(Part IV , VI)
McGonagle Biscuits was a family firm, established for well over a hundred and fifty years, and the current president was Agnes McGonagle. She was also known as the fifth Duchess of Stirling, and was the sole heir to the family fortune until she deigned to produce a child. Since she was currently only nineteen years old everyone thought she had plenty of time. The untimely loss of her parents had left her thinking otherwise though.
Carter and I were waiting outside the McGonagle executive suite, somewhat impatiently. Apparently Prentiss Cakes had set up some kind of lawsuit over some mini jam sponges and the lawyers were having their say. Lawyers love to have their say, and extensively, they're working for rich corporate clients. I had locked horns with a few lawyer types while at college and knew the ropes. My ex-partner Wiggins knew how to deal with those types. She's gone now, to who knows where.
The secretary took a call on the intercom and then looked over at us. She was the maternal type and waved us through to the office of the current owner and president of McGonagle Biscuits once some boringly suited legal types had left. As we passed over the threshold the I felt the temperature drop a few degrees and then was distracted by the decor. The room was spartan in the main and thin in the business style. The desk had moved from the old-fashioned position of dominance, now being reversed to look out through the massive expanse of glass that dominated a wall opposite the door, and now being flanked by worktops and some computers with streams of numbers pouring up the screen. All the clutter was concentrated in that end of the office and the round coffee table presumably used for meetings was barren.
Agnes McGonagle was leaning on her chair as we entered and blinked when she saw Carter with me, even scowled a little. Some attractive women don't like other attractive women being around. It's a fact of life.
"Agents, it's good to meet you." Straightforward voice, nothing special. Carter took the lead and did the usual introductions. Then we resumed. "Well, what can I do for you?"
"You've taken over this company recently - we're sorry for your loss - and we'd like to know if there's anything you think would be useful for us in our line of enquiries." Subtle as a brick, just the way I liked it. "And may I have one of these biscuits?"
"Yes, of course." I took a custard cream as she thought it through.
"I don't know that there's anything we can add to the last research report we sent through to you two months ago. It's still mostly a mystery. You like custard creams, huh? Soft on the outside and soft on the inside." She winked at me. I couldn't remember the last time a woman had winked at me. Carter scowled some more. I don't know why she would; She had a lovely boyfriend called Frankie who made her spaghetti and meatballs. People are wacky. McGonagle grabbed a packed of the already mentioned biscuits from a display and lobbed them at me. "On the house."
"Thank you, ma'am. It's been three months and the activities in question seem to be escalating, and the statistical link remains. There must be something going on here."
"Nothing to my knowledge, agent. Nothing that I know of. It's a mystery." McGonagle locked eyes with mine for a moment, smiled, and then motioned for the door. "If you have nothing further..."
"Has anyone gone missing on your staff recently, Miss McGonagle?" Carter, asking the obvious questions while I munched another biscuit. I had to cut down.
"I'll ask personnel to send you a report, but for now I have to get back to work. I'm running some simulations for my Maths degree and that blasted lawsuit has already sapped a huge part of my day. Learning's a great thing, especially when it distracts from company tedium."
There was nothing more we could ask without being rude so we made our farewells and departed, custard creams firmly in hand. On the way back to the office Carter was stubbornly silent. I was sat thoughtfully and pondered everything we'd seen. Mathematics didn't seem to fit very well with biscuit making and McGonagle was an impressive young lady. Back at the office I reviewed missing people reports and wondered who to approach at the University when I coincidentally went to check in with old friends.
Two cups of tea later, and after lunch of course I finally opened the biscuits and found the note. On it there was a place, a time and a few brief instructions. I didn't tell anyone but I did leave a copy with Carter in a sealed envelope on her desk, asking her to read it the next day if I didn't come in. I didn't want to spook an informant. Then I read some more reports and narrowed down the possible identities of the missing/disappeared man. Finally I left work ten minutes early and made my way to the Rusty Bucket pub on Wend's Octangle where inside I told the owner I was for the small function room and was shown in.
Agnes McGonagle was inside and I would have seen how pretty she was this evening if my attention hadn't been grabbed by the main attraction. I'd never met myself before.
