Falling Sky

Seen 'Up'? See This!

Here's a pleasant treat this fine evening from the lovely folks at Pixar, though it'll only make an ounce of sense to you if you've seen the magnificent Up (and if you haven't... why are you even reading this? Go! See! Then come back and continue reading). It's an animated short in the spirit of the brilliant Wall-E companion short Burn-E, though animated much like an animatic, no lipsync but plenty of motion and colour, focusing on apparently incidental characters from the main film and sticking with them. Remember the two care home workers who come to take Carl away? Well, here's what happened to them afterwards. Best use of cats ever.

Mandelbulbous!

Things That Should Not Be - Elf Power

Four years ago I posted this story about the Octacube, an attempt at producing a four-dimensional object in three dimensions. Now it's got some similarly freaky company in the form of a 3D CG rendering of the Mandelbrot set - the Mandelbulb. 

   

It may look like a piece of virtuoso knitting, but the makers of an image they call the Mandelbulb claim it is most accurate three-dimensional representation to date of the most famous fractal equation: the Mandelbrot set.

 

Fractal figures are generated by an "iterative" procedure: you apply an equation to a number, apply the same equation to the result and repeat that process over and over again. When the results are translated into a geometric shape, they can produce striking "self-similar" images, forms that contain the same shapes at different scales; for instance, some look uncannily like a snowflake. The tricky part is finding an equation that produces an interesting image.

 

The most famous fractal equation is the 2D Mandelbrot set, named after the mathematician Benoît Mandelbrot of Yale University, who coined the name "fractals" for the resulting shapes in 1975.

via www.newscientist.com

Check out the Mandelbulb website for more of these truly boggling renderings of this incredibly intricate digital form - amazing stuff.

The Big Payback

The Payback - James Brown

I'll keep this brief because it'll only be of interest to a few people (plus ca change?) and I'd hate it to come across as crowing about a rare instance of good fortune - BUT! If it helps inspire anybody reading to do the same and get a similar result, it's definitely worthwhile.

Now, a few years ago BC (Before Chatiry), I took out a loan from Egg to, as they say, consolidate a bunch of different debts, the amount being an eye-watering five figures. I don't regret the loan itself, it was necessary at the time, though I do regret a lot of the spending that led to that debt (It was all too easy back then to think I'd always be in debt, so what was the harm in adding a bit more? Berk!) but such is the luxury of hindsight. However, in taking the loan out I was strongly advised to take out Payment Protection Insurance (PPI), an extra cost on top of the loan and interest that theoretically covers payment if you're unable to pay due to ill health, unemployment, that sort of thing - the implication from the loan advisor was that the loan application would not be approved by Egg without me agreeing to some level of PPI, so I did. I got the loan and began the 72 monthly payments to clear it in 2012.

Time passed. I met the Missus and she introduced me to Martin Lewis' MoneySavingExpert website and weekly newsletter (which every UK-based reader should be signed up to, it's a national treasure). A year or so ago I start taking notice of part of the MSE site devoted to reclaiming - initially it was the bank charges section that caught my eye, but then I read about PPI reclaiming. Here's Mr Lewis giving a summary of the situation...

So PPI wasn't essential after all? Hrmph!

MSE's video and pieces on PPI reclaiming sounded as though it could be relevant to my own loan, but I was initially nervous about doing anything in case it somehow affected my credit score or would cause the lender to call in the debt early. However, such fears are utterly unfounded - as MSE notes, the very least that can happens is that your claim is rejected - and the MSE forums contained more and more examples of people successfully reclaiming against Egg for similar PPI. The MSE site contains straightforward form letters and leads you through the whole reclaiming process, so I figured - why not? It sounded like my case applied as an example of mis-selling, but I didn't know whether I had a successful claim or how long it would take. So, having requested a copy of the original loan agreement from Egg, a few weeks ago I sent a letter generated from the MSE template covering the circumstances of the loan and asking for a refund of the PPI on the loan.

Today I got my first full response from Egg. And it's a complete and total refund of the PPI that I've paid for over all these years, a total sum of over £2,300. Honestly, over two grand. I honestly thought I would have to fight for this, but it would seem the guilty parties have learned it's better to just 'fess up and pay out. I've ploughed it all into the loan amount itself, bringing the date it's completely paid off that much closer than before. And if I'd never seen the MSE website I wouldn't even have known I'd been mis-sold anything in the first bloody place, much less know that I could claim in back!

