It's been almost five months since I last posted on my blog. Of course the blame lies solely at my door and for that I should be punished, chastised and generally given evil looks at - naughty man. In my defence, all I can say is that sometimes, life just catches up with you and takes over. Before you know it, a significant amount of time (138 days in fact) has passed.
Thinking about that on a grander scale as I just have, that's actually quite disconcerting. At the moment I am looking for a new job. Although I am trying hard to get one, I guess I am dragging my feet a little for no defendable reason. Every day I spend here is a day when I could be doing something else.
I recently had a week off to look after B (who isn't so much of a B any more - maybe I should change her name to 'T' for toddler, but perhaps terror would be more apt). The childminder had to take some time off at relatively short notice. It was something right out of a soap opera (without the random murder, 180 degree plot twists and dramatic confrontation). Her daughter was getting married and she had a friend that was going to help out in the week leading up to the big occasion. Of course she broke her leg (I say of course, I mean with a wedding scheduled, how could it not happen!) As a result of this unfortunate turn of events, the childminder had to step in and take over.
So, that left me to look after B. Not a problem in the slightest as I adore her and love spending time with her. However, the childminder hadn't long got back from spending three weeks away on a Tibetan retreat. To prevent her going to the replacement (I'd rather bathe in a tub full of cat urine, which coincidentally, is what the replacement's house smelt like), a mixture of myself, W, my mum and W's mum. the plus side of this is that we saved some childminding fees - the downside is that it has cost me two week's holiday (in total).
I took her up to London on the Friday as, thanks to W, I had a meeting to see someone from one of the best agencies in my field. It's only when you have to experience something like London that you realise how unfriendly our transport system is for parents with small children. There were almost no escalators on the underground, meaning I had to carry B in one arm and drag the pushchair up with the other. However, I was encouraged due to the number of people who helped me out with stairs. It can't help but make you feel warmth and hope for the human race, especially as I recall W telling me of her experiences on the train when she was pregnant.
In my favour, the interview was 'unique' as it was the first one the woman had done with the candidate and a small child. For the most, she was well behaved, but it wasn't much of a surprise when, towards the end, she wanted to start exploring the new room she was in. I believe I got all the important points across and post interview feedback was positive.
Despite a couple of queries from me, there's been nothing yet, but I have set myself a target of being in a new position at the end of the year and I feel quite positive about achieving that. In a fluffy candy floss cloud dreamy world I would be able to stay at home looking after B and running my nieces to school for my brother and sister-in-law so my Dad can enjoy his retirement after years and years of hard work. I am trying to get my blog going again (and starting a new one on a different topic) to try and get my writing up to an acceptable standard with a view to possibly doing some freelance work.
I need to do plenty of work in that area though before that's a possibility.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Unthinkable
I have been following a story in the news that broke last week I believe. A family on holiday in the Algarve, Portugal has had one of their three children, Madeline, almost 4 years old, taken from them. That alone is horrible enough, and I can't imagine the hell they are going through at the moment.but the circumstances surrounding the disappearance are quite astonishing. The couple, Garry and Kate, were out having a meal together at the time while their three children were sleeping. They were having a meal at the place they were staying and were going back to the room to check on their kids every 30 minutes. In one of the periods between them checking, someone obviously went in and took the child.
Predictably, as a new(ish) parent myself, my initial response was anger and I posted on a forum the other day how disgusted I was that they would leave their three children unsupervised and that I wouldn't leave B alone for thirty seconds, let alone thirty minutes. W wrote a response saying sometimes you can't help but leave your child alone sometimes (not, obviously for such a long period of time as mentioned above) as if you didn't you wouldn't get anything done. She told me later that night that she was originally going to post that we have both been guilty in the past of leaving B in our (locked) car when we have gone and paid for petrol. This scared the hell out of me as it just highlights how easy it is to switch off. Leaving her in a locked car is something you perceive as safety, but it only takes a second for a thief to break into a car and drive off with it. I will certainly be more careful about that in the future and, where possible, I will purchase petrol when I am alone (either that or B will come in with me to pay). Knowing her, I doubt it will be long before she wants to hand the money over herself anyway!
