benjamincrawford

Music ain’t dead

Posted on 29th January 2013 by benjamincrawford in Blog, Uncategorized

I love Spotify. I quite like being able to amaze older relatives, and the less technically savvy with being able to locate any song on the planet (other than any produced by Taylor Swift because her record label aren’t quite down with the kids yet) and calling it upon my overly complicated TV-laptop-surround sound based music system in my living room or on my mobile. However…

A couple of days ago, I inherited an LP player. Between us, Mandy and I have built quite the record collection by means of our parents combined, and it’s been something we’ve wanted for ages. After not having the time for the last few days, I am now sitting here listening to Albatross by Fleetwood Mac on a somewhat knackered 33 and a third. And it is exquisite. I’m struggling to comprehend why it’s better; is it that I have to select the size of the record followed by the RPM by which it should be played, is it because I’m obliged to listen to the songs in the order in which they were intended to be listened, is it because the thing hiss and pops of its own accord? I don’t know, it just sounds amazing. I’m sat here with a rather nice Spanish Rioja like I’m hearing music on my dad’s CD player for the first time circa 1994.

The music sounds fuller and richer, whereas MP3 just seems to have that tinny disposable disposition. A guy in a charity shop once told me it’s to do with the sound waves being rounded rather than squared off like they are in digital form. Lord known, he was probably talking tosh, but I’m sat genuinely reeling at what I’ve been missing out on.

I’m now listening to Bye Bye Baby by The Bay City Rollers, and it’s struck me what makes this special. Each record has its own personality; it ages like a fine wine until it eventually becomes unplayable (much like the said wine will become undrinkable) but the journey along the way has made it seem like an old friend. If a song comes on an album, and I don’t like it, I could faff with the arm until I find the grove of the next song, but then I find myself sitting here ploughing through until I eventually see what the artist was trying to tell me personally.

Is music dead? No, nowhere near, but it is throwaway. I bet I listen to about 70 songs per hour on Spotify, whereas writing this I’ve listened to 12. Here’s the song that inspired me to write…

Three’s a crowd. Of idiots.

Posted on 24th January 2013 by benjamincrawford in Blog, Uncategorized

Today I was obliged to speak with Three again. My one query was when does the contractual tie between us cease.

I hate Three with every bone in my body. For most companies I’m impartial, I don’t really care either way, some I quite like and some I don’t so much. But Three? I hate them.

The story starts last year, when on a whim I took mobile broadband with them. The sales guy excitedly reassured me that the coverage was excellent in my area, it was only when I plugged it in and tried to find signal that my disappointment started. I phoned them back to say how it doesn’t work to which I was met with… “Tough tits” (I am paraphrasing a little there, but that was the summary of the conversation. Sorry for swearing mum).

The latest conversation started out friendly enough, even the awkward language barrier didn’t prove too cumbersome to start with, the operator took me through security and told me when my contract would end, not soon enough it turns out, and then noted that I didn’t use my device at all. She asked why I wished to leave, to which I replied that I think Three is one of the worst companies trading today, and fall under the category of Cowboys. Short awkward silence ensued…

She then said that I may be entitled to some form of reimbursement as I hadn’t been using my piece of Internet Three so kindly puts aside for me every month. I was aghast that the company I loath was going above and beyond to please me, the customer. I was put on hold whilst it was calculated just how much this would be. I was excited at this unexpected reconciliation.

Then she came back to me… I was dumbfounded. It was like something out of Phone Jacker. She began by saying I was a valued customer and that she could “Upgradings me to the latest iPad”, this is after I’ve told her we’ve already got a tablet PC and I despise Three. Now I didn’t lose my temper (for once), I just hung up, my gripe isn’t with that particular operator, but with the decision makers at Three.

I read a blog on their website, explaining the strategy for keeping contact centres out in India. Of course they cite how it keeps things cheap, which then enables them to plough more money into their ‘Big-boned network’, but it’s such an archaic business model. Get a bunch of guys, give them ridiculous sales targets, which in turn then forces them to force products upon customers, paying them well below the UK minimum wage for the privilege. Sure, short term it’s a sure-fire way to make a pile of money, but would I ever use Three again? Not on your nelly. Roll on 31 March…

I used to be indecisive, but now I’m not so sure…

Posted on 21st January 2013 by benjamincrawford in Blog, Uncategorized

Call any company, and seemingly the person you first speak to has neither the mental capacity, nor the privileges to make any decision whatsoever. It becomes annoying then if your query requires them to step away from the idiot proof call flow diagrams they are entrusted to follow. But my gripe with decision making doesn’t just exist in the telecommunicative world, it exists in the real world too.

