brief moment of egregious cuteness June 29, 2005  

It's worth listening to this week's I'm Sorry, I Haven't a Clue (repeated Saturday at 12:30, available online afterwards) for two notable points:

• Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader performing an extract from The Importance of Being Earnest. Easily the funniest thing I've heard for years.
• Harry Hill singing Old Macdonald Had a Farm to the tune of The Eagles' Hotel California. Funny, but noteworthy because Rebecca (who was being fed at the time) broke off her frantic consumption of strawberries to sing along. OK, so she was just doing the "E I E I O" bits, but she did recognise the song and sang in tune.

Rebecca also sings "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" - she doesn't know the words, but she can sing the tune. Cool!

And did I mention that she does a little dance whenever you say the word "dancing"?

the john peel stage June 27, 2005  

So about 6:30pm on Friday, I'm riding home down Milton Road. I come up to a set of traffic lights - two lanes, left lane is left-turning, right lane is straight on or right turn. I'm going straight, so I get into the right lane. I do the traditional slow gradually, unclip my right foot... and realise that I'm gently going over to my left. In the three seconds before I plummet, I desperately try to get my left foot out. No joy! I've just put new cleats on, and I can't get my foot out in time. Hell. Ok, there's a car in the left lane - I'm falling fairly slowly, so I put my hand out, catch my fall on the front wheel arch, and say "Sorry, mate." "No worries," says the bloke in the driver's seat. "SPDs are a bugger, eh?" says the guy in shotgun. "Er... yes they are," I agree, "yes they are."

Heh. Hilarious comments from the professionals about residents parking schemes. Or: cars seem to unleash something particularly odd, possessive and vile within the human psyche. Take a metal box, throw a wheel on each corner, and people get a bit odd about it.

So the other day I say to Heather, "I've found us the perfect house to buy!" Her instant reply: "It's not another bloody bunker, is it?" "Er... not exactly." I replied. She knows me too well.

Speaking of Heather... get your good karma in now and sponsor her for the London to Cambridge bike ride. It's a very good cause - if you don't happen to know someone who's had breast cancer (like, say, my Mum), think of Kylie and dig deep. For various reasons, I may not be doing any charity rides this year, so if you were thinking of sponsoring me on something please consider sponsoring Heather instead. It's a very good cause - 'nuff said.

forty-fifth generation roman June 23, 2005  

Having seen the final episode of this series of Dr Who, I can say only this: Russell T Davies must have been spitting blood when the news that Christopher Eccleston was leaving got leaked. I mean, c'mon - it would have made an incredible twist ending, with a completely unexpected regeneration. As is, we all know it's going to happen, so it's lost a lot of impact. Not to say that it's a weak episode: it's bloody good stuff. And can I just say - if you're going to have kissing on kid's TV, that's definitely the right sort of kissing. The status quo gets too much support: the occasional shake-up of everyone's gender politics is a good thing.

The older I get, the more respect I have for Herbie Hancock.

Nearly got killed on the way home last night. Deliberately. Not on my part, obviously; I was was waiting at the head of a queue of traffic at a set of lights. There's two lanes - one left-turning, one straight ahead and right turning. I'm in the straight ahead lane. The lights change, we all start off, and this fuckwit blats down the left-turning lane and then cuts right out into the road straight ahead, cutting in front of the now-moving line of traffic, all doing about 40mph. Missed me by about a foot. I screamed some very rude words and put the hammer down, trying to catch him so I could break his windscreen with my D-lock. Funnily enough, I didn't catch him; it's actually pretty handy, because I was so hyped on andrenaline from the near-miss that I was going for a serious physical confrontation, and I haven't been in a fight for years. Basically, it was the sort of boy-racer driving move that in a car makes you think "Jesus! That was close!". But on a bike you're a bit more sensitised to this sort of thing: the worst that would have happened in a car is probably a moderate prang, but at the speed he was doing, if he'd hit me I'd have been lucky to get away with only one broken limb. I was still shaking when I got home.

