Most superficially, though it's certainly not trivial, this office is the warmest place I've been in weeks; I've been struggling to heat my house to 14°C since New Year (uncomfortable when I'm just sitting reading or at my PC) and whilst visiting Plymouth over christmas I was so cold in bed that I took down the curtains as an extra blanket.

It's also a confidence-boost to have to think cogently and quickly, and be able to do so. Events since mid-November have been somewhat depressing, and it's been difficult to muster any drive to do anything. I have no illusions that that's passed – the next stages are particularly daunting – but so long as I can avoid getting stressed, I think work might help.

Personal contact? I doubt it.
Writing about an event yesterday, Neil Gaiman says:

Collectibility? As I qualified above, there's no scarcity value if an author signs thousands of copies during festivals and multi-national signing tours.

Or is it no more than a self-serving souvenir: a token denoting "I was there; I queued for several hours [people do; Neil frequently encounters signing lines of 700+] and I have a signature to prove it".
Not exactly meaningful. It's a lot like people taking photos of themselves in front of the Grand Canyon or Mona Lisa, rather than appreciating the moment and whole point of being there.

Common sense is the ability to react to and process the ordinary.
'Uncommon sense' (okay, the terminology needs work) is the ability to question: to ask 'what if?' or 'does that really follow?' rather than automatically implement the obvious reaction to a situation.

By definition, common sense is, commonly, sensible: the standard, well-rehearsed response will tend to be the most suitable. However, the question still needs to be considered: the self-evident probably is right, but until alternatives are tested (empirically or logically), one doesn't know it's right.

An outcome is the sort of academic research ridiculed by tabloids, producing results the mythical 'down-to-earth common man' could have guessed in a moment. But the intuitive isn't always true: the expected outcome mightn't have been accurate, and rules-of-thumb need to be quantified.

Coincidentally, there's a good example in today's Guardian. Researchers have established that ducks like water, and have been mocked, even accused of wasting £30,000 of public money. Obviously ducks like water – ask a farmer for free, rather than conducting an expensive formal study.
Yet that cursory 'common sense' assumption might suggest that ducks would maximise time spent swimming in a pond, rather than the actual, less-intuitive, result of the research: that they seem to prefer immersion in showers.
And yes, this does have a very practical significance:

When my mother told me, my response was incomprehension: "so what?". I wouldn't have expected any contact, and I don't think K. had either – until my mother distracted her at a vulnerable moment, instilling a sense of grievance that hadn't remotely existed.

Personally, and I think my sister agrees, I don't give a **** about people "doing the decent thing", or being "nice" to colleagues. I'm not 'nice', and the opinions & platitudes of near-strangers who happen to work in nearby institutions wouldn't interest me. Had I been sitting in a hotel room studying, I wouldn't have answered the phone if it had rung.

The only part of that situation that my mother can comprehend is 'sitting in a hotel room, alone in an unfamiliar city', and considers it "sad" and "terrible".
I really wish she'd kept her outdated, collectivist morality to herself, as this wasn't the time to have a discussion about relationships – or the total irrelevance of relationships – with mere acquaintances. Evidently this insight into a world-view I vehemently disdain irritated me, but more importantly it upset my sister when she particularly didn't need distraction.

[Heh. Just noticed the apparent contradiction in rejecting the myth of 'fellowship' whilst engaged in Fellowship exams.]

Why does the main shopping street of Anytown, UK feature so many, seemingly interchangeable (i.e. none seems to occupy a specific niche), shoe shops? Particularly in a recession, I find it difficult to understand how so many, particularly in close proximity, are economically viable.

I've often found that definition-by-external-circumstances slightly odd, but she might be 'right', in a way. Unless actually measuring it, the temperature of one's environment is a matter of perception: I have no greater need to know that my room is at exactly 10°C than my mother has a need to know her kitchen isn't at 3° – merely that I'm cold and she isn't.

A side-effect is that my handwriting has deteriorated, as I'm no longer accustomed to consistently forming those shapes. My 'joined-up' handwriting is frequently illegible even to me, so I invariably use all-capitals (thereby decreasing practice of 'normal' handwriting, causing further deterioration – I think I have to accept it's gone).

I actually like my all-caps style. Kept regular, it wouldn't look out of place on the engineering blueprints I admired as a young child (my father was a draftsman, and brought home scap paper for me to draw on; I spent a lot of time poring over the isometric intricacies of piping networks). It works well at the small sizes I favour, and accommodates lateral compression: If I enlarge the first letter of each word (as I habitually do), ICanCompletelyOmitSpaces.
Yet I don't always use it that way. Typing in all-caps is generally regarded as SHOUTING, and the same could apply to handwriting. I hadn't consciously considered that (this Lifehacker article enlightened me), but I have developed a looser, 'italicised all-caps' style anyway, used for birthday cards, personal notes, etc., in which the horizontal strokes of an initial 'T' or 'L' can sometimes encompass the full width of the word. It's been called "arty"; I suppose an ability to interchangeably write in that way and in a neat 'drafting' style neatly reflects my scientist-by-training, artist-by-inclination development.

Point is (yes, I was wondering whether I'd reach one, too): I do have a personal handwriting style. It's just not remotely the same one as I had fifteen years ago, and the transition was abrupt rather than the gradual evolution I might have expected.

Hmm. Could have done with a couple more full stops there.

I don't discuss work issues socially, and have no wish to take personal issues to work; H. never comes up in conversation with my mother, and vice v... (er, no; bad example. Don't ask.), and when I'm with H., life in Lancaster seems a long way away (it is, if we're in Berlin, Paris, etc., but I mean lifestyle, not location). If I'm the product of my experiences, those I've shared with certain people determine my behaviour in their company. That's hardly a revolutionary observation: I'm different in different company – radically, in some cases.
This separation isn't entirely deliberate, but ordinarily I'm comfortable with it. Yet once they've evolved, one can't break out of the compartments at will, and the barriers to casual intimacy can be a bit upsetting.

In the Lakes last month, someone casually asked "if you had to be an animal, which would it be?" If I was with H. or anyone I knew in Aberystwyth in the early 1990s, my answer would be obvious and unhesitating, but those events & associations – that me – never travelled to Lancaster. With H., it's faded to personal shorthand with different/muted meanings, but if I offered that answer in Seathwaite, it'd have seemed odd, requiring explanation of the source and possibly disinterring a 20-year-old me the 36-year-old doesn't particularly like. So I remained silent; another brick in the wall soundlessly slid into place.

The specific example is utterly trivial and isn't relevant; my point is that I had an opportunity to give people I love a deeper insight into the underlying me (or amalgam of mes). And I faltered.

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, by bike.

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.

[Update 29/10/08: the idea of a 'national day' has been quietly dropped.]

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?

One member of the Group died recently, and a family member wrote to have the automated Group e-mails stopped. Unfortunately, the address he/she used (presumably the only one known) resulted in the notification being circulated to all 500+ members rather than just reaching me, the moderator. Obviously, I took the requested action immediately, and the account in question no longer exists.

However, several people have responded to what was plainly a private message published unintentionally. A number of messages of condolence have been posted, via the Group (i.e. to everyone except the bereaved). Why? Who are the messages for?

Even if the deceased person's account hadn't been closed, and even if the family felt some strange urge to read messages ostensibly about music trading, would they really wish to receive trite expressions of sympathy from utter strangers?

I don't understand why the messages would be intended for the rest of the Group, either. As I mentioned, this isn't a Group with the remotest 'community spirit'; it's a noticeboard via which strangers meet to perform transactions, not a chatty forum frequented by close friends.

By a process of elimination, it seems to me that the messages are for the senders, to be seen to be doing the sensitive, 'right' thing, and consequently to make them feel good about themselves. Isn't that inappropriately selfish, and a little distasteful?

To cherry-pick two related points:

'Fairly-Odd' had said: "However, you are their teacher, and they're paying to have you show them things, right?" S. didn't rise to the bait, but I will. Students aren't 'paying customers', and don't have the right to demand 'customer service' from lecturers. Academic staff are not here to serve, nor to spoon-feed.

S. teaches an art-based subject that happens to involve computers i.e. the creative application of technology. Her role isn't to teach people how to use computers, or specific packages, but to teach people how to apply those technical skills in a meaningful manner e.g. not how to use Dreamweaver but how to produce quality web design.
Hence, to be regularly asked about mundane technical details is frustrating, especially those a student could solve for him/herself with a bit of experimentation and by reading the manual/integral 'help' facility. That reduces the lecturer to the most basic help desk technician, answering questions the 'user' simply can't be bothered to research for him/herself.

This gets to the very purpose of higher education, and the relationship between a lecturer and a student. The former shouldn't be telling the latter 'the answer', but, more fundamentally, guiding the latter to find 'the answer' for him/herself; teaching the student (how) to think.

Okay, it's mildly amusing, but it's also indicative of people who can't think, or at least articulate their thoughts, in a manner other than the metaphorical or abstract. It can be frustrating.

• Retailers feel able to slap premium prices on such goods, for no justifiable reason. There is no reason to think the objective quality of a Fairtrade item is superior, and the extra profit from the higher prices doesn't go to the producers, so purchasers are merely being taxed for their hippie idealism. I don't object to middle-class smugness being penalised, but flatter myself that I'm less gullible.
• I neither share the stated values nor especially respect them – Fairtrade is tokenism, which I don't believe will have a worthwhile widespread effect.
• I object to the morality of others being imposed on me. Maybe it's irrational, but the very fact of being told what to do repels me.

Prof. Rob Paton of the Open University describes an alternate view, that, even if flawed, Fairtrade exemplifies broader, long-term trends of global governance and social enterprise (see his article for definitions). He may even be right, but firstly, I don't think that justifies participating in a flawed system as a route to 'something better' – fix Fairtrade first – and secondly, discussion of a 'value-based economy' strays into quasi-religious issues of 'right' and 'wrong', and I'm not a believer.

It seems that at last others are starting to question their assumptions, too. This evening the BBC's Money Programme will broadcast an investigation into the market sector. It might be interesting, though I'm conscious that it might just reinforce my prejudices.

Did you know that Nestlé, subject to an international boycott for selling powdered baby milk in developing nations, has Fairtrade status?

I've been reading 'The Science of Discworld' (Terry Pratchett, Ian Stewart & Jack Cohen, 1999) this week, which alternates chapters of a Discworld story with chapters on corresponding topics of popular science. Following the 'narrative' from the Big Bang to the evolution of the Earth and life upon it, it's a very readable introduction to key scientific concepts. It has no patience with creationism, but isn't strident about that; arguments are clearly made explaining that there's no reason to think external intervention was ever necessary – not saying that intervention was impossible, but that the outcome can be fully explained without it. There are no gaps where the religious could cry "Aha! That has to have been consciously designed!"
Conversely, comparison of 'Roundworld' (us), which functions according to scientific 'rules', with Discworld, which runs on narrative imperative, highlights humanity's need for stories.

Somewhere in the book there's a good analogy which makes the idea of a soul, able to transcend physical death, faintly ridiculous, but without the ability to seach for the word 'eggbeater' I don't have much chance of finding it again.

Hang on; I have a slightly photographic memory, and remember the passage's relative location: top of a left-hand page, itself the final page of a 'science' chapter... found it!

Was it misleading to say 'most'? Statistically, I suppose it's a fair statement: of the three options ('yes', 'no' and 'don't know/maybe'), 'yes' received the greatest number of votes.
However, in linguistic terms, does 63% really qualify as 'most'? I'd set the threshold rather higher, personally – perhaps 80% or more.

I don't know; it just feels wrong, somehow.

*: So long as it's a tax on usage i.e. a penny on plastic bags or petrol, not a tax on everyone irrespective of individual usage i.e. a penny on income tax. There needs to be an incentive to use less.

I'm not sure whether the phenomenon stated is really the one observed. Given a choice of 48 previously unknown songs, it's only natural to start with those that others have already rated highly, then perhaps those rated worst (which probably really will be the dross, perhaps with technical inadequacies). It's quite an investment of time to listen to 48 songs, and one will become tired after the first dozen or so, so those in the mid to low range won't receive the same freshness of attention, or mightn't be heard at all if one gives up.

That's the sampling process, which I suppose could influence one's critical choices, but listening to a song because it's already popular isn't quite the same as liking it because it's already popular. Existing popularity undoubtedly increases the chance that a song will be heard, but once heard, I think the chance of liking it is less deterministic.

I know that I've made a point of adding several of the IMDb top 250 films to my DVD Rental queue, partly to catch up on acknowledged classics which have somehow evaded me until now, and partly to discover what others think I should see. That's 'following the crowd', and choosing films because they're already popular, but it doesn't mean I'll like them.

That seems to be supported by the findings described in the latter half of the BBC article. When the subjects were split into eight groups, and could only see the rankings generated within their own groups, songs achieved very different popularity ranks in different groups. However, quality ratings were less influenced by peer grouping, and the same songs did well (or not) in all groups.

Hence, "success was not relative to the quality of the music" or, the depressing converse:

The article invites suggestions for a term to replace 'cyberspace', but I'd argue that the very nature of the conceptual change means there's no longer a need for any specific name for 'virtual space'. I agree with Neil Gershenfeld, Director of MIT's Center for Bits and Atoms (now that's a bad name!), who proposes calling the computer-orientated environment simply 'the world'.

Then again....

At BoingBoing, Cory Doctorow describes cyberspace as the "place of the mind", a concept with which I can identify.
If I'm participating in an online discussion, or reading a blog entry written, published and hosted on the other side of the world, or indeed whilst writing this, my consciousness doesn't really have a meaningful geographical location. Maybe the concept of 'out there' does still apply.
If so, it predates the internet – If I speak to my father in Norway, via a standard 'land line' phone, just as I have done since the 1970s, where is my mind? My full concentration is on the conversation, so it doesn't matter that my head is in the UK.

Hmm. I suspect one could think too hard about such metaphysics – and then where would one be?

A couple of weeks ago, my sister asked me what I'd like for christmas (at least my family tends to consult about presents, rather than make wildly ill-judged guesses).
"Nothing, or the ability to avoid the whole occasion." I explained that I simply don't enjoy the forced jollity and artifice of it all.
"Oh well, let's all be miserable, then." What? What's 'miserable'? Becoming absorbed in a good book or film? Enjoying a walk or cycle ride in the hills? Appreciating a meaningful conversation with close friends and family? Oh, the misery!

And the converse is what? Resenting the waste of ripping shiny paper off things I neither need nor really want, and which, even if I did, aren't quite the ones I would have chosen for myself? Being obliged to slump in front of an hour-long omnibus episode of some crappy soap (and having to consider that 'quality time'), feeling slightly embarrassed beneath a dayglo pink paper hat (more waste of paper)? Being obliged to drink sparkling pink wine then feeling lethargic for the rest of the day? Being pressured to visit relatives whose very existence is an irrelevance to me (and refusing)? Gasping for air in an overheated house (K's a surgeon with bad circulation, so is accustomed to seriously warm operating theatres and living conditions, whereas I choose to barely heat my house)? Sleeping on a sofabed at least a foot shorter than me?

If I liked anything about christmas, and was consciously denying myself pleasure, perhaps to prove a point, that would indeed be 'miserable'. That's what my sister seemed to be implying: denial of pleasure, and that secretly I like it. Not true. All this rubbish genuinely diminishes my enjoyment, even my quality of life; it is reluctant participation that makes me frustrated and yes, miserable.

I do want to spend time with my mother and sister. Fine. But why should we have to engage in utterly contrived activities? I've mentioned my dislike of the 'forced' aspects of a traditional christmas to my mother, too, and received half-hearted agreement: "I know, but we've got to."
Why? Who made it compulsory, and when did I sign-up? Is the price of enjoyable childhood christmases that one has to endure them for the rest of one's life?

