Last Thursday 14th August I drove to IKEA to buy a desk for our new LAMP Developer Damien Gaillard. I stopped outside the Nationwide’s hole in the wall to withdraw my customary few pence, but there was a queue, so I used the ATM outside the Abbey next door instead. I put in my card and punched in my PIN number. Nothing happened. The screen said “Welcome. Please insert your card.” A man with a foreign accent (there is no other in Green Lanes) came up behind me and said “Don’t put card in that machine. It not working.” Another man rushed up and said something broadly similar. I began to suspect a scam, so I stayed by the machine, which still had my card. But the screen was saying “Insert your Card”. There was no sign of my card being returned. I lingered by the machine irresolutely for a minute; the men had vanished (I think —  I’m not at all observant) and a small and mildly hostile queue had gathered waiting to use the cash machine. “It doesn’t work!” I yelled at the uncomprehending line.

I went into the Abbey and told the counter staff their machine had swallowed my card.  They could not have been less interested. “You’ll get it back in a few days,” they muttered laconically.”But I need the money now!” I protested. “It’s the fault of YOUR machine!” The manager appeared. I grabbed him and hauled him off to the Nationwide next door. I wasn’t particularly concerned for my card, because I assumed it was buried safely in the bowels of the Abbey’s ATM. Together with the Abbey’s manager, I explained my plight to the woman at the counter in the Nationwide. “I need to withdraw some money. Oh, and I’d better cancel my debit card so you can send me a new one.” After checking my ID she let me withdraw some cash and I signed a piece of paper cancelling my debit card.

Freshly recharged with cash, I went off and bought Damien’s desk. On Tuesday my replacement card arrived. Yesterday I used it to withdraw money. No problems.

Today I went on to the Nationwide on-line banking site to pay my credit card bill — my monthly visit —  and discovered that on August 14th as well as the meagre amount I’d withdrawn over the counter, I’d been hosed down for £300.

THREE HUNDRED POUNDS.  That may not be a lot to most people, but to a humble fotoLibrarian it’s a fortune. It’s the maximum you can withdraw in a day, and it also happened to be all I had in my account. I rang the Nationwide and they confirmed the money had been withdrawn from the Bank of Ireland, not the Abbey, but they didn’t (couldn’t?) tell me at what time or where?

How did the thieves get my card out of the Abbey machine? How did they capture my PIN number? Why were the Abbey staff so unconcerned? (though the manager did come with me to the Nationwide).

Why me?

And I’ve been struggling since November last year to get back £41.04 from O2 Carphone Warehouse. I’ve even resorted to writing to the MD Charles Dunstone, who simply ignores my letters, which is unforgivably rude for a man at the helm of a public company, and his ratbag of a company has appointed a debt collection agency to chase me, claiming that I owe THEM money for a monthly rental since January for a phone contract I cancelled the previous November. It is irritating beyond belief, and very very debilitating.

These little things really wear one down.

I’ve just come across this riveting software program called Delicious Library 2, and I’m totally, completely hooked.

You hold up a book to your computer, and within 5 seconds the book jacket, the blurb, the tech spec including publisher, ISBN, price, format, reviews, other reader comments and recommendations for further reading simply appear on the screen.  What’s more the graphics are fun — the books are sorted by author and displayed on wooden ‘shelves’, with tabs below for Synopsis, Details, Reviews and Recommendations.

So last night I sat in front of the computer with a pile of my books and fed them in. It handled about 12 a minute. So clever! Then it ran out, because the trial version is limited to 30 inputs. Fair enough.

I think I’ve got about 4,000 books in the house, so that’s my rainy days sorted. Everyone else has probably known about this program for years, but I’ve only just discovered it. Why didn’t you tell me?

Once everything else had been invented, the program was simple and obvious — it’s just that somebody had to think of it. That’s not unlike the gestation of fotolibra.

You just need a computer with a videocam and broadband. The camera built in to the computer acts as the scanner. It reads the book’s barcode, queries 6 databases (obviously Amazon, among others) and immediately delivers the results to the screen.

Ingenious, smart and useful. At last I can catalogue my library. The only downside is the weird disembodied voice that says “Follies Grotto-eez and Garden Buildings by Gwine Heedley and Wim Mimmelkimp”. Maybe I can turn it off. Another fascinating infosnip is it gives the current secondhand price for each item — a surprising $88 for FG&GB. Anyone want a signed copy for $50?

