Turned Out Nice Again

Monday, May 26, 2003


Top story in this week's Eastbourne Herald - though unfortunately not the front page headline - is the ongoing case surrounding a pensioner who allegedly murdered his wife after a row over a stewed apple dessert. Honestly. The basic prosecution plot is that he asked his wife if she wanted the dessert, she said no, she wanted a divorce, so he shot her.

In the interests of balance, the basic defence plot was that he intended only to scare her, and didn't realise that the shotgun was loaded when he "pretended" to shoot her - he only intended to load the shotgun after this, in order to commit suicide.

Sounds bizarre? Then it's in keeping with their marriage, in which he apparently agreed that she could be unfaithful to him, as long as she stayed with him and satisfied his "domestic and sexual needs". In his defence, he says "She wanted a Daimler, so I bought it, it was a bloody expensive vehicle". A Daimler versus stewed apple? I know who was getting the better deal there...

He denies murder, and the case continues - which could have been avoided had he committed the suicide he'd intended after shooting her...



Update (30 May): Yesterday he was found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to six years imprisonment. The judge said that he'd "lost control" after being asked for a divorce. The moral of this story? Stewed apple - it's just not worth it.
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The Eurovision debacle: Political voting, dodgy monitor or talentless Scousers? My money's on a bit of all three.

I tried my best not to watch, but once again I found myself drawn towards the TV remote, and before I knew where I was, my fingers were selecting BBC1, and the damage was done. Fortunately I'd fought the good fight until about entry 18, so I missed Jemini's effort.

When all is said and done, I don't think Cry Baby deserved nul points - there were plenty worse than that - including the runner-up Belgian entry (which wasn't even sung in a proper language) and the Turkish winner. But then it's a competition of opinions, and opinions are like arseholes - everyone has one. Even now though, I find it hard to believe that so many countries liked the Turkish entry, yet not one of 25 could find anything remotely likeable about the UK entry. Finishing bottom I can cope with - the ignominy of no points I cannot. Still, with a bit of luck that should end Jemini's pop careers, so it's not all bad news.

As for blaming dodgy monitors? "Latvian technology", to extend a sterotype, is an oxymoron, so it's possible. And was the (non) voting a backlash against the war in Iraq? I suspect so - and wouldn't it be fun to see "responsible for Britain's worst ever Eurovision result" on Tony Blair's political epitaph?

For me, as ever, the best thing on Eurovision was Terry Wogan's commentary - another wonderful performance. How long, I wonder, before interactive television allows you to listen to Tel's commentary whilst switching off the singing - a reverse of interactive football which allows you to switch off the commentary and listen to the crowd noise only. I also enjoyed Slovenia's "jury foreman" - a wannabe children's TV presenter - who fully understanding the importance of his nation's vote on the outcome, announced: "I'm sure you want to hear the Slovenian votes, so here I go..." and promptly walked offscreen in classic comedy style. Priceless.

As an observation - and perhaps mentioning Tatu will increase my chances of Google referrals - for a couple who couldn't care less about the competition, the Russian entry seemed delighted with each douze points that came their way. Amusing too, to see Russia booed by the Latvian crowd every time they scored points, yet in a twist of classic irony, the Latvian vote gave Tatu maximum points...
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Friday, May 23, 2003


U.S. interrogators are using heavy metal to break the wills of Iraqi captives. Apparently the line from Metallica's Enter Sandman - 'Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight' - is particularly good at encouraging the captives to talk. The report describes the music as "culturally offensive". Now that's a bit harsh - especially as I'm a fan of Enter Sandman. As well as Metallica's finest, the interrogators are also using Drowning Pool, and Barney the dinosaur. Maybe "culturally offensive" wasn't so far off the mark after all...
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Thursday, May 22, 2003


I spent today at the Chelsea Flower Show. Not my usual kind of haunt, but my mum has wanted to go for years, so armed with some discounted tickets from the social club at work, I treated her. And it was a surprisingly pleasant day out, if you ignored the crowds - particularly whenever a TV camera popped into view. We watched Charlie Dimmock and Monty Don preparing to present a piece from James Dyson's much-vaunted "Wrong Garden". And if you thought it would take a crew of about two to produce such a piece, think again - I think I counted at least eight. I overheard someone say "let's go, it's not worth standing around watching people standing around" - but at least they weren't queueing to stand and watch people standing around, which given the queues for the show gardens was quite possible.

