Monday, November 29, 2010
Following
I've had the movie Following in my in-tray of films to watch for a while now. It's only 70 minutes long and was Christopher Nolan's (Memento, Insomnia) directorial debut back in 1999. It is a black and white thriller about a writer, Bill, who researches a story by following people but ends up following someone who notices. Many scenes appear out of sequence - Bill begins sporting a black eye long before we see the scene in which he gets it. It is well constructed, tightly plotted, brilliantly acted and not easy to guess. Recommended.
Priorities
Here's an interesting thing. My boiler has broken down and I am waiting in at home for a heating engineer to come later today. I am mainly working in the lounge, which has a gas fire, not my study, which is centrally heated when the heating is working which it isn't.
I use a PC not a laptop and the PC is in the study so, apart from checking for messages and texts using my phone, I am not able to do much writing, admin or correspondence.
In the light of this I have had to reprioritise my things-to-do list and have done all those tasks which can be undertaken in the warm room in the house. Items that were way down the list have been done such as tidying out my Trendlewood box (stuff I keep to use in all-age services from time to time), writing up my various quote and note books and phoning people who were not urgent to phone.
Some things simply never get up the priority scale unless the rules change. What opportunities does the bad thing that just happened leave you with?
Posted hastily before fingers fell off.
I use a PC not a laptop and the PC is in the study so, apart from checking for messages and texts using my phone, I am not able to do much writing, admin or correspondence.
In the light of this I have had to reprioritise my things-to-do list and have done all those tasks which can be undertaken in the warm room in the house. Items that were way down the list have been done such as tidying out my Trendlewood box (stuff I keep to use in all-age services from time to time), writing up my various quote and note books and phoning people who were not urgent to phone.
Some things simply never get up the priority scale unless the rules change. What opportunities does the bad thing that just happened leave you with?
Posted hastily before fingers fell off.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Dear David Blunkett
I heard David Blunkett on The World at One complaining that the problem with the single transferable vote system (STV) was that those who voted for the least popular candidates got more votes than others.
If you are not familiar with STV, you vote by expressing a preference - placing the candidates in order - for as long as you have a preference. So take this election result:
Tilley 25
Johnson 23
Jones 13
Smith 7
Blunkett 2
Under first past the post (FPTP) Tilley would have been elected. Under STV the winner needs more than 50% of the vote so the target is 36 votes.
So Blunkett is eliminated (loving that sentence). The votes for the eliminated candidate are reallocated to their second choice. Both Blunkett voters voted for Johnson as their second choice so the result is now:
Tilley 25
Johnson 25
Jones 13
Smith 7
Blunkett (eliminated)
Now Smith is eliminated and the second choices of the Smith voters re-allocated. We get:
Tilley 30
Johnson 27
Jones 13
Smith (eliminated)
Blunkett (eliminated)
Finally Jones is eliminated and second choices allocated giving a final score:
Tilley 33
Johnson 37
Johnson is duly elected. If any of the transferred votes go to candidates who are later eliminated then third choices come into play.
What the real Blunkett fails to realise is that not only the eliminated candidates' voters get a second or third vote. Everyone does. It is simply that the second and third votes can continue to be for the first choice candidate.
It is a shame that Blunkett is championing a retention of the so obviously unfair FPTP system whilst demonstrating a failure to understand STV.
If you are not familiar with STV, you vote by expressing a preference - placing the candidates in order - for as long as you have a preference. So take this election result:
Tilley 25
Johnson 23
Jones 13
Smith 7
Blunkett 2
Under first past the post (FPTP) Tilley would have been elected. Under STV the winner needs more than 50% of the vote so the target is 36 votes.
So Blunkett is eliminated (loving that sentence). The votes for the eliminated candidate are reallocated to their second choice. Both Blunkett voters voted for Johnson as their second choice so the result is now:
Tilley 25
Johnson 25
Jones 13
Smith 7
Blunkett (eliminated)
Now Smith is eliminated and the second choices of the Smith voters re-allocated. We get:
Tilley 30
Johnson 27
Jones 13
Smith (eliminated)
Blunkett (eliminated)
Finally Jones is eliminated and second choices allocated giving a final score:
Tilley 33
Johnson 37
Johnson is duly elected. If any of the transferred votes go to candidates who are later eliminated then third choices come into play.
What the real Blunkett fails to realise is that not only the eliminated candidates' voters get a second or third vote. Everyone does. It is simply that the second and third votes can continue to be for the first choice candidate.
It is a shame that Blunkett is championing a retention of the so obviously unfair FPTP system whilst demonstrating a failure to understand STV.
Bored
Not especially bored. And not so bored as to write a post about whether it's bored with or bored of. Who, frankly, cares?
No I'm bored with one very specific bit of my life.
And my Dad used to tell me that if I was bored I must be a cabbage. He was kind like that.
Once upon a back in the time was I used to have a long drive to work. 45 minutes across the Birmingham rush hour and over four years I avoided most of the other cars most of the time and enjoyed the Radio 1 breakfast show to boot. If I felt complacency coming on I would vary my route a little. I was in my early twenties. More likely to be bored then than today but avoided it.
These days I live a one and a half mile walk or 1.8 mile drive from Holy Trinity Church where I go up to three times a day four or five times a week. There is no possibility of varying the route. I have migrated to Radio 4 and only catch snippets of a programme on the way.
The drive takes 6 or 7 minutes. I do need to concentrate a bit because once I get off the estate I come to a junction and occasionally there is another car there.
How can I use the time better? Don't say 'walk' or 'cycle.' Or 'work at the church.' I'll explain why not if you really want to know. Just help me to make the most of those six minutes. Ta.
No I'm bored with one very specific bit of my life.
And my Dad used to tell me that if I was bored I must be a cabbage. He was kind like that.
Once upon a back in the time was I used to have a long drive to work. 45 minutes across the Birmingham rush hour and over four years I avoided most of the other cars most of the time and enjoyed the Radio 1 breakfast show to boot. If I felt complacency coming on I would vary my route a little. I was in my early twenties. More likely to be bored then than today but avoided it.
These days I live a one and a half mile walk or 1.8 mile drive from Holy Trinity Church where I go up to three times a day four or five times a week. There is no possibility of varying the route. I have migrated to Radio 4 and only catch snippets of a programme on the way.