Incidentally, if I attempted to deny others their pleasure, that'd be mean-spirited. I don't, so I'm not. I'd never dream of making a big deal out of disliking christmas, as that'd impinge on my mother's & sister's potential enjoyment. I'll just discreetly minimise my involvement. This is another case in which the NRT writing (ranting) this isn't the same NRT as you'd meet in the street.

However, that's not to the exclusion of wider society:

These are all 'background' issues; mostly enabling, but a number of moderate restrictions are quite reasonable. Within these limits, I feel the government should leave me alone, and its agencies shouldn't even be able to identify me without my explicit permission, but I do think the limits need to exist.

Of course, there are those who'll claim otherwise, using fatuous arguments about cameras making roads more dangerous, being exclusively and maliciously used for revenue generation (no road safety aspect whatsoever, only revenue), and impinging on people's 'freedom' to drive fast.
It's often said that when one sees a camera, one glances at the dashboard speedometer, taking one's attention from the road. For a fraction of a second. Far less than, say, adjusting the heater or radio. By that argument, speedometers should be banned.
I won't even address the conspiracy theory about cameras not being remotely intended to improve road safety, only government budgets. And they're installed by agents of the Illuminati, right? The same ones who killed President Kennedy?
The third, libertarian point leads into my next posting; for now I'll just remind people that there is no inviolable 'right' to speed; speeding penalties are fines on illegal actions, not taxes on legitimate activities.

The thing that always frustrates me about the anti-camera lobby is that they argue that cameras aren't 'the answer'; that money should be spent on driver education instead. Of course cameras aren't the one single panacea for all aspects of road safety, but how could anyone deny that speeding is an aspect? A small proportion of accidents can be solely attributable to excess speed, but those with other causes are exacerbated by the speed of vehicles involved. There isn't one single factor which will solve everything, in which all resources should be invested. It's not a matter of cameras or greater driver education, it's cameras and education, and police issues, and other factors.

One point, which overlaps with my views on petitions, relates to the offensive and unproductive nature of coordinated e-mailing campaigns:

• your message will neither be read nor receive a response.
• you will annoy and may intimidate the recipient.
• you will deny other (more legitimate, genuine) correspondents a voice by swamping their contributions within a mail overload which will simply be ignored.

I can appreciate that the requirement to rent, dress, staff and stock shops will boost prices. I can particularly understand that this will be significant for an individual small, independent shop, but a company the size of HMV has the advantage of bulk buying and its own supply network, so the magnitude of the price difference between HMV and Amazon makes limited apparent sense. An extra pound or so would be reasonable, yet the average price of a mainstream current or back catalogue CD album seems to be around £16-17 in HMV Lancaster and around £10-11 at Amazon. Why even consider buying from HMV?

Wouldn't it be better to make deep discounts (I mean routinely, on all items, not one-off sales of excess stock) and maximise sales at break-even prices, rather than alienate customers and create a section of the population who'd no longer even bother to visit HMV? They might be offering wonderful bargains at this very moment, but I wouldn't know, as I've already been driven away by their usual prices.

Apart from the obvious, the part that's hard to accept is that her online presence remains – there are still several photos of a seemingly-happy 'rock chick', and her website (teen sensibilities and all) is still live.

I have difficulty comprehending suicide anyway – I can't conceive of any problem being that bad or inescapable (and I've been pretty low, occasionally), so my dominant emotion right now is as much anger at Arielle's tragic stupidity (in my opinion) as sadness about her death.

It's much the same if I see a child drop an ice-cream cone: I have an extreme empathy with the sense of grief for a pleasure lost by one's own error. It's so bad that if I was in the same situation, I'd rather go without than risk being upset.

Now THAT says a lot about me....

I'd argue that this makes at least as many negative statements about the company (inefficiency in sending it very late, cynicism in making an empty gesture) as positive (generosity in knocking a whole £2 off any purchase in excess of £20 – wahey), and might actually lose the company some customers.

I often buy an 'environmentally-friendly' variety of washing-up liquid, in a biodegradable bottle, but if it wasn't readily available at Sainsburys, or was sold at a premium price, I wouldn't. I certainly wouldn't patronise a wholefood hippie shop (other than in the "aren't you a smug little co-operative?" sense of 'patronise') if that was the only source of such a product.

It's simple common sense to minimise one's impact on the natural (and indeed developed) environment, but it's not remotely an issue of ethics. It's doing something because it's rational, not because it's the 'right' thing to do, which conveys a warm, fuzzy glow of pathetic self-satisfaction.

This is one of my biggest problems with Greens. Their objectives often (okay, sometimes) make sense, but not when their messages are expressed in terms of quasi-religious morality, by the self-righteous.

In theory, it's a reasonable system, but in practice it means graphic designers and similar specialist non-admin staff have to allocate considerable time each week to financial admin, and all such ancillary departments are under pressure to prove their ongoing financial viability.

A further problem is that since everything has a price, departments may be tempted to go without, provide for themselves (good for the overall University, I suppose) or go elsewhere.
For example, English might borrow a function room or lecture theatre from another academic department or college rather than pay for Conferences' dedicated facilities, and use their own teabags and kettle rather than buy-in from Catering, and consequently look less professional to visitors than they might if specialists had been involved.
Similarly, when consumer-level digital cameras are so widespread, few would pay £10 (per use) for professional photography by the Photographic Unit, and websites, leaflets, posters, etc. might look a little amateurish.

One result of ancillary departments seeing declining custom and unchanging costs is that they have to increase their prices, thereby driving away more custom, or close. The real flaws in the system begin to be exposed when a batch of professional photography costs £65 (not including printing), or £75 on CD-R. £10 for a blank disc. I don't think so.

If ancillary services were free at the point of use, to internal users, I'm sure they'd be used more, thereby supporting those support facilities and (re)introducing a greater impression of professionalism to the departments' events and output.

Needless to say, I'm discussing the economic model as a whole, not the specific application of it by any one institution. I just wonder how others operate.

Incidentally, I happen to know that the official publications of the University in question are produced in a different way, so are drastically less affected by this internal market. Publications doesn't charge departments for its services, and there's no question of it cutting corners in terms of graphics, photography and printing. Could this be an admission that when it really matters, the internal market is inadequate?

Heh. Thinking about it, this could be extrapolated to free-market capitalism vs. collectively-managed communism, couldn't it? Nah; simplistic and coincidental.

No smart-arse dodging of the lemma, please - if you don't drink tea, or don't drink it with milk, presume you do, and buying more milk isn't an option.

I tend to do the latter, though I'm going to experiment with the former.

I remember the first time I realised corrective lenses would help me.
I was working on my second undergrad dissertation, on photogrammetry (mapping from aerial photos), and whilst changing lenses in the equipment, I idly held them in front of my eyes and glanced out of the window. Twelve years later I still have perfect recall of the view, from an upper floor of the Llandinam Building (Earth Sciences), UWA to the brick-built Hugh Owen Building (Arts/Library). Brick-built – that's the point. I'd seen that view dozens, maybe hundreds of times, and could see the building clearly, yet I'd never perceived the details of its construction. Having noticed them, I could see the lines of mortar without the lenses.

I suppose I'd call it a 'leap of perception'. Previously, my brain had logged the overall mass of the building and just accepted it without further analysis. The lenses hadn't shown me anything beyond the ability of my unaided eyes. It was as if they improved my ability to not just see, but to observe.
Without my glasses, I might see a tree quite clearly from 30-40m, and appreciate individual branches and even leaves, because I'm specifically looking at them – mentally focused, not just optically. However, I might be totally unaware of a crow perched amongst of them, until it moved, when I'd be able to see it clearly. Wearing glasses, my ability to notice details (pattern recognition?) would have revealed the crow immediately.

I do think this is a side-effect of the mobile phone age. Nowadays there's a blurring of public and private space, which I don't regard as an advance.

Ritual shaving would be a communal event, for the amusement of work colleagues. "Ho, ho, ho, NRT's done something 'wacky' for a good cause."
**** that. I don't do society's little bonding rituals, and have no inclination to amuse near-strangers at my own expense.

There's also a quasi-religious aspect to the whole concept, which makes me uncomfortable. "If you donate to Charity X, I'll undergo a trivial analogue of martyrdom." No. Just no. I have very limited understanding of (or respect for) real, fatal, religious martyrdom, but I wouldn't participate in something which parodies it.

This is presuming it'd be for a charity I'd be inclined to support anyway, which isn't a certainty.

* I have a beard to avoid the necessity of shaving daily, i.e. I'm 'anti-shaving', not 'pro-beards'.

The licence costs £126.50, and is, in effect, a tax from which the BBC is funded (the 50p is the BBC website's share). It's not a subscription for BBC services, though – it's quite possible to only watch the commercial TV networks (which don't receive a penny of the licence fee), whilst still being obliged to pay for the BBC. Conversely, it's possible to listen to the BBC radio networks for free and without the interruption of adverts, as BBC Radio is also funded by the TV licence fee.

I feel strongly that shops and other businesses should operate exactly the same on Sundays as, say, on Wednesdays – in a secular society (by which I mean one where all faiths are accepted, but none have any role whatsoever in public life) no religion's 'special' day should have preferential status.

However, that doesn't automatically extend to individual employees – no-one should be obliged to perform a specific task or at a specific time offensive to his/her beliefs. That's respect for the individual's personal choice, irrespective of my indifference about the dogma behind it. Hence, I feel a shop should be open as normal on a Sunday, but staffed by assistants willing to work on that day.

Yet that identifies my contrary point: rationally, if a person is unwilling to work on a certain day, a company ought to be free to employ someone who will. An employee shouldn't be discriminated against on the basis of religion, but shouldn't receive artificially preferential treatment, either.

The complication is when, as in this case, a company changes its working practices, and an existing employee becomes affected. Should the employer be legally obliged to keep a 'liability'? Should the employee be forced to choose between his/her faith and job?

Though I don't know the specifics of the case, and it seems both the employer and employee could have exhibited greater flexibility, I'm reluctantly glad (?) that an employment tribunal, an employment appeal tribunal and the court of appeal all endorsed the company's action.

If rail staff from New Zealand had avoided the staff room, would the same implied criticism be made?

One has to remember that the United Kingdom, despite the name, isn't one homogenous culture; events occuring in London have a somewhat limited impact elsewhere. Personally, I've been to London about five times in 33 years, and regard it with no especial affection. It's obvious that the London-based mass media gave the bombings saturation coverage, but I doubt that there'd be quite so much attention paid if the same events had occurred in Leeds or Belfast.
So, whilst my thoughts are with the individuals affected, it'd be overstatement to call it a national tragedy. We're not 'all in this together' – that's just a media myth. We're not indifferent either, of course; all I'm saying is that this isn't something that paralyses the entire country.

Another consideration is that this isn't so far outside the usual British experience as, say, the destruction of the World Trade Center on 9/11. The UK has lived with terrorist incidents for decades. This isn't the first major attack in London (though it's certainly caused the greatest loss of life). Unlike New York's Wall Street, the City of London (i.e. London's financial district) is permanently protected by roadblocks, as a response to a major bomb on 24 April, 1993, and nationwide, it's only fairly recently that litter bins were returned to public spaces like railway stations and shopping centres, almost a decade after the Warrington bombing, near Manchester. The risk of terrorist action has been a rarely-considered background to everyday life for as long as I've lived.

Just within my lifetime, and just within London itself, there have been terrorist bombings in 1971 (the Post Office Tower, 1973 (King's Cross Station, as was attacked again yesterday), four in 1974 (Parliament, Tower of London, a club, and the Prime Minister's private home), 1975 (the Hilton hotel), 1976 (a theatre), 1982 (Hyde Park & Regents Park), 1983 (Harrods), 1990 (Stock Exchange), 1992 (Baltic Exchange), 1993 (City of London), two in 1996 (Docklands and a West End bus) and three in 2001 (BBC Television Centre, a post office, and West London). A mortar round has even exploded in the Prime Minister's garden in Downing Street!
Admittedly, yesterday's bombings were of an entirely different type, as the IRA tended to issue warnings, and the indiscriminate murder of civilians rarely seemed to be their active intent.

Finally, please, please don't you ****ing dare to say the UK and USA 'stand shoulder to shoulder in the war on terror'. I'm sure it's well-intended, but it comes across as offensive. Blair's compliance in Bush's illegal and unjustifiable foreign adventure is what got us into this situation in the first place.

I don't know what I think of this (not least because my formal higher education was science-based).
It could be argued that a certain amount of academic rigour and technical knowledge is required, but might that instilled by a BA (Hons.) be sufficient? A doctorate might provide the extra, specific expertise to lecture on a certain topic, but that might be too specific to be practical ('Jane Austen's toenail clipping habits, and their role in her writing March-June 1802') and is no greater preparation to teach students or to set and mark exams than that initial BA (Hons.).
Not that the job of 'lecturer' is even primarily about interaction with students, of course. Even in research, though, I'm not entirely convinced that an ability to jump through the specific hoops of producing a PhD thesis is necessarily the best route to becoming a highest-quality practitioner in arts subjects.

One of the most fundamental aspects of my world view is that the purpose of the state is to facilitate the lives of individual citizens, but never vice versa. Citizens do not exist to serve the state, and our rights should not be constrained for the convenience of the state. I'm sure it would be useful for government agencies (and private companies) to know who I am, where I live, who I know, where I go, how I travel, what I buy, etc. but that doesn't mean they should. So, no identity cards, no sharing of data between government departments, no national fingerprint or DNA database.

This philosophy is now expressed by the 'Individual-I', a public-domain icon which stands for:

• Freedom from surveillance
• Personal privacy
• Anonymity
• Equal protection
• Due process
• Freedom to read, write, think, speak, associate, and travel
• The right to make one's own choices about sex, reproduction, marriage, and death
• The right to dissent

That primal fear is bad enough, but there's more: I remember a bathroom suite which was replaced years ago, and a bare patch of garden which was turfed-over decades ago. I remember a friend who I haven't seen since we left primary school to attend different secondary schools. I remember his garden. And his next-door neighbour's. I suddenly, vividly, remember the layout of my bedroom in the late 1970s. From that, I remember specific events – and my memory tends to fixate on the less pleasant ones. I remember arguments, the deterioration of my parents' marriage,... **** – change the subject.

In short, this unexpected rush of memories unsettled me, and further recollections have already been influencing my dreams.

They're missing the point, of course. Yes, the leaflets are on recycled and recyclable paper, but it shouldn't be about recycling. Rather, they should avoid unnecessary use of paper in the first place.

It'd make rather more sense for them to put the same information on a website, where supporters could read it at their leisure on their pedal-powered iMacs without bothering the rest of us.

Yet it doesn't naturally extrapolate to a need for 'stronger laws', for greater online censorship which would affect everyone – the responsibility is on parents to take greater care, not for the actions of non-parents to be restricted merely to accommodate the incompetent. It's for the parents to prevent children visiting certain sites, not for the sites to stop depicting certain content (within reason).

I'm not saying pornography is to be encouraged; I'm making the general point that this proposed censorship is not the answer. As a non-parent, I don't regard children as paramount, and oppose such measures skewing society towards 'family-friendly' mundanity. Parents need to keep up; the rest of us shouldn't be held back.

They want to reintroduce National Service: a period of military training and duty, after which it'd be compulsory to keep an automatic rifle in one's home.

Absolutely not, for two reasons. Firstly, the UK has a relatively low level of gun crime, and the fact that ordinary police constables carry nothing more lethal than a baton is a source of pride. Proliferation of military-grade weaponry is an appalling idea.

Secondly, I see no justifiable role for national service in a modern society. Yes, a number of otherwise 'enlightened' nations employ it, but I disagree with the concept. It's fundamental to my world view that the state should exist to serve the individual, never, ever, the reverse.

