Merry Christmas

Nativity
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

Merry Christmas to anyone and everyone who may be reading my blog.

If I may posit that we all lend our thoughts to those in distant places on this planet whose lives are threatened, and if you pray, even as a once-a-year Christian, think of those in jeopardy.

I hope that you have a safe, and most of all, happy, season.

The possibilities are endless, so the cliche runs

I had an idea a few weeks ago that it'd be an interesting social experiment to spend a week approaching people that I've never met, and acting like we're really old friends. It relates somewhat to a book I read sometime ago, that suggests that people will generally relate to you as you relate to them. This could be used to explain the idea of Christmas 'spirit', or Christmas 'cheer'. Once an idea like this is established, it seems that it's contagious, but it relies on the agency of goodwill among at least a proportion of the population to keep it going year-on-year. In today's climate of mutual suspicion, don't forget the value of going out of your way to be pleasant, as the knock-on effects may be substantial.

Christmas shopping: the beginning

Okay, so it's Christmas Eve, and I've not yet bought any Christmas presents, apart from Naomi's, and we've already had our Christmas a bit early.

The news has been full of doom-and-gloom warnings from retailers for the past couple of days. I like the idea of the retailers across the country being made nervous by the uncertainty that's been generated by shoppers realising you don't have to go shopping on the high street, except maybe for last-minute items you can't buy via mail order or from ebay. I'm no anti-capitalist, but I do like the idea of people generating their own market price (as with ebay) rather than being stuck with what the high street cartels are willing to offer you. That said, it's now so late, I'm going to have to use high street shops myself.

Yesterday afternoon, I was out and about in Cardiff city centre, and decided to get a coffee to try and clear my light-headedness from the couple of pints I'd had. Walking into Starbucks, with James H and Dom, we queued up for a bit, then I announced to the barista [how annoying is that title] that I would like "a grande latte, to go away". I seemed to have created a new, confusing terminology for ordering a hot drink, fusing the English form, to take away, with the American one, to go. And in so doing, it sounded like I really didn't want the drink I'd just ordered.

Christmas is cancelled

I was reading a comment in the free Metro paper this morning by Krishnan Guru-Murphy who was saying how poor the Christmas build-up has been this year, referring to things like the shoddy state of the Oxford St Christmas lights. I also heard from Luigi that they cancelled the Christmas parade and Santa's grotto in Uxbridge (this time because it was deemed offensive to other religions - a parade and grotto to the year's big push on unnecessary consumer spending hardly strikes me as Christo-centric anyway). I write this not as a the voice of the Daily Mail, but in confusion at the illogic of the situation: there's something a bit mad in the liberal self-loathing of the Christian festive tradition in this country, to the extent that people shy away from referring to Christmas (at least in the sector I work in), but harp on and on about festivals of other religions that occur at this time. One rule for you, one rule for me.

An aside:Krishnan Guru-Murphy can be used to illustrate the truly horrific value of third rate celebrities at the webpage below. Why on earth would anyone want to look at a car crash on the interweb, and several photos, at that? There's something wrong with the way culture is going.

http://www.mynottinghill.co.uk/nottinghilltv/photogallery/krishcrash.htm

The cunning plan (pt II)

Regular readers may recall a little customs-dodging concept "a friend of mine" came up with recently, involving a dummy guitar that would be left in a certain foreign land, this New Year. The strength of the pound against the dollar is at an all-time high. The pieces of the jigsaw are starting to fall into place (Moriarty-style evil laugh), as "a friend of mine" has now purchased a severed guitar body, minus the neck and all the electrics. This will be the perfect dummy. Mwhahahahahaha.

Merlin

This lunch time I ate at MacDonalds (<- have you ever noticed how "i ate" sounds really American compared to "I have eaten"?) and was served by someone called Merlin. It pleased me to meet someone with a wierd name, myself being someone who has a reasonably wierd name.

