I’m tired. But must clean. And perhaps try to reconnect with reality. But then again…

Today I ordered a new mattress. It will cost £250, including £20 delivery. In addition, I will have to pay the local authority £15 to remove my old one. This sleeping malarkey is expensive!
What’s more, the new mattress will not be delivered for nearly a month. Guh.

What do you think? (via BNI)

I’m a bit detached from reality at the moment, so please excuse me, and also excuse the likely quietness that will exist around this site for the foreseeable. I’m enjoying the detachment, although I’ve got a lot of cleaning to do.
However, I can report that Brighton won 3-0 yesterday, and Bob Booker is jolly pleased about it. Which is nice.

Expect no updates today. I’ll be away from the PC all day – undoubtedly a very good thing.

Beer tonight with Arron, Paul C, Jeremy, Simon, Dave and Tim W, with sightings of Luce and Nicki.

Jackhammer Rampage. Like it.

Forgot to say. Dave’s windows quote has arrived. It features very few zeros, but a large number of other numbers in long rows.

On the subject of next week’s launch of China’s first manned space mission:

Hmm.
BBC reporting here.

I really must learn that the best way to clean bits of lint from my laptop screen is not to wipe my greasy mitts across it. Gah. Fingerprints.

Somehow, I’ve hurt my back. It was sore yesterday, a dull sort of ache just below and between my shoulder blades, and just to the right of my spine – a dull sort of ache that turns into a sharp stabbing pain if I reach or twist in a certain way. Various tinctures and potions have eased it a little, as well as an hour-long soak in the bath last night, but I think what I could really do with is a good long massage. I’m not sure that massage would actually relieve the pain, but it would certainly make me feel better!
I think my body may be beginning to rebel in reaction to timezone changes, excessive alcohol consumption and a lack of exercise. What I need is a period of rest, and, thankfully, I have an exciting yet restful and relaxing weekend lined up.

Yet another example of why organised religion is a bad thing: Vatican: condoms don’t stop AIDS. Found via the boys at the spool.

Sigh.

There are moves afoot to organise a UK bloggers Christmas party. What’s the betting that the idea will not get any further than everyone sitting around saying "yes, let’s do it!" because nobody wants the pain of actually organising the event themselves? Having been involved in coordinating this sort of thing before, I know that it is not a job for the faint-hearted, not least because attempted to find a venue and date that at least some people can accept is one of the most difficult tasks known to mankind. Still, if I’m around, I’ll go, as I haven’t been to one of these bashes in a long while.

UPDATE: I take it all back. Check here.

For the first time in a week, I slept absolutely solidly last night for nearly nine hours. I can’t say that I feel totally rested today, but I certainly feel much better.
There’s lots of work to be done today, so please excuse me again if I’m quiet.

I’m sure I’ve linked to Happy Tree Friends before, but Michael has reminded me of them today. Blood, gore, animation. What more do you need?

Not as good as Weebl and Bob though. And certainly not as good as Space Is Dum.

Actually getting some work done today, so expect quiet.

(Actually, I wrote this three hours ago, and only got around to hitting "publish" now – that’s how busy I am. Fear me and my productivity.)

Everyone linked this ages ago, but I thought that some of you might have missed it.

California recall election. Not much to do now other than sit back and wait for the results. And read the Sacramento Bee’s Recall Fly On The Wall blog.
My money is on a yes vote in the recall ballot by a narrow margin (possibly even after a recount), and then Arnie winning the election, largely thanks to the huge number of absentee votes posted before all the recent mudslinging. Bustamante will be second.

Actually, I could get used to dieting. Tonight: smoked salmon salad with lemon and mint dressing, followed by fresh fruit salad, all home-made, of course. Delicious.

Well, the diet has officially begun. I weighed-in this morning at 13st 10lbs (that’s 192lbs for the Americans, or 87.2kg for those who work in metric), and set a target of 12st 10lbs (178lbs or 80.8kg) to be reached by 2nd December – eight weeks from today. I’ve got off to a bad start by having four of mum’s home-made cheese scones for lunch, so it’ll have to be just salad for tea I think. This could be harder than last time.
Also, the observant amongst you will notice that my weight has not quite got to the level at which I started when I dieted last year. My start weight last year was 13st 13lbs, so I’ve managed to keep below that, even though my lifestyle has definitely got less healthy since then.

It looks highly likely that Steve Coppell will leave Brighton to go to the Reading manager’s job. This would be very bad for Brighton, undoubtedly, but not as bad as if he were to be replaced by Glenn Hoddle (shudder). Dark days ahead, which is a shame now that we are at the head of Division Two.

Beer tonight, believe it or not, with Paul F, listening to jazz courtesy of Nette and Lou. Nette has a most beautiful voice, and Lou is pretty handy with the guitar. Great for time-zone-confused people.

Virtual Stapler, via Weebl. How handy.
And speaking of Weebl, there’s a new Weebl and Bob that we need to watch in order to understand the next episode, due later this week.

Now back home. Expect a resumption of near-normal service.

(Written during the course of Sunday…)

Airport blogging. Charlotte-Douglas Airport.
I’m absolutely knackered. I don’t think I’ve drunk so much in one weekend in my entire life. We got back to the hotel at some absurdly late hour, having toured a couple of bars in Charlotte with some absolutely fabulous people, particularly Anna, Alicia, Dwight, Jason and Claire – they really looked after us brilliantly and made sure we had a great time. I gave away a shedload of my business cards to complete strangers, and apparently we arranged to meet a girl in London next weekend that Dwight just randomly accosted in the bar and said "Hey! I want you to meet these guys! They’re from England!" We called this a "Dwight moment". Dwight is a huge bloke, 50% bald, with a totally disarming and engaging manner. He creates Dwight moments with people completely at random. A few years ago he had a moment with an extraordinarily beautiful woman in a bar, and she fell for him entirely. That was Alicia and they’ve recently married. Lucky bastard! Maybe I need to start creating a few Graham moments.
Actually, I don’t remember big chunks of last night’s events at all, and Neil, Kev and I sat over breakfast this morning trying to piece everything together. Unfortunately, all I have is a set of pieces, few of which actually fit together into any sort of order. I think they are the same, and we kept having "Oh, and what about the Siegfried and Roy conversation?" and "What about when you told that woman about meeting the Duke of Edinburgh?" discussions, not to mention "do you remember the ‘to ming is a verb’ discussion?"
Anyway, I can’t sit here looking at this any more, as I’m simply too tired. I have got to the airport very early, so can relax here and have a nap. Earlier, I took a stroll around the Uptown area of Charlotte and rattled off a few pictures which I will share with you, before zipping here in a stretch limo (well, you have to do these things in style you know!).
More later.

UPDATE: Dallas-Fort Worth Airport.
Well, the Dallas skyline doesn’t look quite like it used to in the titles of the TV show (cue bad impressions of Larry Hagman talking about the way his "Daddy" used to do things, and Ken Kercheval just acting badly). The airport, however, matches the state of Texas by being absolutely vast. AA have three whole terminals here to themselves – there are silver aircraft as far as the eye can see. I’ve just walked from the far end of terminal C to the middle of terminal A, eschewing the option of taking the trAAin. That’s how vast this place is – the airline actually have their own rapid transit system within the airport to move people around just between their own gates. Apparently, Delta, Continental and all the other airlines have their facilities away in other parts of this enormous airport, which, as you approach it by air, you can see is about the size of a small English county (and that isn’t much of an exaggeration).
However, in spite of its vast size, and in common with Charlotte, there are no power points here to enable me to power the laptop, so I’m glad I charged the battery fully before I left the hotel, as I’ve got another hour and a half here, and it’s good to be able to plug the headphones in and get some audio entertainment to block out the sounds of the place. St Louis, San Francisco and Los Angeles all feature them, and dead useful they are too. However, there is WiFi available here, and I’m becoming increasingly convinced that it might be useful to have functionality on the laptop. Mind you, that assumes I could get it to work. I had problems with the high speed net access at the Marriott in Charlotte – I couldn’t send email, as access to both the SMTP servers that I normally use did not seem to be working. It cost US$9.99 per day, but that probably makes it comparable to the Net2Roam costs that I would have incurred. I also doubt that it was working at the claimed 10mbps, as it seemed to be slower than my home 512k broadband access.
I’ve just taken another Advil, but this time not to combat the hangover (which has nicely abated), but to deal with my cold symptoms, which seem to be getting steadily worse. Getting a short nap on the flight from Charlotte helped though.
The weather here is disappointingly cloudy, so the view towards downtown Dallas isn’t as good as it might be. And, frankly, you’re not going to see much anyway, as there isn’t a good line of sight available – the outside of the terminal is cluttered with airbridges, aircon kit, pylons and goodness knows what else, which not only diminishes the view, but means that the interior of the terminals are much more dependent on artificial light. It’s not a great airport design – I can see why people don’t like it. Charlotte, on the other hand, has a clean and simple, elegant and functional design, that was highly usable.
Hmm. Maybe I need to start an airport review section. My favourite airport that I’ve been through is, undoubtedly, Santa Barbara. It’s small with a good atmosphere. Of the bigger airports, Barcelona would probably be my favourite. Functional, with a little bit of character too.
Oh well, homeward bound. Apparently it’s turned chilly at home, but having played my long sleeve shirt card on Saturday morning at the luncheon for out-of-towners at Cynthia’s house (nice lady – though one of those aggressively single late fortysomethings, but great fun), I’m left with a rather light Claiborne black short sleeved t-shirt to withstand 12 degrees Celsius. Not well planned. Still, the pimptastic jacket should come to my rescue.
One thing is for sure – when I get back, I need to do something serious about weight loss. I’ve been quietly accruing pounds over the last few weeks and months, and this trip has really compounded matters due to the vast quantities of food and drink consumed. So, I’ll be off beer and on vodka slimlines, off lard and on lettuce, and off my butt and out walking. And I’ll log my progress in the sidebar of this site – I’m going to work on the same basis as the last time, losing around two pounds each week. To cut myself a little slack, my aim will be to lose 14 pounds (one stone) in eight weeks. I’ll have a weigh-in on Tuesday morning. Anyone up for joining me?
Right, time to go find a bottle of water for the flight (at least there is no shortage of stores here), and then get some reading and people-watching done. I’ll publish this when I get home.

This morning, I don’t have a hangover. I’m still drunk. I’m sure the hangover will kick in later. And my voice seems to have been replaced in the night with that of Mike Reid. "Pat! Pat!" – or, alternatively – "Runaround!"
(Nobody outside of the UK will understand that).
The ceremony yesterday really was excellent – it was so obvious that David and Andi totally love each other – and the food and drink at the reception was also brilliant. And the pubs that we went to afterwards were great too, with utterly brilliant people – I hope I can keep in touch with them.

Urf. I have a mighty hangover. Outside, hundreds of people are running past the hotel in part of a charity event for breast cancer charities. Inside, my head is buzzing, the direct result of mixing beer, wine and champers – never a good idea.
Today – food and gladhanding, then the ceremony and reception. Looking forward to Neil arriving halfway through the ceremony.

Zzz. Too much alcohol. Nice people though. More tomorrow.

Off hiking, then driving to Charlotte. Another not-terribly-restful night due to the hotel being right by an interstate interchange. But it is comfy, clean, with a huge square bed and one of those only-in-the-US showers that blasts you against the wall.

Only in America – a "live" interview with Kermit the Frog on screen, with a news headline banner at the bottom telling that David Kay, head WMD inspector for the CIA, says that there are no WMDs in Iraq. What I can’t get over is that the Americans still seem convinced that they are there to be found.

I’m really tired and didn’t sleep too well last night.
Spent today driving in a hired Ford Focus to the brilliant Plant Delights nursery, where I spent hours talking about, photographing and taking notes on new plants, before taking a few wrong turns, driving past beautiful Harris Lake and then down Old US 1 to Rockingham, where I’m now in another Holiday Inn Express. I’m off out for a meal in a bit, then an early night.

The epic work of literature is still progressing, and seems to be drawing towards some sort of climax.

Time for another one of those airport lounge monologues. Gatwick South Terminal is the location for today’s. Enjoy.
I’m sitting in the lounge with a pint of Stella and a view of the roof and a few tail fins – certainly not as good as the view from San Francisco, but the distant low hills mean it is slightly more interesting than the view from Sacramento, which must surely be the dreariest airport I’ve ever travelled through. But then I’m returning via Dallas/fort Worth, which is reputed to be the greatest aviation hellhole on Earth. We shall see.
So far today, I’ve collected my dollars and my suit, both uneventfully, and also picked up a card for David and Andi – the one thing I’d forgotten.
The journey here was largely uneventful – the train was on time, and offered little amusement. I got my head into Haruki Murakami’s Underground, which is an incredibly moving and sad book, and I’m only on the fourth chapter. I decided to bring this instead of Michel Houllebecq’s (sp?) Platform, which might just be too racy for the US Customs inspectors.
Oh, and in case you are wondering why I’ve already resorted to alcohol, it’s because I know that American charge $4 for each and every drink on their flights, and I don’t want to be bankrupted.
Out of the window, Monarch and Britannia aircraft are performing a strange sort of dance on the taxiway, as a tractor runs in strange circles towing a mower across the runway-side grass. All of this is performed in a bizarre silence, the triple glazing of the terminal windows providing an effective barrier between waiting passengers and the noise of the aircraft.
Inevitably, and as always seems to happen in airports, I was quizzed by a couple of guys as I was waiting in line for security about my jacket (I’m talking about the infamous pimptastic jacket, of course). Apparently, they had seen it in a shop in Marbella (must have been Zara), one had tried it on and thought it was "the dog’s bollocks" whilst the other assured him that he shouldn’t be seen dead in it. Which is pretty much the same conversation I end up having with just about anyone new that I meet whilst wearing it. Even the security lady at the AA check-in was interested in it, complaining that she felt cold. But then she was from Croydon and likes Bognor. There isn’t much hope for some people.
Two people to my right have just spotted and recognised each other – one of those "where are you going then?" type conversations is now ensuing. He’s suddenly changed from a suit that was gently dozing into his newspaper and coffee into a vibrant and energetic conversationalist – which is suspect is in no small part related to the fact that she is your classic oriental beauty.
Arses, we’re already boarding. time to glug my beer and get going.

Update: well, I’m now down at the gate, and have plenty of time in hand. As usual, American are working hard to maintain their record for the most punctual trans-Atlantic service.
It’s always interesting to sit in these lounges and have a look at fellow passengers. I’ve already decided who I’d like to be sat next to on the flight, but I suspect that is wishful thinking. I’ve also identified the "extra wide seat&quot that I hope I don’t get sat next to. But generally, the passengers here seem to fall into three groups – young people aged 25 to 35 (yay! I’m young!) who are travelling on their own, and are either currently sitting with their head in a book, or are looking around the room trying to find something to interest them (usually the other people) and wishing they had brought a book with them. There is also a smattering of middle-aged people, but the bulk of the passengers are older couples, mostly American judging by the accents. One or two have surprisingly awful facial hair. I guess that St louis isn’t likely to attract the vibrant young European travellers, and my guess is that the younger people here are either on business or are travelling on to other destinations. (Sorry Teresa Michelle, I’m not dussing your city! But have you read any Jonathan Franzen?).
On the plus side, it doesn’t look like this flight is full, so there should be some room to spread out. The seating plan on aa.com showed the seat next to me as occupied, but hopefully they have moved them back to a window seat.
Then again, it looks like a whole crowd of new people have just arrived at the gate.
Hmm. I’m not sure if this real-time blogging is a good thing. This is turning into one of those stream-of-consciousness posts. Mind you, the beer isn’t helping – gone straight to my head. Serves me right for glugging it.
Out in the corridor, visible through the plate glass, is a display of photography sponsored by BAA. There are some good pictures there, and they vary in scale between small A4 sized prints to huge behemoths that only just fit on the wall. It is good that the airport management make some effort to enliven the building, but you have to wonder if it is worth it from the point of view of those displaying their work. Their audience consists of passers-by who are totally preoccupied with getting on a plane and flying away to another destination – or returning travellers, who have just one thought – home as soon as possible.
There is a guy (he’s American – he isn’t a bloke, he’s a guy) who is currently reading out last night’s restaurant bill at full volume for the entire lounge to hear. Three bottles of wine, apparently, six bottles of water and five Alhambras. Five whole Moorish palaces? Wow. I’m impressed. Twat.
Oh dear, I’m slipping into my whole pitying the Americans mode. They can’t help it. And I need to get over that, or else tomorrow’s business meeting won’t go well (I’ve already had a fairly lively discussion with Tony when I met him in Sacramento) and the wedding could get very embarrassing, especially once I’ve had a few drinks at the reception.
And why are so many Americans called Jerry?
Right, time to shut this thing off before this stream of consciousness turns into a stream of gibberish. Well, more so than it already has.
Further reports from St Louis.

