Distilled fun

Went for a wander around the distillery district today with Paul/a. One of those cool "urban renewal" projects that takes a bunch of old Victorian warehouses and factories and regenerates it as a series of shops selling cool shit, and pubs.

We lunched at the Mill Street Brewpub, where they offer sampler trays for those who can't choose between the impressive array of beers, and/or don't have time for a "session." Each of these glasses is a third of a pint, so not only do they all slip down remarkably easily, but by the time you've emptied the tray you've had more than a pint; just about the perfect amount for lunchtime drinking. My tray included an IPA, and ESB, a raspberry fruit beer, and a pilsner (which I swapped for the Wit beer on Nikki's tray as she's not a huge fan of wheat beers).

Lunch was some kind of pulled beef sandwich with amazing BBQ sauce, the by-now traditional sweet potato fries and slaw, after which we staggered over to Soma Chocolate for a cup of Mayan chocolate.

Eating and Eaton

Latest in the series of awesome meals on this trip, which so far has consisted mainly of eating, sleeping and shopping, was yesterday's Easter Sunday dinner. A traditional family dinner to rival the Thanksgiving dinner we enjoyed on our last visit, this one featured the same cast and pretty much the same menu.

Roast turkey, homemade stuffing, garlic mash, sweet potatoes, peas, sprouts and carrots, cranberry sauce and gravy, followed up by three different kinds of cheesecake. I'm finding that it's getting easier to move after meals of this size, so much of the nutrition must be finding its way to my leg muscles.

Today we travelled into town on the street car, visited the Eaton Centre (more shopping) and lunched at Mr Greenjeans (more eating - here's our burgers and very yummy they were too, washed down with a couple of pints of Sleeman's Honey Brown) before travelling home again for a significantly simpler family meal, which was quite a relief after the massive indulgences of the last 3-4 days.

Nice horsey

When I was a young lad - we're talking pre-teen (yes, my memory really is that good) - Saturdays could occasionally be really boring. If the boredom reached #8 or #9 on the scale, I might put the TV on and watch the afternoon sport, which in those days inevitably consisted mostly of horse racing.

It wasn't long before I discovered a talent for picking a winner, just by going on the name that appealed to me most. I can almost hear the experienced race-goers groaning at that, but this was years before I discovered that's a typical noob approach to racing and utterly frowned on by the cognoscenti.

Fast forward to Easter Sunday 2011 and here we are waiting for the turkey to cook and the guests to arrive, with one of Neil's favourite TV programmes hammering away in the corner: horse racing. And guess what, following immediately on the heels of my first win (I've already forgotten the name, but it was significant enough for me to pick it) comes Forever Awesome - chosen purely on the basis that its name is very similar to Forever Autumn, one of my favourite karaoke tracks of all time - and it's romping home by about five lengths.

So I've still not lost it. You can be 100% certain that if I were ever to start putting money on these nags, my gift would disappear as mysteriously as it came.

One of those things

Whenever you visit another country, you see things that are better than back home, things that are worse and, just occasionally, things that make you scratch your head and say: WTF?

For me, from the very first time I saw one 10 years ago, to the most recent time today (and every day of this trip so far), one of those "wtf" things is the All-Way (or 4-way) stop.

In the UK, and as far as I can remember in every other European country in which I've driven or been driven, whenever two roads cross there is the concept of one of them being the "major" road, and the other the "minor". So you get something like this:

Cars on the horizontal road *always* have priority; those on the vertical roads have to wait if there's traffic on the horizontal, or at least slow down to check and "give way" before turning out/crossing.

However, in North America, while this system applies to "really" major roads, in general it isn't extended to the vast network of roads around local suburbs. Here, there is no concept of a 'priority' road. All roads are equal. And because of that, when two equal roads cross, you get an All-way stop.

What a crazy, outmoded idea! Self-explanatory I'd hope, but just in case: everyone approaching this crossroads has to stop. Always. Even when there's no other traffic around at all. And because the roads and verges here are so wide, mostly you can see down the approaching roads for anything up to 100 metres. Easily far enough to tell that nothing is coming. And of course two cars coming from opposite directions and intending to go straight on would have NO effect on each other whatsoever. But both still have to stop, and then set off again.

What is even more surprising to me, as someone who spends a lot of time bemoaning how everyone ignores the rules of the road in the UK (especially cyclists), is that everyone rigidly obeys this rule. No traffic cops around, no cameras, and yet everyone stops. Always. What a waste of fuel, wear and tear on brakes and clutch, and time. And on suburban streets it's not unusual to have one of these every couple of hundred metres. You're not even allowed to "give way" (a concept that doesn't seem to exist here) - i.e. slow down, check, and proceed. No, it's a mandatory full stop. Does my head in every time.

