Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Sorry about the lightened blogging of late - but this whole working at insanely early times is starting to have an impact, i.e. I'm knackered most of the time, and get to sit in front of a computer without work to do far less often. Ok, so the office plan doesn't help - where once the sound of merry typing could imply work [blogging's work of a sort, right?], I'm now in prime shoulder-watched territory.
Admittedly it's odd working somewhere, where, for hours of the day, they apparently don't have anything for anyone in the office to do - and yet I'm still not brave enough to start blogging from work (merely read a few of the more erudite blogs). But as we're not supposed to use the internet to access anything other than the corporate website, there's still a certain furtiveness to everyone sitting reading emails [Working on the principle that "they said the internet was off limits because of the potential for viruses, so if I don't go round gaining viruses, then I'm not doing what they don't want me to do". Yes it's slightly shaky logic, but I figure that as everyone else is doing it, I may as well, as long as I'm not the worst offender].
I would start a Call Centre Confidential type diary, but there really isn't much to use. Mostly people don't talk. And Temporary Data Processing Area, with Other Functions, Confessions doens't sound as good.
About as interesting as it gets is trying to figure out if one of the sub-bosses wears coloured contact lenses. Don't know, but she probably does, as her eyes are a bizarre mix of bright colours. That and taking bets [mentally] on whether the person who disappeared after less than a week of work will reappear at any point. Possibly having to be there by 6am might be a deciding factor in it.
The world is very, very strange at 4:45 am. Radio 1 plays stuff that's not on any playlist. The presenters sound like the work-experience people, in voices that could be from next door (which when one's neighbour is fond of late night discussion, one tends to get used to sleeping through. Which is useless for waking one up).
Radio 4 doesn't exist until five-and-twenty to five. Before then it's a streaming version of the world service (hmm, I'm sure I've mentioned this, yet I can't find any relevant post).
When it does start, it does so with its theme tune. I didn't even know it had one. Basically it's most of the Last Night of the Proms (it'll be that soon), with a quick romp round the regions in the middle. Except my knowledge of classic music isn't good enough to know what most of them are.
Of the things I recognise, I wonder how many of them are musical in-jokes. There's "Rule Britannia" - Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the [air]waves, a bit of "What shall we do with a drunken sailor?" - Hoo-ray/hey ho and up she rises...rpt...early in the morning [5:35am probably counts as earl-i, 1], and another tune which I vaguely recognise, despite avoiding all things folk, as being "Early one morning".
[1] Why is it sung "earl-lie" in that song? Is it just part of the silly accent which is traditional to use on this song - all rolled "r"s and broad vowels? Admittedly the version I know is hugely corrupted, as the patent block line [see link] has gone completely, and about the only verse I know of is number 12 by the linked list (and, er, 15).
About the only other tunes I recognise are Danny Boy, Men of Harlech, and that one from the Italian Job (no, not that one, the other fanfare-type one).
[Apparently the Italian Job one is regimental march of the British Grenadiers, but all the versions I can find are dismal MIDIs, which play it much too slow, and of course, do the entire thing, rather than the good bit in the middle].
And what's really freaky is that it's early enough that the normal FM/digital version carries the shipping forecast. And the tag-along bits that contain wonderfully named football teams, such as "Channel Light Vessel Automatic".
However, due to a non-functioning car radio, and invariably leaving only just in time (well slightly late, but the advantages of being up at this time is that there aren't that many other cars around), I've yet to experience the joys of Farming Today. And to think I used to consider Thought for the Day early...
Thought for the Day: Is Rabbi Lionel Blue still alive?
[Not sure about the spelling, but he's booked to appear in November, so I'm guessing so]
Radio 4 Schedule ici. Makes no mention of the theme tune. And of course trying to search using the words "radio" and "theme" is not exactly enlightening (I believe "hiding to nothing" is the technical terminology).
Other oddness about rising so early, and working such strange hours:
- There are invariably huge puddles everywhere. Ok, so this probably because it's rained bucketloads recently, but any rain that falls during the night just sits there, waiting for the sun to turn up.
- Rabbits sit in the middle of the main road.
- A normal office scene is illuminated by horizontal dawn light.
