Friday, 30 August 2013

Pub O'clock

Friday. August 30th. 23:09

Pub o'clock.

These post work drinking sessions are becoming a habit.

Need something as an antidote to the shite of the working week.

in the end, pretty much on the spur of the moment ended up going to the pub after work (finishing at 4) with two good friends from work.

One leaving the drinking session earlier. The other, well, she and I stayed on until the bitter end. (no we weren't drinking bitter).

Me ? Well, after perhaps five or six double vodkas I'm not to far from sober. In fact, pacing it out over the evening I think I've not done too bad.

While your very, very good friend pours her heart out about how much she isn't strong, and doesn't want to be hurt any more, and doesn't feel that she will be happy, or that she can do better than the shit of a boyfriend that she has at the moment. What can you do, but hold her, comfort her, tell her how amazing she is, (even though she's not able to hear it) and that she has many people around her that do care a great deal about her, and do want to make sure she's okay, and do not think that she should be with someone that treats her like that.

Yeah. How do you deal with that ?

How do you tell someone that can't see that they are the most amazing, interesting, beautiful person you have met in years, and that they don't need to put up with this shit. How do you tell them that they have your heart, if only they would stop and see it.

How about that ? How about saying that ? Of course you can't. Of course it's a small comfort to be there to hold her, to be close to her, so much more than you would normally, but no comfort that this is only because she is breaking her heart over some idiot that treats her so badly. And of course she cannot see. Cannot see that you feel this way. Probably would never even guess that you may feel this way. Always consider you the friend. The friend only. Not that you could be conditional, not that your feelings mean that you cannot be a friend.

Just that it's very, very, fucking hard.

Tuesday, 27 August 2013

Just when you think it's all shit...

Tuesday August 27th. 18:58.

Sitting alone in a pub in Swanwick, (The Village Inn) waiting for the rest of the collectively creative talents of Beacon to arrive. Tonight we are looking at how to... well end the current season of 'The Adventures Of Stephen Brown'.

There's some different ideas to talk about, to throw back and forth like the proverbial pinball. Not wishing to spoil things for anyone that actually watches the series, I won't divulge what the suggestions are. That would be wrong.

It's been a fun old day at work. I have though, come away with a feeling that I can do anything if I put my mind into 'can do' gear and do it. I took an escalation from an advisor where this guy wanted us to remove his meter, today. If we didn't, his house sale would fall through, which was also due to complete today - and if that happened he and his son (who was also purchasing a property as a result of this sale) would probably lose the houses that they were buying. All this because of some odd stipulation on the part of the mortgage company used by the person buying their property. We'd tried to find an appointment for him, done some running around, calling different people, and found out that we could go out there on September 9th. This wasn't going to be enough to help him. The guy was getting really desperate on the phone, offering to pay for the job to be done.

Enter.. Resolver Man.

I called some other people, spoke to someone in charge at the depot, and they were able to arrange for an engineer to go round there on the way home.

The customer was over the moon. Ecstatic. He was very thankful, and said he couldn't put into words the relief that we'd given him.

You know, just when you're day is going to shit, just when you think that maybe it's an endless tunnel of slog and hard work and little progress... you get things like this that give you pause to stop and remember. Actually I like what I do. I love helping people. I love making a difference.

Now for some ideas about how to round of a science fiction series......

Little more suck please

Tuesday August 27th. 01:14. 

I should be asleep. I am not.

This is because, despite me trying to lull my brain into a lower level of activity with a nice warm bath, and some therapeutic shaving - it had decided that I am wide awake and alert at this time of the morning.

The good thing, I guess is that I have chosen to use this time instead to blog away. Having not blogged for a couple of days you must all be wondering what's happening in the exciting life of me.

For the irony impaired, please get someone else to explain to you the meaning of the previous paragraph.

The excitement this weekend ? Well, being a bank holiday weekend, and it being of reasonable weather, and there being a music festival in Portsmouth - the 'Victorious Festival' no less. I was considering taking up my work friend's suggestion and going.

