Gavin and Stacey

We started watching the BBC Comedy series Gavin and Stacey tonight, getting through the first two episodes of Series 1 via Amazon Prime. My younger daughter was watching some of the later episodes while she was home over the Christmas break and my wife had seen one of these and thought it looked like a programme we would both enjoy. Hence us watching it tonight. And on the basis of the two episodes we have seen so far it certainly is. All of the characters have their own uniquely funny attributes and seem very well observed and it is a programme that doesn’t try too hard to be funny all the time, instead mixing various flavors of humour with wry observation and even pathos.

When I messaged my daughter to tell her we had started watching the series she asked me to let her know if I start to have a favourite character, a comment which made me ponder 1) who her favourite character is and 2) whether there was a character that she thought I would find particularly amusing. I have to say that although he has only played a small role in each of the first two episodes I have a sneaking suspicion that Rob Brydon’s character ‘Uncle Bryn’ will turn out to be the one. I also have a feeling that we’ll be watching more episodes over the weekend and probably hitting Series 2 before we know it…

Coffee Ripples

My teaching at the Marine Station for the ‘Our Ocean Planet’ module finished early this morning and so on my way back through town I took a few minutes to stop for a coffee and to work through and write down some thoughts I have been having about the need for me to find more time for creative projects (aka research) at work. Amongst these projects is a piece of work I would like to do looking at the development of bedforms (sand ripples) in time-varying flows – these might be sand ripples formed by the wind or sand ripples on the seabed formed by currents, including reversing currents such as tides and, perhaps, waves (although the spatial scales are quite different and so the details of the sediment transport processes might be very different and require a different model). This is an area of work that I was into yonks* ago. I have a pretty clear idea of the approach I want to take, I just need to knuckle down and try things out.

Anyway, I was sitting there writing in my notebook about creative projects and ripples with my cup of coffee (Americano) in front of me on a small table. This table had a bit of a wobble and I guess I was moving my body in some manner that caused the table to rock gently from side-to-side. I only realised this because when I looked up and looked at my coffee I was confronted with a pattern of lines (like ripples) in the surface…

These lines were aligned with the direction that the table was rocking (i.e. the table was rocking left-right as I looked at it and the pattern in the coffee was aligned front-back). It was a lovely, and fortuitous, example of pattern formation in nature of exactly the kind that I was thinking about. To try to extend things further I turned the coffee cup through 90 degrees and then deliberately set about rocking the table. I was hoping to make a new set of lines appear but at 90 degrees to the previous ones. The experiment was only partially successful. I broke up the existing pattern and saw some signs of new lines appearing…

…but I think my deliberate rocking was more forceful than my accidental rocking and I didn’t quite have the patience to make things work really nicely. Apart from anything else the coffee was getting cold and so I started to drink it. I think in my second picture you can see signs of a new pattern of lines aligned with the cup handle this time, but they haven’t completely redistributed or replaced the previous pattern.

This post nicely demonstrates both the pleasure and peril of being an inquisitive, scientifically-minded person. On the one hand, there is a rich world to discover in every single thing you do. On the other hand, it becomes impossible to simply sit and enjoy a cup of coffee without asking questions about what is going on!

*yonks = many years in case you have not come across this term before

Six Goals… three disallowed goals, two post hits and a saved penalty

I had a most enjoyable evening this evening watching my football team, Plymouth Argyle, beat AFC Wimbledon 4-2. After a terrible start to the season which brought just one win and two draws in the first twelve or so games Argyle’s form since October has been nothing short of remarkable. At first, the improvement was built on grit and determination – it was hard to watch but reassuringly effective. Now they are playing with attacking flair and swagger on a scale that I have hardly seen in the 25+ years I have been a regular at Home Park. Tonight, especially in the first half they looked like they could score every time they attacked with slick, fast and skillful play carving open the Wimbledon defence. But, it takes two teams to make a good game and Wimbledon had certainly not come to sit back and admire Argyle’s play, throwing men forward quickly and causing Argyle’s unusually hesitant defence a lot of problems. In particular, they made good use of the fact that their goalkeeper had what was probably the longest kick that I have seen from a ‘keeper.

