"Guell Park. After a fashion. Barcelona, if you like."

 As her fingers closed around the cool brass knob, it seemed to squirm, sliding along a touch spectrum of texture and temperature in the first second of contact.Then it became metal again, green-​painted iron, sweeping out and down, along a line of perspective, an old railing she grasped now in wonder.

A few drops of rain blew into her face.

Smell of rain and wet earth.

A confusion of small details, her own memory of a drunken art school picnic warring with the perfection of Virek's illusion.

Below her lay the unmistakable panorama of Barcelona, smoke hazing the strange spires of the Church of the Sagrada Familia. She caught the railing with her other hand as well, fighting vertigo. She knew this place. She was in the Guell Park, Antonio Gaudi's tatty fairyland, on its barren rise behind the center of the city. To her left, a giant lizard of crazy-​quilt ceramic was frozen in midslide down a ramp of rough stone. Its fountain-​grin watered a bed of tired flowers.

William Gibson, Count Zero

There's a long list of places that I know only as fictional settings, and Barcelona's Parc Güell is one of them, thanks to its appearance in Gibson’s Count Zero. Other than that, I didn’t really have any sort of impression as to the reality that lay behind its use as a virtual setting in the novel, but I was curious enough to add it to my list of places to go when the cruise ship docked in Spain.

I was astonished to discover that behind the ceramic dragon that has become the icon for the park, there's a fantastic array of rough-hewn promenades and viaducts threading the grounds together like the underpinnings of an alien metropolis.

Has no one ever thought of using the Parc Güell as the backdrop for a science fiction or fantasy film? It's easy to imagine some race of giant alien arthropods à la The Dark Crystal making their solemn way through the irregular semi-organic buttresses and past the peculiar colonnades spawned by Gaudi’s imagination, or faery folk duelling in front of the gingerbread curves and swells of his buildings.

A bit of research online reveals that some movies have been shot at the park, but with the best will in the world, Vicky Cristina Barcelona isn't really what I have in mind.

- Sid

Le Passe-Muraille.

Fly to Paris.  Make your way to Montmartre, and go to the Basilica of Sacré-Coeur, high atop its hill, north and west from the infamous Moulin Rouge.  Leave the Basilica and make your way through the narrow, winding streets of the old village, past the café Le Consulat, and down the Rue Norvin to the Place Marcel Aymé.  There you will find a peculiar thing:  a statue of a man, but not a complete statue.  Instead, it shows the man as if he were walking through the wall - and in fact he is.

The statue is of the titular character in Le Passe-Muraille - in English, The Walker-Through-Walls, a 1943 short story by the Marcel Aymé after whom the square is named.  As you might imagine, the story deals with a man who discovers that he has the ability to move through solid matter:

Dutilleul discovered his power shortly after he turned forty-two. One evening, the electricity went out briefly while he was standing in the front hall of his small bachelor apartment. He groped around for a moment in the dark, and when the power came back on, he found himself standing on his fourth floor landing. Since the door to his apartment was locked from the inside, this gave him pause for thought. Despite the objections of his common sense, he decided to return home in the same way he left—by passing through the wall. This strange ability seemed to have no bearing on any of his aspirations, and he could not help feeling rather vexed about it.

Dutilleul visits his doctor, who prescribes:

...two doses a year of tetravalent pirette powder containing a mixture of rice flour and centaur hormone. Dutilleul took one dose, then put the medicine in the back of a drawer and forgot about it.

Astonishingly, Dutilleul does nothing with his ability, even though he retains it after only taking one dose of the medicine rather than the prescribed two.  However, when he has trouble with his workplace supervisor, Dutilleul uses his ability to drive the supervisor crazy.  Pleased by this success, he looks for other outlets, and turns to a life of crime.

His career as a criminal is a phenomenal success, and all Paris stands in awe of this mysterious, miraculous thief, from whom no treasure is safe.  However, when Dutilleul attempts to take credit for his actions and announces to his co-workers that he is in fact the mystery man, he is laughed out of the office.  As a result, he allows the police to capture him, in order to prove to the scoffers at work that he really is the amazing thief that they all admire.

