xmas tunes

We're approaching the period when all of the XMAS singles get promoted into the pop charts (whats left of them). The X-Factor machine is doing its very best to get a number one for Christmas, having already seen the Spice Girls tune slip quietly into charity record oblivion.

Keeping with yesterday's 'Waterloo' train station theme, I was musing on seasonal tunes reflecting the late evening scenes around popular London train termini in the week leading to the start of the Christmas holidays.

After the shoppers have left by around nine thirty pm, its best to stay away, unless you wish to become involved in the mini dramatic scenes that play out as a result of too much celebration in the earlier part of the evening.

So as wel as the original well sung and well filmed 'Fairy Tale of New York', about Christmas in the drunk tank I've added the Eastenders' soap opera version set in a betting shop and then rounded off with the 2007 anti X factor Xmas song entry about a drunken Santa in Oxford Street entitled 'We're all going to die'.

I must really try to find something more upbeat. Perhaps thats why Simon Cowell's tunesters get to number one.

Fairy Tale of New York

Fairy Tale of Walford Betting Shop

London Shopping with Drunken Santa

truth beauty freedom love

I borrowed the Baz Luhrman Moulin Rouge video a few days ago and decided I'd spend part of the evening to watch it again. Its quite evocative of the Masque of the Red Death party I attended last week, with red curtains, tragedy, drama and so forth along with that surprisingly good musical soundtrack.

Still an entertaining one to watch, bursting with colour and 'hope' despite the sadness of the main storyline.

bourne (again)

I'm probably the last person in England to see this film, but I vegged out tonight on the sofa to watch it. Great fun with a cut every 1-2 seconds for the first 35 minutes then one 'plot explanation scene' and then back into the action. Interesting approach to the direction with clever editing. Even unlocking a door has about four camera angles and if there's a hint of fumbling a key then theres another jump cut in the scene.

The CIA or whoever they are keep talking about 'Assets' and have impossibly reliable satellite links and GSM tapping systems. It would be good if American cellular was as reliable as the interception systems portrayed.

Naturally I enjoyed all the running about around Waterloo (which got its own caption like Tangier), yet I notice some of the aerial vistas of New York were without titles. Slight sign of American production values. Formula is similar to the other films and there are various homage moments such as the hair dying scene with the girl.

I expect I will watch it again, which is a good sign.

blue christmas

Visitor Pat (PI) commented about the blue lighting of this year's Christmas and I have to agree. Around Sloane Square (previously featured here) its blue, but has been for prior years and that somehow looks magical and right. The blue lights outside the Queen's residence at Windsor Castle just look plain wrong and whoever put them there was having a laugh.

But I also noticed today that getting lights in a particular colour varies from year to year. This year, the yellow-white of normal tree bulbs has been replaces by a halogen style of white and the only way to use yellow bulbs is if there's still a set working from last year. Here at rashbre central we can't even locate last year's bulbs and if we find them then 'dollar to a dime' they won't work.

I suppose I'll be braving the weekend shopping lines to try to get some the right colour. Judging from the busy state of the shopping areas over the last few days, everyone will have already 'thrown a sickie' to go to do their shopping in the theoretically less busy mid-week period. I noticed the 'XMAS Park and Rides' are already working today and town centre car parks are full.

one for pat

blurry santa

Its absolutely true that I was overtaken by Santa's sleigh on the way home last night. I'd been out with some friends at a restaurant and had to leave to take a late evening telephone conference call. I'd stopped the car and then suddenly a santa sleigh sped past.

I assumed it was one of those prototypes like you see with cars sometimes where they have black tape to hide the shape of new models. Santa disappeared off along a side road a few moments later so perhaps was also on a practice run around some wiggly roads.

Lots of people have previously calculated Santa's speed to cover the world, famously Joel Potischman and Bruce Handy who did the physics of the speed and payload performance criteria for Santa's sleigh. Like most, I'm respectful of this but also know about some of the assumption errors in the original sums.

The most notable corrections to be applied are:

- Santa delivers no gifts to naughty children (not even coal)
- Naughty to nice ration is 1:9
- As confirmed by NORAD, one Santa distributes all of the gifts.
- There is only one family per household.
- Santa bypasses non Santa belief system houses.

