31 December 2009
The start of the summer was nice and I took a week off while Les was over in June to play and repeat the Flåm – Godvangen kayak trip. In July and August the weather deteriorated, but I didn’t really notice because I spent most of the time in Houston. September was the company trip to Spain, Ainsa is always a blast and especially with people like that! October through to December saw nice weather in Bergen but I just seemed to be working most of the time. Spent a couple of weeks in December on a distinguished lecturer tour of the western US which saw me trek from California through Colorado to Canada and eventually Alaska. Key conclusion there was that hospitality improves with latitude. Back in Europe winter came early and both Bergen and the UK were covered in the white stuff as we headed for Christmas in the UK followed by a ski holiday in the Rockies. You would have thought I had spent enough time on planes. In fact I always thought it was an irony that airlines reward you for spending lots of time flying by giving you – free flights.
2009 was a great year for the company, we continue to grow in terms of people and reserves, hitting a net risked resource of 1 billion bbls in November without having to mine tar sands or enter any war zones. The growth was driven mainly by a success in the 20th Round (were we where pronounced the winners by the press), and a fairly aggressive entry into the Gulf of Mexico. New staff and some excellent new offices will set the scene foe next year which promises to be very exciting with a lot of that prospectivity being tested with the drill bit.
Globally – a near complete lack of moral fiber seemed to be the order of the day, while the banker induced financial crisis raged on the scum that caused the collapse took the government bail out, did everything they could to avoid regulation and then paid themselves huge bonuses. Meanwhile the people that should have been regulating the whole show were too busy fiddling there expenses, getting their moat cleaned and buying duck houses.
In the US, they finally got rid of the global nightmare that was the Bush administration. His tenure has to go down in history as one of the darkest periods since Hitler thought he needed a bit more elbow room. I still live in hope that all of his cronies, including Blair are put on trail for war crimes but I doubt it will ever happen. The tail end of the year saw numerous large oil companies scrambling over each other to be first at the Iraq trough – thus proving that the war was nothing to do with the terror and everything to do with securing energy supplies and lining the pockets of your cronies. Although it was interesting to see that the big players that did get in, did not get especially good terms.
Back in Europe the much hyped Copenhagen summit turned out to be a huge flop because the Chinese want to burn as much coal as possible to ensure that their 1.6 billion people can all live like we do in the west…
Happy New Year!
30 December 2009
27 December 2009
Back to Les’ pad for Tuesday evening and Elin’s birthday. Excellent pub meal and a few beers before heading over to Yorkshire for Christmas Mathers style. Mytholme looked amazing in the snow and the whole place had an excellent Christmas feel to it.
A big group of Bergen people, who all have their roots nearby, descended so
we had another party! The evening of Christmas eve was spent in the Malt Shovel, just long enough to top up the blood alcohol level, Christmas was large family affair with 14 people for dinner and more showing up afterwards. Boxing day we headed over to Paul’s and had another party.
Got up this morning at 6 am to head back to Manchester airport and a flight to Canada to try and work off some of that excessive alcohol consumption with some exercise. The last ten days have been
Thursday 17th – 4 hours sleep after clearing out Katharine’s furniture
Friday 18th – Full day at Uni followed by 3 hours sleep after packing up house and then getting up early for flight to Manchester
Saturday 19th – Sunday 20th – 27 hour delay on flight to Manc, left home at 4.30am saturday arrived in Wales at midday Sunday
Sunday 20th – BSRG icebreaker
Monday 21st – BSRG conference meal
Tuesday 22nd – Elin’s birthday
Wednesday 23rd – Party at Mytholme with the Bergen crew
Thursday 24th – Christmas eve in the Malt Shovel
Friday 25th – Large Christmas meal etc
Saturday 26th – Party at Paul’s
Sunday 27th – Up at 6am travel to Manchester, fly to Canada.
I think I am going to need a rest to get over this holiday!
23 December 2009
Starts a bit slow but once he gets going its pretty freckin awesome
Go on you can do it....
How hard can it be ?
19 December 2009
At the airport we boarded the plane and waited for the runway to be cleared. And we waited and waited until they took us off the plane. By 9.30 they told us that although the runway was now clear the crew needed a mandatory rest. The co-pilot had obviously had a tough morning doing nothing and was tired - ah bless!
Safety first! I hear you cry, but amazingly the Luftwaffe and KLM crews, who had started at exactly the same time and endured the same delays were all able to fly, which can only mean that it must be an SAS thing.
And because a pilot is too tired to fly a plane after sitting on his arse drinking tea for three hours we have been stuck here for an entire day. A new plane has been brought from Copenhagen and, assuming we get away on time it will be a 12 hours delay. We will miss our connection in Copenhagen and have to stay the night. The total delay will be 24 hours.
But at least the co-pilot will have had his rest, so it's all ok.
You really couldn't make it up!
When she put it on the market there was lots of interest and the subsequent bidding round was pretty hectic. When the auction was over and the smoke cleared, a young girl called Hilde from Hardanger emerged as the winner. She came to visit several times with her family who brought bags of apples from their farm and Katharine was delighted that the place was going to such a nice person.
It’s a nice tradition in Norway that when a house changes hands, the outgoing person makes sure that it is very clean for the new occupant. So once her stuff had been shipped to the UK, Katharine spent several evenings cleaning and making it nice. She was also leaving several pieces of furniture, including shelves in the store room, a TV stand, a bookcase and a table for the terrace as the new couple had nothing. She had also arranged to sell them the dish washer and some ikea draws at a knock down price to get them started in their new home. She also left lots of cleaning stuff and the spare paint and wall paper that was left over from the decorating. So by the time of the handover on Thursday evening despite being a bit sad about leaving, Katharine was pleased that the place was going to nice person who would appreciate it. She even bought them a Christmas card and a plant as a moving in present.
I was at the flat for the handover and 5 of them turned up. It was the girl, her partner and his family, including two hard looking older women and brow beaten old man. There was a strange atmosphere as soon as they entered. I kept out the way whilst Katharine showed Hilda round and she seemed excited. The rest of the crew just started to inspect the place for dirt. They searched and searched until eventually they found a small strip of dust where the washing machine had been. They ordered Katharine to get on her knees and clean it. This was all very strange, but when in Rome…
Then with undisguised delight the mother took out the dish washer filter which had not been emptied. She turned her nose up in an arrogant and snide way and pronounced that it was dirty! So Katharine, who by this stage was close to tears, got down, emptied the filter and put the machine on to run an empty cycle. At this point I was too angry to stay, so to avoid confrontation I went outside.
Five minutes later the munsters appeared in the street and deliberately avoided me. There was a real atmosphere. Then the girl appeared behind them and without acknowledging me, walked up the street. Next Katharine appeared behind, it was odd that there was no parting gestures but the reason soon became clear. Katharine was livid!