St Louis update:
Tw opints of beer (a not bad local IPA) and already my typing has gone to pieces (I’ll leave that typo in for you, just to demonstrate). Conversations in the bar with a couple of business types (as opposed to Businessman Billy types – oh good, two pints AND really lateral references too!) about US attitudes to world current affairs, the difference in travelling by road in the US compared with travelling in the UK and EU, and a lengthy discussion on where exactly Chichester is in the UK (no, it’s not near Strat-FORD upon Ay-VON).
St Louis airport was almost in line for my Most Awful Airport In The World Award due to its bizarre reclaim-your-baggage-then-check-it-back-in-then-reclaim-it-again-even-if-St-Louis-is-your-final-destination system, but actually it has some nice bars, plenty of powerpoints for running laptops and architecture that isn’t so shockingly bland that you want to slit your wrists in desperation. It does have shockingly poor signage though – confused, cluttered signs that do not give simple clear information. Go to Schiphol guys – learn how it is done.
Anyhow, my inward flight was unexciting. I got chatting with the guy in the seat behind me (sorry, he was a bloke, not a guy) who was from Cornwall and was friendly and amusing enough. Which is more than can be said for the three Scottish women sitting just ahead of me, who were loud and objectionable. Morag, particularly, laughed far too loudly to deserve to live.
Anyhow, I’m fairly pooped, and I have another flight to get through and then I have to get to the hotel. Joy. I’ll certainly sleep well once I get to a bed. And I’ve realised that I’ve left the invitations for the wedding and dinner at home, which is partly annoying, not particularly diastrous, but possibly mildly inconvenient, considering that the invitation included directions for finding the chapel. Let’s just hope that Kev remembered his (oh dear. Relying on Kev. A bad sign.).
I’ve made some notes aboth the flight over too, which I’ll entertain you with later. They aren’t that exciting.
And if anyone else asks me about my jacket…..

Right, nearly time for boarding, and I need a loo. I’ll publish this when I get to the hotel (if I can stay awake long enough), and possibly post an update if I can be arsed.

Being late costs Ecuador $723,947,653.13. Precisely, apparently.

Today, I shall mostly be travelling to America. But before I do that, I must go and pick up my new suit and also get some dollars from the bank. Expect quiet.

Is this National Blog About Pregnancy Week?

• wondering if it has begun
• relieved that it hasn’t
• observing it in others
• experiencing it first hand (well, second hand really, but as close as any man can get)
• showing off the results

I think I’ll keep clear of this for the time being. Mind you, based on the lack of much action lately, I don’t think I have much choice in the matter.

I mentioned that the nursery was ceasing regular opening, and I promised to explain what was happening. It’s pretty simple really – I’m leaving the nursery to focus on running PFE, and my parents are both of an age when they should be retired more than they are. So, they are going to stop running the nursery in the way that it has been (i.e. growing shedloads of plants and dealing with the public), and focus on developing a garden – in other words, spend more time doing what they want to do rather than do what the darned customers expect them to do. Dad will carry on with his plant breeding work, which I will be representing within the PFE portfolio. And in the future, the nursery will reopen under my brother’s command – well, that’s the theory at least. He has to build a new home at the nursery first.
I think it should lead to a much better quality of life for just about everyone. New challenges for me and Tim, who like that sort of thing, and a more relaxed lifestyle for Mum and Dad. Let’s just hope that the actuality lives up to the expectation.

Yesterday, I got lazy and invited you to create content for me. A great work of literature is currently being created in the comments section – you can read it so far, and add you own contribution, by clicking here.
I’ll have to keep an eye on it, as BlogBack has a limit of 50 comments per post.

Not good.

CutePDF Printer has all the attributes of a great gizmo – it’s easy to install, easy to use, has simple functionality and is free. It also has the grayblog seal of approval.

I’m too tired to write anything here. Go entertain yourself by reading other people’s sites. Come back tomorrow. I may be more inspired then.
Alternatively, if you are feeling creative, come up with some content for me and post it in the comments. Thanks.

Bognor Regis is second worst place in the UK for young people, apparently.
The problem has so many causes, I could rant on about it for ages. Part of the problem is actually surveys like this – they not only enhance a town’s "tea dance and bingo" reputation by banging on about it, but they also seem to suggest that the solution lies in activities that are centred on alcohol (in this case, the survey is sponsored by the vomit and driving ban inducing After Shock). This latter point has two problems associated with it – firstly it suggests that young people can only feel entertained when they are inebriated, which I think severely underestimates the majority of young people (it’s only once you get past 30 that this holds true!). Secondly, by encouraging a drinking culture in younger people, the divide between young and old only widens.
To put it right, decision makers (often older people) have to understand the needs of the younger citizens of their towns. Younger people have to get involved in the decision making process too – not just moan amongst themselves, but try to be heard. Chichester has no nightclub in the city, yet it has a university and a college, with a big student population. Bognor only has a small cinema and no bowling alley. Neither Bognor nor Chichester have much to offer to the 15 to 18 year old group, which is why they end up hanging around the Cross and convenience stores, swigging off bottles of booze that they’ve purchased illegally.
Both the young and old communities have to realise that they live in a shared space, and accept that each group has its own needs. Each has to accept and tolerate the other – the old community must get over its nimbyism whilst the young must respect the space and peace that the rest of the community might prefer.

Busy busy busy today, trying to sort out all the jobs I need to do before scooting off to the States on Wednesday.
One thing I must do is to back up the data on the laptop – we don’t want any disasters, do we?

Here’s one for all you broadband-equipped kiddies – Audiogame. I’m not quite sure where the game element comes in, but it is rather beautiful and very cleverly executed. via flabber.nl

This game is stupidly addictive. via Meg.

Dave is coming round this morning to talk windows. I suppose I’d better tidy the place up a bit.

Last night, when I got home from the pub, I logged on to the BBC website and watched the launch of the Ariane 5 rocket carrying the SMART 1 moon probe. I was watching events unfurl in real time, completely live, on a small portable device that sits on my lap. Sometimes it pays to stop and think about things like that.
What’s more, in a few weeks time, we will (hopefully) be watching live pictures from Mars. How cool is that?

Handy advice from dictionary.com this morning, which I shall pass on to you – take care not to confuse the words "titivate" and "titillate". Hmm. Yes.

Beer tonight with Hamish, Ruth, Paul C, Natalie C, Kearn, Matt, Stein, Jeremy, Simon, Tanya, Terry, Kristian and other picture postcards.

So far this morning, I’ve spent getting on for half a month’s wages. Oops. To show for it, I have:

• a pale charcoal grey pure wool suit, which is to be altered and will be ready on Wednesday morning. Bargain at £209 from Stephen Lawrence – reduced from £309.
• a shirt, also from Stephen Lawrence. £59.
• a new pair of smart black shoes, almost boots really, from Russell and Bromley. £125.
• a pair of brown nubuck boots, totally lovely and adorable, also from Russell and Bromley. £140, including the insoles needed to make them fit more comfortably.
• a gift for the wedding. Value not disclosed!
• a new suitcase by Linea at Army and Navy. £80. My old soft case was getting a bit battered and the zips were beginning to fail. It doesn’t really fit the modern smart business image. So I’ve got myself a smart black job, the sort that has a handle and wheels, that is slightly rigid and should prevent the contents being crushed. I’ll need to do something to distinguish it in readiness for baggage reclaim, as the world and it’s wife has black bags that look just like it. I was tempted by the silver, but I could see from the display examples that it marked very easily.

Down to earth now, with a trip to Waitrose. I need to give them some money too.
And I can see why RBS Advanta have made the card with a corner cut off and transparent plastic – everywhere I went, as soon as I pulled it out of my wallet, everyone went "oooh! look at that! that’s funky! I want one!"

Weebl and Bob fans should check out this Chris the Ninja Pirate game without delay.

Late beer with Al, Arron, Bren, Greg, Kearn and Paul "Open University" F.

Tom Coates on why the British don’t like Blaine. Because, basically, he’s a twat.
And I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone in West Wittering use the word "wanker". Too much blue rinse down there for that.

Robert Palmer, RIP.

My new RBS Advanta credit card has arrived, with a scarily large credit limit on it. It really does have the corner missing. Not only that, but it is transparent. Novelty value, or what?! But the main thing is my application was successful, and I can now exploit the 0% balance transfers to reduce my monthly outgoings.

Today I shall not be in the office. Instead, I’ll be going to the tax office to try and sort out the Inland Revenue’s incompetence and general failings and get myself a pair of new tax codes so that the debt that I’m steadily building in unpaid tax does not become overwhelming (I estimate that it currently stands at around £700). After that, I shall be relying on Jo to help me relax with a 45 minute session in the hair salon. That’ll be followed by an afternoon back at home, waiting for the gas engineer to come round and give my central heating its annual service, which, in view of the cool nights we have had recently, is timely. After that, I have to head over to the office, pick up various bits of equipment and then head across the road to the mill to give a presentation on the history of the nursery – and break the news to assorted local busybodies that the place will cease regular trading at the end of the year. That’ll start them talking.
If I get back to Chichester early enough, I might amble into the bar to end the day.

One pie in the hole is worth one pie in the hand.

Today is the 100th anniversary of the birth of Mark Rothko. Overview of his career here.

I think that this is utterly brilliant, both architecturally and conceptually.

I’ve just had a lovely email from Laura, an aspiring weathergirl (I bet she hates that term!). She has a site here, which I’m linking because she said nice things about grayblog. I’m soft like that.

Good.

I’ve been busy all day making travel plans for my visit to North Carolina next week. The hotel that had been block booked for the wedding guests is fully booked, but I’ve got myself into the Marriott that is right across the street from the venue for the rehearsal dinner (whatever that is). It’s a little more expensive, but I should make up for it in saved cab fees, both getting to and from the rehearsal dinner, and also getting to and from the airport (yay for shuttle buses!). I’ve also booked the other hotels that I need, as well as a hire car, and have looked for ideas for ways to enjoy the Friday morning when en route from Rockingham to Charlotte. A trip to the Pee Dee National Wildlife Refuge looks interesting – I’ll pack my boots and plan for a walk for a couple of hours, if the weather is fair.

Proto-rants (i.e. ideas that are half formed in my head that I’m too busy to expand on, but present for discussion):

• Microsoft killing chat rooms to prevent paedophiles gaining access to kids. Well, this is clearly a move by MS to prevent their arse being sued in a big way by some litigious, aggrieved and (most likely) grieving parent. But the logic is akin to saying "kids get killed on roads, so let’s rip all the roads up and destroy all the vehicles! yay!"
• Report will show that Iraq was working on developing the beginnings of perhaps moving towards a programme to investigate the possibility of making some WMDs (I’d link to the news reports about the actual US-led task group that has come up with this gem, but I’ve got a date this evening and don’t want to be late, ok?). Perhaps. Maybe. The evidence? They had bunsen burners! Scary. Mind you, any secondary school class equipped with bunsen burners could, within minutes, wipe out your average small town. My response – WTF?
• Coats on dogs. To quote Dogbert: "It is equally impolite for animals to wear pants as it is for people to be nude". So Brian, please make sure it only happens in the privacy of your own home, or on that beach behind the shingle bank at Brighton, ok?

And remind me to tell you about the couple in last night’s hotel.

Birmingham to Caernarfon is 140 miles (almost exactly), if you start at the NEC and pass through Oswestry, Llangollen, Capel Curig and Llanberis.
Brian wanted to know.

The following was written this morning, in the same place as the post below:

Isn’t children’s TV awful? Still, it’s more interesting than the breakfast news this morning. Although watching teen actors is pretty painful. And must they all wear baseball caps at stupid angles?
Hmm. I think my policy of not having TV at home is vindicated.
Time for breakfast.

The following was written last night as I sat in the Old Mill in Elmley Castle, Worcestershire:

What a long day. I’m not sure how many miles I’ve covered today – about 350 or so, I think. I began at the Golden Pheasant hotel in LLanglldoflllwrynlllll, or whatever the village was called near Oswestry, with a pleasant breakfast and a fantastic view down the valley. This was followed by one of the most fantastically beautiful drives you could possibly take in this country, heading across country to pick up the A5, and then on past Snowdon to Caernarfon. A very successful meeting took place there, followed by hours of slog up the A55, M56 and M6 to rural Lancashire, not far from Blackpool. There I had an insightful visit to a grower, before slogging back down the M6 and M5 to Worcestershire. I’m now ensconced in The Old Mill, a pub, restaurant and hotel in Elmley Castle, not far from Evesham, who were able to put me up at short notice.
Tomorrow I have a meeting in the afternoon, but the guy I was planning to meet in the morning has yet to return my calls, so my plans for tomorrow might be slightly disrupted. Not to worry, I also had a phone call from Dave Kennamatic, so we should be able to make some progress on my windows. Hurrah!
All of this has taken place to the soundtrack of an old mixtape (remember them?) given to me by Robyn eons ago.

I’m pooped and hungry. Thankfully, the restaurant is still open.

Well, the trade show was excellent, if not very GLEEful, and I made some good new contacts, as well as refreshing some old ones. I also had coffee and a sandwich with Kearn and Paul C, who were both in evidence in professional capacities.
I have a meeting tomorrow in Caernarfon. I didn’t fancy driving all the way in one go, so I have booked a hotel near Oswestry, roughly half way. I missed the turning off the A5, and realised when I reached Llangollen. Consulting the road atlas, I saw an unclassified road that offered a shortcut. Well, the road is roughly as wide as the hire car and includes a few vertical inclines, but also furnished me with some of the finest views of my travels to date. A couple of photos were taken, so you’ll see those later.
This will be a very brief update, as telephone calls cost £0.20 per minute here, which seems incredibly expensive to me. Additionally, I want to go downstairs and investigate the bar and get some food in. And no mobile signal here either. But then I am in a lovely country pub hotel in a small village in the Cambrian Mountains, so I should really expect much else!

Off to GLEE, an exhibition for the garden and leisure industry, and not a place where everyone sits around being cheerful.

Well, I went into Warwick. When I left the hotel, nobody was in the restaurant. When I got back, there were two.
Warwick is a nice town. The Warwick Arms is not a good place to eat though. The food was unexciting. The service worse. And their machine wouldn’t take my credit card, even though I know it’s valid. But the people-watching was fun, so I’m glad I went.

OK, I admit it. I’ve surpassed myself for booking into a bizarre hotel. The Stoneleigh Park Lodge Hotel is situated in the middle of the Stoneleigh National Agricultural Centre showground, a most unusual setting. For those that have never been to a major agricultural showground, it’s a wide open space with a grid of roads and seemingly randomly placed buildings which are left unused for much of the time. One of those buildings, in this case, happens to be a hotel. I reckon there are no more than ten guests here. The restaurant is in another of the randomly placed buildings, about two hundred yards distant across a "green". I can’t decide if I want to be the only guest in the restaurant but be able to have a glass or three of vin rouge with my meal, or if I want to drive into Warwick and see if there is any more life to be had, but be limited to just the one beverage. Hmm.
I think Warwick will most likely win.
On the plus side, the hotel is quiet, comfy and has a phone point. All pluses. And it’s reasonably priced, though not the cheapest. £50 for a double room, including breakfast. But then PFE is paying, so it doesn’t matter, does it?
Oh yeh. I’m PFE. Arses.
Incidentally, isn’t there a blogger in Warwick. Where does that Dead Kenny bloke hang out?

Oxford services on the M40. Not likely to be highly recommended by me any time soon.

Some of you will have noticed that Dave Kennamatic seems to have gone missing. Alarmingly, he’s not even answering email.
"What can I do about this?", I thought to myself. Why – a poll, of course!

Vote-o!
The poll will remain open until Dave posts something.

Funny that the EU referendum vote in Latvia, and most of the other referenda votes too, have seen much less coverage in the media than the "No" vote in the euro referendum in Sweden the other day. Clearly a pro-European news story doesn’t sit so comfortably with the agendas of the newspaper editors.

Bren, Greg and I were going to go to Reading today to poke about the shops, as I need to find one or two items, and I’d travel on from there to Birmingham where I’m attending a trade show tomorrow. But Bren is under the weather, so they’re not up to it. Which is good in one respect, as I’ve done nothing about packing yet, although I have managed to organise myself sufficiently to go and pick up the hire car.

The Plants For Europe website now has a few more pages added. This should hopefully begin to make a little clearer what exactly it is that I am doing – or, at least, it will do when I finish the site. The "What are Plant Variety Rights" and "I have a new plant…" pages will make things even clearer, when I get around to making them.

