Aircraft Pictures (ok, so one of them is a tank...)
Depending how observant you are, you might or might not have noticed the proliferation of photographs of models on the page below. These are all things I have built recently. There are others missing, including a Spitfire and a Subaru Impreza WRC, but I was going with those I have pictures of on the net. Just wanted to post them somewhere. Cheers.

Tornado ECR 'Tigermeet'

American M10 tank destroyer

Douglas A4 Skyhawk

Gloster Meteor F8

Sea Harrier FRS1 (no. 2)

Sea Harrier FRS1

Boeing 747-200, Qantas delivery scheme

Bristol Beaufighter Nightfighter

1/48th scale 208 Sqn. BAe Hawk T1, 90th Anniversary scheme

Formula 1 spying thingy
We've heard a lot about this story. Well, I say 'we'. I've heard a lot about this, and so have other people who follow motorsport. Anyway, my point (I think) is that we (I) have heard a lot about this story, bouncing backwards and forwards, and yet no-one has seemed all that keen to ask how Coughlan actually got hold of the Ferrari dossier. Has he gone from engineer to master sneak theif? I'm guessing that's fairly unlikely, especially as he got his wife to take it to a photocopying shop for him. Have Ferrari suddenly become so lax in their security that a designer from a rival team (indeed their main rival) can just walk into their garage and nick the thing? Somehow I suspect that this, too, is highly unlikely. So, how did it come into Coughlan's possession? I don't actually have the answer to that, in case you were hoping for some sort of revelation. I think something rather odd is going on. Still, makes Formula 1 more exciting, doesn't it?

I've finally drawn another Bates Street Comic, more than a year after everyone moved out.

Non-amusing dentist story which becomes amusing
This story isn't that funny, until you get to the last line. I won't spoil it for you, just read all the way to the bottom.

Bonkers bankers

I got a call from my bank this evening. At about half past eight. That's rude, quite frankly, but I suppose they thought I might be in. It was a customer satisfaction survey. I don't get the point of these myself, but I'm sure they tell the bank all sorts of fascinating things. Who knows?

Anyway, at one point they asked me to quantify, on a scale of 0 to 100, exactly how warm I feel my relationship with the bank is. How warm? I'm sorry, what was that? It's a bank, a financial institution. You're not meant to feel all warm and fuzzy about your relationship. They take the money, they hold the money, they give the money back when you ask for it. That is the entirety of the relationship I need to have with my bank.

I don't want it to take me down the pub once in a while and ask very earnest questions about my well-being over a rapidly warming pint. This is a service my bank does not need to provide. That is, in fact, what friends (and more importantly, wives) are for. I cannot take my bank to the cinema and then rave on about the film afterwards. I cannot laugh as my bank misses a really easy pool shot in the pub. I cannot, indeed, cheer in celebration with my bank as our favourite generic sports team wins again. These are things I cannot do with my bank.

My relationship with my bank, therefore, does not need to be ranked on a scale of 0 to 100 for warmth. It is a ridiculous concept which has no place in a serious satisfaction survey. Of course, me being me, I didn't tell the nice lady on the other end of the line that. I said "about 60", and then beat myself up for furnishing them with an answer.

I had thoughts about Adelaide, and my grandparents. Thomas is feeling melancholy.

Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink...

Was meant to be at the Waddington Air Show at the moment, but about a mile away from the airfield we were turned away. It's off due to the bad weather. I won't pretend I'm happy about getting up at 6:45am and sitting in the car for three hours all for nothing. There have been floods here in Sheffield over the last couple of weeks. It doesn't feel like summer.