Have you ever wondered about how much rain runs off your roof, into the gutter and down the pipe? Your answer is probably “no”. I don’t spend my days considering it either. But heavy downpours used to worry me – the guttering at the front of our house didn’t seem to be able to cope well with torrential rain and the result was that a small area near our front door used to fill up. The soil there is so clay-like that you could probably grab a bucket-full, put it straight on a potter’s wheel and knock up a vase. Even digging two big holes and filling them with gravel didn’t really help. On a couple of occasions I’ve worked for an hour scooping up water, fearful that the level could rise above the damp course (usually at night, in the rain). The solution was quite simple in the end – clear out the gutter, remove the clog of leaves and mud from the down-pipe and fix the leaking joint.

Regular dadams.co.uk readers will remember that last year we had our kitchen renovated. One of the major changes was to remove a window and install french doors, and as a result of this change Mrs A wanted the 50 gallon water butt re-positioned. So I emptied it, did some restructuring of the down pipes, and placed the water butt at the other end of the garden. However, after a wet Summer, followed by a wet Autumn, a wet mild Winter, a quite pleasant Spring and another wet Summer, it became apparent that the water butt wasn’t actually collecting any water. My father-in-law concluded that the gutter was sloping slightly so that water was draining to where the water butt used to be.

Now add in to the story three new fir trees which Mrs A wanted in order to add some privacy to the garden. Our neighbour’s gardener got them at trade price and myself and my friend Derek spent a day planting them (and yes, it rained all day). The gardener advised a lot of watering, every day, even if it rains. It was at this point that Mrs A decided that the water butt would be useful in it’s original position, so once again I restructured the down pipes and moved the water butt.

So here’s the question again… how much rain runs off your roof, into the gutter and down the pipe in a day? When attaching the overflow into the drain I said something to the effect of “it doesn’t matter, it won’t get that full”. It did… less than a day later, after some steady but not catastrophic rain, the 50 gallon container was full and the surplus was draining out. Thinking of the price of water, I rigged up a hose attachment, opened the tap and let the trees have the full 50 gallons (which took over an hour).

Finally, you’ve probably seen the news coverage of the effects of the rain on the unfortunate inhabitants of Cockermouth in Cumbria. Living half-way up a hill I hope that the worst we’ll ever get is a flooded flowerbed. But it’s a sobering thought that this type of flooding can happen close to home, as these pictures of Lotus Park, Staines (2003) on the old dadams.co.uk site demonstrate.

I don’t want to turn this into the fox blog, but I wanted to share this with you. I think it’s wonderful to see foxes in the garden, and it’s even better to see three youngsters as I did this morning. I’m sure they’re siblings from the same litter, and no doubt one of them was the solo visitor who appeared a couple of days ago (probably scouting for a good place to have a snooze).

One of the nippers came up onto the main patio, right near to where I was standing in the dining room, but didn’t oblige by facing the camera.

Click on the small photos for a larger view (and thanks to some jolly clever technology you can then move backwards and forwards like a slide-show).

Since we moved to Adams Tower here in the wilds of Camberley three years ago, foxes have been a familiar sight (especially since our dear old spaniel Molly passed away). This year I’ve seen a pair together only once, but have seen more individual visitors at the front of the house… which isn’t surprising since that’s where I sometimes leave food out for them. I’ve twice seen a badger although they scuttle away very quickly as soon as the security light comes on. Foxes however are more bold, and we sometimes spend a few moments looking at each other before they grab the food and move to a safe distance.

A few weeks ago a mother walked across the raised flower bed outside our lounge, followed by a young one… not exactly a cub but probably not a year old. I’m fairly sure it’s the same one who came into the back garden today and grabbed a quick snooze during a five minute break in the rain.

Young foxy grabbed forty winks while I grabbed my new camera (Panasonic TZ65), he (or she) yawned, decided against a drink from the birdbath (it hadn’t had fresh water for a couple of weeks) and casually walked away. Half an hour later the youngster reappeared and sat for five minutes on the veranda of Lauren’s summer house, and then disappeared again.

Click on the picture for a bigger snapshot, and I may post a couple of photos of young ginger on the Wallpaper page.

My daughter Lauren (Lolli as she is known to her friends and on Twitter) is a girl of many talents – she gets amazing school reports, she plays the flute better than anyone should be able to after just 10 months, and no-one is better at driving the wrong way round a Project Gotham Racing 4 circuit to smash head-first into the other drivers. But her real passion is gymnastics.

She came to the sport fairly late and joined a gymnastics club with the aim of getting into the school team – this was quite a challenge as the Marist Preparatory School has a long tradition of doing very well in the national championships. But I’m very proud of my girl because she stuck to it and eventually was accepted into the school team for the final junior year. The team did very well and took bronze in the Southern finals (and two weeks later they pushed the silver medal team into third place and took silver themselves at another competition).