It would seem insane to allow the authorities to arrest him just to gain the respect of his fellow workers (which he does), but then, think - what prison can hold him?  He proceeds to steal the warden's gold watch and hang it in his cell, borrow books from the warden's library, and finally announces the time and date of his departure from prison, at which point he vanishes completely from the public eye, living off his plunder and quietly working on his stamp collection.

Sadly, as you might guess, Dutilleul's downfall comes in the form of a woman.  (This is, after all, a French story.)  Tempted by a blonde beauty whose jealous husband keeps her under lock and key, he walks through the walls of their apartment and repeatedly makes mad passionate love to the captive goddess.  However, one night he feels the pangs of a headache, and rather than disappoint his innamorata, he finds what he thinks to be aspirin tablets in a drawer, takes two and goes to see his beloved.

As he is making his exit, he finds to his horror that he is trapped within the garden wall, unable to come or go through the masonry.  The pills which he thought were pain killers were of course the forgotten medication from his doctor, and his ability has left him at the worst possible moment.

Dutilleul was immobilized inside the wall. He is there to this very day, imprisoned in the stone. When people go walking down the Rue Norvins late at night after the bustle of Paris has died down, they hear a muffled voice which seems to come from beyond the grave; they think it’s the sound of the wind whistling through the streets of Montmartre. It’s Lone Wolf Dutilleul lamenting the end of his glorious career and mourning his all too brief love affair.

So, it is in fact on the Rue Norvin that Dutilleul meets his Waterloo, although perhaps not at the exact location of the statue.  The thing about that statue that most captures my attention is the expression on the Passe-Muraille's face. It reminds me of the ambiguous smile of the Mona Lisa - what is he thinking as he smiles that slight smile?  Is it smug?  Is it satisfied?  Is it contemplative?  Or perhaps is it simply pleasure in his unusual talent - the ability to walk through walls...

- Sid

"I listened!"

My mother .... was a pure woman .... from a noble family. And I, at least, know who my father is, ..... you pig-eating son of a whore!

Antonio Banderas, The Thirteenth Warrior

Remember the sequence in The Thirteenth Warrior where a reluctant Ahmed Ibn Fahdlan, played by Antonio Banderas, is making his way north with the Vikings?  Every night he sits by the fire, ignored by his fellow travellers as they speak in their own language.  However, as he sits and listens, night after night, he begins to pick up a word here and there, then another, and is finally able to respond to a chance comment about his mother, to the amazement and suspicion of the Vikings.

I've been in Paris for a few days now, and sadly I'm still in the "word here and there" phase.  However, I think I'm taking the right approach in just trying to get the concept of what I'm hearing, rather than do a word for word translation in my head, and so far this has worked pretty well.  And, to the best of my knowledge, no one has been offended by anything I've said - at least, I'm pretty sure they haven't made any comments about my mother.

- Sid

"So where was I? Oh, that's right - Barcelona!"

Rose Tyler...I was gonna take you to so many places...Barcelona. Not the city Barcelona, the planet Barcelona. You'll love it, fantastic place, they've got dogs with no noses! Imagine how many times a day you end up telling that joke, and it's still funny!

Doctor Who, The Parting of the Ways

One guess what port we're visiting today...*

- Sid

* Bit of an inside joke - cheers, Chris! 

Practicality Over Concept.

Every fantasy fan should visit England - specifically, the Tower of London.  Forget the overly ornate accoutrements of World of Warcraft, forget the impossible weaponry of Final Fantasy - completely forget chain mail bikinis - this is the real deal, from the various points in history when men buckled on steel plate and went out to kill each other with axe and sword.

As such, there's a harsh practicality to most of the armour that's on display.  When it has been ornamented, as in the images above, the various etchings and inlays decorate without reducing that practicality, without detracting from the armour's basic task of efficient protection.  Which makes perfect sense to me - after all, when this sort of harness was being worn, GAME OVER was a much more terminal statement than it is today.