More? Of course there'll be more!
Sunday, 30 June 2013
Saturday, 29 June 2013
Oops
I missed the first birthday of the Quirky Muffin. How unforgivable! Henceforth the blathering about 'Pavane' will be the birthday post and this will be the first post of the new year.
It's really quite fitting that the QM's birthday coincide with the end of my first job. It kind of ties everything together neatly. For (almost) every end there is a new beginning, and who knows what challenges and wonders will follow? Well, I don't and am really quite miserable but there must be fake positivity before true positivity kicks into action! Fake positivity for the win!
Being temporarily unemployed will have little to no negative repercussions on the Quirky Muffin. In fact it will become ever more necessary and fulfilling. Now that I've worked I can see a few things I didn't see before:
1> In research the spark of interest is essential.
2> Always eat in the Arts Centre.
3> Stick to your plan and read a lot first. Always read a lot first.
4> Don't be pressured into premature calculations.
5> Remember: Flexibility is key in brain-intensive work.
It's interesting to note that what happens to a Maths research when they're out of employment is often that they continue working if only to keep things moving and hopefully generate some publications. So you do if for free, hope you have enough papers to read and stay vaguely up to date, and look for jobs in the mean-time. I've actually worked far more effectively for free than I have while paid, which is a terrible indictment and affirmation of my contrariness, but does show some encouragement.
So, job goes and Quirky Muffin stays. There will be more Quirky Muffins, more Film Bins, and more jobs in the future. They'll have to drag me away from Aberystwyth with a steam locomotive. Come and get me, coppers!
O.
It's really quite fitting that the QM's birthday coincide with the end of my first job. It kind of ties everything together neatly. For (almost) every end there is a new beginning, and who knows what challenges and wonders will follow? Well, I don't and am really quite miserable but there must be fake positivity before true positivity kicks into action! Fake positivity for the win!
Being temporarily unemployed will have little to no negative repercussions on the Quirky Muffin. In fact it will become ever more necessary and fulfilling. Now that I've worked I can see a few things I didn't see before:
1> In research the spark of interest is essential.
2> Always eat in the Arts Centre.
3> Stick to your plan and read a lot first. Always read a lot first.
4> Don't be pressured into premature calculations.
5> Remember: Flexibility is key in brain-intensive work.
It's interesting to note that what happens to a Maths research when they're out of employment is often that they continue working if only to keep things moving and hopefully generate some publications. So you do if for free, hope you have enough papers to read and stay vaguely up to date, and look for jobs in the mean-time. I've actually worked far more effectively for free than I have while paid, which is a terrible indictment and affirmation of my contrariness, but does show some encouragement.
So, job goes and Quirky Muffin stays. There will be more Quirky Muffins, more Film Bins, and more jobs in the future. They'll have to drag me away from Aberystwyth with a steam locomotive. Come and get me, coppers!
O.
Thursday, 27 June 2013
Book: 'Pavane' by Keith Roberts (1968)
How would the world have been different if the Armada had made it to Britain and the Catholic Church never lost its grip on these green isles? Without that frantic change in the global balance that was British Independence from the Church, would there have been a stasis in world events, a delaying of research and technology, and a ridiculous prolongation of the feudal system far beyond any reasonable duration?
What I've written above is the core idea behind the fiction 'Pavane', a sequence of connected stories set in that Church-dominated Britain in the Twentieth Century, where rebellion is beginning to brew and a prophecy is stirring and evolving through the course of the disparate narratives.
There have been many alternate history narratives, and alarmingly I've read none of them, but this does seem to be one of the earliest examples. It's a strange book, somehow dense and not dense. There are faerie-folk in the background but also mature human issues touched upon especially for the female characters.
'Pavane' is well-written and well-constructed but lacks a certain charm. It's easy to put down and then leave there for a while unless effort is exerted to finish, but the concept is novel and if there's a flaw it's in the dense writing style of the times and its nature as a fix-up novel. Fix-up novels have been mentioned before, specifically in the 'Red Harvest' review, but here we have what are clearly a number of clearly separated short stories with some added connectivity. I'm on record as being troubled by short stories, and it's true again here. Maybe they're just too dense, or it's the annoyance of stop-starting.
