Shosholoza Meyl Train

Pardon me boy, is this the Shosholoza Meyl train?

Now we come to one of the highlights of our South African soiree – the Shosholoza Meyl train. Not quite up there with the Trans-Siberian, this is the longest train journey I’ve made. At 27 hours from end to end, and at £30 for the joy of being on the train this long, not only is it the budget alternative to flying, this has to be one of the biggest rail bargains anywhere in the world. Apparently, a sitter costs £7.50 one way, but I really don’t know how anyone could possibly do this and remain comfortable.

At 1230 sharp, our train left the far end of Cape Town station, trundling its way through the suburbs and into the country. Our first stop, Belleville, was unremarkable, and a few hours later, after travelling through some mountainous countryside, we travelled for mile after mile towards Worcester and onwards. Our beds were made up at 6, we ate at around 2030 and had a very relaxed time reading and talking crap until about 2330 when Mrs D hit the sack, and I carried on reading and admiring the starlit view – we rarely see stars in England due to light pollution.

It was a fairly large area in which to sleep – the arrangement is light that of the old slam door compartment trains which ran south of the Thames until recently. You have about three quarters of the entire width the carriage to sleep on, and have a fold down bunk above you. Fortunately, these are only really used when the trains are full, which since we were out of season, they were not. Between the seats is a fold up table, beneath which is a small sink (ours only gave out the meanest of dribbles). There are two toilets per carriage, so you essentially share one with about 8-10 others. The showers and toilets seemed to be given a thorough clean every few hours. British train companies could learn a lot from this. Food from the dining car was no more expensive than outside the train (a burger and chips was about £2.50) and was pretty basic though perfectly fine. It helped that we’d bought lots of bottled water with us and you do tend to get quite thirsty on these trains, even though ours did not feature air conditioning (the premier class train which does the same route is about seven times more expensive, so dream on).

I can’t think of anything negative about this trip, apart from being told that were running on time, when in fact we were an hour later than scheduled. Not a major concern, but we had contacted our taxi, meant to be picking us up at the station, and who had travelled from Pretoria. He became increasingly irate with us for keeping him waiting as he was on a meter and had already picked up a shared fare returning to Pretoria.

It was an interesting journey for its countryside, for the gentle tck-tck, tck-tck of the rails and because there isn’t a better way to travel apart from maybe a cruise ship if time is not a concern (we made time for this one and was definitely worth every hour “lost” to not having flown).

The company slogan is “A Pleasant Experience” and despite my reservations the strapline was spot on. It was and I’d recommend it to anyone who can make the time to do it.


Inside a sleeping compartment

Robben Island

Robben Island "welkoms" you.

On the Monday, we travelled over to Robben Island, holding place for many apartheid-era political prisoners, including of course, the main man, Nelson Mandela. We had to hang around a while after buying tickets, since there was a bit of a backlog for the ferry, but after a meal of very large burgers, the boat took us across the five or six miles of water to the island.

Our tour guide was an ex-political prisoner and really knew his onions, offering us a humorous (yes, really) tour of the island, with plenty of information and anecdotes about what it was like to live there involuntarily. We started the tour by bus, followed by a walk around the cells where prisoners were incarcerated. We then travelled to the individual cells, including cell number 7 where Nelson Mandela lived. Because of our lack of sight, the tour guide allowed us into the cell – a rare privilege apparently. My thoughts on the island (though not the prison, which was suitably grim) was how beautiful the island is, with its views across to the Cape. With its white limestone and eucalyptus trees, it was rather like a desert island. But would like to live in the harsh conditions of the prison cell and hard labour? Nope. I think had we arrived during a storm, I may have left with a different opinion. I’ve been to Kilmainham Jail in Dublin, and that place was a true representation of grimness. Apart from the physical humiliation of having to move loads of lime from one place to another…then back…then back again (there was no real work for the politicos to actually do) I think I could almost enjoy the environment here, though not the incarceration.

An evening of wandering around the Waterfront again, followed by our final eats at the Kraal restaurant bought our stay in Cape Town to and end. Tomorrow would be the mammoth trip to Pretoria on the Shosholoza Meyl train.

