diamond geezer

Thursday, July 24, 2003

We asked 76 people when their bedtime was. Our survey said...

When's your bedtime?

9pm (4)

5.26%

10pm (10)

13.16%

11pm (18)

23.68%

midnight (17)

22.37%

1am (15)

19.74%

2am (12)

15.79%

Total number of votes: 76

9pm (5%) Nobody goes to bed at 9pm. Actually that's not true because apparently at least four of you say you do. I can only assume that one of you does shift work and another of you is under the age of 10. However, I note that the other two of you both voted at half past eleven last night, so I suspect you were lying about your bedtime (or else you live in a different timezone to here). So let's move on.

10pm (13%) One in six of my readers is in bed by 10pm. There would seem to be six possible reasons for this.
1) Your day is so physically or mentally exhausting that by mid-evening you need to go straight to bed because you're knackered.
2) You need eight hours sleep, at least, and can't be doing with anything less.
3) You no longer have any time for personal space once you've got home from work, cooked a meal and put the children to bed.
4) Big Brother is rubbish, so you never bother to stay up to watch it.
5) You live in an Iron Age hut and go to bed when the sun goes down.
6) You're not going to bed to sleep, you're going to bed to have carnal relations with your partner.

11pm (24%) The most popular bedtime, according to my survey. You've watched the ten o'clock news, you've despaired at tomorrow's weather forecast, you've flicked over to Graham Norton but his guests are all American non-entities, you've checked out Newsnight but it's a bit highbrow, you've waddled to the kitchen to make a nice milky drink, you've settled down to read six pages of a good book, and it's lights out at eleven. Very nice. I could never go to bed that early though, not unless I was ill.

midnight (22%) The average bedtime, according to my survey. (For any statisticians out there, the mean bedtime is actually 11:51pm) There's something quite satisfying about staying up until tomorrow, and it seems that most of us like to stay up until at least the witching hour before retiring for the night. Just in time for Big Ben and the Radio 4 news headlines, even if some of you can't quite manage to stay awake for the shipping forecast. Wonderfully soporific, that.

1am (20%) Some of us, and I include myself in this category, stay up until 1am most mornings. That extra hour after midnight makes a big difference to how much I can get done in a day. That's seven extra hours awake in a week, over a day extra every month and a fortnight extra every year. In fact by staying awake until 1am every morning until I'm 80 I'd be increasing my conscious life expectancy by about two years. That's assuming I don't waste it all by sleeping in late every morning, or otherwise end up so tired in the morning that I accidentally walk in front of a bus tomorrow.

2am (16%) One in six of you is still awake at 2am. Maybe you like the peace and solitude of the early hours of the morning so that you can get on with various important tasks uninterrupted. Maybe you're on shift work, or at least your body still thinks it is. Maybe you suffer from insomnia and barely sleep a wink every night. Maybe you're contributing to a late-night talk-radio phone-in. Maybe you don't need to be up until 10am so you might as well stay up late too. Or maybe you're the selfish idiot in the flat nextdoor who plays loud dance music until 3am in which case it'd be appreciated if you went to bed at 9pm instead please. But, however long you manage to sleep, do have a good night and sweet dreams.

posted 01:00 :

Wednesday, July 23, 2003

Jumping to conclusions

Blame - there's a lot of it about at the moment. Not least in the cinema where Hollywood's latest blockbuster is Hulk, the comic-book story of a vengeful superhero who gets angry, goes green in the face and throws the most enormous temper tantrums. I've not been to the cinema to see it, mainly because the reviews of the film have told me that it's rubbish. Two hours of tedious over-wrought drivel, and a crushing disappointment. Or so they say. There again, who am I to make sweeping generalisations about the movie based merely on hearsay and gossip? And how dare I publish a withering critique of the film on my website when I've not even been to see it myself to form my own opinions? I'm no better than the Hulk himself if I get inappropriately judgmental, lash out and force my misguided rage on others.

I try very hard in my everyday life not to jump to conclusions about other people or events based on insufficient evidence. If I don't know what I'm talking about, I shut up, listen and try to learn more. I may chip in with an opinion, but I try not to broadcast that opinion as definite fact if deep down I'm not sure of what I was saying. Neither would I dare to accuse someone else of any terrible misjudgement without being absolutely certain that that's what they meant to say in the first place. I don't think I'm unique in this either. There are lots of level-headed even-handed people in this world, willing to hear both sides of an argument and then make a rational decision based on the evidence provided. Unfortunately there are also lots of people (and organisations and publishers) out there for whom blind over-simplification and damning spot-judgement is second nature.

The story of weapons expert Dr David Kelly has been all over the media in the last week. The tragedy of one man's suicide has been lost in a sea of escalating arguments about who exactly should be to blame. Neither side thinks it should be them, but the original point of the whole affair has somehow become secondary to other parties pointing a finger and wagging it sternly. It's not about Weapons of Mass Destruction any more, it's only about who might have said what and why they shouldn't have done, so there. The Government and the BBC blame each other. The Daily Mail blames Tony Blair, because it suits their political agenda. The Sun blames the BBC, because it suits Rupert Murdoch's digital agenda. A hugely complicated story has been simplified in the press, poisoned and spoonfed to people who have no hope of understanding it, merely to score points. There's only one person who knew for certain why the doctor took his own life, and he's no longer with us. Everything else that's been said on the subject has been mere speculation.

The Sun newspaper seems to exist only to jump to conclusions. Bombing Iraq is good. The Prime Minister is infallible. The Government is otherwise bad. Breasts are good. The irrelevant is important. Big Brother is boring because nobody is shagging (although nobody's been shagging for the last four years of Big Brother and they've still filled acres of newsprint discussing it). I should assure you that I only ever check out the Sun's website to ensure that I'm fully informed on how awful the paper's core values are. But I can therefore say with some degree of confidence that very few things annoy me more than the Sun's gross over-simplification of the complex, because I think that everyone deserves to make up their own mind rather than having it cynically made up for them.

