Tomorrow could be boring

In a hole in the ground there lived an Englishman

Despite my grumbles about the Hobbit being made into three films instead of one, we did go to see the first of the new trilogy today and enjoyed most of it. I'm assuming that readers of this blog will have read the book so can go on to say that the way they handled the troll scene really irritated me. The whole point of the scene in the book (about the use of wit instead of weapons) was sacrificed in favour of an all-out action sequence, seemingly created by nervous film executives for the attention-span-of-a-gnat generation.

My favourite scene? When Bilbo's hobbit hole was being slowly taken over by strangers and he was trying to make his fury known by repeatedly saying "I'm sorry". That clip should be shown as an instructional video to people emigrating to the United Kingdom.

(Part of the same kit should also be Watching the English, Notes from a Small Island and a towel).

In other news, Lucy Mangan's columns in the Guardian Weekend magazine are always good but today she really excelled herself with a well observed, poignant column about the luck of the draw:

I consider myself lucky. But, despite all their wealth and security, I suspect our political and business leaders never think that of themselves.Do they never have moments when the weight of their astonishing luck makes them buckle at the knees and fall to the ground in gratitude? I suppose not. It can only be by thinking yourself entirely responsible for your own fortune that you can think of all those who are poorer, less successful or less independent of the state as personally responsible for theirs. Thus they deserve punitive policies and sanctions designed to remedy their immorality and sloth. A moment's honest thought, that's all it takes. I wager that you'll agree, because I wager you have them yourself. It would take an inhuman, almost sociopathic degree of arrogance and lack of imagination not to.

I have often wondered whether most people born into exceptionally lucky circumstances or those who have had the fortune of an unusually lucky break ever stop to think about the ratio of luck versus their own efforts; whether they have narrated their situation internally so that they deserved it, were entitled to it and therefore feel arrogant and protective about it. Many people in positions of power, especially in politics and leadership roles tend to hold "lesser beings" in thinly veiled contempt. Things like the workfare scheme in the UK have, quite frankly, been a disgrace.

Creative Illustration by Andrew Loomis

I've been writing for Blogcritics since 2005 and although I haven't had the time to be particularly prolific, it's gratifying to be able to write about the topics I enjoy and review books that look interesting. My latest review, "Creative Illustration" by Andrew Loomis was published today and I'm delighted that it's been selected as an Editor's Pick, too. That's the fourth overall and second one in a row. No pressure, then.

 

Work, book reviews, more work and Oasis

I still colour code things in my diary. A red dot means "travel or out of office". In the last few months I've been in Poole, on Dorset fields, in Finland and in London more than I've been at home or in any kind of stable desk-based environment. My diary looks like it's suffering from a bad case of measles.

Pros: Not boring. As one might be able to work out from the title of this blog, the threat of boredom is my kryptonite. I've become really good at transporting all my "must-have" items to almost anywhere. People who know me always come to me for those plaster, painkiller, spare lipgloss, herbal tea and chocolate emergencies.

Cons: I always manage to take on just a little too much, so something has to give. This blog, for example. Or my attendance at Rushmoor Writers. I seem to be always either packing, unpacking or doing laundry. I have failed to get back into shape because I am either "too busy" or too knackered. Still haven't solved the living-in-my-head problem.

I've just spent the last six days at a wonderful community project, playing something called the Oasis Game. I'll be writing a diary about it this week and pop it over to Blogcritics and here when it's ready. I had the opportunity to spend time with some of the most inspiring, hard-working and loving people in the world, including Saci Lloyd, a local author, Tamsin Omond, a well-known campaigner, our Brazilian, Spanish and Dutch facilitators and many amazing colleagues from Lush.

This experience was definitely unusual for me; I'm not known for campaigning or direct action. Being fairly introverted and wishing to stay behind the scenes has meant that I've not even considered participating in anything like this before. Last week left me feeling more than a little bemused at my own attitude towards direct action. After all, I love doing stuff and doing stuff RIGHT NOW. Nothing frustrates me more than fussy bureaucracy and not being able to act fast once I get an idea. (I just need to learn to accurately assess the time I actually have available. Right now I feel that I haven't got a work-life balance. More of a work-work balance).

