Active Listening

I just thought I’d take the time to share with you all some things I’ve learned about active listening over the last few years: techniques to benefit more fluid communication with less scope for conflicts – and with the capability to help de-fuse arguments before they get out of control. I know that I’ve spoken with a lot of the people who read my weblog before about active listening and what it’s all about, but I’d still recommend reading this article, when you get the time. Why?

  • Firstly, while I know all of these principles and ideas, I’m not necessarily very good at executing them. You’ll get a far better overview of how to be a good listener (and communicator in general) by reading this than by debating it with me!
  • I’ve been thinking about what active listening is actually all about particularly much for the last few weeks, and I’ve got some new points. Go read.

What Is Active Listening

Active listening is a set of techniques for better listening to what another person is saying, and better expressing yourself to them in a way that they are likely to comprehend, using language that they are familiar with, and in a way that allows them to be comfortable with what is being discussed. It is widely used by therapists, counsellors, and helplines to help people be open and discuss whatever is bothering them in a way that makes them feel safe and unpressured, but it has wider value: the best team leaders, public speakers, mediators, diplomats, judges, hypnotists, “friendly ears”, consultants, journalists, attendees of any meeting whatsoever… parents!… in fact – anybody who needs to communicate with anybody else – exhibit characteristics of active listening as part of what they do. We say things like “you’re easy to talk to” to people who listen attentively and with whom we feel comfortable talking: and the techniques that people who are easy to talk to use all comes under the broad category of active listening.

Some people are naturally good listeners. You probably know a few of them. But that they are good listeners doesn’t necessarily have any bearing on the other elements of their personality: some good listeners are quiet and shy, while others are outgoing and confident. Some good listeners speak well on the telephone, while others prefer face-to-face contact. There are as many different kinds of listeners as there are different kinds of people.

On the other hand, most of us normal people need to study what it is that makes these “good listeners” special and practice it before we can become better at it. And that’s what this article is here to help you do.

How To Listen Actively

The following techniques are used by active listeners to facilitate better communication:

Rapport

It’s possible to take a huge leap forwards in your ability to communicate effectively by building rapport with the person or people you’re talking to. Rapport is all about a number of people having a mutual understanding as a medium over which to communicate their ideas: it’s about the subconscious assumptions that people make about your ability to appreciate their point of view based on the similarity of your physical and behavioural characteristics – tempered, of course, by their opinions.

So what does that all mean? Well; for a start, it means that people who perceive each other as being similar to one another typically communicate more comfortably with one another – no surprises there: I’m sure you’ll agree that most of the people you find it easiest to talk to are people who are on the same or similar level as you: in terms of factors like age, race, maturity, intelligence, accent, religion, level-headedness, and the distance they like to stand from you when you talk. Of course, the factors that influence your subconscious opinions of somebody will differ from mine and from those of everybody else in the universe; these are just sweeping examples of the kinds of things that people cite as reasons that they find communicating with certain people easier (or more difficult) than others.

And now comes the clever bit: you can improve your rapport with people by consciously making an effort to appear more like them – “getting along with them”. Start with your posture: if they slouch, slouch. If they stand upright, stand upright. If they lean on one arm, lean on one arm. Don’t be concerned about looking like you’re imitating them: it’s quite easy to make any movements quite subtle, and, if you watch a pair of good friends talking, you’ll see that they do these kinds of things instinctively. Try to find a distance that they are comfortable with – some people need more “space” between you, whereas others like to be quite close. If they like to make eye contact, make eye contact back, but if their eyes wander, look in the directions that they look in (but be sure not to have your eyes wandering too much, or it might look like you’re not paying attention to them). If they touch their face when they’re listening to you – touch yours when you’re listening to them. Through simple techniques like these you can easily make another person feel far more at ease talking to you than they otherwise would, and, as a result, facilitate friendly communication. Make sure, however, that your body language matches your tone of voice, or you’ll come across as a fake.

Some advanced rapport-building techniques, including both physical and verbal mirroring, and explored in a paper by John Clabby and Robert O’Connor [PDF]. Also consider reading about what causes friendship, which looks at psychological studies into things like the Ben Franklin effect (where you come to like people you help because “why would you have helped them if you didn’t like them?”).

Feedback

An extremely important part of active listening is feedback; providing evidence to the talker that you are understanding what they’re saying (if you are!) and that their concerns are important to you. Active listeners achieve this in several ways:

Attention

They actually do pay attention to what is being said! The single best way you can appear to be listening is to actually listen. It may help to make notes on what is being said – particularly in meetings or during telephone calls – or otherwise find a way to record your memories of the event: but if you do this, do not try to deliberately hide your thoughts from the talker. If, in a meeting, you take notes but prohibit others from seeing them, it feeds suspicion that you are hiding something or that you weren’t being as attentive as you claimed! In addition, fidgeting and “clock watching” detract enormously from the image of your “all ears” persona: don’t!

Encouragement

Encourage the person talking to continue for as long as they wish to. In face-to-face conversations involving small numbers of people and when using the telephone, this can be achieved through body language and non-verbal reinforcement alone. Nodding says “I understand”, eye contact says “I’m listening”, leaning closer says “I’m interested”, turning your eyes to the side and slightly downwards says “I’m interpreting what you’ve said” – we do all these things in our day-to-day lives, but an awareness of them can help us to better understand the signals they they give off. For example, turning your eyes upward, particularly if they also turn to the side, can indicate that you are letting your imagination drift: this may be fine depending on the topic of conversation, but if you’re supposed to have your feet on the ground with somebody who’s telling you something quite important, it can be quite distracting. Similarly, looking directly over somebody’s shoulder while they talk can make them feel quite uncomfortable (try it sometime in an extended conversation with somebody who won’t mind and watch them squirm).

Interest

Express an interest in what is being said by inviting the talker to say more: short phrases like “go on,” “I see,” and “tell me more,” correctly placed, can make a talker feel wanted… and can work wonders for the confidence of a speaker who is less comfortable with what they’re having to say. Ask questions that identify key areas that you’d like them to talk about, by asking, for example, “could you tell me more about X?” but remember to let them lead the direction of the conversation (that said, if they begin to repeat themselves, you can use questions like this to influence the conversation to take another direction, to allow them to explore a new area, or just to improve your understanding of an element of what they’re saying).

