March 29, 2004


Did anyone catch those shots of the NASA scramjet on the news this morning? Can't say I'd want to be the first guy who has to try and fly on one of those, but what a ride it would be. Absolutely incredible.

They say that 'A third X-43A could fly as early as the fall'.

Yeah, as soon as the Coyote figures out how to stop once he's caught up with the Roadrunner.

Beep Beep!

March 28, 2004

Delivery run

Quick dash across the solent today to deliver birthday presents for my niece's 1st birthday on Wednesday. Can't say what I bought, just in case she reads this and spoils the surprise.

Its so difficult to buy for babies. I spent agers walking around Toys r Us feeling like I've completely lost touch. When my sister and I were young-uns I remember a few old cotton reels and a piece of elastic would shut us up for hours. These days it's all about talking creatures with fur that has more colours than 80s fashion and names that sound like they were created by sheer fluke on a lost episode of Countdown.


"OK, your word is 'TinkyWinky' and your time starts now."

Shame I'm not going to make the party. Then again, I don't turn out for less than jelly and icecream, and despite her ever-increasing dental prowess, much of Emmas food usually involves a Cow and a Gate and still makes contact with her face at some point during consumption.

Still, continuing on the birthday theme, I've put a couple of pictures from Mum's birthday barn dance last week in the photolog. One important thing I've learned since Mum started morris dancing is that the trick of not being caught dancing at one of these gigs is to always be the one holding the camera.

March 25, 2004

Facing the music

Call it a scented bath of aural artistic goodness or a good excuse to go to the pub, but there really is nothing like live music. It was something that I'd forgotten for a couple of years, until an excellent Zero 7 gig last week reminded me that those little silver discs that sing to me on the train are only good because some very, very talented people teach them to be that way.

I stand now resolved to find out what I've been missing about some of my favourite artists. I've already scoped out a number of gigs over the next few months and will shall be conscripting inviting friends to accompany me.

Tonight it's The Hamsters. Last time they were in town was before Christmas, just after I bought my guitar. I went on the advice of the guy who helped my buy it, and was blown away by the sound and how cool they made it look. I left the gig inspired, with that electric air guitar buzz in my arms and feeling like maybe I could play already, even though I didn't actually know how to yet.

Really looking forward to this...

March 15, 2004

How big a mug...?

When buying coffee in a restaurant, the quantity you get is usually a reflection of its flavour. Espresso is strong and comes in a thimble, while a creamy latte comes in either a mug or a big beastie cup and saucer that makes you feel like a dwarf.

Buying instant coffee on the other hand is a matter of economics. The more you buy, the cheaper it gets. As a student there was usually one of those catering sized drums in the corner to fuel my pre 10am caffeine dependency. These were handy as when they were finished, they served quite well as cake tins or footstools.

Yesterday as I was visiting the recycle centre I noticed that over the last few months, the coffee jars I've been using have been getting progressively smaller. I couldn't understand why. When you drink as much coffee as I do, you have to think about the numbers.

The reason became apparent five minutes ago as I was waiting for the kettle to boil, staring at the gold wrapper on the top of a fresh jar. It's that destructive pleasure of piercing the foil seal for the first time. That fleeting feeling of satisfaction that you can only have once for every jar of coffee you buy. The smaller the jar, the more often you get to do it.

Sad really. I'll have to make up a better excuse for this stupid habit now. Freshness. That's it. It's because like freshness.

But Dave, it's instant...


March 09, 2004

Bad sign?

A black cat crossed my path this morning. It had three legs.

I'm about to have a bad day, aren't I?

March 08, 2004

Irrational Sunday

Picture, if you will, a corridor. Every hundred yards or so there is a corner, and beyond each corner is a window letting in enough light shine around to allude to an ending just beyond the apex. But the end never comes. There are no furnishings, no doors, no art, and the walls are painted in that lovely institutional shade of pastel vomit.

Now walk down it for a couple of weeks. That's pretty much how interesting life has been around here. I thought I'd spare you the details.

The high point of the past fortnight was having a cold at the same time as a nosebleed. The scene that resulted every time I sneezed unexpectedly could only otherwise be produced by having my face explode from staring at a monitor too long. Mmmmm, chunky...

Anyway, we interrupt this frightening monotony to bring you...Sunday.

Most Sundays can be summarised as an exercise in rational mathematics: an assorted subset of activities and events taken from a master list of 'stuff that can happen on a Sunday'. Your average Sunday may include things like 'Hangover', 'Church', 'Call Parents', 'Roast Dinner', 'Play Football' and so on (although most of the time I find 'Hangover' and all other activities are mutually exclusive).

Nothing unusual happens on a Sunday. That's the rules. Anomalous needs a day off like everything else. Well, except this week.

This weeks Sunday included such unusual encounters as
- Raining in ASDA. In ASDA (Aisle 5).
- Skateboarder wearing Sandals. And white socks.
- Woman with no belly button.
- Car that sounded involuntary, unceremonious horn every twenty metres or so.

Each in themselves wouldn't be particularly noteworthy, but to have them all in one day is a little unsettling. I'll put it down to nature catching up for three weeks of sickly beige corridor.