In the meantime, Jane Austen fans might be interested in reading about Martin Owton's writer friend's book "The Unexpected Miss Bennett." It took me a bit too long to get the book review out there, but hopefully it will still help unite fans of Austen's work with Patrice Sarath's fiction.

My list of writing committments is not too terrible, apart from the fact that as soon as I tick one item off it, something else appears. It's entirely my own fault for agreeing to or volunteering to do things because they interest me. Just don't expect fast results. I'm doing my best to fit everything in.

I'm back in Poole tomorrow and will get briefed on some new research projects. Next week I'm going to Finland for a few days. Timo and I will stay at his cousin's summer cottage at Nuuksio, then I'll be interviewed for Evita magazine and on Saturday I'll meet my 90-year old great aunt for the first time and finish the day off at my uncle's 75th birthday party. The day after we come back from Finland, I'll be off to Bournemouth for a big Lush meeting.

Look out for the Newham Oasis Game diary here soon.

Eastercon report: Odyssey 2010

Odyssey 2010, The 2010 Eastercon, 2 - 5 April 2010
Radisson Edwardian Hotel, Heathrow, London, UK

If you have a greater than average urge to don a hat, waistcoat, beard or a ponytail (especially if all at once), you may be a Fan and not realise it. I currently seem to be making it to only one con, and even to that at the pathetic frequency of every other year. Each time I decide that I'd like to go to more of them. They are fun and fascinating events. Also probably one of the few places where you'll see teenagers with knitting needles instead of hoodies. Perhaps the only place.

Even though as a child growing up in Finland I was reading Lem, Heinlein, Asimov, Clarke and Vonnegut with the odd Edgar Rice Burroughs' Mars book thrown in long before I'd got into Star Trek and the original Battlestar Galactica, I didn't know anything about 'Fandom' before my first Eastercon in Jersey. I'm so glad I now know they exist. One of the first Fans (with a capital F) I met back then turned out to be a bit of a Fandom superhero, Peter Weston. We still only ever bump into each other and catch up at Eastercons. 

According to Mike Carey, the difference between a Comic Con and an Eastercon is that the former feels less connected and less personal and the latter feels more like a bunch of people who've known each other for ages. There must be so many levels of these cons I am completely oblivious to - fandom politics and hierarchy, for instance, but to a naive punter like myself the environment feels un-snobbish, welcoming, inclusive and exhilarating.

As always there were more interesting programme items than time, and short of creating a space-time anomaly, one had to choose. I left out the bondage workshops, animatronics and sword fighting techniques, but there were still plenty of sessions I would like to have seen and couldn't.

When talking about happiness, life coaches and other such bods often recite that experiences make us happier than material things. The good (or bad, depending on one's viewpoint) thing about Eastercons is that they provide you with plenty of both.

FRIDAY 2.4.2010

9am

We pile into the Smart, put on Jokaiselle Tulta and drive down to Heathrow. The journey is shorter than two years ago because we now live in Farnham instead of Horley.

10am

Life of a Hydrogen Atom, Nik Whitehead

At first I am slightly concerned because the black and white Power Point presentation that greets us seems like an example of 'How Not To Use Power Point' from my presentation skills course. Within seconds, Nik's charismatic delivery and humour override any such doubts. She makes the session feel as though I've been given the pudding before the main meal.

"You're a different audience - different in all the right ways," she quips at one point.

Nik takes us through Life, Universe and Almost Everything in one hour, from the Big Bang to a sobering look at what might happen to our Universe in the end.

Current contenders are:

- The Big Freeze = if our Universe is considered to be open and will continue to expand ad infinitum, it will eventually suffer a heat death.

- The Big Crunch = if our universe is considered to be closed, it may eventually stop expanding and crunch inwards; possibly creating another Big Bang in the process. (Apparently this line of thinking is falling out of favour)

- The Big Rip = Everything will be torn apart by the expansion of the Universe and there will be 'rips' in space-time.

Luckily for us, our Universe is only around 14 billion years old. Still, I do frequently suffer from what could maybe be described as existential depression.

Afterwards, I reflect on how irritating I find it when people prefer superstition and woo to the marvels that are right here and very real. We are all made from stars. Fact. How much more amazing could things be?

11am

Comics 101 - Essential Comics for New Readers, Sam Sykes, Claude Lalumière, Mike Carey, Crazy Dave

"Comics is not a genre. It's a medium."

