Only seven minutes to go; I have no ideas of what to write right here. I have great ideas earlier in the day, but I can never be bothered I remember what they were by this point.
That sentence made sense, I promise. It's just your mind playing tricks on you/mugging you in the dark alleyways of your subconscious and the boardrooms of your conscious.
I just played another game of 40k against Nick; he still outnumbered me, albeit by a paltry 2:1 this time. He massacred me, but I put up a good fight. My Lootas were the men of the match, laying down a withering storm of fire at anything that moved, whether friend or foe. They're an enthusiastic bunch.
Discworld MUD has become even more addictive with the addition of achievements; they're pointless, time-consuming, and give a miniscule feeling of accomplishment. Yet still I struggle towards them.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Day 30 - Invention and Infection
Happy New Year!
2009 = 7x7x41
As promised, here is my current New Year's Resolution:
Blog Every Day. Come rain or shine, hail or sleet, volcano or riot, I'll struggle, bloodied but defiant, to a computer and hack out some words to please the silent infinite mass that stares back at me. A month ago, I would have secretly known that I would fail at this, very quickly. With my recent very near success at this blogging spree, however, I feel more confident. Perhaps it could actually be done. After all, I did write a diary almost every day for a year a few years ago.
After watching Starter for Ten, I also now want to learn more general knowledge trivia. I'll have to work out a more detailed target for that, however, as with a few other things. More New Years Resolutions to come, don't worry.
2009 = 7x7x41
As promised, here is my current New Year's Resolution:
Blog Every Day. Come rain or shine, hail or sleet, volcano or riot, I'll struggle, bloodied but defiant, to a computer and hack out some words to please the silent infinite mass that stares back at me. A month ago, I would have secretly known that I would fail at this, very quickly. With my recent very near success at this blogging spree, however, I feel more confident. Perhaps it could actually be done. After all, I did write a diary almost every day for a year a few years ago.
After watching Starter for Ten, I also now want to learn more general knowledge trivia. I'll have to work out a more detailed target for that, however, as with a few other things. More New Years Resolutions to come, don't worry.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Day 29 - Dashing Yonder and Thither
Happy New Year's Eve, everybody.
No update on the news from yesterday; I still can't remember what that third item of news was to be. It definitely was not:
3) I have been abducted by a sinister cult and used in their sinister experiments.
It might have been:
3) I have been abducted by a sinister cult and used in their sinister experiments AND THEN HAD MY MEMORY WIPED.
Is it traditional to make New Year's Resolutions on New Year's Eve, or New Year's Day? I'm not entirely sure, but the Day seems more appropriate. To compromise - for what is life without compromise, other than a fulfilling one with a strong moral code? - I will present my own Resolutions tomorrow, and today I shall give the Resolutions of Mr H. R. Cramworth, who lives in a suburb of London, in the year 378 P.G. (Post Gralling), in a universe differing only slightly from our own.
1) Tell Maria how I truly feel about her, instead of panicking and buying yet another marmouth slave each time I go to her shop.
2) Lose 30lbs so that I can join in the annual Synchronised Poison Marching Parade Spectacular Competition.
3) Kill the Beast Within.
4) Tame the Beast Without.
5) Check the sage about the Beast in the Basement.
6) Learn French.
Next blog in 2009; be sure to check for more exciting Resolutions.
No update on the news from yesterday; I still can't remember what that third item of news was to be. It definitely was not:
3) I have been abducted by a sinister cult and used in their sinister experiments.
It might have been:
3) I have been abducted by a sinister cult and used in their sinister experiments AND THEN HAD MY MEMORY WIPED.
Is it traditional to make New Year's Resolutions on New Year's Eve, or New Year's Day? I'm not entirely sure, but the Day seems more appropriate. To compromise - for what is life without compromise, other than a fulfilling one with a strong moral code? - I will present my own Resolutions tomorrow, and today I shall give the Resolutions of Mr H. R. Cramworth, who lives in a suburb of London, in the year 378 P.G. (Post Gralling), in a universe differing only slightly from our own.
1) Tell Maria how I truly feel about her, instead of panicking and buying yet another marmouth slave each time I go to her shop.
2) Lose 30lbs so that I can join in the annual Synchronised Poison Marching Parade Spectacular Competition.
3) Kill the Beast Within.
4) Tame the Beast Without.
5) Check the sage about the Beast in the Basement.
6) Learn French.
Next blog in 2009; be sure to check for more exciting Resolutions.
Day 28 - A Gun Too Far
Four bits of news, two good, two bad.
1) Discworld MUD now has achievements - yet more things to achieve and feel good about. Plus, lots of free XP.
2) This post is at 12:08 am, so judging by GMT I have failed to blog on Tuesday. Therefore, this blog post will count as being European.
3) I have entirely forgotten what this item of news was to be.
4) I discovered today a previously unknown reader of this blog. Hello, friend! Come, and leave some of the happiness you bring.
Yippee-ki-yay, John MacClane.
1) Discworld MUD now has achievements - yet more things to achieve and feel good about. Plus, lots of free XP.
2) This post is at 12:08 am, so judging by GMT I have failed to blog on Tuesday. Therefore, this blog post will count as being European.
3) I have entirely forgotten what this item of news was to be.
4) I discovered today a previously unknown reader of this blog. Hello, friend! Come, and leave some of the happiness you bring.
Yippee-ki-yay, John MacClane.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Day 26 - Fronds of Summer
Well spotted, astute reader - in true "25" style, yesterday's post was a secret one, hidden somewhere in the internet. Find it, and I will find you.
I was just lured into watching half an hour of net_work, by Black20. I've seen them all many times, but I do love them. Some people I've shown them to seem less impressed; I have noticed that in many cases, people's tastes are simply poor when compared to my own. They must have other gifts.
Still, I strongly recommend you to check out net_work, if you haven't already. They're short, funny, addictive, and oddly seem to obey the inverse of the Comedy Law - the less people watching, the more you laugh.
I have been doing other things with my time. Yesterday, me and Raf drove Up North for our friends' 21st birthday party. I assume you're a southerner, reading this (do they have the internet Up North?), so I don't need to speak of the terror that fills our weak southern bellies at the thought of such a journey. After a harrowing five hour journey, I can confirm that all of our worst suspicions were true.
As you drive through the blasted heaths of the midlands, away from the metaphorical bosom of the south, the skies begin to darken. Thick, black smog fills the air, covering everything it touches with a faint odour of coal and gravy. Strange, feral creatures scamper by the side of the motorways, constructing primitive talismans to ward off our "Devil Carriage". After a few brushes with some of the grimmer aspects Up North (including an eternity spent in Rochdale), we arrived in Burnley.
Luckily, my superior navigation skills brought us immediately to our friends' house. Yes, there were many northerners present, but they were the good kind. If only their dependency on pies could be reduced, they could even be rehabilitated in the south. A minibus took us to the Party Palace [it wasn't actually called that - it was a pub owned by their aunt, but I forget the name. It should be called Party Palace, anyway.] We talked, laughed, ate, drank, merried, danced, and watched amazing card tricks. They hadn't hired a magician, it was a just a cool guy there who knew card tricks.
Back to the house for chats and jaffa cakes, slumber, and then a drive back Down South. It was an enjoyable trip Up North, and a great party. Still, those lands are just too harsh for my pampered sensibilities.
So Happy Birthday Vicky and Helen, and thanks for the hospitalities. Thanks especially to Molly, whose enthusiastic face-licking caused me to feel like a saliva-based Two-Face for part of the night.
(Molly is a dog, I hasted to add.)
I was just lured into watching half an hour of net_work, by Black20. I've seen them all many times, but I do love them. Some people I've shown them to seem less impressed; I have noticed that in many cases, people's tastes are simply poor when compared to my own. They must have other gifts.
Still, I strongly recommend you to check out net_work, if you haven't already. They're short, funny, addictive, and oddly seem to obey the inverse of the Comedy Law - the less people watching, the more you laugh.
I have been doing other things with my time. Yesterday, me and Raf drove Up North for our friends' 21st birthday party. I assume you're a southerner, reading this (do they have the internet Up North?), so I don't need to speak of the terror that fills our weak southern bellies at the thought of such a journey. After a harrowing five hour journey, I can confirm that all of our worst suspicions were true.
As you drive through the blasted heaths of the midlands, away from the metaphorical bosom of the south, the skies begin to darken. Thick, black smog fills the air, covering everything it touches with a faint odour of coal and gravy. Strange, feral creatures scamper by the side of the motorways, constructing primitive talismans to ward off our "Devil Carriage". After a few brushes with some of the grimmer aspects Up North (including an eternity spent in Rochdale), we arrived in Burnley.
Luckily, my superior navigation skills brought us immediately to our friends' house. Yes, there were many northerners present, but they were the good kind. If only their dependency on pies could be reduced, they could even be rehabilitated in the south. A minibus took us to the Party Palace [it wasn't actually called that - it was a pub owned by their aunt, but I forget the name. It should be called Party Palace, anyway.] We talked, laughed, ate, drank, merried, danced, and watched amazing card tricks. They hadn't hired a magician, it was a just a cool guy there who knew card tricks.
Back to the house for chats and jaffa cakes, slumber, and then a drive back Down South. It was an enjoyable trip Up North, and a great party. Still, those lands are just too harsh for my pampered sensibilities.
So Happy Birthday Vicky and Helen, and thanks for the hospitalities. Thanks especially to Molly, whose enthusiastic face-licking caused me to feel like a saliva-based Two-Face for part of the night.
(Molly is a dog, I hasted to add.)
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
Day 23 - Fnord
Happy Boxing Day everybody! I hope you've treated your servants well, and given them plenty of Turkish Delight. As noted in yesterday's post, today there was a lot more of family seeing; lots of food; a Christmas quiz; secret santa; and a ridiculous amount of truffles and socks.
I just cast (casted? cost?) my eye around for what to write about, and spotted "Death's Domain" immediately. Fate has dictated a brief explanation of what I think about death, it seems.
Death is, at the very least, the end of life as we understand it. The brain stops sending signals, the heart ceases to beat, and the brain generally shuts down. If the individual survives in any meaningful way, then the mind (or at least a substantial portion of it) must be independent of the body, and can go on thinking.
Thinking's all well and good, but to keep things interesting (and preserve our sanity), we'd also need to perceive things; get some kind of changing input. Ideas that I've considered:
1) The mind stays in the world, but is no longer attached to the body. We float around and watch people, see the world, presumably forever. There might be a lot of very bored ghosts when the Earth explodes.
2) As above, but we can also travel through Time as well as Space. Past, present, future: all will be available for voyeuristic exploration by the enthusiastic spectre.
An obvious question that arises, is the relationship between ghosts. Would we be cut off from all the other dead people, or once we have died, can we suddenly see and talk to all the other dead. If so, the world is extremely crowded.
3) More scary: we cannot move in Time or Space. While we can continue to think, we are stuck in the moment and place of our death. Not good for deaths under traumatic circumstances (or, in fact, boring ones). Sadly, exciting and fun deaths are hard to come by.
4) Usual heaven-based answer - we leave the world altogether, and go to some other place. Since we're not very good at thinking in new ways, this is usually pictured as us in some other physical place. Then again, since we do perceive things in a very specific way, to preserve our identities, perhaps heaven (or hell) would need to be this way. All this talk about "planes of existence we cannot conceive" is rubbish, since then we wouldn't really be ourselves in this bizarre reality.
5) Nothing. Zip. Nada. The mind is not independent of the body. Death, and then no self, no thought, no anything. Either comforting or terrifying, depending on my mood.
My preferred option: transported to a universal library, infinitely large, with all eternity to read them. Plenty of reading rooms, with big fires, and food stalls serving all kinds of deliciousness. Doors to the personal heavens of others, so I can visit them and vice versa. Mine is the best, of course.
The Word of the Day is Elliptic.
I just cast (casted? cost?) my eye around for what to write about, and spotted "Death's Domain" immediately. Fate has dictated a brief explanation of what I think about death, it seems.
Death is, at the very least, the end of life as we understand it. The brain stops sending signals, the heart ceases to beat, and the brain generally shuts down. If the individual survives in any meaningful way, then the mind (or at least a substantial portion of it) must be independent of the body, and can go on thinking.
Thinking's all well and good, but to keep things interesting (and preserve our sanity), we'd also need to perceive things; get some kind of changing input. Ideas that I've considered:
1) The mind stays in the world, but is no longer attached to the body. We float around and watch people, see the world, presumably forever. There might be a lot of very bored ghosts when the Earth explodes.
2) As above, but we can also travel through Time as well as Space. Past, present, future: all will be available for voyeuristic exploration by the enthusiastic spectre.
An obvious question that arises, is the relationship between ghosts. Would we be cut off from all the other dead people, or once we have died, can we suddenly see and talk to all the other dead. If so, the world is extremely crowded.
3) More scary: we cannot move in Time or Space. While we can continue to think, we are stuck in the moment and place of our death. Not good for deaths under traumatic circumstances (or, in fact, boring ones). Sadly, exciting and fun deaths are hard to come by.
4) Usual heaven-based answer - we leave the world altogether, and go to some other place. Since we're not very good at thinking in new ways, this is usually pictured as us in some other physical place. Then again, since we do perceive things in a very specific way, to preserve our identities, perhaps heaven (or hell) would need to be this way. All this talk about "planes of existence we cannot conceive" is rubbish, since then we wouldn't really be ourselves in this bizarre reality.
5) Nothing. Zip. Nada. The mind is not independent of the body. Death, and then no self, no thought, no anything. Either comforting or terrifying, depending on my mood.
My preferred option: transported to a universal library, infinitely large, with all eternity to read them. Plenty of reading rooms, with big fires, and food stalls serving all kinds of deliciousness. Doors to the personal heavens of others, so I can visit them and vice versa. Mine is the best, of course.
The Word of the Day is Elliptic.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Day 22 - Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas everyone! If you're reading this, I wish you happiness, health, and the fulfillment of all your dreams (well, the good ones at least).
This may be the chocolate pudding talking, but I am filled with a great joy and love. For whatever reasons you celebrate Christmas, the real reason that it is so successful is that everyone loves an excuse for a holiday. To be happy, cheerful, and festive. To give and receive gifts, see family and friends, sing bad songs terribly, eat and drink far too much, watch rubbish TV, and generally do all those things we want to do but feel we shouldn't.
Of course, this is also why Christmas only comes once a year. It's like an annual blink; without it, the eyeball of our lives would dry up and crackle, but if carried on for too long, we'd be blind and society would crumble.
Enough of this, I think. I was woken up by my little brother at half past seven this morning; then the present opening began. Breakfast, more presents, drove back to my mother's, more presents, lunch, games, TV, and now bedtime.
People I have seen today (in chronological order):
Little brother
Me
Stepmother
Father
Two sisters
Stepmother's mother
Stepmother's brother
Grandmother
Grandfather
Mother
Stepfather
Girlfriend
Girlfriend's mother
Girlfriend's sister
Girlfriend's father
Sister's boyfriend
People I shall see tomorrow:
Three aunts
Two uncles
Six cousins
Two grandparents
Pretty crazy, no? Enough of this blogging; I have precious Christmas books to savour (Logic of Provability; Measure, Integral and Probability, GURPS Powers; QI Book of Quotations; Gentlemen of the Road).
Merry Christmas.
This may be the chocolate pudding talking, but I am filled with a great joy and love. For whatever reasons you celebrate Christmas, the real reason that it is so successful is that everyone loves an excuse for a holiday. To be happy, cheerful, and festive. To give and receive gifts, see family and friends, sing bad songs terribly, eat and drink far too much, watch rubbish TV, and generally do all those things we want to do but feel we shouldn't.
Of course, this is also why Christmas only comes once a year. It's like an annual blink; without it, the eyeball of our lives would dry up and crackle, but if carried on for too long, we'd be blind and society would crumble.
Enough of this, I think. I was woken up by my little brother at half past seven this morning; then the present opening began. Breakfast, more presents, drove back to my mother's, more presents, lunch, games, TV, and now bedtime.
People I have seen today (in chronological order):
Little brother
Me
Stepmother
Father
Two sisters
Stepmother's mother
Stepmother's brother
Grandmother
Grandfather
Mother
Stepfather
Girlfriend
Girlfriend's mother
Girlfriend's sister
Girlfriend's father
Sister's boyfriend
People I shall see tomorrow:
Three aunts
Two uncles
Six cousins
Two grandparents
Pretty crazy, no? Enough of this blogging; I have precious Christmas books to savour (Logic of Provability; Measure, Integral and Probability, GURPS Powers; QI Book of Quotations; Gentlemen of the Road).
Merry Christmas.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Day 21 - Opinions of an Ungulate
Merry Christmas Eve everybody! Hopefully, whoever and wherever you are, you're being very festive and merry, looking forward to all the yuletide joy that's coming tomorrow.
Unfortunately, my time is short (family trivial pursuit is calling from the other room). At the same moment, I'd like to give you as much quality in this limited quantity as I can. So here's Frege in six words:
Logic. Function. Concept. Sense. Reference. Object.
Unfortunately, my time is short (family trivial pursuit is calling from the other room). At the same moment, I'd like to give you as much quality in this limited quantity as I can. So here's Frege in six words:
Logic. Function. Concept. Sense. Reference. Object.
Day 20 - Between Three Impositions
Happy 23rd everyone! It's 12:35am, and I nearly forgot again. It's been a very busy day; I cooked Christmas dinner for eight of my friends. The power cut did not faze me, having to prepare thirty dishes left me a cool as an Arctic cucumber. The shortage of crackers in town, however, nearly drove me over the edge.
