A question of words

Is it good or bad when you need a dictionary to understand a book written in your own language? Does it mean you are extending your vocabulary at the same time as having a good read, that the writer likes to use words that the average person wouldn't understand in an attempt to sound more intelligent, or that you should have paid more attention to teachers who told you that your command of the English language needed some improvement?

Reflections on the week that was

Positives

Fruit picking and learning how to make sloe gin, getting into reading books again, spending time with my family, cutting down on drinking (despite the sloe gin - it takes months before it is ready I promise), cooking, ok starting to think about cooking.


Negatives

Not applying for a job that I really should have gone for, something thankfully forgotten making an unwelcome reappearance, getting lost in a city I've been living in for other 2 years.

And...
Listining to Dire Straits and quite enjoying it (not sure where that fits in the above).

Weird dreams

I'm surrounded by work colleagues (and random friends) as our director of marketing stands before a derelict building with a sledgehammer. I'm told off for talking and am made to carry a golden handbag. The marketing director then knocks one brick from the bottom of the building and the rest collapses. She then asks us one by one what our salaries are.

Black beauty 0 Me 1

It goes to a knock out decision, but there's only one winner in the end.

The end or just the beginning

But as with many things in life only time will tell.

Alternative career options: The confidence builder

Play scrabble against me and you are guaranteed to feel a super intelligent wordsmith... or your money back.

Sunday morning

Morning? What on earth are those...? The sun is shining and people are moving about. Maybe I should do these more often.

A world of intrigue, corruption, high politics and international diplomacy

Who would have thought that international trademark law and intellectual property rights could be so interesting? And its even worse (and ridiculous in equal measure) when you hear about the details. Now, when was I born again.....?

Alternative career options: The removal man

We move boxes, sofas, futons, ironing boards, tables, chairs via car, trolleys, service lifts and stairs. And as I look round at my fellow movers, I see I'm not the only one actually quite enjoying this. Now where are the tea and biscuits....

I think I'm going insane...

...I'm actually enjoying my job. The men in white coats have been called.

Interference

I'm sitting on the train trying to read but my brain seems to have other ideas. Instead I subsume myself into the myriad of conversations going on around me. English, French, languages unknown, words unknown, meanings unknown. Talk of international schools in Switzerland, Romania and worries that the required stop has been missed. All as the green countryside flies pass me in an instant.

Wednesday morning, 11.39am

Tea, biscuits and its not even raining.

Hypocrites of the world unite

Environmentalists who drive to work. Even on care free day.

Politicians who say one thing. But mean the exact opposite.

People who read adbusters. But then hark on about all the cool stuff they 'really need to buy'

People who preach on how to change the world. But then contradict themselves by their everyday actions.

People who talk about rights. But when they only mean for them.

People who stay silent. When they really need to shout.

Me

Silva rerum

The forest of things: "To capture the world, you have to penetrate it as completely as possible"
Ryszard Kapuściński

Total and unrelenting bombardment

Recent research puts the number of adverts and marketing messages that you encounter each day at a mind boggling 5,000. That's approximately one every 17.5 seconds. No wonder that my mind seems permanently fried these days.

The word is out

Bienvenido, Tervetuloa, Välkommen, Welkom, Mirë se vjen, Ongi etorri, Прывiтанне, Добре дошли, Bonvenon, Bienvenue, Sveiki atvykę, Bem-vindo, Croeso, Uwamkelekile

Nothern realities

Superficially its different, but in its own unique way its all the same. And that isn't a bad thing.

A day in motion

4 trains, 1 broken, 3 buses, 1 plane, 3 cities, 1 hotel, 1 home, 1 welcoming friend, 1 cup of tea, 1 pint, 1 paper, 3 languages, many blurs. It seems in fast forward, but is it actually in reverse?

Repeat after me...

Getting drunk is not funny. It is not clever. It is not good for you. Or your liver. But it is helping keep bar owners around the world in business.

So its not all bad then....

Talking Italian

Another day. Another country. But wow, what a place. For the third time in a week, I'm thinking 'I could live here'.....

Estonian anti drink driving campaign

Quite amazing. They actually stop serving alcohol in the gas stations after 2am... well at least until 7 am...

