District 9

I like this film a lot. I first saw it, when it was released about three years ago, during a twenty-eight hour flight from Heathrow to Auckland. My mind was somewhat fuzzy from sleep deprivation. I thought then it was funny, that the alien characters and other CGI parts were done very well but that there was something a bit disconcerting about the complete dorkishness of the protagonist. When I watched it again last night I twigged that this may be integral to the film's dramatic realisation.

Sharlto Copley as Wikus van der Merwe

This film may not have broken the mould by viewing “us” as being in the wrong and by siding with the underdogs. Indeed, this is a familiar trope but only recently have the underdogs been aliens. It did, however, precede Avatar, in which aliens are entirely the good guys and humans are just rapacious invaders.

The protagonist of District 9, Wikus van der Merwe, is an ingenue although one with whom it is difficult, at first, to empathise. The bureaucratic MNU operative whose authority, conferred by his promotion to lead the team charged with evicting the aliens from District 9, quickly leaks away when he attempts to joke with the “cowboy” military force deployed to protect the officials giving notice of eviction to the aliens.

There are some slapstick moments in the film: when Wikus accidentally squirts himself with the mysterious alien liquid; when he gets home and tells his wife he may have shit his pants – in a room which is darkened to conceal his friends who are waiting to surprise him at his birthday party; when he pukes over his birthday cake.

But from being a fool at whom we sneer he becomes a tragic hero.

Wikus suffers rejection by, and isolation from, his wife Tania whom he clearly loves, and he is ostracised by human society due to his Kafkaesque metamorphosis into a “prawn”. The metamorphosis is caused by contact with the alien liquid but his 'alienation' is enhanced by the misinformation spread by MNU that this affliction came about from perverse sex with the aliens.

He gains compassion for the aliens via his own mistreatment at the hands of humans. Perhaps the major turning point for this character is when he realizes that his employers, rather than having his best interests at heart are, in fact, quite interested in removing his heart.

Wikus' physical transformation is grasped by MNU as a military opportunity as only aliens can operate the alien bio-weaponry but he is treated callously by them to the point where they attempt surgical removal of his heart with complete disregard for any feelings he may have about this.

As Wikus is about to be carved up by MNU surgeons he makes a violent escape and eventually makes his way back to District 9 to hide out. When an alien, Christopher, tells him that the liquid which has caused his metamorphosis could also be used to reverse the process he acquires alien weaponry and attacks the MNU facility to retrieve the flask of liquid.

In the ensuing fighting he initially abandons Christopher, escaping from Koobus, the psychotic soldier, but then returns to help the alien. He feels betrayed by Christopher later when the alien says he cannot 'fix' him immediately because he needs all of the liquid to fuel his spacecraft to travel quickly to his home planet and return with help to rescue his people.

Ultimately though, I believe Wikus accepts his fate and is pleased that Christopher has escaped.

The final poignant image is of him as a fully transformed alien sitting alone fashioning a rose from scrap metal like one that he has already left anonymously on his wife's doorstep.

Torchwood: Children of Earth

I watched all episodes of this five part mini-series having keenly anticipated the kind of compelling drama brought to us by some of the most recent Dr Who episodes. Instead of being entranced and rapt I was increasingly disappointed by discontinuities and cheap narrative tricks. I don't think it was the production values, special effects or even the acting that made it so unconvincing. I believe the fault lay with the writing.

Each episode had something that was disconcertingly incredible.

I mean, it's interesting that Jack's head and arm survived an explosion in his stomach that, according to earlier estimates, would destroy everything within a mile radius. Was the power of the bomb overestimated or was the survival of the body parts just extraordinary good luck?

And then, in the initial negotiations with the 456 the options are to comply or be destroyed but why would the aliens destroy the planet when they wanted children. Surely they would just take what they wanted especially since they had such advanced technology that we couldn't possibly fight them.

When Gwen and Rhys where trying to free Jack, Ianto came from nowhere to rescue our concrete encased hero with some sort of construction site vehicle. That is, he managed to enter a militarily secure site, obtain and drive a digger, bash down the wall into the correct part of the building not knowing where Jack was and successfully remove Jack in his concrete block away from the well armed and highly trained special force squaddies. Gwen and Rhys didn't know where Jack was; they were opening cells at random. Perhaps Ianto had an ESP link with Jack that we weren't told about.

When the camera man was invited into the aliens' box everybody watching seemed immediately to recognize the human child plugged into the alien for what it was and were saddened by the sight yet, to me, it looked more like Gollum from Lord of the Rings.

Jack and Ianto's relationship seemed totally spurious, unlikely and gratuitous. Ianto doesn't seem particularly attractive either physically or personally, but perhaps that's just me. I was very surprised to see all the comments on the guardian blog site from fans who said Ianto was their main reason for watching.

But that bit of foolishness involving shooting at the 456's specially constructed box full of deadly gases, who thought that up then?

