*mutter* *snarl* favicons

I love the idea behind favicons. What’s a favicon? The little picture up on the titlebar beside the name of some websites, in some browsers. If you’re lucky, you’ll see a yellow square with “d4d” on it while looking at this site. But you may not.

And that’s what’s frustrating about them – they’re not standards-compliant, and there’s not even any compatibility between browsers about what works best. IE supposedly likes them, Opera doesn’t, and Firefox sometimes likes them and sometimes doesn’t. No-one seems able to decide whether they should be 16×16 or 32×32 pixels, 8bit, 16bit or 32bit colour, or really bloody anything.

Over the weekend, I realised that the website for my company didn’t have a favicon – it’s nothing special, doesn’t alter the functionality, but I do like the idea of favicons, particularly when using tabbed browsing, such as in Firefox. It makes each tab instantly recognisable. Well, it does so long as the keffing things work.

Of course, for some reason (as yet still unknown) the favicons I was using didn’t work. No idea why, and now it’s working again (although on an older version than the one that’s now been loaded onto the site) and I’m still utterly clueless about why it’s happening. Grrr. Why is it that it’s always the small “simple” things that take up so much time?

Colour Me Stunned

In yet another “File Under : Sherlock, Shit, No” moment, the Mental Health Foundation has published the results of a survey today.

And the conclusion of this survey? Low moods can be beaten by having someone to talk to, or by being hugged. I kid ye not. Now, how amazed are you by this revelation? I know it left me utterly flabbergasted. To think, just having a hug (or a shag) makes you feel better. Fucking hell, Holmes, you’ve got something there. It might even be a solution!

I’m far more interested in knowing how many depressives considered “punching the twat who’s just said ‘cheer up, luv, it might never ‘appen!’” as a viable option for its mood-lifting properties.

On The Edge

One thing that a lot of people don’t know about me is that once I hit a certain point in the depression/stress cycle, all I do is sleep. It’s an evasion manoeuvre, I know – and it’s the big signpost for me that things have gone Far Enough. (Intentional capitals) This Easter weekend has demonstrated that part of me quite impressively. I’ve slept for about 45 hours over four days. If anyone had been here to try and wake me up before I was ready, I suspect that (as has happened before) I wouldn’t have woken up. On previous occasions that’s worried people enough that I’ve woken up in hospital – no memory of getting there, nor of paramedics etc. using what can only be described as painful methods of rousing an unconcscious patient. Which is, of course, stressful in itself.

Thankfully, this time there’s been no-one around, and I’ve just been able to sleep for the time that my brain/body required. I feel almost human for it – my body-clock is still utterly wazzed, but that’s nothing unusual. Now we’ll just see how the return to normality (or at least my version of it) goes tomorrow.

It’s Oh So Quiet

I’ve been out for a walk today – and I can’t believe just how quiet it is outside. Amazingly, the supermarkets appear to all be shut – miracles never cease – and the only slight sound is that of traffic. Walk a short distance off the street into Clayton Vale and it’s a glorious day, far quieter than a normal. Lovely.

Incendiary

I can’t wait to see what Maria has to say about the story in today’s Guardian about a domestic abuse ‘expert’ who believes that acts of domestic violence are a defence response to undetected panic attacks.

I’ve never been involved in domestic abuse, and hopefully never will be – so I can’t really say what provokes certain men to want to abuse their partners, but from what other people have told me, it’s more about the abuser being insecure and feeling the need to display their “power” over their partner, to show their “superiority” by assaulting them. To be the attacker is (supposedly) to be the powerful one. That doesn’t sound like a panic attack to me, but as I said, I’m no expert.

Money ≠ Sense

Unbelievable. A “tycoon” has spent £70m on a London mansion. Fair enough, it’s a 12-bedroom place in Kensington Palace Gardens. But bloody hell, £70m? More money than sense.

Euro-advertising

While most adverts are bloody annoying, I have to say that the ones I find to be the worst are the ones that are made for an entire continent at once, with just bad dubbing and no lip-syncing to put them into each country’s preferred language.