Look, I'm sorry. I am. I really am. But what with jobbing, blogging once or twice a week over here and moving house and indeed city, I'm struggling to find the time to visit this dusty corner of the web.
It's a shitter, really. There's so much I want to comment about in all areas of the news, but it inevitably ends up instead on my Twitter account, sandwiched between football ramblings and rants at Neighbours.
Today: the Budget. I'd love to talk about it in more detail, but I've become so innured to 140 characters that -
Sorry. Old joke. The Budget was fascinating, but more for students of politics than of economics. The main talking point, really, is Alistair Darling's decision to axe Stamp Duty on first-time home buyers spending less than £250,000 on their property. Seeing as it's currently 1% of the property value, it'll probably save them around £2,000. Good stuff. Not quite as good, obviously, for the owners of million-pound homes, who are seeing their Stamp Duty rise 5%.
That'll be 5%, please It's a move that sees Labour move to their traditionalist roots... oh, come on, we know that's bollocks. It's an appeal to their core voters, that's all, but what did you expect in a pre-election Budget? It's interesting, though, that penalising well-off southerners in the commuter belt whose homes have ballooned in value through no fault of their own may cost Labour as many votes as they win through helping first-time homeowners - who, by the way, won't be as poor as all that, since the move affects properties worth between £125,000 and £250,000. Basically, mummy and daddy's mansion tax pays for their first step towards their own mansion. What's that song? We are all bourgeois now?
Still, this Stamp Duty move will probably end up a votewinner rather than a voteloser, which is more than you can say for David Cameron's efforts with Gay Times. If you wanted proof the only principle this man has is that he should win the election, there you go. "What's my stance on gay people again? Wait, I know this one. Turn the camera off, let me get my crib sheet... "
Cameron: direct (well, not really) So in conclusion, I'm rubbish, Cameron's rubbish, the Budget happened and if you are reading this, thanks for sticking with me. Now I'm settled, almost unpacked and actually have the internet at home, I can start blogging on here a bit more often than once every Twilight film.
I'm back, I promise, and I'll start... oh, next week sometime.
I was gutted to hear yesterday that erstwhile Britpop survivors (until now) Supergrass have decided to call it a day after 17 years. Busy as I was, it almost consumed my day - I listened to I Should Coco on the walk home from work and remembered how good a debut it was, and would have written this blog last night except I was PLUG a bit PLUG busy writing PLUG this one first.
There's not really much for me to say, either, except that their departure from the scene is a great shame. It's true their star faded a while back - most people I've spoken to thought they'd split years ago - but they kept making good music that was, above all, great fun. Even their deliberately downbeat Road To Rouen had a wonderful sense of mischief about it. Indeed, though they released a considerably happier album a few years later, Road To Rouen was really their finale. It even ended with a song called Fin.
But it was good to know they were still around. And now they're not. All we can do is listen to their lasting classic, In It For The Money - surely the best name for a follow-up album ever, not to mention its opening song and chorus - and remember the good times.
I was going to put a Spotify playlist on here for anyone unacquainted with Gaz, Mick and Danny's (what names) particular brand of joyful guitar pop, but my friend's theory that a greatest hits collection is the best introduction works better for Supergrass than it does most bands. Supergrass Is 10 is an ace party album, if nothing else (and even if it does only have tracks from the first four of their six albums).
Supergrass Is 10: The Best of 94-04
Give it a go. And if you've heard it all before, psht - stick it on shuffle and remember the good times. If you don't like it, well, fine. But fewer bands created such a sense of fun as Supergrass, and for me, that's something music needs on occasion.
Anyway, times change and with a fond, lingering memory, we - fine, I - should move on. Ironically, perhaps, Supergrass put it best themselves way back in 1995, when they closed their debut album with these words:
Thanks to everyone for everything you've done But now it's time to go You know it's hard We've had some fun But now the moment's come It's time to go
Sorry, I know it’s been a while. In fact, it’s been so long that it seems barely worth apologising. Suffice it to say I’m back with something particularly blogworthy. To wit:
Mario Balotelli is going to spend a week in an Italian monastery.
More specifically, that’s the Santacittarama Buddhist Monastery in Frasso Sabino, which, as far as I can work out from Google Maps, is in the middle of nowhere (a good place for a monastery, admittedly). It’s not far from Rome, and seems to be happy enough to take people in for some brief religious guidance.
To be honest, the idea of Mario Balotelli, the man who fires toy guns at passers-by, breaks into women's prisons and throws darts at youth team players, meditating with Buddhist monks is incredible. When I first heard, I assumed it would be this kind of monastery – that looks much more up Mario’s street.
But no, apparently, he’s actually going to spend a week of his summer holidays trying to calm down a touch. No doubt someone at Manchester City has had a word in his ear.
An artist's impression
Don’t worry, I’m not turning this blog into a gossip column – I just love that this is Mario Balotelli’s next step towards salvation, after beating on school bullies and giving a homeless man £1,000. Can you have a midlife crisis at 20?
Strangely enough, I didn’t think a 140-character tweet would do this story justice. Hell, there’s a film in this.
Once again: Mario Balotelli. In a monastery. Meditating.
Things have been pretty crazy around Casa Flores for the last month with my family visiting from California and what, at times, seemed like endless stream of parties to cook and prepare for. So after nearly six weeks focused on celebrating with friends and family, it's time to look toward the future on how to make the new year even better than the last.
2010 was a huge year of change for me and my family. In August, we moved from the beaches of sunny San Diego to the mountains of West Virginia in order for my wife to pursue a lifelong goal of hers, which was to work at The Greenbrier. The stars aligned for her, as she is now playing a key role in the rebirth of the resort... truly exciting times. We swapped roles as she took over the responsibility of primary breadwinner as I quit my job at a telecommunications company and effectively ended my career in technology sales to take over as the primary caregiver for our two young daughters. This has a been a incredible blessing. My relationship with my kids has improved dramatically. Not that it was bad before, but we are much closer now than when I was working full-time.
The other blessing that has come out of the last few months is that the downtime has allowed me to do some thinking about how I want to focus my energies going forward.
Primary 2011 goal - To leverage my experience and passion for endurance sports and fitness by providing coaching and training services, primarily focused on beginner/novice athletes who are looking to use endurance sports as a way to open the door to a fit and healthy lifestyle. The state of West Virginia suffers from some the highest obesity rates in the country, despite the ample outdoor activities that are available here. My aim is to help stem the tide of this epidemic one individual at a time by becoming an evangelist and an educator. The first step is to educate myself more fully and I am currently in the process of obtaining my NASM Certified Personal Training Certification and later this year will pursue my USAT Triathlon Level 1 Certification. Much, much more on this to come as this plan comes to fruition. Stay tuned.
