Bob The Builder wins the American Presidency

"Can we change it?" "Yes we can?"

Here in the UK we have a children's television character called Bob the Builder. His catchphrase is "Can we fix it? - Yes we can!".

Barack Obama's acceptance speech echoed those words - "Yes we can", and he made it his own catchphrase, even getting the crowd to chant along with him. I think this positive approach is perhaps the only thing the two characters share. Here's the full speach hosted on CNN:

He certainly is a powerful public speaker. He also talks a great story about being a conviction politician. I love that story about the 106-year-old voter. In the UK, the most interesting thing we've seen in politics recently was the invention of "New Labour". That project was all about sales, image and public perception. Nothing to do with engaging with people's needs and concerns; more about keeping "us" in power and "them" out, and then justifying it with sales talk. I really hope that President Obama can deliver something very different for America. This is one politician I'll be watching without my normal cynicism. I so hope he doesn't turn out to be a disappointment.

Freecycle

A few weeks ago I was given four beds by three different people - all complete strangers.  They wanted to get rid of them, and I happened to need them - so they gave them to me.  

I've recently been clearing out my loft and had a lot of stuff I've accumulated over the years.  None of it was rubbish, so I wanted to give it away - so I did.  I gave it to people I didn't know who said they wanted it.  There was a cot, a couple of turntables, a slide projector, a negative ionizer, a couple of children's bicycles, some ADSL microfilters - and several other things.

My heating recently broke down.  As I'm replacing the boiler I didn't want to get it fixed, so I asked some complete strangers if they had some electric heaters they could spare.  Two different people came up with six dimplex heaters to tide me over till the new boiler was fitted.

A few years ago, this kind of transaction would have been the stuff of dreams.  Stuff went to the tip if you didn't know someone who wanted it.  You would never go round asking strangers for things you needed.  But the internet has changed all that.  The internet and a rather clever idea called Freecycle.  You can read all about it here, and find your nearest branch.

Freecycle is billed as a way to "keep stuff out of landfill".  I think it is far more than that.  In fact the issue of filling up landfill is a bit over-done and Freecycle probably doesn't even scratch the surface.  What Freecycle is, is a real community.  We hear about "online communities", which often means a group of people who communicate on-line but never meet.  Freecycle goes much further than this.  It's about local people being able to contact each other, know each others' needs and support each other.  That's far more valuable than any environmental ideal or any chatroom you can find anywhere else on the internet.

Political Correctness GONE MAD

This made me laugh

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/7643136.stm

Not only is it wrong to tell people which toilet they should use, but it wrong to say that it's political correctness "gone mad".  That might offend ... mad people ... like the green-haired lady in the interview. 

Smallcreep's Descriptive Writing

I think my father was always impressed by highly descriptive writing. When I was a teenager he recommended Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath to me, principally for the political message of the book (which turns out to be completely spurious, but that’s another story). However, he told me that his favourite passage in the book is a description of a tortoise crossing the road. Steinbeck devotes an entire chapter (albeit a very short one) to describing in minute detail the scene as the reptile climbs the bank, crosses the road and gets hit by a truck. I remember being very impressed by this passage myself. When Dad wrote his own book it gave him an opportunity to practice this style of writing for himself, and he made a very good job of it too. Here’s a video of Peter Currell Brown reading a passage from his book Smallcreep’s Day about some pipes on a wall.

It’s interesting that The Grapes of Wrath is a book with an intensely political message, and my Father was interested in the politics, but his favourite passage was a description of a natural event which appeared to have no bearing on the story whatsoever. Steinbeck may have intended the tortoise to be a metaphor, but that was lost on me as a teenager. Similarly, Smallcreep’s Day is a book with a political message, but Dad’s favourite passage is a description of something rather mundane – some pipes running round a wall. The way the words are used to describe the subject is far more important than the subject of the description. Are the pipes intended as a metaphor too?

