Le video.

Le video from le secret cinema. Here.

Secret Cinema -Ghostbusters.

Last Saturday I stage-managed for the lovely people at Secret Cinema. We were showing Ghostbusters, at the Lawrence Hall near Victoria, which we did up to look like the Sedgewick Hotel from the movie. As people arrived they saw a NY taxi pull up with Dana in and her rush into the building, followed by Louis, then the Ghostbusters arrived in the appropriate car, and a CNN van turned up. NY newspaper boys gave out copies of the newspapers from the film, and as the audience walked through the foyer/ hotel lobby, they were given room keys. They walked through a series of installations of sets from the film (including Darla's appartment in which I had accidentally secured a fake sideboard to a fake fridge by simply drilling through both....) and watched the film in the 'ballroom', afterwards, DJ Paul spun some 80's tunes. 912 people attended.

There are endless photos of the event here.

Your baby need styling?

I got Kaydence dressed today. Ceri-Mummy just sighed...

How to make books.

Draw some killer pictures, as requested (for those not in the know, the rat-pig thing on the far left is Winston, a chinchilla, and my room-mate).

Get your leading colourist to lay it down.


Hole-punch and tie it all together with a jaunty cardboard cover, et vwah-lah...

How can I service you today?

My Dad wants to know if I want to go sailing with him, for two months, in the Caribbean.

As I walked down Maidenhead High Street, listening to young mothers hitting their children, with rain pouring down the back of my neck, on my way to my interview at the local CD shop (once Our Price, formerly HMV, short lived Virgin, now a Zavvi), I thought... yeah, now that sounds like a good deal.

Seriously, where do I sign up?

Decline and Fall.

Evelyn Waugh is the Anna Faris of literature. Stuff falls broadly under the comedy blanket, but a good fall comedy fall is a good comedy fall, no matter what the experts say. Today I finished off Decline and Fall. It's good, read it. It's strongest in it's first third.

"I suppose the first thing I ought to do is get your names clear. What is your name?" he [Paul} asked, turning to the first boy.
"Tangent, sir."
"And yours?"
"Tangent, sir," said the next boy. Pauls heart sank.
"But you can't both be called Tangent".
"No, sir, I'm Tangent. He's just trying to be funny".
"I like that. Me trying to be funny! Please sir, I'm Tangent, sir; really I am.
"If it comes to that, " said Master Clutterbuck from the back of the room, "there is only one Tangent here, and that is me, anyone else can jolly well go to blazes".
Paul felt desperate.
"Well, is there anyone here who isn't Tangent?"
Four or five voices instantly arose.
"I'm not sir; I'm not tangent.I wouldn't be called Tangent, sir"
In a few seconds the room had become divided in to two parties: those who were Tangent, and those who were not. Blows were already being exchanged, when the door opened and Grimes came in. There was a slight hush.
"I thought you might like want this", he said, handing Paul a walking stick "and if you take my advice you'll give them something to do".
He went out; and Paul, firmly grasping the walking stick, faced his form.
"Listen", he said. "I don't care a damn what any of you are called, but if theres another word from you I shall keep you in all afternoon".
"You can't keep me in", said Clutterbuck, "I'm going for a walk with Captain Grimes".
"Then I shall very well nearly kill you with this stick. Meanwhile, you shall all write an essay on 'Self-indulgence'. There will be a prize of half-a-crown for the longest essay, irrespective of any possible merit".
From then onwards all was silence until breaktime.

Johnny Dreams of Plastic?

My friend and fellow lone-blogging wolf Simon wrote this comic strip, based on an experience he had at his work.
So I wrote this.




As I'm not working at the moment, I don't have any experiences at work. However, today I dropped a bottle of Calpol on the kitchen floor. Calpol is a children's medicine that doesn't do much except reduce fever and taste of sugar, sugar and strawberry syrup. Kids go crazy for it, and in turn it makes them a little crazy. Theres liters of the stuff here. Its a viscous substance, shimmers in the light and it very hard to clear up. Also the bottle breaks in a manner of interesting ways. Shouldn't it be plastic?

Blah. Teh. Meh.

You think about things a lot less when your foremost companion is a three-year-old. Today we baked cakes and pretended to be various modes of transport. Then I popped up Norden Farm to check out some jazz. An old dude told me about his post-war days playing trombone and jiving at the 100 club. I was well jealous.

