I'm a bundle of fury this week. Just a warning. If I hear Radio 4 or accidentally end up reading an article in The Telegraph, I may descend without warning into paroxysms of swearing as oh, yet another working mother suffers agonies of guilt because she only feeds her children a decent meal every evening (jeeesus, job done!) or someone reveals to me that I could magically slash my fuel bills or weekly rubbish by doing exactly what I'm doing right now. B*****KS! BLOODY BRITISH GAS! THINK THEY CAN KEEP MY CUSTOM BY SENDING ME LOW ENERGY LIGHTBULBS! I'M ALREADY USING THEM YOU N**S!

uuurgh. See what I mean.

So, I must calm myself. Read (Berryfield head gardener) alys_fowler's blog, snigger at the embarrassingly stage-managed "crises" in Lost Land of the Jaguar, wonder absentmindedly if the Magwilde and flame-haired German Bekker of Bonekickers are actually exes.

Speaking of the Jaguar, I think birds are getting short shrift on the programme -- they keep on being used as scenery, with little exploration of what species are being shown, how rare they are, or anything. It's possible that this is because the birds are already well documented, but would it kill them to say so? Well, in this spirit, why not find out a bit more about the fascinating habits of the antwren, whose fluffy nest-based activities were so cute this week?

P.S. Caption: I plan to meet up with some people at the Old Jam Factory tomorrow around 6-ish or later, set-up is happening on saturday from 9.30am, any more questions, ask.

This also happened today:

• 10:59 Reach round a rain-hung spiderweb for tomato water. Spider sneaks carefully under a rose leaf, waterdrops perfect spheres on her waxy skin.
• 12:24 Someone's text alerts are a burble of birdsong. I look for feathers, see a ticket inspector's fingernails, each a different rainbow colour.

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There was the exhibition first, of course. We had an opening! Some people turned up! Some I didn't even know! I love this group shot by Matt (we all look very practical!) and there's also a close-up he took of my bit, typically spidery and scrunched up in appearance. White space. I've heard of that.

It was a thursday set-up, which made it slightly tricky. I took a day off work, other people couldn't make it at all. Pretty rough on poor ellenlindner, whose artwork got lost in the post. We've all been there, but still. Annoying.


CAPTION Collective Cropped
Originally uploaded by The Glass Eye.

Then friday was a double-decker. First up Ballboy at the Ex. Ever hapless, Ballboy have nothing from their new album up on their myspace, so here's a slightly rambling podcast containing the track I want to tell you about, which is called Godzilla vs. the Island of Manhattan. I bought loads of stuff, and may have promised to live sketch at a future Swiss Concrete gig but everyone was a bit excited by the beer and the big vehicles zooming by (the Ex is on a main road) so we'll see.

Then bluedevi's party, where we all had to bring something we were proud of to show off. I brought a book adaptation project* I'd abandoned for ages, having been reminded of all the book-work when I picked an oddly-highlighted page of The Magus as the background for my self portrait for the exhibition.

Saturday I did the bookshop, which was quite quiet. There's a massive donation of vintage annuals in at the moment, if anyone's feeling the lack. I'll happily tell you what if you're interested -- but war, adventure, cars, girls, TV and classic British characters are well represented.

In the evening I went to see The Dark Knight, which (annoyingly) came without a Watchmen trailer. What I've seen online so far looks good, though how well it'll make it into the 20th Century without looking hokey ... well, we'll see. I don't have an enormous emotional investment in it, which should help! Ah, oops, should have been talking about the Batman film. Well. It's got some real wow moments, but overall left me quite cold. Something about the plot, pacing, and plausibility didn't quite cut it for me. That said, effects and ideas are very interesting. And the Joker in that red wig? Brrrrr.

anyway, enough about my weekend. Tell me about yours.

*The rude one.

P.S. Oh, and look who's back: ( kitty kitty bronco inhibitor hurl )

This also happened today:

• 17:23 Going over 90s zines pulling out bits for a subculture retrospective, old fights and fun left poignant, pointless by the telescope of time.
• 20:40 A man in his shirtsleeves on the doorstep in the rain, casually chatting while dangling football boots from one hand, an axe from the other.