Neil, who has read the document (I really couldn't be bothered), noted another issue: that they wish to end the alleged left-wing domination of higher education, abolish 'nonsense' disciplines (without defining 'nonsense') and withhold University access until after national service. It isn't even laughable.
Conversely, their plan to withdraw all British troops from overseas duties in order to mass UK armed forces in Kent to defend against Europe (I think they mean France) is a joke – even their fuhrer admits it's no more than an attention-grabbing soundbite.

Recently, Lancashire County Council decided to close Greaves Park nursery school (kindergarten) in Lancaster, but protests from parents obliged the Council to think again. Having taken those views into account alongside other considerations, such as cost and the absolute necessity of there being a nursery school in that location (perfectly adequate coverage apparently exists elsewhere), the Council confirmed the existing decision.
Last week the local paper, The Citizen, reported that parents had launched a petition against the decision, and already had 350 signatures. And? The parents had been heard, and their objections deemed insufficient to counterbalance the other factors. So far as I see, the matter's closed. The Council had to listen, and did, but it didn't have to agree. The Council already knew the decision would be unpopular with some in the local area, so why does the precise number of objectors matter? A vocal minority (and let's face it, 350 from the area's entire population is a pitiful number) can't just keep making further representations until they 'win' an outcome they like; that's collective petulance, or genteel mob rule.

Incidentally, please don't mistake this as support for the Council's decision. I'm commenting on the decision-making process, not the issue itself.

Even if the very concept wasn't outdated, I distrust the accuracy of petitions anyway.

• Firstly, they can be faked (padded with false identities) too easily.
• Secondly, assuming all names are genuine, petitions can be padded with irrelevant contributions. I wonder how many of those 350 actually live in the affected area, or even have children.
• Thirdly, peer pressure could add the signatures of several people who mightn't otherwise choose to contribute. Had this been a secret ballot, I don't believe all 350 would have voted.

I wonder whether public bodies are obliged to observe any specific protocol about petitions, such a logging their receipt or formally adding them to the documentation of a decision-making process. Personally, If I was a civil servant receiving a petition, I'd politely thank the person making the submission, then dispose of it unopened.

By that I mean I never thought of the meaning behind the word, and it didn't inspire thoughts of literally a maxilla and a mandible containing lots of teeth, articulated by immensely powerful muscles. It was somehow more abstract, the connotation divorced from the literal definition. Mention 'Jaws' and I'd have thought of the film, perhaps the film poster, but not specifically teeth.

Another example would be 'Doctor Who'. The character's creator presumably intended to define a slightly mysterious figure of scientific authority, but I grew up with the name appearing weekly in TV schedules so just absorbed it without question; it was merely the person's name, and it wouldn't have made a significant difference to me if he'd been Prof. Cryptic or indeed Inquisitor Probe (perhaps not...).

The same applies to place names. Mention Blackpool and I think of a tacky seaside resort, not of a specifically-coloured pond. In my mind, the concept of Newcastle as a city in Northeast England doesn't inspire the briefest thought about the age of its defences. Actually, I think concatenation is a special case, but the point still applies.

To go a stage further, if a word is repeatedly seen within a distinctive logo, it almost ceases to be a word, being transmuted (I nearly said 'reduced', but that's inaccurate) to an assemblage of letters in a typeface, conveying a visual impression rather than a textual one.

I'm not sure I'm explaining this adequately; speaking to Helen a few minutes ago, she understood what I was saying, but not why I thought it noteworthy that the 'mental shorthand' conveyed by groups of letters can become separated from their original meaning as words. Perhaps that's just too obvious to a linguist, much like a geomorphologist might understand the mechanism and rate at which a river can erode rock, without realising just how incredible that really is.

Yes, I deliberately ended that paragraph with a preposition. Ha – that'll teach her....

If someone maintains a commercial website, and does so to the employer's satisfaction, should it matter to the maintainer whether the organisation produces PhDs or PHD-brand valve gaskets? Should the employee regard his/her products as superior? Does it matter if an employee of 'Company A' personally uses the products of 'Company B'?

Should the employee care whether the company thrives (and consequently make an extra, unpaid commitment of time or effort), so long as his/her salary is secure? Again so long as pay isn't affected, is it reasonable for an employee to actually dislike his/her employer, and (in his/her own time) openly recommend competitors instead?

I'm obviously not suggesting anyone is obliged to enjoy his/her job – that's an entirely separate issue – but if he/she has to work somewhere, does the employee have a duty to promote the interests of that employer ahead of the interests of other companies (or even market sectors), beyond the direct requirements of the role for which he/she is employed?

I suppose what I'm asking is, presuming the professional obligations of confidentiality, working hours and reasonable effort are met, does the employee need to be loyal (overtly, anyway) to the company and product?

If an employer says:

In 1964, the campus was still largely a building site, and many aspects of the University operated from temporary premises in town, but that's no longer the case - we could easily accommodate a ceremony here (we seem to manage degree congregations each year) and have an acclaimed chaplaincy building. I can imagine there being a compelling argument that a formal event in Lancaster itself symbolically bonds 'town' and 'gown' - I'd fully agree with that justification - but I haven't heard anyone make that argument; it's happening this way simply because it did last time.

However, it's the other aspect which is rather more questionable: why is a religious service involved at all in the activities of an overtly secular institution, and why a specifically christian service in a multicultural society? Forty years ago, the Church of England was a state religion, and church representatives were even involved in the governing bodies of the University, but I'm immensely pleased to say the link between church and state has essentially evaporated and there weren't any religious elements in our 40th anniversary celebrations last year.

So why's it happening? What were the organisers thinking of? Personally, I seriously doubt whether they did think about it. It was done that way in 1964, so should be replicated in 2005. I suppose that's the nature of tradition, but if the precedent (of only one previous installation - this isn't a custom extending back hundreds of years) no longer makes sense, I'd say the opportunity for re-evaluation ought to have been taken.

*: Yes, 'installed', though I don't think plumbers, electricians or telecom engineers are involved.

There are several reasons, but I suppose the root of them all is that I have a very clear distinction (in my own mind, anyway) between the author of the Ministry blog, and the person experiencing offline life. Anyone who thinks they know 'me' from the blog is totally mistaken. I'm not sure whether the blog author is simply an aspect of my personality; it's more of a construct. I don't know whether I'm more eloquent in writing than in speech; without question, I'm more expansive (verbose?) here. I suppose it might seem I reveal more here than 'in real life', and this is more 'genuine', but that's inaccurate.

I'm not trying to distance myself from my own writing; I stand by almost all of it. However, the frame of mind in which I write tends not to impinge on my social interactions. Several preoccupations here stay here. If I've posted about a topic in the past, it's likely I'll mention it again if something new emerges; having done so twice, it's likely I'd do so again, seemingly reinforcing a trend which, in fact, doesn't matter to me to the extent it might appear.

I frequently report or comment on current affairs affecting Lancaster or of wider interest, but very rarely events from my own life, or friends and family. The reason I was called in to feed A&A's cats for a week in September might be of vicarious interest (it involved a broken elbow, a baby, and the necessity of transporting horses to Portugal), but it would just feel odd to write about such matters. It doesn't apply to that specific instance, but I'd tend to feel inhibited about expressing an honest opinion, perhaps critical of an acquaintance, who might then read the posting, with or without my knowledge.

One of the biggest disadvantages of the blog is that a close friend is aware of it. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but I think there's been a cooling in our friendship, which I ascribe to that person thinking she has greater insight into the real me, and doesn't particularly like what she sees. I'd argue that's an entirely false assumption, and a source of regret. I like to think there's a distinction between the Neil she knows in person and the NRT of the blog, but maybe that's not as clear as I'd hope.

I don't post photographs of people. I'm very aware that blogging is publishing, and if I'm at a party with a camera, I somehow feel it'd be a betrayal of trust to distribute private moments to the world; more specifically, to those who might recognise participants. If people thought I was taking photos for publication, they'd obviously be more guarded around me.
Helen loathes having her photo taken anyway, which I respect, so don't expect to see her here.
Similarly, I have no intention of ever posting a photo of myself. In part, that's because I wouldn't necessarily want meet some weirdo who's taken offence at one of my rants!

I only write about personal relationship issues very, very rarely, and almost always in a generic, abstract context - some things are simply private, and personal topics are rarely of interest to external observers anyway. Every couple has their own issues and fetishes; I rarely feel inclined to discuss them publicly. Careful readers may have spotted hints, but don't expect more.

It might take professional psychoanalysis to explain, but I am a compartmentalised person.
When I'm with H, I step into that life entirely. Life in Lancaster is remote, and both work and my family are rarely even topics of conversation.
Conversely, when I'm with friends in Lancaster, Helen is rarely mentioned. That's something for a different posting, but summarising wildly, a) I don't think H would get on with some friends, and b) it's sometimes a little painful to be reminded that while everyone else in the room is one of a couple, she's ~1,000 miles (~1,600 km) away from me.

And, in exactly the same way, when I'm writing the blog, I'm not the person you might meet in the street.

Anyway; Siobhan again (slightly edited, for brevity):

I'm a big fan of photorealism. I was going to end that sentence with "... in cgi", but it's more general than that. If I'm visiting, say, the City Art Gallery, Manchester, I tend to gravitate to photographic exhibitions and the more 'photorealistic' paintings. I do like the atmospheric landscapes of Turner but it's the intricately detailed, accurately realised Pre-Raphaelite paintings which really grab me.

Backpedaling slightly, I also like more abstract and/or synaesthesic (synaesthetic?) work, a lot (including Siobhan's). I suppose it's a matter of the artist's apparent intent. If an artist attempts to make a direct, realistic representation of what he/she sees (or could conceivably see), I prefer it to be as accurate as possible; literally photorealistic, ideally. Plainly, someone like Picasso wasn't trying for that, and I appreciate his work just as much for what it is. I can't think of any artist better able to convey the essential shape of an animal or object than Picasso achieved in his sketches in one line.

There's a second issue, which I don't have time to pursue right now: I don't believe there's inherent value to a specific medium which one shouldn't attempt to recreate in a different medium.
Self-evidently, the 'best' means of capturing a photorealistic image of an object is to take a photograph of it, but that doesn't preclude a highly realistic painting or computer-generated image, particularly if the object doesn't actually exist outside the artist's imagination.

I like BoingBoing; I read it more-or-less daily. I tend to agree with many of the authors' preoccupations, and think they're the 'good guys' in many (but not all) campaigning issues. That's great, and is unlikely to change, but I think I've been lulled into accepting that an account of a given event tends to be a fair, accurate summary of the true situation because it's in BoingBoing, or that BoingBoing's interpretation of a news item tends to be the correct one. I started to trust.

A trivial example is that when I first visited, I did see that one of the main sponsors of the site, SuicideGirls, is devoted to topless pin-ups for 'the alt community'. That's nothing I personally find offensive (nor attractive, either), so I'd stopped noticing, even whenever a BoingBoing article linked to content at SuicideGirls, which would normally raise questions about editorial impartiality. I don't object to the sponsor, and don't think there's a genuine conflict of interests, what concerns me is my failure to register that there might be.

I must have said this before ('cos it's important to me): whatever your choice of information source, always question it. Question its ability to access all aspects of an issue. Question its assumptions. Question its motivations. Take nothing on trust alone. Visit totally different information sources too, for a different perspective.

I'm not saying I believe that the configuration of celestial bodies millions of kilometres away predetermine events in an individual's everyday life. That makes no sense whatsoever, and I'm just as scathing of newspaper horoscopes as Ms. Mangan. However, empiricism - basic observation - seems to show that the characteristics ascribed to, say, Taureans are exhibited by people I know personally, who happen to have been born in April/May. For whatever reason, that aspect of astrology seems to work; it's the explanation which seems implausible, not the result.
I can't imagine how the location of an arbitrary group of stars at the moment of one's birth (indoors, in a windowless room, for ****'s sake) could influence one's future personality, but other factors may apply, based on one's birth date.

The timing of hypothetical key stages in an infant's biological development might be important; a child passing a certain threshold in March might be affected in a different way to a child passing the same developmental point in June. Maybe the earth's magnetic field fluctuates. Maybe it's dark matter.
That's nature; there's also nurture. For example, a child born in October would be amongst the eldest in his/her age group in the UK education system, whereas one born in August would be amongst the youngest, with consequent sociological impacts.

I'll get the main counter-argument in before anyone else: self-fulfillment. Knowing the stereotypical Capricorn characteristics, one is bound to spot them in someone born in December/January. Someone born in July might exhibit them too, but one isn't primed to notice. It probably applies in reverse, too. An indecisive person might attribute that trait to simply being a Libran, thereby reinforcing the behaviour pattern.

This is all oversimplifying, but it illustrates that I can't dismiss what we term 'star signs' in the absence of a more convincing explanation, even though I certainly question the relevance of distantly burning hydrogen.

But I'm a Scorpio (sun, moon and ascendant), so I suppose I would say that.

Might there be an increasing switch (oops - oxymoron) from over-the-counter purchases to online shopping? I suppose that'd be apparent if high street companies with online stores (e.g. Debenhams) perform better than those without (e.g. BHS, who offer a directory of store locations, but no online purchasing), though masked by company ownership - for all I know, the parent company of BHS might have successful web stores under a different brand name.

It'd be good if this was a sign of greater 'recycling' by customers. Previously, if someone bought a shirt, kept it for a while but never wore it, it'd remain in a wardrobe indefinitely. If someone else wanted an identical shirt, that'd be a second sale for the retailer. Now, the first customer might sell to the second via eBay or similar, thereby halving the retailer's potential profit.

It'd be even better if people were becoming less commercialised, but that's rather unlikely.

[Update: there's a similar story at El Reg.]

It's regretably undeniable that minor surgery on, say, prominent ears might be of benefit to some - a degree of conformity with social norms is difficult to fight. Similarly, I'd fully support someone's choice to undergo corrective surgery on prominent blemishes or disfigurements attracting unwanted attention. My criticism is of mere cosmetic social enhancements.

Think. Who are you trying to impress? If certain people can't see past your cup size, why do they matter to you?

Another BBC article linked from this one reports that 'Bliss' ran a very similar survey a year ago, with broadly similar results. I'm afraid I can't help questioning their motives. Are they to be praised for highlighting a social problem, or blamed for sustaining it? Surveys sell magazines, but does the rest of the content routinely combat poor self-image? Do the articles downplay the plasticised freaks, or glorify them?

