As I may have mentioned (or not; I've always been reluctant to reveal particularly personal details here), it's not an overstatement to say my life changed at the end of 2009, and I'm not the person I was before: new, wonderful girlfriend; new, more intense job; new (first!) car and associated extension of mobility; and new focus of interests. For example, I haven't watched any broadcast TV for 18 months, but I have learned to cook 'properly' (but seem to have lost the time & energy to do so, in recent months).

That doesn't preclude maintenance of the blog at some level, of course, and the will's still there, but another change rather forced my hand in March. My ISP made various updates which rendered my blogging software unusable: I can't publish anything any more via Movable Type. I'm publishing this (or rather, writing it in the hope that I know how to publish it) by manually editing MT's output files: the blog entry itself, plus the archives, index page and RSS. I don't think I'll be making a habit of it.

I could set myself up with entirely new publishing software, but it's just so much hassle – my day job is Web Editor, so I'm disinclined to invest much of my own time in more of the same.

We'll see. I'm certainly not on Facebook, and haven't really taken to Twitter, but work permitting, I upload something to Flickr pretty much daily during the week.

I don't think I've used Yellow Pages since the mid- 1990s, and I doubt I've ever used BT's Phone Book. I don't even know (or care) what's inside a Thomson Local directory. Every year, each one arrives on my doorstep, prompting me to take the previous year's issue out of its plastic wrapper for the first time and drop it into the recycling bin unopened. Totally pointless.

According to Stop Junk Mail, opting out is as simple as sending an email to each provider (that site offers a utility to streamline the process), or a phone call if one prefers.

Done!

Of course, more could be done to combat the advertising industry: compulsory implementation of an opt-in system (no directories delivered unless one specifically requests them – as already done in Belgium) would be an excellent start, as would be charging producers for the disposal of countless tonnes of redundant phone books. Why should local authorities – the public – have to bear the cost, estimated as £7.5 million pa, according to the LGA last year?

Despite unsurprising industry opposition, Seattle seems to be enacting sensible legislation:

In London this past weekend, I glanced through the 'what's on' leaflets shelved in the Tate Britain and noticed a flyer for an open day at a comparible (but not rival) HE institution. Good idea – why don't we do that?

Dunno, but it seems the question isn't of interest....

Pity. I work in web marketing and my colleague works in face-to-face marketing (recruitment), but we're both trying to sell the same product. A little shared innovation, presented discreetly (it's not as if I shamed anyone in front of senior management) should be a good thing, right?

*: Fishing for return traffic? Hopefully not for reciprocal links, as that's certainly not going to happen....

That's Web Editor. Wouldn't an ability to find an internet connection be something of a core skill?

My TV still gets used for DVDs, of course, but I simply haven't been inclined to use its broadcast receiver. My life has changed fairly radically since November (overwhelmingly for the better, though it's been tough), and I have even less time or intellectual vacancy to invest into passively consuming whatever crappy gameshows or partial, excessively-editorialised 'news' coverage happens to be available at a given moment.
I'd already been receiving a broader, multisource overview of the latest news, supplemented by 'raw' data, via the web; now that's virtually 100%. Less expected has been my total switch to watching TV on-demand via BBC iPlayer and its ITV equivalent: to date, every single programme I've particularly want to see has been readily available at a time of my choosing via my browser.

My apparent abandonment of CDs has been similarly unexpected, but equally explicable.
It's certainly not that I'm obtaining (entirely legally!) less music: I bought two albums yesterday, in fact. The difference is that I now prefer to download in non-DRM'd, low-compression or VBR .mp3 format (even though the CD of 'Powerslave' was cheaper than the download). The new album from Anathema is due out at the end of the month, and I went to the effort of hunting for a non-'special' edition without 5.1-mix DVD-A, digibook, T-shirt or LP (simple: try Amazon rather than Burning Shed) before acknowledging that I'd rather wait a little longer for a download edition. There's no rush.

It's difficult to overstate the balloon-puncturing effect of my disillusionment with 'special' editions: obscure formats in excessive packaging, glorifying 'the album as artifact' rather than the mere carrying medium of the only part important me, the music itself (artwork can be a bonus, but not at a premium). SW is by far the worst offender, but not the only one; it's a disturbing trend, which I'm not prepared to condone. I don't need 'things'.
There's a pragmatic reason for the shift, too: I don't even recall the last time I listened to music on CD. Everything I've bought in recent years has been immediately ripped to .mp3 anyway; my sole CD player is in my PC, so any alleged sound quality advantage of uncompressed .cda over >192kbps .mp3 is probably negated by the chip fan!

It's worsened as I've aged. I first noticed it in 1992 whilst working with photogrammetric lenses, when I happened to hold one to my eye and look out at an adjacent building, noticing for the very first time that it was brick-built. It's not that I couldn't see the bricks, merely that the surface pattern hadn't registered consciously. Once it had, it remained obvious even without the lens, confirming that it had been a question of perception rather than 'raw' eyesight.
Now I wear glasses I experience that less often, but it still happens: I can see things perfectly well without assistance, but don't notice them.

I've tried to explain that to people – particularly those who have tried my glasses and discovered they're nearly plain glass – but haven't been confident that they understand. Now I can offer an illustration.

Scroll halfway down this page, which reviews various disc editions of 'Zulu', to a sequence of screenshots comparing picture qualities: NTSC vs PAL, digital transfer vs. digital transfer, and DVD vs. Blu-ray. Find the first image depicting a red-coated soldier holding a Zulu shield, standing in a valley with a flat-topped mountain in the background. Then scroll a little further: my unaided vision is probably comparible to the second (PAL) screenshot: fairly clear but not quite there. Then look at the final, Blu-ray, image in that set.
If you're like me, you'll suddenly notice that there are numerous dead Zulus in the background. Scroll back up to the earlier images, and realise the bodies were visible there too. For me, that's an odd sensation: I must have seen them without proper awareness; I'd subconsciously presumed they were simply rocks on the floodplain and ignored them. Yet having noticed them, I continue to notice them, even at the lower resolutions.

And that, boys and girls, is why I wear glasses which have no effect for other people.

The very concept of a self-righteous 'conservation activist' makes my fists itch, so as someone normally resistant to campaigners' whining, my key advice would be to stick to the measurable evidence: point out the verifiable scientific impacts of a road project, or the illegality of a mine. Never, ever, evangelise environmentalism, nor appeal to morality or the fluffiness of the poor little bunnies who'll be displaced. That may well be your personal motivation for getting involved, and that's fine. However, it's a particularly poor basis for campaigning to those of us who, whilst open to rational arguments and practicing fairly sustainable lifestyles, don't give a **** about the Green pseudo-religion.

[And no, that's not directed at Ms. Górska; just making a general point.]

When instructed to remove it, he did comply, but with an appallingly condescending comment suggesting that the artist – who happens to be a rather well-known professional – should welcome the exposure, and if he didn't, he should have implemented technological barriers to copying, such as visible watermarking; that "[if] you leave it in the clear, you're giving permission."

Then read the comments accompanying a follow-up 'How-To' piece in which the author patronisingly attempts to educate readers far more knowledgeable than himself on how to protect images, only to receive a second roasting for misrepresenting the genuine issue. A highlight is when the site's own editor-in-chief joins in the criticism....

It's not for the content creator to protect a work, it's for a potential user to obtain permission: just because it's easy to copy online content, or that an artist hasn't specifically imposed barriers, doesn't mean it's acceptable to simply take it.
Extrapolating the 'journalist's argument, every car should be thoroughly locked and immobilised, or it'd be entirely reasonable for someone to just take it. And let's not even consider the 'she was wearing a short skirt' excuse.... (okay; excessive extrapolation.)
If one finds a wonderful image online and wishes to reuse it in one's own work, one is obliged to contact the artist and obtain permission. If one can't identify or contact the artist, one CANNOT use the image. Simple as that. If one can't contact the artist because he/she has failed to make contact details available, tough: one still can't use it.

When I say 'use', I'm talking about republication for profit, of course – if one wishes to take a personal copy of an image for private appreciation, that's entirely different. Personally, I'd include not-for-profit publication, such as by charities, too, as it's not merely about money: I wouldn't want to assist causes with which I disagree. I reserve the right to withhold my creative content from religious groups or animal rights activists, for example.

That's not to say I object to my content being reused at all; quite the opposite. Just ask first, and don't presume agreement. Only today, I agreed to make photos available to promote a conference in Lancaster. In fact, the only occasion I recall on which I declined is when I was asked to make images available, uncredited and for free, to a travel agent who'd receive commission from the content my photos would illustrate.

Pregnancy tests.

That made me blink a little, but the shop assistant, who happens to be an articulate PhD student, was rather animated about it all, in sociological contexts I couldn't quite follow.

That's from a consultant's pitch to which I was exposed this morning, about revolutionising the production of printed documents, using a CMS and file repository to gather and revise content for brochures and prospectuses.

After which I returned to my desk and an invitation to a conference on the death of the printed prospectus, "threatened by an increasingly digitised marketing mix and a profound generational shift in media behavior and consumption".

So which is it?

Oh, no; he offers property solutions.

Quite apart from my personal animosity to all (and I do mean all) advertising, the institution simply isn't allowed to publish anything which could be considered a commercial endorsement, so if a feed is transparently and solely attempting to sell something, it's blocked.

The commonest offenders tend to be web marketing firms presumingly attempting to attract the attention of, well, me, and they succeed: I retain every 'new follower' e-mail Twitter sends, and I wouldn't knowingly give business to a company which has previously sent me sp*m (er, formal tendering procedures aside, obviously!).
Recruitment agencies comprise another category of frequent abusers, and again, if they're overtly just lists of job adverts, they're blocked.
Student-related sites are sometimes borderline; some seem genuinely useful, and some are relatively clumsy attempts to advertise non-commercial services; they present as adverts, but don't seem to have that intent. They're judged on their merits, and periodically rechecked.
And then there are the random sp*mmers: why would a student or academic in Lancaster, UK be remotely interested in cheap fence posts available in Alabama, USA?

A bit of free advice to advertisers wanting to pass the censor: offer a genuine Twitter feed, with genuine, personal content about a range of topics. Mentioning your services occasionally, and offering a link in your profile summary, is fine. Only feeds that advertise blatently (those in which every single update is an ad, with no personal content, and/or clearly have no relevance to Higher Education) get blocked. A key question I ask myself is "is this person interested in reading the University's updates, or does he/she just want to get a user icon and accompanying text displayed in our 'Followers' list?". In fact, the really good marketing agencies would understand that anyway, so that approach would actually be a better advert than something too overt.

All that is a digression from the point I meant to address: what about 'adverts' from campaigning organisations? Again, my personal views are irrelevant, but should my employer be 'endorsing' religious groups, political parties or, say, drug-legalisation campaigns? Should my employer be blocking links to such groups?
My own view is that if it's scrupulously even-handed, we should be declining such followers, but I'm finding it difficult to get a definitive view (policy decision) from management, and wouldn't be entirely comfortable about defending a block myself if challenged.
Maybe the foregoing paragraphs weren't a digression after all, and I should simply treat all varieties of adverts as adverts.

How would the turbines reduce consumption, as opposed to meeting demand? Is it expected that overawed students will congregate to watch the huge shiny, spinny things for hours on end, thereby reducing usage of electricity?

And 72,000 tonnes of what? 'Energy'? Incinerated kittens?

