Blair becomes Middle East envoy
At prime minister's questions, Northern Ireland First Minister Ian Paisley said: "I just want to say to the prime minister this one word: He has entered into another colossal task."
Which is the greater surprise? That Paisley thinks "he has entered into another colossal task" is one word, or that of the nineteen words in the entire quote, none of them is 'No'?
Meanwhile, we must all welcome Tony's new incarnation, impressed as we all are with his existing track record in bringing peace to the Middle East. I bet every child there is sleeping easier tonight.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Bike?
Cooke excited by home race return: "'It'll give me a chance to open up my legs..."
Oh, Nicole... all of Wales loves you, but perhaps not quite that much.
Oh, Nicole... all of Wales loves you, but perhaps not quite that much.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Bay City Strollers
The latest punters on the Rift City Tour are pictured refuelling at our famous pit-stop. Thomas, Jo, Steve and Liam absolutely did NOT break into a spontaneous rendition of the Monkees Theme after this photo, I promise. A very pleasant day was - I hope - had by all, and a very pleasant chicken by three, while only two were even remotely John Malkovich.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Mates are top, innit?
Oops, forgot to say... last weekend I got older, which was rubbish, and caught up with some mates I don't see enough of, which definitely wasn't. The brief London jolly included a few hours at the V&A, to offset the naughty boozing karma.
Then on Monday I spent the evening drinking wine with friends on a Gower beach - something I've not done for way, way too long. So all in all, the rubbishness has been kept in check.
Then on Monday I spent the evening drinking wine with friends on a Gower beach - something I've not done for way, way too long. So all in all, the rubbishness has been kept in check.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Schubert Quip
I really want to believe that this is deliberate. The correct spelling gives me hope.
We get a better class of graffitti in Cardiff, oh yes.
We get a better class of graffitti in Cardiff, oh yes.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Misssster Creosssssote
Snake bursts after gobbling gatorYou could wait a whole journalistic career to write a headline like that. Leaving aside the amusing innuendo therein, this is still the funniest thing in weeks.
We hear so much about the intelligence, grace and nobility of wild animals, it's really good to see them do something reassuringly stupid now and then.
Plus of course, in terms of the natural justice of the food chain, it couldn't have happend to two nicer fellas...
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Zoooooom
My new toy is a Fujifilm Finepix s6500fd, and it's veeery sexy. It does pretty much everything a DSLR can, for about a quarter of the price. Problem is, the weather is not exactly photography-friendly. So, what better than to hide in coffee shops pointing my zoom lens at strangers?
I actually got a shot of Nigel Walker, ex-Olympic runner and sugar-off-a-shovel Wales rugby winger of the 90s. But he was looking a bit glum, so here's some happy chrome instead. Once the sun comes out I'm going to bore everyone zitless with this thing.
I actually got a shot of Nigel Walker, ex-Olympic runner and sugar-off-a-shovel Wales rugby winger of the 90s. But he was looking a bit glum, so here's some happy chrome instead. Once the sun comes out I'm going to bore everyone zitless with this thing.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
The Genocide Itch
It's taken 38 years of living in the war-zone for me to finally become a casualty. But it's not like I haven't done my bit against the enemy, and railed against those bleeding-heart types who preach peaceful co-existence. It's not as if I've just noticed the problem. Shoot every last one of the bastards, I said, but do they listen? And now look what's happened.
Yesterday, I got shat on by a pigeon.
It was loitering in a tree on Windsor Place. Judging by a forensic examination of the projectile residue I'd guess the perp was a Wood Pigeon, but don't think for a moment that I'm going to let those feral phuquers off the hook for that. I could have lived with having to wash my hair, but how did it get the front *and* back of my nice linen jacket?
Kill them all; and if any bunny-huggers get in the way, dip them in breadcrumbs and chain them up in St. Mark's Square. Enough, already. If they didn't have wings, we'd give out medals for shooting them. Mass extermination of urban rodents is positively encouraged - and yet, strangely, no rat ever shat on my head...
Yesterday, I got shat on by a pigeon.
