I’ve just discovered Facebook. I’d heard about it quite a lot – conversations on the train, articles in the press, stuff on various websites – but couldn’t really be bothered with Yet Another Social Network Website. I’d given MySpace a good stab, but after 6 months or so I still only had one friend, and that was only because I organised the friend invite thing via e-mail. I also don’t really like the feel of MySpace – probably a sign of my age, but I find it really hard to (a) find anyone, and (b) read anything about anyone once I’d found them.
Cue facebook.
I’ve been on for exactly one week, and I have 29 friends already – 12 or so are old contacts from London, mainly ex workmates or friends from church, some of which I’ve kept in touch with… others I hadn’t had any contact with for 5 years or more! The rest are all contacts from up here in Leeds; mainly my old job in Computing at the university, but some from Harrogate. Actually that’s not true – there are one or two fairly random contacts!
It’s really nice having a connection with those guys again. Just finding out where they are, what they’re up to; that kind of thing.
Whoops – up to 30 in the time it’s taken to write this! I love it! 🙂
have you read the book on casino royal you silly little man, you have no idea what you are talking about.
I can only assume this is a reference to this blog entry from Nov 2006, which was all about how much I disliked Casino Royale the film.
This is curious in lots of ways – as far as I can tell I don’t know the sender, yet he or she waded through (at least) 3 or 4 screenfuls of my drivel before picking up on this single entry. I can’t really believe they went straight there from Google.
It’s also the first time I’ve had a response to something I’ve written that’s not from someone I know. I don’t flatter myself that there’s anything of interest here beyond to me, and perhaps one or two friends – although I do try and put up interesting snippets of code or other information I come across, especially if it took me a long time to find it.
It’s also curious because the person accusing me of having no idea what I’m talking about (an entirely fair accusation, incidentally!) cannot themselves get the name of the book/film right.
At one level I entirely agree with the sender – I have never read a Bond novel, and from what I’ve heard Casino Royale is the most faithful interpretation yet. In fact, I believe I pointed this out in my original post. My point is that I didn’t like it, and it wasn’t the interpretation of James Bond that I’ve come to know and love over the last 30 years (or whatever).
That said, reading my post again I perhaps overstated my case, but I stand by the thrust of it!
I’ve been having a go at my bicycle, which has been merrily rusting away in the garage for the last 3 years. The chain had about seized up, and both tyres were flat – and both brake cables had a lovely orange tint.
So several days of soaking in oil and working it in didn’t help – time for a new chain, I think. But rather than do this straight away, I decided to have a good go at the seized links with a pair of pliers.. lo and behold they soon free up. A bit more oil and a bit more working and the chain is functioning perfectly. All the gears and the brakes are fine too.
Back tyre had just suffered through general seepage I think – topped it up and it’s holding the pressure nicely.
Front tyre was as flat as a pancake… Can’t remember the last time I fixed a puncture, so it felt like having to work it all about again from scratch. Somehow satisfying though. Oh, except for the fact I didn’t manage to repair it, and the tyre went flat again within a few days. Ho Hum.
One fairly major discovery was that while I was re-fitting the outer tube, I noticed it had writing on the side. “What’s this?” I think. “Inflate to 35 – 55 PSI”. 35 to 55 PSI?!?!?! That’s an enormous pressure – more than the pressure in our car tyres!! I happened to have a pressure gauge with me, so I tested the back tyre (which I’d inflated to about what I’ve always inflated tyres to).
15 PSI
So I hammered away at the pump for 5 minutes.
25 PSI
Another 5 minutes, and I’m starting to get worried the tyre will explode.
35 PSI
I’m a “middle of the range” kinda guy, so I’m aiming for 45. The tyre is already like a band of steel – I could hit it with a hammer and I think the hammer would come off worse. Another 5 minutes hard labour and it’s finally at 45.
I haven’t had the chance to test the ride, because of the front-wheel puncture, but it will be very interesting to see!
Interesting, on the way to work the next day I sauntered past a police van (one of the big riot ones), and noticed that the tyres on then should be inflated to 35 PSI!! On the other hand, an F1 car is a mere 16 PSI.
For the metric monkeys, my bicycle tyres have a pressure of just over 310 KPa.
Might have peaked too soon – just finished Half Blood Prince, which means I read all 2757 pages in 23 days, or over 120 pages a day. Guess I didn’t leave it too late! I did nearly miss my stop once or twice though, so absorbed was I.
