i might have won something but i still don't know

With Easter activities, it's been a few days since I last posted.

One activity in particular has kept me quite occupied.

It's my book gambling.

Ages ago, I said I'd put my novel royalties from 'The Triangle' to some gainful use and decided that the best one would be modest gambling. There's only been a trickle of income but with a few small wins the money has somehow managed to bump along at a slightly positive level.

Imagine my excitement to receive another one of those little emails that said that there may be something of interest if I logged onto my gambling account.

I should explain that my gambling is rather low-effort, comprising lottery and premium bonds.

Anyway, I'm not a very good gambler because I didn't know my account number and had to wait until I was back at home and could look it up. I should also explain that this all started before Easter, when I was travelling around Cornwall.

So back at home, the magic number was entered and then it asked for my password.

I typed in what I thought it would be, but it gave that brrp that says 'no'.

I tried a few variants based upon the creeping complexity of passwords, which means that what started as a short password has got progressively longer because (a) it needs number (b) it then needs a capital letter (c) it can't be a simple word (d) it should have a non alphanumeric included (e) it can't resemble a previous password (f) and sø øn.

None worked and the system then said I had locked the account.

I followed the special instructions to do a reset.

Answer some special questions and then supply a phone number.

Wait for a message on the phone.

The phone was in another room and as I reached it, I could see someone from the USA was trying to contact me. I flipped it to voicemail so that I could deal with the password.

Wrong.

The call from the USA was the one linked to the password retrieval. I had to answer it and listen to the message.

I went through the process again and my new best friend from America called a second time.

This time I picked up the phone.

"Now type in the two numbers displayed in your browser."

I did. "Now we will send you a new password"

I checked my email.

I checked my text messages.

Nothing.

I waited ten minutes.

Still nothing.

I decided to try the help desk number, which was open until mid-evening.

I called them and explained everything that I'd done, but that the password had not been sent.

They politely explained that the password would be sent to me.

But..it would be sent by post and could take three working days to be processed.

That'll be after Easter then.

The letter finally arrived yesterday.

Great, I can open it, logon and find out how much I have won.

not exactly.

They have sent me another form, which I must sign and return before they will issue me with a temporary password.

I posted it back today.

a tap helps me learn which way is up

I'll expect to be testing the new improved bathroom over the next couple of days.

As I predicted, we had the comedy moment during the testing of the squirty switch. There were only a small number of positions, but the instruction leaflet didn't bother to mention which pipe shot water out and which way was off.

A small game of 'trial and error' ensued which was made extra special by the change from one type of tap to another.

The original control taps provided were more angular but didn't have an obvious pointer end. Their substitute replacements did, but created a strange effect of not knowing which way was 'up'.

Yes, I was caught standing in the shower holding my thumb over a small pipe whilst a two bar pressure pump blasted water all over me.

We live and learn.

I now know which way is up.

a postcard from the sunny south west

They say there is snow in many of the higher parts of the UK today, with up to 30 cm in some places. All the more strange that I've spent the last few days wandering along one of the coastal footpaths in bright, warm sunshine.

It's still too early in the season for there to be many people around although the beaches had a light sprinkling of well-wrapped folk, including a few surfers catching the early waves.

We've been mainly on the southern coastline of Cornwall, quiet villages still preparing for tourists with many a fresh lick of paint for the new season.

Before we returned, we headed north along a short section of the Atlantic coastline, similarly sunny before the only splash of rain as we finally jumped back into the car for the homeward journey.

So hardly a thought of snow and cold around here, with blue skies again this morning and thoughts as fresh as my still valid car park ticket for Padstow.

deller and shrigley

I somehow managed to catch up with my cycling on Saturday, clocking an extra 51 miles, which safely put me over the 40 miles a week I'm aiming for.

It would have been pleasant to soak in the bathtub after this, but at the moment it's not to be, until a few more finishing touches get applied, not least of which is that the control unit requires a new cartridge because the one installed has a slight leak.

So above there's a copy of my latest intense art installation, which I'll call 'bath - unfinished' featuring a grout spattered bath awaiting completion.

It somehow reminds me of the entrance to the Jeremy Deller exhibition I visited a few days ago.

