meish dot org: life, unfolding

When I lived in Seville, as late spring turned into early summer, it got hot.

Really hot.

Hot like a fair-skinned person from northern Europe dreams of for a few weeks a year, but fears beyond that.

Hot like holidays.

Hot like lying around barely moving for several hours in the middle of the day.

Hot like siestas suddenly make sense.

Hot like scurrying in a beetlish manner from shadow to shadow along the street whenever you had to go out.

Hot like the only relief was lying barely clothed on the cool marble floor of the living room after a cold shower, metal blinds shut tight and tickled by a light breeze from a lazily swirling ceiling fan.

Hot.

For most of the day, it was simply too damned hot to eat, but there were two things which became staples during that stifling summer and since.

Tinto de Verano - “summer wine” - is th classic long cool drink, but because it’s made with wine rather than spirits, it’s not so potent, and instead is remarkably refreshing.

You will need:
A tall glass, like a classic coke tumbler
Lots of ice
Red wine - table variety is perfect. In fact, look in your local supermarket for French or Spanish table wine or vin de pays which come in a plastic bottle or carton, like juice. You want something cheap, fruity, not trying too hard.
Schweppes bitter lemon mixer. In Spain they use a kind of lemonade called la casera gaseosa, but bitter lemon is ideal. Fizzy clear lemonade (r whites, etc) is too sweet. At a push you can use fizzy water and lemon juice.

Fill glass with ice.
Add red wine to the 2/3 mark.
Top off with bitter lemon.

Take a long cool sip. You’ve earnt it.

(incidentally, I’ve seen something like this advertised this summer as a branded thing for blossom hill rose. Don’t believe the hype!)

Gazpacho del campo, as made by my friend Javier’s mother in a tiny village in Jaén, is nothing like the chilled, pallid soup you may have met before. In fact, it’s more of a salad.

You will need:

Bread (like from a baguette), torn into rough lumps bigger than croutons but small enough to be speared by a fork and fit in your mouth.
Lots of cucumber & tomato, a little onion, garlic, straight from the fridge and all finely chopped - keep all the juices as you chop.
BIG slug of olive oil.
Decent slug of vinegar (balsamic)
Slug of tomato juice (if your veg isn’t very juicy or if you like it)
Salt and pepper (plenty)

Put the bread in the bottom of a bowl.
Throw on the salad bits and all the juices.
Glug on the oil, vinegar and tomato juice and seasoning and toss well, so everything smooshes together a bit. You’re aiming for a soggy salad.

Nom with a glass of tinto. Deeeeeelish.

The thing is, chilled soup is sometimes a bit meh, because the consistency and the flavour are unexpected and can be quite bland. Having the same ingredients as a wet salad allows all the flavours to emerge and collide in your mouth.

Enjoy!

Father is reading a battered HP Lovecraft. His hems hitch up to mid calf when he sits down, exposing an inch of pallid flesh between black sock and trouserleg. He forages in his hand luggage and extracts a pair of expensive sound-cancelling headphones from the depths. Snapping them over his ears so the soft pads flatten the white whiskers of his beard, he announces to his travelling companions: “excuse me while I disappear into sonic isolation.”

They roll their eyes at each other, as if this is the kind of thing he does all the time.

Daughter is dressed for work, and reading the inflight magazine for Andromeda Spaceways. Her neat work bag and casual shoes contrast with her parents, who are kitted out for a journey. She is in commute mode: unmoveable, unflappable, undisturbable.

Mother is a rummager. She ferrets in the big blue bag for a while, then (having retrieved a pen), hands it to father across the aisle. He grumps from within his cone of silence and bundles it on his knee, balancing the rear weight of it on his leather bumbag. She continues fossicking deep within the black bag with the corporate travel luggage tag. Whatever she’s looking for, it’s in there somewhere.

For two stops she roots about in the overstuffed knapsack, feeling her way for the prize.

Glancing around the carriage distractedly, father’s eyes light on her quizzical rummaging and offer an eyebrow of help. She shakes her head and switches hand.

Just….maybe…..aha! From the bowels of the bag, she draws a tatty lime green exercise book, complete with a printed table of mathematical and computing functions on the back cover. Then she has a micro-rummage for the pen again, before using it to make a note in the book. Then book is slid back into the coccoon of the black bag, and she taps father on the knee and beckons for the blue bag again. Pen is returned to the depths of the blue, and all is calm.

Distracted from HP Lovecraft, father glances to check the safety of the suitcases, then fingers flit to breast pocket of his crisp white shirt to feel for the tickets, check that they are where they should be.

They are safe. Their journey is under way. The train rumbles them towards departures.

The world has been watching events unfold in Iran following the election last week, and - as seems to be the case increasingly around events of global significance - via social media (specifically Twitter), we’ve been able to keep up with the latest info from the street protests and the situation on the ground.

