Bicycle Brakes

Some would call it laziness, but I think I have been a victim of "Acclimatization by Slow Change", to use the phrase of R.V. Jones. The brakes of my bicycle have been getting less and less effective over the last few weeks. I took lots of measures to counter this: first pulling harder at the back brake, then pulling harder at the front brake, then dragging a foot on the floor.

By yesterday the procedure to stop my bike was quite complex. Pulling as hard as possible on both brakes achieved only a negative third derivative of distance with respect to time. I was getting faster, but not as quickly as I would have done without applying the brakes*. To stop accelerating, I had to go into a slalom with both brakes on. By bobbing up and down in the saddle and thrusting the bike out at each turn it is possible to slalom quite sharply. This still left me going at a constant speed. To actually stop I had to stop slaloming, put the left foot to the floor and then turn the bike ninety degrees at the last second.

Today I decided to mend the brakes. I just had to loosen and tighten two screws, and took about five minutes. Now I can safely propel myself over the handlebars whenever I feel like it. I will try to tighten the brakes sooner the next time.

* If you understand this, you will also understand the Bild Zeitung headline on the German economy this week "Growth shrinks" (originally "Wachstum schrumpft")

Out on the Wiley Windy Moors...

... there stand two dry stone walls, facing each other, eighty yards apart. Between them is not heath, but finely cut green grass. For most of their length, the walls are natural stone. Only the central section of each wall is whitewashed.

Haworth West End cricket club possess the highest cricket ground in Yorkshire, and perhaps the most wind-swept cricket ground in the world. Cricket grounds need a sightscreen behind the bowler's arm, so that the red ball is clearly visible to the batsman. On Haworth moor, the white walls serve as a wind-resistant sightscreen. Of course the walls are only about five foot tall, so the sightscreen only really works for very small bowlers.

The pavilion of this cricket ground was the starting point of a fell race yesterday. 279 people lined up to run across Haworth moor and back again, including me and my dad. Running across a moor is similar to running anywhere else. Except every now and again the ground suddenly gives way, and you find yourself with one leg on solid ground, and the other leg knee deep in a mini peat bog. If this happens while tramping uphill or against the wind, you pull your foot out and continue. If this happens going downhill wind-assisted, you either trip and tumble, or come to an emergency stop. I did both a couple of times, and was happy to return to the cricket pavilion with both ankles intact.


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Ultras Bochum 3 - Torpedo Entenhausen 4

This game was postponed due to snow. I therefore dedicate the win to former Blackpool goalkeeper Harry Sharrat, who was booked for making a snowman on his goalline.

Winter has arrived in Bochum, and although there was no snow one week later, the pitch was frozen in one corner. I found this out while trying to turn quickly past a defender. The resulting slip was almost convincing enough to get a penalty. Fortunately I fell on my left knee, which is in much better shape than the right one. And because I fell on ice, the cut wasn't filled with the usual sand and gravel.

This match brought Torpedo Entenhausen an unprecedented (at least in my time) five wins in a row. We thus moved into an unprecedented (at least in my time) fourth place, just in time for the end of the season. The official policy of the team is to play so badly in the first 6 games that we can't get promoted. After that, we are free to win some games. The successful end to the season even brought a goal difference of 0.

Torpedo Entenhausen 8 - Porno Villa 0

I just reread the last entry against SG Sundern, where I wrote

today I managed to land on exactly the same spot just below the knee and reopen the wound.

What I didn't mention is how this happened. There was a goalmouth scramble as the keeper could only block a shot. I pushed past a defender and lunged at the ball. With an injured knee. On a cinder pitch. The resulting wound was quite deep, and had me limping for a good few days. Cycling was also painful, so I sat at home a lot and was bored.

This is part of my problem. I am bored, then start doing something, get completely hooked, start diving around and injuring myself, and am then ill/injured. I then become bored, start doing something...

By this match, which was two weeks ago, I had recovered enough to play against my good friends of Porno Villa. They have made many friends in their first season because of their fair play and occasionally open defense. If there is such a thing as a lucky 8-0 win, this was it. Torpedo took almost all their chances to move to -1 goal difference. I spent the whole of the first half in the submerged half of the pitch, and conceded lots of throw-ins.

