The girl who served me on the checkout in Sainsbury's in the City this morning was called Candle and that got me thinking about how cruel parents can seem to be when picking names for their children.
For instance, my youngest brother went to school with a kid called Leon Perrin. Naturally enough he was called Worcestershire Sauce and the like. My other brother (jokingly, I hope) claims to have names picked out for all his future children. Names that, in combination with our surname, will sound absolutely ridiculous.
L and I haven't had to choose a name yet (though there is one we'd like to use). That's a joy still to come but I hope that we would be able to choose one that we both like and will not be the cause of trouble for the child we give it to.
Do you know anyone who has given their child an awful name? What was it?
Wednesday, October 29, 2003
November on Clear Blue Skies
As I have said a few times recently, I will be leaving Flashblogging behind and doing something completely different during November. Something that will still involve some input from my readers (that's you lot) but will actually put more emphasis on me and my writing.
I was fascinated by mike's 100x100 series a few months back, where he set himself the ridiculous task of having exactly 100 words in each of the next 100 posts. Although the scale of this particular project was probably too large, I liked the idea of setting some sort of restriction on my writing so I started wondering what I could do myself.
Later, I was listening to the Pink Floyd album Obscured By Clouds when I heard a couple of lines from a song that I thought would make a good subject for a post. Something in my head went click and November's special event was born.
Yes, November is Pink Floyd month on Clear Blue Skies. All the posts written in November will be inspired by lyrics from one of Pink Floyd's songs. And I mean all. So, if I see something that I really want to blog about, I'm going to have to find a lyric somewhere that I can connect it to.
I'll be writing about all manner of things (the Floyd have written some very odd songs in the last 35 years or so), from heavy subjects like war and insanity to silly, trivial matters and many of the posts will ask you to comment with your thoughts (the interactivity bit).
Unless you happen to be a fan yourself, I very much doubt you'll recognise many of the lyrics and I'm shying away from some of the really obvious ones. For example, I'm not going to write anything about not needing an education. I already have a list of 30 odd lyrics to use but I want to have a couple of posts most days so, if you are a fan and would like me to write something based on two or three lines from a particular song then email me.
As with this month's flashblogging events, I have no idea how well this is going to go and much of it will depend on you, my dear readers, taking part. Whether you're the biggest Floyd fan in the world or think that there could be nothing worse than being made to sit through a playing of The Dark Side Of The Moon, there will be something here for you so come along, read, comment and enjoy.
It all starts right here on Saturday morning.
I was fascinated by mike's 100x100 series a few months back, where he set himself the ridiculous task of having exactly 100 words in each of the next 100 posts. Although the scale of this particular project was probably too large, I liked the idea of setting some sort of restriction on my writing so I started wondering what I could do myself.
Later, I was listening to the Pink Floyd album Obscured By Clouds when I heard a couple of lines from a song that I thought would make a good subject for a post. Something in my head went click and November's special event was born.
Yes, November is Pink Floyd month on Clear Blue Skies. All the posts written in November will be inspired by lyrics from one of Pink Floyd's songs. And I mean all. So, if I see something that I really want to blog about, I'm going to have to find a lyric somewhere that I can connect it to.
I'll be writing about all manner of things (the Floyd have written some very odd songs in the last 35 years or so), from heavy subjects like war and insanity to silly, trivial matters and many of the posts will ask you to comment with your thoughts (the interactivity bit).
Unless you happen to be a fan yourself, I very much doubt you'll recognise many of the lyrics and I'm shying away from some of the really obvious ones. For example, I'm not going to write anything about not needing an education. I already have a list of 30 odd lyrics to use but I want to have a couple of posts most days so, if you are a fan and would like me to write something based on two or three lines from a particular song then email me.
As with this month's flashblogging events, I have no idea how well this is going to go and much of it will depend on you, my dear readers, taking part. Whether you're the biggest Floyd fan in the world or think that there could be nothing worse than being made to sit through a playing of The Dark Side Of The Moon, there will be something here for you so come along, read, comment and enjoy.
It all starts right here on Saturday morning.
