Storm Damage – revisited

Since the now-infamous wind-chime incident (three people who’ve visited me since have stage-whispered outside “Are they the wind-chimes?“), I think my neighbour knows they piss me off.

She’s not just re-hung the ones at the front of her house, she’s put some at the back as well. Last night was windy. I wonder how long it’ll take before another “really strong gust of wind” happens?

Something tells me that the low numbers will win on this one…

Mysterious

Of all the weird things my current employer (for want of a better word) and it’s staff get up to, I’ve decided that I really don’t want to know what stroke of genius made one of the men drop the shell from a hard-boiled egg into the toilet today.

Merry Christmas Indeed

While we’re on the subject of the happy Festering Season™, ScaryDuck mentions the true festive joy that is My Miserable Christmas. Tales of woe and misery from the season, and I’m amazed that there’s only 80-odd additions so far. I’m willing to bet there’s a lot more by the time Santa gets on his sleigh and batters Rudolf with the whip again.

Travel through the Festering Season™

I know that I ranted about this same subject last year, so I’m not going to go off on one too much. But yet again, the fucking cretinous retards who make a housebrick look intelligent planning genii (that’s the plural of genius, I think) of the Rail companies have decided that they should do a shitload of maintenance work. In December. Between the 25th December and the 2nd January.

What a stroke of stunning intelligence. I know – when are most members of the public likely to want to use trains? Between Christmas and New Year, so they can see family, travel to wherever for New Year, all that kind of thing. So let’s replace half the services with fucking buses, while still charging people the same as for travelling on a train. National Express must be pissing themselves with laughter. A bus service instead of train will take the same time as their service, only it’ll cost a shedload more, for fuck-all benefits.

Consider the difference – a sample journey from Manchester to London Victoria, travelling down on the 24th December, coming back on the 28th. I’m looking at prices when booked 24 hours before travelling. National Express – £30.99 Trains – £178.20 In fairness, if I book it further in advance, the train service comes down to &pound53.20 – but that’s still nearly twice as much as the coach service. Madness.

Glastonbury

Yes, Glastonbury will be going ahead in 2004. Great. What still confuses me though is why the people who protest about it every year insist on staying there. It’s been going for nearly 30 years – it’s not like people don’t know it’s there.

So – unless you actually enjoy pissing and moaning – why live in a place where there’s a festival every year?

Third Generation

Two months ago I bought a new phone (the Motorola A920, this time on the Three network. At the time I promised to write a review of it once I’d had it for a while. So here we go.

In general, I’ve been very pleased with both the phone and the network. Yeah, the little franchise shops are utterly shit, and their customer services department lives in India, but the phone service itself has been pretty spot on. When you’re in an area with no 3G service, the phone degrades to the O2 network, so you can still make calls, send email, write/receive text messages, and all the normal gubbins. But it’s when it’s in a 3G-covered area that the phone – unsurprisingly – comes into it’s own.

I’ll freely admit, I probably haven’t even used half the 3G facilities on any form of regular basis. The phone itself has GPS, and you can use this to locate where you are, and then tell you the nearest pubs, restaurants, taxi companies, cinemas, even cash machines – and a whole host of other services. And as time goes on, there’ll be more and more things being added. It’s surprisingly useful, particularly when (as I have been a couple of times since getting the phone) you’re in a place with no idea of local numbers etc.

The downloadable film-clips and music videos aren’t of that much interest to me so far – but I’ve checked weather reports and local/national news a couple of times, and I have to say that the quality is hugely impressive. (On an utterly geeky side, the future for this phone will also include being able to connect up to my TiVo, grab a film or recorded programme from there, store it on the phone and watch it while travelling.) The screen on the phone is big enough that it’s not a struggle to watch, and it’s another useful function.

For me and my uses, the feature of 3G that was of most interest to me was the ability to email and get web-access through the phone. And the email’s good – it’s been very handy a couple of times for sending messages to people without needing to break out the laptop and all the extra gubbins. The web access is – for now – not that good. Three has basically ring-fenced a small area, and that’s the only place you can play. They’ll be opening it up, but initially I think they’ve been trying to get people to use their own content rather than going anywhere else.

It’s not all been perfect – there have been irritations along the way. The connecting between phone and PC was an utter cunt, until I realised I needed to connect the power lead into the data-cable itself, rather than into the charger. That’s something that’s not detailed anywhere, and is a matter of trial and error. Once it was sorted though, the two have happily communicated and backed each other up. One thing I’d wanted in the new phone – and had been told this one had – was Bluetooth. It doesn’t – although allegedly it’ll be available in early 2004, with a firmware fix. I’m not holding my breath.

On occasion, the phone crashes too – and there’s no visible rhyme or reason to it. It’s frustrating, and it’s down to the phone rather than the user – the two other people I know with the same phone have similar problems. However, for a network that’s been in existence for less than a year, I can forgive most of these small problems.

