It seems the 2007-2008 round of the hoax contains an embellishment: that Sheryl Crow's 2006 breast cancer was the direct result of drinking water from a plastic bottle exposed to sunlight.

Look; it's utter rubbish, okay? Yes, even though it does namecheck a celebrity, normally an infallible guarantee of accuracy. If you receive the 'warning' by e-mail, do not forward it to anyone or post it to your blog, as you'd be merely perpetuating a bandwidth virus and potentially scaring people unnecessarily.

Don't take my word for it: the issue has now been addressed at Snopes.

I'm pretty sure that's supposed to be 'ethnically' (then again, student ethics can indeed be questionable), but it's the 'integrative' which disturbs me.

As one would expect, there's a lightly-trodden path diagonally acoss the grass, but the greatest wear is just inside the south-eastern corner. It seems people tend to follow the surfaced path, but many turn in 2-3 paces before the corner, shaving an insignificant distance off their trips – the rebels!

I mentioned this to a colleague in Estates a while ago, who took my casual comment seriously. He's just sent me an extract from a planning document in which the phenomenon is acknowledged and countered by policy: for the past couple of years, all new/remodelled paths have had to incorporate rounded corners.

I'd have been inclined to consider landmines....

I mean; leatherette. Ew.

We have a 'Staff Learning at Work Day'? How jolly!
It's 'themed'? Fancy dress, too?
The theme is 'sustainability'? Oh, **** off.

Yes, I'm far, far too busy to publicise this non-event on the corporate website. Besides, it's not in my remit. What a shame.

Seriously: I don't know why this 'inclusivity' rubbish infuriates me, but it does.
I come to work, do the job I'm paid to, then go home. I don't give a flying **** about the workplace or community of colleagues.

I wonder whether I can book County South quad for a tyre fire party that afternoon....

'Centres' and 'Institutes' are treated likewise, so one needs to know in advance that Environmental Informatics (whatever that is) is going to be under 'C'. The only place one needn't look is under 'E'.

Oh, that's only if the typically-used name begins with 'Centre for', 'Department of', etc. – the Wordsworth Centre is under 'W', whilst Clinical Psychology, which for some unspecified reason doesn't use 'Department of', is under 'C'.

Hours of fun.

I strongly object to the supermarket making the decision for me – it's for the individual consumer to (literally) buy into slacktivism or not. And I definitely choose 'not'.
I've already discussed my opposition to Fairtrade, so I'm back on the white, at least until I discover whether shopping at Asda (on the far side of the river) is practical or whether I can start buying non-Fairtrade unrefined sugar from Booths on my way home from work.

Well... that was my immediate reaction, anyway, slightly mollified by the acknowledgement that Sainsbury's haven't imposed a 'feel good about yourself' premium, and the Fairtrade price is the same as had been applied to the non-Fairtrade product. On reflection, I have mixed feelings.

My primary objection to Fairtrade is that it's tokenism: a minority of well-meaning consumers might help a small number of selected farms, but the majority of the sugar, tea, banana, etc. industries continue as normal. It'd be far better to meaningfully reform the large-scale markets than make barely-noticable gestures.

Yet, contrary to my typically cynical expectations, that real change might actually be happening. Major retailers like Sainsbury's have massive purchasing power. The volumes of sugar they buy will at least assist large numbers of farms, and may influence governments and international markets. Obliging somewhat hostile consumers like me to participate, though of questionable morality, might be what's needed to achieve a critical mass.

It pains me to say it, but perhaps forced collective action is what's needed.

• Most profoundly, it just wouldn't be British. One of the fundamental, and best, aspects of the (mythical?) 'national character' is a quiet pride, free of demonstrative patriotism or reverence for symbols. As I've discussed before, the national flag isn't flown routinely or considered in anything like the same way as US citizens regard their flag. We don't have a 'national day' (though that's in Goldsmith's report, too).
• Secondly, the 'national character' is something of an anachronism: the UK isn't as united as it once was, and there are active campaigns to dissolve it outright. If people feel overt allegiance to anything (and see the previous point), it's possibly more likely to be to Wales, Scotland, England or another of the UK's constituent parts. For many, the UK, governed from Westminster, is a little too analogous to 'England'. Of course, that means the English are quite comfortable with the concept of 'Britishness', but not non-English Brits like me.
• The third reason is an irrelevance, or rather, regards an irrelevance: I don't know of anyone who'd be inclined to offer the remotest allegiance to the monarch. That's not republicanism; just indifference.