The only crackers that could be found were a £24 set in Lakeland, with bells and a score included, so that the diners could merrily ring in the evening with an array of traditional yuletide tunes.
I was sorely tempted, but decided against it in the end. The crackers should never cost more than the meal. In the end, the meal went well, everyone enjoyed it, and Trivial Pursuit was played. Trivial indeed.
The only crackers that could be found were a £24 set in Lakeland, with bells and a score included, so that the diners could merrily ring in the evening with an array of traditional yuletide tunes.
I was sorely tempted, but decided against it in the end. The crackers should never cost more than the meal. In the end, the meal went well, everyone enjoyed it, and Trivial Pursuit was played. Trivial indeed.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Day 19 - Pearl-Handled Tusks
Exciting news everyone - I am blogging in the presence of another. That's right, my friend Nick, of Hogshine infamy, is present as I type, telling me to download Battle for Wesneth. Fear not, my loyal retinue, I'll remain faithful to the alliance.
We just finished a game of Warhammer 40,000, to gently ease our passage back into the hobby. As he so eloquently put it, "It sounds like we're being shat out by some celestial..." Exactly what this celestial being is, seems best left to our imaginations. You know, if your imagination really is that bored at the moment.
He had a 1500 Space Wolf force, assembled and semi painted. I had 588 points of Orks, with various wheels and height missing. My Orks were slaughtered. I managed to kill 9 (count them!) of his marines; 3 from Deffkopta rockets, 1 from a Warbuggy shoota, and 5 at the power klaw of my Warboss. Nick just wondered why I'm specifying who killed who. He does not understand the intricacies of the glory hug, rooting in forests of battle for the truffles of fame.
Commercial announcement: point your internet scopes at http://joth.wordpress.com, which will soon be the site of a Daily Mathematics Morsel, or some other, even more interesting name. The world's press are waiting.
We just finished a game of Warhammer 40,000, to gently ease our passage back into the hobby. As he so eloquently put it, "It sounds like we're being shat out by some celestial..." Exactly what this celestial being is, seems best left to our imaginations. You know, if your imagination really is that bored at the moment.
He had a 1500 Space Wolf force, assembled and semi painted. I had 588 points of Orks, with various wheels and height missing. My Orks were slaughtered. I managed to kill 9 (count them!) of his marines; 3 from Deffkopta rockets, 1 from a Warbuggy shoota, and 5 at the power klaw of my Warboss. Nick just wondered why I'm specifying who killed who. He does not understand the intricacies of the glory hug, rooting in forests of battle for the truffles of fame.
Commercial announcement: point your internet scopes at http://joth.wordpress.com, which will soon be the site of a Daily Mathematics Morsel, or some other, even more interesting name. The world's press are waiting.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Day 18 - An Interloper Rules
They called me a fool when I invested £7,500 into a crack Research Team of Research. They scorned when I spent another £10,000 furnishing their secret hideout lair with the latest in synthetic nylon fashions. They split their sides giggling when I agreed to have their MySpace addresses tattooed across my back in exchange for their genius.
Yes, my Research Team of Research laughed at all these things, and many more, but finally they have come through for me. All those hard, hard months of pain, stress and kidney-splitting tension have paid off. Behold, their new, patent pending idea: Blogging from Bed.
'Nuff said.
The blogging world is nothing without cross-fertilisation, and mutual cooperation. I'd like to present three blogs of my friends. Please, go and have a look. Maybe they'll link back to me, in a fit of generosity. For your benefit, I've also included brief reviews.
The New Utovsky Bolshevik Show
When the word 'blog' was hatched in the Word Caverns of Dictionairre, surely it was to describe this fine example of keyboardmanship. No other display of digital craftsmanship can come close to shining the polish on this magnificent, daring example of what Man is capable of, at his highest. 3/10.
Blogshine/
It took some effort to stop retching enough, and gather the blasted remnants of my higher brain functions to actually form these words after just a cursory glance at this putrescent pile of excrement. I pray that the...producer of this insult to the universe does not regard himself as human, for it would be a crushing argument against any sort of order in the world that it had managed to produce a being that could throw up such vile and egregious work.
10/10.
An Enlightening and Fascinating Read
Written by a lady of the highest taste and eye for the finer things in life, this is an honest and compelling account of life as it should be lived. Read this today, and just realise how much better your life could be. Nick.
Yes, my Research Team of Research laughed at all these things, and many more, but finally they have come through for me. All those hard, hard months of pain, stress and kidney-splitting tension have paid off. Behold, their new, patent pending idea: Blogging from Bed.
'Nuff said.
The blogging world is nothing without cross-fertilisation, and mutual cooperation. I'd like to present three blogs of my friends. Please, go and have a look. Maybe they'll link back to me, in a fit of generosity. For your benefit, I've also included brief reviews.
The New Utovsky Bolshevik Show
When the word 'blog' was hatched in the Word Caverns of Dictionairre, surely it was to describe this fine example of keyboardmanship. No other display of digital craftsmanship can come close to shining the polish on this magnificent, daring example of what Man is capable of, at his highest. 3/10.
Blogshine/
It took some effort to stop retching enough, and gather the blasted remnants of my higher brain functions to actually form these words after just a cursory glance at this putrescent pile of excrement. I pray that the...producer of this insult to the universe does not regard himself as human, for it would be a crushing argument against any sort of order in the world that it had managed to produce a being that could throw up such vile and egregious work.
10/10.
An Enlightening and Fascinating Read
Written by a lady of the highest taste and eye for the finer things in life, this is an honest and compelling account of life as it should be lived. Read this today, and just realise how much better your life could be. Nick.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Day 17 - MicroPrimes
Another tiring day. Started off with a nice lie in (till 9am!), then I spent a couple of hours playing with my little brother, and watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. He insisted that I close my eyes whenever the boring love songs came on; I'm not sure why, but I didn't mind that much.
Then a horrendous three hour drive up to Nottingham to pick my sister up; picked her up after getting lost in Nottingham's warren of streets; had the best burger in my life for lunch; drove back, laughed at on the way; got into a car accident just outside Bourne!
It was dark, somebody had stopped in front of me, confusion reigned and the front of my car hit the back of theirs. Nobody was injured, fortunately, but both cars were quite badly damaged. My dad came out, sorted out a recovery vehicle, and I get to make the happy call to the insurance people tomorrow.
A terse blog; but I am quite tired. Hence the overuse of semicolons in this post; you're lucky I blogged at all. Damn lucky.
Then a horrendous three hour drive up to Nottingham to pick my sister up; picked her up after getting lost in Nottingham's warren of streets; had the best burger in my life for lunch; drove back, laughed at on the way; got into a car accident just outside Bourne!
It was dark, somebody had stopped in front of me, confusion reigned and the front of my car hit the back of theirs. Nobody was injured, fortunately, but both cars were quite badly damaged. My dad came out, sorted out a recovery vehicle, and I get to make the happy call to the insurance people tomorrow.
A terse blog; but I am quite tired. Hence the overuse of semicolons in this post; you're lucky I blogged at all. Damn lucky.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Day 16 - Architectural Darkening
Check it out. 5:16pm. I'm the biz, alright. Some people are clearly toying with me, however - my threats are not empty (human nature abhors a vacuum). If you don't comment within the next 48 hours, you will be named and shamed. There are 56 people on my list so far, some of whom would no doubt rather stay out of the media attention for now. I'm looking at you, Dark Lord of X...
My quest for how to include LaTeX maths in this blog continues to be fruitless. I have, however, learnt the perils of typing any phrase including the word "latex" into Google. Always check the description of links before you click on them. This is important.
http://wolverine-mathematic.blogspot.com/ claims to have accomplished this, but I can only see little white boxes. Anyone else see different?
I'm going to my Dad's in four minutes. Another early morning - I was very busy. Episode of the West Wing, then read Batman, then played Blood Bowl on FUMBBL, watched Invader Zim, had a bath, watched some more West Wing, had some pizza. I need to do some revision soon.
My quest for how to include LaTeX maths in this blog continues to be fruitless. I have, however, learnt the perils of typing any phrase including the word "latex" into Google. Always check the description of links before you click on them. This is important.
http://wolverine-mathematic.blogspot.com/ claims to have accomplished this, but I can only see little white boxes. Anyone else see different?
I'm going to my Dad's in four minutes. Another early morning - I was very busy. Episode of the West Wing, then read Batman, then played Blood Bowl on FUMBBL, watched Invader Zim, had a bath, watched some more West Wing, had some pizza. I need to do some revision soon.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Day 15 - Elements in an Automobile
Exhausted, is the word for this feeling right now. Yet here I am. Again. Damn you, Blog! Damn yoooouuuu!!!
Still, I can't let down my loyal readers. Make yourself known, everybody! Comment on this post, answering the following questions:
1) Why do you read this blog?
2) What's the best thing about me?
3) What would be your preferred method for my execution?
4) Who will be first against the wall when the revolution comes?
5) Shoe shopping. What's that all about?
If you don't come forward yourself, I will name and shame you in the next blog. I know who you are; a little known rider on a recent Act of Parliament allows all bloggers to install secret cameras in the internet to film people reading their blog.
And running will do you no good. They're wireless cameras. Fooools!
[I may have been watching too much Invader Zim today.]
I also went to see Julia sing in the choir of St Martin's church, Stamford, in a beautiful performance of ye olde English christmas songs. Overall it was a mellow, melodic...choir sort of event (all-female), with the occasional bit of dynamism and fun. A great mixture.
"Inspiring. Four stars!" - Me, the Internet.
Still, I can't let down my loyal readers. Make yourself known, everybody! Comment on this post, answering the following questions:
1) Why do you read this blog?
2) What's the best thing about me?
3) What would be your preferred method for my execution?
4) Who will be first against the wall when the revolution comes?
5) Shoe shopping. What's that all about?
If you don't come forward yourself, I will name and shame you in the next blog. I know who you are; a little known rider on a recent Act of Parliament allows all bloggers to install secret cameras in the internet to film people reading their blog.
And running will do you no good. They're wireless cameras. Fooools!
[I may have been watching too much Invader Zim today.]
I also went to see Julia sing in the choir of St Martin's church, Stamford, in a beautiful performance of ye olde English christmas songs. Overall it was a mellow, melodic...choir sort of event (all-female), with the occasional bit of dynamism and fun. A great mixture.
"Inspiring. Four stars!" - Me, the Internet.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Day 14 - Adeptus for Scouts
I must stop blogging so late; it leaves me no time to say anything of substance. Still, as the saying goes, "Better saying something than nothing at all." I think that's how the saying goes, and has the dark gremlins of Sleep and Sore Eyes start to circle, it'll have to do.
A friend of mine at university is deeply involved in the local - indeed, the national - bell ringing scene. A keen Campanologist. Apparently, there is a big subculture, where everybody knows each other, and gossip spreads faster than vibrations through two hundred year old copper.
There must be millions of subcultures in British society alone, which are everything to those involved, and nothing to those who aren't. Whole microcosms of intrigue, lust and betrayal, where the actual hobby in question is nothing more than an elaborate password into this hidden social world, where recognition is easy but acceptance is impossible (or possibly the other way around).
Campanologists, I'm sure, are nothing like this, and just really like bell ringing. Let's hope, anyway. The nation's Sunday mornings are in their hands.
A friend of mine at university is deeply involved in the local - indeed, the national - bell ringing scene. A keen Campanologist. Apparently, there is a big subculture, where everybody knows each other, and gossip spreads faster than vibrations through two hundred year old copper.
There must be millions of subcultures in British society alone, which are everything to those involved, and nothing to those who aren't. Whole microcosms of intrigue, lust and betrayal, where the actual hobby in question is nothing more than an elaborate password into this hidden social world, where recognition is easy but acceptance is impossible (or possibly the other way around).
Campanologists, I'm sure, are nothing like this, and just really like bell ringing. Let's hope, anyway. The nation's Sunday mornings are in their hands.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Day 13 - Up Like a Lead Rock
Phew, that was close. I just stumbled in from baby sitting next door, my eyes already tired. "I must sleep now," I thought, as I shambled upstairs, "I have to wake up at 5:30am again." Fortunately, my laptop screen was on, and the harsh glare stared at me accusingly.
(Can a glare stare? It can now.)
So, here I am. What did I do today? Drove Julia to work, slept, watched Zim, played Crossbow Training, watched Speed ("Spid"), read Frege, babysat. Why would you want to here about that though? Heck, I've only got seven minutes before I go to bed, and I'm not going to waste that precious time telling you all the little details.
Six minutes. A stitch in time saves nine. Oh darn. So what should I write about today?
Topology. Five minutes.
Topology deals with properties that hold of a shape (surface, space, object, etc) no matter how you stretch or squeeze it. Topologically speaking, a coffee cup is the same as a doughnut (the kind with a hole in the middle, that is). Mathematically speaking, this is done by giving a certain set (i.e. the space, all the points on the coffee cup, or doughnut, or sphere) and a certain structure on them.
This is how anything is given, really. A mug, regarded 'normally', is just a set of points with the structure "this bit goes there, this bit goes underneath it, ..." and so on.
Viewing it topologically, we're not concerned with all this elaborate structure; only the sort of structure that doesn't change when we squeeze, stretch, inflate, and so on.
This is done via 'open sets'. That is, a notion of 'closeness' that is preserved under stretching. When the surface is stretched, so are the open sets, so this closeness is preserved. Of course, poking a hole in the surface is not allowed, since this might change some open sets.
So, a topology on a set is a collection of sets, which we call the open sets, obeying certain axioms to make sure that we can't just have any old sets as the open sets. We can still have a lot though; especially remember that the same set can have many, infinitely many different topologies.
A topological space is a set with a topology, i.e. a collection of open sets. Topology deals with topological spaces.
0 minutes. Good night.
(Can a glare stare? It can now.)
So, here I am. What did I do today? Drove Julia to work, slept, watched Zim, played Crossbow Training, watched Speed ("Spid"), read Frege, babysat. Why would you want to here about that though? Heck, I've only got seven minutes before I go to bed, and I'm not going to waste that precious time telling you all the little details.
Six minutes. A stitch in time saves nine. Oh darn. So what should I write about today?
Topology. Five minutes.
Topology deals with properties that hold of a shape (surface, space, object, etc) no matter how you stretch or squeeze it. Topologically speaking, a coffee cup is the same as a doughnut (the kind with a hole in the middle, that is). Mathematically speaking, this is done by giving a certain set (i.e. the space, all the points on the coffee cup, or doughnut, or sphere) and a certain structure on them.
This is how anything is given, really. A mug, regarded 'normally', is just a set of points with the structure "this bit goes there, this bit goes underneath it, ..." and so on.
Viewing it topologically, we're not concerned with all this elaborate structure; only the sort of structure that doesn't change when we squeeze, stretch, inflate, and so on.
This is done via 'open sets'. That is, a notion of 'closeness' that is preserved under stretching. When the surface is stretched, so are the open sets, so this closeness is preserved. Of course, poking a hole in the surface is not allowed, since this might change some open sets.
So, a topology on a set is a collection of sets, which we call the open sets, obeying certain axioms to make sure that we can't just have any old sets as the open sets. We can still have a lot though; especially remember that the same set can have many, infinitely many different topologies.
A topological space is a set with a topology, i.e. a collection of open sets. Topology deals with topological spaces.
0 minutes. Good night.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Day 12 - The Doom Song
I would like to introduce the newest hopeless appendage to the student body: his name is Zim.
'Nuff said, people.
I did indeed wake up at 5am this morning, and it was tough. I managed it though, and after swiftly dressing in my usual style, I brewed an emergency cup of tea and drove through the misty streets to Julia's house. I picked her up (discovering that the emergency cup was in vain) and dropped her off at the Post Office.
Taking advantage of the early morning, I squeezed in two games of Blood Bowl before 8am (I forget the results), had a bath, watched OutNumbered, then walked into town to do some Frege reading at the library. Unfortunately, I got distracted and instead read Sandman graphic novels. An equally valuable use of my time? I think so.
Tomorrow morning, however, I will do some proper work. Really, this time. And now, to bed.
'Nuff said, people.
I did indeed wake up at 5am this morning, and it was tough. I managed it though, and after swiftly dressing in my usual style, I brewed an emergency cup of tea and drove through the misty streets to Julia's house. I picked her up (discovering that the emergency cup was in vain) and dropped her off at the Post Office.
Taking advantage of the early morning, I squeezed in two games of Blood Bowl before 8am (I forget the results), had a bath, watched OutNumbered, then walked into town to do some Frege reading at the library. Unfortunately, I got distracted and instead read Sandman graphic novels. An equally valuable use of my time? I think so.
Tomorrow morning, however, I will do some proper work. Really, this time. And now, to bed.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Day 11 - An Of Course in Trivia
Happy Repunit, everybody!
I managed to wake up at the earlier time of 9am this morning. I'm going to bed after I've written this as well; I'm waking up at 5am tomorrow, so I can give Julia a lift to her new Post Office employment by 6. I'm either mad, bad, or dangerous to know. I'm just not sure which.
Haven't accomplished much in these twelve hours; I did some reading, some gluing, watched a bit of TV, and went to my grandparents for three hours. It was my grandfather's 83rd birthday, so me, my father, and my little brother went over there. He was a terror (in a cute way, obviously), but he was easily distracted by lego that I remember playing with when I was his age.
In a further blast from the past, we had tea (i.e. sandwiches, cake and tea) on the same little table and the same tablecloth that I remembered as a wee lad. We used to have tea like that every Sunday afternoon. Aah, halcyon days of childhood.
