Strawberry Yoghurt

Turning anger round

2012-01-31T10:08:00.002Z

... is the title of my next post. Jolly good - now all I have to do is write it.

Ros Asquith shortlisted for Dahl Prize

2011-11-05T21:16:00.001Z

This is quite cool! The von Neustadt family's dear friend Ros Asquith has been shortlisted for the Roald Dahl funny prize with her book Letters From An Alien Schoolboy. Please read all about it at the Guardian's rather nice article with sample pics an ting.I'm like yeah baby.

Glenn Bengry: nice man needs our help

2011-10-31T14:11:00.000Z

Hi there ... please have a look at this:

http://glennsfriends.chipin.com/glenn-bengry

If you have a couple of quid, bucks, yen, zloty etc to spare please send a few in that direction. Matters arising:

I promise you on my honour as a cavalry officer of the old school that it is real.
Glenn is far too nice and good a bloke to be in this bind.
Please help if you can.
Thanks!

Oopsie-Beebs-a-blog™ - absolutely rubbish writing

2011-10-28T09:52:00.004+01:00

Not funny. I've tried being polite and nice to Auntie about this and they can't even be bothered to respond, let alone fix their awful, amateurish writing. So I am just going to be rude about it, and hope that that annoys the fool who wrote it and the fool - perhaps the same fool? - who doesn't want to change it. That would at least give me some minor gratification.

Here we go.

There's a really lovely slideshow giving a timeline of the Shuttle here:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-14056002

- which features, in the first sentence of its first caption, this gem of moronic illiteracy and insensitivity:

"The space shuttle was conceived as a concept long before man had even stepped on to the Moon."

CONCEIVED as a CONCEPT?

CONCEIVED AS A CONCEPT?

I mean come on. What else does the person (= Year 10 Work Experience kid, presumably) who wrote this think happens to concepts? Did they actually manage the rather gifted trick of writing this without actually reading what they had written? Let's try some more excellent writing:

"The space shuttle was conceived as a banana"
"The space shuttle was bananaed as a concept"

Both of these are just as good, and as meaningful, as the sentence currently in use. Moreover, they are less ugly. I recommend the BBC use more bananas.

Sheesh. Rubbish writing, Beeb: 2/10 for effort and 0/10 for your lousy manners. I diskard you.

Oh for goodness' sake ( … or, a Literary Expert writes… )

2011-09-22T07:45:00.000+01:00

Now look. It's quite simple. I shall explain.

Novelists

Not all Scottish novelists are the same person, though two of them are. (Or perhaps a single body with two heads, like Zaphod Beeblebrox. Maybe one head is called Iain and the other Iain M. I am perhaps a little unclear on the details.)
Not all novelists called Ian or Iain are necessarily Scottish, though they may be.
Not all novelists with Scottish-sounding names are necessarily Scottish, though they may be.
Not all novelists who wrote quite odd first novels which I initially rather hated are necessarily in any of the above categories, though, again, it is not impossible that they are.
Mainstream novelists and science-fiction writers are two entirely separate species, in fact they couldn't even interbreed in the unlikely event that they tried. What? No, be quiet, Tamsin, I am teaching.

I'm hardly confused about any of this.

A History of the World in 9½ Weeks and 10½ Chapters (parrot optional)

This is really the graduate-level stuff now so concentrate hard and try to stay with me.

Right. The Wasp Factory and The Cement Garden are two different novels by, get this, two different novelists. Really.

My extensive experience in Thinking About Books And Stuff suggests that once you've got this one cracked, it's game over - you don't have to attend the rest of the course, and may print out your certificate at home.

Summary and conclusions

I trust that this is all now perfectly clear. I hope you have enjoyed having my literary expertise shared with you. Another time I shall explain sculpture to you, or perhaps opera. I have plenty more searing insights like those recorded above.

Bizarre-Connect-o-Fact-a-blog (Picard to Richard)

2011-07-12T14:15:00.001+01:00

(No. 793 in an Occasional Series of, er, 42,452)

(Deep breath) Now pay attention: I shall only say this once.

Captain Picard's nemesis Q was played by John de Lancie whose dad John de Lancie inspired Strauss to write his Oboe Concerto.

Got it? Good, good. :)

Robert

2011-06-30T19:59:00.000+01:00

This makes me very, very happy indeed. If you responded to this or this then that's what you did! Thanks a BIG lot. I am seriously chuffed to bits to see this update. Hats off to Robert and the Sassers and GSM and Know Think Act and Bringing Hope and Home Again and ... the whole thing! Just great. :)

Annoyed

2011-06-26T14:19:00.000+01:00

I am post-surgical, grumpy, and annoyed at a surprisingly wide range of things and people! (This does not, however, include my wife, family or colleagues. Just in case you were wondering.)

But I should, really, try to write something a bit more constructive than this ... tsk. And grrrr.

Phew!

2011-05-22T02:57:00.000+01:00

Delighted to find that despite age and weight I still have not entirely lost my touch (as it were) with gay waiters. :)

Hey ho tiddly pom blimey

2011-04-14T07:27:00.001+01:00

Yes ladies and gentlemen, and others, that is the sound of me riding up to the Borisbike station by Moorgate tube, only to find it gone.

Yes, gone. In fact not just gone but gorn. Absent. Removed. Away. Weg. Gorn. The place has been scraped clean, like the pavement's been shaved in one of those ludicrous ads where our new seven-blade system gives you the smoothest shave yet, because it stretches as it smoothes as it slices - or whateverthehell. Gorn. Or perhaps it's more as if the Black Helicopters and their sinister operatives came in overnight and whisked away the whole kit and caboodle, leaving only the row of suspiciously-neat patches where the bike docks and console thingy had stood.

Nooooooooooooooo, I went, somewhat filmistically I hope. But then a nice chap stopped and directed me to the next one, just round the corner. So it's fine. Put the kettle on please Colin. Thank you.

The sheer bliss of being normal

2011-04-13T20:22:00.004+01:00

I got home last night to find that Mrs von Neustadt has bought a lovely new long-arm stapler to enable her - and me, if I'm good - to staple music together for Stringwise and other fine musical type thingies. This is good. I like staplers.

To my horror the stapler, perhaps because it's a cheapo own-brand Ryman job rather than one with a proper maker's name on, does not appear to have printed or stamped on it the type of staples it needs. I thought this was absolutely standard practice, and to not do it seems … foolish … at best.

Naturally Mrs von Neustadt, before I'd got my hands on the new stapler, had thrown away the box, and compounded her sin by filling the device with staples that she thought seemed to fit OK. Seemed to fit OK? Seemed to fit OK?? Reader, do you not now begin to see the searing pain at the very heart of my existence? (No? Oh well, never mind, have a cuppa.)

In all honesty but through gritted teeth I'm forced to pause and admit that, by the purest fluke and not (of course) because 98.3% of all staples in the Cosmos are the same, Mrs von Neustadt did just happen to have filled it with the right staples. Absolute coincidence, mind, and clearly it does not in any way affect the purity of my argument. Ahem no indeed.

Anyway, I did what any red-blooded officer of my regiment (yes, thank you Tamsin, the ladies and gentlemen do, I suspect, know full well exactly which regiment we mean here) would have done, and retrieved the box from the recycling. I then tore off the little corner of cardboard which records the stapler's preferred diet and concealed it about my person before rerecycling its parent-box. Well I mean you would, wouldn't you? (No? Gosh. We should talk.)

Travelling to work this morning I was delighted to find the said insignificant-looking, but information-rich, fragment in my pocket.

Naturally I have now transcribed all of this crucial staple data into a small but strangely effective information system which lives on my portable wireless telephonic device, and which, entirely gorgeously, synchronizes silently and without fuss with its online webitty-web-access version - so if the information is here, it's also there, and, y'know, over there too. This I like, a lot.

So now I have this vital and very interesting data safely stashed away for all eternity or at least until a large systems failure of some kind. Empires may fall and rise, new elements emerge, Earth's orbital wobble may subtly change but I will always be able to tell you which staples you'll need.

I can't tell you how happy and fulfilled this little information handling and storage excursion has made me feel. I'm just glad I'm so normal. It's great.

Please don’t let the Year 10 Work Experience Kid write the press releases. Really.

2011-04-06T08:55:00.004+01:00

A couple of corkers from the press release for the Grand Opening (yay woo) of the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel London.

The infamous sweeping forecourt, unique to a London hotel in its size and presence, provides a fitting entrance for the new hotel that will also showcase restored gold-leaf ceilings, ornate wall murals and the spectacular grand staircase.

The famous staircase, widely revered as the most majestic in England with windows measuring over 50 feet and crowned by an elaborate vaulted ceiling, has been featured in many films and music videos most notably Batman and the Spice Girl’s video for their debut single ‘Wannabe’.

Come on, toughen up, girls! Get out a dictionary and a grammar primer and do some not-very intensive study on one or two very easy topics. Either that, or give the work to – or at least, please please please, have it checked by – someone who actually uses English carefully. Or, y’know – just read it through before you publish it. That would be good too.

It’s been done by a professional PR company and, whilst I don’t want to sound too much like my own grandmother, it’s just plain sloppy.

I have wroted to them with my boring, smallminded, anal-retentive curmudgeonly complaints because hey, that’s the kind of relaxed dude I am. I even sent them, in the spirit of being lovely and nice, a bijou linkette. (Sadly, I was too lazy and/or narked to even try to sort out their Scary Batman And Singular Spice problem. But ho hum.) Will I, do you think, get a lovely, nice and helpful reply and some lovely and nice chocolate bunnies to thank me for my trouble? Dear Reader, watch this space.

Oh dear

2011-04-04T08:23:00.003+01:00

I very nearly broke my rule on trying to avoid writing in this blog about my work. Well actually I did, then thought better of it. This replaces the previous attempt.

Hmmm.

Maybe I should write about puppies instead. Puppies are nice.

Yes.

The "Harry" construction and why it's funny (if you're me)

2011-03-28T10:39:00.004+01:00

Harry Introducers

This blogological entity or emuārs is about the "Harry … -ers" construction, which is most familiar to me in its original form of "Harry Sliders" for a collection of slides - or indeed, more likely - a slideshow.

I said some time ago that I'd try to explain my use of this construction and, being possessed of a brain with impressively sieve-like properties (though less useful for draining pasta), immediately forgot. A kind friend reminded me that I said I'd do this, and I am happy to oblige. I only hope that after all this you think it's worth it … the mountains hath travailed and brought forth a mouse, an ting.

Harry Disclaimers

Before I really get going, a quick disclaimer. I know perfectly well that not everything I find funny seems so hysterically sidesplitting to much of the rest of society. Or perhaps all of it. I have lost track of the number of occasions on which the appalled expressions of those around me (frequently my children, yes, now you mention it) have alerted me, far too late, to the fact that whereas I thought I was, like, really flying, I was actually more, ah, in fact, er, crashing and burning. The controls are locked, we're in a deep deep nose-up stall, the escape hatch is jammed and in any case my parachute's on fire. Yikes. Chiz sa Molesworth. We're going in. Mayday mayday mayday. Launch the buoy. (Oops sorry wrong film but you get the picture.) Launch the boy. (Different film altogether, please don't distract me.)

Anyway yes, thank you, I do understand that it's not really that funny. I just like using it, it being in effect a blast from, and a mild reverence to, the past … and I suppose I am mildly addicted to it. It makes me vaguely smile, in a vaguely vague sort of way … however if you're already too irritated by all this you'd probably better go and do something more productive - your pools coupon for example - but do feel free to pop in later when Mr Thompson will serve tea and cakes by the Great Yew Hedge, weather permitting. You will be most welcome.

Harry Definers

You can add "Harry" before and "-ers" after many words. I am not sure of the rules and I seem to have mislaid the user manual, but I think it works better if you're describing an activity rather than a simple object. Thus "Harry Sliders" - the Urtext as far as I'm concerned - seems to me to be more likely to mean presenting or watching a slideshow than merely some slides, though it will extend to both. Similarly if I said, say. Harry Skaters it's probably more likely that I meant the act of going skating rather than a pair of skates. (Or any other fish. [Sorry.]) As I say I'm not really conversant with the full set of operating procedures for this construction, but I think you can apply it to a very wide range of concepts.

Harry Snaggers

Stretching the point a little my Bruvver and his Dear Wife Bless Her have pointed out that you'd run into severe problems with Harry Christophers, director of utterly superduper singing persons The Sixteen. Applying the rules strictly would of course render this talented gentleman as "Harry Harry Christophersers". This is why the rules must be rewritten, or perhaps even written, to exclude such silliness. I diskard it.