Of course, I have some personal fitness goals as well, some big picture and some more fun little challenges.
Become a runner again. After six months off, it's healed and time to get back to it. And get back to 80 min half-marathon shape by the end of the summer.
Row a 6:40 2K on my Concept2 indoor rower. My original time frame was by December 1. A back injury last month derailed my efforts somewhat, but I am back (pun intended) and will be posting my progress here regularly as I try to achieve this goal by February 1.
Row 2,000,000 lifetime meters by April 31. (at 1,048,829m as of Jan 4)
Sub 4:30 Half Ironman Triathlon. Goal race - PPD Beach to Battleship Triathlon
Complete both TRX 40/40 challenges (upper body = low row/atomic pushups, lower body = hip press, suspended lunges)
And more hobby-related goals:Cultivate my interest in photographyLearn to cook Indian foodLearn to play the guitar. Blog more! Wheew... that's a lot to do. I'd better get to work!
Sometimes there is nothing better than a hot plate of starchy carbohydrates to start your morning. Particularly in the form of a tall stack of pancakes. I'm a bit of a tinkerer in the kitchen and I came up with the following recipe for multi-grain pancakes after some trial and error. I think they are pretty good and my wife and kids like them, so my bet is that you will too.
While I realize that it's not always the healthiest thing to eat (in fact, it's usually not), I'll assume that if you're reading this blog (all two of you) that you've either preceded or will follow your big breakfast with a hard workout to burn off all this excess glycogen. For the sake of balance and a more complete breakfast, I'd also recommend some protein. You can never go wrong with some thick sliced good quality bacon. If you're trying to avoid animal fat, or don't eat meat, the Morningstar brand veggie sausage patties are also excellent. And of course, some fresh fruit... strawberries, blueberries, peaches or what you can get your hands on or is in season.
Here's the recipe.
Get two large bowls out and pre-heat a griddle or skillet to 350 degrees.
In the first bowl, whisk together the following dry ingredients:
1/3 cup corn meal
1/4 cup quick cooking or old-fashioned rolled oats
1 cup whole wheat flour
3/4 cup white, all purpose flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
pinch of ground nutmeg
In the second bowl, whisk the following wet ingredients:
1 3/4 cup milk (I use 1%... whatever type you normally keep on hand will work. As for almond, rice or soy, I haven't tried those in this recipe, so you're on your own)
4 tablespoons butter (1/2 stick), melted
1/4 cup honey
3 large eggs
1/4 cup honey
1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract
Pour wet ingredients into the dry and gently whisk together until combined. Don't overmix or your pancakes will come out dense and chewy.
Using a ladle, pour about 1/4 cup of batter onto hot griddle. If you like nuts, sprinkle chopped pecans, almonds or walnuts on each pancake while it cooks, before flipping.
They will be ready to flip when large bubbles appear on the top and start to pop. Serve right away or keep warm in a 200 degree oven.
Well hung, innit? I'm hanging like a parliament. Hang this. Etc. The jokes everywhere are from the news of a hung parliament, as the British public - well, 65% of it - went to the polls and voted for no one in particular.
Some of us were foolish enough to stay up all night to watch the results come in, and for a more in-depth, more drunken look I recommend trawling through my old tweets at www.twitter.com/weekspotblog. But for those of you with lives to lead (I did update so many times I broke Twitter and was told to stop posting), here's a summary of how no one bar the Greens can be happy with this result.
And fair play to the Greens. It's a fantastic outcome for the single-issue nutters.
Anyway, here goes: the Top Ten 'Oh Fucks' of the night:
1. Oh fuck. The Liberal Democrats had a shocker last night, and this is where it all started to go wrong. Clegg's collective had been making promises of a genuine challenge to Government and 110 seats. Instead, they lost five MPs, and currently stand on a paltry 54 (16 constituencies are still to be announced).
Again, it all started here. The LibDems' no1 target seat saw a 6.9% swing AWAY from the yellows and into the hands of a gleeful Tory party. No doubt for Doughty; no paradise lost for Milton.
Clegg considers his career options
2. Oh fuck. The Conservative Party actually had a pretty bad night of it as well, despite what this terrifyingly blue map of the UK might aver. Seriously, if they just counted votes in England, not Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland as well, the Tories would walk it.
But they won't be at all happy with failing to reach a majority, and it was in constituencies such as this that they fell. It really looked like the Blues would take Tooting, but despite a healthy 3.6% swing against them Labour and Sadiq Khan MP held on. 'Yes we Khan' were the chants. Yes we Khan. +10% turnout too. Good work, Tooting.
Not Tooting his own horn here
3. Oh fuck. Labour had to endure a torrid night (this was a particularly painful one to lose - just 54 votes in it), and what will really hurt is losing some big names. Two former home secretaries, Charles Clarke and Jacqui Smith, were among the casualties and although Clarke is anti-Brown and anti-Balls, he's an old head they didn't want to see go.
How fucked? This fucked
4. Oh fuck. Labour weren't the only party to say goodbye to some prominent figures and again, this was the beginning of the end for the LibDems. Lembit Opik, he of Cheeky Girl fame, lost his seat in Montgomeryshire as the Tories made another gain - this time, with a massive 13.2% swing. Cheeky.
5. Oh fuck. Evan Harris also went - a massive blow for the LibDems. There were only 176 votes in it.
6. Oh fuck. The British National Party didn't win any seats, which is great news, but I wish I could be more optimistic about half a million voters putting an X by their name. I can't. It's disgusting.
Interestingly, the BNP actually lost 1.7% of the vote in the constituency where Nick Griffin plumped his fat bonk-eyed arse.
Understatement?
7. Oh fuck. Essex has a lot to answer for. Chavs, white stilettos and Jamie Oliver aside, the county has a nasty habit of being pretty right-wing in its voting habits. The constituency that best summed up its extent of fail last night was Basildon South & Thurrock East, where they successfully got rid of a Labour minister, voted in a Tory and gave more than 2,500 votes to the BNP. Well done.
8. Oh fuck. Every time I switched over ITV's coverage was absolutely God-awful, from Alistair Stewart constantly interrupting everybody like he's king of the fucking world to filming outside a pub where David Cameron was drinking. It's a pub - just go inside!
9. Oh fuck. Jeremy Vine's house of wank was the reason I kept switching over in the first place.
10. Oh fuck. Last but not least, I was very sad to see this man lose his seat. Richard Taylor is a doctor who ran as a single-issue independent in 2001 to keep Kidderminster Hospital open, and absolutely slammed Labour's junior minister David Lock into the ground. He then held on in 2005 to become the first independent MP to retain his seat since the 1970s. He's such a hero that the LibDems didn't put up any opposition against him on either occasion.
Unfortunately, the Tories did and this time round they won. Bastards.
