How do their minds work?

One of my kids (Child 2) said that when he was older, he was going to make a film.

"At the end of it," he said, "it's going to say 'no animals were harmed in the making of this film."

"Whats your film going to be about?" I asked.

"It's going to be called 'Harming Animals.'" he replied.

Beautiful.

The Antarctic

As I'm sure you know, I very rarely share websites that I find interesting with people here, but I came across a photography site earlier that absolutely amazed me. Antarctic-Imagery is a collection of absolutely breathtaking images from the Antarctic.

The photos were taken by Malcolm Needham, while serving on the Royal Navy's HMS Endurance, and they include crystal clear images of icebergs, landscapes and seascapes.

Some are moody and eerie, some dramatically atomspheric, but all taken with absolute clarity. Genuinely breathtaking.

Go and have a look.

Go now, and thank Gary Spencer for a putting together a great, easy to navigate site.

http://www.antarctic-imagery.co.uk/

One more of the "things I can't do"...

Decorate.

I hate decorating. I find it painstakingly dull. Even the word "Decorating" fills me with boredom. Not just a slight feeling of *sigh*, but a proper instant full-on feeling of dread and loathing combined.

Dragging a brush over a wall for three hours to make it into a different colour seems like a fruitless task.

When you're putting up wallpaper you first have to remove the original wallpaper. Oddly, wallpaper isn't usually designed to come off easily, so you have to soak it a patch at a time and scrape it off in small, scratchy sections. When your wall is empty you then have to put some liner up, which is like plain paper. Finally you have to cover up the liner you've just put up with different paper. I cannot think of anything more frustrating. Seriously. There was paper on the wall already...... Why would you think of struggling for days taking it off only to put more back on? You're just making more work for NEXT time you want to de-paper your walls.

*sigh*

You know when you accidentally send a text to wrong person? You know that feeling of utter dread that sweeps over you? That is how I feel about decorating, but instead of instant dread replace the feeling with instant dispair.

(I know that on the list of things I cannot to, this is technically number 11 out of 10, and so I apologise profusely to anyone with OCD.)

10 things I cannot do - part 2

10 things I can't do. (things 6 to 10)

This is the continuation of the earlier section.

Enjoy! (Or, like me, cringe.)


Watch singing on TV without my throat joining in.

Just so we are clear, I can watch singing on TV without singing along. My singing is awful. In the past, while singing, people have stopped me and offered me painkillers.

What happens is that, when I see a singer on TV, my throat engages and I automatically copy the notes internally, as if I were singing but without the noise. I don't breathe out, or make an effort to be heard, but my throat follows the note involuntarily.

If you watch my neck while I am watching normal telly, it would be motionless. But if you watch my neck while I'm watching a singer on TV, you would see my adams apple bobbing up and down in unison, like a cork in a neck-shaped jar. (No, I've no idea either - my hands just typed it.)

Watching opera hurts.


Knitting

One of the things that I used to do with my girlfriend 15 years ago, (who is now my wife and has been for the last 14 years,) was try to knit. She could knit anything, usually without the need for a pattern. It was second nature to her, like typing is to me. While typing, I can look around and have a conversation with no break in my typing speed. She could do other things while knitting like make a cup of tea or, probably, drive.

She once tried to teach me how to knit. She decided to teach me how to make a 10 x 10 square of "knit." She did the first line on my needles, showing me each step, then she patiently showed me how to attach line two to line one. Then, unfortunately, she let me have a go.

Within 3 minutes with her own needles, she had knitted a perfect square. I had knitted what could be best described as woollen entrails.

I tried again over the following weeks and knitted a variety of things. I managed spaghetti, more entrails, a murder scene and a bowl of noodles without a bowl. They were all supposed to be squares, but all went badly wrong.

I've tried a few times since to get her to teach me again, but she just winces as if the pain returns with the memory.


Yawning without shaking my head left and right.

Years ago I yawned once and my jaw locked open. Since then I am really wary of yawning.

From that point I have always shaken my head while yawning, in an attempt to loosen it while I close my mouth.

It must work, because it hasn't happened since.


Understand txt speak.

I just don't get it. I'm ok with chatroom speak from years ago, like lol and a/s/l (which is going back about 10 years when I was young and able to learn new things) but I don't get modern day txt speak.

It takes me longer to read the shorter words than it does to read the full versions. It takes me even longer still to attempt to type them into my phone, as I can't understand what I'm doing while missing out letters on the fly. I often type the word out in full so I can read it, then have to navigate about to delete vowels and replace ate with an 8, etc.