So, there you are, jumping to conclusions is always wrong. And anyone who tells you otherwise is a jerk.

posted 07:00 :

More than 50 bedtime votes already, thanks.
And you've still got until bedtime tonight to vote if you haven't already.

posted 00:00 :

Tuesday, July 22, 2003

A question for you...

When´s your bedtime? (normally)
(pick the nearest time)
9pm 10pm 11pm midnight 1am 2am

View current results
Just interested.
You've got until tomorrow bedtime to vote, and results on Thursday.

posted 01:00 :

Ten links they spotted
• Banksy - impressive online portfolio of the inspirational London graffiti artist (via drD)
• PawSense - the only way to stop a cat accidentally typing gibberish on your keyboard (via Ulterior)
• Lego Treasure Hunt - help Jim the Lego Pirate to find the hidden treasure below decks - brilliant (via b3ta)
• Buildings at Risk register - English Heritage list the sites under threat in your neck of the woods (via Casino Avenue)
• Tecwen (cough) Whittocks's homepage - I can't work out if this is a mickey-take or not (I fear not) (via besty's blog)
• Googlewhack - word pairs that return only one search engine hit (via Dave Gorman's new show)
• Jon Tickle's 'official' website - it had to happen, and it's not bad actually (via BBgossip)
• Firefly clock - looks great on your screen in a dark room (via Volume 22)
• Hipster Bingo - to be cool, complete a line of five (via SixDifferentWays)
• Art by Vic Reeves - now it's Painting Stars (via Vic & Bob)

posted 00:10 :

Monday, July 21, 2003

School's out

What wouldn't you give for six weeks off work? Back when you were a kid you got six weeks off work every summer (or even longer if your parents paid for you to have a 'better' education). Now, if you're employed, it's highly probable that your annual leave entitlement is even less than that single six week break. The days of endless half-terms and holidays are long gone. So, my apologies for reminding you that the annual school summer holidays start this week. Probably the last thing you want to be thinking about today if you're trapped in a stuffy office but sorry, I'm going to mention it anyway.

Many years ago, when you were about three-quarters of the height you are now, the school summer holidays were the promised land at the end of a very long year. You'd looked forward to them for months, you'd survived the last day of term where you brought games in so the teacher could have a day tidying the cupboards, and week-off 1 dawned full of promise. There was Why Don't You on the TV suggesting inane ways of filling the day (or, for those of us of a certain age, there was yet another repeat of Robinson Crusoe or White Horses). There was a museum to visit, or a park to hang out in, or just the chance for a bit of personal space. By week-off 2 that personal space was getting a bit excessive, you'd played Swingball once too often and ideas for things to do were running out. Never fear because week-off 3 was the annual family holiday, probably somewhere in the UK in those days, with a frugal B&B, crazy golf and sandcastles to look forward to. Weeks-off 4 and 5 were more difficult because everyone else had staggered their seaside breaks to occur once you were back at home, and by week-off 6 you'd be begging to go back to school just to have something to do and to meet your friends again.

The long summer break got even longer when you reached higher education, maybe even twice as long. You probably had a 'reading list' or something that was supposed to fill your time, but you just skimmed through the most important books on your last afternoon and spent the rest of the time slobbing. It's different nowadays of course, where those three months need to be spent trying to earn enough in wages doing some desperate summer job in order to reduce your millstone debts to vaguely-manageable levels. And then after graduation, unless you stayed on in education and became a teacher (and good luck to you if you did), those long summer holidays suddenly disappeared overnight.

So here you are today, part of the rat race, working through the summer with minimum leave entitlement and afraid of taking a proper holiday because they're always so astronomically priced during the school summer break. Even should you manage to slip out of the office and take the odd day off then you'll discover that the normally-quiet world outside has been invaded by children of all shapes and sizes, everywhere. Shops are packed with mini-people and their disinterested parents, cinemas are full of loud teenagers more interested in raucous social-climbing than watching the film, and streets are crowded with extended families of tourists who haven't a clue where they're going. To be honest, you're probably better off staying safely inside your office right through to the end of August and taking a break in September instead. It'll still be warm enough and it'll be a lot cheaper. Plus it'll be a lot quieter because all the children will be safely tucked up in school, dreaming of their next summer holidays ten months hence. Ah yes, I remember it well.

posted 07:00 :

Sunday, July 20, 2003

And then there were four

Cameron: Big Brother's global ambassador has undergone something of a personality transformation over the last two months. Mild-mannered fish-trader or manipulative busybody? You decide.
To vote for Cameron, dial 09011 21 44 09 or text VOTE SCOTT to 85444.
Ray: The short-fused firebrand, with a tendency to let it all out (notably once underneath a duvet). Has only ever been up for eviction once, and survived the public vote comfortably.
To vote for Ray, dial 09011 21 44 09 or text VOTE SCOTT to 85444.
Scott: Quiet, intelligent and without an enemy in the house. Has played a clever game, kept his nose down and survived right to the end. On course to be Big Brother's nicest but least charismatic winner.
To vote for Scott, dial 09011 21 44 09 or text VOTE SCOTT to 85444.
Steph: The only remaining girl, and the one that the tabloids have been paying least attention to. There's a bit of friction between her and Ray, but she uses the carpet sweeper like a dream.
To vote for Steph, dial 09011 21 44 09 or text VOTE SCOTT to 85444.
Jon: No, sorry, you can't vote for him. He'd win by a mile otherwise, wouldn't he?
(phone votes cost at least 25p; text votes cost at least 25p; bit of a moneyspinner for Channel 4 this, eh?)

posted 11:00 :

Saturday, July 19, 2003

200%

It's the two hundredth day of the year. On the one hundredth day of the year I took the opportunity to look back over 100 days of diamond geezer to see if I could pin down what sorts of things I'd been posting about. I thought I'd try the same thing again today to see how things have changed since then. Not because I want to get all self-analytical, you understand, but because the percentages are still easy.

