The debonair Basil Marigold's

It's the same but isn't the same

2011-12-21T22:36:00.001Z

I am sat in a pub tonight, not any old pub, but the pub. The one I used to frequent, a lot. It used to be the best and busiest pub in the bay. It used to be standing only, even in weekdays. I am sat alone tonight. There is no one really here, yet the same music is playing on the jukebox that we used to play. Except when we played it, it was new music.

I can still look out of the windows and see the lights dance on the bay outside, the view will never change, i have. For example, this is my third drink in two days. I uses to be able to do three in twenty minutes, here, in this town any way.

I could spend the night watching the ghosts of memories and people in this pub, walking past that bar, uttering the same conversation we used to have. I first met the girlfriend my wife saw for the first and probably, only ever time yesterday, in passing. She was a huge part of my life, for a time. It was a strange experience.

I used to be able to walk into this pub alone but then drink with company. Tonight I am alone and will remain so. I think I prefer that now. Time has moved on, as have I. But memories still remain and always will, fading with time but jarring the present mind set with old shocks.

Ive spent the last hour having a drink with a lad I first met when he was seven. He's 24 now. That was when the memories I am talking about started. Nigh on 17 yrs ago. And here I am. Posing the question would the 19yr old me recognise me? Would I be seen as the logical conclusion to my life, as I sit here? Or was I a product of my break With the town? I like to think the latter, but almost a lifetime has passed for that, green, naive 19 yr old. Times have certainly changed, and i have changed in that time, for the better without question.

But it could all have been so different, couldn't? I'm glad it wasn't. I wouldn't trade the life of this 35yr old for that of the 19yr old. It's an incomparable situation. But the memories are still there, always will be. They make me who I am. And whether that's good or bad, it is me. It is what we are made of. Isn't it?

I think now of how the 50yr old me will look back on the 35yr old me and what would I say to myself?

Knock, knock. Who's There

2011-12-04T09:41:00.001Z

me, that's who. After my daughter locked me out of the back door. In the cold winters evening as I wore a t shirt, as I nipped out to put the rubbish out as my wife was upstairs changing the giant baby.

As I knocked on the door my daughter, being ever the fount of initiative then disappears to help out. She then appears at the back door, squishes her face against the glass and smiles, a knowing smile, a proud and clever smile as she then attempts to help daddy by opening the back door by using a plastic fork to try and turn the lock.
At this point she then disappears to tie some bows around the legs of the boys highchair, while smiling at me. Cold is obviously defeated by making bows!

I knock on the window and she ambles to the door again. I say to her, 'go and get mummy'. She smiles again, and repeats parrot like, 'mummy' and them I stand and watch through the window as she then approaches the downstairs baby gate. Picks up her ikea step places in front of the baby gate and then swings her leg up and attempts to climb over the baby gate. At which point I start banging on the window saying, 'don't get mummy!' at which point she starts shouting for mummy which seems much safer. Then a few moments later, down comes mummy.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Absence Makes The Heart Forget

2011-11-17T22:11:00.005Z

That London is the most amazing place in the UK. I've not been down for a good few years, possibly 5yrs or so. If any city felt like It was a living organism, then it would be London. If you listen carefully, I swear you can hear it's heart beat made from the energy of every living soul.

Everything about the place fascinates and excites me, in one degree or another. The vast size of it's scale in relation to all the cities I've visited. The world class architecture of the enormous Victoria. Imperial period, blende into the tiny villages that once, made London. From walking past some. Granite and stone neo classical edifice, tagged onto or build around a mews house, seemingly blown wizard of oz style from the Cotswold into the centre of one of the worlds most vibrant cities! That blows my Devon, farmboy mind. I am awed by walking down streets vaulted on both sides so that you cannot see the sky unless you vertically look up!

Did I mention the people? I love walking past men dressed up in dinner jackets at 5pm! The women, who can on occasion look like models, dressed in sometimes garishly, but always, always as individuals. An this is what I love too, you can be whomsoever you wish to be, there are far too many people for you to be judged if you dress differently, people accept the freaks and weirdos and they become normal, or a little more normal. Anonymity is a wonderful thing for confidence at times. And London is a confident city, in spades.

It's also one of extremes, sadly. It is areas classes as the wealthiest in the world, where only the richest 1% can afford property and it contains the poorest housing in the country. Stats?

Was at a housing conference today.

Average deposit amount required for FTB to get on the property ladder

£60-70,000 (this is the deposit, there are houses worth less in the town I live)

Want to know the required average annual household income required to secure a mortgage to enter the property?

Try, £80,000 a year.

Average London income for an individual? £26,000.

Do the maths. Wonder why London is in the grips of a massive affordable housing crisis?

But, it is so alive.

Morning Buzz

2011-11-17T22:11:00.003Z

This morning finds me on the 9th of the 10 trains I will have travelled on since Wednesday morning. You would be mistaken if you thought I was tired of trains, I'm not. Tired of the journeys perhaps.

This morning was an earlier start as I am heading to London, arriving in time for the tube rush hour, one of the many joys I have experienced in life. In a herodotean type digression, I once did central London to heathrow on the tube with a suitcase as I was flying to Madrid! How popular was I then!

Still, one of the very many reasons I enjoy trains is the view. And Autumn/Winter is arguably my favourite time, especially coupled with starting in the dark and still being on the train as daylight begins. Why you may ask?

I shall explain. Mainly, at this time of year there is an absence of sun rising in the sky when Dawn breaks, usually blocked by a thick layer of cloud. This makes the day break darker and more emotive, to me.

When you travel through the countryside and see the undulating landscape, impressive enough, but when the now defrocked trees and hedges are blanketed in a whispy, white mist, there is no landscape finer to my eyes. The English countryside is so attractive when this happens. I, for a reason I cannot completely explain, probably a literary association of the books I read as a teenager, thing back to the time of king Arthur and dark age Britan when faced with a mist covered scene, as it seems to be the back drop to knights and forging nations, as Uther Pendragon says, in the film Excalibur "Merlin, weave the dragons breath, to hide me." before he is killed.

There will always be, at least to me, of how in this landscape England becomes "Albion".

Pointless Law

2011-11-17T22:11:00.001Z

It has been proposed by GP's and other health professionals that smoking is now banned in cars (it already is if your car is your place of work, taxi's, etc). Moving aside from the civil liberty issues of the state legalising what you can do in your personally owned car, there is more of a concern as to whats the point of doing this. A few years ago it was made illegal to use your mobile phone in the car when driving (this led to hands free kits). When I am driving home, I would imagine at a rough estimate that 20% of drivers flout this law, by holding the phone, talking or texting an I've even seen the police do This. If the mobile ban is not going to be enforced, what chance do we have of a smoking bam being endorced, seriously?

Appearances Can Deceive

2011-11-06T22:27:00.004Z

It happens and probably every one could relate a story of how what you assumed to be the case turns out to be a little more deceptive than originally considered to be. Tonight I had a refresher course in this. Coincidently the last time involved a female singer/songwriter, who this year won a music prize that the girl I went to see tonight was nominate for. If you are a musical fan you could begin to understand the similarities between PJ Harvey & Anna Calvi.

Having now heard them both, there are some similarities, musically, between them. And some quite fundamentally nuanced differences.

Anna Calvi, is not a large girl. She looks tiny and frail. Women shaped like this always remind of tiny little birds you will occasionally see, those which inspire a desire to nurture and care for them.

Anna Calvi is still pretty new to the music business as can be gleaned from her almost zero interaction with the crowd, beyond the polite 'thank you' after each song. She stands dwarfed by the stage, spotlights upon this sleight young woman, who looks as though she's as brittle as crystal. But then, from somewhere deep within her, arguably a sound beyond my comprehension, comes forth and I can only compare it to, if a volcano could sing it would sound this loud. Having dipped into her stuff on line I knew that her raisin detre was a strong, powerful voice, but live it is beyond any sense you can construct via you tube or recordings. It was like being hit by a sonic boom. I have heard many female voices in my time as someone who has a musical weakness for women singers, musicians and the only voice I have heard (though never live, sadly) that seemed as potentially powerful as Anna Calvi was Maria Callas.

For those familiar with the story of Odysseus and the sirens. Her voice could entice the stars from the sky. Or blow holes in Walls like a sonic explosion. And that range, from an almost timid mouse level of her normal speaking voice, check out an interview on line, transforms itself into to be witnessed to be believed.

Appearances can and often do deceive. But when it leads to something so joyful through it's revealing then this is not always a bad thing.

One Of The Joys Of Public Transport

2011-11-06T22:23:00.000Z

I am a strong advocate for public transport. It allows people to live, it really does. But, an interesting side effect Is the high percentage of lunatics that use it. For instance, tonight while journeying to the big smoke I was sat behind a young lad who was practising with some determination the hand movements from, I'm guessing, karate. This is quite a sight on a bus. A sight the type I have missed since becoming a driving person. Buses are truly the home to humanity in all it's glory and on may this continue.

Bus Mirror Man

2011-11-06T22:21:00.001Z

For those used to bus travel and especially bus Travel in the dark, you'll be aware of bus mirror. When the bus window essentially becomes reflective due to the darkness of night outside.

I used the bus mirror a lot over the preceeding decade and tonight, after a break of nigh on 4/5yrs I don't recognise that old person staring back at me, where has that youth gone?

The Boy Trains Himself

2011-10-31T18:37:00.001Z

While at a half marathon this weekend my youngest child, Joshua (9 months) revealed himself to be a little bit of a ladies man and a cunning one at that.

He'd been given a bottle of powerade to play with in his buggy, which he'd happily done so for a while. But this was maybe due to the fact that he hadn't eyed up a future wife. As he waited in the town hall corridor he saw the approach of a rather attractive st johns ambulance girl, probably in her early twenties. As she approached his buggy out flew the powerade bottle onto the floor in front of the st johns ambulance girl. She dutifully bends down and picks it up. Then she passes it back to Joshua talking to him in the process, Joshua, who is now smiling widely at her, as though the act of picking up the bottle means she has now committed to marrying him. He did have good taste though, if he is going to become a mini casanova.

A Tribute...Weeks too late

2011-10-28T01:19:00.000+01:00

Music has the power to move you, great music has the power to alter your life, change your thoughts, even, arguably become a better person. To me, life without music is not a life at all. I have been fortunate to have loved so many different bands and hopefully there will be other musicians in the future that may inspire me as much as the ones that have come before them, and they drastically outweigh the musicians of the present.

I categorise bands into two types; Those whose music is timeless and has been created before I was born or I became aware of their talents, such as the great bands of the 60/70's, like Pink Floyd, Like the Beatles. Who, stride colossal like of the musical world. The second category can at times, not equate to those in the first, in terms of talent, but I have developed a more sentimental attachment to them, as I was fortunate enough to have grown with them as their music has grown over the years. Their music has been contemporary to my life and has essentially provided the soundtrack to my memories. One such band, has recently disbanded.

This band, was called REM and for one fine moment between, 1991-1996 they could be argued, that with U2 they were the biggest and most commercially popular band on the planet. Indeed in 1996 they signed the biggest recording contract in history, proof positive that they strode the world of music like colossus'. In 1992 I was 15 and I had begun to be interested in more 'alternative' sounds and this year seemed to be the spring from which most of my musical influence and melancholy sprang from. Family was destroyed, finally and for that summer, Automatic for the people, vied with Achth
ung baby for air time. Both albums showed two bands, exercising demons in their music. Rebelling against the moronic, 'happy' pop culture that seemed to be resurgent at the time. It was also the year that saw the birth of a 'grunge' band who, have grown like me, older, not neccessarily wiser, but have matured into something more different that stood in 1991. That was Pearl Jam, but they belong to another story. This story is REM and how they bought though into music and applied a certain level of realism and seriousness that seemed to be missing. Here's a sample from their masterpiece.

Not the most recognised track from the album, but to me one of the most powerful as a fifteen year old youth. I had never been exposed to this kind of music before. I listen to this track and I still remember the stereo I first played it on and felt like I had discovered something rare and wonderful. I think this is one of the blessings of youth that we soon forget, like a child, discover of new things and new concepts provides so much pleasure, but as we age, those new things, new concepts become thinner and thinner on the ground and pleasure is no more in everything we see and do because we have seen and done it. Like discovering a new author and then devouring their whole 'corpus'. once you've done that, they can no longer be discovered any more. REM where one of those cultural reference points. My friends and I used to sit around in the evening and listen and discuss what we were listening to. This no longer happens. That is a sad thing, I miss those times, terribly.

Of course, when you discuss Automatic for the people, there is as always that massive elephant in the room. A little like, 'One' from U2's Achtung baby, a song which at the time dominated the others creatively and commercially, or so the opinions opined. Automatic suffered from the one track, which most everybody has heard and that is this one;

It is of course, 'everybody hurts', the REM classic track. There is an interview with the band whereby they describe how the song itself, was specifically aimed for 'teenagers', who, having been there myself at some point I seem to remember and as mentioned before 1992-4 was not perhaps the easiest of times for me. It never is when your family life, the one thing that, as a child and a young adult remains the same is revealed to be nothing more than a fake, is taken from you by the ones you love. Perhaps, the one thing I have still never really come to terms with is how, speaking now as a father and a parent of varying levels of success and having an oversight of the parent/child bond, is how an individual can inflict such pain on an innocent life, one who has known only that you will always be there and have always been there and yet now, you no longer wish to be. How can you not care enough or love enough to try to change, if change is needed to be with your family, the very bedrock and reason you get out of bed in the morning. Teenagers tend to aggrandise their problems to the level that no one has ever experienced before and how, 'teenage angst' as Placebo would say, can drive vulnerable children into shells of protection from which they may never emerge, or when they do the damage has already been done and they are altered beyond recognition, preyed on by darkness. Sometimes these emotions are overplayed, but like most things perception is not generally the truth but at times, being a teenager can be the loneliest of places. I would never wish to be of that age again. Yet, there was a comfort in this music and there was a hope as the message says, 'everybody' hurts, sometimes and they do. I sometimes cringe at my teenage behaviour, the over-reactions and the heliocentric nature of my existence at times which could be neither good nor pleasant, but I was not the worst and was sometimes pretty good. But it is never easy finding your place in the world, perhaps it is more difficult when you have no one to turn too for that advice and reassurance. From an early age I have been a resource of 'one'. At times because I have been unwilling to accept offered help, I have to admit, but more often because it was just 'me'.

It is probably the reason as to why, now I am approaching middle age, I am still, at times, only confident in my 'resource'. I am the only person who hasn't let me down. Rightly or wrongly I have a track record of delivering what I need. This is changing, it does when you are given the opportunity's I have been given in the last five years of having to share, both existence and ego with another. At times it is not a comfortable fit but it can be made to work. It does require effort and endurance.

Though a constant throughout life has been the ability to fall into the soundtracks of ones life, as a teenager and as an older person. I consider at times myself most fortunate that those musical influences are still contemporary and at times a cornerstone of my cultural reference points. It is that, just every now and again, when such an institution (and music bands can be), reach a natural break and when after 20 years they will no longer be there, no longer helping you with their music, their thoughts and creativity which you can assume to be your own, life seems a little more lonely than the day before. So that's the tribute, to the glory that was REM's past, to the parting of the ways and hoping that another may yet take their place.

So, it turns away at last and walks off into the sunset

2011-10-21T21:10:00.000+01:00

So says the summer, as it packs up the sun in a suitcase and says, 'Bye, Bye' as it takes it leave. Replaced now by a grumpy old autumnal world. Autumn can be quite a glorious time, when, for instance the sky is a wonderful hue of blue and the vegetation is transforming from greens to golds, browns and reds. I am fortunate in that when I leave for work now, if I time it rightly and the sun wants to play, I can glimpse the sunrise when I am heading down the motorway. I am discovering that this is the best way to arrive at work. The only draw back is that once I turn off the motorway I am then directly driving into that very same sunrise, this is neither pleasant nor conducive to being able to see properly where I am going at times.

It's Not Hard, Think About The Books.

2011-09-17T23:07:00.000+01:00

It's really annoying. They are supposed to be the trained specialists. The keepers of the sacred reading grail. In fact Librarians have been known to resist the natural american inclination to censor books that don't 'fit'. As professions go, I probably wouldn't place any other profession above them, not Doctors, not Teachers because Librarians, control and monitor the accumulated knowledge that the worlds possesses and they have done this task since the dawn of the written word. Librarians have at times secretly saved and preserved knowledge for the future and risked their own lives in doing so; it even has its own laws that's how important they are. But, at a lesser level, they can also be really annoying. Though, technically this really is the fault of the County Councils, who in the UK are legally responsible for Library provision through the secretary of state, empowered by the 1964 Public Libraries Act. All great, and wonderful stuff. Here's my moan.

