I'll be the worst management accountant they've ever seen.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
The proof in the pudding
This being my second blog entry in one day, you might describe it as the 'pudding' to a main course of coco pops. And it's about proof-reading.
I bought a new book today (I always do much more impulse-buying when I'm flat broke at the end of a long month), 'Little People' by Tom Holt. It's fun - I've only read one of his before ('Expecting Someone Taller') and had trouble getting into any others, but the sense of humour is quirky enough to appeal to me, and there's some great wordplay and hilarious turns of phrase. The story is good too, although it suffers a bit from an overload of exposition to explain the concept without enough things actually happening once the setting's been established. But then, I'm not half way through it yet, so it's probably a bit early to start criticising.
What really bugs me, though, is the huge volume of typos - 'of' for 'or', 'by' for 'my', that kind of thing. As I said, I'm not half way through, and there have been six times I've picked up on one of these and it's yanked me out of the flow of the writing. Do they still have proofreaders at modern publishers, or do they rely on the computers to pick up the mistakes? Either way, someone needs to be fired or reprogrammed.
Going to the dogs (not in the usual way, to the greyhound races) in Nottingham tomorrow night with work people, so I might not be back in blogging action until Tuesday.
I bought a new book today (I always do much more impulse-buying when I'm flat broke at the end of a long month), 'Little People' by Tom Holt. It's fun - I've only read one of his before ('Expecting Someone Taller') and had trouble getting into any others, but the sense of humour is quirky enough to appeal to me, and there's some great wordplay and hilarious turns of phrase. The story is good too, although it suffers a bit from an overload of exposition to explain the concept without enough things actually happening once the setting's been established. But then, I'm not half way through it yet, so it's probably a bit early to start criticising.
What really bugs me, though, is the huge volume of typos - 'of' for 'or', 'by' for 'my', that kind of thing. As I said, I'm not half way through, and there have been six times I've picked up on one of these and it's yanked me out of the flow of the writing. Do they still have proofreaders at modern publishers, or do they rely on the computers to pick up the mistakes? Either way, someone needs to be fired or reprogrammed.
Going to the dogs (not in the usual way, to the greyhound races) in Nottingham tomorrow night with work people, so I might not be back in blogging action until Tuesday.
I'd rather have a bowl of Coco Pops
How am I expected to achieve anything in life when there's Looney Tunes all day on Boomerang and two hours of Kids Next Door on Cartoon Network? Actually, Cartoon Network are bugging me slightly by showing KND episodes at random in no particular order. There are continuing storylines and character development that are spoiled by that kind of thing. Some people just don't take cartoons seriously enough. Still, suffice to say I haven't done anything this weekend at all. But it's given me something to think about. With an overdose of cartoons comes a lot of adverts in between, ripe for studying and critical analysis.
For example, Coco Monkey and his gang sing "We'd rather have a bowl of Coco Pops" at the end of every advert, a jingle that no longer makes any sense. It's been nearly twenty years since they were offered any alternative foodstuff compared to which they could express their preference for chocolate flavoured rice-based breakfast cereal. The original batch of adverts, which came out when I was in primary school, consisted of a character introducing themself, describing their staple diet and finishing with the famous catchphrase. Being the kind of person who memorises things, I can still remember most of the lyrics:
"My name's Coco, I'm a monkey like you. I live in the jungle, not in the zoo. I lived on leaves when there weren't any shops, but I'd rather have a bowl of Coco Pops!"
I might have to revise my standard answer to interviewers who ask if I've always been interested in memorising. I did always make a point of learning all the words to advertising jingles. That said, I can't remember the less-memorable sequels to the original Coco advert as clearly. Ozmelda Ostrich's one ended "I eat plants when they're not in pots, but..." and the giraffe, whatever it's called, was "For breakfast I have two tree tops..."
I don't think poor old Ozmelda has had a single line in an advert since her first appearance, but she's always in the background to this day. Anyway, the point I was making is that the Coco Pops adverts nowadays have degenerated into bad-guy-tries-to-steal-the-cereal antics, just like every other advert in the world. They used to be more varied. And if you've just thwarted a crocodile's attempt to purloin your breakfast, you don't quip "I'd rather have a bowl of Coco Pops!" It's a complete non-sequitur, for crying out loud!
Just thought I'd share my thoughts on the subject.
For example, Coco Monkey and his gang sing "We'd rather have a bowl of Coco Pops" at the end of every advert, a jingle that no longer makes any sense. It's been nearly twenty years since they were offered any alternative foodstuff compared to which they could express their preference for chocolate flavoured rice-based breakfast cereal. The original batch of adverts, which came out when I was in primary school, consisted of a character introducing themself, describing their staple diet and finishing with the famous catchphrase. Being the kind of person who memorises things, I can still remember most of the lyrics:
"My name's Coco, I'm a monkey like you. I live in the jungle, not in the zoo. I lived on leaves when there weren't any shops, but I'd rather have a bowl of Coco Pops!"
I might have to revise my standard answer to interviewers who ask if I've always been interested in memorising. I did always make a point of learning all the words to advertising jingles. That said, I can't remember the less-memorable sequels to the original Coco advert as clearly. Ozmelda Ostrich's one ended "I eat plants when they're not in pots, but..." and the giraffe, whatever it's called, was "For breakfast I have two tree tops..."
I don't think poor old Ozmelda has had a single line in an advert since her first appearance, but she's always in the background to this day. Anyway, the point I was making is that the Coco Pops adverts nowadays have degenerated into bad-guy-tries-to-steal-the-cereal antics, just like every other advert in the world. They used to be more varied. And if you've just thwarted a crocodile's attempt to purloin your breakfast, you don't quip "I'd rather have a bowl of Coco Pops!" It's a complete non-sequitur, for crying out loud!
Just thought I'd share my thoughts on the subject.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Lady Godiva's Room
I like learning new things. I also like learning that there's something I need to learn that I'd never even considered before. I just came across a passing reference to Lady Godiva somewhere, and it suddenly struck me that the sum total of my knowledge of the story of Lady Godiva was that she rode a horse naked through a town.