98% of days have at least one post I only missed out on four days
92% of days have links to somewhere else and today is no exception
90% of days had more than fifty visitors and almost every day since January
89% of days have comments thanks for increasing numbers of those
85% of days include the word 'I' I still talk a lot about myself, don't I?
80% of days include a list of some sort I'm a listaholic
51% of days had over a hundred visitors most of them since April
49% of days have pictures these are more common since March
47% of days have two posts I like to offer value for money to the reader
44% of days mention London I actually live somewhere worth writing about
32% of days have a post at exactly 7am I'm getting obsessive about posting 'on the hour'
31% of days have exactly one post but it's usually meaty in size
27% of days have a post by half past midnight I like to get in there early
20% of days mention television both old and new, I'm not proud
20% of days have three or more posts you lucky, lucky people
18% of days have more than ten comments most of them actually relevant
16% of days discuss other blogs always good to talk about ourselves, eh?
15% of days have puzzles so, what percentage don't?
15% of days mention music and only a few about the Buffseeds
12% of days mention the Underground and gradually increasing I'm afraid
7% of days are illustrated by photos expect a lot more of them next month
7% of days mention football well, it is the close season at the moment
7% of days feature Big Brother bet you thought it was more than that
5% of days mention films it's still not a golden Hollywood year
4% of days have more than twenty comments maximum so far is thirty-five
3% of days had over two hundred visitors I'm getting there slowly
3% of days were posted from abroad hurrah for internet cafés
2½% of days have no posts at all I do occasionally get away and have a life
½% of days mention giraffes that would be today then

posted 21:00 :

Giraffes: Coming home from town late yesterday evening on the bus, I was more than surprised to see six giant illuminated red giraffes standing on a bridge over the Mile End Road. I perhaps shouldn't have been quite so amazed. This was after all the legendary Green Bridge that carries Mile End Park over the busy A11, complete with grass and trees. And we are currently in the middle of the Greenwich and Docklands Festival, an annual outdoor performance-arts-fest with an international flavour.

So I got off my bus and followed the giant giraffes on their night-time puppet procession through the park, complete with music, pyrotechnics and a supporting ensemble of French redcoats. Huge crowds of gobsmacked locals followed the performers as they processed to the dramatic finale at the top the park near the Palm Tree pub. The fishnetted heroine reached an operatic climax while a mad red-wigged ringmaster climbed a lamppost and the redcoats fed the grazing giraffes from bowls of dry ice. It was surreal - half-inspired and half-insane. They frittered away my council tax on this international arty nonsense, you realise? And I'm delighted that they did.

posted 12:30 :

Friday, July 18, 2003

After the sun, the rain

The heatwave has broken, the temperature has dropped, the sun has clouded over and the pavements are wet. That'll be another British summer over, then. Hide the shades, stick the shorts back in the wardrobe, leave the barbecue to rust down at the end of the garden, wait for the thunderstorm and make sure you've shut all your windows. So much for that legendary meteorologist St Swithin, whose scalding feast day on Tuesday has since been followed by almost constant rainfall. Let's hope we don't face forty days of downpour.

The rainy season brings that sharp-spiked instrument of the devil out onto the streets - the umbrella. At the first sign of drizzle some Britons appear unable to progress even a few yards along a pavement without wielding this offensive weapon in public. Suddenly the world has a canvas covering, which is particularly frightening for those of us who are just a little taller than average because all those metal spikes are positioned at approximately eye level. Golf umbrellas are the worst, like a huge bladed weapon. Why anyone needs something that wide to protect them from a little bit of moisture is beyond me, unless it's just a way of marking out one's personal territory. A pavement packed with golf umbrellas accommodates only half as many people as it could when dry, so the progress of other pedestrians is impeded and you end up out in the rain for twice as long, twice as pissed on and twice as pissed off.

I wonder what gene it is that makes some people whip up a brolly at the first sign of impending light drizzle? It must be that the world is full of ladies with perms and men with recently-dry-cleaned suits determined not to get even slightly damp at any cost. They'll stop dead on the street to wrestle with their opening mechanisms, standing exactly where you're trying to stand, selfishly blocking your way and wielding their brolly like an offensive weapon. At the first sign of rain other people who've been caught outdoors unprepared will rush into the nearest shop to buy a new umbrella, despite the fact they have ten more at home from the last ten times they got caught out like this. No wonder lost property offices are full of discarded, forgotten and unloved brollies. Maybe it's time for local authorities to start up umbrella recycling schemes to return these instruments of torture to point of sale or, preferably, to bury them deep in landfill sites instead.

Even more worrying is the length of time it takes some people to notice at the end of a downpour that it's stopped raining. The last drop fell minutes ago, the sun's now out and the rest of the world is back to normal, but these people are still bustling along the pavement in their own sheltered world, oblivious to improved atmospheric conditions. All you can hope is that they might stumble too close to the edge of a rain-soaked gutter and be completely drenched by a passing car. Their precious umbrella can't protect them from that low-level watery fate, but at least in the ensuing commotion they might finally notice that it's safe to take it down. Although they're probably thinking that maybe it'll rain again soon, so perhaps it's better to leave it up just in case? Sigh.

I think I preferred being hot, lethargic and sweaty. Can we have the sun back please?

posted 07:15 :

If you were having trouble reading the mouseover text on the Feng Shui post below, hopefully I've now fixed the HTML code so that the text pops up on all browsers. Hopefully. Thanks David. Or, of course, you may still find that it's a dodgy method based on incorrect assumptions that promises much but still doesn't really deliver - rather similar to Feng Shui in fact.

posted 07:10 :