Glow-worms

Glow-worms are one of those memories of childhood for me. I’d never actually seen one before, in spite of growing up in the English countryside, but they appear in children’s books so I grew up believing in them. They are so romantic -little insects that produce a light at night. The glow-worm in James and the Giant Peach provides light for the entire crew of the peach. But I didn’t know what they really looked like. When my mother told me that they lived near her, in a cemetery in Stroud, I was keen to go and take a look. At about 22:00 on a fine evening at the end of July we went up to the cemetery to see if we could find any. And we did! Two things surprised me about them; their colour and their intensity. Never having seen one, I had only ever imagined what they would be like. I had imagined a dull yellow glow that you would miss if you weren’t looking closely enough. But that’s not how they looked at all. The intensity was on a par with a green LED, such as you might have on the front of a T.V. And the colour was bright green – not the kind of colour I had imagined at all. We saw several of these lights in the long grass, but as we didn’t take a torch, I have no idea what the insect that made them looks like. I did try a photo, but there was not enough light for the autofocus, and without a flash all I got was a blur. But here is the blur so that you can appreciate the colour of the things.

O2 Broadband

Today I went live with O2 Broadband. They are about the only broadband provider that people actually recommend and don't complain about - them and Sky, and I can't get Sky unless I subscribe to their telly services at a minimum of £16 per month. O2 only put my exchange live last week, and it's taken them 8 days to migrate my line from Twang.net. Today at 08:50 I plugged in the modem, went through the O2 set-up procedure, and without any kind of drama I was live with a download speed of over 12 mbps and an upload speed of 1.1. The cost for this service is £15 per month and you get unlimited downloads as long as you don't abuse it. It helps that I'm only just over 1000 m from the exchange - not everyone will be so lucky, but if you can't get more than 8 mbps then they'll only charge you £12.50 a month. Better still, if you have a mobile contract with O2 they'll knock £5 per month off your bill, and if you don't, then you just get a free pay as you go SIM and use at least £10 per quarter you get the same discount. After 2 hours experience I'm happy to recommend O2 as a broadband provider. Let's hope the don't get bought by Carphone Warehouse!

Vectrix scooter revisited

Canary Wharf Motor Expo was on again this week, and I bumped into the people from Vectrix once again. This company makes an electric scooter called the Maxi Scooter which I rode a couple of years ago and was very impressed with (see my first blog on the subject).
A year on, the scooter hasn’t changed significantly, but the price tag certainly has. Last year they were retailing at over £7,000; now the price is £5,600 OTR. With petrol 15% higher in price and rising I needed to know if it would cope with my commute; so I asked to borrow it for the evening and ride home. They agreed; so on Thursday 2008-06-12 I was to pick up a fully charged scooter.
The economics, surprisingly, still don’t entirely add up, it has to be said. There is no doubt that now the Vectrix would save me money on my commute. If I was to sell my Pan European and go electric only then it would save a significant amount of money. However, that’s not practical – for example I’m riding the National Road Rally in a couple of weeks and that requires 870 km without stopping long enough for a recharge. Limiting the range to 110 km (at best) would not work. So the comparison has to compare the full cost of the Vectrix with the additional cost of riding the Honda to work.
First shock is the lifespan of the Vectrix battery. They are predicting it to go 10 years, or 80,000 km, or 1700 charging cycles. Given that I ride 25,000 km per year, that battery would last little more than 3 years. So the economics have to work on the bike being scrapped after 3 years (at least I don’t have to factor re-sale value into the equation). That means £146 per month in depreciation. Then the cost of borrow that extra money over three years works out at another £25 per month (that’s an optimistic number too). However, that depreciation might be overstated as the battery is supposed to be replaceable at a fraction of the cost of a new bike, so it might be possible to reduce that figure. Again, the cost of tyres is a deciding factor here – it’s by far the highest item on the running costs. I’m assuming maintenance can be mostly done by me, and allowed £50 per year, but these small wheels are going to go through around 3 rear tyres and probably one or more fronts per year. Apparently it’s quite heavy on rear brake pads too. That comes to another £40 per month, fitted. With another assumption on additional insurance costs, that brings the total monthly running to around £60. Adding up the running and financing costs, I reckon the scooter would cost £232 per month if it was used purely for commuting.
Comparing this to the cost of the Pan European, as I said, I have to remove costs that would be incurred if it sat in the garage all year. This includes tax, insurance most of the depreciation and one service per year. Pans keep their value quite well, but they also cover very high distances before they are fit for scrap. So I’ve allowed £40 per month for depreciation, and nothing for the cost of finance. The main costs are servicing, tyres and petrol, which come to around £200 per month. Two thirds of this is petrol, so it’s quite sensitive to rising petrol costs. If I assume a petrol cost of £2/litre then the number rises by £100 per month.