Tuesday, October 28, 2003
Kicked the Bucket
Today's flashblog took place at Light From An Empty Fridge, where we all looked into the future and posted our own obituary, epitaph or last words. There's some good stuff over there so if you didn't take part, why not go and have a look?
Friday will see the grand finale of flashblogging month and that event will quite different to the four we've done so far. Hopefully it will go all right. Details will be sent out during the day on Thursday to those taking part. After that I will be putting the flashblogging concept into the attic of my mind and leaving it there. It may get dusted off in a few months or it may get incorporated into a new idea (mike has today emailed me with a suggestion that I may look into for a future special event), or it may just gather mothballs in the corner totally forgotten. Who knows?
Thank you everyone who has taken part over the last few weeks, I really couldn't have done it without you.
Friday will see the grand finale of flashblogging month and that event will quite different to the four we've done so far. Hopefully it will go all right. Details will be sent out during the day on Thursday to those taking part. After that I will be putting the flashblogging concept into the attic of my mind and leaving it there. It may get dusted off in a few months or it may get incorporated into a new idea (mike has today emailed me with a suggestion that I may look into for a future special event), or it may just gather mothballs in the corner totally forgotten. Who knows?
Thank you everyone who has taken part over the last few weeks, I really couldn't have done it without you.
Bloody clocks
Being relatively new to this blogging lark, I was unsure of the effect that changing the time setting in Blogger would have. So, I changed it anyway from GMT +1 to GMT after the clocks went back at the weekend. Of course, now all of the posts I've written to date now appear to have been posted an hour earlier than they actually were. So now, last Friday's Kojak vs Columbo post now looks like I posted it 20 minutes before the flashblog actually took place.
Grrrr.
Am I stuck with this or can something be done?
Grrrr.
Am I stuck with this or can something be done?
Monday, October 27, 2003
Special Numbers
I saw this link on Green Fairy's linklog and thought I'd draw your attention to it, too.
It's a list of numbers that have distinctive facts, such as 1980 being the number of ways you can fold a 2x4 rectangle of stamps. Some of the facts are highly mathematical and some aren't but it is an interesting read if you have a weird fascination with numbers like I do.
It's also reminded me of an illustration of proof by contradiction: Proof that all numbers are special. We can see (from the website above) that some numbers have unique 'special' properties, i.e. properties that no other number has. Lets assume that there are some numbers that are completely unremarkable and have no special properties. Within this list of 'normal' numbers there will be one number that is lower than all of the rest and hence is the lowest 'normal' number, which is a property that no other number can have. But this means the number is special hence our assumption is incorrect and all numbers are special.
Of course, this isn't a real mathematical proof because of the very vague definitions of special and normal. It does, however, show how elegant mathematical argument can sometimes be. That you can start of from a single assumption and, merely by following all the logical implications of that assumption, prove it to be untrue is quite beautiful.
But then I'm a maths geek.
It's a list of numbers that have distinctive facts, such as 1980 being the number of ways you can fold a 2x4 rectangle of stamps. Some of the facts are highly mathematical and some aren't but it is an interesting read if you have a weird fascination with numbers like I do.
It's also reminded me of an illustration of proof by contradiction: Proof that all numbers are special. We can see (from the website above) that some numbers have unique 'special' properties, i.e. properties that no other number has. Lets assume that there are some numbers that are completely unremarkable and have no special properties. Within this list of 'normal' numbers there will be one number that is lower than all of the rest and hence is the lowest 'normal' number, which is a property that no other number can have. But this means the number is special hence our assumption is incorrect and all numbers are special.
Of course, this isn't a real mathematical proof because of the very vague definitions of special and normal. It does, however, show how elegant mathematical argument can sometimes be. That you can start of from a single assumption and, merely by following all the logical implications of that assumption, prove it to be untrue is quite beautiful.
But then I'm a maths geek.
Flashblog #4
You've only got until 4.00 this afternoon to sign up for tomorrow's flashblog so comment or email if you want to take part.
