Don't Think Ill of Me

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From the past couple of posts you may have formed the impression that I am some kind of dangerous type who plays with lifts and stuff. This is not true. Although I did think about going into an "Everything for a pound" shop, offering a pound and saying "Right, give me everything". But I never dared actually do it. And anyway, they probably get around fifty people a day who try that one.

The seminar was interesting. And there was a free plastic cup of coffee at the end. Double win!

Lift Laughs

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We've just had our lift refurbished. One of the refurbishments includes the addition of a stentorian voice which says "Third Floor" and "doors opening" at nearly appropriate moments. This, along with a resounding "Bing Bong" to announce the arrival of the dangling box, is slowly driving mad those of us lucky enough to be in earshot of the darned thing.

We were talking about fun things you could do with a lift like this. I suggested putting, in the corner of the lift, a half empty drum of wire which is labelled "Acme Safety Lift Cable. Not to be used after 1998". That should get the pulses racing.

The Smell of the X Factor

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I'm trapped in a house with two people who like "Casualty" and "X-Factor". This makes Saturdays a particularly unpleasant day of the week since both of these stupid programs are on. I don't want to think about Casualty just now as a person only has so much contempt in them on a daily basis, so instead let us consider X-Factor.

In case you haven't seen this, it consists of a seedy bunch of impresario touting different types of performing seal (sorry musical act) in front of each other, being rude about the acts and saying things like "I'm sorry Kelly, (or whatever name) I know you are 19 had have your whole life ahead of you but it turns out that you can't sing (or dance or whatever) and that therefore you have no future". One of the touts is the lady who had the sense and good taste to marry Ozzie Osborne. Nuff said. (actually I quite like the Osbornes, but that gets in the way of the rant a bit I suppose).

Anyhoo, rest of family is transfixed by this unpleasant tosh and so I have to go upstairs and watch quality entertainment on DVD. Thank heavens for The Simpsons.

Shooting and sudden death down with the kids

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It is important to realise that, as you inevitably get older, there will come a point in your life when it is futile to try and get "down with the kids" and that any attempts to do this will just label you as desperate and sad. In my case this happened when I reached 12 years old. And today I was reminded of it again.

The students had organised a "FragFest", a computer based entertainment involving linking computers together via a network and then running programs that let the students pretend to kill each other. All good fun. I thought I would go along and run a post-ironic eye over the proceedings. I took along my bongo drums and the Gamecube because they were fun too.

A great time was had by all. I went and fetched my XBOX and TV so that I could take part in some of the carnage. Unfortunately I forgot the TV remote so that there was no way I could actually see the XBOX display, but the thought (or at least some of it) was there. It turned out that all the action was on the other computers so this turned out to be no great loss.

So then I cracked and went and fetched a laptop so that I could take part in the online shooting. There was no way I could be the worst person there? Except that I was. Time after time. Even the computer controlled players could beat me easily. And some of the things they said to me were quite insulting.

I not good at these games. My tendency to stand and ponder the finer intricacies of strategy before deciding what to do is not one of the best ways to play a fast moving shooting game. So I got shot a lot. So then I started running around aimlessly. And got shot a lot and fell off the edge a lot as well. Ho hum.

We finished around half-five. Everybody neatly and carefully packed up their stuff and left. I've put some pictures on my Spoke blog. I probably wasn't down with the kids as such. But I had a good time. And I will be back again. Well, somebody has to prop up the leadership board...

Haircut Sir?

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I got my hair cut today. Not the first time ever, but the first time in quite a while. When I have enough for bunches I reckon that it is time to go and have a bit lopped off. The girl that cut my hair was new. "It's my first day" she said as she snipped away. "Oh, I've been coming here for years, as have all my family" I replied, helpfully raising the possibility that if she got this cut wrong she'd not just lose the business my long standing custom, but also a whole load of people.

The haircut is fine. I'm not an expert on haircuts. But number one wife (and even number one daughter) seem to approve.

Bad Omens

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Oh well. The washing machine seems to have decided not to spin dry any more. It sort of goes through the motions, but fails to get up any kind of turn of speed. It is either a clever load balancing thing which has decided that washing a single towel is a bad idea or the motor has run out of puff.

As a kind of "kill or cure" we've just put in a load of assorted things. This will either work fine and prove the happy theory or both prove the sad theory and leave us with a huge pile of wet washing.

I can't wait.

