Gales and heavy rain

Strong weather continues. I took my car to be fixed this morning, and had real difficulties walking back. Since it was pissing down when I left I had taken my umbrella with me, but I didn’t dare to open it as the wind was so strong I had huge difficulties just staying upright. On couple occasions I had to stop so I wouldn’t fall over.

I’m just clad I’m not in Paris by now.

...all that Jazz!

Ah bliss. A girl, sitting on her new computer listening to Kill Bill volume 1 soundtrack knowing that she doesn’t have to go to work this weekend.

Of course I need to introduce you the new beauty – she is called Jazz (oh yeah, that’s yet another wrestling reference – named after a RAW superstar who is also small, black and kicks ass like no one else). She’s a shining black Shuttle XPC with 2.8 GHz Pentium 4 processor, combo CD-burner/DVD drive, 1 GB of memory and a 160 MB of hard drive.

After my networking issues were solved yesterday I’ve managed to get her up and running tonight, most importantly Firebird, Thunderbird and Nero installed, probably the three applications I use most.

Windows networking is easy

Getting two Windows XP computers to communicate is as easy as just plug them into the same hub, makes sure they are in the same workgroup and off you go. Er, no, it didn't seem to last night. I have of course all my data and software set up on my old computer, and I wanted to get the moved across to the new one. And spent next three hours trying to figure out why they couldn't communicate.

• They could both access the internet (so hardware was ok)
• They had unique names and were in the same workgroup
• Router had unique IP addresses assigned to them

Still, they couldn't connect, or even ping each other. I spent good two hours googling trying to find anyone with similar problems, but apparently XP networking is ridiculously simple. And then it hit me while watching some lucha libre (Dragon insisted that if I don't think about it for a while, the answer will come to me, and he was right) - surely the personal firewalls I have installed on my computers know the difference between the local network and the internet?

Turns out they do. As long as you tell them it's allowed. That was one of those moments when I would have felt very stupid if I hadn't been so glad I figured it out in the end.

Pure Dynamite

There are very few books that I consider to be badly written and still end up enjoying, but the Pure Dynamite is one of those rare novels. This book tells the life story of Thomas Billington, better known as the Dynamite Kid, a professional wrestler of extraordinary talent. Though badly phrased, full of foul language and only semi-coherent, somehow the book is charming in its honesty and facinating in the detail of what goes on behind the closed doors in the Sports Entertainment business.

I've read a lot of autobiographies of martial artists and so-called hard men, but they mainly disgust me, as they just tend to be full of egoistic self-praise of the author's toughness, intelligent and great character. Tom Billington on the other hand does not save himself at all or lie about his bad sides -which are well-documented anyway. Years ago, when I was but a little kid, I had seen him perform under his moniker Dynamite Kid. Even then I could sense that this British youngster was somehow different from the other entertainers around him -he seemed to be driven by something to do things in the ring that no-one else could. What I did not understand then is now clear to me -he wanted to be the best there is in what he does. He wanted to be remembered for his ability in the ring.

What you have to understand is that the professional wrestling is the land of the giants. If you are less than 6' 6" and weight less than 300 pounds, you will find it very, very hard to make a living. Imagine what it was like to Tom Billington, stick-thin English lad some 5' 7" tall and 140 pounds to try to break in -practically impossible. His answer was to work harder and become better at his profession than anybody before him (be it acrobatic high-flying or scientific mat-wrestling), and getting big artificially. By taking truckloads of steroids, Billington packed 225 pounds of muscle into a frame that was never meant to carry even 180. To give you an idea of the amounts he was taking, he went as high as 1,200 mg of testosterone a day when bulking up, and this at the same time he was taking cocaine to stay awake for his late night matches while taking valium to sleep on the planes on the way to matches. Remember that there is no off-season in professional circut, so he could never give his body a chance to recuperate.

A son of a miner and a boxing champion, Tom lived a harsh childhood in England and trained in the notorious Snake Pit (Riley's Gym) in Wigan, a legitimate submission-wrestling school of unparallelled reputation. Here the Dynamite Kid was schooled in all manner of martial arts as well as the tricks of the professional wrestling circuit where the outcome of the matches is pre-determined.

From performing in the dusty little bingo halls of England to the bizarre Japanese wrestling (puroresu) where the foreign wrestlers have to attack their audience for real in order to be thrown to jail, the book charts Dynamite Kid's career highs and lows. With his sense of humor verging on sadistic (Billington thought nothing of setting a sleeping man on fire), Dynamite made lots of enemies. Personal locker room vendettas left him with four smashed front teeth when rivals ambushed him with knuckle-dusters.

There are plenty times of happiness as well which Billington remembers with great fondness: Outselling Pope in the Silverdome, making 20,000 $ in a single match, travelling the world from Hawaii to Middle-East and Japan, comradeship with his fellow performers and his evident joy of performing to the crowd whatever 100 or 93, 000 strong -that never mattered to the Dynamite: as he says, the all paid the same money, and they would get their money's worth.

With his legitimate fighting background, and steroid fuelled rage he finally carved himself a place amongst the legends, becoming 3-time world champion and the other half of the one of the best known wrestling tag teams, the British Bulldogs.

In the end though his lifestyle and steroid abuse cost him dear, and his tag-team partner, his cousing Davey-Boy Smith, betrayed him, leaving him penniless and crippled with his back broken beoynd repair.

But what can you say about a man, who after losing a fortune, his wife and children, his home and worst of all, ended up in a wheelchair, still can claim: Wrestling was my life, and I loved it. No regrets. I had a blast.

So here is to you Thomas Billington. You entertained me mightily when I was young.

The book is difficult to get in your average bookstore, but you can order it through amazon, for example.

Good news and bad news

Bad news is that my broken car mirror is going to cost me £70.

Good news is that my new computer is finally here. It's now sitting on the kitchen table warming up waiting for me to finish working.

Freak weather

Since I finally had time last night, I was going to go to an asthanga class. The weather looked clear, so I packed my mat and headed out. It was raining outside and I though; it must be raining here while snowing elsewhere. This was fine - it didn’t seem to turn into ice so I hopped into my car. About two minutes into my journey, rain turned into sleet, and 20 seconds later into snow. At that point there started to be too many anxious English drivers on the road, so I turned back. From experience I know that little 15-minute journeys can here turn into 3 hour nightmare when there is even the slightest bit of snow on the ground.

When I got out of my car, the thunder and lightning started. I had to just stand there for a while, because I’ve never seen weather like that before. It was snowing very hard, now and again there was lightning and then immediately thunder, and the ships where blowing their fog horns on the sea.

This morning it was all peaceful, and there is even some snow left. Very pretty, but I’m not going to get on the roads. On mornings like these I’m really grateful that I have the possibility of teleworking.

(Thanks for Thor for helping me with the photo - I seem to find it very difficult to crop my photos. Click the image to see a bigger version of it.)

Royal Rumble

We sat down to watch Royal Rumble with great expectations, as the card looked strong and plotlines promising. The road to WrestleMania starts here.

First match was the World tag team championship in a tables match, Dudley Boyz vs. Ric Flair and Batista. This looked like a promising match with some decent action, and almost before it started it was over. I would have assumed that Dudleys would have had the advantage here it being a tables match and all, but it was not to be – Evolution brought this one home (surprisingly) cleanly.

Next was the Cruiserweight Championship match beteen Rey Mysterio and Jamie Noble (with Nidia) – and this one was even shorter with only three minutes of action. Match was as solid as it could be in that time, and Noble keeps impressing me each time. Story-wise I have to say I’m starting to suspect that Nidia isn’t as blind as she appears, and will make Jamie taste his own medicine very soon now.

Eddie Guerrero vs. Chavo Guerrero was next, and this was maybe the biggest disappointment in this event. We were really looking forward to this one, two luchadores, lots of emotion, what could go wrong? Well, apparently a lot. Match was very slow, most of the time seemed to go to either into submissions or the guys just staring at each other. None of the fast lucha libre we were expecting, and the post match beat up was just unnecessary. Unfortunately I have a feeling that this feud is far from over... but I just want it to end so we can have our charming funny Eddie back.

Then it was WWE Championship match - Brock Lesnar vs. Hardcore Holly – was perhaps the match I least looking forward to. Not because the guys are not good wrestlers – Brock is starting to become very good, and Holly is, although not the most interesting, very solid performer. But I wasn’t looking forward to it because I knew how it was going to end. None of the hype they had put into Holly made anyone believe that he would succeed where the likes of Undertaker, Chris Benoit and Kurt Angle had failed. For a championship match, the length of the match, only six minutes was pretty pathetic. While I understand they had to leave time for the last man standing match and the rumble itself, I’d rather with they’d cut one match off instead of making all the others just a few minutes long. These guys could have delivered a better match.

I knew the Last Man Standing match was going to be good. The hype was there, and these guys have had some of the best matches in RAW. It was Triple H vs. Shawn Michaels, and it was bloody and heroic. Not the best match they’ve had (the match they had in RAW this month was better), but it was pretty good. I had put my money on HBK and was hoping he would deliver, but he was really being hammered down from the beginning. Several times he came back, and I knew that before we would hear some sweet chin music, it wouldn’t be over. Then it came, Trips was just running towards him, and the boot sang, and both men went down... When the count hit seven and HBK still wasn’t moving, I started getting nervous. He shifted a bit, and... it was over. Both men were counted out, and Trips got to keep his belt. Crowd wasn’t pleased at all about this, there were even some “bullshit” chants coming from the audience. They send for stretchers, but Shawn refused to be carried out. I can only guess what’s coming – while Trips left with the belt, HBK can claim that he walked out... I expect a final match in WrestleMania XX.

Then we got down to business, it was time for the Royal Rumble match. My money was reluctantly, but firmly on Goldberg – but at this point they had said so many times that Benoit was always going to be second and that he was never going to win, that I started hoping there might be something to it. There were some notable performances – Tajiri did well, he stayed in the ring for three minutes and outlasted the big man Bradshaw. Spike Dudley got points for a good rib – I think it was the biggest pop of the night when people thought (old) Undertaker was going to come and take care of Kane. Randy Orton earned my gratitude for getting rid of the most useless wrestler on Smackdown roster, Ernest “The Cat” Miller. Nunzio got points for being as funny as ever, sitting outside the ring most his time. Big Show got lot of respect for a solid and convincing performance – after I’ve seen Gigante Silva of CMLL I’ve started appreciating Big Show in a whole new way. John Cena got a huge pop when he came out, and of course so did Bill “Mr. 30” Goldberg.

