Closing Time

I am currently unable to find the time or, more accurately, the enthusiasm to continue Windy Cross. There's just too much going on right now and it's one more thing to think about on an ever-lengthening list.

If I ever find a group and start role-playing again, I'm sure I'll try to find the time to write a new log on those events. For the moment, however, Windy Cross is going to gather a thick layer of dust.

How Old Are You?

I've been camping so much these past few weeks that warm sheets and a comfortable pillow are starting to feel a little alien.

There's a strange thing with age. We measure it in years, but we already know that some people mature faster than others. Some people experience things earlier than others; for example, one person might not own a home or car for a very long time, while another person might have the responsibilities of such possessions much sooner.

I think that the prejudice generated by a person's age is similar to the prejudice that comes from a person's name. The image of a person called "Frederick" is very different from the image of a person called "Huwaidah". And so the image of an twenty-year-old person is different from that of a thirty-year-old person.

Prejudice rarely pays off. For example: I was twenty-one when I started my previous job, my co-worker was almost sixty. Our opinions differed as to what we would like to hear on the radio while working; I wanted to listen to Classic FM, while he wanted to listen to Garage music - probably the opposite of what you'd expect. He also had an all-singing, all-dancing mobile phone while mine still had a monochrome display.

Likewise, I've known some very mature teenagers and some incredibly childish adults.

High Price Paid

The walk to Snowdonia did not go well at all.

It took me all day to walk from Hastings to Pevensey, and by that time I could barely stand. The night was not so bad, and there had been a few entertaining events during the day; but come morning I was unwilling to go on if I could not get any lifts.

What a shame that motorists appear to be unanimously ignoring hitch hikers now. Every vehicle that was going my way was populated with a driver determined not to see me and my desperately up-turned thumb.

My shoulders, feet, back, and knees protested with every step home, and in the end I had to call in a favour from a friend so that I would be spared the ten-mile trudge.

However, since I was not in Wales this weekend, I was able to go to the re-enactment at Battle (most of my blisters had gone down by Friday). We were not there to commemorate the battle of Hastings, 1066, but there were plenty of references made to it during the course of the day.

There was a lot more living history camp-life than is usually found at a Vikings re-enactment (we were Normans for the most part), and the battle re-enactments that we did do were light-hearted to say the least. It was fun, if exhausting.

What exhausted me was training with the might warrior Cornelius. He is renown in the group for being a terrific fighter; he knows all the tricks and has the strength of arm to utilise every single one. I picked up a lot of pointers, but had to be drowned in cold water afterwards to help stave off dehydration. I have more than a couple of bruises to show for it.

Since the fighting had put him in such a jovial mood, Cornelius made a visit to our camp and told us about a wargame he attended in Denmark. This was the kind of re-enactment that the public are not invited to - there is no show fighting. There were some three-hundred re-enacters taking part, and the stories that Cornelius was coming up with impressed us all to a man. It seems they really know how to re-enact on the continent.

Colombus

The time draws near for two important journeys that I will be undertaking.

The first is my practical driving test, which is tomorrow. Okay so it's not really that special, but passing it will open a new avenue for me and save me paying through the nose for lessons every week. I'm pretty confident that I will avoid enough minor faults or any major faults that would cause me to fail. Still, time will tell. I'm not way near as confident in a car as I was on a bike when I took my practical bike test.

The other, more interesting journey, is my trek into the unknown (unknown by me at least) which should commence on the following day. I have everything I need save a windproof lighter. I am still trying different ways of packing my gear to find the most efficient and comfortable configuration of equipment, clothing, and trappings. I have my fingers crossed that the weather, and any motorists I might ask lifts from, will be merciful.

It may well be that I get as far as the South Downs and turn out to be fed up enough to turn back home. A freak storm could rise up and drench me, or I could break something vitally important to my camp, get "moved on" by a fussy landowner, or even ever more fond of a warm and comfortable weekend indoors where I am not bothered by spiders and raindrops.

My first concern is food and water. I don't want to be carrying a week's supply of baked beans with me, so I'll have to think hard about what provisions I purchase tomorrow in preparation for the road ahead. I'm going to have to visit shops on the way, even if I get lifts. I have a cunning plan to keep my money safe and accessible.

I picked up a couple of disposable cameras today, so there should be no excuse for not bringing back images to share. I'll try and get some writing done out there too, and I purchased a trio of novels to keep my mind alight on rainy days and sleepless nights... although I'm now wondering which one/s to take with me and which title/s to preserve for a night in when I return.

If I fail to reach my intended destination, it will not be a massive shame. The target for this journey is Snowdonia, or at least the Brecon Beacons; but those are only physical landmarks. If I find something else, if I learn something new or contrary to what I previously held true, it will still have been an expedition of discovery. After all, Columbus never found China.

Jammed Up

Paid Nick a visit the other day.

Nick's brother, Kit, offered to make me a jam sandwich.

He laid the jam on thick. So thick that the sugariness almost stung going down.

I coughed while swallowing the ultra-heavy filling.

Got a feeling like a blocked nose. Distant, dull pain around my left eye.

Had to retire to the bathroom to blow my nose.

Nothing came out.

Blew harder.

Nothing came out.

Blew harder still.

Small tube of jam comes out.

Kit is bewildered, perplexed.

Nick is horrified, disgusted.

Nick says "you've got some fucked up sinuses right there."

"I thought my nose felt jammed-up." I say.

Nick dismisses me as less-than-human.

Why do people hate puns?

Them!

I had planned on heading to the supermarket after work today since my cupboards are starting to look bare.

On the way I noticed that the air was full of seeds floating on the breeze. Then I noticed that they were moving contrary to any sort of air-flow, and... I realised, just as one of those "seeds" landed on my visor, that there was a cloud of flying ants descending on the town.

I got the hell out of Dodge, of course; food shopping can wait. I have no intention of getting ants in my helmet, or anywhere else for that matter.

In more important news, my new job is turning out to be just like my previous occupation.

The Sequel... in SPAAACE!

I would not be surprised if Mass Effect 2 was awarded Game of the Year. I might be disappointed if it does not.

It improves on the original title in so many, many ways. The story, the characters, the environments, the missions, the depth, the combat, the equipment, the consequences... it's all so much better.

I found the Insanity difficulty mode to be a little too difficult on my second play-through. I missed being able to have my Vanguard Sherpard falcon punch mercenaries into orbit.

The friendly AI is sometimes a little slow, but I hardly noticed it. I could go on and on endorsing Mass Effect 2, but I'm sure there are better things to do.

I read that Bioware wants to turn Dragon Age 2 into Mass Effect not in space. I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Mass Effect was a big step forward from the likes of KotOR*, and Dragon Age: Origins was a big step forward from Mass Effect. Mass Effect is a big step forward from Dragon Age: Origins. Making Dragon Age 2 a side-step would just halt the ball that Bioware's got rolling right now. Time will tell I suppose.

*Itself a big step forwards from Neverwinter Nights which was locked in what I would term "translation issues" from tabletop to desktop. Another topic for another time perhaps.

Test Camp

I spent the weekend practising camping.

