Credit Crunch?

Good to see it isn't all bad news. Phew!

Old men.

I've just witnessed a guy who had left his seat for a couple of minutes in the British Library with the desk full of his stuff including several books and his computer plugged in and turned on have his seat taken by an old guy who has now refused to budge for the last 5 minutes and made a ridiculous scene. I've spent a fair bit of time in libraries in general over the years and it never ceases to amaze me that it is singularly old men who I've seen cause problems by taking people's seats when they are clearly taken. I can't wait to get old, it's going to be so much fun.

Neglectful me.

I realised I've been somewhat neglectful of this blog - working full time, looking for jobs and doing Mitch's Honey do list means I don't get much time to write more, honest. So, in order to rectify this a little, I've got a pictorial catalogue of some of the things I've been up to over the last few months.

So, in no particular order:

I was joint best man for one of my oldest and best friends' wedding:


Mitch and I went to South London to visit my friend Stig where his daughters painted Mitch's nails, much to her, their and our general delight:


I went to the Falkirk Wheel! It was aces:


I'd wanted to go for ages and finally made it. It's powered by something like the equivalent of 8 irons plugged in. Or the same amount of electricity needed to keep Mitch warm.

I also went to Bergen and stayed with my friend Per down by the fjords. It was lovely. I also presented at a conference, but really that's an aside compared to staying at Per's house:



It was so fantastically dark at night that the window became a veritable mirror:


Per's neighbours had a nice hoose, but a wee bit remote for me:


Okay okay, I'll show you a picture of Bergen proper as well, since it is so pretty:


You can see the UNESCO World Heritage site just to the left of the picture there, it was pretty cook if a little rickety. Not really surprising given its age of course.

Mitch and I went to Brighton where we met up with her brother and his fiancee. Mitch looks pretty in black and white:


I adopted 3 cats. Well, I say adopted when I really mean looked after for a week through visitation rights. The one on the far right under the bed is called Sarah, the one with the arched back is called Stone and the other one is called Kans. We were best friends for a week. Probably because I could guarantee access to the dried tuna. No probably actually, definitely.


Duncan grew a ponytail and had me laughing like a drain:


My sister and her family came to see us and we went to the Natural History Museum and had a great time looking at all the animals:



We also went to St Andrews for a wee trip:




See, I have been busy!

My wife.

Is such a lovely woman. But I still can't understand why she bought enough tulle to stretch across a football pitch. 100 YARDS of it!

Berlusconi Mk II.

Give Silvio his due, just when you think he isn't capable of being any more idiotic than he has been, he does it again here.

Silvio thinks Obama is 'tanned'.

Imagine.

Just imagine the horror.

I could spend all day writing about this, but I shan't.

Wrong again.

Turns out I was wrong, but boy am I pleased about it!

Just to clarify.

I REALLY hope Obama wins. That's all.

Happy Birthday!

Diego Armando Maradona is 48 today. Probably one of the best footballers I've ever played against. Actually, I've never played against him, but I surely couldn't have done worse than this lot right?



Perhaps not.

The ridiculousness of the market.

Did anyone see this? Porsche, a company worth around about $7bn has managed to acquire options of up to 75% ownership of Volkswagen, a company worth up to $115bn, by playing the hedge funds at their own game. Of course, now the hedge funds are complaining about it which is a real shame for them. I particularly like the comment made by the former Deputy Chancellor of Germany, Franz Munterfering, re certain people in the financial services industry:

"Some financial investors spare no thought for the people whose jobs they destroy. They remain anonymous, have no face, fall like a plague of locusts over our companies, devour everything, then fly on to the next one."

Masters of the universe, if you will. Or not.

Another graphic.

The US election is nearly upon us and it's looking interesting. Obama is in the lead, but McCain's been the underdog before and still won the nomination to run. Who's going to win? No idea, probably McCain, perhaps Obama. Obviously I'd prefer the latter by virtue of the fact that the current Republican administration has been an unmitigated disaster in almost every way - the economy, foreign policy, domestic security and making the current regime the most invasive, power hungry and in thrall to big business government the US has ever had. For the so-called party of economic growth the following graphic shows succinctly that it's no more than a lie that the Republicans are the party of economic growth and prosperity:


Quite how they managed to pull that lie off is alien to me, but I will say one thing for them, they've got misinformation down to a fine art.