The drive takes 6 or 7 minutes. I do need to concentrate a bit because once I get off the estate I come to a junction and occasionally there is another car there.
How can I use the time better? Don't say 'walk' or 'cycle.' Or 'work at the church.' I'll explain why not if you really want to know. Just help me to make the most of those six minutes. Ta.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Abbots Pool
This is Abbot's Pool at Abbot's Leigh (yes the hymn tune is named after the place). The monks built the dam in order to have a source of fresh fish for the monastery. It is a beautiful tranquil place for a bit of a ponder. Has a certain spirit of wandering monkishness.
Policing the Internet
When the motorway system was developed in this country there were not, at first, central crash barriers or speed limits. My Dad took the family for a spin on the newly opened M1 (the excitement we had of driving to Watford Gap service station is hard to believe) and, seatbeltless, we did a ton in a Ford Zephyr (beyond belief).
Designers of motorways either had no idea how stupid people would be or simply didn't anticipate the problem of folk trying to do a U-turn with traffic coming in the opposite direction at 100mph. Amazingly, nobody noticed that travelling at 100 mph two feet from a piece of glass that may stop suddenly was a bit daft. Welcome seat belts, central reservations, air bags and crumple zones with gratitude to those who were scarred to make us realise we needed them.
This is about the internet folks. It's a new motorway. We have no idea what safety measures we will need to build in. In fifty years time we will look back with amazement at the way we travelled on it unprotected.
Two recent stories illustrate this.
Paul Chambers was found guilty of sending a 'menacing electronic communication.' His 'crime'? Back in January, frustrated at an airport being closed, he tweeted: 'Crap! Robin Hood Airport is closed. You've got a weekend and a bit to get your shit together, otherwise I'm blowing your airport sky-high!'
In a show of solidarity many tweeters have retweeted his message, in effect saying 'Fine me too.'
The problem with this conviction, and I hope Chambers gets off on appeal, is that in order to find the communication menacing, a judge had to be convinced that an average, reasonable person would be alarmed. And look at the tweet with its exclamation marks, its style and, of course, its lack of anonymity. Any reasonable person can see it's a joke and not alarming. Yes they can your honour. Not very funny, but that is not the point. Effectively Chambers was saying to his followers, probably mainly friends and acquaintances, that he was frustrated. No more; no less.
We seem to have another out-of-touch judge moment to put alongside 'Who is Gazza?' and 'Are the Beatles a popular beat combo?'
Offences committed within popular culture have to be judged within that culture. Judges often seem to come from elsewhere.
To our second story. I gather Bishop Pete Broadbent is now on gardening leave after an unfortunate republican rant on royal weddings. Catch up here. It may be true that the next royal wedding will have a short shelf life. It may not. The only decent test of prophecy is whether or not it comes true. Notwithstanding the fact that it is possible to wish a royal couple well in their marriage whilst hoping that one day we might become a republic, the Bishop's comments could, reasonably, have been expected to cause offence and he has had to apologise.
No policing or rules will ever stop this sort of thing happening. Only self-awareness and the understanding, repeat it and retweet it again and again until tired, that something put on the internet is there for everyone to see for ever. You may regret that. So might I.
Designers of motorways either had no idea how stupid people would be or simply didn't anticipate the problem of folk trying to do a U-turn with traffic coming in the opposite direction at 100mph. Amazingly, nobody noticed that travelling at 100 mph two feet from a piece of glass that may stop suddenly was a bit daft. Welcome seat belts, central reservations, air bags and crumple zones with gratitude to those who were scarred to make us realise we needed them.
This is about the internet folks. It's a new motorway. We have no idea what safety measures we will need to build in. In fifty years time we will look back with amazement at the way we travelled on it unprotected.
Two recent stories illustrate this.
Paul Chambers was found guilty of sending a 'menacing electronic communication.' His 'crime'? Back in January, frustrated at an airport being closed, he tweeted: 'Crap! Robin Hood Airport is closed. You've got a weekend and a bit to get your shit together, otherwise I'm blowing your airport sky-high!'
In a show of solidarity many tweeters have retweeted his message, in effect saying 'Fine me too.'
The problem with this conviction, and I hope Chambers gets off on appeal, is that in order to find the communication menacing, a judge had to be convinced that an average, reasonable person would be alarmed. And look at the tweet with its exclamation marks, its style and, of course, its lack of anonymity. Any reasonable person can see it's a joke and not alarming. Yes they can your honour. Not very funny, but that is not the point. Effectively Chambers was saying to his followers, probably mainly friends and acquaintances, that he was frustrated. No more; no less.
We seem to have another out-of-touch judge moment to put alongside 'Who is Gazza?' and 'Are the Beatles a popular beat combo?'
Offences committed within popular culture have to be judged within that culture. Judges often seem to come from elsewhere.
To our second story. I gather Bishop Pete Broadbent is now on gardening leave after an unfortunate republican rant on royal weddings. Catch up here. It may be true that the next royal wedding will have a short shelf life. It may not. The only decent test of prophecy is whether or not it comes true. Notwithstanding the fact that it is possible to wish a royal couple well in their marriage whilst hoping that one day we might become a republic, the Bishop's comments could, reasonably, have been expected to cause offence and he has had to apologise.
No policing or rules will ever stop this sort of thing happening. Only self-awareness and the understanding, repeat it and retweet it again and again until tired, that something put on the internet is there for everyone to see for ever. You may regret that. So might I.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Black-headed Gulls
There are quite a lot of black-headed gulls in the photo above. They don't have a black head in the winter, just a smudgy neck marking. When I took the picture they were transitional.
Between the lake and the car park is a crash barrier and the gulls like to perch on it. If scared they all, obviously, fly around a bit and then slowly come back in to land.
The metal bar at the top of the barrier is wider than their talons can grip easily and slippery when wet. They have to employ a fair bit of balancing and flapping to come to rest on it.
What I noticed is that, once a few have perched and got a grip, there is an easier way to land. You simply aim for the middle of the back of an already-perched bird, knock it to the floor and take its place. Hilarious, especially the dethroned who then peck around the grass a bit with an 'I meant that, you know' attitude. Who likes to own up to being bullied?
Between the lake and the car park is a crash barrier and the gulls like to perch on it. If scared they all, obviously, fly around a bit and then slowly come back in to land.
The metal bar at the top of the barrier is wider than their talons can grip easily and slippery when wet. They have to employ a fair bit of balancing and flapping to come to rest on it.