Sticking and Gluing 2. Stick Harder!

Kaydence and I made this sign today for her bedroom door. I did the letters (!), my favorite being the 'Y'. I am also proud that Spiderman got such good billing. I also tried to explain that the letter 'C' was blue, which is the same colour as 'the sea'. Then I tried to explain why this was interesting, but then couldn't remember if it was a homophone or what, so I just made splashing noises for a while. Kaydence unimpressed by my attempt at invoking a marine wonderland with only my voice and my heart. Imbecile.

Sticking and Gluing

Today, Kaydence and I did sticking and gluing. We made this cool box. The coolness of the box was overshadowed somewhat when I let her play with the big scissors. Kick-ass box soon forgotten.

Things I've learned about childcare from my sister #1

It is perfectly acceptable for a three-year-old, when not sticking or gluing, to watch up to eight hours of television a day, provided it's the Disney Channel*. If my sister even gets a hint that Kaydence is about to watch, say, Buffy the Vampire Slayer with me, all hell breaks loose (appropriately enough). Say what you want, Ces, but when the Hellmouth apocalypse rears its heavily-prosthetic-ed head, do you want a daughter whose able to assist the team and provide pithy quips, or whose only contribution is to suggest that we get out the Mouseket-tools?
Think on, Ceri. Think on.

*The only thing, the only thing worth watching that Kaydence is allowed to watch is a programme called My Friend Rabbit. The theme song is lovely and the animation (actual art work, not 3D primary-coloured nastiness) is gorgeous. Rock on Rabbit, and your quirky duckling friends.

The libary! The place where books are free!

http://www.scarygoround.com/

Tuesday is Libary Day, of course. Today I am returning the following.

Words

In Dubious Battle, John Steinbeck - is here.

The Ordeal of Gilbert Pinfold, Evelyn Waugh - "A disquieting, sharply comic novel which recounts a period of mental breakdown in the life of Gilbert Pinfold, inspired by Waughs period of what he calls his 'late lunacy'. This was weird and intense and sharp. Good though.

The Heart is a Lonley Hunter, Carson McCullers - Focuses on a deaf mute and the people he encounters in a 1930s mill town in Georgia. It created a literary sensation on publication, rising to the top of the bestseller lists in 1940 and was the first in a string of works by McCullers to give voice to the rejected, mistreated and oppressed. This was great, apart from the sad doctor and his boring daughter. I look forward to reading more.

A Spot of Bother, Mark Haddon - the second adult novel by the author of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time. More mental health issues and family values. This went on and on and on and had very little point. It could have happily been 100 pages shorter

Words and Pictures

The Museam Vaults, Marc-Antoine Mathieu - This is one of the greatest books I have ever read, ever. Totally beautiful, provoking and inspiring. I would love to read it in French.

The Best of American Splendor (2005), Harvey Pekar (and friends) - The usual from the usual suspects. Still good though.

Listen to Yourself.

How supergreat is this? Its from the algorith-tastic http://www.xkcd.com/



And is has led us to this nifty gadget on Youtube...

Heres some of how that all happened... oh comput-y giggles.

Tim Minchin - Are You Ready?

Last night I had one of the most enjoyable evenings I have had in a long time. While I may moan that I have moved to a town suffering some kind og culture-crunch, Maidenhead does have a rather nice Arts Center, thanks to £10 bagillion of lottery money it was awarded in 1999. The Arts Center was built in a set of old farm buildings next to the Sixth Form college I went to, and I used to do volunteer work there in the evenings. Now that I'm back in town, I'm back at the farm. Its a good place to work, having two theatre spaces and a cinema.

So last night Tim Minchin was performing his Edinburgh show "Ready for This?" in the big theatre down the farm. Tims show sold out across its Edinburgh run, and had some great reviews. My parents went to see it and loved it, but they laugh at everything. I'm not even sure if I like comedy, and I really don't make as much effort to go to stand-up stuff as I could. I'm generally worried that the pressure of expecting something to be funny will be too much for me, and I'll crack under said pressure and end up dissecting every joke, or, due to the fact that I sometimes find the oddest things funny beyond belief, I will end up laughing myself to near asphyxiation at, well, nothing really. Like when I nearly died at Kings Cross because Sam said "smelly mess" in a sentence.

