Christmas In Barcelona

out with the brood

As regular as a prune filled diet I was to jet off the sunshine zone that is something of a second home for me, that being Barcelona, to spend Christmas with my good friend Michelle. An early start was not so welcome, but allowed me a very early flight and almost all the day in Spain. Greetings done, shopping completed it was then time to face the wrath of the beasts. A familiar yipping filled the air as we exited Michelles' new car, a new car I was going to drive later that evening, and descended the steps to her humble abode. Kettle on, have a nice cup of tea before taking the yipping brood for a walk in the vineyards. Michelle being a fan of animals it was only natural for her when seeing a stray kitten that she would take it in. Even though it is surrounded by dogs and cats much bigger that itself, it does manage to hold its own, often against a passing human and a few scratches are testament to that.

trying to be arty

she of the sharp claws

A new nightclub had opened in the next village, with it being a local venture, Michelle and a few of her friends thought it was only right that we should check it out. The downside being, due to me recent illness alcohol is pretty much off my menu, I'm allowed the odd one, but pointless if we are to need a driver later that evening. Firstly we are to meet in the bar, have a few drinks, eat, maybe a few more drinks then head off to this new club, The Underground. As this is Spain, people don't usually go out 'til late, and late means midnight and beyond, but seeing we are going to eat as well, it would be a little earlier.

out again

After meeting up with Michelle's friends and many drinks, many of those being Tequilla, we ventured forth to the club following a baptism by fire. Obviously I can drive and have been doing so for a couple of years, but never have I driven someone else's car, or even worse than that, a right hand drive car on the right hand side of the road, this could have been interesting. Here I was sat in the driving seat, familiarising myself with the layout of the car, Michelle was to direct me to the venue and Cel was taking refuge in the back. Getting it started was no problem, neither was running through the gears, but as this was a relatively new car the brakes are very sharp. Sharp is not really suitable in this situation, you only had to breathe on them and the car would stop instantly, yes they worked, but I'm used to having slightly worn brakes with a bit of travel in them, not these bloody anchors. Eventually we got to the venue without any incident, passengers disembarked fully intact relatively unscathed by the experience.

great views

The club on the other hand was something else, good job it was free to get in, not sure if I would have paid for an hour and half of the same beat with the same melodies dropped over the top in regular succession. I do like my dance music, but I like it to have some variation, and the only variation this had was it was either on or off. Initially it was ok, the beat made you want to move or sway in time, but the similarity and repetition soon emptied the dance floor and we sought drink, non alcoholic for me. Michelle and Cel had a bit of a boogie while I struggled with my very limited Spanish to converse with Josep with his equally limited English, but we kinda got there. Either the music or the drink took it's toll and Michelle indicated she wanted to head off home, keys were handed over and the driving seat was to be occupied by my good self again. Being more cautious with the brakes I got us home safe and sound, Michelle did mention that I could have driven faster and put my foot down, It sure beat walking.

deconstruction

The following day we had visitors in the shape of Vanessa and Josep (not the same Josep from the previous night), Michelle had arranged for this visit so that me and Josep could smash the roof off one of the out buildings on her property. We were soon put to work with a sledge hammer, chisel and other assorted hitting implements, with it being constructed of terracotta tiles it soon became piles of broken shards, more work would need to be done, but not today. Unfortunately during our deconstruction the sledge hammer became equally deconstructed as the shaft snapped whilst deconstructing a section of roof, these things happen, it was just unfortunate that it was while I was doing the deconstructing.

the vineyards

Me and Josep compared our Frikkiness (appreciation of science fiction) while we toiled, got the structure to a state where it was roof less, but in need of some disposal of the debris we had created. A good couple of hours and the job was done, or rather done to a leaveable state. Back down to the house to rejoin Michelle and Vanessa, eat some food and chill out.  The rest of the evening was spent doing magic and solving puzzles on the Wii, Harry Potter Lego was the game and playing it was the aim, after the guests had left that is.

out in the park

Christmas Eve was spent much the same as most days at Michelle's, that is drinking tea, waking the dogs, chatting apart for when Michelle has an English class via Skype, so I make myself be elsewhere and leave her to it, it is how she earns a crust after all. Camera in hand it is time to take some arty pics of her garden and things that inhabit it. We are to venture out this evening to the next village for the Christmas Eve party, as this is Christmas Eve, the tradition is to have dinner with your family they head out and meet up with friends, so it is even later when they do. Around 1 in the morning was when we got to the venue and it was only just getting started, for some reason, probably due to licencing issues, you have to buy tokens for your drinks then exchange them, again as I would be providing a taxi service for Michelle I would not be consuming alcohol, but that didn't stop Michelle.

