Norfolk is a long way away from anywhere, and if I were you, I shouldn't start from here. By the time you get to the outskirts of Cromer, any distinctions between science, beachcombing, social commentary, writing and animal husbandry have started to blur. When the process is complete, you know you've arrived at the End Of The Pier Show. So, welcome. Find somewhere to park your unicycle. Pull up a girrafe chair. Make yourself comfortable.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Same Pier, Different Blog

The problem with getting to the End of the Pier is that you can't go any further without throwing yourself into the sea.

In fact, I have given strict instructions to Mrs Crox that were I to predecease her, she should strap me into a Bad Mobo Scooter, attach a rocket motor to it, point me at the end of the pier, and let rip. Should, after this maneouvre, I have a hard time sinking, she should get any handy bowmen she finds around the place to pierce my corpse with fiery arrows, or, failing that, notify the Sea Mammal Research Unit.

But I digress. Yes, it's farewell - but not good-bye. For, notwithstanding inasmuch as which, this blog will be moving here, or, for the hard-of-linking:

Please put this link in your favourite reader/blogroll/pipe, and ... er ... smoke it. I shall be there from .... well, now, actually... and will be blogging at that location henceforth, or, if you are reading this later, hencefifth.

But don't worry. The blog will appear very similar, and contain the same blend of serious ruminations, sage cogitations, perpicacious prestidigitations and comedic notices. This blog - the one you're reading - won't be purged, merged, splurged or otherwise deleted. Copies have been moved to the new site, but the original will just sit here, rather, one might imagine, as does the Parthenon - imposing from a distance, but rather shabby close up and missing its marbles. So I'd strongly recommend you switch your attention to

Yes! Yes! Yes! That's

just as soon as your moving digits are able.

I can imagine that you'll have all sorts of questions. Who is this Occam? Wherefore his Typewriter? How Do I Work This? What Becomes Of The Broken-Hearted? and so on and so forth in like fashion. Answers to many of these questions can be found here - Occam's Typewriter is an independent, self-supporting blogging collective, founded by small but nonetheless erumpent band of current and erstwhile scientists, who like to write. Some of us write about science, and the tzores of the scientific life. Others prefer riding off into the sunset accompanied by a unicycling girrafe.

Much as I have enjoyed being on Blogger, doing my own thing just the way I like it, it does get a bit lonely out here, perhaps even rather windswept. Sometimes it's nice to schmooze up with a bunch of fellow bloggers, kinda cosy, like a gang, you know, just us, hangin' with the 'hood [that's enough trying to get down with the kids - Ed].

Well, anyway, as the man said, you might say I'm a palaeontologist dreamer, but I'm not the only one. Perhaps someday you'll join us, and the world will live as one.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

By The Sea - The Interview!

My readers (both of them) will be aware that I've written a gothick schlock horror farrago called By The Sea (the festive gift for all the family, provided their name is Addams).
Well, back in the mists of time I was privileged to have been hosted by Jennifer Rohn's Fiction Lab at the Royal Institution where I could be thrown to the lions discuss the book with readers. After the mauling soirée, Dr Rohn, herself now a successful author of fiction, interviewed me about the book, LabLit, the craft of writing and lots of other stuff, and you can find the interview here. (NB: this clip crashed my Firefox browser, so I opened it in Chrome). The book is still available, and is a self-published effort. If there are any real publishers out there, please do pick it up and do a proper job! Why should the few people who've read and enjoyed the book have all the fun?

Friday, December 3, 2010

It Has Not Escaped Our Notice #135

Mrs Crox's friend Mrs D. S. of Essex posted a picture on Facebook - a joint of ham advertised as perfect for Chanukah. I couldn't get hold of that particular photo, but similar things have happened before. Here's one from this site:
Chag Chanukah Sameach, everyone!

Lunchtime In The Snow

This lunchtime, my coauthor Crox Minima and I took Canis Croxorum and the sledge through the woods and on to the clifftops, near the lighthouse
Canis Croxorum had a great time playing snow-angels
While Crox Minima attempted the notorious black run from the highest point of the cliffs...
This run starts at the point where, in my gothic horror schlockfest By The Sea, (the ideal festive gift for all the family) the creepy Lowdley-Purring Institute stands. The lighthouse is just as it is in the book.
and the view from the top, westwards over Cromer, is terrific.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

On The Internet, No-One Knows You're A Chook

What do you get if you mix social media and chickens? Egg on Facebook? Tweets? Oh Noes! You'll get Musings of a Techno Chook, a new up-to-the-minute tzores sauce source about iGadgetry, social media, volunteering and - well, there's no avoiding it - chickens. And teh kittehs. Mrs Crox, for it is she, swears it's all her own work, but I expect she has help.
Anyway, do take a chook look.

On the Internet, No-One Knows You're A Chicken.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

But You May Call Me 'Pongo'

The great satirist, musician and all-round egghead Tom Lehrer once noted having received a letter which read
Darling, I love you and I cannot live without you. Marry me or I will kill myself.
Disturbed, naturally, by this effusion, Mr Lehrer looked once again at the envelope and found that it was addressed

To Occupant

Turning, however, to my favourite topic (myself) I have this morning been deluged with a letter which, when casually opened by myself on arrival at the office orifice, started thusly

You have been nominated to appear in Great Minds of the 21st Century, a major reference directory including just 1,000 of the world's top thinkers and intellectuals.
I could go one better than Mr Lehrer, however - the letter was actually addressed to me. And, well, false modesty being in my not-so-humble opinion an overrated virtue, I am one of the world's top thinkers and intellectuals. There's no argument about it. What's important is who's doing the nominating.

It was then that I began to get a little suspicious.

The letter came from a body called the American Biographical Institute, Inc., of Raleigh, North Carolina. Naturally, I looked them up in that unbiased source of all knowledge and wisdom founded by Professor Trellis of North Wales The Outlaw Josey Wales, and this is what I found. The casual reader will note that the American Biographical Institute is hardly the Royal Society, the House of Lords or even the production department for Desert Island Discs.

So, much as one would wish for one's genius to be recognized, there is only so far that I'm prepared to push people into its recognition. True genius shouldn't have to work that hard. What do they think I am, a schnorrer? So, in the meantime, I have consigned the invitation to the Circular File.

I am, however, left with an afterthought - who was it who nominated me? Was it done as a kind of jolly jape? Hang on, it might even have been one of you. Now, look, if whoever it was who nominated me for inclusion in this farrago is reading this, please would they do me a favour and nominate me for I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here instead?

It Has Not Escaped Our Notice #22

This misprint muspront kindly sent in by Dr M. C. of Kingston-upon-Thames, who becomes elgible to join the ranks of the GOOFTUG.