Tour of the Cape

The pleasant coastal town of Fish Hoek

Success at last with the rail tickets to Jo’burg! An early morning trip, surprisingly stress free bought us to the ticket office and our tickets. Hooray. This made the tour ahead that much more relaxed as, had we missed our tickets, we may have had to fly – or so we thought – incorrectly as it turns out.

We did the Cape Wine tour and southern Cape. What a beautiful country South Africa is, with landscapes which seem to change every few minutes, from wild costs to pleasant suburbs, all within a few minutes drive of each other. Our tour bus even met a baboon sitting, its red arse aloft, in the road.

We went through a country park, drove on to a rather nice seafood restaurant on the beachfront just outside Simons Town, and then on Stellensbosch and the winery. I thought the winery was a gorgeous building – there was a full scale wedding going on as we did our cheese and wine taste, and the guests had mainly come from England. Stellensbosch itself is the oldest town in SA, and looks a bit like a slightly more relaxed version of the back roads of Ealing. A great place to live as a Cape Town commuter I’m sure, providing you can afford it.

As we trundled our way from the southern cape coast on to the winery, our knowledgeable guide pointed out that we were passing the Cape Flats Township. “This”, she said “is where about 1.5 million people live”. I asked her to repeat it. I hadn’t mis-heard. About one third to one half (depending on who you believe) all Cape Town’s residents live here. And the place was, in appearance, rather like Langa. Only on a much larger scale. All in all, a worthwhile tour, simply the reason that it took outside the tourist zone in and around Long Street.

That evening, we had a wander round the Waterfront shopping centre. It was pretty much any other large and prestigious shopping centre. I must admit to quite enjoying going to foreign shopping centres which I suppose makes me a suburban fart. Some pretty decent tourist tat shops though, most of which only window shopped at. Please note NHS, asthma inhalers are only £1.40 here – and no prescription. I only wish buying straightforward meds was as easy here. I bought six of the buggers.

We dined in an Italian restaurant by the water’s edge – it was unremarkable, though it did serve gnocchi, something which seems, unfairly, to have gone out of fashion at UK Italian eateries.

This rather nice shot (not mine sadly) is of the

Waterfront shopping area.
We had another gander round the Waterfront, but at this point we were fairly tired, and at 11 returned to the Grand Daddy. A pretty successful day’s touring.

Robben Island tomorrow.

South Africa holiday: Township tour of Cape Town

An early start on Monday took us to the township of Langa (supposedly meaning “sunshine” in Xhosa). Our driver, a dweller of said township, took us on an experience I’ll not forget. Firstly, we travelled to church. This was full to capacity (with about 600 in the congregation as a conservative estimate). Some of our party were fairly moved by the service, though I had mixed feelings and was fairly untouched – it seemed like the kind of service I grew up with, although services at Holy Trinity in South Kensington were all in English. I found the sudden swap-over from English to Xhosa and back again for no apparent reason detracted from the message, which was kind of garbled and too much like hard sell for my taste. Oh well, horses for courses. The church was absolutely windswept as was the township itself, with 40 mile an hour westerlies blasting through.

Driving around the first part of the township, I was surprised at how orderly it was, with some concrete houses laid out in rows.

Next, we travelled to a shabeen, an informal pub. Informal just means that there is no licence, and therefore the government restricts its serving hours until the late afternoon.

Served here was some of the most disgusting beer I’ve tasted. Made of sorghum, this stuff is made en masse – fermentation time is a worryingly short three days - and served straight from the keg or barrel or whatever it is. The taste is weak yet sour, and quite unique, with a thick layer of foam on the top. The shabeen itself was buzzing with flies. One of the reasons these pubs are more heavily regulated is that there are no loos at all, prompting the question, where on earth do you go for leak? This lack of a satisfactory answer may account for some of the insect activity I suppose. I think this is the kind of place hardcore drinkers gravitate to. A very interesting experience indeed.

When the idea that people should be entitled to have any kind of fun outweighs the perceived need to raise taxes from alcohol sales, our pointless government, having successfully closed the last proper non corpo-pub, will force ordinary people to drink in places like this, as government approved beer will be over a tenner per pint as necking more than one of them will of course, encourage rampant terrorism and anyway, consuming more than one tenth of a unit will also be regarded by them and their media sheep as binge drinking. Bring on the sorghum.

