Looking for Quakers in all the wrong places

I think I've previously written about Quakers (or the Religious Society of Friends) in at least one of my blogs.

Some time ago I read a memoir written by a Quaker that was all about the life lessons he'd learnt growing up in that faith community.

I liked what I read, so I borrowed books about Quakerism from my library.  These books were all old, and contained writings from various Quaker preachers, adherents and philosophers over the past few hundred years - up to about the 1920s.

I didn't read anywhere near enough to become an expert on the subject, but I read enough to realise that I liked this version of Christianity.

I grew up in a Pentecostal denomination that I found too intense, confining and (let's face it) delusional.  I came to Anglicanism because I (perhaps ironically) found it was a simpler, cleaner version of Christianity than the one I grew up with.

Yeah, I know, it's supposed to work the other way:  Flee the crusty old Church with it's crusty old liturgy and find freedom in the Pentecostal movement.

There's no pretensions in the Anglican Church.  They know they weren't founded by some prophet who knew the One Right Way to fulfil the will of God.  They're just jobbing Christians, getting on with it.  There's something beautiful about that.

It's what I needed them to be in order to give my own Christian faith a shot in the arm.

But the Quakers offered something else.  Something I found highly attractive - enforced simplicity.

Take away all of the guff that surrounds Christianity and focus on the very basics.  Be still and listen.  Look for the best in each other, try to do what's right.  Simplicity.  Equality.  Charity.  Integrity.  Peace.

This was a version of Christianity I really wanted to connect with.  It seemed like a great way to really get to the heart of what Christianity is all about:  Following the example of Christ and learning from his teachings as you try to build a closer relationship with God.

The first Quaker service I ever attended was a great experience.  I really enjoyed it.  After the service itself there was a "bull session" of sorts where we mulled over one of the Advices and Queries that specifically asked what role Christ played in our lives.

The second Quaker service made it clear that Christ doesn't play a big role in the lives of many Quakers in Australia.  It seems today's Quakers are so fond of diversity that believing in Christ is optional.  In fact, there seemed to be a sense that Christianity makes people uncomfortable, so it's downplayed as much as possible.  That first service I attended was something of an anomaly.

Look up the websites of the major Quaker organisations in Australia, New Zealand and the UK and see how long it takes you to find a reference to Christianity.  The fact that the RSoF is a Christian denomination is hardly shouted from the rooftops.

The "elder" of the Meeting I attended even said she often feels a bit funny attending inter-denominational Church gatherings, because Quakers aren't really part of the Church any more.

Christ-centered Quakers are, apparently, a particular interest group within the movement.  In fact, in other parts of the world they seem to be a new movement in themselves.

Which makes me wonder where someone like me goes?

I'm looking for the dirt basic Quaker faith that Rufus Jones wrote about in the 1920s.  I'm not interested in something that has shifted away from it's own foundations.  I'm also not interested in something that's trying to revive a revivalist movement.  Even if I was, I can only work within a limited geographical area.

I just want to find the Quakers of old.

Potentially brilliant idea: People lockers

Okay, this one is either going to earn someone a million dollars (probably not me), or just be one of the silliest things I've ever thought of in my life.  Or, someone else is already doing it and I'm just late to the party:

Lockers for people.

You know how you can go to various public places and "rent" a locker for your bags, so they can be safely stored while you go off and do sundry things unencumbered by your goods and chattels?

What it if was possible to rent a locker the size of a narrow single bed, so you could lock yourself away for a nap?

I'm not talking about a pod hotel, or any of that sort of thing.  This won't have any "amenities".  Just a bed - more or less in a cupboard - and about as much head-clearance as you'd get on the bottom bunk of a set of bunk beds.

Singapore's Pod Hotel

Kind of like the really budget level rooms you can find in the Pod Hotel in Singapore, but not actually a hotel.  And way downmarket.  You'd find these things attached to gyms and train stations, or on university campuses.  Or in the same sorts of places you'd find laundromats.

I see it as being something so basic that it wouldn't even involve sheets.  The mattress would be covered in some sort of vinyl that could be easily wiped clean by an attendant.  You can bring your own sleeping bag/liner and travel pillow if you want niceties, or rent something from the attendant.

This isn't for a proper overnight stay, either.  This is for that siesta-type sleep.  You'd hire the locker for half an hour or an hour, lock yourself in the cupboard for a short kip, then use the nearby public "washroom" to freshen up before going back to work or tackling the afternoon's classes.

I've often felt that buildings need nap rooms.

Sometimes you just really need to crash for twenty minutes or so in order to keep functioning somewhat coherently during the day, but there's nowhere really to do that.

In Southern Europe, everyone goes home for two hours at lunchtime in order to get that mid-day snooze into the system, but those of us who were colonised by Britain only get about an hour or so for lunch - and with commute times and what have you, that isn't enough time to get home, let alone eat lunch and catch a nap.

But, if these little nap pods existed, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to just have a sleeping bag at your desk and hire a locker for your nap break.

The Box

So, yesterday I fell in love with a plywood box.

You know how sometimes you walk into a shop, pick something up, and never want to put it down again?  But then you have to leave the shop eventually so you end up buying it - even if it's ridiculously overpriced?

Yeah.

I had that moment yesterday with a plywood box.

I walked into Arties Music shop to see if they had any travel ukuleles, and walked out with an overpriced wooden box.

They didn't have any travel ukes, by the way.

Not that it matters, I can't afford one after buying the box.

It is a lovely box, though.  So nice to hold.  And it's so much fun to play with.  It's a bit hard trying to explain to normal people that you're a bit tired because you were up late playing with a wooden box, but that's life.

Derby!

So, I went to watch a roller derby match on the weekend.

I loved it.

Not in the "I have to join a roller derby team right this minute!" kind of way, but in the "hey, this sport is a bucket of fun to watch and I should watch it more often!" kind of way.

Now, it is entirely possible that I can discover a new sport without completely obsessing about it for the next few months but, you know, my record isn't good.

Fair warning, and all.

Two plans

My problem is that I have two plans (possibly three).  They cannot occur at the same time in the same universe.  I can't decide between the two of them, and spend most of my days favouring one or the other, but never fully settling on either of them.


Plan Number 1:  Buy an investment property on the Sunshine Coast

I would particularly like a townhouse or something, but with my budget I'll settle for a unit.  The idea is to rent it out while I'm not living/working in the area, and use the rent to help pay off the mortgage while I use the fact that it's an investment property to get any repairs and maintenance as a tax write-off.

Eventually, I'd be looking to get a job in the area and move down into the place I already have while I think about whether or not I want to trade up for a real house or something.

Good plan, eh?


Plan Number 2:  Buy a house in Brownsville and fix it up

With my budget, I'd have to buy a fixer-upper, but still - you can get a whole house in the 'Ville for less than it would cost to buy a unit on the Sunshine Coast.

I'd make it presentable, then rent out the rooms to international students (they're usually only here for 6 months to a year, so if we don't get along all that well I don't have to wait long before they leave).  The rent from the students would to towards paying off the mortgage and I'll probably end up paying that off much more quickly than I would a more expensive unit down south.

Good plan, eh?


The trouble with Plan Number 1

It's, like, totally far away.  I wouldn't be able to keep as good an eye on the place as I would if I actually lived there, and I'd have to ask my family in the region if they could take care of it for me, which is a bit burdensome for them.

Plus, I wouldn't be able to live it it for some time.  It would technically be my "first home", so I'd never qualify for any of the "first home buyers" grants or things in the future, but you don't qualify for them anyway if you don't live in the place - they don't count for investment properties.

I'd be forever putting myself out of contention for any "first home" related stuff, and I wouldn't even get the joy of living in my first home.

So, not the best plan.


The trouble with Plan Number 2

While it would be really nice to stop living with my family for a while (I never intended to stay so long when I came back from Tasmania), it does seem a bit silly to have the three of us each living on our own.

At the moment, I'm the "back up" for my mother and uncle.  If either of them need someone to take care of things while they're away or otherwise occupied, I'm there to do it.  If I get my own place, that will just make multiple houses to worry about during holidays and such.

Plus, I'd be pouring money into a fixer-upper that I could be saving up towards a bigger deposit on a better property later.

