A former colleague of mine has put together a blog of his move to Australia, which got me thinking what a wonderful way to record your thoughts and emotions as they happen. So here it is, my blog for impending fatherhood.
Plus some miscellaneous stuff and the odd rant.
I often find myself amazed by what people dream up as the next big thing. I remember when the Segway PT was first being touted by its inventor Dean Kamen, and I'd read about his giving it the codeword "Ginger" ... looking at the first pictures I ever saw of one, I was astounded at its brilliance - that was until I saw one shooting up and down a boulevard in Paris, not far from the Shakespeare & Co bookshop. People were ooh-ing and ahh-ing at it, but I quickly realised that it looked like a stupid and dangerous invention, almost as loopy as the Sinclair C5.
But today I saw an invention on another blog that really got me thinking. It's called the Tweel, the name apparently being a portmanteau of tyre and wheel. It's basically an experimental tyre developed by Michelin that doesn't use air so can't either burst or become flat. Apparently, though, it's very noisy over 50mph, so it's got to be developed further I guess. I've often worried about having a tyre burst on me on the motorway, so I'll have to keep my eye on this one.
I wanted to see what my language would look like if I translated it in a program from English to Japanese, then back again ... below is the result, using this very same sentence!
(I also tried Traditional Chinese, which when read sounds disturbingly similar to Stanley Unwin).
[Japanese] I to see tried, when it translated that of the program from Japanese from English, had decided in those where my language is visible, for the second time very next back section ... The result using this, is the same sentence!
[Traditional Chinese] I decided attempts and will look any my language will look resembles, if I have translated it at a program from English to Traditional Chinese, then behind again ... Following result, uses this extremely similar sentence!
I called the RSPCA centre in Stretton about the baby blackbird, and they were quite helpful in that they asked all the right questions ... i.e. Are the parents still feeding it? (don't know), Is it able to fly? (err, no, because it'd have flown off already), Can you feed it? (yeah right, what with, lamb vindaloo and peshwari naan?) ...
I agreed to monitor it for the next couple of hours until about quarter past three, after which time I'll take it to the centre for them to look after it or - worst case scenario - put it to sleep.
So anyway, I'm busy working downstairs when I come up with this idea of setting my own laptop up with my webcam out of the back window onto the flat bathroom roof (where the blackbird is, in a box) and I can watch through MSN Messenger from downstairs to see if the parents come back to feed it. So far ... zilch.
Well they're done, the very first scans of the baby ... and I tell you what, what an experience it was for me to sit there and see on the screen this tiny little living thing moving around and changing sides (obviously annoyed, trying to get comfy with that bloody nurse poking around and trying to get a good shot of him / her). It was all so unreal at first, like "Is that really ours?" I was in absolute awe of the whole experience ...
Then Becky had the blood test done, and was so scared of that big needle. I wanted to crack the old joke of "You might feel a little prick ..." but kept my mouth shut.
We then had a tour of the Maternity Ward at the hospital. Well, I say Maternity Ward, it was more like a comfy, modern home, very tastefully decorated (including a mural painted by a Spanish artist), with dining room, kitchen, luxurious beds and armchairs, massive flat screen TVs, stereos, jacuzzis (yeah, jacuzzis), lots of very friendly and chatty midwives. Becky was beaming all the way 'round the place, so was I. One room did look like it was straight out of Big Brother, which unnerved me a bit. But apart from that, even I'd be happy living there!
As for the baby blackbird, it fell off the birdtable, so I put it on the flat roof of our bathroom, which it jumped off ... so now I've put it in a box with sides too steep for it to jump out of, where its parents can get in to feed it and it can build up some strength until I take it to the RSPCA centre in Stretton (which, surprise surprise, was closed yesterday). Alfie stayed in all day yesterday, and my word was he annoyed!
Well today at 11:30 is our first scan at the Samuel Johnson Community Hospital in Lichfield. Becky's just left for work, and I'll be over to collect her at her office in Tutbury in a couple of hours or so. Not sure what to expect from this first scan. I remember looking at the first scan of our friends Simon and Helen's child back in mid-March, so I've got sort of an idea about what's coming. Becky's worried about the blood tests as she bruises so easily, and last blood test she had a couple of years ago at the Burton Queen's Medical Centre, the student nurse taking the blood was so busy chatting she made a real hash of sticking the needle in and Becky was poorly for a couple of days. I shall be posting the first scan photos on my Flickr pages later today ...