They want $40 for the program. What the hell. That’s only £20; I can pay that. There’s a trial version on the cover CD for the September Macworld.

This is how the makers describe their own program:
“When we demo Delicious Library to people, about ⅔ of them instantly say this:
“Wait, I just hold a CD or DVD or video game or book or whatever up to my webcam, and it magically reads the UPC and downloads that item’s cover and all pertinent information about it, and displays all my stuff on photorealistic shelves? I’ll take it! Right now! This is why I bought a computer in the first place! ”

But a few people are skeptical, or slightly less obsessive. “Ok,” they say, “then I have my stuff in my computer. Big whoop. I can just look at my real shelf, right now, for free.”

And we say, “True, but have you ever had someone break in and steal all your CDs or DVDs? Your insurance company wants an exact list of what you had, but you can’t remember every last thing, and so for years afterwards you think, ‘Drat, I forgot to list Rocky Horror Picture Show, and now it’s too late!’ Well, with Delicious Library you always have a complete inventory of your stuff, with replacement costs. You can print it or back it up to the web, so it’s not going anywhere.

“Or, have you ever loaned a book or DVD or $200 DeWalt Cordless Driver to a friend, and forgotten which friend? And then bought another? With Delicious Library you just drag any item onto any friend from your Address Book, and it’ll remember the loan for you — and even put an entry in iCal reminding you when it’s due. Or maybe you have something lying around you don’t use, like an out-of-print book, that’s worth serious bucks and you don’t know it? Because with Delicious Library 2 you always know the current value of your things, and can put your used items up for sale with three clicks. Or maybe you just want to publish your library to the web and share it with your friends…”

At this point, usually the only people who aren’t buying are the ones who don’t own Macs. To them, we say: we’re sorry. For the rest of you… enjoy.”

I totally concur.

http://www.delicious-monster.com/

Dogs, specifically. My old pal Chris Holmes (haven’t seen him for 20 years) is a professional blogger holed up in Corfu, poor sod, and has just acquired a new mutt which he hopes to call Argos if his mama so permits.

Mama, being inconceivably grand, will not have heard of the cheap as chips catalogue store in the UK which prevents any classically educated bod calling their dog Argos. Might as well call it Woolies or Primark.

Which reminds of a lady I heard on the radio a while back, who was saying “I had a lovely cheap holiday, I had two weeks in Iceland. You should try it; there’s one in Wood Green.” I would certainly credit her if I could remember her name.

Von chose to call GR3 Milo. Now Milo is a fine, inoffensive name for a golden retriever. Even pet names mutate, and he gets called Milometer when we’re out for a walk and Milosevic when he is unspeakably evil.

When we signed up for puppy training class there was another golden retriever, one year old, called Milo. Then a spaniel puppy arrived last week, called Milo.  There’s A Lot Of It Going About.

On Tuesday we had dinner with Roger and Angèle. A fun evening, destroyed later by our Milo choking to a slow, agonising, noisy and vomit-spattered death between 2am and 9am. There were faint signs of life when we got him to the vet at 9 who instantly diagnosed Kennel Cough (There’s A Lot Of It Going About), and he’s now absolutely fine. I managed to catch one hour’s sleep in 48 hours.

Thinking of Milosevic and the appointment of Kevin Pietersen (born 27 June (my father’s birthday) 1980 in Pietermaritzburg, South Africa) as England cricket captain against South Africa — would we have appointed a Serbian general to lead the British contingent in the Balkan conflict?

Check out Corfucious if you want to watch a master blogger at work.

Since 1920 we’ve let out our house in Harlech for summer holidays. We shouldn’t be the only ones to enjoy the best view in Britain.

On April 29th I got the following email. Compare it with the one that follows:

Cottage Reference: waa403/1
Enquirer’s name: Paul Markson
Email: Paul.markson@hotmail.com
Telephone: +001
Address :-
Canada.

