Down Under and Beyond

Breaktime

2008-06-25T21:32:00.006Z

An unrelated photo of Castle Howard in North Yorkshire

Thought I'd better put up a short update post - I've not vanished from the face of the Earth, nor have the makers of Lynx deodorant nobbled me. I'm taking a break from blogging, I kind of ran out of things to write - it's almost 4yrs since I started DUaB after all. Also the BeerCast is taking up more of my time now we're getting somewhere with it. But I will return here soon, certainly before the fourth birthday in September. Anyhow, hope everyone's enjoying the summer, and I'll be back up spouting nonsense in a bit...

R

*Update*
Alright, I didn't actually make that fourth birthday deadline, as you may have noticed. In fact, I decided to stop DUaB and concentrate on other things. Thanks for reading, I'll keep the site up so the posts remain, as for now you can find me over at The BeerCast writing about beer and drinking. Thanks to everyone who commented here at DUaB, all all the best.

R 14/12/2009

Two into one doesn't go

2008-04-07T22:10:00.001Z

There's a faintly disturbing advert on at the moment for Lynx deodorant, which features a streetwise chap like myself walking through a bland-looking city on a sunny day (clearly not Edinburgh - we had sun, rain and snow today). Trouble is, all around him women are charging full tilt into each other and erupting in powdery explosions like when the aliens zapped people in the Tom Cruise War of the Worlds remake. I'm not even sure if he notices, as he's intent on getting where he's needed - but each time two women explode into each other, a single more beautiful one emerges (i.e. one with more makeup and shorter dress). It's all because he sprayed the magic Lynx beforehand - or rather two of them.

This genius piece of marketing has it that we now have to buy two different flavours of their product in order to mix them to make a third 'fragrance'. Lynx 3 - One Guy, Two Cans, Loads of Women (apparently) is the new campaign from the Unilever concern, and of course has it's own predictably Flash-heavy website. The 'Bom chika wah wah' series have had their day, I guess because you only needed one can to achieve that effect, not two. The website has a series of Cocktail-esque barman tricks using cans of deodorant (second unintentional Tom Cruise reference), and Peter Crouch's squeeze, Abigail Clancy.*

But would you need to buy two of them to make a third fragrance? And would you want to? And have you any idea what I'm talking about? (Lynx is only so-called in the UK, Australia and New Zealand - everywere else it's Axe). I bet you didn't know it was launched as a male version of Impulse in 1983, and couldn't be called Axe in the UK because of copyright infringement. I'm not sure how it's supposed to work - do you squirt one under each armpit? Or just blast a double cloud and run through it? The website video has Abigail almost falling over with ecstasy as the Lynx man squirts each wrist and rubs them together, like he's testing stuff out in Boots. If you rubbed your underarms together you'd turn yourself inside out.

Why stop at Lynx? You might as well mix things up to achieve your own unique fragrance. Unilever also manufacture Domestos and Cif (which I think used to be Jif) - you could make a roll-on out of that. Or Chicken Tonight and Marmite? That would have the women running in the streets, I can tell you. Cup a Soup and I can't believe it's not butter? That would have a great name, if nothing else. Lynx can come up with some wacky flavours themselves, they released a chocolate flavoured deodorant last year - the advert for which features the tremendous 'Sweet Touch of Love' by Alain Toussaint.

I wonder what Crouchy uses?

* Britain's Sexiest Scouser, according to FHM (Abigail Clancy, that is. And yes that's her at the top there)

Hitting the Road with Style

2008-04-01T09:43:00.002Z

Regular DUaB readers will know about my fondness for travel - after all it's pretty much why the blog existed in the first place. Things have been slow recently, it's difficult to keep up the naked enthusiasm of four years ago, reading back on those posts. Not that I was naked when I wrote them, of course. Well, apart from one or two. Anyhow, the gaps between posts have been lengthening steadily as the 'other projects' stack up, most pressingly the beer blog over at The BeerCast, which increasingly eats up the hours. Oh, and I go to work as well, of course.

But all that seems to be about to change. One of the reasons for a lack of posts recently is the discussions I've been having with the Caledonian brewery here in Edinburgh about a possible opening. After we tried their Golden Promise ale in our very first podcast for the beer blog, I've been emailing them with how we're getting on - after all they are the only brewery left within the city limits here. They recently got back to me with a seriously exciting proposal.

Caledonian are a brewery with their rich heritage central to their daily working. As a result they take an interest in other brewers and the whole lifestyle of producing foamy ale from grains and water. Clearly the different regions of the world have over the years diverged and produced essentially the same drink under very different conditions, recipes, and ethos's (whatever the plural of ethos is). The really nice people at Caley have seemingly been keeping up with my writing here on DUaB, and on the BeerCast, as they've offered me a job.

Starting in the summer - if I want it - I'll be travelling around, taking in local breweries and exploring the essence of what it means to produce beer in this oh so hectic 24hr everything is now society. From East Anglia to the East Indes, I'll be off tracking down the rarest of beers - and this being me, the rarest of pies and other local delicacies. Moules frites, pie floaters, giant maggot kebabs, I'll be there front and centre. Head Global Beer Reporter.

So check back in a couple of days as I get details in about the specifics of the first destination. I've been told to expect arduous travel, dangerous animals, and tall tales. And so should you, dear readers. Patagonian pilseners, Swedish stouts, and Liberian lagers ahoy, plus the odd spider or too, no doubt. We're on the road again. Ahoy! Who's with me?

Installations in London

2008-03-19T21:08:00.005Z

London is always full of interesting things to look at, and these days people flock from miles around to stare at a hole in the ground. The Tate Modern prides itself on the large installations that guest in the main turbine hall, and the current artwork there is Doris Salcedo's Shibboleth. It 'opened' in October, but I hadn't been able to get down to take it in until now.

It starts off as nothing more than a hairline graze in the floor, then follows the sloping entranceway down, widening and deepening as it does so. Salcedo says the work symbolises racial divisions, and the gap between white Europeans and the rest of the world's population. I can see how it can reflect division - but at the same time was having to constantly fight the urge to think "But it's just a crack in the floor."

It's very well made though, I guess they must have fitted a false floor or something. I considered Googling it to find out, but that would maybe take some of the mystery away. Having said that, I've managed to see almost all of the turbine hall installations, and Shibboleth is nowhere near as good as the slides last time, or my personal favourite, Olafur Eliasson's Weather Project.

After that, a quick jaunt west along the Thames to Trafalgar Square for the next rotating public artwork series - the fourth plinth statue. Built in 1841, the plinth was supposed to house a noble hero in the usual manner (the other three hold up George IV and two colonial era Generals - Henry Havelock and Sir Charles Napier). But the fourth statue was never built, so the plinth sat empty for 158yrs. Eventually a contemporary artwork was erected there for 12 months - the latest being Thomas Schütte’s sculpture Model for a Hotel 2007.

An architectural model of a 21 storey building, it was also titled 'Hotel for Birds', aping the famous Trafalgar Square pigeons. But as you can see, they don't seem to like the beautifully coloured perspex - preferring to roost in nearby trees. Proposals for the next artwork to go up are here, and I particularly like Anthony Gormley's idea of plonking real people on top, to just stand or sit there, being stared at.

But it wasn't all art and trying to find hidden meanings in artist's perceptions. I also went to the London beer festival (research for the other blog, of course).

And ended up in a deserted tube station, which usually happens to me at some point. Bounds Green, in this case, on the Picadilly Line. Thankfully that next train did indeed arrive 2mins later...

Cheating with Delia

2008-03-10T22:38:00.004Z

The nation's favourite and most-revered TV Chef is back - Delia Smith has a new series in the ex-MasterChef slot at 8:30 on BBC2. 'The Blessed Delia' as I believe people call her, has been cooking on British telly for almost forty years, so quite frankly it's amazing she's got any ideas left. But it seems she does, as her new series is called How to Cheat, and first up it's how to make easy recipes from everyday foodstuffs. Presumably next week she'll move onto other things like poker. Anyhow, I've never seen a Delia programme before. So how was it?

1 min - It begins with her East Anglian mansion and an easy-listening soundtrack from a Yate's Winelodge. A cat wanders around. Delia speaks - "In my 39 years of writing recipes, I have tried to gauge where people are and help them with their everyday cooking. But there are many people who are too afraid to cook, so we need to evolve a new way of cooking, because meals still need to go on the table..."

3 min - "We're going to do a smoked salmon and quail egg pie." Um, fair enough. Quail eggs? But she's off, opening packets and cooking from tins. Hey, I cook from tins! She's like me! But what brands is she using? Some very frustratingly quick edits used as she teases the packets in front of the camera for a microsecond.

4 min - A look inside Delia's concrete-lined ramekin storage facility.

5 min - Back to the pie, and apparently quail eggs come in packs with celery salt for dips. Something else the nation will sell out of tomorrow. The next addition to the pie is frozen mashed potato. Now I've been a student, but I've never heard of frozen mash - the powdered stuff with the robots was as far as I got. But the frozen mash goes on the pie, looking worryingly like urinal cakes.

6 min - I love the way she's talking about these newfangled foodstuffs, it's like she's only been told they exist half an hour before they started shooting. You can imagine her in a corner talking to a clipboard-toting researcher - "Wait a minute. Run that past me again. Beans. And Sausages. In a Tin. Together? Why the fu..."

7 min - Mashed potato in a chocolate cake. What? Maybe she has run out of ideas after all. Nigel Slater appears, eating said cake, and he looks amazed when she tells him it's got mash in it. "There's something spicy in here too?", he says, frantically changing the subject. "It's five spice" Delia replies. "Ahhh, five spice!" says Nigel, probably thinking it was Harpic, or something.

9 min - The first mention of Norwich City. I was wondering when that was going to happen. Delia is one of the club directors at the perennial Championship makeweights. She wanders around the dressing room, checking on the players as if they are free range chickens. "They do look happy."

14 min - Delia's How To Wedge. Blimey. Apparently you heat them under the grill and throw plastic eggs on. It looks like the salads they serve at Pizza Hutt.

15 min - We're blending sauces now, to go over the wedges. I guess she must have drawn the line at Doritos Dippers. I wonder if Delia's mini blender will be on the shelves soon, like Jamie Oliver's 'Flavour Shaker', which has amateur chefs up and down the country standing in their kitchens making extravagant wanking motions.

17 min - A mysterious man appears. It's Mr Michael Delia. There's a touching interlude about how they met (apparently Delia was a bit of a looker). Nigel Slater seems to have disappeared.

22 min - She's got plenty of recipe books, that's for sure. "I like simple food - I've always hated theatre on a plate". She heads downstairs to make some rustic bread, which looks raw when she cuts it open. A quick flash of Nigel Slater jumping the fence in the background.

26 min - More Norwich City. They talk about the best Delia clip ever - where she charged onto the pitch at half time to shout LET'S BE 'AVIN YOU!!! encouragement at the home support, having had a few too many brandies beforehand. Michael Delia says "You can't visit an away football ground without someone coming up to you and shouting 'let's be havin' you!'" "Yeah," says Delia snippily, "So why do it again?". I swear - the very next shot is her having a drink.

27 min - Norwich beat Southampton 2-1. I wonder how many retakes that took? Meanwhile, back at her house, the cat's still looking for a way out.

28 min - 'Lazy soup'. "What you have to do, is simply open up the tin, thus, using a tin opener - if you have one, and gently stir. Now what you mustn't do, is allow it to boil, as this will impair the flavour. It says on the label, here."

29 min - More urinal cake potatoes.

29 min - Nigel Slater reappears, whispering to the crew about Delia, with a worried expression on his face. "She's taking shortcuts, but it's fine. We're still cooking. There's nothing wrong with that, these days. Can you take me with you?"

30 min - The cat seems to be dead.

30 min - Hands up, the lazy soup looks rather nice. I might even try and put one together. The episode ends with the crew tasting the soup. The soundman gets to try it. "Ooh, I wanna hear you slurp", says Delia. Or you'll end up like Nigel.

Next week, not How To Cheat at Taxes, or How to Cheat a Polygraph Test - but recipes involving tins and jars. Delia certainly moves with the times, that's for sure. Will spaghetti hoops make an appearance? What will be the mystery ingredient in the cake she makes for Nigel? Corned beef? I'm not sure I'll tune in to find out. For me, as soon as Emily from MasterChef gets her own series, the better. And as if my evening's disbelief hadn't been suspended enough, BBC2 then show a trailer for an Easter Passion Play which seems to have James Nesbitt as Pontius Pilot. Eh?

Delia Smith Online
Let's be 'aving you - Delia's drunken outburst at Norwich City (57,000 views on YouTube)
SoccerAM's fantastic Delia sketch

Welcome...come on in

2008-02-26T19:23:00.000Z

In the news this week, the UK Government are reported to be considering a tougher series of tests for would-be immigrants entering the country. Currently the longer you live here the better your chances, but it seems some folks might be told to pay into a 'transitional impact fund' which would be used to boost local services. I only hope that once they get in they get to complain about said local services, if they turn out to be crappy. If they can prove they are 'active' citizens (for example, if they do charity work), then they even get fast-tracked to Blighty. None of this applies to EU immigrants, strangely, who can just wave fistfuls of Euros at Heathrow and wander on in.

Anyway, a few months ago something similar was presented in Australia, and I had a go at taking the test to see if I'd qualify. I passed by a single point, which shows how the memories of down under have faded over the years. But what about a British test? What skills should potential immigrants bring into the mix? Rather than a question and answer session about who won what battle or how long Corrie has been on telly, maybe it should be a series of ways to act truly British. That way, newcomers could fit in right away, and not feel left out. Sure, drinking tea and being terrible at sport are easy ones, so you might only get a point or two for those - but for immigrants to really prosper here, they could do no worse than demonstrate some (or all) of the following...

Being overly protective of personal space
Personal space is the most precious of British commodities - or at least you'd think it was, given how we react when someone stands a bit too close in a lift. The test for this would be at a dentist's waiting room - watching the would-be immigrants as they carefully pick the seat the farthest away from everyone else, confiding in that peculiarly British invisible buffer.

Worrying about whether they can shout at someone else's kids
But they just dropped a crisp packet on the street! The bin's only over there, it's not like they couldn't have walked five yards. Is their Mum inside the Newsagents? Will they come out just in time to see me haranguing their children? Now they dropped some gum as well, it gets everywhere, especially if you tread it in. I should probably say somet...no, I might get happy-slapped.

Parking as exactly as possible
Not only do we have imaginary set-squares built in, so every kerb is always parallel, we love a chance to criticise others. The prospective immigrants would be judged on how they comment on a random street of parked cars. Too close to the kerb? Back wheels over a yellow line - ooohh, that'll be sixty quid, them parking fellas are right strict about it. Trust me, that car'll be gone in a few hours, off to the pound. And did I tell you about the time I was in France? (bonus points)

Eating food at inappropriate times
In Italy, gelato is eaten on whistful summer evenings. In the USA, big fat ice creams are eaten at the State Fair. In the UK, we eat Cornettos in November on gale-blasted beaches. And then straight afterwards, a bag of chips and vinegar. Mmmm.

Judging people by what papers they read
I told you he was a Telegraph reader, didn't I? Well, let me tell you this - next door - yep, them with the ostentatious conifer tubs - they take the Mail...and the Mail on Sunday. They don't get it just for the free DVD each week, I can tell you. And them at number 30? Guardian. I know. I know. Saw them leaving this morning, off to a farmers market no doubt. And at number 34 - well, the Colonel takes the Times - he's not a real Colonel, by the way - and his wife gets the Express. Yes, I know. And they have 'visitors' every Saturday night, curtains get drawn straight away. Our Dennis is in the Neighbourhood Watch, and he reckons...

Being suspicious of people who try to sell you things
This is the ultimate - every Brit is always on their guard for unwanted financial attention. Be it a crafty timeshare salesman in Magaluf, or the car credit ads on the telly - only a bona fide British person wouldn't fail to be deeply mistrustful of anyone who's job it is to sell you something complicated. The worst thing any of these employees can do is utter something along the lines of "Well, in the long run, it can save you money". This is the key part of the immigration test - any applicant who immediately turns down whatever they are offering on the basis that it's probably to good to be true, is welcome in our country.

British citizenship tests planned [BBC]

Popular Pics 2

2008-02-10T21:02:00.000Z

I wasn't kidding when I thought it might take a while to narrow down all the photos - seems like I've taken hundreds over the years. Last time I had a list of the most popular photos of mine on Flickr that other people have been looking at or searching for, but this time they are my favourites. I couldn't decide on a final eight, so you've got nine instead. First up, a chance photo of the sunset taken on board a flight from London to Edinburgh - I love the colours either side of the wing.

Next, the aptly-named Shell Beach in Tarbert, Argyll. Loch Fyne is world-famous for seafood, and the mountains of washed-up scallop shells make it look almost Mediterranean, especially in the distinctly un-Scottish sunshine. This is one of those times where you fluke something with a picture - I put the camera on my foot to get some of the shells in the foreground, and amazingly got a yacht right dead centre of the photo - I didn't even notice it was there until I checked the camera.

A long distance from Argyll - this is also called Shell Beach, and is near Monkey Mia in Western Australia. Also made from countless scallops, it stretched off in a long curve for many miles. The bus group I was with stopped for a swim because of the 35°C heat, but this proved difficult as the bay was so shallow you could walk out for twenty minutes and not get the bottom of your shorts wet. I went to take a picture of a few of the guys doing just that, when a girl who's name I can't remember ran out to snap the rest of us sitting in a line on the beach. I like this picture so much, it's the background wallpaper on my laptop - as you can see on the right of the blog there.

I don't think I'm a good photographer by any means, most of them seem to come out through sheer luck - but this was one I worked on. The only room in the Louvre with British paintings (these are by Edinburgh's own Sir Henry Raeburn), people tend to push through quickly on the way to somewhere else. I sat down on one of the benches and tried to get people in between the paintings - I think I took three or four before this woman walked past at a fair old lick, gallery map in hand, and I got her lined up just right.

The wobbly Millenium Bridge in London is one of the most photographed sites in the city - it connects the Tate Modern to St Paul's Cathedral at Blackfriars. When it was opened, 80,000 people went over it on the first day - but quickly problems with the mountings caused it to wobble, and it was closed. After an expensive refit, it re-opened and all was well. I like the line of clouds building over the dome of the Cathedral.

Scotland has some incredible scenery, and none more than the islands off the west coast. Lismore looks as flat as a piece of paper, but has a few hundred inhabitants and an important amount of wildlife. The ubiquitous blue and white CalMac ferries chug around the islands connecting everything, and I took this picture from the top of Duart Castle on the Isle of Mull, as the ferry to one of the outlying islands steams past on the way back to Oban.

I think if I had to pick a favourite of these eight, it would be this one. The monuments of Washington DC are better seen at night, as the crowds are less, and they look amazing illuminated by giant spotlights - especially the Lincoln Memorial. Made out of striking white marble, I wandered up and took a photo of Abe just as a girl decided to take a picture of herself with her mobile phone. I could get all pretentious about the light from the statue and the light from the phone - and the fact that Abe seems to be looking right at her, but I'll try not to... ;)

I'm seriously colourblind, but even I can see the greens and reds going on here. The Ganmangafuchi Abyss in Nikko features dozens of Jizou statues, to the spirits of departed children. Clothed in disctinctive red bibs and covered in moss, it's said to be impossible to count them as they mischievously move around when your back's turned, to make sure you get it wrong. They are also only found on one side of the river, as the Japanese believe they are the guardians between one life and the next.

Come on, you didn't think I could do this and not put at least one photo of Sydney in? The best view from a train station in the world - Circular Quay is on the city circle route of several CityRail lines, and is a stone's throw from the harbour. Everyone takes the bridge photo from the outside platform (or from the Cahill Expressway above, which used to be part of my walk home from work) - but if you go down one escalator and up another you can get all arty-farty and frame it like this.

Anyhow, so these are my favourite photos from my years of crazing about, excuse the pretentious post - next time I'll be back talking about pies or somethi...oohh...the top eight pies from my travels...

Popular Pics 1

2008-01-28T20:48:00.000Z

102 views (Link)

Flickr recently introduced all kinds of tekky-looking facts about the photos you upload, so now you can tell precisely how many people look at your photos and where they come from. I always try and add to DUaB what I think are my favourites - but now I also know what everyone else's favourites are. Here are my eight most popular pics, in reverse order - starting with this photo of pea-sized baby Jellyfish I took in Vancouver aquarium.

111 views (Link)

Next most popular, this rather dull photo of Heathrow's Terminal One, taken just after I took off on the short flight to Edinburgh. Most views of Heathrow are like this - grey and chock full of planes.

131 views (Link)

A bit more exotic, the Franz Josef Glacier in New Zealand is pretty amazing. I'd think most people who have done the circular trip round the South Island will have taken this photo. We stood here and our guide asked us to guess how long it would take to reach the ice. I reckoned about 20 minutes - when he said it would be over an hour nobody believed him. Of course, he was right - the scale of this thing is amazing.

132 views (Link)

Another photo from Vancouver, this popular photo is my mate Andy having just jumped into English Bay on January the 1st 2007. The annual Polar Bear Swim is one of the highlights of the NYE period in Vancouver, and he just couldn't resist joining in. Two things about this pic - 1) No he isn't naked, and 2) No I didn't join him.

159 views (Link)

Something of theme starts to develop now - this is one I took in August 2006 on a trip to Washington DC, during which I went to a preseason practice game of the Washington Redskins. This was one of the many action shots I attempted, with Redskins safety Shaun Taylor (nearest the number 40) sprinting in to make a tackle. Taylor - who had picked up a knee injury - was shot dead a couple of months ago in his Miami home, surprising burglars who thought he'd be away during the season.

227 views (Link)

One of my favourites, the Dotonbori area of Osaka apparently was the basis for Ridley Scott's Asian District in BladeRunner (although I've heard that claim about other places too). Anyway, the Ebisubashi bridge canal is amazing, this picture really struggles to do it justice.

282 views (Link)

My second highest-visited Flickr photo is also an NFL-related one, of the inside of FedEx Field, taken during the same Redskins visit. I'm not a fan of theirs, but had the chance to go to the 'family fun day' preseason matchup with the Baltimore Ravens. It was well over 100 degrees, and the stadium PA played incessant deafening R&B music. All very different from a rainy January at the Rovers.

425 views (Link)

But the undisputed champion in the most-viewed stakes is this rather touching photo of me looking rather cheesy posing with a couple of Redskins Cheerleaders. Over 400 views, it's amazing - if I'd known I'd have pulled a less gimpish expression, but there you go. The Cheerleaders didn't mind, they liked my accent - and obviously their profession has many fans amongst the users of Flickr...

Next up, I'll post my version of Popular Pics - the 8 photos I think should be viewed the most. It might take a while to narrow it down, there are hundreds...

The worst day of the year?

2008-01-21T22:32:00.000Z

I tend to avoid anything that starts with the words IT'S OFFICIAL!!!, but apparently today was officially the worst day of the year. Part of me thinks that seeing as we're only a couple of weeks in, how can THEY be sure - but another part of me thinks it's probably a good idea to get the worst day out of the way, and we can get down to fifty weeks of partying and cocktails on the verandah at sunset. But wait - it seems there's something behind this bold claim. Today (Monday the 21st of January) is the nastiest on the calendar for a series of compounding reasons. "Cold weather, dark, short days, credit card bills, faded Christmas memories and failed New Year's resolutions can all conspire to get us down as January rolls on", according to the massed ranks of boffins at AOL's Lifestyle faculty (I kid you not).

Well, firstly, today was unfeasably terrible weather-wise in Edinburgh, with typically Scottish heavy driving rain all day. I tend to judge wet days on how much of my jeans get soaking from the ground up - and we were almost halfway to the knee on the way home tonight. But then you lives in Scotland, you takes your chance. I've just seen the forecast for tomorrow, and it's going to be frosty and bright all day. Take that, AOL! (what is AOL, anyway?). However, I have to give them the dark short days, once you get past the business end of September the sun becomes a distant memory up here. Credit card bills are the next thing on the list - the significance of today being it's scientifically the furthest from the splurges of Christmas before you get the cushioning of the first payday of the year. In my case, my meagre NHS pittance just about covers the bills - and how could I watch tomorrow's positive weather forecast without a sale-purchased High-Def 32 inch Samsung LCD television?? (ahem)

'Faded Christmas memories' are an interesting one. The worst thing about Christmas - Dr Who Special notwithstanding - is when it's all over and you leave your family to head back to work, so for me the worst part of that is the first day back at work, not a date three weeks after. Anyway, it was less than a month ago, you would have needed to polish off a serious amount of Advocaat to have the memories faded already. I have Christmas memories from twenty years ago built up, to fall back on. Those happy days of playing with AT-AT's and TCR racing sets (whisper it, but they were better than Scalextric). The only faded part of Christmas I have is the office party, which given my outstanding dancing, is possibly a good thing. I do remember a large circle with me in the middle, and lots of high-fives with various members of the IT help desk. Hmmm...

Finally, AOL mention failed New Year's resolutions. Well, I've never made one in my life - I always thought they were really pointless, unless you felt you should be considering changing something you really didn't want to change, in which case they are ideal. Make it your resolution, and in a couple of weeks you'll have stopped (or started again), and a few weeks after that nobody will care as the media and television will have moved onto Valentines Day. A perfect escape plan. There's a reason that the most expensive time of the year to join a gym is the first week of January. Unsurprisingly, the AOL article is bordered by all kinds of helpful links to career, dating, holiday websites - your brand new resolution, only a click away. Take it from me, just keep doing what you're doing, it's more fun.

Speaking of fun, I was thinking what I've been doing today - which for me was simply a normal day at work - to make the evil 21/01 pass off a bit better. Firstly, I spent most of the day listening to music - nobody can have a bad day at work if they can listen to their favourite tunes. Checking the news makes it obvious there are plenty of people having genuinely 'worst days' compared to your wet shoes and pointless spreadsheets*. Getting away is a default option for making things better - ironically one that AOL also mention (although they have a massive advert for a holiday company). Think about where you were last year, and where you'll be this year, and how they are going to be different. For example, I took the photo above in Tokyo last October, and all I have to do is look at it to bring back all the memories. The final way I have of getting rid of the blues of Monday the 21st is to take Tuesday the 22nd off, so I can brighten up thinking about my half day under the duvet tomorrow, and the other half in front on the Xbox. Chin up!

* DUaB would like to point out that NHS spreadsheets are not pointless in any way - they are informative, useful, and a key aspect of delivering statistical evaluations of core NHS services.

AOL Lifestyle: Brighten up the worst day of the year

Man's Best Friend?

2008-01-12T19:50:00.000Z

There were many big news stories this week, but one which may have slipped under your radar was yet another example of Government meddling. No, not involving ID cards or nuclear power, but something much bigger. This week the British Government rejected a petition calling for UK pet shops to legally sell elephants to the public. Outrage! The petition was signed by over 650 people, and had been proposed by a 12 year old called Jack Smithies. He argued "...Elephants are creatures that children could learn about better by owning their own and keeping them in easily and cheaply converted sheds."

Picture the scene...you're in your local Pets R Us trying to find something cute and fluffy for little Johnny. Dogs (too messy); Cats (too detached); Parrots (you'll never be able to swear again, the parrot will do that for you)....then at the back of the shop, a large grey object comes into view....Well, maybe not. But elephants as pets have so many advantages. Firstly, they would make unbeatable protectors of your property when you're in Magaluf for two weeks of sun. I'd rather burgle a house with a dozen Alsatians inside than a stomping Jumbo. Secondly, I'm guessing they make great companions, although you'd have to make sure they were house trained pretty quickly.

Taking them for walks would be the best bit, as you could ride them around, so they'd be taking you for a walk. Plus up there you could fix your guttering before Nelly set off for the park. Just watch out for any travelling circuses. Food bills would be a doddle too - especially when compared to the prices they charge for boutique gourmet cat food. Just turn up in the Supermarket at ten to five when they discount all the salad - you could even bring Nelly with you for the exercise. Although, it's tough to parallel park an elephant.

Anyway, all this is speculation, as the Goverment squashed the idea like Nelly playing with next doors annoying terrier. They responded "...The Government agrees that keeping a pet has many benefits, not just for children but people of all ages. However, the Government does not think elephants would make good pets. They are very large animals that are not used to being kept as pets, and have welfare needs that would be impossible to meet in pet shops or people's homes. Elephants can also be dangerous and it would not be safe for people to be able to keep them in their backyard." But Jack had thought of that, hence the proposal for cheaply converted garden sheds. I dunno.

So another of my boyhood dreams dies a death, along with becoming Indiana Jones and going to the planet where Space Raiders come from. Maybe one day I'll own my own elephant - although I could always start with a tapir and work my way up, I guess. Anyhow, pet shops could never sell elephants - where would they keep their mice?

St Abbs New Year

2008-01-06T20:59:00.000Z

This new year was slightly different from last new year, when I was partying in Vancouver. The tiny fishing village of St Abbs is very different from the city of glass, with about fifty scattered houses and no monorail. A group of friends and myself got a cottage here for a few days and headed down the A1 until just before the English Border (it's only a few miles inside Scotland). The place we stayed is in this photo, second left at the top, with the two windows in the roof. St Abbs has a couple of parallel roads up there, one that comes down to the harbour, and that's about it.

Me looking cheesey on St Abbs head, just outside the village. It's named after St Æbbe, the 7th Century daughter of King Æthelfrith of Bernicia, the first King of Northumbria. He came to an unfortunate end in 633, forcing Æbbe to flee to Scotland, where she later converted to Christianity and founded a monastery on this headland. These days, it's more known for sealife, as it was the site of the UK's first voluntary marine reserve. Divers come from all over the country to explore the clear waters and coldwater reefs.

Like many fishing communities, St Abbs is no stranger to tragedy. On October the 14th, 1881, a freak storm savaged the Berwickshire coast while the region's many fishing boats were out at sea. As they were returning to the shore, dozens were wrecked on the rocks within sight of the waiting wives and children, who watched helplessly. 189 men drowned - 129 of them were from the same town of Eyemouth. A board there describes the event, and says it took the village 100yrs to recover the population. This memorial is in St Abbs, commemorating what the locals call 'Black Friday'.

The undulating cliff paths have plenty of trails, and we took a wander up to the lighthouse (which is just out of shot to the left). Eyemouth is in the distance on the far headland.

New Year's Day itself was grey and cold, with the wind whipping off the North Sea churning up the waves. This is the opposite view from the first photo, looking down rather than up. The water was occasionally propelled over the harbour wall, and you can really see the difference between the calm waters inside the dock and the choppy sea outside. We watched a small boat of divers rolling about on the exit of the harbour, and the building on the right is the Lifeboat station.

Berwick (pronounced 'Berrick'), the northernmost town in England, is only two miles from Scotland. This is Spittal Beach on a perishing January afternoon, with the town walls in the distance. There's all kinds of history here, due to a location that saw the town captured and re-captured by the English and Scots over many years. It has changed hands at least thirteen times, and was a key garrison, port and even an important mint. In the late 16th Century, the English constructed mammoth defensive walls - at a cost of over £125,000 - and the town never changed hands again.

The wind was ripping along the Northumbrian coast, and after eating in the town we decided to go for a quick stroll on the beach. As it turned out, it was a very quick stroll as the temperature was freezing. Everyone who has been to the seaside in the UK in January will recognise this picture...

Time for a break

2007-12-29T10:39:00.000Z

Not quite time to get back to work, thankfully, as after the Christmas break it's Hogmanay time here in Scotland. This time last year I was flying off to Vancouver for a major NYE expedition, but this time it's a bit closer to home. St Abbs is a tiny fishing village on the east coast of Scotland, almost within a stone's throw of the English border at Berwick. I'll be there for the next few days seeing if there's anything to do,, (i.e. sheltering from the rain). Happy New Year to all DUaB readers, and I'll be blogging about the trip when I get back. Cheers!

Albums of the year 2007

2007-12-13T17:17:00.000Z

Reading through papers and magazines at this time, they are usually full of 'Best of' lists for the previous twelve months. DUaB regulars know there's hardly an idea out there I haven't borrowed for my own purposes, so it's time for my top 10 albums of the year. Last December I wrote down the pick of 2006 on my MySpace site, but as the kids have all moved on from Tom's networking site, I thought I'd put the list up here instead. Special bonus, underneath is the list from last year, updated with a couple that slipped the net in '06. Be sure and let me know if you agree/disagree/don't recognise any of them...

2007 Albums of the Year

Apples in Stereo - New Magnetic Wonder
Dan Deacon - Spiderman of the Rings
Immaculate Machine - Fables
Justice - Cross
Laakso - Mother am I Good Looking?
Lucy and the Popsonics - A Fabula (ou a Farsa?) De Dois Eletropandas
The National - Boxer
The Noisettes - What's the Time Mr Wolf?
Simian Mobile Disco - Attack Decay Sustain Release
Stars - In Our Bedroom After the War

2006 Albums of the Year

Asobi Seksu - Citrus
CSS - CSS Suxx
The Capes - Hello
Delays - You See Colours
The Format - Dog Problems
The Golden Dogs - Big Eye Little Eye
The Hold Steady - Boys and Girls in America
Numero - L'ideologie des stars
Silversun Pickups - Carnavas
The Sounds - Dying To Say This To You

What's in a game?

2007-12-06T20:41:00.000Z

Pool - a sport...

I was reading the other week about the world of pigeon racing, which has been dealt a cruel blow by the UK taxman. Apparently under their new list of 'what constitutes a sport', there's no place for drinking tea and staring forlornly at the sky wondering where t'bloody birds have gone. Pigeon racing is no longer a sport. Therefore, it doesn't qualify for exemption from business rates, and so the costs of keeping racing birds will soon be increasing. You see, sporting clubs don't have to pay that extra tax, so organisations like football teams, motorsports facilities, and the modern pentathlon association of Great Britain get off the hook. But what else escapes?

The body with the job of policing this are the HM Inspector of Revenue and Customs (HMRC), and they refer to Sport England's List of what exactly is a sport (and let's face it, they should know). Those not on the list are I suppose deemed merely 'games', and relegated to another list somewhere else. There's no such organistaion as 'Games England'. There's long been discussion on what constitutes a sport - I wrote a post on darts almost two years ago, expressing my admiration for the 'sportsmen' who compete under the glare of the lights at the Lakeside. Thankfully for them, (and me) darts is in Sport England's list, so darts teams up and down the country will still have their training lagers subsidised.

The fans of pigeon racing (and I don't mean peregrine falcons), are predictably - and understandably up in arms as things like baton twirling, skipping, and tug of war, are all listed as sports. I'm not wishing to belittle any of them - there's far more effort and skill involved in twirling a baton than opening a pigeon loft - but are they really sports? Is Unihoc? What the hell is Unihoc? Well, good question. It's basically indoor hockey played with plastic sticks, as a safe alternative to every other team sport. Also known as 'floorball', it originated in Sweden as is fairly popular in Scandinavia. What about Sombo? Well, that's a type of judo, and thanks to Wikipedia I now know is usually known as Sambo (short for SAMozashchita Bez Oruzhiya), and is Russian.

