The joys of travel

Am on a First Great Western train on the way to London, ready to start my "World Wide Trip (TM)" and the fun has started already.

Just back from the buffet car where they have a bizarre take on a menu.
Mot of the usual suspects (panini, sandwiches, baps and so forth) are all there, but they have also decided to offer some 'real food'. Worried that just naming the things they offer might not sell it in strongly enough to the trapped-masses, FGW have decided to create a named range of items. These include:


Look what we found! Chili con carne
Look what we found! Mushroom Stroganoff.


What ghastly meeting were those names cooked up in?

Where did you find it? Why did you decide to try and sell it to me as food?
Why does the fact that you found it, presumably whilst looking for something else, mark it out as being nicer and worth the money than if you had cooked it?
Very odd.

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One would think that the benefit of travelling in first class would be less irritation by one's fellow passengers (plus the ability to use the word one twice in one sentence - oh god, I can't stop!). Behind me are a couple with a child but amazingly, the child isn't the irritant. It's the bloody mother! One of those people who are very much set on Transmit, she is also, it would seem, set on infinite loop.

There was a problem with the hot water when I got on, which means that the buffet car couldn't give hot drinks. End. of. the. fucking. world. apparently.
"Oh David, I can't survive without my coffee". One can only hope.


Sadly service has now been restored and she has indeed had her coffee.
Score one for her, zero for the rest of the carriage.


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Great story in the Times today about Charlotte Green getting a fit of the giggles during the news yesterday morning on Radio 4. What tickled me most was the last time this happened to her: it was when having to read out the name of Papua New Guinea's Chief of Staff - Jack Tuat.

Read more less quickly

I tend to scan papers etc very quickly, probably due to years of surfing on-line.
This isn't really a boast, as I often end up reading the headline wrong.

This morning I misread "Court awards grieving mum" as "Court awards chewing gum" which seemed odd to say the least.

And now on the front of the times online, when I read the headline "Cardinal Keith O’Brien attacks embryo Bill", my first thought was "what kind of weird nickname is Embryo Bill?"

Tech lust

In preparation for my trip away, I have just bought a stupidly expensive piece of tech-candy - the new ipod touch.

Sweet jiminiy-cricket.

Even the packaging is lovely. I've yet to get a protective case for it so I'm just using it as is - it is ridiculously thin and groovy.

Yummy.

Never forget the first rule of fixing technology

I have a motorola razr phone. It's very pretty, but it does have a tendency to stop working periodically.
It completely died a few years ago, helpfully in the middle of the worst snow Cornwall had seen for a few years and this meant I was stuck in Truro with no way of calling anyone, so had to walk 3 miles to a friend's house on the off-chance that they were in.

It also sometimes won't turn on, or display anything on the screen.
It's been blank now for a day or so.
I tried all the usual things - make sure it's fully charged, take the battery out for a day and so on.
Finally I happened across the solution in a forum somewhere, so I record it here for anyone else having problems:

Put the phone on it's side and twat it one.

Bingo!

Movie Meme - answers

1. "I've got a bastard behind the eyes."
>> Withnail and I

2. "Just what this country needs: a cock, in a frock, on a rock."
>> Priscilla, Queen of the Desert

3. "Are you, indeed, yes, heavens."
>> Gosford Park

4. "If I was going to kill you Ed, I'd use my hands."
>> Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistlestop Cafe

5. "I'm not dead Cheryl."
>> Muriels' Wedding

6. "I've got my happy face on Les!"
>> Strictly Ballroom (spotting a movie theme so far?)

7. "Good lord honey, you didn't even achieve penetration with the elephant gun."
>> Tremors

8. "Can I get any of you cunts a drink?"
>> Shaun of the Dead

9. "You can't make an omellete without breaking eggs. Any cook will tell you that."
"Yes, but look what happened to the cook!"
>> Clue

10. "OK let's call things by their realy names: dentifrice, vagina and sour-fucking-grapes."
>> The Oppposite of Sex

Don't read this, Attention: don't read this!

I've just been out for a nice long lunch with a friend.
She's hired a very swanky motor whilst her car is in for repair. A very swish, all bells and whistles Merc.

My favourite part is the console screen in the middle of the dashboard. It's usually covered by a "nothing here, nothing to see, don't break into the car" flap, but as we were driving along, I pressed the button that revealed the screen.

Ever safety conscious, the screen then starts flashing a brightly coloured message, along the lines of

"Don't be distracted by this screen whilst driving"

All it really needed to add was some kind of klaxon or flashing lights in the head-rests.

Who does she think she is, Oliver or Nancy?

Either someone is having a big laugh at the BBC, or any day now a top executive will be sat in their office silently mouthing the words "Oliver... Nancy" when a burning light bulb of realisation will ping on and they'll feel all of the blood drain into their stomach.

In the meantime, double-entendre abounds.

From the latest programme info pack, summing up the series, there is this gorgeous quote:

"In time-honoured tradition, the Nancys will be vying to make their mark on Andrew and the panel and, from programme three, will also need to gain viewers' support to stay in with a chance of winning the coveted role of Nancy in the West End."

There's also the mention of attending Nancy school. Fried gold.

Water idiot

An article in the telegraph today about an idiot back packer in Australia who was surprised to find that crocodiles aren't all cuddly and friendly after all.
read and see photos.

My favourite photo, I think, is the one at the end with the eejit and his mate at the end, looking a bit grave and serious.

Twats.

Bad weather

I wonder what it is that makes bad weather so appealing?

There is absolutely nothing I love more than when it is absolutely whamming it down with rain, hail, sleet or snow. For preference I'll be inside with a cup of tea, or a glass of wine, and the option of reading a good book or watching a number of episodes of The West Wing. But I also really like to be out for a good walk in appalling weather as well.

Last weekend I made it out to Godrevy, along with my sister, to walk along the beach in an absolute hoolie. Coat on, hood up, gloves on. Rain coming in almost horizontally. Freezing cold. Bloody loved it.

Possibly only loved it because I knew a central-heated house, cup of tea, slice of toast and the Sunday papers were only a 10-minute drive away, but still.

It's always been like this. As children the only only time you could get either of us to leave the house was in the middle of a storm or a blizzard.


It's been hailing here most of the evening, on and off. Occasionally it's been so loud I can't here the telly, and I've gone and stood by the kitchen door, the top half of the stable door open. Grinning like a twat.

I'm now at my desk writing a proposal for a job I really want to get. I'd really rather be in bed about now, but the fact that I can hear the rain beating outside my window is making it (almost) seem OK.