From Cranbrookdesign.com:
"Cranbrookdesign.com is on the verge of getting a death sentence."
I had a brief chat with a colleague the other day. Both of us were feeling a bit down about stuff - it's not unusual that there are certain periods in the academic year when energy is sapped. In my first college my introduction to teaching coincided with a couple of years when Easter was unusually late, leading to really long Spring terms, and you could see it in the eyes of students and staff. I'm not sure if a lot of students realise how much energy it takes to teach and prepare! (Or indeed, that we actually prepare - well I do, I know that much for sure. I resisted a shouted invitation to a fundraising event last week with the genuine excuse that I had to prepare for a teaching session the next day. 'You prepare?' said the student, incredulous. I suppose I could see it as praise but it also worried me that it wasn't clear to people that I do! However she clarified it by saing that she thought all teachers just 'made it up' - which is, I suppose, one of the luxuries I miss about studio cruising: you don't really have to prepare at all, just art direct all day.
But proper teaching (ahem), well that does sap you. I'm particularly concerned about the way I have to spend evenings and (like today) weekends planning because of my part time status - I've no office in which to do it and am not paid for admin time (my hourly rate includes preparation of course, but the fact I have to try and make money in every spare hour means I can't really allocate the time during the week.)
But I digress. My colleague and I weren't moaning at the management or whatever (the situation is repeated everywhere, by the way) but simply worried about how long we could keep 'the act' up. It's difficult swtiching off the concerns and delivering what amounts to a performance to students. My colleage was wondering if his students were picking up on his tiredness and if it was having an effect - if we look bored and listless we can't expect them to be enthused, can we?
The same thing has occurred to me earlier in the week. Last Tuesday I delivered a session that I had planned meticulously and which should have run smoothly, but I was in absolute agony with a food allergy (wheat) that caused me to forget which DVDs I was supposed to be playing, what key terms meant and why I'd written most of the slides I'd produced. When the last student left the room and I heard the door lock shut I was literally doubled over with the pain. But after it had gone I spent most of the rest of the week feeling miserable that a potentially good and useful session must have come across as a badly prepared shambles. And of course it's these later sessions that get remembered when the students come to write their end of course feedback!
Well there's nothing you can do about things like that, I suppose, but we are in that time of year when it feels like the last few yards of a really tiring swim, when you're in the deep end and you daren't stop because you know you'll drown so you have to keep going until you can grab the side of the pool. Easter's only two weeks away now and, although I love teaching, I'm starting to look forward to the break. After Easter, of course, teaching stops for me and it's back to flipping burgers on Thursdays and Fridays. At the moment the prospect of two days off a week is enticing (you should see the pile of books I've lined up to read) but it won't be long before I start to worry about the bank balance. You can't win, it seems. Too much to do or too little - and both as stressful as the other!
There's an interesting article in today's Observer about a Design Council pilot scheme to look at how the design of a classroom can be challenged to overcome problems associated with the traditional 'teacher's desk at the front' arrangement.
When I visit universities to talk about teaching large classes I always encourage tutors to move around the room or at least stand in the middle. My best advice to a couple of tutors who rely on laptops to project Powerpoint slides has been to invest in a cheap remote control so they can stand nearer the students instead of several feet away. I finally got a new battery for my own the other day after weeks of having to stand near the computer and it was amazing how much better the session went.
Unfortunately the rooms I teach in now are so full I'm forced to stand at the front (and I notice I naturally 'teach to the left' as it were, my gaze tending to favour one side of the room.) There are simple ways around this - teaching to an invisible 'T', the back row and the middle column, tends to include everyone, for example.
But in the last place I taught we had a traditional ranked lecture theatre which allowed me to walk up and down the steps so I could cue a new slide and walk up, TV presenter-like, and talk directly to the students instead of relying on the first few rows. It was a great way of encouraging the usual 'back row' lot to take part. It's surprising how much effect something as simple as standing among the students can have on the dynamics of a session.
The rest of the article is well worth reading...
The Observer | UK News | In this school, the classroom revolution is now a reality - all 360 degrees of it: "A new teaching system, revolutionary in more than one sense, has been developed and tested in secret. Known as the 360 degree flexible classroom, it challenges the techniques used by teachers down the ages. Although the year eight boys of St Margaret's High School in Aigburth look conventional enough as they file into class in their ties and blazers, they are effectively entering a Tardis full of futuristic gadgetry. When their afternoon maths lesson begins, far from having to keep themselves awake by flicking elastic bands at each other, they are careering around the room on wheels. Instead of simply standing at the front, their teacher, Tim Wadsworth, circles them on a curved 'racetrack', occasionally taking up a position on a podium in the centre of the room. No longer can reluctant students skulk at the back of the class or plant themselves on the periphery of the teacher's field of vision. To the outsider the scene looks chaotic, but for the designers of this prototype and the children who have studied in it for seven weeks now, the classroom is a hit. Twelve-year-old pupil Daniel Pinder, who has maths and German lessons in the new round room, explained the benefits of the pilot project. 'We do much more group work now - it is better because of the shape of the room. If the teachers ask us to get into groups of four we just take the brakes off our chairs and move,' he said. His classmates sit at their own Q-Pods, special table and chair units on wheels."
There's a very good counter-argument to this article from The Times but the observations aren't new, and I'm not unsympathetic to them. But I like a challenge so I'll think of a suitable riposte later. In the meantime, here's the gist of the article, which starts as a critique of the 'fact' that everyone in the US (including the author) now wander round in a white earbud-induced cocoon:
"Walk through any airport in the United States these days and you will see person after person gliding through the social ether as if on autopilot. Get on a subway and you're surrounded by a bunch of Stepford commuters staring into mid-space as if anaesthetised by technology. Don't ask, don't tell, don't overhear, don't observe. Just tune in and tune out.
It wouldn't be so worrying if it weren't part of something even bigger. Americans are beginning to narrow their lives.
You get your news from your favourite blogs, the ones that won't challenge your view of the world. You tune into a satellite radio service that also aims directly at a small market - for new age fanatics, liberal talk or Christian rock. Television is all cable. Culture is all subculture. Your cell phones can receive e-mail feeds of your favourite blogger's latest thoughts - seconds after he has posted them - get sports scores for your team or stock quotes of your portfolio.
Technology has given us a universe entirely for ourselves - where the serendipity of meeting a new stranger, hearing a piece of music we would never choose for ourselves or an opinion that might force us to change our mind about something are all effectively banished.
Atomisation by little white boxes and cell phones. Society without the social. Others who are chosen - not met at random."
My Bush joke was a deliberate provocation.
Under a 2004 Act of Parliament, introduced after 9/11, the USA has the power to demand the arrest and deportation of any UK citizen it believes has committed a crime against it. The US does not have to present any reasons for the request, or proof of a reasonable case.
The reverse is not true - the UK government cannot demand the extradition of a US citizen (or even one of its own) without presenting a reasonable case before a judge, as to do so would be against the US constitution.