Martin Lewis is clearly doing his best to get this information out there on television and newspapers, but I suspect there's still a huge number of loan customers out there who were pretty much forced into taking out PPI that they didn't want or need, unaware that they're due every penny they've paid for it back. So if you, or anyone you know, has taken out a loan in the last seven years and there's PPI on it that's not wanted - take action. There's nothing to lose and a potentially huge amount to gain. All it takes is a letter.

Happy Chazmas!

Yes, it's been that wonderful time of the year when we celebrate the arrival of my lovely Missus onto this unworthy planet all them years ago. As with other key national festivals, Chazmas has been marked with fine food, good company and a Doctor Who special (and what a cracker that was!). So how did we celebrate here at Castle Von Naggle?

Things kicked off nicely on Chazmas Eve (Sunday) when our ol' muckers the Dunns came over from Glasgow, complete with a trachy-free Emily who was in fine voice and top form. As she is currently mastering the use of computers, I fear it won't be long before I am no longer required for her complex machinations of the financial markets, but her plans to profit from the wavering fortunes of derivatives through the canny deployment of leverage reached fruition on Sunday, as the photo shows. Others might say that it was taken when we were looking at Yo Gabba Gabba, not Bloomberg, but maybe that's just what we want them to think. Em's dad is now uploading examples of his artwork onto Flickr and I would strongly urge you to check them out, the man's got a very good eye for using the white space of a page rather than stuffing it to burst and there's some really lovely use of watercolour there with a subtlety often lacking in modern illustration. It's always a pleasure spending time with the Dunns - watching Rob and Emily use the Photo Booth effects on the iMac to produce some eye-bogglingly bizarre imagery was a highlight - and it's been amazing to see how far the Emster has come in just a couple of years. Stars, all three of them.

 

As Chazmas tradition decrees, a great spread of homemade nosh was served up by the Missus & I, with me making the most of the opportunity to cook up some meaty goodies. Shown above are, starting from the bottom-right, homemade sausages (though without skins they ended up looking more like meatballs) made with Ballencrieff pork, then chicken goujons with meat sourced from Hugh Grierson, both recipes from Rachel Allen's Favourite Food At Home, with halved baked potatoes stuffed with cheese, onion & potato (and, for the carnivores, Riever bacon) from Nigella Lawson's Christmas. Up at the top of the pic, the almost-birthday-girl made some sweet potato falafel from the excellent Leon cookbook, then at the top-right there's some apple flapjacks I did from Leith's Vegetable Bible and some angel fairy-shaped cookies by the Missus which Emster cheerfully decapitated.

Alongside that, a big bowl of blue tortilla chips and the obligatory Mr Vikkis chutney goodness, along with our own homemade mango chutney (from the National Trust's ace Preserves recipe book), plus some delicious homemade mini-pizzas by the Missus and bowls of hummus and creme-fraiche, honey & mustard sauce rounding it all off nicely. And then... the cake, though maybe it should be called The Beast.

 

It doesn't actually look all that big in the above snap - look at this one for a sense of scale. It's ludicrously big and ludicrously buttery/sugary/chocolatey, and in retrospect not a smart choice for my wife's birthday unless we had her entire extended family with us to help eat it. I guess I wanted to make something impressive and put the Magnolia Bakery cookbook we'd been given as a wedding gift to use, going for one of their more restrained cakes, covered with chocolate buttercream icing. It tastes lovely but, lordy, you need a bit of a sit-down afterwards - and going by the ingredients, a vigorous exercise regime later on to balance it out. Cake-based showing off? Guilty as charged. Next year it'll be something altogether smaller, less über-sweet and manageable for a two-person household.

 

On Chazmas itself my good lady chose Henderson's Bistro for lunch, a vegetarian bistro in the centre of Edinburgh. I plumped for a Moroccan stew shown above, nice big chunks of aubergine and butternut squash in a suitably spicy sauce, served with couscous (£8.50). After the veritable meatfest of Sunday, it felt good to have something relatively light yet still filling, and the flavour of the stew was excellent. Certainly a place we'll head to again - the grilled vegetable enchiladas sound particularly delicious.