I don't think it's only my library, as I have checked out other libraries when I have been out and about in the UK. It involves, book series'. Such as, for example we'll take J.R.R.Tolkien's, Lord of the Rings, which can be broken into 3 seperate books and often is to milk out more money. Now, for someone who regards this book as best read as one, not three but understands that some do read the three books. If I go to the library having never read this book and I look on the shelves I would tend to find book 2: The Two Towers sat there, waiting to be read. I would probably also find, Book 3: The return of the King. What I wouldn't find is Book 1: The fellowship of the ring. A fairly crucial omission, should I want to read the Lord of the Rings. I find this problem all too often. One of the big series of books I have often wanted to read, has been the Stephen King fantasy saga; The Dark Tower. It now runs to 7 books. In ten years of going to my local library they have only ever had one of these books on the shelves, 'The Wolves of Calla', Book 5 of 7. You see my point?

1 - If, as a library, you are going to provide a series of books then please provide the whole series, as having, for example book 5 of 7 alone, on the shelves, is fairly pointless for obvious reasons.

2 - Library staff. Why do you not point out to the powers that be, this anomaly? and if you do, why do the powers that be, or the powers that provide understand just how pointless and unprofessional this makes the library service look.

And yes, as a fairly regular user of Inter-library loans, the point of, well you can order the book from another library and have it delivered, thereby completing, or beginning a series. And indeed, you are correct but there can be one, rather vital flaw in this genius system. This only works for when you have ALL the books in the series available throughout the county. If you don't then you go from the silly to the downright ridiculous.

So, to the guardians of the future I entreat you to drag all your series' together and send them in batches, or if you have a book X of however many, please, please ensure that one of these happens to be Number 1.

Sometimes It Strikes You When You Least Expect It!

2011-09-10T23:58:00.000+01:00

I have been looking at Televisions. The reason for this is that at some point our main front room tele, all 14" of it and I have no idea how old it is, possibly older than me, perhaps, seems so my wife tells me, to have become a little temperamental and may well be due an respectful early grave. Probably where the telebugs went too.

For those of an age who can remember! I can.

This invariably led to the Amazon website. a Website I have used quite a lot, a fair few years ago now, for buying slightly obscure books, if needed for the masters course I began in 2003. Amazon, was, is a good book site, but it now does almost everything except high end military weapons and that is only because the postage costs may prove a little exorbitant from ex-soviet republics.

But back to my point. I was buying some fairly esoteric works around 2003-2006, when I was a fairly heavy user of the website for this purpose of building a useful bibliography. Amazon, back then had a fairly nifty trick which many more websites have built on, expanded and improved. The trick enabled the website to analyse your purchases and then correlate them to other items that, it could be argued, be of interest to you from the purchase you made. The recommendation was very clever. Cleverer than me really, and quite fun as it did recommend some items I did purchase because of this. One of the items I was often recommended but never quite had the finance to purchase, though I would have loved to have bought it at any time and one day may still buy it, was a book written by Professor Edith Hall, 'Inventing the Barbarian: Greek self definiton through tragedy.' It stands out as one of the seminal works in it's field. It is therefore, not cheap. At least, not then. I think about £80.

Today. 5 years after I finished my masters degree. (had I gone straight into a Part Time, PhD. I would now only be two years from finishing the 7 year course!).

While looking at a TV i thought I would click recommendations, just to see what pops up. It, to a certain extent displayed how my life in this time period has moved from one place to a wildly different one. The recommendation? Well, it was this!

A slightly different genre to the one I am usually associated with and unless this is a novel way of defining the 'other', by using a cartoon polar bear, cat and a penguin. WHatever the 'other' to that is...I have no idea. Amaing how priorities can change, whereby more members of my family would prefer the octonauts annual to a copy of Edith Hall's monograph, at christmas!

What's the Point?

2011-09-06T21:38:00.002+01:00

I am rubbish with dates from the past, I struggle to remember my own historical reference points and often get chronologies incorrect. The reason for this is that, because they live in a time gone, they therefore become irrelevant to my mind and are cast adrift, like English Fireship's were at the Spanish Amarda. I am, you may not be, aware of the irony that I have spent 25% of my life on earth studying some form of history or another at a level above GCSE and, as part of this study, had to memorise many 'states and dates' as historians can label it. My personal history however is littered with dates I struggle to recall. But strangely over the last week I had a date appear on the calender that with what little spare thinking time I have at present, a memory and a date collided in my mind and pricked a memory that was so very clear and stopped me in my tracks. I shall now explain the significance which dawned on me at the moment I realised.

The Date is the 23rd of August, a nondescript date you may well say and yes, it probably is for most people. It does though happen to be the date of my wife's birthday. It occurred a week or so ago. Birthdays of loved ones, or yourself often provide a nudge to become a little introspective and to ponder 'what was' and 'what is to come'. It does for me certainly, as do most days, but especially birthdays. Inviolate markers in the sand, aren't they?

This year has been one of the supposed 'important' birthdays, a concept I have never truly understood the reason for nor bought into. So speaks the man who neither celebrated his 16th or 18th Birthdays, such events are supposed turning points. This is obviously ridiculous as every day can be a turning point, as can every birthday, but that's not the point I am making here.

So, the 23rd of August is a fairly important date in our family, sadly not as important as the 9th of April, but it runs it close, I've been told. Yet the date I want to also discuss is the 23rd of August 2006. It is a date where I know exactly where I was and what I was doing and indeed, I know exactly which Country I was in too. And here begins the event that links the 23/08/2006 to the 23/08/2011. And why my memory was triggered by the events in 2006.

I was listening to a live album, Pearl Jam in Dublin. I attended the concert. Me and two friends travelled to Dublin, indepdently of each other with different arrivals times. I was first there by a good few hours. We had arranged to meet in a pub in the Temple Bar area of Dublin, which is a fairly world famous part of Dublin. I decided to wait for them in the pub, it seemed the done thing. My friend arrived a few hours after and we had at least, from memory another 4 hrs to wait for our last friend to arrive so we killed a couple of hours in the pub and then sauntered to the hostel accommodation where we did the usual things such as bagsie the best beds in the room and putting the shower stuff in cupboards provided, leaving him with the rubbish bed and no room in any cupboards for his stuff. We then headed back to keep our agreed rendezvous at the pub. It was at this time that we carried on chatting about how things were going, and a general chit chat as it had been a couple of years since we'd met up.

I remember, quite clearly now discussing life and love and master's degrees, as it happened I was involved with at the time. I can still see the PhD out there, taunting me still! One day mate, you'll get what's coming to you. Another story.

So, I remember saying that I had been to a local running club for a bit and was enjoying the running, doing well. Was pretty quick in those days. I remember mentioning a girl whom I had taken a shine too, who also ran. I would clearly state here and now that I didn't join running club for this reason. I had earlier in the year just come out of my first relationship for nearly a decade and was running to fill the time. I clearly remember telling my friend that maybe I liked the woman at running club, not sure I liked her enough to ask her out, but I guess all that changed as my friend encouraged me to be more courageous and so on the 23rd of August, she celebrated her birthday as my wife, of almost 4 years. We have two, amazing children, who were neither considered nor thought possible walking through the streets of Dublin, on that sunny day, and yet only 5 yrs later I see that day as the moment, as an historian could be identified as a trigger point. Whatever it was, five years on I look back and am so glad things have turned out the way they have, all in all. Sometimes the journey hasn't been so easy for two, quite independent people, who in some ways are totally different and in many, so terribly similar. Now, when I come home from work and see my family I wouldn't change it for a thing.

Somethings Can Never Be Replaced...Though People Will Try

2011-08-31T23:11:00.000+01:00

I would take today as a treat, as such, but it had been a fair few years since I have visited, Waterstones, in Nottingham. It was a place I often used to frequent/haunt in my younger days when I arrived in Nottinghamshire. It was a store I kind of just loved being in, for the sake of being in a building that had 4 storeys packed full of books.

Over time and in changing circumstances, I have not visited Waterstones, or been out and bought a brand new, fresh of the presses book, either. The odd, second hand classic here and there, but not even remotely close to my pre-marriage book obsession I have carried over a lifetime. I don't say this is a good or a bad thing, it's just a statement. I have over the last few months started using my ipad, both with the apple ibooks and the kindle app, to read the odd electronic book, here and there. A little like a child dipping their toe into the water. I am sure that it will grow on me the more I get used to it. Maybe a Kindle will help! (dropped that small hint in there for my wife).

Yet, on Saturday, I found myself in the place I feel most at home in, a building filled with books. I truly relate to Charlie Bucket when he finally enters Willy Wonka's chocolate factory and realises that his dreams underestimate the magic found within. When I walk into waterstones I feel as though I need to become a Russian billionaire and just buy them all. There are those that may walk into Waterstones and say 'Wow, what a large bookshop. Nice layout.' I have to secretly admit that my thought tends to be 'Ah, this is size of the library I'd like in my house, may have to jiggle the children about a bit, bed wise. But could make them a snug alcove, somewhere between 'Travel' and '15th Century Social history'.

Just love the touch and feel of picking brand new books off the shelves, all shiny and new, all that virgin knowledge, waiting to be implanted into my noggin. No finer thing than purchasing a new tome and travelling home and then just depositing the bone sack onto the sofa and spending a full day, carefree, reading from page 1 and then when you take your head out of the book you realise it's pitch black outside and 9hours have disappeared from your life, lost in an imaginary world, conjured from the mind of another. I hope that mind isn't the one belonging to my daughter, that would be one, vvveeerrrrrryyyyyy weird world. A bit like being stuck in a kaleidoscope on LSD, I imagine.

The Tent Unfolded

2011-08-08T22:03:00.000+01:00

The more we camp, the more, my wife and I get to grips with the campsites largest tent. We must now be down to 30minutes or less putting it up and being able to shelter into it. Fortunately the weather so great that you weren't desperate to get it up before the rain and wind made it near impossible.

We were then fortunate indeed that we were able to pack into the car a collection of clowns with which to furnish the tent, and example here;

Old Men Need Beds And Horlicks

2011-08-08T21:50:00.000+01:00

Blimey I missed my bed, after just one night I felt so much better. The fact that my hips hurt so much that it woke me up in the middle of the night, was never a good sign to me, but last night was great and refreshing.

'Oh My God It's Full Of Stars'

2011-08-08T21:48:00.000+01:00

The one true surprise is that I forgot just how isolated and dark the lake district can be. The benefit of his is at 1am on the way for the obligatory night time wee. A brief glance sky wards revealed such a glorious host of stars. The firmament was indeed full of stars as Dave Bowman would say.
Such an impressive, awe inspiring view putting the world and our individual insignificance into perspective. But it was such a wonderful site, nature truly provides the most amazing views.

The sight of so many stars when in the middle of the town I live in makes me realise just how poor and corrupted by the light pollution my world is and perhaps just once laying in a desert, 1000's of miles from any city, how amazing must that be. Which, in a round about way ties in with my dream of visiting Mongolia and the Gobi desert, where star gazing must be great, hint, hint.....Travel fairy.

The Bank Of Parent

2011-08-08T21:46:00.001+01:00

Of all the things I have gripes with during holidays has become more apparent now that I've become a parent is the premiumbhjmk charged on entry to events ad places of interest. Once you start factoring in children the cost really does start to rise. It can be most frustrating how the age ranges change, some places have free for under fives, free for under 2's, some have no concession. All I know is that money seems to flow quickly from the wallet when you have children, the more children you have the worse it becomes.And it isn't the children's fault. They just want to have a good time, it's the shopkeepers and the attraction owners that cynically exploit this. Damn this capitalist world.

2011-08-08T21:43:00.000+01:00

But there is much to say for still being in this exquisitely manicured bubble. Here is a place were, when camping you sleep to mother natures whims, not to whenever you choose to turn the light off and stop. we would be less productive without electricity powering our existence.

It started with the romans, who believed that cagey mother nature through building bridges and aqueducts made them gods themselves, little has changed philosophical, just that the technology has improved. Yet for all the technology we still have our Vesuvius moments when the world, harshly treated and abused by us, repays that tenfold and with interest, mocking our claims of advancement by knocking down our achievements easily and without breaking sweat.

So here camp in a field exposed to the elements and all that stands between us is a thin sheet of waterproof fabric, microscopically thick. But it's still fun and a little bit harde than normal, which can add to the fun. We have been blessed with great weather so far, which makes the holiday better than that of it had rained and rained. And the on day it was overcast we could happily use as a lazy day around the campsite and village, touring the tourist shops and the Norman priory.

The priory is pretty impressive as a building and it's size and girth indicates how important it must have been for the area when it was founded and became a working abbey priory. We must always remember that you could compare a medieval Abbey Priory and its satellite abbey's as the great multinationals of their days

The Journey Began!

2011-08-08T21:38:00.000+01:00

There is something quite wonderful about camping, once you've set everything up and can sit down in your fabric tent and then survey the world around you. Fortunately we have had a pre arranged trip to a place called Cartmel, located within the world famous, lake district, one of the UK's most picturesque areas. I have only ever been here once before, for our honeymoon, four years ago, to Ambleside, which is fairly central to the lakes. This time, we are in the south of the lakes, away from the really, really touristy parts.

There is a splendid sense of isolation here, the village has no recognisable pavements for pedestrians to use. The village is still a creation of the time before cars when the streets where all for people, probably before the invention of the wheel enabled carts to hinder the road wandering yokel.

And that age old feel of tight streets, small cottages, big houses set in large grounds, all with colourful flowers outside the kitchen window, under which, inside sits the ubiquitous Belfast sink and rustic farmhouse kitchen. And this is the key to these places and why you can relax in isolation. I call it the 'prisoner' syndrome, after the 60's TV show. It's a village that exists but does not appear to be alive. In any town on a weekday there would be people coming and going, but here it's a ghost town, populated only by tourists in beer gardens and wealthy commuters or second home owners. Walkers and ramblers. A village in appearance perfect, yet underneath the veener, a symptom if the wealth and economic divides this country faces. I would like to live in that picture postcard chocolate box, English village, but could I exist in one, a soulless pretence. Only enjoyed as a anthropologist as a mark as to how the UK has so completely been been altered by it's post war development.

Actually What Is Even More Annoying In Summer

2011-06-18T22:27:00.000+01:00

Is when I write a post about Hay fever, I return to the Blogger dashboard to find a flipping Google Ad advising me of the treatment I can purchase in London, for....yep, you guessed it....my hay fever allergy. This is possibly more annoying than the allergy in the first place.

What Is Truly Annoying About Summer

2011-06-18T22:21:00.002+01:00

I forget during winter, but as swiftly as summer arrives I realise that I am a hay fever sufferer and at the moment I stuck between trying to figure out whether hay fever is pretty bad or whether I have an actual cold, because the symptoms for both are almost identical, but the result is equally as annoying to me. Just so frustrating, it really is depressing at times, summer. Just not fun.

eBay or eBurk?

2011-06-08T21:59:00.001+01:00

I used to enjoy using eBay. It has at times proved quite a useful tool for disposing of items and also buying items, every now and then. I try to be a good ebayer, I pay quickly through eBay and to be fair I kind of like having that reciprocated. Over the last few weeks I've had a whirl of a time dealing with attempting to get rid of our first pram. I thought it would be relatively easy as it's a fairly easy process. I have put it into a fairly simple equation, which I present here;

Person wants to sell (x) person wants to buy (y) paypal (f) satisfactory transaction (g)

Hence;

X + y + (f) = g

Simples, as those annoying puppet ferrets would say on the tele. Except the two complete muppets I've dealt with on eBay lately. I will call them; time waster and can't read. For reasons I will now explain.

Time waster won the buggy first. The first excuse was, 'oh my paypal is down, can I pay on collection?', oh, okay. Not my usual response but I was feeling generous. I then sent collection details, we then went through a combination of excuses and not getting emails for days on end when the final straw involved the classic, 'my car is in the garage and they won't tell me when it will be released. Can I contact you when it's released?'

No, you can't. You have until Friday to arrange collection, borrow a friends car or a relatives. Why this person bothered to even win the auction I have no idea. Obviously had no intention in paying, or collecting. I can only presume that they allow eBay in institutions nowadays, which is fantastic for the inmates. But as I've proved, not great for the people who they are buying from.

The pram got re-listed, but this time I specifically wrote that people should only bid if they have Paypal. I felt that I couldn't be more clear on this matter. I'd even written it in the English language. That's how clear I wanted to be. But no, even this wasn't enough for the next bidder who emailed 'Before i bid on your item i am having problems with paypal can I pay cash on collection?' I replied, in a Cheery tone, 'because of the previous idle time waster it needs to be a paypal purchase, sorry how you've been affected by the behaviour of others but sorry, I won't accept cash on collection' again, fairly explicit as far as I am aware. So, when the auction ends, they win the buggy. I receive an email within seconds telling me that they haven't managed to read my email, sent a whole 20minutes before the auction finishes and because of this, can they pay cash on collection?

Now, at this point. I had considered, briefly, I have to admit to thinking of phoning Barack Obama and politely asking for the use of two, Apache helicopter gun ships to use prejudicial force against two, in my eyes, moronic ebayers. I say briefly because I did think of the petrol costs involved, in dispatching two heavily armed attack helicopters could prove prohibitive. But as a thought the temptation was there.