Now, I have to admit, normally the idea of camping in a field, where the mud is actually made of everyone's urine is not really my idea of fun. I like music, just not enough to want to stand, eat, or sleep in such conditions. I'd not be able to pack sufficient supplies of antibacterial wipes.

None-the-less. I digress. I'd thought about going along to said local festival, which wasn't in a field, and was instead in the historic dockyard. Even talked myself into how much fun it would be. (I normally hate anything that involves lots of other people, and certainly lots of other people having fun - I'm going to return to this statement later).

I of course put the idea to Chloe, my not quite resident teenager. She declared that she wouldn't mind the idea of going to a festival, but not with me. She would want to camp out, and dance with her friends. I said that I could dance, to which she stated that I could not, and should not anywhere near her. Ever.

The thing about camping though surprised me. Having turned down repeatedly the idea that we go camping. Again she explained the difference between her camping with her friends, and camping with her (already camp) father.

Scrub that one then.

Why do I not like going places that there are lots of other people ? Well, maybe it centres on two things. In my life, usually when lots of other people have been enjoying themselves, it's at my expense. Other times, I am just sat in the corner, 'not getting it'.

I just really don't feel comfortable with large crowds of people. There's some innate fear I think that at any moment they will turn into a baying mob, complete with pitchforks and chase me.

Anyway. After much deliberation I spent two hundred and sixty pounds on a new vacuum cleaner. The Dyson DC50 Animal, for those of you that want to be specific. (Question to self, why am I suddenly taken to writing as if there's actually anyone reading this ? - idiot). I was worried that I should get something with more guts, (mistyped that nearly to say 'more guys' - that's an entirely different blog entry), but the models concerned seemed much older and, frankly looked ugly.

The DC50 looks nice, packs a punch, is cute. AND the guy selling it to me complimented me on my Star wars / Banksie bag. I can't believe how much it's taken up from the carpets in the flat. Even what it got out of my mattress was embarrassing. I have to say, it's a real pleasure to use. I actually wanted to find more places to vacuum so that I could use it more. 

Monday, 19 August 2013

So cute !!!

Why a picture of a bunny ? I'll explain later

Monday August 19th. 01:10.

So rather than enjoy, or dwell in the last evening of 'freedom' before I return from holiday tomorrow, I went and did six hours of overtime.

What the hell is wrong with you ? - I imagine you saying. Well, screaming actually.

Hold the fuck on. There's logic to my zany ways.

By sacrificing six hours of my last evening of freedom, (which lets face it, I was going to waste on Second Life or watching some shite on the telly) I get to achieve three very important things.

1) I get a attack the email mountain. When I opened my work email, I had 156 emails awaiting my attention. I now only have 24 - and those are the ones that I actually need to keep.

2) I get paid overtime. Money.

3) I get paid overtime.

4) Did I mention the money ?

Look, the company are happy, the callers are happy - well mostly, I'm happy, hell even the inland revenue are happy.

See. Everyone's a winner.

You might go so far as to say that Chloe and ebay are happy. Because somewhere along the line they figure into the 'dispersal' of the said earned overtime.

Seriously. I am now on a 'not' spending spree. Attack the credit hill. It's not large enough to be considered a mountain, and it's too big to realistically be defined as a 'mound'. Something about that word, I don't like it. Take it away.

MY boss must have known that I was reading her emails, because she sent me a text saying she wanted to catch up with me when she comes into the office Monday.

Oh shit. I thought. (although I did moderate my response when answering her). I've gotten so used to returning from holidays to find chaos or trouble or beatings lining up for me, that I still do expect them.

She literally told me not to be silly, and went on to be complimentary about my 'can do' attitude.

It's not always been that way, and it's good to see the difference. I'm getting used to it, but it is taking time for attitude, aptitude and experience to align.

Sunday, 18 August 2013

Marvellous, windy, wet, return.

Saturday August 18th. 23:47

In my own bed. Again.

Back home. The weather in Portsmouth has greeted our return with a wet and windy rather than warm welcome.
Chloe's choice

My Mum and Dad have done lots of things around the flat for me whilst I've been away, as well as looking after Midnight and Twilight. Glad that I bothered to buy them some holiday presents.