As I write this Madeline has still not been found and I am beginning to fear the worst. Whilst I cannot believe the parents could act so irresponsibly, I can't help but feel sorry for them. In their continuing coverage of the story, the media, on one hand echo the sentiments of any parent and are praying for Madeline's safe return. On the other hand, they, along with the correspondence of the general public have been quite damning of the parents' actions. Of course, this is the last thing they need at the moment. I really hope Madeline is found soon, and most important of all, that she is unharmed. However, I can't stop thinking what sort of emotional damage this can do to a young child and her family. This, hopefully, is a wake-up call to any couples that may be guilty of doing something similar with their children. It certainly has been for me.
Predictably, as a new(ish) parent myself, my initial response was anger and I posted on a forum the other day how disgusted I was that they would leave their three children unsupervised and that I wouldn't leave B alone for thirty seconds, let alone thirty minutes. W wrote a response saying sometimes you can't help but leave your child alone sometimes (not, obviously for such a long period of time as mentioned above) as if you didn't you wouldn't get anything done. She told me later that night that she was originally going to post that we have both been guilty in the past of leaving B in our (locked) car when we have gone and paid for petrol. This scared the hell out of me as it just highlights how easy it is to switch off. Leaving her in a locked car is something you perceive as safety, but it only takes a second for a thief to break into a car and drive off with it. I will certainly be more careful about that in the future and, where possible, I will purchase petrol when I am alone (either that or B will come in with me to pay). Knowing her, I doubt it will be long before she wants to hand the money over herself anyway!
As I write this Madeline has still not been found and I am beginning to fear the worst. Whilst I cannot believe the parents could act so irresponsibly, I can't help but feel sorry for them. In their continuing coverage of the story, the media, on one hand echo the sentiments of any parent and are praying for Madeline's safe return. On the other hand, they, along with the correspondence of the general public have been quite damning of the parents' actions. Of course, this is the last thing they need at the moment. I really hope Madeline is found soon, and most important of all, that she is unharmed. However, I can't stop thinking what sort of emotional damage this can do to a young child and her family. This, hopefully, is a wake-up call to any couples that may be guilty of doing something similar with their children. It certainly has been for me.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
One year old - the best day of my life (a time for reflection)
Last Wednesday it was my B's first birthday - I really can't believe it. It's probably the most clichéd of phrases but it's true - the time has absolutely flown by. It really does only seem like yesterday that W and I both went through this crazy experience called childbirth for the first time.
Tuesday April 25th 2006 - I remember waking from sleep somewhere around 6am, but it might have been earlier. W was sitting upright in bed and was wide awake - she clearly had been awake for some time. She said she felt different. Not being the most coherent of people in the morning, I don't think that statement sunk in straight away - after all, there were still a couple of weeks to go until the due date. So I think I possibly mumbled and grunted something in response and rolled over in an attempt to continue my quest to pogo stick around the Antarctic while wearing a pirates uniform with Elijah Wood, Chelsea Clinton and Top Cat as companions. All this while singing the chorus to 'Wake Me Up Before You Go Go.'
Or something.
Still, it wasn't long before I was sat up as well. I made a move to put the laptop on. I figured I might freak one or two people out on a message board I frequent by posting so early. Little did I know I would be doing that later that night for an entirely different reason. I don't think the laptop had even fully booted up before W was dashing to the toilet as her waters were breaking. Now it was definitely happening and the adrenaline kicked in. I rung the hospital and in a relaxed tone (obviously they do this every day), the Nurses on duty told me to bring W down to the maternity unit.
We got ready and I called W's Mum and Sister and here was probably my biggest regret of the whole day. I didn't call my Mum to get her to come down to the hospital as well. I would have loved to celebrate the birth of my first child with her there. Still, there's no use crying over spilt milk and after all, there's always next time. We took the trip down to the hospital (I'm so glad I didn't have to fight the traffic). The labour was quick (apparently it runs in the family and the second one is even quicker) and B was born at 11:47 if memory serves me well. Of course a lot went on in those six hours.