It was loitering in a tree on Windsor Place. Judging by a forensic examination of the projectile residue I'd guess the perp was a Wood Pigeon, but don't think for a moment that I'm going to let those feral phuquers off the hook for that. I could have lived with having to wash my hair, but how did it get the front *and* back of my nice linen jacket?
Kill them all; and if any bunny-huggers get in the way, dip them in breadcrumbs and chain them up in St. Mark's Square. Enough, already. If they didn't have wings, we'd give out medals for shooting them. Mass extermination of urban rodents is positively encouraged - and yet, strangely, no rat ever shat on my head...
Friday, April 27, 2007
A Brief Mystery of Time
After the recent death of Kurt Vonnegut, my juices were stirred to a long-intended re-read of Slaughterhouse 5. It flowed a bit easier now I'm nearly grown up. It's one of those American novels of its time that doesn't actually talk about its main subject that much (the firebombing of Dresden in WWII) and rather uses it as the source for a stream of consciousness.
The aliens (of course, there had to be aliens), the Tralfamadorians, percieve Time as a contiguous lump, and have no concept of causality. I've been unable to confirm if this was SFs first use of such a device, though I suspect so. More recently it was used to good effect in the opening Deep Space Nine story, I recall. It's a fascinating intellectual puzzle to follow, but of course ultimately it falls down, as must any 5-dimensional construct by a 4-dimensional creator. Any being not subject to cause and effect, and thus with no free will, could not communicate with us in any meaningful fashion, as communication itself demands linearity. So it goes.
Elsewhere - and you'll have to stay with me here - I was dipping into some reviews of Simon Schama's A History of Britain, and musing once more on the academic wrestling-match that goes on between the newer, iconoclastic "holistic" historians, and those who maintain the more traditional "Great Events Shaped By Great Men" approach; Schama being something of a hero to the latter breed, and thus having a target on his back. Being the son of a professional historian makes one a fraction more attuned to such political tomfoolery. So it goes.
Anyway, these two amorphous gobbets of mental sputum seemed to unexpectedly splat together when my attention was brought to a quote from Tolstoy's War & Peace; which, I hastily add, lest you think me a wanderer of higher intellectual planes than I truly frequent, was quoted on the endpapers of Gregory Maguire's Wicked, to the joys of which (ha ha) I am a typical latecomer.
One has to be suspicious of timing this good. Hannibal Smith may have loved it when a plan comes together, but philosophical symphoria such as this perturbs me . If I wasn't such a rationalist, I'd swear something was trying to tell me something. Or something. So it goes.
The aliens (of course, there had to be aliens), the Tralfamadorians, percieve Time as a contiguous lump, and have no concept of causality. I've been unable to confirm if this was SFs first use of such a device, though I suspect so. More recently it was used to good effect in the opening Deep Space Nine story, I recall. It's a fascinating intellectual puzzle to follow, but of course ultimately it falls down, as must any 5-dimensional construct by a 4-dimensional creator. Any being not subject to cause and effect, and thus with no free will, could not communicate with us in any meaningful fashion, as communication itself demands linearity. So it goes.
Elsewhere - and you'll have to stay with me here - I was dipping into some reviews of Simon Schama's A History of Britain, and musing once more on the academic wrestling-match that goes on between the newer, iconoclastic "holistic" historians, and those who maintain the more traditional "Great Events Shaped By Great Men" approach; Schama being something of a hero to the latter breed, and thus having a target on his back. Being the son of a professional historian makes one a fraction more attuned to such political tomfoolery. So it goes.
Anyway, these two amorphous gobbets of mental sputum seemed to unexpectedly splat together when my attention was brought to a quote from Tolstoy's War & Peace; which, I hastily add, lest you think me a wanderer of higher intellectual planes than I truly frequent, was quoted on the endpapers of Gregory Maguire's Wicked, to the joys of which (ha ha) I am a typical latecomer.