So the bottom line is:

• Vectrix cost per month £232
• Pan Euro cost per month £240
• Total saving per month - £8.

Hardly a convincing case, but I suppose if I could reduce that depreciation number it might make sense.

So I turned up at the Vectrix display on Thursday with my lid and leathers expecting to be given a key. A different salesman was on duty this time, and she was a little less optimistic than the chap I saw on Wednesday. She said they’d looked up my address and thought I’d struggle with the range. In fact they were pretty sure that I wouldn’t make the 55 km home if I went on the motorway. That range 110 km is only available if you use urban roads and keep the speed down to 50 km/h or below for most of your journey. Unfortunately that would leave me with at least a 90 minute commute – something I could have lived with for one evening, but not as a daily grind. They spoke about the new generation of battery that would be out in a year or two that might extend the range; and about the concept sportsbike they’ve got in pre-production already – that does 200 km/h with the same range as the scooter. But currently they have nothing to offer that would do my 55 km commute on the motorways and fast A-roads to Canary Wharf. Luckily the Pan European is still in fine fettle and should last at least another 100,000 km (4 years commuting) before I have to replace it. Perhaps the electric will have become practical by then. Who knows where the price of petrol, or indeed electricity will be by then.

National Road Rally 2008

See my other blog for full details.

Psalm 23 - The Lord is my Shepherd

I was recently discussing musical settings of Psalm 23 (The Lord is my Shepherd) with my eldest daughter. She went to a Church of England primary school, and therefore learnt a version of the song at school. But we use a different version at church, so we started trying to remember all the versions we had heard. There are so many, we eventually resorted to YouTube to remind us of the different tunes. There are even more versions there, so here’s my pick of the best and most interesting:

Anyone who was at school in the 1970s, even if they didn’t attend a church school, probably learnt the “Crimond” version:


My own favourite is the version by Howard Goodall. Those who know the BBC series The Vicar of Dibley will know the first and last verses, but may not know the middle bit. Here the Choir Boys sing it:


Here’s a Greek Orthodox version ... in greek:



The version we use at church is composed by Stuart Townend. I couldn't find it sung on YouTube, but here's the tune:


[Update - I did find a version with the words:]


Even a hip hop version (well, kind of):



One by John Rutter




Here’s an odd version composed by Joel Navarro, and performed by Sole Voce of Los Angeles



...and a version composed by an Australian opera singer Jason Barry-Smith and performed by an Australian youth choir:



Here’s Bob Chilcott's setting:



... and Keith Green's song:



Psalm 23 must be the best known psalm in entire psalter, and is probably one of the best know passages of the entire bible. Here are the words from the King James Authorized translation:

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green
pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he
leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I
walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou
art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table
before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my
cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of
my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

[Update: thank you to my contributor for pointing out the version known as Brother James' Air, which is in fact, the one we use at church. I didn't know it was called that, which is why I missed it. Here's a youtube example

Grohe Dump Valve

A few years ago I installed a new bathroom, and replaced the WC cistern with a concealed one. Not long after it was installed it started leaking water into the pan. It definitely wasn’t the overflow, and it was not too bad, so I left it to leak. It kept getting worse.

Now I remember some years ago hearing a debate about cisterns in this country and new EU regulations to free up the market. It used to be the case that a cistern had to have a siphonic valve to be legal in the UK. These are leak-proof by design. As soon as the cistern is empty, the siphon is lost and the water is trapped until the flush is operated again. The EU wanted the UK to drop the requirement for a siphonic flush because we were the only country in the world that manufactured them. Our rules were preventing import of cisterns from other EU countries, forming a trade barrier. Our bathroom manufacturers at the time claimed that other types of valve were not leak-proof, and therefore relaxing the regulation would cause a flood of wasted water to leak down our toilet pans. The EU won – and at the time I thought they were right – this was just protectionism masquerading as environmental concern. However, I have now been proved wrong. Non-siphonic cistern valves can and will leak, and when they do they are a pain to put right.

