[Projoy] I never understood what Tag Wrestling is all about - can you explain to me please.
And ... bye bye you lovely people ... I shan't be around for quite a long time but hope to have lots of news when I get back :-)
Should also point out that I'll be in an Manchester-Edinburgh limbo for the next week, and net access may be rather more patchy as I haven't got round even to arranging old-fashioned telephone communications technology at the new abode yet.
Let me however try to give me a feel for why Peel was a much-loved figure in music. First, he's been on the modern (Beatles onwards) pop music scene for as long as that scene existed - in fact he used his Liverpudlian connection to get himself a job in the States on the back of the Beatles' success at the start of his career. He genuinely seemed to love all music that had been created with a passion, right from Belgian nosebleed noisethrash mp3s through to jazz standards recorded on crackly 78's. His Radio 1 programme would typically showcase both of these and everything inbetweeen. His links were usually extremely witty and peppered with little anecdotes about the band whose music he'd played, or some little story about how he came about purchasing that particular bit of green vinyl from a backstreet record shop in Groningen. Even as he was starting to draw a pension, he was still producing two hour shows three times a week. The consequences are severalfold: (i) he gave people who tired of the formulaic easy-listening pap that makes up most of a radio station's playlist a refuge where something more challenging could be found (but without taking it too seriously like what more eclectic programmes on R3 do); (ii) this exposure to a wider range of music (such as, I understand the DIY ethos of the punk movement) inspired many people to start making music themselves (see the tributes passim); (iii) it also gave budding musicians something to aspire to, viz getting Peel to give them a session and help get them noticed (if they were any good); (iv) it also created the impression that he would always be there, one of the reasons why he is sorely missed.
It's impossible to know how different the pop music tapestry would be without him; but I think it's wholly appropriate that he should be saluted for having made a huge contribution to the particular way it came to be woven. I think that's what people mean when they say he's a 'great of music'.
But what I'm really listening to is the sound of my going up the wall as the local anaesthetic from my dentist's visit wears off and my gums itch and my teeth hurt. Aargh!
Back to your regularly scheduled programme.
There is the additional worry that if this broom handle pounding is performed that you will be providing a readily accessible spiked club with which one might be, how shall I put it, persuaded of the error of one's ways by an irate spouse, partner, or owner of said hardwood floor, so maybe we should just be content with the one hat after all.
Double-glazing salesperson: "I just want to ask you - if you could have any room in your house double-glazed for free, which would it be?
Self: "None of them, but thanks for calling." [Click]
Financial services salesperson: "Do you have a couple of minutes to take part in a customer survey?
Self: "No, but thanks for calling." [Click]
Door to door religious salesperson: "Can I interest you in the word of the Lord?
Self: "No, but thanks for stopping by." [Click]
I find that the little gesture of politeness catches them momentarily off their guard and enables you to put the phone down or close the door with a clear conscience and without leaving an opportunity for comeback.
Meanwhile, I wish the person calling the phone in the next office would get used to the idea there's nobody there...
However, he lacked (1) the same middle name as me, and more importantly (2) the ability to learn something such as Chopin's Polonaise in A flat in less than a week, be able to hack the second half of Rachmaninov's cello sonata in four days or - as happened today - when accompanying a baroque-music oboe class in which the student was playing on a modern instrument and the teacher on a Baroque instrument which was tuned a semitone flatter - to sight-read the same piece both in the original A minor and transposed into A flat minor, switching between them every two minutes depending on which one of the two was playing which instrument at the time.
Which is why I make a reasonably survivable living that pays the bills and mortgage working freelance at the RNCM: whereas he gave up the piano completely, went to study law, and had two houses and no mortgages within the first four years after completing his studies... *sigh*
[pen] May I assure you that my gussets are always lemon-fresh.
But what's going on here? Why was the Tag Wrestling just killed like that instead of having another round? Why are other games that should have been killed twenty years ago still limping on with festering wounds and a slightly disgusting smell? Why do I bother?
It's actually quite interesting.
Does anyone fancy revisiting Animal/Vegetable/Mineral/Abstract?
(It also helps if you kill off everyone who actively opposes the sort of thing you like.)