I didn't know what to expect in the months leading up to the birth and I was very nervous as I am queasy. I remember us going into what turned out to be the delivery room (for some reason, I thought we W would give birth in an operating theatre) and hearing a woman next door screaming so loud that I thought she might rip the whole maternity unit from its foundations. All of a sudden I felt very faint and I dashed off to the en-suite toilet, fearing more than anything that I was going to fail W when she needed me most. I thought I was going to be sick so hunched over the toilet in preparation. The irony didn’t escape me at all. There’s W, about to give birth and she’s worried and asking me if I’m alright
I wasn’t sick though, and to my complete amazement I got over it and was able to quickly regain my place at W's side. That's where I stayed as well for the duration - save for the occasional trip to shout at incompetent nurses who seemed to be oblivious to my calls for drugs. I can only assume that they thought there would be hours of labour left and there were other people more in need of urgent attention. Certainly for me, that part of it was more stressful than it should have been so god knows what it was like for W. We’ll certainly bear that in mind when choosing a hospital next time around. I continued to be as supportive to W as I could be and in fact, I was surprised how strong I was being.
Seeing the head beginning to come out was an amazing experience and another thing that I thought I would be too queasy to look at. However, I passed with flying colours. I was almost infatuated, probably because I knew my child had almost arrived in the world. When you consider how long it took to get to that point, the next part up until when B was born was like a 100-meter sprint.
Our daughter had arrived (I’m not sure what it was I saw at first as I thought it was a boy). It was too much for me to take and I was a gibbering wreck with tears streaming down my face. I felt invincible, but, more importantly, I was so proud of W and will always be for the rest of my life. I had the easy part and to be frank, I’m not sure if I could go through what she went through that day.
I composed myself (just about) and wandered out to the waiting room where W’s Mum and Sister were sat in anticipation. I had a smile on my face as I entered the room and they saw me. My mouth just about got the words ‘It’s a girl!” (or at least that’s what I was trying to say – I think they heard “issfagrillljkbmbooooooo”) and I promptly broke down crying again as they hugged me.
The rest of the day I’ll have to save for another time, but my little girl had been born and my life had taken a dramatic change, never to go back again.
Tuesday April 25th 2006 - I remember waking from sleep somewhere around 6am, but it might have been earlier. W was sitting upright in bed and was wide awake - she clearly had been awake for some time. She said she felt different. Not being the most coherent of people in the morning, I don't think that statement sunk in straight away - after all, there were still a couple of weeks to go until the due date. So I think I possibly mumbled and grunted something in response and rolled over in an attempt to continue my quest to pogo stick around the Antarctic while wearing a pirates uniform with Elijah Wood, Chelsea Clinton and Top Cat as companions. All this while singing the chorus to 'Wake Me Up Before You Go Go.'
Or something.
Still, it wasn't long before I was sat up as well. I made a move to put the laptop on. I figured I might freak one or two people out on a message board I frequent by posting so early. Little did I know I would be doing that later that night for an entirely different reason. I don't think the laptop had even fully booted up before W was dashing to the toilet as her waters were breaking. Now it was definitely happening and the adrenaline kicked in. I rung the hospital and in a relaxed tone (obviously they do this every day), the Nurses on duty told me to bring W down to the maternity unit.
We got ready and I called W's Mum and Sister and here was probably my biggest regret of the whole day. I didn't call my Mum to get her to come down to the hospital as well. I would have loved to celebrate the birth of my first child with her there. Still, there's no use crying over spilt milk and after all, there's always next time. We took the trip down to the hospital (I'm so glad I didn't have to fight the traffic). The labour was quick (apparently it runs in the family and the second one is even quicker) and B was born at 11:47 if memory serves me well. Of course a lot went on in those six hours.
I didn't know what to expect in the months leading up to the birth and I was very nervous as I am queasy. I remember us going into what turned out to be the delivery room (for some reason, I thought we W would give birth in an operating theatre) and hearing a woman next door screaming so loud that I thought she might rip the whole maternity unit from its foundations. All of a sudden I felt very faint and I dashed off to the en-suite toilet, fearing more than anything that I was going to fail W when she needed me most. I thought I was going to be sick so hunched over the toilet in preparation. The irony didn’t escape me at all. There’s W, about to give birth and she’s worried and asking me if I’m alright
I wasn’t sick though, and to my complete amazement I got over it and was able to quickly regain my place at W's side. That's where I stayed as well for the duration - save for the occasional trip to shout at incompetent nurses who seemed to be oblivious to my calls for drugs. I can only assume that they thought there would be hours of labour left and there were other people more in need of urgent attention. Certainly for me, that part of it was more stressful than it should have been so god knows what it was like for W. We’ll certainly bear that in mind when choosing a hospital next time around. I continued to be as supportive to W as I could be and in fact, I was surprised how strong I was being.