Summarising

Periodically, go back over old material in a shortened “summary” form. This aids retention, demonstrates that you were listening, and helps to clarify points. This is also useful for drawing a line under whatever has been said before, when the conversation’s about to take a new direction. For example, you could say “We’ve talked about X and Y, and we agreed that option 2 is the way forward: I’ll take a look this evening at the information on X so that we’ll be ready to carry on when we next meet. Now, shall we talk about the issue of Z?”

Sometimes, you and the other person or people may disagree on a summary that you’ve made: if so, apologise and ask them to explain the way that they understand it. The summary may be the last chance you have to formalise what you’ve talked about, so it’s important to get it right (particularly if you’re in a meeting scenario and incorrect information may otherwise be recorded where it could lead to future arguments).

Summarising provides a great opportunity for a break, too: having called an end to the last topic of conversation and agreed on what the results were, you’re able to come at the next topic (or addendum) with a fresh mind.

Language

Arguably part of your rapport with the other person, language is of such significant importance that it warrants a section of it’s own. The choice of words you use when communicating with somebody is of comparable relevance as the semantics (what you’re actually getting across). Major factors which affect the language a speaker will use include:

Languages spoken

A conversation where the shared language is not the first language of one of the speakers may necessitate a different choice of words to that which would be used when speaking to somebody who’s native tongue it would be. Outside of their first language, speakers will often favour shorter, simpler words, and may try to explain detailed concepts rather than try to determine the correct phrase to use. They are also more likely to use gestures to expand on their points than they are words, and – in the absence of these gestures (for example, on the telephone) – they may have difficulty making their meaning clear. When dealing with somebody for whom you do not speak their native language, be ready to reuse their words (which they have demonstrated a familiarity with) and apply them to your points. Speak at a rate comparable with the rate at which they speak, and, if they seem to be having difficulty, offer to speak more slowly or to , repeat, or rephrase yourself.

Background

Even where the language is the same, the words used in a conversation are heavily influenced by the background and upbringing of the speakers. Level of education, proficiency in a given topic, a desire to impress, confidence, and many other factors can influence the way that a speaker will talk. Be aware of the difference between the words and phrases you use and those used by them, and work to bridge the gaps by speaking in a manner that will be understood by them as well as by you.

This has to be done carefully, though – don’t be seen to “speak down” to somebody – watch for the warning signs: irritability and impatience with the speed at which you are progressing. Conversely, don’t try to bluff your way through a topic you don’t understand – if you don’t know what the speaker is talking about, ask!

“Temperature”

A major factor that influences the languages used in a conversation is known as temperature. Temperature is an unquantifiable measurement of the tension of the parties engaged in a conversation. If temperature becomes too high, it can lead to an argument, an abrupt end to the conversation, hostility, uncooperative behaviour, and violence. But sometimes – rarely – too low a temperature can prove problematic, too – causing stagnation in the conversation and damaging the impetus of the speaker to drive on into a controversial or personal topic.

Things that raise the temperature of a conversation include:

  • Bad rapport
  • Anxiety and stress
  • Personal questions or embarrassing subjects
  • Feeling that what you say will incite negative opinions or reactions from the listener(s)
  • Difficulty in understanding the conversation
  • Excessive repetition
  • Pressure to answer questions
  • Judgemental questions (e.g. “Was it you that stole the cake?”)
  • Perceived threats
  • Condescending behaviour
  • Alcohol, caffeine, and many other drugs
  • Lying, by either party
  • Conflict of opinion or intention

Suggestions for lowering temperature:

  • Improve rapport! Get “on the level” with the other person.
  • Make longer pauses between saying things, particularly asking questions, allowing the other person time to compose themselves.
  • Take a break for a few minutes.
  • Change the topic (either temporarily or permanently – however, be aware that returning to the topic might result in an even higher temperature if not approached delicately). Sometimes, this can be the only solution to a runaway temperature situation.
  • Remain calm. Calm behaviour encourages calm behaviour: however, read incorrectly, calm behaviour can seem threatening.
  • Respect the other person’s position and their right to have their views and their feelings.
  • Ask only one question at a time.
  • If your actions have contributed to the raised temperature, it’s okay to acknowledge this and apologise for it – but don’t expect the other person to.
  • If the other person agrees, consider inviting in a third party as a mediator.
  • Backtrack – re-affirm what you are jointly trying to achieve, and go over the summaries made so far: if necessary, try to approach the “hot” topic from a different angle, or try to agree first on the cause of the temperature increase – it’s possible that there has been a misunderstanding.
  • Answer unanswered questions which are causing temperature increases – however, ensure that you have all the information you need to rationally answer any question: in a high-temperature environment, it can be difficult to consider the options fully. If you need it, ask for more time to consider the question.
  • Try to reach a compromise – don’t put your individual goals higher than solving the temperature problem.

High temperatures are dangerously counterproductive. Almost always it’s beneficial first to tackle the temperature, and then the goal at hand, as decisions made in a high temperature environment are more likely than not going to satisfy all of the parties involved.

At times, people will try to deliberately raise the temperature: this is done, for example, by “hard sell” salespeople, trying to trick you into making a quick decision, interviewers trying to test your capability to work under stress, or anybody for whom it would be more personally beneficial to catch you out and put you under pressure to answer their questions without having had a chance to properly consider them. Treat these the same as any other high-temperature situation: remain calm and take your time in handling them, and be aware of ways of improving rapport and reducing the temperature. Remember: outside of a genuine emergency (when snap decisions are extremely important), there is rarely ever a need for temperature to be increased – and there should never be a need to cause temperature to spiral out-of-control.

Asking Questions

There’s been a lot written about how to ask questions as part of active listening technique, because it’s a big topic with a lot of scope for debate. Let’s begin by looking at some different types of questions that you’ll come across. The linguists among you will immediately notice that not all of the example questions are, strictly speaking, questions: however, they are sentences which invite comment (in the way that “tell me about…” sentences do, despite not being questions), and in the context of active listening, these can be just as good and sometimes better.