I've never really thought of Angling as a sport - because it's essentially humans catching food. So then if anglers are sportsmen, so are people who forage for fruit on the verges of dual carriageways. What about sheepdog trials? That's not on the list. I know competitve angling has a time limit and at the end the person with the weightiest bucket wins - therefore it's a sport - but you could do the same thing with mushroom gathering, or cockle picking, or go down to ASDA on a Saturday morning and see who can pack their trolley the fastest (and of course that spawned the timeless Supermarket Sweep). Whatever happened to Dale Winton?

Canoeing's a sport (although if you finish six years too late, you're probably not very good at it)*, but rather amusingly, the one sport I was ever slightly any good at - Ultimate frisbee - isn't on the list, so my brother was right all along. Actually, I did agree with his theory that it was basically a sport invented for people who couldn't play anything else (which is why I excelled). Anyway, so whilst I don't really think racing pigeons can be construed as a sport - let's face it, it's a hobby - neither do I agree with half the things on Sport England's list either. Ballooning?, Caving?, Ballroom Dancing?, Model Aircraft Flying?, What next? Is Blogging a sport? I hope so, or I owe HMRC some serious back tax...

* Topical!

Sport England's List of Sports
Floorballitis

Bonus Nikko photos

2007-12-02T16:17:00.000Z

Sorry for the lack of posts for a while, I've been concentrating too much on the other blog over at The BeerCast. But I'm going to be writing a few things for DUaB over the next week, and will try and get back to updating it twice a week like in the old days. For now, here are some extra photos I took last month in the central Japanese town of Nikko...

Culinary Adventures

2007-11-21T16:54:00.000Z

Doing the Monja in Kita-Senju

Something destined to be added to pub quizzes up and down the country this week is the question "What does London have 50 of, Paris 98, and Tokyo 191?" The answer is Michelin stars. For the first time ever the rotund tyreman of France has transplanted himself to an Asian city, and the anonymous reviewers scoured back streets to find out just how many fantastic restaurants there are in Tokyo. The result must have amazed the foodie industry in France - and probably Japan as well, having usurped the gastronomic centre of the world. The reviewers judge each eating place on a range of criteria (according to the Michelin website): 'product quality, preparation and flavors, the “personality” of the chef and the kitchen team, consistency over time and across the entire menu, and value for money.'

I've eaten out several times in Tokyo, but as yet never in the kind of establishment vying for the attention of the rubberised Frenchman. Michelin Guides were first produced as a handy leaflet for chauffers, detailing lay-bys and 'garages avec pompe a pneus', and soforth. It's fitting that today the guides are likely read by people who employ chauffers to shuttle them around, as they fork out hundreds of pounds at a time for something artfully arranged on a plate and dribbled with redcurrant 'jus'. Places like Joel Robuchon's Ebisu castle, which knocks out an 18 course banquet for ¥35,000 (£154) are waaaaay outside my price range (although they have set menus for about a quarter of that price). Robuchon won six stars for his Tokyo empire.

What a great job the reviewers had, dining out on incredibly intricate menus night after night. Japanese food can be stunning, in terms of presentation, the mixes of flavours, the freshness of ingredients, and of course the overall taste. When I was there the other week I again made an early-morning beeline for the Tsukiji fishmarket for a 7:30am sashimi breakfast. You pick one of the tiny, narrow countered places there, and duck into the inevitable cries of "Irashaimase!!". The cheerful but earnest sushi chefs quickly go about their business, and within a few minutes you've got the best sashimi you'll ever taste (outside of a Michelin starred restaurant, possibly), half of it unrecognisable, but all of it delicious.

Udon and sobu noodles are wonderfully filling, especially in the slurpy ramen bowls - I amused a cafe of locals by trying to loudly (and correctly) eat them, so much so that they all waved at me as I left. Tonkatsu is breaded pork, eaten with sesame-coated cabbage and plenty of beer, if you're in a hurry you can go for yakitori from a stand-up bar, or curry ordered from a vending machine but eaten inside. Once I managed to have a kaiseki banquet on the southern island of Miyajima - the pinnacle of Japanese dining (and presumably where most of the stars were awarded). Course after course of single dishes appeared, without explanation - tiny shellfish, a small plate of sashimi, a single palm-sized grilled fish, an un-nervingly large marine snail still in the shell, bacon served on a bed of ice. It was all incredible.

But some of the best Japanese culinary experiences are the participatory ones. Thanks to the trend for this shared dining experience, chain restaurants like Benihana have spread out across the West - but the authentic ones are of course far better. Two beer loving friends of mine, Sachika and Yuko, took me to a backstreet place in Kita-Senju, which turned out to be a Monjayaki restaurant. Similar to okonomiyaki, monja is cooked by you at a furnace-like hot plate at your table (well, the plate really is your table). Ingredients are mixed up, cold, in a bowl before the solid bits are plopped into a ring shape, and the liquid sauce dribbled into the centre. It's all folded in and eaten with nifty little metal spatulas. The place we were in was totally in Japanese - I'd never even have found it, much less worked out what to do, without help. I'm sure the Michelin reviewers avoided places where they had to cook their own food - but that's their loss...

Michelin publishes guide to Tokyo
Tokyo - Land of the Rising Stars [Guardian]

Podge by name...

2007-11-15T17:56:00.000Z

The last post I wrote was by necessity fairly somber - so it's time to redress the balance with some fluff. Literally, as it turns out, as I saw this brilliant cat story on the BBC website yesterday...

'A cat is baffling his owner by wandering off at night before expecting to be collected by car every morning at exactly the same time and place. Sgt Podge, a Norwegian Forest Cat, disappears from his owner's home in Talbot Woods, Bournemouth, every night. The next morning, the 12-year-old cat can always be found in exactly the same place, on a pavement about one and a half miles (2.4km) away. His owner, Liz Bullard, takes her son to school before collecting Sgt Podge. She also makes the trip at weekends and during school holidays - when her son is having a lie in. Back at home, Sgt Podge has breakfast before going to sleep by a warm radiator.'

Wonderful stuff. Firstly - that's probably the best name for a cat I've ever heard. I remember Bill Bryson once writing that you should never name an animal something you'd be too ashamed to yell from your back door - but obviously that isn't going to be a problem with this wandering moggie. Secondly - I hope he gets some exercise after his well-earned breakfast snoozing, because if he keeps on getting ferried around between meals he'll have to be promoted to Captain Podge. Thirdly - Norwegian Forest Cat? According to the Cat Fancier's Association breed profile database, they 'explored the world with the Vikings, protecting their grain stores on land and sea' (I won't tell you how long I thought about that before I realised they meant protecting the grain from mice).

Anyhow, Podge saunters off every evening to do his feline business, apparently crossing a nearby golf course. Then the following morning between 8:00am and 8:15am he presents himself at the same point on a distant street and patiently waits for his taxi service to arrive. What he does in the intervening hours isn't known - maybe he got nightshift work at a nearby grain warehouse, or something. Mrs Bullard only has to open her car door and he appears and leaps in, which would become unfortunate should somebody else park there around the same time and get out to stretch their legs. She also says that if it's raining he'll be hanging about under a nearby bush - surely what Podge needs is an old glass coffee table left outside which he could use as a cat-sized bus shelter.

There is a sensible reason for this - as there always is. Apparently a woman who lives near that spot used to feed Sgt Podge, so he became conditioned to going there. The first day he didn't come back, Mrs Bullard rang her neighbours to see if anyone had seen him, then drove about before finding him on the side of the road in that location. The crafty feline has now tuned in to the fact that he can wander over for some food and then if he waits, can get a lift home in the morning. Only in Britain would his owner silently agree to these demands - and only in Britain would a story about a punctual cat become the most emailed article on the BBC website. Sgt Podge, I salute you! (I only hope you chip in for the petrol now and again...)

Cat's daily routine baffles owner [BBC]

Remembrance

2007-11-11T10:37:00.000Z

The Menin Gate, Ypres

On the 11th of November 1918, the Great War finally ended. The conflict had resulted in the deaths of over 20 million people, injured more than twice that number, and destroyed families on almost every continent. As a result, the 11th day of the 11th month was declared a day of remembrance for those who had fallen, and the 11th hour when the treaty was signed became a poignant moment of reflection. Today is Remembrance Day, when we think back on those who have given their lives - or who had theirs taken away - by war and conflict. Up and down the country ceremonies are held and wreaths of scarlet poppies laid, and old men don uniforms to honour their friends who died in the fighting.

The largest gatherings are at the Cenotaph in London, a city highly familiar with war. It was here in 1897 that a french polisher called George Curtis and his wife Rose had a baby boy, whom they named Ernest. Raised in the east London area of Bow, Ernest had three brothers and three sisters. He must have had a hectic childhood as part of a large family in the centre of one of the busiest industrial cities in the world, at the end of the Victorian era. I don't know where he went to school or what kind of a career he was thinking of going into - maybe he was considering following his father into the family business. However, in 1914 the escalation of a conflict in the Balkans resulted in the German empire crossing through neutral Belgium to attack France, drawing the British into war. Ernest, who was now 17, joined the army.

He joined the London Regiment, 2/9th battalion, commonly known as the Queen Victoria Rifles. A Terratorial force created during the war to bolster numbers, they were part of the 2/1st London Division. In May 1915 they became the 175th Brigade of the 58th Division, having been merged with other local units such as the Hackneys and the Finsbury Rifles. In late January 1917 the entire 58th was relocated to France, to serve on the Western Front. The Queen Victoria's had a distinguished record already, with the 1st-Line battalions having fought at Neuve-Chapelle in March 1915, during which Lieutenant Geoffrey Woolley became the first Territorial Army soldier to win the Victoria Cross. A memorial to him and the Queen Victoria's still stands at the top of Hill 60, as the vantage point they fruitlessly defended was named.

Ernest and his mates must have heard stories about these acts of bravery. As their 2nd-Line regiments were deployed in the front lines, talk of previous battles would have been ever present. They would have seen the injured men removed from the lines, and the devastation caused by continuous shelling and bombardment. The British and Allied troops had been fighting for over two years, losing and re-taking the same ground, and calling up reserves to replace shattered divisions. Ernest's 58th Division were sent to the lowlands of Belgium. On the 17th of June engineers detonated nineteen enormous mines that had been painstakingly planted under the German positions at Messines Ridge, killing upwards of 10,000 in a single moment.

We don't know where Ernest fought in the upcoming battles - or even if he did - but after the June attack at Messines the conditions became truly awful. August 1917 was appallingly wet, reducing the boggy wetlands of Flanders to deep mud. The famous photographs of soldiers walking on wooden duckboards through lunar landscapes were taken at this time, during the third battle of Ypres. Soldiers who slipped off these boards often sank within seconds, weighed down by their equipment. The bloodbath continued - at Pilckem Ridge the allies lost 32,000 casualties gaining 2000 yards. It's inconceivable what these men went through, the things they saw and experienced.

After the weather destroyed any chance of large-scale offensives, a new strategy of short attacks was decided upon by the allied commanders. This was launched in September 1917. On the 8th of September, Ernest was killed in action. We don't know where he was, or what he was doing, or even how he died. He was 20, and his body was never found. The war continued without him, involving notorious battles at Polygon Wood and Passchendaele. His unit was merged with others as they all lost men - the Finsbury Rifles were disbanded completely after their casualties. The fighting would continue for another 14 months after Ernest's death, until the armistace on the 11th of November 1918.

After the war his sister Ethel married a man called Alfred Dodds. They had a daughter named Elsie, who is my Grandmother. Ernest Curtis was my great great Uncle. One of his other sisters, Rose, kept a framed picture of him in uniform on her wall until she died. As his remains were never recovered, his name was placed on the Menin Gate in Ypres with the inscriptions of 54,322 others who also have no known resting place. He has an entry on the Commonwealth War Graves Commission database - 'Rifleman EV Curtis (391842) London Regiment, Queen Victoria Rifles. Casualty number 1608861.' My parents have been to see his name on Panel 54 of the Menin Gate, and one day I will too. Until then, all I can do is remember him and all the others during this Remembrance Sunday.

Casualty 1608861, Rifleman EV Curtis
Geoffrey Woolley VC and Hill 60

Japan Roundup 2

2007-11-01T23:20:00.000Z

Tokyo - so good they named it twice. Well, not really. 1998 was the 'French year' in Japan - so to celebrate, Paris dispatched a replica of New York Harbour's famous guardian to Japan for the twelve months of festivities. Removed in 1999, it was so popular that it was re-instated in 2000, where it remains today. In the background is another landmark from the city, the Rainbow Bridge - so called because at night hundreds of lights of red, white and green twinkle away, giving a colourful frontage. It connects the city to the reclaimed island of Odaiba, and if you want to see Liberty close up, take the Yurikamome monorail to station U-07 (Daiba).

A traditional Japanese Shinto wedding ceremony in the Meiji Shrine. I was there for a couple of hours, and saw at least four of these groupings have their pictures taken before proceeding through the main shrine buildings to another ceremony. It was interesting to see the happy couple in traditional garments, with the other members of the party in black suits and suitable dresses. The bride does look as if she's just stepped out of the shower, but her white wedding kimono (a shiromuku) is possibly a nod to the white wedding dress. The actual Shinto ceremony is very short, solemn, but heavy on symbolism.

The Cosplayers give me a wave at Harajuku - I was trying to take a subtle photo of them being snapped by the dozens of Western tourists, when they turned around and gazumped me. But it's impossible not to smile and wave back at them - it's not as if anyone forces them to arrive at the station exit every Sunday morning with their small wheeled suitcases of 'regular' clothes so they can change back before they go home. There are plenty of people in the UK who dress up at weekends to become other characters, it's just that Cosplayers get photographed every time they turn around.

This is apparently a highly significant tree, inside the Tsurugaoka Hachimangu Shrine in Kamakura, about an hour south of Tokyo. I wish I could read the signs at places like this, but my Japanese extends only to a few hopefully useful phrases and associated hand waving. However, I was wandering up through the complex of buildings when I opened my guidebook and it mentioned the incredibly old tree by the main shrine steps. I would have just walked past it otherwise, but this Gingko tree predates the building (moved here in 1180), so is over 1000yrs old. In 1219, the third Minamoto Shogun was climbing these very steps to pay his respects when he was knifed by an assassin who had been hiding in the branches.

'Daibutsu' is a word familiar to many people who travel to Japan - it means 'large Buddha'. This, as you can see, is what a Daibutsu looks like. Also in Kamakura, this holy sculpture was forged in 1252, weighs 125 tonnes, and is 36ft high (10m). It's the second largest statue of the diety in Japan, behind the 16m Buddha enclosed in the Todai-ji temple in Nara (which I visited in 2005). The Kamakura one is more impressive, I think, because it's exposed and seems more enormous as a result. You can also go inside it, which I did, for Y20. It's basically a large bronze cave, with the great dome of the head above you. The statue stands in the open like this because the Todai-ji style temple which surrounded it was demolished by a tsunami in 1495.

I just love these haircuts...

Japan Roundup 1

2007-10-27T21:23:00.000Z

Well, the Tokyo trip may be a diminishing memory, but I've still got a several photos to add to the blog, so stand by for a few more posts, wringing the last drops from the holiday. Here we have an arty shot of the Senso-ji temple roof and a similarly-shaped cloud. Never let it be said I can't do composition...

Think of Japan and technology, and videogames often spring to mind. When I was in Osaka in 2005 I had great fun wandering around the gaming arcades looking at the machines and the serious expressions on the players. In Akihabara last week I explored a seven storey SEGA GiGo arcade and watched the gamers, some of whom were encased in massive Gundam pods (see here), blasting away at giant robots. I wouldn't have lasted long - well, I wouldn't have been able to work out what to do - so I made do with this, a retro Arkanoid arcade table-top in Odaiba, and happily wasted a few hundred yen pinging balls around.

Another stereotype is the perfectly timed business of the Tokyo metro, and I have to say it's always seemed true to me. Running every few minutes from 5am to midnight, the various lines make it easy to get around, with the circular Yamanote Line a great introduction to where each area of the city lies. It takes about an hour to do a complete loop, and with everything translated into English it's impossible to get lost. Or rather, it's impossible to get lost by going to the wrong place - leaving a station via the right exit is another matter. Even small stations have several exits, and JR Shinjuku has over 20, not including the other operators who have their stations connected. Many times I'd emerge hopefully from a brightly-lit underground expecting to find a park entrance, and instead be facing a supermarket and pachinko parlour.

A large ship berthed by the reclaimed land of Odaiba Island in Tokyo Bay. Odaiba was one of the notorious bubble-boom engineering products of the late 1980's, when the surging economy gave the impetus for all kinds of projects. Large islands were created in the busy harbour, and populated with corporate headquarters, entertainment districts, and even golf courses (Google Earth is great for exploring Tokyo Bay). The Odaiba name refers to lagoon defences that were placed nearby by the Tokugawa shogunate in response to the American fleets of the 1850's ('Daiba' means cannon battery in Japanese). Since then, they have been added to and developed with more and more outlandish architecture. This photo, for example, isn't actually a ship, but the Tokyo Maritime Museum.

As I said in my previous post, Tokyo really glimmers at night. There are a few viewpoints around the city, the free Metropolitan Government Building in Shinjuku is pretty good - but I went up the Mori Tower in Roppongi to take a look at an exhibition of Japanese Modern Art (which was suitably bizarre and fantastic). The 780ft, 54 storey skyscraper whisked me to the top in a turbolift, and after exploring the Mori Art Gallery I went into the Tokyo City View and watched the lights twinkling in the distance. Here, the highrises of Shinjuku sit behind the dark stripe of the Meiji shrine complex. Another of Tokyo's surprisingly common green areas is in the foreground, Aoyama Cemetery.

Asakusa after dark

2007-10-24T18:32:00.000Z

The temple district of Asakusa is another must-see on the Tokyo list. The locals pronounce it "Assak'sa", according to a rickshaw puller who chatted to me for a while in a forlorn attempt to get me in his tourist carriage. For a long time in the city's history, it was the centre of entertainment, as nobles and high-ups descended to the banks of the Sumida River for some unruly fun and games. These days, the modern-day nobles head off to Roppongi or Shinjuku, leaving Asakusa to that other key component of guilty pleasure - temples.

Asakusa's main sight is the stunning Sensō-ji temple, which is 30 seconds walk from the metro station at the end of the Ginza line. By day, it's packed with tourists - the majority of them from elsewhere in Japan - but at night, it's far less busy and the buildings look amazing as they are illuminated. The first part of the complex is the Kaminari-mon, 'Thunder Gate', dating originally from 942AD - although this one is a modern reconstruction (the 4m long lantern was made in 2003). Either side are the god of thunder, Raijin (left), and wind, Fujin (right).

Past the thunder gods is a long, straight, narrow street where the bottlenecks really happen. Nakamise-dori is a 250m long road of small shops and stalls that sell trinkets, charms, and food. In short, it's great for souvenirs and presents. At night, a lot of them have closed and gone home after trading, but it at least means you can walk down without too much difficulty. The disply of leaves are there to herald the start of Autumn - changing seasons have a big resonance in Japan.

At the end of the street are the main temple buildings, and another gate to pass under. The complex has been damaged by earthquakes at least ten times over the centuries, and was then destroyed in the firestorms of the Tokyo air-raids during World War II. In 1958 it was rebuilt and restored to the glorious vermillion and gold colour scheme. The traditional glowing lanterns on the run-up to the temple really add to the atmosphere.

And this is the main focus. Past a large incense burner dispensing 'lucky smoke' as one old man explained it to me, is the main hall and the altar. At night the doors are closed and the offering box placed outside, but still people climb the steps to pray. The temple is dedicated to Kannon, the Buddhist bodhisattva of compassion. Legend has it two fishermen dredged up a small statue of her from the nearby Sumida in 628. Showing it to their local priest, he quickly recognised the significance and built a temple around it in his house, which was located in Asakusa.

It's a great place to wander around - the buildings are incredible, and in any direction the side streets have small restaurants and bars to keep you going. You can even arrive here by boat on a cruise up the Sumida if you like - but come here during the day to stock up on bits and pieces from the shops, then return at night to see the place illuminated, and looking completely different.

Tokyo's Neon Wonderland

2007-10-22T09:58:00.000Z

'Akihabara Denki Gai' is one of Tokyo's most immersive neighbourhoods. Translated as Akihabara Electric Town, the area five minutes from the main Tokyo station is a hub of technology and modern Japanese culture. Famed for it's otaku, or Akiba-kei, the hordes of (mostly) young men that pour into the area to indulge the passions of gaming, anime, and electronics, it's one of the 24hr playgrounds the city is known for. Just leaving the station starts the fun, as the Electric Town exit is filled with people milling about, and girls in maid costumes handing out flyers and tissue packets (a common occurrence in Tokyo). Every tall building here is festooned with lights and neon, even during daytime.

I went there partly to go on a guided tour, run by the Yokoso! Japan tourist scheme. I'm not really a fan of the manga and anime (comics and cartoons, respectively - don't let an Akiba-kei hear you mixing them up), but it's such a Japanese phenomenon that any visitor to the city should investigate, even for a short while. The tour was bizarre, being not a window into the gaming culture, but a procession through shops pointing out plasma TV's (I saw the largest TV in the world), and other electronics and robots, like this self-playing piano. The locals gawped at our group (about 20 Westerners), the same way we'd stare quizzically at 20 Japanese being given a guided tour of PC World.

In a region of fantastic food, Akihabara is something of a black hole - after all, who needs food when you're only there to buy electrical goods or plastic anime figures? McDonalds and curry houses are all there is, the Japanese twist on curry meaning you order from a vending machine outside the doors, then carry in the ticket and present it to the cook who ladles it out. On leaving one of the eletronics shops, we passed this large queue of men waiting for a kebab - the only time I've seen kebabs for sale in Japan. It was the middle of the afternoon, not Friday night, and nobody was drunk. Very different to kebab time in the UK.

Of course, it really pays to visit Aki at night, when the lights are dazzling and the after-work crowds even busier. Light and noise are everywhere - each shop has deafening displays of tunes and chatter of sale prices, music is pumped into the street, bleeps and flashes from gaming arcades compete against each other, it really is an assault on the senses. I took this picture standing in the same place as the first photo, but looking in the other direction. The tissue girls were still there, and now you can really see the detail on each building, with the illuminated escalators leading up between each floor. I've got a special post upcoming on my favourite Akihabara shop, with what kinds of things you can actually buy here (should you wish).

This sums up Tokyo for me - lights, traffic, people. You either love Akihabara or you'll hate it, and if you're not sure you can find out within twenty seconds of stepping out of the station. Just don't go there for peace and quiet...

New Discovery Tour

Nikko

2007-10-18T12:24:00.000Z

Two hours north of Tokyo on the Tobu Asakusa line is the historic town of Nikko - one of the great centres of Japanese religion and power. As such, it`s one of the busiest places in the country, and as yesterday was a major festival there I figured if I went a day later it would be quiet. It certainly was here - the Gamman-ga-Fuji Abyss. The gorge of the River Daiya is bounded by dozens of these statues of Jizo, protector of travellers and the souls of `departed children`. Green moss offset against the bright red clothes on the Jizos, with nobody in sight, it was really eerie.

The Abyss was quiet because it was a thirty minute walk away from the main centre of Nikko activity - Tosho-gu, a sacred site since the 8th Century. In 1617 the area was chosen as the burial place of Tokugawa Ieyasu, the first of the Tokugawa Shoguns and founder of the shogunate that ruled Japan for over 250yrs until the Meiji Restoration of 1868. His shrine was constructed by 15,000 artisans, and is a World Heritage site. I took this on the main approach path, and thought "Well, there`s a few people up ahead, but maybe it`ll be reasonably quiet."

Err, no, not really. This happens a lot in the touristy parts of Japan, there`s not much to do but wait. Trouble was, it was pouring down by this point so I just toughed it out and charged into the mass of umbrellas. Incidentally, the sign at the bottom of the steps reads `keep left`.

Tosho-gu is also famed for it`s carvings, there are the three monkeys posed in the `hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil` style, there`s a white horse in a mock stable, a crying dragon in a room with strange sound properties (an echo directly underneath the dragon but nowhere else) - and these elephants. If you think they look a bit strange, the man who carved them had never seen one, he just followed verbal instructions of someone who had.

But back to the main shrine gate - Yomeimon. Up close (about fifteen minutes of shuffling later) it was covered in figures of mythical creatures and wise men. In classic Japanese style, the team of artisans who put this stunner together were so concerned that it`s brilliance might offend the gods, they put the final supporting pillar on upside-down, as a deliberate mistake so it wasn`t exactly perfect.

Um, sumimasen!

After three hours of soaking wet wandering around, the perfect pick-me-up is a can of Itoen Darjeeling blend milk tea. Delivered hot from a vending machine for Y120, they are incredibly sweet and milky, with a background hint of tea somewhere. But after fighting the crowds in the cold climate of the Nikko mountains, it`s just what was needed at the end of a long day. (yes, it really is that colour)

Laundering Money in Kamakura

2007-10-17T08:23:00.000Z

An hour south of Tokyo is Kamakura, a small seaside town that was the capital of Japan during the 12th and 13th Centuries. Today, the location and surrounding hills (which were the reason for the defensive garrison) are popular with day trippers from the big city. One of the lesser-known shrines is Zeniarai Benzaiten, 20mins up a innocuous street from the station. Eventually, you come to this opening.

Through which is a spooky mine-like tunnel. In 1185, so the story goes, a man by the name of Miramoto Yoritomo had a dream on the day of the snake, during the year of the snake. The god Ugafukujin appeared and told him about a mysterious cave with magic waters, in which he should build a shrine. Not surprisingly, he immediately went out and did just this, first chipping out the tunnel, presumably.

On the far side are some usual shrine buildings, large incense burners, and a small altar stage - all enclosed within a secluded cave grotto. Further on is a low gap in the cliff-face, and it`s here that the magic waters of Ugafukujin are located.

Shintoism is an animist religion, with many, many facets and components. As such, small shrines (not temples, those are Buddhist) are located all over the islands of Japan, many having a specific role or worshipping an exact deity. Zeniarai Benzaiten is all about magic money. And you don`t stand off and watch monks or priests doing their thing here, you roll up the sleeves and take part.

In a nutshell, any money (coins or notes) you wash in the magic water will become sacred. In the words of the god - "If you spend money that has been washed in the spring`s water, it will increase many times and come back to you". So the faithful such as myself grab a small reed basket, tip in some Yen, and get dunking...

But don`t worry, it dries naturally (credit cards not accepted).

There were no instructions on how long to leave the cash in contact with the lucky water, so I gave it a few extra seconds, just to be on the safe side.

I`ll be spending this later, and will be very sure to monitor exactly how much comes back to me. I`ll keep you posted...

Happy Shoppers

2007-10-16T09:18:00.000Z

Japanese Supermarkets are great fun to wander around in, just to look at the sheer variety of what`s on offer. Of course, many of the things on display are not the kind of produce you`d find in your local Morrisons - or even Waitrose - many seem difficult to know what to do with them. These giant Daikon radishes are a fixture in Japanese cooking. Each was about as long as my forearm.

Rose heads - I really don`t know what these could be for, other than decoration. Everyone knows how intricate and artistic Japanese food is, so presumably you need to go somewhere to buy the little bits and pieces that make your food that little bit more special. Some clever chefs can make `roses` out of a piece of carrot, but when you can buy them in a packet, it saves so much time. Only choice is, which colour?

The anti-plastic bag revolution hasn`t made it this far yet - in every shop you visit, a purchase results in a plastic bag as well, often an enormous one. I try and say "Iie" as much as I can, but in the Supermarkets are shelves of individually wrapped fish, vegetables, or fruit like these limes. The fish section of this Supermarket had a vaccuum-packed Parrot Fish, like something you`d expect to see in the Aquarium (and not the aquarium gift shop).

Speaking of fish, it`s a major component of the diet, so lots of fishy products on offer. Here we have some dried fish grindings with the consistency of sand. Good for adding instant flavour to soups or stews...

...or you could get the real thing, if you`d rather. There were packets of different sized dried fish on display, from tiddlers the width of your thumbnail to ones as long as your finger. I once went to a Japanese cooking class when I was in Sydney (see here), and before we cooked we had a tea snack of tiny dried fish mixed with flaked almonds. It was pretty good, although you kind of hoped the crunchy parts were just the almonds.

Crowds and Dolls

2007-10-15T09:41:00.000Z

Sunday in Tokyo all seems to happen towards the west of the city. First off, the Meiji shrine. Opened in 1920, it was destroyed during the war and rebuilt afterwards. This wooden torii gate is the largest of it's kind in Japan, made from massive Taiwanese cedars. 1 million people visit Meiji over the new year period, and although not reaching those numbers when I was there, the Sunday crowds were everywhere. Roughly a 50-50 mix of Japanese and Westerners, everyone was out taking pictures, especially of the Shinto weddings that were going on.

There was a special festival happening inside the main shrine courtyard, just for that one Sunday. 'Doll Thanksgiving Day' is a nifty and rather sweet idea where you can offload those dolls and toys that have outstayed their usefulness. You hand them in, and they are arranged in these large doll grandstands (this was only a small percentage of them). The idea is, they are blessed and then disposed of "in a fitting manner" (incineration). It acts both as a good way of saying goodbye to toys when you've outgrown them, and saves you from cluttering up cupboards with boxes of forgotten playthings. Young kids taking part in the wedding processions accross this courtyard had to be restrained by their parents from bolting off into what would surely be a toddler's toy heaven.

Now this...is a quiff. Even on my spikiest of days, I can't compete with this chap. On Sundays the Rockabillys come out to Yoyogi Park and do their thing, much to the amusement of tourists. Essentially, they just play loud music and stand around drinking beer, but it gives them an outlet for their fashion. I sat down and watched them for a bit, and an old Japanese man started talking to me (this happens a lot in Tokyo), explaining what was going on. He pointed at this man, miming his enormous haircut, then said "Monday...at work...", before mimicking a swooping flattened combover style. "Much, much hairspray!", he chuckled.

The Cosplay (Costume Play) hordes and their watchers outside Harajuku station. Just round the corner from the Rockabillys is the famous patch of teenage girls who dress up as outlandish anime and manga characters. This spot has to be the highest concentration yet of Western tourists, as they queued to get pictures taken with the girls, most of whom were only too glad to pose for the cameras. It all seems a bit strange to me, and just at the edges of each scene were middle aged men with zoom lenses.

Takeshita-dori - the place to shop if you're a Harajuku girl (Google it). I'm not so much, of course, but nobody can resist teenage craziness, so I had an amusing - and cramped - wander along the tiny pedestrian street. The thing is, after a while, the kawaii pink madness dissipates and the clothes shops get pretty decent. I went in a few of the men's ones, and even managed to find myself a new golfing jumper. How hardcore is that - shopping for golf wear in Harajuku? Not only am I bucking the Tokyo trend by purchasing naff sports equipment in their hottest urban area, but next time I take to the East Lothian links, I'll be the only player ever (I would think), to be clad in an outfit bought from the hub of the Cosplayers.

And while we're on Tokyo stereotypes, here's the quintassential night view of the city - Shibuya's Hachiko crossing. As seen in every Tokyo film or travel piece, the hordes of people spill over from every direction at two minute intervals. In fact, when I was crossing it before taking this, there was a French film crew doing a piece to camera in the middle - dashing out as the lights went and then standing in the middle of the throng, waving arms around as only a French TV presenter can.

On Tokyo Time

2007-10-14T11:04:00.000Z

No swimming, o kudasai!

So, I`ve been here in Japan for three days now, without much chance to update on how I`ve been getting on. Having said that tomorrow is Monday when everything closes in the city, and the weather is forecast to rain all day - so I will probably come back online then and do a major upload of blog posts and photos. Until then, the story so far...

Flight over was fine, and for a supposed 12hr trip it really wasn`t so bad - we had a 50kmh tailwind most of the way (I know this because I always keep the TV channel on the map/info page - it was either that or watch Harry Potter). So we roared along in just over 10hrs. I suspect the flight home will take a fair bit longer. Still, I didn`t sleep at all on the flight, as we took off at 1pm, had a meal, and then all the lights went out (to adjust us to Tokyo time). So there I am listening to the iPod for the next 7hrs, until `breakfast` time.

The first day and a half were really a blur - I got to the hostel OK, thanks to generous directions on the website. I couldn`t get checked in for a few hours, so my sleep-deprived body was back out on the streets in the unseasonal 28C weather. I wandered around Ueno park for a while, during which I checked out one of the hidden gems of Tokyo - Shinobazu Pond (pictured), a Edo-era lake said to be really beautiful. At the moment though, it was chock-full of giant water lily leaves, which made the `No Swimming` signs a bit pointless.

After I got sorted out at the hostel - and here`s a tip for you, if you bring your VISA card 6000 miles around the world with the intention of using it to pay for things, remember to recall your pin number before you go. I had fun with the girl at the hostel desk thinking I was a complete moron for offering my card only to immediately apologise for not being able to remember the pin. Fortunately, I had a big wad of cash to pay for it. That covered, the hostel is really good, got all kinds of treats, including my own Japanese bath, which is the perfect relief for tired travellers.

Jetlag being what it is, though, I was up most of the night, but after another day pounding round Ueno Park catching up on the bits I`d missed or dazedly walked past, I was right as rain. Speaking of which, since the first hot day the weather has been amazing - mid 20`s, light winds, no rain. Whilst I was sitting in the park an old man wobbled up to me on a bike and drunkenly practiced his English on me - he said they had been through an unusually hot summer this year, but it was slowly getting to Autumn. Incidentally, he told me he learned English by watching Sherlock Holmes DVD`s - not the same as the old Tricolore textbooks we used to get at school.

So that`s it for this intro, check in over the next couple of days and I`ll probably have put up a few more posts, some of just photos, some with what I`ve been doing. In a nutshell, I`ve been getting historic in Asakusa (and learning the correct way to pronounce it to avoid sounding like a tourist), getting crazy in the madness of Akihabara, getting some peace in Meiji, and getting some t-shirts in Harajuku. Until next time...

More action to come...

2007-10-04T19:38:00.000Z

I know things have been a bit slow on DUaB of late - my two posts a week usual seem to have dwindled to one every week - largely thanks to the activity over at The BeerCast. But change is afoot! Next week I'm going back to Tokyo for ten days, and will be blogging as often as possible from the place that put the mega in megacity. Also check out my Flickr page for more comprehensive photo updates (see link on the right). Anyway, I'll pop up again next week in the city by the Sendai. Ja mata ne!

The Humble Prawn

2007-09-30T21:05:00.000Z

All hail the mighty creatures...

I was munching on a prawn sandwich from Sainsbury's this weekend, and as we are expected to do these days I started to wonder where my food had come from. The higher-end supermarkets have fairtrade this and ethically sourced that, but the inch long pink curly things in my lunch could really have come from anywhere. In turn, this got me to thinking about prawns and shrimps in general (it was a slow afternoon), and the fact that we really don't give them a great deal of credit. "But what do I have to thank a prawn for?" you might ask. More than you would think - just a ten minute Google later, we find the plucky crustaceans helping spread peace through the EU, creating Supernovas, knocking in goals, tricking scientists, and even saving lives. Read on friend, and never doubt our seaside-dwelling chums again...