I'm me, an individual, loyal to myself, friends and family. Inasmuch as I consider nationality at all, I'm British, then Welsh, then European (depending on my mood, sometimes that order of priority is Specifically-Not-English then British, etc.). I don't regard myself as a citizen, with any loyalty to the state.

[Update 18/03/07: Having just returned to the country of pointlessly different money and driving habits (i.e. driving on the left) after a visit to Paris, I'm inclined to modify that order: individual, then European, then British, then Welsh, and still Specifically-Not-English. For passport purposes, European would be my preference.]

I don't read newspapers (in print) and only watch specific TV programmes (typically video'd so I can skip the adverts), my wall calendar is in German, and I suddenly realised I haven't been in a high-street shop since something like last October, so I suppose I'm no longer exposed to the sort of ambient social environment which would have informed me sooner.

It doesn't matter in this case, as I feel the same way about Mothers' Day as about Valentine's (i.e. show your genuine appreciation at a time of individual significance – more frequently than annually – rather than on a day designated by greetings card manufacturers, and not merely by posting a piece of plasticised cardboard), so I don't acknowledge the synthetic 'occasion'.
However, I'll have to watch it – I really ought to be at least aware of popular culture. Working at a University, it's unsurprising that I know people who'd take pride in such ignorance, but I disagree – that's blatent pretension.

A few weeks ago, I bought two Sylvan albums, 'Posthumous Silence' and 'Presets' from an eBay seller – the sample tracks I'd heard at the Rogues' Gallery impressed me enough to try the CDs, though not necessarily enough for me to risk full retail (Amazon) prices. The listed Seller Location was in the UK, but something about the wording of the auctions hinted the goods could be despatched from elsewhere, so I wasn't worried when the package took a while to arrive.

However, I hadn't expected the CDs to come from Moscow, labeled "for sale in Russia, CIS and Baltic states only". There's nothing inherently wrong with such releases, of course, and I don't object to the distributor's preferences being ignored, but Russia is the primary source of counterfeit Porcupine Tree albums sold in Europe, so it's natural to be cautious. That minor doubt was slightly fueled by the 'Presets' case insert stating the wrong release year, but that too could be easily explained if this edition was released a little before the main EU & N.American edition(s), or perhaps the artwork was prepared in late 2006 for an early-2007 release and the date was overlooked. There's certainly nothing wrong with the quality of the booklet and CD.

The 'Posthumous Silence' case insert and booklet are similarly fine, but the CD is... absent. Again easily explained as an innocent mistake, and I've contacted the seller for a refund or replacement.

The problem is the cumulative effect: a UK seller providing Russian CDs without stating the source up-front (if I'd wanted the CDs quickly or if I'd been a collector specifically wanting the UK/EU edition, I'd have been annoyed) AND there being some doubt about the legitimacy of the releases AND a CD being missing – together, they inspired a little (inconclusive) research into whether there are any known scams involving Sylvan CDs.
Oh, and the packaging wasn't great: two CDs loose in a padded envelope with no additional padding to stop them banging together.

The point of all this is that had I looked at the seller's feedback ratings, I'd have known immediately that he/she/they sell Russian CDs and have a reputation for inadequate packaging, and I could have made an informed choice about whether to proceed. There's no hint there that their stock might be pirated or that others have received empty cases, so I've no reason to think they're fraudulent, but others have mentioned severe delays obtaining refunds for problematic orders....

Don't make the same mistake: check first. There's more to an auction listing than the seller's own text.

1: Ex-Lancashire Polytechnic, ex-Preston Polytechnic, ex-Harris College, ex-Harris Institute, ex-'The Institution For The Diffusion Of Useful Knowledge'. I love that last one.

2: Ex-S.Martin's College, an associated institution of Lancaster University (i.e. graduates of S.Martin's received Lancaster University degrees) until August 2007. If nothing else, the name change resolved the particularly tricky matter of the College's plural possessive: was it S.Martin's' ?

0.0092% doesn't sound like much, but it's sufficient for it to be an 'under-the-counter' product and for the chemist to record my name and address before selling it to me.
Kaolin – china clay – accounts for a massive 20% of the formulation, alongside other oddly antiquated ingredients (some a little startling): purified water, sodium bicarbonate, sucrose, chloroform, 96% ethanol (0.45 vol %), black treacle, liquorice extract, ether, peppermint oil.

However, the really startling discovery that when vomited back after ~90 minutes, the chalky white liquid had turned greenish-black. Just what I needed to see at a vulnerable moment.

She's also quite prepared to "grasp the nettle by the horns", apparently.