So, what a bust that was. Here's to a hung parliament seeing some good change put through. What? It could happen.
Oh yay. OK, then, one piece of good news: bag of balls David Heathcoat-Amory, 17 years in power, lost his seat in Wells, Somerset. He literally owns this constituency. It was pretty damn satisfying seeing him lose control of it.
Last night I found myself watching a much heralded little British film called Happy-Go-Lucky on FilmFour, directed by Mike Leigh of Secrets & Lies and Vera Drake fame. It wasn't very good, to be honest: a pointless non-journey with a terrible script and an incredibly annoying soundtrack (think when Lottery-funded films have 'quirky' scenes). Without stellar performances from Sally Hawkins and the ever-brilliant Eddie Marsan, it would have been a complete waste of everybody's time.
But even though it wasn't going anywhere, I wanted to know what happened at the end. I'd been sitting through this film for two and a bit hours waiting for something to happen (caveat: a film can be good, even brilliant, without anything happening; it's just that this was not an example) and finally it was petering out to an inevitably saccharine conclusion. Still, I wanted to hear what the final words were. It's the end of a film, isn't it? Of course you do.
Then, over the final scene: "And next on FilmFour, blah di blah di blah di fucking blah."
What? You're joking, right? Now? Right now? Over the final words of the film?
But no - it happened, and in the film's closing scene. Not over the credits, which immediately followed. Over the film itself. The last bit we heard, after the voiceover, was two characters laughing. What were they laughing about? I don't know.
This is absolutely inexcusable. In fact, it's unthinkable. Further than that, it's mental. Completely, utterly mental. I can't think of any way of justifying this argument because, surely, surely, it's just so bloody obvious. YOU DON'T TALK OVER THE END OF A FILM. Even I know that, and I used to talk over films all the time.
And yet this isn't even the worst example of plugging the next show during the current one. On Christmas Day, I was watching one of the many millions of A Christmas Carol adaptations that always turn up. In fact, through circumstance more than judgement, I think I watched four or five that year. Patrick Stewart, Jim Carrey, Michael Caine and the muppets, the cracking Alistair Sim... thank Dickens I was saved from the Kelsey Grammar musical shocker.
ANYWAY, the film was drawing to its close and we all know what's going to happen. Still, we've had 90 minutes of misery and here comes the big ending, right? The closing speech in which we find that Scrooge went on to be a good man and Tiny Tim, who did not die, etc. etc. etc.
Nope.
"And next on BBC1, blah di blah di FUCKING BLAH BLAH."
Unbelievable. I mean that. I couldn't believe it. It's not just one of the most famous endings of all time in any medium, it's the whole point of the fucking story. It's the fucking moral. What the HELL is a child meant to take from that film without the final monologue? Did Tiny Tim die? They'll never know, but at least they'll know that Sue Barker's wearing Christmas holly for a predictably shit seasonal edition of Question of fucking Sport.
This has to be stopped. Now. If you're running late (these weren't) and have to - HAVE TO - talk over the credits, do it. But you don't talk over the end of a film. You just don't. I mean... that's it. No argument here. You just don't.
This says a lot about society, I think. We find ourselves accepting this And next week on Huw Davies' Week Spot, your not-so-intrepid occasional blogger rants about the BNP and asks, how can we let ourselves be in such a position that this party can exist? Make sure you stay tuned to www.weekspotblog.com for intellectual discussion end up dying in a fucking sewer with pokers in our eyeballs.
In this blog he explains that gemmology is getting ever more scientific with all the new equipment available, that allows a more in depth analysis of a gem material.
These are big expensive pieces of equipment that are housed in the larger gem labs and universities and are proving very helpful in the identification of new synthetics and treatments.
It used to be a matter of course that when you entered the jewellery trade you enrolled in two courses to gain qualifications. The first was The Retail Jewellers Diploma (R.J.Dip. now The Professional Jewellers Diploma, P.J.Dip.) to gain knowledge about all the various aspects of the retail jewellers role. The second was enrolling on the Diploma course in gemmology from the Gemmological Association of Great Britain and Ireland, to gain an excellent understanding of gemmology and ultimately the F.G.A. I have spoken to many colleagues in recent years that are either too focused on sales or don't see the point in studying gemmology "because it's all done in labs now" rather than using some skills in store.
Erics next point is to say that the new gemmologist's job is to explain gems, synthetics, treatments and of course the beauty of these pieces to the trade and public. I spend hours every day explaining what a Tourmaline is, how angles and percentages affect the light performance of a Diamond, what is the difference between Akoya cultured pearls and Natural Pearls, what does heat treated mean, and so on. But I am able to do this with confidence because of the training I have had. So Eric is right, but this is only part of the new gemmologist's role.
We need to have more gemmologist's in or close to retail in order to protect the trade and public alike. Unfortunately there are many rogue traders in the world that don't tell the truth either intentionally or through ignorance. All jewellery professionals need a basic training using the most useful equipment a good pair of eyes and a loupe or eyeglass. This was something reinforced by Edward Johnson of GIA London where I attended a course in January. My view is it's easier to stumble into trouble with your eyes closed!
You also need to train your eyes. After coming back from a weeks Diamond Grading, I noticed colour or lack of it in everything. When a tap was running, I could easily detect the slight differences in the water coming out, just the same as Diamonds in the normal colour range. Something that made me think of doing this blog this mornig was this. My wife tells me off for putting spread on the toast on the kitchen worktop intead of on a plate. If she had an eye as trained as mine I would never get away with it. When you spread toast on a worktop it stays relativly flat, if you spread it on a plate it takes on the curvature of the plate. Yes, I know it's very sad that I notice these things, but it helps me to be a good gemmologist! Get looking!
'O Brother, Where Art Thou?' The Soundtrack - Various Artists [2000]
The record that launched a thousand careers.
This compilation, soundtrack to what I personally think is the most perfect film ever made (but let's put that aside for now because that's another list no one will agree with), collected the finest crafters of folk and bluegrass the world has to offer, and in return for their rewarding viewers and listeners with unbelievably good music, rewarded these masters of their art with recognition not before known or appreciated.
Sorry, that was a sentence more unnecessarily long than Nelson Mandela's. Heigh-o!
Legends such as Alison Krauss (God, I love her voice), Gillian Welch and even Emmylou Harris do feature, it's true, but it was wonderful to see some appreciation for producer T-Bone Burnett, Dan Tyminski and, yes, Ralph Stanley. On his 75th birthday, he sang O Death - a capella - at the 44th Grammy Awards. I'm sorry, but I just find that unbelievable. In retrospect, it's a miracle Kanye West didn't turn up promising to let them finish but first adding by gum, Bob Dylan was robbed.
