An amalgam of various life, people, places, health and other random stuff, all in one place.
As mentioned before, I release most of my photos through a Creative Commons license. This means I allow people to re-use my photos as long as they credit me, and if someone ammends or alters the photo in anyway, the revised photo is released under the same license.
Goodness knows how many of them are used but every now and then someone posts a comment on the flickr page to say that they've used one of my photos for some reason. Telling people that you've used their photo is a nice thing to do and something I do myself when I use someone elses photo.
Or at least, I try to do...
Continue reading and comment on 'Note to self: Always remember to thank the person whose photo you’ve used'
As you may know, I've published some e-books. Well recently a friend asked me what options there were to do it. So I laid them out for them.
And then I thought I'd share it with you all. Because, well, why not?
So there's various ways of publishing your own e-book. And here some of them. Everything here is very much focused on UK based authors.
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We’re making great strides towards gender equality in many areas, but sometimes it’s the little things that show us just how far we’ve still got to go.
Having decided between a off road jeep or a sports car (I wonder which of those environmentally friendly options Bill Oddie uses on his own bird watching adventures) you drive around the board between different habitats in order to spot different birds.
Earlier this year I was in the Lake District, climbing Black Fell. And at the top of the hill was a trig point. Attached to that trig point was a sign. A sign with a logo. The National Trust logo.
I recently made a small but significant change over on flickr. I changed my Creative Commons licenses on all my photos.
It’s now less than two months to go until my final day at the BBC, which is daunting. However it’s also exciting as it’s less than two months until my final day at the BBC! For that means that my trip to walk the Southern Upland Way is drawing ever nearer.
Last summer I had an idea. As well as writing up my trip walking Wainwright’s Coast to Coast walk, why not make a downloadable version available as well, sold for Amazon Kindle? Today, the first royalty cheque arrived.
Hello. I’m a woman, in an advert. You can tell I’m a woman because I’m wearing a dress. Or maybe a skirt. But not trousers. Because women don’t wear trousers. And certainly not jeans. Women don’t wear such clothes. Only someone who doesn’t care about their appearance would look so bad.c
I have a slight worry that I’m turning in to one of those people who starts projects and then never finishes them. You know the kind. You start with lofty ambitions, kick it all off and then, somewhere down the line, get distracted and never finish.
Over my life I have taken thousands and thousands of photographs. As I type I have 6,570 uploaded to my flickr account, and given I tend to only upload around one out of four photos I take, clearly I’ve taken a fair few.
I’ve had a camera since I was probably seven or eight or something like that, but it was digital photography that really got me started because it ended the depressing cycle of me taking photos, sending them off to be developed, getting them back and flicking through them only to find them all badly framed, out of focus or full of those annoying stickers saying “boy do you suck at that this big time dude…” All of a sudden I could take good photographs, frame them correctly, and best of all, experiment.
Snow? At Christmas? Barking!
It seems like months since I was up North walking the Cumbria Way, which to be fair it was. However the vagaries of normal life meant that ultimately I didn’t get round to writing all the blog posts I meant to about my time up there - especially as I ended up writing a plethora of articles about London at the same time. Still when you’ve got blog posts to write, why not write them even if it is far too late after the event! Especially when one of the things I didn’t get round to blogging about was facial hair!
If you’ve been following the Daily Links you’ll know that there’s been serious problems with the mail in Wimbledon thanks to Royal Mail deciding to “modernise”.
The recent snow is certainly bringing a fair amount of joy to the UK. And maybe it’s time to pop outside and enjoy it whilst I can.
There’s not many times when I don’t feel a pang, a wish to live outside London. But there’s a regular one, round about this time of year.
…cheer yourself up with a nice photo.
It’s coming up for three years since I joined the gym, which is conveniently located a mere five minute walk from our house. And I’ve been a regular visitor ever since, with a target of going 3 times a week to either work out or swim.
The story today that a think tank believes some Northern cities are beyond revival and that those living there should move to the South East is one that fills me with some interesting conflicting emotions.
I like technology. Technology is cool. I like the convenience of my MP3 player. My photos have never been better since I got a digital camera so that I can see what I’ve taken, and improve instantly. My PVR hoovers up TV programmes and gives them to me in a nice menu.
Like the world and his giddy aunt, I’m on Facebook. And for various reasons, I’m rather hidden on it - if you don’t know me, you won’t find my picture; you can’t see my friends list. You can find me, but you can’t find much out about me.
