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:

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.

Monthly puns

July!

No, seriously.

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

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!

My soul is pure

The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to Purgatory!
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

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.

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.

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!

Back from the Lakes

Hello everyone!

Me and Julia have returned from the lake district, and a very enjoyable holiday. I'm sure she'll do a big blog with silly things like 'details' and 'photos', so I needn't bother with such trivialities here. Nay, I will write about the important things she misses out - the food.

On the train journey up on the Tuesday, we had lunch at Crewe station, in a break in between changes - bought from an overpriced sandwhich bar, of course. Served by a tattooed northern lady, who did not quite understand that when we asked for our baguettes 'toasted', we in fact meant 'we want it HOT!'. While we could have stated that directly, we'd have probably been arrested for sexual harrasment.

Anyhow. I had a cheddar cheese and bacon baguette, and Julia had a ham and mozzarella (the European version of mine, basically). Both were lovely, though Julia couldn't eat all of hers, so I finished it on the train.

That evening, we ate in a Chinese restaurant in Penrith - Platinum, I believe it was called. They had an all you can eat type offer, but without the buffet.

We ordered prawn toast, seaweed, ham rolls, pork triangles, and spring rolls for starters. Toast, triangles and seaweed were delicious, and the ham rolls (new!, it boasted on the menu) were crispy - Julia didn't like them, but I did. Julia liked the spring rolls, but I was put off by a weird...tentacle thing in mine.

We had sweet and sour pork and beef in green pepper and black bean sauce for a main meal, along with egg fried rice. I liked the pork! This is more significant that it sounds, as I have always hated sweet and sour, but now I like it. This doubles my choice in future chinese restaurants.

For a dessert, I had bannana fritters, covered in syrup and ice cream, and disturbingly phallic. They were heaven deep-fried, as usual, and Julia helped me finish them off. Then we wound down with some chinese tea, and read the tealeaves. Oh, and of course there were prawn crackers.

Our first hotel breakfast there Wednesday morning - we had a pot of tea to wake us up, and Julia had some crazy health fad - 'fruit juice', or something. I had some weetabix mush to warm me up, and then we had cooked breakfast. Bacon, beans, hash browns, sausage, scrambled eggs. Julia was more adventurous than I, having tomatoes and mushrooms as well, but we both steered clear of the black pudding.

For lunch we had afternoon tea in the hotel lounge. I had ham sandwiches, victoria sponge and toasted tea cake, which I managed to polish off even though I was stuffed. Julia had chicken ceaser salad in a wrap. I found the tea up there quite bitter compared to my normal tea.

For dinner, we ate at a little Italian place opposite the hotel - I forget the name. Quite crowded, but very friendly staff. From their accents, I deduced they were Australians who worked in Italy before moving to Cumbria. I had canneloni - very good, if a smaller portion than I'd have liked, and Julia had...chicken penne pasta, I think. Hers was lovely, and she claimed the portion was just right. We also had garlic bread on the side. Being the impetuous devil I am, I also ordered homemade bread with our meal, despite Julia's warnings. After a mild panic at the lack of oil (corrected by our Aus-Ital-British friend), we also ate that as well, so I was vindicated in the end.

For dessert, I had profiteroles - with white chocolate! Those crazy Cumbrians. I prefer it to regular, I think. Julia had lemon sorbet. No tea for us, we waited till we were back in the hotel.

Another breakfast, another weetabix, another sausage etc - though with a boiled egg this time.

We had lunch in Glenridding after the steamer ride, and we ate in Greystones cafe - where we went last year in the lake district with the others! I had a jacket potato with beans and cheese, as all jacket potatoes should be. Julia had a ham and cheese toastie - good, though not as good as mine apparently. We had tea with it, of course. We decided to treat ourselves to some cakes as well - I had lemon drizzle (nicer than it sounds) and Julia had chocolate cake, which is hard to get wrong, really. Oh, and I paid by card!

We had dinner in the hotel restaurant, and it was the best of the holiday. Julia had a vegetable soup for starters (nicer than it looked), and I satisfied myself with some bread. Julia had a venison steak in a fancy sauce, and I had a medium sirloin steak - being the fusspot I am, I asked for the sauce in a seperate container, just in case. It was all amazing though.

For dessert, Julia had profiteroles, and I had apple sponge and custard - very nice, though a little too much sponge and not enough apple. Then we settled down with some tea in the hotel lounge.

