Old Friends Who Aren't Old

Met up with an old friend today. She went out to Canada some time ago and came back to Hull to wallow in nostalgia and stamp around some of her old stamping grounds. Always nice to see people who haven't changed a bit, even over all these years. And she was nice enough to say that I haven't changed a bit either (although this did make me wonder about her eyesight..) She brought her family with her and we all got along famously, with a good time being had by all.

Film Culture Decoded

Here it is, the "Crazy World" movie description decoder. Just use this handy guide to make sense of any film description.

moving: somebody dies at the end
uplifting: somebody dies half way through
moody: depressing
unforgettable: depressing
intense: hard to understand/depressing
complex: incomprehensible
study: no story
amazing special effects: no story
thought provoking: no proper ending
hilarious: enough jokes to fill the 30 second trailer
action packed: enough explosions to fill the 30 second trailer
must see: my accountant says you must see it

Just replace their words with mine, for an accurate assessment of any film.

Open Day Saturday

After twenty minutes in the shower getting my hair back to its usual colour last night, it was back into the admissions open day routine today. I do the warm up talk and a bunch of other staff members turn up at the end to help me answer questions that people ask about the department and university life.

You'd probably expect me to say this, but I'm going to say it anyway. I really like working with these people. We had some tough questions today, and the thing that impressed me the most was the way that we all have a similar perspective on the really important aspects of computing. We will discuss the merits of this and that from an academic point of view, but on the fundamentals of what we are doing and why we are doing it we are as one and unshakeable. You know who you are folks, and I'm not sure whether or not you read this blog or not, but kudus and well done if you do (and slightly less kudos and a little bit of shame on you if you don't).

Redheads Have More Fun

Well, it's over now. Lots of hilarity and over five hundred pounds raised. The lecture in rhyme by me is now just about an institution. Which makes sense if you think about it. Everything was going well until my good friend Paul got in on the act with his offer of a large sum of money to have my hair painted red. No problem, I thought, I have no paint. He did. And the money. And so he empted an entire canister or hair dye (or was it car paint) onto my bonce. So, for the rest of the lecture, indeed day, I was sporting a very dodgy red headed paint job. I had another (proper) lecture to give and I also had to nip out and do some shopping. At least I got served faster. But I'm not sure whether it was out of pity or fear.

But is it art?

I am not a great poet (unless it is spelt grate). But I try. Many years ago I got slightly tipsy at a staff party and offered the boss a lecture entirely in rhyme, in aid of a good cause. I spent ages writing the stuff (poetry is hard you know) and then delivered it to a hushed and amazed audience in aid of the Comic Relief charity. That was nearly twenty years ago (shudder) and I'm still doing them.

Tomorrow is another one, and as is usual in these cases, I've not got round to writing the material yet. Actually, for this one I'm reusing some material from the previous one two years ago. My conscience is clear on this one, most of the students who saw the first one will have moved on, and I have changed the colour of the powerpoint slides. And it is in a good cause.

I'm not sure if you have to have an artistic bent (as it were) to write stuff like poetry, but as an engineering type I find it rather tricky. Do great artists find that the deathless prose just pours from them onto the page, or do they have to hammer every line out by hand like me. Would I be more an artist if it came easier to me, or if I had to suffer even more to get the words out. Actually, I'm going to leave profound stuff like this to the real artists, while I look for a rhyme for "Web Services Description Language".

Inky Fingers and Weak Wills

How do ink jet cartridges know to run out when you need them the most? Mine expired just at the end of printing out an otherwise perfect print on the most expensive paper. Never mind, I thought, I've got a spare cartridge. I got it out of its air tight bag, dropped it into the printer and it fell out onto the floor. Wrong sized cartridge for wrong printer. So now I have an opened cartridge for the other printer and a worrying feeling that the right cartridge is somewhere else in my room. And I can't print my picture. Dang.

So at lunch time I went out to get a new printer cartridge. I hate buying them because they are expensive and don't last as long as I would like (i.e. forever). So in the end I didn't buy one. I bought a camcorder instead. Well, I had to. It was the last one in the shop, specially reduced, and I've just got paid a little extra cash for some stuff that I wrote yonks ago. I've been thinking about getting a tiny little camcorder for the holls and they had one which looked perfect at a scarily good price. And I am very weak. And I like my toys. It is very nice. It does everything except make the tea. I'll buy the printer cartridge tomorrow. Maybe.

I am not a mean person

I have been taken to task as being a rather mean driver. Apparently I don't "let people in" as much as I should. These are folks who are so misguided as to live in silly little roads which are connected to the proper thoroughfares that I drive along to work. They sit at junctions in cars which are posher and newer than mine and expect me to stop and let them pull out.