And I want to move down south eventually, anyway.  Staying in the 'Ville isn't my long-term plan, and I want to shift everyone down to the South-East Corner so they can be closer to the rest of their brothers and sisters.

So, not the best plan.


So, what's Plan Number 3?

To wait a bit, save up some more money for a deposit and see what everything looks like a year from now.


The trouble with Plan Number 3

"Waiting" has a strange habit of turning into "stagnating".  It's really easy to slide into "no plan at all".

Stupid big-wheeled bicycle

The more I ride my Brompton around, the more I'm convinced that all "normal" bicycles are just plain silly.

I rode one of my "normal" bikes to work today for the first time in ages as I felt the need to get some practice in on a 26-inch wheeled bike ahead of my cycling tour in New Zealand later in a few weeks time.

As always happens when I ride a "normal" bike after months of noodling around town on a Brompton, I spent the whole trip going through thoughts like this:

"Mannnn, these wheels are so huge, and they roll so slowly!"
"Why is this bike so heavy?"
"What the heck is this top-tube even for?  All it's doing is getting in the dang way..."

No, seriously, why do we have top-tubes on bikes?  And why are they so dang high?  Is there some benefit (outside of racing) over a step-through bike?

And why, is it more common to have lower top-tubes on women's bikes than men's?  Don't men have a greater reason to want to avoid coming into sudden contact with a metal pole positioned at groin level (should a sudden stop cause them to move forward)?

Honestly, the smart thing to do would be to make step-through models the norm for all bikes that don't need the extra stability for racing purposes.

Anyway, where was I?  Oh, yeah.  "Normal" bikes are weird.

The Worst House in the Street

I was looking at a house the other day that was in a location I’d never really paid much attention to before. 

Driving up the main street of the area has never filled me with much confidence, but once you get into the back streets the neighbourhood actually looks kind of nice.  And it’s about 1km from the River (nice) and about 1km from a botanical garden (nice) and close to shops (nice) and close to take-away food outlets (nice) and walking distance from the club I sometimes go to for dinner (nice) which has a lawn bowls club attached to it (noice)…

So, in other words, I really like the place.  I particularly liked the fact that it honestly looks like it would be easier for me to run to work from there than drive.  There’s a rather conveniently located footbridge which makes getting to work on foot about a 4km trip, while driving would be closer to 10km.

The house looks kind of nice, from the agency photos, and the outside doesn’t look bad, in passing.

And it’s in my price range, and it’s had new paintwork and carpets done “recently” (whatever that means, in real estate parlance), so I probably wouldn’t have to fix it up at all.

There’s only one problem:  The house right next door.

I think it’s a good sign when the house you are looking at is the worst house on the street.  Once it’s yours, you can do something about it.  You can make it the best house on the street.

However, if the house next-door or across the road is the worst house on the street, there’s nothing you can do about that – it’s practically part of your house, and you’re stuck with it.

I don’t know who lives there.  I’ve not seen them, and the yard doesn’t show any signs of couches or car parts on the lawn (it also doesn’t show any signs of watering, but that’s beside the point), and maybe they’re perfectly nice neighbours…

But they are the kind of people who don’t believe in nice curtains.  Standing in front of the house I noticed a tatty rag in one window, broken blinds at two others and part of a cardboard box acting as a sun-block for a fourth.

So the house needs a paint job and the yard needs a good water.  These things in themselves and on their own are not indicative of poor quality people.  A lack of decent window dressings, on the other hand, makes me instinctively distrust them.

Nice people have nice curtains.  They may not be expensive ones, they may not be backed or anything fancy – but they are intact and they look like they are meant to be in the window.

Do you know who has cardboard boxes and rags in their windows?  Unpleasant people.  That’s who.  The kind of people who don’t care if their kids our out doing unpleasant things like graffitiing the neighbourhood and doing burn-outs in cars of dubious road-worthiness.  The kinds of people who play unpleasant music at unpleasant volumes.  The kinds of people who have unpleasant conversations in unpleasant tones of voice that cannot be tuned out.

It’s the worst house on the street, and my inner snob is sure it must play home to the worst neighbours in the area.

The house on the other side looks nice at first glance, but it has besser blocks scattered around its garden at random intervals.  They aren’t even set upright so they look like they’re meant to be decorative.  What’s with that?

I don’t know if I’m going to go to the open house on the weekend.

This is a house!

No, seriously, this is a house:

Not a mothership.  Definitely a house.

Because, you know, houses look like this.

And so homely and relaxing...!

Not at all like an autopsy room in a mothership.

And, for the bargain price of 14 million dollars, it can be all yours!

Monorail, monorail, monorail!

Gfgbeach

My vision for the future of Townsville includes a monorail.

I want a whole elevated rail network,  but I specifically want monorail connecting the island to the mainland. Not one of those dorky circular monorails like Sydney used to have,  which only went in one direction so you wouldn't bother taking it if you wanted to go to the stop behind you.  This would be a point-to-point monorail that goes back and forth between Picnic Bay,  Cape Palaranda and some place near Kissing Point. There will probably be a couple of stops along the way, as well.

If possible, you'd set it back from the coast-line so that people on the monorail could get a good view of the beaches, but people on the beaches wouldn't have their eye-line ruined by a monorail.

Now, ideally, I'd like to see this meet up with a stop on the greater elevated rail network: a simple, but well designed light rail network crisscrossing the city at first-floor level. Stops would be located at every major shopping center and landmark (like the hospital and the university),with other stops at regular intervals along the way.

So, in theory, you could take the "sky tram" from the uni to the Nathan Street interchange (handily located adjacent to Stockland's roof-top car park), switch to the line that goes to Kissing  Point, and then catch the monorail to the island.

The great thing about an elevated network is it could be erected over existing roads, streets and drains. We have a lot of open space running throughout the city for storm drainage, and an elevated rail network will be able to take advantage of those spaces without impeding the flood waters too badly.

Part of my vision involves making sure that the monorail and the trams used for the network are pretty. I don't want some ugly, utilitarian looking eyesore spreading over the city.  Make the rail network a feature of the town, so that the tourist love looking at it as much as the locals love using it.

So, vote one, Sharon B, because a vote for Sharon is a vote for monorails.

The "Cup of Tea Cake"

I keep trying to make a Cup of Tea Cake.  I haven't quite got the balance right, but I feel I must persevere with this particular baked what-not as it's bound to become my go-to cake for all basic cakage needs - if only I can just get the proportions nailed.

The Cup of Tea Cake is know in my family as "Aunty Molly's Cup of Tea Cake", named after a great (and now deceased) aunt on my paternal grandfather's side.

I recently found similar recipes in a cook book, and felt compelled to start playing with it.

But it's such a finicky thing.  I know it can be done.  I know it can be nice.  One of my aunts makes it regularly.

It's so very, very simple... but like many "simple" recipes that house-wives of yesteryear used to make with their eyes closed, there's a knack to it.

The fact that I'm using gluten free flours (and experimenting with different brands) means I've got a lot more work to do before I find my knack.

The thing with a Cup of Tea Cake is that it only has one source of liquid - a cup of strong black tea.

You soak a cup of mixed fruit and half-a-cup of sugar overnight in a cup of strong black tea, and then you add a tea-spoon of bicarb or baking powder and some flour.  Then you pour it into a greased and lined/floured loaf tin/ring cake tin and cook it in a moderate oven for 45-60 minutes.

So, easy.  One night you chuck the fruit and tea into a bowl.  Then next night you through some flour into the mix and put it in a pan.  Voilà:  Cake.

I've never quite been able to get the mix right, though.

Getting the amount of flour just right has proven to be my main challenge.  The recipe my aunt dictated to my mother over the phone involves two cups of flour.  The recipes I've found in books ask for one.  I suspect with my gluten free flours, 1.5 is probably closer to the mark.

And I also suspect (although I've only recently had this thought) that it might be vitally important to use the exact same cup for all measurements.  At first I was being a bit overzealous with the amount of dried fruit, and just pouring in the better part of a packet rather than measuring it out.

As you would expect from a cake that doesn't have any milk, eggs or butter in it (perfect for vegans!), it's naturally a bit dry and need some "spread" to make it just right, but the excessive dried fruit was actually making it gluggy.  So, keep it to a cup.

