Category archive: rants

If you send Christmas cards, you are not green because you chop trees.

If you don't send any, you are a miser.

If you send e-cards, you are lazy.

If you don't send charity cards, you don't care at all.

If you print addresses from Outlook onto sticky labels (guilty!), you are lazy and impersonal.

If all you write is your name underneath the printed greetings, you could not care less.

If you include a long update on everything that has happened to you over the last twelve months, you have too much time on your hands and deluded that people actually care.

But if you include a personal wish, a few warm words that are tailor-made for your loved ones, you are a (Christmas) star.

Having said that, any of the cards listed above makes me happy. So email away at lucabelletti@gmail.com! I hear Critter Carols could be this year's Elf Yourself.

Mi vergogno di essere italiano
I am ashamed to be Italian
Literally: 'Myself (I) shame of being Italian'.

[audio:http://www.bitful.com/audio/080125_01.mp3]

An Italian senator who announced he wanted to switch back to support the government (after his party withdrew from the ruling coalition, thereby causing the prime minister to resign and the government to fall), was called a "piece of shit, traitor, cuckold, queer".

Another senator made a hand gesture as if to shoot him, and a colleague called him "wretched poof".

The insulted senator was reportedly spat on, fainted and was carried out of the Senate on a stretcher.

So today's sad Italian lesson is that regardless of their sexuality (I have a hunch that the insulted senator is as straight as they come), queer, faggot and poof are handy words that in 2008 are still perfectly apt to be used at all levels and in all official circumstances to describe your opponents.

• Prodi resigns after losing vote
• Senato, Cusumano annuncia il sì aggredito e offeso anche da An

Non torno spesso in Italia
I don't go back to Italy often
Literally: '(I) not return often in Italy'.

[audio:http://www.bitful.com/audio/080125_02.mp3]

We had to replace our beard trimmer because I dropped it and even after getting a replacement head it does not work properly. As in, it pulls your facial hair instead of trimming it, and often stops half-way through.

I did a little research online and it turns out that the one we have (a Philips QT4045 Turbo Vac Beard Trimmer) was not awarded particularly enthusiastic reviews because the rechargeable battery cannot be replaced, and it does not last forever.

So last night, after coming back with a new trimmer (the same again, there was not much choice in the shop), Dr B. took the old one apart and look what he found inside:

They look like two ordinary rechargeable AA batteries to me. But if they were replaceable the company would be out of business. Instead we are dumping another bit of plastic and metal and nickel-cadmium somewhere we'd rather not think about.

Civilisation as we know it is going to disappear under a mountain of discarded appliances.

WordPress is great. However, upgrading to the latest version can be a bit of a struggle. There are quite a few thinks to keep track of (especially if you are a heavy customiser) and do in the right sequence.

If you have more than one installation, you can spend the best part of an evening doing something that should not be so painful.

That is why a while ago I installed a very promising WordPress plugin called Instant Upgrade. One click to upgrade to the latest version, that's what it promises. At the same time, it states very clearly that you have to give up ownership of files, and set permissions to 777 (read-write-execute), which I am not too keen on.

One word of advice: if you try it, then decide to drop it, you must be very careful to follow a very important procedure instead of the usual 'disactivate-delete files' standard one. You absolutely must follow the instructions via manage > InstantUpgrade and click on Change file modes (so that you have full access to them). This is because once you successfully upgrade once using the plugin, your WordPress files belong to the webserver.

This plugin is a stunning piece of work. Not for control freaks like me though.

From Doris Lessing's Nobel prize acceptance speech:

We are in a fragmenting culture, where our certainties of even a few decades ago are questioned and where it is common for young men and women who have had years of education, to know nothing about the world, to have read nothing, knowing only some speciality or other, for instance, computers.

And all of this because of 'the new internet, which has seduced a whole generation into its inanities'.

Please note that Lessing was too old and ill to make the speech herself and instead had someone else read it out.

Ok, first of all, respect. The woman has a body of work and has achieved what can be considered the highest recognition in literature.

Secondly, that's where I come from too. Absolutely gaga about books since I was four, I was given the fantastic opportunity to choose to study literature.