On to the hostel: an especially grim place in the township which has got to be the most hemmed in place containing humankind beyond a prison I’ve been to. Some pretty nice people spoke to us there. I felt justifiably privileged living in my small house on the east side of London compared to these people. Hell, I am indeed.

Next was the healer (dubbed by me the witch doctor). Not sure if witchery goes on here, but the NHS its not. Practical healing involves animal parts so we’re not talking homeopathic remedies, despite the presence of lots of herbs.

Finally, a drive taking us past an unincorporated part of the township that comprised the kind of shack with neither electricity nor running water I’d thought would occupy the whole township. This was as desolate a place as can be. The next day we heard that around 400 of these shacks were burnt down that evening. It didn’t even make the national news as this kind of thing happens so often. Thank goodness no-one was killed or seriously injured. Unbelievable.

In the afternoon we sat in our hotel bar and drunk South African champagne. We then ate a rather lovely meal in an African restaurant. I don’t really buy into the brow-bearing “guilty am I” response to the townships. I was far too young to have been able to influence things during apartheid, and there is bugger all I can do about what has been left behind. But the sheer fucking irony of pouring wine down my throat, and having the cash to do so without thinking about it too much was not lost on me. Consider this: The average domestic help in Cape Town earns R80-90 per day. A bottle of mineral water in our restaurant was R15.00 (about £1.00 at the time of writing).

I have nothing but sheer admiration for those living in the townships (half of Cape Town’s population). They have remained patient far longer than any decent human being could expect.

Langa Township’s unincorporated area.

Top of the Table - and another lower one

The cable car spins round on its way up to the top of Table Mountain. The view from the top is quite stunning

After another fruitless trip to buy our tickets for the train to Johannesburg, we decided to head off to the Waterfront and take a tour bus around the city. The highlight of the day was definitely heading on the cable car to the top of Table Mountain.

What a stunning place, 1 kilometer above the city spread before us below. For anyone visiting CT, this is a must-do and I can not recommend it enough. It was relief to be away from the heat of town trolling round town on the open topper actually, and even more of a relief as the temps dropped by at least 10 degrees on top of the mountain.

A leisurely trip along the coast through some of the most expensive beach front housing on earth and one of the more exclusive resorts (so exclusive we skipped them) took us back to the Waterfront and back to our hotel for a well deserved food stop at the local Pick 'n' Pay - we were running low on soft drinks and choc and supermarkets apparently close on Sunday (this wasn't actually the case but we weren't to know).

After an hour or so reading in the hotel we headed to a restaurant called Mama Africa's, as recommended in our tourist guide, and if the amount of tourists crammed there is to go by,. Most of the other guides too.

I think I would have enjoyed this place more had we not been completely spoilt by Nona’s the night before. There was nothing wrong with at all. The cocktails, which were high quality and generous in size, were £2.00 a pop, so the relatively disappointment we experienced with the food was partly made by the liquid refreshment. But the service became ridiculously slow as the evening progressed (45 minutes between main course and dessert), the desert itself, a malva pudding, which in my case was super-bland and the music, which was deafening - and we were tabled about as far away from the band as could be. I'm not too snobby about being a tourist - I am one - but I felt this was far to "corporate tourist mill Africa" for my liking. I had a pretty nice Cape Malay curry which was both spicy and sweet and apparently, according to our friends in Pretoria I spoke to about it later, seemed quite like the real deal.

We had an early start on Sunday, so by 2230 we were back at the hotel and I read Christopher Fowler's marvelously easy to absorb autobiog, Paperboy, while Mrs DD slept like a wee child.

Andy Taylor - a sad farewell

Andy's singing persona, Jimmy Johnny, bellows down the mic at a friend's barbie. It is a contentious topic as to whether he could actually sing though. Hmm, naysayer me.

My friend Andy Taylor died last month and his funeral took place last week, on Thursday, in Eltham.

He was a big man indeed in the disabled community. His company, Access Made Easy, has a record which I doubt any other private sector employer can match - 60 percent of his employees were disabled: I am one of them, albeit on an ad hoc basis.