  • Closed questions are questions which can easily be answered with a simple, single word (or short) answer – typically a yes or a no. Some examples would be, “Did you go to the shops today?”, “Are you enjoying this article?” and “What is the capital of France?” Closed questions are short and functional and great for getting answers, but they’re almost useless for active listening. For a start, they don’t provide any encouragement for the person answering the question to speak: if a one-word answer will suffice, then a less-than talkative person will give (at most) a one-word answer. Secondly, they can easily be read (or misread) as being accusational, even when they’re not: suppose I had asked you this morning to go to the shops for me, and then this evening I asked “Did you go to the shops today?” – this innocent-looking suddenly becomes more than a question; it becomes an accusation. With closed questions, care must also be taken when using negative terms (e.g. didn’t, won’t, etc.) – “Didn’t you go to the shops today?” is, taken literally, the same question as before, but the negative tone implies that the person it’s directed at should have gone to the shops: more accusation. People who’s dialects give them a tendency to use negatives as a start to questions in this manner should be particularly careful when using active listening skills to speak to people who don’t, as they can easily come across as overly hostile. Avoid closed questions where possible.
  • Open questions are a better option for most active listening exercises. An open question is one which can not be answered with a simple one-word answer, and for which a pause after a short answer would justify further comment on the part of the person answering. Examples of open questions include, “What happened at the shops?”, “How are you finding this article?” and “Tell me what you know about France.” Open questions are wonderful tools to help people feel that they can talk to you, and are an excellent way of getting information from people. An open question can take time to answer fully, so make sure that the person you’re talking to has all the time they need, and give them a few seconds after they speak to decide if they want to continue before you say something else.
  • “Why” questions deserve a category of their own. A question frequently asked while resolving conflicts is a “why” question – “Why did you go to the shops?”, “What made you decide to read this article?” (a “why” question in disguise), and “Why are you interested in France?” “Why” questions almost always appear on the surface to be open questions, but take care – they can easily appear as accusing (and as assuming) as a closed question, if not carefully worded.

When asking questions of somebody, try to give them a fair amount of time to respond. The amount of time given should be increased for tougher questions, for higher temperature debates (“thinking time” reduces temperature), and for stress-inducing topics or personal issues. The period of time you should wait for a response to begin to an open question should be such that it almost becomes uncomfortable to wait. Of course, active listening is a reactive approach to communication, and it’s more important still that you make the other person feel comfortable: try to (non-verbally) reach a compromise whereby they are given all the time they need in which to compose an answer, but are not given so long that they feel uncomfortable with giving it. Watch for signs of “holding back” an answer to a question: signs like taking a breath but then not saying anything, “catching words”, eyes wandering upwards, fidgeting, and repeating particular phrases that they’ve demonstrated they feel “safe” saying, rather than exploring new territory – these can, in many speakers, be signs that they have more to say but that they are consciously resisting saying them. Perhaps you need to give them more time, or talk about something else for awhile, or just find a better way of approaching the subject. Perhaps they don’t intend to answer your question fully at all. Or perhaps you mis-read them. In any case: patience, open questions, and a tolerant attitude to their responses is the way forwards.

Beware of asking several questions at once (for example, “Where did you go for your holidays? Somewhere nice?”): people, particularly when they are anxious or in a high-temperature environment, can react badly to chained questions like these – usually by becoming confused… which question was I supposed to answer again?

Empathy

Another element of active listening is empathy (in fact, some people call it “empathetic listening”). In the context of listening, empathy is about being able to recognise, understand, and accept and the thoughts and particularly the feelings exhibited by another person. It is not to be confused with sympathy, which is a feeling of compassion for somebody else and wanting to see them better or happier than they are (sometimes described as “feeling sorry” for somebody). The difference can be hard to see at first, and the reasons for it even harder. The principle behind empathy in active listening is that you must be able to recognise the views of the other person for what they are so that you can appreciate their position and understand them, and you must do this before you can accept what they want and what they feel as being entirely valid for their current state. Sympathy, while productive and not without it’s place, is not welcome within active listening as it encourages a condescending attitude towards the speaker and does not help the listener “get into their shoes”.

How To Be Empathetic

Being empathetic does not mean that you have to agree with everything the speaker stands for (although it is likely to make it easier to empathise with them if you do) and it does not mean that they “win” any argument: what it means is that you don’t dismiss anything that the speaker says, or give anything any less value than the speaker gives it. Some examples of failure to empathise would be:

  • To somebody who’s just split up with their partner, “There’s plenty more fish in the sea.” To say this is to belittle the feelings that they have about the breakup of their relationship as something that will go away with time. Whether or not this is true is not your place to judge, active listening teaches.
  • Saying “don’t worry about that,” to anything that a speaker is worried about is an example of a failure to empathise, because it implies that the thing they’re worrying about is worth less than they’re making of it. Empathy is about trying to appreciate the importance of the worrying thing to the speaker, and accepting that worry as valid (even if you think it’s not).
  • Changing the topic to one you feel is more important than the one the person or people you’re speaking to is trying to talk about. This demonstrates a lack of concern for their feelings, putting yours on a higher pedestal.

How You’ll Know You’re Doing It Right

You’ll know you’re doing it right, first and foremost, because:

  • You’ll be communicating with the person you’re speaking to “on the level”, regardless of your or their position of authority.
  • You won’t impose your ideas or your solutions, unless you’re asked for them – and even then, you’ll ask what the speaker thinks they should do, first.
  • You’ll try to hear the whole story before passing comment on it.
  • You won’t express shock, horror, alarm, or disgust at anything you’re told, because – as much as it may disturb you, they’re not your experiences and they’re not your feelings and so you have no right to judge them.
  • You’ll be asking questions to try to help you understand the other person’s position, not so as to glean some part of the information that they’re giving you in order to help yourself.
  • You’ll be tired after the conversation because listening empathetically is surprisingly difficult.

And secondly, you’ll know you’re doing it right because people will feel comfortable talking to you and will say things to you where they wouldn’t normally feel comfortable doing so.

Thirdly, and this is where you’ll really notice that you’ve made an impact: the people you have communicated with in an empathetic way will go on and treat others in a more open, accepting manner (without necessarily even consciously knowing why they are doing so), as a result of the way that you have treated them.