Pro's and Cons of going bald
I would have posted this on Saturday if the bloody dial-up had given me any more time online. Anyway, better late than never.
These are the best of the pro's and cons of going bald that Thursday's Flashbloggers came up with.
Pro's
1. No one calls you 'Ginga' any more.
2. You look like Patrick Stewart.
3. No more worry about going bald.
4. You're the emergency replacement for when the bulb goes at the local lighthouse.
5. Your kids can't pull your hair.
6. You've obviously got loads of testosterone.
Cons
1. You can't go bowling anymore.
2. You look like Ian Duncan Smith.
3. All that money wasted on polish and wax.
4. People slapping your forehead.
5. The hairdresser's fabulous bosom is no longer shoved in your face.
6. The comb over.
That just about covers it, I reckon.
Anyone come up with any more since Thursday?
These are the best of the pro's and cons of going bald that Thursday's Flashbloggers came up with.
Pro's
1. No one calls you 'Ginga' any more.
2. You look like Patrick Stewart.
3. No more worry about going bald.
4. You're the emergency replacement for when the bulb goes at the local lighthouse.
5. Your kids can't pull your hair.
6. You've obviously got loads of testosterone.
Cons
1. You can't go bowling anymore.
2. You look like Ian Duncan Smith.
3. All that money wasted on polish and wax.
4. People slapping your forehead.
5. The hairdresser's fabulous bosom is no longer shoved in your face.
6. The comb over.
That just about covers it, I reckon.
Anyone come up with any more since Thursday?
Saturday, October 25, 2003
Oops
Today's Guardian has an article about David Blunkett apologising for calling the BBC's 'Secret Policeman' programme a stunt. The article contains the following sentence:
"Mr Blunkett originally criticised the undercover filming methods of the programme and said it was "trying to create news", without having seen the programme,'
Surely that's a poor choice of words to apply to David Blunkett?
"Mr Blunkett originally criticised the undercover filming methods of the programme and said it was "trying to create news", without having seen the programme,'
Surely that's a poor choice of words to apply to David Blunkett?
Let her rest in peace
I was never a big fan of Princess Diana. I don't think she was ever as much the victim as she lead the media to believe and I always had the feeling that she wanted it both ways; that she wanted privacy in her private life except when it suited her, and then she wanted all the media coverage she could get.
Surely now, though, she should be left to rest in peace? What good will Paul Burrell's new book, and it's serialisation in the Mirror, actually do? Burrell's statement last night that all he was trying to do was "defend the princess and stand in her corner" is laughable, especially given that his very next sentence was a dig at the royal family for not apologising after his trial sensationally collapsed last year. His motives appear to be far more selfish than he will admit; money for his own pocket and revenge over the Windsor's. He is the only person (apart from the owner of the Mirror, of course) who will benefit from all these revelations. The royal family don't want them and for Princes William and Harry I can only imagine that the whole affair will reopen old wounds that are just beginning to heal.
And would Diana herself have wanted all of this to come out like this? Burrell says yes, the princes say no. Can Burrell really have known her better than her own sons? I don't think so, and that just makes his actions in publishing this book seem even more suspicious.
Surely now, though, she should be left to rest in peace? What good will Paul Burrell's new book, and it's serialisation in the Mirror, actually do? Burrell's statement last night that all he was trying to do was "defend the princess and stand in her corner" is laughable, especially given that his very next sentence was a dig at the royal family for not apologising after his trial sensationally collapsed last year. His motives appear to be far more selfish than he will admit; money for his own pocket and revenge over the Windsor's. He is the only person (apart from the owner of the Mirror, of course) who will benefit from all these revelations. The royal family don't want them and for Princes William and Harry I can only imagine that the whole affair will reopen old wounds that are just beginning to heal.
And would Diana herself have wanted all of this to come out like this? Burrell says yes, the princes say no. Can Burrell really have known her better than her own sons? I don't think so, and that just makes his actions in publishing this book seem even more suspicious.
Friday, October 24, 2003
Scaryduck's story from yesterday reminded me of an incident from my own days at school and I thought it would be perfect to share with you all.