Twitter has become an amplifier of global proportions, turning up the attention on a myriad of distributed facts, opinions, links and updates about any situation - and this is no exception.

But as we follow the situation unfolding on Twitter (and in big media), I just wanted to share this thoughtful article by a former Iraq war and Pentagon correspondent about rumours and the potential for hopeful misinformation, and how Twitter might be stoking or reinforcing them:

None of this is to excuse the behavior of the government after the election results came out. Or to diminish the bravery and courage of the people who are out in the streets in Tehran getting beaten. But what if it’s based on a lie? A Twitter-fueled, mass delusion of a lie? That the one third of people who voted for Mousavi convinced themselves, via a social media echo chamber that selectively picked rumors and amplified them until they appeared true, that they in fact represented two thirds of the country? And then tried to bring down the government based on that delusion? Maybe it’s not the case this time. But doesn’t this entire episode seem to show how such a thing could happen? And then what?

While I’m concerned about the post-election situation in Iran, I’m also cautious about the Twitter effect, partly because of the potential for intentional misinformation being spread via social networks, but also for many of the same reasons that influenced my thinking about Twitter and #AmazonFAIL which I wrote about in a post comparing the virulent, damaging, unrelenting backlash to wildfire and a social media mob.

They say that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. But a little information, misassumed, miscommunicated and fuelled by internet attention … can also spark a wildfire.

Information which spreads quickly, explosively and loudly isn’t necessarily reliable, accurate or helpful, and we’d do well to remember that before believing, acting on, or passing it on blindly.

It’s easy to get caught up in the moment, feel the infectious nature of rumour and the thrill of disseminating third(/fourth/fifth/sixth…)-hand experience, and want to feel part of a global movement, but sometimes doing so may actually cause more harm than good.

A friend shared a link to the Freaking News celebrity photoshop contest with me the other day, and in case you haven’t seen it, it’s worth a look. Basically, people have taken images of celebrities and then rotated their bodies while leaving their faces in place. It’s a little difficult to explain, but have a look at the examples in that link and you’ll get the idea.

Of course, everyone looks a bit weird, but the truly worrying thing is that some celebrities - Dennis Rodman, Elton John - actually look pretty good (or at least naturalish) with their faces on upside-down, if you can cast aside any lingering questions about what freakish accident might have caused them to end up thus afflicted.

So of course I had to have a go myself.

Aside from realising that it makes many of my male friends look like crazed Amish (above), or have heads that eerily work both ways up (below), I also discovered that even for a photoshop doofus like me, it only takes 5-10 minutes to do a passable version, and another 10 or so to polish it if you really must have it completely realistic (well, as realistic as a person with their face on upside-down can do, at least).

And here’s how you do it…
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Today is the 9th anniversary of the very first UK blogmeet, which took place at the Lincoln Lounge in King’s Cross (mere metres from my office nowadays).

Back on Saturday June 11th 2000, a ragged band of early-era bloggers got together and spent a happy afternoon talking nonsense and taking solace in the fact that this weird blogging lark (which everyone else found so weird at the time) was considered completely normal and even interesting by the gathered gang.

Present on that day were:

Dan Hon
Adrian Hon
Tom Coates
Jen Bolton
Katy Lindemann
Giles Turnbull
Luke Martin
Johanna MacDonald
Dave Green (who I remember was wearing a particularly fine NTK jacket that day)
Stephen Reid
and me

And you know the best thing?

I’m still in touch with all the people above, and I count many of them among my closest friends. Plus most are still blogging in some shape or form. The itch never goes away.

We still meet up occasionally for drinks in various bits of the world, even after all this time. That’s the effect of blogging community. Long may it last!

Today, June 8, is World Oceans Day.

The sea informs and inspires a lot of my world. I need to cross it to see family, and I have lived by or near the ocean for a long time (and on it, for a summer) - the Atlantic, the North Sea, the Mediterranean, the Pacific. Although I don’t at the moment, I find myself often yearning to paddle, or watch the swell rolling in, or lie spread-eagled in warm seas, bobbing in the current.

I could not be without it.

Sustainability is often about encouraging individuals to make simple choices. The kind of fish we buy & eat is a good example of a personal choice which has a wider impact - global stocks of cod, tuna, salmon and others are suffering due to overfishing caused by continuing consumer demand. It’s up to individuals to make choices which support sustainable fishing methods.

The End of the Line is a film about fishing and overfishing and what will happen if we can’t act to ensure that we consume fish in a more sustainable way.

It’s in cinemas throughout the UK today (with special events tonight including interviews with lots of people involved in the production), but if you can’t make it tonight, please try and go some other time.

Think of the ocean: what does it make you think about?

Big Brother started again in the UK last night.