- Sid

London Melancholy.

"London-of-the-sorrows," said Malice Priest

"London Misery," said Two Jane.

"London Melancholy," insisted Thin Molder.

M. John Harrison, London Melancholy:  The Machine In Shaft Ten

Day Five of the 2011 European Tour, and in spite of the title for this posting I'm in a pretty good mood.  However, it's been raining for the last couple of days, and I have to admit that rainy days when you're on vacation do make it a bit more difficult to be really happy about things.

But it seems oddly fitting to walk the streets of London in the rain; rain is part of the London mythos, a mythos based on over 2000 years of history as a city.  In spite of that extended pre-Roman origin, London is most notably the seat of Empire, and one sees a constant struggle between that Victorian legacy of bolted iron and crumbling red brick versus the modern marvels of geometric architecture, sheathed in mirrored glass.

It may be that state of conflict between the old and the new that has made London such a frequent setting for urban fantasies.  Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere is very definitely the exemplar for this, a dark novel that presents readers with a London of grim enchantments and legendary monsters, where Earl's Court Station has an earl, Blackfriars Station has black monks, and Angel Station has...yes, an Angel. 

China Mieville seems to have a particular interest in London as a setting.  His young adult novel Un Lun Dun shows us a mirror London, an Un-London, as the title would suggest, filled with the things that the other London no longer uses.  And, of course, as would make perfect sense for an un-city, it isn't saved from destruction by the Chosen One, but rather the Un-Chosen.

Kraken, his somewhat tongue-in-cheek end-of-the-world piece, fills London with cultists and worshippers of obscure gods and demons, all of whom are predicting an apocalypse - just not the same one. And his short story The Tain turns London into a war zone in the conflict between humans and their mirrored avatars.

The interesting thing about these various fantasy Londons is that they exist as separate entities, where travel between everyday London and its alternates is a struggle, fraught with dangers and difficulties.  In actuality, London represents exactly the same sort of unreal combination of worlds - where but in London would you see a combination of architecture like this?

- Sid

Day 4: During Which Our Hero Does Not Turn Into a Chicken.

 And you, the bald fellow who's half a chicken, it's starting to look good on you.

The Doctor, The Doctor Who Experience

Day Four of the 2011 European Tour, a day which provided me with an odd combination of experiences - and Experiences, come to think of it.

I started the day with the Doctor Who Experience, for which I have mixed reviews, to be honest. First, I have to say that Google has a LOT to answer for - the address provided for the Olympia Two exhibition centre has perilously little to do with the actual location, an issue which very nearly led me to be late for my ten o'clock reservation as I walked in circles through the pouring English rain asking carpark attendants, shop clerks and postmen for directions.

However, I did finally make my triumphant (and dripping wet) entrance at the front door at exactly ten, and made my way to the exhibition.  As I had somewhat suspected, the Experience itself didn't start at EXACTLY ten, since that was also when the venue opened (sad to say, experience teaches us that most Experiences don't start on time.)

 

The Doctor Who Experience is made up of two parts - well, three if you're being generous.  There's a bit of a prop display in the waiting area at the start, a couple of costumes and a Union Jack decorated Dalek, but honestly, it's just to give you something to do while you wait.

 

The Experience itself?  The Experience is a sort of interactive episode of the series, set in a variety of sets from the show.  I have to admit I was a bit concerned when we all shuffled into a dark room and a series of clips from old episodes ran on an oversized wall screen.  However, I was impressed when, at the end, rather than exiting through one of the doors in the room the screen itself unexpectedly split in half and we were ushered in a museum setting from Starship UK, as featured in the episode The Beast Below.

As the various exhibits in the museum were being described to us by a very well done interactive guide who was essentially a human face on a stick, the Doctor makes an appearance by hijacking one of the numerous video screens in the hall and demanding our help in escaping from the second Pandorica, a perfect trap designed specifically for the Doctor.

