Fasten Your Seatbelts

With the exception of the entry linked to from the BBC and another post that (for no good reason) became popular with comment spammers, my most successful blog post has been about John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme try-out show. While I'd love to imagine this was due to the fact that I'd composed a particularly interesting blog entry, or perhaps the entertaining quantities of gin I'd consumed when I wrote it, it's pretty clear that the key is in the words "John Finnemore". Cheesecake among strudels.

So it'd be remiss of me if I failed to point out something significant in the schedules this week: Series Four of Cabin Pressure begins tomorrow.

I won't go into details about the lengths I went to in an attempt to get tickets for a recording but, suffice it to say, the ticket unit might have frowned a little. Like the (very) vast number of applicants, I was unsuccessful so I'll have to content myself with enjoying it tomorrow at 6:30.

I'm not going to sing the praise of Cabin Pressure today. After all, many of you know me and have therefore received this lecture many, many times. All I will say is: if my highest recommendation and the prospect of an episode called "Timbuktu" doesn't incite you to listen then you are a lost cause.

+1 Fanbase

Like all people who are a little too interested in something, I have an irresistable urge to try to convert others.

This applies equally to knitting and to radio. I can't count the number of conversations I've had on the bus or in the office that include: "Have you been on Ravelry? Oh you must! It's like Facebook but for knitting." And, regardless of whether they're looking intregued or bewildered, I generally go on at length about how inspiring it it and how wonderful the free patterns are.

I'm taking an evening class at the moment and a few weeks ago the conversation turned to radio drama. I'm not sure why I felt personally offended when someone described it as "very much aimed at its audience", especially as that's a particularly irrational critisism, but I felt the need to passionately defend radio drama. And comedy. And radio in general. Until people started giving me the "Okay, shut up now," look that I'm quite familiar with.

Over the last few months I've been trying to convert a couple of people at work to the joys of radio listening. Oh, they already listen to Radio 4, but in the sort of hap-hazard way that I feel can only the result of insufficient dedication rather than a very sensible choice to just do more interesting things with their time. 

Also, as I mentioned some time ago, my brother-in-law told me that he'd quite like to listen to more radio comedy. Although I've had mixed success with my colleagues (leading to some random conversations on the subject of Yes Minister), I was thrilled when one of the first things my brother-in-law said to me this week was "I've been listening to Cabin Pressure". We then did a bit too much quoting and laughing about lemons and Birling Day. 

It turns out that the only thing better than enjoying a programme is talking to someone else who also enjoys it. Especially when that person can do a rather good impression of Douglas's tone of voice when delivering put-downs.

So that's +1 to the "Radio Appreciators" list. Okay, it took a couple of months and I'm still working on my colleagues but, eventually, a time may come when everyone I know has been converted to a radio listener. Or to knitting. I'm not bothered which.

Now With Added Pie

About a month ago I posted about Ed Reardon's Week and how long it had been since series four had been broadcast. Radio 4 then started broadcasting series eight a week later and I felt a bit stupid. Still, I'd tried out a few graphs before making that post and I ended up going with mostly bar charts because I thought it was the best, or probably only, way to represent the data.

Well, my anonymous commenter requested a pie chart - something I deride on an almost daily basis at work - and it made me think about whether I actually could use a pie chart to represent the number of broadcasts without losing the time component of the dataset. This was the result.

The chart (and all those that I post below) come with a massive set of caveats: The graphs represent distinct broadcasts of a series based on data from the relevant BBC page, though I've discovered that there are definite inaccuracies on those pages. Broadcast dates are taken from the last episode in a series. There is no data from before the mid-2007. The overall sector still represents the number of distinct broadcasts but the coloured areas have no direct significance. Each radial band represents a six month period.

Put simply: this isn't scientific. Think of it as a simplistic infographic that gives visual weight to more recent broadcasts.

Anyway, I realised almost as soon as I uploaded it that the chart was still inaccurate because it doesn't account for the original broadcast date and so I've now altered it slightly to remove the sectors which represent time before the first broadcast. Once I'd done this for Ed Reardon's Week I knew I'd have to do the same for more programmes because... Well, mostly because I'm not actually capable of leaving things like this alone.

The charts are  way more effective where there are a good number of series but I couldn't leave out Cabin Pressure and Bleak Expectations. And, just to make it clear, I'm not making a point with any of these (except for Ed Reardon  - series four please!). I'm just a curious data geek.

Bleak Expectations

Giles Wemmbley-Hogg

The Maltby Collection

Old Harry's Game

Cabin Pressure

Ed Reardon's Week

Oh, and I'm sorry for the inconsistent labelling and font sizes. I don't have an excuse except that I did the charts over a number of nights, on some of which I got bored of labelling.

A big thank you to my anonymous commenter for making me challenge my natural contempt for pie charts!