Message :-
Greeting,
Its very not that easy to look for a weekly holidays over the net,i have take a closer look at your property which i saw in Europ Holidays web site, well i guess its will be more O.K if i write you to know about the property in details.
Checking in date will be August 01 2008.
Checking out date will be August 20th  2008.
Or alternativly if its will not be possible for the 4 weeks rentals we can as well start the rentals right from
Checking in date will be Sep 01 08.
Checking Out will be Se 31 08 .
its will be either four weeks  rentals or alternativly 4 weeks rentals,for the details about the property.
Firstly about the Locations of the property.
Secondly The cost for the Rental for the choosing dates total price needed for the dates choosen rentals.
Thirdly we required for discount for the cost of the rental.
Its shuold not be a problem using a personal Brand New Pc?,We just got married some couple of months ago,so we felt we shuold relocate for three weeks to four weeks ,Am from California and my wife is right from Canada Richmond,i will expect to have your answer.Let me have the total amount for the rentals.
Peter &Wife Anna.

The property was already booked, so I refused the booking. But he kept on trying to get a discount on the price, which I don’t do. I eventually ignored him.

This morning I got this:

Cottage Reference: waa403/1
Enquirer’s name: Mr Claude Fat
Email: Claude_Fat90@yahoo.com
Telephone: +33
Address :-

Message :-
Greeting,
Its very not that easy to look for a weekly holidays over the net, I have take a closer look at your property which I saw in Great Britain web site, well I guess its will be more O.K if i write you to know about the property in details.
Checking in date will be Oct 01 2008.
Checking out date will be Oct 20th 2008.
Or alternatively if its will not be possible for the 2 weeks rentals we can as well start the rentals right from
Checking in date will be Nov 01 08.
Checking Out will be Nov 20 08.
its will be either two weeks  rentals or alternatively 4 weeks rentals, for the details about the property.
Firstly about the Locations of the property.
Secondly The cost for the Rental for the choosing dates total price needed for the dates chosen rentals.
Thirdly we required for discount for the cost of the rental.
Its should not be a problem using a personal Brand New Pc?,We just got married some couple of months ago, so we felt we should relocate for three weeks to four weeks ,Am from France and my wife is right from Germany Berlin will expect to have your answer. Let me have the total amount for the rentals.
Claude Fat.
Note sorry for the bad english (Funny)..

It rang a vague bell, so I simply replied saying we were booked. The email bounced back, saying ” <Claude_Fat90@yahoo.com>: host f.mx.mail.yahoo.com[68.142.202.247] said: 554 delivery error: dd This user doesn’t have a yahoo.com account”

I then looked back through my emails and found the earlier almost identical one from “Paul Markson”.

What’s going on here? I’m sure I won’t be the only person to have got these messages. The problem is I can’t figure out what the scam they’re trying to work is.

Any ideas?

I love the Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition. It’s a sort of Open Access for artists, “the RA goes fotoLibra.” And there is conventional, understandable art as well as some more, shall we say, recherché work.

In fact the more I look at the wilder excesses of the art world the more I fret about my homely, suburban, conventional taste. A clip on BBC Breakfast TV this morning showed Von and me looking bored in front of the (non-working) shagging zebra — I think it’s called “In The Old Fashioned Way” — in the Tracy Emin-curated Room VIII, designed to SHOCK. But I’m so cynical nowadays that nothing shocks me any more, except perhaps the prices the artists are attempting to charge. Most of the stuff in Tracy’s room wasn’t for sale, but have a look at this:

London Derrière by Allen Jones RA, yours for £70,500. Surely only Tory MPs could afford or want this?

I did enjoy Michael Craig-Martin’s works “Lust” and “Death”, unpriced but certainly more than I could afford:

and with the enjoyment of a child attempting to decipher a picture puzzle I found a fire extinguisher, metronome, glove, umbrella and drawer. What does it mean? Haven’t a clue.

His “Self-Portrait” was highly ingenious, a line and tone image on an LCD monitor which when I turned back to it after 5 minutes had imperceptibly changed colour and carried on doing so presumably at random and ad infinitum.

The Small Weston Room was packed wainscot to ceiling with tiny paintings. Next to the Architecture room, this was where I felt most comfortable. In my dim, middle class, middlebrow way I remain impressed by people who have mastered their craft, and are not afraid to show it. I wouldn’t mind an introduction to Nicholas Granger-Taylor’s model “Lucile”, either (£11,000 to you).

Some of the paintings here approached affordability. Several were under £1,ooo. But the Summer Exhibition is not simply a selling show; it’s an annual slice through Britain’s artistic life. Admittedly to my mind the Refusés have taken over the Salle, but it shows that conventional painting is not dead yet.

And if I could walk away with one piece? It would be the stainless steel ping-pong table by Ron Arad.

