The Lair of the Male Lesbian

They're like drug dealers, only for sex

2012-02-16T21:34:00.002Z

Or, "Another episode of Americans export the *best* crazy."

So, did you know what the mission of American sexual health care advisers Planned Parenthood is? I didn't before watching this handy-dandy video. Apparently, apart from killing babies through abortion*, they're interested in raking in government funding* in order to sell our children unrestrained sex*. Just as the goal of a drug dealer is to make drug addicts, Planned Parenthood's goal is to make sex addicts*. Get the kids addicted to sex so they can sell them birth control*. When they get an STD, it sells them testing services*. And when a young girl gets pregnant, it sells her an abortion.* It's indoctrination designed to drum up Planned Parenthood's abortion business*.

They do this through their gateway drug of "masturbation"* and not only tell teenagers that it's normal to masturbate, but tells them that all sexual orientations are normal*. They have the gall to have an education site for teenagers that includes graphic displays of genitals*. It even tells them about how pleasurable the clitoris is*!

These perverts* must be stopped!

PJW

*A direct, verbatim quote. Said with a straight face. No, really.

Appalled at humanity, again

2012-02-05T17:20:00.001Z

I don't watch much football, partly because I don't have an investment in any of the teams, partly because I only have a certain amount of free time and I enjoy other sports far better, but mostly because the behaviour and culture in the game disgusts me. In many ways, it appears to demonstrate the worst bits of our society - badly-behaved man-children who consider it their entitled right to scream abuse at authority figures and to cheat, lie and con as part of their route to success. And let's not forget their wonderful behaviour off the pitch either.

However, it's reached a wonderful and exciting low with the Chelsea v Manchester United game today, which I've got on as background noise because of my interest in the work fantasy football league. The Chelsea crowd are booing and heckling Rio Ferdinand whenever he gets the ball. For those who haven't seen the news, Chelsea captain John Terry is currently facing criminal charges for racially abusing Ferdinand's cousin (and fellow footballer), Anton Ferdinand. Rio has been outspoken on his cousin's behalf, as you would naturally expect (especially since Rio could himself be described as a "fucking black cunt", to coin a phrase).

To summarise, the Chelsea crowd are jeering a player because he has been outspoken against what he believes to have been a Chelsea player racially abusing his family member.

And once more, because I still can't believe it - they are jeering someone because he's spoken out against one of their team calling his brother a fucking black cunt. They hate him because he's against their captain being racist. Even if they think Terry is innocent, they are taking umbrage at someone defending his family against what he believes to be a racist verbal assault. They genuinely believe it acceptable to boo someone for being against racism.

I've tried saying it half a dozen different ways and it still makes no sense to me. They hate him for opposing one of their players, despite his believing that that player has racially abused his cousin, and despite there being a very high chance that that player is in fact guilty (all of the evidence, including video footage of the alleged comment, appears to point to it). That's a seventh and I still don't understand it.

Scum. Absolute scum.

I don't understand it.

PJW

An almighty backfire

2012-02-01T20:04:00.001Z

One thing which the government is doing at the moment which interests me is looking at a cap on benefits to £26,000 a year. Now, broadly I'm in favour of that (despite some exciting fuckery with the CSA) - it's equivalent to a £32,000 employed income when tax is taken into account, which is a fair chunk of money and, while I don't claim to be the expert on everything, I find it difficult to believe that a family couldn't live on the equivalent of £32,000 a year. It might not be the most luxurious thing in the world, but it's income from not working.

I may be bitter from the fact that Wife and my basic salaries are £30,000 between us, through working 40 hour weeks.

The BBC have put up an article with a case study, detailing a couple in Wales with seven children who currently receive £582.40 a week, whose income would go down by £82.40 a week when the bill passes. It's designed to be a piece that makes you look at the other side of the coin and see how these laws apply in real situations and at first, I was happy to be more informed.

The Mr says: "If these proposals go through we will take a massive hit to our finances - and it's not as if we could move into a smaller or cheaper premises. I see eight people here having to choose between eating or heating."

All very poignant, until you look at the budget diagram that is the centrepiece of the article and notice that they spend £240 a week on shopping. At first, I thought, "Seven kids, I suppose that's where it goes." Then I noticed that that £240 included a budget for 24 cans of lager, 200 cigarettes and a large pouch of tobacco.

Suddenly my sympathy began to dry up and I noticed that there was also £15 a month going to Sky and £32 a month on mobile phones. It may sound penny-pinching to get mean about these things, but Mr has not worked in 10 years. His reasoning is that, "the market for my skills dried up 10 years ago - there's a total lack of work in my area of expertise."

I'm very sorry that you can't get a job in the field which you specifically want to work in, but I refuse to believe that you cannot get a job in 10 years. Even if it's a shitty, horrible nasty job that you hate, you can get a job. My wife doesn't like her job in the least, but she keeps going to it (and I'm proud that she does), because if she doesn't, we don't have any money. This family are outstandingly lucky to be paid a sizeable amount of money simply by dint of existing and I count it as a good mark for our society that we're willing to support the less fortunate, but right now, I'm fuming that he gets an option of staying at home because his area of expertise has dried up.

Let us say nothing about the fact that he's been out of work for 10 years and they have a 5 year old child.

How dare you be in an article and get precious about the fact that society is reducing the gift that we have given you, after you have spent that gift on tobacco and booze? How dare you!? How can you sit there with money that has come from my paycheque and act like you're entitled to it, rather than being grateful that you live in a society where you are taken care of?

I despair of humanity sometimes, I really do.

PJW

ETA. Sparky, if you happen to read this, I'd be interested to hear your take. You're normally my barometer of when I'm being privileged or missing the point entirely because of my inbuilt blinkers, but I genuinely can't see the other side to that article and it's be good to be called out if I am wrong.

No jokes about doorknobs and twine; I'm inclined to take them seriously at the moment

2012-01-25T00:13:00.001Z

I think Creationists are missing a trick. Forget trying to argue that wings couldn't've been created by evolution, they should simply point out toothache and be smug. I cannot see any way in which toothache could possibly be an evolutionary advantage - yes, it signifies that an important body part is failing, which is good, but it does it by debilitating the *entire* body. A predator comes along while you're moaning in the corner and, sod survival, you're actually happy to get your head bitten off because it will stop the PAIN.

I've got quite a bad toothache. In case you hadn't guessed.

Actually, now that I think about it, toothache is a mark against a creator, cause no benevolent god could possibly think this was a good thing. In the past 24 hours, I've given very serious consideration to getting the pliers from my toolkit and dealing with the problem myself.

It started as a mild twinge every now and again and I thought to myself, "I must get a dentist's appointment." I booked one for the earliest time that my work schedule and the dentist's schedule coincided, which was about a month away, and thought myself good. Three weeks and five days later, I have begged the dentists to move it forward one day in the hope that they can make the pain go away. I'm not even sure which tooth is the problem anymore, cause they now all hurt, as does my jaw and cheekbone. I can't distinguish which is the real pain and which is associated pain due to my nerves being overfuckingloaded.

The only thing that gives me any kind of relief is ice cold water, which means that I'm currently drinking in the region of 8 litres a day, which means work has gone down the pan because I'm constantly back and forth to the bathroom. This would've been a problem if it wasn't already down the pan because I can't hear what people are saying about their mortgages over the sound of this sodding toothache. Plus sleep deprivation is a definite win.

So, yeah, apart from that, doing okay. How are you?

PJW

Words

2012-01-06T23:15:00.000Z

Colleague 1: How do you spell "actioned"?

[/me suppresses a wince]

Colleague 2: A-c-t-i-o-n-e-d. Why?
Colleague 1: Because it's coming up with a red wavy line whenever I write it and suggests that I mean "auctioned."
Colleague 2: Oh, that's because it's an American spell-check.

Me: It's because "actioned" isn't a word.

[silence while /everyone looks at me like I'm crazy]

Boss: Of course it is. "I actioned his request," see?
Me: It's not! You cannot action something, it's not a verb. It's a noun - "I performed an action."
Boss: Don't be stupid. Of course it's a word.
Me: It's not! It's a gerund and a neologism and a horrible one at that!

[silence while /everyone looks at me like I'm crazy]

Colleague 1: Now that's not a word. Gerund - what the hell is that?
Me: It's when you have a word...
Boss: Bore off, Emuss. Actioned is a word - it's in the dictionary!
Colleague 2: Google has over 1 million pages with it in.
Me: Google is stupid and actioned is not in the dictionary.
Colleague 1: Look, I don't care. All I want to do is tell this guy that the report has been actioned and I'll diarise him in for later this week.
Me: Please tell me you just did that on purpose.
Colleague: Did what?
Me: Diar... Actually, never mind.

PJW

Avenue Q

2012-01-03T12:01:00.000Z

I'm arranging a group to go see Avenue Q at the Theatre Royal at the end of this month. Tickets are looking to be around 34 quid for stall seats. Was thinking about the Friday evening performance at 8.30pm, unless anyone's got a better idea.

If you're in, drop me a comment.

PJW

Christmas Book Reviews

2011-12-27T02:30:00.000Z

I got lots of books for Christmas. This makes me unbelievably happy. I have a pile of about 15 novels to work my way through, almost all of which I've not read before, which with my reading speed is something that almost never happens. So, thank you to all of my friends and a Merry Christmas to you all.

The first book which I've read was "How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe" and it originally ended up on my Amazon wishlist because I picked it up in a bookshop and was taken by the opening page:

"When it happens, this is what happens: I shoot myself.
Not, you know, my self self. I shoot my future self. He steps out of a time machine, introduces himself as Charles Yu. What else am I supposed to do? I kill him. I kill my own future."

Charles Yu is a time-machine repairman, operating in Minor Universe 31, which is mostly cheap science fiction wrapped around a core of 17 percent reality. His job is to go and fix the machines of people who're stuck after trying to break the laws of causality and he effectively lives outside the normal stream of time. His father is missing somewhere in the multiverse, his mother has retired to a single looped hour of her own choosing and he lives nowhere, doing nothing, with an emotional computer system and a dog that is mostly fictional.

The premise ticks a lot of boxes for me and went into the book expecting a story of time-travel and character growth, which I think is why I was a little bit disappointed. It's not a bad book, but the character of Yu is a selfish drifter and while we're given a little of his motivation vis-a-vis a vague desire to find his family, he's not likeable in himself and his motives are mostly selfish, so it's hard to get behind them.

Another review compares the premise to something that Douglas Adams would have come up with and I have to say that if Adams had written the book, it would likely be something I'd've enjoyed more. The story doesn't seem to know where to focus - there's absurdist humour, but not enough to keep a story around, there's timey-wimey paradoxy stuff, but it's background, rather than anything which is acted upon in the plot. The plot meanders along, before settling on Yu's desire to find his father before the time loop closes upon him, but the character is mean, apathetic and totally self-centred (quoth the kettle) and so I'm unbothered about him finding fulfillment, which is as well, because he doesn't.

Nobody comes, nobody goes, nobody really learns anything. It's saved from being awful because the writing is very good and you can actually enjoy the quality of the prose in itself. However, whether that's enough for a novel...

I suspect I'll be kinder to this book when I inevitably reread it in a few years time, because I'll be coming at it from the memory of disappointment and from the knowledge that it's not what I was expecting it to be. However, for today it was an enjoyable way to pass time, but nothing more.

2/5

The second book that I've read was Machine Man by Max Barry, which was one that I was already a little bit familiar with. You see, Mr Barry effectively wrote the first draft of this book in front of a live studio audience on his website. The first draft is incredibly rough and if that was all I'd known of him, I probably wouldn't've bought. However, he's earned himself a lot of faith from previous excellent novels and there was enough in the first half of the first draft that's available online to mean that I really wanted to know what happened next.

Scientist Charles Neumann* loses a leg in an industrial accident and is left distinctly uninspired by the choice of prostheses that he's offered. Why bother to make something that's almost but not quite as good as a human leg? What's so great about the original design anyway? What's stopping him from starting from first principles, throwing the original idea of 'leg' out of the window and building a limb that surpasses his original in every respect?

And more to the point, when he's done that, what's the point in keeping the other original leg around when he already knows that he can do better?

Neumann is socially inept and can't really understand why anyone would question him wanting to improve himself - he just wants to be better. When facilitated by his amoral employers realising the potential of his research, he throws himself into work, without thought for consequences, moral implications or whether he's going to get to keep control of the Better Parts that he's creating.

The story is one part a history of cyberware, one part commentary on our reliance on technology and one part uneasy interrogation about why we do all feel uncomfortable with the idea of technological augmentation. It's held together with the one thing that the previous book didn't have - likeable main characters. Neumann is socially stunted and myopically focussed on his new parts, but it's disturbingly easy to drop inside his head and understand *why* he's pushing these limits. And when his inventions gain him success, acceptance and the alluring eye of his prosthetist, you're willing for a happy ending, even though you can see the hand of the corp waiting above his head.

I would be amiss to review the book without mentioning the spectacular method of writing. Barry wrote something, every day and it had to go up on his website for people to read and comment on. Some days it was only 3 sentences, others it was a whole page. The major advantage to the finished text was that, while he did obvious research the subject himself, the method of writing meant that his research was almost crowd-sourced by constant reader nitpicking, which makes the novel far cleverer than it has a right to be.

In terms of being a writer myself, it's fascinating to compare draft A with the finished product. Barry writes in a very different fashion to me - I will carve text in rock and, while it's rarely perfect, my first draft is always a legible and cogent novel in its own right. He gets the story down on first draft and writes a *lot* on editing, often cutting huge chunks and adding in other sections. Machine Man is a different novel to the serial which is on the internet, which is not something which could be said about my NaNo and my finished product.

It's fascinating to see where he started from, what ideas caught him and what notions took him up and wrote the rest of the book for him. I'd recommend this book for anyone who writes, just to see a professional author create.

However, for just readers, it's an excellent story. Characters learn and grow, the plot drags you in and carries you to the point where you're loathe to put the book down and the twists that lead towards the ending are sublime. I will certainly be trying to enforce this book on my friends so I can talk to them about it, which is one of my highest measures of praise.

4/5

PJW

*I spent the first few chapters pronouncing it Noi-mann, before realising the pun.

Something to entertain you

2011-12-22T15:27:00.000Z

Go to Google Maps and ask for walking directions from "The Shire" to "Mordor".

PJW

404 - Month not found

2011-12-18T03:52:00.000Z

Sometimes it's very hard to write.

I've had very good intentions and it's not like there's not been things going on in my life that were interesting. The fact that our neighbour thinks we were stalking him as a husband and wife tag-team, for example. Or the minor event of my sister getting married. Or my deep and involved plans for buying a house which revolve around the year end bonuses that I've just secured a chunk of. There are things that I could write about.

But I've been struggling of late with motivation, with mood and with mindset. Sometimes the words just won't come and all you get if you try is an insipid tale of dullness that you yawn to read yourself, let alone letting anyone else see it. You can feel the black dog sitting on the foot of the bed, waiting for you to come to it, because you struggle too much when it comes to you.

I am a very screwed up man and, while I try to be better and I want to be better, I keep knocking myself back down into the pit. That's the thing about depression - when I'm up, I can conquer the world; I want to be a better person and I can make things happen. But when the bad period comes, I lose all focus in self-improvement, because I'm not worth improving and I'll only fail anyway.

So, yeah, that's where I've been. How're you?

PJW

Time

2011-11-28T23:39:00.002Z

Say what you like about Australians (and I do), but this is one of the best bits of advertising I've seen in a while. Kinda beautiful too.

Although the lead is not pretty enough to justify despoiling a book with his phone number. No-one is pretty enough to justify despoiling any book with their phone number. And I've read some bad books in my time.

PJW

Bad day

2011-11-16T13:35:00.000Z

Today began with a very disturbing and vivid dream about a modern Third Reich, in which I was apparently a silent collaborator and had kept quiet to avoid being sent to a concentration camp myself. A psychiatrist would've had a field day with the motifs - depicting myself as morally weak, living in a land where I didn't really speak the language, living in a 'liberated' farmhouse that used to belong to whomever this regime thought of as undesirables and chasing the sound of a crying baby (that I suspected had been hidden by people trying to save it from going to a camp with them) but being unable to find it. Oh and starving farm animals. But it was okay, cause the farmhouse had an ethernet connection so the important things were there.

My brain is damaged.

I dragged myself out of that dream to discover that, if I ran and was lucky, I could be just late for work, rather than very late. So I threw myself out of bed, half my brain still in a German farmhouse hunting for an orphaned baby, and ran to the bus stop just in time to see the bus that might've saved me leave.

And now I'm in work and have already had two bits of business go down the drain, for reasons outside of my control, been unable to get in touch with half the people I needed to, seen my already huge list of "Shit that needs doing today" nearly double in size and have had a chiding from the boss about how I'm not doing enough at the moment, backed up by inarguable statistics.

Great fun.

PJW

Who is Jillian Morgese?

2011-11-05T10:09:00.003Z

So, I was pottering on the internet and avoiding NaNoing, when I happened to look across my traffic stats and notice something odd. Normally, I get a lot of traffic from people googling things like "lesbian's first cock" (and now will attract more for including that exact phrase in a blog), but the clear winner of google searches that led people to click here? "Jillian Morgese"

I went and regoogled the lady in question and discovered that this post is 6th on Google results for her. 6th!

The five above me are her IMDB (showing one credit as "Herself" on a zombie documentary) and four articles about Much Ado About Nothing where she's namechecked in passing. I'm not sure I can believe anyone is that invisible on the internet, especially an aspiring actress. Doubly so when that aspiring actress has just been in a Joss Whedon production as one of the leads.

Either she's operating under some serious non-disclosure rule or she really needs to sack her agent/publicist for not making the most of this opportunity. Or the third, cracky option, which is now ranked 6th on Google - that Jillian Morgese doesn't actually exist and Whedon is in fact fucking with us by putting a beloved actress under a pseudonym for a surprise reveal.

As I mentioned in my last post, if Jillian Morgese is actually Surprise!Summer Glau, the internet as a whole may explode.

PJW

Nature abhors a vacuum

2011-11-04T10:55:00.003Z

Otherwise known as Boyle's Law of Personal Finances.

Last month's paycheque was a very good one, based from a very successful month with bonuses and commission at work. In addition to this, I was keeping to some rough semblance of a budget, sorting out my life and I finally, finally, thought I was gaining some traction. 'I'll be able to save this month and not have to rely on year-end bonuses for a potential house deposit,' I thought.

Then through the post yesterday came reality, in the form of the road tax reminder and the water bill. Boy, that surplus was nice while it lasted...

PJW

NaNoEditMo, Day 1

2011-11-01T22:08:00.000Z

It's a very eerie experience to read your own words again.

The opening chapter (which is where I've begun my grand edit) was originally written back in 2008 and hasn't changed much since then. It's remained mostly untouched in all previous attempts at editing, partly because I kept coming over all sentimental about bits that needed cutting/rewriting and mostly because I knew what I meant when I wrote it and so it felt okay to me. Constant playing with the evolving story meant that I couldn't read what I'd written, only what I'd wanted to read.

It's been seven months since I've so much as looked at the manuscript and it feels now like I'm reading it as a stranger. I can see the bits where I've been waffly, pretentious and downright crap and I've lost the sentiment about paring them out, rewriting and doing better. I think that having the novel finished helps as well, because I'm no longer scared that a structural alteration will bring the whole thing crashing down. I know that it makes sense as a cogent whole now and all that's left is to chisel the roughage off the outside.

The other, unexpected, effect of leaving it alone for seven months is that I now can no longer see the joins. I can't see the individual words that I fretted over. I can actually see the story, the book. Heck, I might even pay money for something of this level. I know for a fact that I own worse-written books.

Early burst of insane optimism aside, I think I might just like my own story. That's kinda cool.