Things To Be Wary Of

Here’s a few general things to watch out for when you’re listening to people:

  • Assume nothing – don’t assume that you understand the other person or can appreciate what they’re feeling, or that you are in any position to help them (you might be, but that’s up to them to decide, not you).
  • Ask first, advise later – before you dispense advice, ask the person what they think they should do, and talk though their options. If they solve the problem themselves, they’ll not only get what is definitely the right answer for them, they’ll also boost their self-confidence.
  • Make every effort not to misinterpret, or be misinterpreted – summarise the conversation so far, and the whole conversation at the end, regularly, especially if the temperature is high (if the temperature gets high enough, people will frequently make deliberate subconscious misinterpretations of each other’s opinion, as part of the brain’s self-defence mechanism). Also, be aware that when two parties are feeling hostile to one another, there is a tendency for them to automatically assume that the other is planning something underhanded, even if they’re not.
  • Beware of cultural and language barriers – discussing important points where cultural traditions (or translation difficulties) get in the way can lead to misinterpretation, raised temperature, and difficulties in understanding.
  • Ensure that communication is possible – over longer communications – for example, a series of meetings or an extended number of phone calls – ensure that there is always a way to establish communication by either party with the other, and that both feel comfortable doing so. This will help to ensure that there is a way to resolve any conflicts that occur outside of meeting hours.
  • Actually listen – breaks in the conversation are for the person who was asked the question to think of their answer, not for the person who asked it to start thinking of their possible next lines. If you have difficulty with this, try to distract yourself with watching the way that the other person is behaving and trying to understand how they are thinking.
  • Don’t lie – unless it is impossible to evade the question; don’t evade the question if it is possible to answer it. And if you must evade the question, try to explain why you are doing so. Honesty, particularly in business communications, builds trust and aids future empathy.
  • Don’t raise the temperature – keep your cool, and show the other person how to keep theirs. There are some great resources in books and on the internet on the subject of calming people down: if you frequently find yourself communicating in high-temperature situations, they’re well worth a read. I particularly like the ones involving establishing rapport and then leading by example (by, for example, encouraging the other person to become more calm by initially acting like them and then slowly becoming more calm yourself).
  • Crisis control – if you’re looking into using active listening as part of crisis control, read this guide to crisis communication: it talks about ways to communicate effectively in a crisis, and maintain calm, collected listening skills even when time is short. There’s also a wonderful article on rumour control.

Further Reading

Closing Words

Well; that’s pretty much the sum of my knowledge about active listening, all nicely bundled together in one place for the world to read and benefit from. I first started writing this document after an argument where I realised I’d done an awful job of all of these things (and, in my opinion, so had the other person involved) and I wanted to write myself a reminder… and share with the world some ideas I’d wanted to for awhile. Hopefully you’ll read this, go off, and communicate better with your friends and workmates, be a better listener, and make yourself and other people happier as a result.

Active listening can’t be learned from a web page. You have to go and try it out. Go talk to somebody, and actually listen to what they say – and encourage them to say more. Find out what their opinions and feelings are, and try to appreciate them from their perspective, even if you don’t agree with them. Good luck.

Feedback appreciated. If you can’t get the comments form to work, send e-mail to active spam listening at scatmania spam dot org (remove the word ‘spam’ and the spaces and put @ sign and . where indicated).

This Will Make You Laugh

This is a repost promoting content originally published elsewhere. See more things Dan's reposted.

This repost was published in hindsight, on 18 March 2019.

Matt R wrote:

Well it would have were you there. I hope.

Sunday came and went and left me with the greatest buzz I think I’ve ever felt. I’m loving this comedy lark. I was terrified of the performance right up until the end of my first set and then I started to relax into it. Things started to fit and I let my material flow more than I probably should have in that I abandoned what I’d worked out of my script and left much of it up to the audience. It certainly paid off that night because the audience were spectacular. They deserve the most credit for the night as they came along wanting to laugh but best of all was their forgiveness. They would sit listening with the attitude “OK, that didn’t make me luagh but maybe the next one will”. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen that sort of generosity from an audience before.

The performances went well and Dave was better than I thought he would be (don’t misread me, I thought he was going to do well and he did marvellously). He’d rehersed his stuff well and thought it through and the closest I can come to a criticism was when he talked through the laughter, but that has to be balanced against his angry man ‘character’ and starting and stopping that can remind the audience that they’re watching a rehersed, rather than spontaneous, performance. Absolute Kudos to the man for not being phased by a joke that didn’t go as well as he’d hoped. I think it’s still got potential if it has a bit more set-up and is moved a little later in the set so the audience is more in tune with his character.

The ‘winner’ of the night was Adrian O’Toole who really was very good. He kept the audience laughing with his festival experiences and paused in the right places, had his call-backs to earlier jokes, spoke to the crowds experiences, called in his own without alienating them. He was very very good, especially considering he had only got up as part of a Gorman/Wallace style challenge system. You phone the man, set him a challenge and he’ll try it. When we told him afterwards that he was kind of expected to perform at the next comedy night he was very despondent. “But I’ve had twenty years to come up with this material” and that was exactly how I felt after my first show. I didn’t know how I’d ever be able to come up with anything else. I hope he carries on trying because he was a delight to watch.

Big shout out to Scatman Dan who’s review and expansion on what other people had done was fresh and exciting, definitely the sort of thing that we’ve been looking for — anything that goes against normal comedy boundries and pushes things in a new direction. Refering to other comics in your act is at least tabboo and at worst shunned and disparaged. I see both sides of the argument but if it’s done in a respectful manner I don’t see too much of a problem with it. If it’s not… well… I think that anyone who would do it without being respectful should be condemned to a red coat forever. Dan, of course, was nothing but respectful and I’d like to see him back, especially with some of (forgive the expression and please take no inference from it) his own stuff. I especially liked his explanation of the second war in Iraq.

There was a guy videoing it and I’ll let you know how that turns out. I really want to see it to find out where I went wrong (getting more and more Ducth Couraged on stage may have been one of them) and what bits worked better than I thought. Don’t worry Mum, I’ll send you a copy too.

Not quite finally I’ll be performing again (possibly MCing) at Yr Undeb on Tuesday. No, this is not the professional comedy nights that Steve-o runs but it is for RAG week and so please come along to support a well deserving charity case… and RAG! BOOM BOOM! No. There’ll be about five of us doing comedy and I really don’t know much about what else is going on that night but it should be good, and if not at least it’s for a good cause.

Finally I’m quite worried that I’m only funny when playing to a small crowd of Aberystwyth students who, if they don’t know me, at least know of me.