Will have to read HBP again at the start of July, I think.
About to start my Harry Potter re-read, in preparation for book 7. There’s 122 days until it lands on my doorstep, and I have 2757 pages to read before then. That’s between 22 and 23 pages a day.
Actually I’m wondering if I might have left it a bit late!
All the “10 ways to write a blog” articles tell you that if you want your blog to be read, you have to update it regularly, ideally everyday. I’ve never been that fussed about whether or not anyone reads this – it started off as an online notepad of stuff I wanted to record, and has sort of turned into a public diary. My plan is to be able to look back at this in 20 years time and go “I can’t believe I fancied Sophia Myles” or whatever it happens to be. Not that I do fancy Sophia Myles particularly (but she is quite pleasing on the eye). Probably my only major regret in life is I don’t have a diary for between the ages of about 10 and 21. I’ve got a pretty good record of important events and people from around 18 onwards, and a spiritual journal that I started when I was 23 – but I’d love to know what I felt and thought about stuff as a teenager. I really wish I’d kept copies of the letters I wrote when I was at school.. While I know I’d die of embarrassment now (for instance, my nickname at school was “Fat Horse”, and I was known to sign letters with this moniker!!!), that was who I was then.
Anyway, my original point was that I’d never particularly held with the “10 ways to have a award-winning blog” nonsense – but I have noticed that my readership, as far as I’m aware of it, has increased infinitely since I started doing my Boston blog everyday. Actually that infinite statistic hinges on whether or not you count me as a reader – if you do then my known readership only doubled. Possibly tripled, depending on whether or not a “Happy Birthday” e-mail was in response to Friday’s efforts. It is, however, slightly disconcerting thinking someone might be reading this. I used to do radio shows when I was an undergraduate in London, and it was always highly off-putting when someone phoned it. It’s a bit like discovering a student is actually listening in a lecture: goes against the natural order, somehow. In a way I’m glad it’s a non-anonymous blog, as that’s an extra safe-guard to me writing things that I wouldn’t want to come back and bite me. I have to confess my whole approach to this blog changed when I thought I was about to become a vicar – but in retrospect I think that’s possibly one of things I was getting wrong about becoming a vicar. Trying to live by other people’s expectations, and – if I’m honest – taking myself far too seriously.
It was, of course, very easy to do an entry everyday when I actually had something to talk about (i.e. going to America, especially in such an eventful fashion). My life isn’t normally interesting enough to generate material, and because this site is non-anonymous I can’t say the usual anecdotes about friends, family, and co-workers.
Actually I did have some shocking revelation yesterday that I’m still reeling from. You ready?
Jess the cat is a HE!
Postman Pat’s black and white cat, Jess, is a bloke. Jess, a male?!?! JESS – it’s a girls name, not a boy’s name. I really can’t think of any contraction of a boy’s name that ends up as Jess. I suppose if it’s a cat, it called be called Jessop (which might be quite an amusing nod at photography, with the whole black and white thing, I suppose), but I always thought he was a she. We were harmlessly watching an episode when Julian (Pat’s son) says “Oh Jess! Mum, look what he’s done!”. I was sure I’d misheard, but no, several other people said “he” or “him” when talking about Jess.
The other thing that wound me up this week? Tony Blair’s comments as reported in the Metro on Friday:
“I don’t think anybody foresaw a situation [in Iraq] where there was this degree of violence”
I’m not a political animal, but this comment made (and still makes) my blood boil. Of course we !%%$^^% foresaw that the war on Iraq would to nothing but bloodshed and a protracted period of violence exactly like what we’re seeing. Where Bush and Blair really naive enough to believe they could waltz in with all their superior firepower and technology, and be in and out in a few months? Well apparently so. I’m not at all sad Tony Blair is going. I think a lot of good things have happened in this country under the present government, but I think our Tony has lost sight of what’s actually important, and the mandate under which he was elected.
Had lots of fun yesterday. It wasn’t the best of starts when my son bounded in at 6am and jumped onto the bed (grrrrr), but it did make us get on with the day. We packed the picnic, and then off to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park.
