The Redwelly letters

Salvaging the cliff-wrecked car

2006-08-02T23:41:00.000+01:00

Salvaging the cliff-wrecked car
Originally uploaded by redwelly.

Several weeks ago I heard the news-cum-hearsay that a car had been pushed off Consti. Apparently a Ford dealership had been broken into and five cars systematically joy-ridden and returned, before this Mondeo was taken to the top of Constitution Hill and pushed over the edge.

Despite a couple of half-hearted attempts to see the remains, I never spotted more than a piece of non-descript bumper on the cliffs.

But this evening the sound of a helicopter was heard, flying very low around the beach area. Natrally the response is to run outside with one's camera handy.

The insurance company (we suppose) has at last hired a helicopter salvage firm to remove the car wreckage from the base of the cliffs. So there, for all (around fifty more curious souls on the windswept prom) to see, was a curiously beautiful sight: A brand new, never-been-owned car, reduced by the sea to a bundle of rust, dangling forlornly below a small helicopter, over the beach of Aberystwyth.

It's still there (as of 11pm). Any takers?

He is not here...

2006-04-20T18:49:00.000+01:00

He has risen.

This depends on whether you consider changing from Blogger to Wordpress to be an improvement. You'd be a bit silly not to really.

What this really means, to anyone who's still none the wiser, is that I have a new blog, getting towards being fully integrated into redwelly. From now on you can read it there.

In other words: click here to go to my blog in future.

If you have 'favourites' bookmarks to this blog, please update them.

Thank you.

Bank holiday

2006-04-17T21:29:00.000+01:00

View on Flickr

As it was bank holiday monday, I resisted the urge to do some DIY about the house. Instead I went for a walk around my local area. It seemed bright and sunny at about 9am this morning, but was fairly cloudy most of the day, which made it feel less warm.

Still, I found this interesting biological feature.

Back to the grindstone tomorrow... trying to get some work done!

The Road Goes Ever On

2006-04-11T00:26:00.000+01:00

The Road Goes Ever On
Originally uploaded by redwelly.

Give or take a few days, it has now been one single, rounded, whole year since I first posted on this blog.

Over the course of the year I seem to have significantly toned down the flowery prose, and slackened off from the flowery pictures too. I have not monitored the traffic too closely, but seem to get a fairly steady flow of about 30 hits per week. And I know who you are... mostly.

This photo was from the beginning of my return trip, unicycling back across Exmoor from Lee Abbey to Bath. The ride down on Monday was a great strain, and at 107 miles, is also my longest one-day-ride... with devastatingly frequent hills towards the end.

It inspired my first ever hitch-hiking experience, on concluding that I just couldn't trudge any further up this last(ish) hill into Lynton. A very nice man with a large estate car took me the half mile or so up to Lynton, and all ended well.

For the return trip I decided not to foolishly try to avoid the coastal hills, at the expense of all the other inland hills, so I went via Porlock and Minehead. It seemed vastly easier, and turned out to be only 93 miles too.

In between silly unicycle rides, I had a very pleasant couple of days visiting Tim, seeing Lee Abbey people/places and doing a spot of Celebrity Worship Leader Ogling with Stuart Townend.

Public Notice: There should be no sudden jolts, but you'd better fasten your seatbelts just in case. I have, at long last, got around to registering my own web hosting. Thus I can now install a 'proper' WordPress blogging solution website. For now at least, you shouldn't feel a thing...

So far, so good...

2006-04-03T20:11:00.000+01:00

To keep you updated (don't worry, I won't be doing this every day), I have so far achieved four of my points. They are numbered for reference, rather than priority.

Number 5 - There is some evidence of spring, notably blossom on trees. I took a few photos of this, and scarcely need a list to tell me to take some more.

Number 13 - I got some rather worryingly grown up brown leather shoes, on sale. After a brief walk to the post box (see point 17), I haven't become convinced that they are the most comfortable ever, but hopefully I will get used to them.

Number 18 - last night it was on deserts. Very interesting. The bedrock of the program's graphic appeal seems to be new time-lapse steadying techniques - some incredible panning time-lapse sequences.

Number 12 - While I was in the shoe shop, working on number 13, a couple of lads with outlandishly 'alternative' styles came in, and excitedly examined the range of pink Converse Allstars trainers. The combination of blonde mop hair, ripped jeans and huge brown 'aviator' sunglasses was enough already! One of them turned out to be Dave, from school. He said his band, Oedipus (yes indeed) are playing in town on Saturday, which would be an ideal chance to bump into (perhaps literally) my old friends. Ace!

Number 17 - After buying a bottle of Quink (that's ink with added je-ne-ce-'qu'), I did this point just after last post today. D'oh! The sealing wax also stayed a-flame on the envelope for a while, so I hope it didn't damage the letter inside. My handwriting looks both surprisingly 'old fashioned', and less neat than usual. Very nice using a dip pen though.

Other points which have had progress on them are 14 - I bought a train ticket, 4 - I got four small canvasses and 19 - see the above post!

Things to do this holiday

2006-04-02T14:32:00.000+01:00

I have now got three weeks stretching out before me, all termable 'vacation'. There are also many things which I wish to do during these weeks. Some I will do, some I will do in part, while there are sure to be some which I do not do.

Here are some of the things which I will try to do...

Complete my programming assignment before the end of the time allowed.
Read through my notes and the lecture slides for my modules which will be examined.
Set up a website which I can publicise to offer prints of my best photos and paintings for sale.
Produce three or more new paintings.
Take some good photos with my new (to me) second-hand old film camera.
Write a post on this blog once a week or more.
Write a post on this blog entitled "Seventeen Things Which My Portable Telephone Device Does Not Do".
Write up an illustrated account of our epic cycle ride of six months ago.
Sleep a reasonable amount.
Unicycle an excessive amount, preferably 100 miles per week.
Achieve the '100 miles in 10 hours on 1 wheel' unicycle challenge.
Meet some of my school friends which I have not seen since 6th Form.
Buy some shoes which do not make my feet wetter than the ground on which they walk.
Perform as a drummer in a rock band in a distant town.
Appreciate the meaning of life more than previously.
Write lyrics for a song.
Write a letter to the one I love, using a dipping ink pen and sealed with red sealing wax.
Watch an entire episode of the beautiful BBC's Planet Earth program.
Spend less of my time thinking about 'things I will do some day when I have time', and do them.

Nineteen things. That should keep me busy for a bit.

Now, as it's sunny and bright outside, I am going to start on number five, progressively nineteen, and possibly fifteen.

Why should men be allowed to be ordained?

2006-03-30T17:12:00.000+01:00

Top Ten Reasons Why Men Should Not Be Ordained.

10. A man's place is in the army.
9. For men who have children, their duties might distract them from the responsibilities of being a parent.
8. Their physical build indicates that men are more suited to tasks such as chopping down trees and wrestling mountain lions. It would be "unnatural" for them to do other forms of work.
7. Man was created before woman. It is therefore obvious that man was a prototype. Thus, they represent an experiment, rather than the crowning achievement of creation.
6. Men are too emotional to be priests or pastors. This is easily demonstrated by their conduct at football games and watching basketball tournaments.
5. Some men are handsome; they will distract women worshipers.
4. To be ordained pastor is to nurture the congregation. But this is not a traditional male role. Rather, throughout history, women have been considered to be not only more skilled than men at nurturing, but also more frequently attracted to it. This makes them the obvious choice for ordination.
3. Men are overly prone to violence. No really manly man wants to settle disputes by any means other than by fighting about it. Thus, they would be poor role models, as well as being dangerously unstable in positions of leadership.
2. Men can still be involved in church activities, even without being ordained. They can sweep paths, repair the church roof, and maybe even lead the singing on Father's Day. By confining themselves to such traditional male roles, they can still be vitally important in the life of the Church.
1. In the New Testament account, the person who betrayed Jesus was a man. Thus, his lack of faith and ensuing punishment stands as a symbol of the subordinated position that all men should take.

I found this on Dave's blog (though cannot now find how), where I think he was linking it to maggie dawn's blog, but I have followed it as far as here so far.

Ordained women having wit, wisdom and insight...? Who'd have thought it?

And two posts on my blog in one day. You can tell I have a computing assignment to do urgently, can't you?

For those who may not know, I am in fact a Computer Science student. That means that in exceptional circumstances, when the wind is in the right direction and the moon is full, I am forced (by institutional and societal obligation) to do computing work.

Note: this post may contain the following: irony, satire, sarcasm, hyperbole and/or rubbish. This is usually the case.

Walk...

2006-03-30T13:54:00.000+01:00

Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

Slightly larger elucidation at its source.

I'm stuck somewhere in the whole quandary between the merits of expanding one's horizons, experiencing as much as possible of this wonderful world and preventing a dangerously introspective 'the-world-within-our-borders' view... and the blindingly obvious chronic effects of aeroplanes.

They are cheap. And being cheap is (or should be) never a good enough reason for anything. But then we always have limits.
They are fast. But also having/doing everything fast is eroding our life, making us less appreciative of anything, let alone anything we have to go to greater effort to achieve. But we only have so many opportunities.
They are exciting! Yes, well, nothing wrong with that. Does augment the dismissal of the problems though.
...etc

With all this talk of aeroplane pollution, and having a rough figure of cars being a tenth of the emmisions (despite trains being something like a tenth of that again), I feel slightly more willing to think about learning to drive. Doesn't mean I don't still cultivate occasional dreams of a [insert clean fuel here] powered Morris Minor for journeys when walking, cycling or trains are not options.

University Challenge

2006-03-24T12:06:00.000Z

It was only as a matter of chance... or 'Aberystwyth Chance'... that we went. I heard of this thing to come up with a team in the Union that evening. Not wanting to go alone, I thought Alun would be a likely compatriot. Sadly I couldn't get through to him, and as it was that evening, it was off. So I went to Somerfield.

So did Alun. He produced a flyer for the same thing, and we left Somerfield, headed up to the Union and spent the rest of the evening having a rather pleasant free quiz.

Did I say rather pleasant? I meant extremely competitive, highly charged show-down of the heaving mass of the best brains Aberystwyth intelligentsia can muster... at least 400 of them.