For some reason, I'd never felt any need to know anything about her beyond that, until tonight. And what do you know? The town was Coventry, the date was 1057 (much earlier than I'd thought it would be), and the reason for the nudity seems to have been to display her commitment to the arts and celebrate the beauty of God's creations, and in the process win a bet with her husband in order to make him abolish taxes in the city. And a later addition to the story provides the origin of the phrase 'peeping tom'.
I'm sure everybody reading this knows all about it already. That my shocking ignorance has never been exposed in everyday conversation is just sheer coincidence. Still, it makes me wonder what other common knowledge is missing from my brain's filing system. Come to think of it, what's the story about King Alfred burning the cakes? Those five words sum up everything I know about the legend. Good thing we live in the internet age...
For some reason, I'd never felt any need to know anything about her beyond that, until tonight. And what do you know? The town was Coventry, the date was 1057 (much earlier than I'd thought it would be), and the reason for the nudity seems to have been to display her commitment to the arts and celebrate the beauty of God's creations, and in the process win a bet with her husband in order to make him abolish taxes in the city. And a later addition to the story provides the origin of the phrase 'peeping tom'.
I'm sure everybody reading this knows all about it already. That my shocking ignorance has never been exposed in everyday conversation is just sheer coincidence. Still, it makes me wonder what other common knowledge is missing from my brain's filing system. Come to think of it, what's the story about King Alfred burning the cakes? Those five words sum up everything I know about the legend. Good thing we live in the internet age...
Friday, September 23, 2005
Happy once, happy twice, happy chicken soup with rice
There's no reason at all for the title of this post. But I seem to have started doing song lyrics for titles lately, and that's one of my all-time favourites.
Anyway, I'm not sure what to write about. A few things spring to mind, so I'll just do bullet points and maybe add a bit more to one or more subjects over the weekend:
Where am I going to buy comics if I move to Burton-on-Trent? I don't know if there's a shop there, and I'd hate to trek into Derby or Nottingham every week. When I lived in Boston I used to buy a big batch once a month or so, but I'm in the habit of getting new stuff every week now.
There's also a fun discussion on the British Othello newsgroup today - Tony Corfe of the MSO has complained that we're not contributing to the event enough, and Othello players across the country are taking exception (in our usual good-humoured, funny way) to his comments.
It's Josh Foer's birthday today. Happy birthday, Josh!
As part of discussions with Josh about memory for his book (or personal interest) I've been reading through the emails I exchanged with Andi and Gunther about the Memory World Cup in 2004. It's funny - I snapped at both of them at different times and told them they were being childish and stupid. They were, but it's still the kind of thing that I absolutely never do in emails. I hate the idea of not being friends with everyone.
I also feel like writing an essay about the unusual decision to change the character designs on Baby Looney Tunes halfway through the first season (they stop wearing nappies). It occurs to me that I could write at great length about this. Maybe I will tomorrow.
They're selling 200g bars of Cadbury's chocolate half price at W H Smith's when you buy a magazine, so I got one today. I think I'm definitely putting on weight. Perhaps I should do something about it? Then again, I was looking back at pictures of me in 2002 the other day, and I was immense back then, so I don't think I should be worrying about obesity just yet.
We're probably switching to working part time, two or three days a week, starting next week. I'll use the time off to go down to Burton and look for a flat.
Also, must decide on exactly what to do for the party. Ace and Rep have said they're coming, which adds them to a list comprising Jenny, Crispy, Sleepy, Log and someone else I've forgotten. Oh, and my brother. There's also going to be a work do that weekend, but I'll give it a miss. I don't think work people and my real friends would mix all that well. The former think I'm a serious, hard-working type.
Mentioning work there reminded me that I haven't even thought about playing Spider all night. This is good - I downloaded it from the internet last night and spent ages playing it (my computer's Windows 98 and too ancient to have it on the games menu). I was worried that it was turning into an unhealthy compulsion.
I'm going to do some memory training this weekend - with one thing and another I haven't done any for a couple of weeks now. I'll try to force myself to do an hour numbers first - that's the one I always find least fun, so it's difficult to motivate myself to practice it as much as the others. And I want to try my idea of memorising it using twice the routes - starting again with the numbers offset by one or two digits (I memorise numbers in blocks of 3x3, so with this system I'd memorise 123-456-789 - 987-654-321 etc, then start again and memorise 234-567-899 - 876-543-210 and so on). There's a good reason for this, but it goes beyond the bullet-point scope. If I do manage to do it, I'll explain tomorrow.
Boston Utd are playing Grimsby tomorrow, but I think I'll give it a miss. Going back there was fun once, but it's still not the kind of place you'd want to visit too often. Besides, local derbies generally turn quite ugly - the Lincoln games are traditionally the ones with the most violence, but they're a nasty lot from Grimsby.
Jeremy Bates's strategy for the Davis Cup doesn't seem to have worked. But then, there weren't any sensible strategies that would really work if Murray's going to lose to Wawrinka, so I suppose we can't blame him for trying to think outside the box. Still, that makes the weekend's tennis rather pointless, because we're never going to win all three remaining rubbers. If I was Bates I'd (assuming we win the doubles and don't make the whole thing pointless) put Rusedski against Federer in the first reverse singles and hope for a flukey win, and then see if Mackin can pull off a miracle against Wawrinka to win it for us. But I can't see it happening.
Wow, that was more bullets than I expected! Granted that it mostly involves watching TV and playing on the internet, I do have quite a varied life, don't I?
Anyway, I'm not sure what to write about. A few things spring to mind, so I'll just do bullet points and maybe add a bit more to one or more subjects over the weekend:
Where am I going to buy comics if I move to Burton-on-Trent? I don't know if there's a shop there, and I'd hate to trek into Derby or Nottingham every week. When I lived in Boston I used to buy a big batch once a month or so, but I'm in the habit of getting new stuff every week now.
There's also a fun discussion on the British Othello newsgroup today - Tony Corfe of the MSO has complained that we're not contributing to the event enough, and Othello players across the country are taking exception (in our usual good-humoured, funny way) to his comments.
It's Josh Foer's birthday today. Happy birthday, Josh!
As part of discussions with Josh about memory for his book (or personal interest) I've been reading through the emails I exchanged with Andi and Gunther about the Memory World Cup in 2004. It's funny - I snapped at both of them at different times and told them they were being childish and stupid. They were, but it's still the kind of thing that I absolutely never do in emails. I hate the idea of not being friends with everyone.