Mum's choice
The plus side of getting home, was that the bags that I'd brought off Groupon before going had arrived. Chloe instantly claimed the one that she had her eyes on, and my Mum ended up claiming the pink one. It was a lovely pink though, but I think it may have been a step to far, even for me.

I am happy with the one I've been left with though. It's funky.

Just one of the things that I discovered over the week, which didn't make any sense whatsoever was that Chloe kept reacting most unfavourably the me using the word 'Marvellous'. I have not so far gotten to the bottom of why this word is worthy of such a reaction. But there we have it. Perhaps this will stay.. a marvellous mystery ?

Outside the wind continues to blow, the rain continues to fall. I have to say, I've missed wind and rain. I do like them. I guess it's easier to like them when you're not out in them, but hey ! Paint me burgundy, poke me with a Tiger and call me a hypocrite.

Friday, 16 August 2013

Savour the flavour

Friday 16th August 2013. 18:06

Another late-ish start to our last day, partly because it decided to rain mid-morning, partly because Chloe didn't surface from her pit until 10am.

Eventually, we left the caravan, to take our last trip on the bikes. Cycling into Rye to have a look around, and to return the bikes.

I had hoped to go see Rye castle, but we got hopelessly lost in the lanes and streets of Rye. Chloe attempted to direct me after checking her phone for directions, but I was confident that I knew which way it was.

I was wrong.

In the end, having gone round the town twice we gave up. I wasn't that fussed in the first place.

We found some gifts for people,  (to compliment the postcards that we bought yesterday - that will probably arrive next week some time) and then walked the 2 miles back to the caravan.

Nearly got tearful this morning, thinking about how this was our last day, and that pretty soon Saturday would flash past in a blur of train journeys. We've really had a great time this week, and it will be hard not just going back to work next week, but also not being with Chloe. It's that bitter-sweet moment that I face every year. Such is life I guess, but it doesn't get any easier.

Enjoy it while it lasts. Savour every day, because they do not come again.

Thursday, 15 August 2013

One (strange) Direction

Thursday 15th August. 23:32

We've had a much quieter day today. We did in the end go for a short cycle ride in the evening, for about half an hour - just to find a post box really.

I do find it easier to go out, to get outside and enjoy the fresh air when I'm on holiday. I can no longer claim that this is because there are less distractions or reasons I can use to side track me into staying indoors. I've brought them all with me. Well, with the exception of the cleaning or doing my laundry I guess. I've brought my ipad, Chromebook, Blackberry and Kindle with me.

That's right folks, one mobile internet connection wasn't enough, so I brought another along, just to be on the safe side.

I uploaded some more photos today, from our marathon bike ride, and some new ones taken today from Rye Harbour, which we stopped off at on our little cycle out today.

We did find a post box. We did post the obligatory post cards. There's only one person that will receive one that hasn't been kept up to date with what we're doing by other means already. All the others will have had the chance to see the pictures, or seen the facebook updates.

Do we ever really get away ? Well, not if you take all your technology crap with you, no.

Chloe and I watched some TV this evening, after tucking in to a ready meal lasagne (Chloe's first Lasagne, and she deemed it 'lush' - so that's a success then. Something we will have to try and make when we get home). We watched a program on Channel 4 about the fans (or stalkers) of One Direction. They're this boy band that were formed out of one of the reality TV shows where people vote for which most popular, tuneless wannabe stars they'd like to thrust into the not entirely unforgiving glare of the worlds media and public eye.

The program focussed on the exploits of what have to be said are very determined and single minded fans. It has to be said that these fans all seem to be girls between the ages of 13 and 19. Fans with too much time and money to waste it would appear on chasing this poor group of boys around the country in the hope that they will meet, talk to, fall in love with and then marry (and live happily every after) one of the 'band'.

One man's determined and single minded is another man's stalker.

I can't understand where the parents of these girls are, why are they allowing or encouraging such utter mania. It's one thing to be a fan, and consumed by wanting to know about whatever your star is doing, when they are next releasing a single or whatever, but this ?

