Can You Lend Me A Fiver?

Today is a bad day.

Don't get me wrong. There's nothing intrinsically wrong with today. Perhaps I should say, it's a bad day for me.

It's that moment in the year that we all dread. At least, if we're motorists.

Yes. Today the car is having it's MOT done.

Even though I pleaded with my Vauxhall Astra as I left for work this morning, that it should revise carefully and pass it's test, this morning I received a call from the "garage man". It went something like this...

Garage Man: "There's just a few things we're gonna need to do"

Me: "Erm, OK"

"Well, your wiper blades are split"

"Oh, well that's not too..."

"Your handbrake needs tightening"

"Erm, right, well..."

"Both your front tyres are worn"

"Ah, erm..."

"And your brake pads are 80% worn"

"(noise indistinguishable from beneath the whimpering)".

So, it looks like being a pricey day. All donations are welcome, although I entirely understand if you feel there are more worthy causes in the world to contribute towards, instead of keeping Dave's car on the road.

Still, it could be worse. The exhaust could be rusting.

Oh, yeah. He rang back later. The exhaust's also rusting.

But all this MOT business has achieved one thing that I never thought possible.

It's made the congestion charge look cheap.

A Lovely Day...

This is likely to be my last post for a few days. Well, until at least Tuesday.

The excus...sorry, reason - is that I've got quite a busy few days ahead. Tomorrow in particular.

My lovely daughter Lucy will be one whole year old tomorrow, and we're having a little (alright, big) family gathering to celebrate.

That's all I have to say today, really.

Have a lovely weekend.

The Colonel's Calling...

Those of you who know me well will be aware that, during my student days, I did something terrible. Awful. Something I find it very difficult to come to terms with even now, nearly ten years on.

I worked in fast food.

I know, I know. If you are just a happy browser coming across this, I wouldn't blame you if you never pointed your mouse in direction again, but it's true. For nearly three years, I worked for a popular high street fried chicken outlet. Originating in Kentucky.

It's not that I have any problem whatsoever with people who work in fast food. Please don't be offended if that is your current situation. But no-one can say they enjoy it, can they?

This long meandering post is merely build up for hoping that you'll point the little white arrow here to see exactly what the aforementioned poultry purveyors are up to these days.

By taking such an extreme course of action, they're demonstrating that they must really be desperate.

I mean, fish for goodness sake...

Can't Live With 'Em...

Computers.

I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with them, really. A lot of my work is heavily connected with them. I use them for the vast majority of my working day. When all is going well, they are incredibly useful tools that enable us to do many things we might not otherwise be able to do. When they go wrong, they make you want to set fire to your desk, and everything on it.

The problem is that we're so entirely reliant on them these days. A few weeks ago, for a long, boring fuse-related reason, I had no power to my desk and so my computer couldn't be switched on. I couldn't do anything (let me repeat that - anything) until the power had been restored. There was no aspect of my job that I could occupy myself with in the meantime. I was utterly helpless. I may as well have lost the use of my arms.

Over the last few days, I've been wrangling with a problem involving our radio playout system. It's my current (slightly cursed) responsibility to maintain it, and I've been having problems getting it to do one particular thing it needs to do. I shan't mention the name of the company we use, but they are a large one. They have, as all such companies do, a "help"line that hapless people like myself should call when one comes across a problem.

I rang first thing this morning. It's now late afternoon. They haven't called me back. What a great "help".

I daresay it will all sort itself out in the end, and without the computer, what I need to do would take a lot longer. But that doesn't stop me wanting to throw it out of the window.

But I can't even do that because the windows don't open. Why? Air conditioning. Controlled by a computer.

Is it me, or is it hot in here?

Toss It!

Ah, pancakes.

A simple concoction of flour, milk and eggs, whisked together and fried. Who's have guessed that the tradition pre-lent snack would cause so much excitement in our nation. We must get out more.

I like pancakes. I really do. I'm a traditionalist at heart, so it's the simple lemon and sugar for me. My wife likes golden syrup. Different strokes, I suppose. We had some in the office today, but because we haven't got anywhere to fry them, we had the microwave ones. They weren't the same, of course, but they weren't bad. And the lemon and sugar was in abundance, so all was well.

And when I go home tonight, we shall have a minimal dinner to leave maximum room for more fried batter covered in calories. I shall probably have the annual attempt to toss said pancake in my frying pan, but will end up scraping it off the floor, before my very-nearly-one-year-old-daughter crawls over and attempts to play with it.

So, if you're enjoying pancakes today, revel in the joy that they are about the most simple thing to make, but bring the most joy. Probably because most of us only really have them once a year.

But the most amazing thing about pancakes? Put the batter in a hot dish in the oven, and it'll turn into a yorkshire pudding!

Wonders will never cease.

Why The Tube Sucks

The Tube Sucks.

It's as simple as that. The London Underground is a nightmare.

Twice this week it has taken me an extremely long time to get home. Both times because a train was taken out of service. And what do I pay for this service? Six pounds a day. To go about ten miles. Rubbish.

I know that it was starved of investment for decades. That they're trying to catch up. That it will get better. That's all fine. But here's the problem. Next week they're extending the congestion charging zone in London, so more people will be forced onto the tube system to avoid paying the ludicrous eight pounds per day.

Why not get the public transport system up to scratch, and then charge people for driving.

Idiots.

Happy Friday

The Tipping Point

You may have noticed, eager reader, than on yesterday's entry I alluded to my valentine gift from my wife - a book I've wanted for ages. I thought that, perhaps, I might be overwhelmed with comments and enquiries as to what that book is. I haven't been. So, erm...thanks.

But I'm going to tell you anyway. It's The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell. I read his more recent book Blink a few months ago, and liked it enormously. It's really a book about how your instincts react in certain situations. It's full of fascinating examples and stories. I really enjoyed it.

I was, therefore, keen to investigate his previous book, The Tipping Point, in the hope that it would light my fire in the same way. It's a book about social epidemics - about how and why certain things that one minute no-one has ever heard of, all of a sudden are absolutely everywhere. How small changes can make a difference. I'm also enjoying this one, but am not far enough through it to offer a comprehensive review yet. But I'm sure I will. I know you can't wait.

The main reason I wanted to mention this today was an incredible, yet I'm sure quite true, fact that Gladwell uses to illustrate how small things make a big difference. Imagine you had a large piece of paper that you folded in half. Then folded in half again. And again. And you keep going until you have folded it in on itself fifty times. How high do you think the "stack" would end up being.

A few centimetres? A metre? Longer?

In actual fact, it would stretch from here to the sun. And if you folded it once more, it would reach from here to the sun, and back again.

Amazing, eh? You'd never think it would you? It's because the thickness of the paper rises exponentially. Isn't it interesting how our minds trick us?

So, I thought you'd find that interesting. By the way, don't actually try and fold a piece of paper that many times. You won't be able to. No matter how big the piece of paper is, you'll find it's impossible. The question here is entirely hypothetical.

I bet you'll try though.