notes

Picking fights with software

2009-09-18T09:48:00.001-07:00

My latest for The Morning News is an arrogant prod at Apple's Genius technology, as built into iTunes and iPods and probably soon embedded inside the file system of OS X itself. All the mixes it makes for me are depressingly predictable, and I think human beings can do a lot better.

And here 'tis: OK Genius.

The Eighth Doctor on iPlayer

2009-09-17T14:55:00.001-07:00

There's a bunch of Doctor Who radio stories being repeated on BBC7 at the moment, all of them featuring the Eighth Doctor. I've not heard any of these before and they're quite fun because (a) they sound more like "old" style Who, with mentions of Time Lords who're still around etc, and (b) it makes a change for the boy to listen to these and not the Famous Five stories he's been addicted to for the past couple of years.

Claire Boobbyer, travel writer and photographer

2009-09-15T11:03:00.001-07:00

Like a lot of students, I spent two and half years pissing about and then knuckled down for the final six months to do some proper work. During those final months I remember visiting my friend Claire Boobbyer in the house she shared in southern Cambridge. We sat in her room drinking tea and I admired her Amstrad. She'd bought it second hand so she could churn out some articles.

Claire was a woman with a plan. She wanted to go into journalism and was already doing something about, practicing her writing and sending articles off to publishers of newspapers and magazines.

The conversation turned, as conversations did in those days, to what we were all going to do post-college. I said I didn't have a clue. And Claire said: "Why don't you try journalism? You'd be good at that."

So there you are, folks. It's all her fault. It was Claire's suggestion that got me thinking about journalism as a career, that resulted in my applying for a post-graduate journalism course, that got me my first job, that got me my second job, that sent me into freelancing, that got me here today.

Claire's career started in a similar way but went off in different directions. She became a writer and editor of travel guide books. She's done several now, mainly in South East Asia and Central America, particularly Cuba.

What Claire doesn't know about Cuba isn't worth knowing. If I'm ever lucky enough to be planning a trip there, Claire will be the first person I consult for advice.

Mouse for lunch

2009-09-14T15:08:00.001-07:00

We're in the garden, and our neighbour's cat arrives to say hello.

B calls me: "Dad! Jeeves has caught a rat!"

It's not a rat, it's a mouse. Already dead, but knowing Jeeves, it didn't die slowly. He enjoys playing with his prey. He'll catch a rodent and allow it to escape once or twice, but every time catch up with it easily, and whack it with his paw. Just before he kills, the prey usually stays still for a while. Alive, but either too terrified, or too injured, to move.

We step closer, and Jeeves moves round, as if trying to show us what he's caught. See how clever I am? he says.

Then he bends his head down, picks up the little mouse corpse, and delicately bites its head off.

I glance at Barney, thinking that he might be upset. But he's quite calm.

"Well, that's the head gone," he remarks. Indeed.

Jeeves eats the head, making horrific crunching noises as the skull is pulverised by his strong jaws. Crrunch, crrunch, crrunch. Gone. Another bite removes the front half of the torso, including the front legs. He drops the rear half of the mouse on the patio. A tiny teaspoon of blood spatters the gravel.

Next, Jeeves very carefully licks the open end of the mouse's body. It's not clear what he's doing here, but he is very experienced at this; he knows exactly how to proceed. After the licks, he starts on the rear half. He doesn't use his paws at all, just his mouth. He's not chewing, he's dissecting. He turns the rear end of the corpse around, and eats from the tail end. Down it goes, the rear legs follow.

And what's left, very deliberately and very clearly, is the intestines, and one or two other organs. A liver, perhaps; I'm not sure. They glisten on the stones. Jeeves walks away from them and proudly curls himself around my ankles. Barney watches him, while I look at the still-warm mouse innards he has left behind, and wonder what I'm going to do with them.

Jeeves wanders off, nonchalant and full up. See? See how clever I am? he purrs.

Well, you would, wouldn't you?

How to avoid running out of space on Gmail

2009-09-14T03:03:00.001-07:00

Danny Sullivan found himself in a rare predicament: he ran out of space on his Gmail account, and had to jump through all sorts of hoops to delete old, useless messages and free some space up.

As Danny points out, this rather goes against the Google promise that you never need to delete an email ever again.

Indeed, Google makes a point of encouraging people not to delete. Although there's a delete button in the Gmail interface now, there wasn't for a long time. Google much prefers it if you archive, rather than delete.

