Skinny Cupertino

Apparently, there’s an actual term for that fucking annoying thing that mobile phones do when you’re typing a text. You know – when you’re typing happily away, hit ‘send’ and then re-read your text to find that it’s auto-corrected about nine different words and now it reads like something a drunk tramp might shout at you from across the road. It’s known as the ‘Cupertino effect.’ This slightly bizarre name comes from the way that in some early word processors, the auto-correct facility built in to the software would change the word ‘co-operate’ to ‘Cupertino.’ Incidentally, Cupertino is a place in America where Apple Inc. is based. Who’d have thunk (auto-correct that, Blogger) that a name existed for such a random thing. Got me thinking (thunking?) though. I reckon I’ve discovered something that doesn’t have a name. Yet.

When I was out running a few weeks back, I noticed something a bit...odd. Well, two things actually. The first thing was that it was sunny. Let me repeat: it was sunny. For those unfamiliar with the term, ‘sunny’ means that the sky was a rich blue, there were no clouds, the sun was out and it was pleasantly warm. I know – hard to believe, right?! But there you go. A side effect of these alien conditions was that most of the trees I was running under or beside were casting shadows all along the paths and roads, and it is here that I noticed the thing that I cannot find a name for.

Basically, as I was running along I noticed that my own shadow, whenever it passed through the shadow of the tree branches, caused the outlines of them both to ‘shimmer’ momentarily. It’s really hard to describe in words and I doubt even a really good camera would be able to capture the effect properly, but trust me – the edges of the two shadows ‘break up’ as they pass through each other, and when you’re in constant motion (as I was, running), it’s really noticeable because your eyes adjust to following the pattern of your own shadow busting through all of these over-lying ones. This probably sounds like the ramblings of a fucking nut job, but trust me, it’s true. So, next time you’re stupid enough to go running and it also happens to be sunny (talk about infinitesimally minute odds), run under some trees and check out the fucked up kaleidoscope shadow stuff that’s going on. As I can’t find an actual term for this phenomenon online (or any reference to it whatsoever), I’m jumping in and calling it the CHarnock Refractive Interfering Shadow Theory. Or CHRIST for those among us who enjoy an acronym – I know I do. On second thoughts, that acronym might already be in use...but, y’know, sod it.

Use my new-fangled theory wisely and always credit me in your thesis...or I’ll bust through your bedroom window at night and destroy you with a cold fusion gun. Peace.

Take The Weather With You?

Seriously, this incessant shitty weather needs to fuck off. I honestly can't recall a period in my 30 years of life where it has been so constantly grey, windy, cold and rainy as it has for the past few months. Jesus - it's fucking August for fucks sake...and look at it. Look at it! It's blowing a gale, the sky is the colour of Rab C. Nesbitt's vest and the rain is coming down in sheets. I know there's been some talk of this 'jet stream' thing fucking up our summer, but to be fair I'm not interested. All I'm interested in is that its August and we've had one day of sunshine. Fuck - June and July were bad enough, but now we look set for yet another month of horrific weather.

It's an old cliché that us Brits are a little bit obsessed with the state of our generally miserable weather, but I feel I have special dispensation to be a little bit bored of it this year. I spend a fair amount of my time outside, what with my running, cycling and being a motorcyclist so I feel that it affects me more than your average moaning twat and it just seems that for every hour of sunshine we've been treated to recently, we've have to pay the penalty of 20 days of incessant torrential rain in lieu. It doesn't look like it's going to get any better any time soon either, so wet jeans, soggy money, water-damaged phones and sopping shoes are (sadly) going to be with us for a good while yet. Fucking weather. Fucking Olympic athletes jetting off home to sunny countries. Damn them. "Cheers for the medals, London - we're all off home to top up our tans by the pool..." is what I'd imagine most of them are thinking. Jealous? Fuck yes I'm jealous.

Speaking of London/the Olympics - that closing ceremony was pretty good. There were points where I was convinced that the acts were miming (One Direction most definitely were), but after a while I was happy that what I was seeing was just a delay between the performer singing and the sound catching up with the TV picture. I hope. And if they were miming and it wasn't just an audio/visual delay...then damn. That was some pretty shocking miming. So yeah, it was pretty entertaining and I think it was a very well put together concert/performance/thing. Don't really know what's happened to Liam Gallagher's voice like, but very good all in all. Apart from the bit with Russell Brand. And the Spice Girls. Ultimately though: Rio de Janeiro - the gauntlet for both the opening and closing ceremonies has truly been thrown down (in a puddle).

