Breakfast, Boro and Breaking News

Just been in Greggs getting breakfast, and the mother in front of me was trying to control a cycle-helmeted toddler called Ludwig. Poor kid - he's definitely going to get bullied. Hell, if I wasn't so intent on buying pastries, I'd've taken time out of my day to bully him.

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On Monday, stood in glorious sunshine watching Stevenage Boro in the oh-so-exciting-I-might-burst first leg of the Conference play-offs semi, I was reminded what's so great about non-league football. It's the collecting of large numbers of people together for a single purpose. This purpose isn't cheering your team on, or anything so communal. It's all about crotchety individual old men shouting abuse at the players for ninety long, long minutes. Each of these old men should be spread equally round the ground to ensure maximum coverage, and each should have his own particular hobby-horse that he's flogging to death. One wizened old man would repeatedly shout (at not entirely appropriate points) 'GERRINVERBOX! GERRINVERBOX!', while others would comment loudly on the gingerness of certain players, the need to switch it and get it out wide, play it along the ground, for-god's-sake-clear-the-bloody-thing, etc. I was stood next to a pipe-smoker, who kept switching which side of his mouth the pipe was in according to the direction of play.

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And while we're on the subject, Sky have chosen the Boro game to be the one they show on Friday evening. That's my Friday evening sorted then. The only chance of getting me to go out would be if Jesus is coming to the pub. And he brings his dad.

The Grammys (sp?)

There are, at last count, more music awards than stars in the night sky, so I can be forgiven surely to god for not being aware who won the Grammys. I think it happened in February, but the website's a little short on such specifics, so we'll have to guess. What it's not short of is a list of who won the 47th Grammy Awards. For those of you frightened of following links, I provide a digest below.

Best Engineered Album, Classical
(An Engineer's Award. (Artist names appear in parenthesis.))

* Higdon: City Scape; Concerto For Orchestra
Jack Renner, engineer (Robert Spano)
[Telarc]

Best Polka Album
(Vocal or Instrumental.)

* Let's Kiss: 25th Anniversary Album
Brave Combo
[DenTone]

Best Surround Sound Album
(For vocal or instrumental albums. Albums only.)

* Genius Loves Company
Al Schmitt, surround mix engineer; Robert Hadley & Doug Sax, surround mastering
engineers; John Burk, Phil Ramone & Herbert Waltl, surround producers (Ray
Charles & Various Artists)
[Concord Records/Hear Music]

Best Spoken Word Album
(Narrated/dramatized books include authors' names in parenthesis for identification.)

* My Life
Bill Clinton
[Random House Audio]

Best Historical Shoegazing Album
(Vocal or Instrumental.)

* Loveless:
My Bloody Valentine
[Creation]

Best Album Made on a Thursday
(non-Classical.)

* Beautiful Intentions
Melanie C
[Absolute]

OK, so I did make up the last two, but how long was this ceremony? There's one hundred and seven awards! It's like that thing in school where there's a school awards night, but everyone gets an award, because everybody's special in some way. I'm going to stop soon before I sound like a Social Darwinist (no, not the sort who discuss evolution theories over canapés and red wine, smartarse), but I'll leave you with this thought:

Just how strong is the American polka-music lobby that they can get their own award into the Grammys? Does no-one else conisder this sinister? How high does this go? Is the president implicated?

Doctor Dictionary

Now, I don't know if you're familiar with this, but dictionary.com the quite useful online dictionary operates a facility where it emails a word to your inbox each day.

Now, I had been planning for a while to rant about How Doctor Dictionary Thinks You Are A Idiot because I was left with the impression that it was giving me butt-obvious words:

• jape: to jest.
• forlorn: sad and lonely because deserted, abandoned, or lost.
• forgo: to do without.
• fallible: liable to make a mistake.
• intrepid: fearless; bold.
• chortle: to utter, or express with, a snorting, exultant laugh or chuckle.
• cajole: to coax.

But I really had to look for those, so I'm doing the good Doctor an disservice. However, it never sends you a word you didn't know. Or if it does, you recognise it from context. Or it's a crap word, like popinjay. It's never sent a word that you've had the need to use, but just had the word available to you.