How did this happen?

Something about our flight to Toronto yesterday triggered one of those gestalt moments for me. A chilling realisation of a modern truism. And it's this:

When I was young, the world was geared around older people. Us youngsters had to defer to our elders, treat them with respect, shut up and get on with doing as we were told, and not make a fuss.

Now I'm older, the world is geared around younger people. Us elders(*) are invisible. Virtually ignored by marketeers, shoved out of the way in queues and generally not given as much respect as people of our age commanded in "those days."

So it seems, or at least yesterday it seemed, as if somehow everything had flipped 180° and I'd missed that crucial nexus - if it ever existed - when I was the "right age" for the world.


(*)OK, 54 isn't THAT old, but... you know... sometimes it FEELS as though it is.

Vinyl: Making Movies

Artist: Dire Straits
Owned on digital media: No
Want to replace: Yes

This is the one. The album that first really got me into Dire Straits. The album I remember listening to lying on the floor of a Lake District living room, cans firmly fixed to head, trying to ignore all the point-scoring shit that regularly flew around that particular bunch of in-laws. I immersed myself in the music for as long as I could. Which turned out to be until Momma In-Law burst in and ordered all the "children" (the youngest of us was, at that time, 23) out so that the "adults" could sit in comfort with their "adult" conversation.

Interesting to reflect with my traditional 30-year perspective that the behaviour that was soon to follow that event was not what anyone could pretend deserved the tag: adult.

Even with such uncomfortable associations, the music's still good :o) I've marked the "want to replace" flag as 'yes' above, but a closer look at the track list shows there's only a couple that I don't already have on various digital compilations (Alchemy, Very Best of...) so I'm not convinced it's worth it.

How's your geography?

Sorry that the scoring bot was apparently out of action after I played this, so there's "no score" to beat, but I thought it was worth posting anyway as the game itself is a bit of fun. I had two goes, and my highest score was something a bit over 20,000.

First round you're given a choice of blobs as the target city. Second round you only get the countries. Third round you're left alone with just the landmass to play with.

How can you do?

Random last-minute jobs

Most of the time, procrastination is my middle name. Just occasionally though, those little niggly jobs that I usually put off forever have to be done RIGHT NOW. Today was a day for jobs like that.

1. The keyhole cover.
After decorating the hall, I replaced the brass keyhole cover on the front door. Trouble is, I didn't get it *quite* right. I reckon it was somewhere around 5° off the vertical. Not much, and not enough to make it impossible to lock/unlock the door (or I'd have had to fix it right then), but just enough to require a bit of key jiggling and make opening the door harder than it should be. Reason for procrastination? Initially, annoyance at myself for getting it wrong in the first place. Subsequently, not being arsed.

I took it off and spun it those 5°.

2. The shower light.
Our bathroom has 10 spots. Eight covering the main area of the room, on one switch. Two above the shower cubicle, operated off a separate switch. One of those two blew a few weeks ago. Reason for procrastination? In the 4 years since the bathroom was reconstructed, I've not had to replace one of these bulbs, so I don't know the type and I've been constantly forgetting to (a) bring the stepladder upstairs and (b) pull one of the bulbs on a shopping day so we can be sure of having spares.

I pulled a bulb from the eight and swapped it with the blown dude, checked our extensive collection of random spares, found a match and replaced it.

Umm... that's it. Fish will need a 50% water change on Wednesday which will last them until we get back, at which point I'll do another 50% change. But other than that we're all set.

The rest of the morning was taken up with lawn mowing and a spot of digging, leaving the afternoon free to watch Glorious 39 and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Handkerchief. I'd not seen Glorious 39 before. Definitely one for the eBay pile - we won't be wanting to watch it a second time!

Book Swap

Chorlton’s "Big Green Festival" today and the book club were invited to man a book swap stall again. I did this once before, at our first book swap back in 2007, but hadn't been involved the last couple of times. This year the previous organisers of the book swap table weren't available, but this coincided with us having rather a lot of books we wanted to get rid of, so I volunteered. I turned up this morning with one plastic crate full and another containing half a dozen hardbacks.