Eventually my cistern was leaking so badly that I had to do something about it. First of all I descaled it – we have extremely hard water and there was lots of lime scale in the cistern. That helped a bit, but after a few months it was leaking more than ever, and keeping us awake with its trickling noise. I took out the guts of the valve and took it to the local plumbers’ merchant to see if he could advise. “That’s a Grohe dump valve” he said; “if I could get hold of them I’d make a fortune.” Apparently these things are notorious, particularly in hard water areas. So over to Google to find out something about the Grohe dump valve and how you service them. I came across an interesting piece at How to mend it .com where someone had noticed a water bubble forming under the skin of the silicon washer. They said if you prick it with a pin you can remove the bubble, and allow the valve to seat properly. On inspection I found exactly such a bubble in both the washers in my valve. I pricked them with a pin, a tiny amount of water squirted out, and I was back in business. The thing now seals like new. Considering I had been contemplating replacing the cistern at a cost of at least £50, I think I’ve got off lightly. I wonder how long its’ going to last.

Update - see the epilogue

Christian Aid 2008

Next week is Christian Aid Week – the week when Christians from all the churches in the country will be knocking on doors and asking people to donate to this very worthy charity. I was recently speaking to some people from my church who have been collecting for this cause for many years. I was surprised to find that few of them enjoy the job of walking round the parish, knocking on doors and begging for donations to help the poorest people in the world. Most of them, it seems, do the job because it’s a job worth doing, and not because they enjoy it. One person commented that door-to-door collecting is a very old fashioned way of raising money. Christian Aid is one of very few charities who still fund themselves in this way.

So this year they've decided to use some new technology to support this very worthy cause. If you would like to make a donation to Christian Aid without someone having to come out to knock on your door and ask you to fill an envelope with cash, then use our fund raising page to make a donation with your credit- or debit card. It’s a simple transaction – just click the “Donate” button on the widget above to visit the virtual door-to-door collection page. They don't guarantee that you won’t also get a call from a collector; but if you tell them you’ve already donated on-line I'm sure they’ll be delighted to leave without the traditional envelope full of cash.

The Iron Bridge

Many years ago a temporary foot bridge was built over the River Stort in Bishop’s Stortford linking a car park outside a Chinese restaurant with a car park outside the train station. It’s was never much of a bridge, but it served a purpose of allowing pedestrians, many of them hurrying to catch a train, to cross half way between the two available road crossings, thereby saving themselves a walk of about 1000 metres.

A couple of years ago the council got a lottery grant to put something more aesthetically pleasing in place. The project has the rather utilitarian title of “Bishop’s Stortford Goods Yard Bridge”. The main drawback with the old bridge was that it had quite steep steps up each side, so it was out of bounds to mothers with prams and pushchairs. The new bridge design is to have shallow ramps up each side, almost parallel with the river, with steps providing a shortcut for unencumbered, able-bodied pedestrians. Work started a few months ago, and they removed the old bridge and replaced it with an even less inspiring, even more temporary wooden affair, a few metres downstream of the original. Ground work then began to build the foundations for the new structure.

A few weeks ago I walked that way to the station in the morning, and noticed that some of the structure had started to arrive. Then last week I again walked that way for some reason, and was able to witness what may have been the first person to cross the new bridge. All they had in place were the pedestrian steps up one side and down the other, and a section of the main span linking the two. A workman was crossing over to tighten some bolts on the other side. It looked smaller than I was expecting, but it was far from complete. That evening I walked back that way, and the bridge was open – my first chance to cross it.

Since then, the rest of the bridge has continued to go up, and it’s as massive as I was expecting. Have a look at this.

British Summer Time (and the living is easy)

We’ve finally made it to the last weekend in March, when the British put their clocks forward to British Summer Time (BST), or Greenwich Mean Time(GMT) + 1 hour. The long winter nights are finally over, and it will be light for our journey home from work all the way through until November when the clocks will be set back to GMT for another five months. The only questions now is why on earth we only advance our clocks by one hour, and why do we use GMT all through the winter months. It would increase the quality of our lives enormously if we were to use GMT +1 hour during the winter and GMT + 2 hours during the summer. Why don’t the British do that?

Arguments in favour of this change:

1. It would put us on the same time zone as most of Europe, improving communication and increasing the ease of business transactions
2. It would increase the amount of daylight we are exposed to during at least 4 months of the year, thus reducing the incidence of Seasonal Affective Disorder, a form of depression associated with lack of daylight during the winter months.
3. It would save about 200 lives per year on our roads. Drivers are more alert during the morning, and thus keeping the daylight for the evening hours would reduce accidents including fatal ones during the dark evenings.
4. It would reduce the number of hours we need to light our homes and streets, saving some energy (thought there seems to be a debate about exactly how much). (In the USA the lighting issue is offset by increased use of air conditioning; but in the UK we don’t have the same consideration.)