1. Fresh fish. I'd like to eat this more often, but most varieties are too expensive for my level of confidence in my cooking ability i.e. I'm scared of ruining a meal I'd particularly enjoy.
2. Lobster. Yum!
3. Steak. The CJD crisis in the British beef industry didn't dissuade me from eating steaks, as the risk was largely – apparently – limited to nerve tissue and processed foods (cheap burgers, etc.) which might indiscriminately contain it.
4. Thai food. Lancaster used to have an excellent Thai restaurant, Som Siam, offering especially good fishcakes as a starter. Unfortunately, I haven't seen it open within the last year or so.
5. Chinese food. Of the people in Lancaster I'd choose to accompany to a restaurant, I seem to be the only one who likes Chinese food, so I eat it rarely. I do cook it myself, at home, but it's not quite the same.
6. Ice cream. I dislike wafer, so avoid ice cream cones, but ice cream itself is okay.
7. Pizza. I suppose there's no inherent reason to consider a pizza to be junk food, but that's the usual context, and I rarely eat one.
8. Crab. The white, fibrous leg meat is delicious; the dark red body meat is less pleasant.
9. Curry. I'm not sure what's meant by 'curry', but I do enjoy Indian cuisine.
10. Prawns. The variety of prawns commonly available in the UK are from Iceland: small, 'peeled', frozen (possibly multiple times in their route from sea to stomach), and little more than softly-textured carriers of salty water. Not worth the money, and I rarely eat them. Prawns as typically available on the quayside in Stavanger, Norway (my father's home city), are barely comparable: larger, whole (i.e. unshelled), fresh (perhaps frozen once) and delicious. Since I was about ten, whenever daily life became stressful, I was able to think that some time within the following year, I'd be in Stavanger, sitting on a mooring bollard (what's the correct term?) throwing empty prawn shells into Vågen (the guest harbour) as I worked my way through a ~500g bag. On reflection, I've only actually done that 3-4 times, but a buffet/salad featuring a large bowl of unshelled prawns has been a feature of pretty much every trip to Norway since 1978.
11. Moreton Bay Bugs – a variety of Australian lobster. Since I love lobster and prawns (garlic giant prawns are my all-time favourite food, mainly for the texture), I'm fairly sure I'd like these.
12. Clam chowder.
13. Barbecues. That's a rather vague category, but yes, on the whole I like barbecued food.
14. Pancakes. My absolute favourite meal as a child, and still one I like. Yes, as served in my mother's house, pancakes are a meal in themselves. She cooks them one at a time; I have just enough time to collect one from the kitchen, sprinkle sugar and lemon juice onto it, roll it into a tube, sprinkle more sugar and lemon on top and eat it with a knife & fork before another is brought through, then another, then another. I've typically managed eight before surrendering, slightly nauseous. As a child, it was one of the few ways my mother could feed me egg (which I still don't eat, except in pancakes and cakes – never just as a fried, boiled, poached or scrambled egg).
15. Pasta.
16. Mussels. Whenever available, I tend to choose these as a first course in restaurants.
17. Cheesecake.
18. Lamb. I like lamb in the context of a traditional roast dinner, but rarely in Indian meals, stir-fries, etc. Somehow the texture doesn't quite work.
19. Cream tea. I like scones, though I can't eat more than one or two at a sitting – there's something starchy about them. I like strawberry jam (though, as an aside, I don't like to encounter a fragment of whole berry), which, incidentally, is the equivalent of US 'conserve' (with seeds & pieces of the fruit), not 'jelly' (seedless & homogeneous). I like cream, in extreme moderation. However, the traditional cream tea consists of scones with jam and clotted cream, the very thought of which puts me off.
20. Alligator.
21. Oysters. I know I've eaten them at least once, but don't recall it.
22. Kangaroo.
23. Chocolate. I could happily eat a little chocolate each day, but only block-type chocolate, not chocolate -coated 'candy bars'. I favour Cadbury's Dairy Milk chocolate, which European connoisseurs mightn't even define as chocolate at all. I don't like many other manufacturers' milk chocolates, which do tend to taste of vegetable fat, but nor do I like high-cocoa 'plain' or 'black' chocolate. This obviously means I don't buy 'fair trade' chocolate, but that is only because I don't really like the taste, not because of an animosity to the idea itself (unlike organic produce, which I never knowingly buy).
24. Sandwiches. How vague is that?
25. Greek food. I'm not familiar with the full range of Greek cuisine, as I've only encountered elements of stereotypical 'international Greek' food.
26. Burgers. Hamburgers can be excellent, though I've yet to experience a decent one in a fast food restaurant. I'd always thought that food from a UK branch of, say, McDonalds was probably an inadequate imitation of that from a US branch, but when I was in New York in October, I was disappointed to find the burgers are identically awful.
27. Mexican food.
28. Squid.
29. American diner breakfast
30. Salmon. In some parts of the world, I understand this is a luxury, but here in the UK, and especially in Norway, it's more-or-less a staple item.
31. Venison.
32. Guinea pig. What?
33. Shark
34. Sushi. Only fresh – never bother with pre-prepared, from a supermarket or similar.
35. Paella. One of my earlier memories of 'foreign food' was of paella made from dehydrated prawns, vegetables and MSG added to ordinary boiled rice. Real paella was a pleasant surprise!
36. Barramundi.
37. Reindeer.
38. Kebab.
39. Scallops
40. Australian meat pie. So far as I know, this is the same sort of pie as we have in the UK. Writing this has reminded me that I haven't had a steak & kidney pie for years. I'll probably buy one next week....
41. Mango. I've never really liked mango, and find mango juice nothing special. On reflection, I suspect I've never eaten a ripe mango – they've always been rather hard.
42. Durian fruit. I'd like to try this, as Malay friends have mentioned it, but their descriptions haven't always been favourable.
43. Octopus.
44. Ribs.
45. Roast beef. A proper roast beef dinner, with Yorkshire pudding, can't be beaten, but done badly, there's little more disappointing.
46. Tapas.
47. Jerk chicken/pork. I've only eaten the version I've cooked myself, using store-bought marinades, so I'm not sure whether I can claim to have experienced the real thing.
48. Haggis. Scrupulously avoiding any thought of what it actually is, haggis is reasonably pleasant.
49. Caviar. This may be the only item on the list that I don't even wish to try – why eat fish eggs?
50. Cornish pasty. I can buy something bearing the name from the baker a couple of minutes from my office, but it's rare to find a real pasty – there's more to one than meat, carrot and potato in a fold of pastry.

[Via Shelley]

We each gave presents the other had requested, but the discrepancy was in packaging. I'd used decent wrapping paper and sellotape, labeled with a marker pen, but Alizon's wrapping extended to fancy ribbon sealed with a chocolate coin and a separate label. I imagine she spent an entire evening wrapping presents; I took ten minutes. In addition to the main present, there was also a gift bag (i.e. the type of bag bought specially, from a greetings card shop) containing tiny slices of chocolate-coated christmas cake. Thanks, Al!

I can report that this year I sent two christmas cards and one e-card, solely in situations where it would have been awkward not to exchange cards. Whereas I used generic Woolworths 20-for-£5 cards left over from last year, so tacky they were thankfully considered 'ironic' (I won't do that again), Alizon, Andy, the cats and the snake gave me a card showing an attractive, suitably secular Alpine view, which by trying too hard to avoid saying so, plainly supports a charity. In short, a 'grown-up' card in return for an empty gesture.

As I've said repeatedly, I consider christmas to be utterly vacuous, to be endured or avoided, and loathed whilst doing so, but I hope that doesn't diminish the enjoyment of others - the loathing is inward, not advertised in the presence of the less cynical. To persistently mock an experience someone enjoys gives the erroneous impression of mocking the person. Alizon does know I'm definitely not a christmas person, but not the extent to which the whole fake experience depresses me - apart from here in the blog, I'm discreet about it.

So, whatever you celebrate, so long as you do celebrate rather than merely obey social convention, enjoy it.

Secondly, I resent giving/receiving gifts according to social conventions I don't share. If I find a great gift, I want to give it then, not when the recipient just happens to have been breathing for a specific, ultimately arbitrary, number of days. Much worse, why should I, an atheist and secularist, have to conform to a (nominally) christian calendar?
This is also the reason I take only the minimum, compulsory leave at this time of year (the University is shut 24 Dec-3 Jan; if it wasn't, I'd go in), hence saving my leave allowance for a time of my choosing.
Helen is being braver than me this year, and isn't even coming back to the UK. We'll catch-up in the new year, under conditions we'll enjoy rather more. Why pay premium airfares and high prices in overcrowded shops in December, when prices (but maybe not crowds) will decline in January? Yes, we'll buy one another gifts, but by shopping together; it's not a competition.
[Tip for fellow males: the consensus is that this is the only safe circumstances under which it's acceptable to buy a partner lingerie i.e. in her presence, subject to direct guidance]

In short, in terms of the gift giving/receiving aspect, (okay, and many others), I dislike christmas.

This little rant was triggered by the case of my mother's partner. I don't really have a personal opinion of him; we're just not close. He's not someone for whom I'd choose to buy a gift, nor from whom I'd expect to receive one, yet we do exchange presents, purely for my mother's sake.

This year, I really struggled to think of anything at all that I'd like. For a moment I considered requesting a CD I don't want, but which I could save for someone else's birthday, but even for me that's cynical.
I eventually settled on a high-visibility waistcoat for cycling. A desperate choice, as time's running out. If I'm really honest, I don't want it, and doubt I'll use it. When I'm in a more-than-usually belligerent mood, I'm ideologically opposed to the very idea, really. Cars aren't obliged to be painted high-visibility colours, so why should cyclists have to make an extra effort? We're not second-class road users, and I won't behave as such.
I passed this request on to my mother today, and she asked me to buy it myself, to be repaid when I see her next week.

So let's recap. In order to receive a gift I don't even want, from someone about whom I have negligible feelings (positive or negative - don't misread this as dislike), I need to buy it myself, thereby having to brave the peak-time crowds in the city centre, a chore I'd otherwise managed to avoid entirely this year, for something I don't want anyway (did I mention that bit?).

This is all so, so fake. I really despair.

*: I have quite a few books and numerous CDs, but they're merely the carrying media of text and music. I'm not so interested in them as things, to own and hoard.

So, which is better: pedantically correct, or intuitive? I mean in general; I'm no longer talking about the numbers example. This is a fundamental design issue, which applies to everything from web pages to road signs.

Another example would be the issue of web standards compliance. IE is less compliant, but if it serves the needs of users better, does that matter? Should one adhere to strict standards simply for the sake of complying, or provide what people really want?

These are partly devil's advocate questions, of course. Personally I have no problem with the more accurate 1,10,11,... numbering (I'd have used 01,02,03..., which eliminates confusion), and loathe the 'helpful' attitude built into Microsoft products. For me, more accurate generally is more intuitive.

But (and this is an important point) that's just me. People differ, which makes design such an... interesting activity. Which should take priority - meeting current expectations, or educating towards imposed conditions? To rephrase: if standards are a valid concept at all, should they be set at the existing level of the majority, or at a 'best practice' level to which the majority can aspire?

Without wishing to appear rude, this presumption seems to display considerable self-obsession on the part of some Americans. Why would a British songwriter, in a British band, producing music aimed at a global audience (okay, primarily European/N.American, but not primarily US, anyway), dedicate an album to commentary on a foreign regime? If there are multiple possible interpretations of an album title, why choose an improbable one?

I suppose people like to think the world revolves around them. The USA is indeed a dominant participant in global affairs, but not that dominant. For SW to "jump on a US-bashing bandwagon" (which confuses criticism of Bush with criticism of the USA as a whole, but that's a different topic) would imply he, or any other Brit, cares enough to invest that sort of time, effort and creative energy on the government of a nation thousands of miles away.

However, SafeSpeed, a campaign group opposed to 'excessive' (there's no such thing) enforcement of speed limits claims that...

School runs are one of those things which contribute to a background level of annoyance in my daily life. From a purely selfish point of view, I suppose they increase traffic intensity at the time I'm cycling to work (and parents with children aren't at their most attentive to other road users), but I don't really have a problem with that.

My objection is the elevation of empty convenience over necessity. Don't get me wrong: there are valid reasons for taking some children to school by car, such as when a family lives a considerable distance from a rural village school, but these cases are a minority.
Otherwise, it's a mere convenience, a luxury, which can't be justified as sustainable in economic or environmental terms. Parents who nonetheless drive children to school exhibit an attitude of "I and my children are okay, **** you and yours."

Government proposals could stagger the start times of schools in the same locality, so that trips to one school no longer coincide with trips to another nearby, thereby cutting congestion. This might help the symptoms, but really isn't the solution.
Unless there's a concrete reason to travel by car, walk. No time in your busy, busy life to walk young children to school? Make time, or join a 'walking pool' to share the duty with other parents. If it's too far to walk (which, in urban/suburban areas, should only mean secondary schools, and older children don't need parental accompaniment), use a school bus.

Personally, I'd ban parking anywhere near schools, apart from designated drop-off/pick-up areas, for which I'd impose punitive charges, with exemption/rebates for those able to prove the school run is essential. By all means drive children to school if you really want to, but expect to pay a lot for the convenience.

My mother lives in North Wales, just over the border from Chester. It's almost exactly 100 miles (161 km) or two hours of motorway driving from here.
My father lives in Norway.
My sister lives in Bristol, something like seven hours from Lancaster by motorway, though she's currently renting whilst selling her house in Taunton (Somerset) in order to buy another in Truro (Cornwall). That'll be an eight-hour drive for her to visit my mother; it'll be quicker to drive to Plymouth (Devon), fly to Liverpool and drive to Wales.

However, speaking to K. a few minutes ago, she asked me if I'll be "going home for christmas". That seemed, well, seems, an odd question. I am home; I live in Lancaster. I spend about eleven months of each year here. I tend to visit my mother's house annually, for less than a week; 'my' room there is now a conservatory with a sofa bed.

Yes, I'll be visiting Wales for christmas, then I'll be returning home.

I had presumed that each visitor's click contributes towards distributing books in developing nations, but they go to children in the USA instead. I obviously don't have a problem with US children, but as I said last week, I won't donate to charities performing tasks I regard as the responsibility of the state.

In developing nations, governments may struggle to provide even the fundamentals of clean water, sufficient food and a stable infrastructure, so they need all the help they can get for 'secondary' factors such as literacy.
If there are illiterate children in the USA, that is a failing of the education system and government, which should take full responsibility for financing and providing adequate measures. It shouldn't be a charity issue.

If the private sector covers gaps in state provision, the state simply gets away with it, and the gaps progressively grow. Don't apply sticking plasters at your own expense. Challenge the cause of the injury.

This is the second draft of this entry. In the first, I agreed with Caitlin, with the caveat that we might be missing something. Since writing that, I've considered it in the shower, and concluded that we're failing to distinguish between cause and effect.

It's quite conceivable that someone might like the appearence and sensation of fur without approving of practices in the fur industry. If it's possible to reproduce the favourable result whilst eliminating the negative source, why not? Solidarity with a fuzzy bunny? (Wrong fuzzy bunny. Ahem). If the manufacture of fake fur can eliminate the (alleged) need for genuine fur, great; buy fake fur. To reject fake fur because it reproduces the real thing seems needlessly ascetic.

Likewise, it might be asked why one would buy veggie bacon, which is supposed to look, smell and taste like the real thing, if the real thing is supposed to be distasteful or offensive. However, if the odour and flavour can be generated independently of the more usual source, I don't really see a problem. If you think fake bacon adequately reproduces the essential characteristics, go for it.

Disclaimers:
I don't especially like the look and texture of fur clothing - shiny & black do more for me. ;) That's taste, not morality, though - I have no qualms about buying and wearing leather.
I eat meat. If I had to kill for food, my only concerns would be practical, not moral.

For such purposes, Wales is autonomous, and not subject to the overall UK government in London. That achievement was hard fought (by reasoned debate, not violence!), though is still only a step towards independence (i.e. Wales becoming an independent country within the European Union, as distinct from England as is France; an equal partner, not a vassal).

Some mightn't share that desired objective; fair enough. However, a degree of administrative autonomy does exist already, and demands respect.
This is a Welsh issue, for the Welsh Assembly to decide, hopefully considering the views of Welsh students and universities. Not English students, registered with English institutions - they have as much right to comment as do, say, Polish students studying in Warszawa.

No disrespect to the English or English students, of course - I'd like to think that goes without saying, but will say it anyway!
I just think this is as valid an action as the Guardian's publicity stunt in attempting to influence US voters in Clark County, Ohio i.e. maybe well-intended, but still illegitimate. The English simply don't have the right to lobby the Welsh Assembly on student funding (and vice versa, obviously).

If it's necessary for me to declare my interests: I'm Welsh, and a graduate of a Welsh university, but now work at an English university, though not in a context influencing finances.

It's true that when voting for an MP, most people are aiming to elect a party of government, rather than necessarily the best local representative; my earlier posting was correct on the technical procedure, but I failed to mention voters' intentions.