Argyle scored first. Wimbledon equalized, but then Argyle took the lead again almost instantly with an absolute screamer of a goal from the edge of the area after a corner was headed clear. A third goal for Argyle just before half-time gave them a comfortable lead that was deserved on attacking quality if not entirely convincing. The second half was a more scrappy affair and Wimbledon scored a second, although the goal was really a complete gift after a monumental cock-up between an Argyle defender and goalkeeper. At that point the game looked like it might be in the balance. Argyle then scored a cracking fourth goal which ought to have been game over but then gave away a penalty, which, fortunately, was saved, sparing us a very dodgy end to the game. As well as the six goals and the saved penalty, there were three ‘goals’ disallowed for offside (2-1 to Argyle) and both teams hit the post in the first 5 minutes of the game. Overall, then, it was a thoroughly entertaining spectacle and the night ended with Argyle up to 8th place in the league and only 3 points off the play-off places.

I always like evening games but there haven’t been so many of them this season. Tonight’s game was billed as the last evening game before the renovation of the old Grandstand and so I thought I would capture that little piece of ‘history’ with a photo, taken before the game as the two teams lined up…

Snow in Plymouth

Situated as it is in the southwest corner of the UK, in the path of relatively warm ocean currents (Gulf Stream/North Atlantic Drift), Plymouth experiences a generally mild and wet climate. We do get freezing conditions at times but you can probably count the number of days of heavy frost, icy pavements etc. each year on the fingers of one hand. This means that when it snows in Plymouth it is an occasion of great excitement. In fact, the local newspaper website goes apoplectic at the prospect of a few flakes of the white stuff as if this will be the start of a ‘The Day After Tomorrow’-like big freeze bringing everything to a halt and catastrophe at every turn. But the fact of the matter is that it simply doesn’t snow in Plymouth, ever, at least not such that you would ever notice…

…so imagine my surprise when I woke up late this morning (my cold has really taken hold now and I am off work) and looked out of the window to see the ground covered in the white stuff. Actually, ‘surprise’ isn’t quite the right word (neither is ‘covered’ now I come to re-read that last phrase) – ‘amusement’ would be a better one, because the local paper had finally got its wish and it HAD finally snowed in Plymouth. Look, here’s the (albeit slightly melted) proof:

A Day Of Anaesthetic… for the modern man

After just over four days of feeling like I have been fighting off a cold, coupled with my decision to keep on running regardless, today I have been sneezing, snuffling, constantly blowing my nose and generally feeling sorry for myself. In some ways I’m not too disappointed that the cold has broken out with full force because that should hasten an end to it and Sunday [today] is probably the best day to be feeling really grotty. The other thing about Sundays, or at least many Sundays at this time of their year, is that there is a more or less constant stream of football on the television and so I have been able to plant myself on the sofa and let the world turn away whilst Aston Villa, Birmingham City, Newcastle United, Manchester United, Southampton and Liverpool battle it out in front of me (not all at the same time obviously).

I enjoy watching football a lot, but I have often thought that the glut of football on TV these days is a form of anaesthetic for the modern man (and woman of course). No matter what is going on in life it is possible to kick back on the sofa watching whatever match is on with a level of interest that fluctuates from ‘minimal’ to ‘fully engaged’ as the play ebbs and flows. It’s possible to forget whatever else is happening and have the illusion that you are doing something. Interaction with the real world becomes unnecessary and the senses dulled unless/until some player does something a little extraordinary (I saw 5 goals in total today and I would say that two of these fell into that category).

My view of TV football as anaesthetic for the modern man is usually something I see as a negative, even when I am the one partaking in the ‘drug’, but today it was just what I needed – I wasn’t much good for anything more challenging or active and it gave me a ‘sort of purpose’.

