gale force commuting September 28, 2006  

Don't understimate warm feelings.

I was terribly disappointed by Fifi and the Flowertots - it was not (as I had hoped) Swamp Thing for the under-3s. It wasn't even Bob the Builder goes gardening, which is more like what I was expecting. It's just dire. It's really, really non-eventful. I was expecting more from the team behind Bob the Builder: in Bob, there's a basic plot, stuff has to be done, there's a bit of dramatic tension (will Bob and the team manage to do the stuff in time?), then a resolution. In Fifi and the Flowertots, things happen to brightly coloured characters. Then everyone sits around and has a honey sandwich. The end. What is this teaching our children? OK, essential randomness/arbitrary nature of life, but the role modelling isn't a par on Wendy from BtB (who is not Mrs Bob, but is an electrician and a full member of the team in her own right).

On the headphones: Hell's Winter by Cage. Heavy lyrics, heavy beats: good, solid hip-hop. A good combination of quite dark themes and lyrics, varying between heavy beats and some well catchy hummable tunes. Come for the collaboration with Jello Biafra/DJ Shadow, "Grand Ol' Party Crash", stay for the catchy filth of "Perfect World" and the shockingly honest song about his heroin-addict father "Stripes".

Also on the headphones: the very fine indeed Strategies Against Architecture: 1991-2001 by Einstürzende Neubaten. Excellent, excellent experimental and industrial stuff. There's one slightly jarring note, however: the track Anrufe in Abwesenheit is based around mobile phones and mobile phone interference on microphones. This was probably cutting edge when recorded, but now everyone has mobiles and we're all used to how it sounds when you get a text message when you've got the radio on. In balance, it just sounds slightly cheesy. I'm reminded of the documentary I saw once about Doctor Who, which included an interview with one of the costume/monster designers. He very sheepishly talked about the time that they needed a really futuristic looking monster, and they got hold of some of this incredibly new and exciting material that no-one had ever seen before, and basically just used that for the monster. This material was called "bubble wrap". And then they showed a clip of the monster, and it was really obviously just a guy who'd been wrapped in bubble wrap and was pretending to be a worm. More reminiscent of 2am at a student party than hiding behind the sofa territory. But, you know, at the time - cutting edge.

Once, I walked right in, sat right down and let my hair hang down. My hair blew in my face.

not just tight, we're ziplocked September 20, 2006  

Back when I was paying my way through varsity by tutoring first-year philosophy courses, I made a point of dividing the room up into arbitrary groupings and then assigning them positions to argue for or against. Otherwise, everyone either said nothing or one person would say something and then everyone else would nod gently in agreement, as though they'd thought of that but hadn't quite got around to saying it. Also, for some of the positions (particularly in the moral philosophy course) no-one would really want to defend them - and I didn't always want to act as the devil's advocate. Assigning positions to people depersonalised it, removed what they really thought (though we did discuss that at the end) and generally made it easier to get a discussion going.

This did not, however, always work. There were occasionally people who were completely incapable of seeing other points of view on an issue. This was always terribly frustrating. Philosophical discussions do not go far when someone bluntly asserts a proposition, refuses to defend it because "it's true", and then just looks mystified when you say that some people might not agree.

This sort of fundamental inability to comprehend that someone else might see things differently, or might interpret something in a different way, is endemic among technical people. In a business IT environment, this can lead to conversations like the following:

Me: This statement here is ambiguous - it could mean [x] or [y].
Technical person: It means [x].
Me: OK. So how can we rewrite this to make that clear?
Technical person: We don't need to rewrite it - it means [x].
Me: Yes, but it could also mean [y].
Technical person: But it means [x].
Me: Yes, but someone might think that it means [y].
Technical person: (slowly and deliberately, as if to a child) No - it means [x].

This is merely very annoying when the person in question is a developer assigned to help with documentation. This can be catastrophic if the person is a business analyst writing a detailed spec.

