I Watch It So You Don't Have To

"Dungeons & Dragons 3: The Book of Vile Darkness" is not the worst film I have ever seen. It is better than both "Catwoman" and "Basic Instinct 2" (and, I'm sure, some films not starring Sharon Stone). Indeed, it is less of a betrayal than "Kingdom of the Crystal Skull" and at least two of the "Transformers" films. (That said, it's not as good as "Crstal Skull", solely because it at now point shows Shia LaBoeuf getting hit in the nuts with cactii. Otherwise, it would be a dead heat.)

However, BoVD is not a good film. In fact, it fails on every possible level: bad acting, a rotten script, poor direction, bad music, special effects that make the first season of "Merlin" look good by comparison...

Where to begin...

Well, I suppose the best place to start is right at the beginning. In the first scene...

No, actually, before even that we get treated to the now obligatory fantasy backstory montage, in which Voiceover-Man tells us about the creation of the Book of Vile Darkness, the most evil of all books not 'written' by Katie Price. That's actually quite cool, in a rather grimdark kind of a way.

Anyway, blah blah blah, evil empire, blah blah, BoVD, blah, knights... Eventually, to prevent it being captured, the bad guys decide to split the BoVD into components. So far, so good.

The three components are the covers, the pages, and the ink.

Yes, like "Angels and Demons" before it, "D&D3: BoVD" doesn't even get to the start of the story before disappearing into idiocy.

Anyway, on to the first scene, in which the heroic young knight Grayson finds himself being sworn in as a Paladin. Huzzah! So, he takes all the standard oaths - honour, mercy, loyalty, chastity...

The ceremony goes somewhat wrong, and young Grayson is comforted by the knight who conducted the ceremony, who turns out to be his father. He then passes on some wise words from his own father, who was also a Paladin in the same order.

Yes, it's true - Grayson has just taken an oath of chastity just like his father and his father before him. I guess the writer here had seen "Hot Shots! Part Deux", but didn't get the joke.

The rest of the plot is basically "Finding Nemo" in reverse - Grayson's father gets captured, and the young knight must rescue him with the help of a party of evil adventurers. You can tell these adventurers are evil because they all have either tattoos or piercings. Well, except for their leader; she is clearly the most eeevil, because she has both tattoos and piercings.

Oh, yeah, there is one evil guy who doesn't have tattoos or piercings. But that's okay, because he has a badass mask he stole from the Phantom of the Opera, is entirely made of bugs, and is prone to spouting fortune-cookie philosophy. He's totally an evil Yoda.

Probably the second worst single scene takes place when Grayson decides to equip himself for his Quest!. He visits Ye Olde Magicke Shoppe, called "The Adventurer's Vault", where he buys a bunch of items, including a suit of "Knight's Armour". At which point the shopkeepe asks him "Heroic or Paragon".

See, here we see that the writer was at least familiar with D&D terminology, in exactly the same way that the writer of "Transformers: Dark of the Moon" was familiar with the Transformers comics and cartoons. But, as with the earlier film, the writer shows a complete lack of skill in actually using that lore. Frankly, I was surprised the shopkeepe didn't ask to see Grayson's character sheet to verify that he was high enough level to buy such lofty items.

Beyond that, the best way to view BoVD is in the style of "Mystery Science Theatre 3000". Basically, sit around 'watching' the film, but actually proceed to mock it mercilessly as it goes. Like the bit where the Masked Man makes Grayson a necklace, and they think about braiding one another's hair, but in a totally manly way. Or the bit where Grayson trips over his own sword.

Still, it's not all bad. The design of the dragon, and in particular the way it moves and fights, is pretty cool. Well, apart from being stolen from "Alice in Wonderland" and the Jabberwocky, that is. Likewise, the evil overlord is quite cool, what with his sown-up mouth and the two girls who must therefore speak for him.

The climax of the film is extremely topical. Grayson has been captured himself (in a plot twist that makes no sense at all - indeed, even less sense than Silva's plan in "Skyfall"). He finds himself strapped to the torture machine from "Princess Bride", which they are using to extract liquid pain which they will use as ink to rewrite the Book of Vile Darkness.

At this point Evil Girl, who has been turned good by... something or other... decides to help her lover by returning to him his holy symbol (a symbol that, as far as she knows, is utterly useless to him). At this point, Grayson somehow calls on the power of Pelor to send a telepathic message to the Evil Overlord, who then repeats it to all his many minions. And then their heads explode.

Now, you may be wondering how this can be considered "topical". Nonsensical, yes. Beyond even the stupidiy of the rest of the film, indeed. But topical? How so?

Well, the key here is the content of the message. What message is there that could truly cause people's heads to explode, and in large numbers? What could it possibly be?

There is, of course, only one possible answer to this. And, lo, we have verily seen the revealed might and power of this message this very week, when the most seismic of shocks spread through our media, causing exactly this sort of widespread head-'sploding.

Yes, it's true. The forces of evil were undone, once and for all, by the forbidden knowledge that KATE MIDDLETON'S PREGNANT!!! O!!! M!!! G!!!!!!!

#50: "Eberron Campaign Guide", by James Wyatt and Keith Baker

Christmas has Changed

This Christmas is turning into an ever-more worrying event. Not just because the world is obviously and most definitely going to end on the 21st, but also because all my Christmas traditions are being overturned one by one.

As you know, it has long been my policy to put up my Christmas decoration on the first Sunday in Advent. Occasionally, this has drifted to the Monday after, or perhaps even dared to occur on the Saturday before. But the key truth is this: the decoration goes on the TV, where it will remain until the end of the month.

But this year, it is not so! For this year it has been decreed that we shall have a Tree. And on this Tree there shall be Lights (in many and varied colours), there shall be Exciting Baubles, and there shall be a Star! Fortunately, the decoration is permitted to remain, although it too shall adorn the Tree, drifting down from the Star! to less lofty heights.

As you also know, I consider the greetings card industry to be my worst nemesis. (Or nemeses, it's not quite clear - it's a single organisation made up of many heinous forces.) Hence my cunning avoidance of sending cards to inform people who I'm going to see anyway that I do indeed wish them a "Merry Christmas".

But, alas, this too has been decreed to be otherwise. For there is a List. Or, rather, there is an aspiration for there to be a List, yet to be compiled, containing the names and addresses of many exciting people. And lo! all these people shall soon be in receipt of a wonderful and magnificently coloured card declaring the Nativity Hobbit. Or something.

(Yes, that was a truly terrible joke. But if I'm going to have to send Christmas Cards, I'm going to make bad jokes. So there.)

And then there is the matter of the Advent Calendar. Now these truly are a work of terror, for unless you are the only person living in the residence there is the constant fear that little fingers might find their way beyond the doors and remove the chocolate that resides within. Indeed, it's not even a question of if the chocolate will be eaten, but rather a question of when. At any time, a quantum reaction could take place leading to the consumption of that delicious chocolatey goodness. Yes, they're Schrödinger's candy.

Here too, I have been overruled. What's worse, I discovered yesterday that the chosen Advent Calendars actually count upwards to that most wonderful of climaxes, the 24th (something not quite right there), at which point you get to gorge yourself on... a Fun Size Mars Bar!!! Yes, it's true - the highlight to which this calendar is pointing is the most disappointing and ill-named of all Mars Bars.

There's a social comment in there somewhere, but I'll leave it as an exercise for the reader.

In truth, I protest too much. When LC moved in, I of course acknowledged that there would be changes. And, indeed, I welcome them. Mostly. Even then that means that I have to spend Christmas being... jolly. Ho, etc.

I'm still drawing the line at cushions, though.

#49: "Hartsend", by Janice Brown

Bad Day. Bad Week.

Grr. I am not enjoying this week. After getting lots of sleep at the weekend, and feeling quite refreshed for the week ahead, I found on Sunday that my neck was hurting again. No sleep for me!

Plus, it seems that this month is just never going to end.

And they've gone and cancelled "Merlin", while "Homeland" gets progressively worse and gets renewed for a third season. Though, truth be told, neither show is particularly good any more.

Still, the worst is over now. With a bit of luck, the rest of the week might not suck so much.

#48: "Sense and Sensibility", by Jane Austen

Outstanding!

I hadn't intended to post more that twice today (because doing so drives the new posts down below the point where they actually get read), but I just had to. I found this quite hilarious.

The line that particular amused me was this: "Experts - and ethnic Mayans - agree that the 'end date' does not denote some kind of apocalypse, but instead a new period in the Mayan 'long count' calendar."

Or, to put it another way, "Everybody who knows anything about it says it's a load of tosh."

Naturally, they then proceed with a variety of apocalypse preparation guides. And that's fair enough - one can never be too prepared to deal with a zombie apolcalypse, an outbreak of reality TV, or a Dalek invasion of Earth. It's just a shame that the article only deals with one of these, instead wasting time on the far less likely threats of nuclear war and global warming.

The Process is the Punishment

I was somewhat surprised yesterday when I turned on the radio to hear that Rangers had won their tax case against HMRC. Somehow, that news had slipped past me.

Now, to a certain extent, I just don't care all that much. As I've mentioned before, I'm not exactly a football fan, nor particularly a Rangers fan.

On the other hand, I am rather concerned about justice, and there's a major problem here.

This tax case has gone on for years, with Rangers struggling under massive financial difficulties for all of that time. The massive uncertainty surrounding the club made them an absolutely poisonous prospect for any potential investor. The consequence of this was that they were unable to find a buyer, they gradually fell to ruin, and they were eventually forced to liquidate.

Now, the consequences of liquidation are bad enough for the company involved. But hundreds of people lost their jobs as a result of Rangers going into first administration and then liquidation. Hundreds of other people and small businesses were owed money by Rangers, and when they disappeared so too did any prospect of getting most of that money back. And most of those small businesses could ill afford to be without that money. Not to mention the domino effect of losing Rangers, which looks likely to be a factor in at least one other club disappearing, and probably several others in time. Plus, a great many people have bound up their self-esteem in the fortunes of their club (rather foolishly, I might note, but they do nonetheless) - all of whom were affected when the club disappeared.