Epiphany

Epiphany
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

Yesterday evening I found myself walking down a hill in a suburb of South London - a slightly Dickensian scene, and certainly not the sort of place where you'd expect to have many feelings other than a certain suspicion that you might be mugged. I was carrying with me a bag full of letters that I'd stupidly agreed to deliver; this was to-all-intents-and-purposes a pretty pointless exercise that I'd been lumbered with, and yet, in these miserable surroundings, I had a sudden realisation that I was really happy. There was probably some sort of electrochemical alignment that occurred to produce this feeling of elation, and I'm pretty sure the dual-keyboard song by The Gloria Record that I was listening to had something to do with it, but it was one of those fleeting moments I think I'll always remember. Looking up into the air, I saw the flashing lights of one plane, high up, and then I spotted another, much closer, close enough that I could see its undercarriage lit up with an orange glow against the velvety midnight blue of the sky. In that moment I felt like I suddenly understood the vastness of the world, but my insignificance was mixed with a kind of contentment. It was that rarest thing: recognition of being happy, and being in love, when you are, not after the fact.

The Immodium Diet

Continuing the current fad for insane dietary practises, I feel that now is the time to revisit an idea I discussed with a friend, a couple of years ago. That is, the Immodium Diet. I have discovered from my own experiments that swallowing two immodium tablets has the effect of rendering one unable to undergo bowel movements for three days, to the hour. Rather than eating loads of steak and refusing to eat anything that would provide your body with the carbohydrate necessary for ordinary living, why not just clog yourself up so you never want to eat anything? Or maybe it'd just make you fat...

Strongbad's Extra Plug

strongbadshoes
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

For those uninitiated in the bizarre cartoon world of HomestarRunner.com, Strong Bad is a cartoon character who answers emails sent in by website visitors about once a week. Click on the link above to see the list of all of Strong Bad's animated emails, and once that's loaded, click Extra Plug for one that I found particularly funny.

Strange start to the day

There was a tall, suited, bald black man sitting to my left on the tube this morning gesticulating wildly at himself and mouthing words at his reflection in the windows at the opposite side of the carriage. He may well have been schizophrenic. Noone reacted to this as if it was troubling or unusual. There's minding your own business, but this lack of reaction practised by Londoners is still pretty freaky to me.

Her Majesty's iTunes

The Queen
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

Hey mama, this that shit that make you groove, mama
(hey)get on the floor and move your booty mama
(yaw)we the blast mastas blastin' up the jamma
(hey)so shake your bambama, come on now mama

As if further proof were needed...

Kennedy
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

...Nigel Kennedy is a complete wiener.

http://www.metro.co.uk/metro/interviews/interview.html?in_page_id=8&in_interview_id=956

The bit about Kylie Minogue nearly induced vomit.

That special feeling of dread

I have long wrestled with my pathological fear of answering the telephone - and today has been no exception. When I hear a colleague answering the phone, then saying "oh yes, yes, I'll transfer you now", there's a second when I'm paralysed by the idea that this call might be put through to me. If it goes to somebody else in the office, I breathe a sigh of relief. If my phone does begin to emit its particularly shrill ringing, then I generally have to deal with someone on the other end who is either placing some demand on my already-stretched time, or is making some cheeky, unwarranted complaint. I end up dealing with a lot of ungrateful bastards day-to-day. Which is rewarding.

I love it when a plan comes together

My friend has this great plan to confound Her Majesty's Customs (but don't tell anyone).

When my friend goes to Florida at Christmas, my friend is hoping that he will have saved up enough money to buy myself a *nice* second-hand guitar from America, where the pounds go further than they do in rip-off Britain. My friend been looking at ebay guitars for some time now, waiting for the right one, but it's occurred to him that they end up costing you hugely in postage to come from the US, the guitar is put at extra risk in the international shipping, and when it gets here, Customs will probably get their shabby mitts all over it and try and squeeze as much money out of him as possible.

So here's my friend's plan - he's going to take a really buggered-up old guitar, worth about a fiver, in a hardcase over to America. When he gets there, this will be thrown into the jaws of a waiting alligator, and then a quality instrument will be put in the case and come back to the good ol' UK without our friends at Customs getting involved.

I do love it when a plan comes together :-D

Our critique began as all critiques begin. With doubt. Doubt became our narrative.

Our critique began as all critiques begin. With doubt. Doubt became our narrative.
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

I have decided to start using my blog to make recommendations as to various forms of media that I've consumed and that I think visitors to my blog may enjoy/appreciate.

