Due to my ongoing pottiness, I've decided to do Lent properly. Sort of. While not being religious but still sort of acknowledging that this is what I'm eating chocolate for.
Anyway, recording it on a seperate blog (probably an inner acknowledgement that I may want to delete this and/or it's going to be cack) which is here.
I don't understand religion, or the religious. I'm not poking fun at them even if I am facetious. I would like to understand.
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
People are people
There's a debate going on at the moment:
"Do disabled people give children nightmares?"
You did read that correctly. Sparked by complaints about new CBeebies presenter Cerrie Burnell, who has one arm. Supposedly parents have complained about her, it's "disgusting" and "gives their kids nightmares".
I have two three year olds who are somewhat addicted to CBeebies. They haven't noticed or commented. They don't care. So where does the fear come from? Oh that'd be right, the parents. The parents who say, if asked, "yes, she's only got one arm but she can do everything Alex can". Or maybe they don't? Maybe THEY say "eeeew, that's gross". Maybe it's entirely down to them what the children think because CBeebies don't make it an issue. It's the parents that clearly have a problem with looking at someone that has a disabilities, and you'd expect grown ups, or pseudo grown ups anyway, to have a little more maturity and understanding.
When I first saw Cerrie, I did wonder about her suitability, because it's a very hands on job, because I thought she wouldn't be able to do all the arty things. But I have been proved entirely wrong, she copes magnificently and it makes no difference to her presenting skills. I was however impressed at CBeebies' ongoing effort to have disabilities incorporated into programmes without making a deal. Justin Fletcher (patron saint of children's television) and his programme Something Special are magnificent for treating children with varying severities of disability with no care whatsoever to their condition, which is wonderful, it takes away the fear and "difference" and makes disabilities just one of those things in everyday life. It means that children aren't going to be taken aback when they see disabilities in their own life, it promotes understanding and is highly commendable. The fact that Cerrie's disability did not exclude her from the job of children's presenter is a Good Thing. How can it be otherwise? She can do it, brilliantly.
Here she is, with co-presenter Alex (from BBC Press Office):
She's lovely. What sort of parent can put the ideas into their children's head, and for preschoolers, the parents do have to put the ideas there, that she's anything else? Responsible parenting is the problem here, not responsible programming.
EDIT: one of my three year olds came over just now and exclaimed "Alex and Cerrie!" and insisted I made that picture full screen. No fear there.
"Do disabled people give children nightmares?"
You did read that correctly. Sparked by complaints about new CBeebies presenter Cerrie Burnell, who has one arm. Supposedly parents have complained about her, it's "disgusting" and "gives their kids nightmares".
I have two three year olds who are somewhat addicted to CBeebies. They haven't noticed or commented. They don't care. So where does the fear come from? Oh that'd be right, the parents. The parents who say, if asked, "yes, she's only got one arm but she can do everything Alex can". Or maybe they don't? Maybe THEY say "eeeew, that's gross". Maybe it's entirely down to them what the children think because CBeebies don't make it an issue. It's the parents that clearly have a problem with looking at someone that has a disabilities, and you'd expect grown ups, or pseudo grown ups anyway, to have a little more maturity and understanding.
When I first saw Cerrie, I did wonder about her suitability, because it's a very hands on job, because I thought she wouldn't be able to do all the arty things. But I have been proved entirely wrong, she copes magnificently and it makes no difference to her presenting skills. I was however impressed at CBeebies' ongoing effort to have disabilities incorporated into programmes without making a deal. Justin Fletcher (patron saint of children's television) and his programme Something Special are magnificent for treating children with varying severities of disability with no care whatsoever to their condition, which is wonderful, it takes away the fear and "difference" and makes disabilities just one of those things in everyday life. It means that children aren't going to be taken aback when they see disabilities in their own life, it promotes understanding and is highly commendable. The fact that Cerrie's disability did not exclude her from the job of children's presenter is a Good Thing. How can it be otherwise? She can do it, brilliantly.
Here she is, with co-presenter Alex (from BBC Press Office):
She's lovely. What sort of parent can put the ideas into their children's head, and for preschoolers, the parents do have to put the ideas there, that she's anything else? Responsible parenting is the problem here, not responsible programming.
EDIT: one of my three year olds came over just now and exclaimed "Alex and Cerrie!" and insisted I made that picture full screen. No fear there.
Saturday, 21 February 2009
In my head today
My eye's still broken. It was all nice and healing and working and stuff, then it just went crap again. It's worrying me a little, it's not the same (bright red, watering and unopenable) it's gone sore and dry and a bit rubbish, ie I can't see very well. So I feel the need to rant. I've forgotten everything else I thought of, so I'll go with Jade...
I have issue with Big Brother et al and the way they put borderline maniacs on TV to laugh at them being manic. That's not on. I watched a couple of series of BB and Jade Goody's was one I watched; she is largely the reason I stopped. She was put on that show to be laughed at, because she is stupid. That's not nice or clever or particularly entertaining. Graham Norton made a joke of keeping her in, which bizarrely made him into her "fan", and she emerged a cult figure. Eh? She didn't have anything to make her that, other than a seemingly continual need to mock her. But on she went, megastatus, and then the Celebrity Big Brother debacle. I didn't actually watch that, could hardly miss it, but if you put someone lacking in certain attributes on TV to laugh at them, can you really be surprised if they behave badly? Is it her fault? Did she need to be public enemy no. 1? What was she doing with all the stuff that happened next?
And now she's dying they seem determined to milk every last drop of ridicule. Maybe she does just want the best for her kids, maybe her boyfriend is romantic enough to give his girlfriend a wedding before she dies. Maybe the media created something here and they could be gracious enough to let it go. You can't blame her, she is what she is and she has been given this status. What is happening now is tragic: a young girl, who has two small children, is dying. That is nothing other than sad, whoever she is, and it is not a media circus. Oh, sorry, it IS a media circus.
I don't understand the love and admiration for people that don't do anything. Beautiful people, talented people, shrewd business people, philanthropic people, inspirational people - there's something to be admired there, but the Jades and Chanelles and Kerrys are just there, not doing anything and being a national joke. And it destroys them. Who benefits there? Comedians maybe. Max Clifford, certainly.
Love and admiration for celebrities generally: I am less than enamoured with Twitter due to the idiots that frequent it. But some people are lovely and their tweets make me smile, so I remain addicted.
I have issue with Big Brother et al and the way they put borderline maniacs on TV to laugh at them being manic. That's not on. I watched a couple of series of BB and Jade Goody's was one I watched; she is largely the reason I stopped. She was put on that show to be laughed at, because she is stupid. That's not nice or clever or particularly entertaining. Graham Norton made a joke of keeping her in, which bizarrely made him into her "fan", and she emerged a cult figure. Eh? She didn't have anything to make her that, other than a seemingly continual need to mock her. But on she went, megastatus, and then the Celebrity Big Brother debacle. I didn't actually watch that, could hardly miss it, but if you put someone lacking in certain attributes on TV to laugh at them, can you really be surprised if they behave badly? Is it her fault? Did she need to be public enemy no. 1? What was she doing with all the stuff that happened next?
