Bembo’s Zoo. A stroke of genius and a brilliant way to celebrate World Book Day, methinks.
Author: Mirthful
Composition challenge
Joining the game: Challenge 8 – Folk Lore
My parents have a fairly large set of friends that they’ve kept in touch with since their student days, some even longer, so many, in fact, that even now I have problems remembering who they all are. This impresses me wildly. I’m lucky if I manage to keep in touch with anyone except a chosen few for more than a month after I stop seeing them daily – I’ve forgotten the names of most of the people I worked with a year and a half ago – and I’m of the internet persuasion and have all these social networking tools at my fingertips. It obviously doesn’t help.
Anyway, back to topic: Two of these friends, husband and wife, are both doctors and live on a farm somewhere in Nord-Trøndelag (I forget the details). Quite an impressive place, apparently, but definitely rural. My brother and I are both city/town bred, hardly “big city” in the international sense, but still, urban enough.
When I was 4 or so we went to visit this family. Apparently, the first utterance from my four-year-old self upon embarking from the car was “Where is the playground?”
Twelve years or so later, my brother accompanied my parents on a visit, he would have been nine or thereabouts. The lady of the house gave him a glass of milk from the cows of the farm out of the fridge. His answer, when asked how he liked it, was “Well, it’s kind of strange to think that it comes from the cow.”
My parents would have been mortified if they hadn’t been too busy laughing. What sort of city slickers had they brought into the world?
(In my brother’s defence, he knew better, of course, it just came out the wrong way. I was probably genuinely interested in knowing where the playground was.)
Having written that, I’m no longer sure it counts as family folk lore (though it’s told often enough in my family, I assure you), but at least it’s a good story.
I might try to catch up on some of the earlier challenges, too. The net knows I could use some new content on this so called blog.
Of apostrophes and other animals
Meg wrote a fantastic entry recently entitled Malapostrophication, crap marketing agencies, and why its they’re fault you’re business look’s dumb. Just in case you don’t go through my blogroll every day, you know.
I must remember to get my camera out more often when I see signs like that. I don’t seem to have any malapostrophication examples uploaded to Flickr, so you’ll have to make do with the one on the right as an illustration for now.
Posten: En liten historie fra virkeligheten
En av oppgavene mine i nåværende jobb (som jeg slutter i på fredag, juhuuu) er å hente posten – fra tre postbokser og til fem firmaer samt et par stiftelser osv. Dette fører selvsagt til at post som faktisk skal til oss er adressert til veldig mye rart, særlig siden noen av enhetene har litt lange navn og/eller har skiftet navn (noen for over 20 år siden, men det tar tid å rette adresselister, må vite).
Postboksene har nummer 23, 758 og 1580* – og det er særlig den midterste, som tilhører hovedarbeidsgiveren min, som tiltrekker seg mye irrelevantheter. Noe av grunnen er at arbeidsgiver eier bygget vi sitter i og leier ut til diverse fimaer (blandt annet de andre vi henter posten for) og alt som er adressert til denne gateadressen og som posten ikke klarer å plassere havner derfor hos oss. Greit nok, på sett og vis.
Mandag denne uken fikk vi et brev i postboks 758 som var adressert til Fiktivia AS, Storgata 20. Vi jobber i – og eier – Storgata 22. Postkontoret ligger i Storgata 20…
Nåja, dette har skjedd før (ikke med akkurat det firmaet, som jeg kan huske, men med andre), så vi strøk over postens sorteringsstrekkode, satte en ring rundt tallet 20 og puttet det tilbake i postkassen.
Tirsdag lå brevet atter en gang i postboks 758. Vi lo litt oppgitt, og jeg gikk innom posten med brevet og ba mannen i skranken hilse de som jobber i postbokssorteringen at det i hvert fall ikke skulle i postboks 758.