Last few men made a huge effort, especially amusing was the all the faces doing their finishers on Show, and all in vain since he ended up eliminating Cena, RVD, Jericho and Angle. And so it was down to two men – Chris Benoit and Big Show. At this point I couldn’t contain my excitement, and although Show did put up a good fight right till the end it was very clear to me that he didn’t have a chance in hell.

And so it was, in the end, the Rabid Wolverine himself, standing in the middle of the ring, ecstatic and looking manically happy. He’s going to be in the main event of WrestleMania XX and at this point it doesn’t really matter if he’s going to win or loose, it’s a an honour. I’m really happy that the company understands his value and skills, and has given him the brightest spotlight of them all – being the second person ever to win Royal Rumble starting as number one, and now heading to the main event of the biggest and the most important of WWE’s events in years.

All in all, it was a very good event – the first matches were not bad, just too hurried, and the last man standing and the rumble itself were very good. This is a good start to Road to WrestleMania, and if the following events hold up to this, it’s going to be a great wrestling year.

For complete results, check out Christopher Zimmerman's result sheet.

"It's never happened to us before"

No computer today. Guess what, the deliver company claims that the driver forgot to take the package when he left the depot. Apparently it’s never happened to them before.

I should be angry. But I’m just disappointed.

Baking and yoga

I went to hear the results of the MRI scan of my wrist yesterday. It was really weird, seeing my wrist there, all sliced up – it looked like a series of... well, rusinapulla or korvapuusti (there isn’t a word in English for those – they are sort of doughnuts baked in the oven, the first one has raisins in it, the second is made with cinnamon, rolled up and sliced, coated with large grain sugar... Google finds images of korvapuusti).

Baking aside, apparently the ganglia in my wrist is benign, as in: it’s not cancer or likely to cause arthritis in the future. Doctor didn’t recommend surgery - it seems that the operations are very unsuccessful: only 20-30% actually recover fully, and even then there is a high chance the ganglia would grow back. In addition, the scarring is apparently very ugly.

So for now although it does cause some pain, I’m going to live with it. It does affect my yoga a bit – all movements that require weight to be put on wrists, I have to avoid. Oh well – beauty of yoga and ashtanga is that most asanas (postures) can be done in many levels, so often I can just do the basic ones. This means very careful up-dogs, but definitely no advanced purvottanasanas or any bhujapidasanas.

Tea and violence

We watched the last Sunday’s Royal Rumble yesterday. Since not all my friends who follow wrestling have yet seen it, I’ll keep my full thoughts of the event till later. For now I can just say that I was very happy with the event – it’s always a good sign if the matches make you shout out aloud.

On a completely unrelated note, I noticed yesterday while shopping at Waitrose that they have brought out a new line of seasonal teas. As a huge fan of Darjeeling, I immediately went for the Tumsong Darjeeling tea picked in July 2003, priced at whopping £4.99 per tin. I’m now drinking it, trying to wake up, and I have to say it was completely worth it. The taste is clear and smooth, with a wonderful Darjeeling aroma.

Now I’m off to take my car into the garage to get the mirror fixed.

Cold weather

I remember, as a kid watching American programs where when it had snowed heavily the kids didn't have to go to school. And how bitter I was that no matter how cold it was, no matter how much snow there was, no matter how dark it was, I still had to be at school at 8 o'clock.

When the English talk about cold, as a Finn I can't but help smiling a bit. The temperature rarely goes below zero here, and when it does the consequences are catastrophic. The weather forecasts have been promising cold weather for days now, and its finally here. Immediately followed by accidents, since people don't understand the cause and effect of cold weather and how you should react to it on the roads. If it continues for longer, people will start dying because they don't realise that they should be heating their houses more. Last January people were stuck on motorways and had to sleep in their cars overnight when it suddenly started snowing and traffic grinded to a halt.

Apparently tomorrow is going to be even worse - snow is expected around the country, although we on the south coast will probably avoid it (which is good - I don't think our palm trees would appreciate it... and yes, that photo was taken in the park outside our house last January). Anyway, I'll be working from home tomorrow since my new computer is finally going to be delivered - and I'm painfully aware that my little car isn't equipped for icy roads as it's got what in Finland would be called "summer tyres". Of course in this country they are the only tyres, used all year around.

Tiger claws

Many of my friends who lift weights, fence, practice martial arts or do rock-climbing (or just have to work with a mouse a lot) often complain that they feel their forearms give up long before their other muscles do. If you ever feel the same, please let me introduce you to my little friend called Tiger Claws.

To perform the the Tiger Claws, stand up and hold your both arms in front of you, with your fingers clenched into a fist, with your palms facing downwards. Then quickly extend your fingers of both of your hands as if you were flicking something, so that all fingers are point straight out. Imagine that there are rubber bands around your fingers when extending them. Now clench your fist again. Congratulations! You've just performed a Tiger Claw. Now do at least 100 repetitions in rapid succession, but aim for 300. Take five-minute break, and repeat the excercise. Perform it twice a week. Yes, your forearms will feel like they are on fire -it is a painful excercise. But after a few weeks the feeling will lessen, and your forearms will become much, much stronger.

Thanks to my sifu Peter Gibson who taught me this excercise.

Are you 'ard enough?

Watched the Britain's Hardest Man competiotion courtesy of those delightful chaps of Sky One.

Quite an interesting event, as physical strength alone would not see anyone through. For example, contestant's mental hardness was measured by having to hold your head in a casket being filled with ice cold water for as long as you are able, and breaking down a roof of a car so it can be pushed below a low a metal bar actually needed as much wits as brute force. Now I know that in order to break down the roof of a car most efficiently, you need to open the doors first, break the windows and only then start hammering the roof in. I wait with keen interest whether this facinating event will gain widespread popularity amongs the brits now that it is on TV.

There were all sorts of competitors in this first heat, but a young business manager won despite some tough competition fromw wide selection of hard men ranging from judo champions to tough-as-nails SAS paratroopers. He will advance to the finals.

Once whittled down to two competitors, the final was a good old-fashioned brawl where you aim was to throw your opponent off from a raised podium. Knees, elbows, eye-gouging and head-strikes were illegal, but otherwise you could do whatever you wanted.

Despite being faced by a certified killer with significant muscle mass advantage and superior grappling technique, the fresh-faced salesman managed to throw his ex-French foreign legion opponent off from the fight podium. Twice. Damn those salesmen.

Dragon/kolibri readers who are natives of Britain can enroll in the show by downloading the entry form here.

Annoying damage

Oh bollocks. Some joker had bent my left side mirror in my car sometime over the weekend. We live fairly close to some nightclubs, so it's not uncommon to wake up in the middle of the night on a Friday or a Saturday to the monkey-like screaming of the drunken teens outside. One of their pastimes is to bend car mirrors into funny positions - I usually try to avoid parking on that side of road just because of this, but on Saturday after coming from our shopping trip there wasn't room anywhere else. I should have known better to look harder.

Usually it's not a big problem beyond annoyance, you just need to bend the mirror back - granted, this can sometimes be hard work and Dragon needs to do that for me. So this morning when I noticed the mirror I prepared myself to use both hands - but this was worse than usual. It moved quite easily - in fact, too easily... this time it had really broken, something had snapped inside. Now it hangs off my car like a dead fish, and is just as much use for observing traffic.

Now I need to book my car in my garage to get that fixed, and I really don't have time for this right now. Damaging other people's property and the entertainment value of it, I'll never understand.

Tired

I spoke with Chu on the phone till far too late last night. My eylids feel like led now and I just want to get back to bed. I really need my 8 hours of sleep each night, 6 just doen't cut it. It's going to be a long day...

Project Summerslam

One of my projects for this year is to go and see Summerslam with some friends, and I’ve decided to document this project for my own pleasure in this blog. If look at the links section on the right hand side, you notice there now a new category link there where all musings on this subject will go.

Then to the news: although WWE denied last year that they had made any decision about the Summerslam location for 2004, Toronto has so far been the only name mentioned. And Canada popped up again this week – this time Carl DeMarco, the president of WWE Canada has said that although there are three locations considered, he expected Canada to win. That would be awesome – and there are also rumours that say that because WrestleMania this year is hosted in such a small venue, Summerslam will be the big one... so I’m thinking Toronto Sky Dome and 70 000 people.

Can’t wait.

New plumage

Feeling better now. Have a look.

Later: Big pile of books, some DVDs and a CD later, it's time to get back to work...

Small pause

Getting ready to go to my hairdresser, for the first time in four months. For some of you this might not sound like a big deal, but to me it is – if I have time, money and energy I’d like to go every month. Lately, with my new job, it’s been the problem with the two of the latter – especially for the past couple of months when I’ve been working like a dog, 10 hours a day and minimum of two hours travelling on top.

My neck and shoulders feel like stone – partly because I sit in front of a computer all day, partly because I haven’t had time for my (previously) three times a week yoga and ashtanga classes. This weekend will be the same – I’m going to dedicate some time to self-care and go to my hairdresser to be pampered for an hour or so, then maybe steal couple of hours of shopping (it was payday yesterday) and then it’s back to work.

How Dragon has done this for the past two years, I’ll never understand.

Of Mars

So Spirit Rover has stopped transmitting anything useful. I could go into a rant about testing and quality control about the fact that the scientist say that it's even possible that the Rover has malfunctioned because of a (possibly) corrupted or incomplete control message that was sent to it on Wednesday. Instead I'll tell you my theory on what happened.

I think Spirit Rover has met up with Beagle 2 and they are probably doing some sight seeing at the moment. Although it's not publicised, Spirit Rover's last message was a photo of the Rover and Beagle posing in front of a mountain with the text "Wish you were here - NOT". Watch out for Opportunity (Rover's sister that's going to land on Sunday), it'll just end up with the other two.

