We won! We won!! We won! You beauty! We won!!
Yes, indeed, it is true. Yesterday we competed at the Callander Highland Games, where we came first in the Grade Four contest.
Join me for a resounding chorus of 'huzzah!'s.
Huzzah!
Monday, July 28, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Introducing the Jelly Baby Commandos
Many moons ago (indeed, in Days of Yore), back in those heady days of university, my friends and I once played a game called "Tales from the Floating Vagabond", a role-playing game with the simple concept of the "Floating Vagabond" being an inter-dimensional nexus where creatures from every reality gather, before heading off on odd adventures. One of the consequences of this concept is that one's character could be anything that could be imagined.
Anyway, this gave some free reign to create characters. One of the players chose to play a small sun that was employed in the adult entertainment industry (apparently, she was quite hot), while the other decided to play Captain Tangent!, a superhero who could never stay on-topic, on account of being distracted by other things. Like fish. Lovely, sleek and shiny fish. But don't eat them, because they'll gie you the boak. Fish.
And then it was my turn. What should I play?
And so was born Captain Tyche, leader of the heroic Jelly Baby Commandos. And so too were formed his evil nemeses, the Chocolate Button Empire. Two titanic forces, locked in a vicious battle for control over the confectionary aisles in your local Tesco. (Obviously, Opal Fruits are a cunning mercenary force, playing both sides against the middle. Indeed, so two-faced are they that they even changed their name in the thick of the fighting!)
But, who would win? On the one hand, the Chocolate Button Empire vastly outnumbers the Jelly Baby Commandos. But, Captain Tyche's forces had a key advantage: when shot, they would collapse, but then dissolve into a goo and reform, ready to get back into the fighting.
On the third hand, the Chocolate Buttons were equipped with truly wicked English accents, thus marking them as being in the elite of Hollywood villains. (Although, as a friend has recently and helpfully pointed out, Hollywood have now taken to casting all their villains as French. Perhaps for the sequel, the main villian will have to be Les Biscuits, a fiendish force of French foes for our heroes.)
Anyway, Captain Tyche and his allies (and enemies) went on to outlive the game itself, and starred in a sequence of wacky emails that preceded this blog by some years. Indeed, at one point he was even going to star in a motion picture, played by big Arnie* (these were in the days before he was the Governator).
* Not really, of course.
I never did quite write the script, or even start it, except for one iconic scene: near the end, the Jelly Baby Commandos would be captured, of course. And the villain would have devised an elaborate and deadly way to permanently slay our heroes: by dipping them in molten jelly, they would be rendered unable to reform.
So, Captain Tyche would be suspended upside down over these deadly vats of jelly, of all the colours of the rainbow, and our villain would ask of him, "So, my valiant foe, I shall do you this great honour: do you have a preference as to the flavour of your demise?"
Naturally, Captain Tyche would look him dead in the eye, and with a steely voice that betrayed no fear, he would reply, "I'll be black."
It is perhaps a good thing that the film was never made. Or even considered.
Anyway, should the day come that we should meet gentle reader, perhaps at a weeding or similar celebratory event, and I should ask you "who would win, the Jelly Baby Commandos or the Chocolate Button Empire?", do not be surprised. Indeed, you should now be armed with the knowledge to make an informed choice in this most difficult of debates.
Anyway, this gave some free reign to create characters. One of the players chose to play a small sun that was employed in the adult entertainment industry (apparently, she was quite hot), while the other decided to play Captain Tangent!, a superhero who could never stay on-topic, on account of being distracted by other things. Like fish. Lovely, sleek and shiny fish. But don't eat them, because they'll gie you the boak. Fish.
And then it was my turn. What should I play?
And so was born Captain Tyche, leader of the heroic Jelly Baby Commandos. And so too were formed his evil nemeses, the Chocolate Button Empire. Two titanic forces, locked in a vicious battle for control over the confectionary aisles in your local Tesco. (Obviously, Opal Fruits are a cunning mercenary force, playing both sides against the middle. Indeed, so two-faced are they that they even changed their name in the thick of the fighting!)
But, who would win? On the one hand, the Chocolate Button Empire vastly outnumbers the Jelly Baby Commandos. But, Captain Tyche's forces had a key advantage: when shot, they would collapse, but then dissolve into a goo and reform, ready to get back into the fighting.
On the third hand, the Chocolate Buttons were equipped with truly wicked English accents, thus marking them as being in the elite of Hollywood villains. (Although, as a friend has recently and helpfully pointed out, Hollywood have now taken to casting all their villains as French. Perhaps for the sequel, the main villian will have to be Les Biscuits, a fiendish force of French foes for our heroes.)
Anyway, Captain Tyche and his allies (and enemies) went on to outlive the game itself, and starred in a sequence of wacky emails that preceded this blog by some years. Indeed, at one point he was even going to star in a motion picture, played by big Arnie* (these were in the days before he was the Governator).
* Not really, of course.
I never did quite write the script, or even start it, except for one iconic scene: near the end, the Jelly Baby Commandos would be captured, of course. And the villain would have devised an elaborate and deadly way to permanently slay our heroes: by dipping them in molten jelly, they would be rendered unable to reform.