I dag lå brevet i postboks 23. Fortsatt Storgata 22, ikke 20, altså. I tillegg er postboks 23 den eneste av de tre boksene som kun får post til ett enkelt firma med relativt entydig navn.
Nåja.
Jeg har nå vært på posten igjen, denne gangen presiserte jeg at jeg ikke ANER om Fiktivia AS holder til i Storgata 20, men at de i hvert fall IKKE er i Storgata 22.
Følg med i morgen for neste episode…
___________
* Nummer, gatenavn og bedriftsnavn er fiktive, da jeg ikke føler for å annonsere på nett hvor jeg jobber til ethvert tidspunkt.
There must be something wrong with this town
…when the best selection of new books (novels and non-fiction) can be found at a newsagent rather than any of the so-called bookshops?
I finished my current read (The Tale of Desperaux) on the bus this morning, and since I’m visiting the bloodbank later – something which usually entails a bit of waiting time – I thought I’d just pop in somewhere to see if I could find something worthwhile to buy. Since the bookshops are not yet open when I make my way to work, I thought I might as well try the largest newsagent – Narvesen at Nordre – which is just down the block. As usual (well, I have been there before, you know) I am astounded at the selection of new non-fiction and fiction they carry. Now, don’t get me wrong, the section for books is tucked away at the back and the selection consists of a few hundred titles at most, but at least it’s stuff that was actually published THIS century. AND they have NON-fiction, a type of book whose existence seems to have been all but forgotten by the major bookshops. I ended up with Bill Bryson’s The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, which is hardly what you’d call new, being first published in 2006, but which I have not come across at a convenient time earlier. However, had I been in the mood for fiction, there were four or five titles that I will be buying at some point, just not today, and there were several more non-fiction titles I might as well have purchased, had I not found Bryson.
By contrast, the bookshop with the largest number of books in English has a fair selection of paperback fiction – though never the really new stuff, or at least never the new books I actually want. Whenever I find a book I’d actually like in the “new arrivals” section I have normally already purchased it – somewhere else and quite a while back. And they have no non-fiction whatsoever. Perhaps most illustrative of the lack of exitement generated by their selection: Even when they run a 25%, or even 50%, off all English paperbacks I have a hard time finding anything I actually want to fork over money for.
The bookshop that used to have a fairly large non-fiction section of the English paperback kind (well, when I say fairly large I mean somewhere between one and two shelf metres dedicated to the category) recently moved from a spacious corner house to a fancy high street venue and lost at least half its area. Consequently its selection of books of any kind has dropped drastically. This morning I noted that they are advertising dvds, something they have not been selling earlier. Great, that will mean more space for actual books, then?
Perhaps they are just adopting to the market. Perhaps there really isn’t a demand for Bill Bryson and Al Franken and Christina Lamb in this town. Or perhaps everyone else actually manages to browse for new titles online and therefore shop at amazon or play or bokkilden. And it is possible that I’m the only one left who’d rather buy the hardback of Douglas Coupland’s new novel in an actual bookshop.
Or it’s back to the old chicken and egg question: Do you have a smaller selection of books because they don’t sell or don’t they sell because you have a smaller selection?
Vær så snill å si at dette er ironisk ment
Vi kjøper Aftenpoften hver fredag for å få A-magasinet og jeg har som regel stor glede – og en smule frustrasjon – av å lese leserinnleggene. Men av og til… Dette er fra fredagen som var, og jeg er simpelthen nødt til å sitere det i sin helhet:
Refleks
A-magasinet skriver at effekten av refleks er enorm. Kampanjen er selvsagt velment, men er det riktig å oppfordre flest mulig til å bruke refleks?
Ett faktum er udiskutabelt: Det øker den enkelte fotgjengers sikkerhet. Men det er en logisk feilslutning å tro at kampanjen øker den totale sikkerheten for fotgjengerne.
Et lite mindretall kommer aldri til å bruke refleks. Det er innlysende at jo fler som bruker refleks, desto farligere vil det være å gå uten, fordi bilførernes oppmerksomhet overfor fotgjengere uten refleks vil avta.