Of course, this arrangement was not just dreamt up by the UK government one night, it was initiated by the USA which seems keen to talk about constitutional rights at home, but all too eager to ignore them when it suits (i.e. abroad).
There is a tug of war going on at the moment as a result of this bizarre arrangement. Three UK bankers have been accused of conspiring with the Enron accountants to defraud the NatWest bank of $7m.
UK citizens are accused of committing a crime in the UK against a UK bank, but the US wants them to stand trial in Houston, Texas. Makes perfect sense.
The 'Enron Three' have only one get-out clause: they can't be deported if they are already standing trial in the UK. But the Serious Fraud Office (SFO) has refused to prosecute them because - get this - there are already proceedings against them in the US!
So the three bankers have taken the unusual step of seeking a judicial review of the SFO's decision not to prosecute.
There are good reasons for them to go to such lengths. For one thing they will most likely languish in a US jail for two years before the trial begins (as 'flight risks' with no US address they wouldn't be allowed bail). For another, they claim being tried in Houston - Enron's home town - will not guarantee them a fair trial. And, if found guilty, they would face far harsher sentences than in the UK.
But there is another, far more worrying factor here. The UK has extradition agreements with a lot of countries but the common factor seems to be that they are all signatories to the Convention on Human Rights. The USA, famously, is not.
It's quite possible this story is not being covered in the USA. In fact, it's not exactly front page news over here in the UK. After all, who's interested in three bankers being accused of fraud? Particularly when we've got a star footballer and his pop star wife having a baby, and a right royal cock up over the marriage of the Prince of Wales to Camilla Parker-Bowles?
I've only heard about this story through the New Statesman magazine (which also seemed to be the only source of criticism of the Act when it was first proposed). Yet it seems to be one of major importance.
My joke could be seen as an incitement to kill the President and it's not impossible that some district attorney or federal prosecutor in the USA could request my arrest and extradition - and there'd be nothing to stop it.
Think that's a bit of an exaggeration? Well look again at the story above - three Britons, accused of a crime in Britain, against a British bank. The only 'interest' from a US perspective is the alleged involvement of someone from Enron - there's not even a 'terrorist' connection, which was the reason for the Act in the first place!
If you're reading this in the USA and think it's less than ideal that the US has the power to arrest and extradite British citizens without presenting a case, please tell someone who you think should do something about it.
So George Bush came to Europe this week, and managed to piss just about everybody off in the process.
Apparently everywhere he went, there were snipers on every roof. And still he got away.
Oh I feel like a schoolboy again! At the time of writing it's 32 days, 19 hours and 32 minutes until the new series of Doctor Who begins (not that I've got a counter running on my desktop or anything sad like that. Oh no).
The first 'official' photos from the series have leaked on to the net and I grabbed copies. I know you want to see but just in case you're putting it off until you see it for real I'll just post links rather than the actual images. (The images are taking some time to upload to my server so keep trying - I'm synchronising a lot of stuff at the moment).
The first one shows Christopher Ecclestone in the grip of a familiar enemy (I won't tell you who it is, even though it's not a secret, just in case you really are looking to be surprised next month and know your Who mythology - if you don't you'll be none the wiser).
The second shows Billie Piper (who I have to admit is rather fanciable - hope there's an action figure!) in what looks like the new TARDIS console room - but it doesn't give too much away about the interior so feel free to have a look).
I have to say, it's looking good from these two shots. The trailers proper start soon - can't wait.
Yes, I'm a sad SF fan boy. We all need our vices.
I saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind last weekend. It's a film that I completely missed when it was on release, and I think the few times I heard someone mention it I equated the title with a 'feelgood' or 'life affirming' movie that I wouldn't enjoy.
But it got lots of mentions in end of year reviews and Simon Pegg, who wrote and directed Shaun of the Dead and was one of the creators of the genius TV comedy Spaced, put it on his list of top movies of 2004.
So I thought I'd give it a go, despite the fact it has Jim Carrey in the lead role. I'm not a fan of his at all, and I've found that potentially good movies have been spoilt with his casting. However, that's a personal opinion that I know is at odds with most people, so what do I know?
Anyway. This film is not at all what I expected. It has the feel of a low budget European movie with lots of handheld camera work, a non-linear plot (that's a poor description - you'll find yourself wondering if you've missed a bit about 20 minutes in, and gradually things start to make sense, but so slowly that it'll be half an hour after the film's finished that you think 'oh, I get it...') and some great acting. Oh and Kirsten Dunst in her pants jumping up and down on a bed. And Kate Winslett finally playing a role that shows she can be a good actor. (I used to live near her - well, near where she used to live when she was growing up. If things had been different she could have divorced me; ah, fate).
Carrey is very good - occasionally he lapses into his usual goofiness but on the whole he comes across as a guy waiting for a good script. He's a bit like Tom Hanks in that respect - another actor I disliked after his early films but who's found salvation in good writing and good direction.
The plot is intriguing, and quite science fictiony at heart, but you wouldn't know it when you're watching it. I won't give away too much but it will ring a bell for anyone who's been in love, fallen out of love, wished you'd never met the other person, and then found yourself bumping into them in the bizarrest circumstances and doing it all over again.
A good film for a night in and a bottle of wine but it will surprise you I think, particularly if you're expecting something like Bruce Almighty.
The other weekend, before giving up sweets (or 'candy' as the Americans call them) for Lent, I had a bit of a blow-out. I went to the local supermarket and bought a few bags of sweets and sat watching TV while pigging out.
Sundays were always sweets day when i was growing up. We'd be given £1 to go to Harrisons, a sweet shop about 10 minutes walk away (though it seemed longer). We'd buy a selection of things like Midget Gems, Sherbert Bon Bons, Liquorice torpedos, all in quater-pound bags or, if money was tight, 2 ounce bags. And the owner would measure out the sweets from a glass jar into his scales and pop them in a white paper bag.
If there was any money left over we'd buy penny chews: Black Jacks, Fruit Salad and all the rest.
Ah, those were the days...
It's quite rare to find shops that still sell sweets this way. Most sweet shops are closed down now, but as the story below from the Guardian suggests, the market is growing again. I noticed the pub we met in before we went to play bingo the other week sold sweets from jars.
While I was eating my hoard I briefly considered opneing a sweet shop, wondering if it would be successful in Brighton. I reckon it would...
Something interesting in the article, if you read the full version, is an explanation of the British love of boiled sweets. It seems that our colonies included most of the sugar producing countries in the world, so sugar - once a luxury and very expensive - became so cheap that anyone could buy it and use it to make things. Consequently the boiled sweet industry grew up, supported by lots of small businesses making sweets from their kitchens.
In France, meanwhile, sugar remained expensive as their colonies weren't sugar-producing. But they did have lots of gum, so whereas we had boiled sweets, the French came up with chews. And it seems one Frenchman brought his gum skills to Britain and invented Rowntrees fruit pastilles, something we remain grateful for to this day.
