Apart from specific locations, I think of Snowdonia in terms of its peaks & mountain ridges but only have a rough idea of how its valleys are orientated & interlinked. In total contrast, my mental map(s) of the Northern English national parks are based on valleys, and I have a less clear idea about the relative locations of specific hills.

For example, I think of Cwm Idwal as being close to the Llanberis Pass, as it's just the other side of the Glyders. On foot, anyway – I wouldn't like to have to cycle from one to the other, via Capel Curig or Bethesda.

In a couple of hours, I'll be heading off to the Duddon Valley in the Lakes. In my mind, that's quite a remote location, but I see on the map that it's only separated from Coniston by one ridge (an entirely manageable walk, which I might well do tomorrow) and is only two ridges away from Wasdale, which in turn I normally consider about as accessible as the moon.

I suspect that's a result of how I've encountered them. My knowledge of Snowdonia developed in my teens and whilst at University, when I was reliant on transport from my mother and various walking groups; I frequently determined routes we took on the hills, but rarely the roads we followed to get to the hills. Those visits were also invariably day trips; I think I've only camped in Snowdonia once.

Conversely, the majority of my visits to the Lakes have been to camp with friends, so valleys have been at least as significant to us as peaks. The majority of my visits to the Dales have been by bike, so again valleys have been important (and hills frequently to be avoided!) and navigation on roads has been far more relevant than on footpaths.

I suppose it's merely an idle observation, but it's also a fundamental aspect of my 'world-view'. One consequence is that I think of Snowdonia as a spiky, fairly bleak area, because I've mainly been aware of the uninhabited uplands, whereas I consider my local national parks to be working landscapes, because I've encountered the villages, farms and people.

I'm particularly aware of this abroad, where I've frequently felt ashamed to be associated with boorish Brits – I've preferred to speak (fragmentary) German to H. whilst in Prague or Madrid rather than reveal my nationality to locals. It was particularly bad in Prague, where the only raised voices, without exception, were English. In Paris this past weekend, we encountered a striking number of small children in public, but the only ones running around unchecked were shrieking in English.

And it's not only 18-25 stag/hen groups or irresponsible parents, either – the BBC reports that over-55s are becoming a problem, too.

All very emotive stuff, and no doubt anathema to the cosy fantasies of little Englanders who dream of a 1950s idyll (which barely existed), of drinking lashings of ginger beer on the emerald village green, chatting to the local policeman next to the red telephone box and the thatched cottage with roses around the door.

Back in the real world, 2,500 of 14,000 post offices are closing because people aren't using them. The romantic illusion of a village with a vibrant community spirit, currently thriving but which will be destroyed when the bustling post office closes, is absolute rubbish. Several of the 'threatened' offices serve less than ten customers per week; in many cases considerably fewer.
I don't doubt that those two or three people, possibly elderly, who'll have to travel 3-4 miles to the nearest remaining post office or obtain the same services by other means may experience rather major inconvenience, but if they're an office's entire weekly customer base, it's ludicrous to retain it. Much as I value individualism over collectivism, the state can't, and shouldn't, afford such extravagance.

[Update 15:16:
Here in the Lancaster area, the remotest two of eight post offices to be closed are to be replaced by a two-day-per week 'outreach' service, but the local newspaper's report exhibits the same unrealistic attitude as the Guardian's.

That's my overarching point: people seem to like the idea of their cosy local post office far more than the mundane reality of an office which stands near-empty for most of the week; they don't use the post office, but find it somehow comforting that it's there.]

[Update 11/03/08: Another BBC article, about branch closures in Wales, summarises some of the Post Office's attempts to minimise the impact.]

I openly assert (not 'admit', as that implies wrongdoing), that I've tried a range of drugs over the years, though nothing illegal within recent memory and I no longer drink. My choice, and I certainly have no moral objections to drugs. However, I found the 'mind-expanding' aspect totally illusory: things might feel more profound in the moment of feeling them, but they're not. Really – they're not. Trust me; I have been there, though I grew out of solipsism fairly quickly.

Likewise at concerts: marijuana and alcohol might be 'fun', but they didn't genuinely enhance the music (for me). I found that I enjoyed some concerts whilst at the concert, but had no recollection of setlists, etc., afterwards, or even whether the music was any good. Cannabis & concerts was very much a failed experiment for me, and as I've said before, I attend concerts to ignore the crowd and listen to the music, not 'to party' or to 'get inside the experience (man)', so I stopped drinking at concerts well before making the decision to stop drinking.
It's the difference between wanting to appreciate the music and remember it weeks later, and wanting to solely live in the moment, for the transitory thrill. I'm not saying one is 'better' than the other, but I choose the former.

The trigger for cutting alcohol out of concerts was a Fish show on the 'Field Of Crows' tour (Liverpool Academy, 05/04/04). I remember the bar, Fish walking on stage... and absolutely nothing else until the walk back to the railway station. What a waste.

Whatever; so long as other people's head expansion doesn't block my view of the stage and I don't have to partake of their drugs (i.e. no smoking in concert venues, cannabis or otherwise), I'm not bothered what they do.