As the walk-through continues, there's quite a bit of the Doctor on various screens, all custom footage shot solely for the Experience, which I was relieved to see after the initial show clips.  Matt Smith delivers his lines with flair and energy - in fact, with so much energy that they apparently had some difficulty keeping him from breaking out of his bonds prematurely during the shooting.

The Experience then took us into the TARDIS, which of course is constructed so as to appear bigger on the inside, and we're offered the unique opportunity of piloting it, an experience which the Doctor requested be given to any children in the group, since apparently adults are rubbish at this sort of thing.*

As you progress through the various sets, you're threatened by Daleks, Weeping Angels, and finally end up watching almost every villain from the new series being swept away by a time vortex in one of the most incredibly effective 3-D films I've ever seen.  In fact, I was surprised that the children in the audience weren't screaming in fright, obviously British kids are made of stern stuff.

 

Finally, you're ushered out into a large display of props and costumes from the show, followed by the inevitable gift shop.

 

 

Overall, I enjoyed the Doctor Who Experience, but I have to say that I was hoping that it would be "incredible" rather than "enjoyable".  What would have made the difference?  I would have added a few actors in costume and disposed of the very mundane fellow in a t-shirt who kept telling us which way to go - surely that role could have been filled by someone in a spacesuit.  I also think that the TARDIS control room was supposed to be a motion platform, but it didn't seem to be doing anything in spite of the Doctor's repeated warnings that we should hang on.

 

All criticisms aside, at least I can say that I've been there, done that - and got the t-shirt (okay, and a mug, if you must know).

My earlier wanderings had taken me past the Brompton Cemetery, an evocative necropolis to stumble across on a rainy day in London, and after the Doctor Who Experience I couldn't resist going back to take some pictures of this unkempt momento mori - after all, I couldn't get any wetter.

Solitary fellow visitors added odd gracenotes to my visit -  it was a bit disconcerting to see a black clad figure stalking through the cenotaphs, their face concealed by an umbrella.  A hooded figure sat in quiet contemplation near the central rotunda, and a passing fairy posed in a bizarre display of sweatsuit eroticism, all of which added up to a sort of near-surreal urban fantasy experience.

Tomorrow, St. Paul's, and the Tower of London!

- Sid

* There was also some talk of bald people being turned into giant chickens, a recurring thread in the narrative.  To my relief I dodged that particular bullet - my passport picture looks nothing like a chicken, and I might have had some trouble explaining the addition of feathers and a beak when trying to get back into Canada.

Paradise Skies.

Happiness is beginning to rise

From the streets into paradise skies.

Max Webster, Paradise Skies:  A Million Vacations

Counting down: I'm on deck to leave for the airport in an hour.  I'm packed and documented, I have pounds and euros, maps and guides, reservations and tickets.  Inevitably I forget something when I pack, but it's never anything serious - "Oh damn, I forgot shirts!" - but as far as I can tell I'm pretty well prepared.  However, I would like to publicly thank my co-worker Joe for including a 2010 Island Boys calendar in the suitcase that I borrowed, and once again, thanks for thinking of me, Joe, but I left it in the spare bedroom to be returned with the luggage.

I'll be doing blog updates as opportunity, inspiration and internet access allow.  For those of you tracking trip progress here, I'll warn you now that I won't be doing a lot of  "The scenery is here, wish you were beautiful" updates - anything here will have at least some sort of thematic connection to science fiction or fantasy.  (I'll admit that I've got a couple of placeholders based on existing plans, and not necessarily relating to Doctor Who, either.)  However, I will be contacting people personally as well, not to worry.

So, bon voyage, and thanks to everyone for their interest and support in planning this trip!

- Sid

Everywhere and forever?

I'm in full countdown mode for my vacation, with only four and a half days to go before I fly to England.  One of the things on my to-do list was my online check-in for the Mediterranean cruise, which I needed to finish this week so that I could print the results.

