Hmmm. Down a bit today.
Your photographic treat for Friday is another sign where a little dose of spellchecking might have been a good idea:
There seems to be a pattern here – this is at the same place as the chalk board I I mocked recently.
Hmmm. Down a bit today.
Your photographic treat for Friday is another sign where a little dose of spellchecking might have been a good idea:
There seems to be a pattern here – this is at the same place as the chalk board I I mocked recently.
This is pure genius. Thanks to the indispensable Look at This for this one:
Younger (or older non-Brit) readers might like to know that in the distant past, when I was a lad[1] and so on, the few TV channels that we had did not run 24 hours a day, shocking as that may sound, and actually closed down for the night. Closedown time used to be quite early by current standards – 11pm or even earlier, except at weekends where showings of old horror movies might drag things on to midnight or even later.
Originally, they used to close down completely, leaving a white dot to burn itself into your CRT TV while playing a high pitched beeeeeeeep to try and alert viewers who’d fallen asleep in front of Play for Today or whatever it was. But in later years, they ran looped pages from the Teletext service. Teletext is what people used to turn to for breaking news and cheap holidays in those distant days BEFORE THE INTERNET. It was all a bit slow and a bit crap (rather like the internet in dial-up days), but it was good for quick news updates.
And that’s a lot of words to explain the quite sublime joke in the video. If you’re as old as me, you won’t have needed to read any of this, and probably didn’t..
I like magazines. OK, I’ll probably like them better when they work out a digital format that works with a subscription model that’s affordable for the reader and sustainable for the publisher[1], but for now, I’m happy enough to buy chunks of paper. Now when I get into something, I tend to get loads of magazines on the subject for a while, then gradually reduce them to a core of actually useful, interesting or entertaining ones.
Take photography, for instance. Before I got my Canon 30D, I bought piles of camera magazines, and subscribed to a few for a year or two. But over time, it became apparent that there was an awful lot of repetition. The same old Photoshop tutorials kept coming around, and just how many reviews of things you’re unlikely to buy do you really need? I still get the quite remarkably useful weekly Amateur Photographer for the news, detailed reviews of new toys and other nice stuff, but the rest have ceased to be really useful to me.
One magazine that I’d never quite got round to was The British Journal of Photography. This was a weekly magazine dating back to 1854, and aimed at the professional photographer. Somehow, it never looked that appealing, so I hadn’t got round to buying a copy. Until now.
The publishers have decided to take a bold step. Given that news is available on the internet, and updated much faster than any print magazine can even dream of, they reasoned that there’s not really a necessity to publish weekly. And looking at the market, they saw a honking great gap: there was no magazine showing off quality photography in high quality reproduction, no magazine that’s simply good to look at.
And so, from this month, the BJP is a monthly, printed on heavy paper, featuring lots of high quality professional photography, in depth interviews with photographers (and not the usual “I use a Canon/Nikon Dxxx and a wotsit lens” – we’re talking proper interviews). I picked up the first monthly copy in WH Smith out of curiosity, and it took me a few seconds to realise that I had to buy it.
It’s one of the best magazines I’ve ever seen – lots of great pictures to appreciate, lots to read, some good reviews of cameras, and in general a Good Thing. I’ve subscribed already.
Details of the magazine, and more stuff to read on the BJP website and the inevitable (but interesting) 1854 blog.
[1] Seriously – if I could get the magazines that I currently read once and recycle in a digital format for much the same price as I pay now, with the added point that I’d like unrestricted access to previous issues so long as I keep paying the subscription, then I would happily pay a moderately large chunk of actual money for an iPad[2] or similar.
[2] Potentially a lovely toy, but I’ll want some content to justify having one
While I was out on my lunch break yesterday, I remembered that there was something I needed to see at Newcastle’s Laing Art Gallery. Beatles to Bowie is an excellent exhibition of photographs of 1960s popular music acts – all the usual suspects such as the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Who and Dusty Springfield are there, together with loads of images of people who are almost forgotten now, but were popular in their time.
It’s proving to be a popular exhibit – I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people in the Laing at lunchtime. Most of them looked like they were in their teens or early twenties when the pictures were taken, and I overheard a few people reminiscing about some of the musicians on show, which added a certain something to the experience.
If you’re at all interested in the 60s, in portrait photography in general, or you’d like to see some rather large David Bailey pictures of the Beatles, you need to see this. Admission is free, and it’s on at the Laing Art Gallery until 18 April 2010. If you go, do yourself a favour and allow plenty of time to enjoy the pictures. While you’re there, take a look at the rest of the gallery – there’s a lot there.
