Every now and then, Neddie Seagoon is referred to (usually by Grytpype-Thynne) as a Charlie. It's a word that teems with hidden meaning... well, not so hidden really, except that Seagoon doesn't figure out what it means. For the benefit of readers without a higher education in BBC Radio Comedy, a Charlie is a chump, a patsy, someone who can have tasks foisted upon him. (It should be noted that the term is not gender-specific; there are female Charlies too.)
In this world, we have many types of government represented. At the political level, someone can be given power through a mandate from the masses, or heredity, or even a farcical aquatic ceremony (though that one is getting rather rare these days). Heads of corporations are appointed by boards of directors or shareholders' meetings. And heads of non-profit organizations are elected at Annual General Meetings of their members.
Or are they? What happens when there's one candidate for President, one for Vice Pres, one for Secretary, and only as many (or not as many) as vacancies for other members? That's when you have a Charlieocracy. Instead of people being elected to positions, the positions are filled by whichever Charlies are willing to do the work. This is (usually) a compliment to the aforementioned Charlies, in that it means they're willing to do the work, but sometimes it can result in the wrong person in a position simply because nobody else stepped forward.
More and more non-profits are turning Charlieocratic. The good thing about that is that if you don't like the way something's being run, all you have to do is offer yourself - most Charlieocrats would be quite happy to take a break from the work to let someone else in for a bit! Plus, it's one of the best ways to become respected, and definitely the best way to get the inside information on what happens - do the work.
Find a community organization and join the worldwide Charlie Army today!
Friday, 18 November 2011
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Mischans, and an idea for GMail
From Wiktionary: mischan (pl mischans): a message posted accidentally to the wrong IRC channel.
When people have multiple communication channels available, it's inevitable that some message will be sent to the wrong one. Sometimes that's relatively benign (a public message that accidentally gets sent privately and needs to be resent), other times it's quite serious (a private message gets a wider audience, thus revealing secrets or making embarrassing statements). On MUDs, mischans are a part of life; Threshold RPG has an extensive thread on its forums dedicated to the funniest such events. In email, it's not nearly as common, but it is known.
I used to mischan quite frequently on Threshold - a consequence of having access to a large number of channels, and also having a tendency to snap off very quick replies. These days, I have just as many channels and snap off just as quick replies, but almost never mischan; but the solution applied does not conveniently translate to the alternate medium of email. Yet emails are just as easy to misdirect, and considerably more serious (everyone knows about the dreaded Reply All). I use GMail for all my mailing lists, for the threaded conversation view; it's excellent, but doesn't have any protection against mischans.
The solution is to make use of color. Train your brain to associate certain colors with certain topics or channels, and then any time there's a mismatch, the brain will instantly recognize it - before it's too late. Threshold RPG already has a feature for applying color to channels, but it applies only to what the server sends you; there's no way, normally, to change the color of your typed text. (Shameless plug ahead...) My MUD client, RosMud++, has a means of configuring the input color. From the Options|Color dialog, simply enter channel names and select the corresponding colors - and watch as your brain becomes accustomed to seeing text in the color it's going to end up. Unfortunately, it's not so easy with email.
I'll restrict the email issue to one common case: Mailing lists, managed by the popular Mailman software. Mailman powers myriad lists, including ones dedicated to the Python programming language, the operas of Gilbert and Sullivan, V8 (the Google JavaScript interpreter), MondoArchive, everything on lists.sourceforge.net ... a lotta little lists. It's a well-behaved mailing list manager; the emails it sends out have headers identifying the list, there's proper reply-to and from addresses, it's all very easy. Point to note: In a normal Mailman configuration, the default reply address is the single sender, NOT the list; and etiquette on most lists is to reply privately unless it's of definite interest to the list. It's therefore normal to hit Reply, type up your response, and then change the To address to be the list's (hitting Reply All will send a copy to the list and another to the sender, not usually the intended behaviour).
Two solutions recommend themselves. The first is to do the same as for the MUD; assign a color to each list, and get used to typing 'python' only for this color, and 'savoynet' only for that one. This requires quite a bit of configuration but could give excellent dividends. The other is to have a pseudo-address 'list' that can be used whenever you reply to an email, and which will send to the list address cited in the email header.