- Our lunch break starts at 10am.
- Work finishes at 2pm, but I've worked all day, so I come out and get really confused by it still being mid-afternoon.
- We pity the people who have the 2-10pm shift. Especially now, as due to strange goings on, it has been decided that they are no longer needed. So it's just the morning shift. Which stays as the morning shift, rather than sliding into normal office hours.
Hmm, some of that list doesn't make sense.
Oh, oh, oh, while I remember, another blog for you to see - and this one's already one of my bookmarks(Obviously I admire true pedanticism). Presenting the Language Log, a remarkably (hence the remarking) good blog on anything vaguely linguistic.
Admittedly, I'm only linking because I'm hoping they won't Technorati their way back here. Why? Because this blog has never fulfilled the well-planned, grammatically sound, and yet informative and interesting intent. That, and they're American [possibly Canadian], I'm not, and never the twain shall meet - at least in terms of which side of quote marks the punctuation goes.
Though should they happen to happen upon here, where do the following come from:
"surely to goodness" and "[on a] hiding to nothing". I've always assumed that the latter was from tanners, who could wreak the leather they were preparing by scrapping [hiding] it too much [to take off all the hair and gorgeous attached tissues], presumably wearing right through. So if you're on a hiding to nothing, it means no good [thing] can come of your work. Is this right, or merely a convenient match to the phrase (probably unintentionally made up by me).
But as someone who has a history of adapting the world around him, I'm worried it might be the latter option. Previous instances include creating different meanings for different pronunciations of words [harassed - ha-ruest: hot and bothered, ha-rasst: as in sexually-... either - i-ther: either this or that. e-ther: either of those], and mishearing phrases, such as "to all intensive purposes".
There's more, but I can remember them now. But somehow I don't match words up with other similar ones, and so have a succession of "how did I not realise that" moments. For example: Pontificate to the Pontiff [and Pontiff to pont/bridge], hermetically-sealed to hermit.
Anyway, I'd better go, as I'm falling asleep, and I've got solve the riddle of who I know in Manchester [One missed call, one new number starting 01616. Not that many people know my number, as the phone is still new-ish. And about as afar a field as they get is Cirencester (or other places equally hard to spell using predictive text)].
Anyhoo,
Admittedly it's odd working somewhere, where, for hours of the day, they apparently don't have anything for anyone in the office to do - and yet I'm still not brave enough to start blogging from work (merely read a few of the more erudite blogs). But as we're not supposed to use the internet to access anything other than the corporate website, there's still a certain furtiveness to everyone sitting reading emails [Working on the principle that "they said the internet was off limits because of the potential for viruses, so if I don't go round gaining viruses, then I'm not doing what they don't want me to do". Yes it's slightly shaky logic, but I figure that as everyone else is doing it, I may as well, as long as I'm not the worst offender].
I would start a Call Centre Confidential type diary, but there really isn't much to use. Mostly people don't talk. And Temporary Data Processing Area, with Other Functions, Confessions doens't sound as good.
About as interesting as it gets is trying to figure out if one of the sub-bosses wears coloured contact lenses. Don't know, but she probably does, as her eyes are a bizarre mix of bright colours. That and taking bets [mentally] on whether the person who disappeared after less than a week of work will reappear at any point. Possibly having to be there by 6am might be a deciding factor in it.
The world is very, very strange at 4:45 am. Radio 1 plays stuff that's not on any playlist. The presenters sound like the work-experience people, in voices that could be from next door (which when one's neighbour is fond of late night discussion, one tends to get used to sleeping through. Which is useless for waking one up).
Radio 4 doesn't exist until five-and-twenty to five. Before then it's a streaming version of the world service (hmm, I'm sure I've mentioned this, yet I can't find any relevant post).
When it does start, it does so with its theme tune. I didn't even know it had one. Basically it's most of the Last Night of the Proms (it'll be that soon), with a quick romp round the regions in the middle. Except my knowledge of classic music isn't good enough to know what most of them are.