It wasn't too far from civilisation; a wooded communal garden on the outskirts of town. It was quiet and removed, there was plenty of firewood, but it also featured a series of limitations (no emergency food/water sources, nowhere to put rubbish or food, no lights to illuminate the terrain at night, etc.) that made the isolation feel more genuine.

It went well enough, and certainly taught me a few important things. Far better to learn them now than to overlook them later.

• Triple check you have everything you need
• Bring back-up tools in case the equipment you are using isn't up to the task
• Don't bring any more trappings than you need
• String is invaluable
• You are going to need more firewood than you think... a lot more
• Small fires are better than big fires
• Bring something like a thick cloth to handle hot metal

There were some other things, but they're too inconsequential to mention. One thing I must mull over is the most efficient way to pack my gear; my backpack was almost full to the brim and there was still some kit that I left behind.

It was good fun though, if tiring thanks to the inescapable roots under the tent. I'll have to look for more opportunities to do this before I start doing it seriously.

Grazed Knees

I saw a child fall over head first onto the tarmac today.

He was wailing and crying even as his father picked him up and carried him off. There was no blood, but the way the kid was crying you would have thought someone cut his arm off.

I remember crying like that when I was that age. It just got me wondering about the threshold for breaking out into tears about that sort of thing. At what age do you just grit your teeth and pick yourself up?

Summer Plan

I've been sitting and wishing for too long. It's time for me to fulfill my own wishes.

I've wanted to go for a long, long, long walk, an adventure of sorts, since I was very young. Tales of brave adventurers facing the untamed wilderness; with only their backpack, sword, and handful of gold pieces, were ingredients to the hot pot of my imagination when I was growing up. I wanted to try it, I wanted to have an adventure.

I was too young, of course, and didn't have a chance of surviving out on the road (orcs and roadside bandits or no orcs and roadside bandits). I've had the chance to do it for some time now. Working in schools means I still get the summer holidays to myself, give or take a few days. I haven't really used the opportunity except for last year when I rode up to Yorkshire; but that was only for one week.

The plan for this summer is to get my practical driving test out of the way (early August) and then hike my way to Snowdonia, north Wales.

This might be a foolish pull of the romantic imagination, it might be one of the wettest parts of England, and it might be tough to find a route that isn't alongside A-road traffic day and night, but for once I'm going to just throw caution to the wind and try it. I make too many excuses, and build too many safety nets to stop myself from doing things like this.

I'm going to plan, prepare, and prime myself. Perhaps I'll take some stationary and a disposable camera along with the rest of my gear.

Pre-Play

Finally!

Since I got Mass Effect 2 recently, I thought that I should play through the Mass Effect since you can carry your saved game over into the sequel.

But it took twenty-six hours to get through it, and even then I haven't accomplished everything I managed on the first play-through because I've been chomping at the bit to just get on with it and play ME2!

Why is it that you only recognise the flaws in Shepard's face after character-creation?

Climbing Mountains

If your life, or any part of it, could be thought of as a journey over rugged, mountainous terrain, how would you address the mountains before you?

The fastest and most direct route is to walk between the mountains, along the valley floor. However, you do not always have much choice in which direction you walk since you have to follow the winding bends of the lowlands.

If you put that extra effort into your journey, dare to go against the grain, and climb, you can go anywhere you want. When you reach the summit will you ask yourself why you wasted all that time and energy to get there, or will you marvel at the view and ask yourself why you didn't start climbing earlier?

But as a friend of mine added to this idea, you cannot climb a mountain simply because it is a mountain. Choose your mountain he said.

Reluctant Chatterbox

I like conversation, I really do. So it's unfortunate that I often alienate myself rather than seek out others to converse with.

I have had a habit of staying too long when invited to visit friends for an evening. I've been trying to fix that, trying to leave before anyone starts looking at the clock or yawning because it's getting late. I like discussion and find myself engaged in it so rarely that I cling on to any opportunity for it.

I had a long afternoon of naught but an exchange of words with Nick the other day. Sometimes when talking with friends you will find dead zones in which no one will have anything to say. When neither of you stall or draw a blank, it's like having a car that never runs out of petrol.

I also had a debate with a colleague earlier in the week about quantum physics, but I think his source material needs reviewing.

Do you find that the later in the evening it gets, the more and more esoteric the conversation becomes?

Why so impressionable?

Last night I watched Into the Wild. It really is a fantastic story; I haven't read the book but I enjoyed the film thoroughly.

It really got to me, especially since it is based on a true story. I would recommend it to almost anybody.

I have to watch myself with films like this. They threaten to inspire me, encouraging me to do foolish things that I would otherwise only consider in idle fancy.

Clipping Wings

Well I finally made my instructor swear. And grab the wheel. Three times in one lesson.

It's space, or perhaps spacial awareness. I am used to riding a motorcycle which takes up perhaps a fifth of the road that a car requires.

I hit someone's wing mirror, a hedge, and almost hit a bollard. I managed to get into the wrong lane on what I've always called "The Polegate Roundabout", even though it's never a problem when I take it on my bike.

In fact, there were a lot of things I did wrong that I would have done just fine on my bike. I think that when you have to think about the operation of your vehicle, as well as the road ahead (positioning, other traffic, hazards, etc.) things become that little bit more complicated.

At least I haven't hit another car (except for that wing mirror) or changed gear into reverse instead of fourth.

I do think that there are a couple of factors that apply to driving lessons that are absent from normal driving. For a start, you're always supposed to plan your route before travelling; but your instructor is the one who knows where you're going when you're participating in a driving lesson. It is also not that common, unless you commute to London or something, to drive for two hours straight; that really knackers my concentration as most of my hiccups happen in the latter half of the lesson.

I'm almost there though, I just need to figure out a way of doing things in a more relaxed manner. It's not easy when you have an impatient four-by-four driving up your rear end though. I passed my theory test, so I just have to think about booking my practical now.

Running Man

When you were younger, and perhaps even now if you are ever a passenger, did you ever imagine a character running alongside your vehicle on long journeys by car or maybe even train? I did. I imagined a nameless speedster or a cartoony figure racing alongside the car as we cruised the motorway or wide open A-roads. I'm sure I'm not alone in that fantasy.

So I am currently reliving that childhood daydream in Prototype. One of the most fundamental abilities of your avatar, Alex Mercer, is an incredible sprinting speed. You can also jump, glide, turn your hands into living weapons, and eat people, not to mention run up, down, and around buildings, but the running is what captured me.

So now, in the game at least, I am the sprinting figure that races alongside the car.

I completed FarCry 2. It is a very enjoyable game, but I feel that the ending let the whole experience down. It also succumbs to an unfortunately common malady of a surprising number of sandbox games in that you are not permitted to continue freely roaming the game world after the main storyline is completed! Shame.

The Exact Opposite

The other evening I was invited to see the operetta "Die Fledermaus", which I did. It was the first time I'd ever seen an operetta, so I suppose it will set my level of expectation for any I see in the future. But that is not the subject of this post.

I was invited by Nick's mum, since she was part of the performance. She often introduces me as "number one and a half son" and likes to take the role of surrogate mother. Fair enough. She also suggested that, since I'd attended the event, that I should also catch the after-show party at her house to meet the entire cast.