So, Captain Tyche would be suspended upside down over these deadly vats of jelly, of all the colours of the rainbow, and our villain would ask of him, "So, my valiant foe, I shall do you this great honour: do you have a preference as to the flavour of your demise?"
Naturally, Captain Tyche would look him dead in the eye, and with a steely voice that betrayed no fear, he would reply, "I'll be black."
It is perhaps a good thing that the film was never made. Or even considered.
Anyway, should the day come that we should meet gentle reader, perhaps at a weeding or similar celebratory event, and I should ask you "who would win, the Jelly Baby Commandos or the Chocolate Button Empire?", do not be surprised. Indeed, you should now be armed with the knowledge to make an informed choice in this most difficult of debates.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
A "Pirates Who Don't Do Anything" movie?
So, earlier today I was in the Best Buy in Minneapolis...
Actually, no, that's not right, is it? Just because I haven't been to bed yet doesn't mean it isn't a new day.
So, yesterday, I was in the Best Buy in Minneapolis, and found myself browsing the music section, whereupon I chanced to see the soundtrack for the "Pirates Who Don't Do Anything" movie. This surprised me somewhat, since I did not know that such a thing might exist.
Indeed, I'm not entirely sure how such a thing could exist. I mean, what would be the plot, if they don't actually do anything? And it can't be about that one time when they did do something, since that story has already been done.
Frankly, it all strikes me as a bit silly. Though arguably not as silly as a store selling "used guns" (true story).
Actually, no, that's not right, is it? Just because I haven't been to bed yet doesn't mean it isn't a new day.
So, yesterday, I was in the Best Buy in Minneapolis, and found myself browsing the music section, whereupon I chanced to see the soundtrack for the "Pirates Who Don't Do Anything" movie. This surprised me somewhat, since I did not know that such a thing might exist.
Indeed, I'm not entirely sure how such a thing could exist. I mean, what would be the plot, if they don't actually do anything? And it can't be about that one time when they did do something, since that story has already been done.
Frankly, it all strikes me as a bit silly. Though arguably not as silly as a store selling "used guns" (true story).
Saturday, July 05, 2008
The emergency piper
Just before I reached the car park in Glasgow, my phone rang. I consequently ignored it, thinking that if it was important then they'd either phone back or leave a message. And, indeed, they did. The message was from the wife of our former pipe major, asking if I was available to play a wedding today.
Today!
As if completely by chance, my game was cancelled today, due to one of my friends thinking I was in the States (long story), and so it turned out that I was available. So, I went, played, got paid, and it was good.
Still, it's a bit odd being asked to play on the day of the performance. (What I think happened is that the PM took the gig some time ago. His job has taken him away for a while, and I suspect he forgot until this morning that he was supposed to play. And so, the call went out, "Help!")
It has been a strange day.
Today!
As if completely by chance, my game was cancelled today, due to one of my friends thinking I was in the States (long story), and so it turned out that I was available. So, I went, played, got paid, and it was good.
Still, it's a bit odd being asked to play on the day of the performance. (What I think happened is that the PM took the gig some time ago. His job has taken him away for a while, and I suspect he forgot until this morning that he was supposed to play. And so, the call went out, "Help!")
It has been a strange day.
Gosh
And speaking of the finale of "Doctor Who"... It Was Awesome!
After last year's disaster, and given the situation at the end of last week's episode, I fully expected them to do a "Reset Button" ending, where they throw a magic switch and set everything back as it was (and it was all a dream...). But they didn't! And no airy-fairy "let's all think about the Doctor at precisely the same time" glowy magic mince.
My faith has been restored.
It has been a strange day.
After last year's disaster, and given the situation at the end of last week's episode, I fully expected them to do a "Reset Button" ending, where they throw a magic switch and set everything back as it was (and it was all a dream...). But they didn't! And no airy-fairy "let's all think about the Doctor at precisely the same time" glowy magic mince.
My faith has been restored.
It has been a strange day.
Richard, sit down, you're not going to believe this one...
After being rattled by the deadly Gazebo threat, I headed towards town, intent on purchasing a number of new books suitable for travelling. En route, I stopped at my parents' house, to wish them well on their holidays, to check up on how my gran is doing, and just because.
Anyway, in the course of the discussions, the topic of "Doctor Who" came up, because obviously both my parents are avid viewers (and how wierd is that?). Anyway, we discussed last week's cliffhanger, and the possibility that David Tennant might be leaving.
At this point, my Mum drifted away to do something else (I forget what - had I known what was to come, I would have burned that into my memory forever). I commented that David Tennant was taking quite a lot of time out next year for various projects, including doing Hamlet (I think with Patrick Stewart).
"I think he'll be playing Hamlet," said I, "with Stewart playing Hamlet's uncle... whose name eludes me for the moment. Claudius?" Now, obviously, this is a near unforgivable lapse, but I will note that I was guessing the right name.
Dad didn't know off the top of his head, so went looking for the "Works of Shakespeare" they keep on their bookshelf.
And then he said, "It's unfortunate {Mum} went off like that, because she would know." !!!
