We all need a bit of Panda occasionally. Flickr’s on it.

The Sony Reader was recently released in the UK, and there’s consequently been lots of talk about eBooks and eReading, most of it really frustrating. This is because the media insist on building enormous straw men at which to fire grumpy people.

For whatever reason, it’s been decided that the appropriate frame for this discussion is ‘eBooks vs. Books’. eBooks are the future and will replace Books, you see. Is this a good thing? Do we want this? Why not ask the nearest curmudgeon for their informed opinion. The One Show had some muppet saying how great Books are and how much eBooks pale in comparison, then a little questioning by Adrian Chiles revealed she’d failed to connect the Sony Reader to her computer. This is representative of everything I’ve seen, and it’s all a jangly bag of moof.

Of course Books don’t need batteries. Of course the second-hand Book market is important. I’ll even acknowledge somewhat bonkers arguments about eBooks lacking ’soul’. But it all misses the point: nobody wants to replace Books with eBooks. That’s just silly. I really don’t see why people get so hostile - the two can happily live in harmony.

Look, if it’s not a totally redundant thing to say: I love Books. And not just for what’s in them, I love them as objects too. I’ll pay more for nicely printed books: I could wait for the paperback of The Graveyard Book, but I really want the hardcover because it’s a quality item. I suspect most people are the same. But I don’t feel terribly threatened by eBooks, because I can see exactly how they’d be useful.

For example, there are two books I’d particularly like to get in eBook form. The first is my current read: Neal Stephenson’s Cryptonomicon. It’s bloody enormous, and just too big to easily carry anywhere. My university bag is packed tight, and while I can generally squeeze in a standard paperback, this one takes up badly-needed space. And if I do squeeze it in, it’s still a pain. I always grab a sandwich for the train home, but I can’t eat with one hand and hold Cryptonomicon with the other - it’s too heavy. Both of these problems would be solved with an eBook version.

The other advantage to a digital version of this particular tome is searchability. Neal Stephenson says something interesting every other sentence, but the chances of finding half-remembered wonderments in Cryptonomicon are pretty small. 

Obviously there’d be disadvantages. It’s yet another gadget to increase my already-quite-high muggability; it could run out of power; etc.. But none of these are deal-breakers¹.

The second book is one I think I’ve mentioned before. My favourite poet is Byron, and ages ago I threw a ‘Complete Works’ into a slightly-below-free-delivery-threshold Amazon basket. The poetry is lovely, but the book sucks.

The paper is very low quality, so the letters aren’t sharp. This is made worse by the godawful font, and it’s printed very small (it’s an A5 book, and the picture shows about half the page). They’ve also - understandably - halved the necessary paper by printing in two columns. So it’s just crowded. But the columns are too small for half the lines, so lots are just one word (I’m prepared to be told this is some weird poetry format, but I don’t think so), which makes a mess. It’s not difficult to read, but it’s far from appealing. And I’ve rarely bothered, to be honest.

All these failures are understandable in a Book. Byron just wrote too damn much. But it’s perfect for the eBook format. An eBook doesn’t care how much data there is. An eBook can use my choice of font. An eBook can enlarge the text so I don’t get eyestrain after ten minutes. An eBook doesn’t need to cram as much text as possible into the page, so I can read it in one column, without truncated lines. Byron himself would prefer an eBook version (well, he’d use it as a distraction while he chats up your girlfriend, anyway).

I can think of plenty more uses. I’m not fond of reading large amounts on a computer screen, for example, and I tend to print off long articles. This is pretty wasteful at times, and I’d far rather use an eBook reader. I also have to haul a load of art theory books on the train from uni every week, and I’d prefer shove them onto a usb stick then read them on a Kindle on the sofa. I’d also like an electronic version of the Guardian for the breakfast table, so I can read only the first 6 pages without feeling guilty about the astonishing waste of paper.

Of course I don’t want to replace all my books. But I’d like electronic copies of them all, please.

1. The other problem with Cryptonomicon is that I started reading it just as uni began and I now have large amounts of dubious art theory to wade through. The Sony Reader can’t help with this, sadly. [↩]

Just a heads up that Buy A Friend A Book Week started today:

you can’t buy your friend a book because it’s their birthday or they just graduated or got engaged or had a baby or anything else. You have to give them a book for no good reason. In fact, this present out of the blue from you should shock the pants off of whomever you decide to give it to. And it’ll make them happy.

I like.

My little blog is five years old today. Ahhhh. Please excuse a brief metabloggy interlude.