PJW

PS. If anyone's interested in reading the final edition chapters as I complete them, comment here and I'll post them up as I go along. Just promise you'll buy the book when success and fortune catch up to me.

NaNoWriMo 2011... Sorry, I mean NaNoEditMo 2011

2011-10-31T19:55:00.002Z

I love NaNoWriMo to pieces.

For those that don't know, NaNo is the insane writing challenge that tells you to sit down and write. Doesn't matter if you think you can, doesn't matter if you think you're not very good, just get those words down on paper. Cause if you don't, you never will. Every year, millions of people write 50,000 words in the month of November. 1,667 words a day, for 30 days. It's the most thrilling thing I've done in my life (sorry honey).

2009 was the year that finally got me to stop talking about being a writer and actually get down to doing some damn writing. Instead of a five hundred words every few months when I felt like it, suddenly I had whole chapters blossoming under my fingertips. A week went by and I'd written nearly 12,000 words. It was incredible to see the idea that I'd had come to life and become a real live story. Not just a story, but a sprawling epic, that I'd pictured in my mind and thought, "I'll never be able to make something that big."

2010 was almost better, despite not finishing the 50,000 words, as it led me towards the end of the story. I polished it off it in February 2011. I built something greater than myself and it was all due to a silly competitive writing thing on the internet that told you to just STFU and write!

However, since February, I have done very little writing. I told myself that I would start editing the book soon, maybe next week, maybe after I've got that report back from one of my beta readers, maybe next month then, when I've got more energy. I've gone back to talking about being a writer again, rather than actually doing it.

Worst of all, I know, in my heart of hearts, that I cannot NaNo this year. My current work requires that I throw stupid hours at it and while I did manage to keep pace for a bit of last November, it nearly killed me and it did kill my work performance. In a job where numbers == money and a life where money == house/children/no debt/self-respect/future, that's not a good thing. Plus, I suspect that current boss would be less than sympathetic towards my efforts. I also have no holiday left, so this would have to be based around work.

However, I have a compromise solution. I am going to edit my novel and get it into a situation whereby I will be able to start sending it to agents and publishers in December. This is my pledge - 174 A4 pages of text will equal around 6 pages a day of editing, paring down and generally making not suck. I can do that and not die.

And, while I accept the odds are against my novel being picked up by an enthusiastic agent, who instantly gets me a book deal, film deal and t-shirt deal (and I do need some more t-shirts), leading me to riches that allow me to retire from mortgage broking and be a full-time author, the only way to reduce those odds is to never send the novel off to anyone.

Plus, since I'm a glutton for punishment, and writing this has reminded me just how much I've missed writing, I'm also going to work on Book 2 of the Hole in the World series. Let's say... 9,000 words, so 300 a day.

Fortune and ~~more fortune~~ success await! Who's with me this year?

PJW

On Anonymous

2011-10-28T21:53:00.003+01:00

No, not

This Anonymous:

As a purely fictional tale of alternate history, then I'd be quite curious about seeing the tale of Elizabeth's three secret bastard sons and the conspiracies therein. However, since it's presented as "the hidden truth," I can only regard it as the most poorly researched, pretentious piece of claptrap to have hit the screens in a long time.

If you're making a film, I'll offer you the use of dramatic licence and not pick holes in the fact that your plot and 'conspiracy' revolves around plays being published years before or after it's historically proven they were first released. If you're going to flood the internet with, "Find out the truth" advertisements, then you can go fuck yourself. People are stupid enough without you presenting your categorically false film as *the truth* so that they can "learn".

PJW

Possibly the best film ever

2011-10-28T19:13:00.002+01:00

Much Ado About Nothing, starring Fred/Illyria, Wesley Windham-Pryce, Dr Simon Tam, Agent Coulson from the Avengers, Captain Malcolm "Tightpants" Reynolds, Topher Brink...

What does Joss Whedon do when he's bored and has a two week holiday? Invite a load of actors that he's worked with to his house to film a Shakespeare comedy. And keep it completely secret from his hordes of rabid fans, before presenting it as a fait accompli. That is, quite simply, incredible.

I would've wanted to see this just to see Amy Acker play Beatrice, but the depth of acting quality there (and pretties!) is stunning.

Most interesting of the cast list is one Jillian Morgese, whose only other IMDB result is as "Ghoul" on an indie zombie film (and waaay down the castlist on that), and who does not have any major presence on Google beyond articles on this film that give her the full title of "relative unknown Jillian Morgese." She's got the small part of Hero, otherwise known as one of the leads. No pressure there.

Having just written that, I now can't help wondering if Jillian Morgese is a pseudonym actually. There's *nothing* about her on Google and that's very difficult. If it turns out to be Surprise!Summer Glau, I think the internets' collective head may explode.

I really, really want to see this film.

PJW

ETA. Picture!

Cook ALL the things?!

2011-10-28T01:11:00.002+01:00

As of 1am this morning, I have cooked,

5 pork steaks
4 servings worth of bolognese,
4 servings of steak and kidney
4 servings of lamb joint
4 servings of some strange chicken and rice thing
3 servings of chili
a curry
and a mini-pizza

Of all of that, I've only eaten the pizza, but my brain is demanding that hard cooking work should lead to tasty reward and is very upset that I'm not getting any of the other stuff. Bloody freezer.

PJW

Cook ALL the things

2011-10-27T21:31:00.001+01:00

I came home today to discover that my freezer door had sprung open at some point during the day due to an overaccumulation of ice that I've been meaning to get around to defrosting for a while.

Quite apart from the loan which I'll need to take out to pay for the electricity bill, this left me with a freezer in which the front half of the contents had defrosted. Now, I shouldn't be allowed in the supermarket without a chaperone. I tend to have a freezer that's chock-full of, "Ooh, that's a good deal; I could freeze that and cook it at a later date." All excellent value for money when taken singly, but it means that when a tragedy like this strikes... let me put it this way.

I am currently cooking 2kg worth of beef mince, a lamb joint, a packet of bacon, 500g of chicken breasts, 5 pork loin steaks, 1kg of chopped stewing beef and some kidney. I'm hoping to freeze some of the end results to help me out, but I think it's safe to say that the question, "What's for dinner?" will not be lacking an answer for the next few days.

PJW

Good intentions

2011-10-25T20:03:00.000+01:00

I've not been having fun of late. The last post on this blog was a big positive statement about changing my life. This led to 5 days of sorting myself out and then a complete failure to cope with stressful events leading to the wheels coming off in a spectacular fashion.

Starting again tomorrow.

Today also featured work announcing the pay regimen for next year. The long version involved the attempt to maximise profits to prep for the eventual sale of the property which would work very well for all of our share options and to rebalance outgoings to ensure a competitive salary. The short version is that we're getting an effective pay cut, as the bonus structure will now require more work to get the same payments.

Still better than MDO, but when that's your praise, it's not saying much. I think what annoyed me the most was that the presentation attempted to talk it up as a good thing, polish it as hard as they could and hide the bad news. There was little polishing to be done here and I'd've preferred to have been given the bad news and left to stew, rather than be reassured that it was good in the long run.

Still, better than MDO. Very grateful for that.

PJW

Fatboy

2011-10-17T23:27:00.003+01:00

I have recently discovered that I've become fat.

This was something of a surprise to me. I've been broad and well-built since I was about 18 and thus BMI is largely irrelevant to me, as it would take me bordering on anorexia to get into the 'normal' range. Actual weight measurements are difficult to judge, as my erratic weight-lifting habits have at points seen me at 14st 5lb whilst still being slim. My waist has been getting bigger, but if I tensed, I could still see muscle underneath and I tend to wear quite loose jeans as a rule anyway. I could straighten up in the mirror, tense muscles and tell myself that it was okay, because it wasn't that far off being a flat surface. Then I'd tell myself that I really would have to get on with that diet again and go and have a sandwich

Three things have happened to change this:

1) Antony & Cleopatra. The fact that I required a lot of heat sensitive makeup on my back (I got lashed!) and was not needed until the second half of the play meant that I spent large proportions of my evening wandering topless around a dressing room filled with mirrors and pretty people. Due to my ever-amazing vanity, I made an attempt to suck in the stomach and tense whenever possible. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and realised that it made no difference - there was no muscle to be seen beneath the flesh. I just looked like a fat guy holding his stomach in.

2) Rugby on Saturday. I played for the 2nd XV, as I couldn't travel away with the 1sts due to play commitments. I met some people whom I hadn't seen in a long while, including one guy who plays prop, has a fearsome belly and walks from scrum to scrum. The banter was about me trying to be his protege and moving to prop as I'd obviously been 'building myself up to prop.' I looked down at myself and literally had no defence.

3) The video of my boxing match from August. I considered myself to be in okay shape back then and recognised that I'd let myself go from that physical peak (and thus should probably do something about that, eventually, maybe tomorrow). The video told me that I'd been deluding myself, quite heavily. If I'd let myself go from that 'peak', gods only knew what I looked like to the outside eye now.

So, the choice. Do I either accept my destiny as a fat man and learn to roll with the banter, buy bigger trousers, move to prop, start cracking the jokes myself and accept the identity? Or do I fight it, redefine myself, and make me better?

The problem is, as always, the headspace. My depression is better, but not gone and I still struggle to cope with things that normal, sensible people would just regard as a little bit of a bummer. As such, I tend to have coping mechnisms rather than just bloody coping like everyone else. The main two offenders are comfort eating and egregious amounts of alcohol, both of which are ruled out if I'm to do this losing weight thing. And the problem is that a lot of my reactions when I'm down are about self-flagellation, so fucking up the diet is actually an incentive at that point.

The obvious answer is to try and build the fuck-ups into the diet as 'skip' days, but the problem is that I don't know when they're going to happen and if it was easy to regulate them, then I wouldn't have the problem in the first place. Plus I've never been very good with 'skip' days; they tend to turn into 'skip' weeks or 'skip' months. My brain is very binary: I'm either on a diet and doing it completely, or the whole thing can go to hell and I'm eating all the chocolate in the world. I either have rules or the absence of rules, nothing in between.

And yes, I am aware that the above is not sensible patterns of behaviour. There is a reason that I have referred (non-ironically) to myself as mentally ill before.

Diet has currently been going for two days. Here goes Operation Redefinition. Gods bless all who sail in her and let's pray for no icebergs.

PJW

Fisher Price First Cock Up

2011-10-14T23:47:00.002+01:00

Today, I made my first ever fuck-up on stage.

I was expecting that, if I were to screw up, it'd be a mental blank as to what my next line was, or possibly a stammer and slip in the middle of a sentence. I was prepared to work through that.

What I wasn't expecting to do was to stop talking, mid-sentence, and be completely unable to continue, for reasons known only to my brain. I knew there were more words in that sentence, but for some reason they wouldn't come out of my lips.

Thankfully, the line I said was "Give me grace to lay my duty..." which worked well enough in context for the actual line of "Give me grace to lay my duty on your hand" and the actress whom I delivered my curtailed attempt at dialogue to was good enough to work with it and rescue me.

It's a learning experience. We'll go with that.

PJW

Opening Night

2011-10-13T00:49:00.003+01:00

I survived my very first performance of a play. I remembered all of my lines and, even better, spoke them all as well. In the right places, even!

I may even have been accused of acting as well, although I'm sure that's just a malicious rumour. My knees were knocking a little bit for my first scene, but thankfully my part gives me a whole scene of being on stage before my first line of, "Caesar, I go!" which gave me a bit of a running start into my big, complicated scenes.

It's been a heck of an experience being in the play. The quick camaraderie of the group has been fun to be a part of and it's interesting to jump into a completely different social circle. All of my friends at the moment either play rugby or are interested in LARPing (ie. knew Caroline first), so it's nice to spread my wings into a new field. Quite apart from anything else, there are traditions and rules and ways that things are done, which are giving me a whole new respect for the theatre. Plus the acting itself does appeal to my sense of extroversion.

If there's another Shakespeare play going in the future, then I thiink I may do this again.

PJW

Something for the budget planning

2011-10-11T00:49:00.000+01:00

I think the gods are trying to punish me for being too materialistic. First my laptop dies, then my phone, and now my car has returned from what I thought was going to be a routine MOT with £319 worth of work needing doing to scrape through this year's and a promise that next year it's likely to need another £600.

I am thrilled with this development, especially since I bought the car only 11 months ago. I paid a little over the odds for it on the basis that it had just been MOTed, 'serviced' and with 'new' tyres, and with the hope that a car with only 67,000 miles on the clock would not cost me much in servicing.

I'm beginning to think that the salesman saw me coming a mile off. And possibly also that it was clocked, but that's more empty malicious speculation, rather than anything with any backing behind it.

Still, it's £319 now or £1,000 for a new car that will likely also be a lemon, because I've proven I'm unable to pick them. I live for the day when I'm rich enough to buy a car that comes with a warranty.

PJW

The play's the thing

2011-10-10T01:46:00.000+01:00

If anyone fancies a little bit of culture this week, Bath Drama will be performing Antony & Cleopatra at the Rondo Theatre from Wednesday to Saturday. The show starts at 7.30pm and tickets are just £9, or £7 for the first person who wants to come on Wednesday, as I have one going spare.

More info is here and tickets can be bought here or on the door.

Despite me making my stage debut (excluding primary school plays where everybody participated), the show is actually really quite good. The script has been cut well, the leads are strikingly talented, my part is quite small so you don't have to bear me that long and overall I'd thoroughly recommend it.

PJW

The end of the line

2011-10-08T12:02:00.000+01:00

So, England are finally out of the Rugby World Cup.

Despite my patriotic bet before the tournament, we were never going to win it. However, to have crashed out at the quarter-final after limping through all of our games, is galling, especially since we weren't even knocked out by a great team. We were, quite simply, poor.

The coaching staff must change. The attack has been woeful and was effectively reduced to throwing Tuilagi at opposition and hoping he'd do something, the defence gives up 5m every play, the rucking has been appalling and players keep disappearing up blind alleys with support appearing clueless as to what they're supposed to be doing.

I don't know what systems or plans the current team are trying to implement, but they're not working. And they haven't worked for a long while (since Italy in the 2nd game of the 6N - 11 games ago).

Time to move on, change things and start again.

PJW

Love is... being comfortable with flatulence

2011-10-02T22:51:00.002+01:00

Wife is in bed, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted. I am sitting alongside her, poking my the loaner laptop. I've been on my own for the weekend, as she's been off LARPing and have had no-one to please but myself, which has resulted in a lot of cheap-n-nasty food.

WIFE (apropos of nothing): What do you think they are?
ME: Huh? What?
WIFE: They're far too big.
ME: Oh, you're just talking in your sleep. Again.
WIFE: Now that's just being silly.

{pause}
{Sound of my stomach gurgling. Then a very noisy breaking of wind}
{WIFE shoots up in bed like someone's tased her, eyes wild, head lashing from side to side}

WIFE: What? What! What!
ME (trying to sound caring and not highly amused): Oh my god, did I actually just wake you up with flatulence? I am so sorry.
WIFE (more panicking): Don't! What! Wait!
ME: Shhh, shh, it's okay, it's okay sweetie. It's fine. I'm sorry, I've just got an upset stomach.
WIFE: Something was growling.
ME (somehow straight-faced): That was my bottom dear.
WIFE: No, it was something huge.
ME: Not ruling out my bottom.
WIFE: And loud.
ME: Also keeping open the bottom option.

{beat}

WIFE: You'll look after me?
ME: Sweetie, I promise that I will protect you from my bottom for as long as it can ever threaten you.
WIFE: Oh. Okay. Thank you. (Goes back to sleep)

I do love my wife.

PJW

And this is why the blog hasn't updated

2011-09-29T20:51:00.000+01:00

This has not been a good week or so.

First off is the underlying background noise of being deprived of my two main technological assistants, due to fuckery with warranties and insurance. My laptop has been broken for well over a month now and I'm still engaged in the wonderful game of convincing MDO that they need to give me vouchers for a new one.

Now, don't get me wrong, the insurance available through MDO is bloody brilliant in terms of end result - computer is broken = shiny new computer for same spec from current range. I can't fault it on what it actually provides and I would buy it every time. However, the price for this quality is paid in rage, as the laptop inevitably yo-yos between the repair centre and my home and I have to debate the meaning of the word 'fixed' with customer service assistants. There is a theoretical 28 day repair window, after which the laptop gets replaced with vouchers. It's now been about 33 days and I am still waiting because they are trying to identify the fault at their end. It's one of those annoying intermittent issues that disappears as soon as it goes within 5m of a technician and it's really fucking me off right now because until they see it, I don't get my vouchers. And I'm buggered if I'm going to let them post it back to me so it can break here again.

God only knows what I'll do when everyone who I ever worked with at MDO has moved onto pastures new. If I had to deal with just the central technicians over the phone and didn't have the option of going to physically speak to someone I *know* to be competent, I might've started murdering already.

Of course, the smart thing to do would've been to video the fault at home, so that I had proof to show doubting technicians. Being smart, I did this. On my mobile phone. Which is now broken and sent off to repair, where the first thing they'll do is - wipe the data!

The phone is a whole other issue. I bought the phone March 2010 on a two year contract. It broke December 2010. After a *lot* of fucking about, it was exchanged in February under warranty for a new phone of a different type and everything was right with the world. Fast forward seven months to September and my seven month old phone has now started not working. "No problem," think I, "I can simply get it changed under warranty, as it's under 1 year old."

Apparently, only a fool would consider an item under 1 year's age that has broken to be under manufacturer's warranty. Because I bought the other, different model, phone over 1 year ago, the warranty has disappeared. My arguments that a phone which was presented as a suitable replacement should be expected to last more than 7 months fell on deaf ears. Build quality be damned, I'd had a phone of one kind or another for a total of 12 months and therefore the manufacturer's responsibilities are spent. And that'll be £60 for the repair, please.

Beyond unhappy at the moment and dealing with a little turd of a Nokia that's smaller than the palm of my hand and considers storing 50 numbers to be a noteworthy specification.

I was going to whine further, but I think that little flourish of catharsis is probably all that the interwebs needs for one night. If you see me again, I'll probably be wielding a pencil and a yoghurt pot with string tied to it, as anything more technologically advanced will no doubt have been confiscated by gremlins.

PJW

New Comments

2011-09-16T09:44:00.000+01:00

I'm experimenting with a new comments system for this blog. Having tried out IntenseDebate, which seems to have issues with letting people comment without registering and crashes if you look at it directly, I'm now trying Disqus.

The advantage is that you can comment anonymously, but you can also log-in with your facebook or twitter account. I'm hoping it'll make it a bit easier to comment here - please let me know if it's working okay at your end.

The disadvantage is that I wiped all the comments of the last 2 months of using IntenseDebate shortly before realising that I could have ported them. Bugger.

PJW

Torchwood, Miracle Day - In Review

2011-09-15T23:08:00.000+01:00

I haven't done individual reviews for this series, partly because the arc format doesn't lend itself to episodic reviews and partly because I've been very ambivalent about this season. On occasion, it's been very, very good. and yet on others, it's been just plain dull and I've been trying to work out whether or not I liked it.

The things that made me love it in places were when the script did something out of the ordinary. The outraged Dr Juarez, appalled by the overflow camps didn't touch me because the overflow camps were appalling. It was a boring, predictable reaction. However, the middle-manager who killed Dr Juarez by fatally shooting her in a world where no-one can die and burning her alive was inspiring, simply because it was such a heinous act committed by such a petty person for such petty motivation. His panic, fear and self-justification was beautfiul writing.

Similarly, the heroic 'sacrifices' of Captain Jack and Rex weren't touching. They're heroes, they're supposed to be dying heroically. However Oswald's choice of suicide was engrossing and truly, truly awful. All of it was appalling (in a good way), but the nadir was when the lady of the Families told him that he wouldn't get to see the little girl he abused and murdered because he was going to hell and he smiled at her. He smiled and told her that of course he'd see her, because that's where all the bad, wicked girls went and now he would go to join them.

