First Anniversary

I have just noticed that the blog turns one year old today!

The blog platform is supplied by google and when I started it, I was asked whether or not I wanted to earn money from the blog. Naturally my answer was a resounding "yes!" and while I was a little annoyed to realise that this would mean the little advertisements you see on the right of the screen would appear, it was tantalising to imagine the great rivers of money that would soon flow my way.

I soon discovered that the magic of google meant that every time someone visited, I would get paid a small fraction of a cent. In the event that someone clicked on one of the advertising links, I would get an even larger fraction of a cent.

In the absence of the expected rivers of cash, I checked my google stats and they tell me that I have, in the year that I have been posting, had over 1600 page views! Sadly, I have had only 13 advertising clicks and I have I have earned a total of $6.62.

I suppose if I could increase my rate of traffic by a few hundred fold or so, I could probably justify to the chikenz the amount of time I spend on it. Or maybe not. In any case, I need a plan to increase the blog traffic. A cunning plan. A plan so cunning that it would be considered exceptionally cunning by the overwhelming proportion of people who gave some thought to the question of how cunning it was.

Chikenz points therefore to anyone that can come up with a suitably cunning plan...

Whatever gods may be

I am not a religious man.

I would go so far as to say that I am a confirmed atheist. Militant even. But occasionally, spiritually uplifting events cause me to examine my point of view. One of those spiritually uplifting events happened this morning and I want to tell you about it.

I have from time to time been appropriately amused by stories of Jesus appearing on a burnt tortilla or, or a vision of the Blessed Virgin Mary appearing on some grilled cheese. The phenomenon is a well documented one, known as pareidolia. It's basically the human inclination of recognising patterns in random events. The unconquerable soul that is the brain will grasp whatever is available for amusement and, well, amuse itself. It's the same phenomenon that makes us hear the words "Paul is dead" when we play the song backwards. It's the same phenomenon that causes us to believe that the poker machine is about to pay out bigtime because of a certain pattern of small payouts. There's no pattern, it's random.

The willingness to find patterns where there are none is what often makes clouds so amusing. The enjoyment of staring at clouds and finding shapes is so widespread that it has even been featured in a peanuts cartoon. Charlie Brown, Lucy and Schroeder are all staring at the sky and Charlie Brown observes that the clouds often have interesting shapes. "Yes," says Schroeder, "Over to the right, I can see an almost perfect representation of the south-west coast of Peru. What can you see Charlie Brown?"

"Well I was going to say I can see a horsey, but I think I won't bother now." says Charlie Brown.

But once again I have been distracted. I was telling you about the spiritually uplifting experience that I had this morning.

This morning I woke up at about 4am. This was largely because I had gone to bed rather early the night before. My weekend had consisted of two rather heavy bouts of drinking. The first on Friday evening with work colleagues and the second on Saturday afternoon to celebrate the 50th birthday of an old friend. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, I was rather worse for wear and retired for the evening by about 7:30pm. Shortly afterward I was sleeping blissfully and hence you find me, at 4am, staring at the curtains that cover the doors opposite my bed.

It was at this time that I was reminded of the phenomenon of pareidolia, for after a minute or two of staring at the curtain, my brain managed to conjure a face to stare back at me. It was clearly a female face, although it didn't appear to be the Blessed Virgin Mary (or BVM as she is often called) for it was a rather full-lipped female face with eyes that featured the epicanthal fold characteristic of most people of asian descent. It was remarkably detailed, but I should warn before we go on that this was not the spiritually uplifting experience that I spoke of earlier. I'm getting to that.

My initial reaction was one of a sort of detached, intellectual amusement along with a certain measure of relief that the boredom had been slightly alleviated. I have read about and even experienced the phenomenon many times and I never fail to be amused by the tricks that my own brain can play.

Eventually I became sufficiently bored that I turned on the radio where I found the BBC world news was reporting on a police raid that had been conducted in Belgium. My recent thought of the Blessed Virgin Mary notwithstanding, I was more than a little pleased to learn that the raid had been conducted on the Catholic Church.

The pope, apparently is outraged. I struggle to understand how he can manage this because the Belgian Catholic Church appears to be staffed by the most notorious collection of kiddy-fiddlers yet uncovered. One of the more monstrous of these rock-spiders, one Roger Vangheluwe, has admitted to abusing young boys even after being ordained as a bishop! But apparently the pope, that guardian of moral decency, had managed to get himself worked into such a state that he had one of his flunkies call in the Belgian Ambassador and hand him "a formal protest note."

As thrilling as this news was, it was not the source of the spiritually uplifting experience that I spoke of earlier. That came just a few minutes later.