Our final hotel breakfast, same as Thursday's, though I was bit messier with my boiled egg. We had lunch in Keswick, in a coffee shop. I had teacakes and a (lovely) bannana milkshake, and Julia had a vegetable soup, on which she scalded her tongue quite badly. I resisted the temptation for an ice cream, and was rewarded by having no money to pay with, resulting in a panicked trip to the cash machine.

Finally, we bought some food at around 7 on the train back home. We snapped up the last sandwich, and I devoured most of it - not very nice, but I was too hungry to care. And with that, a twix and a cherry muffin, the food, and our holiday, was at an end.

Results!

18th August, 2005 - a day that will live in infamy!

All over the UK, hundreds of thousands of students tore open their brown envelopes - some eagerly, some with trepidation, and some just plain drunk - to find out whether their hopes were dashed or their egos inflated.

Eyes were filled with tears, mouths with laughter, streets with the blood of innocents (so I am told).

And during all this medley and mayhem, a young 17 year old by the name of Thomas Bloom, just out of potty training, fumbled with his own brown envelope to receive his results.

Unfortunately, at that moment, a freak gust of wind blew a brick through his school hall's window. Due to a stroke of bad luck, simultaneously, a seagull high on sardines and crack was flying towards the window. It snatched the envelope out of Thomas's hands and flew back towards its flock, croaking triumphantly.

Not one to be beaten by a feathered felon, Tom put on his propellor beanie hat and fired it up, rocketing up after the bird.

The bird panicked at this unexpected pursuit, and called for its flock to come and aid it in this life or death struggle. Hundreds of druggy seagulls divebomped towards the happless sixth former.

Bringing out his handy sardine with his customary flourish, Tom threw to his right, and laughed evilly as the seagulls dashed towards it, leaving the way between him and his enemy clear.

His battlecry still ringing through the clear summer sky, Tom grabbed the bird, and after a firm beak twist, released it and opened his results:

(The total of my ASs):

Religious Studies: 283/300 (A)
Mathematics: 300/300 (A)
Further Mathematics: 295/300 (A)
Economics: 275/300 (A)
History: 283/300 (A)
General Studies: 283/300 (A)

Hmm...awful lot of 283s now I look at it. Coincidence? I think not...

Under extreme duress

I kid you not.

Earlier this evening, I was having an MSN conversation with Julia, and she was nagging me to blog - naturally I biggled her off with my usual daring excuse skills:

Come away with me says:
Why don't you
Come away with me says:
?
Joth says:
I would, but...
Joth says:
I HAVE NO HANDS
Come away with me says:
Oh...OK...

And so this conversation passed into the distant memories of five minutes earlier. However, I then heard a knock on the door. Rising from my throne of skulls, wading through my ocean of blood, I opened the door. Behind it was...nothing. I closed the door, waded back, clambered back up the bones of the ancients, only to find a black cat sitting on my throne.

Angered by this intrusion into my inner sanctum, I rose to my full height, towering a full two feet over the sitting cat. Glaring down with my baleful eyes, I demanded a full explanation and apology for this trespass.

The cat licked itself, and waved its tail laconically.

Well, by now, my face was pretty crimson, I can tell you. I was just about to unleash an eternity of pain and torment, when I noticed the cat was now sitting upon my horned helmet.

To be precise, it had attached a furry ball to one of the horns, and was now batting it around with its paw.

Marvelling at this feline felon's stealth, the horrific truth dawned on me, like a horrific dawn:

IT WAS A NINJA CAT!!!!!

That's right - one of the infamous Ninja Cats of the Mm'baatou Mountains, trained under the Great Sensei Sweep, and who probably studied under the Deathmaster Zapp!

I quickly ran through a mental checklist of my enemies powerful enough to have one such of these as a servant. Buddha...not his style...Bono...wouldn't have chosen a -black- cat...that guy at Waterstones...no, killed him last week...Julia! Of course!

Evidently she had been greatly incensed, and had sent after me one of her prized henchpets to make sure I did my blogging.

So here I sit, hunched over the keyboard, lightly dusted in cat hair, while that dealer in death, that purveyor of pain, that seller of stealth, that tradesman in terror, that sh- OW!

OK, enough metaphors.

While that cat sits on my lap, purring softly.

I'm just thankful that my allergies haven't....ACHOO!