A list of things, both good and ropey.

OK, where to begin?

Doctor Who – can you really claim that “magic is just science you don’t understand yet” when the science is total bobbins? No? Thought not. Anyway, I would have loved the meeting where they reviewed the script and cast.  “Alright guys, we’ve got two smoking hot redheads and several HD cameras.  How can we best ruin this for everyone?”

Also, slightly questionable morality in letting self-confessed, proud murderers loose in a spaceship. Just because the Captain reconciled with his son, does that instantly reform the rest of them? No? Thought not.

York – I love York, it’s brilliant.  All twisty-turny and full of unique little businesses and nice restaurants.  Hull might have had a growth spurt in the last few years but that just means it has a new shopping centre with a second GAME store.  No competition.

Tokyo Joe’s, in York – not the fastest service in the world, but they do some excellent sushi.  Their mixed sushi bento does not skimp or cut corners and you get a decent amount and variety for a very reasonable 13.50. Very tasty.

Continue reading “A list of things, both good and ropey.”

Genuinely freaky search engine tomfoolery, and enough (pop) culture to choke a pig with.

So the day after I did my top five rundown of search terms that led to the frustrated, insane and deranged of this planet to hit up my site, I discovered that someone had found me by entering the words “grave of fireflies shit urine seita” into Google.

Terrifying.

Thankfully it calmed down almost instantly back to the level baseline of people looking for Bejeweled Blitz cheats.  My homepage gets a lot of mileage out of that rant, I can tell you; hence why I refer back to it regularly.

So anyway.  Lisa and I went to see a play tonight; Shakers, at the Hull Truck Theatre.  I enjoyed it, for what it was, but the whole multiple-character vignette thing it had going isn’t my normal thing.  I guess being raised on the cut-and-paste template of three-act adventure movies hasn’t helped me out a lot on that front.  Plus, it reminded me of The Steamie, albeit a version creaking under the strain of having to lever in a seemingly-endless string of Eighties references.

At some points it wasn’t too bad; just a gentle poke every now and then for scene-setting purposes, but the actual interaction of the characters suggesting that people are people, irrespective of the generation.  Sadly, it wasn’t to last, with a badly-shoehorned conflict that climaxes unnecessarily in a barrage of political name-dropping related to the miner’s strike.

Overall it was quite a good show.  There were a lot of humorous little touches all the way through – including one unintentional one where one of the players put on a Scots accent and, as the scene progressed, transmogrified into a South African –  and the character monologues were generally good (although one was a little oddly placed with regards to the play).

Funnily enough, the part that struck me the most was watching an usher slip into the theatre for the last two minutes, kick off the applause at the appropriate moment, and then duck out as the house lights began to rise.  Do they always do this at the theatre now?  I felt a little bit patronised, to be honest.  I know when to fucking clap, all right?

Oh.  Yes.  The End of Time, part two.  Praise be to our Lord and Saviour Jesus H. Christ that Russell T. Davies is done.  He can now happily go off to an island somewhere and congratulate himself forever, as that appears to be what makes him happiest.  As for the episode, it’s going to be used forevermore as an illustration of the term pastiche.  I’ve never seen so many Sci-Fi references piled up one atop the other.  A Star Wars space battle with Star Trek running across the bridge that tilts crazily with every near-miss, in a Firefly-themed rebuild of Starbug from Red Dwarf?  I was just disappointed that they could kill off the Doctor in a radiation-filled glass chamber and not have him clap a hand to Bernard Cribbin’s head for a mind meld.

“I’m sorry Wilf, but I have no time to explain this logically…REMEMBER.”

It would’ve been worth it.

Beethoven’s Fifth, the new soundtrack to my life.

One of the birthday cards I got last week is a musical one.  It plays about sixteen or so bars of Beethoven’s fifth, lifted from a 2002 performance by the Royal Philharmonic.  I now use it to add dramatic weight to even the most mundane of sentences.

“Want a cup of tea?” DA DA DA DUUUUUUM!   DA DA DA DUUUUUM!

Brilliant.  I’m certain Lisa isn’t quite so enamoured as she was the first fifteen times I did it.

Right now I’m registering and installing the software that came with my camera.  It’s probably not worth the install but my computer is so application-light that I might as well do it anyway.  it makes me feel as though I’m actually using the system as something other than Firefox-in-a-box through which I get my daily dose of “news”.  Today’s “news”, of course, is that a fuck-and-tell blogger with associated book and t.v. deal has revealed her identity to prevent being outed by the Daily Mail.

It’s a laudable aim, I suppose, but that won’t really stop all the students in her department looking at her funny and swapping comments about being “well-travelled” and/or the possession of physiological features that resemble the top end of a wellington boot.

Next week, I suppose, she’ll be telling the papers about how telling the papers has affected her life or some other shit that supposedly eases her conscience and increases understanding but really just pads out her bank balance a little more and makes everyone around her increasing discomfited.

Back on the software thing, I’ve just clicked on my fourth licence agreement during this install.  That can’t be right, can it?  Four licences for one program…or maybe it’s a bundle of programs.  They’re taking long enough to get on the system.  I should’ve just stuck with MS paint.  That’s about my level.

One save draft and a reboot later, and I’m uploading images to Flickr.  Woo, and indeed, yay.  While that interminable process grinds away, I should probably go over what Alistair got me for my birthday.  First up, a bottle of Glengoyne 10 y.o. single malt, which is nice, although I haven’t tasted it yet.  We had a cocktail and a bottle of wine with dinner at Alistair’s on Saturday night and I’m such a lightweight that I had to stop drinking right after dinner to make sure I’d be fit to drive the next day.  It’s not something to be really proud of, that I just can’t drink beyond a certain point anymore, but it’s better that I’m upfront about it.  Not vomiting for the entire day afterwards is a reward in itself.

He also bought me some books: The Stuff of Thought by Steve Pinker, Proust and the Squid by Maryanne Wolf, The Elements of Style by Strunk Jr. and White, and a digital photography book.  The last one I’m not going to link due to me encountering a vicious dislike of the author on opening the book.  He spends a good five pages right at the start promoting his other books, website, newsletter, promotions, etc, and therefore really doesn’t need any help from this quarter.

Hrm.  65% uploaded.  What else can I talk about?

Doctor Who, oh yes.  Spoilers after the jump.

Continue reading “Beethoven’s Fifth, the new soundtrack to my life.”