However, I'd still argue that people voted in the Labour Party, which happens to be led by Tony Blair, not Tony Blair and his party, which happens to be Labour. The cult of personality isn't as strong in the UK as it certainly seems to be in the USA (sorry Jon, I'm ignorant of the Canadian situation). I'm not denying that a party leader can have a major effect on voters' choices, but my unproven impression is that it's only significant if a leader is overwhelmingly liked or disliked, which is atypical, historically. That said, Blair's style of leadership may cause a change of emphasis in future.

To return to my central point, the UK electorate don't necessarily choose a Prime Minister, especially if a party's leader changes between general elections. Most recently, John Major replaced Margaret Thatcher in 1990, and hence became PM. That means he was PM during the 1991 Iraq war, definitely without having been chosen as PM by public opinion.
The Prime Minister isn't even chosen by party members nationwide; there's nothing analogous to a US presidential primary. When the existing party leader is challenged or resigns, a new leader is chosen within a few days by a secret ballot of that party's MPs: an electorate of around 300. There's no requirement for the MPs to consult the public or wider party, though obviously they wish to be re-elected, so would be foolish to totally ignore public opinion.

The accountability of the election process is one issue, the dominance of the individual once there is another. Whatever the mechanism by which he was chosen, his colleagues couldn't have predicted his reaction to the events of 11 September, 2001. It is arguable, therefore, that he didn't have an intellectual and moral mandate to force his personal policies through Parliament in response to those events without genuinely consulting his party or the public. We might have agreed; my problem is that neither we nor our directly elected representatives were asked. To restate: the alliance is between Blair and Bush, not necessarily the UK and USA.

Even if I visit with my mother or Helen (few others seem to share my interest), we tend to separate and view alone, occasionally meeting briefly to draw the other's attention to items of particular interest. I can honestly say it had never occurred to me to act otherwise. The secondary aspects, of travelling to the gallery, meeting for a 'half-time' drink in the café and discussing the art afterwards, are indeed social, but not the primary activity, of focusing fully on the artwork.

[Update 18/11/04: It seems someone else at the Guardian agrees!]

I'm being pessimistic, of course; even as I write I'm aware that wish lists can be used as inspiration, as a guide to someone's current interests rather than a prescription.

I suppose another advantage would be when requesting specific items, such as a particular edition of a book or CD, or to ensure a clothes purchaser has one's correct sizes and preferences - could save embarrassment!

I feel a gift should reflect the shared interests of the giver and recipient. If both are interested in, say, the books of Terry Pratchett, a Pratchett-related gift would be appropriate, and the recipient might think of the sender whilst reading (Hi Alizon!).

I also feel that one shouldn't give a gift that the sender actively dislikes, unless the recipient is known to particularly like it. For instance, I dislike flowers, especially roses; I don't have a single flowering plant in my house. Hence, I wouldn't send someone flowers; it just wouldn't be me, and anyone who really knows me would think them an odd, rather insincere gesture. Similarly, I dislike the music of 'Yes' rather intensely, so I wouldn't give one of their CDs, apart from to a particular fan of the band (or a frisbee enthusiast). Even then, I'd think it odd to emphasise our dissimilarity, and would prefer to give something else.

By the way, I'm writing this because wish lists are new to me - I haven't used the services of the linked sites, which were chosen semi-randomly, so can't comment on the quality.

Now I have it, I'll also carry the phone if I'm out on the bike or hillwalking alone, as an emergency measure. Particularly when cycling, I like to just wander, so even I only have a rough idea of my destination and potential route. If anything happened, no-one (in the UK) would know I was missing, never mind where I'd gone, so I really ought to have some means of calling for help.

However, in either case, I can't imagine using a mobile other than when absolutely necessary. I wouldn't send a text message or ring someone just to chat.
I barely use a landline phone, and that's free after 18:00 (or subsumed into line rental, anyway - 4.2p/min if I paid for individual calls), never mind avoidably paying 30-40p/min to make the same call on a mobile.
Likewise, e-mail is free both at home (160 hrs free for £12.99/month) and at work (genuinely free at the point of use), so why would I wish to ****-around with a tiny numerical-to-textual keyboard to laboriously compose text messages costing at least 10p to send?
It's not that I can't afford it, but it would feel like pointlessly squandering money.

A more significant reason is that I feel no necessity or desire to be contactable at all times. If I'm at home, I can make and receive phone calls and e-mails via landline. Likewise at work. Only 1-2 work contacts can contact me at home, and vice versa. If I'm neither at home nor work, that almost always means I'm in a situation where conversation would be inconvenient. Anything can wait. I recently witnessed someone take a call whilst stark naked in the changing room at the swimming pool - who really needs to do that?

The title of this entry is a joke, of course. I don't object to mobile phones, apart from their inappropriate use in public locations. They simply have very little relevance to me. I have a desk-based job with always-on e-mail availability and I'm not part of a mobile-using clique. My friends (apart from H) don't use them (in a social context, anyway) either. This is probably the main reason I thrive without a mobile; as with any form of communication, it requires a consensus between the communicants, and happily the unspoken accord amongst people who matter to me is that mobiles are unnecessary in ordinary daily life.

At the BBC website in September, Jennifer Quinn expressed surprise that it's possible to live without a mobile phone, a 'revelation' which both amused and startled me - are people really that indoctrinated?

Perhaps it's a fashion thing, with current UK trends favouring ill-fitting, slightly trashy clothes (when will fashion abandon hipsters with visible thongs, a concept flattering literally no-one?), whereas current New York daily wear is markedly more elegant. Perhaps there's an element of familiarity breeding contempt. Well-dressed Americans and other Europeans seem somewhat 'exotic' to me (an overstatement, but I'm tired, so it'll have to do) whereas football shirts and tracksuit bottoms convey a certain negative connotation. Whatever the reasons, the effect is to suggest Brits abroad have negligible pride in their (our?) appearence.

Okay, I knowingly dress down for work, since I cycle-commute in an erratic climate and don't have a public-facing role, so can remain in (relative) scruffs all day, and I don't always bother to change when heading back out to a cinema or pub. However, I never wear jeans or trainers (any sportswear at all, in a non-sporting context, in fact) and if I'm visiting somewhere on foot, particularly with the always-impeccable Helen, a 10-year-old bike jacket and combats (never jeans; I just don't wear them) just wouldn't suffice. Sorry to sound prissy, but one simply has to make some effort.

In a way, I can understand the reasoning that one should wear comfortable clothes which are bound to become a little disheveled and sweaty wandering around a large city or particularly during cattle-class air travel, and one might be reluctant to appear too affluent in potentially impoverished neighbourhoods, but there is a middle-ground. The concept of "no-one knows me, it doesn't matter" is poor reasoning, disrespectful of the host nation and inviting disrespect. It can also be counter-productive: on the overbooked return flight from New York, the slightly smarter couple received an upgrade to business class (and very nice it was, too), whereas other 'obvious Brit' couples/families didn't even get adjacent seats.

C'mon, folks - it's an embarrassment!

As it happens, I could write about corset shopping in Manchester (not as the primary participant...), but I don't anticipate doing so, so move along, please. Nothing to see here. ;)

Since I'm unlikely to have internet access on Sunday and Monday, I'll take this opportunity to wish everyone an enjoyable Samhain and happy new Celtic year.

Today is the start of the autumn half-term break for schools; a poll for the TUC found that 40% of 20,000 people would like this to be a bank holiday.

In Europe, only the Netherlands has fewer public holidays, but workers there have a higher allowance of annual leave. That's the better model. I'd much prefer to see all UK public holidays abolished, with that number of days transferred to our annual leave allowances, to be taken at times chosen by the individual (and employer). Hence, theists would remain able to take leave for their religious festivals without their schedule being imposed on practitioners of other religions and atheists, and parents could be off work during school holidays whilst others could take breaks at times of our own choosing i.e. specifically when children are in school.

I presume there'd be a need to divide such additional discretionary breaks over the year rather than let people take one single extended holiday - personal and corporate health could suffer if employees were at work for 10-11 months non-stop then absent for a continuous period of 4-8 weeks. I'm sure a workable system could be devised - quarterly leave, perhaps?

Incidentally, 'Don't Look Back In Anger' is one of the few songs which strongly reminds me of a specific event, partly explaining its particular attraction.
In 1996, the BBC showed a wonderful drama series, 'Our Friends In The North', starring little known actors who have gone on to greater prominence (possibly because of this series): Christopher Eccleston, Gina McKee, Daniel Craig and Mark Strong.
As I explained earlier, weekly TV drama series were important escapism at that difficult time of my life, so the impact was intensified. I really looked forward to each episode, and didn't miss one, a loyalty I wouldn't dream of sustaining nowadays.
The premise was to follow the lives of four friends from Newcastle, from the Sixties to the present day, in nine episodes (1964, 1966, 1967, 1970, 1974, 1979, 1984, 1987, 1995), the end credits of which were accompanied by a contemporary pop hit from each year. As the final episode ended, an emotional moment, the song at number one on the broadcast date was played: 'Don't Look Back In Anger', which coincidentally fitted the context perfectly.

Primarily, I dislike being intoxicated. I'm uncomfortable about the loss of control, and uncomfortable if those around me are drunk. Last week, while I was in Edinburgh, I 'missed' a party here in Lancaster. I hear it was 'great fun', with extensive drinking and dancing. I was very pleased to have been invited, but if I'm brutally honest, and steal an Alizonism, I'd rather have eaten my own faeces. Instead, whilst the revellers were languishing in bed on Saturday morning, I was watching the sun rise over historic Edinburgh, having climbed Arthur's Seat (okay, it's only 250m high) before dawn, with a totally clear head. I had a great time, which I'll remember for years, whereas if I'd been in Lancaster, I feel confident I'd have been thoroughly miserable. I hasten to add that that would be no fault of the participants - the company of friends would have been the overriding motivator to even consider attending.

No, intoxication isn't my primary dislike: I detest, even resent, hangovers. My lifestyle simply doesn't allow for 'down time'; if I'm obliged to lie-in in bed on a weekend morning because I can't otherwise function fully, I'm annoyed. As I've said before, I don't find hangovers remotely funny (mine or anyone elses). Contemptible, yes, but not amusing. It continues to puzzle (and inwardly, literally infuriate) me that the socially-expected response when one hears that someone has been hung over is to laugh and tease; the sufferer is also expected to laugh and comically wince, too. This is NOT ****ing comedic! ARGH!

Ahem.

Assuming one can minimise intoxication and avoid hangovers, the fact remains that I don't actually like the taste of any alcoholic drinks. I could like some real ales, but ideally they'd be served in quantities of about 100ml, as the first couple of mouthfuls can be pleasant, but I really don't need the remaining 80% of a pint. This is also the main reason I prefer to buy the first or second round of an evening, as I rarely really fancy a third, and it's less awkward to decline a drink when someone else is buying a later round than to buy that later round but omit myself. Somehow that exposes the unalloyed social obligation aspect and (inaccurately!) implies resentment at having to fulfill it. The result is that I end up buying myself a pint I don't want.

I don't like spirits. I used to think vodka was okay, but having tried Polish zubrowka, etc., the charcoal-filtered Swedish and Russian versions prevalent in the UK don't do it for me at all. Like the flavour of some beers, the sensation of the first swallow of vodka can be pleasant, but subsequent swallows are just a rapid route to drunkenness.

Whisky embarrasses me. I mean that when someone offers me a glass of their 'treasure', their particular favourite, no doubt expensive whisky, I feel awkward declining it, and even worse accepting, as it does nothing for me. I don't particularly like whisky, and the subtleties of a fine single malt are lost on me. I'd much rather the owner savours it himself (curiously I don't know any female whisky drinkers) than waste it on me, yet I feel expressing this would be a barrier to friendship, merely highlighting the lack of a shared interest.

Red wine is okay occasionally, though one glass is more than enough. If I was forced to state a favourite alcoholic drink, it would be fairly dry white wine. Yet I wouldn't rank it much higher than 'passable'. As with whisky, expensive wine is totally wasted on me. I feel confident I could distinguish between a £15/bottle wine and one costing £4.99 (and wouldn't pay less - let's not be foolish about this), but the fact remains that a can of Coke would be preferable to a glass of either.

I doubt I'll remain 'teetotal' (a word coined about 20 miles from here, as it happens), though I don't doubt I could, quite happily, if it wasn't for the social aspect. I can't deny I'd feel foolish routinely ordering Coke in a pub, not to mention paying inflated bar prices for it. It's not that I object to alcohol, and as the price of admission to social gatherings, it's acceptable. It's just that given a free choice of taking or leaving it, I'd have a nice cup of tea, please. A little milk and one sugar, thanks. Lovely.

The distinction is that I believe 'anything goes' so long as no other individual is adversely affected. If you want to worship a deity or engage in homosexual activities (to pick two topics at random), that's entirely fine with me, so long as I don't have to know and non-participants are unaffected. If you want to run through the streets killing people, the needs of wider society clearly take precedence over your individual desire.

Likewise, I don't feel it would be appropriate for online activities to be collectively regulated. For example, if parents don't want their children to visit certain websites, that's for the parents to deal with, and no reason to ban access for everyone else. Yet connecting to the internet from an unsecured computer is a genuine risk to others, so for the benefit of all, a basic level of regulation would be justifiable.

Driving a car without a licence is rightfully illegal, whether due to not having learned to drive (ignorance) or due to having been proved to be a bad driver (negligence). The analogy easily extends to use of networked computers. Once a basic competence (on the part of the computer's software, not necessarily the user's personal knowledge!) has been proved, the user's choice of destination is no business of 'the authorities' or even one's peers.

I won't rant, honest. However, one rhetorical question: how does US law even permit this? The principle of 'innocent until proven guilty' is fundamental. If law enforcement agencies have a concrete, provable reason to track a specific individual, that's one thing, but contemptuously treating every visitor as a potential criminal, systematically recording personal details 'just in case', can only be adopting the diametrically opposite principle: 'presumed guilty until proven innocent'.

Speaking of presumption, I presume US visitors to the UK will be treated identically. No? Why not?

And no, this posting is not anti-American. I'd object to any regime attempting to make foreigners jump through hoops and show undeserved deference, as if it's a privilege to visit rather than a commercial benefit to the host nation.

The £10m is apparently to be spent on publicising the topic, whereas I'd prefer to see a large proportion of that being invested in subsidising and 'pump-priming' recycling activities.
Here in Lancaster, doorstep collections of recyclable materials exclude plastic bottles, as the council claims there's no market for them (I wonder if they know about China...). Local recycling companies say they receive insufficient quantities of plastic waste to justify their processing costs. The council can't supply enough plastic, so the recyclers can't justify the cost of recycling plastics, so the council doesn't collect plastic, so the recyclers don't receive enough plastic to make a fair profit... circular logic.
However, if the council collected plastics, at a loss, the recyclers might be in a position to accept the increased quantities, thereby creating a market which the council could supply, at an eventual profit. Government subsidies in the loss-making stage could make all the difference.

