Why Do I Bother Gets a Makeover

As promised I have made some changes to the blog. In summary:

• The overall theme has been changed, losing all that wasted space on the sides of the blog and hopefully making the thing easier to read. The colour scheme has changed slightly as well.
• A YouTube link has been added, currently this will mainly show my own YouTube channel (full of my cats being cute) along with some other stuff which the widget includes at random, contrary to my wishes:).
• You can now subscribe to this blog by email. This is a painless process, involving the supply of an email address, followed by the usual graphic verification stuff. You will get an email, just hit the confirm link and you will then get all the goodies I post direct to your inbox for your edification. Given the recent scarcity of posts this is probably the best way to follow:).
• I have reconfigured the advertising side of life as well, this should now be a little less intrusive than it used to be.
• Done some other general tidying and rearrangement to hopefully make the whole experience better for all.

These changes have very much been driven by personal feel, without any input from anyone else. Feel free to comment on the changes. If you have encountered functionality on another blog that could be of benefit and does not currently feature here feel free to comment, this is your space as much as it is mine. If you have an example URL that would be more helpful than a description of the function.

OK, enough with the release notes… enjoy!

Where Have I Been?

Sorry, have been very lazy and have neglected this blog for a number of reasons. Lack of inspiration, perspiration and application I guess. Anyhow, due to a general resolution to be more hands on with this stuff, I am back.

So, hello again. Expect some improvements to the blog experience to follow shortly. These improvements should make the blog easier to follow and a little more fun when you get there.

Watch this space.

Randall – The New Arrival

Everyone say ahhh! Randall has arrived and our house will never be the same again. Adding to our existing gang of adult cats comes this little bag of love. First of all some introductions are required:

Leo

Leo is our eldest, 9 and proud. Also quite aloof and generally stand-offish to all. That being said he is still loving, and to be quite honest, a bit of a doofus.

Pippy

Also known as Pippalinda and various other embarrassing aliases, invented by us human types. Pippy is a year younger, but really sees himself as the boss of the house. This is a delusion that he believes without question. My wife suffers a delusion that he is not fat, just stocky/big boned, this debate has been raging for years.

Randall

Unlike Pippy and Leo who are pedigree moggies, Randall has a real pedigree. Randall is a Scottish Fold, a very special breed as the wiki post will testify. Now I have had kittens before all of the above and several more when I was younger and they were all cute. Randall, however, is in a different class. He is already a hit on the interweb, check this cute overload posting if you don’t believe me.

So, you get the picture, Scottish Folds are not like moggies for a number of reasons. One, they can trace their ancestry, the original Scottish Fold was called Susie and was identified in Scotland in 1961. She was entered into a breeding program, which produced many kittens, the most important female being Snooks. All Scottish Folds can trace their ancestry to Susie and Snooks.

I read a book about a particular Scottish Fold called Norton, and this is what turned me on to the breed. If you are interested in the life of Norton and his owner then you should check out Peter Gethers, who has travelled with, suffered and loved Norton in equal bounds.

Meanwhile, my Scottish Fold, Randall has a two way relationship with the rest of the house. Leo screeches and consequently ignores him.

Pippy, on the other hand, tolerates him and occasionally loves him. In the interim he may fight, bite, claw and eviscerate him, but this is a relationship to be savoured.

Pippy loves/tolerates his baby brother and should be commended for that. The level of toleration sometimes amazes me. Randall will regularly bite his tail, attempt to bite his face off and generally annoy him in many ways. Pippy takes all of this in his stride up to a point and then will go for the throat, but in a nice way.

It seems that Pippy has take him under his paw and is going to look after him, so if any of you are worried about integrating a new cat into your house, don’t worry, because some cat will step up to the plate.

The Quick and The Resigned.

Life continues to amuse. Once again the activities of senior officials in the UK makes me chuckle.