I'm impressed with myself, I have to say. I've done 9 out of the 11 days so far. And, as everyone knows,
Happy 57 months Julia :)
I managed to wake up at the earlier time of 9am this morning. I'm going to bed after I've written this as well; I'm waking up at 5am tomorrow, so I can give Julia a lift to her new Post Office employment by 6. I'm either mad, bad, or dangerous to know. I'm just not sure which.
Haven't accomplished much in these twelve hours; I did some reading, some gluing, watched a bit of TV, and went to my grandparents for three hours. It was my grandfather's 83rd birthday, so me, my father, and my little brother went over there. He was a terror (in a cute way, obviously), but he was easily distracted by lego that I remember playing with when I was his age.
In a further blast from the past, we had tea (i.e. sandwiches, cake and tea) on the same little table and the same tablecloth that I remembered as a wee lad. We used to have tea like that every Sunday afternoon. Aah, halcyon days of childhood.
I'm impressed with myself, I have to say. I've done 9 out of the 11 days so far. And, as everyone knows,
\inline \small \lim{n\rightarrow\infty}(\frac{n-2}{n})=1Happy 57 months Julia :)
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Day 10 - Double Trouble
Here's more of this Blogging Malarkey. Me and Julia just finished watching The Truman Show - a film that I love, especially Jim Carey's performance. Julia was less impressed; she gets too emotionally involved with her films.
The film was on my laptop, so we couldn't watch it on the TV. I bravely offered to rig up the showing with the large external monitor, for Greater Viewing Enjoyment. This proved to be a major technical undertaking. The desk had to be moved, speakers unplugged, laptop moved, monitor found, and everything set up in a different location. Then I fiddled around with my laptop, while the external monitor flashed ever more worrying shades of green. Nothing should be that green, especially nothing electronic.
Fortunately, it was all fixed, and Our Viewing Enjoyment was Enhanced. Another catastrophe this evening; we'd gone out to a local restaurant, but after the meal, I discovered that my wallet was missing my bank card. I screamed, I shouted, I tore out the hair of both myself and nearby diners, but to no avail. My card had been forgotten back at my house, which was not in the same location as the restaurant.
So, I walked back through whistling blizzards and humming hurricanes, found my card (which was looking annoying smug) and drove back to the restaurant. Julia had been sipping a gin and tonic and laughing with the bartender, no doubt. I paid, and we drove home. Another hilarious episode in the Tom Show.
The film was on my laptop, so we couldn't watch it on the TV. I bravely offered to rig up the showing with the large external monitor, for Greater Viewing Enjoyment. This proved to be a major technical undertaking. The desk had to be moved, speakers unplugged, laptop moved, monitor found, and everything set up in a different location. Then I fiddled around with my laptop, while the external monitor flashed ever more worrying shades of green. Nothing should be that green, especially nothing electronic.
Fortunately, it was all fixed, and Our Viewing Enjoyment was Enhanced. Another catastrophe this evening; we'd gone out to a local restaurant, but after the meal, I discovered that my wallet was missing my bank card. I screamed, I shouted, I tore out the hair of both myself and nearby diners, but to no avail. My card had been forgotten back at my house, which was not in the same location as the restaurant.
So, I walked back through whistling blizzards and humming hurricanes, found my card (which was looking annoying smug) and drove back to the restaurant. Julia had been sipping a gin and tonic and laughing with the bartender, no doubt. I paid, and we drove home. Another hilarious episode in the Tom Show.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Day 9 - 9 8 8
My titles have just become injokes with myself now. They're not even very funny injokes, to make matters worse. I know, I know. I missed Day 8. My shame is incalculable. No excuses, let's press onwards.
Imagine my dismay to come back to my laptop to find the following message from a 'friend' on identi.ca: "You are failing at this blog malarkey. Sorry."
I'm not sure which I should be more insulted at. The insulting second person pronoun? The one word apology? Or the shocking use of 'malarkey' to refer to this noble pasttime? How the heck do you spell pasttime? Pastime? Past-time? Tricky.
I went to my Dad's last night, to babysit my little brother. Me and Julia watched the Matrix. Now there's a film with symbolism. It had symbolism literally coming out of its ears. I was struggling to watch the film properly, worried that I had missed some wayward sigh that was an esoteric reference to the struggle of the Cathars in Languedoc.
Darn, I was going to post about analytic number theory in this paragraph. I can't figure out how to put nicely laid out mathematics in a blog, however. This seems like a problem that must have been overcome. I've seen good mathematics blogs; I've read them! It must be some sort of Mathematical Mafia, trying to lock me out. Harsh.
Cat urine removal continues. Vinegar is a powerful tool, but not powerful enough, it seems. Perhaps if I persuade a bigger cat to urinate on it, it will cancel it out. I should have listened in GCSE Biology. I'm sure this came up at some point.
Imagine my dismay to come back to my laptop to find the following message from a 'friend' on identi.ca: "You are failing at this blog malarkey. Sorry."
I'm not sure which I should be more insulted at. The insulting second person pronoun? The one word apology? Or the shocking use of 'malarkey' to refer to this noble pasttime? How the heck do you spell pasttime? Pastime? Past-time? Tricky.
I went to my Dad's last night, to babysit my little brother. Me and Julia watched the Matrix. Now there's a film with symbolism. It had symbolism literally coming out of its ears. I was struggling to watch the film properly, worried that I had missed some wayward sigh that was an esoteric reference to the struggle of the Cathars in Languedoc.
Darn, I was going to post about analytic number theory in this paragraph. I can't figure out how to put nicely laid out mathematics in a blog, however. This seems like a problem that must have been overcome. I've seen good mathematics blogs; I've read them! It must be some sort of Mathematical Mafia, trying to lock me out. Harsh.
Cat urine removal continues. Vinegar is a powerful tool, but not powerful enough, it seems. Perhaps if I persuade a bigger cat to urinate on it, it will cancel it out. I should have listened in GCSE Biology. I'm sure this came up at some point.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Day 7 - Another Close Shave
11:58pm! I made it! Also note that I'm counting these times from the start of the writing, rather than the end. Just returned home from Julia's house, where we were watching Ratatouille - an excellent film, especially due to one particular scene. Fantastic.
I was also present for the decoration of Julia's christmas tree. Being generally incompetent at tasks involving small delicate objects, I gave myself a battlefield promotion to official Documentor, with responsibility for photography and a minute by minute log. Hopefully Julia will blog that soon, to save me the trouble.
She has also suffered a feline urinary catastrophe (pun not intended, though subsequently noticed and left unchanged). I need to find a way to remove the lingering smell of cat pee from a small box. Any ideas, Internet Readers? Open book, now.
My reading on Problems in Analytic Number Theory continues. I really need to become good at maths. I mean...I'm good at what I do, but I don't really understand it properly. It feels like everything I'm doing is trivial manipulation - sometimes very difficult or impossible trivial manipulation, but still. I need insight, I need understanding. A fresh view of things. Playing with pebbles on the beach, when I want to be windsurfing.
Such things will be resolved, after sleep.
I was also present for the decoration of Julia's christmas tree. Being generally incompetent at tasks involving small delicate objects, I gave myself a battlefield promotion to official Documentor, with responsibility for photography and a minute by minute log. Hopefully Julia will blog that soon, to save me the trouble.
She has also suffered a feline urinary catastrophe (pun not intended, though subsequently noticed and left unchanged). I need to find a way to remove the lingering smell of cat pee from a small box. Any ideas, Internet Readers? Open book, now.
My reading on Problems in Analytic Number Theory continues. I really need to become good at maths. I mean...I'm good at what I do, but I don't really understand it properly. It feels like everything I'm doing is trivial manipulation - sometimes very difficult or impossible trivial manipulation, but still. I need insight, I need understanding. A fresh view of things. Playing with pebbles on the beach, when I want to be windsurfing.
Such things will be resolved, after sleep.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Day 6 - An Assortment of Dishwater
Another lonely day at home, just me and the dog. Julia was gallavanting in Leicester, and the rest of my family was out at work, leaving my itinerant student self to roam the echoing halls like an industrious ghost.
Industrious, indeed! I did some housework, played with the dog, tidied the kitchen, read some of Rudin's analysis, and watched SIX episodes of Frasier. My stamina astounds me. I also watched the Dark Knight whilst attempting to construct the rest of my Ork Horde.
Unfortunately, the glue is either too weak, too old, or inproperly applied, so most of my good work so far probably won't last too long. Such is a summary of the day's events, but that's not what you came for, is it? You want me to dish the dirt, the skinny, the low-down, the real Red Mary on measure theory.
You sly dog, you. Wassamatter, Riemann integral not good enough for you anymore? Integrating continuous functions over compact intervals just doesn't get your jazz flowing? Don't worry, you crafty mathematical artiste. Lebesgue integration can sort out your troubles.
Even more so, the definition can be extended to work out an integral for ANY measurable function on ANY measure space, not just the same boring old real numbers.
In fact, by defining different measures on the same space, lots of different facts from different areas turn out to be special cases of quite broad theorems in measure theory.
For example, an infinite sum is 'really' just a normal integral with counting measure rather than Lebesgue measure.
Don't understand what I'm talking about? Check Wikipedia for now. When I figure out how to put nice Latex into blog posts, I might start doing some nice exposition.
Well, I've just received an interesting proposition: Blood Bowl against an old opponent. He mocks me with his "\o/" smiley. So you can raise your arms above your head, eh? He's just trying to make me jealous. I've had the nickname "Acute armpit" since Year 4. Sickening.
Today's trivia: "Do not accept a bribe, for a bribe blinds those who see and twists the words of the righteous." Thanks, Exodus 23:8!
Industrious, indeed! I did some housework, played with the dog, tidied the kitchen, read some of Rudin's analysis, and watched SIX episodes of Frasier. My stamina astounds me. I also watched the Dark Knight whilst attempting to construct the rest of my Ork Horde.
Unfortunately, the glue is either too weak, too old, or inproperly applied, so most of my good work so far probably won't last too long. Such is a summary of the day's events, but that's not what you came for, is it? You want me to dish the dirt, the skinny, the low-down, the real Red Mary on measure theory.
You sly dog, you. Wassamatter, Riemann integral not good enough for you anymore? Integrating continuous functions over compact intervals just doesn't get your jazz flowing? Don't worry, you crafty mathematical artiste. Lebesgue integration can sort out your troubles.
Even more so, the definition can be extended to work out an integral for ANY measurable function on ANY measure space, not just the same boring old real numbers.
In fact, by defining different measures on the same space, lots of different facts from different areas turn out to be special cases of quite broad theorems in measure theory.
For example, an infinite sum is 'really' just a normal integral with counting measure rather than Lebesgue measure.
Don't understand what I'm talking about? Check Wikipedia for now. When I figure out how to put nice Latex into blog posts, I might start doing some nice exposition.
Well, I've just received an interesting proposition: Blood Bowl against an old opponent. He mocks me with his "\o/" smiley. So you can raise your arms above your head, eh? He's just trying to make me jealous. I've had the nickname "Acute armpit" since Year 4. Sickening.
Today's trivia: "Do not accept a bribe, for a bribe blinds those who see and twists the words of the righteous." Thanks, Exodus 23:8!
Day 5 - No, really
This counts, OK? I won't let my days be bound by some dictatorial clock. This is still part of my working day, and so this counts as a post on Day 5. I blame Paramount Comedy for stealing away my evening. Let this be a lesson to me: never too early to blog.
So, today, I started gluing my Ork models onto their bases. So far: 8 models done. Now just the arms, heads, undercoats, and paints. Apply to many other models, and an army is formed, ready to hack and slash their way to a fictional victory.
Perhaps I could create a new Grey Clan of Orks, so I don't have to paint them? They'd still stare accusingly at me with their plastic eyes. "Grant us life!" they cry, but I must be strong. Through weakness lies madness, and then it's hard to hold down a steady job.
Also today, me and Julia drove to the Royal Mail Parcel Depot on Papyrus Road {{Emergency announcement: The Playbus TV theme just started playing on my laptop. Beautiful.}} to collect parcels for her, my mother and my stepfather. None for me, sadly (donations always welcome).
Julia would here expect some embellished tale of our journey to the Parcel Depot, full of trials, dragons and other hilariously dangerous elements. I simply refuse to indulge her, however. The truth will stand, however dragon-free it may be.
We drove there, uneventfully. There was a good CD in the car, and the roads were reasonably busy, but not inconveniently so. The sky was such an unmemorable shade I don't even remember it, and no scrapes or shindigs were suffered by anyone. A moderately convenient parking space was found, and after a brief but manageable queue, we collected the parcels, hassle free. We drove back to Julia's, again uneventfully, and had tea there.
And throughout, the dragon had slept quietly in my back seat, alright? I will not make stuff up simply to jazz things up. My life is full of jazz already; it's a constant midnight show.
Today's reading: Problems in Analytic Number Theory, again. I've started working through them properly now, mostly while watching the mentioned Paramount Comedy. No big problems so far (though some of my reasoning is a little sketchy, I admit). I also haven't used one of the conditions in the statement of a theorem within my proof of it, which is always a bad sign. Maybe something will occur to me later.
Today's trivia: Poseidon made Pasiphae, wife of Minos, fall in love with a bull. She got an architect to build her a wooden model of one, so she could copulate with it. The result: the Minotaur.
That's the disgusting part of the legend.
So, today, I started gluing my Ork models onto their bases. So far: 8 models done. Now just the arms, heads, undercoats, and paints. Apply to many other models, and an army is formed, ready to hack and slash their way to a fictional victory.
Perhaps I could create a new Grey Clan of Orks, so I don't have to paint them? They'd still stare accusingly at me with their plastic eyes. "Grant us life!" they cry, but I must be strong. Through weakness lies madness, and then it's hard to hold down a steady job.
Also today, me and Julia drove to the Royal Mail Parcel Depot on Papyrus Road {{Emergency announcement: The Playbus TV theme just started playing on my laptop. Beautiful.}} to collect parcels for her, my mother and my stepfather. None for me, sadly (donations always welcome).
Julia would here expect some embellished tale of our journey to the Parcel Depot, full of trials, dragons and other hilariously dangerous elements. I simply refuse to indulge her, however. The truth will stand, however dragon-free it may be.
We drove there, uneventfully. There was a good CD in the car, and the roads were reasonably busy, but not inconveniently so. The sky was such an unmemorable shade I don't even remember it, and no scrapes or shindigs were suffered by anyone. A moderately convenient parking space was found, and after a brief but manageable queue, we collected the parcels, hassle free. We drove back to Julia's, again uneventfully, and had tea there.
And throughout, the dragon had slept quietly in my back seat, alright? I will not make stuff up simply to jazz things up. My life is full of jazz already; it's a constant midnight show.
Today's reading: Problems in Analytic Number Theory, again. I've started working through them properly now, mostly while watching the mentioned Paramount Comedy. No big problems so far (though some of my reasoning is a little sketchy, I admit). I also haven't used one of the conditions in the statement of a theorem within my proof of it, which is always a bad sign. Maybe something will occur to me later.
Today's trivia: Poseidon made Pasiphae, wife of Minos, fall in love with a bull. She got an architect to build her a wooden model of one, so she could copulate with it. The result: the Minotaur.
That's the disgusting part of the legend.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Day 4 - And then he turned on the death ray
Bwa ha ha ha ha ha. That's four (minus one) days in a row, oh you naysayers. The scale of my triumph grows like bamboo, and the giant panda of disappointment is nowhere in sight.
In the hoped for side effect, the more I am blogging, the easier it becomes each time. Hopefully, by day 31, it will become an ingrained habit that I can't kick. I'll start blogging every day, every hour, and eventually every minute. My life will grind to a standstill as I blog about blogging. My fingers will start to bleed, my feet will turn to rock, and my eyes will become square. Oh, the grandmothers' adage is oh so true.
Today, I had two roast dinners. The first was beef, at my father's home, and the second chicken, at my mother's. In the interest of parental harmony, I won't compare the quality of the meals here; I loved them both. After the lunchtime dinner, I watched Wall-E with my family and Julia.
I was slightly distracted by my younger brother clambering over me. He made fart noises on my elbow, and then proudly announced that I had a "bottom on my arm." Unexpectedly, he didn't descend into his usual fit of giggles after this use of the word bottom. He clearly appreciated the severe medical consequences of having your rectum entwined with your biceps.
He should be a doctor. Sadly, however, his dreams of lumberjacking are still strong. When we left, he was helping my stepmother/his mother assemble an artificial tree, that will "never come down". May Christmas last forever.
Reading today: An Introduction to Hilbert Spaces. I only managed the first two pages, whilst on the toilet. I must try to concentrate on more than a couple of pages of these books.
Trivia for today: Charles Darwin was on the Galapagos islands for five weeks.
In the hoped for side effect, the more I am blogging, the easier it becomes each time. Hopefully, by day 31, it will become an ingrained habit that I can't kick. I'll start blogging every day, every hour, and eventually every minute. My life will grind to a standstill as I blog about blogging. My fingers will start to bleed, my feet will turn to rock, and my eyes will become square. Oh, the grandmothers' adage is oh so true.
Today, I had two roast dinners. The first was beef, at my father's home, and the second chicken, at my mother's. In the interest of parental harmony, I won't compare the quality of the meals here; I loved them both. After the lunchtime dinner, I watched Wall-E with my family and Julia.
I was slightly distracted by my younger brother clambering over me. He made fart noises on my elbow, and then proudly announced that I had a "bottom on my arm." Unexpectedly, he didn't descend into his usual fit of giggles after this use of the word bottom. He clearly appreciated the severe medical consequences of having your rectum entwined with your biceps.
