Claire Tayler, or just Claire. Works as a social media writery type at VCCP. Blogs a mix of digital media, adventures, colourful food stuffs, and the odd dodgy craft project.
“One balloon and a couple of evenings after work — Dyson engineers show how inducement and entrainment works on the Air Multiplierâ„¢ fan.”
This video is fun and whilst it shouts “Hello. I am a hip and minimal video-that-wants-to-be-a-viral” it’s lovely. Engineers are doing engineering things in an entertaining and non-techy way. “We could line up fans!” we think. “I was great at dominoes when I was younger.” Suddenly the world’s inner-child suddenly wants to be a fan engineer when it grows up.
“Inducement and entrainment of the air” says Dyson. “Wheeee” I say.
I come from a village in Berkshire – a strange sort of mix of tracksuit bottoms, woods, and dog-walkers – in which our house lives in the bottom of an A road, with a speed limits that over the years been doggedly dragged down from de-restricted, to 50, and now to 40 mph. I live at the bottom of the hill before it broadens out to a flat strip, and when occasional pairs of ‘boy racers’ speed down the hill with their engines shrieking, pushing to overtake each other.
It’s not unusual, but when a neighbour awkwardly pulled the 90 degree turn into their driveway, it was peculiar to lean back, halfway through a bit of teenage HTML coding, to glance out of the window and see two cars impacting into each other and a wall, in a shattering bang that smacked the neighbourhood quiet as the third car went sailing past.
Part of me will forever be the accident rubber-necker. Mostly though as I dialed 999, I felt like a surreal prankster. Accidents on TV will forever be different to real life. I asked for police and ambulance, and tottered out almost too shy to ask if anyone was actually hurt. I think I peered into the wreckage and mumbled “Probably” to the nicest sounding lady on the phone.
It’s not uncommon, and when I moved to London over the summer there was something reassuring about cycling. It’s strange because the cycle lanes seem more reassuring – they were completely absent from the roads I cycled to school down, and Brighton implements them in a lax sort of way in which there’s a white line but with very little red coloured in. Having said that, I’ve never been nearly hit by so many times by idiotic drivers blindly swinging their doors into the roar, and weaved around so many buses, but it was always the cars with the engines that were shut off that terrified me most. And it’s always at the slowest speeds that I’ve come anywhere near an accident in my own car.
In London cars on the road seemed more aware – “it’s a metropolis, everyone active is engaged, busy and aware” the country kid in me explained. Somehow everyone on the move is on some sort of zen level (which is inexplicable given people’s ability to navigate around each other on say, Oxford Street) whilst stationary people are the most terrifying (If you watch the video below, this is a perfect example of ‘the things you look for’).
“You’re mad to cycle in London,” said a friend with an aversion to cycling in general.
“But it’s not scary,” I told her.
“And you don’t even wear a helmet?”
“Admittedly stupid,” said I, citing curly hair and vanity as an aversion, and the niceness of not needing to take a million locks, pumps, hats, and shiny belts on a journey out.
This all very loosely leads to the new TFL advert that’s been put out. What a horrible, cliche, unavoidable ending, I thought, as every TFL motorbike, car or cyclist advert must be. But ooh, I thought, what a delightfully true notion – and it reminded me of The Stoned Driving advert which seems to be on the other end of the stick, and focusing on our reactions to things we’re avoiding; ashamedly, the big issue man for one. Stare straight ahead.
“I really like how it pretends to be directed at women, but really it’s directed at men because it’s too silly. It’s not serious enough,” says Jamie. Perhaps related to the fact he wears old spice, perhaps not.
I like his resemblance to Peep Show’s Johnson and his cockish stupidity, although this is far less excruciating. It’s a brilliant change from a pouting chick rolling around in taffeta or David Beckham in his pants.
I must try and write more about myself I suppose, I’m quite bad at blogging in that respect. It’s all very well posting the latest ad video but it all gets a bit similar after a while (although write about ones here I think are amazing and give opinion). There’s far too many people doing that and I live in fear of doing it without noticing. It seems almost like some sort of delicious feed to just show people that you’re aware of the latest thing.
Anyway, I am perfectly capable of talking about myself although most things tend to turn into some sort of post for Bitchbuzz (links to which you can find down the right column). I’ve been reading Belle de Jour’s blog for a while (because I am in fact a girl and like chicflicks and such nonsense) and she’s got a great ability to talk humanly. Something which I lack, or possibly try not to do because it’s all too reminiscent of being fourteen and blogging. And I’m quite terrified that my inner fourteen-year-old voice will pop up.
That said, here’s the making-of video by BBH. Just because I like it.
I couldn’t help but hold my breath along with the director when they’re trying to dribble mercury just so.