Harry Contextualizers

I think that it's meant to sound terribly upper-class, British, public-school, prep school, nannies and governesses, twittish, and so on, in a somewhat old-fashioned way. (Please be aware: if you are not familiar with the British usage, then "public school" may very well not mean, when you hear it, what it meant when I said it. Do please feel free to look it up and marvel at the rich vein of misunderstanding that we've created. In short, a BrE "public school" is very far from being public.) I'll come back to this context, which we may perhaps label "Braying Upper-class Ninnies" or BUNs, later.

Harry Explainers

As some of you know, I went to a slightly strange but interesting semi-posh school in Bristol. It was certainly not a (BrE) public school (my dears, the shame) but it was quite respectably founded under a charter from Queen Elizabeth - no, not the present one - and was a bluecoat school, and so on. I could, nay should, write rather a lot more about this place and how I ended up there, but not, you may be relieved to hear, on this occasion. I am leaving it unnamed not because I'm ashamed of it, but just to thwart lazy Googlers; this isn't a piece about the school. If you want to look it up then combining the name of the old dear who gave it its charter with the fact that such places were often, incongruously to modern ears, described as hospitals, would get you there before you can say Carr, Hartnell, Ramsey or Bird.

At the said three-letter establishment I was taught by David Perkins, one of the most gifted teachers I've ever met. Dave is the reason I speak German. If he'd been a geography teacher I daresay I'd be good at or interested in geography right now; likewise physics or maths. But German was his thing and so it became, in a pale reflection of the master, one of my things too. Don't get me wrong - there were plenty of other very good teachers at that school, as well as a couple of geniuses (and, yes, the occasional dunderhead or two). It's just that JDP stood out head and shoulders (metaphorically if not in actual physical stature, aha) among the teaching staff for me. It's all a bit odd given his massive lifelong passion for the licensed barbarism called "rugby", an activity I put much effort into avoiding, but it somehow didn't matter that I was so much at odds with him over this other hugely important aspect of his life at, er, Koo Eh Hah. He was just an utterly fantastic German teacher.

With Dave there were quite a lot of running jokes, standard procedures and so on - little things that made his lessons a bit special and made you feel like you were part of a particular group, almost a gang, because you were a student of German. It was all part of his mystique, I guess, and hence part of his magic as a teacher.

Dave seemed to spend all or most of his holidays in German-speaking countries … I suppose memory may be making me exaggerate but that's how it looked to me back then. I know it sounds obvious but this is actually very inspiring to students - he's going out there and seeing and doing the stuff you talk about in lessons, and using, as a normal everyday activity, the language that might otherwise seem to you just to be an academic subject. So what, some of you are thinking, isn't that just what language teachers do? Well, maybe, but clearly not all of them. I was taught French for some years by a nice old chap, long since redeployed to that Great Classroom in the Sky, who I swear never once gave me the impression that there was anything to the language - a culture, or some people, perhaps - beyond the O-level exam. So it's fair enough to say that for me this aspect of JDP's involvement in German was terribly important and influential.

One happy outcome of this regular visiting of German-speaking countries was that Dave came back with many, many photographs of the places he'd seen. These were in the form of 35mm slides. (Note to young people: these are oh never mind.) We then had slide shows, usually in JDP's room, so that we could be shown the wonders of where he'd been. These made a deep impression on me and established Germany and its neighbours as places I wanted to visit for myself. (I can still remember very clearly the excitement of finally getting to see, for real, the originals of JDP's slides of Cologne Cathedral or the Goldenes Dachl or the Königsee - it felt like an absolute vindication, that, whatever it had taken to get there, it was all worth it.)

These fabulous slide shows were, of course, Harry Sliders and so, of course, the origin as far as I'm concerned of the phrase.

Harry Speculators

What this explains is where I got it (JDP) and why I like it (JDP) but doesn't really clarify anything else - why did he use it, where did he get it?

My guess is that it is or was a known usage rather than an invention of Dave's. I suppose that a bit of research might help me here, but I haven't done it - so sue me. Jabnaas. If you know anything about this usage that might help, please do drop me a line.

And why, pray, did Dave Perkins like this usage? Again, I can only speculate - I'm certainly not going to bother him with trivia like this! Dave was certainly not, himself, a Braying Upper-class Ninny (or BUN, do try to keep up). Interestingly, though I've characterized the school as semi-posh, quite a few of the staff really weren't posh, or weren't in many other ways quite what you'd expect. I'm thinking for example of David Lewis, a genius of an English teacher, who was clearly and openly sceptical about the whole posh-ed thing and indeed the claims of some of us to be not too posh, or not so posh, or at least not as posh as him over there … or something. (Ah, scholarship boys and their inverted snobbery … but that's another story.) Anyway, the excellent David, with his dangerously bolshie attitudes and tendency to lead us astray, eventually moved on and when last I heard was a priest in Liverpool: education's loss was undoubtedly his flock's massive gain.

But I digress. The point I'm trying to make is merely that, in contrast with what you might perhaps expect, some of the teaching staff had a healthy sort of cynicism about this semi-posh school and its semi-posh kids and were certainly not averse to a bit of gentle p*ss-taking at times.

So, to cut an overlong story - er well, perhaps not short per se but maybe a nanometre or two less long - I think that "Harry Sliders" was JDP gently mocking us and our (and his!) rather comfortable setup there. It was gently amusing and affectionate, and a small but not wholly insignificant part of the JDP German-teaching setup. For some reason it has stuck.

Harry Summarizers

And that's pretty much the whole thing. I know it's turned into really more of a piece about a brilliant German teacher than it is about a silly little jokey usage, but there you go: that's the Harry Backgrounders. I still use it, as you have seen, and at work I still say “Harry Sliders” when we are doing slide shows, and have even done so in group emails announcing them. This meets with looks of mild bafflement but, hey, I am used to that anyway …

Location:Stockport,United Kingdom

LCD information screens, or is it garbage?

2011-03-25T14:38:00.001Z

So here I boringly am having a boring wait for an outpatient clinic at the Whitt. Did I mention that it's boring? Ah yes, good, because it is.

Hurrah! The National Health service has provided a lovely big screen to provide information and stave off boredom. Ahem, yes indeed.

On the screen are lots of adverts. These cover a range of topics - some are straight NHS information, for example smoking and depression services, infection control in hospitals, welcome to this department, and so on. Others are just ads, but with I guess the intention that they're at least potentially relevant to people sitting here bored off their skulls (did I mention the boredom?) so there are dentists, hotels, estate agents and quite a few minicab firms.

The NHS stuff is mostly well-made and coherent. The commercial stuff is more variable - some of it's good, some is poorly designed and/or illiterate.

So far so good - it's mostly not a bad service, though I note that there really are are quite a lot of screens … if you were to watch it because you were looking for a particular piece of information, you might get to wait quite a long time for it to come round. I think this limits the usefulness if the service; indeed, if you can't use it easily to find out information then why is it there? Maybe it could just be pictures of flowers and bunnies instead, if its main function is really to be wallpaper? But them you couldn't charge businesses - other perhaps than flower suppliers and bunny breeders? - to put their ads up here. Hmmmm.

Here, though, is the real showstopper. Well it's two of them, really, but they are not unrelated.

There are two menu-like bands top and bottom of the screen. They are independent of the main screen content. The top one has, prominently, the time and date, and the lower one has a short scrolling message.

The message says:

"Welcome to the department. Watch this screen to see up to date waiting times."

This is an excellent idea - indeed if I were given the choice I'd prefer some information on waiting times to more minicab adverts. And you certainly see this message plenty, as it's the only item in its own little scrolling section so it repeats every 16s or so. Sadly it doesn't seem to have got past the "excellent idea" phase as the promised waiting times never actually appear. You can watch all their lovely ads as long as you like, but you don't see any waiting times. I could do with this as it's now 35 minutes after my appointment time and still not a squeak. So, without wishing to be horrible, I do feel that this part of the service is a complete failure, as it makes a promise on which it does not deliver.

The other problem is simple, amusing and really quite pathetic. Remember the top band with the date and time in? Well, the clock is half an hour slow. If it's now 1220 then the clock claims it's 1150. Like, connected, man. That says it all, really: once we've seen that we don't really need to know much more about how this service is used and valued, because it isn't. It is mostly a waste of space, a nice little earner wearing the stolen clothing of an information system. I diskard it.

Location:The Whittington Hospital

Brass Banding comes to Muswell Hill

2011-03-25T05:49:00.008Z

Yes, I know. The headline seems so improbable that it has to be some kind of spoof. What's the payoff, you're almost bound to ask. But please bear with me because I'm dead serious about this, and also very excited.

As an aside, I'm actually quite worried about even starting on this topic. It's a vast area for me and I'm not sure where this'll go: certainly it would, if I did it properly, require several other pieces of writing to try and make it all make something like sense. Given that I don't usually seem to have time to write this blog at all, I'm not sure quite where this leaves us, or rather where it leaves me. But ho, and hum, and ho hum, and we shall see.

(No, Colin, I shall not now be telling the ladies and gentlemen the "All In One Strand" joke, apposite though it may seem to you. And anyway, foolish boy, now you have made me give away the punch line and thus I could not tell it to this audience, even if I wished to, for the next five or so years.)

Where shall I start, then? A person of my acquaintance frequently complains, rather unkindly if not wholly inaccurately, that I use too many words - that is, more than they would like - when trying to explain things. (I note that they've never solicited my opinion of their powers of self-expression. A pity.) So let me see if I can use a few less, and, er, Cut To The Chase, or something. Yes indeed.

Well then. Some points.

The last time I played in a proper, real, formally-constituted brass band, we still lived in Yorkshire, and the United Kingdom did not yet have decimal coinage. (No, Tamsin, we shall not discuss the 50p piece right now. Jabnaas. Nidbaabeth. But yes, they were interesting times.) Never again since then. Plenty of brass ensembles and what have you, but never an actual real brass band per se.
I have at times in the past had an odd/bad attitude to brass bands and their players. Big area, won't fit in this bullet point … another time. I am in awe of their technical ability, but I also fear them, or have done so, and have at times disliked some of what they do. I have, I think/hope, grown out of this stupidity a bit over the last, say, 20 years.
It's also a horribly complex North/South culture thing for me. This too requires its own piece of at least 80,000 words but this, too, is getting shunted off into a siding for now. If you want more on this right away then I'd strongly recommend Stuart Maconie's Pies and Prejudice - if you were to read that you'd at least see a bit of where - wait for it wait for it - I'm coming from, aha.
The death of Maurice M made me think about brass bands and orchestral players more than somewhat. Compiling a monster tribute to the late great man for the, er, trumpet club for which I sometimes write brought it home even more so. Again this needs its own piece, and how, but suffice it to say that as well as a labour of love it was an epic undertaking and a bit of an eye-opener at times. It certainly caused me to think about brass bands a little more carefully than I perhaps have done in the past.
The even more recent death of Jimmy W, ridiculously and unfairly early at the age of 59 … well, you can probably imagine. (Large digression edited out for now.) It was Not A Good Day. More brass band thoughts. It's not coincidence, you know.
Over the decades since I stopped trying to be a serious trumpet player (though you could of course question whether I'd ever really started) I've often worried, or at least blethered on about, the problem of needing to do more playing, and particularly regular playing, to keep my lip in and various other things at least ticking over rather than just actually seizing up. Doing Salomon and Haydn is great but they both work in shortish, intense bursts; in between times, with nothing specific to aim for and no regular commitment, it's sometimes been, ahem, a touch challenging trying to live up to the claim that I play the Accursed Bugle at all.
I've in the past wished out loud that I had some regular, say weekly, playing to do. Kind friends have even mentioned a brass band or two, but it's always been impossible to imagine committing to the travel as they've been a fair distance off. So the out-loud wish, over the years, has mutated and become more specific - what I'd really like, please, is a regular weekly brass ensemble or band or whatever, but just round the corner from my house. Oh, and its fixed weekly time would have to somehow, miraculously, be when I could usually make it but without wrecking my family life, my existing playing commitments, my orienteering, our desire to get out for a decent walk sometimes … well, you get the picture. Not an easy set of criteria to meet.
As an aside, I did even consider trying to set something up myself. I was a little inspired by the success of a family brass ensemble a year or two back, and of something I did at Lottie's school, but I think it would have been a pretty tall order for someone of my undoubted inabilities and it's probably just as well for the safety of innocent ears that this idea never bore fruit.

So we return to the present. I want regular playing; I'm odd/nuts/nostalgic/sad about brass bands; I wish someone would start one in the church hall round the corner; and so on.

Well, I am here to tell you, dear reader, that I have had my bluff well and truly called. Well and truly. For someone is doing just that - they're starting up a brass band, two minutes' walk from my front door ... Wednesday nights; first rehearsal 15th June, 7.30pm: I shall be there. Oh yes indeedy.

As you may have gathered this is a very, very, very big deal to me. For an opportunity like this just to drop into my lap - it's incredible.