Resolve misunderstanding by talking, after causing the misunderstanding by talking in the first place.

So this is the final thing I can't do. If I accidentally say something that sounds a little offhand, or could be construed as insulting, I try to immediately rectify it by explaining what I meant. This often leads to me accidentally adding further and further accidental insults, or
digging myself in deeper and deeper, until I get to the point where I want the earth to just open up and deliver me a fiery blast from its molten core, permanently ending the awkwardness I've caused, eliminating mankind in it's entirety, so not one single memory remains of the awful event.

Most people have that cut-off where they realise that the less they say, the quicker the situation will be over and forgotten. But I don't seem to have that. In retrospect I can see where I SHOULD have stopped talking, but at the time I get so concerned that I've said the wrong thing I try to backtrack without thinking everything through, a little too eagerly.

When typing an email, I usually put a lot of thought into everything. I often type something out in full, re-reading and editing it many times before clicking send. With text you get to type it, check it, edit it, check it again and finally send it. There is also often a period of time between it being sent and being read at the other end, during which you could also forward extra things if, after another re-read, you spot things that may need clarifying.

But I don't have this luxury with speech. It just comes out of my mouth and hits peoples ears without allowing that thought period in between.

What is even worse is that when I do it, I can feel the atmosphere change from a happy, friendly one, to an impending follow-me-to-doom one. And yet I'm completely powerless to stop it.

Conversations about womens ages never go well. I take "mature" to mean "grown up", "serious" or "concentrating", but it seems other people take it to mean "old". Trying to get out of a conversation where you've just called a 30-something "old" never ends well.

"I don't mean OLD, I mean you look like you're concentrating like a grown up, with a thoughtful wrinkled forehead...... No, not wrinkles like old people get, you're not OLD old, you've got ages left yet, I just mean you're not as old as me yet are you....... No, I'm not saying you LOOK as old as me, I just mean that on an "old scale" you'd only be half way........"

Age, height, gender, looks, speech, dialect, hair, shoes, clothes, writing..... very little is exempt from my amazing lack of conversational tact. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that ANY conversation that I have outside of my own head has quite a high chance of going the same way as the example one above.

I often wish there was an "end it all now" button I could press mid-conversation.

My First Tanka Poem

After watching NHK this morning, (Sky channel 516,) I learned about Tanka - the Japanese poetry. I won't go into everything here, but a quick search on wikipedia will tell you everything you need to know about it.

In quick summary, it's a poem that follows similar rules to the haiku (5-7-5 syllables) but the pattern is 5-7-5-7-7. It is considered bad etiquette if the any of the words rhyme, and it is meant to be an inner reflective form of poetry.

Here is my first ever attempt at Tanka.

I stare at the web
Every day for hours I browse
my wife clicks off-switch
I'm spending too long online
Rather lose data than her

Very theraputic to write!

Quick Matthew Smith FAQ

A couple of months ago I met and interviewed Matthew Smith, creator of 80s computer classics Jet Set Willy and Manic Miner.

(Click to go to original post)

Since then I've received loads of emails asking various questions, so in an attempt to answer the most frequently asked ones, I have created this short post.

How can I get in touch with MS?

I got in touch by searching the Retro Gamer website, and finding a post from a man who was going to interview him. I contacted him and he was kind enough to phone me back, and arrange everything. He was a true gent.

So if he rang you back, can you give me his number because you must have it?

Firstly, no. He was kind enough to reply to me because I got in touch via email initially. He chose to get in touch with me after reading my emailed plea, seeing my website and forming his opinion of the type of person I was. I doubt he'd want any of his details given out so un-vetted strangers can contact him.

Secondly, I honestly no longer have his phone number. He phoned me back initially and left a voicemail. When I got his message, I hit "call" and (stupidly) not "store". I tried my sim in another phone a couple of days later, not realising that all my texts and recent numbers would be lost, so I genuinely no longer have it.

Whats his email address?

No idea! I sent a message via the Private Message service on the Retro Gamer website, so no email addresses were shown. I sent mine to him, and he phoned me back.

I'm sorry I can't help more.

Saying Hello Too Much

I went shopping on Saturday, and I saw someone that I hadn't seen for years.

I walked up to her and said "HI! How are YOU!?!"

She was equally happy to see me, and said "Fine! How are YOU?!?"

To which I replied "I'm Great! How are YOU?!?"

And she went "yeaaahhhh...... " and tailed off.