Hvis risikoen for dem som går uten refleks øker mer enn den minker for refleksbrukerne vil man sogar få den effekten at den totale sikkerheten for fotgjengerne minker jo flere som bruker refleks.
Tore Rygh, ingeniør
Med tanke på at det alltid vil være en eller annen idiot som går midt i veien, synes jeg alle fotgjengere burde gå midt i veien, da ville nemlig bilistene måtte ta hensyn og den totale trafikksikkerheten ville øke. Det vil jo også alltid være noen som kjører i 150 km/t, så kanskje alle burde begynne å gjøre det, slik at fotgjengerne lærte å passe seg og det ble sikrere å ferdes i trafikken.
Eller?
Som sagt, vær snill å si at dette er ironisk ment…
(Sånn rent tallmessig er det mulig den godeste ingeniør Rygh har rett, men pokker om jeg vil utsette meg – eller mine barn – for unødvendig risiko for å være med å redde de idiotene som ikke bruker refleks, de kan jaggu ha det så godt. Synd på bilistene som kjører på dem, selvsagt, noe som vel var poenget med A-magasinets artikkel, men allikevel. Jeg tviler dessuten sterkt på at tallene ville slå ut den veien dersom flertallet faktisk brukte refleks – det skal tross alt være feil mann på feil sted samtidig som en bil i fart også. Nuvel.)
Reklame og utdanning
Er det bare meg, eller slår reklame for utdanning oftere feil enn reklame generellt? Akkurat nå har bussene i Trondheim reklameplakater for mange forskjellige utdanninger (jeg mistenker at søknadsfristen for opptak til universiteter og høyskoler til høsten nærmer seg…), og særlig to har fått meg til å lure på hva de som lagde reklamen tenkte på.
Den første er fra Campus Christiania (og hvor dumt er det navnet, egentlig?) om at kreativitet kan læres. Vel og bra, men de som har lagd plakaten kunne kanskje trengt en oppfrisker? Noe så nitrist og intetsigende er det lenge siden jeg har sett…
Den andre er fra Dronning Mauds, for førskolelærerutdanningen: Ingen barn er like. Det er en plakat med bilde av barn i forskjellige positurer, noen med kostyme, og titler som “Filosofen”, “Prinsessen”, “Hjelperen” osv. – og så en del plakater med bare ett av barna. På hovedplakaten er tittelen “Hvis du tror at alle barn er like har du mye å lære.” Generellt får dette meg til å tenke flere ting: A. Hvis du har så lite menneskeinnsikt at du tror at alle barn er like bør du vel helst ikke få lov til å bli førskolelærer. B. Sier de ikke implisitt at hvis du ikke tror at alle barn er like er du utlært? C. Vil vi egentlig ha førskolelærere fra en institusjon som tror at alle barn kan puttes i bås? (Barn er selvsagt ikke like, men de passer tydeligvis inn i et knippe enkelt definerbare kategorier.) Osv. Slett ikke det reklamebyrået var ute etter å formidle, mistenker jeg.
#%¤&#¤
Tine har tydeligvis funnet ut at de skal sette sånn plastduppedittåpner på alle melkekartongene sine. Ikke at det ikke er enkelt og greit og sånt når man skal åpne og helle, men for oss som skyller, bretter og stapper er det noe herk. Hvordan mener de at man skal få 6 bretta kartonger ned i den 7. når det er sånne digre plastklumper i veien, egentlig?
Som sagt: #%¤&#¤
Swearing at the computer
This week at work so far has been spent swearing at the computer. Not that that doesn’t happen now and again, a few times a day perhaps, most weeks, but this week it has been worse than usual. You see, our IT people decided to upgrade our Microsoft Office Suite. Yeah, we now have Office 2007. This is not a good thing. Here are some examples of why:
What’s with the colour scheme? In Word I can chose between blue background with blue type, grey background with grey type and charcoal background with – uhm – whiteish type. The charcoal is too black and dreary for me (besides, white type on black is NOT easy on the eyes in the long run). The two others are fine, I suppose, since – with glasses – my eyesight is pretty normal. I’d hate to have poor eyesight and trying to make sense of this, though.
