Mixed Messages

I'd like to think that, particularly over the course of the past eight months or so, that I have demonstrated that I am a flexible sort of chap. You know, adaptable, not phased by changes and definitely not a whinger. I'd like to think that anyhow.

And on the whole I've done rather well, taking things in my stride and just getting on with getting on. Yet here we are at the arse end of March and something is definitely up. Or down. Falling that is.

Yes it's March and the leaves are coming off the trees. Onto the ground. This, coupled with the fact that it's getting darker earlier and a little cooler, is frankly making my head hurt. March and April should be accompanied by re-growth and promises of all things summery. Instead my thoughts are turning to Christmas and my birthday. But they're not just around the corner like they usually are. Nor is Halloween or bonfire night. It's confusing. If I didn't remind myself on a regular basis I'd convince myself it was October not March.

I can't explain why I'm struggling so. It wasn't a problem in October. No the real one. Yes the thought of a spring birthday was a novelty but I didn't for a moment think it was autumn. Not once. So why was that? 

In comparison autumn is much harder to grasp as a concept. And what about midwinter in June. Yes I know. Odd. I've been grappling with this for over a week now and I finally have a theory. Well I would wouldn't I? It's this - I think Autumn really reminds me of home. The northern hemisphere. It's a part of the year that I really connect with and this is just like it. Except it's March. Oh and 20 degrees. But everything else points to it being Autumn. Which it is, but not in its usual calendar slot.

And as far as I know there's no way to square the circle or, to put it more succinctly, sort my head out.

So I've decided not to even bother. I'm going to go with the flow and let my head do what it wants. If it wants it to be October then I'm going to let it and live with the consequences. It's going to get messy. I can tell. For a start, I'm going to get funny looks in Halloween garb in May. It'll be worth it. And followed by pumpkin soup, bobbing for apples and trick or treat. Actually that might be a problem. 

This will shortly be followed by bonfire night in June. Sure I might get in trouble for setting fire to things in the local park but at least my head will stop hurting. Fireworks shouldn't be a problem though.

Yes that should do it. I'm going to celebrate the usual Autumn stuff. And while we're at it, I'll have another birthday thank you. A proper autumny one with dark skies, hopefully some drizzle and of course presents. The more the better, it is after all, for the good of my health.

The Waiting Game

Faced with the terrifying prospect of an 'empty' weekend, which just happened to coincide with the arrival of a cyclone, I suddenly realised that I had time to sit and do nothing, not only that, it was totally justified. Who on earth would want to go out with the rain lashing down and wind blowing a gale? Exactly. Time then to sit I front of the TV and play video games. And to mark this special occasion I decided to treat myself to a new game. Well there was certainly no way I was going to trek out to the shops to buy one, not unless I wanted to dress from head to toe in Gore-Tex and cling my way to the bus stop, stagger onto a bus, and then drag my sorry self to the nearest Warehouse. Nope. But this is modern life and there is absolutely no need to leave the comfort of the sofa. I'd simply download one. Easy-peasy.

So with a cup of tea in hand, still in my pyjamas, I selected the game Gran Turismo 6 and waited. 

"Hhhmmmm 15GB, this might take a little while', I mused to myself adding, "I should've started this earlier".

Not to worry, the day was yet young. I'd just potter about and in an hour or two the game would be ready and waiting. Still beats going outside. So after a very pleasant hour or two doing some filing I went back to the console in anticipation of taking a few laps around the Nürburgring. 

"10% complete! Is that all? Bleedin' hell this is going to take all day". 

Back to the filing, and then for good measure I balanced the home accounts.

"25% complete. Well now we're getting somewhere". 

To make sure that I maintained the maximum possible bandwidth, I went round the house and disconnected all the internet aware devices; computers, tablets, phones, radios and.......scales. I know. Don't ask. We were up to 50%. Yes getting there. I could almost smell the burning rubber and petrol. I've got to say at this point that I'm not a petrol head, in fact I couldn't be less bothered about motor racing if I tried and I'm one of the rare few it would seem who thinks Jeremy Clarkson is a total tool. But there is something about racing games. Maybe it's the simplicity; drive as fast as you can around a predetermined course, or the challenge of just you against the clock. Or maybe it's because they pander towards my pacifist leanings. Actually I suspect it's because I like the scenery but whatever the reason I've always liked them since the day I played Pitstop on the CBM64. Make no mistake, GT6 was going to be a stonker. Let's see where we are.....

