Sunday, 19 October 2008

A good use of power

Russia is rolling out an alternative to GPS, the Global Navigation Satellite System, military in origin and now productised for the civilian market.

Lots of the news channels have it today Auntie, CNN, Russia Today all with videos as Putin's labrador Koni is given one to wear. In September Putin's labrador's Nephew, Sheldon had one too, this only on Russia Today.

And I can understand why. I had a labrador with stealth capabilities. He periodically reminded me I was still capable of the odd sprint. After a comment about lying down in puddles, Putin replied that his dog wasn't a piglet and didn't behave in such ways.

Mine was a thinking playful being, who would catch my Father's eye, stare at him and then pick up his ball and look at the pond. Just as my Father started to shout NOOOOOOOOO, the Stealth Labrador would casually trot just fast enough to evade him and drop the ball in.

Then generously, in a great act of canine kindness he would jump in, retrieve it, as he was born to do . A knowing look would pass between them (more than a note of triumph in the dog's face) as the ball was returned to my Father

When I am lucky enough to have been claimed by my next retriever, I shall be seeking a similar tracking device.

Saturday, 18 October 2008

At least 4 journeys in 2 hours

This afternoon, caught sight of War Games on tv. Decided to stop what I was doing and watch it again.


The Ferris Bueller actor is the star but it's a few years earlier. Similar "butter wouldnt melt" strategy he uses, reminds me of an old friend's brother. Make txt connection, not caught up with her properly for ages. We both suffered (not really) from brothers who apparently could raise their eyes to their Mother and all was forgiven. HA! Good strategy. Another watches.

It is a fun and superb film, loved it the first time, now enjoy it, retrospectively and in the moment simultaneously. Emotional time travel. Remembering how I felt the first time I saw it (before I had been anywhere near a computer) and now when I work in the software industry, when in relative age -though sadly not in intellect - at either point of the journey I could associate with either Falken and the naughty good boy.

Fascinating experience. The last line is still, for me, one of the best film lines of all time.

Strange Game
The only winning move is not to play.

How about a nice game of chess?

Wednesday, 15 October 2008

Commandant Cat

Feeding them this morning, the small one noticed I had opened the last tin. The Last TIN

She is small but she has very round eyes that dilate fully to complete blackness. If she had a brow she would be capable of raising it beyond her ears when perturbed about something. Very effective.

She also "talks" constantly. Some have said she runs around the house shrieking "Milk! Milk" ( I rarely give them any - but guests might not know that -so she tries her command) I think more often than not it sounds like " Now! Now!" It's loud too.

Today the Last TIN was clearly not what she wanted to see. The heavy enormous bag of biscuits was no source of consolation at all. She wanted to know that there would be more wet food after today.

So with her shrieks ringing in my ear I left the house knowing I had just 3 things to remember;
Milk (for me), Toilet rolls (for all bipeds) but most importantly, Wet cat Food. Remember Milk, Toilet rolls and Wet Cat Food.

Arrive at work, into the Vortex..... several hours elapse

Leave work for return journey, full moon, tonight I saw a fox and an owl on the way home, and noticed the fields and valleys luminous, swathed in the moonlight. Even in the dark, in the special black and white, somehow the change of leaf colour is apparent, the mood of the countryside busy shedding, saying goodbye, preparing.

Radio 4 accompanies me til I get bored, Classic FM had plain song, the plainest sort of plain song- switched to cd (old technology) shock horror, Billy Joel.! Sing about one thing, think about another 3 or 4. Plan a trip, wonder about horse. Roads beautiful to swoop along, night driving so cooling and altered than the day. The long warning of oncoming traffic silently heralded by the seeking glow, hugging the tarmac, slinking round hedges.

Pass through small market town, find myself walking into supermarket and then from nowhere the mantra begins. Milk, toilet roll and Wet Cat FOOD. Would like to think that the order is dictated by the geography of the shop, but recognise that as the mantra is repeated in my mind, there is a rise in volume and the accent is most definitely on the last two slow syllables.

Compelled, I respond to the instruction of the morning, dormant all day and now commanding me.