I don’t get it with these dodgy geezers than run off with teenage girls. (Actually, it would probably be more worrying if I did get it!). Why do they always head for Scotland? Granted, Scotland has large areas of sparsely inhabited countryside, and you’d think that would make a great place to hide, but the reality is that anyone that is out of the ordinary sticks out like a sore thumb. You’d probably be better off hiding in Birmingham or London or some other place where nobody talks to their neighbours, and where "unusual" relationships are more tolerated and more commonplace.

Charles Bronson, RIP.

Not sure that this Grauniad article tells us anything much that we didn’t know already. I seem to recall the BBC’s Andrew Marr saying on television and radio, as well as in his newspaper articles, and on more than one occasion as early as the Labour conference last year, that he had the distinct impression (meaning, I suspect, that Campbell had told him so) that Alastair Campbell would step down at the end of 2003 at the latest, simply because he was fed up with the job. It may be just my memory playing tricks, but I’m sure that’s the case. The article lends yet another "my friend Alastair" angle, but overall I’m underwhelmed.

I’m dead chuffed. Sarah and Paul have asked me to be one of the two ushers at their wedding. That’s brilliant - made my day!

Bomb Bandits.

Beer with Nicky and Claire, with sightings of Gary and Jeff. Stood up by Paul F.

I’ve decided that frizzyLogic should be in my list of websites to visit regularly.

I was told earlier this evening that I need to be careful that people might be intimidated by the new globe-trotting businessman that is Graybo. I’m not sure that this is fair or true - I think that the true me is still here for all to see and experience and share. But I have changed in the last six months, for sure. For the better, I think, too. Dunno.

Today’s objectives:

• Run errands at bank and elsewhere.
• Submit planning application for new windows.
• Pack bags for trip to the Netherlands via Cheshire.
• Have lunch.
• Travel to Cheshire.

Expect reduced content provision for the rest of the week.

We’re all going to DIE!!

Peter West, RIP.

Written yesterday:

A less-than-busy Virgin train allows me to upgrade my seat from the non-table seat reserved for me to a tabled seat, complete with power point for powering my laptop without draining the battery. How handy! Now I can give you a running commentary on my journey! (Of course, I should really be working, although I have written a variety strategy report and we’ve not even reached Oxford yet).
The Oxfordshire scenery is looking rather beautiful, if also rather dry. The grass is closer to yellow than green on the hills as we pass by. I much prefer sitting on a train to driving, as there is so much more opportunity to look at things, like the absolutely fabulous range of barns we just passed near Closey, with tilehung sides and large old wooden doors - beautiful.
The journey up from Chichester to Reading was uneventful, with only a bloke who went to the door of the train at every station for two hurried puffs on a Marlboro Light, much to the amusement of his friend. At Reading, a pair of teenage American lacrosse players got on the train. One immediately realised that she had left her jacket on another platform. She asked me when the train left, and I suggested that she asked the guard to hold the train whilst she went and found it, but in the end she was back on board before the train moved off. Her travelmate bears an almost shocking resemblance to Penn, only younger. At first, I even thought that it was her, as Penn lives just outside of Reading and could feasibly be catching a train there. But unless she has suddenly started dyeing her hair auburn and taken to speaking with an American accent, then this girl is doing a fairly lousy impression.
Two rows behind me, i.e. the row behind the one I should have sat in, a child is playing with some toys whilst his father (or maybe grandfather or uncle - hard to tell) dozes next to him. It sounds like a lot of people are getting hurt and blown up in his imagination, and there seem to be plenty of car crashes. I guess it says a lot about me that, as a child, one of my favourite toys was a Britains combine harvester with which I would "harvest" the circular straw coloured rug that may parents had on the living room floor.
Two people have sat next to me and are conversing in rapid sign language and working on a series of forms and business documents. It’s hard to imagine how much of a hindrance profound deafness must be to everyday life, let alone holding down any sort of job that requires interaction with others. And I can’t even speak another spoken language, let alone sign language.
I could really use my bag of sweets right now, but their packed in my computer bag, and I can’t get to it without disturbing people. I’m usually better prepared than that when getting onto a train or plane. Bah. I may have to go for a contrived loo break to get to them, although the coffee I had at Reading is making the contrived nature of such a break less necessary by the minute.
OK, loo break achieved. Spiral notepad with important meeting notes that I need to convert into strategy reports - retrieved. And, mst importantly, bag of wine pastilles retrieved and disappearing fast.
The train has just left Banbury. As you leave the station, on the right are several industrial units. One of those is clearly the home of a manufacturer of golf buggies. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many golf buggies parked together in one place in my life!
Just passed a huge patch of yellow toadflax just a few hundred yards north of Leamington Spa station. It’s a plant that seems to grow well on railway embankments, clearly enjoying the free draining nature of the ballast tat forms the trackbed. It’s a plant that I often see growing along Centurion Way, the cycle route that follows the course of the old railway line from Chichester to West Dean. I’ll walk up there soon and see if I can get a photo for you.
Right - we’re heading into Birmingham, and I’m pooped. Time to switch this thing off and maybe have a short rest. Travel is tiring.