Secondly, though I welcome any attempt to educate the public about better use of resources, recycling is only part of that, and not necessarily the top priority.
The very acts of collecting, transporting and processing materials use resources, most obviously non-renewable hydrocarbons. The Guardian, in its coverage of the same government announcement, mentions the estimate that every tonne of glass recycled saves more than a tonne of raw materials. Great, but the glass still has to be collected, sorted, transported to recyclers and melted down for its next purpose. Quarrying and refining raw materials are avoided, which is indeed to be applauded, but the remainder of the manufacturing/distribution stages still apply in full.
It would be better to encourage people to:

• Use only as much as you need, of what you need. Avoid pointless extras and extraneous packaging. For example, if a shop automatically offers carrier bags, decline unless you really need one.
• If you have to buy something, reuse what you can. I can't stress this enough - it's more important than recycling. If you did accept the carrier bag in the previous example, remember to take it to the shop with you next time, so you won't need a second bag. Why store leftovers in containers bought for the purpose, if you already have ice-cream tubs and jam jars in the house? I'm not absolutely certain whether it still happens, but for decades Norwegian supermarkets and soft drink manufacturers have been reusing plastic bottles - empties are returned to the shops and later reappear on the shelves.
• If you do need to buy something, and can't reuse it, then recycle.
• If you need something which can't be reused, nor recycled, question whether you really do need it.
  If you do, that's fine; I'm not suggesting some sort of austere 'right-on' lifestyle (I am not now, nor ever have been, a member or supporter of the Green Party)! I'm only proposing a little thought.

The point of this entry is a comment on one of the blog postings:

On the whole, I think I live by that tenet. For example, I rarely visit local corner shops, as supermarkets are objectively better suited to my lifestyle and requirements. Could this attitude cause the eventual closure of family-owned corner shops? Too bad; in my view they're obsolete.
Hmm. I'm repeating myself.

If 25,000 tonnes of used plastic bottles are collected each year, and 10-15,000 tonnes go to China, there has to be a negative effect for the UK recycling sector. I don't have a problem with the socio-economic aspect. If foreign recyclers can genuinely outcompete UK firms, fine; I'm no protectionist. However, that's not at any cost. If foreign firms cut costs via exploitative labour practices or polluting industrial processes (small, low-tech Chinese recycling firms have been known to burn plastics and contaminate rivers), it's not genuine competition, and is unsupportable.

The aspect which makes me despair is that the very idea of exporting hundreds of thousands of tonnes of waste for processing thousands of miles away goes against one of the most fundamental objectives of recycling: to minimise usage of resources.
It may make greater financial sense to send a shipping container of plastic to China than to Scotland from England, as a UK plastics recycler says in the article, but there are more costs than money itself.
For one thing, consider the quantity of fossil fuels required to power the ship. A secondary problem is that plastic bottles are a low weight, high bulk commodity, so each container and hence each ship carries a surprisingly low mass of plastic; long-distance transport is one of the less efficient parts of the entire recycling process.

Once processing is completed, what happens to that plastic? Does it make sense to transport it all the way back to Britain, either as pellets for UK manufacturers or in consumer goods made in China? Or should it stay in China for domestic use? The latter might seem sensible, but that leaves the UK as a net exporter; we still need plastic for packaging, so have to make more, at further expense of energy and (non-renewable) raw materials. Is that really recycling?

I'm beginning to rant, so will stop. Read the article, which covers several other aspects I haven't mentioned.

The same applies to other bands. My predisposition towards the music of Jethro Tull was enough reason for me to try online samples of 'Rupi's Dance' last year, but I didn't like what I heard, so I didn't buy that Ian Anderson 'solo' album. The fact I host the Tull Tour History, which features setlists of recent concerts, doesn't mean I have the remotest interest in attending one.

• Mass-media news is biased. Pretty much anything that is published/broadcast has undergone a process of interpretation and paraphrasing to meet the constraints of its medium, and hence been filtered through the perceptions (and agenda, if one wishes to be cynical) of journalists, editors and proprietors. The same applies to most online sources, but one can readily read accounts from a range of providers rather than blindly trusting one or two, which merely establish and sustain preconceptions.
• In addition to how news is reported, there's an editorial decision on what is reported, and its relative prominence (front or inner pages of a newspaper, or position in the running order of a news broadcast). There's a mildly infamous example of ITN devoting 7-10 minutes of a 30-minute bulletin to the merits of a new variety of vacuum cleaner, whilst failing to find even thirty seconds to report the deaths of hundreds of people in an incident in Africa. If one reads news from a range of sources (as facilitated by the internet), in an order of one's own choosing, the external editorial control is, in turn, controlled by the recipient (but remember my previous posting: provider-led information can fill knowledge gaps the recipient hadn't noticed).

Yet this is the biggest disadvantage, too. One can find anything one wishes to know, but what if one doesn't know what one wishes to know? Access to specific information is wonderful, but one needs a wider perspective too, from context and ancillary information.
For example, one might do research online with a view to purchasing a digital camera, and find as much information as one could ever need on, say, lens properties, without realising that on-board image processing and file compression are also important. Reading a print magazine might give much the same information about lenses as the magazine's web site, but in finding the print article, one gets to browse through several other, only tangentially relevant articles and advertisements which give a more rounded perspective on digital cameras and photography as a whole.

Likewise, one might read a Peter Gabriel interview online, but miss the article on The Mars Volta over the page, as in the May 2004 issue of Record Collector magazine. One might read online reviews of the Autumn 2003 Porcupine Tree tour, but never consider it from the point of view of the band's drum technician - unless one happens to read the April 2004 issue of Carbon Nation. In the former situation, an unexpected magazine article might introduce one's newest favourite band (not that it did - TMV do little for me), whereas the latter adds a new angle to an old favourite.

There's plainly a place for user-led searches for specific information, but there's also a continuing need for externally-provided information, or 'provider-led' provision. I make a point of reading web/graphic design magazines, as much to learn, say, specific Photoshop techniques, as to read what others think is significant.

I'd suggest that many of the alleged incompatibilities between government approaches to urban and rural areas are dominated by a small number of high-profile issues (hunting in particular), but this must be compounded by a fact I hadn't appreciated: as shown in the BBC's graphic, the Conservative party dominate rural constituencies (the majority of England, by area; the article says Wales too, but that's sloppy journalism and the Tories hold no Welsh constituencies, so far as I'm aware) but are virtually unknown in the cities, and vice versa for Labour. This means the usual bipartisan political battles become characterised as 'urban vs. rural' conflicts artificially, perhaps by journalists seeking a novel angle.

As a whole, I do feel the article has an over-emotive editorial bias, but a sceptical reader will find several points of interest, which one can interpret for oneself.

I agree with one statement, if not in quite the way the author implies:

I really, really must take a holiday.

Like Adis, I was unable to afford to travel in my teens or even throughout my twenties, and childhood holidays were always to the same 2-3 places. Those constraints are no longer an excuse, but I still haven't travelled anything like as widely as my friends. Last year, I took over a week less leave than my annual allocation allows; this year it seems I'll lose closer to a fortnight.

In writing this, it occurs to me that I've never been a tourist. Of the restricted number of places I've visited, it's always been to work or to visit people, so I've lived as/with a local. I've never, ever been into a travel agent to book a holiday; it's always been flight-only, with accommodation already arranged and daily expenses handled as they arose.

A new leaf may need to be turned.

To be absolutely clear: I don't remotely question the evidence that plant extracts, etc. may be appropriate treatments for a large number of conditions, and herbalism is a valid aspect of modern medicine, but I strongly feel their success is because they contain certain chemicals which happen to occur naturally, not because there is some mystical significance to the mere fact that they grew in a field.

If an active ingredient can be specifically identified and synthesised, and the resulting molecules are absolutely indistinguishable from the natural ones, why not use them? The only possible difference is intangible, a disturbing matter of prejudice or blind faith, with no rational justification. It's black & white division into "natural='good', synthetic='bad'" - not a quality judgement of 'better/worse', but a moral one of 'good/bad'. On a practical level, that might have a psychosomatic effect in those who hold such prejudices, but c'mon - really.

Despite his taste for 1960s 'hippy-rock', I was surprised that J, a graduate-level nuclear physicist, would feel otherwise. Unfortunately, we didn't pursue the point, so I still don't know why. It seems he understood my view, and acknowledged that there is scope for illogical extremism, even hypocrisy, citing a mutual acquaintance who relies on amphetamines and ecstasy to work tremendously long days running his business. He was almost hospitalised recently due to physical exhaustion, but was very reluctant to accept a prescription from a doctor, preferring to buy remedies from the local 'whole food' shop.
He'd happily consume illicit, synthetic chemicals on a daily basis, which have had no appreciable quality-control or safety testing, but would reject thoroughly-tested and certified prescription medicines, solely because they aren't derived directly from nature.

NP: The Beatles 'Abbey Road'

Personally, I wouldn't choose a laptop, both for reasons of usability and value for money - a desktop PC of the same cost would have a rather better specification. Hence, I was researching the purchase pretty much from scratch; I have a reasonable knowledge of PCs, but laptops are new to me.

So far as I could tell, the best choice for K's needs is from Dell; a 2.6GHz Inspiron 1150. A slight complication is that K. has just moved house, so her credit card address won't match her home address yet; Dell won't deliver to her. Instead, our mother will be buying it, it will be sent to that address, and K. will collect it from there. Inconvenient but uncontroversial.

However, the order process includes this section:

You WHAT!? I'd resent providing such details to the UK government, never mind a foreign regime which has no relevance in this situation. The computer will be built in Ireland and shipped to the UK; that the parent company of Dell UK happens to be a US corporation simply doesn't matter.

If I'd been buying for myself, that'd be it; I'd go elsewhere. As it is, I continued the order, but ensured my own details don't appear on it.

No offence to individual US citizens, but your government has a serious attitude problem. This isn't 'Planet USA'; the USA is only one country of over 260, and I owe no more allegiance to it than to Canada, Vanuatu or Morocco, to pick three at random. Why the US government feels able to impose its whims on foreign nationals who aren't even interested in the USA mystifies, and offends, me.

Apart from the religious allusion, I couldn't agree more. Those who complain most about rural development are at best naïve romantics, at worst selfish luddites who'd like their little corner of England (since I'm addressing sterotypes, I might as well characterise them as 'little Englanders' rather than Brits) to emulate some pre-industrial idyll which was pure fantasy centuries ago.

Have another look at these photos. I'd like to think others would agree that engineering structures have a grandeur of their own.

Practitioners of certain religions undergo particular actions or hardships in this life, in the expectation of reward in the next or indeed to avoid punishment in the afterlife. Expressed this way, this seems like selfishness through selflessness, but that thought invites digression into a whole different issue, heavily laden with value judgements, so I won't pursue it here!

Take two definitions of 'selflessness', from dictionary.com:

As noted by Nathaniel Branden in his thought provoking 'Reflections on the Ethics of Selflessness':

People might accept certain duties not because they particularly want to, but because they, as individuals, feel it is the 'right' thing to do. This may even mean acting contrary to the individual's own welfare, such as rushing into a burning building to save someone, but the motivator is still that individual's love for the partner or family member, or sense of obligation to do whatever one can even for a stranger.

A person mightn't wish to perform a certain action at all, but does so anyway, for reasons of self-preservation due to a fear of punishment or retribution from others. An extreme example would be a soldier going into battle and killing others, rather than be shot as a deserter.

I'm sure anyone reading this can think of someone well-known as 'selfless'. The first that springs to my mind is Mother Theresa. I very much doubt her work in Calcutta was motivated by self-gratification or a desire for glory, but because she, as an individual, felt it was the right thing to do, and she was complying with her personal and religious morals.

I suppose the only truly selfless action would be an entirely random one, though even that might be ascribed to the individual's whim, so that only leaves totally inadvertent, accidental actions, driven by no motivation whatsoever. That's getting a little abstract, though!

If I was selfish, I'd take the time to refine this argument, but I have work to do (yes, on a Sunday). If I don't study a stack of completed job applications in time for the shortlisting meeting tomorrow morning, the process will be delayed, others will be inconvenienced, and I will be open to (unspoken) criticism. Hence, it is in my interest to post this 'as-is' and read the applications, even though I'm not being paid for the extra time, to protect and infinitesimally improve my position.

In a way, the stereotype is simplistic, and there are exceptions (my sister has visited many more destinations than me, and I suspect there's an element of 'ticking off' places, visiting for the sake of visiting), just as masculine and feminine characteristics form a spectrum, not moieties.

For example, whilst I seem to feel the more 'feminine' motivation for visiting somewhere, the stereotype would imply I'm interested in meeting and understanding people, which is only partly accurate, as my character tends to be a little more abstract, even clinical; I seek to understand, but not necessarily empathise, or at least not on the superficial level of making casual acquaintances.

A further example of the disparity: in the first sentence of that last paragraph, I can't decide whether the word should be 'feel' or 'experience' - subtly different. If I'm honest, I think I mean both, or something between.

NP: Bass Communion 'InteractiveDJ Mix' (2000)

The resulting poem may be beautiful, profound or otherwise praiseworthy, but I'd have to question whether that's in spite of conformity to a restrictive artificial structure, and whether the form itself adds anything to the result.

I suspect many thousand technically-correct villanelles are artistically just plain awful, the authors having stifled true creativity in the laboured effort to meet a strict definition.

Which certainly isn't a comment on GF's example! I'm speaking in general.

Unfortunately, the attempt to sue institutions such as Congress and the President failed on Monday, when the supreme court dismissed the challenge. This wasn't on the merits of the issue itself, but for the technical reason that the father hasn't established the legal right to speak for the child. Nicely dodged, your honours.

At least this leaves the opportunity for someone else to try....

Incidentally, the Guardian's reporting of the story prominently stresses the father is an atheist, which might partly explain why he took offence at the wording of the pledge, but it's not strictly relevant, and this shouldn't be dismissed as an attack on religion itself, just its suitability in a compulsory part of the school day.

We (the North West England EU constituency) were one of the four regions participating in the UK's all-postal ballot experiment. Discounting small-scale hassles (wildly hyped by the media) involving ballot papers printed wrongly & hence distributed a matter of hours late and a couple of individual cases of malpractice, it seems to have worked okay, with a projected turnout almost double that of the 1999 elections. That had been appallingly apathetic; I understand the expected turnout is still only 40% of the electorate.
When one puts the constituency into the context of its representation in Europe, the electorate's lack of interest is disturbing.
The constituency stretches 143 miles (230 km) from Crewe to Carlisle, including Liverpool and Manchester, so contains more than five million voters. That's more than 11 entire EU member states. We're represented in the European Parliament by nine MEPs, the same number as the whole of Latvia and a third as many as the whole of the Netherlands.

I'm not going to comment on the party politics, beyond saying that I found it very difficult to allocate my vote; had there been a 'none of the above' option, I wouldn't have hesitated. I'm uncomfortable with the idea of wasting a vote as a protest (though that's still a vote of sorts), so I gave it a lot of thought.

A few thoughts on the voting process itself:

The array of envelopes, ballot paper and instructions were mildly daunting, and I can imagine some being put-off voting. On examination, it was straightforward, but I feel the presentation could be improved.

In short, the process was:

• Sign a declaration that one is the person named on the form, in the presence of a witness who countersigns the form and states his/her address.
  
• Vote on the ballot paper.
  
• Place the ballot paper into Envelope 'A'.
  
• Place Envelope 'A' and the declaration of identity into Envelope 'B', ensuring that a bar code aligns with a 'window' in the envelope.

This is a trivial point, but avoidably foolish: as the image shows, the pre-folded ballot paper was much larger than both envelopes, so had to be folded again. Why not pre-fold the paper to fit the envelopes, or provide larger envelopes? The outer envelope used to send me the whole voting pack was of an appropriate size, so why not the others?

A more serious point, though possibly a little paranoid, is that there was far less assurance of a secret ballot than the usual process of voting in person.

If I attended a polling station, my identity might be checked, then I'd be given an unnumbered ballot paper. Short of fingerprints or DNA testing, there'd be no means of subsequently matching my identity to a specific ballot paper.
In the postal vote, a bar code and serial number on the ballot paper corresponded to those on the declaration of identity, which obviously stated my name and address. The intention was for the election officials to open Envelope 'B', file the declaration, then process Envelope 'A' entirely separately, but one had to simply trust them to do so; I don't.

