Tragedy...

...when the morning cries and you don't know why.

The morning indeed cried excessively: there was a storm. The sunflower was hurt. Hurt bad. It has now been put to rest.

The feeling's gone and I can't go on.

Good job I got pictures of it's immense height at the weekend!

Moon. xxx

evidence

Just for Prof...

Amazing! Since my last post the sunflowers have positively bloomed. Talk about a growth spurt...



What's that? 16 feet tall?!



OK, OK. Here's the actual measuring process. As you can see I hired independent adjudicators.












And the result is...




I make that 2m28.


I therefore declare myself the winner. Well, not the loser, at least.




What will the next competition be?!

Moon. xxx

2m25!

So here they are.








One of the final sunflower posts. I appear to have beaten Prof Tombola, Much hasn't mentioned the flowers in a while and Akira hasn't shown any evidence of his supposed 3.5 metre wonders. I therefore declare myself the winner of the sunflower growing competition. I am happy to post photographic evidence involving tape measures.



The following picture had to be taken by precariously balancing the camera on a windowsill, as has been done previously. Independent living is a delight.



Moon. xxx

This weekend I've been marvelling at...

... the lack of public transport in Lincolnshire.

As I was busy cat sitting this weekend, I decided to venture on a bus journey to the far away land of Lincoln. From the online timetables it would involve catching a couple of buses, which would take just under two hours (Lincoln is about 14 miles away). A small price to pay for some fresh air away from Glentham town.

So at the designated time (actually a good few minutes in advance) I set off in search of the local bus stop. I could think of a couple of likely candidate locations: the village hall, the pub... alas, no bus sign was to be seen. I asked a couple of locals, who were prettying up their gardens, for advice on buses. "Never seen a bus round 'ere", came the reply. Come to think of it, neither had I. I lingered around for a good twenty minutes then became frustrated (pretty angry actually) and returned home. There was no point in trying to call Traveline from my mobile: the Shire is the reception, as well as the transport and general merriment, abyss.

Several phone calls later (involving being given the number to some very strange Spanish holiday resort*) it transpired that the bus timetable was, in fact, a lie. No buses go through Glentham Town. After phoning Call Connect for the second time it was explained to me that in order for the minibus to pick you up, you have to phone up about a week in advance to see if the driver can fit you in to their schedule. Not because of business and demand, no. Due to the fact that the Shire has one minibus, taking passengers to connecting "mainline" bus routes. The first time I phoned the service this was not explained to me. I was expected to understand the system. Granted, Call Connect is an odd service name, but surely this is a little far fetched even for Lincolnshire? I grew up in the country and even I have never come across any method of public transport so absurd. What's more, you have to be a member to gain access to the service. Local services for local people. And no one else. No wonder people live on the same street for the entire of their lives. They can't get away.

'Twas a long weekend in the Shire.

Moon. xxx

* The aforementioned Spanish resort sounded like Polaris World. I trust you have seen the adverts. Next time it's on, count the number of edits in it. I love that ad! Polaris World makes better ads than do Specsavers. That current one is ridiculous!

In case you haven't seen Polaris World, you can meet its president here. Sadly youtube doesn't have the latest ad, which is much better than this one. But why shouldn't you pay for your property, a fair price?

Science versus the World

This weekend I attended a conference on dreams. It was excellent. I felt quite at home and enjoyed the presentations so much I didn't skip a single session.

However (there's always a "however") in addition to the worthwhile presentations, there was also plenty to rile me. This generally took the form of Christian American therapists. I shall give three examples to illustrate why it is important that I continue my research career: to prove these people wrong wrong wrong.

#1
At breakfast I sit next to a large American woman (I arrived late, of course). She told me that she did dream work with female prisoners. During the conversation I asked her whether dream recall was ever a problem. She told me how she makes the women feel guilty if they don't remember dreams, by telling them that they were ignoring "Gawwd". She believed it.