Tsk. Journalism....

However, a ticket from Plymouth to Birmingham, then another from there to Lancaster, collectively costs £78.50, saving £45.50, or 37%.

And that's travelling on the same trains as the combined ticket.

Though I'm one of the recipients, I won't be completing the practice census; though I'll certainly participate in the compulsory one in 2011, as I consider national censuses very important, I couldn't imagine voluntarily giving the UK Government any personal information.
I suppose the ONS needs to know about potential response rates to the real thing, so in my own way, I am helping.

Besides that fundamental objection, a couple of specific questions are barriers to my involvement:

If I'm unable to watch a TV programme at the original broadcast time, as my TV licence allows, iPlayer enables me to watch it later. However, it doesn't give me a copy of the programme: I can only watch via the iPlayer interface and only for a limited period after the initial broadcast (I think it's a week or the duration of a series plus a week). There are illicit workarounds, of course, but rather more complex than simply linking a DVD recorder to a TV.
In contrast, if I buy a DVD, it's mine: I can watch it as many times as I like, for as long as the DVD format is supported by technology.

Firstly, spring water tends to be pumped from deep underground – if there's soil water in it, something's gone wrong.
Secondly, water percolates into bedrock from a huge catchment area – the claim that an abstraction point happens to be on an organic plot is utterly irrelevant unless the entire district is certified as 'organic' too.
Thirdly, don't be so ****ing precious. It's water. Unless it's specifically contaminated and verifiably unfit for consumption, it doesn't matter.

After all, a "teen seeking education" could be genuine business, so if the user icon isn't obviously p*rn, I have to click the link.

I SAID: why do so many mumblers become university porters? Is there a diction test in the job interview? Yet again I've struggled through a conversation on context and intonation alone, having failed to interpret even a syllable of what was actually said.

Actually, the generalisation's untrue: though I've had the same experience at several institutions across the UK, seemingly more often than random chance, the other common variety of porter seems to be ex-army or -police, and hence particularly clearly-spoken.

Maybe there's a finite amount of enunciation in the profession, and some leach it out of others.

I feel strongly that the state should exist to serve individuals, never the reverse; that government should be a service provider facilitating the lives of individuals, and that government should never force individuals to jump through (metaphorical...) hoops merely for administrative convenience. The job of the 'security' agencies is a difficult one, and should be.

However, none of this means I reject basic social responsibility: I also favour self-censorship ahead of freedom of speech, and consider that my right to behave as I wish, anonymously, extends only as far as doesn't affect others.

In today's Observer, David Mitchell, in his amusing but insufferably middle-class English way, writes about wheelie bin protesters. I agree.

A digression in the article's comments actually reinforces the point. Why do Daily Mail readers, stereotypical right-wing libertarians who constantly whine about 'the nanny state' and 'political correctness' (supposedly excessive attempts to avoid offending minorities), spend their entire lives claiming to be offended?

In fact, an early paragraph startled me:

*: To restate: apart from particularly fine examples of design, I'm generally interested in books, CDs and DVDs as carrying/storage media for their content – words, music and films – not as physical artefacts to own for the sake of ownership. I do own a few ornaments, but for their tactile/visual appeal or for the memories they evoke rather than as mere status symbols. For example, I have a rubber duck beside my TV.

The difference, as demonstrated by my boss's ~8-year-old daughter's attempt, is that the handwritten, hand-illustrated efforts I (vaguely) recall have been replaced by Powerpoint presentations.

I suppose it's to the children's credit that they can do something I can't, but what about the opportunity for unstructured creativity?

I think I've slightly died, inside.

Right. I'll need an airline ticket, a respirator and pair of tweasers.

However, the subsequent discovery that I'm a web designer with a mortgage really confuses them; there's a certain schadenfreude in seeing an account adviser change mental gears.

*: Not one I carry daily, anyway.

*: Ha! Or so I'd like to think....

The reason cited is that GCSEs are now considered insufficiently challenging and inadequate preparation for further stages of education. However, the final paragraph of the Guardian article mentions that:

That's 'history' not only as the standalone subject, but in the framework of the whole curriculum; an insidious indoctrination of 'Britishness' at the expense of objectivity. For example, in science subjects, I recall British research receiving greater prominence than equally important discoveries by foreign scientists.

However, I've been thinking. Would a really evil beard advertise the fact?

Bwahaha....

That may impress the proles (the sort of drones who'd consider the addition of dark chocolate-flavoured vegetable fat to cherry yoghurt as the height of luxury), but I prefer to consider my life to not have a 'lid'.

[The title is the aspect which seems to please her most.]

'An Bhreatain Bheag' is the Gaelic name for Wales. Great for any visiting Scottish people, but 'Cymru' would be slightly more appropriate.

I still cycle daily, not least because it's my only practical means of commuting, but I'm struggling to lean properly, I overreact to any slight irregularity in steering (those two points feed back into each other, of course) and I'm extremely nervous when descending frosty hills; on two occasions I've been close to panic and walking instead.

There's been a further, unexpected effect: I've been experiencing vertigo for the first time in my life – I suppose it's fundamentally related to balance, too. Discovering that whilst on the icy parapet of a dam, walking alone (okay, okay; being there at all was rather foolish), was... interesting. For a moment I couldn't move, even to shuffle around on the spot and retreat. It's been less severe since then, but even descending a steep flight of stairs has caused a little unsteadiness.

As the weather's improving and roads are reliably ice-free, I've become a little more confident on my bike. I certainly hope that also extends to my tolerance of heights soon.

For example, when BoingBoing posted about bondage vac-beds (as if they're a brand new invention... weird), one of the commoner initial reader responses was a 'Star Wars' reference, followed by numerous logical (but wrong) comments about mechanical functionality and usability. Valid issues, I suppose, but not foremost in the minds of typical users.

I mean; 'Dinosaurs Love Underpants' is a far superior work.

Don't worry; I didn't. But it did.

If, as has been proposed, that situation is reversed and people are presumed to be willing donors unless specifically opted-out, I would opt out, on principle. No hesitation, no discussion. Presumed opt-in is unacceptable.

I'm registered with the MPS to avoid personally-addressed junk mail and with the Royal Mail to avoid the unaddressed junk they deliver door-to-door, but I'm not sure what can be done about hand-delivered takeaway menus, estate agent solicitations, ****ing-Green-Party 'news'letters.

Any suggestions? About how to prevent unsolicited hand-deliveries, I mean – I know I could request that the Greens shove their propaganda elsewhere, but if I do, are they obliged to comply?

We are, but will cease to be, the Academic Division of the Central Administration; that's to be streamlined to 'Central Services'... as seen in Terry Gilliam's dystopian 'Brazil' which, co-incidentally, is also the source of this website's name.

Hi there. I want to talk to you about ducts.

'Microwave', eh? That's what it's called nowadays, is it?

Only... it starts at 08:15. In London (~300km from here). And ends at 10:30.
Something tells me that'd be difficult to sell to my employer....

So is it really a good idea for the campus supermarket to offer cut-price chip pans?

But campus only has six tennis courts, so they'd be covered by over 83 layers of iPods, or to a depth of 63.5 cm, or 70% of the height of the net. Something of a handicap to players.
Besides, I thought the traditional unit for physics experiments was the squash court.

There's science popularisation, and there's patronising bollocks. This seems dangerously close to the edge.

I couldn't make the connection immediately; I briefly suspected he was a (evidently now retired) teacher from the school I left eighteen years ago, but by the time I got 'home' I'd recalled he was the head of the council division I worked for in university summer vacations 1990-93; my bosses' boss, with whom I only ever exchanged a few words. The 'waking edge' of first consciousness this morning brought back his name, too, though I'd have struggled to remember it months later, never mind after fifteen years. Did I mention I have a good memory for faces?

There is a point to this posting, beyond self-congratulation: don't work too hard, and don't live for your career.
I remember this person as a rather pompous manager, overconfident in his self-importance. Though generally considered ineffectual by his staff, he'd risen to become the director of a county council division (though it wasn't of anything as meaningful as Education or even Highways but merely Supplies), with the associated status.

Yet as soon as he retired, that would all have vanished: all that was left was a small man on a railway platform, with jowls and a pink shirt. Who cares now that he was once Director of Paperclips? Was it worth all the effort?

Now busy, busy parents can't even find the time to mollycoddle their little darlings themselves.

I hope it's expensive.

It's also interesting that each link is self-contained: apart from brief meetings in pubs, 'adjacent connections' don't know one another at all. Which is probably a good thing, if conversation accidentally turned to music topics or past relationships....

I suppose I'll have to knowingly peddle the pseudo-science – at least this sort of thing is unlikely to harm her, or her computer.

Hence, you can imagine my momentary confusion at the following e-mail about migration back to our renovated office space:

Besides, why are there journalists in my inbox? Shoo! Shoo!

Zinnia proposes one very credible explanation:

Here are a few of my own: which classes of charities I support, the non-existence of true selflessness, and one of my pet dislikes (no pun intended): slacktivism.

When ringing an institution's web developer to sell content management 'solutions' ('just add water'?), claiming

1. to have been referred by the institution's 'marketing team' and
2. to have spoken to [name] yesterday

1. that the institution has a 'marketing team' and
2. that your call hasn't been put through to [name], who knows perfectly well who he spoke to yesterday. And it wasn't you.

My colleague has had a brilliant idea: combine the concepts into two identical designs, one with a fish skeleton, one without (so technically they wouldn't be identical... you know what I mean, pedants). The wearer could swap shirts at about 13:00 and count double-takes.

If anyone actually implements it, the idea's © J.Norris.

Whatever. I'll still be wearing mine as normal, whether for conferences, concerts or concreting.

In principle, a Member of Parliament is elected to represent a constituency: to consider the wishes of people in his/her designated geographical area, including minorities, then act according to those wishes, not solely his/her own opinions. Personal views may inform decisions, of course, but I don't feel it's legitimate for an MP to put moral convictions ahead of reasoned argument and constituents' opinions. A MP sits in Parliament as a representative, not as a private individual.

An even more obvious example was the ex-Prime Minister, who took the UK into an illegal war because he, personally, felt it was "the right thing to do". That may have been a justification for him, alone, to have bought a rifle and an airline ticket to Baghdad, but when speaking for an entire nation, his personal opinion was, well, not irrelevant, but certainly low in the order of priority.

And I'm one of them. Few things inspire my contempt more than such insipid cosiness. It carries connotations of unambitiousness: 'Be satisfied with your lot. Accept shallow happiness now rather than long-term achievement in the future. Just get by, don't excel. Conform.'

There are words I dislike and would never use, but I do happen to use 'nice' quite frequently, in three senses, one of which mightn't be clear:

• Sarcasm.
• Faint praise.
• As Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett taught me in 1990, 'nice' also means 'precise' or 'discerning'.

I'm vaguely aware of a euthanasia 'community', of people with the skills to assist suicide and, more importantly, the professionalism to know when not to exercise those skills.

Jon Ronson, in an article for the Guardian and TV documentary for the BBC (to be broadcast this evening, 19 May), investigates two darker varieties of suicide consultants.
One seems a little too eager to send people on to 'a better existence', and assists those with potentially treatable mental health problems rather than terminal illnesses: people who are depressed enough to seek death, but who might respond to counselling.
Another does it for the money, seeing it as a way to pay the water bills.