In case you were too stunned to realise what just happened, I'll just spell it out: my father, the font of all knowledge, not only admitted to not knowing something (!), but also commented that my Mum would be a greater authority than he on the subject (!!).
It has been a strange day.
Anyway, in the course of the discussions, the topic of "Doctor Who" came up, because obviously both my parents are avid viewers (and how wierd is that?). Anyway, we discussed last week's cliffhanger, and the possibility that David Tennant might be leaving.
At this point, my Mum drifted away to do something else (I forget what - had I known what was to come, I would have burned that into my memory forever). I commented that David Tennant was taking quite a lot of time out next year for various projects, including doing Hamlet (I think with Patrick Stewart).
"I think he'll be playing Hamlet," said I, "with Stewart playing Hamlet's uncle... whose name eludes me for the moment. Claudius?" Now, obviously, this is a near unforgivable lapse, but I will note that I was guessing the right name.
Dad didn't know off the top of his head, so went looking for the "Works of Shakespeare" they keep on their bookshelf.
And then he said, "It's unfortunate {Mum} went off like that, because she would know." !!!
In case you were too stunned to realise what just happened, I'll just spell it out: my father, the font of all knowledge, not only admitted to not knowing something (!), but also commented that my Mum would be a greater authority than he on the subject (!!).
It has been a strange day.
Words to chill the soul of any gamer
The second sentence spoken by my neighbour to me this morning:
"There's a problem with our gazebo..."
"There's a problem with our gazebo..."
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
3e for me
Just under a month ago, the fourth edition of the "Dungeons & Dragons" game was released with an almost complete lack of fanfare. Despite my misgivings and doubts, I promptly invested in a set of the new rulebooks, spent two weeks valiantly reading though the 832 pages of rules for this new, simpler version of the game, and have since spent some considerable time pondering the new edition, whether to switch over to it, or whether not to bother.
I'm thinking I'll not bother.
My initial impression of the new game was that the books were very big, very heavy, and really quite intimidating. Quite frankly, 832 pages of rules is just too many for a game of this sort, by a factor of about 3. My overriding emotion on first cracking open the new PHB was one of fear, rather than the excitement that has greeted each new edition I have read in the last twenty years.
However, I consciously put aside my misgivings and prejudices about the game (as far as one can do, anyway), and tried to read with an open mind. And found that the game is much, much better than I had feared. In fact, it is a good game. No, it's a very good game. But it falls short of being a great game.
Key improvements:
Still, the truth is that this game has always had numerous silly rules. It has always had significant weaknesses, and it has always been for the DM to bring sense to this mess.
So, 4e is a good game, but one that could and should have been much better. On reflection, though, I don't think it is sufficiently better to persuade me to switch.
I'm thinking I'll not bother.
My initial impression of the new game was that the books were very big, very heavy, and really quite intimidating. Quite frankly, 832 pages of rules is just too many for a game of this sort, by a factor of about 3. My overriding emotion on first cracking open the new PHB was one of fear, rather than the excitement that has greeted each new edition I have read in the last twenty years.
However, I consciously put aside my misgivings and prejudices about the game (as far as one can do, anyway), and tried to read with an open mind. And found that the game is much, much better than I had feared. In fact, it is a good game. No, it's a very good game. But it falls short of being a great game.
Key improvements:
- Each class has an explicitly stated role in the party. We have defenders (Fighter, Paladin), who stand at the front, take lots of damage, and protect weaker characters. We have strikers (Ranger, Rogue, Warlock), who move around a lot, deal lots of damage, but are quite fragile themselves. We have leaders (bad name, but never mind; Cleric, Warlord) who inspire the rest of their party to do better, and have powerful healing abilities. And we have controllers (Wizard), who cast big area-effect spells. By explicitly stating the class roles, they make it clear just what each class is meant to do, and eliminate some of the 'junk-classes' from the previous edition (where the Bard and Monk were decent characters, but didn't really fit most parties).
- They've gone some considerable distance towards equalising the maths, so that high-level play works rather better. In third edition, the cumulative effect of massive specialisation and all the modifiers was that a task one character would succeed on with a 2, another would fail on except with a 20. This caused some considerable problems above level 13 or so.
- The encounter design rules in the DMG are considerably improved, and should lead to far more interesting and more balanced encounters.
- The DMG also includes a concept called "Skill Challenges", which handle things like negotiating with nobles, interrogating prisoners, chases, and so forth. The concept behind these is really strong. (But see below.)
- The Monster Manual includes many different versions of common monsters at different power levels. Previously, the Orc that was presented was the weakest of his kind, and if you wanted a more powerful Orc you had to build him yourself, taking considerable time.
- They have adopted an 'exception-based' rules approach, where everything is a special case. This means that the game is easier to learn - you only need to know what you need to know. However, it also gives rise to 'duelling exceptions', where one character has a power that does one thing, another has a power that does something mutually exclusive, and there is no indication of how the two should interact.
- Additionally, where special cases are given, they cannot be applied in the general case. You can close your eyes to protect yourself against the Medusa's petrifying gaze... but what about the gaze attack of the Basilisk?