I had a slightly weird experience earlier on today. I'm currently staying with my significant other in the lovely (if wet, grey and windy (see above)) county of Dorset. This morning I went for a run that took me past the little graveyard in which TE Lawrence (aka Lawrence of Arabia) is buried. I went in, looked at his headstone, and then turned around to continue my run. As I turned the corner, I found myself on a very long, very straight country road that was completely enclosed by trees, and in the distance there was what appeared to be a white figure. I continued running onwards down this lane and the figure slowly but surely grew in size...just like the bit in the opening scene of the film Lawrence of Arabia starring Peter O'Toole! I must admit that I was a little bit freaked out by what was unfolding, especially seeing as this particular road was deadly quiet and there were no other runners or cars around due to the early hour. Was this an apparition of TE Lawrence coming toward me? Was it Peter O'Toole on horseback out for a morning ride? Was I hallucinating having just been to his grave? Alas no - it was a silver Toyota 4x4. But this experience just illustrates the kinds of problems I have when I put my contact lenses in the wrong eyes.

Speaking of running, I'm taking part in the East Manchester 10k race next Sunday. My third event of the year after the 20k and the half marathon and should be quite easy after those aforementioned races. So 10k...that's 10,000 metres right?! Mo Farah did that in 27:30 at the Olympics the other day. I did it this morning in 41:09. Watch out Mo...I'm only, er, a few minutes behind you...

News you say?

I tried, I really did. I was determined that I wasn’t going to be one of those people who moan about the Olympics. Indeed, I was one of the people who quite clearly made my feelings towards the dissenters known: stop fucking moaning about increased traffic and an influx of tourists – the Olympics is great for our country and a perfect stage for us to show off to the rest of the world.

But I’m afraid I have to take a little bit of a step back from that opinion right now. Why? Have you tried to watch BBC News or ITN or even your local news over the past few days? All it consists of is repeated wall to wall coverage of people winning medals! Which is great...but c’mon – when does it become overkill? Sure, it’s fantastic that Team GB are kicking ass in so many different events...but why, oh why, do BBC News et al feel the need to show us endless repeats of Team GB winning medals and then have the same people sat on a couch being asked ridiculous questions about their achievement? For half an hour at a time. I kid you not – I put the news on last night: Dressage/Chris Hoy/those brothers who destroyed the Triathlon. And to them all I say well done. But to put the news on again this morning and be subjected to the same images, the same interviews, the same non-news? It’s a little bit tedious, wouldn’t you say? I want to hear the news. News. BBC News showed an 8 second snippet about the Bank of England issuing some new, more ominous warning about the double-dip recession...and then it was back to lycra-clad people crying and holding big golden coins. What juxtaposition.

Now, I want to state once again that I’m not an Olympic naysayer. I have maximum respect for the achievements of Team GB (except the SHIT men’s football team). I do not condemn the whole spectacle as nothing more than a waste of money, as some do. I haven’t even mentioned the ridiculous sponsoring of the event by fast food chains (oops). But please...let’s get some perspective here. Since when, I ask you, is some bloke winning a cycling race more newsworthy than a load of civilians being blown up by government soldiers? If you need 24hour coverage of the Games, there are various media outlets available that will cater for your (somewhat neurotic) needs. But I simply can’t condone the main news channels constantly pushing the Olympics into our faces. News should be news. Sport comes at the end. That’s how it should be on a news programme. Rant over.

Filling The Void

I remember when the iPad was announced. I baulked at it – even referring to it on this very blog as just a big iPhone. And I still stand by that, to be honest. What is the point of owning both an iPad and and iPhone? They are the same thing, just on different scales, right? And only the biggest idiot would own the whole range of iPad, iPhone and iPod Touch...right?! The iPod Touch is just an iPhone without the phone, and the iPhone is just a small iPad. Or am I missing the point? Furthermore, have you ever seen someone taking pictures with an iPad? How fucking ridiculous do they look? Just buy a frigging camera! Oh, wait – you can’t because you’ve spent £500 on an iPad. Idiot.