Bill Pullman is a horrific human being and a great actor and my skin is crawling just thinking of those lines again.

The problem with the series was that these spots of excellence were overlayed by so much *talking*. The trick with Jack's blood into Rex was neat and clever and I liked that they didn't feel the need to explain it to us beforehand, but they certain made up for their reticence afterwards. I can understand the victorious villains explaining all of their plans while they have the whip-hand, but do the heroes have to be goddamn garrulous as well?

Overall, it's an incoherent B+ for the show. Better than Torchwood Season 1, not as good as Season 2 and possibly slightly better than Children of Earth. Worth watching, but don't bother about buying the box set.

PJW

Sport as a demonstration of the human spirit

2011-09-10T04:08:00.002+01:00

Good grief. Romania have just come within 12 minutes of the shock of any Rugby World Cup.

For those not familiar with rugby, there's an order to international teams. At the top, there's the 9 big nations who are expected to compete with each other (of which Scotland are probably one of the weakest), then comes the cusp of Italy, Samoa, Fiji and Tonga who are considered banana skins, and after that there's the minnows.

In football, it's possible for a crap team to beat a good one by not doing anything, keeping all 11 players in defence for the 90 minutes and somehow fluking a goal. That's not possible in rugby; if a significantly superior side keeps attacking an inferior one, they will score. It's the way the game's built. That means that when one of the big nations plays a minnow, the score usually goes above 50 points and sometimes 100 points (the record was set in RWC 2003 with Australia 142 - Namibia 0).

Somehow, Romania's players have pulled out the performance of their lifetimes and, 68 minutes in, were leading Scotland by 24-21. They reached down deep within themselves and pulled out courage and determination to bridge the gap in skill and professionalism. They shouldn't've been Scotland's equal, but they made it happen through sheer force of will. Absolutely incredible.

Unfortunately, Scotland managed to pull a couple of tries out of the bag in the last ten minutes that broke Romanian hearts and the final score ended up 24-34 to Scotland. I can't imagine how the poor sods in the Romanian dressing room must be feeling right now. They've stretched themselves beyond anything they dreamed possible, but they've got nothing material to show for it. However, they do have the respect of the rugby world for their character.

I do love this sport. Totally worth getting up at 2am for.

PJW

2:00am...

2011-09-10T02:58:00.000+01:00

I managed to survive all of yesterday without learning the New Zealand vs Tonga score. I'm actually amazed by that, especially since I have a boss who's a) interested in sport and b) interested in teasing people. Trying not to learn the score of a sporting occasion is a balancing act: do you ask people not to tell you and run the risk of someone who wouldn't otherwise be interested finding out because they think it would be funny to mess with you, or do you keep quiet and run the risk of someone well-intentioned trying to talk to you about it?

Thankfully I guessed correctly, decided to lay myself at my colleagues' mercy and, after impressing on them that this was really important to me, they chose not to be 'funny'.

So far, the world cup has been worth the crazy sleep schedules. New Zealand beat Tonga as expected, but the minnow put up a good account of themselves and managed to make a very good fist of it in the second half. This morning's first game is Scotland vs Romania, which should in theory be an easy Scotland victory, but is turning into a close game. Scotland are leading 18-11 at half-time and are playing into the wind in the second half.

Kick-off now. Back later...

PJW

Three-Quarters Antipodean Time

2011-09-09T07:16:00.000+01:00

As you may or may not be aware, the rugby world cup is starting today, in New Zealand. Because of the pressures of television audiences and the need to sell television right to major European markets, all of the England games will be played on weekend late evenings NZ time, which makes them a sensible time in the morning over here. I think the earliest is likely to be 7am, which isn't too bad, and means that a casual fan will have no problem keeping up with the team.

Unfortunately, I am not a casual fan. I'm currently up and moving at Why-The-Hell-Am-I-Awake o'clock (and have been for the better part of two and a half hours) as I am attempting to reset my body-clock to a more eastern time-zone, so that I can do things like get up at 2am tomorrow to watch Scotland vs Romania.

I think there is something seriously wrong with me.

Ironically enough, despite all this effort, I'm still not going to be able to watch the opening match live, because the bastards have put it as a late evening kick-off to make it more accessible and thus have made it inaccessible to me because I've got to be in work at 9am. Please don't tell me the score or result (even if it is the expected one - I hate watching a recording of a game where I know 100% how it turns out. 99% is much better).

Thankfully my wife is a very tolerant and lenient person and has sanctioned this madness on the conditions that she's not required to join me and that I make sure that I get enough sleep at some point each day. For some reason, she's worried about me following my modus operandi of sleep deprivation until I literally drop.

On the bright side, it's an interesting experiment into how I run my day. As a normal rule, I'd be more likely to see 5am from having stayed up that late rather than being able to get up that early and I'm fairly certain the latter is more healthy.

Glory or psychosis awaits!

PJW

The perils of publicity stunts

2011-09-02T20:26:00.001+01:00

Being somewhat anally retentive, I spotted this display in Sainsbury's for the Rugby World Cup and attempted to name all of the nations that the flags belonged to.

This one baffled me though. The inscription in the top corner of "In God We Trust" suggested Pacific Islander, but the only three qualifiers were Samoa, Tonga and Fiji and I knew all of them.

Giving up, I used GoogleGoggles on my phone to take a picture and identify the flag and was tickled pink to discover that it was the flag of Georgia.

No, not this Georgia:

This one:

Resulting in several concerned bystanders wondering why this strange man was standing in the middle of the fruit aisle, laughing like the bananas had just told him a good one.

Being the lovely person that I am, I took the time to find the manager and tell her that perhaps she ought to report back to her superiors that Sainsbury's should have a look at their promotional material. While I think I'm probably one of few passersby pedantic enough to work out the mistake, I don't think it's a good idea to attempt to exploit a major world sporting event by demonstrating that you care enough to pay minimal attention to it!

PJW

Public Service Announcement

2011-08-18T18:54:00.000+01:00

My phone has been playing silly buggers today. So if I haven't replied to anything, it's not that I'm ignoring you, it's that I didn't get it until 2 minutes ago.

Thanks for all the birthday wishes, btw.

PJW

Twenty-seven years of narcissism

2011-08-18T12:48:00.001+01:00

I think I may adopt this as a new tradition - random googling of "I am X" and seeing what image comes up.

This morning has been bloody lovely. I don't know whether I've been especially brilliant this year or whether my friends and family have just decided that 27 is a good year for compliments, but some of the cards that I've got have got some lovely words in them. I almost believe them.

I've finally got to play Portal 2 as well. For the last 4 months, it's been my proposed reward if I stick to my (very restrictive, low-level) monthly budget. Each month, I've failed to be disciplined enough and have not been allowed to buy it. I may have strayed a tenner or two over the budget this month, but what the hell, it's my birthday, so I've allowed myself to have it. I've only played a third of it though, so no spoilers please.

Even better, later I will make cake and cookies and eat lots of nice food that I can because it's my birthday and the diet can go to hell.

After writing that, a thought has just struck me. I'm a very odd person in that I am either completely in control or completely out of it. I either diet ferociously, counting calories and grams of protein, or I eat horribly and gluttonously and get fat. I either count the pennies or I spend everything. I either schedule and timetable myself into oblivion or I sit and vegetate. There's rarely a happy medium - I do or I don't and each extreme is probably as unhealthy as the other :D. The thing is that I generally enjoy both ends of the spectrum - I like indulging, I like spending and I like vegetating.

It's just occurred to me that I've admitted to three of the deadly sins in that last paragraph, but what the hell.

However, it's struck me today that of late, I've only been going out of control when something bad has happened. I've been letting myself go to ameliorate a bad day, some fit of despair or another roil of depression. Today is the first day in a long time that I'm indulging my vices to peak a good mood, rather than to try and smooth a bad one. I like this way better.

Although the diet break will have to be only a one-or-two day thing or else I'll have worksuit vs waistband issues.

So, onto the important business -

Things I did when I was 26 that I hadn't done before:

Sold a mortgage.
Sold a life insurance policy.
Earned more than £1,500 in a month.
Came out at work as bisexual.
Finished a completed novel.
Went to a costume party with a costume that I'd been working on for 6 months.
Started a Shakespeare society.
Delivered a Hamlet solilique to an audience.
Gave up Diet Coke for Lent (a whole 7 weeks!).
Successfully auditioned for a particular part in a play.
Went to Wales.
Learned a tiny little bit of iaido.
Went rock-climbing on proper rocks.
Punched someone.
Punched someone hard.
Got punched by someone where it hurt.

It's been a pretty good year, I think.

PJW

Serious about geekiness

2011-08-13T18:55:00.001+01:00

This video is only 40 seconds long, but you need to watch it all the way through to get the laugh of the 5 seconds at the end. It's brilliant.

PJW

Thoughts of the morning after

2011-08-13T08:31:00.001+01:00

I've woken up with a slightly swollen nose and a dozen regrets. He was not happy in defence and I think if I'd pressed a bit more I could have had him in serious trouble. My technique went to hell and if I'd thought about what I was doing a bit more then I could've made a couple of my punches more effective. I had him properly staggered at one point; did I go for the kill enough? If I'd danced a bit more and fenced his jab could I have tired him out? So many what-ifs that I could've done a little bit better on.

Most of all, I'm still pissed off at the bad luck of being stopped for a damned nosebleed. He was leading on points where we stopped, but I really think I could've taken him in the last two rounds.

However, it was a hell of an experience and I don't believe I embarrassed myself. I'm pretty certain that I may even have gained the grudging respect of my rugby team who were watching. Thank you to the people who came out to support, especially the SR group who made banners (!).

I'll just have to do better next year. {grins}

PJW

The Big Fight - The Result

2011-08-13T01:33:00.000+01:00

Well, I lost.

Stopped in the third round because the ref was uncomfortable with the fact that I had a nosebleed. Admittedly, it was a fairly sizeable nosebleed, but it wasn't affecting me fighting and I was perfectly compus to continue. To say I was not impressed would be an understatement.

Still, if there's no ref, there's no game and it was his decision. The fight was fairly poised, with my opponent having had the better of the exchanges in the first two, but with me having rocked him and him starting to tire. Neither of us could defend well and more than once we were left toe-to-toe, swinging at each other and waiting for the other to drop. I knocked him back against the ropes once and he caught me a fourpennyone around the ear that made my head sing. It was a good fight and I don't think anyone was particularly pleased that it ended when it did.

Oh well. Next year.

PJW

Do something nice

2011-08-12T14:11:00.001+01:00

There are currently volunteers for the Bath food bank standing outside Sainsbury's, taking collections. It may seem like another bloody charity, but they give vital help to people who're struggling and a little gift from you might be enough to save a desperate person from giving up.

In this time of riots, it's nice to know that there are still people who give a shit about their fellow man out there. A fiver will pay for a week's dinners for someone who can't afford to feed their kids. If you can, pay them a visit today.

PJW

The Big Fight

2011-08-10T22:53:00.000+01:00

Two days before the fight and I'm feeling quietly confident. Training's done, kit's sorted, nothing to do but wait.

Can't wait.

I'm looking forward to this so much; I've been preparing so hard and so long that I just want to go out there and impose myself on the fight. I want to knock my opponent to the ground and make him stay there. I've never hit someone with the intent of hurting them in my near 27 years on the Earth* and the feeling of breaking out of the rules and confines that I set for myself is thrilling.

If anyone whom I haven't badgered into buying a ticket wants to come, they are £20 from me and numbers are limited. It's this Friday at the Bath Pavilion near North Parade. Doors, bookies and bar open at 7.00pm, boxing starts at 7.30pm and I will be the third fight on the card, so probably stepping up at between 8pm-8.30pm. The money goes to Help for Heroes and it promises to be a very good night.

Powerhouse Pete Emuss invites you all. {grins}

PJW

I've been trying to find the words

2011-08-09T22:35:00.003+01:00

You stupid, self-absorbed, selfish, privileged pricks. What the fuck do you think you are doing? You're not protesting or making any grand sociological statement; you're just opportunistic vultures, taking what you can from others.

Even if you truly believe that you're making some kind of anarchistic statement, you're burning down people's workplaces. You're smashing the windows of their houses. You're destroying family businesses that have gone back generations. You're running through residential areas in the middle of the night and striking terror into parents who don't know if they can protect their children if you choose to come inside. This is your anarchy in the UK. I hope you're proud of yourselves.

I believe the best in people. Whenever someone is excoriated for doing something stupid, I'm the person speaking up, trying to find the angle where they didn't mean to be evil. And now I'm literally reduced to tears by the scrolling newsfeed on BBC because I can't find any rhyme or reason to what's happening. Britain appears to be full of selfish, spoiled children who get their kicks destroying things that others have worked hard for.

I didn't know that anything could make me consider emigrating, but you people have made me ashamed to be in this country.

I just don't know what to say.

PJW

Playing the bastard

2011-07-31T19:09:00.000+01:00

Because I don't have enough going on in my life right now, I've blundered into amateur acting as well. Someone who came to my Shakespeare group passed on an urgent request for male actors for a production of Antony and Cleopatra that she was involved in and I made the decision to pitch up, more out of an interest in publicising the Shakespeare society than anything else.

Somehow, I ended up getting a part. I'm playing Thidias, who is basically the dirty-works man of Augustus Caesar, who promises Cleopatra the earth to persuade her to quit Antony, lying through his teeth all the way. It's quite a fun little role, which I'm sure will mesh in nicely with my rugby training, boxing, writing, revising for my CeMAP 2 exam, pulling extra hours to try and hit the big target for work and anything else which I manage to decide is a good idea to volunteer for.

PJW

Wales Holiday

2011-07-30T11:47:00.001+01:00

Take six people, all of whom fancy themselves as chefs and all of whom are mildly competitive, put them in a secluded cottage in Wales, near a high-quality butcher's and allocate them all an evening to cook for the others. I don't think I've ever eaten so well, so richly and in such quantity in such a short space of time.

I have come to a conclusion. The only required ingredients for a successful holiday are to travel with a group of people who abide by two mottos when it comes to food: "Buy good meat," and, "Never knowingly undercatered."

Aside from the occasional food-induced coma, the holiday itself was wonderful. It was slightly more busy than I was expecting it to be; everyone seemed to be in favour of very organised and highly regimented fun which filled most of the days and involved getting up early in the morning. It did mean that we got maximum value out of our holiday time though.

On the first day, the organisation led to a trip to the Talyllyn Railway. If I'm reading this in a far-distant future where I don't recall my childhood obsessions, the Talyllyn is the preserved steam railway that Peter Sam and Skarloey from Thomas the Tank Engine are based upon.

My wife insisted that the rest of the group agreed to this outing, as it was her birthday and she got to choose. My wife is lovely.

So, I got to spend the morning as a 7 year old boy again, bouncing about the steam engines and leaning as far out of the window to see as I could. Although, 7 year old me would've been very disappointed in some of my basic errors in locomotive knowledge, not least when I accidentally referred to the engine as 'the train' in fron of the conductor. {shame}

We then went to see waterfalls, to give Caroline a birthday treat that wasn't vicarious, followed by a cavern trip that attempted to be a spooky and atmospheric journey back into the time of King Arthur, but failed miserably because the displays had all the spook and atmosphere that repurposed shop mannequins could manage.

Saturday morning led to the new experience of swimming in a river that was so cold that it literally burned your feet upon initial wade. I suspect it originally started off as melted snow at the top of one of the nearby mountains. I won the unofficial competition by going all the way in, even to the extent of swimming underwater for a few seconds, but that was only after a *lot* of jessying about of the short, complaining about how much it has hurt the toe that I'd dipped in.

I don't think I've yet mentioned how lucky Helbling's family is to have a house this nice. They built it themselves, many years back and the river actually runs through the back garden. It's surrounded by thick woodland, dense enough to make you believe that it's the only house in the world.

The scenery of the area was stunning. As someone who grew up in East Anglia, my mental picture of 'a valley' is the space between two gently rolling slopes. In Machynlleth, the hills rise so steeply and high that it's like being surrounded by a circlet of mountains. When the clouds were low, it was impossible to see the top.

I always protest to Caroline that I want to holiday outside the country to see and learn something different, to broaden my horizons and to understand a bit more of the world outside of my extremely narrow slice. I was keen on this holiday because I got to spend more time with people that I rate as awesome (and because it was cheap). I wasn't expecting to be broadened by a region that's technically part of the country that I live in. Guess I was wrong.

Doesn't mean that I won't be campaigning to go abroad next year, darling.

After the ice-bath of Saturday morning, we went to Portmeirion, which Xanthipe described as "a rescue home for buildings." I thought she was being flippant until I discovered that all of the buildings had actually been transplanted from locations all around the world to evade demolition. A mishmash of colours and architectural styles that only worked together because they were so eclectic.

Portmeirion also boasts a beach that doesn't fuck about when it comes to quicksand, as both Caroline and I discovered. Thankfully, we were both wearing solid boots and didn't go any further than our knees, so we didn't lose our footwear to the bog, but it was a very disconcerting experience. Very hard not to react instinctively and dig oneself deeper.

After the excitement, we found a coastal hike and rockpools, to delight Xanthipe further.

Sunday was the long-awaited day of rest, where we sat and read and recovered a little bit from the enforced march of fun. I enforced Mira Grant upon Helbling and she retaliated with Marian Keyes. I think we were both happy with the other's recommendation, although I occasionally worry that I've got a little bit too much of the Thomas in me in the way I look after my wife, so that was mildly unnerving.

We weren't completely supine for the day; Dantarian and Xanthipe led a tai chi class, taught me some basic Iaido (the Japanese martial art of fighting with a sword) and then I volunteered to let people try to punch me in the face to train me for my boxing. Doing this in the presence of two martial arts people, one former kickboxer and a wife with a lot of frustration to vent possibly wasn't the most sensible idea...

The evening brought games, films, booze and 2.75kg of roast lamb. Never knowingly undercatered.

Our last full day, Monday saw me get up early to fulfil my cooking turn with a full-English for the group. Then we went out to the beach at Aberdyfi, whereupon it drizzled with rain for the only time in the holiday. Bloody Wales.

No photos of that day unfortunately, as I was too busy losing at petanque, demonstrating my ineptness at frisbee and generally throwing myself about the sand for the entertainment of others.

All in all, it was a fantastic holiday. I expected it to be so for the company, but I was really surprised by how much I enjoyed Wales itself. Diolch, Cymru. Now all I have to do is lose the extra inch around my waistband and try and get back into the swing of training for the boxing.

PJW

Since all the cool kids are doing it

2011-07-19T23:57:00.000+01:00

I'd be interested in knowing what flaws/features you guys would attribute to me.

Johari
Nohari

PJW

Torchwood in Review - Miracle Day, Pt 1

2011-07-14T22:51:00.003+01:00

In short - hmmm.

Normally I hate the "Next time on..." clips that some shows have at the end and try to switch the television off before I can see any of it. I don't want to be spoiled by little cliplets when I can discover how it happens in the real episode. This time, however, I watched, because I wanted to know whether there was going to be enough to keep me watching the whole series.

When I don't know that after the first episode, it's not a brilliant sign.

The thing is that the episode wasn't bad. I didn't actively dislike it, but... For those of you not familiar with the premise of the new series, the world changes on a sixpence with the discovery that suddenly no-one is dying. People crash cars, get shot, fall of buildings, but they just don't stop living, no matter how injured they are.

Sounds good in theory, but the show opens up with the first downside. A convicted paedophile and rapist is due to be executed by the State of Kentucky, with even anti-death-sentence protestors muted by the fact that his defence upon being arrested was, "She should have run faster." He receives the lethal injection and rather painfully fails to die.