Since then Lolli has been attending a better gymnastics club than the first two she joined, and today was their own club competition. There were three disciplines – floor, vault and trampette – and a record number of children taking part (I think they said two hundred). Lolli was in a group of girls aged 10 on 1st January 2009 – she did a faultless floor routine, a great vault (always her weakest discipline) and an amazing pike somersault off the trampette. The competition was stiff, I noticed a number of other girls of very good ability, but when the award ceremony took place there was a clear winner in her age group. Lolli took the gold for the floor routine. No sooner had she sat down she was called up again to accept the bronze medal for the vault. And then she was back on the #1 podium again for the trampette. After two golds and a bronze there was only going to be one overall winner, and thus she got a third gold and a trophy.

Well done kid, I’m proud of you. All those medals around your neck and you didn’t even walk with a stoop. Thank you to the current Mrs Adams for proof-reading this entry.

If you’re one of my Twitter disciples, you may know that my car was repaired today… under a tent on my drive-way.

A month and a day ago, the 5 series had an altercation with a brick gate pillar and came off worst. I blame the lady who had placed her unnecessarily large ‘Urban Sherman’ too far forward in the queue for drop-off at school, which meant that I had to squeeze through the entrance gates… and sensing I was too close to her, I compensated by moving a tad too far left. Crunch. Okay, my fault.

Fortunately, I’ve continued to opt for a company car for all these years (not that I don’t care, I felt bad about making a stupid driving error). I rang the lease company, who sounded remarkedly relieved that no other cars were damaged – as the call-centre operative said “that complicates things immensely”. I suggested that I take it to the local BMW service centre but the reply was “no, don’t worry, it’ll probably be repaired at your house”. I checked the date… nope, it wasn’t April the 1st. Repair it on my drive? I don’t think so. An assessor was booked for a week later, and three days later I received another call saying that an assessor was arriving a week later than originally booked. I started to get dubious about this, and phoned the lease company again, asking if they were really serious about this repair on the drive business. The answer was ‘yes’, but see what the assessor says.

The assessor took one look at it and said “yeah, no problem, we repair far worse than that”. He explained that the specialist erects a tent (sorry, mobile workshop) around the vehicle and then uses a very expensive piece of machinery to shape the panel. It involves inserting tiny looped ‘keys’ into the body-work and then pulling the panel into shape with a bar that fits through the loops. They also have the ability to respray the body-work under the tent.

The specialist arrived this morning and quickly erected the tent from a compartment on the top of his van… and then drove the van out leaving the tent in place. Very clever. It was an all-day job, and wasn’t helped by torrential rain. You can see the before and after photos here – and thus my cynical view of whether they really would be able to repair it on my drive was squashed. I guess they deserve a plug… the company is AutoRestore.

I never really noticed this until I watched a video of myself presenting at last year’s Lotusphere Comes To You… I do say “errrr” quite a lot when I do presentations, usually to start a sentence or bridge the gap between two passages of speech. It seems to have become habitual. Maybe I don’t do it all the time, I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it even though I know I do it. A rather detailed analysis of the cause and the remedy suggests that people resort to these linguistic ticks when they’re uncomfortable with the subject matter and when they’re in a situation where they’re more fearful of the judgement.

There are presentations that I do often – right now I could do the Notes / Domino 8.5 overview in my sleep, and without even needing to see the slides. Typically the Lotusphere Comes To You content is something fairly new, in format if not in content, and overall less familiar. The size of the audience doesn’t concern me – I would usually say that speaking to four hundred people is easier than speaking to four. But having said that, with a large and varied audience you have to be mindful of the level you’re pitching at and you can’t solicit feedback as you go about whether they’re understanding what you’re saying.

When LCTY comes round at the end of April, I don’t want to focus on eliminating the errrs and ummms too much – the content is more important. But at the same time I’d like to break what has obviously become a bad habit.

Ever since the wife acquired an iPod and speakers many moons ago, the Christmas play-list has been a feature of the festive season in the Adams household. I nearly used the word ‘treat’ there but then remembered it features some ghastly offerings such as ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham and ‘Wombling Merry Christmas’ by the Wombles. We have some debates about whether some qualify as Christmas songs, such as ‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17 – my argument is that just because it happened to be a hit at Christmas and features some bells at the end, that doesn’t make it a Christmas song. The wife disagrees.

Over the last couple of years I’ve grown increasingly irritated by the fact that if I hear one track I instinctively know which is next, so I suggested to the current Mrs Adams that she at least changes the order. Failing to get any progress with that idea, I decided to create my own Christmas play-list. Naturally Wham got the boot, along with East 17 (because that’s not a Christmas song) and ‘Fairytale Of New York’ which (and I know this won’t be a popular opinion) I can’t abide.

