A Nokia Affair and the Change of Sex

I received this leaflet from The Carphone Warehouse a couple of days ago, and I felt outraged.

First of all, I was alleged to have had a relationship with Nokia 6610i.

I categorically state that I have never had this phone in my hand.

In its exclusive interview to The Carphone Warehouse reporter, this impostor states that it'd given me the best years of its battery. Considering I've been in England for three years and have recently got a new, third, phone, this "best years" statement is an exaggeration, to say the least.





Moreover - is this a common phoney psychology, excuse the pun? - my bel ami says:

'... In my mind, our relationship was solid. Then The Carphone Warehouse started flaunting younger, sexier models. I mean, these latest phones all seem to be more attractive... I began to feel like I couldn't compete with them anymore... All I want is for Julia to be happy. So as difficult as this may be for me to say, I'll understand if I'm traded-in for a younger model. After all, it's not every day Julia gets a fantastic opportunity like this... Whatever Julia decides, I will always be grateful for the life we've had together'.

What sort of altruism is this??? 'They are younger, sexier, and throw themselves at Julia, so I'll step aside' - if you're so insecure about yourself, dear, then I don't even want to know you. Had you really given me the best years of your battery, you would've known well that Julia never went after the features.

As if this wasn't enough, there came this phrase:

... they'll give him up to £20 for me and 10% off any accessory when he upgrades to a monthly contract.

When I first read it, it didn't ever occur to me that 'he' and 'him' were related to myself. Then the truth came down upon me. Whereas at first I didn't notice anything unusual about an allusion to the 'youngier, sexier models', I suddenly realised that such expression was employed because I was considered male.

OMG...

I couldn't believe it. I closed the brochure and looked at the address. And then I saw it. The brochure was addressed to 'Mr Julia S<...>', with all correct details below. So, first I was alleged to have had a phone which I never had, and then I was also turned into a man, thanks to someone's mistake.

I don't actually have 'feelings' for my phone, although every time I dropped my first English phone, I felt ashamed. Having said that, I wasn't ashamed that I was hurting this poor mechanism, but rather that I couldn't hold it properly. That phone effectively died after being accidentally dropped into a sink, but again, instead of showing remorse for the phone, I was embarrassed at myself.

The younger, sexier models 'throw' themselves at me, screaming: 'Let's get together, Julia', 'Fancy a fresh start with me, Julia?', 'Ready for a new relationship, Julia?', 'We're made for each other, Julia'. It feels like the old adage of a man as a social animal is being taken to the extreme. Not only that you're expected to socialise and to have someone in your life just for the sake of it, but the same rule is now extended to the ownership of inanimate objects.

Obviously, I'm not about to give in. I've got the Sony Ericsson phone in my life, my relationship with it (*him*) is very satisfying. Younger models can throw themselves at someone else. And let's hope they get the sex right this time.

I searched YouTube today, oh boy...

This is the Beatles' Shakespearean skit made in 1964 for the British television. I have had no idea about it until today when I found this video on YouTube, and I am now ever so thankful to debsue, who'd posted it. In two words, it's incredible and unbelievably talented - as anything that the Fab Four had done. Oh, and - it's hilarious! Ironically, though, knowing what had become of them by the 1970s, one has to utter:

...never was a story of more woe

Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

One of My Favourite Poems ('IF' by R. Kipling)

The first time I read this poem, I was at school, and I remember well we were preparing to either a quiz or a matinee, so we had to learn an English poem by heart. I believe this was about 13-14 years ago. I also remember that at first I took it simply as a poem by Rudyard Kipling, and only much later - when I was already a student at the University - did I begin to realise that this poem means much more to me. Effectively, with another couple of poems and a few quotations, these lines summarise my approach to things in life.

I shall also give a link to the Russian translation of this poem, by Mikhail Lozinsky. As far as I am concerned, Lozinsky was one of the best ever Russian translators. At the turn of 1930-40s, battling a deadly illness, he had been working on the Russian translation of Dante's Divine Comedy. Among his other translations, one of my favourite is definitely Shakespeare's Hamlet. And, of course, Kipling's If.