At ~4,000 words it's a fairly long article, but I'd urge you to read it. I suspect some might use it as ammunition against the whole concept of assisted suicide, but that's far too simplistic; if anything it highlights consequences of voluntary euthanasia remaining taboo, underground and unregulated.

[Via Real E Fun – as always, sensitive yet challenging.]

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 indicator 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 on 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 and yes, it's permissable to access BBC Radio and the website for free if one doesn't have a TV.

Spread the word!

[An unconfirmed source reports the Royal Mail as saying registration now lasts two years, but it's unclear whether that applies to registrations submitted in August 2006 or only those submitted more recently. I'm not inclined to risk it.
Besides, if the Royal Mail are swamped by thousands of redundant renewal letters, that's their problem.]

Seriously; would ABBA have been permitted to market themselves that way¹ on anything as mainstream as 'Top Of The Pops' thirty years ago? Tiffany, in 1988? Maybe it was considered less threatening by 1997 and, say, the Spice Girls.

Yet in 2007, there's no particular reaction² to the news that Girls Aloud wear glossy black catsuits in their latest video, just as Sugababes and All Saints did full-on latex earlier in the year³ . A degree of titilation, of course, but I doubt questions will be asked in Parliament.

If anyone's stunned that I made a reference to popular culture (I can, you know), I'd better explain that I heard about this via a slightly different angle: T. sent me a scan of the Daily Star article about the costumes, in which Girl Aloud's next album, is described as 'progressive'.
I hope this doesn't give Fish ideas.

1: I wasn't thinking of Benny & Björn. Or trying not to, anyway.

2: Apart from the Mail On Sunday, of course – that could whip concrete into a frenzy of moral outrage.

3: Not that I'm counting....

'Coincidentally', I received an unsolicited leaflet from a certain bleach manufacturer today, hyping explaining the additional hygiene risks of fortnightly refuse collection and oh-so-helpfully providing a money-off voucher. The interesting part is that the text is clearly targeted at first-time recipients of wheelie bins.

I'm not sure how to interpret that. One possibility is that the Council informed the chemicals company of the scheme. If there's a need to disseminate public health information, that's for the government (local or national) to do, on a non-commercial basis. I don't think it's appropriate for a council to assist a multinational corporation in gaining a commercial advantage – I really don't think it's appropriate for the council to be paid for that service.
Whatever; I'm just speculating, and perhaps the Council wouldn't have even dreamt of that.

The alternative would be for the company to have contacted the Council, perhaps as a Freedom of Information request for the roll-out schedule. When that process extends to every council in the UK (as seems logical), one gains a grudging respect for the marketers.

I'm so impressed that I'm not going to throw the leaflet away immediately, as I would ordinarily.
Don't worry, I haven't totally abandoned my principles, and by definition I won't buy that product, because the company put a leaflet through my door. Instead, I'm going to save it, and as a mark of respect for the marketers' initiative, it will be the first item into my new recycling bin.

Oh; and one other thing: the leaflet also advertises an opportunity to win a weekend in... Helsinki. No disrespect to the Finns, but I doubt the average Lancastrian would be overjoyed by that prospect.

Reeling from that shock, I was rather more concerned to read that 140 g contains 60% of an adult's GDA of salt. Good thing I don't eat them often (though I'd love to).

That leaves three options.

• I could buy slightly elderly bananas at a premium price from my local corner shop. I'd rather not, as I feel such shops occupy an obsolete market sector which I'd be happy to see slip out of business.
• Or I could condone counter-productive tokenism. I don't think so.

Instead it asks for further clarification: do I mean that York, i.e. the York, the original, or do I mean York, Pennsylvania, USA? This is the 'Weather' section of the website of the British Broadcasting Corporation. Which York am I more likely to be wanting?

My office has just received the flat proofs of a forthcoming publication from the printers, to verify that the output of the production presses is as we require, before actually making the print run of several thousand copies.

To summarise the standard ISO 'A' paper size system, A0 has an area of 1 m² and each subsequent increment is half the size of the previous, so a sheet of A0 sliced in half across its width would give two sheets of A1, each of which would give two sheets of A2, etc.

Presuming the printers use that ISO system, each proof sheet looks to be A0 and is printed with four double-sided double-page spreads, widely spaced. Each individual page of the publication is A4, so that's 4xA3 on A0.
4xA3 = 2xA2 = A1= ½A0, which means fully half of each sheet is blank, to be cut off – for every 16 pages of the publication, 0.5m² of high-quality paper is simply discarded. I don't doubt it's recycled, but paper can only be reprocessed so many times before the fibres disintegrate, and chalk-rich, slightly shiny paper, itself using fresh wood pulp rather than recycled, can't be cheap.

The obvious solution would to be for the client/designer to make the individual pages smaller, thereby fitting the same number of double-page spreads onto A1 whilst still providing a moderate amount of essential offcutting space, or for the printer to use non-standard paper sizes specifically accommodating ISO sizes plus offcut space.
Maybe they do, and these proofs aren't laid out as on a production run. I hope so.

Another BBC article addresses the point, offering a little greater optimism. Acceptance of certain plastics by councils, even via doorstep collections, has drastically increased in recent years (25% of all the plastic bottles in household waste are now recycled, compared to 3% in 2001). That's to be applauded, but only as a first step – it still means 75% of plastic bottles aren't recycled, and bottles are only one class of plastic waste; the article's opening paragraph claims that only 7% of all UK plastics waste is recycled.

One thing I hadn't appreciated is the range of plastics used in everyday product packaging, which complicates recycling. I did know that margarine tubs are problematic (blended plastics are difficult to reprocess), but not that yoghurt pots are made of polystyrene, unusable in the standard bottle-recycling processes. Maybe that's something for a later stage, if it makes economic sense to establish a national network of polystyrene-reprocessing plants.

Or perhaps the proliferation of different plastics is something for the packaging producers to consider. Do we need such a wide range of plastics?
I can appreciate that some might be unsuitable for use with food, and others unsuitable for use with domestic (yet still rather noxious) cleaning products, but I suspect there could be greater standardisation. If all, say, bleach bottles were made of the same plastic, I imagine that'd generate sufficient quantities of specific waste to support reprocessing plants, whereas a few thousand tonnes (nationally) of each of 10-15 different compounds mightn't be commercially viable.
Without wishing to sound like some Green Party ascetic, I hope relatively-obscure, difficult-to-recycle plastics aren't being used for mere presentational purposes.

However, it's not enough to merely mark the label and return the disc (though there's nothing on the case to indicate otherwise), as there are corresponding checkboxes on the Amazon Rental website. My recommendation is to ensure you complete them too, as that guarantees, or at least increases the likelihood of the correct automatic procedure being instigated. If you don't, and the warehouse staff fail to notice the marked case, several problems can ensue, such as:

• Acknowledgement of receipt, but not that the DVD was flawed, requiring an e-mail to Amazon.
• Apology and promise that the replacement won't count against one's monthly total of discs rented.
• Logged total of discs rented increasing by one (because it's counted as the next item in the queue, not a second iteration of the earlier item), requiring an e-mail to Amazon.
• Apology.
• 'Replacement' disc arriving, and being precisely the same, still unplayable, DVD as was returned (because the flaw hadn't been logged, the disc hadn't been taken out of the system, and I was counted as being the next recipient in its queue), requiring an e-mail to Amazon and, this time, ticking the boxes on the case and on the website.
• Seeing the correct procedure instigated via the Amazon Rental website, and having a degree of confidence that it'll work now.

To their credit, Customer Services have been prompt and helpful, the problem seeming to be a result of inflexible automatic systems. I almost blame myself for not logging the flaw properly on the website in the first place. Almost, but not quite – as I said, there's nothing on the packaging to suggest that more is required than marking the label and visiting a post box.

[Update 12:40: Bugger. It seems Amazon don't agree with my logic (or I was surmising from incorrect data). They're not going to send a replacement at all, merely giving me a credit for a different DVD. But I wanted to see this one! :(

Not that it's relevant, it's the final two 'episodes' of Krzysztof Kieślowski 'Dekalog'. ]

It's enjoyable enough, I suppose, if repetitive, and once I'd mastered the control system I soon found myself drawn into finding the optimum tactics, angles, etc., though I still don't quite 'get' FPS games – I prefer something more strategic or, well, intellectually-challenging. Yet I also found it somewhat disturbing.

The dominant feeling I was left with after each session was immense loneliness (not something to which I'm generally prone). Almost by definition, the only other entities in the game world were enemies, and the only interractions via a gun or grenade. It's all so... well, it goes beyond 'cold' or 'sterile'; I received an impression of massive emptiness.

This was the standalone 'narrative campaign' version, of course; there's also the networked 'player vs. player' mode, which is apparently the source of the game's true longevity. Somehow I think that'd be worse. I don't want to kill my friends.

However, I didn't truly loathe him* until he used the ultra-casual, ****ing childish phrase 'tom-ketch' rather than simply 'tomato ketchup'.

Far too 'rugger-with-Tarquin-in-Tuscany' for my sensibilities....

*: metaphorically, okay?

There are some good points in the accompanying comments, too – Mark Vernon's stands out.

In the process of hauling my old sofa out for collection by the Council, I happened to see inside it through a tiny gap in the upholstery. So many combinations of circumstances could have prevented that, but I was lucky: there was the missing knife, which had somehow passed through an unbroken sheet of fabric and lodged in the underlying frame.

It's difficult to describe my quiet pleasure at its 'return'; this really matters to me.
However, as I said in that earlier entry, I don't think I'll carry it regularly again and risk its loss.

I'm also concerned about the environmental/ecological impacts. Certain areas are valuable because they're undisturbed; because there is no public access. Daytrippers may like to stroll along a clifftop, but what about the peregrines nesting just below the new path? How about the rare plants being trampled?
I'd like to think I'm being unduly pessimistic, that agencies such as Natural England would take conservation into account, and walkers would understand, but I've encountered strange attitudes in some 'ramblers' who regard a right to roam as absolute, irrespective of consequences. There are places where conservation is simply incompatible with access. I hope planners have the courage to avoid compromise.

One more, overlapping concern: in order to meet public safety and accessibility legislation, would existing/new paths need to be developed? Regraded? Fenced? Tarmac'd? Steep clifftop tracks and rocky beaches aren't exactly wheelchair-friendly.
Never mind the expense, I feel that'd ruin the experience. Coasts are inherently hazardous places, with crumbling cliffs and slippery rocks, but that slight wildness is part of the attraction. It's a bit of a dilemma: is it better to permit the optimum experience, in which some can't participate, or provide access for all to a diminished experience?

Ultimately, I suppose I'm saying I would welcome increased access, but not if that reduced the British coast into a mere leisure amenity. It's too important for that.

[Update 16:08: The Guardian has addressed the same story, and increased my concern. That article mentions a footpath (which somehow conveys a sense of it being a homogenised, lowest-common-denominator, national resource) up to ten metres wide. Okay, that doesn't literally mean a 10m-wide belt of tarmac, but that's still a considerable land area to be de facto appropriated by the state.

The Environment Secretary is quoted as having said that:

Incidentally:

However, the fourteen spiders in there at present, sheltering from tonight's thunderstorm, are simply abusing my hospitality....

A born-again christian, Sariya Allan had refused to listen to a child reading a Harry Potter novel because 'god had stated in the bible that witchcraft was "an abomination"' and 'author JK Rowling [is] a "real witch"... hearing the seven-year-old girl reading out spells from the story would leave [Allan] cursed'.
It's alleged that the assistant headmaster questioned the seriousness of Allan's objection, and took disciplinary action. Allan resigned.