Mind you, Mars is of course close to my heart, as the most observant of you have probably noticed from my domain name. It has indeed been named after the princess of Mars, Dejah Thoris. For those who this doesn't ring any bells, you can find A Princess of Mars, the first book of the Barsoom series here, and other books of the series here, courtesy of the Project Gutenberg.

Yes, I know, it's pure pulp. That gooey sweet goodness.

Later: Seems that Rover is a good boy and lets its parents know that it's ok, or at least alive.

Those who entertain me, I salute you

I enjoy reading.

In fact I enjoy reading to such an extent that my bookshelves are constantly groaning under the stress of having to hold my ever-growing selection of tomes. As we speak I am building a complex tower of books on top of my shelves simply because there is no other place to put them. Eventually I always end up investing in new bookshelves, and in the long haul in a bigger house so I can fit in all my books into it. Then the cycle begins again...

It takes a special man or a woman to feed my craving for more and more books, for I want a lot from my authors. They have to be good at what they do. They have to write on a subject matter I find at least remotely interesting. And above all, they have to be prolific, for I cannot wait long for my next fix for too long. Below are the names of the authors whose books I always buy without bothering to really check up on the book, knowing full well that their name guarentees me to get my money's worth.

No, they are not the finest writers who have ever lived in my opinion (that list would probably start with somebody like Mika Waltari), but they have brought joy into my life, and done so in abundance. New Dune or Sinuhe only comes around so often. Someone has to get me my dosage of literature meanwhile.

David Gemmell. What can I say? I love his books. Do they tell same or very simlar story each time? Yes. Do they give simpistic moral solutions to complex questions on good an evil? Yes. Is the author clearly a commited christian? Yes. But none of this matters. The pace of action is breathtaking, the heroes are larger than life in their strength as well as in their failings. Gemmell, the ex-bouncer, knows what he is writing about when it comes to the battle sequences. He has wit and humour. And he has never, ever failed me. Each one of his books has always entertained me to the fullest. His Drenai saga is my favourite, though all his work are of very consistent quality. Perhaps the finest living writer of heroic fantasy today. 'Nuff said.

Steven Pressfield. Gates of Fire introduced me to this tremendous author. It is amazing someone managed to write such a fresh book about the battle of Thermopylae. Gates of Fire is being filmed in the Hollywood at the moment, and I cannot wait to see Pressfield's vison of king Leonidas taking on the might of the Persian Empire at the Hot Gates. His second book, Tides of War, recounting the life of Alcibiades during the Peloponnesian war, was even better in my opinion. Still a bit rough around the edges, I can hardly wait how good he will become as the years pass.

Bernard Cornwell. His Sharpe books are mainly very, very light, but his Warlord trilogy which tells a blood-soaked tale of Arthur from the perpective of spearman Derfel is superb. His Vagabond trilogy is perhaps his best work to date, and his love for the period when the English longbow ruled the battlefields of Europe is evident in the joy that these books are written. His historical novels are aways well-researched, and he has a rare gift for humour most of the authors of historical novels sorely lack.

China Mievelle. Has true vision and courage to try to bring something new to the tired field of fantasy novels. Perdido Street Station was tremendous (if a bit flabby), and the Scar is almost as good. His only failing is that he doesn't write anywhere near fast enough for my liking. Still, I cannot wait for his next book.

Arturo Perez-Reverte. My thanks to Quitu for introducing this author to me. His books, are quite simply amazing, and he is capable of holding your interest with the simplest of stories. The Fencing master and the Dumas Club are both masterful works. He seems to be able to write about anything at all, from historical novel to detective story to supernatural tale, all with same seeming ease and with deceptive depth. It is no wonder that he single-handedly got his Spanish countrymen to read books. No mean feat in a country where half the population normally don't read a single book in their lifetime. Out of this list, he has perhaps most pure writing talent.

Ian M Banks. I love the Culture books. Banks has an imagination larger than the universe. He has taken the technolgy so far beyond our capabilities that one can only marvel at his inventiveness. The fact that the humans actually play a second fiddle to their computer Minds makes the books delicious to read. Granted, he likes to repeat himself, but who cares? Besides, what games designer worth his salt could resist a book called Player of games?

Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides

Although my mother keeps telling me now and again that I should read "real books", I very rarely do. I seem to be very limited with my choice of genres, and I generally only read sci-fi and crime novels, with rare occasion of some fantasy. "Normal" fiction, biographies or anything to do with real life rarely holds my interest. But I got this book Virgin Suicides as a Christmas present from my sister, and it looked relatively interesting, so I decided to give it a go. Besides, it would be rude not to, and it has less than 300 pages.

Virgin Suicides is a story about a family of seven where all five teenage daughters commit suicide. And that's not really a spoiler, since the events are explained in the beginning, and the book goes trough the year between first and the last of the suicides. It's written from a point of view of one of the girls' admirers and tries to understand the reasons behind the terrible events.

The book was a compelling read. Although you know what is going to happen, you want to understand the girls and you want to know the gruesome details. Finnish translation was very good, so I can only assume that the original English would be beautifully written too. In the end though I think I was a bit disappointed - everything happened, as you knew it would, and there is no explanation. We don't have enough information to make our own conclusions either, except the obvious - they lived such a restricted life that they couldn't see any other way out. But if that is true, what is the meaning of the story?

Because I always approach stories - whether it be an episode of a TV series, movie or a book - by asking "what's it about?" . A good story has a message in it, something it wants to convey to the audience. With this book, I'm not quite sure what it is. Or maybe I'm just trying to find a deeper meaning from the story because I got attached to the girls and I wanted their deaths to have a meaning. And in the end I feel empty because (for me) there was no justification, no one learned anything and no one became a better person because of it.

Sofia Coppola made a film about this book recently, and although I haven't heard good things about it from anyone that has seen it, I feel an urge to see it now. If for nothing else but I'd be very interested to see what her interpretation of the story is.

I heard it on the radio

I'm a technical person, you know. I can program with several programming languages and I can work my VCR. I can install more memory or a new hard drive into my computer. So why is the operation of my car radio so difficult?

My car radio came with my car, it only has few buttons and it looks relatively harmless. I figured out the news-functionality, where you can set it so that it will interrupt a CD and switch to radio so you can listen to the news. But I found a new functionality on Monday, when I accidentally pressed some button (or buttons). Now it will also interrupt radio to bring me the traffic news from other channels.

At first I was exited. Since I spend most of my mornings in a traffic jam, this seemed to be a great idea - I could listen to my favourite radio program that doesn't contain traffic news, and when traffic news were on in another channel, the radio switches over. Great. There is a catch though. My favourite station is BBC Radio 4, and this channel seems to link to the local BBC radio broadcasts for traffic. This still sounds like a good idea, the idea being that your local radio station has your local traffic.

However, it seems that the traffic news are picked from total of four stations on my route, of which only one - BBC Radio Solent - gives me traffic for my route. There seems to be no pattern on what station is picked up when, might be something to do with what direction the wind is blowing. Even if I'm just outside Portsmouth, I sometimes get BBC Radio Berkshire. Mid-way to work I sometimes get BBC Radio Wiltshire. When approaching Newbury I sometimes get BBC Radio Oxford. And I'd like to emphasise that all of the stations have quite strict areas on where they report, and there is absolutely now overlap. So far I haven't figured out if there is a way for me to lock the local radio broadcast in some way. Not surprising really, if you consider the fact that few days ago I didn't even know that my radio had this functionality.

And switching my radio station is out of the question. If you have ever listened to BBC's local radio stations, you'd know why. While still living in Nottingham, I used to listen to BBC Radio Nottingham quite a lot for the comedy value. You had the same presenters and same people calling in all the time, everyone knew each other and it was all jolly good fun. Whereas Radio Solent seems to be one of those very fashionable youthful stations with a million competitions and phone-ins and presenters shouting and trying to be funny. Exactly what I don't need on early mornings when it's still dark.

Since I've recently also found out how to set stations on my radio (yes, I read the manual and no, they didn't tell me how to do this there - so I did what all people do, I asked my dad), I could try to switch channels manually. Yes, I think I'll try to find a way to turn this traffic alert off.

Of proper titles

Here is how according to the law of Persia the Great King was to be properly addressed when writing a letter to him (translation courtesy of Pressfield):

His Majesty, Xerxes son of Darius, Great King of Persia and Media, King of Kings, King of the Lands; Master of Libya, Egypt, Arabia, Ethiopia, Babylonia, Chaldea, Phoenicia, Elam, Syria, Assyria and the Nations of Palestine; Ruler of Ionia, Lydia, Phyrgia, Armenia, Cilicia, Cappodocia, Thrace, Macedonia and the trans-Caucasus, Cyprus, Rhodes, Samos, Chios, Lesbos and the islands of the Aegean; Sovereign Lord of Parthia, Bactria, Caspia, Sousiana, Paphlagonia and India; Lord of all men from the rising to the setting sun, His Most Holy, Reverend and Exalted, Invincible, Incorruptible, Blessed of God Ahura Mazda and the Omnipotent among Mortals.

Pure class.

Out with the old

According to the Chinese calendar today is the last day of the year of the Ram (or goat, or sheep, depending on the translation). According to the Chinese traditions, you should clean up your entire house today and then put away all cleaning equipment - and if you do any cleaning tomorrow you will sweep all your luck away. All the dirt should be placed in the middle of the living room and can't be moved until New Year's Day has passed - then it can be brushed away to the corners of the room until the fifth day when it can be taken out. And of course all this time it's very important not to trample on the dirt. On the fifth day the rubbish should be carried out of the door, not swept, and be taken out trough the back door.

The same superstition goes for a lot of other cleaning stuff, like you're not supposed to wash your hair or dishes in case you wash away your luck. Also you shouldn't use knifes or scissors in case they cut your luck. Furthermore you should pay attention to what the first person you meet tomorrow says, as their first words will be significant to your fortunes in the following year - but this does not apply to greetings in the bedroom, as they are considered to be unlucky.

