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The hideously named Barclays Cycle Hire scheme – also known as borisbikes, kencycles, bankerbikes and so on – has been running for a few weeks now, and after a slow start I've finally had time to try it a few times. So is it any good? Well sort of. Ish. Maybe. From the perspective of a pedestrian who'd like to cycle far more than he does – no room for a bike at home – here's how it works out at the moment.

Wheely good

There's a lot to like about the scheme. First of all, it's good that we finally have a cycle hire scheme in London – god knows it's taken long enough, and other cities in Europe have had one up and running for ages. Secondly, there are lots of bikes. Loads of them. Also, plenty of stands – as long as you're within the covered area, you shouldn't be too far from one or two docking stations.

The key system for members, which allows you to release a bike in about ten seconds, is convenient, and the pricing system – although ridiculously complicated – isn't ridiculously costly. The scheme provides an API that allows developers to create handy apps showing where docks are located, and how many slots are free: Cycle Hire Widget, for Android, is brilliant.

And when the scheme works, it's great: on Wednesday I had to get across town to a press conference in 15 minutes – not long enough to walk it. A month ago I would have jumped on the tube, but this time I got on a bike, scooted over there and docked it just around the corner. Perfect.

Crap cycling

But then there are the problems. Putting aside the hideous Barclays sponsorship – you're riding around on a billboard for a bank that operated in South Africa under apartheid, loans money to Robert Mugabe and invests in arms manufacturers – there are quite a few issues that need ironing out.

First, the bikes. I've ridden, so far, just one bike that worked properly. Every other one has had problems: one had dodgy brakes, but the most common issue is knackered, slipping gears. The bikes have three gears – reasonable, low, and so stupidly low you could probably cycle up K2 – and many have a tendency to slip out of the higher gear, so you can be cycling along when your foot will suddenly fly down without resistance as the bike drops into lor or crazy-low. This makes the bike wobble – eek – and there's often no way to shift back up without braking hard first. The bikes are currently almost new, and only accessible to members – I dread to think how they'll be in six months.

Next, the docks. These have a three-light system that's simple but unhelpful: fine when you get the green light, but no help when they randomly reject the bikes. Surely an LCD display wouldn't have cost too much to add – or even just a few labelled error lights? The pricing has the opposite problem: it's pointlessly overcomplicated, with two charges applicable to every journey. And it doesn't work with Oyster.

Then there's the distribution problem. If I could pick up a bike from near Charing Cross and cycle to work every day, that'd be great – but of course other people have the same idea. Bikes move in droves, leaving some docking stations almost permanently full, so often this journey is sometimes impossible. Serco does try to move bikes around by van, but what's needed – as people have suggested online – is an incentive for people to move the bikes themselves: cheap, free or paid journeys if you move the bike in an unpopular direction could help.

Finally, the computer system behind the scheme is clearly very flaky. Having made one perfect journey on Wednesday, I picked up a bike for the return trip, cycled back across town and docked it. Randomly, though, the dock rejected the bike. I tried again, and it locked in place. According to the Serco systems, this journey never took place – it's not listed, shown on their computers or billed. It appears that you can, if you're (un)lucky, move bikes around without the computer's knowledge. Other people have reported the opposite issue: their accounts show journeys they've never made. I've spoken to at least one keen cyclist whose account was hit by several phantom journeys and eventually suspended. That's one customer gone.

Fix the wheels?

I'm still hopeful that the system can be made to work. The bikes could – should – be fixed, and hopefully they can upgrade the gear system to something less prone to uselessness. A change to the pricing could help keep the distribution of bikes more even as well as simplifying the costs (ditch the access fees for casual users and it's instantly easier to understand). Oh, and Serco should be able to fix the sodding billing computer. As for Barclays, they've signed up for five years. Hopefully when the time comes to renew the deal we'll have a Mayor of London who's more inclined to find alternative funding. As it stands, will I fork out for the annual membership? No, but I'll hang onto the key for occasional use.

Photo by Sweens308, used under Creative Commons license.

