We don’t get it much in Cornwall, apart from the last two winters. This last week is the first frost I’ve seen, and the first time this winter that the little snowflake on the dashboard of my car has turned red (indicating that the temperature has dropped below zero degrees).

I’m in two minds about snow, however. On the one hand, “oh, isn’t everything so beautiful!” Everything looks white and fresh. It’s so quiet, and your boots make that lovely crunching sound as you walk along.

On the other hand, I have responsibilities. I have to get to work. That’s not so easy in the snow. OK, driving through a few centimeters of snow isn’t so bad. There’s a fair amount of grip, once you realise that you can’t brake and turn at the same time. Everyone drives nice and slowly (apart from those few in the fast lane who seem to think that traction control makes them invincible). The last couple of years, it snowed, then it was really cold. So we were basically driving on ice, and that’s not so good. The main roads were clear, but getting up the hill to the main road wasn’t so much fun.

It would be great to be a kid again when it snows. You can either get to school or you can’t. That’s your parents’ problem. Someone needs to go and get food in the house, but that’s nothing to do with you. The heating is on full blast, but that bill’s nothing for you to worry about. The kid’s job is to play outside and have fun.

Last year they showed something on the news about Heathrow airport being closed. They showed some kids playing outside in the snow, looking really happy, and talked to them. “Where are you going?” they were asked. “Spain!” they replied. Um, no you’re not. Kids don’t really understand the words “cancelled” or “grounded”. That’s for the parents to worry about.

Well, no snow yet this winter. The current lot doesn’t seem to be coming any further south than Bristol, and that’s over a 100 miles up north. Our lovely crisp bright mornings have turned to mucky rain. And it’s still cold. Lovely.

Do work.

Come home, make tea, watch a DVD while eating tea. Watch some more telly. Go to bed.

Simple? Safe, certainly. But it’s a lot of work, in my own head. There are certain programmes to watch on certain days. The same food is eaten on each day each week. And I don’t like this to change.

Pizza and Dr Who - the perfect Saturday night combination

For example, Saturday night is pizza night. Pizza and (currently) an episode of Dr Who. The Dr Who is important. I know the episodes really well. That means I can look down at my pizza to sprinkle on the Tabasco without missing anything.

I think of it as my weekly treat. If I “have” to do something else on Saturday night I get mildly irritated. My brain immediately screams “But, but, it’s pizza night!”. I need to designate another night to be pizza night. That mucks up my routine for the alternate night. The sky falls and the world comes to an end. I can’t help thinking this isn’t entirely “normal” (whatever that is).

Oops

Routine has its up side, of course. When I leave home, I check various plug-sockets, electrical equipment, the windows and so on in the same order every single time. That way nothing gets missed. I know nothing’s been left on. No worries, no “rushing back home to check”.

On the negative side, I’ve noticed that some things I do are so automatic, they cease to be “things to do” and become instead “the correct number of things to do”. I once had a pair of trousers with an extra button. More than once I left the house with the fly unzipped. My brain insisted I’d done the correct number of things in order to fasten those trousers – the extra button took the place of the fly.

Batman doesn't have this problem - he just locks up and goes

Where do things deteriorate to the point of the ridiculous? When I lock a door I always give the handle a tug to check – normal enough. I then need to leave the immediate vicinity within 4-5 seconds, or I’ll check the door again. Just in case it has magically unlocked itself in the meantime. And I’ll keep checking it until I leave. The absolute knowledge that it’s locked doesn’t help.

Some people describe routine as “boring”. I prefer “predictable”. I’m sure there’s a line there somewhere, I’m just not sure I’m on the right side of it.

The chap on the left has no use for money. Not so the chap on the right.

Well, we’re well into 2012 and Christmas is but a distant memory. However, it’s not time for me, personally, to hit the yearly reset button just yet (financially speaking, that is).

Christmas is, of course, is an expensive time for many people (by “many”, I mean pretty much everyone who celebrates Christmas). So now that it’s a distant memory, surely that’s a good time to start your own financial year afresh?