But hey Doris darling, that's the way the world goes. I was not too happy myself when, in the early Nineties, I found out that my pride and joy, the degree I had moved to London for and worked my butt off to get a first and a distinction, was on the job market just as valuable as a weekend crash course in macrame.

I reinvented myself, never stopped learning new stuff, made a pact with the Evil Internet Overlord to feed my intrinsic curiosity and I now work very happily in software development. And as soon as I can afford it, I am going to enrol in a part-time BSc in computer science.

Never, ever look back, no matter how golden the past may seem to you. Chances are you are idealising it anyway.

Besides, OMG teh title of this post is just 2 funny LOL (by the way, credit goes to whoever captioned the image that illustrates this Techcrunch article on Lessing's lecture).

There's nothing I like on TV these days.

Apart from the fantastic Flight of the Conchords, all saved up on the PVR for a rainy day marathon, all I record now is filler TV, the kind of stuff I play back at 1.5 speed while folding laundry (i.e. Project Runway, The X Factor and Ugly Betty).

Last night I folded laundry while watching The Secret Millionaire, that I had recorded after a hammering multi-media (including Facebook status updates) promotional campaign by Chig.

I shall not go into details in case you want to download it from 4OD or catch the next repeat. Let me just say that Terry George, the millionaire, is a very decent chap.

I managed to fight back the tears throughout the programme, but when it ended the PVR switched back to BBC3 and the All New House of Tiny Tearaways. All new because Dr Tanya Byron is not running it (she has been busy writing Vivienne Vyle with Jennifer Saunders)? Or all new because the latest set of families seeking help with unruly children are teenage pram faces lounging around, fag hanging from pinched lips, effing and blinding and declaring they're bored.

I felt I was watching Big Brother, a show in which I lost interest since they started putting borderline psychos in the house.

That's when I finally cried.

I seem to be unable to travel without electronics to keep me entertained during trips. A what? A 'book', you say? Is it something I can download on my phone?

So when I book seats I try and get one that's got a power outlet for laptops and phones.

Not if you book online, you can't. You can only choose airline, front or back. And even then, you are warned your choice might not be available, and even if it is, you might have to travel the opposite way because the train switched directions.

They might as well write 'Enter the big seat lottery – click here!'.

I booked a front seat, non-airline, and once again I was allocated a non-table backwards-travelling one in an otherwise empty and mostly unreserved carriage.

I have of course scattered my belongings on four available seats around a table, phone plugged in and happily surfing the power-hungry 3G network, my originally reserved seat unoccupied behind me.

It's not as if the data is not there: a few minutes ago I changed my return reservation at the ticket office, explained I needed a power outlet, and was given a 'table – window' seat.

All this data, and still a long way from seamelessly accessing it from anywhere.

You might be aware of Beacon, Facebook's new advertising platform that allows Facebook's partners to place a cookie on your machine when you shop with them, and next time you log on to Facebook you are notified that the retailer is sending a story to your profile that says 'X bought (played, watched, etc.) Y at Z'.

I am not against the idea per se, in fact I'm quite excited about the possibilities. If I bought tickets to the Tangled Up Arena Tour I'd love it to be entered automatically into my events, for all my friends and colleagues to see. OK, bad example here perhaps ;-)

You will not hear my cry out at an invasion of privacy. It is your choice to share some personal details on Facebook. Your choice to add your colleagues as friends. You must be prepared to face the consequence of your actions. Don't come to me crying when your boss totally susses out your lame excuse to skip work.

The problem is that Facebook can't control the way partners use Beacon, and retailers don't always warn you when you shop with them that they are going to place the cookie and send the story to Facebook. You do have the option to refuse the story afterwards, when you log on to Facebook with the same browser, but what if someone else has used your computer, say to buy you a surprise present? Or, heavens forbid, a surprise present for someone else you are not even meant to know about?

If you use Firefox you can just use the BlockSite plugin and enter http://*facebook.com/beacon/* in the input box. Other browsers might not make it so straight-forward but you can still do it.

Of course, you can avoid being on Facebook. Or stop shopping online altogether. And then you'd be the modern equivalent of my dad who stubbornly refused to let anyone in the family watch the second TV channel that launched in the sixties because one channel is just enough, why would anyone want to be able to choose?

UPDATE [30 Nov. 2007]:

'Facebook has just announced that they will be updating their Beacon system. Stories will no longer be published "without a user proactively consenting."'

