A VERY EXCITING TIME.

Hello chaps. Just to inform you that ALBOWIEB is now officially being moved to http://www.samburnett.co.uk/, my erstwhile website.

Please bear with me as I spend hours and hours trying to do simple little things that have become easy to me whilst using blogger. I'm having difficulty setting up the blog-by-email, 16 messages saying exactly the same thing may turn up at some point.

My blogroll and crappy little bits of html I shall be moving gradually, I also have lots of stuff to talk about, but main thing is that the boxes have been shifted, I've found some bedding and ordered a pizza...

UPDATE: Links shifted, the place is starting to feel like home. Don't worry, I'll be changing the banner soon.

ALBOWIEB is off the ruddy chart, sonny jim! Ahem.

I see that delegate there...

Apologies for any disruption at this time, ALBOWIEB is currently undergoing some refurbishment and rationalisation - watch these pixels for further exciting developments...

Bleurgh

I'm in Blackpool for NUS conference and we're just coming to the end of the first day. Describe in one word? Arse.

Finders keypers

I've been searching desperately for a set of keys for over a week now. It started as nothing important - you have to understand that I am incredibly forgetful, terribly badly organised and have a very short attention span...I have to work quite hard at what comes naturally to other people. I have a little green storage thing from Ikea that sits just on the left as I go up the stairs to my dwelling place in the attic of our humble abode. It never moves, and every time I come home of an evening my pockets divest themselves of anything that I might need at a future point. At all times I should be able to come back to that point and find my wallet, my car keys, my house keys, my Union keys, anything.

A slightly drawn-out and rambling context, but forgive me, this has been traumatic. Hunting down these keys has dominated my thoughts this week, every room I've been into I've been looking for a glint of golden yale, or a hint of silvery mortice. I've been in the middle of talking to people and suddenly thought of some cranny they might be cowering in. I've literally turned my bedroom, my car, my office inside out, upside down and shake it all about.

In all seriousness, the quest for these keys has become something existential, a sad definition of my place in the world, a crisis of self. You see, almost everything else in life is watched and covered by others. Sure, I have responsibilities and bad things might happen, but there are checks and balances. All I have to do is get myself out of bed and remember my keys - if I can't remember my keys why bother getting out of bed? What hope is there for looking after a family, or even fending for myself in the big, bad world? It started as a guilty secret, something I could solve myself, it turned into a plea for help, turning to my nearest and dearest for any succour or strength they could provide. These keys have been a philosophical nightmare - I've prayed for them to turn up, I've asked innumerable people if they've seen them, I've got emotional about them. Keys, for goodness' sake.

Thank goodness I found the little buggers.

Counsel

I nearly killed our local assembly member just now, it was most horrific. Alun Ffred tripped over my bag as he was trying to leave the meeting quietly, a terribly serious and not even slightly amusing event. Stop sniggering at the back there. It was a good Council, though - I've not seen any of the University Council members so animated in all my two years, I suspect some sort of entropy at work; hibernation, premature death, that sort of thing. They get exercised when there are community matters at work, it's the political opposite of Nimbyism.

The funniest Council meeting ever was when the translator went postal and started swearing into the microphone. "He's too far back, the bastard", was the culmination of quite a dramatic turn of events. He's definitely my favourite one, although I imagine he's been reassigned to Siberia by now. Funnily enough, the translation unit were subsequently moved to the Normal Site, near Menai Bridge, which is the parochial equivalent.

But anyway - I write for advice, bloglings...I've had a slip of paper through at work from the postie saying that they've tried to deliver a parcel to me, but the sender hasn't paid enough. Fair enough. Closer inspection of the form reveals that a £1 "handling fee for underpaid items" has been included. Included being the important word here, as the total amount due is £1.06.

SIX PENCE?!? THEY WON'T DELIVER MY PARCEL BECAUSE OF SIX RUDDY PENCE?!

I'm not really expecting anything and don't feel that curious about it, and so my first inclination is to go to the sorting office and tell them to send it back because I don't want it. Should I stand up on principle, or just pay the £1.06 and leave it be? Decisions, decisions. 6 pence, pff.

Want some laughter? Bigger penis? Best medicine.