What I noticed is that, once a few have perched and got a grip, there is an easier way to land. You simply aim for the middle of the back of an already-perched bird, knock it to the floor and take its place. Hilarious, especially the dethroned who then peck around the grass a bit with an 'I meant that, you know' attitude. Who likes to own up to being bullied?
Monday, November 22, 2010
Us v Nehemiah
It's time to fix
So take your picks
And make the mix
Then lift the bricks
And then the bits
Of grit will fit
And soon the city
Which we pitied
Will get back to nitty-gritty.
So work hard
And set a guard
And make the wall
Again as tall
And not to fall
Cos all in all
This holy call
Is a long haul
And not a dawdle.
Then the Lord'll
Raise the gifts
And give the lift
And mission shifts
To the next list
Of folk to reach
And crowds to teach
And so to each
A chance to seek
The reason for the task we've peeked.
(Evening service at Holy Trinity, Nailsea 21/11/10)
So take your picks
And make the mix
Then lift the bricks
And then the bits
Of grit will fit
And soon the city
Which we pitied
Will get back to nitty-gritty.
So work hard
And set a guard
And make the wall
Again as tall
And not to fall
Cos all in all
This holy call
Is a long haul
And not a dawdle.
Then the Lord'll
Raise the gifts
And give the lift
And mission shifts
To the next list
Of folk to reach
And crowds to teach
And so to each
A chance to seek
The reason for the task we've peeked.
(Evening service at Holy Trinity, Nailsea 21/11/10)
Cafe Create November
Great night at the Nailsea cafe last Friday with a bill topped by some astonishing guitar picking by Mark Fuller and the best 'audience question' we have ever had. Fascinating to discover that after our 'Films reworked to cope with cutbacks' item the twitterverse was awash with the trend #boring prequels. Cafe Create is utterly in tune with the times and if you weren't there you missed an absolute treat of an evening. Until January 21st then. Call me for a performance slot.
So here is our list of films:
The Little Train Robbery
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Cubic Zircona Skull
Unemployed Girl
Moderate Expectations
The Bourne Disappointment
One Jumped Over the Cuckoo's Nest
One walked Over the Cuckoo's Nest
Star Disagreement
Star Tiffs
The Empire Strikes Backwards
Insufficient Postage on the Jedi or Return of the Jedi to sender
A Fist Full of Rupees
The Magnificent Six
The Magificent Three and a Half
Bearded Dragon Dundee
Harry Potter and the Quarter Blood Prince
Amble
The Medium Lebowski
99 Dalmations
One Dalmation
The 38 Steps
A Clockwork Segment
A Clockwork Tangerine
Lawrence of Weston-super-Mare
Gala Bingo Royale
Ocean's 10
Ocean's Still Recruiting
The Nine Commandments
Thousand Dollar Baby
Gone with the Breeze
Brokeback Molehill
Mission Quite Probable
Wind in the Bush
Reasonably Good Man
The Green Kilometer
The Green Metre
The Green Yard
Dead Poet
Eleven Monkeys
Sense
The Bridge of Madison County
Planes, Trains and Bicycle Clips
Toy Short Story
A Tale of One City
A tale of Two Small Villages
Where Sparrows Dare
Last Tango in Portishead
Last Tango in West Bromwich
The Six Million Zimbabwean Dollar Man
The Italian Part-time Job
Half a Thruppence
Around the World in 80 Years
Immigrant Cain
Asylum Seeker Cain
The English Still on the Waiting List
4 Cheap Weddings and an Eco-Funeral
4 Civil Partnerships and a Burial
Bronzefinger
Goldleaffinger
Jobless in Seattle
The Boy in Striped Boxers
Breakfast at Little Chef
Breakfast at MacDonalds
Texas Hacksaw Massacre
West Side Sentence
Bonny
The French Disconnection
A Bridge Not Far Enough
The Shortest Day
Extremely Brief Encounter
Homeless Alone
Raiders of the Basement Bin
The Failed Escape
Slumdog
Bedsit Rwanda
There Will Be Ketchup
Pirates of the Bristol Channel
When Harry Waved at Sally
Die Quickly
Snakes on a Hang-glider
One or Two Things I Hate About You
Girl with the Clip-on Ear-ring
So here is our list of films:
The Little Train Robbery
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Cubic Zircona Skull
Unemployed Girl
Moderate Expectations
The Bourne Disappointment
One Jumped Over the Cuckoo's Nest
One walked Over the Cuckoo's Nest
Star Disagreement
Star Tiffs
The Empire Strikes Backwards
Insufficient Postage on the Jedi or Return of the Jedi to sender
A Fist Full of Rupees
The Magnificent Six
The Magificent Three and a Half
Bearded Dragon Dundee
Harry Potter and the Quarter Blood Prince
Amble
The Medium Lebowski
99 Dalmations
One Dalmation
The 38 Steps
A Clockwork Segment
A Clockwork Tangerine
Lawrence of Weston-super-Mare
Gala Bingo Royale
Ocean's 10
Ocean's Still Recruiting
The Nine Commandments
Thousand Dollar Baby
Gone with the Breeze
Brokeback Molehill
Mission Quite Probable
Wind in the Bush
Reasonably Good Man
The Green Kilometer
The Green Metre
The Green Yard
Dead Poet
Eleven Monkeys
Sense
The Bridge of Madison County
Planes, Trains and Bicycle Clips
Toy Short Story
A Tale of One City
A tale of Two Small Villages
Where Sparrows Dare
Last Tango in Portishead
Last Tango in West Bromwich
The Six Million Zimbabwean Dollar Man
The Italian Part-time Job
Half a Thruppence
Around the World in 80 Years
Immigrant Cain
Asylum Seeker Cain
The English Still on the Waiting List
4 Cheap Weddings and an Eco-Funeral
4 Civil Partnerships and a Burial
Bronzefinger
Goldleaffinger
Jobless in Seattle
The Boy in Striped Boxers
Breakfast at Little Chef
Breakfast at MacDonalds
Texas Hacksaw Massacre
West Side Sentence
Bonny
The French Disconnection
A Bridge Not Far Enough
The Shortest Day
Extremely Brief Encounter
Homeless Alone
Raiders of the Basement Bin
The Failed Escape
Slumdog
Bedsit Rwanda
There Will Be Ketchup
Pirates of the Bristol Channel
When Harry Waved at Sally
Die Quickly
Snakes on a Hang-glider
One or Two Things I Hate About You
Girl with the Clip-on Ear-ring
Friday, November 19, 2010
Cafe Create November
Cafe Create is on at Nailsea Trinity Centre tonight. Live music from Rachel Coulson and Mark Fuller. Poetry from Judy Edwards with a new book to sell and all held together by me as dodgy compere and DJ. Come and chill.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Men's Ministry
OK. Let's start a movement. A little bird told me (it was on page 17 of the Times) that Big Willy (it's what she calls him apparently) and that commoner, millionaire's daughter Kate Middleton have plighted their troth. Now that's something many of us guys will be wanting to avoid so as soon as we get the date let's set up a shed load of men's events that are not the wedding. Don't get me wrong. I'm not against marriage. Just against marriage with a massive media spotlight and the hype. So shall we do something else? I've already dreamed up the best men's Bible study group ever modelled on Richard Bacon's beer and pizza evenings. Let's brainstorm.