Well, Holmes Chapel is the back end of beyond. Not only that, but the back end of beyond in a power cut. But the Swan Inn is friendly, and I think I’ll stay there next time I come to the area, not least because it is right next door to the station. Instead, I’m in a TravelLodge. Top tips for TravelLodge guests - get the disabled room. It is at least 25% bigger. Secondly, don’t eat in the Little Chef. The food is lousy. But it is reasonably priced and is comfortable.
But there is no phone point in the rooms, so I can’t update from here. Gah! Or check my mail. Oh well, I’ll have to do that when I get to Holland.

And, apparently, Ian is back. Yay!

Written today:

Hmm. Well, a very fruitful day at the trade show. I’m pretty tired after wandering around it all day, but I made some good new contacts and renewed a few existing ones. And a good bit of advice from a friend in America proved invaluable today too.
Anyway, I left the show with plenty of time to get to Liverpool John Lennon Airport. My very friendly taxi driver got me to Winsford railway station with plenty of time in hand (I can safely recommend Lawton’s Cars). However, my train was twenty minutes late. No worries, thinks I, as I have plenty of time in hand. Upon disembarking at Runcorn, now nearly 30 minutes late, I looked around the station for signs of the promised shuttle bus to the airport (it says so on the RailAir website or somewhere, I’m sure). No sign at all. Why? Because it doesn’t exist. But a very helpful chap at the station said "Don’t worry, go outside and get an 82A. That’ll take you there, and there is one in ten minutes." Sure enough, just a couple of minutes late, an 82A hoved into view.
I was then treated to the most tortuous journey through the less than salubrious areas of Widnes and Speke. I can safely say that Widnes is less than wonderful but not too bad. But Speke is unspeakable. I was worried at every bus stop that a bunch of kids would run out from the nearest boarded-up home and leave the bus propped up on a pile of bricks!
Anyway, in spite of all these delays, I got to the airport with time in hand. Thank goodness I didn’t go for plan B, which I had seriously considered, which was to cut it fine and spend an extra hour at the show. Thankfully, my instincts for not cutting it fine where travel plans are concerned kicked in, and I made it ok.
Liverpool John Lennon Airport has that half-built feel to it. Not quite as bad as some of the worst excesses of Spanish and Canaries airports (I remember the airport on the south side of the Canaries [what was it called?] that was more plasterboard and duct tape than concrete and brick), but still half built. And do any airlines other than EasyJet operate from here? I’ve not seen any evidence of them yet. There can’t be more than two hundred people in this big modern terminal, and a third of them are staff.
Most amusing was the guy who just ambled through security as I was repacking my pockets, wearing a yellow jacket with a hand-wirtten note on the back - "If found, my name is XXXX and my address is XXXX". Amazing. As the guy on the security desk said, somewhat reminiscent of Paddington Bear!
Right, time to finish this pint and get ready for boarding. Let’s just hope that Mike has booked us into a hotel with a phone point in the room, or else you poor souls are going to be deluged with a huge amount of reading on saturday night (or Sunday morning if I decide to go straight to the pub)!

