For the past 5 days, TOH has been having trouble with the Norton AntiVirus Helpdesk. It had gotten to the point that it is so bad it's started affecting me. So of course I had to blog about it. Because yes, I am going somewhere with my (seemingly) disjointed rants.
TOH's computer woes started when a worm got past Norton AntiVirus' version 2. Which necessitated a call to their Helpdesk; a techie comes along, sorts it out and all is supposed to be well. And in a few hours the problems start again. TOH's computer starts running slower then stops dead. So the calls to the Helpdesk start again. 13 calls later, TOH has accumulated 10 priority numbers, spoken to 13 techies, repeated the case history 13 times, and seen the computer die each time. Techies went into TOH's registry and modified it, then suggested TOH upgrade to version 3 and taken TOH's money for it. This is where good faith and desperation can be the undoing of you. Because after AV v3 went in, the shit really hit the fan.
Now several days and daily phone calls later, TOH's computer is worse off than when the first call to the Helpdesk was made. The techies started suggesting it was due to clashes with other software on the computer, so they started uninstalling other stuff. The problem persisted and the case was passed up to the 'elite team' who were apparently defeated by it all. Because in the end, they started telling TOH that it wasn't a Norton problem. Never mind TOH's numerous reiterations that there were never any software clashes with the older version of Norton AV.
The long & short of it? TOH manages to speak to a manager who says the same thing; essentially, it's not Norton's problem. No matter that a virus got past their AntiVirus software, no matter that their support team had a hand in disabling a computer; they simply said, oh well, it's not our fault, guv, you'll have to sort it out yourself now - and walk away.
No mention of apology for the inability to resolve an issue (because they refused to acknowledge it). No mention that they took somebody's money for software that isn't usable or even the offer of a refund. No mention of having taken someone's time up - because most nights TOH was on the phone to them until 03:00 AM, which seriously screwed up my sleep patterns. But that isn't Norton's problem, is it?
I am accepting of human fraility. I can understand not being able to solve every problem in the world. But do you have to pretend it isn't there? Feign having had no hand in exacerbating a situation? Wouldn't it be better to accept defeat gracefully and try to placate the customer somehow? Because turning around at this point and acting like it's the customer's fault is only going to piss them off even further.
And while I may have no problem with placing technical support services in areas where costs are low, I have every issue with Helpdesk personnel who are (a) supercilious, (b) do not listen to and talk over the customer while they are explaining the problem, and (c) do not man up and acknowledge their shortcomings and don't even make any concessions to the damage left in their wake. That sums up as unhelpful and a shitty attitude in my book. I understand that they may be faced with a lot of customers who are barely computer literate, but that does not mean that ALL their customers are in the same boat. And even then, so what? Does that justify giving people attitude? Isn't there a clue in the word 'HELPdesk'??
What they don't seem to realise is that theirs is essentially a customer-facing role. They are the voice of Norton AntiVirus that I have indavertently been listening to for the past 5 days. Most companies may not have a face anymore in these days of remote working, but their employees are still the embodiment of their company values.
And this time, the embodiment of Norton AntiVirus has demonstrated that Norton only wants our money but doesn't give a shit about me or TOH. Symantec, your values suck. Ease of doing business with you? A big fat ZERO.
So in this case, the letter P could stand for.... plonkers? Phucking passholes?
Showing posts with label Moanmoanmoan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Moanmoanmoan. Show all posts
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
Wednesday, 16 December 2009
Borrowed Musings, #1: Me, me, me and mine
Reading over @bonsaibanter's Tweets (or Twitterings, whichever term you'd prefer to use - most likely neither) reminded me of conversations I've had with Teacher-san on the differences between the philosophies that drive Eastern and Western Art. Of course these are gross generalisations that I put down here, and I'm sure someone will call to my attention that to every rule there is an exception. So, point taken - I'm not stating any rules here.
Teacher-san's guideline is to '...see how the tree wants to grow and work with that, not against it'. His observation was that in Japanese bonsai, the tree is the most important part of the creative work; the artist takes second place. Essentially he is the temporary vessel charged with the care of this particular tree during his lifetime. It's pretty much an accepted fact that - unless he buggers it up completely - the tree will outlive him and pass on to the hands of another artist who will go on to leave his imprint on the tree. And so on ad infinitum.
Western Art tends to be primarily about the artist showcasing himself and his talent, so the artist's work would tend to be a statement of how creative / clever / avant-garde he is. I think this outlook spills over into Western hobbies (like bonsai), especially when there is a clash of me, me, me's. And then it becomes all-out war.
@bonsaibanter wondered why '...the gentle pursuit of bonsai attracts so many negative people. Perhaps it is easier to be destructive than constructive which is a contradiction really seeing that creativity lies at the heart of bonsai. Or perhaps it is merely human nature and this behaviour occurs in all types of hobby groups. Perhaps bonsai just attracts stressed out people who then vent their frustrations on those around them.'
There's a lot of truth in those observations, IMHO. What I do wonder though, is - it's a frickin' HOBBY, dudes! Is it worth ruining friendly relations for? Get a life.
Teacher-san's guideline is to '...see how the tree wants to grow and work with that, not against it'. His observation was that in Japanese bonsai, the tree is the most important part of the creative work; the artist takes second place. Essentially he is the temporary vessel charged with the care of this particular tree during his lifetime. It's pretty much an accepted fact that - unless he buggers it up completely - the tree will outlive him and pass on to the hands of another artist who will go on to leave his imprint on the tree. And so on ad infinitum.
Western Art tends to be primarily about the artist showcasing himself and his talent, so the artist's work would tend to be a statement of how creative / clever / avant-garde he is. I think this outlook spills over into Western hobbies (like bonsai), especially when there is a clash of me, me, me's. And then it becomes all-out war.
@bonsaibanter wondered why '...the gentle pursuit of bonsai attracts so many negative people. Perhaps it is easier to be destructive than constructive which is a contradiction really seeing that creativity lies at the heart of bonsai. Or perhaps it is merely human nature and this behaviour occurs in all types of hobby groups. Perhaps bonsai just attracts stressed out people who then vent their frustrations on those around them.'
There's a lot of truth in those observations, IMHO. What I do wonder though, is - it's a frickin' HOBBY, dudes! Is it worth ruining friendly relations for? Get a life.
Borrowed Musings, #2: Egos and Agendas
This phrase stuck in my head during a talk with another bonsai buddy on the turmoil surrounding British bonsai at the moment. I claim no originality on this turn of phrase whatsoever. That belongs to my mate.
But it does describe what to me seems to be the Number 2 Root of All Evils in the 21st century (the love of money being the Biblical Number 1, in case the allusion slips you by). Especially in places in the West where the social structure can preclude the need for an income for those who wish to milk it in that way. But let's not go down that route...