This isn't a different form of Reply button (Reply, Reply-All, Reply-List), although it could perhaps be implemented thus; it should be possible to send something to some address "and the list", where the latter is automatically filled in from the header. As a pseudo-address, 'list' could be permanently aliased to 'whatever the RFC 4021 header List-Post specifies', allowing the fingers to become accustomed to replying "to sender" or "to list" very easily. Fighting human nature is doomed to failure; working with the way the brain and fingers already want to work promises far more success.
When people have multiple communication channels available, it's inevitable that some message will be sent to the wrong one. Sometimes that's relatively benign (a public message that accidentally gets sent privately and needs to be resent), other times it's quite serious (a private message gets a wider audience, thus revealing secrets or making embarrassing statements). On MUDs, mischans are a part of life; Threshold RPG has an extensive thread on its forums dedicated to the funniest such events. In email, it's not nearly as common, but it is known.
I used to mischan quite frequently on Threshold - a consequence of having access to a large number of channels, and also having a tendency to snap off very quick replies. These days, I have just as many channels and snap off just as quick replies, but almost never mischan; but the solution applied does not conveniently translate to the alternate medium of email. Yet emails are just as easy to misdirect, and considerably more serious (everyone knows about the dreaded Reply All). I use GMail for all my mailing lists, for the threaded conversation view; it's excellent, but doesn't have any protection against mischans.
The solution is to make use of color. Train your brain to associate certain colors with certain topics or channels, and then any time there's a mismatch, the brain will instantly recognize it - before it's too late. Threshold RPG already has a feature for applying color to channels, but it applies only to what the server sends you; there's no way, normally, to change the color of your typed text. (Shameless plug ahead...) My MUD client, RosMud++, has a means of configuring the input color. From the Options|Color dialog, simply enter channel names and select the corresponding colors - and watch as your brain becomes accustomed to seeing text in the color it's going to end up. Unfortunately, it's not so easy with email.
I'll restrict the email issue to one common case: Mailing lists, managed by the popular Mailman software. Mailman powers myriad lists, including ones dedicated to the Python programming language, the operas of Gilbert and Sullivan, V8 (the Google JavaScript interpreter), MondoArchive, everything on lists.sourceforge.net ... a lotta little lists. It's a well-behaved mailing list manager; the emails it sends out have headers identifying the list, there's proper reply-to and from addresses, it's all very easy. Point to note: In a normal Mailman configuration, the default reply address is the single sender, NOT the list; and etiquette on most lists is to reply privately unless it's of definite interest to the list. It's therefore normal to hit Reply, type up your response, and then change the To address to be the list's (hitting Reply All will send a copy to the list and another to the sender, not usually the intended behaviour).
Two solutions recommend themselves. The first is to do the same as for the MUD; assign a color to each list, and get used to typing 'python' only for this color, and 'savoynet' only for that one. This requires quite a bit of configuration but could give excellent dividends. The other is to have a pseudo-address 'list' that can be used whenever you reply to an email, and which will send to the list address cited in the email header.
This isn't a different form of Reply button (Reply, Reply-All, Reply-List), although it could perhaps be implemented thus; it should be possible to send something to some address "and the list", where the latter is automatically filled in from the header. As a pseudo-address, 'list' could be permanently aliased to 'whatever the RFC 4021 header List-Post specifies', allowing the fingers to become accustomed to replying "to sender" or "to list" very easily. Fighting human nature is doomed to failure; working with the way the brain and fingers already want to work promises far more success.
Friday, 2 September 2011
We don't NEED all that design space
Or, How Magic: The Gathering helps me at work
I fight for the users. -- Tron
At work, I'm a computer programmer; my job involves software and interface design. At home, I play M:TG, and enjoy reading Mark Rosewater's articles on game design. Every now and then, the two cross over and influence each other; one such example came up this week, so it's a good excuse to write something up (or write something down - isn't English a weird language) on the subject.
First, the Magic part. This is an article from late last year, discussing one of the mechanics from the then-new Scars of Mirrodin expansion set; and in discussing Metalcraft, the article explains many things about the nature of "threshold mechanics". But that's not the point of what I'm saying here. For that, read down as far as Lesson #2: There's A Sweet Spot.
If the ability had been written as "Metalcraft 3", then additional design space would have been opened up for cards with "Metalcraft 4" or "Metalcraft 2" or "Metalcraft 17" if R&D so desired. More flexibility is a good thing, right? Mark puts it better than I could: "We don't add a number, because there's no reason to open up future design space that we won't use."