In comes ‘Proper Crimbo’ by Bo Selecta (it’s crap but it’s funny), ‘Little Saint Nick’ by the Beach Boys, Bert Jansch’s version of ‘In The Bleak Midwinter’, ‘Thanks For Christmas’ by XTC  and ‘Christmastime’ by the Smashing Pumpkins which the wife consequently said she wanted too. And there it is, fifty-four top festive songs.

But then I started thinking… if I had to pick just ten, what would they be? This is tricky. A Christmas play-list spans the decades from the Rat Pack offerings of Dean and Frank, through the 1970′s hey-day of Christmas songs (Slade, Wizzard), through to the present day when Christmas songs are seen to be a bit naff. And then you need a bit of choral action. Tricky indeed… but here’s my top ten.

1. I Believe In Father Christmas – Greg Lake
2. Happy Holiday – Andy Williams
3. The Christmas Song – Nat King Cole
4. Happy Christmas (War Is Over) – John and Yoko
5. I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day – Wizzard
6. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen – Perry Como
7. Winter Wonderland – Tony Bennett
8. Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow! – Dean Martin
9. O Holy Night – Nat King Cole
10. Merry Christmas Everyone – Shakin’ Stevens

Okay, let the agreements and disagreements begin.

What do you buy the woman who has everything? A box to put it all in? The wife bought her main Christmas present at the airport on the way to Chicago, and it’s been tucked away ever since. It’s a handbag… can’t remember what make… Gucci or something like that. I’m about as interested in handbags as she is in catadioptric telescopes. Anyway, being a generous sort of guy, I recognise the need to purchase some Christmas surprises for the current Mrs Adams. But what…?

Okay, I have a small list. Then I saw the Technika Viewbox. Excellent, the wife loves her iPod and likes to download music videos from iTunes. And it was reduced to 75 quid. Perfect. So I decided to get down to Tesco to have a look at the technology close-up.

One thing you should be aware of is that we’re only 7 minutes away from the nearest branch of Tesco (which is located right next to one of the UK’s largest branches of Marks & Spencer). Yes, 7 minutes… if you drive there at 03:00. On a Saturday afternoon a few weeks before Christmas it’s a marathon trek. Anyway, I arrived, I parked in the nearest possible parking space to the entrance of Tesco (about half a mile away), bumped into my frolleague Jon Adams (no relation, but we have an amusing story about both walking through the door of 10 Downing Street), and found the Viewboxes. And then it struck me… maybe I should have bought an iPod with me.

After returning home and seeing to a couple of errands (including the usual father-chauffuer weekend job) I made some excuses and returned to Tesco. I parked half a mile from the entrance and walked through the rain, got to the Viewboxes, and stuck in Lauren’s iPod nano (because she has more movies than I do). After 5 minutes of fiddling about I worked out that there’s a setting on the iPod to tell it to output a video signal, and this successfully displayed a movie on the Viewbox’s screen. Pretty good… not Sony / Panasonic quality, but we’re talking 75 quid. At this point I started to over-analyse whether this would be something the wife would use, so decided to return home and do some subtle investigations.

Later – during a commercial break in Get Me A Celebrity, I’m Out Of Here – they showed an ad for the Viewbox. “Terrific” said the wife, “I’ve always wanted something like that”. Excellent. “Darren, pop down to Tesco tomorrow and get one”. Oh great.

So by 10:30 this morning I was back down at Tesco. As there’s fewer places for people to go on Sunday, the traffic was worse (even with my local-boy knowledge short-cut). I parked half a mile away from the door, and made my way to the Viewboxes. Hmmm, less in stock than yesterday, but still quite a few. I tried the wife’s iPod touch on the display model… slightly different procedure for getting it working, but fine nevertheless. I queued, I paid, I walked back to the car, and drove home.

Back in the kitchen the wife removed the Viewbox from the packaging, plugged it in and docked her iPod. She selected ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ by the now botox-ridden Mariah Carey. There was Mariah’s dulcet tones but no image… just some jumping lines. I ensured the iPod was docked properly. I tried my iPod. I tried the wife’s again. Nope… out of all the Viewboxes piled around the display model I’d picked the one that was kanckered.