This site started when a friend of mine began blogging and I thought ‘that’s a good idea. I’ll steal it’. So I did, with a dubious design involving unicorns - really, I have no explanation for this - based around Movable Type 2.something. The name ‘wongaBlog’ came a few days later, based entirely on a short story I’d written in which the main character had a site called ‘wonkaBlog’, I think because he liked chocolate.

Since then it’s become a big part of my life, and I passed 3000 posts last month. It’s also, in no particular order::

• briefly bathed in a pagerank of 5
• been banned in libraries for swearing
• pissed off two girlfriends - I think both eventually stopped reading entirely
• been made fun of by the Guardian
• regularly attacked by Russian spammers, which is quite the problem for my webhost but as close as I’m going to get to being in Spooks
• served as a terribly cowardly way to ask someone out (not linking to this one, but it’s in there somewhere)
• become the go-to-blog for Googlers of ‘wank-a-thon‘.

There’s lots more, but those are the ones that popped into my head while typing.

I love blogging. It gives me a chance to write, which is pretty much my favourite thing, and it’s also cathartic as hell. It helps me stay in touch with far-flung friends, as well as acting as a reasonably decent diary. And the very best aspect of blogging is a cliché, although none the less true for it: it’s the people you meet. I found myself in Bloggers4Labour a few years ago (not quite sure how, but I’m glad I did!), and I’ve met - both electronically and physically - lots of lovely people as a result. The same with various atheist / skeptical sites. It’s great, and makes me happy.

I don’t remember starting with a blogging goal, and I’ve never really developed one. Norm’s Friday profilees are always asked for one piece of advice to a novice blogger, and a common reply is ‘know what you want to write, and who for’. I’ve never done that - this blog has always been for whatever I feel like at the time, with no plan or target audience - but I can see the attraction. For me the hardest part of blogging is discovering you’ve been read by people you respect, but don’t know personally. For a while it’s nigh on impossible not to second-guess yourself and think ‘oh god, what must they think of that‘ every time you click ‘post’. I can happily research and write a long piece on the problems of organised religion, say, then follow it up with a post on why I’m scared of women, or a snapshot of a particularly fascinating twig, or something. I’ve never come close to stopping, but it’s the thought of boring the hell out of interesting people that’s given me most pause.

I know this is silly. One of the best features of blogging is that it’s passive - if people don’t want to read, they don’t have to. It’s why the occasional hate-spewing trolls are so funny. But related, and trickier, is that many, if not most, people I know are by now aware of this site, and often mention it to me. Which is great, but does sometimes complicate things. I’ve a few posts permanently assigned to Drafts (over 100 at last count) because I never quite had the nerve to post, knowing they’d resonate with particular people. Sometimes it’s polite to spare people’s feelings when there’s no reason to post - I was at a really dull party this evening - but more often it’s over ideological disagreements. And it’s silly to worry about discussing those.

So my aim for the future is to worry less about what people will think. I shall write whatever I fancy, and if people stick around, great, if not, that’s fine too. And as long as I’m not rude and feel I can reasonably back up the more contentious stuff, that’ll do too - if I’m wrong, as I often am, people can tell me why.

Ok, enough wankery. I figure a five-year anniversary is an ok excuse, but I promise not to do this again for a long while. Incidentally, I was going to title this post after the appropriate anniversary material, so I hit Wikipedia for the list and discovered that four years is a ’silk’ anniversary - how nice is that - while five years is ‘wood’. Wood. That’s crap. Plus I have no intention of ever typing ‘anniversary of wood’.

Finally, just to say thank you to anyone who comments, links to me from their own site, or just drops by and reads anything I write. It’s really very nice of you.

It’s back to uni this Friday, and I’m looking forward to it. We go straight into a studio photography module that focuses on flash lighting, which should be great. I’m a big fan of available light photography, where available light is defined as any goddamn light that’s available¹ - I’ve been interested in flashes since long before uni, and have been playing about with² the strobist methodology for over a year, so that’ll hopefully help. We start with digital SLRs, then move onto medium format film. I’ve never used anything larger than 35mm, and it’ll be interesting to see the quality differences. 

My tutor’s introductory email said:

the first session will involve shooting film stills - so please consider the genre you might aim to emulate and dress, and bring props, accordingly

My first thought was obviously ’superheroes’. I’m sure I can talk everyone else into it.

As regular readers may have gathered, I’ve been a bit introspective and whiny lately, so I’m looking forward to having proper things to think about. It’ll also be good to get some new project shots going. I love my little niece, but she’s completely taken over my Flickr stream this summer, and baby shots are only so interesting if you’re not a relative

This term is also the first time anything counts toward my degree - everything last year was just practice. But this week saw the first person drop out of the course, which is a shame. There were 20 of us, but we once spoke to a 3rd year student whose class had dwindled to 6. Eek. Hopefully this doesn’t mean it’s about to get much tougher.