It became fashionable as a jazz instrument in the Berlin salons of the 1920s, because of its resolutely unmelodious nature in all but the most skilled of hands (just like, say, the double bass) but mostly because it could be eaten in extremity (very much unlike, say, the double bass).
Oh well.
There you have it a colourised experimental game. If play becomes fraught it will make way for something else. Is there a point? After watching Paul Burrel eat a kangaroo’s testicle … probably not.
[The Spirit of Winter]
Bring on your frosts of spectre-grey, your frozen leaves and skies of dun! The weakening eye of day can never chill; for friendship doth not turn cold when that warm heart that beats deep within fires the furnace of goodwill. Thus shall this community seek the warmth of its homely hearth whilst the dregs of winter's spirit is humbled ...
Bah! I enjoyed that poetic exchange and would have happily crossed further swords with the 'spirit', teetering, as we were, on the brink of yet another 'Winter versus Summer Debate'.
So the follow-up disappointed somewhat, whilst bringing to mind Wot Dan Said in MCiOS a couple of weeks back [and I paraphrase] - anonymous posting by regulars is relatively harmless fun ... however, if the post is directed at a named person, perhaps it's fairer not to hide behind the cloak of anonymity?
*throws down gauntlet in the spirit of goodwill* :-)
On the weekend we went out and bought our Christmas tree. After I had put on the lights it was for the boys to hang the decorations on the tree. Francis, likes to let Owen know the benefits of being his big brother, as frequently as possible. Putting baubles on the tree he was able to put his extra height to advantage “…and another one up here, and this one can go near the top over here…”. Being the uneven handed dad I am I helped Owen put a couple at the same height to end that bit of squabbling. Which left Tom the toddler, who with a little bit of help was able to put the fairy on top and with the highest bauble. The finished tree looks wonderful.
I expect I'll be buggering off home shortly. The flu didn't come in the end; however, a (potentially nasty) ear infection did. The nice doctor gave me enough antibiotics to kill a horse and it seems to be clearing. Won't be until Christmas Eve till I get the full all-clear (and, with luck, internet access from home) so I'm not in the most joyful and triumphant mood just now. Heigh-ho.
*exits jingling bells*
Merry Christmas, One and All. I'll pop my head round the door from Edinburgh the next couple of days, before shooting down south to see the family. This would be Total Holiday if it weren't for the fact I should really apply for a permanent job that's come up and that has a deadline in January.
Arriving back from more drinks in time to see Mr Bean. I was knocked out of my revellry my the pictures from Sri Lanka on the ITV News. The incredible devastation of this Act of God, visited on so many thousands, has taken my own jollity of celebrating the birth of the Son of God seem hollow. Tonight I am restless, trying not to think.
The plan was to have a quiet couple of days with the immediate family at my brother's house, taking a short trip down the road to have lunch with my Grandparents, Uncle and Aunt. To begin with, I was unsure as to whether I'd be able to go down south as my doctor had muttered something about the possibility of needing some mildly urgent surgery if the drugs she gave me didn't do what they were supposed to do. Luckily, the drugs did and I very nearly managed to avoid hospitals for the duration.
Unfortunately, Grandma was admitted a few days before Christmas, needing (I believe) a minor repair to her leg. So we went and chatted to her, and she seemed ok, if a little pissed off and bored. (This exacerbated by the fact that the women's magazines in the hospital shop were deemed by her 'pornographic'. She has a point.) I presented her with a gift of stationery that she had asked for, presumably so she could continue to compose her wacky free-form-jazz letters from time to time, which I said I enjoyed receiving (which much is true).
We then ambled across to her house where Grandad and the Aunt and Uncle were in situ for the second (of three) Christmas meals. This was all very jolly: Grandad's not entirely compos-mentis these days, but still tells a funny story or two. Unfortunately we had to break up the party atmosphere by taking him to a care home (he's not compos-mentis enough to be able to look after himself when Grandma's away). I can't say I felt entirely at ease with all the incumbents of the institution, but I suppose that's the way these places are. And I'm sure Grandad knows how to fend off the advances of dotty old ladies. Anyway, apart from some hoo-hah about medication and managing to kill a kamikaze deer that ran into the car on the way, this all passed off smoothly. We all, apart from my father (who was driving) slept in the car on the way home.