For the past year or so I've been using a heart rate monitor watch – a Polar F4 – when running. Despite a few really stupid flaws – most notably, it has no light, making it impossible to read if you run early or late in winter – this served me perfectly. After knackering my right IT band, though, I've found myself having to slowly build back up my distances from almost nothing – at its worst I could only just run 5k before my knee was in agony – so I decided to upgrade to a GPS watch that can accurately track pace and distance as well as time while I get back up to speed.

After having considered at least five different models and reading dozens of (sometimes useless) reviews, I chose a Garmin Forerunner 405CX*. Here's what I've found since buying it that I wish I'd known beforehand.

One caveat: I don't think it's possible to properly review a device such as this without having used it for a few months, and preferably through winter. When buying a GPS watch there were several questions that I wanted the answers to, however, so I think it's worth putting that information online now for anyone else in the same situation. I'll update this a few months down the line.

What you get

It isn't entirely clear what you get in the box with the 405CX before you buy, particularly as some Forerunner watches are sold with and without heart rate monitors. So, here it is: the standard 405CX package I bought includes the watch on a rubber strap, a heart rate chest strap, a small USB antenna for PC transfers, two velcro straps, a strap changing tool, a charger (it's USB, with a USB mains adapter) and a quick start guide. The heart rate sensor is much the same size as the Polar T31, but has a battery that can be changed without the use of a stanley knife. The chest strap seems to be a little larger than a medium-sized Polar one.

What you don't get

A manual, and god knows you'll need one because the quick start guide covers just that: the start. Download the full manual in PDF here. Also, there are no instructions on how to change the strap – see the video here, but beware that it's a far fiddlier process than the presenters make out. There's no software CD, either – instead this must be downloaded from here.

Why so many wriststraps?

The 405CX looks more like a watch than some older Garmin models, but this is accomplished by building the GPS receiver into the top of the lower strap. It's a clever design, as the receiver always points up when you run, but it makes the watch huge. If you have small wrists, like me, then the standard strap is uncomfortable, so switching to the velcro one is a must. Apparently these straps are not included with the cheaper 405 (non -CX) model. Here's the watch on the small strap on my puny wrist – GPS receiver side facing the camera.

Using the watch

The 405CX has two buttons: one to start and stop, and one to lap. All other controls are on the "touch bezel" – the silver ring around the bezel that works rater like an iPod controller. Tapping and holding one of the four quadrants opens that function, scrolling a finger around adjusts values and single-tapping selects. It takes a few minutes to get the hang of, but works well. The bezel can be locked by pushing both physical buttons at once – I've heard that this is a must if running in the rain, but it's no problem to lock every time.

GPS reception is impressive. It takes about a minute to position at the start of a run – go out, stretch, and it'll be ready – and kept its grip on the satellites even in parts of my run that are under some fairly heavy tree cover.

The options available are numerous. At its simplest, you can run until you want to stop and the watch will track your time, pace, distance and heart rate. It's simple to combine this with the Virtual Partner – set this to run at, say, 4:30 per km and it'll track your progress against that standard through each kilometer. When running on streets rather than a track it's handy to switch on the auto lap function that adds a lap marker every kilometer, mile or whatever – the watch beeps at each marker, and displays your pace through the previous lap.

More usefully for me, you can set the device to monitor you through a fixed run – for 45 minutes, say, or 10km – and alert you when it's done. There are also modes for heart rate zone training and intervals (run, rest, run, rest, and so on). The Advanced workout option allows for even more complicated settings, but cannot be set up on the watch itself – these must be set on the PC and transferred.

By default the watch will show two screens of information when running: one for your heart rate, and another showing the pace and so on. Enabling the virtual partner adds a third. You switch between them by tapping the bezel when running, which isn't as easy as pressing the physical buttons on my Polar, but there's also an option to automatically cycle them at various speeds. It's possible to completely customise what's shown, too: there are three main screens available, each holding three variables, plus the heart rate screen, so you could have up to twelve figures on display should you wish. I've set it up with just one screen for time, distance and pace, and disabled the heart rate screen entirely (it's still logged).

