Cheltenham Clocks

We were visiting in Cheltenham and went shopping. The have a rather nice clock on the shopping centre. On the hour the fish blows bubbles. Oh yes.

Rolling Roadblocks

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

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

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.

Clock Of Madness

The timer on our microwave has gone bonkers. Half of the segments in the display have gone wonky and now every cooking operating is a voyage into the unknown. Number one wife likes porridge each morning cooked in the microwave. I wonder if she minds if it is grilled?

Not At All Suited

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Day Trip to Durham

Went up to Durham today and fetched number one son. The town was full of loaded cars and harrassed looking parents (including us). I think we brought back around five computers. At the moment they are all humming happily in his room, using up my mains and stealing my network bandwidth.

It is nice to have him back for a while.

No Such Thing as Bad Publicity

Went to a publicity workshop today. We did a SWOT analysis. Strengths, Weaknesses, something beginning with O and Threats. I wonder if the thing that begins with O is important?

Click. Google. Oh, opportunity. I wondered what that knocking noise was.

Man of a hundred spoons

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

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.

Things I Have Learnt: number 4

Another in the series of things I have learnt. A refreshingly short set of facts to guide you through life:

The question "What kind of fool do you think I am?" is rarely, if ever, answered satisfactorily.

Old Friends Who Aren't Old

Met up with an old friend today. She went out to Canada some time ago and came back to Hull to wallow in nostalgia and stamp around some of her old stamping grounds. Always nice to see people who haven't changed a bit, even over all these years. And she was nice enough to say that I haven't changed a bit either (although this did make me wonder about her eyesight..) She brought her family with her and we all got along famously, with a good time being had by all.

Film Culture Decoded

Here it is, the "Crazy World" movie description decoder. Just use this handy guide to make sense of any film description.

moving: somebody dies at the end
uplifting: somebody dies half way through
moody: depressing
unforgettable: depressing
intense: hard to understand/depressing
complex: incomprehensible
study: no story
amazing special effects: no story
thought provoking: no proper ending
hilarious: enough jokes to fill the 30 second trailer
action packed: enough explosions to fill the 30 second trailer
must see: my accountant says you must see it

Just replace their words with mine, for an accurate assessment of any film.

Open Day Saturday

After twenty minutes in the shower getting my hair back to its usual colour last night, it was back into the admissions open day routine today. I do the warm up talk and a bunch of other staff members turn up at the end to help me answer questions that people ask about the department and university life.

You'd probably expect me to say this, but I'm going to say it anyway. I really like working with these people. We had some tough questions today, and the thing that impressed me the most was the way that we all have a similar perspective on the really important aspects of computing. We will discuss the merits of this and that from an academic point of view, but on the fundamentals of what we are doing and why we are doing it we are as one and unshakeable. You know who you are folks, and I'm not sure whether or not you read this blog or not, but kudus and well done if you do (and slightly less kudos and a little bit of shame on you if you don't).

Redheads Have More Fun

Well, it's over now. Lots of hilarity and over five hundred pounds raised. The lecture in rhyme by me is now just about an institution. Which makes sense if you think about it. Everything was going well until my good friend Paul got in on the act with his offer of a large sum of money to have my hair painted red. No problem, I thought, I have no paint. He did. And the money. And so he empted an entire canister or hair dye (or was it car paint) onto my bonce. So, for the rest of the lecture, indeed day, I was sporting a very dodgy red headed paint job. I had another (proper) lecture to give and I also had to nip out and do some shopping. At least I got served faster. But I'm not sure whether it was out of pity or fear.

But is it art?

I am not a great poet (unless it is spelt grate). But I try. Many years ago I got slightly tipsy at a staff party and offered the boss a lecture entirely in rhyme, in aid of a good cause. I spent ages writing the stuff (poetry is hard you know) and then delivered it to a hushed and amazed audience in aid of the Comic Relief charity. That was nearly twenty years ago (shudder) and I'm still doing them.

Tomorrow is another one, and as is usual in these cases, I've not got round to writing the material yet. Actually, for this one I'm reusing some material from the previous one two years ago. My conscience is clear on this one, most of the students who saw the first one will have moved on, and I have changed the colour of the powerpoint slides. And it is in a good cause.

I'm not sure if you have to have an artistic bent (as it were) to write stuff like poetry, but as an engineering type I find it rather tricky. Do great artists find that the deathless prose just pours from them onto the page, or do they have to hammer every line out by hand like me. Would I be more an artist if it came easier to me, or if I had to suffer even more to get the words out. Actually, I'm going to leave profound stuff like this to the real artists, while I look for a rhyme for "Web Services Description Language".

Inky Fingers and Weak Wills

How do ink jet cartridges know to run out when you need them the most? Mine expired just at the end of printing out an otherwise perfect print on the most expensive paper. Never mind, I thought, I've got a spare cartridge. I got it out of its air tight bag, dropped it into the printer and it fell out onto the floor. Wrong sized cartridge for wrong printer. So now I have an opened cartridge for the other printer and a worrying feeling that the right cartridge is somewhere else in my room. And I can't print my picture. Dang.

So at lunch time I went out to get a new printer cartridge. I hate buying them because they are expensive and don't last as long as I would like (i.e. forever). So in the end I didn't buy one. I bought a camcorder instead. Well, I had to. It was the last one in the shop, specially reduced, and I've just got paid a little extra cash for some stuff that I wrote yonks ago. I've been thinking about getting a tiny little camcorder for the holls and they had one which looked perfect at a scarily good price. And I am very weak. And I like my toys. It is very nice. It does everything except make the tea. I'll buy the printer cartridge tomorrow. Maybe.