He should be a doctor. Sadly, however, his dreams of lumberjacking are still strong. When we left, he was helping my stepmother/his mother assemble an artificial tree, that will "never come down". May Christmas last forever.
Reading today: An Introduction to Hilbert Spaces. I only managed the first two pages, whilst on the toilet. I must try to concentrate on more than a couple of pages of these books.
Trivia for today: Charles Darwin was on the Galapagos islands for five weeks.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Day 3 - A Non Orientable Post
I did it! Only 16 minutes to go before the day ends, but I remembered. The seal has been cast, the die has been broken. Let the good times roll.
I'm back in Peterborough now, much to the chagrin of the nomadic tribe of bird-men that had taken up residence in my room in my absence. I explained to them (politely, of course) that my day to day life and the international smuggling of Grade A corn just wouldn't be compatible. I must have ruffled some feathers, however, and they left, threatening "We'll be beak!"
They were South African, of course.
Tonight, I went to see Julia's sister in her school's production of Fame! (the exclamation mark is obligatory). A sterling performance, and she soloed in easily the best song of the night. Very talented.
Amusement was also afforded by a few technical glitches and rogue hats, but mar they could not such a night. Awkward sentence structure there, but a true artist must never revise his work.
Reading for this evening was "Problems in Analytic Number Theory" by M. Ram Mury. I should try and actually work through them this vacation, instead of just reading the solutions at the back. It's a soul/knowledge building exercise.
And your parting trivia:
Marian Anderson was the first black soloist to sing at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York City, in 1955.
Learn it, use it, love it, live it.
I'm back in Peterborough now, much to the chagrin of the nomadic tribe of bird-men that had taken up residence in my room in my absence. I explained to them (politely, of course) that my day to day life and the international smuggling of Grade A corn just wouldn't be compatible. I must have ruffled some feathers, however, and they left, threatening "We'll be beak!"
They were South African, of course.
Tonight, I went to see Julia's sister in her school's production of Fame! (the exclamation mark is obligatory). A sterling performance, and she soloed in easily the best song of the night. Very talented.
Amusement was also afforded by a few technical glitches and rogue hats, but mar they could not such a night. Awkward sentence structure there, but a true artist must never revise his work.
Reading for this evening was "Problems in Analytic Number Theory" by M. Ram Mury. I should try and actually work through them this vacation, instead of just reading the solutions at the back. It's a soul/knowledge building exercise.
And your parting trivia:
Marian Anderson was the first black soloist to sing at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York City, in 1955.
Learn it, use it, love it, live it.
Friday, December 05, 2008
Day 2 - There is no number one
Oh dear, oh dear. I let myself down on the first day. That is truly shameful. I'll have to stop referring to the blogging process like this, lest it become too self-referential and end up in some dreadful logical paradox (a blog that denounces itself as constantly wrong...)
This morning I had a class in Godel's Theorems; the last class of the term, and we've moved onto provability logic. It's either a topic that appears very simple but is actually very complicated, or vice versa. It's hard to tell, really.
Also, tomorrow I return home, back to Peterborough, city of sunshine and smiles. My packing has not been started, and there are many books I need to get out for my vacation reading (finals only 24 weeks away, y'know?). More pressing that these concerns, however, is my stomach.
About two hours ago, I felt the first pangs. I knew what was coming; "No breakfast?!? You fool!". I cursed myself inwardly as my innards were cursing. I thought I could pull through. I had a large supper the night before! Midnight cake! Yet it was all for nothing, and hunger consumed my mind.
I can think of little else. The only reason I'm writing this now is that I've dangled an eclair above the monitor, and accidentally hit the keyboard with my flailing limbs as I lunge desparately towards it. The hunger consumes me, and drives me to consume in turn.
My focus is fading. Sight grows dim, and The Who is singing about Teenage Cakeland. I must go; blogging is important, but so is a good hot lunch. Farewell.
This morning I had a class in Godel's Theorems; the last class of the term, and we've moved onto provability logic. It's either a topic that appears very simple but is actually very complicated, or vice versa. It's hard to tell, really.
Also, tomorrow I return home, back to Peterborough, city of sunshine and smiles. My packing has not been started, and there are many books I need to get out for my vacation reading (finals only 24 weeks away, y'know?). More pressing that these concerns, however, is my stomach.
About two hours ago, I felt the first pangs. I knew what was coming; "No breakfast?!? You fool!". I cursed myself inwardly as my innards were cursing. I thought I could pull through. I had a large supper the night before! Midnight cake! Yet it was all for nothing, and hunger consumed my mind.
I can think of little else. The only reason I'm writing this now is that I've dangled an eclair above the monitor, and accidentally hit the keyboard with my flailing limbs as I lunge desparately towards it. The hunger consumes me, and drives me to consume in turn.
My focus is fading. Sight grows dim, and The Who is singing about Teenage Cakeland. I must go; blogging is important, but so is a good hot lunch. Farewell.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Day 0 - Or How I learned to start blogging and love the moolb
Aah, it's been a long time. In fact, the last time I blogged was almost 18 months ago; I had just finished my first year of university, and was generally much less mature and rounded.
I read my previous posts and scornfully mock myself and my writing. Now, fortunately, I return to my dusty fan base with writing that has immeasurably improved and much wisdom to share with you all.
Following sterling example, this month (from today onwards, at least) I shall blog at least once every day. They may not all be great, or original, or even that spectacular, but they will all be written.
I'll begin with some musing that I got done whilst soaking in the bathtub this morning. What do I want to do in my life? That is, really want to do? I devised a test which I humbly label Tom's Deathbed Test (patent pending):
If I were an old man, lying on my deathbed, thinking on my life, what would the absence of cause regret?
Take that test, rewrite it, change the meaning and style, and you've got something pretty neat. (Does anyone even say neat anymore?) Applying the TDT to myself, I came up with the following list, in alphabetical order:
Mathematics. Writing. (Languages. Musical instrument.)
The brackets are ones I'm not sure about. Of course, this list overlooks such things as having children, a loving wife, beautiful home, and all that jazz. That is larger than the list; it would be more than regret. So let's stick with this level of stuff - purely personal activities.
There are many things that I want to do, that I'm sure I'd enjoy, and hope I do get to do: magic, juggling, travelling, drawing, philosophy, and many other things as well, I'm sure. Heck, most things probably.
Applying the TDT quite strictly at the moment, however, and it results in the limited list above. It may change, but this seems a good way to focus my activities and bear larger goals in mind. Right, this blog has run its course, and now it's time for some sort of treat to reward myself.
I read my previous posts and scornfully mock myself and my writing. Now, fortunately, I return to my dusty fan base with writing that has immeasurably improved and much wisdom to share with you all.
Following sterling example, this month (from today onwards, at least) I shall blog at least once every day. They may not all be great, or original, or even that spectacular, but they will all be written.
I'll begin with some musing that I got done whilst soaking in the bathtub this morning. What do I want to do in my life? That is, really want to do? I devised a test which I humbly label Tom's Deathbed Test (patent pending):
If I were an old man, lying on my deathbed, thinking on my life, what would the absence of cause regret?
Take that test, rewrite it, change the meaning and style, and you've got something pretty neat. (Does anyone even say neat anymore?) Applying the TDT to myself, I came up with the following list, in alphabetical order:
Mathematics. Writing. (Languages. Musical instrument.)
The brackets are ones I'm not sure about. Of course, this list overlooks such things as having children, a loving wife, beautiful home, and all that jazz. That is larger than the list; it would be more than regret. So let's stick with this level of stuff - purely personal activities.
There are many things that I want to do, that I'm sure I'd enjoy, and hope I do get to do: magic, juggling, travelling, drawing, philosophy, and many other things as well, I'm sure. Heck, most things probably.
Applying the TDT quite strictly at the moment, however, and it results in the limited list above. It may change, but this seems a good way to focus my activities and bear larger goals in mind. Right, this blog has run its course, and now it's time for some sort of treat to reward myself.
Monday, June 11, 2007
If you read this blogpost your life will be better
See? How much better do you feel now? Not very much? No? Well, to end this string of vacuous questions, I'll make a statement: the song which this post pays homage to was a great song. You should go and listen to it again, as soon as possible. Then, indeed, your life will be better.
For your education, here are some news stories, arranged by mood, for what you feel like reading:
Interesting, but ominous
Depressing
Light-hearted news
The actual headline should say it all: EXCLUSIVE Britain invaded by furry one-inch monsters that can KILL a human
For your education, here are some news stories, arranged by mood, for what you feel like reading:
Interesting, but ominous
Depressing
Light-hearted news
The actual headline should say it all: EXCLUSIVE Britain invaded by furry one-inch monsters that can KILL a human
Sunday, June 10, 2007
The water hates me
Today, Julia's sister was visiting. To fully immerse her (and ourselves) in the Oxford experience, we decided to go punting. This is how it should have gone:
An idyllic punt down the river, gently floating past the green banks and twittering wildlife. Laughing merrily, and generally messing about on the river. In some moments, it was like this; a lovely experience harking back to better times, when people hadn't evolved legs and had to punt to get around the place. Unfortunately, a lot of it (especially the first part) is better represented by this photo:
Note the subtle distinctions with the previous photo. Both Julia and I have annoyed looks on our faces, as we both try to silently blame the other for losing her sister in the river. I stare hopelessly across to the other bank, where a pack of wild ducks scamper back to their burrows with young Louise as their hostage. Julia is peeved that she had the sandwiches on her when she was taken.
The previous paragraphs contains a (very) few factual inaccuracies. What is true, however, is the actual mechanics of punting did not go as well as I would have hoped. It reminds me of a time (the first time, I hasten to add) when me and Julia decided to go out on a rowing boat around the lake. It says all that needs to be said when I say that we rowed for the first 10 minutes backwards with great difficulty, watched with amusement by the men in the boathouse.
Needless to say, rather than correcting us immediately, they simply smirked on our return an hour later.
An idyllic punt down the river, gently floating past the green banks and twittering wildlife. Laughing merrily, and generally messing about on the river. In some moments, it was like this; a lovely experience harking back to better times, when people hadn't evolved legs and had to punt to get around the place. Unfortunately, a lot of it (especially the first part) is better represented by this photo:
Note the subtle distinctions with the previous photo. Both Julia and I have annoyed looks on our faces, as we both try to silently blame the other for losing her sister in the river. I stare hopelessly across to the other bank, where a pack of wild ducks scamper back to their burrows with young Louise as their hostage. Julia is peeved that she had the sandwiches on her when she was taken.
The previous paragraphs contains a (very) few factual inaccuracies. What is true, however, is the actual mechanics of punting did not go as well as I would have hoped. It reminds me of a time (the first time, I hasten to add) when me and Julia decided to go out on a rowing boat around the lake. It says all that needs to be said when I say that we rowed for the first 10 minutes backwards with great difficulty, watched with amusement by the men in the boathouse.
Needless to say, rather than correcting us immediately, they simply smirked on our return an hour later.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Forteanute times
Today we do indeed live in forteanute times, with so many strange and wonderful things going on around us. Like this story here. Medication gone wrong, or a Vulcan in disguise? You decide.
Many things have been going on in my life, of course, being the socialite daredevil that I am. Today, for example, me and Julia went on a trip to Oxford's Botanical Gardens, which were lovely. I have many photos, but uploading them all onto here would take too long. Email me if you would like to see some.
After that we went to the Queen's Lane Coffee House for some lunch. I had a club sandwich, and Julia had some lasagne. Feeling very mellow and relaxed in the warm weather, I ambled up to the counter to pay, ambling like only a man who has just eaten a club sandwich can.
The waitress was clearly overwhelmed by my ambling skills, so gaped open-mouthed at for a few seconds before getting the bill. My harmony was soon to be shattered, as I discovered that they did not accept cards. I was in half a mind to escape that barbaric place on the nearest gyrocopter, but soon remembered that I was not in Victorian Britain any more. Cursing my misfortune, I had to walk ten miles to a cash machine. Julia had a nap.
Eventually I returned, and paid. We returned home, and I am now writing this blog.
Just another day in the life of me.
Many things have been going on in my life, of course, being the socialite daredevil that I am. Today, for example, me and Julia went on a trip to Oxford's Botanical Gardens, which were lovely. I have many photos, but uploading them all onto here would take too long. Email me if you would like to see some.
After that we went to the Queen's Lane Coffee House for some lunch. I had a club sandwich, and Julia had some lasagne. Feeling very mellow and relaxed in the warm weather, I ambled up to the counter to pay, ambling like only a man who has just eaten a club sandwich can.
The waitress was clearly overwhelmed by my ambling skills, so gaped open-mouthed at for a few seconds before getting the bill. My harmony was soon to be shattered, as I discovered that they did not accept cards. I was in half a mind to escape that barbaric place on the nearest gyrocopter, but soon remembered that I was not in Victorian Britain any more. Cursing my misfortune, I had to walk ten miles to a cash machine. Julia had a nap.
Eventually I returned, and paid. We returned home, and I am now writing this blog.
Just another day in the life of me.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Area 51
This is my 51st post - to celebrate, I am accepting donations of any multiple of £51. Please send them to the usual address.
I did have a great idea for a blog post, but it's proved more difficult than I had thought. I enjoy writing (well, in a way), and intend to to do more of it. Then I thought of the old expression: "A picture is worth a thousand words". Surely, then, a thousand words is worth a picture? I was working from one of Ryan's pictures.
Just a brief aside to promote Ryan and his amazing photography: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rjlothian/
It is difficult to write a thousand words - more so than I had thought. Even more difficult when you're confined to just one picture. The expression has clearly exaggerated a picture's word-worth - a picture's worth 300 words at most (well, most pictures).
I am tempted by a computer offer. That weird glistening sound you just heard was my beloved Julia rolling her eyes with enough force to shake continents. I am tempted by this offer. You can add a 17" TFT monitor for £111.61. A total of £551.60 for an amazing package. 300GB hard drive would mean I could partition it properly, and have both XP (for games and stuff) and Ubuntu for...well, everything that isn't gripped in the stranglehold of commercial copyright.
Soo tempting...I could sell my laptop (probably for around £200...£300 if I'm being optimistic). That's just £350.
Pros: Well, just look at it.
Cons: I'd have no laptop - hence couldn't work in the library, or take it roaming around the house to play Blood Bowl in front of Paramount comedy. Also, it's £350, and considering I need £400 (ish) for Nepal as well, that would mean I would save much less. However, if this Forex thing goes well...
This is mostly for Julia's opinion. Aah, I know what it'll be. But a man can dream...
I did have a great idea for a blog post, but it's proved more difficult than I had thought. I enjoy writing (well, in a way), and intend to to do more of it. Then I thought of the old expression: "A picture is worth a thousand words". Surely, then, a thousand words is worth a picture? I was working from one of Ryan's pictures.
Just a brief aside to promote Ryan and his amazing photography: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rjlothian/
It is difficult to write a thousand words - more so than I had thought. Even more difficult when you're confined to just one picture. The expression has clearly exaggerated a picture's word-worth - a picture's worth 300 words at most (well, most pictures).
I am tempted by a computer offer. That weird glistening sound you just heard was my beloved Julia rolling her eyes with enough force to shake continents. I am tempted by this offer. You can add a 17" TFT monitor for £111.61. A total of £551.60 for an amazing package. 300GB hard drive would mean I could partition it properly, and have both XP (for games and stuff) and Ubuntu for...well, everything that isn't gripped in the stranglehold of commercial copyright.
Soo tempting...I could sell my laptop (probably for around £200...£300 if I'm being optimistic). That's just £350.
Pros: Well, just look at it.
Cons: I'd have no laptop - hence couldn't work in the library, or take it roaming around the house to play Blood Bowl in front of Paramount comedy. Also, it's £350, and considering I need £400 (ish) for Nepal as well, that would mean I would save much less. However, if this Forex thing goes well...
This is mostly for Julia's opinion. Aah, I know what it'll be. But a man can dream...
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
As promised
A second post. All I really have to say is:
Kebab vans are so bad for you, but they're still so good. What's with that?
Kebab vans are so bad for you, but they're still so good. What's with that?
Gone mad with loneliness
Julia's been gone a day, and I am now officially insane due to loneliness. My mind has become so fractured, that I have written myself a list to make sure I do all the things today which I should do today. One of them is 'Blog' - written twice for some reason. I can't clearly recall writing it, as I was very tired at the time.
As it is down on the list twice, today I will blog twice.
It is already 9:20. I think I need to trim down my morning routine, as I woke up at 8:00, and only just finished it. I wake up, go downstairs, and make myself some tea with a big bowl of cereal (today's cereal, for your notebooks, was Frosted Shreddies). In search of something to watch while I enjoy my delicious breakfast treat, I flick through Sky, and end up getting sucked into some cartoon on Boomerang or Nicktoons. After half an hour has passed, I realise I should be moving on, and spring upstairs for my morning bath.
Some people enjoy showers. Some like the stimulating variety of just not knowing how they will wash in the mornings. Some, naming no names, believe that washing removes part of the soul, so refuse to do it on religious grounds.
For me, however, only the bath will do. Sinking into the warm water, and letting the world go on without me as I lose myself in a good book. The two advantages the bath has over the shower are:
1) Lying down beats standing up.
2) You can't read a book in the shower.
I feel these two more than make up for the whole stewing-in-your-own-filth thing. Unfortunately, having no clocks in our bathroom, I usually lose track of time, and emerge and hour later, wrinkled and pink (but damn clean!)
