Words of the Day: "I'm ok, tho', I have a seat in the sun and a tree to talk to about the people going by..."
I was leafing through some old papers (looking for some new paper) when I came across this. I was lost, in Leeds, when I was meant to be in a practical. Ok, perhaps not entirely lost, because I knew exactly where I was. I just didn't happen to know where I was meant to be, so I ended up sitting under a tree in a courtyard waiting to bump into someone I knew. I also drew, and wrote a few other things, and invented a pH cycler to test part of the work I hadn't (and still haven't really) started on my PhD. Then it was stuck at the back of my pad of paper and pretty much forgotten about until now.
I do this a lot. I'm a great one for doodling, and writing random crap down. I have books full of the stuff. Seriously. I'm not a good doodler, though. Some people create great works of art whilst their mind is on a lecture or something equally distracting. I don't. My best work is created when I sit down over a number of days and plug away at something. That's not to suggest it ever reaches a particularly high standard, but I'm much better when I get the chance to go back and look at what I did wrong. That, of course, only applies to drawing and painting. When it comes to writing, I have to rattle off as much as I can before my fingers go numb, and then hope I can remember where I was in the story when i come back ot it three weeks later.
Lots of people walked past me that day. Some took absolutely no notice at all, whilst others stared intently, as if it were strange to be sitting under a tree, turning a six million year old fosilised shark tooth over in my hands (honestly). Some stole furtive glances, others stared brazenly, openly, as if challenging me to stare back. I did, most of the time, when I wasn't writing strange things down. There's a lyric which always comes to me when I'm sitting in the sun on my own. It's from the Chili Peppers track Scar Tissue, and it goes, "with the birds I'll share this lonely view". I don't know why, but it pops into my head uninvited, and there it usually resides until I write it down somewhere. Puts me in mind of a Californian hill-top, bathed in golden afternoon sunshine, with a few gnarled bushes, their shape wrought by the wind. And around me, hopping about and poking their beaks into the dusty ground, little finch-like birds chatter away to each other, unalarmed by my presence. Sometimes I wonder if that place exists, then I kick myself. Of course it exists, I've been there. And it's bloody lovely, I can tell you, especially with the sun setting over the ocean.
Going to get the opportunity for a bit of an adventure this weekend - I'm going out on my bike on my own, which gives me the opportunity to ramble around a bit. I'd usually go out with jen, but I don't think she shares my enthusiasm for particularly steep, rutted paths, so we tend to stick to speedy singletrack. Don't get me wrong, I love singletrack, but after having spent years on stupidly steep hills at home (on top of the North Downs) I miss the hard slog of a first gear, standing-on-the-pedals kind of climb, so I'm very tempted to try to find some out in the Peak District. Weather permitting, of course - after a week of sunshine, we're promised rain. D'oh.
If I seem obsessed with weather, it's because I am. It's that North Downs thing again. I grew up in a community where a light flurry of snow reported in London would mean five feet where we were, and on a few memorable occasions complete isolation from the outside world. But it wasn't all bad - a warm sunny day in London (the nearest big city, in case you were wondering about the comparisons) would mean a sweltering heat-wave on our little chalk outcrop. It was splendid isolation, that place. Although I've come away complaining about never having people my own age to grow up with, not all is negative, by some distance. For a boy fascinated by nature, it was a wonderland, full of thick, dark forests and every kind of creature you'd expect. I entertained fantasies in my young mind that the hills might even harbour big cats, lost or escaped from some zoo, roaming the land and occasinally snatching a sheep or a calf. I don't think there are any big cats out there, but you never know. What there was a lot of was time, to sit and reflect, to come to terms with nature. To be fair, nature doesn't take a ot of coming to terms with, but it is a wonderful thing to be connected to. I hate cities - I'm in one right now, but it happens to be the greenest per square metre in England, or something like that. Up on the chalk, I always felt connected to something a bit wider. Terry Pratchett has written a couple of books for children recently, centring on a character who lives on chalk, and I feel sure he must have had the same experience, because somehow he knows what it's like. If you want that feeling, read the books about Tiffany Aching, 'The Wee Free Men' and 'A Hat Full of Sky'. If you know the feeling, read them anyway. And if you've already read them, well you'll just have to think up something to do instead...
By the way, while I'm here, bit of a recommendation - if you've ever heard any Ben Folds stuff and liked it, make sure to get your hands on a copy of his live album, preferably with the bonus DVD. It's great, especially where he directs the crowd as they valiantly attempt to fill in for the saxophones and trumpets on 'Army'. Amazon do it for about £12, which is a bargain. I made jen listen to, and watch it, last night. I don't think she was quite as enthusiastic about it as I was...

