My colleague took part in "CEO challange" last night during which he fought a chef.
Very exciting, full contact. Our man won.
Big respect!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BH-L2pB7Mvw
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VCm-dAW9iJc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQP7tqjgx5Y
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Linden Lea
Friday was a significant day for 3 reasons.
1) It's been a year since I started learning to sing
2) It was the first time since 19(cough cough cough) that I have officially sung in public.
3) It is the firs time since I was in a band at Uni that I've played guitar in public.
2005 Hong Kong 7's. Friday night. Traveling from the stadium to Central. Walking down a long, echo-laden tunnel at a MTR station. My friend Rob and I "lost that lovin' feeling" (how very Top Gun) and, don't you know it, the rest of the people in the tunnel lost it too. I found it incredibly gratifying that I could get a whole tunnel full of people to start singing.
I mention this because that was a time this decade that I have sung in public. However it doesn't count cos I was drunk and it wasn't official. Karaoke doesn't count either. Even the time friend JB and I sang "Relax" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood and a bra landed on JB's head, thrown by an over-excited lady in the crowd (she asked for it back later).
Anyhow, here is the song
http://www.ianpartridge.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/linden.html
It went quite well. Guitar playing needs work though.
1) It's been a year since I started learning to sing
2) It was the first time since 19(cough cough cough) that I have officially sung in public.
3) It is the firs time since I was in a band at Uni that I've played guitar in public.
2005 Hong Kong 7's. Friday night. Traveling from the stadium to Central. Walking down a long, echo-laden tunnel at a MTR station. My friend Rob and I "lost that lovin' feeling" (how very Top Gun) and, don't you know it, the rest of the people in the tunnel lost it too. I found it incredibly gratifying that I could get a whole tunnel full of people to start singing.
I mention this because that was a time this decade that I have sung in public. However it doesn't count cos I was drunk and it wasn't official. Karaoke doesn't count either. Even the time friend JB and I sang "Relax" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood and a bra landed on JB's head, thrown by an over-excited lady in the crowd (she asked for it back later).
Anyhow, here is the song
http://www.ianpartridge.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/linden.html
It went quite well. Guitar playing needs work though.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Spiderman
Work today ground to an absolute halt for the half an hour that it took Alain Robert (Spiderman) to climb up the outside of the Four Seasons Hotel.
Awesome to watch live
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
No soup for you!
This blog isn't actually about the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld. It is instead about the Yoga Nazi, that being me.
I was at Yoga yesterday, got there a bit early and was trying to get into the correct, peaceful frame of mind for the class. The only thing standing between me and this admirable goal was the blonde girl conversing merrily away with a chinese gentleman. They weren't whispering, they were chatting.
After a bit of sitting and huffing and thinking, I finally went over to them to suggest, very politely, that they go outside if they wanted to chat. Being quiet in the Yoga room is one of the rules of the Club, I may add.
Having told them, the girl then pointed out that another couple were also talking, rather more quietly, it must be said. So I had to go and ask them to be quiet. Then on the way back to my mat, another pair started up, so I had to ask them also.
By the time I got back to my mat I was fuming, felt like the form prefect, and far away from the state of transcendental magnificence I had hoped to achieve.
It turned out that most of the chatters hadn't been to Yoga very much at all.
I mention all this as my friend FMG, when presented with the same situation some weeks ago, elected to do nothing and sulk quietly. This didn't seem to do her peace of mind any good either.
So next time, I'm going to bring my iPod in there to block out the noise. I wonder if anyone will come over to talk about the tsh tsh tsh noise they can hear from my headphones.
I was at Yoga yesterday, got there a bit early and was trying to get into the correct, peaceful frame of mind for the class. The only thing standing between me and this admirable goal was the blonde girl conversing merrily away with a chinese gentleman. They weren't whispering, they were chatting.
After a bit of sitting and huffing and thinking, I finally went over to them to suggest, very politely, that they go outside if they wanted to chat. Being quiet in the Yoga room is one of the rules of the Club, I may add.