- The new DMG has been hailed as being the best ever. It isn't, although it's easy to make that mistake. The new DMG is full of really good general advice for new DMs. It also covers all of the important topics required. However, where it falls down really badly is in the area of specifics. It talks about designing encounters in the 'natural' and 'staged' ways, as well as the 'best' way ('natural' encounters start from "what creatures should be here?", 'staged' encounters start from "what would be cool to have here?", and 'best' encounters blend the two). This is a good thing; but it doesn't actually tell you how to design any of these things. Oops.
- They've thrown out almost all of the accumulated baggage of the last thirty years. This might be a good thing, except that that baggage was a whole lot of the charm of the game. Without it, the whole thing seems oddly soulless.
- Remember that oh-so-great 'Skill Challenge' concept, and the wonderful news that they've 'fixed the maths'? Well, it turns out they didn't run the probabilities on the system, because the odds of actually succeeding at a Skill Challenge are miniscule.
- Perhaps most damning of all, those 832 pages of rules give rise to a game that feels... incomplete. It's like a Starter Set for a good game, a game that they'll no doubt build on over the next few years, at a cost of $30 a month. While the third edition rules could be played out of the box for years without becoming stale, the fourth edition looks like it will run out of novelty in about a year... coincidentally just as they're planning on releasing "Player's Handbook 2". In fact, even trying to build a single first level adventure that doesn't include either Kobolds or Goblins is a daunting task - there just isn't anyone to fight!
- The new alignment system removes several of the existing alignments. Apparently, the concept of a character being 'Chaotic Good' was difficult and confusing, so it's now simply 'Good'. But that's not the silliest part of it. The new alignment system represents which cosmic team a character belongs to, and is otherwise neither restrictive nor descriptive. Consequently, your Lawful Good Paladin can quite happily go around burning down orphanages, and remain both Lawful Good and a Paladin, just so long as he stands ready to inflict genocide on random Orcs at the slightest provocation.
- The mounted combat rules allow a character's mount to use his own Stealth bonus in place of that of his mount. So, a sneaky Elf on a rhino can infiltrate the enemy camp under cover of darkness, and then rampage away to his heart's content. Huzzah for Stealth Rhinos!
- Remember that Medusa's petrifying gaze? Well, it turns out you don't need to worry about it. See, the gaze requires an action on the part of the Medusa, and closing your eyes protects you. Since it's absurd to suggest that opening or closing your eyes is anything other than a free action, there's nothing to stop you acting thus: open eyes - act - act - act - close eyes. (Fortunately, the Basilisk will still be able to get you.)
Still, the truth is that this game has always had numerous silly rules. It has always had significant weaknesses, and it has always been for the DM to bring sense to this mess.
So, 4e is a good game, but one that could and should have been much better. On reflection, though, I don't think it is sufficiently better to persuade me to switch.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
A new low
When the post arrived this morning, it included several items that I had been waiting for. This was a good thing, since all I had received all week was a pile of junk mail (which I took reasonable pleasure in feeding to the shredder, but which was still annoying).
Except of course that, this being Sunday, this wasn't the mail delivery this week, but rather my neighbours re-delivering the pile of things that had been sent to the wrong address. Score one for Royal Mail!
But the best item of the lot was a card reading "Sorry, you were out" (which I was), "the packet was too big for your letterbox". Unfortunately, I know the item in question, it being a monthly delivery, and it is not too big for my letterbox. If they'd delivered it to the right address, I would have it by now, and not be set up for another exciting opportunity to pay £1.70 for 7 minutes of parking again.
Yay!
Except of course that, this being Sunday, this wasn't the mail delivery this week, but rather my neighbours re-delivering the pile of things that had been sent to the wrong address. Score one for Royal Mail!
But the best item of the lot was a card reading "Sorry, you were out" (which I was), "the packet was too big for your letterbox". Unfortunately, I know the item in question, it being a monthly delivery, and it is not too big for my letterbox. If they'd delivered it to the right address, I would have it by now, and not be set up for another exciting opportunity to pay £1.70 for 7 minutes of parking again.
Yay!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Ouch
Yesterday, I burned the back of my wrist in a lasagne-related over glove malfunction. This was not a good thing.
It hurts like crazy. I'm given to believe that this is actually a good thing - 'tis only a flesh wound.
It hurts like crazy. I'm given to believe that this is actually a good thing - 'tis only a flesh wound.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Of course, the one thing has nothing to do with the other
Contrary to Captain Ric's assertions, I do count. In fact, I have elected to start counting in hexadecimal, casting off the shackles of the outmoded base-10 system in favour of a more logical and altogether more elegant method.
In unrelated news, it is my birthday soon. I'm looking forward to turning 20.
In unrelated news, it is my birthday soon. I'm looking forward to turning 20.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Only 50% psychic
Yesterday I arrived at band to find that the Pipe Major had called an emergency meeting. "Oh hell," I thought, "he's going to quit." I looked around the room at the assembled band members, and concluded that there was no-one in the band who was likely to take over.
