On dancing robots, non-refoldable buses and uncooperative telephones.

I produced this work of art a couple of nights ago, depicting mankind's eternal struggle to talk on the phone, take a photo and eat cake all at the same time.

The robot, which will no doubt be the subject of my livejournal entries for the next few months, is still being discussed - namely, what we're supposed to be able to do with it. I think this morning we made some progress with it, though, having decided that it needs a separate head section and wheel section, so that it can be facing one way and moving in another, or spin its head round 360 degrees in a sort of Exorcist way. After having a very useful meeting in the Union yesterday which went on all afternoon, we've got the whole thing drawn up in a spider diagram on the junior honours lab board now. It looks very organised and impressive, with the only obstacle being getting around to doing any of it. The acres of reports and design specifications that we're supposed to produce won't exactly help either.

I got myself updated bus timetables yesterday in case I should ever want to visit the industrial wasteland of Dundee this year (they have rather a good music shop, you see, and I'm also told there's an American DDR machine hidden somewhere in the city). They're several hundred metres longer than last year's, meaning that it takes twenty minutes longer to get to Dundee than before. There's now a Sunday service, though, and it's fairly speedy. On the other hand, the Edinburgh situation hasn't improved at all, with no buses from there to St Andrews after about 6:30 in the evening.

Having examined the 42/96 timetable, though, I can't seem to get it to fold up again no matter what order or direction I make the folds in. "Just fold it up however," I hear you cry (there are good acoustics in my room, you see) but it doesn't work like that - any wrong folds and it won't close properly. I'm sure if I spend all afternoon on it I'll get it closed again some time, but by then it'll be too late to save myself the embarrassment of being outwitted by a piece of paper.