The gentleman in question on this occasion is Bob Quick. He was an assistant commissioner in the UK police force and more importantly the UK's most senior counter terrorism officer. The requirements of both roles must have expected a certain level of discretion and almost certainly, secrecy. The man was most likely cavorting with spies for pity's sake.

Imagine the embarrassment then when said Mr Quick emerges from a limo for an important meeting at 10 Downing Street. He has a clutch of files, folders and documents in his hand. He looks very important. One small problem; his filing appears to have gone a little astray. A document regarding something very top secret is completely exposed to the hungry lenses of the press, and then circulated around the world. A highly secret anti-terrorism grab raid across the UK is completed "slightly earlier than expected" presumably because the culprits had a rather unexpected heads up. Oh dear.

One can only imagine wailing and wringing of handkerchiefs that have been going on in the Quick household recently. Oh dear.

Having scanned the internet and gathered some comments it would appear that some people think his voluntary resignation regrettable. I do not share this view. Anyone whose job involves working with the intelligence community should be not seen and not heard full stop. Given the position Mr Quick recently occupied I should not even know his name, let alone what he carries under his arm.

Note to Downing Street, have you considered webex?

Richard Timney and Ms Smith…

When I am unsure about what to write about, I cast about the news stories of the UK to see what amuses me and as a consequence may amuse you. So first of all let's paint a picture… There is a big kerfuffle in Whitehall regarding MP's expenses. Ms Smith is an MP and she is one of the more prominent ones, Home Secretary in fact.

This kerfuffle was rather amusingly made even more public when it emerged that Ms Smith had mistakenly claimed £10 for two items of pornographic material rented through a satellite/ broadband TV provider.

It is for the record pointed out that Ms Smith, who has repaid the monies mentioned, is very embarrassed about the whole affair. It should also be pointed out that her husband Richard Timney also made a statement regretting the purchase of said material whilst his wife was away on business. One can only imagine how much grief he is getting at home.

Anyhow, what's happened has happened. Hotels itemise purchases of material of this nature as "insert non-descript narrative for services here". I imagine that said TV providers do something similar. So I guess a little tip for Ms Smith in future when claiming for items on the telly bill in future would be if it is not a specifically named program or film, ITS PORN!

Cigarettes and Alcohol and Hiccups

Not as catchy as the Oasis song. Messrs Gallagher got it right from a rock and roll perspective when they talked about alcohol and didn't get involved in the hiccups, of that there is no doubt. This phenomenon (da daa di da da) however needs investigation. The phenomenon (da daa di da da) in question can be described thus: (from the notes of a defrocked and possibly mad scientist who happened to live 120 years ago.)

The subject was plied with a significant amount of wine. Not enough to make him pickled, merely a quantity associated with an average afternoon tipple for a gentlemen of leisure.

Twas observed at numerous points the subject lit a tobaccanous substance and began to suffer from the most precocious wind exuding from the vocal area but no doubt originating from the nether regions.

Furthermore, it was observed that the wind previously described seemed to be directly related to inhalation of the aforementioned substance by the subject. The exhalation
of noxious fumes from the subject did not elicit the same response.

These expurgations evinced much distress in the subject, causing dismayed comments regarding the nature of the described outbursts. The subject was an earthy sort from the mines no doubt, paid a shilling for his troubles, and as a consequence is not noted here.

And so it goes on in a bodice-ripping stylee.

I can fill out this charming (and completely fabricated) Victorian "science" experiment with some personal experiences that are akin to those of the "earthy sort" described in the paragraph above.

And it goes like this…

The subject was plied with a significant amount of wine.

Check.

Twas observed at numerous points the subject lit a tobaccanous substance.

Check.

And then come the hiccups, not every time, not even occasionally, but when they do I know about it. They are persistent, they are irritating, they plague every inbound breathe of the smoker. This is not fair. I, by choosing to smoke, accept many potential pitfalls, as documented by impeachable resources too many to number. Shortness of breath, life etc are well documented. This tobacco induced hiccupping has not been highlighted on the increasingly graphic packaging which contains my little coffin nails. I have been, and continue to be, annoyed by this.