Words of the Day: why isn't it here yet?
I ordered a comic book from the internet. Sorry, a 'graphic novel'. Not my average purchase, however it is the Thundercats, which makes all the difference. I was expecting it to turn up a couple of days later, perhaps, especially since I was being charged for some ridiculous insured special delivery business. It didn't turn up... This morning, nine days after placing the order, I decided to ring the company in question and see what's up. To my unending surprise and annoyance, it turns out that they're based about 15 minutes (on a good day, no traffic) from my house, in a big shopping centre I regularly visit. This, of course, raises two pertinent issues: (i) why didn't they tell me on the webiste that they have a wonderful shop I could visit, which just so happens to be nearby, and (ii) why has the thing taken so bloody long to get here?!?! I'm not, by nature, prone to exclamation marks (for two reasons...), but I felt that needed a couple dotted around the question marks. This happens more and more on the internet - quite often you can only actually buy things by going to a shop's website, because when you go in, they're out of stock; every item has been sold on the web. It's also brings to mind the experience jen once had when buying me a Prodigy poster from the internet (the photo from the cover of Fat of the Land) - she ended up going to a German company and getting it shipped over. Lo and behold, when I looked closely, I discovered that it had been printed by GB Posters of Sheffield, England. Ten minutes away at the most, and the thing had been shipped out to Germany and back, and we had to drive to a depot half an hour away to pick the thing up! It makes me want to swear, it really does.
And the conclusion of the phonecall? Nothing, nada, zip. Their system is offline at the moment - "essential maintenance" - and they can't tell me what happened to the order. I'll have to ring back after lunch. Bugger!

Words of the Day: long time missing
After making several quiet promises to myself, and several more vocal ones to the computer, I've been sadly neglectful of the needs of the blog. It's lifeblood, it's source, it's river has dried in the last month and a half, unfed as it has been by my lazy, lazy fingers.
Lots of little things have caught my attention today. Like the fact that there's a lot of grime in the back of my watch, which really is disgusting since it must be composed almost entirely of sweat and skin flakes. Can you say "mmm, delicious"?
The park is a wonderful thing at the moment. I have a habit of wandering through in the morning and forgetting about everything else. If only I'd realised this affinity at an earlier age I would have shown no aptitude at school so I could have worked in a national park or something without feeling guilty about not being in science or technology. The longer I stay here, the more trapped I become by science. I hate the thought I might end up like some of the people here. Really, it's a seriously unpleasant thought.
Had a surprisingly nice weekend, mostly because I thought it might end up a bit weird, but was in fact remarkably pleasant. My girlfriend's nephew was with us for Saturday night, which is an educational experience. But what is undeniable is quite how cute the kid is. And heavy. Wasn't expecting an eight month old baby to be that heavy, though I shouldn't be surprised that my perceptions of such things are slightly skewed, since I'm not by nature a small-person person, if you see what I mean. Anyway, apart from a painfully embarassing salad dressing incident (my bad...) the whole experience went off quite well.
I'd love to tell you that the weather is a pleasant 18 degrees outside (Celsius! I know this is England, but it's not that cold), and sunny, and there's hardly a cloud in the sky, but I can't. Mainly because it's actually about 22, and verrrrry sunny. Ha! I love the sun. How have I survived in this country for so long with such a love of the sun?
I've been gardening lately, too. There's a whole new lawn in the back garden, which is nice. Still needs to do a lot more growing before it's useful, but that shouldn't be too long now considering the way it's shot up the past few days. I do need to remember to water it, though, because I have a feeling the ground is very very dry out there.
Other than all that stuff, not a lot's hapening. The tattoo place I was going to go to shut down, so no chance there. I have the basis of a really cool design in my head, bit it'll need a little more thinking about, and a lot more approval from jen. I don't think she was highly impressed by the idea, which is a bad sign. I keep telling myself she'll come round to the idea, but that may be a little too much to ask. Good thing I value her opinion and willingly subject my ideas to scrutiny, or I might think this was an entirely unfair situation... :)

busy busy busy

Yes, you guessed it, I jinxed the weather. It's f***ing miserable out there, and I did it, because I dared to suggest that spring was a possibility. Bugger...