But, there is always room for a chuckle in any election so click on this and then click away to your heart's content. Made me laugh several times.

Credit crunch and the UK made easy.

Interesting graphic here:


So, in bailing out the ailing banking system in the UK by spending at least £500bn, the government is over-stretching its spending projections by 81%. Where's Prudence when you need her? What's the bets that it'll be health and education that get squeezed (or squoze if you are Utahn, apparently), rather than say defence (now there's a misnomer) expenditure? And how many of these banking executives will be losing their jobs for messing up so spectacularly? How many won't get their bonuses this year? How many will do the honourable thing and resign their positions in light of their outstanding failure? Aye, nane. And whose money will they be spending? The taxpayers'. For the £50bn part-nationalisation component of the bailout alone it is going to cost each taxpayer £2000. I wonder if the banking executives will notice it in their annual bonus this year? I'm guessing not.

Even I'm tempted by this.

Well, apart from the cigarettes. Ooft, can you imagine the carnage in your stomach after some of that? All available from here. I realise as a vegetarian it is probably against my better judgement to advertise that place, but it does look good and tasty. I mean, look how happy this guy looks!

Guess I was wrong.

You know how I wrote a post about the Al Burj in Dubai being massive? Turns out it's not so massive in comparison to this badboy:



Ridiculous! It is part of a litany of projects that are mooted for construction in Dubai, of which more can be found here. I particularly like the Dubai Death Star and The Cloud. Sounds like some architects have been watching a little too much Star Wars.

The worst film of all time, ever?

I've just saw a trailer for what might be the worst film idea and execution of all time. You know The Warriors? Cult classic story of a gang trying to get back to its turf set in 1970s New York? Great film and one of my favourites. Well now we have The Purifiers. Set in a futuristic Glasgow and a rip off The Warriors movie, with KUNG FU added in. I watched the trailer and I can still smell it. It stinks.

Worst. Movie. Idea. Ever.

London is expensive.

I've complained about it time and again of course, so Mitch and I have been thinking about ways that we can raise our standard of living and have hit upon this! Isn't it great? I mean, 437.4% apr?! Sounds like a bargain to me! Or loan sharking. Scum.

Stevie Wonder.

So Mitch and I, as a consequence of the Bishop of her church's generosity, got to sit in a corporate booth and watch Stevie Wonder at the O2 arena on Tuesday night.

Our view of the stage before Not So Little Anymore Stevie Wonder hit the stage:


Here's Stevie doing his thing, doesn't he look good?


Aye, he's a showman for sure. Here he is again, right in the middle at the front of the crowd:


All in, I thought it was a great show although I'd have preferred if he'd played some of his early Motown stuff but it'd be churlish to complain given he played Living For The City, Higher Ground and Superstitious. I'd have killed to see him do Uptight though.

I should also note that all the way through Stevie kept referring to how he was voting Obama and that anyone with a vote should be doing the same. A sentiment I certainly agree with, but it made me think of the alternative. Isn't she lovely?

Crane Operator Needed.

Anyone fancy a job as a crane operator on the Burj Dubai?


Can you imagine if you needed to go to the loo?

As tall as that ridiculous building is, it's not even going to be the tallest! The Al Burj on the far left is going to be bigger:

Isn't Sarah Palin a lovely woman?

I mean really, isn't she?! The first one was the clincher for me. Such compassion.

Nick Clegg: comedian.

The leader of the Lib Dems seems to think that his party are 'headed for government'. Oh my aching sides. They've as much chance of winning power as I do of winning the lottery. I never play the lottery.

In spite of the goatee beard.

Ian Bell has written an interesting article in today's Herald on Marx and the current disastrous US financial situation here. It reminded me of the several visits I've made with friends to Highgate Cemetery to see Marx's tomb below:


Surrounding the tomb are the graves of numerous erstwhile left leaning people who in all likelihood, alongside Marx, would view the current situation in the US and beyond as nothing more than expected, and with some justification. There is no little irony in seeing the free market trumpeting Republicans intervening left right and centre and bailing out companies that are now seeing the spoils of their lackadaisical (at best) approach to financial management coming home to roost. But of course, we've to feel sorry for the managing directors. Not the millions of people who are facing homelessness and unemployment as a result of being conned into thinking that they could afford mortgages way above their income. The 'credit crunch' will make its way into history textbooks in time and whoever decides to take up the analysis of it will likely have to set aside some time to analyse the myriad terms, industries, sub-industries and tangles that the sub-prime market impacts on.