Now, if science cannot find a solution (unlikely), then governments should use my dire as a warning to potential smokers. Not only does smoking harm your health, at times it can be damn irritating as well.

Fungal Infection

Not the most inviting title to a blog post I know, don't worry this is not about a trip to a sexual disease clinic! This is a fish related post.

Recently one of my fish, a black Molly, started to show signs of a fluffy white growth on its skin. After much browsing of the tinternet the consensus appeared to be quarantine the fish in question as the infection may be contagious. Once quarantined in Guantanamo bowl (new readers should be aware that this is the name given to small supplementary tank purchased for occasions such as this) the fish should be medicated if necessary and returned to the main aquarium once the infection has healed.

This is all sounded quite straightforward, too straightforward. Anyone who in the past has attempted to catch non-specific fish with the aid of a rod and reel will tell you it is easy enough if you have the right bait and the patience. Take away the rod, reel and bait and tell them to get the black one called Gerald with the aid of nothing but a net and let's see how the smug gits get on.

I found that it is quite easy to catch any old fish in a fish tank. Any of the fish that you are not actively pursuing will be curious of about the arrival of a fish net in their midst. Some will swim into the net and set up stalls selling trinkets and concert tickets for their friends. This is not helpful to my cause as I have to wait for the stall to wrap-up for the day before I can continue stalking the unfortunate diseased Molly (it should be pointed out to any serious fish enthusiasts who stumble upon this site that the last two sentences are lies).

It has taken two attempts but the Molly in question now resides in Guantanamo, receiving the best medical care modern science has to offer. I will keep you posted on the little fella's progress.

Getting to America – Part 2

I have not really done very much blogging since Getting to America - Part 1 so here is the second bit.

Anyone, who, like me does not pass the test detailed in the first part, should read on. Anyone who is amused by my startling inability to deal with simple paperwork should also read on.

Anyone else should also read on.

Getting to America – Part 2.

To set the scene…

I had been refused a visa-waiver from the US Government because I cannot, in all honesty answer Yes to all five questions postulated by the on-line visa waiver form. As a result I had to attempt
to contain an actual grown-up real visa from the US Embassy.

There are a number of steps to this process. This can be summarised as follows:

• Firstly extract your criminal record from CRB at a relatively small cost. For the record, £35 if you are organised or £70 if you need it RIGHT NOW like me. There will be further cost.
• Secondly, make an appointment at an appropriately located US Embassy and book a Visa appointment. This will cost 113 of your American dollars.
• Fill out a spectacular number of forms. There will be further costs.
• Attend your appointment at the appropriately located US Embassy. There will be further costs.
• Wait, pray, eat fingernails etc. There will be further costs.

Now, you may be wondering what I did to deserve this, which is fair.

I distributed a small quantity of drugs to a bunch of people who wanted them. I did this on a regular basis. End of story. No small South American Republics were destabilised. No Afghan poppy farmers could attribute their contribution to the Taliban to my activities. Pablo Escobar didn't get the opportunity to roll around in a shinier Bentley cos of me.

Get over it; I was a little spoke in a really small wheel…

But, no matter how small I was, and no matter how distant in time the offences that occurred (13 years to be exact!) I still had to suffer the process, and this is how it began.

I had by this time extracted a full copy of my criminal record from the British Criminal Records Bureau. This was almost straight-forward. Fill out a form and provide some proof of who you are. The second bit requires photo-copies of various important documents, passport, driving license, utility bills, that sort of thing. This is fine; however the photocopies should be witnessed by someone who is deemed to be "official". That is someone like a doctor, solicitor, accountant, post office master, butcher, baker, candle-stick maker etc etc. I was also in the progress of remortgaging the house at this point and had already had to do this once. Back I trotted to the not particularly busy village post mistress and had another bunch of documents authenticated. She probably thinks I am smuggling people and providing them with new identities…

This was my first brush with bureaucracy, and not too painful. I understood all the questions on the form (of which there was only one). The documents, along with the all important criminal record were returned to me on time without me having to shout at anyone. This was however, good ole' UK bureaucracy, the best was yet to come.