Specifically, it fascinates me that people of my grandparents' generation apparently believed that 'cold' was a thing, to be blocked out by walls, windows & thick clothes. The reverse is true, of course: 'cold' is the absence of heat, and insulation is to keep heat in, rather than cold out.
Think about that for a moment. They believed that when one touches a cold surface, 'cold' is coming into one's body, rather than heat being drawn out.

Cycling to work this morning, though, I could see their point. Passing patches of heavy frost, it did seem as if they were radiating cold: the leg nearer the frost felt colder than the other, exactly like I was passing the negative of a fire. Weird sensation – easily rationalised, but I can see how people interpreted it differently.

There's a beautiful example of woolly-mindedness in the survey results: 15% of respondents wrongly believed that buying fair trade products would diminish their carbon footprints. Aw. Bless.

Of those 'top five un-environmentally friendly "sins"' identified by the survey (for car manufacturer Saab, if that's significant):

• 30% of respondents admitted they should keep a closer watch on domestic energy consumption.
  I think I do fairly well. I rarely heat my house, and certainly not unless multiple fleeces and pairs of socks fail – I don't try to reproduce June conditions in December, and never want to be 'cosy'.
• 29% of respondents admitted to using transport when walking is an option.
  I don't drive anyway (I can, but my lifestyle doesn't really require a car), but I use my bike daily.
• 28% of respondents admitted to cleaning with non-environmentally friendly products.
  The products I buy anyway may well be formulated to minimise their environmental impacts (let's lose the childishly-emotive term 'environmentally-friendly' too, eh?), but I don't specifically chose products on that basis.
• 27% of respondents admitted to boiling a kettle full of water when making only one cup.
  That'd be alien to me.
• 20% of respondents admitted to never recycling.
  As would that. I recycle everything but food waste and blended plastics, the former because I don't have space for composting (and my table scraps routinely contain meat) and the latter ameliorated by buying less plastic packaging in the first place.

An artist who wishes to be popular does indeed need some level of market awareness, but I strongly disagree that art must by definition be audience-orientated. Art may be partially defined as 'that which inspires an intellectual/emotional reaction', but it's not necessary for the artist to preempt or define the reaction nor, therefore, who will experience that reaction.

I'm all for commercial competition, but I feel that price cuts should come out of the retailers' profits rather than being borne by the suppliers.

Ultimately, the power is in the wrong place. If milk producers formed a cartel and dictated the price at which they'll sell to retailers, somehow I wouldn't mind so much.
If the retailers passed on the increase (absolute, not proportionate!) to customers, fair enough, though I might well favour from the retailer willing to accept the lowest profit margin. And if that means supermarkets, genuinely outcompeting corner shops, that's fine with me – I'm not inherently anti-supermarket.

Even within the last week, I've read comments by Alan Moore (link forgotten...) and Neil Gaiman critical of the phrase.

However, there's one simple, overwhelming reason I prefer 'graphic novel': the ones I choose to read aren't remotely comic. I suppose there's a macabre humour in parts of 'Maus', 'Gemma Bovary' or 'The Sandman', but they're not laugh-out-loud funny, and probably wouldn't interest me if they were.

That's no criticism of comics which are comedic – I object as much as anyone to the suggestion that there are 'comics' for the proles and 'graphic novels' for the intelligentsia, and 'serious' doesn't equate to 'better' – but I simply don't seek that type of amusement.

Stated simply, presenting stories as pictures with speech balloons is a medium, not a genre – the form and content don't determine one another. I feel that distinction is clear under the title 'graphic novel', whereas a non-comedic 'comic' is counter-intuitive.

*: I'm not picking those trades at random – their web editors really are present today. Protestors could have a field-day....

[Well, that stated the blindingly obvious...]

It was a curious gap in my vocabulary which had previously been filled perfectly well. It's happened before (frequently, when I'm tired, but rarely for long), and I know not to force it. It'll pop back if I take it by surprise.

And it has: 'consists'. Simple, but totally inaccessible until a few minutes ago.

I don't want to 'indulge' myself.

This isn't asceticism; what my mother would crudely term 'being miserable'. I see no inherent virtue in self-denial – one might indeed feel 'miserable' if one wanted something yet resisted/denied the desire. However, I don't see any potential unhappiness in not having something one didn't want anyway.

I gain no pleasure, guilty or otherwise from 'indulging' myself, or 'spoiling' myself. Perhaps it's an offshoot of my personal morality: if there isn't anything I 'shouldn't' do (within reason) or buy, then there's no frisson to be gained by 'being naughty'. If I want a CD, I can afford a CD, so I'll buy a CD. There's no "I shouldn't really... oh, go on, then". If a premium-priced crayfish & rocket sandwich catches my eye when I'm choosing lunch, I might buy it, but not as some sort of gift to myself.

I have major trouble comprehending the concept of 'comfort buying': buying to feel better about oneself. Frankly, I think that's pathetic.
It would be utterly alien for me to think "I'm having a bad day; I'll have a frivolously expensive coffee to make me feel better". It wouldn't. The caffeine might have some effect, but not the fact of having spent additional money on myself.

Excellent idea. That might silence the Home Secretary.

