I usually travel to work first class - we live on a branch line so the upgrade isn't too pricey and it means I can get some work done in peace and quiet.
Now, going home again the train is very busy between London Bridge and East Croydon. The other day it was so busy that the train was overflowing. A bunch of people (sensibly) came into the first class bit (the train is madly full, who cares where you end up). One businessman got on the train right before it left and stood at the end of First Class and announced (loudly and pompously) "I assume everyone in here has a first class ticket because I'm not bloody standing here without a seat if you lot shouldn't be here". Anyways, this rasta gets up and says "Look, if you feel that strongly about it, take this seat - I'm only in here because there's no room anywhere else". Arrogant prat sits down, the rest of the compartment resist the urge to tell him what an arsehole he is.
So, yesterday, Arrogant Prat is on my train home again. Along with his kids who have come home from either boarding school or university (not sure which) but it was clearly overseas because they were moaning about the flight. The ticket inspector comes round to check tickets. Arrogant Prat has to pay a fine because he only bought his kids second class tickets (Uckfield is an open station so you can just walk out without a ticket check if they don't do one on the train).
Arrogant Prat gains my nomination as hypocrite of the year.
I've been thinking (far too much about CCTV) recently. A couple of articles on the register (http://www.theregister.co.uk/2008/10/28/police_photography_guidance/ and http://www.theregister.co.uk/2008/08/23/camera_analysis/) come to mind. Even the Daily Mail (yuck, spit) has articles about this sort of thing.
Now, we have all those CCTV cameras, we have police CCTV vans, we have traffic wardens wearing webcams. What happens if we start photographing back? Take a picture of a CCTV camera (or a van). Post it online.
Someone else must have thought of this before.
Many children have imaginary friends. Owen has an imaginary police force. He talks about 'my police' a fair amount. He explained to his great-grandfather recently that he had cooked a whole salmon for his police. The other day he told me that, when I can't see him, it's because he's in his police station.
He just explained the plot of Wall-E to Emily. Apparently, he went to see it, with his police, in London.
Ho hum.
There's a difference in behaviour between ADE and the Sony Reader. ADE displays the first file in the <spine> element as the first file in the output. The Sony Reader appears, in the presence of a page map file, to display the first file in the page map.
That's a bit of a problem when the first thing to display should be the cover page. We don't want to see a page number on the cover page. There's a workaround that seems to work for both - put the cover page into the page map file using something like:
<page name=' ' href='cover.html'/>
We are not fans of dodgy workarounds. Oh well.
Last week we took Owen (and Pete but he wasn't really paying attention) to Loch Ness. As we drove along the lakeside Em was trying to explain about the lake and the monster. It went something like this:
Em: It's a deep and spooky lake and some people think there's a monster in it.
[Owen appears to ponder this and, a few minutes later...]
Owen: Mum, how did they get the spooky in?
[Em tries to explain what spooky means. She appears to manage to explain this. But, a few minutes later...]
Owen: What flavour spooky?
Me/Em: Huh?
Owen: I'm guessing lime flavour.
Em: Owen, what do you think 'spooky' means?
Owen: It's everything in the world all mashed up and mixed with orange juice.
Me: Owen, that's a smoothie.
Owen: No, not with trees in it.
"Spiderman killed all the dinosaurs because they were too stompy"
"Spiderman has a manager, he tells him what to wear"
The liberties of a people never were, nor ever will be, secure when the transactions of their rulers may be concealed from them. -Patrick Henry, revolutionary (1736-1799)
That's one of the reasons that I read A.Word.A.Day (wordsmith)
I was blundering around google, looking for software that might let me synthesize pseudo-bold and italic versions of a Roman font when I found this - http://www.alphabetsynthesis.com/.
Nice art project that evolves 'imaginary' alphabets.
Went to Wakehurst again yesterday. The irises were blooming. They were lovely. Pete came along in Em's sling. Owen came along begging to be carried by Daddy (Daddy resisted).
Well, at 3:58pm on Friday, Peter Nathaniel Gibson was born. Emily and Peter are doing just fine, spending a few days relaxing at the birthing centre. It's been an interesting few days:
Saturday 5th
Baby due. Nothing happens.
Friday 11th, 9:00am ish
Em thinks that she's having a contraction. Call my mum to warn her.
10:45am
Definitely having contractions, call birthing centre. They say come in when the contractions are five mins apart.
11:00am
Call mum, she's on her way... Find someone for owen to play with until my mum gets here.
12:15pm
Owen off to Lewis' house.
12:45pm
Getting ready to go. Head to Crowborough. Five mins between contractions.
1:15pm
In Crowborough. Three mins between contractions.
1:45pm
Emily into birthing pool, contractions scary looking from the outside.
3:58pm
Baby! Peter's born. He's lovely. He's 8lb, 7oz (one more ounce than big brother)
5:00pm
Call mum. Owen announces to all of Pizza Express that he's a big brother now.
Hmmm. No placenta. Problems. Midwives give syntocinon (sp?). Nothing happens.
5:15pm
Ambulance called.
5:30pm
Emily taken to Pembury Hospital. Small problem for Nic and Peter as they are left behind and don't know where Pembury is...
5:50pm
Peter gets to go in a car at less than two hours old. We try to find the hospital.
6:15pm
We find the hospital. We find the delivery suite, we find Emily
6:45pm
The obstetrician takes Em to theatre and we wait in a very boring and very empty room.
7:45pm
Em comes back. Procedure successful. No trauma. No cutting. All good.
8:30pm
Emily and Peter admitted to maternity ward overnight. She gets a private room. This is good. The ward is loud and impersonal. It *is* very clean.
11:00pm ish
I head home and go to bed.
Saturday, 10:00am
I head to the hospital and wait until 2ish with Emily and Peter until the hospital decides that Em doesn't need a transfusion and that they will let her go back to the birthing centre.
2pm
We drive back to Crowborough. Emily is admitted to the birthing centre.
3pm
Owen, mum and my sister arrive. Peter gets to meet his big brother when he finally decides to wake up. Big brother is exceedingly impressed. Hard to tell what Peter thinks of him.
6:30pm
I go home. Em and Peter try to get some sleep...
Right. Two boys. Let's see where that goes then.