Back to the plot; my next task was to make an appointment to speak to the US Embassy so my case could be reviewed before my grown-up Visa could be issued. I may have previously alluded to this but just to remind you all, I had left this a teensy bit late. Basically I had approximately five weeks from failing my initial exam to D-Day (flight day) to make this happen. So I phoned for an appointment.

Me: Can I make an appointment to apply for a Visa?

Them: (Nice sounding Irish person): Where would you like to make this appointment?

Me: London.

Them: There are no appointments in London for the next two months. When are you travelling?

Me (sweating): ermm… five weeks.

Them: Then you will need to go to Belfast. We can get you in there two weeks from today.

Me (sweating slightly less): Great, book it.

So, in the event, I had to fly to Ireland to get a Visa to America (anyone well versed with historical migrations to the US will appreciate the irony).

The day of the interview dawned and as I had to be at the Embassy by 10AM I had to be out of bed at the crack of dawn. One bleary-eyed flight across the Irish Sea later and I was in Belfast. This is all too straight-forward!

One little issue… you cannot take anything electronic into the US Embassy, this includes mobile phones. Thought there would be a baggage drop at the airport where I could leave it till my return, well, there wasn't. Arghhh! Spoke to a nice person who informed there was a baggage drop service in Belfast centre, (slightly out of my way!) but in the circumstances would have to suffice.

Next would be a taxi, which should have been simple and it was. Got in taxi, explained my requirements and was promptly asked what time my appointment was. 10am, I replied. You'll not be able to get there in time if you go to the baggage drop place as well. Oh I said. Fluttering my eyelids I asked if he was going back to the airport and if he would look after it for me. After some discussion he agreed to leave it in the taxi drivers "lounge" at the airport on top of the fridge in an envelope with my name on it. Great! So off we went.

I booked my flight which would leave three weeks after the appointment for processing of the forms (this in itself was not a foregone conclusion. For all I knew I would be clamped in irons for the mere temerity of asking to be admitted to the US, after all I had answered No to one of the questions.)

At this point I will round up this log, tune in next time for Getting to America Part 3 – The Interview.

Endtroducing… Smiffy

And so to Smiffy…

It is only fair that when new staff have been recruited to the blog they are accordingly recognised, (especially if they happen to be your wife!).

Smiffy is a whole bunch of lovely, wonderful things to me that I won't bore you with. What, as a regular reader you need to appreciate is what Smiffy contributes to this blog. The process goes a little like this…

Step 1: I write a bunch of stuff and submit to a test site.

Step 2: Smiffy reads and corrects all my amusing attempts at correct GRAMMAR. At this point it should be explained that my use of commas is comparable to US napalm fuelled "deforestation" air raids in Vietnam, that is to say occasionally indiscriminate and often inappropriate. Commas are a big issue for Smiffy. Often COMMAS also get the capital treatment. It should also be explained that the word GRAMMAR can only be pronounced in capitals by Smiffy.

Step 3: I whine and moan about the stupidities of correct GRAMMAR and refuse to make the changes.

Step 4: A husband and wife debate ensues… the changes are made.

Step 5: Finally the Smiffy enhanced version of my scribble gets published and this is what you get to read.

It may sound from the tone of this that I am negative about Smiffy, but that is not true. What I am negative about is being corrected, cos at times I can be a teensy bit arrogant and "unreceptive to constructive criticism" (Smiffy made me write that!). Hopefully you will forgive me and understand me as time flies by.

Most importantly, appreciate Smiffy for what she brings to this blog, as in GRAMMAR and her support. And maybe the best bit is unconditional LOVE (no matter how bad my GRAMMAR is.).

