Footprints in the Sands of the Blogosphere

I do read other people’s blogs and occasionally, I even remember to comment (although I have been known to click the submit key and then close the computer down without ever realising).

Very occasionally, I get carried away when I comment. There are a number of people who know this, most of them vowing never to have anything to do with me ever again.

This morning, not only did I get carried away, I also felt the result was worthy of saving in my own blog.

I happened to visit the Richard Madeley Appreciation Society and read his account of his adventures while filming his wildlife documentary series you will be able to see on BBC Prime Time in the autumn.

He inspired me. For my comment, read on……

I'm incredibly jealous - of the project not of your encounter with the hotel keeper (see Note 1).

Some years ago I decided to take time out to travel the world and decided to hitch hike to Margate. I got picked up by a very friendly Hungarian lorry driver (see Note 3). He told me fantastic tales of the great ferret polo matches of his youth when whole villages used hoes to try and propel a pumpkin into the opposing teams well while mounted on a ferret.

I immediately vowed that I would try my luck as a semi-professional ferret polo player. Sadly, the money ran out just outside Lille (see Note 4) and I was forced to abandon my dream and ended up running guided tours in an abattoir until I could earn my fare home.

Note 1: Footnotes in comments on other people's blogs? Oh my god, perhaps Patrick is right and I am catching a dose of the Danielewskis. (see Note 2)

Note 2: Which should have been Note 1. I suspect there is more to this encounter than you are letting on such is the penchant for bathroom couplings in Eastern Europe and the communist legacy of the lack of shower facilities.

Note 3 : Who had a terrible sense of direction and we ended up sharing the last bed in a very peculiar hotel just outside Bucharest.

Note 4: As I said, the lorry driver, who by now had appointed himself as my trainer had a very poor sense of direction. (see Note 5)

Note 5: He was also very fickle. He abandoned me in Lille to take up with a young French boy who he said he would make star, however with a name like Eric Cantona, I doubt he had a hope.

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

Well, my pertinacious yeomen, my little experiment yesterday with the video proved less than perfect. It seems that the sound quality on the video was not of professional quality.

Stung by the comments, I have spent the morning tinkering with the computer. I have upgraded my display drivers (see Note 1), downloaded the latest versions of the webcam software and generally tinkered and tweaked since I first surfaced from my pit.

So far, success has been found to be, errr... limited. I can make the microphone pick up my dulcet tones better, but only if I turn all the settings up to full. To be honest, I was starting to get a little frustrated with the lack of progress, something that just shouldn’t happen today

Deciding that there must be something better to do on an easy Sunday morning and struggling for a topic to write about, I went  out into the street and took a couple of pictures of flowers in the sunshine.

Strange how just walking away from a problem frees up the brain. By this, I don’t mean that I have solved my little microphone issue, just that in finding that little link up there and listening to it has got me to unwind a touch and start to follow a few links on You Tube.  Yes, I know, I am really cheating here, just sitting here, slowly, softly getting so laid back and relaxed, typing a few words and throwing in a link to another music video.

Had I continued, I would have been so laid back I was in danger of grazing the back of my head and you would have a music list that would last you until Wednesday, but that last one set up an echo.  Try as I might, there was a troublesome synapse that just wasn’t prepared to be a wimp. It was becoming an albatross around my neck, it was determined to stop me dreaming (see Note 2).

All I wanted was a touch of entertainment and here was a troublesome synapse holding out to keep me in a spin (See Note 3). It was a constant fight for me as the rogue thought kept blinding me to my quest.

In the end I knew it was a lost cause. The trap was tripped. The rogue synapse was determined to dictate the words from my mouth.

I’m not going to admit total defeat though. I’ll not spend time looking for a way to make a long and complicated ‘connections’ blog.

You see, there are times when you wonder just what on earth our government is playing at. They are now trying to make us all ‘healthy’. They are worried that we are drinking too much, so they want to make alcohol more expensive. A strange measure that seems to suggest that the drinking of alcohol is only a problem for the poor as it is they that will find pay the greatest proportion of their income to enjoy a drink while those who manufacture the demon drink will benefit from the higher prices. Odd.

There is also a body of opinion out there who want to tax chocolate in order that we will all forgo that particular pleasure and buy broccoli instead. Mind you, this could be just a ploy to stop the new film of Marianne Faithfull’s life story.

Note 1 : Yes, I realise that the display drivers have nothing to do with the microphone, but I noticed that on some occasions, when I was using the webcam the screen seemed to start to lose the odd pixel and look grainy.

Note 2 : It was a toss up between that one and this one. I hope I made the right choice.

Note 3 : You know what, just having one from these guys is not enough, you’ve made me so very happy.