A recent petition on the Downing Street website asked the government to switch to consider changing to Central European Time (i.e. GMT+1/GMT+2), and in response the government trotted out a list of reasons why they didn’t want to make this change. Most of these arguments were established in the 1970s when a trial of leaving the clocks on BST all year was undertaken for a couple of years. Indeed I remember as a child being dressed in reflective clothing to keep me safe during the dark mornings.

Arguments against the change:

1. Farmers prefer to have lighter mornings in the winter
2. The construction industry prefers to start work early, and this is affected by dark mornings in the winter
3. In Scotland the mornings are darker because they are further north. They prefer the light at the start of the day.
4. Milk and postal delivery people don’t like dark mornings
5. It is dangerous for school children to travel to school during the dark mornings. As the schools come out earlier than offices, children don’t benefit from the shift to light evenings.

However, that was the 1970s and much has changed since then which out-dates most of these arguments:

1. The number of people working the land has decreased, and the number of people driving cars to work has increased – in both cases the changes have been dramatic.
2. Scotland has far more autonomy, and could easily be allowed to set its own time zone
3. Milk deliveries have all but disappeared, and the postal service no longer attempts to deliver before breakfast
4. After-school clubs and social activities, and a general shift to all parents working have meant that children are travelling much later in the day and therefore exposed to the dark evenings in winter.
5. So that leaves only the construction companies affected by any such change. My only comment on that is that changing the clocks does not change the number of hours of daylight – simply the time at which it is light.

I have considered changing my own habits to allow me more daylight in the evenings. If I were to get up an hour earlier, go to work an hour earlier and leave the office an hour earlier I wouldn’t need everyone else to change. However, that’s not as easy as I first seems. I already get up at 06:00, so adjusting it any further would require a bedtime so early that I would have to drop out of society entirely. And anyone who has ever worked in an office will know that getting in early is easy; leaving early is another matter entirely. My other option is to move to France, where they use Western European Time. If I could figure out a way to maintain my income from France then that is what I would do. As it is, I find it simpler to remain in the UK and whinge for 5 months of the year.

Dem Bones

When I got up at 04:00 on Easter Sunday, I did not do so for fame. I simply wanted to be present at the first Eucharist of Easter at my church. A few hardy souls had spent the night in vigil at the church, not sleeping till Easter dawned. But I was driving to Wales on Sunday, so I needed my sleep. I did not voluteer to read the old testament reading because I wanted to be broadcast on the internet - I simply wanted to participate in the service, and Father John asked me if I'd like to read. I was unaware until today that Dr Durrant had brought his video camera along to the service. And so it was that this morning I discovered that my voice, and a dark image of my face, are on YouTube, reading the valley of the bones passage from Ezekiel. It's a bit dark, but this was dawn - about 05:30 on 2008-03-23 (and the temparature was about -3 C). The sound isn't brilliant, but I didn't read it very well, so that's perhaps just as well.

Passion Plays

This Holy Week I've been watching a couple of interesting new dramatisations of the passion story. First the BBC's excellent The Passion, serialised over the week, and last night I saw Redemption Song by the Riding Lights Theatre Company. Both pieces have given me plenty of new angles on this familiar story.
The Passion depicting not only the familiar characters, but attempting to capture the background of the politics of the time. It brings new light to the characters of Pontius Pilate and Caiaphas, also giving some interesting insights into Jesus Barabas and even to Judas Iscariot.
Redemption Song emphasised the Roman occupation of Judea, and used this as a metaphor for the occupation of our souls by sin. It also placed great emphasis on "the tradition" (i.e. Judaism), throwing the Roman occupation into even starker contrast - two peoples living different lives in the same city. Anyone in York or Southampton this week should make an effort to see this play. I left the theatre feeling I needed to go on a retreat to think through all the new ideas.

More on the Wake

Someone took a video camera to the CMG wake, and so our evening is now immortalised on youtube, including an interview with Barbara Ward, the former HR director of CMG.
I think this was made later in the evening, judging by the fact that the crowds have thinned a little, and someone is waving money at the bar staff. I have now found out that there were 47 donors to the kitty, giving a total of some GBP7,500.