And now it turns out that the case failed. Rangers have been vindicated.

Now, I'm not suggesting for a moment that this is a case that shouldn't have been brought. It is absolutely right that HMRC investigate where they think there is wrong-doing, and there most certainly was at least a case to answer.

But natural justice demands that, having answered their case, Rangers should continue as if the case hadn't happened - they shouldn't be punished for not having done anything wrong. And punished they most definitely have been, severely and over many years.

The fundamental problem here is that the system works far too slowly. HMRC brought the case, with a massive potential liability, and then the wheels turned. Very. Very. Slowly. And as long as they turned (and, indeed, continue to turn - there's still a potential appeal, which may go on another three years), Rangers were dead in the water. The process was the punishment - in the event, a punishment no less severe than a loss could have been. That punishment applied regardless of guilt or innocence.

And that is wrong.

The simple fact is that from the moment a person or business is known to be facing charges until the moment that the final verdict is know, the accused is being punished - inevitably and unavoidably. Further, the bureaucracy at the centre of our society is entirely capable of utterly crushing someone if it is not controlled, and being impersonal it is utterly incapable of caring. That being the case, because it is unacceptable for an innocent person to be punished, and since the balance of power lies with the bureaucracy, it is vital that the wheels of justice run quickly.

In fact, this is one where it's probably necessary to legislate - if a case cannot be brought to trial within an appropriate time period of charges being laid (say 6 months), then that case is automatically thrown out. Our courts are quite capable of working quickly when we want them to (see the response to the riots), so they should be made to work quickly in all cases, in the interests of natural justice.

Why an Erotic Retelling of "Jane Eyre" Doesn't Make Sense

A few months ago, I was rather horrified to read in article on the Guardian by a new publisher who was in the process of doing erotica versions of several classics, starting with "Jane Eyre". Their contention was that they were writing that novel that Bronte secretly wanted to read but couldn't due to convention. What they were really doing was defiling classic literature to cash in on the "Fifty Shades" fad. Anyway...

A couple of months ago, and sure enough Tesco had the eagerly-awaited (yeah, right) "Jane Eyre Laid Bare", taking pride of place in amongst the rows of mummy-smut books that now infest their displays. Last month I got around to reading "Jane Eyre" (the original, of course). And yesterday I stumbled across reviews of JELB - reviews that were considerably more entertaining than it seems the reviewers found the book itself.

(I am, of course, shocked that JELB could be anything other than a stellar achievement. After all, if "Jane Eyre" is one of the best novels ever written, and they've written the novel Bronte really wanted to write but couldn't, then surely it must truly be the greatest thing ever? No?)

I haven't, and won't, read JELB. In fact, I was never going to read it, any more than I'll ever read "Fifty Shades" (and how I hope I don't feel compelled to update The List any time soon...). Which makes it rather unfair for me to review the book, so I won't. However, what I can say with certainty is that any erotic retelling of "Jane Eyre" is inherently doomed to failure. It simply does not, and cannot, work.

Problem the First: "Reader, I married him."

Unconventional or not, "Jane Eyre" is written as an autobiography, and intended to be read. But the truth is that people just didn't, and by and large still don't, write the sort of sexual detail into autobiographies. Even people who want to court controversy, or who want to impress with their liberality, will be open and frank about who they've slept with and when, and may shock with some details about where they've done the deed, or mention many-in-a-bed romps. But that's as far as it goes. If "Mamma Mia" has taught us nothing else*, it is that the proper handling of such scenes is with the abbreviation dot dot dot.

* Which would be an unfair characterisation. It also taught us that Pierce Brosnan really can't sing.

In order for JELB to work, that iconic line of literature must, in effect, be changed to "Dear Penthouse..."

(And, likewise, because the book is written from Jane's point of view, and description of Rochester's time with his mistresses are also off-limits. Oddly enough, guys are generally reluctant to talk about their sexual history with women to whom they are attracted, and certainly don't do so in lurid detail.)

Problem the Second: The Core of the Book

The simple reality is this: when doing an erotic retelling of "Jane Eyre", the relationship you're actually interested in is that between Jane and Rochester. I mean, certainly, you can insert various encounters between other characters, but those are entirely extraneous. Indeed, they would mostly have to be invented whole-cloth, and inserted purely for titilation. It would be the equivalent of starting "Dirty Dancing" with a 20-minute scene of the cheerleaders from Baby's school taking a shower - it's a bunch of characters we don't care about, and won't see again. It would be entirely gratuitous.

So, you're basically limited to encounters between Jane and Rochester for your eroticism. The problem here, though, is that the core of the book is the unrealised sexual tension between these two characters. She wants to be with him, he wants to be with her, the readers want them to be together... but they can't be together.

But, as everyone who has watched TV knows, whenever you have unrealised sexual tension between two characters, the very moment the two characters get together, the tension disappears and the story immediately falls flat. Jane and Rochester absolutely must not get together until the very end of the book, or it kills the book.

(Indeed, one of the reviews I read commented that it was a good thing that JELB added a kiss to the "burning bed" scene. The contention there was that that scene desperately needed a kiss. But the reviewer is wrong. It's a strength of the book, and that scene in particular, that it doesn't have that kiss - Bronte has her readers on the edge of frustration, without tipping over into the point where they throw the book across the room in disgust. Adding the kiss doesn't improve the scene - it robs it of its potency.)

So, you can't have encounters between Jane and Rochester. And any other encounters are irrelevancies added for no good reason. There's nothing here to hang an erotic retelling on.

Problem the Third: the Power Dynamic

The copy of "Jane Eyre" that I read included an introduction by a Dr Sally Minogue. As advised by the introduction to the introduction, I read the novel first, and then read the introduction (which, frankly, seemed to render the concept of having that introduction rather questionable - isn't it supposed to introduce the book?). And I found reading the introduction spectacularly annoying.

See, Dr Minogue correctly recognised that the key scene in the book comes just after the failed wedding, in which Rochester attempts to persuade Jane to run off with him - they'll go to a foreign land, he'll introduce her as his wife, and they'll live happily ever after. Dr Minogue also correctly, and rather insightfully, notes that in this scene Jane is actually arguing against her own desires - she wants to go with Rochester, but forces herself to refuse.

At this point, Dr Minogue is rather critical of Bronte for having Jane refuse Rochester. She says that it is unfortunate, that having previously said "conventionality is not morality", Bronte then has her heroine make the conventional choice. This was a rather spectacular facepalm moment.

The problem with Dr Minogue's comment is that she failed to identify something that both Bronte and Jane did recognise. It would have been a spectacular mistake for Jane to go with Rochester at this point. Not because it would defy man's law, nor even because it would defy God's law (which both Bronte and Jane would have considered significant, even if they chose to reject it). It would have been a mistake for Jane even in it's own right.

See, the problem is one of power. If Jane went with Rochester, she would forever be in his power. If he ever turned her out, she would be left with no money, no reputation, no friends, and in a foreign land. She would, in short, become Fantine.

And Rochester could turn her out at any time. Worse still, it isn't actually a matter of whether he would do so, it's a matter of when he would do so. It's made very clear in the novel that Rochester despised his mistresses. In fact, it's worse than that - at that point in the novel, Rochester is an angry misogynist. He despises his mistresses, he hates his wife, he is contemptuous of his ward, he uses Blanche Ingram, and he isn't even particularly nice to Jane. He blames the world for his being 'tricked' into marriage and thus being trapped (when, presumably, it was actually his choice, made in haste and repented at leisure). He is not a nice man, for all that Jane loves him.

If Jane went with Rochester at that point, it wouldn't be to live happily ever after; it would be for six months of bliss followed by poverty, disgrace, and death. Yay!

(I'm not entirely sure how Dr Minogue managed to miss this. Jane lays all this out, in detail, in that very scene.)

Instead, Jane leaves, suffers significantly, and is symbolically reborn. She is empowered by adding to her education. She is empowered by living independently. She is empowered by taking responsibility for running a school. She is empowered with wealth. And she is empowered by her resistance to St John. Conversely, Rochester is brought low at the same time; when we see him again his fortune is greatly diminished, he is maimed, and he is blinded.

At the end, the balance of power of their relationship is changed. Now, it is Jane who holds the whip hand. She marries him because she chooses to, and on her own terms. And even when Rochester's sight is restored, they continue as equals - and that gives them the basis for an actual happily ever after.

And that is the very point of the novel. Throughout, Jane Eyre has been faced with a great many characters, mostly men, who have sought to control her - her cousin, the governor of her school, her employer, Rochester, St John - and over the course she faces this adversity, resists their control, and in the end makes her own choices.

So, what does this have to do with an "erotic retelling"?

Well, the point is exactly the same - in order to have an erotic retelling, Jane Eyre must have sex with Rochester without first being married to him. She has to give in to her desires and go with Rochester (literally or figuratively) without them first becoming equals. She has to place herself in his power - and everything I said above about him eventually abandoning her remains true.

In order to have an "erotic retelling", you have to gut the point of the book. And you have to gut the key thing that makes Jane Eyre a worthwhile character.

Conversely, of course, a retelling of "Jane Eyre" in which she is some sort of crazy vampire slayer... that makes perfect sense!

A Disturbing Development

It appears that the first "Hobbit" film will only be shown in Scotland in glorious 3D. So if you want to see it, but want to opt out of that extraneous extra D, you can't.

Which really isn't very good. After all, plenty of people actively prefer the 2D presentation, due to it not being as dark as the 3D equivalent. And, of course, 3D films are unsuitable for children due to their eyes still developing. And then there are people who become travel-sick when watching 3D effects, not to mention those who are blind in one eye, or otherwise unable to view a 3D picture.

