*(a prize for anyone who can name the pop culture reference)
So the amusingly titled (and slightly rude sounding) Large Hadron Collider failed to destroy the Earth today. I don’t know too much about particle physics (having not studied the subject since A-Level), I have a vague understanding of the differences between types of quarks. I wouldn’t feel competant to comment on what we might achieve with the LHC. This doesn’t stop the dribble-chinned, luddite, thicko Daily Mail readers wading in with bizzare mumbo jumbo about the apocalypse. I don’t want to offend your sensibilites by linking to said article here, but if you google it you’ll find their capacity for doom mongering in the face of cold hard scientific facts quite unbelievable.
For a much better treatment of the LHC, check with out:
One of the good things about being a displaced Yorkshireman in Merseyside is the fact that Liverpool is the 2008 European Capital of Culture. This means that the city is awash with vast amounts of cash that it wouldn’t normally have. Someone at the council decided to spend some of that money on La Machine, essentially a gigantic robotic spider. A fifty foot tall, thirty seven tonne spider. One that looked like it could hurt Optimus Prime, or at least give him a spider related heebee jeebies.
It stayed here for one weekend and was the biggest ever piece of free street theatre / street art in the world (so I’ve been told). If you want to see it in action check out the link (or search youtube for La Machine)
The only really disappointments were the fact that the legs aren’t self supporting (it’s actually mounted on a small truck), the abysmal weather and the uncontrolled crowds. Oh and I would have liked it to attack someone like Shelob from Lord of The Rings. Preferably the woman who kept chain smoking in my face in the middle of the crowd.
So the flat I was due to move into had a massive damp problem and consequently I couldn’t move in. Fortunately I have been rescued from Dickensian squalor by my friends Richard and Sarah to whom I owe an enormous debt of gratitude. My life possesions are currently boxed up and secreted in their space room along with a very comfy bed. They do however have slighly unusual house rules, which I shall be blogging about as I discover more about them.
The most important rule in the house appears to be that shoes should be kept at right angles to the wall against which they are being stored. Anything less than true perpendicularity appears to invoke apoplectic rage from my hosts.
The second rule is that the small plastic bags live inside the big plastic bag (which serves as some kind of mothership) under the sink.
On another note I’m finally glue free.