I wake up every morning next to Charlotte Green - she has a lovely voice, one that caresses me awake with the newsatseven-a-yem or, as is more likely, the news at 8am. This morning was quite surprising as Charlotte, after a slightly strange piece on the discovery of first ever recording of the human voice, which turned out to be an ethereal wibble on a burnt piece of paper. Clearly Charlotte thought it was amusing as she soon dissolved into a fit of laughter midway through the death of some chap and couldn't carry on, leaving James Naughtie and the chaps to carry on sombrely about some minor skerfuffles in Basra.

It's nice to start the morning with Radio 4.

Les Français, ils sont arrivées

I would enjoy opening up the country to any French premier who they don't like a great deal, but it's been fun to watch M. Sarkozy and his missus meeting the royals and living it up in London. Madame Sarkozy is also a bit attractive, I don't know if anyone noticed, but that helps. Justin Webb has been talking about a journalist who wrote in a book about Hillary Clinton that she 'tends to remind men of their first wives'; she's got her work cut out if men's second wives are french ex-supermodels. I like France, though, improved relations can only be a good thing.

Nicolas (we're always on first-name terms by the second reference here) did a great interview with Radio 4 before he came, heaping praise on Britain and stressing that the EU can only move forward with the UK being a constructive force. He's even thinking about committing more troops to Afghanistan, you can only wonder what he's up to.

I will say one thing though: if I see one more amusing pun or play on words there's going to be an entente suicidale.

A reply

You may remember my letter to Cadbury regarding their creme egg suicide ad campaign: I've had a reply.

Dear sir/madam,

Thank you for contacting us. I am sorry to hear that you have been put off Creme Eggs by the new advertising campaign.

The campaign, 'Here Today, Goo Tomorrow' is designed to highlight what everyone loves about Creme Eggs, the goo, and the advertisements depict various scenarios where the egg delights in fulfilling its destiny to release the goo in fun, light-hearted and mischievous ways. Just like cartoons, the egg characters and their actions are entirely fictional and intended to be light-hearted and entertaining. They are not intended to be reflective of the real world in any way.

We value all our customers so I do hope this explanation reassures you, and thank you for your comments which have been taken on board.

Yours sincerely

Cadbury

(So, creme eggs have a destiny. To release the 'goo'. I didn't realise there was a scientific name for it.)

A ballad of Tom Jones...

I've come to pick Carolan up from the ferry port, make sure she gets through immigration, that sort of thing; I'm sitting in the car, wind howling about me, listening to music. It makes me want to be going somewhere.

Tom Jones' Burning Down The House from his excellent Reload album was just on, there's this line it, 'my house, no physical means of support, but babe you ain't seen nothing yet'...not a profound sentiment, but he grumbles it well. Do you have any songs you completely got the words wrong to? For years I thought that was 'no physical means lots of porn'.

I continue to wait.

Meme, eye, self and eye.

Long-time listener, first-time caller Wendy writes and asks:

"What is your favourite TV show?

"What is your favourite food? Feel free to break that down to favourite breakfast, lunch and dinner."

Well thanks, Wendy. My favourite TV show is the West Wing. I don't actually watch a great deal of television, but I have been sampling the delights of world cinema and televisual output for two and a half years now via the DVD-by-post-service-formerly-known-as-ITV-movies-and-recently-taken-over-by-Lovefilm-dot-com. I'm just about to finish series 6 of the West Wing and hope to have series seven very soon or I may kill someone. It was a three week wait the last time and I thought my hair was starting to fall out with the stress. After that it's season two of Gilmore Girls (don't ask) and season three of Desperate Housewives. In-between, of course, a smattering of very masculine action movies.

My favourite foods broken down into the three recognised major meals of the day would be:

Breakfast - possibly a hotel breakfast. You know the drill - get some toast, pour some orange juice but really you're on a recce of the sausages and eyeing up the melon slices to see if they've completely given up the ghost. I get up early in hotels so that I have plenty of time to grab a paper from the lobby, sit with a pot of tea and stuff as much fried potatoes, sausages, beans, scrambled eggs, hash browns, cereal, toast, fruit and cheap yoghurt as I can.

Lunch - I occasionally like a nice meatball sub, but my favourite sandwich is Gouda with peanut butter and grapes.

