The trouble was, I always had a reason for not doing it. First, it was because I was just warming up. Then, the wind had veered so it was dead onshore and then the waves weren't pumping. The fact is, I wimped out. Not good enough and now I've probably lost my last chance this year.
Well, it was a pretty good day, even if the wind didn't deliver as much of a punch as we expected. The only real downer was getting dogshit on my boardbag when we were packing up. 
I made a list of things I wanted to do before the end of the year. Having another go at the loop was one of them. 'Cheese roll' or full forward, I don't care, any would do. Just gotta grab my guts in both hands and go for it!
Gotta go! Bye.
]]>Unfortunately, Greenpeace got it wrong. Nuclear power may be dangerous to humans, but nothing like as dangerous as carbon-based power. It's not really their fault. In 1990, no one had woken up to the possibility of global warming so Greenpeace focussed on what appeared to be the greatest threat. Even now, we're still working with incomplete - and in some cases possibly flawed - science, but now only people with their heads buried in the sand or with a vested interest in the staus quo will deny that there is a real probability that the world is at risk from CO2 emissions.
Yes Nuclear power still has risks, but I just can't see how any of the renewables are going to be a big part of the energy equation. The Finacial Times published a fascinating supplement this week which is available online as "The Future of Energy"
According to the managing director of EDF's nuclear business in Britain, we will all have to subsidise his efforts to the tune of 227.UKP per family per year to build the nuclear reactors we need to retain some energy independence over the next 50 years. Now I have to say that I'd rather subsidise a British company to build nuclear reactors in Britain but that's not really an option. We sold out the rights to own our own power generation years ago. That being the case, we just need to bite the bullet and pay. Never mind who builds the reactors as long as we are cleaning up our energy generation and better still that they are on our soil. That way we do have the ultimate sanction should push come to shove.
Finally, let us not imagine that this is the only problem we need to be looking at. Let's not repeat the mistakes of the past. We're still pumping out toxic chemicals and heavy metals into the small, earthly vessel we live in. There WILL be consequences, so we need organisations like Greenpeace raising our awareness and hopefully, they will look at the big picture and use all the best science available! All I need to do now is decide whether to restart contributions...
]]>At the moment, the reports suggests it's gusting from Force 6 to Force 8 with the wind dead onshore which is all a bit much. Smallest sail I have is 4.5m when a 4m would be more appropriate. According to the forecast, things should ease up once the wind veers soon after midday. If that's so, it should be great.
The gnarly conditions set me in mind of "Breath", the book by Tim Winton that I've just finished. If you are a surfer or love the sea or even if you just like good books, this is definately worth a read. The descriptions of the 'Old Smokey', the big wave are deeply evocative.
[Follow up: 07/11/09]
Conditions proved less perfeect than hoped. Otherphil and I arrived at Climping by which time the wind had dropped a lot. Too much in fact. I rigged up my 4.5m sail and wasn't out long before coming in to switch up to the 5.3m. This proved to be a good move because as the sun sank low over the horizon, the wind filled out just enough to keep me powered up for loads of carve gybes. All right, none of them would have won prizes (well perhaps one) but it was fantastic being out there in the surging forces of nature, skittering across the wave tops.
Now I need more! COME ON WIND! I shall attempt the loop this year.
]]>"Surely the bedroom should be for lingerie, leather and unending lust?" I asked my beloved.
"It's the TV or nothing!" quoth she. [Paraphrased somewhat... but the gist is there.]
Anyway, I would not have wanted to read a heavyweight crime novel. It's not my genre and so many of them look very dark and unpleasant.
]]>If you want proof of this, you need only look to 'deja-vu'. You've seen the scene because your brain was several nano-seconds ahead of you and constructed it in your head already and your conscious mind only just processed it. For another example, just think of humour. Much of our humour is based on the unexpected. The joke lines up your brain for one outcome and then presents you unexpectedly with an entirely different one. The bigger the gap between the expected and outcome, the bigger the surprise and the laugh. Your inference engine got it wrong. 