I also feel like writing an essay about the unusual decision to change the character designs on Baby Looney Tunes halfway through the first season (they stop wearing nappies). It occurs to me that I could write at great length about this. Maybe I will tomorrow.
They're selling 200g bars of Cadbury's chocolate half price at W H Smith's when you buy a magazine, so I got one today. I think I'm definitely putting on weight. Perhaps I should do something about it? Then again, I was looking back at pictures of me in 2002 the other day, and I was immense back then, so I don't think I should be worrying about obesity just yet.
We're probably switching to working part time, two or three days a week, starting next week. I'll use the time off to go down to Burton and look for a flat.
Also, must decide on exactly what to do for the party. Ace and Rep have said they're coming, which adds them to a list comprising Jenny, Crispy, Sleepy, Log and someone else I've forgotten. Oh, and my brother. There's also going to be a work do that weekend, but I'll give it a miss. I don't think work people and my real friends would mix all that well. The former think I'm a serious, hard-working type.
Mentioning work there reminded me that I haven't even thought about playing Spider all night. This is good - I downloaded it from the internet last night and spent ages playing it (my computer's Windows 98 and too ancient to have it on the games menu). I was worried that it was turning into an unhealthy compulsion.
I'm going to do some memory training this weekend - with one thing and another I haven't done any for a couple of weeks now. I'll try to force myself to do an hour numbers first - that's the one I always find least fun, so it's difficult to motivate myself to practice it as much as the others. And I want to try my idea of memorising it using twice the routes - starting again with the numbers offset by one or two digits (I memorise numbers in blocks of 3x3, so with this system I'd memorise 123-456-789 - 987-654-321 etc, then start again and memorise 234-567-899 - 876-543-210 and so on). There's a good reason for this, but it goes beyond the bullet-point scope. If I do manage to do it, I'll explain tomorrow.
Boston Utd are playing Grimsby tomorrow, but I think I'll give it a miss. Going back there was fun once, but it's still not the kind of place you'd want to visit too often. Besides, local derbies generally turn quite ugly - the Lincoln games are traditionally the ones with the most violence, but they're a nasty lot from Grimsby.
Jeremy Bates's strategy for the Davis Cup doesn't seem to have worked. But then, there weren't any sensible strategies that would really work if Murray's going to lose to Wawrinka, so I suppose we can't blame him for trying to think outside the box. Still, that makes the weekend's tennis rather pointless, because we're never going to win all three remaining rubbers. If I was Bates I'd (assuming we win the doubles and don't make the whole thing pointless) put Rusedski against Federer in the first reverse singles and hope for a flukey win, and then see if Mackin can pull off a miracle against Wawrinka to win it for us. But I can't see it happening.
Wow, that was more bullets than I expected! Granted that it mostly involves watching TV and playing on the internet, I do have quite a varied life, don't I?
Thursday, September 22, 2005
When I'm sixty-four
I got the details about the job at Nord Anglia in the post today. Slightly annoyingly, you have to be in the company pension scheme to be included in the company life assurance scheme. This is an inconvenience for someone like me who approves of life insurance and disapproves of pensions.
I've never had a pension, for the main reason that I firmly believe that if I'm not independently wealthy by the time I want to retire, it's my own stupid fault. There's really no excuse for not being a millionaire of some kind before I'm 65. Also, whatever kind of pension you put your money into now, there's a sporting chance that it'll be totally worthless or unnecessary by the time you want to spend it. I've got another 36 years before I reach retirement age. Anything could happen in that space of time. Aliens will have invaded two or three times, there'll probably be robots, worms will hold most of the important cabinet posts and money might have been abolished altogether. I'll spend my cash now while I'm young, thank you very much.
The life assurance would be good, though. I'd hate the idea of my family inheriting my debts if I drop dead at some point over the next three years (after which time I'll have paid them all off, so my grieving family can spend the money on a solid gold tombstone).
Casual dress day at work tomorrow. Tony the MD hates the idea, but he's been bullied into it, and not even banned jeans like he did last time. This raises the question of what I should wear. I don't like wearing casual clothes at work - if I'm not dressed like an accountant, I find it even harder than usual to act like one. And I still haven't got round to buying a needle and thread and fixing my Zoom-Zoom T-shirt, so I'd probably better not wear that. Maybe I'll wear my "The knowledge that you exist is a burden on my soul" shirt and scare everyone.
Maybe I'll wear nothing at all and see what happens.
I've never had a pension, for the main reason that I firmly believe that if I'm not independently wealthy by the time I want to retire, it's my own stupid fault. There's really no excuse for not being a millionaire of some kind before I'm 65. Also, whatever kind of pension you put your money into now, there's a sporting chance that it'll be totally worthless or unnecessary by the time you want to spend it. I've got another 36 years before I reach retirement age. Anything could happen in that space of time. Aliens will have invaded two or three times, there'll probably be robots, worms will hold most of the important cabinet posts and money might have been abolished altogether. I'll spend my cash now while I'm young, thank you very much.
The life assurance would be good, though. I'd hate the idea of my family inheriting my debts if I drop dead at some point over the next three years (after which time I'll have paid them all off, so my grieving family can spend the money on a solid gold tombstone).
Casual dress day at work tomorrow. Tony the MD hates the idea, but he's been bullied into it, and not even banned jeans like he did last time. This raises the question of what I should wear. I don't like wearing casual clothes at work - if I'm not dressed like an accountant, I find it even harder than usual to act like one. And I still haven't got round to buying a needle and thread and fixing my Zoom-Zoom T-shirt, so I'd probably better not wear that. Maybe I'll wear my "The knowledge that you exist is a burden on my soul" shirt and scare everyone.
Maybe I'll wear nothing at all and see what happens.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all
That's not a reference to anything in my life, it's just that I've had that song stuck in my head all day for some reason. I haven't even heard it for years. And I don't know most of the words, so I'm singing ner ner-ner ner ner-ner ner ner ner to myself. Still, if anyone's reading my mind it'll teach them a lesson.
I haven't really got anything to write about today, anyway. I've got addicted to Spider Solitaire in a bad way - spent all day playing it at work, when I actually did have something I should be doing for a change. Still, what are they going to do, fire me?