Good Omens

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I arrived at work this morning to park in the last free space in the near car park. Oh happy day. I did this just as the record I was listening to finished playing. Oh happier day.

The fact that I reckon these are good things is probably more of a comment on my nature than anything else. Anyhoo, I walked to the office expecting at least news of a major lottery win waiting for me. And not one which involves paying large sums of money to someone in Amsterdam as "customs fees".

Nothing. But then again, the day is not over yet..

It's a Gas Man

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I opened the door this morning. Outside was a gas man in a flourescent jacket who was panting and looking exhausted. "You look tired" I opined. "So would you be, if you'd just done a hundred meters" he replied.

But seriously folks, we got a new gas meter today. It was one of those stuations where they named the time and the date and then arrived at the right time on the right date. Well, I suppose it has to happen sometimes.

The job was very quick and slick. I wanted him to put the meter in backwards, so I get paid for heating the house, but apparently this is not an option.

Golfing

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My brother in law let me drive his brand new VW Golf today. Very nice. The dashboard would not look out of place in Concorde. And everything lights up. Even the footwell. I could look down and make sure that my feet were still attached. And when you press the go pedal it gets faster. This is unlike my existing car. When you press the go pedal in my car the engine convenes a meeting of all relevant components. After a frank and fair exchange of views a vote is taken and, if the majority to accellerate is more than 60% with no more than 10% abstentions, the rev counter is allowed to increase by around 500 rpm.

Not so with the Golf. When you press the go pedal in that something hard kicks you in the small of the back and you notice that the scenery is now going past more quickly. It doesn't get any noisier, rattlier or bouncier (the three ways you can tell that my car is now going downhill) - it just gets faster.

And yet, I still prefer mine. It has that well worn patois, that feeling of familiarity, that lack of footwell lights which seems to fit well with me. And I'm not scared to leave it in carparks. Of course, if I could actually afford a new Golf this might be different.

Scary Carparks

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I was standing in line to buy the car park ticket today when I heard a most awful noise. It was like the distant wail of lost souls. Imagine the sound that people make at a theme park when the big ride goes over the top. Then take that "Ahhh", slow it down to quarter speed and play it in a minor key. Every time that someone went down the stairs this mournfull wail issued forth.

I was becomming convinced that the unsuspecting shoppers were indeed entering the very bowels of hell, when I realised that it was actually the noise made by air escaping from the door closers.

But it was still a scary moment.

Food as Opera

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We all stood in the kitchen looking at the little tray of sausages which were the meal for the evening. By Friday nobody has much energy left for making culinary delights. So, out came the takeaway menus. We got a new menu through the door last week and, for the first time ever, ordered a meal for home delivery. Sure enough, at the appointed time a chap turned up with the food. It was excellent.

This time we thought we'd asuage some of the guilt incurred by not cooking by walking to the place and picking up the food. Also, we wanted to find out what it was like. The takeaway is called La Scala (70 King St. Cottingham, 01482 840073). It turns out not to be a place where fat ladies sing. More a place where slim ladies cook. It looks more like a nightclub than a takeaway. All was hustle and bustle and smart young things putting orders into bags.

We picked up the food and trundled home. Again, it was very nice. If you are after good takeaway food in Cott. (athough I must admit it costs a little bit more than our usual place) with a very wide range of dishes, you could do a lot worse than check them out.

He Drives Through the Night

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Here's a plan. Sit in your comfortable, warm, room at home and use your awsome powers to restart a machine around three miles away. Then marvel at your good fortune when the restart goes wrong and all is silent on the network. Swoon as you recall that the system is required for laboratory work in the department which starts at 9:15 am in the morning.

Then curse, go out into the driving rain, get into the car and fume into work to press a button on the front of the darned machine so that it starts up properly.

And I didn't even get a hero's welcome when I got back home again.

Need for Madness

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I've got to come up with something mad in around 15 minutes. My own stupid fault. We've set the Student Games Programming Club the challenge for each of them to storyboard a mini-computer game. Of course, in the spirit of leading from the front I've got to create one as well. I think this is why leading from the front has fallen into disrepute in military circles.

Absolutely no idea at the moment. The game must take around five seconds to play, involve graphics and sounds, and not be obscene or defamatory. But still be fun. Ho hum.

The presentation is in around an hour. I'll let you know (presupposes existence of audience - but I'll go with that for now) how I get on. I'm going to try to persuade the students to let me put all the efforts out on the web for the big wide world to enjoy....