The watch is charged using a clip-on adapter, which is simple enough to use. At the moment it seems to lose approximately 10% of its charge per half-hour of running, so I'd bank on charging it once per week.

Oh, and it has a light. Thank god.

Viewing the data

After running you need to hold the reset button for two seconds to end the session and commit it to memory. Garmin offers two ways to track your runs: Garmin Training Center, which is PC-based, and Garmin Connect, which is online. I've only used Garmin Connect.

Synchronising the watch with the website is simple enough: plug in the USB stick and place the watch nearby and the two will detect and transfer the last run. Once transferred it'll appear on Garmin Connect when you next log in. Here's a snap of the main run screen (map obfuscated to hide my home address):

As you can see it plots a Google Map (with surprising accuracy – you can see which side of a narrow road you ran on, for instance), with pace, elevation and heart rate graphs below. Lap times and paces are shown to the left, along with lots of average data. Click Player and you get this screen:

.. which allows you to replay the run, or check out where you were when any strange peaks or troughs appear on the charts (hint: waiting to cross roads). It can only graph two variables at a time, though, so you can't have pace versus elevation versus heart rate here. A report option allows you to tally data for a period (the last month, say), and you can set goals. These aren't very sophisticated, so you're limited to "run two hours this week" rather than "get back to 15km per run within two months".

Verdict

As I said earlier, time will tell. For the moment, though, the 405CX does everything I wanted it to, and a whole lot more that may or may not be useful in future, and the Garmin Connect website is particularly nifty. I'll update this review in the depths of winter once I know how it copes with the cold and pouring rain. If you fancy buying one, please click here* – it's £250 from Amazon, or about £300-350 elsewhere.

Update: Rain

One concern I had was whether the 405CX – and the bezel in particular – would cope with rain, as I'd read reports of it causing accidentally activating in the wet. Tonight I took it out for a run in some truly awful British weather, though – rain, wind, yuck – and it was fine. I left the bezel unlocked while it got a fix, with no problems, then locked it during the run. I got soaked, so did the watch, but it kept working with no problems.

* These are affiliate links, so if you click one I'll get a small kickback to waste on comic books. The price you pay is the same, and Amazon is the cheapest place to buy (I shopped around quite a bit).

Watching anime films in the UK is, by and large, a waiting game. If you speak little or no Japanese there's the wait for films to be subtitled (or, if you're unlucky, dubbed) and even once that's completed any possible UK release tends to lag behind the US, which in turn lags behind Japan. Sometimes the only solution is to import region 3 DVDs at ludicrous cost. So when  you get a chance to see a major anime film ahead of its Japanese release, you jump at it.

And so yesterday we caught the second screening in the world – the first was at the Berlin International Film Festival – of 宇宙ショーへようこそ, or "Welcome to the Space Show". It's a family film from the makers of Read or Die, which was a rather strange but quite fun OVA and TV series about a world in which the British Library is a kind of secret intelligence service (yes, really, the British Library), employing "papermasters" with supernatural powers.

The plot follows five children who are left in the charge of the eldest at a summer school. They head off into the woods to find the school's pet rabbit, Pyon Kichi, who had escaped from the care of one of the elder girls, Natsuki. Pyon Kichi is nowhere to be seen, but they do find an injured dog lying in a field marked with a giant crop circle. The children tend to the dog's wounds and, in turn, the dog – who turns out to be an alien called Pochi (a name rather too close to Poochie for Simpsons fans) -  takes them on a school trip. Into space.

There's nothing too remarkable in the plot – the kids have to overcome some obstacles and foil some bad guys in order to return home – but the two hour section of the film set in space is wonderfully drawn, with a huge cast of colourful aliens, from dogs to eyeballs to a walking goldfish bowl, and some really stunning scenes. It's visually diverse and just plain bonkers enough to keep you enthralled, and some of the animation is wonderful.