Obviously there's many a slip, and all that. It's not really what I'm saying about it now - in a gibberingly overexcited state - that's the test - it's what I'll be saying about it in a year.

Will it be a good band? Will I be any good at it? Will people show up? Will they want me? Will I be anything like reliable enough, given the cloud of other commitments in which I operate? How does a brass band fit into the cruel, cynical, latte-sipping, Guardian-reading, film-discussing er er milieu of Muesli Hill? (Oh hang on, scratch that last one - I've just realized I don't give a monkey's about all that,)

More on this - probably more than you'd ever want to read - another time. For now, we have already reclaimed the rather nice Smith-Watkins cornet - Lottie's cornet, ackshly - from our beloved nephew; I'd quite like to find my real mouthpiece for it (long story) and I prolly ought to, you know, learn to, er, play it a bit … watch this space. But if I don't get round to mentioning it again, please think of me on the evening of June 15th, when surely my world will be changing a little.

Waterloo in the rush hour

2011-03-24T18:37:00.004Z

Indeed, yes, the title says it all really. I am at Waterloo in the rush hour, but I am not rushing. For reasons not discussed here I haven't been at work today, but I have a Salomon rehearsal this evening. I'd usually be rushing in in a Sweaty Panic™ from the office … but not this evening.

For once in my wretched disorganized life I actually left home in good time, so I've arrived here feeling quite calm and benign. A quick visit to a Cafe Nero in the station and I'm lattéed up and happy, and I can sit outside the (rather gorgeous) church and just be, amid all the rush, an observer but not a participant.

This is a horrible and also rather wonderful area. Horrible because, mainly, of the mass of people charging around by car, bike, bus, taxi, train: the station itself is rather impressive but doesn't seem to have quite enough entrances, or they're in the wrong place, or something. It all seems - when you are not yourself part of it - crazily busy. The station is also strange and a little difficult to understand because, like so many others, it has a slightly weird and complex history, the legacy of rail's piecemeal and sometimes seemingly random development in central London … or, rather, just outside it, which is rather the point I guess.

The station is of course named after a certain battle, sure. But what's a little more interesting to me is our rehearsal venue right opposite, the church of St John the Evangelist. This too commemorates Wellington's victory: it is thus a Waterloo Church of (natch) the early C19 and a sister to the lovely St George's, Brandon Hill in Bristol - a place which I know rather well and of which I'm very fond. So, while I usually prefer my churches medieaval, I find the impressively neoclassical St John's a very appealing place, and a very fine thing indeed to sit and contemplate.

Inside, it is rather glorious and beautifully peaceful, or at least it will be until we start work on Saint-Saens, Poulenc and Faure (pattern here, anyone?) But for now I'm very content to just sit outside and admire it, and this streaming busy area around its calm corner, and enjoy my coffee.

Back where I should be

2011-03-21T13:09:00.003Z

Ah, bliss. Here's the recipe:

Fabulous beautiful sunny day
Suddenly ran out of patience with my job
Hopped on a Borisbike clunk whizz whirr etc
Now sitting in my absolute favourite lunch-o-matic concert venue anywhere on the planet - mug of coffee in hand - waiting for GSMD Post-Diploma Baroque Studies Class concert to brew up.

What could be nicer?

Worry

2011-03-20T13:32:00.002Z

I probably ought to worry about things a bit less.

This blog

2011-03-20T00:44:00.005Z

Sometimes I go off into a little reverie about this blog, and how much I like writing it, and how nice it is when people comment on it, and so on.

Then I think about all the pieces I'd like to write, and those that I've got half-finished, or more-than-half-finished, and how great they will (/might) be one day. I get quite into them, figuring out particular angles and turns of phrase that I think will please you, or at least me. At times I have so many ideas that it's as if there's almost too much choice, except that that's fine because there's really no such thing as "too much choice" - it's just a load more opportunities fizzing around, which is great.

So I have this little conversation with myself about the whole thing, and my writing, and maybe a photo or two, and how - perhaps, if I'm very lucky - I'll have written something that, when I go back and reread it weeks, months or years later, I might actually enjoy it, or even go, "gosh, this is actually OK you know".

And then the bus reaches my stop, or the tube train rushes into my station or whatever, and I snap out of it: I'm back.

And I haven't written a bloody word.

James Watson

2011-02-07T07:38:00.001Z

Another great British trumpet player, and boyhood hero of mine, has just died. A really really great player.

I feel awful. It’s so sad. Can he really have just been 59? That’s what I’m seeing. This 4 Bars Rest story is the main source I have seen so far and I’m sure they would have checked.

I really ought to try to write about this some time. I was already thinking I should write something – possibly quite a lot, if I’m honest - about Maurice. And now this. Sheesh. Depressing.

Oopsie-Beebs-a-blog™ - Ferry unlikely speeling

2011-01-12T08:57:00.000Z

I would like to thank BBC Radio 6music for brightening my day once again, albeit in a rather minor way.

The front page currently says:

In The Joy Of 6 podcast, Matt Everitt talks to Byran Ferry about some of his influences in The First Time.

That is all. Yes, Tamsin, yes, yes, I should probably get a life. Ho hum. Tell you what, if I ever do, I’ll drop you a line and tell you how it’s going – OK?

Actually I should perhaps make it clear, having rather rudely laughed at them twice this morning, that I do absolutely love 6music. It is simply the best thing out in many ways. And yes I did listen to it before it was threatened, thank you very much.

Oopsie-Beebs-a-blog™ – Dr Dosh?

2011-01-12T08:45:00.001Z

There was an interesting slip of the tongue this morning in a news bulletin in the Shaun Keaveny show (with Andrew Collins sitting in) on the entirely lovely BBC Radio 6music.

This news item was about the decision that Michael Jackson’s doctor, Conrad Murray, is to stand trial for involuntary manslaughter. In the bulletin I heard, however, the newsreader said, just for a moment before correcting himself, “Dr Conrad Money”. Oopsie bumbum!

Obviously not a national scandal on the level of the famous “Jeremy Hunt” thing (I understand that a radio person accidentally called him “James Hunt” – er, or something) but it did make me sit up and take notice and smirk into my cup of tea (which failed to smirk back).

Disclaimer: this blog explicitly disclaims everything it possibly can disclaim under English law. Further, it non-explicitly disclaims everything else. Then it swaps position, like the old bloke in “Geri’s Game”, and disclaims everything all over again from the opposite angle (Venn diagram available on request [small fee payable]). Further, this blogological entity is a work of amusement and/or bemusement and not to be taken seriously under English, American or even Antarctic law. Finally, the author of the blog has no money so your suing him is not going to end up with you buying a new speedboat anyway.

Hintons

2010-12-02T10:09:00.002Z

Photo by Twiggles at Flickr.
Original here.
Licensed by-nc.

So ... Hintons became Presto became Safeway became Morrisons. Goodness me. Supermarket history, eh ... I wonder if you can do an MA in it?

Fine Fare, anyone? Gateway?? No?

(Since you ask, yes, I was indeed thinking about the Guisborough shop at 71 Westgate!)

School reunion

2010-11-29T12:49:00.000Z

I went to my school reunion and dinner the other week. This was an interesting and significant experience, about which I should write one day - if I ever get the time. I was pretty apprehensive, having not seen the people or place for about 35 years. It was, however, an overwhelmingly nice day. More soon, or sometime, or something.

Chaotic Day

2010-11-16T07:04:00.001Z

Well I'm having a bit of a chaotic/annoying day and my swim is the first victim. Having said that, I'm compensating myself for the trauma with breakfast in a nice caff to which I usually don't get to go nowadays. I'm not sure if this is a net win or what, but hey.

--
Mobile, hence terse.

Location:Aldersgate St,City of London,United Kingdom

Fish Central – very nice local fish restaurant on the southern edge of Islington

2010-09-29T17:53:00.001+01:00

Just went out to this place in the St Luke’s (part of very-South-Islington) area for a colleague’s farewell lunch. Very nice indeed – great food and cheerful service. Strongly recommended.

I had:

Whitebait
Haddock and chips

OK, I know it’s pedestrian of me but, dammit, I like fish and chips and I am weird about “proper” fish dishes … and this was just delicious.

There’s a proper posh menu but most of us had the express lunch deal, which is a choice from three starters and three mains for seven quid or something. Thus struck me as good value and it was a filling and delicious plateful-and-a-half. I would definitely go there again.

Mrs von Neustadt would like it too, I have no doubt. On the other hand, whilst one of the tiny von Neustadt Family Singers would like it, one would run (sic) away screaming and one wouldn’t be too keen but might tolerate it. So not really a family-outing-arama for us.

Remind me to ramble on about its area sometime. It’s interesting.

The Cosmic Bank of Goodwill

2010-09-29T17:44:00.001+01:00

My Theory (which is mine) of the Cosmic Bank of Goodwill. (ahem)

Motto:

You make withdrawals; you make deposits.

Any questions? No. Good. Carry on."

ISM here all week ladies and gentlemen

2010-09-26T12:21:00.001+01:00

From an Incorporated Society of Musicians online petition about instruments on planes:

Have you had any difficulties when travelling with a musical instrument? If you have, please tell us about your case.

Boom boom!

Egg security - also available in English

2010-09-24T16:30:00.000+01:00

This is from Egg's home page for Payment Verification. I don't think I can give you a direct link as they use session-aware URLs. Anyway, the page begins:

Like many other banks, payment verification is an extra security measure we're introducing to help prevent unauthorised transactions on your account.

I always think it's a good idea to proofread these things, or, even better, ask someone else to do so. Your mileage may vary, though.

Oopsie-Beebs-a-blog™ – no teeth or claws?

2010-09-24T09:40:00.005+01:00

This may just be something odd about my always-tenuous grasp of language, so if you are not interested or amused please do move along swiftly and leave me giggling alone here. I'll be fine, really.

I very much like this current BBC News headline:

Montana woman fights bear with courgette

This alone has pretty much made my day. I sit here, I read it, then I read it again, and again, and it just kind of effortlessly flips back and forth between the two meanings like one of those trick postcards, or a Magic Eye picture or something. And, I must be truthful, I cannot see how it is easily fixed in a short headline, or perhaps at all, so I am (typically) laughing but not helping. Tsk.

The thing, however, which has propelled me right out over the edge and is currently giving me mild breathing difficulties is the line that they've used to link to that story from the News front page:

Woman repels bear armed only with a courgette

For some reason - and I could not, for a large sum of money or even for some nice yoghurt, tell you why - this removes, for me anyway, all ambiguity and makes it absolutely clear that it is the bear, not the woman, who had the courgette. I can only guess that it was worded carefully to have the opposite effect, but it has triggered something in my tiny, weary brain and it's almost making me cry, and I need to go and have a nice cup of tea and a lie down. Marvellous marvellous stuff.

Google calendar editing - GCalToolkit - de-headache your calendar duplicates!

2010-09-13T12:36:00.008+01:00

This is another of those little utilities that:

Costs a few quid/euros/bucks/whatever;
Contains functionality that really should have been written in by the developers of the main software (and perhaps will be one day); but for now
Is worth its weight in gold for the time and pain it saves you.

Ladies and Gentlemen I give you GCalToolkit by Neil Gerstenberg. Basically it does stuff that I wish Google Calendar did, like giving you a useful editable list from a flexible search. If like me you messed up importing your repeating events from a previous calendar, and now (aaaaargh!) you can't sort them out because due to cosmic waves and evil undertows in the universal flux™ they became (doh!!) a load of separate, unlinked events in your Google calendar, this is the magic wand that sorts it all out. US$25 - a real bargain for the awful editing hassle you can avoid by using it.

Yes Tamsin, usual disclaimers apply, and yes Colin anyone who uses a utility like this without first backing their calendar up does probably deserve all the bad things that could happen to them (but please do not make that silly noise while I am speaking, thank you). Caveat emptor and all that. But I do back my calendar up before editing it, so ner - and this is a great utility!

Sunny

2010-09-01T12:51:00.000+01:00

It's 1st September today, and though it's not warm it is lovely and sunny. Woohoo! I rode a Borisbike for the very last bit of my commute this morning and it was simply delightful on a day like this. (Come November, I may be less gung-ho about the whole cycling thing ...)

Just checking ...

2010-08-27T09:52:00.003+01:00

Hello dear reader,

I'm just checking that you've seen I'm after your money ... please! from a short while ago in which I grovellingly try to solicit money from you for a worthy cause.