Perhaps it is a good book. I suspect it is. There's a clear duality going on, an underlying epic narrative based around one family and their role in the unravelling of a millennium of outside rulers, and even a role for the Old Gods and the faerie people. What there isn't is a sense of even transient fun. There's no humour, and that makes things hard to read. For me it is an axiom that there is humour even in the worst of times, as it is the most common outlet for stress and frustration. There's always a gag. So, 'good but joyless' is the ultimate verdict.
I've talked around in circles on this one. It's clearly an influential work, and well done, but it needs some effort to get beyond it's status as s fix-up. If you do though, and if you don't mind bitter-sweet endings, then it would be well worth a read.
pavane: A moderately slow, courtly processional dance in duple time/meter.
O.
PS Retrospective 'Happy birthday to the Quirky Muffin'!
What I've written above is the core idea behind the fiction 'Pavane', a sequence of connected stories set in that Church-dominated Britain in the Twentieth Century, where rebellion is beginning to brew and a prophecy is stirring and evolving through the course of the disparate narratives.
There have been many alternate history narratives, and alarmingly I've read none of them, but this does seem to be one of the earliest examples. It's a strange book, somehow dense and not dense. There are faerie-folk in the background but also mature human issues touched upon especially for the female characters.
'Pavane' is well-written and well-constructed but lacks a certain charm. It's easy to put down and then leave there for a while unless effort is exerted to finish, but the concept is novel and if there's a flaw it's in the dense writing style of the times and its nature as a fix-up novel. Fix-up novels have been mentioned before, specifically in the 'Red Harvest' review, but here we have what are clearly a number of clearly separated short stories with some added connectivity. I'm on record as being troubled by short stories, and it's true again here. Maybe they're just too dense, or it's the annoyance of stop-starting.
Perhaps it is a good book. I suspect it is. There's a clear duality going on, an underlying epic narrative based around one family and their role in the unravelling of a millennium of outside rulers, and even a role for the Old Gods and the faerie people. What there isn't is a sense of even transient fun. There's no humour, and that makes things hard to read. For me it is an axiom that there is humour even in the worst of times, as it is the most common outlet for stress and frustration. There's always a gag. So, 'good but joyless' is the ultimate verdict.
I've talked around in circles on this one. It's clearly an influential work, and well done, but it needs some effort to get beyond it's status as s fix-up. If you do though, and if you don't mind bitter-sweet endings, then it would be well worth a read.
pavane: A moderately slow, courtly processional dance in duple time/meter.
O.
PS Retrospective 'Happy birthday to the Quirky Muffin'!
Tuesday, 25 June 2013
Please Don't Swing The Otter
There are a few moments in one of my favourite episode of 'Due South' - the one called 'The Deal' - where Benton refers to the incident where he got his scar from a bully swinging an otter, and they're interesting because they're subtle despite being silly. Somehow that show could do silly and subtle at the same time once it got into its stride and it was a joy to behold. I've been thinking about it because subtlety doesn't seem to appear so much in television or film any more and it's sad.
Now, I've never been accused of subtlety, as anyone who's read the monumental 'Clompie sweeps Vegas' can attest, and it's not just because of the incident with the donkeys, the Gorgonzola, and the Bishop of Rome. Well, it is mainly because of that incident but who can say whether razing Vegas to the ground and replacing it with a giant plaque dedicated to Doctor Watson is really an influence in the matter?
It's nice to get the wacky back, even if it doesn't last. I was worried it was gone forever, but apparently it was merely stuck down the back of the computer table, stapled to the wall and covered in brown paper. It was very strange. Sometimes you have to wonder where the 'wacky' goes in times of stress. I certainly do. Fortunately a steady diet of 'M*A*S*H', 'Get Smart' and 'The Six Million Dollar Man' is having a restorative influence. Oh, there was such a magnificently silly sequence in the 'Six Million Dollar Man' episode 'Dr Wells Is Missing' that I almost leapt out of my stupor in one go. Oh, it's such an awesome slow motion fight sequence. Everyone should see it and be internally enthused with the silliness! It's like a cocoa of wackiness!