I met him at the age of 18, 20 years ago now, while still at university, on the premise of meeting his then-girlfriend, Laura, whom I knew from school. Although Laura and I remained friends until a few years back, knowing Andy was like having a wiser, more knowing and definitely more motivated elder brother. For the next 20 years or so, we played music together, drank beer together, talked rubbish together and even tried to save the world in the way ten beers allows you think you are able to.

We recognised instantly our similar class and family backgrounds, we have a few sisters each and both of us had a broad taste in music - I spent many an evening over his various flats in Deptford going through his vast CD collection, eating food from the Good Friends and later The Orient, and sleeping on a succession of sofas in various states of rot. His kitchen ceiling once collapsed spontaneously while he was standing under it. I'm glad his accommodation improved soon after, though his temporary sleeping arrangement never improved much.

It would be wrong to make Andy out to be some kind of latter day saint because he was a welded-to-the-earth human, nothing more. But he was, for sure, a man of action (and a rather able wordmonger too as it happens). He could definitely talk. While wearing a super strong pair of walking shoes too, prepared to travel the extra mile. Lending a hand if that should be required. No slouch, he really did put his money - hard cash too - and his effort, as well as his mouth, into just about everything he was passionate about.

I know that his partner, Amy, his parents, sisters and his numerous friends and work colleagues all feel his loss within our lives.

So I will, with the greatest of pleasure, salute Andy. A well loved and now very much missed colleague, thoughtful friend, great sounding board, shrewd businessman, man of action.

And mostly for me, fantastic mate.

It was a great journey Andy. Just far too short.

Arrival in Cape Town

The exterior of Nyoni's Kraal restaurant, which kept us fed for three nights. This place gets a highly recommended rating and if you go, ask for Deborah the waitress - she's a star and a half.


The South Africa trip started at Heathrow Terminal Five, which I must say was actually a gorgeous looking and importantly, easy to use building and nothing like the squalor I’ve experienced at the other older terminals. The flight was relatively comfortable for an over nighter and we landed in the baking sun of Cape Town at about 9 the next morning.

Our taxi landed us at the Grand Daddy hotel in Long Street. The Daddy Long Legs seems to be a chain comprising a boutique hotel, an “art hotel” and a trailer park filled with genuine 50s Airstreams.

So, after a breakfast of French toast with banana, maple syrup and bacon, and a few hours sleep in our very comfortable room, we were ready to hit the mean streets of Cape Town. Not a very intense day as we tend to spend the first day of any holiday abroad just finding our feet. Today we tried to pick up our rail tickets for the Shosholoza Meyl train, but the ticket office was closed (in rush hour, just when it might be used by people – nice to know the service ethic is as strong here as it is in the UK (sarcastic remark). We wandered around Long Street, and spent our evening at a restaurant I can highly recommend called the Nyoni’s Kraal.

http://www.capetownmagazine.com/todonight/Western-Cape/Local-is-Lekker-at-Nyonis-Kraal-Restaurant-in-Cape-Town~115

Our waitress, Deborah, was a complete mummy, explaining everything we were curious about in a most enthusiastic way. She actually made the place work for us in the big way and we returned twice more. Sure, this might be regarded as unadventurous but when you get African food this good, why spoil your stay by going somewhere else only to be disappointed.

So after our meals of Meat Towers and Pap (pap being mealy maize shaped and fried), and stew with samp (samp being a mixture of mealy maize and beans) we returned to our hotel, tired but stuffed.

A fine start to a wonderful holiday.

The last month - one holiday and a funeral

The swanky yet homely Grand Daddy hotel, Long Street, Cape Town, where my and Mrs Dukc stayed for half our South African adventure

Myself and the wifelet have returned from a rather brilliant holiday in South Africa which took place in what started out to be a rather tumultuous month. I’ll make a separate entry for that event, hopefully later this week, though my bloody diary never fails to fill up - not that I’m hugely complaining, you understand.

This is a summary of events – with more retrospective blogging to come over the next few days Unlike Mrs D, who elected to bring her netbook with her, mine remained in the place where it should while I’m on holiday. Firmly at home.