In conclusion, I’d probably give Three about 7.5 out of 10 so far. The stuff they’ve got is pretty impressive – but it needs to be opened up for real-world access. Customer Services are good, if slow – however you look at it, there’s a language barrier when it comes to changing your billing address, for example. The Three shops themselves are – well, in general, shit. But there are some that are helpful, and some even have – gasp! – tills. The phones and battery lives are already improving, and will continue to do so.

Would I give a Three phone as a present this Festering Season? No – probably not. Next year, however – well, we’ll see.

Cleaning Day

Muppet that I am, I recently swapped over from Outlook Express to Outlook for my email. There was a good reason for this – amazing, I know. The Three phone I’ve got connects to the PC, and can back up it’s address book etc. – but only with Outlook, not Outlook Express.

Anyway, while I was at it, I discovered that I’d got a whole shed-load of duplicate addresses, or loads of records for one person, but all with different email addresses. So this evening I’ve sorted it all out, and it makes sense now. I should now get my phone nicked tomorrow…

The Countdown Has Begun

Can I just take this opportunity to point out that it’s now 26th November, and in one month’s time, Christmas will officially be over? In six week’s time, all the decorations will be burning merrily on a fire taken down, and the shops will be full of sales, Valentine’s Day cards, and Easter Eggs. Fantastic – some semblance of sanity will once again be with us.

Devious

Seeing the story today about Ian Huntley ‘admitting’ some of the things he’d done to the two girls it’s almost certain he murdered, I find myself wondering why he’s waited ’til now to admit these things. I’m admittedly cynical, but I wonder what game he’s playing – and I’m sure he’s playing a game with all the people around him.

I find myself thinking that he’s possibly just making the families and friends go through the entire thing again, having to stand up in court and face him so he can see their grief and loss. When it comes to the end of the case, I think he’s going to change his plea to guilty on all counts.

Zzzzzzzzz

Being a gobby git, I finally went to bed at 3.30 this morning. To sleep at about 4.30, and then was up again at 7. Having then been working on CSS gubbins all day, my brain is not strictly with it. I really need to sort out my body-clock and workload, as well as remembering that even when I’m not tired, at least laying on/in bed is a good idea.

2003/4 – Chinese year of the Geek

Blatantly nicked/followed from Meg and Gordon, the MSNBC online IQ test tells me my techie IQ is *blush* 187.

I am SO sad. I need to get out more.

Depressing

One section of d4d™ that started off with good intentions and never really got any further was the section on HIV and AIDS. Entirely my own fault – it was one of those “don’t quite know where to start” moments.

Even so, it still saddens and amazes me that HIV infections have risen 20% in the last year. That’s a scary figure – what’s happened to all the adverts that used to be on about HIV, condoms, how infection happens, so forth, so fifth?

With World Aids Day just round the corner, I suspect we’ll see more of these stories over the next few days.

Twunts

You’d never think it was rocket science, would you? All I want to do is buy a different case for my Motorola Three phone. On Friday I went into the little Three store (well, franchise, I think), waited quarter of an hour while the dumb twunt in the store tried to manage dealing with one customer (failing abysmally in the process) before giving up. Who’d have thought multi-tasking was such a strenuous task?

I tried again this morning. First thing – no customers, three members of staff. Should be a doddle.

Um no. They don’t accept cash. “Oh sorry, we don’t have a till.” I despair.

Linkin Park – MEN Arena

I was highly naffed off at missing linkin Park when they played the Manchester Apollo earlier this year, so when I knew they were playing the MEn I got tickets fairly quickly. I know, I realy need to get out less.

Support tonight came from Kinesis (who I missed *hangs head in shame*) and Lost Prophets, who were pretty good. The sound quality let them down massively, but they still managed to do well at warming up the audience. I’d never heard their stuff before, but I can see I might be downloading some test-tracks, see if they sound better when not in a shithole like MEN.

The entire atmosphere changed when Linkin Park came on though. The stage-set was impressive – and flippin’ huge, spanning the arena, and reaching out into the side areas where the audience were seated as well. More impressively, they made use of the entire stage – it’s not often you see an entire band as mobile and energetic as this one. Recently I’ve noticed a propensity for bands to go back to wired guitars etc., which limits the movement quite significantly. From what I could tell, all of the band were using radio mikes rather than wired, and so they were able to make use of the entire space, particularly the two singers, and the “roving guitarist”.

On this occasion, the photos really don’t do justice to the concert at all – on a total tangent, I’m getting more and more pissed off with the limitations of the current camera, and it’s going to be upgraded before long, I’m sure. The lighting throughout the show was superb, and the sound quality was spot on – hard to believe it was the same system that the Lost Prophets had sounded so (comparatively) shit on.

