Census tale

Talking with Youngest via Skype this morning. She recounted her experience with a Census official at her student dwelling.

FX: Knock knock. Front door of house shared by five Students is opened by Youngest, shivering in the cold. Outside is a Census Official.
CO: "Have you filled out your Census form yet? You have to you know, you can be fined if you don't."
Youngest: "Yes."
CO: "It's a criminal offence not to fill it in and return it you know."
Youngest: "Yes we filled it in. Yes we posted it."
CO: "Fines of up to a thousand pounds."
Youngest: "I know."
CO: "You have to do it properly you know, or you can be fined."
Youngest: "What?"
CO: "It's a criminal offence you know."
Youngest: "I know. We filled it in, we posted it."
CO: "Oh." Apparently having delivered the supposedly intimidating spiel, said Official was apparently quite crestfallen at having delivered it to someone who'd actually filled the wretched thing in. Door is firmly shut in said Officials face.

Mind you, she told us with a knowing smirk, she didn't actually tell him what answers they'd given. Tsk. Students, eh? No respect for overweening authority. I blame the parents.

A grand day out, photoessay style.

Drove over to the Surfer Enclave at Tofino with Youngest and Mrs S yesterday. I got some sand between my toes...... Pity about the rain.

Dropped by at a Surfers beach and watched all those athletic types getting wet in and out of the Pacific surf.  We stayed in the van.

There was supposed to be an Ursus americanus vancouveri in this picture, but Mrs S was on camera duty, the Bear did a runner as I slowed down, and she missed the shot.   Tsk.
Dropped by the Mars Bomber base at Sproat Lake. Those things are bloody massive. Unfortunately they close at weekends, so no guided tour. However, I got my pictures anyhow.

Saw one on the water, and another undergoing a refit in the yard.

Snow on the peaks overlooking Port Alberni.  Odd.  I thought with all this global warming we're supposed to be having that all the snow was supposed to be gone by now.

Ah well, this is what happens when you rely on dodgy statistical reports based on press releases and wishful thinking instead of measuring things properly.

On the way back, Mrs S took over the driving and the sun came out. We stopped off at Cathedral Grove to look at some very big trees and let the dog water a couple. He seemed spoilt for choice. Can't think why.

Back in time for a late tea after which Mrs S and I sat up to watch The Hurt Locker on DVD.  Elsewhere in Canada, people were rioting about globalisation and shouting at politicians hunkered down behind riot police and chain link fencing. My thoughts; Good, the miserable buggers weren't where we were.

Overall, a thoroughly pleasant and relaxing day. I'm having a lot of those at present.

Social success!

We have just seen our first of many house guests safely back home after an overnight visit and hearty breakfast. Verdicts are favourable, and praise for the hospitality at Chez Sticker effusive. Visitors book has been signed and smiles all round.

Drank far too much last night. Guests and I got quite smashed and a bit silly on a nice bottle of Syrah each, although I was far drunker than they were. That is strange. Used to be able to sling a bottle of wine down my throat without blinking. Although nowadays I don't drink for weeks on end. Maybe I'm just not used to the booze any more?

Pass the ibuprofen.

A grand day out parts one and two

Mrs S and I went for a day out in Vancouver yesterday and had a thoroughly nice time. Left the car in town and chose to walk and use Vancouvers public transit system instead. Minimal aggravation and maximum smile value. We went to see all the free stuff that a neighbour had told us about. Lots of standing in line, which no one seemed to mind, and apart from dodging the scalpers and avoiding a couple of protest groups, the day went swimmingly.

1. Ferry arriving at the ferry terminal
2. Another Ferry leaving Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal
3. Ferry steeplechase start line. The hydraulics for the pedestrian ramps failed, so we all had to exit off the lower car decks. Lining up for starters orders.....
4. And.... THEY'RE OFF! The bus queue steeplechase has started!
5. First stop in Vancouver was to be the Sochi 2014 display at the science world. On the way there past the back of the Casino was this display of flags.
6. From the back of the line, a view of Vancouvers science world and the Sochi 2014 bid display.
7. From later in the day, trainee masochists try out the zipline.
8. A ride on the Skytrain. CCTV and RCMP Police foot patrols onboard. I was impressed with the security. Good natured but enough to deter the anti-social.
9. A long view of the Olympic flame through security mesh. A pro Cannabis protest prevented us getting a better view.
10. No council jobsworth will tell them to take down this flag in a hurry.
11. Canada place.
12. Outside Vancouver Art Gallery and Museum queuing up to see the Da Vinci sketches exhibit.
13. North Vancouver from the bus on the way home.


