Saturday, 5 May 2012

Kodak moments...

When I woke up this morning, I switched on the radio and heard the news story of the 60 year old female British tourist who was mauled by (supposedly tame) cheetahs in an enclosure at a game park in South Africa. It must have been a traumatic ordeal, I thought.

Apparently she had entered the enclosure with another family so that they could have their photos taken. She had intervened when one of the cheetahs grabbed a girl belonging to the other family. She survived by playing dead until one of the guides chased the animals away with a stick.

I always feel uneasy when I see people's holiday snaps where they're stroking a lion, patting a tiger or sitting on a crocodile. Willingly standing within striking distance of a large carnivore and grinning has always struck me as a bit dumb.

The only shot of me that comes close to standing within striking distance of a large carnivore and grinning, is the one above taken about 15 years ago somewhere in West Wales. To those of you for whom David Attenborough is a stranger, I'm standing next to a vulture while it played with my sleeve. It had just been fed and vultures tend to prefer dishes that are already dead. I felt relatively safe because, as you can see, I'm no dish and I'm not quite dead.

When I got up this morning, I read the story of the woman mauled by cheetahs in more detail on the BBC's News website: Violet D'Mello tells of Port Elizabeth cheetah mauling. One sentence stopped me in my tracks, "Her husband Archie took photos of her ordeal." WTF...!?!

Friday, 4 May 2012

Just gotta ride it...

A Friday evening before a bank holiday weekend is a little like that tipping point when the roller coaster has slogged all the way to the pinnacle of that first climb, before gravity takes your breath away. It is, without a doubt, one of the best feelings in the world.
Today's run at 17:40
Distance5.04 kmTime26:13
Pace5:12 min/kmCadence81 spm
Comments: Grey.

Thursday, 3 May 2012

It's all bananas...

I nearly choked on a banana in work this morning. As I took a bite from it, the memory of eating one last night popped into my head and I started to convulse with laughter, followed by convulsions brought on by choking on the banana I had in my mouth.

The memory that caused this was when I tried to eat a banana last night: having eaten half of it, I tried to peel back the skin to get at the rest and somehow it popped out of its skin high into the air and landed in a full glass of wine. The wine was splashed everywhere. Over me, the sofa, the curtains; there are even spatters on the ceiling. I could only laugh when it happened (after shouting "cock" several times at the top of my voice).

This story (and the choking that prompted it) sparked a discussion about the best way to peel a banana. A colleague I work with, who shall remain nameless (@NLMButterfly), said that she peeled hers from the end opposite to the the stalk. Silence, We all looked at her as if she'd just announced that she strangled kittens in her spare time.

She went on to explain to us that there was less chance of damaging the banana flesh that way. There were many looks of disbelief until, at lunchtime, she demonstrated her method before us. Begrudgingly, someone said, "It looks a more monkey-like banana, I suppose". Whether this is a good likeness, I guess, is down to your personal preference for monkeys.

And whilst we're on the subject of personal preference for monkeys, before going for my swim tonight, I popped into my local polling station on the way home from work to put a big X on my voting slip for the local elections. At the last general election in May 2010, much to my regret (and shame) I voted Liberal Democrat. I have been a Labour supporter all my life but was won over by Cleggy's smooth patter. Never again; I'm going back to my roots; tonight I voted for my local Labour candidate.

I can never understand those who don't vote. I'm not going to bang on about people laying down their lives so that we could have the right to vote, I'm not going to yap on endlessly about it being our duty and I'm not going to bore you with a list of countries in the world where people do not have this right that we seem to take for granted. No, as undeniably true as all of that is; if you don't vote, then I don't want to hear your whinges about services being cutback or withdrawn, about how crap local amenities are or whether the roads are gritted often enough next January. No, now's your chance to have your say.

If it was up to me, I'd make voting compulsory. Countries exist where not voting is breaking the law. Voting in these countries is often seen as more of a duty than a right and I think that's what I believe. People who don't vote where that right exists have no voice, they are (quite literally) dumb. I just don't get it. To continue with tonight's theme; it's all bananas...

Wednesday, 2 May 2012

Rhod Gilbert...

I went to see Rhod Gilbert at the Wales Millennium Centre last night. I laughed like a drain, as he entertained a packed house with his hysterical rants for over two and half hours. I'm not going to review his show, The Man with the Flaming Battenberg Tattoo, as there are enough reviews out there on the internet already.

All I will say is, if you get the chance to see him, then do. For those of you who have never heard of him or those of you wanting a bit more of him, have a look at the clips section of his website.

Tuesday, 1 May 2012

Number crunching...

Since Novemeber 25th 2011, when I first got my current running watch, I have run:
118 times
490.82 km
For 46:57:50 h:m:s
At an average speed of 10.5 km/hour
At an average cadence of 81 spm
Running 434,122 steps
Burning 39,211 Calories
That's quite a bit. It's strange when you add it all up like that. The figures become so large they're meaningless. Let's break it down: on average I run 4.15 km, each run burns 332 Calories, takes 3679 steps to complete and lasts for a little under 24 minutes. OK, it's starting to make some sense. Sometimes it's useful to crunch the numbers a bit; place them on a human scale so they mean something.

Over the weekend I found this population calculator on the BBC's website. It calculated that when I was born I was the 3,168,926,914th person alive on earth and the 76,938,919,834th person to have lived since history began. Furthermore, living in the UK with a population of 62,345,006, we have an annual population growth rate of +0.6%; that's 85 births, 66 deaths and 23 immigrants every hour. Being male and living where I do, my life expectancy is 77.4 years. I love stuff like this. I hate it too.

It's all based on means, modes, medians, approximations, extrapolations and projections. I'm sure that were I able to submit other details about who I am it would alter the calculations. As it stands, it's a frivolity, a bit of fun. As with all statistics, the danger comes when such broad metrics are applied to quite specific instances. It's like a view from space; it says nothing about my life.

Lies, damned lies and statistics...