Three weeks ago I dropped my laptop in the bath for the second time. That might sound rather unusual, however what I find even more unexpected is the fact that it still works perfectly!

The first question I expect you want to ask is what on earth was I doing with my laptop in the bath? The answer is fairly simple – I was watching the latest episode of ‘Lost.’

I used to read books in the bath, but with the steam and heat I found that holding a book was neither relaxing nor practical. I like to soak for long periods of time in baths that are just this side of uncomfortably hot, the idea being that they will cool down over the time I am in soaking amid the bubbles – and yes, there are bubbles too! So you see, the problem with books and the bath is that I often dozed off with a book in my hand; a book that is then quickly transformed into paper mache.

I then came up with the idea of watching movies on my laptop while I soaked in the bath. To me this seemed like the perfect union of relaxation, entertainment, and practical cleanliness. It was, I thought, a masterstroke of time management and life balance efficiency!

I located a glass shelf with plastic feet that fitted neatly across my bathtub. Upon this I would place a small hand towel on which my trusty MacBook would be located while I laid back and enjoyed a movie or TV show. It was all very luxurious and amid the subtle and ambient lighting it felt somewhat decadent too.

Of course, a laptop computer (especially a Mac) is considerably more expensive than a paperback book, so when I first saw the glowing screen plunge into the bath water with near slow motion grace, I had reason to rethink my newly found ‘CineSpa.’

At that moment, while the on-screen action continued, the serenity of the bathroom scene was shattered by the quickly unfolding digital drama. Splashing around like swimmer caught in the jaws of a shark I thrashed a watery exit from the tub and reached beneath the bubbles to rescue the MacBook. Initially, like the band on the deck of the Titanic, it continued to work as if nothing were wrong. However, a few moments later the screen flickered then went black as all noise from the laptop ceased and silence fell upon the bathroom.

That was more than two years ago, and surprisingly enough the plunge didn’t kill the MacBook. Like the ‘Six Million Dollar Man‘ the laptop was rebuilt, better and stronger than before. Maybe the wiser thing to have done would have been to revert back to reading soggy books, but I decided to continue with my ‘CineSpa’ times, discovering many a good movie in the tub; The Bucket List, Into the Wild, and Grizzly Man to name but a few.

As the final season of ‘Lost’ got underway there was no denying this was inescapably perfect ‘CineSpa’ material. So as temperatures outside dipped to near arctic lows, I slid into a dangerously hot bath to lose myself in a double bill of the hit TV series while sipping an ice cold deep red berry smoothie.

An hour or so into the show I decided to get out of the tub to go and fix myself another drink. I shut the laptop to save my place in the TV show and reserve battery power, then I stepped out of the bath. At that point, quite how I am not entirely sure, the shelf that the laptop was sat upon lost its footing and an empty drink glass, a half eaten orange, and my gleaming white MacBook fell into the steaming hot water beneath a shroud of cinnamon smelling bubbles.

I quickly snatched the MacBook from the water and held it over the bath as water poured from its various ports. The cold air turned blue as I cursed loudly while quickly removing the battery and calculating how many books I would have to drop in the bath to equal the cost of one drenched MacBook. How on earth did this happen again? I though to myself.

After four days drying out like a drunkard recovering from a hard weekend of liquor lubricated wildness, I tentatively coaxed the MacBook back to life. To my complete surprise it sprang back to life like and began playing ‘Lost’ from the very point where I had paused it before it took the plunge. There seemed to be no ill effects whatsoever.

It’s been more than three weeks now and still the MacBook is behaving as if nothing untoward has happened. Indeed, this post was written on the very MacBook in question. So will this spell an end of laptop use in the bath? Not at all! Besides, it would take something like 30 or so paperback books to equal the current cost of a new MacBook, and at the slow rate I read that equates to something like 11 years in the bath, in which time I would expect to upgrade my laptop about 3 or 4 times. So by that calculation I’m still winning! Sure, that might not be science, but it’s logic as far as I am concerned.