A class full of kids walked past me at lunch. I was pleased to notice some of the six year-olds had one arm stuck out in front, mimicking an eyestalk, and were shouting "Exterminate! Exterminate!" in metallic voices.

One of Amdocs' slogans includes the phrase "providing the intentional customer experience". What? As opposed to the unintentional customer experience? "Actually, I meant to buy a goldfish, but since I'm here I'll take a Tier 1 telco billing system, thanks."

isotonic ho-hum June 20, 2005  

I was driving back from Canterbury this afternoon, and on the M25 a thought struck me: have all the people who believe that stuff about the Great Wall of China being the only human-made object you can see from space with the naked eye actually seen it? The M25 is big, wide and ugly. The Great Wall of China is big, quite narrow, and very long. On most sections, the Great Wall isn't more than about 6-7 metres wide at the top - say, two lanes of motorway. Being generous. I was soaking in the middle of 4-lanes each side tarmac M-road hell. If you were able to see the Great Wall from space, you'd be able to see the bloody motorway system.

Nice weekend out, though. Rebecca had her first time on a beach, at Broadstairs (though since she was in her party frock, we didn't let her paddle). Dora's 2nd birthday was very nice. Canterbury was beautiful. And the whole thing was conducted in 30 degree heat, which was both wonderful and incredibly energy-sapping at once. Rebecca had a wander around in Canterbury Cathedral, and went up the steps on her hands and knees - a number of the guides pointed out that this was authentic, as the pilgrims traditionally finished their pilgrimage by crawling up the steps to the shrine. Result.

Man, high of 31 degrees today; a day I spent a lot of time sitting in a non-airconditioned car in brilliant sunshine. I'm not built for this heat. I'm a honky, and I'm hairy with it. It's a brilliant combination for temperate climes; less so for this freak nice weather.

Now, I'm as happy as the next man to let people throw silly money at cycling kit (cf the mark-up on virtually any commercially available titanium frame), so I take a relaxed attitude to Rapha. OK, they're pitching at the high quality retro-freaks with money to burn - cool, bully for them. But come on: £80 for a pair of fucking gloves? You are, quite simply, 'avin' a laugh.

the inadvertent potato June 17, 2005  

I've just been gardening (my Drosera were getting a bit overgrown), and while briefly digging over the compost heap I discovered that one of the plants growing on it was - well - a potato. Whoops, I'd thought it was a tomato that'd self-seeded - but no, it's a spud, with several very nice looking new potatoes growing on the roots. I carefully replanted it - we'll have that in a couple of weeks, thank you very much. I love accidental vegetables.

For various reasons, we were discussing the handkerchief code in the office today. This came up in relation to allegations that the youth of today are using charity wristbands as coded signals as to their availability - white wristband meaning you're in a stable relationship, black meaning you've just broken up, yellow meaning you're very available, that sort of thing. So naturally the conversation turned to the handkerchief code; since we were in the office, we couldn't google to find out precisely which colour meant what. All I could remember was the phrase, "Purple is piercing!" - which just sounds like a children's book.

RIP Alessio Galletti. Deaths are rare in competitive cycling, but they do happen. Chapeau.

As Heather's mentioned, we've sold the house, subject to contract. That's a euphemism for "either party can back out at any time without suffering significant financial penalty." So fingers crossed, but chickens are not yet being counted. Anyone know of any good tech author or configuration management jobs coming up around Wellington in a couple of months?

your viewing figures just went up June 14, 2005  

A brief comment about the ongoing new series of Dr Who: it's much, much better than I'd thought it would be. It's really very good indeed. Very very good. Particularly enjoyed Bad Wolf, the episode broadcast this weekend. Russell T Davies is the best thing to happen to Dr Who for quite a while, I must say. All I can say about what he's done to Dr Who is [spoilers redacted out - select text to see] in the old school Dr Who, if one of the Doctor's companions was stark naked in front of a pair of death-crazed robots, they probably wouldn't pull a gun from a Certain Bodily Orifice and blow the robots away, still naked. Nor would he be portrayed as blatantly flirting with everyone, female and male alike, that he meets. But, man, does it work.

