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The letter...

Current mood: Happy


Discovery of the week...

...I was going to make a very profound point. So profound, that my mind has gone blank.

Oh well...

Galaxian - thanks Manboobs

Galaxian.
To the uninitiated, it's a tarted-up Space Invaders - but what a tarted up Space Invaders! Space Invaders did not get me to pester my Granny to death for 10p coins, oh no! Space Invaders did not put me on the slippery slope towards stealing from her purse to fund a habit! Nope, Glaxian led eventually to R-Type and then to my demise to becoming a pickpocket.
My forgotten guilt has returned!

Contact - Carl Sagan

I am finally getting round to posting book reviews from, oh, nearly a year ago...
Contact is the only novel written by Carl Sagan, who spent his academic career researching very difficult topics in astronomy and physics. "Oh great", I hear you say, "It's a geek's book..."
Actually... no. True, Sagan does explain some really difficult topics in very easy to understand terms. This can't really be avoided though, as the story's main character is an astronomer involved in deciphering the first message Earth recieves from space. Sadly for us, it's a relayed version of our own first high-powered transmission - The Berlin Olympics in 1936. Yep, what's it say for humanity that the first transmission we make that could be recieved Out There is of a load of people goose-stepping past Hitler?
This leads onto an encoded message, Ellie's own philosophical / spiritual journey, the journey of other people, and Sagan's reflections on the state of humanity.
It's really well written. Indeed, I wanted to applaud at the end. I was given it by a friend at Uni who I've lost touch with now - the book didn't do it for me in 1995 but in 2005, it was a brilliant, thoughtful, thought-provoking journey.

Snow Patrol: excitement turns to slush

A lesson to all would-be concertgoers out there:
Do not wait until 9.15am, Saturday to go to Ticketmaster to buy tickets for a popular concert that went on sale at 9.00am, Saturday.
If you do this, you will find the concert has sold out very quickly.
Indeed, if I go to Ebay right now and type "Snow Patrol Belfast" I can see why it sold out: the greedy swine who bought the tickets with the intent to sell them on Ebay for twice their face-value.

I'm happy for Snow Patrol - it's good to be popular. I'm happy for the people making a quick buck - but this gives me a problem - has anyone any other ideas for wifey's birthday present? Answers on a postcard...

Lessons for the week...

I have learnt three important things this week:
1 - Giving blood is good. The blood donation people give you a genuine feeling of being a good person.
2 - On Valentine's night, stopping to get a Chinese takeaway and a bottle of wine to share with your wife is good. We both enjoyed it.
3 - Doing (1), followed immediately by (2) is not good. Sharing a bottle of wine when lacking half a litre of blood has bad effects on your head.

Pink

Pink... pink like my little finger, poised to hit the enter key... now!
Pink like the chuuby cheeks on a newborn baby.
Pink like the packet containing prawn cocktail crisps that speak tender words of love from two feet away.
Pink like postage stamps used to be.
Pink like the spots on the wrapping paper sitting eight feet away.
Pink like one of my favourite shirts, though some might call it 'Salmon'.
Pink like a salmon's flesh, a noble creature giving its life to feed us so we can be...
Pink!

All in a day's work

Mike struggled at school for a variety of reasons. Mostly, it just bored him. He always enjoyed reading but the way his teachers presented their knowledge failed to stimulate him. His careers teachers did not have high aspirations for his chances of success. He was another waster of time; another waste of their time.
If only they could see him now.
Work, if you could call it that, was a great source of joy to Mike. It had taken him time to find a career he enjoyed but like many things in his life, once he found something that gave him satisfaction he pursued it with methodical thoroughness. The hours were light and the pay good, though he often put in longer than needed – just to make sure all details were attended to and customers were happy. He got to travel and in a strange way, had started to become famous in a way only understood by people in the same field. The general public had no idea who he was but he knew that would eventually come, much to his bemusement.
Mike sat down, sipping from a bottle of mineral water. It was his routine: before starting he would drink around half a pint of water and then assemble his equipment. He would eat a banana, finish the water and work would commence.
It was a bright spring morning with not a hint of breeze. He could feel the warmth of the air in direct comparison to the chill of a few weeks before and offered a silent prayer, thanking God for the renewing of nature after a harsh winter. Outside work was easier in good weather. Sometimes he had to work inside, though he found it too claustrophobic.
He reached into a holdall, removing equipment that looked like simple pipes and pumps to any onlooker. Like the skilled craftsman he was, Mike put them together quickly. There was no cold to force his hands to numbly seize up. He went through his mental checklist: everything was in place.
A check of the watch: 9.10am. He made the mental note that traffic would be easing and slowly stood up to survey the world. He hated this part: stuck on a rooftop hundreds of feet up and getting cramp, waiting for wind to make life difficult. Today, nobody could see him: he was on the highest building and could see for miles but he knew nobody would think of looking up. Peace to get on with the job in hand. Sometimes Mike wondered about his customers' lives but generally got on with what he was paid to do. Go in, do the job, go home. Easy money and job satisfaction: what more would you want.
The time, 9.17 was carefully etched in his mind. It was now 9.12 and Mike flicked through the paper, denouncing useless politicians who failed to mop up common criminals and general scum. It was 9.15: better stop messing round and get to action. Another sip of water.
Mike lifted the tools of his trade carefully, admiring the craftsmanship of another man. Metal gleamed in the rising sun as Mike took up his tools carefully.
Somewhere below, at 9.17, every weekday, Jack Williamson exited the Mirror-Life Insurance building, where he was a company director and walked across the road to a small bakery. This had been his routine for thirty years since he joined the firm. His pay and stature had gained but May's bakery still made the best scones in town. When the price went up he complained, as he had done for thirty years and May still gave him his scone for free on Friday simply because he was once penniless and she took pity on him and the habit remained.
She was due to retire and he planned to buy the business, lest it become a Starbucks or McDonalds.
Jack and Mike had never met and never would. For two months though, Mike had been watching Jack: perfect preparation. Mike did not know who had hired him and liked it that way. He did not know why his services were needed, not did he particularly care - he had a lovely house to pay for and a lovely wife who made a wonderful home while studying with the Open University.
At two seconds past 9.17, Jack left the building, right on cue. Two seconds later, Jack collapsed, thinking he was having a heart attack. A lady screamed and the pool of red, warm liquid pouring from his chest was enough for Jack to realise this was no heart attack. His last thought was "Why?" The screaming lady fainted.
Ten minutes later, a man who appeared to be on his way to the gym walked past and even held traffic up to let the ambulance through. He placed an empty bottle and a banana-skin in a street-bin: he could not stand litter. Walking on, he congratulated himself on a good day's work. Passing a Travel Agent, he picked up some brochures: time to surprise his wife with a cruise.

Weird...

For the first time in several years I have just checked my email and... no spam! Twenty four hours without spam. No junk. Some real email but no junk. I feel a strange sense of release.

Current mood: Happy