An evening in Tartu

So this is what university should have been. Great food, great wine, great beer and lots of sitting around talking about lots of nonsense....

au naturale

The thought of jumping naked into a cold lake with some work colleagues didn't immediately appeal to me this morning. But I must confess that it was rather good fun.

Normality returns

So its all finally over. I'm a proud virtual father and people seem to like the baby. Now if only my real life was as easy to fix....

A brief glimpse at the career that never was

The call comes late, and I'm immediately told that I will be put through. Then the Spanish voices kick in and I wonder if I should start speaking. Thankfully I hold my breath and quickly realise that I'm in the midst of adverts and someone talking about the last song that was played (by Ray Parker Jnr of Ghostbusters fame). But then the jingles stop and the serious voices begin. So damn fast. I just wish I had carried on learning Spanish... All I can catch are my name and my job and then it starts. And I suddenly find myself live on Colombian radio.....

The relic

It sat there for two years, unloved, unwanted. A relic of a past long gone and a memory almost forgotten. But there it sat. Waiting. Waiting for the moment that my eyes glanced upon it. Knowing that one day its time would come and it would be read again.

Me be a very bad blogger

Well its official. Its over a month since my last post. Have I been facebooked out? Have I lost the will to live or just the will to write? Has my life become so insanely exciting that I dare not describe it for risk of making people jealous. Or so mind numbingly boring that my head is hung so low in shame that I can't even see the keyboard. Have I been abducted by aliens or gone or even gone off an joined the circus?

Now that would be telling.....

Beyond the witching hour

There comes that point during tiredness when you hit a wall. When despite you best intentions your body and mind shut down, leaving no recourse but sleep. But then there are times, infrequent for some, frequent for others, when you go beyond this. When you manage seemingly to conquer the very need for sleep. Tiredness somehow fades away. 11 o'clock, 12 o'clock, 1 o'clock, 2 o'clock 3 o'clock and so it go on. And throughout, you find yourself in a strange netherworld when night is day and day is night. And you, you just watch as the clock ticks away. Knowing that ultimately you are on borrowed time. For whatever happens, sleep will win in the end.

Hmmmm....errrr.....can we talk about the weather?

The writers block continues. But its actually more of a 'do anything remotely creative' block. I can't seem to read a book, enjoy a thoughtful film or even have an intelligent discussion at present. Evolution seems to be in reverse and I'm increasing resembling Cro-Magnon man. Except he probably had something to say. Or perhaps grunt.

Add a photo and help a tiger

I don't normally blog about my work, but I'll make an exception today as I actually feel quite motivated by this one.

Less than 5,000 tigers remain in the wild today, but even this small number is now under threat by the possible resumption in the sale of tiger products. So we are prepared to say good bye to yet another amazing creature all for the sake of some tacky rugs and rather dubious herbal remedies.

So, add you photo and face up to the tiger trade (in more ways than one)

Crime en Geneve

Blimey. Will wonders never cease. I'm in one the safest cities on earth and I've just been robbed. The robber was very kind to return my wallet after he'd stolen my money, and at least he didn't kick my face in, but anyway.....

A brief moment at PJ's

The hairdresser tells me about the state of her new council flat in Lawrence Weston in her thick Bristolian accent and I realise I'm happy to be home.

Loss of appetite

Looking back, I've always had a problem with eating. From as early as I can remember there have been times when I just stop. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days. Often there is no discernible cause, it just happens. And then its all over and I start eating again, at least until the next time. But throughout it all you know you should be eating, but you just can't face it. And I've never understood why.

Indecision at my decision

Ho hum. Why can't my mind be clear on this one? Just a bit even, rather than being as screwed up as spaghetti. I finally made a decision today to stay where I am. Horrah, fantastic, top banana..err, no quite. In fact I'm still as undecided as ever. Sure I got something for it and I'm not complaining. But as soon as I've decided to say no to the other opportunity it becomes more and more appealing. Have I made a wise move based on all the available facts, or have I just chickened away from taking a risk in my life....

An old worn cliche (but that generally means there is a lot of truth to it of course), but only time will tell...

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck

I expect one thing and then the complete opposite happens. And so I'm faced with the hard choice of saying no, to something I actually want. Shit.

Hello, I'm me.