One cold sunny morning we were sat in a maths lesson. Amazingly, I think we were all actually working hard but that seems so unlikely that I may be wrong. It doesn't really matter. One of the kids at the front of class, let's call him Crusher (big, rugby player, someone to stay on the right side of), made a mistake and asked a mate of his a few rows behind him , Drifter (no real reason for this one), for some Tippex.
The little bottle of correcting fluid was duly passed forward and Crusher let it do its magic. Now, at this point the sensible thing to do would have been to pass the bottle back from person to person until it got to Drifter again. That's certainly what I would have done.
If that had happened, of course, I wouldn't be telling you this story.
No, Crusher decided to go the direct route and throw it back to Drifter. And it wasn't some nice, looping, underarm throw that would have guaranteed the bottle would land safely in Drifter's hands, either. Crusher half stood, pivoted and, as he called out to give Drifter the heads up, brought his arm round in a smooth, baseball pitcher's action and released.
It's at this point that, in my memory at least, time slowed down. I remember with an unusual clarity the bottle flying trough the air towards where Drifter was sitting. He flung his hands above his head and looked like he was trying out for the England cricket team as the bottle sailed through his fingers bare moments before they closed. Drifter's head went back in horror as he realised he'd missed it and we watched the bottle continue along its path towards the back of the classroom.
It's at this point that time reverts to its normal pace.
BANG!
Every head in the room, including the teacher's (who until now had been obliviously writing on the board) shot round at the noise. We were greeted with the site of a patch of white eighteen inches across on the back wall. Worse, not all the contents of the exploded bottle had ended up on the wall. There were drops all over the floor and a large patch on the side of a cupboard that saved a couple of kids from being covered. Unfortunately, the kids on the other side of the detonation point were not so lucky and had Tippex all over their clothes and in their hair.
Crusher, who hadn't had time to sit down again, just stood there staring with the rest of us for a long moment before somebody started to laugh. That triggered the rest of us (apart from the two unfortunates) and the teacher couldn't get us back under control. No more work was done in that lesson.
One cold sunny morning we were sat in a maths lesson. Amazingly, I think we were all actually working hard but that seems so unlikely that I may be wrong. It doesn't really matter. One of the kids at the front of class, let's call him Crusher (big, rugby player, someone to stay on the right side of), made a mistake and asked a mate of his a few rows behind him , Drifter (no real reason for this one), for some Tippex.
The little bottle of correcting fluid was duly passed forward and Crusher let it do its magic. Now, at this point the sensible thing to do would have been to pass the bottle back from person to person until it got to Drifter again. That's certainly what I would have done.
If that had happened, of course, I wouldn't be telling you this story.
No, Crusher decided to go the direct route and throw it back to Drifter. And it wasn't some nice, looping, underarm throw that would have guaranteed the bottle would land safely in Drifter's hands, either. Crusher half stood, pivoted and, as he called out to give Drifter the heads up, brought his arm round in a smooth, baseball pitcher's action and released.
It's at this point that, in my memory at least, time slowed down. I remember with an unusual clarity the bottle flying trough the air towards where Drifter was sitting. He flung his hands above his head and looked like he was trying out for the England cricket team as the bottle sailed through his fingers bare moments before they closed. Drifter's head went back in horror as he realised he'd missed it and we watched the bottle continue along its path towards the back of the classroom.
It's at this point that time reverts to its normal pace.
BANG!
Every head in the room, including the teacher's (who until now had been obliviously writing on the board) shot round at the noise. We were greeted with the site of a patch of white eighteen inches across on the back wall. Worse, not all the contents of the exploded bottle had ended up on the wall. There were drops all over the floor and a large patch on the side of a cupboard that saved a couple of kids from being covered. Unfortunately, the kids on the other side of the detonation point were not so lucky and had Tippex all over their clothes and in their hair.
Crusher, who hadn't had time to sit down again, just stood there staring with the rest of us for a long moment before somebody started to laugh. That triggered the rest of us (apart from the two unfortunates) and the teacher couldn't get us back under control. No more work was done in that lesson.
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