Home ownership is a privilege, not a fundamental right. The right to shelter is one thing, and certainly is an issue of social-provision, but not ownership of that shelter. I fully support state subsidies in the rental sector, but house ownership is an aspirational luxury and a matter between the individual & his/her bank manager – I don't consider that the state has any duty to help buyers enter the market.
Hain is suggesting a very odd variety of socialism: take from the 'rich' (actually the ordinary bourgeoisie) not in order to benefit the proletariat but to assist those at an earlier stage of the bourgeois lifecycle in the acquisition of private possessions (quite literally, to render proles bourgeois).

Compare this to state health care: the NHS would rightfully pay for a hip replacement, but not some non-essential* variety of cosmetic surgery. People need pain-free mobility, but don't need perky nipples. Vanity is a private-sector topic.

That's one issue. Another is the way Hain proposes to help first-time buyers: by obliging existing home owners to make a compulsory charitable donation.

Buying a house is a financial transaction like any other: the seller charges whatever the market will bear, and the burden of meeting that price is the buyer's. Can't afford: can't have. Why should the seller pay any of the buyer's costs? For the 'warm fuzzies' of community-spiritedness? Why should I care whether "young people get on the housing ladder", never mind make a personal donation to that cause?

Apart from that basic illogicality, it seems especially unfair that the same assistance wasn't available to existing homeowners when they were first-time buyers, which means they'd be paying stamp duty twice on the same property.
Hain says that "a move like this would be revenue-neutral, but would be an enormous boost to young people", but consider that again: it would have no effect on government income, as stamp duty would still be paid into the Treasury, but it wouldn't exactly be 'revenue-neutral' for private sellers.

If, if, there's any argument for the government assisting new buyers into the housing market (and I don't doubt it would help the overall economy), how about the government bearing the cost itself by reducing or foregoing stamp duty for first-time buyers, rather than penalising sellers? Oh, no; that simply wouldn't do, would it?

There is a simple way round this for sellers: raise the asking price to cover the cost of stamp duty, so the buyer pays it anyway. I know that's what I'd do.

*: I do mean purely elective cosmetic surgery, of course – I fully acknowledge that there's essential, corrective cosmetic surgery too, which is an entirely legitimate area of state health care.

The key point is that Dimbleby doesn't emphasise the Britishness; his series is about stunning architecture which just happens to be in the UK. The latter aspect becomes apparent without needing to be stressed. Very British.

For the sake of my blood pressure, I'm not going to rant about the proposed 'Britain Day', but a few brief thoughts:

• It's supposed to be about Britain as a whole, emphatically not only England, so 23 April and the State Opening of Parliament are inappropriate dates. An English 'national' day is of no greater relevance to non-English Brits like me than 4 or 14 July. If, as I expect, the event becomes hijacked by the English, it will actually decrease the (mythical) unity of the UK.
• I don't like the idea of commemorating the dates of military events such as Trafalgar, Waterloo or D-Day. Saying 'the UK is great' is one thing, but saying 'the UK is better than x, and we proved it in blood' is quite another.
• The masses might like an additional statutory holiday (I wouldn't), but I doubt so many will be interested in specific community-orientated events; they'll merely be in favour of an extra day to use as they wish.
• The traits to be celebrated are community spirit and loyalty to the state. **** that.

As I've said before in the context of flags, it's simply not British to affirm 'Britishness'; by its very nature British national pride is understated. It's not something we shout about, and certainly not something to impose on immigrants.

At the unofficial Porcupine Tree Forum, one writer has a slightly different, very credible, interpretation:

Apart from the last sentence, of course. Ready availability of music doesn't necessarily diminish or trivialise it, and I can enjoy a CD fom Amazon just as much as one which has been annoyingly difficult to obtain.
More so, in some cases – some music is rightfully obscure.

I think this overlaps with the urge for exclusivity: to be a fan of a band no-one else knows, or to have an album no-one else owns; to be able to self-affirm that 'I'm special, me'. Kind of childish, really.

There's also something almost religious about the 'questing' urge and the thought that anything worthwhile needs to hard-won. And I'm atheist.
Seriously; there's more to atheism than being certain there's no 'higher being'; it's a world-view, with a distinct value-system independently developed by each individual. To me, it's not about living virtuously or deserving anything, and it's about the content of an album, not the means by which it was obtained.

Does anyone else find such names deeply depressing? If I loathed my routine life to the extent of advertising the fact in 15cm-high letters, I think I'd be inclined make changes now rather than begrudgingly endure the remaining ~30 years until I retire.

Maybe it's not only narrowboat owners; maybe they're only the visible ones because the 'tools' of other pastimes aren't customarily named. Perhaps if there was a tradition of naming one's car, golf trolley or hang glider, a lot more mundane misery would be apparent.

I could give a plenary talk on the concept of community within about two seconds:

"Community? **** that."

I'm going to love the conference, aren't I?

I disagree; I don't believe special needs legislation should be abused to impose a lowest common denominator on everyone. I don't believe all TV broadcasting should be 'family friendly' just in case a child is watching (that's the parents' responsibility), and I don't believe national design icons should be banned because a relative minority can't use them. Should the Tower of London be torn down because it has steps?