(And, for the latter, simply viewing a "left-only" presentation is a less than ideal substitute. It's perhaps better than nothing... but it's less good than watching a film that was intended to be viewed in 2D. Switching from 2D to 3D isn't just a case of adding a second layer; it's a matter of re-organising the material for two layers instead of one.)

Now, I can understand why the cinemas are so keen on 3D presentation. With the rise of big-screen TVs and home cinema equipment, coupled with quick releases on Blu-ray, there's very little incentive for people to venture out to the cinema, pay a lot of money for tickets, and then have the film ruined by muppets on the mobile phones.

But very few people have 3D-capable TVs and 3D-capable blu-ray players, and 3D discs to play. They're coming, but they're coming very gradually (and have significant problems of their own). So, for the moment, the cinemas can offer something that people can't easily duplicate at home. And, indeed, I've more or less taken the view that I'll only go to the cinema for 3D films these days, with a very few notable exceptions. (The recent jump in prices, coupled with the aforementioned "have the film ruined" issue, is to blame. Unless I pretty much know it's going to be a good film, I might as well wait four months for the blu-ray.)

So, yeah, I can understand the motivation for cinemas to show films in 3D. I can understand why they're so incredibly keen to push the medium. But when it comes to showing them only in 3D, that's quite another matter. Frankly, that's quite offensive.

(And another thing: why does it seem to be "The Hobbit" that keeps annoying me? I was always a little annoyed that they'd split it into two films, it being one book and all, and then they split it into three. And now this. It's almost as if they're trying to annoy. Grr.)

Words You Never Hear

I was going to title this post "words you only ever see written down"... but how else would you see words?

Anyway.

English has quite a few words. Indeed, English is a bit of a rogue language, lurking in darkened alleys until less hardened languages walk past, at which point it jumps them and steals all their words, engorging its dictionary on them to enhance its prodigious girth. Or something.

However, there are a lot of words that don't get used terribly often. And then there are those words that you encounter in print, indeed may encounter frequently in print, but never actually hear used. Which is always a little odd, especially when you come to a point where, actually, the best word to use is egregious. Or deleterious. Or whatever.

The problem then is this: how do you pronounce the word? I mean, as long as nobody around you knows the correct pronunciation, you're good, but if not then you stand a good chance of getting it wrong, even badly wrong. And it's not like there are any common rules for pronunciation - what with English nicking most of its words from other languages, "sounding it out" falls apart really quite quickly. (Unlike French, or Spanish, or any of the Romance languages, where once you've got the vowels down it becomes trivial. Except for "estadounidense".)

Fortunately, it appears I got 'bier' right. And 'eidolon', 'egregious', and 'deleterious'. However, I got 'facets' wrong the first time I used it, and likewise 'chitin'. So I guess I'll call that a draw.

Back on Target

As you know, I didn't set myself any real goals for this year (though I will for next...). However, after we got back from Honeymoon, I did set myself the informal goal of once again reaching the target of 52 books read in the year*.

However, until recently it looked like that wasn't happening - I consistently ended the month one book short of where I "should" be in order to hit the target. Fortunately, that has changed this month. In addition to completing "Jane Eyre" from last month, I have read five other books. This leaves me five books to read, and six weeks in which to achieve this. Now, all I need do is stay on target.

* My standard rules for what counts as a 'book' apply. Specifically, it's a book if the publisher says it's a book, one set of covers means one book (so "Les Miserables" counted as two, while an anthology of collected stories counts as one), and when reading an anthology of stories I only need to read those bits that I've not read before to count the whole. Oh, and the count is of books finished in the year, so if I abandon one halfway through it doesn't count, but if I carry a book across from one year to the next then it counts in the later year's count.

#46: "Eberron Player's Guide", by David Noonan, Ari Marmell, and Robert J. Schwalb
#47: "HMS Surprise", by Patrick O'Brian

1,000th Post

Yes, it's true - this is the 1,00th post on this blog. It's slightly overdue, in that I had hoped to get to this milestone before the wedding back in April, but obviously that wasn't to be. Still, that makes 1,000 posts in the 2,625 days since I started the blog, making an average of one post every 2.5 days. I think that's pretty good going.

Previously, and until very recently, whenever I hit a 100-post milestone I blogged some nonsense about a minor celebrity - the Hoff, Paris Hilton, John Collins, Jade, and so on. Given that this is a far greater milestone, I wasn't sure whether I should mark it with an even more minor celebrity, or perhaps a greater one. Is the celebrity-ness proportional to the significance of the milestone, or inversely proportional?

In the end, I decided that I had to mark the milestone properly, and post a reflection on one of, if not the, greatest icons of our time. A hero non-pareil, a great leader and statesman, and one of the key influences on my thinking.

I refer, of course, to Optimus Prime.

For those who have been living in a cave, Optimus is the leader of the heroic Autobots, one of the two factions in the great Cybertronian wars. Marooned on Earth some 6 million years ago, he remained in stasis until woken by the eruption of Mount St. Hilary in 1984. He then led the Autobots in renewed conflict against their great enemies, the Decepticons, seeking to liberate his home planet from their evil dominion.

Unfortunately, he was never to complete this great task. Although the plans for the final invasion were well advanced, Optimus was recalled to Earth in 2005, when Autobot City came under attack. There, he was slain by the maniacal Megatron. Like many a great leader before him, he died with his greatest task yet unfinished; he was allowed to view his promised land, but not to step into it.

Optimus was a paragon of dedication and leadership. His compassion, and his care for those under his command, knew no bounds. "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings" was a sentiment dear to his heart, a sentiment he embodied right to the end.

Optimus, on this day of days, I salute you.

--

And to you, dear reader, I give my thanks for staying with me for these 1,000 posts. There may be one or two bits of nonsense yet to come. Here's to the next 1,000!

PANIC STATIONS!

We got a bit of a fright last night. Just after 10, just before we were about to retire for the night, LC called my attention to the bathroom, where she was concerned that the roof might be leaking. This concern was motivated in part by the fact that we share the roof with several neighbours, at least one of whom have had to have their segment repaired recently for precisely this reason.

So, I looked at it, plus the equivalent sections in the kitchen and the bedroom, and I almost convinced myself that this wasn't the case. But I couldn't be 100% sure.

This did not make for a terribly comfortable sleep overnight.

Anyway, it turned out that the roof is, in fact, not leaking. Thank goodness.

What had actually happened was that LC had had a shower earlier that evening, the moisture hadn't been able to escape, and so had condensed on the window and the back wall (because those are the coldest areas). Then, due to a significant build-up, it started to drip. The issue wasn't that water was getting in, it was that it couldn't get out. Which is nice and explicable. Panic over.

What this does do, however, is highlight a repair job that we need to get on and do, ideally at the weekend. (I had intended to do this when I got some time off, but in the excitement of cutting my thumb, and with so much else to do, I forgot.) The paintwork on our bathroom ceiling didn't really take right, for a couple of reasons. So, we really need to get up there, scrape off the bad paint, scrub the ceiling thoroughly, and then (once it's fully dry) repaint it.

So that's this weekend taken care of, then.

Firefly Resurrection

For my birthday I received the "Alien Quadrilogy" boxed set, which I have just found the time to watch, finishing with "Alien Resurrection" last night. I hadn't seen either "Alien 3" or "Alien Resurrection" for more than a decade.

"Alien", of course, is a great film and a classic of the genre (whether that's sci-fi or horror). The blu-ray is a distinct step up in quality from my older DVD copy, and if anything the special edition is actually better than the original - the director removed some 6 minutes of material, resulting in a film that is actually tauter than the original. Good stuff.

"Aliens" is, quite simply, one of the best films ever made. And, again, the blu-ray is excellent quality. Of course, the director's cut of this film is well known, and is a distinct improvement over the theatrical cut - by adding a lot of extra material, the scale of the film is extended and the plot is that bit more coherent.

Which brings us to the films I hadn't see for decades, and never bothered to pick up on DVD...

It turns out that "Alien 3" was much better than I remembered, but it remains fundamentally flawed. It's very easy to see how the opening pissed off the fans of the previous film so much - killing off Hicks and Newt does indeed negate the victories of the previous film. And the last half hour seems to involve a lot of pointless and confusing running that is extremely difficult to follow. Plus, this was the point where they moved from model-work for the monsters to CGI, but the technology really wasn't up to it. So, a lot of the menace is negated because the characters are running away from a very unconvincing cartoon peril.

Plus, the special edition adds some 20 minutes to the running time, making the film overly long. I would need to rewatch the original to see how the two compare in quality.

It's a shame - there's a really good film in there somewhere. But the changes that would be required to bring that really good film out aren't actually possible without remaking the whole thing (which isn't now possible given the time that has passed - the actors have aged a bit in the last 20 years!).

Which brings us to "Alien Resurrection", which is another film that turned out to be not as bad as I remembered. And, again, there's a really good film buried in there somewhere. Unfortunately, it's buried under quite a lot of really bad direction and really bad acting (including from the normally reliable Ron Perlman and Brad Dourif). Again, it's one that would need remade completely to bring out that good film.

(And that's a shame. The scenes where they heroes are swimming through the kitchen and then climbing up through the alien nest are both excellent. But, again, the film really goes to pieces in the last half hour or so.)

But what really got to me in "Alien Resurrection" was the crew of 'Betty', a small cargo vessel that is used to smuggle cargo, and which is crewed by a rag-tag bunch of scoundrels.

Now, I vaguely remembered this aspect of the film, and I was of course away that it was written by Joss Whedon, of "Firefly" fame. What I hadn't realised, but what I realised pretty damn quickly, was that "Alien Resurrection" basically is "Firefly".

In the crew of 'Betty', there are direct parallels of Jayne, Zoe, and Kaylee. And Ripley herself is almost exactly River, right down to several mannerisms being the same. (Heck, at times I half expected her to declare "I can kill you with my mind."!) The characters of Mal and Wash are combined here, into a captain/pilot of uncertain moral code, and who is married to his first officer. There's no direct parallel of Book, but one of the characters was distinctly reminiscent.