So...for the first of our two weeks we stayed at the rather splendid Grand Daddy hotel in the centre of Cape Town, a place I’d be more than happy to recommend. We then travelled to our friends in Pretoria via Jo’burg on the Shosholoza Meyl train, whose slogan is “a pleasant experience” and for once, the phrase was not hyperbole, but pretty close to how I’d have described it.

While in Pretoria, we stayed in the rather nice suburb or Constantia Heights with our friends in their rather lovely and jealous-making house. On the Saturday and Sunday we visited a lion breeding centre where we handled lion cubs, and during the following days, we spent long evenings over the bra’ai with plenty of great South African wine and loadsa bottles of Namibian Windhoek beer. Lovely. We also did more prosaic stuff purchasing specs for me (which are of at least equal quality to those I buy in the UK and a third cheaper). We also visited quite a few Pick ‘n’ Pay supermarkets for typical SA food. I think food needs an entry on its own too.

Over the next fortnight I’ll be posting more deails and some pictures too.

I predict a riot

I know its easy to say it, but I have a date in mind that the riot(s) in this country will kick off, and have been saying it now for the last two weeks at work. We've even opened a book - the prize, a case of beer. That date is 17 July. Watch and see if I'm right.

I have no evidence and no prior knowledge of anything, and I'm certainly no Mystic Meg (not that she's ever been wildly accurate, other than the the frequency of her paycheck).

No, my prediction is based on nothing but a wild stab in the dark. But I think a combination of the continuance of government ineptitude, further nest-feathering of greedy, psychopathic bankers and a really sunny, hot day...well, the combination of goodies is there.

I'll see you at Trafalgar Square or nearby on the day then.

I'm seething and can't see my fury lessening. I doubt I'm alone.

Madder than mad people who are certified as mad

Geert Willders, a guy who wishes to point out the possible correlation between the Quran and terrorism is refused entry to this country. Given the evidence, I can’t see how anyone can deny the link. This film being freely available on Youtube. I have watched it and fail to see the controversy.

1) Terrorism happened.
2) Muslims did it.
3) The particular muslims who did it claim it was a good thing and should happen again.

PDQ.

A week later, Abu Qatada, a guy who has proposed multiple fatwahs against non-believers (that’s anyone who isn’t a hard core fundamentalist brainwashed Muslim –and even the majority of gente minded Muslims are most likely included here) who has been described as “bin Laden’s right-hand man in Europe” is awarded £2.500 of my hard-worked for money by the European Court of Human Rights. I can’t even blame my country’s wretched excuse for a government for this justice abortion.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/feb/19/abu-qatada-compensation-european-court

When such madness is over, would a reader this blog please wake me up. I’m taking some heavy duty drugs which I hope will aid the hibernation process.

Zanu-Labour reach new low

Our glorious government has reached a new low. Yes, my Victor Meldrew-esque habit of exclaiming "I don't belieeeeeve it" has been stretched to lengths I didn't think possible.

Now you can't take photographs of coppers or millitary personnel in the streets of its somewhat-less-than-free city.

Even the police union has claimed this legislation which came in without any mandate or consultation, today, say its ridiculous.

Here's the story.

Zanu-Labour. Bringing the laws of downtown Harare to London. Political prisoner being beaten up? I give it two years.

Psychopoaths say sorry

I'm sure I'm not the first to have compared the highly overpaid leaches in the top end of banking as "psychopaths" but actually, their so called apology displays all the characteristics of classic psychopathy.

"We're profoundly sorry" they cried unanimously yesterday. Ah, good, those’s what the public want, so let’s appear to do the right thing, goes the mindset.

But later on, they claimed that they were either "not responsible" for causing the crisis, or only "partly" responsible. They were quite happy to blame ministers, the regulator, even the general public for buying into the get rich quick, easy credit, pay back whenever culture. Excuse me, but the sheer amount of junk mail I received offering ridiculously easy credit terms during the "good times" mean I'm now on the mail preference service - I was receiving one or two pieces of mail per day. I don't, and didn’t need the credit - I'm an old fashioned kind of "if you don't have it, don't spend it" guy. A pretty fortunate position I know, but even if I wasn't just doing the maths would have indicated to me that it looked too good to be true, and therefore probably was. Or is, as it turned out.