Deller's art is quite expansive and themed, with large conceptual arcs to bring to all together. In the current show, you walk into his bedroom, and can riffle through artefacts stored in cupboards along the sides.
In the next room, there's a section devoted to the melancholy and agit-messaging of the Manic Street Preachers, complete with pictures and a scrap-book diary.

In another area there is large scale work from the protests related to the pit closures from the Thatcher era, with the reconstruction of the battle of Orgreve Colliery also depicted.

There's a section devoted to failures too - a new tube map to complement Oyster cards subversively drawn like a bicycle and a series of entrances to the Olympic site which includes a look of druidic Stonehenge.

Yet another room relates to Iraq, and features a rusting car bomb and a juxtaposition of Britain and Iraq with place names swapped. There's a place to sit under flags and hold debate about the politics of the region too.

I also viewed David Shrigley's exhibition, which has plenty more 'single slide' humour along the lines of a bad picture with a caption saying 'this isn't very good' (I made that one up, but it's a reasonable facsimile of those displayed)

It's quite magazine friendly and probably gets more coverage because of this, although I found it altogether more transient.

It was when I got to the inevitable 'shop at the end of the show' that I could see the difference in appeal between the two. I felt that Deller's work was more thought provoking but would be difficult to pick up and carry around. Shrigley's was more of a postcard giggle or a short stab at a single social norm.

Maybe a long soak versus a quick splash?

sandwiched between meetings

My 40 miles a week cycling plan took a nosedive this week because of being hotelled away in Cardiff and then briefly via home and back to Bristol on Friday. By Friday I'd done all of 8.5 miles. In truth I am well ahead of my 'average miles', with the previous three weeks being about 435 miles, so strictly speaking I'm still ahead of plan.

Then a good result on Friday was the last meeting of the week set as a conference call by phone, which my colleague and I took from my house.

There was a good sense of accomplishment as we finished and I commented that I didn't even need to go back home. In the heat of meetings I'd sort of forgotten I'd already driven to Bristol and back that day and we'd even eaten sandwiches in the car in a motorway services on the M4.

But the good result was I now had an early finish and could click up another 20 or so miles leaving about a dozen for Saturday.

in which I am offered large quantities of Italian PVC

To optimise logistics for the run on Sunday, I'd turned up with just the running clothes, tee shirt, shorts, nothing to carry. The shorts also only had one of those inside pockets about big enough for a phone or a couple of credit cards. I'd put my car key in it wrapped around with a banknote.

I'd also got plans after the run and had strategically positioned my car, with some extra clothes and a bike in the boot, in one of the streets just behind the Houses of Parliament - about half a mile from where the run had taken place.

So after the run, I'd headed back to the car with my bottle of water and my number still pinned to my slightly comic tee-shirt.

I was actually sitting in the car drinking the rest of the water when someone pulled up alongside me in a blue car.

"How do I get to Heathrow?" he asked.

"Turn right at the end of the street onto the Embankment, follow the road along by the river and look for signs A4 and the M4," I replied.

"A4, M4," he repeated, "Are you Italian?"

"Strange," I thought.

"I am from Milan," he continued through the wound down window, "I have just been to a fashion show in London and have some samples that I don't want to take back to Italy. I have to pay extra baggage charges. I'm in the fashion business and would like to give them to you as a gift."

He started to reverse his little blue hire car into the space behind mine.

"Oh yes," I thought, "I haven't heard that one before."

I mused about whether to drive away or let it run. I decided to see what would happen next.

He opened the door to his car and showed me the pile of new clothes. They all had 'Sample' written on their cardboard labels. There were leather coats and suits with the pockets elaborately stitched closed, like you see in more upmarket stores.

The thing is, I've been down this path before. Some places I've worked have whole economies built on fake products. In other places, like Canal Street in New York, it's almost sport. The fancy watch I had for three years until the battery ran down was from a car park when I was on the way back from an airport.

So when the guy started to use words like 'Armani' and the goods had words like 'Emporio' on them, I was convinced it was a scam.

Maybe I'd let it runs few minutes longer, until I'd finished drinking my water.