In case you survive tomorrow - which shouldn't really be that difficult, to avoid all that means that you should in fact do very little! - tomorrow starts the year of the Monkey (or year 4701 by the Chinese calendar).

This reminds me of a more serious point I'd like to make. I'm hoping year of the Monkey will be a good one for all the monkeys and apes in the world, but unfortunately it doesn't look too good, as loss of habitat, pet trade and hunting continue to diminish already small existing populations. My adopted goddaughter Hebe is turning five this year - she lives with one of the most wonderful organisations that continue to fight for this cause, the Monkey World in Dorset. Animal charities have always been close to my heart - my two main charities are RSPCA and Monkey World, both are dedicated to rescuing animals from the perils of humans.

Monkey World is a great place - for money raising and educational reasons it looks like a zoo, but it's not like any other zoo I've been to. It's the only zoo I've ever seen that is built for the animals, not for the spectators. All the monkeys and apes have large enclosures so they are free to go where they want, and are not forced to be on display. You don't get close the fences - this makes it more difficult to see, but will give the animals more peace. Most of the animals have been rescued from human abuse - there are lots of ex-pets and lab monkeys. Many are kept on birth control so that more places are available to take in more rescued animals - but they also operate breeding programs for the rarer species. My goddaughter was born in Monkey World - however she was "an accident", as her mother secretly removed her birth control implant and then became pregnant.

In the future though, I of course would hope that there wouldn't be need for places like the Monkey World. But unfortunately I think it's more likely that we need more of them.

Of kilos and pounds

RANDOM THOUGHT: Hmmm... I wonder why I write my excercise stuff up in my blog? Unlikely it interest that many of the readers. But it is great for clearing my own thoughts. A noble pursuit, then. :)

When asked, I've tried to help all my friends and colleagues around me when it comes to excercise. I've done specific programs for martial artists, and rock climbers, dancers, and fencers. Mostly though it has been one of my friends with an office job who want to get into a better shape. Aside from actual excercise programs, there are two questions that I get asked more than any others when it comes to training. These are: 'How do I lose weight?' and 'How do I gain lean muscle?'

The problem is most people want these things to happen at once. This is next to impossible. To grow lean muscle mass, you MUST eat more calories per day than you expend. 500 extra is about right. You can calculate your daily expenditure of calories here. Pretty much all food nowadays comes with clear caloric breakdowns, so calculating your daily intake might be revealing. You must provide your body with plenty of protein to build the muscles, 2-3 grams per kilo of bodyweight (1 gram per pound for you English heathens) is about right. Best way to get this is to eat chicken, turkey, beans, tuna, salmon, lean red meat, or soy. If you are a strict vegetarian, you pretty much must buy some protein powder to supplement your meals.

This is actually the hard part for many aspiring trainers. Of course, to gain muscle mass, you must engage in resistance excercise such as weightlifting. But lifting weights is relatively easy, can be fun, and takes up so little time per week that it doesn't really stop you from doing anything else. Eating enough, at least for me, is hardest part.

To lose weight, you MUST consume less calories than you are currently expend during your daily activities. For me, the easiest way has always been to add some excercise, and eat the same as always. Your mileage may vary. You might want to watch your food all the time instead, but I find this very stressful for long periods of time.

The bad news is, there is only one way to gain unwanted extra weight: to eat more than you consume. Easiest thing to avoid this is to eat enough at meals so you are feeling satisfied. I now it sounds contradictory, but nothing makes you binge like being really hungry. Trick is to fill your tummy with food that does not get stored as fat. Fruits and vegetables are my choice. I love sweet stuff, so fruits take care of my cravings most of the time. As for drink, try water, and lots of it (sweetened with some juice if it is too bland otherwise). 8 glasses a day is what is recommended.

Though fats are universally reviled, it is actually simple carbohydrates (such as potato chips, candy, white bread and fizzy drinks) that are far more likely to bloat you and break the scales. Curiously, human beings actually don't need carbs for anything, but we do need some essential fats to survive, and protein to replenish our muscles.

Whether you want to lose or gain weight, it is better to eat several times a day, small meals scattered throughout the day, rather than eat 3 massive meals per day. This will keep your metabolism going, and stop your body from cannibalising your muscle mass to keep you going.

On testing

From work IRC:

[14:53] <hawk> kolibri u looked at the new feature yet
[14:53] <hawk> would like to get it checked in
[14:53] <kolibri> I could do that next
[14:53] <kolibri> Anything I need to know hawk?
[14:53] <hawk> nope
[14:54] <hawk> should work in all cases
[14:54] <kolibri> Ooh
[14:54] <kolibri> *All* cases?
[14:54] <hawk> within reason :P
[14:54] <kolibri> You know hawk, I'll take remarks like that as a challenge ;)
[14:54] * art will keep his mouth shut

You know, I'm quite proud of my work. (All names have been changed to protect the guilty.)

Grace

Watched the latest Stargate SG-1 episode Grace yesterday (minor spoilers follow, so avert your eyes if you don't want to know). It was one of those episodes that probably all sci-fi series do at least once: enemy attacks Prometheus and they escape to a nebula, Sam has an accident, looses consciousness and when she wakes up everyone on board has vanished.

So first though comes into your head - "oh, this is one of those alien experiment things where they have her in a lab and observe if human race is worthy enough". Then a little girl appears, so you think "oh, this is one of those episodes where an alien life form tries to communicate with her". Then different members of SG-1 start to appear and you think "oh, this is one of those inner-journey episodes where she finds out what she really wants in life".

The funny thing was, the episode pre-empted itself pretty well when Daniel and Teal'c start suggesting to Sam these different sci-fi clichés, the conspiracy theories about what might really be going on. In the end it probably ends up being a bit of everything, although the ending kind of suggests that we haven't seen the last of Grace.

And mark my words, Carter and O'Neill will finally end up together this season.

Geekness of it

I spent a lot of money today. Believe it or not, for the first time in my life I bought a computer entirely with my own money.

Of my first computer, a 60 MHz 486 with 400 MB hard drive and a whopping 16 MB of memory, my dad paid half and I paid the other half. I put my hard earned money from my summer job to it and later on I installed a CD-ROM drive to it (since of course it didn't come with one). The year was 1995 I think, and the computer was called Holly after Red Dwarf's computer.

Holly kicked the bucket when I was doing my final year project at the Uni: I got a BSD in middle of compiling a file. Rebooted, and she never came back. Holly was laid to rest and since I was just a poor student, parents were called in to help with finances. The new beauty was a 600 MHz Pentium III with a 10 GB hard drive and respectable 128 MB of memory. This was in 2000 and she was called Aeryn, after Farscape's lovely Aeryn Sun.

Aeryn has served us faithfully, and was upgraded with more memory, a bigger hard drive and a CD-ROM burner about two years ago. But now it's time for her to retire too. I think she'll be staying around for a while still, but a new sexy beast has been ordered and paid for. I'm hoping she will be delivered early next week.

(And for those geeks in the audience who think I should have built my own computer, I can only say that my beard isn't quite long enough for that. I'm quite happy and lazy enough to select the components and then give £50 to someone to build it for me.)

Later: And Sami, I swear I wrote this before I saw your entry!

Can it be...

When my alarm went off this morning at 6:30 it was still dark. But when I stepped outside around 7:20, it wasn't pitch black anymore - it wasn't quite dawn either, but at least it didn't look like midnight. And by the time I was sitting in a traffic jam on M27 at 8:00, the motorway lights went off because it was actually daylight.

Only one conclusion to make. Spring is coming.

Great men of ages past

I thought I'd bore our readers with some history. :)

I recently got an email asking me to name the greatest general, scientist and philosopher of the classic greek period. I pondered long and hard, as the classic age was filled with great men (alas we know far too little of their women), so my picks were quite difficult.

As a scientist, Archimedes is by far held in the highest esteem by the Dragon. The father of mathematics (with Pythagoras), he was literally more than thousand years ahead of his time. And this did not only cover theories -he applied his genius to technology and invented incredibly advanced war machines that were the terror of the Roman fleet besieging his home city of Syracuse.

Though war in itself is abhorrent to me, I have always been facinated by the concept of military strategy, (hardly surprising as I am chiefly known for designing strategy games), and I've read through hundreds of books on the subject.

Many would name Alexander the Great here (and quite justifiably, as he did indeed conquer the entire known world), or perhaps Leonidas who stood with his 300 Spartans against the myriads of Great King Xerxes of Persia.

But the Theban Epaminondas stands head and shoulders above everyone else as far as I am concerned. He was the first man in all history to finally defeat the nigh-invincible Spartans on open field, with an army that did not outnumber them. His tactics, the formation of the Sacred Band (elite fighting formation made up from lovers who finally broke the Spartan Phalanx), his brilliant victory at Leuctra, all shaped history more than is widely known. Perhaps Hollywood will one day pick up his story so his mighty shadow in the Hall of Heroes will get the recognition it deserves.

The greatest philosopher was perhaps the hardest to pick, with such an array of great minds. Finally though I had to settle with Socrates. I always value those who begin something new, and practice what they preach. Though Plato did take his concepts much further than his mentor, and Aristotle was perhaps more brilliant, I cannot help but admire the old, ugly philosopher who relentlessly pursued the truth.

"An unexamined life is not worth living."

You were so right, Socrates.

Homage to bloggage

While I haven’t planned to take part in inter-blog discussions as such, I have to admit this entry was triggered by two entries in two separate blogs. First of all, Marnie said something really nice about our blog, perhaps the nicest thing anyone has ever said in the short existence of this blog. I mean, she actually said our blog was interesting, and that’s really the most I can hope for – so thanks for that hun!

But this got me started thinking about other people’s blogs that I read, and how much I enjoy them, and realised I’ve probably never said anything nice about them. Then I though about what Janne wrote couple of days ago about the nature of Finns and the difficulties they have communicating. In his case they even had difficulties complaining - and while I think that is usually easier for them – praise in not, it’s just not done.

So, I’ve decided to say a few words about the blogs I do read, and hope that my words warm their writers’ hearts as much as Marnie’s words did mine.