An even better example is the tennis player, moving with little conscious thought to intersect the arc of the ball in flight, tennis racket perfectly angled to dampen the power from the opponents shot so as to drop the ball just over the net and out of reach of her opponent. That is the massive power of the inference engine at work, calculating speed, vectors, wind, spin and guessing at the opponent's likely actions!
So what's going on when you dream? Well, in deep sleep, there's not a great deal of external feed into the brain. Everything's damped right down. But when you're in shallower sleep, signals start to creep through and neurons start firing. The brain's response? Build plausible scenarios or as they should perhaps be called "pre-realities". Hey presto, you dream. "What do those signals coming in from my hand mean? Oooh, don't know! Perhaps a crocodile is eating it? Perhaps you're extracting honey from a tree trunk?"
Why are dreams so crazy? Because your conscious mind isn't entirely engaged, the brain (mostly) doesn't have control over where these dreams go. Furthermore, rational processing in the neo-cortex isn't on-hand to discount absurd scenarios. And the reason so many of them are absurd is because the signals coming in aren't strong, so the inference engine isn't getting good direction. The weaker the signals from sensory apparatus, the more hazy the predictions become and the more zany the 'pre-reality' can become.
Some people report being able to control how their dream evolves and that's entirely consistent with this theory. This is because as you gradually wake, your conscious mind begins to be able to process and discard scenarios. Still though, the input signals are weak, so there's not much competition from sensory input so the dreamer can pick and choose from the possible outcomes presented.
It might be a while before my theory is accepted as mainstream, especially as so many people want to see a positive theory for why we dream. My explanation suggests it's merely a by-product of the processes we need while we're awake which isn't very WOW, but it IS nice and simple.
]]>Coupled with the comms channel overload, we're now in the run up to the silly season when I/we have to make contact with loads of (mostly) good folk and I have already run out of weekends between now and Christmas. Great that we (the family) and I have so many good friends and acquaintances but PHEW! I think my liver will pack up unless I work hard to nurse it through these tricky months.
A lot of time in the evenings now is taken up on guitar practice so even less time for mindless chatter. And with that thought...
]]>(I'm OK handling the spindly ones, it's the chunky, hairy ones that have me reaching for a container.)
]]>Anyhow, so I am in touch with her and lending my support from afar. So the grapevine is doing what I was not allowed to use the email for. That'll have to do for now.
From my own perspective, I think the last time I went out as Penny was in May. I cannot cope much longer like this...NEED A FIX, MUST GET OUT SOON! I shall get in touch with my friend Tina tonight and suggest some dates that should work.
]]>I have finally taken up guitar lessons and I'm almost in tears of joy at how easy it is to make progress with just a little help and some targets to aim for. OK, I won't ever be Ralph McTell or Eric Clapton, but if I stay disciplined and practice hard, I might pass as a guitar player.
I remember being signed up for piano lessons at the age of 9 or 10 and instantly hating it. My music teacher was an old dried-up prune of a lady whose childhood (if she had ever had any) had long since withered away inside her. Quavers, crotchets and minims. Practice, practice, practice, but never, ever a hint of fun. Needless to say I begged to be able to give up. Oh how I wished she had shown me a few quick tricks on the ivories. A few notes in a minor chord to spear into the heart of my soul and draw me down into the world of sweet, sweet music.
My son was similarly deterred from playing the trumpet. "Practice, practice, pratice!" droned his teacher, and never showed their spirits how to take to the wing. Of course practice is vital, but the seed of delight needs to be planted and nurtured first, especially with the youngsters.
Now I have 25 years (at least) of practice to catch up on and I'm going to love every minute of it.
]]>Would you be happier placing your hard earned cash with a bank who could pay 80 cents on the dollar back or the bank that could only pay back 15 cents in the dollar? This way, you could offset promised returns against one measure of risk.
Of course, the only problem we face now, is how to prevent the banks from overstating complex assets and weasley obfuscation of the type typified by so-called 'credit default swaps'.
Well...I can't do it all myself!
Click here and search for Turing.