Accidental Fun

This is about radio, trust me. For a while it's going to look like I'm writing a post about my life. But it's not that, promise.

In April, I have to go to London for a training course. It's going to be quite hard and involve a lot of learning about complicated things that I don't much understand but it's also going to involve spending a week in London and that is No Bad Thing. I've been pretty excited about the prospect of this trip because, let's face it, I don't go away much for fun so if work wants me to go away somewhere for not-fun then at least that's a step in the right direction. After all, fun may well be had by accident.

Because the training is in London and I am on entirely the other side of the country, I will be going up the night before (because the alternative is me dragging myself out of bed at 3am and probably sleeping through the first day of the course, or at least the part where they explain all the important words). Anyway, this means I will be in London for five nights with nothing to do but to seek sushi/a restaurant where I can eat alone and not feel like a social pariah.

Obviously the first thing I did - before even booking my hotel - was to research what radio programmes might be recording while I'm there. Unfortunately, I'm not sure that Counterpoint is something I'd particularly enjoy. Oh well, I thought, no doubt I'll find something to do.

And I have!

I'm an occasional reader of John Finnemore's blog, on the grounds that he is a complete and total (brilliant!) genius. Cabin Pressure is hilarious. He's always both funny and clever on the Now Show. And John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme last year was fantastic. The man can do no wrong in my books. So, when I sat down to waste ten minutes before I had to go out, I was happy to see he'd posted something about the next series of his Souvenir Programme. Actually, not just something but something about preview sketch nights, in London, on fortnightly Sundays.

London. Everything fun happens in London, I sighed. And on a Sunday too. That's a really inconvenient day for getting back home from London. Well, wouldn't it have been great if I could have gone?

In my defence, this entire train of thought took place shortly after I'd got back from work and it had not begun with me contemplating what I might do with myself while on a training course for a week. So, as I clicked through the booking link out of sheer curiosity, the fact that I am going to be in London on a Sunday hit me like a goose hitting a number two engine over St Petersburg. 

So now I won't just be aimlessly wandering London looking for sushi. There are four other nights for me to do that. No, instead I shall be going to see John Finnemore try out material for his new comedy series that will end up on Radio 4. And all I have to do is find Kilburn on a tube map.

Best. Training. Course. Ever.

Get dressed you merry gentlemen!

I love days when I have absolutely no plans so I've been very much looking forward to today. About the only thing I needed to achieve today was, ideally, making mince pies to distribute in place of Christmas cards. Well, I procrastinated for a while but eventually ended up listening to the Cabin Pressure Christmas special while making these:
 

Excessive pies mark the official start of Christmas



I heard the Christmas episode of Cabin Pressure last year. I remembered that it was funny but I'd forgotten just how funny. There are a lot of things I find amusing but Cabin Pressure makes me laugh out loud. Frequently and at significant volume.

I was particularly happy to hear at the end of the episode that they'll be broadcasting the first series from next week because I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't warm to it at first and I've only heard some of the more recent episodes. I don't really have any excuse except that I didn't give it the time it deserved at first because I thought that it might be too much situation and not enough comedy. Once again: idiot.

The Christmas special was the perfect example of properly funny jokes balanced by the interesting relationships between the characters. I think it's this that makes Cabin Pressure so great: the characters are more than just a method of getting jokes across, they feel like people you might very well know from your office. Or possibly eccentric members of your extended family. I was going to say "except maybe Arthur" but then I remembered a colleague, a nice girl but she had more in common with Arthur than any real person should.

Though I'm not really in a position to comment, today I was entirely empathising with Arthur and his overwhelming love of Christmas. As someone who has constructed decorations for her office out of garden canes, tacking thread and paper snowflakes made from old application forms, I think that an umbrella decorated with milk pots sounded pretty amazing.

Considering some of the more bleak Christmas radio (I'm looking at you, The Holly and the Ivy) it was fantastic to have something so decidedly pro-festive-spirit to listen to while making endless mince pies. Thank you John Finnemore, you genius, and thank you 4Extra for broadcasting it this week.


sucky stripes



Anyway, about the only other thing I've managed to achieve today is a test knit panel for my hat. Charting it actually proved to be easier than I thought but what's really giving me trouble now is colours. The default blue for 4ply is a boring powder blue and it's cramping my stripes. I suck at colour at the best of times and this is not the best of times. Plus the panel has turned out waaaay to small so I'll be knitting another, with bigger needles. And possibly more adventurous stripes now that I have caved in and bought another ball of wool. Unfortunately, it's a oddly bright turquoise that I'd never normally touch but I can't shake the idea that I can somehow make it work.

Also, I'm beginning to wonder if the calm, plant-y design in my head might not actually be a bit sinister and thorny now it's approaching reality.

I think I may like it better that way.