Mundane Moments

It's not going to make any more seats available, so you'd think it would make the number standing worse.

I was on the 738 from Newark and now on the 1739 from kings cross. Loads of seats on both.

Mind you, 20 minutes into the journey and we're in Barnet, which seems bad.

I'm waiting for my change at Doncaster. There was actually a train to Sheffield here about to leave when I arrived, but my ticket wouldn't have been valid for it. Sometimes I just go for it and hope they don't check, but I didn't bother today. So a 20 minute wait it is.

This feels a bit a bit 'flash back clip-show' if I'm honest.

Is it the budget constrained end of series 'bottle episode'?.

In Wales, tap on and tap off and it costs you a few quid to go anywhere. I can park for free at Merthyr station, get the whole family on the train to Cardiff and back for less than it costs to park the car in Cardiff. No peak time blackout because nobody in South Wales has a job.

And sometimes, when I get back to Merthyr, my car is still there, in one piece.

The problem is predominantly London-related. Too many people want to get from not-London to London at peak times. Pricing is how you try to, at least, incentivise people to travel at other times.

If peak prices are removed then either off-peak prices go up, or subsidies are needed. Either way… it’s a cost-reduction for London (and all who sail towards her) and an increase for everyone else. That means a huge subsidy for business (a major pirchaser of peak travel) and a reduction of the cost of commuting to London which will lead to house price and rental increases in all the locations that benefit (so that’s a free hit for people who own property in places where London is commutable).

So the winners probably aren’t the people you hope would be winners. Second order effects and all that.

Adding capacity might help.. might mean more people at least get a seat for their £99 (which they really should get) but that’s hard and expensive and probably just a band-aid because if travelling to London because cheaper/better then more people will do it.

I’m not sure there’s any solution better than many fewer people making that journey. Which is the opposite of what you’re trying to achieve there. You’re actually a poster-child for what needs to happen… you moved from London to Sheffield. More of that sort of thing is what’s needed.

A customer has picked the logo from an AI selection. The have chosen the logo where I gave it the instruction "like the first logo, but loads more planes".

Is 4 years old too young to introduce a child to boxing as a hobby?

No. Although I'd probably go for Taekwondo instead. More focus on self discipline.

Probably depends who you are intending them boxing against

Pads and gloves at this age, I'm not a monster.

I'm begining to think meta have done a thing. Neither Facebook or messenger are working properly.

This reminded of the great talkback debate of yore about whether or not a grown up could win a fight against a bunch of feral toddlers.

I think the general concensus was that it was a bit weird and no one was googling that, so we all started getting excited about winning the ashes and bullying Berry over the internet by making sure he had a massive donkey score instead.

Is this for the " how many 4 year olds could you take on* question?

Edit hadn't read down to Sean's post.

Can't think of where else to put this, so here it goes. Got news through my mother that my Uncle Harry in New York has got about 48 hours to live.
A few of the Talkbackers over there have met him from the time when I lived in New York. He is (was going to write was, but not yet) one of the most charismatic men you could ever hope to meet and, if the so-called Irish charm is a stereotype, he at least came very close to the perfect example. When sober.
I lived in the apartment above him for two and a half years when he the super in the block and I grew to know him well. He was mostly sober, barring a relapse just around the time I moved there (a trip to rehab got himself sober again), and until towards the end when the last time I saw him he was being carted off to another rehab. I had visited him in various places since.

He has possibly the sharpest wit I've come across; always a funny rejoinder, always on the tease. Generally in Irish households you're never more than three sentences from being roasted by another family member; with Harry it was immediate and constant.

I tried calling the number my mother gave me but it rang off. According to my Uncle Joe hea been asking for me. Whether that's because he's off his tits on morphine and thinks he wants $10 for beer or whether he genuinely wants to speak to me one last time is irrelevant. He wants to speak to me and I'm quite touched.

I only hope I'm not too late: I have my spiel prepared. "So you're finally leaving us you old bastard; you threatened to leave us so many times, and disappeared so often but this is it. I love you you old bastard, despite all the shit you caused, and I'll miss you." Somewhere deep down, even if he can't respond, I hope he'll hear it and smile.

And just a quick story while I think about it. Driving through queen's in his minivan not long after a heavy snowfall, some kids were chucking ice at passing cars. Harry stopped, wound down the window, and shouted over in his still broad Belfast accent: "Oi youse! Yes you, fat cunt, stop fucking doing that or I'll fucking come over there and belt you". I'm sure I've missed some expletives and an insult, but you get the picture: life was never dull. I know @chicago met him when he stayed; possibly the only person who could run Harry close for insane and hilarious situations.

Sorry to hear about Harry, very vivid memories of the man and his van. Hope you get to speak with him.

I think he was sober when you visited. I can't recall. I can't remember if it was you or a work colleague I was playing pool with round the corner when he called because he was stuck. When I arrived he was lying on his back like a turtle (and pissed as a newt; he was very reptilian that day) and myself plus whoever it was had to dray what felt like a 100kg sack of spuds back onto his chair.