So where am I going with these musings? Once upon a time, I would've expected that the law of the jungle ended within the workplace; one could then go home and de-stress with a nice cuppa (or a G&T even) and possibly get away from it all with a nice, creative hobby like painting or bonsai. Not anymore. The cutthroat attitude now extends to supremacy in the hobbysphere, I guess. Or must one now reign supreme over everything - the hobbies, the kids, the in-laws, the pets, the golf buddies? Or else, what? A loss of face, a drastic decline in self-actualisation?
So simplistically speaking - could this have something to do with compensating for the loss of status in the workplace? Or similar? Now that could lead to another random musing, like, should retirement be banned altogether as being hazardous to your neighbour's health and well-being? Except that, I know lots of retirees who do bonsai, and not all of them are striving to climb up any status ladder of any bonsai-ic description. Or perhaps psychological profiling should be done before people are allowed to leave the workplace? Sounds like a really unpopular platform to me.....
But it does describe what to me seems to be the Number 2 Root of All Evils in the 21st century (the love of money being the Biblical Number 1, in case the allusion slips you by). Especially in places in the West where the social structure can preclude the need for an income for those who wish to milk it in that way. But let's not go down that route...
So where am I going with these musings? Once upon a time, I would've expected that the law of the jungle ended within the workplace; one could then go home and de-stress with a nice cuppa (or a G&T even) and possibly get away from it all with a nice, creative hobby like painting or bonsai. Not anymore. The cutthroat attitude now extends to supremacy in the hobbysphere, I guess. Or must one now reign supreme over everything - the hobbies, the kids, the in-laws, the pets, the golf buddies? Or else, what? A loss of face, a drastic decline in self-actualisation?
So simplistically speaking - could this have something to do with compensating for the loss of status in the workplace? Or similar? Now that could lead to another random musing, like, should retirement be banned altogether as being hazardous to your neighbour's health and well-being? Except that, I know lots of retirees who do bonsai, and not all of them are striving to climb up any status ladder of any bonsai-ic description. Or perhaps psychological profiling should be done before people are allowed to leave the workplace? Sounds like a really unpopular platform to me.....
But... what's wrong with having an ego?
Nothing really, as far as I'm concerned.
In fact, it would be really worrying if one didn't have one, I suspect.
But whatever happened to the win-win situations and the not treading on other people's toes? Or the 'do unto others what you would have them do unto you' sort of deals? Don't those count for anything anymore?
In fact, it would be really worrying if one didn't have one, I suspect.
But whatever happened to the win-win situations and the not treading on other people's toes? Or the 'do unto others what you would have them do unto you' sort of deals? Don't those count for anything anymore?
Friday, 4 December 2009
Thought #1
While organising my thoughts on my RantyRantyRant (should I brand it Triple R?), it occurred to me that 'things' are very easy to break. Like dropping glasses or plates.
More 'nebulous things', like interpersonal relationships, take a longer time to break - these are sort of a cumulation of incidents that build one on top of another. And when the straw hits the camel's back, it breaks anyway. As broken as plates.
Sometimes, broken 'things' are easier to mend. On the other hand, who wants to eat off plates glued together?
But mending more 'nebulous things', like interpersonal relationships? In my experience, this often happens as the result of either a lot of time, an extreme amount of drama, or both. And who in the world likes drama?
* Shudder *
More 'nebulous things', like interpersonal relationships, take a longer time to break - these are sort of a cumulation of incidents that build one on top of another. And when the straw hits the camel's back, it breaks anyway. As broken as plates.
Sometimes, broken 'things' are easier to mend. On the other hand, who wants to eat off plates glued together?
But mending more 'nebulous things', like interpersonal relationships? In my experience, this often happens as the result of either a lot of time, an extreme amount of drama, or both. And who in the world likes drama?
* Shudder *
Thought #2
So broken 'things' don't always get mended because it's become cheaper to replace them. Unless we're talking priceless antiques.
But what about broken 'nebulous things' (yep, still thinking interpersonal relationships) - since these aren't priceless antiques and since we tend to avoid drama at all costs, do they just sort of get left alone to fester? In the hope that time heals all wounds?
Or more to the point, in the hope that people will forget and move on, as they often do.
My feeling has always been, it's the coward's way out to rely on the shortness of people's memory. Grow a pair and admit your shortcomings, dammit. And fix things.
Interpersonal or otherwise.
But what about broken 'nebulous things' (yep, still thinking interpersonal relationships) - since these aren't priceless antiques and since we tend to avoid drama at all costs, do they just sort of get left alone to fester? In the hope that time heals all wounds?
Or more to the point, in the hope that people will forget and move on, as they often do.
My feeling has always been, it's the coward's way out to rely on the shortness of people's memory. Grow a pair and admit your shortcomings, dammit. And fix things.
Interpersonal or otherwise.
And this proves what?
That I can string more than one thought together, of course.
Duh.
And as @bonsaibanter told me today, it's all a question about cost and how much we value things.
Interpersonal or otherwise.
Duh.
And as @bonsaibanter told me today, it's all a question about cost and how much we value things.
Interpersonal or otherwise.
Thursday, 3 December 2009
The Calm before the Storm
This here is an unhappy bunny getting ready to give a good rant. But before I incinerate anyone, I may as well break up the multitudinous lines of text with a few pretty pics.
One of several Camellias in the garden that we will never convert into a bonsai. Why? Check out the size of its leaves and the flower. Not unless the bonsai is going to be 4-foot tall. And we already have one of those (and no, that bonsai is not a Camellia, it's a yamadori Scots Pine). AFAIK, nothing will reduce the size of that flower - no matter how small the pot you put it in, no matter how little food you give it. And if you are starving your bonsai you ought to be ashamed of yourself. (Although I suppose we could get into a technical discussion about whether plants really 'eat' or not....)
And on the other end of the scale, here's a 2-year old Blackberry (Rubus fructicosus) accent plant that self-seeded itself in the garden (yes, thank you blackbirds) and is about 3 in / 18 cm including the pot.
OK, so the lay-out artist in me is satisfied. Back to my fuming and fulminating in my corner here....
Saturday, 21 November 2009
How A5 really sticks in my craw
Got another club newsletter in the post today, which made a nice light read with my morning coffee. So now that the coffee's gone and the reading content has been digested from cover to cover - what do I do with the newsletter?
I always feel guilty about chucking these things in the bin since I am supremely conscious of the amount of effort it has taken to put a newsletter together. Often the editor works on his own and has to beg, borrow and cajole information out of people just to make enough 'news' to fill a decent number of pages. Often there just isn't enough new material to make a regular journal interesting, which is a constant battle for the editor especially when this is part of a membership package. Often the newsletter is the most visible part of the benefits of being a member of an association, so the appearance of its value-add is even more important.