"Here, my friend, have this and this and this and this, for free to help me reduce my baggage. I get all of this given to me but it's no use because I'm in the business."

He'd been placing jackets and suits into a big carrier bag. They all had Italian logos on them.

"Thank you but I'm sure this isn't necessary," I started to say, whilst thinking when's the big question...

"My friend, these are all free for you, I just ask one small thing."

Here it comes

"My son, it is his birthday, he is eighteen," He wrote the numbers 1 and 8 on the side of the car for effect. "It is his birthday when I get back to Milan, I just ask that you give me something so that I can buy him a present at Heathrow. Look I will put these items into your car."

I was thinking it was enough. I'd seen how it worked. I'd pointed out that I was just back from a run.

"Er, I don't have any money," I said.

"Not a problem," he replied, "you have cards?"

Yeah right.

"No," I explained quite truthfully,"I don't have any cards in my running clothes. I just carry a very small amount of money." (Quite true - my cards were elsewhere).

I saw his slightly crestfallen look and him starting to rebalance the items he'd been willing to donate to me.

"Look, I have this very small amount of money - that's it"

He looked at me and I saw him register properly that I was wearing running clothes, a number pinned to my front and a ribbon with a medal around my neck. I honestly think he decided to fold.

"Here," he said, "I'll take this," as he took the note from my hand and handed me the carrier bag full of jackets.

I waited to embrace the aroma of free monomers.

a short run in the park

Like many, when I volunteered for Sport Relief today, I'd forgotten the change of clock times. I still somehow managed to be in the right place early enough to notice an early chill on my arms.

Soon forgotten as I turned the corner into Horseguards Parade. Crowds of people were already forming and after I'd pinned my number I moved towards the funnel ready for the start.

I'd donned the official tee-shirt with its big red logo and those red Union Jack socks, but there were plenty of Supermen, ballerinas, Spidermen, hirsute Barbie dolls, running club athletes with stop watches and family groups, including a pram and a push-chair.

Then a chance to spot a few celebrity runners and join the warm-up routines before our 'Wave A' were dispatched into the Mall.

It was only when we were running that I really got a sense of the numbers. I could see the part where the route folded back on itself, initially empty, but soon filling so that by the time I was on that section we had a solid block of runners in both directions. There were plenty of different running speeds, and I think my most memorable 'being overtaken moment' was when a huge SpongeBob SquarePants raced past me.

Of course we were running past famous landmarks like Buckingham Palace, but that aspect somehow blurred into the main experience; it was more about seeing the people than the sights.

And then, rather quickly, the finish came into view and apart nearly tripping over a marker cone, I was over the line and being offered a bottle of water. A few seconds later, a medal. A thoroughly entertaining way to raise money for a great cause as well as acquire a couple of minor new aches.

experimental replacement of the mac mini with a mac tv

For several years I've had a Mac mini connected to the big television to provide a range of services like music and iPlayer as well as big screen internet browsing.

I recently decided to swap it out for an Apple TV to compare the capabilities. Actually, I've been pleasantly surprised. The Apple TV is a very small black box and only needs power and an HDMI connection to the television. It then provides menus for music, videos, access to the iTunes library, Netflix video on demand, iCloud, flickr browsing, Youtube, and a few more.

I'd separately discovered that the ethernet connection on the back of the Sky+ HD box can provide Sky+ Anytime without needing Sky broadband, so that has given an ITV catchup player service as well as various Sky catchup services direct from Sky.

The combination of the two means that there's an insane amount of extra films and television series to watch, alongside the normal channels and music.

The gap in all of this is that iPlayer, ITV Player and 4OD are missing, presumably for commercial reasons. This is easily fixed by beaming them to the Apple TV via AirPlay. My iPad is one of the early ones and the Apple small print implied that this wouldn't work.

In practice all three of the iPad player Apps support AirPlay. Simply double click the iPad Home button to set up the routing and beam their television stream direct to the Apple TV.

Now it's all set up I suppose I should watch some television.

can we talk about this?

I'm pleased I managed to see the DV8 production 'Can we talk about this?' which is running at the National Theatre. I've known about DV8 for years - since friend Wendy was in the company.