Oh, and another thing. The facility set up by Goldman Sachs et al to help stabilise the market (HA!) reminds me of a similar action taken 40 years ago in Basle when the international monetary system was having some difficulties. Who says what I do isn't relevant?

Andy Bevan I salute you.

For getting it so, so wrong.

Andy you see was, until recently, an employee of Lehman Brothers who worked in equity derivative finance. Andy received official word about Lehman Brothers' effective demise and his own redundancy yesterday and who did he feel sorry for? The MANAGING DIRECTORS! Why? Because 50% of their bonus was paid in stock in the company that is now worthless. Unbelievable. I'm finding it difficult to comprehend how you can feel sorry for people who have trousered millions from running a company who have filed for the largest bankruptcy in history. I guess that shows how Andy is a better person than me. Or delusional.

All here.

WHO states the obvious.

Here.

Well knock me down with a feather eh?

Ach.

I will be back, it's just that we've moved and I don't have any regular internet access. Pah.

Not a bad idea this.

Click here and click I agree. You know you want to.

For sale.

Our first marital home here. What a lovely price eh? Sadly we won't see any of it as we are renting. We could live like kings (or a queen in Mitch's case) for that price in Scotland. We're off to look at a place just behind us but it'll be sad to move out, mainly because we both hate moving. Oh, and of course it's our first marital home. Och weel, such is life. Any takers?

Life imitating art?

I've been somewhat tardy in updating I realise (and I do have more to say), but my eye was caught by this, which reminded my immediately of the video below. Oh dear.



I shouldn't have laughed, but...

It's that man again.

I've mentioned him before here, but upon reading about him again I discovered what his name actually means, and it's a doozy.
Born Joseph-Désiré Mobutu, he changed his name to Mobutu Sese Seko wa za Banga. Which is I suppose fair enough, but its meaning is fantastic: 'The all-powerful warrior who, because of his endurance and inflexible will to win, will go from conquest to conquest leaving fire in his wake.' How good is that? My name on the other hand means Champion Big Hill Son of Kenneth. Not quite as exciting. As if Mobutu's name change wasn't enough, he also decided to have some official rumours spread about his abilities including his supernatural feats of killing a lion with his bare hands at the age of 7 and the battle he fought against Zaire's enemies where bullets and spears bounced off his chest, to name but two. What a guy. I've realised that I've perhaps taken the wrong approach to self-advertising and should ramp it up a bit to get on in life. Any suggestions about what I should call myself or what I should tell people?

More about the big man here.

THIEVES!

No not the Tories, although I am led to believe that Tory is gaelic for 'robber' (which may or may not be true, but apt nonetheless), but the scumbag that skimmed my bank card and trousered several hundreds of our hard earned out of our account. I knew living in London would bring with it all sorts of interesting experiences and I did think that having money electronically half-inched was a distinct possibility, but actually seeing the reality of your account being abused wasn't that much fun. In saying that, even less fun was the bank saying that since my card was present at the transactions (which it most certainly wasn't as it was in my pocket on my person) they couldn't consider it fraud. When I pointed out to them that my card was not present but a copy of it may have been they asked if I was sure I wanted to 'take it forward as fraud'? No no, just you let some criminal continue stealing our money, that sounds like a great idea to me. Where do these people get their crazy ideas from?

Missing the point.

Have a look at this. Here's a brief synopsis:

Dr Charlton said: "The UK Government has spent a great deal of time and effort in asserting that universities, especially Oxford and Cambridge, are unfairly excluding people from low social-class backgrounds and privileging those from higher social classes.
"Yet in all this debate a simple and vital fact has been missed: higher social classes have a significantly higher average IQ than lower social classes."
The fact that so few students from poor families get into Oxbridge is not down to "prejudice" but "meritocracy", he said.