And not only is there the gathering-of-information chore, there is the laying-out-and-formatting-the-information chore on top of that. Then printing. And postage. Sticking on all those labels. Stuffing into envelopes. Queueing at the post office. All on one person's head. Thank God for admin people, is all I can say (and I did, in this post).
So while I am very conscious of the editor's hard graft, I still am stuck with several issues in various formats (single sheet A4, A4s folded into A5 and stapled together, whatever) lying around my home in various piles. Some of the information is useful (display, grafting, taking cuttings, etc) therefore nice to keep on hand as reference. But accessing reference material at a later date would mean some sort of efficient archival system. Who the hell thinks of that after reading a newsletter with their morning coffee? More to the point, who would even have the time to do that? And for every single club paper they receive? Daunting, dudes, daunting.
But why can't all this go on a website, locked in a Restricted Member Access section if necessary? Then subscribers can just look this all up online without having storage and retrieval issues. Added value too for new members - they now have access to issues that pre-date their membership. Admittedly the work gets shifted onto another admin person (let's hear it for the website people out there) - at least for the initial set-up - but I believe the long-term benefits outweigh the downsides. Keep the club costs down and use the dosh for something else.
I believe there are some societies already doing that; kudos to their governing bodies for being forward-thinking, and kudos to the membership for taking the plunge with them.
And yes, there also are (what is steadily becoming) a minority of people who don't have Internet access and who have no intentions of going down that route. I also believe the club should have hardcopy provision for these people. My belief is that clubs should be a disseminator of information, and if hardcopy is what it takes, then so be it.
But at the very least, let paper be an option rather than a default.
And while I'm at it - to all the club people out there who are sat on their nice cushy sofas enjoying their membership benefits: try pulling a finger out and at least submit photos of your trees (or plants or whatever) to your newsletter editor. Or send in questions. Your thoughts to questions. Whatever. Think they don't need newsletter contributions? Well, when was the last time you asked what they need??? If you've read this far, then you will hopefully have realised there are people out there who would probably welcome your contribution. Or have you even thought about it while reading your newsletter with your morning coffee? SHAME ON YOU.
There. Because I couldn't really go this far in the year without offending anyone, could I? Hurrrr.
I always feel guilty about chucking these things in the bin since I am supremely conscious of the amount of effort it has taken to put a newsletter together. Often the editor works on his own and has to beg, borrow and cajole information out of people just to make enough 'news' to fill a decent number of pages. Often there just isn't enough new material to make a regular journal interesting, which is a constant battle for the editor especially when this is part of a membership package. Often the newsletter is the most visible part of the benefits of being a member of an association, so the appearance of its value-add is even more important.
And not only is there the gathering-of-information chore, there is the laying-out-and-formatting-the-information chore on top of that. Then printing. And postage. Sticking on all those labels. Stuffing into envelopes. Queueing at the post office. All on one person's head. Thank God for admin people, is all I can say (and I did, in this post).
So while I am very conscious of the editor's hard graft, I still am stuck with several issues in various formats (single sheet A4, A4s folded into A5 and stapled together, whatever) lying around my home in various piles. Some of the information is useful (display, grafting, taking cuttings, etc) therefore nice to keep on hand as reference. But accessing reference material at a later date would mean some sort of efficient archival system. Who the hell thinks of that after reading a newsletter with their morning coffee? More to the point, who would even have the time to do that? And for every single club paper they receive? Daunting, dudes, daunting.
But why can't all this go on a website, locked in a Restricted Member Access section if necessary? Then subscribers can just look this all up online without having storage and retrieval issues. Added value too for new members - they now have access to issues that pre-date their membership. Admittedly the work gets shifted onto another admin person (let's hear it for the website people out there) - at least for the initial set-up - but I believe the long-term benefits outweigh the downsides. Keep the club costs down and use the dosh for something else.
I believe there are some societies already doing that; kudos to their governing bodies for being forward-thinking, and kudos to the membership for taking the plunge with them.
And yes, there also are (what is steadily becoming) a minority of people who don't have Internet access and who have no intentions of going down that route. I also believe the club should have hardcopy provision for these people. My belief is that clubs should be a disseminator of information, and if hardcopy is what it takes, then so be it.
But at the very least, let paper be an option rather than a default.
And while I'm at it - to all the club people out there who are sat on their nice cushy sofas enjoying their membership benefits: try pulling a finger out and at least submit photos of your trees (or plants or whatever) to your newsletter editor. Or send in questions. Your thoughts to questions. Whatever. Think they don't need newsletter contributions? Well, when was the last time you asked what they need??? If you've read this far, then you will hopefully have realised there are people out there who would probably welcome your contribution. Or have you even thought about it while reading your newsletter with your morning coffee? SHAME ON YOU.
There. Because I couldn't really go this far in the year without offending anyone, could I? Hurrrr.
Saturday, 14 November 2009
Howling Wind Casualty
This accent plant, a hardy Geranium in a Lotus pot was the first (and hopefully, the only) casualty of the strong wind we've been having all day today. We've had this plant a long, long time - it's one of the first accent plants TOH ever put together. The whole thing stood about 3 in / 8 cm from the base of the pot. Said pot has now gone the way of Humpty Dumpty.
I suppose this is where you're supposed to make lemonade when life gives you lemons. I'd been saying for a long while that I'd like to convert this plant into a kusamono ball, but the thought of having to hoik it up out of the pot had put me off - THAT is the hassle with strongly incurved pots.
Well I won't have that trouble now, will I?
Just as well I took photos of the geranium while it was in a pot, I guess.
But being me, I always have to look at the other side of the coin; which is, where am I going to get another cheap Lotus pot like the one that got broken?
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
Autumn Colour, yet again
Looks like more autumnal pics are coming out of the garden after all.
We're still having this mixed sort of weather, with sun one day and rain the next. The temperatures are still rather mild, which means that a lot of trees are still green and growing while others are starting to let out the ZZZ's.
Here's a pic I took of this Toad Lily (Tricyrtis) in the summer. You can just see a bit of the maple in the edges.
And here it is again in the autumn, flanked by a fern and the same Japanese Mountain Maple. Whether the Toad Lily should still be in flower in October is anyone's guess.
And this little guy is a Field Maple (Acer campestre). The contrast between the yellow leaves and the little red Walsall pot is nothing if not charming, if I may say so myself. It's been in training for about 2 years now - still a long way to go in the ramification area, though. The planting is about 5 in /13 cm high from base of pot.
And this is a shohin Cotoneaster which hasn't got a lot of berries this year. It stands around 6 in /15.2 cm from the base of the pot. We've had this guy a long time. The pot was purchased at the 2007 EBA Convention in Belgium and is by a lady Danish potter whose name escapes me and whose website I forgot to bookmark. Slapped wrists!