This morning I read Lonely Planet's guide to Nepal, in preparation for my trip in August of this year - 6 weeks of volunteering in the remote mountain kingdom. Any donations to fund the rest of the trip would be much appreciated. Minimum donation amount £100, please (for tax reasons).
See. Loneliness has driven me completely insane.
*uses his psychic powers to draw Julia back*
As it is down on the list twice, today I will blog twice.
It is already 9:20. I think I need to trim down my morning routine, as I woke up at 8:00, and only just finished it. I wake up, go downstairs, and make myself some tea with a big bowl of cereal (today's cereal, for your notebooks, was Frosted Shreddies). In search of something to watch while I enjoy my delicious breakfast treat, I flick through Sky, and end up getting sucked into some cartoon on Boomerang or Nicktoons. After half an hour has passed, I realise I should be moving on, and spring upstairs for my morning bath.
Some people enjoy showers. Some like the stimulating variety of just not knowing how they will wash in the mornings. Some, naming no names, believe that washing removes part of the soul, so refuse to do it on religious grounds.
For me, however, only the bath will do. Sinking into the warm water, and letting the world go on without me as I lose myself in a good book. The two advantages the bath has over the shower are:
1) Lying down beats standing up.
2) You can't read a book in the shower.
I feel these two more than make up for the whole stewing-in-your-own-filth thing. Unfortunately, having no clocks in our bathroom, I usually lose track of time, and emerge and hour later, wrinkled and pink (but damn clean!)
This morning I read Lonely Planet's guide to Nepal, in preparation for my trip in August of this year - 6 weeks of volunteering in the remote mountain kingdom. Any donations to fund the rest of the trip would be much appreciated. Minimum donation amount £100, please (for tax reasons).
See. Loneliness has driven me completely insane.
*uses his psychic powers to draw Julia back*
Friday, March 23, 2007
Battle in the Underhive
I have a confession to make. Some of you, who don't know me, and are merely attracted to this blog by the sparkling wit and insight, would be shocked to learn that I have nerdish tendencies.
To prevent against things like this becoming a surprise in the future, I have put a picture of some books which speak volumes (see! see how it sparkles!) about things I like. Amongst them are Warhammer and GURPS. If you know what GURPS stands for, you're too far gone already.
I did have a point to this, anyway. Today, Nick came over, and we continued our epic campaign (begun on Wednesday) of Necromunda! We played three games, and I took a couple of pictures in the last game to show you all:
The ruined structures of the Underhive under construction before our battle. Amazing what can be done with plastic and cardboard.
Unfortunately, this is not terrain. This is Nick, looking insanely happy. I would like to point out that, contrary to his suspicions at the time, the focus is not on his crotch.
The ruins are complete! We decided it was the structure suspended over my gang's Chem pit, which his sneaky Ash Nomads were ambushing to loot.
Some of the models in position, ready to spring the ambush. Being lazy and poor, we have no actual Necromunda models, so have to make do with an assorted mishmash of others, and our imagination.
It was a tough battle, where only my heavy with his Heavy Bolter did any real damage, taking his leader and a nomad out of action in a deadly hail of exploding lead. The rest of my gang were pinned down by the judicious application of frag grenades on his part. Both sides emerged more or less intact, however, and my gang's territory was defended.
To prevent against things like this becoming a surprise in the future, I have put a picture of some books which speak volumes (see! see how it sparkles!) about things I like. Amongst them are Warhammer and GURPS. If you know what GURPS stands for, you're too far gone already.
I did have a point to this, anyway. Today, Nick came over, and we continued our epic campaign (begun on Wednesday) of Necromunda! We played three games, and I took a couple of pictures in the last game to show you all:
The ruined structures of the Underhive under construction before our battle. Amazing what can be done with plastic and cardboard.
Unfortunately, this is not terrain. This is Nick, looking insanely happy. I would like to point out that, contrary to his suspicions at the time, the focus is not on his crotch.
The ruins are complete! We decided it was the structure suspended over my gang's Chem pit, which his sneaky Ash Nomads were ambushing to loot.
Some of the models in position, ready to spring the ambush. Being lazy and poor, we have no actual Necromunda models, so have to make do with an assorted mishmash of others, and our imagination.
It was a tough battle, where only my heavy with his Heavy Bolter did any real damage, taking his leader and a nomad out of action in a deadly hail of exploding lead. The rest of my gang were pinned down by the judicious application of frag grenades on his part. Both sides emerged more or less intact, however, and my gang's territory was defended.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Lincoln's tear in Spacetime
Another blog, another day - but now things are different! I can see you are all on the edge of your seats to hear about what's changed in my life, so I'll present it in convenient bullet point form, so you don't have to pay attention for too long in this busy age of quick information:
- I have returned from Oxford, and am now back at home.
- I've visited Lincoln for the first time.
- I have tidied my desk area, so it feels very snug and comfortable (I was going to do a photo tour of my room, but my sister's stolen my camera for the day).
- My hair is slightly longer.
I think that's about it. Well, not really -- in this ever changing maelstrom of flux and change that we call our lives, we rarely realise the true extent of the change that is always happening around us. We limit our perceptions to a tiny angle of a tiny proportion of the whole vast universe, and somehow manage to convince ourselves that what we see is reality.
Today, I shall blog about the Oxbridge conference I went to Friday. I'd volunteered for it at the beginning of the term, in response to increasingly desperate emails from the university's admin department, and then completely forgot that I had until the beginning of 8th week. Hastily rearranging my plans so that my Dad could pick me up on the Thursday evening, everything turned out alright in the end. My Dad arrived an hour early, and sat in my room watching me pack with a smug look on his face.
I got the train from Peterborough to Lincoln in the morning, arriving there at 9. I had written down the mobile of the woman from Oxford who had contacted me, in case of emergencies. Unfortunately, when I tried to text her to say I was on my way, I found out that I had written it down one number short, leaving without any means of contact of anyone who was actually there.
I was prepared, however! I had printed off a map, which helpfully labelled where both the train station and the conference centre was. Guesstimating the distance with my fingers, and thinking that it would be a quick 5 minute stroll, I set off merrily.
10 minutes later, I stopped to get my bearings, checked on the map, and discovered I was not even a third of the way there. I hoped that, for some bizarre reason, the map makers had made different parts of their map to different scales, and in fact the rest of the way would only take 5 minutes.
After another 10 minutes, realising with a small sense of triumph that I had reached the halfway point, I took off my jacket, tightened my backpack, and set off with grim resolve. Half an hour after leaving the station, I arrived at two huge gas storage tanks, with a charming little conference centre/school hidden underneath.
I went in, had a cup of tea, talked to fellow undergraduates who had volunteered to encourage the Bright Young Minds of Tomorrow to apply to Oxbridge. I was down to give several talks, mostly on "Being a Student at Oxford and Cambridge", with a few other undergraduates. We went in having no idea what to talk about, but went with the Q&A style of talk, which went very well.
I was also giving a talk on "Doing Maths and Philosophy at Oxford" -- by myself. Fortunately, only three students and a teacher turned up. After talking briefly about the course and such things, I started teaching them some analysis and algebra, so they could get a flavour of the type of the maths they'd be doing. I got quite caught up, and was extremely disappointed when I was time for lunch.
Another uneventful train journey back, and then home. I'm sure Lincoln is a lovely place, but I will forever associate it with that never ending road. Bloody physics.
- I have returned from Oxford, and am now back at home.
- I've visited Lincoln for the first time.
- I have tidied my desk area, so it feels very snug and comfortable (I was going to do a photo tour of my room, but my sister's stolen my camera for the day).
- My hair is slightly longer.
I think that's about it. Well, not really -- in this ever changing maelstrom of flux and change that we call our lives, we rarely realise the true extent of the change that is always happening around us. We limit our perceptions to a tiny angle of a tiny proportion of the whole vast universe, and somehow manage to convince ourselves that what we see is reality.
Today, I shall blog about the Oxbridge conference I went to Friday. I'd volunteered for it at the beginning of the term, in response to increasingly desperate emails from the university's admin department, and then completely forgot that I had until the beginning of 8th week. Hastily rearranging my plans so that my Dad could pick me up on the Thursday evening, everything turned out alright in the end. My Dad arrived an hour early, and sat in my room watching me pack with a smug look on his face.
I got the train from Peterborough to Lincoln in the morning, arriving there at 9. I had written down the mobile of the woman from Oxford who had contacted me, in case of emergencies. Unfortunately, when I tried to text her to say I was on my way, I found out that I had written it down one number short, leaving without any means of contact of anyone who was actually there.
I was prepared, however! I had printed off a map, which helpfully labelled where both the train station and the conference centre was. Guesstimating the distance with my fingers, and thinking that it would be a quick 5 minute stroll, I set off merrily.
10 minutes later, I stopped to get my bearings, checked on the map, and discovered I was not even a third of the way there. I hoped that, for some bizarre reason, the map makers had made different parts of their map to different scales, and in fact the rest of the way would only take 5 minutes.
After another 10 minutes, realising with a small sense of triumph that I had reached the halfway point, I took off my jacket, tightened my backpack, and set off with grim resolve. Half an hour after leaving the station, I arrived at two huge gas storage tanks, with a charming little conference centre/school hidden underneath.
I went in, had a cup of tea, talked to fellow undergraduates who had volunteered to encourage the Bright Young Minds of Tomorrow to apply to Oxbridge. I was down to give several talks, mostly on "Being a Student at Oxford and Cambridge", with a few other undergraduates. We went in having no idea what to talk about, but went with the Q&A style of talk, which went very well.
I was also giving a talk on "Doing Maths and Philosophy at Oxford" -- by myself. Fortunately, only three students and a teacher turned up. After talking briefly about the course and such things, I started teaching them some analysis and algebra, so they could get a flavour of the type of the maths they'd be doing. I got quite caught up, and was extremely disappointed when I was time for lunch.
Another uneventful train journey back, and then home. I'm sure Lincoln is a lovely place, but I will forever associate it with that never ending road. Bloody physics.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
The Library Critic
Some of you may know this already...others may not, however, so I'll say it anyway.
I love libraries. I love books as well, but there's more to the love of the libraries than just a love of books. It's the noise (not true silence, but the most peaceful silence there can be). It's the smell, the look, the feel, of all those books, the tables, the chairs, the sheer concentrated knowledge...
I have realised that while all books are reviewed comprehensively and critically, we are sadly lacking in a similar appraisal for libraries. To remedy this, I will begin The Library Critic project: a critical account of the various libraries of the University of Oxford, with photos, anecdotes, and so on. I'm sure I will develop some sort of rating system on various aspects, but these things come with time.
Most of the libraries are (currently) out of bounds for me -- other colleges, departments, etc., but I will not let barriers or regulations slow me in my quest for library perfection!
Coming up next: Merton college's OWL Library!
I love libraries. I love books as well, but there's more to the love of the libraries than just a love of books. It's the noise (not true silence, but the most peaceful silence there can be). It's the smell, the look, the feel, of all those books, the tables, the chairs, the sheer concentrated knowledge...
I have realised that while all books are reviewed comprehensively and critically, we are sadly lacking in a similar appraisal for libraries. To remedy this, I will begin The Library Critic project: a critical account of the various libraries of the University of Oxford, with photos, anecdotes, and so on. I'm sure I will develop some sort of rating system on various aspects, but these things come with time.
Most of the libraries are (currently) out of bounds for me -- other colleges, departments, etc., but I will not let barriers or regulations slow me in my quest for library perfection!
Coming up next: Merton college's OWL Library!
Saturday, March 03, 2007
A Very Drunk S
Last night, we celebrated S's party in her own unique style; with, firstly, an elegant adult meal at Ask, and then a surprise children's party.
We all went out to Ask at about 7 (after Andrea had spent an hour and a half curling S's flowing locks, for a Rapunzel effect). I had stopped off on the way to vote for Krishna and Mark at the Oxford Union (both have been successful), so arrived late to the restaurant.
I had a moment's panic, looking round and noticing the conspicuous lack of a group of 20 students - hard to miss, for a start. Fortunately, I noticed stairs leading down to the basement, where I found them all, and was greeted by cheers and jam. Well, they looked like they recognised me, which is something.
The meal was enjoyable, delicious, and surprisingly quick. S successfully mingled by dashing from one of the table to the other, but everyone else was content to stay in their places.
The happy lawyers.
After the meal, we dashed back to Merton through the pouring rain, and some of us waited with S while things completely unrelated to surprise birthday parties went on upstairs. Some of us, unfortunately, had had too much sugar at the meal and just couldn't stay still while we waited:
Eventually we went upstairs, and the party begun. We all watched S open her many presents (ranging from a giant pen to a designer beaver...don't ask. Please, just don't). After that, the party went wild. There was pass the parcel, lots of alcohol, a cake, and (pretty soon) a very drunk S.
Oh, and some spinning:
We all went out to Ask at about 7 (after Andrea had spent an hour and a half curling S's flowing locks, for a Rapunzel effect). I had stopped off on the way to vote for Krishna and Mark at the Oxford Union (both have been successful), so arrived late to the restaurant.
I had a moment's panic, looking round and noticing the conspicuous lack of a group of 20 students - hard to miss, for a start. Fortunately, I noticed stairs leading down to the basement, where I found them all, and was greeted by cheers and jam. Well, they looked like they recognised me, which is something.
The meal was enjoyable, delicious, and surprisingly quick. S successfully mingled by dashing from one of the table to the other, but everyone else was content to stay in their places.
The happy lawyers.
After the meal, we dashed back to Merton through the pouring rain, and some of us waited with S while things completely unrelated to surprise birthday parties went on upstairs. Some of us, unfortunately, had had too much sugar at the meal and just couldn't stay still while we waited:
Eventually we went upstairs, and the party begun. We all watched S open her many presents (ranging from a giant pen to a designer beaver...don't ask. Please, just don't). After that, the party went wild. There was pass the parcel, lots of alcohol, a cake, and (pretty soon) a very drunk S.
Oh, and some spinning:
Friday, March 02, 2007
When You Notice the Stripes
Today's lyrics are from "When you notice the stripes", by The Shins:
Dawn breaks like a bull through the hall...
Enough said, really.
Bertrand Russell was a very wise man. I find it hard to disagree with anything he says, and he says it all so poetically...a great mathematician and a great philosopher. In 1951 he wrote a book entitled "New Hopes for a Changing World", which should be read by everybody with any influence or power over the future of the world (that is, everyone).
A small sample, from the chapter entitled "The Happy Man", on the fear of death:
"...in an old man who has known human joys and sorrows, and has achieved whatever work it was in him to do, the fear of death is somewhat abject and ignoble. The best way to overcome it -- so at least it seems to me -- is to make your interests gradually wider and more impersonal, until bit by bit the walls of the ego recede, and your life becomes increasingly merged in the universal life. An individual human existence should be like a river -- small at first, narrowly contained within its banks, and rushing passionately past boulders and over waterfalls. Gradually the river grows wider, the banks recede, the waters flow more quietly, and in the end, without any visible break, they become merged in the sea, and painlessly lose their individual being. The man who, in old age, can see his life in this way, will not suffer from the fear of death, since the things he cares for will continue. And if, with the decay of vitality, weariness increases, the thought of rest will be not unwelcome. The wise man should wish to die while still at work, knowing that others will carry on what he can no longer do, and content in the thought that what was possible has been done."
I'd like that on my wall.
On a more down to earth note, I had the sinking realisation earlier that I have four problem sheets due in Wednesday, and philosophy reading and an essay due in for Tuesday. I have done nothing yet. I will spend the rest of the day planning how I will do the work, and reading bits in my maths book entirely irrelevant to the actual problem sheets.
Tonight, however, is a night for celebration: our beloved S will be 19 years old. Apparently, also on this day, Daniel Craig is turning 39, Jon Bon Jovi is 45, and Gorbachev is 76.
S was born on Daniel Craig's 20th birthday. Weird.
I will also have to buy S's present in town today. Let's just say I have some big ideas, ho ho ho.
Dawn breaks like a bull through the hall...
Enough said, really.
Bertrand Russell was a very wise man. I find it hard to disagree with anything he says, and he says it all so poetically...a great mathematician and a great philosopher. In 1951 he wrote a book entitled "New Hopes for a Changing World", which should be read by everybody with any influence or power over the future of the world (that is, everyone).
A small sample, from the chapter entitled "The Happy Man", on the fear of death:
"...in an old man who has known human joys and sorrows, and has achieved whatever work it was in him to do, the fear of death is somewhat abject and ignoble. The best way to overcome it -- so at least it seems to me -- is to make your interests gradually wider and more impersonal, until bit by bit the walls of the ego recede, and your life becomes increasingly merged in the universal life. An individual human existence should be like a river -- small at first, narrowly contained within its banks, and rushing passionately past boulders and over waterfalls. Gradually the river grows wider, the banks recede, the waters flow more quietly, and in the end, without any visible break, they become merged in the sea, and painlessly lose their individual being. The man who, in old age, can see his life in this way, will not suffer from the fear of death, since the things he cares for will continue. And if, with the decay of vitality, weariness increases, the thought of rest will be not unwelcome. The wise man should wish to die while still at work, knowing that others will carry on what he can no longer do, and content in the thought that what was possible has been done."
I'd like that on my wall.
On a more down to earth note, I had the sinking realisation earlier that I have four problem sheets due in Wednesday, and philosophy reading and an essay due in for Tuesday. I have done nothing yet. I will spend the rest of the day planning how I will do the work, and reading bits in my maths book entirely irrelevant to the actual problem sheets.
Tonight, however, is a night for celebration: our beloved S will be 19 years old. Apparently, also on this day, Daniel Craig is turning 39, Jon Bon Jovi is 45, and Gorbachev is 76.
