Friday, December 08, 2006

Who am I today?

Is it just me?

This afternoon I've been sitting in front of this darn computer for - how long?
Oh, several hours.

'Working hard', you say?
No, trying to log in.

It's simple enough.
I've got a little note in my little notebook here. It says that if I want to get started in Blogger, then all I have to do is log in with my Blogger ID and password.
Problem is, that it's not what I've got written down here, apparently.
I type it in and the machine says 'wrong'.

Then it says 'Try using your Google account email and password'.
Easy, that's the same.
No, it's not, says the machine.

Yeah, OK, OK, but all I want to do is get some ads on this page.
Can I join up with Adsense, please?
Sure, it says, but you'll have to open an Adsense account and you'll need an email and password.
Well, I've got that, I say.
Here it is.

No, it's not, says Adsense.
That's the email and password of a person who tried to sign up 3 weeks ago but never finished the process.
Yeah, I know, I say.
That's me.
I tried to finish the process, honest, but you said you'd send me an email and I didn't see it.
So I tried to sign in and you said 'Process not completed. See the message we sent you in our last email.'
Hmm, I'm thinking. I didn't get that.
'Follow the instructions we gave you in the email', it says.
But I didn't get it.
I didn't get the instructions.
How do I know what to do?
Shall I sign in again? But then, I'll be the guy who didn't finish -

Aw, heck.
You mean, I need to have 3 emails and 3 passwords and I need to note them all down in my little notebook, so that I can know who I am today - depending on what I want and who I want to talk to?
Do you do that?
Is that what we're all doing, out there in cyberland?

Or is it just me?

Monday, October 16, 2006

How to have a Happy Monday

Monday - again?
There's one thing for sure, someone has arranged these things so that Monday come around pretty regularly, why, maybe even once a week.
What's going on?
Is this a sort of conspiracy?
Who's in charge?
Whoever, it is, they've managed things pretty well this year, at least as far as days are concerned.
Talking of managers, isn't it strange how everybody seems to yearn to be in charge of at least one other person?
Now, me, I'm self-employed, so, strictly speaking, my only employee is myself.
Don't thing that makes life easy!
He's one heck of a bad worker. Always arriving late, no Dress Code, cheeky, takes long lunch breaks.
I can't seem to get a decent day's work out of him.
Hmm, I think I might have to take my employee to an Employment Tribunal, for a bit of Disciplinary Procedure.
Ooh, er.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Tripe Pickers Journal

Remember me when I'm gone

One thing you can say for sure, is that there's a lot of Scantleburies out there on the internet.
One of the most famous is Uncle Larry.
Only problem is that he's passed on.
Why, oh why, do you have to kick it before they notice you're there?

Apparently, according to bloggers, Larry Scantlebury was being chased for file sharing.
Hmm, bad crime.
Somewhere between bank robbing and parking on a yellow line.

Now all I have to worry about is if anyone notices my misdemeanours.
I mean, I'm sure I used a double negative in 1978.
I might even have thought a tautology last year.
And don't get me started about split infinitives -

But this is getting me worried.
Someone said that Elvis is selling more records today than he did in the early '70s.
People call it a 'good career move'.
Do you think - no.
It's not possible that Uncle Larry might have snuffed it for commercial reasons.
That's just selfish.

Well, keep an eye on my web site, fellahs.
If I get run over tomorrow, sales will blossom.

Pass the hemlock.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Tripe Pickers Time Travel

Monday, again

Monday, again.
How come it's always the start of the week?
No, wait a minute. Problems with the digital transgference wave-ride chronometer.
My mistake. It's Sunday.
Oh, well, at least the two days rhyme. If it was Thursday, I'd be really confused.
What I don't understand is that 'Sunday' seems to be named after the sun, but if Monday is named after the moon, then why isn't it called 'Moonday'?
We wouldn't have half so many problems. Can you imagine Bob Geldof singing "I don't like Moondays"??
It's not the same.
Meanwhile, it's been a busy week out in cyberland.
The wires of the internet have been humming with traffic. I've had two visitors to my new web site this week, one on Weds and one on Fri, and the problem is I think it's only me!
How come all these promotional tools promise you traffic, but it doesn't arrive?
I'm talking about
I've just installed one of my old SF novels from the '80s. (If you're old enough to remember 'Tripe Pickers' Journal', you might be old enough to remember the novel about global warming. Yeah, really.)
That's called predicting the future.
Hey, if I could do that, I would know what was coming for lunch, right?
I have no idea.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Tripe Pickers Journal

How not to get lost

Hi, I'm here again.
Where are you?

