"It's smaller than my head ... but only just!"
Once the Paradise game was over, we were rather cold and sore from sitting on the floor for so long. Luckily, the heating in the corridor was actually working this time round - when we first got kicked out of the cushier rooms in the Annexe, we only had access to the corridor for a while, and the heating wasn't working. However, even a heated corridor is not the most comfortable of gaming environments.
So, we headed out in search of warmth, seats and hot food - I had had neither breakfast nor lunch. We tried Pizza Hut first, only to realise that Euan couldn't eat anything from there: no pizza, because he couldn't stand cheese; no garlic bread, because he couldn't stand butter; and no pasta, because the pasta sauces were too much for him. Instead, we headed Maltman-wards, and were pleasantly surprised when, although the bottom floor was packed due to it being Saturday night, the upstairs had three tables free.
I ordered a 'Big Feast Burger' - bun, lettuce leaf, tomato, split pork/leek sausage, a fried egg, two burger patties, melted mild cheddar, grated red leicester, tomato sauce, then the top of the bun. It was at least three inches tall, almost six inches across, and I gazed upon it in wonder for it was the very embodiment of meaty, cholesterol-laden, vegetarian-sickening awesomeness. I felt slightly guilty eating it sitting across from Euan, who is vegetarian (meat being one of the many things he can't eat) - although he seemed more awed than disgusted, possibly at the fact that I intended to subject myself to this arterial assault weapon. Well, it had tomato and lettuce in it: it must be healthy.
I managed to pick it up without it exploding. It was smaller than my head ... but only just. Steph didn't believe I could actually manage to open my mouth wide enough to take a bite. I could, and I did (although I think I ejected a tomato slice out the other side.) Then I put it down and resolved to eat the rest with a knife and fork, lest a burgerslide occur.
It nearly defeated me, but in the end I managed to conquer it - and it was utterly delicious. Definitely worth £5.25, given that it was breakfast, lunch and dinner all in one. The Maltman's chicken caesar salad also induced foodgasm last time I was there. Tis a good place for a pub lunch - the dishes actually seem to be cooked (or at least, a good simulation of it) rather than the obviously microwaved stuff you get at Wetherspoons. Also, it tends to be hot - I've had a meal at Wetherspoons where they managed to serve me spaghetti which was both overdone (slightly crunchy around the edges) and lukewarm. It's a bit more expensive, to be sure (especially for drinks) and there's always music and TV (when we went, it actually turned into a disco halfway through the meal) but the food is not to be sniffed at.
---
I've been reading again recently - got a heap of books just after Christmas, and I'm devouring them one by one. I decided to read the first chapter of one of them (Singularity Sky) last night... hah. Yeah. When 8am rolled around, I was still reading...
Adam Roberts - Stone: this novel starts with an excerpt from an essay explaining the idea of quantum physics and probabilities, and continues from there. Actually, it's not all about quantum: it's also about nanotech, and what happens in a society where people live for hundreds of years, can manufacture anything they want, and where crime has been systematically bred out until it no longer exists. Of course, like Banks' Culture novels, utopias are only fun if seen from the perspective of a (semi-)outsider: in this case, the only existing criminal in the whole of the society. The book takes the form of a translated document (complete with translator's notes at the back): the collected letters of confession from the criminal to the titular stone, a small pebble inside a prison. There are some slow moments, but there's enough amusing general weirdness to make up for it. Actually, in general, the book really quite reminded me of a Culture novel (except with more physics) - which is by no means a bad thing.
Greg Egan - Axiomatic: I'd read Permutation City a while ago, which was cool but sort of tailed off halfway through as it shifted gears. I think I prefer this collection of short stories - Egan is a concept SF writer, one who takes a 'what-if' and builds a story about it. It works extremely well for short stories, perhaps slightly less well for novels. As in any collection, a few of the stories were a bit so-so, but some of them were really nifty - either from the story, or from the idea at the core of it.
Charles Stross - Singularity Sky: I read Accelerando a while back, and loved it - well, loved most of it at any rate: it got slow in the middle. So I bought two more: Singularity Sky is the first; Iron Sunrise (which I haven't read yet) is the sequel. It's an alright book, but I think it suffers slightly from switching between too many genres - hard SF exploring the effects of nanotechnological singularity and time travel (via faster-than-light drives), espionage drama, and tactical space military drama. The pace is a lot slower than Accelerando (unsurprisingly, I guess, given Accelerando's theme) and it has much less of the sharp wit which made me like the latter book - although it does have the concept of the only recognisable governmental structure left on Earth being the UN, which actually re-formed out of what used to be the IETF...
Neil Gaiman - Smoke And Mirrors: this is the only short story collection I've ever read which has a short story embedded in the introduction itself. The stories in this collection are great storyteller stories - when he was ill, and before I was struck down myself, I ended up reading a couple to Nate (Chivalry and Troll Bridge). I've seen and heard Gaiman reading his own work: he has a lovely voice and manner of reading, and I don't think my voice quite lives up to that - but nevertheless, I enjoyed reading them.
Terry Pratchett - Night Watch: actually a re-read - I read this ages ago, just after Monstrous Regiment, and was ambivalent on it: it's a good Pratchett book, but at the time it just didn't feel quite right. I guess it's the juxtaposition of magic and time travel with Vimes (possibly the least magical character on the Discworld). I was listening to Dave Greenslade's From The Discworld album, and wondered if I could write my own Discworld music - so I pulled a random book out (which turned out to be Night Watch) and flipped through to the middle, intending just to read a few excerpts to get me in the mood. A few hours later, I finished it, and flipped back to the start to read what I'd missed. Perhaps the beginning of the story put me off slightly the first time round, perhaps I'm just more starved for Pratchettia - I'm not sure, but I liked it a whole lot better on the second reading.