Right. Now that’s settled, I’ll get to the point: I bought a tablet PC this week. Which is a bit hypocritical of me considering a) the previous paragraph; and b) because I’ve always deemed tablets as a bit pointless. But I saw this particular tablet on sale for a ridiculously low price: £129.99. And it’s not one of those super-cheap, trashy Android tablets either, which is what you’d expect to get for £129.99. Oh no, it’s one of these:

A BlackBerry PlayBook. And do you know what? It’s fucking awesome. I primarily bought it because I do a lot of travelling around on my motorbike most weekends, and I generally take my laptop with me wherever I go just so I can get online and check email, the news, watch videos etc...but the thing just takes up so much room in my backpack and won’t fit in the luggage box. Now I own a 7” PlayBook, such problems are no longer...erm...problems. For a start, the thing is tiny – much smaller than an iPad. It’s also really thin too. My previous opinion of BlackBerry was that they were a bit shit...just business phones with a crap OS and no apps, advertised as a chav’s messaging device of choice...but the quality of the PlayBook has shed new light on the whole mysterious world of BlackBerry.

So yeah – it’s a tablet PC with a really sharp screen, two HD cameras (not that I’ll be using it to take photos – I’ve got a camera for that, idiots) and a brilliant web browser that even supports Flash. Amazing. It’s only a 16GB model so I probably won’t be filling it up with music or films, but from what I’ve seen of it thus far, I’m impressed. The app store thingy has come in for a bit of criticism from various reviewers, but I can’t really see a problem with it. It’s got more stuff on offer than the old Palm Pre app store did, and there are a lot more ‘proper’ apps, as opposed to stuff just written by enthusiasts. Not that there’s anything wrong with home brew apps...it’s just nice to see official stuff on there too. The battery life is great, the sound quality is top notch and the on-screen keyboard is really good (plus it makes a satisfying ‘blip’ noise when you touch a letter...nice touch). So far, I really can’t fault it – it does exactly what you’d expect a tablet to do and for the price I paid...well the term ‘bargain’ springs to mind. I think the price was only temporarily lowered so by this time next week they’ll probably be £299 again (or whatever they were before), so I recommend getting down to PC World to pick one up before they increase the price.

Obviously, the PlayBook isn’t a patch on the (cough) iPad (cough), but it destroys the various Android tablets knocking around for about the same price in terms of quality. It’s probably not going to compete with the high-end Android tablets from Samsung, Motorola et al simply because of the bespoke OS it’s running...but for £129.99 I’m not complaining. Incidentally, the PlayBook does actually support Android apps (apparently), so that's good news, but it's never going to defeat the all-conquering Apple app store/iPad.

And just for those (three) people who may be reading this shit and are thinking about launching into a tirade about how the iPad is great and I'm a dick who hates Apple - that isn't the case. I fully appreciate that the iPad is a great bit of kit and that Apple stuff is generally brilliant. I just like to point out that if you own an iPad, iPhone and iPod Touch, you are a fucking cretin. And Steve Jobs' soul owns your soul. And ass.

In other news, this week I went to see the new Batman film – The Dark Knight Rises. I was blown away by it. I saw the other two films in the trilogy on DVD because I just wasn’t that interested, and I thought the second one (with The Joker in it) was alright...if a little over-egged and confusing. But this latest one was fantastic. I went on Rotten Tomatoes and read an equal number of ‘fresh’ and ‘rotten’ opinions before I went to see it, so kind of had a neutral attitude...but I found the whole experience to be a whirlwind of excitement, great effects, brilliant story and fantastic plot twists. Looking at some of the reviews now I’ve actually seen the movie, I think some of the reviewers need to get a life and stop over-complicating things: it’s a film about a guy who dresses up like a bat and kicks ass...stop getting so het up about minor inconsistencies you knobs! Also, while it is true that Bain is sometimes hard to understand, it doesn’t really detract from the overall experience. So to the whining reviewers who rated The Dark Knight Rises as ‘rotten,’ I say this: get a grip and just enjoy it for what it is – a fantasy film.

I’ve written enough – I’m off for a sandwich.

Acid Reflux

Took part in my second half marathon of the year on Sunday. I say 'second,' but if you want to get technical it was my first, as the previous race was a '20k' race, which (if you want to get technical) is only about 12.5 miles. I actually came 3rd in that race (and 1st in my age category) and I still have no idea how that happened considering how horribly drunk I got at a party the night before.