Sorry it's a bit unglamorous, just some Ugandan kid with smashed-up legs and a surgical bill. I mean, who cares about him, right?
Obviously I would rather be trying to help fund heritage cinemas or establish a better walking route through the wildflower meadows of the West Midlands Orchid Preservation Zone, while amusingly discussing the government's latest faux pas over a balsamic latte in the intellectual hotbeds of Muswell Hill. Nevertheless, some tiresome little Imp of the Right Shoulder is telling me I have to have another bash at this and so, darlings, despite the tedium, I'm asking you to have a quick dekko.
I promise that normal service will soon be resumed and I will stop trying to be nice or anything. See it as just a temporary aberration, OK?
If you have already coughed up please accept my thanks, and sorry for bothering you again.
If you do go and look at the post, please also look at the comment where I explain what to do about the Zip code on the donation form if you're not in the USA.

Thanks!
Thanks a lot!!
Thanks a big lot!!!

Bl**dy English weather!!

2010-08-26T17:27:00.001+01:00

OK I'm sorry about Corfu. I promise: I'm sorry, OK??

You've made your point. Now enough. Really.

Location:Buckingham Rd,Tottenham,United Kingdom

It's my best friend's birthday today!

2010-08-24T08:23:00.001+01:00

xxxxx

:)

Location:Parkfield St,Islington,United Kingdom

Brilliant!

2010-08-24T08:19:00.002+01:00

There's an interesting-looking fish restaurant, "Fish Fish" on Archway Road, on the corner of one of its eastern junctions, maybe Causton Road or Cromwell Avenue.

It would be an excellent place for a rendezvous. Why? Because instead of any more complex description, or even its name, you would merely have to say, "I'll meet you in the place with the lighthouse on the roof." That should pretty much clinch it, I feel. In Highgate, anyway.

I think we will probably have to go and eat there, even though I am weird about fish. How could you not want to? It's got a lighthouse on the roof! I mean, come on.

Note: it was apparently called - and I know this is going to come as a bit of a shock - The Lighthouse when it opened, but since then the proprietor has massively expanded his restaurant empire and has this branch and another in Temple Fortune, that legendary destination in the far far west. Since I started writing this on the 43 this morning, I've looked at the website and, more particularly, the menu, and we are not probably, but definitely, going to have to give it a go. Oh yes.

Blogging

2010-08-24T07:59:00.001+01:00

I find myself in a strange situation this morning. Some readers of this blog will know that the Infanta Marfs has been away gap-yearing in Africa for, er, a year.

I should write about this; that's not, though, what I'm thinking about right now - it's a big topic. No, it's something rather lower-level than that, more of a side-effect.

Briefly: while Marfs was in Africa I wrote to her every week. I got - surprise! - a bit obsessional about this, feeling that I must do it. It would be possible to debate endlessly the rights and wrongs of this but don't worry: I'm not going to right now.

What it does mean though is that with Martha home I'm currently sitting on the bus with a slightly odd, empty feeling where I would have usually been working on a letter. It turns out that letter-writing is quite time-consuming. Well, duh, indeed.

So, to cut a long story short, do I enjoy a bit of a break from the slightly driven feeling of needing to write something every day(ish) or do I try to rechannel the "spare" energy (if that's what it is) into something else? Or some perhaps-uneasy compromise between the two? And what's the "something else"? It could be this blog, or that difficult zeroth novel, or job applications or … whatever. Tsk, decisions decisions. I have lots of thoughts and no plans. We shall consider this matter. In the meantime, please have a nice cup of tea and a ginger snap.

--
Mobile, hence terse.

Location:London,United Kingdom

Nottenham

2010-08-23T08:03:00.001+01:00

The location tools on my iPhone think that a LOT of places are in Tottenham. It's most odd.

I have moaned at Google about their mapping, which I think is the root of the problem: the blogging app on the iPhone picks the text up from its location services and somewhere in Google maps it thinks - I conjecture - that most or all of Haringey is Tottenham. I did get an acknowledgement saying they'd deal with it but on past performance this could take, literally, years.

In the meantime, it doesn't really matter that much, which is fortunate. I think the location data is sometimes fun but never important. Please accept my apologies if you're annoyed by this silly inaccuracy.

--
Mobile, hence terse.

Location:Archway Rd,Islington,United Kingdom

Darkness

2010-07-27T20:53:00.001+01:00

It was the longest day only a month ago and, although the evenings are still lovely, it's already getting dark noticeably earlier. Well duh, Vogel … we're already a sixth of the way back to midwinter; what do you expect?

I know, I know. I know, really Tamsin I do. It's just that time passes so quickly these days. They no longer make proper, long-lasting time, the way they did when I was a kid. It was proper British time, made in Greenwich you know; now it's gone the way of most British manufacturing.

Sure it's not the end of the world: not yet even of the year or day. I just wish this gorgeous evening could go on a bit longer, is all.

--
Mobile, hence terse.

Location:Alexandra Park Rd,Tottenham,United Kingdom

Fake synth trumpets on Herbert Grönemeyer's "Mambo" from "4630 Bochum"

2010-07-27T20:32:00.000+01:00

Herbie how could you do this? They're nice parts too. Kindly slap yourself round the head - zweimal bitte - and employ some real trumpets next time. Sheesh

You wouldn't replace the fine sax player Frank Kirchner with some microchip, would you? Well then. Even though they're quite well done they're still not real.

Erm. Are they? No. Surely. Blimey. What's wrong with my ears? No, fake.

Unless, dear reader, you know otherwise…

--
Mobile, hence terse.

I'm after your money ... please!

2010-07-20T14:05:00.002+01:00

Hello. If you read this blog and like it or me at all, or even if you hate me and it - I really don't mind - please consider coughing up a few quid or dollars or whatever to help...

I do hate people grovelling to their online friends for charity money ... er, unless it's really necessary. Please follow this link and scroll down to "Medical Bills for orphan hit by car". I guarantee that this is the real deal and that every dollar you donate is a DIRECT help. The cool thing is, if a few friends donate 5 or 10 bucks/quid/whatever each that very quickly builds. No-one's expecting you to go there and donate crazy money, but, like I say, a few bucks ... all the difference. Sorry to grovel like this but please please go and have a look. Thanks!

Just to clarify:

Kaihura is Martha's village.
The people making the appeal, who run the orphanage, are Martha's friends.
The kid injured in the RTA is well-known to Martha and was in her class at school.
Hospital treatment in Uganda costs ... not a fortune by US or UK (private) standards, but it costs.
You can help very directly. Thank you.

The Infanta Marfs is on the way to the Mara!

2010-06-25T14:33:00.001+01:00

I’ve neglected this poor blog so badly recently that a large proportion of my massive base of readers will have no idea what that title means.

I now need to do about 3000 pages of writing which just briefly deal with, er, the entire year, including a colossal and lifetime-significant trip to Kenya and Uganda, where the Infanta Marfs has been flying the flag for British Youngpersonhood … er, or something.

And that by the way is the good news – the young aristocrat in question is on her way down to the Masai Mara courtesy of the lovely Safarilink, having been kicking her heels in Nairobi for more days than she really wanted … so this is nice, good news and I was thrilled to hear it.

Quite why the blog is so much in the doldrums I am not sure. Sure, although my time management used to be truly appalling, it is now much, much worse than that. This can’t be helping. And then … Facebook and Twitter make it seductively easy to post some quick nonsense about philosopy and the nature of religion, life, football and classical music whereas it’s harder work to come here and do proper writing about serious topics like, ah, Strawberry Yoghurt. It is harder when it is not in a little box, but it is really quite low-value writing when it is.

I was very moved the other day when a Young Person of my acquaintance pointed out that I’d written very little here recently, and suggested that I should write more. I do, seriously, need to do some thinking about this … but, yes I wish I were writing more too. As it says in the FIQ somewhere, one reason that I do it is that I sometimes like to go back and read it. Well apart from the rants and the OCDish bits about spelling, Attlee or whatever.

Hmmmmmmmmm. I must try to write sometimes. Must try. Try.

Bliss - Peter Collyer, Baroque Viola, St Anne's

2010-05-21T13:27:00.000+01:00

Absolute bliss!!

I wish I had written more at the time but really the line above says it all. Gorgeous concert, fine player, favourite place.

Location:Staining Ln,City of London,United Kingdom

Hmmm yes … the silly location thing is never quite right, but hey, it makes me laugh …

Gig-a-blog, 26th March, St Anne's, Gandalpho

2010-03-26T13:51:00.001Z

Gandolpho: Eleanor Harrison, baroque violin, David Wright, harpsichord

Corelli: Sonata No 10 in F Major Biber: SonataNo3 inFMajor Babell: Variations on ‘Vo Far Guerra’ for solo harpsichord Handel: Sonata in D Major HWV 371

Phew! Made it back to London's Premier Lunchtime Gig Church(tm) today after another insanely busy period in my life.

Corelli: lovely, pretty melodies, lively.

Biber: absolutely insane, as advertised. Splendid.

Babell: Handel busked it, we're told, and Babell transcribed it. Fair play to both of them, then, as this was a stunning all-over-the-keyboard number. Go George. Go William! Go David Wright and his Magic Flying Fingers(tm)!

Handel: fabulous. Beautiful and spirited playing from these two very fine performers.

Lovely concert!

Location:Noble St,City of London,United Kingdom

More on Attlee and how to spell him correctly if you are, erm, 10 Downing Street

2010-03-19T17:38:00.001Z

It has been pointed out to me by a delicate but usually reliable source that it may be construed as unhelpful to moan at 10 Downing Street (about their continued inability to purge the embarrassing misspelling “Atlee” from their webbity website) without actually explaining just what the current, ah, ishoos are.

I’m not sure about this (is it really a bit too spoon-feedy?) but the delicate but usually reliable source is someone I hate to argue with (and I never win) and maybe it will be useful or amusing or something, so here goes:

Parliamentary statement on Trident (4 December 2006) at http://www.number10.gov.uk/Page10532 – last paragraph contains “the Atlee Government” as illustrated above. Doh! indeed, Tamsin.
History Audio at http://www.number10.gov.uk/history-and-tour/prime-ministers-in-history/history-audio – under the header “Welcoming the United Nations”, the Attlee graphic has a bad filename and bad alt text too – two instances of “Atlee”. The bad spelling is not visible on the main page, but still needs fixed.
Clement Attlee (in Welsh) at http://www.number10.gov.uk/history-and-tour/welsh-history/welsh-pms-in-history/clement-attlee – main photo at the page top. Unsurprisingly it has the same problems as the page mentioned above – the graphic has a bad filename and bad alt text.
Syr Winston Churchill (in Welsh) at http://www.number10.gov.uk/history-and-tour/welsh-history/welsh-pms-in-history/winston-churchill – visible on the page, under the second-to-last subhead “Y Prif Weinidog nesaf” we have this: “Clement Richard Atlee 1945-51 Llafur.” I’m like no way man.
Italian Attlee at http://www.number10.gov.uk/Page12769 – same problems as the second and third examples above – bad filename and bad alt text for the graphic.

These were found on a quick Google search but I am sure that if you worked there you could do better than this when you were on a search-and-destroy mission for “Atlee”. Also please note that this Google search finds a couple of instances which no longer have the problem, so presumably the pages were corrected after the last time Google indexed them. These are “Spanish Attlee” and the main Attlee page in Prime Ministers in History – so that’s good, and well done No. 10 because these are fixed already – hurrah!

And that concludes the voting of the Belgian jury.

Open letter to the web managers at 10 Downing Street

2010-03-18T18:47:00.002Z

Hey guys,

Here’s a suggestion.

Learn to spell “Attlee”.

Come on, it’s not rocket science. Make a big notice and put it on the office wall or something. Make the next person to misspell it buy doughnuts for the whole office. Work out a strategy for checking and correcting (ermmm, quality control anyone?). Just do something.

Having it still spelt wrongly now is, frankly, pathetic and shameful. He’s been dead since 1967 – it’s not some novel new name of whoever won X Factor last week! I mean, dammit, I’ve been writing to you about it for years. You haven’t really taken any notice, and I must, sadly, conclude that you’re a bit incompetent. Is that unfair? If so, I’m sorry, and do please explain how so.

Here are a few Handy Hints on getting it right:

Do a site search for the spelling “Atlee”. Use Google, use your own web software, whatever. If you don’t know how to do this, please write for instructions (and send money).
Search again, more carefully, because, to be honest, you’re not very good at this, are you?
Have another go. This time check source code, look at the names of graphics, check in your alt text. Check carefully.
I know it’s pretty tough but you’re 10 Downing Street, you can do this.
Do it again and again until it is impossible for me or anyone else to find Attlee spelt incorrectly anywhere, in no matter how obscure and trivial a place, on your site. Don't guess that you might have done it right: know that you have.
Hurrah! You’re done. Have a nice cup of tea.

There you go. Have a great day.

With best wishes

Vogel von Neustadt
Concerned Citizen

Gig-a-blog™: Brooks, Sändig, Pells & Knizia

2010-03-01T13:31:00.007Z

My first G-a-B for a while as I struggle with, er, stuff.