But I delete all the time. I delete a lot of stuff, and I always have done, because I don't want to get into the same position that Danny found himself in.

My simple rule is this: I don't keep anything that's archived elsewhere.

So, all mailing list traffic gets binned. Each list has an archive on the web, so I can search that for old messages if necessary. Similarly, notifications from web services all get binned. Once I'm notified, there's no need for me to keep them. News alerts, new Twitter followers, calendar reminders, Facebook updates, Flickr comments, all of that - it all gets trashed.

The only stuff I keep is stuff that I actually need to: messages that were sent to me, and contain things that are not going to be archived anywhere else.

Current reading - Bending Heaven, by Jessica Kane

2009-09-05T02:15:00.000-07:00

Dodgy hoodie boy

2009-09-01T14:18:00.001-07:00

It keeps me warm as my office gets the Autumn evening chills.

Nursery rhyme insurance claims

2009-08-31T14:22:00.001-07:00

Magic Fairy Land Insurance Ltd,
Pudding Lane
Round-the-hill-and-back-again
There There
Ye Olde Englande

FAO: Little Boy Who Lives Down the Lane

Sir,

We received your recent claim regarding two full missing bags of wool, and attached sheet outlining the circumstances of the loss thereof.

Following our own independent investigations and a lengthy interview with your contractor, Baa Baa Black Sheep, we find that while the precise nature of your agreement is unclear, Mr Sheep did not fail to keep his side of any bargain. Since there exists no paper contract and instead, merely the "gentleman's agreement" you mention in your claim, we find no evidence that Mr Sheep deliberately deprived you of wool. Indeed, it would seem that his contracts with other customers, particularly the Master and the Dame, were fulfilled to their entire satisfaction. The Dame, in particular, has supplied us with a most positive reference with regard to Mr Sheep's ongoing business relationship with her.

We therefore find your claim invalid, and regret that we shall not be paying for the cost of two replacement full bags of wool, plus expenses and the amount for damages you specified.

We trust that this decision meets with your approval. If you have any further questions, please do not hesitate to call our customer service helpline.

Sincerely,

MFL Insurance Ltd

***

Magic Fairy Land Insurance Ltd,
Pudding Lane
Round-the-hill-and-back-again
There There
Ye Olde Englande

FAO: Boy who looks after the sheep

Sir,

We received your claim for loss of earnings and have devoted considerable thought to it. We regret, however, that we cannot meet your request and that your claim falls outside the terms laid out in your insurance premium document (copy attached).

You state in your claim that you were, and we quote, "under a haycock, fast asleep" when your colleague and would-be assistant, Little Boy Blue, set about blowing his horn. The sheep was not, as you claimed, settled down in front of the Aga - instead it was in the meadow, a fact confirmed by a number of independent witnesses. Neither was the cow enjoying a relaxing sauna, as you claimed - it was seen by Blue and others in the corn.

Since your duties as boy-who-looks-after-the-sheep were specifically to keep the sheep from entering the meadow area, there is a clear case of dereliction of duty, and we find no merit to your claim in any form whatsoever. What's more, while your job title made no mention of looking-after-the-cow, we consider such a duty implicit, and therefore find your professional misconduct all the more alarming.

We therefore respectfully decline your claim and suggest that, in future, you take your professional responsibilities more seriously. Or failing that, find an alternative supplier of insurance policies.

Sincerely,

MFL Insurance Ltd

***

Magic Fairy Land Insurance Ltd,
Pudding Lane
Round-the-hill-and-back-again
There There
Ye Olde Englande

FAO: Mrs Grundy (wife of Mr Solomon Grundy, deceased)

Madam,

Permit us to begin our letter with an expression of our most sincere condolences following the tragic and early death of your husband. Although brief, his life touched many and the news of his demise caused much grief and upset here at the offices of Magic Fairy Insurance. He was a great man who achieved much in a very short time, and for his achievements he will always be remembered.

Now let us turn to your life insurance claim, which we received shortly after the news of Mr Grundy's passing.

You married Mr Grundy on Wednesday, as soon as was possible given his fast-paced life. We note that your life insurance policy began on that same day.

We also note that it is a matter of public record that Mr Grundy was taken ill the very next day, Thursday. The two of you did not even enjoy a honeymoon.

Furthermore, he was worse the following day. There is no record of any attempt to consult a doctor, and you did not mention any medical history or the name of any professionals in that field. Already, we regret to point out, your actions (or lack of them) fall foul of several of the terms and conditions laid out in our life insurance policy documents (copies attached).