CMG Wake

The CMG Wake last Friday was a really good night. I arrived at The Knights Templar in Chancery Lane some time after 18:00 to find the place already packed to bursting point. The first impressions on opening the door were of a sea of people and wall of noise. In spite of the high ceiling, the sheer number of conversations taking place in this great hall reverberated round the place and hit you as great din. People were packed so tightly into the pub that it took some 10 minutes, perhaps more, to cross the room and reach the bar. Thanks to a handful of very generous people there was a tab open for anyone waving a slip of paper saying “CMG”. The smart ones had diversified out of CMG shares during the good times, and locked in the profits before the dot.com bubble burst; there were probably a good few millionaires in the room and some people were kind enough to stand us all a few drinks.

I was tempted to buy myself two drinks to save fighting my way back to the bar, but decided against it. One hand had to be free for hand-shaking. And how many hands I shook that evening! After 15 years with the company, there were so many people I’d worked with and lost touch with. And many people I knew by sight, or by reputation. There were people kitted out in CMG ties and scarves, T-shirts and baseball caps. I heard so many tales of what people were up to now. Quite a few still working for Logica; many now moved on to pastures new; some living lives of leisure; others running their own businesses; one or two looking for new challenges as the came to the end of redundancy packages.

The bar tab was finally exhausted by 20:00, but this didn’t deter many people, and the pub continued to be just as crowded for a couple more hours until I left. Photos of the event are available at http://wakeywakey.dreamhosters.com – I haven’t spotted myself in any of these yet, but there are plenty that give an impression of quite how busy the place was. I have a tape of the 25^th anniversary song “Nobody does IT better, and as soon as I can get it copied to MP3 I’ll post it there too.

I’d like to thank John Sharp for organising the evening. I wonder if that’s the last we’ll hear of CMG, or will this become a regular reunion. I somehow think that CMG was such a big part of so many people’s lives it won’t be forgotten quickly.

CMG R.I.P.

In 1990 I got a job with a fairly small IT services company called CMG. Over the next 10 years it grew steadily into a medium sized IT services company. There was an incredible sense of community in the company. All the shares were held by the staff and there were regular after work updates on how business was going - followed by drinks on the company. When the company went public in the December 1995 it made quite a few millionaires over night, and over the following few weeks, as the share price went through the roof (sadly I was not among them). At one point during the dot.com bubble the company was worth something like 70 times the floatation price, and many employees had aquired shares at a fraction of that price . However, during those heady, frothy days at the turn of the century, CMG made a rather poor investment in merging with an overpriced and over large IT services company called Admiral. As a result of that deal, and the should-have-been predictable collapse in IT stocks a few months later, CMG became a take-over target itself; and in December 2002 was bought up (they say "merged", but we all know the truth) by Logica, forming LogicaCMG. I left LogicaCMG in 2005. Today, LogicaCMG has renamed itself to just "Logica", so CMG now officially no longer exists.

One long-serving member of CMG has organised a "wake" to mourn the loss of this great name. About 700 former employees will be meeting in a pub in the City of London on Friday evening 2008-02-29 to re-live the good times for the last time. CMG, R.I.P.

Why can’t they just apologise

Have you ever complained about something? Have you ever had your complaint taken seriously? Or do you just get fobbed off? I’ve found an increasingly common response to any complaint is “well you’re the first complaint we’ve ever had” with this implication that it’s good enough for everyone else, so you can bloody well put up with it too.

Here’s an example: a website called Intelligent Giving. It’s a very interesting website, and I may well do a post about them. But the site includes a feature they call the “Karma Calculator”. In essence, you answer a brief questionnaire and the calculator generates some insults, hiding behind the excuse of being “light-hearted”. I found it utterly offensive, so I wrote to complain as follows:

"I like your website and find the information you give very interesting. However, I did not like your 'karma calculator' one bit. I appreciate that it is intended to be "light hearted", but to be honest, I don't find sarcastic insults very funny. I am not confused - just in search of the type of information that your site seems to contain; I do understand the difference between philanthropy and misanthropy; and I do not appreciate being compared to a character from an odious American cartoon show. I suggest you re-write this nasty piece of software before you alienate any more of your potential customers."

Their response:

“Thanks for getting in touch. I'm sorry you don't like our Karma Calculator. However, over 6,000 people have used the Calculator since our site launched and yours is the first complaint we have received. We believe it fulfils its function as a light-hearted spur to giving.