For example, a call to K. in November apparently lasted 62 minutes. If it had been 59'59', it'd have been free, so it'd be understandable to have to pay for the extra 2'. Nope; I've been charged for all 62.

It's a trivial amount of money, of course, but it leaves a nasty taste, as if the company is trying to trap customers.

Oddly enough, that's my primary memory of the shopkeepers, ticket sellers, etc. I encountered in New York in 2004 – perfectly polite and professionally friendly but radiating an impression that they were waiting to pounce on an innocent error, to exploit some term or condition and hence fleece a tourist.
I'm not saying they were actively trying to cheat anyone, but there was a basic lack of goodwill: they'd let a customer pay an avoidable tax or let a visitor accidently invalidate a ticket, when it'd have been so easy for them to intervene beforehand.

I remember watching an attendant at the Empire State Building who in turn watched an elderly couple gradually wander towards then through the wrong door, clearly by mistake. He then (politely) prevented them from re-entering. There's no denying that the visitors were technically at fault, but a word from the guard could have prevented them ruining their experience. Yet he waited, then struck.

I've never been so constantly aware of caveat emptor.

The slightly disturbing part is that Phil Booth of NO2ID, an organisation I promote each time I write about my opposition to ID cards, is prominently listed amongst the speakers. If he's to attend in a personal capacity, that's fine with me – his own political affiliations are his own business – but I really hope it's not as an official representative of NO2ID.

I can understand a wish to band supporters together for a better chance at gaining representatives into positions of influence, but there has to be a close connection, absent in this instance. There's no causal link between the issues, nor even an especial likelihood that a supporter of one will regard the other favourably.

Opposition to interference into individuals' private lives by national government isn't remotely the same issue as opposition to European central government, so the campaigns should not be actively affiliated. I'm sure many UKIP members welcome ID cards as a means of excluding foreigners, so dislike Booth's organisation, whereas people like me object to the cards³ whilst actively seeking the break-up of the UK into autonomous elements within the EU so disdain UKIP.
For much the same reason, it's important that the public don't naturally associate one with the other. "Fighting ID cards? That's a UKIP issue, isn't it? I don't like UKIP."

It reminds me of the 1991 General Election, in which, at least in my constituency, Plaid Cymru (my party of choice) affiliated itself with the Green Party, in an attempt to get a Plaid MP into Westminster who'd then have to vote according to Green policies. Hence, though I've always wanted Wales to separate from England, Plaid lost my vote – I'd never vote Green. Conversely, one of my English housemates, an environmentalist who considered Welsh nationalism irrelevant, doubted a Plaid MP really would promote Green issues, so the Greens lost his vote too.

1: And yes, I do mean England, whatever UKIP might claim.

2: The Green Party (hardly a major party) seems to have settled on Lancaster for annual conferences. I can't decide whether they're breaking with the 'seaside towns' tradition merely to be characteristically perverse, or whether they're the only party to acknowledge the need to seek higher ground (certainly not moral – I mean above rising sea levels).

3: The National Identity Register, really – never forget it's about the data, not the pieces of plastic.

On the last two occasions I've visited Sainsbury's in Lancaster, their meagre stock of free-range and organic meat has been totally sold out. Plenty of battery chicken, a veritable wall of the stuff, remains, but I've bought turkey instead.

I'll be fascinated to hear how the supermarkets react to this. I half-expect them to claim there's still a healthy market for unhealthy chicken, as people are still buying it, glossing over the fact some will be buying because the alternative isn't available.

Whilst paying for my free-range turkey, I noticed a, er, notice by the checkout, stating that "all our chicken, fresh and frozen, is sourced from the UK". Okay, I suppose that's good in terms of food miles, but it's a bit of a non-sequitur, rather dodging the fact that on the main issue, Sainsbury's only offers a genuine choice to the first few purchasers.

The topic I proposed was whether social networking sites have anything worthwhile to offer organisations, rather than individuals: whether an organisation can credibly use Facebook, YouTube, etc. to engage with (okay, and market to) customers (or in my case, potential students). I don't really know the answer – I was careful to use the word 'credibly' in the foregoing sentence, as I suspect credibility is the biggest risk.

This morning, I received documentation inviting me to attend a conference on 'harnessing social software applications and internal knowledge for effective working practice'. Stripping out the management bollocks ("internal knowledge"?), it's about the use of Web 2.0 apps/sites for collaboration within organisations, 'employee engagement', governance and streamlining working practices. The externally-facing aspect has been reduced to two 40-min sessions.

I'm just glad I declined to provide a session....