Right then. Time to plan how I'm going to take the band forward. What should be the short-term plans, the medium-term plans, and the long-term plans?
The meeting began, and sure enough, the Pipe Major had decided to step down. He had a new job, which would take him away for too much time, and anyway things hadn't really been going to plan.
However... he'd found his successor. One of his friends, a Grade One piper, and a guy who had come to help us tune up at several competitions in the last year, had agreed to take over, if this was acceptable to the rest of the band.
So, I dodged a bullet there. I feel almost Neo-like in my mad skillz.
And now we wait and see: where will the new guy take us from here?
Right then. Time to plan how I'm going to take the band forward. What should be the short-term plans, the medium-term plans, and the long-term plans?
The meeting began, and sure enough, the Pipe Major had decided to step down. He had a new job, which would take him away for too much time, and anyway things hadn't really been going to plan.
However... he'd found his successor. One of his friends, a Grade One piper, and a guy who had come to help us tune up at several competitions in the last year, had agreed to take over, if this was acceptable to the rest of the band.
So, I dodged a bullet there. I feel almost Neo-like in my mad skillz.
And now we wait and see: where will the new guy take us from here?
The sweet smell of success
It's always nice successfully completing a task that was right on the edge of your capabilities. It's even nicer when you do this about an hour before you stop for the weekend.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
They didn't tell us about the need for hats
In church today, we were given a task. The command was simple: invent an extravagant greeting to use.
But, as we all know, true extravagance needs hats. The taller the better? How could we invent a truly extravagant greeting without a ready supply of comedy headwear?
And, of course, there's the moustaches. Clearly, no-one was prepared with a suitably twirly moustache for extravagant hatted greeting use. (Obviously, that's one for the Men in the congregation. As we all know from the "Spongebob Squarepants" movie, only Men are entitled to twirly moustaches, and the ability to grow a twirly moustache is the true indication of Manhood.)
Honestly, why don't they tell us these things in advance?
But, as we all know, true extravagance needs hats. The taller the better? How could we invent a truly extravagant greeting without a ready supply of comedy headwear?
And, of course, there's the moustaches. Clearly, no-one was prepared with a suitably twirly moustache for extravagant hatted greeting use. (Obviously, that's one for the Men in the congregation. As we all know from the "Spongebob Squarepants" movie, only Men are entitled to twirly moustaches, and the ability to grow a twirly moustache is the true indication of Manhood.)
Honestly, why don't they tell us these things in advance?
Thursday, June 12, 2008
I must confess...
Euro 2008 is a whole lot less interesting without England in there.
On the other hand, watching it is a whole lot more pleasant without the commentators and analysts constantly diverting off at tangents to talk about England's chances, to bring us the latest 'news' from the England camp, and crowing about how England were surely the favourites to win the tournament. Followed, of course, by the unpleasant sense of schaudenfruede that comes when they inevitably get knocked out by Portugal or Germany (or Argentina, in the World Cup) on penalties. (To my English readers: I'm sorry, but I really hate your presenters.)
(It's also unfortunate that Scotland aren't there. However, given that Italy and France got drawn together again, and with Holland this time, I'm not sure we would have been in it for long. And, given our qualifying group for the World Cup, the fact that Holland trouced Italy was more than a little disconcerting.)
Oh, before I go, my prediction for the tournament: although the best teams I've seen so far have been Spain and Holland (I haven't seen Portugal, but I heard they were very good yesterday), I'm going to go for Germany as the eventual winners. Spain have a habit of imploding at key points, while Holland may well find the effort involved in qualifying from an Italy/France group tires them too much for the later stages.
On the other hand, watching it is a whole lot more pleasant without the commentators and analysts constantly diverting off at tangents to talk about England's chances, to bring us the latest 'news' from the England camp, and crowing about how England were surely the favourites to win the tournament. Followed, of course, by the unpleasant sense of schaudenfruede that comes when they inevitably get knocked out by Portugal or Germany (or Argentina, in the World Cup) on penalties. (To my English readers: I'm sorry, but I really hate your presenters.)
(It's also unfortunate that Scotland aren't there. However, given that Italy and France got drawn together again, and with Holland this time, I'm not sure we would have been in it for long. And, given our qualifying group for the World Cup, the fact that Holland trouced Italy was more than a little disconcerting.)
Oh, before I go, my prediction for the tournament: although the best teams I've seen so far have been Spain and Holland (I haven't seen Portugal, but I heard they were very good yesterday), I'm going to go for Germany as the eventual winners. Spain have a habit of imploding at key points, while Holland may well find the effort involved in qualifying from an Italy/France group tires them too much for the later stages.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Random Thoughts
I'm extremely tired. I don't think I should be so tired.
The Fratellis' second album is... okay. It's about as good as their first album, with the exception of "Chelsea Dagger" - the new offering doesn't have anything that comes close.
Tesco's "Ridge" crisps are a low-fat clone of McCoys, which they didn't have in stock. Despite tasting much the same, and having the same sort of texture to them, they are strangely unsatisfying.
The 4th Edition of "Dungeons & Dragons" isn't as bad as I'd feared. More on this at a later date.