A brief comment on the proposed Hilton hotel on Wellington's waterfront: OK, a five-story hotel right there would be a bit of an eyesore, but have you seen what's currently there? It's a big, dilapidated shed that looks like a Norwegian fish-gutting factory. The argument that anything's an improvement is not without merit.

Now this is a genius tattoo: The Paper Bag Princess (NSFW if your work doesn't like boobies).

i got a big can of bitch-slap here September 18, 2006  

I was reading a paper the other day about issues around document metadata (and why you should strip as much metadata as you can out before you circulate anything externally). One of the issues that they highlighted was that metadata concerning which user actually carried out recent modifications - the "Last saved by" etc fields - could tip a client off to a mismatch between the consultant assigned to a project (and whose time is being billed for) and the person actually doing the work. So they're identifying one of the dangers of metadata being that it might give your clients a clue when you're ripping them off. I suppose that is a danger for some organisations, but should we be highlighting it?

I spent a happy couple of hours at the weekend hacking back one of our hedges. The hedge had been cut back to about 5 foot high a few years back, and had grown up from there. The old trunks(the original pruning height) were about four inches thick on average; the new growth was tall, leafy stalks up to about eight foot high and with branches up to one and a half inches thick. When Rebecca went to sleep after lunch, I grabbed the long-handled secateurs and got busy. A couple of hours later and the hedge had a serious case of pruned. I've only got about halfway down the length of the hedge, necessitating a rematch next weekend, but it's looking good. We're already getting a lot more sunlight in that side of the house (the aim of this was to get more light into Rebecca's room and the kitchen); once it's finished, we should have more sunlight and view. We now have a towering pile of cut branches in one corner of the lawn; one reason I knocked off when I did was that the pile of offcuts was definitely reaching the size where we needed an exit plan. And that's just another reason why I enjoyed myself: as I stood their contemplating the large pile of branches, it occurred to me that I could just hire a woodchipper and end up with a couple of yards of mulch for my pains. Result. So this weekend should hopefully involve firing up a petrol-driven woodchipper and going all Fargo.

about 54 inches September 15, 2006  

Gorblimey. On the way home tonight I passed a bloke riding a very nice Jamis singlespeed MTB. Singlespeeds, as the name implies, have only one gear. People tend to ride them because they're fun: it's like the bikes you had as a kid, with no worries about maintaining a complicated drivechain. You want to go faster, you pedal harder; you want to go slower, you brake. So anyway, this guy was blatting along doing some incredibly high RPMs in order to maintain a decent speed. The traditional singlespeed gearing is to use a 32-tooth front chainring and a 16-tooth rear cog (32x16); this is about equal to the middle gear in most 27-speed MTB gearing set-ups. This guy was running 22x11. Of course, that's mechanically equivalent to 32x16 (give or take really slight differences in amount of friction/leverage), but man does it look odd. It was like a full-size bike with the drivechain from a kiddies' tricycle. The only reason I can think of for doing that is some serious weight weenie motivation, trying to shave the additional grams that would be required for a bigger chainring/sprocket combo. Bit silly if so, but a nice bike otherwise.

onward! September 14, 2006  

The accomodation is booked and my entry is in the post: we are go for this year's Lake Taupo Cycle Challenge. See you all on the start line!

The entry forms are a bit depressing. I have absolutely no doubt about my ability to complete the ride (I've ridden longer), but I'm getting a bit worried about pace. The entry form invites you to select your start group based on how fast you think you'll do it. The fastest starting group is sub 4:15 (making an average pace of around 37.5kph - this is the group for the professionals or elite racers). The expected finishing times go up by about 20 minutes per group, until you get to the "and the rest of you" groups at the end. Group 7 covers those who think they'll take between 6:10 and 7 hours. That's average speeds of 26kph to 23kph, not including feed stops. I've done metric centuries before (100m, 160k, the length of this ride) and I tend to average around 8 hours. It was a bit sobering to realise that this put me into the second slowest category. Ah well - it's not the speed, it's the distance.