In any design, be it a collectible card game, a web site, an automatic toaster, or a novel, this issue will always come up. We could number the pages of a book as "1+1", "2+1", "3+1", "4+1", etc, thus allowing ourselves to write books in the future where the page numbers increment by some other number. But this would be a bad decision, because we'll never want to do that, and it adds a completely unnecessary cost - complexity and mindspace. Every element that the user must grok takes up space in his/her mind.
With user-interface design, I have adopted the assumptions that the user:
Are these questions you need to answer before you see your document? No. They're just clutter; and even if they're pushed off to a "Document Options" screen, #3 and #4 should not even be asked. When you design a communication protocol, don't make every single element capable of having multiple values, just because someone might maybe want to put a second source port into his TCP packet. When you design a device for humans to use, don't go to great lengths to ensure that it can be used by someone who stands five meters high.
Everyone wants to make powerful software. Hey look, not only can you do this, but you can do this and this and this too! In every design discussion, somebody needs to fight for the users. Yes, that means dumbing it down. It's the right thing to do.
I fight for the users. -- Tron
At work, I'm a computer programmer; my job involves software and interface design. At home, I play M:TG, and enjoy reading Mark Rosewater's articles on game design. Every now and then, the two cross over and influence each other; one such example came up this week, so it's a good excuse to write something up (or write something down - isn't English a weird language) on the subject.
First, the Magic part. This is an article from late last year, discussing one of the mechanics from the then-new Scars of Mirrodin expansion set; and in discussing Metalcraft, the article explains many things about the nature of "threshold mechanics". But that's not the point of what I'm saying here. For that, read down as far as Lesson #2: There's A Sweet Spot.
If the ability had been written as "Metalcraft 3", then additional design space would have been opened up for cards with "Metalcraft 4" or "Metalcraft 2" or "Metalcraft 17" if R&D so desired. More flexibility is a good thing, right? Mark puts it better than I could: "We don't add a number, because there's no reason to open up future design space that we won't use."
In any design, be it a collectible card game, a web site, an automatic toaster, or a novel, this issue will always come up. We could number the pages of a book as "1+1", "2+1", "3+1", "4+1", etc, thus allowing ourselves to write books in the future where the page numbers increment by some other number. But this would be a bad decision, because we'll never want to do that, and it adds a completely unnecessary cost - complexity and mindspace. Every element that the user must grok takes up space in his/her mind.
With user-interface design, I have adopted the assumptions that the user:
- Starts out knowing nothing about our system
- Does not read the documentation
- Won't click the crucial button that would have explained everything
- Is in a hurry, and
- Has a very specific goal.
- Make our system similar to everyone else's. People can handle "log in by entering username and password", and "sign up with an email address, then click the link in the email we send you".
- Ensure that the interface is itself intuitive, at least for straight-forward actions.
- Make normal actions easy (and unusual actions possible). Don't force the user to click twenty different links to find the one that does what most people will want first off anyway.
- Keep the screen uncluttered.
- What color do you want your paper to be?
- What font would you like the acknowledgements page to use?
- By what number should the page numbers increase?
- Should the text color alternate on left/right pages?
Are these questions you need to answer before you see your document? No. They're just clutter; and even if they're pushed off to a "Document Options" screen, #3 and #4 should not even be asked. When you design a communication protocol, don't make every single element capable of having multiple values, just because someone might maybe want to put a second source port into his TCP packet. When you design a device for humans to use, don't go to great lengths to ensure that it can be used by someone who stands five meters high.
Everyone wants to make powerful software. Hey look, not only can you do this, but you can do this and this and this too! In every design discussion, somebody needs to fight for the users. Yes, that means dumbing it down. It's the right thing to do.
Thursday, 25 August 2011
Travelog part 4
10:41pm. Flight was due to depart 21:00, but at least we're sitting in the plane now. Looks like we'll be departing two down... two hours, that is. Fortunately it's not hard to catch up some time across a seven hour journey; we'll see what time we land in Dubai. Still have no idea what the cause of the delay is, but frankly, I'd rather have a delayed departure than some of the, uhh, oddities that we saw in US domestic flights.
10:51pm. Michael and I attempt to sync our ices to watch Dawn Treader together. We mused earlier today as to whether or not it would be more fun if these systems had a "show me what seat B9 is seeing" feature; it'd spoil the fun of syncing, but it would be easier to watch movies together.
