Hughesovka

Who am I?

I was born Merthyr Tydfil where my father was an engineer at Cyfarthfa ironworks. It was there I learnt my trade there before moving to Ebbw Vale and then the Uskside Foundry in Newport in the 1840s.

There I married, had eight children, and worked hard and well enough to earn a seat on the board, a directorship of the Millwall Engineering and Shipbuilding Company in London, and credit for the business's worldwide acclaim for iron cladding wooden warships for the British Admiralty.

When the company received an order from Imperial Russia for the plating of a naval fortress being built at Kronstadt on the Baltic Sea, I sailed to the Ukraine with eight shiploads of equipment and around a hundred specialist ironworkers and miners, mostly from south Wales, to build a metallurgical plant and rail producing factory.

My factory gave its name to the settlement which grew in its shadow, and the town with the delightfully unlikely name of Hughesovka (Yuzovka) grew rapidly.

I am John Hughes and I am the latest Welsh Born Icon.

City News

Brewing giants Carlsberg and Heineken have said that they are in talks about forming a consortium to buy Amy Winehouse.

They said there was no guarantee an offer would be made for the singer, whose albums include Frank, and Back to Black.

Winehouse said any forthcoming bid would be "unwelcome" and that she was committed to being an independent woman.

Halloween

The New Ninja Bomber is back from Asia and I am very glad to see him regardless of the fact that his jet lag (plus the clocks going back) robbed us of a trip to Manchester, and led him to wake me up at 3:30 am and nag me downstairs.

My Analgesic

"The best thing for being sad," replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something. That's the only thing that never fails... You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds... Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn."

T.H. White via Harvey J. Kaye via Norm. Thanks fellas.

Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics

From the local rag:

The Labour MP for Mitcham and Morden racked up the biggest bill for paper, envelopes and postage in the course of a year, figures from Parliament reveal.

All I can say, is more power to her elbow.

When I wrote to her in 2005 to flag my worries about the "Racial and Religious Hatred" bill she arranged a meeting for me and other concerned constituents with the Minister responsible.

Last year, when I wrote explaining our Virtual Bumblebee product, she helped me get a representative from the Home Office along to a user meeting.

She could have saved money on both occasions by not writing back.

I think that she may spend more on mail than her colleagues because she works harder.

Exit signs? They're on the way out.

The New Ninja Bomber being in Asia until the weekend. I was free to go along to the Roar with Laughter comedy show at GJ's last night for the first time since February.

The line up was different from that advertised but I imagine it will be recorded on the previous gigs list soon.

I had a good time, but I can't help but think that we live in a period of stultifying orthodoxy and received opinion in which performers - while convinced that they are free spirits - are actually terrified of being tarred with a phobia or an 'ism if they say something out of line.

They need to grit their teeth and remember this, which applies as well to jokes as more serious matters:

Accusing your opponent of causing you offence has become an everyday tactic in public discussion.

This is a cowardly tactic, which means that you don’t have to bother putting your own case, or pointing out the other’s flaws.

This also presents another’s opinions as mere ‘hate’ or ‘phobias’, suggesting that your opponent is blind or irrational, and not worth arguing with.

Against this, we should celebrate the virtues of public argument. It is through arguments that we develop our own ideas, and learn from each other.

We should avoid playing the ‘offence card’, and continue with the match of public debate.

I survivied St Joseph's Convent Infants School

The way those sisters used to whack me, I don't know what. They thought they was going to beat an education into me, but I foxed them.

You couldn't make it up

A leading novelist today welcomed the revelation from headmaster Albus Dumbledore that gay rights spokesman Peter Tatchell is fictional.

But JK Rowling said the champion of homosexual equality's "lack of corporeality" should have been made clearer in the stories about him.

Dumbledore exposed Tatchell’s apocryphal essence while teaching a class at Hogwarts.

“Peter is made up,” the Professor revealed to a response of gasps and applause.

Dumbledore then joked: “I would have told you it was a stunt as soon as I realized if I had known it would make you so happy.”

Story supporter JK Rowling said: “It’s good that children are being taught the importance of mythical characters, since they exist in every culture.

“But I am disappointed that the media have not always made Tatchell’s nature clear.

“We always new he was fabulous, honey,” she clarified. "But a fable? Sheeesh!"

