And while I’ve failed at hitting it, having scooped up my laptop and gone down to the beach only to have to turn around and come back when the sun disappeared behind thick, dark clouds, Ruth seems to have grasped the concept quite well. She’s reading papers in anticipation of her final ever exam tomorrow, and, well…
I saw XKCD #584 – “Unsatisfied” – this morning. In the comic (in a slightly Sliding Doors way), a man chooses between one of two lovers, and spends the rest of his life thinking about the other one in a “what if” kind-of way, leaving him ultimately unsatisfied with his life, regardless of which he chooses.
Go read the comic if you haven’t yet.
I had a slightly smug moment, and ‘shopped this together:
The Economist has a story about a bill going through US Congress about the noise (or lack thereof) made by electric and some hybrid cars. For years, I’ve pretty much predicted this development. Only I meant it in a tongue-in-cheek way.
“Cars are getting quieter and quieter,” I’ve been heard to say, “And electric and hybrid cars promise to be quieter still. I’ll bet that someday, people will realise that these quiet cars are actually more dangerous than traditional, noisy cars with internal combustion engines, and at that point laws will be passed requiring cars to make a noise.”
“There’s already legislation that requires indicators to make a ‘tick-tock’ sound, since we did away with the relays that used to make the sound we associate with indicators. Cheap cars tend to make a shitty-sounding, very-obviously-synthesised sound. So, we can assume that cheap cars in the future will make the cheapest-sounding ‘engine’ sounds. You’ll hear them coming with a uniform ‘brum-brum-brum-brum-brum’ sound, or a grating ‘bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz’.”
“But cars are more than a means of transport; they’re a status symbol, and we already see people tricking out their wheels with glowy lights and things that make their exhaust pipes louder and fake spoilers. And as time goes on, the technology to make higher-quality synthesised sounds will make it into the cheap, chavvy cars. And what’ll happen when the cheap, chavvy cars get sold, with sophisticated built-in synthesisers? The same thing that happened when the cheap mobile phones became capable of playing sophisticated audio formats: custom ringtones.”
“Someday, within my lifetime, somebody will be run over by a car that sounds like Crazy Frog. And it will be both sad and hilarious in equal measure.”
Something we didn’t see coming a decade ago.
I’m sick of hobbling round on a crutch. Sure, it was an interesting novelty for the first couple of days, even despite the fact that I got almost no sympathy from folks (and, to be fair, I deserved none – what kind of idiot cripples himself while chasing after cake?). But now I’m just sick of it. Today, two weeks after my tumble, is the first day that I’m walking around outdoors without a crutch (and without being in pain). I still need a little bit of help from one when going up or down slopes (but not stairs), so I’m still carrying my happy little aluminium pole around with me, but I’m able to support my entire weight with either foot once more, so that’s a big step forward.
Helped out with Aberystwyth Samaritans fundraising event at Varsity, although as I wasn’t quite up to walking around on my bad foot I wasn’t able to go around shaking buckets, but I did end up with “24:7” face-painted on my forehead, and apparently a decent sum of money was raised by the event, so not all bad.
I bought myself an EeePC 1000 this last week, too. I’ve never had a very good relationship with laptops, but I felt that it was probably time to give one another go, and in particular I wanted something small, light, cool, and quiet, with a fabulous battery life, so the Eee 1000 it had to be. I’ve been really very, very impressed with it so far (at least, having stripped off the silly OS that came on it and replaced it with Eeebuntu). I’ll try to find time to write more about it in due course.
The only other little bit of excitement for me, apart from being nicknamed “Hobbles” by just about everybody down here, was seeing the new Star Trek film at the Commodore last night. And while I thought the story was compelling and well-written and that the film was pitched right for a new generation of Star Trek fans, I can’t help but take issue at the artistic choices made by the director and by the special effects team. For example, whose clever idea was it that to show the vast, empty, hostility of space, the best way to shoot was entirely in close-ups? I’m pretty sure the only wide shot in the entire film is of the Academy! And what’s with all the lens effects? Barely a scene goes by without some digitally-added bloom or glare or lens flare. They were cute to begin with, when we’re panning across the bridge of the Enterprise in all it’s “this is what the inside of your iMac looks like” glory, but by the seventh or eighth time, it’s easy to get sick of. All in all, it’s a mediocre to good Star Trek film, not worthy in my mind of all the hype it’s attracting.
