Things I have thought about today

In no particular order:

• How long the gaffa tape holding my shoes together will last.
• Why don't barbeque falour crisps taste of metal and charcoal?
• The noise the automatic door closers make in our flat.
• Whether or not I will end up drunk tonight.
• SSH secure shell servers.
• Climbing, specifically what I will do on Sunday if it rains.
• Hormonally-motivated thoughts (which are none of your business thank you very much).
• I want the new Delgados album - am I too poor to buy it (answer is yes, but that may not stop me).
• How some friends have done in their exams.
• Lunch.
• Dinner.
• Snacks.
• How to fix the broken hoover.
• What I will be doing in 2 months time.
• Earth, Wind & Fire
• SHOUTING IN CAPSLOCK IS A WEAPON OF FEAR
• Going to Spain for New Year's celebrations.
• How to write a Masters Thesis.
• I hate shaving.
• I am poor.

And a myriad of other things that escape my memory right now.

Just in case you were wondering.

Boozohol Ate My Brain

I'll say it now just to get it out of the way - "I am never going to drink again".

Yet again I have been participating in the ritual of drinking onesself into a stupor, dancing to awful music in a crap nightclub (although I do love scrubway, it is very crap indeed) and then regretting it the next day. Why on earth do we poison ourselves in the name of fun? And who on earth decided to do tequila?

Having said which, I'm pretty sure last night wouldn't have been fun if I was sober. And there's no way I would have danced with all those girls like that either.

So it looks like I'll be doing it all over again Saturday night in the Clachaig.

God I'm stupid.

WOOOHAAAAA

I got y'all in check!

Goodbye Academia

Well, it's been all quiet on the weblog front of late, primarily because I've been making big life decisions and haven't had the mental energy to post.

I've decided to quit my PhD and cash in the work I've done so far for an MSc. The next step is then to get a job for a few years to save some money to pay for a teacher training to become your worst nightmare - an enthusiastic chemistry teacher!

I'm a bit terrified of the real world, but I spose I've got to face up to it sometime so here goes. Wish me luck!

Oh, I went Ice Climbing at the indoor ice wall in Kinlochleven the other week too, which was ace. Heartily recommended.

20 miliseconds into the future

Yesterday I took part in some psychological research to help with someone's PhD (and to earn myself an easy tenner).

It involved wearing what looked like a swimming cap with lots fo wires coming out of the top to measure the conductivity across my brain. Also, in order for the electrodes to work, a substance that looked remarkably like semen was injected into them, which not only added to the general discomfort of the headwear, but made me look like I'd been involved in some sort of foul porn film afterwards.

The idea was to measure brain activity whilst looking at pictures of faces and deciding which ones looked happy or neutral. I don't know how many I got right, but there was a significant amount of brain activity approx 20miliseconds before the computer showed any pictures. Thus I can conclude that I am psychic.

Ommmm.

Now if only I could see further into the future than 20ms I might have predicted how bad that gin was going to make me feel last night.

A Minute's Excessive Noise

Last night I heard that Imperial Music in Bristol had closed down.



During my years at university in Bristol, this shop was almost the sole source of all of my music. Not only was the selection of music they had there incredible, but the staff were friendly and obviously cared very much about making their customers happy. They even put little stickers on the CD cases giving a little review of what was inside (the reviews were always spot on).

It was much more than just a record shop to me and I shall miss it dearly.

I suggest that if you feel the same way you mourn its passing by turning up your stereo and staging a minute's excessive noise.

Karma

What a fantastic Sunday!

I hadn't been mountain biking since, oooh, 1998 so I was pretty excited by the prospect of getting on a fat-tyred velocipede and thrashing my way around the purpose-built trails of Glen Tress. I was a bit worried that I'd be quite rusty, but as soon as I got on the bike I realised that it's one of those things you don't forget. Just like... oh you know the proverb. (See how I insert a bad pun there without actually saying it - sometimes I marvel at my own subtlety).

So about half an hour later I find myself pumping uphill with my legs apparently full of liquid mercury and a heart rate faster than a hummingbird's. Who's stupid idea was this anyway? Er, mine I think. Maybe I was drunk or something. Surely I'd remembered mountain biking to be actual fun, but this was just torture.

Just as I was convinced that the last of my bodily moisture was about to be sweat away, I turned the corner onto a narrow track and then zwooosh. All the previous torture was forgotten as I plummeted down the twisty singletrack, every neuron and muscle working together to avoid each rock, lean into each berm and negotiate each drop-off. There isnt even time to be scared by the amount of skin you might lose if it all goes wrong as you hurtle through the trees. And then before you know it you're spat out the other side, utterly desperate for another adrenaline fix (which requires more leg-destroying uphills).

It's a bit lile sledging, only you can still feel your toes afterwards and it isn't cheating to use your brakes. Apparently I look like a grin on a bike when I'm riding.

To top the rest of the day off a whole bunch of us climbed up onto the roof of our flat last night to watch the Edinburgh Festival Fireworks. It was one of those dreich nights that gives the sky a malicious atmosphere so the firework display looked like tropical storm over the city. Even in the sopping drizzle you couldn't fail to be mystified.

I am however, beginning to think that the Buddhists have a point with that Karma stuff though because in contrast today has just been shite.

Customer Service

So hte other day I bought an album on a whim from Avalanche records. I'd heard of the band before and asked one of the staff if he thought it was any good. He said they were like the scottish Foo Fighters, so I thought ace, I'll give that a try.

Except it was pish. More like the Scottish Def Leppard than Foo Fighters.

So I took it back:

"What's your reason for returning it?"

"It's rubbish"

"We only do returns on damaged or faulty goods...

...But I agree, it is rubbish, I'll swap it. Have a free badge too."

I will certainly be shopping there again.

Rhythm is Important

I was just walking along last night (without my walkman, which is rare!) and I noticed that there was a hollow sound when my feet landed on the pavement. I took this to mean that the paving stones were loose and the sound was them moving.

As I took more steps I realised that I was actually walking in perfect time with the Ladyboys of Bangkok playing on the meadows. Maybe I would have made a good drummer after all, with timing like that.

Go East





Well, I'm back from Budapest. I sort of planned writing some sort of travelogue type thing about the whole experience, but to be honest I can't be arsed and seeing as I went there for a conference it will be about as interesting as listening to Embrace.

A week of intensive science, sightseeing, schmoozing and meat-eating have left me pretty wiped-out. I was staying in a very posh hotel, with a thermal spa and such things, which was nice, although I have discovered that I sleep badly and have weird dreams in hotels regardless of how posh they are. I am also suspicious that there is a conspiracy of carpenters who, regardless of which country I'm in, wait until I REALLY need some sleep before they start carpenting OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM WINDOW AT 6.30 IN THE MORNING. I wish a pox upon them and hope their stupid wooden creations catch fire, burning their faces off in the process.

Having said which, I met some ace people, ate some nice goulash and gazed slack-jawed at the myriad of attractive Eastern European girls who seem to just walk around looking gorgeous with no concern for my attention span whatsoever.

Another reason why there is no detail in my Hungary story is the fact that when the beer wasnt cheap, it was free. Large chunks of time have been replaced in my memory with the BBC test card and some nice elevator music. Occasionally a soft voice fades in to mention something about technical difficulties.