I have a massive clump of expenses, starting near the start of December and lasting until the end of January. There’s Christmas, of course. Then there are the membership dues for the two professional organisations I’m a member of. It’s not even as if I still work in the same field as these two organisations, but I still like to keep up with events and advances in my old field. Plus, of course, my ego likes the associated letters after my name. Then there’s the car. For some reason, whenever I decide to change cars I always do it in the first couple of months of the year, which means that the service is always due just after Christmas. Good timing, huh.

So my yearly reset currently lies in February. I can’t help feeling that I work all the year before in order to pay for all this stuff. Or, considering that I pay for it all courtesy of Mr MasterCard and Mr Visa, I guess I work all the year after in order to pay it back.

Star Trek has an interesting take on money – they don’t have any. Captain Picard explains this at some point during “ST- The Next Generation”. This is a great idea, but I certainly don’t see it happening even by the 24^th Century (the century in which I believe it is set). It would require a quantum leap in thinking, and the whole world would need to do it at once. And some races still love money in the show – where would the Ferengi be without their gold-pressed latinum?

Well, I started off moaning about money and ended up showing my geekiness. Christmas may be over, but Easter eggs are already hitting the shops (whhhhhaaaat!). Yes, it’s true! So we have that to look forward to.

Aargh! Techno fear!

Ah, technology. New stuff. Electronical marvels.

Love it or hate it, it’s everywhere.

I’m constantly in two minds about the whole new technology deal. I tend to desperately want new gadgets but scoff at new innovations.  Which is weird, considering I moved from laser research to computer programming – you’d think I’d be more than ultra keen for every new little thing.

Sometimes it’s down to my dislike of change. I get comfortable with an operating system on a computer. I know where everything is and I don’t want it to change. Eventually I get used to the new one of course, but I guess if you’ve spent 10 years with Windows XP, say, Windows 7 comes as a bit of a shock.

Sometimes it’s all about control. Take an automatic gearbox on a car (OK, that’s been around a while, but still). Doubtless it has its advantages, but no car’s going to tell me when to change gear, and if that means red-lining the revs then so be it. Maybe I’m not alone in this one – automatics are fairly rare. I’ve never seen one in a car showroom (of course I’ve never been looking for one) and only ever been in one once.

But I can be dead against new features and grow to love them. When I bought my new (well, pre-owned) car a couple of years ago it had a bunch of stuff I considered ridiculous. Automatic headlights? Automatic windscreen wipers? That’s my job – I was determined to switch it all to manual. A couple of days later I thought it was the best thing since sliced bread. I got a loaner car a couple of weeks ago and when it began to rain I suddenly realised it was getting harder to see and nothing was happening. I have to twiddle a control to get the windscreen wipers to come on? How quaint!

Internet on your phone? Don’t be daft. I held out for years. Who needs that? Me, apparently.
Though as it turns out it’s far too easy to buy massive amounts of MP3s.

e-book readers. Love ‘em, hate ‘em or haven’t tried ‘em? I would like to be a snob about books. Ah, the feel a of real book, the smell of the paper, the look of the beautiful hardbacks on the shelves. Well, my shelves are so full of beautiful hardbacks I decided I’d need to buy an e-book reader, and I’ve never looked back. I’ve decided that the thing I love best about books is the content, rather than the physical thing.
Though as it turns out it’s far too easy to buy massive amounts of books.

Hang on, is this new tech stuff just about getting us, Joe Public, to part with more money? No, that’s too cynical.

So, the upshot of this ramble? Drag me into new tech and I love it. Otherwise I’ll just complain about how unnecessary it is.

Geoff Chaucer, last seen in the 1300s

Languages change and evolve – we all know that. What surprises me is the speed at which this can happen.

Take a look at this bit of Chaucer from the 14th century:

This frere bosteth that he knoweth helle,
And God it woot, that it is litel wonder;
Freres and feendes been but lyte asonder.
For, pardee, ye han ofte tyme herd telle
How that a frere ravyshed was to helle
In spirit ones by a visioun;

It’s vaguely understandable, but clearly not modern English – see here for a translation. To be honest, after 600 years I’m surprised it’s as close to today’s language as it is.