dylan

Meeting up with Michelle's friends we moved from the bar area onto the dance floor, the venue has the appearance of a high school disco and in some ways it is one. The music for me is questionable, but not too offensive, most people don't really dance but occupy a space and sway. After a couple of hours the music actually changes up a gear and we are rewarded with something even I am swaying to. Nirvana, Madness, Clash, Red Hot Chilli Peppers get some of the older people here to move a bit while the younger ones stop and gaze open mouthed at what is happening. Unfortunately this run of songs comes to an end and the alcohol takes its toll on some, a brief fight breaks out and is over almost as quickly as it began, so quickly the security arrive after those involved have disappeared. As Michelle said, this is a small village and most people have been out with each other so some petty disputes are bound to arise, this is a local event for local people.........

the park

Eventually it is time for my to occupy that driving seat again and taxi Michelle home, by this time I am more comfortable driving her car and she doesn't say too much about how I am driving, just the directions. A neat bit of parking and we are back home, as it is Christmas Eve I am going to have a can of Guinness before going to bed. Michelle gets herself comfy on the sofa while I sort myself a glass, when I return to the sofa to enjoy my beer she is fast asleep and nothing is going to wake her, so I enjoy my beer, put everything away, make sure she is comfy, get a blanket for her and leave her to it.

christmas hats

This year we both wake before noon, last year is was a little drunk and didn't get up until half three in the afternoon, time to open our pressies. Most of mine are still in England and will be opened on my return, but I have a few with me and Michelle has some for me. These are made devoid of wrappings and examined, a devilish Rubik's puzzle and a wind up solar lantern from Michelle, and for her I gave Led Zeppelins Celebration Day DVD/CD, a chicken wall hanging thing and a bird feeder. A converse style sneaker air freshener I gave her the night before, thought it was fitting and all that. A quick bite to eat and we are off out to walk the dogs, on return fire up Skype on the computer and have a chat with my mum. Christmas dinner consisted of steak, my home grown carrots, sprouts, spuds, broccoli and gravy, followed by lemon meringue. Michelle had a chat with her mum via Skype the we set to work on Lego Lord of the Rings.

ronski

Boxing day traditionally means going to Michelle's 'in laws' for a family meal at which I am always made welcome, it's good to catch up with them, usually it's with the English speaking ones, really have to sort out my piss poor Spanish in 2013. Got involved in game of cards, but lost, won the first round though, it was a version of Rummy but with 10 cards and more than one deck of cards. We stayed until most people were leaving, helped with the tidy up and ventured home to continue with the Lord of the Rings Lego.

barcelona

Thursday started as most days do, many cups of tea, some breakfast and a dog walking. On return we indulged in a nice sausage buttie as we were to venture into the city for a bite to eat later that day and then to watch The Hobbit in 3D.  We arrived just as the sun was setting so was able to get some nice sunset pics over Barcelona harbour, had a wander about, grabbed a sandwich the off to the cinema. Obviously the film would be in English with Spanish subtitles, anything else would have been just daft. Three hours and a numb bum later we emerged into the light, a thoroughly enjoyable picture, neither of are sure if the 3D really worked in Middle Earth, but both of us were in agreement that Gollum looked magnificent. I wont spoil it for you but if you loved the Rings trilogy you are going to love this. More of an adventure movie in parts than its predecessor, but still three hours well spent.

out again

Obviously we continued the adventure when we got home by strapping on the handsets and picked up where we left our fellowship in Middle Earth, but in Lego not 3D. Another can of Guinness was consumed, well the doctor did say I could have the odd one, plus the last one didn't do me any harm.

in the bar

Friday was to be my last full day on this visit, so another walk out with the dogs was on the cards, plus Michelle had a couple a classes to fit in during the day, one of which was to be with some of her friends and so I was to be invited along to participate and then off for drinks and a bite to eat at the bar. The lesson consisted of us listening to a couple of Christmas tunes, filling in the missing lyrics and translating the songs then an exercise in plurals. Phew after all that I needed a beer, had a couple at the bar, and consumed some wild boar, very tasty, very strong and very moreish. We spent a couple more hours at the bar with Michelle's friends before it was time to head off home. No Wii tonight for us, but just sat around chatting and finding stuff for Michelle to purchase for her laptop and car, more gadgets.