Fat Finger Job Application

I've been putting this off, and got depressed today. I went to the Job Centre on Thursday, and was given four jobs to apply for. I managed to write a job application on Friday, and got it corrected by Sunday. I spent the last two days trying to muster up courage to send it off. I kept putting it off, surfing the internet, walking around randomly, standing on stairs, drinking coffee and juggling. I tried to learn lots of juggling tricks with the left hand on the right and the right hand on the left.

By this morning I was depressed and confused. Everyone I met today commented how awful I look. I slept 9 hours, but was worried the whole time and woke up tired. My coordination is bad today, and in the cafe they laughed at my attempts to fill a cup with coffee from a thermos flask, with the saucer getting in the way.

I decided to break out of this depression by doing stuff. I ate lunch, drank a coffee and set about sending off the application. I checked the last job application that I'd sent off, and saw that I'd included my PhD certificate twice. I renamed the file from MCT0025x00001.pdf to something more sensible. All the time I'm fighting with the thoughts "you can't do this job", "your application is useless", "your letter is cringeworthy". I joined the files together, found a plausible email address, wrote a subject, then my finger slipped. Somehow I found the keyboard shortcut for "send", and sent off an email without any body or attachment.

I then sent the real one, and hope that they take pity on me.

Torpedo Entenhausen 3 - SG Sundern 1

Torpedo Entenhausen collected six points in four days to move firmly into the top half of division 2 in Bochum's spare time league. A 2-1 win with 10 players on Friday was followed by a today's win, where we faced only 10 opposing players.

In both games I landed quite hard with my right knee on the cinder pitch. The cut from Friday had just about scabbed over, but today I managed to land on exactly the same spot just below the knee and reopen the wound. The grazes over the upper shin are still scabbed, but have new cuts mixed in with them.

At least I am better off than teammate Stefan, who had blood running down from both his knees, as though he had been subject to a double kneecapping. After he showered, blood was splattered down the tiles of the shower room. Bernd, a veteran of 20 years playing in the Freizeitliga, said that his elbows and knees are covered in tiny scars.

It wasn't by any means a dirty game, even though the opposition had one player sent off. It just lies in the nature of cinder pitches and human flesh. Somethings gotta give, and it usually isn't the pitch.

Taxi Zentrale 1 - Torpedo Entenhausen 2

With three games of the season remaining, Torpedo Entenhausen have accumulated the same number of points as in the whole of last season, and look good for a top-half finish. I dashed back from Erlangen for the fixture, but was a bit tired and hungover. This got me thinking about home advantage in the league, as obviously travelling five hours to a game isn't great preparation.

Now that football has turned into a billion business, this question must be worth millions of said units, and whoever solves it could become rich. It has become an accepted fact that the home team has an advantage, and this is reflected in results in all leagues all over the world.

One reason for home team advantage are the crowds, which can boost players and intimidate the referee, but the Spare Time League in Bochum doesn't have any crowds. It is therefore interesting to see that there is still a distinct home advantage. The two divisions in the league had the total results at the end of the season 2008.

Home Wins Draws Away Wins Home Goals Away Goals
Div 2 91 (50%) 18 (10%) 73 (40%) 515 449
Div 1 84 (46%) 22 (12%) 76 (42%) 531 465

Now that seems that there is definitely a home advantage. This could come from the difficulties in travelling across Bochum to get to an away match, funny kick-off times for away matches (some teams play on a Friday), or the strange surroundings and change to routine of an away fixture.

If one of the world's richest football clubs wanted to, they could conduct experiments with local leagues, all without any crowds. In one league all pitches and changing rooms would be the same, like in roman military camps, but players would have to sort out their travelling arrangements. In another league the pitches would vary, but all teams would be bussed together to the away ground. In a third league the teams would be bussed together and play on identical grounds, but be taken ten times around the ringroad before the match. Surely the costs would be small in comparison to hiring a 30 Million Euros player, and the results potentially of great importance.

Cheers Timo

I am in Erlangen for a quick visit. My PhD Supervisor is going into retirement and holding a goodbye lecture. I just turned up at my old shared flat (the Henke WG) and invited myself in. I keep meaning to give people a bit more notice, but didn't get round to it this time.

I was greeted by a cup of tea, and my ex-flatmate Timo said I could have his room. It has a bed, a computer with internet access and three bottle of beer. The perfect bachelor pad.

Torpedo Entenhausen 5 - Megalomaniacs Herne 3

I've only been blogging victories for Torpedo Entenhausen, as they are much more fun. In reality we are safely in mid-table, far from the disappointment of finishing last (there is no relegation from the second division of the spare time league) and far from the disaster of promotion.

