vitamin D boost

Out before much traffic today, for a spin around a few sunny lanes. There may have been sunshine, but my first few tee-shirt minutes felt distinctly cold until the general brilliance of the scenes took over.

There's still late daffodils and at home the garden is displaying yellow tulips which are just preparing for their main display. Most trees are still only hinting at spring, but in two weeks I suspect the scene will be very different. The blackbird nest in the jasmine is hardly camouflaged at all until more leaves grow.

In the adjacent fields, large machines were cutting the hedgerows or priming the ground and ahead of me a horse was being led, with two excited dogs attempting to keep everything shepherded neatly.

I've a busy day ahead of this early morning country snapshot.

eclectic dreams

A couple of television shows that I've watched during the week included the three-nighter called Electric Dreams about consumer technology progress from 1970-2000 and the remake of the originally influential series 'The Prisoner'.

I'm not sure if the first show was even advertised and it seemed to be badged as a BBC4 programme, but does have its own microsite and full iPlayer repeats. The premise was simple. Take a modern gadget-enriched family and propel them back to 1970, then take a daily update of their environment, based upon the technology of the year.

The program started by ejecting he family, reconstructing their home as a 1970s house (smaller rooms and tiny kitchen) retro wallpaper and furnishings and the most elaborate technology was probably a valve operated radiogram and a hosepipe based toploader washing machine. Cue return of family who observe their ancient but shiny Ford Cortina parked in the drive and surprisingly avant garde domestic decoration.

Along the daily chase through the years, more items arrive, with big resets every 10 days as a new decade creates an entire house makeover. Unlike the shows filled with repeats and recaps, there was enough content to keep it lively. A suitably enthusiastic backup technology team digging out and restoring the once commonplace artifacts from museums, collectors and eBay. "Let's cover it in sticky back plastic to make it look more seventies"...

Entertaining interchange between the family, forced again to talk to one another in the device barren early years. Even greater outdoor freedom for the children as the chopper bikes arrived before the electronic harnesses of mobile phones.

Some elements were a little contrived, like the shopping using pagers and payphones, but the ever increasing pace was interesting, with the mid 1980s providing many gadgets, but also many which didn't really work properly.

The mid nineties was where the connected world started to kick in again, with satellite TV channels, mobile phones, SMS texting and a fledgling modem operated world-wide web. And as it became more up-to-date (still some 10-15 years ago), the family became more separated into different rooms and timelines, some of which was impractical in the wintry 1970's house without its central heating.

A fascinating dip into some rather recent history and a glimpse at the acceleration.

Less so with The Prisoner.

Originally written in the days of black-and-white television and probably predating the era of the Electric Dreams, it has received a significant makeover, which included its Americanisation. I've visited the original Italianate whimsical village set in Portmierion, Wales (love that it has webcams nowadays!) and even got an old video of part of the series. Original, iconic, inventive, menacing, mysterious, manic. A few words that fitted the original.

Lost meets The Trueman Show (In the Desert). My quick explanation of the first episode of the new series.

I can see there was a clumsy reference to the Patrick McGoohan character from the original (based upon the bearded chap with the white edged blazer being chased at the start). The Simpsons did it better.

I'm not sure I'd have killed him off though. Bad Karma for the series.

Will it invent or twist enough to sustain interest? I'm not sure - the main actor is a bit too interchangeable with a temporary male lead from desperate housewives. Maybe thats what a post modernist spy is supposed to look like?

Still, it gives an excuse for someone to reshow the old series to see if it makes any more sense to a modern audience.

political daleks

Spotted in WH Smiths...It looks as if even the daleks are joining in with election fever.

advanced puppetry?

Like many, I watched the "leaders' debate" yesterday evening, but am not quite sure what to make of it. Puppetry or Politics?

I wonder if Brown and Cameron are quietly spitting nails that they allowed Clegg to get equal airtime and turn into a 'proper person' on television. They probably both realise that the best he can expect is to be co-owner of a shared parliament.

I started watching the debate on normal television, but there seemed to be a slight sound problem, so the speech was ahead of their lips moving, which made it all a bit distracting and not a good advertisement for ITV. When I switched to HD it seemed better, but then I could also see the lip tightening, grimaces and sheen of moisture of the unexpectedly wound up looking Cameron more easily.

We have an American format for the debate, and there was a little clock whirring theoretically offscreen to ensure they were all given equal times for their statements - no doubt in the interests of balance. Perhaps we can make the subsequent shows less like a knockout quiz show.