Prawns to Germany?
UK fishing boats poised to go bankrupt were saved earlier this year when the government struck a deal with Germany to exchange 1.5% of the UK's North Sea prawn quota for lucrative sole. 150 tonnes of the pricey flatfish were passed over to struggling smallholders along the Suffolk and Kent coasts, in exchange for the bountiful decapods. The 1.5% quota figure was believed to yield 375 tonnes of prawns for the German fishermen. Almost 200 boats were on the verge of going out of business after the flatfish they normally rely on had their allowances cut. Link

The Shrimps at Wembley?
The Lancastrian seaside town of Morecambe is famous for a few things, and shrimps are one of them. Served in small pots of butter, the tiny brown things are a northwestern delicacy. So much so, that the town's football team is nicknamed the Shrimps (surely beaten only by Preston Grasshoppers in the lists of invertebrate mascots). Formed in 1920, Morecambe FC have dwelled in the lower leagues for their entire history - playing in footballing rockpools, if you will. That is, until last year when they overcame all the odds and gained promotion to the football league for the first time in their history. Even more remarkably, they knocked out local rivals Preston North End in the league cup (two divisions above them), and then went to play ex-Premier leaguers Wolves in the next round - promptly dumping them out 3-1. The greatest result in their history put them in the last 32. Sadly, they then got potted 5-0 by Sheffield United, but every Shrimp has it's day. Morecambe FC

The Supernova Shrimp?
The Alpheid Snapping Shimp that inhabit tropical coral reefs are more commonly known as 'Pistol Shrimps'. These amazing little nippers live in burrows and feed on fish - not by foraging for dead ones as other prawns do - but by nuking unsuspecting passers-by with a shockwave blast that pound-for-pound is the loudest noise in the animal kingdom. A special claw snaps closed in less than a millisecond, generating an acoustic cavitation wave of 80kPa. I have no idea what that means, but they can stun any fish within 4cm. As a by-product, this act also releases a flash of light, which reaches a temperature hotter than the surface of the sun as the pressure bubble collapses. If they ever decide to use this against us, watch out. Happily they mostly live symbiotically with gobies - the shrimp digs a burrow they share and the fish uses it's better eyesight to watch out for danger. They keep in constant contact so they are both safe (presumably apart from when the shrimp is atomising it's dinner). video of Pistol Shrimp in action

Shrimps to the rescue of diabetics?
Scientists in Taiwan are close to finalising trials of an insulin pill for diabetics, which is enclosed within a specially made shell. Insulin is destroyed by stomach acid, meaning sufferers of the disease need to inject themselves directly to bypass the digestive system. But the scientists have found a textured carbohydrate called Chitosan, synthesised from shrimp cells, which is resistant to human stomach enzymes. Tiny spheres of insulin are encased in the prawn armour, and swallowed. They travel through the stomach unmolested, and attach to the walls of the small intestine, where they are absorbed into the bloodstream and their vital contents can get to work. The trials have only been successful for rats so far, and there is a long way to go - but the Taiwanese team are hopeful they can repeat their results elsewhere and use their prawn pill to help diabetics give up the needle. Link

What's that clicking noise?
Scientists are always coming up with brilliant schemes to find things out - and the topic of interstellar space particles is no exception. Neutrinos are launched from collisions between cosmic rays and energy from the Big Bang, and rocket through the universe for billions of years. They have never been detected before, but scientists at University College London came up with the idea of using sensitive microphones to listen to the particles as they plop into the ocean. Apparently even though these minute grains whizz through space as if they were fired from the claws of a hungry pistol shrimp, when they hit the Earth they weigh so little you can hardly sense them. If one of them hit you, you'd never feel it (thankfully). So the boffins gathered a set of high-tech gadgetry off the Scottish island of Rona, to attempt to unlock the secrets of the universe. They were therefore amazed when their hydrophones picked up a multitude of snaps and bangs going off all the time. Were these Neutrinos bombarding us like we never thought? Well, no, as they later found a species of - you guessed it - clicking prawn, innocently firing off their claws at exactly the same frequency. "They are pretty annoying, but fortunately they click all the time, so we can filter them out" said one of the UCL scientists. Link

More from Mull

2007-09-23T21:14:00.000Z

There are dozens of islands off the west coast of Scotland, and the ferries hold everything together. Here the Tiree ferry motors past the inshore island of Lismore, as seen from the top of Duart Castle on Mull. Lismore means 'great garden' in Gaelic, as there are over 300 species of plant and 160 species of birds crammed onto it's 12 mile by 1 mile length - along with 160 people. You'd never guess, looking at this view.

Some of the ships don't make it - here at Salen is an impromptu graveyard for old fishing boats. When you drive around Mull, every so often you come across something old and rusting, used as long as possible and then left to quietly fall apart.

Daytrippers queue up to pile onboard the ferry from Iona to Fionnphort. Iona is one of those tiny quiet places that seem deserted apart from hordes of daytrippers mooching about looking at things. Apparently 125 people live there, but they must keep a low profile when the groups wander past their cottages. Iona's a nice place, a few small gardens, nice views, and the famous abbey and graveyard.

Back to Duart Castle, and the ornate chimneys on top of the roof that overlook the Sound of Mull. A few seconds after I took this, we saw a small group of dolphins making their way between the islands. Using the binoculars you could make them out, but they were moving so quickly it was hard to identify exactly what they were. From the battlements of the castle we could clearly hear the sounds of the blowholes as they moved to another feeding ground to try their luck.

The main town on Mull is Tobermory, home to about 700 people. The name comes from the Gaelic Tobar Mhoire, meaning 'Mary's well', but to many younger people it should really be called Balamory. The children's TV series was filmed here, making use of the colourful cottages. Of course, real people live in these buildings, so many have signs outside them saying things like "Bernard the bricklayer is sleeping - don't wake him!" or "Dave the milkman is on his milkround, please don't knock on the door!" (or something, I've never actually seen it so I don't know their names).

Time for some more Gaelic - cala ghearraidh, which translates as "the meadow beside the bay". Over time this was convoluted to 'Calgary', and a nearby castle given the same name. It's after that estate the Canadian city took it's name (one of the officers charged with building a fort in southern Alberta had stayed at Calgary Castle and liked the name). This is my brother walking on the old jetty at Calgary Bay - from which all 200 of the original inhabitants were forcibly removed to the New World to make way for sheep during the Highland Clearances. Nobody knows if any of them made it to southern Alberta, but if they did I bet they won't have appreciated the irony.

Coos on Mull

2007-09-17T21:30:00.000Z

Mull's a great island, really a fantastic part of Scotland. Famed for it's wildlife - we saw otters, eagles and dolphins - it's the Highland Cow that's the ubiquitous symbol of this part of the world. Here are some pictures I got, which really wasn't difficult as you can just wander up to them - they really don't seem to care. In a few days, I'll put some more pictures up from different parts of the island - but until then...coos!

Mulltime

2007-09-07T21:40:00.000Z

More of this to come...

Mid-September and the festival craziness is over. Admittedly, I didn't really go to anything, but all the visitors have left Edinburgh and it's time for a holiday of my own. To the Isle of Mull, for a week. Stand by for plenty of remote photos of colourful houses and heeland coos. I'll also have two more short trips away in the next few weeks, before the big one - I'm going back to Tokyo, in October. DUaB hits the road again...

End of the Festivities

2007-09-03T06:16:00.000Z

One of the calendar dates for Edinburghers is the annual fireworks display over the castle, signifying the end of the festival season. 1.5m tickets for shows and concerts later, the massive influx of tourists and crowds dwindle away and the locals come out for the final festival act. Even with the stunning spectacle going on, other things can be more entertaining, as this young boy in the crowd stares at a funky neon wand-thing bought for him by his parents.

Edinburgh's more famous fireworks happen at Hogmanay, but the festival finale fireworks are also a big draw. A large 'family fun zone' is layed out in Inverleith Park near the botanic gardens, which gives an unobstructed view over to the castle, used as the backdrop. Music for the show, which lasts a good 45 minutes, comes from the Scottish Philharmonic Orchestra.

Fireworks are notoriously hard to photograph, but my trusty credit card-sized Panasonic has a special setting for them, so you've got to give it a go. About a thousand pictures later, these are a few of the best. Some people viewing had tripods and fancy setups, but I always prefer the portable point and click method. OK, it may be rubbish, but at least I'm improving - my photos from the Sydney new year fireworks in 2005 are even more fuzzy.

The mega spectacle was slightly let down by the music - which for some reason this year was American marching band stuff. I've nothing against that kind of thing, but maybe it would have been more suited to a civil war re-enactment than a Scottish fireworks display. And the BBC Radio Scotland hosts were the epitome of tweee local radio presenters, going on at length about the 'carnival atmosphere' and coming out with things like 'it feels as if they are putting on a show just for us' or 'if you live on Castle Terrace and were thinking of turning in for an early night - forget it! Eh, Diane?' Still, easy to block them out.

My abiding memory of the end of festival display is the 2004 show, which happened a few weeks before I moved to Australia. In my old flat on the other side of town, people used to bring chairs and radios and sit in the road (it was a reasonably quiet street), to get the best view of the fireworks. If a car came, everyone would get up and move, then re-plonk themselves in their spots. But the Scottish weather being what it is, the heavy rain and think cloud meant you could see about an inch of sky, just snatching a quick glimpse of the rockets shooting upwards, as they burst inside the cloud invisible to all. Being British, we all stood or sat there anyway, getting soaked, watching a spectacular non-spectacle.

...but despite the show last night being highly impressive, for some of the people watching, there were other more important things going on...

Taking the Aussie test

2007-08-26T14:37:00.000Z

Question 7...

The Australian Government today released a 40-page booklet to be issued to all prospective immigrants. Inside, it summarises the history, people and customs of the country. Also for the first time, those that wish to become part of life down under must take a written test of twenty questions. If they score less than twelve correct, they will be refused entry (although only until they can re-sit and exceed the pass mark). "This is part of the government's emphasis that we continue to get that balance between diversity and integration correct in future, particularly as we now draw people from so many different countries and so many different cultures." said the minister in charge, Kevin Andrews. Well, I managed to get through the immigration checks when I moved to Sydney (i.e. I bought a visa) - but could I qualify if I had to...?

[correct answers in brackets. And no, I didn't cheat and use Google]

1. In what year did Federation take place?
Er, blimey. I have no idea. Not a good start.
[1901]

2. Which day of the year is Australia Day?
I was only there for one Australia Day, but I'm pretty sure it's the 25th of January.
[January 26th]

3. Who was the first Prime Minister of Australia?
Um...
[Edmund Barton]

4. What is the first line of Australia's national anthem?
I know it's called 'Advance Australia Fair', and I also know that isn't the first line.
['Australians all, let us rejoice']

5. What is the floral emblem of Australia?
The floral emblem of New South Wales is the Waratah. No points for that though. The gum tree?
[Wattle]

6. What is the population of Australia?
They must be able to read the booklet first, I would think. They can't expect potential immigrants to know this exactly, surely? And anyway, if you were applying for immigration it would mean the answer would shortly be wrong.
[approx 21m]

7. In what city is the Parliament House of the Commonwealth Parliament located?
Canberra! I've been round it!
[Canberra]

8. Who is the Queen's representative in Australia?
The Governor General, who lives in a very swanky mansion at Kirribilli opposite the Opera House. Don't ask me his name though.
[The Governor General]

9. How are Members of Parliament chosen?
Er...they get elected?
[Elections]

10. Who do Members of Parliament represent?
Their constituents. Or, when necessary, themselves.
[The people of their electorate]

11. After a federal election, who forms the new government?
The party that gets the most votes.
[The political party or coalition of parties which wins a majority of seats in the House of Representatives]

12. What are the colours on the Australian flag?
Red white and blue. An easy one there.
[Red White and Blue]

13. Who is the head of the Australian Government?
The Prime Minister, John Howard (of whom I am not a fan - not that I would write that in my answer)
[The Prime Minister]

14. What are the three levels of government in Australia?
Um. Local, State and Federal?
[Commonwealth, State or Territory and local]

15. In what year did the European settlement of Australia start?
The first fleet arrived in 1788, I read a book on it when I was there.
[1788]

16. Serving on a jury if required is a responsibility of Australian citizenship: true or false?
It is here, so I'll go for true.
[True]

17. In Australia, everyone is free to practice the religion of their choice, or practice no religion: true of false?
Sounds like a trick question, but I'm going to push the boat out and say true.
[True]

18. To be elected to the Commonwealth Parliament you must be an Australian citizen: true or false?
I would think so?
[True]

19. As an Australian citizen, I have the right to register my baby born overseas as an Australian citizen: true or false?
A lot of these are true, which makes me worried - but 'True' again.
[True]

20. Australian citizens aged 18 years or over are required to enrol on the electoral register: true or false?
Someone told me when I was there that voting is compulsory, so it's another true. So...did I pass?
[True]

Thirteen out of twenty - one better than the pass mark required. After a year of living in Australia, I managed to accumulate only enough basic information to scrape through as one of them. Thankfully, they don't ask you these questions when your visa runs out to see what you've learned on your stay...

Australia unveils immigrant tests [BBC]
Citizenship test questions [Sydney Morning Herald]

It's a dangerous job...

2007-08-21T20:04:00.000Z

But what else will they give you...?

A few years ago I was in the Massachusetts coastal town of Gloucester, and on the seafront there stands a famous monument to fishermen who have died in the Atlantic waters over the years. Fishing is one of the world's most dangerous occupations - 454 British fishermen were lost in the 20yrs to 1995, according to the Health and Safety Executive. Figures from the US Dept of Labour have the most hazardous job there as woodcutting (they seem to have moved on from 'lumberjacks'), with 117 fatalities per 100,000 workers in the year 2002. The combination of large machinery, falling trees and remoteness clearly become an unfortunate set of circumstances. But if you look at the ICD10 coding book of every bad thing that can happen to you ever, there are no specific disorders attributable to these careers, so which job is truly more dangerous?

Being a Housemaid is the classic example of a seemingly dull job that can have painful consequences. Housemaid's Knee (M70.4) is now commonly called by it's anatomical name as the Victorian era of put-upon women scrubbing slate floors has long gone, although 'Prepatellar bursitis' isn't quite as romantic. Shipyard Eye (H79.2) likewise paints a picture of a bygone era (unlike 'Epidemic keratoconjunctivitis'), as does Haymaker's Lung (J67.0), Farmer's Skin (L57.8), and Brass-founder's Ague (T56.8), which is also known as Foundryman's Fever. Inhalation of metallic oxide particles stick to the lungs and cause severe malaria-like symptoms - something the careers guidance counselor won't have mentioned (and I bet they don't have a disease.

If you're collecting body parts to go with your Farmer's Skin and Shipyard Eye, then be on the look out for Tin Miner's Lung (J63.5) and Coal Miner's Elbow (M70.2) - and try not to get them confused, especially if you're calling in sick from your miner's hut as you fancy a day off. Shoemaker's Chest (M95.4), Baseball Finger (S63.1) also sound painful, as does something many people are risking in later life - Beer Drinker's Heart Disease (I42.6) (I don't know if this is any different to the normal heart disease). Baker's Cyst (M71.2) could be for the overly-excited kneaders out there, as could Student's Elbow (M70.2).

There really can't be too many inpatient admissions to Scottish hospitals from people suffering from Pearl-worker's Disease (M86.8), File-cutter's Disease (T56.0), or Cork-handler's Disease (J67.3). And the absolute best of the lot - Milkman's Disease (M83.8) - notable symptoms include an irritating jaunty whistle - which now has been reclassified 'Osteomalacia', the highly common softening of bones due to a deficiency of Vitamin D. Lungs take quite a pounding in these various careers, with Slate-dresser's Lung (J62.8), Fishmeal-workers Lung (J67.8), Arc Welder's Lung (J63.4), Cheese-washer's Lung (J67.8), and surely the most specific job/disease combo in the medical world - Maple Bark-stripper's Lung (J67.6).

Having said that, Kew Garden Fever (A79.1) can't affect too many people (unless it means those aghast at paying £12.25 to get in), and Pituitary snuff-taker's Disease (J67.8) is one from the history books - possibly joining with Pickwickian Syndrome (E66.2) in a Dicken's style illness, with a side-helping of Dabney's Grip (B33.0). Parrot Fever (A70) would be something for bird enthusiast's to avoid, as would the old favourite Bird-fancier's Lung (J67.2). Little-Leaguer's Elbow (M77.0) I can only imagine is restricted entirely to the United States, and for obvious reasons Norwegian Itch (B86) would concern Scandinavians especially (although it's actually another name for Scabies).

So what's the most dangerous job? It has to be the professional pub-quiz attendees who know every capital city, can tell you which countries border others, and the various long rivers or highest mountains. They might know all the answers, but they also run the risk of contracting Geographic Tongue (K14.1)

Previous DUaB ICD10 posts...

How to come to grief
A one-way trip to the vet

The Beautiful Game

2007-08-15T22:59:00.000Z

Roque Santa Cruz salutes the Rovers fans

Saturday's visit to Middlesbrough contained almost everything that I love about football, those small things that add up to one of those days you remember as a follower of a certain team for a long time. Right from the off, a 2hr train journey from Edinburgh to Darlington, which I managed to do in extreme comfort after finding a cheap first class ticket. I bet few Rovers fans on their way to Teeside began their trip sipping tea in a walnut-veneered train coach. Going to away games always involves plenty of waiting around, and standing on windy Darlington station waiting for the next leg was no exception. 40 minutes later and a knackered-looking two carriaged train to Saltburn took me to Middlesbrough, through typically Northern English countryside (vast Barrett Homes estates).

After indulging in the time-honoured tactic of walking the wrong way out of the station, turning around and following a few red-shirted home fans seemed to be the best way to go. Walking to the stadium is another moment - none of this driving to a vast car park and waddling to the game for us Brits. Turning the corner and seeing the floodlights is what it's all about, something easy to do at Middlesbrough as the stadium is surrounded by an industrial docklands wasteland and you can see it for miles (but harder at Blackburn, as Ewood Park is in a valley and you approach it level with the top of the grandstand). Everything else was there though, the bored looking policemen, burger vans, litter, seagulls.

Then the stadium rituals. Walk around the outside, have a quick look in the window of the club shop. Wonder what the home side's kit sponsor actually does (they make sat navs, apparently). Wander over to the statue of old time great and see if you've heard of him (not in my case). Check the ticket and find out which turnstile you have to enter in, as you spot a few groups of other away fans in the blue and white halves. Give the yellow-coated steward a quick nod, and in you go, through the clanking red gate. Always concrete inside, usually dark, and busy with men holding large plastic pints of lager. Go and find your seat and get a first look at the other team's stadium. Is it better than yours? (yes and no). More waiting.

As the pitch is finished being watered, the players jog out for warmups, with both sets of fans cheering - the away fans louder because that's what away fans do. The goalkeepers usually come out first, and you watch Rovers legend Brad Friedel going through stretches that he must have done thousands of times. He moves to the corner of the pitch and has two men volley balls at him from close range, as the outfield players trot out in warmup kits they only ever seem to wear for twenty minutes once a week. Friedel moves to the Rovers fans and signs autographs, posing for a photo with a young lad in a replica goalkeeper jersey. The others do sprints, the substitutes holding back, the older players even more so, Turkish playmaker and elder statesman Tugay barely jogging. He must not be in the lineup. As if on queue, the teams are announced (he isn't), and you cheer each name, stopping at the substitutes (for some reason). The players go off again.

Ten minutes later they are back. Now the stands are almost full, the stragglers making their way up the steps. Both teams walk under a pointless Premier League banner and stand facing outwards for a mysterious anthem. Someone up the back starts off the first chant of "Mark Hughes's Blue and White Army!!". A few home fans look over to where you're sitting, wondering how many Blackburn have brought, and how noisy they will be. The announcer reads out the teams again over the PA System, and you watch as they move to take up their positions in the 4-4-2, easily spotting Robbie Savage from his trademark blonde mullet. You scan across each player familiarising yourself again with what they look like - Friedel, Warnock, Samba (unmistakeable at 6'5''), Nelson, Ooijer (Emerton must be injured), Gamst Pedersen, Savage, Dunn, Bentley, Roberts, McCarthy. You barely know half the Middlesbrough team. The referee blows his whistle.

Rovers are on the back foot almost immediately as the home side press forward. The fans try and help them out, though. There are probably 1,800 compared to 24,000 Middlesbrough fans, but it's always away fans that make the noise. But Boro are playing really well, missing an open goal with a misplaced pass. Moaning starts from the Rovers fans (no change there), but we're making a lot of noise. On half an hour our Congolese giant Samba gives away a foul and their player whacks the ball through a gap in the wall into the bottom corner, putting the home side 1-0 up. At last, their fans start chanting - "You're not singing anymore!", they gloat. The score stays the same until halftime, and the players troop off, Savage arguing with the referee about awarding the freekick (which was entirely correct, not that he would admit).

Only fifteen minutes at the break, time to push through the crowds and go for a piss - they even have a steward in the toilet, I've not seen that before. Back up to the stands as the announcer reads out the other scores - Bolton are losing 3-0 at home to Newcastle, great stuff. But up here Newcastle are the enemy, not Bolton, so the home fans whistle and boo. All too soon, the second half starts, and immediately Rovers improve, ears stinging from a halftime rant from the manager. The chants continue, at a player if he does something good, at the lack of noise from the Boro fans, and at our rivals Burnley - "Your Mum's Your Dad, Your Dad's Your Mum, You're Interbred, You're Burnley Scum". Rovers miss an easy chance. Then the turning point, as star forward Benni McCarthy collapses after a clash of heads and is stretchered away in a neck brace, with both sets of fans sportingly applauding.

On comes Blackburn's new signing, the 25 year old Paraguayan Roque Santa Cruz. He's never played in England before, having arrived from the German giants Bayern Munich for £3.5m. After only two minutes on the pitch, Bentley swings the ball in, and up rises the new boy to head Rovers back level. It's just fantastic, you're jumping up and down and screaming, it's really hard to describe just what it feels like. Roque runs over to the area in front of you and punches the air, having become an instant hero. All the Boro fans are staring over, there are plenty of gestures going both ways. Goalscorer Roque runs back to the halfway line and waves at us, as a new chant starts - "You'd better watch out, You'd better beware, He's good on the ground and he's good in the air, Santa Cruz is coming...to town". Belted out, it sounds like the entire stadium is singing, although of course 95% of them are glumly looking over at you.

The players are rejuvenated - with the Rovers fans in full voice again and the home side rattled, it's all Blackburn. Another change, as Roberts goes off, and on comes 21 year old Blackburn-born striker Matt Derbyshire. Before the game he was chatting to friends in the stand, and as he runs on we chant his name. Amazingly, moments later he scores too - a wonder goal from the edge of the penalty area, lifted into the far corner of the net. All the players pause, not quite believing it, as it's Derbyshire's first contribution. In an instant, he starts running over to his friends as you go mental again, jumping up and down in the arms of the bloke next to you. All ten outfield Blackburn players are down celebrating with Derbyshire, who falls over trying a fancy celebration. It's tough to describe without sounding corny, but at that moment it's all you're concentrating on, and the group of people around you are ecstatic, punching the air and screaming. Nothing else seems to matter.

But it's not over yet as the long injury break means there's many minutes of added time. Buoyed on by the home fans, who in their desperation have become louder, they mount attack after attack - winning 13 corners over the course of the game. But Rovers hold on, and the feeling of relief when the whistle goes is almost unbeatable. More jumping around and cheering, and waving at the Boro fans as they make for the exits. Manager Mark Hughes points to us, telling his players to go and give their thanks - but many are already on their way. We mimic them as they applaud us, hands above their heads. As each one arrives, we chant his name, pointing at Brad Friedel as we do so, in a 'we're not worthy' style. It must look amazing from their perspective. Matt Derbyshire waits for his friends to come down, and he gets a great reception. Wait until the last one of them leaves, and then make for the exit.

Outside, huge crowds of people walking in every direction, most of them bitterly disappointed. But not you. The 4hr journey home doesn't seem so bad now, and your hands are still shaking, voice slightly going, as you join the throngs of red-shirted fans heading for the station.

Official Blackburn Rovers website
Middlesbrough 1 Blackburn Rovers 2 [BBC]
Video of Matt Derbyshire's winner [with Turkish commentary]

Royal Mail - you've made the list

2007-08-08T23:01:00.000Z

What does this mean to some people? Kerr-ching!

I was talking to a friend of mine the other day, and they were saying that this blog is always positive and full of the good things - but what about the negative? I guess most regular readers would know that I like travelling, pies, and so forth, but not what pisses me off. Well in a week where the Royal Mail have been dicking us about by not delivering mail - especially those of us waiting on birthday cards and important football tickets, they have been quite rightly added to the list. Why do people think "stuff gets lost in the post all the time. Hey, it's unfortunate, but what can you do?" I tell you what you can do, you can stop using the bloody Royal Mail, that's what you can do. I paid £25 for the ticket for Saturday's opening Rovers match at Middlesbrough and it mysteriously fails to arrive. Shower of bastards.

What else annoys me? Pointless film remakes. There. Hairspray is out now in the UK, a re-working of the musical from 2002, that was based on the original film of 1988. Why? What's the point? The new 2007 version cost $75m to make. Seventy five million dollars. If it had never been made, would the world be a worse place, even in the slightest? Not all all. A screenwriter redrafts a 19yr old script, John Travolta parks his 767 at the fat-suit modellers, and 117 minutes of vapid 'entertainment' is lazily transferred onto celluloid. And I don't just mean to pick on Hairspray - do we really, honestly, need a new Superman? A new King Kong? What about a new Evil Dead, a new 12 Angry Men, a new Bullitt? How can they possibly be any better? This is why I don't go to the cinema.

TV adverts that are on every commercial break make me want to throw things. "What do trees mean to you?" I must have seen that a dozen times tonight and I still couldn't tell you what it's selling. I tell you what trees mean to me - clearly they are intrinsic to the functioning of a balanced ecosystem, they provide food, shelter and numerous other products to humans and animals, they look rather nice, sometimes things get stuck in them, I fell out of one once, some of them flower in the summer, and others get decorated in the winter, they make a hell of a sound when they fall over, and I always seem to get my golf ball stuck behind one. That's what trees mean to me, you ponytailed advertising morons. And while we're on the subject, who puts greek yoghurt on their Weetabix? Who?

What else? What about....people talking on phones on public transport? I know many people hate others wearing headphones and tinny music - but I wonder if those people had ever thought that the entire coach/carriage/bus doesn't really care what you got up to at the weekend? I'll be happy to listen to my iPod and forget you can even speak, you vacuous idiots. If you're meeting up with your friends tonight, why do you need to tell them now things you're going to repeat later? And don't read Harry Potter if you're over 20, for god's sake. Read Moby Dick or The Big Sleep, or something. Oh, and if you like to walk out of shops into busy pavements and promptly stop without warning, don't be surprised when you get crashed into by pedestrians who actually know where they are going and yet can think clearly about other things at the same time. And don't have a go at traffic wardens, they aren't the problem. Wankers who park illegally and get annoyed when they get caught are.

I'm going on a bit here, so I'll summarise the rest. Sick people smoking - every day at the hospital I see them lined up outside the cancer centre puffing away, getting ever nearer to becoming a statistic on my database...People who speed up to nip through traffic lights, as if they can't spare twenty seconds of their fabulously important existances...Currys Digital - it is seriously the worst shop known to humanity - I never thought I'd find somewhere that makes PC World look like Selfridges...Fernando Alonso, who left Renault F1 because he wanted a challenge and now can't handle it, nine races in...Charity collectors who come in pubs - controversial maybe, but I give money to charity, I shouldn't be cornered in a pub...Pretentious Edinburgh festival pillocks...Mixing raisins with nuts - fantastic on their own, but who dreamed up the idea of combining them in bags? And in chocolate?...The Premiership 'big four', there are 88 other league teams you know, as much as I like reading about Chelsea and Man Utd every day...Shitty badly talented musical artists landing record deals when far-more talented people I know have not...Anyone who reads the Daily Mail...Rugby...Dogs...I think that's it. Thanks for listening...

[edit - definately not on the list are the good people at Blackburn Rovers FC, who I phoned about my missing ticket. They have faxed Middlesbrough and asked them to print me a duplicate ticket I can pick up at the stadium on the day of the match. See Royal Mail? That's called Customer Service.]

Another year...

2007-08-03T09:23:00.000Z

Thanks for all your birthday wishes and cards, I've taken the day off work today - I really think your birthday should be a free holiday if it falls during the week (someone start a petition!). I'm out doing some of the finer things in life - golfing in the sunshine, drinking with friends, that kind of thing. A far cry from 2006 when I was in Boston for my 30th and melting in the heatwave; or 2005, when I was treated to a fancy lunch by my Sydney workmates. But 2007 can be special in other ways - like the Queen, I've decided to commission a painting of myself. Only instead of Rolf Harris, I got my old mate Matt Groening to immortalise me...

SimpsonSizeMe

The Real Seven Wonders

2007-07-29T23:17:00.000Z

1. The Great Wall of China
This is one that nobody can argue with - not even the highly dodgy text vote denied the Great Wall a place in the New Seven Wonders - although the fact that it exists in the most populous country on Earth can't have hurt it. The largest and longest human-built structure ever, it stretches for 4000 miles along the arc of Inner Mongolia. I've not been there, but it's certainly on my list. Rather naievely I thought there was just one, but apparently there have been a few constructed over the years, the most famous and well-preserved being that from the Ming Dynasty, built after they were walloped by the Mongols in 1449. Sadly, the fact that you can see it from the moon is completely wrong - the smallest individual landmark recongisable is Australia - and even from space it's tough to spot, American astronaut William Pogue thought he spotted it from Skylab, but was later told he was peering intently at a canal in Beijing.

2. Kyoto Station
Next time you're struggling across Birmingham New Street, just think it could be far more difficult. Kyoto station is a vast monument to Japan's favourite pastime - travel - and is one of the country's largest buildings (although amazingly not the largest station, Nagoya's is even mightier). Thirty-five platforms for above-ground trains, plus all the subway going on underneath, it also has 15 floors of shops and offices on top, all enclosed in a gleaming cubical structure that boggles the mind. Opened in 1997 to commemorate Kyoto's 1200th anniversary, it sits uneasily with many locals in their genteel, historic city. But arriving on the Shinkansen and walking into the arrivals hall, it's incredible. You just keep looking up...and up...and up. In the photo above, each kink in the escalator at the top is a separate storey. If the Death Star had a train station, it would look like this.

3. The Nazca Lines
Or as UNESCO has them, the "Lines and Geoglyphs of Nasca and Pampas de Jumana". I'm amazed these drawings weren't on the shortlist of the New Seven wonders thing, they certainly should be. This monkey is 100m across, and is one of the most famous of the figures. The Nazcans removed the dark coloured stones and then trampled the undersoil to give the white outline - but why is a complete mystery. Loony 'experts' have tried to reason that they are the work of alien spacecraft and so forth, as they seem to have been made to be seen from the air, a viewpoint the Nazcans could not have had (which I've got to say is a good point). There are several hundred lines, and seventy recognisable figures, all spread over an area of 200 miles (including a whale - not often seen in a Peruvian desert), and the most widely-held view is that they were parts of a religious ceremony relating to water and crops. And monkeys.

4. Preston Bus Station
'Brutalist Architecture' gets a tough press. The 1960's spawned many a concrete monstrosity, but all that was forgiven in 1968 when the sleepy Lancastrian county town woke up to find this for a transport hub. Preston Bus Station, the longest in Europe (take that, Bratislava!), certainly the most confusing to the eye - it looks like it goes off into the horizon for a thousand miles. It has a capacity for 80 double-decker buses and 1100 cars, with the scalloped edging protecting people from the frequent elements as they wait. Appallingly, this wonder is scheduled for demolition, as it's old and hard to get to, and not 'functional'. Well, neither are the Nazca Lines, Preston City Council - would you demolish those too? Save Preston Bus Station!! (local fact - there's actually no number 40 service, the bus parked there will be an additional 35 service to Tanterton waiting for the correct bay to become free).

5. Fushimi-Inari Taisha
Inari is the Shinto god of rice, and as such in Japan there are shrines to him everywhere - but none more stunning than the Fushimi Inari shrine south of Kyoto. The vermilion-coloured torii gates are instantly recognisable symbols of Japan, and mark the entrance to a sacred spot - just one, usually. Fushimi has tens of thousands, stretched over a wooded hill en route to the shrine. They are squashed in, touching each other, like orange dominos - it would take you two hours to walk under them all. I went there one evening in 2005, when the light was just going, and wandered up the hill through this tunnel for about an hour, catching glimpses of trees, lanterns, and small statues of foxes (Inari's messengers), but only glimpses, it was like walking along a mine tunnel. I don't have a spiritual bone in me, but it was utterly breathtaking.

6. Bully's Prize Board
Just think about this one - it had a dart board, a question board, and the prize board - and in the time it took to revolve many rash decisions were made. Of course, they were all either prefaced with "Well Jim, we've had a lovely day..." (take the prizes), or "Well Jim, we came here with nothing..." (gamble!). But would you take a chance at 101 or more with six darts (non-dart player to throw first), and risk losing your Grundig hifi, spin dryer, and set of patio furniture? You've got all the time in the world to throw that first dart - but if it goes wrong, Jim shows you - and he hates to, but he has to - he shows you what you could have won. And when that beige Austin Maestro, or sparkling speedboat is wheeled out, and the studio audience groan, you've got nothing but your tankards and bully's, and your BFH to show for it. But that is the gamble of Bullseye...

7. Scarlett Johansson
I suppose techincally she would be a natural wonder of the world...

Satellite images of the Great Wall of China
YouTube clip from the top of Preston Bus Station
Bullseye on Wikipedia
Photographs of Fushimi Inari Taisha

DUaB's Seven Wonders of Scotland

Ant Day

2007-07-24T19:37:00.000Z

In time honoured fashion, today being about a week shy of my birthday and surprisingly humid, it was Ant Day. The single mass event when silky-winged females pile out of colonies and bumble around on the pavements always seems to happen at this time. So to celebrate, here's a post in their short-lived honour...

Trap-jaw ant

Ants are found in almost every habitat on Earth, and in some numbers - there are an estimated 1,000 trillion ants living on the planet at any given moment, representing 11,800 known species. The total weight of all ants on the planet roughly equal the weight of us humans. Articles like this one prove how spectacular they can be. The Trap-jaw Ant springs it's mouthparts shut at over 100kmh (60mph), the fastest recorded moving predatory body part in the animal kingdom (now there's an awards ceremony to avoid). In typical adaptive fashion, the ants don't just use this to impress lady ants, they use it to move around. The ants sometimes bite the ground, the force of which pings them upwards and launches them several centimetres. They are too light to be injured by the fall - the equivalent of us jumping hundreds of feet - and don't just do it move around, the 'popcorn' effect of many leaping ants confuses would-be predators.