Linkin Park were only on for about 80 minutes total – but in fairness to them, that’s their entire two albums-worth, as well as a couple of new tracks, so I can’t really fault them for that. Also, from the sheer energy they put into the show, they must have been knackered by the end of it. It was a storming show, perfect sound and lighting, exceptional crowd response, and more energy than the local power station.

Oh, and anyone who doesn’t believe that Chester’s voice really can cover that incredible range – you’re wrong. It’s scary to see, and the only other person I’ve ever seen with an equivalent vocal range is Diamanda Galas – and believe me, that’s a complimentary reference. Hugely impressed.

Policy

Of all the tedious things to write, particularly on a day when the brain just wants to be back in bed, Privacy policies and the like are high on the list. Explaining things like IP Addresses and Cookies is no fun either…

The next breakdown will be arriving shortly.

Blah. I’m sure I could come up with a more descriptive word – but for now Blah will have to suffice.

Among many other things, I think I’ve hit a place where burnout is just about next on the agenda. Last night (well, technically this morning) seems to have been the proof of that. An unutterably lousy night’s “sleep”, which vaguely kind of started-ish at about 4.30am, and was then thoroughly disturbed during the next couple of hours until the alarm went off. Then two hours of semi-decent sleep, which unfortunately meant I woke up just before 9am. Ug.

As of now, my weekend is cancelled. I’m seeing Linkin Park tonight, then when I get home there’ll be wine and/or vodka, and then I have every intention of just turning off the alarm clock, and sleeping ’til whenever. (Hmmm – maybe I should turn off alarms before drinking?) I need to. Currently, curling up and dying seems like such a good idea…

Bloggius Meeticus

Well, the second Mancunian Blogmeet® went pretty well. It was good to see Jane and Adrian joining the motley crew. Damn, we must be getting organised or something.

Thankfully, Topper has maintained his reputation for an encyclopaedic (with, in this case the emphasis on “paed” *Grin*) knowledge of vile jokes, culminating in one about the difference between a pint of Guiness™ and Michael Jackson. Thankfully, from there the conversation happily climbed back up to gutter level, and included such diverse topics as James Bond theme songs and most embarassing concerts (and I don’t care what they say, someone admitting to seeing Mariah Carey three weeks ago runs pretty high on that list, although Chris‘s confession of seeing David Essex was judged to be the overall winner – oh, and Jane, the series was “The River“, and the woman was Katy Murphy *pats IMDB*). Along the way, the Magnum PI theme was played and identified, as were many others. Air instruments came up in conversation (including Air Accordion and Air Harp, all topped off by an exceptional rendition on the Air Bagpipes) as well as the fact that I still want to know what sound a bagpipe player makes when kicked in the knackers mid-rendition.

Some of the lightweights left early, but Sarah, Jane and myself stayed ’til 2. And yes, Sarah was hungover this morning, even having been drinking shandy all night…

We’re thinking about organising a Northern Meet for somewhere around the Festering Season™, although due to time constraints etc., it’s likely now to be mid-January before everything can be co-ordinated. So perhaps a Northern “It’s over for another year” Meet? Leave comments here, or at Lori’s place (when the comments aren’t kippered) if you’re interested, and we’ll try to figure out a decent date for a bigger meet…

Blockage

My brain’s on strike. I’ve been working with validating a site to XHTML all day – and now it finally works. Yay. But Ye Gods what a faff. And now my brain’s shut down and gone home, so work is even less of a priority. I really should be more responsible and less reprehensible – but like that’ll ever happen.

Blogmeet

Yes, another one. Tonight, 8pm, FAB Cafe (again). Should be good. And I’m pretty sure Adrian and Jane will be making it along this time too. Yay!

Westonbirt

As well as everything else that’s been going on today, I also finally got round to uploading a few of the photos I took on the weekend at Westonbirt Arboretum over the weekend.

There’s still loads that I could’ve uploaded, but I thought I’d gauge the boredom threshold before doing many more of them. Be thankful for small mercies.

Shite

Yes, while twonking and adding the Link and Think banner to d4d™ again today, I utterly stuffed the template for a few minutes. Bugger. Sorry about that.

In the meantime, click on the banner image, and transport yourselves to link and think. Only a couple of weeks now ’til World AIDS Day

Westonbirt

The visit to Westonbirt Arboretum yesterday was fantastic. The concept of trees illuminated at night may sound bizarre, but in reality it was fantastic. Photos will follow – I took about a hundred, but I suspect that a fair number of them are shaky enough to look like they were taken by a mid-fit epileptic, so they’ll be consigned to the Recycle Bin of history.