By the way it was also on pages 1-16 of the Times, which is why I read the Guardian.
We might have to agree to watch the actual wedding to keep our partners company. I've just thought of another thing we can do; a training course in things-to-say-during-a-royal-wedding that make us sound interested and knowledgeable. James May may be able to help in his man's lab.
This could run and run.
By the way it was also on pages 1-16 of the Times, which is why I read the Guardian.
We might have to agree to watch the actual wedding to keep our partners company. I've just thought of another thing we can do; a training course in things-to-say-during-a-royal-wedding that make us sound interested and knowledgeable. James May may be able to help in his man's lab.
This could run and run.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Myers-Briggs in Japan
Interesting thought from a brief snippet of a radio programme I caught in the car yesterday afternoon. It was an interview with a woman who was tasked with translating the MBTI (Myers Briggs Type Indicator) personality questionnaire into Japanese.
She pointed out firstly that the Japanese have no concept of preference of one thing over another. They tend to know what it is right to say and consider it inappropriate to ever say the opposite. So, for instance, a question 'Do you have few or many friends?' It is clearly, in Japanese culture, desirable to have many friends. So nobody doing the MBTI in Japan would answer 'few.'
This presents some challenges for the question-poser. Fascinating.
I'm usually INTP by the way, with much flexibility over I/E and some over P/J but not the NT. I have few friends. If you didn't understand this try here.
She pointed out firstly that the Japanese have no concept of preference of one thing over another. They tend to know what it is right to say and consider it inappropriate to ever say the opposite. So, for instance, a question 'Do you have few or many friends?' It is clearly, in Japanese culture, desirable to have many friends. So nobody doing the MBTI in Japan would answer 'few.'
This presents some challenges for the question-poser. Fascinating.
I'm usually INTP by the way, with much flexibility over I/E and some over P/J but not the NT. I have few friends. If you didn't understand this try here.
Language Watch
There was something wrong with an interview Iain Duncan-Smith did last week on the Today programme but it has taken me a while for the penny to drop as to what. This is not about the content of his welfare reform package. Others will be able to pick the bits out of that much better than I. My one criticism, politically, is that a coalition government is a fudged government, a government without a democratic mandate and consequently it worries me profoundly how many major reforms are being pushed through without the country having voted for them. I say this as a political liberal although I don't necessarily ally that view with the views of the Liberal Democrats at all times.
No, my problem was with the word 'we.' In referring to an act carried out by the New Labour government a few years ago, with which he agreed, he said 'We have ... (done this thing which was good).' Which is great as a sign of co-operation and continuity if there is consistency. On talking about something the previous government did with which he disagrees will he equally claim that 'we.' I doubt it.
I resolve afresh to watch out for such linguistic creativity - taking credit for the good things a previous administration did whilst distancing yourself from their flaws. We won't be fooled.
No, my problem was with the word 'we.' In referring to an act carried out by the New Labour government a few years ago, with which he agreed, he said 'We have ... (done this thing which was good).' Which is great as a sign of co-operation and continuity if there is consistency. On talking about something the previous government did with which he disagrees will he equally claim that 'we.' I doubt it.
I resolve afresh to watch out for such linguistic creativity - taking credit for the good things a previous administration did whilst distancing yourself from their flaws. We won't be fooled.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Butternut Squash Soup
With apologies to those of you who could work it out for yourselves, this is my response to the demand on Facebook to publish the recipe. I am a member of the campaign for real recipes so will use metric and imperial depending on which is handiest. I will also tell it like it is.
The basic soup recipe is John Tovey's from the 1970s and is perfect. You need one onion per portion and 1oz of butter per onion. Sweat them and soften them until they're soft and sweaty. Add a glug of sherry per portion (so a quarter of a pint if you're serving about 6).
Meanwhile peel a medium butternut squash having first cut a one inch piece off the top to make tonight's pasta dish with roast butternut squash. De-seed and set a few seeds aside for later garnish.
Now I take the peelings, the seeds, a few bendy carrots, the odd firm outer cabbage leaf and basically anything else in the house that has moved on from eat-by to rot-by and stick it in a big pot with a couple of whole garlic cloves and a bay leaf and bingo, that will be my stock where bingo equals about three hours later. So you should have started this two hours before the soup but don't worry, you can get a usable stock in an hour and if necessary can use a veggie stock cube in its place or additionally. You will need about a litre of stock for three or four portions of soup.
Chop the squash meat into small bits (about a centimetre square) and add it to the onion and sherry mix. Add a two centimetre lump of fresh ginger, peeled and chopped finely, plus salt and black pepper.
Now, and this is important so stop speed-reading, put a double thickness of dampened greaseproof paper over the soup and cover with a lid. This allows steam to get out but keeps most of the liquid in the pan. Simmer on lowest setting possible for an hour. If you burn yourself on escaping steam when you check it hasn't gone dry, it hasn't gone dry. So don't check. Add some water to the pan now the steam has escaped and run your burn under cold running water for ten minutes.
Allow to cool then liquidize, adding the stock slowly as you go. You may have to do it in two batches to avoid flooding the work surface with soup when taking the liquidizer jug off. (Do you detect more bitter experience here readers?) Return soup to the pan and warm through when needed. Check seasoning.
Serve with crusty bread and butter. Garnish with a swirl of cream and some roasted pumpkin seeds.