The trap is sprung

Ants also dominate the other land-living invertebrates, making up one-third of the global insect biomass. In tropical rainforests they can compromise an amazing 15% of the total biomass of animals found there. They can be as tiny as the millimeter-long Oligomyrmex atomus or as big as the 1.5 inch-long Dinoponera. We've all seen nature documentaries of rampaging tides of jungle Army Ants wiping clean strips of forest floor, causing even large mammals to flee before them. But there are other, more inventive ways these creatures catch their dinner. Some of them construct elaborate 'torture chambers', using a specially-cultivated fungus. Allomerus decemarticulatus, only 2mm long, cut hairs from the stem of the plant they inhabit, and weave the fibres into a spongy snare which they glue into place using the sticky mould. The ants nibble small holes in this fake platform, and a worker sits patiently in each, jaws at the ready. Anything landing on the 'branch' with thin enough legs is immediately grabbed, and pulled into several holes at once, trapping it. Other ants then swarm out from under the platform and butcher the victim, which has been stretched out like on a medieval rack. First reported in Nature, there are amazing pictures of the behaviour here.

Gliding Ant

Ants evolved from the Vespoid group of wasps in the Cretaceous period about 120 to 170 million years ago. Only about 1 in 10 genera alive then is extinct now. To become such a successful group of animals, you need to be intelligent and able to adapt to your habitat. Ants commonly live in trees, scampering in orderly lines along branches. If they fall, or are knocked off (or flicked off by scientists), they face almost certain death alone on the forest floor prowled by many predators not found in the canopy. So one type of ant has evolved a large head (nicknamed the 'Darth Vader' ant) to combat this - and teeth to get back at the scientists (photo above). The ant falls for a few metres, then swivels in the air to orient it's abdomen towards the tree trunk. The air flowing over the large head slows down the tumbling ant, and swing it's trajectory inwards, causing it to sail back to the tree and land safely. This is the first documented example of gliding flight in a living wingless insect, and the first record of intentional backwards gliding in any animal. Link

Tandem running in action

While many types of animals can learn behaviors by imitating other animals, ants may be the only group of animals besides mammals in which interactive teaching behavior has been observed. When Temnothorax albipennis forager ants find a food source they scuttle back to the nest and grab a hivemate. They then lead the new ant to the food in a process called 'tandem running'. The ant in front darts off to the food, but the new ant slows up now and again to fix it's positon by spotting landmarks. The first ant has to keep stopping and waiting to be caught up - having it's legs tapped when the second ant has memorised where it is and is ready to continue. This takes far longer than if the sole ant ran backwards and forwards to the food - but now two ants know where it is, and often the followers become guides to other ants in turn, and soon the colony as a whole knows where the booty is. The teamwork these creatures show is amazing. Sometimes they decide the foodstuff is too juicy to adopt this clever but costly technique, and returning ants simply grab another and carry it on it's back to the goodies. The second ant won't know the route to the prize, but the ants will get there quickly and secure their food before other colonies arrive to claim it. This remarkable adaptability sets ant apart. If they ever learn to use guns and drive tanks, we're done for...

Why ants rule the world
Ants on Wikipedia
Ant photos

What's the time?

2007-07-19T18:45:00.000Z

Shinsoku

6:35, in case you were wondering. Ever since the days of the clunky calculator watches in the mid-80's, which had buttons so tiny they were practically impossible, crazy timepieces have come of age. One of the best exponents are Tokyo Flash, who supply online the wackier end of the market from Japan. The Shinsoku - as with many others - comes with a booklet describing how to read the hours and minutes. Handy, especially if someone asks you what the time is and you just stand there with a furrowed brow saying things like "Er. It's...erm...er". The red LED lights are hours, the green 15mins, and the yellow single minutes. Six red + 2 green + 5 yellow = 6:35. Morning or evening you can probably work out yourself. Shinsoku

The JLr7

10:37. No, I have no idea how, either. This beauty is from geometric designers Eri & Eiichi, and wouldn't look out of place on the green-blooded wrist of the boldly-going Mr Spock. The L-shaped digital bits light up to reveal the time - and I had to stare at the pictures like someone doing one of those colourblindness tests (which I always fail), before I could see that some of the L's are blue. The dark grey markings distinguish these sections, as the hour is represented by ten blue L segments at the top of the watch. Rather brilliantly, "Between 6pm & Midnight the watch animates automatically every 15 mins to give the effect that it is malfunctioning (this feature can be turned off)". Just be careful when setting the alarm. JLr7

Neatnik by Alba

2:58. This one's almost a doddle by comparison - a limited edition of only 1000 made by Alba. I mention it because it's 2cm across the face. Make a little square with your fingers 2cm in size. You could probably wear it on your finger. Neatnik

Titan

11:52am. A space theme to the Titan watch from S-Mode, the lights don't spin or move, they just sit there glowing like distant planets. The large outer ring are hours - and unusually for Japanese watches it's actually the same layout as on a standard clockface. The inner square is ten-minute intervals, the other small circle individual minutes, and the larger square AM or PM. You know, I think I'm getting the hang of this. Titan

Star Performer

Ah. Still with the space theme, Star Performer lights up one column for each number, so 07:34 would have the 0, the 7, the 3 and the 4 illuminated in turn. Amusingly, as this is made by a company called Pimp watches, the flashes and craziness are ramped to the extreme. According to their explanation, "The Pimp mode light up function lights up all the lights in a fireworks like manner and automatically turns on at 7:00 PM and turns off at 1:00 AM (It can not be switched off). Gives the watch a look like it is malfunctioning, very cool!" Translation - be prepared to answer the question "Why is your watch doing that?" every night of every day. Star Performer

LED from Binary watches

Pass. A binary LED watch - and who doesn't love telling the time in binary? As the website says, this is a geek's dream. I have absolutely no idea how to work it though. I'll leave it to them to explain how to tell the time. "It couldn't get any geekier than this, you've got to love it. How to read time : Hours addition : 3rd LED +4th LED (from Left) = 2 + 1 = 3. Minutes addition : 1st LED+ 3rd LED ( from Left) = 32 + 8 = 40 => 03:40". Righto. Things have come a long way since the Casio digital watch... LED

Tokyo Flash

The New 7 Wonders

2007-07-15T12:27:00.000Z

On my list, not theirs...

It's now a week since the glitzy spectacular at the home ground of Benfica announced the 'new' wonders of the world. In case you missed it, the lucky seven are:-

The Great Wall of China
The stone city of Petra
Christ the Redeemer, Rio de Janeiro
Machu Picchu
Chichen Itza, Mexico
The Colosseum, Rome
The Taj Mahal

Reaction has been decidedly mixed - whilst the organisers claim an unmitigated success, with over 100 million votes cast, critics have weighed in from all directions. The Egyptians are still piqued about the original inclusion of the Giza pyramids, UNESCO are seething that this 'competition' has run against their lengthy world heritage listings, and of course representatives of the losers are wondering how the top 7 made it. In fact, the people responsible for looking after two of the winners - the Chichen Itza ruins in Mexico and Machu Picchu in Peru - have described their fears at escalating visitor traffic leading to increased erosion.

As I said in my previous post, the voting was decidedly sketchy in places. The voting was conducted for free online, or by SMS messaging, which was unlimited but with a charge. Block votes could be bought by any individual, organisation or government. The situation in Brazil was a good example of what happened - according to an investigation by Newsweek, Brazilian banks spent millions of dollars buying votes, and the Brazilian telecommunications sector waived the fee for telephone voters to get public support. At one point, every Rio resident with a phone got a text asking them to send a free vote for their local nominee. 10 million votes later, the statue of Christ the Redeemer was a New Wonder of the World.

Actually, I don't think there's anything wrong with that at all. Holding a public vote - accessible only by those with phones or the internet - is such a baseless way of conducting a survey that it encourages the wealthy and clever to come out on top. The Queen of Jordan repetedly went on television there urging her people to vote for the stone city of Petra. In the end, 14m votes were recorded from the country (which has a population of 7 million). I can never imagine her doing so, but if our Queen went on primetime asking us to vote for Stonehenge, it would have received far more votes. But she was too busy storming out of photo shoots (or not). This kind of thing always happens in public votes - we got an email round at work requesting our votes for one of the contestants on the BBC's Joseph talent show thing, because his cousin worked in our building (or something). Any dream will have to do for him, as he didn't win.

But assuming I did value the New7 exercise, I think I would probably have voted for the following:-

The Great Wall - impossible to argue with this choice
The Taj Mahal - the story alone would be enough, I think
Machu Picchu - I've not been there but it looks impressive
Easter Island Moais - baffling as to how they didn't get in the list
Stonehenge - older than the original seven wonders
Eiffel Tower - it defines one of the world's greatest cities
The Sydney Opera House - I used to walk past it on the way to work

There you go, I think the best anyone can ay about the New7 contest is that it was a harmless exercise. Ignoring the widespread buying of block votes, of course. As I predicted last time, on opening the travel guide in yesterday's weekend paper, there was an article about the stone city of Petra, one of 'the new seven wonders of the world'. All the New7 might get more visitors as a result, but I don't think any of the losers will get substantially fewer - and this might suit a lot of them, as tourists increase everywhere. Still, it got people talking and gave me something to write about, I guess. Next time it's my much anticipated 'real' seven wonders of the world - I'm still waiting for the votes to come in...(and if any representatives of Blackburn Rovers are reading, I'd be willing to include Ewood Park in my top 7 in exchange for free tickets).

Oh, and with blinding inevitability, the New7 organisers used the glittering finale to announce a fresh competition - to find the New Seven Wonders of the Natural World. It closes on the 8th of August 2008, so get those texting fingers ready!

The Argyll Coast

2007-07-10T21:23:00.000Z

Shell Beach just outside the Argyll fishing port of Tarbert. I've just come back from a long weekend of golfing and drinking, with a bit of wandering around thrown in. We had classic Scottish weather - everything from continuous heavy rain to dazzling sunshine. Tarbert is famous for it's seafood, and the apparently famous annual seafood festival happened one day before we arrived. This picture was taken on Sunday, when a stop for something to eat on a beach gave a great opportunity for photos.

Opportunities like this - an unfortunate crab that came to a swift end at the claws of an otter or seabird, or something. Artfully arranged, of course, as it was scattered over the rocks on the beach. In the background is the flat blueness of Loch Fyne, which at 40 miles long is one of the biggest in Scotland. At any one time you can see seals, otters, dolphins, eagles and basking sharks here - but for us, just a highly separated crab.

The town is seemingly surrounded by lochs, with West Loch Tarbert only a short hop over the hill. This is one of the three golf courses we played over the weekend, and the most picturesque by far. The land bridge between these two long sea lochs is only about a mile - probably one of the reasons Tarbert was started in that location. Vikings used to portage their longboats across this course on their way from sea to sea.

Further up the Argyll coast is Crinan, another stunning village. Loch Fyne is connected to Loch Crinan here with a quaint canal. Nine miles long, it connects the village of Ardrishaig on Loch Gilp with the Sound of Jura, giving boats a quick route between the Clyde and the Inner Hebrides. Otherwise, it's a long detour south around the Mull of Kintyre. There are few better spots for a Sunday lunch than the Crinan hotel, watching the fancy boats struggle through the lochs over a few pints and some local seafood.

Of course, it was Scotland, so the sunny weather only lasted so long...

Seven of the best

2007-07-03T23:52:00.000Z

The Eiffel Tower needs your help! (or not)

The world will never be quite the same after this weekend. A lavish ceremony resembling the opening night of the Olympic Games will be held in Portugal to reveal the final results of (currently) 70 million public votes. The New Seven Wonders of the World will be presented to the grateful global populace (with a couple of significant objectors - but more on them later) with all the pomp of the Eurovision song contest. Brainchild of Swiss industrialist Bernard Weber and his 'New Open World Corporation' - who sound like the evil media empire Pierce Brosnan toppled in Tomorrow Never Dies - the New 7 (as they are abbreviated) will join the other rollcalls of whopping majesty on the 7th of July in Lisbon.

There are more of those than you would think, too. The Seven Ancient Wonders, of course, and the Seven Natural Wonders (Grand Canyon, Barrier Reef, Rio harbour, Mount Everest, the polar aurora, Parícutin volcano and the Victoria Falls). There's the Seven Wonders of the Middle Ages (Stonehenge, Colosseum, Catacombs of Kom el Shoqafa (?), Great Wall of China, Porcelain Tower at Nanjing, the Hagia Sophia, and the leaning tower of Pisa), the Seven Wonders of the Modern World (the Channel Tunnel, CN Tower, Empire State Building, Golden Gate Bridge, Itaipu Dam, Panama Canal, and the Dutch land reclamation works), and the Seven Underwater Wonders (Palau, the Great Barrier Reef, the Beleize Barrier Reef, undersea vents, the Galapagos Islands, Lake Baikal, the Northern Red Sea).

So why do we need another list? Well - we don't, according to the universally accepted guardians of the world's wonders, UNESCO. They released a stinging statement at their recent meeting in Christchurch (during which they elevated 21 more sites to World Heritage status - now making 851). It read ...There is no comparison between Mr Weber’s mediatised campaign and the scientific and educational work resulting from the inscription of sites on UNESCO’s World Heritage List. The list of the “7 New Wonders of the World” will be the result of a private undertaking, reflecting only the opinions of those with access to the internet and not the entire world. This initiative cannot, in any significant and sustainable manner, contribute to the preservation of sites elected by this public. Ouch.

I can see their point, too. UNESCO send teams of earnest inspectors to places like the 'Ecosystem and Relict Cultural Landscape of Lopé-Okanda' (a recent listee, from Gabon), whilst Herr Weber gets a flashy website and SMS vote to garner millions upon millions of votes. It's the classic stuffy beaurocrats versus modern media types battle. You can register and vote for the New 7 for free (online), if you vote by phone or SMS it costs you an international call. Cleverly, while the free votes are capped at seven, you can send as many texts as you like, enabling those who have an interest to 'buy' extra votes. So who has an interest? Well, even if it's not recognised by UNESCO, having a 'New' wonder of the world in your country would be a huge boost for tourism, at the very least.

So what are the sites in the running? Twenty-one possible candidates were selected into a shortlist from 77 nominations. They are...

The Acropolis (Athens, Greece)

The Alhambra (Granada, Spain)

Angkor Wat (Angkor, Cambodia)

Chichen Itza (Yucatan, Mexico)

Christ the Redeemer (Rio de Janiero, Brazil)

Colosseum (Rome, Italy)

Easter Island Moais (Easter Island, Chile)

The Eiffel Tower (Paris, France)

The Great Wall (China)

The Hagia Sophia (Istanbul, Turkey)

Kiyomizu-dera (Kyoto, Japan)

The Kremlin and St Basil's Square (Moscow, Russia)

Macchu Picchu (Cuzco, Peru)

Neuschwanstein Castle (Füssen, Germany)

The stone city of Petra (Jordan)

The Pyramids of Giza (Giza, Egypt)

The Statue of Liberty (New York City, USA)

Stonehenge (Amesbury, UK)

The Sydney Opera House (Sydney, Australia)

The Taj Mahal (Agra, India)

Timbuktu (Mali)

Some worthy candidates there, certainly. Like the Pyramids at Giza, for example, which are of course the only surviving member of the original Seven Wonders. Their entry on the shortlist caused a huge kerfuffle in Egypt - as the politicians there (and this has become depressingly political) quite understandably argued that they shouldn't suffer the indignity of having to win their place again, having already been sitting proudly in the original list (which incidentally was thought up by a single person, Philon of Byzantium, in 200BC). So the pyramids were hastily given 'honorary status', and removed from the voting. The historic stone city of Petra was lagging down the order until the King of Jordan apparently went on telly there and urged the citizens to text support for their entrant. I don't remember seeing Queeny do that for Stonehenge, eh?

That's an odd one too - Stonehenge was built before any of the original seven wonders, and here it is trying to replace them, despite being on the medieval list. I dunno, it doesn't make sense to me (and I love lists). You can just imagine the glossy tourist brochures proclaiming Come and SEE the New Wonder of the World!!! for the winners, as the losers sit there, with nothing to shout about. I've nothing against this kind of thing in principal - I had a great time years ago at Bodrum poking about the ruins of the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus (mostly pretending to be Indiana Jones). It's just the predictably modern spin that's been put on it, the SMS charges (only 50% of which go to a heritage restoration fund), and the fact that 'organisations and governments' can allegedly block-buy votes. What's the point? I agree with UNESCO.

Next week I'll bring you the results, who I would have voted for, and my real New Seven Wonders of the World...

New Seven Wonders Website
UNESCO 'not involved' in New Seven Wonders
Opera House 'fading' in race to be New Wonder [Sydney Morning Herald]
Taj Mahal - not so wonderful? [BBC]

Ooh! Fancybags!

2007-06-25T18:53:00.000Z

The Dior Golf Bag in all it's glory

Manufacturers and advertisers are in the business of making us buy things - and they use many techniques to get the average person to relent and purchase. One of these is the fake-tech factor, i.e. making something mundane seem mega exciting and revolutionary. I mention this because I recently realised I needed a new golf bag. Partly because the handle on my trusty white and red Slazenger bag gave way during a recent round (almost spilling my clubs on the fairway*), and partly because I was watching a 1987 rerun of Bullseye on FTN and one of the rewards behind Bully's Prize Board (I think it was iiiiiiiiin five) was a set of golf clubs in a familiar-looking white and red bag. Given that one of the other prizes was a Sega Master System, I think my bag had passed cutting-edge status many years ago.

So time for a change then, and as with every other shopping decision I make (bar shuffling around Waitrose looking for the cheap stuff), it was time to go online and see what was new in the world of golf bag technology. Firstly, I seemed to be old-fashioned in the view that they are just a place to chuck your clubs and lug them from one poor shot to another. These days they are precision engineered pieces of sporting equipment, designed to give you that edge over the elements and the competition. The possibilities are endless - combinations of pockets, straps, dividers, whether you want a stand bag or a cart bag, single support or double support, which manufacturer you want to go with, and of course the all important factor - the colour. Not so many white and red designs out there at the moment, and Slazenger don't seem to do bags anymore (maybe the humiliation of being a Bullseye prize got to them).

The Lynx Parallax bag gives itself away immediately, with "...Thermoformed handles for manoeuvrability, particularly when getting the Lynx Parallax in and out of the car." (a touch on the heavy side?) - but it does have an internal pencil holder. Also in the Lynx range is the Prowler, which sports an "Exterior thermoformed plastic tee peg holder and unique golf ball holder." - so pencil on the inside, or tee peg on the outside? It's the perennial golfer's dilemma. The official Lynx website describes it as having a "fur-lined valuables pouch". Seeing as the European Lynx is almost extinct, I was pleased to find out later that the 'fur' is actually velour, as used to make the uniforms from Star Trek (I looked that up - I may be blogging about golf accessories, but I'm not that sad).

At the top end of the range (one for the golf pun enthusiasts there), you have the stunning Christian Dior argyle golf bag (pictured above), desribed on the website I saw as "...the perfect addition to any chic-going golfing gal." A snip, at US $1,679. You'd have to be one seriously brave golfer to take that out to the municipal courses of East Lothian, I can tell you, gal or no gal. Other fashion designers have created similar models, and there are a few all-leather bags out there (100% American Steer, apparently) - but as the authentic manufacturer's products can slip into the three-figure price range, you can get a 'luxury' bag from a bona fide golfing make. The Ping T9.5, for example, as used by "golfers who want to leave little doubt as to their brand allegiance" (i.e. PING is written in enormous writing on the side of it).

Cupholders sell cars, and they also sell golf bags. The brilliantly named Ping Hoofer Vantage has an "...insulated pocket that keeps water and other refreshments cool during a round." (as well as a 'durable velour soft cover to help prevent shaft scratches'). I wonder what they can mean by 'other refreshments'? A quick glance in the tee-side bins at our usual golf course answers that question - and bags such as the Cold Fury II cater for that type of golfer - it has "...two detachable 6-pack cooler pockets". Highly tempting - but then so is the "Custom logo bottom ball pocket [zip-off]" on the Callaway X-Series, and the mobile phone charging ability of the Soldius Solar Powered Golf Bag.

In the end, it came down to one of two choices. The TaylorMade Mag F1 Bag comes with "...840 Denier Ballistic Nylon with polyurethane carbon fiber accents, a 14 way spoke and rim club organizer, a racing harness strap system with TaylorMade metal medallion, 14 way spoke and rim club organizer, and louver expansion pocket with Neoprene gussets. The Mag F1 also comes with TaylorMade silicone logo’d pocket pull tabs, TaylorMade sonic weld logo applications, and "T" Icon wire mesh logo applique." Hmmm. Choice B was the aformentioned Lynx Prowler - and not just because it "...provides many benefits to the gofler who likes to carry their golf clubs, but in comfort." Also not because of the 'carabineer towel ring', or the 'padded dual shoulder strap system'. No, let's face it - I'm a sucker for velour (but who isn't?). So it had to be the Lynx Prowler...

*I was walking over the fairway from one patch of rough to another.

Roll over Beethoven...

2007-06-18T23:12:00.000Z

Dangermouse and Penfold in action

I was flicking through the paper today when I half saw an article featuring a picture of comedian Peter Kay and Leonardo da Vinci - not a double act you see very often. Turns out it was about a recent Arts Awards survey, which asked several thousand people to name their 'heroes in the arts'. As it happened the Bolton funnyman polled fifth, whilst the Renaissance decorator came out on top. You can imagine the teeth-gnashing in the broadsheets. "Banksy above Picasso? Walt Disney above Jane Austen?" Even more so with the shock absence of Shakespeare, Dickens and Michaelangelo. The overall top ten arts heroes were revealed as: -

1 Leonardo da Vinci
2 Bob Dylan
3 Andy Warhol
4 Walt Disney
5 Peter Kay
6 Jane Austen
7 Banksy
8 Bob Marley
9 Nick Park
10 Picasso

Good to see a fellow Prestonian in the top list there (Nick Park, creator of Wallace and Gromit; freeman of the city). Of course, this is such a colossally pointless exercise. I'm not sure what the constraints were, but everyone has different personal definitions of 'hero'; and 'art' for that matter. I happen to believe Leonardo was a genius, a true legendary figure in human history. But he's not a hero of mine. I also think Peter Kay is a genius (and I wonder what he makes of an appearance in the top five?), but he's not a 'hero of the arts' either. So what would be my top ten? Bearing in mind Hero is described as "a person who is admired or idealised for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities...", and as a youngster growing up, my heroes wouldn't be playwrights or painters. So here are my own personal Heroes in the Arts...

Sir David Attenborough
At the top of any list of heroes, this man is a national treasure. Legendary naturalist and broadcaster, he changed the face of nature television and documentary making, and is still going aged 81. His new series, Life in Cold Blood, covers reptiles and amphibians and will once again be required viewing for anybody with an interest in the world around us. I hope it's many, many years from now - but when his time comes - a national day of mourning far more deserved than any vacuous royal should be given for him.

Boba Fett
Tough for me to include 10 heroes from the arts, and only one from the Star Wars films. As I went on about recently, they defined my childhood - and Boba Fett was the man. He came to an unfortunate end in the Sarlacc Pit, but before then he calmly stood in the shadows and watched, he never spoke, everybody feared him, and he could fire rockets from his elbows. He managed to capture the second coolest man in space (Han Solo), for crying out loud. And he could fly. Charging around the playground at Queen's Drive junior back in the mid-80's, I wasn't pretending to be Luke Skywalker.

The A Team
The greatest television show ever, bar none. With a moral message about teamwork and respect repeatedly rammed home every Saturday afternoon, the fantastic foursome dominated weekends for youngsters everywhere. Family-friendly, with catastrophic gunfights, car crashes, and even plane crashes causing occupants to stagger out, slightly limping, the A Team always came to the rescue of the little guy. Every episode was essentially the same - downtrodden locals, rich evil man with M-16 toting goons, a pretty girl for Face to get off with, Murdoch annoying Mr T, a mechanical montage, Hannibal in 'disguise' - "who let this one-eyed tinker past the guards?", someone being thrown through a window, and the plan always coming together.*

Hal and Roger Hunt
Not just television on my list of course - from the field of literature come the Hunt brothers, stars of Willard Price's 'Adventure' series of novels. Think the Hardy Boys with animals. No preppy New England crimefighting here, the Hunts travelled the world catching animals for their father's Long Island zoo (Price wrote most of them in the 1950's and 60's). Each was disctinctly titled - Amazon Adventure, South Sea Adventure, Volcano Adventure. Featuring suspect natives, cannibals, and even an entire book about whaling, they might not be PC these days, but for a ten year old boy there's little better.

Terry Nutkins
Missing out on the black and white era of children's TV, I never saw Johnny Morris do his thing - but our generation had a more than adequate replacement. He didn't transpose comic voices onto animals, as that sort of thing didn't wash in the more cynical 1980's. Instead, Terry Nutkins presented countless kid's wildlife shows by sitting in a studio gamely clinging to whatever it was he was talking about. Whether it was a goose, a cheetah cub, or a Amazonian pangolin, he'd be grappling with it as the thing tried to bolt for the shadows, yet at the same time reeling off all kinds of facts. He had extra gravitas as he only had 8 fingers, having lost two to a rogue otter some years before. Respect, Terry.

Gary Chalk
More literary heroes here, and an artist in my list. Not Picasso or Warhol, but a man who started out drawing black and white pictures for an obscure series of adventure books. The Lone Wolf series of what are sometimes described as 'choose your own' adventures, first came to our attention in 1984 with Flight from the Dark. The books, where you go through the story by making decisions and turning to the appropriate page to continue, are non-existant now - but were huge back then - Flight from the Dark sold 100,000 copies in it's first month of release. Written by Joe Dever, the fantastic pictures were drawn by Gary Chalk, and my Dad used to read them out to my brother and me, and we would bicker about what we should do next. It's one of my fondest childhood memories, and Chalk's illustrations brought it all to life.

Tony from Bullseye
Recently voted the 11th most important Tony in British history (I kid you not, he finished between Tony Benn and Tony Hart), Tony Green was - and still is - the voice of Bullseye. The second part of the most ultimate Saturday night lineup ever, on right after the A-Team, Bullseye is of course the seminal darts-related gameshow. Jim Bowen was the host and drole miserablist (and my Dad can tell a story about him that would be libellous if I were to repeat it here), so Tony the scorer was the ray of light. How much of a hero was he? Just read his catchphrases, as listed on his Wikipedia entry..."It's a Bullseye! And here's your host, Jiiiim Bowen" "OK, Take your time. Nice and easy. Nice and easy..." "Iiiiiiiin one" "Ohhhhhh... that's the gamble I'm afraid." "Best o'luck." "...and Bully's special prize..." "One Hundred and Eiiiighhtyyy"

Gordon the Gopher
Possibly stretching the definition of the word hero here, but I would say Gordon the Gopher was admired for his noble qualities. He didn't have much courage, admittedly - especially that famous clip of him being menaced by a puppy, which still has me in stitches when I see it. If you have no idea what I'm on about, Gordon was a puppet gopher used as a sidekick to children's TV host Phillip Schofield in the BBC broom cupboard, many years ago. He wore a leather jacket, squeaked a lot, and generally ruled the roost. Replaced cruelly by Edd the Duck, he will never be forgotten. Bizarrely, Schofield claimed in an interview that Gordon had recently become an alcoholic, and died in a ram-raiding accident.

The pixellated Daley Thompson
Not the man himself - the UK's most celebrated Olympic decathlete - but the videogame he fronted, the legendary Daley Thompson's Decathlon. Today computer games are a more respected artistic medium (or they are if you are under a certain age), so it's only right to include them in my list. But why Daley instead of Sonic or Mario or Donkey Kong? Well, for a start he was a real person. Secondly, I only ever played the game at the Blackpool arcades. The yellow-topped ball joystick was great fun to waggle (as it were), sending the blocky decathlete pinging down the longjump pit, or wherever. Looking back, the game was utter rubbish (they even got his skintone wrong, portraying him as being caucasian), but since when did things being crap stop them from being a hero?

Penfold from Dangermouse
...which brings us nicely to the final entry, and the most fantastic cartoon character ever. Dangermouse was simply brilliant, and yet his sidekick Penfold stole every scene he was in. A short-sighted hamster, always turned out in a blue suit and stripey tie, Penfold bumbled along with the dashing Dangermouse on his adventures. In every episode, he would get into trouble (usually just as DM was about to solve the case), and have to be rescued. Perfectly voiced by Terry Scott, his "Crumbs!" catchphrase summed him up perfectly. As much as I enjoy watching the escapades of Homer, Cartman, Stewie, Bender and so-on, Penfold took my heart a long time ago. He truly is a hero from the arts.

*The one where the A-Team are holed up in a barn and cobble together a steam-powered cabbage bazooka is possibly the greatest single television episode ever.

Disney ousts Dickens in Arts Hero survey
Daley Thompson's Decathlon
Gary Chalk's Official website
Flight from the Dark cover art
YouTube clip of Gordon the Gopher's mauling

A part-time job offer?

2007-06-07T22:44:00.000Z

They can't help themselves....

Dear Sir/Madam,

My Name is John Spelling I just came about your email address and your brief profile through an email listing affiliated with the US Chamber of Commerce and I would be very interested in offering you a part-time paying job in which you could earn alot.

Well, who wouldn't want to earn alot? When this email popped into my inbox the other day it certainly made me think. Mostly about how I seem to have become affiliated to the US Chamber of Commerce. I did walk past it last year when I was wandering around in Washington - maybe that's all it takes. Anyway - let's listen to what Mr Spelling has to say...

I just resigned my job as a research scientist for WFD (Winterwood Farms Ltd) but I still work as a freelance consultant for the institute which gives me very much time to do my own work which is basically being a freelance researcher who could be employed by research institutes to do research projects anywhere in the world.

So he's into research, then. Am I being invited to join his crack team of researchers, ready to respond when a giant letter R is beamed on the clouds? What would be my special power as a SuperResearcher? Maybe a propelling pencil that never ran out, or something.

WHAT YOU NEED TO DO FOR US?

Presently, I have just been granted a funding to head a research project in the tropical regions of West Africa regarding rare and vulnerable plant species and this would be commencing very soon.

Plants? Oh, Ok. I did a bit of basic botany when I was a student - leaves, roots, xylem, phloem, and soforth. And West Africa? Well, fair enough - I suppose the majority of botanical expeditions for vulnerable plants would be in tropical places out of the way somewhere. This is quite conceivable, really.

However my funding were by my American counterparts which sent me the bunch of payments mostly in US and Canadian based check.

Ah.

So presently, assuming you would be able to deal with cash, I would be willing to employ you on contract basis to be my payment representative back in the states, this way I could issue and make these money orders out to you, you could then cash them easily, deduct 10% of the total amount on these money orders as your commission and then send the rest back to me through Western Union wire transfer.

Yes, I am able to deal with cash (on rare occasions when my wallet is filled with anything other than old bus tickets). But I'm not in the States! Oh, the misfortune. The US Chamber of Commerce's database can't be that accurate then. But he's very trusting, is Mr Spelling - he'd like to make out money orders for the full amount for his threatened shrubs, then have faith I'd only deduct 10% before wiring him the rest (or indeed any of it). Don't forget, he's in a West African jungle, and he thinks I live in the US...

HOW MUCH WILL YOU EARN?

10% from each operation! For instance: If you receive 9000 USD via cheques or money orders on our behalf. You will cash the money and keep $900 (10% from $9000) for yourself! At the beginning your commission will be 10%, though later it might increase up to 12%!

Oooh! See that 12% casually tossed in there, like a juicy baited hook. Why, 12% of $9000 is....er....m...more than 10%! Maths really isn't my strongpoint. Maybe that's why I got this email. Notice at no point has Mr Spelling mentioned just what the heck he's doing with these rare plants to make such large (and oddly 'plucked from the air' sums of money). Will they become even rarer? What about the West Africans? I bet he's not even conducted a basic environmental impact assessment. But you've got to watch out for these fly-by-night botanical researchers.

ADVANTAGES

You do not have to go out as you will work as an independent contractor right from your home office. Your job is absolutely legal.

But could I earn more if it wasn't?

You can earn up to $9000-12000 monthly depending on time you will spend for this job. You do not need any capital to start. The employees who make efforts and work hard have a strong possibility to become managers. Anyway our employees never leave us.

There's six words to sooth any nervous would-be employee. I've seen enough episodes of the Sopranos to know what that means - New Jersey landfill here I come. But as a committed follower of all things natural worldy, of course I'd work hard - so if my lesser performing coworkers suddenly stopped appearing, hey - more vulnerable plants for me. Woohoo!

MAIN REQUIREMENTS

18 years or older, legally capable responsible ready to work 3-4 hours per week. With PC knowledge e-mail and internet experience (minimal)

I think most people who know me realise I passed the minimal internet experience standard a loooong time ago. Although I do have a Mac rather than a PC. I'd best not mention that in the interview. I am over 18 and legally responsible though. Go me!

And please know that everything is absolutely legal, that's why you have to fill a contract! If you are interested in our offer, please to reply. Mail directly to my personal email address...

I find emailed contracts are all the more legal. At this point, our would be Dr Livingstone supplies his email address and asks for my personal details, including my email address. Hmmm. But he sent me the email. I conducted my own research (it takes two to tango, Mr Spelling) - Winterwood Farms may well be interested in rare species, but they are in fact a fruit picking business based in Maidstone. Their director is called Terry - there are no John Spellings listed, or any 'research institutes' attached (although they do grow blueberries in Poland). Hmmm.

So after careful consideration Mr Spelling - I'll have to give your kind offer a miss. Unless you'd go up to 15%...?

Edinburgh's Views

2007-06-03T16:00:00.000Z

Edinburgh is one of the most beautiful cities in the world, without a doubt. Currently filling up with camera-toting tourists, there are plenty of things to click away at. Here are some photos I've taken over the years showing some of the best views you can find here. This is St Mary's Episcopal Cathedral in the West End. Consecrated in 1879, it's tightly symmetrical three-spired shape is one of Edinburgh's many landmarks. It's also one of the few that isn't lit up at night, so it sits there looking Gothic and menacing. You get a tremendous view along Melville Street at dusk, when St Mary's is dramatically silhouetted - I walk past it every night and always look up.

You know Christmas is approaching when the big wheel is bolted together next to the Scott Monument. I've never actually been on it - I'm not quite sure why - but I suppose I should one day. It only takes a day or so to erect, and they always carefully hang a tarpaulin over the Princes Street pavement underneath to stop youthful riders plopping things onto passing pedestrians. It looks nicest illuminated, with other fareground-type attractions nearby, and the ubiquitous German Winter Market and ice-rink (which I avoid after my accident in Boston).

This is the best of all Edinburgh views, taken on a walk over the Bridges at the East End. Any time you get a colourful sunset, this is the place to stand. It's almost the same you get exiting Waverley station - I've seen people arrive in the city to this view and stand there gasping, or fumbling for their camera. On the far left is the spire of the original Parliament Building church, then the Bank of Scotland building, and then the castle sprawling down the hill. On the right is the Scott Monument with the Christmas ferris wheel, and in the foreground the glazed roof of the station.

