Well, the British prime minister has just announced that the country is going into a near-total lockdown. We have to stay inside unless shopping for food, dealing with medical needs, or a couple of other reasons.
I don’t know what I’m going to do! No more parties. No more inviting groupies around to my place. I’m going to have to cancel that world book-signing tour.
Oh, wait…
If you go hunting on YouTube, you can find all sorts of ways to waste days of your life on things so pointless it’s untrue. One such are the ‘8 hours of…’ videos. ‘8 hours of Anime Characters saying “baka!” (I have no idea if that video exists, but it should). ‘8 hours of a relaxing fireplace’ (Likely doesn’t exist with that name, but you can bet there are several where that’s all you get). There are several that play one song, over and over, for people who can’t be bothered to put something on continuous loop.
Now, the British Broadcasting Corporation, that august institution that brought you Downton Abbey and Doctor Who, brings you ‘9 hours of our Christmas cat hoovering #XmasLife.’ It’s a classic. Yes, you can watch a fixed camera scene of a Christmas tree with presents around it, and a long-haired cat on a Roomba sliding from left to right in the foreground. Then it does a right to left sweep. Then… You get the picture. Now I know where my licence fee was spent.
I admit that I haven’t watched all nine hours. Something insane might happen at hour five. Maybe the cat sneezes. Or gets off and chases the Roomba for a few seconds. Or it falls asleep, falls off, and then pretends it didn’t really do that. Or its tail gets sucked into the hoover! We just don’t know! If anyone does watch it all the way through, don’t spoil the ending for the rest of us!
Okay, so this post is out of left field…
I’ve just been reading this week’s New Scientist. For those who don’t know it, it’s a weekly magazine featuring articles on science, all kind of science. I don’t get it every week, but I pick it up when I think an article has something interesting I might be able to twist into fiction and this week the cover story is “What is Time?” Interesting question and one for which there is no good answer at the moment. Plenty of theories which may or may not explain our experience of time passing. The article proposes various quantum theory elements which may explain where the time we experience comes from. Fascinating stuff.
One of the explanations involves the uncertainty inherent in quantum events. It seems our perception of time passing may have something to do with quantum uncertainty and the ‘quantum ignorance’ which results from it. I think it sounds like a good explanation since I’ve been absolutely convinced that today was Saturday since at least lunchtime. It’s nice to know that my uncertainty over the day is just a reflection of the origin of time. I think it’s a superposition thing: it was both Friday and Saturday, until I measured it and the probability equation collapsed.
Posted in Opinion
Tagged humour, New Scientist, physics, quantum mechanics, relativity, time, what day is it
This is an entirely irrelevant post. You have been warned!
It has been snowing here all day, but there is no snow on the ground. It’s not even lying on the dustbins, or the grass, or my car.
That is not real snow and it should be banned!
Hash tag NotMySnow. Has tag WhyNoWhiteChristmas.
Well, in a couple of hours it will be that day beloved of sweethearts, lovers, florists, greeting-card manufacturers, and chocolate companies. That time of the year which takes being single and turns it from mildly depressing to a full on atomic wedgie.
Yes, Valentine’s Day!
I felt like making my general opinion of the event known.
I made it a bit of a tradition to watch Frozen on Christmas night. That’s all I’m going to say about this one.
Okay, folks, this is… Hmm. Well, I was digging around in my files this evening (damn, it’s almost 11pm) and I found something which I think was supposed to be longer and never got finished. I’m fairly sure it was supposed to be longer and a lot sadder, and maybe one day it will be, but for now there’s about a page of it and I thought I’d share it. It is that time of year…
Uh, also, I updated the What I’m Up To page today. I’m working on getting the next Thaumatology book going, hence me finding this. Here we go. All spelling errors are intended. Hope you’re as amused as I was when I found it.
A Letter to Santa
By Lilith Carpenter, aged 7¾
Dear Santa,
I know I am a half-sucky-bus, but I think I should be allowed to write a letter to you, even if Miriam Wooster says I cant, but everyone says how she smells so I think I can because she smells. So I am writing you this letter so that you will no what I want fro Chissmas.
Mummy says that you only bring presents to good little girls. I am a good little girl even if I am a half-sucklybus. I help my Mummy with the dishes. I dry dishes real good and I have not broken one this month. I have not pulled Miriam Wooster’s hair for a week even if she smells and calls me a big fat demon. I am not a demon. I am a half-sucsybus.
Okay what I would like for Chissmas is a Daddy. I would like a Daddy because all the other children have one, even if they do not all live with them. I dont have a Daddy at all. Well I do but he is in demonland with the other demons and I cant even visit him or call him on the telyphone. I would like a Daddy so I can be like everone else. But most of all I would like a Daddy because my Mummy needs him to. I see her looking sad sometimes and I know having a Daddy to be with would make her happy and I want Mummy to be happy so I would like a Daddy.
And a pony.
Thank you Santa.
Love, Lilith.
~~~
By Lilith Carpenter, aged 8¾
Dear Santa,
Thank you for sending me my Daddy. He is a great Daddy and tells me the best bedtime stories.
My spelling has got a lot better in the last year. I am amazed you could read last year’s letter. I suppose you have a lot of practice reading bad writing.
I have been a really good girl this year. Daddy says I will grow up to be a good little succubus, just like Tef. Mummy says I have to stay a good little girl, otherwise I will be a right little madam. I hope I can be a good little succubus and a good little girl.
Thank you for sending my Daddy.
Please could I have the pony now.
Love, Lilith.
~~~
By Ceridwyn Brent, aged 9
Dear Santa,
Look, I realise you’re a mythical, pseudo-religious character created to Christianise a pagan myth-figure, but our teacher says we have to write a “Letter to Santa” to put up on the pin-board, so here is mine. Don’t get me wrong, I love presents just as much as the next kid, but I know you don’t come down the chimney to deliver them. For one thing, Dad told me years ago you were fictional, and even if my parents wanted to be a bit secretive about putting the presents out, I spotted them sneaking down from the attic last year.
Okay, now we have that out of the way, I guess I should give you the list. I’d like:
A My First Alchemy Set.
A thaumometer of my own. Dad has loads, but I’d like one. A proper one, not a kid’s one.
A copy of the Junior Thaumatologist’s Encyclopaedia.
Oh, and a pet dragon.
Thanks, Ceri.
After a long, hard workout there’s nothing a cool action heroine/detective like Fox Meridian likes better than a cool bottle of StuffYouSuck. It’s in a bottle, it’s stuff, and you suck it.
Witches and Ray-Guns 