The questions flew. Page references to encyclopoedieas were spouted, entire lists of chemical elements were recounted, ancient philosophers were quoted...

Any or all of the above information may or may not be correct. I may or may not be on the shortlist of the 'Aberystwyth Aces'. Alun may or may not be an extremely humble and/or unique person (Don't read that last comment Alun). The university may or may not yet be proud of its student caliber. The Aberystwyth team may or may not be knocked out in the first level of pre-show selection.

So many unknowns.

Loosing my focus

2006-03-21T11:48:00.000Z

This weekend I went off to live in a barn on a sheep farm in distant Wales. It was very nice. The reason for this was it being 'Lad's Weekend' with my church. Jonny and I cycled to 36 miles there, and then back again on Sunday afternoon.

We had a good time without the influences of girls, CU or work... all of which were rather refreshing.

The point of my wonderfully puntastic title to this post, is that I managed to poke my manual 35mm camera into funtionality on Friday, and used it all weekend. It had been lying dormant since January when the mirror got stuck and wouldn't take photos (a weakness in most cameras).

Finally, after deciding to give it a forceful prod, it got unstuck and seemed to click up and down happily enough to be worth trying again. I had a slight concern that the mirror doesn't quite go down fully any more, which may mean that the 'image' on which one targets the focus through the view finder is not quite the same as the one which the film gets exposed to. But it was worth a try.

Today I got back my photos from Jessops, and I am now the ambivalent owner of 36 pieces of brightly coloured smudgy paper. A few of them could be classed as 'arty', a couple almost show what they were meant to, but in most cases they are more instruments towards experience.

I'll scan some of them later to show you. Oh, I also got my black and white film developed, which was half way though when the above problems started. It was nice that they hadn't got destroyed in the process. They were quite good (and wonderfully sharply in focus), and importantly included the few I took of my Grandad.

Cistern Trinity

2006-03-16T22:15:00.000Z

Cistern Trinity
Originally uploaded by redwelly.

I haven't put any of my photos on here for a while, so here we are. This is also a rare indulgence of mine into the world where 'art' is meant to be deep and meaningful.

Meditate. Derive the meaning which strikes a chord with you.

And a prize for anyone who can tell me where this is.

A mug for anything

2006-03-11T21:16:00.000Z

As a brief aside from pondering the merits of international corporations and watching rather exciting flashy animations of world development statistics on the UNDP website, I thought I'd add another doodle to my online arsenal.

An essay? Good heavens.

2006-03-08T16:53:00.000Z

To the surprise of some (in fact, almost all who have had the pleasure of hearing me claim it), I don't think that I have ever had occasion to write an essay before. Certainly not an actual, academic document with referenced research and formulated cognition.

But I'm writing one now.

The essay is for the Third World International Politics module which I am taking as a break from Computer Science (my degree subject), and to increase my general learning. I've chosen the essay on underdevelopment and capitalism.

If my usage of vocabulary has become a bit odder than usual, it may be something to do with my use of Dictionary.com and Thesurus.com to increase the impresivitude of my writing.

So far I've got in the words 'propounded' and 'multifarious'. I'm hurtling towards having a significant part of the introduction completed.

I have until next Wednesday, 15 March. If you have any words you think I should include, do let me know. sam ( at ) redwelly dot co dott uk.

Data mining

2006-02-18T11:23:00.000Z

Radio Luxembourg

2006-02-12T00:45:00.000Z

After enduring two sets of drivel at increasing volume from hairy student types with guitars... occasionally verging into hip-hop, played in Welsh, by white boys on guitars. After that, and as the bar seemed full beyond capacity at the sweaty end, Radio Luxembourg appeared.

Everyone seemed tuned to their frequency. Sadly not knowing Welsh, or their songs, meant that when the tall, skinny, Dennis-the-Menace jumper wearing frontman declared something in a Welsh Valleys accent so wide you could set up Ben Herrick's entire drum kit in it, the Welsh student crowd get mysteriously euphoric.

But no one needs to know the words to tap feet, nod heads or generally get their groove on in a reasonable and non-excessive way to the hummable tunes and bouncing rhythms.

And who wouldn't have a good time when you can raise your fist and shout in unison "pwer, pwer, pwer... y fflwer!!". A rough translation may be "power, power, power of flowers".

That buzzing sounds as we walked home... is that... Radio Luxembourg?

Excuse me, do you mind if I rebel for a moment?

2006-02-07T10:33:00.000Z

So while it is fasionable to have controvertial religious cartoons in one's media, I'll add to it.

"Where there is a bandwagon, there the bloggers will gather"... as Jesus never quite said.

I once had a t-shirt with "More quiche, Vicar?" printed on it. I still have the t-shirt, but the printing has worn off. The above cartoon seems to hit a slightly different vein.

Aside: I wonder if the concept of The GospelBlog has been done yet? Surely someone must have tried to get inside the mind of the Apostle John, as if he were given a Blackberry wireless device in first century Israel?

In other news, the wannabe yeti that is CompSci lecturer Richard Shipman seems to have had the slightest of trims on his beard. He seems to have enough confidence in his own universal superiority not to worry about anti-beard sensibilities though.

Adrian and the Magical Morning

2006-01-22T13:18:00.000Z

I got up early today, with the intention of doing some extra revision before church. I had a good walk in the crisp air, and then managed to not do any revision before leaving for church. I did not think much would happen, but going to church is a good part of the week, and I am pleased to go even when it seems quite mundane.

As I got to the door, a student whom I had not seen before shook my hand and said "hi, now, I'm going to need your help to get through this".

Ok, I'm intrigued.

We stop just inside, as people are milling about, chatting. Drawing no attention. He introduces himself as Adrian. I say that I am Sam. He tells me of his mission. He is not a Christian, but has come to church as someone suggested it. He's made a New Year's Resolution to say "yes" to things people ask him to. And furthermore, to introduce himself to as many people as possible, to encourage them to give him things to say yes to.

I have not got further than the cover, but this idea is based on a book, which sounds like it may be interesting. By that man who tried to set up his own country on BBC2.

So I introduced Adrian to some people after church. It was possibly one of the most fun things which has happened to me at 11am on a Sunday morning.

As I said in the title of this post, it seemed a little bit magical. Like something which happens in films. I'm just grateful that it happened to be me who got randomly involved in this piece of Interesting Life.

A nice cup of TEA

2006-01-16T13:34:00.000Z

A perusal of the BBC News showed me the encouraging progress from the Church of England's current difficulty with women being bishops.

The proposal for compromise and making sure everyone is happy and having a nice time seems to be a very wise one. TEA.

This seems to stand for Transferred Episcopal Arrangements, amounting to having ever-so-slightly magical 'flying bishops'. If your parish gets upset at the idea of a person... who wears a dress and a funny hat and has more ornamental jewelry than most... should be a woman, they can ask to have a man in a dress instead to come to do some of the more tricky bits of liturgy.

But I'm sure that as long as tea is a central method in the Church of England, things can't go too far wrong.

Some time ago, Dave Walker of CartoonChurch.com blog had this insightful analysis of the potential problems of Women with mitres.

The Internet knows everything. Discuss.

2006-01-11T13:32:00.000Z

http://blog.outer-court.com/prejudice/

A map of the world, with what The Internet, according to Google, thinks are stereotypes of each nation. Achieved by searching Google for " is known for", and documenting the top results. Cunning.

So, is this what the whole world thinks of each other? That "Sweden is known for..." Austerity, drinking coffee and carving Viking longboats? That "Bolivia is known for..." lack of understanding and impunctuality?

Perhaps. It could also be that this is what the English-speaking, computer-literate, internet-posting world thinks of each country.

Facinating.

Counting down the days

2006-01-07T19:37:00.000Z

If (like me) you still haven't exhausted your annual desire for calendars, but fear that all that is left in the shops is less appealing than "2006 in Braille", "Corporate policy documents of 2006" or "The year ahead, Britney's behind", all is not lost!

Dave Walker has again published, completely free, his Cartoon calendar for you to print out yourself.

I'm not sure if it is quite as funny as last year's, but it may be because I've seen most of the cartoons in it already. The orange juice instructional month was particularly effective, and has actually changed my life. In a small way.

N.B. Since I wrote my previous post about Flickr, I have become one of a sad breed who log in regularly to check the latest 'views' count and 'comments'* which people may have made on my pictures. Feel free to have a good look through my photos, and comment on ones which interest you for any reason.

I continue to upload my more arty and interesting photos from the vast vat of old ones on my computer, in the hope that I may, some day, achieve the "Explore Interesting Photos" page which Flickr compiles every day. I don't know how they calculate it, but it seems like a reasonable life ambition.

* Here seems as good a place as any to say that, while leafing through the Wesley Owen catalogue, among the range of Marketable Christian Products**, Joyce Meyer's book, 'Approval Addiction' (presumably how this is not a good thing), was noted as "climbing to #2 in the charts". Irony on a stick, anyone?

** Seriously now, am I too cynical for my own good? But seeing the cover advertising yet another Matt Redman product milking the "Blessed be your name" title, set me off feeling like virtually everything in the WO brochure is glossy Christianity - just enough humility to be trendy, but not so much as to hinder the sales or upset anyone enough to really change lifestyles.

Flickr Flickr Flickr

2006-01-04T21:40:00.000Z

In the last few days I have returned to the wonderful thing that is Flickr. After being re-inspired to publish online some of my photos, and not having the botheredness to write my own gallery software, I'm filling my Flickr account with more and more stuff.

I don't know how they manage to pay for hosting it, as there are few adverts and vast numbers of users, but it seems very good so far.

It also has that Funky-Trendy-Cool feature of providing a 'feed' of thumbnails for your website, so I have plastered redwelly in them, as a cheap and cheerful way of bringing some life into an otherwise rather dead page.

So woo for Flickr, and woo for interesting photos. Here are mine.

Public announcement: panic buy ice-axes!

2005-12-27T13:35:00.000Z

Picture from www.IamTonyang.com Not in England.

I think this opening paragraph in a BBC news article sums it up:

Forecasters say Kent could get the worst of the snow, with up to 10cm expected in some places.