The Meadows is the place to be on a sunny afternoon, there are times when you'd struggle to get a few square feet to yourself on this part. The large tenement flats of Warrender Park line up behind - I used to live to the left of this picture down the street a bit. Because of this I never went in our garden, we never needed to - a short frisbee throw away was this fantastic park. Very much the student area, I used to see them carrying sofas out of their flats and wandering to the Meadows for a hard day's drinking. There are signs up everywhere forbidding barbecues, but after a hot day there are always tell-tale scorchmarks on the grass.

The Dean Village in winter. It used to be a grain milling settlement along the banks of the Water of Leith (the name comes from 'Dene', meaning deep valley). I've written about this a few times, but it's a great part of the city few tourists find. We don't usually get much snow in Edinburgh as the central highlands and west coast get most of it, but when it arrives the Dean Village looks even more picturesque. The mills lasted here for over 800yrs, and the buildings still exist today, converted now to houses and fancy flats.

No prizes for guessing the most photographed building in the city. The castle dominates the landscape - I see it when I leave my flat in the morning, and I can still see it when I get to work several miles away (if I nick up to the top floor and stare out of the window). One of the UK's most popular tourist attractions, I think now it costs something like £13 to get in, so the National Trust Free Day last year - where all their historic buildings drop admission costs - had people queueing up in the hundreds to get in. Not me though, I went about 10yrs ago and spent the day there. It's a good day too, lots to see. But I prefer looking at it from the outside - and of all the many views, this is my favourite - straight up at the retaining walls, from the Grassmarket.

May the Force be with you...

2007-05-26T20:00:00.000Z

Where's that bloody droid gone?

Last weekend saw a thirtieth anniversary that many people of a similar age will look at very fondly. The original Star Wars film - then simply titled, now rebranded 'Episode IV - A New Hope' was first released on the 25th of May 1977. Only twenty-five cinemas screened the film on it's day of release. In 2005, Forbes Magazine (see post below) calculated the franchise to be worth over US$20 billion. Famously, creator George Lucas waived his director's fee and took control of the merchandising rights instead (the studio believed they were worthless). Thirty years ago, nobody could forsee the amount of plastic figures, games and other trinkets that would pour forth from the Star Wars stables, making Lucas billions of dollars for himself, and young kids very happy.

I was 9 months old the day the original film was released, so it's no exaggeration to say that I grew up with Star Wars. Boys everywhere are entranced by action, spaceships, aliens, laserbeams and so on - and although some films before and many since have had those things in abundance, it always comes back to Lucas's sci-fi saga. Of course, I was too young to take advantage first time round, and when the second in the series was released I was still only 4. But in 1983 the third (and at that point final) edition, Return of the Jedi, hit the screens. By this time, I was 7 - the prime age for flashy space chases and collecting plastic crap. I can still remember my Dad taking us to the Preston Odeon to see Return of the Jedi, and watching in disbelief at what was going on - I just wanted to climb into the screen and be a part of it.

From that moment on, all the pocket money I could scrape together went on Star Wars stuff. I'm sure George Lucas was impressed with the sales figures dropping on his desk from West Lancashire. The best day of the year, by far, was the last day of the school term. Not only because it was the last day of school - but because that was the day we could bring in toys and games. For practically every year during my junior school days, that day meant one thing - a mass Star Wars battle. The girls brought in Cabbage Patch Dolls or My Little Ponys or whatever, and the boys completely ignored all of them and crazed about on our knees battering small lumps of plastic into eachother.

It wasn't just the character figures, either. We brought in the ships and speeders, tauntauns and AT-AT's. My Dad had to drive to Manchester one Christmas to find one of those for us - but it was absoutely worth it. I still remember the day my friend Jonathan brought in a Millenium Falcon. However, soon afterwards he moved to Israel and I never saw it again. Er, him, again. Predictably, the market for collecting and trading Star Wars stuff is colossal - there are dozens of websites devoted to it, like www.swfigures.com. "If we had only left them in the box!" is often heard ($250 for one of these, which we had), but even unboxed and loose (as ours are, and I imagine most other thirty-something's collections are), they are worth something. $29 for an AT-AT Commander? Didn't we have two of those? $59 for Boba Fett?!? Are they still in the spare room Mum? Blimey.

Recently the franchise has taken a battering - the ill-conceived 'prequels' ruined the precious memories of the first three, for many people. But the next generation of Star Wars fans fell under the spell (co-incidence, Mr Lucas?) and a new lust for all things Ewok, Jawa and droid began. So for that reason alone they were a good thing. Yes, the afficionados hated Jar Jar Binks (just Google it, and look at the links on the first page), but he was the comic character - the latter-day equivalent of R2D2. Although R2 was handy with that spinny-screwdriver thing, he also fell over a lot and made funny plinky noises for us seven year olds. Let them have Jar Jar. The franchise will roll inexorably on - there are rumours that they will be re-released one after the other, in 3-D (since denied by Lucasfilm). I bet in 1977 they can't have imagined how enormous Star Wars would become. As an exasperated Harrison Ford said during filming - "You can type this shit, George, but you sure can't say it."

Star Wars celebrates 30yrs
Official Star Wars Site

The Forbes way

2007-05-22T21:57:00.000Z

Far higher than 38th on my list...

Everyone loves a list - whether it's your favourite films, Channel Four gamely filling a Friday night schedule, or the recently awarded Strangest Book Title prize (the winner being a field guide to abandoned shopping trolleys). However the undisputed 'Compilation Kings' are Forbes Magazine, the lifestyle bible to upmarket New Yorkers. Founded by an immigrant Scot in 1917, their Fifth Avenue HQ churns out a series of glossy publications based on yuppie advancement, many featuring complex and well-researched lists of current trends. Their most popular are the money-based - the world's billionaires, for example (Bill Gates currently top of the 946 global fat cats, with US$56bn). But they produce many others.

The most expensive private islands in the world should interest some of the billionaires who read Forbes (i.e. all of them). The article states that they can be tough to find though - '"Islands are very scarce, the good ones," says Farhad Vladi of Vladi Private Islands in Hamburg, Germany.' Why? Most are nature reserves, are too remote, or unsuitable for landing Gulfstream jets (I'm assuming that was written tongue in cheek). Also there's always the biggest potential scourge for would-be island owners - mosquitos. For the record, the priciest offshore rock is currently Isla de sa Ferradura near Ibiza, clocking in at a wallet-busting £22.7m. If you only have £17.1m, you could plump for Thailand's Temptation Island, although "the resort needs to have a desalinization plant installed. But it does feature three swimming pools, a helicopter pad and a concrete pier".

In a similar vein, the world's most expensive home is Updown Court in Berkshire, at £75m (it comes with five swimming pools and a heated driveway). Aragawa in Tokyo is the world's most expensive restaurant, where the average meal works out at ¥1,672 (about £160). It doesn't sound crazily expensive to me, but then that's the average price, not a publicity-seeking photo-op. Japan's first steakhouse, Aragawa specialise in Wagyu beef, where the pampered cows are hand-fed and massaged every day. For the ostentatious on the French Riviera, the world's most expensive hotel room is the Penthouse Suite at The Hotel Martinez in Cannes: $37,200 a night. You could make a real splash by arriving in the world's most expensive car, the €1m Bugatti Veyron. Just don't do what this pillock did.

But as this is a travel-based blog for normal folk, and not pompous zillionaires, Forbes produces other lists that aren't as grandiose. The fifty most-visited tourist attractions in the world throws up a few surprises, although the criteria are slightly subjective. They discounted major religious centres of pilgrimmage like Mecca, but included those that are touristy (like Notre Dame Catherdral in Paris). Yet Senso-ji temple in Tokyo (30m visitors in 2005, including yours truly), was not considered. Still, I guess we aren't supposed to take it too seriously. Also not in the running were shopping malls - clearly not tourist attractions - even if the 'Mall of America' in Minnesota welcomed 40m punters over the survery period. I'm guessing a high percentage of them were indeed tourists.

Topping the list is New York's Times Square, with an estimated 35.2m visitors a year (80% of all people who go to NYC end up there at some point), with Washington DC's Memorials up next (which I visited in August last year). Rounding out the top three is my idea of holiday hell, Disney's Magic Kingdom in Florida. The mouse holds spot five as well, with the original Anaheim site sandwiching Trafalgar Square in London. Niagara Falls is up next (14m), one million more people visiting than the 7th placed San Francisco Wharf. Elsewhere in the top ten are the other two Disney sites - Tokyo (8th) and Paris (10th), either side of Notre Dame de Paris. La souris pinches the final top ten spot from the Great Wall of China, in 11th.

This is the major trend, 17 out of the 50 are amusement parks. I have actually been to one of them, Blackpool Pleasure Beach (6.7m thrill seekers; 21st overall) Surprisingly, this is the only list entrant from West Lancashire. I've managed to cross off thirteen of the top fifty on my travels - I think I managed three in one day once (the Sacré-Coeur Basilica [14th], Louvre [15th] and Eiffel Tower [18th]). There are several in London that I've visited, of course. Amazingly, two of the greatest sights on the planet are lingering near the end of the fifty - the Grand Canyon (29th), and Sydney Opera House (38th), both places I would urge anyone to visit while they can. All the theme parks in the world can't match the majesty of the first of these, and if you've read this blog for any length of time, you'll know how I feel about the Opera House.

Forbes Traveller Top 50 Tourist Attractions

'Nobody wants a ballad from a wee man'

2007-05-13T23:13:00.000Z

Marija Šerifović and her hairspray-loving friends

Ah, Eurovision. There really is nothing quite like it. The annual festival of kitsch and mullets took place on Saturday night at the Hartwall Arena in Helsinki, Finland. Last year the mighty Lordi dominated the competition with their rubber monster costumes and "On the day of Rockening!" puns. After rolling out a lengthy megapost about their win, I was counting the days until it came round again. Television at it's finest, it's watched by hundreds of millions worldwide, and over 10m in the UK, where commentary at it's pithiest is provided by the legendary Sir Terry Wogan.

For my non-EU friends, it's a song contest involving 24 countries, made up of the 'big four' (France, Germany, the UK, Spain) plus the top ten finishers from the 2006 final, and 10 qualifiers from Thursday's semi final. Yes, some of the worst do get weeded out. The big four are so-called because they give the most money to the European Broadcasting Union, (which was founded in 1950 in a Torquay hotel) so secure automatic qualification. But that is no guarantee of quality - as we shall see. My co-viewees this year consisted of my American flatmate Michelle (back for her second year), and friends Paul, Craig and Ali. My other flatmate Paul, who sat through the entire 2006 contest, had wisely managed to find something else to do. I warn you now, this is a long post...

1. Bosnia & Herzegovina - Marija Šestić with "Rijeka Bez Imena"
Sample lyric - "No-one can touch your soul like I can, eternally"
Heeeere we go, with what Terry calls a "comely Bosnian" called Marija. Her song means 'River without a name', and the frightened-looking backing dancers sway around in floaty dresses. Already we have two Eurovision staples - dry ice and ethnic instruments.
Eurovision.tv fact - "The sixth person on stage was a male player of a guitar-like instrument, who turned out to be the person that Maria is longing for."

2. Spain - D'Nash with "I love you Mi Vida"
Sample lyric - "Come like the scorpio you are, and lash your deadly tail on me"
Spain's first boyband pile out next, all dreadfully spunky and clad in white denim. With a huge amount of eye makeup and haircuts that wouldn't look out of place in a Sunday league pub team, they are agonisingly out of tune. Finishing on their knees, D'Nash set the bar very low for the 'big four'.
Eurovision.tv fact - "The members of D'Nash are Mikel, Basty, Javi and Ony. Basty has travelled accross Spain performing as soloist with his band. He is a pilot and the sportsman in the group."

3. Belarus - Dmitry Koldun with "Work your magic"
Sample lyric - "You've got the magic power, I keep the key to your tower"
This one starts like a Bond Theme - everyone's in black. Dmitry seems to be singing "Work your magic shoe", which his dancers then demonstrate by balancing precariously on a pair of moving sidescreens. There are lots of fireworks, and they all line up and wave hands around, as is tradition. This will do well, I predict. [it doesn't]
Eurovision.tv fact - "Dmitry's mother, the founder of Princess Diana's Belarusian fan-club, had always dreamed of having a daughter who would look like Diana. Amazingly, her dream partly came true."

4. Ireland - Dervish with "You can't stop the Spring"
Sample lyric - "Europe's all one stage, and the archipelagic icicles have melted like the cage"
It's the Irish entry, so I've already written down 'Fiddles, tin whistles and accordians'. This proves eerily prophetic. "Did Ireland have a public vote?" asks Paul. "And they chose this?". Most of their lyrics are about blackbirds, obviously a blatant pitch for the RSPB vote.
Eurovison.tv fact - "Dervish possess one of the tightest and most inventive rhythm sections on the circuit today."

5. Finland - Hannah Pakarinen with "Leave me alone"
Sample lyric - "The day will still come when I see you crying - 'cause you will get yours, just leave me alone"
More black outfits, this one's a power 80's rock ballad. This causes some excitement amongst certain friends of mine, who shall remain nameless. "She's a very angry young lady" says Terry. Quite so, it's no Lordi, that's for sure.
Eurovision.tv fact - "Growing up in Eastern Finland near the Russian border, Hanna started her career by singing in local rock groups by night and driving a forklift truck at a paper mill by day."

6. FYRM - Karolina with "Mojot Svet"
Sample lyric - "Tonight again I am talking to shadows, I have to run away from myself"
Karolina also causes some excitement, as once again FYR Macedonia produce a leggy young lovely. Karolina looks like that one out of Girl's Aloud who married the footballer. There is lots of stroking with the dancers, and we all pay careful attention. There's a wind machine, too, which is always good to see.
Eurovision.tv fact - "Due to her great popularity, Karolina was used in the haircare products manufacturer Head & Shoulders' advertisements, for the ex-Yugoslavian area."

7. Slovenia - Alenka Gotar with "Cvet z juga"
Sample lyric - "Le privid si mi iz daljnih dni"
Black once again, it seems to be the ensemble outfit colour of choice. There's an Opera theme thing going on, and a spooky trick with a glowing hand, which turns out to be a small lightbulb as Alenka reveals her secret. She'll be out of the Slovenian Magician's Guild for that, without doubt. "She must have a car battery in her back pocket!" says Craig.
Eurovision.tv fact - "In 2003, Alenka won the special award from the Klagenfurt Theatre for the best world stage person."

8. Hungary - Magdi Rúzsa with "Unsubstantial Blues"
Sample lyric - "So now that it's over - I'll try and take it sober"
I can safely say that I've never seen a bus stop used in Eurovision before, as Magdi sits on a suitcase pretending to thumb a lift down an imaginary road. There are no key changes in this one, it's actually quite good. This of course means it won't win, but then it wouldn't be Eurovision if the good songs came out on top.
Eurovision.tv fact - "We all wish Magdi good luck and hope that after conquering the Hungarian music lovers, she can show her extreme talent to a European audience."

9. Lithuania - 4FUN with "Love or Leave"
Sample lyric - "Weak and unwise, I betray all fears that I should disguise"
The most poetic lyrics of the night, as the Dana-a-like singer croons away on a bar stool. Behind her a large screen hides the musicians in silhouette. Resisting the temptation to make v-signs and animal shapes, they play some decidedly good music. What is Eurovision coming to? Time for more alcohol, if this is what we're in for.
Eurovision.tv fact - "Lead singer Julija is included in the 2002 catalogue "Who is who in Lithuania" (Lithuanian edition)." [by the way, all these facts really are on the Eurovision website]

10. Greece - Sarbel with "Yassou Maria"
Sample lyric - "Shake it up, shake it up, there you go - oh ohh"
Oh-ohh! Here we go. You can always rely on the Greeks. Sarbel might sound like a grimy fish that odd-looking men try to catch in flooded gravelpits, but he looks (and sounds) like Ricky Martin. Almost. "He's horrible!" says Ali, as he thrusts his way around his dancers. Brilliantly, Sarbel rips off part of their skirts - the holy grail of Eurovision - and they become ribbons he entangles himself in.
Eurovision.tv fact - "Sarbel was brought into this world by a Cypriot father and a Lebanese mother on May 14th, 1981 in London."

11. Georgia - Sopho with "Visionary Dream"
Sample lyric - "Clouds containing lakes - I'm near the haze of pouring light"
Cossacks! Things are indeed looking up (or down, depending on how you look at it). Sopho is staggeringly out of tune, and for Georgia's first ever entry, is really quite awful. She shrieks a lot as the dancers whirl about with their swords clanging. It could get 0 points.
Eurovision.tv fact - "Sopho started singing when she was only 3 years old. She began attending the Music School (Piano and Oboe Department) in Batumi."

12. Sweden - The Ark with "The worrying kind"
Sample lyric - "I'm just a silly old boy with my head in the can, I'm just a mortal with potential of a superman"
The Campometer rockets into orbit as the Swedes amaze with a glam rock T-Rex affair. Their frontman pouts and croons away, as the guitarists do choreographed motions Status Quo would be proud of. He then rips off his silver jacket and lies, naked apart from trousers and a pair of sequined gloves, on a spinning black and white turntable. It's Ali's favourite, and is fantastic.
Eurovision.tv fact - "Everybody in The Ark is really nice, they all like beer, a few are a vegetarians, and one of them secretly likes fermented herring."

13. France - Les Fatals Picards with "L'Amour a la Française"
Sample lyric - "I remember us la Tour Eiffel, so beautiful with your sac Chanel"
Traditionally France don't try in Eurovision, they send a failed hotel bar singer and finish in the bottom five - but not this time. 'The love of a Frenchwoman' is sung by a band even camper than the Swedes, which is almost hard to believe. The pink-clad singer gambols around the stage, as the drummer pounds away, dressed as an angel. "Is he singing 'the sun is hotter than birds?' This doesn't make sense" someone says. [France finish in the bottom five anyway]
Eurovision.tv fact - "The band formed in 2000 by Ivan. He added a few buddies in order to legally keep the notion of a band, and thus benefit from several fiscal advantages, like for example car sharing."

14. Latvia - Bonaparti.LV with "Questa Notte"
Sample lyric - "The perfume of your skin invites me, to discovery what I don't know"
Now there's a chat-up line to remember. In 2006, the Latvian entry assembled a robot onstage. In 2007, they are represented by six Opera singers dressed as Dickens' characters. They have top hats and are holding roses. "They are really good!" "What?" "No - not them. Jelly Babies."
Eurovision.tv fact - "Andris Erglis is the baby of the group. But he has an enigmatic appearance."

15. Russia - Serebro with "Song #1"
Sample lyric - "I've got my bad ass spinning for you"
Another band that sounds like an anagram. But what a band. Three marginal teenage girls in black schoolgirl outfits rocking out about girl power. This will do very well. "You know," says Terry, "there used to be a time when Russian girls had moustaches".
Eurovision.tv fact - "What are my pleasures in life? Stage, sex and cars. Also I like to be a leader and I make a cult of food. [Elena Timnikova, singer]"

16. Germany - Roger Cicero with "Frauen Regier'n Die Welt"
Sample lyric - "When I found out she wanted to save the environment, I sewed "No thanks" on my parka"
The third of the 'big-four' is a German swing band in multicoloured suits. They all have fedora hats on, and switch to English halfway through. The title means 'Women rule the world', yet the song mentions David Beckham.
Eurovision.tv fact - "The song is a deep-seated recognition of women, that only an out-and-out macho does not want to accept. And Roger Cicero is definitively not a macho." [again, these are not made up]

17. Serbia - Marija Šerifović with "Molitva"
Sample lyric - "Days are like wounds, countless and hard to get through"
"Things are looking up!" says either Craig or Paul, as a bookish bespectacled Serbian is surrounded by a bevy of hairspray addicted backing singers. Another Eastern European power ballad, there's a bit of groping, but not as much as Sarbel the Greek. It's not bad, either.
Eurovision.tv fact - "Marija knew that music would be her only occupation. She finished high school and music schools and then studied management."

18. Ukraine - Verka Serduchka with "Dancing Lasha Tumbai"
Sample lyric - "Ukraine - that's cool?! Cool! Ukraine - that's reat?! Reat! The square is dancing!"
Bloody hell. I could fill an entire post about the Ukrainians. The 'orange revolution' seems to have become the 'bacofoil revolution'. The Campometer is off the scale here. Verka looks like Timmy Mallett crossed with Pat Butcher from Eastenders, spraypainted silver. All of them wear mirrored costumes based on German WWII uniforms. Most of their lyrics are numbers, shouted in German. Verka has a giant star on his head. I get a text from my mate Chris saying simply 'Oh that wins'. I secretly use his number to vote for them.
Eurovision.tv fact - "At the beginning of his career Verka performed just the items of the verbal idiomatic genre." [Verka's repertoire has since expanded]

19. United Kingdom - Scooch with "Flying the Flag (for you)"
Sample lyric - "Would you like something to suck on for landing sir?"
Well, we've got the best lyric in the competition, if nothing else. It turns out nothing else is more or less what we get. Our entry is a highly OTT song about being an air steward. "This is horrendous" someone says, as we watch between our fingers. This is the difference between the UK and Europe when it comes to Eurovision. We deliberately send the cheesiest option whilst they take it seriously. But my theory falls down when I remember the Ukrainians.
Eurovision.tv fact - "Last year's winners were a heavy rock band, we want to bring it back to Euro pop where it belongs"

20. Romania - Todomondo with "Liubi, Liubi, I Love You"
Sample lyric - "Everywhere around the world, "io ti amo" è sempre uguale (Hey!)"
Each singer is dressed as a different country. There's one in a beret, one dressed as a Russian sailor. With aching predictability the 'British man' sports a bowler hat. But what are they on about? And why is the Romanian dressed as a jester?
Eurovision.tv fact - "A football fan, Andrei the Romanian hates violence against animals, and wickedness in general." [bless]

21. Bulgaria - Elitsa Todorova and Stoyan Yankoulov with "Water"
Sample lyric - "See this young lass there, eeeeee!"
Only four to go. Although the lyric sounds like it's from Last of the Summer Wine, the Bulgarians are a pair of techno drummers. A wide array of things to wallop are within reach, and Eiltsa and Stoyan do some serious walloping. We're all thrilled to see Stoyan has a corking mullet - the first of the night. At song number 21, that's something of a pity. "This is bonkers!" says Craig.
Eurovision.tv fact - "Stoyan got his high-school education specializing in percussions and his university degree also in percussions, Jazz and Rock Department."

22. Turkey - Kenan Doğulu with "Shake It Up Şekerim"
Sample lyric - "She smiled at me, said: Would you like it sweet and low?"
Good old fashioned Euro-smut. Kenan piles along at a crazy tempo, looking rather smug. But then he is dressed like a circus ringmaster, and surrounded by belly dancers. None of us really know what to think anymore. It's terrible - but is it the right kind of terrible?
Eurovision.tv fact - "Although a famous, popular and appreciated artist in Turkey, Kenan thinks what he has achieved in his musical career is still not sufficient."

23. Armenia - Hayco with "Anytime You Need"
Sample lyric - "I only wanna guard, every beat of your gentle heart"
We had a bus stop before, now a tree appears at Eurovision. What's more, it's covered in streamers of toilet paper. Hayco from Armenia wears a medallion [check!], stares at the camera [check!], misses his high notes [check!], is supported by bongo drums [check!], and seemingly ends up covered in blood [double check!]. Alison sums it up - "Nobody wants a ballad from a wee man."
Eurovision.tv fact - "In 2003 Hayco won at the Armenian National Music Awards for 'The best DVD'."

24. Moldova - Natalia Barbu with "Fight"
Sample lyric - "The onfall's adapting the hearts, itch people will gnaw our wishes, no more"
It was a fight, but we made it. Rounding out the show is yet another black-clad power ballad from the former Eastern bloc. Natalia is wearing the lowest-cut pair of leather trousers any of us has ever seen. Terry is lost for words. Or maybe it's the Bailey's he's been knocking back (allegedly). We have no idea what the song's about.
Eurovision.tv fact - "When Natalia was young, her greatest pleasure was to "make herself beautiful" and to wander from place to place, even to the forest."

So, the music finishes. But the fun is far from over, as the next hour and a half sees the votes rumble in from all over the continent (and beyond, if you look at certain European maps). The hosts - Jaana Pelkonen and Mikko Leppilampi start it off. "Nobody could be famous in the UK with a name like Leppy-lampy" says Sir Michael Terrance Wogan KBE, at his brilliant/drunken best. The interval act - allowing the EBU to count the millions of text votes - features Santa Claus (the most famous Finn?), trapeze artists, soft chello rock, and a man in a bubble. After which, it's time to reveal the winner.

Again, if you're unfamiliar with the procedure, the public from every country that entered can vote (even if their entrant failed to make the final). Their votes are broken down in order, and the most popular song gets 12 points, the next popular 10, then 8, 7, 6, and down to 1pt. You can't vote for your own country, but voting for your neighbours is always a popular option, and one of the most contentious/fantastic parts of Eurovision. It's something that Terry constantly rails about, but the public vote was seen by the EBU as a key change to the old format of stuffy 'critics' from each area handing out points like judges at figure skating. Anyway, how bad can it be?

The very first vote announced is from Montenegro - who's public award 12 to neighbouring Serbia. The crowd are booing already, 45 seconds into the 90 minute voting. "Ahh, the old Balkan foxtrot" says our Tel. He may have a point - the semi final was also decided on a public vote, and all ten of the qualifiers to the final were from the east of the continent. But then maybe they had the best songs. The Belarussian public give 10 to Ukraine and 12 to Russia. "I wouldn't bet on any Western European country getting many points" says Terry. "But if I was worried about being attacked by Russia, I'd give them 12", says Ali.

However, it's not all bad. Amongst the Danish giving the Swedes 12, the Spanish voters decide to give top marks to Romania. It was one of the worst songs, but they did sing a bit of it in Spanish, so why not? Each country's votes are announced to the Finnish hosts by a specially chosen person - the Danish judge flirts outrageously with Messer Leppilampi, who bears a striking resemblance to Barbie's friend Ken. The Greek judge speaks some token Finnish and the crowd go crazy. The Slovenian judge sports a spangly jumper. Ali suggests going on holiday to the winning country.

Bosnia give 12 to Serbia. Booing. Cyprus give 12 to Greece. Booing. The Croatian public vote causes booing even before their spokesperson announces who got the top points, as everyone guesses it's going to a neighbour. It goes to Serbia - who are now well clear of the rest. The UK are last with no points, the Irish only just ahead. "I think we should have a referendum on a Scottish entry!" someone says. The Norwegian judge gets excited - "Finland!!! You Rocked The World And Set Europe Alight!!! [cheering] "Our 12pts goes to...Sweden!!!" [booing]. The Swiss spokesman appears in a deep caramel tan and silver suit. "Swiss men don't look like that!"

Finally, the Irish public give the UK our first points - 7 - moving us up to second last, ahead of...Ireland. Then next up Malta do what they always do and give us 12, launching Scooch to the dizzying heights of 22nd. To be fair, Terry makes a mockery of this as well (until 1964 Malta was a British colony). The Swedish judge makes an indecipherable joke about ice hockey, and then gives Finland top marks. Russia give 10 to Ukraine and 12 to Belarus - "Hands across the Volga!" says Terry. "The Russian jury give 8pts to Russia, 10pts to Russia, and 12pts to Russia," says Craig. The Icelandic spokeswoman looks how most men imagine an Icelandic spokeswoman would look.

The Moldovan judge appars in front of a photograph of what seems to be the New York skyline - "That isn't Chisinau!" says Terry, experienced European traveller that he is. It's the Serbian A-Z he's dusting off, as they are still a country mile ahead of several other assorted East European entrants. The Macedonian spokeswoman is none-other than Elena Risteska, who represented them in the 2006 contest. I'm ashamed to say I know that, even if it's the hotpants I remember. She sings a bit of her entry, but it falls on deaf ears and she meekly reads out the numbers. They give 12 to Sebia too. The UK's scores are presented by Ferne Cotton sitting in front of Sir Norman Fosters Gherkin (as it were).

It's all over. Serbia have won, the UK has come joint second last - the other 'big four' have been forgotten also (Germany 19th, Spain 20th, France 22nd). Ireland get the lowest score, with five points. It was another miracle of television, politics and intrigue. In May 2008, the circus moves to Belgrade - but until then, as ever, the final words lie with Sir Terry Wogan..."It's been a wonderful evening. Not musically, of course. Goodnight.."

Final top three scores - Serbia 268pts, Ukraine 235, Russia 207.

Serbian Ballad wins at Eurovision [bbc]
The Official Eurovision site
Marija Šerifović website

A Quick Plug

2007-05-09T18:46:00.000Z

It seems as if I've been nominated for a blogging award - not by myself, I hasten to add. The post I wrote about Spring arriving in Edinburgh has been shortlisted for a prize by RoomsNet.com and their Rooman's Blog. I'm not really sure who submitted it, but if it gets the most votes I stand to win a $400 hotel voucher to a destination of my choice (Hello Blackpool!). If you've forgotten what that post was about, here it is again. No pressure or anything, but should you wish to give me support, you can do so by going here, and following the instructions. Fingers crossed, eh?

In other news, this Saturday sees one of the blogging highlights of the year, the Eurovision Song Contest. This year it's coming from Helsinki after Finnish costume rockers Lordi won the previous title. You can check out my lengthy post about the 2006 contest here. It should be a corker. I'll try and post it by Sunday, then after that it's back to normal blogging activity, like the special post I'm working on about shrimps. Until Sunday...

RoomsNet.com
Rooman's Blog (I'm entry no.29)

Eurovision Official Site

Nessie Near Misses

2007-05-05T23:19:00.000Z

The toad makes a break for it

Exciting news from the Highlands and Islands region this week, as a team of scientists from MIT in Boston almost struck biological gold. One of the most infamous Cryptids out there (large and elusive animals), was again hunted for. The Loch Ness Monster has long puzzled people and inflamed opinions (like those realising you have to pay to visit the 'Nessie Experience', for example). The Beantown Boffins were completing a sonar map of the Loch, all 23 miles of it. Some project, as it contains more fresh water than all that in England and Wales combined. I'm not sure if they were specifically looking for giant marine dinosaurs - but they didn't find any. A 13,000yr old fossilised seabed was a pretty decent result, along with numerous seismic echoes of 'animal remains', and not Nessie, but a toad.

The Common Toad (Bufo bufo) was spotted by the MIT submersible, calmly waddling it's way through the muddy Loch sediment - or it was until the buzzing sub startled it with bright lights. Nothing unusual about that, you might think, as they are found in most European bodies of freshwater. The interesting thing was, this plucky Bufonid happened to be almost 100m (325ft) down in the cold, black water. Toads usually hunt in damp undergrowth or shallow lakes - amphibian experts are baffled as to what it was doing so deep underwater. It was the second "Hang on - that shouldn't be there!" nature story of the week, after the Cornish lobster fishermen who were checking their pots half a mile from Portreath Beach suddenly found a deer swimming past them.

Back in Scotland, Nessie enthusiasts were no doubt disappointed that the MIT expedition failed to find a slippery plesiosaur or two. With the possible exception of Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster is the most famous unseen creature in the world. It's certainly one of the oldest - the first alleged sighting was in 565AD by a Saint, no less. Columba (the patron saint of bookbinders), apparently rescued a hapless Pict by the name of Lugne, who was being attacked by a "ferocious monster". However, it seems Columba was a bit of a specialist in battling large creatures - the account of his life written by Adomnán of Iona includes several Herculean battles with massive beasties. He once killed a charging wild boar by shouting at it, apparently. Blessed are the bookbinders.

The 'Ultimate Nessie Site' (nessie.co.uk) has a list of sightings from 1871 onwards - "Mr D MacKenzie, October, log like object that moved off at speed". Some of them are a bit obtuse - "Gypsy woman, 1890's, place unknown, description unknown", some highly detailed - "Sir Murdoch MacDonald and son and one other observer, 18:00hrs, the 8th of August 1934, two humps, 15ft overall, moving slowly (about 100yds in five minutes)". I bet Sir Murdoch had a story to tell at dinner that evening. "I say chaps, you'll never guess what the boy, one other observer and I saw a few hours ago". The last recorded Nessie spotting event happened in 1998, so maybe the old girl has had enough of showing herself.

She hasn't always though. Monster fever peaked in the 1930's, at about the time a road was constructed around the banks of the loch. Sir Murdoch and others now had direct access to hilly vantage points, and many took advantage. The Daily Mail (in a highly untypical knee-jerk reaction) hired a big game hunter and media celebrity called Marmaduke Wetherell to roam the wilds for the beast. Within a few days, he had found a massive set of prints in the mud. Excitedly sent off to London's Natural History Museum for analysis, the area went crazy, thousands flocked to the small lochside towns. Floodlights were set up so people could search for Nessie at night. However, the experts looked at the tracks, and revealed that they were from a Hippopotamus - most likely the base of an umbrella stand.

The Official Loch Ness Monster site
Visit Loch Ness
Cryptomundo - the search for large animals

Pink Week

2007-04-29T20:51:00.000Z

According to the papers today, Scotland is headed for it's warmest April since records began. This weekend the weather was dry and sunny, and as the Brits tend to do, everyone piled outside to make the most of it. Edinburgh is currently going through 'Pink Week', so the sun was much appreciated. Unofficially named by local students, it's the few days every Spring where the city parks explode into life with tree blossom. It's not just the Japanese who love the 'sakura', we've got it over here as well. The two best Pink Week viewing locations are the Edinburgh Botanic Gardens (fairly obviously), and the Meadows park towards the south of the city centre. I lived just off the Meadows for many years, and never tired of the spectacular floral show at the end of each April. The Japanese see them as a metaphor for the ephemeral nature of existence - and with good reason, as within a few days all these blossoms will be gone.

White blooms near my office

Students 'studying' in the Meadows

Arthur's Seat hides behind a pink hedge

Closeup from the botanic gardens

Jawbone walk, the main pathway across the Meadows

Another closeup - note the blue sky!

Hair Crimes

2007-04-23T18:31:00.000Z

Your author, circa 1997. Curtains!

So I was getting my monthlyish haircut over the weekend, during which I learned that the girl who regularly attempts to hack into my spiky shagpile comes from the same Polish city as my Aunt (hello Gosia!!). Slightly odd, as I thought she was Spanish (the hairdresser, that is). But then, I've only been going there for eight years. I managed to impress her with my awesome pronunciation of Wroclaw, which I'd be willing to bet you can't take a shot at*. It's the second-largest city after Warsaw, and is in the Lower Silesian Voivodeship, as I'm sure you all appreciate. That's a word my spellchecker returns as 'Volvo dealership'. Anyway, we talked about our collective knowledge of Poland for a while - her twenty-odd years compared to my pronunciation of one urban area. I'm glad my Auntie isn't from Bydgoszcz, or I'd have had nothing to say at all.

