Confusion Reigns Supreme

...or more specifically the rainforests of Java, watch out for tetchy rhinos.

Nothing going on in the NotBob household today.

Dad's been out to see if he can find someone to play snooker against. He came back after one pint.
Mum's still unpacking her holiday stuff.
And me? I'm sitting in the pub with a nice pint of cider in front of me. The pub's practically empty. Where is everyone?

Let there be light

Marks Barfield, the visionary architects behind the London Eye, have come up trumps again bringing style to the middle of suburban Woking with a glorious, canalside arts centre

* Stephen Bayley
* The Observer,
* Sunday September 23 2007

The Lightbox, Woking
Marks Barfield Architects

There's more to Woking than you may imagine. True, it is the home of the very Ken Wood whose food mixers defined a certain sort of bland, mid-century middle-class suburban domesticity, but there is a darker side too. The London Necropolis opened for business at Brookwood in 1854 on 2,000 acres of Surrey landscape acquired from Lord Onslow: the world's biggest cemetery was served by the new London and South Western Railway in a macabre inversion of commuting. And in 1895, HG Wells came to live here (in a semi). The War of the Worlds was written in Woking and Wells used to bicycle the Surrey lanes in his plus-fours, looking for inspiration and finding it on Horsell Common, where he imagined the Martians would land.

But Woking is not much distinguished by quality modern architecture. The railway station does, indeed, now have a porte-cochere of solar panels to advertise newfound eco cred. And just outside town there is the megalomaniac palazzo that is the McLaren Technology Centre, an amazing result of those two astral twins, Norman Foster and Ron Dennis, coming together in a bizarre architect-client competition to outdo the other in an amazing, but near demented, quest for technological perfection. But porte-cochere and McLaren apart, nada.

A stroll across town is a dispiriting experience for the aesthete, if not for the amateur of fast-food. Where it is not a dreary, pedestrianised shoparama, enlivened only by brief moments of railway-age Victorians, it is the four-lane traffic thrash that is Victoria Way.

But on the other side of this busy road is the Basingstoke Canal, Woking's sole concession to the picturesque. And on an unpromising, cramped triangular site between the road and the canal, until recently occupied by a shed belonging to the Alzheimer's Society, Marks Barfield Architects have just completed a fine new building called the Lightbox.

Julia Barfield and her husband David Marks became famous with the London Eye, appropriated as an international symbol of London in record time: sure proof of quality design. The same will likely happen with their spectacular i360 needle in Brighton, now in the final phase of funding. But the Lightbox is altogether different. The brief to design a municipal arts centre would not always excite delirium in an architectural office, but this one got the Marks Barfield mojo working.

On an exiguous construction budget of £4.1m, they have designed an ingenious jewel that has immediately become the best building in Woking town centre. I am only sorry if that sounds like very faint praise. Constraints are an inspiration to genius, not an impediment to it.

Lightbox exploits the best aspects of its canal-side site: the fully glazed west facade faces the trees and the water. It is clad in wood with aluminium panels coloured five shades of gold and silver. Each material will acquire a distinctive patina. Inside, a toplit atrium stretches the entire length of the south side. It is what Julia Barfield calls a 'light slot', but also acts as a spatial buffer between the noisy road and the exhibition spaces. This is also the primary circulation area: you ascend via angled ramps, enjoying an interior drenched with light, but not compromised by the worst aspects of its position.

A simple, but subtle, design, it is architecture as an intelligent response to a site and architecture as the clever management of light and space. It is not architecture as facade, but there are some nice touches. Bespoke brass fittings dignify the doors and the canal-side garden is protected by a three-metre-high gabion wall. This is an interesting and attractive construction technique whose history goes back to Renaissance fortifications: a gabbione is a big cage and a gabion wall is rough-hewn rock contained within military-specification chickenwire. The result is visually pleasing, structurally sound and cost-effective. Gabion is a technique that was revived by Herzog and de Meuron in a California winery, so it is especially pleasing to find something so exotic in so unadventurous a locale.