Yes, Dylan lost out to the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack for Album of the Year. I imagine he was very happy about it, actually. Fellow losing nominees OutKast and U2 (hah!) were probably less thrilled.
The award, and Stanley's, were just two of five Grammies won by the record - and deservedly, fully deservedly.
Anyone who knows the Coen brothers' films know they care deeply about their soundtracks, and each song fits its moment in the film perfectly, but it works so well in its own right too. To hear modern legends recreate classic bluegrass songs and make them their own is no less than incredible in effect.
Highlights? Ooh, not easy. The Soggy Bottom Boys' acoustic and full band recordings of Man Of Constant Sorrow both go down as classic versions of the song, and rightfully so, thanks to Tyminski's artful arrangement and damn fine singing.
The aforementioned O Death is another fantastic song, crooned with such fragility by Ralph Stanley it's like hearing his soul be ripped apart with his ageing body. But, y'know, more cheerful. Stanley also turns up on album and film closer Angel Band, which is just bloody lovely.
What else? Down To The River To Pray and Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby are much-admir'd thanks to Alison Krauss' involvement, and they are both beautiful renditions, but credit must also go to Chris Thomas King for his heartbreaking version of Hard Time Killing Floor Blues.
John Hartford is responsible for two gorgeous string-laden instrumentals, there's a brilliant rare 1920s recording in Harry McClintock's Big Rock Candy Mountain (corking song) and actor Tim Blake Nelson has a more than decent stab at In The Jailhouse Now. Give that man a recording contract.
To be honest, there's only one recording on this 19-track album I would call any less than wonderful, and that's because it's excruciating - three pre-teen girls murdering In The Highways. Still, they're young. I'll forgive them.
What an album. What bluegrass. What gospel. What brilliance.
So I suppose the final question is: does this count? I wasn't going to include the album on my list because I wasn't sure if a soundtrack created by various artists should be included on an albums of the decade list. But then I took away the rules and thought about it simply: it's one of the best records of the decade. Simple as that.
How nice. My 100th post on this silly little blog, set up well over a year ago, and I get to celebrate my favourite film as well as one of my favourite albums.
Tomorrow, I'll probably pick the Being John Malkovich soundtrack (does it have one?) just so I can drone on endlessly about the film.
Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond my control (no, really), today I can only offer you my own review without a Spotify link or a blog WITH a Spotify link but with the words written by someone else.
I figured you'd prefer the latter
Guero - Beck [2005]
The first thing I should point out is that I'm hideously underqualified to write an album review. The second thing is that if this were my top thirty albums of the decade, it would read very differently.
And thirdly, I love this album, and I will tell you why.
My relationship with Guero starts with the esteemed Mr Davies. We had known each other for about a week when he made me a copy of this album and told me that I'd like it. I in turn gave him a copy of Rooster's self-titled debut. Needless to say, he never listened to it.
However, the first time I actually listened to it was probably around six months later on the Welsh M4. This was unfortunate for me because my first instinct was to dance. This album is full of beat, drawing heavily from its South American inspiration. It's also got clear lyrics that can be happily mumbled along with, and those are my two main requirements in an album, so it was obviously going to be a favourite.
If you came looking for comments about structure, symmetry and the poignant irony of a white man referencing Latino slang, you've come to the wrong place. Instead, I suggest you click on E-Pro and watch the puppets:
I've been told that I'm not allowed to link to Qué Onda Guero, which is unfortunate because it's really rather good. About an outsider in a marketplace, the shout of 'What's up, white boy?' makes sense with the rest of the lyrics, making it quite unusual for a Beck song (see Devil's Haircut for comparison).
Well, apart from this:
James Joyce Michael Bolton
But you're allowed to listen to Black Tambourine. I have no idea what it's about, but it's probably sexy. However, it is one of the worst songs on this album to pole dance to, and that's obviously what's important.
Anyway, this is your unlucky 13, which is why I'm breaking Mr Davies' rules and inserting a track by the artist that definitely doesn't feature on the wonderful Guero. It also stars a fictional robot.
I try to avoid self-publicising on this blog (well, apart from the About Me section, obviously), but I would like to point people towards this - my weekly Premier League predictions blog on fourfourtwo.com.
This week I let the predictions become a thinly-veiled attack on a certain French footballer (which, if this is anything to go by, is a nice way of putting it (nasty words within)).
At last, then, it seems safe to confirm the death of Michael Jackson at the age of 50. Now the mania is over, we can take a look at the development of the story and how different parts of the media reacted to what were at the time mere allegations.
Sorry, that sounds incredibly boring. I'll keep it simple, then, and I'll keep it brief. Still, if you're expecting Jacko-related jokes ("His heart couldn't beat it any more" etc.), then you're better off trying somewhere else: I was bored of them after minutes, and we've still months of them to come. Joy.
News of MJ's passing first came from TMZ, a celebrity gossip site following a tip-off that paramedics had visited the singer's home. All that was known at that point was that he had gone into cardiac arrest (not the same as a heart attack, by the way), so the entertainment website responsibly responded by telling the whole world HE'S DEAD, HE'S DEAD OH MY GOD HE'S DEAD.
Sky News followed. Of course it bloody did: Sky News' long-standing motto, which it makes no attempt to deny, is 'never wrong for long'.
Which is why I didn't trust it.
Myself, I was waiting for confirmation from BBC News - a predictable but much more reliable outlet - who steadfastly led with nothing more hyperbolic than 'Michael Jackson taken to hospital'. For this, they deserve praise, which should also be lavished upon them for keeping constant coverage, including my hero and one-time pee buddy (don't ask) Lizo Mzimba. BBC Online's headline then graduated onto calling him 'gravely ill' and then the admittedly ill-advised 'Michael Jackson 'dead'' - ill-advised because 'these' just make it sound 'sarcastic' - before finally confirming the story some hours after it first broke.
So given that the story of Jackson's death was true, was the BBC just slow, perhaps even irresponsibly slow, to report it? No. It was waiting for reliable confirmation from official sources, not an entertainment website. As it should do. Take a note, Sky News.
Anyway, once TMZ had broken the 'story' (understand, BBC? 'These' mean 'sarcasm'), it was within minutes all over the internet, as people such as myself sought to learn the truth of the news from more people like myself. That is, people didn't know whether Jackson was alive or dead, so had to ask other people who didn't know either. This led to a hive of activity, soon becoming a hive of inactivity as the internet buckled under the weight of worldwide confusion. Briefly, Google died, Twitter died and even TMZ, who started the whole thing, died. Nice work bringing that on yourself, guys.
Will the interwebs be able to withstand another assault on their blogotubes? I don't think we'll ever know.