"In historical events, great men - so called - are but the labels that serve to give a name to an event, and like the labels, they have the last possible connection with the event itself. Every action of theirs, that seems to be an action of their own free will, is in an historical sense not free at all, but in bondage to the whole course of previous history, and predestined from all eternity." -Tolstoy
One has to be suspicious of timing this good. Hannibal Smith may have loved it when a plan comes together, but philosophical symphoria such as this perturbs me . If I wasn't such a rationalist, I'd swear something was trying to tell me something. Or something. So it goes.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Ouroborant
By Your Command Line...
"We don't allow people to walk around with live grenades in their pants, and we shouldn't allow people who don't understand math questions to get the answers."
I hope Mr. Sjöberg is mollified by the knowledge that it took four or five seperate clicks of my mouse to 'blog his article. And that I could have coded the HTML myself, had I needed to, honest.
Go on, link to this post for a laugh. It'll wind him up. In a nice way.
"We don't allow people to walk around with live grenades in their pants, and we shouldn't allow people who don't understand math questions to get the answers."
I hope Mr. Sjöberg is mollified by the knowledge that it took four or five seperate clicks of my mouse to 'blog his article. And that I could have coded the HTML myself, had I needed to, honest.
Go on, link to this post for a laugh. It'll wind him up. In a nice way.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Cosmonaught Percent Surcharge
Tourist handed an extra day in space for free | Science | Reuters
Okay, so a day in Space sounds like a fun freebie - but this one's "further purchases required" clause is a bit of a bitch...
Six coupons from "The Mirror", perhaps. Then we could talk.
Actually I'm bluffing. I never wanted to be an astronaut, even when I was a sci-fi kid. It's the single most insanely dangerous field of human endeavour, and I'm scared of crossing the road. Leave it to the experts. Or, failing that, the Americans.
Okay, so a day in Space sounds like a fun freebie - but this one's "further purchases required" clause is a bit of a bitch...
Six coupons from "The Mirror", perhaps. Then we could talk.
Actually I'm bluffing. I never wanted to be an astronaut, even when I was a sci-fi kid. It's the single most insanely dangerous field of human endeavour, and I'm scared of crossing the road. Leave it to the experts. Or, failing that, the Americans.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Not Quite Yeti
The thing about spending a holiday holding a camera (or two) is that one ends up with bugger-all proof that one was ever actually there.
So hurrah for our erstwhile host, Mr. Jan Johansen, and his brand new electromatic Talbot lightbox. Here we are in our decidedly UNnatural habitat. He was wearing shorts and chuckling at us. Smug git.
So hurrah for our erstwhile host, Mr. Jan Johansen, and his brand new electromatic Talbot lightbox. Here we are in our decidedly UNnatural habitat. He was wearing shorts and chuckling at us. Smug git.
Transport of Sub-light
Stealth train uncloaks on Google Earth | The Register
Top marks for this. Very good indeed.
I can report that Tromsø's bus service operates similar technology. Cardiff Bus's #12/13 service is at the cutting edge of development in this field, and funding was increased this week with an 8% price increase, hot on the heels of last year's 14% hike. The price of commuting into central Cardiff has now risen by 62.5% in four years.
Anyone selling a 4x4?
Top marks for this. Very good indeed.
I can report that Tromsø's bus service operates similar technology. Cardiff Bus's #12/13 service is at the cutting edge of development in this field, and funding was increased this week with an 8% price increase, hot on the heels of last year's 14% hike. The price of commuting into central Cardiff has now risen by 62.5% in four years.
Anyone selling a 4x4?
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Snowed Out
Just look at that. Imagine being blasé about everyday scenes like this. I could never live here, if it meant forgetting how bloody stunning the place is!
It's our last night here and, sadly, the ionospheric climate has defeated us, colluding with the clouds to mean we don't get to see aurora. Oh well - snow is what we came for, and we've seen enough of that to last a lifetime; in H's case, several.
Having managed to stay on my feet for a week on icy roads and in thigh-deep snowdrifts, today I fell over twice. Nothing to show for it except a big blue bruise halfway up my ego.
Tomorrow we fly south, then spend all afternoon is Oslo airport. How this kind of thing was ever survivable in the days before GameBoys and iPods is, thankfully, something I have no need to recall.