Haircuts are peculiar things, it's the single thing you get someone else to do that has a major impact on how you look. Hence the trepidation many people feel about them. Tonsurophobia is what you have when things get really bad. The 'International Hair Directory' HairFinder.com has an article about the subject, written by a Psychosocial Therapist. In it, she postulates fear of getting a haircut may be a sign of a greater problem, such as social anxiety disorder or personality issues. There are dozens of hairstyle websites out there, many trying to help those with haircut anxiety by featuring stunning pictures of knockout celebs, like the lovely Scarlett Johansson. Thankfully Hairfinder has a Hair Chooser where you can upload a photo of yourself (men and women both) and generate all kinds of wacky do's - but alas it costs US$15, so you'll have to make do of the photo of me above.

Firstly, I was obviously pale and drawn because of all the hard academic work and all those hours in the gym working on my six-pack. Secondly, center partings were all the rage in the mid-90's. They were hard to keep up with, though, far more complicated than my current "shave round the back and chop into the top, prosze." I remember once getting some old duffer in a place outside of Stirling, who hacked into the back like a pensioner going at a privet hedge, then blowdried the front until I looked like George Michael. But hey, I bet there's not one of you out there who doesn't have at least one hair crime in their past. Student days are clearly the best time for these, as the new found freedoms kick in and either youthful exuberance or destitution result in cracking combinations of lengths and colours. I've never changed colour, but I've certainly changed my length (as it were), the time I got the whole lot shaved off was great fun, until I realised that I instantly resembled a pink kiwi fruit.

As I can't do a post without mentioning Wikipedia, I had great fun with their 'notable hairstyles' section (go to the link and scroll down a bit). Duck's Ass, anyone? I put that into an online Polish translator, and it came back wonderfully as 'kaczka osiol' "Kaczka" sounds like the noise a duck might make, if it had a heavy cold, and "Osiol", well... Worried waterfowl aside, there are so many different types and styles of haircut these days, that pretty much anything goes. Even mullets seem to have come back, every day I see some catastrophic alignment of edges and highlights. Kevin Pietersen has a lot to answer for, although it's worth pointing out Shane Warne had that hair surgically implanted, and it still looks like he's got a bird on his head. Maybe it's a kaczka osiol. Anyroad, the good thing with modern hairstyles is that if you are unfortunate enough to get a terrible haircut, it seems you will be in good company.

* It's pronounced rotswoff. Gold star if you got it...

Fancy a pint?

2007-04-16T20:38:00.000Z

The Pike Bar, Seattle

The blogging Spring cleaning continues apace - with DUaB sorted out in it's new look (unless you happen to be viewing in Internet Explorer, but I'll get on that soon), attention has been turned to the brand new kid on the block - The BeerCast. A new blog from a panel of enthusiastic amateur boozers (myself included), we aim to offer an interactive forum for lovers of all types of ales. Come over and see for yourself, as we take one country at a time and review some of the choicest - and not so choicest - beers on offer. As we have to record our tasting sessions for notetaking and soforth, we may well cobble together a podcast (the BeerCast of the title), so watch this space. Or rather - watch this space...

The BeerCast

Good for what ails you

2007-04-12T21:20:00.000Z

Mmmm

I've been thinking a lot about beer over the last few weeks. Not just on an amateur level, either. The new beer blog (still not finished, but getting there) gives us plenty of opportunity to increase our knowledge. Of course, when you dabble with the drink, it can come at a price. Hangovers - or 'vesalgia' to give it the proper medical term - are never fun, and yet many of us are happy to take the trade-off they involve to have a decent night out. Several times a week, if they are students. But how to combat them? Wiki has a list of possible remedies that vary from the reasonable - drinking water and taking paracetamol, to the bizarre - eating cactus fruit, swimming in cold water, masturbation (the old 'It's for my hangover, dear!' excuse).

Scotland has it's very own ready mixed Hangover cure, of course - the mighy Irn-Bru. Due to a high sugar content and freakish combination of minerals and who-knows-what, it does help with the headache and dehydration. But it's not enough, so it's advisable to combine it with that other great British invention, the All-Day Breakfast. I love the introduction to it's page on the aforementioned Wikipedia - 'Fry-ups are no longer an everyday occurrence in most British households although they occupy an important place in the English concept of the morning meal. They are the predominant business of many greasy spoon cafés as well as generally being offered to tourists as traditional fare in hotels, guest houses and Bed and Breakfasts.' Quite.

A proper home-cooked fryup is a joyous thing - golden free range eggs, perky mushrooms, thick floppy bacon. The list of alternatives is almost endless, and up here you have the added complication of haggis, black/white/red pudding, potato scones and so forth. Take the time to find the right ingredients and cook it yourself, and it's a world beater - and not necessarily unhealthy. But what if you don't have the ingredients to hand, or an easy shopping trip away? Bearing in mind that with a pounding hangover you aren't likely to be down the local organic market sourcing fresh produce. You need to turn to convenience, to the easy option. And what could be easier than having the entire fryup pre-cooked, and in a tin?

Hunger Breaks - The Full Monty just screams out from the supermarket shelf, with the fake tablecloth pattern and glistening photo of goodness within. Produced by HL Foods of Spalding, Lincolnshire, it falls under the considerable umbrella of Premier Foods, who seem to manufacture almost everything for sale in the UK - they own Cadbury, Sharwoods, Hovis, Mr Kipling, Branston, Oxo, and many others. But Hunger Breaks is surely the jewel in their crown - just a quick glance at their product range and you can feel your arteries harden. They have five tinned delights - All Day Breakfast, Chicken Curry, The Big BBQ, Sausage n' Wedges, and The Full Monty. Yes, you read that right - tinned sausages and potato wedges. Lovely.

So what wonderments make up the latter of these? The enticing blurb on the back of the label reads - 'Baked beans in tomato sauce with large sausages, potato chunks, button mushrooms, mini bacon steaks and a mini chopped & shaped beef & cereal cutlet.' In reality, this consists of - baked Beans (22%), water, tomatoes (15%), pork sausage (13% - themselves made up of a whopping 49% pork), potato (9%), button mushrooms (6%), bacon slice (5%), beef chop (3%), sugar, and then various flavourings and extracts. Polishing off the 410g lot will rack up 340 calories, 16g of fat and 3g of salt. The first thing that happens is the 'chopped & shaped' beef and cereal cutlet dissolves under the most gentle of stirrings, so small pieces of mince fragment into every mouthful.

This is a pity, as it makes it all taste very similar and limits the fun of plucking out the 'bacon slices' - which have indeed been chemically formed into the shape of a rasher of bacon (it must be the Sodium Diphosphate 'stabiliser'). After the first few forkfuls, you can feel it sitting there in the stomach like a lead weight - but picking at the bits becomes addictive, and soon the whole thing has gone. The best bit - probably the sausages, which of course don't taste like anything else. The worst bit - the feeling of creeping dread that you've just done something very wrong, something that you really shouldn't have. As you waddle back into the kitchen with the plate, the authors of your fresh and exciting cookbooks look down on you from their sea bass and endive-pictured covers, with a look of disgust. That's the worse thing. Oh, and the nausea.

DUaB Mark 2...

2007-04-09T23:02:00.000Z

Hello again! Sorry for the downtime over the last few days, I've been wrestling with the wonders of html and blogging tools. Or rather, finding lots of free template sites and doing a fair bit of cutting and pasting. Anyway, after three years of using one of the default Blogger templates, it was time for a change - and this is the result. Hope you like it, I certainly do. Thanks to Final Sense for the ready-to-go templates, although of course the header I had to cobble together myself. That's what bank holidays are for, of course - DIY. In these modern cyber times, it's not just phsyical things you can do up, online property can be smartened. Plus it's my 300th post, so another reason to mix things up a bit. The layout might have changed, but the content won't too much (so apologies for that).

Before I get back to posting normally, here's a story I read about over the Easter break. A 25yr old Croatian man was arrested at Zagreb airport when customs officials saw his suitcase bulging. When they opened it, surprisingly it contained 175 chameleons. The man, named by the Guardian as Dragos Radovic, bought them in SE Asia when told by a local that they become invisible. Smuggling invisible animals sounds like the perfect get rich quick scheme - but unfortunately when plonked en masse into a suitcase they don't all take on the colour of the bag lining. Instead of an empty case, the officals saw 175 green chameleons (which don't change colour when stressed), and promptly arrested him for smuggling and animal cruelty.

So once again, as if proof were needed - crazy schemes never seem to work out in the end. Speaking of which, if you're a fan of beer - check out The Beer Cast. An amusing look at the most popular drink in the world. Hopefully we'll get it online by the end of the week, so if you get the dreaded 'private only!!!!' message, check back in a few days.

R

Edit - it seems there might be a slight formatting problem with the blog if you use Internet Explorer. I'll try and sort it out as soon as I can...

Bonus London photos

2007-04-03T21:58:00.001Z

My short period of shooting about over Europe has sadly come to an end, as I'm back in Edinburgh working away again (until the Easter break on Friday, of course). Here are some photos I took last Saturday afternoon in London, which was superbly busy on a sparkling Spring day. I walked around two great buildings for picture takers - the Old Bailey and St Paul's Cathedral, before crossing the wobbly Millenium Bridge and walking along the south bank of the Thames for a while. The last photo is the relaxing end to a hectic week - I just about recovered from the 4:30am start - and celebrated with a well-earned complimentary G&T on my BA flight back to Scotland. I don't usually - but well, when it's BA, and it's free - one might as well, eh?

St Paul's on a sunny London afternoon

The Cathedral peeks out from buildings on Ludgate Hill

A seagull wheels past Lady Justice, the Old Bailey

London's oldest courthouse looking imposing

St Paul's as seen from a busy Millenium Bridge

Finishing off a successful trip in style

**BREAKING NEWS**BREAKING NEWS**BREAKING NEWS**BREAKING

It's a cut and thrust world, this blogging lark - you need to innovate, or you stagnate (or something - I was never very good at motivational management-type speak). So over the Easter long weekend, changes will be afoot for DUaB. After several hundred posts and almost three years - it's time for a change. So in a frantic burst of Spring cleaning, after Easter DUaB will return invigorated, with a new look. Also - and hang on to your hats - a new blog will spill forth from these tired, Wikipedia-abusing fingers. Yes, your author is branching out into another blogging sector. More soon, more soon....

Early Bird - Early Starts?

2007-03-30T13:35:00.000Z

Archaeopteryx - a truly early bird

What's in a saying? Yesterday I had cause to think about 'The early bird catches the worm', and what it means. Phrases.org ('you'll probably find something here to interest you!') list the meaning of that particular nugget as "Success comes to those who preapre [sic] well and put in effort." Like putting effort into spelling, perhaps? They attribute the birth of this adage to John Ray's Collection of English Proverbs, written in 1670. I wonder how John came up with his saying - presumably he was sitting in his post-Elizabethan kitchen munching on some precursor of the crunchy nut cornflake and watching the blackbirds in his garden. Those that flapped down late from the surrounding trees missed out on their wriggly breakfast compared to the first few individuals. Dropping the bowl into the sink, the next addition to his new book of proverbs hit him "Yes! I have another - the bird that arriveth late to said party, misseth outeth on yonder Oligochaete bounty! Hussah!"

So Phrases.org seem to impy the saying means if you preapre - or prepare - in advance, plan carefully, you'll come up trumps in the end (itself an entry in the phrase database of course, derived from an old card game called triumph, apparently). Anyway, these days, the 'early bird catches the worm' has almost universally become applicable to things happening to those who arrive first, or get up the earliest - a la the blackbirds in John Ray's garden. Sales, special offers, competitions - these all offer incentives for those of us who can summon up the energy to crawl from our beds before sunrise. Of course, if you live in Scotland and get up before noon, you usually get up in the dark anyway. One rather amusing irony in me considering this phrase is that for a while I actually had to catch worms, as I was studying their numbers in various eastern English estuaries. So I can unequivocally answer that the early student doesn't catch the worm, as I was in bed with a hangover and went in the afternoons.

So why was I thinking about this particular phrase yesterday? Probably because I was busy thumping the alarm clock as is bleeped maniacally at 4:15am, rousing me from dreaming about Rovers winning the FA Cup. I had a meeting to attend in London, so needed to catch a 6:30 flight to the other capital, in order to be at Guy's Hospital for 10am. When you have to get up that early, there's a sense of disbelief when the alarm sounds, as you can't quite imagine it's that time already. But my clock is made by Oregon Scientific, so it must have been right (anything with the word 'scientific' in or on it has to be believed, surely?). By the way, looking at their website, surprisingly it pictures their products used by fit and healthy-looking model types studying, working out or otherwise bettering themselves - no pictures of bleary-eyed northerners punting their products across the room for forcing them out of bed in the middle of the night.

So, here I am in London. Only four days after mooching about on the Paris Metro, it's the Tube this time. The flight was fine after my early start - I'm not sure I caught any worms, but I learned some more interesting stuff about cancer. And besides, I've caught tens of thousands of worms in my life, I reckon I shouldn't disturb them any more than is necessary. One thing that amazed me was how busy Edinburgh airport was at 5am - long queues for all the flights connecting with other UK cities, people going to meetings or catching onward flights. A party of Egyptians in front of us in the queue had all kinds of luggage problems - how do you decide what to remove when the check-in desk lady curtly instructs you to take 2kg out of your suitcase? We got our boarding cards and walked past him, furtively rooting about in his luggage for things he didn't need back in Cairo, armed policemen eyeing him suspiciously.

The upshot of my Early Bird activity was by about 2pm I was seriously flagging - but of course as my boss reads this, I was still highly alert and motivated, taking copious notes and thinking of piercing questions to ask. By the time I got to my Grandparents in north London, I was just about done. After one of my Grandad's special pie and sausage combos, that was it. I went to bed and slept for almost twelve hours, as the worms of this part of the city rooted about in the ground, safe in the knowledge that I was coming nowhere near them...

Provins Problème

2007-03-26T09:01:00.000Z

Sunday afternoon Pétanque

Awkwardly-received gifts can be a real nuisance sometimes. Not just the stereotypical Christmas jumper - but all kinds of other things too. In AD133 Henry I of Champagne (a kingdom with boozy coronations, no doubt), was given the head of a saint, of all things. Saint Quiriacus lived as Judas Cyriacus, when he happened to direct Empress Helena to the possible whereabouts of the 'true cross'. This "have you tried digging over there?" helpfulness got Judas baptised, made Bishop of Jerusalem, and then martyred in a truly horrible way by the persecutions of Julian the Apostate. Somehow his head was acquired by Henry I, probably under the influence of his native brew. "Wow. Guys, that was some session last night, eh? Ow. So, what happened? I didn't get pissed and buy anything stupid again did I? Hey - why is there a receipt for a Saint's head in my wallet?"

Why do I mention this? Well, Henry brought the head back to France and decided to build a cathedral around it. In time, this grew to a small town, which in medieval times was the centre of the region. A series of well-timed protection orders meant the architecture of Provins (as the settlement was called) was safeguarded, and has since become one of the classic walled medieval towns of Northern France. Sunday was our chance to walk these ancient cobbled streets, and maybe poke about in a few saint's head-related touristy gift shops. However, the bloody clocks went forward, and we missed the train. I was already struggling to adjust to the +1hr of CET, changing times on my watch, alarm, Macbook, iPod, etc etc - totally forgetting that they had to advance another hour. So we arrived at Gare d'L'Est with half an hour to spare, bought tickets (€20 apiece), and casually noticed the lack of any Provins-bound trains on the destination boards. Erika asked a ticket information person - the next train for Provins was at 5pm. That would be a quick day trip.

So - we had an emergency Sunday day out in Paris. When I lived in Sydney, if I had such an occurrence, I'd go to Manly. Always the same, always great, always plenty to do. Being in one of the world's greatest cities as we were, it wasn't hard to find something to occupy us for a few hours. The weather was bright and sunny - something of a shock for me - so we wandered along the canal amongst relaxing Parisians out with their dogs, kids, bikes, cans of beer. They were sitting outside cafes in sunglasses looking at everyone who came past, clanging petanque boules around in giant cat litter trays, ruefully flicking through day-old copies of Le Monde and wondering whether to plump for Sarkozy or Royal. They were also gathering in their hundreds outside the Hotel de Ville - we inadvertantly blundered into a mass rollerblading rally to celebrate Frances' 50th year in the EU (I think). They were giving out free tshirts - if you know me, you can imagine the Richard-shaped cloud of smoke that appeared as I belted over to get one.*

We walked for miles, through twisty backstreets and main boulevards, into the Marais where every person in Paris was crammed between the buildings, shopping in one of the few areas where everything was open. Here tourists got in the way of locals, who spilled onto the narrow roads getting in the way of scooters who cut up cars. Women cycled along with dogs in their baskets, people gripped dark, twisted baguettes like looted treasure, at one corner of the Place des Vosges arcade a classical quintet chello'd out a number for the crowd. Everywhere you looked there was a classic Parisian scene. It really is one of the best cities in the world in which to stroll around, there is always something to look at, something to catch the eye. Every time I leave Paris I realise a little more how much I enjoy going there - and every time I leave I promise to myself I'll be returning as soon as I can.

* because it was a tshirt, not because I saw something free...

The Green Peril

2007-03-24T22:22:00.000Z

Items left at van Gogh's grave, Auvers-sur-Oise

In 1890 Paul Gachet was a village doctor in the small town of Auvers-sur-Oise, 16 miles north of Paris. He was also an amateur atist, and a serious hypochondriac. Because of his regard for the arts, he became renowned for treating painters for their many foibles and illnesses, advising amongst others Manet and Renoir. In May of that year, Camille Pissarro wrote to the good doctor about another troubled genius from the impressionist movement, Vincent van Gogh. Before that time Vincent had been staying at an asylum in Saint-Rémy, near Arles. He realised that if he moved north, he could live near his brother Theo, and talk through his issues with Dr. Gachet. So he moved to Auvers-sur-Oise.

As you can see from the photo above, it didn't go too well for him. He had a spectacular two months in the sleepy town, producing approximately seventy oil paintings in seventy days. His first impression of Dr. Gachet was not good - "He is sicker than I am, I think, or shall we say just as much." I'm not sure what Vincent thought of his new surroundings - he certainly cranked out some amazing art in that short period - but to me it looked like a typical French village as we turned up this afternoon on a battered local train on a day-trip whim (courtesy of the Rough Guide to Paris). Coming out of the station, a signpost pointed the way up an alley to the graves of the van Gogh brothers, so we followed it through the church grounds depicted in one of his final works.

Past the church the lane continued on, out of the shelter of the buildings and into an open field. The weather was still grey and cold, and the wind was fairly belting off the countryside as we scurried along to look at the simple headstone of a painter we knew little about. Eventually we found it, next to Theo's (who died of syphilis six months after Vincent shot himself in the stomach, in that very field). Covered in ivy, the small graves had merely the names and dates of the two brothers, Vincent's made slightly more remarkable by the offerings left by present-day admirers. There was nobody else around, it seemed as if the entire place was deserted - but thankfully we found a modern-looking restaurant open and had a fantastic three course meal for €20 apiece - terrine of rabbit, roast lamb and barley, and a selection of local cheeses. C'est superb!

Afterwards the weather was so rubbish something indoors was the only option. We had two choices - the Vincent van Gogh Museum, or the Absinthe Musem. So, apparently absinthe is derived from the mixture of certain herbs, including Anise, Fennel and the one nobody has ever heard of - Grand Wormwood. Initially given to French colonial forces in Algeria to ward off dysentary, it became the Parisian intellectuals' drug of choice (or one of them, at least) as the toxins it was said to contain had psycoactive properties. Entirely unrelatedly, sometimes manufacturers would add Zinc or Copper to make the liquid a more greenish colour. Yes - we walked past the van Gogh museum, and eargerly forked out €4.50 to find out more about a drink that tastes utterly vile. Or in my case, look at the pictures and then Google it when I got back to Paris to find out what it all meant.

The drink was banned in France in 1915 - giving me a good chance to use my legendary 'absinthe makes the heart grow fonder' joke (normally very hard to get into routine conversation - but when in a museum dedicated to the stuff, a crime not to wheel it out), not that it got a laugh. It's still banned today, although 'Wormwood based drinks', are not. It's definately still illegal to manufacture in the US, but not illegal to own it there. It was never banned in the UK, however (hoorah!). Apparently the gift shop of the museum in Auvers-sur-Oise is one of the few legal vendors of the stuff, and there were indeed several bottles behind the proprieter. But we had to make a sharp exit after I was caught taking photos inside, against her instructions, so I never got the chance to buy any. Not that I would, as it's truly disgusting stuff. Vincent van Gogh drank a huge amount of it during the last seventy days of his life - it was rumoured to have a significant effect on his mental health. He called it 'The Green Peril'.

Absinthe Museum website - apparently you have to be of legal drinking age to view this link - so don't tell your parents. Also, that's the woman who had a go at me for taking pictures, not unreasonably I have to say. This was the photo in question. Worth it, I think...

Gris à Paris

2007-03-23T18:14:00.000Z

Ou est la friterie?

So, here I am once again in Paris - I think this is my 6th visit now, possibly 7th. Only an hour from Edinburgh, but a completely different vibe going on (as you'd expect). I say only an hour, but in reality I left my flat yesterday at 11:30am and got to my friend Erika's at 8pm. British Airways, in their wisdom, decided to sell their BA Connect airline - the carrier for the Edinburgh to Paris CDG route, so until the new owners have sorted themselves out there were no flights available (or they had totally sold out). Either way, I had to travel the lengthy alternative via Glasgow, then Prestwick, then Beauvais "This looks like Cumbernauld Airport!" said the man in front of me at the arrivals queue - it is basically a tent in the middle of nowhere. Anyway, by the time I popped up from the Metro at Erika's local station, the neon signs for Tabacs and Pharmacies let me know exactly what country I was in.

The next morning, it was grey, cold and windy - as it always seems to be when I come here. So after a leisurely morning involving several pastries from the local boulangerie, we indulged in the age-old Parisian tradition of aimless wandering around the streets, punctuated with the occasional cup of coffee in a small, smoky cafe. After a while the leaden sky turned to heavy rain, and we quickened our pace a bit, ducking into the odd shop now and again. The highlight for me was undoubtedly coming across a large group (10-15) of Chinese tourists animatedly watching a man trying to parallel park a battered black Renault. The space he was going for was far too small, but being Parisian he nudged and bonked his way in (bumpers are for bumping, after all), each collision causing the crowd to shriek and point. Glaring at them, he eventually parked and rolled down the window, shouting at them in French, which Erika translated as along the lines of "This isn't a show for tourists! Why don't you piss off and go on a guided tour?"

The Birthday Bridge

2007-03-19T09:00:00.000Z

Today - the 19th of March - sees a very special birthday. If I had only a single card to send, it wouldn't be to Bruce Willis or Ursula Andress (and not just because they have yet to thank me for the Christmas card). It would be to that modern wonder of the world, the Sydney Harbour Bridge. It was officially opened 75yrs ago today, minutes after it was unofficially opened by a disgruntled sword-wielding army officer. I love the Harbour Bridge, it was a pleasure to see and travel over it when I lived in Sydney. By train on the way to work, I'd stand by the window so I could look out, even though I'd seen the same view the day before. Walking home from Milson's Point, as the sun was setting over the harbour, is one of my abiding memories of my time there. So to celebrate, here are the pick of the photos I took of the 'Coathanger' - the birthday bridge.

Shimmering in the sun, as the Manly ferry glides past

Three Sydney landmarks in one shot

From Circular Quay metro, I can't think of a better view from a station

Towering over the Rocks, wobbly streetlines and all

Blurry fireworks at New Year's Eve 2005

Crowds of people on Australia Day

Minutes after my final walk home over the bridge, at sunset

Harbour Bridge Celebrations [Sydney Morning Herald]
History of the bridge

Dinotastic!

2007-03-15T20:14:00.000Z

The other night on BBC2, the corporation's premier science outlet Horizon began a new series with a programme about dinosaurs. As I've mentioned before in various posts, I had a serious dino phase as a youngster - in fact almost all seven year old boys love them, I think it's in the rules along with liking throwing stones in water, getting dirty, and being generally insufferable. Later on as a biologist I began thinking about fossils in a more complex light than "Wow! Fossils are COOL!" (although admittedly only slightly more complex), I started wondering about what it would be like today had some things not happened the same way. Like if we'd flopped back into the sea, instead of starting to shimmy up trees. Or begun feeding our young by regurgitating food like seabirds. But one of the outcomes I've pondered off and on over the years most of all was the subject of this Horizon documentary - what would it be like if dinosaurs hadn't become extinct, and we lived here in modern times alongside them?

It was done in a half-jokey fashion, much to the annoyance of some of the following day's TV critics (the perennial 'dumbing down' debate). But the lengthy assumptions made in the science meant it needed to be done in a light-hearted manner. It's all just conjecture, namely the examples given had dinosaurs present as we commonly imagine them alongside our evolved selves - e.g. the idea that small dinos might have developed a similar urban role to foxes and raccoons. There was a great clip of a woman shooing a couple of them out of her bins - she should follow my Grandad and weight the lids down with bricks. Of course, reptiles had a head start over us of several million years - so allowing for development at similar rates, maybe we should be rooting about in their bins?

This was also touched on at the end - the idea that adapting to the changing Earth would have prodded dinosaurs into even more of a bipedal, upright method of getting around, in short - would they now be humanoid? Wonderfully, the programme finished with a selection of what looked like Dr Who extras shopping in a supermarket alongside normal-looking humans, albeit strangely unclothed. Wouldn't they have evolved modesty, too? Anyway, forgetting the 'scaly humans' side, if dinosaurs were around today in their Jurassic Park-type forms, what kind of uses would we have for them? What kind of uses would they have for us? (Food, mostly). Could we live side by side with them? Eat Stegosaur omelettes, ride T-Rex's to work? (you'd always get a parking space, at least).

Imagine going for a lovely walk in the country. Well, you probably couldn't. Swimming in the sea is definately out, too. Just look at the terrifying Pliosaur. Although that particular picture looks like a giant crazed penguin, it would still puncture your lilo. So there'd be no days at the beach, no walking the dogs (more on them later), no picnics. Forgetting the cheese knife would be the least of your problems. Every day, people would be garishly rendered by terrible creatures just by stepping into the countryside. It would be like living in Australia, basically. Dino exterminators would make a fortune, as unwelcome giant lizards find their way into garden sheds. It would take a lot of boiling water to get rid of a nest of those things, I can tell you. They would be hunted remorselessly, blunder in front of trains, knock over power lines, eat fields of crops, and savage Tokyo with strangely blue breath.

So yes, on the one hand it would lead to untold misery and destruction, and death on a colossal scale. But it would be fun though. For a start, there's be no dogs or cats. Primitive humans wouldn't have bothered domesticating the wolf, when they could hunt using velociraptors. Pets would be a thousand times better. Forget horse racing - you could go to a sport where the mounts wouldn't just refuse to jump a fence, they'd eat the jockey. Dinosaurs were found on every ancient continent (including Antarctica), so there'd be no need to trek to deepest Africa to see some exciting large wildlife, you could just go to the local park with a frisbee and you'd hit something toothy and bad-tempered (probably not a good idea, actually). I have to say, if I co-existed on Earth with dinosaurs, I'd even start wearing Fred Flinstone-esque caveman gear - and for that reason alone, it would be fantastic.

Horizon Dinosaur Special

Making ironing fun

2007-03-08T22:07:00.000Z

Ray and Dean letting the iron do the work

It's been a tough few weeks for the digital TV industry here in the UK. Firstly, the 'ring and win' channel ITV Play was heavily censured for misleading viewers. Basically, they pose a query - in this case 'Name an item commonly found in a woman's handbag', and you phone in to guess the answers, some of which will win cash prizes. The example they gave was 'mobile phone' - and viewers started to add their guesses - at 75p a time - along the lines of keys, makeup, diary etc. Trouble was, the answers turned out to be 'plane tickets, ibuprofen, dog, mittens, driving licence, contact lenses, umbrella, elastic band, false teeth, dog biscuits, directions, balaclava, and Rawlplugs'. Amazingly the first seven of these were guessed correctly, but miffed viewers complained to the broadcasting regulator, Ofcom, who ruled that ITV’s solutions “were not reasonable answers to what appeared to be a straightforward question”.

Then last week customers of the newly hyped Virgin Media service had some of their channels blanked from their (paid) subscriptions, because of a long-running feud between Virgin and Sky. Licensing agreements couldn't be reached, so Sky took their ball home with them and removed the content from Virgin's cable package - effectively pulling the plug on thousands of households who had already forked out money for a guaranteed service. However, this was soon brushed aside as a few days later another TV storm broke, when several leading premium rate phone ins were taken off the air as it was revealed some channels ran 'live' competitions that had been pre-recorded, so viewers calling in their answers were competing in competitions that didn't exist. One of the guilty parties was ITV Play, which was hurriedly pulled off the air.

So what's going on with digital telly? Surely this never happened in the days of only four channels. Back then, you actually had to change programmes by physically getting up and walking over to the telly to push the button. Apart from my Uncle Pete, who bought a ten foot length of cane from a garden centre, pushed a cork on the end, and used it to prod the telly from across the room (it was also perfect for prodding my brother). Today, the 'original four' - or three if you remember prior to 1982 when C4 started - have spread into dozens of others - BBC3, BBC4, ITV2, ITV3, ITV4, ITV Play (although not at the time of writing), E4, E4+1 (E5?), More 4, More 4+1 (More 5?). Not to mention the new competition, the channels from other providers that languish at the higher end of the Freeview listings (we don't have cable, or anything fancy). Are any of these actually worth watching?

A few days ago I conducted a small experiment. Between 8-9pm I randomly chose a high numbered channel, and sat through an entire hour of primetime television output, to see if really there was anything to grab the attention. I don't know what I was expecting, but if the TV producers out there are regularly chucking out the standard of programme I watched, then I can only salute them, as it was truly brilliant. I chose number 22, which turned out to be the 'Ideal World Channel', of which I had never heard. For a solid hour of open-mouthed amazement, I observed 'Ironing Solutions with Laura Star, hosted by Dean Wilson'. It was sixty minutes (plus commercials - all of which were about Ideal World's products) of two men trying to flog irons.

But no ordinary iron! (which was pretty much their prime selling point) - the LauraStar Steamax G2, with 3.5bar Swiss steam generator, multi-directional soleplate (with optional pressing soleplate), and a whopping 0.8dl boiler. Yours for a penny under £190. The show was hosted by an incredibly cheerful ironing fetishist called Dean Wilson - his bio on the official Ideal World website (yes, I looked it up) says 'Dean has been presenting live TV for 12 years and, with his unique style and cheeky approach to life, he likes to bring a smile to the faces of the viewers.' Indeed. His job was to coax us smiling viewers to parting with the cash by prompting the 'expert' into demonstrations of the iron's stunning performance. That particular expert was a bloke called Ray - and if Dean quite liked ironing, let's just say Ray probably has prefect pleats in his sexual organs.*

"I'm ex-army and I'm ex-navy and I want creases down my shirts," he said at one point, causing me to hestitate in poking fun at him. Do the armed forces have a laundry division? I suppose navy uniforms can get heavily stained.** Ray quickly got to work, steaming a selection of creased garments, some of which were crumpled by the able Dean beforehand - like when an escapologist gets a punter to check that the padlocks are real before slipping them off. In one instance, he held up a blue shirt, saying "When you get off a plane, this is what your clothes look like," before swiftly skimming the iron over a garment that looked like it had been trampled by a herd of elephants. He solemnly explained how the Steamax G2 tackled the 'three D's of ironing' - Dark (it avoids the unwanted shine effect), Delicates (causing Dean to squawk 'You can't iron that!' as he brought out a spangly chiffon sari - which of them it belonged to was never revealed), and Don't Know (as in 'I don't know if I can iron this').

It was a revelation. With this product, no longer do you have to turn things inside out to iron them. The reason being, the steam is cold - which Ray demonstrated by pointing the thing at his face and calmly blasting a jet of vapour at himself, as Dean hurriedly shouted "Do not try this at home, folks!!!". He also became something of the philosopher - "You've got to iron for the rest of your life whether you like it or not," - obviously his dual-service combat laundry experience has given him a reflective outlook. My response to that point would be 'not if the iron stays in the cupboard', but it was Dean who continually nudged us along into thinking our lives couldn't possibly be complete without this product. "I'm really passionate about this - I usually spend an hour a week at my ironing board, it took me fifteen minutes to do these jeans!", he explained, probably trying to curry favour with Ray.

For a solid hour they badgered away with this, steaming creases into pillowcases while admonishing the UK for their lax ironing standards - "Some people don't iron their duvet covers, Ray!" "I know, Dean. I know." The stock flew off the unseen shelves, in fact at one point they added extra stock - strictly against Ideal World regulations! "I don't normally do this, you know," said Dean, almost believably. They shifted the lot (although it was never revealed how many they originally had), even when at one hilarious moment, Dean pointed out to Ray that he had missed a bit and left a lapel wrinkled - "Yes, yes - but I'm doing it quickly, aren't I?" he snapped, tossing the jacket off-screen before they could get a closeup of it. So did I ring up and order one? No, of course not. But then I was busy on the phone anyway. I've got to keep my place in the queue for when ITV Play comes back on the air. I'm going to answer Rawlplugs to every question...

* or rather, Ray allegedly has prefect pleats in his sexual organs.
** Feel free to add your own joke at this point.

Idealworld.tv
Laura Star UK

Spring in the City

2007-03-04T22:25:00.000Z

I can never remember when Spring officially begins - but the start of March is usually near enough. The first signs are always the crocuses, they sprout en masse in a multitude of colours. Here they carpet Charlotte Square in the west end of the city centre. Behind is the St. Pauls-esque dome of West Register House (it was designed in 1811 as a copy of the famous London cathedral), now home to the National Archives of Scotland. The horseback statue is Prince Albert, and was unveiled by Queen Victoria herself.

My local neighbourhood doesn't have many crocuses about, but it looks much brighter than ususal in the afternoon sunshine. The distinctive Edinburgh four-storey sandstone tenement buildings march off down the hill, windows gleaming. Here's the same view (from the other direction) 100yrs ago.

Built in 1870, Fettes College is the swankiest public school in a city full of them. Wealthy city merchant Sir William Fettes gave £166,000 (in 1815) for the education of poor children and orphans. Fees are now rumoured to be around the £20,000 mark - it has occasionally been called the 'Eton of the North', partly because of it's image, and partly because students study for English A-Level qualifications instead of Scottish 'Highers'. Tony Blair went to Fettes, and so did James Bond (Ian Fleming wrote that he had been transferred from Eton for an 'amorous incident with a maid'). Ironically, Sean Connery's pre-acting job as a milkman may have taken him here too, as apparently Fettes was near his route.

The best place for fans of the family Iridaceae to head for is undoubtedly the Meadows, where they fling themselves out of the ground left right and centre. I know nothing about Crocuses, so I looked them up on Wikipedia - as I do for most things I need to learn more about. 'The name of the genus is derived from the Latin adjective crocatus, meaning saffron yellow', apparently. Also, it turns out they do not grow from bulbs, but corms - they may look identical, but inside have a solid structure instead of a layered one. So don't let me catch you asking for Crocus bulbs again, eh?