Why Follow?

You may have noticed a little widget on the side-bar of this website labelled followers. If you are new to this as I still am, then you may be wondering what this is all about. Don't worry I did too when I first added it.

Apparently people may visit this site whilst browsing blogs and like what they see. They may then disappear into the ether never to be seen again, like ships passing in the night. I guess it would be really nice if that didn't happen and that is what following is all about. I am in this for the long haul whether my regular existing followers like it or not. It is also worth mentioning that there are other blogs of note out there as well, so learning how following works is a useful thing to understand.

I could explain it myself, (badly), with lots of poorly formatted screenshots that won't fit properly on the page and generally get very irritated. The alternative would be to look for yourself. If you are unsure I suggest you do.

Hopefully you will come back in the future and see what I have been up to, if you choose to follow it just makes it easier, oh and maybe makes me feel a little better.

Getting to America – Part 1

If you are a follower or regular visitor to this site then you will have already seen me espouse upon the loose and wondrous virtues of Las Vegas.

Chronologically this post really should have come first, but never mind. This is a saga of several parts, and I'm not quite sure how many as yet but I am keen to keep it in bite size chunks, so bear with me.
To begin at the beginning, I went to Vegas recently. If you have been to the US before you would have been made aware of something called the Visa Waiver program. The Visa Waiver program used to consist of a green slip of paper handed to you on the plane. There were seven important questions on the green slip of paper. These questions are now on a website. Here they are, along with answers and thought processes involved:
Question A: Do you have a communicable disease, physical or mental disorder, or are you a drug abuser or addict?


Drug abuser or addict is reasonably clear, as is communicable disease I suppose. A clear definition of physical or mental disorder would be really helpful at this point. Anyhow, I took a risk and plumped for No.
Question B: Have you ever been arrested or convicted for an offense or crime involving moral turpitude or a violation related to a controlled substance; or have been arrested or convicted for two or more offenses for which the aggregate sentence to confinement was five years or more; or have been a controlled substance trafficker; or are you seeking entry to engage in criminal or immoral activities?
OMG, so many questions in one sentence. I had to look up moral turpitude; simple definition appears to be anything bad that might have involved a conversation with the police. Had a bit of a problem with violations relating to a controlled substance, so I had to click Yes.
Question C: Have you ever been or are you now involved in espionage or sabotage; or in terrorist activities; or genocide; or between 1933 and 1945 were you involved; in any way in persecutions associated with Nazi Germany or its allies?


Interesting that they would ask if you have ever been involved in espionage, as surely one of the prerequisites of the profession is to never talk about it. As for terrorist activities, if anyone was stupid enough to answer Yes to that then Mr Obama should keep Guantanamo open just for them. For me clearly a No.
Question D: Are you seeking to work in the U.S.; or have you ever been excluded and deported; or have been previously removed from the United States; or procured or attempted to procure a visa or entry into the U.S. by fraud or by misrepresentation?


Erm… No.
Question E: Have you ever detained, retained or withheld custody of a child from a U.S. citizen granted custody of the child?


Again, No.
Question F: Have you ever been denied a U.S. visa or entry into the U.S. or had a U.S. visa cancelled? If yes; when and where?
Well, No.
Question G: Have you ever asserted immunity from prosecution?
No, but I would love to know how, where do I sign?
I clicked to submit and was informed, rather abruptly I thought, that I would not be able to enter the United States under the Visa Waiver program. Well, that's a little unfair, I got six out of seven right, that's about 86%, what sort of exam is this? Apparently it's an exam where you have to score 100% every time.
As a consequence I would have to apply for a proper serious Visa. Unfortunately this involves having a more than significant brush with something I have a little bit of trouble dealing with: Bureaucracy.
Bureaucracy has been defined as "the slowness, the ponderousness, the routine, the complication of procedures and the maladapted responses of the bureaucratic organization." As you will soon learn, dear reader, this is in fact an understatement taken to a whole new level. I may need to invent a new word for it.
Anyhoo I certainly wasn't happy. But, I had no choice. I had to do the dance of the pen-pusher, so like Alice and Keanu Reeves I took the red pill and disappeared down the bureaucratic rabbit hole.
To be continued...