10:53pm. Captain's announcement hints that the delay was due to a safety issue, but doesn't say what. Another announcement a bit later has some electronic screech in the background, so one of the cabin crew goes forward to give the captain some feedback feedback.
10:59pm. Pushback.
11:20pm. The optional, but very much enjoyable, part of flying. The mandatory part is scheduled for six hours from now, which implies that we'll be catching up an hour during the journey.
01:54am. The modern Voyage of the Dawn Treader movie is pretty good, as long as you like modern movies and have never read the book. Otherwise, not so much.
05:10am. This flight is supposed to have mobile phone support, but I've been unable to get to it with my 3G stick from England, my pocket wifi from home, nor Michael's phone. None of them get signal. It's very disappointing, Dame Hannah. Oh well. We're now descending, so I'll try the whole thing again on the next leg - if the option's there. Oh, and I forgot to get out the green cable to try the ethernet port, although it didn't do me much good on the outward trip.
05:38am. Landed - local time 08:38am. We were due to land at 07:05 local time, which means we've caught up a good half hour - but we're still quite late. Not a problem to us personally, but two passengers are moved to the very front of Economy to facilitate a hasty transfer, and the captain apologizes to us all. I'm still curious as to what delayed us two hours. Pulling in to the terminal is delayed somewhat too - possibly we've lost our path.
06:52am. Whoops, forgot to post while I had wifi. We're now boarding for the non-stop leg Dubai to home. Time to reset clocks to Melbourne time; it's now 3:52pm. (There goes most of Wednesday. No wonder we're landing on Thurs after taking off on Tues.)
04:11pm. Had some trouble fitting our stuff in the overhead lockers, but two rows ahead is a family that seems to have crammed four people into three seats or something, so the cabin crew have done some rejigging and are moving them southward. We may now have a bit more room upstairs.
04:33pm. Pushback. You'd think that after a century of commercial flight we'd have sorted this out, but it still takes a long time to get planes into and out of the air.
04:47pm. Takeoff. The downward camera gives us a beautiful view of our own shadow in the moments after we leave the ground - first the nose, then progressively the whole aircraft.
06:57pm. The ethernet port is just as useless as on the outward journey. I wonder - maybe it's a NAT router that connects to a 10.* or 192.168.* network with no advertised DNS? Be hard to figure anything out without docs. I'd say it's an unimplemented feature, still.
11:40pm. A couple of suggestions for Emirates' ice system, which I'll be emailing them once I get an internet connection (which will probably be on landing in MEL). First, please change the font to one that properly differentiates 3 and 5 - the two are quite similar. And second, consider implementing the "show me what my friend is seeing" feature :)
02:24am. Crossing the coast at Geraldton, with ETA in under three hours. This is what happens when you don't have to accel out of Perth - cuts a whole hour off the flight time.
04:45am. Captain's just announced that we'll be descending soon. According to the map, we've only just passed Adelaide. Australia's a big place, but we're moving at quite a clip... and we're still enjoying 200km/h tail winds. In spite of departing Dubai somewhat late, we're going to be landing in good time - about ten minutes early, even.
05:48am. HOME!! Just waiting for David to find his bag.
10:51pm. Michael and I attempt to sync our ices to watch Dawn Treader together. We mused earlier today as to whether or not it would be more fun if these systems had a "show me what seat B9 is seeing" feature; it'd spoil the fun of syncing, but it would be easier to watch movies together.
10:53pm. Captain's announcement hints that the delay was due to a safety issue, but doesn't say what. Another announcement a bit later has some electronic screech in the background, so one of the cabin crew goes forward to give the captain some feedback feedback.
10:59pm. Pushback.
11:20pm. The optional, but very much enjoyable, part of flying. The mandatory part is scheduled for six hours from now, which implies that we'll be catching up an hour during the journey.
01:54am. The modern Voyage of the Dawn Treader movie is pretty good, as long as you like modern movies and have never read the book. Otherwise, not so much.
05:10am. This flight is supposed to have mobile phone support, but I've been unable to get to it with my 3G stick from England, my pocket wifi from home, nor Michael's phone. None of them get signal. It's very disappointing, Dame Hannah. Oh well. We're now descending, so I'll try the whole thing again on the next leg - if the option's there. Oh, and I forgot to get out the green cable to try the ethernet port, although it didn't do me much good on the outward trip.