Anyway, nice stuff aside ... last night we were trying to get our cat Alfie in at about 23h00, and there was NO sign of him at all (he's lost his collar at the moment, too, so we can't hear his bell ... he's in the feline version of stealth mode). So we called and called, and heard a sudden, high-pitched squawking - which is unusual as birds aren't usually around at that time of night. So this morning, Becky calls him again ... nothing. Eventually he saunters in like some (self-perceived) hard case, has his breakfast and suddenly wants out again. Just before I let him go, I notice a male and female blackbird going bonkers across the courtyard out back ... and then I spot huddled in a corner a baby blackbird with feathers ripped out of its back, but still being fed by its parents (good sign, they haven't abandoned it). So I keep Alfie in (his night patrol having caught up with him, he's now fast asleep), and get my big gardening gloves on and go to pick the blackbird up to put it atop the high, covered birdtable. Broke my heart, as I reached down, as it held its beak open to me to be fed ... I so so gently lifted it up onto the birdtable and quickly moved away so the parents would be happy I wasn't there.
As I sit here now, I'm looking at the bird table outside, and the mother blackbird keeps coming back to feed the baby. I'm hoping it won't be so daft as to jump off the birdtable. Alfie won't be going out until I'm sure it's gone, even if he goes mad to go out, he'll bloody well stay in.
I just hope everything works out for that baby bird, in just the same way I hope everything works out for our baby.
At the start of May I asked for my work expenses to be paid into an account other than my current account, therefore my work expenses bypass my day-to-day home and life incomings and outgoings. Simple, right?
Wrong.
First of all - and I admit my mistae - I miskeyed the expense account bank sort code number, and only when I spotted no expenses being paid was I told that I'd miskeyed it by payroll. So I correct the number, and all is fine now, right?
Wrong again.
Somebody decided that by "expenses" I meant "salary AND expenses" and so I haven't been paid this month. I've had to do some pretty quick talking with my bank to shore me up whilst my mortgage payment goes out today.
I was promised a telegraphic transfer / CHAPS yesterday (before close of business) - but that still hasn't arrived. I guess I'll just have to wait!
What a SHOCKING day I had yesterday ... problems on the M40 (apparently blue light services were turning cars around just shy of the M25 and sending them back to the previous junction) meant I plumped for the M1, which was no better through the widening between junctions 10 to 6.
I eventually arrived in London early evening, and after parking my car at our Sampson House office I dropped my bags off at the hotel on Southwark Street and went straight over the road to The Tall House, which is a great little Chinese restaurant opposite. Last time I was in there, I'd just been up to Leadenhall Market with an old colleague of mine and had had about six pints of Old Speckled Hen. Three colleagues were talking around me, and I wasn't even capable of a grunt. I must have seemed such a complete drunk - something I hate is out-and-out drunkenness.
Anyway, I was in The Tall House having a bottle of Tsing Tao beer (which the perennially complaisant Chinese waiter always announces, as he places it carefully on the table, as "Cheeng Chow ... Cheeeeeeeeeeng Chowwwwwww" as if he needs to repeat it. So I'm sitting there and I realise the music is out of place. In an Indian restaurant you always get Indian music, either some bearded guy playing a sitar or a George Harrison song (which I suppose is also a bearded guy playing a sitar). But this music was oddly out of place ... what was it? I sat pondering ... of course - Glenn Miller!! What a coincidence after yesterday!
As I sat chewing some really tough fried chilli beef, two guys who'd been sat outside came in, saying "It's raining out there" (it wasn't, it was sunny ... don't ask) and proceeded to say to the Chinese girl in the bar (with her child in a carry-cot) "Your baby's got a funny haircut". The bloke saying it had a comb-over, so he could hardly comment. Poor girl just looked hurt ... and the baby started crying.
After eating I had a walk around the Tate Modern (outside, of course, the place was shit ... typing error, I mean shut ... no, actually, I'll stick with the first one) and along the embankment to take some photos of St Paul's and The City. London's got the best and worst of everything (I drove through most of the worst on the outskirts today), and it's funny to think it's where my family originates. To say my dad was born in Battersea you'd never know. given his strong Midlands accent.