Once the olds had left the room the girl had, rather awkwardly launched in to a prepared speech that the flat was dirty and they wanted money off the price of the dish washer. Katharine had asked her what was dirty beyond the now clean filter and bathroom patch and she said it was all dusty. Katharine ran her finger across the surfaces, there was no dust, the girl was uncomfortable but insistent in a vague way. Katharine, who had managed to stay calm up until this point snapped, snatched the keys off her and threw her out. She seemed surprised, the scheme of turning up with 4 other people to bully some money out of someone who struggled with the language and who they had expected to be alone, wasn’t quite working out.
So we discussed what to do, called the agent, called some friends for local knowledge and considered the options. There was clearly nothing wrong with the flat, they came there with the intention of finding something to create a bargaining chip for the white goods. Everything from the shear number of them, their body language and the atmosphere they immediately created right up to the awkward pre-prepared speech, gave it away. After a brief discussion the decision was easy, two can play at childish games – things were getting interesting.
So we spent the rest of the evening removing all of the furniture that Katharine had been planning to give to them, the Christmas card also went in the bin. Everything, the shelves from the store room, the TV stand right down to the cleaning stuff, was packed up in cars and shipped to my place or given to some lucky friends. We considered cleaning the flat again but it really wasn’t necessary; we just tidied up after the mess we had made moving the stuff and headed to home. It was 2am by the time we got to bed.
Katharine was too upset to meet them the next day so the Agent took over. She went with them to inspect “this filthy hole” and apparently when they arrived and saw the stuff gone they exploded, screaming and ranting. Strike 1! They then told the agent that they “demanded an apology”. She asked why Katharine would want to apologies for removing stuff that was hers. They were so enraged they could not come up with an answer but kept demanding all the same. Oh how I wish I had been there!
Things continued through the day with the agent telling them the place was clean enough whilst trying to mediate. She said that if they could show what was dirty she would get it cleaned. They found a dusty tile in the bathroom but refused to let it be cleaned continuing to demand money off the dishwasher. Their claim started at 2000 nok and progressively came down through the day until it ended up at 300. This much stress and bad feeling for 30 quid! Katharine called me and I said take it, the shear ridiculousness of the amount beautifully highlighted how desperate they were to save some face. Oh how small and petty they must have been feeling by this stage.
They signed the documents to take possession and announced that they now didn’t want the washer after all. I would almost like to think that they knew all of Katharine’s stuff had been shipped back to the UK and thought it would be really hard for her to take a dish washer on the plane, so she might just leave it. I would like to think that, that was their plan but I really don’t believe they are that smart, I think they are just spiteful and petty and realized that they had messed things up and were desperate to salvage some dignity. If that was the case they had just made the wrong move! The best of yet to come.
So Katharine called Sandy, Helen and myself to go around and take it out. The new owners were not supposed to be their but they refused to leave, all five of them. Fantastic, now we could have some real fun…
It started with Helen walking in and bouncing up to them saying hello. They had no idea who she was but dutifully shook her hand, before it dawned on them that she was there for the furniture. Then Sandy and I took out the dish washer, all the time loudly discussing what childish, pathetic, sad wankers would create this much stress for 300 nok. They listened intently from the other side of the room while trying to be aloof. They tried to retaliate by discussing us in Norwegian. The girl told her bitch mother in law that she was "ready to explode", obviously thinking that none of us spoke the lingo. Big mistake, Helen may sound like she comes from northern Ireland but they should have realized that those striking scandic looks are not from the provinces. She calmly turned and said in Swedish “well why don’t you, it will be fun”. They were all mortified.
The dish washer and last furniture were out in ten minutes. Helen came out to the car while we were loading and told us that they had stopped her taking photos. So I went up, collected the last of the tools and took photos, lots of them, very slowly and very deliberately. They looked uncomfortable but nobody seemed to want to tell me what to do, they just huddled in the corner.
I then turned to them and said “you need to come here, I have something important to show you”. The shuffled over nervously en-mass, there was definite tension in the air. So I pointed out that since the dishwasher was disconnected they needed to blank off the point where the pipe had joined the main before they could turn the water back on. Rather bizarrely they all thanked me profusely and I almost, for a fleeting second felt sorry for them.
But outside we went over it all and it was clear. They were just very unpleasant people. They thought they could pull a cheap stunt and complain about the cleaning and get some money off the white goods. The sad thing is that, in doing so they destroyed all of the good-will and created a horrible situation for the sake of trying to score a few hundred pounds. In the end they got nothing and lost about 7000 nok of furniture which they would have got for free. Perhaps worse they had to stand in their own flat while a bunch of laughing foreigners ripped into them and humiliated them repeatedly. They now have to live in that flat with the air still heavy with animosity.
Our best guess is that the girl was at one stage a nice person and it was her weasely boyfriend and his poisonous bitch of a mother that pushed her into it. If that speculation is true then maybe at some point she’ll see the light. In the meantime it left a nasty taste in all our mouths, but at least we came away laughing and the bully got its arse well and truely kicked.
18 December 2009
16 December 2009
Back in my Birmingham days (c. 1991), Rich Greswell lent me a video of a full lap of the TT circuit on board with Joey from 1983. This was back in the day before this kind of thing was common and we watched it repeatedly, in awe. We'd come back from the pub and do "a quick lap with Joey", everyone sat around leaning into the bends trying to imagine how you could ride so fast, so smoothly. There was something about the format of the video, just a single view with no cut aways and his quiet, understated commentary that made it a masterpiece.
I had looked for it several times on youtube and it wasn't there. I was keen to see if, almost 20 years it still seemed as cool, or if it was just nostalgia? Then last week I found it and, I can honestly say its actually better than I remember. It's amazing! Even if you have never ridden a bike I urge you to watch it all, he is touching speeds of 160 mph (that's 260 km/h) on regular roads lined by stone walls and trees on a bike from the early 1980's, yet the riding is so smooth it looks like he is just popping to the shops. If your palms aren't sweating by the end - you must have been abducted and replaced with an android and you just don't know it yet.
15 December 2009
Eventually got to Anchorage which was dark and foggy. Was collected and dropped at a hotel in the center of town. The hotel is apparently “historic” which means it is reminiscent of somewhere in mid Wales, which is neither good nor bad, just different to the drab uniformity of the Holiday Inn etc. Went for a quick walk around the block and by the time I got back they had upgraded me to a suite – very nice!