It's utterly delightful to be back at St Anne's for this concert of lovely music by Purcell and Buxtehude.

In my ignorance, before I started coming to this fabulous concert series many years (nay, gurt yonks) ago, I thought that Buxtehude would just be a sort of square version of Bach. Yes, I know, sorry. In fact, being shown round some of his clever, intricate music has been one of the greatest pleasures here for me. Wonderful.

Oh and he's on here in a double bill with Purcell. My cup, frankly, runneth over, yes indeed.

Great players; a lovely concert. They've even arranged some sunshine.

Verdict: nicer than bunny-wunnies.

Location:Foster Ln,City of London,United Kingdom

The back pew of this church discriminates against chubby chaps!

2010-03-01T13:03:00.002Z

... and I should jolly well know!

Something must be done.

Ahem.

Yes.

Carry on please.

Location:Gresham St,City of London,United Kingdom

The Black Bull, Balsham

2010-02-19T22:34:00.003Z

http://www.blackbull-balsham.co.uk/ fantastic walker-friendly pub with stunningly good food. Go there now!

Location:27 High St, Balsham, Cambridge, CB21 4DJ

Why is it SO difficult to find your seat on a train?

2010-02-15T19:11:00.002Z

Pretty much every time I travel on a train which has booked seats - or indeed an aircraft ditto ditto, come to think of it - there are incredible scenes of confusion as people fail to find the seat they're meant to be in. Apparently it's really very difficult to: examine your ticket; see that you are in coach C, seat 23; walk to and board coach C; sit in seat 23.

Why is this? The actions outlined seem to represent a terrible challenge to people who seem otherwise capable, have made it to the station, and look like they know how to play tunes on their iPod. It's bizarre, and I should probably stop writing now before I collapse into horrible intolerance.

Just before I do, though, here's a little hintette-series for travellers on Virgin Pendolinos between London and Manchester (and perhaps many other destinations besides, but what do I know?):

1. You're standing there being clueless and helpless;
2. Even though you've found the right pair of seats, you still don't know which is yours.
3. You're looking at the little LCD screen above the window and it doesn't seem very helpful.
4. Here's my suggestion. Forget the LCD screen for now.
5. Instead, look at the labels on the "ears" which stick out into the aisle for people to hang onto.
6. Look Tamsin! Look Colin! The "ears" have the seat numbers on!
7. See the lovely seat numbers!!
8. Now here's the clever bit: the seat numbers are like a map of the seats.
9. The number nearest you represents the seat nearest you.
10. The number further away represents the seat further away from you.
11. I know it's tough but try to stay with me here.

12. Gosh, this is really a bit OCDish and bonkers isn't it? I must have been in a foul mood when I wrote it (makes a change). Hmmm. Revise, delete, ignore ... ?

--
Mobile, hence terse.

Location:Lostock Rd,Poynton,United Kingdom

Quickoffice does Google Documents. Bliss.

2010-02-11T01:41:00.003Z

Quickoffice have just upgraded their iPhone app, for free, so it can talk to Google Docs.

If you don't know why I might think this is a Big Deal, please don't worry about it - boring techie stuff.

If you do get it, you may understand why I'm so thoroughly blissed out by this lovely improvement. Say yay. Say woo. Say oh look I say that's really rather good, actually.

Marvellous. Scribbling life just got better. Thank you, lovely Quickoffice people, for sorting this out.

--
Mobile, hence terse.

Location:Alexandra Park Rd,Haringey,United Kingdom

Small World-o-rama

2010-01-28T21:26:00.001Z

Missed bus badly, long wait billed for next: instant grump.

Went in pub for consoling half. (The other night they had run out of proper beer, which was a bit sad.)

To my great surprise and delight was served the said half (which was indeed proper nice beer) by one Freddie dL, star saxophonist and all-round Good Egg. We've known him since he was very small, which frankly he no longer is. Good or what? Yeah, I thought so,

Location:Palace Gates Rd,Tottenham,United Kingdom

Pret a Manger porridge

2010-01-28T08:22:00.001Z

So delicious! :)

Location:Islington,United Kingdom

I’ve never been closer …

2010-01-26T08:33:00.000Z

Oh how lovely – BBC Radio 6 Music have got an amazing-sounding Heaven 17 and La Roux joint session coming up, a live gig at Maida Vale on Friday night.

I’ve applied for tickets for this but so I imagine have 47 million other people, and it’s Tuesday now so I am not still holding my breath. I do think it might be interesting, though, and I will try to listen to it or record it or something.

Some readers will be aware that I have - how can I put this – another interest in this matter, a somewhat more, ahem, pecuniary one. Radio 6 are trailing this quite a lot and every time they do they play a couple of tiny Heaven 17 extracts, one of them, obviously, being Temptation. Well you would, wouldn’t you? It sounds like the single or standard album version (same thing, I think), and if it is, and the chunks are big enough to trigger payments, then I might be making a few bob here.

Of course I’m wildly out of touch with all this … it may not be the right version, and the short moments they play may be teeny enough to be exempt or something … but who knows? I’ll find out in a month or two and, for the meantime, it’s a nice thought.

And now I'm here ...

2010-01-26T07:25:00.003Z

... outside Islington Town Hall. Ah the happy memories.

Oh hang on, there aren't any. Not of that particular place. Ho hum.

- MobileHenceTerse

Location:Upper St,Islington,United Kingdom

I'm blogging on the

2010-01-26T07:08:00.001Z

... bus.

This is most exciting. I'm writing and sending this blogulistic entity from a big red London omnibus. Hold very tight please! (Ding ding!)

- MobileHenceTerse

Location:Holloway Rd,Islington,United Kingdom

He’s a funny old chap, that G*d. (The Odeon lays it on the line.)

2010-01-11T07:40:00.000Z

As I write, it is still a bit cold and snowy and icy all over the UK.

The Odeon has an interesting take on what has been going on:

“Selected cinemas have been affected by adverse weather.”

Now, I have to confess that I find this statement theologically very interesting and actually rather exciting. I do wish that a Bishop would read this blog, then maybe she could give us an authoritative comment … though non-Bishops are of course also very, very welcome.

Pics of previous years’ mobhanded icing attempts

2009-12-24T23:33:00.001Z

As requested by a Regular Reader (and Kronprinzeßin).

2005

2007

2008

No, I don’t know what happened in the other years! :)

GJ’s Christmas Cake recipe

2009-12-23T13:56:00.001Z

Ingredients

8 oz sultanas
8 oz raisins
4 oz currants
2 oz mixed peel
2 oz glace cherries, halved
6 oz dried apricots, chopped
2 oz dried apples, chopped
4 oz dried dates, chopped
4 oz dried peaches, chopped
4 oz dried pears, chopped

(Note after all the dried fruit: “If you cannot get all these it will probably be OK if you get different weights, as long as they more or less even up to the same total amount. If you can’t get the variety in the shops try the Julian Graves website.”)

8 oz butter
8 oz brown sugar
Grated rind and juice of a lemon
Grated rind and juice of an orange
4 fl oz orange juice
4 fl oz brandy
½ tsp grated nutmeg
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp allspice
½ tsp ground ginger
¼ tsp ground cardamom
1 tbsp black treacle
5 eggs, beaten
11 oz plain flour, white
1 tsp baking powder

Method

Put the fruit, butter, sugar, lemon and orange zest and juice, into a large pan with 4 fl oz water. Bring slowly to the boil, stir and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes.

Remove from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Add the brandy and spices and transfer to a large bowl. When cold, cover and put in a cool place (not the fridge) for three days, stirring daily.

Line a 10-inch round cake tin with double sheets of greaseproof paper.

Preheat the oven to 170°C/325°F/gas mark 3.

Stir the treacle into the boiled fruit and beat in the eggs.

Sift flour and baking powder and stir into the mixture. It will be slightly sloppy.

Turn it into the tin and bake for about 4½ hours.

Note – excessive hotness

In consultation with the great GJ herself and with the Junior GJ-Cakemaking Year 10 Work-Experience Trainee Apprentice Team of Drs AC and DY, the following has emerged: this cake has a slight tendency to burn on top. The following advice has been offered:

Keep an eye on temperature and time, and maybe consider reducing temperature
Keep an eye on the cake itself towards the end. (Yes Tamsin: Duh indeed.)
Consider giving it a lid of greaseproof paper fairly early in the cooking process. Not touching the cake mix itself but over the top of the tin. There’s no science on what effect this has … er, convection currents anyone?? Maybe it’s just magic. I know, I know … go figure.
It’s a huge cake, and is meant to be iced. Having, therefore, to saw the top off due to its frazzlation is not such a disaster and has certainly happened “more than once”, I am told.

nidbaabeth™ - a sanity-saving new concept

2009-11-28T12:22:00.002Z

Oh thank goodness, a claimed neologism that doesn't turn out to mean 400 things in Danish or have been bagsied by 976 other bloggers six years before I thought I'd thought of it!

nidbaabeth™: No, I don't blog about absolutely bl**dy everything that happens!

You read it here first, ladies and gentlemen.

I shall return to this. (Please see also the FIQ. Thank you.)

I had also considered:

ntidbaabeth™: No, Tamsin, I don't blog about absolutely bl**dy everything that happens!

... but, let's be honest, it is a poor thing beside the glory that is nidbaabeth™.

Thank you for visiting. Vogel out.

I really ought to write something productive and interesting for this blog and not just poke fun at infelicitous language in news stories and other easy, lazy stuff.

2009-11-19T21:44:00.001Z

Please see header line. Yes. Yes indeed.

Rabbi 'offered cocaine for sex'

2009-11-18T22:38:00.001Z

Has there ever been a finer headline? I mean, what's missing? I suppose that something about Web 2.0 would have been nice, or maybe a mention of reality TV or sustainable energy - but even so that's pretty good going.

Oopsie-Beebs-a-blog™: Also submerged underwater too? (fixed)

2009-11-18T18:34:00.002Z

(inarticulate howls of protest fading out into sobbing …)

Look, is it just me or is there something horribly wrong with this sentence?

A car was also submerged underwater too, he added

It comes from the Beeb’s news story Canal leak floods family's home. I mean, if that’s good writing, then is this one better?

Additionally, a car was also submerged underwater by immersion too, he added

- (three-all, yes!) and presumably this is even nicer – nicer, indeed, than bunny-wunnies:

Additionally, a car furthermore was also submerged underwater by immersion in the flood too, he added

- and so on. 4-4! Why stop there? I could go for 5-5 you know …

Go on, then, answer the question – is it just me? I mean, I think it’s terrible writing and it troubles me that no-one looked at it before announcing it to a squillion people, because I think the Beeb should be a champion of good writing and careful editing. But hey: YMMV.

Oopsie-Beebs-a-blog™ – Cymbals are grand; or not. (fixed)

2009-11-02T18:31:00.002Z

NYYYYYAAAAAAAAAARRRRGHHHHHH. GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. THNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!

I’m sorry but sometimes a really good session of News Rage™ is helped along with a little scream.

Right, so Boris opened a new version of How to Cross Oxford Circus today, which is good.

The BBC reported it, which is good, with a bit of video, which is also good. And they gave us a nice set of photos, which is good too. All good so far.

In the BBC report they said this:

London Mayor Boris Johnson unveiled the crossing by striking a cymbal.

… which is not good. It’s even right up at the top, where many people are still reading.

They perhaps got it from the Mayor’s press release, which said this:

… the road was officially opened by the Mayor who struck a two metre high cymbal …

No, no, no, no, no Auntie, that is NOT a cymbal. Really really not. Please do some research.

No, no, no, no, no Boris’s press people, that is NOT a cymbal. Really really not. Please do some research.

I have, as usual, because I am such a sad git, wroted to them. It was, I hope, a humorous and pleasant email message, which may with luck have made someone smile. (Or possibly want to hit me … hmmm occupational hazard I guess.) It even suggested (to the Beeb anyway) a number of starting points for finding out what it really is. (For example, do you think, Tamsin, that the word “Paiste” could perhaps be a manufacturer’s name? Yes, good girl, you may indeed use the telephonic device to contact them and politely enquire just what that large instrument might be. Well done, you shall have a shilling.)

I mean, really.

And yes, I know, I know. Usual disclaimers apply. Thames not set on fire, no lives endangered, income tax rate remains unchanged. The Beeb were just copying the press release (because that’s how you do reporting, right?) and Boris’s press people were told something, or guessed it, and were too busy to get it right. And it’s trivial, and London’s children will probably not fail GCSE Music just because that’s what they think a cymbal looks like. Fine … It’s just sloppy, is all, and makes me sad. And fat, but that’s another story. (Do you think I can sue?)

Update (some time later): I had a nice reply from Paiste, who said:

“This is [a] Paiste Symphonic Gong. We assume it's a 60".”

