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A numerical puzzle

Someone has just been considerate enough to bring me back three cakes, of the small sponge variety, that sit in pleated, little paper cups, and that have icing sugar and other lovely things on top.

They said it was for my sweet tooth, but I've decided to ignore that slur on my hypoglycaemia research project.

Now I would have preferred to post a picture of the thing with a bite taken out, you know provide some visual context. Unfortunately my camera's fastest shutter speed wasn't up to the job of freeze-framing this fast-action, two stage chomp.

This photograph is therefore a valuable piece of cake history. Thinking to offer it to cake historians, I tried an internet search for: "historic pictures of cakes", but nothing was returned. Hmm, this kind of makes me wonder whether I've inadvertently stumbled on my purpose in life, my very own service to the Human Race. Establish a website purely devoted to historic pictures of cakes. I'll give it some though over cake number three, which is not yet history.

I know you'll have read the title of this post and be wondering whether, having removed one cake, and subtly hinted at the possible demise of another, I'm going to set you a complex arithmetic puzzle by asking you how many are left. No, no, no. Of course I wouldn't insult your intelligence this way. In fact, I have a much more complex puzzle to present.

Discerning viewers with an eye for detail will have noted a small blue cylindrical object, perched on that sugary, half-orange slice. Here then is the puzzle. This object is one of what would be called hundreds and thousands (that's sprinkles to American readers) had the cake been sprinkled liberally with similar items. However only one of these things accompanied my cake.

Therefore how do you refer to this object? Is it:
a hundreds and thousands?
a hundred and thousand?
a hundred and one?
a one?
some insignificant blue speck what just disappeared down my gullet?

Listening to: Susan McKeown, "Or Mhle Gr A Thousand Times My Love"
Thinking: that 'sprinkles' seems such a bland word

A multipleoid

The other day I stumbled on one of those daft blog quizzes, a personality disorder test on 4degreez.com. It's worrying sometimes how easy it is to become distracted. After quizzing me on my mental sanity, it came up with this comforting diagnosis:

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid:	Very High
Schizoid:	Very High
Schizotypal:	Very High
Antisocial:	Low
Borderline:	Moderate
Histrionic:	Moderate
Narcissistic:	High
Avoidant:	Very High
Dependent:	High
Obsessive-Compulsive:	High

Well that's nice, isn't it. I've been diagnosed with multiple disorders by an "interactive community for teenagers and twenty-somethings".

It does make me wonder just what the motivation is behind many of these silly quizzes. Probably it's to boost site rankings or entice you into buying something. I also wonder how many are actually fronts for something more dubious, like a 12-year old in China, exploring the latest browser security flaws with an unsuspecting population of internet guinea pigs. This is of course, just my own paranoid, schizotypal view.

So it seems that I have several conditions of the brain which end in "-oid". Well I'm actually quite happy to be an oid, and feel much better for being several of them at once. There's a comforting feeling that comes with knowing you are at least anchored somewhere in the shifting seas of sanity, even if the GPS is giving off an odd reading.

Comfortable in sanity - to be or to have, which is it I wonder?

If you really are quite bored and feel compelled to prove your own (in)sanity, the site can be found here. I can't vouch for it's validity though.

Listening to: The Kinks, "Acute Schizophrenia Paranoia Blues"
Feeling: guilty - I lied - I'm not really listening to that song

Blogging can be hazardous

Sometimes I re-read my posts and wonder if there's a psychological condition called "regressing rabbit"?

Sometimes recently, en route to the kettle, I've found myself on the stairs doing a little smoochie dance to that Gnarls Barkley band. Can't provide a link to any music, but it's chilled, cool and uncluttered.

Sometimes, as I did on my last book shopping day, I write blog entries head-down while walking along the street.

This really does take a lot of concentration, especially on keeping the writing lined up.

After looking up at that Pink Cadillac - a moment's lapse in concentration you see, that's all it took - I stumbled over the bonnet of a BMW pulling out of an alleyway. Notebook, dignity and blogger went for a burton but luckily no harm was done to the car. It did seem wise though to retreat from the incident before any thought of routine litigation could occur to the driver.

So you see, this blogging, it can be quite hazardous to your health and for that reason alone, I really can't recommend it to newcomers.

Listening to: Gnarls Barkley, "Crazy"

What shape is yours?

Have you ever looked inside your own belly-button? Can't say I have much, but now that I do, it is a bit curiously fascinating. Mine looks, well kind of like a spiral. Where do you think it goes?