Next morning it was still foggy, Ken, my host turned up and took me to the talk venue. Talk went fine, lots of interest, then it back to the hotel, where I did a bit of work and then headed to the museum, which was large and only half built. The bit that was open was good and I realized how little I knew about Alaskan, geology or history. From there I headed back to the hotel. Apparently you can see 6 mountain ranges from Anchorage, I saw nothing except fog the whole time I was there. Almost everyone I meet told me how great the view is.
Ken invited me and a few of his friends over to his house to eat and help him drink wine. He is very keen on wine tasting and by the end of the evening we were all rather worse for wear. The food, wine and company were excellent and I realized that the hospitality and friendless had got progressively better, the further north I had gone. From the “make your own way to the hotel, no entertainment” of Bakersfield, through the quick meal out at Boulder, to the longer meal in Canada, culminating in dinner at some ones house. How could Fairbanks be any better? Dancing girls and a limo?
The evening ended with Ken announcing that his driveway was too steep and dangerous to walk down to the waiting taxi so he would drive us. Despite our instance that it was not necessary, he did indeed dribe , all 50 m. It was one of those evening.
Up at 4.30 the next morning for another taxi and a flight up to Fairbanks, 64° north, that’s the same as Trondheim. It was still dark when I arrived and I was met by Doug, a geophysicist who told me that he didn’t really understand what sedimentologists did. He was from Utah and knew the Book Cliffs well, he couldn’t understand that there was anything interesting to do there, “it’s all so layer cake”. But he was friendly enough and took me for a coffee and then drove me around, in fact it seemed like anything to avoid going to work.
The university in Fairbanks is pretty amazing. It was cold, -20° and there was a dusting of snow. The university is a series of very modern buildings with lots of large satellite dishes and other bits of kit that give an air of serious science. Science crossed with the lair of an evil genius, James Bond villain. Dr No’s winter retreat sits on a hill overlooking the town, with the Alsaka range and Denali in the far distance. When the sun came up for its brief appearance there was an amazing golden red light. I went to a PhD defense which was interesting, followed by lunch with some students. Its always fun to meet students and I am drawn to people who opt to spend years of their life in these extreme places. They were very hospitable. Then the talk, followed by the pub. It was one of these old school deals were the entire geology department all head to the pub on a Friday night. There was plenty of beer going down and everyone was friendly and we were having a good time, then things got a bit weird.
I was under the impression that we were all going for food, so I followed Doug, who still had my bags in his car. Doug was very pleased with himself for being able to start his car remotely. Apparently that’s a big deal when its -30! Anyway out at the car we started driving and I realized that we were not going with the others, we were heading to his Korean wife’s restaurant. I guess everyone else had gone elsewhere so it was too late to complain. The restaurant was a bit of a road house in an industrial estate. We sat at the bar while he told me his life story, about how he was set to be a bachelor and then he met his wife who ran various businesses and who generally didn’t come home until 3am. Not surprisingly they had no kids. I was getting fairly drunk by this point and having a few problems keeping with the plot, but the food was good and his wife came over and said hello. You got the sense that she didn’t have a whole lot of respect for academics and scientist but the food was good and she was very hospitable.
He dropped me back at the hotel and I had now lost all of my new found friends from the department, so I went to bed. Next morning I went and hired a car and headed out to the one thing that everyone seemed to think was worth doing. Chenna hotsprings. This has been suggested by pretty much everyone I had met so it must be a good suggestion. Just after my talk the secretary from the department had hand me a piece of paper and said “when you get there, ask for Bernie!”
So I drove for an hour on long straight roads through frozen forest with the off cabin. When the road ended I was at the hotsprings, so I asked for Bernie. Bernie turned out to be the larger than life character who owned the place. He bought me lunch and then gave me a guided tour. Bernie was actually pretty amazing. A big guy with a beard and a huge personality. He talked pretty non stop, typically about how great he was. But the interesting thing was, it was true! He had bought a failing hot spring business in the arese end of nowhere and turned it into a very profitable spa, but then things got really interesting. He had also developed technology for generating power from the hot water, had built green houses for growing fruit (64°N and down to -50°c in winter) and was working on algal biofuels. All with no formal science background. He had also built an ice palace and hotel with some amazing ice carving and he took great pleasure in telling us about the Playboy photo shoot that had taken place there while serving me vodka in a glass made of ice. He was obviously taking on the hospitality vs latitude challenge without even realizing it.
After he had finished with me I headed to the outdoor spa. The water was a perfect temperature, which was good because the air was -20° so that your hair froze once it was wet.
Feeling relaxed I headed back to town, had food and another early night, getting ready for another 5am start and the journey back to Norway. Now sat on the plane heading home. Its been an interesting 10 days.
14 December 2009
So now I am back in the Pyrenees, looking at some of the best structural geology I know. The Galleago gorge is an amazing cross section through the external sierras guarded by with the mighty conglomerate towers of Riglos. I have climbed on these 1000 ft monsters but today I have a different plan. Today I will take what I have learnt from my rafting experience and run this punitive river with it’s little rapids. How hard can it be?
I get 4 inner tubes from a garage in Jaca but the students who I am supervising are not interested in this adventure. That’s there loss. So I head off on my own to the bridge below the dam. I arrive and there is a professional rafting company setting up, Their clients in wetsuits, helmets and life vests carry the boats from the roof of their van. In contrast I am in shorts and sandals with a inner tube under my arm and a piece of wood, found at the side of the road to use as a paddle.
The guides look at my in confusion, which quickly morphs to compression, followed quickly by anger. The guides obviously don’t want me to humiliate them or their paying clients, my lack of expensive kit is underlining the validity of their operation and they are pissed off. They shout at me in Spanish but I ignore them, throw the tube off the bridge and vault the rail, casually taking the 10 m to the water. In the water I climb into the tube and set off downstream on my adventure. I sit in the tube and go with the current. My arse bounces off the odd rocks but I am happy, I am on the river and the sun is shinning. This is the life.
At the first rapid I fall out, its harder than it looks, but I float the rapid into the eddie and climb back in. A quite section follows and I admire the familiar geology. More rapids and I am starting to get a technique, I still fall out occasionally but its all going well. I laugh at the students stuck back at the hotel and I laugh at those stupid people with all their gear. What a bunch of idiots, what a waste of money.
My progress continues, through rapids followed by gentle sections. I see the towers of Riglos and feel sad that my tour is almost over. The gorge is narrowing for the last bit, maybe there is still some fun to come? I wish it had been just a bit more exciting. Then I round a corner and I hear the roar, maybe its not over yet? The best is obviously still to come, I am more excited than scared and I make it my goal to try and stay in the ring.
