David Moore

Sunday, February 22, 2004

I was in the farmers’ market in Meeting House Square when all the sirens started hollering, and police cars and fire engines came down through Temple Bar.

‘Weird, I wonder what’s happened’, was the most interested I could get. Then we crossed the Liffey at the Millennium Bridge and I heard a grey-haired Guard say there’d been a ‘bad crash’ down below by the Clarence.

Now we know how bad it was – and we’re all shivering a little tonight in Hurdleford Town and it’s not just the cold crisp air.

Thursday, February 19, 2004

An article in today’s Indo describes the problems facing Bewley’s: ‘Bewley’s, which also announced the closure of a northside bakery, said there was a question over the future of the iconoclastic caf?s as a result of Luas disruption, falling numbers of passers-by and steep increases in rates, rent and insurance’ (my emphasis).

Wow. And I thought the cafes were traditional and conservative. Instead it turns out they (to quote the American Heritage dictionary) ‘attack and seek to overthrow traditional or popular ideas or institutions’. I suppose the flock wallpaper should have tipped me off.

Clearly the journalist meant the exact opposite of what he said, a mistake made worse when the quote two paragraphs down uses the word ‘icon’ more or less correctly. But where were the sub-editors? Broadsheet or tabloid size, that’s pretty bad.

It’s not too long ago that the Irish Times ran a letter lamenting the amount of violence on our streets that included the horrific description of someone being ‘kicked into a comma’. Copies of ‘Eats Shoots & Leaves’ for both sets of subs?

Monday, February 16, 2004

I’m trying to give up coffee again. But she won’t let me go.

First it’s the routine thing. I’m into work, just checked my mail, time for a nice cup of coffee. It’s how I (used to) mark my morning. So I’ve dodged that one by bringing tea bags and brewing up as soon as I get here.

Then there’s the withdrawal headaches. I normally only drink one cup a day, but if I haven’t had it by lunchtime my head starts to ache. Fortunately, that’s only for the first day or two, so I’m past that now. Not exactly Trainspotting as a cold turkey experience, but it underlines how much caffeine gets to you.

Then there’s the culture thing. I love sitting in cafes, and they’re not called that for nothing. I know there are plenty of other things I could be drinking, but none seem quite right.

Finally it’s the taste. Except for a few exceptions, decaff coffee tastes terrible, and few enough places in Dublin have more than a jar of instant tucked away for visiting Americans.

So why am I even bothering? When I’m not drinking leaded coffee I sleep better, my joints stop being sore and I’m less agitated. I was in the Motor Tax Office on Friday after a couple of great coffees, and I was a wreck, dropping cheques, photographs, forms and stuff all over the place, my heart racing.

Coffee is great for loads of people, and causes them no real problems. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m one of them. I’ll try being off it for a week and let you know how I get on.

But it just tastes so good.

Tuesday, February 10, 2004

First Marathon became Snickers, and now this? Creme eggs becoming less creamy?

In the halcyon days of the mid 1980s, when my only concern was getting home from school in time to watch Grange Hill, the passing of the seasons was measured by the arrival of the foil wrapped egg shaped delights from cadburys.

But I just had my first creme egg of the year, and the ‘creme’ was more like foam – it didn’t ooze, drip or pour and if you bit the pointy end of the egg and turned it upside down, nothing would happen. You just can’t suck the stuff properly any more.

Did I get a bad egg, or has there been a recipe change?

Monday, February 02, 2004

Have to say there’s something brilliant about this duvet cover.  You get one with the positions reversed, too, for couples who sleep on the other side.

Same sex variants are also available, but we could also do with a set with dogs or cats curled up at the foot of the bed. Or in the case of the cat in our household, climbing over our heads, knocking things off nearby shelves and generally making a nuisance of himself until we get up and feed him.

(They’re for sale, if you fancy one.
Thanks to BoingBoing for the link)

Tuesday, January 20, 2004

I’m struck down with a cold, blurggh. That’ll teach me to go to the Botanical Gardens in the middle of January. Until normal service is resumed, here’s an article I wrote a while ago, about a similar predicament:

Wednesday, January 14, 2004

In the UK, broadsheets are now tabloid, and I’m not just referring to their editorial policies.

Late last year, first The Independent and then quickly The Times started producing issues of their papers on tabloid-sized paper, specifically aimed at commuters struggling to turn broadsheet pages on a crowded train.

I got the chance to check out a copy of the Independent while I was in England over Christmas, and I think it’s great – much more manageable even if you’re not hemmed in on the 7.45 to King’s Cross.

There’s obviously a design overhead in laying out two versions of the same paper, and the smaller size performs so much better from a usability perspective, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the broadsheet version was rapidly phased out.

Which leaves us with only one question – what do we use instead as a derogatory term since we can’t just slag something off as being ‘tabloid’ any more.

– Guardian coverage of the Independent’s switch