Calculation Assumptions:

- World population = 6 billion
- Children under 18 = 2 billion
- Global Santa based belief systems: 33%
- Max children requiring delivery therefore 667 million
- Children per household: 3.5 (may seem high?)
- Number of households requiring distribution 189 million
- Eastern orthodox using Jan 5 instead of Dec 25 = 16 Million
- Target Households = 173 million on Dec 25
- Target Households after naughty to nice = 156 million
- Estimated child bed time 21:00 (9pm) with 7 hours sleep.

Gives circa 31 hours (24+7) for all deliveries
Time is 1860 mins or 111,600 seconds

Average number of homes to visit per second = circa 1400.
So average delivery per household is 715 microseconds, which is why Santa normally appears a bit blurry (I previously thought it was the sherry)

Land surface minus Antarctica is around 79 million square miles. Distribute destinations evenly = 0.7 miles between households creating a total distance of circa 110 million miles.

So 110 million miles in 31 hours = 3.6 million miles an hour or circa 1000 miles per second or Mach 4770 at a linear speed.

This explains Rudolph's red nose because of air resistance creating around 20 quintillion Joules of energy per second, which would convert a non reindeer nose to charcoal at such energy levels.

Luckily Santa has lots of special powers so these mere physics facts are no problem to such a superhero.

And ps. my list is in the chimney awaiting collection.

hole

Amongst the stories of genetically modified mice not afraid of cats is the news about the world's major central banks getting together to throw a heap of money into the global economy. Its supposed to stabilise interest rates and keep credit liquidity.

I think this is the first time the Fed, BoE and others have worked like this in concert and probably indicates the scale of the problem as a result of the sub-prime lending and oil price inflation. Another way to put it is that banks are trusting one another less because of the amount of dodgy loans in the system and now intervention is being used to try to fix it.

Somewhere there must still be a large hole in the global ecomony created by aIl the missing money and I can't help wondering how that hole will ultimately get filled.

britney's massive hole

Technorati Tags: rashbre, money, dosh, debt, cenral+bank, Fed, Bank+of+England, Federal+Reserve, oil+prices

Sat Lav In Convenience 80097

The 'shopper friendly' Westminster Sat Lav pilot is supposed to text back the location of the nearest loo in central London. Although the system seems to know where I am, it doesn't seem to find the loos.

Text 'toilet' to 80097 to try it.

Technorati Tags: rashbre, toilet, text, sat, lav, satlav, satnav, gps, txt, sms, westminster, london,

talk about sunset

Three forty in the afternoon and already sunset. The birdies are already getting ready to settle for the evening and I'm on a phone conference wandering around the house when I notice the tree against the skyline.

This is one of those 'take for granted' views that we all have, in this case a distant tree from an upstairs window. I'll still be in conference calls when the birds are fully cloaked in darkness.

twinkle

Through the twinkling lights of Sloane Square today. Waiting for the traffic lights and sneaking a quick photograph. At this time of year, the square looks magical, with a signature blue and white glow as you approach and pretty fir trees lit in the adjacent Sloane Street.

masque of the red death

The Havanan party on Friday was all black tux and cocktail gowns, at least until the Cubans hit the floor and things became very salsa, with added limbo and lots of pink feathery fans. By one o' clock there was a certain amount of wreckage from a party that was hot, hot, hot.

So transport that thought to the next evening's party and this time start after the first party has already ended. Into a huge dark house, through a side door and immediately into a black curtained area where I was asked to wear a white face mask along with my companions. Then somewhere so dark that we soon became separated and facing the experiences of the night alone or with strangers.

Up dimly lit stairs, along impossible corridors with no signage and then pushing gingerly and randomly at any available door, not even sure whether I was somewhere I was meant to be.

And into a small shop; deserted, strange artifacts sprawled across the table. Birds feet, musty jars of who knows what, a sense of foreboding. And another room, a wine cellar filled with ancient dusty bottles. I lifted one, they were real, although again the area appeared deserted. A third room with a tailor in it. He beckoned to provide me a cloak. I gestured to the hats on the wall. He gave me a hooded cloak and I realised my transformation was now to a white, beak faced shadow, as I took off towards another part of the venue. Others following me in were now startled by my appearance and I think considered me part of the action. I realized that I was - and that we all were.