Well Saturday finally came around and it was time to go home and so I did, but will be back in May for the F1.

Articles From The Past - Part 4

The Improbability Bounce

Predicting The Improbable

It has come to light that the problem of disappearing and then reappearing objects such as pens, lighters, after falling to the ground, is due to a critical balance between the objects mass and the velocity at which it is travelling, this is now known as the improbability bounce.

As an object approaches the ground it gains velocity, momentum and potential energy. As the object strikes the ground some of the energy is transferred into sound, but if the object is approaching the optimum mass and velocity ratio, the sound we hear is not from the object hitting the ground, but the very sound of the fabric of space and time being opened. The object then falls through this opening, a further improbability occurs.

Two possible outcomes are available, firstly the object has disappeared forever, never to be seen again, and secondly the object reappears from out of the tear in the fabric of space time, but this is where it can get rather complicated and confusing. It does not follow that the object will exit in a predictable position relative to its entry, this is due to improbability and is more probable that the object in question will appear in the most unlikely place imaginable.

You may think this is ridiculous, but we have all experienced it, objects fall from a table, you hear the object bounce under the table, only to be found down the back of the sofa. Similar instances can be observed when working with tools, especially screwdrivers. You are part way through assembling something, put the screwdriver down for a moment, only to find it is back in your toolbox. Its strange and true.

Observations into this phenomenon cannot be made, for it confounds predictability, just try dropping a small screw on the floor, and watch while it falls, it will hit the ground and just roll away. It will NOT dissapear no matter how many time you attempt this. The improbability bounce is exactly what it is, improbable and unpredictable, you never know when it will happen, but when it does, just look in the most improbable locations, and you just might find it. Good luck.

Articles From The Past - Part 3

Parallel Time And Travel

Stepping Through The Mirror

Imagine a world in which every single action had an infinite number of possibilities and outcomes, every single choice we make is being played out somewhere in the multiverse. This infinite possibility would go right down to the sub atomic level, in which every particle would have an infinite number of positions into which it can occupy. Therefore an infinite number of universes would be existing simultaneously, right here, right now.

Using this as a hypothesis, would it be feasible to travel to any of the infinite worlds the hypothesis would allow, assuming that is, we had the technology available to us. This would create a set of interesting paradox's, one of which being travelling through time, and how it would effect the timeline of your universe.

If you where to travel one hour into your own personal future, you would arrive to a world in which you did not exist for the last hour, that having assumed that had not returned to the exact point you left. Of course travelling through time you would also have to travel through space, as everything is in motion, the earth on its axis, the earth round the sun, and so on. But there would be no guarantee whether or not this future was part of your original timeline, as it could be possible for you to have entered a parallel timeline, you do exist in a universe of infinite possibilities. On travelling back to the exact moment at which you set out on your journey, would to return to your original departure point, if this is at all possible, or because you have created another set of universes, you could never return to a place in time you once existed. Hopefully travelling through time would neither correct nor distort your time line, but would you ever know.

Assuming this, the Grandfather paradox could be improbable. The grandfather paradox being a person travelling back in time to kill his grandfather before his father was conceived, would they be able to exist to do it. If a single timeline exists then this would be impossible, for if you prevent your father from being born, you could not exist and therefore not travel back in time to do the deed. With multiple possibilities being in effect, anything is possible, and is probably happening somewhere or some when. So would it be your grandfather you would be killing or one from a parallel universe, and if you managed it and still existed would you be able to return to your original timeline.

Along with travelling backwards and forwards in time and encountering strange paradox's, there could be a possibility to intentionally travel sideways and visit other parallel universes, some of which would be virtually indistinguishable from your own. Some could be so bizarre you could be of opposite gender, Hitler was victorious, the extinction of the dinosaurs did not occur and even the possibility that Elvis dodged the draft, gave up his music and became a time travelling operative of the secret service. How would you be able to predict where you would end up, would it be possible to select a parallel world to visit, if so what would you like to see.

So what we have now, put simply, for each possible universe there is a tree type structure emanating from every event, forming branches of possibility leading to other branches and so on. With parallel universes this tree structure would lead not just everywhere with layers of tree structures all stacked upon each other, but every when with every possibility thrown in for good measure.

A specific law of physics states that Matter cannot be created or destroyed in a chemical reaction. The universe being composed of matter, matter which is perfectly balanced to sustain itself. If someone was to travel to a parallel universe, how would it then effect the universe that the individual travelled to, and how much matter would be required to upset a universes balance, how would new matter interact with existing matter, would it be safe.