But 'unadventurous' is misleading. There is a colourful side to Woking, as misunderstood as its darker associations. The town's 1889 Shah Jehan mosque was Britain's first. Queen Victoria's trusted servants Mohammed Buksh and Abdul Karim worshipped here and commuted (on foot) to Windsor Castle. The programmes planned for the Lightbox address the tastes of urban diversity. I am not sure that Woking truly belongs in a rollcall that begins with Medina and goes on to Samarra, Delhi and Cordoba, but I'm certain Marks Barfield Architects have made thoughtful architecture and done so on a challenging site with a modest budget. Now there really is more to Woking than you may imagine: a very good modern building.

Right, that's the gushy architectural praise heaped on it. Now let's gauge the feelings of a simple Wokinian:

It's a fucking eyesore. OK, it does look a lot better than the portacabin style single storey building that was on the site previously, but to be quite honest I feel sorry for the people living in the flats on the other side of the canal.

For months during its construction my only thoughts as I passed it were along the lines of "I hope that's going to look better when they've finished it", and sadly those same thoughts flash through my mind even now that they have. It is ghastly. A massive carbuncle in what could be a prime site for architectural magnificence.

Maybe I should take a look around inside, as I've heard that what's in there is worth a look, but compared with the exterior surely anything is better.

Lightbox

Good news: Mum's back from her galavanting in Greece, and by crikey, the dogs went crazy when she walked through the front door. That's the fastest I've seen Paddington move for months!
Bad news: Mum's back from holiday in Greece so she's been regaling us with tales of sunnier climes and it also signals the end of my semi-holiday. Back to normal on Monday. Ho-hum. All good things must come to an end and all that.

Bad news: There is no cider and no red wine left in the house.
Good news: Mum's just come back from holiday and we've hit the duty free whiskey.
Bad news: I don't know how bad my hangover is going to be after drinking that amount of whiskey (there's still plenty left, though!)
Good news(?): I'll find out tomorrow morning

Bad news: Likewise with ciggies.
Good news: Guess...
Bad news: I know I'll have to buy her some more to make up for the pack that I'm smoking this evening.
Good news: I won't feel bad about it, because it is after all's said and done, the proper thing to do.

All in all, I think it just about evens out. As the title says, swings and roundabouts.

And before you ask: Yes, mum bought me a present. A souvenir of her trip. Another
t-shirt.
It's not that I'm ungrateful, it's just that I wish we could have the weather that I could show it off in without having to cover it up with several layers of clothing and a fecking raincoat.

Right, better go now, as I have to be up for work in the afternoon. *ahem*

This afternoon I was given the heads-up about the upcoming Staff Meeting next Tuesday.

First thoughts - can I take leave on Tuesday? Can I think of a decent excuse to get out of it?

The Staff Meeting is going to be a half-hour event held down in Wilton. OK, so that's an hour and a half to get there, half hour meeting and then an hour and a half to get back. Hmm... Yes, I can see that's a really productive use of my time.

It has been mentioned, though, that some of the lower ranking members of staff (ie us lot in the support office and one, repeat ONE of the consultants) will not be able to take lunch with the rest of the team due to certain rules and regulations which were set in stone many, many years ago, so we will be heading off to some hostelry or other for lunch before heading back up to Surrey.

I hate these staff meetings. We never needed them so often when it was just us here in Surrey. Now we've amalgamated with our "sister" unit in Wilton it seems we have meetings to decide when the next meeting will be held, followed by a meeting to decide what the next meeting will be about, and quite possibly meetings to decide who's turn it is to fart (that one usually falls to me! )

Woke up this morning to bright sunshine and whispy clouds. A beautiful warm, sunny day awaits, I thought to myself.
Well, actually, what I thought was more along the lines of "Oh, gods! I suppose I'll have to take the dogs out for a crap."

The sun contined to shine down all morning, right through lunchtime (I had a nice couple of pints sitting out on the pub's patio) and into the afternoon. I nipped out for a ciggie mid-afternoon and it looked a bit dark over Will's mum's.