And now she's dying they seem determined to milk every last drop of ridicule. Maybe she does just want the best for her kids, maybe her boyfriend is romantic enough to give his girlfriend a wedding before she dies. Maybe the media created something here and they could be gracious enough to let it go. You can't blame her, she is what she is and she has been given this status. What is happening now is tragic: a young girl, who has two small children, is dying. That is nothing other than sad, whoever she is, and it is not a media circus. Oh, sorry, it IS a media circus.
I don't understand the love and admiration for people that don't do anything. Beautiful people, talented people, shrewd business people, philanthropic people, inspirational people - there's something to be admired there, but the Jades and Chanelles and Kerrys are just there, not doing anything and being a national joke. And it destroys them. Who benefits there? Comedians maybe. Max Clifford, certainly.
Love and admiration for celebrities generally: I am less than enamoured with Twitter due to the idiots that frequent it. But some people are lovely and their tweets make me smile, so I remain addicted.
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Blank
Been a crud week so far.
Eye injury flared up on Sunday. Until today I was wearing a patch and falling over a lot.
Not fun.
The amount of stuff I have to catch up on is scaring me.
I've forgotten how to speak to people again. Extremes aren't very nice.
I've forgotten everything I know, I think, my brain is a vacuous space.
And so, my need to chatter is serviced by 140 characters and blogging is an insurmountable task.
Funk. Hyper. Funk. Drama queen moment. Back to funk.
Eye injury flared up on Sunday. Until today I was wearing a patch and falling over a lot.
Not fun.
The amount of stuff I have to catch up on is scaring me.
I've forgotten how to speak to people again. Extremes aren't very nice.
I've forgotten everything I know, I think, my brain is a vacuous space.
And so, my need to chatter is serviced by 140 characters and blogging is an insurmountable task.
Funk. Hyper. Funk. Drama queen moment. Back to funk.
Friday, 13 February 2009
To obey
I have been asked to comment on this story about Salma Hayek, telling us why she chose to fly to Sierra Leone to breastfeed another woman's baby.
This is undoubtedly an act of amazing kindness and humanity, to show that it is a natural and wonderful thing for mothers to do.
The article states that infant mortality is high in Sierra Leone, that it is recommended that mothers breastfeed for two years in order to combat malnutrition, but that there is a stigma attached to breastfeeding, so few women do this.
I started writing along the lines of my usual rant about how formula isn't actually the devil's work and how it doesn't harm your child. I believe that the western world has gone too far towards "breast is best", that those who have to use formula are left unadvised and made to feel like they have failed. That's unfair and wrong and "breast is best" does get shoved down your throat to the extent that parents feel it would be wrong to ever allow formula to pass their precious infant's lips under any circumstances. Health professionals are not allowed to offer any advice that promotes formula feeding and the whole attitude and bombardment with posters and information does implant the "formula is evil" belief. As an asthmatic, with allergies to pretty much anything I could be allergic to, that was breastfed as an infant, with a formula fed brother who has no such things, as well as being the much despised mother who gave up and didn't do the best for her babies (why they'd want my antibodies at all is another question). I feel inclined to rant. I have two very healthy three year olds and have no regrets about formula feeding them - I had no choice but would have preferred not to have been criticised.
But that is not the issue here. I live in a country where I have good hygiene, access to a kettle, a steriliser and a fridge, and a supermarket supply of good quality formula.
For most mothers, breast is best. Those who cannot breast feed, and those who have to supplement with formula should get better support, but it does remain that breastfeeding is natural and good. The WHO recommends that all infants should be fed breastmilk until at least the age of six months, ideally until the age of two, based on those countries in the world (that's the W bit, there's so much more of the world that isn't us) that have substandard conditions and so would be unlikely to have quality formula or satisfactory infant nutrition. The people in these countries need to know that it is good and natural to breastfeed, that breastmilk can help to combat malnutrition in infants, that it is a wonderfully healthy thing to do for mother and child.
An infant cries when it wants fed. It screams its little lungs out. It wants fed now. Like right now. Immediately. No, not when you get to a convenient location. Now. It screams louder. And so you have to feed them where you are (within reason). It is quite wonderful that our society now is such that a mother can sit and discreetly breastfeed a baby - and they are discreet, you'd have to go and peer behind the baby to see - without causing offence.
This is undoubtedly an act of amazing kindness and humanity, to show that it is a natural and wonderful thing for mothers to do.
The article states that infant mortality is high in Sierra Leone, that it is recommended that mothers breastfeed for two years in order to combat malnutrition, but that there is a stigma attached to breastfeeding, so few women do this.
I started writing along the lines of my usual rant about how formula isn't actually the devil's work and how it doesn't harm your child. I believe that the western world has gone too far towards "breast is best", that those who have to use formula are left unadvised and made to feel like they have failed. That's unfair and wrong and "breast is best" does get shoved down your throat to the extent that parents feel it would be wrong to ever allow formula to pass their precious infant's lips under any circumstances. Health professionals are not allowed to offer any advice that promotes formula feeding and the whole attitude and bombardment with posters and information does implant the "formula is evil" belief. As an asthmatic, with allergies to pretty much anything I could be allergic to, that was breastfed as an infant, with a formula fed brother who has no such things, as well as being the much despised mother who gave up and didn't do the best for her babies (why they'd want my antibodies at all is another question). I feel inclined to rant. I have two very healthy three year olds and have no regrets about formula feeding them - I had no choice but would have preferred not to have been criticised.
But that is not the issue here. I live in a country where I have good hygiene, access to a kettle, a steriliser and a fridge, and a supermarket supply of good quality formula.
For most mothers, breast is best. Those who cannot breast feed, and those who have to supplement with formula should get better support, but it does remain that breastfeeding is natural and good. The WHO recommends that all infants should be fed breastmilk until at least the age of six months, ideally until the age of two, based on those countries in the world (that's the W bit, there's so much more of the world that isn't us) that have substandard conditions and so would be unlikely to have quality formula or satisfactory infant nutrition. The people in these countries need to know that it is good and natural to breastfeed, that breastmilk can help to combat malnutrition in infants, that it is a wonderfully healthy thing to do for mother and child.
An infant cries when it wants fed. It screams its little lungs out. It wants fed now. Like right now. Immediately. No, not when you get to a convenient location. Now. It screams louder. And so you have to feed them where you are (within reason). It is quite wonderful that our society now is such that a mother can sit and discreetly breastfeed a baby - and they are discreet, you'd have to go and peer behind the baby to see - without causing offence.
There are those who are offended, they should be shot.
There are those mothers who make a scene and are not discreet, who make sure the whole world knows what they're doing, and who it would be nice to shoot. Grudgingly, their sort should be thanked for the fact that it's now acceptable, but can someone please tell them it's time to stop making a scene?