The Butt Ugly Weblog – if I have a blogger idol, it’s probably Janne. He’s incredibly funny in a geekish (my!) sort of way, and gets excited about similar things than I do – like moblogging from a barber’s chair. (Not that I’ve done it, but only because my hairdresser doesn’t have a broadband connection. And I don’t have a laptop. Oh well.)

Elokuvia ja Valokuvia (in Finnish) – Henri is a dear friend and this blog is one way of getting inside his head and keeping it touch despite the distance. Henri is funny and enthusiastic writer and his blog is one of the first ones I check in the morning.

Fabula (in Finnish) – I really admire Jaakko and Hakkis, and I sometimes wish I had their convictions. While I do have my opinions about politics and ethics – as you might already have noticed – I don’t put mine as nearly as eloquently as they do.

Fun Pastimes For Stupid Children - Mikki is another dear friend I don’t keep in contact as much as I’d like, but while reading his blog I always feel like sitting next to him. He writes in a style that’s very true to him, and he rants like no one else on this earth.

i was just really very hungry – I love Maki’s food blog. I’m an avid cook myself and I love her mouth-watering recipes and her wonderful sense of aesthetics. I made her Mélange of mushrooms soup yesterday and it was wonderful.

Janka's log – Janka is another blogger whose writing skills I’d to be able to match someday. I love her “Rants and Observations” category: she’s very sharp and intelligent and expresses herself so clearly and concisely.

Tiramisu (in Finnish) – these girls have a wonderful dry sense of humour and interesting topics that make their blog a good read.

Pinseri (in Finnish) – this is the centre of Finnish blogging community. Sami writes about blogging and finds most interesting links on the web while Riitta often concentrates on sharp social critique.

Provokaatio (in Finnish) – this is a blog written by two loving young women, and while I don’t know them personally, I feel like I do - such is the warmth that their writing generates.

Ojasta noustaan (in Finnish) – Merten is another one of my favourite writers. He writes about his life, has a black sense of humour and still owes me a cup of coffee for me being the 50000nd visitor on his site. One of these days, Merten, one of these days.

Where's my Damn Ice Cream? – Marnie’s blog is light, funny and full of life. It always improves my mood to read it.

!Absolute Truth (in Finnish) – Kuhla does not tell the absolute truth, and whether s/he’s Neil Hardwick or the Moomin Troll doesn’t really matter. She’s pretty entertaining anyway.

/var/log/orava – Orava’s blog is wonderfully geeky, and whether it’s about coding, sci-fi or books, I value his opinion.

So there. I and sincerely hope you enjoy reading our blog even half as much I enjoys yours.

Shanghai Knights

We watched Shanghai Knights tonight. I’m a big fan of Jackie Chan, and the film was in a very light and entertaining way pretty funny. Dragon laughs at me when I say this – but while none of the periodic inconsistencies the film was (of course) full of didn’t bother me at all, inconsistencies in food did.

I understand that the purpose of the scene where Chon and Roy are offered food at the party is to make fun of English food, I need to complain about the following discrepancies:

• They were offered dessert in the beginning of the meal.
• Spotted dick does not look like what they were offered.
• Haggis is common food and would not be offered at all at a party like that.
• Haggis does not look like a sausage.

There. Had to get that of my chest. Thank you for listening.

Listening to silence

Well, that was certainly different. According to the commentator, 4’33” was the piece that everyone had come to see, and it was the last performance of the two-hour concert.

The orchestra finishes the previous piece. The conductor leaves. I have to make the mandatory joke of “when do you know it’s started?” The conductor comes back, smiles at the audience. They applaud. He then looks at the orchestra. They open their notes.

Conductor stares at the clock. Now I have to repeat my joke. He then raises his baton a bit – it almost looks like he’s praying, his hands to his stomach, baton pointing at the orchestra. Apparently it’s now started. The audience is dead silent – in fact I don’t know if any other group of people can be that silent as a hall full of modern music snobs who have paid to come to listen to silence. The first movement stops – we know this because the conductor lowers his baton.

Audience coughs fiercely. The conductor wipes his forehead and the audience laughs. He and the orchestra turn page. Now the conductor raises his baton again, same position as before. During the second movement two people cough in the audience. The conductor lowers his baton and audience can cough again.

The third movement is different, because the conductor holds the baton in a different way. He’s holding it in his right hand so that its tip is pointing directly to the orchestra, and he’s supporting the right hand with the left. No one coughs this time.

And then it’s over. Most of the audience applauds, but not every one is clapping. Despite what the commentator said, I don’t think every one here appreciates 4’33” – I don't think it was the performance, it can’t really be that it was different from what they expected. I have to say I liked it more than I though I would – I was afraid it might be just a joke, but they performed it seriously, and it was taken seriously.

It was certainly unlike anything else.

David's Blunder

I'm seeing red.

Home Secretary David Blunkett has said publicly that he was tempted to celebrate when he heard that Harold Shipman had died. But he quickly realised that it would be inappropriate to do so because families of Shipman's victims might feel cheated because of his death.

I find difficult to find words to describe my anger in that someone has appointed this poor excuse of a man to such a responsible role as Home Secretary. This man, who is "ready to open a bottle" when he hears that another man has died, and only regrets his feelings because of what other people might think. This is of course not the first time a frog has leaped out when Blunkett opens his mount, but this is got to top all his other blunders.

While I understand that my view might not be popular especially in this case, but I have to say I find it totally disgusting that anyone would celebrate death of any other man. I said last time that I didn't believe in good or evil, but what I do believe are basic human rights, and some kind of sanctity of life that all humans should have, no matter their actions.

I know that many of Shipman's victims' families feel cheated because he was allowed to die and didn't suffer his full punishment. I might think about the subject in a different way if I was in their place. But that's not Blunkett's defence - his defence is "what would others think", and that I find inexcusable.

4:33 from Paddington

I'm looking forward to seeing BBC Symphony Orchestra perform John Cage's piece 4'33" tonight. It's often talked about, but rarely heard 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence, in three parts. Cage's reasoning for composing (or naming) this piece was that he wanted to demonstrate that wherever we are what we hear mostly is noise - but I think I'm mostly interested to see this piece performed, how the conductor, the orchestra and audience will behave.

I was listening to the conductor Lawrence Foster's interview on the radio couple of days ago, and he was talking about rehearsing the piece with the orchestra - apparently he is going to have a clock next to him so he can time different parts. He wasn't quite sure what exactly he was going to do, but he said he was probably going to indicate to the orchestra start and end of every part... how the orchestra is going to behave, we'll see tonight. When the interviewer asked if he had listened to the recorded performance of this piece as preparation, Foster replied "Don't be silly!" - good to see that he has some kind of sense of humour.

It's difficult to react to 4'33" - while I think Cage's point about noise is actually quite valid, I find it difficult to take this piece seriously. Foster seems to be taking it seriously, and the orchestra probably will - but how about the audience? I would be surprised if there was no laughter, and how is the audience going to evaluate the performance and applaud appropriately?

From one absurd performance to another. Apparently Network Rail has found a solution for trains being late - they have decided to change timetables so that the trains will be on time. (While I appreciate the effort to give customers accurate information, isn't it the journey time that should count more?) And the reason given for the trains being late is even more absurd - apparently it's because the new trains are - get this - slower than the old ones. That's progress for you.

Disordered Minds by Minette Walters

Minette Walters is perhaps my favourite crime writer at the moment. She is by far the most consistent of all my other favourites like Patricia Cornwell, Ruth Rendell, P. D. James, and newly-found Ian Rankin, and her books rarely let me down. She writes psychological thrillers usually featuring extremely disturbed people and disgusting events.

In Disordered Minds the emphasis is on childhood trauma and the charming subject of paedophilia. It's a story about a 30-year old murder and the effort of two people to prove that the now-deceased convicted murderer was in fact innocent. In addition to normal narrative, Walters uses letters, emails and police reports to tell the story quite effectively. Her characters are not the most likeable, even the ones whose side you're on - but you warm up to them eventually. She includes a lot of social critique in to the story, as well as trying to understand how childhood events can scar people for life - examples are found on both sides of the fence, in the investigators as well as the investigated. The conclusion why some of the characters turn into crime and some into academia is left to the reader without too much of an explanation.

I'm often very bad at guessing who-dunnit. Guessing the murdered in Walters' books is almost impossible for me. Someone might ask, why then one of my favourite genres is crime fiction - and I have to say I don't often even think about who might be the murderer until I'm almost at the end. In addition, Walters usually leads the reader - ok, at least me - down the garden path and just when they turn back to say "But... there's no one here!" she stabs them in the back. Disordered Minds is much easier in this aspect - I had my doubts and I thought I was being quite clever, but then it turns out that the main characters were right after all, and my guess was actually pretty good too. So I feel a little cheated.

Not to say that it's not a good book. It is - although it's no Shape of Snakes (which, by the way, has the best opening sentence in any book, ever, and sets up the story beautifully) - and I wouldn't hesitate recommending it to anyone.

American heroes

The story is like this: a man coming from US gets caught on Heathrow airport for the possession of some live ammunition in his pocket. He was picked up during a routine security check on his way to board another plane. The question of course is - how did he get on a plane in US in the first place - considering all the fuss they are making about security checks we should be doing in our end and all this sky marshal bollocks.

What really ticked me off was the interview of one US security people in the radio this morning, and I quote from memory - "It's not that important to prevent bad people on board with weapons, what we want to prevent is them hijacking the plane". Now isn't this just the perfect example of American attitude? Not prevention, oh no. Show of strength, heroic actions, that's what it seems to be all about.

The European way of course is very much about prevention. There has been a row here - and in Finland - about pilots not wanting let these pompously named sky marshals on board - they would rather ground the planes if there was a security threat. But not the Americans - they would rather have a flashy fistfight on-board and brave American hero, the serif, saving the day. Then they could make a big fuss about how effective the procedures have been, give the man a medal, and make him the man of the year.

Meanwhile in UK, there haven't been any terrorist attacks. Maybe, just maybe, it's all down to prevention. No, it's not flashy, and it doesn't produce any heroes for the people to cheer. It doesn't give the politicians anything to point at (and I'm just thankful they have the same urge to do this here than their American counterparts). But it does create security.