There's another version that replaces the tea with black coffee and the mixed fruit with chopped dried dates.  I've had a bit more success with that one, but I suspect that's the dates invoking some sort of magic.

I'm going to keep trying it.  One day I'll get the knack, and then I'll have a nice, easy, lazy cake thing.

UPDATE, 2/4/2015:

For my money, the best combination is two cups of dried fruit soaked overnight in one cup of strong black tea, then mix in one cup of flour.  The 1-1 ratio of tea and flour works really well after soaking into two cups of dried fruit overnight.

Brisbane CityCycle Sucks

So, I'm visiting Brisbane at the moment, constantly walking past racks of CityCycle bicycles that are there for the taking...

... just not if you're only in town for the day and have no intention of signing up to a system that's barely user friendly for long-term residents.

The whole Go Card thing for public transport is already terribly unfriendly for visitors, why is taking a bike even more user unfriendly?

There are just too many steps involved, it's unnecessarily complicated, and if you happened to have a Go Card on you it can be used on the bike system - but only if you sign up for a 3 month subscription that (as a visitor for the day) you will *never* use.

I have a Go Card in my hand.  I have a strong desire to use this service that is in front of me.  Why is The City standing in my way?

I sometimes think Brisbane doesn't want you to visit.  Either live here and get with the programme, or stay out.

One club

So, I bought a golf club the other day.

Not the place where you go to play golf, just the thing you use to hit the ball.

And only one.  A 6-iron.

Why would I do such a thing?  Danged if I know.

It was $5 from Cash Converters.  I picked it up and it felt good in my hands.  What more reason do you need to buy a golf club?

This, ladies and gentlemen, is why I suck at de-cluttering:  because I am attracted to clutter like a moth to a flame.

Fortunately I'm getting slightly better at throwing it out later.

Actually, I did kind of have a reason for buying the club.

Some time ago I stumbled across an article about one club golf and I liked the sound of that.

Watching golf is about on par* in the "can this be any more boring?" stakes as test cricket.  Yet, having recently become enamored with other "target ball" sports (like petanque and lawn bowls), I realise I'd probably enjoy it if I played it.

I mean, golf links always look like a pleasant place to spend an afternoon, and I'm okay with a little bit of "hitting things with sticks" as a means to pass the time.

It's just... Man that sport has a lot of crap - and most of it is expensive.  I already have a sport that gives me the opportunity to buy expensive crap and carry it around for no good reason.  I decided ages ago that what I'm looking for in any new activities I take up is "less crap than fencing".

Yes, I do love the crap that comes with fencing.  Swords, masks, sword-proof pants... what's not to love?  But that's enough.

So, the idea of lugging around a bag full of these club things just seems unpleasant.  And, it must be said, the idea of looking meaningfully down a stretch of grass and saying "I wonder if I should use a 4 or 5 iron here?" just seems a bit too... well... "introverted".

Yeah, that sounds like a polite way to put it.  "Introverted".

But a single club?  I can deal with that.  Walking around a nice park with a stick, hitting a ball towards a hole...  It sounds like minigolf, only bigger.

So, when I walked into Cash Converters to kill some time, and noticed they had a bunch of second hand clubs for $5 each, I thought "why not?"

Now all I have to do is find a golf course that doesn't have fees that make my eyes water.


*Bad golf pun not originally intended, but left in once noticed.

"Owner says sell!"

I go through a real estate phase every couple of years or so.  I hit a point where I think I must surely try to own a house or something, and start looking at what's on the market.

I start out with something resembling an idea of what I want.  Then I start getting all sorts of "great" ideas.  Then I confuse myself horribly, and end up deciding the easiest thing to do is Nothing At All (otherwise known as "waiting").

The trouble is I don't actually have to buy anything.  I'm not moving to a new town, no one is kicking me out of the place where I live right now and I'm an only child, so the chances that I'll inherit property at some point are pretty high.

Without the incentive to hurry up and buy something, I don't actually need to buy anything... so I can "wait" until I find something I really want to buy.

Of course, I don't know what I want.  I never know what I want.  I want lots of things, and then I don't want them at all.  I'm about as decisive as a Magic 8 Ball stuck on "Maybe".  I dither with the best of them.

Plus, after a few weeks of reading property advertisements, I start getting the distinct impression that all real estate agents are a bunch of dorks.

Have you ever read what real estate agents write in their ads?  Much of it can be evenly divided between the following categories:

• Obfuscation
• Pointless Stupidity
• "Why would you bother saying that?"
• "Did you ever think of proofreading your work before paying to have it published?"

I always want to slap the agent whenever I read the words "Owner says sell!" at the top of an ad.

Well, duh!  I would hope the owner told you to sell their house - otherwise this advertisement is completely inappropriate.  

And since when has the fact that the owner wants to sell their property become a marketable feature of the property?  You don't see "manufacturers say sell!" written on socks and hosiery.

I read an ad for a house the other day that proudly boasted "duel driveways".  Does that mean the driveways are duelling with each other, or do we use the driveways for duels?  

"Pistols at dawn on the southern driveway!"

Why would I want to buy a house from these people?

"Poor Sharon's Skirt"

I own a skirt.

At the moment, it's officially just the one.

I've been going through my stuff lately and slowly identifying things that are just taking up space in my home which should be released into the wild in the hope that someone else actually uses them.

It's kind of connected to the yurt thing I was talking about on my other blog - I have too much crap I don't need and I don't use, so I'm trying to think about what I would actually take with me if I had to downscale to a yurt, and then asking myself very seriously whether anything I wouldn't take with me is worth keeping at all.

Recently, two of my skirts bit the dust.  I've been keeping them because I feel I should own skirts.  I haven't been wearing them because they don't meet my skirtage needs.

I wear pants, most of the time.  Actually, jeans.  I'm a denim girl.

What I require from an item of clothing is a very specific (and apparently highly unfashionable) list:

• Hard wearing
• Fit to move around and do stuff
• Reasonably modest (as in, I don't like showing too much skin on legs, shoulders or torso)
• Likely to avoid falling down/riding up/exposing underwear
• With pockets

I don't necessarily need pockets for shirts and blouses, but pants and skirts need pockets.

So, what I want from a skirt is something sturdy, below the knee, likely to keep my underwear safely under my outerwear at all times, and equipped with storage options.

I currently have one skirt that matches that criteria, so I currently have one skirt.  The other skirts failed on the "hard wearing" or "has pockets" front, so I never wore them.  After several years of never wearing them, I have decided to set them free.

I would like to replace them with skirts I actually would wear, but I can't find any in the shops.  They're all either too flimsy for my liking or too short.  I just want a good, serviceable denim or cotton skirt (with pockets) that goes past my knees.  Apparently I'm asking for too much.

As for the remaining skirt, I've decided I really should try to wear it occasionally - if for no other reason that I'm sick of hearing surprised cries of "you're wearing a skirt!" every time I do wear it.

Part of the reason I rarely wear skirts is the fact that I rarely find a skirt I actually want to wear.  The biggest part of the reason is the fact that I hate having my clothing pointed out to me as if I'm doing something unspeakably radical just because I'm dressed "like a girl" for a change.

Yes, I'm wearing a skirt.  I'm allowed to do that.  I understand women fought for several decades in the middle of the last century to give us the freedom to wear whatever the hell we want.  I sincerely hope that one day men will be able to earn the same right.

I wore my skirt to work last week and managed to be in the building for all of five minutes before someone decided to point it out to me.  This prompted a friend of mine to lament "poor Sharon's skirt!"

Poor Sharon's skirt, indeed.

Human Powered Pentathlon...

I'm of two minds about the Modern Pentathlon.

On the one hand, it is surely one of the coolest sports on the planet.

I mean, cross-country running, swimming, fencing, horse-riding and pistol shooting?  What's not to love?

On the other hand:  Horse-riding and pistol shooting?  What is this, the Roaring Twenties?  Who can afford that kind of crap in this day and age?

And do you have any idea how difficult it is to take up gun-sports in Australia?  We aren't America, you know.  After our last major mass shooting incident we put in laws restricting gun ownership and use.