It all passed off quite uneventfully in the end. Sure there was the usual lack of sleep and nerves beforehand, but as soon as I walked through the door it seemed to come quite naturally. The realisation that I can do this, and do it again, until it all comes good. Amen brothers and sisters. Amen.

Attention deficit

Why do one thing, when you can try to do five. Why read one book, when three will do. Why listen to one song when I have thousands at my fingertips. Why slow down when I want to speed up.

Reflections on a funny Thursday

Hmmm... it didn't start very well, but the end was quite pleasant. I go to the office fearing impending redundancy and leave with the knowledge that my job seems quite safe and another one hovers tentatively on the horizon.

Song for the day

We gotta get out of this place by the Animals

Mental note to self.

Qoute of the day

It might not be the "writing on the wall" but someone has some spray cans and is reaching for a dictionary.

Thanks to Mr. B for that one.

And it begins....

One down and its only Monday Wednesday....

Every bad day has a silver lining

I'm fucked. I'm old and getting older by the moment. My back is killing me. I've had to cancel my holiday. And my employer has announced an impending restructuring.

So today didn't start very well to be honest.

But then I then learnt that my parents have finally given up reading the Daily Mail (A newspaper renowned for its impartial coverage of refugees, asylum seekers, homosexuals, Muslims etc. etc.). They have even tried reading the Guardian. What next??? They start to believe in the inevitability of the workers' revolution??

There is hope for us all. Amen.

Hmmmm.....

Good news: Looks like I will still have a job in a few weeks time
Bad news: I have no idea what that job will be...

Tea anyone?

Looking for a hole

Any size will do.

New horizons

Ho hum. Change is in the air once again. And amazingly it is not of my doing. Again. So the magical mystery tour continues unabated. Excitement, trepidation, you name it I've got it. Where next.....

Apt quote

Never believe anything until it is officially denied
Claud Cockburn

Humility..

..begins with the letter H, but then so does hubris.

A story of a poet

When the late Tawfiq Zayyahd, the former mayor of Nazareth, became a member of the Israeli parliament, his Hebrew was not very good. One of the government members shouted, "Where did you study Hebrew?" and he replied, "In your prisons."

A Monday thought

For people who want their straight lines to be straight, life itself is the problem.
Natalia Ilyin

Post no. 225

And just like post no. 1 I'm faced with the inherent problem of what to actually say.

Waiting rooms

The magazines, the table with the chairs arranged around them, the pictures of mountains and people looking healthy, the leaflet rack with advice on everything from pregnancy to weight loss. And the waiting of course.

Words from the toilet wall

I'll be your mirror in case you don't realise the beauty you are.

Hmmmmmm.

Exactly.

Bored, Bored Bored

Oh dear. I've been sitting at my desk for approximately one hour and I'm already beginning to pull my hair out (people who have seen me however will know that I don't actually have much hair to start with). Half my team are stuck in the Netherlands due to the storms we have been having here in Europe, whilst the other half seem to have given up on the whole silly idea of 'coming to work' entirely.

10000000 million green bottles standing on the wall, and if one green bottle was to accidentally fall There'd be 9999999 bottles standing on the wall....

A short reflection on death

I found out this evening that someone I once knew passed away last year. I didn't know them very well, a couple of emails, a dinner at someone's place. That's all. I wouldn't have thought a moment more about them until someone mentioned, in passing over dinner, that they had died. People die every day, and yet I feel nothing, but now I do. Feel. No matter how much we hide it, there is humanity in us all. Thank God.

Just another day in the eternal city

Mad, formula one wannabe, chain smoking taxi drivers moaning about the traffic and the abnormally warm winter. Beautiful buildings popping up around every street corner. The pace and bustle of a big city. More coffee than you can shake a stick at, and I don't even like coffee. A language that I can't understand, but one that I'd really like to.

One day in and I really like this place. And the evening hasn't even started yet.

Amen.

Living the dream

But the question is who does the dream belong to?

The same old story

Too much time. Too little time. Too busy. Too bored. Too happy. Too sad. Too hungry. Too full. Too content. Too restless. Too closed. Too raw. Too self loving. Too self hating.

Yes, the holiday season is over and melancholy has returned. Maybe its the grey skies, maybe its the lack of sleep, maybe its that time of the month, maybe its just me.

Lost

Speaking English. On an Italian Train. In Switzerland.