Back in the car, back down to Tesco, parked slightly more than half a mile away from the door (everyone in Surrey was there now), walked back through the rain, through the door and to customers services. There was a small queue, which got longer as an elderly woman went through the process of a new mobile phone being activated. I was a hair’s breadth away from shouting “blimey love, go home and read the effin’ manual” when her transaction ended. After two more people it was my turn. They swapped it without an argument (that concerns me, I wonder how many more had been returned) and I asked if I could test the new one rather than be subjected to a fifth visit in one weekend. I got it out and plugged it in, and then docked my own iPod. At this point it’s worth noting that I only have one movie on my iPod – the DVD of ‘Incubus Live At Red Rocks’. And thus at full volume, the first song ripped out across the store with the delightful lyrics “Hey mega-lo-maniac, you’re no Jesus, yeah, you’re no f***ing Elvis”. Thankfully this was accompanied by live footage of California’s finest, so I repacked the Viewbox, walked back into the rain and returned home.

The Viewbox is now installed in the kitchen, the wife is extremely happy, she’s downloaded lots of music videos for Christmas songs… but I still need to get her something for Christmas.

I’ve just got back from a trip to Dublin, and before I left I considered that I haven’t travelled many domestic business miles this year. A quick check on the bmi Diamond Club web site confirmed my worst fears… I’ve been downgraded from Silver membership to Blue Plus. Okay, to put this into perspective, it’s not actually my worst fear… I can think of several things that are far worse. Anyway, I digress… this means that I will still be able to get a complimentary cup of tea and sandwich on a bmi flight, but I’ll no longer be entitled to use the business class lounge (unless my ticket qualifies).

So, now I’m going to have to make sure I travel the miles again to re-qualify for Silver membership. This means gathering 16,000 membership status miles. By coincidence (and as if to rub it in) my shiny new Blue Plus membership card arrived today, ready to take over from the Silver card at the end of this month. The enclosed letter explained about the 16,000 miles to re-qualify… or I could just pay £150 now. Do I want to pay £150 for the occasional pleasure of sitting in an uncrowded area and having a free cup of tea and biscuits? Errr… no.

On the subject of travel, a couple of observations…

1. Hotels charge too much for breakfast… €19 this morning for a cuppa, some scrambled egg, bacon, mushrooms and toast. When paying that much I feel obliged to eat as much as possible to get my money’s worth, but I can’t.
2. Airlines have gone soft on people again over “hand luggage”. Can something really be described as “hand luggage” if it requires wheels to move it? And this rule about one item… one is less than two. Half to be precise. One is not two. Surely that’s not hard to understand. And surely it’s not hard to enforce.

Ever since we moved into Adams Towers two years ago, foxes in the garden have become a common sight. Their visits increased since our dear old Cocker Spaniel Molly died last year, and now the appearance of a fox barely warrants a mention. They drink from the bird bath, they trot across the lawn, they appear from underneath Lauren’s playhouse, and they snooze in the bushes to the side of the garage. I’ve just finished watching one tuck into the remains of a roast chicken (no bones) on the patio.

Squirrels are everywhere and I’m almost guaranteed to see at least one everytime I look out the window. My frolleague Aidan once described them as “rats with good PR agents” – personally I think they’re entertaining. They’re also very bold – while eating lunch in the kitchen one day a squirrel climbed the railings next to the back door, and then sat on the kitchen window sill and looked in.

We also see a lot of birds – when the foxes aren’t drinking from the bird bath there’s often a queue of our feathered friends waiting to use it… usually robins and great tits, and the occasional fat pigeon. A couple of times I’ve seen a green woodpecker, quite a sight with his bright green plumage and red head. Also common are the striking jays which lends me to disagree with the RSPB’s decscription – “jays are actually quite difficult to see… they are shy woodland birds, rarely moving far from cover”. Whoever wrote this should come and spend an hour in our kitchen.

Last week I received an IBM Thankyou award (thanks James) and I selected some binoculars. They arrived yesterday morning, and I went upstairs to try them out, thinking that there might be a fox or two in their normal spot in an overgrown area in a garden backing onto our’s. No foxes… but there was deer. Quite a surprise – deer are normally herd animals, and although I might have given you the impression that we’re out in the wilderness we’re actually only half a mile from Camberley town centre. After a while the deer disappeared into some bushes, but about ten minutes later it re-appeared, this time with two more deer. Where they came from I don’t know. This was a first in two years.

Amazingly there was also another first yesterday. About 23:00 I was playing FIFA ’09 on the Wii in the games room at the front of the house, when suddenly the front security light went on. This isn’t unusual, and I looked out of the window expecting to see a fox. But there was something else… a badger… an extremely well-fed badger ambling up the sloped lawn (probably a bit miffed at being rumbled by the security light). I called the wife, but by the time she’d paused Ugly Betty the badger had shuffled off into the night. We know there are badgers around because planning permission on a piece of land nearby had been turned down because it was home to a badger sett.

Given that badgers are almost totally nocturnal and are much more wary of humans than foxes are, I think this will be a rare sighting… but hopefully not the last.