When I heard Barclays was releasing a three-in-one Credit, Oyster (London transport) and OneTouch (cashless purchases under ten pounds by waving the card on a reader) OnePulse Barclaycard, I was the first in line to get it.

The accompanying leaflet showed the logos of some of the retailers that will be accepting OneTouch payments soon: Books etc., Coffee Republic, Yo! Sushi, Krispy Kreme, Thresher and Eat.

I decided to give it a go on Friday morning, as I was in Paddington station going to Cardiff for work and was as usual too early.

I went to Krispy Kreme, asked if they were equipped for OneTouch payments, was met with a quizzical stare. I left. My blood sugar was safe.

I was glad to see Yo! Sushi was still closed (raw fish in the early A.M.? Gaaah).

I got a coffee and a bottle of water at Eat, went to pay, asked for OneTouch. Yes? No? I showed my card, enquired about the reader, explained how I wanted to pay.

The kind, serviceable, customer-focussed till operator tilted her head, arched her eyebrows and rebutted 'You wanna do wha'?'

The queue was building up behind me. I fished for some coins. I wondered when the future would catch up with me.

I took Tickle's Original Inkblot Test online, to check if the lovely warm results you get are there to make you want to buy the full report.

Guess what? I'm a lovely, lovely person, and I can find out more lovely lovely things about myself if I cough up 8 pound 95 pence. This is what I got:

Your Unconscious Mind Is Most Driven by Peace.

You have a deeply-rooted desire to make peace in the world. Whether through subtle interactions with loved ones, or through getting involved in social causes, it is important to you to be able to influence the world in a positive way. You have a deep respect for humankind.

You care about the future of the world, even beyond your own involvement in it, and you inspire others to feel the same way. Your innate drive toward peace guides you in daily life towards decisions that are respectful toward yourself and others. Your psyche is very rich; the more you learn about it, the more you will understand who you really are…

[via garoo]

Five Reasons Why Web 2.0 People Need to Shut The F**k Up about the Mobile Web,

in reply to

Five Reasons Why The Mobile Web Sucks.

I totally agree with the content (but perhaps not the tone) of the top article. I consume cartloads of mobile content every day (on T-Mobile "unlimited – as long as you do not go over 1GB of content per month in which case we might let you know you're pushing it a bit" tariff). So it does not have all the bells and whistles of the full desktop broadband experience. Get over it.

Did painfully slow 28k modems stop the Internet from developing into what it is today? Did the fact that if you stayed connected for hours nobody could call you (and your phone bill made your parents have a fit) prevent you from finding information and connecting with people. Thankfully not.

Of course, this is only my personal opinion and it is based on how I use the web. Some folks believe that in the halcyon years of yore people knew how to relate to each other in person and oh wasn't it brilliant to find a hand-written letter from a friend waiting for you on your doorstep. Well, I'll take my avalanche of emails and text messages and Facebook pokes and Twitter updates any day over one letter per month (if you were lucky). But again, that's just me and what makes me buzz.

So now I'm told that my mother has been in hospital for a week. Same medical problems she had a few months ago. She is waiting to hear what they think she has this time, hopefully in a few days and not after weeks like last time.

I could not sleep last night, snoozed on the couch for a bit then gave up and had a Studio 60 marathon.

And right now I am about to engage in the most therapeutic of activities: decluttering. The mood I'm in now? I'd get rid of everything and sleep on a mattress on the floor.

Broken glasses with sticky tape, originally uploaded by bitful.

I broke my spectacles one week before going on holiday.

I was due my annual checkup anyway, so I went to have my eyes tested – for free now, because my mother has a glaucoma, my father had diabetes, and I am over forty. Let's say that I'd rather pay and not have a genetic timebomb in me.

Anyway, the old peepers are very well. Still shortsighted, but no change in prescription for five years now. A lovely optician at Boots showed me photos of the back of my eyes, and explained every single line and dot and how neat and crisp they are.

They had a 99 pounds offer for frames including lenses. I tried some, sent a picture to Dr B., then found out they would not be ready in time before my trip.

I also saw exactly the same frame as the one I broke, and they said they could try and fit my old lenses into it, saving me 55 pounds. But again, they'd have to send them off and it would take a while.

