notes: January 2007

Lego iPhone

Wednesday, January 31, 2007
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Current reading

Labels: books

Monday, January 29, 2007
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On the writing process

Sometimes it’s possible to sit down and start typing the beginning of an article, and just keep going until you reach the end, having discovered a satisfying middle about half-way through.

But not always.

This morning I sat down to write something fairly short (about 400 words) on a topic I know well. A few days previously, I’d written almost 200 words about it in outline form, for the benefit of the editor who was commissioning me to write it, so you’d think that conjuring up the rest wouldn’t be a problem.

It was, though. I tried the first approach - write from the beginning and see what comes out. Something reasonable emerged, but I was being far too wordy and faffy. I reached 380 words in no time at all and hadn’t covered half the subject. I needed to start again.

So I returned to the outline I’d submitted and actually used it. The freshly-produced copy was decent in places, so I could paste it down into the second, outline-inspired draft. Things were soon looking much more promising.

I write this post not in some misguided hope that anyone will learn anything from it, but more as a note-to-self. Sometimes I’m guilty of charging blindly into work without stopping to think first about what it really needs. Rather like mending dead household applicances, writing a decent article often benefits from having a cup of tea and a bit of a think beforehand.

Labels: work, writing

Friday, January 26, 2007
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Riding the Iron Rooster, by Paul Theroux

Paul Theroux is your old-fashioned sort of travel writer. Not only does he travel by train - the way real travel writers get around - but he makes a point of finding ordinary people and asking them direct questions. Someone doing this in the UK would be considered incredibly rude, but in China no-one seems to mind. They like his directness, they respond to it with direct answers. In a crowded society like theirs, values of rudeness are very different.

At almost 500 pages, this book is long and did start to drag a bit in the middle. Theroux makes a point of describing every train, and every fellow traveller, in extraordinary detail. There are things that occur often on the different journeys - people spitting in public, awful food being served (which Theroux just gets on with and eats), astounding scenery to describe. After a few of these encounters, the stories get a little repetitive.

But there’s some repetition to treasure. Theroux remarks that the Chinese often laugh, but the way they laugh means something specific. Every laugh he gets is translated into English, often hilariously:

His face became very thin with a chattering laugh that meant: “You have just asked me a tactless question but nevertheless I shall answer it.”

And there’s a lot to learn. China, being so huge, has remarkable climate variations. I didn’t know there were parts of the country that suffered such remarkable low temperatures. Theroux endures endless weeks of cold trains, cold hotels with no hot running water, cold meals served up in cold restaurant cars. He’s cold more than he’s warm.

The repetition is broken in the final chapter, in which Theroux travels to Lhasa, the capital of Chinese-occupied Tibet, in a car - because at the time there was no rail line that went there (that’s all changed now). His nervous driver, Mr Fu, causes the car to crash spectacularly in the snowy Tibetan plains, miles from anything or anyone. Theroux’s description of the crash and its aftermath, followed by his adventures in Lhasa, make for a fascinating and very different end to the book.

Labels: books

Friday, January 26, 2007
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Brain dumpings

I’m getting bored with the template for this site. I want to keep it broadly looking like it does (one column, minimalist, horizontal elements rather than vertical ones) but perhaps with a little more … you know … p’ching. Then again, maybe I won’t bother. The built-in Blogger templates make my eyes water, I can’t use those. I dunno. What do you think?
Having got a very exciting commission for an article, it appears that all of the world’s knowledgeable experts on the subject in question are either on holiday, permanently in meetings, or just painfully busy. The article would have been written hours ago, if I only I could talk to someone. Tooth-crunchingly frustrating.
The new mattress we had delivered today smells odd. I wonder if this is its way of flolloping. I’ve left the bedroom window open to air it a bit. I’m hoping it might say “Voon”.

Labels: life, rant, work

Wednesday, January 24, 2007
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In the recording studio with the Cocteau Twins

ROBIN: Right, I think we’ve easily got an album’s worth there.

SIMON: (Shrugs)

ROBIN: We should do some final mixes. Which one first?

ELIZABETH: Fotzepolitic, I think.

ROBIN:

SIMON:

ELIZABETH: You know, it goes “See-en soo-bon sme bachtooyoo” in the chorus.

ROBIN: Ah, right. That one. Me and Simon call it “Jangle 3”.

ELIZABETH (Annoyed): Fine. That’s one track. What else?

SIMON: I -

ROBIN: How about that floaty hippy one?

SIMON:

ELIZABETH:

ROBIN: You know, it’s all sort of dreamy. Bit slow. Jangly.