Seeing the head beginning to come out was an amazing experience and another thing that I thought I would be too queasy to look at. However, I passed with flying colours. I was almost infatuated, probably because I knew my child had almost arrived in the world. When you consider how long it took to get to that point, the next part up until when B was born was like a 100-meter sprint.
Our daughter had arrived (I’m not sure what it was I saw at first as I thought it was a boy). It was too much for me to take and I was a gibbering wreck with tears streaming down my face. I felt invincible, but, more importantly, I was so proud of W and will always be for the rest of my life. I had the easy part and to be frank, I’m not sure if I could go through what she went through that day.
I composed myself (just about) and wandered out to the waiting room where W’s Mum and Sister were sat in anticipation. I had a smile on my face as I entered the room and they saw me. My mouth just about got the words ‘It’s a girl!” (or at least that’s what I was trying to say – I think they heard “issfagrillljkbmbooooooo”) and I promptly broke down crying again as they hugged me.
The rest of the day I’ll have to save for another time, but my little girl had been born and my life had taken a dramatic change, never to go back again.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Should fish tank flinging become an Olympic event?
A short time before I met W, I was of the opinion that I really didn't need a mobile phone of any sort and despite being a gadget freak, I really didn't see the point. I'm not sure whether I classed it as a gadget or not. Still, one Sunday, after playing five-a-side football with some friends, I headed to the nearest town centre to pick one up - still in my football kit. I'm still not really sure what possessed me to do it there and then. I'm pretty sure I didn't hear any sniggering at the time.
Five or six mobile phones later and I still don't really use my most recent one that much despite being on a silly contract with Vodafone. It doesn't tend to ring that much really and when it does, 95% of the time it is W. So when the display pops up and it's not her, I'm slightly worried. Especially when it's a strange time.
Like 7:27am on Tuesday morning. It was my mother.
Mum tends to get in a bit of a pickle quite easily and wears her heart on her sleeve (so that's where I got it from - never really thought of that before). Still, she sounded calm so that relaxed me. Nevertheless, something had happened. One of my brothers (S) had had a bit of an accident and was in hospital. Despite my mum not sounding like a frog being cornered by a vindictive cat - reaffirming the fact that everything was okay, my heart started racing. It transpires that he had gotten home early as a change to make some dinner for his family and do a few other chores - one of which that was cleaning the fish tank.
Do you know where this is heading yet?
He had dropped the fish tank on his foot. He had no socks or slippers on and, it transpires later, had severed the tendon which is connected to his big toe, meaning he could not move it at all (ouch). According to his wife, who, incidentally first asked how the fish were, you could see the insides of his foot. Unfortunately/fortunately (delete where applicable), there are no pictures. Mum said he had stayed in hospital overnight and they were going to operate that very morning. I got a few more details from her and said I would try to contact S or his wife later. I rung and told W who, being a lot closer, would be able to volunteer to help out if need be. Despite trying, I really could not help but think about nothing else for the rest of the journey. See my previous blog post about how I excel at being a worry guts.
Work was quiet, which didn't help, but I managed to get through to lunchtime and I spoke to mum who said he was out of surgery so I gave him a call. He sounded groggy but mostly because he had nothing to drink or eat up to that point. He had a cast on and his wife was there. He was hideously bored. S plays cricket in the summer - to the point that we see very little of him. With the season about to kick off, he had been told by the consultant/surgeon that he wouldn't be able to play for months, which pretty much rules him out of the whole season, poor bloke. I could easily pick out the disappointment in his voice. He'd need time off of work too - something he can't afford as he's so busy.
I told him by hook or by crook I would come to visit him later that day. Fortunately, my boss was really good about it and let me head off an hour early and W would be waiting at the station with B (the child minder couldn't keep her late as she had to go out). I thought I would lend him my Playstation Portable as even though he'd just picked up a Wii, I couldn't see him playing it much with his foot in plaster. I stopped in a videogame shop and picked him up a couple of games I thought he would like (Tiger Woods and FIFA). I tend to be quite a charitable kind of guy - even more so when things like this happen and, for a second, I even contemplated lending him my Xbox 360. Fortunately I saw the error of my ways and slapped some sense into myself ; - )
We arrived at the hospital and I put two bars of gold bullion into the car-parking machine (don't get me started) to cover us for a couple of hours. Made what turned out to be a silly decision to carry B instead of pushing her in her pushchair. Yes, of course we got lost. If my arms didn't feel similar to Mr. Fantastic of the Fantastic 4 before then, they certainly did when we finally got to the ward he was on. I'm thinking that if they ever need to shut down Hampton Court maze, there is a suitable replacement in this particular hospital.