I seem to have 'things' in here. Didn't realise it was such a store cupboard for blue fluff. What's odd is that I'm wearing a white t-shirt, so who put that blue fluff there? Should this be a concern? Does everyone have blue fluff?

Wish I hadn't started now, can't leave it alone.

Eeee-yukkie-poos, doesn't half look strange in a magnifying glass. Hmm, wonder if I should ... no, no, it would be like taking porny pics wouldn't it? Silly idea.

Photo by Alfonsator

Listening to: Sting, "The Windmills of Your Mind"
Feeling: anatomically curious

Too many notebooks?

I've just mislaid a notebook. It's the yellow one with the black rings, my back-up notebook. Ooooh this is so annoying!! It's not over there, nor in favoured rucksack. I've checked the fridge and the toaster.

I have a notebook for photography, one for painting and art (quite empty this one), one for reading and writing, one general 'always on my desk' notebook, a PC/Linux quick ref notebook, one 'always with me' notebook that stays in my rucksack, one back-up 'always with me' notebook, in case I lose the first one, a holiday notebook, a car/driving notebook, an electronic diary/address/lists notebook, a 'heard on the radio' notebook ... eleven so far ...

See it's because I'm not good at working with these digital Palmy things and I generally need to leave a notebook conveniently placed near the thing I'm making notes about.

Losing notebooks using this system happens often. I wonder if I need a notebook to keep a track of my notebooks? Maybe I should reduce the number of notebooks before I get to thirteen?

Wait! Found it, ha-ha diddly-dee. It was under art notebook (the empty one), which was under my blank unused artist's sketch pad, which was under my unused copy of "Drawing for the Artistically Undiscovered", which was under the A4 folder that's been holding some of my post scribbles. As you can tell, I have a very organised desk here at my blog station and everything has its place.

Now then what on earth did I want it for ...

Listening to: Neil Young, "Helpless"
Wondering: where I put the toast?

Routine Housekeeping

My book post is becoming a monster and I haven't even finished it yet. I need sleep but meanwhile, some interim silliness.

Now and again it's good to tidy-up your blog. You know, remove those old images, the ones from way back that no-one looks at anymore, or freshen up your header pic and toss the old one in the trashcan.

A simple bit of routine housekeeping, it should be a doddle. Surely no-one would get upset if you tidied up your own images?

Listening to: Fields of the Nephilim, "Endemoniada"
Wondering: which planet some people live on

Pigeons in the Parliament

I struggle to take the Scottish parliament seriously. After destroying what little credibility they had by spending all of my money on a completely mis-managed comedy theatre for politicians, they are now arguing over pigeons.

Back in April of last year, this article reported that pigeons had been piddling on the parliament: "droppings and feathers have landed on their (MSPs) desks after getting through window and air vents", "Pigeon poo is very unsightly and it's causing a bit of a niff in some parts of the building."

Yet today I read that after spending unspecified monies on "anti-roosting spikes" (sounds quite painful), they are still there - and it might cost the taxpayer £250 per nest to ship them off for a holiday on the west coast.

"Spokesman Ross Minett said: We believe the general public would be supportive to these animals being taken to a wildlife centre rather than killed unnecessarily."

For once I completely agree. I don't believe in unnecessary killing of politicians. Maybe the pigeons could be left to poo all over the Parliament in peace and safety if anti-roosting spikes were installed in MSP seating areas!!

Mulish

It's a new day. I realise now that I've been squeaking. I have to moan from time to time, it helps pacify parts of me that ... need pacifying. Little Holes are indiscriminate snippets of a life. They include the sweet and the sour and also sometimes what's in the dog bowl.

You can see that I'm going to be mulish and not apologise, can't you.

So where are the sweet bits? Well I am trying to write up my Lakes trip but it's a slow process. If it takes too long some silliness may have to fill the gap.

Talking of the latter. What would happen if, on your wedding day, you were walking up the aisle and suddenly James Bond parachuted in to rescue you?

Listening to: Cat Stevens, "Hard Headed Woman"
Feeling: like a mushroom, why is it such a dark day today?

I am a (small) planet

"Astronomers have voted to strip Pluto of its status as a planet"

Well, Pluto is definitely a planet as far as I'm concerned. What happened to the "it's round and it revolves around the Sun", common sense definition?

Apparently it is now a "dwarf planet", although it seems the Earth also fits this definition so astronomers might soon think of us as little dwarfish people.