So, subtlety, does it still exist? If it did exist, would be able to spot it or would it be too discreet to see? Is it possible that there is a third option beyond obvious and subtle? A third option of things so subtle that they go completely unnoticed? Now wouldn't that be interesting? Or wouldn't it be simply a subset of what we already refer to as 'subliminal'? Bother, my own argument is destroyed before it launches properly, as sometimes happens.
As this blog meanders back and forth with no real theme, I realise it's time to draw to a close. But there shall be more. The 'Quirky Muffin' shall rise again. I just need to get my writing habit back and some motivation and then... BOOM!
O.
Now, I've never been accused of subtlety, as anyone who's read the monumental 'Clompie sweeps Vegas' can attest, and it's not just because of the incident with the donkeys, the Gorgonzola, and the Bishop of Rome. Well, it is mainly because of that incident but who can say whether razing Vegas to the ground and replacing it with a giant plaque dedicated to Doctor Watson is really an influence in the matter?
It's nice to get the wacky back, even if it doesn't last. I was worried it was gone forever, but apparently it was merely stuck down the back of the computer table, stapled to the wall and covered in brown paper. It was very strange. Sometimes you have to wonder where the 'wacky' goes in times of stress. I certainly do. Fortunately a steady diet of 'M*A*S*H', 'Get Smart' and 'The Six Million Dollar Man' is having a restorative influence. Oh, there was such a magnificently silly sequence in the 'Six Million Dollar Man' episode 'Dr Wells Is Missing' that I almost leapt out of my stupor in one go. Oh, it's such an awesome slow motion fight sequence. Everyone should see it and be internally enthused with the silliness! It's like a cocoa of wackiness!
So, subtlety, does it still exist? If it did exist, would be able to spot it or would it be too discreet to see? Is it possible that there is a third option beyond obvious and subtle? A third option of things so subtle that they go completely unnoticed? Now wouldn't that be interesting? Or wouldn't it be simply a subset of what we already refer to as 'subliminal'? Bother, my own argument is destroyed before it launches properly, as sometimes happens.
As this blog meanders back and forth with no real theme, I realise it's time to draw to a close. But there shall be more. The 'Quirky Muffin' shall rise again. I just need to get my writing habit back and some motivation and then... BOOM!
O.
Saturday, 22 June 2013
The Longest Day
The Longest Day has been and gone. Some time ago, in December probably, I wrote about the shortest day and its influence in seasonal depression and more specifically to me. Well, we're at the other extreme now, with yesterday having been the summer solstice and the hours of daylight imperceptibly shortening already.
Being a mildly deranged Oliver is always complicated. For more than half the year I'm mildly jet-lagged due to daylight savings time and a persistent awareness of that hours difference. There's also a second overlapping portion of the year where days are getting shorter, which also upsets me, resulting in just three remaining months of the year where there are no seasonal barriers to a settled mind. Now, of course, to blame the external forces is unfair. In reality I have a resistant body clock and hyper-awareness but it would be nice to lose that hours jetlag throughout the summer. Why is it still there?
Taking all the above into account, the longest day is actually not a wonderful occasion for me and maybe other seasonally sensitive people. It's the beginning of the declining half of the year, and the beginning of that deadly double overlap with British Summer Time. Fortunately self-awareness can be turned around so it's not all bad!
My last few posts here at the Quirky Muffin have been the required quirkiness. That's the cost of science and of a possible burnout. I spend far too much time at a computer giving out instead of taking in but that should change soon. Aberystwyth is remaining lovely predictably, despite cold cloudy weather and a storm of bizarre illnesses. Here's hoping that good things can come of these last few days, with a little hard work.
Now, if only I could this blasted thesis work reconstruction to work, blast it!
O.
Being a mildly deranged Oliver is always complicated. For more than half the year I'm mildly jet-lagged due to daylight savings time and a persistent awareness of that hours difference. There's also a second overlapping portion of the year where days are getting shorter, which also upsets me, resulting in just three remaining months of the year where there are no seasonal barriers to a settled mind. Now, of course, to blame the external forces is unfair. In reality I have a resistant body clock and hyper-awareness but it would be nice to lose that hours jetlag throughout the summer. Why is it still there?