I'm certainly not saying provision for the disabled should be neglected, but that can't be reasonably alleged here: a small number of Routemasters serve sections of two routes in addition to the normal low floor, wheelchair-accessible buses. There is a slight risk that the first bus to arrive at a given moment (only on those two specific routes) won't be accessible to all, but the next one will be.

Accessibility legislation is about improving quality of life for the disabled, and I fully support that (daily – I am a web designer, after all), but not by deliberately diminishing the quality of life of those without disabilities.

• Renovation of the art-deco Midland Hotel in Morecambe is taking longer than planned, so the opening date has been postponed. Because of a desire to open at the key part of the season, I believe the delay will be a year.
  The official reason is that Urban Splash want to do the job properly/authentically, but the real reason is obviously that they're stalling and want to turn the hotel into apartments with an associated retail development. Obviously – uninformed speculation in the local free paper's letters page proves it.
• As I've already mentioned, Bruntwood, the owners of Afflecks Palace, Manchester have failed to commit to keeping the building open in its present form, though they have tried to speak to the operating company/committee.
  Obviously that means the independent retailers are to be kicked out in favour of national chains or the building is to be redeveloped as luxury apartments. That might even be true, but why presume a failure to communicate proves a certain intention without the slightest supporting evidence?

One needs to accept that there mightn't be a neat story, and that x mightn't automatically mean y. This mindset somehow seems related to religiousness: a desire to find meaning in chaos.

It's a loaded statement, but might atheism lead to greater rationality in other areas? If one has understood that there's no divine narrator, and s*** just happens irrespective of some mythical overarching plan, one might be more willing to believe that x means x, and y is an entirely different issue, to be addressed separately.

Food might be organic and ethical, but it's quite possible for ethical food to be non-organic and for ethical problems to be associated with organic food. They're overlapping but independent parameters.

Yet, as the Guardian reports, the Organic Church (okay, the Soil Association) now wishes to withdraw their recognition from produce grown according to their rules but abroad, on the principle that "air travel's bad, m'kay?"

I fully agree that food miles is an important issue, but it's an entirely different issue, and not one in which the Soil Association has any remit.
It could be argued that they do a good job in regulating the very specific parameters of their core business, but it has to be remembered that they merely certify organic food, nothing else, and are certainly not arbiters of overall righteousness.

Don't. Just don't. It's too dangerous, and the longer-term consequences of getting it wrong outweigh the transitory benefits of getting it right (and there'll always be a nagging doubt that you didn't really get it right).

As I've mentioned before, there is one way to succeed: by shopping together, with the supervision of the recipient. Perhaps this mightn't be practical for those who celebrate the traditional commercial/family christmas, but I drastically prefer the alternative arrived at by H & I: we don't see one another over the 'core' period of 24-26 December, spending that time with our families. We then do our 'christmas' shopping together during the following week (if H is in the UK at all) or during the January sales. It's almost a matter of each shopping for him/herself and the other paying the bill. Stated so baldly, that sounds unromantic, but somehow it isn't, and it strips away the infuriating artifice of the established system, rendering the whole 'holiday' almost bearable.

Incidentally, please don't blame me for the title. I think M&S coined the phrase.

I've always been sympathetic to Plaid Cymru; they're the only party I've ever voted for in an election, as opposed to giving my vote to the least-disliked option i.e. voting against the Conservatives and Greens.

Almost as an extension of that idea, in addition to my pro-Wales opinion, I'd have to acknowledge a very minor sense of being anti-England (note: not pro-Welsh and anti-English – there's a vital difference); i.e. there's an extent to which I'm opposing London's governmental and cultural metrocentricity as much as supporting Welsh independence.

Simon Jenkins, writing in the Guardian, argues that if the Scottish wish true independence (not the 'devolution' cop-out), the central British government has no right to obstruct it; indeed, that it'd be hypocritical to do so. And I agree entirely.

Incidentally, the Guardian's home page promotes the article as 'Simon Jenkins: Let Scotland have its independence', which seems to reveal the usual complacency. Scottish independence isn't a gift to be given or withheld by the Westminster government, it's a right, to be exercised (or not, if that's their preference) by the people of Scotland.

When the 'Individual-i' logo was first launched, I bought a t-shirt, but in hindsight that's about as ridiculous as the rally and placards. Showing support (financial, by buying merchandise, and public, by wearing it) is ostentatious participation in a collective campaign, and hence self-contradictory. Additionally, the design is supposed to read as 'I Support Individual Rights', but the 'I' is the 'Individual-i' icon, and the shirt could read as an invocation to 'Support Individual Rights', beneath a logo, which is hardly in keeping with a 'think for yourself' ethos.

Which explains why I have a barely-worn T-shirt taking up shelf space, mildly annoying me....

I'm slightly joking, of course – individualism isn't about about rejecting collectivism (read what it is about), but it's certainly not easy to sell.

I totally, totally oppose this. What a doctor does in his or her private life is entirely private, and no-one else's business unless it directly affects his or her job. End of subject.