It's funny, too, with laughs that'll work for even small kids (often courtesy of the rather grumpy Pochi, who doesn't appreciate being referred to as a dog ("犬　じゃない!") or, for that matter, having his backside examined by curious children) and some neat sight gags – look out for the famous baby robot in the background of the alien creche, kicking his little, er, legs.

All in all it's a colourful spectacle of a film for kids, but also enjoyable for adults who'll appreciate the sheer technicoloured exuberance of it all. Subtitles might be a bit of a stretch for its potential audience in the UK, and it is quite long (2h20 or so), but if given the chance of a dubbed release here, albeit probably in a year or two, I'd hope it could do well as an alternative to generic-family-film-crap served in 3D.

Also, many thanks to the British Film Institute, which showed Welcome to the Space Show as part of a weekend of anime, including the UK Premiere of Evangelion 2.0 and a load of other stuff. We also caught Hosoda's Summer Wars on the big screen, which was just as fantastic as I'd hoped after reading this review a while back. And remember what I said about waiting? Sadly Manga Distribution has today announced that its UK release – on DVD and Blu-ray – will now be pushed to 2011.

Before heading over to Tokyo last year I'd say I was moderately interested in Japanese animation and mildly obsessed with the films of Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli. Since returning, I've been hoovering up other anime films and television series, attempting to find the gems amongst all the truly godawful rubbish. In particular, I've found myself looking for anime set in a realistic present day setting, whether it's ostensibly a work of comedy (Satoshi Kon's Tokyo Godfathers), science fiction (Hosada's The Girl who Leapt through Time) or, in this case, romance.

I stumbled across 5 Centimeters Per Second on the web at the end of 2009, and it sounded interesting – a film in three distinct parts from Makoto Shinkai, who famously created the sci-fi short Voices of a Distant Star single-handedly on his computer. Getting a copy wasn't easy – details later – but a month or two later I finally got to watch it. As there are relatively few reviews available, I thought I'd put one online. I'll avoid spoilers as far as is possible.

The plot

The sequence of films follows two characters, Takaki and Akari. The first film, Cherry Blossom Story, is set as Takaki makes the (complicated, lengthy) train journey north from Tokyo to see Akari; as he does so a sequence of flashbacks explain how they met and became friends in elementary school before Akari's family moved out of the city. Since her departure a year previously the two have corresponded by post, but with his own family now moving far afield the two have one final – at least for the conceivable future – chance to meet.

The second segment, Cosmonaut, is set  years after Takaki's move to the island of Tanegashima – home of the Japanese space agency, NASDA. This section is narrated largely by Kanae, a female classmate of Takaki who has suffered unrequited love for him since his arrival, and who goes out of her way to arrange 'chance' meetings. The two, soon to graduate from high school, discuss their plans for the future, but Takake is somewhat distant and is constantly seen writing emails on his mobile phone. At several points we see Takaki and Akari together, but these appear to be dream sequences.

The final segment, 5 Centimeters Per Second, is set back in Tokyo. Takaki, now 26, is a computer programmer, and significantly depressed. One day, while walking across a level crossing, he spots Akari. The finale, which makes up the majority of this segment, takes the form of a montage of rapidly cut visuals shown as a song is played.

The look

It's worth noting immediately that 5 Centimeters Per Second looks beautiful. The animation slides between a slightly painted style and the more realistic look that you'd expect from computer animation but throughout the shots, and in particular the use of colour, are remarkable – many of the scenes are set in twilight or night, with an amazing luminous appearance and glowing pink washes that link the narrative back to the cherry blossom tree of the title.

The effect is a world that's immediate and real – Takaki's journey through and out of Tokyo is almost photo-realistic – and yet somewhat otherworldly, and in the second film this is taken even further as the setting introduces another glorious light source to both dream sequences and the segment's climax.

Swirling cherry blossoms are something of a specialism of Japanese animation – there's probably a firm somewhere in Tokyo that specialises in computer-rendering them – but here the blossom and snow swirl and dance beautifully as the camera moves through them, while light sources flare and glint off the surroundings. Even the rapid shots of the final segment, each on screen only momentarily, are beautifully put together.