A possible outcome could be, at a quantum level, sub atomic particles vibrate at a specific frequency, this frequency would be different for each universe, so when matter arrived from an alternative universe some quantum phasing would arise. This phasing being the effect by which two objects vibrating at differing frequencies are brought together and would the two interact with each other. Would a third new frequency be the result, with harmony, or a total annihilation of the new and original particles of matter.

All this being said, if travel to the future, past or parallel universe is possible, would you sign on the dotted line and give it a go. I would, but where would I go.

Articles From The Past - Part 2

Trekspotting

The Fanaticism of Fanaticism

How do you spot a trainspotter, answer, its the one situated at the end of a platform, armed with notepad, binoculars, flask and anorak. So how do you spot the football fanatic, answer its the one in the replica football shirt sat at the bar discussing statistics of the 4-4-2 system against the 4-5-1. That being said, how do you spot a Trekkie, answer, its all down to degrees of obsession.

For all of us have some kind of obsession, whether it is stamp collecting, tropical fish, or even shopping, some are acceptable some are not. Football fans are generaly regarded as machismic, beer drinking lads about town, where as Trekkies are regarded in the same way as trainspotters are, nerdy, wimpish, boring to be with, as all they talk about is Star Trek, and who is the better captain, Kirk or Picard.

Talking about what you enjoy is nothing to be concerned about, its just acceptence. Collecting train numbers is regarded as being odd and wierd, but collecting football programmes is quite acceptable, and the wearing of your replica shirt with you favourite players name and number on the back, goes without question. Try wearing a replica Trek shirt, and see were that gets you.

It still comes down to a degree of obsession, most Trekkies will watch an episode a week, a small percentage will actually buy the episodes, and an even smaller number will own a shirt. Try comparing that to football, who is the fanatic now?

So paying £30 every week to sit in a crowd of equally obsessed people, watching 22 grown men kick an inflated pigs bladder around a field for 90 minutes. All this is well and good, but what does it actually achieve, nothing its just as enjoyable as sitting at home, watching you favourite TV series. Does it change anybody's life, only when you are killed by a rival supporter for supporting the wrong team. Has a Kirk fan ever killed a Picard fan, i think not., but Fanaticism comes in all shapes and sizes, just make sure you are wearing the right shirt when you stand up.

Articles From The Past - Part 1

Who Fears The Who
Is There A Doctor In The House ?

Who feared the who? Who hid behind the sofa on a Saturday night, peeking over a well placed cushion, trying to anticipate any horrific revelation made by the classic British institution known as Doctor Who. What was there to be afraid of, rubber monsters with flatulent speech patterns, or the perpetual screetching of a hysterical assistant. What made it so compelling, making sure week after week we adopted a cushion shield type seating position and where do we start.

In the beginning there was William Hartnell, the lovable eccentric grandfather, a straight laced Victorian gentleman. Here materialised the genesis of all that followed, establishing certain patterns and traits that would provide a template for all that would attempt to follow. Next was Patrick Troughton, something of a sixties hippie idealist, cross legged on the floor of the TARDIS, tootling tunes on a penny whistle. Moving slightly away from the victorian attire, almost Rupert Bear-esque, but with a hairstyle Dave Hill would have died for. 

Next was the golden age of all things Who. Dressed like a dandy, a fop, and a veritable poppinjay Mr Jon Pertwee became the third incarnation of The Doctor. For some of his tenure as the Doctor, he remained on Earth, but that allowed character relationships to develop with other recurring characters such as the Brigadier and his classic car Bessie. This static location also allowed or rather prevented some dodgy sets from being used to portray some far away planet, but encouraged the crap alien department to work overtime. For the second half of this golden age, was the ultimate in Doctoring and extreme behaviour. All packaged into a former Rasputin, and priestly curly topped chaos maker. His name, Tom Baker. Complete with a little bag of jelly babies and some attractive assistants, he provided probably some of the greatest moments in Who history. A tenure unbeaten to this day, the longest lasting of all Doctors, not to repeated for the foreseable future.

Now are the dark days for the Doctor, Peter Davidson and Colin Baker took up the mantle, ran with it and almost destroyed the franchise. That being said they only lasted a few years and it could be forgotten in an instant. What was the problem you may ask, quite simply they had run out of ideas, not sure where to go next, it was decided to continue to flog a dying horse and continue with yet another Doctor.