I’ve been having problems with my laptop. The mouse pointer moves, all by itself, to either the top right or bottom left of the screen. I’ve just disabled the pointer stick, and that seems to have cured the problem – I’ll have to rely on the touchpad instead, which suits me fine as I prefer using it anyway. But it is a little annoying. And I don’t think I want to return the whole machine under warranty to get it repaired, as I don’t really want to be without it for something so minor.

I’ve no idea what use it might be to anyone, but grayblog now has an RSS feed. It can be found at http://www.grayblog.co.uk/rss/index.rdf. All posts from now on will have a title, but that title will not appear on the standard grayblog pages, simply because I don’t want to have to think of a witty title for each post. Titles will be more functional than entertaining.
Well, I say that there is an RSS feed, but I can’t get it to work at the moment. Check back later.
UPDATE: it’s working now.

Ah yes! Monday’s day out. I’d almost forgotten…
After doing a few chores involving the bank, Boots and the district council, I caught a train to London Bridge where I met up with Gem. We don’t see each other anything like often enough. She’s been feeling a bit low lately after a messy break-up, and I get the impression that things have been a bit stressful for her at work, with layoffs and people jumping ship. She seems to be approaching one of those crossroads in life, so I hope it was good for her to take a day out, relax, talk things over with an impartial observer, and generally have a good day.
Anyway, we mooched from London Bridge along the South Bank, pausing for a baguette-based lunch along the way. Not the best baguette I’ve ever eaten, filled with particularly dry grated cheese, but very nice to sit by the river and people watch whilst we caught up on each other’s news.
Then we sauntered along further until we got to the London Eye, where there was an icecream vendor. I really fancied a 99 with two flakes, but he only had chocolate icecream. It was good, but not really what I had in mind.
After this, we went in for the feature attraction of the day, which was a tour of the Saatchi Gallery. Modern art is not really Gem’s bag, and this visit was my idea. She has promised that next time we shall spend an afternoon looking at Impressionist paintings to make up. I say "make up" because even I was not entirely satisfied by the gallery experience. There doesn’t seem to be a logic to the way that the gallery is laid out and the pieces displayed. There is currently a Damien Hirst retrospective, but it was hard to actually gain any sort of overall view of the development of his work and style. Instead, his pieces were scattered through the rooms of the gallery, juxtaposed with works by other artists. The overall feeling of the gallery is that each artist is simply trying to out-shock or out-clever the next, and the endless references to death, sex and shit do become a little tiresome after a while.
Favourite works? Ron Mueck’s Mask, which is truly terrifying in it’s proportions. Hirst’s The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living (known as The Shark In The Tank to you and me), which gives a terrifying impact when viewed from a distance, but seems weaker and more frail when viewed close to. Richard Wilson’s 20:50, which is innovative and produces an awful vertiginous sense in the viewer who also becomes part of the artwork by entering it. In fact, seeing 20:50 alone is worth paying the entrance fee for.
After the Saatchi, we retired to a waterside bar to enjoy some beers in the late summer sunshine, before heading up through Covent Garden to Oxford Street, where we braved the hordes, looked in a few clothes shops and ended up in Waterstone’s at Simpsons to use their loos and buy some paperbacks. Then we headed back to Soho, had some cocktails, met Gem’s friend Lisa, and finished the day with the three of us enjoying a Chinese meal before I had to dash and catch the last train home.
A good day all round, I’d say.

Galileo, RIP (rest in pieces).

Beer tonight with Paul F, Arron, Kearn, Terry, Hamish and other miscreants.
Absolutely.

I’ve just remembered that I haven’t given a full report of Monday’s trip to London. But now it is time to go to the pub, and Arron has promised to buy me a beer, so I don’t want to be late.
Tomorrow kiddies. Just enjoy your lovely new header and dream of textual treats to come.

Ewww. Link nicked from the Byn.

The votes have been counted. The readers have spoken. In spite of a couple of known instances of ballot box stuffing, I think I can safely say that the result is the one that gained the most votes.
And I really liked Palm House Door.

Radical Aces – a great game.

We’ve just found a dead stoat outside. It had a little blood on its neck, so I guess it had been caught and abandoned by a cat. It was only small, clearly one of this year’s young, and its fur was as soft as you could imagine.

We could tell easily that it wasn’t a weasel. After all, they are stoatally different and weasely distinguished. (I know, awful, but I thought I’d save someone the bother).
<rolf>The poor fella didn’t make it</rolf>.

Am I the only one who thinks that the world is going mad? A man in a perspex box, hanging a little bit above the ground by Tower Bridge for 44 days. An incredibly wealthy former member of a popular beat combo. And a newspaper photographer. Add them together, and what do you get? The most ridiculous waste of energy and police time you could possibly imagine.

Yarr!

More on Sussex winning the county championship:

• Angus Fraser in the Independent
• CMJ in The Times
• The Guardian carries interviews with some of the major people involved at Sussex. Peter Moores, the coach, is quoted as saying "we won because we were better than anyone else". Wise words indeed.

Beer with Hamish (happy birthday!), Ruth, Nicki, Jonathan, Greg, Arron and Matt. And tonight I learned that Bora is in France. I expect him to turn up on my doorstep any time soon.

Don’t forget to vote. Less than 24 hours to go.

Chichester District Council have asked for yet more drawings to go with my planning application, in spite of no specific requirement being specified in the application pack and guidance notes. This on top of last week’s request for more money. This process is getting on my nerves.

The Chichester Observer has a headline this week on a story about the memorial service held recently at Westminster Abbey for Dame Thora Hird, who "had a home near Chichester":

Yet more evidence that the editor of the paper is a prat (other than when he prints my letters, obviously).

Murray Goodwin has just struck the winning runs to ensure that Sussex have won the Frizzell County Cricket Championship for the first time in the team’s 164 year history. Brilliant!
BBC Sport coverage.
Sussex County Cricket Club official site.

Lots to do today, so expect quiet. But in other news:

• There is still time to vote in the header graphic poll. "Palm House Door" continues its charge, now with four votes and clear of "City Café", but surely too late to gain the prize?
• Sussex need just 167 runs today to seal victory in the cricket County Championship for the first time in the team’s long long history
• Happy birthday to Hamish
• Hurricane Isabel is passing directly over the area that I will be visiting in two weeks time

And how are you?

Voting in the header graphic poll continues, with "Railings" still in the lead, with a comfortable cushion before second placed "Warning". "Palm House Door" doubled its tally today – it now has two votes.

If you’re wondering what I’m looking at on the web today, you can find it here. Just six points needed and we already have two of them.
Meanwhile, Brighton won last night, though not convincingly.

Busy busy busy, but enjoying the luxury of being able to hold business meetings outside in the glorious warm sunshine. Indian summer – don’t you love it?
I’ve also just realised how far it is from Birmingham to Caernarfon.

A successful talk in Rustington tonight, followed by beer, in a blogging birthday kinda way, with Paul F, Ian, Sacha, Lord Percy and Lady Bren, spectating on the karaoke in Chicago Rocks.
Now home, listening to tonight’s excellent Peel show on Radio 1.

United States politics update:

• Californian gubernatorial recall vote delayed. BBC coverage. Sacramento Bee: Analysis – postponement could benefit Davis most. California Insider considers the short term implications.
• Wesley Clark to run for President. BBC News profile. Washington Post coverage.

This game is bug hard.

Votes have been coming in thick and fast on the grayblog header poll. "Railings" is ahead by some margin, although I suspect some ballot stuffing by Lord Percy, with "Warning" leading the peloton. "Palm House Door" is currently in line for the wooden spoon, which is a sorry state of affairs.
Voting open until Friday, 5pm. Get voting!

Hmm. So much for the masked superhero:

BBC news article.

Angle Grinder Man home page.

WhoIs lookup:

    Domain Name:
        anglegrinderman.co.uk

    Registrant:
           Alan Jeffery

    Registrant's Address:
        57 Heron Way
        Walderslade
        Chatham
        ME5 7RL
        GB

Three years ago today, I wrote:

I think it is still something like that. Near enough.

Happy third birthday, Grayblog.

A long but very good day in the company of my cousin, Gemma. Food was eaten, alcohol imbibed, shops toured and art appraised. Pooped now, but I made my train ok. Full report tomorrow.

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!

R Kelly’s career compared to dodo.

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.

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.

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…!

Slang – Dirtwater Telegraph. Worth watching.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

John Ritter, 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.

The Man In Black, RIP.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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!

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.

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?

Leni Riefenstahl, RIP.

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.

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!).

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 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.

Duck everyone – we’ve been spotted.

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.

Horticultural humour from b3ta:

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.

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.

New(ish) Weebl. Fabulous.

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

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.

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.

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.

Cyborg Heifers From Outer Space.

Pure class.

Film. Window Media. Big download. Worth it.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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)!

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!

Peter West, RIP.

We’re all going to DIE!!

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.

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.

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

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

Bomb Bandits.

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!

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.

Charles Bronson, RIP.

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.

Wah! Someone has got to this site by searching for things related to my work! Yipes! Must get the Plants For Europe site proper online PDQ!

I only caught the last 30 minutes or so of tonight’s live broadcast of Global House Connection, but I reckon it was one of the best I’ve heard yet. If I get time tomorrow evening (doubtful), I might listen to the whole show from the archive.

Remember this stuff?

I think we used to call it "arrow grass" or "dart grass" as kids. I’m sure that you were just the same as me, and used to pull the heads off the plant and throw them at friends. They always stuck best to woollen sweaters – they were hopeless on cotton and polyester shirts. I seem to remember some story along the lines that the one that you would marry was the person who you could get these things to stick to. But then I’ve heard that about cleavers too, and it never worked for me. Not yet anyway.

I should be working, or preparing lunch, or doing some laundry, or tidying the flat, or going for a walk or something. But, no, I’m working on posting some pictures here for your delectation. Don’t say that I don’t look after you.

Butterfly on ragwort, spotted as I strolled by the harbour on the hottest day of the year.

A decaying hulk by the boatyard at Dell Quay. I may go back and take more pictures of this on another day.

Chichester Harbour, looking west from near Copperas Point towards Oldpark Wood. Anyone that tells you that Chichester Harbour is not one of the most beautiful places in the country is talking pants.

Trees at the high water line, where Salterns Copse meets the briny. The roots seem to be clinging on for dear life to the banks of the channel here, and make fantastic shapes as they struggle.

Knapweed growing near Copperas Point. There was a huge patch of this plant, that was attracting a large number of small bumblebees.

Reedmace growing in the canal west of Crosbie Bridge at Donnington. The world and its wife (including me) usually calls this plant "bullrush", but strictly speaking that is something else entirely.

Without wishing to turn this site into a bloglog, I would like to point out that Ian is "creating new web content" over at his site after a lengthy-ish period of quiet, which is a good thing. Bizarrely, I got this news from a bloke on the other side of the planet and not a more local source. But, you know, distance is nothing in the age of zeros and ones.

International Power in talks to buy Drax. Drax? International Power?? It’s a trap! Clearly the work of Blofeld or SPECTRE! Where’s 007 when you need him?
(Related: Drax homepage).

I think I may be becoming impossible. This is, at once, a good thing and a very bad thing. Hey ho.
Anyway, very late beer with Kearn and Greg, with sightings of Kristian, Stein and Nicky. Yay! Home is where the beer is.

I meant to tell you about a couple I passed in South Street the other day. They were in their 40s, him in a sweater and chinos, she in a red summer dress. They were walking towards me, and as they passed, she said to him:

Hmm.

I can’t decide what to comment on this morning – the desire of the New York Times to have the transcripts of the emergency calls of trapped people in the WTC on September 11 2001, or the desire of Christina, Britney and Madge to grab as many column inches as possible by having a girly snog on stage at the MTV awards.
So I think I’ll say nothing and leave you to draw your own conclusions, whilst I prepare for a day of meetings and visits.

qB and I are linked. How odd.

Power cut hits transport in London.

Ummm. I think the Blitz spirit was more than people just talking to each other!

Making Fiends. Question not thine clams, nor thine jerk-ed beef.

The Venus Project – working towards a utopian future, apparently. But you have to love those designs for homes, buildings and transportation – it’s like The Jetsons!

You’ve been over to Warp Records and checked out the latest material by Broadcast and Prefuse 73, haven’t you? Good.

Chichester’s Mayor, Cllr Jean Lebourlier-Woods, has responded to the deaths of three members of the Royal Military Police, which has its headquarters in the city, by saying:

What?? These soldiers were not even based in the city. The Mayor almost certainly never met them. This is the worst sort of sound-bite statement you could imagine.
It is utterly correct that the Mayor should speak on behalf of the city council and the city people to express our condolences. It is also right that flags in the city should be at half mast, as a mark of respect to the dead and their families. But it is not right that we should have such pitifully trite pronouncements from the appointed leader of the local government.

An all-day meeting. Useful, productive, tiring. To be followed tomorrow by a trip to the dentist and then another all-day meeting. Phew.

It seems that some explanation of my route to Holland is required (it isn’t that exciting, so you can switch off now, if you like). I’m travelling to Holmes Chapel in Cheshire on Tuesday afternoon and staying over in a local Travelodge. It’s a five hour journey from Chichester, with train changes at Reading and Crewe. On Wednesday, I’ll be attending the Four Oaks horticultural trade show. I’ll leave there late afternoon, then travel by taxi (via the hotel to pick up my bags) to Winsford station to take a train to Runcorn, and then a bus to Liverpool John Lennon Airport, and then fly to Amsterdam Schiphol airport, where I’ll meet Mike who will have travelled in from Gatwick.
Now, if you’ve bothered to click on the links, you might wonder why I’m not taking advantage of the free shuttle bus between the trade show and Manchester airport. Simple – EasyJet will fly me from Liverpool to Amsterdam for £35. From Manchester, I have a choice of KLM (£285) or BA (£335). So a fairly easy choice to make, really.

I’ve just been outside to look at Mars, low in the southern sky. You can’t miss it – it’s a bright, pinkish-tinted "star", easily visible even near street lamps.
I’ve also just deleted an email from my hotmail account from someone responding to my CV – without reading it first. D’oh! Not that I’m looking for a job, of course, but I’d have been interested to read it anyway.

Windows news: I now have a complete set of drawings ready to submit to the planning office, along with a full set of forms, thanks to David. All they need before being submitted is several examples of Frannie’s signature and mine as well. And the small matter of £110.00.
Hopefully, I’ll get all those signatures over the weekend, and then submit the forms on Monday before I disappear off to Holland via Cheshire.

Busy busy, as usual.

Apologies for the continuing intermittent service at this site. I’m in the process of nailing my hosting provider to the nearest tree. Please bear with us and don’t go away!

My site is dead again. Why? Grr!

Beer tonight with Greg and Arron in the Slug and W2, with sightings of Terry, the hard-working Rachel and the in-need-of-a-good-wind-down, chill-and-relax, Kristian. Ok?

Yay! Back online! I’m off to the pub.

How handy. A consumers’ guide to the new 118 directory enquiries numbers.

Possibly the best 2lmc spool post I’ve yet seen.

Bad day at the office? Try this little calming site.
And, yes, I know that the site is down and I’m talking to myself. I will move to 34sp, although I’m buried in work at the moment. Maybe if I stay up all night, I’ll get it done?

Today, I’m bringing new meaning to the word "busy". Expect quiet.

New Weebl.

via the wonder that is Fraser and B3ta, I give you Korean people playing dead, which is, apparently, the latest craze to sweep the nation that brought you urinal tourism. In particular, I want to draw your attention to these images:

Death by washing machine.

Death by children’s play equipment.

Death by urinal.

Death by bus and feather duster (by far my favourite).

A most enjoyable afternoon in the company of Greg, exploring the Arundel Festival Fringe Gallery Trail with a view to finding a suitable venue for his prints next year. Looks like we’ve made a good start on that, and also picked up details of a forthcoming event in Chichester that should be relevant to the cause.

Brighton win, or perhaps it would be more fair to say that Luton lost. And Brighton did better than they did on saturday. And don’t mention the cricket, either the Test or the National League. OK?

Santa Ballz – a good puzzle game, if not very seasonal.

Greg Dyke announces plans to put entire BBC programme archive online as a free resource for non-commercial use. I’m sure this has lots of implications, not least for the demand for faster broadband access (I mean faster than BT’s service – should soon be working at four times BT’s service at work) and the demand for big hard drives! My first impression is that this is a good thing, provided that there will be access to more than just the cheap entertainment programmes. On the other hand, I’m concerned about what this means for competition in the media.

I forgot to post the piece I wrote on my laptop whilst sitting at Schiphol on Friday afternoon. Here it is:

Currently sat in Schiphol airport, having arrived in even more plentiful time than I normally allow for airport departures, largely at the behest of my travelling companion, Mike, who quite possibly fears missing flights even more than I do. Anyway, he’s gone off to find an internet terminal to check his mail whilst we wait, so I’m sitting here using Notepad for a quick "Dear Diary" session. Yeh, I know – I need that WiFi card. Uh-huh.