Not For Sale.

Every Saturday morning I like to lie long in bed, listening to Brian Matthew’s Radio 2 programme ‘Sounds of the Sixties’. It’s an age thing, I guess, but I think you’ll always love the music you grew up with.

And how I grew up! To be young was very heaven, as the poet saith. England in the sixties was the centre of the universe, London was earthquakingly cool, and Chelsea was its epicentre.

Where was I living in my teens and twenties? Chelsea, of course; not the rich, bloated Arab mega-wealth Chelsea of today, but (excuse me lapsing into historical dialect here) the hippest, funkiest, fabbest, grooviest place on the planet.

The King’s Road. Where I knocked down Rudolf Nureyev in my dad’s ‘56 Chevy (he was more shaken than hurt, but he had looked the wrong way stepping off the pavement).

Sloane Square, where I charged round a corner and bowled over a tiny little black woman. I helped Diana Ross to her feet.

And Sloane Square of course gave us the name for our group. The Sloane Squares. Everyone had to be in a group in the sixties, and where better to be based than in Chelsea, the capital of cool.

OK, so we were crap. We were no more than a covers band. The few songs we attempted to write were laughably amateur, in the bad sense of the word. But of course we were THE Chelsea group, and any act who came to play in Chelsea got us as their support band.

John Lee Hooker was the first. We’d turned the crypt of the Catholic Church in Cheyne Walk into a ‘night club’ called The Mechanical Orange (how far out was that?) and persuaded big names to come and play.

In other venues we supported other acts. Pink Floyd, Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, The Creation, Peter Frampton’s Herd, the Small Faces and many more now forgotten or unremembered.

The Faces had been manufactured and backed with a lot of bread — they looked great, but they’d only learned one song and simply couldn’t play their fabulously expensive instruments. I showed Steve Marriott the fingering for the D chord (I’m not a great guitarist but I do know all 5 chords) and he was blown away. He’d stuck mirrors on the glorious patina of the soundboard of his thousand pound Gretsch so he could ‘mak show’ as the Beatles described it. I thought it was sacrilege. He didn’t. He went on to fame and fortune. I didn’t.

Although we were no musicians, we probably got the bookings because of the way we looked. The other guys in the group were good-looking lads. Lloyd Powell on drums, Nigel Hill on bass, Cuthbert Fry on rhythm, Fred Taylor on vocals and harmonica, me on lead — and we rocked. And we were loud. VERY LOUD.

We also were only group in the area with a travelling gang of bodyguards. There was always a fight everywhere we played. If there wasn’t, our bodyguards would start one. More of that some other time.

We thought it was a disaster when Fred left to become a chef. For a while we tried to hack it as a four piece, but we were even worse than before.

Then we met up with Pete Gage, another Chelsea lad. Fred had a good rocking raucous voice, but Pete’s voice verged on greatness. He was a belter, a sort of high-class Chris Farlowe. Suddenly we were getting important bookings. He couldn’t play harmonica and we needed some extra sound, so we drafted in a guy called Dante Smith on keyboards. We were becoming quite a formidable act.

The Sloane Squares, Chelsea, 1966
L to R: Lloyd Powell, Nigel Hill, Gwyn Headley, Cuthbert Fry, Pete Gage
Photo copyright Andrew Lanyon / fotoLibra

In the audience one night was Jet Harris, the former bass guitarist of The Shadows. After the show he came round and bought us drinks. Many drinks. Several times. He drank spirits. I was so impressed. He had so much money. The rounds were always on him. Eventually he started talking about a record.

And that’s what catapulted me out of bed this morning. On the Sounds of the Sixties, Brian Matthew announced ‘My Lady’ by Jet Harris. That was us! Pete Gage (never credited) on vocals, Jet on bass guitar, #28 on the Radio London Hot 40, #1 in Denmark (allegedly). World’s shortest lead guitar solo. It was an awful song, a very lame attempt by Reg Presley of the Troggs, and the B side, written by Jerry Lordan and titled ‘You Don’t Live Twice’, was a far better tune.

Well, well. I hadn’t heard it in years. I long ago lost the only copies I had.

If you want to hear it in all its glory and faux Joe Meek climax, you can, for the next week. Click here to listen to Brian’s show on BBC Radio 2. ‘My Lady’ comes up after about 50 minutes.

It’s truly terrible. But it brings back a lot of memories.