It's our last night here and, sadly, the ionospheric climate has defeated us, colluding with the clouds to mean we don't get to see aurora. Oh well - snow is what we came for, and we've seen enough of that to last a lifetime; in H's case, several.
Having managed to stay on my feet for a week on icy roads and in thigh-deep snowdrifts, today I fell over twice. Nothing to show for it except a big blue bruise halfway up my ego.
Tomorrow we fly south, then spend all afternoon is Oslo airport. How this kind of thing was ever survivable in the days before GameBoys and iPods is, thankfully, something I have no need to recall.
So, Farvel, then,
Norway.
You were, in every
Sense,
Extremely cool.
Norway.
You were, in every
Sense,
Extremely cool.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Crinkley Bits
We finally got to bond with some truly award-winning topography today. Our picture shows tonight's sunset behind Håkøya, but we've been beyond that horizon to a fairyland called Kaldfjord (lit. cold fjord) and the album swelled nicely. Go see.
There was time for pizza, and sweeties too. But still no aurora. They're hiding. Boo. I never thought that checking the Weather in Space would become a serious activity, but now we're reliant on this datasource for our one still lacking set-piece arctic experience.
Tomorrow there will be junk shopping and banana-flavoured spread on toast. And some snow, more than likely.
There was time for pizza, and sweeties too. But still no aurora. They're hiding. Boo. I never thought that checking the Weather in Space would become a serious activity, but now we're reliant on this datasource for our one still lacking set-piece arctic experience.
Tomorrow there will be junk shopping and banana-flavoured spread on toast. And some snow, more than likely.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
A Monster's Graveyard
The Norwegian sun woke us early despite the whisky, and we climbed over the spine of the island to cross the water and get a cablecar up Tromsdaltinden. We timed our arrival perfectly between snowstorms and the spectacular views may be enjoyed on the flickr pages.
After a struggle with the Tromsø Easter bus timetable (or lack thereof) and a prolonged siesta, we crossed the water the other way, to Håkøya (Hawk Island), scene of the spectacular demise of the WW2 German battleship Tirpitz. In our photo, Jan and I stand before one of the awesome craters created by Barnes Wallis's 12,000lb Tallboy bombs. Two of these monsters hit Tirpitz on 12th November 1944, and 1000 Kriegsmarine sailors died.
The beach is marked only by a small memorial, made from a hunk of Tirpitz hull. Though the wreck was scrapped after the war, bits and pieces still litter the beach including some of the chains that fastened her to her mooring. It's an eerily peaceful place to visit, but it's hard not to attempt the impossible task of imagining the sights and sounds of that day.
After a struggle with the Tromsø Easter bus timetable (or lack thereof) and a prolonged siesta, we crossed the water the other way, to Håkøya (Hawk Island), scene of the spectacular demise of the WW2 German battleship Tirpitz. In our photo, Jan and I stand before one of the awesome craters created by Barnes Wallis's 12,000lb Tallboy bombs. Two of these monsters hit Tirpitz on 12th November 1944, and 1000 Kriegsmarine sailors died.
The beach is marked only by a small memorial, made from a hunk of Tirpitz hull. Though the wreck was scrapped after the war, bits and pieces still litter the beach including some of the chains that fastened her to her mooring. It's an eerily peaceful place to visit, but it's hard not to attempt the impossible task of imagining the sights and sounds of that day.
Without Prejudice
No Deal Done With Iran - Blair
It is perfectly healthy for reasonably well-informed adults - or 'cynics', as Mr. Blair's gang like to call us - to suspect shady goings-on in the return of the British servicemen held in Iran.
What is not reasonable is for the BBC to attempt to make our minds up for us with the pernicious use of pejorative language, such as 'insists'. The clear implication is that Blair's assertion is being made in the face of the evidence. So far no credible evidence exists that a deal was done. Blair is entitled to have his words reported with a neutral 'said', until such time as his trousers start to visibly smoulder.
Perhaps the Beeb feel that this is their only recourse of protest in the post-Hutton climate? Understandable, perhaps, but ultimately no excuse for acting like just another two-bit rag.
"...Tony Blair insists no deal was done to free 15 Royal Navy crew members."