Fair enough, but imagine having to do that every time one wants a cup of tea. Not exactly convenient.

I don't mean shop staff or those otherwise involved in the tourist industry, either; just people in the street or countryside.

It's a large house: a living/dining room, four bedrooms (three and a 'study'* ) and three bathrooms (one with a bath, one with a shower and one just a toilet & wash basin), all spread over three floors.

Yet the most striking element is a tiny kitchen: standing in the middle, I can easily touch all four walls. There's plenty of storage (actually, there's a lot of storage space) and it's more than adequate for a microwave user, but the working surfaces are minimal. The intended residents aren't ambitious cooks, plainly.

Two of the bedrooms are bigger than my living room, but oddly the 'master' bedroom isn't one of them, if that's the bedroom with the en-suite toilet & shower. There's enough floor space to access a double bed and two wardrobes, but little more; it's fit for purpose, but hardly luxurious. Could it be that more ostentatious use of space is reserved for rooms a visitor might see?

The garden is surprisingly large for a newly built estate (it's not on Google Maps yet; that new) i.e. it has one at all – most other dormitory estates I've seen have provided negligible outdoor space, even alongside family houses. Still, the rectangular lawn, gravel path and decking have the expected 'easy-clean' look.

I hadn't expected a three-bedroom house to come with three parking spaces (and with my mother's car, my sister's and a boat trailer, they're all in use).

In short, it feels efficient yet soulless. It's probably great for people who merely use a house to rest and refuel for activities elsewhere, but it's a bit too overtly utilitarian for (my) real comfort.

It's odd to see my sister's home anyway, as it's arranged so similarly to my mother's. The house itself is totally different (my mother's is a bungalow, for one thing), but the pots contain cuttings from the same plants, the souvenirs are from the same destinations and my mother's taste has influenced K's. Knowing where my mother keeps teaspoons, I found K's instantly.
In case you were wondering: no, the same doesn't apply to my house.

*: Actually, I'm told the 'study' was advertised as a second living room.

I suppose they need substantial aerials to despatch and maintain contact with their fleet of roadside repair/recovery vehicles, and if they have such towers, it probably wouldn't be difficult to add 'crow's nest' features near the top, but I wonder whether they have a practical purpose. Why would the RAC need to see the stretch of road immediately outside each control centre? Or are these architectural features 'just' PR, giving the public (or paying members of the RAC, anyway) the impression 'we're watching over you'?

• Two pairs of walking socks (one grey, one black)
• Pair of chinos (black)
• Windproof/waterproof/breathable (and black) fleece
• Moisturiser
• £10 Amazon voucher

And why is the message "I am sorry for the delay." – how can announcement-synthesis software express its own regret? Surely that should be "We regret..." i.e. a corporate statement.
Presumably there's a reason for it – a focus group decision, perhaps?

That's the day after the majority of people will have gone away for the holiday period, not to mention students who went last week.

Great way to help burglars: now they just need to wait until Sunday or Monday to establish which houses are currently unoccupied, with no-one present to have taken in the directories.

The nameplate on her door states her name followed by an unnecessary full-stop. Which she's circled and annotated with a comment in printers' shorthand.

The Diner's extractor fan has been carelessly sited to output into the main entrance to County South's quad. The replusive effect is the absolute opposite of the smell of fresh bread emerging from a baker's: had I been tempted by the idea of a sausage bun, the smell would change my mind instantly. It must be even worse for vegetarians.

Seriously; why is it so repugnant – isn't the scent of frying bacon supposed to be extremely tempting?
The only reason I can think of is that the high water content of cheap bacon causes it to boil rather than properly fry. Oh, and that cheap sausages contain the parts other manufacturers don't mention....

However, I'd have to question the very premise. Why would there be one single solution, a straightforward panacea for all (anthropogenic) climate change? The whole concept is pointless reductionism, serving journalists' desire for an easily-marketable soundbite rather than achieving genuine progress.

This is directly analogous to the argument of activists opposing speed cameras, that speed isn't the sole cause of road accidents so resources should be spent elsewhere. True on both counts: speed alone doesn't cause accidents, but it magnifies their likelihood and consequences, and resources should be spread widely, on cameras and greater driver education, and police issues, and other factors, as I've discussed before.
There's no reason to expect a universal solution to all traffic accidents, nor to all climate change.

His assessment is as valid as mine (which is that he's entirely incorrect), of course, but that's the point: a fully credible information resource can't operate on amateurs' interpretations and data selection. The 'wisdom of crowds' is simply inadequate, even when that nominal counterbalancing of opinions isn't skewed by a vociferous minority.