"Sunshine", the film by Danny Boyle about a mission to re-ignite the sun is awful. Avoid like the plague.
Similarly, although I haven't seen it, I'm going to confidently predict that "Species IV" is awful.
LOLcats are funny.
The government's latest antic, to give false terror suspects £3,000 compensation for each day they are wrongly held without charge beyond the present 28-day limit (this being a bribe to persuade rebel MPs to vote for this atrocity), would leave me fizzing with anger, if the concept of making a decent living in this way didn't cause me to giggle with Doctor Evil-esque glee.
Isn't it odd that some words are just funny, in and of themselves?
Chunky Monkey ice cream is an odd thing, although not an unpleasant one. I'm not sure about the walnuts, though.
Which is better, candy floss or a sledgehammer?
The Fratellis' second album is... okay. It's about as good as their first album, with the exception of "Chelsea Dagger" - the new offering doesn't have anything that comes close.
Tesco's "Ridge" crisps are a low-fat clone of McCoys, which they didn't have in stock. Despite tasting much the same, and having the same sort of texture to them, they are strangely unsatisfying.
The 4th Edition of "Dungeons & Dragons" isn't as bad as I'd feared. More on this at a later date.
"Sunshine", the film by Danny Boyle about a mission to re-ignite the sun is awful. Avoid like the plague.
Similarly, although I haven't seen it, I'm going to confidently predict that "Species IV" is awful.
LOLcats are funny.
The government's latest antic, to give false terror suspects £3,000 compensation for each day they are wrongly held without charge beyond the present 28-day limit (this being a bribe to persuade rebel MPs to vote for this atrocity), would leave me fizzing with anger, if the concept of making a decent living in this way didn't cause me to giggle with Doctor Evil-esque glee.
Isn't it odd that some words are just funny, in and of themselves?
Chunky Monkey ice cream is an odd thing, although not an unpleasant one. I'm not sure about the walnuts, though.
Which is better, candy floss or a sledgehammer?
Saturday, June 07, 2008
£1.50 for seven minutes of parking?
It frequently seems like many of the services that exist in this world are specifically designed so that people who work can't take advantage of them. Need your gas meter read? Well, the guy only works 9-5 on weekdays. Need to visit the doctor or dentist? Well,they're open 9-5 on weekdays (maybe).
And then there's the postal service. Now, these guys are fine, provided you're only ever receiving junk mail and bank statements. However, the moment you need to have a parcel delivered... you get a little card saying "Sorry, you were out", as if that comes as a surprise to them. (Perhaps it does - I've noticed that the delivery is getting later and later in the day.)
Still, that would be fine. All you have to do is go and pick it up at the collection centre, which is only a couple of miles away. And which is only open... Actually, that's not true. It opens at 7:30 and stays open until lunchtime, six days a week. So, it's a hassle to go during the week, but it is possible. And it's also possible to go on a Saturday, which is nice.
Or it would be, if there were any parking nearby. But no! There are various supermarkets around, but they are for customers only, and you can't get out without either buying something or paying for the parking. And then there are the pay-and-display car parks.
So, I went to one of those, intending to pay for the smallest possible length of time, get in, and get out again. Of course, the smallest possible length of time is 2 hours, at a cost of £1.50, and the total length of time it took me to get my parcel was seven minutes. (Of course, the pay and display charges start at exactly the same time as the collection centre opens. Anything else wouldn't be sporting.)
I'm not terribly happy about that. I'm just hoping that the parcel with the other half of my delivery is thin enough to fit through my door.
And then there's the postal service. Now, these guys are fine, provided you're only ever receiving junk mail and bank statements. However, the moment you need to have a parcel delivered... you get a little card saying "Sorry, you were out", as if that comes as a surprise to them. (Perhaps it does - I've noticed that the delivery is getting later and later in the day.)
Still, that would be fine. All you have to do is go and pick it up at the collection centre, which is only a couple of miles away. And which is only open... Actually, that's not true. It opens at 7:30 and stays open until lunchtime, six days a week. So, it's a hassle to go during the week, but it is possible. And it's also possible to go on a Saturday, which is nice.
Or it would be, if there were any parking nearby. But no! There are various supermarkets around, but they are for customers only, and you can't get out without either buying something or paying for the parking. And then there are the pay-and-display car parks.
So, I went to one of those, intending to pay for the smallest possible length of time, get in, and get out again. Of course, the smallest possible length of time is 2 hours, at a cost of £1.50, and the total length of time it took me to get my parcel was seven minutes. (Of course, the pay and display charges start at exactly the same time as the collection centre opens. Anything else wouldn't be sporting.)
I'm not terribly happy about that. I'm just hoping that the parcel with the other half of my delivery is thin enough to fit through my door.
Monday, June 02, 2008
In pursuit of spectacular mediocrity
We entered our second competition of the season on Sunday. It would be an understatement to say it was a somewhat disappointing day.
The seeds for the disaster to come were sown last week, when I switched on the TV to watch something (possibly "Pushing Daisies", or perhaps "Blade Runner") to find "The One Show" doing a feature on sublock, and how it just wasn't as effective as the bottles claimed. Of particular note was their assertion that a person was supposed to put on a full sixth of a bottle every two hours. This came as something of a surprise.
