It has rained most of today. I'm not complaining; it's been nice for the heat that we've been enduring for the past few months to break, and I've always been rather fond of the look and feel of a forest during the rain, particularly if you have a decent amount of shelter and/or the appropriate clothing to protect you — both of which we have, because we are English, and we are always prepared for torrential downpours, even in the height of summer.

It's been a relatively unremarkable day today, and that's just fine with me. I went down to the gym earlier and did a bit of stuff there, then caught the "land train" back to near our accommodation. The term "land train" always seems a bit redundant; most trains go on land. What they really mean here is "road train", given that it's a train that goes on roads rather than rails. Regardless of what they call it, though, it's a nice way of getting around the forest, and means you don't have to walk everywhere. This is good, because the site here is pretty large, and the topography varies quite wildly in one particular area, so it's nice to be able to jump on something that means you don't have to stagger up steep hills after, say, doing a workout that your body really isn't used to.

We spent much of the rest of the day in the lodge. I played Arzette: The Jewel of Faramore, which I've had on my shelf for a while, and seemed like a nice holiday game. I reckon I could have probably polished the whole thing off in an afternoon, but I've called it a day for now, so there's a bit left to play tomorrow.

I haven't taken many photos as yet — while I love the forest surroundings, I tend to find that one shot of a bunch of trees tends to look like every other shot of a bunch of trees if you take too many, but if you're curious, here's a few little photos for you to enjoy:

This is a photo of a bunch of trees, as taken from the aforementioned "land train". While there is a lot of accommodation here, it's integrated very nicely into the forest, so there's usually at least one direction you can look in and see nothing but trees. Very nice indeed.

Here's where we're staying. It's an "Executive Lodge", which means it's slightly posher than the one we stayed in last time. That means it's a bit roomier, it has two toilets (one for pooing!) and a bubbly jacuzzi "hydrobath" in the bathroom. This is a noisy thing that… well, it makes your bath bubble like you're perpetually farting in it, but it's nice and relaxing for brief periods, particularly when combined with something relaxing in the water like a bath bomb. Andie and I have a tradition of stopping by Lush before a trip to Center Parcs and grabbing a few bath bombs to enjoy while we're here — I have indeed been doing just that for the past couple of days.

Here's a mildly artful shot by Andie showing a regular visitor to our patio (we absolutely, definitely haven't encouraged this with the judicious application of walnuts) framed by an empty glass and some Peperami ketchup bottles. (The Firestick one is really good!) According to Andie, the squirrel's name is Susan, though we don't actually know what its gender is, because we don't know how to tell that in squirrels. The Sword in the Stone led me to believe that lady squirrels had long eyelashes and sobbed over their loved ones, but I have seen no evidence of this.

Oh! And yes, I watched The Black Cauldron last night. As expected, it deviated significantly from the plots of the first two Chronicles of Prydain books, but it stood quite nicely as a story in its own right, so long as you don't get too sniffy about certain details of it. In the books, for example, Taran is completely unable to wield the magic sword Dyrnwyn, but in the movie he unleashes its full power with no difficulty whatsoever. Also, the one who sacrifices themselves to finally destroy the Cauldron once and for all at the end is completely different between the book and film, too, largely because the movie is a strange hodgepodge of influences from those first two books, discarding significant amounts of both in favour of making one nicely standalone movie.

In a way, I think this is probably for the best. We've all seen what happens when one story gets stretched out over multiple movies — be it whatever the fuck the Marvel cinematic universe is doing these days, or even the numerous Peter Jackson Tolkien adaptations. You can go a bit far in that regard; Disney's approach of acknowledging that books and animated movies are very different forms of media and thus have different requirements to tell their stories seemed to work well.

Anyway, we're hoping to get up at a reasonable hour and go for a swim tomorrow. We've also booked a session at the ultra-posh "Aqua Sana" spa for Saturday, so that will be a particularly luxurious opportunity to rest, relax and enjoy ourselves. In between, I'm sure we'll occupy ourselves appropriately. With that in mind, it's probably a good time to head bedwards for me!

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The post #oneaday Day 460: A rainy day in the forest appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

It is somewhere in the region of 27-28 degrees C here today. I know this is laughable to people who live in the actual desert or tropics or whatever, but it's bloody boiling here in the land of no (well, more like very little these days) air conditioning.

The heat is exhausting, but it's also quite nice. With the stuff Andie has done in the garden, it's really nice to just go and sit either out in the catio or on the nice garden furniture down at the bottom of the garden. We bought a nice parasol from Ikea the other day, so we can sit in the shade when down at the bottom of the garden, and the catio has a certain degree of shade by virtue of it being enclosed.