Fine so far, but the depressing part was that I strongly suspected Allan's case would succeed; that a preposterous attitude to a childrens' book would be accepted as a legitimate expression of personal faith, to be respected by the employer. It seemed an extreme instance, but arguably within the remit of discrimination legislation.

Thankfully, I was wrong. The tribunal found against Allan, confirming that her handling of the situation was unreasonable, thereby neatly dodging the religion issue.

Online, if one claims to have said something, or that someone else did, one can immediately link to that earlier instance, allowing the reader to see for him/herself. In print, one has the advantage/disadvantage of needing a reader's trust that one's reference to the earlier instance is accurate representation; there's no direct link.

However, I've just noticed that the latter shop sells milk in pint containers, unlike the conventional 500 ml (0.88 pint) cartons, so it's actually the cheaper source of emergency milk.

Is it really worthwhile to sell pints any more? I can't be the only one to have failed to read the labels, presumed they were more expensive, and therefore presumed that all the shop's stock would be correspondingly more expensive than elsewhere. It's certainly cost the owner several years of my (infrequent) custom, all for the sake of 68 ml.

For what it's worth, I'm very much pro-wind power generation (as a supplement to nuclear). I spent years working and more-or-less living within 1 km of a 10-turbine farm near Lancaster, so I'm fully aware of the noise impact (negligible unless one deliberately listens for it and unreasonably expects absolute silence) and I feel turbines generally enhance the landscape, not detract – I wouldn't welcome them in a National Park, but merely 'pretty' locations without that special status are entirely reasonable. As for preserving some fantasy of the countryside as a rural idyll: no. Just no.

For anyone who knows the area around Quernmore, or more specifically the geology, the obvious question is 'where!?' – the Conder Valley is glacial till over Carboniferous sandstone. I'm certainly not aware of anything igneous (volcanic) this side of the Lake District, ~40 km away.

Whatever; I certainly admire the resourcefulness of a dairy farmer who can get 80p per litre for water rather than 18p per litre for milk.

I have a little less respect for his customers. If this entry's title is a bit cryptic, it's the reverse spelling of 'soft in t' 'ead', a fine Northern Lancashire phrase somewhat synonymous with 'naïve' which, spelled backwards, is....

Internment: temporary imprisonment.
Interment: burial.

It seemed better than most, thanking me for "doing the right thing by buying this genuine DVD". Too often, industry messages seem to characterise legitimate purchasers as potential criminals.

However, the content of the other side was jaw-dropping.

That's appalling. I wasn't personally involved, but the deaths occurred only a few kilometres from my home, so perhaps I'm a little more sensitive about the commercial exploitation of the tragedy than I might be otherwise.
Unfashionably, I support copyright and the rights of intellectual property holders, but for the industry bodies to express their legitimate concerns in such a way is totally alienating and hence counterproductive.

I'll have to gently point that out to my boss (a PhD in psychology, which means she's disinclined to be contradicted on such topics), who disagrees with my request for extended periods of uninterrupted focus.

Interesting irrelevant detail: the article credits Jamie Courtenay Grimwood with 'additional reporting'. That's an unusual double-barrelled surname and Jamie is indeed the son of one of my favourite authors, Jon Courtenay Grimwood.

An 'off-topic' area of the unofficial Porcupine Tree Forum features a poll about evolution, as if it's something to be determined by popular acclaim.

Three scratches on the inner side of my elbow (barbed wire, Scorton, yesterday) are making the skin on the inner side of my wrist feel tight, as if it's healing there instead. It's an odd sensation.

I hope no-one reading this would do that. Just don't. Use a bin.
However, given that it's happening, I wonder whether there's any mileage in the idea of using paper-based sticks.

It seems my own institution is no different:

The proprietor of my local chippy apparently favours Thai giant catfish, pangasius, as the texture is sufficiently similar to that of haddock. A Morecambe shop owner disagrees, considering the taste to be too alien for unadventurous customers, and thinks South African (or Argentinian) kingklip would be a better analogue for the flavour of haddock.

Intuitively, I'm not entirely happy with the thought of transporting food halfway across the planet (unless these species could be farmed in the UK?), but if that's what's required to save European fish populations, perhaps it's necessary.

I suppose some would say there's another option: avoid buying fish & chips altogether.

Don't be ridiculous.

I see that their landlord has suddenly installed a bench, table, large potted plant and two windowboxes, considerably brightening a bare yard. I briefly thought it was a pleasant gesture, maybe even an acknowledgement of the students' seemingly responsible attitude, but then my cynicism reminded me that this is the start of the period when postgrad students are viewing houses for next academic year....

Unless it isn't actually shelved, and one has to discreetly request it, like the special meat.

It's a red graphic on white, accompanied by mid-grey text on the left. The colours can't be changed, the relative orientation of the graphic and text can't be altered (the text can't go below or to the right, or can't be resized relative to the graphic), and both elements have to be present – it's not permitted to use the graphic alone without text. One section of the institution does use a different colour combination, but that was specifically authorised at the highest level, by senior management. If anyone else tries it, I need to be the proverbial tonne of bricks.

Arriving at work this morning, I happened to notice that the refurbished main entrance to my building (central admin) is almost finished. The wall has been painted a deep red and the logo has been attached. It's dark grey, and omits the text. Dark grey on red, just the graphic, and 1½ m high.

Now what do I do? How can I intimidate persuade departmental web maintainers to use the authorised format, when they can simply say "well, you don't"?

It's also an instance of a retailer pricing a product merely on the basis of perceived 'premium' status. If unrefined sugar has undergone less processing, it ought to cost less than white refined sugar. So why doesn't it?

The Mail's headline? 'Europe Turns Out Our Lights'.

It's mildly amusing, therefore, that the supermarket is introducing a pay & display system 'for the assistance of customers'. How does the imposition of a delay and the requirement to obtain a ticket assist customers, when previously there was no restriction whatsoever?
There may be a perfectly valid reason for the introduction, but customer convenience certainly isn't it.

One section of his article is particularly interesting, and states my own view of the underlying cause better than I could: basically, people don't respect communal areas.

Those losses are currently partially met by charging more for business post, but the company wishes to be more competitive in that sector so wants to reduce industry's subsidy of domestic post i.e. charge consumers more in order to charge businesses less. They also want restrictions on lucrative junk mail to be repealed (which suggests they were hit hard by the discovery of their covert opt-out last year).

That's what the company wants. What's in it for consumers? It all seems a little one-sided to me.

The Royal Mail, or at least the BBC article, phrases this as an issue of the company's survival, but why the **** should I care? So long as a competitor can provide a comparable service, it wouldn't even slightly bother me if one particular supplier ceased trading.
It's an interesting coincidence that TNT has also announced today that they're to provide a door-to-door delivery service, the first to directly match the Royal Mail's.

If the Royal Mail wishes to be more attractive to the commercial sector, then it should stop pretending to be a service to the nation, and accept both the advantages and the exposure of the open market:

• Charge a full, unsubsidised price for stamps – fine: I'll have no hesitation in switching to a cheaper competitor.
• Charge businesses less – fine, though I'd be surprised if the Royal Mail could genuinely compete.
• Deliver junk mail – fine, though the Royal Mail should then be subject to the Mailing Preference Service, thereby having to check the opt-out database before delivering.
• Lose any remaining public support, fail to compete in an open market and go bust – absolutely fine with me.

• Retain the slightly misplaced public perception that the Royal Mail is something special, forget about commercial competitiveness, and stop complaining.

Yet Friday's thankfully less devastating crash on the outskirts of Kendal, a place name probably at least recognised nationally, isn't being reported as 'the Kendal crash' but merely by the county in which it occurred: 'the Cumbria rail crash'.
I noticed that oddity in a TV news item last night, when a reporter signed-off as "[name], for the BBC, in Cumbria", and it seems newspaper coverage is settling on the same shorthand term. Where in Cumbria?

I'm not sure why the metropolitan media don't just admit they have negligible knowledge of, or interest in, anything beyond the Home Counties, and just report it as having happened 'somewhere in the North'.

Okay, 2001's rail crash in North Yorkshire, about as far from Selby as the 'Cumbria crash' was from Kendal, was reported as 'the Selby crash', which is an obvious exception to my suggested trend, but I think the general, and blindingly obvious point holds: news in SE England is over-reported, at the expense of anywhere much more than an an hour from Central London.

This isn't just 'Southerner envy' – important information is being withheld by sheer laziness. Imagine if someone with family in Carlisle or Penrith heard about the crash via one of these excessively vague reports. Imagine if someone else had a friend on that train, but who was due to have disembarked at Oxenholme. What use is 'train crash in Cumbria' in informing those people whether to be concerned?

[Update 28/02/07: And now, a word from our railways correspondent: Tim.
As he says, the Pendolino coaches survived a 153 km/h (95 mph) derailment remarkably well, and injuries were due to people being hurled around within intact cylinders rather than the vehicles themselves being wrecked. Despite skewed media reporting, rail remains a very safe means of transport.]

Responding to an ostensibly frivolous e-petition about legal recognition of "Jedi Knights as a religion on par with Christianity, Islam and other beliefs", the Government said:

[Sort-of via Sal.]

Who tracked every single specifically British potato (no grubby foreigners in this survey, thank you very much) that was consumed specifically in Britain, and ascertained how each was prepared?

That set me thinking of crack teams of Potato Inspectors, going door-to-door from Shetland to Cornwall, bursting in on terrified households to demand: "Is that potato British? What are you going to do with it? Eh? Eh? Step away from the chip pan!"
I can imagine the squads on cross-Channel ferries rushing about wildly, interrogating anyone suspected of chewing, then suddenly stopping for a cup of tea (each) as they'd crossed into French territory, where potato consumption goes unsurveyed.

I reckon there's at least a short story there. If anyone has a go, give me a credit, eh?

However, I've just discovered that:

Whose brilliant idea was that?

Carnforth, like similar northern Lancashire placenames, is 'Carnf'th', not 'Carn-forth', as the spelling might imply.

Newcastle-upon-Tyne is 'new-CASTLE', not 'NEW-castle'. I sometimes catch myself making that mistake, but I'm improving.

The Forest of Bowland is 'BOH-l'nd', not 'boh LAND', separated into two words. Admittedly, I've only heard one person say that: Princess Alexandra, the University's ex-Chancellor, who annoyed Bowland College officers and graduates at graduation ceremonies for forty years.

One more I'm less sure about: at least the way I was brought up, the 'ver' in 'Liverpool' is silent: 'Li'pool'.

Unfortunately, it also seems that commercial 'claims-handling agents' are exploiting the situation (look at the adverts accompanying a Google search for 'bank charge claim'), offering to assist claimants on a 'no win, no fee' basis.
It needs to be made absolutely clear that these companies are parasites, and should be totally avoided. One should never pay any intermediary to reclaim bank charges.

All information and documentation, including template letters, is available free, without registration, at consumer-action websites such as MoneySavingExpert, as is the support of groups like penaltycharges or consumeractiongroup.

I still can't help you find a job in Lancaster, and if you'd actually looked at it before writing, you'd have found nothing in this website to suggest I have any more contacts in the engineering sector than in the entertainment industry.

By, er, 2022.