So now I look stupid, as I've asked how she was twice in less than 5 seconds. She must have though I wasn't listening to her the first time she said it.

I suppose I may have been making up for lost time.

Ex Colleague - Danny Nolan

Where I used to work, there was a guy called Danny Nolan.

He looked like a chubby Eric Morcambe, glasses and all, and was quite tall too. He must have weighed around 16 stone.

Anyway, he liked to gamble. He quite often went out on Friday night for a few hours at a casino, but only just made it back to work by Monday morning.

There was also another gambling man at work, called Tom Buller. Tom would have made an excellent game show host. He was in his 50s, and was one of those people who it's a pleasure to have known. A genuinely nice guy.

So a few of us were sat sround at work, chatting. I knew that Danny was a bit skint, so I started making funny bets with him, to give him the chance to make some money while entertaining us by doing daft things.

I bet him a quid that he wouldn't lick Tom Bullers face.

".... a quid?" he asked, interested.

"Yep, if you lick Toms face, I'll give you a quid."

"....nah, not just for a quid." he said, and became disheartened.

Adam joined in, and offered another quid. Then a few more people joined in. Eventually, Danny was faced with winning £8 of money from various people, IF he licked Toms face.

He took up the challenge, we all cheered, and marched off to find Tom.

Tom had just finished talking on the phone, and had no idea what Danny was about to do. Danny walked up to Tom and said...

"Tom?"

"Yes Dan?"

Danny said nothing. He waited a few seconds, then lunged at Tom with his tongue.

"GET OFF!" Tom yelled, fighting to keep Dans tongue off his face, his hands and sleeves. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING THAT FOR?!?"

"They've bet me £8 that I can't lick your face," Danny said, pointing to the group of us behind him.

Tom paused.

"8 quid?........ will you split it 50/50?"

We all went "EWWWWWWWW!", at Toms conditional lick agreement.

Danny agreed, but Tom added the final clause that he must dry his tongue first.

Danny dried his tongue on his tie, then with it slightly protruding, slowly leaned towards Tom. Disturbingly, Tom leaned towards Danny.

It was the most horriffic moment that I witnessed from that year, but Dans tongue and Toms cheek were in direct contact for over 2 seconds, while everyone got a look at the evidence.

Well, he either kept it there so that we could all take turns to see, or he kept it there for different personal reasons, but who am I to judge.

So we all walked back to our desks, and all gave Danny a quid each.

Danny was really happy with his winnings, and I could tell that I had got him into his "I'll do anything for money" mood, so I made one more bet with him.

I said "I bet you that you can't "accidentally" nudge Scottish Garys groin."

"What do you mean? Grab his nuts?"

"No, just.... y'know..... ACCIDENTALLY with the back of your hand knock his tackle. Next time he comes over, just ACCIDENTALLY nudge his knackers with the back of your hand."

Dan thought for a few moments. "......... ok" he eventually agreed.

Later that day. he really did it. I can't fully put into words how funny this accidental nudge thing was, suffice to say that we were all in a comparitively quiet room, and on contact Gary suddenly blurted out a noise that sounded like "BOI."

Luckily, as you may have noticed, for this second bet I didn't actually bet any money. I just made him touch Garys bits for no reason.

Hurrah!

My Music Teacher - Mr Iddon

One of the funniest things I ever witnessed, although it might lose a little in translation, was in Music with Mr. Iddon.

Before he came in we had the keyboards out, the ones with the little square microphones on the curly wires, and had all been recording saying words into them, so we could play them back at different pitches by using the high and low keys.

Simon Lyon, a friend, had recorded "no" on my keyboard just before Mr. Iddon came into the room. It was great getting my keyboard to say "n,n,no,n,no"

So Mr Iddon finally came into class, and raised his voice above all our noise. "ALRIGHT, EVERYBODY, QUEIT! Everyone sit down!" he bellowed and made his way to his desk.

Everyone instantly fell silent and began to sit down. In the silence as we were sitting, I leant forward to get seated and accidentally caught the lowest key on my keyboard. It was as if a giant had descended from the heavens as the deepest, rumbliest "NNOOOOOOO!" boomed out from my desk.

Derren Brown

I love reading Derren Browns blog. There is always something interesting there.

Recent posts have included A.I., brain monitoring, parrots, robots that can evolve, and legitimate attacks on alternative medicine. Oddly, very little of it relates to magic or mind reading.

I post quite infrequently, but read it daily.

Just a quick post to mention it really, as I wouldn't want you to miss out!

Derren Browns Blog

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