This is an article with the words "heavy blizzard" in the headline.

Oh, how smashingly British. Or should I even say English? For the Scots and the Welsh have mountains. They also have snow which, when it is barely deep enough to bury a tin of emergency food stocks, is not called a blizzard.

And why is the most snow described as the 'worst' thing? Unless you are a slave to your car, which is so pathetically British that a thick enough frost can have it out of commission, or (reasonably) are a decrepit elderly person likely to slip, what makes piles of cold, white, wonder coating the world a bad thing?

I'd love some snow please. As much as possible.

Yes, this is a photo. Click for more...

Lions, Witches and Wardrobes

2005-12-24T00:30:00.000Z

<* Here is a brief epitaph to the long, insightful and well-researched blog post which I wrote about the current Disney version of CS Lewis' story. Sadly the browser crashed, and Blogger.com fails to provide an auto-save feature yet. *>

Narnia, as it's branded for ease of Franchisation (spot the cynic... it's not too hard really), seems to be off on the right foot.

I thought it was rather good.

How's that for a succinct review? OK, you want more? Lucy was very good. Mr Beaver was amusingly cockney ("blimey!", "Aslan's the top geezer"). The White Witch actress is quirkily named after a curly punctuation mark (Tilda ~ ); the same punctuation mark about which I wrote a Limerick once. The spiritual significance is more than amply intact. Thanks to Disney for not making me vomit, cry (with frustration at least) or simmer with resentment.

Thanks also for making me appreciate my King a little bit more.

UFOs in Covent Garden

2005-12-22T01:27:00.000Z

This was one of the various interesting and festive sights to which I was treated while spending a few days in London (pronounced 'Laan-dun') with Poppy and friends. Alighting gently in a corner of a courtyard, just around the corner from the buskers and extravagantly priced mulled wine, was what seemed very much like a UFO of some sort.

And with churlish reference to Rolf Harris' new royal portrait... "can you guess what it is yet?"

An expedition to go to see the famed Oxford Street lights was largely disapointing. In its original intention at least. The Oxford Street and Regent Street lights this year are nothing worth writing home about. Nothing, in fact, even worth writing in a blog about. But there we go... blogging is almost an inherently unnatural and irrational activity.

Change of address

2005-12-15T11:12:00.000Z

Shortly, my address will change from A house in IPR of Aberystwyth, to A Seat (hopefully, unless gentlemanly behaviour requires relinquishing a seat to any disabled, elderly, pregnant, Asian, lesbian members of the House of Lords... or indeed anyone more needing of it than myself) on a Train of unknown Operator.

This will facilitate my leaving the little, simmering, hot-pot of pre-revolutionary content that is the (soon to be, I'm sure of it...) Independent People's Republic of Aberystwyth.

As I type, the murmurings of my heart, sighing quietly at having to leave such a glorious and wonderful town are drowned, seemingly with rocks tied to their ankles, by the wailings of a singing lesson next door. You Lift Me Up seems to be being sung with a tortured emphasis, to imply that the lyrics go:

You lift me up
With hooks through both my eye-lids
You lift me up
To stand on burning coals
I'm in pain, when I have punctured shoulders
You lift me up
To more pain, I must flee

I had better run, before they get on to My Heart Will Go On.

And for a little Advent cheer... I warmly reccommend the Advent Calendar Cartoon Blog.

Fly, you fools!

2005-12-13T04:31:00.000Z

Which is more disquieting? That someone would produce such models of pigeons and their flight patterns, in wireframe gifs... or that I would be finding them at 4:30am?

When the depths of night find you searching the internet for pictures of pigeons, you know you must be onto something.

I want to fly away...

Pognographic trends across denominations

2005-12-12T18:09:00.000Z

Yes, you can read that 'Po*nographic' word again.

A graphical guide to beards of the church.

If anyone could explain to me how 'grace' is implemented, I'll be grateful.

Signs of the times

2005-11-28T12:32:00.000Z

A new breed of post-modern signs are appearing in Britain.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/in_pictures/4470516.stm

What Aberystwyth students are up to at dawn

2005-11-26T19:32:00.000Z

Students in some parts of the world may sleep in for as long as possible. Some may get up after noon if they can. But Aberystwyth is not like many places in the world.

This was before 8am on a Saturday. The fellow in the photograph, Chris, had been up and about since the sprightly hour of 6am. He, Harry and I made the accent of the towering peak of Pen Dinas while still the clutches of night were tight about us.

Near the summit the ice-axes which we brought in a flurry of excess seemed less and less inappropriate, and we finally managed to reach the top by canter-levering the rope around the monument at the top with a cow on the other end, to haul us up.

It was a little chillier than might have been expected, and the pressure in my gas burner was a mite lower than expected. As such, the litre of water to make tea took half an hour to become Reasonably Warm. Anyone who has made tea will know that a really good cuppa requires the water to be rather above Reasonably Warm.

It was a good laugh though, and an incredible view of a perfectly clear horizon.

The rest of the day was spent with Poppy, investigating the Land of Hills and Sheep that is the murky area south of Aberystwyth, marked on most maps as "Here Be Dragons". Luckily we had an OS. They don't descend to such frivolity.

The following sunset was of equal, if not greater impressivitude, drenching the entire westward side of the coastline in golden-orange light.

After that long day, I went and slept for 13 hours. Rock and Roll.

Putting the 'brrr' into 'Ah-brrr-ystwyth'

2005-11-15T23:00:00.000Z

Short of having anything more pointful to say, I'll mention that it's been getting rather nipping in Aberystwyth of late.

On Sunday afternoon I was walking along the prom in the sunset, feeling for the first time this year that I would like to be wearing my warm hat and my fleece under my coat.

Alas, wild flowers are not in abundance in West Wales in November. Have to put off the old 'relieved from an obliging field' move on the back burner for a while. Looks like it's freshly made bakery items time. Much more practical too, as they work rather like a hot water bottle when one happens to have them in an inside pocket while waiting for their recipient from a train in the cold.

La la la la la :)

Oh, and if anyone is bemoaning the lack of pretty pictures in this blog, as it once was famed for... well, sorry. If fact, once the postperson arrives with a parcel, you should soon start to get pictures in glorious, lo-fi, analogue, manual style. That's right, Ye Olde Silver Halide.

Oooh, me 'eart

2005-11-04T16:17:00.000Z

Yes, I know I'm getting old, but...

a swift ride up the hill to campus shouldn't leave me with a dull pain in my chest all day. Even if it was a record-breaking 7:02 to get from New Street to parking at the Llandinam Building.

I didn't mean to go fast - just that it was raining and I was feeling quite pumped. Somehow I 'span' (technical unicycling term) all the way up Penglais... as far as Bronglais hospital. There my gasping for breath, my racing heart and my leaden legs reminded me that there are good reasons for pacing one's self and taking it easy.

For goodness sake, that's a one mile ride. Another 0.25 miles taken slower, crossing the road and cruising across the carpark, and I could sit in the lecture and recover.

Once more my dreams of super-stardom and world-class unicycling acclaim come toppling down around the altar of lack-of-mega-fitness.

That's not to say that I don't still hope to register for UniConXIII - July 2006 in Switzerland. The one race that I feel like having a real go at, the Unlimited 10Km, is likely to be dominated by people not only super-fit, but with expensive geared unis and cool sunglasses. Something like the Swiss bobsled team in Cool Runnings.

But then that's why UniCon is great. Like the Olympics, but with plenty more Eddie the Eagles.

Sometime I'll go and try blasting off 10km of clear Welsh roads, and see just how stupid 23 minutes is.

Doddering but responsible

2005-10-30T21:38:00.000Z

That eerie thing has happened today.

I'm now officially an adult in every relevant way, just about anywhere in the world.

Wonderfully, I think I'll make it through this day without taking up smoking a pipe, wearing tweed slippers or even registering with Saga holidays.

After a beautiful morning, in which Alfred Place Baptist church had more students in its congregation than possibly ever before, due to Amy and Alice being baptised. I enjoyed the service, although reservations remain, and surely will remain unless either of two things. My understanding of the outlook and ethos of such members of the rich denominational spectrum; or my understanding of the outlook and ethos of the Jesus whom I read about in the whole of my Bible.

Oh dear. I didn't intend getting into a reasoned debate here. Well, just to say that I don't think there's anything wrong; rather that what is right is very right, but just not all there.

But while I'm here, I think Jesus gave the best summary of his mission, his motives, his life, death and resurrection, his gospel... In "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full" - John 10:10. He didn't save us just theologically for mysterious, distant, placated wrath, (though he does, thank God!); or to Be Very Christian and have a sound religion, but for Life!

Life, in all its fulfilling, God-saturated, three-dimentional, full-colour, delicious, live-motion, enduring, ever-lasting, interactive, loud, quiet, huge, tiny, public, personal, tangible, genuine, excellent, bleeding-strong, mind-melting, priceless, beautiful, reality.* A tiniest corner of Jesus.

Available for collection in various sized installments, from now to eternity...

Meanwhile, back at the point...

Happy Birthday Kev, Tim and Ben too.
Wee.
30 Oct: a good day for birthdays.

*In the words of Lisa Simpson: "I'm no theologian...", I haven't got other Bible verses up my sleeves for each of these facets, but if you have any comment on any of this, let me know.

Satisfaction, not Spongebob Squarepants

2005-10-25T13:56:00.000+01:00

Part of my regular morning routine is the task of filling an old plastic 500ml drinks bottle with a full measure of good, simple, honest tap water. It is a great blessing, which I do often. Also something which I do often is brushing my teeth.

To do this I have to put the full bottle on the side of the sink. Strangely, it sometimes stays there. I leave the house briskly, off for another day up at campus. It stays by the sink. Unconsumed. Without the fruition of its purpose.

What this leads to is that I feel I need to buy a drink during the day. All I really want is a bottle to fill up with tap water, so I don't want a can. So it's the Evian machine for me.

But buying water for 80p is an unconscienable event, so I go for the orange drink option. What comes out is not the listed option, however; rather it is Spongebob Squarepants Orange water. Mmmm. Also, only 330ml, not the 500ml like the Evian bottles.