The panel throws out so much excellent commentary and information that I fill 5 pages of my notebook. It is nice to see Dave Mansfield again though I don't think he recognises me from 2008. (If you're reading - hi Crazy Dave!).

One segment makes me hold my breath a little. "What would you recommend to a child who is new to comics?"

I feel too intimidated to comment at this point, just in case mentioning Asterix, Lucky Luke and Tintin would be thought of as dorky. Relieved that someone else puts their hand up and mentions them instead. Also lament that Marsupilami never really made it over here.

Of course, coming from Finland, my comic book reading was hugely influenced by the Moomin comics, as well as Aku Ankka. I don't mention these.

I'm impressed by Claude. He is insightful and articulate. At one point he says: "Comics is a language - if you haven't been exposed to it from an early age it can be hard to decode." Of course this could be some kind of industry cliché I am blissfully unaware of, but it was certainly one of the most thought-provoking moments for me.

The discussion touches on the lamentable decline and eventual disappearance of newsstand comics, which has probably been one of the biggest causes of declining readership over the last couple of decades. I wonder if we could start some sort of a movement to bring comics back. Maybe that would be as likely to succeed as getting your kids really into radio plays.

Here are some of the recommendations:

 Flight anthologies - about storytelling and a sense of wonder.

Alfred Bester's The Stars My Destination as a comic. Apparently very hard to get hold of.

Starstruck.

Transmetropolitan.

Schlock Mercenary (web comic)

Ultimate Spiderman (if you want to get your superhero-fan kids into comics, but don't want to make their head explode by all the back-story).

Sam Sykes recommends Uzumaki by saying: "Are there any Japanese people in the audience?" No hands go up. He continues: "Good, because I might have phrased this a little differently otherwise. If you want truly weird shit, you've got to angle in that direction."

Walking Dead (apparently drawn by a really lovely bloke who once drew Dave a picture of a mad zombie scientist).

Sam also recommends The Boys, which he describes as a "a really horrible, violent comic." I'm beginning to spot a theme with Sam.

Claude mentions Love and Rockets, which I am chuffed about because I've only recently discovered it myself.

Palomar was described as magic realism, which makes me think that I must look it up immediately.

Beanworld is recommended for kids. Apparently it's about walking, talking beans.

Palestine is mentioned as an excellent achievement of conveying complex issues and the genuine horror of war.

Dave explains the general gist of A Super Girly Top Secret Comic Diary. Sadly it seems to have drawn to a close.

The Age of Bronze is mentioned as a good example of historically well researched project.

The Sandman comics, Lucifer and a nifty manga website are mentioned by members of the audience.

12pm

Lunch - shredded carrot and currant salad from the con Buffet. A bit soggy.

1pm

Iain Banks Before the Wasp Factory, David Haddock

The editor of Banksoniain fanzine takes us through what Iain was writing in the 60s and 70s. We hear anecdotes about his early adventure stories and terrible character names. My husband has to explain to me why Toss Macabre is funny.

2pm

Allergies - an Introduction to Our Current Understanding, Brian Gray

"Histamine is basically molecular teargas."

Who knew talking about snot could be so entertaining? Brian is a super-charismatic, knowledgeable, educated and a less creepy version of Sideshow Bob. His presentation is engaging and informative. I leave with a well-put-together handout and a grin. I'm also now jealous of North Americans' anaphylaxis kits. Mine is pretty pathetic by comparison.

3pm

Was going to go to: Writing Steampunk. Instead end up at: Battlestar Atlantia (LARP intro session)

 The hotel corridors are plastered with these cool posters. Both Timo and I are big fans of the new Battlestar Galactica. Even my text message alert goes: "By your command" in a cylon voice. But I digress. I've not done Live Action - or any other kind of - role playing for a very, very long time. I probably won't start again now. However, I must have one of these posters. So I head to the games intro session and speak to the artist. She is delighted that I like her work and lets me have one of the spare copies. I'll frame it later.

I spend the remaining time browsing through the dealer room (for those who don't know what a dealer room is; it's a science fiction fan market with everything from clothing, jewellery and books to two-headed bears). I pass the Genki Gear stall twice before admitting to myself that I must buy at least one of their t-shirts.

4pm

Utopia - How the Concept Has Developed in Philosophy and SF, Iain M. Banks, Elizabeth Counihan, Edward James, Nik Whitehead

"In order to create Utopia, you have to destroy what was there before."