I hope you profit from using other areas of our site.”

OK, so they used the “S” word, but did they take on board what I said? But they’re doing their best to do a good job, so look them up and read what’s on their site. Just steer clear of that “Karma” thingy. http://www.intelligentgiving.com/

Pineapple Slicer Gadget

Do you eat fresh pineapple? Or do you find that the hassle of pealing the things isn’t worth it? I’m sure someone has told you that there’s a way to cut the skin so that it comes off in a spiral, but no one has ever actually been able to demonstrate this trick. Then there’s always a hard core down the middle that you have to cut out.

I was given a gadget for Christmas that makes pineapples easy to eat. It’s a pineapple slicer, and it’s dead easy to use. All it is, is a plastic tube with a plastic cutting disk on one end. It’s hollow, with a removable handle. Watch this:

Cut off the top of the pineapple and place the slicer on top of the pineapple and twist, applying a bit of pressure.

Continue to twist until it reaches the bottom of the fruit

Pull the slicer out

Remove the handle, and the spiral of edible fruit comes off

The pineapple skin and woody core is left behind. You could even fill this with ice cream and freeze it.

Now all I need is a source of reasonably priced pineapples.

Airto Moriera

Last week I was on my own, feeling rather depressed and tired. Having no enthusiasm for anything I resorted to channel surfing on the telly. Not being in the mood for comedy, drama or light entertainment, I found a Dizzy Gillespie concert on Mainstreet TV. I’m not a great jazz fan, but it was a case of nothing better to watch so I settled down to take in at least a few minutes. It was a concert recorded at the Royal Festival Hall, I would guess in the 1990s.

The very next number featured Flora Purim, “The Queen” as she was introduced. Things were looking up! Half way through this piece there was a drum solo. Watching the drummer, I started thinking that I wished I could play drums. The mood I was in, I just wanted to lose myself in something; and to lose yourself in creating rhythm by smacking the hell out a drum kit must be a really therapeutic experience. After a couple of minutes, the drummer handed over the solo to the percussionist, and this bit blew my mind. Thinking about losing myself in a rhythm, I was faced with a man who was doing exactly that. He got more and more wild and passionate until I thought he would explode.

At the end of the concert when the credits came up I found that this man was non other than Airto Moriera. I don’t know much about Airto, but back in the 1980s a girlfriend gave me a tape of Flora Purim and Airto which had greatly impressed me. I played it all the time for a while, but for some reason I never looked up the two performers any further. (This was before the internet I suppose.) I did once stumble into Ronnie Scott’s, absolutely plastered one evening in the 1990s to find Flora Purim on stage. Unfortunately I was so drunk that it was all I could do to recognise the voice – I remember nothing else about the concert. I have also managed to buy a CD by each of them at some time, but I’ve never got round to listening to either of them much. I’m putting that straight right now - as I write this I’m listening to “Seeds on the Ground” by Airto.

I tried to record the concert (mainstreet always show things several times), but my VHS recorder is a bit temperamental, and I didn’t get a copy. Unfortunately they don’t seem to be repeating this concert; but of course interesting musical pieces always pop up on youtube, and this one is no exception. So here is that drum solo – feast your eyes and ears (and toes) on this – Airto takes over just about 2 minutes into the video.

Needle Phobic Gives Blood

This week I gave blood. A fairly mundane activity for most people, but for me it’s always a great joy to do. Up until a few years ago I suffered from needle-phobia and could rarely get through a donation session. I successfully gave blood the first time I tried, at the age of 18, but after that occasion it became an ordeal which was rarely fruitful.
The first time I had a problem was when I was in my first term at university. I was standing in a queue to sign my name, and all of a sudden I started to feel light-headed and then experienced tunnel vision. I had to sit down and put my head between my knees. After that, whenever I went along to a donor session, I would suffer from all manner of problems:

• Light-headedness
• Nausea
• Palpitations
• Cod sweats
• Shortness of breath
• Tunnel vision
• Shaking (so much I couldn’t sign my name)
• Inability to remember my address (I once gave one I hadn’t lived at for 20 years)