In fact, the only thing that had the potential to spoil the evening was the other people. Fucking whiny Welsh twats aside (and thanks, by the way, for leaving your red-eye reduction flash operating on your camera – the trees don’t have eyes, you tosspot, whereas the people around you did.) I’ve rarely seen more people in one area who all deserved a smack in the mouth. In fairness, I don’t mind the kids as much in this kind of situation – it’s pretty natural for them to run around playing and so on. What I do object to is the kind of foghorn-esque conversations about what Jim’s going to have for dinner when they get home, what happened in church this morning (If you go to church you should appreciate the strength of being fucking quiet while contemplating some of God’s Natures best bits), whether “they” really should pave all the paths, rather than leaving them uneven and natural (for fuck’s sake, if you don’t like it, don’t bother visiting gardens!), and I don’t give a blue blazing shit how cute Little Fucking Johnny looks when he’s running round the trees and jumping on their stumps.

Maybe it’s elitist, but personally I’d rather have paid twice as much, and only had half the number of people there. Whoever it was who said “Hell is other people” won’t hear any argument from me after last night…

Branding, Branding, Branding.

I wonder if the new logo for the London 2012 Olympic bid was one that came from the creative minds of What Brand Are You? ( as also featured in the piece about “some people took branding site seriously“.

Ooops

Well, it’s not just other people who are chuff-heads, obviously. I’d written a piece on the train so I could load it up to d4d when I got home. And I forgot. What a gimp.

The Answer

Yes, of course, it was Virgin Trains. Not really a shocking answer, I know. But there we go. And I’m back at their mercy tomorrow. Oh joy, oh happiness, oh lucky lucky me.

Extortion

Fifty minutes later than expected. A lot more money than it should’ve been. Utterly shit service. Fuck all food. Guess who I’m talking about?

Temptation to rant

Further to speculations about what else I might find that pisses me off between now and 2004, I’m sure there are plenty of subjects that’ll do it.

Transport (Sarah‘s bet)is pretty much a certainty, particular with the potential for strikes over the Festering Season™.

Council Tax? Ah, Peter, how little you know me… Since moving to the new area, the council tax is completely paid up – well, until April. Unless they’ve made a right bugger’s muddle of the entire thing. (OK, fair point, it’s probably likely that I’ll be ending up with a snotty letter before year end)

As for Jehovah’s Witnesses, Peter’s second guess, well – who knows. They don’t celebrate the Festering Season™ which puts them one up in my book, compared to the bloody Christians. Besides, when they come to the door I either tell them I’m just off to give blood, or try converting them myself. I love answering the door to them and saying “Hello, can I interest you in double glazing?” – just turning the tables on them is pure comedy.

I’m more likely, actually, to rant about Morons Mormons on their Mission, or bloody fucking Hare Krishnas than Jehovahs, to be honest. And don’t even get me started on the sodding Scientologists…

So – who else do you think I’ll end up ranting about? Obviously shops and the Festering Season™ are no-brainers, transport’s pretty certain. Idiocy in the workplace is another high-odds enterprise, but what else is there in the Lyle Ranting pantheon? Or will there be new ideas for me to think about and go for?

Genius

The council I’m currently working for has just sent out a survey with it’s monthly payslips. This survey is to see how people feel about their employer, what they would like to see done to improve the workplace, that kind of thing. By necessity, this survey is anonymous, with no unique identifiers at all.

However, to encourage people to fill in the survey, each completed survey will be entered into a prize draw.

It was only today, once the surveys had gone out, that anyone thought to ask “how will we know who’s won the draw?“

Storm Damage

I would like to apologise to my next door neighbour. Actually, I wouldn’t – it’s all her fault anyway. Last night was – well, pretty bloody windy, and as such there’d been severe weather warnings (although whether that’s a warning about severe weather, or a severe warning, I have no idea) to say so. Gusts up to 60 or 70mph, blah blah blah.

And yes, for once they got it right – it was bloody windy. No idea on wind speeds, but it was gusty enough to be believable at that kind of speeds. And my neighbour has – well, technically had would be more accurate – wind-chimes hanging from the tree in her front garden.

By 3am it was beyond a joke. I think an extra-strong gust of wind must have broken the string holding the wind-chime to the tree. Not helped at all by scissors. No sir. I’m a good neighbour – wouldn’t think of doing anything like that. Honest.

Travelling

As Sarah astutely pointed out in the comments yesterday, it’s been a while since there was a decent (or, more accurately an indecent) piece about transport. However, I’m vaguely optimistic that the situation may be rectified tomorrow, when I’m travelling to Reading with – you guessed it – Virgin Trains. Oh goody, how lucky do I feel?

As it is, while there we’ll be visiting Westonbirt Arboretum for their “Illuminated Trail” – basically plants and trees with lights. Typically, their website has no bloody pictures, so I’ll take some of my own.

I’ll also try to add in a couple of longer pieces again – the joys of between six and eight hours on a train, plus late nights etc., although they may not get uploaded ’til Monday. We’ll see. And in the meantime, I’ll also be upgrading my Dreamweaver installs to MX2004. Which’ll be fun. no, really, it will.