Part of the check-in process required my agreement to a lengthy contract detailing the various responsibilities, regulations and liabilities for both the shipping line and the passengers.  This contract contains the following clause - please note the section in bold:

13. USE OF PHOTOS, VIDEOS OR RECORDINGS:
Guest hereby grants to Carrier (and its assignees and licensees) the exclusive right throughout the universe and in perpetuity to include photographic, video, audio and other visual or audio portrayals of Passenger taken during or in connection with the Cruise or CruiseTour (including any images, likenesses or voices) in any medium of any nature whatsoever (including the right to edit, combine with other materials or create any type of derivative thereof) for the purpose of trade, advertising, sales, publicity, promotional, training or otherwise, without compensation to the Guest. 

"Throughout the universe and in perpetuity"?  Wow, obviously Royal Caribbean is in for the long haul with this cruise business thing.  I'm left with this odd mental image of eight-armed aliens on Tau Ceti Five a thousand years from now, thoughtfully flipping through a cruise brochure that's ornamented with a picture of my smiling face as I enjoy the various amenities available on the ship. "Hmmm...you know, this bald bearded biped appears to be enjoying himself - pack your bags, honey, we're going to Earth!"

- Sid

"You never know". Or do you?

I’ll get trip insurance in case Europe collapses before we embark on our cruise. You never know.

- Laurie Smith, February 2011

Now, admittedly, the rioting in England has died down (although there are still incidents of looting on a much smaller, almost personalized scale - boutique looting, if you will); regardless, some kind of recognition is due to Laurie for her prescient comments from February about travel insurance, now that I'm flying to England to start my vacation in less than a week. Hmmm…psychic ability? Time travel? Either way, Laurie, if there's anything else you'd like to mention - alien invasions, giant sea monsters in the Mediterranean, the return of the Mummy, anything - now is the time (no pun intended).

- Sid

P.S. Come to think of it, I might deserve a minor shout-out for my observations about planning riots through social media.  Apparently Facebook, Twitter and BlackBerry Messenger were key elements in the planning and execution of the violence in London.

THIS is a science fiction shark - see the difference?

Ah, I see that the Space Channel is showing Jaws tonight, look at that!

Sigh...okay...I'm only going to say this once...

HEY!!!!   SPACE CHANNEL!!!  JAWS IS NOT A SCIENCE FICTION MOVIE!!  A MOVIE ABOUT A BIG SHARK THAT EATS PEOPLE IS NOT SCIENCE FICTION!!!! 
  
QUESTIONS?  

NO?  

GOOD!!  DON'T MAKE THIS MISTAKE AGAIN!!

- Sid

August 14th update:  goddamnit, it's even in their pre-movie lead-in!  Am I missing something here?  Does Captain Quint suggest that the shark is a mutant, or something?

Illustration by Canadian illustrator Jesse McGibs 


 

Insert clever title here.

There are times when this whole blog thing is more trouble than it's worth.

I was skimming through Michael Moorcock's Stormbringer, the last in his Elric of Melniboné series, looking for quotes for a posting on Chaos, when I noticed a line in the text saying that Elric's sorcerous ancestors had ruled his world for ten thousand years.

Really?  Ten thousand years?  And no one invented gunpowder, light bulbs or computers?  We went from bronze armour to the moon in a little under two thousand, what in the hell were these people doing for all that time?

Okay…well, Arthur C. Clarke said that any sufficiently advanced technology would be indistinguishable from magic - maybe there's some kind of flip side to that which would say that sufficiently advanced magic would…eliminate the need for technology? 

Well, there's probably a posting in there someplace, "Discuss!", as Mike Meyers would say.  But how do I illustrate it?  Ooo, I know, there was that Michael Golden drawing in one of the early Epic Illustrated issues*, the one showing the shaman and the cyber-soldier.  Let's see…Google...Epic Illustrated Golden - aha, issue 3.  Okay, Google, Epic Illustrated 3 .cbr…aha, there we are.

Download….download….

And open.  Hold on, where's the drawing?  In fact, where's the article with the drawing?  God damn it, there's about 20 pages missing from this scan!  Bloody people... Okay, Google…Epic Illustrated 3…new link...

Download...download…

And open.  Oh for heaven's sake, it's the same scan.

Google…Epic Illustrated 03…new link….

Download….download....