Shaun of the Dead

Fans of the Spaced, rejoice! The crew are now making a full-length movie, called Shaun of the dead, featuring many from the cast of this tremendous Sit-com, as well as millions of zombies. What more can you ask?

Get the trailer from here. It is well worth it!

Nip/Tuck

"I'm not going to do my son's penis and my wife's breasts!"

We watched the first episode of the new US drama Nip/Tuck last night (their website is very cool, worth checking out). In case you've managed to miss the hype around the series, it's all about two plastic surgeons and their clinic, and first episode sets up the background story.

The main characters are the two doctors - the moralistic family man Sean McNamara (played by Dylan Walsh) and the slick womanising businessman Christian Troy (played by one of my favourite leading men on TV: Julian McMahon). In the first episode they are just setting up their new practice and Christian decides to perform a operation to a drug baron to change his appearance, while Sean is wrestling with a breaking up marriage. It doesn't paint a glamorous picture of plastic surgery, and it was much more graphic (even more so than ER) and critical with the issues than I expected. Which is of course a good thing - I was half expecting something very glamorous in Hollywood style, but it was actually very realistic, at least with the negative sides of plastic surgery.

I'm having difficulties relating to Julian McMahon's character though - I can't help thinking him as Cole: half man, half demon and the Source of All Evil, the character he played in Charmed. In fact, it doesn't help that his character in Nip/Tuck is so close to a demon anyway - I mean, just think about it, a playboy plastic surgeon... Especially in the scene where he's going to do a Botox party, dressed in a black suit, demonic-red shirt and matching demonic-red sunglasses. I'm telling you, he's a demon!

Series has some promise - as long as they keep their critical view going and keep the family-crisis soap opera plot in the background, I think we will be watching.

The New Face of Finland

DISCLAIMER: My apologies for those of our readers who don't know Finnish, but I felt I had to use my mother tongue for this entry. Normal service will resume shortly.

Olen lomillani Suomeen alkanut tarkkailla entistä enemmän synnyinmaatani hieman entistä laajemmalla. Kenties pitkä poissaoloni on aiheuttanut sen että olen kiinostunut yhä enemmän Suomen yhteiskunnassa tapahtuvista muutoksista joita pääsen tarkkailemaan kuuden kuukauden välein. Tässä on päällimmäisiä ajatuksiani viime lomaltani.

Suomen kasvot ovat vanhentuneet. Tarpoessani Mannerheimintietä joulukuun loskassa hätkähdyttävän moni vastaantulija oli selvästi keski-ikäinen tai vanhempi. Mutta vasta vieraillessani Peijaksen sairaalassa tajusin kouriintuntuvasti millaiseksi Suomalainen yhteiskunta on muodostumassa lähitulevaisuudessa.

Sairaala, (joka oli moitteettoman siisti ja täynnä tuliteriä laitteita ja viimeisintä teknologiaa), natisi liitoksistaan. Inhimillinen kivi ja laasti, eli lääkärit ja sairaanhoitajat (potilaista puhumattakaan) olivat ainoa komponentti joka ei ilmiselvästi ollut kovinkaan korkealla prioriteettien listalla. Vuodeosastot pursusivat vanhuksia, harvalukuisten sairaanhoitajien yrittäessä pitää pystyssä Suomen legendaarista hyvinvointivaltiota. Oma isoäitini sai jakaa yhden hengen huoneen kahden muun vanhuksen kanssa.

Yksi ainut hoitaja joutui puskemaan potilaita osastojen ja röntgenin välillä. Hätääntyneiden vanhusten anoessa pääsyä takaisin vuodeosastoilleen suureen ääneen hän ahersi kuumeisesti, naama punottaen ja hikeä valuen, pyydellen anteeksi oikealle ja vasemmalle kun valtava jono potilaita sängyissään kasaantui röntgen-osaston edustalle. Edes Studio Julmahuvin kirjoittajat eivät olisi pystyneet luomaan sitä näkyä, niin tragikoominen se oli.

Juttelin sairaanhoitajien kanssa ja he kertoivat minulle toisaalta ankarasta työvoimapulasta kaikissa julkisen puolen sairaaloissa (yksityiset sairaalat ovat asia erikseen), ja toisaalta siitä kuinka turvattomaksi he tunsivat oman asemansa: Sijaisuuksia, määräaikaisia suhteita, epätoivoista työnhakua… Säästämistä ja leikkaamisesta on tullut sellainen mantra että sen edessä uhrataan mitä vain. Useat innostuivat silminnähden kertoessani omasta urastani ulkomailla.

Kymmenen vuoden kuluttua, suurten ikäluokkien siirryttyä eläkkeelle, ja vanhusten kaivatessa kipeästi satoja tuhansia hoitopaikkoja, Suomi tulee olemaan toisaalta kauhean työvoimapulan kourissa eritoten palvelu- ja hoiva-aloilla, ja toisaalta taas jatkuvan suurtyöttömyyden piinaaama. Lisäksi eläkkeisiin vaadittavat rahat tulevat olemaan valtavat, sillä suuret ikäluokat ovat ehtineet koota melkoiset massit eläkkeikseen vakituisissa työpaikoissaan. Sen ajan Suomalaisten veronmaksajien on kustannettava vanhustenhoito, eläkkeet, ja työttömyys. Lisäksi pitää muistaa että eliniän jatkuvasti pidetessä tilanne tulee vain pahenemaan vuosi vuodelta.

Mutta minun ikäpolveni ei ole hankkimassa lapsia tätä kaikkea maksamaan. Jatkuvat pätkätyöt, pitenevät työpäivät, ja loputon taloudellinen epävarmuus eivät todellakaan kannusta suurperheistä unelmoivia. Ja ne joilla koulutusta ja uskallusta on luultavasti menevät sinne missä parhaat palkat ja matalimmat verot kohtaavat toisensa. Alati kutistuvassa maailmassa emme välttämättä puhu Päijät-Hämeestä.

Kun olen yrittänyt keskustella Suomen Vanhoista Kasvoista ystävieni kanssa, monet tuntevat olonsa kiusaantuneiksi ja katsovat poispäin. He pyytävät minulta että puhuttaisiin jostain muusta. Mutta asian unohtaminen ei tilannetta miksikään muuta.

Muistakin lomaltani parhaiten lehdestä lukemani Suomen tilannetta puineen tutkimuksen nasevan loppukaneetin: ‘Tämäkin hallitus, kuten kolme edellistä, on päättänyt siirtää Suomen todellisten ongelmien ratkaisun seuraajalleen.'

Mies (tai nainen) se, joka sen tilanteen selvittää.

Death of a serial killer

People dying always makes an impact on me, no matter who they are.

I just hear on the radio that (former doctor) Harold Shipman, the worst serial killer ever convicted in UK has died: he was found hanging in his prison cell this morning. He was convicted on 2000 for killing 15 of his elderly patients, but public enquiry into his dealings later on found that he had actually killed over 200 people.

This was a man was a doctor, in a profession that carries a huge responsibility. People used to trust their doctors and believe what they say. In this country, Harold Shipman changed this. His elderly patients died either in his practice or when he was paying them a visit at home, and coroners never examined the bodies because there's a law that says that if a doctor has seen the patient within 14 days of the death, the doctor can write the death certificate.

Maybe he believed that he was doing these people a favour, maybe he thought he was saving them from later misery. Maybe he thought they were no longer of use to the society. Or maybe he just liked the power and killed because he could. Since he never confessed, or has never shown any remorse, we'll never know. His wife Primrose was probably the only person who believed in his innocence, and continued to visit him until he died.

I won't get into the debate of good or evil, because I don't believe that people can be classified that way, I'm not even sure I believe that there is such thing as absolute good or evil. (Is for example killing another human always absolutely wrong?) Ok, I promised not to get into it, so I'll just say this: justice was served when he was convicted. He was not coping well in prison and was on suicide watch, but it wouldn't surprise me if the guards had overlooked it and wanted him dead. (Funnily enough, when I heard about that he had been found hanged, my first though was "I wonder who did it")

Any death makes me sad, but I can't say Harold Shipman will be missed.

Dreaming

I could complain about the motorways in southern England and pour my heart out for the hatred I have for especially two of them: M3 and M27. But that would probably bore you - if not today, very soon in the future because those two miserable bits of road frequently feature in my pet hate list.

Instead, I'll tell you about my dream last night, that featured two of my current interests: lucha libre and blogging. I had a dream that Tarzan Boy had read my entry about him and had left me a comment - and remember being surprised since I wouldn't have thought he would understand English. I was also quite impressed on how quickly Google had picked up my entry.

It was one of those dreams that felt so real when I woke up - I was really exited at first and then gutted when I realised it was just a dream.

But in case you are reading Tarzan Boy, don't be shy and leave a comment.

On the map

I see Sami has put us on the map. Those pages are in Finnish - but limited English version is also available.

Life universe and everything

A nice cup of tea: 20 p

A phone call to Finland: £15

Your best friend on the phone: priceless

Here we go again...

January is a peculiar time in the gyms across the world. Suddenly these peaceful Fortresses of Iron are under an assault by both middle-aged and very young weekend warriors. In their thousands these hopefuls come, bellies bulging, wearing the top-of-the-range exercise clothes, armed with magazines that tell mystic tales of the latest miracle diet that will have you looking like a Hollywood movie star in just seven days. We, the regular crowd, can only watch in amazement as they take over.

This trend is universal, and seems to happen in every country: In Finland, on first day after the New Year, the Finnish gym I was visiting had a queue that stretched at least 50 yards. This phenomenon is caused by New Year resolutions: after stuffing their faces with traditional Christmas foods and realising afterwards that their old pants won’t fit anymore, many men and women make a New Years Resolution to join a gym and sort out their fitness and looks once and for all.