Having told them, the girl then pointed out that another couple were also talking, rather more quietly, it must be said. So I had to go and ask them to be quiet. Then on the way back to my mat, another pair started up, so I had to ask them also.
By the time I got back to my mat I was fuming, felt like the form prefect, and far away from the state of transcendental magnificence I had hoped to achieve.
It turned out that most of the chatters hadn't been to Yoga very much at all.
I mention all this as my friend FMG, when presented with the same situation some weeks ago, elected to do nothing and sulk quietly. This didn't seem to do her peace of mind any good either.
So next time, I'm going to bring my iPod in there to block out the noise. I wonder if anyone will come over to talk about the tsh tsh tsh noise they can hear from my headphones.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Lift of Death
On Friday, a colleague and I boldly entered Lift C, hereafter referred to as the Lift of Death. The lift was supposed to take us downstairs. What it actually did was
a) close the doors
b) make some disturbingly mechanical noises
c) lurch violently 2 feet upwards.
d) come to a complete standstill.
Luckily the "door open" button worked and we were able to jump down the short distance to the safety of the lift lobby floor.
I bet the guys at Shindler are having a big laugh about that one....
a) close the doors
b) make some disturbingly mechanical noises
c) lurch violently 2 feet upwards.
d) come to a complete standstill.
Luckily the "door open" button worked and we were able to jump down the short distance to the safety of the lift lobby floor.
I bet the guys at Shindler are having a big laugh about that one....
Sunday, March 16, 2008
You can't read the same book twice
You can't read the same book twice, because you are not the same person and it's not the same errr.... book..... hmmm.
I am re-reading a number of books I have not read for 15 years. Why haven't I re-read them before? (apologies to people who think re-reading books is a waste of time). I am re-reading them because I went to the storage facility (in Basingstoke) and got them out of storage, where they had been languishing and going gently yellow since 1993. The cumulative cost of storing my belongings in the excitingly urban Basingstoke (described in one guidebook as "The Venice of the North") runs into the thousands of pounds.
So, exactly what was in storage? It was like a Blue Peter time capsule except not nearly as fun. There were 30,000,000 books, 1 rotary saw bench and a number of articles of clothing, which I have to say, in the cold light of 2007, looked ghastly. And let's not forget the device to measure the hight of trees and suchlike, complete with nice leather case. And the kilt, the kukri, my collection of movies on VHS ( ah yes...), the half empty bottle of tequila and so on and so forth.
Anyway, I removed a sample of the books and have been re-reading them ever since. Some of them are really not very good now and I am quite shocked to see how my taste has changed over the intervening years.
For everyone who is even vaguely interested (and my dear friend H who is not interested and so charitably referred to me as a liver biopsy, and not in a post-modern way, I might add), here is the top 3 books which have stood the test of time well.
1) The Big Show - Pierre Clostermann
http://www.amazon.com/Big-Show-Greatest-Pilots-Story/dp/0297846191/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1205759567&sr=8-1
2) Journey To The Centre Of The Earth - Richard and Nicholas Crane
http://www.amazon.com/Journey-Centre-Earth-Richard-Crane/dp/0552132128/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1205759762&sr=1-1
3) Radix - A.A. Attanasio
http://www.amazon.com/Radix-Attanasio/dp/0553254065/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1205759859&sr=1-1
I couldn't find any of my Bruce Chatwin books and that's a great shame. He wrote beautifully and I am confident I would enjoy his books today.
Enough of this literary stuff. Anyone want to buy a rotary saw bench?
I am re-reading a number of books I have not read for 15 years. Why haven't I re-read them before? (apologies to people who think re-reading books is a waste of time). I am re-reading them because I went to the storage facility (in Basingstoke) and got them out of storage, where they had been languishing and going gently yellow since 1993. The cumulative cost of storing my belongings in the excitingly urban Basingstoke (described in one guidebook as "The Venice of the North") runs into the thousands of pounds.