So I went to Vision Express, well known for putting together your glasses on site in one hour. Lots of lovely frames, a very cute (and flirting!) assistant. But of course the frames I liked were 149 pounds. Plus lenses (can't remember now, but I think around 60 pounds for both). Plus, they'd have to make special thinner lenses because the ordinary cheap ones are too thick for that frame. Add 40 pounds on top of that. Per lens? For both? Honestly, I can't remember, for at that stage I'd stopped hearing – I have this ability to blank out prices over one hundred pounds: one hundred and two pounds? One million and two pounds? The same to me.

I sighed, I looked up into the salesman piercing blue eyes and said I'd come back. Then I went round the corner and bought a tube of superglue.

This morning at 7.30 I was exactly forty and a half years old.

Which means that that moment on I am closer to being forty-one than I'll ever be to forty again.

Strangely, the thought does not worry me at all. I seem to focus all my worry on how on earth I am going to cope with turning fifty in – oh crap – just under nine and a half years' time!

The very same thing happened when I turned thirty: I could not possibly imagine myself at forty, and frankly dreaded it. Instead here I am, not doing too bad after all.

So what do I know huh?

Don't sneer – not everyone is as web-savvy as you lot.

So yes, these days anyone who's anyone in social media circles is jumping Twitter's ship and moving over to Pownce. It's sort of like Twitter, but with file share (messages, links, files, and events). It's sort of like IM, but you can send files to one person, everyone, or a group of people.

Pownce is currently so hot that even if it's still in private beta, much coveted invitations to join Pownce are being traded on eBay. By the way, I've got six left to give away, and a nice comment here below can earn you one if you are quick. Flattery can get you very far ;-)

Anyway. Back to Twitter (but do read Garoo's review of Pownce if you are interested). Because not everyone is insane enough to waste all day trying out new stuff, and I feel obliged to explain very briefly to the vast majority of people out there what Twitter is and what it is not.

Twitter is a status application. You tell it what you are doing and you have a wide choice of ways to do so:

• typing in a window on Twitter.com, from your computer or mobile phone browser
• by sending a text message to +44 7624 801 423
• by sending an instant message to twitter@twitter.com
• by using a desktop widget for PC or Mac
• from Facebook
• from the address bar in Firefox or Flock

and I'm sure I'm forgetting a few.

People can subscribe to your updates and receive them via text message and/or on their Twitter page and/or IM and or RSS feeds. It's very very easy, idiot-proof I dare say. And that's exactly the beauty of it.

There are several easy ways to display your Twitter updates automatically on your weblog. This is what most of my friends have seen (the now defunct – but you never know, I might put it back – 'Right now I am…'). This, however, is the least useful of Twitter's uses in my opinion.

Twitter is fantastic when you sign up to receive text message update from a close circle of mates. One of them is in town, sends a message to Twitter saying 'Anyone near Soho for a cheeky pint?' and if you are, you reply.

Twitter is very very good when you get a connection with other people, mostly unknown, who touch your life for a fraction of a second from across the continents or round the corner.

Twitter is a bit crap some days when all you get is people bragging about who they've met and where they've eaten and how many iPhones they snatched after queuing for three days. But then again, you can just ignore that or unsubscribe from receiving their updates. That's the beauty of the river of data that flows around us every day: you just pick what you want and trust software to filter out what does not interest you.

Me? Gosh, I don't know. I use Twitter inconstantly (and I'm still a newbie on Pownce) to shout out about something I'm doing that I want to share, no matter who listens.

Worringly, however, more often than not it's just to say I'm eating. At least now with Pownce, I can send photos of my food too.

My del.icio.us tags are getting a bit out of control, so I tried using Matt Biddulph's stem identifier, but my bookmark thows a 503.

I did a quick search and I could only find The Amazing del.icio.us Stemmer, suitably renamed by the author The Broken del.icio.us Stemmer.

If you have any suggestions, the comment box (or my email inbox) are all yours. Thank you in advance.

And now, back to del.icio.us 'rename' page, which to be honest does the job – one bloody drop-down-selected tag at a time…

So last night I upgraded iTunes to v. 7.3 (the iPhone update). Why I did that, is totally beyond me (I'm very happy with my Windows Mobile thank you very much).

