Contains spoilers...

OK. So we all know the feeling when something we've really been looking forward to turns out to be less good than expected, or just a bit crap. It's easy to be disappointed and cross and irritated.

But it's equally easy to be irritated when something turns out to be better than you thought it was going to be. If that makes any sense...

I know this to be true because I nearly* went to see Edge of Darkness (The Film) and was mildly annoyed that it was OK. It wasn't brilliant, but I really wanted it to be awful. And it wasn't.

Now, going to see it was probably a risk all along because Edge of Darkness (The Not-Film 80s TV Series) won several BAFTAs and was genuinely dark and shocking. I remember watching it unfold over several weeks and it was a story that could only be told in that way, slowly and deliberately. It was Classic Drama - it says so on the DVD box.

So I knew the film was going to make a hash of it. There would be no comparison.

Well, actually, there would be a whole range of comparisons.

On the way there, we couldn't actually remember the last thing we'd seen Mel Gibson in. Let alone the last thing he'd been any good in. Whereas Bob Peck's performance is still grim and haunting even now. He can easily act most people off the screen, despite having been dead for eleven years.

Ray Winstone as Jedburgh? Maybe not. Presumably, as the whole thing has been imported into Boston, Jedburgh, American in the original, had to be English. But Ray Winstone can only play Ray Winstone. He played Ray Winstone in Robin of Sherwood and in everything since. And Jedburgh should really have watched Strictly Come Dancing... But he didn't.

So, not looking good so far. How would they capture that sense of foreboding which those lingering shots of the nuclear fuel trains and Eric Clapton created? Who would play Clementine? Would we get Time of the Preacher...?

At least we wouldn't have to put up with Joanne Whalley... Arguably the best thing about her appearance in the original was that she was viciously gunned down in the opening episode. (A punishment that really should have come after Willow, rather than before...) But Emma in the film was less convincing than Yorkshire Emma - less of a terrorist, less in control. And less of a guiding vision for her bereaved father.

The civil servants weren't quite right. You have to be British, with Queen's English and possibly a bowler hat, to do the tortuous bureaucracy required to cover up something politically incovenient. And possibly radioactive. You also have to be called Pendleton and Harcourt. Which the American attachés in the film may have been called, but not noticeably.

Plainly, there was so much that wasn't quite right. The cheesy, uplifting end for a start (or for an end...) I won't spoil what it was. But he dies and is happily reunited with Emma in spectral form. (OK, so I have spoiled it, but no more so than the film does...)

None of the uncertainty and ambiguity of the original, in which both Craven and Grogan face a slow, irradiated death. No particularly prescient environmental message. No Zoe Wannamaker. No black flowers...

But it was OK. No more than that. If you've not seen either, I'll lend you the DVD...



* "Nearly" because my sister nearly wasn't able to get the tickets at the cinema because she signed her debit card over the magnetic strip not the signature strip, rendering it useless in the "Collect your own tickets" machine. Or the "Can't collect your own tickets machine", as it's now called...

Trainspotting...

I'm not sure if this is classed as one of the Great Railway Journeys of the World, but me and my Dad went on the Settle -Carlisle Line on Friday. Didn't get much time in Carlisle (probably enough...), but that wasn't the point.

The line is now more widely used than it was when it was under the threat of closure in the 80s. This is mainly to do with the fact that it's been well marketed as a tourist attraction. It's a great way to see the western Yorkshire Dales...

This map shows the stations all the way from Leeds as captured by GPS along the route... (Just got geeky new phone which does that...)



The journey takes about three hours, heading up the Ribble Valley to Ribblehead where the famous viaduct is...



..and where we stopped for a look round. There's a great restored station with a very knowledgable live-in railway enthusiast station master. You can buy a postcard and other paraphernalia...

The viaduct is really huge. You only get how huge it is if you're standing underneath it, or when you see a train going over the top...



The line then goes to through Blea Moor Tunnel, into Cumbria and to Dent Station, which is at the head of Dentdale and the highest mainland station in England, and then past Ais Gill, which is the highest point on the line.