I caught some of the Youth Olympics this year and noticed they use laser guns instead of actual pistols for some of the Modern Pentathlon events.  That is somehow both very cool and slightly disappointing.  I mean, what's the point of a target sport that doesn't leave a mark on the target?

What I want to know is why there isn't a completely human powered alternative.

I know the idea of the Modern Pentathlon was to create a sport that encapsulated the skills necessary for a soldier at the turn of the 20th century, but can't we play with the format a little?

I'm not saying we should get rid of, alter or replace the MP, just that we should create a new variation to cater for those of us who aren't quite so Light Horse Brigade.  There can be the Modern Penthathlon and there can be the Human Powered Penthathlon.

The Human Powered Penthathlon could keep the cross-country running, swimming and fencing, but replace the pistol shooting with archery and the horse riding with cyclo-cross.  So, basically a really muddy triathlon with archery and fencing added for good measure.

If we move the swimming event into a "lake", we can do the whole thing in one open-air location.

Okay, technically cyclo-cross is a winter game and the rest of the MP belongs in the summer roster, but I think that a) it can cope with the move, and b) it's not like cyclo-cross is currently in the Winter Olympic Games or anything anyway.

It should be though.

Pyeongchang, are you listening to me?  Stick cyclo-cross in the roster for the Winter Olympic Games.

Do it.

Are you thinking of buying a Brompton?

As mentioned in my previous post, I’m thinking about buying some more folding bikes.  I’m thinking about getting an IF Mode (because it looks pretty), and/or a Strida (because it looks funky).  I don’t really have a good reason to buy another folding bike, apart from a slight case of BAS* (much like my rather tragic case of MIAS**) that has plagued me for years, although I have managed to keep it largely in check.

As I’ve been thinking about these bikes, I’ve been indulging in some very similar behaviour to what I was doing back when I was researching my first folding bike – that is, cruising the internet to find other peoples’ opinions and reflections on their bikes.

And I started thinking about what past me would ask present me about buying a Brompton, and what advice present me would give to past me on this topic.

I’ve had my Brompton folding bicycle for around two years now, and I think I’m in a good position to go back in time and give myself some advice.  It’s not actually much use to me, as my time machine hasn’t arrived in the post yet, but hopefully it will be useful to something else.

Why did I buy a Brompton? 

Well, I was originally planning some glorious holiday that would involve riding a bike all over Europe, and I wanted a bike that would travel well.  The original idea was to use a train or a bus to travel the large distances and use a bike to travel the short ones, so I wanted a bike that could easily be taken on a train.

My research led me to two bikes, the Brompton and Bike Friday’s World Tourist.  I poked around, I read some reviews, I asked some questions.  The people who had experience of both said the Bike Friday was the hardier bike of the two, and probably the best suited to touring, but that the Brompton did a better job of fitting in the luggage section of a bus should you decide to catch busses more frequently than you thought you might.

My attempts to test-ride a World Tourist failed miserably when the bike shop I arranged a test-ride through decided actually making sure they had the bike in stock was too much hard work.  But I did get to test-ride a Brompton and I didn’t mind it at all.

Besides, I secretly wanted the Brompton anyway – the fold was just the coolest thing out there.  YouTube clips of the BF had nothing on the Brompton’s fold – and I wouldn’t have to dismantle the bike to put it on a plane or train, which was a big plus for someone who is very good at losing screws.

Bottom line, the Brompton had the best fold on the market, as far as I could see, and it was one of the bikes that was frequently mentioned as a touring machine.

What model of Brompton did I buy?

I got the P6R, which means I had the “P” shaped handle bars, with six gears and a rear rack (with the little wheels on it).  I also got the Schwalbe Marathon PLUS tyres, for the puncture resistance.

I bought this because it was recommended for touring.  The “P” handle bars give you a bit of flexibility with your hand positions and were (at the time) the tallest handles in the bunch.  Six gears gives you a decent range of options for travelling long flat straights and hills.  A rear rack is always useful and the little wheels meant I could convert the bike into a “trolley” and take it into shops with me.

What accessories did I get?

I bought the cover and bag, the B-bag and the folding basket at the same time as the bike from the same shop.  From a different store I also bought a T-bag and a Carradice Camper longflap saddlebag.  Eventually I also bought the telescopic seat pillar.

If you went back in time, would you do it again?

Buy the Brompton?  Absolutely.  I love that bike and it's now my primary commuter.

But...

I never took it "touring" (although I have bundled it in the boot of my car to take on holidays), and I made some key decisions based on a "maybe I'll do this" that I never did.  There are some things I'd do differently.

What would I do just the same?

I'd still get the 6 geared version.  I'm pretty much a six-gear girl - even when I have more gears on my bike, I'll only use about four of them.  Occasionally I'll kick into a slightly higher gear or a granny gear depending on the road, so 6 gears suits me just fine.

I've not had a puncture yet, so the tyres are okay.

I'd still get the rack with the wheels because it's convenient for pushing the bike around when it's folded (although the little wheels do get black stuff on the back of my legs while I'm riding).

I'd still by the cover and bag - that thing is worth it's wait in gold.  It's the accessory I use every single day.  The bag stays on the bike and I keep my lights in the bag to make sure they're close at hand, and whenever I take the bike into my house or my office (which is all the time) I put the cover on it.  A) it keeps bike related dirt of everything else, B) it makes it all look like a bag sitting in the corner of the room, rather than a bike.

The other accessory I use fairly regularly is the T-bag.  I put my clothes in there when I'm commuting, and I usually use it to carry my repair kit and lock/chain and such.

I'd probably also get the basket again, even though I hardly use it, just because you don't always want a huge stuff-sack every time you go out on a bike.

If I could check in on an alternate universe, I wouldn't mind seeing if there's a version of me who bought the C-bag instead of the T-bag and basket to see if I could have gotten away with just getting the one bag, but I'm pretty happy with those two bag thingies.

What would I do differently?

I'd test-ride an H-bar before settling on the P-bar.  Yeah, there's less space to move your hands around, but it's taller.  It wasn't available when I was looking, so obviously this doesn't benefit past me at all - but if you're thinking of a Brompton this is worth considering.  Occasionally I find the level of the P-bar is just a little be lower than I'd like it to be, and a more upright stance would be nice.

I would just buy the extended or telescopic seat post right from the very beginning.  I was at the top end of the standard seat post in the test-ride in the shop, and wondered if I should go higher.  I should have gone higher.  Much knee pain could have been avoided if I'd opted for flexibility.  The extended would probably have been fine - I don't actually need the extra height of the telescopic one, I just decided to get the most flexible post possible after spending a year cursing the short one.

I would hold off on buying the B-bag or the Carradice saddle bag until the bike tour was something that was definitely happening, rather than something I'd like to do.  These bags have both been sitting in a cupboard doing nothing at all for two years.

Since I'm probably just going to keep using the Brompton exactly as I have been using it and hire bicycles for overseas tours, kitting myself out for a tour was a waste of money.

Lesson learned - buy only what you need for right now (especially if it's going to cost just as much to buy something later as it would to buy it now).  Add other stuff later when you actually have a confirmed use for it.

What other nuggets of advice could I pass on?

Well, the thing with the little wheels on the rack for one - the black rubber leaves marks on the back of your legs.  It just does, and will keep doing it (two years later, no change).  Plan your clothing accordingly.

Another thing is, the back tyre will go down if you keep the bike completely folded while it's not in use.  I thought there was a problem with the tyre, wheel or tube and spent a bit of money having bike people look at it.  Eventually I realised it's just because the frame of the bike is putting pressure on the tyre while it's folded.

You just need to remember the back wheel will need to be pumped up more often than you may, at first, expect.  If you've had it folded for a few days, you'll definitely need to fix the pressure before riding anywhere.

There's a bit of flex to the bike that's a bit strange at first - you bob around a bit if you don't get the "sweet spot" in terms of cadence.  Go up a gear and you should be okay.

Would I use the Brompton for touring?

I don't know.

To be perfectly honest, I'm more likely to hire a bike at my destination.  Whenever I think of taking the Brompton with me on a big trip, and the percentage of my luggage it would take up, and the fact that I don't trust baggage handlers to not break everything, I can't help but think it's all just too much bother.

I've quite successfully hired bikes in the past, so...