I'm not much of a social machine, so I stuck to the sidelines during the party and just chatted with Nick for most of the evening.

We had just finished speaking about how people act according to what is expected of them instead of how they would naturally act. I had said that I have a strong disliking for the way men are expected to start acting like sex-mad idiots at the first sign of overt femininity. If I remember correctly, my words were along the lines of:

"I hate the idea that every male has to start drooling whenever they see an even slightly attractive woman. And because of the way I feel about it, I can be sensitive to the idea of being regarded as that sort obsessed maniac. I always try my hardest not to be seen as that sort of guy."

It was then that Nick's mum walked in to introduce us to the leading actress in Die Fledermaus. First she introduced Nick, "number one son"; then me "number one-and-a-half son who came and saw the operetta last night". I was about to say hello when the introduction was punctuated with "so he was sitting in the aisles drooling over you last night. I sold him on the account that you'd be wearing thigh-high boots and a catsuit..."

I think my face probably froze at that very moment. I'm sure Nick's mum thought it was just a joke, but it felt a little more like a kick in the 'nads to me. Especially thanks to the timing of the whole thing.

Last Minute Expense

Considering that I might have to get rid of my Versys in order to afford a more practical vehicle (read: "a car"), it's damned cruel for the bike to have an expensive problem right now.

One and a half months out of warranty and the exhaust has blown. The seal is rotten, rusted like the underside of a sunken ship, and riding it invokes a sound like loose gravel rattling around a tin can.

The bike is booked into the garage for Thursday morning, but considering that my new job requires me to get from site a to site b in a timely manner, this could have come at a better time.

And I thought the fire in the underground carpark was bad.

Server Farm

You know that old Hollywood sterotype of the computer geek who doesn't say much and seems awkward in conversation, rarely goes outside, lives underground, and listens to the deafening hum of a server farm all day? I think I found a brood of them.

This week I was given a tour of the server farm at the main offices. It's just what you would expect. Very cold, very noisy, and very short on space. There are server racks that stand as tall as the ceiling, bundles of cables lying across the floor, blinking lights, and fuzzy-looking monitors that can be used to remotely access any of the servers in the room.

I don't have access to the servers, as there is not going to be any reason for me to physically visit them, and at the moment there is no reason to visit them remotely either.

Some of the server guys down there were, unfortunately, just how you'd imagine them. Bearded, stand-offish, and more than a little reserved. One of my colleagues said that he has tried, several times, to wander down to their offices and spark up a conversation, only to be chased away each time.

I still haven't seen any polyhedral dice yet, which is a shame because I was hoping to find some new players and be able to jump into a tabletop RPG again. Maybe I should put a poster up "ADVENTURERS WANTED" or something.

World Without Men

And I thought the men/women ratio was one-sided at my previous job.

The team back at base, and the other technicians on the road, are mostly guys. Despite attempts to make us think that everyone is equally capable of every job, there are still differences in the way men and women think and variations in what they like. Rational generalisation is not a crime. So I expected the ICT team to be made up mostly of men, and the primary schools to be staffed mostly with women.

The truth did not contradict my prediction, but I wasn't prepared for one school that does not appear to have a single male member of staff anywhere to be seen. I don't think that they even have a part-time male caretaker or handyman. There are no y chromosomes.

Most of the schools I visit in my new job have at least one or two complimentary male members of staff, but this infants' school has no source of testosterone present what-so-ever. So you might think so what, what's the big deal?

It's the toilet. There is only one and... it's like... I... how can I describe it? It's like I am forced to use the womens' toilet when I go there, but only because there is no mens' toilet. Just one staff toilet that is normally used solely by women. There are scented oils and hand lotions in there, there is a wicker basket of potpourri sitting on the cistern, and what appears to be an emergency hairbrush propped up against the gilded mirror. There is also a bin specifically for sanitary towels.

They never said I would be this far behind enemy lines. Still, I doubt I will ever find the seat left up, the toilet un-flushed, or urine stains on the floor. I just hope that the amazons don't think I'm marking my territory every time I go in there.

Civilisation Sucks

Although I will admit that the effects are somewhat lessened since my previous mention of it, the withdrawal symptoms from Corfe Castle are still evident.

I suppose one way to summarise it would be that more things seem less fulfilling now. Or rather, their shallow nature is more easily perceived. Perhaps that is a little dramatic, but at the moment that is how it feels. I can only liken it to the sensation experienced after watching a particularly good action film, then returning to the same bland safety-net-riddled routine. You feel energised and inspired, but simultaneously impotent as there is nothing to fuel with your vigour and determination.

I have also been playing far too much Dwarf Fortress. It can get very addictive, and certainly proves that powerful gameplay can far outweight graphical splendour in a game's attraction.

I am thinking of trying a Dwarftopia challenge.

Familiarise

There is still no hot water.

I am having a lot of trouble re-adjusting back to "muggle" life after the long weekend at Corfe. When I'm supposed to be taking notes on the specification of a printer, or the problems plaguing a computer, or the number of free ports on a hub; I'm really thinking about combat techniques, the smell of woodsmoke that still haunts my coat, the noise of the 21st Century compared to the relative calm of life hundreds of years ago, and how damned comfortable that tunic was compared to a collared shirt.

So, my mind has not been present for most of this week. The lack of hot water means that I've been having trouble keeping hygenic. Washing cutlery and crockery to eat with/from has also been difficult.

Next week I start taking on some of the schools that I'll be providing ICT support for. I'll be all on my own, but the guys on the phone desks are just a quick call away and they've said that they're there to help me as much as they are there to help staff in schools.

I broke someone else's USB hard drive today. I dropped it and it didn't bounce. Hopefully that's the last sabotaging I'll do in this role. Those hard drives have some very impressive software on them, and it's going to be that much more difficult for the other guy to do his job now I've destroyed his number one gadget. The school I was at today, which is going to be the school I see the most every week by the looks of it, has also descended into laptop hell. I think the laptop/desktop ratio is something like 20:1. There are laptops everywhere, and they are, of course, all failing at once. I've got half a dozen parked in the server room right now, and I'm trying my hardest not to have to think about going back to them on Monday morning.

Corfe Castle 2010

Corfe Castle was brilliant.

I'm not sure where I should start. The weather was not perfect, but we survived, and there was plenty of sun for the battles. The castle itself was very impressive, and I marvelled several times at how the tallest walls were still standing in defiance despite all that has happened to the site over the years. Everyone was super-friendly, and we all got on really well.

There was singing around the campfires at night, delicious meals by the campfires during the day, one evening featured the hand-fasting of two members of the Caent group, there was a guy who had a pet raven (called Muninn of course) and a pet wolf-dog.

There was the king, an abbess, a slave trader (who decided I would be a fine addition to his stock one afternoon), a leather worker, a carver, and dozens more craftspeople, not to mention the warriors dressed in chainmail, helms, and swords.

One day I was brought before the king to be judged for stealing a pair of hens (I was sentenced to have my hand cut off), and another day I was one of the men-at-arms dragging a chicken thief before the king.

The battles were exciting, as were the Circles of Honour and Circles of Treachery. I have plenty of bruises, but you don't notice them while you're enjoying yourself so much.