There's no real equivalent to either Simon or Inara, and there is a 'new' character (a little person paraplegic mechanic).

Of course, I was hit by that Keanu-like "woah" moment pretty quickly in the film. At which point, "Alien Resurrection" became a lot more fun when watched as an out-and-out "Firefly" movie. (I'm not sure if it's better or worse than the actual "Firefly" movie, though...)

But then, that just made me wish they would remake it, get Joss Whedon to direct, and replace 'Betty' with 'Serenity', and go from there.

(Incidentally, after the film I went online to look for discussions of the similarities, only to discover that "Firefly" and "Alien" actually take place in the same 'Verse - the anti-aircraft gun Mal uses in the first episode is manufactured by the Weyland-Yutani Corporation. Which means, in turn, that the "Predator" films are also part of the 'Verse. Might be that gives me some ideas...)

#44: "Pathfinder: The Asylum Stone", by James L. Sutter
#45: "Plague of Shadows", by Howard Andrew Jones

(I should probably note that "Plague of Shadows" was actually a surprisingly good book. Granted, it's game-fiction, so the standard isn't terribly high. Still, I really enjoyed it, and a lot more than I expected. It's not "book of the year" material, but still noteworthy.)

Showers

Decades ago, I saw a bit by a stand-up comedian lamenting shower temperature control. He noted that every shower, it seemed, had a dial on it to control the temperature with (literally) an infinite number of settings... but that the difference between ice water and liquid hot magma was a fraction of a degree.

Somehow, I found myself reminded of that this morning.

What I don't understand is why we're still stuck with this system. It's utter madness, so why do we persist with it?

Surely, it should be possible to construct a shower with better control than that. As far as I can see, what is wanted is a dual display, with the top showing the desired temperature (in degrees), the bottom showing the actual temperature, and a set of buttons allowing you to adjust the desired temperature in increments of 0.1 of a degree (or even less). For extra credit, the shower could even have a number of preset values - that way, if she likes the water at 38.2 degrees and he likes the water at 36.8 degrees, it's trivial to switch between them. And so you don't get another version of the "toilet seat" argument *.

It really shouldn't be beyond the wit of men to develop such a thing - electric showers already take in cold water, heat it to a desired temperature, and then feed it through, and all this adds is an additional sensor and feedback step. And you can already get wirelessly controlled showers (no, really!), meaning that the issue is clearly not with putting electronics close to a water source.

And there's another advantage, beyond mere considerations of comfort and safety. As things stand, every single shower is unique. The temperature dial on each and every shower, even two showers of exactly the same make and model, is slightly different. That near-mythical sweet-spot between freezing to death and your flesh melting is in a slightly different place each time.

But temperature is an objective measurement. Assuming proper calibration, 36.8 degrees on my thermometer is the same as 36.8 degrees on your thermometer. So, if we moved to a standard design where the user could input a specific target temperature, then all they would need to do is remember their preferred value (which isn't all that hard, really), and every time they found themselves staying at a Premier Inn they could just set that value, without having to endure painful experimentation or deeply unsatisfying showers.

* Incidentally, science gives us the correct answer to the "toilet seat" argument. Before flushing, you should put not only the seat but also the lid of the toilet down. And if you haven't been in the practice of doing that, you should also replace your toothbrushes immediately.

One of Your Five-a-Day

Last week, I found myself shouting at the TV (again). I was watching a show called "Rip-off Food" on iPlayer, which I hadn't initially realised was actually daytime TV. The premise seemed obvious enough - it would be a show about rip-offs in the food genre, presumably highlighting such things as supermarkets charging a higher unit price for larger boxes (rather than the normal lower price for buying in bulk), and suchlike.

Instead, the show (what I watched of it) went on a weird rant about "Five a Day" labelling. (And, yes, it annoyed me enough that I'm posting on it nearly a week later...)

The central point made by the show was this: apparently, there is an official Government-sanctioned "five a day" logo. This was news to me, as I'd never seen it. However, lots of companies were not using that logo, but were instead labelling their products with words (the horror!) like "five a day" and the like.

Now, as we all know, a 'portion' of fruit or veg is reckoned to be 80g, and we're supposed to eat five per day (I'll get back to that). But the key thing is that, in order to get the 'official' logo, it is not enough for a product to include the requisite 80g - it must also not have any added salt or fat. And those products that were not using the logo, but merely saying they counted as one of the five, weren't meeting those additional requirements.

Clearly, this is an outrage! Something must be done forthwith! (Indeed, so important was this that the show's presenter actually met with a representative of the government, presented her with that greatest of evils - a trifle - and challenged her to do something about this iniquity.)

That was the point where I gave up. The stupidity was just overwhelming.

The thing is, the "five a day" stuff is basically a gimmick. At no point did anyone sit down and work out that every adult should eat exaclty 400g of fruit and veg per day. Indeed, they couldn't do that, because the fruit and veg genre is so incredibly diverse that any such simplistic measure is meaningless. "Five a day" came about because the powers-that-be wanted people to eat more fruit and veg... and a figure of "five a day" was an easy and memorable manner to indoctrinate people into doing that.

(Incidentally, it's also telling that they specifically exclude potatoes and nothing else. Not because potatoes are the only lethal vegetable, or any such absurdity... but rather because five-a-day becomes trivial the moment you can count chips. Mmm, chips.)

But the big issue with the show was not that products were saying "five a day" when they didn't include the 80g requirement. The problem is that the 'official' logo has additional requirements, over and above the ones that it should have. Some fool has gotten hold of a logo that might, just possibly, be a good thing, added another requirement that might, just possibly, be a good thing, and by combining the two has muddied the waters, rendering the official logo useless. Large numbers of products that should qualify for it now don't, and so they don't bother trying to use it, and move on.

And, worse, many (but not all) of these products are entirely suitable parts of a healthy diet.

Which brings us, rather neatly, to the silliness of the "no added fat" and "no added salt" requirements. When read as "people should probably eat less salt and fat", they actually represent the germ of a good idea. But when you try to eliminate these things entirely, bad things happen.

See, when you remove fat from a product, and especially when you eliminate it altogether, the flavour is altered, almost invariably for the worse. And so to compensate, the manufacturers need to add something else to replace it. The substitution of choice being the most obvious - sugar. Pump your product full of sugar, remove all the fat, and then you get something that tastes nice (ish), that you get to label as a 'healthy' ('cos, you know, "fat free"!)... and that is ultimately unsatisfying, that is full of empty calories, and that is really bad for people.

It is now believed that a key cause of the obesity crisis is our ongoing obsession with low fat food. Eliminate the fat, bulk up on sugar, and then (to paraphrase Pratchett/Gaiman) you get to a position where people can both become obscenely fat and die of malnutrition. Good one.

The "no added salt" issue is similar, although for a slightly different reason. See, if I cook up a batch of minestrone soup, I can either add salt or not during the cooking. And if I don't, presumably that makes the resulting soup healthier?

But not really. See, what happens is that the resulting soup is indeed healthier... but it also tastes bland and lifeless. This is pretty obvious really, given that the purpose of salt in food is as a flavour enhancer. That being the case, as soon as someone tastes this bland soup, the very next thing they will do is add salt to it. But not all salt is added equal - if I add salt to a cooked meal, I need to add much more for the same effect than if I had added it during the cooking process. A pinch now, or a spoonful later.

We've reached a point where we now have well-meaning 'experts' failing to think through the consequences of various actions, meddling in the foods we eat, and killing us by inches. Good one!

And the absolute worst part of this? Even if their efforts worked as intended, they would be a drop in the ocean. If 60% of the population of the UK are overweight or obese, getting them to eat 400g of fruit a day, and eliminating fat and salt from their diets isn't going to solve the problem. It's a sticking plaster after the guillotine has dropped.

The fundamental, underlying problem is that people are eating way too much, they're eating too much junk, and too much of what they eat is simply empty calories designed to be quick and easy to prepare, to store forever, and to keep them going.

And that's an issue that can't be solved by better food labelling. Food science is too complex. The government's "traffic light" markers are too simplistic to give any meaningful information. But as soon as the data is split out into a form where it does become meaningful, it also becomes too complex to be read. A list of ingredients and a table of nutritional data is meaningless unless you know a lot about the subject or are looking for something specific.

No, if the government seriously wants to do something to improve public health, they need to get people cooking for themselves. Do that, and at a stroke they eliminate almost all artificial additives, preservatives, flavour enhancers. They'll sharply reduce salt content, reduce sugar content (although probably slightly increase fat content, but that's not actually all that bad).

Of course, saying that is easy; doing it is hard. You would need to demonstrate to people that they can quickly, easily, and cheaply produce better food than they could get at anything but a high-end restaurant. That's possible... but even so probably wouldn't be enough. Most likely, convenience would still win out, even over the possibility of adding 20 years of life!

I recommend starting with the schools. Get pupils cooking, get them enjoying creating food and enjoying the food they create, and you might get somewhere. Maybe, just maybe, we might be able to help the next generation a bit. Or some of them, at least.

The Ultimate Question

If Disney were to take "The Phantom Menace" and digitally replace Jar Jar Binks with Mickey Mouse, would that make the film better or worse?

#42: "Jane Eyre", by Charlotte Bronte (a book from The List)
#43: "Moving Pictures", by Terry Pratchett

Skyfall

Lady Chocolat and I went to see the newest James Bond movie on Friday. Demand was exceptionally high - the cinema kept putting on additional showings, we had to reserve specific seats (which I've never before done at that cinema, even for "Dark Knight Rises"), and it was almost completely sold out.

As is now usual for that cinema, we were treated to 35 minutes of adverts and trailers before the film. Which I find more than a little aggravating, but I've complained about it before. Then, as with "Brave", the lights went up and the audience were treated to an introduction by a member of staff. Honestly, I don't think that's necessary - you don't need to tell us you'll be monitoring to ensure our comfort and enjoyment, just do it!