They seem to organise themselves on Twitter. Another thing for Twitter to be blamed for. My god there's a whole stadium full of crying, screaming teenage girls ready to be taken advantage of by some unscrupulous pop band manager, or anyone else for that matter. I find it quite scary that there seems to be no one in their lives imploring or enforcing restraint.

Some of them even have tattoos about the band. Sending messages via Twitter to the poor unfortunate boys in the band, threatening all sorts of emotional blackmail in order to illicit a response or 'follow' from them. It's sad and frightening.

I don't envy those boys one bit. How the hell can you possibly live anything like a normal life, meet friends, meet girl/boy friends when anyone you interact with is zeroed in by an army of demented teenage girls ? Anyone that is a 'threat' to their perceived ownership of the boys finds themselves the recipient of even nastier threats.

Thinking back, I am sure that fans have always been this... extreme, or at least some of them have been. It's just that with modern technology and social media, they get to share how they feel, and provide validation to their own fantasies.

It's a crazy situation, and it's a miracle someone hasn't been seriously hurt or had something bad happen to them.

Some of the fans have taken to writing fan fiction. Giving literary voice to their fantasies (I guess at least it's creative and constructive.... maybe). Some of these fantasies explore the idea that two members of the boy band are actually secretly in a gay relationship. The logic of this being that at least if the two guys concerned are in love with each other, then they at least aren't going out with any OTHER girls. (other than the fans).

Hang on.. erotic gay fiction, written by teenage girls ? That's not at all mixed up is it.

The day after the cycle the day before.

Thursday August 15th. 2013 10:09

Yesterday we finally managed to go on the cycle ride that we've been talking about doing for the last few days. All told, with the journey into Rye and back, I think we've cycled about 22 to 24 miles.

That's the furthest certainly I've gone on a ride in my life. I'm really proud that Chloe kept up too, and not a single complaint about it.

We stopped off half way round at the 'Rose and Crown' for a pub lunch. I've even managed to catch some sun.

The countryside is beautiful and the country lanes that we've travelled on barely had any traffic on them at all.

Returning to Rye, we went into the supermarket and stocked up on supplies, so it was with a back breaking load of food in my rucksack and another canvas bag full on my handlebars.

Pretty soon after getting back to the caravan and some light food, Chloe was snoring on the sofa. After our somewhat quieter Wednesday, I don't blame her. For me, I'm surprised that I'm not immobile with aches and pains.

Sunday, 11 August 2013

Caravans and cycling..

Sunday August 11th. 22:12.

First full day in the caravan. I got up at 7am, Chloe on the other hand didn't surface from her pit until gone 10 am.

We've had quite an energetic day, despite Chloe's best efforts to be as lazy as hell. We walked the some two miles into Rye town, and then around the shopping streets. We managed to not spend any money in the shops, principally because all the shops were closed.

Even the closest thing they have to a supermarket round here, which is the local Budgens store.

We did manage to find a store that's not too far from the entrance to the caravan park - so not quite in the back of beyond as we thought.

Whilst in Rye, we went to the cycle hire shop and hired two bikes for the rest of the week.

Tomorrow we're going to go on a trip round on the bikes, We've got some maps of cycle routes. Awesome.

After having some pizza this evening, we went out for a mad little cycle ride before the light completely faded. I think we've both eaten three thousand midgies.

Saturday, 10 August 2013

We've got a ticket to Rye....

Saturday. August 10th. 23:30.

I write this from the bedroom of our caravan in Rye.

Our trip here was a lot shorter in time, and a lot cheaper in money than our previous trips to Paignton, in Devon. Not sure how they compare in sure distance. (Guess that'll be something else I google in a second).

I appear to have brought with me enough technology to open a small branch of Currys. Before booking, there's three things that I checked upon. Proximity to a train station (as I don't drive, it's the only viable method of transport open to us), Swimming pool. (if there isn't at least an outdoor swimming pool, then it's a no go. Although last year we only used the pool once). Is there 3g signal.

