surbiton to hampton court to kingston

Did this yesterday (with a sunday roast + mascarpone cheesecake w/blueberries in the middle):

Surbiton to Hampton Court to Kingston, 7 miles.

Now, I know it claims 6.6 miles, but I'm claiming 7 because the first section (recorded by GPS) was 3.3 miles whereas the second section I clicked in. It (the second bit) is inaccurate because I was lazy, and moreover there's a sign at the bridge at Hampton Court which says Kingston Bridge is 3.5 miles away. Add getting to the bridge from the pub at that end, plus crossing the bridge and walking to the bus stop at the other end, and I'm saying the 3.3 for that segment was more like 3.7. Handily enough that also means we walked a nice round 7 miles. So: 13.2 miles by the end of the 20th.

World of walkcraft

That's a shit title for a blog entry, but no-one's reading anyway so I don't care.

I've made a new year's resolution to walk at least a mile a day -- on average. And what's more, it doesn't count if I walk by myself: I made Ruth agree that it's a co-resolution. Hah! We don't have to walk every day, but I want us to have walked at least 366 miles by 2009. To this end I'm recording each walk we do on everytrail.com (because, when I remember, I can use one of my GPSes and let it do the hard work for me) and adding them up.

I thought I'd use my blog to note down my progress mostly because I think they're both things I will soon get very bored of and stop bothering with. But anyway, progress to date:

1. London's South Bank, 3.3 miles
   
2. Ruth's to me dad's, 2.9 miles
   

So, 7 days in and we're at 6.2 miles. Behind schedule already! Heh.

shall I start this up again?

Not sure I can truly be bothered, but I've been thinking of mouthing off again recently, and bunkum.org failed dismally to take off. I can't believe I was ever stupid enough to think I'd be more active at looking after a bunch of code than a bunch of English. Meh.

I'm off to Istanbul in 15 hours.

no more

I simply can't be arsed blogging any more. Bet no-one had figured that out. Anyway, aren't social networks the future? I've got something far more web 2.2 up and running, my load of online nonsense. Behold, http://bunkum.org/ ! If I'm lucky then people will like it and use it and chat, amongst themselves if not with me, and if I'm unlucky it'll become popular and the countless usability and scalability problems with it will show me up to be the coding charlatan I undoubtedly am. Either way I'm sure it won't last very long.

By the way, if anyone does bother to head bunkumwards, the rules are quite simple:

• register with minimal fuss


• subscribe to the topics you think you'll find interesting


• you can reply to messages but not start new threads by default


• if you email me, from the address you used to register with, then I'll give you thread-starting access

Not putting my email address here or on there, it's only meant for people that already know me anyway. Frankly it's nothing more than a thinly veiled attempt to get my own messageboard software/interface more widely known and used, because I'm a tiny bit proud of it. That and I was bored at work today.

Off you go then. Cheesehound is dead, long live http://bunkum.org/

snow

my flat
Originally uploaded by Darren Foreman.

GO AWAY

Slack slack slack

Yes, I know I've not written much recently. Sorry. But frankly I've not been doing a lot of interest other than listening to shitloads of bands that oink and squeal, and that all goes here. Actually I tried to go see some bands last Tuesday at the Peel and failed, because the gig just plain wasn't on. Hmph. I've also vaguely been keeping up with the cricket but not watching it, although I did manage to listen to the last few overs of England's glorious victory this morning taking us, massively improbably, into the final against Australia. Cor. Add that to the weekend's rugby and we could be on a national sporting hat-trick, just need to beat Spain at the footy tomorrow...

I still don't have an mp3 player. I'm quite close to buying either a Trekstor Vibez or a Cowon iAudio D2, but not that close really. Mind you I am starting to get proper fed up with XFM. The other day the breakfast DJ was so fucking awful (the Friday guy, not Laverne) and he played 2 songs twice. Do they want people to listen to entire shows or what? Sigh. That said I get the feeling I'm in a minority when it comes to wanting a bit more diversity and variation on the radio anyway; the 8 o'clock shuffle seems to almost always include a track that gets played regularly anyway, and the "top 7 most requested songs of the day" thing at 7pm each day is also shockingly predictable. Why don't people request stuff that they can't hear just by tuning in for any given hour of any day?

I saw Casino Royale the other week. I thought it was shit. Well, the second half at least. Did a script writer die halfway through and they let a 6th form work experience lad write the rest? From the moment that bird was introduced to the plot it was just dreadful dreadful dreadful. And not just the script, but her acting too. Pah. Thankfully in filmic terms I managed to even things out by buying and watching Warrior King which, like its predecessor Ong Bak, is absofuckinglutely superb.