Taking all the above into account, the longest day is actually not a wonderful occasion for me and maybe other seasonally sensitive people. It's the beginning of the declining half of the year, and the beginning of that deadly double overlap with British Summer Time. Fortunately self-awareness can be turned around so it's not all bad!
My last few posts here at the Quirky Muffin have been the required quirkiness. That's the cost of science and of a possible burnout. I spend far too much time at a computer giving out instead of taking in but that should change soon. Aberystwyth is remaining lovely predictably, despite cold cloudy weather and a storm of bizarre illnesses. Here's hoping that good things can come of these last few days, with a little hard work.
Now, if only I could this blasted thesis work reconstruction to work, blast it!
O.
Thursday, 20 June 2013
Story: 'Triangles', VIII [Revised]
(Part VII , IX)
On top of Constitution Hill you can see a huge swathe of Aberystwyth near the Seafront, an expanse of hills to the north and distant mountains, and a glorious seascape to the west framed by Cardigan Bay. At least that's what you see in our plane of existence. As Delores topped the Hill, angular gravel crunching under her trainers, she surveyed the landscape properly for the first time.
The whirlpools didn't stretch as far to the horizon as she had thought. They were actually localised to the vicinity of the Aberystwyth seaboard. Water was visibly streaming in from the far ocean to that local sink, being replenished at location unknown. The hills were reassuring green, if a bit sparkly in places, and a mild drizzle was falling from on high. Geographically the similarities to her own Aberystwyth were overwhelming. There was even a tri-rail heading out toward Borth.
Seen at such a scale, the landscape provoked a spike of homesickness so sharp that Delores almost buckled, but she held firm.
"Excuse me, but do you have any idea what's going on?"
She buckled that time, and then fainted for good measure. Upon awakening a kindly bearded face looked down at her, squinting confusedly but with gladness at her revival. Apart from being a bit pointy, the man was reassuringly human, unlike the thing in 'her' bed in town. "Umm, are you okay? What just happened?"
"I guess the food isn't agreeing with me as much as I thought. And you're impossible."
The bearded man smiled grimly and began to speak, before popping out of existence utterly.
"Oh great. I've gone totally insane." Suddenly it all made sense. Triangles, faintness, crazy videos and bizarre things in beds. "And if I'm not insane then I'm trapped in a world that's going to kill me eventually if the food isn't working out."
Delores stumbled over to the visitor centre, and for the first time in this bizarre encounter she found some hope. Hope takes unexpected forms sometimes, whether it looks like a giant cosmic whirlpool or the last bottle of water in the fridge or even an expected domino of an event waiting to be pushed. In this case, hope looked like a circle floating in the air above one of the cafe tables. And through the circle could be seen events and people in a whole different world.
Delores moved toward the circle. She could escape, maybe even get home. But... should she...?
To be continued...
On top of Constitution Hill you can see a huge swathe of Aberystwyth near the Seafront, an expanse of hills to the north and distant mountains, and a glorious seascape to the west framed by Cardigan Bay. At least that's what you see in our plane of existence. As Delores topped the Hill, angular gravel crunching under her trainers, she surveyed the landscape properly for the first time.
The whirlpools didn't stretch as far to the horizon as she had thought. They were actually localised to the vicinity of the Aberystwyth seaboard. Water was visibly streaming in from the far ocean to that local sink, being replenished at location unknown. The hills were reassuring green, if a bit sparkly in places, and a mild drizzle was falling from on high. Geographically the similarities to her own Aberystwyth were overwhelming. There was even a tri-rail heading out toward Borth.
Seen at such a scale, the landscape provoked a spike of homesickness so sharp that Delores almost buckled, but she held firm.
"Excuse me, but do you have any idea what's going on?"
She buckled that time, and then fainted for good measure. Upon awakening a kindly bearded face looked down at her, squinting confusedly but with gladness at her revival. Apart from being a bit pointy, the man was reassuringly human, unlike the thing in 'her' bed in town. "Umm, are you okay? What just happened?"