The downsides keep coming - a man suffers a car accident and gets three metal pilings through his torso. He's in agony, with no guarantee that he'll ever heal damage that a body was never meant to survive. And in addition to the individual stories, the world's population is now growing by 500,000 people a day and it's only going to get worse.

The concept is interesting, but I couldn't help feel like we'd played it through before. The best storyline in the rather hit-and-miss history of Torchwood was Owen's death and subsequent resurrection. He was dead, but walked, burdened with the prospect of a never ceasing unlife that could never change, with a body that would never heal its injuries. It was clever and thought-provoking and I gave a shit because of the interaction between characters that I knew and liked. Their pain meant something to me, because I knew them.

This time round, I'm apathetic. The threat is to the world as a whole and frankly, I just can't seem to care. A planet does not inspire empathy. People as a whole rarely inspire empathy. A person, however, one person, does. So far, I've not been given any character whom is directly threatened by the big bad to empathise with. And so I'm struggling to care.

The closest thing we have to a character threatened by the end of death is the CIA agent played by Mekhi Phifer, who was the man punctured by metal pilings I mentioned earlier. However, he seems to be Bruce-Willising past the holes in his chest, with added manly grimacing, and my attempts to like him are hampered by the fact that he's distinctly unlikeable. His first introduction is of him being rude and dismissive to his colleage so that he can talk about the great news of a boss's wife's leukaemia and how he can play it to win promotion for him. I'm not on his side. He follows this up by being hugely privileged about rules not applying to him, being rude to the co-worker again, being a dick to an air hostess, being dismissive of Britain and finishing up by backstabbing and comandeering Torchwood.

I'm not so sure that I didn't actively dislike it now.

Good stuff, good stuff, there must've been good stuff... Rhys and Gwen's paranoid life in deepest, darkest secluded Wales was an interesting touch and I liked the reprise of the bickering-while-in-mortal-danger bit that they did last season. I hope there was some defining event that sent them running for the hills though, as it feels a bit weak if Children Of Earth is all that they feel threatened by. I'd prefer it if they had run because people kept trying to hunt them down, rather than because of a one-off threat that was categorically no longer going to be chasing them. One thing which I did like was Gwen putting ear defenders on the baby before picking up her gun with her free hand and shooting a helicopter. Very neat touch.

The problem is that Gwen and Rhys were fine as characters in an ensemble show, but I don't think they're strong enough to carry a show on their own. I miss Ianto, Owen and Toshiko, because I don't think the show works with this few people in the team. Captain Jack Harkness could help, but he spent most of the episode being mysterious and flitting in and out of scenes, so he's not been an asset.

Overall a grade C. I'll keep watching, partly because there's potential, partly because I'm fond enough of the show for it to have earned a little loyalty. But so far, it's not hugely impressive and I can't imagine that it'll be winning a huge new vista of American fans with that as the opening episode.

PJW

ETA. New reason to watch next week - Dichen Lachman is going to be making her first appearance of the season. I'd forgotten she'd signed up to Torchwood. For those who watched Dollhouse, she was Sierra. For those who didn't, she's a brilliant and versatile actress and was the joint best thing in Dollhouse alongside Enver Gjokaj.

ETETA. Very amusing recap of the episode which takes the piss all the way through. But in a nice way.

When I recommend, ask me when I last read it.

2011-07-14T02:48:00.000+01:00

I own a fairly sizeable library. Even if I were to read one book a day, it would take well over a year for me to read through everything that I own. This means that there are books in the library that I haven't read in years.

I generally count this as being a wonderful state of affairs. However, I've been brought up to a little bit of its shortcomings by my complete failure in recommending books to a friend of mine.

I grew up in a middle-class family, in a middle class, white-dominated area, as a white, agnostic, straight (at the time), average height, average build male. With the best intentions in the world, there was no way in hell that I wasn't going to have inadvertent privilege blinkers. I try my best to educate myself and understand other people, but it's a process and I learn new lessons every day.

This has led me to this scenario occuring more than once:
Me - "Read this, read this, read this! You'll love it. Great characterisation and right up your street."
Her - "Okay, sure." {reads}
Me - "Isn't it great!?"
Her - "Uh, yeah sure. It's swell."
Me - "You didn't like it?"
Her - "Well it kinda annoyed me when [insert gross bucket of fail here] happened and [character x] did [fail action y] and it was presented as okay."
Me - "Wait wait wait... they did what?" {thinks} "Huh, yeah, I guess they did. I'd kinda forgotten that bit. Sorry."
{beat}
Me - "Okay, so that book was no good, but this book, you're gonna love."
GOTO 10.

It took me until the second time this happened to work out what was happening. I probably bought the book at 19, when I didn't know anything about anything and had no problem with bucket of fail, because I wasn't really aware that it was fail at the time. I probably reread it at 21 and again at 23 and while probably then in a position to recognise fail as fail, I glossed over it, as it didn't fit in with my brain-category of "awesome book" and my privilege allowed me to relegate the fail to the status of "not that important."

This leaves me now at 26, recommending books with fail in them to someone whom I know has a very low tolerance for fail. It also leaves me with a friend who's one more recommendation away from never trusting me again (joke... hopefully).

I found it interesting both as an example of unconscious privilege (the ability to relegate fail to "not that important" status is something that a lot of privileged people don't realise that they even have!) and also of how our brains and selves change as we get older. Hopefully improving as we go.

PJW

Fox News UK

2011-07-13T16:10:00.000+01:00

Someone sent me this link while I was reading about the phone hacking. Found it mildly amusing.

http://www.foxnewsuk.com

PJW

A blast from the past

2011-07-10T18:07:00.000+01:00

Back when I was working at Monde Des Ordinateurs, I had to deal with a fairly sizeable number of stupid people, made worse by the fact that most of them willfully resisted anything resembling education on the subject that they desperately needed help with.

One of the stupid 'facts' that the stupid people used to cling on to so desperately was about the glory that was Windows XP. "It's so much better than any of the new ones." "I don't want to change for the sake of change." "I just want what I've always had." "The new ones have just made it worse and there's nothing better in them." "I'm a moron who doesn't understand the first thing about com..." Wait. That last one was me paraphrasing.

Let's get one thing straight - Windows XP is crap. At one point, it was indeed, the cutting edge. Nowadays, it's crap and only suitable for computers with < 1Gb of RAM, that can't take Windows 7. It's obsolete, useless and anyone who can get anything better, should.

I say this from having spent the last day trying to fix, and then subsequently reinstalling, Windows XP on a friend's old laptop that sadly isn't good enough to take anything better.

Windows XP does not believe in built-in recovery. Windows XP does not always believe in a resolution above 640x480 in safe mode, which is just enough room for you not to be able to access the buttons on an average driver recovery program. On that note, Windows XP's inbuilt database of drivers could be called, at best, flimsy.

Wipe clean, re-install. And discover that Windows XP does not believe in Serial ATA drives. At all. It denies their existence and declares that the laptop in question is obviously not fitted with an HDD, as it can't find anything on IDE1. Oh, it is possible to convince it that there is a hard drive attached to something other than IDE1. You just have to find the drivers for the specific SATA chipset (a wonderful chore in itself), put them onto a 3.5" floppy disk and insert it during the install process. I had to go to a computer that was working, hack the Windows install disc *1 and build a new one that included the correct SATA drivers built in.

I had to break my copy of Windows XP before it would install on a laptop. Does this sound like the messiah operating system to any of you?

And then, to add insult to injury, it wouldn't accept the genuine Windows security key that I fed it. Why? Because I used a slightly different disc to the one that originally came with the computer. Never mind that it's the same version of the OS, it's a slightly different disc and so therefore it cannot be allowed.

Let us not mention the fact that you have to install 2 service packs before it will understand wireless internet (and even then, only in a, "Se habla 54G?" kinda way), the fact that it doesn't want you to go into C: as it considers that a security risk, the fact that I had to use a command line interface to convince it that it wanted to understand one of the drivers, the fact that if you breathe too heavily on it during a service pack install, you have to wipe and start again or even the fact that it is so insecure and shitty that it can be utterly destroyed by a virus and leave the technical support to deal with this kind of shit. The friend whom I'm fixing this for is not a computing neophyte; she's far from incapable herself. She just doesn't have the required array of technician programs that I have from my old incarnation as a repairman.

It's just finished installing SP3 now, which means that it's just about ready to perform modern computing requirements at just under the level of Windows Vista. Granted, Vista's a bloated hog that wouldn't run on 512Mb of RAM, but at least it wasn't released in 2001, back when you couldn't use your internet and your phone at the same time.

God, I'm glad I don't work at MDO anymore.

PJW

Book Reviews - World War Z and Feed

2011-07-06T01:08:00.005+01:00

Every so often, I get a yen for a particular genre of book. I read one and then I bounce from author to author, running through whole series to see how different writers have dealt with the topic that's caught my interest. It's led me to owning a wide and diverse library, but anyone looking at my purchases only over a short period of time would conclude me as being very narrowly read!

A fortnight ago, during the big deep-clean that preceded a landlord visit, I found a Waterstones voucher proclaiming £20 and was pleasantly surprised to discover that I hadn't spent it yet. I rectified that quickly. With having had two days off work sick, I polished the books off pretty quickly too.

Before I proceed with the reviews, I will make the following two warnings. Firstly, the reviews will be as unspoilerish as I can make them, but I can't 100% guarantee that I won't slip. And secondly, the genre that has piqued my interest in this buying spree was cleverly posed zombie fiction. So for those of you of a kinethanatophobic disposition, I'd suggest that you don't follow us below the LJ-cut.

I described the books as "cleverly posed" zombie fiction, because zombies of themselves are boring and have been done many, many times. What struck me as interesting about these books was that they didn't fall into the trap of making the zombies their main draw. They're books set in zombie worlds, not books about zombies.

Still with me? Good.

First off, we have World War Z. The conceit is of a book written by an anonymous compiler, who worked as part of the team producing the United Nations Postwar Commission Report and was irked by how dry and factual the final report ended up being. "Just the facts" and he could take his human interest stories and write his own damned book. So he did.

A good counter-factual history book will take the history that you know and make small logical jumps, at just a good enough pace that it doesn't break your suspension of disbelief. This book takes the world that we know today and converts into one people (and governments) had to cope with the dead suddenly walking.

Max Brooks, author of the Zombie Survival Guide, has built a world that's detailed, in-depth and disturbingly believable. His zombie apocalypse starts in China, spreads through international travel, fleeing refugees and illegal organ transplants(!), undercutting the world before governments are willing to believe it, leaving them struggling to gather some semblance of control. The history is told through transcripts of interviews, both with global movers and shakers and with ordinary joes who just happened to be in the wrong place.

The great strength is the same as that of a good counter-factual history novel; it doesn't take great leaps, but keeps you believing with small movements of what you already know. I believe in a China that attempts to conceal the initial outbreak and take care of it without the eyes of the world seeing, even to the extent of manufacturing a crisis with Taiwan to take eyes off what it doesn't want people looking at. I believe in an Israel that puts its institutionalised paranoia to good use by being the first nation to believe its spy network and using that time to retreat inside more defensible borders, build a big wall and isolate itself. I believe in a USA that attempts to solve the problem with a show of conventional military might and discovers their inflexible approach woefully inadequate.

More than that, I believe in the man who makes a fortune selling a bogus vaccine and the US administration that enables him in the name of public confidence and I believe in a film mogul trying to start up propaganda films to give people hope that the battle is winnable. It's almost like a book of short stories, set inside the central theme of how the tide was turned and the war was won.

The only downside of the transcripts approach is that you don't get a running empathy with anyone, as there's no consistent character that ties the book together. But then again, this isn't a book trying to tell a story of people - it's a book trying to tell a history and at that, it's very good indeed.

---

Feed, on the other hand is all about making us care for its characters. At its heart, it's a conspiracy novel, with valiant reporters battling to get to the hideous truth that will turn society on its head.

The story starts in 2040, 26 years after the Kellis-Amberlee virus screwed everything up. One genetically engineered virus to cure the common cold and one that had been given to nine patients as an experimental anti-cancer drug. Both did their jobs superbly, until the anti-cold virus met one of the nine with the anti-cancer virus to form a new airborne disease that cured both cancer and cold, but was so infectious that it took over a host upon becoming 'live'.

The result is a world where everyone (and every animal over 40lbs) is infected with the KA virus, but it only becomes active if you die or are infected with live virus from someone who's already been activated. This means a world where any congregation of people is an outbreak waiting to happen if someone keels over from a heart attack.

The mainsteam news outlets died a death when the KA virus rose, as they feared hoaxes and looking foolish for too long, covered up and ignored outbreaks and cost lives. In its place stepped the blogosphere (word never actually used in book), full of noise, but with enough signal that people could find accurate, uncensored and unbiased information easily enough.

The main characters, adopted siblings Shaun and Georgia Mason (variants on George now being the most popular names in the world due to Mr Romero's films having saved many lives!) are professional bloggers, who have just been selected by a US presidential candidate, to cover his run from initial primaries through to the national vote. Their selection gives them enough fame to strike out on their own, with unprecedented ratings, personal success and, best of all, the guy they're following is both a decent human being and looks destined for the top spot.

Of course, the problem with a decent political candidate inviting uncensored investigative reporters to trail him is that not everyone in the world is going to have skeleton-free cupboards and plots that they want shown the light of day. Pretty soon, the assassination attempts start rolling in. And in a world where one dead body means a whole lot of trouble, the shot doesn't even need to be fired at you to be fatal.

The best bit of this book is the two main characters. Georgia is the earnest "Newsie" from whom people expect to hear unbiased truth, while Shaun is the thrill-seeking "Irwin" blogger, providing vicarious thrills to scared citizens. They're not biological twins, but you wouldn't know it from the loving banter, which is amusing, witty and shot through with the kind of black humour that you'd expect from people who've never known a world without infection.

I loved their interactions - they enter security airlocks together, despite being told many times that they shouldn't because if one fails the 'virus activation' test then there'd be no saving the other. They look after one another constantly, with the impression being given of two halves of a whole, rather than two individuals.

The conspiracy that they come across unravels slowly enough that it starts off being something insignificant that they chase from curiosity, and by the time they realise they're locked in a lethal game with forces inside the US Government, it's far too late to get out.

The book is well-written enough to draw you in and the inevitable zombie-movie moment where one of the named characters gets bitten is horrifying. Their mind collapses in on itself and their last words before the bullet was asking their own name. Films don't wig me out. Books this good, where I care about the characters, do.

If I had one complaint (and I have to, by law), it'd be that I see some of the Chekov's Guns a little too clearly. It may be because I'm a writer and I'm used to placing them there myself, but I guessed some of the later plot developments just simply by an item, action or event being noted upon in just slightly too specific a fashion. YMMV though.

ETA. Actually, I've just thought of another complaint - one of the main characters is called Buffy. It's a self-referential joke, with the character in question being small, blonde, into old television shows and calling herself that because Georgette is so common and it seemed appropriate for a world of monsters. However, it's a name that carries a lot of baggage nowadays, especially in the kinds of people who're likely to read this genre of book. To dub a adrenaline-phobe computer technician as "Buffy" risks a disconnect with the audience, as they constantly have to keep readjusting their perception your character from their head-picture of what they have a "Buffy" as being. As a writer, I'd always say to never use a loaded name unless you either want to use the trope or you've got a really damned good reason. I think she just about gets away with it here due to good overall character writing, but YMMV again.

I'd recommend both of these books to anyone on my friends list (Xanthipe aside, obviously), but if you've only got money for one, then I'd recommend Feed, as being the one that's left me thinking longer and the one that had more of an emotional impact.

PJW

Paranoia

2011-06-22T11:34:00.000+01:00

Today has been going suspiciously well.

I was up until 2.30am cleaning the house (landlord visit today), but I got up to the alarm without problem and am not hugely tired.

Left the house late due to hoovering that couldn't be done last night because of fear of waking nice downstairs neighbour and was resigned to both running to work and also being late, when I got heckled from a passing van. It was someone I knew from rugby and they were good enough to pull over when I begged for a lift. I got into work 5 minutes early.

At work, I've had a sudden burst from nowhere, with two applications declined by the lender being accepted on appeals that I thought were a waste of my time. Then two people who've been ignoring my calls for weeks have chosen today to pick and want to go ahead with the apps. Plus it turns out that one I did last night went through, so that's 5 applications, almost from nowhere. My minimum target is 1 a day.

I'm fully expecting it to be a trap. Either Compliance will phone to talk about mortgage fraud or our landlord has decided to sell our house. Possibly both.

PJW

Things I have discovered about having longer hair #421

2011-06-17T00:23:00.000+01:00

Apparently, I have developed a tic of fiddling with my hair when I'm thinking or exasperated or overworked. I can understand not realising this when I had a clippers cut. Now that I've been growing my hair for 6 months, it's started to become more of a visible problem:

On the bright side, it's a tic that's allowed me to expand my look-a-like versatility:

PJW

Oh god, he's doing his own theme tune

2011-06-10T23:39:00.002+01:00

One of the major things in my life at the moment is this boxing match which I've signed myself up to. It's just over two months away now and my life seems to be full of training, dieting, selling tickets and preparing myself for this fight.

Training's going fine; I think I'm really improving my boxing skills. Dieting... well, ask again later. And ignore the beer that's currently in my hand. Stress and mind issues are not conducive towards dieting atm; I'll get around to it. I've sold enough tickets that I have earned back my bond and am some way towards helping my opponent earn back his (cause I'm just that nice a person). You guys are awesome, by the way. Preparation? Got the kit, got the training, got a volunteer for corner-man (although wouldn't hate other volunteers if they're willing) and got my entrance musi... ah, wait. Knew I was missing something.

It's actually quite difficult to find a song that epitomises the impression you're trying to give well enough to be a theme song, yet gets top the point early enough that it works for entrance music. First choice was Going Under by Evanescence, but that doesn't kick off until at least a minute in. Touched and Requiem for a Dream is even worse for getting going.

I did consider the comedy ones. MC Hammer is an obvious choice, A Little Less Conversation from Elvis summarises my response to the pre-fight chat that I've been getting from my opponent, Dr Horrible is very much a niche audience and I did consider the perennial favourite before deciding that enough people wouldn't get the joke to find it funny. The problem with comedy is that I actually want to be mildly threatening at this boxing lark. I'd actually quite enjoy coming out of this with a reputation of, "Nice guy, but really, don't fuck with him." Hard to do with the perennial favourite as your theme tune.

So, that leaves three that I can think of:

Angry enough, quick enough into the main song if you cut the first 20 seconds of posturing. But... definitely third favourite so far.

The louder this song is, the better it sounds. I'm reliably informed that the sound system we'll be using will be pretty damn loud. Early favourite.

Classic, but not exactly original. One could argue that, if it's good enough for Tony Stark, it's good enough for me, but it's being held back by the fact that I'm worried it's slightly pretentious for little old me.

Which brings us onto the audience participation part of this blog - does anyone have any suggestions/preferences from the options already stated?

PJW

ETA. If anyone doesn't get the blog title, then pity yourself for a moment and then watch The Emperor's New Groove.

Who In Review - Back by Popular Demand

2011-06-09T02:26:00.001+01:00

No, really. Someone has actually commented, requesting a return of Who in Review. I'm really rather pleased.

Unfortunately, Doctor Who has slightly petered out. It was always going to be hard to top the awesome that was The Doctor's Wife, but the episodes about The Flesh (sounds like an BBM/W porn star) felt very flat to me. Carbon copy, people in danger, Doctor running about, blah, blah, blah. Wacky hijinks with a side of lost TARDIS and no escape route. Matt Smith flirting with himself was kinda cool, but the story had too many inconsistent characterisation issues and plotholes for me to feel happy with it. Quite apart from anything else, play follow the Sonic Screwdriver if you rewatch the episode. Even if you say that The Flesh made a new one for Flesh!Doctor (and, on that note, The Flesh makes clothes? Really?) so there was two floating around, then it still doesn't make sense.