My wife gave me a very important lesson soon after we were first married, after one of our first quarrels. I was trying to placate her by saying that whatever it was I'd done to cause her offence, I was sorry. Her lesson was: "If you don't know why you are saying sorry, then don't say you are, because it is meaningless".

Makes good sense to me.

These bankers aren't sorry - not in a way which expresses real empathy. They are just looking to do with right thing, but with no personal stake involved, their apologies are meaningless, drivel. It may have been better for them to have just kept schtumm.

Corporate humour

I'm glad there are some companies left who understand that mission statements, targets, mention of the weasel-phrases "passionionate" and "committed to blah blah blah" are regarded by some of us as wank-words.

I much prefer the humourous approach, although your friendly neighbourhood lawyer might be scratching his or her head over this on-the-box statement.

This company's website is also a giggle:

www.x-keys.com

Blame it on Peston - they do

I've just heard some bankers on Newsnight more or less claim that Robert Peston, the esteemed financial journalist, is "partly responsible" for the demise of Northern Rock. I didn't catch their names as I was having a shave at the time with the bedroom telly behind me. Life rocks on as usual in Dukcingham Palace.

I caught most of what they were saying though. Once I picked my jaw from the floor and glued it back on, I had to remind myself that these guys are:

1. psychopathic: a non-psychopathic banker can't do their job. the same as a intellectual, bolshy solider can't do his.

2. Unfortunately, sharing the same oxygen as me.

I suppose Peston could have told us all how wonderful things were cooking in that august institution's kitchen, and all would have been well. In fact, fine gateaux would have been served throughout the land.

Poor Robert. He does get excITE-ed to be sure, but I don't believe there'd be many, apart from a few rogue loopers who would claim he's actually inaccurate, or at least knowingly inaccurate.

ANY-way, his excitedness about all things financial make him SUCH an entertainer.

5 February: I found the story on the Reuters website:

http://www.reuters.com/article/GCA-CreditCrisis/idUSTRE5135MO20090204

A quick review of Zizzi, Hornchurch

This branch of the Italian restaurant chain (part of the ASK Group) is located on Station Lane, just south of the town centre. It is situated on what looks like an old pub. My work group went there for our Christmas do, and it was quite crowded. Although I had a few complaints, mainly on the speed of service, I thought we'd try it again, especially as Mrs D had printed off a voucher entitling customers to a free second main course. Fortunately, it was not overly full this time.

The service started well, as did the food. Mrs D had a large garlic bread (large it was, and tasty too with mozzarella and caramelised onion splurged all over it), and I had a vegetable bruschetta, which was everything I hoped it would be. My seafood pasta was just about spot on too, though it could have been a bit bigger, and would have gained the place an extra point if it had been. Wifey had a chicken risotto, which she gave a good mark for.

We waited a while for dessert though. Having said that, when it arrived, my banana and chocolate waffle was perfect, as was Mrs D's apple crumble. Both of these dishes were baked in the wood fired oven, and the menu at least warns you of this.

However, the wait for the bill, having been twenty minutes, was too long. The only way to make the point was to get up and put our coats on. Why do restaurants insist on doing this? Not the first time its happened by any means, and annoying. Waiters can lose a good tip from my by drawing out the bill.

Overall, I'd give Zizzi's 6/10. The food is well cooked, though it does overdo the options involving tomatoes, though I admit to being a despiser of this particular Satanic fruit. Don't mind 'em squashed into a pizza paste or processed by H J Heinz & Co, but on their own...vile.

The service was somewhat slow and haphazard, ranging from top notch to slow and disorganised over the course of one evening. This does mirror our experience over Christmas too, so something to work on, guys. Oh, and the mens' toilets were not working. I won't mark them down on this, as it may have packed up earlier that day - but it is a bit rich of a restaurant featuring a large wine list not to warn newly arrived customers about this. I was about ready to wazz up the wall on the way home - fortunately, home being fairly close.

A pleasant, and not too risky local night out. Not too many thrills, but nothing done especially poorly either.

