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Thursday 20 November 2008
"Searching! Looking For Love...."
With apologies to Hazel Dean (lord, how badly does that date me?)
Anyway, love appears not to be the object of the quest, but since I implemented MT-Search as part of the redesign at new year, I've had a log of the search terms people are using to find stuff within the site. And all I can say is, that this posting is going to put me in some very odd search results. I've taken out the duplicates, but the following represents the list to date. A month's worth, in other words.
'comics''wibble'
'BSE''Libya'
'DAVE''wibble'
'firefly''barbara'
'clienthastings
'cat grass''email addresses'
'patrick stewart's email address''haberdashery
'tara''amber'
'harry potter''m blissett'
'memoirs of a geisha''sue perkins'
'Joss whedon's e-mail address buffy and angel''letojanni'
'letojani''fray'
'cock''khaleej jobs'
'bridget jones diary''bricker'
'matt''stollar'
'Elijah Wood''gay'
'trans gender''corelli'
'de bernieres''NACHTWEY'
'pitchers''pitchers'
'Sex or something else''carriacou'
'paradise''an officer and a gentleman'
'britain stopped''san remo towers'
'supermarket''show photos'
'lavatera''in passing'
Gilligan
Of the various departures announced by the BBC in the last couple of days, Andrew Gilligan's is the one I find least unreasonable. Regardless of his beliefs on the subject of the information David Kelly provided him with, or any questions of the rightness of single-source reporting, is it just me or has his attitude throughout been entirely arrogant and annoying? Perhaps it's just a defence mechanism, but in the circumstances it looked very much like hubris. I'd certainly think he's more directly responsible for the negativity thrown the BBC's way this week than anyone else who's resigned....
You've *Got* To Be Kidding
So Greg Dyke has resigned and the BBC has apologised 'unreservedly'?
Okay, I understand it even if I don't like it. And I know that I'm far from the only one who will continue to have far greater faith in the BBC than I have in this (on indeed any) Government. But seeing the reactions to all these events of Blair and the increasingly oleaginous little clique with which he surrounds himself is beyond bearing.
I reached the point where I turned the news off. And I never do that.
And Speaking Of Treacherous....
Here's one: I'm sorry that I ever voted for your government Mr Blair. You make me ashamed to be a Labour supporter.
Clichés
I tend to try to avoid them, but I'm only human, and occasionally I succumb:
I had to drive this evening, and after the snow finally fell earlier, a lot of it had melted one the roads. But now it's freezing hard, and all the slush is turning to ice. And the roads are, I think I have to say, treacherous.
Accidental
On my way into work this morning I went past the scene of an accident. A motorcycle had come off the road and into the doorway of a shop, putting a dent in some security grilles. By the time I went past, there was no sign of the rider, or even an ambulance, but there was a scary amount of blood still pooled in the doorway.
I went past again at lunchtime and a cyclist had been knocked off his bike in almost the self-same location.
Most disturbing.
Five Votes
With a nominal majority of one hundred and sixty one.
Months after they started debating the issue, and after one of the most protracted and public wrangles since Tony Blair came to power, no matter what you think about the actual issue of tuition fees, I think we all need to note this: That a couple of weeks of apparently random concessions, interventions, and fudges is what was needed to get a Government Bill through its second reading with a nominal majority well into three figures.
Not exactly indicative of a government in control, is it?
Fair Point; Well Presented
"But former Labour minister Kate Hoey questioned how anyone could trust the government to keep this commitment when "we haven't actually kept the manifesto commitment" not to introduce the fees."
A Man Could Get Very Cross....
.... if this didn't turn out to be The Lord Of The Rings' year at The Oscars.
Still, eleven nominations is not bad for a start.
Update now I've perused the whole list - Best Actor: Johnny Depp in "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl"
Oh. My. God.
So....
....where's all this snow they were promising us then? It's not even that cold this morning.
Travelling Man
So, at this point, assuming he got away on time, Chris will have been in flight for just a little short of four hours. He's going to be in Australia and New Zealand for at least seven weeks, and may extend. I took him to the airport this morning, and it was a weird experience. We've seen each other off at plenty of airports in the almost-eleven years we've known each other, but this marks the start of the longest period we're not going to be seeing each other in that entire time. Even when I was working in New York, the longest gap between my trips back to the UK was only around six weeks, and he came out to see me along the way too.