The current work is an intense and political piece. It discusses the liberal secular support for multiculturalism. It discusses whether the UK establishment confuses acceptance of multiracialism for support of different and sometimes severely oppressive cultural values.

The whole piece uses verbatim transcripts to describe the last 30 or so years of Islam situations in the West and mainly the UK.

There's the Bradford headmaster who criticised multiculturalism in 1985, the Rushdie Satanic Verses, the Danish cartoon, Jeremy Paxman interviewing an extremist, Ann Cryer on forced marriages and many others. DV8 is a physical theatre troupe where the vocalisation now operates on an equal basis to the moves.

It's pretty unremitting as well. Jagged moves accompany the spiked words from Establishment forces, Islamists and Muslims. The words are not new, they've all been said over the last few decades, but the messaging is still strong. Do we allow the envelope of acceptance of others' values to condone hatred, fundamentalism and intolerance?

Part way through the show someone from the audience jumps up and throws something at the stage before storming off. There's a pause in the action, a technician sweeps something from the floor and the show resumes. As a counterpoint it's very strong and has me thinking along some parallels during the next scene. I'm sure its designed that way, and very effective.

There's clearly much research in the way the whole piece is constructed and those who spend time on the topics will be able to take the debate much further than the 80 minutes allowed. It's still a powerful way to approach the topic and register some of the baseline points.

And it does demand to be talked about.

free uk budget analysis

I was going to write about the brilliant challenging show at the National Theatre today, but the combination of the budget and Sailor Jerry rum got the best of me, so it's a Lundun post instead. Actually I half wrote the other post but it can wait for another day. See the show though.

It was the commentary in the freebee Stannit that made me change course. Osborne has waved his red bag and new taxes have appeared. The Evening Standard was fast from the gate and profiled some Londoners. The free newspaper's analytics were a sharp contrast with seeing a show at a theatre often referred to as somewhat left of centre.

First up, the stamp duty change. House worth over £2m? So its 7% stamp duty now. That's another forty grand in tax. Next page - Let's profile a young professional - Caroline - turnover £1.6m p.a. Many of her clients are impacted by the 50% tax band. Now 45%, so every little helps.

I'll skip the rest of that page which then deals with high earners and move to the next one, which describes the more modest turnover families of £300k. They seem worried about petrol prices.

I suppose we all have our problems.

i lose again at the supermarket

I've decided I'm not a very good supermarket shopper. Apart from being magnetically drawn to the impulse buy bins, especially when they are bright orange, I don't seem to ever get the 'You've won' coupons at the end of the shop.

During the week I'll use a local top-up store but then at the weekend it'll be one of the bigger stores for bulkier items.

If I go to the big store I usually get a couple of extra tokens. One says 'get money off by shopping online' and the other one tells me if I'm a winner or a loser that particular week.

A winner would be if I'd some how managed to save money compared with buying the same brands elsewhere. I think my best 'win' has been about 72p, which on a shop of say £100 would be about 0.7%.

Most times though, the coupon says something that amounts to,"You didn't do very well this time; we managed to charge you more than other shops in the area. Use the coupon next time to save money."

It took me several goes to even realise that the coupons could be redeemed. And even longer to notice that they only had a two week life span. The first £10 voucher* therefore was already invalid. The next couple of circa £2 vouchers got lost. Today its another £2.52.

I'm sure the marketing department have determined this is good practice, to somehow instil loyalty. I can't help thinking that they've just issued me with a note saying they've overcharged me. My picture of a £10 note is a replica of the already replaced Charles Dickens edition. It's more Darwinian now.

are grouting colours named after eyeshadows?

A few days on and the bathroom project is making some progress. There's been plenty of ripping out at the start and another good skipsworth of junk on the front drive. I've designated next Tuesday to get it removed.

Meantime I'm wondering about the pipes that will need to take an excursion through the back of one of our wardrobes. I've always wondered what that red tap did that's in the cupboard.

For the moment the barely remaining space in the garage is taken up with a new bath and a rather large quantity of plasterboard and tiles. Ooops, and a wrong shaped shower head. Its supposed to be round its turned up square.

Then there's still some important decisions to make about whether the grouting should be antracita, manhattan or gris. It all sounds very eyeshadow to me.