There are those mothers who make a scene and are not discreet, who make sure the whole world knows what they're doing, and who it would be nice to shoot. Grudgingly, their sort should be thanked for the fact that it's now acceptable, but can someone please tell them it's time to stop making a scene?
Other countries do not have that luxury, it is still a stigma. And for that reason alone, what Salma Hayek did is quite remarkable. To demonstrate that it is a good thing to do, to show that it need not be something women are uncomfortable doing.
I didn't think I was going to say that.
I meant to say that you could have flown a lot of Aptimel to Sierra Leone for one Salma Hayek.
I think formula has a number of benefits, I think formula needs to be de-demonised.I don't think wet nurses are the future, I don't think a mother that cannot produce milk should get another woman's milk. I don't think that's the answer, I think good quality formula should be made available if the mother cannot produce her own milk.
For that reason I was going to say Salma Hayek did the wrong thing.
But that isn't the point, she wasn't providing milk, she was making a statement and what a wonderful statement that is:
"Look at me, I am doing something wonderful, and it is so wonderful I will travel across the world to do it for another woman's child."
Wednesday, 11 February 2009
What is wrong with people?
When I think about the people I share this country with, I feel two emotions: shame at being British and a massive desire to leave Britain permanently.
I believe Holland is nice.
Yesterday, I was listening to a conversation between two people I respect and admire. They were discussing the Carol Thatcher/golliwog thing, laughing and reminiscing about things that we, as Brits, used to do that were appallingly racist. The comments were along the lines of "things were different then" and an underlying sentiment that is was excusable because "we didn't know any better".
No it wasn't.
Did we really need people to come along and tell us that it is wrong to call people names and that the colour of your skin doesn't make you a lesser person? Did people not feel that within themselves? Were the Crusades fine, because it was a) long ago and b) Christian? What about the acquiring of the British Empire, and the way it was run? Slavery? Was that ok... because we didn't know any different, times were different then? Nonsense. It was just not popular to actually have a shred of humanity. Some people did and had the gumption to speak out and thank god they did or we'd still be living in a nasty racist society...
Hang on. This is 21st Century Britain. We'd be appalled at using terms to describe people by colour. Nasty nasty words are stamped out. Huzzah! Thank goodness everyone was so pleased by the Eastern Europeans arriving! Imagine if we'd been prejudiced against them. Even though they weren't from the "nice" new countries, you know, the ones that used to be British.
I read responses to an article from the Daily Mail some months ago. There was the initial article, then there was the reader responses (as you'd expect) and then comments on the forum I was reading it on, responding to the whole lot.
The story: a number of Eastern Europeans (I'm not being deliberately generic, I can't remember where they came from) had come to Britain looking for work, believing that this was the best thing for them. These were people who genuinely wanted to work, who wanted to make a better lives for themselves. Yet when they arrived here, there was none of the promised work or life for them and as a result they had ended up living on a roundabout.
The overall response to this?
"Ugh, it really does make the roundabout look nasty". "I'm so glad that's not in MY town". "Who do these people think they are, coming to our country and spoiling our roundabouts?"
Hello???????????????????????????
The story there is "look how our country let these people down". Not "ugh, nasty dirty foreigners".
Yet it was OK to say these things? No one felt embarrassed?
Back to Carol Thatcher. Freedom of speech? Excuse me?
How about "I'm sorry I caused offence, I didn't mean it offensively"?
No. that's too hard. "We" can't apologise. "We" have the right to be offensive if "we" didn't mean it offensively. "We" don't need to explain. "We" don't need to retract our comments if other people are offended, clearly that's their ignorance or political beliefs clouding their judgement.
The Sachs debacle: with the vastly overhyped nonsense, at least Russell Brand used the little exercised thing called "an apology". He could still be arguing the "it was a joke, we didn't meaan any offence, I feel my freedom of speech has been compromised by the whole furore" and taken the usual stance. But he didn't, he gave a dignified, and seemingly sincere, resignation speech and, I feel, did the right thing. I believe Wossy also apologised, I must be fair, but I am a little sickened by the return of the prodigal son effort that's been going on since his return.
It never hurts to say "sorry, I didn't mean it". That doesn't necessarily excuse what you said, but it helps.
******
We're living in a nanny state now, it seems.
Evidence for this?
The government recommended that we should dance for exercise, presumably based on the slightly mystifying obsession with Strictly Come Dancing et al.
and
The government advisers, having been asked to study the effects, recommended that children should not be given any alcohol at all even at home until they are 15 because their bodies can't deal with it.
Recommendations. Not "this is how you must live your life" or "we are telling you how to bring up your children".
For God's sake!!!!!
And there's the MMR thing. Does anyone still believe that? Oh yes, they do. Thank you, hype. Thank you for directly causing the death of children to a disease that had all but been wiped out. I think I mentioned that before...
I'm done now. Please note the sarcasm and don't shoot me for being literal. Thanks.
I believe Holland is nice.
Yesterday, I was listening to a conversation between two people I respect and admire. They were discussing the Carol Thatcher/golliwog thing, laughing and reminiscing about things that we, as Brits, used to do that were appallingly racist. The comments were along the lines of "things were different then" and an underlying sentiment that is was excusable because "we didn't know any better".
No it wasn't.
Did we really need people to come along and tell us that it is wrong to call people names and that the colour of your skin doesn't make you a lesser person? Did people not feel that within themselves? Were the Crusades fine, because it was a) long ago and b) Christian? What about the acquiring of the British Empire, and the way it was run? Slavery? Was that ok... because we didn't know any different, times were different then? Nonsense. It was just not popular to actually have a shred of humanity. Some people did and had the gumption to speak out and thank god they did or we'd still be living in a nasty racist society...
Hang on. This is 21st Century Britain. We'd be appalled at using terms to describe people by colour. Nasty nasty words are stamped out. Huzzah! Thank goodness everyone was so pleased by the Eastern Europeans arriving! Imagine if we'd been prejudiced against them. Even though they weren't from the "nice" new countries, you know, the ones that used to be British.
I read responses to an article from the Daily Mail some months ago. There was the initial article, then there was the reader responses (as you'd expect) and then comments on the forum I was reading it on, responding to the whole lot.
The story: a number of Eastern Europeans (I'm not being deliberately generic, I can't remember where they came from) had come to Britain looking for work, believing that this was the best thing for them. These were people who genuinely wanted to work, who wanted to make a better lives for themselves. Yet when they arrived here, there was none of the promised work or life for them and as a result they had ended up living on a roundabout.
The overall response to this?
"Ugh, it really does make the roundabout look nasty". "I'm so glad that's not in MY town". "Who do these people think they are, coming to our country and spoiling our roundabouts?"
Hello???????????????????????????
The story there is "look how our country let these people down". Not "ugh, nasty dirty foreigners".
Yet it was OK to say these things? No one felt embarrassed?
Back to Carol Thatcher. Freedom of speech? Excuse me?
How about "I'm sorry I caused offence, I didn't mean it offensively"?