A. Bus queues at Horseshoe bay
B. Rock Gods (Inukshuk, Inuit waymarkers) opposite the Olympic village.
C. Very long shot of Olympic Village from Science Centre Queue.
D. BC Place
E. See all the white tents at the back of BC Place? Security search facilities.
F. Old fashioned Vancouver trolleybus
G. 'Go Canada, Go' at the junction of Burrard St
H. Coast Salish carving centre outside Vancouver Art Gallery
I. Kids and parents posing in bobsled outside Vancouver Art Gallery
J. Canada place
K. Outside Vancouvers Fairmont Hotel
L. Me getting spookily interactive inside the Art gallery

All taken on a basic cameraphone. Note to self; get better camera and wear better walking boots next time round.

Great day out. Lots of freebies. Glorious sunshine all day. A truly grand day out.

All the way from Minnesota

From those very (and clever) funny guys over at Minnesostans for Global Warming. Great bowdlerisation of 'Baba O'Reilly' (or Teenage Wasteland) by the Who. One of my all time favourite Who tracks.

Now I normally don't like Rap, but.......

Intelligent stuff like this between competing economic ideologies is sooo good.


H/T The Last Ditch

and tonight's thrilling episode of.......

Herlock Soames and the case of the missing thermometers; Part 1

Now the story can be told in three (Two? Four?) not so chilling episodes.

Scene: A small set of ‘rooms’ not very far from Baker St, London, England. Present are Herlock Soames, investigative journalist and his friend (But only in the most platonic of senses), Hodson.

Soames; (Lighting highly illegal ‘herbal’ cigarillo and wafting the fragrant smoke into Hodson’s face) They’re missing, Hodson.
Hodson; What are?
Soames; (Cryptically) Thermometers Hodson, thermometers.
Hodson; No it isn’t, I can see ours from here, it says minus eight. I can’t wait for this global warming to kick in.
Soames; (Sighs heavily) I do not refer to our amusing combined barometer, clock and temperature gauge where the little man comes out, drops his trousers and farts the hours. I speak of the world wide temperature records upon which ‘the science of Global warming’ is based.
Hodson; Pardon?
Soames; Like you my dear Hodson, they are apparently missing something.
Hodson; Don’t be ridiculous Soames. Who would want to steal climate science?
Soames; Climate thieves, Hodson. Devilishly clever Climate thieves. Evil men without scruple.
Hodson; Soames, you‘re being more cryptic than usual. How can anyone steal the climate?
Soames; Not the climate Hodson, the temperature record.
Hodson; Why on earth would anyone steal temperature records Soames? I do wish you’d lay off the wacky baccy, it makes you too obtuse by far.
Soames; I speak of a villainous cabal led by my old arch enemy, Manniarty.
Hodson; (Shocked) Not old ‘ringer’ Manniarty?
Soames; The very same.
Hodson; Good God Soames, the fiendish sidekick of the wicked Prince of Yamal?
Soames; None other but the Pennsylvania hockey stick maniac.
Hodson; My God Soames! We must act!
Soames; I already am acting Hodson, do you think I speak like this in real life?
Hodson; Well I had wondered….
Soames; There is no time to waste Hodson! We must thwart their evil plans.
Hodson; But how? Manniarty has the whole of CRU and even worse, the BBC, behind him.
Soames; There is nothing else for it. We must find each missing thermometer in the climate record, Hodson. Every last single one.
Hodson; But, but, they deleted the source data, Soames. The original records are gone. Thousands upon thousands of temperature records through the shredder and deleted from hard drives. It’s an impossible task! Only a fool would even attempt it.
Soames; (Turns around swiftly) Am I a fool, Hodson?
Hodson; No, no, of course not Soames, and would you kindly take that ornate but razor sharp Malay disemboweling dagger away from the vicinity of my testicles please? It always makes me nervous when you do that.
Soames; Sorry Hodson, force of habit.
Hodson; (Nervous swallow) Thank you.
Soames; Hodson! We must away! The game’s afoot! Break out the sled dogs!
Hodson; We ate them last week. Don’t you remember? PETA said keeping dogs as pets was bad for our carbon footprint.
Soames; The fiends! No matter, I have a plan.
Hodson; This wouldn’t be a cunning plan would it?
Soames; Is there any other kind?
Hodson; (Sighs heavily) No, I suppose not.
Soames; We must catch these climate thieves by the most devious means available. Hodson, you must travel to East Anglia disguised as a snowman. There you will introduce yourself as a bosom friend of Al Gore and illicitly gain entry. Once inside you will find the secret data files, stuff them into the pockets sewn inside your snowman suit, and saunter out, whistling the theme from ‘the great escape’.
Hodson; (Wearily) So I have to wear the silly costume as usual.
Soames; Correct! Off you go.
(Exit Hodson carrying white snowman disguise)

Whatever will our two desperate heroes do next? Can you wait for the next scintillating episode? No? Do you care? No? Oh what the hell.

