Snow place like London
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
I was walking to work when I first noticed it: I had no idea who he was, but he was scraping snow off a pub bench and launched it over a van at his two colleagues who were out of his eyeline. He grinned at me as he prepared the snowy missile; we both knew what was coming.
Work carried on in a similar vein. Only three of my PC Pro cohorts made it to the office - Jon apparently described me as a 'prat' for even trying to get there - so not much productive work actually got done. I only got there at 11:15, and by 12:15 we were on the smoking balcony - which had chairs, tables and about 15 inches of pure powder - for an almight snowball fight. It's not every day that you get to smack your boss in the face with a slab of snow, after all. This was followed by a 2-hour pub lunch - with snowballs being thrown to and from the venue - and then a bit more work. We got the email to leave at around 4pm to ensure that everyone could get a train home before they were all cancelled.
So we went back to the pub.
On the way home I saw more people enjoying the snow, and on the train in the morning I saw dozens sledging in a country park I pass on the way in. It was fantastic.
The only black mark surrounding this precipitious blip has been the reaction of much of the media and public transport. By Monday morning, the BBC had a logo for the 'Big Freeze' and The Guardian's website had 'live' coverage of some snow and ice. Ludicrous, over the top and a bit corny. My colleague Barry mentioned on Facebook that he wasn't impressed as to how his license fee was spent sending plenty of BBC reporters out to tell people that it had snowed - and I'm inclined to agree.
I also appreciate that running public transport services in bad weather must be horrendous. People cite the fact that in far harsher areas the trains and buses run on time nevertheless, but those regions are better prepared for bad weather.
Still, that's not really much of an excuse for the carnage that's been going on. I didn't know what train to get Monday morning as we weren't given much information, so I just hopped on the first one that arrived. No problem. The problem occured when my train decided to sit 5 minutes outside Paddington for three-quarters of an hour. Our driver came over the tannoy and said that we were sitting in a queue - although five or six trains left Paddington, passing us. Must have been a hell of a queue.
When I finally disembarked from the train, the London Underground provided another crushing blow of disappointment. Out of the eleven lines that displayed service information, eight were either experiencing severe difficulties or were closed completely. Sections that are above ground I can understand. However, the name gives it away: much of the London Underground is subterraenean. Snow doesn't really permeate that far. I'm sure that the staff were merely showing solidarity with their overground workers and shutting lines for the hell of it.
The evening journey wasn't much better, either. Dozens of trains cancelled or delayed - so I just got on a train to Reading and made my way home that way. I did the same this evening, although no services were leaving Reading to head towards Paddington because of a signal failure in Swindow. About forty miles to the west. If anyone could enlighten me as to why this stops trains leaving Reading, I'll be delighted to hear it.
Transport issues aside, though, snow rocks. The day at 'work' was ludicrously enjoyable and I just love snow anyway. I don't want to end on a bad note by complaining about the transport, so I won't. I'll just say that watching a snowball arc down onto Tim's head and disintegrate all over him was very, very satisfying!
British public transport: WTF?
Sunday, 25 January 2009
It begun when I got a train from Twyford into Paddington. I left at 9:06 and was due on a train from St. Pancras at 10:25. Normally, no problem - however, when the train sat outside of Paddington for fifteen minutes, with not a word of explaination, I started to worry. I realised that I was going to miss my train when the tube to St. Pancras did exactly the same thing.
I'd missed the train by the time I got to the departures board, but there was another at 10:55. No worry, I thought, I'll get on that one. My ticket was valid for the 10:25, but surely they'd let you board if your previous train had been late. After all, it's not your fault, is it?
As if. I wasn't allowed on the next train with my ticket - even though I'd still got a return to Leicester, and it would have cost the same no matter which train I'd bought a ticket for - so I had to pay £59 for another ticket. It was the cheapest one available - an open return for the next month. That's about the only good thing about this whole episode. The little man with the Napoleon Complex guarding the train said that I would only be allowed on with my original ticket if I had proof from the Station Manager at either Paddington or Reading that my train into London was late enough to make me miss the train. It's funny how they don't publicise that anywhere.
I eventually got to Leicester on time and had a great day, as normal, with Beth.
Coming home should have been less of an issue. Even though the ticket machine had printed my original return ticket with a morning time instead of an evening one, my new return would handle it. Pulling into St. Pancras at 11pm, I had plenty of time for the five tube stops - the last train is always at around 12:30, whether it's a weekday or weekend. I'd travelled on those trains enough times to see that the times never change.