I've not seen that much comedy, as a direct result of these two factors. The only comedian I have actively made an effort to go and see in the past was Dylan Moran, and while hes probably not the funniest chap in the world, hes just the kind of person I really enjoy spending time with. Working in Edinburgh the past two summers has put my comedy watching numbers through the roof (compared to the pre-Edinburgh count of (1). David O'Doherty is wonderful, Rick Shaperio is crazed, I've seen some mental Canadian comedian leap off stage and punch a cellist in the head, Jim Jeffries made me laugh a fair bit. I don't think I've ever seen a female comedian live, apart from at work (the supremely awful Marisa, and the quite funny-ish Judy Batalion, who was Jewish).

But Minchin... whats the deal with him? The deal is he's wonderful, and if you get a chance then certainly go and sit in his audience for a few hours. His comedy is full of whimsy, puns and digs at the things it feels good to dislike, like war, crooked politics and aromatherapy. Hes a reasonably talented musician, his comedy songs are glorious, and he has a wonderful singing voice. I think he shines in his stand-up moments, but the whole thing is like watching a wonderful mix of Rufus Wainwright and a well-medicated Bill Hicks.

You can watch some of his songs here on the youtube, and there isn't a mix-tape in the world that should be considered complete without his masterful musical work "If I Didn't have You" or his spoken work epic "Storm" or, my personal favorite (because I really bears) "Bears Don't Dig on Dancing". Don't be put off by his hair, its part of the game.

Thank you very much Mr Minchin. You're welcome round for a pot of tea anytime.

Hello Everybody!

My road trip buddy.
Ceri, Ben and a rouge flamenco dancer.

Something nice.

Living here in Maidenhead has its ups and downs, thats for sure. One of the worst things is having to find a job, because theres buggering nothing to do. At the moment I'm temping at a software company. In the process of procuring this job I had to ask my friend Lucy for a reference. Here is the reference she wrote.

I met Bethan at university five years ago and we have been good friends ever since. I feel that I can personally vouch for her honesty and integrity, as well as her infectious personality and excellent sense of humour. She has been a strong and consistent figure in my life for the past five years and I am glad to call her my friend.

Due to the practical nature of our degree course, I worked with Bethan on a number of projects including creating broadcast packages and making a magazine. She could always be relied on to be creative, productive and was always supportive of other people in any group work we did. She was also a very active member of the student community, often contributing to activities such as the student radio and newspaper, and continues to be very popular among fellow graduates of our course.

I would unreservedly recommend Bethan Hopkins for employment, and, were I recruiting for a position under my current role, would have no reservations about hiring her.

Well I was suitably touched by this, and it did indeed secure me my job, where, amongst other activities, I devote a certain amount of time to reading this, which I really enjoy. Its a little silly, with some campy costumes and a comfortingly familiar storyline, but the artwork is fantastic.

Bad news bears.

If you’re thinking about starting a blog, don’t. Paul Boutin says the "Age of the Solo Blogger" is over:
“Scroll down Technorati’s list of the top 100 blogs and you’ll find personal sites have been shoved aside by professional ones. Most are essentially online magazines: The Huffington Post. Engadget. TreeHugger. A stand-alone commentator can’t keep up with a team of pro writers cranking out up to 30 posts a day.”

Muskets at dawn, Boutin. 'Cos that sounds like fighting talk.

Happy Hallo-weiner.

My little sister Ceri is quite obsessed with the paranormal – she’s keen on ghosts, spirits and aliens. She also believes in these three things, based she says, on two ‘experiences’ she had when she was younger. Whenever she starts to talk about these ‘experiences’ and express frustration in my lack of belief in either ghosts, aliens or spirits, I assume what must be a frankly odd facial expression (very wide ‘Gosh’ eyes, slightly pursed ‘hmmm’ lips, and nod sagely, while muttering “It sounds like a very personal experience, hmmm”). Anyway, as part of this and the highly unfortunate scheduling of the modern calendar, I moved into her house just prior to Most Haunted Live Week. I have now logged close to eight hours of watching MHL with her, as they are in the middle of a week-long investigation special, which runs until Midnight on Friday - the commercially dubious Halloween.