Snow and London buses

Here's a picture of my street taken at 0730 this morning.

I was on my way to Grays (about 15 miles south east of here) to meet a client. It is ironic that NOT ONE BUS was running in London this morning. Not bloody one of 7,500 buses. And yet in Grays, the buses appeared to be running in quantity. Sounds like a nice day off for London bus drivers anyway.

Snow showers

Not much snow in London, ever, so although this is pathetic by the standards of Winnipeg or Stockholm, this is the first snow of the year. Flurries started at about 1630 this afternoon. and the snow, though puffy and fluffy, is finally settling. I think tomorrow is going to mean transport grinding to a halt. That should be fun.

Snow, does prettify places, even Dagenham.

Accessibility whine: Google Chrome browser

I'm frigging frustrated and intend venting a bit of spleen here.

I've just bought a PC netbook (a rather nice Samsung NC10), which is pretty good given its obvious limitations. The battery life is phenomenal and the keyboard, even given my fat fingers, is usable, just. I'm pretty pleased with it, but I'm forced to use Zoomtext on its higher powers due to the lappy's tiny 10.2 inch screen. Zoomtext is a bit of screen magnification software, and because I've the level 2 version, includes a degree of speech feedback, which can be used to read whatever the mouse is hovering over, or just to read a text file from start to finish, should that be your wish. I mainly use its AppReader tool, which allows you point a mouse at a thing, such as a paragraph within a web page, and have it read from that point onwards.

Now I'm hardly a coding genius, but I know that Zoomtext is pretty intelligent these days at working out the design of a web page, and reading the bits you actually need. In effect, if there's an advert at the side of a page, and you want to read the middle body text, Zoomtext will not shoot over to the ad. This wasn't always the case. Some of this I know, is down to the design of the page itself, some the browser and I know a lot of work has gone into Zoomtext itself (this is product I like one heck of a lot and can recommend it to just about any partially sighted computer user who can afford it, or who can get it on Access to Work is DSA if you're a student).

I wanted to try out the Google Chrome browser as it is safer to use than Explorer, allegedly, though nothing is as safe as my beloved, ageing Mac, it has to be said. So, on it went. And off it went.

I downloaded a quite simple page, www.mobile-review.com and selcted the English translation, and a piece of news. Whereas Zoomtext would be happy to speak the whole website without issue using MS Explorer, it failed to get beyond the first paragraph, before getting lost and drifting off to the bottom left hand side of the page. Completely useless. I could probably use the Chrome browser at work, since I use a giant 30 inch monitor there, but on the netbook, the issue is somewhat forced. So it Chrome was sullenly de-installed.

I wrote to Google summarising the issue, but I do wonder (time and time again) why access tech users are nearly always regarded as an inconvenience or afterthought by mainstream software developers? One of the glorious things about Apple's Mac, is that the technology needed by a blind or partially sighted people to make it speak or mag up the screen is built into the operating system. its not perfect - I'm using the Zoom feature right now, and it will never as smart or easy to use as Zoomtext - but hey, it means I can use my computer for the same initial cost as a non-partially sighted user. A rarity though, and Apple really can't be congratulated for their iPods which are generally an accessibility disaster area. My suggestion: install Rockbox on your pod, but only if you are have 4.5 gen or older as it won't work at all on the Classic version (as I write). And be very careful, read the instructions and follow them to the letter unless you want a dead iPod.

Another rant, while I'm on the subject of access tech. When I type in "Android" and "partially sighted" on Google, looking for information on any third party apps which may have been written in the area of screen mags or speech for the HTC G1 'Google Phone", why are all the phones which appear simple, stupid, big button affairs designed for the extremely old, or non-technical users. HELLOOOOO developers. Wakey wakey manufacturers. I am not a thickie. i am not an ooohh-aaaaahh phenomenon. I have a very specific problem with my eyeballs, and its a relatively simple technical problem to solve with tried and technology on existing products, not a phone for technophobes.