Gym owners, being smart people, take full advantage of this by charging exorbitant joining fees and demanding new members to sign up for at least year at a time. As the gym owners full well know, almost none of these ‘new-lifers’ will last a month. A combination of poor diet, lack of proper exercise programs and realization that they cannot look like Arnold/Madonna in 4 weeks time by training 30 mins once a week will cull almost all of them come February. Between the joining fees and standing orders from this New Year crowd, gyms probably make 50% of their business during January. And no, I am not criticising the gym owners –they have a business to run and this is the best time of the year to make some money.

The exercise programs that the gym instructors dole out to these poor people are next to useless, containing mainly light aerobic exercise and cursory instructions how to use some machines. This, I feel is perhaps the biggest contributing factor to the huge number of drop-outs in the gyms after January has passed. Note that I am not blaming the gym instructors for this: During these times of suing frenzy, the fitness professionals have to tread a thin line between useful exercise programs and getting sued when one of their clients injures him/herself when they stumble over a rowing machine. As a result, it is much easier and safer to recommend 15 mins in the stair machine followed by the spa and sauna, than actually make a working exercise program, let alone talk to the uninitiated about correct nutrition. In addition, hard exercise might drive the newbies away before the pay the joining fee -this would not make the gym bosses happy.

Reading the above, one might think that I have something against these intruders into the quiet privacy of my gym. Quite the opposite is true: It takes courage, heart and determination to even dare to come to the gym –I know many people are sensitive about their looks, and exposing your body to the outsiders can be traumatic. Breaking life-long eating habit is even harder. -I know how tremendously difficult time I had at first.

I actually respect each and every one of them: even if one in thousand manages to lose some weight, this means that in the not-so-distant future there is one less person that will require expensive medical treatment for the various illnesses a poor physical health and overweight will cause. The trend of people getting out of shape/overweight combined with the aging population of the Western World will mean tremendous strain on the society of tomorrow. Anyone who is willing to at least ry to avert this catastrophy is OK in my books.

In fact the only problem caused by this invasion is that while I exercise, I will hear for the umpteenth time what diet/exercise some pretty-boy celebrity is on, and what is the alleged secret of losing 50 lbs of fat in 2 weeks with 15 minutes of exercise per week while still eating two tons of chocolate each day. Each and every one of the exercise stations will be manned by house-wives talking about the latest soap opera, as they sit idly on the rowing machine, leg press, or whatever is their chosen seat. Meanwhile I patiently wait for them to get bored and move, like a leopard stalking its prey. But this is a small price to pay, and I know that come February, the gym will be empty once again, save for us ‘hard-liners’. And once in a blue moon, someone actually speaks to me, and asks a serious question about training (as opposed to ‘How much you can bench press?’). These people usually end up staying, and become one of us gym rats, and they join the rest of us marvelling the influx of new blood come the New Year once again.

More photos

Thor has put up rest of his photos from last autumn's Smackdown Passport to Pain tour. He managed to take some really good photos in spite of sitting on a tier far away from the ring, but admittedly he has a very good camera. My favourite is the photo of Ultimo Dragon in middle of fire-coloured smoke.

On a related note: I can't believe Tarzan Boy lost a hair vs. hair match to Shocker!

In sickeness and in health

I spoke with my mom today on the phone.

Mom had been to see my aunt in the hospital, where she was very suddenly taken to on Christmas Eve. She was diagnosed with CADACIL, a newly discovered genetic hereditary disease. Symptoms start around age of 55 when the patient (in my aunts case) starts to loose coordination skills, followed by strokes and dementia, and if the patient survives those, death in about ten years.

My aunt has already suffered several strokes while in hospital and currently cannot move. She can talk, and while she’s too tired to read or even listen to the radio, she loves to have visitors. Mom told me they had both cried together, the visit had been very important to them both.

At the moment there is no prognosis, anything might happen. We’ll have to take it day at a time, for now she’s receiving physiotherapy to try to recover from the strokes. Doctors say there’s nothing they can do above that, and there is no cure for CADACIL.

Worst for me, I think, is the absolute certainty of dementia. I’ve seen enough people dealing with demented relatives to know what it can be like. It seems that these people are loosing who they are, forgetting people and events, and often their personalities completely change.

And my aunt is such a lovely woman. She’s always been soul of the party, always happy and cheerful. Always interested in other people, considerate and giving. I wouldn’t want to change a thing about her. And yet, dementia would do it, thought I really can’t bear.

And my uncle, he’s so completely lost without her. They’ve always been together, no children, so they are extremely close. This all has been almost unbearable for him. My mother, being the wonderful person she is, has now taken him under her wing. Hopefully close family contact will make it better for him. Or at least easier.

My thoughts are with them.

Best of RAW 2003

As you might or might not know, wrestling (as in Sports Entertainment) is one of the things I enjoy watching. RAW is the best soap opera on the telly at the moment, and after watching the last years last episode yesterday, together with Best of RAW 2003 episode, it inspired me to write about some of my favourite RAW moments of last year.

The Best of... show concentrated on best matches, and they fortunately listed my three favourites:

Triple H (WHC) vs. Ric Flair (RAW 19/05/03) for the World Heavyweight Championship - this, although maybe technically not the best, was my absolute favourite match of the year. In fact, that episode of RAW is my absolute favourite episode ever. The atmosphere, the build-up to this match was absolutely incredible. It starts with Triple H complaining about a hard match on the previous night (Judgement Day: match with Kevin Nash) and not wanting a match for that evening. There was an argument between co-GM's and the result was that although Triple H would need to wrestle in a title defence match, he could choose his own opponent. He decided to be clever and choose Ric Flair - the idea being that in the match Nature Boy would just lie down - "You talk some trash, I talk some trash, you lay down, 1-2-3" - and match would be done with. But Flair ended up taking his (maybe last) title shot very seriously, and with an incredible pep talk from Shawn Michaels, this episode culminates in a serious match between mentor and student, between two best friends. Dragon said the other day when watching the highlights of this match that he's never wanted anyone to win as much he wanted Ric Flair to win this one. Amazing performances (in and out of the ring) from both Triple H and Ric Flair.

Christian (IC) vs. Rob Van Dam (RAW 29/09/03) ladder match for the Intercontinental Championship - although hard-core matches are not usually my favourites, this match just took my breath away. In case you don't know what a ladder match is, it's a type of match where use of steel ladders is allowed and needed as the title belt hangs above the ring - first man to get it wins. RVD was for once his old cheerful self, and for the first time in a while put his all on line for this match. It's also noted that Christian was wrestling although he had just suffered a whiplash couple of days earlier - the fact that he was actually wrestling at all, let alone in a ladder match was amazing. Match was acrobatic, fast, brutal and emotional, great combination for a great match.

Team Austin vs. Team Bishoff (Survivor Series 16/11/03) elimination five on five tag team match - again, atmosphere and the stakes on the line made this match a pleasure to watch. The special stipulation of the match was that if Stone Cold's team would loose, he would have to quit his job as a co-GM whereas win would let him raise as much hell as he wanted. I have to say this match totally changed my mind about Shawn Michaels - I've never liked him that much, partly because when he came back he was in a fairly bad condition and couldn't wrestle very well, and partly because of his HBK-jobs-for-no-one-attitude. Well, no more. His heroic performance in this match - he was the sole man standing on the face team, bleeding like a dog (after a blade job gone wrong), still managing to drop heel team members one by one - made me a fan girl. And after the match the emotions displayed between HBK and Stone Cold were very touching.

Further reading: rec.sport.pro-wrestling does a yearly wrestling awards poll and it makes an interesting read, in case you want to take a look back at professional wrestling last year.

Choosing a gym

Picking a new gym to do your exercises is difficult business. Obviously people’s needs vary, but I myself usually look at how good selection of free weights is available, how many benches the gym has, is there a good place to perform squats, and whether there are plenty of places to drink water. On the other hand, if the gym is filled with housewives chatting to each other while standing around stairs-machines and reading tabloid papers, I usually avoid the place like a plague.

But you can also tell a lot about the character of the gym by looking around the walls of the place. Most hardcore gyms have motivational slogans plastered all over their walls to encourage the aspiring trainers, and I've chosen my gym several times based on these. I’ve gathered here some of favourites from gyms across the world:

‘Truth is out there, in the free weights area.’

‘You can’t be a gorilla by paying monkey’s dues.’

(Actually, my all-time favourite gym slogan is unprintable, offensive, and possibly illegal so I will spare the readers of this respectable blog).

Light Wrapping

Yay, the new photos are up. This set is called Light Wrapping and all comments are welcome as always.

In fact, I've noticed that some airhead has already left comments, but since they are in Finnish I'll just paraphrase them here. Basically, this guy is asking if Sif came up with the idea herself or if she copied it from somewhere. Excuse me? (And in case you're wondering, she replies that although other photographers might have used the same concept, this set is from her imagination only.)

Unfortunately I find that this is a common attitude amongst people with no imagination and Dragon often comes across this too. Since these people have no concept of original thoughts appearing in their heads, they assume that everyone else is the same - they need to copy other people's ideas and claim them as their own.

Scott Adams once joked about the answer that he gives to people asking "how did you come up with this idea" - it had something to do with green monkeys, blue bananas and a spaceship if I recall correctly, and it was pretty funny. Of course when he presents the story to the induhvidual asking the question they just look at him in disbelief.

Saying "I made it up" just doesn't seem to cut it. It's the bane of creative people.

I'll get the last word and it's no

Except I said yes, by mistake.

It's about copy protected CDs, and yes, I've just bought my first one. Didn't mean to - just grabbed the CD we were looking for from the shelf at the airport and paid for it. Today I read what it said on the album cover. Copy control, indeed. It claims that the CD can be played in most CD players and can also be played on most CD-ROM drives.

You see, what I like to do is copy CDs I listen to most on my work hard drive, this way I don't need to take the CDs back and forth. I have never downloaded music from the internet, I don't have any problems with paying for my music. However, I do expect to have the right to use the tracks for my own personal pleasure, and this has now been denied from me.

In fact, I can't really play this CD on my work computer - it comes with this nifty looking player that allows me to play the CD, but there is a minor problem with it. Mainly the fact that while the player is playing music it takes about 99% of my CPU power, leaving very little for any work I should be doing. I should probably write to Warner Music Finland and complain, but I don't have the energy right now.