As we now stand it has been re-listed, for the third time now and I have, arguably a false hope, that maybe I have filtered the complete morons out now. We'll see.

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Bad Combinations

2011-05-27T23:05:00.000+01:00

1 - Attending a funeral for a man, who really didn't deserve that.

2 - A large glass of Jack Daniels.

3 - Kate Bush: 'a woman's work' on repeat. starting with the line 'Pray God you can cope'

4 - Thinking of my children and who'll look after them when I am not here (see number 1).

5 - Hating that I can't do anything about number 4 and will miss so much of their life. And I don't want to miss a moment.

6 - wish I could turn off my brain thinking, just once.

Not Too Bad

2011-05-24T23:52:00.000+01:00

Moved into a very uncomfortable place today. I returned to running club. A place I have not been for a long time, loads of excuses and complications along the way, but I am back there and the last few weeks that I have been out and running/racketballing has seemed to help and the evening session wasn't as tough as I had imagined it could have been. The one noticeable drawback is that training on a playing field really punished my legs, which are far more used to the feel of tarmac, which although jars the joints, doesn't sap strength quite as impressively like a grassy, shock absorbing field. For those asking, I hear, what is the toughest terrain to train/run on? Sand, every time, just plain difficult and strength destroying I've found.

So here we go again, I have a half marathon in August. There is three years of neglect to turn around.

Trying Too Hard To Intellectualise The Place I Call Home.

2011-05-23T15:45:00.000+01:00

I had the pleasure of using public transport today, not often I get this treat but it is a time to reminisce back to when I didn't drive and how I achieved large levels of reading on public transport. Something I miss while driving, apparently ruled unsafe.

So, imagine my joy, being a fan of English romantic poets that when I went to disembark off the bus, I passed a woman sat in her seat, who on the back of her neck had had tattooed, in what I imagine she thinks elegant hand writing looks like, because that is what makes neck tattoo's look good obviously, the words, 'Byron's Bitch'. Now, living in the district where Lord Byron was bought up and had his ancestral home, Newstead Abbey and also not more than 7 miles from the Church where his grave is, although all that is buried there is his reclaimed heart. I thought to myself that, apart from the language, the tattoo was a great way for her to publicly demonstrate her adoration to, arguably, England's finest 19th Century poet.

We need more of this.

The Hardest Part Of The Year

2011-05-22T23:35:00.000+01:00

The domestic football season finished today. Thus ends the 2010-11 season and one I personally will not be sad to see the back of. One in which the club I have followed and Loved all my life nearly went out of business, destroyed by the greed of american's, rescued by even more american's. The return of the King and next season I will great with more optimism than I have done for the last 4 years. Sadly, this wait will now be for 3 months.... No football for 3, whole, months! I hate the summers where there are no European Championships or world cups. They make for sad summers.

It's A Good Start

2011-05-20T23:40:00.000+01:00

Today witnessed the first exodus of bulky items from our house, which were solely child related. After the birth of our first child, we like most other new parents, realised we would have to transport her around somehow so we purchased a second hand Pram, and a new car seat. We bought the pram off ebay, as we felt that paying the ridiculous amounts for a new one was a huge false economy. We ended up with about £400 worth of 'Travel System' for about £140 and a £70 car seat, so we halved to a certain extent what we could have chosen to spend. The only downside to the pram was that it had a scratch on one of the struts, which was hardly earth shattering and meant we had a quality pram for half the price, which freed up money to buy other stuff for the flump.

Since we have had flump 2: The sequel. We moved into a double buggy which is a lot niftier and trendier than the original pram/buggy. It also holds two flumps! The decision was then taken to off load the original pram 'travel system' from whence it came, via Ebay. Today it was sold, for a respectable sum, nowhere near the original amount but more than I expected. The real benefit for me is that it marks the turning point from babies to toddlers and the beginning exodus of the baby stuff too! Had we stuck with the one flump then we'd be moving a lot more out, as it is we have another year or so until we can really begin shifting the really bulky baby items out. I long to the see the giant, but wonderful bargain, plastic changing table used by boy flump and hopefully the Ikea changing unit we travelled through deepest, darkest Yorkshire to collect and bring home, which is now a little battered and bruised and won't be missed when it goes, and I doubt it will be re-sold. I think it is developing into a tip item myself.

So, while it is good to declutter the baby stuff we are also bringing in more toddler stuff at the same time, but this happens to be a little less bulky and easier to sort than large, inanimate pieces of furniture or the point of this post, the silver cross travel system and car seat!

An Enjoyable Night In

2011-05-19T18:54:00.001+01:00

Tonight is the date of the local district Council AGM. As a councillor elected in 2007 until 2011, this will be the first AGM I have not been requested to attend. I will not miss this event. The joy of AGM's are that if you have done it right the format and decisions have been reached before hand, either through having a majority present or you have done the deal before hand, as we had in 2007.

I specifically despised the Full Council meetings from the beginning. It is the show. event where councillors who are usually civil and open to consensus in committee decide to preen like peacocks, and pick fights where there is none and get reported to the standard committee for petty abuse, this is mainly the group leaders, who have some agenda to push or some point to score with the press in attendance 'playing to the gallery', hoping that it will appear in next weeks local. All for show, allied to poor behaviour, from grown adults no less, and my ex-leader was sadly the main culprit.

All of this ridiculous posturing made me resent the wasted hr and a half or 2 hours of my life, when I could have been achieving something constructive in a committee
away from the ego fuelled chamber. Fortunately only once a month, but it was a depressing time nonetheless for that moment. So tonight I am relaxed and shall enjoy the evening with the knowledge that at no point will my head be in my hands, shaking in disbelief at grown adults behaving like school children.

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Sometimes The Most shocking Is The Most Surprising

2011-05-17T22:50:00.000+01:00

Death has no respect. Death is indiscriminate; Be you good or evil, rich or poor it strikes with the same venom and finality. It never ceases to moralise the person it strikes, it just takes with no judgement. It is harder when it takes without warning. This situation has impacted on my life three times, so far. All significant for different reasons and discovered in different ways, and now thinking of them, all happened to be men. The reason I am writing this is that one happened yesterday, to someone I had only known for four years through running club, and who, seemingly as fit as a butchers dog to my knowledge and who I have run and chatted with often, spoke of life, children, retirement, etc. The stuff you talk to friends about. It really is a hammer blow that evacuates the wind from your lungs when you find out that they will no longer be there, anymore. The next time I go to running club, he will not be there, there will be a person shaped hole where once he ran, never to be filled. And it is the suddenness that increases the impact of that hammer blow. I drove past him last week, while he was gardening and I was campaigning. Strangely I felt that I should have pulled over and quickly said 'hi', which I usually did when I saw him, but today I was in a rush and the thought was removed by the knowledge that I would see him when I got back into running club. And now I won't, and I wish I had. That is the hardest part of sudden departures, you have never had the opportunity to say goodbye.

My Grandfather died on a street in Mansfield. Alone and undoubtedly terrified of what was happening and completely unexpected. I still remember the game I was playing on my play station, when my mother came in, full of tears and broke 'the news', (tomb raider 2). I was 24 at the time, yet at that moment I was an ageless grandson without a grandfather. A bond had been ripped from me and was never to be repaired. The pain has never healed, but merely been numbed by time to a point when there is guilt when you remember you haven't thought of him for a while. It was the suddenness that hurt the most because I never got the time to say goodbye. That only happened when I saw his body, dressed for the funeral, lying within the coffin at the funeral parlour. It is hard to say goodbye to someone who appears to only be sleeping. Without a shadow of a doubt that was the hardest thing I have ever experienced. Now I have had children I very occasionally wonder whether I have a right to ban them from viewing my dressed cadaver, when the time comes. The sadness is that I think of these things already.

The third event occured at University when I was studying as an undergraduate and within our year group, which was not large, as classics is wildly unpopular, was a former accountant, who had worked all his life and retired at 60 and had decided to get his degree in classics and it had always been a passion of his and he was a good scholar. We worked pretty close for three years and I often found myself guiding him through Roman Art and we often ended up on the same seminar groups. Where surrounded by vibrant, naive 18year olds he dispensed the wisdom accrued from a lifetime of work and effort and inspired us to try and put as much effort into our studies that he did. Yet, it was only two years later when I was reading my 'Pegasus' magazine, the classics department magizine to which I subscribe, when a few pages in there was an article about Nick, written by his wife, explaining his sudden death only 2 years after graduating with us, and how he had managed to see himself achieve a life ambition in gaining his degree. And how he would have thanked all the staff and students who worked with him through those three years in the mid-nineties. Again, it was a case of reading the article over and over again, just to ensure that you have read it correctly and it was the truth. The suddenness, again, taking your emotions by surprise leaves you reeling as the memories in all these cases, at least the last one is knowing that they were fine and full of strength. And the next news of them is that, that strength has been stolen.

So, as I say a small prayer for his family. I shall pour myself a small bourbon and raise my glass to these three and thank them for all they bought into my life, in varying degrees of times and attention but all had a positive impact. Salute, Douglas, Nick and Brian!

Bomb's Away

2011-05-10T11:14:00.001+01:00

It's not every day that you wake up to your street being cordoned off by the Police. It's certainly the first time for me, even more so because of a suspicious package and to then be informed that the army bomb disposal team is on it's way to investigate. We managed to get out just in time as we were due to visit somebody and when we arrived back there were no missing houses, no blackened crater where the road once was. I presume it was a false alarm, a poorly delivered 'amazon' parcel or the like, maybe just a box of old pant's and Lego.

What it did reveal is how much I despise the nanny-ish ways that the state can deal with you. The classic conversation with the policeman along the lines of, can we leave by the other exit as the package is at the bottom of the other end of the street? Replied to by, 'it's for your own safety if you stay in the house and don't go'. The frustration of this still gets me as I am the judge of my own safety. Should I choose to follow a path and it goes wrong, then it is 'my' fault. Nobody else's.

And quite frankly, going out in a huge fireball appeals to the Hollywood actor within me, flinging myself over the church wall to protect myself. Hopefully our street is no longer a target for the bombers!

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Pretty Good Years

2011-05-08T23:56:00.001+01:00

Everything seems to run in four year phases. My four year stint as a district councillor came to an end last week. I was not sad, it is something in effect I was kind of hoping would happen for, probably, two years now. The one sadness was that the actual work was interesting and varied and I can honestly say that I served them all well, the residents got a good service. It was outside factors really, that pointed me towards seeing not being elected as a relief to me personally and professionally. Over the last few weeks I have been looking at where I was and where I am now, four years on. I have faced and experienced some pretty huge changes. In 2007 when elected, I was never married. Now I am facing my upcoming fourth anniversary. I now have responsibility for 2 children, one just about to turn two and the other is only 4months old, arguably the cause of my most fundamental life changes and experiences over the last few years. both have been an absolute joy in every way. At times, the responsibility is terrifying and there have been scary moments when they fall ill, but all together it's been a great time and they really are my future and priority. At times I catch myself thinking of what they will become, how they will develop. Who'll become the best Classicist, etc. Important stuff like this. Will they cope with the world better than I? I hope so as I would like to think that I can help them avoid pitfalls that befell me and I was too naive and sheltered and had no fatherly guidance to help me out. But everyone wants that as a parent, don't they? To provide improvement for their life over what I had.

So I face a future that will be different to the last four years. I would like to think that it will prove a little less hectic than the past four but will be as equally enjoyable, filled to the brim and develops me, so that in 2015 I can look back again and see a distinct change.

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long Hot Summer Of Getting Back Into It

2011-04-27T21:52:00.001+01:00

The last week has seen exceptional weather which can be rare for this time of year, but what has also been a rarer sights back too. A lesser spotted running me. Having now been an unfrequent runner, if put politely, over the last few years, certainly from the middle of 2008 onwards. Although I have done the odd half marathon or so since. What I haven't done is a systematic training plan, it's been get just enough to race and then stop, repeat.
There have been enough valid reasons and unacceptable excuses over the years and enough to make me de-motivated enough to not really be bothered by this either.
One of the valid reasons has been the increase in family members, while not being a burden, they have, in their own new born way, created havoc with our previous routines. We are having no other children so we shall now just watch them grow and go to bed earlier, so the really valid reason is no more, no more excuses either so with no more adequate defences, like Kasparov against Deep Blue (for you chess aficionados out there).

Therefore over the bank holiday I have begun to shake off the torpor and put the running shoes on again, properly. My aim is to get fit again and lose that weight gain and finally, get back racing

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Okay So I Crumbled In The End

2011-04-26T22:27:00.000+01:00

Sadly it's true. I have over the previous year been saving what money has come my way, such as birthday and christmas, etc. Mainly because I haven't managed to think of anything I really wanted at all and to a certain extent I have managed to curb my excesses by my lovely wife, who has been nothing if not a calming influence, at times. I have managed to curb my love of books and CD's but this has been helped by not really having or making time to read of late with a young family and the library has been, as always a good source of reading material. The Notts catalogue has always been superior to the Devon catalogue and when I had to buy books because there was, at that point, no internet and therefore I had read most of the books from the local libraries within a 10mile radius. The music was pretty similar as now with Spotify I have access to most decent new music coming out and my back catalogue of music is as it has always been, excellent and well balanced from Led Zeppelin to Lute music of the Elizabethan era! So, apart from that I don't really spend on anything on a monthly or yearly basis. The two exceptions have recently proved to be pens and Gadgets. I do love a nice pen and I certainly love a nice new gadget.

To this end I have been prevaricating between what I would prefer the amazon Kindle or the Apple Ipad. I have been gravitating towards the kindle as it is substantially cheaper and is singularly an E-book reader and the reviews are impressive too and at just over a £100 it was quite high on my radar as I have just passed through my 35th *cough* I had the money to easily purchase the Kindle and was sorely tempted, but then as always my wife came to the rescue with her inherent wisdom. The idea was put into my mind by her that although the ipad is not a patch on the kindle as a pure e-reader, proving that in gadgets, single purpose devices will always outperform multi-functional devices on the whole, but it does give you more but does come at a price, over three times as much to be exact.

My wife therefore suggested that I could save for longer and get an Ipad instead, which has always appealed as it is a thing of imaginable beauty and I had occasion to toy with one at PC World, every now and again. It was aesthetically pleasing to say the least as most Apple design tends to be. I thought to myself that this made sense and would entail another couple of years worth of saving but as the years go by so the price drops too, when new models are bought out. It so happened that Apple released the Ipad 2, which gave it two cameras mainly, which has meant that the original Ipad has reduced in price by over £80. At which point I had a thought to myself that I owned something that I had had for many years and although I enjoyed having them they served no real purpose, but I knew they were of some value, so I actually for the first time in 10yrs got off my butt and had them valued. Both Medals from WW1 came back valued at a couple of hundred pounds as they were not a full set, sadly I have never been able to complete the set. Armed with this knowledge and the lower cost of the entry level Ipad. I thought to myself, well why not sell them, so I did and the money enabled me to cover the cost of the reduced Ipad. This is it.

It's pretty darn cool, I have to say. Is it worth the money. As a former sceptic, I think it probably is. My wife would rather have a netbook, which could be a £100 cheaper and she makes very valid points and I understand them. But I will stick with a review I once read on the ipad when it came out. 'What it does well, it does very well, better than anything around. but it does not do some things too.'

The Holidays You Just Can't turn Down

2011-04-11T14:08:00.000+01:00

While passing through the local town on a few errands I passed the local travel agents so I decide to have a little window shopping. When I came across the most bizarre holiday advert I have seen. Usually there are lots of card board rectangles, advertising 14 days in Ibiza, 7 days in Gran Canaria, 3 day city break to Paris, etc. Now I am not sure whether its the demographic of where I live but my heart sank when I spotted this in the window and I decided that there and then I don't think I'll be taking them up on the offer of this holiday. It just didn't appeal to me, not like Barcelona, Vienna or Budapest.....

.....Croydon?

How Sacked Was This Fore Court Worker

2011-04-02T09:26:00.000+01:00

A nice, good news story I think, but a little aggrieved I wasn't in the Bradford area, when due to human error, probably called Kevin. Asda set their forecourt fuel price by misplacing the decimal point! BBC News - Asda sold 12.9p petrol by mistake in Bradford Instead of selling it for £1.29. The unmanned pay at the kiosk machines had been set to charge at 12.9 pence per litre! This became, somewhat unsurprisingly, the most popular fuel stop in the Bradford area, one bloke paid £4.23 for 32.77litres of petrol. At normal prices that would have been £42! saving himself a rather tidy, £38. And yes, there did appear to be the 'odd' person returning to fill jerry cans of fuel.