Don't misunderstand; I have been known to use Wikipedia myself, but only as a starting point or shortcut in cases that don't really matter. There is a lot of valuable information, but also a lot of half-truth & downright rubbish, and a reader has no way of knowing which he/she is reading at a given moment.

And hence, however well-intentioned, it's no academic authority.

I can't help wondering whether this is the best approach. Turning it into an artistic statement could, perversely, increase the world's acceptance of the illegal barrier, even encourage its preservation ("you can't remove that section – the artwork's worth hundreds of thousands of pounds!").

Better to leave it blank, to ostracise it as a scar on the community until tearing it down at the earliest (negotiated) opportunity. The last thing anyone outside the Israeli government would want is for people to actually like it.

Now I think about it, didn't a local tell Banksy precisely that in 2005?

The Green Dot^TM (Der Grüne Punkt in its originating country of Germany) is a proprietory symbol which companies pay to use (its reproduction here for information purposes obviously isn't intended as infringement of trademark), the fee dependent on the quantity, nature and reprocessing cost of the packaging.
Hence it indicates that the producer has paid towards collection and reprocessing, a principle I applaud. The cumulative license fees also fund schemes to develop more-readily recyclable packaging and to minimise the use of packaging at all.

However, it does not indicate that the marked packaging is recycled, will be recycled or even can be recycled. This is important: unrecyclable items may bear the green dot.

In several countries, householders dispose of green dot waste separately for reprocessing or disposal at producers' expense, but the UK is not a participating nation at present, and the icon is not generally used on items produced here for the domestic market (in fact, my reading suggests there's a financial disincentive).

The obvious point of all this is that the green dot should not be used by UK households as guidance about how to dispose of an item. For example, this blog entry was prompted by my noticing that the green dot appears prominently on a shampoo bottle made of a blended plastic which Lancaster's doorstep collection scheme will not accept for recycling.

That's a glass jar with a plastic lid, sold within an anti-tamper plastic sleeve. Is an additional piece of metallised plastic really going to make a significant difference?

Sorry; one isn't supposed to think about marketing claims² .

1: I know; fresh is nicer, but the minimum quantity sold is more than I can realistically use before it goes off. Hmm. Maybe that needs some foil....

2: Of course, one could think too hard, and convince oneself that the pot contains a free marine mammal, pre-wrapped ready for cooking. But that'd be foolish. I mean, it's only a small pot.

I cannot accept a moral justification for 'liberal intervention' into the affairs of other nations. If countries such as the UK don't like the way countries such as Iraq are run, tough – it is absolutely no business of the UK Government, which has no right to impose its views of democracy and human rights on other sovereign nations.

Monstrous, imperialist propaganda – how could the Guardian have considered it acceptable to give Powell a voice?

Both are very well worth reading, especially by supporters of homeopathy, who should at the very least accept the suitability of careful self-reflection.

Unfortunately, as a commenter at Bad Science suggests, that open consideration mightn't be possible, not necessarily due to vindictiveness or over-defensiveness, but because of an inability of anti-scientists to comprehend the value of scientific methodology:

Sorry to pick on Sal as an example of a wider trend, but it's slightly disturbing to read that people still have 'cautious opinions' about anthropogenic global warming (AGW). It's established, peer-reviewed, unequivocable, scientific fact* , not a matter of opinion. What we do about it is certainly open to debate (couldn't agree more about the Greens, Sal – I know too many 'hippies-with-mortgages', and recoil from their pseudo-religion), but not the very fact of its existence.
I'd put this issue on a par with creationism - some people insist of expressing contrary (in multiple senses) fantasies, but in essence, the subject's overwhelmingly resolved.

No, that's not entirely true. Scientific issues are never neatly resolved forever, but the central point remains: that the state of established knowledge on AGW is such that it can't be reasonably refuted as a matter of opinion – that would take hard, verified, evidence, obtained by reproducible means. Personal belief is utterly irrelevant.

Not wishing to rant, but this is one of my problems with the mass-media, which insist on superficially covering both sides of a story, setting up an 'entertaining' adversarial debate even when there aren't two credible sides, then encouraging lay readers/viewers to decide for themselves.
Sometimes 'intellectual democratisation' (or whatever one wishes to call it) just isn't compatible with specialised study, yet the media encourage the idea that a newspaper reader's view is precisely as valid as that of a professor in the corresponding subject.

Elitist? No, just rational. Should brain surgery be performed by someone with years of training, both in the specialism and wider medical/surgical considerations, or a plumber who once watched a documentary? Isn't it elitist to value one person's opinion over that of the other?