So Pete had clearly hit the big time, and some of the rest of us felt we really ought to be getting jobs, thus the Sloane Squares drifted apart. The last I heard of Pete he had taken over from Lee Brilleaux as lead singer of Dr. Feelgood.

We had a reunion ten years ago, with Fred, not Pete, and we were GREAT!

Yet another update. Before Von named him Milo, this little hound from hell was codenamed GR3, as he is our 3rd golden retriever. GR1 was Lucca, who died of a heart attack aged 4. GR2 was Padi, who died aged nearly 16 last November. They are both loved and lamented.

Now we have Milo, GR3, a bundle of fluff and needle-sharp teeth.

And I’m pleased that this week has seen the arrival of GR3.1, the updated version that doesn’t pee and crap on the drawing room carpet.

Among the many improvements featured in version 3.1 are:

• Stays dry overnight
• Sleeps through the night
• Looks guilty before attempting to steal the cats’ food
• Comes immediately when ‘Bwyd’ (Welsh for Food) is called
• Loves everyone
• Loves marrowbones more
• Has figured out how to use catflap

Here is a list of bugs to be sorted out, with current workarounds:

• Vapourware emitter (do not squeeze too tightly)
• Hiccups (restrict upload speed)
• Chews everything (remove shoelaces)
• System will occasionally crash and revert to version 3.0, detectable by puddles in the hall (transfer to exterior environment immediately following each upload)
• Shrill high-pitched incessant over-excited yapping will be replaced by steady, dignified, sonorous, deep bark in v.3.2. (system needs bedding in)
• Does not always respond to his name unless food is involved (involve food)
• Catflap facility will not be available in v.3.2 due to increased size of application (bloatware is inevitable)

He’s a good-natured little soul. The way he chews my ear when I carry him down to the garden in the morning catches my heart. It may not be to everyone’s taste, but he is so sweet it turns my knees to honey.

What he could have written:

“He came to the task of government in his mid-fifties with excellent and unrivalled credentials. But his character was dour and introspective, with more than a touch of melacholia and insecurity. Above all, he lacked the consummate political adroitness of Blair. Men could never be quite sure what was going on in Brown’s mind. This led to the view that he was a hypocrite; in fact this stemmed from the system which he inherited, the product of the great illusionist Blair.”

What he did write:

“He came to the task of government in his mid-fifties with excellent and unrivalled credentials. But his character was dour and introspective, with more than a touch of melacholia and insecurity. Above all, he lacked the consummate political adroitness of Augustus. Men could never be quite sure what was going on in Tiberius’s mind. This led to the view that he was a hypocrite; in fact this stemmed from the system which he inherited, the product of the great illusionist Augustus.”

From The Oxford History of the Roman World; David Stockton writing about the Roman emperor Tiberius.

Like God, I am older than Israel.

OK, here’s the threatened update.

He is, as everybody agrees, the most beautiful and charming puppy you could hope to see. When he’s asleep.

Of course when he’s awake it’s a completely different state of affairs. Dr. Demento, The Thing From Outer Space, the Spawn of the Devil, Evil Incarnate, That Damned Dog, ChewEverything, Pluto The Dog of the Underworld — he has any number of aliases.

It’s always the same result. You, or your shoelaces, or the Aubusson, or the wistaria, or the formerly budding James Grieve, or anything within reach, will get chewed.

He met Josh Robson, aged 6 months, on Sunday, the first time Milo had seen a baby. Curious, and presumably tasty, so Josh’s hand got chewed. Josh didn’t seem to mind too much.

Yesterday he met Nathaniel Ellis, aged two-and-a-half, the first time Milo had seen a toddler. Curious, and presumably tasty, so Nathaniel got chewed all over. His teeth (Milo, not Nathaniel) are like little needles, so Nathaniel quite naturally objected. Milo countered by going to sleep, thus winning the ‘Ahh, isn’t he cute?’ battle.

He is tremendously energetic for 30 minutes. He’ll then have a meditative chew on any loose part of me that happens to be within reach, failing that, my socks, trousers, jacket, whatever.

He’s not as keen on his food as Padi was when he was a pup, but he has eaten most of the garden, including rhubarb leaves and a castor oil plant. I’m amazed he’s still alive.

And as you can see, it is very difficult to take good photographs of puppies. My admiration for fotoLibra members knows no bounds.