Was Human!Grieves meant to be a sympathetic character? She started the whole thing by being excessively stupid at the situation. Everyone was working fine together until she came along and was stupid at them. I didn't understand her motivation for randomly attacking the gangers, I don't understand at what point she reconciled herself to them and I don't see why I should care about her brain blood clot.

And the ending was so holey that it was barely worth bothering with. Why people had to stay behind at all baffled me - a locked TARDIS does not respond to brute force, why does it need time to dematerialise? Why did we spend so much time on the message of "They're just like us, really!" if you then undermine it with leaving the two 'spare' gangers to die, with the only gangers to survive being replacements for the humans. "We don't need those two - we've still got the originals!"

So, yeah. Underimpressed, it was solid enough as fluff went, with at least the ending promising more interesting things.

The next episode started well enough. Rory got to be epic, which I always thoroughly approve of. I like him a lot because he is human-level. He's a little bit crap, a little bit scared, a little bit indecisive, but it means that when he does something awesome, it's actually awesome, rather than "Oh, Character A has activated his superpowers again. Yawn."

The idea of the Doctor and Rory cutting a swathe through time and space, gathering information and building an army was a very neat idea, although I deny the existence of the stupid space-Spitfires and am considering doing the same for the Pirates of PleaseGodDon'tMakeMeWatchThatEpisodeAgain. However, as soon as River Song said she couldn't come, my mind flashed to the popular fandom prediction that the little regenerating girl was River and that she was Rory and Amy's daughter. I then spent the rest of the episode hoping that it wasn't correct.

It put a crimp in my enjoyment, unfortunately, and it's coloured my impressions of the episode.

Reasons why I dislike that River is Amy and Rory's daughter:
- I like River. I tolerate Amy. Linking the two is not something I'm in favour of, especially since it gives added importance to Amy's position in the show. The character already remade the universe from her memory and feels free to boss the Doctor around; she doesn't need to be more important.

- Secondly, the Doctor and River are clearly an item. The Doctor is close friends and a peer of her parents (in fact, Amy and Rory are not his peers, he's senior). He's effectively her uncle. Timey-wimey it all you like, but he was in a position to change her nappies. That's not a good place to be, from my PoV. Too much of the Connor/Cordelias about it.

- Thirdly, this means that Melody is never going to have any semblence of a normal life. Her mum and dad know how she grows up. Knows what she does when she's older. Who she does, even. How on earth is that going to be healthy, even with a strict spoilers rule? Will she ever be a little girl and not River's younger self?

- Fourthly, from a story-telling perspective, we now have an anchor at both ends of River Song's story. We know she dies in The Library and we know she's born to Rory and Amy. We know where she comes from and where she ends. So where's the story going to head to now? A normal story goes beginning to end and the suspense comes because you don't know what happens to the characters in their future. A reverse story goes from end to beginning and the suspense comes because you don't know where the character comes from or how they got there. In both cases, the suspense comes because the potential change that could occur is infinite. Here, it's bounded, especially since there's a link between the Christian soldiers here and her captors in The Time of Angels, which suggests that she's been in their care/custody for most of her time, right up until Silence in the Library. We know that the story will have to snap back to what we know and that any change is limited. Bad writing.

Overall, the episode had some really good points. But it's just spoiled for me by having something which I thought was hugely lame be presented to me like it's a huge plotty gift. I wish they'd kept the receipt.

PJW

Things that don't quite make a blog on their own

2011-06-07T23:17:00.000+01:00

I'm opposed to super-injunctions on general principle; yes, everyone should have a right to privacy, but rich people with expensive lawyers shouldn't have more of it than anyone else. They're a tool of the rich and while I despise the gutter press and the gossip culture, there should not be a legal tool that tells me what I can and can't talk about.

The only problem is that the flagship case which is likely to scupper the stupid things is the worst example of the gutter press and the gossip culture and that by standing against super-injunctions, I have to stand by people's right to know who Ryan Giggs is shagging. Having to take the same side as the Daily Mirror and News of the World is almost enough to make me switch over.

---

Why on earth are people bitching about not getting Olympic tickets? Yes, it wasn't the best organised thing in the history of the world and the idea of not being told whether you were successful and instead ust having money spirited away from your account was risible, but it was fair. It meant that we didn't get an unholy rush of people crashing a website and all of the tickets being out of reach of those who weren't available to shop between sale-opening and 5-past-sale-opening.

There were x number of tickets available and y number of people wanted to buy. It was always going to be the case that y was far greater than x, so the only fair way was a ballot. When things are in short supply and in high demand, it is possible that not everyone will get a turn. That's life.

If you didn't get a ticket, don't like it, and won't stop bitching, then I offer you the most heartfelt commiserations that I can offer. Unfortunately, those commiserations may sound like "Shut the fuck up and stop whining, you stupid fucking moron," but I'm afraid it is the best that I can offer.

Incidentally, I also don't want to hear about how unfair it is that you don't have an underwear model husband/wife, that you didn't win the lottery last week or that you haven't been selected for Britain's Got Talent, despite you being the most accomplished special snowflake ever to specially snow.

---

Formula One has excelled itself. I can appreciate that, as a sporting event, they want to stay out of politics as much as they can and they wish to stay as politically neutral as they can. But this is a country where a peaceful protest is put down with state force, state security forces then charge a major hospital where injured and dying protestors have retreated to and then the state arrests and charges 47 doctors and nurses with treason and fomenting rebellion for obeying the hypocratic oath and providing medical care to injured protestors.

It's not making a big political statement if you say that you no longer wish to be associated with that state. It's not a big leap off the fence to say that this might be a bad thing. Sadly the best that Formula One could do back in February was to call it off because they were worried about their own safety. Note that the protestors were irrelevant; it was the ~~white people~~ important people's safety that was the concern.

However, Formula One have reinstated the Bahrain Grand Prix on the grounds that everything's fine now. No, really, they did some research with the ~~government mouthpiece~~ Bahrain National Institute of Human Rights and have discovered that Bahrain is now "stable", "quiet", "completely normal again" and has an atmosphere of "total calm and stability".

That's wonderful! Excellent news. Someone should tell all the people whom have tried holding protests since the emergency law was lifted last week. Oh, wait, the security forces have already informed them. With "tear gas, rubber bullets, sound grenades and birdshot."

On the bright side, the Formula One teams, powered as they are by ~~money~~ a sense of goodwill to all men, have slowly realised that people are upset and that ~~it may cost their sponsors money~~ they have to do what is morally right. They have issued a firm declaration that they do not want to race in Bahrain. Because they're concerned about the rearranged race making the season too long.

Because making it all about the human rights tragedy would be too risky a statement to make. Better to base your argument on the inconvenience of ~~white people~~ important people than on something petty like freedom of speech.

PJW

Pain in the name of being responsible

2011-05-17T23:39:00.000+01:00

One of the bosses at work came up to me today and asked, "You like rugby, don't you?" Upon getting a yes, he asked, "Would you be interested in going to the Premiership final in a fortnight? There's a corporate ticket going spare to the game; I think it's Leicester vs Saracens."

For context, this would be climax to the domestic season in the sport that I love, at a stadium that I love, in game in which the team that I love will be playing, in a corporate box with a brilliant view, where I'd be given free food and drink, which I'm sure I could grow to love, given time.

I had to turn him down.

Writing it down like that almost makes me want to cry. It had the potential to be the perfect day out (with only the minor risk of Saracens beating Leicester to worry about), but I can't afford the train fare to get to London. And the thing is that, while I know I could acquire the train fare if I tried (no less than three people have offered me loans until payday after hearing this story and I've no doubt I could find more if I tried), money is tight right now and I know that, while a £40 loan isn't huge, it would need to be repaid out of next month's paycheque. A lot of that is already set against various debts, promises and needs. I can't. I really can't.

I've just reread the second paragraph again and have had a go at trying to convince myself again. I can't. And apart from the money, attending would mean blowing off Shakespeare that evening, possibly blowing off Dan if he comes to visit and more importantly, screwing my budget in order to afford a day out which would be ruined if my team lost. I just can't.

Boy, I love being grown-up. It's so much fun. Oh well, at least I'll be able to watch it on television.

PJW

Dignity vs Fitness

2011-05-17T10:28:00.001+01:00

Yesterday, I went to Boxercise. This was a mistake.

Normally, I go to the gym to lift weights. I'm either there because I need to be stronger for something, I'm vain or I want to lose weight, and increasing muscle mass does so much more for those requirements than cardio ever would. And normally I have rugby training and games to keep up my base level of fitness, so it's not a problem.

However, I know that fighting is hard work from my year doing karate and it's a different kind of hard work to rugby; it uses different muscles for endurance. And I will never do efficient fitness work on my own; I get bored far too easily. So Boxercise seemed like an ideal idea.

Unfortunately, while it sounds like the kind of exercise class that middle-aged women can puff their way through, Boxercise hurts. A lot. Nobody hit me; they just broke my spirit and dignity with abusive circuit training until I could barely raise my gloves, let alone throw another punch. My arms ache and last night I struggled to carry a dinner plate.

The worst thing? The other two people in the class were a middle-aged woman and a 14 year old. And they embarrassed me. I'm sure that they cheated by having attended before, but I still got schooled by a tiny schoolgirl.

It's good for me. And it won't be good for my opponent if he's not doing the same. Just keep telling yourself that and it'll all be fine.

PJW

The latest fitness kick

2011-05-15T20:21:00.000+01:00

I am now officially boxing. August 19th at the Bath Pavilion, against someone smaller and weaker than me. Result! Although that does make the distinctly non-zero possibility of me losing slightly more worrying. Tickets are £20 if anyone fancies coming along to see if I'm actually capable of punching someone without apologising afterwards.

I went for my first session of training down the gym today. I won't lie; it hurt a bit. It's very depressing to think that just 5 months ago, I looked like this:

By which I mean slim and muscled, rather than out of focus, blond and in a He-man outfit. I've been out of focus on several occasions, but I haven't been slim and muscled for a while. It's the Ricky Hatton approach to personal fitness - intense improvement towards a single specific goal before crashing into fat bastard-land again after it's done.

Here's hoping I manage to survive this latest round of self-improvement with my psyche vaguely intact. Oh and my septum as well, I'd like that to be intact at the end as well.

PJW

Who in Review - keeping up the rhythm

2011-05-15T14:15:00.001+01:00

Doctor Who so far this season has been iffy, good, bad and I was hoping that we'd get a similar rebound this week from the pirate catastrophe as we did from the Silence part 1. Boy, was I not disappointed.

That was one of the best hours of television that I've seen in a very long time. Neil Gaiman was always likely to bring something special, but that was superb.

The central conceit of the TARDIS going into a human could have been screwed so badly by a poorer writer or actor, but her lines were perfect in conception and delivery. The right mix of excitement at new sensations, confusion at having to think alongside and talk to people who look at time in a straight line and gentle tolerance for her thief. Plus I have tremendous love for the line, "Biting's wonderful; it's like kissing, only there's a winner!"

I think what made this episode great was that most other staff writers, if allowed to take on something with as much fan resonance as a temporarily human TARDIS, would have made that the only plot of the episode. It's tempting in writing, when you have a really great idea, a great concept, to think that it's all you need and it's not. A story that's just an idea, a fancy, is as light as air, no matter how interesting and thought-provoking that fancy is. The trick is not to fall so in love with your idea and to realise that if you wrap it around something more solid, then it can be great.

To that end, House the TimeLord murderer was perfect. I've not watched any Doctor Who before Christopher Eccleston (I'm not a huge fan of older television sci-fi; I tend to find it draws a mirror on its contemporary day, while I like how modern sci-fi reflects on my lifetime. Plus I do get distracted by cardboard sets and 'special' effects), so I'm always fascinated when we get to see something about where the Doctor came from and who his contemporaries were. All we've seen so far is of them being villains, whether that be the Master, the redshirts from the end of season 4 or the scenery-chewing of Timothy Dalton, so it was nice to see some evidence of the "good ones." And it added to the tragedy in that all of the victims were suckered in by trying to save someone else and ending up as part of the bait for the next. The Corsair was a fun idea (and confirmed in canon that regenerations can be either sex, which is interesting).

House himself was a very fun villain, loving playing up the evil overlord and flaunting his unlimited cosmic power before being defeated by not being quite as smart as he thought he was.

I'm being incoherent - normally in these reviews I have a main thread of things which I think were notworthy, but I could write the entire script down here. I haven't even mentioned Uncle and Auntie, the lovely nudge to the Doctor's guilt over his genocide without drowning us in pathos, Amy's hallucinations of an abandoned Rory, Rory working out the best way to let House keep them alive, the control room from Nine and Ten's day, oh how I loved that reference, the Doctor sending Auntie and Uncle away because he's angry and doesn't want them there if he explodes, the scene where the Doctor and the human TARDIS are overlooking the graveyard of the ones who came before, her name being "Sexy!", the discussion about the police box doors opening inwards... I could keep going. The only things which I didn't love was the superfluous Ood, which I thought was mildly unnecessary. And I've really struggled to find a single nit to pick there.

No doubt next week will be dire, just to keep up the rhythm and balance out this excellence. Frankly, I'll be okay with that.

PJW

Who in Review - Apparently everything is not better with pirates

2011-05-07T21:39:00.002+01:00

I may be slightly biased against this one because it hit one of my major pet peeves in one of the last scenes, so my overriding impression of the episode was one of, "CPR does not work like that!"

CPR is not simple. It is theoretically possible to accomplish something by just having seen it done on television, but it's very unlikely.

CPR is not neat. Mouths need to be cleared of blockages, ribs will likely break in the compressions and resuscitations from drowning will often be accompanied by vomiting.

CPR is not easy. Giving up and wailing your grief after two goes round may be very dramatic, but by doing so you've effectively killed them. Keep going! Don't stop just because it's dramatically apposite! Yes, I know you're tired. Deal with it.

And on that note, CPR is not a one player game. If there are two people there and you've both got a similar level of competency, you should both join in. Having a spectator does not help your performance, angst-tastic though it may be. Do you know what does help your performance? Help. Have you ever inflated an air mattress/lilo/beachball with your lungs, on your own? Makes you dizzy, doesn't it? And how would you fancy your chances of keeping it up if you were having to do pressups as you went. That's about the level of physical activity we're looking at.

CPR does not involve kissing. At all, ever. I'm sorry, I know you were promised "the kiss of life" and you can complain to the ASA after I've finished, but if you're snogging, you're doing it wrong. Either that or your kissing technique involves forming a seal around your partner's mouth and exhaling hard, in which case I'm so sorry for any partners you get your hands on.

And sixth major crime that the show committed was the cardinal one - CPR DOES NOT WORK AFTER YOU'VE STOPPED WORKING! Fun though dramatic license is, you cannot get away with having the Big No when the CPRer loses hope and then having the CPRee spring back to life at the moment of greatest drama. It's not a magic incantation that might take a couple of seconds to work; it's a physical process. The compressions aren't just fun and exciting; they're actually squeezing the heart to move blood around because the heart has stopped beating. It doesn't magically restart when it realises that you're not going to play anymore!

On the bright side, the episode at least didn't commit the last two sins for the full house: gentle bouncy-bouncy CPR that barely brushes the skin and thoroughly unnecessary CPR, when it's brought out for bullet wounds, head injuries and people that are still conscious. Pro-tip - it's nicknamed the kiss of *life* for a reason. If your ~~victim~~ patient is not clinically dead when you begin, then you've started too early.

The only realistic and sensible portrayal of CPR that I've ever seen was on Buffy and that was because it was perfectly protrayed as a panicky and desperate act by a barely trained and panicky amateur. And it didn't work.

I feel better now that I've got that out of my system.

I'm not even going to bother cutting this, as my criticisms won't really include spoilers. The episode was disappointing, I didn't give a shit about any of the red-shirts and the captain was thoroughly unlikeable as someone who'd apparently turned to piracy just because he was greedy. No redeeming features or poignant backstory - it just turned out he was a bit of a bastard. But I think we were meant to be rooting for him, so I'm slightly confused.

The monster was dull, the plot meandered and the twist was not so much "Huh!" as it was "Is that it?" And Amy chose to play dress-up before saving the day, rather than just going straight out there. Yes, Pond, you looked cool in the pirate hat. But for all you knew, your boys could've been killed in the time you decided to take getting kitted up! Plot and character shields wouldn't let it happen, of course, but I don't like being reminded that the characters I'm watching are obeying the rules of fiction, not the rules of life, and I especially don't approve of something being crowbarred in and fucking with my sense of immersion just so that you can have a cool costume for the front of the Radio Times.

So far, the season has gone Meh, Fantastic, Huge Disappointment. Here's hoping that the pattern continues next week with another Fantastic.

PJW

Hypothetically speaking...

2011-05-06T19:55:00.001+01:00

If I were to have signed up for a charity boxing match, would people buy tickets to come to watch me pummel/be pummelled? It'd be in August (I think Friday 12th), the tickets would be around £20 and I would have to sell 10 of them in order to be allowed to compete.

PJW

ETA. For the squeamish among you, would you sponsor me to get pummelled instead of coming to attend?

Vote Yes

2011-05-05T10:26:00.000+01:00

Because it'll give more of a chance for your voice to be heard, even if you're not in a swing constituency.
Because it'll reduce the number of seats where most of the constituents hate the incumbent.
Because you won't have to choose between voting for what you believe in and voting for who you think is going to stand a chance.
Because it'll reduce the chances of the BNP getting power.
Because all of the reasons the No campaign have said are complete shit.

Don't vote No:
Because of Nick Clegg. Twat he may be, but AV isn't about supporting the Lib Dems.
Because you've heard it'll cost more. Australia uses this system with pens and paper and their elections didn't cost any more when they switched.
Because you've heard it'll create more hung parliaments. Australia has had less hung parliaments than us over the last 30 years. AV won't help or hurt.
Because you've heard it'll help the BNP - why are they campaigning for a No then? They know that a system requiring them to have 50% support won't see them get power.
Because you've heard it'll be unfair and ruin one-man-one-vote. If I ask you to get me a drink from the shops and say, "If they don't have Diet Coke, I'll have Pepsi," am I asking for two drinks? Am I ruining one man one drink?

The polls are open until 10pm tonight. Please go and vote.

PJW

Whether it means what we think it means

2011-05-02T11:35:00.000+01:00

Osama Bin Laden is dead.

Assuming that there hasn't been a fuck-up and the USA haven't killed his decoy Jeb, this is a fairly large moment in our lifetime. Whether his actual enormities were actually top of a list of death, Bin Laden has been the watchword for 'evil' in a way that Saddam Hussein was before him and Hitler will always be. Apparently crowds gathered outside the White House to chant "U-S-A" when the news was released.

I'd like to hope that this is the start of a chain of events that brings down fundamentalist terrorism and leads to people generally being a little bit more tolerant of each other, but the cynic in me points out that Al Quaeda stopped being a one man band a long time ago and it's far more likely that the assassination of its leader will lead to revenge than reconciliation.

I don't really know what my point was in this blog, which is usually the point at which I realise that I don't have one and delete it to save you all from my banal wamblings. However, I wanted to write *something* to mark this, even if it was just saying that I didn't know how.

PJW

Who in Review - where part two belies the "meh"ness of part one

2011-05-01T21:25:00.004+01:00

Blimey. Where do I start with my word eating from "Previously on Who In Review"? Part two gave me the two things that I hoped it would and two which I didn't see coming at all.