All those things checked out.... and here we are. I have to say it's probably the smartest and newest caravan we've ever stayed in. It even has a pitched roof. (like that's so 21st Century).

The struggles with transport though were due to our journey coinciding with that of lots of Brighton and Hove football fans. Our one change was at Brighton, and our train into Brighton was delayed by the many football fans not understanding that if they moved down the train, there would be room for them all to fit, or just generally trying to get in train doors where there was a mass of crowd-sheep.

exploring starts here
I may not have mentioned before, but I don't really like football. It's not just football to be fair, it's actually all sports. I haven't got one ounce of interest. I have occasionally gotten bothered about international matches, or finals of Wimbledon (that's Tennis). Really my objection isn't the sport itself. To me it's like religion, I don't care about it, I don't believe in it, it's not my thing, but I know it goes on, and it means a lot to some other people.
there be wind power in them there fields 

I guess the similarity continues onto what is my main gripe with both, in that the fans (or followers) seem to be completely blind to the concept that there are other people on the planet that don't share their passion, fascination or care for their love.

I don't mind either, really I don't, as long as no one is going about saying I MUST love or follow something.

Anyway, was quite a squeeze. Our first train, was meant to get us to Brighton with about 14 minutes to spare before our next train left to take us to Rye. Because of all the delays with hordes of Brighton Fans pushing to get onto the train at each of the last eight or nine stops before Brighton, we only just made it in time.

Once we were finally in Rye, it became a case of figuring out if getting a Bus to the caravan park was viable, or even possible, or if we should bite the bullet and get a taxi.

£7 later, we were in our caravan. The one thing that is an adjustment is that there's no shop on site to speak of, and nothing anywhere nearby, as far as we can make out. (we've looked on google maps - god forbid we actually ask someone).

Tomorrow we plan to walk back into town, and hire some bicycles for the week. This will give us some independence and mean we can really explore the place.

It's a lovely area, from just what we've seen so far. Miles of walks. We're right next to a nature reserve. We went for a bit of a walk along part of it this evening. I practically had to force Chloe to get back off her arse and leave the caravan, but having realised the shopping choices were so limited, we needed to get to the site office (where they have a very limited selection of bare essentials - we're talking loo roll, milk, bread, tins of baked beans) before that shut.

Of course the other alternative, which we may take advantage of tomorrow, is to order some food online and have it delivered to the caravan.

I'm really looking forward to getting out and about and doing some exploring, either on foot or on wheels.

Friday, 9 August 2013

1 Day To Go

Friday 9th August. 2013. 00:27

A long and chaotic day this one. Thank fuck there's only one more until I'm off on holiday - with the teensmurf.

And it comes not a moment too soon. I just can't wait to get away. Get away from the chaos. From the mess. Sometimes you might wonder that if the organisation you work for ran a brothel, all the customers would go home virgins.

Nah. It's not that bad. Honest it's not.

I got out very late today. Ended up staying till 8pm. This means I did nearly a 12 hour day today. Like the not so good old days.

Still I am confident that there won't be any nasty little surprises for when I come back. The way I feel this week, I don't care. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. People are getting a little bit wound up at work. Tense times. It's very busy.

I guess being busy, and having too much work to do is better than the alternative.

Thursday, 8 August 2013

Rain stops debate ?

Thursday. August 8th. 00:17

Tonight, the residents of the newly built estate that I live on are holding a meeting. They have decided to have this meeting, in the open air. Next to the recently constructed play-park that has been the object of much dissatisfaction.

There have been many, many, emails flying backward and forward amongst those who have a fuck to give about the state of the estate. There's arguments and confusion about which bits of it are still the responsibility of the builders (Taylor Wimpey) and which bits are the responsibility of the company that manages the estate - Chamonix Estates.

Lots of the residents are unhappy about the upkeep of the area, the general mess, seeming lack of maintenance and gardening - considering the hefty service charges we all pay to live here. These things are not the responsibility of the council, like they are in most areas. Our roads have not been adopted by the local council.

There's been a spate of bike thefts, and much is said about the locks being rubbish on the bike stores for the blocks of flats that are on the site.