No. that's too hard. "We" can't apologise. "We" have the right to be offensive if "we" didn't mean it offensively. "We" don't need to explain. "We" don't need to retract our comments if other people are offended, clearly that's their ignorance or political beliefs clouding their judgement.
The Sachs debacle: with the vastly overhyped nonsense, at least Russell Brand used the little exercised thing called "an apology". He could still be arguing the "it was a joke, we didn't meaan any offence, I feel my freedom of speech has been compromised by the whole furore" and taken the usual stance. But he didn't, he gave a dignified, and seemingly sincere, resignation speech and, I feel, did the right thing. I believe Wossy also apologised, I must be fair, but I am a little sickened by the return of the prodigal son effort that's been going on since his return.
It never hurts to say "sorry, I didn't mean it". That doesn't necessarily excuse what you said, but it helps.
******
We're living in a nanny state now, it seems.
Evidence for this?
The government recommended that we should dance for exercise, presumably based on the slightly mystifying obsession with Strictly Come Dancing et al.
and
The government advisers, having been asked to study the effects, recommended that children should not be given any alcohol at all even at home until they are 15 because their bodies can't deal with it.
Recommendations. Not "this is how you must live your life" or "we are telling you how to bring up your children".
For God's sake!!!!!
And there's the MMR thing. Does anyone still believe that? Oh yes, they do. Thank you, hype. Thank you for directly causing the death of children to a disease that had all but been wiped out. I think I mentioned that before...
I'm done now. Please note the sarcasm and don't shoot me for being literal. Thanks.
Monday, 9 February 2009
Everyone should read this
This sums up the MMR debacle rather well. And this is from the man himself.
Please click on those, they're ever so important to read.
It is unbelievable that measles is on the increase and that parents STILL have doubt; as previously stated I had a fleeting, well, what if... There is no link with autism, there never has been and measles is dangerous. What more do you need to know?
This is a hero: bookmark Ben Goldacre's webhome.
Please click on those, they're ever so important to read.
It is unbelievable that measles is on the increase and that parents STILL have doubt; as previously stated I had a fleeting, well, what if... There is no link with autism, there never has been and measles is dangerous. What more do you need to know?
This is a hero: bookmark Ben Goldacre's webhome.
Freak out!
I've been doing rather a lot of that lately: freaking out. For no particular good reason, just overreacting and getting irate. So getting constantly wound up by a pair of naughty three year olds renders me shrieky. The last couple of days it's hurt to shriek. In the chest area.
Immediate hypochondriac diagnosis: heart attack.
This is unlikely give that a) I'm 34 and b) it is unaccompanied by any other symptoms of the heart attack. No, my left arm is not sore, it's got pins and needles because I'm leaning on it.
Logical thought: in people that have a heart attack, there must be increased blood flow etc that causes a heart attack in times of stress and getting very shrieky. Presumably this always happens and only ends in a heart attack in those susceptible. So it's normal. Just overstressed.
Illogical thought: waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I'm definitely going to die! I know people who've just dropped dead of a heart attack that were younger than me and not 100% definitely on drugs. My boys need a mother! I have nightmares about dying anyway!
I think I might go and chat to the nice nurse about methods of destressing. And nursery starts in 10 weeks. (I had the date wrong before, blimmin' Easter's late this year, isn't it?)
Deep breaths. Have an aspirin. Just in case. Eat nothing but bulgar wheat. Just in case.
Immediate hypochondriac diagnosis: heart attack.
This is unlikely give that a) I'm 34 and b) it is unaccompanied by any other symptoms of the heart attack. No, my left arm is not sore, it's got pins and needles because I'm leaning on it.
Logical thought: in people that have a heart attack, there must be increased blood flow etc that causes a heart attack in times of stress and getting very shrieky. Presumably this always happens and only ends in a heart attack in those susceptible. So it's normal. Just overstressed.
Illogical thought: waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I'm definitely going to die! I know people who've just dropped dead of a heart attack that were younger than me and not 100% definitely on drugs. My boys need a mother! I have nightmares about dying anyway!
I think I might go and chat to the nice nurse about methods of destressing. And nursery starts in 10 weeks. (I had the date wrong before, blimmin' Easter's late this year, isn't it?)
Deep breaths. Have an aspirin. Just in case. Eat nothing but bulgar wheat. Just in case.
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Why it's preferable to be a hermit
The world's gone mad.
No.
That's incorrect.
The world is mad.
Either that or I'm mad.
Hmm.
No.
That's incorrect.
The world is mad.
Either that or I'm mad.
Hmm.
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
Rising grumpitude
I appear to have lost the art of talking to people without shouting at them.
I'M IN A BAD MOOD, OK?
See?
Sigh. It's just because they're rubbish. It's not because I'm grumpy. No. It's not.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M GRUMPY????
No. Don't get upset. I know it wasn't you. I didn't mean to shout. Oh. Don't cry. I feel bad. I'm just in a bad mood you know.
I AM NOT ALWAYS IN A BAD MOOD!
Ok, ok, I'm going now.
I'M IN A BAD MOOD, OK?
See?
Sigh. It's just because they're rubbish. It's not because I'm grumpy. No. It's not.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M GRUMPY????
No. Don't get upset. I know it wasn't you. I didn't mean to shout. Oh. Don't cry. I feel bad. I'm just in a bad mood you know.
I AM NOT ALWAYS IN A BAD MOOD!
Ok, ok, I'm going now.
Monday, 2 February 2009
25 random meme things
This is from facebook and most of it is stuff I go on about here anyway.
But I'm in a crabbit mood and so can't be bothered doing more than pasting. The tagging thing (25 people? 25?) doesn't apply obviously. It's facebook. Mindless. Easy. Me me me me me me me me. Feel free to do it. You won't though.
25 random facts about me:
1. I know that all of the 25 people I tagged won't like this. I'd like to know facts about all of them though.
2. My children are actually the cleverest in the world.
3. I really enjoy learning about traffic related things. Traffic policy is interesting and virtually everything I learn I become passionate about. Even traffic lights.
4. I cannot stand Boris Johnson. He's a bumbling oaf.
5. I think Marcus Brigstocke is the most attractive man on the planet.
6. I'm a mostly rubbish friend and any time I speak to one of them I am ashamed by how rubbish I've been. I don't mean it, I love all my friends but I don't think they know it.
7. I am incapable of budgeting.
8. My brain does still work and so far I'm coping with an MSc on woefully little work.
9. I am very worried that no 8 does not apply any more.
10. I am at my most alert at midnight.
11. I would like to live in Manchester.
12. I'd quite like a little girl but seriously don't think I could go through it all again.
13. My hair is excessively grey, or it was till I coloured it last night.
14. I don't have any concrete goals in my life. I'm not sure what I'm aiming for. I never have. I have rough ideas but I don't actually know what to wish for other than immediate "pass exams" etc.
