Flying monkeys at that

What kind of disease are you?


happyinmotion is caused by monkeys.

A case of happyinmotion complex is characterized by a constant impersonation of Hitler.
To cure happyinmotion, relay all conversation through Mr. Winkels, a stuffed animal made from your own belly button lint.


Anyway, I’m just off to pick a fight with the Soviet Union. I may be some time.

Could it be…

that I have beaten notabouthim to a cool link? It could. Someone duct taped to the ceiling:

Opposite of monopoly

And today’s word is ‘monopsony’

n : (economics) a market in which goods or services are offered by several sellers but there is only one buyer

Good things

Yay! The British Mars probe, Beagle, is alive… and posting on LJ:

I concur with the recommendation for dried apricots, not tinned. Adultery cake:

Rest of the UK pics

can be found at



and huge, >1 Mb pans of the roof of Bath Abbey. Big, old, stone buildings can be added to the curry, cider and about 10 people that make up the list of things that I miss.

In a hurry but

Some more pics of trip at:

a href=>

Back now

That turned out rather fun in the end. So here’s some pics of the scary Putney squat, now that it is no more.

I have sweets and presents. I also have jetlag. So see yous at some point.

So I’m in the UK


So yes, its great to see certain people and there are Old Things. But the reasons why I left are still ever present. Am tempted to curl up in a ball and pretend I’m not here. Or maybe I’m just over-analysing jetlag? No, I’m fine, I just find England heartbreaking.

coz B3ta is good

and a cautionary tale for those of us who like to wave large sharp things around:

And to celebrate

Today we’ve gone unconditional on the section and I’ve picked the last of the gorse needles out of my flesh, so here’s another pic, from Chch.


So I’ve just written a paper on scientists in places like AgResearch, HortResearch, ESR, etc…

And one of my points is that they have very low morals.

OOOPS! I mean very low morale.

Am I glad I got someone to check over what I wrote? Am I more glad that they are substantially less retarded than me? Do I owe someone cake?

Some serious shopping

Okay, okay, deep breaths, trying to remain calm.

We just bought a section*. Up in Brooklyn, down a cul-de-sac, north facing, big macrocarpa, steep, quiet, cozy. Exactly what we want and what its taken us a year to find. Currently wondering if the macrocarpa we’ll probably have to take out can be milled and used for the timber for the house.

So now we just have to finish redoing the place in Pukerua Bay, then build an eco-house in Brooklyn, with a grass roof, then we can go to parties and stagger home all mashed up at a god-awful hour of the morning without having to sit on trains full of drunken asshats.

Thus I won’t be going for a mad shop during my impending UK trip. And I will be talking to architects in jumpers. And engineers and builders and the council and lawyers and finance people and a therapist**.

* Subject to a whole pile of crap.
** Okay, my therapist is Pombagira but ain’t that true for us all.


Okay, this flu is getting boring now. And I’ve work to do, work that they pay me for and I care about, which is a rare combination, so I’d like to get on with it, please.

Woo! Junket-tastic

So work are sending me on a free trip around the world! And they’re sending me to …. Nottingham.

Was I particularly cruel to kittens in a previous life?

Anyway, free trip to see mates back in UK. Ok, not going to complain. Anyone in NZ want anything from UK? Or vice versa?


Endorphins good… makes picking gorse needles out of my arms and legs into a warm fuzzy experience…

… my body makes the best drugs….

Such a fantatically bad day

I’ve just had a fantastically bad day, far beyond the usual things not working and nothing getting done. Today involved holding on to spiky things, burning rubber, being stiff as a board at aikido, the foulest cup of tea that I’ve ever paid money for, discovering expensive things are broken, discovering other expensive things are worn out and can’t be replaced, further expensive things rubbing on yet more expensive things, finding out that I can’t use a compass, the sun being in the wrong place, mould, not having a deep 10 mm socket and that no-one in NZ knows or cares what a doweling jig is. Apparently you just drill the holes in the right place. Well, thanks.

And everybody else is stupid, lazy and wrong.

My day was so bad that when I discovered that I had put my phone through the washing machine, I just had to collapse laughing, in a strangled, manic and probably scary way.

But hey, look on the bright side – I now have a clean (though non-functional) phone. And it hasn’t been attacked by ducks.

Go me!

So I got a letter from the chief executive of (big organisation that we deal) with and a letter from the chief executive of the (bigger organisation that we deal with).

Wow I’m so important. Unfortunately both letters said I was wrong and a f’uckwit. And you know what? Yeah, I’m pretty much wrong, in a measureable way. As to my f’wittedness, I’ll leave that for you to decide.

Oh botheration.


but I have this theory, coz I am a scientist at heart, though currently be-suited and pretending to be an economist. Though right now I am a wonk, and have been wonking hard all day.

There are only three forms of human communication*. Firstly, idle chatter for the purposes of generating social capital. Which theoretically I can see the importance of… Secondly, flirting, for purposes we all know and love. And that’s far more fun in the flesh, and too bandwidth intensive otherwise. Thirdly, questions for the purposes of actual information transfer. This is best done by me working out exactly what the question is, then going off, hiding in a lab and coming back several years later with a provably correct answer, with a highly optimised proof-of-concept demonstrator. This approach is only applicable to certain classes of questions, so for example, if you ask me what my favourite colour is, I’ll get very lost and resort to my default communication mode, namely flirting.

So that’s why it would be utterly pointless for me to get a lj. Then again, a man cannot spend the entire day wonking…

The real home page can be found at, complete with useful things such as an abstract of my thesis on laser welding, 9000 pixel wide pans of pretty parts of NZ and a sadly unfulfilled lust for curry.

* Yes, this is a totally arbitrary delineation with a shiny, brittle varnish of scientificyness, but hey, I work in policy, what do you expect?