The first of these is 'Waking Life', a film that's the source of the title quote for this post and the image above. I saw it on Saturday morning and was completely enthralled, so much so that I'm going to buy the DVD. This film has everthing - beautiful, original visuals, thought-provoking monologues on existentialism, evolutionary theory, and some excellent acting conveyed in an original animated framework, Please do seek this film out. You will not be disappointed.

Secondly: I recently finished watching The Sopranos series 3 on DVD, and happened to catch an episode on Channel 4 from a later series, whilst channel-hopping a couple of nights ago. I've been a big fan of The Sopranos from the early days, and its charm isn't blunted by time. For those unfamiliar with the premise, it's the perfect 21st century setup, with a mafia boss who attends a shrink and spends most of his time trying to hold together his 'two families' (as the blurb always points out). The characters are very engaging, and yet the writing has a way of bringing you back to the fact that your on-screen anti-heroes are in fact people whose lives hinge on their morallly-indefensible actions, whilst the individuals themselves try and fail to construct a coherent honour system within which to carry out their organised crime. This is all tempered with a good dose of dark comedy. Little wonder the series has won a slew of Emmy awards.

More of my favourite film/TV series/music soon.

Curiosity and the success index

Maybe it's just me being odd, but from time to time I find the irresistible urge to try and find out what my contemporaries from school are doing nowadays. I'm not interested in fiends reunited, and, frankly, most of the people I went to school with were not my friends. But that doesn't stop me being extremely curious as to whether any of them have done anything interesting/salacious/illegal in the meantime, and to try and find out whether it's been chronicled somewhere on the wondrous interweb.

All I have managed to uncover so far is that stupid people seem to be making more money and living in more interesting parts of the world than I am.

This is not the way to make myself feel that my life is great - perhaps I should purchase a breed of silly dog (like a sausage dog), something I have often considered as a way of replicating a sense of personal superiority. I'd get up each day, see the raw end of evolution manifest in a ludicrous animal, and think to myself "hey, my life is actually pretty good after all!".

Red faces all round

A couple of weeks ago, I was queuing up to get a cup of tea from one of those big metal urns, and a lady in her 50s who'd already got her tea was walking back in the other direction, squeezing past the rest of us who were still queuing. As she walked past, she stopped to talk to the young woman standing behind me in the queue. It was obvious that they didn't really know each other, due to the tone of voice that the older woman used, but she seemed to feel compelled to congratulate the younger woman. "How long is it now?", she said. "Pardon?" replied the younger woman, obviously confused. She clarified her inquiry: "How long is it until the baby's due?" she repeated, pointing at the younger woman's protruding belly. "No, that's just my figure", said the younger woman. The older woman, obviously mortified at having offended someone with whom she was not fully familiar, tried to extricate herself from the situation very quickly, but was briefly halted by the young woman, who pointed out that this was the second time that this had happened that very day. Even I was pretty embarrassed.

Looking younger than you are

Last night I went to Tesco to buy some cans of San Miguel, 2 bakewell tarts and a bag of kettle chips. When I got to the check-out (marked "10 items or less", gratingly), the kid serving me, who couldn't have been any older than 16, asked me for identification to buy alcohol.

Me: "Uh, yeah, multiple credit cards do you?"
Kid: "No, I need photo ID"
Me: "A Young Person's Railcard?"
Kid: [stares at the card, unable to read a date of birth anywhere]
Me: [pointing] "I'm 26"

Okay, I had had a shave, but I have been legally buying alcohol for over 8 years now, and I wouldn't say I look 16/17!

I thought of a load of demeaning things I could have said back to the kid, but by that point I had left the shop.

You Are Happy.

There is a trend that I've noticed whilst using the Underground in recent weeks that has set me thinking about the role of advertising as a means of controlling the public's sense of well-being.

If you look at the adverts on an average tube station, you will find among the film, beauty and lifestyle product advertisements that there is another kind of marketing device that appears a lot. Transport for London produces its own advertisements, some banal, and some more insidious. The banal messages often take the form of a picture of a rugby team, or a wizard, or a group of mime artists, recommending a course of action that improves peoples' usage of the tube by suggesting that they act in a curteous and orderly way when boarding the trains or waiting on the platforms. This is pretty obvious stuff, and might not be necessary if people were all equally polite (this is something I may return to in a future post).