SIMON: Is it -

ELIZABETH: Is it Oomingmak?

ROBIN:

SIMON:

ELIZABETH: You know, off Victorialand?

ROBIN: Nah, not that floaty.

ELIZABETH: From The Flagstones?

ROBIN:

SIMON:

ELIZABETH: Come on, From The bloody Flagstones? It goes “Sumtymes eye seeeioo ahhn tho flaaahagstohnes”. Bloody obvious, that one.

ROBIN: No, not that one. It’s the one where the chorus bit goes “Ooh la la”.

SIMON:

ELIZABETH:

ROBIN: You know. “Ooh la la”.

ELIZABETH:

SIMON:

ELIZABETH: Oh, hang on - you mean Calfskin Smack?

ROBIN: Dunno. Do I?

ELIZABETH: It goes “Ooooooooooh lalalalala, ooooooooooooh lalalalala”

ROBIN (Beaming): Yeah that’s it.

ELIZABETH: OK, so we’ll do that second. Shall we plan a third one while we’re at it?

SIMON: Well -

ROBIN: Yeah why not.

ELIZABETH: Any suggestions?

ROBIN: What do you think, Simon? Jangly 12? Jangly-Poppy 4?

SIMON: Jang -

ROBIN: I quite like the idea of doing Jangly Atmospheric 8 myself.

ELIZABETH:

ROBIN: It’s the one where the drums come in towards the end.

ELIZABETH:

ROBIN: You sing it, Si.

SIMON: It goes -

ELIZABETH: Oh wait, is it Blue Bell Knoll?

ROBIN (Shrugging): Not sure.

ELIZABETH: The one that starts with some jangly sounds, and me going: “Issss ish nacch no-long no-lorrrr, for-borrrr, ah-laah naowt, ah-laahsu-uuung nah boloh bo”.

ROBIN: Wavey sounds in the background? Drums at the end?

ELIZABETH: Yeah.

ROBIN: That’s Blue Bell Knoll?

ELIZABETH: Yeah.

ROBIN: Cool.

SIMON: (Goes to pub)

Labels: music, writing

Tuesday, January 23, 2007
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Things I learned from the woman standing behind me in the queue for the car park ticket machine

That Viv’s man had been unfaithful
That Viv was thinking about having him back again
That she considered this “Bloody crazy,” and
“The last thing she should do.”
Also that the fella concerned was “a twat,” and
A “slimy bastard”
That Viv had recently been shopping for new shoes
Which were quite nice actually

(Written in respectful homage to Meg, who overhears more interesting conversations and writes more entertaining things about them.)

Labels: life

Tuesday, January 23, 2007
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Positivity flippy floppity

Feeling positive about all sorts of things today. I’ve had an enjoyable, ego-boosting week full of compliments and kind words from friends and strangers.

Work is looking good too, with a commission from a national newspaper and some other interesting potential projects looming; I’d better not say what they are because none of them are fully confirmed yet.

Also my web site has gained some unexpected attention; my son has delighted me every time we have a conversation; I’ve managed to keep up fairly regular exercise, despite the weather; and I’m enjoying my weekly singing more than ever. Today, life feels good.

Labels: life, work

Friday, January 19, 2007
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Excitement and adventure by the Kennet and Avon Canal

Despite the horrific weather, with fences toppling all around and the force of the wind pushing rainwater through the seal around Barney’s bedroom window (true - it was raining inside his room at 7 o’clock this morning), I thought I’d go for a run this morning.

Partly because the tow path is nice and flat, and partly cos I fancied a change, I went running by the canal. The wind pushed me along for the first 10 minutes, at which point I turned, panting with the effort, and headed back towards town again.

As I turned a corner, I saw one of the narrowboats had broken its moorings and drifted across the canal at a 45 degree angle, one end touching each bank. It completely blocked the canal. In summertime, when there’s a lot of tourist traffic on the canal, this would cause problems, but today the only problem was for the boat’s owners.

They were an elderly couple and as I ran closer, I could see them hauling pathetically on a piece of rope that they’d attached to the boat’s mid-section. I stopped, offered to help, and reached out an arm to grab the rope.

That was when I noticed the bloke was dripping. He was soaked from head to toe.

Turned out that moments before I’d come running around the corner, he’d been trying to pull on the rope by himself, and a gust of wind had pushed the boat further from the bank, consequently dragging him into the water. Yikes.

So bloke, bloke’s wife and I pulled like animals on the rope. God, it hurt. Canal boats, I can report, are incredibly heavy. We were pulling the boat into the wind, and for every metre we pulled it closer, a fresh gust of wind pushed it half a metre away again.