Thursday, July 17, 2003

5500°C Average temperature on the surface of the Sun
450°C Average temperature on the hottest planet in the solar system - Venus
170°C Recommended oven temperature for baking a Battenburg cake
105°C Maximum surface temperature on the Moon
100°C Boiling point of water
57.7°C World's highest recorded temperature (Al'Aziziyah, Libya; 13 September 1922)
37.1°C UK's highest recorded temperature (Cheltenham, Gloucestershire; 3 August 1990)
37.0°C Normal body temperature
33.5°C Highest temperature in the UK so far this year (Wisley, Surrey; 15 July 2003)
26.5°C Lowest sea surface temperature at which hurricanes can form
15.5°C Average UK temperature for June 2003, 1.9°C above the June average
9.2°C Average temperature in Central England, based on extraordinarily detailed monthly records going back to 1659
0°C Freezing point of water
-27.2°C UK's joint lowest recorded temperatures (Braemar, Grampian; 10 January 1982 & 11 February 1895) (Altnaharra, Highland; 30 December 1995)
-78.5°C Temperature at which dry ice (carbon dioxide) sublimates from a solid to a gas
-89.2°C World's lowest recorded temperature (Vostok, Antarctica; 21 July 1983)
-155°C Minimum surface temperature on the Moon
-240°C Average temperature on the coldest planet in the solar system - Pluto
-273.15°C Absolute zero - the lowest possible temperature, anywhere, ever

posted 07:00 :

Wednesday, July 16, 2003

Feng Shui for Bloggers
(with mouseover text)

posted 07:00 :

Tuesday, July 15, 2003

Light at the end of the tunnel

At long last, after years of stalled planning below the streets of London, things are on the move Underground. Two long-long-awaited new projects have finally been given the go-ahead in the last week, after many years of nobody quite deciding to do anything about either of them. Both Crossrail and the East London Line extension should make a real difference to transport in the capital, eventually at least. And, as of midnight this morning, the tube network is now under the control of Ken Livingstone and his new management team. There'll be no visible changes overnight, but there's now the real promise of changes to come. Transport for London have just issued a new 27-page document outlining their plans for all 12 Underground lines, and dates for the upgrade of all 275 Underground stations. I'm delighted to see that my local station is due to be one of the first to be improved, but even that's two years off and might turn out to be nothing more than a new coat of paint. Fingers crossed.

Crossrail: There have been plans for a fast East-West rail link across London since 1989, but prohibitive tunnelling costs have always kept those plans on the drawing board, until yesterday. A fast-track service between Paddington and Liverpool Street is promised, extending outwards to link suburban routes to the west and east of the capital. Canary Wharf to Heathrow on one train is a definite winner, even if Romford to Richmond or Dartford to Aylesbury are rather more unlikely journeys. You can see the proposed routes here, here or maybe here. There's a much more detailed map of the central section here, which suggests that Crossrail will go nearly past my house just before it enters its new tunnel under London. But it's not all good news. The nearest station to me will be at least a mile away for a start, plus Crossrail may not even be finished by 2012 in time for a potential East London Olympics. And the rebuilding of Tottenham Court Road station will mean the closure of London's Astoria nightclub, home to... OK, so it's not all bad either then.

East London Line Extension: The East London Line is the runt of the Underground system, a mere 5 miles, 9 stations and 7½ minutes long. It links Shoreditch to Southwark through the historic Thames Tunnel, completed in 1843 and the first tunnel ever to be built under a navigable river. This engineering miracle marked the the beginning of Isambard Kingdom Brunel's construction career and is now to be the centrepiece of London's first 21st century tube line. To the south the line will continue to Clapham and Croydon, down into a swathe of London previously untouched by the Underground. To the north the line crosses old disused viaducts through Hackney to Highbury, bringing trains to trendy Hoxton for the first time since Broad Street station closed back in 1986. Extension plans here have been delayed because of objections to bulldozing the new line through the Bishopsgate Goodsyard, another example of early Victorian railway history, objections overturned only last week. The extended line may just be in operation by 200678, but the two stations at Wapping and Rotherhithe could then be forced to close because they'd cost too much to upgrade ready for the proposed increase in traffic. London's first semi-orbital tube line should finally become a reality by the end of the decade but, if you live beside the river, don't hold your breath.

posted 00:01 :

Monday, July 14, 2003

Summer sport...

...is rubbish, isn't it? Not that winter sport is always a thrill a minute, but summer sport is so much worse. Come summer, the sports supplement in the newspaper generally goes straight in the bin, unread, even unflicked. There's a blatant gap in the sporting year while the football season's closed down, stuffed half-full with dull sports that few people below upper-middle-class even care about. This gap is important in even-numbered years in order to accommodate the spectacle of the World Cup or the Summer Olympics, perhaps even the Commonwealth Games or the European Football championships. However, in odd-numbered years such as this one, the summer sporting drought is no mirage.

I've already slagged off cricket (here) so I won't do that again (tempting though it is, useless bloody sport). Then there's tennis, although that's merely a brief distraction while Tim Henman gets to displace EastEnders in the TV schedules for a week and a bit. There's athletics, but that's a mere 9.78 seconds of excitement stretched out to extreme lengths. There's golf, but I couldn't possibly beat Mark Twain's description of that as "a good walk spoiled". There's cycling, but most people prefer to tour France more sedately and wearing more flattering clothing. There's the odd Grand Prix, but they're just a lot of very fast cars in a long queue failing to overtake one another. There's rugby league, but it's unnatural to play rugby in the summer without mud to smear your tackle. And there's the football transfer season, whose bottomless expense is no doubt the reason so many clubs launch their new overpriced replica kits every July. Roll on the autumn... but maybe not just yet, OK?

posted 21:30 :

Trois links français pour le jour de la Bastille
• Tricolore - c'est un jeu bleu, blanc et rouge
• Le Calendrier Républicain - il était très compliqué et n'a pas duré
• Le Français Cool - un guide essentiel de l'argot des jeunes français
(free translations available here)

posted 07:00 :

Sunday, July 13, 2003

Linking in

If you blog you'll know which other websites you link to, but you may not know which other websites link to you. Which is of course far more interesting. Here are six ways to find out.

• Technorati - This is a great site which keeps track of two-thirds-of-a-million blogs (yes, there really are that many) and then works out who's linking to who. You merely type in a web address and it tells you which bloggers are linking to it. Easy. So, for example, here are the 63 blogs it reckons link to me here at diamond geezer. Fascinating stuff, and a regular treat.
(I'd never have spotted this astute post without it - 50 observations on English life by an American who's just moved over here)

• Daypop - Much like Technorati, but they only search 30,000 blogs so they find a lot fewer links. Just 17 for me at the moment, but different to the list above. One of Daypop's other fine services is to suggest blogs which are similar to your own, based on content. In my case I'm pleased to see that list includes Troubled Diva and Swish Cottage (presumably pre-battery).