The more insidious messages are those that present blanket, unqualified statements, presented in large fonts, unrelated to personal conduct on London transport. One of the most notable says "Buses are getting better". I find that sort of remark worrying. The transmission of the message is facilitated by the Mayor of London's huge publicity budget (I read recently that it's larger than that of Downing Street, but I haven't been able to substantiate that from searching the internet yet), but that budget comes, of course, from the taxpayer's pocket.

What this means is that we pay taxes to a body that pays for advertising to inform us that our lives are supposed to be improving in some nebulous, unquantified way. It implies that we wouldn't be able to notice for ourselves if our lives were improving (and perhaps this is the problem - we probably do know best). Therefore, our money is spent on telling us that we are happier now than we were in some past period, implied as being before we elected this mayor. If effective, this is cyclical - we believe our lives have improved in some way so we should re-elect the mayor who can successfully convince us (with the use of our own money) that we are happier. Very Orwellian, if you ask me.

Knock Knock Ginger/ Creative Expression

Click on the title to go to the blog of my Canadian mate, Matt. He's got some recordings of his new band, Knock Knock Ginger, that you can download.

It always warms my heart when I hear or read about a friend getting excited about something musical. I have several friends who may read this who I've tried to coerce into starting their own bands, just because I know how rewarding the whole exercise can be, when it turns out in a way that pleases the musicians writing and performing it, regardless of whether other people like it.

As far as I'm concerned, music is something worth being excited about.

Whitechapel pt II

albion yard
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

I've now spent a week in my new flat, shared with Duncan, and I have to say that it's a great little flat. I haven't even had to turn on the heating yet, it's that cozy! Think of the savings, mwhahahhahaha.

Some bandit has been parking in our private parking space, which we intend to sublet, but I have started to take note of number plates so that persistent parking thieves can be identified (I feel like such a Neighbourhood Watch geek having written that).

Over the course of the weekend, we've been out for a curry down Brick Lane, and yesterday went to look at Spitalfields market, which is also within walking distance. I'm quite looking forward to spending more time around Whitechapel, Shoreditch, and so on.

John Simpson is my new hero

For the past few weeks I've been reading the BBC correspondent John Simpson's 2nd autobiographical book, 'A Mad World, My Masters', and I've been _thoroughly_ impressed by the man's outlook. To me, Simpson represents a nobility and integrity that are missing from so much of the news media (print or broadcast) and from the wider world, for that matter. Unfortunately I'm not the world's quickest reader, but I've slowly digested a number of the thoughts from the book over the period of reading it on my recent journeys on public transport, and will be reproducing some short excerpts here on my blog.

I thought that a short section on the First World/Third World narcotics relationship manifest in Peruvian cocaine farmers was particularly succinct:

"They were coca's slaves, condemned to a life of fear and criminality by the habit of Western counties - in this case the United States, but it could equally well have been the European Union - of dumping their surplus produce on the undefended markets of the Third World. This in turn stimulates the drug industry, and Western countries are obliged to tax their citizens more in order to pay the high social costs of addiction and crime. Could anything be more absurd?"

More excerpts from Simpson soon.

Alas Cricklewood, farewell

cricklewoodmassive
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

At the end of this week I'll be leaving my flat in Cricklewood behind to move to my new place in Whitechapel. There are several things I'll miss, and have to find replacements for. For a start, I'll need to find a new corner shop where I can walk in at 4 in the morning and say to them "oh look, you've stopped serving alcohol. Or have you?" with a sly wink. Then I'll need to find a local greasy spoon to compete with the Broadway Cafe where my favourite Turkish family have faithfully served me qual fry-ups and dependable, but wierdly-made, cups of tea for the last year or so. Ah, nostalgia, how I love thee!

[the image above comes from a blog connected to a totally different Cricklewood in America, but worth checking out nonetheless - just click the title to this post and it'll take you there]

!!!

Aaaargh, so many different things to do, so much work!