The festival proper opened from 11am to 6pm, but that's a long time to be stood behind a table full of books smiling politely while passersby sift through the multiple copies of book club cast-offs looking for a good read. I never intended to stay for the whole afternoon, but I'd assumed - since several other book club members had volunteered to help man the stall - that I wouldn't be the "last man standing" and could hand over to someone else. This cunning plan also hid the main reason for leaving early: not to be left with piles of books to look after.

We may have only done four of these, but that's enough experience to know that we always end up with way more books than we start with, and I was under strict instructions not to bring the remainder back home. But at 4pm, having been left on my own since my only two helpers had to leave around 1.30, I had no option but to pack the books back into my plastic crates (which were now BOTH full to the point of books falling off the top) and start to carry them to the gate.

In between carrying off one box and returning for the second some generous individual had come along and dumped FIVE carrier bags full of books on the table. My reaction by that stage was "you have got to be joking." Less than two hours before the event closed? I left them there.

Even so, returning home with two full crates is not the most popular move I've ever made :-/

AI & EQ

American Idol Season 10 is well under way now and I've been thinking for some time that I should comment on the changes that were rung for the 2011 version.

Indeed, regular readers may remember that I predicted, around this time last year, that 2011 would be the end of Idol following the departure of the man Cowell. Well there comes a time when all good bloggers have to eat their words and for me, this is that time. I have to say that the choice of judges to replace Cowell, along with Ellen Degeneres and Kara Italianame, has been nothing short of inspired.

Randy Jackson was always my favourite judge anyway so I was delighted he stayed. The other two empty seats were filled, as the entire televisual world must by now know, by Jennifer Lopez and Steven Tyler. I'm not going to pretend I had a clue who Steven Tyler was before AI started this year. I mentioned a little while ago that I've never been one for learning, or even finding out about, the names of bands I listen to, although naturally (?) I had heard of Aerosmith. Didn't matter though. His unique blend of empathy, honesty, and mad-crazy wacko otherworldliness soon had me hooked and converted to a fan. He just seems to be permanently enjoying himself, which I find totally infectious.

As for Jennifer Lopez, what's not to like? Recently voted the world's most beautiful woman, not only is she easy to look at she talks a lot of sense too, so she's easy to listen to. It's sense that comes from years in the industry, a successful career on stage, and a heart that seems genuinely to want the best for the contestants and wants them to be able to produce their best work too.

So: judges? Tick. Seacrest? Tick. Well come on he's been doing it ten years. He's part of the woodwork. Production values? If anything a slightly bigger tick than before. And when you couple all that with a set of contestants that include a handful of real originals, Idol is once again back on track as far as this household is concerned. Admittedly when compared to last year's dire choices it didn't have to go far to be on a whole other level, but it could have gone either way. Now, it looks like it might be around for a few years to come.

I just have two issues left. One, it's getting harder and harder to avoid the spoilers. I've had to "hide" two or three Facebook friends for the time being, because they insist on posting the results the day before the show even airs here.

And two, there's another show that Cowell left last year. Britain's Got Talent. It starts its fourth run here this coming weekend. So with Cowell and his cohort Piers Morgan both taking the US shilling - er, nickel - and leaving us for the West Coast, how does the UK measure up in the Judge Replacement stakes when compared to the success of American Idol? Well, we got David Hasselhoff and Michael McIntyre. FFS.

What's going on?

Dunno what's happening recently with the spooky bedroom clock, but after yesterday's marathon spookiness my first time check last night was 12:34!

Crikey.

Spooky overload

Almost managed a hat-trick last night...

First time check: 2.02
Second time check: 4.04
Third time check: 5.04 - OHHHHhhhh... missed it by a minute!

Vinyl: Dire Straits

Artist: Dire Straits
Owned on digital media: Yes
Want to replace: n/a

Like pretty much anyone who was listening to music at the end of the 70s, I'd heard "Sultans of Swing" and revelled in the fresh new sound of Dire Straits, but it was some years later that I bought my first DS album, and it wasn't this one.

Only later, when the completist in me began to assemble their back catalogue, did this album find its way into my collection. With 30 years of perspective it still seems incredible that BBC chose not to play Sultans on its first release, but then they've never been particularly smart about their music choices. Well at least, not until the advent of 6music.

Bee hive yourself

Amazing what you can learn while ripping up privet. Yesterday, on my return from carrying a chunky stump to the discard pile, I found a bumble bee sitting quietly on the soil beside a bumble-bee-sized hole.

She looked pretty dopey. I thought how lucky she had been to avoid being squashed while I was yanking the privet stump back and forth to dislodge its roots, but until then I hadn't realised that bumble bees hibernate (a fact later confirmed by our resident Keeper of the Zoological Knowledge - aka Nat).