Words of the Day: third time lucky?
I've said it before (twice, indeed) but it really does look as though spring is well and truly upon us. Flowers out, squirrels running about, that sort of thing. I've not worn a coat down to my office for the last few days, which have been almost warm at times.
Excitement for me this morning consisted of waiting by the departmental printer for half an hour while someone printed out junk. I mean, literally, junk - have you ever sent a postscript file to a non-postscript printer (do you even know what I'm talking about?)? It just sent a whole load of symbols, which whilst looking rather cool on the page, aren't really all that useful to anyone. Finally got the two pieces of paper I wanted printing. I could have traced the graphs off my screen quicker than that.
The painting I said I was starting started, then stopped rather abruptly. Interesting in concept, not so in execution. I don't think it's worth the effort continuing, and even if it is finished, I'm pretty sure I don't want it being displayed. It's just not very good. I'm disappointed, because it could have been great, I think. Just didn't turn out that way.
Gone back to writing books instead, or to be a little more accurate, re-writing. I've started editing my first book again, which was a project I effectively laid to rest over a year ago. Time and some reading have shown me the errors of my ways, and so it is being mercilessly ripped apart and reinvented. The story is the same, after all that was always it s strongest aspect, but the writing was awful, and had to go. Some of the dialogue is so childish it makes you wonder if I knew what I was writing at the time. I've learned since that fantasy doesn't have to be all about mysterious things, and that people can be imperfect in these books, and there doesn't have to be that much more to people than you see. Of course, some characters have to be special, otherwise you'd struggle to keep an audience, but not everyone has to have a secret past filled with heroic ancestors. It is this I have learned. I'm hoping the new version of the book, which is almost an entire re-write, will pass muster with family and friends, who were clearly only being polite when they said it was good the first time around. Evolution three is on its way, and this time there will be no mercy. Or crap passages. Or blatant falsehoods (sometimes I can't remember what I've written a few paragraphs before). I've even got a strong idea of another book for the series which details some of the politics going on several years prior to the events in this one. Still, that'll never happen if I don't get this one finished first.
And the printer's not working again...

Scientists make a butterfly glow
This is insane, but rather amusing...

Words of the Day: wrong...again....
Whoever controls the weather around here has been reading my blog, I think. It snowed yesterday, and it's genuinely struggling to get far above freezing today. I don't think I'll commit to Spring for another few months now, just in case the weather turns AGAIN.
One thing I have noticed is that all the Twix bars from the Union shop here at the University have a best before date of my 25th birthday. I think it's a sign. Not entirely sure what it's a sign of, but it's some kind of omen.

Words of the Day: I can see clearly now the rain has gone...
I may have been a little over-enthusiastic about the whole spring thing. Actually, a lot over-enthusiastic. It snowed a little bit, quite a lot in some areas of the country. But this time I think it may really be happening. The sun's out, the weather's relatively warm, and there are a lot of ducks swimming around in the ponds on the way to work. This might well be 'it'.
Beyond that, I have little to say for myself, other than to inform you (like anyone reads this) that I have decided to take on the biggest piece of artwork I've ever attempted. I'm a small page kind of artist - I do clever little things with sharp pencils on thin paper, and stick them in my portfolio thing. At a stretch, I'll dabble with CGI, watercolours and sometimes some acrylic on canvas. Nothing much beyong about A3 size. I've done two large things in my life. Two. One of those was such a spectacular failure that was binned almost as soon as it was finished. A great concept, a horribly flawed execution. The second was something a little out of left field. I built a table - large and functional, and decided that it needed livening up a little. Thus, I took one of my favourite images, the eyes and patterning thereabouts of a jaguar cub, and translated them to one half of the table. I would estimate the picture at about 3ft by 2ft. Not massive, by anyone's standards, except for that bloke who makes sculptures on the head of a pin. But, until now, I have not even considered something massive. Ok, so that's not 100% true, but I've never actually sat down and started planning the thing. Last night I did sit down, and I started planning something big. Many of you will be familiar with the painting Whaam! by Roy Lichtenstein, possibly the greatest proponent of the pop art movement (and before you start screaming Andy Warhol, have a look at what Lichtenstein did and see if you still disagree). It's pretty much his most famous work, and has been a favourite of mine for some years. There's some horribly simple about the piece - it's both adult and childish at the same time, dealing with the horror of war in a cartoon strip. I've decided this would be the perfect large project work for me to attempt. The original is 269cm wide, 172 high, and I'm seriously tempted to paint it at full scale. Very handily, Lichtenstein painted his original on two canvasses, which means I don't have to try to find a single canvas big enough. I'll let you know how I get on...

Boro Win the Cup
128 years. One hundred and twenty eight years. Try thinking Grosse Point Blank, the bit where Martin Blank's best friend Paul is driving him around in the beemer and suddenly shouts 'TEN YEARS!', only multiply that by 12.8 times. 128 years Middlesbrough FC have existed - bar the small break in the mid-80s - and they have just won their first ever major trophy. I've only been a supporter for a relatively short period in comparison - about the last 20 years, give or take - and yet already I know the pain of the long wait, and now the sweet relief that follows that barren time, like the first joyous rains on the Serengeti after a long, hot, dry summer. During the mid-90s we had a spate of cup final appearances, in both the league and FA cups, and yet came away utterly empty-handed. Not this time, however. Not this time. I won't bore you with the details - after all, you're a web user, you know how to find these things - and nor will I regale you with tired arguments over this controversy and that controversy. Bolton did fight well, and perhaps might have been luckier, but even the Bolton manager Sam Allardyce admitted that his team were outplayed in the second half. Middlesbrough won the match, and deservedly so. Middlesbrough won the cup. And deservedly so...