Sunday's race started in similar fashion, as I went to a BBQ/pub session on Saturday afternoon/night and probably got slightly more inebriated than is advisable the day before a half marathon. Indeed, upon opening my eyes on Sunday morning, the last thing I wanted to do was even draw breath, let alone drag my arse over 13 miles of  hill and dale. But I somehow found the strength and with a little help from my significant other, a few hours later I was milling about amongst the crowd of neon-clad competitors at the race starting area. I also drew some motivation from the fact that one of my girlfriend's friends was also competing in her first ever half marathon, and she'd brought a small fan club with her who were also quite enthusiastic about my involvement too, so hats off to them. Anyway, the starting klaxon went and as it did, the massive acid reflux raging up my throat did nothing to help my case (damned real ale coming back for revenge). To be honest, the first couple of miles of a half marathon are pretty bad when you're hungover, but after you start to sweat out the toxins and you find your pace, it isn't so bad. In fact, I'm a firm believer that the sugar from the alcohol stored in your body actually helps with fatigue as the race goes on. Evidence? Of course: I finished the race in 27th place out of 410 runners, with a personal best time of 1:26:32. Not massivley impressive in the grand scheme of things (I didn't win, clearly) but I took part in the same race last year and finished 50th with a time of around 1:31:00, so to come in 20-odd places higher with a personal best time is pretty damn good - especially with a hangover! Next race is Bristol half marathon at the end of September.

Might get hammered the night before and see if I can continue this streak of improving times!

2012? You Sure...?

I went to watch some Olympic football yesterday evening. Not at the actual venue (Old Trafford), just in a pub in the centre of the town where I’m now (temporarily) residing. Yep, Team GB took to the field to take on the might of, erm, Senegal in their first game of the 2012 Olympics. As expected, it was a pretty boring game, especially seeing as Team GB is basically England Lite: A team made up of predominantly English footballers who weren’t good enough to be included in the shambolic line-up that Roy Hodgson took to the Euros...but with Ryan Giggs and Craig Bellamy thrown in just to qualify is as Team GB, and not England Lite. Just to be clear. Team GB, not England Lite. It ended 1-1 after Craig Bellamy’s well taken volley was cancelled out by a late Senegal equaliser. I didn’t see the equaliser though, as I’d left the pub and gone home by that point. Why? I’ll tell you:  It was down to the almost constant torrent of foul racist language, broadcast without any embarrassment, by quite a few members of the other inhabitants of the pub. I was disgusted, yes, but most of all I was disappointed. Disappointed that this kind of thing is still happening in today’s supposedly multi-cultural society.

A number of comments, ranging from laughing at Senegalese players’ names, to the berating of the black Team GB players, to the discussing of why these same black players shouldn’t be playing for Team GB were all flung about the bar. I suspect the vast majority of the people coming out with this drivel were pissed, as most of them looked like they’d been drinking in the sun all day, and not y’know, working. The generally tanned appearance of their tattooed arms and necks combined with the kind of slurred speech only attainable through sinking 12 pints of Strongbow in the afternoon sun gave the game away. What I guess I’m trying to say is that last night’s events told me all I needed to know about the town I’m (temporarily) residing in. Here we are, on the eve of the fucking Olympic Games, in the year 2012 and there are still people who think it’s either funny or clever to be openly racist. It makes me ashamed to be British that all the peoples of the world descend on these Isles, and are welcomed with open arms, when just under the crust, intense hatred bubbles away.

 It gets worse, by the way – before I’d even heard any of the shit coming from the amoebas dotted around the bar, I’d picked up a local newspaper that had been left on a nearby table. I opened it up to find that somebody had scrawled  in biro “dirty cheating paki’s” (sic) above a photograph of two muslim men who had been charged with benefit fraud or something. Now, I’m not Dr Watson (he was always the brains behind the Baker St operation), but I’ll wager that the person who wrote that delightful message doesn’t work either. And probably lives on benefits (possibly fraudulently). And is probably on the same intellectual level as the arseholes who think it’s funny to shout racist comments across a bar in 2012. How do I know this? Well, the crossword in the paper had been attempted and given up on (and most of the answers given were wrong anyway), and the jobs section at the back had a few pen marks around several labouring positions on offer, as well as a few scribbles and doodles in the page margin.

So to surmise, your honour: racist, uneducated and either out of work or looking to change professional direction. And I’m guessing that due to the location of the evidence (a fucking pub) it’s the former of the last point rather than the latter.