Of the things I recognise, I wonder how many of them are musical in-jokes. There's "Rule Britannia" - Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the [air]waves, a bit of "What shall we do with a drunken sailor?" - Hoo-ray/hey ho and up she rises...rpt...early in the morning [5:35am probably counts as earl-i, 1], and another tune which I vaguely recognise, despite avoiding all things folk, as being "Early one morning".
[1] Why is it sung "earl-lie" in that song? Is it just part of the silly accent which is traditional to use on this song - all rolled "r"s and broad vowels? Admittedly the version I know is hugely corrupted, as the patent block line [see link] has gone completely, and about the only verse I know of is number 12 by the linked list (and, er, 15).
About the only other tunes I recognise are Danny Boy, Men of Harlech, and that one from the Italian Job (no, not that one, the other fanfare-type one).
[Apparently the Italian Job one is regimental march of the British Grenadiers, but all the versions I can find are dismal MIDIs, which play it much too slow, and of course, do the entire thing, rather than the good bit in the middle].
And what's really freaky is that it's early enough that the normal FM/digital version carries the shipping forecast. And the tag-along bits that contain wonderfully named football teams, such as "Channel Light Vessel Automatic".
However, due to a non-functioning car radio, and invariably leaving only just in time (well slightly late, but the advantages of being up at this time is that there aren't that many other cars around), I've yet to experience the joys of Farming Today. And to think I used to consider Thought for the Day early...
Thought for the Day: Is Rabbi Lionel Blue still alive?
[Not sure about the spelling, but he's booked to appear in November, so I'm guessing so]
Radio 4 Schedule ici. Makes no mention of the theme tune. And of course trying to search using the words "radio" and "theme" is not exactly enlightening (I believe "hiding to nothing" is the technical terminology).
Other oddness about rising so early, and working such strange hours:
- There are invariably huge puddles everywhere. Ok, so this probably because it's rained bucketloads recently, but any rain that falls during the night just sits there, waiting for the sun to turn up.
- Rabbits sit in the middle of the main road.
- A normal office scene is illuminated by horizontal dawn light.
- Our lunch break starts at 10am.
- Work finishes at 2pm, but I've worked all day, so I come out and get really confused by it still being mid-afternoon.
- We pity the people who have the 2-10pm shift. Especially now, as due to strange goings on, it has been decided that they are no longer needed. So it's just the morning shift. Which stays as the morning shift, rather than sliding into normal office hours.
Hmm, some of that list doesn't make sense.
Oh, oh, oh, while I remember, another blog for you to see - and this one's already one of my bookmarks(Obviously I admire true pedanticism). Presenting the Language Log, a remarkably (hence the remarking) good blog on anything vaguely linguistic.
Admittedly, I'm only linking because I'm hoping they won't Technorati their way back here. Why? Because this blog has never fulfilled the well-planned, grammatically sound, and yet informative and interesting intent. That, and they're American [possibly Canadian], I'm not, and never the twain shall meet - at least in terms of which side of quote marks the punctuation goes.
Though should they happen to happen upon here, where do the following come from:
"surely to goodness" and "[on a] hiding to nothing". I've always assumed that the latter was from tanners, who could wreak the leather they were preparing by scrapping [hiding] it too much [to take off all the hair and gorgeous attached tissues], presumably wearing right through. So if you're on a hiding to nothing, it means no good [thing] can come of your work. Is this right, or merely a convenient match to the phrase (probably unintentionally made up by me).
But as someone who has a history of adapting the world around him, I'm worried it might be the latter option. Previous instances include creating different meanings for different pronunciations of words [harassed - ha-ruest: hot and bothered, ha-rasst: as in sexually-... either - i-ther: either this or that. e-ther: either of those], and mishearing phrases, such as "to all intensive purposes".
There's more, but I can remember them now. But somehow I don't match words up with other similar ones, and so have a succession of "how did I not realise that" moments. For example: Pontificate to the Pontiff [and Pontiff to pont/bridge], hermetically-sealed to hermit.
Anyway, I'd better go, as I'm falling asleep, and I've got solve the riddle of who I know in Manchester [One missed call, one new number starting 01616. Not that many people know my number, as the phone is still new-ish. And about as afar a field as they get is Cirencester (or other places equally hard to spell using predictive text)].
Anyhoo,