My dad phoned this evening to say he can't afford a day out at the steam railway museum. I was going to offer to pay for it myself, but I think I'll wait until I've actually got that redundancy money burning a hole in my bank account. I'm skint at the moment. He'll probably be deeply offended at the idea of his son paying for anything anyway, but I'm rude like that.
Actually, his real reason for calling was to check that I'm still at Parkhouse so that he can send me a birthday present. He's leaving it a bit late this year, it's only four weeks early. I'm normally getting Christmas presents from him around this time. And yes, he always insists on sending it to my work address rather than my home one, because he doesn't trust sorting offices not to lose parcels if there's nobody in when they're delivered. It's a wonder I turned out so normal and right in the head, really, isn't it?
I haven't really got anything to write about today, anyway. I've got addicted to Spider Solitaire in a bad way - spent all day playing it at work, when I actually did have something I should be doing for a change. Still, what are they going to do, fire me?
My dad phoned this evening to say he can't afford a day out at the steam railway museum. I was going to offer to pay for it myself, but I think I'll wait until I've actually got that redundancy money burning a hole in my bank account. I'm skint at the moment. He'll probably be deeply offended at the idea of his son paying for anything anyway, but I'm rude like that.
Actually, his real reason for calling was to check that I'm still at Parkhouse so that he can send me a birthday present. He's leaving it a bit late this year, it's only four weeks early. I'm normally getting Christmas presents from him around this time. And yes, he always insists on sending it to my work address rather than my home one, because he doesn't trust sorting offices not to lose parcels if there's nobody in when they're delivered. It's a wonder I turned out so normal and right in the head, really, isn't it?
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Sloth
There are worse deadly sins to commit, I suppose, but sloth is the one I'm most prone to. Having nothing to do at work induces a sort of lethargy in me that carries over to my non-working hours and leaves me sitting around eating sweets and watching cartoons and doing nothing else with my time.
And if that sounds like exactly what I've done for the 28 years and 11 months of my life to date, I assure you that there is a difference. Probably only a psychological one, but I'm very aware that I'm not getting round to doing things much more than I usually do. I suspect that I'll be fine again when I either start the new job, or spend a bit of time before starting it off work completely. If memory serves, when I left my job at Adams back in November 2002 I spent a couple of months doing absolutely nothing, but then got my act together and started my brain working again. That was when I dreamed up my memory system which has served me well since then.
So if for the moment I'm being all slothful, it's just because I'm biding my time until I stop doing it. If I'm still in this kind of mood in a month or so's time, anybody who notices is free to kick me in the backside and tell me to give it a rest.
Also, 12 Angry Men is on telly in the middle of the night tonight. This might be one of my very favourite films of all time, and a perfect illustration of why films don't need big budgets and sensational special effects to be great. It's twelve men sitting in a single room and talking for an hour and a half. And it's brilliant. Sidney Lumet's amazing direction is a big part of it (did you know it was filmed 'one wall at a time', all the shots from one camera angle, then all the shots from the next, and so on? And there's not a single continuity error in who's standing where, who's taken their jacket off, and so on!), but the script is so compelling you can't help but be enthralled.
With John Fiedler (Juror Number 2 and also the voice of Disney's Piglet) having died recently, only two of the angry men are still alive, which is a bit sad. But then, it was nearly fifty years ago now.
And if that sounds like exactly what I've done for the 28 years and 11 months of my life to date, I assure you that there is a difference. Probably only a psychological one, but I'm very aware that I'm not getting round to doing things much more than I usually do. I suspect that I'll be fine again when I either start the new job, or spend a bit of time before starting it off work completely. If memory serves, when I left my job at Adams back in November 2002 I spent a couple of months doing absolutely nothing, but then got my act together and started my brain working again. That was when I dreamed up my memory system which has served me well since then.
So if for the moment I'm being all slothful, it's just because I'm biding my time until I stop doing it. If I'm still in this kind of mood in a month or so's time, anybody who notices is free to kick me in the backside and tell me to give it a rest.
Also, 12 Angry Men is on telly in the middle of the night tonight. This might be one of my very favourite films of all time, and a perfect illustration of why films don't need big budgets and sensational special effects to be great. It's twelve men sitting in a single room and talking for an hour and a half. And it's brilliant. Sidney Lumet's amazing direction is a big part of it (did you know it was filmed 'one wall at a time', all the shots from one camera angle, then all the shots from the next, and so on? And there's not a single continuity error in who's standing where, who's taken their jacket off, and so on!), but the script is so compelling you can't help but be enthralled.
With John Fiedler (Juror Number 2 and also the voice of Disney's Piglet) having died recently, only two of the angry men are still alive, which is a bit sad. But then, it was nearly fifty years ago now.
Monday, September 19, 2005
The Testing of Eric Olthwaite
I've just noticed that BBC4 are doing an evening of Michael Palin programmes, including the classic 'Ripping Yarns' episode this post is named after. Actually, that's about the only thing worth watching on it - there's a Monty Python episode too, but since BBC4 is an arty kind of channel, they seem to have decided to avoid any of the well-known ones and gone for 'The Cycling Tour', which I've never found all that funny. And the rest is travel shows and biographies. They could have dug up some of his earlier comedy stuff, rather than bothering with the things he's wasting his time on nowadays.
Anyway, I must get round to emailing people about my birthday. In these bridgeless times, you can't rely on people checking Tish's site regularly. I think I'm definitely going to try to find a flat in Burton sooner rather than later - I had a look at some estate agent websites at work today (nothing else to do with my time), and there seems to be quite a few available. Nothing that really looks all that nice, though, but I'd have to have a look at them in real life.
This flat I've got at the moment is great, though. It's very small, but it's cheap, amazingly quiet considering it's in the middle of town (and the nasty part of town too) and I've never had any kind of problem with it in the two years I've been living here. If I can find a carbon-copy of this one in Burton, it'll be fine with me.
Anyway, I must get round to emailing people about my birthday. In these bridgeless times, you can't rely on people checking Tish's site regularly. I think I'm definitely going to try to find a flat in Burton sooner rather than later - I had a look at some estate agent websites at work today (nothing else to do with my time), and there seems to be quite a few available. Nothing that really looks all that nice, though, but I'd have to have a look at them in real life.