And Conor Hourihane’s goal for Aston Villa and Mo Salah’s for Liverpool were rather good ones…

Running Through a Cold

Since last Tuesday I have been feeling decidedly like I am fighting off some kind of cold. It started with an irritating cough and rapidly became a general overall achey body feeling and tiredness. What I didn’t know was whether, how and/or when these symptoms would mutate into something more serious, but I certainly didn’t want to let them cause a break in my streak of running 25+ miles each week, a streak that I had managed to maintain for the first five weeks of 2018. The problem was that I had only run 4.1 miles on Tuesday leaving me with about 21 still to do – if I ended up out of action for a few days that would be curtains for the streak. So I was worried (and also not particularly wanting to feel worse than I already did). So…

On Thursday evening, despite the fact that I had had a busy day at work and it was dark and raining by the time I got home, I bit the bullet, grabbed my running kit and pushed myself out for a run, hoping to do 7-8 miles but realising that my body might protest and I might only manage 3 or 4. If I hit my target then I’d hopefully be well enough to get to 25 in one go over the weekend and if I only managed the latter then I’d have to consider running little bits on Friday, Saturday and Sunday if I could manage it. The nightmare scenario was that I’d make myself worse and be out of action completely.

Fortunately, things went pretty well. I completed my 7.8 mile circuit and although it loosened my cold up a bit and the coughing and spluttering increased somewhat I didn’t tire especially quickly on the run itself and I didn’t seem to have made myself much worse. My gamble had paid off and my weekly target was still in reach.

Then, this morning (Saturday), not feeling any better and with pretty foul weather (wet and blustery), I decided to chance my luck again. I need to complete just over 13 miles and figured that I was better going for it on one run such that if the effort knocked me out for a few days at least I would have my completed target to comfort me. I also felt that there was an outside chance that keeping active might actually make me stronger and keep the cold at bay. I planned my route so that if I got to 6-7 miles and felt to rough to continue I could cut back towards home for a total of around 9 miles but if I was still going okay I would press on. It was quite a tough run. As I headed west along Plymouth’s waterfront at around the 8 mile mark I found myself battling a strong headwind and squally rain. I nearly lost my cap a couple of times and ended up running bent forwards to reduce the impact of the wind and with one hand on the brim of my cap to ward off the wind gusts. Fortunately, the later part of the run saw me in more sheltered streets and the rain eased off a bit. But the problem with most of my runs is that the last couple of miles are invariably uphill because, you’ve guessed it, I live on a hill… The result of this today was that I rather plodded my way home and once I was about a mile from the end my brain started to shut me down a bit in an attempt to persuade my body that it was done. Still, I made it, 13.5 miles at an average pace of 10:10 per mile which isn’t too shabby all things considered.

I’ve been tired today since I got in and I think my cold has developed a bit. My throat is more sore and there have been a few spectacular sneezes but I suspect this development might have happened anyway; hopefully my gamble hasn’t made things worse. So far, I feel like my decision to keep going has been a good one and, best of all, my 25 miles per week streak has made it to six weeks. I’ve got a couple of days rest now and then hopefully I’ll be back out on the pavements on Tuesday, looking to push in towards seven weeks in a row, cold permitting of course.

Eating an Orange

I have just eaten an orange. If you think that this is nothing extraordinary then you have obviously never witnessed this act. For me, eating an orange is something of a ritual. First, there is selection of the orange itself and of a suitable knife to cut it, remove the peel and then remove the pith. A small serrated blade is my implement of choice…

Then comes a small cut, about 1.5cm down from the stalk angled diagonally into the peel towards the stalk and about 2-3 cm in length. It is absolutely crucial at this stage not to cut into the flesh of the orange (ABSOLUTELY crucial). After this it is a job for the fingers to remove the peel in as large pieces as possible, all the time trying to maximise the amount of pith removed and minimise damage to the flesh. I’d get upset if I broke into the flesh at this point…

Then it is back to knife work, gently scraping and levering any remaining pith away and trying to end up with a minimally pith covered and minimally flesh damage fruit. Something like this…

In truth, the above photographic example (which is from the orange I just ate) is not a perfect example. I have become better recently at slightly relaxing my standards.