Las Vegas and Architects, back to the drawing board.

Hmm...

Recently I had the pleasure of visiting Las Vegas, (the one in Nevada with the casinos just in case there is more than one), which was much fun.

The time that wasn't spent on gambling, drinking and going on extended road trips to the Grand Canyon involved taking in the place and as a result the architecture.

The architecture is certainly one of the most striking aspects of Las Vegas, (if you ignore the gambling). I think that some of the discussions between architects and prospective hotel owners must have been quite surreal.

An example (allegedly), about Luxor, a hotel in Vegas which coincidentally share's it name with a historic city in Egypt. The city that houses the Valley of The Kings and other great historical attractions from antiquity; antiquity being an umbrella term for really old stuff.

This is a transcript from a telephone conference between architect and developer during the creation of the Luxor hotel, arc for architect, dev for developer. Clearly, an understanding of scale has not been established between the developer, who lives near Vegas and the architect, who has never seen Vegas. This happened in the early stages of the "build".

dev: So hi, glad you are on board with this project, I have heard great things about your previous work on the Millennium Dome.

arc: (sound of spluttering)... (pause for breath) Why thank you for having us on board. Obviously our reputation precedes us.

dev: Indeed, so, what we are looking for is a design for a hotel that captures the essence of Egypt but at the same time accommodates the base line requirements, as in maximising the gaming floor.

arc: Egypt is quite a big place, with a lot of cultural influences, what sort of size did you have in mind?

dev: Oh, I have a significant amount of space/money and I want to capture all of Egypt's cultural influences... I want a pyramid and a sphinx, oh and a big laser.

arc: OK... so we want a hotel, with a gaming area that is in keeping with the feel of Luxor and it should involve a pyramid, a sphinx and a laser.

dev: Yup, that'll do for now, send me some plans.

Some days pass...

And then another phone call.

dev: I've had a little time to look over the plans and there are a few problems.

arc: Oh really?

dev: Yes firstly the size, it isn't big enough for a start. I think if you take the existing dimensions and add another nought to all the numbers that should cover it.

arc: OK...

dev: The laser, apparently you will able to see this for miles around?

arc: On a clear night certainly.

dev: How about Space?

arc: I'm sorry?

dev: Space, will you be able to see it from Space, this is very important.

arc: Is the astronaut market that important to you?

dev: Not exactly, but it is important, it looks good for the investors.

arc: OK, we'll look into it.

dev: The accommodation is a little obvious as well.

arc: Obvious?

dev: Indeed, floor after floor of accommodation just stacked above the base level, like any other building really. I was thinking the accommodation should hug the sides of the pyramid, that would make a statement.

arc: There would be certain challenges in doing that, elevators for instance.

dev: In what way?

arc: They would have to go sideways as well as up.

dev: Is that a problem?

arc: It's not exactly the conventional way lifts work.

dev: Oh I'd never noticed. Just get it done. Oh and one last thing, the artists impression of the sphinx with the missing nose, what is that all about.

arc: It's a scale recreation of the original at Giza.

dev: Really, you'd think they'd fix that. Get her a nose job, nobody wants to see that.

arc: (sigh) OK, consider it done.

This may all sound a little over the top, but that is exactly what Las Vegas is. The most outrageous monument to excess, and then some more.

A little something about fish…

I mentioned in my first post that this blog was not going to be a eulogy to the ecstasies of pet ownership. Didn't take long did it?

I guess it is right to get the boring stuff out of the way…

I have a tank for tropical fish about " " long and " " wide and about " " deep. It holds some water.

