The feminine side of Ben

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… is hidden on my official homepage, apparently, at least according to Gender Analyzer. This site takes a URL entered by you, the user, and (a) applies sophisticated semantic analytical techniques to work out the likely gender of the author or (b) takes a lucky guess with remarkable consistency.

For the record:

  • my homepage – 80% likely to be a woman. To rub it in Google Ads kindly offer an ad for “Understanding Men”
  • this blog – 62% likely male. Obviously because I belch and scratch myself as I type, or possibly because I talk about subjects other than myself … Google Ad: “Beautiful Chinese ladies seek men for love and marriage. Join free!”
  • work (out of interest) – they guess man (51%), “however it’s quite gender neutral”. Which is as it should be so my manager was pleased. Google Ad: “Inside A Boyfriend’s Mind – 10 Free Secrets On Men & Commitment To Keep Relationships & Love Alive”

I then tried it on the sites of various friends and it guessed them all correctly, except one, the most feminist of them all who comes across as 65% man. Snigger.

Is thermoregulation different for teenagers?

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Put it this way. You’re sitting having your breakfast in the living room of a clear December morning and you feel a little cold. You’re wearing just a t-shirt on top. Do you put on:

  • a) another layer?
  • b) a scarf?

If you just answered (b) then experience suggests you may be a teenager. Or at least a teenager with half-Swedish blood.

So that’s Thanksgiving

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Mashed potatoes with turkey? I know, shocking.

We have an American vicar, for reasons I’ve never quite gathered. (I know why we have a vicar, because we’re that kind of church, and I know why he’s American because you don’t really get a choice in that when your parents are American and you’re born in Pittsburgh. I’ve just not yet quite understood how he ended up here, but I’m very glad he did because he’s a great guy.)

Last night we commemorated the fact with an American-style Thanksgiving dinner: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn bread, peas and sweetcorn. All ingredients genuinely American, acquired somehow from a US airforce base. And the menu …

The vicar explained beforehand that American palates are not quite the same as British ones. They don’t draw the same distinctions between sweet and savoury. And how! The corn bread is essentially dry Victoria sponge. It could have served with the sweet potato casserole as our dessert – except of course that dessert was pumpkin pie and pecan pie. (I was surprised to hear how many people present had never had pumpkin pie – I’ve had it often thanks to my mother’s cooking at home. Never had pecan pie, though.) I think the Americans must have invented cranberry sauce in a desperate attempt to drag it at least a little over to the savoury side of the taste spectrum.

But I quibble. This was my first Thanksgiving dinner and very nice it was too. It certainly whetted my appetite for the real thing in 25 days time …