Of course it is Dr Charlton, that's all there really is to the story isn't it? Nothing to see here people, move along. Just another apologist for the retention of the privileged position of Oxbridge and the nepotism that's made Britain Great. How a supposedly learned academic can be so blinkered and unable to engage with the reality is frankly staggering. People are obviously just smarter the more money they have! If I'd only realised earlier I'd have just set about earning money and accumulating as many material possessions as possible and sat their while my brain grew. I'm glad I've finally seen the light, I don't think I'll bother going to my doctoral graduation now. I'll just get myself a credit card and start spending money I don't have. Oh, and get a nice Barrett house as well.

Things wot I saw in London over the last week.

I saw things, things I never thought I'd see.

Like a fat Richie lookalike:


And a man upside down in a bin (not really):


Then a giant gorilla hand/chair going into a doorway:


The gorilla hand came from a wee antique shop where Mitch and I have bought some furniture, but alas was far too big for our
humble abode sadly.

The things you see in the Big Smoke eh? Crazy days people.

Web 2.0 shenanigans.

Via Richie I signed up to Blip.fm. Have a shifty here.

Mmmmm!

Yum!

I bothered the Fourth Estate again.

But of course I forgot to tell you. Here it's. it was written in response to this. I couldn't let it lie you see...

Theses.

Carrying these things just about killed me:

What to do?

I was reading Ian Bell's piece in The Herald on t'internet this morning and found that he neatly encompassed my own views on renewables and, in particular, wind-farms. I love the sight of them just after Stirling when I find myself on my way to Perth from Glasgow. I remember driving, or rather being driven, up the Pacific Coast Highway between San Diego and LA and seeing a wind-farm out in the desert and being struck by how much more attractive they were than the unsightly concrete warts on the landscape that was San Onofre nuclear power station. The reason why I couch the discussion in terms of aesthetics is due to it being the over-riding concern of many who object to wind-farm construction. Of course, there is good reason for this - in the Highlands in particular amenity is the lifeblood of many communities, being as it were the primary reason for tourists to visit the place. Consequently this has to be taken into consideration when plans for wind-farms are being discussed. But, given the choice between wind-farms which are easily removed and a nuclear/coal/oil-fired/biomass power station which is not, it seems to be the rational choice (along with wave and solar, in time). Of course, there are problems with wind-farms but their environmental footprint is far less intrusive than the alternatives. Indeed, their environmental impact in terms of pollution is also far far less offensive as well. Perhaps localised energy production is the answer? Rooftop solar and wind generators? The money we've spent chasing foreign misadventures could easily have been channelled into this with far far more pleasant results for everybody.

But in saying all that, I do disagree with Bell on one thing: I actually love the sight of Grangemouth. It looks like a vision of Dante's inferno located right by Falkirk. I also have a passing fascination with power stations and appreciate their own unique brand of brutalism. Huge cooling towers are a favourite - massive hulking constructions that look like quite unpleasant bouncers on the door of a club. Wind-farms are positively birdlike in comparison. Then you have our other form of energy production and consumption, oil. Offshore oil platforms, in the UK built and repaired in Nigg Bay north of Inverness, are massive constructions that float out in the middle of nowhere pumping the lifeblood of the British economy and society into the mainland. They're hardly attractive, and even less so when you consider the pollution they bring to country, albeit necessarily so. Remember the brouhaha over the Brent Spar platform when Shell wanted to junk it and scuttle it? Few people complain about their lacking aesthetic qualities or ruining of amenity when they are being tugged along Nigg Bay to be fixed up or sent back to sea. In saying that, we could have ended up with something like Oil Rocks in the Caspian Sea:




Yes, a veritable city built in the middle of the sea about 40km offshore from Baku. There's a library and a hospital as well as anywhere between 2000-5000 people living there making their way around 200km of roads built on stilts in the middle of the sea. Many of the roads are completely submerged having sunk into the seabed and the water levels reach up to the second-floor windows in some buildings. So I suppose Grangemouth isn't quite as bad in comparison.

Of course this is a simplistic analysis of the pros and cons of power generation, but not completely without merit. The strike at Grangemouth (which I personally have absolutely no problem with - the company are at it)(an oil company? at it? qualle surprise!), as Bell states, shows the fragility of the carbon economy that we have. Any attempts at moving that towards a more renewable-based model of production is fine by me. Preferably with the areas of amenity firmly intact of course. Easier said than done maybe.

Reminiscing about trainers.