"Slagroom" is the Dutch for "whipped cream". That may say a lot about the Dutch. Or my mind.

Very busy today with meetings, travel and amusing phone calls, followed by dinner and drinks at the hotel. Time for rest before a repeat performance tomorrow.

For the second night in a row, I’ve hard a bizarre dream in which Sarah has featured prominently. In the first, she was expecting twins (that’ll terrify her!), and I had to help Paul get her to the hospital in a hurry. After various strange adventures, mainly involving stairwells, we got there and she became the mother of a boy and a girl. In the second dream, she and Paul (sans offspring this time) were seeking to buy a cottage in a small village in East Sussex, and I happened to live in the area. I was helping the villagers redesign the layout of the village car park, and also had a (slightly madcap) project to convert the village postbox into a shrine or tribute to Mick Jagger.
No, I don’t know either. It may be all the rich food, long hours and glasses of red wine.

Typed at the airport…

Back at Schiphol once again. Yesterday was a very long day again, with some meetings that were far more useful than I imagined they would be. I’d imagined that, on this trip, I’d be seeing potential propagator and marketer licensees, which I did, but I also seem to have found a new product source (yay!) and a route to the Japanese market (double yay!).
Hmm. There is an aircraft outside with "DutchBird" written down the side in large letters. Makes me think of Marcia.
Today, we travelled miles and miles to see a nursery, although it was well worth the trip and very good fun. Particularly entertaining was taking a detour due to a road closure, and assisting our Dutch host, Simon, with navigation on roads that none of us had ever travelled before, ignoring his rather vocal onboard satellite navigation system ("turn back now!&quot, but in Dutch) and working against a very tight time limit (although our flight is delayed by 45 minutes).
Last night we went for dinner with our host for the day, Henny, in Noordwijk. Before doing so, we went for a long a leisurely stroll along the beach. There were many other people enjoying a stroll and the view of the setting sun. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a beach with so many striped shells. I took some photos, and I’ll post them here as soon as I can.
One thing is for sure - I’ve put on weight during this trip, and I think I’ll have to force myself to get back into the walking regime again. We’ve lived well here, and, coupled with my greasy diet whilst in Cheshire, I reckon I’ve added a fair few pounds that I could do well without.
Once again, my telephone has decided not to work correctly. I need to figure out why it isn’t working. I think it may be to do with having the "active diverts", whatever they are, switched on. This means that it works fine on O2 at home, O2 NL here, but not NL KPN. I need to find out why, and if I can fix it, as I don’t want the same problem on my upcoming trips to Germany and France.
Update: I’ve just forced my phone to use O2 NL instead of of KPN, so it now works. However, in the course of doing so, I seem to have switched off my answerphone service and can’t switch it on unless I know what number the incoming answering service calls should go to. Oh well, I can check the O2 website tomorrow and fix that.
Flight update: now delayed by an hour. This is traumatic, as it is eating into my beer time, which will probably be with Ian tonight now that he is back in the UK. I wonder how he is readjusting to life that doesn’t involve travelling. And, for that matter, getting used to life with his old friends. Times have changed, and things have moved on - it’s not the same place or same group of people as he left a year ago. But he’s a resourceful and adaptable person, so I’m sure that it will not be too much of a challenge.
Oh well, delay here means more Dutch beer. Although I’ve yet to find a Dutch beer that I really like.
What else have I seen over the last few days that was of note? Not a huge amount that would be interest of you, apart from the huge wooden eagle with spread wings in the hotel (all very reminiscent of Nazi Germany more than the Netherlands). There was the fleeting glimpse of Amsterdam from the train window (didn’t reveal much). There’s been Mike’s crash course in Dutch (I just plead ignorance and speak English - yeh, yeh, yeh, I know. So much for supporting less-widely spoken languages).
Last time I was in this airport, they played some Groove Armada and other bits and pieces that I recognised from my CD collection. I’ve just heard another song from my collection - took me a moment to figure it out over the ambient noise - Beverly Craven. Best not to say much more about that, I guess.
And indoor sparrows in the airport? I suppose that is the Dutch equivalent of Tube pigeons?
Right, not much more to say here, so I’m going to sit and read until the plane gets here (don’t think I said that I’d finished Haruki Murakami’s South of the Border, West of the Sun and have now started on alain de Botton’s The Art of Travel - must update that sidebar!) and listen to some mp3s on the laptop.