15. My house has been on the market for one year this week. Never mind.
16. I am completely addicted to the internet and social networking.
17. My children are very polite and are a credit to me (mostly) when we're out. They drive me nuts but they're ever so nice and they're a lot of fun to be around. I feel lucky to be around them all the time. I don't feel lucky all the time. I should.
18. I think we should all cycle everywhere where it's possible.
19. I don't have a bike.
20. I can be cured a hangover by Irn Bru and iceberg lettuce.
21. I should never ever drink red wine.
22. Seemingly by coincidence, I got into Twitter the same week everyone else did. I joined a year ago.
23. I like to talk a lot. I love being on my own as well though, with the kids around all day, it's valuable time. Usually it's going to Asda, but hey, it's alone time.
24. I am going out in ten minutes and the kids aren't ready. Will be late. Am always late.
was true at 4.49
25. Yahtzee is my favourite waste of time just now.
But I'm in a crabbit mood and so can't be bothered doing more than pasting. The tagging thing (25 people? 25?) doesn't apply obviously. It's facebook. Mindless. Easy. Me me me me me me me me. Feel free to do it. You won't though.
25 random facts about me:
1. I know that all of the 25 people I tagged won't like this. I'd like to know facts about all of them though.
2. My children are actually the cleverest in the world.
3. I really enjoy learning about traffic related things. Traffic policy is interesting and virtually everything I learn I become passionate about. Even traffic lights.
4. I cannot stand Boris Johnson. He's a bumbling oaf.
5. I think Marcus Brigstocke is the most attractive man on the planet.
6. I'm a mostly rubbish friend and any time I speak to one of them I am ashamed by how rubbish I've been. I don't mean it, I love all my friends but I don't think they know it.
7. I am incapable of budgeting.
8. My brain does still work and so far I'm coping with an MSc on woefully little work.
9. I am very worried that no 8 does not apply any more.
10. I am at my most alert at midnight.
11. I would like to live in Manchester.
12. I'd quite like a little girl but seriously don't think I could go through it all again.
13. My hair is excessively grey, or it was till I coloured it last night.
14. I don't have any concrete goals in my life. I'm not sure what I'm aiming for. I never have. I have rough ideas but I don't actually know what to wish for other than immediate "pass exams" etc.
15. My house has been on the market for one year this week. Never mind.
16. I am completely addicted to the internet and social networking.
17. My children are very polite and are a credit to me (mostly) when we're out. They drive me nuts but they're ever so nice and they're a lot of fun to be around. I feel lucky to be around them all the time. I don't feel lucky all the time. I should.
18. I think we should all cycle everywhere where it's possible.
19. I don't have a bike.
20. I can be cured a hangover by Irn Bru and iceberg lettuce.
21. I should never ever drink red wine.
22. Seemingly by coincidence, I got into Twitter the same week everyone else did. I joined a year ago.
23. I like to talk a lot. I love being on my own as well though, with the kids around all day, it's valuable time. Usually it's going to Asda, but hey, it's alone time.
24. I am going out in ten minutes and the kids aren't ready. Will be late. Am always late.
was true at 4.49
25. Yahtzee is my favourite waste of time just now.
Twitterific
To be entirely boring: Twitter and iPhone. Tune out now.
Twitter is amusing me lots. For some reason everyone I asked to join, did. Maybe because I didn't ask everyone-I-know and asked the ones that possibly might be interested in my updates. Just the one missing, who will be returning to normal life tomorrow and will hopefully comply.
Richard Herring joined hours after I suggested he did on his guestbook. This may be complete coincidence, but if it is true, then how marvellous is the internet? To be able to say "hey you, this is great, try it" to someone who has no idea who you are, someone who you'd like to read about, and they do. Not because it's you*, obviously, but because it's a cool thing.
Twitter is amusing me lots. For some reason everyone I asked to join, did. Maybe because I didn't ask everyone-I-know and asked the ones that possibly might be interested in my updates. Just the one missing, who will be returning to normal life tomorrow and will hopefully comply.
Richard Herring joined hours after I suggested he did on his guestbook. This may be complete coincidence, but if it is true, then how marvellous is the internet? To be able to say "hey you, this is great, try it" to someone who has no idea who you are, someone who you'd like to read about, and they do. Not because it's you*, obviously, but because it's a cool thing.
*delusional daydreaming aside
There's all manner of other stalkerworthy people on there and I am reminded of how amusing Chris Addison (the second most attractive man on the planet), Dave Gorman and Stephen Fry (the patron saint of Twitter) actually are. And then I added people I don't actually normally think about, like Phillip Schofield (who's very interesting and I had nothing against him, just didn't think about him) and Jonathan Ross (who I may delete, he's a bit annoying, which is always is, slight error of judgement). Ben Goldacre (new hero) has interesting little snippets.
It's a bit strange, like blogging lite. But it's sort of the opposite of stalking, those who wish to be stalked provide the information so the stalkers can legitimately read it. Which is a little weird really. But hey. Look at me getting all giddy over some celebrity tweeting. They're not ACTUALLY talking to me, I'm just reading it.
Of course there's the lovely thing of updates from friends. Always nice. And more important than the above starry eyed awe would indicate.
Come play. Click the link over there and join the mindlessness. There is no point, that's the point.
Daily iPhone love: I got Tweetie for it. I did. I'm so sad. I paid £1.79 for it, but oh it is nice. And while I was throwing money at Apple, I downloaded Yahtzee Adventures. I love Yahtzee. I actually wore out the section of the screen on my Palm where the "roll again" button was (this is why you want a screen that functions like the iPhone or G1, not like the B****b***y or any other W****** mobile device). It's ace. I could play Yahtzee forever and this has a bizarro adventure mode. Best game ever (that doesn't feature Mario).
Gratuitous picture of Chris Addison:
There's all manner of other stalkerworthy people on there and I am reminded of how amusing Chris Addison (the second most attractive man on the planet), Dave Gorman and Stephen Fry (the patron saint of Twitter) actually are. And then I added people I don't actually normally think about, like Phillip Schofield (who's very interesting and I had nothing against him, just didn't think about him) and Jonathan Ross (who I may delete, he's a bit annoying, which is always is, slight error of judgement). Ben Goldacre (new hero) has interesting little snippets.
It's a bit strange, like blogging lite. But it's sort of the opposite of stalking, those who wish to be stalked provide the information so the stalkers can legitimately read it. Which is a little weird really. But hey. Look at me getting all giddy over some celebrity tweeting. They're not ACTUALLY talking to me, I'm just reading it.
Of course there's the lovely thing of updates from friends. Always nice. And more important than the above starry eyed awe would indicate.
Come play. Click the link over there and join the mindlessness. There is no point, that's the point.
Daily iPhone love: I got Tweetie for it. I did. I'm so sad. I paid £1.79 for it, but oh it is nice. And while I was throwing money at Apple, I downloaded Yahtzee Adventures. I love Yahtzee. I actually wore out the section of the screen on my Palm where the "roll again" button was (this is why you want a screen that functions like the iPhone or G1, not like the B****b***y or any other W****** mobile device). It's ace. I could play Yahtzee forever and this has a bizarro adventure mode. Best game ever (that doesn't feature Mario).