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Bubble bath incident
Teen dies while twittering in bathtub
Laptop-in-the-bath ad banned
Underwater love

Regular readers might be wondering where I have gotten to and if I’ve given up blogging. So this is just a brief post to let you know that I’m still around.

I love writing and if there was some way I could make money blogging my way around the world somehow without having to sell my soul, then I would get right on that. Sadly though, I have yet to find such a cushy number.

Having returned from another quick trip around the world (oh that sounds so gloriously pretentious!) the realities of life have caught up with me and I’ve been pretty busy with work related stuff, hence the lack of regular posts.

However, as they used to say when the TV picture went fuzzy at times; Do not adjust your sets, normal service will be resumed as soon as possible. In other words, BRB.

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While this wasn’t really a trip that included many ‘firsts’ one thing I was introduced to for the first time was Yoga. My host, Phong, has been practicing Yoga for some time and, while he claimed he was no expert, he knew a great deal more about it than I did.

I had always thought that Yoga was what vegans who wore loose fitting clothes and comfortable shoes did instead on watching TV. I’d also noticed that it seemed to be popular among middle aged ladies who drive Mercedes and BMW’s and call everyone darling. It didn’t really seem like my kind of thing, but I’ll try anything once.

Phong took me along to a free Yoga session at a shop called Lululemon in Camberwell, Melbourne. Our instructor was Lelda Kapsis, who apart from being a Yogaologist (or whatever they’re called) is also an actress and a voice over artist.

Pretty soon the room was full of people (and probably some vegans too!) all sitting dutifully on mats before Lelda. In her soft Australian voice overtone she welcomed us to the session then asked if anyone had any medical issues or injuries.

I glanced around the room wondering to myself why such a question would be required if all we were going to do was sit on a mat and pull the occasional funny pose. But, oh boy, my understanding of Yoga was way wrong! While softly spoken and clearly a spiritual kind of girl, there’s little doubt in my mind that Lelda could kick my ass in a gym with very little effort.

I thought Yoga was supposed to be relaxing and leave you feeling chilled out and one with mother earth. But instead, after just a few minutes of introductions and a few closed eye exercises, I was straining to point my butt to heaven while sending my dignity to hell.

It quickly became apparent to me that I was very likely the only Yoga virgin in the room. I probably should have figured that would be the case when the venue was a shop that sold yoga-inspired athletic apparel.

Lelda was giving great instructions explaining how to get into positions with funny names like the ‘Catcow,’ ‘Royal pigeon,’ and the ‘Deputy dog,’ or something like that, I can’t really remember. The problem was I was getting confused. Everything was happening so fast, amplifying my novice status, like playing xbox games with a teenager.

Confident I had gotten into my stride, and at least got the hang of the ‘Deputy dog’ position, I looked up to just check I was in unison with the class. It was then when I realised that I probably needed a ‘Yoga for dummies‘ class. I had the pose right, but had done it the other way to everyone else, they were all pointing left while I was pointing right. I shuffled to the correct pose while struggling to stifle the fit of giggles that was now consuming me.

All the meditation stuff we did between stretches and poses was going over my head as I couldn’t still my thoughts. All I could think of was that if this was being filmed I would very much stand out as the class idiot. The clumsy novice whose failure to figure out his left from right was the least of his problems.

The hour long session was probably not long enough for the vegans in the room, but for me it was quite enough. I’ve clearly got a lot to learn about meditation and Yoga, but at the very least the session was a fun experience and I’ll know what I’m getting myself into next time, and I’m sure there will be a next time.

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Yoga for dummies
Meditation for Dummies
Naked Yoga!
Laughing Yoga
Zen Habits
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I think its a sign of age when you start saying stuff like “Christmas has come around so quickly this year.” As if it were capable of coming around faster that last year.