This flat I've got at the moment is great, though. It's very small, but it's cheap, amazingly quiet considering it's in the middle of town (and the nasty part of town too) and I've never had any kind of problem with it in the two years I've been living here. If I can find a carbon-copy of this one in Burton, it'll be fine with me.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
On The Road
Or if not the road, on the railway. I've spent more time on trains this weekend than usual, since there's engineering work somewhere between Derby and London than trains are having to take a lengthy detour around. But there was an abandoned News Of The World on the train I took home from London this evening, which had a free CD called 'On The Road', containing a few quite good tracks - Addicted To Bass, I Get Around, She Sells Sanctuary...
Anyway, the othello [reversi] went pretty well. I ended up joint fifth with three or four other people, on five wins out of nine. I thought I was going to equal my last year's performance and only lose to the Terrible Three - Graham Brightwell, Imre Leader and Michael Handel - but then I was comprehensively thrashed by Elisabetta Vecchi in round 8, which put paid to my chances of making the 3rd/4th place play-off (which had been at least a possibility all the way through).
Imre won overall, beating everyone except for a shock defeat at the hands of Steve MacGuire, who's never played a live tournament before. Another of that 'internet generation' I was talking about, you see. I beat Steve, which possibly conclusively proves that I'm better than Imre (who beat me 47-17). The final was between Imre and Graham, which probably didn't surprise anyone. Jeremy Dyer, having beaten Michael in the first round, got to the 3rd place play-off against him when Lisa Boardman lost on time to him in the last round, and put in a repeat giant-killing performance to get third place and the final spot in the British team for the world championships. That's the third time in a row Jeremy's beaten Michael, actually, which definitely eclipses my Imre-beating statistics (twice in four years).
So my chances of going to Iceland in November seem quite slim - Graham's definitely going to play in the worlds, Jeremy almost definitely and Imre possibly. I'm somewhere between second and sixth on the list of reserves if one or more of them doesn't want to go (I'll have to see how the tiebreak worked out).
Aww, I've got to go back to work tomorrow. Although calling it 'work' nowadays is a bit of a stretch. Spent the best part of two hours at the pub on Friday lunchtime, and the rest of the day in enforced fun quizzes run by Sue. Still, six weeks to go, and then I might be in a job that requires me to actually work, for the first time in ages. I hope I can remember how. I'm going to take the job with Nord Anglia, by the way. Haven't thought about it all weekend, obviously, but I haven't got a good enough reason to turn it down. I might just look for other work in Derby on the sly up till the time I actually start, or then again I might not bother. We'll see.
Anyway, the othello [reversi] went pretty well. I ended up joint fifth with three or four other people, on five wins out of nine. I thought I was going to equal my last year's performance and only lose to the Terrible Three - Graham Brightwell, Imre Leader and Michael Handel - but then I was comprehensively thrashed by Elisabetta Vecchi in round 8, which put paid to my chances of making the 3rd/4th place play-off (which had been at least a possibility all the way through).
Imre won overall, beating everyone except for a shock defeat at the hands of Steve MacGuire, who's never played a live tournament before. Another of that 'internet generation' I was talking about, you see. I beat Steve, which possibly conclusively proves that I'm better than Imre (who beat me 47-17). The final was between Imre and Graham, which probably didn't surprise anyone. Jeremy Dyer, having beaten Michael in the first round, got to the 3rd place play-off against him when Lisa Boardman lost on time to him in the last round, and put in a repeat giant-killing performance to get third place and the final spot in the British team for the world championships. That's the third time in a row Jeremy's beaten Michael, actually, which definitely eclipses my Imre-beating statistics (twice in four years).
So my chances of going to Iceland in November seem quite slim - Graham's definitely going to play in the worlds, Jeremy almost definitely and Imre possibly. I'm somewhere between second and sixth on the list of reserves if one or more of them doesn't want to go (I'll have to see how the tiebreak worked out).
Aww, I've got to go back to work tomorrow. Although calling it 'work' nowadays is a bit of a stretch. Spent the best part of two hours at the pub on Friday lunchtime, and the rest of the day in enforced fun quizzes run by Sue. Still, six weeks to go, and then I might be in a job that requires me to actually work, for the first time in ages. I hope I can remember how. I'm going to take the job with Nord Anglia, by the way. Haven't thought about it all weekend, obviously, but I haven't got a good enough reason to turn it down. I might just look for other work in Derby on the sly up till the time I actually start, or then again I might not bother. We'll see.
Friday, September 16, 2005
O Desdemon! Dead Desdemon! Dead! O!
I wanted to start with a quote from Othello, so it was that or "Here is my butt."
Anyway, Sam in his much-more-interesting-than-mine blog today commented that he's not sure exactly what Othello (the game, not the Moor) is, and wonders what the difference between Othello and Reversi might be, so for the education and entertainment of my readership, I thought I'd replace my promised essay about the nationals with a brief guide to what Othello basically is.
It's Reversi. More or less. The long story behind it can be summarised as follows: The game of Reversi was invented in the late 19th century in England, it was played for a while by fashionable Victorians before they found better things to do with their time (opium, probably) and then faded into obscurity. In the early 1970s, Japanese board game creator Goro Hasegawa was looking around for new games to "invent", and discovered Reversi. He made a couple of very minor rule changes, renamed it Othello so that he could make money from the trademark and launched it on an unsuspecting world.
It was extremely popular for a while in the seventies and remains fairly popular today. Obviously, the internet people wanted to include it with chess, draughts and other public-domain games, so they sidestepped the trademark issues by calling it 'Reversi', although if you want to be pedantic the 'Reversi' you'll find anywhere on the internet incorporates the new 'Othello' rules. So basically, the two games are one and the same. Being old-fashioned in the British Othello Federation, we haven't yet considered renaming ourselves to appeal to the internet generation like Sam, who only know the game as Reversi. Maybe I'll bring it up at the AGM tomorrow.
Incidentally, I had no idea that there were TV adverts for Othello. The new licencees, Character Games, must be trying to give it a publicity boost.
Anyway, as I've mentioned before, I'm the treasurer of the BOF in my spare time, and a poor-to-moderate player of the game too. There are five or six little tournaments in Britain every year, plus two big ones, and the British Championship falls into the latter category, at least in principle. We've got 18 people signed up for it this year, five of whom are non-British people who just live here at the moment, so it's probably unfair to say it's a really big event. But 18 is 50% better than the turnout last year, so we can't complain.