To quote the sadly-missed band, Cable, "I need to vomit on my feet so I can taste again"

Tools of the Taffia

Let the rant commence. My morning/moronic holiday viewing of Trisha followed by This Morning was rudely interrupted today by a very disturbing commercial advert for www.WorkPlayLive.org, a new Welsh Language promotion website. It contains such gems as

"More and more businesses are realizing the benefits of using Welsh in the workplace - on signs, packaging, leaflets, websites and many employ bilingual staff. You'll soon be able to spot Welsh speaking staff easily - look out for the orange badge!".

Uh-huh. Okay. So what are these benefits and why aren't they listed?

There are 2 things that deeply trouble me about this sort of promotion.
• Why do you need to promote the Welsh language if it's so great? Wouldn't people just choose to speak it? Incidentally, only 21% of the population can speak any Welsh at all, according to the last census, and 98% of all households in Wales are English-speaking households.
• Why should taxpayers fork out for promoting the Welsh language? It's recognised that there is significant cost incurred in producing bilingual literature, signs, and so on, but in this case the Welsh Assembly is spending taxes on English-language television advertising on English-language TV. Expensive, misplaced and pushing a questionable agenda, in my opinion.

For the Economist's better-reasoned discussion of the serious implications of this, have a look at:
http://www.welshdragon.net/resources/Articles/patriot.shtml

Land Rover

Land Rover
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

I went to a Land Rover sales room in Cardiff a couple of days ago. It was quite an amusing experience. Land Rover dealerships seem to have an actual socio-political outlook; they advertise a 'lifestyle', an experience if you like, rather than the just the cars they sell. Now, some of this is obvious: the Countryside Alliance types are most often farmers, and the average farmer is presumably one of the main buyers of these vehicles, because they're well-suited to the purpose. But it goes deeper than that. The sofa area with the plasma TVs and the free coffee had a carefully-selected variety of literature. The Daily Telegraph was the only paper available, and the magazines were mainly Country Living and that sort of thing. Then there was the sales girl who asked if we needed any help - she was wearing one of those zip-up bodywarmer things and funny trousers that horse-riding people wear. And then to top it off there was a big surreal diorama featuring a meticulously-clean Land Rover in a woodland setting. I do wonder if any urbanite Labour or Lib-Dem voters drive these vehicles, and if they do, how they deal with the obvious Tory-centric nature of the showrooms. On the way home, we discussed the idea of a special edition model with Margaret Thatcher decals. Available in any colour, as long as it's blue.

How are you supposed to title this?

How are you supposed to title this?
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

It's hard to imagine anyone getting enthusiastic about urinals, but lo and behold, there is a huge fansite. And yes, it is worth your time to check out the top-ten urinals. They have some serious designs on this site!

Read before you click

I use Mac OS X. We are very happy together.
warningmessage
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

Whitechapel

whitech
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

Today I put down a holding deposit on a 2-bedroom flat which I'll be moving into with my mate Duncan, 2 weeks tomorrow! I'm quite excited to be moving into Whitechapel, the equal-cheapest street on the Monopoly board, though I think it may cost us a little more than £60. I'm waiting for the estate agents to get back to me on that one.

Also, our new local pub (about 30 feet away from where we'll be living) is the Blind Beggar, where the Kray Twins murdered people. Great days!

"I Can't Believe They Invented It"

"I Can't Believe They Invented It"
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

I love my iPod as much as the next man, but if you click the link above, you will see something totally ridiculous.

As my friend Oz once said, "this is a sign of an over-developed society"

The power of a smile

Anyone who knows me knows that a great deal of my happiness is invested in my relationships with the opposite sex. The following description of what happened to me a couple of days ago will therefore probably seem hopelessly naive, so please don't read on if you're going to misunderstand or mischaracterise an over-idealistic romantic outlook:

Okay, so it's Monday night and i've just played a gig with my band. I'm taking the relatively-difficult journey back from Aldgate East to Kilburn, and i have reached Moorgate where i hope to change for a better underground train to get me as far as Baker St. As I step off the tube, I can't help but notice an attractive girl getting off at the same time as me (I should add that the way she's dressed is really cute, in a jade green top, a little black pleated skirt and black tights; a slightly quirky look that definitely works for me). She meanders off in a way that suggests she doesn't quite know where she's going, and by the time she has it figured out, i've been on the escalator for a good few seconds. She rushes up the escalator steps, passing me on my left, then about 10 steps ahead of me she staggers and falls over a bit. I feel a bit guilty that i can't help her up, but she's too far up, ahead of me for me to play the Good Samaritan, or even the self-interested young guy trying to score some points with a pretty girl. At the top of the escalator our paths diverge, and I don't really think any more of it. You see good-looking people like this round and about London every day.