The roar gets louder but I still can’t see too much. I am wandering what to expect as I go for the falls. They are only about a meter high but I am immediately out of the ring and in the water. I splash and paddle as amusement turns to anxiety and then to full on fear. I am bounced off large boulders, fighting to stay above the water. I go over another drop and I don’t come up. I start to fight and swim hard but I can’t even tell what way is up. Just as I am getting really scared I am spat out to go straight over another small drop into a pool. I go under again but surface quickly, right next to the rubber ring, which through its own adventure has ended up next to me. I grasp it and use it to keep me afloat has I am carried further down the river, bashing and bouncing off the boulders.
I am pushed against a large boulder in the middle of the stream. Initially it threatens to pin me down but as I climb up the back of it the water pushes me up on the top. I grab the ring and I am safe, temporarily at least. I take stock of the situation, a few cuts and bruises but apart from that I am ok. I sit on the rock, with the water roaring either side and, without warning I throw up! Probably a combination of the water I have swallowed and a delayed reaction to the fear. The retching goes on from a few minutes until my stomach is empty I sit there cold and shivering.
It takes me 20 minutes to sum the courage to do what has to be done. The only way off the boulder is back in to the raging river. I have no idea what is down stream but I can and starting to get really cold and I know I can’t stay here.
I tentatively ease my way into the water, all the bravado and bullshit has been washed away. I don’t even try to ride the ring, I just clutch it and let the water take me. Its not as bad as I had feared and in a few minutes its all over, I am spat from the rapids into the deep running smooth waters.
I climb in the ring and float for about a kilometer, before I find a good spot to get out. Climbing the side of the gorge is steep and treacherous but I hardly notice as I scramble up, leaving the river below me. At the half way point I stop and I look back, staring at the rapids. Scouting them would have been a good idea, but then again if I had done that, I probably would have stayed back at the hotel with the students.
I watch the guided tour appear around the corner. They stop at the top of the big rapids, the clients get out and walk around as the guides run the boat down on a line. Finally I laugh to myself at myself and my ridiculous adventure.
12 December 2009
First, there is the regular grid of the township and range, imprinted by the European settlers to impose order and ownership on the wide open plains. The checkerboard pattern resulted from when the land was sub-divided into 1 mile square blocks, with a grid of roads, each as straight as ruler. Some of these roads are just dirt tracks to the farms, others almost by chance have evolved through time into the major highways. Each mile square is subdivided into 4 homesteads and the first bit of variety comes from the location of the farm house within the plot. Then there is the land use, some ploughed, the combed lines always running parallel to the larger grid. Some blocks are further subdivided and some left fallow, in the more arid, southern US the grid has a circular pattern imposed by the huge irrigation wheels, sometimes these sit within a single 1/4 mile block other times they fill the whole mile, but do the tell neighborly cooperation or past failure and takeover. What stories can the occupants of those little houses, the families who work the land tell us? What can we learn of the personal triumphs and tragedies from the subtle variations in this national grid.
The grid is imposed on nature, which for the most part flat and featureless. Locally though a river or stream with no respect for the straight edges, snakes through the grid, highlighting the difference between mans order and natures apparent chaos.
One day I may drive those roads but in the meantime I am content to enjoy the beauty of the grid and its imperfections
11 December 2009
I would like to catch up as I am working on a really exciting project at the moment and need a logo designed. Basically something representing peer to peer networking. I have to have something to show prospective clients this week so would you be able to pull something together in the next few days? I will also need a couple of pie charts done for a 1 page website. If deal goes ahead there will be some good money in it for you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 16 November 2009 3.52pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Logo Design
Disregarding the fact that you have still not paid me for work I completed earlier this year despite several assertions that you would do so, I would be delighted to spend my free time creating logos and pie charts for you based on further vague promises of future possible payment. Please find attached pie chart as requested and let me know of any changes required.
From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Monday 16 November 2009 4.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Logo Design
Is that supposed to be a fucking joke? I told you the previous projects did not go ahead. I invested a lot more time and energy in those projects than you did. If you put as much energy into the projects as you do being a dickhead you would be a lot more successful.
From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 16 November 2009 5.27pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design
You are correct and I apologise. Your last project was actually both commercially viable and original. Unfortunately the part that was commercially viable was not original, and the part that was original was not commercially viable.
I would no doubt find your ideas more 'cutting edge' and original if I had traveled forward in time from the 1950's but as it stands, your ideas for technology based projects that have already been put into application by other people several years before you thought of them fail to generate the enthusiasm they possibly deserve. Having said that though, if I had traveled forward in time, my time machine would probably put your peer to peer networking technology to shame as not only would it have commercial viability, but also an awesome logo and accompanying pie charts.
Regardless, I have, as requested, attached a logo that represents not only the peer to peer networking project you are currently working on, but working with you in general.
From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 11.07am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design
You just crossed the line. You have no idea about the potential this project has. The technology allows users to network peer to peer, add contacts, share information and is potentially worth many millions of dollars and your short sightedness just cost you any chance of being involved.
From: David Thorne
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 1.36pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design
So you have invented Twitter. Congratulations. This is where that time machine would definitely have come in quite handy.
When I was about twelve, I read that time slows down when approaching the speed of light so I constructed a time machine by securing my father's portable generator to the back of my mini-bike with rope and attaching the drive belt to the back wheel. Unfortunately, instead of traveling through time and finding myself in the future, I traveled about fifty metres along the footpath at 200mph before finding myself in a bush. When asked by the nurse filling out the hospital accident report "Cause of accident?" I stated 'time travel attempt' but she wrote down 'stupidity'.
If I did have a working time machine, the first thing I would do is go back four days and tell myself to read the warning on the hair removal cream packaging where it recommends not using on sensitive areas. I would then travel several months back to warn myself against agreeing to do copious amounts of design work for an old man wielding the business plan equivalent of a retarded child poking itself in the eye with a spoon, before finally traveling back to 1982 and explaining to myself the long term photographic repercussions of going to the hairdresser and asking for a haircut exactly like Simon LeBon's the day before a large family gathering.
From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 3.29pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design
You really are a fucking idiot and have no idea what you are talking about. The project I am working on will be more successful than twitter within a year. When I sell the project for 40 million dollars I will ignore any emails from you begging to be a part of it and will send you a postcard from my yaght. Ciao.
From: David Thorne
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 3.58pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design
From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 4.10pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design
Anyone else would be able to see the opportunity I am presenting but not you. You have to be a fucking smart arse about it. All I was asking for was a logo and a few pie charts which would have taken you a few fucking hours.
From: David Thorne
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 4.25pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design
Actually, you were asking me to design a logotype which would have taken me a few hours and fifteen years experience. For free. With pie charts. Usually when people don't ask me to design them a logo, pie charts or website, I, in return, do not ask them to paint my apartment, drive me to the airport, represent me in court or whatever it is they do for a living. Unfortunately though, as your business model consists entirely of "Facebook is cool, I am going to make a website just like that", this non exchange of free services has no foundation as you offer nothing of which I wont ask for.