BBC reports are generally introduced by an announcer giving the name of the reporter and the topic, then at the end of the report, the same BBC announcer will solemnly sign off with the name of the reporter and the location of the report. So we get an introduction that might say "Ingrid Feldman reports on the recent death of parrots in Norway" followed by a signing off that will simply be "Ingrid Feldman in Norway"

In the case of the report on the raid of the bishops, I didn't hear the opening announcement. While that was being made, I was staring at a mysterious face in my curtains. I did hear the closing announcement and it was this that as the source of my spiritually uplifting experience. I don't suppose it can be held out as proof of and gods, but if we posit their existence, then it is proof that whatever gods may be, they certainly have a sense of humour. The sign off was;

"David Willie, Belgium"

Chikenz points today will be obvious if you can spot them.

Australia Post

I moved a month ago. Or thereabouts.

When we moved, we redirected our mail to our new address. Good thinking eh?

Shortly afterward I decided that I would, in fact, get a post office box rather than simply using my home address. My new home is in the city and I wanted to be sure that my mail is safe.

So I went to the Post Office and arranged a PO box and arranged for all my mail to be redirected there. I explained that there was already one mail redirection in place, but that I actually wanted all my mail to go to my new PO box. I was told not to worry because all the mail will be redirected anyway. Mail that was sent to my old address would be redirected to my new address and from there it would be redirected to the PO box.

"It doesn't really matter" said the helpful man at the Post Office, "because it's all being done from this Post Office anyway."

Two weeks later the complete absence of any redirected mail caused me some concern, so I visited the Post Office again with my copy of the redirection forms in hand.

"We can't help you here" said a different, slightly less helpful man. "You'll have to call the redirection centre."
"But you do the redirection here" I protested.
"It's all managed from the redirection centre. You'll have to call them. The number's on the form there."

So I called the number on the form. A recorded voice told me to press one for a personal castration kit, press 2 for a backyard lobotomy kit or press 3 for anything else. I pressed three. Another recorded voice asked me to press 1 for business services (what are they?) or face west for international services or press 3 for everything else. I pressed 3. Another recorded voice gave me a long speech about how careful everybody at Australia Post is about my privacy and that they might just record my conversation so they can prove it to me later.

A click and a whirr and then another recorded voice told me that everybody was frightfully busy now and I should either call back later, go check their website or prepare for a long wait.

I waited.

Some time later another voice, this one allegedly belonging to an actual person, claimed to be 'Amanda' and implied that she could help me. I explained the circumstances. She said
"Well you'll have to call the redirection centre."
"This is the redirection centre" I protested.
"Well this is customer service. You want complaints. I'll put you through"
"When I went went to the Post Office they told me to call this number."
Amanda sighed heavily and quietly said "Unbelievable." Then there was another click and another whirr and I was once again confronted with a recorded voice asking me to press 1 to invade Poland, press 2 for a 40,000km service or press 3 for everything else.

I'll spare you the details, but I went through various menus, recorded messages about my privacy, recorded messages about how busy everyone is and recorded messages telling me to go away and check their website. Then the phone was answered.

"Hello, this is Amanda, how may I help you" said Amanda.

I am absolutely serious.

"Didn't I just speak to you?" I asked.

There was a pause. A silent one. A pause full of expectation and thought. Then there was another pause.

"No." said Amanda.

"Well it sounded like you." I said and then explained my problems with mail redirection. Somewhat tersely.

Amanda made little grunting noises that sounded suspiciously like someone pretending to be interested and said "just a sec." Then she put me on hold. While I was on hold, yet another recorded voice told me how important I was and how desperate everyone associated with Australian Post was to please me. This deep, smooth voice gave me the impression that the entire organisation was standing by expectantly, desperately hoping that I would be content with their services.

After a minute or two Amanda came back to the phone. She seemed less concerned with my level of satisfaction that the deep, smooth voice had seemed. She asked me what my reference number was.

"I don't have a reference number, but I have a customer number on this form." I said
"No, not the customer number, the reference number." said Amanda.
"I don't have a reference number." I said again.
"Well you should have got one when you first made the complaint." said Amanda
"This is the first time I made the complaint" I said
"Just a sec." said Amanda and put me on hold again.

Two or three minutes later Amanda came back and said "So what's your complaint?"
"Well I'm not getting any redirected mail" I said.
"Maybe there isn't any." said Amanda.
"There is. I know there is." I said
"Well maybe there's not. " said Amanda
"I sent a letter to myself at the old address to make sure the redirection was working." I said. This was a lie, but on the spur of the moment, I considered it a pretty good one.
"Just a sec." said Amanda and put me on hold again.

Amanda came back and asked for the various redirection addresses.
"I'll report the problem and have someone look into it." said Amanda, "You'll need to make sure you quote the reference number I gave you if you call us back."
"You didn't give me a reference number." I said
"Just a sec." said Amanda

Eventually I got my reference number and a week later, in the absence of any redirected mail, I struck upon a cunning plan. I sent the chikenz to deal with them.

The chikenz went through a process similar to the one that I had gone through with the fundamental difference that by the end of the chikenz's discussions, it had become quite clear that everything was my fault and that I should sort it out or face the consequences. The precise nature of the consequences was not clear to me, but consequences are never nice. They are to be avoided.