Have you noticed something curious about the new definition for a 'proper' planet?

* it must be in orbit around the Sun
* it must be large enough that it takes on a nearly round shape
* it has cleared its orbit of other objects

This actually means that like Pluto, the only condition I don't meet, is the last. I share my orbit with the Earth. So, I too must be a dwarf planet rather than a 'proper' one. Well it's nice to know I'm not a piece of cosmic dust or a super massive black hole :-/

The planet Pluto was discovered in 1930, and named after a suggestion by an 11 years old Oxford Schoolgirl (Venetia Phair). Well that's good enough for me.

Listening to: The Thompson Twins, "We Are Detective"
Feeling: hmmmm, small and slightly eliptical

Well why don't they?

Yawn. Tonight had some lumpy bits in it but luckily, there were lots of friendly blogging people chattering away on 20Six. And I've been listening to that Radio Blagon station again, playing "Interesting French electica", otherwise known as quite mad, café music. Marcel et son Orchestre, and Les Cowboys Fringants, among others. What does 'Fringants' mean I wonder? Hope its not rude.

Yawn. If only these were sleep yawns. Whenever I put my head down, it gets filled with all this activity and thought. Not the kind of thought that builds moon rockets but the kind where I wonder if I should nip down to the kitchen and steal a choccy biccy or nibble on an oatcake or read my Gas bill or just pace up and down on the carpet to make sure it's stuck down properly.

I've tried the hot milk, solitaire and sudoku. Yawn, I think it's time for the glug-glug now.

Can someone wake me in the morning please?

Listening to: Bikini Machine, "L'idole"
Wondering: why mountains don't have bra's?

Roly-poly Britain

Since we're having an excess of seaside weather I was wondering why we couldn't have more seaside. I mean it's quite inconvenient that people have to work in hot offices and cities when they could be somewhere much nicer with lots of lovely cool sea air.

So my thoughts meandered (good for me, bad for everyone else) and I wondered if we could reshape the British Isles. I was thinking of a roly poly, you know the type of thing we get when we're making French bread from dough. If we rolled it out so it was really long then we should be able to make it just wide enough for the widest building, and a road (not for all those people who insist on hurrying - they'd have to swim, but for those who couldn't get around so easily) and a sandy beach on each side. We don't want it to stretch up to the Arctic because it would be too cold there so I was wondering about a curly wurly shape.

It might look something like this (now you see why I'm not an artist):

Now I know people in hospitals and emergency services would still have to work, but at least they's be able to pop out at tea break and catch a sea breeze. And the rest of us could bring them nice cool vanilla 99's and things because there would have to be a decrease in the making of submarines (the crews would get dizzy) and an increase in the making of floating ice-cream vans.

We wouldn't need cars any more because we could put a railway track along the middle so that would help our government meet its carbon targets and people with roadrage could play ludo instead of making steam.

There's just one problem with this plan. I haven't left much room for hills and mountains and these are really important because that's where we'd have to put the supermarkets. Just think that after puffing and sweating your way up for the weekly shop, you'd have lost so much body fat and be so healthy that you could eat whatever you wanted. Even naughty things like chocolate truffles and chocolate fudge cakes.

So I think we have to leave room for a very very thin mountain everyone few miles or so.

I do find myself wondering if there are any improvements I could make to this plan before I submit it to Mr Prescott?

Listening to: Morrissey, "The Youngest Was the Most Loved"
Wants: to build a sand castle

Heat and sugar

Its a hot, hot day for wandering around a supermarket. These temperatures remind me of a melting I experienced during a Summer in India over 20 years ago.

But chocolate has been purchased. Unfortunately its fallen ill in the heat and gone all gooey. I rushed home bleeping several hee-haw, hee-haw siren squeals and admitted it to the fridge. An anxious and fretful wait of about 30 minutes ... but the news is (was) good, its been restored to its full crunchiness even if cosmetically, it has a curvature that resembled the shape of my bum.

I say the news was good because of course, I am a self confessed serial chocolate gobbler and I now have to come clean (not easy with sticky fingers) and own up.

I tried to follow someone's example and bought some fruit as well. Thing is, there's no more room in fat tummy and I've got a sugar imbalance that's making my brain spin. You can probably tell that from this nutty post.

If I can get myself back on an even keel some photos may be posted soon. I'm going to investigate Flickr and will report my findings in case anyone's curious.