   

While the rest of the Missus's birthday was spent at home, keeping cosy and inactive, yesterday saw us heading over to the Royal Botanic Gardens for breakfast, specifically the brand spanking new John Hope Gateway centre which only opened a couple of months ago. It's a beautiful building clad in stone and wood, topped with a graceful curvaceous column of a windmill that was spinning like the clappers while we were there, generating a multitude of watts in the process. The interior was equally impressive, wood and green in abundance, the tables of the restaurant proclaiming the tree they used to be. While my sweetheart went for a stack of good-looking pancakes, I plumped for the full Scottish breakfast (£10.50 including tea/coffee and toast). More than one would usually pay for a cooked breakfast, sure, but by Jove do you get what you pay for. As you can see above, the breakfast isn't served in the usual big-pile-of-stuff all mixed up in baked beans as usual, but instead lets you appreciate each bit of the breakfast on its own. Usually I'd pile on the brown sauce but with ingredients this good it would've been a crime - highlights were a sharply seasoned fried egg, a supremely juicy mushroom, a fantastic slice of haggis that managed to be neither too dry or too stodgy, and best of all, a slice of Stornaway black pudding that in one mouthful demonstrated why it deserves protected status, so delicious that I almost started gibbering with praise. Easily one of the finest breakfasts I've ever had the pleasure to devour, we'll definitely be back for more.

The Finger Must Flow

Fingertips - Bill Doggett

Back from the WEMP after being congratulated for my tremendous peak flow which is back up to where it ought to be (550-610, apparently) so that's the lungs settling back to normality. A few more days winding down the steroids, then a swine flu jab next week and that should be the end of medical-related postings here for quite some time, knock-on-virtual-wood.

What does a boot drawn on MS Paint have to do with that? Well now, that there picture above wasn't drawn on MS Paint, or any other desktop app for that matter. Going through the recent feed for Urlesque I was pointed towards a post on Today In Art on artwork created on iPhones/iPod Touchs. And they're pretty bloody impressive, especially when you consider they were created on a 3.5" diagonal screen... with fingertips. Intrigued, I had a look at one of the applications listed in said post, Sketchbook Mobile from Autodesk, they of the mighty Maya. As well as the full version (priced at £1.79) there's a free version, Sketchbook MobileX, which I downloaded and installed on the touchy Spod just before heading out to the Doc this afternoon. Sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by the poorly-but-definitely-not-swine-fluey, I decide to give it a spin. The instructions and controls are simply and effectively demonstrated, allowing you to get started almost immediately.

Now, drawing with my finger is something I don't think I've done since I was a toddler making shapes in sand and it's a peculiar feeling, especially after being so used to using pencils, pens, brushes, some kind of interface between me and the surface. So a bit of a mental shift is required to get into drawing on this, and to be honest I'd feel happier with a stylus or something similar. Having said that, the lack of stylus means this really is utterly portable - have finger, will draw. I first had a go at drawing a bin but immediately arsed it up, very difficult to pull off the smooth oval curves, so I erased that brief monstrosity with the briefest of clicks and surreptitiously stared around for something else to draw, settling on a bloke's boot-clad foot. The result, which must have taken about 5-10 minutes, is above.

As a sketch, it's crude compared to what I'd expect doing the same with pencil & paper, but for a first start on a new drawing medium I'm pretty happy with it and curious to see just how far I can take this app, considering the work others have already produced. The use of colour was particularly enjoyable and I do rather like the effect I got of the folds on the blue jeans. Most of all, it was pleasantly surprising how easily I slipped into that sketching mindset when drawing, despite the odd medium - made me realise how much I missed it. Something like Sketchbook Mobile could never replace a proper sketchbook, but the sheer portability of it (I'm very rarely without my touchy Spod) will hopefully encourage me to have a sketch at any opportune time, safe in the knowledge that anything particularly shit can simply be deleted. An empty touchscreen isn't half as scary as an empty page.

(MP3 taken from Funky16Corners Radio v.59 - Hammond Madness!)