Beer tonight with Ian, Sacha, Paul F, Fi, Jools, Kearn, Matt, Hamish, DA, Sarah, Tam, Jeremy and countless others. Pooped.

Film. Window Media. Big download. Worth it.

Cyborg Heifers From Outer Space.

Pure class.

Remember this post? I copied it as an email to the Chichester Observer, who have printed it on their letters page. You can call me Angry of Chichester.

I am trying to deal with some negative emotions at the moment. I think they may be being exacerbated by tiredness. But I don’t know how to put them into words that effectively convey what I’m feeling, so I can’t share those feelings with friends or readers of this site. I could use a little help.
As usual, though, I’ll be ok.

Tom on weblogs and the mass amateurisation of nearly everything. Interesting.
The article set me thinking about the development of plant breeders’ rights, and whether that is also being amateurised. Ten years ago, European-wide plant breeders’ rights did not exist. Then the Community Plant Varieties Office was set up by the EU to offer a single European-wide rights system to supplement and, at times, replace, the individual national schemes that existed at the time (and largely still exist), and to support the international aims of the UPOV organisation to offer financial reward to those people that work hard to improve the quality and variety of plants available to us. Initially, all these schemes were intended to improve agricultural crops, and were supported by the breeders, from huge multinationals down to research labs in universities and private individuals.
Then, horticulturalists realised, in considerable numbers, that they could make mponey from their own breeding efforts. They weren’t the first, of course. Companies like Blooms of Bressingham had been using the plant variety rights system in the UK since the early 80s. Rose growers had been using it for even longer. But now there was a simple, enforcable and European-wide system that addressed the problem of needing to take out PVR protection in every country individually. Now, by taking EU PVRs, US Plant Patent and possibly Japanese PVRs, you could effectively wrap up the major markets.
Thankfuly, the system is still sufficiently complicated and expensive that nearly all breeders prefer to work through an agent to tackle the system. But agents need to provide add-on services in order to ensure that a new variety is promoted effectively and in a coordinated fashion throughout the world. Their market knowledge allows them to provide a management service that should be better than any individual (and most organisations) could hope to achieve. There has been a recent example with an organisation based in the US that has introduced a large range of Heuchera varieties. Certainly they have made a large amount of money from them, but they have also wrecked the future market for them by not managing their introduction, licensing and distribution correctly. If the entire introduction process had been managed by a dispassionate agent, I think the overall result would be more pleasing. interestingly, the breeder has asked me to represent his material informally, but not on an exclusive basis. Without the control that comes with exclusive management, I don’t really want to know.
Unfortunately, at the moment, most breeders’ agents are not offering as good a service as they could or should. Invariably, they are tied into a small system of relationships that have arisen through either formal or informal means. Consequently, the breeder does not always obtain the best deal for their plant, and royalty returns are not what they should be. This does nothing to encourage breeders to work with an agent, and ultimately, it is only lack of time and resources that drives some organisational breeders to work with agents rather than do it themselves.
This is where PFE’s independence comes into its own, as it allows me to act with whoever I feel will give the best deal for an individual variety. A marked contrast to the Blooms system. But it is up to me to convey that advantage to potential breeder clients, and persuade them that to work through PFE will be more effective than to try and work on their own. That’s the hard part.
Coupled to that is an increasing awareness of the PVR systems. There have been articles by several authors recently in magazines, journals and even on television. Small-scale breeders are becoming less frightened of the system and are beginning to feel that they may be able to tackle it on their own account. But a little knowledge is a dangerous thing! Our American friend with his Heucheras has demonstrated that - his lack of intimate knowledge of the European market is, ultimately, leading to disaster.
So what has this got to do with Tom’s piece about the amateurisation of weblogs? Well, I think that to counter the spread of weblogs, the traditional media and publishing systems must both provide additional expertise and services that the individual and small organisation can not possibly provide, and offer economies of time and scale that larger organisations would wish to buy in to. Not only for providers of content, but also for customers. Publishers must provide effective channels for distributing the output of authors to the best audience. Readers will need an effective information gathering service that is authoritative and independent, and sources of entertainment that fit well with increasingly time-poor lifestyles.
Of course, as this process continues, more companies and organisations will see an opportunity to provide these services, perhaps as an add-on to their existing business. The Sun has launched a blog. The Grauniad has done it for a while. AOL offers blogging systems to members. In the PVR industry, ten years ago there were two or three companies offering agency services. Now, I estimate that there are around 25 or 30, with several that have started in the last two years. I’m certain that there are others in early stages of development of which I am yet to become aware.
Is mass amateurisation a good thing? Well, I’m not sure that there is "good" or "bad" about it. It’s more just a process of change, something that has been going on for years. Personally, I suspect that time pressures will mean that whilst "amateurised" systems will become more widely available, both in terms of the number of people that can access them, and the number of services, products and skills that are covered by such systems, most people will not adopt them. The day simply isn’t long enough.