If you fancy treating yourself to some authentic British sweets, try aquarterof.com. By law, things can't be sold in quarter pounds anymore so they're sold in quarter kilos instead. Not quite the same.
Guardian Unlimited | The Guardian | Sugar candy kisses: "The bell tinkles as you push open the door of the sweet shop and then you are inside, gazing up at row upon row of shining glass jars crammed with multicoloured globules that seem to beckon at you from behind the counter. Then there are boxes of delicacies closer to hand: liquorice bootlaces, lollipops, fruit salad chews, gobstoppers, all temptingly displayed on every available surface...It sounds like a childhood dream, but I have just had exactly this experience in an old-fashioned sweet shop in south-east London, where all our favourite boiled sweets - which you may imagine no longer exist - are still on sale, weighed out by the quarter. The odd thing is, the sweet shop, Hope & Greenwood in East Dulwich, is not some old family concern but a brand new business, set up last August in an effort to capitalise on a surge in interest in old-fashioned sweets in local stores, supermarkets and internet sites. If you know where to look, you can still buy Space Dust (or something like it called Fiz Wiz), barley sugar, traffic light lollies, Bazooka bubble gum, kola kubes, sherbet pips, rhubarb and custards, clove balls, parma violets, sherbet fountains - even sweet 'Spanish' tobacco. These classic sweets still look and taste exactly the same: the recipes do not change and most are still made by the same companies. All that has been lying dormant is our lust for them." Read more
From today's Guardian. Can't say I'm surprised ;-)
Guardian Unlimited | Arts news | Official: Britons are most cultured Europeans: "The Italians have Michelangelo, the French Molière and the Germans Beethoven. But, according to an Italian survey, the British - the beer-swilling, tabloid-reading, supposedly sports-crazy British - are more cultured than any of them. They go to more concerts, films, plays, galleries and libraries than almost anyone in Europe. They even manage to visit more ruins and monuments than the Italians." Read more...
The couple in the basement flat next door to me are moving out today, which is a shame. I don't know them at all - I think I said 'hi' to one of them once in the past 18 months - but they are quiet, which is a real bonus. (Well, let's just say that they are mostly quiet. I've learnt an awful lot about lesbianism since I moved here - I'll leave it at that for now).
The street I'm on is generally really good (certainly at my end - as you go further down it turns a bit studenty and noisier). The flat at the top of next door is occupied by someone who's taken to playing dance music until 5am every so often, but the council are on to them so fingers crossed. The other day they had friends round and were cheering out of the window from 7pm until 2am - for no reason...
But I'm worried about these two moving out because there's a chance some raving party animal will take their place. I once had the misfortune to live above someone who was in to mixing, but only seemed to mix the same few seconds of the same record. It was so loud my flat used to shake.
I'm not sure what it is about people that makes them decide they're going to ruin other people's quiet enjoyment of their own homes. Seems about as selfish as you can get.
I'm hoping that as the flats round here are quite expensive (well over £150,000 to buy and at least £600 per month to rent) that whoever moves in will be respectful of the neighbourhood. Otherwise I can see myself having to move out again in the vain search for some peace and quiet.
One of the benefits of the Kyoto treaty which came in to force this week is the emphasis on alternative forms of energy, such as wind farms.
But I'm sceptical myself. I'm worried that if we create too many wind farms we may soon find ourselves over-farming to such an extent that within a generation there'll be no wind left!
It's a worry...
From today's Guardian, an interesting plan by american publishers to reverse the decline in readers:
"There is a crisis in literature. Readers have stopped reading, drawn instead to other perhaps more modish forms of entertainment.Sales are down, authors are despondent, salons are closing and literary lunches have become drab affairs.But US publishers have come to the rescue. Literature's woes, they have decided, lie in the smallness of the print.'Many people over the ripe old age of 40 are starting to have trouble reading, and reading mass market books has become very difficult,' Jane Friedman, president and chief executive officer of HarperCollins told the Associated Press.The answer is obvious: publishers are to make books bigger, thereby making space for larger print on the page and solving in one swoop the malaise affecting literature."
More...
I got a bizarre email today offering tickets to go and see a new show being recorded for ITV, our main commercial free-to-air channel here in the UK. Looks classy ;-)
We would like to offer you free tickets to attend the recording of the fantastic new ITV1 entertainment show ‘CELEBRITY WRESTLING’.
*** TOP CELEBRITY GUESTS FIGHTING IT OUT FOR YOUR AMUSEMENT***
CELEBRITY WRESTLING is a fun filled show for all the family with amazing entertainment throughout the evening. If you’re energetic and like to make a lot of noise this show is definitely for you!
So if you, your friends, family or colleagues are free next Tuesday 22nd or Wednesday 23rd and fancy a fantastic FREE night’s worth of entertainment, give us a call RIGHT NOW! TICKETS ARE VERY LIMITED AND SUBJECT TO AVAILABILITY
***OTHER DATES AVAILABLE!! CALL FOR FURTHER DETAILS***
The show will be recorded at Elstree Film & TV Studios, Borehamwood Herts (nearest train station Elstree & Borehamwood - Thameslink).
For free tickets please call 0208 324 2700
There's a new Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy trailer available at the Amazon Trailers site containing actual footage of the film (unlike the official 'teaser').
It's difficult to judge it from what we see here and I've got mixed feelings about a few things, largely because some of the classic lines here sound different to the ones ingrained on my memory from the original radio broadcasts, records and BBC TV series. For example, Arthur Dent's 'what the hell is THAT!' is changed to 'what the hell are those things?' and, picky as I know it sounds, it's not... quite... right.
I have this dreadful feeling that I'm going to go and see this film and be reciting the script in my head and noticing all the changes :-(
Anyway, good points: looks good, Arthur Dent seems faithful to the original, effects shots are top notch, Magrathea looks like a sand pit in England (so faithful to Douglas Adams's experience as script editor on Doctor Who and the BBC's original TV series)
Bad points: maybe too slick to be truly ironic, Ford Prefect is American (that's not an anti-American statement, but it doesn't quite sit right with the parochial nature of the opening Earth section), Zaphod's second head is mostly hidden, Marvin - depite my early thoughts - doesn't look right (from the 2 seconds you can see him in this) and the music...
If you watch the trailer listen at the end - isn't that the Men in Black music? Now I know that trailers are often given fake scores because the music isn't ready, but this seems a bit odd. And for some reason, I think if they don't use the classic Hitchhikers theme it'd be a shame.
But I'm still looking forward to it. The books, radio plays, records and TV series contradicted each other dreadfully and that's part of the fun.
What with this coming out April/May, the third Star Wars film in May, and the new series of Doctor Who on 26 March I think 2005 is turning into a bit of a retro year...
(Update) According to SFX magazine, the theme music will be a remixed version of the original. And apparently it is the Danny Elfman Men in Black music on the trailer, but the final film will have music provided by the same composer who scored The League of Gentlemen TV series, so should be good...