"I guess the food isn't agreeing with me as much as I thought. And you're impossible."
The bearded man smiled grimly and began to speak, before popping out of existence utterly.
"Oh great. I've gone totally insane." Suddenly it all made sense. Triangles, faintness, crazy videos and bizarre things in beds. "And if I'm not insane then I'm trapped in a world that's going to kill me eventually if the food isn't working out."
Delores stumbled over to the visitor centre, and for the first time in this bizarre encounter she found some hope. Hope takes unexpected forms sometimes, whether it looks like a giant cosmic whirlpool or the last bottle of water in the fridge or even an expected domino of an event waiting to be pushed. In this case, hope looked like a circle floating in the air above one of the cafe tables. And through the circle could be seen events and people in a whole different world.
Delores moved toward the circle. She could escape, maybe even get home. But... should she...?
To be continued...
Tuesday, 18 June 2013
Notes from the Seafront
In my last fortnight of work here in Aberystwyth I have set myself a challenge to appreciate the environment and get out a lot more. To that end, and with good intentions, I spent a few hours reading near the lighthouse this evening and have plans for the rest of the week. Not only did I read I also thought about the upcoming first year anniversary of the Quirky Muffin a little too.
Reading at the seafront is really a lovely thing, especially when it's 'The Song of the Quarkbeast' by Jasper Fforde. I did note a few events going on around me though. For one thing a coxed four person boat rowed out of the marina and into the open sea before vanishing over the horizon. That was very mysterious and I wonder where those ladies went. Also, I had an interesting conversation with a retired university guy, who seemed perplexed by my reading instead of angling. He seemed a bit lonely, which was sad, but also kind of contented. It seems that the seafront is a very busy place, judging by all the people who passed my comfy bench!
Incidentally, 'Song of the Quarkbeast' is very good, as was the first book in the series 'The Last Dragonslayer'. Well done, Mr Fforde, there's much anticipation for book three, which is due sometime this year.
The hours on the seafront seem to have been inordinately inspirational as I've spent part of this evening coating brazil nuts and almonds in dark chocolate and cackling maniacally. The only hard part in making chocolate coated things is getting even layers on everything and no flat surfaces in the cooling. As first times go this is one of the more interesting types, involving as it does chocolate and nuts and home making.
With the first birthday of the Quirky Muffin coming up on the 27th June I'm wondering whether to do anything special... and drawing blanks. If anyone has any ideas then leave them on the comments section now happily reinstated below (Google+ tried to take it over but I thrust them back with a well-aimed chocolate coated pineapple). Now, there's a thought... chocolate coated pineapple...
Good night.
Reading at the seafront is really a lovely thing, especially when it's 'The Song of the Quarkbeast' by Jasper Fforde. I did note a few events going on around me though. For one thing a coxed four person boat rowed out of the marina and into the open sea before vanishing over the horizon. That was very mysterious and I wonder where those ladies went. Also, I had an interesting conversation with a retired university guy, who seemed perplexed by my reading instead of angling. He seemed a bit lonely, which was sad, but also kind of contented. It seems that the seafront is a very busy place, judging by all the people who passed my comfy bench!
Incidentally, 'Song of the Quarkbeast' is very good, as was the first book in the series 'The Last Dragonslayer'. Well done, Mr Fforde, there's much anticipation for book three, which is due sometime this year.
The hours on the seafront seem to have been inordinately inspirational as I've spent part of this evening coating brazil nuts and almonds in dark chocolate and cackling maniacally. The only hard part in making chocolate coated things is getting even layers on everything and no flat surfaces in the cooling. As first times go this is one of the more interesting types, involving as it does chocolate and nuts and home making.
With the first birthday of the Quirky Muffin coming up on the 27th June I'm wondering whether to do anything special... and drawing blanks. If anyone has any ideas then leave them on the comments section now happily reinstated below (Google+ tried to take it over but I thrust them back with a well-aimed chocolate coated pineapple). Now, there's a thought... chocolate coated pineapple...
Good night.
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