You're kidding - also missing 20 pages?  Okay, let's try some lateral thinking here.  Google....Michael Golden artwork…aha, Modern Masters Volume 12, Michael Golden.

Download…download…

Nope, not here.  Hmmm.  Okay, as far as I know I own the damn magazine, down to the storage room, let's find that box of Heavy Metal and Epic magazines....aha, there we go.

Shuffle....shuffle...oh look, an Isaac Asimov SF Adventure Magazine, I haven't read this in years, wasn't there a Brunner Man In Black story in here.  Ah, and the special H. P. Lovecraft issue of Heavy Metal, let's keep that out for some scanning, there were some good Cthulhu illustrations if memory serves. Gosh, is it worth my while to pull the issues of Heavy Metal with the serialized version of the Matt Howarth Changes story to do my own scans to replace the all-in-one edition that Tundra published, where he redrew all the frames that contained nudity?

Aha, here it is, in the OTHER box of Epic/Heavy Metal magazines!!!  

You know, now that I look at it, maybe not the ideal image...let's see, what else could I use...wait, wasn't I doing research for a posting on Chaos?

- Sid

*  Yes, I happened to bloody well remember that there was a particular black and white line drawing by Michael Golden in a fantasy magazine that I bought in 1980, do you have a problem with that?

"Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths"

Giggle giggle giggle....

As I've already mentioned, I'm off for a three week European vacation in August.  The middle part involving Italy and the Mediterranean cruise with Felix the Cat is all taken care of, reservations, tickets, bookings et al., and now I'm filling in the English and French parts before and after.

Finding things to do in London is hardly a problem, but I thought it might be interesting to break with my usual sightseeing lineup and do something different.  Initially, I had hoped to see Kevin Spacey's eponymous performance in Richard III for the innovative Bridge Project version of the play currently being done at the Old Vic, but apparently that's been sold out since day one.  Hmmm....what else, what else....

Regardless, last night I booked a London transit pass along with an attractions pass guaranteed to get me into 80 fascinating tourist spots, and then decided to take a break from vacation planning.

So it was a COMPLETE fluke that I found a link to the following on TDW Geek: *

Yes, the Doctor Who Experience, currently in London and now booking until September 4th, conveniently located within about a minute's walk from the Olympia Underground station.

The Doctor Who Experience invites you to step through a crack in time allowing you to join the Doctor on a journey through time and space, encountering some of the best-loved and scariest monsters from the hit international television series. Special scenes filmed with Matt Smith as the Doctor combine with amazing special effects and the chance to enter a recreation of the modern TARDIS.

The exhibition element of the Doctor Who Experience charts the success of the TV show from the first series in 1963 to the most recent episodes starring Matt Smith and Karen Gillan. Displays in the exhibition include items never seen before including original costumes, the Tom Baker TARDIS police box and two authentic TARDIS sets from the eras of David Tennant and Peter Davison. You will also be able to get up close and personal with iconic sets from recent series, including the Pandorica Box and Chair and confront numerous monsters including several generations of the Daleks and Cybermen as well as Silurians, an Ice Warrior and a Zygon.

Giggle giggle giggle...

Okay, fine, it's not bloody Shakespeare, but I have to admit that I may quite possibly end up having more fun at the Doctor Who Experience when I make my way there on August 23rd.  Hmmm....I hope I can get someone to take my picture beside a Dalek...

- Sid
 

P.S. And then I got ALL excited when I realized that HMV London sells Doctor Who DVD collections for a quarter of the price they charge at HMV Vancouver!  Yep, got all excited for about half an hour, then I thought, "No, wait, wrong bloody DVD Region."  Sigh...

*  Yes, I'm a regular visitor to The Daily What: Geek - "Games, Gadgets, Comics, Science and Sci-Fi".  Should this really be a surprise to anyone?

Mort.

Is it possible for someone like me - or like you - to arrange for themselves the death that they want?

Terry Pratchett, Choosing to Die

British fantasy author Terry Pratchett wants to die.