From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 4.43pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design
What the fuck is your point? Are you going to do the logo and charts for me or not?
From: David Thorne
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 5.02pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design
From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 5.13pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design
Do not ever email me again.
From: David Thorne
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 5.19pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design
Ok. Good luck with your project. If you need anything let me know.
From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 5.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design
09 December 2009
I was met by my host Luis who seemed like a very nice chap. In this part of the world there are so many messed up accents (Canadian, French, French-Canadian, American etc) that I didn’t even realize that he was Argentinean until half way through the journey. Turns out he is from Buenos Aries and knows Gonzo and Ernesto, it’s a small world.
He dropped me at the hotel and I went straight to bed. Next morning I was up and the temperature was down, to -35°. I went for a bit of a walk to try and photography -35°. It looks different, difficult to explain, steam is rising everywhere and the light has a metalic golden colour to it. The river was frozen and there were small pressure ridges and lose blocks jammed together in a huge jigsaw. The ducks didn't look especially phased, maybe they have antifreeze in their blood.
About 500 m from the hotel I realized the error of my ways, just as the bare flesh on my face and hands started to ache. I took a few pics, juggling the camera from one hand to the other. Then I headed back. I could feel the hairs in my nostrils freezing and my face was burning, the skin on the back of my hand took on a waxy white appearance. I had only been out 10 minutes!This was awesome, I have never been out in temperatures this low.
At that point a man on a bike cycled past…
Went to the Uni, meet some students and went through their work, then gave my talk, which went fine, good audience of about 40. In the evening went for a meal with Luis, his very excitable wife and some guy called Paul who epitomized the lecherous lecturer, 60 years old, goatee, slicked-back hair and a very high opinion of himself which was expressed in a loud voice. Anyway we had a nice meal and I got back fairly early.
Up at 4.30, taxi to the airport with a very random Romanian who kept tapping my arm and calling himself my friend. Then the flight was delayed because the hydraulics were frozen. The pilot said that was common at -35, which I found rather worrying since I am pretty sure that -35 is quite common at 35000 ft.
Missed my connection to Alaska so now sitting in Minneapolis waiting for the next one having narrowly missed being routed via Houston…
Apparently it’s much warmer in Anchorage.
It addresses the piss-poor efforts of the 32000 people who worked on the statoilhydro re-branding exercise who have decided that a pink rose which looks rather like the logo on a tampon box is a suitable emblem for a major international oil company. The remaining employees (the ones that actually do something constructive) are less than impressed and there was genuine fear amongst offshore crews that they might be issued pink overalls.
The title "HalveJula4" comes from John and Co's previous efforts which started with this - a musical ode to them having to work the half day on Christmas eve (Halve Jula). I have not be able to track down the other two but the second was about the merger and the third dealt with the search for the new company name.
Anyway this one made the local press! Good effort, keep them coming guys.
07 December 2009
As I was driving to the airport an American "legal expert" was on the BBC saying how the Italian legal system which involves 2 judges and a small jury was "not fair" and unconstitutional...
Well if she wanted to be tried in America maybe she should have stayed at home and killed someone there instead. Then they could have put her on deathrow because that obviously is fair and constitutional.
And if all these cretins stop eating pizza and boycott Italy for their holidays thats fine by me, its a few less loud, obnoxious people in check trousers* when I go and visit Rome...
(* Note this is not my view of all Americans, just the ones that phone in to right-wing talk shows and mouth off about how they are going to boycott France or Italy or which ever bits of Europe have upset them this week)
So I got up this morning, strolled into town to get some fresh air, had breakfast in small coffee shop and then headed to the airport. Traffic was pretty slow because of the weather (-15 and some snow), then it took Avis a bit of time to check the car back in because
a. the guy in front of me had smashed his up....
b. I had switched the dash read-out to metric (8 degrees F means very little to me) and the distance was then in km and the guy was freaked out that I seemed to have done 7000 miles in 3 days.
So I arrived at the check in 44 minutes before the flight, by my normal standards this is a life time. I went to check in and the woman said I was too late, I needed to check in 45 minutes before departure. I said it was a bit childish since I was only literally 2 minutes late - she said that it wasn't up to her it was the computer. She managed to say this in a way that was both disinterested and smug at the same time.
"Computer says No"
So I rebook, it doesn't really make a difference and then go to the lounge to do some work. There I am told I have to pay for the wifi - which I am happy to do because I can now sit here and write about what a bunch of utter wankers United Airlines are!
I arrived in Denver from Bakersfield Ca (or was that Tx) after an awesome flight across Canyonlands and then the Rockies. I was met at the airport which was already an improvement on the last stop. Picked up a hire car and headed to Boulder. I have been in Boulder a couple of times before. It is an awesome little town on the edge of the Rockies, with lots of cool brew pubs and coffee shops and a really bohemian atmosphere. Lots of people with dreds and tattos and everyone drives a Subaru!
Met my host Paul who took me to lunch at the Alfred Packer Memorial Grill in the University. Packer was a frontiersman who ate all his colleagues and was eventually tried for cannibalism. When the University built the student centre in the late 1960s they let the students decide what to call the dining hall! They came up with the name and the slogan "have a friend for lunch!"
Gave my talk which went fine and then spent the afternoon meeting with students and going through some of their work. Some really interesting stuff and a great bunch of guys. Friday night Paul took me for a curry and a quick beer before leaving me to my own devices. Perfect.
Saturday I met up with Bruce Trudgill and his buddy Tom, at their local ski resort of Eldora. Its early season and there was only a few runs open but we got some turns in and had a good time. First trip out this season, it felt good to be back on a board. Saturday night I bought some new boots and then sampled the delights of one of the local breweries.
Sunday there was a load of fresh snow in Boulder so I was up early and back up to Eldora which had some fresh but not so much as down in the town. It was super cold (-15) and I lasted until 1pm before heading back to do a bit of work. It's a rock'n'roll life on the road, but at least I got out and got something done.
Boulder is great - I could live here... tomorrow it's off to the middle of Canada and I can only imagine it's going to get colder.
05 December 2009
A Burglar broke into a house one night. He shined his flashlight around, looking for valuables when a voice in the dark said
'Jesus knows you're here.'
He nearly jumped out of his skin, clicked his flashlight off, and froze. When he heard nothing more, he shook his head and continued. Just as he pulled the stereo out so he could disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard
'Jesus is watching you.'
Freaked out, he shined his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam comes to rest on a parrot.
'Did you say that?' he hissed at the parrot.
'Yep', the parrot confessed, then squawked, 'I'm just trying to warn you that he is watching you.'