Despite it being such a great event, I admit that I was looking forward to a warm shower, and to lie down in my own bed. Unfortunately it seems that the hot water has gone bust again, so all my showers thus far have been incredibly cold.

Induction

Today was the first day at my new job in Lewes.

It's thirty miles away, which is kind of harrowing, but the job does not require me to be in the office all the time. I'm providing ICT support for local schools that have bought into one of the organisation's service packages, so there furthest I might be travelling when "on a job" might be the other side of Battle, which isn't even ten miles from home.

There is a lot of reading to do, and a lot of common sense questionnaires to complete, before I can actually knuckle down to get some work done. I wouldn't mind so much, but most of it is stuff that will not affect the way I do my job. Still, I only have to go through it once.

It took all day to get network credentials though, so I was just twiddling my thumbs for most of the morning and afternoon. Apparently that process is one they are looking to restructure with some kind of new business initiative; I can see why.

I do get some gadgets as part of working in the place though. I've already been issued with a laptop, a PDA, and a desktop (even though I'll hardly be at a desk), as well as a keycard to get into certain parts of the main buildings. No secret underground server room keys yet though, but there is still time for that.

I have also been working on my kit for the Vikings. We're at Corfe Castle this coming bank holiday weekend, and I need to get my gear right as it is going to be the first public event I will be attend as a re-enacter. The only thing I have left to do is hide the fact that my cricket gloves are cricket gloves by wrapping them in leather. Not as easy as it sounds, and it's a fairly time-consuming process.

I'm really looking forward to it, but I know that I'm going to be absolutely dog tired come Tuesday morning.

And finally, Dwarf Fortress is awesome.

Gray Death

For today and tomorrow I am a free man. Technically I am unemployed over the weekend and I am literally "between jobs".

There were many nice things said to me on my last day, and some people even claimed that they were holding back tears at my leaving speech. Like I've said before, the staff are very nice. The fact that it is a small school means that the people know each other and it's a very friendly atmosphere.

I am hardly surprised, but my co-worker John was very reserved about saying goodbye. With him it felt more like the end of any other day.

My leaving gift seems to have been a stomach bug or something though because I've woken up this morning feeling like I have a few pounds of raw sewage sloshing around my guts. Maybe it's like that administrator guy in Deus Ex who is afraid to resign because all of his predecessors came down the the Gray Death and died. Maybe they think I somehow penetrated the facade of pleasantness and discovered the grim truth behind Robertsbridge.

Well I didn't. At least, I don't think I did. So can you stop this killswitch please?

In other news, I've started to play Dwarf Fortress. It's pretty cool, although as you would expect - it takes a while to learn to play.

Levitate

This is my last week at the school before I start my new job, and I am rushed off my feet.

It's almost as if everyone had a ton of jobs that needed doing, but they never mentioned it. Now that I'm leaving, they're suddenly remembering. My co-worker's PC very conveniently crashed into Oblivion this morning too, so he is doing absolutely nothing to help lighten the load. Oh well, once I've gone he'll be absolutely inundated, and perhaps value my contribution a little more.

One thing I will definitely miss is the school dinners. They're not expensive at all for what you get. It's something like two quid for a cooked meal with a pudding. The menu is very nice, and changes often. One day you'll be getting spaghetti bolognaise, the next chicken in black bean sauce, then sweet and sour pork, or beef lasagne, or fish. There are always pasta dishes, jacket potatoes, and sandwiches on offer, and a variety of vegetarian dishes too. Today was cottage pie and the pudding was pancakes with black forest fruit syrup. That's the sort of thing I'll be fantasising about while eating soggy tuna salad sandwiches in my new occupation. Ah well, you can't have everything.

The first Vikings event of the year, at Corfe Castle this May bank holiday weekend, is looking to be incredibly expensive. The train fare is something like seventy-five pounds for a return ticket. That's a lot of money! It would, of course, be cheaper to ride my bike out there, but it's a good one-hundred-and-fifty miles to get out there.

If I take the train on Friday after work, I won't arrive until almost midnight (consider, also, that there is no train to Corfe Castle, and I have to either get a taxi from the nearest station or hike four miles to the camp site). If I take the morning train, I won't get there until almost midday. So one option leaves it too dark to pitch a tent, and the other means I'd arrive half way through the day with the public already there and events under-way without me.

Nick may not be able to afford the journey at all, so if I could well be going on my own. That would be a massive shame because it's the first event of the year and would be our first event ever. Still, he has to be sensible and watch his money. Massive shame though.

That's not to say that there won't be other events throughout the year. In fact, I should think we'll all be spoiled for choice later on when the weather starts to get really nice. Of course, I'm already looking forward to the Battle of Hastings. That one will be no problem to get to.

Onward

On my most recent driving lesson, my instructor didn't touch the wheel once. I was in the driving seat the whole time and took the car out to Little Common and back. He's more confident in my than I am, and it all went smoothly apart from one or two hiccups. I think I just lack finesse. I am not looking forwards to paralell parking.

In other news, yesterday was my first day back at The Vikings after missing two meetings. As a result, my back and arms ache this morning as though I've been taking the place of a shire horse in front of a plough all week.

The event at Corfe Castle is not far away now. It takes place during the bank holiday weekend in May. I'm excited, but also a tiny bit nervous. Apparently there is no train to Corfe, and I doubt there is any room in anyone else's transport to get there. The train does go to a nearby town, and from there one can order a fairly expensive taxi.

Other members of the group keep suggesting making additions or changes to my kit, but how I'm supposed to do that between then and now might be a little difficult. I suppose I'll skip combat training during the next Viking meet-up, and focus on making sure my gear will pass a kit inspection instead.

Lost in Translation

I had my first driving lesson this morning. It was not as simple as I thought it would be.

Being in a car is not what I had expected. It was almost claustrophobic, and there was definitely a sense of being in a large machine capable of taking you wherever it wanted if you missed a pedal or didn't operate the controls properly.

I tried my best to translate what I know from riding a bike to the car, but it wasn't quite as simple as that. There is a lot more travel in, for example, the clutch, and finding the right point for all the damned pedals was enough to concentrate on. Thankfully, my instructor was quite patient.

Once I was moving, everything was fine. It was the starting and the stopping and the slowing down that caught me out. On a bike, everything is second nature and I don't have to give a moment's thought to changing gear or taking a corner because I can do it all without thinking.

I have another lesson tomorrow. I'm pleased with the little progress I made today, and I think that sleeping on it will help, as it always does.

What I'll Miss

If asked, I would say that I have no regrets about leaving my current job. The new job pays more, for less hours, with virtually the same amount of holiday, includes a good amount of training, and will likely stretch my abilities more than what I'm doing now.

However, the staff dinner tonight reminded me of the few things that I will miss. There aren't many, but they can be reassuring and comforting to think about. The staff might occasionally get caught up in politics and gossip, or bad habits and immaturity, but I'm coming to think that all I'm seeing there is human nature.

Tonight, away from work, without any sort of time constraint or ambient thoughts of duty, the conversation renewed my thoughts on how the people I have been working with for the last three years are a good bunch. People will occasionally have their differences, but overall the staff are nice and well-meaning, and I don't think there is anybody I don't get along with.