Oh well.

Blip... blipp... blippp...

2005-10-22T14:48:00.000+01:00

Good evening.

This is a public service announcement.

If you have any old (or new) unneeded wheelchair wheels, please send them, via email, to sam(at)redwelly.co.uk.

Now I go to procure a Japanese Cedar tree. A small one. Possibly.

The fact that I just thought I was typing 'maple' rather than 'cedar' means that I had in my mind that this was much more exciting than it may be. I'd love a explosively coloured maple tree in my life. One day.

But then I may still go for this cedar. Surprising beauty in unexpected places is oft the way Grace works.

Yes. I'm making a point now. See how that worked?

Aberystwyth Park is back online

2005-10-11T23:42:00.000+01:00

Hello from the excitingly functional world of flashing green LEDs and trailing network cables that is...

16 New Street, connected to the internet!

Yes, yes. Don't all run up to me and kiss me all at once. The slow process of Common Sense being applied to various elements of the installation and hey-presto! Easy, huh?

Thanks go out to Mr. Bill and the fine people at Windows XP, for making computers which can work all this out for themselves, so that people like me can make a shared, routed broadband connection an active thing.

w00t.

1000 miles by unicycle

2005-09-08T00:38:00.000+01:00

My blogging is down for a while, as I'm unicycling up Britain with three fine friends from Aberystwyth.

http://endtoend-aberystwyth.blogspot.com/

A smidgen more can be found there.

Also

http://www.endtoend.tk

Going underground

2005-08-28T15:41:00.000+01:00

The charming fellows from Wessex Water, our local provider of the wet stuff, have been probing into the ground under the guise of "fixing a water leak". In their enthusiasm to liberate as much earth from below the road as possible, it seems they have liberated all of us in our road from the strangling noose of the telephone system.

When I approached them to enquire about such things, they pre-empted my intrusion, and hailed me thus:

Gentleman with metal pole: "You're not tellin' us your phone's off, are you?"
Me: "Um, yes. Get that often, do you?"
Different gentleman by digger: "yeah, that was my fault. BT have been informed... maybe you should call them and tell them that you've been cut off, that you have a very dependent elderly mother... might speed them up a bit."

So, with all the details of our impending End to End cycling trip stored in my email, and an 'ETR' (Estimated Time of Repair) from BT of next Thursday, I'm at a friends' house, trying to extract all the information I need from any internet-based sources, and put it in offline format.

Joy; felicitation!

In other news, I popped down to Lee Abbey last week for a game of Scrabble (TM) with Tim'n'Mim. The 94 miles of unicycling to get down there was largely enjoyable, especially the first two hours, during which I got 25 miles without dismounting. That's all the way to Wells. Woo.

The South Westerly headwind became unpleasant, and conspired with the North Devon hills to make the last 20 miles exceedingly hard. Note to self: do not unicycle across the top of Exmoor. It's very windy. Wind and unicycles don't mix.

Cunningly, our direction of travel should be going with the prevailing wind, and not going up and down various 25% hills too much. Also, we shouldn't have to be doing that after 70 miles of riding earlier in the day.

Look at this...

2005-08-17T20:28:00.000+01:00

Look, look... I'm actually 'logging' the 'web'! That's 'weblogging' to you and me, or just 'blogging these days.

Yes, the original meaning for these online burblings... not just for my own meanderings, but for linking to interesting things by others.

Now, after a build-up like that, you just know you are going to be both tickled and probed by this Postmodern Retelling of the Parable of the Pharisee and the Publican.

I had a bath with Adrian Plass last night (I'd recommend it to anyone), accompanied by a good supply of Jaffa Cakes, and was most pleasant. The reason for mentioning it is that I read his account of the Denominational World Cup; something which I must have seen before, but it really made me laugh out loud.

2005-08-13T16:00:00.000+01:00

Day 18

"I tracked you down through an old insurance claim, filed under terms of absolute secrecy"

2005-08-11T23:08:00.000+01:00

...was not what this man said. He said it had been tricky to get my number, as it was printed wrong, along with my (not my correct) name, but somehow he had got my number and got me.

The anonymous 'he' turned out to be none other than (no, I'd not heard of him before either) Brian Davis, who told me he had been the very first person to unicycle the great End to End of Britain.

He'd done it in 1980, in 19 days, on a 28" unicycle, with a support vehicle for his stuff.

I'm doing it in 2005, in 23 days, on a 29" unicycle, with four (occasionally five) support cycles.

We had a nice chat about the ordeal, getting lots of carbs for breakfast, vicious drainage on the A9 beyond Perth and cramp at Bridgewater. He lives near John O' Groats now, but was born in Bath... which must be how he found out about me - from the local press today. He may even be able to visit the end point, to welcome us in to the finish!

It was amazing to have a call out of the blue from someone with a story like this. Makes the world feel a smaller, more beautiful place than ever.

He also said "oh, that's ideal" when I said what size wheel I use (29"). That was a nice change from "you must be mad, that's tiny" from the 36" brigade of modern unicyclists (I don't mean they're wrong... some of you know I'd love a 36", but it's not the be-all-and-end-all of distance unicycling).

It's all kicking off in under three weeks now. I can't wait!!

Allegiance to a country

2005-08-08T00:04:00.000+01:00

After listening through some of the samples of the upcoming Switchfoot album 'Nothing Is Sound', for which I have probably impossibly high hopes, I found something irresistible.

"I pledge allegiance to a country without borders,
Without politicians..."

Previously 'A Beautiful Letdown' inspired hope that Christian music, even by Americans, could have such a passion behind it, bleeding through it, that is more Jesus-like than just Christian-like. The lively repudiation of the fabric of modern Western middle-class life... even that of all who will be buying their music, but who still want to believe that there's a breath somewhere through the suffocating plastic-coat.

The first plays of the first few samples didn't seem that gripping... even verging on 'samey'... one of the very things I liked in how they weren't; setting them out as more creative than most professional Christians. But I'm well on my way to being convinced. Also it has 'Daisy', which I've had as a partial live-preview download for months, and come to regard as a favourite beautiful song, makes buying it almost certain. Especially when he says things like this:

No, I don't believe in rock and roll. No, I don't believe in the success that we've achieved. And no, I don't believe in me. In a free market world of the bought and sold I feel caught in between. I believe I've heard about a man who was exploited to sell everything from indulgences to the wars of men. And yet he offered only one bitter pill that was not easily marketed. Maybe that's what this record hopes to be: a simple bitter pill of truth that steps outside of our hamster wheel and looks up at the stars and beyond.

Rainbow straps and sandals

2005-08-07T22:25:00.000+01:00

Rainbow straps and sandals

One of the many treats on display on Sidmouth prom during Folk Week. The town-sized retirement home becomes an unconsciously bohemian effluence for one week of the year. Being there for only one day, I saw a public Cedeilh in a river ford, a man wearing 'sock (in the singular) and sandals', bagpipes, accordions, people wearing and selling clothes with colours sure to induce debilitating medical conditions from prolonged exposure and a home knitted jumper advertising the event.

Beautiful.

2005-08-04T22:40:00.000+01:00

The Gardener

2005-08-03T17:50:00.000+01:00

Day 9

Planting update #2

2005-07-30T12:01:00.000+01:00

Day 5

Day 5

Fantastic! When I took the first picture, below, that was the only life to be seen. Now, two days later, some of the other varieties of seeds have burst into life. The action is all progressing at a rip-roaring pace; before I know it I'll have to re-plant them into properly spaced rows. I wonder how far they will get in the next 4 weeks that I have to observe them?

After then, I will be unicycling excessively, from Land's End to John O'Groats! See The official trip website for all the trip details.

Planting update #1

2005-07-28T20:12:00.000+01:00

Come forth, my precious. Seed shell bursting life from the fetid wastes of unknown matter.

This is the currect stage of development of my botanical bounty. It's something of a test case, as it is planted at all the wrong time of year, and all that, but I just wanted to see if it would grow, and what might happen.

I'm currently quite excited, as I only planted these seeds in a tray on my windowledge on Monday night. They should take about two to three months to come to fruition. Most of them are fairy covered by the compost still, but there are some which are open for public viewing. Little do they know quite how public their viewing is... potential audience of billions. Potential.

Can you guess what it is yet?

Stay tuned and you shall get updates as they happen. This also gives me a rather good excuse to take lots of macro shots with my shiny new piece of consumerism (a Canon A520, if you care about such things).

Alarm clocks kill dreams

2005-07-17T16:30:00.000+01:00

This is the slogan of the Canadian Work Less Party.

It appeals to me a lot. I haven't read much of their site, so don't think that I advocate all of their policies, but the idea is a good one. Not just in a slobby student why-can't- I -stay-in-bed-all-day way, but a rebellion against the pointless treadmill of working for money, so you can spend it on stuff that other people have spent their time making... getting more tired and stressed by trying to make life better.

There are countless things I would like to do with my time which I simply don't 'have time' to do...

I have a pile of books which I'd love to read, if only I made time.

I have several canvases lying blank, with paints in tubes, just begging for life and creativity to be applied through one onto the other.

I have more unreplied-to emails and letters from wonderful friends, which I have long failed to reciprocate, than I care to uncover. If this is you, please forgive me... and write again.

There are many things I'd love to learn to do, where the most difficult part is simply to get around to trying.

Now I'm going to leave this computer and do a bit of the above.
Why not do the same?

"Britain's finest neo-medieval psychedelic folk-rock band"

2005-07-15T20:16:00.000+01:00

As I walked away from HMV this afternoon I thought to myself:

"Ooh, I've just gone and bought my first mainstream album in years. It's been ages since I last bothered with anything from 'downstairs' in HMV."

Preferring rather such musical subtleties as charity-shop fayre (a veritable trove of discounted obscurity), online purchases of Christian bands famous only within very limited circles, and the scope of HMV's 'upstairs' range of Classical, soundtracks and showtunes.

Then it occurred that perhaps Circulus still doesn't quite count as Mainstream. A septet of fellows and a fellowess from Plumsted, who dress in a combination of what was cool in 1970 and 1270, playing songs about scarecrows and pixies on unpronounceable wind instruments, blended with layered, floating electronic prog rock.