So, enjoy the poem, and if you have got any thoughts or memories about it, do post a comment about these. :)

(For Russian translation ("Заповедь"), please follow the link. The text comes after a poem by Coleridge).


If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master,
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

...it's snowing!..

This post is going to be very short, and there's a big chance that by the time I finish writing it, it'll stop snowing, as well. But - at the moment - it is snowing!

Alas, I'm not good enough at uploading pictures from my mobile; besides, the snow comes down with rain, thus so far you can only see it in the air. But my winter season has been made, anyway.

It doesn't always take much to make me happy.


Update

As I predicted, snow has stopped. This was in Clifton, kind of between Manchester and Bolton. And in Glossop it snowed heavily enough for Richard to take a few awesome pictures! Do have a look - and you'll probably understand why I'm so ecstatic about the snow.

Sonnet no. 3 (Edna St Vincent Millay)

Recently I've discovered the works of Edna St Vincent Millay, and I have already briefly analysed one of her sonnets here. I've also translated her poem, Thursday, from A Few Figs from Thistles (1922).

But I must admit, I have fallen for Four Sonnets from the mentioned 1922 collection, and especially for the sonnet no. 3. I must also admit that, as I'm writing this, I'm still very much affected by this poem. I read it as a declaration of a free-spirited woman of her love for an equally free-spirited man, or better else - to liberate ourselves of any gender connotations - a declaration of a free-spirited individual to their soulmate. I am aware that the words Millay uses to describe the object of her affection - 'wanton', 'light', 'false', 'more changeful than the tide' - do not exactly conjure an image of a nice, reliable person. But Millay projects herself as 'faithful to love's self alone' and asserts that she would desert her beloved and seek another with the same ease - a hardly better image. Yet she's not to do so because they challenge each other, their freedom constantly makes them rediscover themselves and one other, and their love for freedom ultimately binds them together.



Oh, think not I am faithful to a vow!
Faithless am I save for love's self alone.
Were you not lovely, I would leave you now:
After the feet of beauty fly my own.
Were you still not my hunger's rarest food
And water ever to my wildest thirst,
I would desert you - think not, but I would! -
And seek another as I sought you first.
But you are mobile as the veering air,
And all your charms more changeful than the tide,
Wherefore to be inconstant is no care:
I have but to continue at your side.
So wanton, light and false, my love, are you,
I am most faithless when I most am true.

The Storm Shifts the Signboards (H. C. Andersen)

Here is my attempt to save us all from this depression, be that from mild weather or from rattling winds. The BBC report about radio reshuffle has reminded me of a lovely fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen, The Storm Shifts the Signboards. It was one of my favourite Andersen's tales, and I'm quite sure I first heard it recorded on a vynil disk. It opens with this lovely phrase:

In olden days, when grandfather was just a little boy and wore red trousers, a red jacket, a sash around his waist, and a feather in his cap - for that's the way little boys dressed in his childhood when they wore their best clothes - so many things were different from nowadays.

I adore this opening. The artist who read the tale was male, and his voice was mature, a bit husky and very kind, like a real grandpa's voice. It so happened that I had never had a grandfather telling me fairy tales, so the record-player was my imaginary grandpa on this occasion. And so the Grandpa was telling me that he had come to a big town, and

that first night he came to the big town, the weather was worse than any we ever have read about in the papers, a storm such as there had never been within man's memory. All the air was full of roof tiles; old wooden fences were blown over; a wheelbarrow even ran for its life by itself along the street. The wind howled in the air; it whistled and it shook everything. It was indeed a terrible storm. The water in the canal ran over the banks, not knowing where it belonged. The storm swept over the town, carrying the chimneys with it; more than one old, proud church tower bent and has never been quite straight since.

Above all, the storm shifted the signboards. My favourite 'shift' has always been this one:

The sign "Establishment for Higher Education" was moved to the pool hall, and the Establishment itself received a board inscribed, "Babies Brought up Here by the Bottle."

