The Gnome is impressed. Less than 24 hours after his concern about a lack of Argentinian and antipodean readers was published, small (but significant) dots have appeared within Argentina and Tasmania.
G'day and/or buenos tardes to you both.
Sunday, May 21
Calling New Delhi
Perhaps if you are one of the 104 brave souls to have ventured onto this blog you will have noticed a world map to the right of the screen. A simple, yet to the Gnome fascinating, pictoral representation of the locations his musings have been accessed from.
One might not be surprised given his country of birth and current residence to see the large (well okay, not large per se, but larger than most...) dots straddling New York and dear old Blighty, but these are not the ones that fill the Gnome's heart with excitment and wonder.
It is the occasional visitor from exotic locales that intrigues him. For what reason did an itinerent surfer from Singapore access the site? What googled parameters could possibly be typed to ensure 'The Life of a Gnome' was a prominent enough result to warrant a mouse click from the Dominican Republic? Why has such a result not yet enticed any antipodeans or Argentinians to Gnomeland?
Pray tell us oh visitor from New Delhi why you were here. The Gnome, and through him the world (or at least a little bit of it), is waiting in breathless anticipation for your return...
One might not be surprised given his country of birth and current residence to see the large (well okay, not large per se, but larger than most...) dots straddling New York and dear old Blighty, but these are not the ones that fill the Gnome's heart with excitment and wonder.
It is the occasional visitor from exotic locales that intrigues him. For what reason did an itinerent surfer from Singapore access the site? What googled parameters could possibly be typed to ensure 'The Life of a Gnome' was a prominent enough result to warrant a mouse click from the Dominican Republic? Why has such a result not yet enticed any antipodeans or Argentinians to Gnomeland?
Pray tell us oh visitor from New Delhi why you were here. The Gnome, and through him the world (or at least a little bit of it), is waiting in breathless anticipation for your return...
City of Angels
The Gnome finds himself in Los Angeles. Not in the true southern Californian sense of spiritual enlightenment, but the rather more mundane definition of happening to be there.
Taking a taxi from the airport he found himself with a driver as locquatious as a former Trappist monk making up for lost time. A rare event, for unlike London where cabbies are renowned for a constant stream of pessimistic babble on the psychological trauma inflicted upon them by under-performing sports teams or government edicts, taxi rides in the USA are usually conducted in sullen silence. Indeed within the metropolises of America it is rare to discover a driver for whom English is even a second language, leaving the Gnome believing the famous poem on the Statue of Liberty reads:
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
So they can all become cab drivers.
In this instance though the cabbie was a veritable goldmine of witty repartee and one liners. For the 30 minute drive an abstract, free-flowing stand up routine was provided. A comedic journey from the foibles of small statured Hummer-driving Asian grandmothers, passing momentarily via a diatribe on the evils of cell-phone possessing Christian evangelists, to the atavistic pleasures of late evening fares involving young, attractive, drunk women (he claimed to have spent his entire life being told where to go by the latter, but at least he was now being paid for it...)
Rising to the occasion the Gnome mentioned he had been told LA stood for 'lots of arseholes' - a point upon which the driver readily concurred. Pausing momentarily for effect, he looked through the mirror to catch the Gnome's eye and continued '...but of course assholes are like oil. Technically we are self sufficient, but we still seem to import lots.'
At the time the Gnome joined in the laughter at this riposte, but as the daylight dims over the Hollywood hills has come to the conclusion it might well have been a rather subtle insult.
If so, then the driver is to be saluted. It is not often the Gnome is caught on the wrong end of an ironic comment and he feels all the more fondness for the States and its taxi drivers because of it.
Taking a taxi from the airport he found himself with a driver as locquatious as a former Trappist monk making up for lost time. A rare event, for unlike London where cabbies are renowned for a constant stream of pessimistic babble on the psychological trauma inflicted upon them by under-performing sports teams or government edicts, taxi rides in the USA are usually conducted in sullen silence. Indeed within the metropolises of America it is rare to discover a driver for whom English is even a second language, leaving the Gnome believing the famous poem on the Statue of Liberty reads:
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
So they can all become cab drivers.
In this instance though the cabbie was a veritable goldmine of witty repartee and one liners. For the 30 minute drive an abstract, free-flowing stand up routine was provided. A comedic journey from the foibles of small statured Hummer-driving Asian grandmothers, passing momentarily via a diatribe on the evils of cell-phone possessing Christian evangelists, to the atavistic pleasures of late evening fares involving young, attractive, drunk women (he claimed to have spent his entire life being told where to go by the latter, but at least he was now being paid for it...)