If you don't know who Turing is and what he did (and what was done to him), read this article on the BBC.
]]>Six months would have been nice, but financially not possible, so six weeks while the children are off school sounds like a great idea, especially as my wife is working now. I can't begin to describe the hand-wringing and angst that my plans were met with both at work and at home! The fear and suspicion I was confronted with could hardly have been greater if I had suggested we try to teach children to juggle kitchen knives and hand-grenades.
Anyway, whether by fair or by foul means, I have managed to line everyone up. All that I need now is to sort out the loose ends at work, welll the big ones anyway, and scoot. The plan is, one week at home with the kids doing stuff with them while D is at work, two weeks on holiday in St Lucia (hopefully the local hostility to Brits will have died down now that Amy Winehouse has gone home), a week back home, a week camping in Cornwall and one final week recovering before returning to the hell that is being a wage-slave. 
I really think I'm counting the minutes now!
]]>Feet? For pity's sake! Rant against the government, rail against the weather, grumble about the economy and moan about the lawlessness, but feet? Really? OK, so maybe you're not a big afficionado or a foot fetishist. I'm not much bothered either way to tell you the truth. Like faces, some people have ugly feet and some are in the possession of more beautiful ones. Almost everyone shows their faces, so why not their feet? Get over it Giles!
Some things about feet are quite remarkable. They are the most complex joint in your body with the most bones, 26 or 28 in each, depending on how you count them. In spite of that, they bear more weight than either knee or hip joints and are less likely to go wrong? Being the furthest part of your body away from your eyes, they probably get less attention and TLC than they deserve. Cut them a little slack Giles.
]]>No. A giant, interstellar-class alien spaceship swallowed up Flight 447, cutting off radio messages before an SOS could be transmitted.
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Warning! This blog is created by a brain sometimes known for the generation of bullshit. Despite stringent quality control, some cross-contamination cannot be ruled out.
]]>
Now, what new project can I dream up? Oh yes, laying a parquet floor in my house. Something I have never done before and am therefore well qualified to do. 
Offspring #1 above and offspring #3 starting up...
The book has left me with mixed feelings. It is an incredibly densly packed book and comes across like a linear brain-dump. There's some honesty in there but I never lost the feeling that something was being held from me. Selfish, flamboyant, moody and at the same time, generous and loving. Complex. I do feel incredibly normal and boring now, but I certainly wouldn't swap my life with what he had/has. What really impressed me was that in spite of becoming a worldwide celebrity and losing himself in drugs (and recovering?), he never seemed to want to leave his family behind. Sure they would have felt neglected at times, but they stuck by him in tough times and he never severed the link to them completely. In spite of the madness, the family ties were strong, and in these selfish times, that has to be a special thing.
]]>Perhaps it's time for a change. I need a new exciting job. I need the smooth skin of a young and eager woman beneath me. I need ... a damn good kicking! I've got it f**king great so why the blues?
Pfff!
]]>Winner features here!
Cute or what?
This book has left me with a very strange feeling. I don't like violence and certainly don't approve of Alex and his droogs' ultra-violence, but in a strange way, the book has sort got under my skin.
The state oppression seems like a rehashed theme, but of course this book came out in the early 60's. Naturally, totalitarian regimes abound nowadays and even the ones who claim to support freedom of speech and human rights are rather less than shiny!
Anyway, if you haven't read it, you probably should. There are no end of parallels between the world Anthony Burgess paints and the one we live in today, especially when you think of all the postcode gangs and knife-induced death in London these days. If you can get through the first fifteen pages, you'll find the questions that its ideas, poetry and nadsat creep back into your mind.
]]>My friend Tina told me about an article The Daily Mail had written in a prudish and shock-scandalised tones 
about a regular booking of a hall in Surrey by a groupd of transvestites. 50 years out of touch, the paper has obviously been shamed into removing the article. When I went to look for it, the paper's site said that the page I was looking for had been removed.
The worrying thing is that lots of people read this rag and think it's a newspaper. You'll see that I was very careful to use the word 'paper' to describe it and not 'newspaper'. There's a difference you see!