As you might expect, the views are spectacular all the way... the three peaks of Pen-y-Ghent, Ingleborough and Whernside, many more viaducts other than (but none as big as) Ribblehead, beautiful dales and villages, plunging waterfalls and raging rivers, and the forests in the Eden Valley.

And then you get to see the other side on the way home!

I might become a trainspotter yet.

Branded...

I finally went to the Minnellium Dome last night...

Yes, I know, only eight years late, but nearly everything they planned for the minnellium was late. And still doesn't work. It's a British thing.

In those eight years, I've flown over it, driven under it, sailed past it, tubed through it, but never actually been in it.

It's bloody clever actually. On a very narrow peninsula they've managed to thread the Jubilee Line under the Blackwall Tunnels - that's four tunnels under the Thames in total - and construct this very iconic building on top. (Although I suppose it's not really a building - just a big tent - and the buildings underneath it are fairly ordinary.)



And, of course, for about the last seven years of the eight, no-one in their right mind wanted to go there because it was an ill-conceived, publicly-funded white elephant full of crap. It was all cultural - Mind Zone, Body Zone, Spiritual Zone - and no-one wanted to spend their "lee-zhure" time doing all that nonsense, even if it was inside a triumph of civil engineering...

So what happened?

Well, firstly, someone decided it would be better if it were full of things people actually wanted to do - shop, eat, go to cinema, see Bryan Adams in November (OK, not the last one...)

Secondly, someone else decided it would be good if people could actually get there, so they built the aforementioned tube line...

But most important, branding happened.

Someone, probably in what Eddie Izzard calls one of those "4 o'clock in the morning, stroky-beard meetings", came up with the ludicrous suggestion of calling it after a phone company.

O₂ is one of the most successful marketing exercises of all time. The phone company used to be BT Cellnet - deeply untrendy and lagging massively behind the likes of Orange and Vodafone. No clear identity and losing money and subscribers.

But now, the strength of the brand is overwhelming. It can be identified by the subtle blue fade of the corporate colour, the little subscript ₂, the bubbles, Sean Bean being all northern and reassuring on the ads, etc.



And now, not only has it made the Dome very cool and trendy, every person who goes there (23 000 watching Kylie last night, not to mention all the people eating and drinking and watching films) gets the brand lasered right through their eyeballs into their brains at every available opportunity.

The branding is so successful that The O₂ is the only fully commercial organisation to have what is effectively a free advert on that other icon, the tube map...



Now that is bloody clever...

Meet your chickens...

As Magda said...




..."it's bad enough having to read most of the crap that's written, without 'avin to look at a photo of the bastard that wrote it..."

Well, now it's poultry with egos too...



All I can say to Tesco is that I feel it's ethical enough to buy the locally sourced, Shiny Happy Farmers Free Range eggs, without 'avin to look at a photo of the chickens that laid 'em...

Biltmore (and Booze...)

Biltmore is America's largest private residence. It's also quite old for America.

This means it gets quite busy and you follow Americans round who say things like "Oh My God!!! It's, like, so AMAZING that they could build something like this 100 years ago...!!!"

I think if you took them to, let's say, Chatsworth, or a castle, they would probably go into meltdown.

None of this is to say it's not impressive...



...because it is.

But it's not really that old.

It was built with proper plumbing, lifts, electricity, central heating etc., by the Vanderbilt family on the proceeds of their trade and commerce. (So at least it was earned and not just inherited...) Today, they don't live there, it's just a going concern as a tourist attraction. You can't take photos inside so if you want to see what it's like, you'll have to look at the website. Or go yourself.

Some of the best views are from, and in, the formal gardens and grounds...



...which are huge.

About three miles from the house, but still in the grounds, is a converted dairy which is now a winery...