I might eventually take it for sojourns around Australia - as in, take a train to X and then ride around X on the Brompton.  Maybe.  I don't know.  I'll see.  I'll probably never put it on a plane, though.

If I did take it for serious touring, I probably wouldn't use the B-bag.  I'd go for a chubby cyclone bike trailer (https://www.radicaldesign.nl/en/products/bicycle-trailers/cyclone/cyclone-iv-chubby) - something else that wasn't in existence when I bought my bike, but came out shortly afterwards.  Sure, it's hideously expensive, but it's a trailer that fits the bike inside it - and you can get a "carry system" that lets you carry the darn thing on your back.  What more could you want from luggage?

This is another reason for why you should hold off buying anything until you actually need it:  You never know if something better is going to come along.


*BAS = Bike Acquisition Syndrome
**MIAS = Musical Instrument Acquisition Syndrome

Little wheels

Okay, don't tell anyone this, but after all those deep and meaningful thoughts last week about freeing myself from the clutter of old unicycles, I just spent an hour I was supposed to be working on an assignment looking up reviews of the Strida.

Because, you know, you can never have too many bicycles - especially if they a) look like "art", and b) fold into compact packages.

Yes, I know, I was only recently drooling over the IF Mode, wondering if I could justify having that in my life.

The answer:  Sure, I don't see why not, but perhaps later.

Why would I want a Strida?  After all, I already own a Brompton, which does the folding bike thing, and a Micro scooter, which does the quick-short-range-don't-fuss-so-much-commute thing.

Well, to be honest, mostly because it looks like penny-farthing.

Okay, granted, it looks nothing like a penny-farthing - but it looks like it would steer and handle much like a penny-farthing.  The way the handle-bars are practically in your lap and your centre of gravity and steering axis are practically in the same place...

That's how penny-farthings ride.

All right, yes, I already own a PF as well, so I've kind of got that covered, too.

But I'd be able to take a Strida out more often and to more places than the PF, which would give me more practice steering the tall bike without worrying about the whole "technically illegal to ride on streets due to a lack of brakes" thing.

Plus, you know, you can never have too many bicycles...

  

Can you see it?

Momentous decisions

I've made a momentous decision.  One that cuts ties with the dreams and aspirations of the past and opens the way forward to a future unburdened by the clutter of a life no longer mine.

I'm going to sell my unicycles.

I realised today that it has been at least five years - probably closer to six - since I last attempted to ride them.  When I bought them I was in my late 20s, obsessed with circuses and keen to turn my life around.  No more would I be an overweight, bookish couch potato.  I would be someone who was active and adventurous and rode unicycles.

Well, I did turn my life around.  I am active and adventurous.  And being the person who owned unicycles helped me on this journey.  I am where I am now because I once thought trying to ride a unicycle seemed like a good idea.

However, I never quite nailed it.  I got to the point where I could occasionally (but not often) mount without holding onto something, and I could amble around a car park or the paths at my local park for some distance.  And I progressed to the point where I came off the unicycle on purpose 9 times out of 10 and rarely hurt myself any more...

But I didn't stick with it long enough to become a fluent rider.  And, if I didn't do that in my late 20s, what are the odds I'm going to suddenly get back into it in my mid-30s?

Looking back, it was just too much hard work.  And I have so many other toys and obsessions that have whisked my attention away since then.  While I still appreciate all things circus, I'm less obsessed now - and less likely to try running away to join a troupe.

So now my unicycles are really souvenirs of a life I wanted to live, once.  And as souvenirs go, they take up a bit of space.

Time to lose the clutter, and let them go fill someone else's dreams for a while.  I still have a penny-farthing, and that will do me for now.

Not really all that useful

When I'm particularly stressed out, or starting to feel in a blue funk (two things that often go together), I often find my thoughts turn to redecorating and/or exercise programmes.

I have to say that I also think of these things when I'm not feeling particularly stressed, but when I'm stressed out they seem to loom larger in my mind.

It's like I have 101 things to do and I don't know where to start - so thinking about moving the cupboard to the opposite side of the bedroom seems an appropriate response.

Or I have a bunch of assignments and some stuff for work coming up, so I suddenly want to take up body building.

(Well, no.  I don't actually want to take up body building.  I want to do one of those things actors do before filming a superhero movie where they hire a personal trainer and spend six weeks in an intensive exercise/diet programme and end up looking impossibly muscly and uber fit for the duration of the movie... and then go back to living a normal life.

It just sounds like a fun thing to do - go all out with the fitness thing for a couple of months, get plenty of photographic evidence, and then say "been there, done that - icecream!" and forget all that craziness.)

Instead I'm just cleaning stuff when I should be studying and doing push-ups whenever I can't concentrate on what I'm supposed to be reading.  And thinking about rearranging the furniture in two bedrooms.

I know why I'm doing it.  It's a way to delude myself that I have some control over what's going on in my life.  It's an instant gratification thing:  I can see my environment is more orderly, I can feel the effect of physical exercise.  I know I am having a direct influence on my world and making it "better"...

And at the same time I'm not facing the things I should be doing right now.

It's being useful, while at the same time not being useful.

Minigolf and Mazes

Coming off my last post about minigolf establishments, a minigolf center is now right up there on my "I'd like to do this when I'm rich" list with a maze complex.  In fact, it’s probably much easier than a maze complex.  I could probably put a minigolf centre on the block of land I eventually intend to turn into a maze complex and use it to earn some money to go towards constructing the mazes.

Then I will own a space that has lovely gardens, a maze complex and a minigolf centre on the outside, a room that contains a miniature village with model trains on the inside and a lovely teahouse where people can have Devonshire Teas and book the pretty spaces for weddings and such.

Or I could put the minigolf centre (with its small, neat gardens, a garden railway and a small teahouse) on a smaller block of land somewhere else in town while I’m working on the maze complex (with its formal gardens and bigger, classier teahouse) in another part of town (or in a neighbouring town) and have deals and things where people who visit one get a discount on the other.

I wouldn’t do any of this here, in this city, of course.  It’s my dream to buy a big block of land in a small town (where the land is cheaper) and use this complex to bring some tourism dollars into the place.  I keep thinking that if I’m smart enough I can make places that can fulfil a few needs at the same time, and therefore not make myself completely broke while chasing this dream.

A place for the locals to go for lunch or coffee.  A place for people to book for parties and weddings.  A place that encourages tourists to stop and spend some money/time in the region.

I love these sorts of places, and they seem so obvious and easy to execute that I don’t know why more small towns don’t have them.  I’ll probably find out the hard way.

Beverages

I've recently discovered Campari.  I tried it once back when I was 18 or 19 and didn't like it much, but now it suits my tastes quite nicely.

In particular, I quite like a Campari and orange.  It's simple, it tastes nice, it's okay as it moves closer to room temperature and it doesn't have that much alcohol in it, compared to other alcoholic beverages - making it perfect for the kind of person who likes to nurse a single drink for the evening and doesn't usually drink much alcohol.

You know how you want a "my drink"?  Something that is fairly reliable that you can order in social occasions and feel confident that you're not going to regret wasting money on something you don't actually want to finish?

Well, at the moment I think a Campari and orange might very well be "my drink".

The Minigolf Offensive

The main entry to the local showgrounds lies directly opposite a minigolf establishment.

I should really say *the* minigolf establishment as it’s the only one in town.  It may very well be the only one in the region.  To the best of my knowledge, none of the neighbouring towns have minigolf… places.

What do you call the location where one plays minigolf?  Is it a field?  A park?  A centre?  Greens?  “Minigolf greens” sounds silly, but so does “minigolf links”.  It’s certainly not a club – you don’t join it, you just turn up and play.

I’m going to go with “centre”.  It’s a nice generic word that could mean almost anything (except, perhaps, “circumference”, “fringe” or “periphery”).

Anyway, as I was saying, I believe our minigolf centre is the only minigolf centre in the region.  It has been there for at least a decade and a half – possibly two decades.  I remember going there at east once when I was in high school.  I went again about seven or eight years ago for a party.  And I visited for the third (fourth?) time in my life this year, when I went to the Show.

I have often thought of going there again over the years, but I’m one of those lazy people who never visit places in their own town.