That all made the process of blood donation a bit of an ordeal, and since this mainly happened before I’d even had the finger prick, there was little point me attending. (One time I did give successfully was on the day I my (former) wife crashed the car with our two children in. They didn’t need any blood as it happened, but it made me so thankful for the health service that I just went along to my nearest donor session and had no problems at all.)
The turning point was a few years ago when I did a training course in NLP. The trainer described how some people react to the ordeal of standing up and speaking in public; and it sounded to me very similar to my needle-phobia. The technique they proposed was called the Circle of Excellence, and over lunch I asked if they could take me through it in detail. So we set up my circle that I could step into to keep myself calm and relaxed and off I went to a donor session a the local church hall the very next day to see if it would work. And it did work. I was able to wait 20 minutes for my name to be called, sign my consent, give my correct address, have a prick test, and then lie down and make a full donation with no adverse effects. Since then I’ve given twice a year, and only once had to lie down afterwards. The ordeal is all in the past now.
The fascinating thing is that my symptoms seemed so physical, it was difficult to believe that this was all caused by my thinking. Clearly it was, since there had rarely been any needles involved, except in my head. But the result of some unconscious interaction between my mind and my body was completely debilitating.
So here’s the moral at the end – don’t ever believe that you “could never do that”, whatever that may be. It’s all in the mind, no matter how much it feels like a medical condition. It’s your mind and your body. You just have to learn the techniques to get them to work for you and not against you.

Recycle it?

I got a leaflet through my door today from Boots. I didn't ask for it and I didn't want it, but it came all the same, using my address and lying on my doormat. On the bottom of the leaflet it says "Recycle. When you have finished with this leaflet, please recycle it."
What's that all about then? Why is it my responsibility to recycle this leaflet? If they have a concern about the state of our landfills then they should bloody well make sure that they only send leaflets to people who want them, and not force them down our throats. Conversely, if they care more about their marketing campaigns than about the state of our landfills, they should leave it to me to decide how to deal with the problem they've created for me.
(It's a side issue, but recycling is the most inefficient way of dealing with most waste known to man. If anyone is really concerned about landfill space then they should be campaigning to have incinerators built to deal with it.)

Ignorance and Want

“Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask,” said Scrooge, looking intently at the Spirit's robe, “but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw!”
“It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it,” was the Spirit's sorrowful reply. “Look here.”
From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children; wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment.
“Oh, Man! look here. Look, look, down here!” exclaimed the Ghost.
They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.
Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him in this way, he tried to say they were fine children, but the words choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lie of such enormous magnitude.
“Spirit! are they yours?” Scrooge could say no more.
“They are Man's,” said the Spirit, looking down upon them. “And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!” cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city. “Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse! And bide the end!”
“Have they no refuge or resource?” cried Scrooge.
“Are there no prisons?” said the Spirit, turning on him for the last time with his own words. “Are there no workhouses?”
The bell struck twelve.

From A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

Smoking Ban, 6 months on.

This week marks 6 months since the ban on smoking in public places in England. And who would want to go back? I’m instinctively a libertarian and dislike rules and regulations (at least that’s how I like to think of myself), but in the case of smoking, something went seriously wrong with human communication and consideration. Smokers used to ask “do you mind if I smoke?” with no intention of taking “yes I bloody well do” for an answer. Why did anyone ever expect it would be OK to fill the air of a room with foul smelling smoke just because they were addicted to a drug? Why have we put up with this for so long?
I don’t work in a bar, so I can’t speak for those who do, but I don’t think this was ever a health issue for anyone. It’s always been the case that non-smokers would return from an evening out with their clothes and hair stinking of stale smoke. It was disgusting. I’m glad it’s over, not because of the threat to my health or anyone else’s. Simply because inhabiting an indoor public space is now so much more relaxing. I was lucky over the last 10 years to travel from Liverpool Street Station, where smoking has been banned on “safety” grounds. Whenever I had to travel out of other mainline stations in the rush hour, I used to find it foul. Standing in a tightly packed crowd of people waiting for the train’s platform to be announced, and having to breathe other people’s smoke.
The only shame is that the current ban doesn’t cover the street. Walking down the road behind a smoker is just as unpleasant as it ever was. Outside a pub is now the least pleasant place to be on a summer afternoon, as it doubles for a smoking room. So next time someone comes and stands next to you and fills the air with acrid smoke, the correct and polite response is to say to them:
“Excuse me, do you mind, but I was breathing that air!”


I have no wish to see a ban on the consumption of tobacco for those who wish to continue to use it. But I don't think it unreasonable to ask people to keep it to their own private residence, and not inflict it on the rest of us.