05:38am. Landed - local time 08:38am. We were due to land at 07:05 local time, which means we've caught up a good half hour - but we're still quite late. Not a problem to us personally, but two passengers are moved to the very front of Economy to facilitate a hasty transfer, and the captain apologizes to us all. I'm still curious as to what delayed us two hours. Pulling in to the terminal is delayed somewhat too - possibly we've lost our path.
06:52am. Whoops, forgot to post while I had wifi. We're now boarding for the non-stop leg Dubai to home. Time to reset clocks to Melbourne time; it's now 3:52pm. (There goes most of Wednesday. No wonder we're landing on Thurs after taking off on Tues.)
04:11pm. Had some trouble fitting our stuff in the overhead lockers, but two rows ahead is a family that seems to have crammed four people into three seats or something, so the cabin crew have done some rejigging and are moving them southward. We may now have a bit more room upstairs.
04:33pm. Pushback. You'd think that after a century of commercial flight we'd have sorted this out, but it still takes a long time to get planes into and out of the air.
04:47pm. Takeoff. The downward camera gives us a beautiful view of our own shadow in the moments after we leave the ground - first the nose, then progressively the whole aircraft.
06:57pm. The ethernet port is just as useless as on the outward journey. I wonder - maybe it's a NAT router that connects to a 10.* or 192.168.* network with no advertised DNS? Be hard to figure anything out without docs. I'd say it's an unimplemented feature, still.
11:40pm. A couple of suggestions for Emirates' ice system, which I'll be emailing them once I get an internet connection (which will probably be on landing in MEL). First, please change the font to one that properly differentiates 3 and 5 - the two are quite similar. And second, consider implementing the "show me what my friend is seeing" feature :)
02:24am. Crossing the coast at Geraldton, with ETA in under three hours. This is what happens when you don't have to accel out of Perth - cuts a whole hour off the flight time.
04:45am. Captain's just announced that we'll be descending soon. According to the map, we've only just passed Adelaide. Australia's a big place, but we're moving at quite a clip... and we're still enjoying 200km/h tail winds. In spite of departing Dubai somewhat late, we're going to be landing in good time - about ten minutes early, even.
05:48am. HOME!! Just waiting for David to find his bag.
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
Delays, delays...
Hello folks of world! This is Ned Seagoon folks, blogging to you live from Manchester!
Our flight was due to depart at 21:00. It's now 22:00 and we haven't even started boarding. The final call for passengers went out a while ago; we've all had our boarding passes scanned, and are in a checked-in state and merely awaiting the readiness of the plane. Emirates staff have come round a few times with bottled water, juices, nibbles, and such, but we still don't know what time we'll be boarding, much less taking off. Fortunately we have a three-hour connection in Dubai; I very much doubt we're going to have trouble with that.
There's no GPO handy to any seat, but Michael's phone is still happily connected on 3G, and is providing wifi to all our devices. There's just been an announcement saying that there's nothing to announce, but stating that connections will be sorted out once we take off - or, putting it another way: Henry can't go, it's a guaranteed connection!
Our flight was due to depart at 21:00. It's now 22:00 and we haven't even started boarding. The final call for passengers went out a while ago; we've all had our boarding passes scanned, and are in a checked-in state and merely awaiting the readiness of the plane. Emirates staff have come round a few times with bottled water, juices, nibbles, and such, but we still don't know what time we'll be boarding, much less taking off. Fortunately we have a three-hour connection in Dubai; I very much doubt we're going to have trouble with that.
There's no GPO handy to any seat, but Michael's phone is still happily connected on 3G, and is providing wifi to all our devices. There's just been an announcement saying that there's nothing to announce, but stating that connections will be sorted out once we take off - or, putting it another way: Henry can't go, it's a guaranteed connection!
Returning home from Buxton
After some final mess to deal with regarding the crate of G&S Society things being shipped home (and with many thanks to Neil, Oliver, and Amy(?) for a chance encounter in the Octagon), we're finally ready to leave. We've said our goodbyes, there's nothing left on the to-do list, and all we have to do is make our way to Manchester Airport. Cinderella is in half an hour, which is good as our bus appears to be running late (it was due here five minutes ago and has only just arrived);
it's going to be a long trip. Fortunately we're well rested, having not just finished our show!
With a long trip ahead of us and no wifi, this is as good a time as any for a run-down of Buxton vs Melbourne. What have I most enjoyed here, and what am I most looking forward to back home? In Gustha Ebbastodder order.