I'm not one for naming my trees (sorry, just not my thing) but this guy is an exception - given that his pot looks vaguely like a Viking boat. So Bjorn he is, when I can be bothered to remember.
And although I don't give names to my bonsai, all my compost bins have names. Go figure.
But that is another post for another time. If you can twist my arm. I dare you.
We're still having this mixed sort of weather, with sun one day and rain the next. The temperatures are still rather mild, which means that a lot of trees are still green and growing while others are starting to let out the ZZZ's.
Here's a pic I took of this Toad Lily (Tricyrtis) in the summer. You can just see a bit of the maple in the edges.
And here it is again in the autumn, flanked by a fern and the same Japanese Mountain Maple. Whether the Toad Lily should still be in flower in October is anyone's guess.
And this little guy is a Field Maple (Acer campestre). The contrast between the yellow leaves and the little red Walsall pot is nothing if not charming, if I may say so myself. It's been in training for about 2 years now - still a long way to go in the ramification area, though. The planting is about 5 in /13 cm high from base of pot.
And this is a shohin Cotoneaster which hasn't got a lot of berries this year. It stands around 6 in /15.2 cm from the base of the pot. We've had this guy a long time. The pot was purchased at the 2007 EBA Convention in Belgium and is by a lady Danish potter whose name escapes me and whose website I forgot to bookmark. Slapped wrists!I'm not one for naming my trees (sorry, just not my thing) but this guy is an exception - given that his pot looks vaguely like a Viking boat. So Bjorn he is, when I can be bothered to remember.
And although I don't give names to my bonsai, all my compost bins have names. Go figure.
But that is another post for another time. If you can twist my arm. I dare you.
Friday, 23 October 2009
Another day in the life of...
Or shall we say the continuing saga of the travails of a bonsai grower? Here's an update on all the plants and stuff you've seen so far.
The grapes in this post are still hanging in their bunches and aren't quite ripe yet. We are near the end of October, you guys. Hurry up and get a move on. If this rain continues, all I'll have are big bunches of mildew hanging on that pergola.
The rose in this pot got knocked over by the guy doing some work on the garden. Pot and bonsai are intact. Phew! A yamadori Scots Pine suffered the same fate and its Northern Chinese training pot is now Humpty Dumpty.
This buttercup and a couple of his cousins think it is spring (I told you this weather is screwed up). As they are now out in leaf - alright, they are sheltered in a cold frame - I suppose they are going to stay that way until the REAL spring arrives (that's 2010 to you).
As mentioned in the earlier post, the seven-lobed maple is now denuded. Billie the fat bonsai cat has been upstaged by a kitten and is establishing territory and the ground rules. Neither feline is mine.
The Cyclamen we use as accent plants self-seed every year in the strangest places - into the gravel inside the greenhouse, under the leaf litter on the bonsai staging, everywhere. This year it's between the patio paving slabs. I've dug up a couple (of Cyclamen, not the paving slabs - doh) and put them into thimble pots, a bit like these ones here.
The blackbirds are still uprooting all the moss and liverwort they can find. Between them and the cat crap all over the flower beds, it's enough to make one consider violence. Grrrr.
The grapes in this post are still hanging in their bunches and aren't quite ripe yet. We are near the end of October, you guys. Hurry up and get a move on. If this rain continues, all I'll have are big bunches of mildew hanging on that pergola.
The rose in this pot got knocked over by the guy doing some work on the garden. Pot and bonsai are intact. Phew! A yamadori Scots Pine suffered the same fate and its Northern Chinese training pot is now Humpty Dumpty.
This buttercup and a couple of his cousins think it is spring (I told you this weather is screwed up). As they are now out in leaf - alright, they are sheltered in a cold frame - I suppose they are going to stay that way until the REAL spring arrives (that's 2010 to you).
As mentioned in the earlier post, the seven-lobed maple is now denuded. Billie the fat bonsai cat has been upstaged by a kitten and is establishing territory and the ground rules. Neither feline is mine.
The Cyclamen we use as accent plants self-seed every year in the strangest places - into the gravel inside the greenhouse, under the leaf litter on the bonsai staging, everywhere. This year it's between the patio paving slabs. I've dug up a couple (of Cyclamen, not the paving slabs - doh) and put them into thimble pots, a bit like these ones here.
The blackbirds are still uprooting all the moss and liverwort they can find. Between them and the cat crap all over the flower beds, it's enough to make one consider violence. Grrrr.
Saturday, 3 October 2009
Bonsai vs Grapes: The Garden Wars
So what exactly did the summer bring me? Trouble & strife in the garden, is what. All under the leafy shade of the pergola where several bonsai maples, a couple of yews and rather a few Satsuki azaleas were quietly minding their own business.Which of course the grape vine was doing as well.
Except, when the interests of the two groups collide, then we have - the vegetative Clash of the Titans. You got it.
After all, some would say the whole of Nature is just one big fight for territorial dominance. And as the photos taken a few weeks ago show, this corner of the garden was no exception.
The Kiyohime maple is visible in the top photo, and a few seven-lobed Japanese maple leaves (we are still trying to identify the variety) are barely visible in the foreground.
One of the yews is in the rear of the photo. And the big ole grape vine is just protecting these guys from the wind and the scorching sun. Not that that's stopped the Kiyohime from leaf burn this summer.The grape vine was planted about five years ago, and it started seriously producing fruit in abundance last year. The second photo shows the other side of the pergola, where the grape bunches are a lot fuller, given the lack of competition for light, space or air.
Third photo along just goes to show what a little good weather can do for ripening fruit. Although, the Med we are not... yet.
The freakish sunny weather that hung around for most of September and into the first days of October has seen a lot of late spurts of growth in the bonsai and kusamono.
Most of the maples in the garden are still in full leaf. The seven-lobed maple was the first to go into glorious autumn colour and is now starting to lose its leaves. All the other maples have ignored it and are doing their own thing, i.e. growing like crazy. A few lazy sods like the chaenomeles and wisteria have just rolled over and are now doing the plant equivalent of snoring their heads off.Bonsai shows have slowed down a bit in this part of the world. Our local societies have done a few appearances in conjunction with local craft & trade fairs - which I feel is a very good thing. Better to bring the word to the general public rather than preach to the converted.
Last photo shows the seven-lobed maple as it started to turn into its autumn colour. There's still a lot of work that needs to go into this tree before it's even remotely show-ready. The ramification is nondescript and the crown of the tree is blah. So all it has to recommend itself at this point is a few
weeks of fiery display. Of course, it keeps getting bombarded by falling grapes, which sort of cuts the autumn display time down by quite a bit as well.Nothing like getting clonked on the head by some rotting fruit to get your status in life in perspective, is what I say.
So what's in store for the grapes? Not wine, in any case. For nothing am I rolling out the oak barrels to tread on these suckers barefoot. But apparently they are quite good eating grapes, so there you go.