Well, Holland is easy for the non-Dutch speaker (like me) – just about everyone is fluent in English, and those that are not are able to make themselves understood.
Most annoying thing on this trip has been the death of my camera battery, so I have taken no photos at all, either useful or entertaining. Bum clouds. Oh well, we’re back here in two weeks, so I’ll have that fixed by then.

The trip itself has been very useful. My understanding of the Dutch market is vastly improved, and it seems a little less complicated than it first appeared. It is a very complicated and congested network, with some very complicated and hard-to-understand relationships going on, but there are some simpler and more transparent solutions to doing business with Dutch horticulture, which comes as a relief to me, lacking, at present, a really trustworthy Dutch partner.

The Dutch love extras, including:

• €25 extra for breakfast per person per day at the hotel (this is turning into something of an expensive jaunt – ok, it’s on PFE, and I saved a fair bit by flying EasyJet, but even so).
• Commission on sales. And on purchases. But make sure that neither party knows that the other is also paying.
• Extra strong coffee – this is a good thing, of course.

The Dutch also love their tobacco. Of all the countries that I have travelled to in the last few years, conspicuous consumption of tobacco is more prevalent here than anywhere else. I’m sitting having coffee here now, and I’m surrounded by chain-smokers of all ages, largely but not exclusively businesspeople. In contrast, at Gatwick the smokers are corralled into a small enclosed area, and are not even furnished with seats.

And it’s not called the Low Countries for nothing. Low isn’t the word. I’d hate to have to dig a trench for a cable of anything – it must fill with water as soon as you turn your back. Mind you, on a plus side, cycling here must be great, as it is so flat, if a little boring, as the roads and cycleways are so straight.

The other impression I have come away with is that the Dutch are generally physically imposing. I don’t mean that they are all Aphrodite and Adonis. Nor are they large and fat, as so many American citizens are. Instead, they just have "presence", even those that are not very tall. Whether that stems from a strong self-confidence, which sometimes verges on arrogance, I’m not sure. But it is quite pervasive and a little intimidating – I’ve had to be in full-on confident mode, which, as the very few who truly know me will be aware, is all a bit of a front.

Anyway, Mike’s back now, on his mobile telling his wife about the cat that followed us most of the way from the restaurant to the hotel last night, so it’s time for me to stop listening to Andy Votel on the headphones and pack my electronic travelling companion/lapwarmer away, and shift myself, my bags and the hundredweight or two of brochures, leaflets and business cards collected over the two days we were at Plantarium (you can stop the Patrick Moore gags right now!) towards gate D12 and a white and orange 737 bound for Gatwick, home and the pub.

Beer this evening, witnessing Ted playing blues in the Nags (very good too), then in W2 with Arron, Matt, Cat and Justine.

I’m listening to Test Match Special. Henry Blofeld and Graeme Fowler are doing the commentary. They are both, undoubtedly, pissed. Foxy Fowler has just made a very near-the-knuckle comment about policemen’s helmets.

Three British soldiers killed in Basra – soldiers of the RMP, which has its headquarters in Chichester.

Boo. Brighton lose, 1-0. gah.

A rather attractive worm game.

Baghdad Burning – a new Iraqi blog. Looks like it should be worth reading. via Stuart, who, correctly I believe, predicts much fuss about this site in the next few days.

Apparently, the author of this weblog is female, according to this gizmo. Wrong-o. (via Marcia).

Food for thought:

• Forty years ago this week, 250,000 people marched on and rallied at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC to demand equal rights for America’s black citizens. There they heard Martin Luther King deliver his "I have a dream" speech, one of the greatest orations in modern history. (BBC coverage of the anniversary). Undoubtedly, this event had a profound impact on public and government opinion, and, along with the other events and protests that took place during that time, led to real change.
• In February this year, somewhere between three and eight times as many people marched in London against the war in Iraq. (BBC coverage). Other rallies and marches were held across the UK and around the world. In terms of sheer numbers of people, these events dwarfed King’s March for Freedom. Yet did they really make any difference?

Meanwhile, woo and yay, as Brighton sign a very good striker and go top of Division 2. Sporting news is good round our way.

Yay, although it’ll never last.

Oh, and there is a medium length report on my laptop. When I can be arsed…

Am pissed as fart. Incomplete report promised for the morning. In the meantime…. bzzzzzzzzzz.

Too tired to write here. And lots of work things to think about.
But Alphen aan den Rijn is a pleasant if unexciting small town, the centre of which we explored this evening, concentrating our explorations on a tapas restaurant by the river. I’m full.

Been busy at the Plantarium exhibition today. Back there tomorrow. I’m pooped.

And my Easyspace mail server is still down. Grr. And I’m not going to attempt a migration whilst out of the country.

Safely ensconced in our hotel in Alphen aan den Rijn (I’ve travelled with one of my business backers), and, thankfully, no trace of my stalker (don’t ask). And, as you can tell, I’ve successfully hooked up to the net. Good ol’ Net2Roam.

Was it really necessary to interview someone called Flash for this article?

I’m getting very fed up with Easyspace again. Now their email servers are arsing around. As soon as I get a bit of time (don’t laugh), I’ll be moving lock, stock and barrel to 34sp.com.

In other news, I’m off to Holland this afternoon to go to a trade show. Mission – to seek potential licensees, a European micropropagator and to further increase my understanding and knowledge of the market on the continent. If there are any new variety opportunities, then I’ll look into those too, although I am not sure that this event is likely to show up any of those. I’ll also be looking to sample local beverages as well. And, before Arseblogger asks, I’ll not be bringing anything back – well, nothing that would be of interest to him anyway!
I shall be back in the UK on Friday evening, so expect only sporadic updates between now and then.

Beer tonight at the Nags to celebrate Dave’s 50th birthday, with Paul F, Ruth, Hamish, Sally, Malcolm, Ted, Sasha and countless other good people. I suspect the party, which has already been running for three days, has some life left in it yet.

Ok, kiddies, it’s that time of year again: the 12th Chichester Film Festival. 9 English premieres, 3 UK premieres, international film short competition, Australian film season, World cinema season, East Asian cinema season, late night "Xtreme" cinema, a Bertrand Tavernier retrospective, a Luchino Visconti retrospective and the London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival On Tour. Top stuff.
On my watch-if-I-can list:

• Jeremy Hardy v The Israeli Army
• Cypher
• Camp
• Crackerjack
• Petites Coupures
• Goyangireul batakhae
• Koroshiya Ichi
• Der Amerikanische Freund
• L.627
• L’Appat
• Rocco e i suoi fratelli
• Il Gattopardo

Admittedly, we all know that I’ll never get to see all of these. A lot of them will be screened during the day, and for part of the time I will be out of the county, even out of the country. But if I get to even one or two, I will be very pleased indeed.

From my email inbox:

When Penn says she is giving up BMWs, champagne and Waitrose, she means it. I am soooooooo proud of her, she never ceases to amaze me. If you can help her in any way, then I’ll be proud of you too. Either hit the email link above, or contact me and I’ll pass the details on.
And, in case you are wondering, getting Penn to pose in a t-shirt would definitely be a good thing!

Lonely heart Lord meets woman. Aha! All becomes clear! The way to a girl’s heart is through a 71 bedroom stately home! Why didn’t I realise this before? This is obviously the key to success with the opposite sex.
Maybe I should look for a woman with a 71 bedroom home?

Brighton 2 – QPR 1. Brighton go top of Division 2. Long way to go yet, though.

181 update. There seems to be a bloke in addition to the blonde woman, so no chance for me to shark in there. looks like he is dealing with the important job of setting up the TV. Looks like they are putting it in the same place as their predecessors, so I’ll get a nice view of it from here, and if Frannie upstairs has the same channel on, I’ll get audio as well.

Anyone going to Cocteaufest? And could anyone have thought of a less tacky name for it?

Read this – Tom seeks his father. Or at least contemplates seeking him.
Both of my parents are still very much alive, still married, and have lived in the same area since the Second World War. I see them both almost every day, and have done for all of my life. Whilst sometimes that can be a bit crowded and lead to family friction, I think I’d find it very strange if they weren’t around. But then I have never known anything different, and perhaps, when that time comes, I will find new dimensions to life that I hadn’t previously discovered or explored. Then again, their absence may just leave a big hole. Either way, I hope that the day when that becomes reality is a long way off.

I forgot to link to this the other day: Telegraph interview with Haruki Murakami.

This evening, I purchased a CD, the first in weeks and purely on a Wallpaper recommendation. Andy Votel’s Music To Watch Girls Cry, which, so far, seems excellent, bizarre, amusing and diverse, all in one.

A bald man and a young girl, presumably his daughter, have just posted a short note through my door.

Sad. I bet that girl is really upset. Actually, I wouldn’t mind betting her Dad is upset too.

Hot to pick up a really hot babe. How handy!

Been all over East Sussex and Kent today, collecting illegal signs before I get into trouble for them.

Big excitement in Orchard Street this evening. I thought that 181 had been withdrawn from the market, but this morning a large removal lorry drew up outside and packs and boxes were being packed into it as I left for work. This evening, two smaller vans are outside, and packs and boxes are being moved into the building. Notably, a very attractive blonde is also carrying packages in.
I shall be monitoring this situation closely. Might be time to call on Frannie, as I reckon I could get a better view from upstairs.

The boy did good…
BBC Sport – England win Test.
BBC Sport – dream debut for Kirtley.
Wisden verdict.
Cricinfo profile of R J Kirtley – needs updating with the result of this Test.

Long hard day at Pashley today. The event was depressed by the lack of recent rain, but was still moderately successful. I’m pooped.

Phew! Sussex win against third-placed Lancashire with just ten balls to spare, and are only five points behind Surrey in the County Championship.

Tomorrow, I shall be at the Pashley Manor Gardens Summer Plant Fair at Pashley Manor, Ticehurst, East Sussex. It’s open from 11am to 5pm, so drop in if you’re nearby and say hello. As organiser, I have to leave here at 5am so that can be there early enough to have everything set up for the participants. Consequently, I’m off to bed now.

Lemmings game, via Darren.

BBC Sport Blowers commentary game – only ever likely to appeal to TMS fans.

Gah! Just realised my AFF team is illegal, as I have three Liverpool players – the rules say only two players from any one team. I’d forgotten that Harry Kewell is at Liverpool now. So John Arne Riise has gone, and Mario Melchiot has been drafted in.
And Todorov’s injury has proven to be more serious than first thought – he’s going to be out for the whole season. Disaster! So I’ll be at the head of the queue for transfers, which are embargoed until September 1st. Gah!

Still, good to see James Kirtley in the wickets at the Test Match.

Long day at work today.
Beer tonight with Bren, Greg, Kate, Sarah, Paul, Jo, Kev, Andrea, Hamish, Ruth and lots more. Need sleep.

Widespread power cuts in the US. Solar flare?
UPDATE: According to the New York Times, the Niagra Mohawk grid was overloaded and collapsed. My dad has just called to discuss it (my parents are like that), and he wasn’t taken in by my solar flare theory – plausible, but unlikely, was his verdict. He reckons one section of the grid collapsed, which led to neighbouring sections also failing. And, in case you wonder how he might know, he worked in the electricity supply industry for 43 years.
Either way, this is a systems failure on a massive scale. Reports I’m reading right now speak of black outs extending from Maryland to Toronto and from Detroit to New York city. That’s an awfully big area, with a lot of people and businesses. And the people stuck on the New York subway right now must be really panicking.
Note also that the web seems to be holding up, in spite of the fact that a large number of nodes will be without power at the moment. Either that or their gennies are holding up.
HISTORICAL NOTE: this event is not without precedent: 1965, when a single relay failure in Ontario caused power failures over an area almost identical to today’s blackout, and 1977, when four lightning strikes in New York caused blackout within the city.

The Nursery Arms XI returns:

I’m not entering the Telegraph Fantasy Football game this year, just Andi’s (so you’ll know what AFF means when I mention it, won’t you?), in which I got to the quarter finals in the Cup last season.
This year’s team raises the following questions (feel free to post answers, and perhaps your own questions, in the comments):

• Will Arsenal be any good this year? Everyone seems ready to write them off, but I’m not so sure.
• Will Wayne Bridge get any matches? Chelsea seems now to be full of so many good players that they can’t possibly all get a run-out every week.
• Will Todorov be up to Premiership standard? He was awesome in the First Division, but this is a whole new league (haha!). I also note that he was injured in training today.
• Will Beattie have to play second fiddle to Phillips at Southampton – or will they be the dream team?
• And, as they said when they sold me that endowment policy, past performance is no guide to future returns. So which young gun should I have picked?

Snow leopards under threat. These are amongst the most beautiful of all animals. If you’ve ever been lucky enough to see one, even if, like me, it was in a zoo, you begin to wonder why anyone would want to have a dead one on their floor.

New Weebl, just to wind up Brian.

Useful meeting with my bank manager this afternoon. We covered the key business issues of the latest cricket scores and where the best places are to drink in Chichester.
Oh, and I got him to reduce my bank charges.

Well, the good news is that England have finally given Sussex bowler James Kirtley a chance to play for his country in the latest Test that starts today. The bad news is that he will not be available for Sussex’s crucial County Champsionship game against Lancashire – I just hope we do better in the five day format than we did in the one day version.

Arnie must surely be unbeatable now in the Californian gubernatorial elections as he signs a pact with Warren Buffett, creating a victory-guaranteeing Democrat-Republican alliance. Aside from the cross-party support this will help him to attract, it will also reinforce his credentials as a serious candidate, although he does possess a degree in business and economics, and was a successful businessman before he was ever famous in Hollywood. The LA Times has more.
Meanwhile, the final list of candidates has been revealed, and voters can expect a very long ballot paper with 135 names to choose from.

For all test card anoraks everywhere… testcards from around the world.

New header graphic, composed using a photo I took of the roof line of the main shopping mall in downtown Sacramento. I’ve also revised the page layout at the top there, so comments welcome.

Pictures from my recent trip to California:

Fog on the bay, viewed from San Francisco airport.

California State Capitol, Sacramento.

Collonade on the south side of the State Capitol.

View upwards within the Rotunda of the State Capitol.

Capitol Park, Sacramento (note how bright the sun was).

Historic buildings in Sacramento Old Town.

The main shopping mall in Sacramento. I had to look at that shop sign three times before I realised that it said Aerosoles, not Arseholes.

Bumclouds.
Well, I suspected that something wasn’t going my way, and I was right. Oh well.
Still, best just to plough on regardless. Must get on with building PFE’s website…
And I do have a session of being the centre of attention of lovely young ladies in the hair salon to look forward to this afternoon.

Today is Left Handers’ Day. A good opportunity for the world’s largest minority group to be acknowledged and thought about, perhaps?

Fascinating article on the ISO paper sizes and paper sizes in North America (picked up via Bifurcated Rivets). I have to deal with the whole A4/Letter problem quite frequently when dealing with American businesses. If only they adopted the much more logical A, B and C series of paper sizes.

Brighton won in spite of Steve Coppell’s blunt talking. Meanwhile, Brighton are in initial talks with Andrei Kanchelskis over a short term deal. I’m not sure that this is "new" news though – I’m sure it’s been rumoured before.

Be warned. I’m slightly tetchy this morning. One or two things don’t seem to be going my way.
Meanwhile, although it may be less hot that it was, it’s still too hot (obligatory blog content about the weather).

Ok, now I’m annoyed. My new white trousers that I purchased in Sacramento (that were not inexpensive, I might add) have lost a button in the washing machine on only their second wash. I can’t find it in the drum or in the lint trap, and I know it was there when they went in as I made a point of doing the button up to hold the top of the trousers together. Fortunately, they came with a spare, but even so. Grrr.

Me? King of one line posting? As if!

Biggup to my lovely friend Penn, who is going away to Nepal in a few weeks to teach English for a charity working there. Wow! She’ll be looking for donations for the charity too – details when I get them.

There has been a fair bit of discussion recently about an article that was posted on the BBC website by Bill Thompson. I thought it was rubbish, and regurgitated arguments that we’ve all heard since …. well, I’m sure they were around a week after the first "blog" was called that.
Anyway, go take a look at what Tom writes on the subject, and also the (mostly) valuable comment discussion that follows from his piece. I think I agree with pretty much all that is said there.

Steve Coppell, Brighton and Hove Albion’s manager, just had this to say on BBC South in advance of tonight’s first round Carling Cup match against Third Division Bristol City:

Well, that might be true Steve, and we know the club needs the money to fight its planning battles for the new stadium, but is that the sort of pep talk that the players and fans want to hear?
Actually, I think all that does is raise the question of just how much desire Coppell has to stay with the team. We need him more than he needs us.