Gratuitous picture of Chris Addison:
NB Still reading Bye Bye Balham by Richard Herring. It's great. Buy it from here . While you're at it, buy this from Amazon, it's fabulous.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
I went for a walk on a winter's day
So Mort waltzes into the room, quite the thing, unfound by me.
Where was he? asks I.
In the washing basket. comes the reply.
The washing basket? The one that's right beside the bed? The first place I looked, as a logical landing place for something falling off the bed? The one I looked under and around 25 times?
Oh yes.
I can only assume that Mort was unwilling to be read and went out. No other explanation.
At 2pm there was copious amounts of broken glass in the park. A result of Friday night teenage japes no doubt, but how appalling that it remained on Saturday afternoon. What exactly do the council do? The park is used on a Saturday almost exclusively at this time of year by families and dogwalkers. Both children and dogs could be seriously hurt by broken glass. Seriously unimpressed.
Watched Dark Knight at a friend's house and then solved the mystery of relationships. A late-ish night, driving out of a village and lightedness, was amazed that the full beam sign coincided exactly with the time I put my full beam on.
Thought process:
How could they know?
Duh, it's the end of the village, everyone will put full beam on there.
But what about during the day, or if there's other cars?
Wait a minute.
That's not a full beam sign.
It's the national speed limit sign.
Probably shouldn't be driving.
And that, as they say, was chutney.
Where was he? asks I.
In the washing basket. comes the reply.
The washing basket? The one that's right beside the bed? The first place I looked, as a logical landing place for something falling off the bed? The one I looked under and around 25 times?
Oh yes.
I can only assume that Mort was unwilling to be read and went out. No other explanation.
At 2pm there was copious amounts of broken glass in the park. A result of Friday night teenage japes no doubt, but how appalling that it remained on Saturday afternoon. What exactly do the council do? The park is used on a Saturday almost exclusively at this time of year by families and dogwalkers. Both children and dogs could be seriously hurt by broken glass. Seriously unimpressed.
Watched Dark Knight at a friend's house and then solved the mystery of relationships. A late-ish night, driving out of a village and lightedness, was amazed that the full beam sign coincided exactly with the time I put my full beam on.
Thought process:
How could they know?
Duh, it's the end of the village, everyone will put full beam on there.
But what about during the day, or if there's other cars?
Wait a minute.
That's not a full beam sign.
It's the national speed limit sign.
Probably shouldn't be driving.
And that, as they say, was chutney.
Saturday, 31 January 2009
Thwarted
New reading plan: book 1 of 43 or so.
FAIL.
Such goodness in not opening the new arrival books. Such enjoyment of the book (Mort). Such despair at the fact that it has Vanished. Off. The. Face. Of. The. Earth.
I checked the usual places: under the bed, down the back of the sofa, left on a table somewhere etc.
No joy.
I checked the unusual places: inside a cupboard, on top of the toilet, inside the washing basket etc.
No joy.
I thought carefully when I last had it. Either 4am when ambitiously thinking I could recognise words while my son was awake and needing cuddled or at about 9am when I was ambitiously thinking I was awake enough to recognise words after very little sleep. Either way, I've put it down in a state of almost asleepness and thus it could theoretically be anywhere. And if it is anywhere, it could have been found by little people, so it could really be anywhere.
I obsessed. I moved everything. I checked the bookcase a thousand times, it might have been put back. I checked the books I sorted out to go away today a hundred times.
I've looked (roughly, it's icky) in the bin. I've had the sofa out, I've searched through every pile of stuff (house is kinda sorted, looks a bit like a bomb landed).
Now I'm at the stage where I have a flash of inspiration and think "ah yes! if I had been on my way to such and such, it would be THERE..." but to no avail. And each time I walk past anything, I check it for a book. I've found so many books. Not it. Not Mort. I was really enjoying it as well, I was ceasing to be at all scared of Death and was getting right into it. But the new one-at-a-time rule decrees that I cannot read another book at the same time. So either I read nothing till Mort comes home, or I start another book and cast Mort aside even should he return. He would have to wait till the next one was finished.
So be it. Mort will be a later book to read. Sigh. And so onward, with Bye Bye Balham, by the very lovely Mr Herring (it was under the bed, which was why I hadn't gone to it already as promised in a previous bloggery. And I started it before, I just got distracted, so it's not a whole book to read. Mort will not have to wait long for Richard to finish, I'm sure. This tangent is getting odd.)
I have found my hedgehog though, I lost it briefly in the mayhem, but he came out on top. Hurrah for Hedgehog the hedgehog.
FAIL.
Such goodness in not opening the new arrival books. Such enjoyment of the book (Mort). Such despair at the fact that it has Vanished. Off. The. Face. Of. The. Earth.
I checked the usual places: under the bed, down the back of the sofa, left on a table somewhere etc.
No joy.
I checked the unusual places: inside a cupboard, on top of the toilet, inside the washing basket etc.
No joy.
I thought carefully when I last had it. Either 4am when ambitiously thinking I could recognise words while my son was awake and needing cuddled or at about 9am when I was ambitiously thinking I was awake enough to recognise words after very little sleep. Either way, I've put it down in a state of almost asleepness and thus it could theoretically be anywhere. And if it is anywhere, it could have been found by little people, so it could really be anywhere.
I obsessed. I moved everything. I checked the bookcase a thousand times, it might have been put back. I checked the books I sorted out to go away today a hundred times.
I've looked (roughly, it's icky) in the bin. I've had the sofa out, I've searched through every pile of stuff (house is kinda sorted, looks a bit like a bomb landed).
Now I'm at the stage where I have a flash of inspiration and think "ah yes! if I had been on my way to such and such, it would be THERE..." but to no avail. And each time I walk past anything, I check it for a book. I've found so many books. Not it. Not Mort. I was really enjoying it as well, I was ceasing to be at all scared of Death and was getting right into it. But the new one-at-a-time rule decrees that I cannot read another book at the same time. So either I read nothing till Mort comes home, or I start another book and cast Mort aside even should he return. He would have to wait till the next one was finished.
So be it. Mort will be a later book to read. Sigh. And so onward, with Bye Bye Balham, by the very lovely Mr Herring (it was under the bed, which was why I hadn't gone to it already as promised in a previous bloggery. And I started it before, I just got distracted, so it's not a whole book to read. Mort will not have to wait long for Richard to finish, I'm sure. This tangent is getting odd.)
I have found my hedgehog though, I lost it briefly in the mayhem, but he came out on top. Hurrah for Hedgehog the hedgehog.
Friday, 30 January 2009
Twitter while you work
I'm giving this Twitter thing a go. Almost a year ago, I was asked to join Twitter, which I did, and thought "it doesn't do anything".
However, someone whose opinion is worthy on account of their non-fluffiness has convinced me to give it a go. Or to be precise, she suggested that those who don't get Twitter are dorks. I don't want to be a dork!!