Yesterday was such a beautiful, sunny, June day that it's hard looking out of the window this morning to understand how the weather can suddenly become so inutteraby dull. I've got to travel down to London today, so I'm leaving it until about lunchtime to avoid traffic hell on the M42, M40 and M25 motorways. Actually, I have to go into Guildford in Surrey first, then I'll head into London from the south. Whatever, I'm not looking forward to it, I'd much prefer to be working from home.
1940s at the Bass Museum
We went to the Coors Visitor Centre yesterday (or for the purists, the Bass Museum as it was once known) to visit a 1940s day that they'd put on. It was quite marvellous, all people dressed up in 40s gear, "soldiers" walking around, armoured vehicles and old cars everywhere, Glenn Miller music playing everywhere, it was quite marvellous! I'm not the biggest fan of 1940s style, but I have to admit they put on a good show and the place was certainly packed.
Rant Par Excéllence
We'd parked over the road from the museum, in one of the Burton's many "pay on exit" carparks. So I go to the paystation, put in a brand new £10 note to pay the £2.50 fee, and end up having the note spat back out. I try 5 or 6 times, but it won't accept it! So I went into the cinema foyer right next door, change the tenner for a fiver and five £1 coins, get back to the paystation machine, and NOW it asks for £5 for the ticket ... b***ards!! What can I do? I have to pay.
On the exit I spoke to the parking attendant - who, just add insult to injury, was some geeky-looking Polish bloke with next to no English language skills. He was disinterested, as he couldn't understand me ... this REALLY riled me, and caused me to start shouting at him. He eventually, not to mention begrudgingly (how dare I make him work for a living, this would never happen in Warszawa), wrote down the complaints number, and I'm going to shout at the carpark junta fascisti today. Watch this space ...
I watched an incredible one-off documentary last night on the Beatle's greatest album, and the most successful UK album ever produced - Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Because it's the 40th anniversary of its release this year, a number of current groups (The Fray, Kaiser Chiefs, The Magic Numbers, Travis, etc.) went into Abbey Road Studios to record the album again using the same technology and methods that the Beatles used. It was fascinating to see them all struggle with the 4-track method, having no digital gadgets to help them or cover their tracks. It was quite a documentary ... the Kaiser Chiefs' drummer seemed so obsessed with the Beatles that he even knew how Ringo Starr was playing as he sat at his drumkit recording Sgt Pepper - right down to the tea-towels he had over the drums to control their resonance! Brilliant brilliant viewing ... is this album going to be released, I ask?
Now I'm no real fan of these talent-hunting TV shows, like The X Factor, Pop Idol, Grease Is The Word or last year's f***ing horrible How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?, principally because they're shite. However, I do have to say that I've caught on to this year's Any Dream Will Do, about the search for a Joseph (& The Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat). I never thought I'd let myself sink so low into Saturday evening telly, but this show has been gripping. I am a big fan of Andrew Lloyd-Webber (not such a big fan of his facial features, however ... ooh bitchy!) and so I like watching it for his feedback and criticisms (which almost invariably begin with the word "Look ......."
Becky and I are rooting for this guy called Lee to win the competition, because he seems to be the only one at the moment with all-round talent. Don't get me wrong, the others are good, it's just that Lee seems to have that professional edge on them. Here's a clip of his audition ... good lad!
Becky told me - somewhat gleefully - yesterday that it's our cat Alfie's 2nd birthday today, and she even told him this morning that I'd be wishing him a happy birthday. He's a cat!! Oh well, I suppose this is a sort of happy birthday ...
He's currently flaked out in the back yard, enjoying this glorious June morning sunshine we're having ...
I often find myself amazed by what people dream up as the next big thing. I remember when the Segway PT was first being touted by its inventor Dean Kamen, and I'd read about his giving it the codeword "Ginger" ... looking at the first pictures I ever saw of one, I was astounded at its brilliance - that was until I saw one shooting up and down a boulevard in Paris, not far from the Shakespeare & Co bookshop. People were ooh-ing and ahh-ing at it, but I quickly realised that it looked like a stupid and dangerous invention, almost as loopy as the Sinclair C5.