The first thing which I didn't see happening was that they ignored the Doctor's death. Not just a little bit, but completely. I don't think it even got mentioned. While I still think the trope is overused, I am far more comfortable with it being part of the arc of the season. What irked me last time was that the death seemed cheap, devaluing the price of life in the show by emphasising that the important ones weren't really in danger and, more than that, that the threat was minor enough that it would do for trope-of-the-week. I'm much more pleased with the idea of it being serious enough to spend a season on.

The second one was the little girl and the reveal at the end. Wow. That much I liked. Quite a bit. I hope that she isn't Amy's daughter, cause so far Amy's pregnant/not pregnant timey-wimeyness is very boring. Although, if she is Amy's daughter, it would add something to the scene where the little girl confronts Amy with the bullet-hole in her visor.

On a side-note, one thing which I am glad about is that the show resisted drawing out Rory's insecurities. Cause frankly, they're occasionally justified and I already struggle to like Amy enough as it is, thank you very much.

The two things that I hoped for from last week were a good use of the Silence from their promising setup and a continuation of things that would make me like River Song.

I was worried that the Silence would be a simple villain of the week, that the Doctor would find a way to nullify their special powers using a cunning device that he happened to have in his back pocket (or, second favourite, an invention powered by wonderflonium and plot) and they would be transformed from creepy, clever monsters into standard grrr-argh monsters.

Instead, they refused to be depowered in the name of plot and, in fact, got progressively creepier with the revelation that the mind-wipe trick cames with added post-hypnotic suggestion and that, far from invading, they've been manipulating us all through history. It's nice for an enemy to have a superpower that the Doctor isn't immune to; it removes some of the threat when he's too special a snowflake to be affected.

The best bit about the villains was their smugness. The one that Canton shot was actively shocked; it hadn't even considered defending itself against someone so... insignificant. Sure, they can do electric tricks and explode people if they choose, but they actually don't give a shit about you. Why would they - you don't remember them. Look behind you. Look back at the screen. How can you tell me for a fact that one isn't directly behind you right now? I approve of that kind of horror writing.

I also approve of a plot denouement that is both clever and keeps all the pieces on the screen in front of you. I've bitched about Doctor Who doing the opposite before (The Sontaran Strategem, anyone?) - the Doctor only looks clever if he solves a puzzle that you didn't, but had all the parts to. If you've kept one behind his back so the puzzle is insoluble, then the viewer doesn't feel charmed, he feels cheated. This one was great work, very clever and had great poetry in using the Silence's superpowers as the means of their downfall.

On a side note, well played the writing staff for reusing the set from The Lodger. I thought it was just BBC cheapness, but the callback was very well placed and I honestly don't care if it was planned or simply a very well executed lampshade hanging.

River Song's arc is impressing me now. I was mildly underwhelmed by her in her first appearance in SitL/FotD, which progressed to an occasional mild dislike last season. From these last two episodes, I like her very much and it's mostly because of Alex Kingston's acting abilities. She has played River perfectly down River's timestream and the quirks and overconfidence that I disliked previously are explained in this episode.

The kiss scene at the end of this episode was a masterful reveal. In one second, you realise that she has been excessively flirty and couply with the Doctor this episode, but it's only excessive from your perspective because she's spent the whole adventure thinking that they were still a couple! That is utterly, utterly horrific.

I have always thought of River as the Doctor's future wife, but I realised today that I should have been thinking of the Doctor as her old husband, whom has tragically forgotten her. The Pandorica episodes, where she's a little bit cocky, full of herself and steps over the Doctor on occasions? She's still in love with the Doctor and coming to terms with the fact that the relationship is newly over and yet she has no right to be upset or angry at him, because for him it hasn't even begun. From her perspective, she's not overstepping any bounds of short acquaintance, because she's earned the right to be his equal through a long partnership.

I watched Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead today and it was like watching Memento backwards. Alex Kingston's acting fits perfectly with what we now know and I can fully believe in her timestream. I wasn't bothered about her death the first time I watched; she was practically a redshirt. This time, it was powerful.

I am looking forward to the next episode now. That was some of the best Who in a long while.

Incidentally, has everyone seen the Red Nose Day short episode that was a prequel to this season? Official YouTube links here and here. I love the idea of Rory being taught to copilot the TARDIS, of Amy being affronted at not being the most special snowflake in the room (but in quite a cute fashion, rather than annoying) and of the married-couply dynamic that results from "my husband, my skirt and your glass floor." Plus Amy flirting with herself is perfect.

It's a wonderful example of what you can do with a 7 minute short and is really nice character building. Go watch if you haven't already.

PJW

Aftermath

2011-04-28T14:21:00.000+01:00

Wow. Apparently I can type coherently on my phone when hugely, hugely drunk. That's good to know.

So, yes, we lost. They were that tiny touch better than us and deserved their victory, but it was hugely frustrating as we could have beaten them with just a little bit of luck going our way. There were two occasions where we broke through and were stopped centimetres short of the tryline and that would have made the difference.

I played solidly, without being spectacular. I made one really good carry and drove forward 5 metres, but later in the game I made a complete hash of getting under a high ball, lost it in the sun and ended up gifting them possession. I was substituted at 60 minutes, which was expected as we had specialist cover for my position on the bench.

{le sigh} I wasn't bad, I wasn't the reason we lost and I don't think I could have done anything to change the result, but I feel like I could have done better.

The upshot is that I now have a little trophy that says "Bath Combination Vase ~~Loser~~ Runner Up" which I will no doubt ~~put in a drawer somewhere and feel mild shame whenever I come across it~~ display on my mantelpiece and show to my children. Got obscenely drunk with the guys and got into strange conversations with a girl who was hanging out with us and was startled that I wouldn't come on to her. Ended up adopting her, feeding her glasses of water at random intervals to make sure she didn't get herself into trouble and then walking her to the taxi rank. I seem to be making a habit of that when I go out drinking.

And, to answer the next question - no, I don't have a hangover. Gotta love my body.

PJW

We lost

2011-04-28T02:52:00.000+01:00

Possible more updates tomorrow. They were a touch better and the bounce of the ball just wouldn't go our way. Final score of 11-5.

PJW

Match Day

2011-04-27T14:22:00.000+01:00

I'm just a little bit nervous. Just about to sit down to my meticulously prepared, nutritiously perfect, and optimally-timed lunch and, if I didn't know I had to have it, I wouldn't want it.

Three and three-quarter hours to kickoff. Injured hand is iced and I can nearly see my knuckle again, which is good. I spoke to a pharmacist the other day and she advised popping into a doctor's as it's not impossible that I've cracked a bone. "After the big game," I said. I love living in a rugby town; she agreed with me!

Obviously, if there is a break, then playing could make it worse. Don't care. I extrapolated that line of thought to see what would make me care. I came to the conclusion that I might consider pulling out if playing meant the risk of losing the hand. And even then, it wouldn't be a foregone conclusion.

It's scary how much this means to me. Win or lose, this is possibly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Onto my nutritionally optimised lunch. Wish me luck.

PJW

Preparation, preparation, preparation

2011-04-26T09:44:00.001+01:00

I originally planned on having these three days between the bank holidays as a good time to get some work done. Most of the office would have taken the long holiday and I'd be able to gather some good business.

That plan went out of the window as soon as the rugby Plate final was announced. Now I'm not working Wednesday afternoon or Thursday and I can tell already that the one and a half days that I will be in work will be thoroughly unproductive. I'm thinking about the game constantly. My bag is already packed, my club shirt and tie are ready, my kit is checked and double-checked and every meal is planned for maximum rugby efficacy. The last time I prepared this well for something, it was my wedding.

Bloody well hope we win.

On the downside, we had to play a game yesterday, rearranged from December after the snows. It's confused the hell out of me, as my brain is now convinced that today is Sunday and thus not a real working day. When I check myself and insist that I need to be working full tilt and not weekend speed, I then start to think it's Monday, which is only marginally more helpful. I'm waiting for the next logical connection, when I start thinking it's Friday because I'm playing tomorrow!

Anyway, game yesterday was not helpful. Most of our team cried off claiming Easter duties (subtext: "I don't want to get injured for the final"), but I pitched up to a game which we lost with a scratch side, possibly dislocating my little finger in the process. It's popped back in, but is hella swollen, so it's getting Arnica-ed and iced on a regular schedule today, amidst my carefully timed small meals and the short walk that I've planned to get the lactic out.

Mortgages? I'm supposed to be doing those today as well? Well, if I can fit it in, I suppose I can give it a go...

PJW

The Big Game

2011-04-24T23:18:00.001+01:00

Long-time readers of my online wamblings may remember three years ago, and my disappointment at not being selected for my rugby team's biggest match of the year, a local cup final. The disappointment was ground in by the fact that I was not selected in favour of someone whom was by far my inferior in the eyes of a lot of unbiased observers and the fact that we lost the final narrowly, in a fashion that I think I would've been able to influence.

Since 2008, Old Sulians have had tough times. We've had retirements, players moving on to better things, our link with a local school dropping off, changes of captain, coach and personnel. From idly considering putting out a 3rd XV, we ended up barely being able to scrape together a 1st XV. We ended up in a situation where the league we were in was now hideously inappropriate, leading to a season of being hopelessly outclassed every single game. Not fun times.

But thankfully we were relegated last year and the new league has brought us more appropriate opposition, more success, a new link with the university (partially brokered by me, which I'm very pleased about) and a bit more fun at the club. 2010/11 has really turned it around and Sulians have started playing like we should again.

The result? A combination of lucky draws and good form have seen us qualify for the Bath Combination Plate final again. And this time, I'm going to be in the squad. I don't care how many knees I have to break!

On a serious note, I've matured as a player over the past three years and what I've lost in fitness, I've gained in skill and trickery. With a following wind, I am going to be starting for my club, in a cup final, in Bath's stadium, in front of a 1,000-3,000 strong crowd, in the biggest game of my life.

Excitement does not begin to describe it.

The game is Wednesday, at 6pm, and I would welcome anyone and everyone who fancies coming down to watch (it's free to get in). I really wouldn't hate the support.

PJW

Who in Review - now with added caffeine!

2011-04-24T12:30:00.002+01:00

It's nearly midday and I've had only two small cups of Diet Coke. It's weird; I thought I'd've polished off a whole bottle by now.

My very good friend reminded me that the new season of Doctor Who started yesterday, something which I'd completely failed to realise. Last season left a good taste in my mouth with a very solid ending, belying the hugely shakey beginning, and so I've been looking forward to this season. With luck, we shall have more actual characterisation of Amy and less cardboard cutout SpunkyGirlSidekick#47, more Vincent Van Gogh historical figures and less cartoon Churchill stereotypes, more DreamLord and less iDaleks.

I've just realised that all three of my complaints combined in one episode last season (although certainly were not limited to it!). No wonder I hated that one.

It goes without saying that here there be spoilers. I'm going to attempt to LJ-cut it, but it's going to be very difficult cross-platform.

So, if it doesn't work and you haven't seen the episode, please don't read the rest.

Spoilers coming in...

5....

4...

3...

2...

4...

7...

1...

Did that work? I think that worked.

If it did, then I always had faith. If it didn't... well, sorry. If you're looking to stay unspoiled, kindly piss off.

Immediate first impression was of boredom. The show started very slowly. I mentioned to a friend of mine when editing her story that any fiction which describes the characters being bored is, almost by definition, likely to be boring. And once the Doctor gets involved and livens up their lives, he gets killed.

This was intriguing the first time they pulled this trope. Unfortunately, after The Next Doctor and The Stolen Earth, I'm a little bit bored of promises of the Doctor's death. I found TND really intriguing until I found out he was a fake. And I found the idea of a sudden and unexpected regeneration hugely bold and compelling, until it was revealed how they were going to wriggle out of it. The trick is now old and boring - you know you're not going to kill him, I know you're not going to kill him, so why are we even pretending? The start of the regeneration was utterly boring; I never believed Matt Smith would change, so why should I give a damn?

The point is doubly ground in by the hoo-hah and publicity over Tennant's regeneration. I understand that you've got to make the most of the publicity and promote your show, but it means that nothing surprising can ever happen in that vein. At least with Eccleston's regeneration you could've conceivably avoided the spoiler if you stayed away from fandom. With Tennant's, they did everything but put up billboards. Call me naive, but in The Stolen Earth, I had a moment of belief of, "Bloody hell, they kept that quiet. Brilliant story-telling; I wonder who the next one is going to be?" before cynicism kicked back in. Now I know for a fact they'll never be daring, the Doctor's life/regeneration is never truly in danger.

That was a longer tangent than I thought it would be. Anyway, we're off on a whirlwind adventure of grief and "Oh no, the Doctor's dead"ings and I have no empathy with the characters whatsoever. Not a good start.

However, it did pick up from there. River is less annoying and superior and gets another very good speech when picking the lock. I wish they'd use Alex Kingston a bit more this way. I'm not interested in perfect-Song, I'm more interested in damaged-and-vulnerable-Song. Her predictions of the future make me want to go watch Silence In The Library again. Rory is still impressive as the analogue for the viewers. He's a sympathetic coward; the everyday man in the presence of heroes, who really does mind a little bit about being asked to go down the sewer tunnel. Amy spent most of her time being overwrought and precious, but at least she has extenuating circumstances this time.

Things that will bring me back next week:
- Badger from Firefly/Lampkin from Battlestar Galactica as Canton Delaware III (waits for the sci-fi fans in the audience to go, "Oh, that's where I know him from!"). Great actor and I love him in everything he's been in. Interesting fact: the older Canton Delaware III is played by his father.

- The awesome idea of the aliens that you forget as soon as you look away. Very creepy.

- Matt Smith's quipping - "I'm up here being brilliant and none of you are there to pay me any attention. What is the point of me having you all?"

- Curiousity to see whether they'll actually use Nixon at all.

- The ending. I did not see the kid being in the spacesuit at all and Amy shooting first was perfect. I'm going to lay 2p that her shooting is what causes the Doctor's 'death' in the first place. Gotta love predeterminism theory.

Things that could keep me away:
- The knowledge that I'll be watching in expectation of the cheap trick that resurrects the Doctor without regeneration. I predict it won't be good enough to be worth the merciless beating of the deceased equine.

PJW

The last day

2011-04-23T23:52:00.000+01:00

Not long to go now until the end of Lent and the end of my self-imposed deprivation.

Due to the curious, self-flagellating rules which I've had set down in my head since I was 16, Lent starts on the dot of midnight of Ash Wednesday, but doesn't complete until after I've woken up on Easter Sunday morning. This means that there's no value in staying up past midnight to eat chocolate and Diet Coke.

I think I've learned quite a bit from the extra demands which I put upon myself this year. Most important of all is the knowledge that I am beholden to no substance and, while I accept that I was addicted to the chemicals and the self-medication of caffeine (and probably still am), I can survive without it. That was actually the knowledge that I was seeking about chocolate, over 10 years ago, and it's comforting to know that it still holds true.

Good night all and enjoy your religion/chocolate/both of the tomorrow.

PJW

First reviews

2011-04-21T13:58:00.000+01:00

I've just had the first review of my novel from one of my beta-readers. She's a very talented author, who makes me sick with envy on occasions, and so I read her list of suggested edits very, very carefully.

Most of the notes were for tips on sentences that don't flow right, called shenanigans of one extremely wobbly bit of world-building and has generally said that it's an okay read. I'm encouraged by the fact that there were large swathes of the book where she found nothing to say; I doubt very much that it means those bits are perfect - more that she was enjoying the book enough to miss things. I hope.

It's hugely encouraging to hear someone else's view on it. When you're writing a story and you're in the groove, it's like magic happening and the words that run from your brain are a gift from the gods, a direct line to the universe itself. It's wonderful, but as soon as you sit back and look at this distilled genius, you realise it's somehow turned into just a bunch of words. And not particularly well arranged words either.

Suddenly, all you can see are the pores and blemishes, the horrible hackwork as you ground from one scene to the next and you're filled either with the urge for drastic surgery, to save your baby from the hideousness that's enveloped the sparkling genius that you knew was there a minute ago, or you give up and declare it dead and that you were obviously rubbish in the first place.

In short, authors are a histrionic bunch of snowflakes and the best gift you can ever give them is an honest outside eye on their work. Because they're blatantly too crazy to appraise it themselves.

PJW

One week to go

2011-04-16T13:25:00.000+01:00

Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It has been 39 days since my last drink of Diet Coke.

Apart from apparently slowing down my blogging output, I've managed to survive nearly six weeks without too much discomfort. The first week was punctuated with caffeine withdrawal headaches, the second with having to train myself out of the learned instinct to go get a coke when I'm thirsty or tired, but after that, it's been fairly plain sailing. The worst problem has been adapting to life without the option to regulate my own sleeping patterns. I've been very used to just being able to grab a coke to wake me up when I haven't been sleeping well; without caffeine I just have to press through.

It's possibly no coincidence that my first month in over a decade without major caffeine intake coincided with my having an appalling time at work. Unfortunately, this coincided with me moving from the Academy to the main offices and starting work under a new boss. He wasn't impressed with the performance and, frankly, neither was I. Don't know if it was the Diet Coke or if it was just a perfect storm of illness, appalling customers and appalling luck. Thankfully, this month has started a heck of a lot better and, if I just stopped working today, it would still be an acceptable result.

The work focus has shifted a lot though. It's no longer all about results, statistics and keeping the boss happy (although those are nice too), but about money. I'm due to see an extra £600 this month, after tax, NI and student loan have abused the paycheque, and I bloody well need it. I'd like to see more months like this, please.

On a tangent, I love how politicians say that a graduate tax isn't a sustainable option. Speaking as someone who was charged tuition fees on that basis that "graduates earn so much more than non-graduates and so it's only fair" and is still paying back loans despite not actually having a degree, I'd quite like them to look into it. I just thank christ that I got in before "top up fees".

Only seven days to go, not counting today. Easter eggs are bought and there's 8L of Diet Coke awaiting next Sunday. I expect to be vibrating at 9000Hz by midday.

PJW

Bath Amateur Shakespeare Players

2011-03-19T22:33:00.000Z

We are officially a going concern!

I tried to keep things light and breezy by making cracks that I was probably going to be sitting in a hall on my own and playing everything down, but all this week, I've been scared witless that one of the following scenarios was going to happen:
      a) Only my friends whom I asked directly would turn up and it'd be kinda sad.
      b) Not even my friends would turn up and it would be even sadder.
      c) Other people would turn up, be utterly bored and thoroughly disappointed at the sad little attempt at a society.

As it turned out, we had 15 people in total, most of whom I didn't know, and a promise of at least two more pitching up next week. Everyone seemed to have fun, everyone got really into the acting and by the end of the evening we had Demetrius and Lysander noisily squaring up to each other, the murderers from Richard III as a comedy duo and Romeo and Tybalt air-sword-fighting like good-uns. Not to mention Doug playing Leonato for laughs with an agog-face that got steadily more agog as Beatrice and Benedick bickered.

Strangely enough, considering the majority of attendee's stating appreciation for the tragedies over the comedies, we all appear to have pretty good comic timing!

People all seemed to have fun and no-one blinked an eye when I raised charging attendance at the next session to cover costs. In fact most people nodded!

In short, I had a great time, other people had a great time and, all going well, we should be back in business in a fortnight's time. Woo!

PJW

Today is not turning out to be a good day

2011-03-14T16:12:00.000Z

I stayed up until 1am last night, as I had things I wanted to do. Normally, this is absolutely fine for me and I can do it with no ill-effects, but today I've discovered that I can't do it as well as I used to. Not without artificial stimulants, anyway.

Discovering that I'm no longer capable of playing fast and loose with my sleep cycle is annoying in the long run, but absolutely infuriating in the short, as I'm now struggling at work. My lethargy is not helped by the fact that I've been spending the day trying to acquire new business to work on and literally nobody is playing ball. From the guy who hung up when I tried talking to him, to the legions of buy-to-let enquiries that have homed in on me (sorry, not trained for that; pass you to a colleague?), to the innumerable, infuriating answering machines of people who won't pick up the fucking phone when they're supposed to.