It's always nice to know that your work is valued, so I must have been smiling all evening as people told me they didn't want me to leave for another job. What I will miss about Robertsbridge is my colleagues.

I'm sure I will be asked to stay in touch, which I won't argue with, but who knows how easy that will be with my new occupation? I wonder if there will be the same friendliness where I'm going now? Either way, I've made my choice, and I'm not having second thoughts.

Jesus Saves Scooters

Well, I've definitely got the local support technician job at 'County. All I have to do now is sort out my notice, which is a little complicated, and that's that.

However, something happened this evening that almost made my head explode. I was walking home from a friend's house when I saw that about a mile or so of the seafront had been closed off by the police and fire departments. That area of the seafront is home to the underground carpark where I stow my Versys away for the night.

As I got closer, I saw that the underground carpark had been cordoned off. I spoke to a police officer who informed me that there had been a fire in the carpark. After speaking to several members of the emergency services, I gleaned that the fire had started somewhere near the middle (my bike is almost in the centre of the carpark) and that the fire had effected several cars and motorcycles.

Considering that my new job will require me to provide my own transport to get around the 'County to the sites I'll be supporting, this struck me as a potentially severe problem for me.

I waited around to get some more specifics. I was joined by a fellow resident who parks her scooter in the same shared bay as I do.

It turns out that she "had a feeling" she should park her scooter on the street rather than in the carpark that evening, and her bike escaped the flames entirely. She attributed this divination to Jesus, saying that she had probably heard him trying to help her.

It seems so easy to credit things like that to benevolent entities that one wants to believe in. I didn't argue against what she said, but eventually she asked if I was a believer. I said I wasn't, which probably only strengthened her idea of a scooter-saving messiah providing her with some sort of premonition that spared her ride from an underground inferno.

My bike, as it turns out, was untouched by the flames. I was very relieved to hear that, as you can probably imagine. Apparently it is covered in soot, and will need some kind of specialist cleaning, but I'm not sure what my next course of action is from here. The carpark will be closed for another twenty-four hours to cool down, and then at least some of the cars down there will be towed out so that repairs can be carried out on the concrete down there.

Never a dull moment, it seems.

START again

This is good news. Russia and the US meeting to talk about a new START treaty.

Just look at the graph that accompanies the news article and ask yourself if any country in the world needs over two thousand nuclear weapons.

START treaties, however, always make me wonder if the administration included nuclear weapons launched by massively powerful rail-guns mounted on bipedal tanks.

Dead Again: Origins

It was going to happen sooner or later. I got around to playing Dragon Age: Origins. It was on offer on Steam last week, so I thought "what the hell" since it's that or Oblivion if I want to play an RPG any time soon.

It's not quite what I expected, in both good and bad ways.

It plays a little more like an MMORPG than I expected, but at the same time there are glorious moments when you're reminded that it's just you and the NPCs out there, and that there is plenty of room for the sort of events and immersion that you only really get from single-player games.

One problem I've had with some fantasy RPGs (e.g. Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights) is the needless ham that is injected to make the world appear to be medieval Europe with magic in it. Dragon Age mercifully disposes of such ideas and replaces it with more believable moods and flavours.

You could describe the atmosphere as a sort of "Lord of the Rings grown up". There is a fallen dwarven kingdom digging around where they shouldn't, but they're tied up with a rigid caste system, petty politics, and the constant threat of invasion. Elves used to be the immortal superbeings that you might recognise from Tolkien's fantasy, but thanks to being assimilated by mankind, they've lost much of their culture and traditions. The storyline is fine, so far, even if people seem to suddenly explode into showers of blood every now and then (okay, so it only happened once), or rely entirely on outsiders for aid. I'd appreciate more dialogue with my party members, but I guess you can't have everything.

There is something, however, about some of the game play which has vexed me. It's bloody difficult.

I've looked online and there seems to be a fair number of people remarking on how hard the game is. The response from other players is often "lol u suck" or words to that effect, but despite gratuitous use of the "tactical pause" function, I still have a great deal of difficulty with the game. Some enemies are just so tough, and have attacks so powerful, that I simply sidestep them when possible and think about combating them some other time. There is a problem, however, when such an opponent needs to be dispatched if you are to progress with the game (I'm looking at you, brood mother).

While I don't think the game should be a cakewalk, there are enough skills, abilities, and spells that you can form a pretty diverse party. The game becomes nightmarishly difficult, however, if you don't pick a party with specific abilities and powers to get you through certain areas. Suffice to say, there are party members who can be seen as essential while all the others are merely decoration or flavour.

Bioware's previous RPG, Mass Effect, allowed you to barrel through the game with whatever team you wanted to compile at the time. Admittedly, the game was a little too easy for most people, but Dragon Age seems to have swung too far in the opposite direction.

I'm still playing it though, so I haven't rage-quitted just yet. I'm sure the game will be easier the second time I play it, but I don't think a player should have to go through hell and die several times just to know how to plan his next move.

Simplistic

Sometimes I think I would prefer it if life was a little more simple.

Although my hot water is back, the cold water has now stopped. Apparently there is a leak somewhere and it cannot be fixed until tomorrow. I tried to have a shower this morning but was scalded so much by the hot water that I will have to remain smelly for work tomorrow.

I found out that my bike licence does count as a provisional license for learning to drive a car. That's very good news as provisional licenses are fairly expensive. I'm still not sure when to start lessons, though. I want to get them underway as quickly as possible, but they're costly and my bike desperately needs its next service. That service is going to include a new chain and sprocket which is something like eighty quid on its own.

I also found a huge mould colony behind my wardrobe yesterday. If I could keep my flat warm, there wouldn't be so much condensation; but the radiators don't work and I can't afford to leave a dozen halogen heaters on all day while I'm at work.

The new financial year's council tax bill came through as well. If ever I didn't need another money sink, it was now.

In other news, my application for the new job is going pretty well. I'm just waiting for documents to be signed and sent off by other people and such. The sooner I can get a better wage packet the better, but hopefully my bike's problems will all be fixed by then.

Skin of your Tyre

I got my bike back on the road yesterday, and does it ever feel good to be riding again.

It took all the nerve I had to ride my Versys the otherwise-inconsequential three miles to the garage. Every corner, every moment of acceleration, every hard stop, was a moment when I felt the bike would slip out from under me. When I got the bike back, the mechanics said that they could not find the cause of a puncture, but did what they could to maintain the integrity of the tyre and pump it back up.

The bike is due for a service very soon, and it's going to need a new chain and sprocket when that comes around as well as an oil change and goodness knows what else. I also received this year's council tax bill in the post yesterday along with a letter assuming renewal of my RAC membership. That's going to make this an expensive month. I could do with the improved wages of that new job right about now.

New Job

They've offered me the job!

The pay and hours are both much better than what I'm dealing with here, and there is time set aside for training and such so I'm "totally stoked". I am not handing my notice in yet as I have to wait for confirmation in writing before I do anything "hasty".