Sutton Ecology Centre is shit.

Metal

Despite barely posting once a week here it appears I've decided there's enough time spare for me to start a new blog. Behold, Oinkers and Squealers.

Cold

snow in my garden
Originally uploaded by Darren Foreman.

It's cold. There's snow. My garden's covered in it. London's covered in it, in fact. XFM were inviting people to phone up, if they hadn't yet looked outside, and react to opening their curtains/blinds/etc live on air today, as if the whole of London loves snow. I don't love snow. I'm trying to like it because let's face it, not liking snow's a bit miserable. But right now I've got a good excuse to be miserable anyway, because I'm ill.

Proper ill, that is. IIRC I've not had a day off work in the last 2 or 3 years that wasn't either a booked holiday, or due to a hangover. This time it's neither: I've got a total bastard chesty cough, a twat of a bunged up nose, a slag of a sore throat, and bitch of a heavy head. Thankfully I also have some 7.7% alcohol cough mixture, a superb sofa, a load of glucose-containing food and drink, and a bottle of Olbas Oil. Fucking hell though, get this: yesterday I couldn't smell the Olbas at all, so bad was my nose. Seems a little clearer today but the lungs and throat are still fucked.

London: A Life In Maps

In a fit of culture I went to the British Library last weekend, to have a butcher's at their London Maps exhibition. Quite good it was. I was expecting more schematics than there were, I can only recall there being any in the last bit where a few tube and train maps cropped up; mostly the maps were just maps of central London, concentrating on the north side of the river (from St James's to the Tower, really) to begin with and gradually increasing in scope as London itself did so. Took a good while to come across a map that went out far enough that it had Surbiton labelled on it, and even then it was spelt Serbiton. C'uh.

The little bits of text describing each map were great. I loved reading about two cartographers in the 1600s, whose names escape me but who were vying for supremacy in the burgeoning "map London" industry, if that's what you can call it. The idea that people back in the day really did have arch enemies, as they were referred to, appeals greatly to me. I wonder if I can cultivate such a relationship with a coder at, say, Google.

Understandably enough a lot of the maps were pretty samey. Understandable because there's an objective truth being laid out, obviously. Because of that it seemed the rival map makers had to find their own way of making their mark and trying to convince people (financers or royalty, I assume) that theirs was best. In at least 3 instances the tactic seemed to be "make the map as ridiculous in scale as possible; make it out of 16 sheets, 8 high by 2 wide, such that a ladder is required to see the top; or make it so long it takes 5 minutes to walk from one end to the other". Yes, some of the maps were huge, and not just because they wanted to include masses of detail either. In fact some of the most detailed maps were a pretty normal size and required lots of squinting to make sense out of.

Having to walk from one end to another of a map brought London's size into context though. I recently walked from Waterloo station to Tower Bridge and back of an evening -- in the late 1600s, that was the entire breadth of the city. When I walked the 13 miles home back in November, that would have been an epic journey worthy of chronicling, through countryside and lots of disparate villages. Bit different now.

Other ways of making the maps stand out seemed to be in the insignia. In a spare bit of space on most maps was the title, the author's name, the long subtitle that was all the rage, and all that gubbins. They were surrounded with the most immaculately presented and fabulously detailed little coat-of-arms type things and were, in general, far more ornate and impressive than the maps themselves. Odd.

It was quite interesting to learn that the train system, certainly in south west London (the Kingston Loop et al) is the same now as it was in the late 1800s; it was very funny to see a PUBLIC TRANSPORT IS TERRIBLE AND WILL KILL YOUR HORSES pamphlet; but the best thing of the whole exhibition was seeing a panorama that didn't use the word panorama -- oh no -- it was a cosmorama. That's my new favourite word, that is.

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I really hate the HSBC cash machines at Cambridge Circus. Every time I use them I forget just how tormenting they are. Here's a tip: always ask for an amount of pounds divisible by 20. Don't be fooled by them offering you £30 or £50 -- they never have tenners and always ask you to pick £40 or £60. Poxy fucking things.

Dodgy barnet

"Controversial Hair back in action" is my favourite cricketing headline of recent times.

Is that what we call a crowd?

is that what we call a crowd?
Originally uploaded by Darren Foreman.