Buxton:
* Meeting random people on the street and having something in common with them. We can trade G&S quotes with all sorts of people here.
* A G&S every night. Duh. :) And the whole Festival Fringe, where we and several hundred other people enjoy in-jokes and metahumour based on G&S. Related to the above.
* Unmetered fast downloads. I've been torrenting heavily while we've been here.
* Freedom to do things on a whim, without needing to schedule it around everything. I've been megging a lot of nights.
* Being of value to the Festival organizers.
* The small-town atmosphere. Quite a few people came to recognize us, and I don't think that's just because we're Aussies.
* Walking home with people like Jackie Mitchell after the Festival Club.
* Thorntons Chocolates
* Rambling conversations with awesome people like Robyn Pidcock, the BOH theatre techs (note, there is no F in there), and the Smiths
* Belle's Heaven
* No mosquitoes or cicadas!
Melbourne:
* Thea! I can't wait to see my darling sister again. And I know she'll be as delighted to see me.
* Casey. There's no convenient piano where we're staying - or anywhere else, pretty much. I made use of the Octagon's while waiting for the truck, but that's about it. I do like being able to just sit down and play something. Same with the church organ, too.
* Reliable internet connetions. Actually, it's probably no more reliable than here, but we've already solved all the issues at home, so it "just works". Also, I have control of the routers, so again, things "just work".
* Being of value to the nuclear family.
* The benefits of suburbia - convenient public transport, for instance.
* Pedestrian crossings that don't sound like alarms.
* Sweet As's chocolates
* Church services that are based primarily on the Bible, not on social gospel (three Angelicos discussing stuff isn't really church, although it is of interest)
* The whole family there to share in joys and pleasures
* No rain. Yeah, I know we do need rain (aye, sorely), but it does get inconvenient when you're out in it!
* My favorite skillet - with a lid. Frying sausages without a lid is so inefficient.
* Working fully in metric instead of the weird hybrid system found here
Every day, I learn something new, and do something productive. That's my rule. So far, I do not recall any day when I've failed to fulfil it. I'm not, by nature, one to express extremes of emotion; I don't tend to panic, fret, erupt in laughter, nor explode in anger; but through this whole trip, I cannot point to any time when I was dissatisfied or bored. Perhaps that says more about me than about Buxton, but certainly there has been much of delight and interest in these four weeks; I'm
glad to have come, and am looking forward to our next visit - whenever that may be - with hope and joy, but am also not sorry to be heading homewards.
it's going to be a long trip. Fortunately we're well rested, having not just finished our show!
With a long trip ahead of us and no wifi, this is as good a time as any for a run-down of Buxton vs Melbourne. What have I most enjoyed here, and what am I most looking forward to back home? In Gustha Ebbastodder order.
Buxton:
* Meeting random people on the street and having something in common with them. We can trade G&S quotes with all sorts of people here.
* A G&S every night. Duh. :) And the whole Festival Fringe, where we and several hundred other people enjoy in-jokes and metahumour based on G&S. Related to the above.
* Unmetered fast downloads. I've been torrenting heavily while we've been here.
* Freedom to do things on a whim, without needing to schedule it around everything. I've been megging a lot of nights.
* Being of value to the Festival organizers.
* The small-town atmosphere. Quite a few people came to recognize us, and I don't think that's just because we're Aussies.
* Walking home with people like Jackie Mitchell after the Festival Club.
* Thorntons Chocolates
* Rambling conversations with awesome people like Robyn Pidcock, the BOH theatre techs (note, there is no F in there), and the Smiths
* Belle's Heaven
* No mosquitoes or cicadas!
Melbourne:
* Thea! I can't wait to see my darling sister again. And I know she'll be as delighted to see me.
* Casey. There's no convenient piano where we're staying - or anywhere else, pretty much. I made use of the Octagon's while waiting for the truck, but that's about it. I do like being able to just sit down and play something. Same with the church organ, too.
* Reliable internet connetions. Actually, it's probably no more reliable than here, but we've already solved all the issues at home, so it "just works". Also, I have control of the routers, so again, things "just work".
* Being of value to the nuclear family.
* The benefits of suburbia - convenient public transport, for instance.
* Pedestrian crossings that don't sound like alarms.