Constructive

So far, today’s been an infinitely better day than yesterday. The PHP stuff is working much better – I’ve given up on using DreamWeaver for most of it, and just writing the necessary by hand. The learning curve is rather reminiscent of a cliff, but that’s nothing unusual either. Instead I’m finding the difference between = and == (and === , although I’m not planning on using that one) and I’ve already managed to get some of the necessary stuff written, tested, and working.

Various epithets have been used in the development process – like, there’s a shocker – but at the end of the day it’s worked and I’m happy with it.

Obstructive

If someone were to tell me that today is “a day of celebration for the unutterably crap” I really wouldn’t be surprised. It’s also a day that should be sponsored by the manufacturers of high-blood-pressure pills.

All day I’ve been cursing a combination of 34sp (the hosting company for another couple of websites as well as d4d™), Macromedia’s Dreamweaver and PHP. In short, the stuff I need to do is on a site hosted by 34sp, using pHP, and pox-ridden shuff-sitling Dreamweaver won’t farking connect to the site at all for PHP use. Pigging thing. The incredibly helpful error message of “an unidentified error has occurred” isn’t exactly helpful when it comes to fault-finding and trouble-shooting either.

Also in the running for the infamous “shitbag of the day” award are two crews of mentally deficient customer services people. First of all, say hello to Halifux. A week ago I contacted them about an account that had been fraudlently applied for in my name – at which time they promised to send out all the relevant paperwork. Luckily I didn’t hold my breath while waiting for it to arrive – so today I called them, gave them the address information etc., only to be told “we’ve no record based on the address. Haven’t you got the account number?” – frankly, no, I haven’t, because I forgot the bloody piece of paper. However, the address/postcode/surname combination should work, except that the cerebrally relaxed operator who took the initial details has obviously managed to stuff them up. So it’ll wait ’til I get home, and then I get to call the ‘tards all over again. Oh joy, oh happiness, oh lucky me.

Second, a big hairy extended digit to the customer services department of Three, the 3G phone network. I needed to change my address with them, and get another copy of the latest bill sent to me. Definitely nowhere near rocket science. Of course, it’s too complicated to have customer services details like that on the bloody website – why would anyone want to use that? So it’s on the phone to “333” , the Three customer services department. First of all, an incomprehensible automated system that’s supposed to filter calls, and actually seems more suited to “you’re not coming in” levels of security. Finally it connects to a human being. In India. Twenty focking minutes of call, just for two things. I ended up spelling the street name letter-by-letter, having repeated it eight times already.

Amazingly, so far I haven’t actually really sworn once. It’s chuffing tempting though…

Ideas

Another thing I really must stop doing – or at least do in a more productive fashion – is having ideas. While working away on other things today, my brain’s been planning out how to do a decent “to-do” list for another client of mine, where the on-line list can be accessed, items added, amended, deleted, or crossed off, as well as a selection of other useful functions. I’ve got the schematic for it in my head now – but I’ve had to be thinking about it today because it simply popped into my head while talking with the client, and they were – shall we say – rather more enthused than I’d expected.

So I either need to stop having ideas, or learn not to say whatever’s on my mind. I’m not sure which option is going to be the easiest.

Impulse

One thing I do need to now stop doing ’til New Year is the impulse purchase of DVDs and CDs on the day of release. Well, there’ll be one exception to that – when the Alien Quadrilogy is released, I’m buying it. Then again, it’s expensive enough that I wouldn’t expect anyone else to buy it for me – but all four Alien films, remastered, redone, extended, and in double-disc sets, plus another disc of interviews etc., well, it’s a must-have.

But having bought the X-2 DVD yesterday, I’m now going to make an effort to not purchase anything else ’til 2004. It’s probably inherently doomed for any number fo reasons, but at least it gives me some ideas when friends/family start saying “what do you want for the Festering Season™?” (and the answer “a months induced coma” is deemed unacceptable, as is “the ability to hibernate”, or “simple – a shotgun and unlimited ammunition”)

We’ll just have to see how it goes though…

Pub(l)ic Information

Again, relating to Bottom Live, if you’re in Manchester and missed the shows in the last week, they were advertising that there’s going to be another performance at the Apollo on the 12th December. So there.

ATMs

No, it’s not the pre-christmas season that’ll stuff my blood-pressure, nor is it the Festering Season™ in general. Even the bloody big-issue sellers and shonky market-stalls full of flammable tinsel won’t do it.

What’s guaranteed to do it though is the frinkhuffing bastards who still can’t use cash machines. They’ve been around – and utterly commonplace – for a good fifteen years now, yet still there are braindead parasite scumwads who’ve got stuff-all clue.

Today was a case in point. I wanted to take money out. No problem. There’s only one person in front of me. Typically, the other machine in the bank lobby is norked. So, no worries, she won’t take long.

