Compilation

I've just published my first iMix to the iTunes Music Store. For £8.69, you can now buy 11 songs by some of my favourite bands ever, or just listen to the 30 second previews.

In the Collective Zine review of the first Action and Action EP, we were compared to a much-vaunted British band from a few years back called Spy Versus Spy. I can't tell you how difficult it is to track down material by them - I can't find anywhere online where you can buy their CDs - but I have finally located one track of theirs, again on iTunes. Alan, if you're reading this, it's here

Now, off to Cardiff city centre for the inevitable "sales".

Comfort Food

I have had a huge amount to do over the past couple of days, and, as ever, I haven't quite managed to do all of it.

I journeyed to Oxford this Tuesday, to hand in an application form for a job at the University, and also to sign up with an agency. The agency didn't fill me with a whole look of confidence, given that they seem to deal exclusively with the badly-paid sectors of the employment market, but we'll see if anything comes of it. In terms of Winchester, there doesn't appear to be loads of work there either, but I'll keep checking Guardian Jobs and so on.

Then, this evening, just when I was all ready to make the tube journey to Paddington, it occurred to me that I'd better check the location of my passport. I opened the top left draw of my dresser, where I was fairly certain it would be, and fished around a bit. I generally keep my passport and cheque book (i.e. the important official things) in this draw. My old passport, with the corner cut off, is there. My new one is not. Now, the last time I used it was to go to Rome, so it can't be all that far away, but after consulting my folks, they think I should find it before I come home to Cardiff. Arse.

Oh well, at least it means I can get my washing done in good time of leaving for Florida. And I might even get time to tidy my room a bit!

Right, one final things before I end this post. The first is to alert people to the truly wonderful www.uknova.com. This website lists 'torrent' files (a torrent file is a tiny file you download, then open to download parts the file from many different locations at once, thus spreading the bandwidth load) for UK television. Put simply, you find the tv show you want, then download the torrent file for it. Set the torrent file running (usually overnight, because the files tend to be quite big) and then you eventually get various British TV shows you can watch at your leisure. Apart from people uploading things like yesterday's Eastenders, there are all sorts of great shows available that people have recorded on VHS years ago, and now transferred to a computer file format (usually divx).

This might seem like a lot of trouble for anyone who's used to Sky+ and similar services. Well, it ain't for me. The primary reason why I don't just switch on the box and watch TV in a conventional sense is that the roof aerial of our house is pointing straight at the TV mast of Alexandra Palace, which has apparently been switched off for some years now. I can't really afford to pay someone to get up on the roof and reorient it so we can watch TV, and I'm sure as hell not going to do a Rod Hull myself. As a result, I'm not paying for a TV license, as I don't receive TV broadcasts into my TV (used exclusively for the Gamecube), but it doesn't stop the TV licensing people from sending me numerous, increasingly threatening letters. I'd be really interested to know the legal situation ias regards buying equipment that includes a TV tuner if you have no intention of watching TV with it.

[edit] I found my passport in the end, in the jacket pocket of my suit. Thank goodness.

Merry Christmas to one and all. Expect frequent blog service to resume in Florida, in a few days' time.

The beginning of the end

Sorry it's been so long since I've posted. Not only have things been pretty crazy in terms of my workload (remind me never to work for a week and a half with only 4hrs sleep per night), but this morning I gave in my resignation at work. I'm intending to move to Oxford or Winchester; who knows what the future will hold?

Don't touch that dial....

Famous for 15 megapixels

I'd like to alert readers of my blog to this considerably better blog about life in London and that sort of thing. He seems to make a good go of articulating his observations about London life, drawing different things together, and he's a decent photographer to-boot.

Reviews

I am overjoyed by the fact that the first review of my band's new CD (at Collective Zine) is a good one, by a source that I trust.

This has really made my day

I love my band!

303721342_l.jpg
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

Continuing the theme of posting last week's events, I thought I'd tell you about one of my highlights which was playing at a mental health arts event for Mad for Arts. We were on a bill of predominantly jazz-related music and spoken-word recitations; I knew before we did it that we'd be the only rock band, and yet again we'd be on a line-up that wouldn't be of bands with a natural fit with the music we play, but it almost felt as if the more mis-fit, the better.