In other news, I've got the job with Nord Anglia, if I want it. Whether or not I want it is a complex question that I've got to find out an answer to this weekend. I might write more about this on Sunday, depending whether the Othello excited me enough to write at length about it, but my reservations about the job basically revolve around three things: a) It's in Burton-on-Trent, which means I have to either commute (15 minutes train then 15 minutes cycling) or move there; b) I'm still not convinced that the job's going to be a permanent thing; and c) I don't know if I'll be any good at it. That last one's a pretty big deal - I might find that I hate the job, I don't know what I'm doing and I'll make a mess of everything. I have a reputation for being extremely competent, but that only applies when I'm doing a job that falls within the narrow band of things that I'm capable of doing. Anything outside that, I'm rubbish, and not being naturally disposed to asking anyone for help, I make mistakes of vast proportions before anyone notices.
On the other hand, the job has good points: a) It pays £4,000 more than my current job, plus benefits. They've offered me the upper limit of the pay scale they advertised for the position, which suggests they think I'm some good; b) They're happy for me to start after my contract with Parkhouse finishes, meaning I still get a big chunk of redundancy money with no break in my regular earnings; and c) It's a job, and if I take it I don't have to go to any more interviews or revise my CV for the SF Group.
There's a d) too - the guy from Michael Page is going to phone me on Monday morning for my answer, so unless I can contrive to be out of the office and have someone take a message, I'll be saying yes.
I'm pretty sure I'll take it. Everything happens for a reason, and if the universe wants me to have this job, I'm not going to complain. What to do with the aforementioned redundancy money is an interesting question, though. There are plenty of worthy causes who could do with it, but this scare has convinced me of the benefits of actually keeping some money in my savings account in case I find myself jobless in the future. Or if I move to Burton, I might splash out on a bigger flat, buy some decent furniture, make it a place fit for human habitation for a change. I might even find a place in time for my birthday, and combine the party with a housewarming! Decisions, decisions...
Anyway, Sam in his much-more-interesting-than-mine blog today commented that he's not sure exactly what Othello (the game, not the Moor) is, and wonders what the difference between Othello and Reversi might be, so for the education and entertainment of my readership, I thought I'd replace my promised essay about the nationals with a brief guide to what Othello basically is.
It's Reversi. More or less. The long story behind it can be summarised as follows: The game of Reversi was invented in the late 19th century in England, it was played for a while by fashionable Victorians before they found better things to do with their time (opium, probably) and then faded into obscurity. In the early 1970s, Japanese board game creator Goro Hasegawa was looking around for new games to "invent", and discovered Reversi. He made a couple of very minor rule changes, renamed it Othello so that he could make money from the trademark and launched it on an unsuspecting world.
It was extremely popular for a while in the seventies and remains fairly popular today. Obviously, the internet people wanted to include it with chess, draughts and other public-domain games, so they sidestepped the trademark issues by calling it 'Reversi', although if you want to be pedantic the 'Reversi' you'll find anywhere on the internet incorporates the new 'Othello' rules. So basically, the two games are one and the same. Being old-fashioned in the British Othello Federation, we haven't yet considered renaming ourselves to appeal to the internet generation like Sam, who only know the game as Reversi. Maybe I'll bring it up at the AGM tomorrow.
Incidentally, I had no idea that there were TV adverts for Othello. The new licencees, Character Games, must be trying to give it a publicity boost.
Anyway, as I've mentioned before, I'm the treasurer of the BOF in my spare time, and a poor-to-moderate player of the game too. There are five or six little tournaments in Britain every year, plus two big ones, and the British Championship falls into the latter category, at least in principle. We've got 18 people signed up for it this year, five of whom are non-British people who just live here at the moment, so it's probably unfair to say it's a really big event. But 18 is 50% better than the turnout last year, so we can't complain.
In other news, I've got the job with Nord Anglia, if I want it. Whether or not I want it is a complex question that I've got to find out an answer to this weekend. I might write more about this on Sunday, depending whether the Othello excited me enough to write at length about it, but my reservations about the job basically revolve around three things: a) It's in Burton-on-Trent, which means I have to either commute (15 minutes train then 15 minutes cycling) or move there; b) I'm still not convinced that the job's going to be a permanent thing; and c) I don't know if I'll be any good at it. That last one's a pretty big deal - I might find that I hate the job, I don't know what I'm doing and I'll make a mess of everything. I have a reputation for being extremely competent, but that only applies when I'm doing a job that falls within the narrow band of things that I'm capable of doing. Anything outside that, I'm rubbish, and not being naturally disposed to asking anyone for help, I make mistakes of vast proportions before anyone notices.
On the other hand, the job has good points: a) It pays £4,000 more than my current job, plus benefits. They've offered me the upper limit of the pay scale they advertised for the position, which suggests they think I'm some good; b) They're happy for me to start after my contract with Parkhouse finishes, meaning I still get a big chunk of redundancy money with no break in my regular earnings; and c) It's a job, and if I take it I don't have to go to any more interviews or revise my CV for the SF Group.
There's a d) too - the guy from Michael Page is going to phone me on Monday morning for my answer, so unless I can contrive to be out of the office and have someone take a message, I'll be saying yes.
I'm pretty sure I'll take it. Everything happens for a reason, and if the universe wants me to have this job, I'm not going to complain. What to do with the aforementioned redundancy money is an interesting question, though. There are plenty of worthy causes who could do with it, but this scare has convinced me of the benefits of actually keeping some money in my savings account in case I find myself jobless in the future. Or if I move to Burton, I might splash out on a bigger flat, buy some decent furniture, make it a place fit for human habitation for a change. I might even find a place in time for my birthday, and combine the party with a housewarming! Decisions, decisions...
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Go ask Alice, I think she'll know
Virgin Radio Classic Rock used to be worth listening to. Unfortunately, though, they've now handed it over to Alice Cooper, who is probably the world's worst DJ. I have nothing against his music, he's done some good stuff over the years, but when it comes to hosting a radio show, the poor guy really hasn't got a clue. It's a shame, because I used to have Classic Rock on a lot in the evenings, when they used to just play music without any talk and only occasional adverts. Now the playlist consists of songs that actually fit the definition of 'classic rock', interspersed with Alice's mumblings and confused anecdotes about his musical career.