After its nationwide release on Monday, the Bath branch of HMV still had all of the three copies which they'd been supplied with, meaning that I was the first to take one of these from their shelves. Possibly a mite less frantic than the imminent release of another certain product blending the mystical with the modern. Counting down the hours to a book release, indeed?

Condem-nation

2005-07-11T23:14:00.000+01:00

This isn't a news source, so I didn't need to rush to a keyboard to post something about the daily happenings of last week.

After "7/7" in London (good to see that at least they have a consideration for the illogical date system used by our all-too-easily-confused brothers across the pond), from the various news sources which seem to saturate one's senses at times like this, the thing I heard most was this: "we condemn".

Forgive me for being naive, (and being too lazy to look for the double-dotted i) but what's the point? This is a disturbing trend of recent times. Do we need our leaders to issue a statement to speedily "condemn" things like this? Are they concerned that, if they don't reassure us quickly that they don't condone such violence (at least not against us... erm... no, I won't go there...), we may think that they secretly planned it.

How many of us were sighing resignedly to see good ol' Tony playing at being President? With all the hobnobbing with those who have large marble mantelpieces, he must have forgotten that he has a parliament to address for things like this. Having Mr. Dubya on his shoulder hardly lessened the effect. Can no-one see that the worst thing that we can do is to take pride in this pathetic claim of defiance? Did having the US of A soaked in stars and stripes improve anything beyond Dubya's ratings? Did it improve the Christian White West's image to the rest of the world?

With recent evidence, I'm doubting it.

I know I'm not addressing the world by writing here (thank goodness!). The "let's just get on with things" mantra is highly applaudable, and the deeper it goes towards peoples' hearts, the better.

Though I have become, even a little, more sympathetic to the difficulty of this deliberate apathy. After having little connection with which to empathise with New Yorkers four years ago, these bombs in London provided I think the most concerning news I've seen. With several good friends and family in London, though I knew of no reason why they should be involved in those Tube stations at that time, it was quite unsettling.

There could have been individuals from something like 10 million people on the Tubes. Under 1000 were hurt, making it 0.01%, in my mind anyway.

Statistics are one thing, but when it comes to the crunch, it can be hard to believe them.

But to desperately call around anyone who could have possibly been in the area would be rather less than "acting as normal". If there's anything I need to know, I'd know soon enough. Yes, I'll keep on trying this defiant apathy thing. What did I have for dinner today then? Cold pasta salad with some very nice dressing, followed by a cup of tea. How patriotic.

So, what was I trying to say in all this? Oh yes, haven't we had enough condemnation yet?

Live 8. Yes. Well, it's better than No.

2005-07-02T12:33:00.000+01:00

Make Poverty History. Probably the best publicity campaign I have ever seen. The BBC is seemingly obsessed with Africa. Turn on the TV, radio or glance at a website and it'll be talking about Africa, poverty and development. There is a swelling sense of optimism that this just might actually be another step forward in the long, slow process.

"It's not to get hands in pockets, it's to get fists in the air" - Bono.

So the cynics can whine to themselves. They can say that it won't work, that everyone else (but them) are naive. They can say it's a waste of time and ego boosting.

This cartoon from CartoonChurch.com expresses my feeling with excellence.

I'll just quote lyrics from Switchfoot...

From the third world to the corporate core
We are the symphony of modern humanity

If we're adding to the noise
Turn off this song
If we're adding to the noise
Turn off your stereo, radio, video

If don't want to do anything, if you want to be consoled into a comfortable apathy, turn off everything, go and read the opinions in the Telegraph. Today won't solve everything. It won't suddenly make the world the way it was, and is, meant to be, but it can do something

And the first thing that needs to change is us.

I've only recently been reminded that Nestlé are still causing the death of over 4000 babies a day (yes, I know I'm sounding like Sir Bob, but get over it) through promotion of powdered baby milk which many mothers are coerced into using, which they then have to use with infected water. I think I can go without anything from Nestlé for the forseeable future. After all, they only make luxury products, and I'll never need chocolate or cereal that badly.

24hr Mountain Unicycle racing...

2005-06-30T19:48:00.000+01:00

Meet Unicycle.com's newest sponsored team rider. Honestly, well, in a way!

Last weekend I was competing in the "Saab Salamon Mountain Mayhem 2005", a 24-hour-long team relay race, on a 10.6 mile off-road circuit near Malvern. This means taking turns with three other team mates to do a lap each, as fast as possible, from 2pm Saturday until 2pm Sunday.

Waking up to thunder a lightning on Friday morning was an amusing feeling. Then getting onto the bus with a backpack complete with folding chair and carrymat, clutching a unicycle. Several comments among other bus users along the lines of "Oh, it's a shame it's raining for them again. The seem to enjoy it that way though!"

I don't think the old ladies around where I live keep up with the Mountain Bike racing calendar, so they just may have been referring to another certain muddy camping event this weekend.

By the time the start got together it had been rainless for a good 12 hours or more, so I was hopeful for minimal (this term used relatively) mud. The start was a brilliant experience, standing as one in a crowd of about 400 other coloured helmets and countless acres of branded lycra. Of the three of us on unicycle.com teams, Roger works out that he is about as old as myself and Paul put together, and he sets off with no intention of letting the whipper-snappers get ideas above their station.

With the pulsating mass of cyclists, the first half hour was fairly pedestrian, with a few good rideable sections before bottle-necking into the singletrack, and strolling through most of that. After a while it cleared out and the bigger adversary was mud that, though not as hungry as I heard about last year, still had an appetite for swallowing unwary riding shoes.

The support from other bikers was amazing. I don't think I have ever had so many people say "well done!" to me before. A few cries of "you're crazy, doing it on that thing", which I resisted reciprocating more than a smile to, considering some were when we were trudging uphill; I was pushing 6kg of one-wheel-ness, and he was lugging at least three times that of fully-suspended, eminently entanglable, pedal-powered monster-truck. Who's the nutter there?

Also, some bloke from the Extreme Ironing movement, doing it with an ironing board on his back. He was one of the solo riders. That means no team mates to give you a break. Maximum respect.

On our team, the third of the unicycle teams, we completed the regulation minimum of 2 laps each, which was better than could be said for a number of other teams competing on twice as many wheels. I averaged at lap time of 2h22m, which isn't very inspiring, but I was unable to get a lap in after dawn on Sunday, which was when the course really became more ridable as it had dried out a lot.

But on one wheel, times are hardly the main thing (though to get even a little closer to the kind of times Roger and Des were kicking out - under 1h30m! - would be worth a year's hard training! Next time you see me sweating up a silly hill on a unicycle, you'll know why...). Most importantly, it was a load of fun! A unique experience, which I hope to be able to repeat next year!

This also coincides with my second unicycling birthday. I learnt to ride two years ago this week. I don't think I ever really even dreamed of entering anything like this two years ago.

And the 'sponsored rider' business? Well, they paid half the registration fee, and provided free t-shirts. :)

Wildlife on One

2005-06-18T23:12:00.000+01:00

'Wildlife on One' is a brand new film from the studios of Redwelly and Bongosoft. Filmed and edited on location at Lee Abbey in Devon, just over a week ago.

It is the most ambitious project ever attempted by Redwelly Films. Many of you dear readers (bless you) will have seen my previous two films, the aptly named debut, 'Arrival', and the similarly appropriate (well, partly) 'Relax'.

Both were exclusively unicycling films, simply a collection of clips of my riding, made on my digital stills camera's movie-mode, set to various music.

This newest offering has so much more. It has a script (all lines were considered at least ten seconds before any 'take'), a cast (mainly my dear elder brother, Tim, as a Naturalist in pursuit of a rare breed of nettle)... why, it even has some semblance of plot (no responsibility can be assumed by the author for any unpleasant happenings arising from this being a misleading description of the understandability of the film in question)!

It is also over twice as long as my previous offerings, weighing in at just over 11 minutes, but worth every second.

So what are you waiting for? Download it now.

Value

2005-06-17T21:21:00.000+01:00

Value hacksaw

Value (n): An amount, as of goods, services, or money, considered to be a fair and suitable equivalent for something else; a fair price or return.

Compare and contrast the above definition with the picture of the current state of a 'Value hacksaw', which I purchased today. I went in search of a tool to work on my unicycle, adding a brake to the frame. This needed to cut through a tube of stainless steel. A standard and simple task.

I went to a good hardware shop in the Guildhall Market in Bath. It smells industrious in there. The smell of grandparents and small useful things at reasonable prices. The smell of the kind of place where you can expect to find the kind of things which the world seems full of, but which all too often are difficult to find in highstreet shops.

The owner is a lady who seems to be firmly installed permanently behind the counter. She, who without the briefest pause, can point to the location of any given item in the kaleidoscopic range of her stock to an accuracy of within two inches. Inches, of course, not centimeters.

"Kettle descalers?"
"There."

"Salt shakers?"
"Over there"

"20 Watt screw-fit lightbulbs?"
"Just down there"

I didn't have to ask where the hacksaws were. In a shop which contains a close approximation to everything, even a quick browse around will reveal to you the item of your desiring. I found the hook upon which hung a small collection of Junior Hacksaws. This is what I had come looking for, and I was satisfied to purchase one.
Then my eye strayed.
Barely four inches to the left was a yellow device, seductive in its apparently solid dependability. At 75% more expensive, it required some consideration of its merit, and a visit over the road to the cash machine. A full size blade, a recognised brand, a double action yellow handle. I was helpless to its charms.

Not cheap, but 'Value'. Hmm...

Within ten seconds of using it my dreams, and the first part of the blade, shattered. Over the course of the next hour or so, I continued my slow task, the blade getting progressively shorter. Eventually I reverted to using the 6cm mini hacksaw blade on my penknife, originally seeming so paltry, now magnificently effective.

The problem is fundamental in the design - hacksaw blades are intended to be tensioned from both ends. A one ended hacksaw is like an ocean wave approaching the shore. It seems impressive, looks beautiful and draws you in, but when it comes to the crunch it is doomed to break.

Value doesn't seem to always mean that you get what you pay for.
Next time it shall be the Junior Hacksaw.