There was a very cool sampling duo with broadly jazz instrumentation called 'Rabbit' who were mesmerising to watch and listen to, particularly in combination with their freaky projected visuals. Delay pedals combined with saxophone occurred in one of the other bands as well, which I enjoyed listening to, in the same way that I'd enjoy listening to the wierder sections of The Mars Volta.

What really made the night for me (apart from the newky brown ale, obviously) was that when we went on-stage, it felt like we were hungry again, with the kind of aggression that we'd had when were a brand new band, only with much much better songs to back it up. Guitars were thrashing about, I was narrowly avoiding smacking my face into various solid objects, and there was a sense of barely-orchestrated yet fun chaos about the room, from my point of view. People were either retreating into the recesses of the crypt to get away from the completely un-jazz noise we were banging out (did I mention, it was a gig in a crypt!), or otherwise coming forward with renewed enthusiasm (we're definitely a Marmite band). This is why I'm in a band. I want to let loose, and getting some sort of reaction from the onlookers is a significant bonus. We're playing in Oxford this week, with my Uni mate (and ex-band-mate) Jake's band. I'm really looking forward to it, and I just hope we play as well as we did last week!

My view of the world

Wonderwoman at my desk
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

Today, this was literally my view of the world. The wonderwoman mug I was given for my birthday by my colleagues, a huge pile of red plastic folders of work to go through. Aaaargh.

Keen observers will notice I have the This Ain't Vegas website loaded on the computer screen.

Okay, so what have I been up to recently? Well, tonight I went to see a rather excellent film called 'Totally Personal', by Nedzad Begovic, a Bosnian director, at the Blue Elephant Theatre. It was very touching and genuinely portrayed family life without being corny, and alluded to the conflicts of the balkans only very gently. This past weekend I went to visit Naomi in Hampshire, to recover a bit from the wierd stomach problems I've been having recently, and to catch up on some 'personal admin' as my wish-they-weren't-City lawyer friends would call it. I think I'm going to keep dealing with things in reverse order. Well, we went to see the new Wallace and Gromit film last night, which was very very funny, and had me laughing out loud many times (to Naomi's slight embarassment). I'd highly recommend it. During the daytimes, Naomi had law college classes to attend, so I sat in their computer room to get on with various things, like trying to find good value flights to Florida around the New Year for Andrew's wedding. Back on Saturday night, we went to the Alresford town fireworks display, which was actually really good. And on Friday evening we just watched some TV and generally rested.

During last week I discovered the most wonderful band, at a gig at the Betsey Trotwood. Called Itch, they were a Leeds-based bunch who reminded me of Braid, Mineral, Youthmovie Soundtrack Strategies and Owls, i.e. a collection of superb influences. Please give them a listen.

So much control

These days I quite often find myself reading things that seem quite absurd, but are occupying our politicians to determine what's best for this country. Several topics spring to mind.

Yesterday, for instance, I was reading about the plans for a partial smoking ban in the UK.

What's now being proposed is that there will be separate smokers' rooms in pubs, so that pub staff won't have to inhale smoke from their smoker patrons. So, I'm visualising lots of pubs having to put in partition walls and have heavy fire doors so that the rest of the pub's customers won't be put at risk from smoke leaking out of the room. Apart from changing the way a lot of historic pubs actually look, this would be quite an expensive process, and would no doubt lead to a further increase in the cost of drinking for the end consumer. In my mind's eye, you'll also have drinkers who are now no longer entitled to have their empty glasses collected for them, lest the staff of the pub inhale their smoke. Or, maybe pubs will start to specifically recruit staff who are smokers themselves and don't mind customers' smoke, in order to service these new specialist smokers' enclaves. Yes, I'm being a little facetious, but this is the way things are going. Why does this government need to legislate over everything?

My friend Giles once pointed out that although there's a high cost of treating smokers through the NHS, maybe the NHS wouldn't be able to keep going if Mr Brown wasn't taxing smokers so heavily. I don't know whether it's true, but it'd be an interesting idea to test.