I can't think of many stories that would have such an effect worldwide - people talk about the death of the Queen and the like causing a global stir, but due to the decline in the British Empire and the release of best-selling album ever Thriller, she hasn't touched as many people in as many countries as Michael Jackson. Think of that what you will.
But it does show that social networking sites are now the best news aggregators you can hope for. Find a story, pass it on. Admittedly you have to wade through the shit (OMG HES DED!!!!!!!!!!!!!11), but Twitter, with its #hashtags and trending topics, is actually quite a good news source.
Anyway, now it's all over and his death has been confirmed, what have we learned? Well... nothing, really. The story was right. So TMZ and Sky News were right. Damn. I was hoping this would be a chance for people to realise they can't be trusted.
And Jackson's death itself? Well, with debt, illness and 50 concert dates he was never realistically going to make, the conspiracy theories are flying around almost as quickly as the jokes. But it's my firm belief that he's dead, and we should accept that. Sorry, kids.
Yes, I've been very rubbish over the last couple of months, and due to various issues of job applications, illness and Media Law exams, I've abandoned this little corner of the interblag universe. Believe me, I'm as upset with myself as you are, and if you're even half as relieved as I am to be back, then I'm twice as relieved as you.
Anyway, Huw Davies' Week Spot is back after a horrible hiatus, and I promise you a real blog on the news of the day as soon as possible - most likely in the next couple of days. Tell your friends.
I was in Tuscon last week for the Gorilla Multisport Winter Training Camp. My original intention was to blog every day while at camp to give the daily update on the experience. But, frankly, I was too tired to manage it. So, now I am typing this from home in San Diego after a few days of recovery and decompression.
I had been looking forward to this for a while... five days of nothing but training, learning and hanging out with some other like-minded triathletes.
We arrived on Tuesday, I'll call it Day 0. After the long drive I was pretty wired, so I went for a quick run before some grub and bed. Our hotel was about 2 miles from the Kino Sports Complex, which is where the Arizona Diamondbacks do their spring training... made for a nice turnaround for the out and back route. Workout #1 in the books.
Day 1 - Wednesday The other campers were not due to arrive until mid-day, but since we were in town and had some free time, my friend and Gorilla Multisport Coach DeeAnn and I went to a Masters workout at the University of Arizona. They run a nice program over there and the pool is amazing. With the week of heavy training ahead, I was glad to find out that the workout was an easy one. Lots of fast 100's and 50's with lots of rest, along with some technique work. I ended up with just over 3000 yards for the workout. After some coffee, breakfast and a short rest, I headed out for a run out to the Kino Sports Complex again. One of the campers from Florida, Joseph, had arrived, so he joined me. We ended up with just over 4.5 miles of easy jogging. After lunch and "registration", the entire crew convened for the first ride of the camp, Gates Pass. The ride began with a flat stretch through urban Tucson, which was not great due to all the stoplights. But once we were out of town, the scenery was amazing... spectacular views of the desert and endless miles of cactus and beautiful landscapes. The highlight of the ride was the climb up and over Gates Pass, which has a section at the top that rivals some of the steepest roads I've ever climbed on a bike. Out of the saddle in the 39x26, just trying to keep the pedals turning over. After a photo opp at the top, we bombed down the backside and back into town. Total ride was 38 miles. After getting back to the hotel and cleaning up, we were treated to a nutrition presentation from Bob Seebohar (www.fuel4mance.com), elite coach and sports nutritionist for the 2008 US Olympic Triathlon Team. I learned a lot about metabolic efficiency and picked up some tips that I will definitely incorporate into my own training.
Day 2 - Thursday AM - 50 mile ride out to Colossal Cave Mountain Park. Coach Bob and Seton Claggett from TriSports.com joined us for the ride. Both are great guys and strong athletes. Overall, an moderate ride with lots of false flats and gentle inclines. The best part was that all the climbing was in the first 30 miles and the entire 20 mile return trip was a gentle descent. Immediately upon returning, our group headed out for a quick 20 minute transition run. Coach Bob rode and ran with us and gave us some great tips on run cadence. After a quick bite to eat, I put my legs up for an hour to rest up for the afternoon ride. PM - 38 mile ride, the bottom half of the El Tour de Tucson route. By this time, the day had turned hot and windy... so we were treated to a pretty tough ride, starting out in urban Tucson, than out to some less-traveled roads in the north part of town. As soon as we could get our bikes in the hotel rooms and showered up, we headed over to a strength workout with Coach Bob. We focused on a concept he calls neuromuscular activation... essentially a series of pre and post-workout movements that activate the key muscle groups. Again, I learned a lot... great stuff.
Day 3 - Friday AM - The Shootout is a regular Saturday hammerfeest that has been taking place in Tucson for over 30 years... its a fairly challenging route famous for attracting the most competitive cyclists and is typically full of attacks and counterattacks. We choose to do The Shootout ride on Friday on our own to get a sample of the route without the blistering pace and a big peleton. Seton Claggett from TriSports.com rode with us again. It started out with an easy 15 miles in town than a long 15 miles of false flat... nearly dead straight... before it finally kicks up with a final short steep climb. I was feeling pretty strong so I kept the pace high on the false flat, but once the hill came Seton dropped me like a rock as he disappeared up the steep incline. The local knowledge proved to be pretty handy! After regrouping, we headed back into town at a pretty good clip (22-24 mph) thanks to the mostly flat and gently descending route. PM - Late Friday afternoon, I had a swim analysis and video scheduled... but beforehand, for the first time in three days, I had a couple hours to relax. So I napped by the pool. After my nap and a shower, I headed over to TriSports for my swim video. They have a sweet two-lane Endless Pool set-up with underwater and above water cameras. The instructor told me that my stroke was pretty solid (I hope so!), but gave me a few suggestions that I think will be helpful. In particular, one thing that I discovered is that I tend to pull up short with my right arm on the pull. So I need to concentrate on finishing my stroke on that side. Good feedback and something I probably would have never figured out on my own without the video feedback.
