Greenwich Meany Time

Got to Greenwich for day one of our conference on time, and without getting lost even once.

I know!

Still, my ability to force otherwise-normal people to ask bizarre questions came to the fore when I got there. I was standing at a road crossing, when a couple came to join me – a black youngish woman with a headscarf and kickass boots, and a tall bald white bloke.

“Scuse me?” said the woman out of nowhere. I unplugged my iPod.

“Eh?”

“Are you a doctor or a lawyer?” she asked – for all the world as though those were the only options available to me. It should probably be explained that I was wearing the Master Suit, my big cowboy-style hat, and carrying a pilot’s flight bag at the time, looking pretty much like Wild Bill Accountant.

“Err...neither,” I said. “I’m a journalist.”

Fair enough, right?

The guy peered at me closer.

“Here or in Ireland?” he asked.

No, really.

“Err...here,” I said. “That’s kinda why I’m...y’know...here.”

“Oh,” he said, as if this hadn’t occurred to him. “Hmm. Not News of the World, I hope!”

“Ahahahaha...” I laughed falsely. The traditional response of moderate religious believers faced with their more extreme cousins came instantly to mind – “Oh, they’re not proper journalists” – but i bit it back because I wouldn’t accept it as valid from them. Also, my pal Alistair - who has undoubtedly been under surveillance at several points by the creepy excuses for journalistic endeavour employed by the Murdoch empire mentioned to me via Twitter this morning that, as a firend of his back in the late 90s, I may very well have come at least briefly under the scope of their investigations myself...So in the end I just said “Nonono...” and moved the Hell on.

Later in the day, I ended up listening to an Asian guy give a presentation on 19^th Century Liverpool. It was a little unfortunate that he pronounced his “s” sounds as “sh” sounds, so every time he referred to “the city”, you could hear the room cringe...Or turn around, wondering who’d let Sean Connery into the building.

In other news, the BBC is today reporting a study that claims “fat fucks in older life have crappier brains” – I’m paraphrasing, of course – read the report here.

The idea is something that my mother has occasionally thrown out there as an oversimplification. “Lose weight,” she says, “and you won’t be so stupid...”

The new study claims that those who have higher BMIs and bigger waistlines over the age of 60 have lower mental agility. But apparently, lifestyle changes can help you get your mental agility back...

Ya-huh...

Have to say, this whole “slim yourself smarter” schtick didn’t impress me when Ma tried to convince me I had “fat on the brain”, and it didn’t impress anyone else with any notable improvement in my intellectual skills as I started losing the weight, so I guess we’ll have to wait and see (or indeed “weight and see”) whether I turn into a superfast mental Olympian as the weight goes down from here...

Anyone holding their breath?