I don't smoke but I'm also not some kind of anti-smoking Nazi. If people want to go to the pub, they have to accept that there may be smoking going on, just as there may be smoking on the street. The next thing will be to confine smoking to the home. If there really is such concern over passive smoking, wouldn't it be a good idea to offer licensees some kind of tax break for installing powerful extraction systems? That way everyone'd be happy. The government keeps taking its tax on cigarette sales, smokers aren't sent into a special room, non-smokers aren't bothered by the passive smoking. But actually all of this misses the point. It's the meddling mentality that bothers me most - I think people are quite capable of looking after themselves with regard to smoking, and the government shouldn't get involved. I feel the same way about fox hunting, another matter that I have no vested interest in.

If the powers that be are looking for something to spend their time on, why not sort out public toilets? There aren't enough of them, many are no-go areas for those of us who don't go cottaging, and most are in a horrifying state of piss-riddled disrepair. I'd also be very interested for something to be done about coffee shops where they don't offer toilet facilities. You can walk down Picadilly in London and go into shop after shop that's selling food and hot drinks, where you can eat in, and drink in (at great cost) and they somehow seem to avoid responsibility for providing toilet facilities. If anyone can explain the rules and regulations in this area, please add a comment to this post, because I'm really interested.

Cardiac

Cardiac
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

Owing to there being no buses this morning, I had to run to Alexandra Palace train station, which is about a mile away from where I live. My heart has been bloody hurting me all day. I hope it stops.

I mean, I hope it stops hurting me. I hope it doesn't stop.

Evening Standard Headlines

Today, I found out that somebody has started collecting Evening Standard billboard photos chronicling their daily orgy of metropolitan doom and gloom. I quite enjoyed it.

The day before yesterday, their front page bore the headline 'David Davis on Middle Class Drugs'. It looked to my eye as though Chris Morris had infiltrated their press room!

Transport

Well, it was certainly interesting getting to work today, with there being no Northern Line. Took me nearly 2 hours to get to work, using a crafty combination of sitting on gridlocked buses and running down streets in the pouring rain, and I didn't arrive until 10:45 (gulp!). What puzzles me is that they must have known this was coming. I mean, the service has been pretty crap for the last week or so, and I can't help but wonder whether the removal of all services on the line has something to do with the major works that were in the press a while ago about having to shut the City branch for a couple of months because the track was in such a dire state.

I guess it's going to be interesting getting home tonight as well, *sigh*.

In other news, I'm reliably informed that Douglas Murray who was at Magdalen at the same time as me, and who sings at St Michael's with me on Sunday mornings, was on Newsnight last night, talking about Iraq. I wish I'd seen it. The internet doesn't seem to have any information on it, which is a shame.

And then there's the new video iPod released yesterday. I have to say that the idea of paid downloads of TV programmes actually does quite appeal to me. Yet another way to while away the lengthy commute!

Oh, and one final element to this disjointed blog post - for some reason there's a mysterious charge of $18.50 that was debited from my credit card on 16th August by "IT SOLUTIONS GROUP INC. 954-472-1656 FL", whoever they are. I informed my credit card company that it looks fishy, and they've suggested I contact the easily-identified (?!) IT Solutions Group about it. That'll be easy...

--edit-- Silly me! As Jack points out in the comments, it was the bill for a URL I'd purchased. Now my mind's at rest.

Roma (part II)

The second day, we got lost in the morning and spent an hour or so wandering around a fairly ropey area near the train station. It became apparent to me that Italian men really have no idea of what is decent conduct around women, particularly those in couples. There was one point where Naomi strayed perhaps five feet from me, and two or three men in their twenties immediately started whistling and making what I assume to be sleazy remarks. Plus there is no holding them back when it comes to staring at a woman's breasts. They don't even seem to be aware that perhaps that isn't appropriate where a woman quite clearly isn't single. I'm a pretty protective, so all of this annoyed me a fair bit.

