venta

Heading home the other day I spotted someone doing... something outside the block of flats I live in.

Something that involved kneeling on the floor in the driveway. Which is odd.

Once I got up close I realised it was my neighbour David, doing a brass-rubbing of a manhole cover. Being an inquisitive sort, I asked him why.

It was, he said, an unusual and pleasingly-designed manhole cover and he quite fancied printing it on a t-shirt.

Now, this combines three of my favourite things. That is: (i) close observation of easily-missed everyday objects, (ii) batshit creative projects, and (iii) actually taking one's ideas from armchair to execution. So naturally I got down on the floor too, to examine his work.

It was, he explained, not going that well. He'd tried chalk, and he'd tried some weird-arsed squashy oil pastel affair that seemed about the consistency of tofu. Neither had been very successful.

"What I really need," he said "is a wax crayon."

Well, now. I was pretty sure I'd have a wax crayon. I'm not much of an artist, but I was a kid once and I am shocking at throwing out anything which might one day be useful. I scooted indoors to rummage in a cupboard.

Yup, in the first place I looked, there was a tobacco tin full of very battered-looking crayons. The mother always referred to them as "chubby stumps", which I really hope was a brand name.



Incidentally, what do kids from non-smoking households keep stuff in? How do they find anything? I had stacks and stacks of Gold Block tins, in which all kinds of bits and bobs (including wax crayons) were kept coralled. Anything too big for that (Lego, Matchbox cars, miscellaneous oddments) went into giant plastic catering tubs that once held margarine. I recently asked my parents why on earth they bought margarine in such epic quantities in the 70s. What the hell were they doing with the stuff? "That's just how it came," shrugged my dad. But I digress.

Anyway, I proffered my tin of crayons and David chose a black one, tested it out and agreed it was a vast improvement.

He felt the cover design was clearly t-shirt-worthy, and was planning to do some looking around online to see if anyone else had hit on the same idea.

"Don't Google 'manhole rubbing'," was my advice, which got me rather a funny look. Must remember that not everyone operates with their mind trundling along in the gutter the whole time.



Anyway, he gave me the experimental version done to test the creation, and unrolled a new section of paper. I left him happily rubbing the design out in black wax. I haven't seen him since to enquire how the shirtination went :)

Having mentioned this to a friend yesterday, she tells me that using street furniture for clothing is a thing now, and furnished me with an illustrative video on Facebook.

Playing with a new Christmas present...

C: OK Google, make me a sandwich.
Google declines, but offers to provide detailed instructions if we want.
Me: OK Google, sudo make me a sandwich.
Google: <spoingly magic noise> You are now a sandwich.

Best Easter egg so far :)

Once, long ago, I used to dye my hair regularly. My hair's long, so I only ever go for semi-permanent dye so I don't have to wait for it to grow out. I think I stopped having silly-coloured hair when I started going to business meetings as my CEO's technical advisor and wanted to do an impression of a grown-up professional.

( But that job is long gone... )

Anyway. My hair is now, um, black cherry apparently. As hair colours go it's not that silly - my hair's not very dark, but it's dark enough that semi-permanent dye is never going to have a huge impact. In a slightly dark pub last night, no one noticed my hair had changed colour (or at least, no one commented). I shall have to stand under lights if I want people to notice :-)

This has apparently been doing the rounds of soshul meeja, so you may already have seen it. Having been driven to despair by comments on various news stories today, I am delighted to note that the comments on this BBC Recipe are well worth reading.

Well, aren't you all lovely? Yesterday, I asked anyone who had the time, ability and inclination to measure their toilet seat for me. And although I was reasonably certain some of you would have the time and ability, I didn't really expect anyone to have the inclination. But several of you did.

Which means I now know an approximate average width for the hole in a toilet seat.

In centimetres, the width of reported toilet seats is:
21, 21.3, 21.5 22, 22, 22.5, 23, 23.2.
Plus ewx's confusingly chamfered[*] toilet seat which varies been 24cm and 22cm depending on where you measure it.

( Which confirms my theory! )

[*] I have no memory of having read or written the word "chamfered" before. I had to look up how to spell it. I expected more in the ph department, to be honest.

In respect of yesterday's poll: hurrah, you are all sensible people. And you have confirmed my belief that one of my colleagues, who unexpectedly proclaimed "what's the difference between a chicken?" (and then insisted that "duck" was insanity), is Just Wrong.

I just tried to sign into twitter. I got the following error message:

403 Forbidden: The server understood the request, but is refusing to fulfill it.

Now, that's an HTTP status code I've seen plenty of times before. I don't think, though, I've ever seen an error that made the server seem quite so petulant.

Coming up soon:

404 Not Found: If you don't know where you put it, the server doesn't see why it should have to tell you.

Today's question: if you wore a breathable waterproof jacket inside out, would it let the rain in?

No reason, I'm just curious. And I've never really understood how these superfunky hi-tech fabrics work.

Or do not work, in the case of my cheapo shell waterproof, which lets the rain in anyway. It's surprisingly hard to tell, but I'm moderately confident I'm wearing it right way out.

Otherly, this morning I misheard one of my colleagues talking about going diving in a twinset. Except it turns out I didn't mishear, he just meant something different by the term.

I'm sticking with my mental image. Though surely the obligatory string of sensible pearls would get in the way of the regulator?

From the BBC website:

Nick Leeson on City morality

Coming soon...

Pol Pot on humanitarian issues.

Reasons why you should not teach children science, part I.

Overheard at the weekend:

[Small child wishes to leave current location, which is outdoors.]

"Can we go now ? Please can we go ?"

[Parents do not respond.]
[Small child looks meaningfully at bright sun.]

"Do you want me to get cancer ?"