In answer to the question, "why?" I was told: "it's like chatting to the whole world".
Well. That's enough for me. I like chatting, it doesn't need to be at anyone specific. The fact that I don't DO anything is neither here nor there, and that I will be likely to put "eating lunch" or "going to Sainsburys" is quite, quite irrelevant.
Oooh. Synchronicity. Type into Twitter, update here (see right) and Facebook as if by magic. Supreme laziness. Huzzah. Button on home screen, off we go. New addiction ahoy. Ooh, hello, I can put a button to ANY website on my home screen (on the phone)? I can? Oh, that's so much better than bookmarks, I LIKE buttons. Ooh. Ooh.
Right. Now I need to see who I can stalk, no, follow...
However, someone whose opinion is worthy on account of their non-fluffiness has convinced me to give it a go. Or to be precise, she suggested that those who don't get Twitter are dorks. I don't want to be a dork!!
In answer to the question, "why?" I was told: "it's like chatting to the whole world".
Well. That's enough for me. I like chatting, it doesn't need to be at anyone specific. The fact that I don't DO anything is neither here nor there, and that I will be likely to put "eating lunch" or "going to Sainsburys" is quite, quite irrelevant.
Oooh. Synchronicity. Type into Twitter, update here (see right) and Facebook as if by magic. Supreme laziness. Huzzah. Button on home screen, off we go. New addiction ahoy. Ooh, hello, I can put a button to ANY website on my home screen (on the phone)? I can? Oh, that's so much better than bookmarks, I LIKE buttons. Ooh. Ooh.
Right. Now I need to see who I can stalk, no, follow...
Thursday, 29 January 2009
A pictorial day
We are thrilled to announce the safe arrival of a precious little bundle.
Mother and child are both well, following a routine postal delivery.
This amused me, for obvious reasons.
I'm not tagging it, for obvious reasons.
I wonder if they know?
They can't. I wonder if anyone will ever tell them? They couldn't.
Whilst in Kinghorn, which is where that is, I went down to the beach, for it is one of my favourites:
If you lived in one of these houses...
And so to "my" beach, not visited today, but must be noted amongst others. Pathhead beach in Kirkcaldy, in the shadows of the ruins of Ravenscraig Castle, across the road from where I lived for many years, and so where many's a tear was shed and decision was made.
Mother and child are both well, following a routine postal delivery.
This amused me, for obvious reasons.I'm not tagging it, for obvious reasons.
I wonder if they know?
They can't. I wonder if anyone will ever tell them? They couldn't.
Whilst in Kinghorn, which is where that is, I went down to the beach, for it is one of my favourites:
If you lived in one of these houses...
And so to "my" beach, not visited today, but must be noted amongst others. Pathhead beach in Kirkcaldy, in the shadows of the ruins of Ravenscraig Castle, across the road from where I lived for many years, and so where many's a tear was shed and decision was made.
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
Thoughts of the day, brought to you by Kenco
Shameless is quite probably the best thing ever. I love Frank. Every episode has me sighing in a way that would be tearful if I cried like a normal person, and laughing like a lunatic repeatedly.
I am the only person in the world (assuming "the world" is the same as "my inbox") who thinks kisses are superior to hugs.
The perfect number of layers of filo pastry is 2, and it should always be folded not scrunched. Olive oil may be easier than butter to put between the layers, but it doesn't taste so good.
My sense of humour has left home but didn't tell me, I carried on as normal. Bah.
It is two months, 3 weeks and 1 day until my children start nursery. I am sure the fact that I just worked that out makes me a bad mother.
It's not even the end of January yet and I've done every single one of the things I wasn't going to do this year. Positivity, having been welcomed back as the prodigal emotion, sneaked out one morning at 3am just before the exams and is now feared to be lost forever in the wilderness of gah. Feeling: superfluous.
I'm still reading Mort. I got scared on page 21. I need to read through the fear before I even try to go to sleep.
Where's Heroes gone?
I am the only person in the world (assuming "the world" is the same as "my inbox") who thinks kisses are superior to hugs.
The perfect number of layers of filo pastry is 2, and it should always be folded not scrunched. Olive oil may be easier than butter to put between the layers, but it doesn't taste so good.
My sense of humour has left home but didn't tell me, I carried on as normal. Bah.
It is two months, 3 weeks and 1 day until my children start nursery. I am sure the fact that I just worked that out makes me a bad mother.
It's not even the end of January yet and I've done every single one of the things I wasn't going to do this year. Positivity, having been welcomed back as the prodigal emotion, sneaked out one morning at 3am just before the exams and is now feared to be lost forever in the wilderness of gah. Feeling: superfluous.
I'm still reading Mort. I got scared on page 21. I need to read through the fear before I even try to go to sleep.
Where's Heroes gone?
Tuesday, 27 January 2009
Goodliness and the art of miscommunication
Being goodly:
My books arrived today. "Professor Stewart's Cabinet of Mathematical Curiosities" by Ian Stewart and "Bad Science" by Ben Goldacre. I sooooooo want to read both of them immediately, one is about mathsy things and problems (and by Ian Stewart who is fabulously fabulous) and the other is about ranting and mentions the 'MMR hoax' on the back cover. Oh yes!
I get so angry any time I THINK about the MMR thing; it is appalling that such a furore was allowed to happen and I was furious that when my children came to get theirs, I had a moment of "should I...?" when of COURSE I should, there is NO LINK and it was WRONG but the furore was such to put doubt in the mind of all mothers. Even one who disbelieves everything and is supposedly educated in such things. Grrr. I may have mentioned this, it's one of those "ready, steady, RANT" subjects.
So, a whole book of rants like that (not like that rant, rants on subjects such as that. I'm guessing Mr Goldacre rants more eloquently than I).
Bring it on! And other things I don't usually say!
But look. She is goodly. She hasn't opened either book yet.
I am continuing to read Mort by Terry Pratchett. I am on page 17 (I don't get much chance to read, ok? I'm going to crack on once I'm done ranting) and so far... not put off or scared out of my tiny mind. I am not casting it aside for no crime other than not being the book I've taken a fancy to reading. I will stick to One Book at a Time. I will!
The art of miscommunication:
This internet lark is frustrating most of the time. Mostly because it is populated (not entirely) by idiots, and lotsly because sarcasm isn't immediately apparent when unaccompanied by facial expressions and intonation. If it wasn't for encountering splendidly splendid people (virtually all of whom love* either Andrew Collins or Bernard Butler) in amongst the waves of vacousness, I would be packing up my fingers and flouncing offline.
I have been reading with interest the debate sparked by Richard Herring's declaration of love* for his iPhone.