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This also happened today:

• 22:52 We no fear the smell in here. There's a new song on godzilla destroying manhattan and the effect this might have on a date. We're dancing!

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An innovation in spam! The headers are now beginning to bring me news headlines that relate to stories I might want to see. True, about seventy percent of them are lies, but that's probably up there with a gossip magazine or tabloid, accuracy wise --and far less likely to send me into boiling rage, because spam is robot-generated, whereas there are actual people behind headlines like these. Informational nuggets in the spamfall, that lead me (via the medium of a quick google) to items like this exquisitely cute video of a duckling feeding carp!

Other spam headers hint at stories which are probably lies -- "FBI watching possible terrorists on Facebook". Tsk, FBI, just watching? I'm not going to take you seriously until you chuck a sheep at me, give me an egg that'll hatch into a small clip-art pterodactyl and give me some yellow roses that will mysteriously save the rainforest. Then we can talk -- well, glitter guns.

One mysterious spam headline that's been coming into the inbox is "Smoking hot model on a rampage", which is somehow quite funny (not spamusement level, but still). That one's not for googling, though -- and even if I did find out what it was referring to, I think it would be a sad disappointment.

Oh, and Happy Friday, from me and my voice recording parrot pen (who is still swearing up a storm)!

happy friday from Tourette's Parrot Today he is mostly saying BUTTOCKS!

... actually, I'm lying there. The leaflets weren't printed up, we opened with one artist's work still in transit (Royal Mail special delivery not actually that special shock), I got rained on and I had to pop out twice for more hooks. Oh pretzelled nails joy!

Still, hats off to the man andyluke, it's a fine show, and people turned up, and they seemed to have fun. Next opening is the Friday before Caption (Aug 8th) but the gallery/bar itself is open daily 10am-11pm, serves nice food and tasty beer, and the happy hour is a just-left-work friendly 5-7pm, so if you're around central Oxford do drop by and check it out. Comics on gallery walls, though --- it always seems a bit kinky to me, a bit perverse. Aren't they meant to be secret things, read in private and great detail?

Anyway, there's also this week's strip, the hurrying sky, about aspects of summer that always leave me sad.

the hurrying sky - detail I'm listening to music!

P.S. Appropriately enough (as one of the works on show is my old love letter to the spambot from nanaimo) I seem to have snagged another lovely spambot. Check out its excellent work:

Subject : toilsome otter

schoolboy binocular capsize

paginate decouple indubitable? canna, phenylalanine cavalcade.
aqueduct gules hamilton drafty hectic infix, macdougall
oresteia altercate module otter hamilton.

schoolboy plumbate.

This also happened today:

• 14:33 Exhibition set-up hits the midday bus drought. Nothing going my way but overpriced taxis. It starts raining. All my art is water-soluble.

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This also happened today:

• 09:17 Outside a darkened three storey house a broken crib put out with the rubbish plays itself a tinny electronic lullaby over and over again.

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Another fabulous fail on the househunting front, alas. More habitable than the last one, but still left suspecting that the landlord's selling it because it wouldn't pass even the least stringent of safety inspections. Dodgy electrics, crumbling plaster, puzzling gas. Damp speckling down from the ceilings around the back wall. And yet: two pianos. One of those amazing brushed steel ovens with a fish kettle burner. Luxurious accoutrements in a crumbling (albeit spacious) shell. But (given that our projected pricerange puts us between the scylla of pokiness and the charybdis of tumbledown) we might even have put in an offer ... if it hadn't been for the damp, the terrible, terrible damp.

Even if it's not about to become my local, though, does anyone fancy nipping along to the Ex to see Ballboy this Fri? I quite fancy it, but it's not really timscience's thing...

... and while we're on the subject of events, this Thu 31 July we're setting up the Caption Comics Collective* exhibition at the Old Jam Factory, and in the evening, we're having a first-night opening. There's a Facebook event thingy which I'm currently trying to steel myself to do a mass invite for, gah. Not very good at that sort of thing. Needless to say, all are most welcome.