Oh FFS!

I do wish some people would learn to be a bit thicker skinned. Caught this over at 'Angry Exile' and thought it was hilarious and occasionally true. In my oft mis-spent youth I was fortunate enough to have had contact with said species, for which my better half (Ahem!) currently reaps the benefits.


There are even on line classes for 'Cougars'.




The two ladies I once knew needed no lessons.

Those who raise their hands in horror and call for the banning such amusing adverts really ought to get out more. It can be a lot of fun out there. Now I'm going for a lie down in a darkened room......

No pain

Have had a small epiphany. After yesterdays jaunt on a Kwak 650 trailie I think I've discovered the source of much minor inconvenience in my life. You know, the nagging little twinges that begin to plague you as you get past the forty mark. The occasional stiffness after sitting too long. Nothing major or worth consulting a Doctor about, but just part of the background noise of living.

Today that background noise is barely a whisper. A wraith of its former mildly frustrating general background presence. Something in my life has changed. A watershed, some kind of transcendence has occurred. Are the old injuries gone? Nope. Scar tissue still there from various knocks and scrapes obtained along the winding path of my life. I don't look very different, but, and this is the big but; there appears now an additional glint in the eyes. An ease and grace in movement. A sureness of step and purpose. The back straighter, taller and more confident. What is going on with me?

Only one thing has changed since yesterday; for the first time in several years I was back in the saddle, using my whole body to manoeuvre a KLR 650 along local roads and over rough ground. For a while there I felt a twinge of the old adrenalin rush I used to get from riding a sports tourer. Just a little, as the handling and performance of the KLR are mainly for off-road. There is only one diagnosis possible; my endorphin levels have had a significant boost.

What do I say next week when the immigration Doctor asks me "Are you addicted to anything?" If answering truly I would say I have a terminal addiction to Motorcycles. If so diagnosed, could I get a prescription for two hundred Kilometres a week to be taken at weekends? Say up to Campbell River and back, or maybe Port Alberni. They do it for drug addicts, and riding (to me at least it seems) is a drug, so maybe..... Gotta be worth a try.

Media horse shit

This side of the world I still don't watch TV because most of the programming is poor, and only the odd series piques my interest. Especially when the news tries to report on anything remotely scientific. Like the story where two tonnes of Ammonium Nitrate went missing. On both Global and CBC I was astonished to hear Ammonium Nitrate described as an 'explosive'.

What utter bollocks these ill educated media types spout. Ammonium Nitrate's primary use is as fertiliser, a nitrogen 'improver'. Only when mixed with the correct proportions of fuel oil does it become ANFO, a low grade explosive. ANFO based devices are more like the old fashioned 'sugar and weedkiller' mix. More an unstable compound than a proper 'explosive'.

FFS! Does no one in news 'reporting' do any fact checking any more? Lots of things can be made to go 'bang', but they're not definitively 'explosives'. Under the right conditions, even foodstuffs can detonate. Like the 'great custard explosion' at General foods in Banbury, Oxfordshire, UK in 1981 (I am not making this up) fine atmospheric corn flour dust built up at the plant making the excellent Birds Custard powder and 'flashed'. Apparently it blew out a section of wall and concrete floor at the plant.

Even when the RCMP reported that there was no missing fertiliser, just a clerical error, the anchor people still talked of 'possible terrorist threats' to the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver based on a non existent 'theft'. Talk about a non story. Must have been a really slow news day.

Stuff this, I'm off dirt biking this weekend. One of my neighbours is loaning me a Kawasaki 650 to play around on, and I'll dig out my old motorcycle jacket (With full body armour) in case of tumbles. I deserve some fun. Anything's better than watching vacuous crap on TV.

Seasonal Movie

Was talking to Mrs S via Skype, and we reminded ourselves of the Christmas themed Curtis RomCom 'Love actually' from which this little number comes. Yes, I know Maria Carey had a version, but I prefer this one, which is less irritatingly tinkly. My vote goes to this movie version sung by Olivia Olsen with the fabulous Ruby Turner on backing vocals, but this is the only Olivia Olsen version that allows embedding due to copyright issues.


The other interesting thing was finding the 'Billy Mack' version of 'Christmas is all around'. Full video only previously seen in one brief moment during the movie. WARNING! Sexism alert. Skimpily dressed Pole Dancers and Bill Nighy appearing to enjoy himself immensely. I was SOOO shocked I had to watch it again and again to milk it for the full seasonal moral outrage. Evil snigger.