We have la:
I may be grown, but I am not a man, I do have a family, and I love* both the iPhone and Richard Herring, I cannot remain silent. And so I posted this, in which I forgot everything I know about the English language:
Not expecting this as a reply:
So I conclude from this:
1) I'm not very funny
2) Sarcasm not apparent
or
3) People, like Darren, are stupid
and regardless
4) I'm not very nice
It is also apparent, due to my renewed love* for Mr H, that loving* an iPhone is quite enough to pull someone. If you're Richard Herring**. And you're not actually pulling someone because they're married and you're attached. And that someone is someone like me. But y'know, in (quite) different circumstances.
*love: possible overenthusiastic term. Muchos admiration of.
**he has other attributes.
My books arrived today. "Professor Stewart's Cabinet of Mathematical Curiosities" by Ian Stewart and "Bad Science" by Ben Goldacre. I sooooooo want to read both of them immediately, one is about mathsy things and problems (and by Ian Stewart who is fabulously fabulous) and the other is about ranting and mentions the 'MMR hoax' on the back cover. Oh yes!
I get so angry any time I THINK about the MMR thing; it is appalling that such a furore was allowed to happen and I was furious that when my children came to get theirs, I had a moment of "should I...?" when of COURSE I should, there is NO LINK and it was WRONG but the furore was such to put doubt in the mind of all mothers. Even one who disbelieves everything and is supposedly educated in such things. Grrr. I may have mentioned this, it's one of those "ready, steady, RANT" subjects.
So, a whole book of rants like that (not like that rant, rants on subjects such as that. I'm guessing Mr Goldacre rants more eloquently than I).
Bring it on! And other things I don't usually say!
But look. She is goodly. She hasn't opened either book yet.
I am continuing to read Mort by Terry Pratchett. I am on page 17 (I don't get much chance to read, ok? I'm going to crack on once I'm done ranting) and so far... not put off or scared out of my tiny mind. I am not casting it aside for no crime other than not being the book I've taken a fancy to reading. I will stick to One Book at a Time. I will!
NB: my love* for Andrew Collins endures (terribly terrible taste in music aside),
even though I've switched to the "other side" all round. I'm fickle, but not totally fickle.
even though I've switched to the "other side" all round. I'm fickle, but not totally fickle.
The art of miscommunication:
This internet lark is frustrating most of the time. Mostly because it is populated (not entirely) by idiots, and lotsly because sarcasm isn't immediately apparent when unaccompanied by facial expressions and intonation. If it wasn't for encountering splendidly splendid people (virtually all of whom love* either Andrew Collins or Bernard Butler) in amongst the waves of vacousness, I would be packing up my fingers and flouncing offline.
I have been reading with interest the debate sparked by Richard Herring's declaration of love* for his iPhone.
We have la:
Subject: Re: iPhone [ REPLY ]
Posted by: JJ on 26/Jan/09On 26/Jan/09, angrygadgetphobe wrote:
> Right, that's it. If he posts one more thing about his fecking iPhone I'm taking a hiatus from reading this blog. I had enough of it from Stephen Fry in 2007 (http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2007/nov/10/iphone1).
>
> You can find out about any song just by playing it to your phone. I can (somehow) figure out how to make my food budget of just £15 last over 5 days. They're both admirable processes. One is of zero interest to somebody who collects 5ps of the street to feed a meter.
>
> I don't care about the phone. I care about the people you meet and the gigs that you do and daft things that happen.
>
>Am I alone in thinking that iPhones were invented so that grown men without families have something to spend their money on?
I may be grown, but I am not a man, I do have a family, and I love* both the iPhone and Richard Herring, I cannot remain silent. And so I posted this, in which I forgot everything I know about the English language:
Subject: iSmug [ REPLY ]
Posted by: MD on 27/Jan/09Interestingly the iPhone doesn't actually DO anything, it's all a Emperor's New Clothes thing and none of us are prepared to admit that we've been duped. It's pyramid selling thing though, we have to get other people to buy it to recoup our losses.
Incidentally, please don't review or indeed refer anything in London, I can't afford to go so find it exclusive. If I'm not interested, I think it safe to say: no one is.
Not expecting this as a reply:
Subject: Re: iSmug [ REPLY ]
Posted by: Darren on 27/Jan/09 Bloody hell, there's been a few posts in the last few days criticising Warming Up, which I find ridiculous.
Rich doesn't give a shit what we think of his blog, and I hope it stays that way. Unlike his stand-up, or the podcasts, it's not here for our entertainment, it's here to help him write. Even if he writes a load of balls on some days, sometimes it's the rubbish that can lead to something better.
>>Quoting moi, just to make sure that it was clear what he was referring to.
Give me the strength to tolerate fools...
So I conclude from this:
1) I'm not very funny
2) Sarcasm not apparent
or
3) People, like Darren, are stupid
and regardless
4) I'm not very nice
It is also apparent, due to my renewed love* for Mr H, that loving* an iPhone is quite enough to pull someone. If you're Richard Herring**. And you're not actually pulling someone because they're married and you're attached. And that someone is someone like me. But y'know, in (quite) different circumstances.
*love: possible overenthusiastic term. Muchos admiration of.
**he has other attributes.
Monday, 26 January 2009
Lost in Berkshire
Today I joined myself and my children to the library. I have no idea why I hadn't done this long since, but I hadn't, and today I did. I love libraries, full of books and quietness. And I can now take up to 45 books out at any one time. The possibilities make me tingle with anticipation of all the books I can order online! How good is that? Like Amazon,but free!! They didn't do that when I last was a member of a library. Which was at least 6 years ago, fool that I am.
I didn't take any books for myself out though, just some for the kids. Why? Because I have 40 odd books on my bookshelves that I own, some gifts, most bought by me. Books that I want to read. That I have read some of and given up on. That are by some of my most favourite authors. Two I don't yet own, by Ben Goldacre and Ian Stewart, but they're in the post and so will be read, probably first.
I didn't take any books for myself out though, just some for the kids. Why? Because I have 40 odd books on my bookshelves that I own, some gifts, most bought by me. Books that I want to read. That I have read some of and given up on. That are by some of my most favourite authors. Two I don't yet own, by Ben Goldacre and Ian Stewart, but they're in the post and so will be read, probably first.
Now, an exercise in humility: I have posted this list on this blog. Right below the latest post. There, look, down there. Fascinating stuff, huh? It's a mix of stuff that I haven't read yet, some I have started and not got into but not disliked, some I haven't opened, some I loved and just got distracted. Jasper Fforde's in there! Three of them!!!!!!!! Don't ask me why. Derron Brown, Mark Watson, John Humphrys, Val McDermid - all brilliant. Andrew Collins? No, I don't understand THAT one at all. There's nothing I dislike, I purged myself of all of those in one of my many book sorteries of the last year. They are in the order I saw them in, which is no order whatsoever, other than putting an author's work together.
The reason for posting this is not that I expect anyone to have any interest, but because I feel that by putting it on the public domain I may feel compelled to try and dent the list rather than just ploughing through the entire chart section of the supermarkets endlessly while making the list longer. Although some of the list is chart stuff, I'm not in the least bit elitist about what I give up on.
The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who cannot read them.
Mark Twain
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