On the way from pillar to post the fact hadn't escaped me that almost a year to the day, we were back at the hospital where B was born. Fate? Well, if you believe in such things. It was a nice visit - he seemed in good spirits. I passed over my PSP and some games, with a pack of Maltesers to sweeten the deal (deal, what deal? Exactly what am I getting out of this!!!) B was as good as gold and as charming as ever. We couldn't stay for a huge amount of time though as her bedtime was looming and she needed a lot of sleep to prepare for her birthday.
The emotions that tend to take over me when things like this happen never cease to amaze me. I get very protective of those I care about the most. I would tackle sharks (in true Batman, the television movie style of course) if it meant people I loved would be able to get away. It's quite possible that those feelings have really come to the surface even more since I became a father. It reaffirms to me that I know I am a good person and that makes me happy. It's certainly something that I need to remind myself when I'm not so sure. One thing is for sure though and that's that I will be doing my best to be an ace brother in the coming weeks and months because he's an ace brother too and us ace brothers - well, we gotta stick together.
Five or six mobile phones later and I still don't really use my most recent one that much despite being on a silly contract with Vodafone. It doesn't tend to ring that much really and when it does, 95% of the time it is W. So when the display pops up and it's not her, I'm slightly worried. Especially when it's a strange time.
Like 7:27am on Tuesday morning. It was my mother.
Mum tends to get in a bit of a pickle quite easily and wears her heart on her sleeve (so that's where I got it from - never really thought of that before). Still, she sounded calm so that relaxed me. Nevertheless, something had happened. One of my brothers (S) had had a bit of an accident and was in hospital. Despite my mum not sounding like a frog being cornered by a vindictive cat - reaffirming the fact that everything was okay, my heart started racing. It transpires that he had gotten home early as a change to make some dinner for his family and do a few other chores - one of which that was cleaning the fish tank.
Do you know where this is heading yet?
He had dropped the fish tank on his foot. He had no socks or slippers on and, it transpires later, had severed the tendon which is connected to his big toe, meaning he could not move it at all (ouch). According to his wife, who, incidentally first asked how the fish were, you could see the insides of his foot. Unfortunately/fortunately (delete where applicable), there are no pictures. Mum said he had stayed in hospital overnight and they were going to operate that very morning. I got a few more details from her and said I would try to contact S or his wife later. I rung and told W who, being a lot closer, would be able to volunteer to help out if need be. Despite trying, I really could not help but think about nothing else for the rest of the journey. See my previous blog post about how I excel at being a worry guts.
Work was quiet, which didn't help, but I managed to get through to lunchtime and I spoke to mum who said he was out of surgery so I gave him a call. He sounded groggy but mostly because he had nothing to drink or eat up to that point. He had a cast on and his wife was there. He was hideously bored. S plays cricket in the summer - to the point that we see very little of him. With the season about to kick off, he had been told by the consultant/surgeon that he wouldn't be able to play for months, which pretty much rules him out of the whole season, poor bloke. I could easily pick out the disappointment in his voice. He'd need time off of work too - something he can't afford as he's so busy.
I told him by hook or by crook I would come to visit him later that day. Fortunately, my boss was really good about it and let me head off an hour early and W would be waiting at the station with B (the child minder couldn't keep her late as she had to go out). I thought I would lend him my Playstation Portable as even though he'd just picked up a Wii, I couldn't see him playing it much with his foot in plaster. I stopped in a videogame shop and picked him up a couple of games I thought he would like (Tiger Woods and FIFA). I tend to be quite a charitable kind of guy - even more so when things like this happen and, for a second, I even contemplated lending him my Xbox 360. Fortunately I saw the error of my ways and slapped some sense into myself ; - )
We arrived at the hospital and I put two bars of gold bullion into the car-parking machine (don't get me started) to cover us for a couple of hours. Made what turned out to be a silly decision to carry B instead of pushing her in her pushchair. Yes, of course we got lost. If my arms didn't feel similar to Mr. Fantastic of the Fantastic 4 before then, they certainly did when we finally got to the ward he was on. I'm thinking that if they ever need to shut down Hampton Court maze, there is a suitable replacement in this particular hospital.
