Personal

Thanksgiving

Thursday was Thanksgiving in America.
Tonight we had a Thanksgiving meal of our own.
In America, Thanksgiving revolves around family.
Our meal celebrated friends.

"Because I enjoyed the food in New York last year," Jay replied when I asked why she'd undertaken to cook for us all tonight. If I'd waited I wouldn't have had to ask the question: the opportunity to sit around a table with a good number of friends seems so rare to me. This should be a regular thing (but if you don't mind I'll not cook.)

Comment

Primitive navigation

The story as I first heard it (another telling is here) goes something like this:

To the west of London are two airports: Heathrow and Northwood. Their runways are parallel, and a little way out under the flight path of each runway stands a pair of gasometers that pilots use to line up their approach.

One night though, the pilot of a jumbo jet mistook Ruislip's gasometer for Heathrow's, and attempted to land on the much shorter civilian runway.

To avoid a repeat occurrence, the word 'NO' has been painted on the Northwood gasometer so that pilots know they should re-check their approach.

Arts , Comment

Ashamed of art

Every year for the past twelve, one day in the summer has been named Ipswich Music Day: a day when five big stages are erected in the park in Suffolk's county town, and local bands compete for the attention of the crowds.

This year, Ipswich Music Day was the centrepiece of a new two-week arts festival, Ip-art. Music, theatre, visual arts, film and even architecture... at last it seemed that Ipswich was taking art seriously.

Personal

Back to school

My surprise experience of the week was when I realised I could no longer tell the time. (OK, taking part in a party by MSN at 1am on Sunday morning, complete with drinks, music and dancing was a little more surprising but if you don't mind I'll leave that story for another time.)

I'd started wearing a watch again. It was actually a freebie from my web hosting company, but it'd have been a waste to ignore it so I wrapped it round my wrist on Saturday morning.

Arts

Gig: Juliet Turner

Tonight then, was Juliet Turner at The Borderline. And you'd not believe me if I said she wasn't wonderful to see and hear, so I won't disappoint on that matter.

As ever I had to leave just before the encore so I could guarantee my place on the last train home (such sacrifices, living in Suffolk). But for once, I didn't feel too bad about it. The reason? While Juliet was good, what really blew me away was her support act, Astrid.

Personal

Signs of Christmas

And as the last signs of summer fade, so the first signs of Christmas begin their assault on our senses.

In Woodbridge though, we're spared the garish lights and shops singing Slade (well, on the whole; it seems someone in the town has sinned sufficiently that we all have to put up with occasional overdoses). Instead of the colour, we go for taste. How's this for a sight on a Sunday morning? A team of people hanging perhaps a hundred Christmas trees from the buildings that line our narrow lanes.

By next week each will sport a single string of white lights, the streetlights will be extinguished and the market square will take on a whole new magical feel. Not even Disney matches this.

Personal

Sudden glimpse of summer

Waiting up for my sister and her husband to arrive (they're staying the weekend), I was distracted by a fluttering in the corner of the room. When I finally located it, I found this rather misplaced butterfly.

He had a good go at getting closer to my light bulbs but eventually gave up, flaked out on the wall. He put up no resistance to the whisky glass that was his transport to the cold, damp world outside. Then he was gone, lost into the approaching winter.

Comment

No dumbing-down here

Demonstration of the financial trouble a famous institution finds itself in, or branding taken to the extreme? Maybe we should applaud an educational establishment that's reaching out to the young. But I'm sorry, I can't. When I found out you could get genuine dinosaurs from the university it all became too much.

You won't find that sort of trivia at Imperial. Oh no, we've got a tired local radio DJ on our homepage...

(Sorry, I left almost ten years ago but I still get competitive about college.)

Personal

Tipping the balance

I've been thinking this lunchtime about walking and unicycling. When you walk, you stick one leg out front, ready to catch your body as you tip it forwards. You know you won't fall over because your leg's already in place, and excepting unfortunate incidents with unstable ground it hasn't failed you yet.

When you unicycle, everything's the other way round.

Greenbelt , Website

Greenbelt Blog

Quick announcement: I've just brought over about forty posts dating back to July of last year from the Greenbelt Blog and squirrelled them away here. You'll find them all in the Greenbelt category.

Arts

One

For once I find myself in absolute agreement with a public poll. For once my usual need to be different is suppressed and I applaud: One certainly is the best song ever recorded.

Comment

Davis and Kieslowski

Somebody needs to see A Short Film About Killing. But I can't get that worked up about it; it's not as if the Conservatives stand any chance at forming a Government in the future.