And then the film started. And I must say, it was worth the wait. "Skyfall" was excellent, being much more in the vein of "Casino Royale" than of "Quantum of Solace". It was also quite old school for a modern Bond film, and included a number of references to the novels, and to earlier films, and these were generally well handled. I was impressed.

There was one major issue I had with the plot, which I'll go into below, but this was a relatively minor flaw - such was the strength of the film that it simply carried me along with it.

The rest of this post will include major spoilers, so you may want to avoid reading it...

Okay, there is a major plot point that makes no sense at all. The middle section of the film revolves around the bad guy allowing himself to be captured, only to escape and so be in a position to launch the next part of his plan. There are two major problems with this. The first is that there is absolutely nothing in his plan that couldn't be achieved equally well simply by buying a plane ticket. He doesn't do anything that requires access to the enemy camp, he doesn't provoke anyone to do anything they otherwise wouldn't have done, he doesn't plant any bombs or sabotage any systems, or... Basically, he takes a completely needless risk for no gain. (And, indeed, before he executes the rest of the plan, he is joined by his minions... who did get into position by virtue of just buying plane tickets!)

The second major problem was one that particularly annoyed me, but I suspect most of the audience just missed. The bag guy escapes because MI6's "computer expert" connects the bad guy's laptop to the MI6 network so that he can analyse it, thus in turn allowing said laptop to hack the MI6 network. In case it's not clear: the bad guy's escape plan relies on an alleged genius computer expert committing an act of monumental and collosal stupidity. I mean, I don't work with any great computer security, and yet we are absolutely forbidden to connect anything to our network that hasn't first been sanitised by IT. Our schools don't allow foreign computers to connect to their networks. And why? Because the risks are just far to great. And yet MI6's computer "expert" quite happily connects a foreign laptop from a known terrorist who is himself a computer expert, to their network.

Aaargh!

That epic, gaping hole in the plot aside, I thoroughly enjoyed the film. I really liked that Bond was shown to be suffering the wear and tear of his lifestyle. I liked that he appeared to be held together by alcohol and painkillers. I liked that haunted look that Daniel Craig brought to the role. And Judy Dench's performance as 'M' truly was excellent.

The other thing I really liked was the role of the female agent. She wasn't named right through the film, and I spent the film wondering whether she would turn out to be the new Moneypenny, or if she would instead launch a sudden but inevitable betrayal. And, right up to the end, I was still left wondering. That was awesome.

And I liked the end of the film, also. It now being 50 years since the first Bond film, this film in many ways was a trek back to the roots of Bond. And so, all the pieces of the puzzle were gradually put into play, they were gradually assembled, and by the end we get a very 'classic' Bond set-up - he's the trusted Double-Oh agent, he's relied on and trusted by 'M', there's a 'Q' branch, and Moneypenny, and he's all set for his next adventure.

When the titles rolled, and the statement "James Bond shall return", I was left with a great sense of completeness, and an anticipation for the next film that I hadn't really felt since... well, since "Casino Royale". Hopefully, the next film won't dash those hopes in the same way as QoS.

#41: "Post Captain", by Patrick O'Brian

I Feel a Great Disturbance in the Force

So, Disney have bought Lucasfilm. That's cool. They're planning new "Star Wars" films. That could be cool too.

What I'm rather more concerned about is that they're making direct sequels to the saga. It's complete and entire in itself. (And yes, I know that Lucas claims he "always" intended there to be 9 movies, but he's since changed his tune so that there were "always" going to be six. Bottom line is that it doesn't really matter what he "always" intended - the saga is now clearly the rise and fall of Darth Vader, and that story is done.)

There's plenty of scope in that universe for doing new films. But I'd much rather not see direct sequels. Instead, do films well before the other films (the rise of Yoda, perhaps?), or well after the others, or in other parts of the galaxy. Basically, do exactly the sort of stuff that writers in the Expanded Universe, and gamers in the RPG have been doing for decades now.

Somehow, though, I don't see them doing that.

Homeland - so near, yet so far

Having given up every TV show I watched, I've been on the lookout for something new. And with Channel 4 repeating it, I decided to give the first season of "Homeland" a try. Which I have spent the last several days getting caught up on.

For a while there, it actually looked like it might be the new "24". I mean, sure, Claire Danes is no Keifer Sutherland, but the show was interesting, it was willing to take risks, and it was willing to put the characters through hell. Good stuff. And the plot was coming together really nicely.

It was the last episode of the first season, the tension was ratcheting nicely, everything was going really well... and it completely lost it. (I'll try to describe it without spoilers. So this may be a bit tricky to follow...)

See, all through the season, it had been the case that if something happened it was because one of the characters caused it to happen. Everything was nice and clear, and laid out very nicely. All to the good. The problem came because the writers wrote themselves into a corner - all the pieces were in place, and the next thing to happen... was something that they didn't want to happen.

And so they invoked Deus Ex Machina. There is exactly one instance of simple, raw luck determining things in the first season, and it happens at precisely the wrong time from a storytelling perspective. Unfortunate.

I've continued watching into the second season, just to see if it improves any, but it's not really - the show has just gone flat. And, rather unfortunately, it looks like they'd have a much better show if they actually wrote out both of their two main characters - the secondary characters seem to be doing more interesting things, they're enough to carry the show itself, and it wouldn't require the stretching that they're obliged to do in order to include those two. (Plus, of course, sacrificing the main characters would also mean they wouldn't have needed to chicken out in the first season finale. Which would probably have been good also.)

So we'll see. I'll give it to the end of the season, since there are only 8 more episodes, but I may not make it to a third.

Nine-fingered Steve

I'm currently on holiday, and one of the tasks that I had set myself for this holiday was to restock the freezer - our supplies had run low, and so I was all set to cook up a batch of curry (or other food) each day, thus filling the freezer with all manner of wonders.

Monday's effort was a chicken jalfrezi, which begins of course with cutting up a whole load of vegetables. So, the onion was chopped, the chilli was sliced, the ginger was peeled and sliced, and the time had come for the garlic.

At this point, I reached for the knife, and I must have knocked it because it fell. Unfortunately, at this point reflex kicked in, and I rather foolishly tried to catch it. But our kitchen knives are spectacularly sharp, so all I succeeded in doing was getting a very nasty cut in the back of my thumb.

Which was rather sore, but rather more worrying was that there was a lot of blood. So, it was off to A&E (despite LC's initial reluctance).

At length, I got patched up. Fortunately, I had neither caused any nerve damage, nor had I nicked the artery. (I was simultaneously relieved and concerned to hear that - concerned because I hadn't even considered the possibility.) So, they patched me up with dressings rather than stitches, and sent me on my way.

It's rather unfortunate that the wound is on my right thumb - that's the worst possible finger to injure. Fortunately, although I'm not quite ambidextrous, several years of playing the pipes and working with computers has left me with good left-handed control. So working left-handed isn't too difficult. What's proving difficult is working one-handed. Still, I'm doing my best.

The most awkward thing, though, is that I'm under instruction not to let the dressings get wet for the next 5-7 days. Which is interesting. Still, with careful use of vinyl gloves, I've been managing thus far.

Ultimately, no serious harm has been done. Which is the main thing. Now I just need to let it heal.

Experimental Cookery 2012: Naan Bread

This was Sunday's effort, and was very nearly the last ever experimental cookery. But more on that later. The method came from "Gordon Ramsay's Great Escape", a book that I thought I would use a lot more than I actually have. I made four plain naans and four peshwari naans.

The method for making these was really simple - just a matter of making up a dough, leaving it to rise, then rolling it out, and baking for a few minutes. The results were very impressive, although the plain naans were rather too bland (the peshwaris were very nice, though).

And there's really not much more than that. I'm glad I made them, I will certainly make them again, but I'm definitely going to be experimentaing with fillings, and won't be doing plain naans in future.

How to Write an Introduction

I do quite a lot of writing, be it for my job, for this blog, or for other reasons. When writing, the single toughest part of the task is invariably the introduction, which requires breaking the blank page that previously existed. Fortunately, I have developed a useful process for putting together good, workmanlike introductions to complete this task, and allow the rest of the text to be assembled. Thus, for general reference purposes, here is my guide to writing an introduction.

The primary purpose of an introduction is to set the scene. Whatever the topic is going to be, the writer has to assume that the reader is coming to it 'cold', and so needs to be eased into the subject before he or she is ready for your primary argument. Therefore, your goal with the introduction is two-fold: introduce your subject, and then say what you're going to say in the rest of your document.

Additionally, it is important to note that your introduction is nto the document itself. It has a job to do, it should do it, and then it should step aside to let you get to the 'good stuff'. After all, if you're having so much difficulty with your introduction, why should your reader suffer too? A good introduction, then, should be all of three or four short sentences. It should say what it must, and then stop.

In your first sentence, then, you should introduce the overarching subject under discussion: at work, this generally means saying something about the specific project. Here, the subject is 'writing'. You don't even need to say much, or indeed say anything of substance. Just put the broad subject front and centre in your reader's mind.

In your second sentence, you want to drill down to the specific subject under discussion. So, if you're writing a design specification for some component, say something about the component in question. If you're writing a rebuttal to another piece, refer to that piece. And if you're writing a how-to guide, describe the problem that you're writing about.

And then, in your third and final sentence, give the briefest of synopses of what you're going to say. If it's a design specification, now is the time to say that it's a design specification. If it's an argumentative piece, outline your basic argument (don't bother with evidence, just say what it is). And if it's a how-to guide, say that it's a how-to guide.

(If you look at the first paragraph above, you'll see this same pattern - the first sentence gives the broad topic, 'writing'; the second gives the specific problem, 'introductions'; and the third and fourth sentences indicate that this will be a how-to guide giving a solution.)