That the civil servant. Frobisher (Peter Capaldi), should kill his wife and children and then himself when told his children must be 'inoculated', seemed wholly unlikely when he could have telephoned his family to warn them and then killed the Prime Minister.

And, previously, he had been naive enough to be grateful to the Prime Minister for giving him responsibility for the Blank Page executions but why would the PM disavow him of this belief though, it would serve no purpose. It was simply a means to tell us, the audience, that the PM was shafting Frobisher to avoid blame himself.

The last minute conversion of Johnson, the woman leading the special forces, was also unlikely.

Why was the MI5 officer, Dekker, shot in the foot at the beginning of the scene where Jack eventually inverted the aliens' communications wavelength and fed it into his grandson? Dekker didn't do anything particularly bad; he just said he didn't know what to do, and shooting him was not part of an interrogation procedure or to get him to comply with anything.

Babyfaced John Borrowman just can't act from the dark side anything like as well as someone with the gravitas of, say, Christopher Ecclestone could have done. And, also, we didn't know anything about Stephen his grandson. We didn't really care about him particularly but using anyone as a weapon just seems like a particularly callous and inhumane thing to do.

Captain Jack's daughter Alice, Stephen's mother, may well be a really nice person but acting as a character in unpleasant circumstances should she smile politely quite so much? Maybe it's just the set of her face but it puzzled and distracted me.

How did the people in Swansea know that, several hundred miles away, Jack's human-radio attack on the 456 had been successful? And, anyway, why would inverting their communications signal have done the aliens any harm.

The ending, with Jack back in his swashbuckling mode, wanting to go gallivanting around the universe in his "coldfusion cruiser surfing the ion reefs just at the edge of the solar system", seemed completely at odds with the fact that he had sacrificed his grandson. It made him seem more racer-boy tool than torn, anguished hero.

Breakfast of champions

Camembert and strawberry jam on buttered toast.

So many layers of sensation: flavour, texture and pong (let's face it, the word 'fragrance' can NOT be applied to the smell of camembert after a couple of days in the kitchen in summer).

I've just made a slice of toast from the crust of yesterday's home-made (in a machine) light wholemeal loaf. It was still very fresh as this was the first cut and it only finished cooking at about 7:00 pm yesterday evening. It was lighter than I normally make as I'd reversed the recipe's two-thirds wholemeal to one-third white flour ratio as an experiment. I think I prefer the result.

My toaster is very pretty but complete crap at toasting. It irritates me to think that I'm a style-victim again; as with the Brabantia rubbish bins which suck (I mean literally they suck so powerfully when you try to remove the bag that the bag tears where you're gripping it). The toast from my pretty toaster is invariably smokin' around the edges while underdone in the centre regardless of where in the extra long slot the bread is placed.

No matter. I can cut off the edges. Then spread with Spreadable, which does exactly what it says on the pack. Some Traidcraft, organic strawberry jam follows; it takes a minute or so for the jam to soften in the warmth from the toast after which the thinnest slices of Tesco Finest unpasteurised Camembert de Normandie are placed on top and, again, left to bask in the warmth of the toast. It's not easy to slice camembert thinly when it's nicely ripened but my Global Deba does a fair job. It's an ultra thin knife bevelled on one side and completely flat on the other giving an extremely thin profile. I wonder though whether other styles, scalloped maybe, or other materials, like zirconium carbide, may be more suited; a subject for future experiments, me thinks.

But the final, climactic stage has arrived; no experiment this, it's a well known pleasure deepened now by anticipation. There is something quite naughty about the smell of ripe camembert, although perhaps, this shouldn't be probed too deeply on this family oriented blog. So many levels! I don't know but I'd bet camembert is very high in umami tasting glutamates. This aspect is enhanced by the fruitiness of the jam. Your tongue is being smothered by the creamy cheese, seduced by the sweet, sweet, fruity jam and your nose is being gently assaulted by the slightly acrid vapours from the camembert. There's another contrast in the crunch from lightly toasted bread against the soft, melting smoothness of the other ingredients. Yumster! This is a champion breakfast. Fit for kings. And Michelin stars.

Mystery Twisty Bracelets

The mystery of “Mystery Twisty Bracelets” is that although they are plaited there are no loose ends. How is that plaiting done? I learnt to make these leather bracelets more than thirty years ago when I met some leather craftsmen, living in a communal squat in London, who sold their produce in Camden Lock market.

I still have a couple of tools and some dye left from that time but I hadn't considered making anything until January this year when I made a knife.

I wanted to make a sheath for it as well so I bought myself half a shoulder of un-dyed, vegetable tanned, 3 mm thick hide from Le Prevo. I’ve still got plenty left over after making two sheaths so I thought I’d have a go at making a couple of these bracelets for my two daughters.