It's said that:

Beyond the sensationalism implicit in the article's opening paragraphs, the underlying story isn't quite so invasive, and addresses genuine issues of patient protection and acceptable social behaviour.
For example, it's reasonable for doctors to carefully consider the appropriateness of sexual relationships with vulnerable ex-patients, and to avoid viewing p*rnography at work. That's somewhat less alarmist than the Guardian's initial claim that:

Is that really true? Anywhere other than the USA? Having two taps is certainly the norm in the UK – or always was. Oddly enough, I'm not a plumbing connoisseur, and tend not to take especial notice of public/domestic sink configurations, but I'm not aware of mixer taps having taken over to the extent of being considered standard here.
Not that I'd complain if they did; it is a superior design.

This makes me feel old.
Certain innovations define society and individual world-views. For example, there are people – adults – who were born after the invention of the Walkman, who couldn't imagine life without portable music. Those born since the introduction of mandatory seatbelts and airbags would have a corresponding attitude to vehicle safety. I didn't encounter e-mail until I was 21 and the web until my mid-twenties, but some people grew up with them.
Are there really people who never knew a world without mixer taps, too?

Similarly, and for overlapping reasons, my mother is always 'my mother' in the third person and I address her as 'Mother', never 'Mum'. That'd just feel wrong.
Does that imply a certain intellectual distance, even an emotional barrier?

Only imply?

For those unfamiliar with the UK system, Freshers' Week is an additional period before second- and third-years arrive for the start of the 'real' term, during which there are no scheduled lectures.
I loathed mine, and each year I sympathise with the latest sufferers. It's all so pointless, and is an awful introduction to University life. All the stress of leaving home, then one is dumped in a breeze-block cell with absolutely nothing to do for 60-70% of the waking day (the rest involves excessive alcohol and people one will spend subsequent months trying to avoid), for a whole week.

There are certain administrative tasks to be completed, such as registering for courses and paying fees, but they don't require a full week – a long weekend would be more than enough for the essentials, and the rest could be worked around lectures. It'd be so much better if students arrived at University to actually begin their student life, rather than to endure some sort of Limbo.
Personally, I find it (marginally) easier to meet people whilst doing things and thereby having natural conversational openings, rather than having to force small talk with random strangers. Almost all the longer-term friends I made were people on my corridor or on my course, so the artificial initial 'opportunity' to socialise with others was unproductive.

Donald MacLeod at the Guardian agrees.

Before anyone sneers about 'spoilsports': you're missing the point. I'm not suggesting that the drinking and partying shouldn't happen each evening (though my personal inclination would be to stay away), I'm merely saying it should happen during term time, when there's something to occupy the new students' days too.

I was feeling rather smug that none of these retailers' tricks to make customers spend more would affect me, until I noticed one which has succeeded once or twice. Damn.

[Via Boing Boing.]

I wonder whether that's a developmental issue; glitches in 'hard-wiring' synaptic networks, perhaps or, more fancifully, suppressing a sixth sense humans haven't quite evolved to use.

In an off-topic area of a music-related web forum, the topic of Pluto came up in conversation, specifically its demotion from full 'planet' status on Thursday. Most expressed understandable regret – some have an emotional attachment to a component of childhood rhymes – but few accepted the IAU's reclassification. Okay, the voting procedure was seriously flawed, and the chosen definition seems less than definitive, but the issues being questioned were more fundamental(ist).

• That whatever the agreed definition of 'planet', a special case should be made for Pluto, totally irrespective of whether it fits the criteria.
  I say if they already named it a planet, then it's already considered a planet. Too late to change it now. Anything else yet to be named out there would fall under the new 'guidelines' but I don't see what they have against the little guy that they'd strip it of it's planetary title.
  For hundreds of years, it was thought that the Sun travelled around the Earth. People died for that definition of the solar system (which can't be said for the Pluto issue). Should we still work to that definition?

  Science moves on. As our understanding of disparate factors increase and intermesh, and as additional data fill important gaps, theories and definitions change. Seventy-six years ago, when Pluto was discovered, very little was known about the Kuiper Belt and an an error of categorisation was made. It's entirely reasonable to reassess it now.

  Personally, I think the conference compromised too far anyway, to suit personal preferences and invent an artificial niche for Pluto rather than dump it outright. Deciding the result in advance then selecting the parameters to fit it isn't scientific. It's a little like deciding sea water is blue (because everyone knows the sea is blue) then producing a definition to 'prove' blueness is a defining characteristic.

  It was necessary to agree on a rational, generic definition of 'a planet', based on scientific principles, then determine which bodies qualified, applying the definition without prejudice, sentiment or reference to existing public habit (and ignoring nursery rhymes about nine planets). Instead, they seem to have taken the reverse approach, of deciding which bodies qualify then contriving a definition around the selected dataset.

• That this isn't an issue for scientists to decide anyway.
  Scientists are not Gods or all knowing, that is a fact.
  If the qualifications and experience of professional astronomers count for nothing, what's the alternative? Popular acclaim? Is this something the general public can decide, perhaps by a radio phone-in? Perhaps a TV evangelist might like to get involved. Keep those donations definitions coming in, folks.

