Weirdo things about Edbo

... I don't appreciate that there doesn't seem to be a slang name for Edinburgh (well, there's Edinbore but that's quite a disparaging term unsuitable for day-to-day use). My thoughts on people who write letters to the Metro I'll reserve for another day.

Every place deserves to have an alternate name that is easier to say and write - particularly for people like me who mangle all their words up when not concentrating. There's Bomo (Bournemouth), the Smoke (London), Lanks (Lancaster) and Dorch (Dorchester). So I will use the term Edbo, even though no-one else does.

So here are some of the unusual things I have discovered about Edbo:

1) No-one thanks the bus driver. You see, no matter how far you travel on the bus, the fare is always a pound. And the bus driver has no change. So you silently drop your cash in the slot (where it must be weighed electronically) or swipe your Ridacard. And then take your seat. Because of this there is no excuse to talk to the bus driver. And since you haven't spoken to him on the way in, for some reason it is more difficult to say something when departing the vehicle. So very few people do. At least that's what I've noticed.

2) You order some chips in a takeaway. The person behind the counter scoops some chips into a tray and asks if you would like salt and vinegar. You reply 'Yes, but not too much, please' bearing in mind what happened to poor Sid the Slug. Then, without asking for any further instruction, the person covers the chips in a very generous helping of brown sauce, completely spoiling them. The first time this happened I played back the scenario in my mind, and assumed that when I answered 'Yes, but not too much, please', she must have heard 'Yes, but could you also smother the chips in brown sauce, please'. Assuming it was my fault, I accepted the chips, but threw most of them away. The second time this happened, in the same shop, I assumed that the person serving the chips remembered me from before, clearly didn't like me and therefore wanted to spitefully ruin my food. Well, I was hurt, but I accepted the chips and decided never to go to that shop again. Well yesterday it happened in a different shop. Apparently it's a tradition.

3) The word 'outwith'. As in:

"I'm sorry your address is outwith the practice area for this surgery"
"What, you mean it's outside the practice area"
"I meant outwith"

I've noticed that in practically every written document produced at work and by civil institutions such as the local council or the university has a ban on the word 'outside'. I think it means the same 'outside', but it doesn't seem right. Probably designed as a way to confuse people. But why it is just this one word that is different?

4) I'm enjoying Newsnight, my second favourite show (after This Week). Suddenly, halfway through transmission (sometimes midway through an item or interview), the programming is inexpertly interrupted and the titles for something called Newsnight Scotland appear. There then follows 20 minutes of sheer tedium where they examine some burning issue of no significance, like the scottish economy has been predicted to grow by 0.2% next year, or whatever. All very interesting, but if I wanted to learn more about local issues I'd read the local newspaper, or watch the local news. In the meantime I'm missing all the exciting Newsnight reports promised in my Newsnight e-mail, sent to me earlier in the day by Jeremy Paxman. The only option is to watch Newsnight on-line, but the live feed is so blocky and stuttery I can conclude that almost everyone else in Scotland has chosen to do the same. I feel a petition to the Scottish Parliament coming on...

Credit cards

I will commence whinging about credit cards... now.

Why oh why am I ineligable for credit?? When you can hardly open a newspaper without reading about some irresponsible bon viveur who is £80,000 in debt it makes no sense that I should be denied a simple card with a modest credit limit of, say £400. Worst of all, the syncophantic rejection letters from the credit card companies read worse than job rejection letters, in that none give ANY SUBSTANTIAL REASON for my lack of creditworthiness.

To quote: 'with each application we consider a number of factors including information from credit reference agencies and the information you provided on your application form. This information is combined to produce a score. Unfortunately, your score did not meet the score required in this instance.'

Translation: 'We punched your info into a computer and computer says no'

But the issue I have is that the form was so short that they could not gather any useful info on me. They wanted to know my income, which was greater than the minimum stated necessary to qualify for the card. They wanted to know my address, which is a very respectable address (rented admittedly) in the capital city of Scotland - a nation of spendthrifts. So the information I provided on the form must have checked out fine. It's down to the credit reference agency then. But I can only think of two things that they have on me:

1. I never pay my bills before the final demand arrives - well really, it would be foolish of me to pay bills before the final demand. Why would anyone who values their money hand it over to a greedy utilites company any earlier than necessary, when it could be earning interest?? Large successful companies such as Sainsbury's defer payment to suppliers as long as is legally possible for just this reason. This should demonstrate I am shrewd with my finances and so more deserving of credit.