* Sweet As's chocolates
* Church services that are based primarily on the Bible, not on social gospel (three Angelicos discussing stuff isn't really church, although it is of interest)
* The whole family there to share in joys and pleasures
* No rain. Yeah, I know we do need rain (aye, sorely), but it does get inconvenient when you're out in it!
* My favorite skillet - with a lid. Frying sausages without a lid is so inefficient.
* Working fully in metric instead of the weird hybrid system found here
Every day, I learn something new, and do something productive. That's my rule. So far, I do not recall any day when I've failed to fulfil it. I'm not, by nature, one to express extremes of emotion; I don't tend to panic, fret, erupt in laughter, nor explode in anger; but through this whole trip, I cannot point to any time when I was dissatisfied or bored. Perhaps that says more about me than about Buxton, but certainly there has been much of delight and interest in these four weeks; I'm
glad to have come, and am looking forward to our next visit - whenever that may be - with hope and joy, but am also not sorry to be heading homewards.
Sunday, 21 August 2011
Say goodbye - for the Festival is over
Or: But now that it's all over, you may as well know the truth!
Or: It's over now, the music of the night!
Or: This seems as good a time as not to look around and write.
(Okay, better start writing content before I fill it up with subtitles.)
It's impossible to do justice to the G&S Festival in blog posts. There is something here that just can't be captured in words. Why, for instance, do we:
* Clock up hundreds of kilometers walking up and down and in and out, here and there and roundabout, looking for things that back home we know we can easily find?
* Volunteer to help carry scenery and costumes for the pro shows, shows that we have no connection with other than seeing them from the gallery?
* Rehearse our own show at very long hours, to the exclusion of other activities that we would have greatly enjoyed doing?
* Bump in and dress rehearse a show all in one day, with no time to fix up mistakes?
* Perform before a thousand people, knowing full well that one of them is going to come up at the end and tell us exactly where we did a bad job?
* Immediately after bumping in and performing, go to the Festival Club and perform even more?
* Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
Why do we? Because it's the Festival! There's no adequate way to explain this, it's just something that has to be experienced. But we do have some shareable happy memories, and looking around me here in my room at High Peak Halls, I can see quite a few things that are worth mentioning.
Claiming the attention right off is Steph's trophy for Best Female Voice. Since she already left, Ron Pidcock (as President) accepted it on her behalf, and we're couriering it home in our luggage. The base of the trophy has plates engraved with the names and shows of previous winners, including the mention that G&S Opera Victoria won this same award last time we came here (hi Lynlee!). I wonder what will be done in a few years' time, when the plate fills up.
The cup is sitting on top of two copies of the new Beauty Stone score. I've hardly had a chance to read through it properly, but I also haven't had a chance to tinkle it out on a piano so it's probably going to wait till we're home and with Casey again. (Why two copies? Well, we have a flautist at home too, and I think she and I might end up dueting... anyway, I wanted to be safe.)
Next to them is a tall pile of DVDs. Apart from a few that I'm couriering home for people, they're all ours. We only get DVDs of the really outstandingly awesome shows, so if you think that my reviews are aimed at mediocrity, let this adjust your opinion of my opinion of the shows.
Also sitting here is the full programme of the Opera House productions. We bought it at the very beginning of the Festival, and it has been through life my guide and monitor, allowing me to get everyone's names correct in my reviews (well, assuming the programme is itself correct - but nobody's yet complained). I don't go autograph-hunting, but i was talking with Simon Butteriss toward the end of the three weeks and he was signing a few people's programmes, so I asked him to sign mine too. :) This book was also instrumental in getting me to go to Scrivener's for the first time; I mightn't have made the time for that first visit if I hadn't seen their ad stating that they had a shelf dedicated to G&S. I'm so glad I went.
Under the programme are two framed certificates. The trophy cup is lent for one year and must be returned for next year's festival, but Steph gets a certificate to keep. Also, there's another one - to Michael and Chris Angelico, "in recognition of their contribution to the 2011 International Gilbert & Sullivan Festival". THAT is a trophy.
Speaking of trophies, this trip has been great for my IP trophy collection. But most people don't care about that.
Over in the corner, a collection of empty Thorntons boxes gives some idea of how much chocolate has been consumed here lately. It counts only the boxes that were emptied right here in this room, so add about as much again for the ones that went to rehearsal or performance and didn't come back. Yes, the chocolate definitely helps.