Karen and Pete had a mainly justified gripe over at their site about things that make blogging content bad. I’ll admit to being occasionally (often?) guilty of the first two. In the case of the first (unexplained links), I’m going to endeavour to include at least a little information about the links I post here, although you may need to mouseover to get it. In the case of the second (listing all the people I’ve seen in the pub, or wherever), I’ll carry on as before, as that is an integral part of this site and I think I’d get complaints from some readers (namely those who are named). Besides, this site is partly a personal (if public) diary, and I include those minutiae for my own benefit as much as for you lot.
So there. I’ve justified the continuing bad content here.

How handy.

Top marks to the Dutch railways for having the best online timetable and fares query service I’ve ever seen.

I hear through the Gregvine that Wendy is not well. So, biggup to Wendy – we’re all thinking about you. And whilst you’re ailing, make sure that idle bloke you hang around with is doing the housework, ok?

It’s so hot that my blogging mojo is broken. Or something. Anyway, I’ve not gone away, I’m just wilting.
But today was slightly useful, as Greg and I erected (phnaar) a pair of his "Baby" prints in the Slug and Lettuce. Go and see them – now! And then purchase one! Right away!
Anyway, they’re fab, so do go take a look.
After that, I met Kate for lunch and then we toured the nursery, selecting plants for her garden. She hasn’t seen my family in ages, so that was a good thing.

Dead Kenny gets his special needs attended to. Hmm.
Must admit that Stockholm is on my list of must-visit places. But then I’ve been loudly promising myself a holiday (and by that I mean actually travelling to somewhere and not working!) for so long that you must all be very fed up with it by now. A return visit to Lisbon would be fabulous, and perhaps a good idea once the temperatures have dropped. Otherwise, Rome, Prague, Paris and Stockholm are all near the top of the list.
All I need is the cash, the time and maybe some company.

What is it that they say about mad dogs and Englishmen? On the hottest day ever (it’s official, apparently), I walked nearly ten miles, going from home to Fishbourne, following the harbour wall to Dell Quay and the yacht basin, and then took the canal tow path to bring me back to the city. I got through a load of water as I walked, and although the tow path is quite shady, as I got further away from the cooling effect of the harbour, it became noticably hotter.
But a great walk, nonetheless. I’ve taken some pictures and will display a few here at some point.

Yesterday in convenient bullet point summary:

• drove over to Percy Towers in Bren’s Renault – actualy quite a nice car, although I hate to admit that I enjoyed driving a Renault.
• Pimms and barbequed steak sarnies with Bren and Greg in the garden – most splendid.
• taxi into town for Bognor Live. A woefully under-promoted event, it was actually pretty good, with some good local bands on, some of whom clearly have a solid following. However, the location in the grounds of the Royal Norfolk was not ideal (why wasn’t it on the prom?) and the turn-out was feeble. Worst of all was the sound quality, which was just dire, and detracted from the event considerably. Verdict: could do much better.
• taxi back to Chichester with Paul F to the Nags for Paul S’s birthday bash, which featured an excellent band and very large quantities of alcohol. Loads of people were there, notably Fi, Jules, Arron and all the Nags regulars. After going on to Paul S’s house for an extra late drink, complete with the spectacle of Jules being thrown into the tub fully clothed, I staggered home.

Today’s plan: laundry, shopping and a walk down to the harbour.

Brighton win. Yay!

Top marks to Idesign, average age 15, who are putting on a great set here in spite of the worst sound mixing ever.

Could Be Good have just kicked arse on stage at Bognor Live. As you might expect.

Hmm. Bognor Live. 300 people tops at the moment. Not exactly kicking. Hopefully may improve. Actually can’t fail to improve.

Pimms. Sun. Mmmmmm.

Phew blimey, it’s hot. Today I shall be enjoying a barbeque at Percy Towers, followed by heading into Bognor for live music.

As I was driving back from East Sussex yesterday, I passed a DeLorean. You don’t see many of them these days. And I’ll bet the driver is careful never to exceed 88mph.

How To Draw The Nipples Back On Victoria’s Secret Catalog Models Using Adobe Photoshop. via flabber.nl

First match of the new Nationwide season tomorrow – Brighton are away to Oldham. Most pundits reckon Brighton will be one of the heavyweight teams in Division Two, particularly with the loan of Knight from Chelsea. How the team fares without Bobby Zamora remains to be seen, but I think we should be at least be play-off candidates.

Beer and food with Bren and Greg, with sightings of Kristian, Joel, Hamish, Ruth, Terry and Dave. Had planned to meet Fi, but she just called to say she was delayed by a couple of evil bottles of wines. It happens. As I was speaking to her on the phone, three people walked past my flat carrying a mattress.

Not long home from work, and already it is time from the pub. To use a quotation I heard earlier today, I’m burning the midnight oil at both ends.

Not sure I can even be bothered to comment on this. What a pretentious, pointless, piss-poorly organised waste of time. Clearly the whole "cult" is aimed at bloggers and other geeky sorts. Surely the majority that fall into this category have more useful things to do with their time?

Today, I shall be driving around East Sussex and Kent, putting up illegal signs. So expect quiet.

I’ve known for a couple of days, but the "official" email went out this morning, so I guess I can go public now – my loveliest, bestest friend in all the world, Sarah, has got engaged to Paul. This is fantastic news, and I’m stupidly happy for them both! The wedding is planned for September 2004 and will, undoubtedly, be the social event of the year.

Crumbs, there aren’t too many of us single ones left now!

Hot curry + hot evening = hot Graybo.

More California recall vote links (yes, I’m fascinated by this story – it’s interesting to compare and contrast with UK and EU politics):

• San Francisco Chronicle – watch the straw poll on their homepage
• San Diego Union-Tribune
• USA Today
• New York Times, with extended coverage
• Washington Post, also with extended coverage, including this article by David S Broder that claims that American democracy "will get a black eye". Not sure I agree with that. Certainly, the fact that the Californian system permits a recall vote, giving the opportunity to remove a failing incumbent, is more advanced than the British system, where only a breakdown in loyalty within the ruling party can provide that opportunity, and even then rarely leads to a change in the governing party.

Last week, I visited the State Capitol building in Sacramento, and viewed both chambers from their viewing galleries. It is hard to imagine that that peaceful and dignified building could be the scene for the level of intrigue that is currently taking place.

Compost Radio provided by Milk Audio. Two hours of good music.

That’ll be a trackball then.

I’ve just had a call transferred internally at the offices of FridayAd, a south-east free newspaper. The internal ringing tone would be great with a drum n bass sample over it. I wish I had the kit to record it – Ibiza stardom, fame and fortune surely awaits!

Meg posts some handy cartoon links.

Following on from this BBC article, take a look at the Save Britain’s Heritage site and also the Farnborough Air Sciences Trust Association site.
It’s good to see that some of these landmark sites are being talked about and preserved, but a lot of lesser and minor places are not. In Chichester, there has been much talk in recent years about demolishing the bus station and bus garage to make way for redevelopment. Whilst neither building is conventionally attractive, both have a certain charm – they are heavy, brick-built 1950s buildings, the bus garage notable for its concrete wavy roofline – a familiar landmark as you arrive in Chichester by train from the east. Another is the railway station ticket hall, about which I’ve written here before – an elegant late 50s "White Heat" structure that is slowly decaying through lack of care and misguided attempts at maintenance. The trouble is, because they are not romantic buidings or classically beautiful, and because they were built within the lifetime of many of the people that are responsible for their preservation, few people care about them. But they are distinctive, emblematic of the period and have been a feature of the lives of local people and people passing through the city for half a century.
Just how do you balance the need for modernity with the need to preserve?

Busy busy again today. And finding that, no matter what the organisation is that I call, the person I want to speak to isn’t in the office. Soaking up the sun in the park, I suspect.

"I’ll be back". Arnie to run for California governor after all….

• BBC
• Sacramento Bee
• California Insider weblog
• LA Times
• Variety (subscription needed), with the headline that everyone predicted: "Now it’s Total Recall".

Today has been a great day – productive, fun, enjoyable and filled with good mood, good news and even a bit of good company. I’m pooped. Time for bed.
Must be the sun or something. Does it release chemicals in your head that make you feel good? Anyone know anything about this sort of stuff?

I’m in a very very good mood. Must be the weather or something.

Marine Accident Investigation Branch advises: always wear bicycle clips when onboard ship.

Right. I’m off for a pint of something cold.

Busy busy.

Um, riiiight. Can anyone shed some light on this one?

Don Estelle, RIP.

Beer with Greg. Bzzzz.

I’ve been a fan of Beyond Northern Iraq for some time, not least for Stuart’s admirable fortitude and even levity in the face of adversity.
But don’t you think the logo of Radio BNI looks like the logo of a certain other online radio station? Shouldn’t complain, I guess, as it is a public image and not a particularly original idea, but .. well, you know.

Buslog? Omniblog? Double decker blogging?

I think the internet is melting. Nothing seems to be working properly. An excuse for beer, methinks. Ok, a lame excuse, but excuses for beer need be no better than lame.

Busy. Hence quiet.
I could get started on the whole David Kelly/Walter Mitty thing, but my ire is being subdued by the heat and my workload.

New Weebl.

Have you noticed how many of the BBC’s "In Pictures" articles appeal to the tabloid senses?
The super soaraway Beeb?
(Not forgetting factual inaccuracy here, kids: Brighton is in East Sussex, not West Sussex).

Gosh, it’s hot. But I refuse to turn this into a weatherlog. Besides, it is considerably cooler than Sacramento.
Gradually ticking off jobs on the to-do list, although I’ve been picking the quick and easy ones so far.

A well thought-out article from the BBC looking at the reasons behind falling CD sales.

My "to do" list is getting longer, not shorter this morning. Running to stand still sums up the day so far. I think the rest of the week will be like this. Maybe even the rest of life.

Also challenging.

Challenging.

And I need to launder these white trousers. They don’t half show the dirt, but I love them.

I’m on the train heading home from Brighton, having spent most of the last 24 hours in the company of two of the finest people I know and a small group of their friends, for the purpose of celebrating Charlie’s birthday. The party was wonderfully relaxed and low key, and I surprised myself by finding the energy and stamina to battle jetlag and last the course. This morning, Peeeet rustled up breakfast and lunch whilst we lazed and watched the cricket. All of us were a little the worse for wear – like my body really needs another food and drink extravaganza! I’m now off home to do some thrilling laundry and maybe head to the park for some sun and soul food, as I’m feeling a little disspirited. Perhaps I’ve been travelling alone too much, or enjoyed too much alcohol lately. Either way, maudlin is setting in.

Challenge for Dead Kenny: find a link to the cover story on the current issue of Trash magazine that goes under the headline “Cheryl Tweedy: Girl Aloud – I’d do anything for fame!” The mind boggles.

NOTE: this is the long post I’ve been carrying about on the laptop…

Well, the last day of my trip. After a stroll around the State Capitol building with the guys here (pictures will be posted in due course) and sending them on their way back to Santa Barbara, I went for a stroll down to Esoteric Records (hmm, not *that* esoteric. Clearly standards on this vary internationally. Maybe we need an international code on esoterocity [is that a word?] that could award points on a scale of one to ten. This store would have rated three, by my reckoning, which is better than the record store in the main Downtown Mall that would only have got a one) and then walked around the green and leafy Capitol Park, before going back to the hotel to check out at the last available minute and get a cab to the airport.

Bit suspicious of the cab driver. He was a quiet, older Indian man, driving a battered eighties Volvo. He took my credit card details on an old style hand-written slip. But then we do that back home, so maybe I shouldn’t be so sensitive, and he did have an apparently pukka Sacramento licence badge and car plate. The concierge at the Hyatt seemed to recognise him too. Unless they have a scam running. Hmm. I think I’ll check my business credit card online when I get back to the office. And does every city have a company called Crown Taxis?

Anyhow, I’ve checked in at Sacramento International, and have no problems on my seat, or my seat through from LA to Heathrow, although the plane is full again and there is no chance of an upgrade. But a seat is a seat, and at least it means that I should get back in time to go to Charlie’s party tomorrow night. Goodness knows what state I’ll be in.
Either way, I should be able to wear my groovy new clothes. Clothes are generally cheaper here, as you probably know, so I took the opportunity to make my bank balance US$150 lighter by means of two Claiborne t-shirts (how come you never see Claiborne menswear in England? Liz Claiborne ladies stuff is everywhere), one white and one black, and a white linen long-sleeve shirt and a pair of white trousers from Banana Republic. Trust me on the trousers, ok? The girls thought they were "way cool" when I showed them, although, admittedly, they verge slightly on the Beckham style. Anyway, I’ll wear them to Charlie’s bash and see what the verdict is. One thing is for sure – they’ll show the dirt.

Sacramento International – well, it’s a runway stuck about 12 miles from downtown Sacramento (hence US$35 taxi ride – should have taken the Shuttle that is only $15). In every respect, it makes real the charicature of the typical American domestic airport – flat, unexciting landscape beyond the runway; low, unexciting fifties and sixties buildings that have been refurbished in grey and anonymous nineties style; hoardes of primarily WASP Americans, of all shapes and sizes, drifting around the departure lounge with vacant expressions, or, alternatively, trying desperately to look cool. There are fewer of the California beach dudes and babes here, as it is clear that Sacramento simply ain’t cool, dude. Listening to Amon Tobin whilst taking in this scene makes for a strange outlook.
The airport is busy today (my flight is full, and so is just about every other one going out of here – such are the perils of travelling on a Friday afternoon), so there is a constant stream of announcements calling passengers and offering security warnings ("Keep your bags with you at all times&quot). I’m glad that I’m not flying back via Chicago, which was an option, as all flights that way have been cancelled due to poor weather at O’Hare. The passengers have just been told that they can wait in the terminal, or fly via Washington DC – either way, any hotel costs and onward travel costs would be at their own expense. I guess that as I do more travel around Europe and the rest of the world, there will be occasions when I get bumped, or delayed for some other reason, and end up asleep on an airport lounge floor. I may invest in an mp3 player, as my laptop battery is only good for about four hours, and there are usually no recharging facilities (although the phones at San Francisco have powerpoints by them), and, believe me, you need something to distract you from the human zoo all around.

I made another of those bullet point lists in my notebook the other day – let’s have a look at it:

• smoking
• taut redheads
• fake rock climbing
• Forever 21 looks more like Forever Pre-Pubescent
• taffy
• Macys, Banana Republic (I must have made this list in the mall – this week has become a bit of a blur)
• Old Town, seems fake
• shapes in the mall (there’s at least one photo to go with that one)
• brewpubs
• overly helpful staff – can I help you?

As before, I’ll gladly expand on any of these topics on request. And I haven’t forgotten those requests that arose from the last list.
And here’s a thing – do women over here get married younger? Ok, ok, maybe the single girl radar is switched on at the moment (god, a transatlantic relationship would be such a bad idea, so don’t worry, I’m not even thinking about it. But hey! I can look! [I think that may be sufficient expansion on the "eye candy" comment from the last list for whoever it was that asked. I guess the same person (Brian? Gordon?) will ask about "taut redheads", which actually has a good little anecdote behind it]). My point is that there seem to be an awful lot of girls who can not be more than 25 who are wearing rings. Any American bachelors reading this that want to put in some input here? Or is it just me, and the whole California lifestyle tends to make women appear younger than they actually are?

One of the other things I’ve been doing here this week is preparing for my next trip to the US. I will be over in the first week of October for David and Andi’s wedding in Charlotte, NC, and it looks like I’ll be able to tie it together with a visit to a couple of guys in the Raleigh area, both of whom may be potential customers, either directly or through my alliance partners here in the States. One is a plant breeder and enthisuast, an exciting source of new plant material, the other is a member of a large US-wide plant growing organisation that has an immensely strong brand at the top end of the garden plant market. What I will probably do is fly to the wedding in Charlotte, which extends over Friday and Saturday, then take a rest day on Sunday before hiring a car Monday morning to travel to Raleigh. There’ll probably be more short-hop connecting flights then too. I’ll have to set out to explore the travel options this week. I’ve also got to plan the forthcoming trips to Holland, France, Germany and Cheshire. You might think Cheshire doesn’t need too much planning, but it looks like I may have to fly directly from Manchester to Holland for one of those trips, so I need to coordinate that.
Dumb announcement of the day:

Uh, honey, the contiguous States *already* excludes Alaska and Hawaii. Duh.

There was a woman in the check-in queue here who picked up on my accent (well, of course, I don’t have an accent. Everyone else here does, but not me.), and told me that her family were all Spurs supporters, and burst into a quick rendition of a couple of terrace songs. She hadn’t heard that Brighton had sold Bobby Zamora to them, but seemed excited when I told her that he was our best player. Was. Sigh.