And the moral of this story? Well according to the trading standards officer '"Generally speaking retailers, whether they sell petrol or whatever, generally have to sell it at the price it is advertised at," he said."So if it is advertised at the pump at a low price, then it is just a bit of good fortune for the consumer'. This fuel bonanza lasted from10.30pm to 12.30am, when the pumps were shut down after alarms was raised. I imagine the alarms were two fold. The police apparently arriving to manage the queue of cars and the petrol pumps being drained in two hours!

Man Who Loves Slippers.

2011-04-01T21:11:00.000+01:00

For those of you out there who are aware of me know I have a small love of a nice and refined slipper. A well chosen slipper is like a well chosen dog. They are practically useful and can become a close companion and give you many years of love, if well looked after. Indeed, you cannot be classed a gentleman, I would propose, without possessing a pair of slippers preferably, luxurious. I live my philosophy. Imagine my delight when I had to purchase a second pair of slippers which will reside in the new home of the in-laws. Like that gun dog companion, they will sit and wait at this house and await their masters arrival, then they will provide that quiet but elegant slipper refinement with no complaint they will merely serve.

Today I set out with my family to purchase the second pair of slippers. I achieved most of my goals. The only thing I failed in was that my chosen slipper colour is a deep maroon. They did not have maroon, the choice was black or dark blue. I went for the dark blue, here they are;

I think these photos paint the true quality of these slippers. The tag actually said 'Luxury' Slippers and they were right. It is like having your feet wrapped in a duvet. A truly elegant slipper choice. My wife disagreed. Her preferred choice was a little staid I thought and lacked the Pizzaz that these bad boys have.

Derwent Reservoir

2011-04-01T10:59:00.000+01:00

When our friends first invited us away and mentioned Derwent reservoir, I initially thought that this was somewhere in Derbyshire. This is because the only place I know of 'derwent' is related to Derbyshire, a lovely county though. When I discovered that there is another Derwent further north then it all started to click together! After our arrival we went and had a nice walk around the reservoir, which is an exceptionally impressive piece of state overriding nature. The Roman's would have been pleased with this, they had a huge pride in harnessing nature as it meant they were more powerful than Gods, which is a long story but an interesting one, which I may relate one day.

Derwent Reservoir was created by flooding the valley, and unlike the Derwent Reservoir in Derbyshire there is no small villages submerged by the flooding, it was just a vast expanse of farmland, although at very low water levels there is a small road bridge that will pop up to show the old roadway. But no churches or stone cottages!

Derwent Reservoir with Fisherman, the reservoir is one of the biggest fisheries in the country.

Surrounding the reservoir appeared to be an army of anglers! I have 'angled' a little in the past, mainly as a young kid, because when my parents had a B&B we used to have an Irish visitor called 'Billy' who was a made angler and came to Devon to fish and sometimes he would take us out fishing at the breakwater in Brixham harbour. It was never something I developed a passion for and anglers are all apparently passionate about the sport, which is the biggest participation sport in the country! But on that day there were a lot of anglers there, doing what anglers do best, sitting and waiting with about three rods fixed into the reservoir.

Another angler, who was fishing though looks to me like he's filling the reservoir his own way via a toilet stop. Dam in the background. Gives you an idea of the width of the reservoir.

Speaking of anglers, our friends and I have two eldest daughters, both curious. Combine this with the now legendary friendliness of people in the north, which having moved from the south I will say is tends to be true and that the further north you get, then generally, people are more friendly and open to strangers. This was proved when both Grace and Esther were looking at the ducks by the waters edge, Grace enjoys this particularly as the word, 'Duck' is one she is quite good at saying. But while 'duck watching', a gentleman angler approached them and us and asked if they'd like to see a real fish. What child can refuse that? and so while we went towards the waters edge, the man reached into his net and pulled out a average sized rainbow trout. Though encouraging the children to touch the fish, one of the girls who seems a lot braver than the other one, my daughter started to cry at the idea of touching a live fish! So I wasn't quite sure what she made of the fish which stared at her, probably wandering why it wasn't covered in batter and next to a plater of chips. Which even for me is the preferable way that I want to see a fish, with a small dollop of ketchup!

At one point, while the angler was explaining loads of stuff to the girls and displaying his fish bait which were like little sparkly yellow disco balls! Non-live bait apparently, much better than a box full of blood worms and maggots, I thought he was about to offer to babysit the girls and teach them how to fish for the afternoon and the image of them both returning to the cottage with 15lbs of trout under each arm terrified me! He was a really nice bloke and obviously a committed angler, with all the kit. I think the girls enjoyed the experience, I doubt they'll take up competitive match angling though, for which I am quite grateful if only because the house will smell better in the long term.

Derwent was a lovely place and very picturesque though you ignore the wind coming off the water at your peril as it makes it at times quite cold. I did see the odd military helicopter flying over the reservoir, it was I am led to believe an army based chinock helicopter, which is a lot bigger than you imagine it too be, but still impressive. The surrounding area is pretty chock full of big army bases, like Catterick and RAF bases like Leeming and Disforth, obviously it is a place the military like. I like it too.

Blanchard Visit

2011-03-31T00:26:00.000+01:00

While in County Durham we visited the nearby village of Blanchard. It is a picturesque village. Imagine, if you will a small village in any agatha christie novel and you have Blanchard. It's tiny. It had a beautiful looking pub, but It seemed to possess only three shops, a post office general store, a deli and a hat shop?! The kind of shop every village in the middle of nowhere is famed for; the obligatory bespoke hat shop, because they don't sell hats in towns or cities so you'd drive miles to an almost ghost village to buy a hat. Bizarrely we did see someone drop off people for the hat shop while we were there! But it wasn't at the hat shop because the lady whom I presume runs the hat shop had a notice on the shop door saying, she was at home and please go and see her there. There was a giant hat attached to her house's driveway gate as a help. But here are some photos from the very lovely but strangely empty village of Blanchard

Bay Bridge

This was taken from the children's playground which was pretty good. But the best thing about the playground was the scene when you turned 180 degrees, it looked like

This......

Truly, if you were tasked with visually describing an English rural idyll on a sunny day, you'd be hard pressed to present anything that deviated greatly from this. It's almost a Constable painting, really. It's a breathtaking location and the benefit was that the local authority had created a pathway around some of this. I didn't have time to explore it all as I walked far enough to keep the youngest, Joshua asleep, through the continual movement, but I reached that treeline in the distance and the path turned to a trail path, so I have no idea how far it stretched off into the distance. But having reached a fair way down towards the horizon I turned and photographed the playground, which sits in front of the village.

Shows how amazing the day was, weather wise, like a pure Summer day, the only thing missing between me and the playground was a village cricket team and you'd have that long quoted and oft dreamed of 'golden age' of England, as so often lamented by the Daily Mail, as no longer existing, which explains why our country, to them, is an abject shadow of this so called 'Golden Age of the 1950's'. Slightly moving off topic one of my perennial bug bears is this, I call it the Daily Mail fixation that life was better 'back then', these generational/mythical golden age's and how they hark back to these times and wish we regressed. Wrong on so many levels and I always found that my view was summed up by the lyrics to the Talking Heads song 'Nothing But Flowers' There were no golden ages, nor will there ever be. We may look back fondly on different generations, but each have good things and terrible things. So often we are told that in the 1950's that you could leave your door open and not get burgled, which is true I am sure because the country was still bankrupt and people had nothing really worth stealing. Yet the way it is portrayed the 50's according to the Daily Mail was a crime free age. Not a society that could produce acid bath murderers, etc. How people knew all their neighbours and everyone was friendly an tolerant, try telling this to the first generation West Indians who invited over by the UK to fill the servile, unskilled jobs post-empire were treated like second class citizens. There is no golden generation; even today we live (in the western world) with a standard of living unimaginable even just 20 yrs ago. We are wealthier, more energy hungry, more advanced technologically and still? with all this wealth and all this waste 85% of the rest of the world lives under corrupt regimes, half starved half terrorised with no sight of redemption. In 30yrs time no doubt, this time will also be seen as a golden age I am sure.

Removing myself from the soap box, before my wife shouts at me for being a bore, I shall continue the journey into Blanchard. Lets visit the town centre;

And there it is flanked on one side by small, almost 'alms' type housing (top) and on the other side some kind of gate house (associated with the abbey?) which leads into some more housing and the shops. Opposite the Gate house (bottom) is the pub, the 'lord Crewe' (I presume the 3rd Baron Crewe, Nathaniel Crewe, Bishop of Durham, hence the close association).

The Lord Crewe Pub

As someone who has frequented the odd hundred or so pubs during what I call my 'Pub Years', if my skill at drawing was better and the high chief of CAMRA cam to me and said, 'Tony, please draw me a picture of your ideal pub.' This pub would be in the top ten lookalikes. It's a beautiful pub and it looks as though it should serve beautiful real ale, it probably doesn't (refer to earlier paragraph of harking to fantasy). What it certainly would have in the height of summer is a great place to sit outside and feel the sun on your back while having a drink with friends and chatting. It's a pub Inspector Morse would drink in and that's usually enough for me.

And Finally, here it is, the bottom of the town square and between those two properties runs, the main road in and out of the village. On passing through you are almost immediately hit by a huge climb up a hill out of the village, whether this signifies that you are climbing into the modern world or not I can't say. All I can say is it's a wonderfully picturesque village, yet it has the feel of a living museum too. I cannot truly believe there are huge amounts of work in the village and I can't remember seeing a school, in fact the only building which seemed to be an old school house, was a tea shop, the population is quoted as 140. Small but perfectly formed?

The Joy Of Occasionally Escaping Into The Wilds.

2011-03-30T22:38:00.000+01:00

were in the fortunate position of being asked by a couple of our friends if we fancied a small escape to the country recently. After the birth of our second child, it seemed almost perfect timing as with these events a certain amount of tiredness starts to become ingrained into the psyche gradually wearing you down from the inside out until you begin fraying a little, like old jeans. The destination was County Durham, a place I have never been too and actually hand on hand probably would not have been my first pick for a holiday destination, my knowledge of the Prince Bishops County is limited to the fact that it contains Durham. That's not a lot of fact-ige. So to start with it was perfectly timed and promised a whole new county to experience in a holiday cottage that promised a 'games barn' too! The only compromise, if you can call it that was a complete and total loss of Phone signal and internet (internet accessed through the wi-fi in the games barn). Having no phone sginal for 4 days proved quite a pleasant experience, it felt like 1996 again which was when I bought my first mobile phone! like this one here.

The friends we went away with have iphones and I have a BlackBerry, times have certainly changed phone wise and not in that many years either. I still remember ringing people from phone boxes. I have no idea how I shall explain this process to my children. But anyway I am digressing.

After much travelling through windy and winding roads, after leaving the A1 where our near two year old decided again to throw up all over the car seat. This time she vomited up strawberry's from lunch, which in the vomit stakes, is actually quite an appealing choice. Relatively difficult to clean up but the car did smell quite lovely and fruity all the way to the cottage almost like an air freshener really. Though the image of me trudging through Leeming services hand in hand with a child who wore only a pair of trousers and a short sleeved white vest covered in strawberry stains while her hair had been matted by wet wipes, will forever live in my memory as though I was escorting the worlds smallest Hobo. We did though arrive, at about 5pm. Just in time for dinner.

The cottage is set in quite frankly some of the prettiest countryside in the country. Bordering the derwent reservoir and it looked a little something like this. Above and below are the views to the back of the cottage.Down in the valley sits the Derwent Reservoir.

View from cottages showing playground

View from Back of cottages

The Playground was pretty neat too, except for the one basic flaw that at some point on the slide a small child can go from sitting at the top and within 2 metres of slide somehow accelerate to the velocity required to break the Earth's gravitational pull. Which is impressive and I did consider phoning Professor Brian Cox, had I had a phone signal of course! Grace, my daughter as I kept catching her at the bottom of the slide to stop her turning into the child version of the delorean in back to the future, having to explain to my wife where our daughter has gone by pointing at a flaming streak across a playgroud, while appearing saddened but at the same time thinking that would be the coolest thing in the world, turning your children into time machines, but my wife may disagree. But for the kids it was a good place, with sandpit too. But the icing on the cake as far as they were concerned was the 'games barn', which, was a pretty cool idea who ever had it. To build a purpose built building of a fairly vast size that contained some games. Our friends said that it did possess a ball pool which was sadly not there, also not there was the puck from the air hockey, arguably a more fundamental issue and perhaps maybe someone of an older generation may have mistaken it for a coaster and taken it to one of the cottages. For all I know it may have been under my coffee all week. They seemed vaguely puck like I seem to remember. But it did possess plastic vehicles, building blocks, skittles, books and toys so it wasn't too bad at all.

'Take me to the games barn, games barn'

So all in all a great place for children. Plenty to do inside and out and Grace had a great time, her brother who at nearly 2 months just kind of lay there and dribbled really, which is pretty much what his dad would like to do really. It's been a tough year I guess.

The accommodation was fantastic too and I will always say that you can judge a quality self catering place by the standard of their kitchen knives and pan set. I am pleased to say that both of these were great, although the knives were a little blunt!

So we had great weather, great facilities and great company with which to enjoy ourselves, though being able to enjoy yourselves when you have 2 couples and 4 young and very young children between them is always a term that needs defining. It was fun though and a nice break away. We even managed to visit places too! Though I was saddened that the Roman town nearby was closed on the days we were there. I thought that would have been a great place to go, but alas not to be. I do have one complaint in that the couple we went with by sheer chance I am told found a poor farm shop but then discovered what sounded like the greatest ice cream farm shop in County Durham! While we were at Morrisons, the reasons for which could be the fact that had I not been there, we'd have had curry for dinner but with no rice. Which shows how badly organised I am before a holiday.

The whole of the family had a great time with Paul & Zoe and the fantastic Esther 'Chugger' and also finally but by now means the least, the Jolly little MJ who seemed to spend the whole time just being really content and smiley. The saddest part was leaving as the company had been great but the time away had been too short!

Question Time

2011-03-15T23:44:00.001Z

At the symposium tonight there was a question and answer session at the end. The best question of the night was, coincidently, mine and here it is;

'in the introduction you seemed to imply that the nature and presentation of Roman sexuality was fairly homogenous throughout the empire. Do you believe this to be the case? Or is there also a possibility that the nature of roman sexuality might vary with the input of local influences of the provincial culture?'

A good question I thought which at least prompted two of the speakers to disagree.

A Night Out With The Boys.

2011-03-15T20:18:00.001Z

Minus of course, the boys. I was allowed out and I have been flying solo. The destination was a pre-arranged symposium on Roman Sexuality to compliment an exhibition of artifacts from the british museum. Which could be described as 'one cup and a hundred varieties of penises'.

The cup admittedly was the 'warren cup', which pre 1970 was refused, when offered for sale by most british museums and not to be outdone, turned away by a customs official in the US, in the 50's. The reason? The Warren cup is the only as yet discovered silver cup, Roman in origin, depicting 2 scenes of men engaged in homoerotic acts. The attitude and the law changed and so finally the Warren cup was finally bought by the British museum and was the centre piece of the exhibition. Its near perfect condition after 2000 yrs is incredible.

Depressingly, out of the 4 arranged speakers, all of whom were goood, only by the 3rd did we reach a speaker who exceeded my academic qualifications; this depresses me, not from the point of view that they weren't capable they obviously were. One though is going to need to work on his presentation skills before he completes his master, the other masters student, was really enjoyable to listen to, she discussed Egyptian brother sister marriage and how this was portrayed by the romans. His was on sexual graffiti found in Pompeii and the house of menander. What depresses is I sometimes see when I attend these, myself down there, declaiming on some obscure classical area. Perhaps I feel it as a loss that I never really went after the PhD when I should have. I still, just, remain convinced my mind is sharp enough to complete one.

I don't wake up every morning cursing this error. I really don't as I am presently pretty happy with my lot as far as I can be. But when in these situations I do have a realisation that I have either missed out or I confirm that dream of one day going for it, just to prove that last final point to an old teacher who sat across from my mother at a 4th year parents eveing and in my presence proceeded to tell her that I would struggle to finish A levels, and a degree was totally out of the question.

Mr Lander, that odious little man, at that point inspired me to prove him wrong, which I did when I achieved my degree easily, even deliberately dropping a class from a predicted first to a 2:1 through my colossal and sheer arrogance at the time, for a bonkers reason, is seem to remember. After the degree was achieved, I remember clearly that I had nothing more to prove, so I think subconsciously stopped academically striving. If there had been a professor who had challenged me with the classic 'you'd struggle to do a masters and definitely not a PhD I'd probably be Dr Theaker right now! Still no complaints though and there may be still time to crack it, perhaps when the children are a little older.

Until then I shall keep enjoying the symposiums and lectures and quietly but humbly bemoan the passing of time and admire those thrusting young turks, which a greater sense of purpose than me.

The End Of Discovery

2011-03-13T00:08:00.001Z

A very sad last few weeks as the space shuttle Discovery flew and landed its final space mission. To be decomissioned and put out to grass at a museum. Children will now have the opportunity to walk around one of the most amazing vehicles man has ever created and say to themselves, 'this is what a visionary country can do, with the right resources and drive'. Space and its exploration should never be seen as a luxury. It is vital to our survival our race.