So, we headed out in search of warmth, seats and hot food - I had had neither breakfast nor lunch. We tried Pizza Hut first, only to realise that Euan couldn't eat anything from there: no pizza, because he couldn't stand cheese; no garlic bread, because he couldn't stand butter; and no pasta, because the pasta sauces were too much for him. Instead, we headed Maltman-wards, and were pleasantly surprised when, although the bottom floor was packed due to it being Saturday night, the upstairs had three tables free.
I ordered a 'Big Feast Burger' - bun, lettuce leaf, tomato, split pork/leek sausage, a fried egg, two burger patties, melted mild cheddar, grated red leicester, tomato sauce, then the top of the bun. It was at least three inches tall, almost six inches across, and I gazed upon it in wonder for it was the very embodiment of meaty, cholesterol-laden, vegetarian-sickening awesomeness. I felt slightly guilty eating it sitting across from Euan, who is vegetarian (meat being one of the many things he can't eat) - although he seemed more awed than disgusted, possibly at the fact that I intended to subject myself to this arterial assault weapon. Well, it had tomato and lettuce in it: it must be healthy.
I managed to pick it up without it exploding. It was smaller than my head ... but only just. Steph didn't believe I could actually manage to open my mouth wide enough to take a bite. I could, and I did (although I think I ejected a tomato slice out the other side.) Then I put it down and resolved to eat the rest with a knife and fork, lest a burgerslide occur.
It nearly defeated me, but in the end I managed to conquer it - and it was utterly delicious. Definitely worth £5.25, given that it was breakfast, lunch and dinner all in one. The Maltman's chicken caesar salad also induced foodgasm last time I was there. Tis a good place for a pub lunch - the dishes actually seem to be cooked (or at least, a good simulation of it) rather than the obviously microwaved stuff you get at Wetherspoons. Also, it tends to be hot - I've had a meal at Wetherspoons where they managed to serve me spaghetti which was both overdone (slightly crunchy around the edges) and lukewarm. It's a bit more expensive, to be sure (especially for drinks) and there's always music and TV (when we went, it actually turned into a disco halfway through the meal) but the food is not to be sniffed at.
---
I've been reading again recently - got a heap of books just after Christmas, and I'm devouring them one by one. I decided to read the first chapter of one of them (Singularity Sky) last night... hah. Yeah. When 8am rolled around, I was still reading...
Adam Roberts - Stone: this novel starts with an excerpt from an essay explaining the idea of quantum physics and probabilities, and continues from there. Actually, it's not all about quantum: it's also about nanotech, and what happens in a society where people live for hundreds of years, can manufacture anything they want, and where crime has been systematically bred out until it no longer exists. Of course, like Banks' Culture novels, utopias are only fun if seen from the perspective of a (semi-)outsider: in this case, the only existing criminal in the whole of the society. The book takes the form of a translated document (complete with translator's notes at the back): the collected letters of confession from the criminal to the titular stone, a small pebble inside a prison. There are some slow moments, but there's enough amusing general weirdness to make up for it. Actually, in general, the book really quite reminded me of a Culture novel (except with more physics) - which is by no means a bad thing.
Greg Egan - Axiomatic: I'd read Permutation City a while ago, which was cool but sort of tailed off halfway through as it shifted gears. I think I prefer this collection of short stories - Egan is a concept SF writer, one who takes a 'what-if' and builds a story about it. It works extremely well for short stories, perhaps slightly less well for novels. As in any collection, a few of the stories were a bit so-so, but some of them were really nifty - either from the story, or from the idea at the core of it.
Charles Stross - Singularity Sky: I read Accelerando a while back, and loved it - well, loved most of it at any rate: it got slow in the middle. So I bought two more: Singularity Sky is the first; Iron Sunrise (which I haven't read yet) is the sequel. It's an alright book, but I think it suffers slightly from switching between too many genres - hard SF exploring the effects of nanotechnological singularity and time travel (via faster-than-light drives), espionage drama, and tactical space military drama. The pace is a lot slower than Accelerando (unsurprisingly, I guess, given Accelerando's theme) and it has much less of the sharp wit which made me like the latter book - although it does have the concept of the only recognisable governmental structure left on Earth being the UN, which actually re-formed out of what used to be the IETF...
Neil Gaiman - Smoke And Mirrors: this is the only short story collection I've ever read which has a short story embedded in the introduction itself. The stories in this collection are great storyteller stories - when he was ill, and before I was struck down myself, I ended up reading a couple to Nate (Chivalry and Troll Bridge). I've seen and heard Gaiman reading his own work: he has a lovely voice and manner of reading, and I don't think my voice quite lives up to that - but nevertheless, I enjoyed reading them.
Terry Pratchett - Night Watch: actually a re-read - I read this ages ago, just after Monstrous Regiment, and was ambivalent on it: it's a good Pratchett book, but at the time it just didn't feel quite right. I guess it's the juxtaposition of magic and time travel with Vimes (possibly the least magical character on the Discworld). I was listening to Dave Greenslade's From The Discworld album, and wondered if I could write my own Discworld music - so I pulled a random book out (which turned out to be Night Watch) and flipped through to the middle, intending just to read a few excerpts to get me in the mood. A few hours later, I finished it, and flipped back to the start to read what I'd missed. Perhaps the beginning of the story put me off slightly the first time round, perhaps I'm just more starved for Pratchettia - I'm not sure, but I liked it a whole lot better on the second reading.