Ten past five, just as I was pulling out of the office car-park, it started raining gently.
By the time I got half-way home it was lashing it down.

So there you have it. English Spring this year was 0800-1700 29th May.

I do not plead poverty.
I do not seek charity.
I do not ask for anything other than what I can get for myself. (except maybe an Audi R8 )

I was merely discussing the merits of tomorrow, what with tomorrow being pay day, with a colleague down in the cancer-hut smokers' shelter when I happened to mention that I was down to my last few pennies. "Not even enough for a bag of crisps from the vending machine" I think were my exact words.

I made my way back to the office and plugged in both my phone and my iPod for recharging, when there comes a knock on the door, and my colleague leans round the door and chucks me a packet of BBQ Beef Hula Hoops with a cheery shout of "Don't say I don't do anything for ya!"

I am now nomming my favourite potato-based snack. Mmmm.

Cheers, Ronnie, you're a star!

Pole Dance special pt2

Couldn't resist this one:

Ouch!

Pole Dance special:

*Ahem*

But I still can't get over this one!

*snrk!*

I would say I'm pennyless but I actually have one whole penny in my pocket of my very own.
That's all, just one singular solitary penny. You can't even buy a penny chew for that. Or a penny whistle.
And I've run out of cider.

Roll on Friday.

Still I'm making the most of it, I'm staying at home tonight with that bottle of Merlot that my line manager gave me for Christmas as I listen to the football. Dad's watching it, I'm just listening.

Missed the end of Corrie because of the bloody footie. And it's such an important match as well, isn't it boys and girls? England v USA friendly. Really important.

Here I am, in the office for the afternoon, and I'm still waiting for the shit to hit the fan.

No sign of it yet, but I've brought an umbrella just in case.

It's dead quiet around here at the moment, I think most people are taking advantage of only having to take three days' holiday to get a full week off.

Oh, well. Better get on with these reports and stuff.

...I did a silly thing. Call it a senior moment, call it me being a bit stir crazy after a long cashless weekend, whatever.
I went in to work this afternoon.

The office was shut today. Day off in lieu of the Queen's Birthday.

Oh, the joys of the little perks of being a Civil Swervant!

Erm, yeah. Right.

I see what everyone's on about now.

I'll just be patient and wait for an explanation.

Ooops!

It's oh, so still.
I'm all alone,
And so peaceful until...

I go to bed and the dreams start again.

(Even alcohol doesn't dull them now.)

Oh, well. Off to fight my demons. Night all!

Bloody TV/Broadband provider let us downAGAIN tonight.

I'd just settled in to watching Life After People on Channel 4 tonight, and twenty minutes into it the screen went blank and my internet connection dropped out simultaneously.

3 and a half hours later it comes back on.

I was watching that while catching up with blogland.

So adding it up so far, that's 15 hours service that we've paid for that we haven't recieved in the last fortnight.

Took me bloody ages to find THIS ARTICLE. :

Got up at 9 this morning after a few hours sleep. I really shouldn't stay online until 4am, it ruins the following day.

Had a glass of water and tried to watch some telly, but I was interrupted by Paddington trying to push his face into mine. As soon as he knew he had my attention he lumbered out to the front door and sat down purposefully, as if to say "Right, nobody's going out unless they take me."

I ignored him. He sulked.

You haven't seen a sulk like the one a ten-stone dog can throw!

Penny whimpered and pawed at the patio doors to be let out for what she needed to do, so I opened the door for her. She took two steps outside and discovered it was raining. So she turned round and came straight back in, went to bed and sulked.

Great! I've now got two sulking dogs.

Eventually I gave in to Paddington and put his lead on to take him out. I also picked up Penny's lead and tried to encourage her out of bed to go walkies, but no, she wasn't having that, and she scrunched herself up as far as she could toward the back of her cage.

Fine. Be like that! At least Paddy shows willing, even if he is the only one.

