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...