Dumbledore said that his suspicions began years ago when he read an article praising Mr. Tatchell in the Daily Mail.

“I guessed I was being had, when I came across approval for the leader of the radical queer rights non-violent direct action group OutRage! in conservative Middle England's house paper. And all apparently because he had attempted a citizen’s arrest on Robert Mugabe!

“You couldn’t make it up,” he said echoing Richard Littlejohn, the fictional journalist.

The State of the Nation

It's probably more detail than you need, but when I am grinding out the virtual miles up the virtual hills in Virgin of a lunchtime, I plug earphones into the exercise bike and watch the built in TV.

This explains how when I started cursing footage on the news of a smirking scumbag swaggering free from court even though he had punched a 96-year-old war veteran in the face leaving him blind in one eye, my voice was rather louder than intended and I got some strange looks from people who imagined I was psyching myself up.

From The Telegraph today:

Stephen Gordon, 44, was captured on CCTV launching a savage, unprovoked attack on defenceless Shah Chaudhury after they bumped into each other on a crowded tram in south London.
Other afternoon passengers, including children, looked on in horror as Gordon called Mr Chaudhury a "b******" and lashed out at the great-grandfather with his clenched right fist.

It's obvious to me that he should be punished for that attack. I am far less interested in jaded sophistry about whether or not banging him up is in the best interests of the public.

Judge Kenneth Macrae told the court.
“That said it would do nothing to protect the public in the future and my real concern is the public. It seems to me that the best way of ensuring that he is not a risk, is in relying on various support from psychiatrists and probation officers.”

Thanks 'n all Judge, we can all sleep sounder in our beds.

Here's a small detail, insignificant from some viewpoints I suppose, that seems to me to illustrate how degraded we have become as a civic society:

In a statement to Croydon Crown Court Mr Chaudhury, a British citizen, said he had been standing in the aisle of the tram because nobody would give up their seat for him.
He was gripping a rail with both hands to steady himself when Gordon tried to squeeze by under his arms.

I'm ashamed to live in a country where one offers a seat on a busy tram to a frail nonagenarian. In Edmund Burke's words:

Manners are of more importance than laws. Manners are what vex or soothe, corrupt or purify, exalt or debase, barbarize or refine us, by a constant, steady, uniform, insensible operation, like that of the air we breathe in.

There is a sliver of hope for us though, two school children who were on the tram chased Gordon and later gave evidence against him.

So shines a good deed in a weary world.

Geek Binary Joke

Here's a 10 finger salute for anyone who doesn't understand Classless Inter-Domain Routing.

The Manly Arts

The New Ninja Bomber is in Hong Kong with his mother for half term. I'm taking him skiing with me (in a party of thirty one old Whitton chums including four other kids around his age) next year, and I took advantage of this weekend's trip to the Twickenham Beer festival to pay the balance due at the travel agent.

I'd like him to grow up knowing how to ski. I get a lot of satisfaction from his progress in swimming and Muay Thai lessons, and I remember thinking when Mark was kind enough to put him in the saddle last year, that it would be no bad thing to get the drop on that as well. I'm also developing a vague idea of taking him on a beach club holiday in the summer to see if he can't be blooded as a little surf dude.

Accomplishment in the manly arts is an important part of education, and I've found a new one that The Profit Burglar and I can add to our repertoires as part of Eat Your Way Around the World in London.

Opening a bottle of champagne with a saber, or sabrage, was apparently invented by the swaggering Hussars of Napoleon's cavalry, and it seems that at certified sabrage "caveau" Le Vacherin (Chiswick W4 5LF) the payment of a £10 supplement allows you to sabre your own bubbly under the watchful eye of master sabreur Malcolm John. Surely that has to make it our French destination of choice.

"Champagne! In victory one deserves it; in defeat one needs it."

I am a Camra

Back to Whitton last night for the 9th TWICKENHAM BEER & CIDER FESTIVAL 2007.

I generally confined my attentions to milds, porters and stouts with one diversion to cider and another to:

Jaipur IPA (5.9) Strong and hoppy – a real
IPA; named after the pink city where the
brewery’s owners were married.

How romantic!