On this occasion I walked out of the showgrounds and noticed the centre was open, and thought I may as well go in and play.  Now, I have actually been to a couple of other minigolf centres while on holidays, so this wasn’t the third (fourth?) time I’ve ever played the game, just the third (fourth?) time I’ve been to this particular establishment. 

The last two (three?) times I didn’t really pay any attention to the grounds or the design of the place.  This time I couldn’t help it.  

The current owners had taken one of the two courses out of action and replaced it with a rather sad combination of messy-construction site and unused jumping castle.  The remaining course was in a severe state of disrepair.

The fake turf on the greens was ripped and fraying.  Many of the original obstacles had been removed and either replaced with common garden ornaments (as in, terracotta pots and those little stone temple thingies), or simply hadn’t been replaced at all.  Everything was so worn and dilapidated that you couldn’t help but note how simply it had all been put together in the first place – and how simply it could have been repaired.

Sure, there was a few thousand dollars worth of hardware involved in fixing the place up – but this is a business, for goodness’ sake.  If you can’t invest a few thousand dollars in maintaining the grounds that your livelihood depends on, then what is the point of you?  Why are you doing this if you are going to do it so badly?

But I noticed something while I was going around the course.  I noticed how simply it had all been done in the first place.

This was a space no bigger than some of the back yards in the old suburbs.  Parts of the grounds were just lawn and gardens:  some nice spots to sit with a drink or a picnic and a pergola with a barbeque for parties.

The actual “links” (or whatever you call them) were just a bit of clever landscaping, really.  A strip of concrete with a hole at one end (a bit of plumbing pipe), covered in fake turf and made “interesting” with the inclusion of obstacles.  Some plants or mini-rock gardens separated the links from each other to create a sense that each was is own little space, and the use of a bit of raised dirt and steps gave it some different levels and made it a bit more varied.

And the original obstacles weren’t even that clever.  They were much more clever than their common-garden replacements, but they were basically blocks of painted wood with holes cut in strategic places, or sculptures with a bit of tubing running through them.  It was the paint (now quite worn and faded) that made them look interesting in the first place.

Looking at this sad, dilapidated excuse for an activity centre, I suddenly realised just how easy it would be to make your own.

Seriously.  I want to make one now.  

Almost a musical

I’m on a bit of a Disney kick at the moment, so you’ll either have to ride it out with me or come back later when I’ll be obsessing over something else.

I’ve been trying to work out exactly what it was about Frozen that left me feeling a little flat.  I mean, apart from the panic about an “eternal winter” that didn’t even last a whole afternoon before people were forming possies.

I think it was because it disappointed me as a musical.  It started of with so much promise:  An ensemble piece, the solos, the duet… It looked like it was shaping up to be a worthy companion to Beauty and the Beast.

But then it dropped the ball, musically speaking.  I couldn’t help but feel it was missing a few key numbers.  Where was Elsa’s song about wishing she could love and be loved?  Where was Kristoff’s song about “man this girl is annoying, but she kind of grows on you”?  Where was a nice big number (either a solo, duet on ensemble) about how real love can make a real difference (if not earlier in the piece, it totally should have been in that part where Anna works out what an act of love is all about and Elsa realises how to thaw the kingdom).

Yeah, the “fixer-upper” song was kind of that… only it really, really wasn’t.

What was with that waste of an ensemble?  We had the ice song at the beginning (good start), then the trolls’ number just past the half-way mark, but what about a nice, juicy “hey, it’s beginning to snow!” from the townsfolk at the start of the *cough* eternal winter and a nice big riff on the “do you want to build a snowman” theme at the end?

Can you imagine what the film would have been like if it had ended with the entire cast and ensemble singing “come out and play?”

Have you ever seen the stage version of Beauty and the Beast?  Unlike other adaptations of movies to stage musicals, nothing much needed to be altered to take that film from the screen to the stage.  The original animated film was just a well crafted musical and, because of that, it translated really well from one medium to another.

You wouldn’t be able to do that with Frozen – or with Tangled for that matter.  As much as I loved Tangled, it was also pretty undernourished as a musical.

Quite frankly, I think Pocahontas was a better musical than any of the more recent Disney films.  That’s not meant to imply that I think poorly about Pocahontas and am comparing the more recent stuff with something unfavourable.  I loved Pocahontas so much I actually bought the sound track, and still occasionally burst out with “I look once more – just around the river bend – beyond the shore…”

But that movie is almost 20 years old.  Name one Disney animation from the past two decades that could hold a candle, musically speaking to Pocahontas, let along be in the same league as Beauty and the Beast or The Lion King?

I think Frozen could have done it.  It showed promise.  And then it didn’t live up to that promise, which is such a bummer.

I know it sounds like I hated that film, but I was really just disappointed by it.  It had moments of being almost great, but it was never actually as great as it could have been.

Tennis + Soccer = Tenner?

One of my biggest problems is the fact that I keep coming up with stupid ideas for games that would probably be totally awesome... but I don't know anyone who would be dumb enough to play with me.

I was watching hurling the other day (a truly wonderful game - I tell you, those Irish kids really know how to play) when I had another one of my "how would you play that if you didn't have any of the right stuff?" moments.

This is the same urge that makes me want to create a cut-down version of Gaelic Football to run on a normal soccer pitch.  And it is fraught with the same problems.  Sure, I could easily come up with rules and things, but then I'd need to convince people to play it - and, quite frankly, I just don't know any people.

Well, I know a couple of people, but they're really boring and don't go in for crazy sport crap.

Anyway, one thought lead to another and eventually this came to me:

"Do you know what would be awesome?  Soccer, but played with a tennis ball and tennis racquets."

Hurling is, you see, essentially Gaelic football played with what looks like a softball and some deformed hockey sticks.  Apart from the ball itself and what you physically do with it, the games are basically the same.  You play on the same space, following the same rules regarding things like free shots and all that, and you score the same way for the same number of points.

So, if you carried this principle over to soccer, essentially everything would be the same, except you'd have a tennis ball and people would be whacking it across the pitch instead of kicking it.

Following hurling's lead, you would be able to catch the ball in your hand, and but you have to hit it to another player (either with your racquet or with an open palm or a closed fist).  You wouldn't be able to take more than three steps with the ball in your hand, but you could run as far as you like while balancing or bouncing it on your racquet.

Other players wouldn't be able to hit your body with their racquets, but trying to knock the ball off your racquet would be fair game.

Quite frankly, I think this game would be a bucket of fun to watch and play.

You'd need a soccer pitch (every town has one), tennis racquets (easy enough to get), tennis balls (preferably some colour other than green - but still perfectly obtainable) and possibly helmets of some description (unlike hockey, the racquets will be flailing about at head height, so the odds of getting hit in the head would be high).

All of these things are doable.  This game could be played tomorrow.

I offer it to whoever is willing to make it work.  Especially if you send me a link to the Youtube footage.  Go forth and play - and try to come up with a better name than "tenner".

Plastic wood and brass

This is something I think about occasionally:

I have recorders, right?  They used to be made out of wood (okay, the "good" ones still are), but now they're made out of plastic.

I also have a fife made out of plastic.  Those things used to be metal (okay, the "good" ones still are).

I've seen tin whistles made out of plastic.  Those things used to be made of tin, I think (okay, the "good" ones still are).

And I also own a number of plastic mouthpieces for sundry brass instruments.  And when I say sundry, I mean sundry - I have mouthpieces for French horns, euphoniums and mellophones - I've never played any of these instruments.  Heck, I've never even been in the same room as a mellophone.  Let's just say I'm a sucker for a sale item.

Anyway, the point is I have bits of brass instruments that are made out of plastic which were once made out of brass, or something very much like brass (okay, the "good" ones still are).  The same company that made my plastic mouthpieces are now also selling plastic clarinet barrels - once made of wood, I believe...

And I've just discovered that student level clarinets are almost entirely made out of plastic.  Except for one company which is proudly declaring they make theirs out of rubber.  Ooookay.

So, if cheap but functional wind instruments and brass bits can be made out of plastic, why aren't there more plastic "brass" and "woodwind" instruments in the world?