*Matt Brooker (D'Israeli), Terry Wiley, David Baillie, Andrew Luke, Sally-Anne Hickman, Jess Bradley, Ellen Lindner, Daniel Merlin-Goodbrey (yes and me)

Oops. My camera, with its photographs of dinosaur fairy lights and Tourettes Parrot (as he has been named) are not in my bag, are presumably on Tim's coffee table where I was photographing TP. I am very tired today, but I still want to post a picture.

Ah, the other memory card, has it anything on it? Oooh, a medieval out-of-scale chicken feeding lady I found on a display board at Kendal castle!

She struck me because of the farmyard set chicken feeding lady me you and everyone had as a child who was so out of scale that chickens came up to her head and cockerels towered over her (the top picture on this page shows the toy I mean). She seems to have been replaced in modern sets by a rather Green Welly brigadish Farmer's Wife.

Anyway, Happy friday from the huge looming chicken and the nervous chicken feeding lady.

chicken feeding lady and chicken The mismatch of scale would get us every time.

This also happened today:

• 13:49 Dreamy with chocolate cake, sifting rubbish at the market for treasures from antique dealers shed-sweepings; sugar tongs, a broken dip pen.
• 20:55 Fear yourself! Says the graffiti in the toilet. Especially in the morning, someone else has appended, aaaaaaaa!

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I wonder, should I have bought cake for the office? I'm so seldom in for my birthday that I can't remember how it goes. Never mind, eh. Thanks very much to the various well wishers, I'll throw sheep at you later or something. For now, I must go find the best way to create an online flipbook for the condom - get it right booklet's online version. I'm thinking there may be more than one good answer.

Also, admiring the USB chameleon. I also have a light-up parrot-shaped pen that repeats what I say (as long at what I say isn't more than 6s long). The possibilities are -- well, expletive, mainly.

ETA: damn, that's a bit wobbly. Should have brought my gorillapod into work.

It's becoming pretty much second nature now to apologise when my pocket starts softly chiming. Today it was a mess of twitters marked #iwmw08, which I identified successfully as the Institutional Web Management Workshop 2008. I'm kind of glad I'm not at it, on reflection. My boss is keen to send me out to network. Alas, I am very, very bad at networking. Kikass could probably set me right, though. What's Kikass? It's NLP for young people. They're also offering a session at a conference I'm not going to (off topic, thankfully). Do the googling yourself if you want to watch their "taster videos" -- I found them oddly compelling, for the body language alone. Also, spotting a colleague.

But here's the real paydirt. Maverick TV were also in my inbox, looking for reality TV stars of the teenage persuasion. That link, however, takes you to their full list of reality TV "opportunities". They're looking for "diverse beauties" and I think you all qualify, for my definition of "lucky ladies" is very, very broad indeed.

Apropos of nothing, they're also after a Ruby on rails developer.

Oh hi it is monday morning, so I've decided to dull the pain with a poll about Bonekickers, the new and deeply demented BBC series about two-fisted archaeologists taking on an international conspiracy of re-enactors. It's probably available on BBC i-player if there's a hole in your life the size and shape of a foulmouthed lady academic battling batshit conspiracy theories, the press and her departmental budget.

Poll #1226932 dem bones dem bones dem thigh bones
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All

Who will sexy young black archeologist (male) sleep with?

The season finale will be at:

Who will sexy young phd student (female) sleep with?

Celebrity cameos yet to come

In the end, it will all turn out to be the fault of:

Bonekickers:

P.S. Please don't ask me if I checked out Dr Horrible, I really couldn't make it through the first five minutes. Ugh.

It is lovely to get away from it all, but the problem always arises when you come back. Here is the world, with all of its many, varied problems. Waiting for you. With a big, huge grin that says: congratulations. You are now a weekend behind. Please don't struggle on the way down.

That said, though; Kendal, what a lovely town!!! Hats off to Mum, she's picked a lovely one this time. We stayed at a lovely b+b called Balcony House, which had astonishing gardens (pitcher plants and cacti outside!), tasty breakfasts and came with free entry to a local spa (I got steamed!) -- and it was within easy wander of the river, castle, markets, organic pubs, Booths, etc.