The basic soup recipe is John Tovey's from the 1970s and is perfect. You need one onion per portion and 1oz of butter per onion. Sweat them and soften them until they're soft and sweaty. Add a glug of sherry per portion (so a quarter of a pint if you're serving about 6).
Meanwhile peel a medium butternut squash having first cut a one inch piece off the top to make tonight's pasta dish with roast butternut squash. De-seed and set a few seeds aside for later garnish.
Now I take the peelings, the seeds, a few bendy carrots, the odd firm outer cabbage leaf and basically anything else in the house that has moved on from eat-by to rot-by and stick it in a big pot with a couple of whole garlic cloves and a bay leaf and bingo, that will be my stock where bingo equals about three hours later. So you should have started this two hours before the soup but don't worry, you can get a usable stock in an hour and if necessary can use a veggie stock cube in its place or additionally. You will need about a litre of stock for three or four portions of soup.
Chop the squash meat into small bits (about a centimetre square) and add it to the onion and sherry mix. Add a two centimetre lump of fresh ginger, peeled and chopped finely, plus salt and black pepper.
Now, and this is important so stop speed-reading, put a double thickness of dampened greaseproof paper over the soup and cover with a lid. This allows steam to get out but keeps most of the liquid in the pan. Simmer on lowest setting possible for an hour. If you burn yourself on escaping steam when you check it hasn't gone dry, it hasn't gone dry. So don't check. Add some water to the pan now the steam has escaped and run your burn under cold running water for ten minutes.
Allow to cool then liquidize, adding the stock slowly as you go. You may have to do it in two batches to avoid flooding the work surface with soup when taking the liquidizer jug off. (Do you detect more bitter experience here readers?) Return soup to the pan and warm through when needed. Check seasoning.
Serve with crusty bread and butter. Garnish with a swirl of cream and some roasted pumpkin seeds.
Friday, November 12, 2010
The Social Network
Anyone who ever tried to follow a member of the cast down a corridor in The West Wing knows that concentration is everything when Aaron Sorkin is responsible for the words. He distilled American politics down into a thousand penetrative conversations. So we could get it.
Since The Social Network is a movie about a computer programmer it is a good job Sorkin is on the scene again. From the opening moments as Mark Zuckerberg spars with a girlfriend in a bar, trying to outwit her into staying with him (like, that ever worked), we discover that this movie is about geeks and nerds but told through witty banter.
The film is the story of Facebook, the brainchild of Zuckerberg when a student at Harvard, the account of the world's youngest billionaire and the court cases with those who felt he had stolen their intellectual property.
It's a great film. Roger Ebert has, as ever, written a cracking review and so those who want to know about actors, directors and the like go there. I just loved the fact that it is an intelligent movie which asks its viewers to be smart and keep up too.
You'll be exhausted by dialogue and delighted that the last few moments are told in text boxes of the 'what happened next' variety to wind it up. And you'll wonder if the outcome of those court cases (which never got to court) were fair. And you might even put a link to your review on Facebook. Let the synergy commence.
Since The Social Network is a movie about a computer programmer it is a good job Sorkin is on the scene again. From the opening moments as Mark Zuckerberg spars with a girlfriend in a bar, trying to outwit her into staying with him (like, that ever worked), we discover that this movie is about geeks and nerds but told through witty banter.
The film is the story of Facebook, the brainchild of Zuckerberg when a student at Harvard, the account of the world's youngest billionaire and the court cases with those who felt he had stolen their intellectual property.
It's a great film. Roger Ebert has, as ever, written a cracking review and so those who want to know about actors, directors and the like go there. I just loved the fact that it is an intelligent movie which asks its viewers to be smart and keep up too.
You'll be exhausted by dialogue and delighted that the last few moments are told in text boxes of the 'what happened next' variety to wind it up. And you'll wonder if the outcome of those court cases (which never got to court) were fair. And you might even put a link to your review on Facebook. Let the synergy commence.
Names
When I forget people's names they somehow know. Maybe it's because I have a rubbish poker face. Perhaps it's because I am, usually, good at names and so my not addressing someone by their name will seem out of character. I don't know.
If I can stand unobserved outside a crowded room of acquaintances or parishioners I can usually recall the names within a few minutes. If I can rehearse in my mind before an event the people I am likely to meet I can load my short-term memory with the names from the past (vicars do end up knowing an extraordinary amount of names) hiding in the crevices of the long-term memory. That woman coming up the drive? Ah yes, Mrs Mustard.
It is, of course, all a gimmick. If you remember the name of someone you met once, two years ago they will be impressed. So I write names down and review them from time to time.
Someone I know well is brilliant with people and hopeless at names. Let's call him Bill. Because he doesn't use people's names nobody spots that he doesn't know them. Bill is a people person because he is sincere not because he has a good memory.
I recall an axiom from the don't-tell-people-this-is-an-axiom book I haven't written. 'Sincerity is the greatest help in pastoral ministry; if you can fake that you've got it made.'
Yes indeed folks, and with a warning that infinitives will be badly damaged in the next bit, the best way to care for people, is to actually care. If you can't manage that then to apparently care will be indistinguishable.
It seems that recalling names is less important than liking people. Ah well. To the back of class I go.
If I can stand unobserved outside a crowded room of acquaintances or parishioners I can usually recall the names within a few minutes. If I can rehearse in my mind before an event the people I am likely to meet I can load my short-term memory with the names from the past (vicars do end up knowing an extraordinary amount of names) hiding in the crevices of the long-term memory. That woman coming up the drive? Ah yes, Mrs Mustard.
It is, of course, all a gimmick. If you remember the name of someone you met once, two years ago they will be impressed. So I write names down and review them from time to time.
Someone I know well is brilliant with people and hopeless at names. Let's call him Bill. Because he doesn't use people's names nobody spots that he doesn't know them. Bill is a people person because he is sincere not because he has a good memory.
I recall an axiom from the don't-tell-people-this-is-an-axiom book I haven't written. 'Sincerity is the greatest help in pastoral ministry; if you can fake that you've got it made.'
Yes indeed folks, and with a warning that infinitives will be badly damaged in the next bit, the best way to care for people, is to actually care. If you can't manage that then to apparently care will be indistinguishable.
It seems that recalling names is less important than liking people. Ah well. To the back of class I go.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Devil in Disguise?