I'll admit to being slightly surprised at the ease with which we got accomodation. I'd heard that a tally of 10,000+ riders, families, support crews and assorted hangers-on tended to book Taupo solid, and my brief experiments with the online availability checks of various motels had confirmed that the weekend in question was completely booked. With that in mind, I sat down with a directory of motels in Taupo and resolved to ring through them in alphabetical order until I got somewhere with a free room. This is why we're staying in the Acapulco Motel, listed first in the directory, where we got the last room. Presumably the hotel isn't run by Aaron A. Aardvark, but you never know. Whole process took about 5 minutes.

I also note with interest that this year's event is including a 4-lap 640k option, for people who want to use it as a qualifier for the 2007 Paris-Brest-Paris. PBP is a 1200km event, and a condition of entry is that the rider has ridden a series of qualifying rides that must include a 600km brevet. So there should be a few tired-looking bods hitting the finish line.

she was a good dog September 13, 2006  

Our last remaining family dog died today. I helped Mum bury her. Rest in peace, Sylvia.

deliberate swerving, the bastards September 12, 2006  

Funny thing, personal hygiene.

It's generally regarded that daily bathing is a good thing. But when does too much become a bad thing?

For instance, at the moment, I have a shower under the following conditions.

• After getting up in the morning, if I'm not cycling to work.
• After any cycle ride over 20 minutes.
• After going to the gym.

So if I drive in to work (dropping R off at the nursery), I'll have one shower (first thing in the morning). If I cycle in, I'll have two (after getting to work, and after getting home). If I cycle in and then go to the gym I'll have three (arrival, gym, home). And, if I think I'm driving in and then change my mind and cycle instead, plus hitting the gym at lunch, I could conceivably have four showers in a day. One of them cold, as the hot water at the gym is still stuffed.

So little by little, increment by increment, I'm turning into a giant raisin.

Roll on Daylight Savings time. The day lurches forward an hour, and suddenly our lives change. We have time in the evenings to do stuff in daylight; gardening after dinner, washing the bikes, just sitting out and reading. The mornings change too. Instead of Rebecca running in at the unholy hour of quarter to six, she'll be in at quarter to seven - which is a lie-in these days. OK, in one sense, no change; but it'll make an important psychological difference.

Having had a white van deliberately swerve left to try to run me into a parked car on the way home today, I was interested to catch up on the latest research on how closely cars pass - which suggests that wearing a helmet is actually putting you in danger. Worth reading for the alternative suggestion of how to be safe on the road: drivers give you more room if they think you're female, so wearing a long wig increases your safety. Yes, really.

In other news: lead Tory David Cameron made a speech in which he roundly criticised the US and Britain's close ties to it, while simultaneously claiming that the Tories would still back the US to the hilt. Presumably a key Tory campaign plank is now the reduction of UK/US obedience levels from Slavish to Puppylike. No word on whether the US president's prerogrative to take the Prime Minster up the arse would be revoked: a compromise solution, fellatio on demand, would probably be involved. Though, of course, the PM would have to swallow - the US have learnt their lesson about semen-stained clothing. W can definitely learn from the mistakes of his predecessors. If not his own.

we can race them September 08, 2006  

Sometimes, bad things happen to good people. Many condolences and much thought.

Steve has an excellent post on cycling in Auckland, and why cycling on the footpath is a bad idea. I should point out that I wholeheartedly agree with his reasoning: cycling on the footpath alienates people, is surprisingly risky, and both encourages and legitimises the perception of cyclists as second-class road users. Relatedly, Matt Seaton makes a good point about feckwit cyclists who ignore the road rules. This is another of my bugbears: I can't stand watching idiots run red lights, just because they're on a bike. Couriers, I'm looking in your direction.