It's remarkable how, even though we've been split up for a while now, the place we have in each other's lives is probably still best described by the word 'fixture'....
Conversational
Chris: I'll be setting off with her in a few minutes.
Me: Okay, buzz when you get here and I'll come down to help you with her and her stuff.
Chris: Okay, see you in a bit.
Me: Oh, and can you bring your keys to my place with you?
Chris: Ah. Good idea.
Me: Yes, it suddenly occured to me that it makes no sense for my emergency keys to my place to be in your place if my keys to your place are locked inside my place.
She's Heeeeere!
Yes, Dillon's in da house. And bigger than ever.
I've remarked before how she is a cat that gives the lie to all of that "Cats take a long time to settle if you move them to a new home" stuff. She's really remarkable in that way, but I think this trip may have set a new record. I think she'd been out of the box for about a minute at this point:
Oh Oh
Apologies for the ongoing silence. One of the things that's been occupying my time is preparing for Dillon's return to the flat after more than a year, which means putting anything that's claw-able out of the way and getting anything that will suffer unduly from black fur being shed all over it well out of the way.
She's arriving tomorrow evening, just before Chris, who's had custody for all this time, sets off on a couple of months of travelling in the Southern Hemisphere.
Snapshots Of A Bad Blogger
I admit it - I'm a bad man. I'm still not blogging properly. But I still don't have a machine of my own at home, and my blogging and surfing (with a view to blogging) time is consequently incredibly minimised.
But if I'm barely blogging at the moment, that's still better than I'm doing elsewhere. I had a message on Friday from Carlos, one of my Millarworld cronies, telling me that the gang at MW are woindering what's become of me.
I feel very bad about having dropped under their radar - all the stuff that's been going on in the last few months has really damaged a number of my online relationships.
I really hope that I manage to get back in synch with them soon.
Snapshots Of A Holiday: More Paradise
Found a couple of extra shots of Petit Saint Vincent - I forgot I changed memory stick while we were there. If anything, these are even better than the others.
Snapshots Of A Holiday: Harbourside
Quick one this time. Waiting to set off for Carriacou, I took a set of photos of the sweep of St George's harbour - one side of it anyway. It's a great harbour, with an additional lagoon at the south end.
Quick bit of stitching later (and spot the boat that moved - easier to see in the large version):
Snapshots Of A Holiday: Carriacou Triple Treat
Last Saturday, we'd decided to succumb to the temptation of an excursion. Having explored various parts of the island, we thought we'd like to get out on the water. Plus, the island of Grenada is only one of the parts of the country that is Grenada, Carriacou and Petite Martinique, and it seemed a good thing to visit at least one of the other parts. So we set up a trip to Carriacou with a boat trip out to Sandy Island for some snorkelling.
Subsequently, much confusion ensued between us and the tour people about exactly which of their Carriacou trips we actually wanted to go on. Sufficient confusion in fact, that even once we'd been picked up to be taken to the ferry, we weren't sure exactly which one we were going on.
In the end, I think we got the best option. The ferry ride from St George's to Carriacou's capital Hillsborough is around an hour and a half long, across the open Carribean. Plenty of opportunities for spotting flying fish, and even whales and dolphins at the right times. We were delayed docking in Hillsborough because of the fishermen who were blocking the jetty (it's another world), but once off, we went for a quick trip to the other side of the island for our first proper look at the rest of the Grenadines. (Geographical aside - there's a geographical concept called 'The Grenadines', of which Carriacou is the largest, and a country called St Vincent and The Grenadines, which politically encompasses most of the others.) Immediately around the closest few isalnds is a major reef, which creates a very still and clear area, which is where we were going to sail.
Still having odd expectations, and even though there were only six people in our little minivan, we somewhat expected that we'd be getting onto one of those catamaran things that every holiday resort seems to be full of these days. But no, Captain Brian took us out by motor boat to his 30-foot yacht, Cinderella, and we spent the rest of the day on what was to every intent and purpose, a private charter. He took us out under sail to anchor off Petit St Vincent, a private island with a by-all-accounts fantastic resort on it. We had lunch on board, swam, walked on the beaches, and generally acted like we were in paradise. And admit it, it does look pretty much like it:
Once we left there we moved on to Petite Martinique, and from there caught the ferry back to St George's. A pretty awesome day all told.