"Hello Copenhagen...

2005-06-14T23:08:00.000+01:00

...this is London calling."

Now for the explanation of the above...

"hello 'x', this is 'y' calling" - The traditional phrase from Eurovision countries when giving the result of their tele-vote.

Copenhagen was the host of the first Eurovision contest, and in homage to this the Bosnia & Herzegovina entry for 2005, the 50th anniversary of the contest, featured a brief clip of the phrase "hello Copenhagen". Their song is called Call Me, and is a beautifully cheesy pop song, worryingly catchy. It has caught me anyway, and was in my head for much of the long, sunny, unicycle ride from Bath to Hounslow yesterday.

Yes, that's 100 miles of unicycling, and a beautiful thing it was too. Well, most of it. The A4, I was assured, is horrible. Narrow, fast and ugly. Certainly not worth a long cycle ride along.

Not so. From 5:30am yesterday I learnt it to be, in the most part, wide and beautiful, and despite it being a Monday in regular business time. It was far from overcrowded. The scenery was wonderful too, with green fields rolling off into the distance.

The sun shone down, my feet span round and around and around... the miles sped past.

Until Slough.

If you are ever approached by someone offering you a pleasant cycling trip to or through or near or even rhyming with Slough, never trust that person again. They are lying. It is a conglomerate labyrinth of botched cycle paths and pedestrian/cycle crossings, and using them is more effective for off-road practice than for anything else. Metal barriers like cobwebs hung around every corner, and across many otherwise useful spaces. Trees are things that were lost in the fumes of over-managed traffic layouts. Concrete competes with frowning chavs and pretentiously modified cars for being the most displeasing factor.

Usually people smile at unicyclists. It's just part of the human condition. They are slightly eccentric, especially when they wear helmets and luminous things and ride on the roads as if they belong there as much as any other 'roadie' slick-tyred cyclist. People wave, toot their horns and smile, even from Fire Engines and Police escorts.

Not in Slough. No, there they frown, keep their eyes down and mutter. You're not Amusing, you're not even Silly, you're just Different. And that's Wrong.

There isn't even a satisfying 'You are now leaving Slough' sign to speed you on your way back to the delightful land of sunshine and happiness that you remembered before you entered Slough. It just has concretey dual-carriageways which make the residue of Slough which clings to any area of your exposed flesh be coated over with the fresh sediment of solidifying expulsions from passing aircraft.

Heathrow, with its intestine profusion of multi-lane traffic motions. Its population of Suits, chauffeur driven Mercedes and BMW cars and shiny hotels. Its moral-sapping effect on an innocent unicyclist who has already done 95 miles and is sure that it is about time to stop. Who is sure that, according to his memory of the map, a Tube station should materialise on the left at any time.

Alas, many more miles, many false expectations caused by bus stops with the round logo with a line through it. But no Tube station.

Eventually, and after many mistaken excursions though Hounslow, I am advised correctly in the direction of the Tube station, and am welcomed by its static but assuredly solid and real existence.

With legs doing their best "we're bound to be cast into a bronze statue one day so we'd better start practicing what it feels like now" routine, I flop into a seat on the Piccadilly line train, and thence to Hither Green, Catford, and the Twort residence.

So a new personal record for longest ride in a day - my cycle-computer dooberie showing 103 miles, and an average rolling speed of around 11.5mph.

And today was a most excellent day of wandering around the capital in shorts, loose shirt, floppy hat and camera around neck ("tourist..? where..? how quaint, must take a photo of me next to one of those..."), taking in the sights with Poppy and Maria.

Most Excellent, indeed.

Don't cry for me Aberystwyth

2005-06-03T05:12:00.000+01:00

You know I'll never leave you.

Mmm... a promise I shall have to break in around eight hours. Gutted, I am.

This tail-end of the summer term has gone by like a pleasantly scented, lightly textured leather car door handle. Nice to hold for the appropriate time, but would be strange to keep hanging onto it.

Freddie had the bright idea of climbing Snowdon yesterday, Thursday. After some kerfuffle over cars, we all arrived and left at around 9am. Two more beautiful hours in Rosie's mini, with Dave, listening to more Random Tapes of cheesy music and surveying the stunning Welsh countryside.

The weather wasn't bad when we parked, but waterproofs were donned nonetheless. After an uneventful first hour of easy walking, the rain began, followed by the wind, bringing in the fog.

Before long it was blasting a gale, slashing rain into any unprotected edifice of one's person; with visibility down to about 20m. The apparent unapparentness of the path added to the experience, as we scrabbled up a few scree slopes ending in unyielding sheer rock faces and necessitating sliding back down said slopes.

Shoes squelching, gloves wringing and various things dripping heavily, we eventually summited the beast. Thinking we had lost Colin, Alun and Andy, who missed the car park when we left, we were pleased and impressed to find them appearing at the summit mere seconds behind us... having caught us up by around an hour!

The cafe jobbie at the top was a welcome break from the oppressive conditions, with tiled floors already swimming with water from other walkers. Amazing how much water a single sock can release when it is well squeezed.
A good hot chocolate is excellent, and suitable for dunking anything in, be it a chicken sandwich, potato pasty, custard cream, white chocolate or cheese and onion crisp. All of the above were tried.

On exiting the tranquil surroundings of the building and remembering how cold and blustery it was out there, Dave was happily quoted as saying:

"It's only the thought of Celine on the way home that will get me to the bottom."

And 'it's all coming back to me now...'

Much easier on the way down, and the skies cleared to make everything much warmer, drier and stiller. The view was fantastic.

So, that was my last day in Aberystwyth for this academic year. Sob. Too many goodbyes, too many goodbyes missed too. But here's to the rest of the summer.

Seriously though, the thought of leaving Aberystwyth for this long puts a lump in my throat.

I feel it in my fingers...

2005-06-01T12:18:00.000+01:00

I feel it in my fingers...

I feel it up my nose. Yes, go and take your nose for a walk on a morning like this one and it will reward you. After a long spell of excessively fine weather here in the Seaside Town Of Aberystwyth, and many sunburned noses later, we finally get some rain today. It smells wonderful. Just wander around in it and breathe deeply.

It is also particularly appropriate weather to listen to Chopin's Prelude 28, 'Raindrop'. Oh yes.

My socks are a little on the moist side of pleasant now, however.

Just the right kind of weather to don a black bin bag and go to a sing-along viewing of The Sound Of Music. The bin bag serves multiple purposes (and after that, multiple porpoises), in both keeping off the rain and giving one the appearance of a member of the Chaiste Elect. A rather tricky habit to get into though. What with it being a bin bag and all...

2005-05-28T16:17:00.000+01:00

At 8am, this makes a good cooked breakfast. Not actually this one, but one very like it. Yum. Though this wasn't so much to fuel the start of a new day, as to cap off the previous one.

The Confused Blues were playing their last gig of the year. Good friends, good music, copious dancing and more sweat than a sauna-bound sumo wrestler's armpit. After two encores they call it a night at around 12:30am. Dave, Rosie an I make use of the readily available sea side charms, by having a quick paddle. But aye, the night is young.

Titanic anyone? Oh yes. And Eurovision album listening. And walking up Pen Dinas to see the 'sun rise'. And meeting Thwaites in town. And some Father Ted while waiting for the cafe to open at 8am. And a fine full english cooked breakfast.

Then bed.

Blah blah blah...

2005-05-24T15:37:00.000+01:00

This is a surprisingly accurate rendering of what appears to be on the computer screen in front of me right now. That's right, I'm trying (some may dispute this implication of any effort being applied) to do my last ditch bit of Computer Science revision before the final vestige of my First Year degree education. An exam.

Amazingly, almost anything, not least writing on my blog, seems more attractive. Only 18 hours and it will all be over.

Tick, tock, tick, tock...

-----

Can't quite remember why I was looking for PaintShopPro now, but I found AnimationShop instead. I made this. This is quite nice, and filled my time amicably...

What do you read into this?

2005-05-23T11:56:00.000+01:00

How newspaper readers voted in 2001

MIRROR

Lab 71%

Lib 13%

Oth

Con 11%

STAR

Lab 56%

Lib 17%

Oth

Con 21%

SUN

Lab 52%

Lib 11%

Oth

Con 29%

GUARDIAN

Lab 52%

Lib 34%

Oth

Con

INDEPENDENT

Lab 38%

Lib 44%

Oth

Con 12%

Lab 33%

Lib 19%

Oth

Con 43%

EXPRESS

Lab 30%

Lib 21%

Con 48%

Lab 28%

Lib 26%

Oth

Con 40%

TIMES

Lab 24%

Lib 17%

Oth

Con 55%

MAIL

Lab 16%

Lib 14%

Oth

Con 65%

TELEGRAPH

Facinating, isn't it? Notice how un-other Finacial Times readers vote. Yes, I know it's 2001 figures. Did you notice that? Well, I didn't until I had already half-inched it from another blog. Still, I doubt that things change substantially beyond the margin of error.

Today looked promising ever since I got up at 6am to take my bro Tim down to the train station after his Interesting weekend here in Aberystwyth. I went to watch the waves doing interesting things to the jetty for a while, then ambled back up the hill. By then it was all of about 8am. A whole day ahead of me. Wooo!

Mmm.. how did it manage to be 12 noon, and my stomach signaling for second breakfast already?

The Force be with you...

2005-05-21T11:35:00.000+01:00

... and also with you. Let us share with one another a sign of the Force.

Have I been an Anglican too long?
I really did want to give that response during Star Wars Episode III. I'll not give a full blown review, but suffice to say that it was 'most triumphant'. Wonderful. The best one yet. Maybe. Very, very funny to start with, mind-blowing robots and space ships... also very, very tragic, jaw-droppingly shocking (even though we all knew what would happen). Downright fantastic.

And no, your eyes do not decieve you... that photo does indeed show Princess Leia and a Jedi Knight (the one on the right) on the Aberystwyth prom. Well, who said dressing up was just for kids?

2005-05-19T15:19:00.000+01:00

It may get a little tedious for some of you, but I really do love Aberystwyth. I believe it is special in it's uniqueness. Just today I found reference to it. On the internet of all places. Is this a coincidence?