Except that the last train was listed as 11:33, and I had about three minutes to catch it. I ran, and did, although I couldn't get any food - and the train was only stopping at Slough, Reading and Didcot Parkway. Three trains left Paddington after that one, but all three went as far as Ealing Broadway and stopped - so, useless to the large majority of people at Paddington. Normally, the last train stops at every station on the route home. Not tonight,evidently.
I crammed into the train with a group of Germans and a gaggle of drunk people and got off at Reading. By that time, local services had also stopped, so I couldn't get back to Twyford.
Instead, I caught a Taxi outside the station and paid £13 to get home, which is a fair chunk less than what I usually pay from Twyford.
It's interesting to note that, for all the work that the Government and 'green' campaigners do to persuade people to use public transport, it's always fallible. Yesterday proved to me that it's staffed by do-good jobsworths who won't go as far as to trust people and that, when you need them to be as punctual as they are in other countries, they're liable to be late. And, if they're anything like my tube in the evening, smelling of sick.
Contrast that with the other form of transport I used during the day - the car. Whether it was Beth's, Mum's or a taxi, it never failed to get me where I needed to be as quickly as the law allows. They may be, apparently, killing the planet, but as a form of transport - which the car, train and tube are all, obviously, meant to be - it's by far the best.
It's been a while..!
Sunday, 18 January 2009
Actually, that's a lie. I don't. I've merely been snowed under with work and laziness, whoring myself around various Dennis IT titles and then spending my down-time watching DVD's and playing as many games as I can get my hands. The last few months have seen me encounter a huge variety of new things: on the gaming front, I've been stunned and blown away by Far Cry 2, LittleBigPlanet, several more PSP and PS3 games and, above all, Fallout 3 on the PC. I've got an HD 4870 and I can ramp the settings to their maximum on my new 22in monitor to ensure that it looks sublime and plays even better. Utterly fantastic.
I've also been incredibly engrossed by The Wire and the books of Jonathan Safran Foer and Roberto Bolano, but those are all blog posts for another time. Hopefully time that I'll have, too - the sad demise of Computer Buyer magazine does mean that I'll have a little less freelance work - and I always enjoyed writing for Buyer - but now working for Computer Shopper, Micro Mart and Den of Geek should ensure that I'm busy. It also means that I've worked at every IT title at Dennis except for MacUser, now. Not bad if I do say so myself!
On the day job front, though, PC Pro is as busy and exciting as ever. Stu's recent trip to Las Vegas to cover CES sounded absolutely brilliant - I only hope that I'll get shoved onto a plane for a press trip some time soon, although there are several people in the queue ahead of me, not least the entire news and reviews team. A guy can dream.
A guy can also scan numerous web shopping sites. Something's come up at work that involves me having to buy and build a PC for the princely sum of £250. Doesn't sound too bad, but I have to find a monitor, mouse and keyboard, too, and make it a decent machine. My initial estimates didn't really work out - I was over the magic number barely half-way down my list of components and peripherals. I've scaled back my ambitions, though, and have a few tricks up my sleeve: an Intel Pentium Dual Core E2160 CPU can be found for £40 but overclocked to 3GHz and beyond - it's a Core 2 Duo in disguise. A GeForce 9500GT graphics card is reasonable enough, although I may see if my budget will stretch to a Radeon HD 4650 - it was a fair chunk faster in numerous games benchmarks that I've seen.
Other areas, though, require extreme budget control. I've got a case and PSU coming for around £16, and customer reviews mention that the inside is incredibly sharp and cut one person twice, quite severly. He also mentioned that he had to shave off some metal to make his ATX motherboard fit inside, despite it claiming to be an ATX case. I've found a mouse that costs less than £1, and a keyboard for three. Hopefully this will clear enough room in my budget for a £7 pair of speakers, although I've seen some for £4 should I need to save cash. If I manage to find a couple more bargains, then I could even stretch to Logitech S220 speakers. They're around £11 and have a sub-woofer. The catch is that I can't use eBay or buy second-hand stuff. I'm thinking of heading down Tottenham Court Road in the week and getting my haggle on.
Whatever happens, it should result in some entertaining (I hope!) and informative blog posts on PC Pro's website. Numerous issues have already presented themselves and I haven't even been given the cash or ordered any parts yet: should I forgoe buying an OS and use the Windows 7 beta instead, or go for Ubuntu? Or dual-boot with both? How far should I push my overclocking, and should I extend it to the RAM and GPU?