Dinner - this is where I go German. My favourite dinner would either be a delicious round of German salad entree (pickled cucumbers, potato salad [the proper stuff, made with olive oil and white wine vinegar] and a splash of lettuce) and Kässpätzle, a southern dish of homemade noodles sprinkled with Emmenthaler and fried onions, OR, I'd have Bratkartoffeln, simply sauteed potatoes with onions and bacon bits. If I was feeling frisky I may order a bratwurst or two with that...my favourite pudding is rice pudding, but with this meal it would be a nice slab of whatever cake's just come out of the oven...

But anyway - that wasn't even the point of this post. Dearest Katy tagged me ages ago with a delightful meme and I haven't got round to adding my tuppence until now. The idea is that you turn to page 123 of the book that you are reading at the moment, skip 5 sentences and post the next three.

The books I'm reading at the moment are: Chris Patten's 'Not Quite The Diplomat' (excellent book, great chap), Anthony Seldon's seminal 'Blair' (excellent book) and 'A Pocket Guide To Ethical Issues' by Andrew Goddard (excellent book, will make me a great chap). I'll leave you to try and guess which is which. (And gosh, how dull do I sound when you read these?)

"Instead, forge a populism of the centre, which is a prerequisite for electoral success, broaden class appeal beyond the working class and use the media to the fullest and most professional extent. Delegates also heard how, to distance himself from negative associations of his party in the past, Clinton had styled himself leader of the 'New Democrats'.

"All this razzmatazz went down predictably badly with the traditionalists in the Labour party."

<<>>

"There is no question that it would have been better for European Economic performance if the Commission had been able to get its own way; democratic reality pointed in another direction.

"This raises questions that de Gaulle's answer does not meet. He had gone on in the same speech to say: 'To fancy one can build something effective in action and acceptable to the peoples, outside or above the States, is a chimera.'"

<<>>

"These could have led to executions if capital punishment was still in place. Four people who were hanged in the 1950s (most famously Derek Bentley whose story was told in the film Let him have it) have subsequently had their convictions judged 'unsafe', and many reckon an even larger number of earlier convictions may have led to the death of innocent or mentally ill people.

"Through most of Christian history, most Christians have accepted or even supported the death penalty."

Questions I have

Why on earth do they persist in trying to persuade me to Argos it?

It'll never be cool, or in fact used.

The Long March

I'm getting depressed now - not the early start watching the Malaysian Grand Prix, but rather the fact that at least four of the drivers on the grid this morning are younger than me.

I'm starting to feel old at 23 - it was always going to be a difficult time for me when I finally felt like I could never be an F1 driver in even my wildest dreams. I'll have to find something else to look forward to now, perhaps chairman of the bridge club.

Questions I have

Do you ever stop and think what things would be like if something hadn't been invented?

Glass, for instance. Life would either be a lot darker or a lot draughtier without it...

BBC (F)1

I'm terribly pleased that the BBC have got the F1 coverage back after 12 years - ITV have never quite managed to find 'it', the voice; every time you watch it's like motor racing for dummies, pandering to whatever blithering idiot their research says they should be attracting for ad revenue gains. That's not to mention James Allen - I don't like to write anything on my blog that's too mean, that I wouldn't say to someone's face, but gosh he comes as an irritating dullard who says whatever ridiculous thought comes into his head. He said something last weekend about Frank Williams being on the edge of his seat - the man's in a wheelchair.

It's Friday, but Sunday's comin'

I don't know why we call it Good Friday, the poor man got butchered alive for goodness' sake. I don't think being falsely accused of inciting treason against the state and left to die slow, lingering death having been badly beaten would rank very highly on anyone's list of top 100 good fridays...at any rate today isn't high up in my list. I'm coming down with a slow, lingering cold, woke up early (not by design), did some tidying, caught up on the church finances (Did I ever mention that? Haha.), visited a friend...I feel terribly bland though - neither good nor bad, happy nor sad, it could swing either way. I think it's tiredness, I've been tired for about twenty months now. I'm not going to Dear Diary you all into submission, so never fear - I know my place. I'm about as edgy as a pair of children's scissors, more haemo than emo. Hey - a bit of pavement dashes into a shop chased by some green tarmac and yells 'Help, call the police, I'm being attacked by a cycle path!' Tony Campolo does a great talk about Easter weekend - Friday seems dark, like the end of the world, but Sunday's coming.

