The ringtone on the mobile I brought home from work is "Flight of the Bumblebee".
Last night, I finally got to bed around 2, having had to wait until the virus scan on my PC finished (must remember to reschedule that). I woke up at half seven, not feeling terribly good about things. My own fault, really.
Anyway, after getting a long drink of very cold water, I went back to bed, fully intent on not getting up, ever.
At 2 minutes past 9, I made the startling discovery about the phone's ringtone. Apparently, there's been a problem.
This is, of course, absolutely typical. The one and only night of the year (or even millennium) that I have too much to drink, on a Friday just after Christmas no less, I get called early in the morning and required to think.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Friday, December 28, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
No, Mister Bond, I expect you to die!
So, I have finished work for the year. This is quite exciting, except that yesterday we had the long-expected conversation about providing support to the customer over the Christmas break. The upshot of this is that I an on-call. Which sounds horrible, but it's not so bad. Basically, I'm getting paid extra for carrying a mobile phone for the next couple of weeks, and paid more if it should actually ring.
I have, however, brought a complete set of kit home with me over the holiday, just in case. Which has led to certain upheavals...
Since I like to pretend that I work mostly on spy stuff, I have consequently had to set up an underwater lair. Of course, since the stuff I work isn't exactly Top Secret spy stuff, this has consisted of hanging a bucket of water from the ceiling.
It's all very exciting. I look forward to explaining my fiendish master plan to any super-spies who happen to drop in over the break...
I have, however, brought a complete set of kit home with me over the holiday, just in case. Which has led to certain upheavals...
Since I like to pretend that I work mostly on spy stuff, I have consequently had to set up an underwater lair. Of course, since the stuff I work isn't exactly Top Secret spy stuff, this has consisted of hanging a bucket of water from the ceiling.
It's all very exciting. I look forward to explaining my fiendish master plan to any super-spies who happen to drop in over the break...
Thursday, December 20, 2007
I thought I had to know. I was wrong.
On Sunday, I recorded "Are you smarter than a ten-year-old". I was intensely curious about whether they had managed to find really dumb people to ask the questions, whether they had found the five smartest ten-year-olds in the country, or whether they were just asking really specialised questions.
Well, it turned out it wasn't that interesting. A fairly standard quiz show, in the conversational mold of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire", with questions that were mostly pretty simple. (I must confess that the spelling question where the word was 'supersede' gave me pause, mostly out of doubt about whether the spelling is different in American English than in the Queen's English. Also, I didn't know how many of Henry VIII's wives were beheaded, so that's a fair cop.)
Of slightly more concern, though, was this question:
What is: 5 + 3 x 0 ?
For some bizarre reason, the contestant decided the answer was 15. But that's not what bothered me. What bothered me is that the answer given was 0. Apparently, the quiz-masters of the show aren't quite as smart as might be hoped.
(In case you don't see it: precedence rules state that the first thing that you do is the multiplication, so it becomes "What is 5 + 0 ?", which is 5.)
Dear me. I didn't expect the feel dumber after watching it.
Well, it turned out it wasn't that interesting. A fairly standard quiz show, in the conversational mold of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire", with questions that were mostly pretty simple. (I must confess that the spelling question where the word was 'supersede' gave me pause, mostly out of doubt about whether the spelling is different in American English than in the Queen's English. Also, I didn't know how many of Henry VIII's wives were beheaded, so that's a fair cop.)
Of slightly more concern, though, was this question:
What is: 5 + 3 x 0 ?
For some bizarre reason, the contestant decided the answer was 15. But that's not what bothered me. What bothered me is that the answer given was 0. Apparently, the quiz-masters of the show aren't quite as smart as might be hoped.
(In case you don't see it: precedence rules state that the first thing that you do is the multiplication, so it becomes "What is 5 + 0 ?", which is 5.)
Dear me. I didn't expect the feel dumber after watching it.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Oh no!
This is my 301st post on this blog. The 100th and 200th were about the antics of some celebrity or other, and my intention had been for that to become a tradition. I guess not.
As far as celebrity news is concerned, though, all such things have been rendered utterly unimportant today, with the news that Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with a rare form of early-onset Alzheimer's disease. To say this sucks would be a major understatement. I just hope he doesn't go downhill too badly or too quickly - the more 'good' years he has, the better.