Monday, 20 July 2009
When brown is not brown is not brown...
Okay, so maybe I got out of the wrong side of bed this morning. Or maybe I'm just a hard taskmaster. Or even a perpetual grump. Or all of the above. Does that surprise you? If you've been dropping by regularly, are you here because of the rants or because of the pretty pics? Be honest now...
And to be fair, negativism on its own, without any means of redemption, is just one big let-down. May as well watch the evening news. So where I can offer what I believe to be a light at the end of a tunnel, I will do so. Beats watching the Beeb, right? Must be worth more than what we pay for our TV licence anyway.
That out of the way, let's get on with the gripes.
In a previous post, I talked about what I'd look for when deciding whether or not one of my trees would be good enough to put out on show. This post is all about the opposite - what I so do not want to see in a bonsai display.
Having been to several international shows for at least the past 8 years and local club shows for even longer than that, there are some things that have started to wear me down, making me more and more fastidious (AKA bloody nit-pickety) in my appreciation of bonsai display. So here I come to my BIG PET PEEVES when it comes to presentation of trees. No holds barred, OK? Tune out now if you are of a tender disposition.
Putting out an unfinished product. Unless we are dealing with a display which shows bonsai under development, I really don't believe trees with obvious signs of 'Work In Progress' should be put on show, especially when the show is about the best you have to offer. Defoliated branches sticking out, guy-wires big enough to support a cathedral, enough wire to deter even Houdini... you get the picture, right? My answer to this is: leave the poor tree at home to get on with the business of growing. Have enough trees so that you can rotate those that need a holiday with those that are primped within an inch of their lives. Then do vice versa next year.
Messy, dirty-looking topdressing. This merits a big I HATE YOU. Get rid of the weeds, dudes. And unless you can sympathetically marry any adventitious plants into the overall composition, get rid of them too. It's generally obvious when things have self-sown themselves into the soil and you just can't be assed to get rid of the buggers. (OK, I have seen some get lucky - but they are a MINORITY.) And if the soil is looking tired & unhealthy, full of the ugly bubbly algae, bloody do something about that too. Cover with moss. Possibly fine akadama. Or do you need new glasses? Whatever.
Distracting topdressing. As opposed to the above (which is soil that hasn't been primped), this is soil which has been well laid out but screamingly calls attention to itself. The purpose of the display is to make people view the tree as an integrated whole. I've seen bonsai on show where my attention kept being drawn back to the topdressing, either because of colour or texture. Go for something discreet, not the highly colourful stuff. Having pink kitty litter floating around the topsoil is so tacky - integrate it into your soil mix if you must, but do you really want to shout out its presence to the whole world?
Moss plonked on the surface of the soil. Okay, so the diatribe above has made you start reaching for the moss. Please shave off the crud under your moss so that it lies flat. Then please, please, please do not set various bits of moss like individual islands on a sea of soil. That so does not mimic the look of an old, established tree in its natural setting. Again, all the bobbly, moundy moss islands become just as distracting as colourful topdressing (see above). If you have ever actually combined the two effects, I believe we should send some sort of bonsai fashion police out for you.
When the pots and display table do not marry themselves to the image of the tree. Like I said, brown is not brown is not brown. Just because a tree trunk is 'brown', and the pot is 'brown' and the table is 'brown' does not mean they go together. Any colour in real life will run the gamut of warmer to cooler tones, depending on the pigments/glazes/tints/whatever used. But, as with clothes and artwork, using disparate tonal shades together is so unharmonious. And so detracting from the overall image. On top of that, a low/squat tree really needs to be set on a higher display table. Looking into the tree is so much better than looking down on the tree. Bite the bullet and invest in a proper table if you are serious about displaying your tree to perfection. If not, why are you even reading this?
Accent plants not in proportion to the tree. I know there are practically volumes and volumes written on appropriate size ratio of tree to accent, whether flowering accents should /should not be used with a flowering tree, placing of the accent in relation to the bonsai, etc. And I give ratshit about it all, to be more than honest. If there were a way to instill an immediate comprehension of composition (lines, shapes, appreciation of space, rhythm, etc) to bonsai enthusiasts, then I would have gone on a crusade a long time ago. But 4 years of art school have shown me that this is not something that is learned by osmosis. Or by a single club talk. So, the simplest guideline I can give is to remember that the tree takes centre stage. The accent should complement the tree and never steal attention away from it. Too small or too large an accent and the overall effect is incongruous. My solution is to keep accents of all sizes and do a mock-up before putting a bonsai out on show. Yes, you will probably get there by trial and error. Also, remember to stand back when viewing the overall image.
Farking lose the scrolls, OK? Unless you have a decent enough backdrop that will hold the scroll without sagging, and unless you have an environment that immediately calls to mind the intimacy of a REAL tokonoma, forget it. It just screams putting a scroll out for the sake of putting a scroll out. And why in a Western/British/European show we have to try to be Japanese is beyond me. And if you're going to pretend to be Japanese (or perhaps you just want to pay homage to what you believe are bonsai's Asian origins) - then do it bloody right or not at all. In which case, do the research and find out what Japanese tokonoma display is all about. You may decide never to put out a scroll with minimal forethought again after that.
Having gotten this far, someone is bound to tell me that, in nature, some of the above really does happen. Bobbly mounds of moss do happen to lie around mature trees like islands under the sun. And leaf litter and assorted crud like dead squirrels lie around trees on a forest floor. And my answer is this: bonsai is an art form as well as a horticultural undertaking. Consider it as horticultural sculpture in the round. Part of this calls for the principle of perspective. Everyone knows that trees are big buggers and that bonsai are smaller versions of said big buggers, but in pots. As such, viewing a bonsai is a similar experience to viewing a real live tree from a distance. And from this vantage point, fine detail will be lost (e.g. mounds of moss and leaf litter) to the naked eye. No one has vision that good. So the various elements that go into creating the overall image of a tree or group of trees from a certain distance have to work together in harmony. There's a certain amount of conscious visual training that needs to happen before someone can automatically do this sort of mental juggling, which is probably why the detail work behind this is often overlooked.
Another principle is what I'd call artistic licence. Which sort of goes hand in hand with the perspective thing. When creating a landscape painting, for example, the artist can't include into the painting all the things he sees with his naked eye. He has to discard bits that will render his landscape too fussy (thereby ruining the illusion of distance) and include the bits that give his landscape character. The choice of what goes into the landscape and what doesn't is all up to the artist. The same goes for bonsai. To wit, some deadwood work is an idealised version of what happens in the wild, even though it may not be to everyone's taste. We probably have diverging schools of thought as to whether bonsai can be treated as a pure art form or whether it only really works when a tree looks like a tree.