7 points from 9 isn't a bad return for the last game of 2006/first two games of 2007. Yes, I'm back watching football again. A few badgering emails from the Dons Trust convinced me to head to the first, as they wanted to take a photo of me and a bunch of other recent Dons Draw winners. Duties done, piss poor weather and a dreadful first 10 minutes made me think staying away might have been a better option after all. But we ended up winning 3-1 and a mate offered me a free ticket to a game in late January -- in the Presidents' (or President's?) Lounge, no less. Then on Wednesday I went to Bromley away and saw another 3-1 victory in possibly the most unpleasant weather I've attended a game in since Barnsley away in February 1998 or so. 1-1 away at Ramsgate yesterday completed my hat trick. Fuck me what an appalling ground. Not sure I'll make 38 games on the trot (my previous record) but 4's looking a reasonable target.

Farewell 2006

Good fucking riddance.

Saucy

Ah, here's that post-big-night-out "what the fuck was I playing at? why didn't I slow down/have less/etc? I've got to stop" introspection. Excuse du jour: err, I don't really have one.

map mistakes

This road is not called Box Lane. It's called Bow Lane.

So this is Christmas

What have I done? Well, I've been round me dad's all day, walked there this morning and got back not too long ago. Just put South Park on having had a shower 'cos I was stinking like a total bastard, probably because I was trotting at a decent pace while wearing 3 layers of clothes, 2 of which were coats. One of them was a present from me dad and step-mum, who seemed unsure whether I liked it or not. I think my using the phrase "oh mint, that's proper" may have been at the root of their confusion.

If I recall correctly, Christmas Day is the only day of the year I've never been in a pub. Still is. The Beverley in Lower Morden wasn't going to change that. I've actually had a completely dry day and not before time. It's no secret I've been caning it like an absolute bastard over the last few weeks, but even by those standards the weekend was fucking ridiculous. That's what happens when I get given a free ticket to see Iron Maiden. I was already half-cut on Friday when I got told about that and spent the rest of the evening celebrating, but Saturday itself was fucking incredible.

Let me just get this out of the way first though: Trivium are still rubbish live. Their drummer can't keep time.

Anyway. 3 of us got on the train at about 1745 on Saturday. With beer. Probably too much beer for such a short journey. Finished it off anyway, and waited outside Earls Court trying to get hold of Darryl, since he had the tickets. When he said "Aaah, it was just a joke lads", obviously joking, I managed to threaten him with a glassing. I believe the actual phrase I used was

Why do you think we're drinking out of bottles and not cans mate? I figured the glass would come in useful in case I needed to start an altercation

I'm not sure saying this, loudly, and less than 5 yards from the nearest policeman was that sensible an idea. Dear police, and, in fact, society as a whole: I wouldn't actually have glassed him. Just can't get out of this urban savage chic phase at the mo, innit.

Fucking hell did we put it away. So so much to drink. All four of us were total fucking disgraceful dipso lush fucks, frankly, and the next day was almost a total write-off for everyone -- although me and Wooj managed a few in the evening to celebrate his birthday. Whether we'd manage that was touch and go for a while, mind. But the best bit about yesterday was that each time I had a hangover twinge, instead of the normal "what the fuck was I playing at? why didn't I slow down/have less/etc? I've got to stop" introspection, I instead started laughing at the memory of the night. A real fucking belter.

Make you breathe more easily

That new Jarvis single is rubbish. XFM London should stop playing it. The intro really reminds me of another song though and in 2 weeks of hearing it on typically heavy rotation I've still not managed to place it.

I can't work out whether I like all of The View's Same Jeans or not. His voice sometimes grates, at other times I like it. The rolled Rs are the sticking point I think. But I do like the fast bit at the very end, which much like Jarvis's song reminds me of something else.

In fact lots of stuff reminds me of something else. Am I the only person in the world who can hear a very definite Dead Kennedys resemblance in songs by Arctic Monkeys? A band who, by the way, might be worth questioning over the Suffolk streetcleaning, given these lyrics.

I'm going to have to buy the Razorlight album I think. I fuckin' hate that America song, but Before I Fall To Pieces is great, and I really like the other one on the TV advert whose name escapes me right now.

The Ordinary Boys' Boys Will Be Boys starts off with some great lyrics, but my favourite "night out" lyrics are still these ones from The Zutons.

Lord give me grace and dancing feet, and the power to impress. Is it so wrong to crave recognition?