There's also a better Quicktime version of the trailer available from what looks like a slightly dodgy source.
I decided today (after discovering that £700 had vanished without explanation from my bank account leaving me in a rather desperate situation) to put about 40 books (3% of my collection) up for sale on Amazon.co.uk. Mostly stuff like 'Dreamweaver 2.0 Unleashed' and so on - stuff there's really no point in keeping hold of.
I've just opened my email program and what do you know, I've already sold two books! Grand total £16.04 in just one hour!
I should've asked for more.
I don't want to get carried away here, obviously, but maybe this could be the answer to the imminent disappearance of my main job (I say imminent - I have until December to find something else). This time next year, as Del Boy would say, I'll be a millionaire...
The Mayor of London, Ken Livingstone, is in hot water this week after being accused of making an anti-Jewish remark to a reporter for the Evening Standard. The London Assembly voted unanimously to censure him, but he has refused to apologies saying his comment may have been offensive, but it was not racist.
It appears that a reporter for the Evening Standard, a paper that famously detests Livingstone, was sent to report on who attended a reception to mark 20 years since Chris Smith, former arts minister, came out as gay. A photographer grabbed pictures of everyone present.
As Livingstone left the reporter pursued him asking questions repeatedly, in response to which Livingstone asked him if he was a concentration camp guard, simply carrying out orders and effectively hiding behind the political will of his paymasters. It was a comment made in the knowledge that the reporter was Jewish and obviously made with the intention of causing the same level of offence that the reporter was causing him. The Standard has, it seems, reported Livingstone's private life in great detail and made many allegations against him in the past that he has found offensive and hurtful.
But now it seems everyone is offended - the Jewish community has claimed to be profoundly hurt by the comments and claimed that it is offensive and insensitive to compare someone to a Nazi, particularly givven the recent commemoration of the liberation of Auschwitz etc etc.
I have to say I think Livingstone is right to refuse to apologise. He said yesterday, with refreshing honesty, that the easy thing to do would be to say sorry, but that he wouldn't mean it. His comment was aimed at an individual who was behaving offensively. The paper concerned had apparently shown little interest in covering other receptions but chose to send a reporter and photographer to one celebrating homosexuality, presumably with the intention of covering it in a less than polite manner. The reporter claimed to be, in effect, simply following orders - which was of course the excuse used by those who worked at the concentration camps (which were not just a Jewish affair, incidentally - or is saying that 'anti-Jewish'?)
In that context his remarks are understandable. In the context of a private conversation they aren't even relevant to public debate. But the whole story has become politically charged with the Standard and their sister paper The Mail delighting in whipping up a frenzy, and it even became a topic of questions at a reception for the International Olympic Committee yesterday. But that's okay - throw away our chances of hosting the Olympics for a front page 'exclusive', why not?
Yes, the remark was offensive to the reporter. It was meant to be. But it wasn't aimed at Jews in general, so why the fuss? I worry that there are too many comunities around today who are willing to stifle discourse because they are 'offended' by it, and too many people who politely give in. We had it with a play set in a temple that was closed down after a riot in Birmingham because people who hadn't seen it and didn't understand the point it tried to make decided they found it 'offensive'. And then there are the Christian groups who are taking the BBC to court for blasphemy after broadcasting Jerry Springer: The Opera. This is getting stupid. And the fact I feel uncomfortable 'having a go' at Jews for being upset about a comment about concentration camps is also worrying.
And here's the main point, that seems to have escaped everyone's attention. It was an anti-fascist remark, not anti-Jewish. It was intended to underline the point that the Standard appeared to be pursuing an anti-gay agenda, persecuting anyone in the public eye who is either gay or supportive of gays. Personally I don't think Livingstone was nearly offensive enough.
Pro-hunt campaigners in the UK lost their appeal against the law banning hunting with dogs that comes into force this weekend.
Good.
What irritates me about this bunch is that they took the government to court claiming the ban was illegal, and lost. Now they say the ban is unenforceable and have vowed to continue hunting.
Hang on a minute - you can't turn to the courts to change the law and then, when the result goes against you, decide to break the law. If you have no regard for the law, why appeal? It's hypocricy and, if they do kill any foxes this weekend, quite literally bloody hypocricy.
The pro-hunters are clinging to an opinion poll that shows support for the ban has dropped below 50% (from over 60% five years ago). But the poll also shows a rise in thenumber of people who no longer care - and this is worrying. Even I am so fed up with the length of time it's taken to get this ban in force, and the sheer bloody mindedness of the idiots involved, who tend to be the sort of people who think ramblers should be shot on sight, but think they're above the law, that sometimes I want to say 'whatever' just to get the focus back on life's little problems like child poverty, third world debt, the housing shortage - but maybe I'm just missing the bigger issue.
Hunt supporters have lost their latest legal appeal against the law banning hunting with dogs in England and Wales. The Countryside Alliance had claimed the 1949 Parliament Act, which MPs used to introduce the Hunting Act after House of Lords opposition, is invalid.
The Appeal Court ruled against them - meaning the ban will start on Friday.
The RSPCA said the judges' decision shows the group's arguments are "wafer thin", but the alliance vowed to fight on and said hunting would continue. "On Saturday hunting will look, sound and smell exactly the same as it always did" Simon Hart, Countryside Alliance
Pro-hunt groups say the ban is unenforceable, but both the League Against Cruel Sports and the RSPCA say they will help police to monitor the hunts." Read more...
My home town of York (not been? You should!) holds three records of particular note: the only place in England where you can see evidence of every major historical period, the most haunted place in the country (per capita I assume), and the most pubs per square mile. I always assumed the last two claims were linked somehow.
Anyway, today I spotted a news story that builders had dug up a Roman coffin complete with 'gypsum mummy'. Apparently the technique was to encase the body in gypsum so that when it decayed it left a perfect cast of the corpse behind.
How nice - you could put it on the mantle piece.
There's a short video of the story here, it's quite interesting. Note the authentic York accents - sadly mine's long gone, though it comes out when I'm angry.
The building site is actually behind my old school - spooky.
One of the most famous York ghost stories concerns a plumber and his assistant in the 1950s who were in the cellar of the Treasurer's House, an old Tudor mansion (I think) next to the Minster. They apparently saw a ghostly legion of Roman soldiers walking through the cellar - the weird thing being that the army could only be seen from the waist up, everything else was below ground level.
When people began digging around later they discovered an old Roman road running underneath the building - and the depth of the road was such that anyone standing on it would come waist high to the new ground level...
I wish I hadn't told you that as it's now my bed time and it's suddenly gone very cold.
Oh well, while I'm at it...
A pub on Goodramgate, just inside the city walls, has a few ghosts but one of them was of an American pilot who stayed there during the second world war, during which he was killed. For years his ghost haunted his old bedroom - quite a friendly spirit apparently.