In fact, where was I?
I'm pretty sure I wrote a blog yesterday, but it hasn't come up!
My goodness, lost in cyberspace.

This hasn't happened to me recently.
Lost in Atherton, yes, but then, there are lots of little streets on the housing estate there, and they're all named after mountain climbing, for some reason - Everest Road, Tensing Avenue, Hilary Street - you get the idea.
Lost in Preston, too, but that's another story.

But lost in space?
Hey, I could be the Matt le Blanc character.
Couldn't I?

Monday, August 28, 2006

Tripe Pickers Journal

How to disprove existence

Yes, Monday again.
This is odd.
I've wasted the whole of the last week trying to get into my blog account, and they kept turfing me out.
Just to add insult to injury, they said, 'Email does not exist'.
Hey, who you saying doesn't exist, pal?
I live in Salford. We take a dim view of dismissing existence.
It's a challenge to our masculinisation, not to mention our tripe throwing acumen.
I could get really shirty, if I was wearing one.
Meanwhile, it's been a busy week out in the fields.
It's tripe planting season, as you probably know, and it's been a real rush to get the seeds in before stag rutting starts.
Oh, to live in a gingerbread house, without worries.
What are the chances?

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Tripe Pickers Journal

Waking up again, Monday morning

What's that to do with me? you may ask.
Who remembers the 1970s?

Anyway, isn' the fuss always about the'60s?
That's when they invented love, peace and understanding.
That's when Rovbert Kennedy was shot.
That's when Russia invaded Czechoslovakia, (not there to invade anymore, it's in two parts - the ultimate defence).

What's that got to do with Science Fiction?
Goodness knows, even 'Doctor Who' has changed out of all recognition.
SF is a shifting field, but if you want to know more, you need to check out my web site.

More later.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Tripe Pickers Journal

Now who's shovelling?

OK, Mike, I here you say -
If it isn't you,
(and it isn't Biggins) -
who's that shovelling tripe on the cover of your fanzine?
You know, the guy in the Matrix coat and the wild hair?

More important, if you're telling us that it's 1978, how the heck does The Matrix come into it anyway?

(We've all heard of Time Travel, but isn't that something to do with Science Fiction?
Not something real, like fanzines.)

Tripe Pickers Journal

Where do I come from?

Hmm, several errors.
It wasn't Steve Biggins. It was Paul Kincaid.
Also, it wasn't Biggins. His real name was Higgins, but somehow Biggins is more amusing.
Or is it?
Let me know what you think.
Biggins came from Tyldesley, a place that's even harder to find than to spell.
Ah well, at least it really is 'up north', and Biggins might qualifiy as a 'Northener'.
Me, I come from Bristol, a historic city in the South West.
Final error, me - not Northener.
Anyone know that??

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Science Fiction fanzines

Tripe Pickers Journal

Okay, let's get this straight.
The title comes from a science fiction fanzine of the 1970s.
It comes from the fact that me and my co-author (Steve Biggins) were writing for people in the south (of England) and trying to make up for the fact that they had some misapprehensions about us Northeners.
They thought we ate tripe.
And picked it.
(And shovelled it onto lorries, if I remember rightly.)

The truth is - I don't (any of it).

Who's getting tripey in Salford (Manchester) ?

Tripe Pickers Journal

Strictly speaking, Salford isn't Manchester.
I lived in Manchester for many years, starting in the 1970s.
Mainly in the south of the city, where the weather is warmer, the sunshine is brighter, and the people run around with happy smiles on their faces and money in their pockets.
Was it all so simple then, or has time rewritten all the lines?
Manchester is across the river from Salford, a place that claims it became a city first, and was the first place in England to have traffic lights.
Some people dispute this.
Some people say that Manchester United football ground is in Salford, but it isn't. It's across the river in Trafford. (It's a winding river.)
We can see the ground from the end of our street.
So near, and yet so far.

A call from Tony Blair

Tripe Pickers Journal

How is it that all plastic ducks are yellow?

The telephone was ringing and it would not stop.
It was Tony Blair, calling me up.
He said, 'My friend Mike, what do we need to make this country grow?'
I said, 'My friend Tone, good seeds, warm sun, lots of rain and snow.
Country will grow.'

How to wake up Sunday morning

Hey, who said it was easy working on your computer on a Sunday morning?
The butler's having a day off.
The sheep have escaped from the paddock again.
And it's raining. (Who could have guessed? This is Manchester. It never rains in Manchester, fellahs. Honest.)
Give me a minute. I need to summon the maid and tell her to draw me a warm bath.
See you later.