This isn't 'Person A' versus 'Person B', opinion against equally-valid opinion. It's not even 'Professor A' vs. 'Layperson B' (and certainly not 'Haughty Prof. A', pillar of the Establishment, vs. 'Plucky Underdog B' – stop thinking like a journalist chasing the saleable narrative). It's evidence collected by 'Person A' versus cherry-picked conjecture by 'Person B'.

Nothing personal, Sal, but unless you're a professional climatologist, how can you hold a meaningful opinion on the causes of global warming?

*: 'Scientific fact' isn't absolute truth, of course, but nor is it just 'best guess', nor mere 'consensus opinion'.

In short, a number of US right-wing political blogs urged their readers to vote for an AGW-denialist website, itself a conduit for a politicised point-of-view rather than anything one could realistically describe as genuine science. Irrespective of one's personal opinions on human-induced climate change, the simple fact was that the subject of an organised votestuffing campaign simply didn't meet the basic criterion: it's not a science blog – it could even be interpreted as anti-science.

Those who care about science, plus those wishing to discredit the denialist agenda responded in, in my opinion, the wrong way: by organising a rival votestuffing campaign. One site on the 'Best Science Blog' shortlist was selected, and people urged to vote for it, irrespective of whether they'd visited the site or had the vaguest interest in its content (astronomy, as it happens).

Skewing the results of a poll in order to protect real science may be tempting, but "they started it" is no excuse, and the effect is no less shabby.
Unfortunately, the organisers of the Awards seemed to love the publicity, actively promoting it as a 'right-wing vs. left-wing' battle and not seeming to care about organised contrived voting, so took no action against it. In my view, that invalidates the whole Awards exercise and devalues the Awards themselves. So, congratulations to Neil Gaiman and Randall Munroe for winning the 'Best Literature Blog' and 'Best Comic Strip' popularity contests, but they're kind of meaningless now.

Voting closed last night, so it's safe to mention, but the 'Best Science Blog' category has yet to be declared, pending investigation of voting irregularities (no; really?). The provisional results merely demonstrate that the rival factions are able to contrive comparible support: the pro-science lobby's chosen candidate received 20,683 votes to the anti-scientists' 20,638. That's of 54,995 votes, in a contest where other categories tended to receive less than 20,000 votes in total.

Whichever side ultimately 'wins', the other will complain about how that 'victory' was achieved, rendering the whole Award meaningless. No-one comes out of this well.
If there's any practical benefit, perhaps it's that the organisers might consider tightening their eligibility criteria – this whole situation could have been avoided if the pseudo-science blog had been disqualified from this category (it may have merits in a politics or philosophy category) in the first place.

Disclosure: two of those votes for Neil G. and xkcd (one each!) were mine, but I voted because I genuinely read and enjoy their work, not to prove a point. I did not vote in the 'Best Science Blog' category.

[Update 04/02/08: Belatedly, I checked back to see that the category was declared a draw.]

*: a process I fully support, incidentally.

I wonder why. As Fi observed, the return on their advertising expenditure isn't obvious: where's the commercial benefit to British Waterways from more dog walkers and cyclists? Maybe they receive mooring fees from boat users, but the advert didn't depict narrowboats, just towpath activities. Maybe it's a political thing, to increase general usage, to prove canals are popular, to gain government funding.

Who knows? It seemed odd to me, anyway.

I presume it's intended to develop non-confrontational leadership skills, but that's not quite what it says, is it?

It seems obvious that one would wish to mix the settled-out solid and liquid components immediately before serving, but I always have a nagging doubt that I'm missing something....

Abbeystead is a tiny hamlet in very rural Wyresdale, with scattered farms centred on a school, manor farm, phone box, postbox and noticeboard. Glancing at the latter, I saw a handwritten request that anyone who finds the described necklace hang it on the noticeboard for the owner to collect.

I doubt there are many places where one could do that.

I could understand advertising financial probity or customer service, but promoting itself on the basis of its clients' activities? It's not as if NatWest is a sustainable-energy generator or owns wind turbines itself (in more than a loan-security sense), and there's no suggestion that the bank's involvement is philanthropic.

This morning, an abjectly contrite retraction was in my inbox.

Promises. It's an auction of promises, a charity event. There's no known threat to the school (which is owned by the local authority anyway).

Oops....

I don't really have a fixed opinion on whether that's something individuals should pay (I support the principle of student fees, so shouldn't object to this one either), or whether the state education system ought to cover it (for UK applicants, anyway), as it did in the Nineties. It was just a surprise.