I was in Hawkhurst over the weekend again, this time for Sam's birthday and Mothers Day both at once. We had a meal out and Sam seemed to be pretty happy that we were all there for his twenty-first. It was nice, but I'm still tired. I've not had a weekend on which I can just rest for a while now, and I think the lack of respite might be catching up with me.

I'm supposed to be going to a Viking Society Banquet this coming Saturday, but I might just called the Jarl and give it a miss. There's a lot I want to do, including view that flat I saw recently if it's still there. Because I was away this weekend, I still need to call around about driving lessons and haven't made any progress on that book I am writing.

Loads of new computers have arrived at work, but I can't do that much with them as I've only room for one at a time on my desk. The one that's replacing my heap of junk works like a charm, but won't downgrade to Windows XP - if I leave it on Windows 7 it clashes with our system's anti-virus. Can't win 'em all I suppose.

I'm still waiting for my flat tyre to be seen to. Being stranded is vexing.

It vas leaves on ze line!

Taking the train to Lewes for my interview this morning, I was asked to show my ticket the moment I stepped onto the platform.

Anyone who has ever been to St. Leonards Warrior Square railways station (and escaped with their life) will know that this is unheard of. Southern Rail has been losing money hand over fist ever since I moved down here because there is very rarely, if ever, a guard on the platform and nobody ever asks to see your ticket.

It's usually the same on the trains too unless you get an early morning train to London or something. You can hop on the train at Ore and hop off the train at West St. Leonards without having to worry about someone checking to see if you've paid your fare.

I'm not saying that this is something I did a lot, because I didn't. Usually I'd be disappointed that I'd spent money doing the honourable thing by purchasing a ticket, only to be left unchallenged for the entire journey and feeling that I'd wasted some cash on what could have been a free ride. And yet I kept buying tickets. Read into that how you will.

But this morning, like I said, I was hardly out out of the ticket office when a big guy in a long black coat asked to see my ticket. Because he was standing right in the doorway and moved back a little as I approached, I thought he was apologising for standing in the way, but when he repeated himself I had to explain that I needed to collect a pre-paid ticket from the machine behind him.

The guards on the train were also very vigilant, actually taking time to check each ticket they were shown instead of just nodding every time they saw a flash of orange in a customer's hand.

We used to joke about how the train service would be much more efficient if the Gestapo ran it instead of Southern Rail, and that eventually drivers would be shot if trains were delayed ("Nein! Nein! Bitte! It vas leaves on ze line!"). I had to hide a smirk as the long black coats of the suddenly-efficient train guards on the station seemed to take on a humorous, and simultaneously dark, familiarity.

The interview seemed to go well enough. On the questionnaire I was stumped when asked if a PSU converts power from AC to DC or vice-versa, but I think I answered all the other questions to a satisfactory degree. I should know whether I've got the job or not by the end of the week.

Need More Time

There are things that must be done, but where is the time in which to do them?

I think my bike's rear tyre has caught a slow puncture. It is far too soft, and the whole thing even threatened to skid out from under me this morning. Working out in Robertsbridge, rather than in the town, means that the garages are often closed or closing by the time I get back to Hastings. They are also very busy, and I need my bike functional for this weekend.

The reason being that it is both Mothers Day and my youngest brother Sam's birthday this coming weekend. I have to get to train station-less Hawkhurst to celebrate both occasions at once on Saturday. There is also a Vikings meeting and training day on the following Sunday and I have no alternate means of getting there other than my motorcycle.

I have an interview in Lewes this Wednesday for a job with East Sussex County Council. That's not too bad since I can take the train straight to Lewes in the morning, and then find a convoluted train route to Robertsbridge after the interview.

One hiccup might be that I haven't had any hot water in my flat all weekend. A water pipe burst on Thursday or Friday and no one in the building has had access to hot water since. I've been informed that it's supposed to be fixed by this afternoon, but you never know how serious a problem like this can be, especially with older buildings.

I've run out of food, but I don't have enough confidence in my bike's stability to get to the supermarkets. There are local shops, but they don't stock everything and some of them close by the time I get home from work.

I also want to get started with some driving lessons. If I get this job at 'County that the Wednesday interview is for, it will mean a lot of riding around East Sussex on my bike from site to site. That's not so bad, but I'll want a car by the time November rolls around. Hell, I'll probably be sick of getting caught in the rain by June!

You can't fit a shield on a bike very easily either, so if I'm going to get serious about The Vikings, I'll need a more practical form of transport.

There was even a flat that caught my eye just now that I'd really like to have a look at. It's not much more expensive than where I am now, but it's in a much nicer area with a garden; there would also be spacious off-road parking, and I'd even be closer to shops, work, etc. than I am now. But when am I supposed to book a viewing for this potential utopia? It could be gone by this weekend, and I won't be able to look at it until at least the weekend after. Even then, would I be able to afford the moving costs and everything while I'm considering driving lessons and possibly a car?

A Novel Idea

I've been trying to write the same book since I was a spotty teenager. I might finally be making a real go for it.

I'm hoping that this wave of inspiration isn't the sort that will just ebb and die. I'd love to finally finish writing a proper story even if it was never to be published.

Although I tried it before, unsuccessfully, I decided to write out a vague plan for the story before I actually knuckled down to any specific chapter. Once I had that, I gradually elaborated on each section by adding more and more detail.

Now when I sit down to work on the story, I am writing, rather than thinking about what to write. Now I have a plan of everything that should be included in the story, I can just work on filling in the details and making the events flow into one another.

That doesn't mean it's going to be simple, or that I'll have it finished any time soon. Depending on how busy things will be this year, I might have finished it by 2011. I don't think I know if I'd want to publish it once it's done; at the moment it's just a story I've been wanting to write for a long time.

I haven't started writing it properly yet, as in: writing it in a format other people could read. It's still in a jumbled planning stage at the moment. However, this is much further than I've ever managed to get before, so it's quite exciting for me. At the very least, it's just one more project to keep me busy.

Armoury for Sale

The Living History Fair was packed. I didn't expect it to be so busy, but the crowds were heaving.

The fields surrounding the fair were wet, muddy, and not exactly what you'd want to walk around in all day. Mercifully, the market was held inside rather than outside and was heated. Space between some of the stalls was so limited that you really had to had to squeeze through and keep an eye out for an axe slung over someone's shoulder so it didn't hit you in the face.

I got some shoes and leg wrappings from a guy called Luke Holbrook who runs Wight Leather Craft. All of the merchants were, of course, more than happy to talk, advise, and assist. We were all bound by a common passion for re-enactment.

There were several periods represented. While Nick and I were looking for Saxon and Viking gear, there were medieval dresses and hats, plate armour, weapons for everything up to the very early renaissance, pirates, LARPers, a guy wearing steam-punk goggles, a Sharpe-lookalike, and even someone walking around in a WWI officer's uniform.

I also found a good belt, some leather off-cuts, and a wooden eating bowl. Nick got himself a leather pouch and an axe, which he got very excited about (understandably).

While we caught the train to London, it was a fairly long drive from there to Coventry where the fair was being held. Apparently this is held every year, and I heard that there is another one closer to Birmingham in March. I'll see what my fiscal situation is like and perhaps journey another market to get myself an axe or seax and helmet.

