Flashback

An Itchy Trigger Finger

Time had slowed to the point where a bird flying nearby seemed suspended in mid air and the sound of the nearby traffic became a low pitched drone. Those few seconds are etched in my minds eye in a way that is so vivid I can almost move the scene around in bullet time – a technique which would become a firm favorite of movie directors some fifteen years later in depicting action scenes and stand-off’s not dissimilar to this one.

My thoughts, although racing, were amazingly clear at the time. I can still hear my heart beat quicken as I made the decision and reached the point of no return – if you’re going to pull a gun on someone you cant exactly change your mind and put it back again. Even after that point, amid the panic and the shouting, even with the instant realization that I’d done the wrong thing, my thoughts were coherent.

“Holey shit was this a mistake.” I said to myself as the two boys, both three years older than myself, backed away holding up their hands. Their faces, I’ll never forget, were masks of disbelief and surprize, with a hint of shock thrown in at how the tables had turned so quickly.

Heck, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t enjoyed the short power trip. Only moments before these two hard men had pounced on my younger friend and I – told us that we were trespassing and that we had to follow them to the office where they would call the police. We had been playing on an abandoned barge which was rusting away to nothing on the boundaries of a yard belonging to a small boat building and maintaining firm. The 16 or 17 year old boys claimed their father owned the boat building yard and that we were in serious trouble for being on the barge.

I suggested we leave – that we would go and not ever come near the barge again. The two boys had smirked and said “No – you’re in deep shit, you’re coming with us.” with the kind of grin that let us know they were savoring every moment of our panic.

Continue Reading
Journal

Doing it on grass

At the weekend there, Fliss and I played tennis at our (very) local sports club. I’m an old hand, as it were, at tennis – up until losing my raquet by leaving it in my room at university, I played quite regularly, using the practice wall at my club if there was no one to play with. Fliss on the other hand has hardly played the game in her life, so our contrasting techniques are plain to see. (i.e. she’s more crap than I am!)

A year ago in July we managed to play down in London on the hottest day of the year – not a comfortable experience and not a day that lent itself to chasing after fuzzy yellow balls, either. Coincidentally, Saturday just gone was one of the hottest days we’ve experienced in this neck of the woods, so it seemed kind of ironic that we’d be out trying to chase the same fuzzy balls all over again. The end result was that we gave up after half an hour or so – the heat was just unbearable.

So, last night we played again when it was a bit cooler and it was a much more fun experience. It sometimes amazes me how quick a learner Fliss can be – initially she was kind of swatting the ball aimlessly, but after I showed her the mechanics of how to play a controlled stroke she was able to hit the ball quite consistantly. (And I’m not that great a teacher either!)

I was pretty pleased for her, as there’s nothing like being crap at something to discourage you from doing it, so hopefully now that she’s gaining a bit of technique we can venture out more often.

I have to add that we were playing on grass too – with all the weird bounces that brings it adds an extra level of difficulty. Hence I have high hopes of us having a decent game on the hard courts when we can be bothered walking the extra forty yards to get to them. :o)

Continue Reading
Journal

The shutdown

I turned the site off today by renaming the content table so that no connection could be established to grab the content. Due to a constant stream of incoming and unwanted shit, it was much easier to get rid of the site and cut off the supply of ammunition than it was to sit there and take it.

It turns out that for the quiet life it’s not always wise to post stuff on your own website. Like this, most probably. If you add to this the efforts of Eoan last week (copying and pasting out of context to make me look like a dick), I’m starting to believe that running my own personal site just brings unnecessary hassle for very little gain. After all, the site only really performs its job when I’m after one, if you catch my drift.

So… I have a couple of choices. Either I keep posting the stuff I’ve been posting for the last four and half years and live with the feedback, or I change my habbits, pull some punches and only post stuff that I think will be widely accepted by those who read it. Neither option seems terribly inviting.

However, I also thought of some additional fallback options. One is to allow people to choose whether they want fluffy bunny wunny content or if they want it warts and all. I could do this with something in the navigation on the right there. Although my take on this is that individuals would choose the non bunny wunny option and then rejoice that they had all the ammunition they required.

Alternatively, I could check visitor IP addresses and filter the content that way. This seems a much safer route to me – the content gets screened and I get to avoid the flaq without having to make a conscious effort.

Sadly after working late, tonight is not the night I’ll be doing the coding for this, but for the sake of avoiding a Dooce.com scenario I’ll happily take the measure as soon as I can.

Continue Reading