So my crocus knowledge is zero. But I do know about the Meadows, having lived near it for over five years and walked along every inch of it's pathways at some point or another. A large semi-circular park on the southside of the city - after the Crocuses have come and gone thousands of yellow daffodils appear, by which point the cherry trees have started to blossom. Much of this is wasted on the local student populations as they scurry from their lectures to the pubs. And who could blame them?

So, Edinburgh gripped by the joys of Spring. About an hour after I took this photo, it was pouring down...

Find this in your supermarket

2007-02-25T19:45:00.000Z

Fasole cu carnati - Romania's staple

Following on from my previous post about the UK's national dish (the mighty CTM), I've been looking into other countries' favourite meals, those that reflect who they are and their attitudes to food and cuisine. Wikipedia has a list of some of these, slightly contentious in parts - Scotland's National dishes are apparently haggis and deep-fried Mars Bars (although I've written about that before too, so I'm just as guilty of stereotyping I guess). In fact, England's other national dishes include the English breakfast, Northern Ireland's is the Irish Fry (a 'heart attack on a plate'), and Wales has Welsh Rarebit - "It is made by grating cheese, blending it with beer or a little milk and butter, seasoning (particularly with mustard), and spreading the mixture onto hot toast; the whole is then grilled in the British fashion: that is, heated briskly from above". The sick man of Europe, eh?

But what about other nations? What if you're in the mood for a Venezuelan? Or are in Tescos and can't decide between the Bryndzové halušky or the Gado-Gado? We've all been in a foreign country and pointed hopefully at something on a menu, only to have the nearby diners suddenly hush as you inadvertantly order the 'curried pelican testicles à la mode'. Hopefully you might avoid such trouser-loosening incidents if you learn a couple of popular dishes for your destination, and stick to them. Some can be all-encompassing - like the Korean speciality Bibimbap, which I first had on a plane somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. Meaning 'mixed meal', it's a DIY stew involving some or all of white rice, chicken, beef, fried egg, chilli, prawns, cucumber, courgette, tofu, carrot, radish, fish, mushrooms, doraji (bellflower root), spinach, soybean sprouts, and gosari (bracken fern stems). Apparently sometimes a leaf of lettuce may be added - but you want to leave room for the ice cream afterwards.

Stews seem to be fairly popular in the national dish stakes. Brazilians have their Feijoada (black turtle beans with salted pork trimmings [ears, tail, feet], bacon, smoked pork ribs, at least two types of smoked sausage and jerked beef loin and tongue). A good one will be dark purplish-brown, apparently. Vietnam has Phở, which Wikipedia helpfully mention is 'pronounced /fə/ or /fʌ/ by English-speakers', although my Vietnamese source told me to pronounce it 'Phur', and I know better to argue with her, don't I Lan? Eastern Europe does a good line in stews, of course - like Goulash, Borscht, and so forth.

Scandinavian countries famously enjoy a slightly acquired taste in fish products. The Swedes have Lutefisk - air-dried Cod soaked in a mixture of water and lye (caustic soda) until it reaches a pH of 11-12, putting it dangerously close to household bleach (pH 12.5). Leave it too long, and the fish fats turn to soap - saippuakala in Finnish, or 'soapfish'. Before this stage is reached the Lutefisk is soaked for another five days to make it edible, although I've never actually tried it. However I'd happily sample it if the alternative was Hákarl - the Icelandic shark dish left to putrify in gravel pits for up to three months. Dryly referred to as an 'acquired taste', fresh Greenland Shark meat is said to make people vomit blood - but rotten, it tastes of strong cheese. Mmmmm.

Staying underwater, as it were, we find the famed Japanese delicacy Fugu. An unfortunately toxic species of pufferfish, I saw them swimming around in grimy tanks outside seafood restaurants in Tokyo, and for sale at the Tsukiji fishmarket. It has been banned on several occasions throughout Japanese history, and is apparently the only foodstuff the Emperor is not allowed to eat, for his own safety. Since 1958, only qualified chefs can prepare it. Wikipedia has a great quote on the rigorous testing procedure they undergo. "The fugu apprentice needs a two- or three-year apprenticeship before being allowed to take an official test. The test consists of a written test, a fish identification test, and a practical test of preparing fugu and then eating it. Only 30% of the applicants pass the test. This, of course, does not mean that 70% die from poisoning; rather, they made a small mistake in the long and complicated procedure of preparing the dish." Wiki also reveals the most prized part of the fish - "the more poisonous testicles of the fugu can also be eaten; they contain a milky liquid and taste slightly salty." Actually, I think I'll have the shark.

How to prepare Hákarl

One of these is me...

2007-02-20T19:14:00.000Z

How to do it...

How not to do it...

No prizes for guessing...

Beautiful but deadly?

2007-02-15T22:26:00.000Z

Bondi - stunning but treacherous

A while ago, to celebrate my 200th post, I wrote about some of the ways people find this blog, and the things they are really looking for. Postwise, I'm nearer 300 now, but the ways the people of the internetosphere stumble bemused onto these pages still fascinate me. As well as the previously mentioned Blogger tracking tool, I've also got a widget on my trusty, yellowing MacBook called Google Analytics - which gives me so much information about you lovely readers it's almost frightening. Graphs, pie charts, keywords, entry and exit points, it's got the lot. I can sit here in my cold Scottish castle and discover what computer you use, your co-ordinates, who you voted for on X-Factor, anything. Through this, I learned what my most popular post of all time is, and not only is it surprising, but just how popular it is is astonishing.

Just under 6% of all my readers look at this one page. They all, without exception, arrive there by typing the same four words into Google (the search engine drags in 36% of my total visitors). It was a post I wrote very early on, when I was just getting the hang of blogging - and my ramblings were noticeably shorter. In fact, as I sit here writing this, four out of the last fourteen people to read DUaB arrived here searching for that one subject - it's incredible. I have the wonders of Google to thank, of course, as if you type the four words (which I'm not revealing yet, as you may have noticed) into their search engine you get 15,500,000 results - the top hit being me. Blimey.

So why do I mention this now? I promise you it's not to blow my own trumpet - it all relates to this Guardian Article last week from the Australian Bureau of Statistics and the National Coroner's Information System, which I read while eating my lunch one afternoon at work. As DUaB regulars will know (the 34 of you that have 200+ visits each, my 'Platinum Elite'), I started this thing when I moved to Australia to let people know I was still alive and hadn't been eaten by any of the thousands of killer animals, fish and plants us Brits think live down under. Essentially some statto type (and I know I've no grounds to criticise), has worked out how many unfortunate tourists have died in Oz over the last seven years - 2,433 of them. Almost one a day.

The majority of these tragic cases are natural causes, and have to be comparable with the number of people who fall ill and die on holiday anywhere else. Take out car crashes, and the number reduces even further. But Australia does have a dangerous reputation. This article in China's People's Daily newspaper warns would-be visitors of things to watch out for, under the title 'Deadly creatures lurk amid summer paradise', and goes on at length about snakes, spiders and crocodiles. Personally, I think the wildlife dangers are over-emphasised somewhat, and when the most dangerous native creature here can dish out a slight nibbling at worst, we tend to freak out at the merest glimpse of something scaly, or eight-legged. Or at least I do.

Apart from my close encounter with a very large spider, the only dangers I rountinely faced were from the local takeaway curry house on Victoria Street. But my frankly weedy swimming ability meant I deliberately didn't expose myself to one of the greatest risks of Sydney life - the beaches. I don't mean sharks (although there have been two attacks recently), but the currents. Australian beaches are iconic - and none more than Bondi. But it has a fearsome rip tide, and continually people get into trouble without realising the risks. Already in 2007, eight people have drowned in the city. 210 had to be rescued over the course of the last weekend in January, as temperatures soared into the 40's. Bondi sees a lot of rescues, as new arrivals visit what is arguably the world's most famous beach, and go into the water unaware of the danger.

But do foreigners really think down under is so dangerous, or is it just a much played-upon stereotype? Well, that brings me back to the most popular DUaB post, and those four most searched for words. They are 'Bad Things About Australia'. Be prepared...but don't be put off...

'Bad Things About Australia' DUaB post (1st December 2004)

Australia's fatal charms claim thousands of tourists [Guardian]
Australian Bureau of Statistics website

Things I learned this week

2007-02-08T22:44:00.000Z

Where's the duckpond?

Last Sunday was the Superbowl - the orgy of consumption and over-excess that signals the end of the American Football season. I stay up every year to watch it, and traditionally take the following day off work. Even when I was temping in Sydney I managed it, although temps weren't allowed time off - I mysteriously succumbed to a case of 'Superbowlitis' and couldn't come in on that Monday. Miraculously I had recovered by the Tuesday. These 24hr bugs, you know how it is. Anyhow, this Monday gone I was off work (legitimately) and spent most of it sat on the sofa in my lounging trousers in a hungover fug of lack of sleep, sore eyes, and several hundredweight of tortilla chips very, very slowly working their way through. Comforted by the warming feeling of the Macbook on my lap - and boy do they get warm - I fell back on the best way to spend a lazy hour(s) - trawling Wikipedia for facts. Here's what I found - I pass on these titbits, in the hope that you too will grow as a person from having discovered them. May your laps always be warm.

1. The Smallest Park in the World
[park (noun) - a large public green area in a town, used for recreation]. I'm not quite sure what kind of recreation you would be able to do in Mill Ends Park, Portland. Forget the frisbee. Leave the dog at home. At 0.3sq metres, you'd probably struggle to walk your pet woodlouse. Created in 1948 as a refuge for leprechauns to hold snail races (I kid you not), the park sits in the middle of a pedestrian crossing cunningly disguised as a flowering pot plant. But it was fully inaugurated in 1976, and at less than two feet across, makes for a fun (and brief) day out. Link

2. The Saint who didn't go quickly
Saint Teresa of Ávila is the patron saint of Spain, Croatia, headaches, and lacemakers. She founded the Discalced Brethren in November 1568 - 'discalced' being a fancy term for 'shoeless', apparently (one for crossword addicts there). She once had a rather painful-sounding vision - a seraph repeatedly driving a golden lance through her heart - after which she cried out what became her motto - "Lord Let Me Suffer Or Let Me Die" (I think every saint has to have a catchphrase). Someone up there obviously has a sense of humour, as she died at midnight on the 4th of October 1582 - the exact moment Spain switched to the Gregorian calendar. To fit this new system, the day after jumped directly to the 15th of October, the Lord therefore letting her die peacefully in her sleep over the course of 11 days that never existed. Link

3. The Ploughman's Lunch Deception
'A ploughman's lunch is a cold meal - featuring at a minimum, a thick piece of cheese, pickle, crusty bap or chunk of bread, and butter. It is often accompanied by a green salad; other common additions are half an apple, celery, pâté, sliced hard-boiled egg or beetroot.' Pâté? Keep all those EU subsidies rolling in! But the article continues...'In Britain ploughing is usually done during winter. At that time of year the ploughman’s wife or mother would have been unlikely to include salad in the ploughman’s lunch. Err, yeah. I guess. 'Green vegetables would be difficult to get in winter.' Hmmm. I smell a rat. 'A real ploughman's lunch would have more likely consisted of just cheese and pickle.' So...so what's the deal? 'Lexicographer Edwin Radford in To Coin a Phrase (1974) attributes the current usage to Richard Trehane, chairman of the English Country Cheese Council.' The buggers! Working in cahoots with the English Crusty Bap Council, no doubt. Link

4. How many mice live on the Tube?
Half a million, give or take - covered in brake dust so they appear black. London Underground facts have their own Wiki entry, and there are some fascinating pearls amongst them. Five stations are named afer nearby pubs: Angel, Elephant & Castle, Manor House, Royal Oak and Swiss Cottage. The shortest distance between stations is 250m - Covent Garden to Leicester Square on the Picadilly Line (which your author has, for some reason, timed at 19 seconds). If you buy a single ticket for that journey you'll be paying the equivalent of £25 a mile. The recording of "MIND THE GAP" is spoken by a studio sound engineer, after the actor hired to read the line insisted on royalty payments and it had to be re-recorded after he had left. And if you think the Tube smells bad - on the 23rd March 2001 a specially created fragrance called 'Madelaine' was pumped into Picadilly Circus underground. It was discontinued after a single day as it made people feel sick. Link

5. 110 million editors can't be wrong
Well, they can - Wikipedia isn't an exact science. The site's most innovative selling point is also it's biggest source of controversy. Allowing anybody to edit articles leaves Wiki open to error, feuds, lies, and practical jokes. Ranging from my mate Craig's attempts to prevent people cluttering up his favourite listings with pointless waffle, to the man who was sacked from his job for creating a fake biography of his boss, linking him to the Kennedy assassination. The scandals must be good publicity - Wikipedia is currently the 12th most popular site on the internet. In case you were wondering what people actually use it for, the ten most commonly read pages out of the 1,626,814 articles it contains are: Wiki statistics (3.9m views per day), Wikipedia Main Page, Saddam Hussein, Sex, United States of America, Naruto, (a manga series) Wii, Gerald Ford, List of Sex Positions, WWII [as of Jan '07 - List in full]
Link

Bottom 100 Mammals

2007-02-02T17:55:00.000Z

'Scruffy overgrown shrew' in action...

"For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction" Newton said once - although apparently he said something far more complex, but was probably babbling after getting brained by that apple. There are similar sayings and philosophies, like that credit card advert where someone does something clever so around the world another person has to be stupid to act as a counterbalance. Basically, it seems whenever anything good happens, there could well be a bad turn around the corner. Only a few months ago, I brought you the story* of the Cypriot Mouse, a brand new species of mammal discovered in Europe. It may have escaped your attention over the festive period, but recently we lost a species of mammal - albeit from slightly further afield.

The 2006 Yangtze Freshwater Dolphin Expedition travelled almost 4,000 miles in two weeks along the Chinese river, with monitors constantly scanning the yellowy water for one of the animals, known in Wuhan as Baiji. But they didn't find any. The co-leader, a Swiss scientist called August Fluger, said afterwards "We have to accept the fact that the Baiji is functionally extinct". Under the gaze of the world's cameras, a species vanished. River dolphins have slipped through the murky waters of eastern China for 20 million years, and have now become arguably the first large mammal species eradicated by human activity in the modern era (that we know of), especially when as recently as 1980 there were over 400 in the very same river. There are four other species of freshwater dolphins in the world, all critically endangered.

This brings me to a list. The Zoological Society for London (ZSL) have recently launched a new organisation called EDGE of existence, with a remit to '...conserve the world's most Evolutionarily Distinct and Globally Endangered (EDGE) species by implementing the research and conservation actions needed to secure their future'. By sending scientists to work with local experts and wildlife students in the countries where these species live, they can hopefully give these amazingly rare animals more of a chance. You, the public, can donate money to schemes to help the creatures and the students involved. Targeting individual types of fluffy things designed to appeal isn't new in conservation - but EDGE are doing things slightly differently, in that the things they are after might be fluffy, but most of them sure aren't cute.

The New Guinea Big-Eared Bat is one of them, and it may be too late for them as well. EDGE have released a list of the 100 most critically endangered mammals in the world, with the Baiji an unfortunate (and now possibly absent) number one. The NGBEB hasn't been seen since 1890, when an enthusiastic collector bagged 45 at once, and may have destroyed an entire species in one field trip. The top, or as it should probably be - bottom - 100 mammals left may be only 95 at the moment, the Vietnamese Leaf-Nosed Bat hasn't been seen for 60yrs, and is only known from a single individual. EDGE use an interesting system to work out which animals to concentrate on - those that are ecologically distinct or unique and are on the IUCN Red List, so putting more emphasis on unusual species.

Of course, the Giant Panda and Blue Whale are featured, but then also are such incredible oddities as the Handley's Slender Mouse Opossum, which is so rare there's no picture of it, and scientists don't know exactly where it lives, what it eats, or how it reproduces. Apparently it's quite slim, though. What about the Senkaku Mole? Confined to a single 4km island, they were only discovered in 1991, and are currently under threat from 300 goats trampling their burrows. The undoubted cutest of the lot, is the Long-Eared Jerboa, but there are other things with wierd and wonderful names, like the Hainan Gymnure, the Dinagat Moonrat, and the Hispaniolan Solenodon.

Predicatably because they sound strange, and look strange, most of them are incredibly strange. The solenodon (of which there are two in the top five) resembles 'a scruffy overgrown shrew' and produces toxic saliva that it injects through snake-like grooved fangs. The Sumatran Rabbit is so rare that locals don't have a name for it in their own language - which must present a problem to visiting well-meaning biologists. The Golden Bamboo Lemur exists solely on poisonous bamboo shoots, consuming 12 times the lethal dose of cyanide for most other mammals every day. The Volcano Rabbit rather unfortunately lives only on the slopes of lava-spewing mountains on the outskirts of the food-deprived population of Mexico City. I could go on. These things are incredible, and need your support. Who would want to live in a world without scruffy killer shrews and volcanic bunnies?

*Or I read it somewhere and quickly re-hashed it

EDGE of existence 100 List
Zoological Society for London
2006 Yangtze Freshwater Dolphin Expedition

'Normal blokes cocking about'

2007-01-28T22:28:00.000Z

The Top Gear team (L-R) Clarkson, Hammond, May

8pm to 9pm Sunday evening was one of those TV head-to-heads that cause bickering across the nation's living rooms. On BBC 1, Kevin Costner's hauntingly timeless portrayal of Robin Hood Prince of Thieves went more or less completely ignored (and not just because of that bloody Bryan Adams song), as the live finale of Celebrity Big Brother went up against the start of the new series of the motoring programme, Top Gear. It'll be interesting to see the viewing figures for the major channels - I'm not holding out much hope for Channel Five's rerun of the Nutty Professor in that particular battle. Rather, 'Five' as the channel is simply referred to these days. I'm sure inevitably it will become '5ve', then just '5', then 'ƒ', or something. The nation's remotes, clickers, zappers, widgets (depending on where you come from) were doubtless fought over as the UK chose between feckless gits hooting at the stupid and racist; and Big Brother.

For the uninitiated - and in this case that basically means for the non-Brits reading this - the annual slagfest of Celebrity Big Brother has this year been crapped to a new low by the gormlessness of Jade Goody and the rest, but then spectacularly enlivened by allegations of racist bullying from three female celebrities towards the Bollywood actress Shilpa Shetty. Tens of thousands of complaints from members of the public launched police investigations, caused questions to be asked in the House of Commons, and even the burning of effigies in the streets of Shetty's Indian home city. Oh, and soaring ratings. With the future of the Big Brother format hanging in the balance, and even the future of Channel 4 uncertain as well - London Mayor Ken Livingstone called for them to be stripped of their franchise for their racism, which is a tad rich coming from him, I think - Shilpa won the contest by a landslide public vote.

But going against that - and if I was still a betting man, getting more viewers than it - was the first episode of the ninth series of Top Gear. Again, for my international friends, it's a light-hearted topical motoring show with a mixture of fast cars, reviews, and mindless pyrotechnics. Having said that, the show's Wikipedia entry says right near the beginning that it has 350 million viewers worldwide, so you probably already know about it. Presented by three 'normal blokes cocking about' to use their own words - Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond and James May - the franchise was rejuvenated in 2002 after being cancelled the previous year due to falling viewing figures. Since then the knockabout format has pulled in the public, and also a few Emmy's and BAFTA awards. But the series 'rocketed' to the UK's attention when a landspeed attempt last summer went appallingly wrong, and almost killed Richard Hammond in a 288mph dragster crash. Tonight, in that first new episode they showed the footage of the accident, and the nation tuned in.

I don't think I ever used to watch Top Gear, even in the musty days of Quentin Wilson and Tiff Needell - and certainly back then Big Brother was just a glint in a Dutch TV executive's eye. Since Jeremy Clarkson took over presenting duties, it was banned in our house - along with anything featuring Noel Edmonds, Jeremy Beadle, or Tommy Cooper (the latter for a very good reason, which we don't discuss). And I certainly don't watch Big Brother, ahem, of course. However, having said all that, Clarkson can be - look away now Dad - highly amusing. For instance, here is his review of the Vauxhall Vectra VXR - a vast improvement on the Mark One Vectra, which he reviewed by 'remaining mute and drumming his fingers on the roof of the car for a full minute.' Yet it's also highly annoying at the same time. I just don't get it.

You get the feeling that the producers of Big Brother would leave a dead hooker in the house to generate ratings, so the BBC's decision to wait until now to show the footage of Hammond rolling through the grass is fair enough, I guess. I did watch it - if nothing else to get the info so I could write this post - and it was rather odd to see the studio audience essentially cheer him for not dying. But it was handled well, after the usual cocking about - and a rather amusing attempt to repave a section of road in 24hrs - they showed the tape and had Hammond describe what was going on. At almost the exact time over on Channel 4 Shilpa Shetty was being crowned the winner of BB, an item which made second place on the BBC's 10 o'clock news (Hammond's return was the next piece).

So why do I like watching Top Gear? It crassly glamourises speed - something the show's producers adamantly deny - it gives Clarkson a stage for his sometimes iffy sense of humour, and tonight's celebrity guest was Jamie Oliver, for pity's sake. I have no interest in cars, I've never driven or even had a lesson. I don't know one end from another, when they talk about horsepower and transmissions and stuff they may as well be talking a foreign language. They rely far too much on daft stunts, blowing up caravans and soforth, and they do it all in front of a braying studio audience of sycophants. But it's great. I can't explain it, I watch it every week, feeling slightly dirty. Of course, when put up against Big Brother, I'd quite happily watch anything. Even Kevin 'I'm Rah-bin of Lock-ersley' Costner on the other side...

Apologies over 'racist abuse' on BB
Official Top Gear website
Top Gear presenter critically injured
Top Gear's Hammond cheats death
Youtube clip of Top Gear's aquatic car challenge

Bonus Canada photos

2007-01-26T18:52:00.000Z

This fantastic photo was taken by Craig from the top of Grouse Mountain - 'The Peak of Vancouver' as the blurb on it's website says. A privately owned mountain, which is an odd concept to me, on top are plenty of ski runs and other entertainments. They got a great day for their trip, as every day after that it was shrouded in rain and mist. We did go for a walk near the base, and could just about see the large gondola cable car whirring into the murk. This view looks due south, with North Vancouver in the foreground, then the green of Stanley Park joined to the downtown, and over the next short stretch of water is Kitsilano where we stayed - the slight green bump in the dead centre of the picture.

Looking out of the grimy front window of the SeaBus crossing over to the city of North Vancouver, one of the outer suburbs of Vancouver - not to be confused with West Vancouver, which is also to the north. It lies adjacent to the District of North Vancouver, all of which are part of the Greater Vancouver Regional District. By the time you've worked all this out, you're across Burard Inlet and have arrived. The jetty reminded me slightly of Manly, a large floating pontoon with a food court attached. The cloud in the photo was lying over Grouse Mountain, as mentioned above, and the shipping clogging the channel were large tankers making their slow way to the city port. Industrial containers and huge mounds of yellow sulphur for export awaited them.

The False Creek Foot Ferries (easier to type than say), ply their dinky trade around the centre of Vancouver. From the bridges over the water they look like toy boats you might play with in the bath, and up close they look just as small. For $2.50, you get a short trip over the inlet that would take half an hour on foot, so they are well worth it. But each one can hold about twenty people at the very most, so they are mainly used by tourists rather than locals. Here's a closer view of them I took on Granville Island before our short jaunt over to English Bay beach. It took about five minutes, but it was well worth it.

Backpackers getting a free show. Part of the experience of staying in hostels are the fire alarms that (usually) happen at night. Andy took this just after we arrived, and in our sleep-deprived state had gone out for beer and burgers in an attempt to revive us. A cheap backpacker hotel had apparently either had a fire or a false alarm - we weren't sure which - but the fire crews had turned up to give the tall building the once over. Denied entry to their dorms, these guys had grabbed a pizza from next door and were sitting on the back of a fire engine to watch the spectacle.

Montréal's old town, or Vieux-Montréal, is one of the oldest urban areas in North America. Some of the buildings date from the 17th Century, and this greenish dome is the Marché Bonsecours, opened in 1847. As any reader who passed Tricoloré-level French at school will know, marché is a market - "Escuse moi, monseur, ou est la marché s'il vous plait?" was my stock phrase learned for a 4th year trip to Normandy (we had to ask someone at least one thing each). From what I can remember, the accosted Frenchman pointed over my shoulder at the large outdoor fruit market we were standing next to, and walked off. No such people to ask here, as Vieux-Montréal was largely deserted on a cold midweek morning.

The 1967 World's Fair was held in Montréal after Moscow discovered at the eleventh hour they couldn't bring together the funds needed. The mayor of the growing Quebec city decided to not only host the event, but host it on a series of specially-built islands in the St Lawrence seaway, constructed from the earth excavated when the city's Metro was tunnelled. There were 90 pavilions, including this - the Habitat '67 housing complex on the Quai Marc-Drouin, designed by architect Moshe Safdie. Meant to depict affordable housing of the future, ironically now that future has arrived they are highly sought after and very exclusive. Here is the Habitat '67 website, with pictures of the units themselves, which actually look quite nice close up.

The wrong kind of snow

2007-01-22T22:12:00.000Z

Totally gnarly! (and soforth)

Another of the UK's great institutions is under threat. I'm talking not about the House of Lords or Big Brother here - I'm talking about Ski Sunday. With it's immediately recognisable theme tune, for almost twenty years it was fronted by the legendary David Vine, usually pictured standing ruddy-cheeked halfway up an Alpine slope cheerily introducing the latest downhill action. I know these days 'legendary' is an over-used word, but it certainly applies to Vine when you look at the list of TV programmes he's fronted over the years - Sportscene, It's a Knockout, Quiz Ball, Rugby Special, Match of the Day, A Question of Sport, Grandstand, Superstars, Starshot, the Winter and Summer Olympic Games, the Eurovision Song Contest, Miss World, Wimbledon, and the snooker - the latter two for 20yrs apiece.

We used to watch it almost every week in our house, although to my knowledge no member of my family has ever been skiing, or has any interest in winter sports. It served a useful stopgap between the end of Sunday Grandstand and the beginning of the decent evening television - and it didn't involve antiques, which is always a danger in that part of the schedules. Back in those days, it was always the Austrians and the Swiss that dominated the downhill in their distinctive colours (which I think were red and yellow respectively). There were always a few token Italians, Germans, Canadians and French taking part, as well as the various 'comedy nations' - like the British. The lone Brit would always run near the end in semi-darkness and trail in 45th, whilst men in overalls swept the deserted finish area.

It's an incredibly dangerous activity, of course, and whenever a lyca-clad tyrolean would cartwheel into the red netting it would be greeted with a hoot of laughter from certain quarters of my family - although not me, compassionate soul that I am. My Dad still talks about the Japanese skier who fell over exiting the starting gate, for example. Back then Ski Sunday focused almost solely on the downhill, with the odd slalom event thrown in for a bit of variety. These days it features all kinds of things, including jokey comic sections where the current presenters make their own equipment out of ironing boards and film the results - the Top Gear pillocks have got a lot to answer for. As if that weren't enough, Ski Sunday also now includes that impudent upstart of 'people on planks' - snowboarding.

Not just tricks and jumps, but the high-octane Snowboard Cross (or Border Cross), where four riders belt down a narrow funnel at once, over obstacles, and includes a fair bit of argy-bargy - it's the closest thing to Rollerball I can think of. Somehow I managed to watch the debut women's Olympic final in Turin last year, whilst I was on holiday in Paris. It was certainly spectacular, crashes and controversy even before the clear leader - American Lyndsey Jacobellis - attempted a needless trick over the final jump and fell over, losing the gold medal to the Swiss rider Tanja Frieden who had fallen and was making up ground (which I think my Dad would have appreciated).

But even this is under threat, as I hinted at the start - and it's all down to the weather. Alpine Europe is currently in the midst of a snow crisis, as vastly below-average falls have seen many resorts closed. The OECD has warned that many low-level resorts could soon be unviable, as some banks are refusing to offer loans to resorts under 1,500 metres as they fear for their future snow cover [bbc]. Last weeked the most famous downhill in the sport - and the only one I've heard of - Kitzbühel's epic Hahnenkamm, had to be cancelled at the last minute because it wasn't sufficiently covered. A last-ditch effort to helicopter snow in was unsuccessful, and the world championship event was instead switched to Val d'Isere in France. This is a major concern for Vancouver, scheduled to host the 2010 Olympic Winter Games. If the climate continues to become erratic, Europe's skiers may have a serious disadvantage. Maybe then the British - masters of the mild-weather activity - will have our day!

Concern over European 'snow crisis'
Vancouver 2010

Band photos...or are they?

2007-01-19T07:50:00.000Z

Someone pointed out to me a while ago that whenever friends of mine get together and have a picture taken, it looks like we're a band posing for an album sleeve photo. Looking back at a few old group shots, it's uncanny. So here's a small experiment - I've cunningly mixed up some of those pictures with a few of real bands I've pilfered off the internet. They all follow the key rules of band photography - namely to include at least one of the following - there should be at least one person not looking at the camera, someone sitting or standing apart from the rest, something unusual in the background, and lots and lots of emotive staring into the middle distance. Play along at home and see which ones you think are the real musical combos...

a)

b)

c)

d)

e)

f)

g)

h)

(obviously if you know me, it makes things slightly easier. And yes, that is a goat)

Back in Blighty

2007-01-15T21:08:00.000Z

The only way to stay warm in Montreal

It's not much fun going back to work - but then if we didn't have to it wouldn't be a holiday, we'd just be tramps. Lots of those in Vancouver - fewer in Montreal, for obvious reasons. I got back to Edinburgh on Sunday afternoon at 5pm, and then went straight back to work the next morning. The time differences aren't as bad going this way as they were in the other direction, as we were all waking up well before dawn on our first few days in Canada, before getting acclimatised to the new timezones. Thankfully that only lasted a few days, but our continual travel between these major North American cities always reset our clocks for a while. I'm not after any sympathy of course, just making the point that everywhere is a long way away in Canada, it's one enormous country.

The final day in Montreal we climbed the 'Mountain' in the centre, Mount Royal, that I was on about in the previous post, which took about an hour with several stops for snowball fights and picturesque photos as the night before had dumped a few inches of snow over the city. It made the walk all the better, as Quebec 'neige' is proper stuff, dry and crunchy, and the cold temperatures meant we had almost the whole place to ourselves, apart from the odd jogger (appearing outside in that weather wearing lycra, I just don't understand it). We even built a snowman in the centre of the viewing plaza at the top, where I was last four years ago in the warm summer fighting the urge to elbow any of the hundreds of schoolkids charging about.

The flight back to Vancouver was much better than the one out, although it was longer at almost 6hrs. With a final day there, I met up with Andy and Jess again and we walked around the Dr Sun Yat Sen Garden, a small but very beautiful Chinese garden in the heart of the city named after the first president of the Republic of China (in 1911), who made three visits to Vancouver to gather funds for his struggles to overthrow the Qing Dinasty. It had also snowed here, and in fact was -6˚C, so the whole garden looked especially sparkling covered in ice and frost. After a brief bit of shopping (have to take something back for the office), it was off to the airport and home, via Amsterdam.

Since we left, several things have happened to people/places we encountered. Firstly, Craig in Montreal said the day after we left they got 30cm of snow dumped on them, which must have been amazing (for us tourists, not so much for the winter-weary locals) - and fortunate given our flights leaving without hindrance. The Seattle Seahawks aren't 'Hawkin' On' any more, as they lost the next playoff game after the epic Dallas win, going down with the last kick of the game (ironically) in Chicago to the Bears. But for them to get to the final four in the NFC was a great achievement, and I'll certainly never forget that Dallas game (or where we saw it). The day after I visited BC Place Stadium (see my photo here), strong winds punctured the air-supported dome and the roof collapsed (see another photo here) [cjob.com]. The pristine inside of the stadium was swiftly covered with several inches of rainwater, thankfully nobody was hurt.

Photos are still coming in from the trip, when I get a minute I'll stick together a special post of the best of them from the other people who were there, and then I suppose it's back to the type of standard post I've been clogging the internet with for the last few months. I do have a few ideas, but we'll see if any of them are interesting or not (I'm guessing not, but we'll see). So until I go away somewhere again - well, until I pay off the credit card bills - thanks to Craig and Anna for letting us stay with them in Quebec, and if you're ever looking for an apartment rental for a holiday in Vancouver, go for Chocolate Lily, it was superb (link below). I'm off to get out my map of the world and a dart to see where I'm going to next...

Dr Sun Yat Sen Garden, Vancouver
Seattle Seahawks Official Website
BC Place roof to be repaired this week
Chocolate Lily Apartment Rental

Two Cities In One

2007-01-11T18:43:00.000Z

Fire hydrants need to be found under snow

Montreal takes it's name from a small tree-covered hillock on the centre of the main island, which was called Mount Royal by some explorer no doubt trying to win favour with some crusty monarch back in Europe. We had planned on climbing the "Mountain", which rises to the dizzying height of 764ft - 100ft lower than Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh - but on leaving the flat in the late morning we were met with dry blustery snow. By the time we came out of the Metro at Peel Station the snow was a few inches deep and the temperature had plummeted, not exactly mountain climbing weather. Well, it is I suppose, but only if you had bottled air and were planning on tackling the West face of K2, or something. A brisk 700ft stroll needs to be done in more pleasant conditions.

So we did what all true Monrealers do, and went underground. The Underground City, or 'La Ville Souterrraine' as they say round here is a monumentally large and confusing system of subterranean passages and shopping malls that spill for miles in every direction. There are over 20 miles of them, to be precise, spread over 5 square miles. When you think about it, that's one enormous area. There are over 120 access points to the network, and people wrestle with large heavy doors to escape the cold weather and nip underground. That's the reason for them, of course. When the temperature sits in double figures below zero for several months at a time, it's handy if people can do their daily business without having to go outside. In some countries, they do this by driving everywhere. In Montreal, they bung another city underneath the cold one.

True Montrealers (I think that's the term, although it could be Montrealites), go from their houses in the suburbs on the Metro, get off at their stop, walk through the underground city to work, go for lunch in one of the foodcourts, then back to work before leaving the same way and catching the Metro home. You can live an entirely normal productive life and never have to go outside (after you arrive at the train station, unless you have some kind of crazy hamster-style tube from your nest to the nearest public transport stop). 80% of all the city's offices have direct access to the underground city, as do 35% of all the shops and businesses. This number seems much higher when you're walking through the passages, as predictably every possible alcove and corner is taken up with some tempting way to part you from your hard-earned Loonies and Toonies.*

There are problems with the system though. Firstly, and most obvious, it can be an expensive way to get around, unless you have iron willpower - or a rapidly depleting holiday budget. Also it's incredibly easy to get lost - there are signposts, but if you don't know where the indicated places are, it's not much point identifying them. All the Malls look alike, and you end up navigating by recognisable shops - like Bikini Village in our case (I can't think why that stood out). Food courts are approximately every 500yds, so it can be punishing on the waistline too - although all that walking can help in that regard. Getting lost with all that food everywhere is even more dangerous, although it is good - food courts in the UK just aren't as good as the ones over here. Connecting tunnels and passageways are usually only on one floor (out of four or five), so sometimes you can be in the right place, knowing where you're going, only to have the smug grin wiped off and you turn a corner and walk straight into a Tie Rack.