S was born on Daniel Craig's 20th birthday. Weird.
I will also have to buy S's present in town today. Let's just say I have some big ideas, ho ho ho.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Isomorphism is a strange word
Ooh I need your love babe, guess you know it's true....hope you need my love babe, just like I need you.
Typing lyrics from the song that's playing is a good blog icebreaker. I do find blogging very difficult - like one of those awkward conversations at parties, without even facial cues from my conversational partner so I can try to adapt what I'm saying. What should I talk about? A lot happens in life, all the time. Some of it I don't want to think about, some I don't want to publish to the internet, some I don't want to publish to anyone. Most would just be boring.
Do you know what's not boring, however? Maths!
From the depths of my heart, I urge all of you to go to http://mathworld.wolfram.com, click on a few random articles, till you find one that looks interesting. Click on terms you don't understand to find entries defining them, and so on, until you reach the bare bones of the subject.
I love reading about mathematics (and reading in general). Strangely, at university, some of the elder maths students seem shocked like this. I, in turn, was shocked at their shock. I have no doubt that they love mathematics, but we all show our love for something in different ways. I seem to do it through reading, and research. When I love something, I want to understand it. To know it.
Every integer is expressible as the sum of four squares:
81 = 9^2 + 0^2 + 0^2 + 0^2
34 = 4^2 + 4^2 + 1^2 + 1^2
Etc.
Is every integer expressible as the sum of eight cubes? Oddly enough, every integer except 23 and 239 are. That's -every- integer. Which is a lot. Except those two.
Every integer is expressible as the sum of nine cubes, however.
Also, every integer except for 15, 22, 23, 50, 114, 167, 175, 186, 212, 231, 238, 239, 303, 364, 420, 428, and 454 can be expressed as the sum of seven cubes.
Numbers are a strange and fascinating thing. Some savants say every number has its own personality, or colour.
I love Julia. I've done some terrible things, but I know that I love her. I don't know why she loves me back, but I'm very grateful. It'll be different from now on. I'll remember. I will love her every day, in my own charmingly inept way.
I'll blog for her.
Typing lyrics from the song that's playing is a good blog icebreaker. I do find blogging very difficult - like one of those awkward conversations at parties, without even facial cues from my conversational partner so I can try to adapt what I'm saying. What should I talk about? A lot happens in life, all the time. Some of it I don't want to think about, some I don't want to publish to the internet, some I don't want to publish to anyone. Most would just be boring.
Do you know what's not boring, however? Maths!
From the depths of my heart, I urge all of you to go to http://mathworld.wolfram.com, click on a few random articles, till you find one that looks interesting. Click on terms you don't understand to find entries defining them, and so on, until you reach the bare bones of the subject.
I love reading about mathematics (and reading in general). Strangely, at university, some of the elder maths students seem shocked like this. I, in turn, was shocked at their shock. I have no doubt that they love mathematics, but we all show our love for something in different ways. I seem to do it through reading, and research. When I love something, I want to understand it. To know it.
Every integer is expressible as the sum of four squares:
81 = 9^2 + 0^2 + 0^2 + 0^2
34 = 4^2 + 4^2 + 1^2 + 1^2
Etc.
Is every integer expressible as the sum of eight cubes? Oddly enough, every integer except 23 and 239 are. That's -every- integer. Which is a lot. Except those two.
Every integer is expressible as the sum of nine cubes, however.
Also, every integer except for 15, 22, 23, 50, 114, 167, 175, 186, 212, 231, 238, 239, 303, 364, 420, 428, and 454 can be expressed as the sum of seven cubes.
Numbers are a strange and fascinating thing. Some savants say every number has its own personality, or colour.
I love Julia. I've done some terrible things, but I know that I love her. I don't know why she loves me back, but I'm very grateful. It'll be different from now on. I'll remember. I will love her every day, in my own charmingly inept way.
I'll blog for her.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Closed Windows
Right everyone - here we go.
This is (possibly) my last post on Windows on this laptop - soon (as soon as my backup DVD has finished burning), I will install Kubuntu (a distro of Linux).
I've been deliberating for a few days, and thought I might as well take the plunge. I used Ubuntu on my old laptop, which was past its prime; hopefully it will work well on this shiny new one as well. Here is my logical reasoning:
Reasons for Windows:
Compatibility
Games
Umm...
Reasons for Linux:
Fewer crashes
Fewer viruses
Geek points
Much easier for doing techy stuff (e.g. ruby, rails, mysql, svn)
Looks better
Smugness when I use console commands in front of others
More personality - it has soul!
I've found a recovery disc, so if I change my mind, I should be able to get Windows back. Hopefully.
Wish me luck!
This is (possibly) my last post on Windows on this laptop - soon (as soon as my backup DVD has finished burning), I will install Kubuntu (a distro of Linux).
I've been deliberating for a few days, and thought I might as well take the plunge. I used Ubuntu on my old laptop, which was past its prime; hopefully it will work well on this shiny new one as well. Here is my logical reasoning:
Reasons for Windows:
Compatibility
Games
Umm...
Reasons for Linux:
Fewer crashes
Fewer viruses
Geek points
Much easier for doing techy stuff (e.g. ruby, rails, mysql, svn)
Looks better
Smugness when I use console commands in front of others
More personality - it has soul!
I've found a recovery disc, so if I change my mind, I should be able to get Windows back. Hopefully.
Wish me luck!
Friday, July 28, 2006
Failed
Been a while since my last blog; sorry.
Failed my driving test this morning; it's not too bad though. I had an hour's driving before my test (which was , ironically, worse than my driving during my test), and then got to the centre for 11:41. My examiner came out (called 'Jaz') and off we went.
Two questions at the beginning: spot on. Perfect. I mean, you couldn't imagine two questions being answered more correctly than that.
Reverse around a corner: One of the two manouevres - perfect! Didn't anything (or anyone), didn't have to pull forward, stopped to let two cars go by. My worst manouevre was the best bit of my test. C'est la vie.
Bay parking: Not too bad. Got a minor because I was a bit over the line, but not bad at all.
My final score was 6 minors (a great score; 15 or less is a pass) and 2 serious (not as great; any serious means a fail). One serious was for overtaking a couple of times on the dual carriageway when I should have just slowed down, as I was about to turn off. The other was because some other retard was signalling to head off the roundabout (so I moved on) but changed his mind, so nearly hit me. I should have waited a second more perhaps, but still a bit unlucky...
It is, however, looking hopeful! I shall book another test today in a couple of weeks time, when I shall pass. All shall go well, I will pass, win a Mini Cooper in some competition, and go off on a road trip of Britain.
Unfortunately, in Devon, I will be kidnapped in a daring raid by the secret terrorist organisation La Fiendo, who seek to persuade the world's governments to abolish happiness and morality.
They will then keep my hostage in a very wet and smelly cave in the Peak District (with a complete disregard for the 'No Hostages' rule of the National Parks). I will lead the other hostages free in an attack, using guns we carved from the rock, and then turn over the leader of La Fiendo to the authorities. The leader turns out to be Tony Blair's cousin, so the whole thing gets very technical and messy after that - long story short, I end up as Minister of Higher Education, but with only one leg.
I also stayed over at Daniel's Wednesday night, with Daniel, Alex and Julia. We watched Seven and Family Guy the Movie, and generally mooched about and drank tea.
Failed my driving test this morning; it's not too bad though. I had an hour's driving before my test (which was , ironically, worse than my driving during my test), and then got to the centre for 11:41. My examiner came out (called 'Jaz') and off we went.
Two questions at the beginning: spot on. Perfect. I mean, you couldn't imagine two questions being answered more correctly than that.
Reverse around a corner: One of the two manouevres - perfect! Didn't anything (or anyone), didn't have to pull forward, stopped to let two cars go by. My worst manouevre was the best bit of my test. C'est la vie.
Bay parking: Not too bad. Got a minor because I was a bit over the line, but not bad at all.
My final score was 6 minors (a great score; 15 or less is a pass) and 2 serious (not as great; any serious means a fail). One serious was for overtaking a couple of times on the dual carriageway when I should have just slowed down, as I was about to turn off. The other was because some other retard was signalling to head off the roundabout (so I moved on) but changed his mind, so nearly hit me. I should have waited a second more perhaps, but still a bit unlucky...
It is, however, looking hopeful! I shall book another test today in a couple of weeks time, when I shall pass. All shall go well, I will pass, win a Mini Cooper in some competition, and go off on a road trip of Britain.
Unfortunately, in Devon, I will be kidnapped in a daring raid by the secret terrorist organisation La Fiendo, who seek to persuade the world's governments to abolish happiness and morality.
They will then keep my hostage in a very wet and smelly cave in the Peak District (with a complete disregard for the 'No Hostages' rule of the National Parks). I will lead the other hostages free in an attack, using guns we carved from the rock, and then turn over the leader of La Fiendo to the authorities. The leader turns out to be Tony Blair's cousin, so the whole thing gets very technical and messy after that - long story short, I end up as Minister of Higher Education, but with only one leg.
I also stayed over at Daniel's Wednesday night, with Daniel, Alex and Julia. We watched Seven and Family Guy the Movie, and generally mooched about and drank tea.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Centreparcs
A rather long gap between blogs - but I do have an excuse! I was on holiday - went to Centreparcs Monday to Friday with my sisters, mum and stepdad. Rather than boring you with holiday snapshots, I will paint an exciting picture using that most thrilling of paints: words!
Monday-
I was woken up by Mum at around 8:30 (having stayed up late to finish watching season 2 of Scrubs) and, after packing, bathing, and generally panicking, the five of us piled all our stuff into the car and set off on our holiday.
After a 2 hour drive (and some illicit McDonald's for me and my sisters), we arrived at Centreparcs - Elveden Forest. If you are not familiar with the Centreparcs brand, it is a 400-acre area of woodland and lakes, with many little chalets set amongst the trees, and a central 'Village' with shops, tennis courts, restaurants, a swimming pool, etc. It's a really good idea, and though I've been a few times before with my family, this Centreparcs seems the best so far (I think there are four altogether - all in England).
We had lunch at some restaurant (I had Scampi and Chips - very nice), and then we arrived at our little chalet place - the Executive type, including three bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a flatscreen TV in each of our bedrooms! Simply amazing, eh? It also has an outdoor Sauna, which I think is just being a bit too indulgent. As long as I'm not paying.
We went swimming (there's a good slide, though the rapids aren't as fast as I had hoped), and then had a chinese meal at the chalet. Talked about politics, and then played Trivial Pursuit; Lucy won after an epic game. Helpful note: Never play Trivial Pursuit with more than three players or teams. It just takes so long.
Tuesday-
Played badminton and tennis on Tuesday. I played a game of badminton against Mark (my stepdad), and though I lost 15-5, I played pretty well. The best I have ever played in my life, in fact. Must be that refreshing forest breeze. Also played tennis in the afternoon, which didn't go as well. It was a baking hot court, and I hadn't played tennis for about 4 years, since PE in school, so was completely atrocious. Badminton seems more of a gentleman's game, anyway. We had a barbecue for supper, and despite a flare-up between my Mum and my sister, all was resolved, and we played Trivial Pursuit again, in two teams this time. Me and Mark won.
Wednesday-
Played badminton again. Just a couple of doubles games - not as good as I was yesterday, but it was a concrete floor, so at least I have an excuse. Also had a succession of visitors to our chalet in the afternoon - first some maids asking if I wanted the chalet cleaned (I turned them away...it just seems so intrusive); then a guy responding to a call about mice droppings in the cupboard. They had even chewed on our tomatoes! He hoovered up the droppings and lay down a couple of humane traps. He was a really friendly guy, actually - we chatted for a while about deer.
In the evening, Mum, Lucy and Harriet went off for some girly spa thing, while me and Mark went to play a MAN'S sport - table tennis. Unbelievably, I actually won (overall).
Thursday -
Jeez...it's scary how quickly memory can fade. Played badminton with Mum and Mark, and then played table tennis with Mum - which I also won! My hands are on fire.
Also read some more...then we had supper, and played Ex Libris in the evening. It's a literary game; the title, author, and premise of a book is read out (from supplied cards), and then everyone has to write down a possible first (or last) line to that book. When everyone has done one, another person reads all them out, as well as the real one. The other players have to try and guess which is the real one. You get a point if you get the real one, but also if someone else guesses your one as the real one. My sister usually comes up with a couple of funny ones:
"Well that about wraps everything up!" said Colonel Wedge. [Last line]
The engine roared one last lustful time. [Last line]
They seemed very funny at the time, anyway.
Friday-
We quickly packed and after leaving our stuff (unprotected, vulnerable...) in the car park, went down to the 'Village' for a final holiday burst. Bought Julia some fudge, and then we went on a pedalo in the lake. Some weird guy in a rowing boat followed us around the whole way though (or possibly he thought we were following him around). We had lunch, and then all drove back.
Julia came round that evening to see me; I really missed her. However, we are together again.
On Saturday evening, went to Julia's last ever choir concert (see her blog for details), and on Sunday, didn't do much at all. Oh, had a driving lesson though - I was pretty good, as well. Maybe this time I won't have to put my test back again!
Um...gosh, it's Tuesday already. Going for coffee later I think. I am also going to start selling some stuff on eBay - everyone go and buy all my stuff.
My user name is elusive_lemma
Fun Facts learned from Trivial Pursuit:
Austin Powers' middle name is Danger.
By 1989, giant trees were sprouting at Chernobyl as a result of what had happened there three years earlier (big nuclear plant explosion).
Japan has the world's highest daily circulation of newspapers.
Sweden has the world's lowest murder rate, but also one of the highest suicide rates.
Monday-
I was woken up by Mum at around 8:30 (having stayed up late to finish watching season 2 of Scrubs) and, after packing, bathing, and generally panicking, the five of us piled all our stuff into the car and set off on our holiday.
After a 2 hour drive (and some illicit McDonald's for me and my sisters), we arrived at Centreparcs - Elveden Forest. If you are not familiar with the Centreparcs brand, it is a 400-acre area of woodland and lakes, with many little chalets set amongst the trees, and a central 'Village' with shops, tennis courts, restaurants, a swimming pool, etc. It's a really good idea, and though I've been a few times before with my family, this Centreparcs seems the best so far (I think there are four altogether - all in England).
We had lunch at some restaurant (I had Scampi and Chips - very nice), and then we arrived at our little chalet place - the Executive type, including three bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a flatscreen TV in each of our bedrooms! Simply amazing, eh? It also has an outdoor Sauna, which I think is just being a bit too indulgent. As long as I'm not paying.
We went swimming (there's a good slide, though the rapids aren't as fast as I had hoped), and then had a chinese meal at the chalet. Talked about politics, and then played Trivial Pursuit; Lucy won after an epic game. Helpful note: Never play Trivial Pursuit with more than three players or teams. It just takes so long.
Tuesday-
Played badminton and tennis on Tuesday. I played a game of badminton against Mark (my stepdad), and though I lost 15-5, I played pretty well. The best I have ever played in my life, in fact. Must be that refreshing forest breeze. Also played tennis in the afternoon, which didn't go as well. It was a baking hot court, and I hadn't played tennis for about 4 years, since PE in school, so was completely atrocious. Badminton seems more of a gentleman's game, anyway. We had a barbecue for supper, and despite a flare-up between my Mum and my sister, all was resolved, and we played Trivial Pursuit again, in two teams this time. Me and Mark won.
Wednesday-
Played badminton again. Just a couple of doubles games - not as good as I was yesterday, but it was a concrete floor, so at least I have an excuse. Also had a succession of visitors to our chalet in the afternoon - first some maids asking if I wanted the chalet cleaned (I turned them away...it just seems so intrusive); then a guy responding to a call about mice droppings in the cupboard. They had even chewed on our tomatoes! He hoovered up the droppings and lay down a couple of humane traps. He was a really friendly guy, actually - we chatted for a while about deer.
In the evening, Mum, Lucy and Harriet went off for some girly spa thing, while me and Mark went to play a MAN'S sport - table tennis. Unbelievably, I actually won (overall).
Thursday -
Jeez...it's scary how quickly memory can fade. Played badminton with Mum and Mark, and then played table tennis with Mum - which I also won! My hands are on fire.
Also read some more...then we had supper, and played Ex Libris in the evening. It's a literary game; the title, author, and premise of a book is read out (from supplied cards), and then everyone has to write down a possible first (or last) line to that book. When everyone has done one, another person reads all them out, as well as the real one. The other players have to try and guess which is the real one. You get a point if you get the real one, but also if someone else guesses your one as the real one. My sister usually comes up with a couple of funny ones:
"Well that about wraps everything up!" said Colonel Wedge. [Last line]
The engine roared one last lustful time. [Last line]
They seemed very funny at the time, anyway.
Friday-
We quickly packed and after leaving our stuff (unprotected, vulnerable...) in the car park, went down to the 'Village' for a final holiday burst. Bought Julia some fudge, and then we went on a pedalo in the lake. Some weird guy in a rowing boat followed us around the whole way though (or possibly he thought we were following him around). We had lunch, and then all drove back.
Julia came round that evening to see me; I really missed her. However, we are together again.
On Saturday evening, went to Julia's last ever choir concert (see her blog for details), and on Sunday, didn't do much at all. Oh, had a driving lesson though - I was pretty good, as well. Maybe this time I won't have to put my test back again!
Um...gosh, it's Tuesday already. Going for coffee later I think. I am also going to start selling some stuff on eBay - everyone go and buy all my stuff.
My user name is elusive_lemma
Fun Facts learned from Trivial Pursuit:
Austin Powers' middle name is Danger.