The inability to make a decision exists everywhere, with people desperately looking at others willing to make a decision on their behalf, and it not just annoys me, it makes me positively angry. Maybe it’s because I’ve had a section of my life where I went through some very specific training on how to make a split second decision that affects whether my trainee and will live or die. Maybe it’s because I’m confident enough to have faith in my decision to be able to justify them later. Or maybe it’s because I’m not scared of the consequences my decision will have.

Inevitably we all make unconscious decisions without a breath of hesitance, why then should we doubt the decisions we make professionally? I wish when people say something, they would commit to it, not because I favour that decision, but because that was the decision they made, and one which I based my actions on accordingly. People like to hide when a decision has to be made; hide behind others, hide behind ‘seniority’ and say the power is out of their hands, hide behind procedure, or just plain old hide.

I find it funny then that it’s these very people that then brag about making a crucial business decision when it has long since been made for them. This pawning of someone else’s courageousness, what a funny decision that is to make.

The white stuff

Posted on 14th January 2013 by benjamincrawford in Blog, Uncategorized

I’m sat looking at pretty snow falling, and can’t help but laugh as it has become the central topic of conversation in the office. Will the schools close? Who will be working from home? Where can you buy bread if more than a centimetre of the stuff falls? I think people quite enjoy the panic it causes.

I love snow. At school when I was young, I remember a dozen noses pressed to the window, willing every flake to cling to the ground so the inevitable snowball fight could ensue, and then allow the subsequent day off from school. I love skiing for much the same reason, and also that it’s broadly comparable to riding a motorbike, being outside in the elements and at speed.

And so the next few days must bring two of my loves together, motorcycles and snow; not two things renowned as being remotely harmonious. For some reason at this time of year I always feel the need to seek reassurance from others, usually via internet chat forums, asking complete strangers their advice on staying upright in these slippery conditions. Of course I’m always met with the cries of being nuts, mentally deficient or just being an idiot; but in my eyes the only idiots are the ones that reserve their motorbikes for perfect conditions. There are however, a few riders out there slightly longer in the tooth that offer sound advice, like to let some air out of the tyres, or to use washing up liquid to polish your visor (it stops it fogging up) and it’s these tips that make it that bit more comfortable.

A few years ago, I was on my way to see a good friend in Bridlington, At the time I had a Yamaha Thundercat which was a really lovely bike, and the short wheelbase made it perfect for my slighter build. It began snowing as I approached Stamford Bridge and intensified as I plodded on. What is normally an hour and a half’s ride took me well in excess of four hours. I ended up riding at about 20mph on the grass verge because it was the one part of the carriageway that offered any traction whatsoever. 15 minutes after Stamford Bridge with snow drifts forming on my gloves I had to pull in for the first of many ‘hands and carburettor stops’, where I placed my hands on the exhaust to warm them, and let the carburettor thaw and the melt-water splutter it’s way through.

On one particular stop a slightly mad fella in a landrover pulled in and offered to put me and the bike in the back. After assuring him that neither the bike would fit, nor could only the two of us lift it, he left me to my desolate journey.

I made it in the end, after much shivering and stopping, and Andy being a true lad suggested a curry to warm me through, perfect suggestion and one which I embraced wholly.

Don’t presume or entrust

Posted on 11th January 2013 by benjamincrawford in Blog, Uncategorized

I recently took the motorcycle lent to me by my Uncle (Cheers Dave) for it’s first MOT in years. The usual place wasn’t answering it’s phone, and so out of hot-headedness, I phoned a different place to book it in. Of course it didn’t fare well and both sets of brakes had all but seized near enough completely. Rather worryingly that was identified after I’d ridden it to the testing centre! After a rather annoying foray with Castle Motors in Castleford (they took an entire week to do a few odds and sods, leaving my dear missus without a car, whilst lying to me that they didn’t have the parts in) I got the bike back.

I noticed that the breaks were much better, and for some time that was that. Over time however it grew on my nerves that the breaks were still binding a little, which after a fairly costly repair shouldn’t be the case. I decided to sort it out on a Sunday, and unfortunately (or probably fortunately as the case may be) Castle Motors wasn’t answering the phone despite their website exclaiming their openness on a Sunday.