Then when I climb the stairs to the Westbound platform, it turns out that she's standing facing me on the Eastbound platform opposite, about 20 metres away. Uncharacteristically, I overcome my shyness, and smile at her. She smiles back really sweetly. For a second it feels electric. Then her tube arrives. I'm still looking at her through the glass windows of the tube as she boards the tube, and I can see that she's still looking right at me, and she breaks into a smile for a second time. Wow. I'm thinking to myself that this is really great, but then she sits down on a seat with her back to me, and actually turns her head right over her left shoulder to look straight at me, continuing to smile broadly until her face disappears under the arch of the tube tunnel. Needless to say, it pretty much made my night.

I'm quite interested in the paradoxical nature of this situation. It's both primal and quite innocent at the same time, and makes me wonder about whether I believe that all such situations of attraction are driven by chance, or whether there is such a thing as fate that makes some come to fruition. Subjectivity has always clouded my ability to rationalise and fully explore fate, free will, and all of the shades of grey in between, to date. I think I need to do some reading on this subject.

Salad Fingers

salad fingers
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

Salad Fingers is a disturbing little cartoon doing the rounds on the interweb at the moment, based around a character who is both naive and charming and potentially evil, all at the same time. Watch his wierd adventures to an Aphex Twin musical backdrop. Salad Fingers has a charming northern (Lancaster?) accent that adds a strange regional flavour to the whole thing.

If you like Episode 1 (click the title above to view it), then go to www.fat-pie.com for another three episodes of Salad Fingers.

How to be emo

In case you were wondering, like.

Freedom!

DSCF0002_1.JPG
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

Hooray! My arm is now free of its plastic tomb (pictured). I went to the hospital in Paddington this morning, and the same sarcastic South African bloke as dealt with me last time was there on hand to help remove the caste.

Interestingly, they used a small, lethal-looking circular saw to cut the plastic. I mentioned that I thought it looked quite dangerous, then he told me that it couldn't harm me. 2 minutes later he was boasting that it could cut into the bone very easily to a nurse he was helping to train. So much for patient reassurance!

Anyway, the main thing is that I can now shower without having to wrap my arm up in a towel, which will be great. I don't have that much movement in it yet, and I've been told I shouldn't lift any weights at the gym for about a month, but I'm still pretty happy. Well, apart from having hardly enough money to get through to pay-day on Monday and having quite important work-pressure until the end of Thursday....

One of my favourite interweb sites of all time

week-end
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

I have been enjoying the humourous work of a man who calls himself Drew for some years now. He has an interweb site called http://www.toothpastefordinner.com and used to have a site at http://drew.corrupt.net, until 2002. I think both sites are pretty damn funny. He is now also writing for a site called .net - you can see his worryingly-sane discussion of the UNEMPLOYMENT BEARD by clicking the title of this post. Go check it out.

An amusingly bitter spoof news site

Click the title to view it.

Devolution x Nationalism = great councillors

culloden
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

Click the link above.


"The independent member for Fife Council said he did not like the English because of the Battle of Culloden more than 250 years ago."


Give me a break. Scots, Welsh, English & Cornish (!) nationalism is laughable. Believe it or not, most people in this country are pretty much over hating the Germans for World War II, so why is there such a noticable recent growth in this kind of resentment against people who share the same landmass as you? When I go home, you also hear people in the pub saying they hate the English, but where the hell did this narrow-minded xenophobia come from?

Foiling the Oyster Card

Foiling_the_Oyster_Card
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

For some time now I've been a bit concerned about the potential for the Transport For London Oyster card to be used to track (or, as with any electronic device, falsify) people's whereabouts at certain times or locations.