On the way from pillar to post the fact hadn't escaped me that almost a year to the day, we were back at the hospital where B was born. Fate? Well, if you believe in such things. It was a nice visit - he seemed in good spirits. I passed over my PSP and some games, with a pack of Maltesers to sweeten the deal (deal, what deal? Exactly what am I getting out of this!!!) B was as good as gold and as charming as ever. We couldn't stay for a huge amount of time though as her bedtime was looming and she needed a lot of sleep to prepare for her birthday.
The emotions that tend to take over me when things like this happen never cease to amaze me. I get very protective of those I care about the most. I would tackle sharks (in true Batman, the television movie style of course) if it meant people I loved would be able to get away. It's quite possible that those feelings have really come to the surface even more since I became a father. It reaffirms to me that I know I am a good person and that makes me happy. It's certainly something that I need to remind myself when I'm not so sure. One thing is for sure though and that's that I will be doing my best to be an ace brother in the coming weeks and months because he's an ace brother too and us ace brothers - well, we gotta stick together.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Illness and the people that refuse to accept it
I'm beginning to wonder if I should keep a count of how many of my blog posts start off like that. If I was a betting man, which I'm not, I get the feeling I could make some money out of it (*plots plans of world domination*).
There has been a reason for my lack of posting. Firstly, B has been ill. She got conjunctivitis and followed it up by a cough and a cold, which, being the caring, sharing baby she is, she duly gave to anyone who came within a few feet of her, myself and W included. Rumours of a restriction order being issued to prevent her from passing it on to anyone else by luring people close enough with her cuteness and then pouncing are unsubstantiated at this point in time. It wouldn't surprise me one little bit though.
Here, I have to be completely honest, I am a complete worry guts. Some people are just like that. I didn't deal with the illness thing brilliantly. I'm not entirely sure why though. I knew that she was basically fine as she still laughed, babbled and shot around the floor at a million miles an hour - just with snot flying everywhere. I just wanted her to get better and if there was a way for me to take it all away and give it to myself, I surely would have done that. Well, partly wish granted I guess as I felt completely rough before, during and after the Easter weekend. This meant that not only did I have to take time off of work to look after her (understandably, the child minder wouldn't take her), but I had to take a day off work myself and work the post Easter week feeling less than functional.
Now this is what frustrates me no end. I am on a six-month probation at the moment (more about this later). Any time I take off that is not part of my annual leave, I do not get paid for. I firmly believe that if you are ill you should not come to work - especially if you are 'lucky' enough to receive sick pay. It's something that I used to practice when I was a manager myself at my last company - I would actively send people home if they were under the weather (cue my old HR department slamming a blood red 'NOT MANAGEMENT MATERIAL' stamp on my personal file. I'm not suggesting for a second that if you wake up in the morning with a bit of a splutter that you should lunge for the phone and put your best croaky voice, having licked the carpet for added effect. Yet, I lost count of the amount of people in this office who were clearly ill and proceeded to charitably pass their germs around the office as if it were some sort of fundraising event. Oh for the want of something like duvet days!
Before people start pointing and jabbing at me with sharp sticks, calling me 'hypocrite', I believe my case is different as I couldn't afford to not be at work and the days over this six months where I have been at my worst, I have not come in. For someone that is, I believe, a reasonably healthy individual, I have been ill a little too much since I started my new job. There is a big part of me that fears that the 'D' word is rearing it's ugly head again and that's why I feel so run down. Of course, I'm sure the long days contribute to this and I'm fighting it all off with all the strength I can round up.
Still, my job hunt continues, even if, to date, nothing has come of it. To top it all off, my probation period has been extended for a further three months, due to the extra time it took to get my 'working head' on after being off for so long. I'm not bitter about it at all - I just felt a little down for half a day following the meeting with my Manager. I felt that I was letting W and B down.