A fascinating discussion about the very definitions of Utopia and Dystopia. "Utopias are fun to live in, but crap to write about," said Iain at one point. He clarified by stating that it's much more interesting to write about what he called the peripheral stuff; where conflict occurs.

"Brave New World seemed like a Utopia to the Americans at the time: hey, free drugs!"

5pm

How Writers, Artists and Illustrators Interact, Mike Carey, Al Davidson, Deidre Counihan, Chris Moore, Steve K

 

There is a definite difference between book jacket illustration and graphic novels/comics in that the former is more like packaging design. It's meant to sell a product. There is some more discussion about how novelists and illustrators interact. I've never properly thought about what goes into comic script writing and the session ends up focusing on this topic fairly heavily. I learn about the old Marvel 3-step process and what happens these days instead. The best part is when everyone starts to share their war-stories about demanding agents and ridiculous art direction. Mentioning no names, of course.

I discover that Mike Carey is a fellow book-sniffer and find this delightful. There's nothing like a science fiction convention to make you feel less like an outsider.

 SATURDAY 3.4.2010

It's my birthday and we decide to have a slow start. This allows me to open presents, the winner of which is this super-awesome Irregular Choice bag. I immediately turf out all the junk from my current handbag and put the new one into use.

 

 

10:30am

We bump into Martin Owton, Dave Gullen, Gaye Sebold from the T-party. I make a feeble attempt to explain why I've let my membership lapse to never-seen associate status. Martin suggests I should try the (now) local to me writing group he is a member of in Farnborough.

11am

Guest of Honour: Iain M. Banks, interviewed by Jane Killick

I am beginning to understand why the only two authors I really couldn't seem to get into when I first started reading English fantasy and science fiction as a non-native speaker were Terry Pratchett and Iain M. Banks. Who knew space opera could be so...colloquial?

Iain is animated, charismatic and charming. His talk keeps everyone entertained and the hour whizzes past.

I am still catching up with my Banks reading. I've gone up the science fiction 'branch' of his career first.

Iain's fantastic Scottish accent is beginning to flavour my internal dialogue.

12pm

Bad Science, Ben Goldacre

"All Men Will Have Big Willies"

At first I couldn't believe my luck when I saw that Ben was going to be here too. You'd just have to throw in some kind of olfactory lecture and it'd be perfect programming for Pia.

There are some technical difficulties in the beginning. Ben ends up with his laptop on a chair, on a table and comments: "Now that the Pierrot-part of my presentation is over..."

A great presenter, Ben shows that he's done this sort of thing on stage before. The early technical hitch cuts the show short, which is a shame because everyone is enjoying themselves immensely.

I already know most of the stories he tells us because I've got his book and read his blog, but I'm thrilled at the opportunity to see him in action.

1pm

We pile out of the room and to my surprise, Ben stops me: "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

We talk for about an hour and Timo joins in half-way through. I tell Ben about the book I'm working on and he scolds me for not pulling my finger out and sorting it out already. He threatens to write it if I don't.

We end up missing what we were planning on doing and decide to have something to eat instead.

I pop to the dealers room and treat myself to an adorable (very flattering) portrait done by Al Davidson. I can't resist the pull of another Genki t-shirt, so I reason that it's my birthday and who needs to eat lunch anyway? I end up chatting with Lydia on the stall and she tells me about their adventures as an independent company.

Sara-Jayne Townsend from the T-party is also in the room and we stop and chat for a while about her new book Suffer the Children. She is quietly hopeful, but very down to earth about it all.

3pm

Drawing Comic Art, Al Davidson

"Never commit too early to your lines."

I signed up for this session, which is lucky since it seemed over-subscribed. There aren't enough chairs and the arrangement is awkward for Al because he needs to draw onto a flip chart from a seated position. Somehow Al manages to run the session with ease despite these difficulties. He shows us some of his Doctor Who original artwork panels, discussed various drawing techniques - and we get to participate in some quick lessons in comic art short-hand. It's amazing how much Al is able to fit in. I learn a lot, but leave wishing I could sign up for a course taught by him.

4pm

Whisky tasting with Iain Banks

Did you know that Iain's original idea for a science fiction pen-name was a blend of his favourite whisky brands at the time?