  To say 'Pluto is a planet because I think of it as a planet' really means 'Pluto is a planet because I want it to be a planet', which is childish, even petulant. It's totally irrational in a subject where rationality is all that matters. This is simply not a matter of gut feeling or moral conviction. It's not even an especially interpretive issue; it's classifying measured data rather than theorising about processes. Faith doesn't come into it.
  I'm afraid I see no way around this: it's an issue for scientists.

Frankly, the issue of whether Pluto is or is not a planet doesn't especially concern me. What I find rather distressing – and that's not really an overstatement – is that seemingly sensible people whose opinions I valued are suddenly revealed to have the mindset of mediaeval adolescents.

I pre-ordered 'Arriving Somewhere...', the forthcoming Porcupine Tree live 2-DVD set this morning. I had considered whether I'd like it at all (that wasn't a given – I rarely find/make time for concert DVDs, and was underimpressed by the 'Deadwing' album), but the financial cost wasn't even a consideration. At the time of writing, I don't even recall the price or postage, beyond noting they were reasonable; I simply provided my debit card details.
There was a time when I'd have had to save for this set, or undergone a much more rigorous process of deciding whether I really wanted it. As a result, it might have meant more to me.

Similarly, I paid £2,000 into my mortgage this morning, in addition to the normal monthly instalment, to pay it off quicker. Ten years ago, that amount could have supported me for three months or so, including food, rent & bills. It's not exactly disposable now, but its sudden unavailability certainly won't affect my daily life.

I hope it's obvious I'm not merely boasting about being well-paid – some would say I'm not! It's simply interesting to note otherwise unregarded life milestones.

If they're the titles, authors of children's books must have access to better drugs than those of the books I read in the mid-1970s.

I'm not entirely joking – there probably has been a societal shift towards surrealism, possibly driven by chemicals.

Several years ago, my mother bought a second-hand electric typewriter (I did say it was several years ago). The ribbon supplied was almost used-up, so one of the very first things she did was replace it with a new ribbon – and read the old one. It was the one-use variety, so everything that had ever been written was clearly visible as one continuous line of text.

As it happens, her 'curiosity' paid-off: she discovered a personals ad, and hence that the seller, a work colleague, was gay. Okay; perhaps the seller was foolish to leave potentially embarrassing material in the typewriter, but who'd have expected a middle-aged clerical assistant to go to the effort of reading a typewriter ribbon? It wouldn't have even occurred to me that private messages were accessible, and if it had, I wouldn't have dreamt of reading them. Fundamentally, I have no interest in knowing the secrets of strangers, and respect friends far too much to pry. It's simply inconceivable.

Growing up in an environment where I had the impression nothing was absolutely private, where anything could be open to covert yet casual scrutiny, I immediately learned to keep anything truly personal, and certainly anything potentially incriminating, within my own head.

This might also help to explain my total opposition to non-essential state imposition on the individual's right to anonymity, such as ID cards.

What sort of mind is so orderly and potentially closed to wider influences as to be able to think "I like X, more than Y but not as much as Z"? What sort of mind would care? Not mine, anyway. I like X and Y and Z, for themselves and without meaningless comparison.

For the sake of argument, I could say crunchy nut corn flakes are my third favourite food. Would that mean that whenever I eat them, I enjoy them through the slight disappointment that they're not garlic prawns or fish & chips? At 07:30?
Or is it a pointless concept?

This is an extension of the even more (primarily) male desire to list for the sake of listing, or to collect merely to have a collection.
I can understand a desire to go hillwalking to see the countryside, challenge oneself & improve fitness, or to go birdwatching to study and appreciate wildlife, or even to study trains to appreciate their design and engineering. However, I can't understand, nor respect, someone who has 'peak-bagged' 200 UK 900m summits, or logged sightings of 200 bird species, or logged 200 pieces of a specific company's rolling stock merely to say he has done so.
Appreciate each for its merits, don't just tick it off a ****ing list.

I'm even a little reluctant to write about it, as there's a risk personally-involved readers might receive two incorrect impressions:
That I inherently dislike such events, and I'd rather not be included in future invitations. Not true. I don't feel that my my instinctive reaction to this one would extend to others.
Therefore, that I'm snubbing this particular couple. Again untrue. We're not as close as we once were, geographically or socially (I don't think we've spoken this year), but J. was my 'evil twin' (or I was his; whatever) in the 1990s & we certainly haven't fallen out. And how could I dislike W.?

It mightn't be precisely the right word, but I 'disapprove' of weddings, intensely but not vociferously. That's not anti-commitment (not something of which I tend to be accused!), it's anti- 'social ritual'. If a couple want to be together, that's great, but exclusively a matter for the couple – it shouldn't be any business of the state or community. The idea that individuals need to obtain ceremonial approval of their private choice offends my individualist values. As an atheist I don't exactly like the religious aspect of church weddings either, but I know that to be empty pantomime, even to most participants, so it doesn't especially bother me.

However, as a good individualist, I acknowledge that others think differently, and if people want the whole marriage certificate, vicar and meringue dress package, it's not for me to impose my negativity on them.
It would be a little too hypocritical of me to attend a church service and nod & smile, but disliking the institution of marriage wouldn't stop me attending a reception.