So I've seen all sorts of floral arrangements, all sorts of garden tools, furniture, statues and other ornaments - from the sublime to the ridiculous - but the stand I think deserves a mention here most was the Natural Driftwood Sculptures... ...that's any old tatty piece of wood picked off your local beach and stuck in the ground at a jaunty angle, to you and me. Money for old rope (figuratively, not literally)...
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As The Matrix Reloaded premiered last night, it reminded me of the time I watched The Matrix itself. It was the first DVD I bought, and I played it on a Dolby 5.1 system. I remember sitting there, amazed by the effects, sound bolstered by my new DVD system. Jaw-dropping effect after jaw-dropping effect, I was completely drawn into the movie. Then suddenly the credits rolled, and I found myself thinking "what happened to the storyline?". Is the sequel any different, I wonder? Perhaps I should watch The Matrix again, and try and see beyond the effects to see if there is a storyline in there that I just missed the first time around.
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Wednesday, May 21, 2003


This weekend brings the Eurovision Song Contest. Every year I say to myself that I won't - nay mustn't - watch, but every year I find myself drawn like a rubbernecker to a particularly nasty car crash. It's interesting to read how seriously so many nations take the competition, compared to the UK.

This year's competition is of course spiced up by the Russian entry, Tatu, and I can imagine the competition's already huge viewing figures will be increased - assuming they aren't disqualified first.

And when all the talking is over, no doubt I will have sat through the whole shebang (no, that's not a reference to Tatu's stage show), laughed at countless ridiculous costumes; winced at some embarrassing performances; bemoaned, Wogan-style, the voting; and resolved not to do the same next year...
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There seems to be a big kerfuffle over the BBC's The Big Read, the top 100 of which were announced at the weekend. I haven't paid much attention to the process, because I'm not a big reader, particularly of the classics, and I didn't imagine that I'd have read many of the top 100. My reading is sporadic and obscure; I like Andrew Harman. Andrew who? Exactly. I've read Nick Hornby, but never read any Tolkien. I imagined that the only books I'd have read would have been those I read at school, under sufferance.

When Nick gave his thoughts on the top 100, and disclosed that he'd read 20, I thought I'd have a look and see how I fared. It transpires that I've read six. And with one exception, I was right - I read them at school. I haven't counted, but I think I've seen more on film and TV. Now there's an indictment of life...

And would you have guessed it - no Andrew Harman...
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Monday, May 19, 2003


Which Season One Blakes 7 Character Are You?
How could any self-respecting fan of dodgy sci-fi resist? (via What You Can Get Away With and from Quizilla)

VILA: "Any very talented person could have done it." --

Sure, you're a slacker. Sure, you're unreliable. Sure, you'll take anything that's not nailed down. And, yeah, you're physically unimpressive. But you bring the mad skillz-- even if you have to be threatened and bullied into risking danger to use them. You'd think people would appreciate you more! Where are the virgins in red fur!


Physically unimpressive? Yeah, that's me. But a kleptomaniac? Never!! As for the virgins, I'm saying nothing, you never know when the wife might be reading... :-)
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Wednesday, May 14, 2003


Hooray! hooray!
Thirteenth of May
"Sex in Eastbourne" referral today!

Thanks to this and Google. Who says sex doesn't pay?
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As an aside to the story below, when I made representations to my manager, she told me of a large dot-com who closed their telephone helpdesk in favour of an e-mail based system. Shortly after, they were forced to employ a helpdesk workforce all of whom were over the age of 40, as no-one any younger could spell properly. The younger staff were gr8 @ txting tho. I am clearly getting old...
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Though my academic background is mathematical, there are one or two things in written English that really bug me - and the greatest of these is the (mis)use of the apostrophe. As someone involved in the I.T. industry, for many years I have tolerated, through gritted teeth, reports referring to more than one computer as "PC's", multiple shiny circular disks that go in the said computers as "CD's", and so on.

Now I don't profess to be an apostrophe guru, but I do believe that people should be familiar with its use (or more accurately non-use) with plurals. I have always said to those who have misused the apostrophe in the ways described above "You wouldn't refer to multiple seating devices as chair's, would you?", and they have agreed. Until today.

Today at work I have received a presentation that has been distributed to a number of high-level managers for cascade. It refers to "members" and "reasons", but also "incentive's", "initiative's" and "process's". A mathematician I may be, but this is an insult to the English language. Searching for a reason for this affrontery, I decided that the rule of grammar being followed here is that plurals require apostrophes when the singular ends in a vowel - the exception to the rule (as all good grammar rules should have an exception) being words ending in "ss", because these would become "processs" otherwise.