Anyway, I thought, new version, always good practice to update… Although, working in software product development myself, I should have known that sometimes it is best to wait a bit and wait for teething problems to be sorted out (by someone else possibly).

Right, new version then. And Outlook (2002 running on Vista) would not start. Searched for solutions, repaired .pst files, created a new profile. No sweetness there.

Restored system to the point before the iTunes update. Works a treat now. Hmmm.

I could reinstall iTunes 7.3 to double check and be absolutely sure that it was the culprit. But, frankly, I've got better things with my early Saturday morning.

UPDATE: iTunes would not start (missing files or something) so I had to reinstall it. And now I cannot start Outlook. I guess now I'm sure that's what's wrong. About to do another system restore then try to install a previous version of iTunes. Grrr.

The BBC News website has recently introduced a new section entitled 'Also in the news…' where odd, weird and bizarre items from across the website are displayed together.

I found out the hard way, because Also in the news has replaced Entertainment as the last section in the BBC News website left hand side navigation (which I check to scan headlines, but not often enough to make me want to subscribe to the Entertainment feed). So now if I click without reading, I end up instead on a lovely collection of stories such as:

• India rattled by vibrating condom
  A vibrating condom has sparked a fierce debate in India, over whether it is a sex toy – which are banned – or a means of birth control.
• Snake bursts after gobbling gator
  An unusual clash between a 6-foot (1.8m) alligator and a 13-foot (3.9m) python has left two of the deadliest predators dead in Florida's swamps.
• Sudan man forced to 'marry' goat
  A Sudanese man has been forced to take a goat as his "wife", after he was caught having sex with the animal.

Mind you, it beats reading about this week's Britney wig colour.

On the way home tonight (two tubes, one person under a train, a bus and a short walk) I clicked on a URL in an email on my phone to read a friend's message on Facebook, and the T-Mobile nanny informed me that

Content Lock has barred this service because this site is rated 18. If you are over 18, you can access this site and others like it if you register to remove Content Lock.

You can remove Content Lock by registering using a credit card, T-Mobile will check your card is valid by applying a charge of £2 and then recrediting this amount immediately.

And so I did (when I got home, not in the street – I had a hunch my friend's message was not that important, and it did turn out to be a disappointingly disinterested 'How's Dr B.?' question) not without asking myself: 'Why two pounds? Why not a 'charge' of zero pounds like others do just to verify the validity of a card?

Maybe you only allowed to have over two pounds in funds on your credit card account if you are over 18. Bottle of Coke plus KitKat plus crisps = 1.99?

A few statements (I'd say facts, but I have no means to verify them) from the article Revealed: Why prices are rising faster in rip-off UK (thisislondon.co.uk, 30 May 2007):

"British consumers are suffering the biggest increases in food prices and energy bills of any major economy"

"Tesco and Asda have claimed that poor harvests and rising raw material costs are forcing them to jack up some prices. But critics say this is a worldwide problem"

"supermarkets may be finding it easier to 'exploit their monopoly position and raise prices'."

"Four companies control 75 per cent of grocery sales in the UK."

"The Competition Commission is conducting an inquiry into whether UK food shopping is too concentrated in the hands of a few powerful players."

I'm this close to growing my own vegetables on the window sill and keeping a cow and a couple of hens in the spare room. But I have to be practical (and realistic) and put up with this. After all, convenience comes at a price.

Ten days ago I watched the BBC's undercover investigation on lack of basic hygiene in supermarkets.

For the last ten days I have been living on hard-boiled eggs, canned tuna, rolled oats, and assorted fruit and vegetables. Anything with the least amount of human filth added to it.

I can now button up my skinny jeans. Without having to lie on the floor, thank you very much.

I have also protected the programme on the DVR so that I do not erase it by mistake, in case I need a reminder (beach in 7 days, you see).

I have always enjoyed the convenience of supermarket food. However, I have lately started reading labels a bit more thoroughly than just the calories content, and I did not like what I saw.

The other night I got stuck in watching Whistleblower on BBC1 against my better judgement:

For six months, two BBC reporters worked undercover to investigate health and safety issues around food in some of Britain's supermarkets. They find produce beyond its shelf life that's re-labelled and put back on fresh food counters.