So there we are. Racism is alive and kicking in the town where I am currently (temporarily) residing. I totally understand that this incident (I’ll combine the newspaper and the comments as one occurrence to save space) is not indicative of the whole of our island nation’s society/values/beliefs etc, but it’s a little bit worrying given the fact that the motherfucking Olympics is being held a few hundred miles away. Thankfully, I’m only in this town temporarily and will be making an effort to relocate to a more cosmopolitan city as soon as is convenient. But not London. Too busy and full of fucking foreigners (see below).

Shock: Northerner endorses London!

I spent this weekend down south in our fair capital city. I spent a week down there earlier this year for work purposes, and the hotel I was put up in had no hot water for most of the stay (something about a dodgy boiler I believe), so as a consolation for having to endure cold showers and boiling a kettle to have a shave, the hotel kindly issued me with a voucher for a free night’s stay whenever I wanted. I didn’t think I’d ever use it to be honest, but being stuck for something to do this past weekend, I rang them up and called in my free night. So off my better half and I went to London.

We took a National Express coach, which was fine...apart from the fact that the chemical toilet at the rear of the vehicle stank like someone had emptied a demijohn of 3 week old piss into a super soaker and then emptied that all over the walls and ceiling. Seriously, the stench of piss from that cubicle was fucking vile...and on one of those coaches that has sealed windows and, conveniently, broken air-con...well, you get the idea. We moved to the front of the coach to escape the acrid fumes of urea but my heart went out to the poor bastards who had to sit at the back in the midst of them. Also – what is the deal with those new coaches? You know, the ones with the caterpillar antennae for wing mirrors? What fucking moron decided that having sealed, double-glazed windows was a good idea?

We got to London Victoria at about 1pm, so we spent the rest of Saturday visiting the various free museums in the locale. The Victoria & Albert was pretty cool – they’ve got some quite impressive displays in there, and you’d have to spend about a day to actually see all of it. It’s not on a par with the Louvre scale-wase, but the Louvre is just fucking ridiculous and offers an unrivalled opportunity for museum/gallery burn-out. You know – when you’ve seen enough old pots and paintings and you’re just wandering aimlessly and thinking about having a beer or a sandwich. After the V&A, we popped across the road to the Science Museum. I’ve been there quite recently so wasn’t massively surprised to find that most of it was still the same, but my companion had never been so we went in. I was mainly interested in seeing the new Alan Turing exhibition as he’s a bit of a legend in the field of computing, but the exhibition was a lot smaller that I expected and also a lot busier, so scope for enjoying it was minimal. Far too many people trying to take pictures of enigma machines and the Pilot ACE through glass with a camera with THE FLASH ON. Seriously, why? Turing would be spinning in his grave if he knew these morons were looking at his magnum opus and committing such offensive miscalculations of logic. Sadly he can’t, as he was cremated – but ‘spinning in the wind’ just doesn’t sound as good.

After the Science Museum we were going to try the Natural History Museum, but the queue looked similar to the one that’ll be spewing from the gates of Hades come Judgement Day, so we passed and headed to a nearby pub for light refreshment instead. After a quick tube trip and check-in at our (free) hotel, we found another decent pub and had several more drinks whilst watching some Australians play a version of cricket that involved lots of lager, kicking bottles and basically falling about. Much more entertaining than the boring shite you see on TV. So that was Saturday.

Sunday involved more of the same, plus a visit to Westminster Abbey (and the spot where I stood outside the Abbey for about 3 hours during last year’s Royal Wedding, not as part of the crowd but as a part of the naval contingent for the route lining – but that’s another post), the Houses of Parliament, The National Gallery, Trafalgar Square, Downing Street, Cleopatra’s Needle, Buckingham Palace and several parks and gardens. Finally, we got back on the coach (not the same one from Saturday’s journey, thankfully) and returned from whence we came. All in all, it was a really good weekend and really changed my opinion of London. Yes, it’s busy and congested and there are whole battalions of rude and arrogant people walking about (and swarms of foreign school kids wearing brightly coloured rucksacks and whom refuse to acknowledge you even exist as they march towards you)...but I couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer number of things to see and do and places to visit - most of which are completely free.

After visiting Paris a few years ago and being a bit shocked to find that virtually everything wasn’t free, I must eat a tiny morsel of humble pie and concede that London is actually a pretty decent place to visit. I wouldn’t really want to live there just because of how busy it is (the tube alone would drive me insane), but as a place to visit – it’s OK. Which is quite convenient really, considering the Olympics kicks off this week and the world and his wife are coming to visit. Wouldn’t want to be getting the tube at any point in the next two weeks though, and thankfully, I don’t have to.