Still, to cheer me up, I've decorated my flat with this amazing little dragon! His eyes follow you around the room as you walk around, as long as you're walking around with one eye closed.
Oh, and if you were wondering, the interview was quite fun. I don't think they'll offer me the job, but I might possibly consider it now if they did. If nothing else comes along, anyway. I still think I might be on the job market again after six months, but I can always cross that bridge when I come to it. Getting there wasn't much fun - it's been raining all day without a break, and I got soaked cycling there from Burton train station (including a lot of getting lost along the way, which fortunately I allowed plenty of time for). I got even wetter getting back, when the heavy drizzle had upgraded itself to a real downpour. But I was home by 4:30, had a hot shower to ward off pneumonia and had an extra hour or so with the cartoon channels, so I can't complain.
Interestingly, they've removed the bins from Burton-on-Trent train station and put up a sign explaining that this is because of the terrorist attacks in London. I suspect that someone has overestimated the importance of Burton-on-Trent to the country's rail networks. Although the town's main industry is brewing beer, so a well-placed bomb or two could seriously undermine British morale and bring the country to a crashing halt.
Booked my hotel for the weekend, a posh place for a change, because the horrible but cheap hotel I usually stay in is fully booked. So I've splashed out (£69) on the Thistle Victoria. I might write tomorrow about the British Othello Championships like I've been meaning to do for ages. Or then again, I might not. Who knows? I don't plan for the future.
Still, to cheer me up, I've decorated my flat with this amazing little dragon! His eyes follow you around the room as you walk around, as long as you're walking around with one eye closed.
Oh, and if you were wondering, the interview was quite fun. I don't think they'll offer me the job, but I might possibly consider it now if they did. If nothing else comes along, anyway. I still think I might be on the job market again after six months, but I can always cross that bridge when I come to it. Getting there wasn't much fun - it's been raining all day without a break, and I got soaked cycling there from Burton train station (including a lot of getting lost along the way, which fortunately I allowed plenty of time for). I got even wetter getting back, when the heavy drizzle had upgraded itself to a real downpour. But I was home by 4:30, had a hot shower to ward off pneumonia and had an extra hour or so with the cartoon channels, so I can't complain.
Interestingly, they've removed the bins from Burton-on-Trent train station and put up a sign explaining that this is because of the terrorist attacks in London. I suspect that someone has overestimated the importance of Burton-on-Trent to the country's rail networks. Although the town's main industry is brewing beer, so a well-placed bomb or two could seriously undermine British morale and bring the country to a crashing halt.
Booked my hotel for the weekend, a posh place for a change, because the horrible but cheap hotel I usually stay in is fully booked. So I've splashed out (£69) on the Thistle Victoria. I might write tomorrow about the British Othello Championships like I've been meaning to do for ages. Or then again, I might not. Who knows? I don't plan for the future.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
I can't get a life if my heart's not in it
I read an article on the internet today about ten things not to do at your job interview, and I was planning on doing all of them. Except the one about wearing too much makeup.
In all seriousness, though, I don't want this job I'm being interviewed for tomorrow. I've looked the company up, and they're in the process of rationalising their operations in order to improve profitability, closing down offices, basically saying exactly the same things Parkhouse have been saying for the last year. And we all know how that ended up. Actually, the Burton office is the place where they're centralising their head office function, it's the poor people based in Cheadle who are the equivalents of us at Derby, but I'd rather not leave one sinking ship for another.
Besides, who wants to live in Burton-on-Trent?
Still, the interview on Ram FM this morning was surprisingly fun. Pete and Deano were both genuinely fascinated by everything I said - the only trouble was that I said most of it off-air. Poor guys, they really want to be on talk radio, but they're obliged to run constant ads and music all morning. Still, we had a good chat in between 30-second bursts of 'officially' talking about memory things.
I'm currently in the middle of an othello tournament on VOG. I generally have a rule of not playing online for a week before an OTB competition, but I decided to break this rule just for the heck of it tonight. I'm a rebel. This will probably have an adverse effect on my play at the weekend (online games are much quicker, less thinking, and it gets my brain into that habit), but my expectations are somewhere close to zero anyway, after that thing in Paris.
I haven't booked a hotel yet - I tried last night, but the website crashed half way through. There's plenty of time yet.
In all seriousness, though, I don't want this job I'm being interviewed for tomorrow. I've looked the company up, and they're in the process of rationalising their operations in order to improve profitability, closing down offices, basically saying exactly the same things Parkhouse have been saying for the last year. And we all know how that ended up. Actually, the Burton office is the place where they're centralising their head office function, it's the poor people based in Cheadle who are the equivalents of us at Derby, but I'd rather not leave one sinking ship for another.
Besides, who wants to live in Burton-on-Trent?
Still, the interview on Ram FM this morning was surprisingly fun. Pete and Deano were both genuinely fascinated by everything I said - the only trouble was that I said most of it off-air. Poor guys, they really want to be on talk radio, but they're obliged to run constant ads and music all morning. Still, we had a good chat in between 30-second bursts of 'officially' talking about memory things.
I'm currently in the middle of an othello tournament on VOG. I generally have a rule of not playing online for a week before an OTB competition, but I decided to break this rule just for the heck of it tonight. I'm a rebel. This will probably have an adverse effect on my play at the weekend (online games are much quicker, less thinking, and it gets my brain into that habit), but my expectations are somewhere close to zero anyway, after that thing in Paris.
I haven't booked a hotel yet - I tried last night, but the website crashed half way through. There's plenty of time yet.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Ram FM
As I've mentioned before, I can't say no to people over the phone. This is why my alarm is now set for 6am tomorrow morning. At five past eight today while I was scoffing my usual bacon buttie for breakfast while getting dressed, I got a phone call from Ram FM, the radio station in Derby that everyone actually listens to. They'd heard me on Steve Wright, apparently, and been trying to contact me ever since.