Worst of all, I've scheduled appointments for late this evening, which means that I can't even call the day a write-off and knock off at 5.30pm. What do you want to bet that I stay in until 7.30pm and none of them pick up at the scheduled time?

PJW

Fretting over

2011-03-13T14:56:00.002Z

Just received the news that my friend in Japan is safe and well.

Thank fuck, but sparing a thought for the poor mothers who won't hear such good news.

PJW

Fretting

2011-03-13T09:52:00.000Z

An online friend of mine is currently on the lists of the missing after the Japanese tsunamis. The town she was in, Kamaishi, was given half an hour's warning and so the chances are pretty good that she was evacuated and is currently in one of the rescue camps, furious that she can't contact people and let them know she's okay.

But it's terrible to keep coming on the internet and looking to see whether any of the websites have news of her or whether she's managed to post on her blog or something. And if it's bad for me, an internet acquaintance, I can't imagine how bad it must be for her family and close friends.

PJW

Pangs

2011-03-12T10:53:00.001Z

Yesterday, there were no headaches, no sudden attacks of lethargy (well, no more than usual) and I went to bed at the much more sensible time of 2.30am. Piece of (non-cocoa-based) cake, this cold turkey business.

Where does that expression even come from, anyway? I happen to quite like cold turkey, especially in a sandwich, so I'm baffled as to why it's an expression of denial and deprivation of a need. And nothing says that like delicious poultry?

(/tangent)

Anyway, the real problem now is habit. I catch myself with a dry throat and heavy brain at work and my first thought is, "D'you know what would hit the spot right about now? A Diet Coke." My second reaction to this thought is, "Nope, can't - have some water." Unfortunately, the first is, "Oh god, yes," coupled with a rush of saliva into my mouth and a vivid sensation of how it would feel to have the bubbles in my mouth.

I reckon I'm still drinking about 5 cans a day in my head, in that split second between, "Yes!" and, "Can't!"

And dammit, I've just had another mental can writing this. Bugger.

PJW

First day

2011-03-10T12:04:00.000Z

I fell asleep at 10pm last night.

This was not a case of, "I decided to go to bed at 10pm," I just dropped out like a light being switched off. Struggled out of bed at 8.20am and just made it into work on time. Guess my body's not pleased about the removal of its favourite stimulant, which is all kinds of disturbing in itself.

I've been doing my reading on caffeine and the scientific theory goes that it replaces production of natural stimulants. Basically your body chucks a tantrum and says, "Fine! You wanna organise your wakefullness, GO AHEAD! I'm not helping anymore, you interfering prick!"

Said theory also states that, after 2-9 days without caffeine, the body will start taking over again. Here's hoping I'm in the 2 day category.

Other than that, nothing terrible to report. Very thirsty all the time and a few headaches, but painkillers and a full bottle of water on my desk helps with that.

Here's hoping the psychotic break's waiting to happen later in the month, or this blog's going to get even more boring...

PJW

A sensible and well-thought-out plan

2011-03-09T12:33:00.000Z

I first started giving up chocolate for Lent nearly 10 years ago. I was never a Christian; it just seemed like an interesting thing to do and I wanted to see if I was physically capable. Franjly, I also wasn't aware that Lent was so long!

I made it through, much to my surprise, and the chocolate eggs of Easter tasted so good that I decided to do it again. And a large part of the fun was being able to turn around to my inner voice and tell it "See? Told you I didn't need it."

Fast forward to this year and I've added another item to my list for giving up over Lent- Diet Coke. I drink too much of the stuff; I build towers out of the edon'tcans at work and barricades out of the empty bottles at home. I can drink 2L in a day easy - it's actually a rare day when I don't!

The reasons why this is a good idea are legion: money, health, money, teeth, money, to name just five (I worked out that it would almost be cheaper for me to smoke). However the main reason I'm doing this is because I want to be able to turn around in 7 weeks and say, "See? Told you I didn't need it." Cause right now, I know it's a lie.

Giving up both chocolate and Diet Coke. Heavens help me.

PJW

RainyMood

2011-03-06T21:25:00.000Z

Finished editing. I now officially have a novel - contiguous and sans plot-holes that I'm aware of. Now it's gone out to my wonderful beta-readers to find new ones!

Of course, immediately after I've finished editing, one of my friends posts to her blog with the ultimate editing/writing utility - RainyMood. I'm now sitting back, speakers turned up, listening to it rain.

PJW

Definitely not avoiding editing. Not me, oh no.

2011-03-06T14:07:00.000Z

Meme in synch with Women's History Month about women in television and other fiction, taken from Selenak.

Day One: Favorite lead female character: Tru Davies from the short-lived show Tru Calling. Bit of an odd one this, but she was someone who got very used to fate playing silly-buggers with her life, but didn't give up on doing what she thought was right. Slightly formulaic, but very underrated show that one.

Day Two: Favorite supporting female character: Tara from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. You could've taken the two middle words out of that question and got the same answer. Honest, noble and... kind. You don't see many kind characters in fiction, as they're mostly boring, but Tara was the one who looked after people when they were broken, in subtle, understated fashion. It also didn't hurt that she didn't have a clue how wonderful she was, which just made me want to look after her. Pure woobie and I weep wholeheartedly every time I watch that scene in Seeing Red.

Day Three: A female character you hated but grew to love. Amy from Doctor Who is probably the one closest to this, although I'm a step away from loving her as of yet. When she first appeared, I thought that she was written as 'spunky girl sidekick #1'. She could've been anybody, quite often was, and the only time we saw characterisation was her being cruel to the man she was supposed to be in love with. The episode Amy's Choice changed that and made me believe in the character. Hopefully, it'll last through next season.

Day Four: A female character you relate to: Buffy in Season 6 ticked a lot of boxes for me at one point in my life.

Day Five: Favorite female character on a male-driven show: Fred from Angel. A clever character whom is actually clever and solves problems where all the pieces are seen on screen, rather than just pulling answers out of her arse because plot demands it? Sign me up.

Day Six: Favorite female-driven show: Buffy. Hands down. Although Veronica Mars does get an honourable mention.

Day Seven: A female character that needs more screen time: I'm not watching much in the way of new shows at the moment. I was watching Outcasts, but I got tired of waiting for the slow burn to kick into life. Castle is resplendent with good female characters and they all get a fair bit of screen time. Hmm, I guess if we're going back a bit, I'd say Kennedy from Season 7 of BtVS. I hated her, which makes this selection seem a bit oxymoronic, but I think it was because she was forced on the viewer, with very little time to develop her. More time might've made her tolerable.

Day Eight: Favorite female character in a comedy show: Susan from Coupling. She got to play the acerbic, wry straight man and had a lot of the really good lines.

Day Nine: Favorite female character in a drama show: Detective Beckett from Castle. Competent, capable, in charge and, in a rare twist in this kind of show, has no hang-ups about being "a woman at the top of a man's world." I generally hate those kind of storylines, as they seem to draw attention to 'women not belonging there', more than anything else.

Day Ten: Favorite female character in a scifi/supernatural show Since I have already mentioned BtVS and Angel characters, I am going to nominate River Tam. I love loving sibling relationships, mostly because they're so damn rare in fiction. And dear god, did I used to relate to her broken mind.

Day Eleven: Favorite female character in a children’s show: I don't watch much television that could be described as 'for children' so that narrows this down to Doctor Who. From there, it has to be Donna. I was sceptical when they first talked about Catherine Tate, but she's turned out to be an excellent actress and I loved having a female companion who wasn't focussed around finding someone to love. She was his partner and I hated the way she had to leave the show.

Day Twelve: Favorite female character in a movie: I'm very tempted to nominate Natalie Portman's character in Black Swan, simply because of the performance that scared the piss out of me.

Day Thirteen: Favorite female character in a book: Mariko from Shogun. Best book I've ever read and written so well that you fall in love with her as Blackthorne does.

Day Fourteen: Favorite older female character: Judy Dench's M from Bond. Liked her from the moment she arrived in Goldeneye, took control of the room and the conversation and gave it back only when she was finished with it.

Day Fifteen: Favorite female character growth arc: Buffy. What started out as a show about a self-absorbed teenager put upon by fate, became one about a young woman, growing into her place in the world.

Day Sixteen: Favorite mother character: Gail Green from Jericho. She's the archetype mother figure- the one people go back to for comfort and who holds everything together.

Day Seventeen: Favorite warrior female character: Zoe from Firefly. Easily the hardest person of the group and it's displayed as completely acceptable that this should be so.

Day Eighteen: Favorite non-warrior female character: Kaylee, for being adorable and for trying her hardest when she is forced into battle.

Day Nineteen: Favorite non-human female character: Ah-hah! Delenn! No, wait, she was half-human, at least after season 1... Bugger, I've got nothing. Don't tend to watch much of that kind of sci-fi.

Day Twenty: Favorite female antagonist: Drusilla. Sparklingly mad.

Day Twenty-One: Favorite female character screwed over by canon: Donna. Hate, hate, hate how she left the show.

Day Twenty-Two: Favorite female character you love but everyone else hates: Kochanski from Red Dwarf Season 7. I actually quite liked the new dynamic she brought to the group, but I know a lot of people were still mourning the loss of Rimmer.

Day Twenty-Three: Favorite female platonic relationship: Beckett and Alexis from Castle. I think it's neat that they've bonded on the basis of Alexis respecting Beckett's extreme competence and wanting to grow up to be like her. Plus it's fun watching how disconcerted it makes Castle.

Day Twenty-Four: Favorite female romantic relationship: Willow and Tara, hands down.

Day Twenty-Five: Favorite mother/daughter and/or sister relationship: Joyce Summers with Buffy. I love her because she's fallible and human. She's not an all-knowing mother figure, but an ordinary person, who happens to have a daughter and who sometimes, isn't very good at being the mum person. Mums in fiction are either good or bad - there's rarely a case of "naturally untalented, but trying really hard."

Day Twenty-Six: Favorite classical female character (from pre-20th century literature or mythology or the like): Andromeda from the Perseus mythos, but that's heavily, heavily biased by the fact that I've recently been reading Helbling's excellent take on it.

Day Twenty-Seven: A female character you have extensive personal canon for: Again, strangely because I hate the onscreen portrayal, Kennedy from BtVS. I wrote some fiction in Season 7 and ended up giving her more characterisation, almost by accident. I quite liked my one and like to pretend that my bits happened inbetween episodes.

Day Twenty-Eight: Favorite female writer: Jane Espenson, who not only wrote for a lot of the American shows which I like, but also had a very entertaining and informative blog on writing. Any writers out there, I'd recommend a scan through the archives, as you will learn a lot.

Day Twenty-Nine: A female-centric fic rec: Phoenix Burning by Yahtzee (no, not that one). An excellent Buffy story based upon her death in Season 5 being final and her getting resurrected 350 years later, as one of the five greatest slayers to fight the apocalypse. Great character exploration, dealing with Buffy trying to cope with being ripped away from all of her support networks and a brilliant story as well.

Day Thirty: Whatever you’d like!: What female character do you most look forward to seeing this year?: Dame Helen Mirren in the film adaptation of The Tempest as Prospera. The gender-switch is so perfect that I can't believe no-one's done it before.

I'm going to work now, I swear!

PJW

Reassessing the past

2011-03-03T22:26:00.000Z

I've been watching through Buffy the Vampire Slayer from start to finish and I've just reached season 4 tonight. Now, I've always been a big fan of Riley and I've always assumed that that stemmed from my iconoclasm and the fact that I identified a lot with him as a character who wanted to be a 'good guy'.

However, I haven't watched this season in a good few years. More to the point, I haven't watched this season since a long time before I started accepting that I might be bi.

Which brings the awkward question. Do I like Riley as a character because I empathise with someone trying to be honourable and a good guy? Or was I predisposed towards liking Riley because he's spectacularly hot?

It's taken a little bit of headwork to associate myself as bi. Society has spent a lot of time telling me that gay is wrong, even though I know in my head that that's a load of shit. And so I repressed it for quite a while. Every now and again, I get a little nudge from my past that makes me think about my repressed bi-ness and it's very startling to reassess whom I was at that point in my life with whom I know I am now.

Of course, this could be making no sense because I'm drunk. That's always a possibility.

PJW

Goodnight Dune

2011-03-02T20:51:00.000Z

What happens when an artist is bored and prompted with the suggestion of a mashup of Dune and Goodnight Moon.

PJW

I'm Polonius and so's my wife

2011-02-28T16:07:00.001Z

Bath Amateur Shakespeare Society is gaining momentum. We have a hall. We have a date (Saturday 19th March, 6.30pm - 8.00pm and fortnightly after that). We have a website. We have something approaching a plan for the first workshop.

I've done the "build it" part. Now all that's needed is for the general populace to do their half and attend.

I've spoken to the School of Music and Performing Arts at Bath Spa Uni, I've dropped an e-mail to the committee at Bath Uni Student Theatre, I've sent my minions to badger the local LARPers, I've reached out to the other Shakespeare Society in town (which is mostly a discussion society for retired people, so I'm fair certain I'm not treading on toes with my one), and I plan on getting in touch with the Bath Chronicle closer to the time. They printed an article about me growing a moustache (not kidding) before, so I'm fairly certain that this will count as news to them.

Anyone got any other suggestions for dragging up interest? I'm poor, so expense will be an issue, but other than that, I'm all ears.

PJW

Someone else saying what I'm thinking, but more eloquently than I could put it

2011-02-28T01:56:00.000Z

From Warren Ellis - professional author and writer of the webcomic FreakAngels (well worth investigating for those looking for a new webcomic fix. Excellent storywork).

How It Works

I still get asked with appalling regularity “where my ideas come from.”

Here’s the deal. I flood my poor ageing head with information. Any information. Lots of it. And I let it all slosh around in the back of my brain, in the part normal people use for remembering bills, thinking about sex and making appointments to wash the dishes.

Eventually, you get a critical mass of information. Datum 1 plugs into Datum 2 which connects to Datum 3 and Data 4 and 5 stick to it and you’ve got a chain reaction. A bunch of stuff knits together and lights up and you’ve got what’s called “an idea”.

And for that brief moment where it’s all flaring and welding together, you are Holy. You can’t be touched. Something impossible and brilliant has happened and suddenly you understand what it would be like if Einstein’s brain was placed into the body of a young tyrannosaur, stuffed full of amphetamines and suffused with Sex Radiation.

That is what has happened to me tonight. I am beaming Sex Rays across the world and my brain is all lit up with Holy Fire. If I felt like it, I could shag a million nuns and destroy their faith in Christ.

From my chair.

See, this is the good bit about writing. It’s what keeps you going. It’s the wild rush of “shit, did I think of that?” with all kinds of weird chemicals shunting around your brain and ideas and images and moments and storyforms all opening up snapsnapsnap in your mind, a mass of new and unrealised possibilities.

It’s ten past two in the morning, and I’m completely wired, caught up in the new thing, shivering and laughing and glowing in the dark. Just as well it’s the middle of the night. No-one would be safe from me right now. I could read their minds and take over their heartbeats with a glare.

Faster than the speed of anyone.

That’s how it works.

Currently performing major/minor surgery on my completed novel to make a section flow better and it's opened up a whole new vista of possibilities. I'm a bad editor - I'm supposed to be cutting the chaff, but I've added another thousand words already.

PJW

Dear Mr Fort

2011-02-27T12:08:00.000Z

I was very impressed by your ability to play the rules over our discussion on your blatantly offensive article on religious rights in prison, which referenced Paganism in a derisive and derogatory manner. I appreciate the skill with which you defended your position - not looking to win the argument yourself, but to prevent me from winning it decisively enough to gain a PCC decision. Well played.

However, I came across this article today and thought it might be useful as a reference resource. The BBC's website is often far from perfect, but this should be your template for how you present a minority religion in a news article:

Pagans are campaigning for druids and witches to declare their religious affiliation in next month's Census to gain greater recognition for the group.

The Pagan Federation says it wants the same recognition as other faiths.

Secularists say the optional question about what religion people are could lead to artificially large numbers identifying themselves as Christian.

That in turn could lead to an over-provision of faith schools, the British Humanist Association argues.

Jedi Knights

In the 2001 Census, more than 70% of people described themselves as Christian.

The Pagan Federation insists druids, wiccans, witches and other pagans constitute a serious and growing religious group.

Ten years ago 42,000 people declared themselves as Pagans - the seventh highest number for any UK religion - but some experts believe the true figure was nearer 250,000 - and is significantly higher now.

BBC Religious affairs correspondent Robert Pigott said the 42,000 figure was still only a fraction of those describing themselves as Jedi Knights.

Pagans do not worship one single god, but look for the spiritual in nature.

Some groups concentrate on specific traditions, practices or elements such as ecology, witchcraft, Celtic traditions or certain gods.

Wiccans, druids, shamans, sacred ecologists, odinists and heathens all make up parts of the Pagan community.

In October, the Charities Commission granted the Druid Network official status as a religion.

I'm surprised that, even in such a short article, the BBC found no room to mention unabashed sexuality and promiscuity, but I guess they wanted to focus on details about Paganism that were, you know, relevant and sensible. As opposed to ones which were not outright provable as a lie.

PJW

And, in less emo-tastic news

2011-02-26T22:00:00.000Z

I finished my novel yesterday. It's been very nearly exactly two years in the making and at 115,265 words, it's the longest thing I've ever written.

It's not perfect, and first thing to be done is a full sweep through and edit of the issues that I already know about, but it's a complete story. It has a beginning and a middle and an end (even if the end will frustrate those whom like closure, as it's book 1 of a series).

I have read books for longer than I can remember and the rush of being able to point to a fully-formed story and say, "I made that," is unbelievable. There are characters and overarching storylines and they all came from inside my head. It's incredible.

I'm hoping to get the main bulk of my first edit done tomorrow and Monday and then it might be fit for beta-reader consumption. So pleased with myself.

PJW

And, after the last post...

2011-02-25T19:02:00.000Z

While I'm moping around the kitchen, thinking about it, my WinAmp shuffle proves that it still has a sense of humour by randomly picking Electric 6 - Gay Bar as the first song.

Oh well. At least it proves I've still got a sense of humour as well.

PJW

Just done something stupid

2011-02-25T15:37:00.001Z

I went and looked up the person whose actions nearly destroyed my life when I was 17.

Every so often, I scan about for him on Facebook. I don't know why. I don't know what I hope has happened in his life. To wish him misery just seems horribly petty and certainly not in keeping with my Pagan beliefs, but an inner part of me wants some kind of karmic retribution for what he did. I don't even know what I would consider appropriate.

For those whom haven't heard this story, it was in the summer of 2000. I was young, stupid, trusting and mixed up with teenage hormones and I accepted a messenger request from a girl. She was friendly, open, encouraging and I talked to her about the inside of my head. Like I said - teenage boy. It was not PG, not even remotely sane and, with her encouragement, I spilled some of the sickest fantasies that were bubbling around my head at the time.

Of course, I ended up finding out that the girl wasn't actually a girl when print outs of the chat logs started circulating the sixth form common room. I don't know if he edited them, added bits, changed things or anything, as I didn't get to read them myself, but there was certainly enough real stuff in there to bury me socially, including my very first inklings that I might've been bisexual.

They were the conversation topic of the day for only a couple of days. They are on the list for the worst few days of my life. I escaped by the skin of my fingernails, mostly because my fellow denizens of the 6th form found them too outlandish to have come from my head. I thank all the gods for that; I literally don't know I could've survived a school environment where that stuff was out in public and was believed about me.

I was so unbelievably lucky that it still makes me shudder to think now and thinking about those few days makes me feel physically sick.