I have a well-documented, and frankly well-moaned-about, allergy to furry animals.
The 'How can I resist evil?' Alpha session is the hardest one for me. It involves a complex understanding of the nature of religious language and metaphor, the reality of a world that includes suffering and a God of mercy and a variety of experiences from the punters some of whom face true adversity with resilience and others who blame the devil if they break a fingernail.
I have never been happy with my talks on this subject and last night's was no different, with one exception. Just as I had covered the material about the biblical imagery of the devil as a horned beast with a forked tail not being useful to take literally the door of our pub meeting room creaked slowly open.
Eyes went to the door but nothing entered at human height. Then, the fattest cat I have ever seen walked in and marched straight towards me (thanks Tim for the rescue operation).
That nails it folks. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion. Like. A. Roaring. Lion. A purring, furry depiction of evil. Get the cats before they get you folks. It's a war.
The 'How can I resist evil?' Alpha session is the hardest one for me. It involves a complex understanding of the nature of religious language and metaphor, the reality of a world that includes suffering and a God of mercy and a variety of experiences from the punters some of whom face true adversity with resilience and others who blame the devil if they break a fingernail.
I have never been happy with my talks on this subject and last night's was no different, with one exception. Just as I had covered the material about the biblical imagery of the devil as a horned beast with a forked tail not being useful to take literally the door of our pub meeting room creaked slowly open.
Eyes went to the door but nothing entered at human height. Then, the fattest cat I have ever seen walked in and marched straight towards me (thanks Tim for the rescue operation).
That nails it folks. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion. Like. A. Roaring. Lion. A purring, furry depiction of evil. Get the cats before they get you folks. It's a war.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Opinion
It is Sunday morning. It is drizzly on a day the forecast promised dry. It is not my most tiring day of the week (this week) because this week that was yesterday. Anyway I'm in danger of having to discuss the old 'Which is the first day of the week' question, about which I have no opinion.
And that is an interesting question for me. I wonder about you. About what things do you have no opinion? Concerning which matters do you not only not care but really not care?
As a pub bore, oops I mean vicar, I find it important to have opinions about a lot of things, or at minimum to know the next question to ask on any given subject, even if I find myself with a train-spotter.
But about what there don't I even want to go (what a sentence that was).
Colour. There's one thing. Maybe it's living with someone who has strong opinions about colour that has left me taking second place.
Design. Sort of follows, I guess. I am a triumph of function over style. Do not make the DVD player into a vase stand (darling). I'll get the words as right as I can; you make them look good.
No, even with those two there's a chink. If colour or design are horribly wrong I'll generate an opinion. I won't be able to tell right from wrong but I'll be able to tell wrong. That's why I don't wear fudge colours. Don't know why; it's just wrong.
I'll need to try harder. Test me. Ask my opinion on stuff and I'll see if I have one.
Today we are staking out an Old Rectory with hopes and dreams. Holy Trinity Nailsea, 1200. Laters.
And that is an interesting question for me. I wonder about you. About what things do you have no opinion? Concerning which matters do you not only not care but really not care?
As a pub bore, oops I mean vicar, I find it important to have opinions about a lot of things, or at minimum to know the next question to ask on any given subject, even if I find myself with a train-spotter.
But about what there don't I even want to go (what a sentence that was).
Colour. There's one thing. Maybe it's living with someone who has strong opinions about colour that has left me taking second place.
Design. Sort of follows, I guess. I am a triumph of function over style. Do not make the DVD player into a vase stand (darling). I'll get the words as right as I can; you make them look good.
No, even with those two there's a chink. If colour or design are horribly wrong I'll generate an opinion. I won't be able to tell right from wrong but I'll be able to tell wrong. That's why I don't wear fudge colours. Don't know why; it's just wrong.
I'll need to try harder. Test me. Ask my opinion on stuff and I'll see if I have one.
Today we are staking out an Old Rectory with hopes and dreams. Holy Trinity Nailsea, 1200. Laters.
Friday, November 05, 2010
Foals
Bit of a crush at an absolutely packed O2 Academy, Bristol for Foals last night. Haven't emerged from a gig so sweaty and beer-covered for yonks. Foals have been touring their mercury-nominated album Total Life Forever for a while now and although the music was played efficiently and effectively with bags of energy they seem in need of some new material.
I can't begin to imagine how dull it must get to play the same set for two years and, if suffering from this, they hid it reasonably well. I don't think most of the crowd realised that the frenzy they were getting in was not being induced by the music but a desire for frenzy whatever.
It's that strange combo of mid-tempo, rhythmically-pounding misery rock which had all the depressed students singing along (often in the wrong places), chatting and texting during the quieter instrumental breaks and photographing each other. Think of a Big Country/Editors/Talking Heads vibe and you'd be there.
Singer and guitarist Yannis Philippakis is a moody vocalist but a poor between-tune communicator. His nod in the direction of charisma was to go walkabout to the balconies towards the end of the show. Not spontaneous. He did it in Edinburgh too according to the Scotsman review.
Three stars.
Earlier Toro Y Moi had entertained us with some lovely soundscapes from his keyboard/bass/drums combo. Sounded interesting. Will investigate.
A lot of my reviewing these days seems to suggest, as I read it back, that I am too old for club gigs. Maybe true but given the demographic of the rock/pop audience they probably ought to want to keep us
I can't begin to imagine how dull it must get to play the same set for two years and, if suffering from this, they hid it reasonably well. I don't think most of the crowd realised that the frenzy they were getting in was not being induced by the music but a desire for frenzy whatever.
It's that strange combo of mid-tempo, rhythmically-pounding misery rock which had all the depressed students singing along (often in the wrong places), chatting and texting during the quieter instrumental breaks and photographing each other. Think of a Big Country/Editors/Talking Heads vibe and you'd be there.
Singer and guitarist Yannis Philippakis is a moody vocalist but a poor between-tune communicator. His nod in the direction of charisma was to go walkabout to the balconies towards the end of the show. Not spontaneous. He did it in Edinburgh too according to the Scotsman review.
Three stars.
Earlier Toro Y Moi had entertained us with some lovely soundscapes from his keyboard/bass/drums combo. Sounded interesting. Will investigate.
A lot of my reviewing these days seems to suggest, as I read it back, that I am too old for club gigs. Maybe true but given the demographic of the rock/pop audience they probably ought to want to keep us
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Risky Stuff
I wonder if anyone is looking?