So Much For That Plan
The one to add some more holiday snapshots that is.
First day back at work and I'm already up to my eyes. I've spent all day and pretty much all evening working on a proposal that I have to get away to the recipient tomorrow to meet the deadline. And there's stacks more to go. Still, if it's not done by the end of the day then it'll have missed the deadline, so I should certainly be able to blog some stuff tomorrow evening.
Snapshots Of A Holiday: Baggage Claim
I always find myself frustrated by the tiny snippets of other people's lives that one catches part of during the course of a day. It's the same thing that drives a site like In Passing of course, but when I hear these things myself I just want to follow and get more information, or wish I'd picked up the conversation just a few minutes or seconds earlier. This is relevant.
The flight back last night was quite quick, courtesy of the tailwinds that, as headwinds, had delayed it arriving to pick us up, so I didn't get anything to speak of in the way of sleep. (I did watch Runaway Jury, however, which was surprisingly good, if completely different from the book.)
Slightly zonked, therefore, and waiting for the monitors finally to tell us where our cases would be delivered, I failed to tune into the conversation that was happening a few feet away until I suddenly heard the phrase "You've driven a wedge between us", spoken in some anger.
Turning, I saw a middle-aged man, quite short, frowning up at a much younger, taller, stocky guy - say about 20 year old, before stalking off back to a woman (assumption - his wife) standing just the other side of me. They proceed to mutter between themselves in some agitation.
I'm immediately intrigued. Has the young man been flirting with the wife? Having a holiday romance with her even? Or is it something more domestic?
Suddenly, the woman starts sniping at the younger man from one side of me, while he retaliates. I step out of the firing line, but remain quietly engrossed.
Younger man is their son. Some form of family row has marred the last hours of their holiday. She is accusing him of being selfish and immature. He is rather smugly holding on to the moral high ground by pointing out repeatedly that mature people don't use their fists. It seems that the mother has hit - the implication is actually punched - him during the course of the argument, and he won't let this go. The mother also turns her ire on the father, for allegedly siding with the son, or at least not supporting her sufficiently.
As the baggage carousel was finally specified, and the crowds moved purposefully away, I was left with that desperate wish that I could see both back into the row's origin and onwards to its continuation. Damn.
Maybe more snapshots tomorrow, and probably some actual snapshots too, when I get round to organising them. Right now, I'm very tired, and I need to get things ready for work....
Snapshots Of A Holiday: Radical Socialising
The resort we stayed in was very impressive, commanding a long strip of some of the best beach on the island, beautiful landscaped grounds, and quite a high comfort level. As with many others, it's opened itself up to the All-Inclusive industry. To be fair, it wasn't intrusively so, though you do get odd quirks, like there being a limit to how many refills of your tea you can have with breakfast (we didn't eat there much, just the first night and morning when we got there and it was too late or too early to explore), but it does neverthless never stop feeling like a resort - it's not just a hotel. So there's entertainment laid on in the lounge each evening, and organised volleyball each afternoon, stuff like that.
One evening quite early on - maybe Tuesday - we went for a late afternoon drink at the beach bar, and found ourselves drawn into conversation with one of the most confident, certainly the most social, people I've ever met. There with his wife and kids, he took part in everything, knew everyone, and acted as this kind of pole around which everyone else orbited, with him making a point of linking orbits as he thought appropriate. So we, 'the boys', were inevitably introduced to The Adventurous Lesbians (or 'the girls'), along with various others who were in residence. It was quite an amazing piece of work he did - his confidence could simply not be knocked, - I never saw him talk to someone and not know their name, including the staff.
I had a lot of admiration for both confidence and social skills, which were effortless, and certainly way better than my own, but his very appearance of being indefatiguable himself seemed somehow quite fatiguing to others occasionally.
Very nice family though, and quite an experience to have met.
Snapshots Of A Holiday: The American Monsters
We ate out at a very, very nice restaurant on Thursday night (this one, in fact).