As far as celebrity news is concerned, though, all such things have been rendered utterly unimportant today, with the news that Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with a rare form of early-onset Alzheimer's disease. To say this sucks would be a major understatement. I just hope he doesn't go downhill too badly or too quickly - the more 'good' years he has, the better.
Debate topic...
Is it better to set modest goals and consistently achieve them, or to reach for the stars and consistently fall just short of greatness?
Wheeeee!
You know how I just posted about internal politics, and how they made an absolute mess of the latest committee meeting?
Well, tonight at band there was a big argument. It remains to be seen how the various pieces will lie. Personally, I expect to see a number of people leaving... and the band ending up stronger for it.
We'll see.
Well, tonight at band there was a big argument. It remains to be seen how the various pieces will lie. Personally, I expect to see a number of people leaving... and the band ending up stronger for it.
We'll see.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Get all your atrocities in at the outset
At the AGM, the Chairman of the band elected to step down, feeling he was getting too old, and that he didn't want the hassle any more. He nominated his successor, and then accepted a nomination to serve as Vice-chairman. Naturally, my immediate reaction to this was, "Uh oh." It's never easy taking over when you have your predecessor looking over your shoulder.
Still, things seemed to be going okay (mostly) until the committee meeting yesterday. At which the new chairman presented us with a document entitled "Chairman's Vision", and provoked a big argument. Our Vice-chairman took this as a personal insult, suggesting that the band hadn't been doing the right things thus far and, more importantly, that the new Chairman should have waited a few meetings before issuing such a document.
I'm somewhat torn about this. On the one hand, I can't agree with our Vice-chairman. As Machiavelli rightly points out in "The Prince", when a new ruler comes to the fore, if he must make difficult changes then they should all be made as early as possible, and all together. This does what needs to be done, and allows wounds to heal once the dust settles. (The alternative is to roll out the changes over a period of time. At each step, someone is sure to be offended, and things will never settle down.) This approach was also famously adopted by Orson Welles, who would hire an actor for the specific task of being loudly fired by Welles, thus establishing his authority on the set.
On the other hand, the changes that our new Chairman is seeking to make are utterly wrong in almost every particular. This makes supporting them rather difficult, despite my support for the principle that changes should be made, and should be made now. He also put things rather tactlessly in his document, but the worst offense of all was his use of appostrophe's to denote plural's in the Chairmans Vision, and not to denote possessives. I cannot support the misuse of such things under any circumstances whatsoever, even where it would be considered amusing.
Still, never mind. Internal politics are part and parcel of being part of a pipe band, and have destroyed more bands than any other cause. The key is for those of us who are apolitical to engage in a quiet revolution and improve the band without anyone noticing. Which is basically what I've been doing.
Still, things seemed to be going okay (mostly) until the committee meeting yesterday. At which the new chairman presented us with a document entitled "Chairman's Vision", and provoked a big argument. Our Vice-chairman took this as a personal insult, suggesting that the band hadn't been doing the right things thus far and, more importantly, that the new Chairman should have waited a few meetings before issuing such a document.
I'm somewhat torn about this. On the one hand, I can't agree with our Vice-chairman. As Machiavelli rightly points out in "The Prince", when a new ruler comes to the fore, if he must make difficult changes then they should all be made as early as possible, and all together. This does what needs to be done, and allows wounds to heal once the dust settles. (The alternative is to roll out the changes over a period of time. At each step, someone is sure to be offended, and things will never settle down.) This approach was also famously adopted by Orson Welles, who would hire an actor for the specific task of being loudly fired by Welles, thus establishing his authority on the set.
On the other hand, the changes that our new Chairman is seeking to make are utterly wrong in almost every particular. This makes supporting them rather difficult, despite my support for the principle that changes should be made, and should be made now. He also put things rather tactlessly in his document, but the worst offense of all was his use of appostrophe's to denote plural's in the Chairmans Vision, and not to denote possessives. I cannot support the misuse of such things under any circumstances whatsoever, even where it would be considered amusing.
Still, never mind. Internal politics are part and parcel of being part of a pipe band, and have destroyed more bands than any other cause. The key is for those of us who are apolitical to engage in a quiet revolution and improve the band without anyone noticing. Which is basically what I've been doing.
That's not even a word!
According to this article, "w00t" has been named the word of the year. Which makes me unbelievably depressed.