Anyway, this ghost was well known in the city as I was growing up (I mean well known as in 'known about' rather than 'we often saw him floating around the place') and was included on the 'Ghost Walks' which every city seems to have now, but which started in York.
A few years ago, after I'd left the city for pastures new, the ghost was reported 'missing'! There had been no reports of any activity from it at all. (Not that the pub suffered as it has another, rather more vicious ghost to keep the tourists happy).
Then a few weeks later the landlord got a phonecall from a rather worried American who had stayed there just before the ghost went missing, wanting to know if they'd noticed anything missing. Apparently, the ghost was now living with her in the US!
Most people are happy to buy a postcard or a plaster cast of the Minster, but this woman got a souvenir with a difference.
BBC NEWS | England | North Yorkshire | Mummified body found during dig: "Archaeologists working in York have discovered an ancient coffin containing a preserved body.
Workers made the find during development work and discovered the body had been mummified using a rare technique.
The body, possibly dating from Roman times, has been well so well preserved historians are hoping the facial features can still be seen.
The coffin is being taken to the York Museum Trust for examination on Tuesday
A spokesman explained the discovery of the mummification technique, known as the gypsum technique, is the first to be found during a modern dig.
'If we are very lucky the face may not have been covered so it is possible the actual features of the individual may have been preserved.
'It may be possible to actually look into the face of one of our ancestors,' he said.
The coffin will be taken to a storage site and later rehoused at the Yorkshire Museum."
I have to say I'm rather impressed with my iPod Shuffle. It's tiny,
light, sounds great - and the two things that its critics have focussed
on (the lack of screen and the random play) are actually its greatest
strengths.
I've set mine up to autofill from a playlist in iTunes that consists of
any rock music that I haven't heard in the past year (about 4000
tracks) and over the past couple of weeks just walking to and from
work, and using it at the gym, I've made a fair dent in that.
I'm listening to music I forgot I had, and rediscovering some great
tunes. And the juxtapositions of artists and styles the iPod comes up
with it quite interesting. I don't seem to have the patience to sit
through an entire album now, so this is a great way for me to listen to
loads of music without having to change CDs or rely on compilations.
The Shuffle also works brilliantly as a data storage device - I've
reserved about 100Mb of the 1Gig for files and it's been a real
godsend.
And I only spent about £60... for 1Gig! That's a tiny amount to pay.
Only problem is it's so small no one knows I've got one - and I think I
might be the first person in Brighton with one. So no jealousy
quotient, which is a shame as I've noticed since Christmas that
everyone has an iPod or iPod mini. Last week I saw my first
non-traditional iPod owner - by which I mean up until now most people
with the white earbuds have looked like media types. Now they seem to
have tipped into other social groups. (I did spot someone on the bus
the other day who had iPod earbuds plugged into a well-hidden Creative
MP3 player - hell, it was ugly!) So the drive for social distinction
goes on.
Anyway, strongly recommended. I still have my 40Gig iPod for long
journeys, and it's mainly filled with classical music. But my Shuffle
is the one I'm carrying day to day.
I haven't decided if I should wear it round my neck on the lanyard
thing - I'm not sure I can pull that one off. And although I have an
armband on order from Amazon I might cancel it as it really fits neatly
into my pocket. Minor issues :-)
I think these things are going to fly off the shelves.
More legal news. I'm not sure where I stand on this whole Apple v the rumour sites issue. I read a lot of the rumour sites avidly, and I'm a bit disturbed by Apple's heavy handed approach. But (a little inconsistently for me) I also think they have a point, and that the whole civil liberties and freedom of the press issue is being wrongly played here. (I'm a big advocate of Britain's unwritten constitution - it comes in very handy sometimes, as Charles's engagement to Camilla last week showed!)
Investigative journalism is undeniably essential in matters of public interest, such as crimes or corruption. But stealing a company's secrets is hardly 'in the public interest' - it may be of interest to the public but that's completely different. If a company is developing something that gives it a competitive edge over a rival, well that's interesting. But stealing that secret, or soliciting the stealing of that secret, risks an awful lot - perhaps even people's jobs and livelihoods.
And protecting a criminal is not covered, I would say, by constitutional rights, so this doesn't strike me as a 'protecting sources' thing.
So what about the issue about the status of people who operate these websites as being journalists? That's a tricky one because by that token I am a journalist for writing this blog, as is a woman who might run a site that interviews Osama Bin Laden. I'm protected, she's protected: we're all journalists now...
The Republican and Democratic party conventions last year gave press passes to blog-owners, and Apple's own keynote was covered live by blogs presumably there on press passes, so as far as those organisations are concerened, they are journalists. However in Apple's defence they stopped issuing press credentials to rumour sites a few years ago, if memory serves, so they have some sort of criteria - presumably the law should too. If it's not written in statute then it's up to the courts to rule, and that seems to be what might happen in the case announced today. If the EFF's argument succeeds then I assume I can legitimately put 'journalist' on my passport.
Mind you, considering the standards of some 'real' journalists, I think I'd be stupid to sink so low.
BBC NEWS | Technology | Apple attacked over sources row: "Civil liberties group the Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF) has joined a legal fight between three US online journalists and Apple.
Apple wants the reporters to reveal 20 sources used for stories which leaked information about forthcoming products, including the Mac Mini.
The EFF, representing the reporters, has asked California's Superior court to stop Apple pursuing the sources.
It argues that the journalists are protected by the American constitution.
The EFF says the case threatens the basic freedoms of the press."
The longest legal case in British history is finally over, it seems. The McLibel pair, who were sued by McDonald's after handing out leaflets alleging all sorts of things, have won their case against the government who denied them legal aid. By law, legal aid is not given for libel actions but, as these two successfully argued, that amounts to denying them the right to defend their right to free speech - if you see what I mean.
The libel laws here are a bit bizarre. If you are libelled or slandered, it is extremely costly to sue someone, and almost impossible to win your case as you have to show that the things said about you are not true.
But, as this case shows, if you have the money you can sue to your heart's content and, as usually happens, hope your weaker opponent rolls over. And if they don't, and you can afford good counsel, you're likely to win on obscure details rather than the broader truth.
The 'nice' thing about the McLibel case was the defendants insisted on answering each and every one of McDonald's complaints against them in painful detail, in open court. Although in the end they 'lost', the final judgement was damning for the company. Makes you proud to be British!
BBC NEWS | UK | 'McLibel' pair win legal aid case: "The legal wrangle - the longest civil or criminal action in English legal history - was triggered when McDonald's decided to act against former gardener Helen Steel, 39, and former postman David Morris, 50.
Libellous leaflets
The leaflets they handed out, containing damaging allegations about McDonald's, were compiled by London Greenpeace - which is not linked to the Greenpeace International environmental group.
Neither Ms Steel nor Mr Morris had any hand in writing the leaflets, but became embroiled in a libel action launched in 1990 and which ended only in 1997 - with a total of 314 days spent in court.