Well, there kind of are.  You can buy a flute made out of the same ABS plastic as the clarinets, which is cheaper than a flute made out silver-plated metal (ooh, there's an interesting concept - using plastic for a "woodwind" instrument that's normally made out of metal).  You can also get trumpets made of ABS plastic.  And someone is manufacturing plastic trombones.  They come in different colours, so you can get a flute in electric blue or a purple trumpet.  Who wouldn't want one of those?

Good luck finding them in a shop.  The student market for instruments seems to be all stitched up with cheap metal instruments that are still more expensive than the plastic stuff.  And, as someone who owns a cheap metal instrument, I really wish it was made out of plastic - I think it would be better quality.  If my pocket trumpet was made out of the same plastic as my alto recorder, it would be a much better instrument.

So why aren't these being mass-produced by dozens of Chinese companies and sold to children?

And, since we can do it with flutes, trumpets and trombones, why not produce the rest of the woodwind/brass family in moulded plastic?

If I were a parent of school children, I'd much prefer to buy them some plastic thingy to learn with until they've proven they're going to stick with it.  If my idiot kid decides s/he wants a trombone for Christmas, but I know s/he's going to keep it up for about a year and then leave the dang thing in a cupboard for the rest of his/her life, I'm totally going to buy him/her the cheapest trombone I can get.

Heck, I practically am raising one of those idiot kids:  me.  I want the toys, but I know what my attention span is like, so I want to buy myself the cheapest toys.  I have a feeling I'm not alone.

So, Chinese manufactures and British/American designers - get onto this.  I want a plastic French horn to go with my mouthpiece, and I want it reasonably soon...

Windy, brassy things

By Fluteflute CC BY 2.5

At some point in my life I wanted to learn how to play the French Horn - or, as serious musicians call it "the horn".

Then I bought a second hand cornet and thought I'd give that a crack.  It eventually lead to a few months' worth of being in a brass band just so I could get lessons, but the timing of both the band nights and the lessons were both of the "I'm not sure I can keep this up" variety and, as it turned out, I couldn't.

Besides, it turns out that I'm not really suited to such high-pitched instruments as cornets/trumpets.  The baritone horn (not actually related to the French Horn) was more comfortable, but possibly a bit low, really.  I think I should have tried something in the middle of that spectrum - but the club had stacks of baritones to lend, so a baritone is what I borrowed (and what I was learning until the sucky timing of everything just got too bad).

But now I'm thinking about French Horns again.  Even as the brass teacher dude was steering me towards the baritone, I was wondering why I couldn't/shouldn't give French Horns a try.

The appropriate answer at the time: brass bands don't do French Horns.  Apparently they're part of the wind section in a concert band.  Who decides these things, anyway?

However, I don't want to spend over $1000 on an instrument that might end up languishing in the instrument graveyard that is my spare room (currently residing in the graveyard:  a cornet, a pocket trumpet, a melodeon, three recorders of various sizes, a fife, a mouthorgan, a kazoo and a concertina that occasionally sees the light of day.  Technically there's an electric keyboard in there, too, but I've managed to con someone else into keeping that in their own spare room).

So I really want to borrow one or buy a second hand model that is functional but very, very cheap.

I could probably borrow one if I joined a concert band, but I'm reluctant to join anything else, quite frankly - even if the local concert band happens to be located in my old school.

Anyone know of a spare French Horn I could have?  I'd be willing to swap it for something from the graveyard, if that sweetens the deal (as long as it's not the recorders or the concertina - they're keepies, even if they are mostly unused).

Pah! Humbug!

It's official, I hate music.

I had a strange desire to listen to wind quintet music today.  I couldn't remember if I'd heard any before.  Brass quintet, yes, but not necessarily wind.

So, I live in a library, right?  When you live in a library and you think "I wouldn't mind exploring X", you are in a particularly ideal place to do that.

To the catalogue!  To the AV collection!

Up the stairs I sprang (walking up stairs is for wusses) to fetch a cluster of CDs.

Put in the first CD - hated it.

Put in the second CD - hated it.

Put in the third CD - hated it.

Put in the fourth CD - hated it.

Tuneless tonal meanderings don't float my boat.  I want something with melody.  Something I can whistle along with, once I've picked up the general theme.

And, as a friend of mine often points out, if I can't appreciate the non-"conservative" stuff in art, I clearly can't appreciate the art.  Or my appreciation is limited.  Or something like that.

Free-style Sabre -- Or... Rapier?

If I were the boss of fencing (which, alas, I am not), one of things I would do is bring in a new discipline to join the ranks of epee, foil and sabre.

Every time I interact with sabre, I'm left feeling:  "This is so very nearly wonderful, but unfortunately it's really just such a pain in the gluteus maximus".

(Not literally, of course.  You very rarely get any serious butt pain as a result of sabre.  Arm pain, yes.  It's almost exactly like someone whips you across the arm with a thin metal rod.  Possibly because someone whips you across the arm with a thin metal rod...)

But it's just so hard wrapping my head around the idea that the first clear hit is not necessarily the winning hit.  I don't frelling care what my opponent is doing with his/her gorram feet.  I don't even care what I'm doing with my feet.  I also don't care if s/he moved his/her arm first.  We have swords!  Swords, I tell you!

If I hit that person with my sword before that person hit me, I should get the point.  When dealing with swords, the only thing that should trump "first cut" should be "most lethal cut".  If I tap them on the elbow and they stab me in the neck, that's different.

If sabre is, as I have read, as silly and convoluted as it is because of the problem with simultaneous hits, then we should just invent a free-style version of sabre in which simultaneous hits don't count, and we ditch the whole right-of-way thing in favour of first-in-best-dressed.

But, then...

I read recently that epee basically evolved out of people finding the foil of the day too restrictive.  I can see that - epee is kind of like foil, only with more freedom of movement and simpler rules of engagement.

You see, what I really want is for there to be a discipline of fencing like epee but with the cutting edge of the blade brought back into play.

So maybe the better option is to bring another sword into the fold and make another discipline entirely - one that can be to sabre what epee is to foil?

The rapier hasn't been doing much lately, and it has two edges!  What would fencing look like if we brought in a double sided sword?

And maybe it wouldn't be impossible to wire up a sword to register a hit on anything except another sword or the piste?  That would enable the entire body to become a target without the use of a full-body lame...

It could be a brilliant addition to the sport.  And all we need to do is convince enough people to agree to make it a thing, and it will be a thing.

If only I were the boss of fencing...

Eternal Winters

Tallinn cityview CC BY-SA 3.0

 Zigomar - Own work

So, Disney's been doing this thing lately where they give their films one-word titles with a lot of nuances and multiple meanings:  Tangled, Brave, Frozen...

When those movies are switched into different languages, the new movie is often given a new title to fit the new market.  For example, Tangled was retitled "Rapunzel" in many non-English versions.

Hmm.  Calling a movie about Rapunzel "Rapunzel".  Who would have thought of such a thing?

Anyway, "Frozen", being loosely based on "The Snow Queen" is being called (you guessed it)  "The Snow Queen" in various translations.

The Estonian version (which I'll probably end up buying - I do like my Disney in Estonian) is called "Lumekuninganna ja Igavene Talv" - which translates as "The Snow Queen and the Eternal Winter".

The Eternal Winter?

Last I checked, "eternal" meant more than "two days - possibly three, max".

This is why I wanted the story to play out over a longer time period.  Okay, so the summer suddenly turns into the deepest, most snow-filled winter you've ever seen.  Day one, you'll be all "my, this is unexpected!"  Day two might see you crank up to "I haven't darned my socks since last winter, but fortunately I live near the Arctic so I've got plenty of blankets".  If you're agriculturally minded you may be thinking "but the crops!  They won't like this at all!"  Day three you may make it to "Do we have enough food if this lasts?"

At some point that week you'll be thinking "we should find the queen and tell her to knock it off."

Personally, I don't think you'll get to "we must stop this Eternal Winter no matter what it takes" until after at least a week.

But then, maybe I have more patience than most...

Ingredients

This amuses me no end.