I wonder if the fledgling democratic process will survive the English weather. Will the turnout be effected if it's colder, windier, or even rains ? I'm sure those that decide to go will be able to relocate somewhere else, to someone's house. It's not clear at the moment how many people are going.  Perhaps if our government was held open air, then the debates in the Houses of Parliament, would be more brief than present.

I have mixed thoughts about my attendance. As far as having an opinion about the 'service' provided by those that I am paying to provide such, and the upkeep of the site. I don't see how some of the charges can frankly be justified.

However, when I reported that my bike was stolen, and remarked in my email that perhaps this wouldn't have happened had the gate that was supposed to be there, as per the plans for the site at purchase, been present - within the space of about a week, they had organised for a gate to be fitted. This wasn't something that I've ever been billed for, but someone must have paid for it. This does now mean that I have 'claimed' ownership of the bit of the path to my front door that is onward of the gate. Therefore giving me a teeeny tiny bit of outdoor space.

And some ferocious bush plants that I have damaged my back trimming back. When I say trimming back, I mean - killing. The patch of greenery, bushes and grasses that are by my gate, and next to where the parking space is for my flat (that my Dad uses), have never been maintained. My Dad reckons that these are not maintained by the managing agents of the estate.

If this is the case, I fail to see what charges are levelled at my type of property, that aren't charged to all the other types of dwelling on the site for gardening, because the only areas that are adjacent to or attached to my flat aren't being looked after by any gardeners sent by Chamonix.

Part of me wants to get involved, part of me just wants to stay indoors and do some cleaning or writing. Considering how close the chosen location is to my flat, I could probably in all reason, actually listen from inside the flat. There's something about groups of people that aren't structured in any way, that I feel easily turn into an exercise in giving everyone a chance to speak, but no one a chance to actually answer anything or get anything done. All talk no action.

This may not be the case, but the number of emails I've seen flying backward and forward this week is getting close to those that I get at work. IE close to a level that I stop reading them. I guess I'll find out tomorrow.

Apparently, Chloe has died the tips of her hair blue. Brilliant, I'm going on holiday with a teenage smurf. 

Wednesday, 7 August 2013

Turn off the TV and do something more interesting instead.

Tuesday. August 6th. 2013. 23:55
Today was my nephew's birthday. He is now thirteen. Another teenager in the family. All we need. Considering that the pushed his brother through the (thankfully open) french doors at my sister's house the other day, he's kind of lucky to have made it this far.

The normal 'witty' card, and emailed Amazon voucher as a present. Does this make me a lazy giver ? Well, actually when it was the case that he was getting a bike for his birthday I had bought a new lock and rechargeable bike lights for him. Having changed his mind, and decided that learning to ride a bike was 'too much for him', that became a pointless thing to buy him.

Even though I had purchased them I am sure that I can still make use of them when I finally get round to buying a new bike.

So far this week I've not gotten much writing done. I've kidded myself that my online escaping into 'Second Life' is a valid alternative for spending my time. When I'm away on holiday I won't be able to go on Second Life. So I will miss my virtual world. When I say miss. I don't mean it like that. I don't actually go on it at all that much these days. When I first started it, I was on it for hours and hours every night. Now I probably only go on there for a couple of hours a week. 

I need to stop turning the Television on again. This seems to be the routine when I come in from work.

Get in.
Let cats out.
Turn on TV.
Slump in sofa.
Pointlessly surf the internet / check facebook.

Maybe, just maybe I will start some novel editing, or I will start a blog entry. I've done that a couple of times. But the TV gets in the way of any real focus. Trouble is, Star Trek Enterprise is on at 7pm every night.

As time goes on, it's becoming less and less easy to hide my inner nerd. When I say inner. I mean the inner most 98% of me.

Monday, 5 August 2013

In another time, another place.

Doctor Who logo
New Doctor ?

So they finally announced it. The new Doctor Who is Peter Capaldi. This guy that played the angry, sweary, spin doctor, Malcolm Tucker in the series 'The Thick Of It'. He's also made an appearance as the father of a Roman family who the Doctor spares from the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in the David Tennant story 'The Fires Of Pompeii' (ironically also the first appearance of Karen Gillan). He also appeared in Torchwood - Children Of Earth.