By 1989, giant trees were sprouting at Chernobyl as a result of what had happened there three years earlier (big nuclear plant explosion).
Japan has the world's highest daily circulation of newspapers.
Sweden has the world's lowest murder rate, but also one of the highest suicide rates.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
How!
wikiHow - The How-To Manual That Anyone Can Write or Edit
Interesting website. Anyone else remember the show 'How'? I don't really.
Stayed at Dad's last night - Freddie (my little brother) was being a little terror; hot and belligerent. Had pasta and salad (and cheese)...faffed around with his wireless network.
OK: My Dad and stepmum are completely computer illiterate; they got a guy to come in and set up the network router (who didn't do the wireless bit, as they didn't think they needed it). I was trying to find out the WEP key to use my laptop on the wireless. Long story (relatively) short, I discovered that this guy had changed the password of the router from the default (which I needed to find the key) - very sensible, prevents unauthorised access. He had not, however, told Dad and Dawn what the new one was! Neither of them knew what I was talking about, and said they wouldn't need it anyway...but still...
Interesting website. Anyone else remember the show 'How'? I don't really.
Stayed at Dad's last night - Freddie (my little brother) was being a little terror; hot and belligerent. Had pasta and salad (and cheese)...faffed around with his wireless network.
OK: My Dad and stepmum are completely computer illiterate; they got a guy to come in and set up the network router (who didn't do the wireless bit, as they didn't think they needed it). I was trying to find out the WEP key to use my laptop on the wireless. Long story (relatively) short, I discovered that this guy had changed the password of the router from the default (which I needed to find the key) - very sensible, prevents unauthorised access. He had not, however, told Dad and Dawn what the new one was! Neither of them knew what I was talking about, and said they wouldn't need it anyway...but still...
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Stomp!
Well, nobody commented. I'm going to assume somebody reads this blog and cares though, so I'm going to blog now anyway.
Last night, we went to see Stomp. It was amazing. I went years ago with my Dad, but this was even better than I remember. I urge everyone to go and see it.
We caught the train down to London at 15:44 (Julia surprising me with a bag of Liquorice Allsorts) and got to Kings Cross at around 5 - on the way I read an excellent book 'Who are the Illuminati?'; written by a lady who seeks to examine the true historical facts behind the Illuminati and all the myths that have sprung up around them.
We got to London, caught the (insanely hot) tube down to Charing Cross, and looked in the big Waterstones before wandering off to find somewhere to eat. We ended up choosing the Spaghetti House ('50 years of Italian excellence!') which apparently had only 2 waiting staff for about 70 patrons. The food and service were both great though. We also sat next to a very amusing pair of middle aged ladies, gossiping about all and sundry. Especially sundry.
We walked down to the theatre, and took our seats - on time, thankyouverymuch! There was this couple who came in just after it had started, sat right in front of us, then talked for a couple of minutes. I was tempted to tear his head off, but instead I just knifed him a little.
Then started the show - it's sort of freeform percussion using loads of different everyday objects (brooms, sinks, plastic bags, sticks, matchboxes, bins, street signs, etc) and the sheer energy and beat blows you away. Amazing. And a wonderful 18th birthday present.
Anyways, caught the train back (had an argument with my mirror self; cheeky beggar) and went to sleep, after reading Julia a palindromic poem from a book I have. I may put it up here later.
Woke up around half 10 this morning, and haven't really done much. Apart from nothing. A lot of nothing.
Last night, we went to see Stomp. It was amazing. I went years ago with my Dad, but this was even better than I remember. I urge everyone to go and see it.
We caught the train down to London at 15:44 (Julia surprising me with a bag of Liquorice Allsorts) and got to Kings Cross at around 5 - on the way I read an excellent book 'Who are the Illuminati?'; written by a lady who seeks to examine the true historical facts behind the Illuminati and all the myths that have sprung up around them.
We got to London, caught the (insanely hot) tube down to Charing Cross, and looked in the big Waterstones before wandering off to find somewhere to eat. We ended up choosing the Spaghetti House ('50 years of Italian excellence!') which apparently had only 2 waiting staff for about 70 patrons. The food and service were both great though. We also sat next to a very amusing pair of middle aged ladies, gossiping about all and sundry. Especially sundry.
We walked down to the theatre, and took our seats - on time, thankyouverymuch! There was this couple who came in just after it had started, sat right in front of us, then talked for a couple of minutes. I was tempted to tear his head off, but instead I just knifed him a little.
Then started the show - it's sort of freeform percussion using loads of different everyday objects (brooms, sinks, plastic bags, sticks, matchboxes, bins, street signs, etc) and the sheer energy and beat blows you away. Amazing. And a wonderful 18th birthday present.
Anyways, caught the train back (had an argument with my mirror self; cheeky beggar) and went to sleep, after reading Julia a palindromic poem from a book I have. I may put it up here later.
Woke up around half 10 this morning, and haven't really done much. Apart from nothing. A lot of nothing.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
How's this for staying power?
Yet again I blog, as a demonstration of my extreme staying power. My skin actually now exretes glue through the pores, having ran out of sweat the past couple of days.
Had my first driving lesson for over a month this morning - it was good, apart from the bad bits. Just a bit of spit and polish, and I should be ready for my test on the 28th! Oh, and I need to learn how to drive. Might help.
I was going to type 'Definitely might help.' there, but I'm not sure if it's grammatically correct. Let me check. Spellings right.
In my search, I found a lovely new word - grammaticaster. It means a 'piddling gramamarian', where a grammarian is a person who has made a study of grammar, a teacher of or writer on grammar. Oh, and piddling means 'trifling, paltry'. And paltry means 'meagre, mean, of poor quality, trashy, worthless, not worth considering'.
Where was I? Ah yes. I'll leave whether the statement is grammatically correct to all you grammaticasters out there, and return to my day.
Having said that, not much else has happened yet. Watched Scrubs, cleaned the bathroom...I am waiting for Julia to arrive in half an hour to take me out somewhere for my birthday surprise!
I have no idea where she's taking me, but it involves the train...and we leave at about half 3 and get back at about half 11.
If anyone reads this this afternoon, post your ideas on what it might be, and I'll blog back tomorrow. Maybe you could get a pool going.
Had my first driving lesson for over a month this morning - it was good, apart from the bad bits. Just a bit of spit and polish, and I should be ready for my test on the 28th! Oh, and I need to learn how to drive. Might help.
I was going to type 'Definitely might help.' there, but I'm not sure if it's grammatically correct. Let me check. Spellings right.
In my search, I found a lovely new word - grammaticaster. It means a 'piddling gramamarian', where a grammarian is a person who has made a study of grammar, a teacher of or writer on grammar. Oh, and piddling means 'trifling, paltry'. And paltry means 'meagre, mean, of poor quality, trashy, worthless, not worth considering'.
Where was I? Ah yes. I'll leave whether the statement is grammatically correct to all you grammaticasters out there, and return to my day.
Having said that, not much else has happened yet. Watched Scrubs, cleaned the bathroom...I am waiting for Julia to arrive in half an hour to take me out somewhere for my birthday surprise!
I have no idea where she's taking me, but it involves the train...and we leave at about half 3 and get back at about half 11.
If anyone reads this this afternoon, post your ideas on what it might be, and I'll blog back tomorrow. Maybe you could get a pool going.
Monday, July 03, 2006
The International Conspiracy of the Trilateral Commission
Today has been hot. Very hot. Hot in a very strange way; I would stand up, walk around, and cool down instantly - then I sit down for one second and an unfeasible amount of swear pours out of every pore.
Lazed around for most of the day, doing not much at all with Julia - we watched a couple of episodes of Life of Grime. This is a show which follows around health professionals on their daily jobs - e.g. rat patrol officers, food healthy inspectors - and is surprisingly good. It also breeds a healthy sense of smug superiority.
Had work this evening, from 4:30 till 7:00 - cooler than outside, though not as cool as I'd like. While browsing Infotrac's journals, I came across mention of the Trilateral Commission - the secret masters of the world.
Their website.
350 members of the most influential people in North America, Asia and Europe...and they just get together "to foster closer cooperation among these core democratic industrialized areas of the world with shared leadership responsibilities in the wider international system". Yeah, right. And that yellow stuff in my fridge is butter.
They're controlling us, I tell you! I've requested (and just received, actually) a list of their current members, to try and expose how far their tendrils reach. Apparently it was the hot conspiracy favourite of the early 80s, but now it's not under much suspicion...and it all goes according to their plan.
Fear not, ladies and gentlefolk! I will research and expose the machinations of their evil, so that we may all live in a perfect society under my benevolent rulership. No fists of iron, I promise. Maybe a thumb.
Lazed around for most of the day, doing not much at all with Julia - we watched a couple of episodes of Life of Grime. This is a show which follows around health professionals on their daily jobs - e.g. rat patrol officers, food healthy inspectors - and is surprisingly good. It also breeds a healthy sense of smug superiority.
Had work this evening, from 4:30 till 7:00 - cooler than outside, though not as cool as I'd like. While browsing Infotrac's journals, I came across mention of the Trilateral Commission - the secret masters of the world.
Their website.
350 members of the most influential people in North America, Asia and Europe...and they just get together "to foster closer cooperation among these core democratic industrialized areas of the world with shared leadership responsibilities in the wider international system". Yeah, right. And that yellow stuff in my fridge is butter.
They're controlling us, I tell you! I've requested (and just received, actually) a list of their current members, to try and expose how far their tendrils reach. Apparently it was the hot conspiracy favourite of the early 80s, but now it's not under much suspicion...and it all goes according to their plan.
Fear not, ladies and gentlefolk! I will research and expose the machinations of their evil, so that we may all live in a perfect society under my benevolent rulership. No fists of iron, I promise. Maybe a thumb.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
A real post
Welcome to my new, renovated blog.
Say hello to Charlie, your new host (to the left; your right).
On Friday, it was the Leaver's Service followed by the Leaver's Dinner; a couple of events to mark the end of our time at King's. The Leaver's Service started at the ungodly hour of 8:30 (well, ungodly when you went to sleep at 1am). Everyone milled around for a while, admiring the architecture of the Cathedral, until we were called to our seats and the service began.
It consisted of mainly hymns, readings from the Bible, you know...usual church stuff. There was a goodbye speech from the Head of Sixth Form, Mr David Davies, as it was his last year as well. In true Welsh style, he murmered on for a while about factories and train stations (I think). In a surprise twist at the end of his speech, however, he whipped out an Uzi and leapt over the lectern towards our Headteacher, Mr Longman, screaming about blood payment. Fortunately he was subdued by the choir boys and the service continued.
We were called up to get our Multi-Faith prayer books - a selection of PC musings and prayers from various religions around the world. Unfortunately, Atheism was under-represented. Something like this should have been put in, I feel:
Oh Blind Forces of Nature,
You have done nothing for me;
For I have earned my own survival due to the success of my genes;
Please continue functioning as you have in the past;
Else scientists will be buggered;
But you're not sentient, so why I am talking to you!
I must be crazy.
It could then be accompanied by a picture of a train (to represent those who believe in the Trainity).
After the service, we went out for lunch - myself buying lunch for everyone (well, four people), and we went down to Sports Day to cheer on James, our Year 7 friend.
Sports Day brings up childhood fears and scars within me; I feel it was originally used as a form of punishment for the rougher boys, but when they started competing for real, they thought it should become permanent.
This is, of course, the same 'they' who put that annoying plastic ring around the caps of milk bottles, who are responsible for all the shortcomings of education and healthcare, and who should have done something when it all went wrong in Northern Ireland. I blame the women, don't know about you.
Yet I digress. We went to Sports Day, and cheered on James (Eye of the Tiger!) in his 100m dash. He came 6th, and staggered off somewhere to have a drink. Eager to escape from that Field of Hell - seriously, it must have been about 32 degrees out there - we went to Alex's garden.
Alex has a lovely flat in a very old building behind the Cathedral, and the building's flats share a very large and lovely garden. Alex is the only teenager in the building, so it has been a venue for many youthful debaucheries. They were wild. I mean steel-eroding wild.
On Friday, however, it was more peaceful; we lay around, talked, drank water, and I made an idiot of myself a few times. I can't really remember how, I just remember people laughing at me. Something about gum falling out of my mouth. I'm abused, seriously.
After Alex's, went back to Julia's for a bit, and then comes a curious blank in my memory. Something about snails. My memory scares me. My memory is the masked thug in the alley of my mind.
On to the leaver's dinner. I arrived at 6:30, hung around and talked to Chris and Spanner for a while, before Steg came in and told everyone was waiting outside for me! People must just assume I'd be late.
Everyone looked lovely, but Julia looked especially beautiful. I bought her a corsage - it's like a flower thing you're meant to buy your girl at a dance. I had only found this out the day before (after TWO balls and prom) so panicked and got her one. It was nice though.
It wasn't any ordinary corsage, either. It was the Corsage of Fate, for which I fought with the Florist of Interflora, over the Gate of Queens. I kicked some serious ass for those flowers.
We ate a reasonable dinner, argued about the death penalty, laughed at various things - you know, grownup dinner party stuff. Mr Longman made a short speech, awarding various prizes (Daniel was nominated for, but unjustly did not get, Scruff of the Year). The yearbooks were also distributed! They're quite good - pictures of everyone in the year, accompanied by a short piece written by themselves; I think Matt Benaton's was the funniest. After a frantic search for pens, people went around getting everyone they liked to sign them. Obviously, my hand was aching pretty soon.
I'm kidding.
It just dropped off from the strain.
Seriously.
Anyways; danced some more, walked to Alex's at 1am to read our yearbooks in bemused silence, then went home with Julia. Absolutely exhausted though (went to sleep at 3am, got up for work at 7am). Some other stuff happened this weeked...homeless centre, library, world cup disappointment, warhammer quest death, black and white, doctor who, graveyard, cooking...but that's another story.
I leave you with this story, showing that Terry Pratchett is scarily close to real life (re: the troll's concept of time).
http://www.physorg.com/news69338070.html
Say hello to Charlie, your new host (to the left; your right).
On Friday, it was the Leaver's Service followed by the Leaver's Dinner; a couple of events to mark the end of our time at King's. The Leaver's Service started at the ungodly hour of 8:30 (well, ungodly when you went to sleep at 1am). Everyone milled around for a while, admiring the architecture of the Cathedral, until we were called to our seats and the service began.
It consisted of mainly hymns, readings from the Bible, you know...usual church stuff. There was a goodbye speech from the Head of Sixth Form, Mr David Davies, as it was his last year as well. In true Welsh style, he murmered on for a while about factories and train stations (I think). In a surprise twist at the end of his speech, however, he whipped out an Uzi and leapt over the lectern towards our Headteacher, Mr Longman, screaming about blood payment. Fortunately he was subdued by the choir boys and the service continued.
We were called up to get our Multi-Faith prayer books - a selection of PC musings and prayers from various religions around the world. Unfortunately, Atheism was under-represented. Something like this should have been put in, I feel:
Oh Blind Forces of Nature,
You have done nothing for me;
For I have earned my own survival due to the success of my genes;
Please continue functioning as you have in the past;
Else scientists will be buggered;
But you're not sentient, so why I am talking to you!
I must be crazy.
It could then be accompanied by a picture of a train (to represent those who believe in the Trainity).
After the service, we went out for lunch - myself buying lunch for everyone (well, four people), and we went down to Sports Day to cheer on James, our Year 7 friend.
Sports Day brings up childhood fears and scars within me; I feel it was originally used as a form of punishment for the rougher boys, but when they started competing for real, they thought it should become permanent.
This is, of course, the same 'they' who put that annoying plastic ring around the caps of milk bottles, who are responsible for all the shortcomings of education and healthcare, and who should have done something when it all went wrong in Northern Ireland. I blame the women, don't know about you.
Yet I digress. We went to Sports Day, and cheered on James (Eye of the Tiger!) in his 100m dash. He came 6th, and staggered off somewhere to have a drink. Eager to escape from that Field of Hell - seriously, it must have been about 32 degrees out there - we went to Alex's garden.
Alex has a lovely flat in a very old building behind the Cathedral, and the building's flats share a very large and lovely garden. Alex is the only teenager in the building, so it has been a venue for many youthful debaucheries. They were wild. I mean steel-eroding wild.
On Friday, however, it was more peaceful; we lay around, talked, drank water, and I made an idiot of myself a few times. I can't really remember how, I just remember people laughing at me. Something about gum falling out of my mouth. I'm abused, seriously.
After Alex's, went back to Julia's for a bit, and then comes a curious blank in my memory. Something about snails. My memory scares me. My memory is the masked thug in the alley of my mind.
On to the leaver's dinner. I arrived at 6:30, hung around and talked to Chris and Spanner for a while, before Steg came in and told everyone was waiting outside for me! People must just assume I'd be late.
Everyone looked lovely, but Julia looked especially beautiful. I bought her a corsage - it's like a flower thing you're meant to buy your girl at a dance. I had only found this out the day before (after TWO balls and prom) so panicked and got her one. It was nice though.
It wasn't any ordinary corsage, either. It was the Corsage of Fate, for which I fought with the Florist of Interflora, over the Gate of Queens. I kicked some serious ass for those flowers.
We ate a reasonable dinner, argued about the death penalty, laughed at various things - you know, grownup dinner party stuff. Mr Longman made a short speech, awarding various prizes (Daniel was nominated for, but unjustly did not get, Scruff of the Year). The yearbooks were also distributed! They're quite good - pictures of everyone in the year, accompanied by a short piece written by themselves; I think Matt Benaton's was the funniest. After a frantic search for pens, people went around getting everyone they liked to sign them. Obviously, my hand was aching pretty soon.