We didn't sign up for this session, which means we were banished to the back rows and only got a few glasses passed around to us. The volume of audience 'participation' increases in tandem with number of whisky samples. The mods seem annoyed by this, but I don't mind. It's like a strange kind of bar with pauses for tasting notes. To my delight, the discussion touches on olfaction a fair amount, at which point I am able to contribute a little. Now it really is a perfect programme for Pia.

The whisky tasting ends at 6pm and we head home. I only sniffed, so I'm driving.

SUNDAY 4.4.2010

10am

Biggest Biological Tropes in SF, Stephen Gaskell, Paul McAuley, Michael Owen, Sharon Reamer, Gary Stratmann

"Life as we know it (if there's a Jim in the audience)".

The usual topics of carbon-based life forms versus the possibility of silicon-based; what IS life anyway and all that jazz gets covered. Very interesting, but find myself once again mesmerised by Paul McAuley's brain.

The question of "is there another type of life on Earth that we just haven't discovered yet?" is an interesting one.

Gary has a fantastic way with words: "The broader question of life is easily answered - it's DNA versus Lego." And: "It's been important to human psychology to believe we are special."

11am

Guest of Honour: Alastair Reynolds

"It's a great time to be writing science fiction. Science moves faster, so you just have to work a little bit harder."

Alastair presents a journey through early science fiction to modern writing by drawing on the theme of how science and fiction interact. He puts developments in the genre in political and cultural context and admits to still hoping that faster than light travel could be possible.

He mentions his frustration at not knowing what will be discovered by science after he has gone and I nod in agreement. It's one of the most annoying things about being curious.

12pm

We pick up a copy of Murky Depths from the dealers room. This is a new one for me, but the sample copy I picked up looked interesting.

Pictured: our book haul from the con.

2pm

Best Unread  (in English) European SF books, Jonathan Cowie, Jo Fletcher, Kirill Pleshkov, Hannu Rajaniemi, Christian Sauve, Ian Watson, Cheryl Morgan

Discussions about the difficulties of translation - and specifically - interpreting the content correctly are always fun, given my background, but I was cheating a bit and mostly looking for some good Finnish recommendations. Hannu mentioned Karsta, Apina ja Uusikuu and Lumikko ja Yhdeksan Muuta. I'll have to get hold of them when I next visit. I didn't know that 'New Weird' was called 'Uusi Kumma' in Finnish. It sounds funny.

3pm

Guest of Honour: Mike Carey

Mike is interviewed by Paul Cornell. The conversation moves fluidly through Mike's works. I am charmed by both of them. I hadn't noticed how much Mike looks like Lucifer in the comics until Paul points it out.

The pair cope admirably in what can only be described as a Monty Python-moment when two gophers decide to sweep the stage during the talk.

MONDAY 5.4.2010

10am

Language and Dialect in Writing, Iain M. Banks, Gary Couzens, Jude Roberts, Cheryl Morgan

The description of this panel featured a question I would have been interested in: "How interdependent are language and culture?"

Instead most of the panel focuses on Culture; which is still fine and entertaining, given that we're in the company of the person who invented it and another one who is writing her PhD on it. Audience participation moves the discussion towards personal experiences and reading of accents - how much we use accent and dialect as a social marker and so forth.

Timo suggests that I should give Feersum Endjinn a go. Iain says he wanted to make a short book longer "...so I thought I could slow it down by making you have to figure out 'what the hell is he saying now?'"

1pm

Was: Climate Scepticism: Pros and Cons, but we tossed a coin and went for Just a Minute instead.

Just a Minute, a rip-off of the game by the same name. John Dowd, Lisa Konrad, Sue Mason, Neil, Henry Proctor and Alastair Reynolds.

Some of the topics: the geography of Radisson Edwardian hotel, the colour blue, potatoes.

I manage to speak to Alastair briefly after the panel. He surprises me by guessing I'm Finnish and recommends Tahtivaeltaja magazine to me. He clearly has fantastic taste.

2pm

Black Holes For Beginners, Nik Whitehead

"Singularity really means: shit, we don't know what the maths is doing here. It's where it all breaks down."

I realise that we've come a full circle and end our con with another Nik Whitehead item. This session is even more fascinating than the first - probably because it involves so much more tantalisingly unknown and mysterious material.  I wish I could attend lectures by Nik all the time, but I doubt I'd have the smarts for it.