With a departure from the younger Doctors, Capaldi is 55 years old. The same age as William Hartnell when he was cast as the very first Doctor way back in 1963.

With much pomp, ceremony his appointment as the next man to control the Tardis was revealed to the nation on a live show on Sunday night.

Already the buzz on the internet of 'who is it' ?, or 'who can it be..I wish it was...' the endless speculation since Matt Smith revealed in June that he would be leaving the show has been replaced by two camps of viewer.

Either those that love the idea. Or those that hate it.

The internet isn't a place where people without an extreme opinion seem to get heard much.

Personally I think it's an interesting choice. It'll be good to see how he takes over, and develops the role, how the scripts change. What sort of Doctor will he be ? Will he be more like Hartnell and Eccelston, distant and authoritarian ?

Peter Capaldi
Peter Capaldi. Older, not so sweet Doctor ? 
I'm sure that some of those saying they'll never watch the show again, may actually keep their word, and stop watching. The vast majority though will suck it up, and find themselves drawn in as the new Doctor takes his first strides about the console room in the Tardis. Soon forgotten their rejection of a man's performance without even seeing him in action.

The only slight disappointment for me was that I really wanted us to have a female doctor. It would be about bloody time. The doctors have all (so far) been a selection of white men.

In an interview in the show revealing the next doctor show head writer and executive producer, Steven Moffat went very clearly on record as saying that he felt strongly that it was about time for a female Doctor. After all, if we can have a female Prime-Minister, and the Americans can have a black president, it seems a bit unimaginative for us not to have either represented in the longest running science fiction show in the world.

There's also the whole argument about the Doctor only having 12 regenerations. Capaldi will be the 12th Doctor. Now, do you count the number of bodies as the regeneration, or do you count the number of times he's regenerated. Is it inclusive ?

I'm sure twisting our heads around one more regeneration isn't something we'll have to worry about, there'll be some clever way for the Doctor to 'refresh' the number of regenerations he has, or indeed for that limit to be explained away. It's all in the writing after all. Such is the nature of drama, let alone drama where you have the ability to break the laws of physics on a weekly basis. Other science fictions shows use reality breaking time paradoxes every now and then. Doctor Who eats, breathes and shits reality breaking time paradoxes.

Temporal schism ? Bring it the fuck on.

Sunday, 4 August 2013

Saturday. Oh, how I love you Saturday

This weekend's a bit out of the ordinary, because I'm not seeing my daughter. She's gone away for the weekend with her mother.

Nice for them to get away, and in a funny way, it also sets things up nicer for her to go away with me for the week. Making that just a little bit more special.

I have to be honest, I've been fighting the 'holiday mode' since booking the holiday last weekend. I have to keep reminding myself that I do need to get up at 7am and go to work each morning.

Got out of work late. Had to take a call from an unhappy customer. The day had been really quiet, and rather pleasurable in fact, just that as normal, as the shift ended, everyone else seems to be too busy to be able to deal with this.

In between making sure I don't enter holiday mode too early, I need to continue with the editing of the NaNoWriMo story, get some cleaning done, make a start on the editing of the episode of Stephen Brown and write a review.

Not a lot going on then. Easy enough to balance out really.

Tomorrow evening the BBC are showing a live TV show at 7pm, in which they announce who the new Doctor Who is. One set of waiting will be over, and then another starts, as the Whovians count down to November 23rd, when the 50th Anniversary episode is aired. The regeneration to the new as yet un-named Doctor won't occur until the Christmas special.

There's plenty of speculation online about who the 12th Doctor will be. Will it be someone Ginger ? Will they be black, will they be female or male ? I'm not about to launch into some detailed analysis of who the next person to fly the Tardis will be. I have no idea. I have no preference.

In Moffat we trust.

Still of Matt Smith, Karen Gillan and Arthur Darvill in Doctor Who
 – ©

Friday, 2 August 2013

This Time Next Week...