There is a message somewhere here.

02:48

What am i doing. Here. At this hour. With a gin and tonic. Typing. Slightly pissed.

Why am I not. In bed. Fast asleep. With a good book. A water bottle.

02:51 f**k knows.

Things I learnt over the holiday season

- That Ross-on-Wye and Hay-on-Wye are two different places. Although I am still convinced that Ross is more than capable of holding a world renowned literary festival. Despite its seeming lack of bookshops. Probably.

- That knitting is bloody hard. I mean Jesus. Whilst I am very happy with my seven rows of a square, it might take a while to knock out a jumper at this rate. Knitters of the world I salute you.

- That my scrabble game needs work.

- That Bath ales are actually brewed in Bristol. OK so that probably doesn't sound earth shattering, but it surprised me. Or at least it did after my fifth pint of the stuff. Yum.

- That my brother loves me. And that I love him.

- That I know some bloody amazing people around the world. Bristol, London, Berlin, Helsinki, Geneva et al. Wow. We're all on our own journeys, and are travelling at our own speeds, but I know we'll all meet at the other end.

The small and subtle changes

Sit clarior, sit dignior

Every time I return here I see them. A new building where there was once another, a shop or business closed and replaced by something new. Sometimes you see them straight away, whilst others slowly dawn on you. 'Didn't that used to be...?' you ask yourself. Changes small and not so small that show that time moves on.

quotquot labuntur menses

It was once my home, but each time I r eturn the place feels less and less familiar. The city itself is pretty much the same of course, and full of contradictions as it always was. Big but small, cosmopolitan yet provincial, beautiful yet ugly. Home but not home.

Sit primus nobis hic decor

But friends have moved on and I'm now just another visitor, here for a few days before I head on to the next destination. But as the memories of here will always will be with me, so will the city itself. As it was and as it is.

Sumus Bristolienses.

Programming Christmas

10 EAT
20 DRINK
30 SLEEP
40 GOTO 10

A city of tribes

The live amongst one another, but do they ever actually meet?

You know you are having a bad day when...

..you open the fridge and discover that those nice cold beers you bought are actually non alcohlic.

Recovery

All change please. Out with one life and in with another. The clock is now ticking....

The end is nigh!

The closing moments before the credits roll. The final seconds ticking away before the lights come up and the analysis and discussion begins. Life moves on as always, but am I waiting for a freeze frame?

Wash it all away

The misconceptions. The falsehoods. The memories that have become too faded, jaded, over time.

In a cold wet evening the rain beats down welcoming me home.

Retreat into a virtual world

I made a new friend today. He might be a he but maybe he is a she. To him I'm probably a he but maybe he sees me as a she. Anyway I digress. My new friend and I...We talked, we teleported, we wondered around the titanic as he told me about his weapons collection. We drank some lemonade, then some Guinness and after all that we flew into the sky and found a big green dragon.

The word surreal just doesn't do it justice.

No news is good news

Nothing. Nowt. Nada. Nichts.

Maybe something will happen at some point, but I'm not really complaining.

Into another world

A different currency (but of course readily convertible into US dollars). Ken style lack of certain body parts come as standard (although extras can be bought apparently). And some truly bizarre fashion (I'm currently the kind of person, who if you saw on the tube, you would immediately stand up and get off at the next station).

All rather odd if I was to be truthful. And I can't quite see the point of the whole thing. But learn I must, and all in the name of work. So when I'm next asked at a party what I actually do I can reply with a straight face 'I play games all day'.

My childhood dreams are now fulfilled.

Thought for the day

Led Zeppelin, a bottle of red wine, the joys of the internet and the realisation that I can have a lie in tomorrow. Good Good.

Pay day

Money in. Money out. That's just the way the world works.

Framing memories

The exact layout of Henleaze Infants school. I remember. The windows in the class rooms that seemingly stretched from the floor to the sky. I remember them as well. The walk home past the houses that I can vividly picture even as I write this. Even the colours. Then nothing. And then memories appear again. The desks at another school with their now redundant inkwells. The sound of my feet as I paced the long stone laden hallways. The green grass that tantalizing appeared through windows that has long been replaced by concrete nothingness. Faces, places and names, but really nothing more.

I remember nothing, but at the same time I remember everything.