She mentions the 'spaghettification' of space-time and I can't resist shouting out: "Does that mean the Pastafarians are right?"

3pm

We're hungry and knackered and decide to head home. We're in the lobby paying for our parking when I lament to Timo that I hadn't had a chance to get my copy of Lucifer signed by the author. At this point, in a spooky replica of the John Meaney-moment from 2008, Mike Carey turns up and I get my autograph. He asks us whether we enjoyed the con and we try not to be too tongue-tied.

Homeward Bound

Listening to Plastic Beach on the way home, we discuss the con and how it feels for it to be over and whether we'll be going to the next one, or the one after that. Maybe the every-other-con pattern will continue, which may be just as well considering  how much you come away with. We pick up a bottle of Dalwhinnie 15-year-old. Cheers, Iain!

 

 

 

See the 2008 report here!

Oh yeah, we went to see Chinese acrobats do Swan Lake at the Royal Opera House (instead of, erm, Mamma Mia, the film)

When Katja asked whether we'd prefer to see the Chinese acrobats instead of Mamma Mia we didn't hesitate for long. Well, Timo did, a little, because he thought he'd never been to a ballet before, but then I reminded him that he'd been to see the Sadlers Wells Edward Scissorhands production (which was a ballet) and that actually, this performance was likely to be more about the circus and less about the ballet.

So we went - and it was gorgeous, entertaining and extremely corny. It felt as if the group knowingly hammed up the sections likely to cause titters from the more serious audience members - such as the slow-moving stuffed camel ridden by the lead dancer during the glittering harem spectacle, or the mechanical giant swan bumper-car that slides into view right at the beginning and reveals a dancer from its innards amidst clouds of smoke machine vapour. You'd have to be a little dead inside not to find these additions funny. I just hope nobody went expecting to see an evening of traditional ballet.  It was a great circus performance with some ballet influences.

The breathtaking highlight of the evening was the en pointe dancing by the lead ballerina on the leading male's head. Yes, balancing on one tiptoe. Apparently this was the heart of the original concept of the show, around which the rest of if grew.

The next thing I'd love to see is Monkey, which WAS showing at the Royal Opera House. It was sold out  and the run had ended last time I checked, but if tickets will become available again, I'm there!

After that, it might be wise to float down from the trapeze and see a proper play again. Or a proper opera for that matter. But I've got to admit, for the time being, these musical and acrobatic spectacles are just what the doctor ordered.   

Orbital2008 (That's how we're tagging it)

[EDIT: See the 2010 report here!]

This year's Eastercon was the best one I'd been to. Orbital 2008 was held at the Radison Edwardian hotel, Heathrow and I went for the whole weekend with my husband Timo. Didn't think anything would beat the 2002 con in Jersey, but I was wrong. Not that I'm a seasoned con-goer and a fan, unlike the veterans celebrating their 40th Eastercon, but nevertheless, measuring by my own tiny scale, this one tops the lot.

Turns out the Chinese invented Breakdance

Shaolin Monks was great. A mixture between Martial arts prowess, energetic dance and stagemanship; it was a Martial arts circus. Definitely something to see (I could add the nauseating: for the whole family). There were spectacular shows of well-practiced moves, the circus-element of brick-breaking and balancing on sharp spikes seemed to appeal to the younger audience and there were moments when the cartwheels and rolling on stage held a striking resemblance to Breakdance.

The highlight of the show was a double-act by two very young boys - they looked like they were under 7 years old, but their size might have been misleading. They effortlessly sparred, skipped and hopped through complicated Kung-Fu moves with the sort of ease that usually follows years and years of tireless practice. Watching them was like an optical illusion that made the audience gasp time and time again; it was like watching miniature adults.

We did notice one thing - the audience was completely different from the last Sadler's Wells production we went to see. Yes, lots of families, but also people who looked like they'd never set foot in a theatre before. Many people arriving really late. Or talking during the performance. I don't care if it's your first time when you're 48 years old, but you could at least observe some polite common sense rules on how to conduct yourself.

Perhaps that's harsh. But seriously. Granted, not everyone was taken to their first concert/opera/theatre performance at under 5 years old, taught to sit still and focus, taught to figure out the plot of an opera sung in another language from looking through the programme booklet, but I do idly wonder whether common sense about certain things has to be taught too. Is common sense something you can, or have to teach?