Not that anyone would be interested in my vote, but I'm speaking in general. It wouldn't be difficult to sideline the votes of prominent people, such as suspected political activists. More worryingly, it would be entirely possible to trace votes back to voters.
Previously, one could have the confidence that even if state agencies had such an intent, the sheer volume of papers would render the exercise impractical, but bar codes can be scanned at a rate of hundreds per hour, and automatically matched to the computerised electoral register.

Hypothetically, a list of those who voted for, say, the BNP, could be compiled and cross-checked against the employee records of local education authorities, identifying teachers who secretly support that distasteful but entirely legal far-right organisation. By exercising their democratic right, such teachers could affect their career advancement. But that wouldn't happen in the good old UK - yeah, right.
Imagine if this facility had been available to the British Government in Northern Irish elections at the height of the violent times. Do you really think they wouldn't have exploited the ability to identify 'troublemakers'?

Quite apart from the the issue of treating the wrongly arrested as criminals, as always I object to government agencies having any personal information 'just in case it becomes handy in the future'. If there is a specific investigation for which information is required, I'll consider providing it, so long as a) I retain the right to refuse, and b) it is destroyed afterwards, but I'm not prepared to contribute to a permanent database facilitating blanket monitoring of the populace.

In the same article, a spokesperson of Liberty implies that the DNA data ultimately could be passed on to other agencies such as the NHS or medical insurers; I'm unconvinced that this is a realistic suggestion, but one has to consider now how data might be used in 10-20 years.

I have a poor memory for text: I can't quote lyrics, poetry, or lines from films or books. If I understand something, I can assimilate it properly, but if I need to simply memorise abstract information, especially as text, it's a problem. This might partially explain my (apparent) inability to learn languages, and my near-failure at 'A'-Level Chemistry.
In Polish, Saturday is 'Sobota', but dlaczego? It just is; it's not debatable or something to understand, it can only be memorised. Or not.
Usage helps, by setting a context; I don't struggle with "Dobranoc". It's the abstraction that's the problem. If I was working with organic chemistry on a daily basis, I'm sure I'd soon learn the structural differences between an aldehyde and a ketone, but as a frankly uninterested 17-year-old, it just wasn't going to happen.

Oddly, I am able to recall lyrics in the context of their song, just not in isolation. As I write, this sentence I'm listening to something familiar ('Easter', by Marillion) as a test, and can remember the lyrics word-perfectly, about a line ahead of h singing them. At this precise moment, the guitar solo is drawing to a close, and I don't have a clue about the next line... yes; I got it, but not until h was drawing breath for the first word.

Another article which highlights why I dislike Macs (and related products), for purely aesthetic reasons (as a user of a Windows box, I can hardly criticise Macs on technical grounds).

The look of the thing means absolutely nothing to me; functionality is all that matters in a music player. If it works well, great; if it does so without being noticed, so much the better.

"But it's gorgeous."
"But it's a ****ing MACHINE!"

Here's another back-reference to a post on this subject.

At school, there were ~180 pupils in my year group, divided into classes of manageable size (~30) according to ability. I was in the 'top set' for all (academic) subjects except Maths. I don't remember how that happened, but once it had, the eventual outcome of my education was predetermined. Whilst the top Maths class grasped concepts fairly quickly, the teacher was obliged to adopt a slower pace with my group, and teaching the bottom set was an exercise in crowd control. Consequently, only the top set studied the full curriculum. After five years of compulsory secondary education, my knowledge of quadratic equations is limited to the name alone.
A second implication was that the different groups sat different final exams: in the middle set, the maximum achievable grade was a 'C'. That restriction wasn't known at the outset. Once my parents and I realised, there was an effort to transfer me, but it was risky. I had a reasonable expectation of managing the 'C', but the higher paper tested topics I simply hadn't been taught, so there was a real risk of failing outright. Since a 'C' was adequate for admission to the next stage of education ('A' levels) and I had no wish to pursue mathematically-intense subjects, I took the safe alternative. I managed it (easily, as it happens), but have been left with limited confidence.

However, I'm beginning to learn that basic logic and lateral thinking have a greater role than I'd previously thought, so maybe I do have a chance. To calculate something like the volume of a sphere (volume of a cone: that's something else I was never taught), one simply must know the formula, so I'm right to give up, but for arithmetic situations like the price of keys, there is hope.

1: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, find line 4. Write down what it says:

"Most tags define and affect a discrete region of your document. The region begins..."
'HTML & XHTML: The Definitive Guide, 5th Ed.'
Boring answer, but that's the nearest book!

2: Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What do you touch first?

The curtain. A yellow bit.

3: What is the last thing you watched on TV?

'The Tailor Of Panama' (1999). Nothing special, but I was tired.

4: WITHOUT LOOKING, guess what the time is:

13:55.

5: Now look at the clock; what is the actual time?

13:51. Not bad!

6: With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?

If I listen carefully, I can hear two clocks ticking, but they're almost drowned out by Marillion 'Marbles' disc 1, specifically 'Ocean Cloud', which is currently my favourite track of the new album.

7: When did you last step outside? What were you doing?

About two hours ago, I made the 2-min cycle ride to feed Jack & Millie, A. & A's cats, for the last time in a while, as A. & A. return from Scotland this evening.

8: Before you came to this website, what did you look at?

Hmm. I saved these questions to disc, and am answering in my web editor (HomeSite) rather than via a website. I don't remember which site I viewed before Neil's (apart from the blogroll of my own site, where you're reading this!).

Before I came to the computer, I looked at the dishes.

9: What are you wearing?

Black 'Porcupine Tree' T-shirt, black combat trousers, black German para boots. You don't want to know about underwear - do you?
If it's more exciting: I'm wearing shiny black leather... boots.

10: Did you dream last night?

I don't remember doing so.

11: When did you last laugh?

Earlier today when I read a BBC report, reproduced by Neil Gaiman (a Mini driver) about a Belgian driver having received a speeding ticket for driving his Mini at Mach 3 (3,380 kmh / 2,100 mph).

12: What is on the walls of the room you are in?

On the walls.... Horrible textured wallpaper painted peach, plus, anti-clockwise from the door:

• A framed print of Dante Gabriel Rossetti's 'Dante's Dream at the Time of the Death of Beatrice', my favourite painting in the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool.
  
• A cheap wall clock (though it looks okay) from Ikea.
  
• A cork notice board, almost covered by postcards, two photos, a cinema schedule and some notes I made comparing Marx and Foucault. Really.
  
• Two calendars on the same nail. I have the Ted Naismith 'Lord Of The Rings' (nothing to do with the films!) calendar, and the Marillion calendar. Each month I choose which picture I prefer. This month, Marillion won, so covers the LOTR one.

13: Seen anything weird lately?

Not that I can think of, which is itself weird.

14: What do you think of this quiz?

Pretty good. Random, but interesting, and it provokes decent answers.

15: What is the last film you saw?

See Q.3. Before that: 'Jay And Silent Bob Strike Back' (2002). Nowhere near as good as 'Dogma' (1999), which is what made me watch it, though the PVC catsuits were a slight compensation. Ahem.

16: If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy first?

Ooh, the first clichéd question. Dunno. Having money is not something I think about. Flippant answer: first I'd buy a can of Coke, inwardly complaining that individual cans are needlessly expensive compared to buying a pack of 24 every few weeks. The first 'big' thing I'd probably buy would be a larger house.

17: Tell me something about you that I don’t know.

Last night I discovered four lumps in my forearm. Yes, I'm concerned. I'm seeing a surgeon (my sister) this afternoon anyway, so I'll definitely mention it to her. I'm (obviously) hoping they're just lypomas - fatty subcutaneous deposits.

18: If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?

This is difficult - I'm struggling to think of something that doesn't sound trite or pretentious, and failing. How about: I'd have everyone take environmental damage seriously, with the consequent radical changes to daily lifestyles, transport policies and industrial practices. If it's part of the same fantasy deal, I'd wipe away the damage that has already been done.

19: Do you like to dance?

No. Just: no.

20: George Bush: is he a power-crazy nutcase or some one who is finally doing something that has needed to be done for years?

I regard the man as a personal risk to my wellbeing. Extremely dangerous, and I can't condemn him enough. I don't have the vaguest interest in US party politics, but anyone, Republican, Democrat or whatever, would be preferable to Bush.

21: Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?

Rhiannon. It's not something I've overtly considered, as I don't want children, but that'd be a good one - distinctive, attractive, but not something she'd be teased about.

22: Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?

That's more of a struggle, for some reason. Something Celtic or Slavic, nothing stereotypically English, and emphatically nothing biblical, on principle.

23: Would you ever consider living abroad?

Hypothetically, yes. As a teenager, I wanted to live in Norway after completing my path through the education system, but I was still at university at the age of 29, when I had no money to re-establish myself and had already settled in Lancaster. I've also acknowledged that the draw of Norway was partly that it was somewhere to escape everyday concerns about relationships, my PhD, etc. - I was escaping from, not going to, and that's not a sustainable reason to move.
On the one occasion the subject seriously arose, when I was between jobs and moving to live with Helen in Warszawa, Poland was a real option, I decided not to, partly because I didn't like the city sufficiently to consider it a potential home (fine to visit, just not to live and work) and I had too much invested in Lancaster as my home; even more so now that I've bought a house.

Putting aside this specific instance, one of the aspects of politics and its media coverage I find particularly dispiriting is the desire to ascribe blame and score points in the adversarial game. Something goes wrong, someone simply has to go. Irrespective of whether a person is genuinely and personally at fault, and whether the consequent disruption to a department's activities is really justified, the mob has to see blood, and someone has to be seen to be sacrificed. Then the story can be forgotten and other issues sensationalised.

Another example: in early February, University of Wales Swansea announced plans to close five departments. The immediate knee-jerk response from the AUT was to call for the resignation of the new Vice-Chancellor. The VC, Prof. Richard Davies, was a Pro-VC of Lancaster University until a few months ago - he's been in his current post for a matter of weeks. Would it make some sense to work with him a little longer, to build a working relationship which might benefit the University as a whole? No, there must be a scapegoat. The departments would go anyway, the relationship between administrators and lecturers would become more confrontational, and there'd be less opportunity for consensual restructuring of the University.
But someone would have lost his job, so that's all okay, then.

A good emotive tabloid start: a cheap pun followed by a questionable assertion: 'leading' is subjective and unquantifiable.

Okay, but strip out the sensationalist wording, and consider whether the scientist literally said this, or whether this is Browne's own selective paraphrasing of their exact words.

Good build up: Prof. Clift, who has relevant qualifications, was speaking at the premises of a historic organisation (two invocations of 'royal' helps, too), in the national capital. Whatever he goes on to say simply must be absolutely and unquestionably definitive.

True, and uncontroversial. Only the aforementioned build up makes it appear so.
Note that he says that 'recycling is not a solution to everything', rather than 'recycling is a solution to nothing', which isn't quite the way Browne presents it in the opening sentence of the article.

So change the emphasis - which I suspect was Prof. Clift's perfectly reasonable point, rather than Browne's initial claim that "recycling is a load of rubbish".

Okay.

See what I mean about oversimplified proposals being presented as absolute fact?
I'm afraid the positioning of my annotation distorts the positioning of the original sentence in the article: I'd better clarify that it's Browne's preamble to the following sentence, not a continuation of Prof. Clift's words.

I'll take his word for that - it's not a subject I know much about. However, I'm certainly not aware of any facility in the UK that would currently be able to perform this function on an industrial scale.

Sounds impressive, but is perfectly obvious. Ash takes up drastically less space than unburned fuel. And?
Okay, this is a cheap criticism: ‘landfill’ is not a verb. A professional journalist working as an 'Environment' editor should know that.

A misleading non sequitur. Methane can be collected and used as fuel, and there might be enough to generate the megawattage described. However, the UK currently has neither the infrastructure nor the power stations to do this.

This is the key point, with which I entirely agree: reuse is better than recycling, and better than both is to minimise/avoid usage in the first place.

Oh; who cares what FoE say?

The location of this sentence in the overall story blatantly introduces a negative spin: having repeatedly proposed the argument that recycling is the wrong strategy, to suddenly introduce a contradictory statement makes it seem the Labour party is ignoring overwhelming scientific advice and acting irrationally.
Note also that though all the experts in this article are mentioned as having high academic qualifications in relevant departments of named universities, nothing is said about Ms. Ruddock's knowledge of the subject, nor that of her advisors.
I'm not defending the Labour party, nor the philosophy and implementation of increased recycling targets, but the unspoken implications in this line of Browne's piece are unfairly manipulative.
Oh, and why mention the MP's party allegiance at all, if not to make a snide point?

Panniers are an eminently sensible way for a cycle commuter such as myself to transport items to and from work, or to do my weekly shopping. However, I'm not a self-important cycling activist nor a member of the Green Party, so I stick with my rucksack.

A Leatherman multi-tool would be rather handy, to tighten the screws in my glasses for instance, yet the only people around Lancaster who carry such tools are the University's computer technicians (no problem with them) and, much worse, wannabe techie geeks. I'll definitely keep my Swiss army knife!
That's a little unfair: the multi-tools are fine. The objectionable aspect is the little leather carrying pouch, particularly when openly worn on a belt, like a pathetic imitation of a weapon holster.

However, when split into categories, I don't entirely agree with the interpretation:

No. This implies a strong awareness of social standards and a deliberate, even pretentious, effort to act against them, merely to be perverse. I don't acknowledge that as being in my character. My world view is my own; if it corresponds to some cultural norms and differs from others, that's simply irrelevant to me.

No. I respect the standards of others, and don't deliberately offend, but that's basic courtesy, not a wish to conform to others' standards, about which I'm simply indifferent.

That's a fair statement.

As I left the house this morning, I just happened to be thinking about the possibility/viability of people paying for medical services where their condition could be directly attributed to their lifestyle, rather than everyone paying to support the (knowingly) dangerous practices of others.
Smoking tobacco is dangerous. It is unreasonable to claim ignorance of that, yet people continue to smoke. That's their right, but I do feel that in doing so they, personally, should bear the cost of any medical treatment directly attributable to smoking. Obviously, it would be impractical to make a smoker pay for chemotherapy at the time it's required, so the only logical solution would be to tax the activities, to fund any future treatments. I'm too cynical to believe that the existing tax on tobacco products goes directly to the National Health Service (NHS) (rather, it's just a revenue stream for all Government activities), but I'll indulge a little idealism for once, in saying that it should.

Coincident with my train of thought, I see in the Guardian that a Government strategy unit is considering (not 'mooting', and certainly not 'mulling', which is a truly dreadful usage) the introduction of a 'fatty food tax' on, well, fatty foods such as burgers, cheese, crisps and whole milk. As with smokers, the obese and those with unnecessarily high cholesterol knowingly risk their health, yet those with healthier diets bear the costs of treatment for heart disease, etc.

Apparently VAT is already levied on many foods associated with obesity, such as fizzy drinks and ice cream, but burgers bought in supermarkets are exempt, as are foods high in saturated fats such as butter, hard cheeses and full-fat milk. One proposal is that VAT (17.5%) should be extended to these items, but personally I'd like to see the revenue 'ring fenced' for use by the NHS rather than, say, highways, and feel that a specific 'fat tax' would be more visible as a public reminder about the issue.

Lest this be seen as 'holier than thou' pontificating, I am directly affected by this: I eat a reasonable amount of cheese (primarily cheddar), regularly use a spread containing butter (not butter itself, but not a specifically low-cholesterol spread either), and drink a lot of full-fat milk - sometimes a pint (0.47l) per day.

Incidentally, yes, I really do think about things like public policy while I'm cycling!

As the Leader article in The Observer says, this is most definitely to be welcomed, as it accepts the simple fact that British society has become secular in all but name, where church-going is now merely a pastime for a small minority.