This is not censorship, I just don't want to bore you with the details. Imagine if they censored the dimensions of fishtanks…

Anyhow…

It has some fish in it, some are Guppies and some are Minnows and some are Mollies with a couple of Shrimps and a Pleco thrown in. Basically, some pretty fish in a tank.

All was well. All was in fact very relaxing, I was starting to get the whole staring at a fish tank and just enjoying their moving about. This was, overall, quite a pleasant experience. It does become a little worrying if you have been sat staring at something without moving for an hour that isn't the television. Even more worrying if you realise you have been drooling for most of this time without realising, (this story, incidentally was related to me by a "friend").

Things were going swimmingly (sorry), until the Angel fish were introduced.

Just in case you are reading this and are unsure of the breed, Angel fish are the pretty tropical fish that look a little like swept back arrow heads from the side, as per the illustration top left. Face to face they are a little less pretty, insubstantial in fact. A little like a fish which has been through a printing press, flat. This is not meant to be a tropical fish seminar, but it help's to be able to visualise.

A few things about Angel fish:

• Apparently Angel is a little misleading
• They can be a "little" territorial
• They may nip the fins of fish with bright tails (which narrows it down to about 95% of our tank)
• They have to be added to a tank last because, well I don't know to be honest, but it's true apparently.

I found all of the above very interesting but wanted them anyway, well they are v pretty. A little bit like being presented a blank white four walled room with a red button along with a little sign underneath saying "Do not press the red button". You know you shouldn't but…

At this point I am sounding a little uncaring of the welfare of the existing fish community, which is not true. In the event of accidents or disasters there is a backup tank available for quarantining badly behaving or baby fish. It is round. We call it Guantanamo Bowl. So in the event of something bad happening there was a contingency plan, oh and I kept the receipt.

So the day of introduction came, after purchasing the Angel fish. If you have not been party to the fish purchasing process before transporting fish to your home is no different than winning a goldfish at a funfair. Water, clear plastic bag and carry it home.

And the point of all this? Well, the two hours spent staring, and certainly not drooling, at the tank after the introduction of the Angel fish were certainly not relaxing. There is something about them. The other fish seem carefree, swimming about, no sign of any great purpose apart from marking out time until the next meal. Not Angel fish, they float like butterflies, they sting like bees (sorry, got distracted for a moment).

It is like observing the most dangerous of assassins walk into your local bar for a beer. Crowds will part without knowing why, space will appear at the bar even though people have been waiting for hours to be served. The assassin, of course, filling the vacuum, will be served immediately. The barperson will forget to collect the money.

Angel fish, like the assassin, have charisma, they exude something dangerous, unexpected and exciting. Annoyingly, they do it without trying.

This being said, so far they have been no trouble at all. I like their style and envy their stage prescence (which granted does go a little flat when viewed face on) and continue to hope that Guantanamo Bowl remains empty.

First Post

So…

I'm new to this, this blogging thing. I don't want to sound like I am some like I am some forty-something who is trying to get a hand on some new technology because it either

• sounds cool.

or

• I feel I should be doing it because everyone else in the office is doing it.

Because neither of the above is true. Also, I am not quite forty. I have struggled for some time just deciding what to say in this opening foray. This is all a little intimidating, like writing a diary that everyone (potentially) reads. I guess it becomes easier as you go along.

It seems a lot of blogs have a purpose, a message, a meaning.

Well, mine doesn't, yet…

It is not meant to be political, (but it might become so). It does not have an axe to grind, (currently). It is not just an online diary for everyone to see, (however it may be some of the time). It is not designed as a eulogy to the ecstasies of pet ownership, (although fish and cats may come up from time to time). Nor is it an examination of the psychology of blogging or the blogger, (interesting that I feel better for doing this though).

In summary this is a blog about nothing in particular for the moment (and maybe always, no promises). May not help you, but for some reason, after the initial struggle to get to here, it helped me.