The Lost Continent

2011-02-19T00:39:00.000Z

One of my favourite applications that has been created by the introduction of the internet and modern technology is Google Earth. It is a fantastic tool and is continually being updated and improved. You can, literally, spend days wandering around cities and countries. There is however a few anomalies on the GE. One of which has been seized upon by journalists as evidence of Atlantis, the lost island first mentioned by the Ancient Greek philosopher Plato, in his works the Timaeus and Critias. He portrayed a great naval power lying beyond the pillars of hercules [Gibraltar on the European side, and any number of two or more pillars on the african side, such as Jebel Musa in Morrocco]. The Pillars guarded the entry into the Atlantic and in the time of antiquity, passing through them marked the unknown world. Beyond the pillars sat Atlantis according to Plato. There are others, more modern historians who believe it may be located in the med. The island of Thera, a volcanic island destroyed by its own force.

There are a few places within Western culture that still holds in the collective conscience as mysterious lands that epitomised 'good' civilisation. They still intrigue the modern mind. Although the new generation of children are perhaps lost to these mysterious civilisations. As with Atlantis, there is the British tradition of Arthur's Camelot, which has always fascinated me, and I am of the camp that I think Wales seems the most likely place, but there are many others who would argue other areas are more appropriate to the legend. The isle of Avalon, though I am certain that this does tie into glastonbury as that whole area would have been under water and the tor area would have made an isle within a large water flooded area.

They are intriguing to us because they are almost impossible to pin point, in the main because they come from a time when we have no record or the record we have uses locations we no longer are aware of, especially in the case of placing the battles of Arthur. With Atlantis, we have a description of a large and powerful naval power. A land which has been taken more seriously than it was in classical times when Plato mentioned it. Like Arthur, Atlantis could well be a collection of legends and myth intertwined by Plato and moulded into a singular narrative. The destruction of Atlantis in one day and night, seems only achievable by a natural but catastrophic event (such as the destruction of Thera, which is often argued to be the inspiration of the destruction), but the romance of an idea is hard to shift from the psyche and Atlantis to me is one. The idea of a higher society at its peak, perhaps bought low by it's own power and corruption removed by a catastrophic accident, almost as a divinely inspired punishment. Another great by product of the Atlantean and Arthurian legends is the total vagueness of evidence so you can build stories upon them from your own imagination, because there are no right or wrongs.

Atlantis could have been destroyed by their own hubris, a punishment of the Gods, for attempting to become Gods. They may have destroyed themselves, to prevent their advanced technology falling into the hands of the new empires forming around them, a noble sacrifice. they may never have existed at all. All three are equally as valid you can make of myths what you wish really. That's the point and attraction of them, their malleable nature.

Here are the images from Google earth;

As you can see here is the image taken from Google Earth, that has caused the furore. Those of a classical bent noticed the layout of lines was classical in the extreme, both in the view of ancient town planning and fortified camp layout. Sadly not to be, as Google point out, it is explained as the sonar residue of ships mapping the sea floor. A shame, as the romantic within me hoped for.

Yet Google Earth has been quite revolutionary in some ways and it has at times revealed areas we never knew of. The strongest of these was to reveal a large woodland, which had never been mapped at all and now was revealed on google earth. An expedition was sent out to explore the forest and found a whole host of new species of animals.

This Is What Public Art Is About.

2011-02-13T00:50:00.000Z

If you lived within 50miles of me you would have heard the audible gasp of delight when I initally saw this headline, on the BBC website. This was swiftly tempered by the fact that although the photo looked like the kind of dreams I have. The Jelly Babies will not, in any way, be made of Jelly.

Heroes Never Really Die Do They?

2011-02-11T01:07:00.000Z

I am not sure how I came onto this, this evening but I am glad I did as it inevitably involves some You Tube time. I was 15 in 1991 and about to begin my two years of GCSE courses. It was November and like I said I had just started the GCSE's the september gone (for my wife's information, she'd have been in her 2nd year at University! and did she ever think, in 1991 that in Brixham, Devon, her future husband was doing GCSE's not knowing her or his own future? I love thinking of these things), she probably didn't know that he was about to mourn the loss of a hero. I didn't have many heroes then, but Freddie Mercury was one. Queen where one of the biggest bands in the world and had been for the past decade. There time was probably coming to an end as 1991 saw the release, on the 19th of November, U2's follow up and transformational album, Achtung Baby, confirming them as the new kings of rock and roll. 4 days later Freddie Mercury confirmed the rumours that he was suffering from HIV/AIDS. The following day, he died and one of the artists consistently voted best male singer of his generation and of rock and roll disappeared from this earth, his legacy was that voice and the music and songs of Queen.

2011 is the 20th Anniversary of his passing. I still remember the TV newsflash, when they interrupted Television programmes, not like now with 24 hr rolling news. So much of our culture has altered irrecoverably in 20yrs, some of it for better, such as our perception of HIV/AIDS for one, but some aspects decidedly changed for the worst. So I remember the Newsflash and I remember which bedroom in our house I watched Queen perform their songs with guest artists. I seem to remember also the sense of frustration that a 'hero' had been taken from me and that he could not be cured, could not be saved and the sense of who would replace him? Being young enough to know no better and naive enough to think heroes could be replaced, they cannot. I remember watching that concert and I remember crying when Seal, who'd found fame with adamski in 1990 and 'killer', and who had then released in 1991 his first self-titled Album, which proved massively successfully that year, sang 'who wants to live for ever', my favourite Queen song, from arguably one of my favorite films, Highlander. For which I struggle not to cry at when it's played in that (Just so my wife knows I am capable of this emotion, bizarrely mainly over music, music in film scenes, or Harry Hill's TV burp!). I cried because I didn't understand why the talented one was taken, when God could have taken 'Bros' instead.

But 20yrs is a long time and I have done things, been places physically good and bad, places mentally good and bad, achieved many things probably failed at more, but here I am. 20yrs on and what hasn't changed is that Mercury will still be a Hero, because Heroes don't die. This is an important point. It is true, Heroes may be taken from the world but what they have left behind cannot be taken. Mercury's music and his voice have not faded over the last 20yrs. When I listen now, It still sounds as strong and as powerful as it did before and for that moment, through his recorded music, Freddie mercury is alive again.

This is the same for my literary hero, David Gemmell, an author whose works I grew up with from my formative years and the one man, who in my life had always been there and his books and his characters to a certain extent authored parts of my character. I learnt to how to live through them, he acted like a surrogate father through his vision of how heroes and men should live and by what standards they should interact with the world, my real father had never really helped with this. When my parents divorced, all the pain I was suffering from was absorbed by David Gemmell and his books . I escaped into his worlds and found solace in the values of his characters and his writing; Honesty, Integrity, strength, care for those weaker, no battle is ever lost until the last. In his books, good was never simple, Good people could often battle with internal darkness, but ultimately good always triumphed. As it should.

But back to Freddie, before my Herodotean digression loses my focus. I love music, it's a fundamental part of my life and also a fundamental part of me really and has been since my early teens. I cannot imagine anything bleaker than a world without music. There always, like David Gemmell said, needs to be a great song in the world. So, here is a few in memory of the first Hero to go, 20yrs ago this year. I hope that one day my son and daughter will appreciate your voice as I do.

Please not that this is a live recording and how his voice is even more remarkable due to the quality he could reach live. There where very few artists who could or can replicate their studio voices live. He was one. Which was the real star quality.

Ah, but he could sing, couldn't he?

You Never Really Know Until It Happens To You

2011-02-10T00:05:00.000Z

When I was growing up there was a story my mum often re-told about myself and my sister, who is 11months younger than me. We were born close together and as a consequence we spent our youth going through the same schools with me continuously in the year above, blazing a trail so to speak. I cannot stress how different we were academically at school, which is where this story comes. It must also be born in mind that we shared the same surname at the time of this. I changed mine in this month, 11 years ago. Hasn't time flown!
My Mum attended my sister parents evening (my father never really did) in her 5th year (we had that at this time, instead of what would now be year 10/11?). She was talking to our history History (who was also deputy headmistress) and the teacher was saying how my sister was essentially not really interested in the subject, not really academic with it and skipped listens and could misbehave in them. School in general never appealed to my sister I think. At which point my mum said something along the lines of, 'She is so different from her brother he's always enjoyed history and did well in his GCSE's last year.' The teacher then said, 'who is that?', my mum then replies, 'Tony Williams'. At which point my mum relates the look on her face as it seems to register. 'Oh, they're related? I knew they had the same way but I couldnt't imagine they are related in any way as they are almost diametrically opposed!'

This is true. I worked hard at school because I love learning. I possessed this belief that was nothing I could not master, especially in history and at school, I worked hard for this teacher because I enjoyed what I was set out to do, so I went further than most of the other year group. I had a flare for history. I still do, it may have been dampened a little through lack of use but it still glows, excusing all the innuendo's loaded into that sentence.

Here's my point. We lived in the same house, we were disciplined on fairly similar grounds when we stepped out of line. I am guessing the values imprinted into us as children were pretty consistent. Yet, after all this we were chalk and cheese. We still are. We epitomise the saying, 'If we weren't family, we'd never be friends.' and we wouldn't, in fact we aren't, because we have nothing in common apart from family ties. So how can this difference be created between siblings? I know some who are like me and I know other siblings who have a relationship I envy greatly and kind of wish I had.

My son and my daughter are both still very young. There is nearly two years between them in birth date. Yet, even after 2 weeks of the second being with us there appears to me a vast difference in their temperament. I admit 2 weeks is no length of time in the grand scheme of things, but even as new born's there are fundamental differences so far. Our son could challenge a mouse in a quietness competition and is more placid now than his sister was, though she has become much more laid back as she has got older, yet now appears to be testing boundaries on an almost daily basis, which though annoying as a parent at times also enables pride as it shows that she is not happy accepting life as it is and continues seeks new avenues of experience. So I welcome the hassle as a sign of developing inquisitiveness. And I cling onto the Aristotlean quote, 'The unexamined life is not worth living.' But seeing the emerging differences is one of the more interesting aspects of becoming a parent. I am not sure how far apart these divisions might reach. Indeed they may reseed as the years pass. The guarantee is an interesting journey of observation though.

The 300

2011-02-04T02:25:00.000Z

And not the Spartans who battled at Thermopylae. But this is my 300th Blog post, wow. A large figure indeed. If I had it in cash form, I'd probably by a gadget of some kind, maybe a camera. But anyway, what to say for the 300th? I could mention the birth of my son, Joshua Douglas, who arrived in circumstances that would not be out of place in an episode of casualty or Eastenders, the scene where you think to yourself; That's so far fetched it's ridiculous. Well it can happen, it happened to us. I kind of think it would be nice if it hadn't but it did. Are you sitting comfortably?

One thing you should know. The plan was always to leave our eldest daughter at home, as we would bring her nanny down to stay the night and babysit while we went to the hospital, which is 20minutes away in Sutton. That was the plan, to disrupt the child as little as possible.

My wife, oh my sweet, stoic wife, who could challenge Thrasea Paetus himself came in at about 5:40pm breathing heavily and looking a little under the weather. I asked if she was okay, as I am caring like that. I then said should I go and get my mum just in case we were going to hospital. She acquiesced and I said I would go and fetch mum, I rang and told her I was on the way so she needed to be ready, while I did this I nipped over to one of our friends to see if she would go over to my wife and keep an eye on our daughter who was still up and would start a nuclear war if Terrie was unable to go after her. I then drove to my nannars.

At Nannars, I found my mum sat and about to start a fresh cup of tea. I pointed out that this may be a little unwise as we needed to get back. My mum looked at me a little bit and said okay. (destiny decision 1). We put her overnight bag in the car and began the journey home, the traffic was virtually non-existant (destiny action 1). We arrived home at 6:15pm to see my wife and Janet and Grace in the front room, my wife was on her hands and knees breathing very heavily. I initially thought that she had misplaced something under the sofa, I then realised that she was in labour, on our NEW front room carpet! My first thought was that my wife had waited for 8yrs to have a new front room carpet and was now going to have a baby on it after 1 month of it being down. There are those that christen new things, Champagne and boats, etc. New Baby and new carpet I had yet to hear of.

I ring the birthing unit at the hospital. I spent the first few minutes going through the usual rigmarole of names and dates, etc. They then ask, how far apart are your wife's contractions? I ask my wife and reply, there is no gap between the contractions. Ah, she says. Does your wife feel like pushing? Um, yes. Yes she does. Is that good or bad? Well, she says. It means that you are not going to come to hospital. It means that we are sending the emergency midwife and the fast response paramedic. Ah, says I, that sounds very exciting. This was roughly 6:20pm. My mum had been sent upstairs to sort our eldest daughter out, whose bedtime it was and as much as she was helping by rubbing mummy's back, she needed to sleep.

The emergency midwife arrives at 6:25pm, it turns out that it was her week for call out and that she lives on the 2nd road from where we live (destiny Action 2). She tells us she was just about to sit down and have dinner when she was called but rushed straight over. She went about preparing the floor, as our neighbour had already put so many towels on the floor I though she was half german and there was a sunbed about, it was impressive. What was equally more impressive where that they were MY towels! My wife now is in complete labour, the midwife, having arrived at 6:25pm delivered our son, who decided to arrive at 6:30pm! She arrived just in time. The fast response paramedic did not arrive in time, proving the irony of his job title as he arrived 5 minutes after our son was born in the front room and our daughter was already back in the room meeting her brother.

So, all in all, it was an evening we had not quite planned to unravel in this way. There were a few things we were exceptionally grateful for, which had it gone any other way would have meant I may have missed the birth, or would have delivered my own with our friend.

one, that my mum's wasn't staying more than 2miles away, as had I it taken 40minutes I would have been too late. I am thnakful my mum decided not to finish her cup of tea (i know she wanted too, she loves tea). That there was no traffic on the way there or the way back meant we were not delayed at all. This could have been catastrophic.

That our friend agreed to come over and look after Grace, then found herself dealing my wife, her friend, in Labour while also trying to look after our 20month old daughter.

That the emergency midwife lived 2 minutes away from us and it was her turn to be on call. Had it been any other midwife we would have been stuffed and our friend and I would have become temporary midwife's. The fact she also arrived just before the birth, as opposed to the emergency paramedic who arrived afterwards was also very helpful.

All this things and scenerio's could have been affected in a small way and would have had potentially catastrophic consequences. Though they didn't and that means we now have a family of four. Each different heights and genders. Two boys and two girls. Father has the casting vote, obviously.

Good times. I love it. Wouldn't want to go through this again though. Not at home.

To An Old Friend

2011-01-21T23:27:00.003Z

Who tonight reminded me just how much I love this woman's work and style. So I thought I'd share too. Admittedly she reminded me through her saying how much she hated Bjork. But hey ho, we can't all have my level of class.

Possible Solution

2011-01-12T21:58:00.000Z

I am now of the mind to attempt lots of specific restores and then transferring them into appropriate folders. That's the best way as oppose to filling the C drive and then manually removing all the bits I don't want.

Grrrr.....Computers

2011-01-12T21:43:00.000Z

I have had enough of windows Vista. It is quite frankly an awful beast of an operating system. Time for a punt on Windows 7. advertised as taking all the good bits from Vista and taking the rubbish out and building better bits on top. It's good as Vista is bad. Now, migrating from operating systems is never fun at the best of times and this, after all is an upgrade not a full install. Well, that was what it was meant to be until Vista stuffed up and I couldn't perform the upgrade process and after many attempts of bypassing or forcing it through it still didn't want to play ball. so fortunately I backed up the laptop before attempting any upgrade.

So, with much gulping the only option available was a full install of the operating system, this, for those who know, involves wiping everything clean from Programmes, to Passwords and Bookmarks, etc. All the annoying stuff that needs reloading and adds on the time involved. This though isn't a huge issue really, in the grand scheme of things albeit frustrating and time consuming. What has proved the issue is restoring the backed up data, such as Photos, etc. Which are all zipped and locked down. I have managed to restore some bits and pieces by restoring the data into the C drive, but this then filled and the restore ended, now this is annoying. Tomorrow will prove to be a day of more frustration as I attempt to get all the bits and pieces I need across onto the hard drive. I can then wipe the external drive and start again with back ups. We'll see how many walls I will have to bang with with my head then.

The Jelly Daddy

2010-12-25T22:29:00.000Z

Christmas is a day of blessing and a day to acknowledge the unepected. Today I experienced both. Through my love of Jelly Babies, delivered unto me the gift of 3kg's worth. I decided that I should open one of my blessings and Lo, the first one out was this, 'wee' thing. I call it Monster Jelly Baby!

Also, as it's also Christmas Day please also note the cross like shape of the Jelly Monster! Coincidence?

Let It Snow, Let It Snow...