I googled for leather bracelets and eventually found some diagrams of the technique for a three strand bracelet so I got to work. First you need a scalpel or craft knife; I use a Swann & Morton and I find the 10A blade most useful (although that's a 10 in the picture). I cut a strip 30mm wide and 250mm long for my eldest daughter, 25mm longer for my own, and 25mm shorter for my youngest daughter. I also reduced the width to 24mm for the smallest one which is the subject of this tutorial.

Cut it out and then cut two internal slits, making three strands of equal width. Make the slits shorter, at both ends, than the full length of the leather strip by the same amount as the strip is wide. This uncut square will be where the press stud goes.

See the coin in the picture above, I use that as a guide to help round off the four corners.

Punch a hole at each end of each slit; it looks neater and prevents tearing. The wooden handled tool below is an edge beveller. It has been used to shave all of the edges to a forty-five degree angle; again it looks neater and, in the case of a twisty, helps the strands lie comfortably against one another.

Next the leather can be dyed. I’ve used a mahogany coloured, spirit soluble aniline dye which I bought thirty years ago.

I use a rag to apply the dye to the front and back surfaces and then a small paint brush to get in to the inner edges and holes.

Now, prepare for the first twist by pulling up the middle strand.

The top right hand corner must be rotated down and through the gap you’ve just made between the middle and the outer two strands.

Obviously I used two hands to do this, I’m only holding it like this so I could take the picture.

That’s half a twist, prepare for the next bit by pulling up the two outer strands this time.

The top right hand corner must be rotated down and through the gap just like before.

This is one complete twist and the bracelet will now lie flat.

Repeat the whole process one more time having shuffled the twists down to give yourself room to manoeuvre.

Pull up middle strand, rotate top end through, pull up outer strands, rotate top through.

Next punch holes in the centre of each end for the press studs to go through.

Locate the cap in the anvil, push the stem through the hole in the leather, place the socket on top and hold in place with the spreading tool. Then a good whack with a hammer on the tool will mesh the two parts together.

So, now a quick polish and the job is done. I use Lord Sheraton Leather Balsom which smells gorgeous.

And we have one completed twisty.

Here it is, in the middle, being worn by Rosie, along with a slightly larger three strand one on the left of the picture and my, even larger, five strand one on the right.

The odd thing is that I couldn't find a web site that explained how to do a five strand twisty and I couldn't figure out how to extend the three strand technique.

I decided to experiment though and, to my surprise, my fingers just did the business; it must have been stored there in motor memory. However, as I wasn't watching when I did it I still have no idea how to do a five strand twisty. Maybe next time I'll watch my fingers out of the corner of my eye.

Dartmoor, May 2006

In mid-May I spent a couple of days on my own on Dartmoor, prior to visiting the Exeter Knife Show. I showed some of my photos to the peeps over on the BushcraftUK forum so I can quickly bung em on here as well.


A glorious time was had by ..., well, me anyway: the weather was brilliant, the scenery was invigorating and the solitude was welcome; the food was quite good too.


Dartmoor has great lumps of basalt poking out of it, this is Saddle Tor between Bovey Tracy and Widecombe-in-the-moor:



Driving away from that tor toward Widecombe-in-the-moor I spotted this newly born foal:

note how other ponies congregate around it to protect the little mite. It's two-thirds covered in its caul and the mother still has the rest of it so hasn't yet ejected the placenta.


It took me six minutes to figure out how to operate the zoom on my new camera by which time the mother had licked off most of the caul but the foal had not yet attempted to stand:



I expect that little foal will be up and about in no time just like this little sweety pie (I thinks that's its name as it has an S on its forehead):



I stayed at Cockingford camp site which is completely unspoilt: a field with a river running through it, there's no shop, no fast food joint, just a washroom block and a couple of taps for drinking water. The farmer will sell you milk which you can keep cool in the stream but make sure the trolls don't steal it. They live here:



I didn't spot any trolls but the river running through the woodland is gorgeous and mythical critters of all sorts would not seem out of place there:



You can collect dead wood for your camp fire in the forest but some of the trees there just will not die:



So, after collecting firewood and catching wild sausages you can relax with a spot of lunch:

and show off your bushcrafty skills from the comfort of your armchair.

Intro

Having been out of the race now for nearly two years I felt I should let you know that I haven't just been sitting on my 4rse getting fat. Apart from that I've also been

• obsessed with food: cooking, reading about cooking, eating, not so interested in reading about eating (as in restaurant reviews) as I'd rather be doing it myself;
  
• interested in bushcraft and the change of spirit that this has induced in me, looking after myself and doing things for myself, making things and adapting things that don't immediately fit the bill (I'm somewhat ashamed that it's taken nearly fifty years for me to find this attitude);
  
• blades of various kinds: I have two Gränfors Bruk axes now and more than enough fixed blade and folding knifes to shake a stick at;
  
• just now I'm also actually getting my head back into computering by offering advice on programming forums.
  

I'll tell you more about these activities and interests in future postings.