Once we got back on track and out of the crap area of Rome, we started to make our way across the city to take in some of its wonderful sights/sites. Naomi's Lonely Planet book had a suggested route that allowed us to take in many of the most notable attractions in one journey. As we walked down a little winding alleyway, we emerged into the square that held the Treviso Fountain. The sunny weather combined with the whiteness of the statues and the clarity of the water gave the whole scene an amazing silvery appearance. There were crowds and crowds of people there to enjoy the vast fountain, and some people asked us to take photos of them and reciprocated with our cameras. There was also an oriental couple having wedding photos in front of the fountain. After a few minutes we went on to the Pantheon. It's not often you see a circular church (in this case not entirely by design, as the building had undergone a pagan->Christian overhaul at some point). Again, it was a big draw for tourists. We stopped for lunch (more excellent pizza) at a restaurant on the square next to the Pantheon, directly next to a well-disguised McDonald's with pretty outdoor parasols and seating. They weren't quite so successful in disguising the smell of McDonald's food.

After lunch we went on to see more of central Rome, enjoying ice cream and coffee along the way. Later in the afternoon we went to the Spanish Steps (that's where the photo of Naomi on the previous post was taken), popping into a wonderful little specialist glove shop on the way. We went into the church at the top of the Steps to see the Caravaggio paintings inside, then emerged out into the balmy dusk air, to sit and enjoy the encroaching evening. Sellers of plastic roses flocked to try and persuade lovers to part with their money, below.

That evening we returned to the restaurant of the previous evening, Ristorante Unicum. It doesn't appear on the internet at all, I've discovered, but if anyone's interested, it's between Via Cavour and Via Liberiana, on what I think must be Via di Santa Maria Maggiore. This time we arrived before the pianist started (which was again fun), and we ordered starters followed by a huge fish (I can't remember the name of it for the life of me!) with spicy tomato and mussels. We were given several flaming Sambuccas at the end of the meal, which rounded off a really great holiday nicely, and guaranteed the waiter a good tip! I think we'll be back there again, one day.

Roma (pt 1)

naomi in rome
Originally uploaded by ambroseneville.

Well, today is my birthday (I think it's the first ever blog I've written on a birthday), and I thought I'd write about what I've done over the last week or so.

Last Thursday I woke up unusually early to get my things together and make my way to Liverpool Street to then take the Stanstead Express to the airport. Naomi was coming back via Rome (where Schola Cantorum had been asked to sing for the President of Italy), and we'd arranged that I'd meet her for a pre-birthday weekend in Rome, where neither of us had ever been before.

I arrived in the early evening, and owing to the security arrangements surrounding the presidential concert, I wasn't allowed to attend. Instead, I waited for Naomi until she'd finished the concert at a little fountain in the square next to the convent where the choir had been staying. I was engrossed in the Lonely Planet guide to Rome, when I heard an excited pitter-patter of feet across the stones of the square. I'll never forget the grin on her face as we hugged and kissed. Three weeks is a long time apart.

That evening, the choir had been invited to a rather swish dinner (cocktail dressed et al) and scruffy here wasn't allowed to go to that either, so I faced the prospect of eating dinner at a restaurant alone, something that has filled me with dread for as long as I can remember. By way of context, I've often looked at businessmen or women when I've been at restaurants with friends or family and thought that that situation of solitude is an unnecessarily miserable one, and have frequently found myself quite close to inviting lone strangers to join with us to eat together. So, gathering my courage, I went off to find a restaurant.

I found that old trick of eating a lot of food and drinking a 1 litre glass of beer to help me while away the time (you know what I'm talking about - eating and drinking at an accellerated pace when you're in a place where you don't know anyone, because you don't know anyone. It's the non-smoker's approach to trying not to look awkward by means of keeping your hands busy. Generally I'm not very successful here). I also continued to read the guide book. I was in an outdoor veranda area, and the weather changed from being balmy late-summer to rainy autumn in a matter of seconds. As the rain bucketed down, it transpired that there was a leak in the roof near me, causing rain to cascade down onto the seat on the other side of my table for 2. I felt like I'd stepped into Woody Allen's world. The next thing to make me chuckle was the appearance of no fewer than 4 umbrella salesman within minutes of the start of the rain.