Mum took us out to Ambleside, and, drawing on memories from her 60s visits to the Lakelands, dragged us up an unprepossessing sidestreet to an exquisite pub called the Golden Rule where we had snacks and beers enough to fortify ourselves for a wander up a classic run of waterfalls, popular since Victorian times and possessed of the ironwork to prove it -- grown into trees, where the fence had been secured many years ago. All up the waterfall (or "forces", as mum had it) new holiday homes had scabbed over the gorge sides, with tiny handkerchiefs of patio space hanging over the rapids, perfect for white noise picnics. The sun through the trees stabbed golden light at Wrens and Thrushes but no Dippers, despite mum's promises. There was a house over a river, though -- she was right about that. It had a duck under it, two Jackdaws perched on it, and a skulking juvenile Robin -- and they all wanted sandwiches.

In the evening we went out to the Mum's favourite posh foodie pub, The Sun, in Crook and we ate enough that I am still digesting, 24 hours later, as I watch the BBC proving that it is legal to hunt Jeremy Clarkson with dogs.

Holidays are good. But I'm home now.

This also happened today:

• 12:19 Clive points out the birthplace of postman pat. Mum doesn't want to go by the old castle, as now there's only an obelisk and a view.
• 13:00 Heading uphill to find a lake. Frowning fells under a lowering sky. Just gone past a cafe promising deja vu! No need to stop there I think.

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This also happened today:

• 09:56 Goldfinch sharpening its beak on a powerline. Stop, the road says, in big yellow letters. I look for my bus, look back and it has flown.
• 18:52 Trying on the controversy in m&s. Made in sri lanka the labels say. The nice red bra in the sea of mimsy pinks is as usual almost sold out.

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I asked timscience what he thought should be done about the scandalous cost of big bras (having noticed the Boobs 4 Justice teacupstorm wimbling across my friendslist) and he suggested making them cheaper by using less material, so that they become more diaphanous and flimsier. Methinks I hear the voice of self interest there.

Speaking of bras, the photographer from the midsummer ball just got round to uploading his also rans (I didn't make it into his top 100, which will teach me to wear a high neck dress). Check out special midsummer masquerade Jeremy! With pint of ale, mobile phone, and oh, a photograph I didn't notice being taken. Deluxe version comes with horsedrawn carriage, Baileys over ice and says "Let us in we're disabled!" to night porters when startled by Salisbury squaddies.

Oh, and to the 1.5 people who might be interested, here's a house. It'll certainly go before we can get out purchase requirement ducks into even a vague row, but it's nice, isn't it? You're looking at the slice o' brie shaped corner plot. We also saw a small place with a heavily overlooked garden, a broken boiler, and a cenobite in the corner of the kitchen which was, well, less enticing.

The estate agent recognised me from last time. For a moment she didn't know what to say. Fortunately, the house we were looking round contained a small and adorable rescue parrot called Alex, who broke the ice with a cheeky whistle.

Other people have already stamped on the relic-filled grave of the rampantly silly Bonekickers, so I'll not keep you long with any insightful analysis, but I must just point out that the maverick archaeology team exposing the delightfully decorative bones at the heart of our deeply beloved, Templar-stuffed, police free merrie England appears to be led by none other than juggzy*, ably assisted by swisstone**. They also seem to have a couple of childrens' television presenters on their team, but that's probabaly just to win over the tweenies and the slash fans. I'm looking forward to future episodes starring uitlander as a modern-day devotee of some cat beetle god from Africa, and oxyrhyncite turning up for an episode where they need a motorbike to get the Holy Grail (or is it???) across St Michael's Mount causeway before the tide comes in and the Templars... actually, I never did figure out what it was the Templars were going to do when they found the true cross. Put it on television, probably. Anyway, juggzy should watch out, as her crazy mum is quite clearly mad Doctor Helen from Primeval, so she should stop worrying about sexy grad students penetrating her astro-archaeological cave of crazy and get in some good defences against dodos with brain parasites.

I'm quite a fan of the "is it, isn't it?" type supernatural drama, but usually find them too slow moving to avoid foundering in the quagmire of the silly. This one might still go down, but for them moment it's surfing along quite nicely.

*In a rather nice dark dye job. Looks good on you!
**He gets to wear the hat.