I must also apologise for any offense from yesterday's post, I would not wish to bite the hand that if it doesn't feed me then certainly nourishes an emaciated ego. Zoomy asks what my favourite ice-cream flavour is - if we're talking Ben and Jerry's then anything with cookie dough or brownie chunks in it, otherwise I'm a straight-up chocolate man. I went to the Courtyard restaurant in Beaumaris once for lunch and they had this terrific turkish delight-flavoured ice-cream that I can only describe as sexual.

On that note, I'm off to bed.

Any answers.

The questions died on their backside, I won't be relying on such user participation as reading my blog and reacting to it - I did get one obvious plant from one person: Carolan, you are of course my most favoured and treasured of housemates. But then Frodo doesn't read this.

Shall I make up some of my own questions then?

Yes, that wouldn't be weird. Did you get any interesting phone calls today?

Funny you should ask, I got a call offering me a provisional place on the internship and I accepted.

Interesting. Provisional you say?

Yes, they have an MP in mind - they will send my details, we'll meet up in a month or so and see if we hit it off. Have you been up to anything else that's interesting?

No.

A letter

Dear Nestle,

Do the orange Smarties actually taste of anything?

Best regards,

Sam Burnett

<<<>>>

Dear Sam

Thank you for getting in touch about Smarties.

Nestle Rowntree have been marketing Smarties since before the Second World War - originally under the Rowntree company name. Prior to 1958 the dark brown sweet had a plain chocolate centre and the light brown had coffee flavoured chocolate. However, as a result of consumer research, we now use milk chocolate for all the sweets and the orange Smartie flavouring is now in the shell.

Thank you once again for taking the trouble to contact us. I hope this reply answers your questions and that you enjoy our products in the future.

Yours sincerely,

Nestle

(I guess that's a yes then - didn't know that interesting historically tidbit about Smarties prior to 1958, though.)

Habt ihr welche Fragen?

AAAAAANYTHING.

I'm off for an eye test in a bit. Very exciting.

AN INTERESTING THING I SHALL BE DOING TOMORROW.

I worked out yesterday on the drive back from Swansea that by the time I'm back in Bangor today (I'm in Wrexham), I'll have travelled about a thousand miles since last Wednesday. That is: a car trip to Coventry, the train to London, a car trip to Swansea and a car trip to Caernarfon on Sunday night. Plus bits inbetween, like shopping and tube journeys, etc. Just thought I'd say that.

Anyway, in a spirit of plagiarism, I've seen Zoomy's post from yesterday and plan to steal his novel idea. Tomorrow I shall answer your questions. If you have any, in which case I may have to make some up.

So jump to it - the comments are anonymous if you want them to be, I know there are lots of lurkers and such who don't want to out themselves as closet readers (university-types, members of the family, local prominents, etc) - no-one will know...

Spatnav

I used the satnav feature on my phone for the first time in anger today. You can infer both meanings out of that: I drove all the way to Swansea without a map and I got so angry I nearly started weeping in frustration. The fact that I was an hour late for my meeting can be partially attributed to these turn of events. Or turns of event. Or turns of events.

The voice on my satnav is called James. He sounds a bit like Sean Connery; it was between him and an authoritative older woman not dissimilar to Judi Dench. We were getting on well until today. I shouted at him, he started being churlish and not calling out directions until after we'd passed the road.

Around Aberystwyth he had a change of mind in terms of his concept for the journey and added 30 miles. I stopped at Llanrug for unleaded (and found the only petrol station in the western world with a pump attendant) and told James to get me the shortest way into Swansea. This involved what can only be described as 25 miles of green laning - at one point he started yelling 'left 3 easy flat over crest', followed by 'in 8 miles take the third exit at the roundabout'. I got nervous as A-road turned to B-road, which turned to country lane, which turned into strip of tarmac running through the Brecon Beacons national park, which turned into a mud track in the forest. I was apoplectic. (And also enjoying it a bit, I've been trying for 20 months to get the tail out, managed it today.)

Meeting was fine, lovely buffet, went for a lovely walk with one of my fellow Council members...but still, there was a 4-hour return trip looming. "Home, James" has never been so loaded.