And that's it. Once you've written that you have an introduction. Now go and write the rest of your document!

Fix it in the Redraft

One thing that's very important to note is that the process above will give you an introduction, one that will do the job. But I've said absolutely nothing about writing a good introduction.

As I noted above, the primary purpose of the introduction is to set the scene. However, a good introduction has a secondary purpose, which is to grab the reader's attention, to make them want to read the rest of the document. Following a simple formula, as described here, gives no guarantee that this will be achieved.

I don't really have any advice how to turn a functional introduction into a good introduction. But I do have one very firm piece of advice: fix it in the redraft.

The thing is, when you sit down to write your document, it's very likely that you will know most of what you want to say. The things that you won't know are the introduction and the conclusion. That's why introductions are so agonising - they really have to be written first, you know what you want to say... but you just can't find the best words to say it.

So cheat. Write a crappy formula-introduction first (and fast). Then write the rest of yuor document - the bits that you know what you're saying. And then go back and redo the introduction. (This now even has the advantage that you know exactly what your document has said, so your introduction can now speak with authority. When you first write it, your introduction runs the risk that the document may end up somewhere you didn't intend.)

Just don't spend an age worrying about getting the introduction exactly right before you write anything else. That way madness lies!

(Incidentally, here's a secret for public speaking - unless it would be bloody stupid to do so, the very first things you should say are, "Hi, I'm {name}, and I'm here to talk to you about {subject}." Because unless you're spectacularly nervous, you're not going to get your name wrong, and simply getting that first sentence out will help settle your nerves for the second sentence. It's quite astonishing just how well it works.)

And now... tell me all the ways the above is wrong. In 500 words or less. Go!

Called It

So, on Friday we were gather for A's birthday party, when G noted that Scotland were winning 1-0 in Wales. "It won't last," said I. At this point, I was chided for my lack of optimism.

Of course, Scotland duly went on to lose the match 2-1. Called it.

Unfortunately, not only did I call that result, but I also called the outcome of this qualifying campaign some two years ago. While it's not mathematically impossible, we can be reasonably certain that we won't be qualifying for the World Cup. (Of course, that's only half my prediction - there's still Euro 2016 to look forward to missing.)

The problem is as that other noted pessimist, Hugh Keevins, noted prior to the first two matches: anything less than six points was not enough (and we got 2). Scotland need to be winning all our home matches and we need to be winning all our matches against the so-called "lesser" teams (that is, in terms of the group, not relative to us, since they're not). The manager might claim that he doesn't do "must win" matches... but that is what they are.

The thing is, it works like this: in any group there will almost inevitably be one team that you can look at and say with confidence that they will qualify, they will win the group, and they will do it with near-maximum points. Then, there will be another one or two who will be vying for that second spot, and the second qualifying (or even just play-off) place that that brings. And then there's the rest.

(And that means no disrespect to "the rest". Every other nation doing exactly the same calculation will count Scotland amongst "the rest".)

So, in order to qualify, you really need to build it on a platform of winning all your home matches (except perhaps against the 'big' team), and winning all your matches against "the rest". Do that, and you're pretty much there. Fail to do that, and you'll always be behind.

Scotland, by contrast, seem to be pretty good at punching above our weight against bigger teams, but really toil against any team we are 'expected' to beat - wins become draws, draws become losses, and before we know it, we're out of the running.

But that's not a sign of a good team. It's the sign of a bad team who raise their game on occasion. And it's a sign of a team that won't ever get anywhere. See, despite appearances, it's not your results against the bigger teams that matter most towards your qualification or not, it is your consistency against the so-called smaller teams. Those put you in the mix for qualfication, with the bigger results sending you over the top. But without those results putting you in the mix in the first place, you're just nowhere.

In which case, I would submit that the answer is this: every match is a "must win". And when playing one of the so-called smaller teams that's not an excuse to get complacent - in those matches it is vitally important that you put them to the sword. In fact, a ropey 1-0 win isn't enough. If you're serious about qualification, your goal should not be to beat Macedonia, the goal should be to thrash Macedonia.

Of course, that's not going to happen. Because we're just not good enough. As things stand, Macedonia are the only team lower than Scotland in our group, and deservedly so. There are no "smaller" teams, because we're actually almost as small as they come.

Bottom line: I stand by my prediction that we're not going to the World Cup, we won't be going to the Euros... and changing the manager won't help in the slightest. Shame.

#40: "Winter Witch", by Elaine Cunningham

Experimental Cookery 2012: Chorizo Carbonara

This one came from Hugh's "River Cottage Every Day", which I received as a Christmas present a couple of years ago, and which has proven to be an invaluable resource.

I've had carbonara a couple of times, but I've never made it myself, largely because I just wasn't a huge fan - it never seemed quite 'right'. However, when looking for something quick and easy to make for Wednesday's dinner, this one caught my eye, so I gave it a go.

It takes about 15 minutes to make, start to finish. And that includes boiling the kettle. And there's nothing difficult about the process - the hardest part was avoiding over-cooking the chorizo (which I'll deal with next time by just leaving it a bit longer before starting).

The result was surprisingly great. Replacing the traditional bacon with chorizo gave the meal a far stronger flavour, but I felt it was an improvement.

Given how quick and easy this one was, we'll definitely be having it again.

The Great British Bake-off

Yes, it's a reality show. Yes, it's also one of those absurd talent competitions. Yes, it's yet another cookery show. And yes, it's pretty much everything that's wrong with British TV at the moment.

But it's also absurdly compelling. I fail to see how a show about cake (honestly - cake!) can be the highlight of my TV week, and yet it is.

Bizarre.

#39: "Guards! Guards!", by Terry Pratchett

12%er

I was going to post this yesterday, but so profound was a facepalm moment that I needed a day for both my hand and my face to recover. Dear oh dear...

Ruth Davidson, the leader of the Tories in Scotland, addresses the party conference this week, and declared that only 12% of households in Scotland are net contributors to the economy. Her 'logic', if it can be called that, is that anyone on benefits, and anyone employed in the public sector, is not contributing, as they are costing more than they bring in.

Now, the first thing to say about her statement is that it is factually incorrect. In a rare example of coherency, the Guardian's comment site has pointed out numerous instances where the figures used are out of date, and based on flawed estimates, or are otherwise incorrect. Perhaps unfortunately, the article doesn't redo the calculation to get the 'correct' figure. But then, on the other hand...

Perhaps more important that Ms Davidson's mere arithmetic errors is the flawed mindset behind her making the calculation at all.

The problem is this: if you look at, say, a teacher, such a person does indeed make no direct contribution to the economy - he or she draws a wage from the public sector, but generates no wealth.

Of course, what our hypothetical teacher does is equips large numbers of other people with the skills they need to gain employment, whereupon they proceed to go out and find work, pay taxes, and potentially generate all sorts of wealth. Remove the teacher and you remove the skills from those young people, and so you remove their 'contributions'.

But it's worse than that. See, Ms Davidson used a simple criterion for dividing people: if you're employed in the public sector, you're not 'contributing'; if you're employed in the private sector then you are. Fair enough. Except that if you're employed by a private firm that only exists to service public sector contracts then you're counted as 'contributing' when in fact they're still being paid with public money.

So, for example, our binmen are currently counted as "not contributing". However, if we privitised the service, and proceeded to give the contract to a private company employing the same people, using the same equipment, and performing the same service, they would suddenly become "contributing" - and that despite being paid using the same public money, albeit indirectly.

And the third flaw in Ms Davidson's 'logic' lies in the failure to recognise that the overwhelming majority of public sector jobs exist because we need them to be done. We need teachers, and nurses, and binmen, and someone to process passport applications, and a police service, and firefighters, and, and, and...

It's just utterly, spectacularly, and fundamentally wrong. And really quite offensive, to boot.

Can we have Annabel Goldie back, please? I disagreed with much of what she said, but at least I could respect her.

(Oh, and regarding the title of the post - yes, we are currently part of that glorious 12%. The tax I pay vastly outweighs LC's student fees, making us net 'contributors'. Yay, don't I feel special.)

Two New Series

Reading fifty books in a year generates a somewhat unexpected problem - there comes a point where you've read 'everything'. This becomes especially troublesome when you acknowledge that the overwhelming majority of fantasy is unremitting dross, and especially when you take the entirely unreasonable step of discounting any endless series of fantasy novels. (I've noted the problems before, so won't rehash them here.)

There's still "The List", of course, which has 100 books exactly remaining on it (although this includes both "The Complete Works of Shakespeare" and "Hamlet", which is somewhat redundant), and there's also "Appendix N" (the suggested reading from the AD&D 1st Edition DMG). But both of these are somewhat taxing - my ability to just read those books in sequence is rather limited.

The upshot is that I'm always on the lookout for new things to read. And if they come in series, all the better - provided those series are either strictly limited, or if the 'series' is actually made up of standalone stories (as in the Discworld novels).

So, when I had the "Aubrey/Maturin" novels of Patrick O'Brian recommended to me, that proved to be something of a book. These do, indeed, form a single long sequence, but the sequence runs to 21 volumes, and there will be no more (due to the death of the author). And so, I bought "Master and Commander" and gave them a whirl... and then I bought the next three volumes to read in the rest of this year.

Likewise, I saw several recommendations for the "Pathfinder Tales" series. Now, I was obviously wary of these, because game-related fiction is almost universally worthless. On the other hand, I do like Pathfinder, and especially the setting... In the end, I tried out the first volume, and it was quite good (provided you don't mind light-weight easy-reading fantasy dross - this isn't high art, just a well-above-average example of the field). So, I'll be reading those over the next several months as well.

Both of which are rather useful additions. The plan just now is to read one volume from each per month until I run out (in early 2014 for the A/M books, and around August 2013 for the PTs, but with new volumes of the latter being periodically released). I'm also going to spend some time completing my collection of Pratchett novels, and reading (or re-reading) all the 'missing' volumes. And, with the monthly Pathfinder book, and a monthly book from The List, that should stand me in good stead for quite some time.