Ok, I’m going to shut down the laptop now, and save some battery power for later use – let’s see… 2:41 hrs remaining. Not bad, should give me some listening time at LA (although my connection time is fairly tight there), or maybe on the transatlantic flight. If not, then on the train on the way home. And somewhere, I need to get some sleep, otherwise I’m going to be pulling another one of those 36 hour days. At least I’ll be able to totally relax at Charlie and Peet’s, always a good refuge from the world.
And I’ve noticed that I have the biggest laptop that anyone seems to be carrying around. I’ve noticed several people admiring the silvered case and the lovely big screen. I’ve not noticed anyone admiring the muscles and shoulder aches that go with it too.

UPDATE
Now at LA. Flight in on time, and it looks like the flight out will be on time. Airports are great places for feeling homocidal towards infants. I’m beginning to develop those tendencies now.

There are more English voices here, which is barely surprising. But it’s hard to tell because they work at a lower volume, whereas so many Americans work at max. Maybe it is the media here that encourage that, or perhaps it is just part of the way of life. Whatever. I just wish that occasionally they’d tone down a little, especially when in groups, but maybe if they did that I’d start to like this country. Nah. I’m too European. It’ll never happen.

Hmm. I must be getting tired and grouchy. Tired is good – means I should sleep on the plane. Unless I’m struggling with homocidal thoughts.

Anyhow, what other observations do I have. Well, one from my last trip here is that LA airport is vast. If you taxied as far as I just did at Gatwick, you’d be halfway to Chichester. I’ve just walked from gate 86 to gate 77 within the same terminal, and it took the better part of 15 minutes. At my brisk pace.

The flight down from Sacramento was full to the gunwhales (do you get gunwhales on Canadair Regional Jets?), and a little bumpy in places as we skirted around a storm cloud in the valley. The view was pretty good, although much of the valley is either just endless brown or endless squares of green crops, sliced through by I-5. The best bit is the view as you come over the hills before descending into Los Angeles, where you can clearly see the folds caused by plate tectonics.

Oh, and then there was the girl with the black thong who was sat next to me on the plane. She had an enormous rock too.

Right, boarding has just been called. Once more unto the breach.

Using Wapblogger to update as I travel home from Heathrow. I’ve got a long post on my laptop, but no means of uploading it. I need to look into using the IR facility on this phone, but goodness knows what that costs on O2. Anyway, be prepared for some screwy chronology. Anyhow, the flight was ok. I got some sleep, albeit fitful. It arrived on time. I’m now on the bus back to Woking. It’s good to be home.

Still more meetings yesterday, the biggest steak ever, and yet more alcohol. But very very useful indeed. I’ve extended my network of US-based contacts and met up with a couple of Europeans too. Hopefully I’ve got some sources of new plants, and some licensee contacts as well, although local licencees would most likely be handled by my friends over here.
Now is time for breakfast, a quick stroll down the block to Esoteric Records, a store that looks interesting from the putside, then I must pack my bags and wend my way to the airport, ready for hours upon hours of travel back home.
It’s been a great trip, very fruitful, utterly exhausting, but full of interesting people and useful information. Parts of it have even been fun, but don’t tell anyone – it’s supposed to be work! Maybe that’s because I now have work that I really enjoy.

More meetings, more food, more sessions talking shop in the bar. Anyone who thinks I’m having an easy leisurely time over here is mistaken.
At least today is the last day of the symposium in which I will be taking part. I depart here tomorrow afternoon (so don’t have to get out of bed too early), although I hear that the flight is overbooked – I had a nerve-wracking situation on the outward journey when I thought I might get bumped, and I don’t want that again. Then it’ll be travelling through the night back to the UK.
Today’s objectives are to meet with two important growers, one of whom is a European (I’m sure there is an easier way we could do this!), and to take in two seminars that I hope will be useful. Otherwise, it is a case of full-on "schmoozing" and also helping out a little with my hosts’ booth as I am familiar with a number of the plants that they are promoting.

Today is a rest day on the trade show here, when the delegates can either go on an organised tour, or can do their own thing. Since none of the crowd I’m with fancied the tour, we’re thinking of exploring the Old Town of Sacramento and maybe heading out of the city to one of the local wineries. I suspect we will talk shop a lot, so even though we may not be around the "booths" in the trade show or "schmoozing", we won’t be switched off entirely. This evening, there is a barbeque in the park opposite the hotel and convention centre for the delegates and participants, so we will be going to that in order to network some more and also to make the most of the free food.
Speaking of free food, the guys I’m with insist on paying for everything. Whilst that is very nice, it is becoming embarrassing. I know that they feel that my new business needs a hand and a little help, but they won’t even let me pay for dinner to let me show my appreciation for the help they have given me.

Last night’s meetings were fruitful and useful. Today’s trade show and meetings were also fruitful and useful. I think I can safely say that I have more than justified the cost of this journey already in terms of old acquaintances renewed, new contacts made and plants seen and discussed. Plus knowledge and experience gained. It’s been very useful, and I have another couple of days to go yet.
Alcohol and food intake – v v v bad.

Busy busy. Been working hard today, including doing a fair stint of the drive from Santa Barbara to Sacramento (took seven hours and I did around 3 hours of that). Gotta go shower now before heading down to a meeting. Later!
Oh and Bob Hope, RIP. At last. And Nasser Hussein’s career, RIP, sadly. Plus Sussex’s chances of winning the cricket County Championship, RIP too.

It won’t be as good as the original. Thought I’d best say it before everyone else.

Urrf. I’d forgotten that there is a good reason why obesity is a problem in the US – portion sizes. Huuuge food today, plus a trip up to a nursery about 60 miles north of here to see some plants.
Nothing else to report, other than watching hummingbirds in the flowers and vultures circling overhead. Sunshine, clear skies, 28 Celsius. A hard life.
Up at 6am tomorrow (that’s 2pm in the UK) ready for the seven hour drive north to Sacramento.

Arrived. Went for meal. Came back to Geoff and Maureen’s. Drank whisky. Talked. went to bed around 12.30am. That’s 8.30am BST – around 26 hours after I got out of bed.
This morning, I’m awake on time, feeling a bit tired, but ok. And the internet connection seems to work fine, so big up to net2roam.

(written last night, about 6.30PST)
I’m currently sitting in San Francisco International Airport, looking out towards the bay and watching the fog roll in. It makes for a spectacular sight with the shiny United and American planes reflecting the low sun.
The airport itself is the usual sprawling concrete monstrosity, although it has some interesting concrete forms that appeal to me (but not photographed, as I was too busy hauling luggage) and a goodly number of good quality art installations throughout.
As usual, when travelling I keep a notebook and pen handy so that I can scribble down any thoughts and observations that may occur to me along the way (this is the first time I’ve ever been able to do that with a keyboard on my lap, and it is a very pleasurable experience. All I need to do now is get this thing WiFi enabled, although I see no evidence of WiFi facilities here). Here are the notes I have made so far today (bear in mind that my body currently thinks it is 2.30am, so please excuse any delirium):

• three girls smoking on train
• seafood
• tired check-in – June
• comedy bus driver
• eye candy
• 26 is twice 13
• nearly bumped
• overly made-up stewardess
• wedding party
• wrong seat! 34/35
• you notice the extra inch
• lady from San Fran – son in Georgia
• the Dutch Red Wine Incident
• Peet’s Coffee and Tea
• art in San Fran Int.
• fog on the bay

I’ll gladly expand on any of these on request, dear reader.
Also in my notebook is a longer ramble scrawled somewhere over Greenland:

Did I mention that the drinks are free on United? Bzzzzzzzzz.
I’ll try and sober up and be more coherent and less drippy. I promise.

I suppose I should pack.

I’ve just spent the evening persuading my laptop to connect to the net via the internal modem. After much swearing and reference to redundant technology, I’ve found the cause of the problem to be a new cable I purchased in Dixons. guh.
Thanks to Dad driving a 20 mile round trip to deliver a cable adapter, I should now be able to hook up whilst I’m in the States. If not, then it’ll be quiet here for the next week.
Thanks also to Marcia for being logical and reminding me to check the simple things.

Very busy preparing everything I need for my trip to the US. Which mainly seems to consist of jars of pickle for my hosts. Hmm.
I suppose I should also get together some stuff for PFE – some business cards at least.

Most things should be back to normal on this site now (whatever normal is). If you find a missing file, please let me know.

3D Pong, but with a twist – you control both player paddles. Takes a while to get your head around it, or intensely frustrating, dependinghow you look at it.

I’ve uploaded some of the files, but a whole shedload are still missing. Serves me right for not being sufficiently organised, and having files scattered across five hard drives on four PCs. All the files from my laptop and home desktop are now uploaded. There are some on my work desktop. There are also some on a "retired" desktop that sits in a corner at work, quietly gathering dust. It may take some time for me to get to the files on that one.

This page may look a little odd at the moment, and a lot of the pages will return 404 errors.
Sorry about that. Blame the arseholes that host this site.
Normal service may be resumed shortly, but as I have to prepare for my trip to the US on Saturday, it is not a high priority.

Fuckers. 34SP, here I come.

Mmmmmm. Yams.

I notice I’m getting a lot more hits from the Indian subcontinent these days, mainly people looking for Aishwarya Rai and her forthcoming film Bride and Prejudice. Rather too many people seem also to be seeking pictures of Aishwarya in the buff, and to be honest, I think you’re fairly unlikely to find any. Certainly not genuine ones. And definitely not here.

This morning I went into the shop in Lake Lane in Barnham to pick up a newspaper. As I went in the door, Mrs Sobti, the lady of the establishment, was having a conversation with an older male customer:

• Male Customer – I think he’s a worried man!
• Mrs. Sobti – He is. I think that we should have the women in charge of the country. If women were running things, then everything would be much better. Just you see! Mark my words!
• Me (interfering as usual) – We don’t want that! Look what happened with the last woman we had in charge!
• Mrs S. – Yes, but she did lots of good things whilst she was in power. 55 pence please.
• MC – You might have a point. We should put the WI in charge. They had the pants off him!
• Mrs S. – The WI?
• MC – Yes. Remember he went to speak to them? They had his pants off in five minutes!
• Mrs S. (neatly steering the conversation away from pants) – Five pence change. He does seem a worried man though.
• MC – Yes. I think he’ll end up having a stroke!
• Mrs S. – Or going the same way as Kelly.
• MC – hmm.
• Me – thanks! bye! (thought it best to leave at this point!)

Corner shop politics. Better than bar room discussion any day.

As if by magic, this afternoon some flyers were put through my letterbox inviting me to get a quotation for timber framed sash windows. How handy!
Don’t think I’ll follow it up though. Especially as Dave might take offence if I were to say what company was behind the offer.

It’s awfully quiet around here.
Send me email! Leave comments! Call me! GIVE ME ATTENTION! FEED MY EGO!

ahem.

So, I needed some bits and pieces for my laptop so I could enjoy connectivity whilst in the US. Having shopped around, I ordered them from Dell, as they were cheaper even than dabs.com. I fly on Saturday. Today I find that expected delivery date is next Monday. guh.
So it looks like I’ll have to get at least the basics locally, a US/UK electricity adapter and a RJ-11 to RJ-11 cable.

I’ve got a bit of a headache and I’m stiff and in need of a massage. These are signs that I’ve had too much to drink over the weekend and that I’m a bit stressed out.
It’s strange. I was pretty much convinced that everything was going to work out this year. So far, it’s gone steamingly well. In fact, I think that, apart from my personal life, everything has been good this year. If I could just fix that element of life, then everything would be fantastic. Maybe I try too hard?

Meg, formerly of notsosoft fame, has begun a new site here.

Beer tonight with Paul F, Arron and Nikki. Also heard was Russell from Maximum High doing his acoustic Paul Weller set in W2, but since you could barely get in the door, I decided not to stay.

Global House Connection. Broadcasting, live, until 9pm. It’s very good, you know.
And it is archived, so you can listen later too.

Cat Death Auto. Lord Percy is going to love this one.

Sitting in Priory Park, enjoying the sun and the view and watching people going about their Sunday afternoon activities from the vantage point of my favourite bench atop the wall at the south east corner of the park, a small child, no more than four or five, scampered up nearby. I’d seen him playing with a couple, who were either older siblings or his very young parents, who were sat in the centre of the cricket pitch, eyeing him lazily through their sunglasses. The child stood there, took off his sandals whilst muttering under his breath, and threw them down the embankment onto the floor of the park. He then said "This way!" before scuffling along the footway along the top of the wall, barefoot, muttering "ooh, eeh, aaah, oohh" as he made his way along the hot tarmac.
Across the park came the shouted command: "Alistair! Pick your shoes up or else!"
Good luck, kid.

Well. Hmm. What a strange world we live in.
"What next?" is the inevitable question. Goodness knows, but I think I can be sure that I’ll be looking for more conventional things in the future.
Sorry to obfuscate quite so much. There’s not much more I can say.

So, after lunch of scrambled egg with salmon on toast, I think I shall go for a walk. I need to get outside more, away from the computer, and back into my old ways of regular exercise and enjoying my own company. At least I know that is real, and usually isn’t too weird.

I’m currently stood outside Thursday’s nightclub. Big up to Bren, Greg, Kearn, Arron, Jo, Wanda, Julie, Andy, Andy and Andrew. I’m eating an overpriced burger at nearly 1am whilst exchanging text messages with people far away. This place is full of young flesh and it isn’t attractive. As I say, a strange weekend.

For how long do you think you could maintain a lie, keep up a story? Especially when the person to whom you are telling this tale is someone that feels very deeply for you, feelings that are built upon the story you have told. A hour? A day? A week? More than a year?

I’m having a very strange weekend. I feel used, cheated, deceived and very hurt. I also feel stupid, naïve, gullible and foolish. I’ve broken all my own personal rules, rules I’d made as a result of hard won experience.

The thing is, now that I know the truth, I feel that a burden has been lifted from my shoulders, a burden that, as the sharp-eyed amongst you may have noticed, settled on me yesterday evening. I feel an element of freedom now, though last night was filled with anguish, sadness and even tears.

Over the last year, someone has been telling me a story. I believed the story. The story was very convincing, largely because it was clearly based on fact. But two critical elements of the story, two elements that were fundamental to the whole thing, plus a whole bunch of other parts of the story, were false. That falsehood was maintained throughout, right up until this evening, more than 15 months since the falsehoods were first uttered.

I don’t like being lied to. White lies I can excuse, though I may resent them. But out and out, brazen telling of absolute falsehoods, especially when those falsehoods have been told for personal gain or to achieve one’s own ends, make me very angry, hurt and upset. Especially when my emotions have been played with.

I’ve been lied to before. Those people are no longer on my Christmas lists, shall we say. It’s my nature to trust people that I meet until I have evidence to dissuade me from doing so. I may have to review that, and become much more circumspect.

This time, I feel no malice. Well, not much. I’m not really sure what I feel, to be honest, aside from the knee-jerk reactions I described above. At least they have had the decency to come clean, and I respect that. I certainly would have felt much more pain, sorrow and sadness if I had not known.

I need more time to think about this, to come up with a reaction. In the meantime, I’m going to the bar. As I say, it’s been a very strange weekend.

Lunch with Sarah earlier in St Martin’s Tea Rooms. She suggested that I might write a book, a sort of autobiography. I’ve almost got enough material.
sigh.

[earlier post deleted]

I’m worried.
I have my mobile with me.
I’m hoping for a call.

I’m taking this afternoon off work. I intend to spend most of the weekend away from the computer (if not all weekend!), with mobiles switched off and the phone unplugged. So expect quiet.

MoD expert goes missing. Let’s hope the man is safe and well, but if he isn’t, it could be enough to bring down the Government.
UPDATE: body found. Formal identification awaited. I think the shit is about to hit the fan.

Two elements to this evening. Firstly, David came over to measure the place up in preparation for my planning application for new windows (how long have I been saying I’m going to do this? At last, some progress!). Unfortunately, we quickly discovered a problem in that the windows I planned to buy do not fit the holes that the existing ones will leave behind, by a considerable margin. It’s not insurmountable – Frannie and I will just have to have windows made, unless I can find another company that offer timber-framed sash windows that are closer to the correct dimensions. However, either way, it is going to add considerably to the cost, which was pretty horrendous to start with.
Secondly, I’ve been tidying the flat. It is much tidier now. All I have left to do is to hoover the floor, do a small amount of washing up and change the bedsheets, all of which I’ll do tomorrow afternoon.
In the course of tidying up, I’ve discovered that I have a shockingly large number of clothes, many of which I don’t wear any more. Can I really justify possessing 15 sweaters, for example? Especially when six of them are black.