Then we have slang words. Some appear and stick around, some are less long-lived. Some are merely short-term fads. When I was at school, if we wanted to say something was great, we used the word “skill”.

“Did you see that football match last night? It was skill!”

That particular one has disappeared. We also completely reversed the word “help” – that lasted a few months. If someone asked you if they could “help” you, answering in the affirmative would lead to your school bag being unzipped, turned upside down and your belongings being turfed out all over the playground.

These are short-term slang words attached to a particular group or region, and generally never make it to a dictionary.

I see three sources of language change today which may accelerate the change of language as a whole.

1. New slang words and abbreviations which stick around and become an official part of the language. These can originate from text-speak, for example. I wonder how long it will be before “LOL” becomes official? Take “Fail”, usually seen in texts. The first time I saw this I was most confused. “Fail” is a verb, and by itself in a sentence is most likely the imperative, or command form. Someone is commanding me to fail! I eventually realised it’s a new meaning, when someone has themselves failed at something, or something else has failed. I particularly like “Epic Fail”. I generally get on my high horse and refuse to use such terms, but I like this so much, I may start using it. I even love an American phrase, which many hate – “My bad.” This is a great way to accept responsibility for something without even a hint of an apology. It’s very flippant, so be careful when you use it. When explaining a mistake to your boss or trying to avoid a prison sentence, for example, a proper apology is probably a better way to go.
2. Technology. Abbreviations which have become proper nouns, for instance “LASER”, or new words to describe new things, like “internet”. Of course, new things have always been invented which needed to be named, but there seems to be so much of this happening these days!
3. New words, or existing words whose meanings have changed slightly due to the distribution of English across the world. For example, words such as “elevator” (lift), “sidewalk” (pavement) or “mall” (shopping centre). Although I believe this last word originated in England as a road with market stalls along it (such as Pall Mall in London). The inventive Americans popped a roof over the whole thing and the modern shopping centre was born!

These are my thoughts – a physicist turned computer programmer who really knows nothing about language. I’d love to hear different points of view, a rebuttal or counter argument of my off-the-top-of-the-head “theory”! I’m sure there’s tons of stuff on the internet about this, but research early Sunday morning? I don’t think so.

On the left, an apostrophe. On the right, an apostrophe as it should often be seen - absent.

I don’t usually write on the use of the English language. This is mainly because I’m worried that I’ll make exactly the same mistake in my post that I’m complaining about. Now, that would be ironic.

However, I walked into a major supermarket on Monday (October 31st – Halloween) and was confronted by the following sign:

“In the interests of security, please remove any Halloween mask’s.”

Note the apostrophe. Now, why is that there? How about:

“In the interests of the English language, please get someone who paid attention at school to write your signs.”

“Masks” is a normal plural noun. It doesn’t need an apostrophe, but this is one of the most common mistakes, probably second only to the “its/it’s” confusion, which is almost understandable since it doesn’t follow the rules.

I was tempted to point it out, but knowing my luck I’d be talking to the person who wrote the sign and they’d relieve me of my trolley, put my picture on the “banned from this store” wall and politely ask me to go away.

The “plural noun apostrophe” debacle even has a special name – it’s often called the “butcher’s apostrophe” or “greengrocer’s apostrophe”. This is due to the number of signs one might see on the high street offering “Three apple’s for a pound” and so on. I don’t necessarily blame the schools – we’re taught this stuff – but practice counts and I don’t think people read enough.

And while I’m on a rant, the Christmas decorations in the shop were up. In October! How can we view Christmas as a “special time” if it lasts for months? I can’t wait for the Boxing Day sales so I can get my Easter eggs in. Humph.

So, in the spirit of a very early Christmas and apostrophe hell,

“Merry Christma’s everyone! I hope you get lots’ of present’s!”

Come hither, one and all, and hear a tale of heroes and adventure. Hear ye, dear listeners, the tale of unlikely hero of old, Eric Thane!