Shortly afterwards, I met up with Naomi and the rest of the choir for their end-of-tour awards ceremony. This was held at the impressive flat of a local guy, not far from where we were staying. Naomi was one of two people presenting the awards, and the whole thing was as funny as it could be for someone who wasn't aware of the inevitable tour in-jokes.

The next day we left mid-morning and made our way on the Roman Metro to the Vatican, where we bumped into another couple from the choir (Paul and Helen) at lunchtime. We spent quite a lot of time going through the Vatican Museums, which contained some amazing Early Modern maps of Italy, dating back to when Italy was just a 'geographical expression', as well as all sorts of wonderful sculptures and lots of trompe l'oiel frescoes. The crowds in the Sistine Chapel were enormous, and despite signs demanding silence and no flash photography, the Vatican Police had their work cut out to keep order.

We had some lunch at a little touristy restaurant(served by a brusque waiter) and then the four of us climbed the dome of St Peter's (and Naomi managed it despite her fear of heights). I counted each step as we ascended, and by my reckoning it was around 535 steps up to the top, but well worth it for the amazing views available over Rome, and into the basilica itself. Paul had a really good digital camera and took lots of great photos of the basilica, using specialist lenses to capture the way the afternoon sunlight flooded into the white and gold of the building. As the afternoon drew to a close, we went to a good - if over-priced - cafe for some ice cream.

That evening we found a great little restaurant where I had veal and Naomi had steak, after really good pasta and risotto starters. There was also an hilarious guy banging away at the piano, doing all sorts of pastiches and generally providing great entertainment. The waiters were brilliant, and at the end of the meal we were given shots of complimentary grappa. The boss of the restaurant, who seemed to run quite a tight ship, had also made various wax work busts that adorned the walls, including one of Pope John Paul II and one of a deceased head waiter from the restaurant. There was also a rather large elk head behind our table. None of these things seemed tacky. It was a really great restaurant. So great, in fact, that we would return the following night for more of the same.

Candle burning at both ends

Sorry for neglecting the blog a bit over the last couple of weeks. I've been really very busy, but have been having a really great time. The week that I last wrote saw two Action and Action gigs - the first with a number of bands (the best of which was The Olympus Mons, who were like a 3-piece Bloc Party. Actually I've just found that they wrote something nice about us here!) - the second with the truly exceptional Meet Me in St Louis in Kingston. MMISL were easily in the top 5 bands we've ever played with and I have to say I'm really looking forward to playing more gigs with them. They were tremendous guys, quite apart from being a spectacular (and incredibly intelligent) band.

In between those two gigs, I went to see Jake's current band, Popular Workshop, on the Wednesday. Those guys have only been together for a short while, but they're getting better every time I see them, sounding more and more like an eccentric take on Shellac and McLusky. Really good stuff. Then, on the Friday, I went to High Wycombe for one of Eddie's gigs, which was an amazing night, as ever. I got to see and hear a variety of wonderful punk rock, including Circus Act who I've been wanting to see for ages. I had rather a lot to drink, then passed out on Eddie's couch, while people carried out with discussions into the night in the same room, English and American accents invading my dream state.

(have I included enough musical links to show you what I'm enjoying at the mo?)

The next morning, Naomi called me at about 8 O'Clock. It was 4 O'Clock in the morning for her, in Argentina, and she'd completely forgotten that it was Saturday morning for me - so I wouldn't necessarily be up - but it was lovely to speak to her all the same. God knows what that phone bill will amount to!

After that, I left Eddie's and made my way back to London. I then proceeded to spend the rest of the day tearing apart my room in order to locate the wedding invitation that Richard and Philippa had originally sent to Naomi, who had then put it in my bag. I'm not good with paper work, you see. I managed to find it half way through the afternoon, just in time to put on a suit, tube down to Liverpool St, then take the train out to Colchester for the 5pm wedding reception. True to form, I arrived at 6. Dinner was good, and it was a fun evening all round, plus it was great to see Richard and Philippa so happy, and all of their extended families enjoying the occasion. They had a huge marquee in the extensive gardens of Richard's parents' house, and to cope with the numbers of people they had hired fairly large portaloos (which played back amusing panpipe versions of Queen songs - I discovered this on my accidental visit to what turned out to be the ladies' toilet). Doug and Chris (Richard's brothers) did an amazing iMovie montage of Richard misbehaving drunkenly from childhood onwards, culminating in an inebriated video apology to whoever his future parents-in-law would be). It was very very funny, as was James Bendell's speech, which included some immortal lines at Richard's expense. Richard's own speech was also funny, mainly because he kept losing his place, and was understandably nervous.