The burglar relaxed. 'Warn me, huh?
Who in the world are you?
'Moses,' replied the bird.
'Moses?' the burglar laughed. 'What kind of people would name a bird Moses?'
'The kind of people that would name their Rottweiler Jesus'.
03 December 2009
A few friends have congratulated me on this although given all the other stuff I am supposed to be doing I am not exactly sure why I said yes. I think it is a combination of vanity and insecurity. The vanity is self explanatory, the insecurity is because I am still amazed people actually invite me to do these sort of things and paranoid that if I say no, maybe they won't ever ask me again. Anyway, away from the navel-gazing, I guess I should just enjoy the trip.
Left Norway very early on Wednesday morning and had an amazing flight over. I had not had chance to get the talks together before I left so I was trying to be disciplined on the plane, no movies, just work! Crossing Greenland the sky was totally clear and we seemed to be flying pretty low - it was awesome, so beautiful, I just sat and stared out the window for about half an hour. Glaciers, icelfields, fjords, and snow capped mountains all by the light of a full moon - utterly fantastic and totally pristine. I so want to go there.
After Greenland the cloud came in so I got some work done until we got over northern Canada. Crossing the Northern Territories you realise how much space that there is on earth. Mostly empty, with very rare isolated towns and fantastic fluvial geomorphology. I think I even spotted Yellowknife where an old friend has ended up living, 64 degrees north without the Gulf Stream is a whole lot different to 64 degrees north in Norway (Trondheim).
Then over the Canadian Rockies which were in fine form. The knife sharp contact between the mountains and the plains of the foreland basin, the linear ridges of the upthrusted blocks and the very consistent westerly dip of the beds, all captured in majestic snow covered mountains. I love geology (and yes I am a geek).
Flew into LAX and then on to Bakersfield California. The coast of California is beautiful and as you head in-land you cross the coastal foothills covered in vine yards and farms. Then things flatten out and you cross huge farms in the mile square, chequerboard pattern of the township-range. Looking down at this it is hard not to thing of Steinbeck and it evokes a strange, nostalgic feeling for the time in Chile when I was reading his books.
Bakersfield was an eye-opener. A small piece of Texas had been transported west. Flat terrain, low rise buildings, brash shop fronts, big pickups on wide roads and and oil wells on street corners. Without the palm trees along the road side it would have been tough to actually know the difference. Welcome to the oil patch.
I was jet lagged and very tired as I drove from the little airport in to town. I think was starting to halucinate as I watched a huge glowing red sun set through the hazy between some 70's modern architecture and a palm tree and couldn't stop singing "welcome to the hotel California" to myself. I was looking at the album cover, or at least the copy that is stored in my memory.
I bombed when I hit the hotel and woke up early next morning to finish my talk. My host was younger than she had sounded on the phone, but no less vacuous. She took me to the tallest building in Bakersfield (7 stories!) and to the petroleum club on the top floor. I set up whilst the good ole boys of the oilfield rolled in and sat down to lunch.
I gave my talk, about the story of building the company, the technology and the challenges of being a bit different. It was a bit long, but they were attentive and I was impressed by the quality and the number of questions that followed. Then they where gone and I was alone.
Miss Vacuous had suggested I visit the oilfield and then her and her colleagues would take me to dinner at 6pm. This is always a conundrum of these things, your host feels obliged to be hospitable, although you know they probably can't be arsed and you feel obliged to be socialable. I was in two minds, but since I hadn't spoken to anyone socially for 2 days and the prospect of another evening alone in a hotel room was not great I said yes. I went back and worked for a couple of ours with the goal of hitting this famous oil field for sunset. Left the hotel at 4.30 and the sun was already dropping below the horizon. Bugger! Mistimed that one, which is why I will never make it as a professional photographer. I headed to the oilfield which lies on the edge of town anyway.
I have seen onshore fields before but never anything like this. Its heavy oil, shallow, no pressure and a very old field. One of the guys at lunch had said it was 4 billion barrels in place and they have produced 2 already. Lots of steam injection and all sorts of potential for environmental fuckups, especially next to a river when the top-seal is the water table. I had tried to ask about this, but he hadn't understood the question, so the conversation had degnerated to bashing that "socialist Obama". Yes it really was like being back in Houston.
On a more useful note, Matey-boy had told me that the wells are on a half acres spacing. That might not tell you a lot until you think that means you would get 6 on a soccer field, they are about 30 m apart. But even that implies a degree of order that just didn't exist. It was chaos, nodding donkeys everywhere, big ones, small ones, pipes, cables, compressors, well heads, jostling for space on a dusty hillside and as it dark, it got more menacing.
Took some pics and headed back into town. Didn't get the call for dinner until 7.30 by which point I had decided to bail anyway, so I grabbed a bite and headed to bed early with the goal of using the remnants of the jet lag to help me get up at 4.30 for my flight to Colorado.
02 December 2009
27 November 2009
Lots of work and not a lot else at the moment, which make the joke even more appropriate...
Weather is shitte anyway. Have a good weekend
25 November 2009
23 November 2009
This is not tough people on the edge of the known World scrapping a living from the ocean. This is mindless brutal thugs, with no compassion and no empathy, tragically clinging to culture that is obsolete and redundant. These people are not starving, the Islands are rich and heavily subsidized by Denmark. The chief medical officer of the islands has "advised against eating pilot whales because of high levels of toxins" so there is no reason for this gory spectacle beyond its cultural and historical significance.
Stop and ask yourself what kind of sick sadistic wanker derives pleasure from such brutality? What kind of massive inferiority complex makes you want to stand up to your waist in blood and murder gentle, intelligent, harmless beasts? Isn't the whale swimming in the open ocean a far more beautiful thing than a plate of fatty meat full of PCBs and Mercury? What is wrong with these people?
22 November 2009
Norway's recently rebranded, largest oil company of course...
The car in question was parked in car park while the employee was away for the weekend. The employee left the car there on Friday evening and returned Sunday night to find it gone. The fine for getting it back is 1800 nok - 200 quid, plus another 400 nok for a taxi into town to retrieve the car. That's about £250, which is a lot of money.
21 November 2009
The Book Cliffs and Highway 6 - never meant for 60 mph
Suddenly I realize that one of the cars just about to pass going in the other direction has a rack of blue and red lights on the top. Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks!
So I say to Roy, we are about to get pulled over, stay cool, we’ll get a ticket and be on our way. Just don’t get out the car, don’t make any sudden moves and make sure he can see your hands. As I say this, I look in the mirror and see the blues light up and the sheriff does a u-turn.