Anyway, he's never been on Facebook, as far as I've been able to find, so I've been left in a very comfortable ignorance. Today, I thought of looking on Friends Reunited and... there he was. He looks happy. He's getting married to his boyfriend and is in a job that he loves. Says that he remembers his time at secondary school fondly and would love to hear from any of his former classmates at his e-mail address provided.

I don't know how to cope with this, frankly. I shouldn't have looked. What did I hope to achieve from knowing what was going on in his life?

Looking back on it, as an adult, I can see how it happened. Neither he nor I were popular and the packs of hyenas in our form took to both of us when they felt like it. And, like the shallow, vapid boys we were, we sniped at each other when the opportunity arose, looking to score points with the crowd and make ourselves feel better about our position on the social ladder. I'm not proud of some of my behaviour and, frankly, I'd smack 17 year old Peter silly if I ever got to spend time with him.

It was a prank and my gullibility left the door open for him to act the big man, push himself off the bottom rung by being the source of this fantastic piece of gossip. I've no doubt that I probably did something petty to provoke it as well. And once the paper left his hands, it went very out of control.

Logical, adult me understands this. But inside, I'm still broken and I want to hit him. Or talk to him. Or something, I don't know. His e-mail address is right there, but what the hell would I say? "Hi, you remember the time you nearly ruined my life, how you doing?"

Added to that is my embarassment. I was young, very kinky and frustrated and I revealed a lot of things. He knows more about my libido than some ex-girlfriends do. I feel stupid and shamed and gullible.

In my heart, I don't want him to be miserable. Cause that would be bad and wrong and malicious and I'd like to hope that he feels bad about the stupid thing he did as a boy. But... now I know he's out there and... fuck. I don't know what I'm saying.

Fuck.

PJW

Presented (almost) without comment

2011-02-24T22:28:00.003Z

What the fuck?!?

PJW

ETA. This is real. This is a really real product that you can genuinely buy... assuming you would ever want to.

I did it

2011-02-23T00:52:00.000Z

I hit my targets. All of them.

It won't be a 100% confirmed until the start of next month, as they could still fail me on attitude, work ethic or compliance issues (no chance), but I hit all the targets. Barring anything major, I graduate from the academy at the start of next month.

I actually don't know what to do with myself.

PJW

Alcohol

2011-02-18T01:04:00.001Z

Sometimes my fast metabolism is rather annoying. 4 bottles of beer and 1 bottle of wine and I'm still not incapacitated?

Fuming.

PJW

Black Swan

2011-02-17T00:24:00.000Z

Black Swan is a truly, utterly horrifying film. It made me want to curl up into a ball in the aisle.

But in a good way.

For those whom haven't seen any synopses, the film focuses on a young ballerina, Nina, promoted to her first big role as the Swan Queen in Swan Lake. The role requires playing two characters: the virginal, fearful and tremulous white swan, and the sexual, sensual black swan, who steals away the whtie swan's prince and hope of redemption and leaves her to her death.

Nina is technically perfect and has no problem playing the white swan. However, she's too perfect for the black swan and can't let go, lose herself in the part and make people believe. The story follows the unravelling of her psyche, as she searches for her black swan, slowly losing her mind to doppelgangers, bloody hallucinations and paranoia.

The film is enthralling, because it's mostly first person and you see the madness build from Nina's perspective. It starts with hints, little flashes, a movement in a painting so quick that you're not sure whether you even saw it or whether you're imagining things as well. Well after the end of the film, Caroline and I are still discussing which bits of it actually happened.

It draws you in, with superb music and lighting leading you headfirst into an encircling madness. It felt like a nightmare, to the level where I wanted to wake up and actually shook myself out of the film because I wanted to remind myself that I wasn't in Nina's head.

The effect was aided by Natalie Portman playing Nina. She was frankly brilliant and deserves every award that can be thrown at her for that performance.

In short, horrifying, chilling, utterly terrifying, wonderful value for money and a true work of art.

Oh, and there's a sex scene or two in there if you're interested in that kind of thing.

PJW

Olympic Dreams

2011-02-15T19:42:00.000Z

No, I'm not talking about Emma's novel, but about the possibility of a group day trip to go and see some of the Olympics when they come around. I've just got the prices through and it's entirely possible to get a day of sport from £20 each, depending on what you want to see.

I'm sorely tempted, if only for the fact that it's a wonderful opportunity that's unlikely to come around again for a good long time. And I'd love to see the end result of something which I've followed right from the nascent suggestions of bidding for the right to host.

Would anyone else be interested? If you are, please comment on the main blog, not on the LJ or Facebook feeds, so I can keep it all together.

PJW

Lies, damned lies and technically-not-quite-complete-falsehoods

2011-02-10T19:59:00.001Z

Oh, and in other news, the Press Complaint Commission have rejected my claim that the Metro broke their code of conduct.

This is annoying. However, I can understand how they've come to this decision. I claimed breaches on the grounds of inaccuracy and discrimination and, while the article was grossly insulting and took ridiculous liberties with the truth in a lot of places, every stupid thing they said held just enough of a grain of truth for it to be impossible to declare it an outright lie and, unfortunately, that's the standard required to prove inaccuracy. A newspaper is allowed to be bigoted, biased, prejudiced and to outright misrepresent the truth if they choose, as long as they aren't telling a complete and verifiable falsehood, something which I was unable to prove.

On discrimination, the PCC code declares that discrimination can only apply to a prejudicial comment about a specific person's religion, rather than to a religious group. They stated that they, "do not address issues of taste and offence," as it could impinge on the right of free expression and, as the article did not refer in a discriminatory fashion to any person and did not make any verifiable falsehoods, there was no breach of the code.

I'm annoyed, but I guess I can understand the decision. It's more annoying that Mr Fort obviously played the technicalities as soon as the complaint came in and I wasn't able to place my case in such a way as would avoid them. Apparently, he has contacted the PCC following the decision and told them that he was planning on circulating a memo amongst his editorial staff about the issues I'd raised anyway, so I guess that's something, but, on the whole, I think I would've preferred being publically vindicated.

PJW

Small amounts of stress

2011-02-10T19:38:00.000Z

Today began with not being able to remember a single thing about yesterday, which is always a good sign.

Yesterday, I was thriving on 3 hours sleep, an incubating illness and overwork and still ended up doing a 12 hour day. It wasn't particularly good for me and ended abruptly when I turned up at my best friend's house for socialising and she took one look at me and ordered me home to bed. God only knows how I drove. I suspect it would probably have been safer to let a drunkard behind the wheel, but there's no marks on the car so I assume I didn't hit anything.

So, I got into work and discovered that, despite not being compos mentis enough to remember yesterday, I'd apparently done a reasonable job. I'd recommended two mortgages to customers and they'd both sounded keen. Mr A was due to apply at 9am and Mr B was due to apply at 5.15pm. All well and good.

I tried phoning Mr A at 9am. No response. I checked my e-mails and discovered that he'd sent me an apology that he'd been called into a meeting and that we'd have to rearrange for Friday. No problem there, so I started finding more clients. I quickly came across Mrs C, who needed a mortgage, wanted to the fruits of my research tout suit and I arranged an appointment with her for 3.30pm that day to present my findings.

I started researching Mrs C's options, which were based on very similar requirements to Mr B and expected to come back with the same deal. Problem was, that deal wasn't on the system any more. A quick look revealed that the deal Mr B was applying for at 5.15pm had been pulled by Natwest last night and replaced with a more expensive one. Oh goodie.

So, I then had to have hte fun phone call of phoning Mr B and confirming that he couldn't have the interest rate he'd just said yes to and convincing him that he wanted one that was 0.3% more expensive. I love delivering joyous news and, by the sounds of it, Mr B loved receiving it as well. He was a decent bloke though and, while peeved, didn't blame me. We reaffirmed that we'd speak at 5.15pm to apply and I went away, happy that that was another application in the bag.

This was when all hell broke loose. Skipton decided that what was good enough for Natwest was good enough for them and promptly announced that their rates would be withdrawn at 5pm sharp. No problem, thought I, I'll just see if I have any customers to whom I've recommended Skipt... oh.

Mr A was going to go on Skipton. Because of his meetings, I wasn't going to be speaking to him until tomorrow. Bugger. I looked at some of the alternative deals of a similar price: Abbey (withdrawn 10/02/2011), Nationwide - (withdrawn 10/02/2011), Principality (withdrawn 10/02/2011), Coventry (withdrawn 10/02/2011).

Yep, despite this being a day where the Bank of England announced no interest rate rises this month, practically every bloody lender decided that the thing to do was to raise their mortgage rates. Lovely.

Cue a bombardment of e-mail, text messages, voicemails and carrier pigeons to alert Mr A that, if he wanted this rate, he had to go fast. I got an e-mail back, saying that he was stuck in meetings, but would try and carve time out of his day to apply. I ring again at 3pm, telling his voicemail that it's practically deadline now - the Skipton application will require 15 minutes for me to take his details, half an hour before a member of the applications processing team can look at it and 45 minutes to submit the bloody thing (not allowing for the inevitable systems crashes of deadline day). No response and I reluctantly give up on Mr A, setting a note in my diary to call him tomorrow and requote once the dust has settled.

By this point, I'm running out of time to research Mrs C's case and scramble through a recommendation before realising that the best deal is Nationwide - the same Nationwide whom are pulling their products today. I ring Mrs C, but I can't get through. By the time, I do get through at past 4.00pm, it's Mr C who answers, as Mrs C has gone to work. He has *no* idea what we've been talking about or what the situation is. I explain the deal and the fact that, if he wants it, he has to want it now or it'll be worse tomorrow. He agrees, but hasn't got time to talkjust yet, as the kids' dinners need to go on. I agree to phone in 20 minutes.

At 4.20pm, my phone rings. It's Mr A. He sounds calm, so I couldn't possibly have given the right level of urgency in my voicemails. I ask him to hold and query with the experts as to whether there's anyone on the applications team free to do it right now, if I can get his details down in double-quick time. The question is greeted with hysterical laughter of the, "Are you fucking kidding me?!" variety.

I look at my watch, look at the deadline and make a stupid decision.

"Yes, Mr A, we can possibly get your application in. But I'm going to have to do it myself and we're going to need to have it finished in under... 38 minutes. Shall we?"

The flaws in that plan were legion. Skipton's website is awfully designed. Their application process is long and convoluted and people who know what they're doing require 30 minutes minimum, with all the details in front of them. I was attempting to set a decent speed record on a system I didn't know, dragging my information out of a customer live, on a shit website that was currently being strained far beyond design limits by thousands of other stupid berks trying to do the same thing at the same time.

The next 36 minutes were filled with flailing, running around the office, trying to find someone who could answer my question, swearing loudly and alternating between dire imprecations and desperate cajoling whenever the Skipton website decided to crash under the pressure. I completed with 2 minutes to spare, spent 5 seconds congratulating myself and then pressed the "Submit" button.

It refused to submit.

I tried again. And again. And again. No submission possible. No reason. No suggestion of what was missing. No help. Just a "No."

"You've missed something out somewhere. Try and guess what."

In desperation, I sprinted to my pet expert, dragged her out of her seat and begged her to make it go. She did. It submitted. With 8 seconds left on the clock before 5pm.

Exhausted, I thanked her, got thanks from the customer and sat down in my seat to relax. Only to panic when I realised that I'd told Mr C that I would phone him back in 20 minutes well over 40 minutes ago.

I phone Mr C and apologise. Thankfully he's not annoyed and I run through the form for the Nationwide deal, which thankfully isn't being removed until 8pm tonight. Unfortunately, it's Mrs C who mostly deals with mortgage stuff and everything has to be looked up and double-checked. Mr C is very thorough. Normally, this is a virtue. When I've got twenty-dozen other pans on the hob, it's not. I finish with Mr C at 5.45pm and am immediately thrust into an incoming phone call from a Mrs D, who needs answers now so that she can make a decision on a property that she's buying. While she's on the phone, I get an e-mail announcing that another lender is withdrawing their rates tomorrow, which I need to make a note of, as it will mean that I need to contact Miss E and Mrs F, whom I was supposed to be talking to on Monday, but whom I'll have to repeat this performance with tomorrow.

Mrs D gets off the phone and I look at my watch. 6.15pm and I need to run out the door if I'm going to catch a lift home with my wife. I don't really need a lift home, but she's out tonight and if I don't come home with her, then I don't get to see her. And she can't be late, so I have to go.

There's a new e-mail in my inbox though. Who's that from? Mr B? Is that one of my cus... oh yes, I remember Mr B. He was the Natwest customer to whom I had to give the bad news... and whom I was supposed to be talking to. An hour ago.

Shit.

Mr B is not pleased with me. This is very understandable. I have sent him a grovelling e-mail, offering to rearrange my day to find a time to suit him tomorrow, and will have to wait until tomorrow to see if he accepts my apology.

I run out of the door to find Caroline waiting for me in the car and leap in to get my lift. Unfortunately, the whole spending time together is slightly overrun by me talking and talking and talking, pretty much about this. Thus, by the time I stop talking about my day, pause for breath and turn to have an actual conversation with her, we've arrived home and she needs to dash off to her evening out. Thankfully, she's an understanding wife.

I'm going to go lie down now.

PJW

Small margins

2011-02-05T21:01:00.000Z

Some days in rugby, you hand your opposite number a lesson and show off your full repertoire of tricks. Other days, you are the one being taught a lesson and you're using every trick you know just to try and even the score.

Today was one of the latter. My opposite number was a dirty, cheating, horrible, gnarled, cheating bastard and I'd like lessons please. At one point, he managed to cheat so successfully as to free an arm in the scrum and put his hand across my eyes (while both of mine were busy doing what I was supposed to) so that I couldn't see where the ball was. It's been several hours and I still don't know exactly what I could've done to counter that. Except break my bind and give him a surreptitious punch in the face, of course, but I really don't like doing that.

The scrum in rugby is a weird and wonderful place, especially the front row. Two rows of three players, going head to head, shoving against each other, with a myriad of cheats, nudges and occasional violence, mostly going on without the ref having a clue that anything's happened.

In quite a bit of pain tonight, both physical and emotional. To rub salt into the wound of my personal defeat, we lost the game by three points, when they scored in the last move of the match after we'd led pretty much the whole game. From 3-5 to 8-5 in the last damn moment of the game. Not a disrespectable score in an away game against a side chasing promotion, but we were so goddamn close. And I can't help but feel that, although I wasn't the reason we lost, if I'd been just a little bit better, it could've made the difference.

PJW

The invisible man

2011-02-03T00:48:00.002Z

I'm a little bit reticent about talking about work customers on here. At my old job, it was utterly irrelevant - they were a random shopper at a random Monde Des Ordinateurs shop and the chances of them remembering me were risible. After all, I was wearing a uniform.

NewJob, on the other hand, is all about building relationships with clients and making sure that they're buying into my service, rather than just seeing me as a faceless mortgage peon. This means that there's a non-zero chance that they might see me on the internet and, more to the point, a non-zero chance that they may see if I say something impolitic about them on the internet. Most personal issues are relative and, if it came down to a complaint about something I've said which I cannot 100% back up, then I might be in quite a bit of trouble.

However, today I've got something that I'm fairly certain I can happily stand behind.

I talked to this guy about a mortgage in December and told him that, since he was on his lender's standard variable rate, he might want to think about getting a new mortgage deal that had a fixed interest rate. "The offers are the best you'll see," I said. "And they're likely to go up in the new year."

"No, no," said the customer. "I think I will try my luck and stay on the variable rate for a time longer. There will be time to go onto a fixed later."

"Okay," replied I. "How about life assurance? You have a particular need for a policy and look! Here I have just the thing to fit this need."

"That sounds very nice," says the customer. "I shall apply in the new year."

So, we set a date and I recontacted him in the new year and I took down what details I needed. These included his direct debit details, so I had reason to believe that he was in earnest. Life assurance requires you to have a phone call with a third party underwriting team, which is half an hour of being interrogated about your medical history in order that the insurer can decide a final premium for you. It's the main step before getting a policy and, in a lot of cases, is as difficult as an application can get. Just half an hour on the phone.

We booked an appointment for this underwriting phone call and I thought that that was pretty much that.

The appointment time came and the appointment time went and I realised that I had not received notification that the underwriting call had been successful. Upon research it appeared that they hadn't been able to get through. "No problem," I said, and simply set about contacting the customer to find another appointment.

This was at the start of January. I rang and couldn't get through. I rang again at a more convenient (for him, not for me) time. There was no answer.

"He must be busy," I though and left a polite voicemail, asking him to call me back. When a couple of days passed and there was no response, I rang again, left another voicemail and sent a text message for good measure. No response.

I waited another day or too and then I tried ringing again. I sent an e-mail. I tried ringing in the morning. I tried ringing in the evening. I tried ringing at weekends. I tried every method possible to get in contact with the bloke. He didn't pick up once. Not once. Nor did he return a call, reply to an e-mail or respond to a text. I joked that for all I knew he had died and really should've taken the call about life assurance first. In the back of my mind, I half wondered whether he had. No answer. No response.

At the end of this month, I gave up. I tried ringing once more, left a voicemail and sent one final e-mail telling him that the third party underwriters were planning on cancelling his quote, due to non-contact and that, if he was still interested, to ring me.

Today, I received an e-mail from the third party underwriters telling me that they had given him one last phone call themselves and this time someone had answered. Apparently there was ire, accusations of "borderline harrassment" and implications that I had been rude and pushy.

Would you just excuse the fuck out of me?

I was led to believe that you wanted a particular product, to the extent that you gave me bank details, agreed a time to complete the application, said, "Yes, thank you, that sounds good." I'm sorry for getting the wrong end of the stick here, but I got the impression that you were interested. I'm very sorry; don't quite know how that happened.

And then you disappear off the face of the earth. Not a single bit of contact. And I'm being rude by chasing?

Seriously?

What stopped you from telling me? What kind of coward listens to the phone ring and doesn't answer? You're not a 90 year old granddad or a 16 year old stripling - you're a guy in his thirties, in full-time employment, with kids. What stopped you answering the phone and telling me that you didn't want the product? Even if you didn't want to say no on the phone, what on earth stopped you from replying to an e-mail or a text? I'm assuming you don't want the product, by the way, because YOU STILL HAVEN'T ACTUALLY TOLD ME!

What is wrong with you? You're a grown man, yet apparently you deal with problems by ignoring them? And I'm the one who's out of order when I find that strange?

I have no problem whatsoever if you decide that you don't want the product. I reserve the right to think you're wrong, but if you don't want something, then that's absolutely fine. Completely acceptable behaviour and entirely your perogative. What I can't understand is in what universe you thought it would be sensible, appropriate or polite to simply ignore me until I went away.

PJW

Anyone know of a hall for hire?

2011-01-28T19:18:00.000Z

I've hit 20, three days early and I'm feeling superproductive. Now I'm onto making this Shakespeare thing work.

I spoke to the nice lady at the local theatre company and she was helpful and offered very sensible advice, while trying to keep my hopes down. There's a bit of scattered occasional Shakespeare from a few different companies in Bath, as well as a professional company in Bristol that I didn't know about.

I'm going to try something small-scale at first: Hire a hall on a Saturday evening, stick out my flag and see if people are willing to turn up for reading and performing amongst ourselves. If I can get 10-15 people turning up on a fortnightly basis, then maybe we can see if there's enough interest to build up into a full-on production. The local theatre will hire out to us for around £500 for a three day run, of which I could probably get £200 in sponsorship from my work's "good deeds fund" and I reckon there's other sponsorship out there which could be got. Even if no-one turned up, we could probably break even, if we had minimalist set and costuming.

Cart, before horse. Let's see whether anyone turns up for a reading and performing society first. First step, find a hall that will hire itself out as a location. Anyone know of any? I've heard Bath Uni suggested, as well as a church hall in Widcombe that has been swiftly rejected for having this highly scary article on its front page.

PJW