I really like this Andersen's tale, because he is better known for his beautiful, romantic and sometimes forlorn stories, like The Wild Swans, The Swineherd, The Steadfast Tin Soldier, The Little Mermaid, etc. In The Storm Shifts the Signboards Andersen reveals his talent of a satirist, which in turn makes one appreciate his literary talent differently, not simply that of a composer of all those beautiful fairy tales, but as a witty, subtle and versatile author.

Getting back to our weather changes, Andersen tells us that there had never been such a storm again in his Grandpa's time, or much later. But, I feel, if those winds continue blowing (and we are told, they will), we might very well see another signboard reshuffle.


Links:
Hans Christian Andersen, The Storm Shifts the Signboards (English translation by Jean Hersholt)
Stormen flytter Skilt (Fascimile and text in Danish)
Der Sturm zieht mit den Shieldern um (German translation)
La tempestad cambia los rotulos (Spanish translation)
Unfortunately, it seems that the French translation (L'Orage déplace les enseignes) by Regis Boyer is only available from print: Andersen, H. C., Les Oeuvres (Paris, Gallimard, 1992). Italian translation (La tempesta sposta le insegne) by Kirsten Bech is in: Andersen, H. C., Fiabe (Roma, 1994).

The Winds of Change

It looks like this winter Britain and Russia have become inexplicably and inextricably connected by some changes in weather. As you know, I was born and grew up in Moscow. Normally, at this time of the year the temperature would be well below -10 Celsius. As I love skiing, I would only be able to ski while it's above -15; once it was below that point, skiing would be dangerous to one's health (unless one was dying to experience pneumonia).

Now, I look at the BBC weather forecast, and what do I see? I see that they forecast +6 C. this Friday in Moscow. This is normally the weather for mid-March.

The BBC reported yesterday on the effect such mild winter is having on people and animals. It is, in one word, depressive. I've spoken to someone with whom I used to study at the University in Moscow, and the person admitted being depressed. The bears in the zoo didn't hybernate. It may sound amusing, but in Russia we are used to the heaps of snow in the streets, and skiing, and skating, and wearing huge winter coats, and maybe if this kind of weather visits my country next winter my people will take it differently.

Better still, the winds (one of which is currently howling and wailing at my window) have been playing tricks with radio listeners. Thus, people in Somerset had got a taster of Moscow radio, while people in Canada were stunned to listen weather forecast for Somerset. Unfortunately, the report doesn't say what radio station had gone with the winds to Moscow.

I have experienced my bit of depression in the winter 2003/4, which was my first winter in England. When it snowed for about half an hour on New Year's night, I was over the Moon. But otherwise it was lonely and unhappy. Admittedly, I probably couldn't concentrate on this too much, as I was studying, so my mind was preoccupied with other things. But looking at what I was writing at the time, I realise that the climatic change which I could by no means escape did leave its mark.

How Wicked Is Wiki?

Although Robin has suggested that I should write an Ordsall Hall article for Wikipedia, I didn't do this yet. Instead I have recently found a lecture read in the fall of 2006 at the University of California on the subject of search, storage and retrieval of information. In the first twenty minutes of it, the lecturer, Paul Duguid, tells about his failed attempt to introduce some important changes to a Wikipedia article on Daniel Defoe. Some of mistakes he found:

• the article introduced the exact dates of birth and death for Defoe - in fact, these are uncertain, although it is believed that Defoe had mentioned his DOB in Robinson Crusoe.
• his father was a butcher - he wasn't
• his name was a nom de plume - his early works are written anonymously
• he was born in Stoke Newington - he wasn't,

and so forth.


Now, if we go to Defoe's page at Wiki, it seems that Duguid's efforts have brought some results. Defoe's date of birth is now dated between 1659 and 1661, his father is no longer a butcher (although a member of the Butcher's Company), etc. But, as Paul writes in his blog, The Quality of Information, Wikipedia may go to print, and in this case they need to be strict with their authors. He blogs a lot about whether or not Wikipedia can be trusted.

What sometimes stuns me about Wiki is its choice for articles. Russian Wiki, for instance, is still very much behind her English or French sisters, but some content is hardly of an encyclopedic nature. I was amazed to find out that a girl who's only just made one film and hasn't yet received any prizes etc., has already got a Wiki page. This has clearly been done for promotion, and I don't honestly think that this is in line with the spirit of encyclopedia (even the one written by 'simple' people).