Well, yesterday, Doctor Dictionary did itself proud. Always wanted to say that something happens in the mornings? Eh? Well, all I can say is that my email arrived matutinally.

Maybe not as useful as I thought, but it struck me in the matutinal state I was in as a good word.

No, it's not going to catch on, is it?

Google Maps

The easily amused amongst you will have already visited google maps, which is like an unbelievably slick yellow pages genetically spliced with the A to Z.

It's good fun to play about with, but not having had the need to use it in anger, I don't know how well it works, but damn, it looks good. You can search for locations, and it gives quite clear maps, directions, or shops and services by typing 'pubs in stevenage' or 'shoes in basildon'.

Also, you can search for 'cock in london' if you're puerile. You get quite a lot of cock in London, if you know where to look.

Tongues

I don't know why, but I may just have this page in whatever language this is in future. I think it's Chinese, but I'm massively ignorant, so it could be anything really.Mistranslation courstesy of Yahoo.

Oh, it's yahoo.tw. That means Chinese, right? I spent too many geography lessons just colouring in maps and doing wordsearches.

Owls

I received a letter from the landlord of the cottage we're renting to go on holiday. Perfectly normal letter, thanking me for the deposit, telling me about local attractions, transport links, y'know. What struck me is that the envelope has a sticker on the front for the address featurning four owls staring dead-eyed out at me. The only thing it says is 'protect owls', as the owls stare accusatorially back at me. What? Stop staring at me! I haven't harmed any owls! (Recently!)

I hope this owl thing doesn't set the tone for the holiday. I hear Devon is full of them.

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Went to a very nice pub last night. There's a 'no mobiles' rule, and someone was made to leave the bar for answering their phone. Also, the bar is sunken, so when you buy a drink you loom over the bar staff like some kind of pint-ordering giant.

Uncle Jim and the Babies

A student yesterday went into one of the other offices in the building and asked for me by the name of 'Uncle Jim'. I like this, and would like to be referred to as 'Uncle Jim' from now on.

Until I get bored of it. But how likely is that?

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Now, newborn babies can breathe underwater, so last night D and I were pondering how long you could keep a baby underwater. He seems to recall a Russian scientist who worked with keeping premature babies in tanks, but the internet let us down and didn't come up with any information. Does anyone have any information on this?

Also information on where to get giant tanks, and those nice underwater reeds you get.

Also information on where babies come from.

Thanks.

The Adventures of My T-Shirt (Feat. Deadpan Conversations With Other Administrators)

OK, I just bought a new t-shirt. It's had an eventful life so far.

Yesterday. I was waiting in the pub for L, and decided to change into the new t-shirt I'd bought (treat, eh?). I'm on my own in the pub, so I turn to the nearest guy, who's half of one of those quite drunk older Soho couples getting to know each other, and ask him to watch my stuff while I go to the toilet. When I come back:

Bearded Older Guy Who Watched My Stuff: Oh, you were quick. I thought you were going for a wee, but you just changed your t-shirt.
Me: Yes. It's been a hard day at work. It's the next best thing to showering, you know.
BOGWWMS: Oh, I know.

Cut to this morning. I've applied deodourant, and waited for ages, and dabbed at my armpits with a towel, and put on my t-shirt really carefully, and still I get a white mark on my new t-shirt. I'm comforted in my anguish, and I wash it, and you can't see any mark, but still, my whole day is ruined.

This afternoon. I'm in an 'awayday', which is like a meeting, but lasts all day. Having listened to administrators moan like billy-o about everything, it's time for some biscuits. They have chocolate biscuits, which improves my mood. An administrator who I don't know, but who has a very thick Spanish accent comes over:

Thickly Accented Spanish Administrator: Oh. I have seen you before. I meant to say. You are wearing a brown top and a green t-shirt.
Me: Yes, I am.
TASA: That is very good. It looks good.
Me: Thank you.
TASA: This is not something you see on a British man. On a Spansih man: yes. On a French man: also. Perhaps on a German man. But not on a British man. But it is good. These are colours that are good. Brown is only bought here when it is in fashion.
Me: I like brown. I wear a lot of it.

What an exciting day my t-shirt has had!