MHL revolves around Ex-Blue Peter presenter Yvette Fielding, and her cameraman husband Karl. Ceri hates Karl with a viciousness which is far more interesting and rewarding to observe than anything which happens on screen. Her watching of MHL is punctuated by almost-fit like spasms of screaming “Fucking Karl! I ‘ate ‘im! Hes such a fucking faker!” and her quite wonderful "Karl being fake-scared by spirits" impressions. Yvette and the dreaded Karl are joined by the shows presenter, a round little man named Paul who looks like a builder dressed up in a shiny suit, and is personable and almost sweet; their ‘guest demonologist’ Brian; a sketch artist who draws the spirits in the room (whose name I cant remember), and a very frightening blonde historian lady.. This weeks investigation is taking place in an abandoned mental asylum in North Wales. The building is in a pretty serious state of decay, and looks, from the cutaway shots which pre and succeed each 15 minute live segment, pretty cool and darn scary. It is located in a simply huge village-type- complex area, as at one time the asylum was mostly self sufficient, and its out-buildings included chapels, blacksmiths, mills and barns. MHL goes on for HOURS. The premise behind MHL is to gather a studio audience of goths, chavs and stupid people, who in this case are seated in the asylums former ballroom, with Paul presiding over them, emcee-style, regailing them with snippety bits of history, and a hell of a lot of re-capping “We’ve heard noises, we’ve heard whispering, we’ve heard doors slamming” (he speaks just like that, lots of repetition of three and no adjectives) and a whole lot of build up to the nights experiment. Now, the experiments of the past three nights have included putting what looks like an oversized outdoor heater into a room and blasting out electricity, an experiment with a voodoo doll, and putting Karl (cue Ceri “Oh not fucking Karl!” into an isolation cell to commune with gosh knows what. Anyway, the build up and palaver goes on forever, before the investigation team venture off into that evening’s part of the building to... I don’t even know. Investigate. Which means they run around while we watch on nightvision cameras, while Yvette implores various spirits to
“Make some noise! Throw something! Copy me! Tap twice!” indispersed with moments where she shouts “Shh!! Did you hear that? What was that?” and it inevitably is the noise made by a camera or someone’s feet or a car outside.

So there is a bit of background to this most awful of shows. And here is the good news, I have been dutifully recapping during my hours spent watching this atrocity, and as part of a mighty Halloween blogathon, will aim to put up some highlights/best bits, and of course reveal any personal changes I may have made during this most eye-opening of personal experiences. But for now I leave you with this happy exchange

Ceri :“Arrgghhh!! Not Karl!! He always ruins everything. Nrrrgggh!
Beth : “Yeah. He’s a total berk. Let’s write to Yvette and tell her how unhappy he makes you. Lets kill him!! Let’s break into his house and spook him! Lets...”
Ceri : “Shhh!! Look, we missed a noise… that was… a noise! You’ve got to take this more seriously. OH SHUT UP KARL I HATE YOU!”

Pack up your troubles, come on, get happy...

There really is nothing like a good poster child, whether for a cause, a movement or a whole generation. And now we have one! Falling nicely into the cause category, the lovely Debbie Purdy is the new poster-girl for assisted suicide. And she is literally made of awesome. Debbie has MS, and is well aware that her quality of life, physical, mental and emotional states may, in the future, deteriorate past the point where she could say “Well huh, my boss hates me, they’ve discontinued my favourite lipstick shade and I can’t believe they’ve cancelled Alias, but at least I have my health”. So Debbies been in court recently, not really asking for much at all. In fact all Debbie wants from the courts is that they clarify the laws pertaining to assisted suicide. Clarify, not change. Debbie, quite rightly, is worried that when she makes her trip over to Switzerland to stock up on cuckoo clocks, munch some really good chocolate, and kill herself, her husband will be arrested on his return to England for breaking the law by assisting her peaceful death. Now, committing suicide is not illegal in this country, but the law is pretty clear that a person cannot help another person kill themselves.

In this case, Debbie, wanting to make sure she acts inside the law and wanting to also protect her husband, is simply asking the Director of Public Prosecutions to clearly set out all the circumstances in which a person may face prosecution; which a court today ruled was not going to happen. Currently, after an act is committed the courts review the actions and decide if they will prosecute. Come on, that’s totally lame. All Debbie wants is to be able to stay within the law and protect her family – but the law is stopping her do those things. Crazy. Now, the law, passed in 1968, had its last big moment in the spotlight in 2006, when a UK bill which would have made "physician-assisted suicide" legal was thrown out by the House of Lords. The debate over the issue was heightened (at the time) by the case of Diane Pretty, a motor neurone disease patient who fought a legal campaign to make her husband safe from prosecution should he help her to die. Not only did she lose her case, but the European Court of Human Rights ruled on 29 April that the refusal of the British courts to allow Diane Pretty's husband to help her to die did not contravene her human rights.