I am not a mean person

I have been taken to task as being a rather mean driver. Apparently I don't "let people in" as much as I should. These are folks who are so misguided as to live in silly little roads which are connected to the proper thoroughfares that I drive along to work. They sit at junctions in cars which are posher and newer than mine and expect me to stop and let them pull out.

I of course totally reject this allegation. I am a generous and open hearted person who will give you the time of day at any time of day, or indeed night. I spend ages agonising on how I may best serve my fellow human. I see myself as considering not just the driver being let out but the people who are in the traffic behind me, to whom I feel I also owe a duty in this respect. After all, letting someone in in front of me (note the "in front" part of this) means that I am also, by implication, delaying those behind. Who am I to slow all of them down, just so that some shiny BMW driver can complete some no doubt pointless journey from their big house?

Of course, this discussion would not have taken place if I had not failed to recognise the car of number one wife waiting to pull out of the filling station on the way home this evening....

Red Nose Day Madness

I'm doing it again. I've no idea why. Every two years I do this and swear it will be the last one. Especially after last time when they painted my hair red. It took ages to get the dye out. Our bathroom looked like it had just hosted a spectacularly gruesome murder.

But it is for charity (but then again, so is "Comic Relief Fame Academy" - arrgh). Oh well. If you really (and I mean really) have nothing better to do on the 11th of March. And you happen to be passing the Robert Blackburn Building on the University of Hull campus at lunchtime. And you want to learn about Microsoft .NET, Cheese, Smartphones and rapping. Then it just, just, might be worth dropping in. You can find out more and get a free poster here.

Free Food?

Took number one wife out for a meal today. We ended up at a place which does "two meals for the price of one" (I only go to the classiest joints). They implemented this rather cleverly by simply doubling the price of a single meal. And of course there were three of us.

I really should have ordered a fourth meal. I'm not sure if I would have been capable of eating it but it would have been worth a try. I thought about offering it to the person stood behind me in the queue, but this would have only complicated things. In the end we just had the three meals and left it at that. But next time I go there it will be in an even numbered party.....

BCS Competition

Today we hosted the Northern heats of the BCS programming competition in our big shiny lab. There were 12 teams of programmers fighting to beat the clock and complete as many of the problems as they could in the time allowed. With only one computer per team. Great fun. I was judging. Apparently we had more completed programs in Hull than anywhere else in the country. Which sounds good to me.

The competition in full flow

The Little Brown Ikea Pencil of Doom: Part 5

Lars Swedishname paced his hotel room nervously. For the thousandth time he cursed the twists of fate that had brought him to this nondescript town in a foreign country, searching out the ultimate in home furnishing evil. Then he cursed again. “A thousand and one” he thought as he sat down on the bed. He looked at the desk in the corner. On it was a silver bullet, a flask of holy water, a wooden stake, a crucifix and an electric pencil sharpener. There was a knock at the door. He stood up and walked over to see who it was.
“Who are you?” he asked, peering through the peep hole into the corridor outside his room. A unformed policeman stood with his head down. He appeared to be writing something in his notebook. Lars shuddered.
“Police Constable Wilkins, MadeupTown police” said the officer. “I’ve got some more questions about this theory of yours”.
Lars’s hands trembled as he removed the chain and slowly turned the handle. Then the door flew open and the policeman burst into the room.
“Lars Swedishname” said the Constable Wilkins, reading from his notebook. “I must kill you and then go and buy a Babord shoe rack”
Lars backed away from him, towards the desk. “Why the Babord” he asked nervously “The Skoomp is much larger and better finished. And it only costs an extra five pounds”.
The policeman looked down at his notes.
“No” he said, “It must be the Babord, it is pine finish and will better match the Bango telephone table. And now you must die”
Lars looked up at the policeman, staring at the little brown pencil behind the constable’s left ear. He would only have one chance to make his move and it must be…. now! He lunged forward towards the policeman, grabbing with outstretched hand for the pencil. His fingers plucked it from behind the constable’s ear, and with a deft movement he swung round and plunged the pencil into the electric pencil sharpener. The sharpener sprang to life, and then, as abruptly, stopped. “Curse these foreign mains adapters”, thought Lars, as the policeman moved closer towards him....
(to be continued)

Admit One

We had another admissions afternoon today. Lots of people. I like a big audience. Although of course this can mean more to fight off if things don't go well. Anyway, they seemed to enjoy the afternoon and were even polite enough to laugh at my jokes. A couple of people had been to one of my talks before. I hope you weren't too upset that I used some of the same material as last time. It is just that stuff of this quality is rather hard to come by. Oh yes.

Serious Advice from the Crazy World

I've been using this chip and pin thing for a while now to buy stuff. It seems to work fine. But I don't like tapping out my ultra secret number on the keypad for all to see. I know that they have a little plastic guard thingy, but I know about long lenses and tiny cameras.

So here is my tip to keep you PIN secret. Rather than tap the number out with one finger; lay your fingers over the numbers as you would piano keys. Then press each one with a different finger. I reckon it is virtually impossible for someone who is watching to see the much smaller movements that you make now. You might get an odd look from the cashier (mind you, I'm used to odd looks) but there is a much smaller chance of your number being stolen.

Run Out Of Words

I've spent just about all day writing notes for the First Year C# course. And now, I'm all out of words. The only ones I've got left are contraband and piffle and and.