However, there is some joy to be had from the article, in the form of this quote, "People look for self-evident numeral-letter substitutions: 0 for O; 3 for E; 7 for T; and 4 for A," he said. "This is simply a different and more efficient way of representing the alphabetical character."
"More efficient"? 'O' is one character. '0' is one character. So, that would be a total saving of, um, no characters. Do I suck at maths, or is the person in question a blathering idiot?
However, there is some joy to be had from the article, in the form of this quote, "People look for self-evident numeral-letter substitutions: 0 for O; 3 for E; 7 for T; and 4 for A," he said. "This is simply a different and more efficient way of representing the alphabetical character."
"More efficient"? 'O' is one character. '0' is one character. So, that would be a total saving of, um, no characters. Do I suck at maths, or is the person in question a blathering idiot?
Thursday, December 06, 2007
The Quest to Recycle the Toaster (version 2, now with 100% more dragons)
On Friday, my toaster stopped working. This was a terrible disaster, of course, not least because I was hoping to have some toast at the time. Anyway, somehow I managed to survive the weekend, long enough to purchase a new toaster, whereupon I could again have toast. Thus far, my adventure of the weekend appeared not to be one of my greatest of all times. I mean, it was thrilling in its own way, to be sure, but it wasn't quite on a par with blowing up the Death Star, or taking the tourist route to Mount Doom, or whatever it is that the cool kids do these days.
However, all was not lost, for as I was checking the user manual for my new toaster (in case there was a secret ejector seat or other Bondian gadget), I found a note to the effect that, per European Directive X, household appliances should not be thrown out to landfill, but rather should be recycled. And so began The Quest to Recycle the Toaster.
Now, you'd think it was easy. There are recycling centres all over the place, right? So, I'll just hunt them down, and Robert becomes some sort of distant relation. But no! For the recycling centres have particular things that they'll take, such as CDs and textiles... but absolutely not home appliances. So, I started looking for the solution in a slightly wider context. Presumably, if these things have to be recycled, the ability to actually do this must exist, right? After all, I can't possibly be the only person in history to have a toaster that has stopped working.
Well, it turns out that the plans to actually enable people to recycle home appliances were put in place... and then delayed, and pushed back, and delayed some more. They're in that bureaucratic hell known as "coming soon".
I can only assume from this that there are a multitude of people out there, all with dead toasters, all waiting for the councils to sort out recycling facilities so that they can dispose of their toasters. And now I am one of them. Frankly, this gives me a sense of belonging such as I have never before known. Plus, I have toast.
So, it was quite a good weekend, really. Also, there was a dragon.
However, all was not lost, for as I was checking the user manual for my new toaster (in case there was a secret ejector seat or other Bondian gadget), I found a note to the effect that, per European Directive X, household appliances should not be thrown out to landfill, but rather should be recycled. And so began The Quest to Recycle the Toaster.
Now, you'd think it was easy. There are recycling centres all over the place, right? So, I'll just hunt them down, and Robert becomes some sort of distant relation. But no! For the recycling centres have particular things that they'll take, such as CDs and textiles... but absolutely not home appliances. So, I started looking for the solution in a slightly wider context. Presumably, if these things have to be recycled, the ability to actually do this must exist, right? After all, I can't possibly be the only person in history to have a toaster that has stopped working.
Well, it turns out that the plans to actually enable people to recycle home appliances were put in place... and then delayed, and pushed back, and delayed some more. They're in that bureaucratic hell known as "coming soon".
I can only assume from this that there are a multitude of people out there, all with dead toasters, all waiting for the councils to sort out recycling facilities so that they can dispose of their toasters. And now I am one of them. Frankly, this gives me a sense of belonging such as I have never before known. Plus, I have toast.
So, it was quite a good weekend, really. Also, there was a dragon.
Monday, December 03, 2007
The Quest to Recycle the Toaster
On Friday, my toaster stopped working. This was a terrible disaster, of course, not least because I was hoping to have some toast at the time. Anyway, somehow I managed to survive the weekend, long enough to purchase a new toaster, whereupon I could again have toast. Thus far, my adventure of the weekend appeared not to be one of my greatest of all times. I mean, it was thrilling in its own way, to be sure, but it wasn't quite on a par with blowing up the Death Star, or taking the tourist route to Mount Doom, or whatever it is that the cool kids do these days.