I was thinking about my 6 year old nephew yesterday and wondering how long it will take before he becomes obsessed with trainer/sneakers (for my American readers). I think I first really got into trainers when I went to secondary school. Before that I was more interested in what football boots I could get my hands on - my first pair were from Woolwoths and cost £5.99 if I remember correctly. They didn't fit so well and I hated playing football in boots for years after. It was an old neighbour and classmate of mine's brother who got me started on an unhealthy obsession with trainers that lasted from about the age of 11 until 14. He owned these ridiculous things:


Adidas Torsion they were called. The Torsion bit comes from a yellow plastic bar that runs through the middle of the sole of the shoe that sat right underneath your unstep and apparently gave you more stability. At £79.99 they were more likely to have given you a smack around the lug if you had the temerity to ask your parents for a pair at age 11. Needless to say I never.

The holy grail of trainers at 11-12 years old however were the Nike Air Jordans. Ranging from £99.99 - £119.99, depending on whether you shopped at Pro on the High St or Inter Sport in the mall, and coming in two colours these bad boys were owned exclusively by spoilt children whose parents clearly had too much money. Check them out:



The black ones were definitely the more desirable of the two, giving you that 'edginess' as a young lad strutting your stuff around the mean streets of North Muirton, Perth. I think only one kid I knew had them and that was because he'd gotten them on holiday in the US when he went to Disney World in Florida and found the in some discount warehouse. The last time I seen them some homeless guy in Detroit was wearing just one of them. They still looked cool mind.

After the Air Jordans came a new development in the world of teenage trainer fascinations - the Nike Air 180s. Ostensibly intended to give you something like 'MAXIMUM comfort' comfort from the oversized air pocket built into the shoe's sole, the reality was, I think, an effective marketing gimmick for all us youngsters to pester our parents for a pair. Useless for fitba mind you:


Can you see where the air is? The clever bit was that they got see through materials to encase the air pocket, making it 180. Nice.

I never got a pair of Air 180s for the simple reason that they were ludicrously expensive and somewhat flimsy. Usually I'd save up a bunch of money from my paper round over a number of weeks and then when it came to birthday or Christmas time I'd find the best looking trainers I could that were best discounted so as to be affordable. Generally speaking I'd be looking at about £40 for a pair of trainers (that I'd put about £20 to from my savings). As a consequence I was able to acquire a pair of these bad boys:


Only, mine weren't blue, but hot pink. I remember being enthralled by the hot pink swoosh and being determined to keep them as white as I could. However, there was some concern amongst myself and friends that maybe I'd inadvertently bought myself a pair of girls shoes. Thankfully a quick flick through the Kays and Freeman's catalogues confirmed that it wasn't the case as they were in the men's section. I was more than relieved. Can you imagine the ignominy of having a pair of girls shoes as a 13 year old lad? I'd have probably had to bin them (or give them to my sister) and move schools if it ever got out. There was the ongoing concern though that some joker would stick a penknife into the exposed air bit at the back of your trainers leaving you with one deflated shoe. There were rumours that this had happened to a kid once. Thankfully it never came to pass for me. Phew.

My favourite pair of trainers that I remember were the cross country Nike Air Huaraches. Just stunning (to a 14 year old anyway). I had a pair of blue nubuck ones that for the life of me I cannot find a picture of anywhere. They were limited edition if I recall correctly though so that may be why. Again, I got them for about £40 reduced from the heady price of £79.99 when they were first out in Pro on the High St. I've NEVER had a pair of shoes/trainers/boots/slippers/footwear that has ever been as comfortable as those trainers were. I loved them dearly:


Even now, I'd probably put aside my aversion to Nike and buy a pair if I could find them in blue again. They're undoubtedly a classic of design on 90s trainers. Look at them! So comfortable.

EDIT: I just found the blue ones. I'm quite pleased about this as it confirms to me that I wasn't imagining things and definitely did not own the pair of grey and purple monstrosities above:


After the Huaraches I moved on to the less aesthetically ridiculous flat sole trainers made by Puma and adidas, not through choice I hasten to add. I had gone over my ankle one day and went up to the hospital as I couldn't walk. The doctor asked me how often this happened, which at that point was fairly often. He then told me that I had flat feet and I should throw away the trainers I was wearing as they were likely causing me the problems with my instep. By that point the Huaraches had more or less died on me and the Puma Court and Adidas Gazelles and Converse, which are far too ubiquitous for me to bother posting pictures of, became my footwear of choice. I did manage to get myself a pair of blue Adidas Trimm-Trab though:



They were aces, but a bit small for me, but blue, red and white so I didn't care. I may have been 17 at the time however...