Wemser and Werner, a couple of Torpedo old-timers, returned to the team last week. We played a few matches together when I started almost 2 years ago, and they commented how I have improved my game. I scored one goal, set up two, and ran around a lot before succumbing to cramp in the final minutes. As the substitutes were also knackered, I was told to stand in front of the defence for the final minutes to preserve our precious lead.

I got to select and organise the team for the last two matches, as our captain, organiser and last-ditch defender was on holiday. Those 'wasted' months of playing football manager games were quite useful. Pick your 14 players, send them a text message, choose a formation, learn that the full-back is down with flu, choose another formation. Enter the transfer market by asking Werner to ask his mate whether he fancies a game.

I also got to greet the referee and opposition and win the coin toss by default. While I was winning the coin toss the rest of the team decided which positions to play. I don't think I'm ready for complete control of team affairs yet, and luckily the real captain will be back next week.

Bewerbungsmappe

This is the German word for a folder containing documents for a job application. Apparently there is no equivalent in English, as

In the US, when you apply for a job, you send a one or two-page resume and a letter. You don't send all the other crap unless they ask for it.

I have found all my old 'A' level certificates, and am off to a copy shop to get copies for my Bewerbungsmappe. I'm finding all of this rather tricky. My psychologist reminds me that every new thing will be difficult. Every step towards getting a job is hard, and I find myself blocking myself.

The process of buying a Bewerbungsmappe took about an hour. It started with me writing down what I was going to buy, where I was going to buy it, and when. I planned a cup of coffee and a sticky raisin bun as a reward for a successful purchase. Everything about this mission was carefully planned.

I then walked into the stationary shop, found the shelf with Bewerbungsmappen, and bought three. It took less than a minute. If I had to do it again it would be very easy. A Bewerbungsmappe is just a piece of folded cardboard with a clip inside and "B E W E R B U N G" on the front. Buying one is no more difficult than buying a ring-binder, or a hole puncher.

Juggling in Lüneburg

I really like this photo. I was juggling two clubs in my left hand (the top and bottom one in the picture) while swinging the third club (the middle one) like a cowboy swings a lasso in my right hand. If you time it right, the swinging club doesn't hit the other two clubs as they go up and down. Thanks to Florian B. in Lüneburg for taking the picture, and Philip D. in Bochum for teaching me the trick.

The Ballad of Reading Goal

--Edit 9th Oct -- The Video of the match keeps getting pulled, but the Video of Chris Kamara is much better. Unbelievable Jeff!

I just wanted an excuse to use that oh-so-clever headline. It's quite scary how many google hits suggest that Oscar Wilde wrote a poem about Reading scoring a goal, or about someone reading Goal Magazine (not just any magazine, this one has "big colour pictures"). Even the "I'm feeling lucky" hit for Ballad of Reading Gaol has goal in the URL.

SQL

Select count(men)
from
tblDeadMansChest

> 15 Aaarrrhh!

I have been learning SQL, while teaching the unemployed of Bochum the importance of "International Talk Like a Pirate Day". The tutor has saved the date in his iPhone for next year so that he can spread the word. It's good to know that you're making a difference in the world.

Torpedo Entenhausen 2 - Tote Hosen 0

5-5-3-4-5-3-3-2-2-3-2-1-5-5-8

Guess the next number? The mean value of this sequence is 3.73, the mode appears to be 5, the standard deviation 1.79 (according to this statistics website).

That series is the number of goals conceded by Torpedo Entenhausen this season in the first 15 matches. We have the second worst defensive record in the league with 56 goals. Last season we only conceded 49 goals in 26 games. This is what happens when you put an injured outfield player in goal: miskicked clearances, balls that slip through hands, balls that sail over the goalkeeper as he tries to jump with his injured knees.

Markus, our goalkeeper, was out for half a year with a broken arm. He is now back, and spent the first 30 minutes plucking balls out of the air. After that the opposition gave up shooting on goal. It looked like our firm defence would earn us a 0-0 draw, but we scored two goals in the last seven minutes. I scored the second with a point-blank-range header, after comically failing to tap the ball in with my foot.

Oh yeah, almost forgot, the sequence now reads

5-5-3-4-5-3-3-2-2-3-2-1-5-5-8

and our mean goals conceded per game is down to a slightly more respectable 3.5.

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.

------------------------------------------

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.