So it's not that.

I'm a classic introvert, and find most social events hard work. That's not insurmountable, and often I do enjoy myself if I can break the barrier of negative anticipation and force myself to converse. Conversely (heh) it doesn't always work, and empty small-talk with strangers can drive me to inward seething, depression and a swift exit – easy at a College wine party three miles from home, such as last Friday's (I lasted 35 minutes) but difficult when in an unfamiliar city on the wrong side of the Pennines.

That's a risk, but one can't live by fear of what might or might not happen, and on its own, a poor reason not to go. That's not it.

I know almost no-one likely to be attending. I never relish the idea of meeting new people (some thrive on that, but it's just not in my nature), I couldn't cling to the two I definitely know, and the bride & groom would be rather busy. Worse, the remaining people I might recognise would be acquaintances from an earlier phase of my life.
On the whole, it's not those people themselves that I'd rather avoid, it's the associated memories. It'd be all too easy to fall back into the same social roles, especially with dominant personalities, and I don't think I could face that. I didn't like the 1990s me even at the time, and firmly put him aside. That's the acquaintance I wouldn't wish to renew.

That may be the root cause of my instinctive wish to stay away: I don't want to confront myself.
That's not completely it, though – there's a secondary disincentive.

Ordinarily, I'm absolutely fine about Helen & I living in different countries; we're independent people and whilst it's great to exchange e-mails & phone calls almost daily and, er, meet up every couple of months, neither of us would really choose to live as a couple (the fact that I'm uncomfortable about speaking for H. like that merely illustrates our independence). However, for a short period after seeing her, I'm... melancholic (not sure that's the right term), and feel awkward around friends who do live together. I suppose that's to be expected.
As I said, I don't respect formal marriage, and wouldn't remotely wish it for myself. Yet beneath the social artifice, a wedding is a celebration of a relationship (I just don't see why third-parties should be involved) – and a somewhat painful reminder that H. is ~1,800 km (~1,100 miles) away.

That's the general point, but a couple of recent examples seem especially odd; items one wouldn't expect to be advertised on TV, nor marketed in those terms.

A few weeks ago, I bought a red pepper (the vegetable, not the magazine) from Sainsbury's, unpackaged but with a sticker attached. Alongside the barcode, the label identified the item (a pepper? really? I thought it was a potato) and stated 'As Seen On TV'.

I'm glad I spotted that. I was about to buy a green pepper, but swiftly abandoned that proletarian mundanity for the veg of the gods (or celebrities, anyway). Jamie Oliver himself might even use red peppers in his cookery, so I simply must, hoping a little of his stardust might rub off. The extremely remote association between my mate Jamie and I (we both cook with red peppers, you know) might make me even more attractive to women. Hmm. Perhaps Jamie isn't the best example.

Similarly, I noticed a shelf banner (if that's the correct term) in the on-campus bakery today, advertising that their sausage rolls are 'As Seen On TV'.
So what?

I know myself well enough to stay away from blogs, discussion groups, etc. at certain times (though fatigue impairs judgement, too...) in case I snap at people, but why do I react that way? Cannabis and alcohol used to make me similarly sleepy (I don't consume either nowadays), but they also induced a certain warmth towards others which 'real' tiredness doesn't.

I don't think I'm rude to people, merely curt, and not gratuituously – I respond to genuinely stupid or offensive comments or, in an editorial/admin capacity, breaches of policy/best practice. It's just that I'm 'nicer' about it when I've slept properly, and can more readily ignore issues which are, frankly, trivial.

Is it just me? I doubt it, and suspect irritability is a typical consequence of sleeplessness - but why?

The consensus seems to be variations on 'good luck', but somehow that seems to be unduly pessimistic. Rather than "great! you're having a baby!", it implies "I hope it's not too awful and nothing goes wrong".

In itself, that's an understandable sentiment, but in the context of a light-hearted, fairly superficial communal card, shouldn't the negativity go without saying? Does Beth want our congratulations, or reinforcement of her trepidation?

Could this be a cultural issue? There's a common preconception (stereotype?) that when eating in the USA, portions will be massive, so I suppose it's possible to eat until full (and waste whatever's left...). In contrast, in Europe, or at least in my experience here, standard portions are more sensible, and wouldn't routinely defeat a normal person. I've rarely eaten to excess without deliberately going back for seconds or by adding side orders.
I suppose I'm saying that in Europe, one is less likely to be in the position of having too much on one's plate and choosing whether to stop eating; rather, one would have to actively seek more food and keep going.

Needless to say, I'm solely speculating about portion sizes during regular meals – snacking and sedentary lifestyles are different issues.

I'd better stress that this entry is just a thought that occurred to me on reading Zawodny's 'advice' via BoingBoing – it's not a fully-reasoned argument! I'm very aware that it's a partial, maybe naïve observation by someone who's never had a weight problem.
Throughout my twenties I was, if anything, slightly underweight (1.85m and 65 kg) and visibly thin, and in my mid-thirties I'm still on the thin side of 'athletic' (~75kg and more than averagely active). There are are a number of reasons, but the main one, which I might explore in a later entry, is that I have a visceral dislike of excess. Overeating is an alien concept; 'comfort eating' is simply inconceivable.