Open Mic Night

As I’d promised, I went along to the Ground Zero open mic night at The Angel tonight – and it was a most spectacular night. Matt was MC, and did a wonderful series of gags and skits to liven up the crowd and fill the gaps between the performers. Unusually, all the acts were of an extremely high quality – a lot of good material from a lot of different people, delivered well. Particularly worthy of mention was Adrian O’Toole, who performed during the second act a fantastic piece of comedy, having been charged with doing so as part of an ongoing dare/challenge with some friends. Apparently, he’s joining… pretty much any society that’ll have him, “doing it all”, or some such thing, and part of this included doing open mic comedy. By the end of the night, he’d been signed up to be in a Christian indie band, despite not having the appropriate qualifications in either religion or music. We’re going to invite him to Troma Night. Even if standing in front of several dozen people and telling jokes didn’t break him, the traditions of our weekly film night might.

And so – infused with beer and impressed by the atmosphere – I put my name down on the board for the second act. And it went remarkably well: as well as could possibly be expected considering that I’ve never done open mic before, that I hadn’t planned to do it tonight by more than half an hour, etc. Rather than try to compose some humour within the few minutes available I opted to instead advance upon the acts of some of the people I’d seen so far: Matt had talked about the quirks of Aberystwyth; “Magic Ian” (hmm… Supergran reference, Claire and I wonder?) discussed The Crystal Maze… etc. etc… and so I took a little from each and added my piece. It was sloppy because it was unprepared, but for an improvisational spot it worked wonderfully and I was glad to see that the crowd mopped it up. I’d have liked to have ended on a better laugh, but all-in-all it was great… I’d do it again (albeit with a little more preparation).

The funniest moment of the night for me, however, happened not on stage but in the toilets. I’d just gone to the gents in between the second and third acts, and had just finished washing my hands when another attendee came in. He looked at me and recognised me as somebody he’d seen on stage earlier, muttered a congratulatory message, and went to shake my hand. I took his hand with mine, which I then realised was still warm and damp from the sink. “Sorry,” I said, as a look of repulsion spread across his face, “I pissed on my hand.” His face was priceless.

In other news, Adam linked to what is perhaps the funniest thing I’ve seen online in a long time: If you read his blog you’ll have seen it already, but who cares – watch it again: Ultimate Showdown!

Further reading:

The Knights Of Gaerog

Chapter I: The Knights Of Gaerog

Once upon a time, long ago, there was a large and sprawling kingdom with a great number of citizens, spread across a country of rolling hills and open flatland: the kingdom of Academia. The kingdom of Academia, which had for a long time been untroubled by war or famine, dedicated a large proportion of it’s time to study, learning, and self-advancement. It was surrounded on all sides by a larger republic with whom there was much trade, and who protected them from invaders. The two shared a currency, and a common tongue – most of the time – and only occasionally disagreed, usually on the value of a good education, which the kingdom of Academia prized, but the surrounding republic did not.

Academia was broken up into many small fiefdoms which were each ruled by a baron. The baron would frequently compete with other barons on matters of the education provided to their peasants, but this was not the only service the benevolent barons would provide. Most would also provide a church building – on the land of the fiefdom – and allow the people to ordain a bishop, who would ensure the spiritual happiness of the people. The church provided a place for people to relax after a hard day’s toil, and would represent them in matters concerning the baron. The bishop and his chaplains would attempt to support the people, where they could, and would also organise and fund number of diversionary activities and sports for the peons to participate in.

In the fiefdom of Gaerog, like many others, there resided an order of knights. The Order of the Knights of Gaerog were a spiritual organisation who drew money from the church to fund their activities. In these times of peace, there was never a need for the knights to fight, but instead they spent their time helping the people of the land deal with their day to day problems. They worked with the people, and alongside the people, and stood up to their ideals of helping people to solve their own problems, and to their nebulous seven “Knightly Virtues” – the principles of their knighthood.

The knights put a great deal of effort into making sure that the people of the land were content: providing a listening ear onto which they could offload their troubles and woes, a sounding post against which they could bounce ideas, and well-researched information about how best to make use of the resources of the land.

Despite their spiritual nature and their shared dedication to the happiness of the populace, a somewhat rocky relationship had evolved between them and the church had over the last two dozen years. On several evenings, tucked into the quiet of the knights’ lodge, the chaplains had asked the knights to share with them who they had helped today, or even what problems they had helped people with. The knights had always felt that to tell the church such information would be unfair on the people they had helped, and would violate the sacred principles of their order. However, things came to pass that with each new bishop there began a new period of both change and stagnation in the church, and by and by, things made their way onwards into the history books. The people of the land were a travelling folk, and few of them stayed in the same place for long, and within a given half dozen years the entire population could appear different to the one that preceded it, so nobody really noticed the long-term difficulties that any given bishop could be bringing about.

Chapter II: The Bishop’s Dilemma

One day, the baron of Gaerog got into a particularly vicious squabble with a neighbouring baron. The details are unimportant, but the result was that the baron of Gaerog decided to prove the value of his territory to the whole kingdom. From the king’s castle in the centre of Academia were despatched lawyers, tax collectors, census-takers, and an executioner: to perform a census on Gaerog and report back to the king of it’s value, so that the kingdom might know of it’s greatness once and for all. The baron spoke to the bishop, saying, “Be sure that thy ducks are in a line, aye, for verily, we art all beset to be right fucked if thou dost not.”

And the bishop was scared. Having been newly ordained less than a whole change of the moon ago, he did not want to anger the baron by failing the census-taker’s tests. He knew that they would exact great punishment upon those who could not account for everything that their organisation had done, and how, and so he looked to the chaplains to aid him. “Turn thy eye to those things for which thee appear responsible,” they advised, “But which thou cannot control.”

The bishop did this, scanning his ledgers and his records to find any things that might alert the attention of the king’s census-takers. The thing that worried him the most was the Knights of Gaerog, who had for a long time been financed and supported by the church, but would not provide any evidence of their good deeds. Even their indoctrination program – through which budding squires earned their white belts and golden spurs – was shrouded in mystery and steeped in tradition, and the bishop had to admit he knew little about the knights activities and nothing about their numbers (when not serving, the knights would dress as commoners and mingle with the people, unseen). How could the bishop vouch for the services the knights provided without even being able to prove that those services were justified? How could the bishop claim that his affairs were under control when he did not even know what these knights were doing?