Just because I'm partially sighted doesn't mean my brain is dripping out of my arse (feel free to send it back to me if it should fall out). Most of the recent pictures on this blog were taken on a Nokia N82 phone, which is a great mobile indeed, and hardly a low tech jobby by 2008 standards. It is, indeed, a phone I like one heck of a lot due to its massive feature set. I would rather eat my own hairy turds than voluntarily give it up for a basic crappy phone designed for me, sorry, errrm, partially sighted people. But I would like my N82 a lot MORE if I didn't have to use a £10 hand held magnifier in order to see it. The alternative to credit crunch solution is mag software, going for the easy going sum of £150. As they say in German, warum? Nokia phones running Symbian actually are accessible with speech and screen mag - at a price - but they are a rarity amongst mobile phones (Samsungs, come to think of it, used to be able to, and still might manage to have their screen fonts scaled, to quite large sizes).

Wacky flavoured crisps

Last year, Walkers crisps held a competition in which the public were invited to submit flavour ideas for a forthcoming range of crisps. The competition was called "Do Us A Flavour'. I was buying lunch and coffee from our sandwich van on Monday, and spotted the Do Us A Flavour range, all available from said van. Needless to say I had to try them all, and my guess is that you greedy lot will want to try at least a few of these flavours.

Here's your choice of crisp, with my opinion on each flavour below:

Fish and chips: I reckoned this would be a the tamest flavour, but the flavour is quite fishy and chippy. There is vinegar with a hint of fish essence, plus some lemon. Just like a day out in Margate. Works pretty dang well for me. 7 out of 10.

Crispy duck and hoi-sin sauce: quick a strong flavour of duck. My boss thought it was too ducky, though I considered this an advantage. At least it says what it is going to do on the packet. 7 out of 10 again.

Chocolate and chilli: You can taste the cocoa for the first five seconds, then the chilli kicks in. The flavours on their own work well, but the the flavour overall is chilli. 4 out of 10.

Onion Bhaji: The smell is pretty good, I bought my Indian colleague Amir a pack and he thought the smell was Ok, and the taste, he rated as "nice". However, the main flavour for me seemed to be monosodium glutamate. Very salty taste with a hint of onion only. Only 3 out of 10.

Builders Breakfast: This again is quite a good replication of the flavours, which, according to the packet, are sausage, bacon, egg, buttered toast and tomato ketchup. Quite a challenge for the flavour chemists then, and one which they've made work. For its sheer accuracy, I'm giving these 9 out of 10.

And the weirdest flavour, I've saved till last: Cajun Squirrel. Since I'm not Ray Mears, I've no idea what a squirrel, cajun spiced or otherwise, is meant to taste like. If this was described as cajun chicken, then I'd give it a very high mark indeed as that's just what it tastes like. I'm going to give it 7 out of ten as the cajun spice is just hot enough to give your tongue a small whack without blowing your face off. A good novelty flavour.

I think Walkers have done a pretty good job overall, and i envy the person whose job it was to replicate these flavours.

Happy crunching for the credit crunch.

Adam

Pimp my watch

I am a great fan of TokyoFlash watches. LED watches which are totally pointless in they do no more than any analogue and much less than even a cheap Casio. But that's the not the point of TokyoFlash. They are in this world for gadget freaks and people who just love to show off in a particular way and for whom gold and jewels probably don't impress. If you have ever purchased a hi-fi for its display over its music out, or been to a nightclub to admire the light show over this music, you're a prime candidate as purchaser.

Here's how you tell the time on my Pimp P1 Pusher, below. On the left hand side, follow the column of red LEDs. 5. Now read the number of multi-coloured dots. The red lines indicate quarters: 15, 30 and 45 and 00. So the time here is 5.22 and I'm about to leave work. Easy. This is not the hardest to read TokyoFlash watch, the Barcode range really taxes the brain.

The watch does a little flash every two minutes between 1800 and 0100 - what the accompanying blurb calls 'Pimp time'. Lovely. Isn't 6pm a bit early for pimps?

It is actually quite a comfortable watch to wear, despite its gigantic size, courtesy of the wide leather strap, though wearing it under a shirt cuff is not possible. At £130 (Amazon.co.uk), its not the cheapest of watches either, but it has been a rather pleasant timepiece to use so far, and anyway, my wife bought it for me as a Christmas prezzie, so I paid nowt!