Flies

Tonight a tiny bug flew into my eye, while I was lying on the sofa, busily staring out of the window. This was very painful, and also quite disappointing. Just two nights ago, a gecko was running across the wall of our bedroom and staring at us: we didn't throw a shoe at him or make him feel unwelcome. And yet the lizards don't seem to be keeping their side of the bargain: our flat is once more a happy place for insects.

Laughing at Canadians

In the evening, once our bags had finally arrived, we went out. There was a comedy night at an ex-hockey stadium; a small room, tucked away within a downtown mall.

The comics were a mixed bag; the host didn't tell any jokes for five minutes, which wasn't a very good strategy, and the first comic was a bit insipid, but it improved as the night went on. There was a Quebecois who was chubby and shouted about burgers, there was a smarmy guy with a moustache, and then there was the main attraction, a hammy guy with straggly grey hair who possibly went on a couple of minutes too long, but did have the experience of working a crowd not to make things feel drawn out.

Flies on me

Today I had to do 6 miles, with 6 2 minute intervals "sprinkled in" as the training plan puts it, like these were delicious seasonings on a plate of food rather than a series of attempts to regurgitate your lungs. Today they were all mean to be at 3,000 metre pace, which is a distance I've never actually run, but that recent pace suggests should be around 4 minute kilometres.

The first two were fine - almost too easy, but I started the third by the start/finish line of the F1 track, and headed down along the water. Unbeknownst to me, there was a midge party going on and everyone had been invited.

No flies on me

Today I had to do 6 miles, with 6 2 minute intervals "sprinkled in" as the training plan puts it, like these were delicious seasonings on a plate of food rather than a series of attempts to regurgitate your lungs. Today they were all mean to be at 3,000 metre pace, which is a distance I've never actually run, but that recent pace suggests should be around 4 minute kilometres.

Mosquitoes

Another day at work, at the end of which I was tearful, exhaustion making my emotions ragged and confusing. I packed up, went for dinner and then bought a copy of the New Yorker at the bookstore down the street.

There was a fascinating article about transgenic mosquitoes. A laboratory in Oxford has been modifying the genes of mosquitoes so they die in the absence of tetracycline; they then release the mosquitoes to breed. Since their descendents don't have any tetracycline, the kill-gene kicks in and they die. Because all the unmodified mosquitoes have bred with the modified ones, the population can die off in just a few generations.

Not a bug's life in the Matrix

Last night we walked over to the Funan Digital Life Mall. I hoped this would be a portal into the Matrix, but it's just a five floor shopping centre with lots of televisions and mobile phones for sale. Rather than a bald man in a leather coat offering you a choice between red and blue pills. Oh well. I did feel we'd left reality if only for a minute, when we had to pay more than $5 for a bottle of water.

Butterflies

Walking through the concourse of the MTR station, I saw a butterfly fluttering across the floor; baffled, perhaps, by fluorescent lighting, it was flitting around at shoe level in the tiled expanse.

No Flies On Me

The hotel for the conference is in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by beautiful mountains, a golf course, green, green grass ... And flies. Millions of flies. It was a bit disconcerting to have three days of meetings in a helicopter hangar, where every two minutes another huge black fly would buzz into your ear, or dance across the presentation screen.

Discoveries

After a languid day's riding (about 45 minutes in the saddle and maybe six times as long in the van, driving between trails) I got home and found the majority of a cockroach in the shower. Either it had self-destructed or the cat had finally decided to make herself useful by hunting down the invertebrate portion of the household.

Looking for the buzz

A long, long time ago, when I worked for a small start-up in London, I came into work one Monday morning and read a strange email.

(Most emails received while working for start-ups are alarmingly prosaic, concerned with sour milk in the fridge, smoking bans, and ever-so-occasionally everyone-clear-your-desk-you're-fired. I suppose variety is nice.)