So, exactly what was in storage? It was like a Blue Peter time capsule except not nearly as fun. There were 30,000,000 books, 1 rotary saw bench and a number of articles of clothing, which I have to say, in the cold light of 2007, looked ghastly. And let's not forget the device to measure the hight of trees and suchlike, complete with nice leather case. And the kilt, the kukri, my collection of movies on VHS ( ah yes...), the half empty bottle of tequila and so on and so forth.
Anyway, I removed a sample of the books and have been re-reading them ever since. Some of them are really not very good now and I am quite shocked to see how my taste has changed over the intervening years.
For everyone who is even vaguely interested (and my dear friend H who is not interested and so charitably referred to me as a liver biopsy, and not in a post-modern way, I might add), here is the top 3 books which have stood the test of time well.
1) The Big Show - Pierre Clostermann
http://www.amazon.com/Big-Show-Greatest-Pilots-Story/dp/0297846191/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1205759567&sr=8-1
2) Journey To The Centre Of The Earth - Richard and Nicholas Crane
http://www.amazon.com/Journey-Centre-Earth-Richard-Crane/dp/0552132128/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1205759762&sr=1-1
3) Radix - A.A. Attanasio
http://www.amazon.com/Radix-Attanasio/dp/0553254065/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1205759859&sr=1-1
I couldn't find any of my Bruce Chatwin books and that's a great shame. He wrote beautifully and I am confident I would enjoy his books today.
Enough of this literary stuff. Anyone want to buy a rotary saw bench?
Monday, March 3, 2008
A name by any other.....errrr...name
So, I'm a little bit behind the curve here. I only learned about FuBu's last summer through an extremely interesting conversation with a vegan lady (but more on that another time).
I was having a casual conversation with B today, I was trying to work out if her friend, with whom she enjoyed occasional carnal relations was, in fact, a friend or a FuBu. B was saying he was a friend first. I was saying that I thought a FuBu was someone you had gratuitous hot sex with on an occasional basis but, and here's the distinction, you didn't actually have to like.
I mean when you are scuba diving, you have a buddy. You don't have to like them. They are your responsibility and you have to stop them taking off their BCDs and trying to breathe water when the have nitrogen narcosis.
B disagrees. She thinks you have to like your FuBu for them to be a FuBu. Otherwise they are just a GoFu if the sex is good, or presumably a BuFu in which case they don't get asked back for a second go.
Interestingly, the Japanese for Fubu is "secu-frie". This is short hand for "sex friend" for a race of people who like to truncate words and are missing several important english consonants.
A brief sourjon onto the net doesn't show my definition of Fubu. What we get is
As for the second definition, it will never replace FUBAR in my heart.
I was having a casual conversation with B today, I was trying to work out if her friend, with whom she enjoyed occasional carnal relations was, in fact, a friend or a FuBu. B was saying he was a friend first. I was saying that I thought a FuBu was someone you had gratuitous hot sex with on an occasional basis but, and here's the distinction, you didn't actually have to like.
I mean when you are scuba diving, you have a buddy. You don't have to like them. They are your responsibility and you have to stop them taking off their BCDs and trying to breathe water when the have nitrogen narcosis.
B disagrees. She thinks you have to like your FuBu for them to be a FuBu. Otherwise they are just a GoFu if the sex is good, or presumably a BuFu in which case they don't get asked back for a second go.
Interestingly, the Japanese for Fubu is "secu-frie". This is short hand for "sex friend" for a race of people who like to truncate words and are missing several important english consonants.
A brief sourjon onto the net doesn't show my definition of Fubu. What we get is
| Acronym | Definition |
|---|---|
| FUBU | For Us By Us (clothing brand) |
| FUBU | Fouled Up Beyond Understanding (polite form) |
| FUBU | Fouled Up Beyond Use (polite form) |
| FUBU | Fouled Up By User |
As for the second definition, it will never replace FUBAR in my heart.
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