I’m not one to be defeated as anyone that knows me will confirm, and so I took it upon myself to remove all three callipers, take all six pistons out, polish them until they resembled medical grade titanium (see my picture above), re-oil the seals, cleaned the piston housings to within an inch of their lives, check all the hoses and lubricate every moving part of the breaking mechanism. I reassembled the lot to find a slight improvement, but not anywhere near as I’d like. As I’ve said in a previous post my dad’s trade is as an engineer, more specifically building and test driving Challenger 2 tanks, and so if he can build a system to stop 63 tonnes of tank, I’m sure there won’t be much problem in stopping a bike weighing a fifth of a tonne.

I phoned him and described the problem and what I’d done, which was met with a resounding silence whilst grey matter was searched. Not an answer could be found; rather miraculously I’d addressed every possible flaw in the albeit simple system.

The next day when giving my eyes a 20 second rest from staring at the glowing rectangle as advised by my Optometrist I noticed the rear tyre on the bike looked a little too oblong for my liking. I went out with a pump borrowed from a fella that drives a Mk1 Mini to work (and consequently has to keep an entire workshop of tools in the boot, for when it inevitably breaks down) and found that the tyre wasn’t just down, it was completely flat. A few pumps later and the machine is like new.

My learning here then, dear reader, is that I presumed the mechanic would as part of an MOT at least check the state of the pressures, even visually. I know I know, it’s something that I should be doing on a regular basis anyway, but therein lies my lesson. Don’t presume people will do their jobs, and don’t entrust their perceived technical ability over common sense.

I do however have magnificent pistons, it’s just a shame no one get’s to see them.

I don’t have to pedal

Posted on 8th January 2013 by benjamincrawford in Blog, Uncategorized

As far as I can ascertain, the fewer the number of wheels on a motorised vehicle, the more interesting it is. I like cars, but then again I like windows 8. I’m passionate about neither one, not in any way shape or form; they’re both utilitarian, they’re both comfy, but since when has comfy ever been ground-breaking in anyway (lazyboy chairs aside)?

I learnt to ride two wheels on a friend of the family’s bike. It was a monumental discovery for me, a two wheeled instrument could remain upright when a little forward motion was applied, and the faster you went the steadier it became. Genius. Well not really, it’s a combination of gyroscopic and centripetal forces, but at eight years old, that’s not something I was particularly concerned about. My first bike was a shiny red Raleigh, and it was sublime. Although second hand, I cannot remember a single acquisition since that has stirred such excitement. This bike could go as fast as I wanted it to, and it nearly always went at TOP speed. It had 10 gears too, and meant I could go up to about 80 miles an hour (I seem to remember bragging in the playground the day after I got it). It was amazing, I spent every waking hour that I didn’t spend at school or eating on it, I must’ve covered hundreds of miles in it’s life time.

Years later with my childhood best friend, I found myself excitedly pushing a motorbike down the lane to the fields at the back. His dad acquired a 50CC dirt bike with no breaks or clutch. To start it, two abiding friends had to push you at full speed, followed by a hearty kick up into second gear and you were away. It is like riding a push bike, but you don’t have to pedal. I think that is the main attraction every motorbike rider in the world shares, you don’t have to pedal. It seemed to float above ground that a normal push bike would stumble upon, in hindsight I probably never went above 20 miles an hour, but at the time I was setting land speed records and it was the most incredible feeling.

To this day, as I swing my right leg over the seat of a motorcycle (OCD thing, it’s never my left), and punch down into first gear, I turn into an eight year old boy again, about to embark on the latest around the world (Austhorpe) adventure.

Climbing into a car I can’t help but feel constrained, it’s hard to describe to people who don’t ride. They perceive motorbikes as dangerous, or too cold, or too hot, but to me it’s no different than having to put up with traffic, or clearing the windscreen of ice, or parking, all things I don’t have to bother with on two wheels.

With a load of new motorcycle licence rules, they’ve just made it even harder to join the elite club that I love, and so when I see another biker coming my way I emphatically nod, and more often than not I receive one back, because they have probably got the same grin on their face as me, even in the middle of January in the pouring rain, because we’re not having to pedal.

The twelfth day of Christmas

Posted on 6th January 2013 by benjamincrawford in Blog, Uncategorized

So today is the last day of Christmas. But looking at houses being stripped of their glittery adornments, with no peep of bells on the radio the annual madness that is Christmas is forgotten much sooner than it should.