Now, I loathe sunblock. Truly, it is just awful. It's slimy, and sticky, and unpleasant, and if I wear it with my contact lenses in, I have to wash my hands immediately after putting it on, or else be blinded by my own sunblock. And, of course, it's waterproof, so the washing of the hands is something of an ordeal in itself when on a beach with plenty of water but no soap around.
So, I try hard to avoid situations where I might have to wear it, either by hiding indoors when the sun is about, or by wearing black from head to foot, thus not having to wear it. But, as we know, at the last competition I got badly sunburnt.
(Keen readers of this blog will have noted a comment in an earlier post about a "The One Show"/sunblock rant. That was it there.)
Anyway, Saturday was a gloriously sunny day, which I therefore spent indoors, venturing out only twice, to wash the car and to mow the lawn. (I would have been meeting friends for WFRP, but that got cancelled.)
Sunday downed bright and sunny, and I woke early to get ready for the competition. After my morning shower, I proceeded to apply a sixth of a bottle of suncream to face, neck, shoulders, arms and knees. Then I thoroughly washed my hands (on account of having contacts in), and put my uniform on. I packed a bag for the day, and left the house (cunningly leaving my wallet behind, but in the event I didn't need any money, so that was okay).
En route to the bus, I met a guy who lives across the road, who commented that it was a nice day for it. Anyone care to guess what happened next?
Anyway, the trip to Markinch was okay but rather uncomfortable. Bus trips are never nice when it's too hot. We got there, hung around for a while, and then left the bus to go to the tuning area.
At this point, it started to rain, lightly at first and then heavily. Oh, yes, having gone to the trouble of applying sunblock, I proceeded to get rained on.
But the story gets even more amusing. See, rain not being an unknown phenomenon in Scotland, we have invested in long waterproof capes. These are highly effective at keeping the rain off. And, having had it drilled into me quite thoroughly when I was ten, I take the cape with me whenever I'm out at the band, even if the sun is blazing. So, I had packed the cape in my bag in the morning. Huzzah!
It was back in the bus.
We took cover under a passing tree, and completed tuning up. We were ready.
The band went on to perform really badly, rather worse than the previous competition in Dunbar. Basically, we started far too quickly, and although the rest of the tune was then played correctly, it was just far too fast, and there was nothing we could do to fix that. There was additionally the 'bad blowing' problem that has been our bane for years, which occurs when people don't keep sufficient pressure on the bag, causing notes to drift up and down.
So, we came off the park, and the pipe major gathered the band, livid at the performance. He proceeded to enquire just what we were playing at (not in quite those words, right enough). We then returned to the bus, and an uncomfortable wait for the march-past, and the results ceremony. (We came last of course. That's not really a factor in the rest of the story.)
A couple of hours later, the rain having ceased, I went for a wander. On returning to the bus, I found the pipe major standing just outside the bus talking to the mother of one of our pipers. I found this most curious, since said mother had not actually travelled with us. Something was going on.
Still, not wanting to be nosy, I proceeded into the bus, to hear the speculations.
In the event, it turned out that my first instinct was correct. The girl in question (or perhaps her brother) had taken exception to the pipe major's comments, and called her mother. Said parent proceeded to drive up to Markinch to collect her children, and to tell the pipe major just what she thought of him. At this time, it seems likely that the girl will be leaving the band as a consequence of this. (There is some speculation that the mother wanted her to leave anyway, in order to move her to a bigger/more successful band. This may be true, but begs the question: why not just go? It's not like we have any hold on her.)
So, thoughts...
The next competition isn't for six weeks. I don't think I care.
The seeds for the disaster to come were sown last week, when I switched on the TV to watch something (possibly "Pushing Daisies", or perhaps "Blade Runner") to find "The One Show" doing a feature on sublock, and how it just wasn't as effective as the bottles claimed. Of particular note was their assertion that a person was supposed to put on a full sixth of a bottle every two hours. This came as something of a surprise.
Now, I loathe sunblock. Truly, it is just awful. It's slimy, and sticky, and unpleasant, and if I wear it with my contact lenses in, I have to wash my hands immediately after putting it on, or else be blinded by my own sunblock. And, of course, it's waterproof, so the washing of the hands is something of an ordeal in itself when on a beach with plenty of water but no soap around.
So, I try hard to avoid situations where I might have to wear it, either by hiding indoors when the sun is about, or by wearing black from head to foot, thus not having to wear it. But, as we know, at the last competition I got badly sunburnt.
(Keen readers of this blog will have noted a comment in an earlier post about a "The One Show"/sunblock rant. That was it there.)
Anyway, Saturday was a gloriously sunny day, which I therefore spent indoors, venturing out only twice, to wash the car and to mow the lawn. (I would have been meeting friends for WFRP, but that got cancelled.)
Sunday downed bright and sunny, and I woke early to get ready for the competition. After my morning shower, I proceeded to apply a sixth of a bottle of suncream to face, neck, shoulders, arms and knees. Then I thoroughly washed my hands (on account of having contacts in), and put my uniform on. I packed a bag for the day, and left the house (cunningly leaving my wallet behind, but in the event I didn't need any money, so that was okay).