All I know is that I'll be scouring websites to save pennies in the coming weeks and, hopefully, having plenty of fun doing it. I also intend to blog an awful lot more - over the past weeks I've been clamouring to start again, so perhaps an extended break was all I needed. We'll see, I suppose.
Technorati Tags: computing, journalism, cheap, wire, radeon, geforce, las vegas, ces, pc pro, far cry 2, fallout 3
Well, that was weird.
Sunday, 21 September 2008
I have been posting over the last few months, but my blogs just haven't been appearing. Sometimes the title would appear followed by no text at all.
Which is a bit odd.
Anyway, I think I've gotten rid of the problem but I couldn't salvage any of the afflicted posts. I have another My Favourite Games column that I'll try to post soon, anyway.
Fantastic, Addictive, Brilliant Contraptions...
Thursday, 7 August 2008
As usual with these things, it's remarkably simple: a pink shape needs to get into an end zone, and you're given a limited palette of tools and shapes to make it happen. Build a fantastic contraption - the clue's in the name - and watch as an ingenious physics engine brings your creation to life. If it's successful, the machine will motor toward the finish, clambering over any obstacles in the way. If not, then it'll normally collapse into a catastrophic mess, or a pile of wheels and struts.
It's simple, but fantastic. The levels get progressively more difficult and soon require plenty of lateral thinking to figure out. Highly recommended.
Wind? Pah! Youngsters don't know they're born!
Monday, 21 July 2008
'You've got rain blowing sideways', claimed Vijay Singh.
'It's a matter of hanging in there', said an exasperated Robert Allenby.
It didn't stop there, either. Players tramped off the course - especially after the first two rounds of this years Championship, which were afflicted by worse weather - and bleated into whichever microphone was nearest that the course, the weather, the balls, the crowd and everything else was unfair and that it was unplayable.
They rocked up to a links course by the sea and didn't expect wind?
Morons. The wind is an integral part of the Open, much like the enthusiastic, huge crowds, the ovation given to every player making their way up the 18th, the stuffy Scottish heritage of the event and the even stuffier R&A members lining up to present the Claret Jug at the end of what is, often, a remarkable week.
More...
The best players over the four rounds - I'm including winner Harrington, Poulter, the stunning performance from Greg Norman and a fair few more - were those who adapted to the conditions. They all decided that to succeed at Royal Birkdale required shots that were different to those they normally played, and duly employed them. Bump-and-run shots to get close to the flag, tactical iron play off the tees to avoid trouble dealt from a 350-yard drive, low punch shots that travel 180 yards but duck under the fiercest of the Birkdale breezes.
Notice a trend here? The most effective players over the week were those that took the wind out of play as much as they could and, in a week where howling gales threatened to dispatch balls into the nearest pot bunker, that was the most effective strategy.
Consider the fate of players further down the leaderboard, and those who didn't make the cut: Oliver Wilson, Charles Howell III, Vijay Singh, Simon Dyson, Boo Weekley, Sean O'Hair. They
can't turn up to a classic links and play their usual game of attacking pins with ferocious spin and sky-high shots with their short irons. The wind duly ripped the Titleist's out of the air, dispatching them to the thick gorse.And so it should have done. It's their own fault for turning up ill-prepared, and arrogantly thinking that they could arrive at one of the most challenging layouts in the world and play the game that nets them a 20-under par victory on a bland parkland course in the average week. Players complaining that barely anyone registered an under-par round? Rubbish. This is the most challenging Championship in the world, and the world's best players should be struggling.
Of course, all the stress and strain gave way to some stunning play. Winner Padraig Harrington strung together a stunning final 9 holes to blow away any competition from Norman, Choi, Wakefield, Garcia, Stenson or anyone else. The approach to 18, after a stellar drive, took supreme guts and plenty of bravery. Even better was the approach to the green on the seventeenth, with the spectre of a possible Norman comeback still lingering. Surely it'll be awarded Shot of the Year - only something incredible will be able to topple Padraig's fairway wood.
Greg Norman was, indisputably, the other highlight. Every other old-timer in recent years who has made a move at the open - Jack Nicklaus, Tom Watson - has run out of steam come the weekend and drifted into dignified leaderboard obscurity come Sunday. Remarkably, Norman didn't just stick around on the top page - he nearly won it with a performance that will have endeared The Golden Shark to crowds already fond of the two-time Open
champion. It was a fantastic story: recently married to tennis star Chris Evert, he spends more time now playing tennis or looking after his business interests and was, at the start of the week, at the tournament to take his place as a past winner and largely make up the numbers.What a week it turned out to be: Harrington and Norman's epic performances, fantastic ingenuity and invention shown on the course, and the opportunity to watch a canny 53-year old pro show up a bunch of whingeing, complaining 'professionals' who seem to have had it far too easy for far too long.