They can't have been trying all that hard - I'm a bit of a hermit, but most people manage to find my email address through an internet search and drop me a line. Anyway, the guy asked for a number he could call me on in office hours, and I gave it to him (that can't-say-no thing in action again). He called back at ten, and in a conversation lasting about fifteen seconds got me to agree to an interview at seven o'clock in the flaming morning tomorrow, at the studio in the city centre somewhere (I've printed out a map, so it shouldn't be too hard to find). He also gave me a mobile number to call when I get there so they can let me in, which should be fun. If he'd hung around on the phone a bit longer, I might have been able to mention that I haven't got a mobile. Heck, I might even have got round to saying "No, I don't want to be on the radio at the crack of dawn tomorrow," although I doubt it somehow.
Still, maybe I can use my great powers for good rather than evil, and advertise the British Othello Championships on the air. I've been meaning to write about it for a couple of days now, but interviews of both kinds and broken saucepans and things keep coming up. It's this weekend, and I might even write about it tomorrow, if you're lucky.
They can't have been trying all that hard - I'm a bit of a hermit, but most people manage to find my email address through an internet search and drop me a line. Anyway, the guy asked for a number he could call me on in office hours, and I gave it to him (that can't-say-no thing in action again). He called back at ten, and in a conversation lasting about fifteen seconds got me to agree to an interview at seven o'clock in the flaming morning tomorrow, at the studio in the city centre somewhere (I've printed out a map, so it shouldn't be too hard to find). He also gave me a mobile number to call when I get there so they can let me in, which should be fun. If he'd hung around on the phone a bit longer, I might have been able to mention that I haven't got a mobile. Heck, I might even have got round to saying "No, I don't want to be on the radio at the crack of dawn tomorrow," although I doubt it somehow.
Still, maybe I can use my great powers for good rather than evil, and advertise the British Othello Championships on the air. I've been meaning to write about it for a couple of days now, but interviews of both kinds and broken saucepans and things keep coming up. It's this weekend, and I might even write about it tomorrow, if you're lucky.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Okay, I love you, b'bye!
Repeats of Animaniacs on Cartoon Network, if you were wondering.
I've got an interview with Nord Anglia on Thursday, which poses the important question: Which tie should I wear? I'm never sure whether to do the sensible, correct thing and wear one of my more boring ties, or to wear my favourite playing-cards one and hope the interviewer's mind works on the same kind of wavelength as mine.
It's not like I've got any completely boring ties, so if the interviewer is super-strict about that kind of thing, I'm scuppered anyway. Besides, I'd like to think that any prospective employer who'd judge me for wearing a strange tie isn't the kind of person I'd want to work for. But on the other hand, I do need a job.
And which shirt do I wear? I own five shirts, and they're all getting on in years now. I wore my decent cream one today, so if I want to wear that on Thursday I'll have to wash it, and I'm not sure I can be bothered. That leaves a grey one, a black one that's slightly too big for me, a black one with no buttons on the cuffs requiring me to hold them together with paperclips, and a white one with one button missing from each cuff, meaning that one is looser than the other. An interviewer who'd notice that really isn't the kind of person I'd want to work for, but it makes me nervous. There's nothing fundamentally wrong with the grey one, so I'll probably wear that.
Also, my suit jacket is a noticeably different shade to the trousers, but there's nothing I can do about that, apart from buying some decent clothes, which isn't going to happen. I have a deep-seated psychological resistance to dressing according to other people's standards of smartness.
In other news, the handle's fallen off my good saucepan (ie my saucepan that still had a handle attached. I might have to rename it now). Perhaps I need to buy some new kitchen utensils too.
I've got an interview with Nord Anglia on Thursday, which poses the important question: Which tie should I wear? I'm never sure whether to do the sensible, correct thing and wear one of my more boring ties, or to wear my favourite playing-cards one and hope the interviewer's mind works on the same kind of wavelength as mine.
It's not like I've got any completely boring ties, so if the interviewer is super-strict about that kind of thing, I'm scuppered anyway. Besides, I'd like to think that any prospective employer who'd judge me for wearing a strange tie isn't the kind of person I'd want to work for. But on the other hand, I do need a job.
And which shirt do I wear? I own five shirts, and they're all getting on in years now. I wore my decent cream one today, so if I want to wear that on Thursday I'll have to wash it, and I'm not sure I can be bothered. That leaves a grey one, a black one that's slightly too big for me, a black one with no buttons on the cuffs requiring me to hold them together with paperclips, and a white one with one button missing from each cuff, meaning that one is looser than the other. An interviewer who'd notice that really isn't the kind of person I'd want to work for, but it makes me nervous. There's nothing fundamentally wrong with the grey one, so I'll probably wear that.
Also, my suit jacket is a noticeably different shade to the trousers, but there's nothing I can do about that, apart from buying some decent clothes, which isn't going to happen. I have a deep-seated psychological resistance to dressing according to other people's standards of smartness.
In other news, the handle's fallen off my good saucepan (ie my saucepan that still had a handle attached. I might have to rename it now). Perhaps I need to buy some new kitchen utensils too.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Birthday blues
According to the letter I got from Parkhouse about redundancy, my date of birth is September 14th, 1976, which means it's my birthday on Wednesday. It's actually in October, but maybe I can use this as an excuse to have two celebrations.
Or maybe not. Turning 29 once is depressing enough, I'd rather not do it twice. Of course, next year is the real killer, but let's not think about that now. What I'm thinking is that I should have a party of some kind. I don't normally, so I probably ought to if only to repay the people who invite me to theirs. This flat isn't much of a party kind of place, though, being roughly the size of a smallish cupboard. Perhaps I could hire a place, but then maybe nobody would turn up and I'd look like some kind of Zoomy-No-Mates.
Oh, what the heck, I'll take the risk. I'll organise something tomorrow and invite even my most distant acquaintances, to avoid embarrassment.
Or maybe not. Turning 29 once is depressing enough, I'd rather not do it twice. Of course, next year is the real killer, but let's not think about that now. What I'm thinking is that I should have a party of some kind. I don't normally, so I probably ought to if only to repay the people who invite me to theirs. This flat isn't much of a party kind of place, though, being roughly the size of a smallish cupboard. Perhaps I could hire a place, but then maybe nobody would turn up and I'd look like some kind of Zoomy-No-Mates.
Oh, what the heck, I'll take the risk. I'll organise something tomorrow and invite even my most distant acquaintances, to avoid embarrassment.
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