Oh bugger, she’s trying to pay money in to the machine. Always a bit more long-winded. Christ knows why she’s doing it this way – for the first time in aeons there’s no queue on the counter, so she could be paying it in there. But no, she’s using the ATM. Bonus, she must’ve had the envelope all ready, so she should be organised. *cue the sound of the gods in a fit of hysterical giggles*

At this point I should observe that when paying in money, you have to type the amount into the ATM, on it’s little keypad. This keypad doesn’t have a decimal point. You just type the numbers – it’s about as rocket-science as putting socks on.

She types the amount. £120.00 – then tries to type the pence in, so we end up with £12000.23. Fair enough, it’s an easy mistake if you don’t do it often. So she clears it. And types the same again. £120.00. Clear. Types again. Exactly the same thing. Six times, this happens. Not even any variety – it’s as though she thinks the machine will eventually have pity on her for being a ‘tard, and will just give in and do it for her. The concept of no decimal point, just type in the numbers, simply never occurs to the dim bovine. It’s easier to keep on making the same mistake.

*Deep breath*

Look, just type in 12023. Nothing else.
*types* 1.. 2.. 0..
Now just the 23
*types* 2… 3…
Oh, I see. Thank you. *simpering grin* I’d have been here all day getting it wrong.
Oh, don’t I know it.

Is it unreasonable to believe that some people should just be not allowed out without minders?

Whistle while you work

Over on Naked Blog, Peter has been writing of his surprise that I (and others) use headphones and music in the workplace. It could all get horrendously self-referential here, but frankly, I can’t be bothered to do so.

As regular readers will already know, I’m currently working (and have recently had the contract extended for another four months) for a local authority, knobbing about with their website and so on. The work is – well, I’ll say uninspiring, and leave it at that. Watching continental drift would be more stimulating. At the same time, the other people I work with spend most of their time either not talking at all, or blethering about stuff that a) has no interest for me or b) sends me bananas because it’s stuff they should know but don’t. Section a) includes stuff about what happened in the soaps last night, or what respective offspring are doing in school. Section b) includes stuff wondering how to do something with (for example) a database that is a piece of piss, and considering they’ve been doing the same job for a decade really is something that should come as second nature.

So yes, on occasion I use personal music as an anchor to sanity. I use headphones for it, because I’ve also experienced offices where music was allowed on speakers, and nothing is more headache-inducing than 20 people all listening to different types of music, and all clashing at intrusive volumes. I use music to make a boring job at least verge on the acceptable. A case in point, in the last couple of weeks I’ve been adapting 500 maps to go on a website. It’s dull, repetitive, and about as intellectually stimulating as watching a month of Emmerdale. Music helps the time go past – and stops me deciding that the only other acceptable option is to hang, draw and quarter the social incompetent behind me who insists on humming his way through the day (in both an audio and an olfactory way) which other people in the office might take as being slightly antisocial. Then again, they might thank me for it.

Day Out

Not much has happened today – I’ve been in Chester seeing friends (well, seeing friends, and drinking in a lovely bar by the river) all day, followed by being incredibly sad and watching Little Shop of Horrors on DVD. All in all a pretty good Sunday

Oh, I forgot to say – at the Bottom show last night, I got a bright red T-shirt emblazoned with “Merry Fucking Christmas”. Perfect.

Bottom – Weapons Grade Y-Fronts Tour

Yes, I’m infantile. Yes, I identify with the swearing. And basically, my sense of humour is JUST that infantile. So another fun night ensured – seeing Bottom Live is always an experience, and tonight was no different.

Mindless violence, exceptional sound-effects, lots of swearing, a time-machine toilet (Yes, The Turdis), Y-Fronts, explosions, forgotten lines, a semblance of a plot (for once), it’s all much the same as the previous four stage outings – and still funny with it.

My ribs hurt.

Spawn

Along with everything else that I loathe about the Festering Season™, there’s one I’d managed to erase from memory until this week. It happens every year, and I manage to fume quietly. However, this year the little fuckers seem to be springing up everywhere, and as far as I’m concerned, death’s too good for ’em. The populate every town centre, every shopping centre, everywhere you look you’ll see the little bastards.

Fucking trainees. In every shop, brought in to handle the Festering Rush, the absolute pointy end of the wedge, the focus of consumer ire for another year. Ill-trained, ill-equipped – where’s the fucking wisdom in putting the people with two day’s experience on the tills so that every single customer is pissed off with delays? Fine, get in extra people – let ’em stack shelves, re-stock, and generally do gopher work. Don’t put them in a position where they have to handle trechnology like tills, or complicated concepts like loyalty cards, change, or even simple multi-tasking. Give them the shitey jobs to do – flinging the catalogues of Yuletide junk at prospective punters, or even packing bags so people can get through the tills quicker. Don’t stick them on the “customer services” desk, where all they’ll do is bug another staff member, because they’ve got fuck-all idea where any bastard thing is kept.