Teacher-san once told me that bonsai is all about illusion and telling a story without words. Viewing a bonsai should paint a situational picture of the tree in the viewer's mind: is it precariously perched atop a mountain gully? Is it standing majestically in the middle of a field? Has the tree been buffeted by wind and storms? Let me tell you that dirty, weedy soil so does not make me think of any of these scenarios. It just makes me think of dirty, weedy soil that someone couldn't be assed to clean up. Oh, was that the story without words you were trying to tell me? My bad.
To be fair, I have seen this in big shows as well as in small club shows. I have seen judges overlook this sort of thing and wondered why. I suppose that is a reflection of what is important to them in a bonsai. Not everyone will share my opinion, I accept that. But the teeny-tiny advantage I have is that I have this blog - and you've been sat there reading it as well :D
Yes, yes - I promised a show report on our club show at Humbees of Marwell last Sunday. It's coming, OK? A bit of patience never hurt anyone.... sheesh. (Har, har har.)
And to be fair, negativism on its own, without any means of redemption, is just one big let-down. May as well watch the evening news. So where I can offer what I believe to be a light at the end of a tunnel, I will do so. Beats watching the Beeb, right? Must be worth more than what we pay for our TV licence anyway.
That out of the way, let's get on with the gripes.
In a previous post, I talked about what I'd look for when deciding whether or not one of my trees would be good enough to put out on show. This post is all about the opposite - what I so do not want to see in a bonsai display.
Having been to several international shows for at least the past 8 years and local club shows for even longer than that, there are some things that have started to wear me down, making me more and more fastidious (AKA bloody nit-pickety) in my appreciation of bonsai display. So here I come to my BIG PET PEEVES when it comes to presentation of trees. No holds barred, OK? Tune out now if you are of a tender disposition.
Putting out an unfinished product. Unless we are dealing with a display which shows bonsai under development, I really don't believe trees with obvious signs of 'Work In Progress' should be put on show, especially when the show is about the best you have to offer. Defoliated branches sticking out, guy-wires big enough to support a cathedral, enough wire to deter even Houdini... you get the picture, right? My answer to this is: leave the poor tree at home to get on with the business of growing. Have enough trees so that you can rotate those that need a holiday with those that are primped within an inch of their lives. Then do vice versa next year.
Messy, dirty-looking topdressing. This merits a big I HATE YOU. Get rid of the weeds, dudes. And unless you can sympathetically marry any adventitious plants into the overall composition, get rid of them too. It's generally obvious when things have self-sown themselves into the soil and you just can't be assed to get rid of the buggers. (OK, I have seen some get lucky - but they are a MINORITY.) And if the soil is looking tired & unhealthy, full of the ugly bubbly algae, bloody do something about that too. Cover with moss. Possibly fine akadama. Or do you need new glasses? Whatever.
Distracting topdressing. As opposed to the above (which is soil that hasn't been primped), this is soil which has been well laid out but screamingly calls attention to itself. The purpose of the display is to make people view the tree as an integrated whole. I've seen bonsai on show where my attention kept being drawn back to the topdressing, either because of colour or texture. Go for something discreet, not the highly colourful stuff. Having pink kitty litter floating around the topsoil is so tacky - integrate it into your soil mix if you must, but do you really want to shout out its presence to the whole world?
Moss plonked on the surface of the soil. Okay, so the diatribe above has made you start reaching for the moss. Please shave off the crud under your moss so that it lies flat. Then please, please, please do not set various bits of moss like individual islands on a sea of soil. That so does not mimic the look of an old, established tree in its natural setting. Again, all the bobbly, moundy moss islands become just as distracting as colourful topdressing (see above). If you have ever actually combined the two effects, I believe we should send some sort of bonsai fashion police out for you.
When the pots and display table do not marry themselves to the image of the tree. Like I said, brown is not brown is not brown. Just because a tree trunk is 'brown', and the pot is 'brown' and the table is 'brown' does not mean they go together. Any colour in real life will run the gamut of warmer to cooler tones, depending on the pigments/glazes/tints/whatever used. But, as with clothes and artwork, using disparate tonal shades together is so unharmonious. And so detracting from the overall image. On top of that, a low/squat tree really needs to be set on a higher display table. Looking into the tree is so much better than looking down on the tree. Bite the bullet and invest in a proper table if you are serious about displaying your tree to perfection. If not, why are you even reading this?
Accent plants not in proportion to the tree. I know there are practically volumes and volumes written on appropriate size ratio of tree to accent, whether flowering accents should /should not be used with a flowering tree, placing of the accent in relation to the bonsai, etc. And I give ratshit about it all, to be more than honest. If there were a way to instill an immediate comprehension of composition (lines, shapes, appreciation of space, rhythm, etc) to bonsai enthusiasts, then I would have gone on a crusade a long time ago. But 4 years of art school have shown me that this is not something that is learned by osmosis. Or by a single club talk. So, the simplest guideline I can give is to remember that the tree takes centre stage. The accent should complement the tree and never steal attention away from it. Too small or too large an accent and the overall effect is incongruous. My solution is to keep accents of all sizes and do a mock-up before putting a bonsai out on show. Yes, you will probably get there by trial and error. Also, remember to stand back when viewing the overall image.
Farking lose the scrolls, OK? Unless you have a decent enough backdrop that will hold the scroll without sagging, and unless you have an environment that immediately calls to mind the intimacy of a REAL tokonoma, forget it. It just screams putting a scroll out for the sake of putting a scroll out. And why in a Western/British/European show we have to try to be Japanese is beyond me. And if you're going to pretend to be Japanese (or perhaps you just want to pay homage to what you believe are bonsai's Asian origins) - then do it bloody right or not at all. In which case, do the research and find out what Japanese tokonoma display is all about. You may decide never to put out a scroll with minimal forethought again after that.
Having gotten this far, someone is bound to tell me that, in nature, some of the above really does happen. Bobbly mounds of moss do happen to lie around mature trees like islands under the sun. And leaf litter and assorted crud like dead squirrels lie around trees on a forest floor. And my answer is this: bonsai is an art form as well as a horticultural undertaking. Consider it as horticultural sculpture in the round. Part of this calls for the principle of perspective. Everyone knows that trees are big buggers and that bonsai are smaller versions of said big buggers, but in pots. As such, viewing a bonsai is a similar experience to viewing a real live tree from a distance. And from this vantage point, fine detail will be lost (e.g. mounds of moss and leaf litter) to the naked eye. No one has vision that good. So the various elements that go into creating the overall image of a tree or group of trees from a certain distance have to work together in harmony. There's a certain amount of conscious visual training that needs to happen before someone can automatically do this sort of mental juggling, which is probably why the detail work behind this is often overlooked.