I won’t lie: I think it’s nonsense. I haven’t watched it since the very first series back in 1999 (?) (when it had the feeling of new curious sociological phenomenon, and everyone was genuinely riveted by the Nasty Nick leaving the house development) but since then it’s buzzed away vaguely at the back of my summers, without any particular attention from me, like a tired wasp against a windowpane.

Why would I want to watch the tedious antics of a bunch of people of limited intelligence and entertainment value who I neither know nor care about? I can do that every day on the bus.

Working in media, however, I can’t fail to have some residual awareness of what’s going on, and it’s become clear that in recent years, to try and revive the tired audience and keep users hooked throughout the long stretch of nightly updates throughout the summer, they’ve fiddled with the format, and introduced a series of gimmicks.

16 people in the house
A secret house next door to the real house
Cultural exchange with a contestant from another country’s Big Brother
A rich side and a poor side to the house
A king (or queen) of the house
Tasks which involve endurance
Tasks which involve ridicule
Tasks which involve backstabbing
Tasks which involve nudity
Fake evictions
Double evictions
Surprise evictions
Twins
Couples
Ex couples
“Famous” people

All have which have conspired to mean that

a) the format changes so radically every year that the rules can be somewhat hard to follow (if you bother at all)
b) the show is less reality TV and more prolonged gameshow. It’s a residential version of the generation game, mostly, combined with elements of the infamous Milgram and Stanford prison experiments.

To save you the bother of watching this year, I’ve managed to source a top-secret list of all the gimmicks involving format, tasks and contestants that they’ll be employing this season to try and keep audiences interested:

1. They are all actually horses
2. Half of them are blind and the other half are deaf
3. They are all left handed
4. They can only talk in rhyme for three weeks
5. One of them is a secret Libyan
6. Two extra housemates have been hiding in a secret compartment under a trapdoor beneath the fridge for the first eight weeks, only coming out at night to nibble on leftovers
7. They must all answer to the name Trevor
8. The house is built over a plague pit
9. There’s no toilet
10. They’re not broadcasting it at all this year, so all the housemates are gurning and preening and backstabbing for nothing
11. A 1 ton bomb will go off if anyone mentions J___ G_____
12. All the beds will be replaced by sandwiches for a week
13. They must all follow a macrobiotic diet
14. An additional housemate will be introduced, who will refuse to speak to anyone
15. One housemate must volunteer to die or they will all be killed
16. They must end every sentence with “TWIIIIIIIIING!” on Thursdays

That should keep them watching.

Or not.

Sometimes, there’s more beauty (or at least aesthetic interest) in removed or partially removed things than in what was there before.

This seems especially true with advertising.

They’re doing lots of restoration work in the bowels of King’s Cross tube station at the moment. These former advertising posters can be found in the entry/egress tunnels from the Victoria line platforms.

More after the jump…
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Enjoy England, the domestic marketing division of Visit-Britain has got a new advertising campaign at the moment, which revolves around the idea of aerial views of landscapes, and the positioning of map pins. It’s an obvious next step for a tourism approach in these days of familiarity with Google Earth and LiveMaps, but it’s well done and there’s no denying that the photography is stunning.

Here’s the TV advert:

And on their accompanying blog, they provide details about the various filming locations used in the ad shoot.

I also spotted this poster next to the district line platform at Hammersmith tube station this morning:

(Please excuse poor image quality - iPhones have their limitations)

Which is a vast improvement from their previous rather politically-tinged ad campaign:

(Only kidding - that’s a sign around the back of their offices in W6)

But on their new poster, although there are a range of interesting suggestions about things to do - picnic, train ride, fishing, country walk - and the location itself looks beautiful, there’s no indication on the poster or on the site of where the location actually is.

Which leads to two possible conclusions:

One, that it’s not a real place, but a figurative one, made from a composite of some other places, in which case they’re going to get caught out as soon as someone manages to hunt down the elements used.

Two, that it’s a real place but they’re not telling where, in which case they’ve missed a trick because people might actually want to go there.

Either way, I’d be very interested to know.

Update!

The sleuthing powers of the internet know no bounds! Crouchingbadger correctly identified the location as the Larpool Viaduct over between Ruswarp and Whitby in North Yorkshire:

View Larger Map

Good to know, but ever-so-slightly irksome that I didn’t spot it straight away since I’ve actually been there and walked over the viaduct with P (on our minimoon, I think):

I needed a new table in my study for crafty projects (sewing machine, somewhere to use cutting board, dedicated place for framing etc) but I quite fancied something a little bit different.

Coincidentally, our old road atlas was falling apart (and out of date), and I cannot bear to throw away a map, even one as pedestrian as that, so I thought I could combine the two creatively….

So yesterday while the football was on I nipped to Ikea and bought a plain boring 100X60 tabletop, and today I took advantage of the sunshine today and decamped to the back garden with a few bits and pieces and got to work.

And in case anyone wanted to do the same, here’s what I did and what I learnt.

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