Even better, if you actually really want non-fucked-off customers, put the divvy little twonks in charge of keeping the walkways clear, rather than letting pestilential primate pram-pushers congregate in the narrowest parts of the customer flow, rather than allowing the town’s coffin-dodger convention to clog the throughfares of the shops and streets. Move along, move along, get the fuck out the way.

Just don’t put ’em on the tills. Or if you must, if you absolutely bloody bastard have to, then at least give them the training to know how to work the bloody things.

For Fuck’s Sake (again)

Unbelievably, the twunts in the shopping centre (see below for pictures of the crimes against humanity Christmas decorations) in Oldham have now started playing the interminable looped tape of Christmas Carols arranged for Pan-Pipes and Trumpet. I could cry. Or kill people. Or possibly both.

‘tards

Out of interest, why is it that when I’m sat at work, typing away, and with headphones in, do people still insist on standing behind or beside me and talking? Are the headphones not a clue that I can’t hear what you’re saying?

OK, some people would say I shouldn’t be listening to music through headphones while in work – and they’d have a point. But all the same, they’re pretty visible, but it’s not rocket science to get the attention first, wait for me to turn off music, or pull out a headphone, and then talk, is it?

The Matrix : Revolutions

So, only a couple of weeks after Reloaded went to IMAX, and then onto DVD, out comes the final part. The general let-down reaction to Reloaded seems to have had a knock-on effect on Revolutions, with seats still available in the screen/showing we went to see. Of course, being released into the wild on a Wednesday is possibly not the best move – but I’m not complaining, it was quite a birthday pressie for me. *Grin*

So – is it better than Reloaded? In a word, yes. Reloaded was burdened with a lot of the problems associated with being the middle part of a trilogy – it needed to track and link from first film to last, and as such was always going to be half a film in many ways. Revolutions is an easier film in that context, because it’s drawing the story to a close.

However, I think in some ways Revolutions doesn’t know what to make of itself either. Yes, it’s a finale, but there are so many threads to be tied, it can still come out feeling confused. Information overload – once you’ve seen the film, your brain still needs extra time to assimilate it. I’ve a feeling I’ll enjoy it more when I see it again – now that the basic framework is in place, there’s a lot more detail to be added in, I think. In all, I enjoyed it – it’s difficult to write a great deal without stuffing at least some of the plot details, so I won’t – and will almost certainly see it again. I wonder how well the trilogy will hang together if viewed in one session?

Oh, and one final point – I’ve found the ideal vehicle in which to do the christmas shopping this year…

Day One

And yes, the next year of existence appears to have started in a fashion that I only hope it can’t maintain all year. This morning’s post brought a letter from the Halifax building society bank bunch of financial fuckbags, telling me that my application for a new bank account had been successful.

Um, what? I haven’t applied for an account since starting up with my own bunch of fiscal incompetents, and definitely wouldn’t go for one with Halifux – if only as a reaction to the adverts with Howard The Twat – anyway. So what the chuff is this about?

Turns out it’s an application that’s been made from my old address. Oh goody. How lucky am I that I’ve got Mail Redirection to make sure stuff comes to me. So, I ring Halifux to tell them that the application is fraudulent. (And not even in the correct first name).

I’ve never dealt with people who were so amazingly uncaring, inefficient, and really couldn’t give a shit. I hope they all get their ID’s nicked, and thousands of pounds of debt rained upon them. It’s what they deserve. They’ve blocked the application (the bank account was ready to open, just needed some ID to be produced) and will send me out some paperwork about how to keep an eye on accounts so I can be sure it doesn’t happen again. I’ve requested a complete copy of the application, and written details of their investigation into this, but I’m about as confident either of those will happen as I am of Michael Howard becoming the next Prime Minister of the UK.

Time to write a shitty letter, methinks…

Plans

No, I haven’t got much planned for today/tonight. I’m going off to see Matrix:Revolutions – I know, geeky or what? – at Manchester Printworks. Other than that, some drinks will be had, and food may also be had. All very random. Which suits me just fine.

Birthday

32 Years ago, at exactly 3.05am.

Still Crazy After All These Years
©Paul Simon

I met my old lover
On the street last night
She seemed so glad to see me
I just smiled
And we talked about some old times
And we drank ourselves some beers
Still crazy afler all these years
Still crazy after all these years

I’m not the kind of man
Who tends to socialize
I seem to lean on
Old familiar ways
And I aint no fool for love songs
That whisper in my ears
Still crazy after all these years
Still crazy after all these years

Four in the morning
Crapped out
Yawning
Longing my life away
I’ll never worry
Why should l?
Its all gonna fade

Now I sit by my window
And I watch the cars
I fear I’ll do some damage
One fine day
But I would not be convicted
By a jury of my peers
Still crazy
Still crazy
Still crazy after all these years

Plenty more years still to go – and I still love this track.

Bloody Fucking Decorations

Look, it’s the first week of November. That’s not the time to be putting up all the bloody things for Christmas!