I'm kidding.
It just dropped off from the strain.
Seriously.
Anyways; danced some more, walked to Alex's at 1am to read our yearbooks in bemused silence, then went home with Julia. Absolutely exhausted though (went to sleep at 3am, got up for work at 7am). Some other stuff happened this weeked...homeless centre, library, world cup disappointment, warhammer quest death, black and white, doctor who, graveyard, cooking...but that's another story.
I leave you with this story, showing that Terry Pratchett is scarily close to real life (re: the troll's concept of time).
http://www.physorg.com/news69338070.html
A Stopgap
This is a temporary post. To take up some space, because that damnable (aha) Dante's inferno table is messing up the look of my blog while I experiment with CSS.
Julia is next to me. I am hot. She is typing much faster than me, so I feel I must type faster to compensate, lest she subconciously castrate my manhood.
La la la la la la.
Is this enough space yet? I hope so.
What flies underwater?
A bird in a submarine!
Julia is next to me. I am hot. She is typing much faster than me, so I feel I must type faster to compensate, lest she subconciously castrate my manhood.
La la la la la la.
Is this enough space yet? I hope so.
What flies underwater?
A bird in a submarine!
Sunday, June 25, 2006
My soul is pure
The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to Purgatory!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repenting Believers) | Very High |
| Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | High |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | High |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | Low |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | Very Low |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | Low |
| Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) | Very Low |
| Level 7 (Violent) | Moderate |
| Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | Moderate |
| Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) | Very Low |
Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test
Monday, May 15, 2006
A worker's prerogative
It has been a long time since I last blogged; however, let's skip over the usual apologies and just move on. I am lazy, after all.
I am writing this on my new laptop. It is Toshiba...not sure what make. There is the word 'Satellite' printed on it, however. It cost £599 from John Lewis - the Shop at the Top. I should consider a career in advertising.
OK, considered - no.
Only two weeks (well, 9 days now) left at school - then it is over. 13 years of formal education ended - not, as some famous person once said, with a bang, but with a whimper. Everyone at school seems very dejected now - depressed and despairing, with the ominous shadow of exams looming over us.
Hit me with your rythym stick; it's nice to be a lunatic.
Listening to an album I found - Ian Dury and the Blockheads. A great band; surprised I have not heard more of them. Including the classic song, 'Reasons to be Cheerful'.
I am feeling rather cheerful right now, so here's the song's lyrics (with my own comments):
Why don't you get back into bed [repeated quite a few times...a tad depressing.]
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
1 2 3
Summer, Buddy Holly, the working folly [True, also true but he's dead, for the word folly]
Good golly Miss Molly and boats [Ooooooh yes. And sure, why not.]
Hammersmith Palais, the Bolshoi Ballet [Never heard of either.]
Jump back in the alley and nanny goats [Together? Sick. Plain sick.]
18-wheeler Scammels, Domenecker camels [Camels! Yes!]
All other mammals plus equal votes [Obviously.]
Seeing Piccadilly, Fanny Smith and Willy [Heh. Fanny. Willy.]
Being rather silly, and porridge oats [Yup. These are wise men.]
A bit of grin and bear it, a bit of come and share it [More of both is needed.]
You're welcome, we can spare it - yellow socks [I have none. Maybe I should.]
Too short to be haughty, too nutty to be naughty [That's me.]
Going on 40 - no electric shocks [Aah, the middle-age insulatory effect.]
The juice of the carrot, the smile of the parrot [Damn parrot ate my carrot.]
A little drop of claret - anything that rocks [No claret; plenty of rocks.]
Elvis and Scotty, days when I ain't spotty, [Beam him up.]
Sitting on the potty - curing smallpox [An Elvis reference? Cheap joke.]
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
1 2 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Health service glasses [Yes! Mine were free.]
Gigolos and brasses [Now steady on there.]
Round or skinny bottoms [Ummm...sure.]
Take your mum to Paris [Not in the near future.]
Lighting up the chalice [Satanic rituals? Maybe not...]
Wee willy harris [Sounds like a great bloke.]
Bantu Stephen Biko, listening to Rico [No idea.]
Harpo, Groucho, Chico [Go Marx! Communist comedy.]
Cheddar cheese and pickle, the Vincent motorsickle [Desperate for a rhyme.]
Slap and tickle [Heh.]
Woody Allen, Dali, Dimitri and Pasquale [In one glorious blend.]
balabalabala and Volare [Nonsense. Just silly.]
Something nice to study, phoning up a buddy [Bingo.]
Being in my nuddy [Every day.]
Saying hokey-dokey, singalonga Smokey [It works, it's true.]
Coming out of chokey [The sweet smell of freedom. That damn rat.]
John Coltrane's soprano, Adi Celentano
Bonar Colleano [No idea. Something about singing.]
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
1 2 3
Yes yes
dear dear
perhaps next year
or maybe even never
in which case
Reasons to be cheerful part 3 [And goes on...]
A great song. I urge you to download it immediately. Or ask me to send it to you.
I am writing this on my new laptop. It is Toshiba...not sure what make. There is the word 'Satellite' printed on it, however. It cost £599 from John Lewis - the Shop at the Top. I should consider a career in advertising.
OK, considered - no.
Only two weeks (well, 9 days now) left at school - then it is over. 13 years of formal education ended - not, as some famous person once said, with a bang, but with a whimper. Everyone at school seems very dejected now - depressed and despairing, with the ominous shadow of exams looming over us.
Hit me with your rythym stick; it's nice to be a lunatic.
Listening to an album I found - Ian Dury and the Blockheads. A great band; surprised I have not heard more of them. Including the classic song, 'Reasons to be Cheerful'.
I am feeling rather cheerful right now, so here's the song's lyrics (with my own comments):
Why don't you get back into bed [repeated quite a few times...a tad depressing.]
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
1 2 3
Summer, Buddy Holly, the working folly [True, also true but he's dead, for the word folly]
Good golly Miss Molly and boats [Ooooooh yes. And sure, why not.]
Hammersmith Palais, the Bolshoi Ballet [Never heard of either.]
Jump back in the alley and nanny goats [Together? Sick. Plain sick.]
18-wheeler Scammels, Domenecker camels [Camels! Yes!]
All other mammals plus equal votes [Obviously.]
Seeing Piccadilly, Fanny Smith and Willy [Heh. Fanny. Willy.]
Being rather silly, and porridge oats [Yup. These are wise men.]
A bit of grin and bear it, a bit of come and share it [More of both is needed.]
You're welcome, we can spare it - yellow socks [I have none. Maybe I should.]
Too short to be haughty, too nutty to be naughty [That's me.]
Going on 40 - no electric shocks [Aah, the middle-age insulatory effect.]
The juice of the carrot, the smile of the parrot [Damn parrot ate my carrot.]
A little drop of claret - anything that rocks [No claret; plenty of rocks.]
Elvis and Scotty, days when I ain't spotty, [Beam him up.]
Sitting on the potty - curing smallpox [An Elvis reference? Cheap joke.]
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
1 2 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Health service glasses [Yes! Mine were free.]
Gigolos and brasses [Now steady on there.]
Round or skinny bottoms [Ummm...sure.]
Take your mum to Paris [Not in the near future.]
Lighting up the chalice [Satanic rituals? Maybe not...]
Wee willy harris [Sounds like a great bloke.]
Bantu Stephen Biko, listening to Rico [No idea.]
Harpo, Groucho, Chico [Go Marx! Communist comedy.]
Cheddar cheese and pickle, the Vincent motorsickle [Desperate for a rhyme.]
Slap and tickle [Heh.]
Woody Allen, Dali, Dimitri and Pasquale [In one glorious blend.]
balabalabala and Volare [Nonsense. Just silly.]
Something nice to study, phoning up a buddy [Bingo.]
Being in my nuddy [Every day.]
Saying hokey-dokey, singalonga Smokey [It works, it's true.]
Coming out of chokey [The sweet smell of freedom. That damn rat.]
John Coltrane's soprano, Adi Celentano
Bonar Colleano [No idea. Something about singing.]
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
1 2 3
Yes yes
dear dear
perhaps next year
or maybe even never
in which case
Reasons to be cheerful part 3 [And goes on...]
A great song. I urge you to download it immediately. Or ask me to send it to you.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
The Hunt for i
Look here, boy. I've seen and done more things than you can ever imagine. I've travelled past the wall of Quadratics into the wilderness of Polynomials, where I've seen higher degrees than you could ever count.
I've charted graphs with turning points the size of an elephant, and asymptotes to match.
I've wrestled with surds, battled over indices, and expanded more brackets than you could shake a stick at.
Yet for 20 years now, I have been gripped by the most elusive prey of all - i.
I first heard of this tricky beast in a bar in the Domain of the Real, chatting to a pretty little irrational, when silence fell, and a -1 walked through the doors. As we all stared at this outsider in our midst, a Pi near the door stood up and grabbed it roughly from behind.
"Sorry boy. Irrationals only in this part of town."
But -1 just winked, and then did something I thought impossible - rooted itself. The room was in chaos, and I was sprinting towards the site, but arrived too late. I looked at the window to see i disappearing round the corner.
After that, the chase was on. Hopping onto my faithful Axiom, I followed its tracks as fast as I could, but the trail was getting cold fast. It petered out eventually when I was in Trigonometry Town.
I asked a nearby Cosine if it had seen any imaginary numbers nearby, and it looked shifty and muttered something, walking quickly away. My hackles were raised and my guard was down. I had always thought there was something fishy about these periodic functions, and it seems I was justified - they were in cahoots with i.
Walking past some women catching a Tan in the midday sun, I spotted it! i jumped onto the back of a Sin(Pi/2) and was gone in a flash. I ran to the cliff where they were last, but could only see Exponential Territory - yet there was no apparent route to get there from Trigonometry Town. What was the link?!?
I heard a snuffling down by feet, and saw a baby Cosh, begging for scraps. I nudged it with my foot, to give me some space to think, and idly watched it walk away over the cliff, and vanished. I stood, dumbfounded, when I saw the path, infinite yet almost invisible - Maclaurin Series!
Differentiating f(0) with every step, I arrived in Exponential Territory, only to be disgusted with what I saw. Innocent integers were everywhere, scuttling underfoot of the omnipotent e. The numbers were clearly slaves to their irrational masters, who walked away with their indexes bare for all the world to see. I turned a corner, and stopped in amazement. There was one of my dearest friends, Pi, cavorting with both e and i, my enemies. They stopped when they saw me watching, and before I could blink, equalised into -1, which quickly differentiated and was gone.
I have never given up my search, but have had no luck. Nowhere in the Domain of the Real can I find this elusive number i, and much darkness has been uncovered by my searching. Yet I feel sure that the truth is out there, somewhere. Perhaps one day we shall leave this Number Line and advance into the Complex Space, to find a new world that we have scarcely dreamed of.
If there is such a number as i, and it has not been some imaginary dream, that is where it will be found.
I've charted graphs with turning points the size of an elephant, and asymptotes to match.
I've wrestled with surds, battled over indices, and expanded more brackets than you could shake a stick at.
Yet for 20 years now, I have been gripped by the most elusive prey of all - i.
I first heard of this tricky beast in a bar in the Domain of the Real, chatting to a pretty little irrational, when silence fell, and a -1 walked through the doors. As we all stared at this outsider in our midst, a Pi near the door stood up and grabbed it roughly from behind.
"Sorry boy. Irrationals only in this part of town."
But -1 just winked, and then did something I thought impossible - rooted itself. The room was in chaos, and I was sprinting towards the site, but arrived too late. I looked at the window to see i disappearing round the corner.
After that, the chase was on. Hopping onto my faithful Axiom, I followed its tracks as fast as I could, but the trail was getting cold fast. It petered out eventually when I was in Trigonometry Town.
I asked a nearby Cosine if it had seen any imaginary numbers nearby, and it looked shifty and muttered something, walking quickly away. My hackles were raised and my guard was down. I had always thought there was something fishy about these periodic functions, and it seems I was justified - they were in cahoots with i.
Walking past some women catching a Tan in the midday sun, I spotted it! i jumped onto the back of a Sin(Pi/2) and was gone in a flash. I ran to the cliff where they were last, but could only see Exponential Territory - yet there was no apparent route to get there from Trigonometry Town. What was the link?!?
I heard a snuffling down by feet, and saw a baby Cosh, begging for scraps. I nudged it with my foot, to give me some space to think, and idly watched it walk away over the cliff, and vanished. I stood, dumbfounded, when I saw the path, infinite yet almost invisible - Maclaurin Series!
Differentiating f(0) with every step, I arrived in Exponential Territory, only to be disgusted with what I saw. Innocent integers were everywhere, scuttling underfoot of the omnipotent e. The numbers were clearly slaves to their irrational masters, who walked away with their indexes bare for all the world to see. I turned a corner, and stopped in amazement. There was one of my dearest friends, Pi, cavorting with both e and i, my enemies. They stopped when they saw me watching, and before I could blink, equalised into -1, which quickly differentiated and was gone.
I have never given up my search, but have had no luck. Nowhere in the Domain of the Real can I find this elusive number i, and much darkness has been uncovered by my searching. Yet I feel sure that the truth is out there, somewhere. Perhaps one day we shall leave this Number Line and advance into the Complex Space, to find a new world that we have scarcely dreamed of.
If there is such a number as i, and it has not been some imaginary dream, that is where it will be found.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
A Very Important Matter
Good evening everyone.
I am writing to alert you all about a very serious danger - one that is a constant presence in our everyday life, yet a peril that has so far been overlooked by the government.
I speak, of course, of the evils of toast sweat.
Toast sweat was first pointed out to us 10 years ago by Father Frasier, in a classic episode, with a moral slant. In what was no doubt intended to be a criticism of modern values, Frasier's father Martin lectures Frasier on the repercussions of leaving toast upon the counter, only to have Frasier respond with scorn and derision, dismissing toast sweat as a serious threat.
How many of us have held that same attitude?
Yet the negative effects of toast sweat have run havoc through Frasier's life. Never being able to hold onto a serious relationship, occasional job insecurity, a neurotic brother, grouchy father, and a series of humourous misunderstandings and cases of mistaken identities - all, it could be said, avoidable had Frasier not paid more heed to his father's warning.
Let us take a lesson from this foolishness, and take a moment to examine the effect toast sweat has had upon our own lives. It begins with buttering toast on the counter, without a plate - yet how quickly it spreads. Soon, in our haste, we leave this residue on the counter, allowing bacteria to fester and multiply. The next counter user sees this, and wipes it up. Yet all too soon do they too dismiss it, and leave it be. With the sweat soon comes its cronies - unwashed plates, crumbs, and tomato pus.
Within a matter of weeks, the kitchen is a FESTERING MASS OF DISEASE. Sure, like Frasier's, it may look respectable, but the rot has set in underneath. And as the kitchen, heart of the household, begins to corrupt, so does it affect the rest of the house and all who live in it.
Homework is not done, tea not made, clothes not washed, carpets not vacuumed. This external chaos soon penetrates into the family's hearts, and our very souls and minds are in turmoil!
How many careers have been ruined, relationships broken, friendships drained, parent-child bonds cut forever due to this threat upon our sanity!
And yet, ironically, it is one so easily avoided.
So please, my friends (and this applies to us all!) when you see toast sweat lying upon the counter - whether it was made by you or not - wipe it up immediately. Do not become complacent, or think 'someone else' will do it - there is no-one else.
Only YOU can save mankind!
I am writing to alert you all about a very serious danger - one that is a constant presence in our everyday life, yet a peril that has so far been overlooked by the government.
I speak, of course, of the evils of toast sweat.
Toast sweat was first pointed out to us 10 years ago by Father Frasier, in a classic episode, with a moral slant. In what was no doubt intended to be a criticism of modern values, Frasier's father Martin lectures Frasier on the repercussions of leaving toast upon the counter, only to have Frasier respond with scorn and derision, dismissing toast sweat as a serious threat.
How many of us have held that same attitude?
Yet the negative effects of toast sweat have run havoc through Frasier's life. Never being able to hold onto a serious relationship, occasional job insecurity, a neurotic brother, grouchy father, and a series of humourous misunderstandings and cases of mistaken identities - all, it could be said, avoidable had Frasier not paid more heed to his father's warning.
Let us take a lesson from this foolishness, and take a moment to examine the effect toast sweat has had upon our own lives. It begins with buttering toast on the counter, without a plate - yet how quickly it spreads. Soon, in our haste, we leave this residue on the counter, allowing bacteria to fester and multiply. The next counter user sees this, and wipes it up. Yet all too soon do they too dismiss it, and leave it be. With the sweat soon comes its cronies - unwashed plates, crumbs, and tomato pus.
Within a matter of weeks, the kitchen is a FESTERING MASS OF DISEASE. Sure, like Frasier's, it may look respectable, but the rot has set in underneath. And as the kitchen, heart of the household, begins to corrupt, so does it affect the rest of the house and all who live in it.
Homework is not done, tea not made, clothes not washed, carpets not vacuumed. This external chaos soon penetrates into the family's hearts, and our very souls and minds are in turmoil!
How many careers have been ruined, relationships broken, friendships drained, parent-child bonds cut forever due to this threat upon our sanity!
And yet, ironically, it is one so easily avoided.
So please, my friends (and this applies to us all!) when you see toast sweat lying upon the counter - whether it was made by you or not - wipe it up immediately. Do not become complacent, or think 'someone else' will do it - there is no-one else.
Only YOU can save mankind!
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