The law is in place for a reason, that’s for sure. Its there to help vulnerable people who risk becoming coerced into an assisted suicide. That seems fair enough. And yes, I guess the majority of laws are in place to protect vulnerable people, but sometimes the lines can become a little blurry (the classic Who Was at Fault? Humbert, Dolores, or Dolores crazy mother..?). Also Anti-euthanasia campaigners are worried that a change in the law might not only be abused but that it might lead to resources being diverted away from palliative care (the bit of medicine focused on alleviating the suffering of terminally-ill patients). But how about poor Debbie? She’s looking to end up in a really awkward position, where her choice is to either risk getting her husband locked up when he returns from taking her abroad to die, or taking the trip under her own steam, which means deciding when she has become ill enough to want to die, but not so ill as she requires assistance with, you know, carrying her bags or hailing a taxi.

Crazy. Anyway, although Debbie didn’t succeed in court today, she has been granted an appeal hearing, which at least shows an acceptance of the overwhelming public interest factor to the case.

Oh, and if you haven’t heard about Debbie today, it’s not your fault. All the worlds’ media has been taken up by Public Outrage, due to Russell Brand and Jonty Ross being Rude and Offensive. Now, lets be clear here 1) The BBC are not going to sack Russ and J-Ro, they make the BBC far too much money. 2) It wouldn’t make any difference if they did. Those two grinning loons would just carry on their infiltrations of our conscious on some other broadcasting frequency, with the added bonus of being so super-edgy that they were sacked from the BBC. 3) I honestly don’t care either way; I just didn’t want anybody to feel bad that they didn’t know about Debbie. Although it’s always fun to speculate how the BBC will tackle a public apology, a’la Richard Bacon.

In Dubious Battle, John Steinbeck.

In Dubious Battle is John Steinbeck’s second novel, finished in 1936. It is the story of fruit pickers in Southern California, who organize a mass strike of the seasons transitory apple pickers, with the hope that their demands for a more reasonable wage will not only be recognised by the apple growers, but also by the cotton farmers whom they will be working for after the apple season. It’s a fairly manly book, which charts the political development of its characters, and the physical and emotional struggles they face surviving in their strikers’ camp. I love John Steinbeck. The man actually managed to write two of my favourite books in the whole world – Sweet Thursday – which is just awesome, and Tortilla Flat – which contains one of my favourite scenes in all literature. The books hero, Danny, is thrown a party which is so magnificent that he gets completely, amazingly drunk, challenges all the men in the village to a fight, and then dies falling down a cliff. I cant remember the actual quote, buts its something along the lines of “Whenever people remembered and talked of that party, the stories got more fantastic and more incredible, until it was widely believed that on that night, wolves had bayed at the moon, the earth had exhaled and clouds had split and written Danny in blood across the sky”. That’s total paraphrasing though. Well beyond paraphrase in fact. Sorry Steiners. It also has a great description of Henri the Painter, which runs somewhat along these lines “Henri the painter was not French, and his name was not Henri. He was also no longer a painter, for he had so long schooled himself in the schisms of the left-bank – eagerly embracing each movement as it emerged – that before long he had given up paint entirely”. Awesome. Anyway, Stieners managed to write two of my favourite books, although these are considered by critics to be his “fun” books, and far inferior to his “not-fun” books like The Grapes of Wrath and the much less popular In Dubious Battle. Although, the majority of Steinbeck’s work deals with the same themes, in the same settings – I mean the man writes almost exclusively about conflict and struggles of working man in 1920’s Southern California. He certainly hasn’t written any books about, oh I don’t know, a mad inventor who builds a ray which accidentally shrinks down his children and next-door neighbours, not only resulting in a missed fishing trip and family bonding session, but in a near-death encounter between his anaphylactic-shock-prone son and a giant bee – so if the subject matter is mainly the same, then I guess taking out all the colour makes something a “not-fun” book, and therefore “better”. That’s not really fair though, the difference between the sets of books is that the protagonists in the “fun” books are not prepared to make sacrifices in order to improve their lives, where as in the “not-fun” books they are. I have been happily working my way through the Steinbeck’s over the years, and am generally delighted by them all. In Dubious Battle is a staggering, powerful book. It’s fairly bleak, and is basically a very, very long conversation between varieties of 40-year-old men of various vocations, but it’s still pretty darn amazing. Oh, and the title comes from Paradise Lost, courtesy of Mr Milton.