So there you go. Would it really have been so hard for someone (that is, someone other than me) to check, instead of just assuming that they “knew”? Sigh. But, like I say, no actual harm done … unless of course you think ignorance is bad (oops).

Gigless Remembrance Day?

2009-10-30T22:03:00.003Z

Oh dear. It's 1st November the day after tomorrow and I currently have no gig to do the Last Post on Remembrance Sunday. Do you think I blotted my copybook so badly last year that I've had it? Oh dear, and oh dear again. At the time, I thought everyone was full of forgiveness ... hmm, watch this space. I wonder if I will, in the end, get offered it - or any other similar gig - this year.

If you've dropped in here looking for how to pronounce Reveille in British English then you should probably click this paragraph.

If you want more on the Last Post and Reveille then here are my other bits on the topic:

2007
2008 (rhymes with Very Nearly Late)

- and here's a well-meaning but horrible-looking site with more information about this area:

www.lastpostbuglecall.co.uk

Here's a final thought. If I don't get offered the gig, and they are still using a bugler/trumpet player, shall I go along to the service? Would that be a bit, erm, yes? Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Update: no gig, chiz, but I don't really mind as I know who did do it (the very nice Tom D; Haringey people will know) and I thoroughly approve. He probably ought to symbolically kill me and eat my brains or nail my bugle (ouch!) to the barn door or something, but I guess we can skip the formalities. Go, my boy, this world is yours now ...

Penelope White das Graças - nice concert tomorrow

2009-10-23T08:46:00.003+01:00

Here is a piece I wrote about a St Anne's concert by this fine singer. Now there's news of another London gig - it's tomorrow so get your skates on!

FUNDRAISING CONCERT 24th October 7.30pm, London
Fundraising Concert “Life Cycle and other stories”

The Grosvenor Chapel, South Audley Street, London W1

25th October 2009 - 7.30pm

Come and watch the talented White-Pires Duo in the compelling fundraising concert “Life Cycle and other stories” where they will be joined by guest star, Bruno Santino, member of the internationally acclaimed opera band AMICI. The choice of repertoire for the concert is to coincide with the reason for the concert – children.

A Charm of Lullabies Benjamin Britten

Valsa da Dor (piano solo) Heitor Villa-lobos

Kindertotenlieder Gustav Mahler

A selection of popular opera arias and duets by Mozart, Rossini, Bizet, and Saint-Saëns

British born Penelope White das Graças (mezzo-soprano) achieved her PG Dip in Performance at Trinity College of Music and in 2006 won a place on the first Mentorship Scheme at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. She has given concerts and recitals in England, Switzerland, Italy, Brazil and the US, performing diverse repertoire in venues including St Martin in the Fields and St James’ Piccadilly, London. She is now living in Brazil, researching the rich Brazilian classical song repertoire and attending the prestigious Tela Lírica opera studio at the Teatro Guaíra, Curitiba. For more information please see www.penelopewhite.com

Brazilian Ivan Pires (pianist) graduated in Piano Performance from the School of Music and Fine Arts of Paraná, Brazil. He has recorded several interviews and recitals for Brazilian television and radio programs. Currently, he splits his professional life teaching pupils in London and Paris, also working as a recitalist and collaborative artist in BrazilEurope. For more information please see www.myspace.com/ivanpires and

Brazilian Bruno Santino (baritone) changed the course of his life from being a chemical engineer by winning several scholarships to study singing abroad, where completed his PG Dip in Vocal Training and MMus in Performance at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. As a testament to his outstanding abilities, not only did he achieve distinction in his PGDip but his prizes include the Revelation Singer Award of 2001, UFMG’s Young Soloist 2002, Eleazar de Carvalho’s National Competition for Young Soloists 2002 and was Highly Commended in the Guildhall’s 2005 English Song competition. For more information please see www.brunosantino.com

The Charity
www.acridas.org.br

Foopball - a review

2009-10-13T22:42:00.002+01:00

Thursday, 26 May 2005

There was a foopball match shown on the televisual receiver last night.

I watched it with my friend Adrian and my wife Deborah and my collie called Daisy and a great big glass of wine called Fitou. It was most exciting! At the end a lot of plump gentlemen who had been spectating from the upper parts of the auditorium took their shirts off and waved them around. My word. They did seem jolly. They were infected with enthusiasm by a gentleman called Mr Dudek who very kindly did some funny little dances to cheer up the foopball players from the opposing "team" or "side". Goodness, how we clapped and smiled at this little foreign chap's merry antics!

Yours sincerely

Mr Strawberry Yoghurt

Note: this was first posted on my then-LiveJournal in 2005.

Moonshot disappointment

2009-10-09T21:15:00.005+01:00

In which we proudly present the first and best NASA LCROSS impact photography, complete with massive explosive dust plume and who knows what else. Guaranteed fully authentic and very, very scientific. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the image for which the world has been waiting.

I got very excited about the LCROSS mission and the fact that at 1130 today it was due to smash a great big rocket into the moon. This would create an excitingly massive debris cloud which, the Metro told me, would be visible for a couple of minutes from here, which is a pretty cool proposition, so as I was travelling at that time (long story) I got off the Tube at Kings Cross and went up to the street in the hope of seeing something. What I could see at exactly 1130 was a lot of cloud with maybe an inch or two of blue sky, so I wandered off again to finish the journey. When I got to work, though, it was even more exciting because it was still going on - I think maybe I'd seen 1130 GMT and forgotten we're on summer time, or they'd run out of petrol and had to go back, or something. Anyway, the point was that it was still happening and was live on the Beeb. As the time got closer I watched it and even sent email round the office pointing it out to others. (Sounds a bit didactic of me but, well, I am, plus doing stuff like this has had good results in the past.)

As the moment approached they cut to a camera which I think must have been in the nose of the Centaur upper stage rocket - the first and biggest hitting-the-moon thing - and it showed some quite nice, but not over-exciting, footage of craters getting bigger, then bigger ... then the screen went white, and there was no more. (I conjecture that this was when the camera operator baled out before it hit so he or she could get home safely in their Rocket-Pak™.)

I then thought, great, they will now show us the footage from the other bit of spaceship, or from a big telescope, or something, in which the rocket smacks into the moon and a huge explosion of debris blasts up into the atmosphere (yes I know I know, don't bother me, I'm on a roll here) and it's all dead exciting, because that's what the whole thing was about.

Ermmmm, nothing. No footage, no explosion, no dust plume blowing in the wind (shuttup shuttup), no nothing much really. As I write they still say they're analysing the data but, so far, no wonderful pictures have emerged showing the moment of impact. Well, apart from this one, which was pretty difficult to research. But what actually happened, I wonder? Ho hum ... Onward and, er, downward!

The Strawberry Yoghurt FIQ

2009-09-17T08:12:00.002+01:00

Welcome to this Strawberry Yoghurt FIQ. Please take a seat, a small pile of napkins, and some of these delicious root vegetable crisps from Pret à Manger. There you are. Lovely. Mr Thompson will shortly be along with a pleasant beverage for you. In the meantime kindly proceed with the FIQs.

Why is this blog secret?

It isn't.

Well, why haven't you told me about it?

Ah. Because I didn't know if you'd like it: indeed I worried that you'd actively disapprove, and think less of me for having it. It is, after all, a pretty self-indulgent thing to have. I mean, I quite like it, myself, but I am not exactly proud of it per se; and I could never really say, "hey, you must read this, it's great."

Not long after I embarked on this yogological journey I was talking to someone whose opinions I usually really rather respect. I mentioned blogging, though not apropos of this one: probably Tom Reynolds or Dr Crippen or something. I was quite taken aback by their very negative reaction which was - to paraphrase a little - that it's all a self-indulgent waste of time, they couldn't imagine why anyone would ever want to write or read one, it could never be any good, and so on. So, not overwhelmingly enthusiastic, you may note. After this I wasn't in a huge hurry to blurt out something starting along the lines of "hey, guess what?" and I suppose this has stuck a bit.

There's a bit more to it than that but this'll have to do for version 1. Essentially, I didn't tell you about this blog because I'm still not sure that I'm not slightly ashamed of it.

Why do you have a blog?

Dunno. Seemed like a good idea at the time. I've always liked to write and never seemed to have time. Since I got my first PDA (HP Jornada 450 of blessed memory) ages ago in 2001 or something, though, it's opened up some little chinks of time, for example when commuting, that I can use to write in. This has led to my building up a small stock of pieces that could one day become blog entries - if I ever get round to them!

My Dear Kiddiwinks, well a majority of them anyway, have also been most encouraging and supportive. So, I done it.

So you think you're A Writer do you?

Ah no. I think that I am someone who likes writing, and afterwards likes reading what I have written, or at least some of it. I am well aware that a Real Writer possesses about ninety-three characteristics that I lack.

What do you like to write about?

Obviously there's all sorts of nonsense in here but the key thing, the thing that got me going, is accounts of travel and other odds and ends (perhaps music and orienteering, the odd interesting weekend) that I like to read about again. So in a sense it is just a glorified diary.

What was your first such piece of writing?

Memory plays interesting games with this but I think the first thing I wrote in recent times, with the idea of it being some kind of travel diary, was about being in North Yorkshire when Lottie was on ProCorda North. This was, oh, yonks ago. I still haven't posted it anywhere but I still intend to do so!

As far as I recall I started writing it because I was (mostly) on my own, doing touristy things while Lottie was busy, and I wanted to capture more of the experience than I could with just photographs. With the passing years my memory is not actually improving so this becomes more important.

And your first actual blog entry?

That was on this blog's LiveJournal predecessor and was about the simple pleasures of watching football on the telly. A copy, for better or for worse, may now be seen here.

You writing about football? Ha!!

I know, I know, but give me a break: a cat can look at a king, no? And anyway it wasn't exactly a formal match report.

What's with the Strawberry Yoghurt thing?

Well, I had to call it something. And I do like strawberry yoghurt. Really. And "Fat Sad Middle-Aged Bloke with Various Annoying Obsessions" seems a little lacking in poetry; and indeed, judging by some of the other blogs I've seen, I imagine it's already taken.

So this is not an entirely serious, pure and high-minded fruit'n'dairy-product review site?

Lamentably, no.

And the anonymity?

I think I cover this in the "About Me" bit. As I explain there, it's partly work-related; it's partly to not make life too easy for lazy Googlers; and so on. It's not exactly a nuclear-hardened level of security but I like it. I also, I suppose, like having a spare identity to play with.

And the ranting?

Rants lower BP, lessen risk of brain exploding, maybe occasionally help work through things. Or not.

And the ranting about Virgin businesses?

More to come.

Why Vogel von Neustadt?

More to come. But why not?

So are you really an ex-cavalry officer of aristocratic birth, raised in some unspecified but probably German-speaking country somewhere in The Middle, where coast is somewhat scarce but mountains ten a pfennig?

Er ... Yes?

And yet at other times you seem to attempt to claim to be a northern working-class son of toil, whose Dad's generation was the first in the male line of descent not to go down t'pit, eee 'appen?

Er ... Yes. Odd, isn't it?

Who is Sprengel?

More to come.

What is the name of the Imp of the Right Shoulder?

More to come.

Who are Tamsin and Colin?

More to come.

Your blog seems rather lightweight?

Yup.

And doesn't really deal with the Bigger Issues in Life?

Nope.

But where is The Profundity?

Erm. Friern Barnet? Is it that new wine bar?

The Angst?

Lost me there, guv

Do you really expect your readers to believe that your life is as jolly and straightforward as you portray it?

Yeah.

Didn't you mean this to be an FAQ?

No.

Oh go on, then, I'll bite: <sigh> why, pray, is this called an FIQ?

Frequently Imagined Questions

How should one pronounce FIQ?

Hmmmm – I suppose it comes out sounding a bit fick?

Talking of pronunciation, what's this thing about Reveille?

More to come.

Why do your children have titles, each one in a different language?

The European aristocracy is jolly complicated.

Do you actually read it?

More to come.

Photos

More to come.

Mr Thompson?

More to come.

Mrs Thompson?

More to come.

An ting?

Ah yes. You have Althea and Donna to thank for that.

Zorb Grelzer and The Grokuloids

2009-09-17T08:01:00.001+01:00

I wonder whatever happened to poor old Zorb and the gang? Zorb Grelzer and The Grokuloids, eh? There’s a name to conjure with: frankly they just don’t make bands like that any more.

Bugles (and a Trumpet?) at Henry Allingham’s funeral

2009-09-04T07:01:00.001+01:00

I see the sad obsessive type who runs the Last Post Bugle Call page has written something about Henry Allingham’s funeral. It would seem that expensive and perhaps even painful research has led him to write a line or two describing what happened. One rousing (aha) cheer.

