Automation

I just lost it while trying to buy a train ticket from Bochum to Erlangen. I was getting on amicably with the ticket machine until it asked me which route I wanted to take. It gave four options, each with a different price, each consisting of 3 cities I hadn't heard of and one city that I knew, but that wasn't on the way from Bochum to Erlangen. I searched the screen for the button "Just put me on the next fucking train to Nürnberg" or "Automatic route selection using arrival time optimisation" but there wasn't one.

So I decided to go to the ticket office, and tell them to put me on the next fucking train to Nürnberg. The counters were blocked by a couple planning a 3-week rail holiday and an old lady who was being explained what a railway was. I got confused, thinking how annoying other people are, how best to program a ticket-selling machine for people with simple aims who are in a rush, and how I was going to miss my train.

I couldn't keep patient enough to stand in a queue, so I headed back to the machine and selected the most expensive of the four routes, just to be on the safe side. The route was via Dortmund, the train I took went in exactly the opposite direction, but wtf.

(I wrote this rant last weekend. I was going to follow it up, locate the missing cities, draw a map of Germany with the routes on, and make a big post. After careful thought, I decided to get on with more important things and not get so worked up. I also decided that the extra 5 Euros wasn't the end of the world.)

Dead Man 'Cremated'

No, no, no, that's no good at all. Nobody will read that story. Lots of dead men get cremated. Could you have another go at the translation? Run it through Babelfish, maybe? Yes, that's more like at.

TWO undertakers put a rival in a coffin and burned him alive after a business deal went wrong. Erich Winkler, 43, was knocked unconscious then cremated under a false name before his killers scattered his ashes. Michael Schmidt, 52, had argued with Mr Winkler after agreeing to buy his firm but failing to pay. He and partner Friedrich Peters, 53, face trial in Erlangen, Germany.

So say the Sun, admittedly not the most reliable of British newspapers. The Scotsman also reported the same story.

Undertaker 'burnt alive in a coffin'

I'll admit it makes a good tale, and I always like to think that if I was to commit murder I would go for this approach. I'd like to give my victim a sporting chance to wake up, find the saw he keeps hidden in his shoes, cut a hole in the reverse side of the box as it slips into the inferno, and roll away to wreak terrible revenge on my business empire, sleep with my mistresses and kill me.



Sadly the suspect has only been accused of a rather normal murder. According to the Nürnberger Nachrichten, the case presented by the justice authorities is that the victim was killed in the meeting room of the undertakers.

Bei einem Gespräch im April 2007 in Erlangen... soll der Geschäftsmann zusammen mit dem anwesenden Bestatter aus Geiselwind den 43-Jährigen dann noch im Besprechungsraum getötet haben.

(My bold). The case continues, innocent until proven guilty, and all that.

For Gawd's sake get me to the Church on Time

I only left Bochum once in the last 3 months, and that was for a party in Dortmund, which is the next town up the Ruhr. I've got a life in Bochum with a fixed routine. I go the the computer training, juggle, play football, cook, wash up, eat, and generally have a nice quiet life.

I am off to Erlangen this weekend for a wedding. I'm a bit scared of the whole thing, but also a little excited. I found it really hard to work out what I should do when I get to Erlangen, so I concentrated on getting there with a suit in hand. I know where I'll be sleeping tonight, and am pretty confident that I'll be at the church tomorrow afternoon.

Torpedo Entenhausen 8 - Ultras Bochum 5

I've been ill with flu or something over the weekend and am still quite tired, so I was delighted to see that Torpedo Entenhausen had 15 players available for this game. This meant that I could volunteer for bench-warming services. I would like to take credit for the 7-5 goal, where I shouted loudly that our new striker should run towards the goal. He did, and scored, but might have done so without my prompting, as it is the standard thing to do in a football match.

As part of our demoralisation plan, I came on as an "impact substitute" with five minutes left. I slipped and sat on the ball once, wasting valuable seconds. I also drew 3 fouls from the same player within 10 seconds, wasting more valuable seconds and earning him a yellow card. To finish off I distracted the keeper for the 8-5 icing-on-the-cake, as he was beaten at the near post by a fierce shot in the closing darkness.

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In my computer course I've been learning about IP addresses, sub-networks, and CIDR (Classless Inter-Domain Routing). Thus was I damned to have songs by The Wurzels running through my head all afternoon. I don't see why I should be the only one to suffer. Oo aar, Oo aar.



I was worried that that west country farmer Oo aar could be confused for a pirate's exlamation. I just found out that there is a link between the Wurzel's "Oi drinks Zoider Oo aar Oo aar" and the pirate's "Aaaarrrr". According to Wikipedia

Actor Robert Newton, who portrayed Long John Silver in the 1950 Disney film Treasure Island and then in the 1954 film Long John Silver, is the patron saint of Talk Like A Pirate Day. Newton was a native of Dorset, and it was his native West Country dialect, which he used in his portrayal of Long John Silver and Blackbeard, that has become the standard "pirate accent".

The Mystery of the Fallen Roses

I de-iced the freezer compartment of my fridge over the weekend. To speed up the process, I filled a plastic bottle with hot water, sealed the bottle with a squirty top from a washing-up liquid bottle, and directed the hot jet of water onto the steel lining of the ice compartment. Within an hour, the huge chunks of ice which stopped me shutting the fridge door were falling off into the pool of water at the bottom of the fridge. The key to swift de-icing is that it is not necessary to melt all the ice, just the parts sticking to the metal. I guess the best way would be to pass a large current straight through the metal sheets of the ice compartment. This would also be an effective way of keeping fat kids off the ice cream.

Anyway, I was thoroughly pleased with my efforts, and rewarded myself with a bunch of roses. I didn't have a proper vase, so I took the biggest glass I could find and plonked the roses in. It looked a little wobbly at first, but after I filled it with water it was fine.

Well today I got back home and found the glass broken on the table, and the roses on the floor. I reached for some paper towels to mop up the water, but the floor was dry. After a cursory check that no jilted lover was stood behind me with an axe, I deduced what had happened.

I think the world is divided into two groups of people: Those who understand statics, forces, torques, gravity, evaporation and transpiration; and those who just go and buy a fucking rose-sized vase.

Stains

I fixed the brakes on my bike today, as I was cycling into town and have been reduced to braking by foot for the last week. When I finished, I looked down at my shorts and saw they were covered in tomato sauce from last night's tea. Only a slob would go to town in tomato-stained shorts, I thought, but I couldn't be bothered to change them, as the pockets were full of useful things and I was all ready to go. Then I realised my hands were covered in bicycle grease, and that by wiping the black oily stuff on my shorts I could cover the tomato stains.

So here is my guide to stains. More stains may follow as time and fortune allow.

Tomato-sauce: Glutton, slob, lazy bastard.

Oil: Man, hard worker, knows one end of the spanner from the other, too busy mending stuff to keep changing clothes.