I was viewing cartoons on http://www.cartoonchurch.com and finding them very good indeed. I followed an interesting looking small link about drawing in public. After reading this article I feeling very almost inclined to rise from my current seat, ignore any things I may have to do for the rest of the afternoon, and go to draw something outside. Then I glanced at the top left corner of that page, and discovered that it was connected to club which meets in the Aberystwyth Arts Centre.

Yes. Quite.

Considering that I was reading something that could have been anywhere in the world (though admittedly, due to the internet it is more likely to be in Britain, America (yes, I don't just mean USA, but Canada etc.) or Australia). But then to discover that it relates to a place that I could get to within 60 seconds, depending on the urgency of the occasion.

That intrigued me.
So...
I want to do more drawing than I do (almost none, apart from various doodles during lectures).

Go into your room and shut the door

2005-05-16T15:22:00.000+01:00

Which is all well and good, but doesn't always apply. Such as when the BBC have filled your church with lights, cameras and outside there are numerous white trucks and one conspicuously understated satellite dish. That's where various radio waves were propelled up into the sky, and thence, to every receptive TV set within BBC1's sphere of influence.

So, with St. Mike's Aberytwyth being beamed across the land, we had our best evangelical smiles on and polished up our Anglican responces until they can be delivered from our mouths without the content of the words passing anywhere near our minds.

That sounds rather cynical (or rather, it is), but it wasn't a bad thing. It was a very interesting experience, and did a lot of good for very many people involved, and was one of the best times of worship singing that I have had in a church. Stuart Bell's sermon was good and had a couple of better ecclesiastical amusements in it, even if he did leave the gospel message to be buried firmly in the liturgy.

And the socks and sandals? Yes, I know it's a joke. But seriously, it's just so comfy! It's warmth with freedom; it's protection with adventure.

Socks and Sandals, your favourite Prog Folk band, are on the fast-track to mega-stardom. Well, that's the idea behind giving Euwan the producer of the program a copy of the new (yet to be released!) album.

Songs Of Praise theme tune commission, here we come...

Use for a towel #42

2005-05-13T17:19:00.000+01:00

Flat out cycling

The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy. An excellent book, and I have been quite excited since I heard that they were finally making the film. Eventually the date of release comes closer and closer, and it becomes apparent that living in glorious Aberystwyth has its downsides - only one cinema screen... and it's not showing Hitchhiker's! Hmm. This is one not to be missed, so what to do? Aha. Make a joke with a friend who lives in Shrewsbury, the nearest big town, that we could ride there and watch it. Two weeks later and the joke becomes reality, and with Poppy and Dave on their bikes, I set off on my 29er unicycle, headed for Shrewsbury, 76 miles away. The road out of Aberystwyth towards the English border is beautiful, especially when you cover 30 miles by 9am.

At a remarkably consistent 10.5mph we pushed on, past breakfast, second breakfast brunch, lunch, afternoon snack, through tea, before making it to Dave's house in Shrewsbury in time for dinner. Mmm, nutrition based on the Hobbit-plan. Part of this exercise was to see just what it feels like to ride over 75 miles in one day. It feels good! The amount of food, water and sugar that one can consume seems almost unlimited, and we were still hungry later on. Due to being on the side of A roads the whole way I didn't get many comments from passers by. A handful of honks from trucks and cars was about as good as it got.

I did manage to achieve my ambition of shouting 'it' at someone else though... a Reliant Robin coming the other way was on the receiving end of a triumphant yell of "OI, mate, you've lost your other wheel!!".
Hehe.

My KH Fusion cover airseat conversion was working a treat, but I still had my first experience of the infamous Butt Butt'r. I had my doubts, but no longer. If anyone else thinks that it sounds silly, or that they wouldn't need it... think again. Your friends may laugh hysterically when they hear what it is, but the ego pain is a lot easier than the other pain that would otherwise continue! Who would have thought that the Elixir of Life could be bought in tubes from the internet?

So, we went to the cinema, towels to hand. The kiosk man didn't feel up to making a concession for a ticket, despite a straight-faced request that I had got my towel and could I 'borrow' a ticket please? But after paying, it was a superb film. Possibly the best kind - where its possible to quote along with the script even on the first time of seeing it. :)

The second day is where it would get more interesting. 76 miles is all well and good, but two days running is more of a challenge. The sun was beating down, our tans were coming along nicely and the chocolate milk from lunch was just making its journey down the path to the everlasting stomach, when my riding height dropped a small but substantial two inches. A flat airseat.
Nice.
Nothing a quick puncture repair can't fix though, and within minutes we're back on the road. Five minutes later... down again. Hmm. But on a downhill stretch, so my cycling friends were off into the distance, so I made it about another mile or more, effectively on a seat base. Something every cushy airseat user should do now and then - it's good for the soul. Once we regrouped, I had another look at the tube in my seat. The folding up inside the cover seems to make it rather susceptible to abrasion, and large punctures.

With another 50 miles to go before getting home for the night, something had to be improvised. What could possibly work? Thanks to the indelible advice of Douglas Adams, I had my trusty towel with me. Rolled up, it fitted snugly (very snugly) into the cover, and made a concoction vaguely resembling a saddle. Towel fabric may be nice a soft and fluffy when in a loose sheet, but when rolled tight and sat upon it gets amazingly hard. Still, I thought. Worth it, if only for the claim that I did it. After about 25-30 miles of the torture it seemed to get better. Whether the towel was molding to me, or whether I was getting more and more numb, I don't know. My triceps have been having a good work out though - constantly leaning down on the handle trying to relieve weight from the seat.

The other, more concerning, issue that arose from a ride of this scale, were my Achilles tendons. The phrase 'red hot iron bars' would be appropriate. During the second day they got tighter and tighter until I could still ride, but after dismounting, could barely walk. It felt like I might have to give up at some points, but as the day went on it seemed to pass. Fairly scary though. I did do warming up and stretching before riding, and after longer break.

Conclusion... 154 miles in two days on a 29er is very possible. Average speed of 10.4mph. Chocolate milk is good. 'Butt Butt'r' is good.

Always know where your towel is.

That time again

2005-05-10T18:10:00.000+01:00

"He who begun has half done. Dare to be wise; begin."
-- Horace

Yes, it's the early summer, when the days suddenly get longer, the air warmer and the rain rarer. Also, though, the time when countless young people across the country either don't go outside often enough to enjoy it, or have the feeling that they shouldn't be enjoying it so much.

Possibly the only way to get revision for summer exams done would be to lock us into windowless cells, having previously wiped from memory any knowledge of what may be outside. Also severing an internet connection would be helpful. If only all the useful course material, past papers, lecture slides weren't online. Only excuses, I know. But still.

Apart from moaning about how frustrating doing university work is, I'm trying to be as ubiquitous as possible on my new road unicycle. The target of tackling Land's End to John O'groats in September is an ever encouraging reason for laying into a few more hundred miles.

First one to the English border, anyone?
The plan is to cycle (on however many wheels is your preference) to Shrewsbury, with the partial excuse of watching Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy in a cinema that is actually showing it (as in, not the Aberystwyth Commodore), but also to see what it feels like to do a 150 mile cycle ride in two days.
Party on, excellent!

+ Favourite new sandwich filling: cheese and apricot jam. Mmmm!
+ Best new mixed drink: Lemon/Lime Pepsi Max with cider. (thanks to Poppy for coming up with this one)

X rated control

2005-05-05T21:08:00.000+01:00

Over 18s giving X ratings.

Yes, here it is for my first time ever, a general election! Very exciting. Well, about as exciting as a bare church hall with a ragged grove of plywood booths furnished each with a pencil on a piece of nylon twine, can ever be. Three old ladies to pass pieces of paper between, writing different mysterious numbers down, and using curious hole-punching 'security' devices.

Despite many of my friends being denied their democratic right to vote by the apparently pathetic postal voting system's failings, there seemed to be a good queue of people voting when I popped down there. I seemed to end up on the sunny side of the postal vote shenanigans, as I got my postal vote from home, as I registered for, but I also got a voting card for my local constituency at uni. I'm sure I never asked for that, but I'm happy to have it. It means I have probably the only choice I'll ever have to vote for a Welsh Nationalist party.

I won't say how I voted, but there may or may not be a clue in the picture for today's entry, and well, when in Aberystwyth do as the...

Now at least the news might have something other than men in suits arguing with other men (and women these days) in suits about money and power. Oh, wait. Better not get too hopeful.

Come on now Jon Snow... get swinging.

From success to significance

2005-05-04T11:20:00.000+01:00

Untimely ripped

St. Michael's Church, Aberystwyth, has the current slogan 'from success to significance', to focus its efforts on being more than simply a popular, slick, well running operation. The same words can convey a rather different thing though. My bookcase.

At around 8:10am I was lying in bed, contemplating the day. What may happen in this next period of daylight and night-time, I wondered. Didn't need to wonder for long.

!!Chhhhhrunchkk!

Hmmm. I wondered how long that might take. Going from successfully mounted to significantly unmounted. It looked a little dodgy when I moved in here, in September. The screws were slightly out of the wall when I loaded it up with some satisfyingly heavy books and various sundries. But then, it's been here for years, it's meant for putting heavy things on. It'll be ok.

The design of Delirious?'s CD case being a metal box now doesn't seem so superficial, being as it's one of the few ones that didn't suffer shattering consequences on becoming forcibly acquainted with the floor, shortly followed by the weight of a remarkably solid piece of wooden construction.

Thank God that I was still in bed though, or 3kg of sharp-cornered, hard-backed Systematic Theology may likely have sent me straight into the realms of glory.

Wow!

2005-05-02T17:53:00.000+01:00

Something explosively celebratory has happened in my life. A massive milestone in my progress as a member of sentient existence. Absolutely incredible. Nothing that I have experienced so far in my life has ever come close to this. It's like my perspective has gone from single-dimentional black and white into full-immersion, glorious technicolour moving, singing, dancing 3D.

Well, until anything fitting the above hype comes along, I'll just stick with it.

Still, the weather has been intersting lately. It rained hard this morning.