Occasionally I’ve dug up some old post from three or four years ago and re-read it. And noticed something slightly depressing - how awful my spelling is.
First I find out that Linux Format is available in Greek and Russian, but now the BBC tell me that there are penguins that fly!
A fantastic piece of packaging came my way today.
Why walk when you can get the lift a whole one flight of stairs?
I never really liked the standard white sliced. Too factory-made, too plastic. Bland, boring, soggy. A far cry from what our neighbours across the channel do where popping to the bakery for a fresh baguette is a standard thing.
Anyone watching Have I Got News For You last night might remember a picture involving a coffin at a bus stop…
Thanks to Google’s email alerts, the first known litterary Andrew Bowden has been found - by which I mean a character in a short story.
I know, I know. I’m about twenty years behind everyone else. For whatever reason, I didn’t watch Life On Mars when it was first broadcast. In fact it completely passed me by until series two started being promoted. And it looked tempting, but I didn’t want to come into it mid way through.
Is a hundred years after it was first mooted, enough time to wait for us to finally go totally metric?
In light of the press field day over fake competition SCANDALS!, I would like to publicly announce my own involvement with competition rigging.
Last year I successfully managed to order about £200 worth of Norwegian Krone via the Post Office website, and then pick it up at the Post Office branch in the building next door to where I work. This year I can’t order anything online to pick up anything at the very same branch…
One of the few reasons I continue to tolerate a lengthy commute to White City every morning, is that it gives me plenty of time to read - something I confess to rarely doing at home.
As we wheeled our suitcases back towards our little house after spending time up north at Christmas, I suddenly realised something about the area we live in. To make sure, I looked up and down the street. Yep, I was right. There was something distinctly missing from almost every house. A burglar alarm.
For some reason, being off work ill makes me do the funniest of things.
I wonder how many blog posts out there start with some mutterings about the poster being sorry about the lack of posts, and that they’ve been a bit busy of late with all manner of exciting or maybe dull things.
I was having a ponder the other day and realised I hadn’t had a phone bill for some time. Well, about four months. This is actually quite odd as it used to be every month. So I headed off to my phone supplier to see if I could spot anything odd.
Late last night, Catherine announced to the world that she was standing down as day to day editor of The F-Word.
Yep, it’s been snowing, which for the news means sending countless reporters out into the middle of nowhere to get cold to report on the fact that schools are closed and roads are slippery.
Regular readers might notice a difference in style for this entry. This is because this entry was originally written for One Day In History - an attempt to capture one days life of many, many people, and store that data in the British Library for future generations. That One Day is today, 17 October 2006. If you’re interested in contributing to the archive about your 17 October, don’t worry - it’s not too late! You can do so until the end of October, via their website.
So hello. Here I am back again - it’s been a while since I last posted, partly because I was just really busy early August (I have an email backlog a mile long) and partly because Catherine and myself were on holiday in Norway.
Tucked away in a corner of the BBC News website recently was a little story about how Thames Water were thanking people for saving water during the current water problems. Apparently demand dropped by 176 million litres a day in June.
Pringles when they’re broken, are just no where near as satisfying to eat.
When I lived in Ealing, it was hard to miss the impact the town had had on the world. The white painted brickwork of Ealing Studios were there every time I walked down St. Mary’s Road. It’s taken me some time (well two years in the area), and I’ve been slowly but surely discovering more and more about where I live now - Merton - whose secrets are a bit more hidden.
So what to do when you’re off work with a dodgy stomach? Well there was only one option. Find out just why it’s the “The Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia”. Well it’s the kind of lightweight, fluffy task that my brain can cope with on such a day.
As problems go, it’s not the end of the world. Just a mild annoyance that sometimes you don’t want.
When I got my first job in production almost three years ago, I jokingly told my developer colleagues that I’d be coming back to make their life a misery by constantly changing my mind on things, and going in half way through a project and demand “make it pink!”.
Heard on a TV advert yesterday for the Race for Life…
Is it possible to look at Spherey and not feel happy? I think not.
Ever had one of those days where you just feel like your shovelling crap from one pile to another.
Funnily enough, I’m not one of the leading lights in the old right-wing, pro-Tory Biased BBC. Whilst I can foam at the mouth, I can’t do it to the same level as those guys (it’s an outrage etc etc)
This is entry number 555, one of many entries made in the three and a half years this site has been going. (Three and a half years? Doesn’t time fly?)