2010-12-22T01:08:00.000Z

I am sat at the computer right now. Having been previously warned by a weather App that the area I live in is due some more heavy snow. As of yet it hasn't arrived, but according to my friend who lives in Nottingham, no more than 9 miles away is reporting heavy snow. I am laughing now but I suspect we haven't been completely missed!

You Can Keep The Ipad

2010-12-18T01:28:00.000Z

I have seen another gift that I would prefer for christmas this year, from anybody who is willing to show just how much they appreciate me. It is a Globe in a stand;

It's great to be aware of your geography isn't? Good to have knowledge of the planet you live on, so why not buy me a globe so I can keep up to date with the world. It is diamond cut mother of pearl gemstone panels, creating a 40" Globe. The Oceans and Seas are mother of Pearl and it is set in a 24kt Gold stand, because? Well, why not. All this for the princely sum of £200,000 it tells me on the website. I have no idea why I came across this website, all I can say is it may have involved me looking at £20,000 fountain pens by Conway Stewart. One of these pens would also be acceptable as a Christmas present, if you are feeling to tight to get me the globe. Thanks in anticipation. Did I mention how much I love my wife?

Things You Should Approach With Care.

2010-12-18T00:19:00.000Z

'A few days ago I found myself in PC World. Not often this happens and it was fairly enjoyable as I haven't window shopped for PC stuff and gadgets in a while, so it was good fun. One of the things I saw and had a chance to have a quick play with is this little beasty;

The Apple Ipad. The piece of kit that somehow, and despite not having a market, it appears to have created its own. I cannot say that I was initially a fan. I failed to see how it was an exceptional piece of kit that provided any added value to what you can do with a laptop. It has no USB, It has no Multi tasking functions and it was not cheap. It shouldn't work, when compared with the functionality of for instance a Notebook, which has more functionality and is half the price.

Though, now having just physically held one I now know it is exceptionally beautiful. It truly is a wondrous design and feels remarkably substantial and not quite as awkward to hold and use as I previously thought as I checked out the notes programme and scrolled through the photos on the display model. One of the apps I tried which really blew my mind is the ibooks app. The Apple e-book application that provides 60,000 titles to the kindles more magnificent 450,000 yet the resolution and styling on the Ipad made the book pages look exceptionally crisp and really I can see myself using it should I own one. I have it on the touch, but the screen is annoyingly too small I think to make a good e-reader. I have never had the chance to play with the kindle, and I would like to at some point as that too looks pretty special.

All in all, the Ipad looks pretty special and is exceptionally gorgeous. I don't think I'll be buying one soon, neither can I afford one at present nor would I purchase one when the Ipad 2 is rumoured to be out around february, which should come equipped with camera so there's no real point. And after all the fauning over its loveliness. I have still yet to figure its purpose out though one reveiwer seems to nail it with this;

'it isn’t designed to replace your computer, instead it is designed to make certain tasks very easy..If you are the sort of person who uses a computer for browsing the web and email, then you will like the iPad, if you want to use it for more complicated tasks, at the moment, until we see what multitasking is like you may be better off using a laptop.'

So, there you go. I held a little bit of beauty in my hand that serves no purpose that cannot be improved upon or be more functional in other devices, at a cheaper cost. The Ipad reminds me of some words from the preface to a great novel written by one of my literary heroes, Oscar wilde, in the Picture of Dorian Gray.

'The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely.'

And after I had played with the Ipad and cuddled it intensely and the service assistant had pried it from my cold iron like grip I disappeared to have a look at the mac books....Now, there's a thing of beauty as well as providing some of the best functionality around too.

Reasons To Love The Curiosity Of Humanity, Number 1.

2010-12-17T21:21:00.000Z

For those of you that know me and know my default literature setting. I am an avid Science Fiction man I shall continue to be so, regardless of the down the nose snobbery that Sci fi authors and fans experience from the literary types. I will always prefer to have the opportunity to walk with Paul Atreides through the deserts of Arrakis, in 'Dune', or discuss psychohistory with Hari Seldon on the planet of Terminus, from the 'Foundation' series of books, created from the minds of Frank Herbert and Isaac Asimov. I for one would rather not have to visit Fanny Price in Mansfield Park, or participate in some turgid lesson on manners in the company of Elizabeth Bennet. I would, saying that, like to see how Elizabeth Bennet's manners helps her when Darth Vader arrives overhead in Meryton in his TIE Fighter but that another book.

I think the main reason why I do have a passion about the Science Fiction genre is that there are no limits to what you can write or project from your mind. The only limit truly is your own creativity. With most other forms of literature there are realism bundaries, which if passed define your work as 'unreal'. For Instance, Pride and prejudice based in Victorian England could not therefore, introduce a Model T ford, as this would mean the reader no longer believes the work to be 'of its context'. If this is the case then you stray into Science Fiction even more disrespected little brother, the world of the 'fantasy' Genre.

Which leads me onto limits and why this story is so exciting. Launched 33years ago one year and one month after I was born, and looking into the exact launch date, 9th May 1977 exactly the same date that my daughter was born 32yrs later (Had I known this at the time my daughters passport may well have contained the initials G.V. A somewhat basic space probe called Voyager was launched. Its mission was to explore the outer planets in our solar system, Saturn, Jupiter. These planets are quite a distance from us, it would take time, even at colossal speeds and still it is out there moving further from us. travelling at 38,000 miles per hour. Even Clarkson would be impressed by that speed, no doubt only controllable by a space stig.

The interest in the story is that the devices on the probe have now begun registering that solar winds are going sideways, the Sun's solar winds do not reach any further than the distance this probe is from us. It has reached the end of our solar system and they say it is moving into a part of the universe that links us to the rest and the solar winds of other stars. It, to me is mindblowing that after a year I was born to now it has reached the end of our solar system and heads into deep space, which even the most ardent non-scientist, non-sci fi fan must admit is a pretty spectacular event.

One of my recrruing dreams is to one day experience space, much like David Bowman in Space Odyssey 2001. I thought last night how this probe could be improved and I imagined a giant glass dome on the front of the probe allowing a panoramic view of space. I imagined behind that dome, a chair, just a solitary chair and then sat in that chair I would love to be, watching the universe open up before my very eyes. I will never see the gap between our solar system and the Heliosphere into the heliosheath and beyond into intersellar space, but and this is a huge but, I can dream of how wondrous it no doubt would appear to the human eye and I am convinced one day a human eye will see that. I'd like it to be a relation, it may well be, who knows.

I would imagine that I could not improve on the words of Dave Bowman in space Odyssey when he visits the Monolith. With such darkness around him and around the end of our solar system the sky must just be packed full of light and he said, 'Oh my God, it's full of stars'. The outer solar system is and must be the same. Shame I will never get to see it.

The Joy Of Parents

2010-12-16T23:14:00.000Z

Being a kindly soul I offered to take my mum and her partner to the garage to collect their car which had not been starting of late. We went via a big shop, so as if the car was fixed they could be dropped off to the garage and drive themselves back. Which seemed a great plan and it went well. When we arrived at the garage the mechanic said that he turned it over a few times during the day and it started first time so couldn't find a fault, he did say that if it doesn't start then ring him and he'll come up and look at the car on the drive. Now there's a good service. We transferred across their shopping bags to the boot and then they went off. I reversed and then left the garage but had to wait to turn into the road. So after a few minutes I turned into the road to drive home, happily confident they would be far away from me.

As I turned the corner and headed to the lights I then saw their little red car pulled over by the pavement in a little parking area. My immediate thought was of a little concern as maybe they were waiting for me and they'd then pull out and drive off. As I got closer to them, no, they didn't pull out at all they just stayed there. My little concern turned to thoughts of 'ah, perhaps they have broken down. I shall pull over and see if they are okay.' I pulled the car in front of them. All the while it had been snowing. I turned off the car and got out to approach them, at the same time my mum got out of their car too.

'Ah,' Mum said, 'I thought you'd stop.'

'Yes, why. What's the problem?' I asked expecting to put the shopping back into my boot and taking them to Nannars.

'Oh, no problem. Bruce stopped because he had to roll a cigarette.'

'Ah,' said, I. 'That's okay then, right. I'll carry on then, I guess, now I know you're fine'

There you go. You think the worst and hey presto. They stopped to make cigarettes and there was I worrying.

The Joy of Christmas

2010-12-13T23:31:00.000Z

There are many reasons to enjoy Christmas, some may say that one of those is the plethora of festive food that rear its head at this time of year; I am particularly fond of Christmas pudding and cake. Stollen cake for example and there is little better than a nice Yule log and as always the odd one or two, perhaps three mince pies! So, I hope I have proved that there are typical chrismassy food stuffs, sold on or around the Christmas period. Ho, Ho, Ho so to speak.

Sadly these, seen in the local shop, are probably not definable as Christmassy at all; In fact the polar opposite.

Here we have a confectionary item, called the 'Cadbury's Creme Egg'. These are egg shaped, hence the obvious name and are routinely eaten at Easter. Now I understand that businesses are suffering in this economic climate but, and this is a fairly major but, much like vanessa feltz's, it is not even Christmas day yet and they are selling easter food. You see my problem with, although I adore the creme egg, even I think this is jumping the gun a little.

Captian Oates has nothing on me.

2010-12-07T21:34:00.000Z

I decided to venture out today. I had to travel 2 miles to dig out my Nannar's driveway as we have to be able to fit a car on it this coming saturday, so I took the bull by the horns and stepped outside. It took, roughly half a mile to realise I should have caught the bus rather than walk as I took a couple of photos to stress how brave I was!

Hard to believe that I actually set out at 9:30am, the freezing mist made the place seem a little like a Narnian wonderland, except without Turkish Delight, for which I'd probably sell out my family too, but that's another issue. The main one was the exceptional cold as I wound my way out of town and headed to nannar's village.

This photo for those who know the area is called 'shoulder of Mutton Hill'. I am on kingsway road and what I am photographing here is another stretch of road, called Nuncargate road, which is the one below and runs at a right angle to this hedge, between this hedge and that road lies a field which is not overly large either. As you can see the level of visibility wasn't brilliant.

I would love to say that where I was going was just about where that cars lights are, but it isn't, there was another three quarters of a mile to go!

By the time I got there and cleared the driveway. I had become a little bored of the snow, which reminds me that at some point I need to dig out the cars.

2010-12-06T23:49:00.000Z

It got cold, up North, in fact it got so cold white stuff fell from the sky and when I say fell I mean hurtled. While it was blanketing the Northern part of the United Kingdom I ventured out and took some photographs to show what Narnia would look like if it had ever had a development of Red brick terraced housing. It got pretty deep in a few days, as you can see from the garden, the washing line just about kept its lines dry, but the bench at the back didnt and became a little submerged, it still is, this must be the second week now. It is starting to thaw slowly, mainly because our temperatures are merely flirting with 0 degrees, they haven't consummated the above freezing relationship yet. It would help if they got their act together and did so. I might then be able to dig the cars out on the street.

As you can see from the third picture, captured during a snow shower, the car is snug in its snow lined blanket. While the outbuilding door is protected by a deadly ice portcullis, which sadly will melt as it could prove an effective anti theft device in the long term.

Hopefully now that the thawing has begun we could see the last of the snow for a while at least. I have been subject to quite a few cancelled meetings and postponed football games. So I have found myself doing little by way of training, unless you count eating Stollen cake and mince pies. My wife and I have already eaten the pre-bought christmas ration of Mince pies.

Film recommendation

2010-12-06T22:24:00.001Z

If you do find yourself with a spare hour and a half and also possess the desire to watch a great film? then you can do alot worse than watch 'soldier of God'.

It may not be a fast paced thriller but it is an exceptional well made film based, more or less in a tent in a desert during the time of Saladin and the holy crusades, about an assassin (the original meaning) and a knight Templar.
I don't think you'll be too disappointed. If you like a film to ponder, obviously if your idea of a good film involves in anyway; Hugh grant or Cameron Diaz then you have my sympathy.

Oh but for the BBC

2010-12-04T16:19:00.000Z

I have been addicted to some of the brilliant classic serials that BBC radio have sent out into the world over the last year. I was transfixed by the genius adaptation of John Le Carre's Smiley series. From 'Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy', 'Honourable Schoolboy', 'Smiley's People'. What is labelled the Karla trilogy too has been a revelation with George Smiley played by Simon Russel Beale and played so well over the radio, such a voice, and well worth checking out if you happen to be snowbound, or borrow the recordings from the library and listen to them in the car, etc. Now didnt think that this could be improved on so imagine my delight when the BBC decided to adapt what I think was their best TV series, ever released, yep that's right you all know. Right now and over the next six weeks we have Radio Adapting Robert Grave's 'I, Claudius'. Having heard the first episode, it is marvellous as it always has been, classics are timeless. Yet for the I, Claudius anoraks amongst us, those who enjoy the Roman style, murdering, incestuous, orgiastic Julio-Claudian emperors Derek Jacobi, who played Claudius in the BBC TV drama, over 30 years ago, and made it famous, actually has been bought into play Augustus, who as we all know, was originally played in the TV Drama, by the one and only Brian Blessed. So we have the original Claudius, playing Augustus. A little weird to get used too!

The original 1976 'stammering' Claudius, Sir Derek Jacobi.

The 2010 production, Sir Derek Jacobi is the Emperor Augustus, Tom Goodman-Hill plays Claudius.

The joy of I, Claudius is the level of the acting and the original was packed full of the finest actors of their generation. And some of the scenes have now become legend. Here's my particular favourite;

Snow, and more snow

2010-12-03T21:41:00.000Z

Having emigrated from the deep south, almost a decade ago now. I have become acclimatised to the harsh northern winters. I define harsh as under 10 degrees. In Devon, winter was tough if it got below 15 really. As most people then slipped on a jumper over the short sleeve tee shirt and muttered, 'Damn cold winter again'. Over the last week I have experienced the Northern snow, oft mentioned in hushed tones prefixed by the sentence 'Remember when we used to get snow?' or 'Not had snow like we used to have we..' Well, it seems we have now as I pass people who seem gripped in conversions beginning, 'Not seen snow like this for 20 years.' Admittedly being a bit of a snow novice they may well mean that Snow design has changed in twenty years and we are now back to the familiar design having gone through the ubiquitous desire of God to alter and modify the design of snowflakes, proving that maybe God is guilty of breaking the 'If it ain't broke dont fix it' argument or it may well have been blue in colour, It could mean this or it may mean that we now possess more 'snow' than a Colombian drug baron's warehouse.

Proof reading in pubs

2010-11-16T21:07:00.000Z

Now, every now and again it is nice to head into a pub and have a quiet pint in honour of all the good things in the world, Real Ale is one of those. I tend not to be a lager drinker, unless its Czech. So imagine my surprise when, while walking past a local pub I spot a new type of drink!

I presume of course that it's a new style of drink. It may be that pubs are now going the route of Fast food takeaway's by offering you the ability to 'max it', here perhaps you can make your drink larger, for £2.40. I have a feeling though that this may not be the case. It seemd the case in the other window too.

The famous saying about pub lanlords, 'You don't have to be a pedant speller to work here, but it helps' seems apt right now.

Pheidippides Day

2010-11-01T22:35:00.000Z

The irony is of course that this event occurred today, over a few thousand miles away in what was then one of the most advanced collection of states. How many people know that we actually run marathons in honour of a battle, fought over 2500 years ago, which it can be argued help define our western civilisation as we know it. but to remove myth from fact, it was the Athenian army that travelled the 26 miles from Marathon back to Athens. Pheidippedes, the runner, actually travelled 140miles to Sparta to deliver the request for help against the Persians from the fledgling Athenian demokratia. So, we run in honour of the Athenians (mainly) defeating the Persian Empire and altering the course of history by proving they, the invincible Persian hordes, were in fact beatable, as they finally proved 10 years later when they were destroyed by the Spartan/Athenian army at Plataea (after the Spartans had immortalised their hoplite prowess at the 'hot gates' of Thermopylae, if you have never heard or read this story, believe me it's something you have to look into, to see the true meaning of martial prowess and human sacrifice for the greater good). And we also named a chocolate bar after it too, for those who remember the outrage when it became snickers. And they say the classics have become irrelevant.

Survived

2010-11-01T21:52:00.000Z

Okay, it hurt. It hurt pretty bad but at the end of all the pain and suffering I got my free T-shirt for running the half marathon at Worksop....No wait, I didn't get my free T-shirt at all...I got through the finish and went to get my T-shirt and was in fact told that the box of Extra large T shirts, unlike me hadn't turned up for the event. So all I got was a plastic bag and a bottle of water! This is not the point of running of course, the goody bag at the end, each event differs, but none have ever surpassed Mansfield Half marathon who after completion gave me a bag of biscuits, crisps and water and then handed me a box of 6 free range eggs??? Which if I wasn't completely shattered from racing a hilly course in 27degree heat I may have asked, why? So, I could whip up a post race omelette? The only real comparison to inappropriate post race gifts was the kilomathon this year when I was handed after a race a token to redeem my free half pint sample of real ale from the beer tent. Now, I love real ale, more so than most but after running 16 miles probably only after swimming in a vat of vinegar would I wish to quench my thirst with a glass of beer.