A brief comment about the IOC and the UCI: you pack of nitwits. OK, so BMX racing is becoming an Olympic sport - good stuff (if you've ever seen a BMX race, you'll know what an exciting blend of skill, lightning reactions, and athleticism is required), nice on. But for the IOC to then require that an existing cycling event be dropped to make room? And for the UCI to nominate the kilometre track time trial? Are they mad? The kilo is a great event: fast, extremely hard, and easy to understand. One rider: how fast can they cover a kilometre on the track from a standing start? It's incredibly hard work, compelling to watch, and one of the more accessible track events. They're mad to lose it.

We ended up having several viewings of the house on Saturday. Heather and I (though mainly Heather, as I was out walking with Rebecca when the calls started to come in) spent most of Saturday thoroughly cleaning the house and hiding things. Sorry, sorry - decluttering. Though since "decluttering" involves basically shoving things in wardrobes, it's really a short-term solution to the old "too much stuff" problem. Anyway, the viewings went well, so clearly the cleaning blitz worked. Not that we usually live an inch deep in filth or anything, but it was an excuse to do stuff like dusting the top of pictures, scrubbing the goldfish, polishing the glass tops on the chests of drawers - the sort of cleaning that you don't often get around to.

Excellent article in the Observer about "Dr" Gillian McKeith, who comes across as more barking mad, self-delusional, seriously underqualified, and just plain publicity-hungry than she does on telly - and that's impressive. Worth a read.

I was inhumane to man once. But he was inhumane to me first.

vada the omi's lallies June 08, 2005  

OK, I knew it was windy last Monday - but a tornado? Turns out that as I was doggedly cycling through the Cambridgeshire countryside, there was a tornado wending its merry way around the area around Wilburton/Ely. Which isn't quite where I was, but is under 5 miles away. While I don't think it had anything to do with the speed of my passage, it certainly adds a frisson to the ride in retrospect.

In the slightly harder cycling stakes, Thor Hushovd is following up on the form he showed in last year's TdF by winning stage 1 of the Dauphine Libere. Looks like he'll definitely be one to watch at this year's Tour - although he's probably not a serious contender for GC, he's looking good for a few stage wins. Depending on how many of the Italian sprinters survive the first week, mind. The Dauphine Libere is looking like a good race this year; lots of psychology from Team Discovery versus T-Mobile, with CSC nipping at their heels. Personally, I rate CSC much higher than T-Mobile - they're a much more cohesive team. One thing that Team Discovery, nee USPS, has shown is that it doesn't matter if you've got a really good star rider, you've got to have a seriously together team to back 'em up. T-Mobile have suffered from having too many good riders and not enough support for them.

Advertising lies! UK readers may remember a recent advertising campaign for Heinz Salad Creme. One of the ads depicted a tramp buying a bottle of salad creme, and then going out to rummage through the bins for scraps of food. The tagline being, "Any food tastes supreme with Heinz Salad Creme". Well, I was in the Co-op at lunch today, and the bloke in front of me in the queue was clearly a tramp (dirty, stained clothing, smelt strongly of cheap booze, ingrained filth on skin), and was buying precisely two items: a 3ltr bottle of cheap cider, and... a jar of Branston Pickle! Clearly advertising lies and Branston Pickle is the homeless' condiment of choice.