Links:
Paul Duguid's blog, The Quality of Information, http://infoqual.blogspot.com/
Berkeley University Podcasts and Video Lectures, http://webcast.berkeley.edu/
History of Information course, the lecture mentioned in this post is called 'Search, Storage and Retrieval'.
Previous choice of the Berkeley video lectures available from Google Videos (David Lynch on cinema and Modern Literary Manuscripts).

In the Mood for Communication

On January 7, one of my friends at the Moscow State University has invited me to join an exclusive online student club. Since then I've been finding out all sorts of things about my friends and those with whom I studied. It's all a bit nostalgic. In this 'nostalgic' mood I registered on another webdatabase of students, where I found people from my school.

I've got the impression that in the three years that I was away, one half of my friends got married, and another half have been working really hard for the benefit of the discipline (History). Most of them seem to be working in the museums and galleries (hopefully, they'll help with getting a discount!), as well as on TV. Some teach.

Also I need advice, please. Exzibit.net, where quite a few of my articles have been published, is now apparently extinct. I found out today, and it feels embarrassing that I'm linking to the website, whereas it no longer works. It showcased my writing, and obviously I use those texts as references on my CV. I would appreciate any advice on what maybe the best platform for republishing them. The texts presumably still exist in cache, but I cannot refer to that.

Thanks!

Oh, and by the way, it's New Year again, old style. So, all best!


Update: Exzibit.net is working again. It didn't work yesterday, and I've set up a WordPress blog for the texts. I think I will still use it, though.

Trains and Lions

First of all, my story of (mis)using trains continues this year. Yesterday I was going to Warrington from Manchester Piccadilly. I was going to take 12.07 train to Liverpool. I was on the platform 14 at 12.02. A train was getting ready to depart. The board listed stops for the train.

In all five minutes, from 12.02 to 12.07, it never occurred to me that I was standing right by my train. Only when the train has disappeared and I heard the announcement of the train to Blackpool and saw a change on the timeboard, only then did I realise that I have just missed my train to Liverpool.

I'll be going to London again at the end of this month. I won't be surprised if I end up in Glasgow.

In fact, when yesterday I was checking train times on Nationalrail.co.uk, the system didn't reply to my query straight away, claiming a mistake. There could be several reasons for a mistake, including this one:

...you may be looking for an unexisting destination, e.g. London to Birmingham via Glasgow...


Anyway, my heart warmed when I saw this ITN video of a hugging lion. I think it's a good proof of the animals being able to 1) think, 2) be human (almost). If anybody puts this video up on YouTube, please let me know. We all need that lion hug. :-)

As a matter of fact - this is just a piece of professional knowledge, nothing else - Gerald of Wales, a 12th c. chronicler, in The History and Topography of Ireland mentions a story of a lion falling in (and reportedly making) love with a lady. He claims to have seen that in Paris. Unfortunately, Gerald has got a very prudish take on this story, maintaining the impossibility of such behaviour. Well, as we see from the video, this 'beastly love' was probably nothing more, but an affectionate hug.

Update. Thanks to Craig who has heard my plea to find the 'lion hug' video on YouTube... and here it is! Thank you, Craig! And thank you to the rescuer, we all commend you!

Mood: *purr*

Something I always knew

I always knew Paris would be my city - despite the fact that I've never been there. And I never actually take interest in different online polls, like this one. But this time it's different, because it looks like I do belong in Paris. If I am to make my New Year resolution come true, then this will be my destination.

You Belong in Paris

Stylish and a little sassy, you were meant for Paris. The art, the fashion, the wine, the men! Whether you're enjoying the cafe life or a beautiful park... You'll love living in the most chic place on earth.

What City Do You Belong In?

Notebooks in Russian

Apparently - if I am to believe my dashboard - this is my 100th post on Notebooks. It's kind of symbolic because when I tried to write a diary years ago, I only managed some 30 posts between 1994 and 1998.