And in bike-tech: the new Shimano Alfine groupset looks well mint. It's got the two things that I want to see on a gruppo for a bulletproof commuter: 8-speed rear hub gear, and hub dynamo on the front. Hub gears make a lot of sense, simply in terms of maintainability and chain life (derailleurs can get gummed up with crud and can be finicky to adjust, plus the side-to-side movement of the chain increases wear). Unless you're racing, 8 speeds are all you need, provided that the gear spread is sufficient - that is, the difference between the lowest and highest gears is big enough. The extra gears would only be used to minimise the difference between gear ratios, allowing for smoother power transfer as you shift (if each gear isn't too different from the others, you can maintain a relatively constant number of revs through the changing effort), which isn't that big a priority for simple A-B biking. As long as you've got the gears to go up a big hill and then roar down the other side, you're golden (the Sturmey-Archer 3-speed ruled the world, and won a lot of races, in its time). Combine this with a front hub dynamo, for reduced drag and bright lights that you never need to remember to recharge or worry about running out of battery, and you're onto a winner. Disk brakes for the bling factor, and you've got all you need for a mid-to-high end low maintenance commuter. Whack on a set of 29" wheels, a good frame and maybe a carbon fork and you've got something that I'd be very happy to roll down the hill on.

Of course, 'Alfine' is a terrible name. But it's a small price to pay.

On the headphones this week: Entertainment through Pain, Throbbing Gristle's greatest hits. Drift drift klang klang screech etc. The whole creepy half-heard voices thing is perhaps less effective on headphones in an office - the sensation that you can't quite hear something that someone else is saying is how I feel most of the time I've got headphones on, anyway. I keep wanting to say "Pardon?" But you gotta admit, 'Hot on the heels of love' is a great track.

Watched V for Vendetta last night, and was pleasantly surprised. I'd heard that it was mediocre; I thought it was an excellent update of the original. They played around with it a bit, but most of the updates served to bolster the underlying themes and re-contextualise them in today's world (rather than Thatcherite Britain). But the thing that made it for me - apart from the entirely faithful adaptation of Evey's interrogation sequence, including one of the best lines in comics ever ("I'd rather be shot behind the chemical sheds") - was that V never removed his mask. No annoying Judge Dredd style revisionism here: V stayed anonymous, unseen, unsaid. He could have been anyone, and that was the movie's ultimate message of hope. That it didn't matter who V was, that he was an idea, he was anyone and everyone (hence the excellent unmasking sequence at the end that will have some of the thicker members of the audience asking "so didn't they die then?"). It's the flip-side to the banality of evil: the idea that although we do all contain it within ourselves to be evil, unthinking drones, we also all hold ideas of freedom, self-sacrifice, and liberty. And that's the underlying hope of the movie.

And on the first media interviews with that Austrian girl who escaped from years of captivity... is it me, or is it really creepy how a number of the media comments on the case mention that she's attractive? Whenever I hear a news report mention that she's good looking, I hear a subtext of "OK, he was a psychotic nutcase who abducted a child and kept her in twisted captivity for eight years... but at least he didn't pick one that was a complete biffer, eh? I mean, abducting a girl, keeping her as a prisoner and sexually abusing her, it's a bit odd, but picking an ugly girl - now that'd be really incomprehensible."

it's a gas September 05, 2006  

As befits my status in life, and as an arguable attempt to recapture some of the atmosphere of Cambridge, I have joined a club. And that's club in the old-school sense: polished brass and oak railings, sitting around after work drinking martinis and networking, billiard room, proper standard of dress required, etc. Specifically, I've joined the Wellesley Club. This may surprise all of you who know me as a hairy tattooed hippy - why is Jack going to hang with the breadheads in the relaxation wing of suit central? And won't he stick out like a sore thumb?

The reason is simple.