Right. Off to another party.

..and for those who don't like Christmas all that much...

Achmed the Dead Terrorist sings carols. Well, sort of.



And a seasonal recipe for all you food lovers.

On a more cheerful note...

Christmas countdown begins with...Stop the Cavalry by Jona Lewie.


Also my favourite track of his 'In the kitchen at parties' which rather sums up my Christmases.


Off to a party. TTFN.

And you are getting what for Christmas.....?

Couldn't resist it. Loved the original, but this is so appropriate.

A little local entertainment

I do so love living in this part of the world. There are so many things to amuse, especially if you're a sarcastically minded old sod like me.

To enlarge; Canadian drivers are, at least here on the Island, not the most lean mean and keen I've ever come across. Especially at traffic lights. Even the boy racers have the response time of a lightly stunned slug. Reflexes which would see them roundly admonished by the horns of drivers behind in the more aggressive driving conditions of London or New York.

Oftentimes I, driving our lumbering old automatic transmissioned 1998 MPV which couldn't leave skidmarks on a pair of ancient underpants; find myself on pole position at the lights with some boy racer. You know the drill; spoilers, large engine, oversized exhaust, go faster stripes, the works. Yet my reflexes, conditioned by many years driving in the UK and Europe still appear about twice as fast as a local person half my age.

I know this comes under the heading of general male willy waving, but I still get a boost out of listening to all the antics, revving engine, false starts etc by the souped up Pontiac whatever, and still beating them away from the lights.

Last night Mrs S and I were on our way home and there was one such boy racer in his pride and joy sitting alongside us at the lights. We were in the outside lane having missed the previous light change. I'd observed his approach in my rear view and side mirrors moments before, as he surged forward and cut up a couple of other drivers like a NASCAR driver. Boy racer draws up alongside as the lights are on red, revving engine like he's Jensen Button or whoever, creeping forward onto the crosswalk and showing off his prowess to all those who could be bothered to watch. "Oh gawd, another one." Opined Mrs S.
"Yes dear." Quoth I, catching the hint.
Light flicks to green and I heave our Apatosaurine minivan into motion, smoothly accelerating up to the speed limit before checking my mirrors. Chummy is at least two hundred metres behind. Not wishing to rub matters in (hah!), I indicated right and pulled over to the nearside on the Parkway. Twenty seconds later, chummy has sped past us at about thirty klicks over the speed limit. "He'll never make it as a drag racer." Commented Mrs S.
"Oh I don't know." Replied I. "Something long and flowing with matching accessories might be just the thing." This timeworn witticism elicited a short bark of amusement from Mrs S.

We caught up with said boy racer at the next set of lights five kilometres on, just as the lights turned green. He was tailgating a pickup away from the lights, and didn't notice the laughter coming from the beat up old minivan that drew level with him before he could cut and swerve his way up the parkway, annoying other drivers as he went. We caught up with him again as he was waiting for a left hand turn off the Parkway, caught in a queue of vehicles at the Fifth Street / College Drive intersection. At no time had we exceeded the speed limit (Honest Officer), having driven steadily but briskly along the highway.

It's what passes for amusement in our daily round.

Bad taste betting

Rather amused with all these predictions of doom and how the world will 'end' in name your time period. Bearing this in mind I would like to propose the ultimate betting experience; the 'end of the world' sweepstake. Winner takes all.

To enlarge; what is proposed is to compile a list of all those wonderful apocalyptic predictions of doom and disaster, and put them in a definitive time frame so that people can track whatever bets they make. It's all very well whatever public figure making said prediction, but who is keeping track of them all? I think we should be told. The end of the world is an important event which I'm sure none of us would ever want to miss. The social event of the millennium? How could you want to be left out?

Imagine the embarrassment, nay the humiliation, of being caught out the day after. Find your local supermarket out of special offers? Turn up at the checkout only to be told; "World ended yesterday, didn't you know?" See? you'd have missed the opportunity of their promotional 'end of days' final reductions, and how stupid would you feel then, eh?

Enough prevarication; to the list itself. Top of the current list, subject to amendment is the British Prime Minister, Jonah Brown, with 50 days; or is that forty nine now? He's eight time zones away. I do so wish these doomsayers would be a bit more specific. You have to plan for these things. How can you have a decent end of the world party when everyone else has booked all the best caterers?