Trouble is, with it being quite nice to just go and sit in the garden and bask in the heat, it's not exactly conducive to getting anything done. I feel like I want to make some videos, but summoning up the motivation to do so is proving exceedingly troublesome, because doing so will mean locking myself in my study, and there's not much in the way of ventilation in there unless I blast the fans up full (which interferes with voice recording a bit) or have the window open (which brings in outside noise).

It's not so much the practicality of the situation as it is just the sense of lethargy that this heat brings. My brain is saying "let's go", but my body is just going "I want to melt into the sofa". So I think what I might try and do is spend a bit of the daytime scripting some bits and pieces, then once the sun goes down, maybe record into the evening tonight. Then I can spend the remaining daylight hours sitting by the fan doing very little.

The other problem is that the mental lethargy brought about by this heat is it makes making any sort of decision difficult. Do I want to continue with my playthrough of The Sword of Hope? Do I want to do some Atari ST stuff? Do I want to do some Atari 8-bit stuff? Do I want to do some Evercade stuff? Part of the problem is that the answer to all of those is "yes", but from a practical perspective I should probably just pick one or two and be content with that, rather than feeling like I "have" to churn out two, three, four or more videos.

Anyway, when I'm done here I'm going to make that decision, make some notes on what I want to cover, then once the sun dips behind the horizon and things get a little cooler, I might just go and record something. Or I might just leave it until tomorrow. I guess it doesn't really matter all that much.

In the meantime, Xenoblade Chronicles X is a-callin'.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

If you want this nonsense in your inbox every day, please feel free to subscribe via email. Your email address won't be used for anything else.

The post #oneaday Day 386: Suboptimal creativity temperature appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I do not like being ill, because it is annoying and painful, particularly when it is that particular breed of "ill" somewhere between a cold and flu that causes you to feel constantly stuffed up and occasionally cough like an eighty year old smoker. Also I have the shits.

It is not a pleasant day to be ill, either. Andie's phone claimed it was -7C outside earlier and while I tend to take phone weather readings with a pinch of salt, the fact that it is still visibly frosty outside leads me to believe that yes, it certainly is at least a bit cold out there. Meg the cat certainly let me know that it was cold when I let her in just now.

I have spent the morning in bed accompanied by one or both of our cats at all times. I'm always amazed at quite how well cats understand people; they know exactly when you're not feeling great, whether it's physically, mentally or both, and they know that what you often need in such situations is company and affection. Ruby, who is typically the more irritating of our two cats, rather fond of walking across your face when you're trying to do something, sat with me quietly and peacefully for most of the morning, even curling up and settling down for a bit, which is rather rare to see her do.

I'm up now and craving nothing more than "ill person food". Specifically, I'm feeling a steak slice, nice crisps (Walkers Max!) and some chocolate might help with the doldrums of being ill, accompanied by plenty of Lemsip, of course.

This is a singularly tedious blog post, I'm aware, as there are few things more boring than listening to someone else talk about how ill they are — I've heard enough complaints from my parents about my grandmother having such conversations with them to know this all too well — but, well, it's something to do now that I appear to have exhausted my capacity for lying in bed wheezing all morning. Now I am on the couch beneath a blanket like a homeless person while Andie puts up the Christmas tree and decorations, because now it's December, it is an acceptable time to do so.

Time to dose up on drugs and steak slices, I think, and hopefully I'll feel a bit better tomorrow.

The post 2508: The Cough of an Eighty Year Old Man appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I don't like it when it's hot. I don't like it when it's cold, either, but I think if I had to be too hot or too cold all the time, I'd plump for too cold, because at least you can put extra layers on or whatever. When it's too hot, there's very little you can do about it.

I mean, sure, you can spray yourself with water, sit in front of a fan or whatever. But there's nothing that will stave off that eventual, extremely unpleasant feeling of sweating from pretty much every pore you have until your clothes are damp with your own gross, disgusting sweat; that point where you hope no-one brushes up against you or asks to shake your hand because you just know that you'll stick to them in an embarrassing manner.

The one redeeming feature of horrible, hot, humid days like today is that they often lead to satisfying, pleasant warm rain showers that are delightful to stand out in. But no amount of warm rain is really enough to make up for the amount of discomfort that it being way too hot creates.

Hopefully it will be a bit cooler tomorrow. I'd rather not melt, but at this rate I feel like I'm going to.