Actually, as Mr. Pratchett often has his characters say, that sentence is wrong in every particular (except the part about being a British fantasy author) but it's quite a useful lie.  Under normal circumstances, Terry Pratchett would have no more desire to die than anyone else, but unfortunately his circumstances are no longer exactly what one might call "normal".

As I've already discussed in a couple of previous posts, the 62-year old Pratchett was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease three years ago, a particularly unpleasant fate for a man so noted for his wit and creativity.  Since then, Pratchett has begun a slow process of deterioration. He has lost the ability to type, but has continued to write and is just finishing the first draft of his next Discworld book, albeit by dictating the content to his assistant.  However, he is aware that this is just the beginning:

I know that the time will come when words will fail me. When I can no longer write my books, I'm not sure that I will want to go on living.

This is not hyperbole.  Pratchett has begun to look into the options for assisted suicide, and has recorded his research in a one-hour documentary entitled Choosing to Die.

I found the documentary a little disturbing. Pratchett focuses on a Swiss organization called Dignitas, that will, for a fee, help someone die, and meets with two people who have chosen to use their service - Peter Smedley, a 71 year old man with motor neuron disease, and Andrew Colgan, a 42 year old man with multiple sclerosis who had already attempted suicide (obviously without succeeding).

The documentary actually follows Peter Smedley through the entire process - yes, the viewer has a front-row seat to his death, as he first swallows a stomach-settler to ensure that the poison will stay down, followed by the poison itself and then a somewhat macabre chocolate treat. (It is Switzerland, after all.) There's a brief horrible moment when he begins to choke and requests water which he is not given, followed by a ghastly rattling noise as his lungs begin to stop working.

Eventually he passes from unconsciousness into death, all under the camera's watchful eye.

And that's where I took a bit of exception to the documentary approach.  Dignitas takes every precaution to ensure that their clients are in full possession of their faculties and completely aware of what they are doing, and there is no pressure applied to follow through on the process.  Peter Smedley is a model of composure and grace throughout, but I have to think that having a camera crew in the room might well stop someone from changing their mind at the last minute - personally, I'd prefer the option of deciding that a few more months of life still had some attraction for me without a zoom lens nearby to record my change of heart.

The documentary ends on a quiet note, with Pratchett looking back to the snow that fell after Peter Smedley's suicide, and pondering his own ending:

I would like to die out in the sunshine...I suppose that sometimes the sun shines in Switzerland.

Death, or more accurately the the anthropomorphic personification of the end of life, is one of the more popular and frequently utilized characters in Pratchett's Discworld books. Death is portrayed as a stern but sympathetic figure, who does not actually end life but who comes to collect the spirit of the departed, and whose calm demeanor is often a relief to the recently departed.  Perhaps this is expressive of Terry Pratchett's philosophy regarding his own death, self-managed or not.

- Sid

Keeping up with the Joneses.

And you, you little shit head... you're staying here.

Ellen Ripley, Aliens

I recently received a somewhat enigmatic text message from someone that I used to work with, suggesting that we should get together for a beer but also requesting that I should call them first to discuss something.  I have to admit that my first thought was Amway™ or some other similar pyramid scheme, but nonetheless I tried to keep an open mind as I dialed their number.

As it turned out, the party in question was planning to spend quite a bit of time travelling around Europe, and was looking for a home for their cat.  There were already a couple of people in line, but since my last cat lasted about 25 years, I seem to have a bit of a reputation as a reliable cat owner.

Sadly, I'm not quite ready to find a replacement for the incomparable Nigel, and since there were other people who were willing and able to step up to the plate in my stead, I didn't feel guilty about turning down the opportunity.

But, full points - if you want to entice a science fiction fan into taking care of a cat, name the cat after the best known feline action character of the last 25 years:  that's right, the cat was named Jones, in honour of the ship's cat on the ill-fated Nostromo in Alien.

However, as is so often the case with roles involving very small children and animals, Jones was actually played by four identical cats.  Yes, if you're a cat, you find three other cats that look the same and split things up so you actually only have to work 25% of the time.

- Sid