#2
An American Jungian therapist was presenting some work she had been doing with a patient on her dreams. In the dreams she was often in square rooms, which was highly significant for some reason, and contributed to the therapist deciding that the patient had serious sexual problems and that her mother was smothering her and therefore needed to be removed from her life.

#3
A Dutch therapist (probably in collaboration with an American) presented the drawings of trees by some children, upon which she diagnosed their mental problems. They all had problems, incidentally, bar one. A hole in the bark of the drawn tree indicated trauma in the past, and it's location identified when the trauma had occurred. My main question was, "why?". "Because some guy wrote a book that said so", was the reply. "And did this guy base his interpretations on any evidence or empiricism?" asked I. The woman looked blank. This sparked a discussion of how qualitative methods are just as worthwhile as "scientific" ones. There was a general consensus amongst the therapists that I was narrow minded.

Luckily the keynote speaker recognised the error of his ways and thanked me for having enlightened him. He was even American! As I said, the conference was good on the whole. I am looking forward to my discussions at the next conference.

Moon. xxx

you can do it too, with McCann-do

There's some important stuff going on in the world at the moment. Gordon Brown is proposing some surprisingly right wing-sounding plans (creating British jobs for British people, increasing required levels of English for immigrants etc); the London Olympics logo might be triggering epileptic seizures; Pakistan is busy deporting ex-Prime Ministers... but most importantly, the McCanns are seeking legal action and wish to be left alone.

The media attention surrounding their case has been phenomenal, rivalled only(in my relatively short term memory) by Jessica Chapman and Holly Wells' disappearance in 2002 (and that was only for 3 weeks; perfectly aligned with parliamentary holidays. Well there was nothing else going on, was there?). I'm increasingly angry at all this attention, but verging on furious at how I'm beginning to want to know what's going on. A part of me wants the McCanns to have killed their daughter. Not for sick reasons (I hope) but because it's time the case was closed. Last night there was simultaneous coverage on three different TV channels; excluding Freeview ones!

The parents have remained in the media spotlight since May, and voluntarily so. Now things aren't going their way they would like a bit of privacy. In fairness they didn't really need 3 BBC jeeps following them from the airport back to Leicestershire, did they? What a waste of fuel.

The only good thing to emerge from all this attention was a debate on Jeremy Vine the other day: a Portuguese police representative was on the receiving end of abuse by many callers-in (imagine Cockney accent: "Clearly the parents didn't do it. The Portuguese have been rubbish and lazy. They have to pretend they're doing something and pin it on someone") and got quite riled. Quite entertaining.

Moon. xxx

hair, there, everywhere

Check out some mighty facial hair here. Picture 2 is a personal favourite. I am confused as to why number 9 diligently grows chin hair yet clearly plucks his brows. And number 10 - Alaskan? Never!

Championship categories for the facial hair contest included: Moustaches - Natural, English, Dali, Imperial, Hungarian, Freestyle
Partial Beards - Natural Goatee, Chinese, Musketeer, Imperial, Freestyle, Sideburns Freestyle
Full Beards - Verdi, Garibaldi, Natural Full, Natural Full with Styled Moustache, Freestyle

Sideburns freestyle being a personal favourite. Am confused about "natural"s. Do the others get implants?

What else to blog about? I'll let you know how the staff development festival goes, on Monday. It's hosted by a Robbie Williams tribute act. Wow.

Still no news from GNER. Bastards.

I went to Bingley festival today. Ha! Bluetones were fun though. Was in such a good mood I didn't even complain about how chip baguettes (mmm carby goodness) cost £7.

AND I went out last night. AND stayed out til 2.12am. Impressive. The smoking ban has brought about new levels of olfactory sensitivity. Whilst seeming to be a good thing insofar as you think the endless people outside bars are queueing to get in, then pleasantly realise that they're merely tabbers, the lack of smokey scents inside no longer mask sweat and vom.

I shall blog no more. Seeing as no-one comments these days (aah!).

Moon. xxx