I really don’t want to forget this in the morning, so forgive me.

  psmove_get_magnetometer_vector(move, &qx, &qy, &qz);


  printf("orientation: %5f %5f %5f \n", qx, qy, qz);

  heading = atan2(qx, qz);
  heading -= 0.157;

  if(heading < 0)
      heading += 2*3.14;

  if(heading > 2*3.14)
    heading -= 2*3.14;

  printf("heading: %5f\n", heading * 180/3.14); 

Yes, I know that’s a horrible approximation. I’ll include math.h tomorrow. And then fire those figures into Redis. Turns out that my entire problem all along is that you have to worry about magnetic declination in America, whereas in the good old land of tea and plenty, you can ignore it. THIS IS GOOD NEWS, PEOPLE.

I wandered around Durham today, after spending the traditional five hours making chocolates and cleaning the kitchen. Firstly, it was 21˚C. That’s not right by any measure. I want snow! Or at least a good frost here and there. Of course, saying that, I see that back home, you’re all going to freeze, so you have little sympathy for me. Sorry about that. Anyway, I was walking, then sitting and reading. Then walking, and then walking again when it turned out that I should eat something. The not walking part of that really wasn’t much longer than the comma in the preceding sentence.

Anyway, after being complimented on my accent at a new-ish food truck (hello Big City Sandwiches!), I was struck that some of my British obsessions are rather interconnected - Lindsay Anderson, it turns out, ran thick and loose with members of the Independent Group and those that would eventually be known as the Brutalists. And the Independent Group’s apex was the This Is Tomorrow exhibition at the ICA, which of course was appropriated by Saint Etienne many decades later.

This justifies all the architecture and film books in my bookshelves, obviously. As well as those ones on playground design and typography. And car parks. And shopping malls. And my ever-growing Penguin/Pelican collection.

I may be trying to justify myself at this point.

Though I do say that anybody who turns their nose up at my pretty-much complete collection of B.S. Johnson novels (yes, including Travelling People) has problems of their own. And every household needs four different complete collections of The Invisibles, right?

Abebooks will tell me when a copy of The New Brutalism drops below $100. AND THEN YOU WILL ALL KNOW MY POWER.

Or something like that. Secretly ironic for those of you who followed obscure BBC comedy programmes that inexplicably went out live on a Sunday morning.