• Blogstreet - Thanks to Scott for this one. Blogstreet checks out nearly 150,000 sites and provides a ranked list of blogs linking to you. The ranking is interesting but potentially obsessive (what do you mean, I'm only 2392nd?!). There are lots of other options including a clever visual map to show how your links link which is pretty but, as Scott says, pretty useless.

• Google - You type "link:" in the search box, then you stick your blog's web address on the end, then you press return. Simple. Works with any other web address too. At the last count 152 pages out there link to mine, even though there are tons of repeats on the list. Maybe Google search results really are all blogged up.

• Downhill - You'll remember that a few months ago I wrote a piece about six degrees of separation for blogs. How many links does it take to get from your blog to another, or from another blog back to yours? Here's an astonishing site that can tell you exactly that. For example, Star Trek's Wesley Crusher links to me in 3, from his excellent Wil Wheaton page via Movable Type and then Samizdata here to diamond geezer. Go play, but beware, it is dangerously addictive.

• Trackback - This is a way of telling someone else you've blogged about something they've written. It's a bit complicated. This explains it quite well. This explains it in rather more detail. I can't trackback on this blog. So I'd better stop there.

posted 10:10 :

Saturday, July 12, 2003

Something for the weekend?

It's a fantastic sunny summer weekend here in London, the sort of weekend that come November it'll be all too easy to forget could ever have existed. And there are so many things to do in London this weekend, as ever...

Musical things: The Human League were playing in Hackney last night. Missed them. Shania Twain is performing in Hyde Park today. Definitely missing her. (If there were any justice in the world surely those two artists would be the other way round?). Goldfrapp are playing in the courtyard of Somerset House tomorrow which sounds rather more appropriate, but they're sold out. (Shania sold out years ago, of course).
Theatrical things: Tonight's the last chance to see the revival of Abigail's Party at the Whitehall Theatre. Damn, too late. I'm still determined to see Jerry Springer the Opera at the National Theatre before it transfers to the West End, but not without someone to go with.
Arty things: There's the impressive Art Deco exhibition at the V&A, except that it'll be packed on a Saturday and everyone else seems to have gone already. Then there's the Bridget Riley retrospective at the Tate Britain, except that I'm waiting until I can take my Dad to that.
Big screen things: London has more cinemas than anywhere else in the country, except that all the new films out this week are worse than awful, so having a large number of cinemas doesn't actually help.
Event things: Canary Wharf is hosting an international programme of outdoor dance this afternoon, but that may be just a bit too arty for my tastes, even the choreographed skateboarders. BW really rated the Hampton Court Flower Show, but I only have two geraniums in need of inspiration at the moment.
Outdoor things: London has more than its fair share of open spaces, all no doubt filled this weekend by lazing tanning bodies, which really isn't me. All the tables outside pubs will already have been hijacked by extended familes nibbling and picknicking, which is just unpleasant. The river looks always fantastic in this weather, even the really ugly bits, but I've walked most of that before. London's just dripping with fascinating places to walk, to visit and to be, but they're all dripping hot at the moment.

So, what have I actually planned to do this weekend? Well, none of the above, alas. And no alternatives yet either. Any other suggestions?

posted 14:30 :

Big Brother's most desperate gimmicks
1) Day 50: Voting Jon Tickle back into the house for the last two weeks. And I think it might just work...
2) Day 37: Hiding "Moaner" Lisa in the reward room as a surprise new whining housemate.
3) Day 32: The African housemate exchange, flying Cameron to Africa and the rather-livelier Gaetano to Elstree.
4) Day 29: The ill-advised double eviction, removing both Federico and public favourite Jon overnight.
5) Day 45: Sticking a free pub in the reward room, open twelve hours a day for five days. Hic.
6) Day 25: Subtly increasing the number of housemates up for eviction from two to three to boost revenue from voting.
7) Day 1: Sticking Anouska in the house to keep Sun readers happy, only for the public to boot her out at the first opportunity.
8) Day 44: The bomb-scare evacuation. It was all genuine and not a set-up to increase the ratings, honest.
9) Day 10: Getting everyone to dress up in cub scout uniform and go camping in the garden.
10) Day 46: Playing music into the house as an alarm call to try to make the housemates a bit more animated. Fat chance.

posted 00:10 :

Friday, July 11, 2003

6,297,188,574

posted 23:57 :

Today is World Population Day, a day set aside by the United Nations to remember that there are rather a lot of us on the planet. More than 6 billion of us, no less. You can watch us increase here, or here, or here, or here. You can stop us increasing with one of these.

World Population facts
• Since the beginning of humanity, an estimated 75 billion people have been born and died, and 6 billion born and still alive, a total of 81 billion.
• At the current pace, humanity is adding about 78 million more people every year (about the population of Germany), over 200,000 more every day (about the population of Southampton) and about three more every second.
• Humanity reached its first billion in 1804 (gap of 123 years) its second billion in 1927 (gap of 33 years) its third billion in 1960 (gap of 14 years) its fourth billion in 1974 (gap of 13 years) its fifth billion on 11 July 1987 (gap of 12 years) and its sixth billion on 12 October 1999.
• 1 in 5 people on Earth lives in China and 1 in 6 lives in India, each with a population of over 1 billion.
• The 20 most populous countries in the world are China, India, USA, Indonesia, Brazil, Russia, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Japan, Nigeria, Mexico, Germany, Philippines. Vietnam, Egypt, Turkey, Iran, Ethiopia, Thailand and the UK.
• 1 in 900 of the world's population lives in London. Back in 1930, it was 1 in 250.
• More than 1 billion people on Earth are between 15 and 24. Another 1.8 billion are under 15. More than 95 percent of them live in developing countries.
• An estimated 114 million acts of sexual intercourse take place in the world every day. Some 910,000 lead to conception and in 356,000 cases a sexually transmitted disease is passed on.
• Only 17 per cent of sexually active young people use contraceptives, which would be why the UN has chosen this year's World Population Day to focus on the theme of adolescent rights, health and development.
• All in all, you're pretty insignificant, aren't you?

posted 07:07 :

6,296,972,863

posted 00:07 :

Thursday, July 10, 2003

Tubeway Army (no 1 - May 1979)

Thanks for all your help with yesterday's challenge. I'm therefore pleased to present our list of the top ten UK hit single artists to contain the name of a London Underground station. Only one entry per station, and the highest-charting song gets the place (which may be why your suggestion isn't here, sorry).