No doubt this will be seen as an attack on organised religion, but it's not; religious beliefs have shaped Western society profoundly, and it remains appropriate to keep the subject in the school curriculum alongside comparable academic disciplines, such as history.

However, the impartial study of religions is one thing, and practice quite another. I'm still totally opposed to the practice of religion in schools.

Someone else, speaking of hip-hop:

Anyone can put pen to paper; not everyone can write a publishable novel.

To belittle a genre because it doesn't necessarily require advanced technical skills is either missing the point or refusing to accept it. Music isn't a craft, it's an art; it's not the way you do it, it's what you do (to mangle the Bananarama lyric). By the same argument, anyone can take a photo, but that certainly doesn't define photography as automatically inferior to painting.

I don't like hip-hop. I don't see the attraction at all. I feel precisely the same way about (technically-complex) 'prog' - I can respect it as a 'valid' musical form, quite independently of my personal dislike.

They're radically different, with different objectives. I don't think it's even relevant to compare them. Is the music of Holst 'better' than that of Ian Anderson? Anderson doesn't operate in the same area of music so there can be no direct competition; there's no common criterion upon which to make an objective judgement, merely personal choice. Plus social convention, but that's a separate issue.

A viewer may prefer one over the other, and in this example, I'd agree with you 100%, but personal taste can only speak in terms of like/dislike, not good/bad or valid/invalid.

Emin's art focuses on sensation (and undeniably succeeds), and on confronting the raw, often disgusting, aspects of humanity existing as animals in an artificial environment; our inability to transend the squalid physicality of our existence. That doesn't mean I like what she does, but I can't accept that it's reasonable to dismiss it.

It's important to remember art is about creativity, not merely technical ability; the distinction is one that has often been used to distinguish art from craft, artists from artisans.

See above. Art isn't craft, and ability isn't necessarily skill.

No, it's not! This is precisely my point. No-one went to Cream, the Ministry of Sound, etc. (major UK clubs) to listen to trance/garage/house/etc. music, they were there for the whole experience. The music fitted the context, and set itself objectives that are simply incompatible with sitting in one's favourite armchair listening to every nuance via thousands of pounds worth of audiophile sound equipment. That's plainly not what it's for, so it makes no sense to judge it in those terms. Experiencing rave music, or hip-hop, or opera, or cajun, or 'prog' are entirely different situations - not objectively 'better' or 'worse', just different.

That's absolutely fine. that's your opinion, and no-one can take that away from you.

I'd totally disagree. Banging two rocks together can be music.

Not a defining characteristic of music.

Some value craft and technical ability above all. Again, that's a standard set by personal preference, which is fine, but with which others might disagree.

No, it's an entirely different bar, in a different stadium.

Very true. If an artist keeps pushing, and changing, that's progressive.
To go from blues to jazz to 'prog' to folk-rock to electronica to hard rock to AOR to Eastern-inspired rock, all in a unique style, certainly is progressive (and oddly familiar...) [In case anyone misses the reference, it's a summary of the Jethro Tull back catalogue].
To record 'Tubular Bells' is progressive, but to record 'TB2', 'TB3', 'The Millennium Bell', then rerecord 'TB1' isn't progressive - but I like it.

Progressive music is that which progresses, adding something new to a particular genre, typically taking that genre in a new direction. Music of any genre can be progressive.
The progenitors of hip-hop defined a whole new genre. The act of definition was was progressive; it changed the direction of popular music. However, once established, hip-hop itself isn't progressive. Likewise, the originators of disco, or swing, or skiffle, whatever, were progressive, though those that followed in the same genre weren't. Fairport Convention were progressive at the start of the Seventies, in combining rock sensibilities with traditional English folk music to father a whole new genre, folk-rock.

'Prog rock' is the name of a specific genre. In this context 'prog' is a label, not a description. This specific genre, also known as 'symphonic rock' or 'art rock' is usually characterised by extremely long songs or instrumentals, with intricate, highly structured arrangements borrowing heavily from orchestral music.

Now the distinction: very little 'prog' is progressive, and progressive music isn't automatically 'prog'. In the early Seventies, bands such as Yes and ELP defined the 'art rock' genre, so were indeed progressive; hence the original label of 'progressive rock'. However, having carved this niche, such bands continued to release further albums in the same vein. All credit to them for finding a successful formula and sensibly sticking to it, but by definition they ceased to progress and 'prog' became just a name. To rigidly conform to an unchanging style cannot be truly progressive; some would argue that 'more of the same' is even regressive.

• Music expanding/transcending any genre can be progressive.
• Only music fitting the specific, well-defined genre is termed 'prog'.
• Music expanding/transcending the 'prog' genre could be progressive, but that's very rare nowadays.

I do deplore the idea that having given one's partner a folded piece of shiny card and a quantity of vegetation, any hint of romanticism can be ticked off and forgotten for another year. It's a cop-out, and an example of herd mentality which primarily serves the manufacturers of greetings cards.
Rather than standardised tokens on a predetermined yet arbitrary date, how about something one's partner would really appreciate, at a time of personal significance - and more frequently than each February?

Thankfully Helen is similarly scornful of Valentine's Day; indeed our shared dislike for society's petty rituals is something that draws us together. Don't worry; we'll do something, just at a time and in a way of our choosing, and by choice, not external 'obligation'.

I view the motivation differently: there is pleasure in denial. To exert self-control makes one feel good about ones self, rather more than the fleeting pleasure of surrendering to temptation, with subsequent self-loathing.

I agree that extending secret, personal satisfaction to vocal self-righteousness is annoying, but I can understand the (subconscious) reasoning.
As an observer, it would indeed be preferable for someone to practice self-denial without trying to transfer guilt onto others, with the unspoken messages "how can you eat that in front of me when you know I 'can't' have any?" and "I'm mentally strong and physically healthier for resisting, but you're weak and foolish for eating unhealthily."
However, I'm aware that some need the approval of others, so feel compelled to loudly point out their compliance with self-imposed restrictions. It's even simply social bonding, an opportunity to receive and give praise from/to friends. Only when explicitly analysed does it appear crass self-promotion; unacknowledged, it seems okay.

Undoubtedly this is only a partial view, by someone who has never experienced a weight-reduction diet; at 1.85m and 70-80kg, and male, I've never felt a need to diet. However, at certain times in my life I've needed such external markers to feel good about myself, and I know that 'worthy' denial can boost self image.

Incidentally, the restaurant, 'The Gatehouse', at White Cross, Lancaster, is normally excellent, but for once I was unimpressed. The batter on the chicken, apple and ginger fritters was undercooked, and the cod in mussel sauce was excessively salty; that might sound picky, but we split the bill as £25 each for two courses and rather ordinary wine, so one would expect better. A pity, as otherwise I'd recommend it.

Also incidentally, happy birthday Alizon!

Cyclists are road users, with most of the same rights and obligations as car or truck drivers. Mysteriously, that sometimes gets forgotten, by car drivers thinking bikes shouldn't be on the roads and should defer to other vehicles (wrong - I daily assert as much right to be there as an articulated lorry), and by some cyclists (to be fair, a tiny minority in my personal experience) thinking they have a pedestrian's right to use the pavements.
We have enough trouble from inconsiderate drivers without giving drivers a reason to think we deserve it; so long as both parties act responsibly, it shouldn't be a matter of opposing sides, just different users sharing the same road.

• If you don't have lights: get some, and either don't take your bike out after dark until you have lights, or get off and walk. An unlit bicycle is a hazard.
• If you don't feel sufficiently confident to cycle in traffic, simply don't cycle at all - the pavement is not a valid alternative. Practice on designated cycle paths or minor roads at quiet times, then main roads when you're ready.
• Traffic lights are not optional for cyclists.

I'm not sure how I feel about the titular premise of the article. On the one hand, it might deter cycle use if everyone needed a licence first. On the other hand, that might be a good idea - inexperienced cyclists can be dangerous, and are as much an annoyance to regular cycle-commuters as to any other road users. That's possibly not entirely their fault, since if they have no training whatsoever, they can't be expected to be fully competent immediately, but to use busy roads as a training ground is a bit too Darwinian!

Hence, I'd entirely support basic training for cyclists, so long as it is basic and not so onerous as to deter casual cyclists. Secondly, I feel it would be appropriate for such a scheme to be funded centrally, as a recognised budget item of transport policy, not a fee payable by cyclists.

I'd also support enforcement of existing rules - why are bad cyclists permitted to continue as they do, unchallenged by the police?

Bottom line: don't ride in a manner which damages the reputation of other cyclists, specifically me.
Oh, and try not to get yourself killed, as bad riding could so easily achieve.

Both at home and at work, my PCs are entirely plain beige boxes; at present there's a 'Liquid Tension Experiment' CD case on top of my tower at home, and I know there's a 'post-it' pad on my base unit at work. This is my desktop at home, and this is at work. The icons on the latter are those Windows won't let me delete.

[Update 21/06/06: Since I referred to it again in another entry, I took the opportunity to provide an updated screenshot of my work PC. You'll notice that all desktop icons are gone, the system tray is minimised and though there are the same number of icons in the Quick Launch toolbar, Firefox has, quite emphatically, displaced IE.]

The file organisation interface is extremely annoying: I know where I want to store files, thanks, and don't want to use the default 'My Documents' heirarchy, but it can't be adequately turned off.

I loathe Word. When I'm writing a letter, I know what I want to say and how to format it, so autocorrect, autocomplete and templated page layouts are just annoying; the 'Windows knows best' workflow 'assistance' is infuriating and, for me, pointless, so the only text editor I use is my web editor, Macromedia HomeSite.

Windows and M$ packages are overly 'helpful' in allowing one to achieve what one wants, just so long as one wants to do what Windows does, by the Windows route.

I use Windows itself, Internet Explorer, and Outlook with every single 'assistant' firmly shut off, but otherwise don't use any M$ packages at home, and few at work.

This is one reason I use a PC, not a Mac. I'm not saying 'Macs are bad', I just prefer PCs. Please don't try to drag me into a Mac vs. PC debate; I'm simply not interested in relative performance issues.
I dislike the aesthetic of using a Mac; apparently a selling point, but a major turn-off for me. A Mac is designed to have character, to be intuitive almost to the point of interactivity with its user, to become part of the household and even a companion. My computer is not my friend, it is a soulless machine. It is not a partner in the creative process but merely an inanimate tool.

I found the following a while ago, but unfortunately lost the source:

Font designer Stanley Morison said that: "Typography is the efficient means to an essentially utilitarian, and only accidently aesthetic, end, for the enjoyment of patterns is rarely the reader's chief aim."
I feel much the same way about my computer: so long as the hardware and operating system assist my productivity invisibly, I'm happy. If the working environment is pleasant, that's a bonus, just as an attractive typeface helps when reading a block of text. I like crisp, efficient Arial, fussy Times New Roman doesn't do much for me (sorry, Mr. Morison!), and I'd rarely consider using 'cute' Comic Sans. To return to the point, Macs convey a fluffy and pastel feel, whereas I'm more of a shiny black latex type. ;)

The Guardian reports a campaign by The Sun for 'sneaky' cameras to be removed. I'm not sure what is meant by 'sneaky'. Cameras on the exits of blind corners, where they can't be seen until too late? Should drivers exceed the speed limit anyway, particularly through blind corners? I'd say such cameras are entirely justified.

Later in the article:

The section of the A6 passing the junction with the University's main entrance is level and almost entirely straight for about a mile. Visibility is good, and there are few side roads. Drivers might feel the national speed limit (or greater) would be safe and acceptable, yet there's a 50 mph speed limit, and a Gatso camera about halfway along the straight section, just past the Uni. entrance as one heads into Lancaster. It seems someone thought it an inappropriate location, as the camera was destroyed by fire a couple of months ago (there's a rumour that a fresh camera is inside the blackened case).
A couple of facts to balance this apparent situation: over the decade I've been regularly using this road, I've seen 5-6 police signs requesting witnesses to serious accidents. Something else that high-speed drivers mightn't notice is that one of the lampposts always has fresh flowers at its base; evidently someone still remembers a fatality. The seemingly safe road and inappropriate camera aren't as they seem.

Please don't mistake this for self-righteousness - I've driven over the speed limit too; 80mph is a comfortable motorway cruising speed, and 70 seems reasonable in some cases where the imposed limit is 60. However, I don't regard it as a 'right', and if a speed camera, obvious or concealed, caught me, I'd accept the penalty as fair, as the simple unavoidable fact would be that I'd have broken the law.

Whether the imposed speed limits are correct is an entirely different issue; the cameras enforce the limits, but don't set them. It seems the real point behind the complaints of the roads lobby is that speed limits are too low, so drivers should be permitted to use their own judgement in ignoring the limits. In my view, that's unworkable.
Limits have to be set at a level safe for drivers of all standards of experience, whether a 17-year old heading home from the test centre with his/her brand new licence, or a sales rep who has driven tens of thousands of miles in all weather and road conditions.
Secondly, legal processes can't operate on matters of opinion ("Well, officer, I thought it was safe to go that fast"), especially when misjudgement can be fatal.
There have to be fixed limits; by all means campaign to have them changed, but whilst doing so, one has to remain within the existing ones, or accept the consequences.

The alleged 'freedom' seems to be to drive at whatever speed the driver chooses, unrestricted and unquestioned. Presumably the ABD would also argue for the unrestricted use of shotguns. No? Why not? Both driving and gun laws restrict 'freedom' by setting limits on how people can behave. The UK shotgun regulations allow people to own and use the weapons, in a safe manner in appropriate situations. Likewise with speeding laws; no-one is prevented from driving, so long as they remain within the predetermined limits.

What about penalty points and the loss of licences? If someone persistently fails to observe the limitations determined by society, the right to use public highways can, and usually should, be withheld, for the safety of others.
Freedom of mobility is not remotely the same as a right to act irresponsibly.

Some, particularly US citizens, have asked what the fuss is about; it's just a matter of a few seconds, right? Unfortunately not.

The forthcoming change in US requirements means that passports obtained after October 2004 will need to contain biometric data such as an electronic record of the bearer's fingerprint(s) or iris pattern. However, the technology to record and encode these data won't enter use until mid-2005 at the earliest. This means that nationals of the 26 countries participating in the visa-waiver scheme (which is inherently racist in judging most Europeans 'safe' and those from elsewhere as automatically suspicious) will suddenly have to obtain visas after all.

This isn't a trivial matter. For someone in, say, Lancaster, N.W.England, that means a trip to London, several hundred miles away, to queue at the US embassy to obtain a visa for £67 (USA: $120). So that's an entire day and over $200 (visa, travel to London, food, etc.) spent before even starting a trip to the USA.
There's also a security concern: this will significantly increase queues at the embassy. Think about it: a US embassy, in the UK capital, surrounded by crowds of people; could a terrorist target be much more tempting? There's no way I'd put myself in that situation.

Quite simply, I don't have that much of a desire to visit the USA.

The following is a typical US comment:

I don't want a foreign government - any foreign government - knowing more than the most basic details: who I am, and that I am a British subject, protected by that nation. Information required to verify my identity is absolutely fine, so I'd be entirely happy for an immigration officer to compare the photo in my passport with the face of the bearer (by eye or by biometric analysis), to check it's me. Similarly, I'd have no problem with an immigration officer checking my fingerprint against one stored electronically in my passport - so long as no record is kept.
If a computer is used to check the details on a passport against the physical parameters of someone claiming to be me, merely to prove I am who I claim to be, that's fine, but that's the limit of acceptability. If the computer goes on to research more about me or adds my details to a database, I object, and withhold my consent.
What use is to be made of that personal information? Who will have access to it? For what purposes? Where will it be stored? For how long? What accountability is there to me, not a c