High Court judge Mr Justice Bell ruled McDonald's had been libelled and awarded the company £60,000 in damages, which was later reduced to £40,000 on appeal.
But he found the leaflet was true when it accused McDonald's of paying low wages to its workers, being responsible for cruelty to some of the animals used in its food products and exploiting children in advertising campaigns.
The case is thought to have cost the fast food giant £10m and was described as 'the biggest corporate PR disaster in history'."
Read more
I was thinking about jet-lag today, for some reason. I've only flown
twice (to Ireland and back) so have never suffered from it myself. But
according to some people, we are affected differently by jet-lag
depending on whether we fly east-west or west-east.
But why not when we fly north-south or south-north?
Think about it...
Mention ‘bingo’ to anyone and the first image that will flash into their minds is probably one of old women with blue rinses whiling away the final hours of their life as they wait in vain for their lucky numbers.
But bingo is big business in Britain and the backbone of a multi-million pound industry, a key component in the portfolio of some of the FTSE’s biggest companies. Mecca Bingo is one of three companies in the Rank Group’s ‘gaming’ division, the others being Grosvenor Casinos and the Blue Square online bookies. Boasting over three million members and 120 clubs, Mecca recently launched an advertising campaign designed to make bingo appealing to young women, selling the experience as being escapist and an opportunity to meet interesting and desirable people.
So how does the hype live up to reality?
As part of a course I'm running this year called 'Worst Course Ever - The Simpsons Family Guide to Cultural Studies' I took some of my second year art and design students to play bingo. I thought actually taking part would be far better than reading an academic treatise on it or sitting through a lecture. There was a serious point to the exercise: one of the main focuses of the course is 'everyday culture', and I try to make the point that the things we take for granted are worth studying because they form the everyday backdrop to our lives, and are the primary sites at which we construct meaning for those lives. So off we went. (You can see larger images of the photos here)
Mecca’s website is friendly enough with engaging, trendy graphics and an obvious tie-in to the advertising campaign. But no matter how hard the site tries, the rules of bingo – which you would think are quite simple – come across as overly complicated. In actual fact, the rules themselves are simple enough but the terminology proves to be the biggest problem: ‘Sessions’ (of which there are three, with the third being split into two), ‘pages’ (a number of tickets for the same game), ‘flyers’ (a single page of tickets), ‘tickets’ (a grid of fifteen numbers), ‘sets’ (books and flyers sold together), ‘books’ (a series of tickets for different games), and ‘all in’ (a set of six books and flyers sold together at one price).
Hang on, there’s more: A ‘link game’ is one where several clubs play together; a ‘diamond game’ is played every afternoon Tuesday to Friday with up to a £9,000 prize; and the ‘national game’ played every evening – except Saturday when it’s played in the afternoon as well – in which all clubs play together for £100,000 and up to £200,000 on a Sunday. According to the website, these terms are all you need to know…
Playing bingo isn’t as simple as just turning up on the night. Apparently by law you need to join a club at least 24 hours in advance, so your first game at least needs to be planned in advance. The sign-up procedure is simple enough (I signed up online and a form was posted to me a few days later) and all being well you should receive a membership card (I never did) though your details are on Mecca’s computer so you can play before you get the coveted bit of plastic.
We went on a Thursday night, mainly because it’s free on Thursdays. The Mecca bingo hall in Brighton is situated on Middle Street near the sea front and just off the Lanes district, so it’s easy to get to if you’re based in town but it’s a long way from the large housing estates that probably provide most of its clientele. The hall itself is the former Hippodrome, which started life as an ice rink in 1897 before quickly being converted into a theatre, forming the jewel in the crown of a local music hall empire that, in its heyday and before cinema and TV, was a major form of entertainment in Britain. Before it went the way of most music halls and picture houses and succumbed to the bingo craze, the Hippodrome secured a small footnote in music history when the Beatles played there in 1963, firstly supporting Roy Orbison and then on two occasions afterwards as headline acts.
The hall is an excellent example of the theatre architecture of the period. Mecca’s stained glass frontage lends it an air of the sacred and, indeed, this is very much a temple to fun – although the choice of ‘Mecca’ as the name is a little distasteful given the gambling.
Entering was something of a letdown – a plain white foyer with a faded desk and an equally faded old man who asked for our cards. I noticed, as we entered, that two young women who were looking through some leaflets looked up at the men in our group and seemed to decide they were coming in if we were typical of what was on offer (I exclude myself from that). It’s difficult to describe the feeling of anticipation and nervousness as we walked through the doors into… another hallway. It was like going to an old swimming pool where you can see in to where everyone is having fun but first you need to go through several turnstiles before you’re allowed in. We came to a woman behind another counter that looked like a cloakroom but was in fact the ticket desk. We had been prepared to pay good money to play but it turned out we could each have a ‘free book’ which we took gratefully. But requests for help as first timers were turned down because she was too busy (she wasn’t – we were the only people in the queue) and we were told to ask one of the staff inside.
So eventually we got into the hall itself. The auditorium remains, with ranks of seats reaching up to the high ceiling. Some Mecca halls still host variety nights so it’s possible the seats are used, but if you dared to look up it was quite a sad sight. All the action was taking place on the floor with tables arranged in circles around a central dais. We made straight for the bar, like people gate-crashing a party where we didn’t know anyone. In the background we could hear the caller intoning numbers; it reminded me of an episode of Doctor Who in which the inhabitants of the planet Logopolis manipulate the structure of space by muttering calculations, and although I’m sure I was alone in making that connection I suspect a similar thing was happening here, with hundreds of people literally willing the next number to be theirs. You could feel matter being tranformed as a thousand brains worked together, like some sort of psychic experiment. Or maybe not.
While half our group tried to find somewhere to sit, negotiating the complex minefield of table ownership, some of us opted to buy a drink instead. I made my first mistake by standing behind the people at the bar in the traditional way, only to be told firmly by the old woman in front of me (Phyllis, it turned out) that I had to stand in line. So I did. Lee, who stood behind me, asked the barman if anything was on offer. ‘Only Phyllis’ he said, at which the old woman perked up and eyed Lee up and down. ‘I’ll just have the lager then’ said Lee. ‘No offence’.
We found some seats together and tried to make sense of the game. The caller was firing out colours and numbers in quick succession: ‘blue number forty three red number twelve white number sixty three’ – and on and on until ‘we’ve got a call’ at which point it started again. We were a bit confused as the pages of our books (or were they flyers?) were each coloured differently. Were we supposed to leaf through the book and mark numbers depending on what colour page they were on? Or could we just decide we were going to play one colour per game? After a couple of goes at doing that and realising we were only marking a small range of numbers we realised that, for now, the game was based on a console printed into the table for which markers were available. A slot in the centre enabled us to put money in to play, and we tried a few games without much success.