Innumerable force of Spirits armed,
That durst dislike his reign,
and, me preferring,His utmost power with adverse power opposed
In dubious battle on the plains of Heaven,
And shook His throne.

The Good Life (movie)

So I was interested in watching this film for a couple of reasons...

1) It stars the very sweet Mark Webber, who wrote and produced and possibly directed Explicit Ills, which features the heart-wrenchingly beautiful Paul Dano, who I am ever so slightly in love with.

2) It was written and directed by Steve Berra, who was (possibly still is) a proffesional skateboarder who used to skate for Toy Machine and DVS. The Good Life was screened at Sundance in 2007, which means Berra is (so far) the only professional athlete ever to have written and directed a film that was accepted into competition at Sundance. Well done Steve.

I appreciate that these are kind of stupid reasons to search out and watch a film, and a waste of time I could have spent watching Hogan Knows Best reruns and eating cheese spread, but since I went to all this trouble, I guess I could mention a few things I thought about it.

Its a nice film. Its certainly well directed and without exception the performances are pretty outstanding. The script is kind of lame in places, in a slightly cringy, cliche ridden way, but real life conversations are often like that anyway. Its a film that should have a seriously awesome soundtrack, but if it does I didn't notice it. Its the sort of film girls would like, but the female characters really don't get represented in the most positive of lights.

So... whats the stupid film about? According to IMDB, its "A story about a mostly normal young man who makes the most out of fitting in when he obviously doesn't.
Plot: A young man (Mark Webber) is encouraged by a new friend (Zooey Deschanel) to cope with living in a town where he doesn't necessarily fit in".

So there. Well done Steve. And you're a brave man for marrying Juliette Lewis, even if it was just for a while. Well done Steve.

Something for everyone...

Jeffrey Lewis is a pretty cool guy. He does lots of things which I like... he takes photos, he makes documentaries and he released the album 12 Crass Songs, a collection of songs by the legendary anarchist punk band Crass, reworked into folk, rock, psychedelic, orchestral and electronica productions. The other thing he does well is comic books - particularly "Wobblies! A Graphic History of the Industrial Workers of the World" which you can still buy, here -http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/1844675254/ref=pd_ecc_rvi_1/103-9766775-4160607?%5Fencoding=UTF8&v=glance

Its pretty expensive, but still cool.

I'm getting the hang of this, I believe.

I like this..

(From Jurassic Park) A custom system with millions of
lines of code controlling a multimillion dollar theme
park can be operated by a 13 year old who has seen a
Unix system before. Seeing an operating system means you
know how to run any application on that system, even custom apps.
    What OS was it really running?
           (1) "These are super computers".  A CrayOS?
           (2) "Quicktime movie, Apple logo, trash can."  MacOS?
           (3) "Reboot. System ready. C:\"  DOS?
           (4) "Hey, this is Unix.  I know this"  Unix?
The computers in Jurassic Park were Cray supercomputers running
the MacOS as a graphical shell of DOS all layered on top of a
Unix base.

Its from here -  http://nand.net/~demaria/hollywood.txt

Oh the possibilites... and pictures too.

Hey it can do pictures too... I like this picture. Its two setlists from two bands that I love love love. I saw them cuddled up together on the corner of the stage the morning after a gig. (the setlists, not the bands in question).

This seemed like a good idea at the time..

My friend Simon seems to have a new blog. So in admirable "anything you can do/hey whats that cool kid got I want one!" I now have one too. I used to keep a blog of sorts on the myspace, where I wittered on about bands and shoes and transcribed conversations I had had with people - and now I can do that again! Here! Hazzah!
Also I now live with my sister and her 3 year old daughter, whose name is Cadence, and I have to look after her a fair bit, which I've never done before and I guess in the spirit of new experiences, I could throw caution to the wind and try out a bit of blogging again.
But mostly I'm doing this because someone else I know did it first.