While I was out having lunch at SALT with Ruth, JTA, and Claire, I missed a message from Beth, who’s currently out in Indonesia. She writes (or click the piccy, above, which also includes a great photo showing exactly what she seems to want to say to us all):
greetings!
you’ve left yourself signed in and buggered off I guess. Well, love to all Aberites xx
So, there we are, Aberites: I’ve passed on Beth’s love to you all. Never say I don’t give you anything.
It’s that time of year again: registration for BiCon 2009 is now open! Claire and I will be going, as usual (and, in accordance with the tradition, as this’ll be our third year on the trot, it’ll become tradition that we go), and you’re welcome to come, too! Yes, you!
Rather than re-hash an old post, I’ll just link to some of the things I’ve said before about how great it is, and why you should come along. If you’re interested, leave a comment or get in touch with me privately and I’ll make sure you get to come along (or, of course, you could just turn up, but this way you’re more likely to get to share a flat with us for the weekend).
Prices this year start at £97 – for three nights regular accomodation plus event passes for Thursday afternoon, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday morning plus the inevitable post-conference faffing – and it’s 20th-23rd August 2009, at the University of Worcester, so nice and central and not too much of a trek whether you’re hitching a ride with us from Aberystwyth or making your own way there.
Here’s me telling you why you should come along, if you’re not convinced:
If you’re not persuaded to come, but you think you’d like to be, get in touch!
So here’s my foot, this morning. 92 hours after the injury, this morning it seems to have turned a deep purple. I’m quite impressed with the bruise on the toes, which never actually sustained any injury directly.
Having gone from a light blue to a dark blue through to purple, I’m hoping that it’s going to heal before it pushes any further through the electromagnetic spectrum and starts producing X-rays.
As a song came on the radio (well, Club 977 – The 80s Channel), Ruth laughed. “What?” I asked.
“This song just reminded me of a webcomic I read today about song mash-ups,” she replied.
“Oh yeah. I read that one. Which webcomic was it?”
“I don’t remember.”
It was only when we started thinking in terms of Venn diagrams that we realised which webcomic we’d seen this particular joke in.
It was XKCD #575. By the time we were finding set intersections, we should have guessed that it would have been XKCD.
In other news, my leg is still sore, but people keep giving me cake, so that’s good. I went back to work today, on my crutches, and it was completely exhausting. On the other hand, it’s probably giving my arms some good exercise, which might just make up for not going to circuit training this week (I’ve been forbidden from doing so on account of my injuries, despite my protests that I’d be perfectly capable of doing shuttle runs and squats and exercise bikes like this, right?).
Something that happens with reasonable regularity at work is that the caterers, who bring delicious sandwiches and cakes for the many meetings that take place in the building and the building next door, have excess food at the end of a meeting (particularly if it’s a Welsh Assembly meeting, as they seem to be particularly good at cancelling their meetings and forgetting to cancel the catering service). And, as always, when this happens, a co-worker and I race down to the ground floor kitchen to get at the best of the remains – the delicious cookies and cakes (by the way, I can heartily recommend Madeline’s for cakes and buffets: even if I didn’t occasionally get their fabulous food for free, it’d be awesome) – before the folks from the other offices do.
Of late, there’s been particularly tough competition. These days, SmartData is on the top floor of our building, with a fabulous view of the marina and the nearby beach (at which my boss, a keen windsurfer, can sometimes be seen staring wistfully on days when the conditions are just right for watersports). And while this is all good from the perspective of having a great view, it means that we have a lot further to go to loot the remains of abandoned buffets on the ground floor than, say, some of the hungry-man-filled companies on the first floor. And so they sometimes get their first and eat all of the tastiest leftovers, if we let them.