Mr Grundy's condition must have worsened very rapidly indeed, and he died on the Saturday. While we have no doubt that this was a traumatic event for you and the rest of the Grundy family, we note with some concern that no time was allowed for any sort of post-mortem, and that Mr Grundy was buried (with what some might say was indecent haste) the following day.

Your claim letter was written the day after that.

Mrs Grundy, we do not doubt your devotion to your husband, and we mourn his passing as much as the rest of the community. But we consider his life insurance policy null and void, and your related claim likewise. While your haste to file the claim might be an attempt to honour your late husband's tendency to act swiftly and get things done with the minimum of delay, we find that his passing, and your actions, do not fall within the strict terms of our policy.

For that reason, and with the greatest respect, we must decline your claim for a life insurance payout.

Sincerely,

MFL Insurance Ltd

Current reading

2009-08-31T00:19:00.000-07:00

and your eyes see something, and you have to stop and capture it, because if you don't

2009-08-30T14:44:00.001-07:00

Suffolk backroads; quiet, traffic-free, single-track, slow. We're rumbling back to the house after getting rained on at the beach, and we top a small hill, and WHAM - this view is in front of us, and my camera-eyes are twitching because I can see the light bouncing gently over the fields, and I know it's Magic Hour. Luckily Kate knows too, she senses my need to stop, and doesn't complain as I pull the car over in a passing-place. I crouch beside the hedge, then stand in the middle of the road. I look over the top of the camera, and admire what I see. I have no doubt that I'll not be able to capture the full beauty of what's in front of me, so I drink it in while I've got the chance.

Then back in the car, engage first gear, and roll down the other side of the hill and into the village. Here, the sunset is hidden behind the rooftops of the pub and the old post office. It's getting dark already. Autumnal.

Throwing

2009-08-22T15:03:00.001-07:00

We borrowed a dog for an hour or so, and Barney practiced his throwing technique. The dog appreciated it.

Current Reading

2009-08-18T01:05:00.000-07:00

Edd Dumbill and Mike Butcher - separated at birth?

2009-08-16T11:59:00.000-07:00

Gums

2009-08-15T15:30:00.001-07:00

I'm not alone in having a certain amount of fear of dentists. I am unusual in that I don't really have any reasonable excuse for it.

As a kid, I had pretty good experiences with dentists. I went to a small primary school in the rougher end of town, and the dentist was just a couple of minutes walk down the road. My mother would collect me from school and we'd go to see the dentist for my check-up, which would usually be fine. On the way out, I would demand sweets as a reward.

I was a good boy in most respects so I did as I was told and brushed my teeth. I kept them clean and mostly, didn't worry.

There were just two instances where things went wrong.

The first was when the dentist announced that I needed a filling. This was a huge surprise, but we went ahead and got the filling and that, aged about 9 or 10, was that.

The second came in my teens. Cycling home from drama club in the pouring rain, my glasses so covered in water droplets that I couldn't see a thing. I went SMASH into the back of a parked car.

The following things happened:

my bike wheel was bent at 90 degrees
the front forks were also bent backwards
my knuckles were cut
my face smashed into the metal of the car boot
my glasses popped off my face and shattered on the ground
and my upper-left second-from-front tooth went pop out of its resting place in my gum, never to be seen again.

I picked myself up from the road and stood miserably surveying the damage. Glasses, bike, and teeth: all the most expensive things I owned at the time. My tongue gingerly touched the gap where my tooth had been and jumped away quickly as it sparked pain there. I peered closer at the parked car. There was a huge dent in it. Ooops.

Partly because I felt a bit shaky and in need of a sit down, partly because I wanted to phone my mum and this was in the Dark Ages before mobile phones, and partly because I have always tried to be an honest chap and do the Right Thing, I looked around me and saw that the damaged car was parked outside a house. A big house.

Leaving the wreck of my bike on the pavement, I walked up the front path and rang the doorbell. A woman answered, opening the door wide at first but then narrowing it somewhat. She looked terrified. "Yes?" she said.

"Hello," I began. "I think I might have jutht damaged your car. I thycled into the back of it and there'th a big dent in it now."

A man appeared over the woman's shoulders. He gave me a funny look.

"Not our car," he said. "Nothing to do with us."

With that, he closed the door and I was left standing in the rain once more.

It was only as I walked back towards the mess of my bike that I realised I looked like a lunatic - my hair plastered to my skull by the rain, blood pouring from my mouth, ugly great cuts on the knuckles of both hands. That might explain the funny looks.