The Wellesley includes a "health club", viz a smallish gym. And for $50 per month (call it £13, or significantly less than most other gyms in town) I've joined for the health club only. And the Wellesley has that quality most beloved of estate agents: location, location, and thrice location. It is literally across the road from my work. The gym is approximately fifteen metres horizontal distance from my desk: I can, quite literally, lean back slightly when I'm working and look over to check whether anyone's using the leg press machine. Although the gym is pretty small, it's got everything I need, and it's rarely crowded. So I can run across at lunch, do a hard workout, shower, and be back at my desk within the hour. So that's why I've joined an establishment that would probably drum me out for swearing in the lobby or wearing shorts through the front door.

Mind you, having been off the gym for the better part of a year, I'm currently in the throes of an extremely bad case of DOMS. I took it fairly cautiously when I started back, and lifted at a level that I was sure wouldn't cause embarassing mid-set failures (though that said, I've lost a lot of reps off my dips), but the overall result is that my pectorals are currently feeling as though they're been drawn on me in lines of fire. I should be toughened back up and spun up to speed in a couple of weeks, but in the meantime it's all a bit tender.

Amusingly, after last week's comments, I took Rebecca into the pet shop on Saturday afternoon, and they did in fact have a pekinoodle in stock. Lovely-looking wee dog.

Spring has sprung, and so has a gas leak. One consequence of Wellington's well-publicised gas woes is that the road is being dug up in numerous locations around town. Around every 200 metres throughout the CBD and along the waterfront as far as Kaiwharawhara there's a traffic-coned section of tarmac with a dirty great big hole in it, often with someone something esoteric with the gas lines. But these holes, they're everywhere - literally around every corner in the CBD. The funnel effect they tend to have on traffic has certainly made it more interesting riding in.

That, and I can only have cold showers after the gym. Invigorating.

Another good man done gone. This is one of those cases where it's not so much "it's the way he would have wanted to go" as "it's the way that everyone always thought he would go".

trust me, this could have been far worse September 01, 2006  

On my way in to work, I cycle past a branch of the pet shop chain Animates. They have a sandwich board outside, on which they advertise whatever cute animal they've got in at the moment. And all I can say is, they must know someone with a poodle that just can't say no.

They started off a month or two back with a labradoodle (labrador x poodle). Then a spoodle (spaniel x poodle). More recently there's been a boodle, and then they gave up and just started putting up the actual parentage - possibly after calling a bichon friese x poodle a 'boodle', they were stumped by the cairn terrier x poodle that they're currently advertising. What is this? Are poodles the slags of the dog world, or what? How come all the dogs they sell have some form of poodle in them? Or is it the other way around, and there's one particularly smooth male poodle (let's call him Clinton, say) who's made it his personal mission to spread the gene pool as much as possible?

Regardless, I think they're showing poor form by not continuing the -oodle trope. I think the bichon friese x poodle should have been a bichon froodle, not a boodle. But can you imagine the possibilities?

Pekinese x poodle = pekinoodle.
Dalmation x poodle = doodle. If you had it in a houndstooth pattern dog coat, it could be a tweedle doodle.
Schnauzer x poodle = schnoodle.
And, by extension: ((schnauzer x poodle) x (dalmation x poodle)) x ((weimarener x poodle) x (bichon friese x poodle)) = schnoodle doodle froodle woodle.

And if you had a big litter of them, and you put them all in houndstooth pattern dog coats, you'd have oodles of tweedle schnoodle doodle froodle woodles.

On a slightly more serious (and less Fox in Socks) note, we met a spoodle in the Botanic Gardens the other day. It was a really, really good wee dog: friendly, happy, energetic, and gorgeous.

William Fotheringham's new book, Roule Brittania: A History of Britons in the Tour de France is out now. I enjoyed Fotheringham's book about the Tour per se (he's the Times' cycling correspondent), so I'll be interested to read this. Which reminds me: when's the Kennett Brothers' next book in the excellent NZ Cycling Legends series out?

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