Like, we did not already know?

The programme only confirmed what I have always suspected:

• falsified temperature logs, both for freezers and for core temperature of roast chicken
• bin bags used to cover meat nightly – and reused for a whole week
• rats in an area where goods are temporarily stored upon delivery
• knives and chopping boards casually mixed (raw/cooked meat/fish)
• 'best before' and 'sell by' dates regularly extended once they expire

A company that supplies leading supermarkets with ready made meals had a vat of onion bajii mix A bucket was dipped regularly into it to pick up the mix and feed it into a machine. The bucket that previously was on the floor. The very same floor that employees walked on after having visited filthy toilets (in a state I've only ever seen in clubs at around 5am) WITHOUT CHANGING THEIR BOOTS OR WASHING THEIR HANDS AFTERWARDS.

Throughout the programme, it was clear that people were instructed to throw away food and observe strict hygiene rules, but either did not have the time to do so because they were understaffed, or could not afford to do so because they had to meet strict performance targets.

Last year Tesco's profits alone were in excess of two billion pounds.

After what has been known as 'The Mika Incident' (I wowed the album for all of three days, then grew so tired of its repetitive songs and Scissor Sisters rip-off that even a fleeting glimpse of Mr Penniman's bouncy curls made me jump with all my weight on the 'Skip' button), I swore that I would never again acquire music solely on grounds of the artist being gay (which, incidentally, Mika has never said he was, claiming that it does not matter).

Well, guess what? Mika is right. It does not matter.

And yet, I fell for it again. Enter 24-year-old openly gay Chris Garneau. A role model. Too bad his album is absolutely not my cup of tea at all. Whispered piano ballads, one after the other, no less than fourteen of them. Turns out the only thing we have in common is our sexual orientation.

The other night while I was preparing dinner I made a point of listening to his whole album, out of respect. After all, the young man has released a record, whereas it's a major event if I manage to win my laziness long enough to post two days in a row here.

By song four I was contemplating using the kitchen knife for a much less culinary purpose than chopping tomatoes.

By song eight even Anthony and the Johnsons sounded thigh-slapping ha-ha funny in comparison.

I struggled to get to the end and I finally had to stop the last song half way through because I heard Dr B.'s key in the lock and I did not want him to think that I was killing dinner with my own bare hands (instead of simply frying it).

And by the way, those tomatoes? Imported by Tesco from 'sunny' Poland. Go figure.

We are in the middle of British Sandwich Week 2007.

Unfortunately, we are also in the middle of our 'ZOMFG we only have three weeks to squeeze back into last year's swimsuits' week. There's no way I'm buying a larger size. I mean, my trunks were loose last year!

I know a sandwich can be a very healthy and nutritious meal with little calories and low fat.

However, you will beg to differ too if you had ever witnessed me transform a 400g pack of sliced bread, one of cheese singles and ten slices of ham into five sandwiches with the same ease a professional dealer shuffles a deck of cards – and then make them disappear into thin air in a matter of seconds.

[stares dreamily into the distance]

Right, we were saying? Ah, yes: trunks, diet.

:-(

My 2p on the Eurovision Song Contest, for decades cherished as a solitary guilty pleasure, for a bit enjoyed with like-minded lovers of all things camp, and this year forcing myself to listen to all forty-two dreary songs and watch it for old times' sake.

I feel very sorry for Malta. They want to win so badly they more often than not look desperate. 'On Again, Off Again', anyone? My point precisely. So when I heard this year's entry I could not help but notice that they'd trown in all the elements they thought would make a winner: a slow start, some violins, an up-tempo song, a break in the middle, key change, flamenco bits, arabian harmonies, sung in English.

I did not see the semifinal in which they failed to qualify, but saw a recorded bit in the end whey they show a few seconds of each song, and in addition to all the above elements Malta also managed to throw in topless male dancers, singer Olivia Lewis wearing lots of makeup and a long evening dress with a slit, some fan-waving and… a gong! The singer's kitchen sink was mercifully left at home in her beautiful island that I really would not mind visiting again soon (I went twice in the Eighties and it was absolutely spectacular).