Of course, my highlight of the evening came when the disco started, because everyone knows how much I look forward to dancing... Richard and Philippa got into their taxi at the end of the night to get to their hotel before flying to the US for their honeymoon. I crashed in the hotel room of one of Richard's mates, and woke up to then get the train to St Michael's on Sunday morning. A very hectic week, but a great one.

Weekend in the Wirral

Last weekend involved a trip to the North-West of our fine isle for the stag weekend of a mate of mine, Richard, who is marrying Philippa this coming weekend. Philippa and I were friends at school and she and Naomi are good friends from Oxford, and Naomi and Richard had been friends for a year before either me or Philippa had come up to Oxford, so I've always appreciated how well we get on as a group. Anyway, that's the preamble of how I know the bride and groom-to-be.

I arrived quite late on the Friday evening. I was supposed to be working a half-day at work, but a computer problem kept me there for a few hours extra while I sorted things out. Then I came home to pack some clothes from the weekend, and David was in the house, so I stopped and had a cup of tea with him. I eventually made it down to Euston some time shortly after 7 o'clock and irritatingly had to wait for an hour or so because I'd missed the train I'd been hoping to catch (I can't count how often I've done this!). Once on the train, staffed by authentic scousers - you have to love that attention to detail on Virgin trains - I tried to while away my time on a selection of games on my Gameboy Advance, listening to some Bloc Party on the trusty iPod. All was not serene, however. A couple sitting on the opposite side of the carriage were having a barely-contained argument, with the scouse woman being unbelievably venemous in her treatment of her Irish boyfriend. I don't know what he'd done to deserve it, but she was really dishing it out, in that threatening whisper that some people seem to do so well. Meanwhile, a pair of teenage girls sitting behind them chatted and laughed loudly, oblivious to the rancour ahead of them.

Another couple sitting ahead of me also broke into an argument shortly before we reached Crewe. From what I could gather, the young man had mentioned to his girlfriend that he was thinking of having something done (I'm guessing it was a tattoo or a piercing of some sort) and then later in the same journey had actually revealed that he'd had it done already. Thankfully I didn't have to listen to too much of their argument before they alighted.

We reached Liverpool around 11pm, and I jumped on the Liverpool equivalent of the Underground, going out to West Kirby where Richard's relatives own a house we would be staying in. I arrived to a scene of poker, copious spirits and mostly-uneaten containers of chinese food. I don't actually know how to play poker, so I just watched each player get wiped out by the formidable force of Richard and the other two Dixon brothers. The evening then progressed to drinking games, and I did my usual trick of passing out through a mixture of drinks and exhaustion.

The next day we went paintballing. As well as our group of 8, there were another couple of stag parties and a contingent of about 20 pot-smoking scousers there for a 21st birthday party. The paintballing itself was a blast, but made more difficult by the fact that the scousers kept removing their masks, each time threatening to hasten a 'Biker Grove' incident. And there was very little authority to prevent this, the games being marshalled by teenagers. One of Richard's mates, Alan, got so hacked-off with this situation that he refused to play any more, and returned to the cafe in a bit of a huff. The paintballing games were fun, and quite varied. The final one was one where the stags and their best men had to run from the remainder of the participants who were trying to hunt them down. With no easy way of identifying each other, this melee ended up with me being mistaken for a stag/best man and shot repeatedly. Those pellets really hurt a surprising amount!