Saturday - Day 4 AM - This was the big day. Mt. Lemmon. A 26 mile climb rising from 2500 ft to a peak over 8200 ft. I've ridden San Diego's big climb, Palomar Mountain... which is tough. But the top of Palomar is at just over 5000 ft. When climbing Mt. Lemmon, the 5000 ft mark is not even halfway up the climb. Palomar is steeper, but it is the length of Mt. Lemmon that is killer... over 2 hrs of consistent work going up the mountain. We started the ride with an easy 15 miles of riding through Tucson and regrouped at a coffee shop about 2 miles from the Mile 0 marker at the base of the climb. After some pics and a double shot of espresso, we started up. There were 5 of us (myself, Norm, Manny, Joseph, and Greg) in the group that agreed to ride the whole mountain... the rest of the campers would climb for 90 minutes as far as they could go and then turn around. The summit team (sounds cool, eh?) all exchanged numbers and arranged to text or call each other if for some reason we needed to turn around. Otherwise, we would all meet up at the top. We got going and could see the road twisting up the mountain ahead of us... it was pretty intimidating. About 50 yards past the Mile 0 sign, Norm informed me that my rear tire was flat. Crap. He stayed back to help me get it changed while the rest of the group proceeded ahead. Once I fixed the tire, we proceeded again. The first 5 miles of the climb were tough, there were some killer headwinds that made it tough just to stay upright on the bike. I thought to myself that if the entire climb was this windy, it was going to be a very, very difficult day. Fortunately, as the road twisted and turned up the mountain there was some shelter from the wind and it got easier. I made a concerted effort to keep my HR in high Zone 2 (130-140) and just stayed on my 39x26 gear keeping the cadence high. This netted me a blistering pace of about 10-11 mph. Ha. Every few minutes, I shifted up to my 25 or 23 and climbed out of the saddle to give my hamstrings and lower back a rest. At Mile 7, I caught Manny and Joseph and we all took some pictures from the Seven Cataracts viewpoint. Spectacular. After the short break, I continued up the climb and quickly separated from the other guys. The views up the mountain were simply unbelievable, incredible rock formations and of course, the view of the valley falling further and further away... the closest thing I can relate them to is the Grand Canyon. It's hard to do them justice with words or even pictures. The rest of the climb went pretty well. Every time my legs were screaming for a break, the slope softened a bit and I was able to recover just enough for the next tough stretch ahead. Finally, I got to the first peak at Mile 21 and was treated to a descent. A descent? Wait, I'm not at the top yet! The final few miles of the "climb" were a bowl that drops about 400 ft before re-ascending to 8200 ft at the village of Mt. Lemmon. At the base of the final climb, I caught Greg whom I hadn't seen since I flatted two hours before. We laughed about how tough the climb was, and rolled into town together. A great sense of accomplishment that we indulged by getting some hot chocolate (it was cold!) and huge pieces of banana cream pie. About 10 minutes later, Norm rolled in and about 30 minutes later, Manny arrived. Shortly thereafter, we got a text that Joseph had turned around. So we finished up our good, got some pics and then headed back down the mountain. It was about 30 degrees cooler at the top, so I put on my arm warmers and shoved some loose paper (the cafe to-go menus!) in my jersey front to block the wind. It took about 25 minutes of work to get back out to the first peak, which after the long break and food was tough. But once back to Mile 21, it was literally all downhill from there. The descent is somewhat technical and super-fast. By the time I got to the bottom, my hands were cramping from constantly being the brakes trying to moderate my speed. On several occasions I was touching 40 mph and that was trying to be conservative. Finally, after regrouping again at the bottom, we headed back for the final 15 miles toward home. The full day was 85 miles, about 8000 ft of climbing. A great day on the bike and one that I will remember forever. PM - Once we rolled back into the hotel at about 3pm, we slammed our (late) lunches and got ready to head over to the University of Arizona pool for a swim workout. I was tempted to bail and just relax, but the idea of splashing around the pool for a drill workout sounded good. Finally at 5pm the tough day was over and we all gathered around the hotel pool for pizza and beer. Good times.
Sunday - Day 5 Final day of camp... no cycling. After four tough days of riding, it was nice not to be getting on the bike first thing in the morning. Besides I was running out of clean cycling clothes. Actually, I ran out of clean stuff on Friday... but was able to make do with some Woolite and the hotel room sink. Anyway, I digress. After a quick breakfast, we piled into the cars and headed out to Saguero National Park for an amazing trail run. There is a 8 mile loop that is simply spectacular. Everyone was on their own to decide how far they wanted to run, we simply had a two hour time limit. Most choose to do one loop. My legs were pretty toasted from the riding, but I wanted a little more than 8 miles. My lower threshold for a "long" run is 12 miles, so I ran one loop and did a 2 mile out and back to bring it up to the requisite dozen. The quads were not happy with me as I climbed back into the van for the 20 minute drive home. After some more breakfast and a shower, we packed up the gear, said our goodbyes and got on the road back to San Diego.
Overall, it was a tremendous few days. Training wise, it was my biggest week ever... with over 270 miles on the bike, 30 miles of running and about 7k of swimming. To think that pros do that every week!! Aside from the training, the other campers were awesome... good people all of them. It was great to spend some time hanging out, we had a blast.
Here are some pics from the rides.
Entrance to Colossal Cave Mountain Park
Joseph, Manny and Me - The Shootout Loop
Heading toward Colossal Cave Mountain Park
The Mt. Lemmon Summit Crew - Manny, Norm, Me, Greg, Joseph... before the climb
At the base of Mt. Lemmon, right before I flatted.
Somewhere near Mile 10 of the Mt. Lemmon climb
Mt. Lemmon - Looking down, around Mile 14.
Banana Cream Pie and Hot Chocolate at the top of Mt. Lemmon - delicious.
Taken while descending at 35+mph. Not recommended.
If I work out late at night, it takes me hours to fall asleep. The physiological reasons for this are beyond my comprehension, but suffice to say that if I work out, say from 9-10pm (like I did tonight), than I'm up until at least midnight.
So, what better things to do when all is quiet in the house than to write a blog post? I'm not really much for watching TV, anyway... most network reality crap bores me to death. Since when did we become such a voyueristic society? Maybe we always have been, I don't know. Anyway, I digress.
Today, I dropped my new/not-new Cervelo PCCarbon frame off to get built up. The story in it is that the frame is new to me, but it is a 2007 model frame. If you watched Chrissie Wellington smoke the field in the 2007 IM world champs in Kona, the red/white bike she was on, that's the same bike I'm talking about. Well, not the SAME bike, the same model. I came by it through some luck and a good friend... I owe him some beers. The catch was that the bike had been in an accident and the end of the aero bars smacked the top tube hard and cracked the frame, leaving a small dime-sized hole. So, I had to have that fixed.
Here is a pic of the frame as it was when I received it and a detail of the top tube fracture.
So, the frame went off to Calfee Design in early Dec and for a reasonable fee, they fixed it up good as new. It arrived earlier this week.
Sorry for the tease, but I don't have any pics of the repaired frame... but I will post them when I get the bike back on Friday.
All in all, for a small outlay of cash and some well-rewarded patience, I now have a new, SWEET frame.
I'm stoked on this for a couple reasons. 1) With all due respect to the fine bike makers at Quintana Roo, the P2C is simply a much more aero, lighter, faster, more comfortable bike than my old Tequilo. Well, the faster part depends on me, but more aero, lighter and more comfortable for sure. And 2) as I've progressed as an athlete, I've started to ride steeper and steeper. And I'm at the limit of what my 55cm Tequilo frame will accomodate. When I'm really hammering, I am on the very tip of my saddle and way out on top of my bar extensions. The new bike is a 58 and with the saddle in the front seatpost position, it will allow me to ride a couple degrees steeper and give me a little more length to stretch out. It should also be more stable at speed since so much of my weight won't on the front wheel.