#37: "Master and Commander", by Patrick O'Brian
#38: "Pathfinder: Curse of the Lady's Light", by Mike Shel

Experimental Cookery 2012: Pizza

It wasn't the best of weekends, for a variety of reasons. Probably the best thing was that I spent some 30 hours asleep (out of the 66 between work ending on Friday and starting again on Monday). And so, on Sunday evening I came to make pizzas, a long-awaited experimental cookery.

The method came out of Hugh's "River Cottage Every Day", although both Lorraine ("Home Cooking Made Easy") and Jamie ("Jamie Oliver's Italy") have extremely similar methods. Basically, you mix flours, salt, warm water, and yeast to make a dough, knead for 10 minutes, and let it rise for an hour. Then divide into 5, squish out until flat, and add toppings. Not the hardest thing in the world!

My original plan had been to make up five complete pizzas, with toppings, freeze three, and cook up the other two for dinner. However, it quickly emerged that we didn't really have enough toppings for this, and so we ended up freezing 2 'complete' pizzas and 1 base, and stretching the toppings for the other two. This was probably a mistake - the pizzas we ate needed considerably more mozzerella than we had available.

The pizzas went into the oven, and were cooked only too quickly. And at this point I knew despair - they really didn't seem right. Oh no!

Still, we cut them up and had dinner, and it turned out that they were okay - the base was nice and light, the toppings weren't over-powering. They were good! (Still, need more cheese next time.)

The biggest downside of this is that creating them made a lot of mess. There was flour everywhere! Still, they were both cheaper and nicer than the Tesco equivalent, and the time taken to make five was hardly excessive. So, I foresee making up batches of these periodically. Will definitely make these again.

The Band AGM 2012

The band's AGM was held last Thursday. It was... difficult.

For the most part, the AGM was merely long and tedious. There were the usual set of reports, but nothing particularly controversial, right up until the point where we had to have a vote on the issue of new socks. Which, of course, is a major and important issue: shall the socks be white, or shall they be blue?

Well, it turned out that with 23 voting members present, there were 11 in favour of white socks, 11 in favour of blue socks, and one abstention. Typical.

Of course, at this point it falls to the Chairperson to cast a deciding vote. That Chairperson being me. The only problem was that I knew I was about to tender my resignation, and I really didn't want to commit the band to something that wasn't going to affect me either way... (In the event, I deferred it to the Pipe Major, who had voted for white socks, so white it was. Even that caused some muttering, but there you go. Democracy in action.)

The band then voted on a new constitution, and then came time for the committee to stand down. And at that point, I tendered my resignation, which went down somewhat better than I had feared. So that was okay.

The only problem was that there was nobody to take over as Chairperson. I opened the floor for nominations, and was met with silence. And then, as people realised they needed to pick someone, each time a name was mooted that person flatly refused the job.

The end result of that is that I've agreed to stay in position until January, after which they will hold an EGM to replace me. Which is rather annoying - I had intended to get away clean, but it just wasn't for happening.

The rest of the committee was elected with relative ease, which is a good thing. The band should now be able to move on from what has been a really bad year, onto what will hopefully be a better one.

And that's it. A mostly successful night, albeit not quite the outcome I had hoped for.

#35: "Prince of Wolves", by Dave Gross
#36: "Red Dwarf: Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers", by Grant Naylor

Experimental Cookery 2012: Lamb, Chickpea, and Pear Tagine

This one came from Lorraine Pascale's "Home Cooking Made Easy". It was the combination of the lamb and the pears that persuaded me to give it a try - that's an intriguing combination, is it not?

(Incidentally, it's technically not a "tagine". According to my sauces (my advisers in all culinary matters), a tagine is named for a special pot in which the dish is cooked. This meal was cooked in the same large pot I use for everything else, making it... something else. But not a tagine.)

The meal was easy to prepare - chop everything, coat the lamb, brown the lamb, add the rest, cook for 5, simmer, add the pears, and simmer again. See, easy! It was also quite quick to prepare, although the two simmer steps were an hour, and then fifteen minutes, in duration. The result was enough food for six meals. Oh, and it was served with couscous.

So, how was it?

Well, sadly, it was a bit of a disappointment. The meal had plenty of flavour, but I'm not entirely convinced it was a flavour I particularly liked. There was nothing particularly wrong with it, it was just... meh.

I'm now going to have to take a little break from the Experimental Cookery for a while - our freezer is now full to overflowing with food, and we'll need to spend some time eating down our stocks before I can do anything more. Hopefully, I'll be able to get back to it before the end of the year. (Or world, whichever comes first.)

#34: "Pyramids", by Terry Pratchett

The Fourth Greatest Sci-fi Show Ever...

I finished re-watching "Battlestar Galactica" last weekend. And I was very glad to see it come to an end - although the show had some good material throughout, it was outstanding for the first season and a half and then suffered a massive drop in quality, to the extent that the final two seasons have always felt disappointing in comparison.

For my next effort, I'm rewatching "Space: Above and Beyond", a short-lived sci-fi show that is very similar in many respects. Except that it's really not very good. That will probably take me through until about February, after which I'm strongly considering rewatching "Babylon 5" - it's been far too long.

Oh, and for what it's worth, the three shows I rate more highly than BSG are "Doctor Who", "Star Trek", and "Babylon 5". "Firefly" would also certainly be on that list, but unfortunately it was cancelled far too soon (to be on the list, or just in general).

Automated Messages

I've ranted about this before, probably several times, but it still annoys me. And, indeed, the annoyance has justed reached a new level, so I'm going to rant about it again.

Telesales calls are an annoyance. Somewhat more annoying is the fact that BT recently put us on their Privacy Guard service, which claimed to cut out 90% of such calls, and it's made absolutely no difference. Even more annoying are those telesales calls that are an automated message, generally offering to chase up your payment protection claim. (And, seriously, why do they feel the need to call us with the same automated message every single day, and often multiple times in the day?) It has become a daily routine, on getting home, to check the messages on the answering machine and, almost invariably, to immediately delete them all within a second of hearing that automated message.

Actually, it has reached the point where I have strongly considered just getting rid of our home phone entirely. We'd still have the phone line, for internet purposes, but no actual phone unit attached to it (legally, we'd need to keep one for emergency use, but it doesn't need to be kept attached - and even that's purely a technicality these days). We'd then inform anyone and everyone we care to hear from of our mobile phone numbers, and advise them not to call the landline...

But it's never quite got to that point, mostly because there genuinely are cases where people might want/need to call us at home. Besides, the truth is that I don't quite find telesales calls annoying enough to take this step... and anyway, as a matter of principle, I refuse to be bullied into getting rid of my phone.

Not that it would help anyway. (And here's the bit where the annoyance grows...) Because like everyone else, I now get periodic telesales text messages from various companies. Generally, this includes a "text STOP to..." rider to end the messages, but that's a lie too - you've just confirmed your number, so they proceed to move you from their 'fishing' database to their 'real' databases, which are just mobile enough to dodge around the laws about nuisance calls/texts. Basically, you just have to grit your teeth, delete the messages, and bear it.

But this morning, for the first time, I received an automated telesales call to my mobile phone. Bastards!

(Actually, I think the thing that pisses me off most about this is not quite the companies that make the calls, the automated calls themselves, or anything like that. It's that some other company, presumably one that I have done business with in the past, have taken my details, including my phone number, and proceeded to sell these on to the telesales companies. In return for my giving them my business, they have proceeded to enable others to make my life that little bit worse - permanently.)

In fact, this is the point at which I think such calls should simply be made illegal, on a wholesale manner. Not better regulated, not placed on a strict opt-out basis (as opposed to today's crap not-quite-opt-out option), and not reduced. They need to simply be made illegal.

Why? It's the combination of it being a call, and being to mobile phones.

See, email spam is a nuisance, but it comes in, the computer goes "bing", the reminder icon appears... and that's it. It then sits there until you're ready to deal with it, whereupon you delete it. Yes, it's annoying, but it's an annoyance you deal with in your own time.

Text spam is likewise a nuisance, but again it comes in, the phone plays its alert and starts to flash, but again you can deal with it in your own time.

But a ringing phone isn't like that. A ringing phone must be answered. It's not something for you to deal with in your own time, it interrupts whatever you're doing and forces you to operate on their schedule. (And, of course, most companies deliberately choose to call when it's least convenient for you, because that gives the best chance that you'll actually be in.)

Even so, offensive as that it it didn't drive me to that position, although for purely selfish reasons - I don't receive these calls in large volume, and most often deal with them on the answering machine... where the same considerations as for emails and texts apply.

But once they graduate to mobile telephones, that no longer applies. Now, they can call me anytime, anywhere. And, unlike with the landline, I take my mobile phone everywhere with me - I basically never leave it behind. Indeed, the only times it is switched off is when I'm in church, the cinema, at the doctor/dentist, or on a plane.

Leaving the mobile behind isn't really a viable solution. Not answering it is likewise generally not a viable solution, because as noted above, a ringing phone demands to be answered. And although hanging up on an automated message is a matter of seconds, breaking my concentration and breaking my train of thought isn't a simply matter of picking up where I left off - a few seconds of telephone call can mean as much as 15 minutes lost as I get back "in the zone". (And that's not hyperbole, or even exaggeration.)

So that's it. Once I'm appointed ruler of the universe next week, my second* act will be to outlaw these telesales calls, first to mobile phones, then automated messages, and then altogether. With the strongest of penalties for those companies who use such tactics, those companies who subcontract with extra-national companies for this purpose (thus dodging around UK law on the matter), and those companies who sell on customers' details for this purpose (and especially to any extra-national body).

* My first act will be to eliminate the position of ruler of the universe. That's too much power for any one person to have.

The Best Thing Ever...