Then to a den, where opium could have been smoked, but at present was making tea the middle eastern way. I was offered a drink. Just as a lover of the proprietor appeared and some emotional moments passed. There were others around me now. Similarly attired, although I had no idea where my companions had gone.

This is the Masque of the Red Death, an installation based theatre piece in London and it should be the talk of the town. The entire and huge Battersea Arts Centre has been converted into a twisting, dark, opulent, gothic installation, with tiny rooms with maybe one player, hidden alcoves featuring lovers trysts, epic stairways, huge halls, ghosts, doctors, murderers and generally the stuff of Edgar Allen Poe.

Part way along, I found the backstage area of a play and could see a music hall vaudeville in progress. Then I was in the changing rooms, then I was in a forest of twisted trees. I found the club where drinking, singing and revelry occurred and sat for a while, being briefly the focus of a singer's attention.

In another I was clutched at by actors trying to prove that there was another world parallel to the one where they argued about literature whilst drinking soup.

Around a corner, to an area behind a stairwell, where, almost hidden, a white faced woman was whispering intensely to another caped figure. And then alone to an attic where something terrible had rent the walls in two, with pictures askew and signs of an argument. There was a banquet with writhing dancers and another woman dragged down a marble stairway by a raffish vagabond.

Maybe this was sensory bombardment, maybe the deep musical tones creaking through much of the venue did add to the feeling of suspense. Discernable threads of Poe's story were present, but it didn't matter about the sequencing.

I loved it, my fellow intrepid spirits loved it. We didn't meet until we had been all Ushered along another dark corridor into another intense area where a finale generated huge applause from the several hundred of us that had made each a unique journey through this place.

And blam, before there was time to think, the band kicked in and the place evolved into a night club, with gothic walls, with tented soft cushioned areas and with many of the characters from the earlier evening now part of the immediately lively dance floor.

If you live in London and like performing arts, go to this total sensory experience - Friday or Saturday to get the full party as well. I'll give this fifteen out of ten.

Technorati Tags: rashbre, red+masque, edgar+allen+poe, poe, ghosts, murder, mayhem, Battersea, Arts, London, face+mask,

up the creek canal without a canoe

The intriguing story about the missing fifty-something year old canoeist who returned after five years with an apparent memory lapse continues to unfold (unravel) with a fair amount of speed.

Allegedly, John (the canoeist) originally re-appeared on his wife's doorstep after only one year away and then took up living back at home as well as in a next door bedsit - wait for it - with a secret door in the wardrobe back to the main house. Somehow this was kept from his son, family and friends.

Apparently, along the way, the major debts he had created were resolved (presumably from life assurance) and more recently a planned move of his wife (and then him) to Panama took place.

Then in the last few days the famous detective work where someone typed "John Anne Panama" into Google and immediately found a picture of them together on the relocation website as a publicity shot. My almost Wordless Wednesday post featured this and I was slightly surprised at the number of non sticky hits based on the 'John Anne Panama' title I gave to the post (tee-hee)...

What I also noticed though, were the number of news-reporter sites set up to trace extra stories about the couple; there is clearly short term money to be made for people who know the couple if they want to sell stories to the Sun, Mirror and even the BBC has a news gathering addition to its blog entries about this story.

Is this another sign of the times, where the media set up fake websites to attract googlers who may know something about a story? I suppose its easier than chasing people along the street with microphones and cameras.

Having said that, Terry McAnish took a tiny 4cm square picture which is on Sky, and I've rendered into a painting summarising the occasion. Here's John, again in hiding under a blanket, being driven by police.

Technorati Tags: rashbre, john, anne, panama, john+anne+panama, google,

salsa

Dancin' days are here again, as the song goes and tonight (tonite?) its Cuban which means mohito fuelled Salsa.

So instead of putting the dancing shoes on, I think the idea is to kick them off and dance in bare feet.

En Nueva York y Chicago
En San Francisco también
En Los Ángeles querido
Y en Miami que pasa
Hey!

Canto a la salsa
Es el ritmo que me hace
Me hace mover
Me hace gozar
Me hace levantar para bailar

or words to that effect.

Here's my gentle iZotope remix to set the scene.
El Cuarto de Tula