En route to the bus, I met a guy who lives across the road, who commented that it was a nice day for it. Anyone care to guess what happened next?
Anyway, the trip to Markinch was okay but rather uncomfortable. Bus trips are never nice when it's too hot. We got there, hung around for a while, and then left the bus to go to the tuning area.
At this point, it started to rain, lightly at first and then heavily. Oh, yes, having gone to the trouble of applying sunblock, I proceeded to get rained on.
But the story gets even more amusing. See, rain not being an unknown phenomenon in Scotland, we have invested in long waterproof capes. These are highly effective at keeping the rain off. And, having had it drilled into me quite thoroughly when I was ten, I take the cape with me whenever I'm out at the band, even if the sun is blazing. So, I had packed the cape in my bag in the morning. Huzzah!
It was back in the bus.
We took cover under a passing tree, and completed tuning up. We were ready.
The band went on to perform really badly, rather worse than the previous competition in Dunbar. Basically, we started far too quickly, and although the rest of the tune was then played correctly, it was just far too fast, and there was nothing we could do to fix that. There was additionally the 'bad blowing' problem that has been our bane for years, which occurs when people don't keep sufficient pressure on the bag, causing notes to drift up and down.
So, we came off the park, and the pipe major gathered the band, livid at the performance. He proceeded to enquire just what we were playing at (not in quite those words, right enough). We then returned to the bus, and an uncomfortable wait for the march-past, and the results ceremony. (We came last of course. That's not really a factor in the rest of the story.)
A couple of hours later, the rain having ceased, I went for a wander. On returning to the bus, I found the pipe major standing just outside the bus talking to the mother of one of our pipers. I found this most curious, since said mother had not actually travelled with us. Something was going on.
Still, not wanting to be nosy, I proceeded into the bus, to hear the speculations.
In the event, it turned out that my first instinct was correct. The girl in question (or perhaps her brother) had taken exception to the pipe major's comments, and called her mother. Said parent proceeded to drive up to Markinch to collect her children, and to tell the pipe major just what she thought of him. At this time, it seems likely that the girl will be leaving the band as a consequence of this. (There is some speculation that the mother wanted her to leave anyway, in order to move her to a bigger/more successful band. This may be true, but begs the question: why not just go? It's not like we have any hold on her.)
So, thoughts...
- I'm still not sure whether it is better to play your very best, and still come last, or whether it's better to play far worse than you'd hoped, and thus let yourself down.
- I still really hate pipe band politics. They're killing this band.
- I agree with what the pipe major said, and the terms in which he said it. I perhaps would have waited until tonight, however. I'm also not sure how much longer he's going to be able to continue in the role - things just don't seem to be going right.
- Spare me psycho mothers.
The next competition isn't for six weeks. I don't think I care.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Odd...
Many moons ago, I commented in a blog post about the "five-a-day" thing for vegetables, and about how spinach contains very different nutrients from sweetcorn. Really, I did, back in 2006, in a post entitled "Something that has been bothering me for some time".
Anyway, a few weeks ago, one of the supermarkets started a series of adverts about fruit and veg, claiming that not only should you eat five-a-day, but you should also try to vary the colours of the fruit and veg.
The pseudo-science behind this is that the colour of fruit and veg is determined by the chemical composition, so choosing a wide range of colours, is a quick shorthand for eating a wide variety of nutrients.
My reaction to these adverts was, "Oh come on! Suddenly, it's not enough that we eat the mandated five, but now we have to vary the colours too?"
Then I found myself checking the history of my blog to cull any 'draft' posts, only to discover that I had made note of this need two years ago. Oops.
Anyway, a few weeks ago, one of the supermarkets started a series of adverts about fruit and veg, claiming that not only should you eat five-a-day, but you should also try to vary the colours of the fruit and veg.
The pseudo-science behind this is that the colour of fruit and veg is determined by the chemical composition, so choosing a wide range of colours, is a quick shorthand for eating a wide variety of nutrients.
My reaction to these adverts was, "Oh come on! Suddenly, it's not enough that we eat the mandated five, but now we have to vary the colours too?"
Then I found myself checking the history of my blog to cull any 'draft' posts, only to discover that I had made note of this need two years ago. Oops.
Ouch
For the past couple of weeks, my typing has been suffering from an unusually high rate of typos and other errors. Plus, the rate has slowed considerably, and the whole experience has become rather frustrating. The reason for this is that the ring finger on my left hand has started to cramp up quite badly.
This is almost certainly a mild RSI, and should be easy enough to remedy by resting the finger for a couple of weeks.
What isn't quite so good is that the band have their second competition of the season on Sunday, and so there is no resting of the finger until after that.
All in all, the timing is rather unfortunate.
This is almost certainly a mild RSI, and should be easy enough to remedy by resting the finger for a couple of weeks.
What isn't quite so good is that the band have their second competition of the season on Sunday, and so there is no resting of the finger until after that.
All in all, the timing is rather unfortunate.
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