So I pull over before he is even behind me and put my hands on the wheel in plain view. Roy raises his in a stance of surrender, I am not sure if he is scared or being ironic but I think its kind off funny so I do the same…
The plod approaches, moving along the side of the car cautiously. This is with good reason, too many of Utah’s finest have been shot by crazy people out on these open roads.
When he reaches the open window he immediately asks “Why the hands up? You got a concealed weapon license I don’t know about?”
“No officer” I reply, in earnest, “we are British and we heard that if we got pulled over then we should show our hands or risk being shot”.
He visibly relaxes and apparently thinks this is the funniest thing he has heard today. He takes my license to check it out and then comes back with a big smile on his face.
“Since you guys aren’t from around here I am gonna let you off with a warning”
“Thank you officer, we’ll be more careful in future”
Two days later, early morning we have hooked up with Chris, Atle and Helen and we are all heading south from Green River to Moab for a five day raft trip. We are all pretty excited; I am doing my predictable 85 mph when we pass a policeman. Bugger!
So I pull over and say “get your hands up everyone, now!”
Roy gets it straight away, the others comply but a bit more hesitantly.
The police man approaches and fortunately it’s a different one and this is a different county. Again he asks why our hands are up and again I say the same thing. Helen, who is rather striking and has a pretty plumy English accent at the best of times, hams it up and says
“We’d rather not get shot officer”
He looks less than impressed but goes off and 10 minutes later comes back, telling us he is going to let us off. We thank him profusely and drive away slowly.
Maybe this is the solution to all those speeding tickets? The question is, how far could you push it?
Two years later Atle and I bottled out of trying it again and took the ticket. That time it was at 3 am and we had been out sampling sandstone in Arches with a large drill which was in the back of the car. We were also half cut and didn't want to try and explain what we were doing, but that's another story…
20 November 2009
(click on them for a bigger version)
Lets go for a beer...
After all this beer I need a piss...
Lets go on a date...
19 November 2009
Being in London reminds of a time, twenty years ago when I arrived here, fresh from Uni with a very large debt, trying to get enough cash together to go and do a PhD. It was an entertaining 9 months but it also made me realise that I never wanted to live here again. Each time I come back and visit only serves to re-enforce that view. Anyway here is a tale from back in the day...
The year is 1988 and I have just finished my degree. The job market sucks and I am very short of cash, so I have taken a job in London with a small consulting company. At £7500/year the pay is so bad that I can’t actually afford to live here. In fact I would probably be better off back in Wales landscape gardening or delivering cars (which, along with stage crew work, had helped to finance my degree), but I also need to get some relevant experience to strengthen next years PhD chances.
So I end up living on my cousin’s floor in deepest, darkest Kent. I have been here for 2 weeks, long enough to work out that if I leave the house at exactly 7.30 I can walk 10 minutes to the train station, then catch a train followed by two tubes and get to the office in Putney at five to nine. I am already part of that well oiled commuter machine!
So for two weeks everything is going just fine and I am making a good impression at work. Then one evening, the guys ask me to come and play cricket with them. I am not much of a batsman but my long lanky arms assist in fast bowling and as it turns out the opposition are fairly crap anyway. We win and there is much beer downed to celebrate until the last train home.
I get to Oprington Station and head home, its pouring with rain and rather grim I realize that I must be more pissed than I thought because I am now lost. Bugger! It takes me about 2 hours to get my bearings, make it into the house and collapse on the bed.
Next thing I know, the room is flooded with daylight and I am awake and alert. What time is it? A quick look at my watch says 27 minutes passed 7. Shit! Shit! Shit! I know that if I miss the next train it will trigger a chain reaction of delays and I won’t be in work until 9.30. That is bad! Drinking on school night is fine as long as you make class the next day. Especially when it’s your first time out with the team.
I jump up, throw on some clothes and bolt for the door, running down the street towards the station, I might just make it! Half way I start to get a stomach cramp so I slow down a bit, I am sweating and feeling very rough, I start to walk. By now my goal has been down graded to making it to the station and finding a toilet before I crap my self.
More spasms and I am in serious trouble. Then just as it’s looking very bad, a man walks out of his house and asks if I am ok. I ask if I can use his toilet, he looks at me rather horrified and says no. I should emphasis that I can’t blame him, I am 6’2”, scruffy, with very long hair and I am sweating like a horse. I probably wouldn’t invite me into my house to use the toilet either.
But it’s desperate so I plead and eventually he relents and quietly says the toilet is at the top of the stairs. I need no second bidding, I barge past, take the stairs 3 at a time, while undoing my trousers. At the top of the landing I come face to face with his wife, dressed in her nightie. I am pretty sure that every morning he leaves for work at 7.36 and she gets up as he goes and heads to the toilet. I am also pretty sure she has never been head off at the pass by a large yeti with his trousers undone…
I pull down my trousers and my arse explodes, solids, liquids and gases under pressure. It’s a real mess and it stinks but it’s also immensely relieving, I feel so much better. A quick look at my watch tells me that this diversion has actually only taken about 3 minutes and if run I might just make the train. So I pull up my trousers and bolt down the stairs and up the street to the station.
I make the train and my honour at work is intact. My honour on the way to work subsequently is more challenged as every morning my new found friend waves and says hello. I wave back and hurray along.
The thing that really worries me about the whole affair is trying to imagine what his wife thought was happening and what she said when he got home that night …
“Darling, after you left this morning some long-haired hippy ran in to the house and stank the toilet out before running off. Can you imagine?”
“Really dear? In Orpington, imagine that...
18 November 2009
15 November 2009
This months accretionary wedge is being hosted at Magma Cum Laude and is about science (geology) out reach. Here is my offering.
Most people are so amazingly uninformed about the World around them it’s depressing. Understanding a bit of geology leads to a greatly improved insight into so many things from simply appreciating the scenery, to having a better insight into the context of climate change and, ultimately realizing that the World probably isn't 6000 years old, so religion is not a very good reason to blow people up. Yep, the World would be a better place if a few more people understood the wonders of it's workings just a bit better. But they don't and in the majority of cases it's not their fault, it’s just that nobody even tried to explain it to them in a way that was interesting or accessible.
Geology in the media is invariably dinosaurs and volcanoes, with the odd earthquake thrown in. Admittedly these are interesting and no doubt dynamic, but what about the rest of it? I love sedimentology and stratigraphy and what it can tell us about palaeogeography. I love the detective work that goes in to pulling all the fragmentary pieces of the jigsaw together. I could (and do) spend hours on Ron Blakeys website pouring over his beautiful reconstructions and I want to make everyone understand how truly awesome and dynamic the earth is.
I have done many bits of outreach, field trips, public talks, articles etc but the largest project was an eight part TV series which was made for Channel 4 and the Discovery Channel called the "Big Monster Dig". The format of the show was 3 "experts", a palaeontologist, a palaeobotonist and a sedimentologist, spend a weekend trying to "solve"a geological conundrum.
