Thank you kindly to the guys at Sell Sell for sending me a free t-shirt. I love free t-shirts. When I get sent them I’ll blog about them or Tweet them or whatever. I’m a free t-shirt-whore-blogger.
Here’s the t-shirt they sent:
I don’t know why it is, but I find swearwords on t-shirts incredibly offensive. So much so that I couldn’t blog the picture without blanking them out. Which is really strange because I don’t mind a bit of colourful language in real life. I use it on my blog. I use it on Twitter. But I feel like there’s something just really crass and vile about sweary t-shirts. Or maybe I’m just becoming a prude.
I guess it’s the fact that your swearyness is being imposed on other people. In the same way I don’t like people shouting swears on the street. But if someone has opted in to the odd swearword through following me on Twitter then I have slightly less reservations about it.
I don’t want to appear ungrateful. But at the same time I suppose I am being really ungrateful. Oh, and whilst I’m in full-on ungrateful git mode: XL is really massive (for anyone wishing to send me any kind of t-shirt medium is a good bet – the Poke address is as good a place as any to mail things).
This t-shirt actually makes me feel sorry for Jonathan from Spotify. I don’t like the idea of people hating him this much. I liked light-hearted ribbing of him – and calling him a Croc-Wearer, is about as far as his crime goes in my book. This t-shirt based fatwa is a step too far.
Jonathan, if it makes you feel any better I won’t be wearing this t-shirt.
Sorry Sell Sell guys. But thanks for the t-shirt. It was a lovely and kind gesture. I’m sure there will be people who like the t-shirt, and some of them might hopefully see it here.
On Saturday evenings at roundabout 6pm on BBC is my favourite new TV show. It’s called Walk on the Wild Side. The premise is very very simple. It’s people doing funny voiceovers on top of lovely nature footage.
It’s the shorter simpler ones that work best for me I feel like some of the longer, more involved ones just unravel a bit sometimes.
Perhaps I love it because it reminds me of Animal Magic from my childhood:
Or maybe I love it because it’s just bloody brilliant.
Aside from “Alan” the other sketch that has me in stitches are the scratching badgers (if you’ve not seen it that will mean nothing).
I don’t know what’s happened. My inner reading voice changed. It wasn’t intentional. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did. It’s as if someone stole the old one and did a switcheroo.
Thankfully now I’m writing a bog-standard blog post it’s changed back to normal. As I write (and re-read) this the voice that speaks the words back in my head sounds reassuringly like me (actually it sounds more like how I’d like to sound rather than how I actually do).
The funny ‘internal-reader’ theft happened in the middle of writing up an idea for a client. It’s not a particularly grand idea, not in the grander scheme of grand things anyhow. But I guess if I’m being honest I suppose I was writing it with a bit of pomp to set things up. I went back to the beginning, to skim what I’d written, and all of a sudden I could hear bloody Morgan Freeman reading my words back to me.
He was using his ‘March of the Penguins’ voice rather than his ‘Shawshank’ – so at least he’d had the decency to pick the right voice for the job. I wonder how much he’d cost to actually come and do the presentation for me? I think he might just sway it…
It’s a simple full-page 2-frame animation. It’s for a good-cause-style-website. But that doesn’t make it any better. It’s vile interruptive advertising of the worst sort. What really bugs me is that it’ll show loads of impressions and probably get a whole bunch of clickthroughs in the short term. But that doesn’t make it right.
Just say no!
Interestingly if you visit the same page on the web and click the read more link there’s no such ad…
Last year I blogged about the idea of doing something a bit similar. But this lovely chap took a different (much better and more realistic) approach, and made something that really works. It’s been compared to the awesome Kutiman Thru-You stuff. But it is very different. People have sent these pieces in to be a part of something collaborative. And it puts you in control in a lovely lo-fi way.
This was the ground outside the Accident and Emergency Department of The Royal Sussex Hospital in Brighton. You may be able to spot:
Discarded frilly pants
A number of cigarette butts (it’s a No Smoking area)
A bit of unidentified brown
The reality of hospitals is very different from what I’ve imagined they were like for years. I’ve been really lucky in not having to spend much time in hospitals in my life. In my head hospitals were full of people with saucepans stuck on their heads. Or kids having their tonsils out. In reality it isn’t like that. It’s full of lots of people who look really sick. Grey people wheeling their drips outside so they can gasp a fag.
So far it’s been a pretty good week. Eleanor and Josie got demoted (or promoted, I’m not sure which) into Nursery 2 – where the care is a little bit less intensive. And in theory the number of beeps coming out of the machines is slightly lower. It’s still pretty bleepy though. Imagine a room with 8 machines like this one all going off at the same time.
It’s odd but you get used to it. Your brain starts to filter it out. And you start to hear only the things inside the gaps.
I’m not sure what the constant bleeping is going to do to our musical tastes, or the musical taste of our girls. Oddly, I have noticed that I’ve not been listening to any minimal techno this week. I think anything that involves electronic noises that could have been generated by a medical instrument might find its way off my playlist in the short term. Maybe in years to come I’ll find it strangely comforting and nostalgic. Who knows?
Anyway that’s a digression from my transition into full-on baby bore…
So, Eleanor and Josie are in nursery 2 now. I’ve done that bit. They’re drinking mum’s milk through tubes and they’re starting to put on weight. They’re still tiny and covered in wires and probes. But the numbers of tubes seem to be decreasing slowly. Which is great. And the best thing of all, is that it means that we’re able to take them out of the incubators for a cuddle for a couple of hours a day.
‘Cuddle’ is one of ‘those’ words. A word that I never thought I’d be able to write in public. The fact I can is symbolic of the massive level of change that this whole experience has brought about.
Here’s a picture of me and Sophie with the girls out of the incubator. Sorry about the lack of clothes. We’re in a special nudists ward where they’re banned. That’s just how things are done in Brighton.
Seriously (if you’re interested) the real reason is because skin to skin contact with parents has proved to be a massive contributing factor in accelerating development of premature babies – it’s called Kangaroo Care – and besides we do have clothes on under the sheets.
It’s fantastic that it’s good for the twins, I’m certain that it’s good for their parents. Holding them like this makes everything in the world seem like it’s going to be OK. Here’s hoping that the next few weeks are as good as this one…
You’ll have noticed that I’ve totally decided to ignore what I’d said before about not turning this into a dad-blog. I got so many lovely, wonderful supportive emails that suggested I shouldn’t be shy about posting this stuff that I’ve decided to give in to popular opinion. Plus it’s impossible for me to think about much else right now.
There’s also preliminary but tantalizing evidence that fatherhood can change the brain.
Yes! See. It’s not my fault.
A 2006 study found enhancements in the prefrontal cortex of the father marmoset. After childbirth, the neurons in this region showed greater connectivity, suggesting that having young children could boost the part of the brain responsible for planning and memory…
Oh, that’s not quite what I was looking for. Never mind…
And one last thing for the baby fans, here they are…