The Brown 'three - lists' and 'two - lists with a repeat' were fairly evident as was the rather clunky rehearsed mini speeches and the researcher constructed anecdotes about how they's all been chatting with sundry minorities in their extensive time with real people.

I'm not sure whether most of it really informed the debate though. If I read any of the regular newspapers online today I can see long trails of comments from party die-hards re-inventing the dialogue and polemic.

And the mysterious cartel arithmetic of the voting system means that a remarkable swing to another party of at least 12% would be needed for any change from the usual two.

And whether its puppetry or politics, we need to work out who is operating whom.

can only an expert deal with a problem?

Aside from work and travel, I've been editing that Edie Sedgwick Factory movie over the last few weeks and its hard to not get a immersed in the era and some of the characters, hence some of my recent posts mentioning Andy Warhol, Nico and similar.

There's a linkage from the Factory and Nico, to the Velvet Underground with Lou Reed and then to Laurie Anderson (they're married).

Circumstances have conspired against me seeing Laurie on Saturday at Rough Trade off Brick Lane, where she performs a short excerpt from her upcoming album 'Homeland'.

Fortunately, I've seen her perform the whole piece at the Barbican, and it's finally about to come out on CD - I've also figured out its not possible to wriggle into my schedule to get along.

So the video above is Nico smoking over a Bowie track in a tiny British club as a substitute for not attending the Rough Trade session, and the one below is Laurie, from Homeland, describing problems, experts and media, which somehow fits the current election run-up.

a handful of dust

Well, I made it back to Blighty before the whole Icelandic gods thing kicked off.

The pictures of the smoking volcano look pretty spectacular (especially this one from *ice, which combines the volcano and the Northern Lights) but its salutary to know in advance that some superheated 2mm specs could glue jet engines together.

TS Eliot is famous for the handful of dust quotation, although the Evelyn Waugh book about the trading classes, divorces, money and double standards has an interesting resonance at the moment. I think Waugh was asked to change the story for the American version because it was too gloomy.

Lets hope tonight's politician television spectacular produces something more than a handful of dust.

I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

losing track of time whilst high

It really is Wednesday now, but strangely I found myself counting the days from the weekend to work out which day it was.

Alongside travel I've been mainly in hotels and meeting rooms at least several stories above the ground. I call it 'white boxing' when I move from one type of principally corporate accommodation to another. And being aloft can also cut one from the immediate environment.

My own daylight time has been limited to ten minutes I stole for a short walk around a city block when I was early for an appointment. It was sunny and I could become a part of this city for a moment.

i come from the land of the ice and snow

A couple of upgrades today, one of which was officially 'Involuntary'. As I flipped across to Norway, I was gently taken to one side on the way into the airport lounge.

An upgrade so that I could sit at the very front of the plane.

Then the journey, and an embarrassing book to read during the flight. I'd intended to take Norwegian Wood, but couldn't find it. Instead I found Murakami's Sputnik Sweetheart but before I'd left, the latest copy of Granta popped through the front door.

"Perfect", I thought, as I substituted the new stylish silver overprinted softcover into my densely packed rucksack for the journey.

The chap sitting adjacent to me in the spacious seats was Norwegian and had just been to the UK to visit some friends and attend a soccer match. He'd even got a tattoo of the team and its only afterwards that I'm wondering if it was one of those fake tattoos. It certainly looked realistic enough whilst we were chatting.

But it's a couple of hour flight duration and I soon ran out of things to say about Harry Redknapp and decided to move to reading my book. My new friend had a soccer programme to read.

That's when I noticed the cover of my book in more detail. Most Grantas are themed (the last one was Chicago, I think). This one displayed its theme quite conservatively under an interesting picture.

"No problem", I thought, as I curved the front cover around to make the reading choice a little less obvious.

Then the first story. Called 'The Unwriteable', it was a little like something from that Stanley Kubrick movie with Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, except this was a rather explicit male-only version of just a part of the proceedings. The problem was that it felt as if certain words on every page were written extra large and in that type face called "Noticable Bold".

I got through the first article and looked at the map in the plane. We were only at Cambridge...

This was going to be a long flight.

The next story was relatively straightforward for the first 10 lines, with just the illustration to hide by curling it around like I'd done with the cover. The the full story began to unfold and the Noticable Bold was once again evident.