I of course totally reject this allegation. I am a generous and open hearted person who will give you the time of day at any time of day, or indeed night. I spend ages agonising on how I may best serve my fellow human. I see myself as considering not just the driver being let out but the people who are in the traffic behind me, to whom I feel I also owe a duty in this respect. After all, letting someone in in front of me (note the "in front" part of this) means that I am also, by implication, delaying those behind. Who am I to slow all of them down, just so that some shiny BMW driver can complete some no doubt pointless journey from their big house?

Of course, this discussion would not have taken place if I had not failed to recognise the car of number one wife waiting to pull out of the filling station on the way home this evening....

Red Nose Day Madness

I'm doing it again. I've no idea why. Every two years I do this and swear it will be the last one. Especially after last time when they painted my hair red. It took ages to get the dye out. Our bathroom looked like it had just hosted a spectacularly gruesome murder.

But it is for charity (but then again, so is "Comic Relief Fame Academy" - arrgh). Oh well. If you really (and I mean really) have nothing better to do on the 11th of March. And you happen to be passing the Robert Blackburn Building on the University of Hull campus at lunchtime. And you want to learn about Microsoft .NET, Cheese, Smartphones and rapping. Then it just, just, might be worth dropping in. You can find out more and get a free poster here.

Free Food?

Took number one wife out for a meal today. We ended up at a place which does "two meals for the price of one" (I only go to the classiest joints). They implemented this rather cleverly by simply doubling the price of a single meal. And of course there were three of us.

I really should have ordered a fourth meal. I'm not sure if I would have been capable of eating it but it would have been worth a try. I thought about offering it to the person stood behind me in the queue, but this would have only complicated things. In the end we just had the three meals and left it at that. But next time I go there it will be in an even numbered party.....

BCS Competition

Today we hosted the Northern heats of the BCS programming competition in our big shiny lab. There were 12 teams of programmers fighting to beat the clock and complete as many of the problems as they could in the time allowed. With only one computer per team. Great fun. I was judging. Apparently we had more completed programs in Hull than anywhere else in the country. Which sounds good to me.

The competition in full flow

The Little Brown Ikea Pencil of Doom: Part 5

Lars Swedishname paced his hotel room nervously. For the thousandth time he cursed the twists of fate that had brought him to this nondescript town in a foreign country, searching out the ultimate in home furnishing evil. Then he cursed again. �A thousand and one� he thought as he sat down on the bed. He looked at the desk in the corner. On it was a silver bullet, a flask of holy water, a wooden stake, a crucifix and an electric pencil sharpener. There was a knock at the door. He stood up and walked over to see who it was.
�Who are you?� he asked, peering through the peep hole into the corridor outside his room. A unformed policeman stood with his head down. He appeared to be writing something in his notebook. Lars shuddered.
�Police Constable Wilkins, MadeupTown police� said the officer. �I�ve got some more questions about this theory of yours�.
Lars�s hands trembled as he removed the chain and slowly turned the handle. Then the door flew open and the policeman burst into the room.
�Lars Swedishname� said the Constable Wilkins, reading from his notebook. �I must kill you and then go and buy a Babord shoe rack�
Lars backed away from him, towards the desk. �Why the Babord� he asked nervously �The Skoomp is much larger and better finished. And it only costs an extra five pounds�.
The policeman looked down at his notes.
�No� he said, �It must be the Babord, it is pine finish and will better match the Bango telephone table. And now you must die�
Lars looked up at the policeman, staring at the little brown pencil behind the constable�s left ear. He would only have one chance to make his move and it must be�. now! He lunged forward towards the policeman, grabbing with outstretched hand for the pencil. His fingers plucked it from behind the constable�s ear, and with a deft movement he swung round and plunged the pencil into the electric pencil sharpener. The sharpener sprang to life, and then, as abruptly, stopped. �Curse these foreign mains adapters�, thought Lars, as the policeman moved closer towards him....
(to be continued)

Admit One

We had another admissions afternoon today. Lots of people. I like a big audience. Although of course this can mean more to fight off if things don't go well. Anyway, they seemed to enjoy the afternoon and were even polite enough to laugh at my jokes. A couple of people had been to one of my talks before. I hope you weren't too upset that I used some of the same material as last time. It is just that stuff of this quality is rather hard to come by. Oh yes.

Serious Advice from the Crazy World

I've been using this chip and pin thing for a while now to buy stuff. It seems to work fine. But I don't like tapping out my ultra secret number on the keypad for all to see. I know that they have a little plastic guard thingy, but I know about long lenses and tiny cameras.