1) John Leyton - Johnny Remember Me (no 1 - Aug 1961)
2) All Saints - Never Ever (no 1 - Nov 1997)
3) Detroit Spinners - Working My Way Back To You (no 1 - Apr 1980)
4) True Steppers & Dane Bowers featuring Victoria Beckham - Out Of Your Mind (no 2 - Aug 2000)
5) Grange Hill Cast - Just Say No (no 5 - Apr 1986)
6) Hi-Gate - Pitchin' (In Every Direction) (no 6 - Jan 2000)
7) Jon & Vangelis - I Hear You Now (no 8 - Jan 1980)
8) Arsenal FC - Hot Stuff (no 9 - May 1998)
9) Radha Krishna Temple - Hare Krishna Mantra (no 12 - Sep 1969)
10) West Ham United Cup Squad - I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles (no 31 - May 1975)

Honorary mentions:
Northern Line - Love On The Northern Line (no 15 - Mar 2000)
Central Line - Nature Boy (no 21 - Jan 1983)

Meanwhile, here's our updated version of the top ten tube single titles. Much happier with this:

1) There Must Be An Angel (Playing With My Heart) - Eurythmics (no 1 - July 1985)
2) Waterloo - Abba (no 1 - April 1974)
3) Baker Street - Undercover (no 2 - August 1992)
4) Temple of Love - Sisters of Mercy (no 3 - May 1992)
5) The Only Living Boy In New Cross - Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine (no 7 - April 1992)
6) Finchley Central - New Vaudeville Band (no 11 - May 1967)
7) Bankrobber - The Clash (number 12 - August 1980)
8) Camden Town - Suggs (no 15 - October 1995)
9) Good Old Arsenal - Arsenal FC First Team Squad (no 16 - May 1971)
10) White Man (In Hammersmith Palais) - The Clash (no 32 - June 1978)

Unless of course you know better...

posted 07:00 :

Wednesday, July 09, 2003

Sound of the Underground (no 1 - December 2002)

London's Metro newspaper (if you don't live here, this tells you all you need to know) has published a list of the top ten UK hit singles to contain the name of a London Underground station. Only one entry per station, song titles only, and the highest-charting song gets the place. Here's their list.

1) Angel - Shaggy (no 1 - June 2001)
2) Waterloo - Abba (no 1 - April 1974)
3) Baker Street - Undercover (no 2 - August 1992)
4) The Only Living Boy In New Cross - Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine (no 7 - April 1992)
5) Finchley Central - New Vaudeville Band (no 11 - May 1967)
6) Camden Town - Suggs (no 15 - October 1995)
7) Good Old Arsenal - Arsenal FC First Team Squad (no 16 - May 1971)
8) Piccadilly Palare - Morrissey (no 18 - October 1990)
9) White Man (In Hammersmith Palais) - The Clash (no 32 - June 1978)
10) Victoria - The Kinks (no 33 - January 1970)

Now, I'm not 100% happy with this list. Not just because the number 1 is rubbish, but because I think the list is incorrect. Number 8 has got to go because the real station is called Piccadilly Circus, not just Piccadilly, and I'm sure they've missed a number of other stations out. With your help I'd like to try to update the list and publish a correct one. If you have any suggestions, please stick them in the comments box and I'll make the appropriate changes later. You might find this website invaluable.

Plus it would be good to try to compile another top 10 where the tube station is in the name of the artist, not the song. Any ideas? I'll kick that list off with Just Say No by the Grange Hill Cast (no 5 - April 1986). Over to you...

posted 07:10 :

Tuesday, July 08, 2003

Signs of the times
>

posted 07:00 :

Monday, July 07, 2003

I don't like Mondays

So, it's Monday morning again, and back to work. Wouldn't it be nicer if it was Sunday morning instead and you could stay in bed? In fact you're only going to work because today is Monday and not Sunday. And whose fault is that?

The seven-day week is one of the oldest surviving human inventions, with a history of continuous observation dating back at least 3000 years. Since time began there have been more than 150,000 Monday mornings (or whatever they used to be called back then), each precisely seven days after the last one. The Jewish, Christian and Islamic weeks all contain seven days, each with a different holy day, and religion has preserved these cycles through until the present day. There is no record of the seven-day week cycle ever having been broken.

It's not clear exactly which civilisation first invented the seven day week, but it may well have been those keen astrologers the Babylonians. There were seven major heavenly bodies visible to their naked eyes (Sun, Moon and five planets), so an astrological week grew up with each day guided by a planet. Today is named after the Moon (Monday, dies lunae, lundi, Montag), and has always followed the day named after the Sun (Sunday, dies solis, dimanche, Sonntag). It's also possible that the seven-day week was first established to follow the phases of the Moon. That's because it's approximately 28 days between consecutive full moons, so each 'moon-th' would divide up nicely into four lunar phases of seven days each. And then there's the book of Genesis which tells how God created the world in seven days, although it may be that the seven-day cycle was well-established before that particular book was written. Whatever the reason though, all weeks contain seven days and pretty much always have.

Any civilisation requires regular repeating cycles in order to be able to function properly. Thousands of years ago it was essential that market days recurred at regular agreed intervals so that all the traders knew when next to return with their livestock. A seven-day week fitted this function perfectly. The seven-day cycle also told people when to worship and when to work. And so it is today. You knew when you woke up yesterday that it was Sunday and that you could lie in and do whatever you do in bed on a Sunday morning. Likewise you knew when you woke up today that it was Monday and that you'd better get up sharpish because you were expected back at work this morning. A seven-day week establishes a manageable routine in all our lives.