- BBC
- BBC
It is perfectly healthy for reasonably well-informed adults - or 'cynics', as Mr. Blair's gang like to call us - to suspect shady goings-on in the return of the British servicemen held in Iran.
What is not reasonable is for the BBC to attempt to make our minds up for us with the pernicious use of pejorative language, such as 'insists'. The clear implication is that Blair's assertion is being made in the face of the evidence. So far no credible evidence exists that a deal was done. Blair is entitled to have his words reported with a neutral 'said', until such time as his trousers start to visibly smoulder.
Perhaps the Beeb feel that this is their only recourse of protest in the post-Hutton climate? Understandable, perhaps, but ultimately no excuse for acting like just another two-bit rag.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Subterranea
Tromsø has a fascinating underground road system. Its existence makes perfect sense for what is basically a mountain in the middle of the sea, but it's something to see for those from less extreme environments.
There is a whole network of roads, junctions and roundabouts in the stygian gloom, and driving through it you feel like a drone in some dystopian troglodyte futurescape. Scattered throughout are enormous parking hangars, which, although hewn from rock, are uneven and whitewashed so they look like ice. Unavoidably, my geeky hindbrain expects to see tauntauns and snowspeeders parked here.
Today we found the coldest beach I have ever walked along. Even the gulls were shivering.
There is a whole network of roads, junctions and roundabouts in the stygian gloom, and driving through it you feel like a drone in some dystopian troglodyte futurescape. Scattered throughout are enormous parking hangars, which, although hewn from rock, are uneven and whitewashed so they look like ice. Unavoidably, my geeky hindbrain expects to see tauntauns and snowspeeders parked here.
Today we found the coldest beach I have ever walked along. Even the gulls were shivering.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Discovering snow
It snows here. Lots.
Which is good, because it's what at least one of us came to see. For Heather, it's cryo-torture, but I'm like a pig in fluffy, white shit.
When the weather clears, we get views like this one. Ten minutes later, those mountains had disappeared. We drove over that bridge in zero visibility half an hour after I took the shot.
Today we learned a little about Sami culture via the Tromsø museum, and also about the Soviet POWs here during WWII. We also learned more about the insane cost of living in Norway - but a friendly optician fixed my knackered sunglasses free of charge, so I guess it evens out.
We put off today's planned cablecar ride on account of the capricious weather, so hopefully that's tomorrow's entry.
Which is good, because it's what at least one of us came to see. For Heather, it's cryo-torture, but I'm like a pig in fluffy, white shit.
When the weather clears, we get views like this one. Ten minutes later, those mountains had disappeared. We drove over that bridge in zero visibility half an hour after I took the shot.
Today we learned a little about Sami culture via the Tromsø museum, and also about the Soviet POWs here during WWII. We also learned more about the insane cost of living in Norway - but a friendly optician fixed my knackered sunglasses free of charge, so I guess it evens out.
We put off today's planned cablecar ride on account of the capricious weather, so hopefully that's tomorrow's entry.
Northern Highlights
Plenty to see and do in Norway.
This was one of the first friends we met, at the Polaria exhibition in Tromsø, where we are now staying courtesy of the inestimably generous Mr.Jan Johansen.
Tromsø is 200 miles inside the Arctic circle, and at 60,000-odd inhabitants, the biggest conurbation for 700 miles in any direction. It's over 1000 miles north of Oslo, where we spent a brief but luxurious day of Castles and waffles. Lots of snaps on the Flickr pages.
It started snowing with a vengeance this morning, so we're going out for a walk now. We may be some time...
This was one of the first friends we met, at the Polaria exhibition in Tromsø, where we are now staying courtesy of the inestimably generous Mr.Jan Johansen.
Tromsø is 200 miles inside the Arctic circle, and at 60,000-odd inhabitants, the biggest conurbation for 700 miles in any direction. It's over 1000 miles north of Oslo, where we spent a brief but luxurious day of Castles and waffles. Lots of snaps on the Flickr pages.
It started snowing with a vengeance this morning, so we're going out for a walk now. We may be some time...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)