Not long after returning to London post Christmas, Catherine got a stinking cold. On Monday, I ended up with it. Doesn’t seem as bad as hers - I haven’t been bad enough to take time off work - but it seems to help if I don’t think too much, and I don’t exactly have a lot of energy which makes burning off the quite frankly ridiculous half a stone of weight that I put on at Christmas, a little hard.
Whoever you are, wherever you are, best wishes to you all, and remember - drink responsibly, certainly don’t get unlicensed minicabs home, and most of all remember that quadruple vodkas are never a good idea.
When you have a temporary filling, it’s a good to avoid eating anything from a box of Thorntons scrummy Original Toffee. It’s an even better idea to not forget that you can’t chew on said toffee, on the right side of your mouth.
So I’ve been in a pub before now where a brass band turned up playing carols, but never have I been in a pub where they brought a nonchelant sheep, a petrified looking pony and a vicar who lead an informal carol service. Well until tonight anyway!
If you’re not reading this in a newsreader then you may notice that the Christmas lights have gone up here at Bods’s Blog. I finally decided that I felt festive enough to put a little bit of reddish pixie dust on the old site, although it was a close run thing.
Vaguely tedious moaning about dental work.
So it’s a week off for me. And Catherine’s off too. And we haven’t exactly done much, bar eating out at lunch a few times, and me going to the gym a lot.
I’ve had a bit of a sore arm all day thanks to the annual flu jab, which I got from the doctors last night. I say annual - in reality it’s the first one I’ve had in about four years as I keep forgetting, which usually results in being told off by my doctor. As I’m asthmatic, they seem to think these things are vaguely important.
A discussion in the canteen recently involved around one of my colleagues saying about how he is less inclined to do DIY and more inclined to get someone in to do things - it’s about balancing up how much your free time is worth in comparison to the cost of getting someone in.
So I’d like to say a big thank you to the person who, at some point, walked to the end of my drive, lifted up the purple recycling box, removed the green recycling box from underneath it, took out a newspaper and some other bits of paper from the green box, put them in the purple box, put the purple box back, and then scarpered with my green recycling box.
I seem to recall recently, hearing a report on Today about how hedgehogs are becoming rarer. I’ve certainly never seen one. Foxes yes, Hedgehogs no. Until tonight.
You may be pondering why I have been strangely quiet for the last eleven days. Or you may not. Hey, why should you?
Hiking past nice signs warning of extreme danger due to guns is nice.
Train is very busy. People are left on the platform. You notice a woman stood next to you. Her belly looks slightly big. You cautiously attempt to look at her face just to make sure she’s not just well built. She could be pregnant. It could just be the way she’s standing due to her grabbing on to the rail. You’re just not sure.
Yesterday I walked past Chris Langham on my way to the canteen. Cool!
Peacocks. They’re pretty impressive creatures with their fancy plumage - their tail feather display designed to woo and impress the peahens. So I naturally couldn’t help but wonder how much luck this albino peacock has.
Microwaves aren’t particularly hard. You get a temperature setting and a time setting. Doddle. Dead easy. You pick your temperature and you pick your time. Any old muppet could cope with that. Now imagine you are presented with a
Brighton was the first big test for the new digital camera, which we’d been merely pottering around with until then.
A couple of weeks ago I realised that not only was it June, but I’d had a whole of three days off work in the first five months of the year. And one of those was taken so I could do tourist stuff with my mother, so wasn’t exactly a carefree day of leisure.
Some time ago the BBC redid it’s jobs site, and it’s rather handy cos you can save all your details on the site. Once you’ve inputted all your data in the first time, you can re-use it (and edit it if desired).
I don’t do this weather. I melt. Slowly and surely.
Sorry, you can blame Kirk for that title, but today the torric contact lens went back. Well actually not the original - I gave up on that pretty quickly - but a second type of torric contact lens.
Bar a brief dalliance with them on Saturday when I had a trip to the opticians, I’ve not worn my contact lenses for almost a week, whilst I wait for another type of lens to appear, for me to try.
After visiting the opticians the other day, I was given a new toric lens to try and counter the affects of a minor astigmatism in my eye. Or that’s the theory. In practise, it seems to have made the problems I’ve been having with eye strain recently have just got ten times worse.
Just under a month ago, I mentioned the errection of two large, metal billboards on a small patch of grass right outside Colliers Wood tube station, next to the Brown and Root Tower. And now I write again.
