Nlogaxical – What am I doing here?

(Disclaimer; I’m still no Apple fanboi. iPads are pretty much the most pointless items on the planet, and whomever determines Apple’s pricing strategy needs to be sat down Clockwork Orange / Malcolm McDowell-style with eyes wired open, listening and watching the phrase ‘reduce your fucking price margins and help more people buy your stuff’)

Yes, another iPhone 4 review.  18 months on from getting my grubby mitts on an iPhone 3G and it’s been a rollercoaster of a time as far as ownership experiences go.

Jebus Phone V4

The original 3G review (from early 2009: ‘Is that an iPhone in your pocket or are you happy to see me?‘) listed a few shortcomings which I was hoping would be overcome in the new version.

• Size: The new version is possibly the most svelte, sleek device I’ve used.  Marginally narrower than the old phone but noticeably slimmer and with a flat underside (Dime Bar?).  Both the front and back are pure glass.  This phone is designed to be dropped by half of its users, who will then cry into their beers when it shatters into a thousand expensive pieces.
• Tactile Feedback: Already accepted that tactile feedback wouldn’t catch on. I’ve become used to the phone responding to my every touch in the same manner as an ex-girlfriend.  Not quite ‘recoiling in horror’ but close enough.
• Camera: The original 3G camera (2 megapixels, no flash, no zoom, no focus) was surprisingly good.  But this one is fabulous.  5 megapixels, a flash, digital zoom, touchscreen auto-focus.  Can’t help but think this should have featured on the 3G some 18 months ago.  Still, better late than never.  I’ll soon be drawn into using the front-facing camera for FaceTime – but only after Sambuca has featured in an evening.
• MMS: Fixed.  Has been fixed for months. Not that I use it much anyway.
• Ringtones: One of these days Apple will relent and do something sensible.  Give us the ability to just choose a stored track as a ringtone.  It’s not a big deal, yeah?
• Keypad button sizes: My fingers are still the size of Cumberland sausages. No amount of firmware upgrades are going to fix this sad, genetic fact of life.  If Apple are going be of any use to me, they should include cosmetic digit surgery in update 4.0.2.

What’s most impressive about this phone is the compact, dense, weighty feel.  When you hold the thing it just exudes high quality workmanship. The rounded and glossy casing of the prior versions feels almost toy-like in comparison. The screen is a huge improvement; bright, great contrast and a resolution which defies belief.  Also a beef which irked me through the past 18 months has also been partially fixed; battery life is now almost comparable with other phones.  So far with heavy use it’s proven difficult to bring the charge percentage down at any real speed.  As the months go on and the ‘toy novelty’ factor dissipates alongside this heavy usage, that battery life will seem even more improved.

One more thing; the network matters.  18 months ago I lived in an area where Vodafone 3G signal and speed were measurable using an abacus and a sundial.  Since then – and especially in the London area – O2 really dropped the ball (as the former sole provider of iPhones in the UK) and have taken Vodafone’s lowly 283rd place in the great 3G League of Speed.  Even with iPhones available on all networks, Vodafone seems very zippy in comparison.

So yeah. There it is.  Get this, or get something else.

For just over a month I’ve been living in the sleepy outlying reaches of SW London. Where I live now is some five or six miles from the capital’s own take on ‘The Prisoner’ – Barnes, where I whiled away some quite content years by the river. Much of my spare time was spent staggering between The Red Lion and The Sun pubs, leaping into the road to avoid oncoming double-width baby buggies or murmuring in quiet disbelief as the ever-suave Peter Bowles ambled by in a cravat and jacket. And I loved the place. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, didn’t want to even think about it.

The Old Man’s pub.

Down by the river.

Financial reality (amongst other things) eventually kicked in, and when looking to buy somewhere of my own, Zones 5 and 6 were the only realistic option. In some crazy ways I’ve sent myself into some bizarre suburban exile. Perversely that would explain why I’m finding it so enjoyable.

That and the absolute quiet on the streets, which is proving an odd and unexpected novelty to shake. For five years I’ve lived with the combination of plane, road and train noise. There’s never been a quiet moment on the streets. From 5am until near midnight, aircraft filled the sound gap when there wasn’t a truck, bus or train to be heard. Now – nothing. When walking around the neighbourhood I can pick up on other people’s conversations a hundred yards away. Living in the sticks has afforded me some weird sort of spidey-sense, and it’s as great as it is unnerving. Play GTA4 or Saints Row 2, find yourself a quiet corner of the map, and you’ll hear long periods of absolutely nothing punctuated by occasional voices. That’s just what it’s like.

Oslo 2010

Hip hip hurra!

First admission; I’ve not voted in a British election since 1997. During those intervening years I sat through two entirely depressing overseas elections, unable to vote in either. Watching as my adopted home participated in some barely watchable morris dance involving semi-hanging bits of paper and Floridian lawyers. Watching again as the populace made the same tragic mistake for a second depressing time, not even pausing for breath to take into account the insanity of a war started the previous year by someone who actually believed God wanted him to run for President.

So on a calm May evening in 2010, I’ve been able to exercise my democrat right here in a quiet London suburb. You don’t need to know who I voted for. But you need to know how good it feels..fuck..how exciting it can be, and how important the act of placing pieces of paper into plastic ballot boxes is.

I don’t understand those that don’t give a shit.

I don’t understand those that don’t vote, then whine for five solid years about some aspect of government.

I don’t understand those that don’t understand / WANT to understand.