If George Bush was an educated man, he would order an immediate air strike against the purveyor of this tosh. And for once, I am inclined to agree with him...
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Tuesday, May 13, 2003


Conversation at Castle Rock this evening as Mrs Rock studies the instructions and recipe guide that accompanies her newly purchased bread maker:
Mrs Rock: "So what's the difference between a sandwich loaf and a normal loaf?"
Dr Rock: "It makes it squarer"
Mrs Rock: "Oh, right"

There's one born every minute!!
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Saturday, May 10, 2003


Over at VeryVeryBored, Mr VVB has been taking a dip into the world of The Idler and Crap Towns: The 50 Worst Places to Live In The UK. This weekend's Eastbourne Herald takes up the fight against Eastbourne's nomination with defence from the owners of the maligned Arndale shopping centre and the water treatment works. Interestingly enough, the borough council declined to comment - a case of "it's a fair cop, guv"?

This attack on the town comes hot on the heels of a Sussex Business Enterprise report that did nothing to change the sterotypical view that Eastbourne is a place where people come to die, and a front page headline that shouted in an inordinately large font "BLOW UP THE PIER". This was the suggestion of a visiting MP (if memory serves), which at best was tactless given that it came during the early stages of the war with Iraq. Fortunately the circulation of the Eastbourne Herald amongst the US military is low, otherwise it could have been seen as an invitation that I'm sure they would have been only too trigger-happy to take up. As much as Chris Mannion's tea dances do nothing for me, I don't think he (or the pier) deserves that...
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Mrs Rock has long bemoaned the length of time it takes me to get home from work of an evening. Although compared to those who fight with Connex South Central, Thameslink et al, my journey home is a stroll in the park - or more accurately a stroll through the park, part of the way at least - the 30-35 minute walk time is more than She Who Must Be Obeyed is now prepared to put up with.

As a result, I now find myself with a new bicycle. It's a 24-speed Marin city bike which is a far cry from the 5-gear Raleigh racing bike I last rode, some 20 years ago. 24 gears - what's all that about? Apart from the fact that you can't use all 24 gears because of the alignment of the front and back cogs (or cassettes, as I believe they're called these days), I never found a need to use more than three of the gears I had as a teenager, and I don't see that it's a need that has changed. That said, this bike cost a darn sight more than any other bike I've ever known, so I think I might use a few more just to get my money's worth.

This reduces my journey time to ten minutes, however by the time I've removed and secured the removable bits from the bike, unravelled and engaged the "high-tensile steel" chain, removed the helmet that looks like a cast-off from a dodgy eighties sci-fi movie, made my way to the changing room and changed into office clothes, the journey gives little change from 20 minutes. Still, at least I arrive at my desk healthier - if a little less fragrant.
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Sunday, May 04, 2003


Of course, the other thing May is celebrated for is Bank Holiday weekends, and the torrential rain that comes with them... ...hang on a minute, the sun is shining and the sky is blue. Quick, get the barbecue out!!

And that's exactly what we did at Castle Rock yesterday. With friends down from Oxford for the weekend, and a bunch of hyperactive kids to deal with as a result, for once Murphy's Law of Weather did not apply - Murphy's Law of Murphy's Law, I guess - and the weather was not only good enough to cook outside, but to sit outside in shirtsleeves and eat. Marvellous!!

Of course, whilst the barbecue warms up to temperatures fit to put the Sun to shame, one has plenty of time to ponder life, the universe, and why we choose to try and light already-burned wood. To think, someone deliberately sets light to some decent enough combustibles for the sole purpose that we should later try and set light to it all over again. In the mists of time, someone somewhere is having a laugh at my expense, I reckon.

Still, whilst the cobwebs on the barbecue were going up in smoke - no point wasting time cleaning them off, and besides, they add a certain nuttiness to the flavour - I was left to ponder why it is that there are so many households where the man is king of the barbecue, despite the fact that he wouldn't so much as lift a finger in the kitchen. Except for the washing up. Perhaps. Under protest.

And despite the fact that everything, as always, had a subtle shade of black on the outside, there have been no reported incidents of food poisoning from a Castle Rock barbecue. To date, at least. Either friends and family of the good doctor are strong of constitution, or too polite to complain...
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Thursday, May 01, 2003


Hooray! hooray!
The first of May
Outdoor sex begins today.

Just don't tell the wife... :-)
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