I found a funny website that you might enjoy spending a few minutes browsing. sketchysantas.com is a collection of submitted pictures of some sketchy looking Santa’s that have been scaring children over the years. Some of the pictures are hilarious, and as I was looking at them and laughing I started to wonder if it was really okay for me to be laughing at the obvious terror of small children.

Santa is a funny character when you think about it. We teach our young children (and indeed adults) to be deeply fearful and suspicious of “strangers” and never to talk to them. “Strangers” are not to be trusted under any circumstances, yet on this one night a year we tell children that this fat old man is going to break into their home and come into their bedroom while their parents sleep in another room, but this time it’s entirely safe and okay.

Eventually they learn that -spoiler alert!- Santa isn’t real and that in fact the reason why Daddy looked a lot like Santa is because Daddy IS Santa! I can’t remember when or how I learned that Santa wasn’t real. My brother probably told me, or my overly intelectual friend Darryl who likely constructed some convoluted ’scientific’ experiment with his chemistry set to determine the truth behind Santa’s logistical mastery over Christmas eve.

I wonder though, how does this work for religious people who tell their children that Santa is delivering their gifts? When a religiously indoctrinated child realises that Santa isn’t real do they then start to wonder if Daddy might also be God too?

“Well Johnny, I admit Santa isn’t real, but God really IS real. And this time I mean it, he really is, honestly!”

Anyway, I hope you all have a great Christmas and that ‘Santa,’ whomever he might be, brings you all that you wished for.

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See some sketchy Santas at sketchysantas.com
Funny Christmas decorations

Simon’s top tip for travel: Embrace local ways and customs.

When traveling it’s always a rewarding experience to embrace the local culture as much as possible. As you can see in the picture above, here in America’s Pacific North West I have immersed myself in the rich and diverse culture of the United States.

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2009 Year of the Snuggie
Video : Snuggie commerical (Yes, this is a real ad on US TV!)
Video : Sarah Palin’s Greatest Hits
Going Rogue by Sarah Palin
The Snuggiesutra

My friend Becky is an American citizen from the Pacific North Western city of Seattle. She is not currently, and has never been, on the FBI’s most wanted list or indeed in any trouble with the authorities whatsoever. She’s your average honest hard working American girl. However, to the UK Border Agency Becky Lewis is a criminal who must be deported!

Becky has been traveling across the UK over the summer, enjoying a little time out of her ordinary day-to-day life with money she had been saving for just such an adventure. Along the way she’s been couch surfing and volunteering on non-commercial organic farms with an organisation known as WWOOF (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms). It’s been an exciting year for her, but thanks to UK immigration her time in Britain came to an abrupt and unpleasant end.

Her ordeal started when we recently returned to the UK from Croatia where we had enjoyed a few days of late summer sun in on the Istrian peninsula. My brother has an apartment in Rovinj so the few days we spent in Croatia was a cheap escape. However, had I known what lay in store for us I would never have gone.

As we stood in the immigration line to re-enter the UK we joked with one another about how surly faced the gate agents looked as they inspected passports of the people who stood before them, treating them with the usual kind of contempt that anyone who has been to an airport can attest to.

I always try to be pleasant with immigration officials, but most of the time they come across as disputatious little people itching to issue punishment for even the most minor of infractions. Their mean disposition probably comes from the lack of job satisfaction that must go along with being the traffic wardens of a countries border, uniformed drones programmed for only the most mundane of duties.

A gate agent motioned for us to approach him. Spitting commands at us in his thick Indian accent the agent sat on his throne behind the safety of a sheet of plexiglass. Perhaps feeling like he was keeping England safe he coldly ignored my attempts at pleasantries in a miserable manner similar to the weather that had welcomed us back to this rainy little island.

He waved me passed with little more than a grunt and I assumed Becky would be grunted back into the UK a few moments later, but no. Apparently her passport had not been stamped by the American immigration department when she re-entered the U.S. after a trip to the UK earlier in the year. This oversight by the American authorities was a “red light” to the uniform wearing unarmed gatekeeper.