Sitting in a rough pile are my handwritten notes that become the show reviews. Michael's right that I try ever to be courteous to the mediocre, but I do try to say something about the superb in each production. Unfortunately it's not always easy to express myself adequately, without leaving myself open to the linguistic analysis that the Halls use. But these notes carry some extra, and rather subtle, information: if the comment is written tidily, there wasn't much happening on the stage; if it scrawls down the page in a horrid mess, then the stage had riveted my attention.
All this still does a poor job of capturing the "feel" of the festival, but meh, I just felt like writing something. So sue me. :)
Or: It's over now, the music of the night!
Or: This seems as good a time as not to look around and write.
(Okay, better start writing content before I fill it up with subtitles.)
It's impossible to do justice to the G&S Festival in blog posts. There is something here that just can't be captured in words. Why, for instance, do we:
* Clock up hundreds of kilometers walking up and down and in and out, here and there and roundabout, looking for things that back home we know we can easily find?
* Volunteer to help carry scenery and costumes for the pro shows, shows that we have no connection with other than seeing them from the gallery?
* Rehearse our own show at very long hours, to the exclusion of other activities that we would have greatly enjoyed doing?
* Bump in and dress rehearse a show all in one day, with no time to fix up mistakes?
* Perform before a thousand people, knowing full well that one of them is going to come up at the end and tell us exactly where we did a bad job?
* Immediately after bumping in and performing, go to the Festival Club and perform even more?
* Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
Why do we? Because it's the Festival! There's no adequate way to explain this, it's just something that has to be experienced. But we do have some shareable happy memories, and looking around me here in my room at High Peak Halls, I can see quite a few things that are worth mentioning.
Claiming the attention right off is Steph's trophy for Best Female Voice. Since she already left, Ron Pidcock (as President) accepted it on her behalf, and we're couriering it home in our luggage. The base of the trophy has plates engraved with the names and shows of previous winners, including the mention that G&S Opera Victoria won this same award last time we came here (hi Lynlee!). I wonder what will be done in a few years' time, when the plate fills up.
The cup is sitting on top of two copies of the new Beauty Stone score. I've hardly had a chance to read through it properly, but I also haven't had a chance to tinkle it out on a piano so it's probably going to wait till we're home and with Casey again. (Why two copies? Well, we have a flautist at home too, and I think she and I might end up dueting... anyway, I wanted to be safe.)
Next to them is a tall pile of DVDs. Apart from a few that I'm couriering home for people, they're all ours. We only get DVDs of the really outstandingly awesome shows, so if you think that my reviews are aimed at mediocrity, let this adjust your opinion of my opinion of the shows.
Also sitting here is the full programme of the Opera House productions. We bought it at the very beginning of the Festival, and it has been through life my guide and monitor, allowing me to get everyone's names correct in my reviews (well, assuming the programme is itself correct - but nobody's yet complained). I don't go autograph-hunting, but i was talking with Simon Butteriss toward the end of the three weeks and he was signing a few people's programmes, so I asked him to sign mine too. :) This book was also instrumental in getting me to go to Scrivener's for the first time; I mightn't have made the time for that first visit if I hadn't seen their ad stating that they had a shelf dedicated to G&S. I'm so glad I went.
Under the programme are two framed certificates. The trophy cup is lent for one year and must be returned for next year's festival, but Steph gets a certificate to keep. Also, there's another one - to Michael and Chris Angelico, "in recognition of their contribution to the 2011 International Gilbert & Sullivan Festival". THAT is a trophy.
Speaking of trophies, this trip has been great for my IP trophy collection. But most people don't care about that.
Over in the corner, a collection of empty Thorntons boxes gives some idea of how much chocolate has been consumed here lately. It counts only the boxes that were emptied right here in this room, so add about as much again for the ones that went to rehearsal or performance and didn't come back. Yes, the chocolate definitely helps.
Sitting in a rough pile are my handwritten notes that become the show reviews. Michael's right that I try ever to be courteous to the mediocre, but I do try to say something about the superb in each production. Unfortunately it's not always easy to express myself adequately, without leaving myself open to the linguistic analysis that the Halls use. But these notes carry some extra, and rather subtle, information: if the comment is written tidily, there wasn't much happening on the stage; if it scrawls down the page in a horrid mess, then the stage had riveted my attention.
All this still does a poor job of capturing the "feel" of the festival, but meh, I just felt like writing something. So sue me. :)
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