Blimey. There have been some big wordy posts here lately. You’d almost think that this was becoming a serious site!

New(ish) Weebl. Fabulous.

Sussex beat Middlesex by seven wickets and edge towards winning the County Championship for the first time - not a great record for what is the oldest first-class club in the country.

From my email inbox, an important message from the eternally lovely Lizzie:

After apPhenomenally successful run at this years Edinburgh Fringe Festival I’m taking my show "Lizzie Roper Through My Keyhole" for one night only to The Soho Theatre, 21 Dean Street, London W1
Join Me!
Come and see what all the fuss was about!
Friday 26th September at 8pm £8/£6
020 7478 0100 (24 hrs)
020 7478 0151
If you’ve already seen it, come and see it again!
or tell your friends… go on forward this email now
but what ever you do book now, tickets are limited and selling fast!

Lizzie Roper works wonders in her solo show. Here’s a comic who can turn in excellent character work – her old woman with a zimmer frame is possibly the best of a remarkably varied bunch. In stark contrast there’s Roper’s feistiness when she’s in stand up mode, a cheery sexual predator with a lustful, life affirming message for us all.
Malcolm Hay Time Out

LIZZIE ROPER is very funny. She’s also very talented. On top of that she’s a bag of energy… Throughout this often hysterical, sophisticated, too-short show, Roper introduces the audience to her take on the Bermuda triangle, Marty Feldman and - a big crowd-pleaser, this - Sindy doll clothes… Lizzie Roper, has the knack of bringing out the naughtiness in people…You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t see her here, because a lot of this show won’t make it to the telly, which is where she’ll be next if there’s any justice.
MARTIN LENON Edinburgh Evening News 5th August [four stars]

Lizzie Roper is a filthy, mouthy, extravagant flirt; and if she doesn’t land a saucy sexpot role in the new Carry On revival, it’ll be a travesty…Unabashedly frank, often dirty, and always entertaining, it’s a rollercoaster ride, powered by Roper’s inexhaustible energy… Who is she? An unexpected hidden highlight of the festival, that’s who.
Steve Bennett Chortle.co.uk 9th August [four stars]

A woman with a fetish for being loud and distracting will take you on a journey exploring all areas of female sexuality from puberty to post-menopause, with great character acting in between. 35 and still an over grown teenager, Lizzie Roper is desperate and, will throw herself at almost any man in the audience. Embarrassing but funny, in a cute kind of way. Her show was filthy, her humour crude, and her over-the-top portrayal of a sex mad minx was witty, octane fuelled and close to genius.
SK Three Weeks [four stars]