Excited at the break in the monotony of his dreary job the gate agent started to ask Becky further questions about her the time she was spending in the UK. Where had she been? How was she affording a six month trip? And what had she been doing? Being an honest soul with nothing to hide Becky answered his questions in the belief that this was simply a minor delay, but unfortunately her honesty was her undoing.

She told the uptight immigration official that as part of her trip to the UK she had done a little volunteer work on some non-commercial organic farms. Perhaps sensing that he might have an opportunity to excursive the little power that his position afforded him the agent asked her to clarify this.

As part of her self funded trip to the UK Becky had set up joined an organisation called ‘WWOOF‘ through which she did unpaid volunteer work on small scale organic farms. For her trouble the ‘farmers’ provided her with a place to stay. To be clear, this DID NOT involve any kind of financial compensation and was something Becky did only to meet interesting people across the country.

Unfortunately for her the immigration officer felt that this constituted “work” and therefore was outside of the bounds of her general visitors visa. She was then detained for further questioning whereupon it was decided that she should be deported, not back to the United States, but to Croatia because this is where she had just come from!

Before she was deported she was taken into custody and jailed in an Immigration Prison called Yarl’s Wood Immigration Removal Centre. The UK border agency are sensitive about Yarl’s Wood being referred to as a ‘prison,’ however with it’s high barbed wire topped walls and lock-up wings it is only not a prison by name. Indeed the facility comes under the authority of the HM Inspectorate of Prisons!

Photographed, fingerprinted, and searched numerous times, Becky was processed into the controversial immigration jail where she would stay for two nights before being taken back to the airport and put on the first flight back to Croatia.

To say that I was furious with the heinously draconian decision to deport her would be a master of understatement. Becky had at worst made a small mistake which could have been dealt with by issuing a verbal or written warning. She was only seeking to enter the UK for two more weeks before leaving to travel to Nepal where she would be teaching children in an orphanage.

Documentation of her onward flights and Nepal trip, and even documentation proving that she would be in the U.S. for Christmas were ignored by chief immigration officer Tony Simon who was to be judge and jury in her case. Rather than using his discretion and treating Becky, a U.S. citizen and therefore a friend of the UK, with the respect and consideration one would expect a friend to be shown, he decided to jail and deport her regardless of the effect.

According to WWOOF UK recent changes to UK immigration laws have confused the issue of ‘wwoofing’ in the UK. Indeed immigration officer Tony Simon apparently told Becky that even couch surfing would be considered a violation of a visitors visa to the UK as it allows a visitor to “extend their stay” in the UK. This statement is at the very least contentious and would seem to reveal something of the legalistic and obnoxiously disagreeable attitude of Stanstead airport’s chief immigration officer Tony Simon.

Angered by the outrageous decision but unable to effect it in any way I felt I should purchase a ticket back to Croatia on the same flight Becky was to be deported on so as to be there for my friend. I collected the luggage she had left at my house and organised another apartment for us to stay at in Croatia. From there we spent a rain soaked week reorganizing her onward plans.

I remain shocked and ashamed at the way Becky was treated by UK immigration. Chief immigration officer Tony Simon undoubtedly wasted tax payers money putting Becky through this ordeal that was, for us both, extremely costly, stressful and time consuming.

In the end, while I doubt we’ll be seeing her return to the UK again any time soon, I’m happy to report that Becky was able to rearrange her onward travel plans and make it to Nepal as planned. I will be writing to the UK authorities to express my anger at the way she was treated, though I have little faith that there will be any redemption in this story.

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A Yarl’s Wood detainee speaks out
Britain looks to jail more visitors
UK to build Europe’s largest immigration jail
WWOOF advice on UK immigration
C4 News – Confusion rife in UK border agency removal cases
Inside Yarl’s Wood: Britain’s shame over child detainees
BID – Bail for UK immigration detainees
HM Inspectorate of Prisons report on Yarl’s Wood
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