When I got back to the office after lunch, there was a mysterious box waiting for me:
I was slightly confused, as I couldn’t think of anything I was expecting that would be in a box that size. So imagine my surprise when the box was opened to reveal a load of scrunched up brown paper and this:
That’s a battery for my work mobile phone, which our suppliers had apparently had a bit of trouble getting hold of. I imagine the problem was that they were trying to find a bigger box to put it in, and eventually settled for one that was merely silly rather than the totally insane they were hoping for. I mean, really, guys. Have you never heard of padded envelopes?
A rare attempt for the time at a real bit of science fiction. Not a terribly good attempt, perhaps, but it deserves full credit for trying. The TARDIS lands on the usual kind semi-deserted planet, where the first sign of oddness is that when they walk across sand, they leave no footprints. The next sign is that the guards in what turns out to be a museum apparently can’t see them. But the really odd thing is when they get into the museum and find among the exhibits not just a Dalek, but themselves. Somehow they can tell that these aren’t waxworks, or simulacra of some more technologically advanced nature, but actually them.
It appears that a “time track” has been jumped, and the travellers are out of sync with the planet. Eventually, they catch up and the fun can really start. The planet is Xeros, which the Moroks have turned into a museum of their military victories. The native Xerons have mostly been sent off as slave labourers, leaving just a few young people behind to plot revolution.
And that’s were it goes a bit wrong. The Moroks are a bit rubbish as conquerors, the Xerons, despite some interesting eyebrows, don’t really do that much, and it’s a bit of a mess really. But it does lead to the Doctor taking a Time-Space Visualiser from the museum, which is how he and his friends learn that the Daleks, being a bit annoyed about being stopped in The Dalek Invasion of Earth have decided to track the Doctor down and kill him. But that’s another story.
Extras are relatively slight on this one:
This is a more substantial six-parter, and involves some high-class silliness, which is something I’m generally fond of, so I have to say I enjoyed watching this rather more than the previous disc. Anyway, the plot involves the Doctor and his friends being chased through time and space by a bunch of Daleks in their own time machine. At each step the Daleks get closer…
It all starts on the desert planet Aridius[1], where the travellers have trouble with some slightly dodgy monsters before moving on to the Empire State Building, where a very excitable tourist[2] is quite impressed by the TARDIS. He’s even more impressed with the Daleks, who for some reason don’t take the time to exterminate him for being annoying. Another stop is on a sailing ship, where the appearance of the Daleks frightens the crew so much that they all jump overboard, and yes of course it was the Mary Celeste.
And finally, they end up on the planet Mechanus, where after some trouble with some energetic mushrooms, they meet the Mechanoids. Or possibly the Mechonoids, depending on which part of the script you believe. These turn out to be robots sent from Earth to prepare the planet for colonisation, but as there were some delays, they upgraded themselves into something that doesn’t really want to welcome a load of icky humans. They’ve been keeping a prisoner for a couple of years. Steven Taylor[4], the survivor of a crashed ship, is quite keen on leaving, but not without his cuddly toy.[3]
The Daleks catch up, and find that despite being ever-so-slightly bonkers, homicidal and metallic, they don’t get on at all well with the Mechanoids (or indeed Mechonoids) and they proceed to wipe each other out. While that’s going on, the Doctor and his friends escape. After some dithering, the Doctor agrees to help Ian and Barbara use the controllable Dalek time machine to return to Earth in 1965, leaving just Vicki to accompany him. Well, as far as can be seen on screen, anyway. In the next story, it turns out that he stowed away in the TARDIS.
Anyway, it’s a good fun story, and I’ve deliberately omitted lots of details to make it more interesting for anyone who hasn’t seen it yet. And this one comes with lots of quality extras:
So, there you have it – I have a suspicion that the two stories were issued together because a release of The Space Museum on its own might have been a bit naff. But as a set which cost less than two single releases, it’s not so bad.
[1] There’s a lot of suitably named planets in this era of the show…
[2] Played by one Peter Purves, more of whom later
[3] I’m the same about my Tiggers
[4] Also played by Peter Purves, who went on to present Blue Peter for a decade or so
[5] No Duracell or Energiser in those days. Leak-prone low capacity ones were all you could have
[6] Which generally look like they were translated from Klingon into English via Japanese and Linear B
I was on my way to do some minor shopping at lunchtime when I spotted that one of the benches near Grey’s Monument appeared to be wearing a wooly jumper:
It looked like actual knitting, and appeared to be wrapped all the way around. On closer examination, the label turned out not to be the name of some particularly eccentric fashion designer, but a plug for the forthcoming Newcastle Science Festival, which starts in a few days.
And on a more general examination, it appears that it might be meant to be a representation of a pond, complete with duck. Or maybe it’s a bath with a woollen rubber duck[1].
I’m not quite sure about the significance of this, and how it relates to the Science Festival, but I like it. It’s certainly more appealing than last week’s paint covered [cref not-that-urbanproof-then cars].
[1] If you see what I mean