It was a positive meeting however and my Manager said that if my performance currently was like that consistently over the whole six months, then I would have passed with flying colours. Trying to get positives out of what could be perceived as negative experiences is a good example of the fight I referred to a couple of paragraphs up.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
The Social Wonders of Xbox Live and the Internet (Part One)
Without actually checking back (yes, I’m feeling lazy today), I’m pretty sure it was around four and a half years ago that Microsoft turned console gaming on its head with the introduction of Xbox Live (XBL). For those that don’t know, XBL heralded the introduction of mainstream online multiplayer gaming on video game consoles. Before this, online gaming was solely the property of the PC gaming community and, like most things associated with PC’s, doing it was a complete pain in the backside.
I certainly dabbled once or twice, for a game of Quake, Quake II or Half Life, but there was no sense of community and it was a haven for the keyboard (or headset) warrior. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the experience, but it lacked that certain something that made you come back for one...more....go. Additionally, you were pretty much restricted to first-person shooters and strategy games – the two genres the PC excels in, due to the responsiveness of the mouse and keyboard combination.
XBL gave Xbox users a unique ID, known as a gamertag, and access to a friends list so you could play with people you enjoyed playing with (unfortunately, there are still a fair few idiots out there and I daresay there always will be). As the original Xbox was released after the Playstation 2, which, by now, was dominating in the market, there was a lack of decent games on XBL when it was first released. The biggest sin was that the flagship Xbox title, Halo wasn’t XBL compatible.
I signed up and received my software and headset (for my Birthday if I remember correctly). Excited about the release, I hadn’t counted on my shyness to play a big factor. My interest soon waned and I stopped using it, preferring the safety of the single player experience. Fortunately, this was relatively short-lived as a visit to a friend’s house introduced me to Tom Clancy’s Rainbow Six 3. Having never really been that excited about the squad-based shooters before, I found myself actually having fun, even if I was still a little quiet (although that might have had more to do with my state of mind at the time).
I quickly went out and purchased RS3 and Top Spin (unsurprisingly a tennis game) and got back online, with a new gamertag, which you’ll see at the top right hand side of this very blog. I immediately started having more fun and, with the release of Pro Evolution Soccer 5, I became hooked. Certainly, as far as the football is concerned, I won more games that I lost. Of course, there were many more games than just these and Crimson Skies and Halo 2 were worthy of a mention (the latter of which I still occasionally play online).
However, XBL for the original Xbox was still mostly a rough diamond. Microsoft moved it up a gear with the release of the Xbox 360. Here, XBL was more central to the whole ethos of the console. Multiplayer was practically an essential mode for all games released, and you could quickly access your friends list and see what they are playing with the press of a button. I personally love this feature as I guess I must have some hidden voyeuristic tendencies hidden deep down. There are many more features to XBL that I’m sure I’ll go into at a later stage, including the financial bane of my existence, Xbox Live Arcade!
Admittedly, I’m still fairly selective about who I talk to on XBL, but, as the companion piece to this post will show, when you look at the ‘before’ and ‘after’ aspects of my personality, I underwent a fairly significant change in the process.
See you on Live sometime!
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STOP PRESS (eh, what press?)
As I was composing this blog piece, Microsoft finally announced the release of the Xbox 360 Elite – and the worst kept secret in the history of the videogame industry. A souped up version of the current 360 premium, it’s a black console (for heavens sake, why?) with a black wireless controller to match. It has a 120Gb hard drive and an HDMI port which is supposed to run quieter than the current 360, which, admittedly, puts the engines on some small light aircraft to shame. Let’s hope that whatever tinkering they’ve done inside puts an end to the dreaded three red lights ‘ring of death’ that has meant a trip to the menders of many an owner’s 360.
No news on a UK release date yet (as far as I know). As a gadget freak, of course I want one, but seeing as I don’t have an HDTV and am likely to own one for the foreseeable future, I’ll probably go without.
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Tuesday, March 27, 2007
The Power of Three
Friday March 23rd finally saw Sony throw their fancy next generation hats into the ring with the release of the Playstation 3 – some four months after the obviously more important US and Japanese territories. This is not the first time that Europe has been let down by Sony and, well, let’s face it, it’s not going to be the last time either.