That night we went into Liverpool itself, for a meal, and then later on to a club. I don't feel there's any need to detail the evening fully, but suffice it to say that Richard emerged at the end of the night with some scars. These were added to when, after returning to the 'flattic' we were staying in, Richard insisted on going over to Hilbre island, staying there on his own in the middle of the night, and nearly triggering some sort of coast guard alert. He also fell over in some rock pools, hurt his back and broke his phone. A good night was had by all.

I took charge of an enormous fry-up operation the next morning, myself eating two full English breakfasts rounded off by kippers. As we nursed hangovers from the previous night, wolfing down congealed food was about all we seemed to have energy for that day!

Foreign lands

Incidentally, Naomi went on a choir tour to Argentina this week (Tuesday). It's not a pleasant feeling knowing that a loved-one is on another continent, and that we can't have our usual daily phone call to say goodnight. This is going to be the case for the best part of three weeks, which I'm sure will get me down!

Anyway, I promised Naomi that I'd keep a decent, regular diary of blogging going for the rest of this month, so she can check up on me from time to time when she encounters a cyber cafe.

Naomi, if you're reading this, I hope you're safe, and I love you.

My banning list

Donning my Victor Meldrew beret, I'd thought I'd write that I've been thinking for some time about a list of things I'd like to ban. I will probably update this list as other things occur to me.

- Outdoor patio gas heaters: How on earth can it be possible for these things to exist in this age of environmental awareness and concern about climate change? You're pointing a gas fire straight up into the sky and burning fuel for the sake of it. People in the UK are going to have to realise that you can't expect to sit outside for most of the year because our climate doesn't permit it. Wasting precious fuel on a heater that's for the most part ineffective is, frankly, sickening and disasterous.

- Heat magazine and the like: horrible, horrible, horrible. I can't actually believe that this kind of celeb-obsessed literature sells. Week in week out it's the same tawdry tale of infidelity and weight loss. A developed society can well do without this rubbish.

- Personalised numberplates: an ugly form of self-aggrandisement for the nouveau riche. Personalised numberplates say to me that the owner has money to waste and wants you to know it. I'm not sure if I can think of a better example of why conspicuous consumption is crass.

- Microsoft Windows: when did the computing experience become about trying to fight for control of your computer? A computer should be an appliance device like any other, but Windows is so poorly-written that it's like an old lady walking through a bad part of town in the dark. You know it's going to end in a mugging. Not so with Mac OS.

OK. Rant over (til next time) :-D

Escape velocity

I had a meeting that went really very badly this morning. I'm not willing to let this happen again, and it's endemic in what I do professionally. I think this is going to be the spur i need to make me escape my inertia.

Myspace

Well, not content with having an online presence through this blog, I've finally succumbed to having one on Myspace as well. If you've never come across this übersite, it's a place where you can create an entry for yourself and then state who your friends and acquaintances are in a virtual way, like.

Sounds useless, and I guess it is, largely, but it's useful if you're a band and you want to let people know what you're doing or when you're playing, and also useful for sharing pictures and getting in touch with friends of friends who you wouldn't necessarily have an email address for (through an extended network).

So, if you're so inclined, and don't feel like devoting the time required for a full-on blog, why not sign up for this.

If you're a bit wary like my mate Ian, you'll probably want to know that all of Myspace has recently been bought out by the evil Rupert Murdoch.... You have been warned.

Something worth fighting against

I've been angry about software patents for some time now, since I heard about VideoLan Client being threatened with removal due to supposedly transgressing software patents. VLC is an incredibly useful little application that plays a lot of media types that Quicktime, for instance, can't open. I suggest you read a little bit about why software patents are basically a completely spurious way of getting rich based on someone else's work, and these patents ultimately stifle innovation in small IT companies.

So, today I read about this idiot Mr Keung and his patent. What the guy has done there is to try and patent the idea of putting in a password to access something remotely that you've paid for. This nonsense has got to stop.

If you're so inclined, write to your MEP. I haven't done it yet, but I'm pretty sure I will at some point, because this is something of gravity for anyone who makes regular use of computers.

While I'm thinking of democracy, I think I'll also put up a link to www.faxyourmp.com, an awesome service that allows you to contact your MP directly in a speedy way, for free. Pretty cool, I'd say.