It seems that many Finns still value opera, classical music and the theatre in the sort of way I was used to. In that you don't have to be wealthy, or in any kind of particular social class to take yourself (and your kids) off to see the latest production of The Magic Flute. At least that's the impression I get from the delightful film "Pelikaanimies" (Pelican Man), a film we watched yesterday. I bought it on our Finnish trip this summer, but we hadn't got around to watching it until now. Pelican Man is a simple, but delightful fantasy aimed at children, but entirely watchable by adults. One day a pelican decides to turn himself into a human by landing on a beach and putting on human clothes. The film explores human perception, what it's like to be an adult and what it's like to be a little boy whose parents have just divorced. There is lovely Finnish scenery and a beautiful feel to the whole film.

Soy milk with my Ozric Tentacles, please

Ozric Tentacles is a brand of psychedelic prog-rock flavour breakfast cereal that every creative person should try at least once. Why? Because the mesh of riffs and melodies that is their sound, will make its way through the ear canals and slowly seep out of your eyeballs in an exquisite kaleidoscopic colour fantasy.

If you have Ozrics in the background and pen, pencil, chalk, Photoshop, typewriter, pasta collage - anything to create with - in front of you and nothing happens, then there's something wrong.

Let me re-phrase: if nothing good happens.

Ozrics are mind-food. Medicine against blank-page-panic.

Prog rock is such an irritating label. Perhaps even more so than "pop" or "rock". Deep Purple and Pink Floyd have their place, but it feels wrong that they should be cheek-to-cheek with the Ozrics. Nothing is in the same category.

I perceive the world around me through mild synaesthesia (although so do most people without realising it; I guess what I'm saying is: my synaesthesia is stronger than average). Ozric Tentacles hit the Syn nerve on the spot. (I just made up the Syn nerve, but go with it).

In fact, I'd venture as far as to say that the perfect treatment option for someone who's a little stiff and rigid in the creative department would be to gently introduce a course of Ozrics, starting, perhaps, with Jurassic Shift, one of my favourites. The dormant Syn nerve would twang into action equally well with Strangeitude or Pungent Effulgent.

The group has released 20-odd recordings since its formation in the mid eighties, yet is classified as "underground". This is no Tony Tiger; I'll admit that Ozrics won't appeal to the masses. It's not an easy sell. It won't fit into a bite-size chart show. It's not revolutionary. It doesn't deviate too much from its central theme. You can listen to some samples on the official website and decide for yourself. I recommend longer than a few seconds though - so if you are of the Napster persuasion, go, download!

All of the above form part of the appeal for me. I enjoy sharing this under the table secret with the select few. So, I'll admit - every time I find myself enjoying a chart-topping act, I wince just a little. This is, of course, terribly contrived and silly of me because if I'd truly achieved the state of being free of mass influence, I would go with whatever takes my fancy, regardless of whether a few squillion others fancied the same thing too.

And this brings me nicely to Röyksöpp. An indie band from Norway. Nay, a chart-climbing indie band  from Norway. They're good. Really good. Maybe there's some kind of secret Nordic code hidden in the tracks; a native memory of a sound just so, that happens to appeal to the Finn in me - who knows, I'm just babbling now - but some of the tracks are "little hairs at the back of your neck standing up" good. I'll have to throw the contrived snobbery out with the rubbish; this stuff is becoming popular, but I like it. Maybe the snobbery is more to do with my regard for the faceless general public: can it really tell mass-produced talentless hacks from true gems? Just a rhetorical question.

Röyksöpp could be described as dance, as pop, as indie - again, no befitting category there. This, I find, is always a good sign.

Categorisation fails completely when talking about Lamb. Is it drum and bass? Is it pop? Is it dance? Who knows. It's like a warm pebble you happened to pick up from an otherwise bleak beach; it's nestled in your pocket and keeping you warm, all in secret. You smile to yourself because B-line is stuck in your head and most people associate mint sauce with Lamb, not this.

Fear of fours is the raw - and in my opinion most appealing - example of the Lamb-effect, but the 1996 debut was enough to get me hooked. If you like Portishead, Bjork, or, indeed, Röyksöpp, I recommend you give Lamb a whirl.

This is part of The Sunday Review series.