Then yesterday, there was still no redirected mail. We have had the PO box for over a month and there has never been any redirected mail. I called Australia Post again.

I do not expect you to believe me, but I assure you that it's true when I say that after a series of voice menus, recorded messages and admonishments to go away and check their website a voice answered the phone and said;

"Hello, this is Amanda, how may I help you"

This time I didn't even ask. I simply assumed that everyone working for Australia Post is called 'Amanda'. Even the blokes.

I'll spare you the minutiae, but suffice to say that Amanda went through her usual routine of asking for my reference number, telling me "just a sec",  putting me on hold so that I could listen to recorded messages about how important I was and sighing heavily.

After a while, she broke the routine and asked;

"Why have you redirected your mail to box 149?"
"I haven't," I said, "I've redirected it to 419."
"No you haven't, I can see here that it's been redirected to 149. That's not your box number."
"No, it's not. But I didn't redirect it there..."
"Well I can see it here in front of me. You've redirected it to 149." interrupted Amanda. "I'll have to change it all now."

The tone of Amanda's voice made it clear that the enormous difficulties that she already faced had been considerably exacerbated by my inconsiderate and clearly deliberate mistake.

"Amanda," I said, "I have the form here in front of me. It clearly says box 419."
"Just a sec." said Amanda.

Eventually Amanda returned and, rather more chirpily than before, told me that she had fixed everything and that all my old mail was being delivered to my PO box at this very minute.

"Thank you." I said.
"Not to worry," said Amanda cheerfully, "these things happen!"

I hung up and later that day collected over a months worth of redirected mail from my PO box, which, for reasons that probably deserve a separate post entirely, included six identical Dick Smith catalogues. My problem though was that Amanda was still annoying me. She clearly absolved herself and her wretched organisation from any blame with her chipper little "these things happen!" but as it was the end of the conversation there was little I could say. I should have had a comeback. A real zinger that made it plain that not only was this in fact her fault, not mine, but that she was a stupid bint as well.

I thought about this for a while, wondering what comeback would have been suitable? What could I have said that would convey the message? The moment had passed, but still it would be nice to have something on standby for next time. Eventually I realised. What I should have said was;

"Not only is this in fact your fault, not mine, but you are a stupid bint as well."

Best to keep things simple.

A couple

A couple, strictly speaking, has the meaning two. However the English language being what it is, I contend that, in casual usage, "a couple" can be used to mean 3 or 4. Certain persons disagree. I would value your input on this matter.

Resuming regular transmission

Now that the housewarming guests have stopped looking at the blog to see whether or not they get a mention, I suppose I can resume regular transmissions. The regulars are probably a bit disappointed at how polite and social I've been over the last few blogs, but there you go. At least I managed to break a few page-impression records and some of the housewarming guests even clicked on advertising links.

Anyway, I'll get back to you all later.

The Housewarming

The Housewarming has been run and done and there are some photos below.

Many thanks to everyone that came along and thank you for your kind gifts.

Couple of people deserve special thanks. On the third row down of the photos (just under the photo of the St Hugo's) is Sophie, who was the number one assistant hostess for the day and did a sterling job. Just under her, in the middle of Akino and I is Orie, who cooked all the Japanese style finger food (and the cheesecake) that appear to have been a great success.

Richard, who did all the cooking is there too. If you didn't figure it out, Richard is the one that crashed a helicopter into a swimming pool. Thank you Richard! and second from the bottom is Andrew Brown sharing his three witty stories.

Right now I am nursing a mild hangover and wondering what I am going to do with quite an astonishing amount of leftover steaks and bread rolls, so I apologise if this post is not up to the usual standard.

Hope everyone had a good time and that you can all come back in a few years time for the renovation-completion party!

Housewarming Photos

My first follower!

Exciting news.

I have my first follower! Fame and fortune awaits and very soon I will have thousands of followers and Hollywood producers will be making movies about me.

Unfortunately my first follower appears to be "me me" which sounds suspiciously like a female Chinese swimmer. This may mean that I will shortly be inundated with spam emails offering discounted human growth hormone, but that's a small price to pay.

You too can be a follower. There's a link about halfway down on the right hand side of the page. Sign up and I'll make sure you get a mention in the movie.

Photos from the MS Run...

Chikenz Race

As many of you may recall, the chikenz next big race is on this Sunday. I will be leading the support crew for the day and the forecast is for an incredibly pissed off support crew by the end of the day.

In the event that there is a small break in the rain, I might decide to take a couple of photos, which I will then post here. Stay tuned.

Another very big chikenz-thanks to everyone who has donated so far. The chikenz is very excited at all the donations that she has received but a bit perplexed to discover that someone apart from me reads this blog. "Why would they read it? It's mostly just rubbish."

Last chance to make a donation!