However, all was not lost, for as I was checking the user manual for my new toaster (in case there was a secret ejector seat or other Bondian gadget), I found a note to the effect that, per European Directive X, household appliances should not be thrown out to landfill, but rather should be recycled. And so began The Quest to Recycle the Toaster.
Now, you'd think it was easy. There are recycling centres all over the place, right? So, I'll just hunt them down, and Robert becomes some sort of distant relation. But no! For the recycling centres have particular things that they'll take, such as CDs and textiles... but absolutely not home appliances. So, I started looking for the solution in a slightly wider context. Presumably, if these things have to be recycled, the ability to actually do this must exist, right? After all, I can't possibly be the only person in history to have a toaster that has stopped working.
Well, it turns out that the plans to actually enable people to recycle home appliances were put in place... and then delayed, and pushed back, and delayed some more. They're in that bureaucratic hell known as "coming soon".
I can only assume from this that there are a multitude of people out there, all with dead toasters, all waiting for the councils to sort out recycling facilities so that they can dispose of their toasters. And now I am one of them. Frankly, this gives me a sense of belonging such as I have never before known. Plus, I have toast.
So, it was quite a good weekend, really.
However, all was not lost, for as I was checking the user manual for my new toaster (in case there was a secret ejector seat or other Bondian gadget), I found a note to the effect that, per European Directive X, household appliances should not be thrown out to landfill, but rather should be recycled. And so began The Quest to Recycle the Toaster.
Now, you'd think it was easy. There are recycling centres all over the place, right? So, I'll just hunt them down, and Robert becomes some sort of distant relation. But no! For the recycling centres have particular things that they'll take, such as CDs and textiles... but absolutely not home appliances. So, I started looking for the solution in a slightly wider context. Presumably, if these things have to be recycled, the ability to actually do this must exist, right? After all, I can't possibly be the only person in history to have a toaster that has stopped working.
Well, it turns out that the plans to actually enable people to recycle home appliances were put in place... and then delayed, and pushed back, and delayed some more. They're in that bureaucratic hell known as "coming soon".
I can only assume from this that there are a multitude of people out there, all with dead toasters, all waiting for the councils to sort out recycling facilities so that they can dispose of their toasters. And now I am one of them. Frankly, this gives me a sense of belonging such as I have never before known. Plus, I have toast.
So, it was quite a good weekend, really.
Feeling Especially Festive
So, there are but three short weeks until the Christmas holidays begin.
I have decked the halls with... well, okay, I have put up my one and only decoration. It is a bit of tinsel. Green flavour. It sits on top of my TV.
I have now done all of my Christmas shopping. This truly was an epic tale of love and loss, the overcoming of great odds, and a battle to the death against forces of darkness. Alternatively, I made a list of the people I have to buy presents for, I put the identity of a present beside each, and then I ordered these presents from the Internet. All that remained was a quick trip to Toys'R'Us on Friday to select a present for my nephew (he's a boy, obviously, so it's quite easy - something bright and noisy, preferably with moving parts. Beyond that, it's just a question of scale). Done.
I have also adopted appropriately festive dress, for 'tis the season. Specifically, this means that I have donned my Christmassical Trevor t-shirt, and brought my special Christmas socks back into the rotation. Well, okay, I wear my Christmas socks all through the year - the machinations of the Sock Conspiracy largely make that an essential step for all men - but I generally feel some slight twinge of embarrasment about it. But not now, for I can wear my strangely spangly rudolph-singing musical socks with pride.
Okay, so I don't have any spangly socks, and I most certainly don't have any musical socks. But the image isn't quite as amusing if I say, "mostly black, with a tiny mince pie on one side".
And that's it. My Christmas preparations are done, and now I can sit back and watch the world grow ever more frantic as they days tick on, and the to-do list never seems to get any shorter.
Ho, ho, ho.
I have decked the halls with... well, okay, I have put up my one and only decoration. It is a bit of tinsel. Green flavour. It sits on top of my TV.
I have now done all of my Christmas shopping. This truly was an epic tale of love and loss, the overcoming of great odds, and a battle to the death against forces of darkness. Alternatively, I made a list of the people I have to buy presents for, I put the identity of a present beside each, and then I ordered these presents from the Internet. All that remained was a quick trip to Toys'R'Us on Friday to select a present for my nephew (he's a boy, obviously, so it's quite easy - something bright and noisy, preferably with moving parts. Beyond that, it's just a question of scale). Done.