In what sense can 'The Science Of Discworld II: The Globe' – a sequel – be considered "... a unique book,...", as stated in promotional text on the back cover?

Whose marvelous idea was it to invent (not-specifically-labeled) menthol shampoo? Mere seconds after applying it, my scalp felt cold, as if medical alcohol was evaporating off it. For I moment I wondered whether my mother had refilled an old shampoo bottle with something noxious.

Though I've had one for about six years, I don't actually like beards very much (somehow my mental self-image doesn't include one): I'm not pro-beards, I'm anti-shaving. The aging effect of daily skin irritation can go without saying, but shaving just takes too long for me. As the article claims, the average man will spend six months of his life simply removing hair from his face. What a waste.

I'm obviously unfamiliar with modern shaving technology, so I hadn't realised that electric shavers are unpopular and being rendered obsolete by the latest generation of wet razors. The five-blade type (I thought those adverts were just spoofs...) allegedly cuts away hairs beneath the surface of the skin. Ew.

Why not try a beard? The enforced absence from work at the end of December might be a good time to experiment. It is best done in one's private time, as the period of growing one in can look scruffy and it has to be said that not everyone can grow a full beard – I doubt I could have done so before my mid-twenties and it's still slightly thin at the sides. There's little worse than studenty wisps, so be sure before you go out in public!

Incidentally, women should know that though stubble can be uncomfortable, the longer hairs of a proper beard are said to be much more pleasant. ;)

*: No. Don't say it.

Yea, and verily: 'fa-la-la-la-la, la-la la la'.

¹: Or maybe just a random² man in the street.
²: Very random.

It was an e-mail from the Psychology department, so one has to wonder whether this was pure chance, a standard Outlook annoyance, or someone playing games....

A Caton resident has written to 'The Citizen' to complain that the 'street' lights are now left on all night rather than being switched off at 22:00 as originally planned (later extended to midnight).

In principle, I agree with her argument that it's a waste of electricity, though I don't really see the point of complaining via the 'Letters' page. Is she trying to shame the City Council, or merely self-publicising? It's a radical suggestion, but I wonder whether she's considered contacting, say, the Council.

However, the end of her letter really caught my attention:

People have the right to walk, cycle or ride horses along the route at any time of the day or night (so long as they provide their own light). There's no curfew, and moral guardians who'd like all compliant little sheep to be tucked up in bed by 22:00 can go **** themselves. With the lights off.

The Guardian mentions this almost as an afterthought in an article reporting environment minister Ben Bradshaw's sensationalist advice that supermarket customers should remove superfluous packaging from the goods they've purchased and leave it at the checkout.
Attention-grabbing, but somewhat confrontational, even childish. Action needs to be taken at-source, not after purchase, and though it's important for consumers to inform retailers that they (we) don't want pointless shiny wrappers² , I don't think stunts are especially helpful.

Another interesting throwaway (sorry) statistic in the article is that since introducing a rewards scheme Tesco claim that customers take 10 million fewer carrier bags each week. Imagine how many were being given out before, and how many still are.

¹: Define 'excessive'. There's the loophole.
²: You know what I mean, H....

It seems that a private number was published on a website (to which I have editing access, but not daily fact-checking responsibility) as an alternative number for one of the businesses on campus; let's call it the hairdresser. Most callers dialed the main, correct number, but some must have used the incorrect one.

Hypothetically, after receiving a few misdirected calls I'd have rung the company myself and let them investigate the error, but that didn't actually happen. The owner of the incorrectly-listed number started issuing fake appointments....

I seriously doubt I could do that any more. Holding a pen long enough to write a birthday card or a cheque is enough to cause me mild discomfort, but three hours of rapid, continuous writing? Barely conceivable.

Thirteen years ago, when I sat something like a dozen three-hour papers for my Finals, writing by hand was totally routine, but now I'd literally have to train for the event.

And, as the title implies, the result might be barely legible. Even I can't read my 'joined-up' handwriting any more; notes to myself need to be in capitals.

Why is the last shot in a whisky bottle termed the 'heel tap'?
It isn't. The term refers to a small amount left in a glass after a toast, and which must be consumed before the next toast can proceed.
It comes from pre-17th Century shoemakers' (cobblers!) terminology: a peg removed as the final stage in assembling a shoe's heel.

Do most men find women's boots sexy? What is it about them?
I remember reading somewhere that of those men admitting to an overt fetish, most were drawn to female shoes. Amongst those of us less obsessed, I suspect a majority find them attractive, even titilating, though I'd be reluctant to speak for the general population, obviously.
Why are they considered sexy? I'm sure a specific psychological explanation exists, but I'm not aware of it. Speculating wildly, it could be that they combine a number of characteristics individually considered 'interesting' - heels, leather, laces, etc.

Who was the vicar of Lowgill, near Bentham, in the 1970s?
Technically it's Tatham Fell Church of the Good Shepherd rather than Lowgill Church, but beyond that, I'm struggling.

Why is the bar in 'The Britannia', Freehold, Lancaster so large?
It certainly seemed to be an anomalously large, bare space tonight, looking underpopulated even though the actual number of customers was probably respectable.
I'd guess that it was purpose-built as an events venue when the Freehold estate was first laid-out in the mid-19th Century. There are two other pubs in the locality, but they're literally public houses: drinking venues no larger than the neighbouring residences, unsuitable for meetings or dancing. Just a guess.

The plastic of the tube seems to have perished: it's become dry and brittle, and it cracked when squeezed. Great advert, eh?

*: shouldn't that be 'for dry skin', anyway? If I had smooth & supple skin I wouldn't need moisturiser.

A prime example: if, like me, you have long hair, ensure it's out of the way before blowing your nose.

Ew.

Firstly, the initial launch only affects niche products: ready meals (which I don't buy) and organic produce (which I certainly don't buy).
The former is a sector using excessive packaging anyway – it's good that the excess will be biodegradable, but it'd be drastically better to reduce the absolute amount of packaging instead.
The latter is somewhat patronising, as if sensible packaging is only an issue for the 'right-on' Tarquins & Cressidas who buy organic. Recycling and related matters are for everyone, and all classes (in multiple senses of the word) of product.

Besides, most vegetables come with integral packaging: their skins. Any artificial packaging is superfluous in such cases, biodegradable or otherwise. I've seen instances when products, perfectly protected by their natural outer coating, have been sold on polystyrene trays under cellophane simply to label vegetables as organic and somehow of 'premium' quality.

*: 'Ungrateful' is the wrong word – I don't owe a supermarket chain gratitude – but I can't think of a better one.

The company has restricted the opt-out routes. As I discovered yesterday, the e-mail address auto-responds with an attempt to dissuade the recipient, plus a form to print, complete and return by post – not by e-mail. The stated phone number has also stopped accepting calls.
Hence, follow yesterday's instructions to opt-out by post, remembering to state that you understand and accept the consequences. It'll cost you a postage stamp (which I rather resent – one shouldn't have to pay the Royal Mail to complain about the Royal Mail), but hopefully it'll cost them rather more in lost revenue as advertisers realise the target audience is declining.

Unlike the DMA's Mailing Preference Service opt-out from personally-addressed junk mail, the Royal Mail Door to Door opt-out only lasts for one year. Grrr.... Remember to repeat the process next year.
That mightn't be necessary, as the DMA is working on something more permanent, apparently. Mention of the Government's COI in that article implies that it might be possible to avoid commercial junk whilst still receiving official information leaflets.

On the whole, I'm not as hostile to the Royal Mail as these entries might suggest, but I approach all unsolicited communications with zero-tolerence – I'd kick a fluffy little kitten if it tried to deliver a leaflet, sp*m e-mail or banner ad, never mind a multinational postal company. A sp*mmer is a sp*mmer.

There's not much one can do about leaflets hand-delivered by the companies themselves, but I've discovered that it is entirely possible to avoid the unaddressed items delivered door-to-door by Royal Mail postmen. The Royal Mail remains legally obliged to deliver anything addressed to 'The Occupier', but the opt-out still covers quite a lot (about a quarter of all unaddressed junk mail, apparently).

Needless to say, the Royal Mail is paid to deliver leaflets door-to-door, so doesn't exactly advertise that the opt-out exists. I discovered it via a BBC report about a postman who produced his own advisory leaflet and delivered it to households on his rounds. Well done, Roger Annies, even if your bosses' response was to suspend you for misconduct.

The opt-out procedure itself is extremely straightforward. Simply write to the following address, stating your name, address (including postcode) and that you are asking the Royal Mail to cease delivery of Door to Door mail (that's their specific name for the service) to your address. Remember to sign and date your request.

Door to Door Opt Outs
Royal Mail Door to Door
Kingsmead House
Oxpens Road
Oxford
OX1 1RX

Alternatively, send the same details in an e-mail to:
optout@royalmail.co.uk
Or phone:
08457 950 950.

[See updates, below, and follow-up, here. Sending an e-mail will get you a printable confirmation form, which needs to be returned by post. I suspect a phone call would have had the same result, but the line has been closed.]

The BBC claims one has to complete a form, but the staff of my local post office knew nothing about that. Luckily, the postmaster is a reader of the Daily Mail (he seems quite rational otherwise) and told me that there was a form in today's 'newspaper'. I bought a copy (I hope you appreciate the sacrifice), but discovered that the Mail had composed its own form rather than duplicating something 'official', so a normal letter, e-mail or phone call should be entirely adequate.

A Royal Mail spokesman, quoted in the BBC article:

[Update 16:37: The Royal Mail responded to my opt-out e-mail within 30 minutes, which was impressive in itself, but the message was a clarification and/or attempt to dissuade me.
No, I'm not "considering 'Opting Out' of receiving Door to Door items", I am opting-out.

The points they wished to bring to my attention are:

• This opt-out only relates to unaddressed mail. Items addressed to a specific name, to 'The Occupier' or to any other generic recipient will still be delivered, by law.
• It's not possible for the Royal Mail to distinguish between commercial advertising material and official communications from Central/Local Government & other public bodies [at present – see follow-up]. Opting out from Royal Mail Door to Door stops all unaddressed items.
• Self-evidently, the opt-out will affect all residents of the designated address – do they agree with this action?

Two points:

• The clarification e-mail came from an address which doesn't accept replies. Cunning....
  Don't simply hit 'Reply:', but change the 'To:' address to optout@royalmail.co.uk.
• I suspect that they're not going to accept my e-mailed reply, as the form seemed intended to be printed, signed and posted (in an envelope – remember them?). I object to paying the Royal Mail to transport my message to the Royal Mail, so sent the e-mail anyway. I'll let you know if it's rejected.

[Update 17:01: I was right. Sending the completed form to that e-mail address resulted in my receiving the same generic response and a blank, printable form. Might as well just send a letter in the first place.]

No? Then how the **** could you have won?

Maybe some countries' national lotteries work by randomly selecting members of the population (I doubt it, but maybe); but surely that'd be based on census data or otherwise limited to citizens/residents of that nation. What are the odds of, say, a US citizen being randomly selected as winner of, say, the Bulgarian National Lottery? How would the organisers have obtained that person's name and address? Would they have entered the entire US population in the Bulgarian draw? Why?

To be clear – here are a couple of points paraphrased from the official UK Lottery FAQ & rules:

• If you didn't purchase a ticket, you couldn't have won.
• It's not necessary to be a British citizen, but you do need to have been in the country in order to participate. To have bought a ticket in person you would have had to have been in the UK. To have subscribed via the web you would have had to provide a UK address (thereby proving residence in the UK) and paid using a UK bank account.