Part 1, in which Eric listens to a bard and leaves home in search of a great prize.

We meet our hero
Meet our hero, learn his name
Gunther’s brother, Eric Thane
Gunther, he was proud and strong
But Eric? Everything was wrong
Short of stature, rumpled hair
Some would say, “It isn’t fair!”
But nothing ever got him down
Always smiling, ne’er a frown
He never shirked, he did his bit
He worked the fields, he shovelled shit.

Eric makes a decision
Then one day while watching sheep
(It was a fairly boring week)
A famous bard he came to stay
By telling stories, paid his way
He sang of kings and armies vast
He told of famous battles past.
One such tale had all ears open
Of a diamond, long since stolen
Eric heard with widened eyes
The story of this fabled prize
No man knew where now it was
Just that it lay to the north
Eric heard the jewel held magic
To hear it’s lost is surely tragic!
So Eric made a plan that day
That come the morn’, he’s on his way
Towards the north, that jewel to seek
Even if it took all week!

It has been pointed out to me that I haven’t actually posted anything for a while, and indeed I haven’t. So this is something in the nature of a holding post.

I’ve actually been working on an “Epic Poem”. Well, in my head it was going to be an “Epic Poem”. It was going to be a serious poem, full of epic adventure. There was going to be an awesome hero performing deeds of great importance. I saw myself as an aspiring modern-day Homer.

However, when I started writing, it didn’t quite work out that way, despite my best intentions. It features a rather clumsy, idiotic chap by the name of Eric Thane who bumbles through the poem – things generally turn out well by accident rather than design. And it’s in no way going to be “Epic”, either in content or length. Although some of the best poems don’t rhyme, and I think they’re great, I don’t seem to be able to write like that. So it’s taking me ages to get it right, and despite my best efforts it’s turning out rather cheesy. Ho hum.

I’ve managed to write some poems which, though they won’t win any prizes, have made me proud of the achievement. However, telling an actual story using words which rhyme and lines which scan is a lot harder than it looks.

So, part one of my Epic Poem coming soon, though it’s likely to be more Pam Ayres than Homer.

People say it’s such a pity
All the world’s become a city
Trees and grass and bubbling brooks
Can only now be found in books.

No horses, cows or dogs or cats
All the food is grown in vats
People crammed in tiny spaces
Life’s a drudge, no happy faces.

The older ones think “Such a shame”
Wondering just who’s to blame
No more trilling sparrow’s song

Nature’s time has long since gone.

The answer to the Ultimate Question. And my age.

Forty-two. According to the late great Douglas Adams in his amazing “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”, this is the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything.

It’s also my age, as from today (Happy Birthday to me)!  As my age is now the answer to the Ultimate Question, I’m expecting great things from the coming year. Everything’s going to fall into place, oh yes.

The nature of time

So that got me thinking about time. It’s an established scientific fact that time moves more slowly when you’re waiting for something to happen, as evidenced by Clive Giggletrousers’ “boiling kettle experiment” of 1975 (no link available).

Half an hour later, still not boiled!

Widely televised, the kettle failed to boil during the eight hour show, due, it has been proposed, to the sheer number of people watching. Further anecdotal evidence has been reported in the case of terminally lazy Mirabelle Jiff of Milton Keynes, UK, who, according to witnesses, waited for something to happen to her for so long she lived to the grand old age of 723 (unsubstantiated).

However, little has been reported regarding an increased rate of the passing of time. Recently, I discovered this phenomenon in my own life! It was the trial of Michael Jackson’s doctor which brought it home to me. The news reader mentioned “the death of Michael Jackson in June 2009″.

2009? 2009?

Blimey. I thought it was just a few months ago. So, with the aid of a calculator, I estimate that time for me is running at around six times “normal”. This is a bit worrying, to be honest. Even if I live until I’m eighty (is that even possible on a diet of pizza, ice cream and Marmite sandwiches?), I’ll be dead by fifty. Yoinks! Maybe if I speak nicely to my pension company, I can cash it in early.

So, please join me next year for my 70^th birthday and I’ll let you know how I’m getting on.