Knowing that the church had to distance itself as far as possible from the knights before the king’s men came to assess them, the bishop acted quickly: and, perhaps, a little rashly. A message was sent to the Order, demanding that they disband… or risk excommunication from the church. This took the knights by surprise, and they were confused. They scrambled to gather as many of their number together as they could, and also called upon the help of their old friend, the wizard. The wizard had been a knight for many years, long ago, and still kept a watchful eye over – and a respectful distance from – the Order, observing from afar from his tip of his tower. The knights, accompanied by the wizard, and other allies of their order, banged against the door of the church and demanded an audience with the bishop. Eventually their calls were answered, and the bishop – along with one of his chaplains – met with seven of the knights and the wizard.

“What is this trickery?” demanded a knight who had been elected to this purpose. The other knights looked nervous. “For what purpose do you seek to end our good deeds.”

“This is what must be done! Thou hast ne’er provided us with even an inkling of faith that thou canst fulfil thy claims! Thy goals, thy training, and thy results – they’re all a mystery to us, and we must have such information if we are to allow you to continue your work,” replied the bishop.

“Then perhaps betwixt our argumentative tongues we can find room for some compromise. For too long have we been distrustful of one another. Now may be our chance to forge an alliance anew: mayhap we can provide you with the information you need, if you let us know what needs to be fulfilled. We can let you know about how our order works, and tell you, in general, how many people we have aided in in what way aid can be given. But in exchange, we would need thy word that we can continue our work in helping the people of this land.”

The two – knight and bishop – stopped their conversational manoeuvrers and counter-manoeuvrers, and, sensing the approaching stalemate, began to talk frankly.

“Mayhap we may build a new bridge from this point,” the bishop said, eventually. “Within the week we shall provide you with a list that shall detail the terms of such an agreement. We will tell you what oaths we would need from you, and we shall see if a compromise can be reached.” And both the men of cloth and the men of the sword left that table smiling. And the men of learning carried on as they always had, working under the sun as the shadows grew longer and climbed the hill towards the knights’ lodge.

Chapter III: Anger And Injustice

A week passed, and still no word had been heard from the bishop and the church. The wizard used his scrying ball to espy the bishop, and saw that he was extremely busy. The knights heard of how busy the bishop had been, ensuring that everything else was ready for the imminent arrival of the king’s men, but they were still concerned that they had not yet been written to. Some of the knights began to worry that their trust in the bishop may have been misplaced, while others argued that it was exactly this attitude that had brought about the breakdown in trust between the Order and the Church in the first instance.

Eventually, the day came that a message was delivered from the bishop to the knights. The knights were anxious: if the proposal did not comply with their seven virtues, they could not possibly accept it, and would have to argue against it. But such an argument may end in disaster: being able to find agreement in this proposal might be their only chance to continue their great work.

As they unwrapped the scroll, the hearts of the knights and the wizard sank. This was not the proposal that they had expected, at all. There were no requests for information, no demands on conduct, no new oaths of fealty to the church… nothing of the sort: nothing close to what the knights had prepared themselves for.

The scroll read:

“It is proposed, with immediate effect, that the Order of the Knights of Gaerog be immediately disbanded and disassociated with the Church. All of the knights are asked to turn in their belt and spurs and to instead report to Sam, the charitable nobleman in the Gaerog town centre. Sam will allow you to continue doing work to help the people of Academia, and also people from elsewhere.”

“We can’t work for Sam,” said one knight, upon reading this, “The work we’ve done as knights of the line is not even remotely comparable to the charity that Sam provides!”

“That’s true,” said the wizard, “The service the knights provide is quite unique and quite special. There is nothing that can replace it. But the bigger question remains: do we carry on and fight – and risk losing everything – living as outlaws in order to continue to help the people in the way that we know is best… or do we give up, now, and do what we can to make Sams work provide the best it can for the people who they can.”

And the wizard looked across the faces of the knights, and saw that whatever decision was made, there would be those that would object. If the knights disbanded and worked with the noble Sam and the bishop towards helping people as best they could, they would at least be guaranteed the chance to help those who needed it. But if they fought on, risking all, and won, they may yet be able to once again give everything they could to the people around them – but if they lost, they would have lost any chance of providing aid to the people of Gaerog. Yes, he thought, there would be those that would object to – and perhaps even those that would split off, and go their own way, in protest – the decision made. Which decision was best? Many knights thought they knew, but not all agreed.

As for the wizard; he promised to support the knights who comprised the democratic majority, whatever decision they made.

And he promised to support the knights in the minority, too.

To be continued…

Paul Is The Most Fucking Random Person In The World

Paul M: fucking nutter. The most random person you’re ever likely to meet. But you’ve got to love his sincerity.

This morning, I’m happily sat at my workstation, staring, as I do, at program code and pausing from time to time to check the RSS feeds of the usual crew, when the phone rings: Matt answers it; it’s Technium reception – they’ve got a parcel for us. Ooh; that’s exciting, but Matt’s deeply involved in some code so I offer to go and collect it. The arrangement here among us lazy folks is that the receptionist puts the parcel in the lift, and one of us toddles along the corridor and takes it out of the lift on this floor.

I stood outside the lift and listened as it came up to the first floor. The door opened, and I lifted out the parcel… and that’s when I noticed the first strange thing: the parcel was addressed to me, personally (which is very unusual) and the address was written entirely in marker pen (rather than being a printed label, as most goods delivered to us here are). I’m not expecting anything; least of all at work: I never give my work address to anybody. Who could have sent this?

I opened it and laughed out loud. It took just a second to realise what was going on, as I recalled a conversation in the RockMonkey ChatRoom yesterday lunchtime…

[11:38] * Ava_Work goes to nuke food
[11:38] <Ava_Work> Hmm… spaghetti hoops on toast for me, methinks…
[11:39] <Pacifist_049> You’re microwaving spaghetti hoops?
[11:41] <Ava_Work> Yup.
[11:41] <Ava_Work> Why?
[11:41] <Pacifist_049> Philistine
[11:41] <Ava_Work> So…
[11:41] <Ava_Work> …how else can I do it?
[11:41] <Ava_Work> And think carefully now…
[11:41] <Pacifist_049> Pan
[11:41] <Ava_Work> A pan. Which I don’t have. But let’s pretend I did. How would I heat it?
[11:41] <Pacifist_049> I know you don’t have a cooker at work, but that’s not the issue here. It’s the principle, damnit!
[11:42] <Ava_Work> So; as it pisses YOU off so much, feel free to bring me a pan and a cooker. Then I’ll do it your way, which is – in the end – preferable.
[11:42] <Ava_Work> However, it doesn’t piss ME off enough that I’ll go hungry rather than nuke spaghetti hoops.

