Free London Irish photos!
"That's an impressive-looking camera," said the security supervisor politely.
"Thank you," I replied.
"…Only, for future reference, we don't allow those sorts of cameras in here."
"What, Canons?"
"It's very professional-looking."
"You mean it has a telephoto lens?"
"That's right. We don't mind small cameras, but nothing professional."
"Why on earth not?"
"I don't know. It's just the rules."
So I put my camera away.
I wouldn't have minded, but it's not as if had been acting like an embarrassing uncle at a wedding, getting in the way of the pros or anything. I had been sitting quietly in the seat I had paid £20 for, taking some snaps for a bit of fun.
A bit later on, I collared the security supervisor again and pointed to one of the official photographers standing behind the try-line with a two-foot long lens: "For future reference, that's a professional-looking camera," I advised. The security supervisor laughed. Then, when he was supervising the other way, I pulled out my very amateurish-looking cameraphone and took his picture. That's within the rules, apparently.
more photos »
I think the Powers That Be are being rather pompous and unreasonable, saying it's OK to take photos at London Irish rugby matches, provided you don't take any good ones. So, if you are a fan of The Irish who has just Googled your favourite team and found this page, and if you'd like copies of some of the photos I took, please feel free to dowload them from my Flickr pages, print them out, send them to your friends, put them on your own websites, use them as your computer wallpaper (the Digger one is rather nice), make them into T-shirts or mugs, do what you like with them (apart from make money out of them). If you'd like higher-resolution versions of any of them, please let me know. Enjoy.
(It wasn't even a particularly good game, was it?)
Reflections on the British Empire
For some inexplicable reason, the hotel we stayed at in Sicily last month had a rather magnificent reproduction of this 1886 map of the world, depicting the extent of the British Empire:
It's a real Ripping Yarns-type map, with gathered natives and animals from our conquered/discovered lands standing around the edges, looking remarkably happy with their lots. The imperial territories are marked in red: the British Isles (including Ireland), the Falklands, Canada, India, Southern Africa, Australia, New Zealand…
After studying the map for several minutes, an interesting thought occurred to me: how jolly clever of us only to conquer countries that speak English!
Idle thought
Wouldn't the Beaufort Scale be better named the Blowfort Scale?
The Aeroplane Games
Our journey home from Sicily last week was eventful. There were three pissed Mancunian louts with silly haircuts being loud and obnoxious across the aisle from us on the flight from Gatwick to Manchester. The steward had a quiet word with them, not that it did any good.
They were so obnoxious that I spent the entire journey confined to my iPod. Bloody tossers, I thought to myself. Who do they think they are, Oasis or something?
It turned out they were an Oasis tribute band.
Anyway, being on an aeroplane game me the perfect opportunity to play both of my aeroplane games:
Aeroplane Game 1:
When the captain comes on to the P.A. system and begins with words along the lines of:
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain John Mitchell welcoming you aboard flight BA1234 to Manchester…"
…you should turn immediately to the person next to you (who, in my case is nearly always Jen, and, therefore, fully familiar with the game), and blurt out in an alarmed voice:
"Not Captain John Mitchell! He's rubbish! He's the one they struck off last year, isn't he? How the hell did he get his licence back?"
But, as the captain continues his announcement with words along the lines of:
"My co-pilot on today's flight will be Andrew McTavish…"
…you (or, if they are familiar with the game, the person next to you) should sigh with relief, saying:
"Oh, that's good! Andrew McTavish is great! He'll look after us OK!"
That's it, basically. A harmless bit of fun which greatly amuses your fellow passengers.
Aeroplane Game 2:
As you are disembarking from the aeroplane, either down the steps or walking through the tunnel, you should call out:
"Hello, Cleveland! Rock and roll!"
(It's a quote from This Is Spinal Tap, and is, therefore, extremely funny.)
Hunting the hunter
Nature is still red in tooth and claw in Hebden Bridge. Well, in beak and claw at least:
I had just settled down with a cup of tea and the latest LRB at the dining room table this morning, when I glanced out of the window and spotted a male sparrowhawk underneath our bird feeder, dismanting (rather appropriately) one of our sparrows. I must say, he was making a bit of a meal of it: no finesse whatsoever.
I watched him for about half an hour before I realised it would probably make sense to try to get a photo of such a rare spectacle. So I grabbed my camera and took a few shots through the window before sneaking outside to try to get a bit closer. It proved to be disappointingly easy: I managed to get to within five yards of the bird, firing off dozens of shots through the driving snow, before he finished his meal and took off. The light was extremely poor, so I'm pleased with the result.
Market research
Talking of oranges, when I was in Sicily the other week, I spotted a bloke selling oranges from a stall. He had set it up under an orange tree which was full of fruit.
I'm no businessman, but I reckon that guy needs to do a bit more market research.
Shit-lit
I was just thinking, if there's an Orange Prize for top fiction, shouldn't there be a Lemon Prize for bad fiction?
Postscript: A quick Google search reveals that I have just reinvented a joke originally made by the late Auberon Waugh.
Check it out
This article misses the point:
BBC: Alarm over shopping radio tags
…We are all familiar with barcodes, those product fingerprints that save cashiers the bother of keying in the code number of everything we buy. Now, meet their replacement: the RFID tag, or radio frequency ID tag.
These smart labels consist of a tiny chip surrounded by a coiled antenna… While barcodes need to be manually scanned, RFID simply broadcasts its presence and data to electronic readers.
The article goes on to explain how these RFID tags will introduce all sort of (legitimate) privacy concerns, whereas the big supermarkets simply want them to help automate the transport of goods to the shelves.
That's as maybe, but the real reason why the supermarkets want to introduce RFID tags—the one you never hear them mention—is that the tags will save them the bother and expense of employing hundreds of thousands of low-paid checkout and shelf-stacking staff, thereby increasing their already massive profits.
And will we be prepared to stand for that? Of course we will, if it makes our tins of baked beans a couple of pence cheaper. Even more so if it means we don't need to go to the supermarket at all.
Predictable?
Conversation with Jen last week:
J: You are so predictable!
R: Onions.
J: …OK, I didn't see that one coming.