The following are the complete ingredients listed on the back of a packet.  See if you can guess what the product is:

Ingredients:

When reconstituted: Maize Starch, Onion (26%), Maltodextrin (from Wheat), Flavours (contain Wheat, Milk Derivatives), Salt, Parsley (3%), Flavour Enhancers (621, 635), Creamer [Vegetable Oil (Contains Soybean Derivative), Glucose Syrup, Milk, Protein, Mineral Salts (339, 450)], Mineral Salt (Potassium Chloride), Hydrolysed Soy Protein, Colour (Caramel lV), Sunflower Oil, Spice Extract.

Allergen:

May Be Present Crustacea, Contains Soy, May Be Present Egg, Contains Wheat, May Be Present Sesame, May Be Present Fish, Contains Milk, May Be Present Peanuts

Can you guess?  The answer is here.

I just love looking at all of the things that "may be present", while thinking about the one thing that definitely isn't.

Let the storm rage on... a little bit longer

So, I finally caught up with Disney's Frozen.

As a Disney fan, I felt it was a bit flat compared with Tangled, but I thought it grows on you on a second viewing.

It needed more time.  Not in terms of being a longer film, but in terms of letting the story play out over a few more days.

Disney seems to be doing a thing lately where everything happens so quickly that most of the events of the film end up occurring over one or two days.

Maybe I've just been brainwashed by things like the Narnia books, but I like to think an "infernal, unnatural Winter" should last for more than a couple of hours before people start panicking and talking about saving the kingdom.

And a "quest" to find a missing ice queen with magical powers could potentially take more than 24 hours.

And did anyone else noticed that Anna basically fell in love with someone she just met (two different 'someones') twice in less than 48 hours - even though the second guy made a point of stating that love doesn't actually work that way?

All I'm saying is:  give it a week.  Maybe even two.

Give the ice queen a day or so of running off into the woods before deciding This Winter Must Be Stopped!  I'd like a bit longer, actually, but a couple of days is better than a couple of hours.

Give the questing heroes a few days together to get to know each other before the trolls try to marry them.

Let the devious prince have a bit longer to convince the kingdom he's a good substitute for their own royals.

It's not too much to ask, is it?

On an unrelated note:

Okay, I know I've spent too long as an undergrad studying literature and media studies, where they force you to notice and comment on these sorts of things, but...

That "Let it Go" musical number, where the frigid ice queen sings about trying to control her emotions and be a "good girl", but now she's just going to let the storm inside her rage - letting down her hair, changing into a slinky dress and sashaying around the place?

Seriously, dude, if no one has written a book about the symbolic representation of women's sexuality in Disney's film already - they will now.  I'd be very surprised if this movie doesn't end up being a staple of undergraduate film studies, purely for this reason.

Sporting

You know, I think my teenage self and I would not get along very well.

For one thing, she thought that sport was terribly boring, the sports pages were a waste of newspaper space and people who talked about sport were dull (and probably devoid of real intelligence).

Why watch sport when there are plays?  Who needs football if you have Shakespeare?

And now?  Now I will actively choose to go to a sporting match rather than a musical.  Partly because I loves me my sports, and partly because I can see a football game for $10, while the musical will cost me $45.

The sports pages are pretty much the only part of the newspaper I read.  That, and the comics (which I always loved, so there's no big change there).

And I blog about sport.  I yammer on pointlessly about baseball and lawn bowls.

What's with that?

It's not as if anyone I know would actually be interested in reading about that crap.  Most of my friends did not inherit the "mad about sport" gene.  Somewhere along the lines, though, my DNA just sucked it right out of the air.

When did this happen?  How did this happen?

I'm enjoying it.  There's lots of sport in the world and it's really fun to watch and read about.

It just doesn't make any sense at all that I would go from "Pffft!  Sport is so boring!" to "Yay sport!  Sport is totally awesome!"

Do other people do that?

Games that should exist: Short-pitch Gaelic Football

This game might very well already exist, but if it does no one is using my key terms to write about it on the Internets.

I want there to be a version of Gaelic football played with fewer players on a soccer/football pitch and using a size 4 soccer ball.

I want this to exist because:

1. Gaelic football is awesome, but Gaelic football pitches are not common outside of Ireland.  They exist, they're just not common.  Every town as a soccer field, though.
2. Gaelic football is awesome, but fifteen people (plus substitutes) is a lot of people.  If you had 30 people interested in playing, and teams had 15 players a piece, you'd only get 2 teams out of that.  But if teams had 7 players each (Goal keeper, three backs and three forwards), you'd be able to rustle up some more teams and get a bit of a league happening.
3. Gaelic football is awesome, but an actual Gaelic football is a bit of a speciality item.  Size 4 soccer balls are much more readily available.  Although, I don't know if they'll bounce as well...

The way I see it, if you could just sort out some sort of pole extension for a normal football goal and re-purpose any old soccer field into a Gaelic football field, you'd have a lot more people playing the game world wide.

Granted, the short-pitch, cut-down version might not prepare people for the big-kids' version, and it might end up being one of those things where the "let's bring this to the masses" version ends up eclipsing the traditional version (hello, 20/20 cricket) and building skill sets that don't transfer easily to the "real game"...

But, still, Gaelic football is awesome, and it would be nice if it could be played in any town with a soccer pitch (which is pretty much every town on the planet).

If you know of such a game, and it has a name and rules and stuff, please let me know.

Let me tell you about this bird

So, my first tattoo?  The one I didn’t get because I’m not ready to spend quality time in a tattoo studio?

It was going to be this bird, or something very much like it:

At first blush, it probably looks like I’m just another silly chick who wanted swallow tattoo (one of the biggest clichés out there) and found a pretty picture on the internet.  But let me tell you about this bird.

This is a barn swallow.  It is the national bird of Estonia, the country where my grandmother was born.  When she was a child, my grandmother fled the country with her mother and sisters because of the Second World War.  She never returned – partly because, as a working class woman with five kids, she could never afford it and partly because the country was occupied by the Soviets and was on the wrong side of the Iron Curtain.

As far as she was concerned, that country and its culture were part of her past, and would stay there.  My cousins and I have slowly been making it part of our present.  Many of us have visited the country, and some of us have made the effort to reconnect with the culture.

My first trip back to Estonia was also my first trip overseas.  It was also my first cycling tour, and I was travelling solo.  The first day of my tour I was terrified.  I was so worried I was making myself sick.  I thought I would get lost.  I thought I would hurt myself.  I thought I would run out of steam and have to stop before I reached my hotel for the night.  I was almost certain I was going to have to call someone to rescue me.

But I made it to my hotel.  At one point in time I thought I might have been lost, but it turned out I wasn’t.  I didn’t hurt myself.  I had enough stamina to even survive a side-trip to a golf club for lunch.

And there I was, at the end of the first leg of my journey, sitting on the balcony outside my room in the only hotel in a tiny fishing village in the middle of nowhere.  I felt an incredible sense of achievement.  I felt like I could conquer the world.

I *could* do this.  I *can* do this.  I *am* doing this!

This was the most audacious adventure I had ever attempted, and I felt like I could actually survive it.

There were some barn swallow nests under the eaves of the balcony on which I was sitting.  As I sat there, feeling exhausted yet empowered, I watched the swallows shoot out from underneath me, swoop into the air, weave in and out of each other in an amazing display of aerial acrobatics and dive back under the balcony.

I could see why the Estonians chose this little bird, of all things, to be a symbol of their country.  It was small, it was commonplace, it was simple – but it was also bold, elegant, full of life and the embodiment of freedom.

It was beautiful.  It was magnificent.

The beauty of a barn swallow is different to the beauty of a swan or lorikeet.  The magnificence of a barn swallow is different to the magnificence of a hawk or falcon.  It is so small, delicate and compact – so fragile.  And yet there is a power in that bird.  You only need to see it shoot out into space and swoop in a high, fast arc to see that.

I can see why the Estonians would want to see something of themselves in that bird - why they would want to see something of that bird in themselves.  It made sense that they would put it on their 500 Kroon note, and it was such a shame that the design on that note stopped being in common circulation when Estonia changed its currency to the Euro.

The picture of a barn swallow on the 500 Kroon note is one of the best images of a swallow I have ever seen.  It does such a magnificent job of capturing the elegance and power of that little bird.

That pose.  That poise.  I wanted the spirit of that bird – the essence of it – to be the first image I had had tattooed onto my body.  And it almost was.

Maybe one day it will be.  Somewhere, under the skin, I think it already is.