Parcel containing a loaf of bread, a tin of spaghetti hoops, a pan, wooden spoon, and an electric hob. Close-up on the beans pan, and wooden spoon.
Click on images for larger versions.

The parcel, as shown above, contains a pan, wooden spoon, loaf of bread, tin of spaghetti hoops, and a strangely familiar electric hob.

Which is a fab gesture, although if I use it for my lunch today I’ll have to do so on the sly, on account of the fact that the Technium facilities manager is in today and this particular piece of electrical equipment has not been electrically safety-tested.

Electrical safety test sticker.

What the fuck. Thank you, Paul!

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Tsunami Relief Concert

On Saturday night, Claire and I went to the Tsunami Relief concert at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff, which was pretty fab. We arrived at about 3:15pm, just as things were starting to kick off – on one of the many park and ride services being operated especially for the event. The buses and their fuel were both donated for the evening, and the bus drivers were working as volunteers (but taking donations towards the fund in tubs at the door). We had some confusion over the gate we needed to enter by, which only increased our relief at getting in out of the driving rain. It wasn’t much warmer inside, but huddling with a crowd pushing their way towards the stage quickly warmed us up. The Millennium Stadium is huge. It’s amazing to wander down onto the floor, with tens of thousands of people looking back across it.

The concert was really good – a lot of acts I’d looked forward to seeing: the Manic Street Preachers, Feeder, Eric Clapton and Keane were all fantastic. But between these were a lot of other acts which were surprisingly good – Katherine Jenkins, who performed first, was absolutely wonderful: her rendition of “Amazing Grace” brought tears to my eyes. Lulu was wonderful, Kelly Jones of the Stereophonics was just stunning… even Craig David was more than tolerable as he performed a slow and easy acoustic set. And polishing it off with Jools Holland’s Ryhthm & Blues Orchestra and Eric Clapton jamming away together made a great finish to the evening.

We were both exhausted from about 11 hours on our feet, but it was a great show well-worth seeing. I pity those of you who tried to get tickets but were too late – you missed out.

Sadly, we both lost a point on Bryn’s Challenge – disallowed as we were from taking food or drink into the stadium, we had to resort to the fast food available on-site. We settled for merely having a hot dog each, while the folks we watched on the Troma Night webcam tucked into their pizza, but it’s still disappointing that we had to do so. Ah well.

We got back into Aber at about 3am: Claire took a lie-in on Sunday morning after a sterling driving effort (albeit less of a “sterling driving effort” than when she drove to Stirling, but hey).

A Merry Little Christmas

All in all, that was a fantastic little Christmas Day – less disasters, fights, fires or cats-eating-decorations than a typical Christmas with my family, but no less fun for it.

Our landlords, who run the cafe below our flat, were kind enough to lend us use of their kitchen over the festive period (mmm… catering-grade cooking gear…), which actually enabled us to meaningfully cook a Christmas dinner – just trying to fit a joint of turkey into our (borrowed]) mini oven, here, would have been a joke, never mind the stuffing, potatoes, parsnips, and pigs in blankets (which I’ll demonstrate to Paul is a British colloquialism, not an American one, as he claimed yesterday)! The three of us – Paul, Claire and I, managed to finish all of the sherry while preparing food, and began on the strawberry wine not long thereafter… a very drunk Christmas was had by all.

Gifts were exchanged… Claire’s been spending a good deal of time playing with her new concertina and has taken a ten-minute degree. I’ve been learning how to deal with a zombie invasion and discovering the 50 crappest towns in the UK (impressively, Preston comes in at number 30 – more crap than both Bedford and Croydon). On other gift-related notes, it looks like the pair of us are going to be particularly busy next June – with Claire’s birthday on the 16th, an REM concert in Manchester (40th crappest) on the 17th, then a Green Day concert in Milton Keynes (35th crappest) on the 18th. Non-interesting factoid: I’ve just noticed that both Green Day and The Goo Goo Dolls use Slender Fungus as their web designers for their official sites.

Oh; and a special thanks to Kit and Fiona, up in Scotland – also spending their first respective Christmases “away from home” for the home-made soaps, which we’re trying to identify (mostly by smell) now. By our reckoning, mine’s mint, Claire’s is poppy-seed, and Paul’s is lime. Lucky guess?

So; despite the fact that we made enough food to be a feast for six, which made the three of us very full, and that Claire got horribly drunk on wine in the evening and didn’t even survive the entirety of our special Troma Night Christmas Edition, it was still a great day. And better yet, I’ve just noticed that there’s one caramel bell left hanging on the tree… mmm… breakfast…

A Great Wedding Was Had By All

Bryn, Paul, Claire and I went to Kit and Fiona‘s wedding this weekend. Despite the hideously long drive (almost 11 hours, with driver/navigator pairs driving and sleeping in shifts in order to maintain progress) throughout Friday night – and the equally long journey back on Sunday, it was a most fantastic and memorable experience.

The event took place in Aberlour and Knockando, which is pretty much as far North as you can get in the United Kingdom and still recognise people as being human. It’s actually only about 50 miles from Inverness, where I was born, set in a beautiful string of valleys North of the Grampian mountains.

The service was great – despite a few early setbacks (such as the bride arriving and wondering where the groom was… he hadn’t run away, it turns out, but was with the best man and the reverend, sorting out some of the mandatory paperwork…) – the Knockando church is built in the style of the 700-year old one that stood there until six years ago, when it burnt to the ground. Fiona looked fantastic, everybody sang along to silly Christian verse, Steve didn’t lose the rings, and nobody fluffed their wedding vows. That said, when the vicar who was officiating the ceremony asked Fiona to repeat, “And I promise this in the name of God, the father, the son, and the holy ghost,” she looked shocked for a moment – having just forgotten the first bit – and said, “Umm… help?” to request that he prompted her again. Which was sweet, in it’s own special way.