In the end, the contest was won by a soberly dressed butch lesbian in a man's suit. The backing singers' were so buttoned up that the only flesh they flashed was from their peep-toe shoes. The song was a ballad. It was sung in Serbo-Croat.

I hear Malta is in talks with k.d. lang to represent it next year.

Tomorrow Italian catholic groups are staging a national rally against civil partnerships and in support of traditional families.

That is, if you have not got a mummy and a daddy (or have more than one), or if you happen to shack up with someone of the same sex, you are made to feel like scum.

I cleverly booked my flight to leave and go back home tomorrow. I hate feeling not welcome.

I've been in Italy for the last few days to see my mother who is in hospital.

It is very hard to say whether it is serious or not; she had been losing a considerable amount of blood through her faeces and was taken into hospital to receive some blood transfusions and to undergo a series of tests.

The hospital is new, clean and more than adequately staffed. The doctors sound competent and are very thorough. They think they might have found some trivial skin growth near her 72-year-old appendix scar that could be the origin if the bleeding, but they need more tests to confirm.

Unfortunately, for some reason to us unknown, the tests are performed one week apart. This means that today is the start of her fourth week in hospital.

And because she only just had cataract surgery, she cannot read, do crosswords or crochet, so all she does all day is lie in semi-darkness, pray, and drink pint after pint of water to prepare her bowels for another test.

Her rosary beads – and her patience – are by now nearly worn out.

A few weeks ago I got into the habit of picking up a Del Monte ice smoothie on the way to work every morning. The perfect refreshment after a stifling tube journey.

'Only 96 calories', it says on the packaging, as well as 'No artificial colours, flavours, preservatives or sweeteners'. Well, they had me at '96 calories'.

Then last week I looked at the ingredients.

Water, Raspberry Puree (25%), Sugar, Glucose Syrup, Blackcurrant Puree (3.7%), Lemon and Lime Juice from Concentrate (3.2%), Colour (Anthocyanins, Beetroot Red, Curcumin), Stabilisers (Methyl Cellulose, Guar Gum, Locust Bean Gum, Carboxy Methyl Cellulose, Pectin, Sodium Alginate), Citric Acid, Natural Raspberry Flavouring.

I consulted Dr B. (who is a Doctor in Chemistry) and he confirmed that none of the colours, flavours, preservatives or sweeteners above are artificial.

However, one may notice that the packaging does not claim 'no artificial stabilisers', and I am not totally sure that Methyl Cellulose and Carboxy Methyl Cellulose are the most natural ingredients you can find.

And even if Mr Del Monte himself came to see me and convinced me that not a single ingredient is artificial, I would still not trust a product that lists 17 individual ingredients.

So now I have a banana instead.

I always happily give away any pretense of privacy and let people access my data for a quid or two.

It is therefore hardly surprising that I always, always use my Tesco ClubCard, even when I but a stick of chewing-gum at a gas station. Then, every three months Tesco points turn up on my doorstep as vouchers that give me money off on next purchases (1 penny for each pound spent, I think).

In return, I let Tesco know exactly how many sheets of toilet paper I use every time I wipe my butt. Seriously, this should give Tesco enough information to fire off some powerful algorithms to lure me into buying more stuff by presenting me with offers I cannot refuse.

However, I would recommend they add something that says

'IF

> 75% of items purchased

=

skimmed
low-fat
fat free
diet
light
extra-light
super-light

THEN

do not send the chap a voucher that
offers 100 extra points when you buy
Nuts or Loaded magazine'.

'cause you see, T&A? Not much popular round here, no.

I have been running Windows Vista Home Premium for a couple of months now, and the biggest annoyance is that it refuses to retain your email account password(s) if you are using Outlook 2002.

Windows claims you need to enter your email account passwords every time because of security reasons. I say they do it to make you upgrade to Outlook 2007. Fair enough. These are people who do business.

However, this snag annoyed me so much that, short of keeping my machine on 24/7 so that I would not have to ever restart Outlook, I downloaded AutoHotkey and followed the instructions to create an exe file that starts Outlook and insert the password(s) for you.

The software encripts the passwords and the text file where you enter them in the first place must be destroyed.

So there you go, once again a feature in Vista that was designed for enhanced protection has triggered a potentially unsafe behaviour. Well done guys – I am this much closer to switching to Thunderbird now!