The post 1989: Temperature of the Sun appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

There's a special kind of unpleasantness about winter, though. As I sit here typing this, the weather outside can probably be best described as sounding "hostile". The wind is blowing, picking up and howling through the streets and alleyways; the rain is falling, drenching everything and turning anything that isn't concreted over into a swampy mire of brown gunge; there's a draught coming in from somewhere around the window that I haven't managed to identify as yet.

Not only that, but we're at that time of year where, assuming you go out to work, you're probably leaving your house when it's dark and not getting back until it's dark either. All in all, it's a fairly bleak time of the year, and it's unsurprising that it puts some people in dark moods.

I'm not sure what changed my outlook. When I was young, I used to quite like winter. I used to enjoy the early darkness and the necessity to carry a torch around — I must confess I still do have an odd liking for wielding a torch, even if it's only an improvised one using my phone's flash — and I used to like wrapping up in layers to be immune to the waves of cold in the air. I used to enjoy the run-up to the Christmas period, complete with village carol singing and the inevitability of being invited in for brandy and mince pies at least once or twice during our nightly tours of the mean streets of Great Gransden. I never used to really notice the bleakness.

So what changed? I wonder. Perhaps it's just the fact that my life is very different to how it was when I was younger; the fact that now, rather than living the carefree life of a child, I have my own responsibilities and anxieties to worry about, including the necessity of getting up and going out — often in horrible weather — to get to work on time, then getting home in often equally horrible weather only to slump down, pretty tired out and not really desirous of doing anything other than something that doesn't require a huge amount of mental activity.

Perhaps I'm just not quite in the rhythm of the full-time job set just yet. I've been doing pretty well, though; I've managed to maintain my routine of getting up earlier than I was, leaving earlier than I was and usually missing the bulk of the traffic of a morning and sometimes in the evening too. This puts me in a somewhat more positive frame of mind, even if the weather is as hostile as it sounds like it is as I type this. There's still that ever-present feeling of tiredness, of slogging on towards some as-yet unknown destination. But that's just how life works for the vast majority of the population; I should probably get used to it.

I have an away-day for work tomorrow. Not really relishing the prospect of having to stay overnight, but at least the accommodation is paid for (albeit in boardings described by one reviewer on TripAdvisor as "like a prison camp, only dirtier") and we're getting fed. And then at the end of this week Andie and I are taking a short break at Center Parcs over in Longleat for her birthday treat. I'm looking forward to that, so I guess there's the objective for this week, if nothing else.

On that note, then, it's time to wrap up warm, snuggle down under the duvet and get some sleep for a horrendously even-earlier-than-the-new-usual start tomorrow morning. Expect a grumpy post from my phone tomorrow evening, and the comics will be back the day after assuming I don't just collapse from exhaustion the moment I get back in.

The post 1758: Those Winter Nights appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I'm currently writing this post on my phone because for some frustrating reason our Internet has gone down. I've rebooted the router several times and it's still not playing with us. I'm not entirely sure why I'm telling you this, but writing a post on my phone like this tends to put me in "stream of consciousness" mode more than anything else. (The WordPress app still doesn't have a word count facility, either, so I just keep banging on until it "feels" about the right length.)

Family Guy is currently on BBC3. I do quite like Family Guy, but the frustrating way about its being broadcast on BBC3 is that whatever dribbling idiot is in charge of the scheduling for that otherwise atrocious station clearly has no idea how to broadcast something in chronological order and without repeating the same episode at least twice a week, sometimes more. These are all repeats anyway, so there's really no need for this repetition, particularly when iPlayer is a thing that exists.

I say I quite like Family Guy, but there is one exception: that fucking episode with Surfin' Bird. It was doubly annoying when it was on recently, because, as mentioned above, it was on twice in one week. I wasn't even watching it and it irritated me. I know that episode is supposed to be irritating, but it just goes much too far in its irritation factor.

Anyway, my concentration is shot right now due to the combination of typing this on my phone, Family Guy on the TV, Andie playing Animal Crossing next to me and the rats playing in their cage at the end of the bed. (We brought them into the bedroom so they could have some company, and also because it's slightly cooler in here; they don't seem to like the heat all that much!)

As such, I'm going to call that a night there. Hopefully our Internetz will be back tomorrow, which will allow me to type something on a proper computer rather than using just my thumbs!

The post 1265: Warmness appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

It is hot. Really hot. I know, I know, it's nothing compared to feeling your brain melt out of your ears in the desert, and nothing compared to what would happen if you couldn't find a nice shady spot on Mercury, but it's still really hot.