Lizzie Roper bursts on the stage like a crazy woman, screwing up her face and making a lunge for a 20-year-old man in the front row. Her mad girl persona – if it is indeed just a persona – is as frightening as it is compelling. You could imagine her doing almost anything, whether or not it was likely to get a laugh. She is tremendously emotive, contorting her facial features into the ugliest conceivable shapes. The members of audience – once they had got used to being bellowed at – loved it…Roper has found something really good here. She is a comedienne who is not afraid to reveal the negative side of her gender, portraying women in a manner few would find flattering.
The Stage.

Horticultural humour from b3ta:

So, the Government plans to improve child welfare by giving each and every child a number. Well, for the civil libertarians amongst you, I reckon this is a back door route to universal ID cards - start ‘em young, and they won’t worry when they still have the same number after 18.
I’m also not convinced that giving kids a number will help. That just strikes me as a spot of window-dressing. Getting agencies to work together is more likely to help, but with the huge differences in culture, the little ivory towers and private empires and the sheer behemothic nature of the state that has mushroomed in the last few years, I have little optimism that we will not see more stories in the news of poor children like Victoria Climbié.

Duck everyone - we’ve been spotted.

The Telegraph yesterday had a tiny piece suggesting that if West Ham are unable to persuade Alan Pardew to join them, then Steve Coppell would be next on the list. This would be very bad for Brighton if it were to happen. The official Seagulls website has nothing to say on the matter.

Hmm. Judging by the records from the internal site search function of this site, either one of the people from my class at school came here looking for himself recently, or someone else was looking for him. I wonder what he thought?

The Blogger server clock is running at least six minutes fast. Take it into consideration when looking at post publication times (like you all sit worrying about these details!).

Interesting BBC article on disposable digital cameras. Actually, I think that these cameras do have a future. I seem to recall the same arguments being made about disposable film cameras when they were launched, competing against cheap but fun non-disposable cameras like the Konica Pop. The key is that they are disposable, not that they are less than fully featured. If you are in an environment where a camera might get damaged or go missing (club, pub, party, amusement park, etc), then it is the disposability that is the key. If it gets nicked or a pint is spilled all over it, who cares?
I think these things have a strong future ahead. Just you wait and see.

Leni Riefenstahl, RIP.

Being the good boy that I am, I’ve just spent half and hour managing my finances. Which revealed the following:

• I’m not as broke as I thought I was. Not much better off than I thought, admittedly, but not likely to see the bailiffs yet. And my credit card borrowings are way below the national average.
• RBS Advanta are offering the best deal on interest-free credit cards at the moment, better even than Egg, with an interest-free period on purchases and balance transfers until June 1st 2004. The application is in the post.
• RBS Advanta are also offering a MasterCard with the corner cut off. Bizarre. I wanted a MasterCard as it seems useful for making some purchases on the continent (particularly automated purchases for fuel and railway tickets, where machines often do not accept Visa), so I’ve applied for the funny shaped one. I’ll report back when it arrives (assuming my application is successful).
• Egg are offering a prize draw. The prize is a £25,000 loan. Ummm. So they are offering the winner the chance to repay a loan?! What sort of prize is that?

Incidentally, my finances would be in much better shape if ever I put in an expenses claim to my own business. Then I could use more of the money that I’ve borrowed from Barclays to pay off the mortgage that I used to raise that money. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t just be simpler to give my organs directly to Barclays and let them sell them themselves.

Don’t forget! International Talk Like A Pirate Day is only ten days away! You have until September 19th to practice your "Avast ye!" and "Yarr!" until you have it perfected!

Service continues to be intermittent here. Apologies for that. New hosting solution coming soon, I promise (and thanks for the several generous offers that have been forthcoming - I’ll stick a pin in the list one day soon to choose someone).
Grayblog seems to be online at the moment, which adds to a day where everything seems to be falling into place, which is nice.

