venta

My favourite typo of the day (from RFC 2616):

"This media type UST NOT be used unless the sender knows that the recipient can arse it"

Why yes, thank you, I am really quite juvenile.

Some time ago, I reached the age where I realised I didn't know my age. If asked (which, let's face it, doesn't happen all that often) I'm forced to remember what year it is, subtract my birth year, and work out whether I've had a birthday or not recently in order to answer.

It seems such a far cry from the days when anyone was able, and even eager, to give their age; when the half-years and the quarter-years were jealously accrued. Six and three-quarters was babyish, but seven? Seven meant being allowed to walk to Pierremont Road shop by yourself[*].

When I was small, I'd be given my apples cored and cut up, sliced into pieces on a plate. And one day, presumably before I went to school, though I don't know exactly when, I was deemed to have the years, dexterity and teeth necessary to be given my apple whole. To just, like, bite into willy-nilly. I remember distinctly that this was a very grown up thing to do, and quite an achievement.

Accordingly, it's taken me over thirty years to admit that actually, I quite like my apples cored and cut up into pieces. And, if I'm dead honest, and if location, situation and cutlery allow, I would rather have them that way. I've been secretly slicing my apples up for some time. Today I boldly borrowed a knife from a colleague and chopped my lunchtime apple up at my desk. I reckon I'm big enough to eat my food like a baby if I choose.

Apples are much nicer like that, you know :)

[*] Actually, I have absolutely no idea at what age I was allowed to walk to Pierremont Road shop by myself, although I remember it was an exciting milestone. The shop isn't even there any more, bought up by a rival shop-owner and converted to a private house years ago.

While idly perusing yesterday's poll answers, I noticed this:



See that there? That (next to "Martyn") is a twitter icon.

Now, I know some people do Mysterious Magic to make their teeny-tiny LJ icon look like something other than the default but... twitter?

Anyway, it turns out you can log in to LJ with your twitter credentials. And vote in polls! Also with your Facebook credentials, should you have such things. And with the credentials of some other things I've never heard of (mail.ru, vkontakte) for which I'm blaming Russia.

I knew about OpenID, but this is all new to me. When did that arrive?

Today seems to be poll day.

[Poll #1706506]

If you don't know what I'm talking about, it's really not that exciting.

In other news, did you know that tarragon was also known as dragon's wort, or the dragon herb? Which is cool. I still don't like it, though.

There has been a serious outbreak of Hats in the Reading station area. I think it must be Ascot time of year.

Real content when I crawl out from under my pile of work. Maybe.

When I began commuting to work by train last year, I was surprised at how frequently the train stopped in a station in such a way that a person sitting where I was couldn't see the station name board. After three months, I can recognise the ten or so stations on my line, and am much more attuned to the stoppings and startings of my train.

In the initial stages, though, I was frequently to be seen peering out of windows, trying to work out where I was - not that it usually mattered, since I could recognise both the stations at which I might want to alight. One station, however, was always simple: as you pull in, a strident recorded female voice trumpets Slough. This is Slough!

I've never worked out why she sounds so pleased about it.

Trivia fans may also be pleased to hear that Slough is also the only station on my route with a stuffed dog on the platform. He's called Jim.