I have also adopted appropriately festive dress, for 'tis the season. Specifically, this means that I have donned my Christmassical Trevor t-shirt, and brought my special Christmas socks back into the rotation. Well, okay, I wear my Christmas socks all through the year - the machinations of the Sock Conspiracy largely make that an essential step for all men - but I generally feel some slight twinge of embarrasment about it. But not now, for I can wear my strangely spangly rudolph-singing musical socks with pride.
Okay, so I don't have any spangly socks, and I most certainly don't have any musical socks. But the image isn't quite as amusing if I say, "mostly black, with a tiny mince pie on one side".
And that's it. My Christmas preparations are done, and now I can sit back and watch the world grow ever more frantic as they days tick on, and the to-do list never seems to get any shorter.
Ho, ho, ho.
The day I called in sick
Tuesday was a fairly dire day, with me finally dragging myself to the end of it, and going home. On Wednesday morning, I woke up feeling exactly as I had on Tuesday morning, which left me with the dilemma: do I call in sick or not? The problem was, I knew full well that I was capable of getting through the day, based on having done just that the day before. But, on the other hand, I really didn't want to go through that again.
So, I called in sick, and spent the day collapsed on my almost indecently comfy couch, watching things on TV. Mostly Stargate, the third season of which I have borrowed from a friend (it's okay, but not great, and really suffers from watching more than a couple of episodes at a time). Also, the most recent episode of Prison Break (also no better than okay), an early episode of Bones (again, just okay), and the film "John Tucker Must Die" (which is truly woeful from start to finish).
By the end of that marathon, I was definately ready to go back to work.
In the evening, just as I was about to watch the Celtic match, there came a knock on the door! Truly, this was an event worthy of note, for no-one ever visits, except perhaps to sell me things. So, I pulled on some clothes, and made my way to the door, only to be offered the opportunity to take part in a survey on people's TV-viewing habits. Huzzah!
Anyway, the most astonishing thing about this survey was that it ended with the exciting opportunity to have a ratings box attached to my TV, and thus to become one of those five thousand people who determine what everyone in the country watches. Oh yes, my friends, it turns out that our TV ratings aren't just made up numbers - they actually do monitor homes, and derive the numbers from that. What's more, those lucky people who are chosen get paid some nominal sum to take part.
I declined. I decided I don't want the responsibility of deciding the TV schedules for the whole nation. I mean, they might end up doing away with reality TV altogether, and then where would we be? Gosh, people might have to start watching other things, or perhaps doing other things entirely, and we can't have that, now can we?
On Thursday I was feeling much better, and went back to work. It turns out that calling in sick was the right decision for all involved - the company gets more from me at 90% for two days than at 20% for three, as would have probably been the case.
So, I called in sick, and spent the day collapsed on my almost indecently comfy couch, watching things on TV. Mostly Stargate, the third season of which I have borrowed from a friend (it's okay, but not great, and really suffers from watching more than a couple of episodes at a time). Also, the most recent episode of Prison Break (also no better than okay), an early episode of Bones (again, just okay), and the film "John Tucker Must Die" (which is truly woeful from start to finish).
By the end of that marathon, I was definately ready to go back to work.
In the evening, just as I was about to watch the Celtic match, there came a knock on the door! Truly, this was an event worthy of note, for no-one ever visits, except perhaps to sell me things. So, I pulled on some clothes, and made my way to the door, only to be offered the opportunity to take part in a survey on people's TV-viewing habits. Huzzah!
Anyway, the most astonishing thing about this survey was that it ended with the exciting opportunity to have a ratings box attached to my TV, and thus to become one of those five thousand people who determine what everyone in the country watches. Oh yes, my friends, it turns out that our TV ratings aren't just made up numbers - they actually do monitor homes, and derive the numbers from that. What's more, those lucky people who are chosen get paid some nominal sum to take part.
I declined. I decided I don't want the responsibility of deciding the TV schedules for the whole nation. I mean, they might end up doing away with reality TV altogether, and then where would we be? Gosh, people might have to start watching other things, or perhaps doing other things entirely, and we can't have that, now can we?
On Thursday I was feeling much better, and went back to work. It turns out that calling in sick was the right decision for all involved - the company gets more from me at 90% for two days than at 20% for three, as would have probably been the case.
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