Hot weather is widely regarded by people as a positive thing. Everyone gets all excited about the onset of summer and the prospect of sitting out in the garden slowly irradiating yourself to death. But you know what? Balls to that. Hot weather sucks, and I can't wait for it to 1) piss it down with rain and 2) get back to the normal overcast weather for which this country is so well-known.

My feelings on this matter may be partially due to the fact that I got a bit burnt and suffered some mild heatstroke on the wekend — though thankfully nothing compared to the time I went to Gran Canaria for a couple of weeks and came back looking like I'd changed ethnicity (apart from my bum and associated front regions). The weather is just so damn oppressive right now — stepping outside the front door feels like stepping into an airless greenhouse. It's hard to breathe, it's exhausting to do anything and it's just plain unpleasant. And, this being the UK, we're not as enlightened regarding air conditioning as our American cousins, which means going indoors rarely helps very much, either. In fact, at several times over the last few days, it's actually ended up being even hotter indoors (particularly upstairs) than it has been outdoors.

Honestly. I can't wait for it to cool down. It just makes me not want to do anything except sit directly in front of a fan sucking on ice cubes and chugging back anything in a can that has been in a fridge for at least six hours.

Of course, the moment the temperature drops, I'll probably complain that it's too cold, too wet or too something else, so the weather can't win really, unless it's just sort of "nondescript" rather than hot, cold, wet or any combination thereof. Fortunately, as I said previously, the UK is particularly good at weather that is best described as "nondescript". A grey sky, no rain, no snow, no sleet, perhaps a gentle breeze (but not too much) — that's what I can live with.

Perhaps I should move somewhere like Scotland. The weather there seemed to be like that all the time on every occasion I've been there. But then, of course, I'd live in Scotland, which I have nothing against per se, but would somewhat stand in the way of my objective to move back closer to where my friends are.

Perhaps I'll just invent some sort of environmental suit with built-in climate control. That sounds like the ideal solution, really. Now, just to strip the air conditioning unit out of Andie's car while she's not looking…

The post #oneaday Day 920: Zu Heiss appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

It's crazy hot and humid at the minute. Thankfully, as I type this, the weather has deigned to grace us with some rain, which will hopefully eliminate some of the horrible "closeness" that has been plaguing us for about the last week.

You can't really win with regard to weather in this country. It's rarely "just right". It's often either too wet, too hot, too cold, grey and miserable or too humid.

Of course, in actual fact it likely is "just right" more than we realise because you only tend to notice the weather when it's hitting the extremes that are irritating enough to make you question the wisdom of actually leaving your house.

I actually quite like some weather conditions that would traditionally be considered "bad". The rain that it happening right now, for example, is lovely. There are few things nicer than being out in a rainstorm after it's been incredibly hot and humid all day (or, in some cases, all week). It's one of those times when I can be quite happy to just stand outside without any particular "protection" and get absolutely drenched without wanting to run to the nearest shelter as soon as possible. It's even quite nice to run in — though on tonight's run I did manage to get back before the heavens opened.

(As I continue to type this, the rain seems to have stopped. This is disappointing.)

Heat in general, though? I'm not a fan, as I believe I've said a number of times here in the past. I don't really understand the attraction of going on holiday to some place so hot it will literally burn your face off. I still have memories of a trip to Gran Canaria with a school friend and getting so badly burned I was peeling off my skin like a lizard for a couple of weeks afterwards. (When the burns faded, however, I looked like I had changed race, which was quite satisfying, apart from the pasty-white Speedos marks I had. It was enough to make a boy not want to take his pants off, ever — not that I was doing a lot of taking my pants off in public at the age of 12.)

Rain can be a nice relaxing background noise, though. When I ballsed up my body clock completely shortly before leaving Southampton a couple of years ago (how time flies, huh?) I often found comfort by simply listening to the sounds of rain. If it was raining outside, great; if not, I had a nice app for iPhone called Ambiance that could do a fairly convincing impression along with stuff like white noise, city noise and all manner of other sounds. You could even mix sounds together to create the sounds of camping in a rainy wood, or being in a city street in a thunderstorm. Or, indeed, being in a room full of static and wind chimes.

This post has been rather disjointed. I apologise. My brain isn't really working right now as it's quite late and I got back from a run relatively recently but I'm not really tired enough to go to sleep. I'm thinking probably a bit of Quest for Glory before bed, then back to the grindstone tomorrow.