The food was great, the location brilliant, the service friendly, and generally we've decided that the place ranks as one of our all-time favourite restaurants.
The one not-inconsiderable fly in the ointment though was the child from hell and his parents.
This little brat (age about ten I'd guess), having finished his food, went on a rampage all over the restaurant. He climbed on walls, jumped off them, threw things into the fish pond they have, behaved like the worst kind of hyperactive little bastard, and his parents and the other adult they were with just chatted among themselves, entirely disregarding him or the effect he was having on everyone else in the place.
I'm the least confrontational person imaginable, and I was so bloody close to saying something to them. They literally ignored this kid, even when he made occasional pitstops back at their table. I can almost understand why he seemed to be making such a bid for attention, because he clearly wasn't getting it from them.
Postscript - we went back there on Saturday night and without them in attendance had a brilliant meal that completely cemented the "one of the all-time favourites" status.
Snapshots Of A Holiday: The Adventurous Lesbians
So dubbed on day one, it turned out that they did in fact have names, and were a very nice couple indeed. But on day one, as we dutifully met our rep, they seemed a little daunting. Could we hire mountain bikes to explore the rainforest? Yes, you can go out for half day trips with a guide. But can we hire the bikes for a couple of days and explore ourselves? No, that's not allowed for. Is there horseriding available? Yes, from Mr (Can't Remember), who at the moment has one horse and one donkey, as his other horse died.
They were starting to sound quite horribly energetic. Though the odd thing was that every time we saw them they seemed to be hanging around the beach. On Saturday evening, chatting in the beach bar, one of them said that they felt very guilty that thet hadn't been anything like as active as we had, having not done much in the way of exploring. A few minutes later, the other mentioned that every day they'd played tennis, volleyball, been for a run and spent time in the gym.
People's defintion of 'active' clearly varies quite a bit.
Snapshots Of A Holiday: Some Numbers
Days of glorious Caribbean sun, broken only by the occasional (quite welcome) 30-second tropical shower: Seven.
Generous-portion-of-rum-based drinks consumed per day: Several.
Cocoa seeds observed being dried in the sun: Thousands.
Bars of resultant chocolate consumed: A surprising half of one.
Bars brought home: Three.
Inevitable mosquito bites: At least twenty.
Flying fish seen flying: Twenty to thirty.
Flying fish seen not flying, and on a plate: Eight.
Pieces of fish prepared and served by its captor on the deck of the boat from which he caught it: One.
Islands sailed to: Three.
Days spent navigating roadsign-free island by crazed combination of detailed OS map (useless) and giveaway tourist freebie (much more helpful): Three.
Occasions when four-wheel drive had to be engaged safely to navigate treacherous mountain-top rainforest road: Two.
Disused airport runway driven down: One.
"Wow" moments when exploring island on said days and encountering The Wonders of Nature(TM): Lost count.
Scary "Oh God we're in a disaster movie" moments you don't need to have when boarding a sea-going vessel: One.
Books read: Two.
Postcards sent: Five.
Hollywood celebrities confirmed to be on the island while we were there: One (no definitive confirmation of Jennifer accompanying).
Very good time had by all: One.
More stuff later.
Outta Here
Right - after a way more hectic day than I expected, I'm about ready to go off on holiday. So I'll leave you to enjoy the first week of the new year. I'll try to stop by for a quick update while I'm away, and James, who Guest Blogged when I was away last year, might also stop by - I've said he can if he'd like to but there's no pressure.
If I don't manage to update, I'll be back on Monday 12th, and in the meantime, feel free to pity me - doesn't this look horrible?
Anno Domini
So, this is 2004 then? Looks a lot like 2003 doesn't it?
I actually passed from 2003 into 2004 standing outside the familial front door, waiting to be the first foot in something approaching a blizzard. In fact, it was more sleet than snow, but it felt blizzard-like nevertheless. And it did at least feel seasonal.
I'm back in town for slightly less than 48 hours, which gives me just about enough time to do some washing, try to source some new contact lenses, do a bit of work, some sleeping, pack and generally get myself ready for a week in the sunshine. Well, I'm hoping that's what it'll be - the forecast looks a bit mixed, but what the hell - even if it's chucking down I can stay by the bar with a rum cocktail and a book.