The names Mccoy, Sylvester Mccoy, one time presenter of Tizwas, and hammerer of nails into nasal cavities, his mission was to save all that was Who. Introducing a feisty assistant, Ace, more funding, and what did you get, a leaner fitter funnier Doctor, in some ways better but not all. Combining the best elements of previous Doctors and allowing Mccoy to add his own insanity allowed the franchise to prosper once more, but its days were numbered, and as they say when the fat lady sings, all good things must come to an end. The Americans are coming.

Dressing it up, throw loads of money at it, and employing an American brother of a well known female actor of some note, does not a great reworking make. Even getting him to play the new incarnation of The Doctors nemesis, The Master. Of course retaining the current televisual regeneration of the good Doctor enables the reworking link everything together. But what is the point of re-inventing the wheel, when the wheel we have is perfectly adequate for the job. Of course the Doctor has to be played by a Brit, that Brit being one of the many Macgahn brothers, Paul being the brother in question. Unfortunately like all of the movie versions, including both of the Peter Cushing outings, it fails to deliver. Elements are elusively missing, one of which being a decent plot, and secondly having too much emphasis on effects. Now the good Doctor is placed in mothballs, not to be aired for quite some time. 

What of the assistants, most of them had pretty much only one role, as Robin was for the Adam West Batman, comic relief and un-heroic peril. Dressing up as an air-hostess, a primitive cave woman, or just a simple grand daughter. Some had a certain quality that enabled them to stand out, and last longer than the average shelf life of a bottle of milks. Some managed this feat in many different ways. Ace had her get up and go, providing the Doctor with a counterpart not afraid to mix it up with the most villainous of villans. Sarah Jane Smith maintained her assistant status for longer than most, not quick with the fists, but having an intellect or outlook the Doctor appreciated on many occasions, plus being the assistant for two Doctors gave her a special quality others could not live up to. Bonnie Langford is the unmentionable one, squeaks and all, fortunately William did not make an appearance, so being sick was not on the cards. A major requisite for all assistants was the ability to get into the most ridiculous of scrapes at alarming regularity, ensuring week by week the good Doctor had enough cause to rescue said assistant and probably save the universe in the process. Only one assistant should never have been rescued, despite any repercussions, that metallic monstrosity should have had its swivelling ears rotated out of the TARDIS permanently. The menial service droid of nightmare came by the name of K9, annoying, kick-able but unfortunately unforgettable. The Yorkshire Terrier of yap yap yapping mechanics, should have had its WD40 spiked with saline, left to rust, forgotten forever.

If the assistants scared you to the back of the sofa, then the monsters should have you quaking yourself out of the room, a plastic not so fantastic with mis-shapen knobs on. Taking the contents of the average kitchen bin, sticky back plastic and a modicum of copydex to bind it all together, Blue Peter's model department had competition. How much more convincingly evil could you be, dressed in a spray painted boiler suit, threatening to take over the world of the week, armed with a bacofoil covered ray gun and chunks of LEGO stuck on your chest. You could get away with almost anything including an oversized pepperpot attacking with a sink plunger and egg whisk. Maggots, spiders, Zygons, Sea Devils and the large headed Sauron all came and went, but squeaking its way to out-alien the aliens was a large eyeball mounted on a green skirt, convincing, I think not. Moreover the true terror came from the intent, and the apparent indestructability of recurring enemies, to rise up season after season despite the fact they had been vanquished more times than the Doctor had regenerated. This gave them a more threatening presence than any amount of garish make up could accomplish. Daleks and Cybermen, every Doctor had to face them at some time, but even these most evil of evils had the proverbial Achillies heel, Cybermen had gold, and Daleks, well they lost out to jelly babies, magnets, foam, you name it, they were defeated by it. But still they manage to instil dread and fear in to all they encountered, that is until next time.

Technology has always played a vital part in all of the Doctors many lives, but the Doctor would be nothing without his ability to travel through the universe. Having a Police Box that can travel through time and space could be a licence to fix wrongs if only it worked properly. The TARDIS (time and relative dimensions in space) should be able to blend in to its surroundings but having a defective cloaking circuit means that it must remain a large blue Police Box, plus you should be able to steer such a device whatever the interface, but again the steering circuits are also defective, so every time the TARDIS is engaged you never know where you are going to end up. When rambling across a new world, locked doors could prevent access to places you always want to be. What you need is a Sonic Screwdriver, a multi-tool capable of more operations than your average Swiss army knife combined with a workbench and all the fuse wire in Wales. That's why the Doctor never leaves the TARDIS without it, as without it, he would be without his necessary get out of jail free card, without which he would not be able to get out of jail free. 