It's Time To Laugh Again

Breathe Some New Life - Paul Westerberg

Hello! Just a wee yelp to assure the world that I have not come to a horrible respiratory-based ending following the previous post. Bless those mood-shifting steroids, they seemed to do their job after a few days of going nowhere and I was able to get back into work today. The morning was tricky, found it hard to focus my thoughts and couldn't figure whether this was a steroid side-effect or just a brain dusty from a week away from the staggeringly convoluted work I do. Whatever it was, my lunchtime soup seemed to make it all go away with remarkable speed - Moroccan Tomato & Chickpea soup, made from this recipe with some roasted tomato passata of our own, top notch - and I wombled through the rest of today feeling much like my normal self again, with barely a whisper of a wheeze. Doesn't feel like lung capacity is quite back up to normal levels yet, and I'll be going to the doctor tomorrow to figure out how to get over the last 7 days and any ways to lower the risk of it happening again, though I guess it's going to be with me for life one way or t'other.

Still, I feel safe in watching things that make me laugh out loud again, having been scared off them after damn near going into a coughing fit listening to Adam Buxton's impressions of life at home with Brian Blessed & Simon Callow last week. I was particularly afraid of what The Thick Of It might do to me, so we've yet to have seen the most recent episode - dare I watch it tonight? I think I do!

(Why do I feel like I've just tempted fate with a huge red flag? Inhaler at the ready, just to be sure.)

Wheezy Does It

see more Political Pictures

What's an asthmatic to do?  For the first time since May last year, I've had a serious bout of breathing trouble - not as bad as then, since I took action this time before my voice vanished, but still enough to warrant a steroid burst of mood-shifting drugs which I'll be on for the next few days. I'd probably be in a constant massive grump if not for the constant love and care of The Missus. As a result, I was off sick on Thursday and Friday and have continued to be wheezy all weekend.

So it's Monday tomorrow and here's my worry. On the one hand, I don't want to take any more time off work sick, knowing the hassle that would follow, especially as my workplace uses the 'Bradford factor' for sick leave monitoring. On t'other, I don't want to go to work and pick up H1N1 from one of my many sneezing colleagues while my lungs are weak, ending up in hospital. On t'other other hand, I'd hate to appear like some hysterical hypercondriac who's been swept up in the swine flu media frenzy. On t'other other other hand, going to the GP last week made it clear just how worried doctors et al are about people classed as 'at risk' picking up H1N1, hence the roll-out of vaccine to us risky types this month, as did Fergus Walsh's recent blog post and advisory Q&A from Asthma UK.

Infuriatingly, I was due to get the H1N1 vaccine this coming Wednesday, but can't whilst on these here steroids, so I need to get better before getting the jab. And my worry this evening is - if I go to work pre-vaccine, still wheezy, am I leaving myself unnecessarily vulnerable to infection, given the risk that infection carries for my feckless lungs and the apparent propensity for others in my open-plan workplace to come into work while ill? Or should I just man up, stop fretting, get on with work as normal and hope for the best? It's rather surprising to actually find myself in the position of dreading swine flu after months of basically dismissing it, but this pre-vaccine period seems to present a window of opportunity that gives me the fear. If I didn't have asthma, I wouldn't be fussed, but as it is... well, it's all a bit unsettling.

Sun Shines In The Rusty Morning

via www.boston.com

Intersecting swirling trails left by the earlier passage of dust devils across sand dunes, as they lifted lighter reddish-pink dust and exposed the darker material below. Also visible are darker slope streaks along dune edges, formed by a process which is still under investigation.(NASA/JPL/University of Arizona)

Pixies: Bird Dream Of The Olympus Mons

Even by The Big Picture's consistently high standards, this is a real treat. 35 photographs taken by the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter since 2006 of the Martian landscape, 187 miles above the surface. They're quite remarkable and worth taking time to look at, landscapes that are both reminiscent of satellite photographs of Earth yet unmistakably alien, unmarked by the mucky paw of humans (well, #9 aside). And is that red weed I see?

(No, of course not - it's part of the Martian South Polar Cap.)

Scene From A Tollcross Bus Stop

Well, that was odd.

So there I am, waiting at a bus stop in Tollcross an hour ago, heading home after stopping off in town to get the usual saucy hit from my dealer, listening to Fuck Buttons' new album (stompingly good it is too) at a respectfully low volume. Three people in the queue - lady in (at a guess) her late 30's, old bloke around late 60's, me.  Old bloke looks at me, moves forward and gestures in a neutral way that suggests conversation.