Peace.

Light the night

Winter draws in and the dark skies with it. But in the place of sun and light I'm entranced by the myriad of colours that surround me. Natural and neon reflecting into one, creating unique combinations at each turn on my journey home. Yellow on red, red on blue, changing at every moment as the clear white moon watches over.

Death and life

Sad news yesterday of a distant relative and then today of seven colleagues I never had the chance to know. And I don't quite know exactly how I should feel.

But then you see how these people touched the lives of others, people who loved them and people who never even knew them. Such beautiful words and thoughts. Emails and messages from people from around the world who just care, about the people, their families and their work. And in such a moment of sadness for so many people, I can't not but feel hope.

And then I think back to the hazy memories of my relative. Uncle Harold, although he wasn't really my uncle. The small house he shared with his late brother. He stories of the war, the fact that he was always happy to see my brother and... and whilst writing this I realise he wasn't that distant at all.

Peace.

Two days and a hell of a lot of le français

The state of anti-semitism in Europe. The pros and cons of big city vs. country living. Cool bands, wine making and the joys of relationships (or lack of). In French. Maybe I'm getting somewhere after all.

My worst ever gift

I'm in the most romantic city on earth and I bring back a pasta recipe book (in French). Sigh.

Facial hair

You either love it or hate it. Ok, you probably hate it. Especially if you talking about your gran. But anyways I digress. Why is it that it just keeps growing, even when hair that is actually useful (i.e. on your head) seems to be falling out. Not that my hair is falling out, heavens forbid. No sir. I've just decided a toupee is rather stylish for a gentlemen of my age.

Anyway some old fool has decided to raise money by trying to grow a moustache. Progress has yet to be visually documented but I wish him well, even though he once stole my Guinness.

And so my mere freak of chance I am drawn into a world of mystery and intrigue that I never knew existed. The previously unknown world of beards.

Stuck between here and there

Which way next. So much time spent, but so little seemingly achieved. Moments fly by with no recollection of what passed before. And an unwelcome five letter words clings to my mind.

The thing I hate most about Switzerland

Now you might think this is obvious. The impression that the place is rather boring. What about the obsessive rules. Maybe it is the lack of decent pubs or the fact that nothing is open on Sundays. Or perhaps Orson Welles best summed it up in the Third man when he said "in Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love - they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock".

But no. The place isn't boring (ok a little quiet perhaps). Yes, there are lots of rules, but lots of people don't follow them. It is actually possible to find a nice pint and maybe one day a week without obsessive shopping isn't such a bad thing. And what is wrong with the cuckoo clock?

No, the thing I hate most are…the traffic lights. I just can't deal with them. Really. Red lights but the man stays red. And everyone just waits. And waits. And waits some more. The cars wait. The motorcycles wait. The pedestrians wait. Even the cyclists wait for heaven’s sake. We all just stand or sit waiting for something, anything, to happen. And the worst thing is that I wait as well. No more London style rushing across dual carriageways-like-roads without a care in the world. No sir. I stand. And I wait for that magic little green man to appear. The adopted Londoner within me shouts and screams to break free, but its no use. He’s been beaten. By the bloody cuckoo clock.

The man

He stands alone in the car park, shuffling to the left and then to the right. Who is he?
He looks furtively around with hands firmly held in pockets. What is he doing?
Something grabs his attention. He stops. Who is he waiting for?
His curiosity temporarily placated he starts his shuffle once again. Who is he?
Is he me?

Missing

The faded and hard to decipher postmark says 6.20pm on 25 July, but the envelope only reaches me today, when it catches my glance sitting on top of the gleaming silver post boxes. What was once missing is now found. But the question remains of where it been on its travels.

Nothing to report

Nothing stupid or cryptic, or stupidly cryptic or even cryptically stupid. No strange dreams, no odd encounters, no hangovers, no pearls of wisdom.

Lazy Sunday

A beautiful sunny down and I'm surrounded by lakes and mountains. So many options. Yet I've moved a grand total of about 10m so far today, and I can't see that increasing much.

Surreal dream fragment

I don't normally remember my dreams and after last night I can probably see why that is a good thing. The only part I remember is this...I'm standing in a queue at US immigration and am handed a form to fill in. It has all the usual stuff, name, address etc. But at the top it asked when did Murder She Wrote begin. Now, I'm not totally clear why US immigration needed to asses my knowledge of the popular 80's murder mystery show starring Angela Lansbury, but it sure as hell had me perplexed when I woke up this morning.

