Getting some sort of grip

My room is now scattered with bits of paper containing scribbles of subjects to blog. As they are becoming less and less intelligible as time goes on, I'm going to clear a few now.

This means, of course, that the American Trip remains in abeyance, so all those waiting for my brilliant work on Sin will have to wait a little longer (although it's worth waiting for, I promise). This also ties in with the toy soldier and thoughts on World Aids Day, which will also have to wait.

These train journeys prompted thoughts about other Top Tens. I have a half-assed attempt here to list Ten Meals to Remember, which predictably foundered on the fact that the company, not the meal, made the occasion. Ten Theatre Highlights is worth pursuing, and Ten Books That Changed My Life proved difficult when I couldn't think of any. At least, there are none that made me leap to my feet and yell 'I am going to change my life right now!'

There are some with influence, including:

The Great War and Modern Memory (largely responsible for me being at Yale)
Giovanni's Room (the first gay novel I ever bought, with the benefit of being really good)
Orthodoxy (Chesterton illuminating the universe)
The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy (having read it at an early age, it probably influenced my writing style more than any other book)
Broadway Babies Say Goodnight (which got me into musicals)
The Grapes of Wrath (when capitalism goes bad)
The Once and Future King (my favourite)

Above that is a scrawl that reads 'if I were an element, I'd be one of those gases generally inert but which reacts violently to specific catalysts.' Bizarre, but true. At the bottom of the page is a list of names including the school's Head of History, John Barrowman, and Adam O'Byrne, whom I never met but who was at the Yale School of Drama and who was outstanding in The Skin of Our Teeth, one of my theatrical highlights. No idea what he's doing now.

I was going to extend the rant about dating websites, but today is not the time. Although I will note that I've never instantly gone for people named after London boroughs. And that the immediate vicinity of Euston Station is just appalling for coffee shops.

Then there's the Ashes.

What's going on? It's like 1989 revisited. And how often do teams run up 551 for 6 and contrive to lose? My undergrad college cricket team could have held out for a draw at Adelaide (okay, maybe not, but a couple of players might have stuck around a bit longer).

It does make you wonder about the BBC Sports Personality of the Year, which should be a memorial service rather than a celebration. Of course, we do have worthy winners: Ricky Hatton and Joe Calzaghe, for a start, if you allow boxing to fall within the bounds of 'sport'; but boxing doesn't have the hold on the nation that it did. That said, the big sports have done so badly that the boxers are in with a shot. Monty Panesar and Andy Murray had good years, but come on! The former took some Test wickets and the latter won an ATP Tour title, and that noise you hear is the bottom of the barrel being scraped.

Darren Clarke had an average year, typified by shooting three good rounds and then losing it in the last. One cannot but bow the knee to his courage in going 3 for 3 at the Ryder Cup the month after losing his wife, but Clarke himself - with what seems to be characteristic humility - has declared himself 'uncomfortable' at the possibility he might win on a sympathy vote.

Still, he'd be more deserving than Paul Gascoigne (SPotY 1990).

I helped conduct a mock Maths interview yesterday. I say 'helped conduct': I sat there and hoped my colleague wouldn't turn to me and say 'so, Mr Baldock, any questions?' as my knowledge of Maths could be accommodated on the back of a smallish postcard and leave room for the Gettysburg Address. I did however wonder if the collective noun for a group of loci was plague, remember the one Maths joke I know and begin to construct a mathematicians' songbook, which currently comprises:

Magic Moments
Can't Help Falling In Love With Euclid

all contributions, etc etc.

Q: How can you tell an extrovert mathematician?
A: He looks at your shoes when he's talking to you.

Next time, my collection of Physics jokes and Top Ten James Bond theme songs. Don't go away.