I pop the headphones out. "Yes sir?" (respectful as always)

Waves a pointy finger in the general direction of my head. "What's that in your ears? What are you listening to?"

Quickly realise that naming the band in question would be a bad idea - "Uh, music."

Eyes get wider. "What are you doing that for?  Take them out!"

"Um, I'm just listening to some music, I've had a long day at work"

Turns away disgusted.  One minute later, turns around.  "Why've you got those things in your ears?  What are you listening to?"

"Music.  Just some music"

A minute passes.  Out of nowhere, he says: "Alright, keep calm, keep calm!"

Befuddled at what prompted this: "I am calm."

Looks increasingly exasperated.  "Why are... why are you listening to music?  Fuckin' pathetic!"

My eyebrows hit the ceiling. "I like listening to music, I've been in an office for ten hours, I think I've earned this."

He's hooked on the fuckin' pathetic meme now and jabs pointy-pointy in the direction of my right headphone. "Listening to music. Why are... och, that's fuckin' pathetic that is. Fuckin' pathetic.

(Let's be super clear here, this wasn't from having the music blaring out from the headphones - the volume was low, and even if it had been at top whack the traffic noise rumbling past would've drowned it out.)

I shrug, figure this isn't going anywhere, pop my headphones back in.  This increases his frustration and I can hear him over the bleepy scronk I'm listening to.  "That's just... och, fuckin' pathetic. Fuckin' pathetic" Keeps staring at me. I ignore him.

Receiving no further response from me, he turns to the lady, points in my general direction. "Y'see that... listening to music... fuckin' pathetic that" clearly expecting agreement.  This is not what he gets.

"No it's not, he's just listening to some music and you're picking on him, he's not hurting anyone and you're swearing like that... I don't mind him listening to his music but I do mind you swearing like that."

Oh crumbs. "Wuh... It's... listening to music..."

"He's just listening to music, stop being rude."  Thanks lady!  I'm still listening to my music to show I will not be stopped by this oppression.

Man to the lady: "Are you from 'round here?"

What?  "What? From Edinburgh? Yes I am from Edinburgh, and if you're not you should go back from where you came."

Oh lawd.  Still no bus.  It's only 20 minutes walk.  And as my very presence appears to be causing intergenerational social collapse on the streets of the capital, I turn on my heels and stride away, imagining that in some bizarre way maybe this looks like I've been victorious, rather than driven away from a bus stop by the hassle of a sweary old geezer. I wasn't upset by it or anything, it was just annoying in a bizarre, 'is this actually happening' sort of way.

So away I stride. Look at me, world, I think, I'm walking! I'm healthy! And I'm listening to music! Considering the time that passed before the bus I was waiting for finally overtook me, leaving was the best move, but in retrospect I would love to know how things turned out, to have thanked the lady for sticking up for me, and delivered some of the witty, cutting remarks that only came to mind five minutes after I'd walked away. And maybe tell him exactly what I was listening to.

Back In The Kitchin

There's already been two reviews of the day we went to the Kitchin earlier this month - you can read the Missus's here, or AA Gill's here (though he was there for the dinner menu, it was the same day). My gibberings follow!

I'd never heard of The Kitchin, the Leith-based Michelin-starred restaurant, until I went there for a belated christmas lunch with work colleagues in January this year, after which I've been champing at the financial bit to go back, partly to see how the menu changes with the season, mainly to introduce my good lady to the food there. The former point relates to the importance that head chef Tom Kitchin puts on seasonal food - and while it feels like all chefs and restaurants currently trumpet their belief in seasonal food, Kitchin really seems to practice what he preaches. More than the buzzword du jour, the concept of seasonal food is presented as the cornerstone of The Kitchin, reflected in the motto From Nature To Plate (the title of Kitchin's new recipe book, which we'll be checking out in a few weeks time). As to the latter, while I had cheerfully feasted on meaty goodness at the January lunch, the vegetarians of the group were equally enthusiastic about the quality of the meat-free food at the Kitchin. Finding decent restaurants that serve vegetarian food to as high a standard as their meat mains isn't always easy, so this was something I really wanted to share with the Missus.