Another principle is what I'd call artistic licence. Which sort of goes hand in hand with the perspective thing. When creating a landscape painting, for example, the artist can't include into the painting all the things he sees with his naked eye. He has to discard bits that will render his landscape too fussy (thereby ruining the illusion of distance) and include the bits that give his landscape character. The choice of what goes into the landscape and what doesn't is all up to the artist. The same goes for bonsai. To wit, some deadwood work is an idealised version of what happens in the wild, even though it may not be to everyone's taste. We probably have diverging schools of thought as to whether bonsai can be treated as a pure art form or whether it only really works when a tree looks like a tree.
Teacher-san once told me that bonsai is all about illusion and telling a story without words. Viewing a bonsai should paint a situational picture of the tree in the viewer's mind: is it precariously perched atop a mountain gully? Is it standing majestically in the middle of a field? Has the tree been buffeted by wind and storms? Let me tell you that dirty, weedy soil so does not make me think of any of these scenarios. It just makes me think of dirty, weedy soil that someone couldn't be assed to clean up. Oh, was that the story without words you were trying to tell me? My bad.
To be fair, I have seen this in big shows as well as in small club shows. I have seen judges overlook this sort of thing and wondered why. I suppose that is a reflection of what is important to them in a bonsai. Not everyone will share my opinion, I accept that. But the teeny-tiny advantage I have is that I have this blog - and you've been sat there reading it as well :D
Yes, yes - I promised a show report on our club show at Humbees of Marwell last Sunday. It's coming, OK? A bit of patience never hurt anyone.... sheesh. (Har, har har.)
Saturday, 27 June 2009
Setting the record straight, again
Following on from my indignant reaction to the "shallow root system = a tree's ability to hold out in freezing temperatures" statement.
So here is the skinny on how cold dormancy works, i.e. what a deciduous (in this country, used to refer to trees that shed their leaves in winter) tree does to prepare itself for winter beddy-byes.
Actually cold dormancy; the process by which a deciduous tree prepares itself for winter is quite an interesting topic in a geeky sort of way.
Its starts with the absorption of chlorophylls which exposes the autumn colours we are familiar with. Then as nutrients are absorbed a whole range of other processes begin including cell wall hardening and increase in respiration as sugars are stored around the plant. It would seem that the tree has shut down initially but far from it. Then as daylight and temperature decrease there appears to be a timing mechanism that prevents the tree from emerging from winter too early. It would be disastrous for the plant to produce leaf just to be lost to a frost so the tree needs a degree of certainty that this is not going to happen. So a substance in bark and stems called phytochrome detects light levels, as these increase along with soil temperature and as long as at least 300 hours of low temperatures has passed, the tree will emerge in Spring. Amazing stuff.
There. Before anyone else starts spewing a whole load of crap.
Thanks to bonsaibanter who is a fantastic source for horticultural facts. (Get the hint? Keyword = FACTS.)
So here is the skinny on how cold dormancy works, i.e. what a deciduous (in this country, used to refer to trees that shed their leaves in winter) tree does to prepare itself for winter beddy-byes.
Actually cold dormancy; the process by which a deciduous tree prepares itself for winter is quite an interesting topic in a geeky sort of way.
Its starts with the absorption of chlorophylls which exposes the autumn colours we are familiar with. Then as nutrients are absorbed a whole range of other processes begin including cell wall hardening and increase in respiration as sugars are stored around the plant. It would seem that the tree has shut down initially but far from it. Then as daylight and temperature decrease there appears to be a timing mechanism that prevents the tree from emerging from winter too early. It would be disastrous for the plant to produce leaf just to be lost to a frost so the tree needs a degree of certainty that this is not going to happen. So a substance in bark and stems called phytochrome detects light levels, as these increase along with soil temperature and as long as at least 300 hours of low temperatures has passed, the tree will emerge in Spring. Amazing stuff.
There. Before anyone else starts spewing a whole load of crap.
Thanks to bonsaibanter who is a fantastic source for horticultural facts. (Get the hint? Keyword = FACTS.)
Friday, 26 June 2009
Stop talking rot... pleeze??!
OK - so the Internet allows freedom of speech and circulation of information. Fine, I accept that.
Ergo, my freedom of speech presumably also allows me to call a spade a spade when I see a spade, right?
Via Twitter, I see a lot of links to sites that promote bonsai in some way, shape or form; some of these sites are (thinly) veiled commercial sites, others can be more overtly so. Whatever. That isn't my beef. I have no problems with capitalism whatsoever.
What I do have a problem with is when statements are made that are erroneous, misleading or just plain crap that has never been verified for accuracy.
For example, this statement:
Temperate bonsai trees are able to hold out in freezing temperatures because they have a shallow root system.
So I check with a friend who has a horticultural degree, here is the reply:
Your intuition is correct the statement is tosh.
Cold hardiness and separately, Cold dormancy, are dependent on a number of factors which does not include shallow roots.
I will take it that the author is commenting about Cold hardiness rather than dormancy.
Trees have a number of physiological and morphological adaptations to cope with winter; shedding leaves, cell wall hardening, wood substructure as an insulator, morphology of vascular system, morphology of evergreen leaves, storage of nutrients, movement of solutes into/out of cells and probably others that I cannot recall.
One interesting adaptation is that of pines. These have a tracheid vascular system (long and narrow cells) as opposed to vessel elements in deciduous trees.
These cell help reduce transpiration losses as well as being structurally stronger in cold conditions.
So, if you are a newbie to bonsai looking for help/advice/whatever - be warned. Find a reputable source of information and, even then, check your facts.
So I'm not the equable, tolerant person I should be. And apparently it doesn't take a lot to wind me up (so you've noticed??). But, sheesh, give me a break. In fact, give the rest of the world a break.
'Kthxbye.
Ergo, my freedom of speech presumably also allows me to call a spade a spade when I see a spade, right?
Via Twitter, I see a lot of links to sites that promote bonsai in some way, shape or form; some of these sites are (thinly) veiled commercial sites, others can be more overtly so. Whatever. That isn't my beef. I have no problems with capitalism whatsoever.
What I do have a problem with is when statements are made that are erroneous, misleading or just plain crap that has never been verified for accuracy.
For example, this statement:
Temperate bonsai trees are able to hold out in freezing temperatures because they have a shallow root system.
So I check with a friend who has a horticultural degree, here is the reply:
Your intuition is correct the statement is tosh.
Cold hardiness and separately, Cold dormancy, are dependent on a number of factors which does not include shallow roots.
I will take it that the author is commenting about Cold hardiness rather than dormancy.
Trees have a number of physiological and morphological adaptations to cope with winter; shedding leaves, cell wall hardening, wood substructure as an insulator, morphology of vascular system, morphology of evergreen leaves, storage of nutrients, movement of solutes into/out of cells and probably others that I cannot recall.
One interesting adaptation is that of pines. These have a tracheid vascular system (long and narrow cells) as opposed to vessel elements in deciduous trees.