Speaking of Converse however, my pal Slick used to have a pair of these behemoths in white and purple:


Until he lost em in a loch! We were at a birthday party at a friend's house in the country where we would get up to all sorts of fun things such as running over stacked hay bales, making rope swings, firing stones from our catapults into the fishery to make the fishermen think that Salmon were jumping and other fun stuff. At the birthday party we were having a competition to see who could run the furthest out into the bit of mud/silt where the tide had taken the fishery/loch out. Slick got the furthest, then got stuck in the mud. We couldn't get him out for love nor money. Then the tide came back in and we finally managed to jimmy him out with big sticks and a bit of rope. As pleasing for him as that was, he came out minus one of his expensive Converse boots that he'd just bought the day before. As well as being covered up to his waist in mud. To say I laughed would be putting it mildly. I thought I was going to have a coronary at the age of 13.

An honourable mention also goes to the gimmicky trainers put out by Reebok and Puma at the time. Reebok with their Pump trainers/boots:


You could inflate the tongue! Wow. I never owned a pair, I was more of a Nike man and didn't go for the gimmicks you know?

And Puma with their Disc:


Look, no laces! Hmm, again I was never convinced enough to buy a pair. Plus if the plastic broke your shoes would just fall off with no ability to be repaired easily. Poor.

So there you have it. My nephew has all this to look forward to, plus an uncle who will happily encourage him to follow his dreams and get that pair of inflatable, air-cushioned, disc-tightened, cross country, hot pink swooshed hi-tops with torsion bar for added stability in blue nubuck. I'm sure his mother will love me for it.

Who wants to make a mixtape/muxtape?

I've made a mix tape for your listening pleasure that you can stream from here or click on the link in the links section to the right. If you fancy setting one up, send me the link to it. I'm always interested to hear what other people are listening to...

I went for a wee walk.

Before I scoot off to the archives I thought I'd post you a wee link of a walk I took round Islington (apologies for the music, I like to listen to my iPod when walking, maybe it was a bit loud):



I know, you're thinking what I was thinking - how did they manage to put that pathway up? The answer? LADDERS! It's true, there's a wee shop on Hornsey Road that sells them. I couldn't believe it either! A nice wee walk though I'm sure you'll agree. I probably won't do it again though, it was a bit boring.

My busy morning.

So, it turns out when Mitch goes away I revert to my usual working hours which are staying up late and getting up early as a consequence of writing. Or, burning the candle at both ends as my dad would tell me when I was a lad staying up watching tv or reading then getting up early and doing a paper round at the age of 12. So what does this all mean? Not much, but I was up late reading and trying to write Nigerian post-colonial monetary history last night and got up early this morning to organise collecting data on Hong Kong sterling holdings from the Bank of England. Then I got a buzz at the door - I answered (don't worry this is going somewhere, honest) to be told I had a delivery! That was a nice surprise. The guy asked what floor I was on and I told him the top (it's a 4 story building so not too high) to which he replied, and I quote, 'we don't do stairs'. Pardon? 'We don't do stairs, we're not insured'. So yes, that delivery charge I paid for didn't actually include the package getting delivered to the door. I would swear but I'm trying not to be to potty mouthed in case my in-laws are reading. (For swearing I suggest go here, here (sadly departed, but still makes me laugh) and here.) They all do swearing as I probably would if I wasn't trying to keep it clean.

So anyway yes, they don't do stairs. Because they're not insured. What is this? America? A place where suddenly even delivery men are considered so potentially litigious that they no longer have to walk up stairs? Ridiculous. And before I'm (perhaps correctly) accused of indolence, this is what I ended up carting upstairs (flat-packed) and then putting together:



I'm off to the Bank of England now. At least there they'll bring the folders I want to look at to me. I wonder how long it is until archivists are considered so potentially litigious that they'll be banned from that on insurance grounds?

TV Adverts.

I was watching the end of the Liverpool vs Chelsea match when after it was done I was subjected to the following nonsense:



I can't help but think that it is a really bad attempt at subverting this:



Needless to say it fails miserably. Furthermore, what on earth possessed Samuel L Jackson to prostitute himself and hawk Virgin tv? Does he really need the money? I'm guessing not. There certainly can't be an artistic reason for doing so so I guess it down to that age old affliction of greed. I shouldn't be surprised.