Once I get fit on the new bike on Friday, I will post before and after pics for comparison.
The timing is perfect for the new ride. This weekend, my coach and our group is doing our first race simulation ride on the California 70.3 course. 41 miles, with 31 miles at race effort and a 4 mile transition run. It's a perfect opportunity to get on the new bike, test it out a bit. It's also my first real chance get a sense of where my fitness is after the last couple months of hard training. I can't wait.
So, Matt Smith has defied all predictions to be named the next Doctor. If your reaction was anything other than "Who?", then you're either a shrewd telly addict, a Doctor Who insider or lying. Smith's announcement came out of nowhere.
But one aspect isn't such a surprise: the new Doctor's age.
A return to the older Doctors of... old was mooted, but it was always going to go the other way. Doctor Who has always been a children's/family programme, and so the target audience is clearly children. And I don't know whether it's a recent phenomenon, but these days children prefer younger role models: less of the cool dad of Jon Pertwee or the mad perverted uncle of Tom Baker, and more David Tennant or his young sidekicks – people they can imagine themselves being.
And as such, it's natural for the producers of Doctor Who to choose a younger face. Matt Smith is only 26, and/but looks young enough for children to model themselves on him.
He's also quite posh – my online journalism blog has an interesting discussion relating to this – and therefore all set up to be much-loved by mums.
In short, he's the Blue Peter choice: someone the kids can idolise as a character and watch as an actor in CBBC interviews. I don't want to call him the safe option, because that would be naïve given my little knowledge of his style or what he'll bring to the role – plus the safe option would presumably be someone better-known and with more screen experience – but he is certainly the sensible choice for the BBC to make. He's young, and he's going to get people talking.
All right then, a quick one before the year is out. New Year's Eve on the South Bank can wait.
First, though, a quick word of thanks to anyone still reading this blog; to those who put up with the epic early posts; to those who bookmarked it, RSSed it or remembered to return every Sunday night; and to those stuck with it through the regime change into its current non-weekly format. It's been great to know I'm not just prattling into an empty universe, as I usually am. Thank you all.
So why am I posting now, when I'm running late for a train? Because there are a couple of things I want to make clear before 2009 begins with a swirl of fireworks and anti-climax.
i) Manchester United are not out of the running for the Premiership. I keep reading interviews, match reviews and analyses saying, "United are still in the hunt" as if it's a surprise. Of course it isn't.
For one, United are never out of the running. As much as it pains me to say it (I hate United with a red devilish passion surpassed only by a recent revulsion towards Arsene Wenger), they are a good team that never gives up - hence their tradition in grabbing points from games at literally the last minute. The same goes in the longer run, and they'll fight this tooth and nail.
Secondly, they have the depth to cope with the injuries that naturally plague any team with title aspirations. One look at the depth of talent in the United midfield - Ronaldo, Giggs, Park, Carrick, Hargreaves (admittedly out for the rest of the season), Nani, Anderson, Scholes, Fletcher, O'Shea and any I've missed - is enough to know they can survive an injury crisis far better than the likes of 13-man squad Arsenal can.
Finally, have these naysayers even seen the points difference? United are seven points adrift of leaders Liverpool with two games in hand. If they win those two games, both at home - and they will - they're only a point behind. All it takes is a few dropped points by Liverpool (very likely) and they're top. Not asking much.
My prediction for 2009: Manchester United to win the Premiership.
ii) Facebook is right to ban photos of women breastfeeding. It is. The only problem is that it's gone the wrong way about it.
Breastfeeding photos shouldn't be banned because they're supposedly disgusting, or because nipples shouldn't be on show on such a widely-used website, but because there are some very dodgy people on Facebook who go around stalking women with public profiles. Believe me - I know some of them. Pictures of women liberally breastfeeding are enough to have some sick men reaching for their Kleenex, and for that reason - to protect the people in them - the photos should be banned.
iii)Raymond Blanc, the famous chef, has been a bit irresponsible in my view.
There's not much on it here, but look past the stuff about family mealtimes to the bit about diet books. This is what The Telegraph focused on in their print report today, and quite rightly so.
Blanc has said that diet books make people fear food, rather than enjoy it. He seems to be of the 'live to eat, don't eat to live' party, claiming that British people are so worried about what they should and should not eat they don't eat nice food any more.
This is a tad dangerous in my view. Yes, diet books can be irresponsible too in giving people overly negative images of themselves, but at least they are trying to curb the obesity problem in this country. What we don't need is a leading chef telling people to stop worrying about their weight and eat whatever the hell they want.
iv) This man should resign.
And that's it for 2008! Thanks again for sticking with me. Here's to controversial stories in 2009.
I should be getting my gear on for lunchtime Masters swim as I type this, but it's raining sideways outside. Atypical San Diego weather, you might say. I wouldn't typically mind swimming in a bit of rain. What's the big deal with rain when you're already wet? But when it's coming down this hard, the pool gets closed. It's hard to complain though, elsewhere around the country people are without power due to ice storms... so all things considered, missing an outdoor swim workout is a incredibly minor inconvenience
Can't say I mind too much, I'm bundled up in my home office with a hot cup of coffee, catching up on my blog and about 50 other things on my to-do list today. So, I'll keep this fairly short.
Training is coming along. I'm ramping up the run frequency and staying consistent on the bike.
The best workout of the last couple weeks was my long run on Saturday. I did 15 miles on the coast, Carlsbad south to Leucadia and back, my longest run since the Long Beach Marathon last fall. There was a weather system moving in and the wind was howling... sand was pelting me in the face the entire way back. A gut check, I suppose. Not typically the makings of a great run, but I was able to keep a nice even pace (7:45's) at a low HR (145-150) despite the weather. A good confidence builder.
So then, this is the 25th (kinda) and last Week Spot blog post as you know it. From next week, it will be updated as and when something in the news catches my eye - as, indeed, a blog should be.
Maybe I'll do a weekly round-up again, but I doubt it. So until that day does or doesn't come, here's a bumper final edition of strange stories for you.
And everything's changing, mainly to do with people being removed from the public eye. OJ Simpson's been locked up, Diana Vickers has been voted off X-Factor and Darren Anderton's retired from professional football.
I think that's good, good or bad and bad news respectively, but I'd appreciate your input on that. What do you think?