But as much as I have no real opinion either way about shopping - unless tshirts or shiny gadgets are involved, it's an interesting way to spend a few hours if the weather is being un co-operative. We had several minor shopping things to get done, and we managed to accomplish all of them in the space of a few hours, including a trip into the behemoth that is the Hudson Bay Company. It has to be one of the biggest department stores in the world, it just stretches off in every direction. It has several exits to the Underground City, of course - clearly labelled and signposted. After all, a captive dollar is an easier one to catch. Hopefully we'll get up Mount Royal tomorrow, as the weather forecast is for a balmy 4C, which around here at this time, is practically shirt-sleeve weather...

* One and Two Dollar coins

Je me souviens!

2007-01-10T17:19:00.000Z

Your intrepid heroes take a break

I know I keep talking about the weather - but it isn't half cold here. Today had a high of -12˚C, which is without doubt as cold as I've ever been. You need to bundle up and walk hunched over, especially if the wind is blowing. We set off from Craig and Anna's mid-morning and visited the Olympic Stadium, built for the 1976 Summer Games - which concluded two days before I was born. Apparently still the most expensive ever staged (presumably with inflation taken into account) it had a terrible financial impact on the city, and left them with the huge empty stadium. The Olympic flame was extinguished by a rainstorm and relit by an official with a cigarette lighter, before being hurriedly put out and reilt properly with the portable flame. Also it was the only summer games ever when the home nation failed to win a single gold medal. Something for the Great Britain to aim at in London 2012.

The Stadium has a mock victor's plinth outside, which I'm always happy to stand on - the top step, naturally. This is me doing just that - and to prove how much I enjoy it, this is me doing it four years ago when I was last here - and in somewhat better weather. The stadium is currently closed, as is the slanting tower - which was only added after the games had finished - so we walked past and went to one of Montreal's most popular attractions - the Biodome. Built inside the Velodrome from the 1976 games, in 1992 it was re-invented as a kind of walk-through zoo, although as Wikipedia rather tetchily says, it's 'neither spherical nor a geodesic dome'.

Whatever the outside shape, indoors it's divided into four zones based on an ecosystem from the Americas - kind of like The Crystal Maze only with penguins instead of Richard O'Brien. I was slightly sceptical at first, but it was really good. A continuous marked path leads through the four areas, starting with the Tropical Forest, then the Laurentian Forest, St Lawrence Seaway, and finally the Arctic/Antarctic polar regions. Each part had a number of larger creatures behind unobtrusive fences (a Lynx, Capybara, Beaver), with other smaller things able to roam around (Parrots, Monkeys, Lizards). There was a great gloomy cave full of flitting bats, and underwater glass to watch diving seabirds propel themselves around. We spent an enjoyable couple of hours wandering about looking at Crocodiles and Poison Arrow Frogs and soforth, before leaving and wincing in turn as we went back out into the freezing wind outside.

After a warming curry buffet downtown, we walked around looking at some of the buildings - although rather quickly, and after it had got dark went to the waterfront to go skating. Not that I took part, of course. Several years ago - in fact, the same trip I last came to Montreal - I tried ice skating for the first time on the picturesque Frog Pond in the middle of Boston Common. I'm really not good with balancing/co-ordination activities - witness my efforts to ride a bike on my Crinan Canal post last July, so after a series of mild tumbles I had an almighty fall and cracked the back of my head off the ice, almost seriously injuring myself. Anyway, I learned enough that day to realise skating and me don't mix - it's like glueing a 30cm ruler to the bottom of your shoe and sliding across oily lino.

So I watched, and took a few blurry photos, the floodlit buildings of the Old Town being a great backdrop. The river between the warehouses and the rink had frozen, and it looked as if people had been out skating on it - but the place we visited was a proper rink, with one of those juddering ice hoovers to clean up and everything. The only bad thing was - quelle suprise - the cold. In fact it was so cold I lost all feeling in my fingers taking the pictures and my hands started burning. It had gone past the numb stage, so I quickly legged it into the toilets and held my hands under the hot air dryer until I got the feeling back. On the way home, a series of icy blasts tore between the tall buildings - it must have been at least -20˚C - causing us to yelp and walk all the quicker. We could hear other groups of people swearing and crying out at the same time because of the cold. I can only imagine the people that founded Montreal first came here in the summer...

Montreal Biodome

Another 24hrs on the go

2007-01-09T16:04:00.000Z

Another massively long day for all concerned yesterday - although it actually hasn't finished yet. I'm writing this in our friends Craig and Anna's flat in the Petit Patrie district of Montreal. I took this photo many hours ago of Paul looking out of the window at the flat grey water north of Seattle, several thousand miles away on an Amtrak Cascades train to Vancouver. Our whistle-stop visit to the USA ended with a very pleasant 4hr rumble along the Pacific Northwest coastline, with sea views like this almost the entire way. Travelling by train in America can be infuriating at times, as they go so slowly, but also hardly anybody uses them so you're always guaranteed a spacious and comfortable ride.

So the next stop was Vancouver again, which was interesting given the recent comparisons we could make with it's near neighbour to the south. A few weeks before Christmas, the famous Stanley Park was heavily affected by a series of crushing storms. The much-vaunted seawall walk was still partly closed off because of the dangers of falling timber, and many of the inland woodland trails looked as if a tornado had passed through, shredding large trees and spilling branches everywhere. This old tree, which given the age of the city itself, could have been very significant, was one of many toppled. Telethons were in place to raise money for the lengthy restoration.

I was walking through Stanley Park as I had a grey wintry afternoon to kill before the next leg of the journey - the overnight redeye flight to Montreal. Obviously for those of you that know me, if I have a few hours to kill and an aquarium is within sprinting distance, I'll be there like a shot. Vancouver's is pretty good, large tanks of the usual suspects - although no giant spider crabs, so they lose a mark there. I got there quite late - our plane wasn't due to go until 11:30pm so there was no hurry - and I had the place almost entirely to myself. They had a great display of jellyfish, large Amazonian species, and an interesting walk-through aviary with bright pink ibis (ibises?) and parrots of every squawking colour.

However, the big draws were outside as a large concrete pool held four large sea otters, several assorted seals, four Pacific White Sided Dolphins, and four Beluga - the white whale. I have a hard time with this kind of thing. Admittedly it's slightly hypocritical given I'd just enjoyed hundreds of other marine animals in captivity, but the 'beluga show' was too much and after a couple of minutes I had to leave. Checking the aquarium's website, I found some are rescue animals and can't be released - indeed one of the sea otters is the last known survivor of the Exxon Valdez oil spill - but I've always found making them do tricks unpalatable. The trainer dropped a fish into their mouth as they revolved in the water - it just isn't right. So I left the aquarium, and headed back downtown to pack my stuff for the flight.

And later that day, here we all are in Montreal - the 77th biggest city in the world, and the second largest French speaking one, after Paris. This was taken on the docks in a piercingly cold day of around 0°C and windchill on top. The cold I'd developed over the last few days made it all the chillier (I always seem to get one on my travels). Our Quebecois friend Craig (although he's from Oswestry) is pointing out something of note to Alison, as Paul and Craig take photos in the distant background. Our flight over was pretty awful, short and cold, yet the 4hrs was extended to 7hrs by the time difference to negate any sleep I tried and failed to get. We landed at 7am this morning, and it was straight into another full day of holidaymaking without respite, although the fruity pancakes at the Coyote Cafe gave a welcome boost.

According to Wikipedia - Montreal has 'a daily average January temperature of −10.4 °C (13 °F)', so 0°C has to be something of a lucky escape, although it is still noticeably colder than Vancouver - and expected to drop to -8°C over the next few days. That's not as bad as some though, I saw a Canadian forecast for Yellowknife in the far North which they reckoned would get to -43°C when the windchill was included. Now that's parky. Plenty of excuses to nip inside to places like this - the Basilique Notre-Dame de Montréal on the Place d'Armes in the old quarter. Wandering around looking at things like this is great, but takes it's toll, especially when you haven't had much in the way of sleep over the past 36hrs. I'll be lying in tomorrow. Probably.

Down in the Duwamps

2007-01-07T22:04:00.000Z

Seattle traffic downtown

The next day, with slightly sore heads, we awoke to unsurprisingly grey and wet conditions. It wasn’t raining too much though, and in any case it was a quick trot from where we were staying to get breakfast. Americans love their breakfast, and what better way to spend Sunday morning than eating a huge amount of food and watching large men in suits dissect the previous day’s NFL playoffs? A head-sized omelette and hash browns later, and it was time for more exploring. The menu had alledged it involved only three eggs, but they must have been from an emu-sized chicken. It was good fuel for the walking we did over the rest of the day.

Pike Place Market is the centrepiece of downtown Seattle, a touristy selection of food stalls, souvenir shops, and novelty or unusual stores. The big draw here is, rather bizarrely, fish throwing, and we arrived in front of the large salmon stall just as men in yellow oilskins were chucking four-foot fish at each other. It was all for the cameras, of course, and predictably there was some audience participation as a portly Texan at the front had a quickly substituted fake fish thrown at him, which hit him in the head. Everyone seemed to enjoy it – but I wondered what the Salmon experts at Tsukiji in Tokyo would have made of it, throwing those expensive fish around for the public’s amusement.

After more exploring, and a quick trip to the Seahawks shop at their stadium, we signed up for a guided walk of old Seattle, which lies underground. A spirited grey-haired gent called Bruce talked us through the 90 minute trip, which began and ended in Pioneer Square. Seattle is an incredibly young city, and was founded to make use of the trees that could be slid down the hill to a natural deep-water harbour – the origins of the phrase ‘skid row’, from where they could be floated south to California to feed the property boom. Originally called ‘Duwamps’, the city was renamed Seattle after a local Native American tribal leader, Noah Sealth.

The tour was in parts interesting, but almost ruined by Bruce’s insistence on cracking continual cheesy one-liners throughout. It made the talk infuriating, as I could never tell when he was telling a fact and when he was making something up to get a laugh. For instance, he said the new city had a major rat problem, and if you took a rat-tail to city hall you would be given a nickel. Apparently the enterprising youths of the time started breeding rats to redeem, whereupon Bruce chuckled and said ”They found if you cut the tail off at an exact age, it would regrow and the rat could be used again. This was Seattle’s first re-tail operation!!”. Retail. Re-tail. Get it? So was that all a joke? Or did it happen? I was left frustrated as he launched into another fact that ended in a gag.

From what I could make out, Seattle’s early problems centred around drainage. Sewage systems hadn’t been installed initially, so when toilets arrived (cue much scatological humour from Bruce), the sewage flowed down a wooden trough to the sea, where it promptly flooded back into the city twice a day. The city then burned to the ground, and when rebuilt the city leaders decided to raise the land level to improve the situation. So the entire downtown area (such as it was), was filled in to the tops of the ground floor windows and a new street built on top. It couldn’t be completely filled in though, as the weight of compacted material used would have crushed the walls of what became the basement level, but used to be airy glass-windowed shops.

So people continued to use the underground areas as the shopping streets they had been designed as, descending steps into the gloom to get groceries and do their banking. I found this fascinating, and wondered about the people who had to work down there, what it was like to go underground to shop. Did it flood when it rained? Were the dark alcoves used by thieves or gangs? There must have been hundreds of rats everywhere? Sadly all of these questions went unasked and unanswered, as Bruce was too busy doing his stand-up routine. Sample joke - ”People used to fall down here from the raised sidewalk and die. Mostly drunks – so in early Seattle we didn’t need Alcoholics Anonymous, as we had a one-step programme!!”

Seattle Underground Tours

Keep on Hawkin' on

2007-01-06T19:55:00.000Z

Even tall buildings follow the Seahawks

Once again our luck with the weather changed, and the day after the glorious winter sunshine of Bowen Island, more typical conditions returned as we were blasted with heavy rain and freezing soapy sleet. The slush piled up to ankle height, so our final full day in BC was spent grimacing against the weather as we sorted out travel arrangements and sheltered in bars and pubs. Early next morning, we packed up and took the Skytrain to the main station for a bus to points south – the Greyhound to Seattle. The ride took about four hours, with the unavoidable lineup and fingerprinting at the border. But we all nipped through reasonably quickly, and soon arrived in the Emerald City.

Similarly defined by the weather, Seattle has a reputation for rain, coffee and Frasier. But the weekend we arrived, it was all about the Seahawks. The city’s NFL team was involved in a playoff game against the Dallas Cowboys, which kicked off about an hour after we arrived. Priding themselves on their support, the number 12 was everywhere (12 for the fans – the ‘12th man’). Huge ‘12’ flags flew from the tops of skyscrapers and the Space Needle, and the number was picked out in lights in one of the large office blocks on the way to the stadium. We had something to eat in a brewpub and watched the game for a bit in the busy bar.

Midway through the second half, with the Seahawks losing by a point, we decided to move on and get a change of scenery. The streets were pretty busy as the usual Saturday night crowds were swelled by football fans milling around. Some bars were charging $10 cover to get in, so we found one a few blocks away from the touristy Pioneer Square and when it was free, went in. Called ‘Cowgirls’, it looked like a normal Western-themed bar, with a large mechanical rodeo bull sitting quietly unused by the window, a long bar, and a couple of pool tables. Almost all of the crowd were men, but we just figured that was because of the game, which was on every plasma screen.

Admittedly, it was peculiar why there were dozens of bras hung on a cable behind the racks of drinks. Also there seemed to be a metal rail directly above the sturdy wooden bar, with short sections of rope dangling from it at regular intervals. Still, it was showing the game and it was free to enter, so we crunched through the peanut shells on the floor and ordered some beers. In a stunning end to the game, the Seahawks overtook the Cowboys by a point, then conceded a huge running play that gave Dallas the chance at an easy short field goal to win and knock Seattle out of the playoffs. But – in a twist that almost never happens – the Cowboys botched the field goal attempt and in a frantic scramble the ball was stopped, and the Seahawks won by that single point.

The bar erupted, people were screaming and high-fiving loudly – as American sport fans do – as the hometown team got an unlikely victory. A woman’s voice sounded out over a PA system cheering on the Seahawks, and getting the patrons to shout amusing expletives about Dallas, which everyone was happy to do – even those of us on holiday. Then, with an enthusiastically-met yelp of ”Who wants to see the Cowgirls??”, a group of young women appeared and jumped up onto the bar. Dressed, just about, in skimpy Seahawks shirts that would fail any NFL uniform inspection, they started dancing about and demonstrating what the ropes over the bar were for. I think everyone agreed they demonstrated it pretty well. We didn’t stay though, we had a gig to attend on the other side of the city, so left the ever busier Cowgirls and walked through the streets thronged with jubilant Seahawks fans spilling from the nearby stadium. Keep on Hawkin’ on!! a man shouted at me, dressed as a huge blue eagle. Indeed.

Seattle Seahawks
Cowgirls Inc. (probably NSFW)

Fortune Favours the Brave

2007-01-05T07:31:00.000Z

Our penultimate day in Vancouver started out with a disappointed peek out of the window at the weather - grey and rainy - probably because of my good weather-related post yesterday. We had planned a day trip out to Bowen Island, a small forested isle a short bus ride/ferry trip from the city. By the time we got to the bus stop for the express to Horseshoe Bay, the rain was verging on the torrential. We're used to getting wet, being British, and a still day of rain is something you can just about cope with - but this was combined with a heavy wind, so it whipped into our faces and was generally awful. But having come this far, we decided to get on the bus with the 'it might brighten up' mentality Brits are renowned for. And boy, did it ever brighten up, as you can see from the ferry crossing.

Bowen Island sits in the Howe Sound, and covers only 20sq miles. The ferry from Horseshoe Bay chugged out towards a small conical island, which we all started taking pictures of - before slowly turning left and heading for a completely different one, the real Bowen Island. A crafty deletion of photos later, and no-one would ever know. Howe Sound is littered with small craggy communities, perched between sea and forest. Massive cliffs rose off in every direction, sprinkled with snow at their peaks. When we docked at Snug Cove, we walked up the hill from the jetty to get a view, and found a small square with artist's studios and bookshops ('Sherlock's Tomes'). The only place open was a small cafe, so we had a great meal and looked out of the window at this view. Well, all except me as I drew the short straw and couldn't see it. But the muddy cliff I could see was delightful.

At the centre of Bowen Island is a large forested hill called Mount Gardiner (2500ft), and Killarney Lake. After our excellent meal, we took a walk in the woods for a few hours around the lake. It was just delightful with the late afternoon sun coming through the trees and the birds flitting about. Apparently Bowen is a haven for wildlife - being an island - but sadly we failed to spot any of the unusual ones, Blacktailed Deer, Great Horned Owl, Pacific Tree Frog or wonderfully named Calliope Hummingbird. Locals have to erect large fences against the deer in particular - the island is home to 2,951 people as of the 2001 census Here's Bowen's Wikipedia entry).

Neither did we see any waterbirds, apart from the occasional duck-type bird, so we didn't catch a glimpse of the Great Blue Heron either. But it didn't matter, as the low season meant we passed about half a dozen people the whole time we were there. The picnic grounds at the southern end of the water had several tables and a large car park, but the only trace of people we found was a child's lost baseball cap. The overwhelming feeling was silence, as the only sound we could hear was the wind blowing in the trees, and the sporadic rustling of a Chips Ahoy packet, or as the French side of the packet calls them - Pepites de chocolat de M.Christie

On the ferry back through Howe Sound, with the last of the sun colouring the tops of the surrounding mountains. We were passed by a small tugboat pulling an enormous wake of logs, that stretched out for about half a mile behind. Trees dominate this landscape, even present above the snowline on the mountain tops, looking like miniature cake decorations covered with icing sugar. It was a great day, and we wrapped it up after a busy express bus back to the city with some sushi takeout - a huge bento box of sashimi, tempura and eel for about £4. Things are so amazingly cheap here for the UK visitor, and to get as much Japanese food as I could eat (and I can eat a lot) for less than a couple of pints back home was a fantastic end to a fantastic day. This is why people go on holiday.

Sunshine on the Wet Coast

2007-01-03T09:24:00.000Z

The Burrard Bridge gleaming in the sun

As I said the other day, the Vancouver area is often plagued by terrible weather - hence the 'Wet Coast' tag that pun-loving locals give it. We'd only had a few hours of dryness on the first day, I got soaked going on a run (and it almost was a run) to the Liquor Store, as they of course refer to Off-Licences. Or Bottle Shops if you're Australian. Anyway, the city is built on a series of low hills, so water tends to pool at the bottom of streets waiting to catch out the unwary alcohol-foraging foreigner who steps off a dark pavement into what turns out to be an ankle-deep puddle. This morning it was even heavier, and as Andy left at 6am to go up to Whistler snowboarding, I was already awake in the other room, listening to the rain battering the outside of the house.

But, remarkably, it cleared up just before lunchtime. So I set off on a coastal walk to Stanley Park, hoping the rain would hold off. Not only did it hold, but the sky quickly blew free of any clouds, and the sun warmed everything up. The path runs along the harbourside ringing False Creek, the inlet that separates the downtown business district from the rest of the city. In parts, it reminded me of the Sydney harbour seawall, short sections of clearly marked path for walkers, joggers, and cyclists. It's obviously well used, and with the break in the weather all kinds of people were out getting some sun. Towards the far end, it became more industrial - False Creek used to be surrounded by sawmills - and a lengthy detour caused by a waterside apartment constuction took me past old rusting cannery plants and abandoned buildings.

I had something to eat at the giant domed BC Stadium, home of the BC Lions Canadian Football team. I'm always interested in looking at stadiums - for one thing they usually have t-shirt shops attached (although this one didn't), so I walked over and was surprised to find the door open. Inside a football (soccer) tournament was going on, so I watched the games for a bit while I was eating a sandwich. After that I carried on under both bridges that lead from the western suburbs to the CBD, and on past English Bay beach and the scene of yesterday's Polar Bear swim - looking very different with no people and blazing sunshine. The oil tankers still sat there in the bay, waiting to go upriver, and large logs were everywhere, washed up on the shoreline.

I really like Vancouver, it has a great feel to it. At the end of our road you can see snow-capped mountains covered in trees - and I don't mean in the far distance, they loom over the city from almost every angle. With the surrounding water and atmospheric cloudbanks, it has something of a frontier feel to it - and having flown over vast tracts of nothingness to get here, I can understand why. Most places are within walking distance, which is made easier by the fact that pedestrians have right of way over cars, and more interesting by the rather large number of crazy dishevelled people walking around. I've still got another three days here, so I'll let all of you in the blogosphere know what happens tomorrow...

Swimming with Polar Bears

2007-01-02T10:56:00.000Z

Why are all these people balancing on slippery wet logs at the beach? To catch a better glimpse of a Polar Bear, of course. This is English Bay, on the southern edge of the fist-shaped spur of land that contains greater Vancouver and Stanley Park. Every new year since 1920 foolhardy souls have jumped into the cold sea and gone for a refreshing dip. The first one attracted 10 swimmers, but things have changed a whole lot since then...

These days the event attracts thousands of people, 2128 is the all-time record set in 2000. Back in the '20s it was probably a brisk swim and a stiff handshake afterwards, but now people put on costumes and charge down the beach in a human wave with a deafening roar. To qualify for a badge, you have to register first, then immerse yourself completely in the water.

There was a marked course that stretched about 100yds offshore, and apparently the first person to complete it got an award of some kind. But most people just splashed about for a bit in the 8°C water, before rushing back out, teeth chattering. The whole thing lasted a few minutes, but other people standing on the beach who hadn't arrived in time to register decided to go in too, and become unofficial Polar Bears - like these people fully dressed.

...and Andy too. He'd been talking about doing the swim ever since we heard about it a couple of days ago - but we turned up too late for the registration. So when a man next to us decided to become an impromptu participant, it was too much for him, and off came the clothes. A quick dive and a fair bit of shouting later, and he'd become a member of the spontaneous Polar Bears.

And thankfully, his new friend (who we later learned was called Warren), had brought a towel, helping Andy to avoid an entire day walking around in soaked clothes. Actually, that wouldn't have been much of a problem, as it had been pouring down with rain all day and we were all soaked anyway. Warren's girlfriend also had a thermos full of Baileys coffee, which seems to be the natural diet of a Vancouver Polar Bear. I know Andy appreciated it.

The victorious pose afterwards. In case you're wondering why your author didn't join in and become a Polar Bear too - well, I was going to, but you know, my contact lenses don't react well to getting salt water in them. And er, I don't drink coffee, so I wouldn't have had any way to warm up. Oh - and someone had to take photos of Andy doing it, so er, that's why I didn't go in. Obviously.

Happy New Year!

2007-01-01T12:03:00.000Z

I just can't resist a balloon

2007, and DUaB lurches wildly into it's fourth calendar year. Blimey. So this is me with a helium-filled friend, taken at about 2am at the NYE party we were at last night. After the tiredness of yesterday, we had a leisurely morning in our luxury pad. One of the great pleasures of visiting North America is walking to a nearby bagel shop in the morning and stocking up on warm savoury treats. I think only the French boulangerie can top it for a start to the day - and the one we found at the top of our road had a huge oven where they were baking bagels as we watched. Thankfully the weather was still decent - always a concern on the 'Wet Coast', so after an enjoyable chat with our host upstairs and a meeting with the cats, we went out for a walk along the beach.

Kitsilano is our home for the next few days, a trendy neighbourhood in NE Vancouver. It's entry on Wikipedia describes it as a '...neighborhood known for it's young families, yoga studios, organic produce shops, and new or renovated condominiums. It is also home to Greektown.' We haven't come across any Greeks yet, but we only started exploring yesterday morning. (I'm writing this at about mid-day on Jan 1st). We walked along Kits Beach for a while, with amazing views over English Bay to the distant shore and mountains. Large oil tankers sat serenly in the water, waiting for someone to steer them up river. They float timber down the river from the upland forests, and every now and again you notice half a tree trunk floating merrily along, plenty of which are washed up on the beaches.

In the afternoon we had a persual of the markets on Granville Island - a semi-touristy enclave of shops and foodie places under the main bridge into the Downtown area. A quick shuttle on a tiny ferry, and we went around the city proper and explored Gastown. We must have walked a fair way, as the jetlag began to kick in again and briefly we began to flag. But only briefly, as we zipped about on the buses (free on NYE), back to Kits and found a fantastic Japanese restaurant for our last meal of 2006. Kibune Sushi served us some wonderful stuff, a perfect pre-party feast. A quick ironing/changing pitstop later, we were back on the way to Granville Island, for an NYE bash.

Being on the far west coast of Canada, we were one of the last groups of people in the world to celebrate the new year. Only Alaska and Hawaii were behind us - and seeing as last NYE I was in Edinburgh, I think I got an extra few hours squeezed out of 2006. This whole business of going away for new year is great, I heartily recommend it. It's such an anti-climax usually, that when you're abroad it's always going to be one to remember. Here's a post about some of my previous NYE experiences, but the ones in Paris and Sydney stand out. And now so will Vancouver, as we ended up at a party featuring some great bands, loads of pitchers of new and unusual beer, party hats, dancing, and cheap champagne. So happy new year from DUaB, and I hope you all have a great 2007. This afternoon we're off to indulge in a traditional Vancouver new year activity, involving polar bears. Stay tuned...

24hrs on the go

2006-12-31T09:39:00.000Z

Canadian tundra, from 40,000ft

The longest of days yesterday - it sure takes a while to get over to the West coast of Canada from the UK. Especially when your conncting flight goes even further into Europe, like mine did. Up at around 6:30am, then off to Edinburgh airport, which was extremely busy - groups of kilted Scotsmen off to celebrate NYE in various cities across the continent. After a short flight to Schipol in Amsterdam, a long series of queues later, I was again en route to North America, just under 10hrs away. I had a brief set-to with a pimply Dutch security guard about the bottle of water I was carrying - I'm fully aware of the liquid restrictions, but I'd bought it at Edinburgh airport and even had the receipt to prove it. He wasn't budging though "You can either drink it here, or we shrow it away" he said (Dutch accents are hard to type phonetically). I shrew it away.

I'm always entranced by the on-board map you get on planes, the little aeroplane graphic inching slowly across the world. We flew in a curving arc over the UK, Iceland, Greenland, and the far north of Canada, pictured above. It was like this for hours, just rock, ice and water, flat and featureless. I got talking to the woman next to me, who was from Vancouver and had just come back from seeing friends in Madid (I think her name was Zoila, or something similar). I aksed her if anybody lived down there. "Oh yeah, miners mostly. Gets to 50 below in winter. A tough place to live - they don't bring their families". We flew over the Great Slave Lake, which was the other side of the plane when I took this photo. Then over the Rockies and on towards the coast.

Vancouver is ringed with mountains, Zoila pointed out all the names, but the only one I can remember is Grouse Mountain. It reminded me of the time I flew over the Southern Alps in New Zealand, massive craggy peaks covered in snow. Winter sports are a major thing here, and almost every mountain had flat white ski runs sliding down the side from the tops. Large floodlights picked them out, so each looked like a shimmering white ribbon. We flew really close to them, getting incredible views of the city, before shooting past and banking hard right for the final approach. I managed to clear customs and immigration quite quickly, and amazingly my trusty Lowe Alpine ruckpack was quietly whirring around on the conveyor when I got there.

After a few buses into town, we arrived at our accommodation - we are staying here, and it's brilliant. I think Andy and Jess were so impressed they'd like to move in immediately. It's a fantastically-appointed studio flat with a seperate bedroom, all Ikea-d up and with a friendly owner who lives upstairs. He introduced himself whilst struggling to hold a large tabby cat that wanted to bolt out into the garden. We had a quick tour from him, then dumped our stuff and headed off to meet the others staying at the Sheraton (oh yes), then to a burger place downtown for some food and beers. The Canucks (ice hockey) were playing, and this place offered $2 beers every time they scored. I think they got 5 or 6 in the end. By then we were flagging, and we got the bus back. I started to unpack, and looked at my alarm clock - still set to Edinburgh time. It said 6:30am. 24hrs on the go...

Christmas Wishes from DUaB!

2006-12-20T21:06:00.000Z

Ho ho ho, everybody (and so forth)

So here we are again, the festive time of year is upon us! Well, really it was upon us at the start of November thanks to the evils of marketing, but I think December the 20th is near enough for the Christmas post. All the streets are lit up, the shops are crowded with nervous looking men, and Nigella Lawson and her hobbity children have just been on the telly cooking sprouts with chestnuts and marsala. Tomorrow is my last day at work (for a week), it's my final office Christmas lunch (out of four), and then there's the muddled packing and Virgin train experience back home for the holiday. Although I managed to get a cheapo First-Class ticket so I'll be all hoity for a few hours. Get me.

If you've been with me for a while, you might know I shut down briefly over the celebratory period - I find it hard to think of things to write about when I'm brim full of sprouts and lager. So I hope you all have a fantastic Christmas, wherever you are, and get that special present you always wanted (Optimus Prime, here's hoping). 2006 has been a pretty good year, blogwise, as I reached the hallowed 20 hits a day average (I've slipped back to 16 now - I blame the posts about museums), and got my 5000th visitor - although I bumbled along for over a year before I got the counter uploaded. I also found all kinds of great reads out there in the blogosphere, I heartily reccommend the links while I'm off for a week.

Speaking of which, after that week I'll be back with a bang, as once again I'm on the road, rediscovering the true substance of DUaB - it started out as a travel blog (the DU bit), after all. On the 30th of December I go off for a two-week trip, so check back then for live daily updates. Until then, have a very happy Christmas, and I'll see you all again in Vancouver, Canada.

Silent Shuffling

2006-12-15T12:39:00.000Z

Santa delivering a different kind of present

There can't be a worse time of year to be in a Post Office than the last postal date before Christmas. There are several of these, of course - the earliest being for those cards going furthest. I've managed to acquire plenty of friends in far-flung places, so the other day, on the final day, I was queueing up to get the stamps needed to mail a small piece of light cardboard to the other side of the planet (72p). The line in the central George Street post office was truly epic - I opened the door and everyone looked at me (as you do automatically when someone comes through a door), it was just a sea of tired faces. So I did a quick about turn and went down to my local Post Office where the queue had to be shorter. It was, but only just.

The UK has 14,000 Post Offices, I would think every UK citizen has stood waiting in one at some point (apart from maybe the person who has their face on the stamps; and I don't mean Santa Claus). Apparently many are struggling - the Government recently announced plans to close 2-3,000 of the lesser-used rural ones. The General Secretary of the fancifully-monikered 'National Federation of Subpostmasters', Colin Baker (who also runs the Timelord Union), said in response "Post offices needed to introduce more modern products and services", as today the whizz-bang generation shop for everything online and in large supermarkets and so forth. So are Post Offices modernising? My thirty-five minute wait to buy a dozen stamps - oh yes - gave me ample time to conduct a survey.

The very first thing I saw inside the door? The key thing for consumers to entice them in? Pickled Onion Space Raiders, in their familiar dark blue box - and still at only 10p. They have been 10p for about thirty years - when 10p was a good daily wage. Now we're spending £3 on hand-rubbed partridge jus and sweet polenta flavour snack delights, and the best value snack on the planet has crashed in price, yet remains 10p. I can't work it out. Anyway, I digress slightly. The key to Post Offices is impulse shopping - you're a restricted figure, shuffling along at 30cm a minute, they can leave things in your field of vision that you can't resist. I had to restrain myself from wildly snatching a plastic lottery card holder (68p, choice of three colours), a badminton racket, and a bottle of kitten milk in a teat-shaped bottle.

There's an entire range of minimally-priced goodies sold at Post Offices on a large white rack - called 'Little Things'. Their slogan is 'Every Little Thing Helps', which I'd have thought would interest the lawyers of Tesco. Here's what I saw for sale, on one rack (and this is only what I could remember) - thread, tacks, tape, laces, combs, balloons, padlocks, fuses, aerial sockets, drill bits, tweezers, bandages. The kind of stuff you have a drawer for in the kitchen and never need until you can't find it. I suppose that's their marketing ploy. Maybe I underestimated them. At this point, I'd covered half the ground to Terry and Waheeda the two servers (I felt like I'd known them forever), and reached the piles of unsold newspapers ready to go back to be pulped (universally the Daily Mirror). An old lady tried to winkle into the queue by pretending to be cheerfully potty, but being British we moved slightly closer together to deny her a spot.

Here's a question for you - who on earth writes Airmail letters these days? You can still buy the pads - which have a picture on it of the similarly defunct Concorde, rather fittingly. I always thought it was specially light paper for cheapos writing to Uncle Bernard putting down the colonials somewhere, to tell him the cricket scores. People who were too mean to pay the postage for a real paper letter will by now have discovered email or some other method of communicating that is free (or essentially free). But after mulling this over for a while I found myself at the magazines section, and could peruse what was vying for the attention of the British public. Celebs getting married or divorced, flashing their knickers (or lack of them, at the moment), who got fat or thin. Mags about angling, cars, knitting, hair 'Hairstyles Only' "...not a scalp inside!"

The new issue of Hello! has Brad and Angelina on it, the latest 'No.11' has Anthea Turner. Speaks for itself, really. Although I take issue with the former's claim of the Pitt-Jolie's 'beautiful children'. Have a look for it when you're in the newsagents next, it's been a while since I've seen three amazingly wierd-looking kids. Fair play to them. Anyway, my gaze was then enticed by more wholesome fare - 'Animals and You' with 4 sparkly gifts and a feature on sweetest pinups - not Matt from Busted, but touchingly a baby seal cub. The junior section is always the most fun to look at, but it makes you feel old. 'Classics from the comics' is a combo magazine from major kids publications, listed on the front. Only three of them I'd ever heard of - The Beano, Dandy, Sparky, Beezer, Nutty, Topper, Crackers, Buzz. Sparky? Crackers? What happened to Whizzer and Chips?.

Thankfully by this time I was almost there. I managed to retain some dignity after my temptation by sparkly gifts and pathetic knowledge of comics, at the gossip section. Crap, all of it. On the one hand, you have Love It (60p) - sample headline "My nipple dropped off after botched boob job", then the very next magazine is Reveal - sample headline "3 day 'Panic Diet' - lose your jelly belly." At the risk of this turning into a Media Studies essay, what kind of message does that send out to girls? Stick with the sparkly gifts, that's my advice. Also if anyone considers buying the 'Official Lost Magazine' - with 'behind the scenes interviews with the cast of the hit TV show' I would only say this. The writers make it up as they go along. It means nothing. Nothing! That's what I was thinking when Waheeda called out to me, and a rough prodding from an old bat behind propelled me towards the counter, and all pointless thoughts ceased. Post Offices are great.

And is it just me, or does the Royal Mail's official Christmas stamp (above) feature Santa doing a poo down a chimney?

The Post Office
Post Offices - a Community's heart
Space Raiders