Finally, it is a matter of diving in with fingers again, separating out the segments as neatly as possible and eating them as I go along. This is where the reward for my ritual lies, although sometimes there is great disappointment when the orange turns out to be on the dry side or the segments rip open spraying juice all over me and anything else in the vicinity.

Just for the record, the orange I just ate was wonderfully juicy and deliciously flavoured. Well worth the effort.

The Naming of the Dead (Ian Rankin)

Last night, finally, after rather too long a time, I finished reading the 16th (I think) novel in Ian Rankin’s Rebus series: The Naming of the Dead. Unsurprisingly, the book was classic Rankin/Rebus – Edinburgh crime, social commentary, Rebus breaking rules – but in some ways this story was a little different from others in the series in that in the final analysis the secrets to the crimes were more stumbled upon than solved through clever detective work. I enjoyed the book – like anything by another of my much-read authors Bernard Cornwell, Rankin’s Rebus novels are in the ‘never fail to deliver category’, but for some reason, or reasons, I rather struggled to get through it, taking over a month, a decidedly sluggish rate of progress through a book for me.

I think that to some extent I have slipped out of the habit of reading in the evening before I sleep. For example, today I have already lost 25 minutes of my pre-sleep reading time to doing the washing up and now to writing this blog entry. The real killer is making the mistake of ‘just watching’ the 10pm News headlines on the TV, something that can easily extend to watching the whole news programme, and the local news and weather and then the national weather that follows it – that can blow 40 minutes in one go (and results in exposure to a huge amount of incredibly depressing information). So, as much as possible, I try to avoid the news. And from now on I am going to really try to get reading as soon after 10pm as I can. To help with this, and as a counterpoint to the wet, windy and cold weather we are experiencing at the moment, my next book is taking me to Sicily for another slice of Inspector Montalbano. In Montalbano’s world of crime the sun is always shining, the weather is always warm and, most importantly, there is a vast amount of sumptuous Sicilian food to read about. It’s going to be delicious.

Northern Lights (Philip Pullman)

Years and years ago I read Philip Pullman’s trilogy ‘His Dark Materials’ and thought it was wonderful. I particularly liked the concept of daemons, the plain-dwelling animals that use tree nuts as wheels and the description of death which comes, I think, in the third book. I have always wanted to re-read the books but with so many other works to get through it seems like a missed opportunity to use reading time for a repeat reading rather than of something new. I have also listened to audiobook versions of at least some of the books (I can’t remember whether I got all the way through) but lost those versions. So, recently, I decided to try the audiobooks again and bought the first volume, Northern Lights, via the Audible platform.

It has taken me a while, listening as I walk to and from work most days, but today I completed Northern Lights. I have to say that whilst I think the story is tremendous, I think I would prefer to have read the book myself. I liked the general narration by Philip Pullman himself but I found some of the character voices, particularly those of the children and Lyra, to be rather annoying. However, I know that listening to these books is probably the only way that I can get through them in a reasonable timespan so this minor annoyance is just something I will have to put up with. I can’t decide whether to crack straight on with the second book, The Subtle Knife, or to give myself a break. It probably makes sense to go straight on with the series to get continuity in the story. I can sort of remember what happens next but I found many elements of Northern Lights that I had forgotten about so hopefully things will continue in that vein. One thing I felt from this listening was that I was surprised how much the finer points of the story are explained as it goes along. My recollection of reading the books was that a lot of things remain a bit puzzling, but that didn’t seem to be the case although my recollection may relate more to the final parts of the final book which I remember being all a bit complex and difficult to fully grasp. It will be interesting to see if that remains the case.