1. this comment ripped straight from Joe McNally’s The Moment It Clicks [↩]
2. I was recently told that ‘playing’ is not an appropriately professional word, to which I say: pretentious businesswank bullshit. Nobody ever learnt anything without playing around. I’m sorry that ‘business’ despises anything indicating people are anything more than ultra-efficient money-making automatons, but this is how things are, and I can’t be arsed figuring out nonsense concepts of pseudoreality for the sake of don’t-make-me-think ‘professionalism’. The advisers were trying to be helpful, which was nice, and I don’t have anything against them, but I’m not currently not in a position that I need to play such stupid games, so I won’t. Ah, I feel better now. [↩]

Terry Pratchett’s latest sounds good:

Nation is the story of two children: Ermintrude may just be the Queen of England now that a plague has struck down most of the royal family. Mau is the last survivor of the Nation, a tribal people living on a south-seas island that has been destroyed by a tsunami. They are both lost and adrift in the wake of terrible tragedy, flung together on the island of Nation. They both are blessed with doubt about the theologies of their ancestors — and denied its succour. Together, they discover science, and use it to weld together their people and save them from despair and evil external forces.

I’ve never got into the Discworld novels, but his Johnny Maxwell series is still a favourite. He’s also firmly on the side of rationality, and it sounds like the above may have something to say in that regard. I’ll keep an eye out.

Back home, and I had a really good time. The others were great at making sure I didn’t feel isolated, and I almost always had someone to dance with. People are so nice

I have to confess I went to Blackpool in the end. It was…the same. But I was invited, which was kind, and I did get to ride a carousel, which I try to do whenever possible. I also walked past the Doctor Who museum, outside of which hangs this:

Go figure.

Off shortly. To sustain you through the weekend, have a lolcat:

Or two:

I am properly weird this week. Two extremes:

Yesterday I went into H&M and failed to find the Menswear department. Everything else had a sign, but Menswear? Nope. It was probably upstairs, but there was a big Womenswear sign pointing in that direction, and the assistants seemed to be watching, and I felt conspicuous and silly, so left. 

Then this evening I went to my sixth and final week of Ceroc dancing. It works on a six-week loop, so I knew that by the end of today I’d have learnt all the beginners’ steps. I’ve been determined to complete the six weeks, but by today my enthusiasm was waning. I can’t continue the classes beyond this week, plus it’s not like I know anyone else who can dance ceroc anyway. Learning had been fun, but it couldn’t go anywhere. I still wanted to complete my goal, but I figured I’d leave after the initial lessons. I hadn’t been practicing enough to hold my own during the freestyle practice sessions, and was fed up of sitting at the edge feeling like a tit.

Except I stayed the entire evening - which I’ve never done before - and danced with half the women in the room. Including really good people - I even asked Teacher Lady. I have no idea how this happened. Well, it was at least partly to do with a very nice lady called Karen telling me off and dragging me onto the dancefloor. But I hung about after that, inexplicably full of confidence, and had a great time. This is as far from H&M Andrew as you can get.

I’m worried about social awkwardness this weekend, and now I have no idea what to expect. I feel like S4 West Wing staffers, wondering which President Bartlet is going to turn up at the debate. 

Ho hum. Like I said: properly weird.

Quick Chrome tip:

Control-V will paste from your clipboard and preserve formatting. If you use Control-Shift-V, only the text will be pasted.

That’ll save me time. I regularly have to use Notepad as a proxy.

I have a TV station in my head that runs new episodes of Firefly, Sports Night, Quantum Leap and The West Wing. I’m now going to have to add Studio 60 to the lineup. Sigh. That show had a lot left to give. I want more of Jack Rudolph. He was cool.

Still, onwards. Up next: 30 Rock.

I’m going to St. Annes this weekend. It’s with my dancing group, and I’ve been twice before, but this time it’ll be without any of my regular partners. I wasn’t planning on going, but a couple of other people in the group talked me into it at the last minute¹. Which was actually really flattering, and I was quite touched.

But while it’s lovely that they asked me, I’m still going to stand out like a priapic Beefeater. I’m, um, a fair bit below the average age, and the only person not in a couple. I’m also hardly the life of the party at the best of times, what with my tendency to go quiet when nervous, and I don’t want to be the dude who hangs about making everyone feel slightly awkward. This could all be in my head, but I’m worried nonetheless.