Any old road up. Here we go with a small sample of more half baked prognostications;

21st October 2011 (Begins Friday 21st May 2011, bring own sandwiches), Biblical.
21st December 2012 End of everything, Mayan (Ticket only. If wet, indoors).
Summer 2013 - ice free Arctic - Al Gore. (Snowsuit and snow shoes compulsory)
2014 - the whole world 'beyond repair' - World Wildlife Fund.
December 2017 - the whole world and everything all beyond repair - 100 months prediction
Summer 2019 - ice free Arctic - Pen Hadow.
Late 2029 - loss of Great Barrier Reef - marine scientist Charlie Veron.

Many thanks to the Angry Exile for highlighting some of the above mentioned dates.

A list of biblical apocalypse (or should that be apocalypses, does it rate a plural?), past and to come, can be found here.

Please leave additional predictions in the comments. Although climate change is the main focus here, giant comets, messiahs and other stuff are allowable under sweepstake rules. The guiding principal is that the prediction has to be apocalyptic. Game on.

Some people just dont get it

I see the soap dodgers are trying to shut down the UK's electricity supply again. Honestly, these protesters are thicker than a banquet of plank sandwiches. Guys, the whole climate change thing is bunkum. Look at the studies. All around you people are dropping carbon trading, the hockey stick is in matchsticks, the world is less stormy, and St Al is being mocked to his face over his specious claims of impending disaster. Carbon Dioxide is not the problem. Game over, case closed.

However, if you're a UK resident and you want to blame someone when your granny freezes to death because of rolling power cuts over the next few years, you may feel tempted to pay the organisations below a visit and explain unto them the error of their ways.

Climate Rush
Plane Stupid
Campaign Against Climate Change
350

No rough stuff now, that's what they want. Might I suggest you take a good lawyer with you instead, and sue all their sorry asses to perdition. Arf. Now what a class(y) action that would make.

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving day

Reasons to be cheerful;

1. Going out for a long lunch with old friends so will not be posting much today.

2. That splendid chap the Salted Slug has resurrected Nightjacks old blog, which can be found here.

3. It is Canadian Thanksgiving, and a public holiday.

That will do nicely.

Trolling for fun

Mostly the rule is, and should always be; ‘don’t feed the trolls’. They’re sad, lonely people who quite frankly deserve to be, but without the Internet access. However, you find the odd one who is just so much goshdarned fun to bait. There is one such. His, for I believe ‘tis a he, major selling point is that he’s overblown with his own pomposity. He takes it all so seriously, and comes across as a right Malvolio if ever I came across one. He is enough to bring the Feste out in anyone with even the lightest smattering of a sense of humour.

Now, I’m naming no names, but I used to meet people who exemplified this stereotype every working day, mainly in Management. People who just had to control everything and threw dolly out of the pram if everyone else didn’t do exactly what they wanted right now. In their tidy, obsessive compulsive little world, every even slightly dissenting voice must be hectored and browbeaten until it is silent. They cannot stand other people who voice contrary opinions, and have no joy of the moment. They cannot banter or make comment without being vicious, and every so-called witticism is barbed and envenomed with their own internal gall; although in real life they are more often than not complete Andrew Aguecheeks. Or for those of a Red Dwarfish bent; complete Arnold Judas Rimmers, without the ‘Ace’ at the end.

Ergo; every so often I go troll baiting, which so long as you don’t overdo it is rather like licking cane toads. You can get a bit of a high off it, but the wise will limit their activities in this area as it can get addictive, and eventually damaging. No doubt there are those who will accuse me of being foolish for antagonising such people because they’re a spiteful, vengeful bunch with few redeeming features, yet I would take this quotation of Feste’s from Twelfth Night in my defence;

“Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapalus? 'Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.'.”

Foolish? Moi? Often; but to reply to would-be detractors might I quote Feste from later in the same scene…….

“Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two pence that you are no fool.”

Good old Shakespeare. There was a Bill who knew the score.

As for the photo above, snapped that this afternoon in town. There's a deeper message there for anyone who cares to pay enough attention. For those who can't, well more fool you.

Blood and sand

Is there anything my damn dog won't eat? First apples, then Oranges. Today's surprise package was banana's. My dog likes bananas. You have to peel them for him first of course, but if you have a banana in your hand you are assured of his complete and rapt attention.

He'll sit there trying to look cute and looking sidelong at you with big, brown pleading eyes and his tail will twitch pathetically while his ears will be laid back against his head. His gaze will flick back and forth between you and the banana in a meaningful way until you relent and give him a piece. He'll cheerfully chomp on a carrot, and I've yet to try him with parsnips and broccoli, but it wouldn't surprise me if my mutt cheerfully tucked into those as well.

Could it really be that my dog is a closet vegetarian? Oh the shame, the shame.