I took my tree down last week, not because my full name is in fact Ebenezer, but because our perverse dog gets his kicks out of rubbing against the branches, systematically spreading needles all over the entire house in much a similar way to that of sand finding it’s way into every nook and cranny after a visit to the beach.

I find the start of January an entirely odd time, technically we should still be celebrating the festive time, yet it’s forgotten as soon as it graces us. We’re a fickle sort, us humans, constantly chasing something or following a trend, and as soon as something comes to a close, it’s onwards with little regard for what’s just been.

I think it’s quite easy to be depressed at this time, especially considering this was the first Christmas with our son which made it all the more spectacular, but I say on the 6 January give Wham one more spin, just because you’re well within your rights, and no bad luck will befall you. Here’s one last festive gift from me to you…

Four eyes

Posted on 4th January 2013 by benjamincrawford in Blog, Uncategorized

Today, I have to get glasses. At least that’s what I think, I’m starting to screw my face up when looking at any godforsaken monitor, and so it’s up to an optician to use his mechanical wizardry and decide to what extent I’m loosing my sight.

There is extensive research that using monitors does not harm your vision. Absolute twaddle I say, as a species we’re designed to be running about a forest chucking spears at anything that moves, we’re not designed to be sat in a posturally correct position for nine hours a day, staring into a goggle-box of pixels. My father is an engineer, my mother a nurse (excellent work being made on breaking stereotypes) and their optical enhancement wasn’t required until their forties, I’m only 24 and I’m already struggling to see what I’m typing right now, even though it’s a meagre 18 inches from my nose.

Are we destined to become a race of four-eyed nerds, that can’t actually see what’s going on around us and rely on the artificial refraction of light?

On a serious note though, are frameless glasses still stylish, or are they meant to be worn astride the noses of German car designers and polo-neck wearing company directors trading under the pretence of selling fruit?

Men as mothers

Posted on 28th December 2012 by benjamincrawford in Blog, Uncategorized

So I was out today with some friends walking in the dales. Mandy wasn’t well so manned the fort at home; and so I was entrusted with Jasper and all the paraphernalia associated with escorting a child including the new baby carrier-rucksack thing.

About half-way round we stopped in a pub for a bit of nosebag, and upon departure asked if I may use one of the ante-rooms to install my son into the rucksack (something which he hates on a par with being strapped into his car seat or my loathing of Three). A woman then stood and watched me do it, and then when Jasper inevitably kicked off, she asks patronisingly “Are you alright?”

I felt like saying, “No, I’ve made it through 24 years of my life, managed to secure a mortgage, a long term partner, a decent job, am told I’m doing a good job at being a dad, and even managed to navigate to The Red Lion in Burnsall, but now I’ve come up against a rucksack, all of a sudden I’m flummoxed and will grind to an emotional standstill, staring blankly at the plethora of straps and buckles.”

Now I’m sure she was trying to be helpful, and probably didn’t even mean it flippantly, however why is it in the bra-burning age we live in, men still can’t be entrusted with our own children?

I know gender-based stereotypes still exist; men are better drivers (unfortunately we know this and because we wear our egos on our sleeves, have more accidents) and women are better at sewing, not because they have mechanical sympathy for the sewing machine but because they’ve a fine eye for detail (and the small hands necessary to thread a needle). All I proclaim is that some men (maybe not all) can be just as good parents as their female counterparts. So when I’m spending time with my son, don’t presume I’m being a bad parent, because I’m just about certain I’m doing a better job than a lot of mothers.

A daunting task ahead…

Posted on 20th December 2012 by benjamincrawford in Blog, Uncategorized

So I think I’m going to write a book. It’s a fairly daunting task; amongst being a parent, a partner, work commitments, trying to cling on to the last slithers of a social life and writing this blog, I don’t have too much spare time these days.

I love writing, it’s what I do for a living, and this blog has kind of become an informal hobby. So why then would I want to take on yet more literary burden?

My friend Hannah commended me on this very blog just last night, and other friends have gone out their way to tell me they like it too, and so it’s one thing that I enjoy writing, it’s quite another that people like to read my musings.

The hardest part I now face is not picking a publisher, or finding time (that comes next); it’s to find a concept, what on earth do I write about? I haven’t yet asked for any audience participation, I find that cringe-worthy, but now my dear reader comes your turn, I wish to read your musings. Tell me what to write about!