Another point, about which I'm not certain: so far as I know, the Lottery organisers don't contact winners, it's for the winners to contact the organisers. I do know that millions of pounds of prizes have gone unclaimed since the Lottery was founded in 1994.

Another clue is that if the 'notification' e-mail asks for money to process the claim, it's a scam – the UK National Lottery doesn't do that.

Many customers use loyalty cards to collect points as they shop, to be subsequently redeemed for money off future purchases. The plan, nicely obvious in hindsight, is to award additional points for each bag the customer provides, including Tesco bags reused from last time.

I'd also support the reverse, 'stick' model, whereby retailers charge for bags, but credit is due to Tesco for a 'carrot' measure which not only saves resources but also makes the customer feel good about helping – very important.

*: An exception would be Sainsbury's, who briefly offered a similar, cash-based, money-back scheme but inexplicably withdrew it last year.

In many cases, embassies occupy old palaces or 18th-19th Century office buildings; often, a flag or brass plaque is the only feature distinguishing an embassy from a corporate headquarters or apartment block. Prague springs to mind: In June 2005, I thought certain South-American and Baltic embassies looked particularly anonymous. The French and Italian Embassies were slightly grander, but still, there were no visible guards and one could approach the front doors. The Polish Embassy is a detached building surrounded by a fence, but the gates and the gardens were open to the public. The British Embassy is an exception, a modern vehicle barrier clashing with the older façade. The US Embassy is further out from the centre, so I only saw it from a bus: elegant enough, but behind a large fence.

The Diplomatic Quarter of Berlin is relatively well-known, possibly because many of the embassies were purpose-built afresh after 1945/1990 rather than occupying older, repurposed premises. Unfortunately, I didn't get an opportunity to wander the streets there last week, but I did notice the Scandinavian compound: Norway, Denmark, Sweden, Finland and Iceland have combined their embassies into one complex. The surrounding decorative fence/cladding is probably stronger than it looks, but the overall impression is of inclusivity.

Of the postwar Occupying Powers, the Russian Embassy is in Unter den Linden, the main street of the historical city. It's slightly set back from the road behind a walled courtyard, but there are no visible guards. The French Embassy is in a corner of Pariser Platz, diagonally opposite the Brandenburg Gate. A policeman is stationed outside, but until I saw the flag on the building, I thought he was watching over the tourists rather than the embassy.

The British Embassy is in Wilhelmstraße; with the Hotel Adlon, it accounts for one side of an entire block. At each end of this section of the street, at the junctions with Unter den Linden and Behrenstraße, the road is closed by modern-looking retractable bollards, each about the diameter of an oildrum. At the northern end of the street, there's a vehicle checkpoint staffed by at least five police officers; there are two at the other end and two more on the street itself. And this is the adjacent street, not the embassy itself, which is plainly custom-built as a fortress. Look past the 'fun' exterior and you'll notice there are no windows until the third floor, and that the front entrance is behind a 4m high metal gate & reinforced stone wall.

The USA is building a massive new embassy on the corner of Pariser Platz and Ebertstraße, right by the Brandenburg Gate. No doubt it'll be fortified to the same extent as the British one (in the next street – I wonder whether there'll be a common back entrance), but temporarily the US Embassy is in Neustädtische Kirchstraße, behind four emphatically non-retractable concrete roadblocks, a sixties-style vehicle checkpoint and a huge amount of wire. In a city physically divided from 1961 to 1989, the effect is somewhat tasteless.

Shouldn't one be grateful, even proud, that one's home country takes such exceptional and ostentatiously visible care of its premises and people?
Absolutely not. These defences are the direct consequence of the UK butting-into situations where it had, and has, no business, unnecessarily putting the UK's more fundamental interests – the welfare of the British – at risk. I feel profoundly ashamed to be a citizen of a country which feels a need to turn its embassy into an intimidating vault.

Well, I would, if I believed 'my' government actually represented me.

New latex has a particularly persistant odour anyway, but can anyone identify the powder used on/in Mexican-manufactured balloons to prevent them sticking together? It smells vegetable-based rather than mineral, and really binds to the skin. Eight hours later, having washed dishes, cooked with chili peppers and showered, I can still clearly smell oddly sweetened latex on my hands.
It's not pleasant; I just hope it's safe. Is it just a variety of cornstarch? Perhaps I should wear rubber gloves to handle the balloons....

*: I spent the rest of the day struggling with the webcasts of other Colleges' Graduation ceremonies; the high- and low-bandwidth Real streams were fine, but the high-bandwidth Windows Media stream was formatted as low-bandwidth i.e. a tiny postage stamp of video in a decent-sized window. Ultimately, I don't know what happened, but it had better work for the remaining fourteen ceremonies this week.

[Update 18/07/06: Returning to work this morning, we discovered that none of that batch of balloons had retained enough helium to remain buoyant, so I had an excellent opportunity to refresh my perfume. Wonderful.
I also needed to move four 'park benches' which were repaired and creosoted... yesterday. I can't imagine how Estates thought they'd be dry and suitable for contact with peoples' very best clothes within 18 hours.]

Place a little sugar, preferably unrefined brown cane sugar, into a large mug.
Add a little full-fat milk (yes, always milk before water).

As soon as the water boils, pour it into the mug, still bubbling.
Wait 2-3 minutes.

Swirl, squeeze and remove the... where's the teabag?
Aw; bugger.

Pour the sweetened milky water down the drain and start again.

Enjoy the second attempt even more.

As an example, Thom Yorke's new don't-call-it-a-solo album, 'The Eraser' costs £8.99 and is eligible for free delivery when in a combined order totalling more than £15. Adding it to my wishlist drops that to £7.41. Bargain!
Looking closer (i.e. only after having transferred it to the shopping basket) I notice that it'd be coming from Amazon Jersey, not Amazon UK itself, and hence isn't eligible for free delivery. Postage is £1.24, so the total price is £8.65; still cheaper than Amazon UK but bear with me for a moment....

If I want to buy Alain de Botton's book 'The Architecture of Happiness' at the same time, that costs a straightforward £10.78 plus £2.75 postage; Amazon Jersey doesn't sell it.

Bought together... well, I can't buy them together; Amazon treats them as two entirely purchases costing £8.65 and £13.53. Calculating the total for myself, that's £22.18.
Yet starting the whole process again, avoiding my wishlist and thereby specifying I want the CD from Amazon UK, I am able to combine the order, qualifying for free delivery and paying £19.77.

Sometimes buying two separate items from Amazon Jersey can be cheaper than a combined order from Amazon UK (a sample purchase of a DVD and a CD I won't bother to itemise would have saved 14p), but I want to make two points:

• Buying from Amazon Jersey should be an option for those who want it, but one should have to consciously choose it, rather than it being the unstated default.
• It should be made clear, up front, that one would be buying from Amazon Jersey, and potentially paying more than necessary, if one uses the wishlist.

Lying in the garden this evening, finishing 'Century Rain' *, I noticed someone nearby was talking on her phone whilst sunbathing. I suppose it's as valid a use of time as any, though I personally wouldn't have found it entirely compatible with relaxation.

Yet I also saw two people kicking a football about whilst using their phones (and men can't multitask, supposedly). I presume they weren't talking to one another.

Do people never put the things away?

*: Which turned out to be pretty good. I'm sure I'll try other books by Alistair Reynolds fairly soon.

Two things you need to know: I dislike prog rock, reserving especial loathing for Yes, and I don't believe in expressing opinions from the protection of online anonymity that I wouldn't defend face-to-face.

I'm not exactly reticent in explaining that whilst I enjoy progressive rock (i.e. music which actively challenges genre boundaries, creating new music) I intensely dislike 'prog' rock (music of a specific, fixed genre which was genuinely progressive in the early 1970s but which ceased to progress). 'Progressive' and 'prog' are not the same thing.
There are bands I like which were part of the 'prog' genre when it was progressive, but which remained progressive and hence ceased to be 'prog'. There are also bands that stayed 'prog' and became a public and critical laughing stock – rightfully so. Unfortunately, that reputation unduly rubbed-off on the bands I do like. Hence my conclusion: that if crappy bands like Yes had never existed, bands I do like, such as Jethro Tull, would have achieved greater lasting critical and commercial success. Yes is an anathema.

All too often, I've witnessed, and occasionally been the target of, unrestrained verbal attacks of a cowardly savagery only possible because the arguments were online and the speakers had the protection of being thousands of kilometres from their victims. They tend to involve personal attacks, too, which are merely nasty and pointless.
Not that I'd be so childish anyway, but I operate under the basic principle of imagining I'm writing to someone in the same room. Debate might become heated, but it remains respectful and avoids the risk of being punched. To uncharacteristically use a football reference: 'Go for the ball, not the man'. As I said above, I also try to avoid making wild points online that I wouldn't feel able to support in a face-to-face conversation. I'm not perfect (no, really), but I generally achieve reasonable self-censorship.

I visited J & Fi for a meal last night (J remembered to cook – last time we ended up ordering a takeaway. Not that I'm complaining, and I rely on J recognising teasing!). They recently befriended one of their neighbours, and he joined us for dinner. In the course of the conversation, the subject of musical taste arose, and for some reason J. prompted me to confess a liking for 'Scandinavian prog'. Puzzled, I admitted slight embarrassment that there was a time when I quite liked the Flower Kings, but that they'd since joined my general dislike of the crap they were copying, such as Yes.
The neighbour had been sitting leant over the kitchen table, but at this point sat back, revealing a Yes t-shirt....

Time stopped.

I could have backed off, and attempted to say something conciliatory for the sake of politeness. Actually, I couldn't; I can't think of anything favourable about Yes whatsoever.

Sticking to my principles, I could have elaborated on my dislike in full, with vitriol. For a moment I seriously considered it. However, that would have been unprovoked and unnecessarily rude. Being prepared to defend a position is one thing, but forcing a view on someone uninvited is ruder.

I was glad to find that in the split-second of finding myself in a situation where I might have to espouse a contentious online opinion 'in real life' (i.e. tell a Yes fan I wished his favourite band had never existed), I had the courage of conviction to do so. However, I was more glad that my natural reserve intervened, and I didn't instigate an avoidable argument.
I simply said "Ah. Right. I don't like Yes." and changed the subject. To my dislike of post-1995 Jethro Tull. But that is indeed a different topic.

I missed 'Doctor Who' a fortnight ago, as I was in Madrid. I was still there during the Sunday repeat. I even managed to miss the Friday repeat, shown whilst I was on the train back from Bath.
Yet I didn't miss it altogether: I've just watched yet another repeat, a full fortnight late.

Some might complain about this use of the licence fee....

I suppose this'd be easier to implement in a nation with a population of 4 million than one with a population of 60 million, but that's what computers are for, and I hope this reaches the UK some time.

Preferably soon - it took about a decade for 'chip-and-pin' debit cards to cross the North Sea....

Now some busybody has devised ID bracelets for children – not invasive ID cards, but simply colourful bands noting the parents' mobile phone numbers. Where's the fun in that? Are future generations to be deprived of essential formative experiences?

Joking aside, it's a nice, simple idea. Pity about the way it's being sold, though:

Incidentally, 'hackney' referred to the horse, not the London borough!