Understandably, Dad needs an early night. And what does he do, but trip on the stair leading into the bathroom and need taking to Casualty? He returns two hours later with his foot in plaster and hobbling about on crutches. To add excitement to the proceedings, my brother lives in a Victorian house where the loo is downstairs and the sleeping quarters up...
I learnt today that sadly, I shall not be receiving any more of Grandma's trademark letters on account of her passing away this morning. I'm told it happened as quickly and as peacefully as one can hope for once they realised the treatment she was on wasn't working and there was nothing more that could be done.
On the other hand, er: 'You made 2 connections during October. Total time on-line was 17 days 23:28:28s, during which time 9.990 GB were transferred.' and 'You made 1 connections during September. Total time on-line was 38 days 4:43s, during which time 4.784 GB were transferred.' I was a very heavy BitTorrent user around that time, though.
< mode=sarcastic > and yes, there really is a Chat Game on this server - you're reading it now < /s>
We are not liable for the replacement cost of designer baggage which in itself is valuable and inappropriate to be carried by a low cost airlineAmusingly, designer baggage is defined as
baggage which bears a logo of a so-called designer manufacturer and is sold at inflated prices.
[Botherer] On the "List of Things To Do (Urgent)" is a Stealth Mode where all mentions of the word "game" are obscured. This might be useful in a workplace environment.
As for organists, I don't think they'd find it much easier, because the movements they make with their feet aren't hugely complicated - as far as I know, no more complicated than those a driver makes in a car with the pedals.
[nights, again] To be honest, I don't think that what you say has ever been true, at least not for the last 15 years or so. I think there's a whole bunch of myths that get irresponsibly perpetuated by ex-students about how all they did was drink, get laid and engage in oh-so-hilarious traffic-furniture relocation exercises. Though now I think about it...
My gripe about assessment, apart from the obvious selfish one, is that for all the foreplay and aftermath that surrounds a formal exam is that, per hour of examination, I estimate you lose about one weeks' worth of time that could be used teaching people something. I'm still "out" on continuous assessment. I hated it as a student, but now I'm on "the other side" I've seen evidence that it can boost the performance of those in the bulk of the distribution. The lower end is always impossible to motivate, and the top end usually looks after itself but I do worry that if things become too prescribed they might get a bit bored. Personally, I advocate oral examinations since they give people the opportunity to reveal what they know, rather than what they don't. However, I realise most people feel quite intimidated by them so my feeling is that a mixture of sit-down, continuous assessment and scary viva would probably be the fairest system of all.
*goes back to bed*
CdM] Glad you're available for a round of AVMA :-) Are you mainly Singapore-based nowadays?
Btw - haven't spotted INJ for a while. Hope he and his flag can make it to Rugby again.
[nights] never mind, poppet.
[Irouleguy] I take it you're doing the honours? Good for you - I think mine was easier. Anyway, based on your 2 words, I've taken the liberty of starting a new quickfire limerick.
As a further aside, I'm also amused that even the most painful-looking traps have pictures of cute fluffy little creatures with big eyes and nice round ears on them. It's rather like putting a cartoon pig on the outside of a packet of bacon.
No mice, but crispy fried woodlice in a thin coat of batter slightly salted.
[Dujon]You are back in the chase.At the moment I'm chasing the Royals as they seem to be in a bit of disarray.
Meanwhile, my ongoing battle with Jerry continues. I was always suspicious that the bait hadn't been taken and in fact all it did was make him tiptoe more lightly around the kitchen. Confirmation came after I scattered a little flour on the floor, expecting to find ickle paw-prints in it the next morning. Sod that - he came and ate the whole bloody lot! So the snap traps came out, and again he's proved himself to be a canny bugger and has steadfastly avoided them (despite one of them fitting snugly inside his entry channel).
It turns out that the right thing to do is to call the landlord's agents, who have a dedicated mouse man who'll come out, do a thorough investigation and block up all the hole. So this should all be over soon I hope...
[pen] a job bag, eh? Reminds me of my student hols when I worked on a geriatric ward ..
nights] Exterior design, shurely?
This weekend will be further decoration of the living room. As background I tune the Freeview box to digital radio, lots of channels but end up listening to 6Music. I tried Q but after hearing The Waterboys for the third time in as many days and accident lawyers, next stop is Kerrang!