"In a strange, wild frenzy he has fled the ship's bridge"

Last night lovely school friend came round, which is a nice thing in itself, but she brought with her the gift of Star Trek. Specifically, she has shelled out about £3 on eBay for two episodes (City on the Edge of Forever and Trouble with Tribbles) and a documentary stunningly packaged in an oh so realistic “tricorder”. God I love that show. Having not seen an episode for years, I was ready to cringe through them, but no, although we were chuckling along a lot of the chuckles were meant to be there (a lot weren’t – but I like to think they were friendly chuckles. Yes, Star Trek, we’re laughing at you not with you but you’re just so cute! It’s like laughing at a toddler’s funny antics!).

And its not all laughs, I did find I was still interested in the characters and stories too. Why is Star Trek so loved, mused the Shatner on the documentary, and decided “mythology”, and “characters” which is exactly what I was thinking. Kirk=Ulysses, tricking his away around the galaxy. And ripping his shirt a lot to show his manly chest.

It is amazing how everyone, from the actors to the director and the guy who does the music seems to think they are on a stage in a theatre rather than on TV though. It’s like they are making a show for people who are sitting about 20m away from the TV so all gestures, music etc has to be emphasised to the factor of 20. All the scenes are blocked like they are in the theatre, and they actually have scenes, and acts. It’s a strange experience when we are used to more naturalistic acting, faster and more fluid cuts, and incidental music that you don’t even notice.

Summer fashion

I know it's a cliche, but the Brits really can't do summer workwear. On the way to work this morning on the Tube I noticed a number of "looks" being "rocked", few of which were both pleasing and appropriate.

The Scruff (boys): plain shorts and crumpled shirt for those making a bit of an effort, shorts and manky T-shirt for those who really don't care

"I haven't invested in a new summer wardrobe/ acknowledged the fact that I have gone up a dress size since last year" (girls): Very tight skirts or straining sleeveless dresses.

"I do not acknowledge changing seasons"/ "I work in an Artic air-conditioned office": No concession made to the fact it is not winter apart from no coat - suited and booted for the lads, black suits and opaque tights for the girls.

"I am going to the beach" - Revealing/ floaty summer dresses (girls), garish shorts and T-shirt (boys)

"I am thrown into a massive quandary by the hot weather and must put together an outfit based on random items from my wardrobe"/ "We have had more than two hot days in a row so all my summer clothes are now in the wash apart from these weird things" - I really can't describe these outfits, they are just strange. Examples include odd fitted black tuxedo style waistcoat with sides cut out that pushes out wearer's cleavage, and ...actually I was so taken aback by that I can't remember the others.

Since you ask, I am sporting a long dress-type top over jeans. Not really workwear at all, so I would add myself to the list of people who can't dress for summer.

It's in the stars

Am I the only person who as well as reading my own horoscsope reads that for the baby I would have if I got pregnant this month, or rather the sperm and egg that it currently may be?

Today's for example, in the Western Mail: "Let people come to you, Taurus. Quite a few potential paramours can be circulating, but don't be too influenced by someone's apparent genorosity. This is a time to keep your options open."

OK, it's just me.

Islands in the road, that is what we are

For several evenings last week a young woman (not always the same one) sat on the traffic island at the corner of Navarino Road and Wilton Way. She had with her a mat and, I think, a book, and sat there for a few hours at a time. What on earth was she doing? Anyone know?

Tube strikes are no fun

You know, I'm a big fan of unions. And industrial action. "Go unions!" I say, while humming Billy Bragg songs. "Workers unite!"

But even I think the tube drivers are taking the p. And its all very well Boris purportedly laying on extra bike racks, but I'm not cycling from Hackney to Hammersmith. Even if I hadn't given my bike away on freecycle to make room in the hall for a Bugaboo. I got the overland, and at Willesden Junction there was such a scuffle to get on the 8.20 to Clapham that some poor woman lost her shoe down the sizeable gap between the train and the platform. I think she must have got on the train anyway, as I didn't see her retreive it - she must have hopped to work.

In other, completely unrelated news, I was trying to teach small boy about spelling. "What starts with m?" I enthused. "Mmmm...milk! Mmmm...meat! Mmmm...mummy! What else?" He thought. "Mmmm..daddy!"

I think we'll revisit spelling later.

Slow news day in Yorkshire

We get the papers every day in the office and I always agitate for the Western Mail and the Yorkshire Post. No-one can understand this, but I always say I already know what the national news is from Metro - if it's not in Metro, it's not news in my opinion.

Today the Western Mail had a full page on Charlotte Church's great grandmother, taken from the latest census to be released (I assume it's the latest and there is at least a sliver of news there). And the Yorkshire Post had a "news story" about how the next series of Ashes to Ashes would "reveal all". My first thought was: I'm sorry, but how is this news, or indeed related to Yorkshire? My second thought was, ooh.

I'm so sad.