I think it means I've finally got something to write about. ;-))

So, I'm using this post to announce to my Russian-speaking visitors that I've started a Russian version of Notebooks over at LiveJournal.com. The content over there is intended to be more literary, but some topics from Notebooks will be continued there, as well.

This is the link, which will also appear in Author's Links - http://loscuadernos.livejournal.com.

See you there! And, in case you're wondering, Notebooks don't end.

and what did YOU do on the global orgasm day?

In the ancient times nations used to stop wars during the Olympic Games. These days some people realise that sport is not enough, so they propose to use the positive energy of an orgasm to the same end - i.e. peace.

The first Global Orgasm Day took place on December 22, 2006. If you're Amélie Poulain, you probably know, exactly how many people are having an orgasm this very minute. And you will think: surely, there's so much positive energy flowing right now, what's the point of creating a positive outbreak three days before Christmas?

Well, the idea is simple: what we do every day, we do for pleasure. What we do on December 22, we do for peace. Think of it in John Lennon's words: 'Give peace a chance' and 'make love, not war'. And this is exactly the underlying idea of the Global Orgasm movement.

You can read more at the campaign's official website, www.globalorgasm.org. One thing I will say - why did they only use women's pictures? Isn't it sexist?

There are no actual figures on the number of orgasms, but there is the statistics of visits to the Global Orgasm page on December 22. So, the most peace-loving people live in Madrid - the whopping 5286. Moscow did well, too - 1366 (Gosh, I'm proud of my home city!). London managed 899, with no results (as it seems) for Manchester. But I heard people in England had left their Christmas shopping till the last minute in 2006, so that may be the reason for such poor performance.

Folks, this needs changing in 2007. Put December 22 in your diary as the Global Pea..., I mean, Love-Making Day.

For my part, I blogged about Art in Liverpool. I do love art, and I do love making art.

And in Moscow there was finally a premiere of Wolfhound, on December 22, too. The film's official site is currently working in Russian and English, but French and German versions are coming up soon. To go to the English page, click on the shield.

And this is the French audiotake on the global participation in the peace-making process. It highlights some things that people did on that day, like snorring or shooting. The audio file was featured in Libération Online. As a matter of fact, Paris did very well, too - 3448.

Once upon a time in Manchester...

...there was a screening of the film Sophie Scholl - Die letzten Tage by Marc Rothemund. We did an interview with him at Cornerhouse, the article on which you can read here. And on the web there is a video of Mark talking to David Lamble. It's long, so make sure you're nice and cosy if you listen to it.

Now, Marc is currently shooting his new film, called Pornorama. Shall I say it sounds intriguing? It certainly does. In the words of Marc himself, he wanted to commemorate the stiff atmosphere of the 1960-70s Germany, in which some dangerous minds (probably inspired by anything from Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! to Deep Throat) decided to shoot a porn movie.

I hope, when the film is released, Cornerhouse welcomes Marc again, not least because he's a very witty and passionate speaker. With the subject of his new film in mind, I'm sure the Q&A session that could follow would be absolutely unforgettable.

A Sonnet (Edna St Vincent Millay)

We talk of taxes, and I call you friend;
Well, such we are, but well enough we know
How thick about us root, how rankly grow
Those subtle weeds no man has need to tend,
That flourish through neglect and soon must send
Perfume too sweet upon us and overthrow
Our steady senses, how such matters grow
We are aware, and how such matters end.
Yet shall be told no meagre passion here;
With lovers such as we forevermore
Isolde drinks the draught, and Guinevere
Receives the table's ruin through her door,
Francesca, with the loud surf at her ear,
Lets fall the coloured book upon the floor.


The poem tells about the nascence of passion and its possible perils. We know the forlorn stories of Tristan and Isolde and of Lancelot and Guinevere. Yet in fact, this sonnet has more to do with Dante's Divine Comedy, than with the mentioned medieval romances.

At the end of Canto V, Dante is talking to Francesca da Rimini, who in about 1280 was married to Gian Ciotto ('Lame') Malatesta, signor of Rimini. Francesca gradually fell in love with Gian Ciotto's younger brother, Paolo. Dante might even have known Paolo personally, which in turn may explain the inclusion of this tragic story in his opus. When Gian Ciotto found outabout the adultery, he had killed both lovers. This happened probably in 1286, and Dante's seems to be the only contemporary mention of this episode.