So where does this leave us, apart from biting our nails down to the nub, well, at the end of the article, apart from the fact that Doctor Who is back on our screens. Bigger better ballsier than ever before, a new Doctor for a new generation. Traditions are maintained so young and old alike can enjoy it. Christopher Eccleston managed to maintain a leather jacket for one season, stop Billie Piper from singing and reintroduce some of the quirky offbeat humour that had been lacking in some of the previous incarnations. This time re-inventing the wheel has been a success, its still circular, but exists in more dimensions than time and space usually allows on the BBC. Like upgrading your favourite armchair, its comfortable, familiar, but suprisingly new, and if you could scratch it, it would smell nice again. Long live the new Who, David Tennant used to be Casanova, a Death Eater and a possessive partner, but now time has lorded its way into the present, its still wrapped awaiting its release, time to move on..

On The Sofa

A short series of cartoons depicting me and my cat Q, created a few years ago

A Few Random Thoughts

Apathy is neither a solution nor a virtue.

There is no F in quality.

What is the point in telling someone you have something to tell them, only to then tell them you will tell them later.

I still wonder whilst travelling, if I am moving, or if it's the scenery outside.

I don't care if the glass is half full or half empty, I just want to know if it's mine or not.

Wherever I lay my hat, it is still a hat.

I sometimes find myself on a quest only to find I have no idea what I am looking for.

I have many strings to my bow, but limited arrows.

Is the grass actually greener on the other side, or is it just the fact it is a different garden.

Age is a state of mind, even more so since I turned 40.

If I could pull rabbits out of hats, they wouldn't be rabbits.

The older I get, the more I need to lie down.

Death Race Trolley Thousand

I would like to know what happens to people once they take charge of a shopping trolley, fair enough they can have a dodgy wheel, it may pull to one side, but once in the confines of a supermarket, trolley drivers become a breed of animals with no rules or care for others.

My guess is that many of them are car drivers, and being a driver they obviously have to follow the rules of the road, that means stopping at lights, indicating when turning corners, giving way when they need to. Once they have that horizontal bar in their hands all the rules of driving go out of the window, they don't care who they bash into, force their way through gaps that are far too small for them, and generally act like maniacs that would have no place on the road. It's when I am in the queue to be served, and the person behind me is constantly nudging me forward with their trolley bugs me, like it's going to make any difference as to how quickly they are going to be served. Best way to deal with this is to put your foot on the front wheel of the offending trolley, thus preventing any more forward movement, the puzzled look on the pushers face is priceless.

I must admit that if the supermarket is relatively empty, I will swing my trolley around, leave it in the middle of aisles and generally mess about with it. But once there are other people around I am courteous to others, often waiting to let people pass me, make sure that there are not people behind me if I am going to stop and gaze upon the shelves of delight.

Maybe I am in the minority in this behaviour, or that people are just ignorant when it comes to doing their shopping. It's almost like something primal takes over and they have to be there first, or the supermarket is solely for them while they are there and the rest of us are just in the way. Anyway supermarkets are a necessary evil in our modern life and trolley rage comes with that. Next time someone pisses you off in a supermarket, throw something special into their trolley, let them explain that at the checkout.

Maybe the next stage will having them fitted with spikes so you can ram people out of the way when you are rushing to get your chicken nuggets and low fat yoghurt, scoring you special club points for how many pensioners hips you can dislocate, whilst loading up your trolley with as many boxes of highly nutritious microwavable shit for one. Better ring Channel 4, they might give me a series.

on your marks, get set, it's all mine

A New Project, and Some Old Ones

During 2011 I indulged myself in a photography project, that was to take one picture a day for a full year, obviously some days I took more than one, but I had to choose which one, then published it on Tumblr and Facebook. It was good fun, made me take some strange pics of not so strange things.

Last year I started the Think Project, to make those motivational pictures you see on the net. It started well but never really went anywhere, kinda morphed into a line of birthday cards entitled Hippy Burpleday, which I may pursue next year, put them on Etsy and see what happens.

Here are links to those ideas, projects and a few pics of proposed designs for Hippy Burpleday.

365 Days Of Photographs

The Think Project

Hippy Burpleday