Rising to the occasion the Gnome mentioned he had been told LA stood for 'lots of arseholes' - a point upon which the driver readily concurred. Pausing momentarily for effect, he looked through the mirror to catch the Gnome's eye and continued '...but of course assholes are like oil. Technically we are self sufficient, but we still seem to import lots.'
At the time the Gnome joined in the laughter at this riposte, but as the daylight dims over the Hollywood hills has come to the conclusion it might well have been a rather subtle insult.
If so, then the driver is to be saluted. It is not often the Gnome is caught on the wrong end of an ironic comment and he feels all the more fondness for the States and its taxi drivers because of it.
Sunday, May 14
American Sports
The Gnome supposes it is inevitable he will have to write about American sports eventually, so feels it is as well to get it over with now.
What are they all about?
No, really- somebody explain it. How does the world's only superpower end up with a monopoly on the world's most boring sports? Sports that virtually nobody else plays, or has any interest in?
American Football
A game resembling rugby with all the speed, skill and excitement surgically removed. American Football had a brief moment in the sun a decade or so ago in England when a (then) new television channel started showing highlights. It did very well, and understandably so. It is a great spectator game when something is happening. The trouble is, things only actually happen for about 30 seconds and then there is a 5 minute break. As soon as games were shown live everybody turned off through boredom.
Baseball
As an avid cricket fan, the Gnome can sort of understand the fascination with baseball. The traditions, the history, the slow pace, the arcane rules. All of these are familiar to anyone brought up on cricket. But you have to ask the question - why not just play cricket? All the other ex-colonies took it up, what made the USA think rounders was a more suitable sport? And as for the concept of a 'World' Series between Toad Suck, Arkansas and Glory Hole, Montana, no comment will be made.
NASCAR racing
Come on, be serious now. Driving round and round an oval track for two hours is not a sport. It's dull. More fun can be had watching the M25 around London - at least people occasionally try to overtake each other and sometimes even change lanes. There's also more chance of seeing a life threatening accident which, let us all be honest, is the only reason anyone watches motor car racing of any kind...
Basketball
The Gnome's strongest dislike is for this 'sport'. Grown men (rather too well grown if one is to be truthful) run up and down a small court and score every single time. So the score goes from 0-0, to 2-0, to 2-2, to 4-2, to 4-4 etc etc ad infinitum. Thirty seconds before the final whistle, every game the Gnome has seen has been tied on 110-110. These last 30 seconds determine the winner of every game... Basketball could, and should, be reduced to a 30 second game. Everything that went on before is pointless.
Whatever sport is watched on American TV, it is constantly interrupted by adverts. Despite his profession, the Gnome does not generally approve of adverts interrupting sports, but in the case of American style sports, he is sad to say the adverts are often far more entertaining than the sport they interrupt.
What are they all about?
No, really- somebody explain it. How does the world's only superpower end up with a monopoly on the world's most boring sports? Sports that virtually nobody else plays, or has any interest in?
American Football
A game resembling rugby with all the speed, skill and excitement surgically removed. American Football had a brief moment in the sun a decade or so ago in England when a (then) new television channel started showing highlights. It did very well, and understandably so. It is a great spectator game when something is happening. The trouble is, things only actually happen for about 30 seconds and then there is a 5 minute break. As soon as games were shown live everybody turned off through boredom.
Baseball
As an avid cricket fan, the Gnome can sort of understand the fascination with baseball. The traditions, the history, the slow pace, the arcane rules. All of these are familiar to anyone brought up on cricket. But you have to ask the question - why not just play cricket? All the other ex-colonies took it up, what made the USA think rounders was a more suitable sport? And as for the concept of a 'World' Series between Toad Suck, Arkansas and Glory Hole, Montana, no comment will be made.
NASCAR racing
Come on, be serious now. Driving round and round an oval track for two hours is not a sport. It's dull. More fun can be had watching the M25 around London - at least people occasionally try to overtake each other and sometimes even change lanes. There's also more chance of seeing a life threatening accident which, let us all be honest, is the only reason anyone watches motor car racing of any kind...
Basketball
The Gnome's strongest dislike is for this 'sport'. Grown men (rather too well grown if one is to be truthful) run up and down a small court and score every single time. So the score goes from 0-0, to 2-0, to 2-2, to 4-2, to 4-4 etc etc ad infinitum. Thirty seconds before the final whistle, every game the Gnome has seen has been tied on 110-110. These last 30 seconds determine the winner of every game... Basketball could, and should, be reduced to a 30 second game. Everything that went on before is pointless.