Fatal dead line

2005-04-28T12:28:00.000+01:00

Do you have a personal problem? A person problem? Wish that someone would simply go away?

http://www.hitman.us

They take Visa.

Ahem.

2005-04-27T02:36:00.000+01:00

Perfect love...

I can hear it ticking away now - yes... aha...'drives out fear'? Fear, love... opposites... incompatible? Wait a minute. Isn't fear part of the strongest sort of love? Isn't light only light because of the darkness? Aren't corners only sharp because of the straight lines, and, and, and... all the other neat, packaged clichés about Life.

"Don't talk to me about Life. I've seen it." It's got lots of strange bits in, but it's far from 'rubbish'. Memories. Threads running back through the mind, but only having any essence at all because of the edges on which they snag, twist, turn what was simply "now" into "I'd never have guessed at the time, but looking back it all makes so much more sense". Even "aggggh!" into "hmmm... that's certainly worth remembering...". So is there any use then for fear? If all the nows become thens, with inconceivable value, could not one suppose that fear never should be, well... feared? Not so much on a level of anything actually changing whether or not one gets scared, but simply whether one should.

But the biggest love that I can know, is only like that because of the fear that God has let me see. The only way I can look at a diagram of two perpendicular lines and see love, is that God has let me look towards myself, and to see the fear inside. The crumpled fist of hidden helplessness. The hurt pride that laughs itself off, but then burrows down to grow new claws. The selfishness that gives away the last sweet, to grab hungrily at the piousness of its own sacrifice. If I had no fear of that, I should not spin around, eyes sprinting across the reaches of what I can understand, seeking some real way to rid myself of it. I would not plead with God, for him to come up with some real answer to it. Surely he could, surely he'd be able to? Even though it must be impossible for him... for he knows. He knows what it's like in there. He knows it doesn't get any better when I forget it. He knows I haven't seen even the half of it.

Finished! Achieved! Accomplished! That's what he said. That's what he cried out, knowing, like no-one else ever will, what it truly meant. That he could somehow fold up inside himself all of the whole of which he'd turned my eyes to see only a part. Not just with a barge-pole, not with sterile gloves afraid to touch and a face mask preventing him breathing it in. Not with tinted glasses seeing less and tweezers feeling little, but with both arms held wide open and with his heart still beating with light. He reaches out his crushing hand, strong, undaunted but with the softest contact. Takes the crumpled fist, the molten ashes from my own and holds them to his chest. How that pumping light could touch this, my weak antithesis of his firm innocence? But hold it he does, and catch my eye. Could there ever be an eye I could not catch, but his? Yet without sound or motion he simply says

"it's going down with me. I'll see you in the morning..."

.

Blame it on the Radio

2005-04-25T11:42:00.000+01:00

"did you marry your teacher, or did you just have sex?"

I like turning on Radio 4 at random times during the day. As a student, the times of day that one comes home to one's room can often be fairly random. I'm a great fan of the almost incomprehensibly inappropriate subjects which are on during the day and night. Inappropriate not in the moral sense, despite what the opening quote may indicate, but as things that students just shouldn't be listening to. Early in the morning and the evenings are disappointingly predictable.
News.
Politics.
Comedy.
Well, Radio 4 comedy is like nothing else, but it's almost too acceptable to listen to. Among some people it's almost cool. I do sometimes wish I was always washing up at 6:30pm on weekdays.

But gardening? Strangely alluring. Really - I just don't know what it is that makes me want to sit there and absorb polite elderly people recommending this season's exciting south-facing, light-soil-preferring, disease-resistant geraniums to each other. But it draws me in and hangs onto me like a shadowy beast, following the trail of crumbs falling from the dissolving cookie in my perforated pocket lining. Usually relegated to the recesses of mere dread but perpetually recluse and festering. The vice that would not need to be hidden away in secret, simply because it would never occur in public. Like how many sheets of toilet paper is your custom - no-one knows, and no-one asks. Just when I think I've forgotten about it... Like the way that I have just lost The Game. (sorry!)... I absent-mindedly wander in, push the button and get ensnared again.

2005-04-17T16:11:00.000+01:00

Various ways to enjoy a sandy beach

Aberystwyth has many charms. Probably more than about anywhere else in the world. Miles of soft, golden sand is not one of it's more abundant assets though. For this one needs to translate one's self about 8 miles north, to a little enclave of enchantment called Ynyslas. It's a charming cycle ride, especially with five friends and 11 wheels between you. The rain was lashing down and the sun hid it's face as we gathered, undetered. Llanbadarn was widely mocked as a fool (but a nice one at that) for showing up in a t-shirt, socked through before starting ride. About half an hour later he was shown to be much wiser than the rest of us, as we pack our coats into our bags and the sun takes the mask from it's face and glows like the little child who knew how to tie their shoe-laces all along, but still liked making Mummy tie them instead.

Many aching muscles later, and a good time was had by all. Here's to the beginning of the summer term, and many more cycle rides to go.

Things learnt today:
-> Ynyslas rocks, because there aren't many there.
-> Unicycles don't work on soft sand
-> Wear a t-shirt, whatever the weather looks like

2005-04-15T17:31:00.000+01:00

Door not in use.

I wonder how often it happens, that in a lecture in a module titled "Web Programming", teaching about website 'sessions', people have been reduced to tears. It did today. It happened to me. I don't cry often, though in the last year or two I have developped a lot and now the occasional film or song in church (or even book, in exceptional circumstances) will get the warm-and-salties running. But who can keep a dry eye, or even a straight face, when a lecturer dispenses his knowledge through a beard for which the definition 'super-goatee' would be like describing the grand canyon as a pavement crack, and gesticulates as if his limbs have been re-animated from a paralytic state using just a smidgen too much silicone.

Then he says "let's just put this together with some syntactic sugar" and all hope is gone. Just hang your head and try to explode quietly.

New-fangled ideas

2005-04-09T23:36:00.000+01:00

This morning was the chronological host to an event which surprised even me. My mother is a regular computer and internet user, and perfectly competent with it. It seems though, that the mental processes that go with this ability, and the intergration of this with normal life, still seem to be a little distant.

Scenario (I wonder where that word comes from - it doesn't look very, well, local.) - Mum has lost touch with an old friend who was her bridesmaid 25 years ago. These things happen. The thing is, now that she wants to discover her again, she begins to employ a rather strange method. It involves paper. Both in the form of a letter, and in the form of a paper - the Luton local press. The idea being that if this bridesmaid-from-yesteryear is still known in her local area, someone might read a note placed in the newspaper and be able to share her contact details. All well and good. Not a bad plan. Could even give some useful results, with a lot of luck, lots of paper, and several weeks.

Or. This beautiful beast which you are riding at this very moment. The internet. Yes, just before mother leaves to post her letter to the newspaper to get this manual process rolling, I enquire innocently whether she's tried Google yet? Seems not. So a quick search of the name of this, now not so young, lady. Guess what? She's got her name and current photo ( apparently quite recognisable after 25 years) on a website of a local (to her at least) Gilbert and Sullivan society.

Mum then had only the dilemma of whether Royal Mail's current self-adherent stamp glue would come off with steaming.

The call of the sea

2005-04-09T09:16:00.000+01:00

When the salty sea air is making the metaphorical journey down from the recesses of memory into the less metaphorical recesses of ones nasal cavity it can mean only one thing. Yes, it needs no call-ID feature, no picture-message-ringtone, no door peephole... the call of the sea can be coming only from that epitome of sun, sea, students and socks and sandals that is... Aberystwyth!

Sweet home Aberystwyth, where the skies are so grey,
Sweet home Aberystwyth, I'm a-comin' home today!

Which reminds me: I'd better be a-packin' up my bags.

2005-04-07T11:33:00.000+01:00

Whatever a cynic may think, surely this proves that Spring has come to Britain?

A good holiday day begins with waking up without the aid of artificial expergefaction, the cold grey light filtered through the yellow curtain, a more practical form of rose-tinted glasses. The window pane glistening with raindrops, occasionally getting scattered by a gust of wind hurling itself, and a fresh volley of drops, at the window from the outside. Inside is still warm.

A few more chapters of a world so like this one. Maybe a little more coincidental, a little more magical and a good dollop more explainable. The parts that aren't are quite intentional. All the parts that don't work, all the reflections of the incapacity in this 'real' life are stacked against each other into ways that seem to make them make so much more sense.

That's Adrian Plass for you. His short novel, An Alien at St. Wilfred's... a beautiful way to spend about 6 hours of your life. Hopefully it will affect much more than the hours that it is read.

But now that the sun is shining, the sky is so blue it almost convinces you that it's not even cold outside and the remains of the rain make half the world sparkle. What music can I listen to on a day like this? When silly love songs just make me just want to forget, and loud, angry ones don't work because I don't have regrets. Nothing too flippant, yet not too poinient, in case it finds a nerve best kept hidden. Not too distinctive yet not too bland. No use being sad, but happy seems a little off the mark. Can't look forward, don't want to look backward, won't look down, I'll have to look up.

OK :)

This is not the end

2005-04-07T01:08:00.000+01:00

...it is not even the beginning of the end. In fact, it is quite simply the beginning of the beginning (discounting of course, all the other tentative beginnings that I've had in this direction).

So, I've finally started writing an online journal; that which the Funky and With It social commentators might describe as yet another portentous spore on the hay-fever-sufferers nemesis that is the world of the 'blog' (assuming here that the concept of blogging is like a summer meadow... work with me on this...).

In other words, I'll put into other words various things that I find to be worth commenting on in this funny thing called life. I've been told that people seem to enjoy the way that I write, so I hope that my attempts at interesting lexicographic contemplation will be received with glee and anticipation (or at least amicable sympathy).

The more that it seems people are reading this caboodle of wiffle, the more I'll be inclined to add to it. So please do, read and return.

So, with nothing more to comment on currently than the weather (lovely and sunny, spring definitely rolling up it's sleeves and putting the patio plants out), I'll ponder rhetorically whether anyone else has noticed the delicious irony in the slogan used by 'Cauldron' brand vegetarian ready-meals. "Adding life to your cooking" Mmhmm?