Red's blog

I may or may not have decided to wake up to watch the Canada/USA game, and despite the game itself, I think I'm most enjoying the BBC coverage.

The play-by-play announcer is commenting on beach balls in the stands. He's using words like 'extradite' and 'fractious' and has referenced Liverpool football club. One hit was talked about while the play went from one end, to the other, and back again. At the end of the second period, he referred to the buzzer as the 'hooter'.

If I was listening on the radio I would be really angry, but watching it on TV is awesome.

There hasn't been much change in the last, uh, while. I can see more or less fine now. Museums aren't the greatest (poorly lit placards at the back of the case suck!) and at the end of a long Excel-intensive day, I have to skooch up the font a size. I'm hoping those go away.

It's been 2 weeks since I got zapped, and I have to say that surprisingly little has changed. If I was smart, I would have jury-rigged some sort of eye-chart to see if they are getting better or not. Hindsight being what it is.

As it stands, my vision was better pre-surgery with glasses than it is now, but the follow-up appointment isn't for another couple weeks. Maybe this means that they will continue to get better until then. At least then I will be able to find out how good my eyes are, if I meet the driving standard, will they get better, that sort of thing.

I'm now on to the day of recovery, and I have to say that it is really uneventful.

I had to tape shields over my eyes to ensure that I wouldn't rub my eyes before I woke up enough to remember that is the cardinal sin with eye surgery.

I was hoping for some eye shields that would afford me some dignity, but that was not the case. Taped to my face.

As I've made no secret, I decided to get my eyes lasered. I've worn glasses since I was 5 years old, and I made myself a promise that as soon as my eyes stopped changing and I was graduated, making money - I would get them zapped. My prescription has since stabilized, I have graduated and am making money, so went for it.

As my very sporatic postings suggest, my usual high-life of hookers and blow was suspended this summer. In its place was a placement at a coal station during a major refurbishment with 60 hour work weeks. It was a summer of fly ash and sweat. Lies and Weaseling. Safety meetings and safety walks. Lots of safety. Enough safety to make you want to wear a hi-vis vest and safely step in front of a train.

Anyways, at the end of a project it is a good idea to reflect. Learning points, points for improvement - that sort of thing. Anyways, here's mine.

I need to be more cynical.

Because I live outside Nottingham, I feel obliged to visit the areas contained within the tales of Robin Hood. This is a mistake. Most of them are crap.

Recently, I decided to visit Sherwood Forest. I know that someone from the interior of BC visiting an English forest is akin to someone from the North East of Australia SCUBA diving in a pool, but even I was surprised. I mostly went to go for a bike ride. I figured I’d catch the train to Mansfield, then cycle to the Great Oak, Then ride back home. It would be a 55km trip, and a nice way to spend a big chunk of the day.

The DVLA is the British driving license people. I have written about them before, but they had to go and top themself.

As part of my job, I need a driving license. I was able to drive on my Canadian one for a year, but that expired a couple months ago. I had to make the switch.

The DVLA is conveneiently located nowhere near anyplace you can access with public transportation. You have to drive to get there. The irony of this makes me smile. My mode of transportation is a bike, so I took an afternoon off work to cycle there with the plethora of required information.

Some of you (hopefully) noticed that I've been silent for the last while. While I would like to regale you with some heroic tale of being taken hostage my Somalian pirates, the truth is much lamer.

Most of my articles were written on the bus or at school. Whenever some paper had me as a captive audience, I wrote. Some were good, a lot sucked, and some of both made it to a campus newspaper.

I had a revelation. I enjoy biking. I also enjoy snow. What could be better than the union of the aforementioned biking and snow?

To kick off this extreme sport, many factors have to fall into place. Your bike must be crappy. Preferably with street slicks.

The next factor is a country that is completely useless when it comes to dealing with snow. That way, you'll have snow buildup to plow through.

The hardest part to plan is a freak snowstorm. But hey, you never know.