"95% complete. Only three hours and nearly there....."

Why is it that the last 5% takes longer than the other 95? What is it with those bars that fill up as the download progresses. Are they elastic, exponential or just wrong. It seem to spend my entire adult life watching the bleeding things. Ironic I suppose. If I had a little bar over my head you could see it slowly fill up whilst I watched little bars fill up on the screen. And the more technically advanced, or reliant, we get the more and more we have to watch little bars fill up. I'm just waiting for the day when the humble toaster has a screen with a little bar that fills as the bread toasts, you just know it's going to happen......

"On my god, it's stuck on 99%!"

And then I started to get impatient. OK even more impatient.

"Has it crashed?". The sudden fear of dread filled my being. Maybe the console has frozen. Should I intervene? Maybe if I waggle the joypad? Nope. Press a button? No that was far too risky. What happens if it accidentally cancels the download? Would I have to start again?  "Just take some deep breaths Graeme and go and do something else to take your mind off it". So I did.

When I came back into the room, and hour or so later, it had finally finished downloading. "Thank god for that. Well it was a particularly large file..." I started to reason, buoyed by the fact that I was about to settle down for a good few hours of mindless racing. Just a quick install and then we'd be off. Just one more button press.....

"Installing", popped up, followed by "320 minutes remaining"

What? I frantically did some calculations in my head. 320 minutes is like over five hours. Five hours to install the game? What was it going to do - inspect every bit and byte? Surely it was some mistake. Ah yes! It'll soon realise the error and update the estimated time - I know computers seem clever but they can only count to 1. But the figure wasn't coming down other than by a second at a time. Five hours? That would be mostly the rest of the day. This was awful. It reminded my of computing way back when I would sit there and carefully type in code, one line at a time, from the back of a magazine only to find a syntax error somewhere in line1043. Then 2013 followed by 2087. Frustrated, I would enlist the help of my mother to carefully read each line whilst I checked my syntax. For errors. I was beginning to think that it might've been quicker to type this code in rather than wait. But I had no choice, I'd started so I was damned sure going to finish.

The installing took up the rest of the day and ate up the rest of my precious gaming time. "Ah well," I thought as I turned off the machine later that night, "at least I can have a go first thing in the morning," and turned in content at the thought.

Like an excited kid on Christmas Day, I leapt out of bed.... well as energetically as a forty-something can before his first coffee of the day, and headed up stairs to boot up the console. It was there! The shiny new GT6 logo! "I'll start the game and go and put the kettle on!" I thought, "I should get a few laps in before Sarah wakes up." The game burst into life....

"Installing update....5GB. Time remaining 4 hours"

Nnnnnnooooooooo! Modern gaming is rubbish. I willed the time to reduce more quickly but it was having none of it. This was worse than waiting for a game to load off cassette in the 1980s. At least then you had the loading screen to look forward to. Here there was just a black screen with a slowly moving line for entertainment. Is this progress? I think not. I huffed my way down to the kettle and stomped around whilst waiting for it to boil. Like my blood.

At this point I would like to apologise to the rest of New Zealand for clogging up the Internet all weekend. For those who couldn't chat with loved ones from around the world, order any online goods, book flights or simply catch up on world affairs I'm really sorry. The pipe was full of GT6 data. Was it worth it? I don't know but I'll let you know when it finishes, probably around Christmas.

 

Driving Me Crazy

It is generally considered, a truth universally accepted if you like, that Queenstown is the global capital of adrenaline sports. If you can call jumping off a bridge tied to an elastic band a sport that is. Which it's not. Foolhardy, maybe. A sport. No. Anyway questioning the legitimacy of bungee jumping as a potential Olympic event is not the point of this particular blog. But I do disagree that Queenstown is the adrenaline capital. I do. Most certainly. It is instead, in my humble opinion, Auckland. Or to be more precise the 2km stretch from our house in Parnell and our workplace in Newmarket. Gosh it's exciting. "But why?" I hear you ask. Well I'm going to go out on a limb here. Right out. Maybe too far....But it has to be said. Yes, I appreciate that this may cause some upset but, as all of the management manuals tell you, these things are better out in the open......

Kiwi drivers are shocking. Seriously. What gives? OK, I appreciate that I may be over generalising and maybe it's only an Auckland thing but good grief they suck. Big time.