Finally, gasping at the effort, we pulled it alongside the bank. The bloke climbed aboard to find a metal pin he could hammer into the bank - something to tie the rope to. Bloke’s wife and I chatted.

“Keeps you fit, this boating life,” she wiffled. I’d have made better conversation had I not been grunting and moaning, trying desperately to hold the boat in position while the bloke hunted for his pin. A particularly strong gust tugged on the hull, which moved inches, dragging me across the path. I yelled out: “Hurry up mate!” and crouched down as low as I could.

My arms felt like they’d explode from my shoulders. My legs were twitching. My hands had gone numb from gripping the wet rope. Finally, the bloke re-emerged with his pin and a mallet, and swore while he frantically bashed it into the ground. From nowhere, a dog appeared and jumped up at me, helpfully putting its muddy paws on my running trousers.

At last the rope got tied to the pin, and I could let go. My muscles collapsed en masse and I just stood, breathing heavily. I am by no means very fit, let alone very strong, and I could tell straight away that I was going to suffer after-effects of this little episode.

The couple thanked me with big smiles, and I walked slowly away through the rain and the drizzle.

Only at this point did it occur to me that perhaps the bloke could have solved the problem by climbing aboard the boat and starting the engine.

Labels: life

Thursday, January 18, 2007
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Make a Tiny Link

Following on from the previous post on Make A Shorter Link and its future, there is news to report.

Shortly after we announced that MASL was closed for new links, Kevin Gilbertson of TinyURL got in touch with a proposal: he’d be happy to take on the MASL database, do all the work of intertwingling it with his code, and maintain the existing MASL links for as long as they need to be maintained.

This was just the sort of offer we needed, really. We always said from the beginning that we’d try to pass on the DB to an appropriate person if and when this time came. Kevin was as about as appropriate a person as we could have asked for, and he has been generous with his time and his encouraging comments. He said that if he’d known about MASL at the time, he’d have never started building TinyURL, which makes the transfer of our service to him even more apt.

So that’s that, then. Gilby (as he’s known) has taken control of MASL’s insides, and we’re in the process of handing over the domains to him. Make A Shorter Link is now part of TinyURL; if you want to make some nice shorter links, perhaps even some tiny URLs, you know where to make them.

It feels a little bit like Barney’s first day at school. Off you go little MASL; have a great time! Be good!

Labels: tech

Wednesday, January 17, 2007
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My victory over the washing machine

The day before Christmas Eve, Kate noticed a strange smell coming from the washing machine. I went to take a look, noticed the smell, and some smoke too. The washing machine appeared to be cooking our clothes rather than washing them.

Of course our first instinct was to call out an engineer, but the last chap we called out three or so years ago said something to me which made me stop and think this time round.

He said: “Washing machines aren’t complicated. Once you poke your nose around inside, you can see that a lot of the stuff is pretty easy to take apart. You could have fixed this yourself, if you’d known what to do.”

So he showed me what to do.

Three years later, his words came back to me and I decided that I would at least try to fix the machine myself.

First step was to grab a torch (it’s dark inside the washing machine) and have a good look inside. I suspected the motor, and I was right. Dark smoky stains were visible on the armature, the central column that spins inside the motor and drives the belt that turns the drum around.

My first thought was that perhaps the brushes inside the motor needed replacing. That was when I went online, and to my delight found some instructive videos on YouTube showing me exactly how to remove the motor, and offering tips on brush replacement. So far, so good.

By this time, though, it was already Christmas Eve and no-one was going to sell me a new brush, or a new motor, for at least two weeks. That’s why we ended up visiting relatives over the festive holiday with a suitcase or two full of dirty washing. Barney’s various grandparents did a super job of keeping him in clean underwear for the duration.

When all the useful shops re-opened, I headed to one in a quiet alley in Trowbridge. At the end of it was a small shop. It was like something out of the 1970s, complete with a man in blue overalls behind a counter. He was terribly helpful, and could tell from a single glance that I was not the kind of person with lots of experience inside a washing machine. He gave me more useful advice on the fitting of brushes, so I went home and fitted them.

Turned back on again, the machine’s motor made ominous clicking noises. As it started a spin, sparks began to zap around inside it. Clearly the brushes, while worn and due for replacement anyway, had not been the cause of this problem.

I called the helpful man in Trowbridge again. “Bring the motor here then,” he said, “We can fit a new armature in it for you.” Which he did, for just a tenner’s worth of labour charge (the armature itself cost 40 squids).