So here is my tip to keep you PIN secret. Rather than tap the number out with one finger; lay your fingers over the numbers as you would piano keys. Then press each one with a different finger. I reckon it is virtually impossible for someone who is watching to see the much smaller movements that you make now. You might get an odd look from the cashier (mind you, I'm used to odd looks) but there is a much smaller chance of your number being stolen.

Run Out Of Words

I've spent just about all day writing notes for the First Year C# course. And now, I'm all out of words. The only ones I've got left are contraband and piffle and and.

White Chocolate is not Chocolate

I've given up chocolate for lent again. I did this a couple of years ago and I'd just about forgotten the torment I went through. So I've done it again.

Fortunately white chocolate (which I am extremely partial to) is not actually chocolate. The chain of reasoning that leads me to this happy conclusion works like this:

White Elephant stalls do not sell elephants. Therefore White Chocolate cannot actually be chocolate.

People have argued with this. They have made the point, forcefully and with passion, that one of the ingredients of white chocolate is "cocoa butter", an ingredient which is also present in real (i.e. non-white) chocolate. I am unmoved by this. Does it mean that butter contains chocolate as well? Of course not. So, let's hear it for the Milky Bar Kid folks.....

Bang I'm Dead

Went to Laserquest today. Me and a buch of finely honed killing machines with hair triggered reflexes and eyes in the back of their heads. It is a neat setup. You get a gun and a backpack and stalk around a maze of ramps and hiding places in the half darkness trying to shoot people with a bright red LED gun. Because they put a bit of smoke in the air you can see the rays from your gun in a most satisfactory manner. If you get hit a counter goes up by one and your gun stops working for five seconds. I got that a lot. I think I make a very good target. At least that is what everyone else said.

The first half was individual. I was nearly last. The second half was team. My team did not win. Probably because of my sitting duck antics. Never mind. It was great fun. You get a printout of who shot who right at the end. They were all going "I shot Rob 8 times". "That's nothing, I got him at least ten". Ho hum. But it was fun.

Madness I Say

We went up town today. In the carpark there was a sign which said "Lost Tickets Five Pounds".

That's mad.

Who wants to buy a lost ticket? I can imagine the dialogue:

Customer: "I'd like to buy a lost ticket"
attendant : "That will be five pounds please"
Customer: "There you are"
Attendant: "Thanks"
Customer: "Can I have it now please"
Attendant: "Sorry. I can't seem to find it"
Customer: "Of course you can't"

Madness I say. Madness.

Secure Transactions

Got a new bank card today. It is one of these new fangled ones where I have to remember a number so that I can buy things.

I'm really waiting for the next generation, where the identification behaviour has to be more specific to the individual. For mine I'd have to tell a really bad joke involving a play on words to draw any money out. I'd call it "Chip and pun".

The Little Brown Ikea Pencil of Doom: Part 4

Lars Swedishname was obviously a man with a mission. The inspector half listened to his tale of gypsy curse, abandoned pet cemetery, lost Indian tribe and Stockholm office supplies company. This was all very well, but how did it explain the four mysterious deaths in MadeupTown? Constable Wilkins on the other hand seemed to find the story fascinating. Standing behind Lars he had his notebook out and was making copious notes. His little brown pencil (was that regulation issue? the inspector wondered) was flying over the paper as he seemed to be writing everything down.

"Well sir" said the inspector, rising to his feet. "Thank-you for your information, you can be sure that we will act appropriately"

"No." the little man seemed even more agitated. "You don't understand. You've got to do something now, before there are any more deaths".

"That's OK sir, we'll do our best" the inspector continued. "Where can we find you if we need any further help?"

"The Regal Hotel" Lars replied. "It is the only one in town with no Swedish furniture".

"Well, thank you for your help sir". The inspector walked round the desk to shake hands with the visitor. As he passed Constable Wilkins the inspector caught a glimpse of what the officer had been writing in his notebook. 'Kill Lars, kill Lars, kill Lars. Kill Lars. And then go and buy a Babord shoe rack (15.95)'
(to be continued)

Snow Drivin'

Went down the motorway to Nottingham today. They have a road called "Maid Marion Way". But no "Sheriff Street" that I could find. Nottingham is nice. They have a shopping centre called "Victoria Shopping Centre". It is now an old friend, because we went past it four times as we tried to escape from the middle of the town.

The driving was enlivened by a couple of snowstorms. I love the way that the snowflakes dive towards the windscreen only to try and peel off at the last moment before they hit the car. I wonder how they know to do that?