Edited!

I wrote another letter to The Herald this morning which has been published. However, they've chopped it up and part of it doesn't really make sense. Let's see now shall we:

My letter:

Dear Sir,

Whilst I wholly agree with RJ Ardern's letter regarding the replacement
of the rolling stock on inter-city rail routes in Scotland, I fear
he/she is whistling into the wind with calls for increased capacity on
the single-line tracks in the Highlands. These calls have been ongoing
since 1951 when the Scottish Council (Development & Industry) produced
a report on Highland Transport Costs which called for the same thing.
The same calls were repeated in 2005 in the Smart, Successful
Highlands and Islands report as well. As yet, neither have been acted
on. The fact is, since the Second World War successive governments
have been unwilling, although not unable, to sufficiently improve
transport links in what is one of Scotland's primary tourist earners
for whatever reason.

It's an old story of course, but one that is worth telling again. If
Scotland is to move forward economically then an integrated transport
system is paramount to achieving this, not just in the Highlands, but
over the whole country. The replacement of rolling stock is only one
of many requirements for a transport infrastructure for a forward
moving dynamic economy, but an important one nonetheless. Relying on
Westminster to implement these measures has shown to be futile - we're
still waiting.


_________________________________________

The Herald's version:

While I agree with R J Ardern's letter regarding the replacement of the rolling stock on inter-city rail routes in Scotland (April 21), I fear your correspondent is whistling in the dark with calls for increased capacity on single-line tracks in the Highlands. These calls have been ongoing since 1951 when the Scottish Council Development & Industry produced a report on Highland transport costs which called for the same thing.

The same calls were repeated in 2005 in the Smart, Successful Highlands and Islands report. As yet, neither has been acted on. The fact is, since the Second World War successive governments have been unwilling sufficiently to improve transport links in what is one of Scotland's primary tourist earners.

If Scotland is to move forward economically then an integrated transport system is paramount, not just in the Highlands, but over the whole country. The replacement of rolling stock is only one of many requirements for a transport infrastructure for a forward-moving, dynamic economy. Relying on Westminster to implement these measures has shown to be futile.



_________________________________________

Whistling in the dark? That makes no sense. And of course the link for posterity here.

Tremendous Hair.

I woke up this morning looking like this:



There's a reason why I work from home mostly.

Knut.

Remember Knut the polar bear? Apparently he has been accused, upon the learning of his killing some carp - yes, a polar bear killing fish, GASP! - of having 'senselessly murdered the carp'. Frankly I'm astonished, I mean, there must be so much else for the polar bear to do within the confines of his four walls eh? Quite how the story of a polar bear killing some fish makes national news is frankly beyond me, but having the temerity to attempt to judge an animal by human standards is patently ridiculous. Do these people not engage their brains before opening their cake holes?

Orange (again).

Our phone finally got fixed, only after I'd emailed the Chief Executive of the company and the Executive Office telling them what was wrong and exactly what I thought of the company. I guess that'll teach me not to speak to the monkeys instead of the organ grinder when I want things done in future. I should have learned the lesson earlier right enough, Mitch did the same thing with BT and it worked. Go straight to the top people!

Mitch's sub-consciousness.

Readers of this blog will have noticed that I have on occasion blogged about my lovely wife's sub-consciousness through the new favourite quotes I've posted. Well, last night was a particularly fertile evening for some real gems. Poor Mitch fell asleep before me then proceeded to have some 'interesting' dreams whereby she firstly told me in a worried voice that she 'couldn't do it - it's for online travel agents' and that she 'works for GS Operations', she didn't expand on what 'it' was, but suffice to say I think she was having a work related anxiety dream; she then fell back asleep after I woke her from her bad dream and then proceeded to wail at me that she couldn't shout on me as 'they' took me away as I was drunk and stumbling at the service station. I'm guessing she wasn't on about the police, but I can't be sure. Judging by the pain in her voice (as reassuring as it was disturbing, oddly), poor Mitch was in some distress at the thought of me being carted off, drunk and stumbling, at the service station. Poor lamb. So of course, I woke her again so she wouldn't be quite so distressed. She then fell back asleep before proceeding to have YET ANOTHER bad dream! This time, just as I was nodding off she says quite audibly, 'The girl died here'. This woke me up unsurprisingly and i asked her what she said, to which she responded 'The girl, she died in this house', fully waking me up in a state of panic that Mitch and I had moved into this flat where something terrible might have happened and she hadn't told me. So I woke her up and told her what she'd said. She was a bit surprised but then realised that it was something to do with the programme Medium on TV starring Patricia Arquette. So there you have it kids, don't watch 3 hours of Medium before falling asleep or you'll have nightmares. Isn't that right Mitchy?