BloggerPro is going to become free of charge. Annoying for anyone that has recently paid for it, but not so bad for those of us who are near the end of our subscription period. And speaks volumes about the perceived quality of the product compared to competing offerings at the moment.

Hmm. I seem to be talking to myself. Clearly, something at EasySpace is borked. This is annoying in the extreme.

They used to have other blogs. Now they have this one. Will someone nail them down?

Anna Lindh, RIP.
I wonder if the referendum on joining the euro will go ahead on Sunday in light of this tragic news. My feeling was that entry into the euro by the Swedish would have a positive impact on the pro-euro campaigns in Denmark, and, subsequently, in the UK. But all that seems a little inconsequential now.

If you’re able to read this page, read it quick, as this site is up and down more often than a whore’s knickers. Once again, apologies for the quality of service (and the quality of analogy).

Oh dear. I see that my letter to the Observer has earned a flaming reply from someone that actually knew one of the soldiers that died. Unfortunately, they missed my point, which was that for the Mayor to say that the deaths were like losing members of family was overstating things. For someone that actually knew the persons concerned well, then it is clearly a different matter entirely.
Of course, I’m now portrayed as a heartless soul who doesn’t care. And there isn’t really much point in me taking the correspondence any further.

Busy busy today. I had considered going to Norfolk today for a small regional trade show, but I’m glad I didn’t. I’ve achieved a lot more here in the office.

As pointed out elsewhere (ScaryDuck, for example), you could do worse than read this today.
I don’t know. Two years on and those who were foolish enough to think that things would get better must slowly be coming round to my way of thinking.

I’ve just listened to the news on Radio 4. The news items were as follows:

• The ongoing political turmoil surrounding the war in Iraq
• The memorial services to mark the second anniversary of the September 11th attacks
• The murder of the Swedish foreign secretary
• The agreed compensation deal between France and Libya for the victims of the bomb attack that brought down a French airliner over Niger
• The decision by the Israeli cabinet to expel Yasser Arafat, and the likely consequences of that decision

It is incredibly hard to be optimistic about the world’s future.

Meg is worrying about turning thirty. Well, she may not be worrying as such, but it is certainly on her mind. Personally, I think life just continues to get better, but then I’m having a good time of things at the moment on most levels. I’m sure not all people feel that way, but I see no reason to be negative about the prospect of turning thirty. I don’t think I’ll feel too negative about turning forty when that milestone approaches, either.

This weekend, I must:

• go for dinner with some friends this evening, which will include being with someone that a couple of my friends are trying to match me up with, but in whom I have no interest whatsoever
• do some laundry, tidy the flat and various other mundane chores
• try to finish building and launching PFE’s website
• get some films processed
• try to organise lunch with Sarah if she is around
• go on a date on Sunday evening with someone that interests me sufficiently that I want to go on the date, but has a couple of attributes that make me think that it might be better if I didn’t (watch out for me either saying on Monday that I should have known better, or floating on cloud 9 in that way I have)
• get some beers in with the usual suspects
• extend the weekend by going to London on Monday to spend the day with my cousin, Gemma, and do a couple of art-related activities before filling ourselves with good food and red wine
• book my flights to the US for early October and send replies to the invitations.

A pretty full weekend, it seems.

The Man In Black, RIP.

Belatedly, Edward Teller, RIP. Whatever you think of his work, it undoubtedly was a major influence on 20th century politics and the Cold War.

John Ritter, RIP.

Someone, somewhere, has been born today who will be famous, a great scientist, politician or thinker, or in some way touch the lives of others in a positive way. Yes, let’s think positively, ok?

Dinner tonight at the Royal Oak at Lavant with Jo, Andy, Julie, Andrew and Sasha. A slight sour taste from the fact that forty quid that I put into the kitty for the bill seemed to go missing. I’m not accusing Hayley and the staff of anything improper, but we felt uncomfortable about the whole thing, and it is likely to deter us from eating there again. I hope it’ll be resolved.
Otherwise, a great night with good food and good company. But being seventy quid out of pocket after drinks, cab and missing money doesn’t make me feel good.