In all sorts of places around the world there comes a time, usually in an otherwise little known town or village, where people decide to say 'Sod off' to risk. And whether they then chase a fully grown cheese down a hill, play ruleless football, have a massive tomato fight or decide to let a few bulls loose in the main street the result is the same - fun and injury.
I thought about this afresh as a few friends told me they were planning to go to Ottery St Mary for the tar barrels festival this week.
As nutters go these are brazils. A bunch of people will set alight to barrels of tar and carry them quickly through the town. The job of the spectator is best summarised as get-the-hell-out-of-the-way.
I think we accept the need to be molly-coddled by legislation a lot of the time. Without speed limits we probably would misjudge a safe velocity.
We also make very bad communal judgements about the inherent risks in things such as letting our kids walk to school. In fact the chance of a child being picked up by a stranger at my local schools is considerably less than that of being mowed down by a badly-driven people carrier which is shepherding children to their lessons.
And it is well known that the chance of winning the lottery jackpot is less than the chance of being killed on the way to buying a ticket (so play online or don't waste your £1).
But every now and again we just want to gob in the face of statistical analysis and do something inherently risky, daft and, blimey, fun and survive.
I don't think the jumping over the bonfire competition was incredibly wise when our then curate suggested it, and went first, back in 1971. But I understand the desire to do it. The question is almost 'Can I taunt the gods?'
And so we need to balance all the celebrities caught doing inappropriate things with the, presumably greater, number who got away with it. They wanted to risk it. Had an affair with a Prime Minister? Run naked in the woods? Gone in hard for a 40/60 tackle? Eaten food well past its best-before date? I think you are all part of the same spectrum. Playing with risk is human.
I'm banking my whole life on a person who used to be dead. I sometimes sing, 'Send your fire Lord.'
What do you do? I'm eating an old yogurt, naked.
In all sorts of places around the world there comes a time, usually in an otherwise little known town or village, where people decide to say 'Sod off' to risk. And whether they then chase a fully grown cheese down a hill, play ruleless football, have a massive tomato fight or decide to let a few bulls loose in the main street the result is the same - fun and injury.
I thought about this afresh as a few friends told me they were planning to go to Ottery St Mary for the tar barrels festival this week.
As nutters go these are brazils. A bunch of people will set alight to barrels of tar and carry them quickly through the town. The job of the spectator is best summarised as get-the-hell-out-of-the-way.
I think we accept the need to be molly-coddled by legislation a lot of the time. Without speed limits we probably would misjudge a safe velocity.
We also make very bad communal judgements about the inherent risks in things such as letting our kids walk to school. In fact the chance of a child being picked up by a stranger at my local schools is considerably less than that of being mowed down by a badly-driven people carrier which is shepherding children to their lessons.
And it is well known that the chance of winning the lottery jackpot is less than the chance of being killed on the way to buying a ticket (so play online or don't waste your £1).
But every now and again we just want to gob in the face of statistical analysis and do something inherently risky, daft and, blimey, fun and survive.
I don't think the jumping over the bonfire competition was incredibly wise when our then curate suggested it, and went first, back in 1971. But I understand the desire to do it. The question is almost 'Can I taunt the gods?'
And so we need to balance all the celebrities caught doing inappropriate things with the, presumably greater, number who got away with it. They wanted to risk it. Had an affair with a Prime Minister? Run naked in the woods? Gone in hard for a 40/60 tackle? Eaten food well past its best-before date? I think you are all part of the same spectrum. Playing with risk is human.
I'm banking my whole life on a person who used to be dead. I sometimes sing, 'Send your fire Lord.'
What do you do? I'm eating an old yogurt, naked.
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
Is it now?
Well how are we doing? Not in the Steve Wright full body check way (you should have two of everything down the side and one of everything down the middle). How does it feel to be in England on All Souls Day in November 2010?
It's grey outside. Kind of goes without saying. We pretty much fade to default grey about now until March or so. Temperature is dropping but if anyone out there finds that unexpected I'm not sure you're a native.
I guess I mean, compared to other places. The French are revolting over working a day over 60. The Yanks are bored with having an intelligent president and are trying to find someone stoopid to line up behind. The Indians are clearing up after the Commonwealth games, Pakistan is still clearing up after a flood. Chile is in good spirits because rescuing miners takes your mind off things. Greece, I think, is still broke. Afghanistan is still deadly. Iraq isn't rushing to embrace normality and Iran is trying to assemble a flat-pack nuclear silo. Spain won the World Cup so they still have feel good. China won't say and the Russians are trying to be chummy, probably because they're broke too.
Although it seems obvious that the BBC have decided to give the government a smooth ride and I would have expected that most folk would see through that, nevertheless the country seems, to me, surprisingly upbeat. Another atrocity might succeed and we'd all be very down, or very dead, although tracing the Yemeni parcel bombers back to the address they sent the parcels from seems to me to suggest that they aren't going to outwit us anytime soon.
But here meantime we seem to have stoically accepted that we need a tough few years to clear our debt and the argument is about the pace of the thing. We just about voted in a bunch who think quick is better than slow (their sex lives must be disappointing) and so we are knuckling down to everything being a bit rubbish for a few years while we cross our fingers that enough people will be earning money to spend it on things which grow businesses.
We've managed, so far, to only have a minor upset about a really quite important thing. But we've also had major upsets about really quite small things such as how much Rooney gets paid and how far you could throw Ann Widdecombe.
Getting stewed about the wrong thing eh? In a tabloid-world our problems are mis-shaped. But I find myself amongst people who are increasingly asking the question, 'Is this it?' Three score years and ten is now looking like four score for most of us but to what end?
The world lost its faith in meta-narratives (one big story that explains everything) a while back but maybe, just maybe, it is now regretting that nothing except short-termism (you can win and spend a million very quickly) replaced it. In the face of that, those of us who wake each morning with a whole story to make sense of the world afresh are beginning to be looked at again not with suspicion but with admiration. All the anti-faith writing of the liberal atheist constituency hasn't done much deconverting. Programmes on TV about people seeking solutions - in silence, in pilgrimage, in giving away their money, in the past, in alternative community - are rife.
I had breakfast with a bunch of guys on Saturday who were all longing to find ways to share their world-view with others but neither wanting to impose nor to get it wrong. Meantime they are doing things like running junior football teams and noticing the amount of kids with absent fathers, or organising the local British Legion poppy appeal.