Their post-hibernation warm-up routine was fascinating to watch too. A few minutes of abdominal exercises (a slight pumping action visible) followed by a couple of tentative - and very short - hovers, only a few millimetres above the ground, to warm up the flying muscles. And then a lazy figure-of-eight flight, gradually increasing in both height and area as the long-unused wings remember their skill and strength, until eventually sufficient altitude was gained to make it over the low wall (see photo on previous blog entry) and cross the lane to the conifer hedge on the other side which at that time of day was in full sun.

The bee sat on that hedge for well over half an hour, soaking up the rays. Clearly a much easier way of warming up than all that tiring flying, especially when you're running on the food reserves that have brought you successfully through a few months hibernation.

Nature in the raw - in our front garden! Brilliant.

Getting preprandial with privet

The brilliant forecast for this weekend turned into a gorgeous reality, and after months of being cooped up in the house and the almost endless decorating it was good to be outside, making a start with the traditional first gardening jobs of Spring.

But our small lawn takes less than 15 minute to mow, so it wasn't long before I was casting around for something else to do.

The remnants of next door's raspberry canes were starting to make themselves known again around the roots of our copper beech hedge, in various parts of the border, and popping up in the middle of the lawn, so I spent an hour or so trying to tease their roots out from around all the other roots. I managed accidentally to bring up a chunk of the lupin that had become totally enveloped by raspberry tendrils, but 80% of the lupin remained, so not too much damage done.

I was in the mood for a larger challenge than this though. Like digging up the privet in the front garden. I'd cut this back in late summer last year as it was up to about 15 feet, and starving all the trees of light. Cutting them back revealed the size of the main stumps. Comparing them to the trunks that I'd helped my Dad pull out of the front garden in Nottingham 30 years ago, I reckon that hedge must have been there as long as the house. But, you know, privet? It's a bit 1950s isn't it? So we wanted rid.

I didn't feel like breaking my back on the privet trunks back then, but I was up for the task now. It's funny how those jobs that you dread tackling, and put off for the longest time, usually turn out to be nowhere near as bad as you expect. The first three stumps were so shallowly rooted that all I had to do was grab them and pull, and they came up in my hand. Admittedly it began to get tougher after that. The further away the privet stretched towards the road, the deeper the soil in the bed, and consequently the deeper the roots. Some of them even headed off under the wall, requiring the application of a bow saw.

Even so the whole job took a lot less time than I'd expected, and left behind quite a wide bed, filled with lovely rich loam, that I'll be able to fill with some nice dwarf rhododendrons once I've dug in a few bags of peat.

Let there be light

We continue to tick off the final few finishing flourishes in the (almost) never-ending saga of hall and staircase refurbishment. Today's instalment: a new light fitting in the hall.

I say new, but this particular fitting has been with us since our previous home, where it hung in the dining room. It was reasonably expensive, but more importantly I really liked it, so it came with us when we moved and in the four-and-a-half years since it has lived in various boxes, cupboards, and most recently spent almost a year under my desk in the study. All this procrastination had two main causes. We couldn't decide where we wanted it (and even if we tried, it was odds-on that particular room wasn't "done" yet, so it would have had to wait anyway); and since the ceilings in New Barns were considerably lower than these, it being a new build, the light fitting had been shortened. Made too short, in fact, for the Edwardian ceilings we now have.

In an unusual spurt of enthusiasm several years ago, I had ventured out to B&Q (Home Depot for my transatlantic readers) and secured a length of decorative chain and a roll of electric cable of the right hue with which to recable the thing, but at that point the procrastinatory shutters came down again. The chain and the cable have followed the light fitting around the house from box to cupboard to under-my-desk, unused, ever since.

Finally, with the hall newly skimmed and painted, we decided that was the best place for the light. I began taking it apart to find out how hard a job the recabling would be. The answer? Hard. It wasn't so much the disassembly/reassembly, or the convoluted path of the cable, but once I arrived at the business end of the fitting - a small space in the innermost cylinder in which the cables from all five lamps, and the incoming power cable, all came together with thermal sleeving and industrially-crimped clips - I realised I wasn't going to be able to get the darned thing apart electrically, let alone put it back together again.

A professional was called for.

And, in the way of professionals, he took a Gordian Knot approach to the problem. "Why don't I just splice on an extra length of cable, and hide the join inside the top cup?" Why indeed.