Rolling Roadblocks

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Drove down the motorway to visit family today. Don't you just love lorries? Particularly the way that, on two lane motorways, you get one going at 50 mph and another going at 50.00000001 mph which pulls out to overtake. This means that you get to stare at a "Well Driven? Dial 0800 12341234 to let us know" notice on the back of the rolling roadblock as it sits in your way for 15 miles.

I wonder if anyone dares to dial that number? I think if you do a little red light comes on in the cab of the lorry in front of you, the driver looks into the rear view mirror, sees you talking on the phone and then taps the brake and twitches the steering wheel slightly to smear you and your car over around 800 yards of crash barrier...

Happy Birthday Geoff, and here's to Useless Objects

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Geoff came round tonight to collect his birthday present. I got him something which contains a large number of brightly coloured plastic parts and is completely useless. I have a strong policy where Geoff is concerned of supplying only completely useless birthday presents. I mean, socks are useful, enough said.

I'm a bit concerned to find that The Gadget Shop, a local purveyor of useless artifacts, is having financial worries at the moment. But then, I suppose there is always the internet. I think helping to locate useless stuff was one of its design aims.

Galactic Conspiracy

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I've been thinking more about my microwave clock. I don't think that it is really broken. I think it has been infected with an evil computer virus from the Cylons as part of their ongoing mission to destroy all mankind by burning our porridge and causing our baked potatoes to explode. On the other hand, I might have been watching too much of the new Battlestar Galactica...

Actually, you should all give it a look - the production values, acting and storyline are all very good. Number one son put me on to it and we have just enjoyed watching the feature length introduction. A new boxed set beckons.

Not At All Suited

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My new suit is turning into a soap opera. Having been carefully measured by an expert we went in a month back for a fitting and thought we'd been given the wrong one. It was probably made to measure, it was just not using my measurements. If I was the shape the suit was constructed for I'd be even more deformed than I realy am. We sent it back to have things done and now it has returned. Close but no cigar. The idea of wearing a suit is to impart gravitas and prescence. Not look like you are wearing somebody else's clothes.

The man who knows about these things is not around today. So we will have to sort it out next week. Joy.

Chocolate Day Minus Two

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Two more days and I can eat chocolate again. I gave it up for Lent and, except for a lapse in Waitrose yesterday, (they were giving away free samples and my instinct for something for nothing took over before I remembered) I have done pretty well. I've a little pile of chocolatey commestibles which I'm looking forward to eating when the time comes.

I hope I haven't gone off the stuff.

Jolly Hols

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Started my easter holiday a bit early. Spent the time fiddling around with this and that, and doing the shopping. I look forward to a break but when it comes I wander around wondering what to do. Of course I'm not short of distractions. And I could do some gardening (but where's the fun in that). In the end I did some reading and tidied up a bit. I managed to be discovered using the vacum when number one wife came in from work, which is a good move.

Robots Rocks

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Great little film Robots. Non of the mass produced knowingness of Shrek. Instead there was just a nice film with some lovely touches, a heart in the right place and some splendid set pieces. Number one son was quite sniffy about it, saying that some bits looked a bit like "tech demos" and that it has all been done before anyway. I don't care. I left the cinema smiling and wanting to go back round agan.

And that is all I really want from a film.

Live For Ever

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At a Preston Foster meeting tonight the conversation turned to living for ever. Pete said he had read that the person who will live to be a thousand has already been born. What, with the advances in medical technology which are "just around the corner", there is a good chance that the current generation could live for ever. Just my luck to miss out on eternal live by 40 years or so.

But then again, I'm not sure about living for ever if it means spending my time sitting in darkened room alternately blowing raspberries and droolin (actually, I may have started early on this one..). And I'm fairly sure that my pension would have an escape clause after the first couple of hundred years or so.

The Little Brown Ikea Pencil of Doom: Part 6

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Lars Swedishname knew he was going to die. He also knew who was going to kill him. The man moving towards him, a once proud member of the MadeupTown police force now driven mad by a demon of home furnishing was closing in for the kill. Lars thought back over his past, the happy days spent at the Swedish Furniture academy. The adulation given to his now seminal research paper "101 More things to do with sawdust". Such happy times.

And then he remembered how it all went wrong. The gypsy curse, the meeting at the abandoned cemetery near that old house with the strange Indian from Area 51. The marketing men with their ideas about customer motivation. And the first test subject.

Behind him, the architect of his downfall glowed slightly as it rested in the one device that could have saved humanity. The Blessed Electric Pencil Sharpener of Salvation, denied of power because of a faulty cable, was useless to him now.

"That's enough background plot reminiscing" snarled constable Wilkins raising his baton. "Now you die and then I buy a new shoe rack"

Suddenly the window burst open. The inspector flew across the room and crashed into policeman. Things happened in a mad blur. Within seconds constable Wilkins lay handcuffed on the ground. Then the inspector reached into his raincoat pocket and produced a Swedish-UK mains adapter. "I think you'll find a use for this" he said coolly.

In a trice the cable was reconnected. The three men watched transfixed as the sharpener whirred into action. Within seconds the pencil was reduced to dust, producing an unearthly shriek as it was ground into oblivion. In the silence, Lars found his voice.

"Now, I must eat the sawdust" he husked.

"Why, does that finally end the curse?" asked the inspector.

"No", said Lars, "I just like the taste."

The inspector shook his head. But it seemed that things were now resolved satisfactorily. Quite simple really. Thank heavens that he had followed his instincts, contacted Lars again and learned more of the threat. Buying the adapter and getting to the hotel had been easy enough. Although it would have been better if he had not burst into those other three rooms before finding the right one. With a bit of luck nobody will sue, he thought to himself.

On the floor constable Wilkins seemed to be returning to his old self. The evil glow had gone out of his eyes and he was looking nervously up at the inspector.

"Sir", he said, "I don�t know what happened. One moment I was at a crime scene and the next I'm doing all kinds of weird stuff. I don't even like pine that much. I'm more of a chintz person."

The inspector smiled, "Don�t worry son" he said. "None of this needs to be on the record. And who would believe us anyway".

Apples To Apples

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Had a really nice Sunday with the whole family. Proper British Roast Beef and then a game of Apples to Apples. This is a wonderful card game which allows you to be totally daft or extremely devious depending on how you feel. It is also great in that nobody knows what you did unless you win that round. Very sociable, very funny and you should get a copy now. The more people who play the better the game is. And it kind of encourages you to think.

Still not got a copy? You can find our more here. And no, I'm not on commision.

Man of a hundred spoons

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As regular readers (do I have any? he wondered) know, every day I have a yoghurt in my office. I used to take spoons from the kitchen, but after a month of this we had no spoons in the kitchen and a pile of them in my office. Not good. So I joined the disposable society and bought a pack of plastic spoons to keep in the office and work my way through. My father in law does bulk buying stuff and offered to get me some more. I was then presented with 100 spoons in quite a large bag.

I've never had so many spoons. They half fill a desk draw. And the funny thing is, I'm afraid to use one. Because then I would only be the man of 99 spoons...

Update: I've just found another cache of spoons in my desk draw. I am now "the man of one hundred and seventeen spoons". May you all tremble before me.

Recreational Coding

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I'm writing programs for fun again. It is sad and scary, but I think I'd rather write software than play computer games. Some time back I wrote some code that was a computer game. That was heaven. But now I'm fiddling with something else and really enjoying the experience of whacking lines of C# down and making them do stuff.

I used to think that this made me rather sad. I've now decided that it is OK for me to do this, as long as I don't bother other people by going on about it too much.