It turns out that our equally-paranoid friends at www.spy.org.uk have done their own investigation of this, and there are some interesting ramifications (such as getting over-charged by the ticket barrier machine if you are fat and using a different paper ticket for a particular journey - I kid you not), but while the card only stores your last 10 journeys, there must be some massive multi-terrabyte hard disk array somewhere, storing a full record of usage of each and every Oyster card, and probably indexing them to relevant CCTV footage. For Londoners, at least, identity cards are here already. Click on the title of this post to go to Spy Blog and find out more.

maastricht

maastricht
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

Me and my bro Dominic in Maastricht, as taken by my younger brother James. I like this photo because the sky came out really nicely.

On Holidaz

Hi everzone and anzone who maz be reading mz blog. Iäm currentlz in Bonn, in Germanz, and have decided to stick to a normal quertz lazout, ignoring this retarded German kezboard and the fact that several characters are in the wrong place. Itäs not that Iäve suddentlz started using some teen-text-speak or anzthing, God forbid.

Itäs been prettz good so far - we went to Maastricht the daz before zesterdaz, which is a surprisinglz lovelz citz. The people were reallz welcoming, and the food was excellent. I recommend it as a holidaz destination. Mz zoungest brother also delighted the bar-goers at the hotel we were stazing at bz plazing them some cheexz lounge piano. Alwazs goes down well, that.

Will post some pictures when I return to the UK.

Am

One for Frank

Click on the title above for some delightful MIDI Herbie Hancock. Also check out the musical work of my friend Chris (aka Frank), who I hope will appreciate the Herbie link, on his cool website at http://www.capricornmusic.co.uk/

Land of my Faaaaaaaaaaaathers

WTB_GB_15505_42652_L
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

I have been at home in Cardiff since Wednesday night, and boy is it good to be here (please do not inform any burglars you may know). I'd not realised how you sometimes take rudeness for granted in London until I got back here. Wales actually isn't so bad compared with other places in the UK (but you'll still never get me speaking Welsh or having any time for Welsh nationalism).

Finding Emo (the Irish petrol station)

pic_forecourt
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

When I grow up I want to work for this company. Thanks to Dave's parents for finding this one!

Mr and Mrs Hedley

Congratulations to Paul and Gail who got married today. Paul is an old friend of mine from Oxford.

I think my invitation must have got lost in the post, or something.

Epitonic.com

I really love Epitonic.com: it's such a good resource for finding out about unusual music because you can get a couple of mp3s from even the most obscure of bands. The link above will take you to a page bearing the site's mission statement, which I think is laudible. I'm always harping on about this, but I wish there were more people in this world who would take the trouble to try and consume decent culture rather than accepting the lowest common denominator in literature, film, music and so on. Epitonic I salute you.

Death Clock for Cutie

rotateskull
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

According to the delightful www.deathclock.com, I am due to expire on Wednesday, July 17th, 2052.

Why not delight yourself with the macabre practice of trying to figure out when you will die?

The Crem'

A discussion at work just prompted me to remember that I once tried to apply for a job to work the night shift at a crematorium. It's testament to the Job Centre (or Job Centre Plus, as they seem to have rebranded it now. Why did they do that?) that the night watchman's job was far and away the best thing they had to offer. Still, it would have been pretty cool to have actually done that job, just for wierdness' sake.

Under the affluence of incohol

Okay, so I've had quite a busy weekend, with the usual array of trips on the nightbus (three nights in a row, now I think about it!), waking up in strange bus stations at 5:30 in the morning, and so on, and I'm sure that affects my brain chemistry in some way, but I just feel so down this morning. There's an insurmountable level of work to deal with, and I'm generally pretty bloody fed-up with my life. I feel like I'm developing an Alan Partridge-style loathing for London also. Maybe I need to move to Norwich...

Goldie Lookin Chain

The GLC have launched a new version of their website along with an incredibly cool cracked-Amiga game-style interface. Run over and check it out, clart.

You knows it!

Fracture update!

I went to the Fracture Clinic this morning for my 10-day update on my wrist/arm, and it turns out that, as expected, I have broken my arm (radius bone). The consultant spotted it straight away, but explained that it might not have been picked up previously because it wasn't a great x-ray.