So, whose fault is it that it's Monday morning again? Nobody knows for sure. But whoever first initiated the seven-day week is responsible for one of the most powerful inventions of all time, affecting absolutely everything that everyone on the planet has ever done. And if they'd invented it one day later you could have had this morning in bed...

posted 07:00 :

Sunday, July 06, 2003

Know your neighbours

It's been two years since the last national census, but they've only just got round to releasing detailed statistics for all the electoral wards in England and Wales. It's fascinating to be able to compare the area where you live with the rest of your local authority and with the rest of the country. As a resident of a Suffolk village at the time the census was carried out, it's also illuminating to be able to compare rural life up there to my new urban life down here in Bow.

• Where I live now, the average flat costs just over £200,000. Where I used to live in Suffolk, the average flat costs just under £50,000. That explains where all my money's going then.
• In three months time I shall be older than the average age for people in England and Wales. Bugger. Here in Tower Hamlets I'm older than the average by 7 years already, but if I'd stayed where I was in Suffolk I'd still have 6 years to go.
• In the ward where I used to live, which covered 12 square miles, there were only 50 non-white people. Now, in an area of 1 square mile, there are fifty times as many.
• 58% of us Bow residents survive with no car, whereas nationally it's only 27%, and in the public transport black hole where I used to live it's only 11%.
• Nationally 72% of people identify themselves as Christian (it's less than 40% in Tower Hamlets), while 15% of the population of England and Wales have no religion, not even Jedi.
• The most atypical ward in England and Wales is Holywell in central Oxford, which has the lowest average age (23), the fewest under 5s (½%), the fewest retired people (½%), the fewest home owners (8%), the highest qualified residents (98½%) and, aha, the most economically inactive students (86%). Yup, I remember it being like that when I lived there.

Of course, you don't care about where I live, because you don't live here. You'll want to type in your own postcode instead. Go on then.

posted 13:00 :

Saturday, July 05, 2003

The Polyphonic Spree / Mull Historical Society
Brixton Academy 04/07/03 - doors open 7pm

If the Archbishop of Canterbury wants to attract more young people to become involved in praise and worship, he would do well to learn a lesson from the performance of The Polyphonic Spree at the Brixton Academy last night.

Lesson 1: Overwhelm your audience with numbers
The Polyphonic Spree easily fill any performance space because there are 23 of them. This is particularly useful if two six-foot-plus audience members have decided to stand directly in front of you, because you can still see at least 17 of them. The group process on stage dressed in their trademark white robes and immediately grab 100% of your attention. The large numbers mean that everyone can play an instrument, be it keyboards, trombone, double-bowed double bass, theremin or whatever, or else grin broadly from the seven-strong choir. It's a big-band orchestral sound, and it's hard not to get sucked in. It's certainly not like your usual parish church on a Sunday, where the congregation probably numbers less than were on stage altogether last night.

Lesson 2: Be happy
The Polyphonic Spree perform some of the most uplifting music going. Everybody smiles all the time, especially Tim DeLaughter, the aptly-named leader of the whole ensemble. The lyrics are about being happy and how good life is, not in any way religious, but definitely spiritual. Every phrase is repeated over and over so it's easy to sing along, which is exactly what the audience do, joining in, waving their arms, jumping for joy and moving as one. A primary-coloured balloon drop has everyone regressing to childlike excitement. The audience are high on happiness, leaf and lager, but are acting as if they dropped something substantially heavier an hour earlier. It's certainly not like your usual parish church on a Sunday, where even the most evangelical congregation rarely exhibits bliss like this.

Lesson 3: Be hippy
The Polyphonic Spree look as if they've stepped out of a timewarp. All the men have 70s hair from the neck up, and everyone has nativity-service robes from the neck down. You can imagine them all assembling on a hilltop holding aloft cans of Coke and singing 'I'd like to teach the world to sing'. The music sounds as if Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band are performing with the cast of Jesus Christ Superstar (although without Andrew Lloyd Webber being allowed to write any of the music). It's uplifting symphonic praise, enticing us musically back into the Age of Aquarius. It's certainly not like your usual parish church on a Sunday, where stern Victorian hymns echo between the medieval silences.

Lesson 4: Be a cult
The Polyphonic Spree are a musical movement with thousands of devoted followers, even if only for ninety minutes at a time. You watch, you become absorbed, you belong. You hang on the every word of charismatic cult leader Tim, embracing happiness because he directs you to. Look around the auditorium and you spot previous converts who've arrived wearing their own white robes, accompanied by friends they've brought along to initiate into the congregation themselves. You leave the show as a missionary for the cause (or at least slightly more likely to buy the album, anyway). But it's certainly not like your usual parish church on a Sunday, where deeply-held beliefs still last a lifetime.

Lesson 5: Have a great supporting act
There were more people packed into the Brixton Academy last night than actually live on the Scottish island of Mull. One of those islanders is Colin MacIntyre, the fresh-faced singer songwriter of guitar-pop jewels the Mull Historical Society. He and his backing band were allowed 30 minutes to win us over. It only took three, and we were.

posted 13:00 :

4 more Big Brother 4 links
1) Kid Brother - live from a Suffolk field, it's Big Brother for goats. Honest.
2) Housemate caricatures - and rather good they are too.
3) Marcus Bentley - the voice of Big Brother... "You decide"
4) Elstree Studios - From Ice Cold in Alex to Gos, Craig and Alex.

posted 11:00 :

Friday, July 04, 2003

State of Independence

For the fourth of July, my 'Guess the name of the...' quiz moves to America. Can you name these 13 US states?
Answers in the comments box.