There’ll be dances on the Friday and Saturday evenings, and I reckon they’ll be ok. At least, if the Friday is terribly awkward I’ll bow out of Saturday and go take photos of the seafront or something. But during the day on Saturday / Sunday I’ll feel bad about latching onto someone, so I figure I’ll disappear off somewhere else. I might try and talk someone into riding The Big One. And then maybe go to Blackpool Pleasure Beach.

Actually, no. I just wanted to write that. Blackpool is, um, not my favourite place in the world. In fact, twenty minutes on the promenade and I’ll happily lobotomise myself with a spade. If there is a hell, Blackpool has a franchise. Lots of people find its apparent isolation from the last fifty years quaint and charming, and I’m glad, but one visit was almost enough to turn me Catholic² and that’ll do, thank you³.

So I don’t really want to go there. So, erm, to anybody I haven’t offended: any recommendations for interesting things in west Lancashire? I haven’t had a proper look around as yet. I could head up to Kendal or thereabouts, but that seems a bit OTT. Plus I’ve been there before. Hmmm.

After five minutes of googling:

Oh, no. There’s a Doctor Who Museum. In Blackpool. Oh god.

1. everyone else booked six months ago, I booked three weeks ago [↩]
2. I’m not sure if they believe in Limbo this week, but it’s as good an explanation as any [↩]
3. I was going to say ‘life is too short’, but ironically another Blackpool visit would rid me of that particular trope [↩]

I quite enjoyed that. The adverts suggested it could go either way, but I thought it was nicely made, and certainly full of potential.  

I used to have a decent collection of child-friendly Arthurian legends - second only to my Robin Hood shelf, I think - and I could recite them backwards. Merlin wasn’t usually in them, but the show has obviously built upon the basic Arthurian structure. I like the modernisation so far, with all the characters starting out young and away from their usual roles: Guinevere as a servant was particularly surprising. The setup certainly gives a few hints as to future plot developments, but I don’t think the characters are so culturally ingrained as Robin Hood, so the twists should be new to lots of people. I thought it was well-structured, too. Magic’s always a tricky plot element as it’s a bit all-problem-solving, but they balanced it well in this first episode - it’ll be interesting to see how they handle it in future.

Yeah, I’d have loved this when I was a kid.

You may think the news has been somewhat depressing of late. I would agree. You may think this will not change, and little can be done to restore optimism. I would disagree. For in Little Rock, Arkansas, USA, something wonderful has occurred. 

Possibly you’ve heard of Fred Phelps. He can be described, without fear of recrimination, as a scumbag. He’s the guy who pickets funerals because homosexuality is a sin against God. Last Wednesday he was protesting the National Conference of Editorial Writers - nobody really knows why - with his usual hateful spiel. This happens so often that it’s barely newsworthy, but it’s still upsetting to anybody involved. But wait.

Last Friday, you say? Wasn’t there something else going on last Friday? Some kind of worldwide celebration of…Hey, wouldn’t it be great if…

Fred Phelps and his gang of nutters were driven away by a gang of pirates. I am not joking.

Arkansas Pastafarian Pirates staged a counter-protest across the road, dressed in full nautical gear and holding signs indicating Leviticus’ objections to shrimp and cotton-polyester blends, and the Phelps gang gave up.

This is the best thing I have heard in ages. The relevant Pastafarians deserve touchings from His Noodly Appendage asap.

A year ago today I was woken by a phone call to say my sister had gone into labour. I was in Nottingham at the time, and a fair distance from the hospital, but I wasn’t worried - after all, labour takes a long time. So I got up, had a shower and some breakfast, and headed down the…hell, I don’t know, I just followed the satnav to Warwick Hospital.

An hour and a half later I pulled into the car park and tried to find the maternity ward. It was a bizarre experience. I kept wandering around deserted hospital corridors, following signs that kept leading to locked doors, then deciding I must have made a mistake and looping the whole thing. I somehow did this for twenty-five minutes, before finally heading over to the main building and asking at main reception. They sent me right back, but said I should use the intercoms, if and when I found any. I was moving fairly quickly, but wasn’t too anxious - there was still plenty of time.

I finally talked a nurse into buzzing me into the maternity ward, and took a seat in the waiting area. I’d figured my Dad and I would be sitting around for quite a while, so I had books, food and general entertainments to last at least the morning.

At which point Dad appeared, said “It’s all kicking off in there. Jane invited you in, but the midwife said no. Back in a bit…” and vanished. Fifteen minutes later, I met my niece.

I am the only person in my family who can happily believe it’s been a year. Happy birthday Aimee.