That's an application fee, of course, not an admission fee – there's no guarantee that applications will succeed.

I wouldn't expend a millisecond of thought on an issue as trivial as fluffy socks; it simply has no place in my consciousness.
Nor had it occurred to me that I might know someone for whom the subject held the remotest interest – I thought that was just for weak-minded proles, victims of marketing.

"But it's nice."

Don't be so pathetic.

I don't know whether I've adequate expressed it before, but I recoil from empty luxury like that. Such matters hold no value for me.
I'm not some ascetic, actively seeking minimalist discomfort, but I suppose I'm marginally closer to that end of the spectrum than someone who wallows in opulence for its own sake. Paradoxically, I'm even further from people who bother with tiny indulgences, such as fabric softener, to brighten their sad little existences.

A small corner beside the entrance to my office building used to be block-paved, featuring a smooth boulder¹ on a small plinth and a couple of benches. Following refurbishment, the area has been landscaped as a bed of shrubs/palms punctuated by pebble mosaics, with a central plinth still to be occupied².

The point is that the soil has been covered with bark chippings, which have a strong smell, which becomes less pleasant with distance. From a few metres away, the scent is of damp wood; no problem. However, the building's foyer reeks of overripe bananas, and there's a disturbing odour of vomit in the stairwell and upper-floor landings.

It's not the first time I've noticed this 'scent spectrum' effect. A couple of weeks ago, the smell of tomato soup experienced on the second-floor landing seamless changed to currant buns by the time I reached the first floor (I went back and forwards a couple of times, and couldn't identify a single point of transition), fading to the odour of burnt toast by the ground floor. I have no idea about the source of the smell, presumably on the third floor.

1: Actually a huge manganese nodule unearthed during the excavation of the Alex Square underpass. They're a common component of the local shale/sandstone bedrock, though the biggest I've found myself is about 10cm across.

2: I suspect the boulder will be reinstalled, but I vote for a larger-than-life statue of the VC in a Lenin-like declamatory pose, one hand gripping his waistcoat lapel, the other pointing to a brighter future (not that I have reason to think the VC would do that; it's just a compelling image).

This is for everyday cooking rather than for a special occasion; perhaps precise care over quantities would produce better results, but this is more than adequate for normal purposes.

• Firstly, use decent-quality rice. It doesn't need to be anything special, but avoid the very cheapest stuff or anything labelled 'easy/quick cook'. Personally, I don't bother with tasteless American long-grain rice either, and only use basmati. It's part of your meal, not mere packing material; it's supposed to have a flavour.
• Plan your cooking to allow time for the rice to rest before serving. This is very important. Ideally, have the rice ready and staying warm in a covered pan well before the other components of the course. Never seek to drain the rice and serve it immediately.
• Boil water in a pan. Don't add the rice to tepid water then bring it to the boil, boil first.
  The quantity of water is debatable, and I've yet to get that quite right. Something like double the amount of rice (by volume!) seems to work. Ultimately, I doubt it matters if use slightly too much, as any excess will be drained off well before the rice is ready to eat.
  A drop of oil is supposed to prevent the grains sticking together. I haven't experienced that problem, so omit the fat.
  My view is that if an individual wants salt, he/she can add it to the served meal. I don't put any in the water.
  For a change, I occasionally add a small amount of turmeric/saffron to rice intended to accompany an Indian meal, or a little five-spice for a Chinese meal. Use just enough for a subtle effect, as the intention isn't to mask the rice's own flavour or affect that of the main dish.
• Add an appropriate quantity of rice. The dry rice will tend to clump together as it hits the water, so stir it once (stirring liberates starch into the water), then put a tight-fitting lid fully onto the pan – don't leave an air gap.
  If supermarket-bought, do not rinse the rice first. That's only necessary if it's dirty or poorly processed, containing husks and other foreign bodies. It is not necessary to wash the starch out of fairly fresh rice.
  When the water returns to the boil and tries to bubble around the lid, drop the heat as far as it will go and let it simmer. My mother struggles with this stage, as her electric hob doesn't cool quickly enough. I'm not sure what to suggest; get a gas hob like mine?
• Cook the rice for a little less time than indicated on the packet; if the packaging says twelve minutes, try ten. Don't keep removing the lid during cooking, but when you think it's ready, test it by removing a little rice with a fork or spatula.
  Visually, grains ready for the next stage should be slightly larger than when dry but roughly the same shape; if they're much larger and have splayed ends, they're overcooked.
  In the mouth, the rice should be al dente: firm (slightly firmer than you'd want to eat – remember, it's not supposed to be ready to serve yet) but not crunchy. Soft is bad.
• Drain the rice. I hold the pan over a sink and pour until the continuous flow of excess liquid separates into drips; the rice doesn't need to be absolutely dry. Don't bother draining it in a sieve or similar, as it'd need to go straight back in the pan for the next stage. If there wasn't any excess water, well done!
• Put the lid back on the pan, and let it rest for five minutes, longer if possible. This is the key part, as the rice is still cooking, absorbing all the remaining liquid. However, rice which was already fully-cooked in the water will already be saturated, so this stage won't work. Drain it sooner next time!
  Don't apply more heat, so turn off the gas or use a different ring of an electric hob (i.e. not the one still at over 100°r;C).
• When you're ready to serve the meal (or to start cooking fried rice), remove the lid and lightly fluff the rice. It really shouldn't stick together; any starch should have gone back into the grains, which should be absolutely dry.
• Enjoy.
  [****, that sounds cheesy, but you know what I mean.
  Whatever you do, don't add cheese to your rice.]