And I have a hunch that the answer is not to push harder with our stories, not to become more overtly evangelistic (face it, that hasn't worked) but to carry on serving the community with our time and money because that's a good thing to do in its own right.
I just listened to a Rob Bell podcast from Mars Hill Bible Church about the parables of seeds in Matthew. He got some people to try and describe a painting or a piece of music and then asked if anyone else could tell what the pieces were from the words. Of course they couldn't. Writing about art is like playing guitar about gardening and you can make up your own metaphor about the music one. I don't see why you shouldn't do some work for a change.
The farmer lets the weeds and the crop grow side by side. He waits patiently.
There are enough clues in this life for everyone to get it. Despite the goodness of the seed (in this story) some falls where it ain't never going to grow properly. Some will hear and not get it; see and not get it, perceive and not get it. Get it?
I have a feeling there is about to be a spurt of those who get it round here (my locality, world-wide readers). The next few months could be real good. They might put economic woes into a different sort of perspective.
I apologise if you feel that there are too many Americanisms in this piece. It's the company I've been keeping. It certainly gave the spell-checker some work.
So what should I do about it? What should we do about it?
Wait. Hope. Rest. Pray.
Nothing else.
It's grey outside. Kind of goes without saying. We pretty much fade to default grey about now until March or so. Temperature is dropping but if anyone out there finds that unexpected I'm not sure you're a native.
I guess I mean, compared to other places. The French are revolting over working a day over 60. The Yanks are bored with having an intelligent president and are trying to find someone stoopid to line up behind. The Indians are clearing up after the Commonwealth games, Pakistan is still clearing up after a flood. Chile is in good spirits because rescuing miners takes your mind off things. Greece, I think, is still broke. Afghanistan is still deadly. Iraq isn't rushing to embrace normality and Iran is trying to assemble a flat-pack nuclear silo. Spain won the World Cup so they still have feel good. China won't say and the Russians are trying to be chummy, probably because they're broke too.
Although it seems obvious that the BBC have decided to give the government a smooth ride and I would have expected that most folk would see through that, nevertheless the country seems, to me, surprisingly upbeat. Another atrocity might succeed and we'd all be very down, or very dead, although tracing the Yemeni parcel bombers back to the address they sent the parcels from seems to me to suggest that they aren't going to outwit us anytime soon.
But here meantime we seem to have stoically accepted that we need a tough few years to clear our debt and the argument is about the pace of the thing. We just about voted in a bunch who think quick is better than slow (their sex lives must be disappointing) and so we are knuckling down to everything being a bit rubbish for a few years while we cross our fingers that enough people will be earning money to spend it on things which grow businesses.
We've managed, so far, to only have a minor upset about a really quite important thing. But we've also had major upsets about really quite small things such as how much Rooney gets paid and how far you could throw Ann Widdecombe.
Getting stewed about the wrong thing eh? In a tabloid-world our problems are mis-shaped. But I find myself amongst people who are increasingly asking the question, 'Is this it?' Three score years and ten is now looking like four score for most of us but to what end?
The world lost its faith in meta-narratives (one big story that explains everything) a while back but maybe, just maybe, it is now regretting that nothing except short-termism (you can win and spend a million very quickly) replaced it. In the face of that, those of us who wake each morning with a whole story to make sense of the world afresh are beginning to be looked at again not with suspicion but with admiration. All the anti-faith writing of the liberal atheist constituency hasn't done much deconverting. Programmes on TV about people seeking solutions - in silence, in pilgrimage, in giving away their money, in the past, in alternative community - are rife.
I had breakfast with a bunch of guys on Saturday who were all longing to find ways to share their world-view with others but neither wanting to impose nor to get it wrong. Meantime they are doing things like running junior football teams and noticing the amount of kids with absent fathers, or organising the local British Legion poppy appeal.
And I have a hunch that the answer is not to push harder with our stories, not to become more overtly evangelistic (face it, that hasn't worked) but to carry on serving the community with our time and money because that's a good thing to do in its own right.
I just listened to a Rob Bell podcast from Mars Hill Bible Church about the parables of seeds in Matthew. He got some people to try and describe a painting or a piece of music and then asked if anyone else could tell what the pieces were from the words. Of course they couldn't. Writing about art is like playing guitar about gardening and you can make up your own metaphor about the music one. I don't see why you shouldn't do some work for a change.
The farmer lets the weeds and the crop grow side by side. He waits patiently.
There are enough clues in this life for everyone to get it. Despite the goodness of the seed (in this story) some falls where it ain't never going to grow properly. Some will hear and not get it; see and not get it, perceive and not get it. Get it?
I have a feeling there is about to be a spurt of those who get it round here (my locality, world-wide readers). The next few months could be real good. They might put economic woes into a different sort of perspective.
I apologise if you feel that there are too many Americanisms in this piece. It's the company I've been keeping. It certainly gave the spell-checker some work.
So what should I do about it? What should we do about it?
Wait. Hope. Rest. Pray.
Nothing else.
Sony e-Reader 2
I blogged a few months back about problems with Mrs Mustard's portable electronic reading device, the Sony e-Reader. Read it here before this post will make sense.
So she gave it to our friend M (I won't print his name because he will end up swamped) in the knowledge that he would be the sort of person who would love fiddling about with it and since it was allegedly a write-off he could do no harm.
Well the lovely M diagnosed the precise fault we had reckoned - a dodgy on/off switch rocker or screw or something (I have no idea about the terms here) - and returned the device in perfect working order within a short period of time for the price of simply thank you and we owe him a favour.
I still think asking £176 minimum for such a repair is a con of the highest order and do not advocate anyone else risk their money, but I am pleased Mrs M is happy again and clicking away before lights out.
So she gave it to our friend M (I won't print his name because he will end up swamped) in the knowledge that he would be the sort of person who would love fiddling about with it and since it was allegedly a write-off he could do no harm.
Well the lovely M diagnosed the precise fault we had reckoned - a dodgy on/off switch rocker or screw or something (I have no idea about the terms here) - and returned the device in perfect working order within a short period of time for the price of simply thank you and we owe him a favour.
I still think asking £176 minimum for such a repair is a con of the highest order and do not advocate anyone else risk their money, but I am pleased Mrs M is happy again and clicking away before lights out.
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