1) O^o * * * * * * * *
2) Bushier   * * * * * * *
3) Lots of teeth * * * * * * * *
4) Lots of laundry   * * * * * * *
5) The most important * * * * * * * *
6) Home of the Beetles   * * * * * * *
7) Click here for this clue * * * * * * * *
8) It's said a holiday provides this
9) The Princess of Wales' stomach
10) Granny might knit it for your birthday
11) She will be on the receiving end of my question
12) Writing implement/wind direction recorder/aural organ
13) Name of another state with its first two letters missing

posted 00:04 :

Thursday, July 03, 2003

Fingers crossed

I've recently had cause to reflect on my good health, fingers crossed. Over just the last two weeks a disturbingly high number of work colleagues and members of my family have ended up in medical establishments being told things they really didn't want to hear. Nothing life-threatening, you understand, but the sort of news that makes one think "Drat, that's something I've got to live with for the rest of my life. It won't be easy, it might even be unpleasant, and I really wish I didn't have to." It's been a nasty jolt, to them and to me.

I've been very fortunate in my life so far that the longest time I've ever spent in hospital was in getting born. I usually only go and see doctors to tell them that I've moved house and can I sign on please. I've never broken any limbs, my brain is still in full working order, and I've never yet had a doctor tell me that my life is about to change for the worse. To the best of my knowledge there's nothing major wrong with me at all, which is just as well because I can't swallow tablets and capsules to save my life (even though that's exactly what many other people have to do). OK, so I lost a toenail once and I'm a bit on the short-sighted side, but that's nothing really. To be blunt, I've been bloody lucky. Fingers crossed.

Good health is something the fortunate amongst us too often take for granted. We don't notice that our left arm isn't throbbing, that our back doesn't ache, that our left ear can hear someone talking, that our right ear can't hear a ringing that isn't there, that we've just walked onto the tube platform without the aid of a wheelchair and a lift, that we can breathe without any assistance, that there isn't a lump where there shouldn't be one, that we can see a beautiful sunrise, that our appendix is still 100% present and correct, that we do still remember who we are, that there isn't medication in the bathroom cabinet we need to take every day, that our heart just pumped successfully the last million times or so, that we just woke up again in our own room and not a hospital bed, or that our hands can still grip, write and type as required.

So today I'm giving thanks that, to the best of my knowledge, my body is still in full working order. If you can't say the same, then I'm thinking of you. And I've crossed my fingers because, thankfully, they don't yet cross themselves.

posted 07:00 :

Wednesday, July 02, 2003

The best of (the first half of) 2003

Top 5 albums (all pictures with 'mouseover')

1) Audio Bullys - Ego War (reviewed June 4)
2) Buffseeds - The Picture Show (reviewed March 31)
3) Pet Shop Boys - Disco 3 (reviewed Feb 2)
4) Erlend Øye - Unrest (reviewed Feb 28)
5) Blur - Think Tank

Top 5 singles

2=) Junior Senior - Move Your Feet (reviewed Feb 28)
2=) Electric Six - Danger! High Voltage (reviewed Jan 31)
2=) Tomcraft - Loneliness
2=) Lemon Jelly - Nice Weather For Ducks (reviewed Jan 31)
(There is not yet a best single of 2003. Fingers crossed for the second half)

Top 5 books

1) Andy Miller - Tilting At Windmills (reviewed April 6)
2) Phil Robinson - Charlie Big Potatoes (mentioned June 27)
3) London - The Photographic Atlas
4) Richard Doyle - Flood (reviewed January 7)
5) Andrew Collins - Where Did It All Go Right?

Top 2 magazines
1) Word (reviewed February 10)
2) Smoke (reviewed June 14)

So, tell me,
am I right or am I wrong?

posted 07:00 :

Tuesday, July 01, 2003

The Winter Olympics - a basic choice

Tomorrow afternoon the International Olympic Commitee meets to decide the venue of the 2010 Winter Olympics. There are three nominations. Usually nobody gives a damn who gets chosen to host the Winter Olympics because nobody ever watches them anyway. It's just two weeks of goggle-eyed lycra-clad so-called-athletes hurling themselves down steep icy slopes at unnatural speeds. Who cares? Well this time I do, because this time the vote matters. And, BASICally, here's why.
(and, for all you computer programming purists out there, yes I know it doesn't work, but you get the idea)

  10 REM Olympic City recent selections
  20 FOR YEAR=1984 TO 2008 STEP 4
  30    READ CONTINENT$
  40 NEXT YEAR
  50 DATA America, Asia, Europe, America, Australasia, Europe, Asia
  60 REM Olympic Committee votes tomorrow
  70 WINTER=2010
  80 ELECTION$="2nd July 2003"
  90    WINTEROPTION$(1)="Salzburg, Austria":CONTINENT$="Europe"
100    WINTEROPTION$(2)="Vancouver, Canada":CONTINENT$="America"
110    WINTEROPTION$(3)="Pyeong Chang, Korea":CONTINENT$="Asia"
120 REM Olympic Committee future votes
130 SUMMER=2012
140 ELECTION$="6th July 2005"
150    SUMMEROPTION$(Europe)="London","Paris","Madrid","Moscow","Leipzig","Istanbul"
160    SUMMEROPTION$(America)="New York","Toronto","Havana","Rio"
170      WINTERCONTINENT$(2010) not equal to SUMMERCONTINENT$(2012)
180      IF WINTERCONTINENT$(2010)="Europe" THEN SUMMERCONTINENT$(2012) PROBABLY="America"
190      IF WINTERCONTINENT$(2010)="America" THEN SUMMERCONTINENT$(2012) PROBABLY="Europe"
200      IF WINTERCONTINENT$(2010)="Asia" THEN ALLBETSOFF
210 REM Why tomorrow is important
220 NUMBEROFOLDMENONCOMMITTEE=126
230    VOTE REPEAT
240    UNTIL WINTER(2010)=DECIDED
250 IF OLYMPICCOMMITTEEVOTETOMORROW(2010)="Vancouver" THEN OLYMPICCOMMITTEEVOTELATER(2012) MAYBE="London"
260 IF OLYMPICCOMMITTEEVOTETOMORROW(2010)="Salzburg" THEN OLYMPICCOMMITTEEVOTELATER(2012) NOT="London"
2012 EASTLONDONREGENERATION$="Fingers crossed"
2013 END...or beginning?

posted 18:00 :

The 1am puzzle: Exactly when is it halfway through this year?

posted 01:00 :

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