And that's the key point. Good independent bookshops aren't inherently obsolete, and can provide added value that chains can't, including specialist expertise, individual service and atmosphere.

Some attempt to replicate the national chains' homogenous retail units and promotional tactics without the backing of national distribution networks, influence with publishers and economies of scale. Understandably, they struggle, relying on people 'doing the right thing' by artificially supporting their local bookshops. So far as I'm concerned, merely being small and local is insufficient justification for existence, and relying on customers' charity is an awful business model. Such shops fail.

However, as Stephen Moss, writing in the Guardian, found, bookshops which focus on their strengths and offer a unique environment are surviving, even thriving.

It can't be easy, and wouldn't work for everyone. Specialist is rarely ubiquitous, and it's logical to presume that the days of there being an independent bookshop on every high street are gone. In researching his article, Moss couldn't find a single independent bookshop in central Manchester, and I can't think of one in Lancaster (not counting the specialist sci-fi one, and the less said about that, the better). I don't have a problem with that.

Okay, not an amusingly random enquiry, but I want to comment anyway.

No, recycling isn't a solution; there is no single panacea and it's a mistake to seek one, just as speed cameras are not the single solution to all road safety issues. Recycling needs to be only one of a suite, or in fact a hierarchy, of overlapping measures.

Firstly, consider whether it's really necessary to buy an item or use a resource. It's better to avoid unnecessary usage than to use then worry about disposal. Incidentally, by 'necessary' I don't solely mean 'essential for subsistence' – pleasure and quality of life are important too!

Secondly, wherever practical, reuse an item rather than recycling it or throwing it away. Recycling consumes resources, so is less than ideal; buying once and using twice is better than buying twice and recycling twice. Consider this when selecting items. Additionally, try to buy packaging-efficient refills for existing items.
When travelling in Europe, I'll tend to buy a 500ml (plastic) bottle of Coke on the first day, then repeatedly refill it with tap water on subsequent days.

Then, the third choice, recycle whatever you can. At least in Lancaster, there are limited options (the local authority doesn't accept all categories of recyclables), but I recycle metal cans (90% of which are Coke!), glass (I don't drink alcohol, so don't actually use much glass) and all paper, from the labels on cans & bottles to phone books. The only exception is private correspondence. Plastics are a problem, as I have nowhere (practical) to take them, but I prefer to minimise usage anyway.

Finally, dispose of the remaining materials responsibly. If items must go to landfill, try to crush them small first, to take up less space in the council lorry and in the ground. Living alone, I'd be able to put out one bag for collection every fortnight if it wasn't for smelly food waste.

Isn't this all Green Party hippie sh*t? I don't think so. The Greens peddle a pseudo-religion of environmentalist ethics, and I have nothing to do with them, but I regard this as entirely rational. It's not a moral issue of doing the 'right' thing, just common-sense, even long-term self-interest.

It also works the other way: bypasses reduce traffic volumes through small towns and villages for the benefit of the locals, too. The quality of life is drastically improved if the mediaeval market square isn't a through-route for 44-tonne artics, and if children don't have to cross a continuous stream of traffic to get to school.

Despite ridiculing those who unquestioningly follow sat-nav directions, I'm not inherently opposed to the units. However, I am a little concerned that they give members of the herd an illusion of independence.

When traffic on a bypass begins to build up (not necessarily becoming congested, but reaching a point where congestion could be expected ahead), people might seek an alternative route 'just in case' or simply because they want to play with their sat-nav toys. If more than a few people have the same idea, that could generate significant excess traffic on the very secondary roads the bypass is supposed to relieve. Fifty to 100 fewer cars on a bypass would have negligible impact on throughflow there, but could be a problem on smaller roads, especially as the temptation to divert will be greatest during commuter rush hours which coincide with local school runs.

It's a difficult issue. Of course an individual has the right to choose any reasonable route, even on a whim, but out of consideration for others, should that right be exercised so casually?

I'd agree that there's more 'non-day-to-day' female underwear and limited, er, elaboration in male underwear, but day-to-day underwear of either gender is nothing special (well, to me, anyway), merely utilitarian support and cover. Barring teenagers and fetishists, does anyone find big pants and sports bras sexy?

Don't get me wrong; I do respond to lingerie (as opposed to ordinary 'underwear') in much the same way as any other heterosexual male, but to me and, I suspect, most people, everyday clothes are nothing exotic.
From childhood until I went to University, I was expected to hang out the family's washing, which can only inspire thoughtless familiarity. Doesn't that apply to anyone who grew up with a mother and sister?

*: because it is?

Or rather, imagine that the Earth was in a different astronomical (if that's the right term) situation wherein it became known that the planet will definitely be destroyed at a distant point in the future – call it a million years from now.
It obviously wouldn't threaten anyone alive now, but I wonder how it'd affect individual and collective psyches, simply knowing that there will be an unstoppable end point. Would it influence religions? Technological innovation? Mental health?