So I trudged over to the common and let Paddington off the lead and he followed me round the circuit with a face like thunder. His whole demeanour was one of "I don't wanna be here. I'd rather be indoors." He stopped at the usual points where we usually stop for a biscuit, but I'd forgotten to bring any. You could see his sulkiness deepen perceptibly.

We got home and I towelled him down. He didn't like that.

Penny's still in her bed, snoring her head off, and Paddington's in his, grumping every now and then.

Who says dogs don't sulk?

I've updated one answer in the meme found HERE because I've just remembered (unfortunately) a film I hated even more than Waynes World 2.

I'd rather sit through Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey than either of these films, but TEP was so bad that I'd blocked it from my memory of the films I'd seen recently.

Become one with the enemy and hold your nerve:

Nicked from a couple of people:

1. Name a movie you have seen more than 10 times
Mans Favourite Sport?

2. Name a movie you’ve seen multiple times in the theater
Wayne's World

3. Name an actor who would make you more inclined to see a movie
Johnny Depp

4. Name an actor who would make you less likely to see a movie
Jim Carrey

5. Name a movie and do a quote from it
2001: A Space Oddysey -
Dave Bowman: "Open the pod-bay doors, HAL."

6. Name a movie musical in which you know all of the lyrics to all of the songs
I know penty of musicals, but not to that extent.

7. Name a movie you have been known to sing along with
South Pacific

8. Name a movie you would recommend everyone see
Rear Window

9. Name a movie you own
Duel

10. Name an actor who launched his/her entertainment career in another medium but who has surprised you with his/her acting chops.
Will Smith

11. Have you ever seen a movie in a drive-in?
No

12. Ever made out in a movie?
ME? You must be joking!

13. Name a movie you keep meaning to see but you just haven’t gotten around to yet.
The Green Mile

14. Ever walked out of a movie?
No, but I've come close to it a few times

15. Name a movie that made you cry in the theater.
Bambi, when they shot his mother. (I was only 6)

16. Popcorn?
Ooooh, yes please. Toffe or salted, I don't mind.

17. How often do you go to the movies
Very rarely

18. What’s the last movie you saw in the theater?
Can't remember, probably The Unforgiven

19. What’s your favorite/preferred genre of movie?
Sci-Fi/comedy

20. What’s the first movie you remember seeing in the theater?
Watership Down

21. What movie do you wish you had never seen?
The English Patient

22. What is the weirdest movie you enjoyed?
Define "weird"

23. What is the scariest movie you’ve seen?
Alien

24. What is the funniest film you have ever seen?
Robin Hood - Men in Tights

WHAT A RACE! WHAT A RESULT!

Second at Monaco last year, top of the podium this year!

Proud of you, bud!

I'm fed up with discussing this. (yeah, like I made a whole load of comments about it, eh?)

I'm going Ferreting

Well, I suppose it was the usual inevitable in-voting that got a half decent song through.
Russia's entry wasn't necessarily the best of the lot, but at least they entered a proper song (unlike the likes of Spain or Ireland - thank feck that one didn't get through to the finals.)

Sit down, shut up, it's started.

Just had a text message from mum.

"Very windy but temp is 77f. Having fun in the sun!"

(do I really need to know she's very windy? *ahem*)

Bloody holidaymakers!

Yes, the rather disappointing sequel to my previous post.
Well, I say disappointing, but I mean that in the sense that I don't get the chance to be such a drama queen this afternoon. *hmmf!*

Got into the office, and was immediately reminded of something I should have done yesterday, but because I was stressing myself out over something else it slipped by the wayside. Got that done in a matter of a couple of minutes before checking my phone messages.
*Gulp!* One new message.

I bet that's from the bloke who's causing the problem.

*presses "PLAY"* - "Message 1: Friday 8:15 am: *click* *brrrrrrr*: End of messages."

Now I HOPE that was the bloke who's been giving me grief.

8:15am? I don't start until half past! And he knows that.

Looks like I can relax for a while and get on with something more productive, like printing out another set of business cards for someone. Anyone.