Well, I now know exactly where I am in my running and once I have deconstructed myself, I will know what my aims and objectives will be for winter and beyond. I have spotted a rather challenging 100mile ultra race in october 2011

I didn't even realise that it had been That long

2010-10-31T00:06:00.000+01:00

Nope...I really didn't, that's the honest answer and I was pretty surprised almost shocked by it. I am running in the Worksop half marathon tomorrow, which offers nothing but 13miles of pain. It's part of my planned running comeback, having raced the Kilomathon in March this year and struggling through that I felt I owed myself to re-discover my fitness, motivation, weight loss plan and that competitive streak that used to make me pretty unstoppable when the mind was focused. So, after a few months of training and a calorie counting diet later I am 1 stone lighter when I started training and feel comfortable I can finish a half marathon. So, I check my race history, when you are a geek you have one of this, in a spreadsheet or other form to see when I last ran a half marathon...it was September, 2006!!
My head nearly fell off, has it really been 4 years? yes, yes it has, it was Nottingham Half, timed finish at 1hr 33mins. I shall be fortunate to make it under 2hours this time around. This is not the point of Worksop, although it's still painful to live with that knowledge of a past speed. The plan is to have a good winter training and start again next year, but who knows what the forthcoming son might bring?
Just to point out that although I haven't run a half marathon in 4 years, I have run other distances, but here's the last 5 years for amusement value, from my running history of course

2005 - 2 x half Marathons
   1 x 10k
2006 - 5 x half Marathons
   1 x marathon
   2 x 10k's
2007 - 3 x Marathons
2008 - 1 x marathon
   1 x 10k
2009 - 1 x 10k

As you can see and what this highlights to me was the great year of 2006, when I was at my fastest and when the rot set in from Mid 2007 onwards when I remember having a great first marathon in Rome, in March, (my fastest still). And then it was a combination of picking up a horribly niggly injury from running Rome so fast and badly, but that's another story. And having a huge life changing year in 2007, never excuses but definite factors that seemed to stop me dead in terms of training and finding the motivation and 2008 was declining and 2009 will I hope appear always to be the nadir of my running, never to be reached again when I hardly ran and nearly gave up because I could never find my mojo or even an enjoyment of running.

2010 has been a pretty tough year all in all but the running has come back a little by little, like an old friend reminding me it's time to get back again and I have felt, over the last few months a little more like my old self, so we'll see what happens tomorrow.

Men can multi-task

2010-10-09T15:01:00.000+01:00

A challenge today as a friend of ours is coming for dinner to celebrate her completion of the Scottish Kilomathon last weekend and collecting an ebay purchase for us too. So as a treat I am experimenting on her with a nice piece of sirloin steak, with a homemade peppercorn and wholegrain mustard sauce with a red wine Jus. Homemade and roasted thick cut chips with a side of honey Carrots and mangetouts. While I am attempting this I also want to go out and view the model railway exhibiton in the town. So am preparing as much as I can now.

2010-09-27T15:00:00.000+01:00

We recently went for a 20 week scan for our new addition at the local hospital. We've been a few times before and I have only just paid to the notice that has been placed in the reception window and actually thought, really thought what it said or indeed, what it can, potentially offer. Now if the shoe was on the other foot and it was me that was pregnant then looking at this notice, I would like to be accompanied by one adult and that would be Neil Young, that would be cool. The hospital seem to promise that it's my choice.

Men are from Mars and women are from Venus!

2010-09-24T22:33:00.000+01:00

How true this is and so it was proved by the following husband and wife conversation we had this afternoon regarding the Alarm clock. First, a little background, Internet (wireless) being a little temperamental so I resorted to the classic IT solution of turning it off and plugging it back in. Though it is on a multi plug, so when the wireless goes down, so does the bedside alarm clock. When turned on it flashes the time and needs resetting. So here we go!

W(wife) = Why is the alarm flashing
M (me) = because I had to reset the internet
W = is that the right time?
M = yes, pretty much, though 5 minutes fast, as you like it.
W = well press a button on the top and it'll stop flashing

I then press a button and the radio comes on, good to hear R4 again, another story.

W = That was the wrong button
M = but you said 'a' button, I was to press any button.
W = i didn't think you'd press that one!
M = But you said, 'any' button, How was I to know you didn't want me to press that one?
W = I thought you would have known not to press that one
M = Huh?

And there's the gender difference right there, but a lovely one though!

...As previously mentioned

2010-08-01T22:25:00.000+01:00

Here are the aforementioned, world's most expensive camping chairs, in all their resplendent glory. To be fair, they are very comfortable. But for the price I would have expected, perhaps 6 years of waiter service too.

For when your nornal trousers just aren't enough for that certain moment.

2010-08-01T22:13:00.000+01:00

On our trip to discover just how much of a ridiculous amount of money we could spend on camping chairs we came across the following bargains, which to my mind should start alarm bells ringing should you decide to upgrade to the more expensive pair.

One can only imagine that when the going gets tough and ever so slightly more scary then the action trousers just arent enough and requires the added lining to get you through that more bum tingling experience. All I know is that if my wife said, we are going to do this and by the way here are some Lined Action Trousers, they would be a Tony shape in the wall as I ran away very fast.

Secret

2010-07-28T23:50:00.002+01:00

I have a new terrible secret and am not sure whether I should share it, it could embarrass my wife and she is laughing at me because of it, all for £14.99!

really struggling to get over this

2010-07-11T00:45:00.000+01:00

Surely, but surely if you were going to sell anything edible, you'd taste it first just to make sure that it was in fact a) edible and b) tasty? Just me again? Where was the quality control here? I mean, I taste the family dinner before I serve it up, admittedly in the case of my daughter who would eat almost anything this isn't really an issue. Actually, she did eat some of that cake and didn't flinch.

Cake Saga

2010-07-11T00:33:00.000+01:00

Is it morally wrong to return to a Church fete and demand a refund from the person responsible for selling the worlds worst sponge cakes? while handing them a recipe written in big felt tip, which is easily followed?

no, really.

2010-07-11T00:30:00.000+01:00

They were that bad, honestly, everyone agreed, 60p for 8. It was almost a legalised mugging.

Good cause, but really

2010-07-11T00:16:00.000+01:00

My wife found herself at a Church Fete today, at a Methodist Church next to a local shop she had gone too. Buying 6 Strawberry Jam sponge cakes. They can only be described as the worst cakes I have ever tasted! apparently they were made with Brown Flour. It's an experience I hope never to have again.

Whoa there. I may live in an ex-coalmining town, but I know my heavyweight boxers

2010-07-06T00:15:00.000+01:00

And I certainly know the brands they advertise. This ain't George Foreman. It is a George Forman grill.

This is a George Foreman, Lean, Mean, Grilling Machine. It is even advertised as such on the Price Tag. It is actually quite a good bargain. One can only assume that when at the wholesalers the buyer decided to hijack the Indian shipment, and I imagine that Sanjeev Kapoor is not a world heavyweight boxer at all. Interesting how the same product is advertised differently according to the country of sale. It now appears as a lean, mean, tandoory machine.

It did get me wondering as to how, if we'd never heard of George Foreman, we'd see this advertised in the UK and by who.

I never intended to live inside a giant Hedgehog

2010-06-30T01:22:00.000+01:00

The Winner of the RIBA award for most outstanding international work by a member of RIBA has been awarded. RIBA are the Royal Institute of British Architects. And within this group there are some stand out Architects. It is a field of art and design I have loved since I took my work experience at school working for a small architecture studio in Devon for two weeks. It seemed a wheeze to actually get paid for drawing but as it got closer to deciding what to do at University I kind of dipped out of Architecture as I wasn't convinced I had the necessary drawing talent to combine with what I can picture in my head. This has always frustrated me that I can see things in my head that I can't translate to paper. I am not without talent, but have never been satisfied with the level it's at. It's on my retirement list to remedy.
I still am fascinated by architecture and design, it gives me a cheap thrill every time I see the genius of a human mind exploring in construction and design terms buildings, objects that challenge our perception of how we fill space. The 2010 winner does this, with plenty to spare. This work was commissioned by the British Government for an Expo, so yes, all you tax payers have helped pay for this beauty, so at least sit back and admire the joy you've bought to the world. Here it is, Britains gift to China, nicknamed the 'seed Cathedral'

Beautiful, isn't? Well, I think so. It is created with 60,000 7.5metre long Aluminum rods attached to a timber framework. Obviously the rods being that length and size are pretty flexible and as the wind moves through the building the rods quiver, hence people have compared it to a sea urchin or a dandelion. So few buildings actually react to the environment in this manner it actually flows and changes almost all the time.

and the inside?

okay then, this is a photo I have found from the inside of the building itself.

As you can see for yourself. The inside is arguably even more impressive than the outside. I was reminded while looking at the photo of those images you see of people watching the northern lights. I hope you are as impressed as me.

The people responsible are here Heatherwick Studio's

Grr...Stop now, please.

2010-06-29T23:53:00.000+01:00

I live in the North. It is a land where coldness rules and is a place that the Vikings invaded often because the weather is quite Scandinavian and they like pie. A small known fact about the Vikings was their fondness for pies. But I digress. Here is a photo taken today of my alarm clock. As you can make out it also indicates the temperature. I like gadgety things, even at the level of alarm clocks, sad but true. My point is that this is kept in the shade in the bedroom, not in the garden nor on any windowsill and still it reads 25 degrees. Now I am not one to grumble through the winter begging for the sunshine to return. It always amuses me that the months of winter makes my mind blank out the whole notion that I also suffer from Hayfever during the summer. It is the saddest season as I tend to cry through it so it's probably the best time for me to watch sad films as I can disguise the tears and excuse them with the hayfever experience.
But where I do struggle is with the following combination, which I have labelled the Theakerkyrptonite formula

Pollen + Heat + Head Cold = Slow down and shut down. It really has become too much these last few days, especially when I see the temperature at 25. A little coolness will become a blessed relief to my eyes, literally. Of course, after all this heat and sun there will come a huge storm to clear the air and I am confident I will feel much better when this cold goes away.

The most underrated player at the World Cup 2010

2010-06-27T22:58:00.000+01:00

Every now and again my grandmother says something that if I was drinking tea, would make me spit it out in a bemused, comedy shock.The world cup, for those who haven't yet noticed, is in South Africa this year. While watching a game my Nannar turned to me and said, 'That player must have played yesterday, as he's being subbed again.' I replied, what? Not really paying attention at all to what she was saying, not in detail anyway. 'Who is?' I reply to which Nannar said, that man Hublot, been subbed again. Now I do know a fair bit about football and this name seemed one I wasnt aware of. Could have been Swiss or French player I thought. So I decided to pay a little more attention. At this point Nannar then said, 'oh, he's being subbed again.' Now I knew something was a little wrong here, so watched what she was looking at and it was this;

Then, the slow dawning realisation that may Nannar has confused the electronic board, used for extra time, and substitutes. Hublot is the name of the manufacturer, they are a very famous swiss watch maker, much along the same lines as Rolex timing at Wimbeldon. It now made sense why she had seen this player quite often and in many different games.

once in a while

2010-06-05T23:20:00.000+01:00

You have the fortune to come across a couple of tracks off a music album that lifts it from good to great. For those of you who are aware of the great work of the Divine Comedy then you'll understand their quirky, but wittily written songs, which can be a form of divine comedy. The new album, called 'There goes the Knighthood', and while listening to this online two tracks stood out for me as musically inspired and arguably the best songs you'll here this year as long as you don't like JLS or Cheryl Cole, because that's where the real talent lies.But if you'd like a bit of weirdo non-manufactured pop, here is complete banker!

$10bn and what happened?

2010-05-31T21:52:00.000+01:00

I can imagine the phonecall. One of the chief funders from the European Union rings the head cheese of the Large Hadron Collider, who probably goes by the name chief Proton, or something scientists find immensely funny, whereas the rest of the non-science geek world does not, for evidence of this scientist humour see here and prepare to laugh, oh yes, not just hilarious but proves why scientists really should be quite a long way under ground, away from normal people. But as we continue the story that today the Large Hadron Collider suffered a powercut. Now if I had invested $10bn in, what is essentially the worlds biggest and most complex donut I'd be expecting a pretty good explanation from those that had built it. It turns out that that part of France/Switzerland had been having some pretty bad storms. So when I am on the phone I expect that storms are a pretty good reason to tell my chief funder and I'd personally accept that.

But...reading further down the story it appears that the LHC has suffered from powercuts before, now what can you imagine stops a $10bn piece of advanced science from working, Storms, obviously. But perhaps it's also the huge amount of energy it consumes that will occasionally trip the machine out, but no, something far more advanced than this. The last power cut was and I quote

'A previous electrical cut in November 2009 which halted the machine is thought to have occurred when a bird dropped a baguette it was eating at one of the points where the mains electricity supply enters the collider from above ground.'

Yes, that's right you can cause a power cut on the most advanced piece of science the world has created by getting a pigeon to drop a french sandwich on it. Now that would be a phonecall I would like to have been privy too. Which no doubted started, 'Well, Sir. There was this pigeon and a baguette....'

every boys dream, probably...okay, mine.

2010-05-28T20:46:00.000+01:00

Every once in a while you come across a story where the spirit of adventure is strong, in this case other spirits may well have been involved, probably Vodka, would be my thought. But when as a child have you not had the thought that the day when you have a balloon and let go. While you watch ascend into the atmosphere the idea of I wish I could go up with it and look down on the world as I float away. Now, today I have Google Earth to do this for me, which makes the whole thing warmer and I can sit in my star trek chair while I fly across great vista's. Yet it takes only one ridiculously mad American to rekindle that long dead dream in the child's heart that lives within!
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/kent/10186819.stm

Facebook return

2010-03-29T22:47:00.001+01:00

In 5 days or so, by the end of the week, wonder how my farm is?

She is a little Icelandic genius

2010-03-22T23:21:00.000Z

Bjork, there is, quite frankly only one bjork. I think two would rip a hole in the Universe from the point of view of there being a little too much quirky weirdness to cope with at once. Yet she could write and sing beautifully. Been listening to WE7.com and found this is her only song on there! Still, it's one of her best. I had forgotten the Lyrics. I seem to remember at the time, there in lied the attraction of the song. This continue to proves my wifes theory that my music is inherently morbid and introspective to the point of depressive, this may be true, but the one tangible benefit is that it makes you think deeper. So here's the song and below are the lyrics.

darling stop confusing me
with your wishful thinking
hopeful enbraces
don't you understand?
i have to go through this
i belong to here where
no-one cares and no-one loves
no light no air to live in
a place called hate
the city of fear

i play dead
it stops the hurting
i play dead
and hurting stops

it's sometimes just like sleeping
curling up inside my private tortures
i nestle into pain
hug suffering
caress every ache

i play dead
it stops the hurting

Genius, is it not?

Mini Cab driving test

2010-03-22T23:10:00.000Z

I am often stunned by the level of disregard Mini Cab drivers have for the highway code. This has led me to believe that they operate to different rules to everybody else. This has been proved now with my discovery of the Mini Cab driving test paper, which I have transcribed here;

Q1: You are about to reach the address of a 'pick up' on a busy street, do you?
   a) check your mirrors, indicate and then slowly break while moving to the side of the road and gently slowing to a stop.
   b) heave on your steering wheel and pull in at an angle, only ever used by American Bunker busting missiles, ensuring enough of your back end is in the road to block one lane of traffic.

Q2: Are mirrors attached to cars for
   a) essential and important safety reasons, allowing for observations and identification of hazards
   b) watching ladies bottoms after passing them in the street

Q3: Indicators are designed for what reason?
   a) indicating to other road users your proposed alteration of direction
   b) hanging car fresheners from

Q4: Who has right of entry to a roundabout?
   a) cars approaching from the right
   b) Mini Cabs have the right of entry on all road junctions, regardless of position

Q5: Where is the best place to park?
   a) wherever parking is allowed and where safe to do so
   b) any space or surface on which I can fit my vauxhall cavalier

Q6: What are traffic wardens?
   a) enforcers of traffic regulations and laws
   b) Arch enemies of Mini Cab drivers, and worth 50 points if driven over

Q7: The brake pedal is used..?
   a) for bringing your car to a stop
   b) In emergencies only and as a last resort

Q8: Speed limits are for?
   a) maintaining the flow of traffic at reasonable speeds
   b) the challenge

Q9: The Highway code is there for?
   a) to provide rules which enable safe driving in all conditions
   b) other drivers

Q10: The mini cab code is?
   a) to be a safe, polite, courteous driver at all times
   b) do unto others before they do unto you

Yes, I know, I have an issue here.