The post #oneaday Day 891: Summer Nights appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

It is officially Hot. The sun has been out all day, and this means that all the world's Hot has been stored up for the whole day and is now being stored in our bedroom making it an unbearable oven almost impossible to sleep in without leaving a noisy fan on all night.

This means that Summer is Here, or something along those lines, anyway.

I have a weird relationship with summer. I've written about this subject in the past, but after 858 previous daily entries, frankly it's sometimes difficult to come up with completely original topics, so I'm going to write about it again. (The last time was in 2010, anyway, so I think I've earned the right to do it again.) I digress. Let me start again.

I have a weird relationship with summer. I like the fact that it's warm and it looks nice outside and you can wear shorts and not put a coat on and whatnot, but I dislike the fact it makes my arse sweaty (apparently my arse contains my body's thermostat, meaning that if I get slightly too hot it's the first place to start sweating) and it can be uncomfortable to sit outside in for too long, particularly if you're prone to burning like I am.

I like the fact that it's socially acceptable to get out a hosepipe (assuming they haven't been banned in your region due to "drought" conditions — and let's not get started on the misuse of that term) and spray it all over yourself on the "mist" setting. Well, okay, maybe not socially acceptable, but certainly understandable.

I like the fact that paddling pools become a viable option in the summer, even for grown adults who should really know better.

I like that you can do normally indoor-type stuff outside (though techie geeks really need to invent a phone/tablet/laptop screen that is actually at all visible in the sunlight and has a faster response time than e-ink displays) and that it's pretty much obligatory to have some sort of iced drink to hand at all times.

I dislike the fact that if you get burned, then everything hurts for days afterwards. Particularly worthy of ire is getting burned on the top of your head, which is enormously uncomfortable and itchy — doubly frustrating for one such as myself who suffers from a perpetually-itchy head.

I dislike the fact that scrawny chavs feel the need to take their shirts off and display their hairless, prepubescent-looking chests to the world while walking around town.

I dislike that you can very easily inadvertently blind yourself with nothing but a phone screen and an unfortunate reflection.

I like that you can get in your car, open all the windows and drive to your destination with fresh air blowing in freely, regardless of what it does to your hair. (My hair inevitably looks stupid, so being windswept has very little effect on my usual appearance.)

I like that it's a good time of year to play Dead or Alive Xtreme 2, not only one of the most perverted non-hentai (well, there's no bonking in it, anyway) games in the world, but also one of the most summery things in existence.

I like the feeling of summer humidity exploding into a heavy rainstorm, and standing out in that warm rain getting drenched.

See? Mixed feelings. I don't do "being Hot" very well, and if I had the choice I'd rather be too cold than too hot. But there's plenty to like about the summer. It's a cheerful time of year, particularly in a country such as this which spends an awful lot of time overcast, raining or both.

As such, I've bought a bike and will be picking it up tomorrow with a view to actually Going Outside when I get the chance. This, then, is doubtless a cue for the sun to disappear for the rest of the year and a torrential deluge of Biblical proportions to begin. Oh well. Good intentions and all that.

What are your favourite and most-despised things about the summer?

(Cue silence. In the past, ending a post with a question has generally been a prompt for there to be no comments whatsoever. But I'm not giving up now, dammit.)

The post #oneaday Day 859: HAWT appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

As I remember it, this has happened for the last few years. As difficult as it may be to think back on my wedding day now, the one thing I do remember is that it was a lovely day, and in October too.

The sun is something of a double-edged sword. Beautiful sunshiney days such as today are lovely to look at and ideal to go and visit outdoor attractions such as the zoo or the gardens of an old stately home (the latter of which we did today). It's nice to be out in the sun, and lying on some green grass in the shade as the bright sunshine warms the air is super-nice.

Problem is, last couple of times I've had a lovely day like that out in the sun I've promptly spent the afternoon and evening suffering with the mother of all headaches thanks to (presumably) mild sunstroke, or possibly brain AIDS. But more likely the sunstroke thing.

Memo to self, then: wear a hat. Supplementary memo to self: buy a hat. Because as a kid you can just about get away with wearing some awful hand me down trucker hat that your parents dredged up from somewhere. But as an adult, wearing an inappropriate hat that doesn't suit you just makes you look a bit special needs.

I've asked for book and music recommendations in the past; I wonder, will the Internet be able to recommend me a hat that doesn't make me look like a dick, a chav or both?

The post #oneaday Day 621: Fun, Fun, Fun in the Sun, Sun, Sun appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.