If you're not driving, you can taste up to eight wines, guided by a professional wine professional. Ours didn't seem to be counting how many we tasted. The plan is that if you taste eight each, you buy eight each, thus enabling the whole enterprise to do better as a winery than it ever did selling milk. We tasted at least eight each and bought three bottles in total, so we probably weren't the best customers.

But back in Greensboro later that evening, we drank the wine and discovered that it was cheaper in Harris Teeter anyway...

Posh McDonalds and Custard...

Not Nashville in Tennessee, which is about 300 miles to the west, but Asheville, still in North Carolina, and in the Blue Ridge Mountains (which I thought were in Virginia, as in the song).

Seems my geographical knowledge of the eastern US states is about as good as the average American's knowledge of where Basingstoke is. (And who can blame them.)

Asheville has history...



This is at Biltmore village on the outskirts of Asheville. It's a preserved area and all the houses and shops are in some manner of ye olde style which I know nothing about. Here's a picture and you can tell me...



The Olde World Christmas Shoppe sells Christmassy things the whole year round. 365 days a year. (Except when we were there and it was shut.)

Even the McDonalds has to be in keeping...



Yes, we did go in, and it had a grand piano on a little stage too. Albeit one of those you put a memory card in and it plays itself. Also my first experience of an Egg and Bacon McGriddle, which is egg and bacon in two small maple syrup pancakes. And my last experience of one too.

The actual town of Asheville has some really impressive buildings...



...and some interesting public art...



...but all of this pales into insignificance besides Asheville's top feature, which is...



...Kamm's Frozen Custard Shop, which is well worth a visit. In fact, it's well worth the two round-trip flights and the three hour each-way drive. Best food experience of the holiday so far. Here's the order form if you want some... (I'm not sure they deliver, though...)

Anti-Rant (Being Nice for Lent...)

The Church of England says I don't have to give anything up for Lent this year. (Actually, as I have had no pancakes, I wouldn't have to give up anything anyway, would I?)

What I actually have to do is "something helpful" and "good deeds." I can even get text or web reminders in case I forget to be helpful and good which, let's face it, is likely.

Yesterday, I had to "go to a party". Today I have to "spend some time in silence..."



...like that's gonna happen!

But I am slowly buying into the whole "Changing the world a little bit each day" message - I even have a copy of this, and have done some of the things in it. (Well, one of the things - I turn the TV off standy when I go to bed now. However, as I have just bought a big new tv when there was actually nothing particularly wrong with the old one, my "change the world" account is still seriously in the red...)

Anyway, back to the point. I'm going to write a thank you letter to someone. It's one of the things on the CoE list and will make me feel better about myself.

Yesterday in London, I dropped my phone and the slidy front bit slid off completely. The front and back bits hung together precariously on a spring and getting them back together was like being on the Krypton Factor, and involved patience and tweezers. When I got it back together, it didn't work. The screen flashed pretty colours then went black.

The O2 website said I had to take it to an O2 Shop. The woman in the O2 Shop said they would have to send it away to Nokia. She said it could be 28 days. She said they didn't have a loan phone for me. She chewed gum while she spoke.

She helpfully suggested I could take it to the little mobile phone shop on Millbrook Road. They might do it in 48 hours.

Well, they were nothing short of brilliant.

They took the phone in at about 10am. They were polite; they knew what they were talking about; they didn't promise anything they couldn't do; they had a sense of humour. (Take note of all these, girl in O2 Shop...) I went to work. I picked it up at 4pm - all fixed under warranty.

So, I'm going to write to Next Communications in Southampton and thank them for the excellent service. And for the (albeit very small) audience here... Thanks Sam and Chris. I would have been very grumpy without my phone. And I wouldn't want the Church of England texting me about that.*

*Not that they would have been able to...

Grey Skies, More Towers...

...and no Pancakes* :-(

The weather wasn't great in London today and the Thames looked steely and very threatening. At 7.2m, it was the highest tide this year so far and at times it looked in danger of coming over the edge...



I worry about these things. Time to get up high!

It's officially Tower week. Already been up the Spinnaker Tower and there are plenty in London to keep the theme going.