Did I ever mention that we finally cancelled the Sky subscription? I know I'd been talking about it for years, since "24" and "Lost" finished in fact (yikes!), but we finally got around to cancelling it back in June, and reached the end of the cancellation period in July.

We lasted less than 24 hours before missing it. The reason for this was quite simple: we were still using the Sky box to view TV (as it had more channels than Freeview), and the TV Guide continued to show all the channels, giving an overwhelming impression of "here's what you could have won!" Plus, we no longer had the ability to record TV, which was a pain.

So, after some deliberation, we purchased a Freeset HD recorder. We went for Freesat for two reasons: more HD channels, and we already had the dish set up from the Sky subscription. So, it was just a case of removing one box and replacing it with the other.

Which is great. We can once again record TV, we now have "Doctor Who" in HD (although, frankly, I can't tell the difference), and all is well.

But what the Freesat box also gives us is iPlayer through the TV.

Now, I've mentioned iPlayer before, in the context of watching "Birdsong" on my laptop, which I found rather unimpressive - the screen was too small, the headphones were annoying, and the buffering was a... pain.

(Yes, it is the same joke. I like it a lot.)

But on the TV the first two of these are eliminated, while the issue with the buffering is also dealt with - apparently that was at least partly due to the wireless network speed, and the Freesat box uses a wired link, so it's faster. Granted, the picture quality isn't great on such a large screen, but it's okay.

And suddenly iPlayer has gone from being something I almost never use to being the Best. Thing. Ever.

Experimental Cookery 2012: Spiced Beef Stir-fry topped with Spring Onoin and Coriander

Way back in Part One, in the last week of my time at my first job, the office canteen served piri-piri chicken. I think it may well have been my second-last day there. Anyway, the chicken was, in theory, extremely nice. I could tell that it was very close to being excellent, and could readily detect the potential in the meal.

Unfortunately, it was almost inedible, rendered that way by a single miscalculation. The meal had been made with way too much chilli, and so it was incredibly hot, that heat drowing out every other flavour in the food. It was a crying shame, really, as it could have been great.

The reason I bring this up is that last night's Experimental Cookery attempt suffered from exactly the same issue (though I'm not sure it was the chilli that was the problem). It was constructed of great ingredients, it was nice and simple to make, and it was possible to tell that it should have been good.

But it wasn't really spiced beef stir-fry - a better name would have been NUCLEAR beef stir-fry. It was actually painful to eat.

The recipe came from "Chinese Food Made Easy" by Ching-He Huang, a book that I don't use often, but with which I've had some considerably success in the past. I followed the recipe exactly, so I'm more than a little surprised at the outcome. (Indeed, I was actually worried that there might not be enough spice mix for all the beef. In the event, I needn't have worried!)

But the absolute worst thing about this was that the recipe called for fillet steak, which I got but only at great expense. So, not only did the recipe go wrong, but it was already a horribly expensive meal to produce. (However, I am determined to try to rescue some of the leftovers for lunch tomorrow. I reckon that once they're dry they should be somewhat less hot, and if I pair them with a suitably bland cous-cous, I may be okay. Maybe. Hopefully.)

I won't be doing this one again (obviously). In addition, with future beef stir-fries, I think I'll be keeping away from the expensive beef fillet steaks. The meal was of outstanding quality, but standard frying steak must, surely, be good enough?

Anyway, never mind. I was probably due for another culinary disaster.

The Book is Better

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a book in possession of a film adaptation must be in want of a better film adaptation.

Or something like that, anyway. Although, in actual fact, it's incorrect to say that the book will always be better. Instead, where there are multiple formats, the first will always be better - a film adaptation of a book will generally suck, but so too will "the book of the film". And don't get me started on films adapted from computer games or, worse still, computer games derived from films.

The reason for this, in large part, is that different media have different requirements. What works in prose doesn't necessarily work on the screen, while converting the primarily visual (and often quite visceral) film experience to the page tends to fall flat. And, of course, most novels are too long, too complex, and have too many characters to fit well in a 2-hour film - most films are much closer to short stories in scope.

And so, changes are necessary. Characters must be collapsed, plot lines removed entirely, the story simplified. That's not "dumbing down" necessarily - it's just a requirement for the film to be less than 5 hours long. (And, conversely, writing the book of the film requires adding a whole lot of padding that's just not in the film. The problem being that that padding can't add anything substantive to the plot, and so is just wasted space.)

But changing things for the adaptation can never make them better. Because what I get out of the book is probably not exactly what Peter Jackson gets out of the book, and his changes therefore leave Faramir not ringing true (at least in "Two Towers"). Or you have my friend Roger considering the presence of Elves at Helm's Deep to be an unforgivable error, because it utterly changes the dynamic (of Man standing alone and isolated for the first time). Or whatever.

The consequence of this is that you're stuck with all the weaknesses of the original, you're stuck with the weaknesses inherent in the change of format, and anything that you do to try to mitigate these is also a weakness. The best you can hope for, the very best that can be achieved, is a companion piece that is as good as the original.

(I should note that that assumes you start with a good book, or film, or whatever. Theoretically, if you start with a book that had potential but was executed badly, you could make a superior "cover version". But who's going to fund a film adaptation for a bad book?)

Now, it is worth noting that some adaptations are more worthwhile than others. "The Time Traveller's Wife" is an example of a poor adaptation - the film almost requires you to have read the book to make sense, but if you've read the book then there's no value in the film. (And, further, the film compresses the emotional heart of the novel almost out of existence. Not the best move, really.)

The three "Lord of the Rings" films, despite their changes, are examples of good adaptations, capturing at least the heart of the books. Although it's noticable that the weakest parts of the films tend to be those invented for the films - the bridges in Khazad-Dum, Aragorn's fall and rebirth in "The Two Towers", and so on. (Which doesn't bode too well for "The Hobbit", but that's another rant.)

Then there are the occasional adaptations that actually bring something new to the table. I watched the film of "Atonement" a couple of years ago, and it was no better than okay. But over the weekend, as I finished the book, I found that some of what I remembered from the film gave a better appreciation of what the author was getting at in the novel, which was interesting.

And then there's the 'definitive' adaptation - the version that sets the standard for all that follow, and indeed adjust the way you imagine the book as you go on. I refer, of course, to "Pride and Prejudice", in which Darcy now looks like Colin Firth.

(This last was a little amusing, as the copy I read actually had a picture of Keira Knightley on the cover, from a different film adaptation. And, actually, "Atonement" also had Keira Knightley on the cover... I wonder if she'll also be on the cover of "Anna Karenina" if and when I read that?)

#33: "Atonement", by Ian McEwan (A book from The List. And, somewhat surprisingly, the new best book of the year - a thoroughly satisfying read.)

Inspiration Strikes!

Everyone knows the story of Archimedes' "Eureka!" moment. And likewise, everyone knows about Newton and the apple. Because they're cool and interesting stories, even if they are about physics.

Unfortunately, they also give two badly false impressions. The first is that that's the full extent of the story - Newton saw an apple fall, and the notion of gravity (and all that goes with it) popped into his head. That is, science is a matter of inspiration.

The second false impression is that science is, or should be, fundamentally easy - breakthroughs are just a matter of getting into the bath. And so, if you find it hard, you must therefore be terribly stupid, or doing it wrong, or whatever.

But here's the reality: Archimedes and Newton were amongst the finest scientific minds in the world at the time. They had spend days, weeks, years thinking about the specific problem that they solved, on top of further days, weeks, years, decades of dealing with similar or contributory problems.

And the problems they were solving are now things we teach to school-children.

That's the nature of the beast. Science is hard, and requires a great deal of thought and effort. What's more, it's not a matter of inspiration - you don't suddenly have a flash of insight as a lightbulb appears over your head (fortunately, since both Archimedes and Newton predated Edison). Instead, it's a matter of absorbing obscene amounts of knowledge, training your mind to think in particular patterns and particular paths, and then if you're very lucky you get the moment of insight as everything fits together. (More commonly, you spend years finding hundreds of ways not to build a lightbulb before hitting on the right way. And then some assistant drops it.)

I bring this up because twice in the last two days I've startled LC when I've had moments of insight as I solved work-related problems while doing other things. Which I daresay was rather unsettling for her, but in both cases it was a matter of some huge relief to me as the pieces suddenly lined up neatly.

Not Really the Best of Both Worlds

One of the more surprising facets of married life is that the bread now seems to go off with distressing regularity. This is most annoying when I get to work and find little green dots on my sandwiches. Grr.

Now, it's important to note that this disaster is not, as might first be supposed, due to witchcraft. And, frankly, I'm disappointed in you all for thinking that.

No, the bread issue is caused by two factors:

1. LC has insisted on us storing the bread in a rather lovely bread bin we got as a wedding gift (thanks!), rather than in the fridge where it belongs.
2. We had (until now) switched to Hovis' "Best of Both" bread, which promised the taste of white bread combined with the goodness of brown.

Unfortunately, as with all things, there are trade-offs. In this case, in return for all these wonders, it definitely appears that the "Best of Both" goes off at a rate somewhat higher than either standard brown or white bread. And given that we typically get through a little over a loaf in a week, that's a fairly key issue.

So, we'll not be getting that again. Instead, future loaves will be one or the other, probably depending on whether LC comes with me when I do the shopping.

Truth be told, I'm not to unhappy to see the "Best of Both" go. I never really believed their claim that it gave all the goodness of brown bread. And, frankly, I found that it didn't really taste of anything at all. Granted, I generally find that that's true of all white bread, but there it is. In fact, I generally thought the "Best of Both" was at its best right before it went off. Which is probably not for the best, really.

(Of course, I have a secret ambition of just stopping buying bread altogether, and baking it myself. But I think the odds are rather against that! It's somewhere on the list down below homemade pizza bases.)

#31: "Pathfinder: From Hell's Heart", by Jason Nelson
#32: "Pathfinder: Shards of Sin", by Greg A. Vaughan