Then came the ‘national game’ and we got really excited, each of us getting our books/flyers/whatever ready. Until a woman who was sitting near us, and who obviously realised we were bingo virgins, held up her paid-for purple book and told us we couldn’t play this one. So we sat that one out and watched. Someone won but it seemed that the jackpot was only £3.50, according to the massive LED display – unless we were reading it wrong. But £3.50 for a national game jackpot seems a bit low, even for a Thursday night.
The helpful woman put her losing book away calmly and turned to us, nodding. Now we can play! She even lent us some fat ‘Mecca Markers’ – these large felt tip pens are essential as using a biro proved to be a dreadful time waster. How some people can play more than one book at a time is beyond me, but there is a pattern to the way the numbers are arranged, so with practice you must get the hang of it. Each ticket has eight columns; each column is reserved for units, tens, twenties etc up to 69; on each page, all 69 numbers will appear once. So when a number is called you have to quickly scan down the correct column and dab the number before the next one is called – which is almost immediately. I have to admit, the adrenaline starts rushing and it’s not hard to see how the game can become addictive.
Each game is split into three parts. The first part ends when someone gets a horizontal line; the second when someone gets two lines, and the whole game is over when someone gets a full house. At one point we thought we had a winner when Amelia timidly asked if she should ‘call’ when she heard someone else do it, as she had a line too. So she called – but we had to retract it apologetically when we realised she only had one line, and this was for two… So many rules.
The clientele was mixed that night. We were sat a fair distance from the dais near the ‘food court’ (which was closed) but around us was a mix of old people, young women, couples, people on their own or in groups, and a few families (or at least mothers and daughters). Most, if not all, appeared to be working class.
The atmosphere was quite tense, which I found intimidating. If our neighbour hadn’t taken pity on us and explained the rules (in the short gaps between games) I don’t think we would have played at all, and there was no way we could stop a member of staff and ask as they were constantly running back and forth checking claims.
Within a few minutes it was all over – we’d played our last page and the caller declared the first half of that night’s session over. People started to leave but a few remained for another national game (the caller asked those leaving to be quiet out of respect for those staying and it reminded me of the last lesson of the school day when everyone leaves except the poor souls in detention).
So we got up and left as well, repairing to the pub on the other side of the road to recover.
All in all, an entertaining and educational evening – far more so than simply reading about bingo in an attempt to understand it. Amelia seemed most touched by the experience, mentioning how everyone there seemed to be mesmerised as they stamped their sheets with their pens in response to the caller’s voice, like a preacher proclaiming over the tannoy. It seemed to underline the Frankfurt School’s criticisms of mass culture as a pacifier – something we are given to do by those in control in order to keep us happy and undemanding. And certainly if you look at Rank’s web site (www.rank.com) it is a large company telling its shareholders how well it’s doing – that’s its primary concern, though trading as Mecca it tells its vastly different customers that it is there as some sort of service for entertainment and leisure. I don’t know – it’s easy to be cynical, and to adopt a lofty educated opinion, bemoaning the fact that people are content to gamble away what little money they have in return for the short-lived rush of adrenaline. For the young women in the advertising campaign, bingo is sold as a way of catching up on the gossip and of meeting fit young men; but in the sheer frantic nature of the half hour or so we were there, I couldn’t see much opportunity for anything other than willing my numbers to come up.
Just found an article on the Guardian website about the tradition of dirty weekends in Brighton. And what do you know? Apparently battered cod is a known aphrodisiac as I said in my last post. So it was the fish, not me, after all. Bugger.
Read the full article (extract below) - it's quite a good take on the British view of romance. I've just seen another one in today's print version of the Guardian, an American's view of the British aversion to dating: "By dating I don't mean occasionally bumping into each other and snogging each other until you finally decide you're going out" - yep, that sounds like the British way of doing things to me! Get pissed, get off, get it on. If I can find a link to an online version I'll post it.
What happened to dirty weekends in Brighton?: "There's something uniquely English about the concept of the dirty weekend. The French and Italians don't even have a word for it, but then they've never felt the need to decamp to the seaside for a bit of extracurricular. My American friends quite sweetly think it is something to do with sports. I wonder whether the Empire wasn't sustained through the British ability to impose mannered order on the fearsome unknown - as with India, so with Brighton, which we had to invent because we're terrified of sex.
In his book Breakfast in Brighton, Nigel Richardson posits our very own Sodom-on-Sea as 'the antithesis of England', but Brighton couldn't exist anywhere else. In its heyday, Brighton may have been the genius loci of sexual, sartorial and culinary excess, but there remains something peculiarly British about its ritualisation of the forbidden. A whiff of sea air and battered cod and we are free to cast off our inhibitions along with our raincoats and frolic on the shores of delight, or so the theory goes."
Bloody Valentine's Day again. Whose idea was that, then?
I wonder if there's scope to sue Hallmark for emotional distress? I missed the postman this morning but I passed him in town on my way in to work and he didn't seem to have my sack of mail. That's the thirty-fourth year running he's stolen my pile of valentine cards.
The woman on the radio this morning was saying that today is, after Christmas, the peak time for suicides, which cheered me up no end, particularly when she said people who were in love should remember those who are on their own and look them straight in the eyes to see if they were 'really okay'. Bloody do-gooders. I think I'm going to press my face up against a few restaurants tonight and make faces at all the couples.
Actually that's what I do most nights, which is probably why I don't get cards...
A couple of years ago, shortly after moving to Brighton, my friend came over on Valentines Day so I took her for a romantic meal out - but everywhere was booked up, so we ended up in the local fish and chip restaurant (and enjoyed it immensely if I recall. Battered cod as an aphrodisiac - who'd have thought it?). But it seems that if you want to go out for a valentine meal you need to book several weeks in advance. Yet according to this same woman on the radio, the two weeks before and after valentines day are the time when most relationships break up. So logically, there should be a fair proportion of cancellations in restaurants tonight so if you happened to pull someone in the past couple of weeks (or even on the way home tonight) you might be in with a chance. Dead man's shoes, and all that...
Ho hum.
The report below is quite interesting, though it'll be interesting to see who funded the 'research' (note to self: must save academic career by looking at calendar and picking a research topic that will be lapped up by the papers come the day). A piece of research from Wales that said the last Monday in January was mathematically the most depressing day of the year (and came with a formula to prove it) and was covered in just about every media outlet over here was, it turned out, funded by Rupert Murdoch's Sky Travel TV channel! Mmm...
Still, it's worth a try, this online dating lark, so as an experiment - purely for science, you understand, I've decided to give it a go. I shall report back as soon as anything happens.
BBC NEWS | Education | Online dating 'good for romance': "Dating websites can give people a 'surprisingly high' chance of long-term romance, suggests a study published on St Valentine's Day.
Some 94% of UK online agency customers questioned saw their 'e-partner' again after the first face-to-face meeting.
Bath University psychologist, Jeff Gavin, surveyed 229 adults, finding web dating worked 'for many people'.