*: The variety permitted to pick up passengers in the street or from taxi ranks, anyway. The term 'hackney carriages' distinguishes them from 'minicabs', which must be prebooked by phone. A minicab driver who accepts passengers without a booking would be breaking the law, so don't necessarily criticise a driver who seems to ignore you and drives past – if the sign on the taxi roof only displays a phone number, it's a minicab.

One highlight: "This attractive city hotel is located just 500 m from the centre of [an entirely different town]." It's 50 km from Madrid airport, itself not exactly within walking distance of the city centre.

Another hotel "is located around 3 km from the nearest lake". What?

I think she's wrong, of course. How can anyone doubt that mp3 players have 'caught-on' already? I know surgeons can be a little other-worldly, locked away in their theatres, but c'mon!
Secondly, even if some other format does replace .mp3 eventually, I'm confident that it'll be digital rather than something physical like a disc, tape or card. Whatever the software format, it'll need a storage medium and playback interface... such as a repurposed mp3 player.

More fundamentally, I'm puzzled by her 'wait-and-see' attitude. It's a little like delaying buying a VCR in the 1980s because DVDs would replace them in the 1990s. Why not buy now, and enjoy a player while it lasts? It's unlikely to become totally obsolete within its reasonable mechanical lifetime anyway, so this is a non-issue.

Then again, I suppose a mp3 player would be a considerable financial investment for someone on a surgeon's salary. Yeah, right.

As opposed to what? Was a different, industrial-strength rolling pin also available if I'd looked more carefully? Is there something about a cylinder of finest, sustainably-harvested Polish wood that's optimised for use in private, but which breaches workplace health & safety regulations? Is there a special rolling pin for use away from the home – a telescopic one for camping, perhaps?

However, some indication of the seriousness with which the BBC regards the issue is provided by the fact that the quiz is to be presented by Julian Fellowes, an actor with a slightly pompous, slightly precious manner, who tends to be associated with emotionally sterile dramas set in a 1920s & 30s Middle England that never really existed. I can't avoid the expectation that the prejudice to be reinforced is that proper use of the language is a whimsical, antiquated concept, as relevant to modern society as an ability to conjugate Latin verbs.

If it at least raises awareness, I suppose that's something, but I just hope the topic isn't actively ridiculed.

Not that English is a static, dead language, of course. Coincidentally, whilst writing this entry, I noticed an article in the Guardian about the evolution of usage. Bizarrely, the first paragraph blames the 'internet culture' for inaccuracies, but it's only a conduit, one of several by which people communicate – the medium doesn't necessarily determine the message.

All of which is to make the point that I'm not necessarily abreast of recent developments in caravanning. I saw something whilst cycling today that was new to me, but may have been established years ago: flags. I don't mean little triangular pennants, but full-size rectangular flags, on (telescopic?) flagpoles.

I know that national flags are a prominent part of the culture in countries such as the USA and Norway, but one of the things I quite like about the UK is that we don't feel a need to visibly affirm or celebrate nationhood. It's just... not done. Not doing so is part of what makes the British British.
Flags fly from churches and town halls sometimes (not routinely), and people wave flags at royal occasions. The flag is prominent at sporting events, but I'd say garments in the appropriate colours tend to outnumber actual flags. Schools don't display the national flag, and it's rare to see one flying from a private house or garden.

So where have these caravan flags come from? What inspires someone to travel to a different part of the UK and visibly proclaim his/her Britishness (or, rather worse, Englishness), especially when he/she doesn't do so at home?
I wonder if it's that people feel less inhibited about making such a gesture amongst strangers than in front of their everyday neighbours. In which case, I suppose it's only a matter of time before the inhibition is defeated and flagpoles appear in gardens. Which I definitely wouldn't applaud.

That's not answering my question, though: never mind how this might develop, what inspired it in the first place?
I wonder whether it's significant that it's associated with caravanning – would those people who go camping, or those who visit hotels, have the same attitude to flags?

*: Yes, 'caravanning' is a word, though somehow one feels it shouldn't be....

Returning from work a few minutes ago, I passed two people leaving Williamson Park carrying sawn-off branches. It suddenly occurred to me that there's a major reason why rotting wood isn't left to enrich wooded areas in the city: as rapidly as City Council workers generate dead material through essential maintenance work, Lancaster's middle-class nouveau-hippies steal it for their wood burners. They probably even congratulate themselves on being Green.

To summarise the central argument: there could be merit in making historical objects readily available to large numbers of people, with the full resources of modern curating and marketing, in places visited by large numbers of people ('world capitals'). At least in the examples cited by the article, the alternative is to display artefacts in underdeveloped and excessively exclusive museums in the countries which do indeed have the greater claim to ownership, but which aren't visited by anything like the same number of people.

My own (underinformed) opinion is that in most cases, the source countries have the most legitimate claim to ownership, but having acknowledged that, it'd be advantageous for those governments to make permanent loans to those nations best able to preserve and present key items. As the article says, the relics become ambassadors of their home nations, educating the world about those countries and potentially inspiring people to visit.

• Protein: 21.8g
• Carbohydrate: 0.3g
• Fat: 8.9g
• Fibre: < 0.1g
• Salt: 2.8g

Whatever; it tastes wonderful, especially after losing salt whilst cycling. Exactly what I needed!

That'd be 6 GW; nearly 5% of the UK electricity supply and sufficient to meet the domestic demand of both London & Glasgow. It's also almost half of the government's renewable energy target.

If that's true and accurate, it's good news. On the whole, I support wind power generation, as part of a suite of technologies, emphatically including nuclear. I'm no Green, nor an extremist on either side of an unnecessarily emotive debate.

The main logical fallacy, exhibited by both sides, is absolutism: on one hand, that wind power generation isn't 'the answer' so shouldn't be pursued at all, and on the other, that wind power is always suitable and should be implemented everywhere it's technically viable.

No, wind power isn't the universal solution, and will never replace other generation techniques outright. Yet that's no reason to totally scrap wind farms and invest all resources in nuclear, or gas, or whatever. There needn't be one solution, and a mix of sources contributing to the overall result is entirely sensible.
It's a lot like speed cameras: the cameras alone won't catch uninsured or incompetent drivers (a common criticism), but whatever speed campaigners might claim, cameras aren't supposed to completely solve all aspects of road safety, they're merely one of several techniques that all need to be employed – it's not cameras or greater driver education, it's cameras and education, and policing issues, and other factors. Likewise: wind power generation and nuclear.

Conversely, there are situations where wind farms might be technically appropriate (i.e. windy locations) but socially unacceptable (i.e. especially beautiful locations or close to settlements) – I don't regard wind power generation as the ultimate good, overriding all other considerations.
I don't know the specific details, but it seems from the public enquiry that Whinash, near Kendal, was simply the wrong place for a large wind farm (though not for the reasons expressed by the anti-wind campaigners). However, that doesn't invalidate the very concept of wind farms, merely that specific proposal in that location.

So long as wind power is a rational choice supplementing other sources, I'm all for it. As soon as it becomes a moral or ethical issue, count me out.

Which, in my opinion, is a good thing.

Fifty-four are produced each year. Never 53, nor 55. If a new topic area arises, such as the provision of medical education, one has to be dropped.

Is this a carefully-conceived marketing strategy, the result of exhaustive focus group analysis? Nope. The magazine racks our reps take to HE fairs have 54 slots.

The LA Times, which credits her as having "helped usher in the sexual revolution of the 1960s", provides an interesting article about her life. For example, it's paradoxical that the famous Irving Klaw bondage photos which cemented her fundamental role in fetish imagery are the only part of her modeling career she regrets, yet without them it's doubtful that she'd still be signing autographs at the age of 82.

However, I've had second thoughts, and deleted that sentence. The risk that I might be inadvertently helping animal rights terrorists to target my friend's father (who also happens to be the father-in-law of a work colleague – Lancaster's a bit incestuous like that) is simply too great.

It's a pity I have to do that. ****ing nutters.

At least it's not '... the Student Zone' or something else straining to be 'cool' and youth-orientated. Still, '...the [whatever] experience' is a hideous marketing cliché, aspirational yet empty, and to be avoided.

Why do I think the name was chosen by a management committee (i.e. amateurs dabbling in marketing) rather than the post-holder or real marketers?
They think they're web designers too, of course, and love flashing text. I wish I was joking.

*: And that's quite some branding iron.

It's frequently suggested that the Lords should undergo fundamental reform, becoming an elected upper house, or should be abolished outright. Parkinson explains that this is the 'majoritarian' view of democracy

An alternative approach is 'deliberative' democracy:

This is a little idealistic, of course, and my perception is that the membership of the Lords is skewed towards particular world views.
In principle, I agree with Parkinson, that an unelected upper house has compelling advantages. However, I'm less convinced that the existing House Of Lords is that ideal upper house in practice.

Slightly tangentially, I'm afraid my cynicism pounced on the following statement:

The slightly creepy* Bellum.nu says that "Next to his rifle, knife and boots, the shemagh is probably one of the most useful pieces of equipment a soldier can have." In addition to protecting the head and neck from sun, snow, wind, sand and dust, the shemagh has many uses, including as a towel.

And, as any reader of 'The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy' will know, everything's okay if you have your towel.

*: I'm not entirely comfortable about glorifying the military.

Last September, a Danish newspaper offended Muslims by depicting Muhammad (at all, never mind caricatured as a terrorist) in cartoons. The issue grew and grew, to the point of affecting Danish national interests and even the personal safety of Nordic people visiting Islamic nations. Yesterday, the newspaper publicly apologised.

The BBC reports that a French newspaper republished the offending cartoons today, "to show that 'religious dogma' has no place in a secular society."
I suppose that in law, they have that right, but it's massively and unnecessarily disrespectful to exercise that right. It was a ****ing stupid thing to do, and the newspaper should take full responsibility for any consequences. I don't think it's overdramatic to expect that that might include violent deaths – all so some journalist can feel a frisson of self-righteousness about the freedom of the secular press.

One thing with which I do agree is that these are the actions of an independent press, not the responsibility of the Danish or French governments; I hope the distinction is remembered and the people of Denmark and France aren't blamed for the foolishness of individuals.

[Update 17:22: Bugger. That BBC article fails to mention that more newspapers, in Germany, Italy and Spain have republished the caricatures.]

[Update 02/02/06: The French newspaper, France Soir, subsequently apologised and sacked its managing editor "as a powerful sign of respect for the intimate beliefs and convictions of every individual".
It seems the Spanish and Italian papers only republished smaller versions of the cartoons in the context of reporting the story, which I do think is reasonable and not intended to offend.]

There's the expected disclaimer that facepainting isn't recommended for children under three years of age, but for some reason it's been phrased in reverse:

Needless to say, I'm already registered with the MPS, and have been for years. I'd encourage others to do the same, via the link provided above. The DMA enables one to opt out of fax and phone marketing, too.

Dry stone walls. They are not called 'stone hedges', okay?

I've encountered true 'stone hedges' (cloddiau) in North West Wales, but they're a very different thing: stone-faced earth banks, which become colonised by plants. Long-established vegetated embankments can look like ordinary, plant-only hedges, but one wouldn't want to crash into one!

In Cornwall, all such field boundaries, whether plant-only, stone-only or vegetated stone/soil embankments, are called 'hedges', but that's Cornwall, not Northern England.

Hopefully this'll clear up a few faulty search engine enquiries.

I had said:

However, I still like the very idea of the anorankh – buy yours today!