The effect

Of course pretty animation is all for nothing in a drama if the viewer doesn't feel emotionally involved. Here, though, the Japanese voice cast does a wonderful job of conveying real-sounding emotion without recourse to the squeaky, shouty clichés that plague many teenage anime characters, and the plot is paced cleverly enough to suck the viewer in enough to build a sense of unease from that most mundane occurrance: a delayed train. Although ultimately a simple tale of young love it left me with enough emotion invested as to care what happened to both parties at the end, which is surely a success on the writer's part. And it's always a good sign when you watch a film through to the credits, then immediately pick up the remote control to flick back into the story again. Overall it's a simple but elegantly crafted tale that avoids saccharine sweetness in favour of the affectingly recognisable, and I'd recommend it to anyone.

Where to get it

Picking up a copy of this film (legally) is a pain. There's a Blu-ray, but you'll need to import it from Japan, play it on a Japanese or American Blu-ray player and, not least of the obstacles, understand the Japanese-only audio. A DVD with English subtitles was available in the US, but it's Region 1, out of print and currently selling for $150 or so. In the end I imported a Region 3 DVD from Hong Kong via Ebay – this has the Japanese audio track and English subtitles.

Early warning: expect some mild spoilers here.

Earlier this year Helen and I paid a visit – or perhaps a pilgrimage - to the Ghibli Museum in Mitaka, Tokyo. One of the main exhibits was filled with information about a film I hadn't at that point seen: Gake no ue no Ponyo. The exhibit was fascinating, with a special focus on the design and animation of the numerous wave and sea scenes in the film, and I made a note to search out a copy on my return to England. On getting back, however, we found out that for reasons unclear it won't be released here until sometime next year.

Last night, however, I finally got to see it. Ponyo, which seems to have picked up the rather unwieldly English title "Ponyo on the cliff by the sea", was being presented in Japanese as part of the Barbican's Japanimation season with an introduction by Helen McCarthy, and six of us managed to pick up tickets. Actually, on the subject of the title, if anyone with a better grasp of Japanese than I knows where the sea comes from, I'd love to know – it looks like "cliff (no) above (no) Ponyo", or "Ponyo on the cliff", to me.

The story is pretty simple: a young boy, Sosuke, meets a goldfish, Ponyo, and they fall in love. Obstacles are presented and – it's a children's film, so this shouldn't count as a huge spoiler – overcome. As with many of Hayao Miyazaki's films, though, this takes place in an environment where everyday Japan meets the supernatural, and with a subtle theme of environmental concern (the drag nets, the idea of nature being pulled out of whack, the moon, etc).

It's colourful, beautiful and beguiling, with a gorgeous look that mixes realism (the dry dock of the working port, the retirement home where Sosuke's mother works) with childlike drawings (the house on the hill, the simple boats bobbing out to see). And of course the waves – at times magically  transformed into giant fish and in one scene racing the camera as it tracks horizontally – are magnificently animated and almost worth the price of a ticket alone.

The film is funny, too – Ponyo's first encounter with a sheet of glass and her enquiries as to the profession of Sosuke's father, in particular, drew big laughs from the (almost entirely adult) audience, while the slightly crazed driving of Sosuke's mother Lisa raised gasps and smiles. The problems faced by Sosuke, Lisa and Ponyo don't ever seem *that* dangerous or frightening, and the conclusion isn't as uplifting as, say, the girls from Tonari no Totoro travelling by Catbus to check on their mother – but they build up and wrap up the plot neatly.

So, predictably, I'd entirely recommend Ponyo when she eventually swims up to these shores sometime in mid 2010. The English version is being distributed by Disney, is produced by John Lasseter and has a cast packed with well known actors – so I'm sure it will at least get a big release, and I suppose subtitles don't make too much sense for an audience of small children. See it in English, then rent the DVD or Blu-ray for the film as it was intended.