It’s fine to claim tiredness from the coverage which fills the media for a month before the Big Day, and it’s understandable that some of the reporting is so unbearably awful it will drive a non-drinker to the nearest bottle of Shiraz. And our electoral system isn’t perfect. Some claim that the fate of the UK’s election result lays with a mere 100,000 people. And ‘first past the post’ isn’t ideal, we all get it. Many of the people we’ll vote for are dreadful human beings. We can’t stand them as our elected arbiters of moral decency. Many of them can’t stand us as the trustworthy, intelligent, informed voting public.

So it’s imperfect, but right now it’s all we have. And it’s ours. Not using your vote, not feeling a little privileged at having such a right – I find that baffling. If you’ve not voted, go do it. You have two and a half hours left.

(and if you’ve voted for the first time today..nice going, and welcome to the club )

That David Beckham, he’s so talented. First a footballing legend and now a genius at the keys?

Oh. PECKHAM. Nevermind.

Over the extended weekend I spent time in New York catching up with really good friends. It’s been some years since I was last there. I always missed it, but I didn’t realise just how much until emerging from the PATH station under the WTC Plaza site. The best thing about NYC is that it’s a walking city. And I walked stupid amounts, more than I ever used to.

Another thing I miss about NYC (and my old East Coast stamping grounds in general) – real seasons. This weekend it was mainly spring. Though someone pressed the ‘summer’ button by accident on the Sunday.

Four days of living what feels like every block and neighbourhood, and I’m a happy, physical wreck. I’ll be back in the autumn for more of the same.

Sitting on VS01, two seats plus two windows all to myself on a spring evening. Entertainment is a little spotty. I audibly yawned during the first ten minutes of Avatar (so that went well) and gave up on everything bar Family Guy. Sorry, yes, Family Guy. In ten whole years it’s not gotten old.

Anyway, there it is. In a few hours I’ll be safely back in the choked armpit of Newark, NJ. When I was younger, VS01 was the winged doubledecked bus I used to commute on to the east coast. Haven’t been on it for many years now, yet some stuff never changes here in the cheap seats. The wine still flows, the babies still scream in your ear and the cabin crew ponder about the guy in 49F who moved seats and now can’t remember if he really ordered the vegetarian meal or not. I missed the experience. Though back then we didn’t have the “volcanic ash will be 20,000 ft below us” reassurance. Shame – it would have added a little geological frisson and spark to the whole adventure.

Listening to OK Computer all the way through, just when I first flew this service way back when. “Let Down” is the tune that binds me to the flying along the turnpike and into Newark Airport. Even relevant in the lyric department.

–

And we’re back. First time in this specific part of country for a long time. Would like to say “it all feels so different” but I can’t, because one of the first things that I wanted to do was go find my car in the parking garage and drive it home, or what used to pass for it. Even now I forget. All the smells, the sounds and sights are so stupidly reassuring and familiar. Anyway. VS02 comes Sunday night. That’s the second half of the old story. It’s quicker than the flight out and with fewer daylight hours. In the meantime, loads of friends to see and a fair bit of catching up to be done. And shopping. I nearly forgot about the shopping.

The ONE downside about not living here anymore. Not getting to pop through the ‘US Residents’ aisle at immigration. Queued for an hour in the waiver line tonight, that’s how I remember I’m back on the other side of the tracks once more. No big deal, just bloody tiring.

[Content is R-rated. May contain adult themes such as 'money', 'responsibility', 'yet more responsibility' and 'oh shit what am I doing?']

This growing-up thing, I’ve been avoiding it for years. And in this financial climate where interest rates are barely higher than Gordon Brown’s approval rating, I’ve finally taken the plunge. All being well with the glut of legal and financial paperwork that my poor solicitor is wading through, I’ll be a homeowner in a matter of weeks. Plus horribly in debt to the tune of dozens of your Earth pounds.

As I sit here – my little clockwork brain doing backflips trying to figure out what the hell I’ve committed myself to – at the very top of my mind the headline thought is, ‘I’d love a cup of tea and a chocolate digestive’. Why is this? I’m told that at some point that this will hit me like a brick wrapped in a copy of FHM. When does this happen please? The anticipation is killing me, or chilling me out, or something.

Can I have my tea and biccies now?

Right, so now I have a new favourite place on Earth.

SW US Day 6: Death Valley from Andy Martin on Vimeo.

The final scenes were fitting to the trip. Driving back through the eastern gateway, the sun setting, looking like the entire sky was exploding throughout the valley behind me. And then it vanished behind a mountain. I drove back into town in a weird Nevada desert half-light. The day over, the trip done in terms of amazing things to see.

Southwest US 2010

And with that, I’m going to mill around Old Vegas for a bit, take a couple more pictures and head home. London and bills and househunting and post offices queues and signal failures at Battersea Park…all that reality awaits me.

Knowing how bloody far Monument Valley is from the rest of the world, 200 miles seemed like a sane distance to do before finding a hotel and a comfy bed. Which is why I’m typing this from the little tourist trap called Williams, on the route of old Route 66. There must have been HUGE snow here…the parking lots are filled with 15ft piles of it, melting and dribbling away in the spring sunshine.

Day 5: The Long Road South from Andy Martin on Vimeo.

Today, pushing west to the Vegas area (and beyond!) to Pahrump, NV. Going to check out Death Valley. Second of my ‘valleys’ on the list, and another one I’ve always wanted to see but never did get the opportunity.

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