Online Worlds

Right now I'd rather be in Wurm, firing some clay pots and flasks so I can start fending for myself; or perhaps using a carving knife to feed my campfire with more kindling; better yet, gathering enough resources and making enough tools so that I can build an oven or forge in order to utilise the ore that seems to be scattered around the island.

Although I was fairly excited, and definitely interested, when I first heard about Wurm Online, I didn't have a stable Internet connection at the time and never got around to playing it.

I'm now trying to make up for lost time. The problem with that is everything else that is now going on around me. The Moeh guys have introduced me to the Mortal Online open BETA. It's like Oblivion crossed with Wurm, and it's massively multiplayer. I've only played it for a short while, and it is still in BETA, but so far it's delightful.

The Mortal Online website can explain the features better than I can here, and duplicating all the information would just be a waste of time. In short, it's a huge world that you can explore at your leisure from a first-person perspective. The combat feels much more like Mount and Blade than Diablo, and a lot of work has gone into the extensive crafting skills. There are no maps bar those you make yourself, and if you are the first to discover a new area you can name it. There are unique creatures, items, characters, and locations to discover, and the game really does feel like an Oblivion MMO with a heck of a lot of bells on it. Did I mention the graphics?

So there's another time sink. On top of that, this is one of the busiest times of year for me what with renewing rent, my bike insurance, paying the quarterly utilities bill, and reviewing my contract with my landlord. My fire alarm is beeping every minute or so, driving me mad, complaining that its battery is running low. My bike will need its next service very soon, but I think it needs an oil change before that. I'm off to the Living History Fair re-enacters' market this weekend to pick up some gear for the Vike. I finally got around to seriously knuckling down to writing a book, although we'll if I get complacent half way through as usual. I still have a lot of spriting to do for my Picture Wars army. I am no way near finished learning PHP. I'm trying to apply for two new jobs (I haven't even filled in the application pack for one of them yet). I still need to call some instructors to see if I can get some driving lessons. I'll never get around to reading A Brief History of Time at this rate.

Things got very busy all of a sudden.

Manaraefan

Well, I made it back from the Manaraefan training weekend alive and in one piece. Damn that was fun.

Nick and I both passed our basic combat and formation assessments, so we're now allowed to fight on the battlefield for the entertainment of the general public. It also means we can train and test for other qualifications like advanced combat and display fighting.

We were originally supposed to be camping outdoors in the same grounds we were training in. Fortunately, we were able to avoid getting frosty and wet by the utilisation of some low cunning combined with asking the right questions.

There was a fair number of people from several different Vike* groups to meet. Everyone was friendly and welcoming. On the first night, we played cards with a group of guys wearing impressive beards and packing even more impressive chainmail. By morning there were new faces in every direction. I don't think anybody could miss Cornelius the German. Someone told me he was the King's Champion for almost every weapon in the Vike arsenal; that's bloody impressive!

It seems that virtually everyone drinks mead and listens to Metal, neither of which would be in my list of hobbies and interests; but they're also interested in history and discussion. And, of course, beating each other senseless with weapons from the dark ages.

I'm stiff and aching in lots of places, but it's that kind of stiffness that you really don't mind because it means you know you've really done something. After seven hours of fighting, formations, and training, my left arm felt as though it could drop off. I guess I'll hit the weights a little more often than before, although I doubt combat at shows will last anywhere near seven hours.

There is a Living History Fair this coming weekend where I can buy the belts, shoes, and other paraphernalia required to make an authentic-looking costume. You never know, I might even go crazy and get myself a weapon.

I can hardly wait for the public shows and events to start. I think that the first one will be at Corfe Castle in Dorset. I've been told that it's one of the most popular events within the society because the castle is such a nice grounds to work in, and the village is so cooperative.

*"The Vikings" is often shortened to just "The Vike", although I think it may be spelled "Vik"

Ill Again

Unbelievable. Another cold!

I got over that big one, only to come down with another a week later. Where's the respite? Where's the mercy? Where's the panacea!?

Next weekend is the Manaraefan training weekend in Winchester. That's where newbie members of the Vikings like myself will be going to get assessed for battlefield safety. If I pass the tests for basic combat, they'll actually let me swing a length of steel at people for the public's entertainment! They'll also let other people swing lengths of steel at me for the public's entertainment.

The hardest thing to catch myself doing is still controlling my shield. I have improved, and I hope it's enough to be declared battlefield-ready, but it's something that I still need to work on.

Although I plan to use an axe when I'm actually on the field, I've been advised to train and take the test with a sword. Swords are certainly easier to use, and I can always train with an axe after I've taken the basic tests.

There are two events in Battle this year, and I've been told that Corfe Castle (in Devon) is well worth attending; so I should think I'll be at three events this year, in addition to Manaraefan. Hopefully, by this time next year, I'll have everything sorted out and won't have to borrow the odd piece of equipment (helmet, shield, tent, sleeping bag, drinking horn, etc.) from other Vikings. You never know, I might have another form of transport as well.

Welceme te Efrece

While the spriting for Picture Wars is still going well, there is definitely an Aztec or Inca theme emerging, a large proportion of my weekend was taken up by FarCry 2.

I've heard that the game received a lot of flak for being "arcadey". For example, there are guard checkpoints and campsites throughout the game's 50km² map; if you go in guns blazing (or nice and quiet) and clear them out, the sentries will have re-spawned when you revisit that area of the map.

I don't think many people complained about that happening in Oblivion. Granted, FarCry's mercenaries re-spawn with alarming frequency whereas Oblivion required at least twenty-four hours, probably more, for bandits and necromancers to start resettling camps that you had pacified. The same sort of thing was seen in S.T.A.L.K.E.R., but I don't remember too many complaints about that either.

The main problem may well be how soon enemies re-spawn after being killed; I once visited the same outpost three or four times in one in-game night and found new mercenaries there each time.

When you get past that, however, the game is an extraordinarily good sandbox shooter. You really can attempt to approach each and every objective, enemy base, hostile patrol, and vehicle convoy in your own way. Granted, there is no diplomatic solution to any of these problems, but then it's an FPS.

There are a lot of things, little additions and details, that really surprised me. The buddies, the factions, the underground movement, malaria, repairing vehicles, and more besides. The setting looks and feels authentic; at least, it does to someone who has never visited Africa. The mercenaries often telk leke thes, repleceng mest ef theer vewels weth e's, but some of the voice acting quality is a little questionable.

It looks like it's snowing now, and that the weather will be incliming (sic) that way for the rest of the week. Ho hum. I hope it clears up for re-enactment this Sunday.

PHP and Pixels

I thought Picture Wars had died completely, but it turns out that the community's forum gave up the ghost and forced everyone to move to a temporary replacement. I'm getting back into the swing of it, since I enjoyed it so much last time, but I've yet to complete my new sprite army.

Something else I'm getting into at the moment is PHP. I've only just started, but it seems to be very similar to JavaScript, so I don't think I'll have too much trouble with it.

Since I already know enough XHTML, CSS, and JavaScript to get me by, PHP seems like the next logical step. You can do a lot with PHP, and it has the potential to be very powerful. The Regional ICT Manager of Hastings told me that they were using it at the schools they look after to change students' passwords when they were forgotten. That's pretty cool stuff for a technician.