Whatever sport is watched on American TV, it is constantly interrupted by adverts. Despite his profession, the Gnome does not generally approve of adverts interrupting sports, but in the case of American style sports, he is sad to say the adverts are often far more entertaining than the sport they interrupt.
Monday, April 17
More Shopping Confusion
And whilst the Gnome is on the subject of Manhattan shops, why is it not possible to buy wine and beer in the same shop?
Beer, but not wine or spirits, is sold in supermarkets. Wine and spirits, but not beer, is sold in liquor stores...
Is this some health conscious attempt to help Manhattanites avoid the disaterous consequences of mixing the grape and the grain?
Beer, but not wine or spirits, is sold in supermarkets. Wine and spirits, but not beer, is sold in liquor stores...
Is this some health conscious attempt to help Manhattanites avoid the disaterous consequences of mixing the grape and the grain?
Carrier Bag Wastage
Can anyone explain this to the Gnome?
When going to a supermarket, deli or indeed any form of food shop in New York, your purchases are placed inside a plastic bag, which in turn is then placed inside another plastic bag...
Would it not be more sensible, and indeed cost effective, just to make the individual carrier bags strong enough to withstand the rigours of carrying more than one soup can at a time?
Answers on a postcard please...
When going to a supermarket, deli or indeed any form of food shop in New York, your purchases are placed inside a plastic bag, which in turn is then placed inside another plastic bag...
Would it not be more sensible, and indeed cost effective, just to make the individual carrier bags strong enough to withstand the rigours of carrying more than one soup can at a time?
Answers on a postcard please...
Photography Lesson
There is a delicatessen near to the Gnome office that is somewhat of a celebrity location. The 'Hello Deli' is located next door to a TV studio, where it attracts in-the-know tourists in droves. They come to have their photograph taken outside this televisual landmark for the Gnome understands a regular late night chat show often films a skit with its guests there. Cameras are certainly often seen there, with lines of patient fans and the occasional papparazzi throng surrounding them.
Now the Gnome is not by any stretch of the imagination a photography expert, but he has noticed a strange flaw in many tourists' technique. They generally leave one or more members of the party to stand in front of the shop and then cross the street to take the photograph from afar, presumably to get a decent wide angle shot of the shop frontage and family.
In the interests of research, the Gnome did exactly the same (although the blue anorak seen in shot is, he hastens to add, not known to him. One must maintain a certain level of dress code to be considered a part of the Gnomic Brotherhood...)
Can you see the problem? The blue anoraked figure is hardly recognisable - he remains a distant figure, forlorn almost, lost in front of the building. The Gnome is certain once the photos are developed back home in those areas of the country where all names are double-barelled, a huge sense of disappointment occurs when it becomes clear Bobby Joe and Mary Jane are all but unrecognisable.
Not one tourist to the Gnome's knowledge has taken the obvious approach to the problem. Take the photograph with your subject on the same side of the street as the camera. See how much space there is on the left of the Gnome's example? Frame it so the relatives are placed there and you can return to Montana or South Dakota secure in the knowledge even the poor eyesight of Grandpappy Billy Joe will be able to see you were truly there...
Failing that - learn how to use Photoshop...
Now the Gnome is not by any stretch of the imagination a photography expert, but he has noticed a strange flaw in many tourists' technique. They generally leave one or more members of the party to stand in front of the shop and then cross the street to take the photograph from afar, presumably to get a decent wide angle shot of the shop frontage and family.
In the interests of research, the Gnome did exactly the same (although the blue anorak seen in shot is, he hastens to add, not known to him. One must maintain a certain level of dress code to be considered a part of the Gnomic Brotherhood...)
Can you see the problem? The blue anoraked figure is hardly recognisable - he remains a distant figure, forlorn almost, lost in front of the building. The Gnome is certain once the photos are developed back home in those areas of the country where all names are double-barelled, a huge sense of disappointment occurs when it becomes clear Bobby Joe and Mary Jane are all but unrecognisable.Not one tourist to the Gnome's knowledge has taken the obvious approach to the problem. Take the photograph with your subject on the same side of the street as the camera. See how much space there is on the left of the Gnome's example? Frame it so the relatives are placed there and you can return to Montana or South Dakota secure in the knowledge even the poor eyesight of Grandpappy Billy Joe will be able to see you were truly there...
Failing that - learn how to use Photoshop...
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