But he told BBC News that 4% of those customers who took part in the study 'were already married'. (Read more)"
A big part of my book, Visual Communications (now due in November, not June - I got a bit mixed up), focuses on the use of consumption to communicate our sense of identity which is, in a seemingly contradictory way, a desire for independence and belonging. One of the things I try to get across is the way in which our natural instincts for bricolage, typified in the hand-me-down culture of clothing and furniture that was still prevalent in the 1970s-80s when I was growing up, has been replaced by a top-down conception of what we should look like, and what our homes should look like.
Where once you could walk into a neighbour's house and it would be completely different from your own, and anybody else's, today we seem to be encouraged by makeover TV programmes and trendy chains to adopt a showroom feel. Style and identity are as interlinked as ever before but it seems to me that the identity is now one of being stylish, rather than the style refelcting the identity - if you get my meaning.
I write this sitting on my Ikea sofa surrounded by my Ikea furniture, the cat is lying on my (her!) Ikea rug, in a rented flat with trendy (but impractical) bare floorboards. I'm as much a victim as anybody else.
I'm not ashamed (slightly embarassed, but not ashamed) to say that one of my favourite TV programmes is Colin and Justin's How Not To Decorate in which two Scottish men (who are gay - which is not a comment on my part but part of the whole set-up of the programme) go into someone's house and criticise their decorating skills. The homes they pick truly are awful - I can't even begin to describe some of the things you can see on the show. They then go away and design a new look, and have about a week to do it while the owners are living in a caravan in the garden. It's funny because of the voyeristic nature of the show, the bad taste of the 'victims', and the way in which these two interior designers have absolutely no idea of project management or reality, as they leave the project for a couple of days then come back and annoy everyone because things aren't on schedule or they couldn't source the correct type of sofa.
But it's also quite sad because, although the end results generally look rather good, and have the couples in tears of joy, they are devoid of their personality. This is someone else's view of style, and someone else's identity.
Where this programme scores over others is that it always ends with Colin and Justin watching a video sent to them by their 'victims' a few weeks later to see how they're settling into their new home. Almost without fail, something that they removed has been put back - a horrible seashell coffee table, a cat litter tray in the new conservatory/dining area, fake brick wallpaper, stone cladding on the front of the house. The point is made quite clearly that style is a matter of taste, and that one person's taste is going to be different from someone else's.
The idea that we should all aspire to aesthetic perfection is what sociologists call an 'illusio', a 'truth' that is created to support the interests of the people who preach it. In reality, the 'truth' has no bearing whatsoever on anyone else. So it is in an interior designer's interests to spread the word about 'good taste' because by pointing out others' failures they create a demand for their 'expertise'. The same is true of graphic design - we create aesthetic illusios about the need for perfect kerning, leading, 'creative' layout and mould-breaking, innovative design when, at the end of the day, people only want to know where the fire exit is, how much baked beans are today, where the jumble sale is, who is selling ice cream and so on. Nobody stops to look at our work and marvels at the beautiful typography - only other designers do that, people who share the illusio.
Now that sounds like a criticism of designers, and a call to stop worrying about producing 'good' design - far from it. But it seems to me that we tend to focus, in the industry and in education, on perpetuating the illusios of our profession rather than the effectual realities. The problem we face is that, the more we attempt to wrap what we do in smoke and mirrors, to perpetuate the idea that design is some sort of magic, the more removed we become from the people we serve. This results in people believing we are 'unreal' and choosing to do design for themselves, or giving jobs to people who offer speed and low cost rather than expensive over-the-top design and a 'I'm a designer attitude'.
In part, I think design's move towards an art aesthetic and discourse is a response to the 'democratisation' of design, the fact that anyone with a computer thinks they can do it, and the plethora of magazines and books that reveal how it's done (hence the rejection by some 'elite' designers of practical theory). But I also think the growth in the DIY design press and industry is a reaction to the move towards autonomy that designers appear to be seeking. (I say 'appear' because it's a small minority, but an influential one - the 'big names', the industry bodies and education). The idea that designers produce boxes for frozen food, or signs for supermarkets, or TV guides, is anathema to some who want to be seen not as artisans, but as artists; consequently they encourage the image of design as art, as a natural-born creative gift, a sort of religion or magic.
No wonder, the moment we've done our 'thing' people start to mess around with it, like the woman putting her seashell coffee table back the moment Colin and Justin have left the building...
Anyway, I seem to have gone off on one again, and now I'm running late. All this was supposed to be a lead in to this funny, but disturbing, story about the UK's latest Ikea store which opened last night. I just heard an interview on BBC Radio 4 which reported that the motorway near the store was like a car park, with abandoned vehicles - a lot of people just left their cars and ran to the store, while others left them and just went home.
Bizarre.
Man stabbed in Ikea opening chaos: "One man was stabbed near Ikea's newest store and several people were hurt in the crush as thousands flocked to its midnight opening.
Nine ambulances went to the Edmonton store, north London, after reports that up to 20 people were suffering from heat exhaustion and minor injuries.
Bargain-hunters even abandoned their cars on the A406 north circular causing 'severe traffic' problems, police said.
Safety fears forced the store to shut 30 minutes after it opened.
A police spokeswoman said the stabbing victim, who was in his 20s, was attacked near the store at about 0130 GMT on Thursday.
He is in a stable condition.
An Ikea spokeswoman said its flagship store, the biggest in England, had to close because of an 'unforeseen volume of customers'.
Advertising announcing cut price offers over 24 hours attracted about 4,000 people to the store, according to the London Ambulance Service.
Six people, including the man who was stabbed and one patient said to have been suffering chest pains, were taken to the North Middlesex and Whipps Cross hospitals.
Ikea said it had worked closely with the emergency services in planning for the opening but said the store would remain closed until further notice.
Founded in Sweden in 1943, the company has proved a hit with British homeowners since opening its first UK store in 1987."
Fines for 'droopy drawers' backed: "US politicians fed up with catching an eyeful of underwear want to fine those who won't hitch up their trousers.
The Virginia state house has voted to outlaw the trend of wearing trousers so low that underwear hangs over the top.
Delegates said the habit, popular across the US and in other Western countries, was 'coarsening' society.
But others hit back, urging legislators to remember their own 'fashion follies' and saying the law would be used mostly against black people.
The house adopted the 'droopy drawers' bill by a margin of 60-34.
"Underwear is called underwear for a reason"
Virginia Delegate John Reid
If the state senate also approves, youngsters in Virginia showing too much of their boxer shorts or G-strings could be fined $50 (£26)."
Visual Communication: From Theory to Practice
(Winner of 'Best Higher Education Title' at the British Book Awards 2006)
by Jonathan Baldwin and Lucienne Roberts
Buy from Amazon.com
Buy from Amazon.co.uk
More Than A Name: An introduction to branding
by Melissa Davis and Jonathan Baldwin
Buy from Amazon.com
Buy from Amazon.co.uk