I will be probably doing some last minute packing, or trying in vain to go to sleep, ready for the start of our holiday.

I just can't wait to get away. To spend some time away from work, and away from home, and time with Chloe.

I'll miss the cats, but I can't realistically bring them with us.

Went to the pub after work with Rob. Nice couple of Vodkas... okay maybe more than a couple. A couple of couples and some nattering about life, work, love. The usual sort of things. He was telling me how he's got himself a new girlfriend, which I think is really nice. He's a nice guy, and hasn't had a huge amount of luck lately - so good to see him find some happiness.

What about me ? (I don't hear you ask). I'm fine thank you very much. There's no one close, no one near. No one at all that I'd be remotely interested in.

Oh. Okay, maybe that's not entirely true. Anyone who knows me well enough, or for any small amount of time, will know that I have a sort of 'like, be pathetic, say nothing, do nothing' kind of policy when it comes to love. Worked for me so far. When I say 'worked' I think I'm using the word quite wrongly.

Thursday, 1 August 2013

Day Off

No lazing in the sunshine for me. No sleeping in.

Not even considering that I'd been up till about 3am, reading. I did however get to lay in until about 9am. Although I had left my normal alarms in place (for 6:30am). This frustrated the cats a bit, as they were, no doubt hoping that I would get up at the normal time to feed them. 

They were mistaken, hungry and disappointed.

I did, however, get up at 9am and got myself ready for the day. I had previously arranged with Steve Launay to come down so that he could bring the files of footage and sound, that hopefully I am going to be able to edit into an episode of The Adventures Of Stephen Brown. 

Because I knew he was coming down around 10:30, I got my 'wiggle' on and got up, got washed and dressed, and went into Cosham. (funnily enough they don't react too well if I go the shops naked -No. I haven't tried it, but I'm pretty certain it wouldn't go well). 

I popped into the bank, to cash a cheque from my parents (toward Chloe's birthday present), brought a fleece, and then went and sat in Costa Coffee, writing - or more precisely editing my NaNoWriMo novel. Lately I have been moved by the content of some of the books I've read on my kindle, and the realisation that the only thing holding me back from self publishing on Kindle (as it's free) is myself, and the fact that I haven't finished editing the damn thing. 

Just pecking away at it, bit by bit each day means that I make sure and steady progress. Some days quite a lot, some not very much, but still a great deal more progress than I would have been making otherwise. 

The Chromebook comes into its own here. Enabling me to continue this editing process pretty much anywhere and to update the file on the 'cloud' which means I only have one version knocking about, and I can access that on my iMac, my ipad and of course the Chromebook. 

There's something more serious and focused about writing or editing on the Chromebook. I do still find myself trying to touch the screen in order to navigate on websites or the select a word or phrase. I still feel that for the £120 I spent buying it off Ebay, I got a really useful tool that's easy to use and super efficient. 

I have now found that I am leaving the ipad at home, and making sure that I always take the Chromebook. If it weren't for the contract that I have for the iPad, I would be thinking about getting rid of it, and considering a 7inch tablet (what you mean like the Samsung Galaxy Tab 2 that I donated to my Mum and Dad ?) for those moments when a tablet's portability and interface comes into its own. This does not need to be a £400 plus device. 

Helpful Youtube Video
Anyway, the workers in Costa, filtered the coffee, I filtered the noise, and there was a lot of it, in order to write / edit. I still got a fair bit of work done, and was interrupted, not by the rowdy people around me, but by Steve arriving. 

After downing my second unnecessarily huge coffee, we set off for mine, to complete the file transfer.

I also treated Steve to some lunch. 

The power units that enable me to use the power sockets to connect the iMac to the router, without resorting to wifi (because it's slower). These had ceased to work. So important is it to me that I have a hard wired internet connection for the iMac, that I'd stated to think about how I could reorganise the room, rearrange things in order to preserve that connection.
After struggling to get them to work, and being initially really angry that they had failed I turned, of course to the internet. 

On youtube I found a very useful video that showed me how to reconfigure them to work correctly.