To see in this momentous date in the history of videogames, Sony pulled off a bit of a PR stunt up in London whereby it dished out free £2,000 HDTV’s to 100 or so lucky punters at Virgin Megastore in London. To avoid lawsuits from chavved up teenagers flattened by the sheer weight of all the gadgety goodness, they also all got a free taxi ride home. My initial thought was obviously, “bugger it, why did I have to go and break my time machine?” However, I then felt sorry for all the people not being lucky enough to live around the corner from the London Superstore who just had to settle for a measly Playstation 3 console. That’s potentially some seriously miffed customers Sony!
Still, it’s on the streets now, at the princely sum of £425 of your English pounds (without any free games, an extra controller, etc). By all accounts, almost a week later, it’s still freely available in practically any shop you would care to walk into (although don’t blame me if the shop assistant in ‘Cat-Astrophe’ the pet shop gives you a funny look if you try to get one there).
On a forum I frequent, and certainly since the release of the Xbox 360, I’ve been fairly critical about Sony in the run-up to this release and I still think that £425 is pricing a fair few out of the market, for most of us that don’t really want a Blu-Ray player, thanks very much. Most of the launch games are already available on another console and Resistance: Fall of Man, Sony’s shiny white beacon of a launch game has suffered from average reviews. The online side is light years behind Xbox Live (although the recently announced Sony Home looks interesting). I firmly believe that software will make or break this console and Sony will need some fairly decent tricks up its tweed-jacketed sleeves throughout the rest of the year.
Titles such as Singstar, with a fairly hefty catalogue of downloadable content and the forthcoming ‘Little Big Planet,’ recently featured in Edge Magazine show there is certainly potential and that Sony still knows its market and realises that innovation (and not just graphical updates of its big PS2 sellers – hello Killzone) must come with every jump to a new platform to ensure the market does stagnate. After all, Sony isn’t the new kid on the block anymore.
Regardless of this partly negative blog post, the closer the launch has gotten, the gadget freak in me can’t help but want one. The technology cabinet, divided into four under my spectacularly non-HDTV has a spare space and I think, no, I’m pretty darn sure it’s been calling out to me to fill it.
Now, where’s my screwdriver and wrench, I’ve got a time machine to fix!
To see in this momentous date in the history of videogames, Sony pulled off a bit of a PR stunt up in London whereby it dished out free £2,000 HDTV’s to 100 or so lucky punters at Virgin Megastore in London. To avoid lawsuits from chavved up teenagers flattened by the sheer weight of all the gadgety goodness, they also all got a free taxi ride home. My initial thought was obviously, “bugger it, why did I have to go and break my time machine?” However, I then felt sorry for all the people not being lucky enough to live around the corner from the London Superstore who just had to settle for a measly Playstation 3 console. That’s potentially some seriously miffed customers Sony!
Still, it’s on the streets now, at the princely sum of £425 of your English pounds (without any free games, an extra controller, etc). By all accounts, almost a week later, it’s still freely available in practically any shop you would care to walk into (although don’t blame me if the shop assistant in ‘Cat-Astrophe’ the pet shop gives you a funny look if you try to get one there).
On a forum I frequent, and certainly since the release of the Xbox 360, I’ve been fairly critical about Sony in the run-up to this release and I still think that £425 is pricing a fair few out of the market, for most of us that don’t really want a Blu-Ray player, thanks very much. Most of the launch games are already available on another console and Resistance: Fall of Man, Sony’s shiny white beacon of a launch game has suffered from average reviews. The online side is light years behind Xbox Live (although the recently announced Sony Home looks interesting). I firmly believe that software will make or break this console and Sony will need some fairly decent tricks up its tweed-jacketed sleeves throughout the rest of the year.
Titles such as Singstar, with a fairly hefty catalogue of downloadable content and the forthcoming ‘Little Big Planet,’ recently featured in Edge Magazine show there is certainly potential and that Sony still knows its market and realises that innovation (and not just graphical updates of its big PS2 sellers – hello Killzone) must come with every jump to a new platform to ensure the market does stagnate. After all, Sony isn’t the new kid on the block anymore.Regardless of this partly negative blog post, the closer the launch has gotten, the gadget freak in me can’t help but want one. The technology cabinet, divided into four under my spectacularly non-HDTV has a spare space and I think, no, I’m pretty darn sure it’s been calling out to me to fill it.
Now, where’s my screwdriver and wrench, I’ve got a time machine to fix!
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