And, you know what? As brilliant as he is, I didn't miss Tiger one bit.
My Favourite Games: Road Rash
Saturday, 12 July 2008
On a Friday evening, when I was younger, Mum used to collect me and my brother from school, and then we'd go over to visit my Paternal Grandparents. They live in a flat above my Dad's shop and, so, while we were waiting for Dad and Grandad to finish work, we'd chat, watch TV, all the usual stuff.
Quite often, I'd take my MegaDrive with me and plug it into their TV and play and, more often than not, it was Road Rash. Every time I played it, my Grandad was mortified: 'You're supposed to be overtaking them!', he'd implore, 'not hitting them!'
But, thinking about it, hitting them was kind of the point.
Road Rash was the first game that I owned, beating the original Sonic the Hedgehog by about 37 second. When I was 5 or 6, I got a MegaDrive for Christmas (or my birthday, I can't quite remember which) and, by all accounts, I loved it. I remember desperately wanting Sonic, but knew nothing about Road Rash when I tore open the paper and saw the plastic box in that classic Sega shape.
Still, it looked cool: two blokes on bikes, one reaching out to give the other a damn good smack. I'd never heard of Electronic Arts - wow, times really have 
changed - but the back of the box looked just as intriguing, promising 'the most illegal and dangerous race around' where you could 'club your opponents off the road at 150mph'. You even had to 'avoid cows'. It's a game that, truly, had it all.
After clamping the cartridge into the machine - I still have it, and it still works, and I sometimes do play it - the iconic theme music started, with it's computerised, midi tones and faux-rock style. Superb.
The game had five levels and five tracks, with the routes getting progressively more difficult - and longer - as you ascend. They broadly reflected some famous American climes: Grass Valley, the Pacific Coast, Pine Forest, Redwood Forest and Sierra Nevada. They were all pretty simple, but still managed to exude plenty of atmosphere - even a change in the colour of the grass, the type of trees or - and I'm not joking - the shape of the cows often indicated that you were in a different area of the country.
The rashers themselves were also full of personality. There's three in the image above - Sergio, Slater and Helldog, from left to right - and I can still remember the little groups that they formed at the beginning of the very first race in the first level. Gunther and Grubb bringing up the rear, Axle further on, and
then a group of four riders - including Chip and Dread - who you should pass around a particular corner. Most of the riders didn't even have pictures - they were simply names - but they still managed to feel like an integral part of the experience. So much so, in fact, that they're still all there in the 1996 PlayStation version of the game, albeit joined by a larger cast of characters.
As well as the atmosphere, there was the actual racing - and it was superb. Compared to modern titles it was, of course, horrendously simple, but it worked. Press A to accelerate and B to brake while navigating the tracks that, on the later levels, threw ludicrous corners and eye-bleeding speeds at you. If anyone got in your way, then you could, of course, hit them - one button threw a quick punch, and various other combinations would unleash a vicious backhand or a powerful kick. There was definite skill in employing violence; kicking a competitor into the path of an oncoming car - because you were racing in traffic - was always memorable.
You could buy different bikes, too, and they were divided into three different classes, depending on power. Some of the later models were absolutely fearsome, transforming races from violent slugs into scenery-blurring dashes that relied more and more on sheer racing instinct rather than conscious thought.
Countless other things made me love Road Rash: the manual was full of back-story: the tale of how the tournament came about, the rasher's histories, and even information about the cops. It didn't impact upon the actual gameplay at all, but it just made for a more enjoyable experience. It's certainly a far cry for the manuals that show up with many a game nowadays that are just a piece of paper with the controls on and a link to some help pages, and plenty of games suffer as a result of this laziness.
And then there's the sequels. I don't have as much affection for them as I do the original game, but the ones that I've played are great nonetheless. Road Rash 3 had
a UK track, and introduced animated movies after the races. Road Rash on PlayStation actually had real live actors in movies before and after the races, and they were brilliant: tonnes of drunk, beardy biker blokes having fights and chasing beardy biker women. They often clashed over trophies, money and bragging rights, and they were genuinely entertaining.
But, for pure nostalgia value alone, the original Road Rash is pure perfection. It's a combination of things: the great, simple, addictive racing, the different bikes, the odd cast of rashers and the memories of unpacking the game in our old house. Grandad didn't approve then, and he doesn't know - but one thing is certain. No-one will overtake you if you've just clubbed them around the face.