This is the text:

115 Then I turned to them again to speak
116 and I began: 'Francesca, your torments
117 make me weep for grief and pity,
118 'but tell me, in that season of sweet sighs,
119 how and by what signs did Love
120 acquaint you with your hesitant desires?'
121 And she to me: 'There is no greater sorrow
122 than to recall our time of joy
123 in wretchedness - and this your teacher knows.
124 'But if you feel such longing
125 To know the first root of our love,
126 I shall tell as one who weeps in telling.
127 'One day, to pass the time in pleasure,
128 we read of Lancelot, how love enthralled him.
129 We were alone, without the least misgiving.
130 'More than once that reading made our eyes meet
131 and drained the colour from our faces.
132 Still, it was a single instant overcame us:
133 'When we read how the longed-for smile
134 was kissed by so renowned a lover, this man,
135 who never shall be parted from me,
136 'all trembling, kissed me on my mouth.
137 A Galeotto was the book and he that wrote it.
138 That day we read in it no further' (Canto V)


What is obviously different, is the angle at which Dante and Millay looked at Francesca's story. In The Divine Comedy, Francesca and Paolo had been put into the Second Circle of Inferno:

37 I understood that to such torment
38 the carnal sinners are condemned,
39 they who make reason subject to desire (Canto V)

Nevertheless, as Francesca later explains,

103 'Love, which absolves no one beloved from loving,
104 seized me so strongly with his charm that,
105 as you see, it has not left me yet' (Ibid.)

It is this 103rd line that Millay seems to be taking as a starting point for her poem. Faithful to Love, the author actually invites 'Francesca' to 'fall the coloured book upon the floor'. Millay's sonnet is almost a celebration of sudden passions, and the reference to a coloured book may be construed both in medieval and contemporary sense. The reference to Francesca da Rimini links a 'coloured book' to an illuminated manuscript, which is exactly what Francesca and Paolo would have been reading at the end of the 13th c. But Millay's poem was written in the 20th c., and, whether in 1280s or in 1920s, the lovers are to be brought together by a book that narrated a love story. Surely, there were a lot of coloured books of such kind in Millay's days?


[The English text of The Divine Comedy is taken from Princeton Dante Project].

Q & A - 2

Odd Tourist Quotes from 2006 demonstrate the unrivalled abundance of curiosity on the part of the visitors. Questions range from

'Who performs at the circus in Piccadilly?'

through

'Is Edinburgh in Glasgow?'

to

'Why on Earth did they build Windsor Castle on the flight path of Heathrow?'

I don't think I ever asked a daft question (not that I remember). However, I gave daft answers. The daftest story, The Blackpool Flag, is narrated here, although a lot of personal things mentioned in it have changed in 2006.

Anyway, there were other funny situations. Once on a quiz show they asked a woman, what darjeeling was. Clueless, she kind of angrily replied: 'A curry?'


The best yet was this story from my first radio placement, where I had to prepare questions for a quiz (for my sins, I guess). I detested this routine: almost every other question I suggested would turn out to be too hard. Bearing in mind there were three categories of questions (Easy, Medium, and Hard), my Sisyphus labour could hardly be any harder, excuse the pun. Then one day I came up with this beautiful 'easy' question, and it turned into a fiasco. The dialogue between a presenter and a listener went, as follows:

P: How many toes are there on two feet? [The answer is, obviously, 10. - JS].
L: (after a pause, confused) Do I need to count big toes?

Morale: You can never tell.

In the Mood for a New Year

One of the biggest differences between England and Russia is the length of Xmas-New Year break. In England, the break has finished today. In Russia, people are relaxing (to a different extent) from December 30 until January 8.

So I thought I'd put up this video that I came across a couple of months ago, and hopefully it'll put you in the mood for work. Thanks to kroneage, although, as he tells us, it's not his dog, nor his video. Well, sorry, Kyle, but you're my source on this occasion, so I'm linking to you. I don't think you'd mind. ;-))