Arts

Dave Gorman's Googlewhack Adventure

Just go see it. Now isn't the time for a complex review, for making clever analogies or picking out particularly sparkling moments in the show. Now is the time to make a personal recommendation: go see Dave Gorman's Googlewhack Adventure.

This is the first time I've ever been to a theatre locally, and it paid off big-time. It was a wonderful way to take my mind off this afternoon's events. At just over two hours it's a long show, but masterfully paced: you really don't notice the time pass.

Dave Gorman's a fantastic storyteller, and his delivery takes you on a ride through the universal set of human emotions. This is the kind of story you want to tell other people, and somehow through hearing the retelling it becomes your own.

There are still some dates left on the tour. You'll be glad you went.

Personal

On HGVs and narrow lanes

I will now introduce the technical term, Oik. It's a placeholder noun for persons unknown that have generated feelings of mild frustration. It's used like this:

Some oik has gone and rammed their lorry into the wall at the bottom of my garden.

Tonight this is not a theoretical example. Some oik has indeed had a good go at widening the road behind my house. They failed. Presumably they damaged their HGV, but made off before talking with anyone. What's left are a few bits of wall now reducing the width of the road, and serious damage to the wall between my garden and next-door's.

Greenbelt , Tech

Send spam not mail

With increasing frequency I'm getting emails like this:

A recent e-mail from you has been quarantined by rule Spam cat 4 - Healthcare Travel Alcohol Drugs for checking as it may contain inappropriate content.

Tech

Speed-uni

I already own three unicycles, but I can always make room for a fourth - especially when it's a stylish motorised uni with a thick motorcycle wheel. OK I'll look a right prat revving the engine at the lights, but once amber's given way to green you won't see me for dust. Or you won't see me 'cause I'll have swerved into a ditch. Or because your view is blurred with tears from laughing so much.

Jon sent me the link and said he thought it'd be right up my street. "If it's for real I think that you need one," he wrote. Jon, you're dead right, and I'm looking forward to an odd-shaped parcel at Christmas.

Personal

The east/west dimension

We spend so much time talking about the north/south divide in this country that I think we sometimes forget about there's an east/west dimension too.

Out here I live almost as far east as you can, and driving to the farm near Cirencester (not even half-way across the country!) took three and a half hours on Saturday.

Greenbelt

Bowled away

In the front room of a Cotswold farm.
Behind me: a slowly smoldering fire.
Around me: a dozen faithful friends.

Greenbelt

Let's hold a festival

Today, the familiar sight on my doormat of junk mail. But today's junk comes from Greenbelt. "GB2004" it proudly declares. It's the first public declaration of next year's festival. "You know what?" I imagine someone saying, "This year's festival was fun. Let's hold another next year."

Personal

Biogooglephry

Just so we're clear: I don't offer a variety of medical services.

I've never qualified for the national bridge finals, my abitions stretch beyond college and I've never been to Toronto.

I'm not a fan of watercolours, a master craftsman or a long-distance runner. I didn't die in 1929.

Personal

Places to breathe in London

• The Electric Cinema, Portabello Road
• The Making the Modern World exhibition in the Science Museum
• Marylebone Lane
• Speakers Corner, on a Sunday in October
• A slow walk along the Embankment, Oxford Street or the Grand Union
• Under the Westway at Royal Oak

Angels , Personal , Website

angel lane .org

So after thirteen years online I finally found a domain I'll hopefully be happy to hang onto for a good number of years. This blog is the first thing to move; please update your bookmarks.

I'd like to think living so long without a domain of my own marks me out as not the geek you think I am, but I'm sure you'll all clear up that misunderstanding very quickly.

Arts

Film: Kill Bill vol. 1

With so much noise surrounding it, I was always going to see Volume 1 of Kill Bill. And while I'm not usually a fan of heavily blood-splattered films, Kill Bill was wonderfully entertaining last night. The violence is so over-the-top that it's not upsetting: it doesn't resonate with anything in the world I know. What's left is a blend of cinematic tricks and treats, laced throughout with jet black humour.

Best avoid it unless you like 18-certificate gags; I can't wait for Volume 2.

Coastwalk

Sizewell → Dunwich Heath

Distance: 3.5 miles
Ascent: 66 metres
Duration: 1 hour 3 minutes

Suffolk's golf ball
« Aldeburgh | Dunwich »

My re-walking of the southern Suffolk coast continues with a walk that's not the most beautiful. Two reasons: A and B. It's full of memories for me though; for five Easters in the late 70s, Mum and Dad took the youth group ("Ichthyans") from Chorleywood to Sizewell Hall, and the shape of the power station a mile to the north is permanently etched onto my brain.