I’ve gotten pretty quick at getting to the ground floor, though. A co-worker and I have discovered that, by using the fire escape and leaping down about four steps or more at a time, we can be from our office to the ground floor kitchen in a little over 25 seconds (I don’t know why he bothers, personally: he’s allergic to just about everything in the world, and only gets to eat tiny nibbles of anything that we’re able to scavenge). And herein lay the imminent, inevitable disaster.
This afternoon, I’d just put on my coat with the intention of going across the road to the shop where Paul works, to buy some lunch, when the call came in: there was food left over in the downstairs kitchen. Already ready to leave the office anyway, I was off like a shot, rocketing out and into the stairwell of the fire escape. And there, somewhere between the second and the first floor, is where I tripped, and fell head-over-heels down an entire flight of stairs.
There was quite a bit of shouting and grunting before I tried to stand up again. No good – my foot gave way beneath me with even more pain. Realising I was in the fire escape and not somewhere that anybody might look for me, I pulled out my phone to call the office, upstairs, and get some help. I hadn’t got that far, though, when somebody from one of the middle-floor offices (conveniently, from a first-aid perspective, a volunteer lifeboatman) heard my pained grunts and came in to find out what was going on.
A quick trip to casualty later, it turns out that it’s not fractured, thankfully, but is (as I already knew) too painful to walk on, so I’m stuck at home with my leg in the air and crutches to move around on. It’s really quite remarkably painful, as I keep forgetting when I’m happily dosed-up on painkillers and laying back, playing Wii games (although not the high-energy, active ones, of course), until I try to hobble to the toilet or something, whimpering as I go. Oh, and why didn’t anybody tell me (I’ve never used them before) that crutches are actually pretty hard work? <sighs>
(on the upside, and you know I always look for an upside, I met a cute radiologist with a hot Scottish accent)
So; I’m feeling kind-of useless and at least a little bit stupid. I’d write more but I don’t have time, because I’m going to try to pull myself together enough to get to Rory‘s birthday meal and I suspect it’ll take me a while to get my boots on over my enormously swollen foot. Here goes…
Sloppy blogging, on my part, but I’ve been a busy boy lately and haven’t had time to say a lot. On the other hand, I’ve been twittering a little (but don’t worry, you’ll never catch me telling the world what’s on my sandwiches at lunchtime or what song I’m listening to right this second… unless, of course, it’s a dolphin steak and cream cheese sandwich or I’m listening to the 1995 Beatles Reunion Album or something else that’s actually worth remarking about).
Adam’s Big Birthday
What have I been up to, then. Well; there was Adam‘s 30th birthday, which shall probably hereafter be known as “Adam’s twenty-mmgphhnn <cough> th birthday”, which – as it seems he’s not going to say anything about, I suppose I ought to, not least because it’s an excuse to share some photos I might not otherwise have bothered to.
His birthday fell on a Troma Night, so Ruth baked a stack of muffins which were subsequently decorated by everybody who got to Troma Night before Adam did. The idea was to decorate them with “all of his favourite things”… can you begin to imagine what a stack of muffins look like when they’re iced with the BBC logo, twinkly little stars, ejaculating penises, a TARDIS, and – on one particularly well-decorated muffin (thanks Penny!) – a fabulous looking Dalek.
The Dalek is particularly impressive, yeah? I was impressed, anyway.
Andy & Sian Visit
The other thing that’s occupied plenty of my time is the string of visiting friends we’ve had in town. First up was Andy & Sian, who came up from Cardiff to open the new football stand for Aber Town, in memory of Sian’s brother, who died suddenly a few years ago.
It was great to catch up with them, eat curry with them, and play board games with them, especially as I hadn’t expected to see either of them again before the oft-promised Cardiff Is Amazing (are we still doing this, folks? how does the new proposed date sound to everybody?).
Jen & Nick Visit
Next up on the visiting queue were Jen and her new man, Nick. She’d been planning to come as part of her tour of the UK (I gather that she was at a wedding somewhere over here, too).
Nick’s a fab chap, and he and Jen make a great couple. Oh, and I got a video of Nick and Claire singing karaoke at the Inn on the Pier.
Incidentally, Jen: is this your watch? If so, you’ve left it here – where do you want me to post it?