Right now, though.... A few minutes ago I couldn't avoid noticing a girl wearing tights garishly decorated with molecular structures – circles and lines, anyway – combined with a tartan skirt and a stripey scarf: enough to give a chameleon seizures. I'd love to take a photograph, then present it to her 3-4 years from now.

HMV and its subsidiary Waterstone's have reported the worst peak-season trading figures of any major UK high street retailer so far. HMV lost 9% of its sales in the 10 weeks to 7 January and Waterstone's lost 5%. The chief executive has resigned, citing a 'quantum leap' in online retailing, which he failed to predict. He also admitted underestimating the downloads sector. However, I suspect the latter reason is still missing the point: maybe there has been a partial shift from CDs to mp3s, but even within the CD/DVD sector, HMV simply sets it prices far too high, so is uncompetitive.

Coincidentally, I visited a branch of HMV on Saturday, but wasn't tempted to buy anything. Even the sale prices were little better than Amazon's usual full prices, and the same items as in the HMV sale are also in Amazon's, considerably cheaper again.
I was in Manchester anyway, but ordinarily it'd be reasonable to consider the transport cost of even getting to a high street store, compared to Amazon's free delivery to my doorstep.

See my earlier posting for my proposed solution. In summary: drop all prices, not in a one-off sale but as a permanent price realignment. Compete or close.

The internet "... is faster, delivers instant depth and unrivalled interactivity". Additionally, and increasingly, the video content used by TV is simultaneously available to web editors. The only significant difference is presentational: a presenter sitting in a TV studio, speaking to a passive audience, and it seems the audience isn't listening. Conversely, web-based reporting can link through to supplementary material in a way even 'interactive' TV can't.

It's an interesting idea, though probably a little alarmist, but isn't to suggest that TV news itself is dead. Viewers still seem to value journalists' ability to analyse and contextualise current events rather than just report fragments of breaking news, and interviews with people of influence rather than merely uninformed eyewitnesses. Traditional news provision still has a role in these functions, though personally I think web-based news covers them too.

I scan the headlines at the BBC and Guardian websites, and read a few reports that catch my attention (though never editorials – I like the Guardian's reporting, but don't share its politics), but rarely watch TV news bulletins. However, I do acknowledge that TV has an advantage the web can't match: identifying unknown unknowns. Just occasionally, I watch Channel 4 News or Newsnight (very rarely the BBC1 News at Ten O'Clock and never ITV's News – that one's so dumbed-down it's offensive) and learn something new about a topic I wouldn't ordinarily have considered. One can't afford to get too insular, but user-led news provision on the web carries that risk.

Contrary to the government's 'bottom-up' emphasis on policing an underclass, Orr sees a 'top-down' problem of the governing middle-class thinking they're somehow above social obligation. Those who have influence exploit it for personal benefit and to jump queues.

There was a similar example in The Register last month: Bill Robinson bullied customer service reps ('troglodytes', in his words) until he'd jumped the 5-week queue to have Sky TV installed, then blamed Sky for his failure to meet the technical requirements (no phone line). He was rightly flamed to oblivion on the letters page the following week, primarily for his disregard for the queuing system.

Deborah Orr comes to much the same conclusion:

I don't believe so – I'm an individualist, but that doesn't mean I regard myself as 'special' or better than anyone else. I joke with H about 'the proles', but that is just a running joke (well, mainly...). I'm not reticent about asserting my right to space on the roads, etc., but I'm asserting equality, not superiority. I don't queue jump.

One of those firms is a leading UK retailer of pants. Which?

I don't doubt that a proportion of these projects are to modernise and improve the pre-invasion infrastructure, and all credit to the USA for offering genuine assistance in re-establishing Iraq as a viable independent (well, sort-of) nation.
However, let's face it: a substantial amount of work is to repair damage caused by US armed forces – the US government is morally obliged to contribute to those costs.

There's another aspect: if the Bush administration* no longer feels able to pay for reconstruction, does that mean that US firms will cease to receive preferential access to engineering and resourcing contracts (c.f. Halliburton), allowing some of the profits to stay in Iraq? Yeah; right.

*: as opposed to the other branches of the US government, and indeed the USA itself – please don't misinterpret this entry as lazy anti-Americanism.

Morecambe's multiplex, the Apollo, has four screens, whilst the very traditional Regal in Lancaster has two and The Dukes has one. However, whilst The Dukes' is apparently the largest screen north of Manchester and the Regal's are of the standard size, the Apollo's are drastically smaller; from the usual viewing distance each is no more impressive than a large TV. The seats are uncomfortable and packed too close together, and the limited floor space is always sticky, presumably due to spilled popcorn and drinks. Even if they're not carelessly throwing refreshments around, multiplex audiences annoyingly rustle bags of sweets throughout films (a general question: silent packaging must exist – why don't cinemas use it?). I don't especially blame the people themselves, as their behaviour is a product of the environment. Stuffing oneself with empty calories is simply the done thing and I suspect that for some people popcorn is as integral to the cinema experience as whatever film happens to be showing.
In short, I prefer to wait for films to reach The Dukes (big screen, better seats, no food/soft drinks permitted), the Regal (reasonable screens, acceptable seats, minimal junk food-related disturbance) or failing that, to be released on DVD. Watching a film in a multiplex is very much the last resort.

Or so I thought.

It seems embarrassingly obvious now, but a multiplex in a dump like Morecambe is hardly a fair representation of the best that can be achieved, or even the baseline standard, back in civilisation. Last night, I saw 'The Chronicles Of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe' at a real multiplex, in the Cheshire Oaks retail park, Ellesmere Port. It couldn't have been more different. There were eight cinemas, and perhaps we were in the largest (I doubt it), but the screen was full-sized, the seats were comfortable and well-spaced, and even sat slightly off to one side I experienced true surround sound (I don't know whether I ever have before). There was still a bit of audience rustling (heh), but somehow it wasn't too obtrusive.
The sole negative point was that admission cost almost double what I'd usually pay in Lancaster, though the experience wasn't doubly enjoyable i.e. I still prefer to see a film in the relatively austere Dukes for £3.50 than in the sumptuous Cheshire Oaks Vue for £6.45.

Whatever; I'm pleased to retract one of my prejudices!

A certain budget airline doesn't routinely operate seat allocation, but it is possible to book specific seats in advance (to guarantee a family will sit together, or similar). However, that costs £5 per person. £5!? I could understand a nominal admin fee (for, what, putting 'reserved' signs on the appropriate seats?) but when the cost of the flight itself, including taxes, is only £17, £5 seems punitive, even exploitative. Maybe that's the intention – deliberate discouragement.

Thing is, they'll carry bikes, for a surcharge of... £5.

11:30am Coffee
12 noon Shoulder dislocation
13:00 Lunch
14:00 Muscle patterning
14:30 Examination of the shoulder
15:30 Tea
16:00 Shoulder ultrasound

After which I presume they all put their shoulders back in their sockets and head home....

The height of the sun is obviously rather important (at 54°N, five days from the winter Solstice, it's low in the sky even at midday), but there seems more to the quality of the light than that.
Could it be that in summer, atmospheric haze seems to diffuse the light and soften shadows, whereas the same haze in December merely blocks the weaker light?
Might the fact that solar radiation passes obliquely though more of the atmosphere than in summer affect the amount and spectral qualities of light reaching the ground?

The very ubiquity of the species might be skewing my perception, but I couldn't even conceive of a hedgehog being a caged house pet.

That said, I can't resist quoting from a submission to the University website's 'Feedback' form. The visitor, apparently an existing student at 'Marchester University', found the site useful because "it creates a room for briliant students, it's a source of bright future [and] it educating the young one's".

Tollis' son was killed by a group of people who characterised themselves as satanists, and who also liked heavy metal music. Two separate facts. Fred West was a serial killer, and a builder. Should the building trade be banned? If he happened to have been a major fan of traditional English folk music (which can be stereotyped as tending to be about sex and death, often violent), should folk albums be withdrawn?

Varieties of metal may have a theatrical image, but there is absolutely no causal connection between the music and the murders. Haven't we been through this too many times before, with backwards-masked messages and the like?

Seems not. BBC2 is devoting an hour of spurious credibility to this sensationalist rubbish this evening.

Anti-malaria medications based on compounds from the Chinese plant Artemesinin are the only cheap medicines to which the most deadly malaria parasite has not developed resistance. Fake medicines containing only enough of the active ingredient to fool basic verification tests provide insufficient doses to kill the malaria parasite, but enough for it to develop resistance to the medication itself – reverse inoculation, in effect.

How could people even consider doing this? Can there be a fundamental lack of understanding of the consequences? To me, this total disregard for literally millions of lives is utterly inconceivable. It's so despicable as to be depressing.

I can't think of a way to prevent it. Enforcement rarely works: consider the world trade in recreational drugs. One solution would be for the pharmaceutical companies to drop the price of the real medication to a level at which counterfeiting simply isn't profitable, but that's hardly in the interests of the companies.

This could be the setting and backstory of any cyberpunk novel, socio-technological divide having been triggered by a pandemic ('post-apocalyptic' is more subtle in the post-Cold War era!), but it's real, and very, very serious. As Dr Facundo Fernandez of the Georgia Institute of Technology, who discovered the new counterfeiting technique two months ago, said: "This is no different from plain murder."

However, there's been a bit of a backlash in Berkshire: residents of a private road (which itself says something) are trying to pay a neighbour not to mount a display. They have offered to donate more than the £5,000 raised for charity last year if there are no lights this year.

Apparently it's not just 'snobbery' (not my choice of word – I'm definitely with the neighbours on this one). Police say that more than 1,000 cars drove past each night for six weeks last year, and 40 crimes, including vandalism, theft, violence and other forms of anti-social behaviour, have been directly attributed to the presence of the lights.

* That's 'legitimate', or 'reasonable' levels of free speech (however that's defined). As I said almost two years ago, I don't even vaguely support the principle of 'totally free speech at any price'. To me, the responsibility to self-censor is more important, and in extreme cases, the state has to have some limited regulatory role. This defines one of my boundaries between primacy of the individual (normally my priority) and functioning of the state (for the collective benefit of individuals).

'Seasonal' is fine – no-one would complain about a robin, reindeer or snowy fir tree, but I do find selective, overt religious references objectionable. Did I miss the stamps commemorating Diwali, Samhain or Eid ul-Fitr? Somehow, I doubt it.

When representing the state: all, or none. Preferably none.

Are there really more white vans than other colours, or is it just that having made the association, one is more likely to notice white vans?

If there is a disproportionate number of white vans, why? Do firms prefer white company vehicles? Why? Does it follow that more white vans are made than other colours?

The BBC says it's because:

From the Cambridge Advanced Learner's Dictionary:

Okay; try this, summarising an earlier entry*:

• I've yet to discover an alcoholic drink I actually like, that I'd choose to drink, simply for its flavour.
• I dislike being drunk.
• I resent wasting time on hangovers and basic post-alcohol lethargy.

Consequently, I'm still more than happy to join friends for a drink, but it's solely for the social aspect (that makes it sound like a hardship!), I probably won't enjoy the drink itself quite as much as, say, a Coke or a good cup of tea, and one drink is more than enough – if I consume more than three pints, something's gone wrong....

*: Hey! That's precisely a year ago!

*: Some might find that patently obvious, but others might be surprised - hey, I did say I'm a compartmentalised person!