Earlier this year I was chatting to some friends and saying just how much I wanted Sacred Reich to reform. Seemingly every other thrash band from the 80s/90s cusp is either still going or has recently got back together for a filthy lucre tour, but no sign of these boys. Most disappointing. Well blow me down with a feather, not only have they got back together but they're touring the UK and playing at Wacken, for which I already have tickets and transport.

Malevolent Creation are back 'n all. I saw them supporting Pestilence once, in Walthamstow, having had an entire bottle of Thunderbird Red on the tube from Morden. I don't remember if they were any good, although thinking about it I saw them later on in the same tour at the Marquee and they were fantastic.

A few weeks ago I was scouring for Bogdan Raczynski and couldn't find hardly anything that didn't cost a fortune. IIRC I ended up with a Rephlex records compilation and that was it. Discovered earlier this week while working late with a colleague from upstairs that he's got bloody loads of his tunes, and gave me access to a bunch of it. Superb. I still want to buy it, if I can find it at a reasonable price, but for now I can at least listen to him.

Been rereading my holiday blog entries recently. I noticed that when I was in Auckland I posted this:

Hmm. Panic! At The Disco sound like Fallout Boy, and to my utmost annoyance I've found myself liking the latter (and, therefore, the former) recently. "lalalalala cock it and pull it", etc. Goddamn emo rubbish being all catchy and shit. Thank fuck I've placed a moratorium on buying any CDs 'cos they're too heavy to cart around the fucking world, hopefully by the time I get back to England this phase will have passed.

Jesus. How wrong was I?

'tis the season

'tis the season
Originally uploaded by Darren Foreman.

I was going to have a dry weekend. Instead I went to the pub on both Saturday and Sunday. However, I feel less bad about my lack of self-control because I've just read this. So there.

Walked 10 miles today. Clicking on "small" next to where it says "Elevation" is quite interesting. Richmond Park seems nice -- I've never really explored it before, and didn't do much today, so that gives me something to do sometime. Who has sovereignty over postcodes? There are road signs on Kingston Vale and the roads coming off it that say Royal Borough of Kingston at the top left, and SW15 at the bottom. I kind of thought the borough border would also be the postcode border.

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Got my name read out on XFM finally yesterday, on about the 5th attempt I guess. Can't even remember who the DJ was but it was a guy in the morning asking for hangover cures. Darren in Surbiton recommends a Lucozade Hydroactive and a packet of crisps, which rarely fails but if it does, a Guinness fixes everything. Natasha on 6music read me out again 'n all, even though I emailed in during a section of the show where she hadn't been inviting contact (I said the new Fall Out Boy single, played in Emo Corner, sounded like Christina Aguilera; she, her producer, and another listener thought it was more like N*Sync).

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I hate football commentators. They're nearly all shit except for Andy Gray and Martin Tyler. Alan Smith just said "this is probably the pick of the bunch without doubt". Is that probably, or without doubt, Alan? You fucking idiot. David Pleat once said "I like this lad, he's got plenty of that side-to-side width". Not that top-to-bottom width then Dave? Can't remember who it was that said "alarm bells are flashing" the other week. Chris Kamara made 90 minutes worth of howlers during a play-off final the other year which everyone I was with kept picking up on and getting infuriated by. During Cardiff -vs- QPR a while ago they might as well hae been watching a different game such was their interpretation of how the game was panning out. Etc. In fact now the guy who isn't Alan Smith just said "Is it my memory playing tricks or how many great goals have we had this season?". What the fuck does that mean?

Cricket. Fuck it. Cock it and pull it.

I wish I didn't care about cricket. We're so awful. It's not like I expected anything different, after the 2nd test, but I still can't stop watching the 3rd. It's painful. I thought it'd be over in 3 days but the Aussies have decided to fucking humiliate us. Gilchrist has just taken 24 off a Panesar over including 3 sixes. Sigh.

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Burnout Revenge on xbox 360 is fun. When I'm in the right mood, of course, and last night to the delight of all concerned (ie my opponents, who in the past have had to suffer me storming off in a Big Gay Huff) I somehow was. Played 'til just gone 0200. Discovering that the soundtrack is a bunch of emo helped, Fall Out Boy FTW!

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Threads is amazingly bleak, grim, depressing, distressing even. Astonishing film. Glad I live and work in London, I presume this place would be a nuke target and I'd likely get vapourized rather than survive.

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I might go to this exhibition at the British Library later or tomorrow.

off the rails - short reprise

At least I'm not as bad as this bloke.