OJ loses common sense, freedom The British public loses another Diana Official: left-handers plagued by statistics Andy Fordham hits the maximum in weightloss The Discman makes a comeback Sicknote Anderton hangs up his boots
OJ loses common sense, freedom
Dear oh dear. Opinion still seems to be divided over whether OJ Simpson murdered Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman, of whose deaths he was found innocent in 'the trial of the century' in 1995, but we can all agree on something – he's stupid.
Surely OJ should have known for more than a decade now that every move he makes would be watched like a hawk by people aggrieved with the 'not guilty' murder verdict, the authorities and conspiracy theorists. He should have been wary of picking his nose in case it turned out to be holding evidence against him.
So with this in mind, his reaction to the supposed theft of some memorabilia was, well, a bit special. For a start, it's not like he was actually robbed. Two people were trying to sell memorabilia from OJ's footballing days and he claimed it still
belonged to him. Now, what do you do in that situation? Get legal on their arses? Let them peddle the useless wares? Or kidnap them at gunpoint and force them to give the stuff back? The latter, apparently. I think he's started to confuse his life with the movies he's been in.
Yet OJ claims, "I did not know that I was doing anything illegal." Uh... really? What part of it did you think was nice and legal, OJ? Was it the kidnapping or the armed robbery? Honestly, it's like he thinks he can get away with murder or something.
And so this time he's been sent down – down for 33 years (though it'll more likely be nine, when his parole is heard). Interesting. What's yet more interesting is that he was found guilty of this charge 13 years to the day after being acquitted in the murder trial. Some will call this justice; I just think it's the most beautiful irony.
Still, he's got only himself to blame. Silly boy.
The British public loses another Diana
So, Diana has been voted off X-Factor just one round before the grand final. I hear Mattel are desperate to get her voice into a range of Barbie dolls (complete with claw-like hands) to capitalise on the publicity. And the reaction of the rest of us is... conflicting, to say the least.
I haven't been watching X-Factor at all – I've drying paint that needs monitoring – but like many sceptics, I've been dragged in a bit by the drama. From the couple of performances I've seen, I know that some of them can sing, some of them can't, and Diana Vickers is definitely memorable.
That is to say, I don't know if I like her or hate her. She somehow manages to sound bloody awful and absolutely amazing at the same time – something not done since Bob Dylan, albeit in a very different way. I think yesterday's show proved that faster, louder songs don't suit her, which may well be why she was voted out (well, that and she annoys people), but she can belt out a ballad in at least a distinctive way. Put it this way: I don't know if I like it or not, but I still have her version of Coldplay's Yellow in my head. And since the winner is going to sing Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah and you know no one's going to do it better than Jeff Buckley, at least hers would be different from the norm.
The winners are generally dull. Leon? What's happened to him? At least he could sing, I think, which sets him apart from Ray Quinn, who is without a doubt one of the worst singers I have ever heard, and yet he came second a couple of years ago. Listen to him sometime. He doesn't sing any consonants.
Anyway, like her princess namesake, Diana's gone now – cast aside like the proverbial rag doll she physically resembles. As if it matters – she'll get a record contract and, like her 16-year-old rival and potential squeeze Eoghan, will add to the list of people more than 5 years younger than me (she's 17) and phenomenally more successful than I am.
Bastards.
Official: left-handers plagued by statistics
More useless education statistics emerged recently. After the classic that was 'pupils born later in the year do worse in exams' (I've already written an article on that one), we're now told left-handed students don't test as well as their right-handed counterparts. Oh good, so we'll just make sure our children are right-handed, shall we? I'm sure a return to the 19th century will do us good, and make sure we all grow up in a right-handed utopia. But just to make sure, let's move back in time and culture completely and burn lefties at the stake for being witches.
This goes out to the BBC and educational researchers: STOP SPREADING ALARMISM. Non-stories of non-studies like this just lead idiots to worry, and they don't need the persuasion.
I'm not left-handed. But 7-10% of the population are, and please, just leave them alone. Five of the last seven Presidents of the USA – Ford, Reagen, Bush Snr., Clinton and Obama (and McCain as well) – have been left-handed. No one talks about that. Actually, that's probably for the best: the rednecks have enough to go on without our telling them the world is not only in the hands of a black guy, but a left-handed black guy.
I wonder if they've had to move the red button on his desk.
Andy Fordham hits the maximum in weightloss
What the hell has happened to Andy Fordham? I am really, really glad he has decided to kick the drink (seriously, 23 bottles of lager a day?) and lose some weight but he looks emaciated. I mean, I suppose that's what losing 17 stone does to you, but I genuinely don't recognise him. I think it's an actor.
Oh well, good for him, I suppose. But he does look terrifying.
So the lesson here, kids, is if you want to avoid inevitable surgery, don't play darts.
The Discman makes a comeback
And yet I can't find N64 controllers anywhere.
Sicknote Anderton hangs up his boots
So. Farewell Then Darren Anderton.
You have played Your last game. 599. You Scored a volley in the dying minutes to grab a dramatic win for Bournemouth.
Well done.
Sicknote. That Was your name. People called you that Because you were always Injured.
In a lecture on blogging - yes, there are such things - I was told the most important thing for a blog is to be very up-to-date, regularly updated and short.
Ah.
I am a real fan of this blog's form and layout, and even if it is arguably a gimmick, the idea that it is updated every week, allowing me to review the whole week's events. I think it was a good idea, and I stand by that.
However, it is not just feasible for a blog. It would work in print in a weekly format, and it would work online in some other form, perhaps, but you simply cannot have a blog that is updated once a week. Not only is this not often enough to significantly appear on surfers' radars (even though the point is that people know when a new post has been made), it means that stories grow old as the week progresses. True, this has often been useful: waiting until the Sunday that week allowed me to take in the entire fall-out of the Jonathan Ross/Russell Brand situation, and in other cases, too, I have been rewarded for waiting for a story to develop instead of getting in their with an opinion that turned out to be misjudged. What's that Sky News motto? "We're never wrong for long." Well, that's not the motto I want.
Nevertheless, my reaction to breaking news is usually very quick, and so there is no point waiting to voice it to the world online if it is old news by then. People want views - well, theoretically they want my views - at the time.
From now, Huw Davies' Week Spot remains the same in that I am still reviewing the week's events, but as they happen. No more 'Updated on Sundays' - this baby is going to updated when it matters. As news breaks and as my opinions form, this blog will be updated with my views on the subject. So, like a normal blog, basically.
I should warn you: this will not be a go-to site for the most up-to-date news. I can get there quickly, but not any quicker than BBC News and that ilk. Besides, I won't always have anything particularly original to say about the latest update in the financial crisis.
So the blog will continue as usual with my views on the news, but as and when it happens. Capisce?
This week, no blog. Next week: the last Week Spot blog as you know it. And after December 7th, we start afresh.
Thank you for your support. Goodnight... and God bless.