Hope its cooler where you are.

Listening to: Qntal - "Entre Moi Et Mon Amin"
Experiencing: a fluttery and very unhealthy sugar high

Should I?

I'm looking though a doorway into a kitchen area. There's a work surface, stainless steel sink, fridge, grubby microwave, and some off-white walls. The place is empty ... well not quite empty because on the edge of the work surface lies a small 1" square piece of chocolate!

It might be asleep because I've been staring at it for 3 minutes and it hasn't moved.

No-one's been in the kitchen for at least 15 minutes. I know this because I've been sat peeking through my left eyebrow at the doorway for that long.

Don't people realise the turmoil and intestinal angst that this kind of temptation creates for a chocoholic???

It's probably a trap. I can't see the cameras and low-level laser tripwires, but they must be here somewhere. Wonder if I could borrow a 'hoodie' and sneak in anonymously, accidentally knocking it into my empty coffee cup?

No, no, resist, resist. I mean it'd be like stealing wouldn't it? Well wouldn't it?

Desperately seeking sheep

No more of these here long relationships please, no no no no!

live, love, long years, boom,

live, love, long years, fizzle,

live, love, long years, wallop,

...

I so wish Bunnyparents had taught me the Shhhh song instead their strange ideal of how relationships should last forever.

I need warm, carefree company for a while.

Baaa-a, come to me shaggy ones.

I may have just gone off my trolley.

Gorgeous graphic designers

I've decided the world is full of gorgeous graphic designers, talented technobods, savvy social commentators ...

... and me!

I can't draw, got bored with tech talk, and the only social I know is the noisy one round the corner that closes at 11pm.

Perhaps as a result, occasional posts may be severely affected by the afluence of incohol or an excess of caffeine depending on the time of day.

I may have fallen in love though, with the girl on the front cover of my bus timetable. She holds a mobile phone to her ear and wears a beautiful smile. Just need to get her number from the bus company ...

Listening to: "Ivy and Neet", This Mortal Coil
Feeling: brain dead after a sober evening

the Jools report

Raul Midón quietly blew me apart with his masterful guitar and how can anyone keep an entire jazz quartet in their mouth?

There was something strangely rejuvenating about The Flaming Lips' rendition of Black Sabbath's War pigs and I could've listened to Cat Power's groovy soul all night.

Have to report though that I've fallen hopelessly in love with the violinist from Divine Comedy. She's got such sexy calves.

Mood: butterflies in me tum-tum

Gamma-ray bye-bye

I don't know why I get so fascinated by what goes on in the sky. Maybe it's the big numbers thing, Bunnyboys are always interested in big numbers.

My latest craze is for Long Gamma Ray Bursts (gamma rays are the things that jump out of nuclear explosions and melt our skin)

Lovely colour, isn't it.

These seem to be all the rage out there in space, apparently with some of them emitting over a thousand ergs of energy. Ooeeerr and wolligogs, must take quite a lot of chickens, that.

I was wondering if the birth of a blog might generate that sort of energy, but sadly not.

If one of these little bursts happened in our galaxy, it would destroy the ozone layer, remove all my grey hair and cause huge profits for sun-lotion companies. Luckily there are only 3 stars in our galaxy that are mean enough and they're busy arguing among themselves as to who's going to be the first, so it probably won't happen tonight.

Don't you get a really quite warm and fuzzy about living in a place where we are all so completely insignificant? The fact that the human race will one day be wiped out by a tiny cosmic event is something that stops me feeling so depressed. So party out tonight, peepsies, just in case we go bye-bye tomorrow.

Killing the Taxman

Wonder if I've got a mild case of nostomania for this blog?

What's that? well it arrived in the mail today (one of those word mailing list thingies), so I thought I'd unwrap it and put it here on a post to see how it looked.

No, silly, what does it mean. Oh, sorry. It says it means "An overwhelming desire to return home or to go back to familiar places" ... Hmmm, but wait. That's funny. its not in my Oxford dictionary (my big heavy one). Closest is nostos: "a homeward journey ... esp. as the conclusion of a literary work."

I wonder if someone's pulling my leg?

Anyway, I feel happy today. Not used to feeling happy, feels all kind of bristly and giggly. Does anyone know how to kill the taxman by the way? You know, in a nice way so that he's really dead but it didn't hurt him?

Listening to: The Doors, "Strange Days"

Feeling: like I'm standing in the middle of a field of sunflowers