I must say that, as always (uh?), I’m astonished by the way in which, if you know anything about a news story, you quickly realize how much inaccuracy creeps in (like ejector seats in a Whitley!) and so I fear it has been with this story's coverage in the mainstream media. Journos and others happily assert what they think may have happened, or what their prejudices tell them happened, or even (horrors!) what a press release told them happened. In the meantime you, if you happen to know anything about bugles or yoghurt or aircraft or football or crochet or archaeology or theology or sociology or phrenology (OK OK) or just to have Been There When It Happened, you sit there chewing your knuckles in rage and muttering how could they possibly write that until the nurse arrives with your medication. What? Oh yes, sorry.

I remember once many years ago when the local paper did a piece about a dig on which Mum was working as a volunteer. This was my first encounter with Press Disillusionment, harmless really though it was. There was a nice photo of Mum holding up an artefact and the caption said “look, a piece of 12th Century pottery!” Great. lovely, nice story. Why’s this a problem? Well, no-one died but I do remember Mum pointing out that (a) she’d never said anything of the kind and (b) it wasn’t C12 anyway but a bit (a century or two or three) younger than that. In other words, the journalist simply made it up or, if we are to call a spade a spade, they – er - lied. Now as I say no lasting harm was done but experiences like that do make you suspicious; and every subsequent story of which I’ve had personal knowledge has been wrong in some detail or other … and of course the message is that if on my or your small sample of personal-knowledge stories there’s always something wrong, then how right is all the rest of what’s published?

And indeed does it matter? If some little detail is wrong in every story then it still means most stories are say >95% right – maybe that is good enough, and obsessing over pottery or bugles profits us naught. Sigh. I dunno. What do you think?

Anyway, back to the funeral. It was a splendid, impressive affair, and hardly sad at all – which is pretty reasonable, when you think it through. The musicians were great and their performance enhanced the whole thing immeasurably (yes, I would say that, wouldn’t I?). It was especially good/interesting/whatever to hear the French guy play Aux Morts, and to hear the Royal Marines at the end play the Naval Reveille, which took me more than a moment, though it should not have, to recognize. All good stuff.

Picture credit: The image showing the French player in mid-call and the two Royal Marines ready to go next was “borrowed” from the BBC News story mentioned above, thank you.

Oopsie-Beebs-a-Blog™ – witless over Whitleys. (fixed)

2009-09-02T08:30:00.001+01:00

Auntie has an interesting story about a WWII bomb being blown up on the site of a 1940 Whitley crash. The story is quite good until the author’s imagination gets the better of them and they write:

“The crew of the plane all safely ejected from the aircraft.”

Ejected? Really? I don’t think so.

I don’t mean to be rude but I do wonder what the journalist was trying to accomplish here. In earlier references (this particular story is a kind of rehash based upon there maybe being more dangerous remains to dispose of) like this and this they get it right, sticking to words like parachuted and baled out, but it’s only in this last one where the need to rewrite - and perhaps to try to sex it up a little? - has led the journalist into sad (but funny) error.

Ho hum. I have wroted to them. I wonder if they will fix it, and/or send me an amusing reply? The Beeb is sometimes quite remarkable in these matters. I will keep you posted, dear reader.

Oh yes, there’s a nice photo gallery here too, in case you’re interested.

Vogel out. Jump jump jump.

Appendix The First (and only): for those Benighted Persons Who Are Currently Going Uh Well Like What’s Wrong With That Then Er Yuh Duh?

Articles from Wikipedia (the online encyclopaedia anyone can ruin):

The elderly Whitley bomber, designed in the mid-30s and obsolescent at the outbreak of war;

The ejector seat, first used for real in 1942, barely making it into a very few production aircraft by 1945, and far from commonplace for a few more years after that: to most intents and purposes a post-WWII technology.

Are you starting to see the problem, Tamsin? Attagirl!

Update (a little later in the day); it now reads:

“The crew of the plane escaped from the aircraft.”

- which reads rather weakly to me, but is at least true. Sadly I have had no funny email from some nice BeebEditPerson to make me laugh. Ho hum. But well done Auntie for correcting it.

No, no, no, no, no, NO! 2/10, poor effort, see me.

2009-07-27T08:21:00.002+01:00

Look. Heaven knows I have tried to help but this is frankly NOT GOOD ENOUGH:

Dear Valued Customer,

Lloyds TSB has sent you a mail to update your account but still you are unable to complete your account details,As a result of this, We are making an extra security checking on all of our Customers account in order to protect their information from theft and fraud.

Update Your Account [link saferized by Vogel’s Safe-o-Links™]

What can we do when standards have slipped this far? I blame the parents.

Oopsie

2009-07-24T14:43:00.001+01:00

From an all-staff email today:

Dear all, this is to let you know the talk below has been cancelled as the speaker is unwell.

Division of Infection Journal Club presents: [and so on]

I know, I know, I am a bad and pathetic person. It just made me smile a bit, is all.

Well that’s just ignorant that is

2009-07-22T08:50:00.000+01:00

I have been having a lovely time on the Dutch high-speed rail website trying to book some train tickets.

Even before this, it’s been a long and frustrating story of nearly getting what I wanted and then being thwarted at the last minute. When, however, I got onto this site it all seemed to be going terribly well and I really thought I’d cracked it. Yeah man.

But how absolutely idiotic of me not to realise that:

“The specified order cannot be found, or the order is already paid.”

- actually means:

“You need to enable third-party cookies in your browser.”

… as any fule kno.

If only I were clever enough to have realised the true meaning of this perfectly sensible, ordinary, customer-friendly bit of IT Talk™ I could have saved myself much anxiety during the entirely fun and wacky process of trying to buy rail tickets from Brussels-Midi to Bergen op Zoom (as you do). I could have avoided the time spent trying to phone their helpline (you can’t); trying to get their guess-the-question system to give me some help or a valid-from-the-UK phone number (haha forget it buddy boy); the multiple retries, the gibbering, the swearing … the whole thing really. Thanks Hispeed and Worldpay for a very annoying experience.

Marvellous. And yes, I did (with the help of my friend Dr Google) suss it in the end, and yes I have got the tickets. Woo yeah. It’s just that I feel a touch resentful over spending a chunk, however small, of my life trying to sort out something they could and should have told me in one pithy and pungent sentence. (No, Tamsin, not that one.)

I could do with a nice cup of tea now.

Eee appen brass brass eeee

2009-07-09T08:22:00.000+01:00

Oh dear it's a long story which I shall have to try to make shorter but:

Preamble:

I am up to my eyes in it, really quite badly, at the moment. Yes Tamsin I know that "sounds familiar" but please try not to sneer, dear. It is unbecoming and if the wind changes you may well stay like that.
Much of what I am up to my eyes in is harmless, necessary, even fun (though some of it is not) but the real killer isn't the individual items but the combination of them. The same stuff as I am doing these two months spread out over say four of them instead would not be a problem. Well I mean I would still whinge and b*tch like the old drama queen I am but I might actually hack it a bit better. (Please Colin do not make that noise in front of the ladies and gentlemen.)

Anyway anyway.

Matters arising:

One of the many nice things is that on Sunday there is a Stonking Monster Party at the Grand And Grandparental Mansion of Muehlenfeldplatz. This celebrates: a quite significant birthday of my dear Mother-in-Law (a birthday with a zero at its end though an officer and gentleman such as like wot I am would never tell you which digit precedes this); and the fact that my wife's family and their Viking neighbours have lived in the said Mansion for fifty years, yep fifty, count 'em kiddo; and finally I think some mention may be made of the fact that on the 14th - yes Tamsin, Bastille Day, good girl - my Dear Wife Bless Her and I will have been married for twenty-five years without actually killing each other! This is all good stuff.
We have enough brass players in the extended family to put together a small brass ensemble.
I duly received orders instructing me to put together a small brass ensemble.
What do'you think I am, some kind of rebel? (“Spartacus? Yeah, that's him over there mate. Cheers.”)
We rehearsed last night in the "playroom" at the said housoid (see pic).

Now read on:

This was a hoot and a half. We had an interesting mix of players, from really quite good (older grandchildren) via a couple of adults to really quite beginnery (younger grandchildren). The Infanta Marfs has even been coaxed out of retirement to play her tenor horn (to some readers this is an alto or Eb horn but don't worry, it's not in the exam).

Let us make no mistake here: I have been in a complete flat spin over this.

Exactly why, I am not sure, but it's been ... oh, a mixture of things. Nevertheless, we were eventually all there last night with some instruments and some music and it happened. I spent a few minutes beforehand going through the "easy" trumpet part with the littler trumpet players and then we launched into What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor and you know, I'm not kidding, it sounded fantastic. Well OK it's not Philip Jones or Canadian Brass or Whoever but, just for a little thing for a party, I thought it just sounded wonderful. And yes I am a touch biased.

The very fitting main arrangement we are doing is by the Iarlles Loötës and is of the classic Our House by Madness. Geddit? Good. Some of the older party-goers won't geddit, actually, but that doesn't matter as they will be enchanted by the cute antics of the tiny offspring anyway. This is a suitably storming arrangement of this fine song and will I have no doubt be well received.

I wanted to do an arrangement of The Way You Look Tonight, starting in the style of Gabrieli then merging into the song. Don't laugh, it sounds great in my head. Unfortunately it got no further than this so will have to wait for some other gig. Sue me.

What I did do, though, is dig out some old (bought) brass arrangements I already had from gurt yonks ago, dust them off, replace missing parts (or fail to, or do it badly), add the easy trumpet parts and so on. So the other thing we are doing is the Junior Just Brass (Philip Jones's easier line) arrangements of three sea shanties, this being where WSWDWTDS comes into it. This gives us that tune and also Shenandoah and Fire in the Galley. That's a respectable amount of music for the event; we can repeat it later if people want; and I'll also have some quartet/quintet music and maybe some jazz and busker books, in case the spirit moves the more experienced players to go on a while longer while the littlies recover from their trauma with ice-cream and cake.

Sound good? You bet it did.

Lineup:

Trumpets 5 (three experienced players, two not but they are great)
Tenor Horn 1 (live and direct: the Infanta Marfs)
Trombones 2 (both experienced players)

- so this is, frankly, doable. With the exception of me, these are really very musical people and it makes up in musicality and enthusiasm anything which it may lack in stuff like, ooh, you know, precision an ting.

Like I said, I have been very very very worried about this brass thing. If I told you how pleased I was with it last night you would probably feel quite unwell. But it was really great. We are already thinking - assuming we all survive Sunday - that we must try to do it again sometime. It was too much fun not to. Playing together is just the biz.

Note: whenever I talk to horn players about transposition I get a headache trying to follow their outrageous mental processes. I was disturbed to find that Martha has now joined this bizarre brother- and sisterhood. As a person with a very good sense of pitch but very little experience on horn she found it almost impossible to read the transposed horn part. She had fingerings written in, which helps, but the pitch was baffling. What on earth she is now doing is beyond me to understand - I think it sort-of involves reading the treble-clef part in bass clef (though that would still leave you in the wrong octave, but hey) and adjusting the key to suit. It seems to work, is the point.

Note on the note: the worst-ever conversation I ever had about this was with a pro horn player in Bristol. After a while he confessed that what he'd really like best would be for every note to be written as a C, with the appropriate transposition indicated. There are some very odd people out there.

I could go on about this more, but had probably better not. I might, if I ever get caught up a bit, write a bit about what happens on Sunday.

GoodBooks: GornBooks

2009-06-25T00:45:00.006+01:00

I was very very sad to hear that GoodBooks are shutting up shop and going their four separate ways. Their blog tells us that their set in Glastonbury this Sunday morning will be their last.

I liked this band. Obviously, my head was turned by the heady days of 2007 when Lottie and I had a glorious couple of gigs deputising as some/all of their horn section. We had, as long-term readers will know, a poptastic time. But that apart, I thought they were an original, interesting and clever band with some wonderful songs.

Of course, they are also four very talented individuals, and nice with it, so I have no doubt that they will prosper in their next enterprises. I'll look forward to hearing more about these.

I hope we'll get the Glasto coverage on some sort of televisual broadcast thing. That would be nice. I can't make my mind up whether I want them to do Passchendaele (great song, nice to hear it) or don't want them to (green with envy and a bit sad because we're not there). Hmmmm and ho hum, eh?

If I have one regret it's that I never got to join in the chanting in Walk With Me. I'd have liked that. Here we go: "Oh, come on, walk with me, I want you to walk with me!" See? I'm good at it! The next time my pop-o-tronic pop music career erupts poptrumpetastically on a helpless and astonished universe (this is scheduled to be in about 2032 I think) I reckon I'll have to be a bit more proactive about asking (nicely) to do (nice) things.

Bye bye boys, it was great.