I am now sporting a new caste, and the old moth-eaten version has been binned. When it came to me getting a new one, the sarcastic South African bloke responsible for putting the caste on, who had just spent the last ten minutes winding-up the patient next to me asked me what colour I would like.

Me - What do you have
South African - Pink, yellow, blue, red...
Me - Red please
South African - why red?
Me - (deadpan) because I mostly wear black clothes.

...and a justification of illegal downloads of hip-hop based on conspicuous consumption...

"Internalizing the lyrics proves more damaging than the act of stealing it"

Interesting article on hip-hop and materialism

THE Future

As a break from flippant, fatuous posts, I thought I would write something that diarises my thoughts a little bit more. After all, I always wear my heart on my sleeve in the 'real' world, so it probably won't hurt to do it occasionally here. I've been thinking about being 25. It's a juncture, and I now have the choice to acquiesce and accept fate and not push myself to do something amazing with my life, or I could grab this world by the throat and really achieve something. I'm just not sure what it is that I want and need to achieve yet. I sure as hell don't want to look back on my life forty or fifty years hence (assuming I live out that long) and think to myself "damn, if only I'd escaped inertia and at least *tried* to do something important". By the time I hit 30, it'll be too late to think like this, so I have under 5 years to actually do something. Everything so far has been a prelude.

Fear my power

james harries
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

One day Lauren Charlotte will have a sex change to become James Harries all over again, and then Dickinson and his perma-tanned cronies had better watch out. Antiques programming will never be the same again. In the land of the blind, the perm-headed man is king.

Nicknames

I've found that having a job makes you much more likely to get given nicknames. I haven't ever really had any titles other than my real name in the past, owing to it being reasonably unusual.

However, these are the new ones I've picked up over the past few months:
-Manbrose (we used to have a workmate called Manvir. It was something of a variation on a theme)
-Brose (the truncated form)
-Bro (the band call me this)
-Broid (this one, which came from Giles [see link to his blog] is just wierd. I do find myself saying "these aren't the broids you're looking for" as a result)

I think I like being called Am best, but noone seems to do it!

subject: beans cont'd. music: Not For Anyone by Hot Water Music

you will notice that there are some quality baked bean links in the advert at the top of this page, should you wish to purchase your baked beans from John Lewis(!). By mentioning baked beans a few more times in this post, I'm hoping they'll stay there!

Singing?

I had a phone call from a promoter last night who has booked the band for a gig in September, but he was initially a little unsure as to whether it was a good idea to book us, based on his concern from hearing demo recordings with the kind of screamy shouting we occasionally do in the band. He said he thought we might be doing ourselves permanent damage, but that maybe that was just his age showing (from his voice he was in his 40s, probably). With a million and one screamo bands popping up here there and everywhere, it strikes me that you would have to be quite musically-isolated not to hear this happening in a lot of modern rock music (even Lostprophets, for instance). At least he said we could make some suggestions as to other bands that could go on the bill.... We'll see how this turns out.

Interweb is a leech on my time

algore
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

It's hard to get a lot of work done (as I have to over the next 2 weeks) when you have broadband. I think Mr Gore (the 'creator' of the interweb, in his own words) has it right.

Smashed wrist

Have just made it through my first day having probably broken something in my wrist (the scafoid bone was mentioned by a doctor; something in the thumb which doesn't show up in an x-ray). It hasn't been as bad as it could have been, but I guess I'm a bit concerned about my gigs later in the week, and that I won't be able to enjoy them as much as usual. Things go pretty slowly when you can only type with your left hand. At least it's been helping me break my addiction to MSN messenger during the working day, through non-realtime-ness being introduced into my typing speed.

First post (woot!)

so, i've finally cracked and started my own blog. I think I was inspired by

http://www.theonion.com/news/index.php?issue=4031

to finally get on and do one. After all, every other bugger seems to have one, so why shouldn't I have a canvass for my musings.

Here is the first of my blog-as-a-genre thoughts, and one that I've mentioned to a couple of people recently:
Isn't it strange that we take it for granted that baked beans should come in tomato sauce. After all, a tomato is a totally separate plant and there's no reason why the juice of a tomato should form the sauce for a bean. Which bright spark thought this up? He/she has defined how we see the baked bean in western society. Pretty impressive, I'd say.