And I haven't even told you about the time when Amber was visiting only to hear Mitch wailing and crying from the bedroom about 'the children and animals need to be covered', whilst asleep. When I woke her up she asked me if I could go cover the cookies she'd made earlier that night as she'd forgotten. Once I'd finished laughing I did and they were delicious. Even if they were made out of children and animals...

Straw Poll.

So, a friend of mine, let's call them ABC likes somebody, let's call them XYZ, but so far hasn't done anything about it. Consequently, I feel duty bound to run a straw poll of my three readers to determine what ABC should do about XYZ.



Really simple, just let me know and whatever the answer is I'll ensure that ABC has to stick by it. Deal? They have no idea incidentally. Well, until they read this post...

Caledonia bound.

This is Mitch and I today, sans the bad hair.

New Favourite Quote #12.

"Do you consider monkeys someone?"

MItch, 13/03/08.

Needless to say I don't. Honest.

Orange.

As some of you may know, Mitch and I have been without a landline to our flat for about 5 weeks now. We have/had our phone through Orange's Livebox thing which allowed us to call the US amongst other places for next to nothing. We paid 5 quid a month (as an existing Orange customer on a PAYM tariff) for broadband and home phone with calls to all UK landlines and the US included in the deal. It all worked great until 5 weeks ago when the second line packed in altogether however. Not really a problem in of itself, but the BT line has never worked with the Livebox but works fine without it. So, now we can either have internet or the phone, but not both together. Consequently, it's a pain in the neck to have to switch the jacks around whenever I or Mitch want to make a phone call (usually to the US) and not use my mobile.

I've been calling Orange about twice weekly about the problem with absolutely no positive response from them whatsoever. They've tried fobbing me off on numerous occasions, they've told me it has been escalated at least 3 times to a higher level when it clearly hasn't and have point blank refused to send me out a new Livebox as 'it must be working fine if you can get internet on it'. Well, obviously not since I can't make a phone call when it is plugged in. Unbelievable. I'm generally very laid back and don't get angered easily, but honestly they are trying very very hard to change that. The last person I just spoke to has told me to call back tomorrow and see if anything has changed, at my expense naturally. The person I spoke to yesterday told me that they had no date in sight for when it is going to get fixed, yet they expect me to continue paying for the service as well as paying to call them to tell me it's not getting fixed and also running up a larger than normal phone bill with them on my mobile? Of course they do. I believe that is called theft/fraud in just about any other circumstance. It's been the worst customer service experience I've ever had to deal with. They're getting a strongly worded email sent to them.

Oh and it turns out I'm not the only one with a problem with them. There is a website called Orange Problems no less with many more horror stories of their abominable 'customer service'.

A photoblog of the Big Smoke.

The Hope Workers Cafe on Holloway Rd. I've never eaten there but I love the sign outside.



The view at sunset from Chez MacKenzie.



The front of Chez MacKenzie.



Stack at the Museum of Childhood in Bethnal Green.



Me at the Museum of Childhood in Bethnal Green. I had to fight that kid for the right colour bricks. And his mum.



Mitch asleep while Stack and I built our names.



Melton Square out the front of Euston Station. Believe it or not but this picture is actually in colour and not black and white.



St Paul's at dusk. I love St Paul's, but then you knew that already right?



Shepherd's Bush H&C line station.



Camera stall in Portobello Market.



The erstwhile New Piccadilly Cafe by Piccadilly Circus. A lovely old London Cafe with formica tables and excellent tea. Daniel ate 6 sugar cubes in under a minute here for a pound. Happy days.



St Paul's again. I told you I liked it.



I think this is Baker St underground station but I'm not sure - can anyone confirm? If it is then it is my favourite underground station in London.