Matt P Visits
Next up was Matt‘s visit, over Easter weekend. Claire and I hadn’t even gotten around to putting away our inflatable bed since Jen & Nick had borrowed it the previous weekend, which turned out to be convenient on account of the fact that it saved us from having to get it back out again.
Ruth organised a collaborative Easter egg hunt for us all (by which I mean; she supplied us all with Easter eggs, each with somebody else’s name on, which we had to hide) out in a nature reserve in the Rheidol Valley, which was a lot of fun. Rory‘s posted a fantastic video from the event, featuring mostly me looking like a prat as I hunt for the most obviously-hidden egg in the history of egg-hiding.
On Easter Sunday I ate too much. But I didn’t turn into a butterfly, just a big flabby ball of chocolate-muching.
And There’s More…
Andy & Faye are in Aberystwyth until tomorrow morning. Didn’t know they were here? Nor did I, until Andy was already on a train. I guess this counts as a “stealth visit.” I got to meet up with them for a smoothie after work yesterday, but couldn’t make it out to the pub with them. I invited them to Sci-Fi Night, though, but I don’t know if they’re up for that or not. In any case, you all know where to find them, now, so I feel like I’ve done my part to decloak them, in that way I do.
And I gather that Bryn will be down for the weekend as part of some variety of LUG gathering. Don’t people phone, text or blog ahead any more? What’s the world coming to?
Plenty more to say, but I’ll save it for another day.
I think Claire would appreciate me sharing the following photograph with you all. Click for a bigger version:
From left to right – Kryten 2X4B-523P (Robert Llewellyn), Arnold Judas Rimmer (Chris Barrie), Claire Q (playing herself), and The Cat (Danny John-Jules).
In the background you can just make out the tail fins of what I’m told is “Carbug.”
You can keep up with what Claire’s up to in London with the Red Dwarf cast and crew via her Twitter feed. Go take a look.
In case you hadn’t seen the kind of news story I’m talking about, here’s one.
Couldn’t help but think that this might be the inevitable consequence:
Thanks, Mum.
Thanks for your company. You’re family, sure, but more than that, you’re one of my best friends. Whether it’s a long-overdue chat about the state of the world, a drunken night in with awful films, a gaming session with the girls, or an evening at the theatre, you always make time for us. You’re never more than a phone call or e-mail away, and that’s awesome.
Thanks for being the mother my friends are jealous of me having.
Thanks for your support. When things are rough, I know that you care. A long, long time ago, you saw fit to remind me that no matter what happens, you’ll always be there to help, and just knowing that seems to make everything go right. You’re my lucky clover.
Thanks for giving me the respect you’d give another adult, even when I wasn’t one.
Thanks for your advice. You’re one of the smartest, wisest people I know, and you’re unafraid to speak your mind. I admire the way you explain yourself, listen to others, and mediate. But thanks, too, for letting me make my own mistakes, and for supporting me even when you knew I was wrong.
Thanks for being humble enough that you’ll scoff when you read this.
Thanks for my upbringing. Thanks for instilling into me a set of virtues that are both idealistic and pragmatic. Thanks for teaching me to question everything, and not take anything at face value. And thank you – thank you so much – for making sure that for my entire life, there’s never been a moment when I’ve felt unloved.
Just… thanks, Mum. I love you.
Dan
Took and passed my driving theory test this lunchtime. 50/50 (pass mark 44) on the multiple choice bit, and 66/75 (pass mark, again, 44) on the silly little hazard perception video, which’ll do.
Not one question about stopping distances, meaning that I’ve committed to memory that most useless of information (I mean, am I really going to spot a child running into the road and start counting the car-lengths between me and him to work out if I need to start braking yet?) for no reason whatsoever. It feels like they’re all stuck in my head, now, so I may have to knock up a quick computer quiz to ask me those “missing” questions so I can release them again.
So yeah; there we are. Suppose I ought to have a practical test sometime.
Here’s a photo I took this afternoon especially for Jimmy:
It’s a pity he won’t be around this weekend to make the most of this exciting new addition to our irregular weekly Power Grid face-off.