They're not malicious, we'll leave those sort of shenanigans to the British who take perverse joy in making their fellow driver's lives miserable. Neither are they aggressive. Far from it. Aggression has no place on Kiwi roads, unlike the irate Italians who think the horn is somehow linked to the accelerator pedal. It's none of those things. No it's just they they're in a world of their own, their minds a thousand miles from where it ought to be. Which is of course observing the patch of asphalt in front of them. Not looking at their phones, combing their hair, chatting to their passengers or, and I'm not making this up, putting on lipstick.

Take the other day for example. I was walking to work, minding my own business, when I decided to cross a side street. This was nothing unusual and something I've done thousands of times before. You know, I know what I'm doing when it comes to side street crossing. I like to think myself of a bit of an expert in this matter. I came to the kerb side, looked in all directions and assessed the situation. It was early and traffic was light but there was a car approaching on the main road. "Where are they going?", I thought to myself, "I'd better make sure they're not turning left into this street"

Ah it was ok, they indicated to turn right, presumably into a driveway on the opposite site of the main road. And indeed the car started to turn to the right. No worries then. I stepped out into the side road and started my journey to the other side..... which was very nearly was in the spiritual sense. The car made a sudden change of direction and took a sweeping arc to the left and into the side street. My side street. THE ONE I WAS HALF WAY ACROSS!! 

Noticing my presence the driver took the only sensible option.... and sped up. My imminent doom seemed assured. I stopped in my tracks wondering if the last thing I would hear would be Madonna singing 'Borderline'  (I was feeling very base that morning and fancied a bit of 80s pop to accompany me in my journey.  With hind sight, if I'd known it was a journey to the afterlife I'd have picked something with a little more gravitas. Kylie for example). Frozen to the spot I saw my life flashing in front of my eyes, made peace with myself and shut my eyes. 

Thankfully the vehicle passed in front of me with an inch or two to spare. But close enough for me to get a look at the driver. He was oblivious to the whole thing - more concerned about a stray hair on his head than the startled looking pedestrian whose nose was almost grazed by his window - and sped of in the direction he had come.

And this is only the most recent incident. Oh I could go on. A colleague of mine spotted, whilst cycling into work, a woman holding a coffee in one hand whilst texting on her phone with the other, the steering wheel controlled masterfully with a pinkie finger. He had the last laugh - he got to the next set of lights, pulled up along side the car, banged on the window and shouted "Really? Are you serious?" Whilst gesticulating towards her choice of control mechanism. Or lack of it.

Maybe it is just Auckland. Or maybe the result of people used to driving on the open road being let loose in an urban environment. Maybe. Or it could be the result of nationalities not used to driving in the left arriving in the country and immediately being given control of a large SUV. Maybe. Or maybe it's just me? Maybe I'm a dangerous walker?

Certainly the rules of the road don't help. During my first month here I took our a pool car and drove, with some colleagues to a meeting. I was mocked for refusing to 'overtake' on the inside on the motorway. I just couldn't do it. I knew it was legal but every fibre of my British being screamed "DONT'T DO IT!! IT'S WRONG AND THERE'S NO WAY BACK." I explained to my passengers that I had a gold standard driving licence and I knew better. They'd never heard of a gold standard licence, so I explained it was a British licence and therefore the highest standard available. Odd but we've never really got on since.

In the short space of time I've been here I've see it all; tailgating on an empty motorway, dogs with heads out of car sunroofs, drivers reading books, looking at iPads or rummaging around for something in a bag.....on the back seat. I've seen cars pulling trailers with unsecured garden rubbish (by the time they got to where they were going the load would've surely miraculously vanished), vehicles suddenly emerging from within buildings onto packed footpaths, evasive manoeuvres on empty roads, non existent indication, over enthusiastic indication (tip: only one is supposed to flash at any one time), vehicles suddenly reversing onto the footpath, cars parked at jaunty angles across side roads and startled Asian drivers who seem surprised when a car doesn't get out of the way when they approach them on the wrong side of the road. It's mind boggling, exciting and just a little bit scary.

I'm sometimes really thankful to arrive into work in one piece. Sure, the first time I fell to my knees and kissed the carpet beside my desk got a few strange looks but it's become normal behaviour now. Well almost.

I say all of this from a place of love. I really do. Kiwis are lovely people; friendly, considerate, enthusiastic, caring and have a superb laissez-farez attitude. She'll be right. I just wish it didn't apply when they're behind one tonnes of fast moving steel.