The YSP was good. We choose a particularly bad day to go, because all the indoor exhibitions were closed for change-over, and outside it was blooming windy – although to be fair it’s a lot windier today, and snowing, so I mustn’t complain. It only took us 45 mins to get there, and we had a good old wander around looking at the various bits and pieces on display (and occasionally wondering if things were art or just something the wind had blown there). I’m not a particularly arty person, so I was never going to spend 30 minutes analysing a piece from all angles (espcially not with a three year old in tow). My appreciation of art is more along the lines of “nice cat”, “like those colours”, “that’s odd”, as I walk past – but one thing I really appreciated about YSP is the fact you’re encouraged to interact with the pieces.
I find it much more meaningful to actually touch things – run my hand over a surface, or poke my head through a hole. In some cases to actually walk through the piece. It’s a far more authentic experience for me then, say, visiting an art gallery where you’re kept 5m from the art by a rope cordon. Much more interesting for the boy too to be able to stroke the bronze cows, or walk between a statue’s legs.
My favourite part was what I think was the Access Sculpture Trail. Here you were semi-guided along a trail, where the pieces formed part of pathway – a bridge here, a pass there, a brick tunnel, that sort of thing. It formed a really nice whole, somehow, and really felt like a journey.
We came back via Henry Moore in the Country Park – although it was rather too near lunchtime to linger at this point, and I’d only show my ignorance by not knowing what any of his work is called. Quite impressive though.
It was clearly far too windy for a picnic outdoors, so I’d removed the back seats of the car before we left. We opened up the boot and spread the rug inside, and had a very pleasant time eating our sandwiches and being buffetted by the wind, looking out over the Country Park.
We had planned to go for a swim in the afternoon, but the boy was so tired after his exertions (and 6’o’clock start!) that he feel asleep in the car, and slept for about 3 hours, which didn’t leave enough time for swimming before bed.
Birthday cake and pressies next (hooray!), then boy to bed, and we settled down to watch a film and eat pizza. Pretty much my perfect evening. Inspired by our trip to the YSP, we plumped for Art School Confidential, a film neither of us knew anything about, but with a really good cast line up (Sophia Myles, John Malkovich, Jim Broadbent, Anjelica Huston, Steve Buscemi) and written by Daniel Clowes (who also wrote Ghost World, which I really enjoyed). It was ok, as films go. Quite amusing, and an acceptable plot, but not gold by any means. The more I see Sophia Myles in, the more I like her (and let’s face it, anyone who’s been a major character in Dr Who is off to a great start). I have half a suspicion she’s a one-trick pony, but let’s see.
So a really nice day. Was really fun to do something a bit different!
It’s my 33rd birthday tomorrow. Well, technically it’s the 33rd anniversary of my one and only birth day. I’ll just stop there. In my old workplace we would have called it james++.
I’m excited about my birthday this year, for the first time in several years. I’m not a great party animal, but the last couple have been “yeah, yeah, another birthday – so what”. I don’t really know why – but they haven’t seemed worth getting worked up about. This year I’m excited though, and have been for about 2 weeks. It might to do with the little ‘un, who now understands birthdays and gets really excited about them (even when they’re not his own). It might just be because it’s on a Saturday this year, which is always nicer than having to go to work. It might just be in comparison to last year, which was our annus horribilis (or whatever the phrase is).
Anyway, going to be a fairly low key day. Planning a visit to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park in the morning. Been meaning to go forever, and birthday is as good an excuse as any other. Might take the boy swimming in the afternoon, then take-away pizza in the evening! Hoorah!
The boss informs me that a serious cold front is going to hit Yorkshire in the afternoon, and temperatures will plummet (quite possibly with rain). The BBC are forecasting snow for Tuesday. Snow!! It’s ages since we’ve had snow around Easter, although I’m sure it happened once or twice in my childhood.
Sunday is, of course, Mother’s day. Won’t say anymore on the off-chance someone who it might affect reads this between now and then. Course I only have one real Mother – but in keeping with a true 21st Century family, I also have a step-mother, a mother-in-law, and step-mother-in-law, and of course my lovely wife is the mother of our son. I’m already on far too thin ice here, so I’m going to quit while I’m ahead. Or behind. Or something.
I’ll also take this opportunity to wish you a happy St Patrick’s Day. Top o’ the mornin’ to you all.
I’m slightly ashamed to admit that I hadn’t realised that Torchwood is an anagram of Doctor Who.
If we’re on the subject of embarrassing lack of knowledge, I also didn’t realise that 3G phones use GSM for voice – which destroys my main objection to getting one (i.e. that the coverage for normal phone use would be worse than my current 2.5G phone).