One of the comments I’ve heard a lot of the last few days is "you sound terrible. Go home and put your feet up". Which is ironic given that overall, I’m feeling fine - it’s just that I’ve completely lost my voice!
Always remember that trying to contact verbally with someone on the phone is pretty fuitile when you have lost your voice and can’t particularly make yourself be understood very well even when someone is stood right in front of you, yet alone at the other end of a crackily phone line.
Just when things seemed to be getting better… I have now lost my voice. Oh and a bit of my tooth has disappeared.
I’ve tried to keep things on a usual level without descending into becoming moaning and winging but I’m afraid I’m having difficulty now. It’s been a week since this bug started attacking me and to be blunt, I’ve had enough.
Some things I currently dislike.
In a few weeks time I will sadly no longer be making the trog to work up to the delightful Bush House. For us in New Media, this delightful location in the heart of London’s west end will just be a distant memory, for we’re moving to the less glamorous White City.
I have to say I don’t recognise much in Manchester on the rare occasions when I go back - and what I do recognise has often changed. Finally saw the new look Hacienda - now sadly converted to flats and surrounded by lots of buildings full of glass and chrome. But whilst the city centre is looking sprucer by the visit, it’s not always true of elsewhere in the city.
I think it says something about me. If I write down and tell someone that I can’t be bothered to do something, I then go and do it.
I suppose I should be doing something useful with my day, but to be frank, I’m not sure I can be bothered.
The other weeked a red phone symbol started flashing on the display of my phone. Danger, danger? Or Voicemail voicemail?
There’s something I have to ask. Why is it that postmen in London just leave stuff on your doorstep?
Well I guess Chicken Soup can’t solve every problem which is why I spent most of yesterday and part of today, in bed with flu.
The problem with autumn is that the illnesses begin to arrive.
Just a few days before we get hold of the keys… We’re not moving in straight away - but waiting until the following weekend but it’s getting… well exciting that finally we’ll have it, but sad as well.
It’s been 17 months since I wrote about the bibbed brigade of direct debit collecting charity nuisances and today I finally found out what the masses are aparantly calling them. But chuggers doesn’t describe them well enough for my liking. I much prefer "annoying <insert swearword here>.
So I’m chomping on a mint and part of my tooth falls out. That’s not particularly fair is it?
Sometimes I wonder if I’m too predictable.
Whilst at Borough Market yesterday, Catherine spotted Sue Perkins - probably best known as one half of comedy double act Mel and Sue, and less well known as host of Radio 4’s The 99p Challenge.
With Hutton, Dyke and phone problems, I almost forgot about Catherine being in the Guardian again yesterday, with some brief views on Sex And The City.
Five fillings down, and a crack appears…
Last week was hardly my idea of a relaxing week of work I must confess. Instead of sitting down and relaxing, we spent most of our week walking down road after road in an attempt to find a area where we could buy a house.
Top game to play - I guarantee this will be a laugh. All you need is a lift - any lift will do…
Weeks off work are supposed to be relaxing. Which is why we’re trogging round South London looking for potential places to buy a house.
After a four year gap, a broken filling meant I really had to go to the dentist again.
It’s been getting on for a week since the postman visited the front door of Bods Towers, thanks to a raft of unofficial strikes that have hit London.
I work for five days a week. I get two off to relax and enjoy myself. So why is it I always fall ill at weekend?
…sometimes I wonder why I bother
My other half has now been declared one of 50 women to watch by the Guardian.
What’s the worst thing about having the flat to yourself?
Wendy has a new MP3 player, and Paul and Andrew C can only communicate by the power of blog entries. And Mark Radcliffe has been to Ashton a few times. And does anyone actually read this rubbish?
So here I am. I live in a flat. Next door lives quite a famous blogger. Yes. He of MovableBlag.com. Yes. He of the big time famous dude. I say lives as that’s not quite true. In fact it’s false as he moved out the other week.
A quality piece of graphitti is spotted near Waitrose.
An article by my other half, Catherine, purveyor of contemporary feminism over at The F-Word was in the Guardian today.
Wendy put it better than I could ever do. "Lesson #1 of London - wherever you are, you are IN THE WAY."
Hyde has now become linked with serial killings. It’s very odd to see your home town seen that way.
Will you PLEASE stop hassling me every day to fill out direct debit forms!