Update-o-blog-o-irony: I wrote that last night. This morning, in one of those piquant little twists that a slightly bored Fate enjoys teasing us with, the very first two things that came up on Random Pleyel on my Wretched Young Persons' Portable Phonographic Device were the unmistakeable sound of GoodBooks (The Butcher [We All Fear for You] since you ask) followed by the equally unmistakeable sound of the lovely Ian McMillan Orchestra, who of course were one of the other acts in the Radio 4 Loose Ends programme that was such a jolly jape. (Just for the sake of completeness and my mild OCD let me tell you that they were performing The Shanty Attacker.) So the first few minutes of my journey into work were a sort of little recapitulation of the flavour of that enormously enjoyable gig.

Now OK, randomness is random, which is why they call it "random", and a statistician could tell you why this little coincidence probably isn't really so amazing, because that is pretty much what we pay them to do. Even so, it was quite a cool moment, and I liked it.

GoodBookDex™

Photo by courtesy of James at Mallinsons.

Links-I-Liked

2009-06-17T07:50:00.000+01:00

So, farewell then:

Living with Bert - very amusing, sometimes tinged with a touch of, erm, affectionate bitterness or something. Not updated since 15th April 2008. Your guess is as good as mine. I miss it.
Punclox : inexplicable group writing by Wretched Young Persons™. Do not let your auntie read it. Well that's what it used to say. However, your auntie cannot now read it anyway so that risk is past; indeed only members of the Punclox Inner Circle™ can read it as it is no longer public. Where on Earth will confused people go looking for Donnie Darko hints now? The world is a duller place without Punclox and I salute it (attempts to make complicated saluting gesture but falls over).

I have removed these two from Links-I-Like and I have officially recategorized them as Links-I-Liked. They are now to be found in storage at Wookey Hole caves.

ITG 2009 – miscellaneous weebling on about stuff

2009-06-12T07:43:00.000+01:00

I thought I might use this page for some miscellaneous weebling on about stuff, if that’s OK with you?

ITGdex 2009

ITG 2009 - travel

2009-06-12T07:41:00.000+01:00

Yes it’s a laugh a minute with Vogel’s adventure-o-licious travel stories.

Er, or not.

ITGdex 2009

ITG 2009 - venues

2009-06-12T07:40:00.000+01:00

Oh alright then. I’ll regret this, I can see it now.

ITGdex 2009

ITG 2009 – food

2009-06-12T07:39:00.000+01:00

Did you really expect me to ignore this important, nay consuming (ahahaha) topic? No, me neither.

ITGdex 2009

ITG 2009 - Harrisburg

2009-06-12T07:37:00.000+01:00

About the very pleasant city. Am I including venues in here? Hmm not sure, watch this space.

ITGdex 2009

ITG 2009 – Gettysburg

2009-06-12T07:36:00.000+01:00

We went to Gettysburg. I’m working on my write-up. Honest I am.

ITGdex 2009

ITG 2009 - gigs

2009-06-12T07:33:00.000+01:00

Well you’ll find lots of coverage online – see my main ITG 2009 page for links – so I am just going to pick out a few things which appealed for one reason or another.

ITGdex 2009

ITG 2009

2009-06-04T08:24:00.002+01:00

Well at the risk of stating the obvious I did make it to ITG 2009, the International Trumpet Guild’s 34th annual conference, in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Here are some external links:

It became pretty obvious that I couldn’t even attempt to do proper blog entries while at ITG so instead I'm going to try to do some short sketches in the hope of getting something of the flavo[u]r down. I’m not quite 100% clear in my head (well actually I am usually not even 8% clear in my head, but that’s another story) how exactly I will structure this … but I’ll think of something.
I had a wonderful time!

Oopsie bumbum - never wrote a word. Shall I just zap the lot, or keep them here in the hope that one day I will write something, perhaps when the guilt overpowers the laziness? What do you think? Tamsin? Colin? Anyone??

ITGdex 2009

ITGdex 2009

2009-06-04T08:12:00.000+01:00

Yes, they’re in alphabetical order after the home page. Or did you think I’d just put food first anyway? Thank you Colin, see me afterwards please.

Horrible crap disaster reporting

2009-06-01T23:36:00.002+01:00

Distraught relatives prepare for the worst as they wait for news of Air France flight 447, which disappeared off the radar between Brazil and France early on Monday.

Well thank goodness they were allowed to do so in the calm and privacy of, er, having 63 cameras shoved up their noses. I should think that that will have made them feel much better, plus we the public really needed to see those photos. Come to think of it, maybe they could be asked to pose again, looking a touch more photogenic, and with more tears visible please? And get that woman to move her hand so we can see her grief-stricken face better? That would be nice.

I know I sound like a retired colonel, more and more so, but really, is there no room for restraint at all in a story like this? Hmph.

Orange mobile customer services

2009-05-23T17:03:00.001+01:00

Totally brilliant, 10/10. Martha's lost mobile phone sorted out in seconds, replacement on its way, absolute minimum pain and hassle. And a nice Geordie accent too. What could be better?

As you know I like to be rude about companies being useless. This lot, on the other hand, deserve a big bunch of flowers and a strawberry yoghurt for their superb service. Thank you very much, roger dodger, Vogel out.

So, am I actually going to the US on Sunday?

2009-05-21T08:27:00.001+01:00

So, am I actually going to the US on Sunday? I am supposed to be at the ITG conference yay woo. My Dearest Muvver is a guest at the very fine (though architecturally bizarre) Southlands Hospital. Come Monday, am I going to be in Harrisburg, PA, or in Shoreham, West Sussex? Tamsin, I don’t know, dear child: you tell me.

Hmmmm.

Hip hip boo

2009-05-19T08:18:00.001+01:00

Brief summary: things seemed difficult already, then my mum broke her hip.

We apologize for the gap in blogulistic service. As you know I do not blog about serious matters, and the broken hip is fundamentally unfunny.

Thank you.

Da Management

Language note to Americans and others: “mum” is a BrE word similar in meaning to the AmE expression “mom”. Strangely they have quite different origins, “mom” being descended from the epidemiological term “multiple of the median” which has escaped into everyday language during statistical discussions on perinatal health figures, while “mum” is a contraction of “maximum”, a reference to the size of a pregnant lady close to term. It is the purest coincidence that they have ended up sounding similar. Compare “boot” and “trunk” – no-one would have guessed they are both parts of a helicopter. Isn’t English funny? Aha.

My sensible part

2009-05-06T00:59:00.001+01:00

Goodness me!

Someone purporting to be the Abbey has kindly written to me to ask me to log into their site and sort my account out. Oddly their site is not at Abbey.com as you might expect

Unfortunately, we are unable to verify your online banking account successfully. To ensure your protection, we've now blocked access to your sensible part of your accounts.

I must say that I am a little upset about them having blocked access to my sensible part. I guess I'll just have to live with it. Ah me.

Sunshine, woohoo!

2009-04-24T08:33:00.001+01:00

It’s another beautiful morning in Londontown, Englandland. The city looks lovely; our site looks lovely. Even the man in the Italian cafe looks lovely as indeed does his wife.

Talking of spouses (do you see what I did there?) Mrs von Neustadt was in Vicenza and Udine Sunday-Tuesday, doing some teaching and flying the flag, and was extremely miffed to find that we seemed to have swapped weathers – we were cavorting (well, up to a point) around in the sunshine while she was trudging through rainswept though beautiful streets in Italy with a brolly borrowed from the hotel. Life is just so unfair sometimes, he ~~roared with laughter~~ empathized.

I am going orienteering tomorrow – a little local event run by my own club at Mardley Heath (pdf). I am not sure what the weather is supposed to be doing but I really really hope it holds. I’ve been seeing bluebells in greater and greater numbers over the last week or two and the last time I was at Mardley it was spectacular – indeed it was breathtaking, and I don’t just mean because of my wheezing attempts to run. It’s the insane intensity of bluebells that gets to me so if it’s a good display tomorrow I will really be in floral heaven.

And now I must address issues of databases, scanned graphics, and linking charts in a web site. Hi ho, hi ho, etc.

Have a nice day now y’all!

Jewish Mother

2009-04-23T08:47:00.002+01:00

There are already a good many definitions of a Jewish Mother, with close to 100% featuring Chicken Soup. And why not?

I would like to suggest, however, that a new subspecies of definition might be considered. This is not yet properly formulated but broadly speaking would propose that Jewish Mothers do not see autostereograms, either because they can’t, or because they won’t. (They do after all have Chicken Soup to prepare.)

Obviously this is just in the early planning and consultation stages but I may consider taking it to t’Committee with a view to refining it into a pithy witty aphorism (whatever one of those might be) for release in Q2 2011.

Thank you for reading. Pass the gefilte fish. Thank you. Mmm.

Pessimist

2009-04-23T08:35:00.000+01:00

A pessimist is someone who accepts the offer of a loyalty card at the hospital coffee shop.

Error-Message-I-Like-a-Blog™

2009-04-16T13:15:00.001+01:00

Yes! Yes! I like this error message! There should be more like this, more I tell you. More, more! Muuuahhhahahaha haahahah ahaha hahahah ahahahah ahah ahah aha haha haha!

In other news: as you can see, I am installing SQL Server, well the client side of it anyway (if that is not too, ah, oxymoronic for you) on my office PC. Oddly, I find that I am enjoying myself…

The Sage Gateshead is not in Newcastle

2009-04-16T08:24:00.000+01:00

Look. The Sage Gateshead is not in Newcastle. It just isn’t. If it were, it would need to be a bit further North and then they could have called it The Sage Newcastle, and its website could be at thesagenewcastle.org. But it isn’t, and they didn’t, and it isn’t … because it is not in Newcastle.

I know people like to weeble on about the mighty river-spanning conurbation of, ahem, NewcastleGateshead as if it were Buda and Pest or Ankh and Morpork but I feel this is mostly a marketing term – I have yet to see an example of its use by a normal human being. And even so I might be smacking my head on my desk a little less if I were complaining about someone saying, or at least implying, that the Sage is in (akk!) NewcastleGateshead: but I am not.

Let’s get this right:

The Sage Gateshead is not in Newcastle
The Sage Gateshead is in Gateshead
Gateshead is not Newcastle
Newcastle is not Gateshead
Bessie Surtees House, for a further example, is not in Gateshead
… and while I’m at it, the Baltic isn’t in Newcastle either. No Tamsin it is jolly well not.
Newcastle and Gateshead are close together but two different places. Say it with me:
“Newcastle and Gateshead are close together but two different places.” Good, good.
Gah!!!

Thank you for your attention.

Head of parades body to step down (Pun-o-Beeb-a-Blog™)

2009-04-14T19:09:00.001+01:00

Is it just me, or is that a particularly funny and excellent headline? No, dammit, it’s not just me: it’s a classic. It’s on a BBC News story which goes on to explain that the Chair of the Northern Ireland Parades Commission is leaving his job. Sure, but if the wonderful humour and poetry of this headline is an accident then I’m the Mayor of Maastricht. Some Beeb subeditor or whatever they call them nowadays is well pleased with it, I’m sure.

Nice one. I’d send them a yoghurt if I knew their address.

Happy Birthday Lot

2009-04-09T08:59:00.000+01:00

The Iarlles Loötës is 22 today. Hurrah! Half-holiday for the village schoolchildren and a commemorative plate for the peasants, if you please, Mr Thompson!

The Iarlles was originally scheduled to be 22 on or around the 4th July which you, observant and numerate reader, will note is about 12-and-a-bit weeks hence. It does not seem like 22 years since the most frightening 10 weeks of my life; in fact if I close my eyes I am right back there now. That I am a Sad Old Git™ – though we knew that already - is confirmed by the fact that I still cannot get through a complete hearing of the Athlete song Wires without crying. (Though in a very manly and dignified way, of course.)

Lottie is up to her eyes in it today due to Stringwise. Indeed, Lot, her Dear Muvver and – for the first time – her Beloved Sister of Youngernosity the Infanta Marfs – are all working on it, along with just about everyone I know except Becca and me, chiz and chiz and multiple rechiz on both accounts. I have messed up on the supply of birthday presents – a long and painful story, with which I shall not bore you just yet – but nevertheless the odd giftoid or two will change hands later today.

Tonight we are going to a delightful Italian restaurant in Norf London, into which I stumbled in my usual confused state a couple of weeks back. Ever since, I have been ranting at my family about how good/nice it was on this brief visit and how we must go there mobhanded sometime. They have now called my bluff and by this time tomorrow I will either be vindicated or (brace for side-splitting humorous food reference, brace brace brace) have egg on my face, aha. Watch this space. If we love it, I’ll tell you – OK? What I can say right now is that the signals – if you can trust the interwebnetsconnectatron at all – are very very positive.

More soon.