1: Which was very pleasant². Thanks for asking.
2: Vienna, I mean, not the hotel, which was adequate but spartan.

I support increases in the use of wind turbines as a supplement to nuclear power stations, but it has to be acknowledged that this lack of a coherent strategy is a gift to the 'anti-' lobby.

The suggestion is that workers would welcome a return to elements of a 'traditional' working environment: a tea trolley, subsidised canteen and an annual works outing.

I can think of little worse.

I definitely wouldn't be 'motivated' by a break to buy tea and cakes from a trolley wheeled door-to-door. Why would I wish to pay to drink stewed tea at intervals determined by my employer – I'll drink my own, fresh, when and as frequently as I choose, thanks. My motivation comes from caffeine, consumed by the shedload whilst I work rather than whilst pretending to listen to a person of negligible significance witter about his or her spawn.
Okay, that last bit's hyperbole and I don't really work with such people, but the point stands: few of my colleagues particularly interest me on a personal level.

Similarly, my morale and productivity wouldn't be remotely boosted by eating in a canteen, nor in a pub for a 'team lunch' (I don't drink, never mind operate within a team) nor, least of all by being obliged to attend an annual office outing. WTF?

Office Angels' managing director is quoted as saying "employees should be encouraged to interact with each other". No, thanks. I work with these people, and on the whole the atmosphere is amicable, but that's the full extent of the relationship, which doesn't extend to prolonged small-talk or socialising.

I have a life, and I have a job. They don't mix.

Now the organisers have my postal address, I've started to receive junk mail from them. I'll stop it after the event, of course, but in the mean time it's an insight into a different world.

For example, I've been offered their annual report on developments in intranet management. They've been kind enough to offer me a £100 discount on the cover price, so I can obtain a copy for a mere £195 plus packaging.

£295 for a book which, by definition, will be obsolete within months, if not by the time it's printed. I'm in the wrong business.

*: Though I've blagged overnight accommodation and an extra day to be a tourist at my employer's expense.

Not the same thing at all. There's a real difference between being 'happy' and not being 'unhappy' – the double negative conveys an important shade of meaning, and renders the simpler headline misleading.

*: Translation: that two major high-street banks are actively pleased with the new Home Information Packs scheme, in which the duty to provide documentary evidence about the condition and status of a property now falls on the vendor, not the buyer.

A slight problem is the culture of security in the UK. Following decades of Irish Republican/Loyalist troubles, including on the mainland, and now the alleged threat from al Qaeda, we don't actually have as many litter bins in crowded areas as we might. Litter bins were specifically removed from railway stations in the 1990s; not all were returned. Maybe a push for high-street recycling facilities would bring them back, but I suspect security concerns would veto the new bins instead.

For once, I wouldn't necessarily characterise this as security theatre – unlike the war on moisture, litter bins are a credible means of planting bombs which has been used several times in the UK.

I could understand either paying a fee up-front or maybe even after one has received the service i.e. paying in advance or in arrears, but if paying by direct debit, billing is neither, or possibly both.

The bill I received today itemises the monthly payments I've already paid on the current licence, then states that "next year's licence will then be paid over twelve months (six payments before the licence begins and six after)".

For the record, an annual licence to watch colour television currently costs £135.50.

*: Licencing does make some sense if one considers it differently: as a compulsory donation towards the operation of the BBC, and hence access to ad-free TV, radio and web services. Yes, one still has to pay if one only watches independent (ad-supported) TV channels