Firstly, the Monument. A tower in all but name, built to commemorate the Great Fire. All you need to know about its history and purpose is here...



...Bakers, Puddings, Christopher Wren etc.

The last time I climbed the 311 steps to the top was pre-1981. I know this because my Gran climbed them too, kept going by the fact that an American on the way down told her there was a café at the top**.

But the views are good, even on a grey day...



...up and down...



Next Tower is The Tower of London.



Again, not been here for a very long time, but it seems to have smartened up its act. Lots of interactive touch-screen stuff and the Queen Elizabeth II Travelators to take you past the Crown Jewels. God forbid you might actually want to stop and look.

It was not very busy, surprisingly, but such tourist groups as there were...



...just took photos of all the predictable things.



Of course, I would never do that.

And finally on to Tower Bridge.



Iconic, obviously, but going in and up is better for the views it offers of other things...



..than the views it offers of itself...



You can go in the Engine Room now too. Which is impressive...



...until you realise that these engines don't work the bridge anymore. That's all done by the new-fangled electricity now.

Finished off the day by going to see Boeing-Boeing at the Comedy Theatre. Don't normally like farces, but this one had Michelle Gomez from Green Wing and Feel the Force in it and she was effortlessly brilliant!

*Apologies to The Street family, who didn't have me there to flambé anything this year...
** There isn't...

---

More photos on...

The Bird (Flu) Table and The Battle Rhythm...

Aithchooo....

So, as of 1pm this afternoon, we have Bird Flu. Not just any old bird flu, but the kind of bird flu that will kill us all (© Daily Mail, probably).

I've learned, thanks to the consistently brilliant BBC News website, that there are at least 15 types of bird flu. We've got strain H5 and there are 9 types of H5. We've got H5N1.

The BBC News also shows us, helpfully, how H5N1 might mutate further and really actually kill us all... Have a go, it's like some morbid computer game...



Anyway, to try and make sure it goes no further than taking down Bernard Matthews, DEFRA has an Exotic Animal Disease Generic Contingency Plan. I feel better already.

Part of the EADGCP (for short) is the Battle Rhythm... This sounds like it might be some tribal drumming technique to pass the news of feathery-death from one (technologically-limited and telephony-poor) Suffolk village to the next, but it's actually just this timetable (click to zoom)...



This makes provision for early-morning and early-evening "Birdtable" meetings. Now I have no idea what these are - someone well-attended at management training courses will tell me - but I imagine they're a kind of meeting where people can arrive, contribute and leave, and not everyone has to be there at the same time, or at all. (If I'm right, I'll take my MBA now...)

I wonder if they might consider renaming these, given that it might hold up proceedings if they have to clear 2,600 dead turkeys off the birdtable before they can start...

The Great Christmas Tree Massacre...

They don't just take the decorations down in Lyndhurst...



...they slaughter them.

A really sad sight.

Never mind, only about 328 days till we can put them back up again! :-)

So much hot air...

Spurred on by others' green credentials and guilt about how much CO₂ my flying to New Zealand (and back) dumped into the atmosphere, I had a go on the Carbon Calculator website. If you put in details of where you've been and how you got there, it will tell you how much pollution you caused. I think even by walking to the kitchen you can destroy a sizeable section of the ozone layer. I'm staying on the sofa.

The upshot is that flying half way round the world and then coming back covers 38 572km and produces 4.2 tonnes (metric with an "...nes" on the end) of carbon dioxide...



...but it's not the end of the world (either literally or metaphorically) because I can buy trees to the value of £31.08, almost a forest, and everything will be OK and I will sleep at night. (If I'd only been to New York I would've got away with a measly £8.88 worth of trees. Which is a small tree in Durham somewhere.)

And I was actually going to do it!

But it seems trees are out of stock at the moment...



You see, this is what you get when you try to be holier-than-thou. If there are no trees left to buy, then there's probably something more wrong with the world than my £31.08 will put right...