The reception was held at a lovely hotel in Aberlour – The Dowans Hotel – which, to the joy of Bryn and I – hosted an impressive 80 different varieties of whiskey, including treats like Oban, McAllans, and the very palatable locally-distilled Aberlour. The area is deep in whiskey country and Bryn and I had tried earlier in the day to visit one of the distilleries, without success (seemed to be closed for the winter, despite signs to the contrary, so we instead went and bought four kilos of shortbread, which will keep Paul happy for some time). Kit’s speech – which, as is traditional, spoke of how he and Fiona met – was particularly touching, describing the fascinating story of how they came together, and gave thanks to the project I did for my dissertation, which was in fact what Kit was giving a presentation on (in my absence) when they first met! Steve – the best man – also delivered a good speech: fighting against a moderately-obvious fear of talking to an entire room at once in order to take apart some of Kit’s more obvious flaws, such as his ability to get lose even given a map (he later gave them very carefully-delivered and well-described directions to their honeymoon venue, perhaps just to rub it in).

We ate a great meal, and then took part in several traditional highland dances – embarrassingly, all alien to me, but we soon discovered that the best approach was simply to ask a local to join you in a dance, and you’d soon understand what was going on… or fall over trying. Bryn, in particular, seemed to enjoy dancing with several pretty Scottish lasses, and was actually really quite good (lesson of the day: despite his protests, Bryn is actually a good dancer!). Between the alcohol, the company, and the dancing, Bryn seemed to have a fantastic time – I’ve not seen him quite so happy in many months! Restricted by tight-fitting trousers (I really should have gotten myself a kilt in the Huntley tartan before the wedding) I did a little less well, but still really enjoyed drinking myself silly then whirling around with random party guests.

Kit and Fiona left for their honeymoon in the northern isles (the mad fools!) in style, sent off by a cheer from the hotel courtyard and with tin cans trailing behind their car, and – a few drinks later – we made our excuses to leave, too: we had, it must be remembered, not slept properly since the previous morning, as we’d spent all of the last night travelling up there! Breaking with Scottish wedding tradition, nobody got involved in a fight (although Paul and Steve almost did at one point, and I’m pretty sure that if I’d have worn the Huntley tartan, some long-forgotten inter-clan battle would have begun again after centuries of peace). We retired to our (also lovely) bed and breakfast down in the town, taking turns to carry Claire (who’s feet, squeezed into quite impractical shoes, were hurting pretty badly).

All in all, a fantastic event. I’m really glad that I made it up there to see Kit and Fiona get married, and the party thereafter was wonderful too. Well worth the drive.

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One Thousand, Two Thousand, Three Thousand… Check Canopy!

Wow: a most memorable weekend. As you’ll remember, I spent the last weekend on a crash-course in parachuting in Lancashire. Having spent plenty of time in light aircraft or coasting around in a paraglider, I thought I had it sized: but it turned out to be even more spectacular (and scary) than I could have possibly predicted.

Saturday consisted of an exhausting seven hours or so of training: standing around in a field, doing such activities as demonstrating that we can arch our backs into the “stable position” and shouting “One thousand, two thousand, three thousand… check canopy!”, only to have some instructor shout “Malfunction!” and therefore have to go through our emergency process (“Look, locate, peel, pull, punch, arch!”) for the seventy-somethingth time… or lying on our bellies on overgrown skateboards, wiggling our bodies into strange contortions in order to simulate airflow (somewhat reminiscent of the idea of learning to swim by lying on a bench and practising strokes – little real value)… or clambering into a mock-up wooden aircraft (imagination required), climbing out onto the wing, and preparing to jump… or hanging in suspended harnesses, fumbling with the controls of make-believe parachutes…

I made my first jump on Saturday, early in the evening. Despite having been cool as a cucumber for the entire training process, I was very apprehensive by now. But this apprehension drifted gently away to be replaced with blind panic the moment we’d spiralled up to 3500 feet and the instructor opened the door, filling our faces with a 50mph wind. The plane was a small four-seater single-screw affair, with all but the pilot’s seat surgically removed so as to squeeze five parachutists (four students and an instructor, in this case) at a time into it, kneeling down and getting pins and needles in their feet. The instructor tapped the pilot on the shoulder: “Cut,” he shouted, and the pilot obliged, cutting engine power to a fraction and causing the plane to lurch downwards in a stomach-gulping manner. Before I knew it, it was my turn to jump.

“Feet out!” shouted the instructor, unsympathetically, slapping my on the shoulder and making a last check of my static line (the device that automatically deploys your parachute – essentially a long nylon strap attaching your ripcord to the pilot’s seat). I knew the drill by heart, having practised it to death on the ground: I grasped each side of the aeroplane’s door and put my right foot out onto the step. Then, that secure (considering the head wind), I reached out with my left hand and held the wing support beam. Then my right hand. Then, finally, I moved my left foot out and precariously swapped it with my right, leaving my right dangling above a 3500 foot hole. I couldn’t help but look down, and see fields stretching out, little cars moving along the roads, and occasional stray clouds meandering by. I looked back into the plane to signify my readiness…

“Go!” shouted the instructor. I let go.

At that moment, I forgot everything that I had spent so long learning. For some time to come, I was unable to remember the four seconds that followed. I was later to learn (and, later still, to remember) that I let go gracefully, but then – instead of forming the stable ‘arch’ position (important, as it keeps your back facing ‘up’, allowing your parachute to deploy correctly) – I put my hands by my sides, causing me to fall head-first until my ‘chute deployed. I remembered hanging onto the wing, and I remembered my parachute opening, but the rest was completely missing for the next half-hour.

During the three further jumps I performed on Sunday, there was no trace of the fear that had gripped me during the initial phases of my first: and, in fact, I was able to get the hang of assuming the correct position and landing without crippling myself… moreover, I’m now qualified to a level at which I’m permitted to begin DRCP (Dummy Rip-Cord Pull) jumps, in which I would leap from a plane and pull what is effectively a glorified handkerchief from the back of my backpack, symbolising the correct pulling of a rip-cord. Doing this will eventually allow me to do a free-fall, and is a progressive stage towards certification as a skydiver. Which is nice.

I loved it. Everybody in a fit state should do this sometime. Wonderful.