The Summit of Sumner

There is no need to be tongue-tied around Sting. Acting on his own advice, if you ever find yourself in his august presence, you could say he:

• lost his faith in science and progress
• lost his belief in the holy church
• lost his sense of direction
• was a lost man in a lost world
• lost his faith in the people on TV
• lost his belief in our politicians.

You see, there was no need to be nervous after all. Admittedly, he does seem rather prone to losing things, but somehow I think it makes him seem more human.

Tread softly though, because if he ever lost his faith in you there'd be nothing left for him to do, and that would be sad.

Cocoon Butterfly

Cocoon Butterfly is a shop in Abbey Mills where I got the silk above for my niece. I think it looks jolly splendid.

Come on England

Amy Winehouse looks likely to be named today on the left wing in the England team to play South Africa in the World Cup final at the Stade de France on Saturday.

Winehouse was training yesterday in the position that had been filled by Josh Lewsey before the London Wasps player pulled a hamstring shortly before half-time during the semi-final against France last weekend. If Brian Ashton, the head coach, does include Winehouse, he will be picking a woman who will not have played live for three weeks, and whose form has been inconsistent.

The decision to go with Winehouse is a straight wino-for-wing selection. The alternative would have been to have fielded the combination that finished against France last weekend, with Mathew Tait moving from outside centre to the wing and Dan Hipkiss slotting into Tait’s original position.

Ah, the joys of find and replace.

Harder, Better, Faster, Stranger

I actually farted the Daft Punk sample that serves as the hook for Kanye West's single "Stronger" last night.

Tooting Bac

From the Guardian:

It was lunchtime on London's Northern line. Deep underground, passengers were getting on and off the tube trains as normal. Two men boarded a train at Colliers Wood in south London. As the train gathered speed towards its next stop, Tooting Broadway, one of them got up from his seat and dropped a small carton of face powder out of the window. He could have been idly throwing away litter.

As the train sped on, the carton hit the tracks and burst. Out spewed millions of tiny spores, which began to spread throughout the dark tunnels. Dust swabs taken after three days and two weeks showed that the spores had spread as far up the line as Camden Town station in north London, 10 miles away.

This really happened. But the two men weren't terrorists but government scientists. And the spores weren't anthrax spores, but a harmless micro-organism designed to mimic clandestine sabotage with anthrax. This was an official experiment in 1963, and it showed how easily saboteurs could inflict a potentially devastating attack on Britain's capital.

I promise never to be bored on the Northern Line again.

Puff

The Plain People of Ireland: Considering the man himself; the all round entertainer Puff Daddy aka P Diddy, you understand; what would he in your estimation would he be worth in cash money terms, if you please and by your leave?

Myself, a Welsh Born Icon: You may say that I would value Sean John Combs at one million dollars.

The Plain People of Ireland: But surely even an eye as jaundiced, or yet a head as drink raddled, as your own must see plainly that the gold, diamonds and furs that adorn him even as we speak must have cost that sum alone. His bling man! The issue of bling must be addressed.

Myself, a Welsh Born Icon: I included that gross ornamentation in my gross calculation. You may deduce the implied net worth.

"A sardonic laugh escapes us as we bow, cruel and cynical hounds that we are. It is a terrible laugh, the laugh of lost men. Do you get the smell of porter?"

Sea Bass

I'm not happy saying it, but I think England may be in with a shout against France. Sébastien Chabal et al's heart bursting efforts against the All Blacks may have taken too much out of them.

We shall see. I've been wrong about everything else in the Rugby World cup.

PSP

I got the New Ninja Bomber a PSP for his birthday.

It's now set up to access the Internet wirelessly in my office and at home, and with a selection of his photos, video and music as well as downloaded games.

This was however a pain in the neck for both me and The Profit Burglar. We had to upgrade the OS and reformat the memory stick before the web browser would work properly, and the text entry system (modelled on SMS) is an abomination that surpasseth all human understanding.

If you attach it to a PC via USB the device is simply mounted as a drive. Henceforth I'm going to manage it from there, and download from http://uk.playstation.com/psp/ etc. onto the desktop rather than directly to the PSP.

For all these travails however, I can see that the next generation of a PSP type system may become indispensable, that removeable storage is on its last legs, and that ubiquitous wireless access will change the landscape fundamentally.