Brighton and Hove Albion sell Bobby Zamora. We need the money, and being realistic, Brighton needed to sell him whilst his contract still had some time to run, so as to be sure of getting good value. Additionally, Bobby has had more than his fair share of injury troubles.
Now Brighton has something of a problem – namely a total lack of good forwards. Let’s see if Steve Coppell is given free rein to spend the money on some new talent.
UPDATE: BBC coverage.

I have a sore shoulder, probably from carrying my laptop, or maybe from sleeping awkwardly. In addition, there is a small annoying fly buzzing around my office today.
These are the things which are irritating me today. Just so you know.

Why are the BBC crediting the Independent with information about this story? After all, it was their own John Simpson who doorstepped the man at his home in south London in the first place, as recounted in one of his books.

I’ve linked this game before, but it is worth seeing again, not least for the funky music.

Can someone to explain something for me? The Government is, rightly, being forced to justify its reasons for taking our armed forces to war in Iraq. It certainly has got the Government on the defensive. I suppose it is right that the leader of Her Majesty’s Opposition is leading the criticism of the PM. But hang on! Isn’t this the same opposition that, in the run up to the war, was notable for agreeing with the incumbents, only more so?! It seems a little two-faced to me.
As it is, I think the PM needs to either admit that he went to war for political reasons or furnish some evidence that we can all see that substantiates his reasoning. If he does neither, then what little faith his supporters still have will surely wither and fade.

I’m listening to A Hard Day At The Orifice on Radio 4. Fascinating.

I forgot to say that when the idiots spilled litter all over the cathedral green the other day, they also smashed one of the cathedral windows, which is now boarded up. I only noticed it later. It’s sure to be fenced off now, I think.

We were promised heavy rain last night and this morning. Instead, we got a light shower that was barely enough to lay the dust, and was pretty useless. But it was enough to really accentuate scents and smells. Flowers and trees in bloom that I passed on my way to work seem particularly heavily laden with scent. So, unfortunately, was the dustcart the passed me.

It was my neighbour’s birthday yesterday. A lady came to my door with a bunch of flowers, and asked me to look after them, as Frannie was out. When Frannie got home, I gave her the flowers then heard her gasp as she went into her flat. There on her desk in the hallway was a brand new Dell computer and inkjet printer wrapped in wide white ribbon, a gift from her boyfriend Joseph. Frannie was positively leaping up and down.
Which reminds me. I need to purchase a birthday gift.

I probably shouldn’t admit to finding Bob to be quite cute.

Beer with Arron, Kearn and DA, with a brief chat with Ted. Sent email when I got home.

Hot day. Hot evening. Time to head to the bar for a cold beer.

I either saw someone who was Robyn‘s doppelganger today, or it was actually Robyn and she blanked me. I’m sure that if she came to Chichester, she would give me a shout. Either way, I definitely saw someone who was ickle and beige, and there aren’t too many of them.

Smashball.

Pee ball.

Great idea! It’ll never catch on.
Great idea! Might just work.

Today should be PFE’s first payday. Unfortunately, it can’t be because the Inland Revenue still have not sent me the necessary paperwork. Grr.

Galaxies without stars.

Sounds just like my teenage years.

From the Sites I Don’t Read Often Enough Dept.: Matt finds a dead bee.

Meanwhile, Rodney claims not to be panicking, but I’m not entirely convinced. I suspect he is just covering it up well.
I’m excited too, but not about that.

Bloggers go to Parliament. The closing comments in this article about established weblogs closing down amused me. That’s been going on since the dawn of weblogs – even now, one or two prominent sites are on extended hiatus (e.g. Meg – I spoke with her the other day, and she is fine and well and very happy, in case you were wondering) and several popular sites of all descriptions have disappeared in recent months. But, at the same time, even more interesting and top quality new sites have sprung up or come to the fore. I would say that the creation of good new sites far exceeeds the rate at which good established ones are disappearing.
Anyway, it sounds like the meeting was interesting, although it may have been a bit of a geekfest. I’ll see if others have more to say (particularly those that attended) and maybe post a link or two here.
UPDATE: linkage…

• Tom gets annoyed with people who dismiss the event out of hand
• Amusingly, Darren tells us that Andrew Orlowski sucks wet farts out of dead pigeons, before going on to give a good handful of links to stuff about the meeting
• Gert says "I suspect that in ten years, if all MPs have blogs, so will five or ten million of the UK population. Blogs will no longer be a phenomenon, but just another way to communicate." In my view, they are becoming less phenomenal by the day, and that’s no bad thing.

Headache gone. Which is good.

bbzzzzz. bbzzzzz. I’ve got one of those buzzy headaches, no doubt caused by the excessive heat and being a little tired after a busy weekend. Thankfully, I have a long weekend break planned, when I intend to turn the relaxation up to MAX, and the weather forecast is for pleasant sun with an end to the searing temperatures.
The British – never satisfied with the weather.
And, yes, I’m counting the hours. 99 at the moment, or thereabouts. I’ve been counting them for some time.

Tomorrow is the 15th of July. Notable as being my first pay day under PFE. I know that paying myself may seem a bit odd, but I need to show a salary in order to keep the mortgage people at the bank happy. These are the same people who lent the money to me in order that I might pay myself. Such is the way of the world.

Some bright spark decided it would be terribly amusing to spill the contents of six litter bins across the cathedral green during the night. This morning, as I walked across the green on my way to the station, one of the cathedral staff stood surveying the scene with a clutch of bin bags in his hand and a look of some resignation on his face. Several times in recent years, the cathedral authorities have threatened to fence off the green and lock it every evening, and if this sort of idiotic behaviour becomes a regular occurence, then that is more likely to happen. And that would be a loss to the city, I think.

Why do people break plates? I don’t really know. Suggestions?

Things I haven’t written about here lately:

• what I’m really feeling at the moment and why life just gets better
• the wonder of factor 30 sun block
• the man who dropped a pot, broke it and swore
• paint dribbles
• white lilies blushed with pink
• the Chichester bypass
• yams
• why Sainsbury’s winds me up

…amongst other things. If enough people ask, I may expand on one or more of those topics. Except the first one, naturally. If I could be arsed, I’d have a Scaryduck-stylee rigged poll.

Another long hot day, punctuated by winning six bottles of red wine in a prize draw at the event. Which is nice. No volunteers currently sought for sharing them, although if the first bottle tastes of vinegar, I may give the other five away. I’m generous like that.

I’m shattered. Today was a very long and very hot day. So, now that I’ve taken a cool shower, I intend to relax and wind down. And not go out again.

I’ve been trying to use AOL’s mobile phone email service. It sucks. It lets me write my mail and address it, but crashes when I try to send. So I am feeling a little incommunicado, especially as the person I am trying to mail is sans mobile at the moment. Sigh. Thank goodness for wapblogger.

Today I shall mostly be frying alive in the baking sun at the Parham House Garden Weekend. As usual though, my mind will be miles away. And that is a Good Thing.

Quack.

Ping Pong, Matrix styleee. Windows Media hosted at flabber.nl (but not their own work).

Not dead. Just very busy indeed.
If I get time, I’ll post from my mobile tomorrow.

A picture of the paper goddesses from Saturday’s parade.

For those wondering what the inside of my new office looks like, here it is:

D4D is having problems with a potential trademark infringement. Trouble is, they are trying to enforce a US trademark on a UK website, so Wileys are being both heavy-handed and ham-fisted. If they own UK or EU trademarks too, then Lyle might be stuffed. Either way, it strikes me Wileys are using a sledgehammer to crack a walnut.
Their UK headquarters is in Chichester, just by the railway station, so anyone who wants to go and wave "Free D4D" placards down there will be most welcome to a cup of tea at mine afterwards.

The concert. Well. It was good. But not as good as I thought it might be.
Rose Royce, in my opinion, were excellent, with good music, strong vocals, some classics, some covers and something new, all presented in a way that engaged the crowd and got people dancing and applauding.
Boney M were less good. They had a total wanker on stage prancing about and doing the male vocal parts. Starting the set out with singalonga version of Amazing Grace is unlikely to get the crowd kicking. And there were fewer classics (although to be fair, Boney M probably only had three hits?) and more stuff that I certainly didn’t know.
My biggest gripe was with the sound quality. Rose Royce didn’t seem too interested in doing an encore because of it (and, in fact, didn’t do one) – you could barely hear the backing vocalist at all, who was left on stage as something of an ornament. There was quite a bit of feedback, and the sound style seemed to be to go for volume and to hell with the awful distortion – by all accounts it could be heard in Oving, three miles away. Perhaps if the mixing desk was situated at the back of the auditorium like it is in most venues instead of on the right hand side of the stage, the engineer would have a better idea of what was going wrong. I think that removing one of the corporate hospitality areas at the back and putting the sound desk there would improve the event for everyone.
Honestly, for twenty quid a head, I expect something better.

But the Real Ale and Jazz Festival (they keep the brand, but the content bears no relationship these days) is still one of the great Chichester social occasions of the year. I saw just about everyone there, and I’m going to be brave and attempt to list them: Paul F, Alison, Paul the other one, Xena, Bren, Greg, Aris, Julie, Jo, Julie, Fi, Julie (spotting a pattern yet?), Karen, Ted (with Samuel L Jackson hat and great shades and medallion), Nikki (in the biggest wig ever), Helen (smaller wig but danced on stage), Hamish, Ruth, DJ (who looked "great" at the end of the evening), Leah, Kristian and loads of others too.

Bzzzz. Full report tomorrow. Good. But not great. But fab company. Thoughts far away, but getting closer.

This evening, I shall mostly be strutting my funky stuff to Boney M and Rose Royce at the Real Ale and Jazz Festival (jazz???) in Priory Park. Seventies flashback, baby!

Today, I shall mostly be attending the Woking Nursery Exhibition in PFE mode. Expect quiet.

Hoverbump.

I took delivery of my new business cards for PFE today. Such excitement!

Top marks to Sharp for repairing my fax machine and returning it to me in double quick time. Irritatingly, the only thing that was damaged was the cable connecting the machine to the phone socket.

It’s funny how things slot into place sometimes.

US cinema box office revenues falling. Hmmm. Matrix Reloaded, X-Men 2, Charlies Angels 2, Terminator 3, Tomb Raider sequel, American Pie part 3, god forbid Spy Kids 3. Perhaps if the promoters put their efforts into some of the excellent new and original cinema that is being made rather than constantly plugging films where we know the characters and have a pretty good idea what is going to happen, then revenues would be holding up.

Dinner last night with Jane G, featuring grilled swordfish with a rather nice sauce made from fresh herbs, lemon juice and capers. Recommended, and a great opportunity for me to practice my culinary skills for when it really counts. Also an opportunity for me to catch up on the latest in goat farming, and to bring Jane up to speed on the world of plant breeders’ rights. It was more interesting than it sounds.

Urf.

Work is much less stressy now. A few major executive decisions have been made, and suddenly life is much easier. Can’t tell you about it though, not here anyway. Sorry.

I’m still waiting, still being patient. I know it’s worth it, so it’s ok.

Meanwhile, work is getting stressy again. And it need not be. I get the feeling that the next two weeks are going to be something of a pain. Thankfully, I have a release planned for the end of it, something which I’ve been looking forward to for aaaaages.

Rapture is an online (and printed) what’s-on guide for Chichester and the local area. Far more comprehensive than anything the Observer ever lists, and much more down to earth. Highly recommended.
And I’m not just saying that because this site has been given a plug in the forums.

Hot news from PHSI: two new identification posters and information sheets have been produced on Diabrotica and Potato Spindle Tuber Viroid. Revised versions of the Importers Guide and Plant Passporting Guide have also been produced.
Diabrotica and Viroids. It’s a dangerous world out there.

Frankly, if you’re not listening to Global House Connection on this warm summer evening, then there is something very wrong with you. Live, every Sunday, 7pm to 9pm BST.

Some of you may be aware that I’m a bit of a fan of Cook, the purveyors of the finest gourmet ready-prepared foods. It seems that Marks and Spencer are going to launch a range of similar products under the range name "Cook", much to the annoyance of the proprietors of Cook, particularly as they have no links with M&S and will not be supplying the meals.
It seems from their website (and notice in the window of their Chichester store) that they do not plan to fight this. Surely there must be some grounds on which they can stop it? Do they own the copyright in the name "Cook" when used to brand gourmet ready meals?

Bug on a wire.

FC Kahuna’s Hayling is an excellent song, and I quite like the simple message in the vocals. But who would ever be glad to be in Hayling? It’s a bit of a deadend place, to say the least. Or is there another, more desirable, Hayling?

From weakness to strength – you have to admire the strength of these two.

For some reason, I’ve woken up in a very negative mood today. Not a bad mood, you understand, but a negative one.
I recognise that one of my greatest weaknesses (don’t make me list the others – or at least don’t list them for me) is that I need fairly regular reassurance. Everyone seems to think that I have oodles of self confidence, and can walk into any situation and deal with it. But that’s a bit of a front, and sometimes I get as nervous and apprehensive as you can imagine. I guess I’ve just developed a strategy of putting on a confident (and occasionally brash) façade because it is the only way to get through a lot of business and social situations and thus to move forward in life.
So I need reassurance. I need people to tell me that I’m doing ok, that what I’ve done is good (and, for that matter, to make positive suggestions if things need to be changed). In relationships, I’ve always had a need for my partner to let me know that they are still thinking about me, that they still feel for me, even if they are far away. And sometimes it’s good if friends just come along and show me that they still want to be around.
It doesn’t always need words. In fact, it is probably better unspoken. Actions say much more.
And I know it isn’t terribly attractive. As I say, I do view it as a weakness. It isn’t a good thing.
But it is a part of me.

Well, I’m glad I went out to see what all the funny outfits were about. I’ve just witnessed a parade, one of the best things I’ve seen in Chichester in years.

When I got down to West Street, the Cathedral Green was cordoned off, the road closed, and a fairly large crowd had gathered. On the green were some large coloured paper globes, like outsize IKEA lamp shades, on tall poles, each representing one of the planets and the sun. Also present was a brass orchestra from one of the local schools, whilst, overhead, the falcons put on a stunning aerobatic display to keep everyone amused, calling to each other as they flew around the spire and bell tower. Didg music played from the Market Cross.
As it got dark, in the distance you could hear drums, and eventually two huge paper models of goddesses came into view along East Street, illuminated from within. These were preceded by the percussionists and about a dozen brass musicians. By this time the crowd was huge and people were pouring out of the pubs to watch. The goddesses were followed by a huge crowd of schoolchildren, maybe three hundred or so, carrying lanterns in the shapes of the moon, stars, planets and rockets, lit white, orange and blue. The parade made its way very slowly along West Street, round the bell tower and onto the green, the children passing between the goddesses and sitting on the ground beneath the illuminated planets whilst a fire was lit beneath the sun. A 30-voice female choir first played those garden hose whistle things (making a sound like whistling fireworks), then sang as all the brass instruments played together and the rhythmic rumbling of the percussion continued. Finally, as the voices died away, white and cerise fireworks streaked across the roof of the cathedral, to cheers and applause from the crowd.

Absolutely fantastic – and brilliant to see the city streets full of people of all sorts enjoying themselves in a funky and relaxed way – the closest Chichester ever gets to having a cosmopolitan and continental feel. I’ve got some pictures, but it was a bit gloomy, so I’m not sure how they will come out when I get the film processed. If there are any good ones, I will post them here, of course.

I honestly can say that I wish you’d been here to see it. It was great.

My horoscope today tells me that I want to hold hands with someone.

There seem to be some strange people walking around the city this evening, including a large group of mostly overweight girls, all wearing black with lilac coloured silk sashes, and purple hats that made them look like bit part players from Thunderbirds (and about as animated). They were followed by a couple where the man was clearly much older than the woman, but she succeeded in making herself look nearly as old as him by having a florid red complexion and a hairstyle that looked like something from a seventies fondue party.
I guess all of this could be related to the wedding cars I saw going up Orchard Avenue earlier. Then again, it could be something to do with the Festivites, as another bunch of people in black with sashes and silly hats has just gone by. This time they were mainly older men, and were carrying drums. Hmm. I think I may amble down to where the road is closed by the cathedral this evening and see what the heck is going on.

I think I’ll stay in this evening. Yesterday was a little excessive, so I’m going to give my body, and especially my liver, a rest.

Attention! Animation à caractère scatophile. Appeals to my childish sense of humour.

Two things about this story: firstly, if you are in a tall building during a storm, there is a fair chance that it might be struck by lightning, so it isn’t really remarkable. Secondly, if there is an omnipotent deity, I like His style of sending a "sign" that causes US$20,000-worth of damage to a building where people come to worship Him. Nice touch.
Oh, and will someone shoot the BBC picture caption writer for writing a pun like that?

