life, liberty and the pursuit of geekiness

Why is it that estate agents seem to be incapable of writing English, but instead produce pamphlets full of their own weird jargon?

First of all, the thing they are selling is always a 'home'. Not a house, a home. Sometimes it's a 'comfortable family home', but the horror can increase, as sometimes it's a 'prestigious home' or a 'unique home', or worse yet, an 'almost unique home'.

Then there's the main body, so to speak, of the copy. Usually it's semi-literate, with the most basic errors of spelling, punctuation and grammar. The thing to remember about this part is to take it with a liberal amount of salt.

For example:
Mature garden=overgrown wilderness à la the Sleeping Beauty's castle
In need of renovation=in need of demolition
Convenient to [major road]=built beneath the underpass
Quiet rural setting=back end of nowhere, reached by twelve miles of unmetalled lanes
Spectacular views=perched on cliff edge

and so on.

The end is in sight when you see a floor plan. However, there are still the labels: 'lounge' and 'sun room' or possibly 'reception area' or even 'vestibule'. Did anyone ever call a room in their own house a 'lounge' or a 'vestibule' when they meant sitting-room and hall? (Even in an airport, 'departure lounge' seems to me a shabby wriggling out of 'waiting room', in an effort to suggest the passengers are enjoying themselves. No-one could lounge on those chairs, and the carpet's too thin to do it on the floor.) As for sunrooms, that's a little over-optimistic in Northern Ireland, don't you think? Surely 'weather room' or 'windowed room' would be more appropriate? I suppose it's a minor improvement on 'conservatory' meaing 'PVC lean-to with own muggy micro-climate'.

Usually there's a photograph, or for 'new builds' (what has the poor gerund ever done to estate agents to be so rejected?), an artist's impression. Of course it's to be expected that the artist's impression should bear little relation to the muddy building site, cluttered with bits of rafter, heaps of topsoil, concrete blocks, assorted rubbish and Portaloos, of reality, but how do they work those photographs? Surely they can't all be taken on the three days of fine weather per year? And the ones of the gardens always seem to be taken at ground level to give a Borrowers-eye-view of the size of the place.

Another baltic morning. The de-icer froze on the windscreen, and apparently someone fell on the ice at the bus stop and broke her leg. I heard on the radio last night that they'll be starting roadworks in the new year on the Westlink, which will just about double the journey time into Belfast. The spokesman waffled a bit about the park and ride at the train station (already full to bursting) and that they were 'investigating' starting one with the bus. Well, that's a fat lot of good at this stage, especially considering the buses are going to take an hour and a half to go nine miles. They need to let them drive up the hard shoulder.

I had a thought: if I am at some point unable to get on the internet, someone else would need to have mod rights to trennels. It pretty much mods itself, but there ought to be a back-up for booting trolls etc. Any of you want to take it on?

I've just got back from seeing GoF. The stupid eejit on the ticket desk told us at first that it was sold out, and by the time we'd gone back to the car to have a council of war, the only tickets we could get were down in the front corner. Emma Watson looks rather lopsided or something when you aren't looking at her straight on.

Anyway, I took a notebook (much to my brothers' derision), so this is more or less point-by-point as it struck me. ( Spoilers, of course )

Now I really, really want Book #7!

Tomorrow will be the first Saturday—the first day—in 4 weeks when I shan't have to get up at any time at all. Mmmm, sleep.

I bought elerrina_amanya another pair of baby scissors in EDCO on my way home, and also a purple rollerball for myself, because I couldn't resist it.

This morning's spam quota is from one Intersection L. Xylophon. Oh, joy.

There are some plans to introduce X-ray scanning and searching at train stations. Commuters will be very frustrated. I'm wondering whether the lives saved by the prevention of a possible terrorist attack will be greater than the fraction of everone's life that's sliced off by being zapped with X-rays twice a day, five days a week throughout their working lives. Plus the increased road rage as people take the car instead.

I was pretty busy today. I had to saw up a strip board into five pieces to solder circiuts on to them. Estates finally moved the lights in my room; it's about three times brighter. I was walking around when I felt this great stab of pain in my toe. I took off my shoe and sock to see a piece of copper wire, the core of a cable, sticking into my toe. Ouch! I have no idea how it got through my shoe.

The Times commented yesterday that France had given the world a new element in rioting, to go with barricades and flung cobblestones: voitures bruleés. Actually, we got there first; a portion of the population of Northern Ireland semi-regularly gets disgruntled and starts lighting cars on fire. They then save effort by using the flaming cars as barricades. Oh, how I love my country.

I'm going to a wedding on Friday. It seems a little strange to wear a poppy to a wedding, but I wouldn't feel right not to wear it on that date. (The groom tells me he chose it because he wanted one that was easy to remember.)

I know there are several people on my flist who sail. I was reading the Oxford Companion to Ships and the Sea, and I at last learned what the Surprise is doing when she's griping: turning up into the wind too much. So far so good, but it then went on to say that although this was usually due to poor hull design, it could be helped by reducing forward sail. Now perhaps this is me being stupid, but surely reducing the force of the headsails in relation to that of the mainsail is going to tend to turn the head of the boat into the wind, not away from it? Mind you, the typestting of the book was a bit hiccuppy in places; maybe there was a vital line of meaning missing.

Went hunting around the place for clothes. Everything is maroon. Why? Who suits maroon? Ron, I sympathise deeply.

Also:

Brainy Kid

In high school, you were acing AP classes or hanging out in the computer lab. You may have been a bit of a geek back then, but now you're a total success!

Not a surprise, really.

I was tagged by hymnia to do the "10 reasons why I like Harry/Ginny" meme, and I've finally got around to doing it. It's pretty pathetic compared to the ones other people have been doing, but here goes:

( Read more... )

Not tagging anyone, because 1) practically all the H/G people on my flist have done it and 2) I don't like to pressure anyone, but if anyone wants to do it, consider yourselves tagged.

Look at LiveJournal's front page. Not only is there a Hallowe'en themed banner, but Frank the goat has gone trick-or-treat-ing dressed in a sheet. Baah!

Happy Hallowe'en!