]]>Eliyah Karraiyugi (7) who walks a 16 mile round trip every day to fetch water for her family said she was contributing her life savings to CommuteHelp.co.uk, a charity dedicated to shortening travel times for commuters in the UK. "I can't bear to see the poor souls trapped in crowded trains for three hours at a time!" she said.
]]>http://www.nostradamusonline.com/?a=375
The author has apparently been studying the quatrains of Nostradamus for over 30 years! Proof, if ever any were required, that some people have WA-HAY-HAY too much time on their hands.
]]>http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/7796663.stm
Wake up! The world is full of shades of grey. Enforcing conformity will lead to hate and misery.
]]>Last Saturday, I joined up with Cass, Ga and Ge for a night out in London. Cass and I shared a hotel room and I was priviledged to be present at a truely wonderful transformation. Cass always looks magnificent! Me, I tried my hardest and wound up, as usual looking like the old boot I am. :-( Oh well. Thankfully, the great thing about dressing up is that it's mostly in your head. I wore a simple purple blouse and a dark shiffon skirt 'cut on the bias' (thanks for that description Harple!) both of which were gifts from Terry a year ago. My fave Wallis heels were the weapon of choice for footwear.
Ga and Ge joined us at the hotel bar and after a couple of drinks we headed for LMNT, a restaurant in Hackney, which I had been promised was an experience. This is one of those flamboyant restaurants with eccentric decor and a cosy booth mentality. Sadly, it was such miserable weather that day - it rained and rained and rained - that the cold and damp permeated everything and I never quite shook off the chill, in spite of us getting a tiny booth that I could barely squeeze my tiny bum (yes, thank you) into. Thank goodness the food was unpretentious and very tasty! Ga insisted on a bottle of bubbly as she was celebrating her almost retirement at a very advantageous age. In fact, bless her, she even ended up paying for the meal.
Cass and Ge are firm friends and really lovely people to be around. They (and I knew this was going to happen) handed out Christmas cards and of course, I had nothing to give out which made me feel like a total sh*t. Anyway, we dropped by the WOC later and bumped into quite a few of the regulars. After a bit of gossip and chit-chat, I got talking to quite a handsome, well-dressed young man who was over from Canada. I asked Dane how he'd found this club to which he replied that he'd found it online. Still, I didn't twig. I just thought it was great that an open-minded guy turned up to sample London's more exotic nightlife. Finally, I twigged. Dane was also TG but hadn't brought appropriate clothing to effect a change into femme. A shame, 'cos I think he would have looked great.
I really got into the dancing for a while and thoroughly enjoyed myself before my feet started to hurt. I must invest in some of those 'party feet'. Something I love when I'm dancing is watching others. So many people are rubbish, like me and then there are some, almost all of them real girls, who just get it. They just seem to be able to become one with the music and their whole body responds. I'm not thinking of the ones who just shuffle backwards and forwards, you know what I mean!
At the end of the evening, I joined Ga for a cup of tea and a chat. I know, it's hardly "partying to the max" is it, but I was really parched and it hit the spot. Ga was sweet. I hope I left her with a sense that the world is a good place before I tottered off back to my hotel at 3am. Cass was back in the room so I had to tiptoe around so as not to wake her. Not sure I managed completely, but she was very polite the next day.
Thanks for a great night out girls! I've heard the Magic Theatre may be moving back to its old venue in Lewisham which would be great. I'd love to do that again. Maybe something for a cold day in Feb. ;-)
]]>You can change your online profile and make sure your options exclude you from receiving emails. It doesn't work.
You can reply with an "unsubscribe" message, but that doesn't work.
You can email them and complain. I did. That didn't work.
You can speak to them directly on the phone. I did and a sweet lady gave me her cast-iron assurance that not only would they unsubscribe me from marketing material, they would ensure my name was removed from the database. Two weeks later and I am still receiving Thorntons spam! :-(
]]>
I've just taped up the crack around the loft in the hope that that's their route. If the population drops over the next 24 hours, that must be the source.
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