Poetically enough, it was through the process of her becoming Missus - ie, we got married - that the opportunity arose, thanks to my new work colleagues (I'm now in a different building, same employer) clubbing together to get us vouchers for the Kitchin as a wedding present. Although presented with them in June, it's taken four months for us to be able to find the right time to go - while it's open on a Saturday, I much preferred the thought of going during the week - but a couple of weeks back, fighting back cold-related sniffles, we finally found a window in our calendars on a Tuesday. So, how'd it go?

Well, we went along for lunch rather than dinner - with the set lunch menu, you can get three courses for £24.50, two of which would be covered by the voucher, whereas the a la carte prices are notably higher and would've made a dent in our wallets even with the voucher. As for the tasting menu... well, a glutton can dream, because goodness knows what salary I'd need to be on before I could justify £65 plus drinks for dinner, though I've no doubt the quality would make it worthwhile. First Minister? Anyhoo, the Kitchin hasn't noticeably changed in nine months, nor does it need to, though curiously it felt smaller, cosier, more intimate this time round, the difference of not being in a large room-filling group. Though undoubtedly more relaxed than other restaurants of a similar standard (or so I presume), and even though I knew to expect it from last time, it's still a bit odd having waiting staff unfolding the napkin or refilling our water glasses with a bottle already on the table, since we've always expected to do that sort of thing ourselves. Still, it's not as if that's all the waiting staff do - on the contrary, they were excellent, knowledgeable in the food yet with an air to relax rather than to intimidate as the cliché of the high-class waiter leads you to expect. Speed of service was impressive without giving the impression of being rushed, the sense being of a well-oiled machine running smoothly, attentive but not intrusive.

Right, nosh!

One of the highlights of the January lunch was the appetiser, a cream of celeriac soup that was just bursting with flavour, so I was looking forward to seeing what little goodie turned up before the lunch proper. We weren't disappointed, presented with a little bowl of superb roast pumpkin soup, as rich and flavourful as that celeriac soup, topped off nicely with toasted pumpkin seeds. So good! Appetite suitably teased, onto the starter.

What's that, you yelp. Ravioli of braised squid served in a languistine consomme, I answer. Uh... okay, you say edging away. But stop! Whatever your experience or expectation of eating squid, this was a revelation. If I didn't know that there ravioli contained squid, I would never have guessed, nor could I have imagined what it was. Braised, that squid became something fascinating and new to my tastebuds, closer perhaps to sausagement in texture than anything else, yet with a flavour all of its own somewhere between meat and fish, complemented with a sweetly sour consomme so good that I struggled to resist the urge to slurp every last drop from the bowl. One suspects such things just aren't done in swanky restaurants, but if I'd had a straw handy...

Main! And that, chums, is roast mallard from Perthshire, served with wild Scottish mushrooms and sauce 'aux abats', (the latter translates as offal, in case you were wondering). Rubbish photo, taken too close to the dish and with low lighting it really does the food no justice whatsoever. This was wonderful, in another world entirely from the usual duck dishes available at take-aways and gastropubs, the meat succulent and tender, draped with a rich sauce that made every bite a pleasure to savour without overpouring the flavour of the dear departed duck.

Rounding off the meal, here's the dessert - pistachio soufflé served with pistachio ice cream. Two pistachio flavoured sweets sounds worryingly samey, but no! Instead it's a textbook example of just how differently one flavour can be prepared. The ice cream was cold (fancy that!) and smooth, triggering taste nostalgia of pistachio ice cream in France when I was a kid, countered by the hot and perfectly risen soufflé. It was a treat to note how both clearly tasted of pistachio, yet at the same time were so different, complementing each other nicely. Most of all, both soufflé and ice cream were sodding delicious, rounding off the lunch perfectly.

It'd be nice to be able to have at least one critical thing to say about the whole shebang, but it's annoyingly impossible - the Kitchin yet again proved itself to be adventurous, ingenious and surprising in its dishes, while still keeping its ingredients firmly rooted in Scotland. Service was impeccable, friendly, utterly devoid of snobbishness. Both lunches there have been absolute solid-gold knockouts, so good that £24.50 stops being a rather high figure for a lunch and starts looking like a downright bargain in terms of getting what you pay for. If you're ever in Edinburgh and want a meal to remember, a real treat, I find it very hard to imagine you could do any better elsewhere in the city - or beyond, as the ever-increasing award haul suggests. Go, go, go. And take us with you.