The most rewarding part of the whole adventure was the re-assembly. Having dismantled and re-mantled the motor’s fixings several times, putting everything back together with a shiny new armature fitted inside the motor was amazingly easy. It really did take just a few minutes. I called Barney and Kate to admire the Grand Switching On, and stood back feeling pleased with myself.

This Further Adventure in the Realm of Real Man-dom was brought to you by a cup of tea and a large adjustable spanner.

Labels: life

Wednesday, January 17, 2007
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The harsh virtual reality of home decorating

I spent much of this morning decorating, and because decorating is the most boring thing in the world, I entertained myself by trying to come up with some ideas for a science fiction story. Needless to say (though I’m going to say it anyway) this is the kind of idle thought that has drifted around my head for years now.

So far, no entertaining plot ideas have emerged, despite this being the third house I’ve co-owned and therefore been forced to decorate. Anyway.

I started out with this thought: “No galactic civilisations. No warp drives. No super zappy stuff. Let’s think realistically.” So I emulsioned the walls and imagined a future human history that remains stuck unhelpfully in the Solar System. Even 10,000 years from now. Which is a loooong time, plenty of time for people (the concept of person, even) to change, but pretty much nothing in celestial history terms. I ummed in my head about AI and Ganymede and half a dozen other ideas that Arthur C Clarke probably thought of half a century or more ago, then found I’d finished the painting and stopped for fried egg sandwich.

Then, this evening, Warren Ellis happened to mention something called “Mundane SF” and I sat up straight in front of my computer. He didn’t mean … surely not - someone had already written stuff like this? Gah! Of course they have. There’s a whole bloody genre full of it.

Now all the time I was hoping to spend writing my Mundane science fiction story will be taken up reading the backlog of stuff that’s gone before. At this rate, I shall have to decorate the living room and the downstairs loo before I have any chance of coming up with an original idea.

Labels: rant, writing

Tuesday, January 16, 2007
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Floodwaters

This was a few days ago; the water level has gone down a bit now.

Labels: photos

Tuesday, January 16, 2007
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I want backspace in my pen

Today I had to do some editing of several lengthy documents. The only sane way to do work like this is to print it out, sit in a comfortable chair with good natural light and a hot cup of tea, and crack on.

But the downside was the need for me to make notes in the document margins. I found myself struggling to write anything that other people would be able to make sense of, because my handwriting has grown steadily more terrible as my use of computers has increased.

When writing with a pen nowadays, I’ve become very lazy about spelling and grammar, far more so than I would be if I was typing the same text. It’s because I’m so used to having the chance to backspace and correct my errors as I go along - consequently, I don’t worry too much about the errors in the first place. I expect them to happen, my brain allows me to make them, smugly assuming that it can save itself from public embarrassment during the final edit.

My handwriting isn’t just a mess; it’s a chore. I am appalled at the thought of it. The simple solution would be to practice regularly by writing proper old-fashioned letters to friends, instead of flinging half-hearted texts and emails their way every once in a while. But the first solution that popped into my head was: “I want a backspace in my pen.”

Labels: life, rant, tech, work

Wednesday, January 10, 2007
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Weblogging in local government

As part of some work I was doing recently, I had a chance to talk to a local councillor who has a weblog. The purpose of the conversation was to evaluate what she thought of the blogging software she was using, but uncovered several other fascinating snippets relating to the culture of weblogging within local government.

First was that the councillor’s decision to use a weblog was not at all supported by her fellow party members. They were wary, if not distrustful, of what she might expose on the blog without a certain amount of censorship by party officials.

“Having a blog makes me look like a maverick, rather than a part of the group,” she said.

“My own side see it as a problem. They have to trust me a great deal, not to say something I shouldn’t.”

She didn’t say so in as many words, but it was clear that she felt that not all of her political group did trust her. They even insisted on monitoring the blog during election time.

She’s started the blog to communicate with the local residents she represents, but over time found that the people who read it most were:

the local press (who treated it as a source of stories)
the opposition parties (who looked for gossip, and were sometimes the object of it)
trainee or would-be councillors

The work is ongoing; we’re trying to understand how e-democracy can work better. One important starting point is that “e-democracy” doesn’t actually mean anything; right now, it’s used as a label for everything on the web that’s vaguely connected to politics.

The blogging councillor I spoke to continues to post. She’s prolific by any blogging standards, and much more so than almost all other councillors.

Labels: tech, work

Wednesday, January 03, 2007
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Seriously Farmy Cheddar

Coming soon: Seriously Dead Beef.

Labels: photos

Wednesday, January 03, 2007
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