A little motivational poster to guide you through life

2010-03-19T23:03:00.000Z

I try not to be too serious

2010-03-19T21:35:00.000Z

But sadly, this story is, frankly, heartbreaking and slightly scary on so many levels.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/8551122.stm

I do like a unique Dongle

2010-03-19T20:54:00.000Z

I have always been a fan of the memory stick. They have always been very functional and stick like. Yet, this has begun to change with designers realising that there can be more impact to a flash drive than a plastic stick gives it and here's a few of the high impact ones;

I do love the idea of Lego Flashdrives. I particularly like the idea that at some point you could perhaps build a desktop PC out of lego flashdrives

Okay, this is difficult on two levels, the first being that should you use a laptop, what is essentially a spherical object wider than your laptop means it's going to be difficult to plug in and keep your laptop flat on the desk. The other problem would be walking through Airport customs with your business documents loaded on a flash drive shaped into a hand grenade. This situation involves nothing but an unpleasant ending.

For those tree hugger's amongst you. This can only be described as Eco-genius, a wooden tree shaped flash drive. I guess you'd put your personal logs on it! (haha, you see that, trees - logs). If you were in the Army, you could call it your captains log! (geddit, star trek there). Here all week.

For the ultimate Geek, and I do tend to find myself, through no fault of my own, thrust into this arena. The ultimate flashdrive would be this;

A light saber flash drive, which can be chosen with the red, sith light or the Jedi Green. Speaking as a man who possesses a lightsabre torch, a flash drive would be a valuable and loved addition to the geek collection!

Bum, I forgot to post this one.

2010-03-14T23:04:00.000Z

Which is about bums. As a runner you do tend to find that the whole of your race is spent chasing bottoms. I would like to say that as a runner, you do also, realise fairly early on that there are so many different shapes, contours, sizes, oscillations in lycra when it comes to runners bottom (when encased in lycra pants and being subjected to the running motion, bottoms, particularly female bottoms, not being sexist here, few men wear Lyrca bottoms, tend to oscillate, like ripples across an ocean). I tend to think that my autobiography could be called 'oscillations in Lycra'. So I would like to celebrate the bottom, in all its various manifestations, I will never cease to be fascinated by runners bottom as they are like snowflakes, no two are alike. I shall not be describing my bottom, don't ask. It would make Rodin, jealous.

Finished!

2010-03-14T22:56:00.000Z

I have now, after a hot bath, recovered quite well from my exertions this morning, in the Kilomathon, a 16 mile road race from Nottingham to Derby, along with 5,700 other people. The weather, as I am British, and should as a matter of culture, discuss first, was very good, although changeable from, sun out, quite warm to cloud cover, got very, very cold. So the two t-shirt solution proved the prudent choice!

The race organisation was okay, but we still get to the point where they do not provide enough toilets for the amount of racers in the race so you stand in the queue while the race is getting its runners to the start, which as an anal, ritualistic runner, I abhor breaking my routine. Yet the bonus was that I started the race as the very last runner in the field, which a) was novel, but b) helped slow me down and not go too fast. And as they stuffed up the start I being the last runner in the field didn't start last, as our pen was released before the faster pen.

So, while taking it steady and under continual advice from my beloved's gift of a heart rate monitor, meant that I kept my heart rate between 159-165 beats per minute (who said the romance of running was dead!). This has proved a good tool to me as it means that I can judge my performance through how hard my heart works, so for instance the longer the distance the lower my heart rate needs to be to cope with the length, a marathon would be about 145-159 bpm to get me across the 26 miles, whereas I used my half marathon pace today which was 159-165 bpm. In the last 6k I raised this to around 174bpm which is my 10k race pace. It's all thoroughly helpful when trying to control not running too fast, which I was not particularly great at previously.
It worked out to be a target time of around 2hrs 30mins.

In the end, I managed a fairly comfortable 2hrs 36mins, which I was pretty satisfied about as it was my first competitive race in a year or so, and it was confortable, or as comfortable as your body can feel running 16 miles.

Onto the goody bag and medals, which is what I really for. A way to get free stuff. I am sure there is an easier way, have yet to find it!
The Medal, which my daughter, took a great interest in, as a form of food to start with then spent a lot of her afternoon, waving it in the air smiling, as though she had won it herself. I think we have discovered today a ripe seem of glory hunting/competitive spirit, we didn't know existed. She didn't even stop waving it, after she swung it into her head. It's a pretty nice medal, as amateur runners medal go.

Another to add to the box of medals I have stored in a draw somewhere. I think from memory that my Rome Marathon medal is my favourite. It is, unsurprisingly very stylish, being italian and has the she-wolf nursing romulus and remus, the mythical founders of Rome.
The goody bag was good too, nice t-shirt, bit too small for me so my wife has already declared it would fit her better, so I'll never get to see that one again. here is a photo of the goody bag contents, minus the t-shirt and the rather nice, Yazoo Strawberry milkshake, and bottle of water.

Here we have a range of stuff, from a collection of tetley tea bags, to a nut and hemp bar, I was concerned when I found an Anti-Aging moisturiser. The obligatory goody bag staple of the Nature Valley Granola Bar, which you find in every bag after every race, in the whole world. The strangest entrant, which still doesn't come close to the 6 fresh eggs received once is the Swiss Herbal tablets. I am not sure what the herbs are and am slightly concerned I should not be driving after having swallowed them or in fact, dance with the pink elephant, regardless what the laughing penguin says.

It is also a good tip to fuel yourself correctly after a race also. As an elite athlete, I advise you to healthy so you'll need nuts to eat, water, isotonic sports drink, a banana perhaps. Here is my post race fueling choice.

Here you can see I have followed my own advice. I have some Jelly Beans (beans are a natural source of fibre), a block of Bournville Orange (this equates to one a day of your fruit portions, as orange, unless I am mistaken, is a fruit) and jelly babies, these are a complex carbohydrate and also contain fruit again, so happily increase your one a day of fruit, on top of the bournville orange. We also did have an unopened packet of Hob Nobs (contain oats which is a great source of energy, think of hobnobs as to porridge what water is to steam, merely the solid state version), sadly as I finished the race, it appeared that a Hob Nob monster had descended on the packet and there was only 4 left! It was either my 10 month old daughter, who is as co-ordinated as a monkey on acid, and is not, I would argue, therefore, be be capable of opening a packet of biscuits herself, let alone not manage to bury herself and any innocent passers by under a hobnob crumb mountain, or it was my wife?

Forrest Gump begins again

2010-03-13T22:40:00.000Z

I am running tomorrow in a competitive race. I have just looked at my running history and note with horror, two points. The first is that my last competitive race was a 10 miler from Martigues to Caro, located in the south of France, in July 2008. I remember from memory it starting at 5 ish and being somewhere near 60 degrees in temperature (or so it felt while running), it may not, technically speaking, been this high. And secondly being in France and living in England, it was a long way to go to run a race! (though we have reasons to be there) I cannot say that I decided to travel 1000miles to run in a small provincial race in the south of France.

So it is almost two years since I donned the rather attractive Green/red/white striped running jersey as seen here when I was striding home in the Nottingham Full Marathon. If I could offer any advice, titled; 'Marathons you really don't want to run because they are overpriced and the course is pure garbage' the answer to this would, coincidently be, Nottingham Marathon.

Just to clarify the fact that although it looks deserted, this doesn't mean I was last. The spectators were on the other side of the course. This was from 2007 in September, when I was still a single man, though engaged at the time. I shall ignore all jokes starting, 'You obviously didn't run fast enough......'.

Like the man who falls from the bicycle I am about to get back on that bicycle, except it's not really a bicycle, it's my feet, which technically I haven't fallen off so am not in a position to get back onto. So apart from a poor metaphor I am beginning to run again. It has been a combination of many things, I think, life perhaps in general and changes in curcumstances, arguably the biggest factor has been a missing 'desire' to run. I am hoping that the last 3 months of training has rekindled this, but it's early days yet. I have though been enjoying my running of late, noticeably being able to run further and faster is always good for me. I like to see and feel visible improvement, but I also need to see it quickly to push on further.

Tomorrow may well then be an adventure from the perspective of feeling whether my heart still pumps adrenaline at the start line like it used to do. I still, vaguely remember feeling as though my legs were burning with electricity when I lined up at the start of the 2006 Snowdonia Marathon, my first and toughest marathon, and the emotion of wanting to both laugh and cry having finished the toughest marathon, but most beautiful, in under 4 hours, and not being able to do either except sit under a tree and smile like a village idiot.

Also the distance is a new one, a kilomathon, first ever to be run in the UK, 26.2km, swapping miles for Kilometres, making it 16miles long, which at 3 miles longer than a half marathon is not to be sniffed at, but not long enough to hit the 'wall' at around 20 miles. All in all, a new and exciting day tomorrow. I shall also be watched by my daughter for the first time who will no doubt recognise the philosophical importance of tomorrow, or will in fact end up chewing on her hands and jabbering to herself, like normal. Hey Ho.

I first wanted to be blasted into space but quite frankly this wins my heart, literally.

2010-03-10T22:25:00.000Z

Okay, so have you thought of the end game of what happens to the vessel when death strikes? I have, and I was quite convinced that there were 2 ways in which I would prefer to dealt with when my time comes. I have been for a fair few years now.

1 - Have my ashes blasted into space. This option has always been a favourite, if only from the point of view that at some point, in a geological time scale my ashes, based on the laws of probabilities, will converge and form an asteroid or even a planet, both options are pretty darn cool. So I can truly reside on Planet Theaker, instead of being accused of this, I will become one.

2 - The full on Viking cremation at sea. While my mortal remains sail out to sea my friends on the river bank will launch a flaming arrow into the wooden funeral pyre upon which I would lie, dressed as a Victorian dandy. There are two issues here which would need sorting, one would be to begin befriending the UK Olympic archery team and the other is finding an expanse of water capable of holding this ceremony as I don't think the romance of the situation would carry with me floating away on Kings Mill Res and getting snapped on a fishing net. I am thinking English Channel.

So, in my mind this was the choice. But then I found this link which has made the decision even harder!

http://www.nadinejarvis.com/projects/carbon_copies

I cannot imagine anything more poetic than becoming a set of 240 pencils, contained within a box where you sharpen me back into the box, making it after 240 pencils, an Urn. Practical yet also dignified. I would even have my name on the Pencil!

My wife may think I am a freak (her exact words), but this would be quite handy next to the telephone, as we use pencils for taking messages.

I would though need to know if I could specify the hardness or softness of the pencil. I for instance think of myself as at least a 3H onwards.

death, is a dream to some and a nightmare to others

2010-03-09T01:00:00.000Z

So says Merlin, the magician, in the film Excalibur.Well, we too have experienced the nightmare of this situation, in electronic form. My mobile phone, the redoubtable Samsung Omnia, has hopefully been killed temporarily. My 18month phone contract is soon due to end, and having suffered at the hands of vodafone's 1 star customer service I am leaving their network. I have decided in these tumultuous times to avoid a long 18/24 month contract and have resorted to a pay monthly SIM only deal. This will decrease my phone bill by more than half, which is great, obviously. The only drawback is that I have to continue using my Samsung, which I actually do like very much, with two small exceptions; a bizarre locking system when you are phoning from it (I see why, the designers thought, 'We need a locking system so that our customers ears cannot hang up phone calls by hitting the off button with their ear', what thought didn't go through their mind is that, if you are ringing a company who are prone to deliver their service via, 'for mobile queries, press 1, to unleash the dogs of war press 2, to allow the Americans world hegemony and arrogance beyond the Romans, press 3 (Ooops, I fell for that one once), to live in a world of fluffy bunnies and marzipan houses, press 5.

Now this is great, but with the Omnia impossible to do without actually removing the phone from your ear, press the unlock 'action' button, then pressing the keypad button, which reveals the keypad, by which time the mechanised operator, has begun the 'I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that, transferring....', not good. The other is a poor keyboard (Which I think I am verging on solving), but if you have sausage like fingers or do not have the money to have reconstructive plastic surgery to have your fingers whittled to a point, then you are stuffed. As much as I like the idea of having my fingers whittled to a point I guess, the face needs doing first. It's a bug bear.

Apart from this, it is a good phone when not dead. So thinking I could be having it for a while longer, I set about upgrading the firmware (what makes it work). Sadly this firmware (from the samsung website), didn't make it work, in fact it was like seeing the arrow go into achilles' heel. The poor little thing just sat their on the table displaying on its now black background (you see even phones grieve), 'Samsung Omnia', an expression of self awareness but no more than this, nothing. When my device died, I wanted it to go out like the ultimate device that dies in the greatest sci fi film, 2001, the HAL 9000. Machines die like this is my mind.

Singing nursery rhymes. Not mine though, it went blank, no singing, no attempting to flush me out of an airlock, nothing. At some point in my life if no one attempts to flush me out of an airlock, I may die with one disappointment, just saying.

Anyway, back to the now dead phone, cue huge Monty python skit, 'this phone is an ex-phone', 'no, it's just resting', etc, etc. I rang the Samsung helpline, hoping it would involve a visit to the nottingham repair centre, to be told, no, they don't repair software. Nope, it's a freepost job to Glasgow. Oh, how long? And he says with straight face, 28 days! 28 days? It took Nazi Germany 40 days to beat the French, how can it take 28 to fix a phone?! He did suggest that I ring up after 10 days so they could chase the engineers! I do somehow like the idea of having the power to authorise a duncan norvel chase sequence in some Glasgow industrial estate, a 1000 engineers shouting 'chase me, chase me'.

Sadly this has left me in a state of no smart phone world, having to rely on an old Nokia 6230. Which, bizarrely can't handle my twitter app. Mainly because it is a mobile phone that essential just makes and receives phone calls and texts, that's it. You could also potentially use it as a clubbing weapon if you happened to get attacked in the street, either that or they'd all laugh at you and take pity, perhaps give you a £1!

Fortunately I have an old PDA also, that is Wifi enabled, which is now being juiced up. A hp rx1900. I discovered some pretty good music on its hard drive too. bonus there. Hope my phone comes back soon!

And, Lo there was a loft floor.

2010-03-04T13:55:00.000Z

So, after what has seemed an age, I have pretty much finished one more of my 12 labours, slightly more appetizing than the one's Hercules had to undertake.

All in all, it looks a lot better than what was there previously.

I am fairly chuffed in that we also bought it in under budget and I am now contemplating what I can spend that whole £2 on? Ideas, anyone?
Of course now it'll just get stuffed full with all sorts of tat.

Transformation and change

2010-03-03T22:53:00.000Z

The project, which is called, 'the Loft' is almost complete. At least phase 1. Phase 2 requires more money and even further expansion of the loft empire, but this is another job for another day/year. Phase 1 as I have said is almost finished. I think it will be by this weekend. The budget has stretched further than anticpated, due to a wonderful local timber merchant and a couple of discount weekends at DIY stores.

I shall be posting photos at some point to show the progress which has been made. It has to be said, slow progress, as working on joists is for gymnasts, who tend to be 14 years old, Eastern European and weighing about 5stone. I can only say that I have once been 14 yrs old, and indeed 5 stones, though this was many years ago. I have never been eastern european. Work got markedly easier when there was some flooring laid, as it made moving and stretching far easier than before when one slip meant I would like some comedy show, be waggling my legs through my daughters ceiling, which I actually think she'd enjoy perhaps more than me.

I think it would make a nice view

2010-03-01T23:16:00.000Z

Though there are so many nice views. I have seen some of them. The majority of nice views or buildings I would like to see,the visual stuff lives in my head and I've never had the ability to birth them, as they should or I want them to be. I believe we are a long way from being able to express our thoughts onto a physical object, like a canvass. The idea of being able to do this fascinates me. I find the idea of being able to decorate every room in your house by projecting what you see in your minds eye onto the walls of a house instantaneously and changeable would be much fun, unless you lived with a chronic depressive, in which case you would just have to get used to whirling fog grey on every wall. When a happier soul enters the room and brings with them a sunbursting brightness, the two conflicting mental images would make for an interesting front room, but not, probably book reading. Anyway, not quite sure where that paragraph started from or will go to.

I have been playing again, with the art rage and have painted, what was in my head tonight. I quite like it and thought I'd share. Not overly sure what statement this makes in regards to my mind. Whether I am lost in the forest or aspiring to reach the fresh, crisp mountain air, or even searching for what lies beyond the white mountains (making me half hobbit?)

of course, conversely, I may well be looking back on where I have been.

quenching one thirst

2010-02-28T14:27:00.000Z

I am a thirsty person by nature, be it knowledge or hot beverage. I was particularly fond of a nice cup of tea, and my mum used to say that I could actually smell a kettle boil. Lately I have drunk more Coffee than I ever used too, not quite sure why, maybe I find it quicker to make than tea or maybe my tastes are changing. Regardless, I need a lot of beverage. Imagine my smile when I found and bought myself a new cup for tea or coffee, it seemed the answer to my prayers.

I have for scale placed my new cup against a standard tea cup and also next to our 1.7 litre Kettle. As you can judge for yourself, size would appear to be everything. Maybe I am becoming an American?