NT-Hell

via Meg, comes a stunning letter of complaint to NTL. While not particularly sweary, it sums things up wonderfully. I bet it gets no response at all…

Ey. You. Yeah, you.

Farewell then, Brookside. Now, let’s hope that Eastenders, Corrie and Emmerdale all follow suit.

Fireworks

According to the BBC, this will be the last year for certain fireworks before they get made illegal. The Fireworks Act will restrict sales of fireworks to a three week period around November 5th, make it illegal for under-18s to have fireworks in their posession, and a range of other measures. Yet it’s stopped short of a ban on selling fireworks to members of the public. Why?

Personally, I love fireworks – so long as they’re done safely. I’d far rather see it made illegal to seel fireworks to the public, and the money saved every year on safety advertising campaigns etc. could be used instead to find government sponsered safe firework displays for the public. Too many people get hurt because of fireworks – whether through their own stupidity, or through the stupidity of others. Yes, even public displays can go wrong – I saw one in Weymouth do exactly that – but they’re still safer than Joe Chuffwit in the back garden wandering back to find out why the rocket hasn’t gone off, or Wayne Scallie blowing off his own hand, or damaging someone else’s face “because it’s a larf, innit?”

Yes, fireworks can have a Darwinian “survival of the thickest” effect – anyone dumb enough to be fucking about and treating explosives like toys deserves to get their hands blown off when it all goes wrong, and I have no problem with that – instead, I have a problem when they’re used and “accidentally” harm other people that I have a problem with it.

All in all, I’d rather they were illegal to be sold to the public. While it would be a pity to lose some of the smaller displays, I think that there would be significantly less people hurt each year – and that makes such a legislation worthwhile.

For Fuck’s Sake

Over the weekend, Oldham’s main shopping centre has put up all it’s snurf-hurfing christmas decorations. Santa’s grotto, poxy bloody tree (including poxy reindeer), lights, garlands, twinkly frigging fairy lights, the whole galumph.

I hate to have to point this out, but it’s the first week of fucking November. Not December. Bah, bastard humbug. As it is, I’d only got the phone with me today, so the shot below is slightly shonky. Tomorrow I’ll take in the digicam, and capture the centre in all it’s festering glory…

Surprising

Sometimes I do like a quick random wander around somewhere like HMV. Today, for instance, I had wandered in looking specifically for the re-released Johnny Cash single “Hurt“, which wasn’t in stock. So instead I plonked about, had a look at the DVDs, and discovered that Peter Gabriel has released a DVD of the ‘Growing Up’ tour, the one I went to back in May. So yes, I bought it, and I’m already looking forward to watching it tonight. I think the stereo may just get a work-out with it too…

Work’s Christmas Do

Yes, I’ve avoided getting myself lumped into the Work Christmas Do this year. Again. In fairness, until last Monday I didn’t even know if I was going to be here for the Festering Season™, so that’s a pretty good excuse for not booking myself in. Well, that and being a passionately anti-Christmas-Do-type person anyway.

But I did have to laugh at the email that came round work today from the organiser of said Do, complaining that only 15 people had responded, it was a Christmas Thing not a wake, and to sign up and pay up as soon as possible.

Oops, deleted that one too. *Grin*

Update

I swear, weekends are getting too chaotic for words. Another unintended hiatus, consisting partly of “can’t think of anything to write” and partly of “too knackered to string words together”. Neither of which are entirely optimal for writing d4d™.

Saturday was manic, in a relaxed fashion. It was the day of the two birthday things where one wasn’t to know about the other. Amazingly, and by no small amount of luck and timing (Rule of Life #1 : It’s better to be lucky than good ) it all went well, no clangs were dropped, and everything can now amble on it’s way again. The purchase of a birthday present from Pyramid Glass is, so far as I can tell, always going to be a bit of a winner, and it was a good day.

Having left Friend #1 (she was going back to meet her beloved after the football), I grabbed a taxi home (ah, the exuberance of youth!) and just as it was pulling up at the house I got a call from Friend #2 saying “we’re running a lot earlier than expected, see you in about twenty minutes!”. Talk about timing…

As it was, everything went well. OK, it was a good night, but my god, it pissed it down. Following the meal, we were goingt o go to a couple of bars, but by the time we got there, the mood was more “sod that, let’s go home” than to keep on, and so one taxi ride later, there was brandy coffee for all. Not a bad way to thaw out, it has to be said.

So fortunately no-one got embroiled in a “you said you’d be there” kind of incident, and all went well. Everyone left on Sunday morning, and I was left to my own devices, most of which were either not working, or couldn’t be bothered to start. So a quiet – dare I say much-needed? – day was had, including watching Ferris Bueller’s Day Off on DVD – a particularly good way to spend a vegetative Sunday.

Normal service should now be in the process of being resumed…

Busy Day

More later