These cell help reduce transpiration losses as well as being structurally stronger in cold conditions.
So, if you are a newbie to bonsai looking for help/advice/whatever - be warned. Find a reputable source of information and, even then, check your facts.
So I'm not the equable, tolerant person I should be. And apparently it doesn't take a lot to wind me up (so you've noticed??). But, sheesh, give me a break. In fact, give the rest of the world a break.
'Kthxbye.
Saturday, 2 May 2009
Unintended Hiatus
'Scuse the silence, folks.
Have had a couple of posts on the back burner but have been struggling to make some software work for me. Unfortunately I can't find the right Twitter apps to work with my Sony Ericsson phone. And the Sony Ericsson website has gone walkies in the meantime, so I can't look up any forums either.
So did I bookmark it? Of course not! That would've been too easy, right?
So any pics of the Wessex show tomorrow will go straight to Blogger again. Hmph. Twitpic. Hmph.
Have had a couple of posts on the back burner but have been struggling to make some software work for me. Unfortunately I can't find the right Twitter apps to work with my Sony Ericsson phone. And the Sony Ericsson website has gone walkies in the meantime, so I can't look up any forums either.
So did I bookmark it? Of course not! That would've been too easy, right?
So any pics of the Wessex show tomorrow will go straight to Blogger again. Hmph. Twitpic. Hmph.
Tuesday, 14 April 2009
Pleione tongariro
There are actually 4 flower spikes to this one, but I've hidden the fourth spike (not fully open) in the back as some effing little blighter took a whopping big munch out of it.Said effing little blighter is now a squished blot on my garden landscape.
This orchid came from Mr Ingwersen, at the garden show in Broadlands a couple of years back. Mr Ingwersen is now retired, so there are less and less specialist Alpine nurseries in this part of the world. A situation I continually bemoan on this blog
Pot is by John Pitt. I'm not quite sure what the potting compost is, loads of bark from what I remember. This guy has been in this pot for a while; several baby pseudobulbs have decided they wanted to break off from the fold. They've been (over)potted on now, let's see what they're going to do about fending for themselves...
Update: More Pleione pics here.
Saturday, 14 March 2009
Now about what happened to the car...
Have had to relate this bit of our adventure so many times since we got back; so here is the story - just in case you're among those that haven't yet asked me in person:
On the first day of our drive down to Spain, less than an hour after we stopped for lunch on the A10 direction Bordeaux, the rain started whomping it in mega-buckets. The whole autoroute slows down. As we all start negotiating this gentle bend in the road, the heavy rain suddenly turns into snow (talk about schizo).
Suddenly around 20 cars start spinning on the A10 like some weird synchronized ballet. We miss the car in front of us (who by the way was a mum with kids in the back, we found out later - they musta been scared sh*tless) on the first 360 deg spin, except we're now only a few metres from the crash barrier. I watch this lump of metal approaching my side as the car changes angle, going "sh*t, sh*t, sh*t" aloud, and wondering inside, "is this going to hurt?". The cliché really is true, it's like watching things in slow motion. The car hits the barrier headlight first (but not with the impact I was dreading - almost anticlimactic), scrapes lightly along the side of the car (at which I ask myself, "will I be able to get out of here"), then thumps the rear light for good measure.
After the obligatory exchange of 'are you all rights' we pull off the road and check the trees. The only real casualty was a small orchid we had brought for Bruno which had spilled some of its compost over the bigger trees. Hooray for Team Tree Packers. You done a good job guys.
The car was drive-able, even if the headlights had to be propped up with duct tape (and bonsai wire once we hit the convention - hooray for Richard and 6 mm ali) . Still, after breaking the journey at Lasarte, we had to cross the Pyrenees and it started snowing just 30 mins after we left the hotel at daybreak. Not the most comforting thing to know that we had to watch our speed, watch the car's performance, watch out for speed freaks (they exist no matter what the weather) cover 650 miles and get to the EBA hall in time for set-up at 17:00. Which we did, without mishap, at 17:30. Check Twitter out for the soundbytes of that leg of the trip.
And boy did we have to take some stick when we rolled into the convention centre and the Dutch, German & Austrian lads were all at the parking lot, watching us drive in....
On the first day of our drive down to Spain, less than an hour after we stopped for lunch on the A10 direction Bordeaux, the rain started whomping it in mega-buckets. The whole autoroute slows down. As we all start negotiating this gentle bend in the road, the heavy rain suddenly turns into snow (talk about schizo).
Suddenly around 20 cars start spinning on the A10 like some weird synchronized ballet. We miss the car in front of us (who by the way was a mum with kids in the back, we found out later - they musta been scared sh*tless) on the first 360 deg spin, except we're now only a few metres from the crash barrier. I watch this lump of metal approaching my side as the car changes angle, going "sh*t, sh*t, sh*t" aloud, and wondering inside, "is this going to hurt?". The cliché really is true, it's like watching things in slow motion. The car hits the barrier headlight first (but not with the impact I was dreading - almost anticlimactic), scrapes lightly along the side of the car (at which I ask myself, "will I be able to get out of here"), then thumps the rear light for good measure.
After the obligatory exchange of 'are you all rights' we pull off the road and check the trees. The only real casualty was a small orchid we had brought for Bruno which had spilled some of its compost over the bigger trees. Hooray for Team Tree Packers. You done a good job guys.
The car was drive-able, even if the headlights had to be propped up with duct tape (and bonsai wire once we hit the convention - hooray for Richard and 6 mm ali) . Still, after breaking the journey at Lasarte, we had to cross the Pyrenees and it started snowing just 30 mins after we left the hotel at daybreak. Not the most comforting thing to know that we had to watch our speed, watch the car's performance, watch out for speed freaks (they exist no matter what the weather) cover 650 miles and get to the EBA hall in time for set-up at 17:00. Which we did, without mishap, at 17:30. Check Twitter out for the soundbytes of that leg of the trip.
And boy did we have to take some stick when we rolled into the convention centre and the Dutch, German & Austrian lads were all at the parking lot, watching us drive in....
Thursday, 26 February 2009
We have lift-off!
Drum pot photo posted earlier was taken off my phone and posted direct onto Blogger, including text. It looks like I have managed to get all the bits of software talking to each other.
It only took a whole evening of fiddling with buttons, opening accounts with various service providers - 2 or which were for the phone - and waiting for server replication (or whatever those little boxes do) to take place.
Now we practice with more photos. Can't say I enjoy taking photos off my phone but there you go... maybe Picasso said the same thing about refracting his subjects.
It only took a whole evening of fiddling with buttons, opening accounts with various service providers - 2 or which were for the phone - and waiting for server replication (or whatever those little boxes do) to take place.
Now we practice with more photos. Can't say I enjoy taking photos off my phone but there you go... maybe Picasso said the same thing about refracting his subjects.
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