2. My bank account is always maxed out on overdraft. Yes, well I know this sounds dodgy, but it is an interest free overdraft for goodness sake. Once again, why should I allocate spare cash to keep my account in the red when it could be making itself useful earning interest in a savings account elsewhere??

So I'm being financially smart but it looks bad to a computer database. And people ask me why I worry that soon a big computer database will be making many more critical decisions about my life once the national identity register is up and running. Unless they let me program the computer of course.

5 things...

Up till 2 or 3 years ago, I only had to check that I had my keys and wallet before leaving the house. That way I would not only be able to buy stuff (if necessary) whilst I was out but I could also easily gain access to my residence on my return.

Then I upgraded by mobile phone from a big 10lb brick model with a painful aerial poking out of it to a cheap, nasty but smaller model. So I started doing the 'keys, wallet, phone' check through my pockets before stepping over the threshold.

Just recently it seems everywhere I go involves a long walk or a tedious journey on public transport. So I take my iPod in my coat pocket to make best use of the time. Since its battery life is pitiful (and Apple charge about £40 to fit a new battery), I also take the charger lead. This means I can also use it as a handy 4Gb hard drive, should the need arise.

So keys, wallet, phone, iPod, charger lead. Five things is much more effort to remember than two, and I'm always forgetting one of those items.

And, like today, it's usually the freakin' keys.

Great cultural minds...

Well I noticed that some famous faces agree with me about the misappropriation of Johny Cash! (ref. my last whinge but 3, made a lifetime ago)

Today I hate...

... searching for a flatshare in Edinbore... sheesh who are these people?? Why do they all want to live here, and why are they either English and called Tarquin or raving Scottish nationists with Saltires bedecked over every item of furniture?? How come I am always asked which country I come from, isn't it obvious or should I too engage in displays of fervent nationalism (dressing as a Beefeater, Morris Dancer or one of the baddies from Braveheart, maybe), to allay any doubt??

Man, they show you to the broom cupboard, explain that this is the room on offer, just as advertised. Just as you are trying to calculate whether there is physically space for all of your belongings when another potential suitor arrives. On the way out you add your name and phone number to the list (already 15 strong) with the promise that they'll make their decision in a day or two, once the interview panel has convened. Well if they offered me the flat I'd turn them down, just to find out and surprised and taken aback they are that maybe their poxy broom cupboard isn't so desirable after all. I'd have to make sure the 15 other people did the same, though, for full effect.

The art of sales

Oh, seems like a residence not so far from where I live is on the market (well, it's fairly much exactly where I live). I like the room descriptions, which play up all of the property's desirable features, such as:

BEDROOM ONE 4.04m(13'3'') x 3.10m(10'2'')
One single glazed window with pleasant outlook over Lancaster towards Lancaster castle. One double panelled radiator with thermostat. Power and light.

After all, up here in t' north, it is unusal for rooms to have single glazed windows (brrrr), power sockets and a light. Shame that the pleasant outlook towards Lancaster castle/prison could soon be blocked by a fancy hotel. This would once have made me very angry.

Call centre tips

I have lately been temping in a call centre. This might seem a strange career move, since I can barely follow my own conversation sometimes, so goodness knows how a total stranger at the other end of a crackly phone line is meant to.

I do, however, have plenty of experience of contacting phone centres to talk to my bank, pay bills, discuss application forms etc. etc. and have found the people who answer the phone to be almost always irritable and unhelpful. Now I know why. Based on experience, here are my tips for a successful call centre experience:

1. Don't assume that you can save time by quoting your customer reference number. This assumes that the person at the call centre has access to a computer to look you up on the database. Sure, I'll pretend to look you up at the database, but when I ask for your full address, phone number and insurance policy details 'for confirmation' it is because I am busy writing it all down on an A4 pad - for a time the only technology that I had at my disposal.
2. When I answer the phone "Good afternoon, Spider speaking, how can I help you?", don't reply sceptically "I wonder if you can....". You will only be the 40th or so person to say that today, and it sets the discussion off to a bad start.
3. It's fine to ask to speak to a Team Leader. I won't be insulted - to be honest they're probably much better placed to deal with your query. They're quite few and far between, though, so I will have to put you on hold for about 10 minutes whilst I go and find one, join the queue to talk to them and finally explain the issue to them, during which time you've hung up.
4. You're welcome to threaten to complain to your MP, the Financial Ombudsman and the European Court of Rights. In fact, that's the kind of thing that I would do in the same situation. I love people power!! But this is usually just a roundabout way of asking to speak to a Team Leader. As you wish, please hold...
5. If you live in a place such as Machynlleth or Ffestiniog, please tell me how to spell it. If you live in Birmingham or Plymouth, I'm sure you mean well, but it comes across as a bit patronising.
6. If you're you're the friendly sort, please keep talking. Note how I deliberately attempt to spin out the conversation, change the subject, maybe even phone you back to save your bill - anything to delay Mr. or Ms. Angry who is waiting on the line to speak to me next...

Anywayz, my placement has now come to an end, so I'm sure I will soon lose my newfound call centre empathy, and return to being rude and impatient.

Hearing from my MP

Hear from your MP is, on the surface, an excellent website that allows ordinary internet uses to talk to their local member of parliament via a special e-mail group. Naturally, I signed up months ago and so imagine my excitement when the first e-mail from Ben Wellace (hon. member for Lancaster and Wyre) appeared in my in-box seeking my considered advice.

I just wish that in my enthusiasm I had taken a bit longer to think through my opinions, or at least check my sentence structure, before hitting 'send'. The poor man is going to look at the replies so far and resolve never to use the service again. Note how I also oh so un-subtlely invited him for a pint at the local, which goes to show how much I would enjoy spending time with politicians, even Conservative ones.

Why I hate ITV

... as is clear, something has to really wind me up to provoke a new blog post. The English Football team have exited the World Cup on penalties - the fifth time they have taken such a route out of a competition in living memory (i.e. since about 1986). It was distressing to watch, but familiarity dulls the pain. I don't think any cities in Germany will be razed to the ground as the media expects, but that the disappointed fans will most likely quietly return to their campsites and pack their tents for the journey home.

What bothers me is that later on, in their highlights package, ITV obviously had to put on a little montage of all the team's peaks and troughs throughout the tournament set to angsty music. Now I like angsty music of all types, and something angsty-light by Coldplay or Robbie Williams would have been a fine choice. Because England going out of a tournament on penalties is painful, but nothing that we haven't all experienced before and will experience many, many times again. But instead ITV went for angsty-heavy by playing Hurt by Johnny Cash (originally Nine Inch Nails), which is one of my favourite angst ridden tunes of all. This song has no place on one of ITV's stupid montages dammit - it is the song of a wizened man probing the bitterness of his soul. Or something.

What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

They could have meant it for Sven, I suppose, but that is rather cruel, even taking his questionable tactics into account. The poor man tried his best, and here he is being likened to the Michael Henchard by some smart alec vision mixer. Grrr.... I haven't felt so patrionised since the BBC nicked a Radiohead track to try to bully people into paying their little poll tax. That also made me cross.

Route optimisation (... or Do I Have Too Much Time)

Just like Clive Woodward at the last World Cup, I have been using some of the world's most sophisticated computer software (that's Paint Shop Pro) to analyse my tactical sporting performance. This is the surest and quickest route to success, and makes a pleasant change from just training really hard.

Last weekend, Lenka and I took part in another adventure race in the Lake District - we have to visit as many checkpoints as possible in 5 hours on foot and by mountain bike, in any order. The team that scores the post points wins, and different checekpoints are worth different numbers of points (denoted by my handwritten markings on the maps, below). We kept a fairly good pace, didn't suffer any mechanical failures or anything, but still only ranked 11th out of 26 teams.

This map shows our MTB route (in orange) and what must be roughly the route taken by the winners (in purple). So we both covered similar distances.

But this is a comparison of the running route - looks like the winners covered a fair bit more ground here!

However, the winners spent about 1hr 45 mins running, whereas we spent just over an hour. So we took longer than them to cover our MTB route, and made more few questionable route choices. We did the running first, but I'm thinking that it would have been better to get all the strenous mountain biking out the way. Hmmm, so many possibilities - still I think that we are close to getting the right formula for Ultimate Success. We've already stormed up the series table by a mathematical quirk.