I arranged a flower once. It's pretty straightforward once you get your eye in.

sound of paper moving June 01, 2005  

Rebecca has now mastered both stepping over the back doorstep (it's about 1 1/2" high) and climbing the stairs. We have to be very careful to explicitly limit where and what she can access; otherwise, she can go from being cute in the living room to investigating the far end of the garden in 30 seconds. I've spent a contemplative evening putting child locks on the cupboards. I'm not sure if they'll slow her down, but they're certainly proving annoying to us adults. She's also started trying to play with Heather's pilates ball. Since she currently stands about two foot tall, and the ball has an approx 1m diameter, it's significantly bigger than her. In this context, "playing" is a very approximate term for "attempting to pick up". Mind you, the other day I was in the bedroom and heard Rebecca grunting with effort on the other side of the bed. I assumed that she was just doing one of her patented Mega-Nappies ("How do they fit so much in?"). Looking around, I saw her... trying to deadlift one of Heather's 4kg hand weights! She'd got one end off the ground, and was trying to heft the whole thing up, presumably so she could then lift it above her head and shout "Hupla!". She's our daughter all right. Her form wasn't bad, either.

About fifteen miles into my century yesterday, in the North Essex hills near Saffron Walden, I was on a singletrack road. A Land Rover approached from ahead - there was a passing place on the left so I pulled in. The landie stopped opposite me, and the bloke inside (fiftyish, rural accent, scruffy - i.e. typical farmer) leant out and said "Excuse me, mate, but have you seen any cattle on your travels?" "Err... no, not since Ickleton." I replied. "Damn," he said, "I reckon someone's rustled 'em."

There's a little bit of Western out there everywhere if you know where to look.

Low points of the ride: the section between Saffron Walden and St Neots, surprisingly. The weather suddenly turned to shit, it started blowing a serious headwind and raining hard, and I was just slow, wet and miserable. I'd thought it'd be one of the best bits of the ride, but it was 30 miles of dispiriting slog. Once I hit St Neots, I spent 20 minutes getting a control and a chocolate muffin in a petrol station, and things brightened up after that. It helped that they sold 'V' (go go Frucor Beverages Ltd of Auckland!), which gave me quite a physical and psychological boost. Other low point was - well, I should say that I rather like the East Anglian countryside. It's sneered at for being flat and dull, but I think that there's a lovely subtlety to it. Mostly. But between Sutton Gault and Earith, there's a 4 mile stretch of road running beside the Bedford Wash. Basically, these are two canals running parallel to each other, channeling the Ouse, with about 500m of flood plain between them. The canals are absolutely straight. The road is thus also perfectly straight. To one side, you've got the bank of one of the canals - so it's effectively a 12ft wall. To the other, you've got a perfectly flat expanse of cabbage fields as far as the eye can see. And because it's so flat, ahead of you you can see the junction that you're heading for. And it never gets any closer until you're right up to it. Trust me, when you're knackered this sort of thing does your head in.

Mind you, it was quite cool cycling past what I can only assume are farms growing grass turf. It was like the dullest golf course in the world: acre after acre of perfect green lawn, streching off into the distance, perfectly flat. And in the middle, a molehill. They must be spitting tacks.

And for the curious, the day afterwards: my knees are somewhat sore, I can feel my thighs a bit (but not too badly), and my hands and backside are a bit bruised. Otherwise OK after yesterday's adventure (7 hours in the saddle, fact fans!); an interesting side effect is that I've been ravenously hungry all day today. It's quite nice being able legitimately eat two lunches 90 minutes apart.

Brief bit of bike geekery now. The Big S have announced their updated 2006 Deore line-up. Deore's their middle of the road groupset: general purpose, not too heavy, not too light, pretty affordable (but not silly cheap) - what you'd expect to be specc'd on a £500 bike. I'm a big fan, as it's reliable, solid (the more high end stuff suffers from the "so light it breaks easily" syndrome), and reasonably priced. And it's just getting nicer. Notable inclusions in the Glorious People's Gruppo next year are integrated brake/shift levers, and hollowtech bottom brackets. Lovely things, those bottom brackets: side-steps the engineering problems inherent in the fixed (and relatively small) bottom bracket shell size by simply moving the bearing surfaces outside the shell and mounting them externally on each side. Cool side effect is that you end up able to look through the axle. If I were upgrading my chainset... but I'm not, due to the aforementioned toughness of Deore kit. It's a bit self-defeating, to be honest.

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