Should I have stood behind my principles and not bought the CD (should I have noticed that it was copy protected before buying it)? Probably. Will I do that next time I really want a CD? Probably.

And in case you want to avoid my mistake, don't buy Maija Vilkkumaa's "Ei".

Later: And, if you just take the CD out, the player will crash. Nice.

I am now really hungry

I came across this wonderful blog about Japanese food called i was just really very hungry. It's written by a Japanese lady called Maki and she writes in a most appetising way. Today's recipe is Ochazuke and I've just got to try that at some point. And most of the other recipies, come to think of it.

Aren't I lucky

I was going to write about my MRI scan this morning, but while driving to work I heard a really interesting program about luck that got me thinking.

This program talked about totally rational people believing in luck - like a gambler who bets on a horse with a certain agent and looses, thinks twice next time before laying a bet with the same agent because he was unlucky. Or a mountaineer who refuses to go on a climb if everything is not exactly right - including if she has left behind her lucky ring.

I think of myself as a very rational person who doesn't believe in luck - but this program got me thinking if I do have habits that are governed by superstition about luck. I do say things like "I'm lucky to have met my husband" - although I know (or rather, I believe) that while there was certain amount of chance involved, there was nothing paranormal at work and that we are not destined to be together.

I have a habit of saying "Wish me luck" when I'm going to do something difficult. This is interesting too - I then feel better about my task and myself when someone does wish me luck. In the same way I have a habit of wishing people luck for their difficult tasks. This is where it gets tricky - if I perform better, because I feel better about myself, because someone has wished me luck, does it mean that I am deep down inside superstitious enough to believe in luck? To believe that because either I have from their wishes got some magical luck dust sprinkled on me, or just that because these people are thinking about me at particular time will make a difference on my performance?

Or is it just that the concept of luck is so deeply embedded into our culture, or perhaps in our genes that I can't help but feeling this way? Scientists have done some experiments with pigeons where the pigeons are fed every few minutes, on regular intervals, no matter what they do. But pigeons seem to believe that their actions regulate the food, and start repeating the actions they were doing the last time they got food. Maybe we're just the same: because experience/cultural belief has shown you that crossing your fingers while your best friend is throwing dice may sometimes appear to work, you do it. Or maybe rationalise this to yourself by thinking that "it won't do any harm".

A university professor used to keep a horseshoe above his door - and when asked if a highly educated man like himself really believed in luck, he replied: "I've heard they work even if you don't believe in them".

Indeed.

Dear sir, I'd like to complain

First morning back at work. Feeling tired and slightly detached (at least I managed to drive on the left side of the road) - and the news on radio didn't help to bring me back to reality. I listened to BBC Radio 4 in the car where they had been contacted by a worried listener who claimed that the Big Ben bongs (yes, they called it that) at midnight on New Year's Eve had in fact been a recording and not the real thing. They interviewed a BBC representative and a Conservative party MP for this article to prove that the recording had in fact been genuine and that the bongs heard where indeed live and not a recording.

So they weren't exactly serious, but it still reminded me of those Monty Python "letters to the editor" jokes.

Personal Evil

I managed to read 'Pahuus' (Evil) by Jan Guillou on my way back to England. I thought that instead of doing a normal book review I would rather discuss the feelings and thoughts the book raised after reading it. It is not really simple for me to do this, for the subject matter of the book hits far too close to home.

Even though I felt the translation to Finnish was rather poor, it did little to diminish the power of the book. It is finely crafted work, with a seemingly straightforward story that manages to study a very sensitive subject matter of physical bullying without preaching. Book is very convincing in its brutality and realism, as it is based on the real life of the author.

This book tells the story of Erik, a troubled fourteen-year old boy. He is enrolled into a traditional swedish boys school where the rule of the older students, or 'The Council' is backed up by the school authorities. The Council has a right to physically abuse younger boys, with no fear of reprisal -by the school rules the younger students are not even allowed to fight back or they are expulsed from the school.

Though brilliant at sports, Erik soon becomes the target of bullying due his unwillingness to take orders from the older boys. He starts to fight back using any means possible, finally resorting to ever more extreme violence as the war against the Council escalates. His only friend at the school is Pierre, fat bookworm who act as the philosophical companion to Erik.

The deeper layer of the book behind the story examines the reasons why apparently normal youngsters behave in an appalling manner towards others. How much does the culture or peer pressure influence the actions of bullies? Or do the bullies feel that their hideous actions are justified in the same way as the priests of Inquisition felt that the ends justified their means? Are bullies simply acting on a kind of instinct, which comes naturally to the human race? And what about the teachers? Is their yearning for orderly society with a strict hierarchy an excuse for bullies to lord it over the 'losers' of the schools, since the bullies are born winners in the society?

It was gratifying, though very surprising to see that the author has drawn the same conclusion as I did, all those years ago at school. Bullies are acting on their free will. Unlike their victims, they are making a choice. Therefore, they are commiting an act of evil. Any of the reasons given for their actions are wholly insufficient excuses for the misery they cause to others.

Unlike the current prevailent thinking dictates, I feel that the bullies don't need counselling, more money for their hobbies to draw their attention away from bullying, or deep understanding of their mental anguish which 'forces' them to beat up other people. Instead, they too need to feel how much fun it is to be physically hurt by your peers ganging up on you, how much sense it makes to be attacked by people you have never hurt or offended.

The strongest feeling after reading this book, the one thought on the top of my my mind is that I wish I would have read this book as a kid. I would have enrolled into a martial arts school much sooner, started lifting weights earlier, and much more importantly, fought back much sooner. Each step you back off from bullies is a step towards the grave.

Though Erik solves his problems with the bullies by using violence, I find myself, to some extent with horror, agreeing with him. Sometimes you are given no choice. Sometimes you have to fight.

Home sweet home

Two things that really hit it home that you're back in UK.

We get out of Heathrow in the courtesy bus and hit a traffic jam within 30 seconds. The little stretch of road, maybe half a mile, from Heathrow terminal 1 to junction 4 on M4 took about 15 minutes. "Welcome back home, folks" - as the bus driver said. It reminded me about my dad complaining about the heavy traffic when we came from Hämeenlinna last Sunday which reminded me about traffic on Sundays outside Waitrose. A bit busy but everything is moving. Now motorways around London, they have heavy traffic.

Then getting to my car and driving out of the car park - and immediately needing to slow down because the condition of the road is so poor. For those people fortunate enough not to have experienced British roads, I need to explain that the Brits see nothing wrong with digging a hole in a road and filling it up after the job is done. This is fine. But then the next crew comes along and does the same thing. And the next one. And so on. Until the road looks (and feels) like a mole attack on a golf course, and it's completely disgusting.

Oh well, at least we're back home.

Off we go

Bags are packed, we've had lunch and we're ready to leave for the airport. Feeling slightly sad as always, but it's good to get back home, too.

Last day of the holiday

It's the last day of my holiday, and I always seem to think at times like this if I achieved everything I wanted from my holiday. Am I rested and happy to go to work on Monday? Did I meet everyone I wanted to meet? Did I do the things I wanted to do?

I wanted to spend time with Chu, and that I did as much as it was possible. Problem with Christmas time is that everyone has commitments with families and relatives that can't be overlooked. We had, and Chu had, and that couldn't be helped. But we managed to have some quality time together, and although we did stay up too late ("Oh my god, it's 3 am - tell me that clock is on UK time! No!?!") we also managed to do useful things too. And we were both very happy with the treasure maps that we did, despite the shortcomings in planning.

I wanted to spend time with Thor and Sif, and that I did too. Maybe not as much as I wanted to due to some unfortunate and some fortunate events, but we did manage to sit down in many occasions. Especially very electrified evening of watching Armageddon stays on top in my mind although Thor might disagree. And of course, Sif took some of the most amazing photos of me - the first set can be found on her pages and it's called It never stops. Before you look, here's a disclaimer: no, she didn't abuse me or pump me full of smack, even if I look like it (although near the end she did spray water on me). But if you find the photos emotional and/or artistic, it's all down to her skill as a photographer. Comments are welcome for both the photographer and the model - you can leave them here or comment on individual photos on Sif's site. Second set she photographed is not yet on the net, but it's amazing too. I'll let you know when it is.

I went to a party even though I panicked about it beforehand. Yay me, and big thanks to my friends who calmed me down and helped me to do it anyway. I had a really good time, just as I knew I would, and just as they told me I would. Next time will be easier.

I ate lots of Christmas food, just as I wanted. I won't go there more than that, except just to say that gluttony is definetly one of my favorite sins.

I managed to have some heart-to-heart discussions with some dear friends that I have neglected lately. They are ok, and that's all that matters. I met my sister's new boyfriend for the first time, and just as reports had told me beforehand, he was really nice and they look very happy together. We invited them to visit us in Southsea and hopefully they can come.

I only went to yoga and gym once, which was less than I had planned, but I felt really lazy. Not a good excuse, but I know I'll get back on track once I get home.

All in all, I don't think I can complain. Three weeks of holiday, that's more than my usual holiday, and I truly enjoyed the feeling after week two when it dawned on me that I had a whole week left. Priceless, as they say. Flight tomorrow is not too early, time to sleep late - as we're planning to spend the evening with Thor and Sif - and have a light lunch.

So do I look forward in getting back to work on Monday? Let's just say I don't hate the idea and I know there's lot of work to be done, and be happy with that.

Echo of the small wings

Dragon explains below his reasoning for writing this blog so eloquently I feel I need to say couple of words too.

Firstly, I have a need to write. I used to write quite a lot when I was younger, but when I realised I wasn't as good as I wanted to be I stopped. Silly, I know. I started writing a bit about a year ago when I joined an email based RPG in my virtual home The Farscape Lounge, but I've found it difficult to find time to concentrate on my writing as much as I need to to produce as high quality text as I want.

Secondly, I have friends in far places that I want to keep in touch with, and writing good emails can be very time consuming too. This is my way of telling them how I'm doing. This probably also relates to the fact that many of my friends have blogs too, and I feel too much like a peeping Tom if I don't give anything back. This is for you guys as much as fo