And the answer is 1984. In case you ever get asked.

Virtual work therapy

I have that horrible sinking feeling. Not about myself, mind you. No, that feeling when you know something you are working on is destined to become a complete load of crap. A complete stinker. Really, really bad. Imagine bad, then think worse. So bad that you want to shout at the top of your voice "this is complete bollocks". But being the nice quiet lad that I am, I keep it inside and write it down here instead....I'M WORKING ON A COMPLETE LOAD OF BOLLOCKS! Now breathe.....

Feel better already.

Quick fire global commentary

The world sucks. Its official. Or so I'm told. More bombs. More robberies. More general shit permeating through our daily lives. More bullshit. More cynicism. More gloom. More doom. More money. More poverty. A lot more. More environmental meltdowns. More 'I don't give a toss about you' attitudes. And its only Monday.

The moment that never was

And never will be. At least not in this lifetime. So instead all I have are dreams that are never to be realised. But despite it all I'm still smiling.

Spring clean

It isn't spring and it isn't clean. But I hope you get my drift. Next step is to start writing things that make more sense, but that might be a step too far at this stage.

Strange days

I'm listening to the Cure, but I can't help feel upbeat. Not sure why. The weather sucks and it feels like Autumn already. But despite that the future looks bright, not orange, but just bright. And so another week begins.

Peering in through tinted glass

Change is afoot. Lots of change it seems. Where once I was in the midst, now I'm just another bystander, a member of that mass we casually call the general public. I briefly wonder what would I feel if I was still there. But the moment passes. Life moves on and there's no point looking back.

No comment

Exactly that.

Flash back

The little boys lies in bed grasping the covers around him. No I don't want to go to school. He repeats, again and again. His parents are surprisingly calm and gently try and coax him out. It will be fun, you will make lots of new friends. But the little boy seems quite resistant to their arguments.

Flash forward 30 years and the now not so little boy seems to be having the same feelings.

Tingles in me toes

I started rather late at this. Very late if I'm truthful. It passed my teenage years and just kept on going. So much so that I never thought it would stop. Or rather, I never thought it would start. But here I am. Sad, but smiling. Like the teenager standing at side of a school disco who has finally decided to let go of that wall. Amen.

Out of time

Unfortunately, unlike in the Stones song, time wasn't on my side. And so it ends again. To be filed in the drawer of those I'll never know what might have happened moments. But I still can't help but wonder......

Cryptology

What on earth does it mean? How can three paragraphs confuse me in this way? If I click reply what do I say? Only one way to find out.....

Bed, Bed, Bed

If I keep saying it maybe I will gather the strength to go to sleep.

A short reflection on Sweden

And off we golly well go
Originally uploaded by Random in Geneva.

Very flat. Lots of trees. Lots of green. Quite a few lakes. Lots of flags. Road signs painted with the national colours. And houses. A distinct lake of IKEA furniture. Quite a lot of blonde hair. But less than Denmark. Apparently. Very laid back. No sign of the Swedish chef. Pity. Nice beer. Full of stupid English tourists. Who can't navigate. The reality that Swedish meatballs taste much nicer when eaten outside a summer cottage. In the sunshine. Overlooking a lake. Much better than the IKEA restaurant. Nice people. Nice place. A nice weekend. Reflection ends.

The oddities of air travel

As the plane heads towards Munich I wait nervously for news of my connection. Will I sleep in my own bed or does another faceless hotel room await me. As we land several passengers rush to the door, all eager to get home tonight. I await my turn and put my future in the attendant's hands. Will it be thumbs up, yes you can go home, or thumbs down, a sentence with no chance of parole. A smile, yes, you are ok. In fact the very same plane will be taking you home. Relief. Part of me wants to ask why they couldn't have told me this before, but I resist the urge.

So then I disembark the plane, go down some stairs, get on a bus, drive to the terminal, go up some stairs, walk to the gate, go back down some stairs, get on another bus, head back to the same plane, walk up the same stairs and say hello again to the same attendant I saw only a few minutes ago. All to move 3 rows.