Instead of nested windows, each document opens in it’s own window. Fine. There are advantages and drawbacks to both approaches, and this is not new in Office 2007. However, what IS new is that if you use the “close window” cross in the upper right hand corner when you have only one document open you close both the document and the programme. There is no “close open document” button handily available. Well, there is now – though at upper left rather than upper right – I had to go into settings and dig it out.
The “Print” button, the equivalent of “ctrl+p”, is not immediately available (though it is now, I dug that out, too).
They MOVED THE BLOODY SEND BUTTON in the create new message window in Outlook. Now I have to search for it every time (yeah, I know, I’ll get used to it).
If you select a piece of text and place you cursor over it, a “handy” little box pops up with likely buttons – bold, italics and so on. Which means that if you move you cursor over the selected text in order to replace the cursor and change the selection (because, say, it “helpfully” selected a word more than you wanted when all you wanted was to select a few words in a sentence and delete them) you end up clicking the bloody bold button because you click before you really think and the “handy” box takes a second to appear anyway and so is only just there in time to register the actual click but wasn’t visible when your finger started moving down on the mouse button.
In Excel you can select a column (or row), right click and choose “Insert” and it will insert a column (or row) in front (or above). You can also select a cell, right click, select “Insert…” and get a dialogue box with a few choices. However, as far as I can see you can’t make a selection and then go to a menu to choose “Insert row below”, “Insert column before” and so on. Not a big thing, I guess, but I like being able to do things the way I used to do them…
There is more. However, I suppose that’s plenty for now.
The week hasn’t been all bad, though. For example, my brother sent me a link to this Onion story, which pretty much made my week, despite Microsoft:
Area Eccentric Reads Entire Book
I rather like:
Even more bizarre, Meyer is believed to have done most of his reading during his spare time—time when the outwardly healthy and stable resident could have literally been doing anything else, be it aimlessly surfing the Internet, taking a nap, or simply just staring at his bedroom wall.
You could see it coming
Well, if you’ve been around for a while, that is.
Dear Santa,
We are once more coming up to Christmas, and though I have pretty much everything I could wish for there are always one or two little odds and ends. Material girl, that’s me.
Again, I think I’ve been reasonably good. I’ve probably annoyed a few people, but, really, people get annoyed so easily and one can’t be universally popular – even you struggle with that so what chance do the rest of us have?
Thanks for clearing Rowling’s calendar so that she was able to finish Book 7 at last, btw, it was much appreciated (and not only by myself, as far as I can gather).
- World peace. Yes, I know, I never give up. Consider it as an expression of faith.
- A permanent job would be kinda nice. One I would actually enjoy even better.
- An external flash – with adjustable lamp direction (for example: this or this).
- The book “Ur-Pippi” by Astrid Lindgren in Swedish.
- Photoshop CS3 (I wish).
- Health and longevity for my nearest and dearest and for the following authors/artists (and any others I may have forgotten): Robin Hobb, J.K. Rowling, Stephen Fry, Jo Nesbø, Ole Paus, Bjørn Eidsvåg, Alanis Morisette, Michael Wiehe, Michael Parkinson, Håkon Gullvåg, Rosamunde Pilcher, Bill Bryson, Kate Atkinson, Bob Dylan and Jasper Fforde. You know why.
- Non Stop. As usual.
- One of those horribly expensive sewing machines. Preferably Husqvarna, but I’d be willing to consider Pfaff. One that does embroidery – where I can design the patterns myself – would be cool, but failing that, one with a gazillion fancy seams would make me very happy. Or an overlock. That would certainly make me happy, too.