I was the sedimentolgist and how it got involved is another long story (see here), but suffice to say I was drafted in for two main reasons, firstly I was happy to hang off a cliff on a rope, dangle from a plane, go up in a balloon, paraglide etc and secondly because I could get a word in edgeways with palaeontologist Dave Martil who can talk like an auctioneer.
During the series we dug up mammoths in a gravel pit, we looked at the world's biggest fish in a brick pit in Peterborough, I hung off a tottering cliff on the south coast of England looking for Iguanadons and we headed south to Europe to study dinosaur eggs in a vineyard in France and saber-tooth tigers in Spain. It was fantastic fun.
Each show typically took 2 to 3 days of full time shooting, plus time spent filling in bits here and there. We never staged anything and since you can never guarantee finding fossils we always had lots of other stuff going on. For example I visited a brick factory to compare the weight of fired and unfired bricks as a way of determining the organic content of the London Clay.
I leant a lot about TV along the way. How much work goes into an hour long show, how many people slave away behind the scenes, how challenging it is to pull it all together and that it is possible to get out of a landrover the "wrong way". The phrase that echoes in my mind is "that was great, can you just do it again please?"
At the end of shooting the series there was a big buzz about it. The crew were really fun people to work with and also really interested in what we were doing. One of the camera men actually said to me after one scene "so this area was all sea then?" It would seem that he was actually listening.
The shows were aimed at children and families, with a serious geological undertone. I think we did an OK job of trying to get a serious message across in a fun way. The shows were shot in 2002 just as the Iraq invasion kicked off. Consequently they didn't make it on to the screens until late 2004. When they did they were not broadcast in the Sunday tea-time slot they were designed for but against Eastenders* at 8pm on a Tuesday evening. Because of this, they didn't quite get the viewing figures Channel 4 wanted. We thought 2 million people was pretty good for a geology show but C4 were looking for the next Big Brother and geology was unfortunately not going to deliver it. So the decided not to make anymore, which was a shame.
The programs are still re-run on Discovery, normally about 3am, so if nothing else there are a lot of insomniacs and night watchmen who know a lot more about geology than they otherwise would.
* If you are not from Europe - Eastenders is a depressing soap opera about people in London, it is one of the UK's most popular TV shows, although I will never understand why.
¤ Big Brother is the original shitte reality show for the vacuous
13 November 2009
(according to a man - so we know it doesn't really matter anyway)
Please note.. these are all numbered "1 "ON PURPOSE!
1. Men are NOT mind readers.
1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down.We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.
1. Sunday sports: it's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.
1. Crying is blackmail.
1. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!
1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.
1. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.
1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.
1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us.
1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.
1. You can either ask us to do something Or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.
1. Whenever possible, Please say whatever you have to say during commercials..
1. Christopher Columbus did NOT need directions and neither do we.
1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.
1. If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.
1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," We will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.
1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.
1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine. Really.
1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as football or motor sports1. You have enough clothes.
1. You have too many shoes.
1. I am in shape. Round IS a shape!
1. Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight; but did you know men really don't mind that? It's like camping.
11 November 2009
The first was the story of Olaf Schmid, who was a bomb disposal officer in Afghanistan. The story was about his work clearing IEDs leading up to his untimely death. The article was by a free lance reporter who had met him on several occasions and befriended him. The story was incredibly moving and one of the best pieces of journalism I have ever read. Schmid was a true hero and his death was a tragic lose to both his family and humanity. I cannot urge you strongly enough to read this article.
The second, which was the front page story, was about the self serving, sanctimonious cunt that is Goldman Sachs who claims, that being part of a system that made him ridiculously rich and left the rest of us with billions of dollars of debt, was “doing God's work”. The fact that these two articles are even in the same news paper makes me feel sick.
And then to add to the glut of hypocrisy was the story earlier in the week that Shell had banned the sale of poppies on their forecourts. A few years back I travelled all over the World doing work for Shell, places like Brunei, Oman and Malaysia. At the time my Mum commented "you are visiting all those countries that your Dad went to". This was an interesting observation, because my Dad was in the SAS in the 1950's and 60's and the British government back then was happy to use the Army to help political establishments which would in turn secure an energy supply (some things never change). Shell were pretty happy to ride on the back of that so, I would have thought that letting the legion sell a few poppies in their forecourts is the least they could do now. But I would think that, because I have something that resembles a conscience.
We watched the Rememberence Parade from the London eye and wandered around the crowds as they dispersed afterwards. It's very moving and also very important to remember that you don't have to agree with a particuliar war to appreciate the bravery and sacrifice of those who fight in it. Lions led by Donkeys, manipulated by Snakes.
(*yes I know I said I wasn't going to read the Times again, but it was free in the hotel and soon Murdoch is going to charge for it online and then none of us will read it anyway)
Anyway here is the movie - enjoy
(Apparently the nest was deserted BEFORE they conducted this experiment)
09 November 2009
Flew in to the smog on Friday evening and headed to Ronnie Scotts were they were all entrenched listening to jazz - nice! I had missed the first half of the show which was apparently very much like this, so I am not complaining. Second half was actually very good. After that ended up in a random club trying to fend off a very scary woman in a suit by telling her I was gay, whilst Katharine was swing dancing with a random Norwegian.
Next day, in an attempt to avoid shopping, we headed to Highgate Cemetery which was awesome. History meets hammer house of horror with a bit of Karl Marx thrown in. Well worth a visit. Saturday evening we went to see “Priscilla Queen of the Desert” which was extremely entertaining - the bus was fantastic!
Sunday we did the London Eye, also worth a punt, then headed for home. I was flying out of Gatwick with SAS whilst Katharine was going from Heathrow with KLM (we always use different airlines, its a safety thing).
So I was sat in Gatwick doing some work and drinking a cup of coffee when I looked up and noticed a 17 year kid, in a uniform with a large machine gun stood about 20 m away just staring at me. So I posted on my facebook about how young the police look these days when I looked up and there were 5 of them all standing around me looking menacing. Then one of the says "sit still and don't move!" which, mindful of John Charles Mendes and the potential teenage hormonal problems of my aggressors I opted to cooperate with.
Another one then appeared with an over excited beagle who jumped all over me and then my bag and not smelling drugs or explosives, then wagged its tail and wandered off. Then without a single word, the plod with the weapons wandered off after the beagle. Not to check out any other costumers, they just disappeared, it was obviously me that was "of interest".
Note to self - try and look less like a terrorist next time!
Got home at midnight which was better than Katharine who KLM marooned in Amsterdam for the night,