Saturday morning therapy: garage door tennis. My highscore is 15, not bad when using a laptop touchpad rather than a proper mouse. And worth playing for the soundtrack, which suggests that the game is set in a neighbourhood that is home to a sychronised lawnmower display team.

Lunch today in the Slug with Sarah and Paul, with a sighting of Gill, who I’ve not seen for ages, and, later, of Paul and Alison F.
No mention of sport today, thank you. Not a good day on that front.

Do you know who might be the next Democrat candidate for the US presidency? Didn’t think so….

• Justin Webb’s From Our Own Correspondent article is worth reading.
• The BBC also, helpfully, profiles each of the contenders, and links to their own websites, thereby saving me the bother.
• New York Times: worried Democrats see daunting hurdles.
• As you might expect, the Washington Post has a whole section devoted to the 2004 election, including background, candidate profiles, a timetable and just about everything a complete novice or expert could need to understand what is going on. Recommended.
• And don’t forget that, in the meantime, we still have the Californian gubernatorial recall vote. The Sacramento Bee continues to have the best coverage that I’ve seen. Worth reading too is Daniel Weintraub’s California Insider weblog, which is currently concentrating on the recall vote.

Sticking with media news, this report is worrying. When will the global community act against Mugabe?

Beer tonight with Lord Percy, Lady Bren, Arron and Terry, with sightings of several of the usual suspects. Much food for thought for all, I think it is fair to say.

Slang - Dirtwater Telegraph. Worth watching.

OK kiddies. A few people have been muttering about a lack of interactivity here lately. Furthermore, the current header graphic has been almost universally unpopular. There’s no pleasing some people. Or is there?…
Yes, folks, it’s time for a poll! Woo! Yay! To celebrate this site’s third birthday on Tuesday, I’m going to let you vote on a choice of candidate header graphics that I’ve spent the morning designing when I should have been doing work. In true Scaryduck style, I expect that I’ll ignore your vote and choose the one I like best. But that’s not the point.
Here are the candidates:

Capitol Balustrade. Looking through the balustrade around the State Capitol in Sacramento, as a couple of people look back at me.

Capitol Ceiling. Looking up at the ceiling of the dome of the same building in Sacramento.

City Café. In Sacramento again.

Palm House Door. The southern end of the Palm House at Kew.

Railings. On top of the city walls, very near my flat.

Warning. A sign on a wall near my flat.

So, six choices. And you decide. Or something.
Votes in by 5pm Friday 19th September. The new graphic will be in place next weekend.
Go on! Vote…!

I went for a stroll around the city this afternoon, and stumbled upon the annual opening of Ede’s House. Ede’s House is an imposing building in West Street. Until 1936, it was the seat of West Sussex County Council. It was then used as the public library until 1967, when it became the County Record Office. When the Record Office moved to a purpose built building at the far end of my street in the early nineties, Ede’s House was restored so that it could be used as committee rooms for the council, and also by local organisations for meetings. It was the first time I’ve ever been inside. It’s an impressive building, but it seems somehow to have the air of an office, and not quite the impressive town house that the exterior promises. Also, I note that only one of the rooms is really large enough for any sort of meeting to take place, and even then I only think it could seat 50 or 60 people.
One of the most notable features of the building is a pair of large stone pineapples that flank the West Street facade. And, luckily for you, I took a picture of one earlier this year.

Sweden rejects euro. I think I may bring forward my plans for moving to Portugal, as I see no prospect of the UK joining the euro any time before 2015.

R Kelly’s career compared to dodo.

Today, I shall be in London with Gemma, my cousin, viewing art, spending money and getting drunk and fat. Which is a good plan.
And I’ve just booked my flights for David’s wedding - at reduced price too. Bargain! Plus I get a gazillion AAdvantage points for flying via St Louis on the outward journey and via Dallas/Ft Worth on the return, and save another £65. Yay!