Sunday is fencing day! For the whole zoo, at that... While I'm off at MIT sports center in Cambridge fighting Nerds With Swords (which sadly, doesn't rhyme half as well as Dorks With Sporks -- or in the Welsh Students Union, Geeks With Leeks), my little critters stay at home romping about with surplus equipment.
I'm going to be trying out my shiny new saber jacket and mask, so Le Poulpe (pictured) is left with the epee opposite Gus the Magnificent with his single-molecule-edge sharp Incisors of Certain Death. Braa will take on the victor with his secret weapon -- his little brother Gojira, who has recently come over from Japan. Photos of bloody carnage to follow.
Vibram Fivefingers... They certainly look bizarre yet they're oddly comfortable. The point of the design is to approximate barefoot running; apparently it's all the rage. Of course you need special socks that have separate toes too. Putting them is not easy, toes aren't used to being separated from their siblings!
Incidentally, these (the shoes, that is) are not mine (the feet are) -- I'm just playing the role of international merchandise relay station -- but I'm almost tempted to get myself a pair.
Before I rave about my bread machine, I want to rave about my workspace. It is TEH AWESUM.
Space space space. Equipment. Two 24 " monitors (one of them on an articulated arm thing so I can move it around and -- crucially -- turn it towards the couch from whence to watch movies in ultimate comfort), Bose Companion II sound system (pumping old school Massive Attack trip hop ambient at the moment, for optimal brain focus), rational cable management for minimal clutter, side table (inset) with water purifier/tank, tea brewing station (I'm cutting down on coffee) and A3-format printer (here it is very important to avoid mixing up printer cartridges and tea containers, as Earl Grey does not do contrast very well regardless of paper quality).
There's also an amazing Wacom graphic tablet stashed (for protection when not in use) in the pull-out drawer under the printer table. But that's more for Play than for Work. Even though Work is Play too, really.
Voila. A blog post, as requested. So what if it wasn't informative? At least I might have made one or two of you jealous ;-D
It's not that I can't cook, or that I won't cook. I can actually whip up a pretty decent meal when I decide to -- and more importantly, when I've had the foresight to stock up on ingredients that are meant to go together. The rest of the time, well... yeah, I do things to food, but I wouldn't necessarily call it cooking. Surely the, uh, element of improvisation, and the randomness of the ingredients that come together in my hands in these occasions, disqualify me from any such pretension.
An example, you ask?
Eh. As I write this, I'm chomping on my latest offense against gastronomy, which I assembled at 4 am from the twin dead zones that are my pantry and refrigerator.
I was going to write a proper blog post, giving in to the recent influx of demands from my audience of three (well, I know of at least three vocal members -- who knows how many more are lurking in the silent faceless mass?).
Then I came across this NHS-sponsored video of doctor and Grauniad columnist extraordinaire Ben Goldacre, MD, explaining the wonders and implications of the placebo effect. There's nothing I could say that could top it in terms of clarity and public interest, so I'll bow out for now and leave the stage to my betters. Ben, take it away.