The next couple of stories were relatively 'plane friendly' and the Fig Tree and the Wasp was positively a good story, as was the 'The Spa'.

Of course, my colleague was occasionally looking across and chatting as we were served beers and later food, so I managed the page turning with some care to reduce any unfortunate side effects. I was doing so well until the main course arrived. The stewardess and my new friend looked at me as I fumbled the book, which fell open at...

"Empty Porn Sets" - a collection of photos.

Oh Dear. And before the ravioli.

Well, there was nothing for it but to read on after this, although the collection of illustrations by Dave Eggers probably raised a subsequent eyebrow from my adjacent soccer fan.

But I'll admit that by the time I got to 'The Blue Zoo' I decided to stop. The book was beginning to struggle as there were so many pages bent around to mask the content. I was concerned it would explode and scatter paper throughout the fuselage.

Instead I started to look out of the window, which above Norway is no bad thing.

I always marvel at the amazing scenery of Norway. Its like there's an invisible scenic field around the whole country and as you enter its airspace everything has to look extra magnificent. Douglas Adams wrote in a similar way when he referenced the crinkly bits in the Hitch-Hiker's Guide.

My personal soundtrack for the day switched to that Led Zeppelin song about 'we come from the land of the ice and snow' as I marvelled at frozen rivers and lakes and small twinkling settlements against a dramatic sunlight and distant mountains.

Then to land. To say farewell to my soccer colleague and to catch the 210km per hour train for the next part of the journey.

Now I'm in the rather pleasant hotel, which is where I received the second upgrade of the day, to a modern suite which seems to also contain its own banqueting table.

Time for some grapes.

物の哀れ mono no aware

I couldn't help but pause today to watch the cherry blossom falling. A moving emotion from the sense of ephemerality as pink blossoms formed a gentle cloud outside my window.

The Japanese write of blossom as a symbol of transience and Murukami's "Norwegian Wood" describes some of the themes - apposite for me to add to my bag as I head today to...Norway.

electro revolt blues

I didn't make the bike ride I'd planned this morning, because the alarm failed and I overslept.

The clock radio is only a few months old, but I've noticed its operating system will occasionally jam. It's done it a couple of times since I've had it, which doesn't fill me with confidence for its primary role to wake me up.

Sure, it has all manner of options but maybe the engineers got a little carried away and technological embellishment has triumphed over base functionality. It suffers from what I consider 'unnecessary moving parts' in that theres a little pop out gadget where an iPod can plug in. I remember my dismay when I unpacked it and discovered the little 'feature'.

And in an attack of the machines moment, the kitchen radio has been progressively losing its ability to receive BBC radio channels. I don't know why, but the signals seem to be getting weaker. Or maybe the amount of other frequencies crackling around are attenuating the FM channels. Anyway, this weekend, there was little to discern above a loud hiss from the one time crystal clear reception.

Oh yes, and then the electric kettle stopped working.

So part of today has been spent replacing parts of the domestic infrastructure, so that I can drink a cup of tea whilst listening to the radio.

ingesting, logging, cropping, editing, transitioning and rendering

A bright Saturday, but many household tasks to perform involving garden, groceries, laundry and similar.

In the background I've been working on some video edits in support of a project and today will set the re-rendering of the nearly complete video sequence, which is around 40Gigabytes in size although not very long in runtime.

There's over 400 cuts in the full sequence, so the workflow for the rendering needs some care. I guess it will take at least an hour of solid computer time to process into its completed high resolution format, so that we can use it on a big screen.

artist reconstruction of sandwich eating incident

My second solo al fresco dining within a few days, although this time it was a brief pause on the way back from Leamington Spa.

The first time, I was simply a little early for a meeting and had decided to walk to the edge of the River Thames, clutching a hastily purchased cheese and pickle sandwich. There was something surprisingly pleasing about this simple sandwich, the freshness of the air and watching a quiet late afternoon London world go by. In my pocket was a small camera, but I'd noticed that I'd not replaced its battery, which was quietly recharging elsewhere.

Oops.

Close by me was Grosvenor Bridge and I could hear the rumble of trains crossing and then an increasingly loud engine sound. Something was odd about it. Yes, a steam locomotive. I watched as a handsome malachite green steam locomotive slipped across the bridge towards Victoria, puffing white smoke and pulling shiny Pullman carriages.

It would have been a photo opportunity, but it's one for the head instead.

"Clan Line", it said on the side of the engine.

It looks as if Hornby make a model of it.