So far it has seemed like one of those weeks that has something for you to do every evening, so you don't actually get much time to yourself after work. Hopefully there'll be a break at some point and I'll be able to focus some creative energy on these new projects.

Hacking Cough

I was off work most of last week with the most unforgiving cold I've ever had. The word "flu" was thrown around once or twice, but I'm not entirely convinced because I didn't experience all of the normal symptoms for influenza.

I don't usually take medication for anything; but after a sinusitis headache woke me up in the middle of the night, and then kept me awake for hours afterwards, I was compelled to seek medical aid. Aspirin made me feel so damned human again that I will try to keep a small supply of it at all times.

The virus, and all the coughing that came with it, has given my voice a raspy edge. I can't reach a falsetto, and attempting to speak forcefully makes me sound like a teenager with a breaking voice again. I guess I can put up with sounding like Michael Ironside for a while.

I found some things to keep my occupied while I was off sick. I couldn't do any heavy reading, as it only made my head swim; but I did do a little writing for a fantasy RPG campaign. Who knows when I'll next have the opportunity to get back into gaming, but the world-building and scenario-writing is still enjoyable.

I also rediscovered Ghost Master and Evil Genius, which are both available at very reasonable prices on Steam. For Evil Genius I found an amazing base-builder tool online that lets you plan a hidden underground base on your very own secret island of indeterminate location.

Finally, Steam had Psychonauts was on offer last week. It has been hailed as one of those games that was really good, but nobody ever played it. Like Beyond Good and Evil, Arx Fatalis, or Giants: Citizen Kabuto. While I wouldn't go as far as putting it in the same category as the aforementioned titles, it has been pretty enjoyable so far. I'd recommend it to anyone who enjoys wacky platform puzzle games, but it's no Soul Reaver.

Doing Nothing

Recently I haven't really been doing anything. I've not been drawing, reading, walking, running, writing, gaming, or even cooking anything special. It's like I've woken up inside some sort of hypnagogia prison.

I'm sure the weather has had something to do with it; it's not like I'm planning on any countryside walks while the ground is wet and the winds are chill. Since the roads were salted and gritted for the snow, my bike has become absolutely filthy. It's not so easy to clean it now that I live four floors from street level.

I'm still attending the re-enactment meetings, and the most recent one was last Sunday. We did a lot more training, formed different sorts of shield walls, and I got into a knife fight with one of the group's "murderers". Yes, it seems that Saxons and Vikings who fought with seaxes (knives) rather than axes or swords were not warriors or soldiers; instead they were considered to be murderers. I think someone said that the same goes for archers.

Coming back to work has been quite depressing. Now I'm just waiting to hear about those job vacancies so I can get out of here.

Capping Morality

Do we put a limit on our ethics and morals? While most of us are equipped with moral safeguards that stop us from committing heinous acts of cruelty or selfishness, or at least punish us for minor offences with feelings of guilt or remorse; where does the development of our morality stop?

You can argue that we are the only creatures on Earth that understand the concept of morality. While animals may not be out and out evil to each other, you can't really say that they're charitable or sympathetic when it doesn't benefit them in some way. You could say the same about us, but now we're getting dangerously close to the subject of free will which would take me off in another direction.

To avoid digressing, I think it's safe to say that human beings are the most ethically and morally developed species on the planet. The counter argument includes nuclear weapons, rainforests, serial killers, and whaling; but anyone who argues those points as a counter to humanity being morally upstanding is actually disproving their own point.

My argument is that there is a lot of written work on ethics, morality, good and evil, justice, and things like the golden rule. It means we have an understanding about those things that are not simply automatic reactions; they are things that we can learn from others and make a choice about, rather than just inheriting behaviours unthinkingly (I know I mentioned that I don't want to go into the realms of free will, so I'm trying to keep this 'Free Will Lite').

The question that occurred to me recently was: at what point are our ethics or morals 'good enough'?

If we only have animals to compare ourselves to, we can say that we are the most morally superior beings. Then, without competition or greater comparison, we have no real reason to improve. Our technology grows; but this increase in power is not matched by a proportionate increase in ethics. Our morals can simply stagnate while our responsibilities multiply.

Those who subscribe to theology can try to match their ethos to the morals of their god/s, but then you're comparing the morality of a deity to the morals of mortal men and women.

We've had developments in not-so-distant human history. Human rights and the abolishment of slavery are things that began as things people may have had to consciously double-check themselves on; but are now built into the values we are learn growing up.

I'm not saying that things are perfect, because that's my point. Will there come a time when we, individually or as a race, say we have attained the highest moral standards possible? Or will we stop at necessary rather than possible? Have we already reached that point? Will we see a time when our ethics roll back to the way they were in darker times? How many of us already consider ourselves, individually, to be morally 'good enough' and don't bother with improving our behaviour to be more righteous?

Two in a Row

I am well on my way to truly hating my job. However, there are benefits to working out in the styx sticks. Yesterday was a snow day, which was wonderful. I found myself doing a little dance when I got the "you don't have to come into work" call.

Today is a snow day too. I had a contented smile when I heard the news, although you could guess the school wouldn't be open just by looking outside. If the snow is this bad on the coast, it's going to be much worse inland.

But because the site is out in a rural area and it's on the top of a sizeable hill, the school busses cannot guarantee they'll be able to get students to the gates in a safe or timely fashion in the mornings. It only takes leaves on the line for the rail service to become wildly unstable; so, in weather like this, you can be almost certain that the school will be closed.

I'm sure that for most of the teachers, especially the headteacher, it's annoying or even frustrating. It's even better for me than it is for the students; while they will probably have to work a little harder to catch up on their studies, I can sit back with the reassurance that while nobody is in the building, there aren't any problems developing.

Off-Hand

My challenge for this month is to do menial tasks that I would normally perform with my right hand, with my left. Brushing my teeth, shaving, buttering bread, opening doors, cutting my nails; it hasn't gone as far as writing or moving mice around, but the activities listed above have become much more difficult.

Okay, opening doors with your off-hand isn't particularly difficult, but other things become much more awkward. You feel like a prepubescent child trying to coordinate clumsy gestures and unfamiliar movements, imitating actions that seem to come so easily to the grown ups around you. Go ahead and try brushing your teeth with the hand you don't normally use.

Over the Christmas holiday I also rebuilt my PC and then installed Ubuntu on a virtual computer thanks to Sun VirtualBox.

After what I can only describe as friction between myself and SUSE, I have been pleasantly surprised by Ubuntu. It's pretty quick, it's smooth, it's not at all ugly, it's easy to use, and so far I haven't had any problems doing what I want to do with it.

Part of the good vibe must thanks to VirtualBox since I can just fall back to my native PC at any time if Ubuntu doesn't behave in the way I want it to. I haven't done much with the OS apart from explore the command prompt (sorry, terminal), play Mines, check out its audio/video player, and browse the web; so perhaps I should refrain from gushing before I've tried to run and install some programs, set up a web server, tested for bugs or security holes, and investigated the limits of the Open Source software available for Linux.