Today, I shall mostly be waiting. Patiently, but expectantly.

Disturbing development of the day was receiving a spam that told me I’d "look good with a new electric wheelchair". Please, with a little luck, I intend to achieve a whole list of things before I need one of those.

Gordon Bennett. Mind far too far away. I’m off to bed.

Trivia: which country, or dependency, has the oldest continuous parliament in the world, sitting for 1024 years?

Pictures in the frame, but no email tonight. Patience. Thoughts in East Anglia.

Drinks tonight with Arron, Nicki, Malcolm, Sally, Tanya, Jeremy, Simon, Bren, Greg, Paul R and Wendy. Hurrah!

The master of luuurve has died. Barry White, RIP.

Following cockinfrock, comes this from Lizzie:

This comes to me via Fi. Anything you can do to support this, even if only to raise awareness by posting the link on your own website if you have one, is worth doing.

For my next trip to America, I’ve booked my flight with United Airlines via the American Airlines website, and the tickets have arrived from an address in Spain. I’ll be flying from Heathrow to Santa Barbara via San Francisco, and returning from Sacramento via Los Angeles.
Now look at an atlas and see if any of this makes sense. Surely there must be a more effective way of doing things.

I don’t subscribe to the "asking for trouble" argument with this sort of thing, as I don’t think anyone would actually ask to be raped or abducted, but in the case of the girl who escaped abduction in Doncaster the other day, one has to ask: what on earth was a sixteen year old girl doing walking alone at 3.20am?

Cycads under threat. Better policing of CITES would help too – and that means giving support and resources to bodies like the PHSI to put staff in airports and ports, as Customs personnel simply do not have the knowledge and experience to do the job.

The BBC must be very proud of their animated trottoir.

Today is American Independence Day and National Kissing Day. Not much chance of being kissed today, so I’ll just have to make do with being independent, and planning my next trip to America.

This place and this place are linked by one of these operated by these people. It’s true.

Slack Sabbath Air Guitar Championships. No further comment needed.

Apparently the new look Blogger has a problem handling very long posts. So Blogger users should be advised to cut ‘n’ paste into NotePad before hitting Publish when suffering attacks of verbosity.

Talking lamp posts for the blind. I did start thinking that this idea could be extended to help the inebriated get home after last orders, but then realised that all that would happen is that every lamp post would have some pissed person hugging it and telling it that it was their "besht friend".

It must be Idiot’s Day today. They seem to be everywhere. How come they don’t warn me of this in my diary?

The nursery was "Nursery Of The Week" in the Daily Telegraph on Saturday. As a consequence, the phone has been ringing off the hook and we’ve received a small deluge of mail.
By its nature, our industry tends to attract a lot of older and retired people as customers. These people seem to have a lot of time on their hands, and this is reflected in the way they transact with us. Whether in person, by post or by telephone (and occasionally by email), they often ramble for some time, when in reality they could complete the transaction quite quickly.
I’ve just had a good example of this. A telephone conversation that went something like this:

Equally, some can be the exact opposite:

…and then they give you the address in rapid fire staccato sentences, each line with an exclamation on the end. It’s quite exhausting.
Then you get the vagues. There is one in the shop at the moment. I can hear her asking mum for "a tall thing, with green leaves and white flowers. It’s called something." With 70,000 different types of plant available in the UK, that description is not very helpful.
And here’s a lovely example of the sort of mail we get (their punctuation):

I’ve never been to the Spice Islands, so have no idea what they smell of.
And people wonder why we never have any spare time!

Someone had left an empty Lucozade bottle on the train this morning. It had a promotional panel on it that read "Your brain is a weapon – load it like Lara!"
I thought it meant Brian Lara, not Lara Croft. I guess that says something about me.

DA complained last night that I hadn’t linked to any games recently, so here is Chokin Chicken and Blix.

Weebl and Bob: Cheese. Therein lies a lesson.

If you’re planning to visit Chichester this weekend, then you’ve picked a good weekend to do so. It’s the beginning of the Chichester Festivities, with all sorts of street performers, theatre, music, art and more. And the weather forecast is pretty good too.

I had been planning to take Sunday 13th off, and spend it doing enjoyable things. Today, my brother booked himself a holiday in Cyprus, which means that he will not be able to work at the Parham House Garden Weekend that day, something he agreed to do almost six months ago. Nobody else can do it, as it involves driving a hired van – mum doesn’t drive and dad, being over 70, is not insured to drive it. Consequently, I’m going to have to give up my day off, and abandon my plans for that day.
To say that I am annoyed that he didn’t bother to check even his own diary before booking his holiday, thereby fouling up plans for the rest of the family, would be an extraordinarily polite understatement.

Someone came here looking for the telephone number of EasySpace. It is 01932 356454.

Gordon Bennett. Today seems to have dragged on for ever. The weekend still seems quite a way off yet.

The hurt of not knowing. Very moving.

Hmm. My fax machine is borked. I can’t get a dial tone, and I suspect that is related to last week’s electrical storm damage. It’s too low in value to claim on my office contents insurance policy, so I’ve packed it up and am sending it back to the manufacturer under guarantee. Hopefully they’ll just think it is a fault and will repair it and send it back, but I guess they might just say it was damaged due to a power surge, something that is specifically excluded from the guarantee. We shall see.

Beer tonight with Paul F, Nicki, Ted, Paul C, Kearn, Cat, Karen, DA and Kev. Good fun. Bumped into Al and Arron on the way home.

Time for the pub.

She lives!

US plans hypersonic bomber, thereby making clear that they intend to have the capability to blow up anything, anywhere, without even getting out of reach of the TV remote control. At least they’ll never miss an episode of Friends.

There is a plan in the making.
I’m so glad that I’m not organising this. I’ve done that once before, with only a modicum of success. It is somewhat hard to do when one is two hours remote of the venue.

Capital Numbers is extremely interesting and highly recommended.

Hello? God speaking…

If the stuffing of my olive falls out, has it failed in its essential purpose? If so, can I get a refund?

Katharine Hepburn, RIP.

Long overdue, but what of unmarried heterosexual couples? Let’s face it, some couples have lived "in sin" for longer than an awful lot of marriages have lasted.
EDIT: Gert expands on the theme, and I agree entirely.

Tim Brooke-Taylor singing All The Things She Said. Jeremy Hardy singing Eternal Flame. It can only be the last in the series of Clue. Class stuff.

I’m pooped. A very long but largely successful day today at West Dean, although the audience was a little reluctant to actually open their wallets. But a good day nonetheless, in spite of a couple of minor hiccups.
I also took the opportunity to stock up on some splendid olives, bread, saucissons and cheese, the last of which I’ll have to make sure is gone before the weekend.
Right now, or at least as soon as I’ve finished enjoying some of this food, I need a soak in the bath and a long drink. A massage would be good too.

What utter bollocks. I’ve never worked so hard in my life as today. The Garden Event has been really successful so far – visitor numbers up by around a third, 83 stallholders to keep happy, blocked drains, leaking pipes, overflowing bins, an injured pensioner and a collapsed radio network – all par for the course for an event organiser. But it seems to have worked overall, and the visitor numbers are fantastic – the best ever.
Hopefully, tomorrow will be even better – come along if you can.
Oh, and I’m a bit sunburnt.
Alison, who is in charge of marketing for West Dean, took some pictures with a digital camera of the event (I forgot to grab the one from the nursery). She’s promised to burn them onto a CD for me, so I may put one up here so you guys can see what it’s like.
The main thing I’ve realised though is that the event has now got just about as big as I can cope with on my own. I simply can not be everywhere doing everything to the high standard I strive for. So next year I’m going to try and rope in an assistant. I just need to find one that will get out of bed at 5am, preferably without too much cajoling or complaining. Volunteer?

Only just got home from work. And have to leave here at 5.30am to do more. But yay! The Garden Event is looking absolutely fantastic – without doubt the biggest and best yet. You MUST come to it! West Dean Gardens, on the A286, six miles north of Chichester. open 10.30am to 5pm tomorrow and Sunday.
Tomorrow will be a very long day, but a good one.
I’m off to bed now. At least I can be sure of sleeping well and very pleasant dreams indeed.

Woo! Cockinafrock makes the B3ta Newsletter. Yay!

How odd that the witness to this incident should share a name (albeit a slightly different spelling) with another helicopter man.

I’m pooped. I’ve worked a very long and hard day, preparing for The Garden Event at West Dean. With a record number of exhibitors taking part, visitor numbers at West Dean up by 30% as a result of winning the Garden of the Year Award and some good press coverage in the local paper, the omens are good. An improving weather forecast bodes well too.
So if you are free this weekend, come down and have a look around. It all looks stunning at the moment – I feel really good about it.
But expect more quiet here on grayblog.

Play dead.

In a small shock to the system, there are actually two great choons in the chart at the moment, both getting serious airtime on Radio 1, and, shortly, on radio grayblog (I promise I’ll update it, though at the moment it is beginning to look like 75% of the playlist will be altered, and I simply don’t have time at the moment. I value my sleep too much. Sorry.): the excellent Foo Fighters‘ Low, and the lovely Siobhan Donaghy‘s Overrated, which certainly isn’t.

Shower Power.

cockinafrock.com – can you help? Safe for work. Ish.

Sad news this morning is of the death of Dr Currier McEwen at the age of 101. "Who he?" I hear you ask. Currier was the greatest breeder of Siberian Iris plants ever, and we grow a number of his plants on the nursery. But the fact that he was still working on his plants up until just a few months before his death suggests to me that horticulture isn’t such a bad life.

British troops killed in Iraq. The Royal Military Police barracks is just 400 yards from my front door.

Read this slowly. Beer, followed by karaoke. Yes, karoake. At the Chicago Rocks. Yes, the Chicago Rocks. With Paul F, Nicky, Michael, DA, Kearn and Jeff. Paul doing Love On The Rocks. Good, but totally overshadowed by Jeff doing Bohemian Rapsody. I’ve not laughed so much in ages.
Paul said to me at the end of the evening: "I’ve not had such a good night in ages. We’ll have to make a point of not coming here again." I concur.
Thoughts miiiiiles away.

Since I can’t be bothered to create my own content this evening, and I feel the urge to enjoy this sunny evening with beer in a pub garden, celebrating the fact that PFE has got a great new client today (not sure I can claim credit for it though, but who’s going to care about that?), here is some linkage for you to enjoy:

• Vaughan is a c*nt
• Gert gets some DSRs
• Marcia lives in the past
• Tom stands his ground, and uses "foreground" as a verb
• Davo (does anyone still call him that?) gives a round-up of Kiwi news stories
• Stuart considers changing the name of his site.

Enough! Go find your own reading material!

Waitrose do these things called "pains circe". That’s not a French nickname for the M25, but instead a rather handsome and trendy looking loaf of bread that is circular in shape with a hole at its centre. I’ve never bought one before, prefering smaller roll-type things or the occasional baton. However, as I was seeking some bread to go with my salad and duck pâté with champagne and truffles (yes, it tastes as good as it sounds), I thought to myself:
My! That’s a rather handsome and trendy looking loaf! I’ll buy one!
Verdict: it’s huge! I put it into one of the bags they provide, and the handle broke. I’m eating it now, and I’m only a third of the way through, and I’m stuffed.
There you go. Today’s exciting bread story.

Right, everything is fixed at last. However, I seem to be having problems accessing my email. Sigh.

Apparently the engineer will be here shortly. Yay!

Mind you, BT have got nothing on the Bangladeshi Telephone Board.

Phones still off. Grrr.
BT have said that I may see an engineer today. I’m not sure I like the fact that the engineer may be here. I’m not best impressed.
Neighbours have had their analogue residential line phones fixed already. But my business critical and more expensive digital line has still not been repaired, with no definite time scheduled for an engineer to call.
As you might imagine, I’m not best pleased. But as BT have a local monopoly at the moment, with no cable provision in this area, what can I do?

Grayblog: parody or boring. You decide.
Meanwhile, gratuitous link to Audi Olympics, which is entertaining.

I’m having one of those days where nothing much seems to be going to plan. I’ve been running around and haven’t been very productive. Much time has been wasted over the matter of the phones (still waiting for the BT engineer), the nursery’s PC (the persistent problem it suffers – it keeps resetting itself – power supply problems?) and the lack of dialling action on my laptop’s modem (may have to contact Dell about that, but not this week, as far too much to do).
Tonight, I’m going to go home and just flop on the sofa and do nothing.

I can’t seem to get my laptop’s built-in modem to work. What am I doing wrong?

Oh great. PFE’s phones, all of them, were knocked out by last night’s storms. Marvellous. God knows when I’ll get an engineer out.

When I was in California, I saw literally miles upon miles of rows of grape vines, so this news story doesn’t surprise me, particularly as my hosts Geoff and Maureen told me that most of what we could see had been planted within the last couple of years.

Another storm outside. I love summer storms. I might go for a stroll if the rain doesn’t get too heavy.

Anyone likely to be going near a branch of Zara? If so, would you pick up a few items for me and send them on? Full costs reimbursed, of course. Let me know if you can help.

There was a thunder storm here this morning, and I was hoping that the rain might lay the pollen and dust a bit. But I seem to be sneezing more than ever. Last night I was really struggling, as my eyes were itching like mad, but a few pints seem to ease that problem (or at least I didn’t notice it so much).

One of my neighbour’s burglar alarms is currently ringing. Well, not really ringing as such, but making that irritating woowoowoo noise. If it isn’t turned off quickly, they may find that they have something to be really alarmed about.

Beer tonight with Sarah and Paul, plus the W2 regulars. And Arron: well, what can I say?

It seems that the story of a motorcycle being in the accident yesterday at Fontwell was a total fabrication. In fact, a milk tanker overturned at the roundabout, and the road had to be cleaned as a result. Only the tanker driver was hurt, and only slightly.

A sunny and warm day, but ultimately not a burning day, thanks to factor 30 cream and the arrival of a thin veil of high cloud. Unfortunately, not the greatest selling day. Good but not great.
At least it means that I will not have to spend ages preparing things for tomorrow, when Tim will be on duty here at the plant fair. Therefore, I should be able to get to the bar and a cold pint in a timely fashion.

Sunblock on – it’s time to head out and spend a day getting roasted in Selborne.

Paging Dave…… paging Dave….

Sorry mate, I can’t make Thursday.
And your email is bouncing.

Heaven and Hell and The Place To Go… are two pieces of thought-provoking photojournalism by Hengameh Golestan posted on nthposition. Hengameh is the widow of Kaveh Golestan, the freelance cameraman who was killed in the landmine explosion in Iraq that injured BBC journalist Stuart Hughes, and it is via his excellent weblog that these links come.

It seems that a couple of flies have taken up residence in my flat, much to my annoyance. They seem to move just a little bit faster than I do, thus evading capture/splatting. It was suggested I should try spraying them with perfume in order to get rid of them. Lacking such stuff, I asked if some eau de toilette pour homme would do the trick. Yes, came the reply.
I now have a hallway that smells really nice and a couple of flies that are a big hit with the laydeez. Great. I think I’ll buy some fly spray.

A night in tonight, with a cold beer, some good summery salad type food, music and a book, as I have a relatively early start tomorrow.

Strange experience this evening to pull onto the A27 at Crockerhill to find it deserted. It has been closed for most of the afternoon following a major accident at Fontwell, that has also closed the A29. I overheard a conversation in Waitrose this evening – apparently the accident involved a motorbike and the rider was very badly hurt.

Busy busy again today, preparing for a plant fair the nursery is attending this weekend. Looks like I’ll get sunburnt there tomorrow – I’ll be sure to pack some block.
At least I have the day off on Sunday, as Tim is doing the fair that day, so I’ll get a chance to catch up on a few more domestic duties. The flat is bordering on messy, and if I nip it in the bud this weekend, it’ll save me a lot of work. At least I have finally done the freezer – it took six hours to do last night, not finishing until about midnight.

All evening, I’ve been trying to find reference to a Tex Avery cartoon that featured the "Figaro, Figaro, Figaro" song from Puccini’s Barber of Seville. And I wasn’t thinking of the Bugs Bunny cartoon "Rabbit of Seville" or even the Woody Woodpecker classic that featured that song. Nope, I knew it was definitely an MGM cartoon directed by Tex Avery.
It was, of course, Magical Maestro (details can be found here), which featured a "leet-ul maaag-ic wand!", and is, almost without doubt, one of the funniest cartoons ever made. It was also one of the last that Tex Avery made for MGM. If ever you get a chance to see it uncut (a scene where Poochini is transmogrified into a Chinaman and then a black man is now often cut, even though there is absolutely nothing racist or offensive about it), be sure to empty your bladder before you watch it.
For more on Tex Avery, get this book, which happens to be in my wishlist [hint].