On the 12th of August 1990, I sent out an email. It went to a handful of friends, under the name “Toxic Custard Workshop Files.” It was the first of many, initially made up of (allegedly) humorous writing, though these days it’s mostly the previous week’s blog posts.

Tonight, 30th of June 2008, I’m sending out the 900th of these emails (more or less; the numbering isn’t exact). For some reason, I’m not sure why, people are still reading them.

• Toxic Custard — I haven’t had time to update it much recently
• History of Toxic Custard
• Subscribe to the weekly emails

The over-arching rule is: Don’t waste people’s time.

Don’t invite everyone in the known universe, unless they’re all genuinely needed on the phone at once. Talk to them individually if possible; it’s often more efficient.

If plans change and some people aren’t needed after all, let them know.

If you have people in different states/cities, use a service with a frecall 1800 number dialin, or at least a local 1300 dialin. People dialling in from home don’t want to incur a long distance bill just to sit on the phone for an hour to say their ten words.

Start the conference on time. If you intended to kick things off at 10 past, schedule the damn meeting for 10 past.

April 2005:

September 2005:

May 2008:

June 2008:

Richard Heinberg:

“I think what the oil consuming nations really need to understand is that this is not a temporary blip in the oil market. What we’re seeing is a fundamental and permanent change in the global energy economy. We will be dealing with the fallout of this for many, many years to come as prices continue to escalate. Whole industries are going to have to restructure and downsize as a result of this. We’re going to have to rebuild our transport infrastructure in much of the industrialised world, because we built it on the basis of cheap oil, and cheap oil is going to be a thing of the past.”

Hope you’re paying attention to this, Mr Rudd, Mr Brumby.

Jon Faine, when he’s in the studio, is like an orchestra conductor. You don’t obviously see it when listening to the radio, but he waves his arms around to silently signal to his producer to keep the caller on-air, or mute them. It must be an effort to keep talking informatively, encourage the callers’ thoughts out too, and to effectively direct the programme as well.

His hand will be up to keep the caller on-air, and then he’ll swing it down when he wants them muted. Obviously the producer(s) must be watching him like a hawk. It reminds me of when Daryl would signal to cut the applause at the start of Hey Hey It’s Saturday.

I don’t know if other radio hosts do the same thing. I’ve only been in a radio studio twice — once with Faine, and once with Lindy Burns. Others might do something similar.

I always find it amusing when someone gets on air and manages to stall the whole programme. It should be obvious it’s their turn to talk, because he greets them by name. You know, something like:

Faine: Hello, Barry from Malvern

Barry: Hello Jon, how are you.

Faine: I’m good thanks Barry.

…

Faine: You’re on-air Barry.

Barry: Oh!

If they call you, then it’s usually a bit different. They know that you (probably) know how to behave. You know that when they say “And just quickly, what about xyz” you have to get your answer out quickly or you’ll be faded to silence under the music. You know you have to pause every so often for them to get a question in. And you know that when they say “thank you Daniel”, they’re moving on, so you just say back something quick like “Thanks Jon” — and don’t try and get something else in.

• Last Thursday’s chat with Faine — MP3, 7Mb, starts at about 18 minutes in. Yeah, he called the PTUA the PTUG. Again. Oh well.

But, as I saw during the question time at the Press Club lunch on Thursday, it’s a bit harder in person. There’s no instant mute, and no tacit agreement between the host and the producer over signals. Faine couldn’t wave his arm down if someone droned on… and I’m not trying to be judgemental here, but I think a couple of people did. Tricky.

Fifteen years ago I wore a Seiko wristwatch. It was given to me by my legendary Uncle Kevin (UK in the UK), about a decade before.

Fifteen years ago I didn’t carry a camera routinely. I had a 35mm Kodak one that my mum had given to me. I It was heavy, had no zoom, but reliable. (I suspect it’s still around somewhere.)

Fifteen years ago I carried a diary. A basic Filofax clone, which I think was another great gift from UK in the UK. It also had phone numbers and addresses in it.

Fifteen years ago I had a payphone card. Provided I knew the number (or had written it down) I could phone anybody when I wanted from any payphone.

Fifteen years ago I didn’t play computer games when away from home. I’d had a couple of Game & Watchs in high school — Donkey Kong Junior and Donkey Kong II — but by the 90s, they were long gone.

Then in 1994 I got a mobile phone. The first was an Ericsson GH198, and at the time hardly anybody had a mobile phone, and you could choose some pretty good phone numbers. Mine ended in the numbers 326435 - or DANIEL. (I’ve changed it since, which memorably caused my departing phone company to send me a bill for three cents.)

And gradually the mobile phone (or to be accurate, subsequent models) took over from the diary, camera and game. Eventually I even stopped carrying a wristwatch.

I can barely remember what life was like before I had a mobile phone.

Until yesterday, when I left it at home accidentally. It’s happened on occasions before. And each time, I feel more naked without it. Some might feel liberated from it for a day. Not me, I felt isolated. Despite having ready access to email and web — including my appointments in Google Calendar — through the day.

Of course, I can ring the number and wait for the voicemail greeting, then press # to check the messages. Though it took about half a dozen goes to remember the PIN, which had me worried that I might really be cut off from the world.

Somehow, I managed to survive a full 10 hours without it. But I won’t leave it behind again, if I can help it.

How does bellybutton fluff work?

Where on earth does it come from?

There seems to be never-ending bits of it coming from my bellybutton. Every time I check there’s another bit.

Can it be harnessed somehow? I wonder if it generates emissions when burnt. If not, it could almost be a limitless source of power.

The week before we moved, the BBC started a new drama, starring William Hartnell. An old man, whose name appeared to be Grandfather or the Doctor, had a police phone box of the kind we saw in the street all the time in those days. It turned out to be a magical and unimaginably wonderful time machine. My brother and I watched this drama in complete amazement. The first ever episode of Doctor Who. I had never been so excited in all my life. A whole week to wait to watch the next instalment. Never have seven days crawled so slowly by, for all that they involved a complicated house move from Buckinghamshire to Norfolk. A week later, in that new house, my brother and I turned on the good old television set in its new sitting room, ready to watch Episode 2. The TV had been damaged in transit and was never to work again. We missed that episode and nothing that has transpired in my life since has ever, or could ever, make up for that terrible, terrible disappointment. There is an empty space inside me that can never be filled. It is amazing neither of us were turned into psychopathic serial killers from that moment.

– Stephen Fry

I hope by now he’s seen that second episode.

For those who are waiting for ABC1 to get its act together and show (new) series 4, they’ve said this year the show will air on Sunday nights. Voyage of the Damned will be on Sunday 29th June at 7:30pm, followed by season 4 starting the following week.

PS. I have a strict comment policy of no spoilers for AU broadcast viewers.