Sweet Nothings

I've had a couple of experiences over the last week or so which served to demonstrate the importance companies attach to customer service these days. Firstly I ordered a gig ticket for something to do whilst I'm in New York later this month (New York? Why yes! I might even blog about it...). The package was duly Fed-Ex'd across the Atlantic and delivered to my home address, where of course it didn't get delivered because I was at work. After phoning up and being offered the chance to collect the package from their depot on some bleak industrial estate in darkest Enfield (no thanks), they agreed to deliver it to me at work. Which to be fair to them, they eventually did. Albeit at least three days after the originally specified day. Which was a Friday, with a window of 8:30am-5pm, for which I attempted to get into work early, but the bus was late, and I got in late, and stayed in the office until 5 even though everyone else left early for a colleague's leaving drinks,

Nothing particularly interesting or original to say here (no change there then!! roflmao), but congratulations must go to the lovely Jessica Ennis for winning World Championship gold in the heptathlon in Berlin this evening. There's a temptation to brand multi-event atheletes as Jacks (or Jills) of all trades, and therefore somewhat inferior to their counterparts who truly excel at one or two particular disciplines. But bloody hell, competing in seven different events over two days (ten for the boys) and being expected to get as close to your personal best as possible for each seems pretty incredible to me. And then there are the inevitable problems that come from pushing your body so hard in so many different ways. Dean Macey looked poised to become the new Daley Thompson when he first burst onto the international scene but his career was decimated and heavily curtailed by injuries. Ennis herself was forced to pull out of Beijing last year due to an ankle injury (one that has sinc

You love it. You know you do.

I had a dream last night in which my dad set fire to a dead dog. The corpse was in the middle of the street where I grew up, in an advanced state of decomposition. My dad was only trying to dispose of the body (clearly nobody else had), but instead the dog burst into flames and set off huge firecracker-like explosions. The only other thing I can remember is my mum telling dad off back in the kitchen for his stupidity. There’s not a lot else you can say about that is there?

Right, can of worms - check. Can opener - check. I think Gary McKinnon ought to be extradited to the US to stand trial on computer hacking charges. I may be sharing this position with some pretty unsavoury neocon sorts, and I hate to bandy phrases like "if you can't do the time, then don't do the crime" around willy-nilly, but it's what I honestly believe. Of course, the man has Asperger's and therefore many are arguing (with great eloquence and passion, I might add) that he should be treated as a special case. I freely admit to not knowing a great deal about this complex condition. It's clear that sufferers have great problems with emotional and social interaction, as well as a tendency towards intense preoccupation with a narrow subject such as UFOs in McKinnon's case. I would argue that the question of intent with regards to this alleged crime, and such issues as whether the man is capable of distinguishing right from from wrong, is at the very best