So then. What to do next? I remembered a friend lived only five minutes walk further down the road, so I picked up the bits of bike and spectacles (there was no sign of the tooth) and limped my way there. At the door, a friendly friend's mum made a horrified expression, and ushered me inside. Tea, sympathy, and a lift back home followed in swift succession.

Where was I? Oh yes, teeth. Until that moment with the parked car, I'd never needed any serious dental treatment. But now I did, oh boy. Injections, drills, tools and whatnot shoved into my unwilling mouth one after the other. I emerged from it all with a false tooth, not quite the correct shade of yellow, firmly implanted into my gum.

Ah yes, my gum. By gum.

Teeth have not been uppermost in my mind ever since. I did my twice-a-day brush and didn't fret about them. Life went on.

But at my last checkup, the dentist said: "I want you to see the hygenist."

Bah, I thought. Just an excuse to charge me extra for a scrub and a cleanup. But I went anyway.

And the hygenist took one look inside my mouth and said: "You've got quite a serious problem in there haven't you?"

Have I?

"Yes. It's very noticeable as soon as I look inside your mouth. You've got a serious case of recession. Have you noticed any sensitivity when you eat?"

Not really.

"Well you're very lucky. I would expect someone with recession this serious to be having a lot of trouble with hot or cold food. Your gums, you see should be up here." She gestured with a metal pointy thing while I looked in a mirror.

"But they're not, they're down here. They've shrunk. And they will never grow back. We need to do what we can to prevent them receding any further."

Oh. Blimey. So, now what?

It turns out I have to change the habit of a lifetime. Literally. I have to re-learn how to brush my teeth, because for the last three decades I've been brushing the gums away with my enthusiasm to keep the teeth clean. The hygenist pulled out a disposable, pre-toothpasted toothbrush and started to show me the right way to brush.

"Softly," she said. "Softly, and gently. I think over the years you've been hacking away at them like a wild thing, haven't you? They deserve a bit more in the way of tender loving care."

She brushed, softly and gently. The pre-toothpaste was better and nicer than the cheap stuff I usually buy. But I remain quite alarmed. Stuff going wrong with my teeth just isn't something I'm used to. It happens to other people. I've always been so careful with my teeth.

But that's the point, the hygenist admonished me. You have always been careful with your teeth and that's great. You have smashing teeth. Nothing wrong with that. And you've ignored your gums. You've completely ignored your gums.

Kindle konspiracy

2009-08-13T13:59:00.001-07:00

(Here's a piece I wrote about the Amazon/Kindle/Orwell debacle a few weeks ago, for my PA column. The column has to be written very simply, avoiding jargon and technical mumbo-jumbo, which is sometimes quite a challenge for a technology article that's only 250 words long. Anyway, I quite liked how this one turned out, so here it is.)

Amazon (amazon.com) is the biggest online retailer in the world. It's also leading the pack with ebook technology. Its Kindle device - not yet on sale in the UK - has impressed many people with its high quality screen and long battery life.

But some of them were less than impressed when they woke up last Friday and found that certain ebooks had vanished from their Kindles overnight.

Amazon had reached out across the internet and instructed all Kindles with copies of George Orwell's "1984" and "Animal Farm" to remove those texts. Customers were refunded the cost of each title deleted.

But it's not the money that people are upset about, it's the principle. Affected Kindle owners were horrified.

It all turned out to be a ghastly mistake. The Orwell titles should never have been sold as ebooks in the first place; a third party had added them to the wrong list in error.

At the heart of this is the nature of ebooks. Customers think they're just like paper books, but electronic; that they are "owned". But some folk in the publishing industry consider them more like a library loan; something "rented".

The Kindle is a clever bit of kit for sure, but ebooks still have a long way to go. And in the meantime, everyone's going to have to reach some agreement about what, exactly, is being paid for.

Minimalism in book jacket design

2009-08-12T15:23:00.001-07:00

This book wins.

Wifi network name of the week

2009-08-12T15:19:00.001-07:00

Support Team Bumble Beemer

2009-08-12T07:04:00.001-07:00

Behold, the Bumble Beemer! My friends Phil and Emma are part of a team that will be driving this clapped-out wreck - sorry, this masterpiece of automative design - from Calais to Naples this coming September. You can follow the story of how the drab BMW was transformed into the worthy-of-superherodom Bumble Beemer at the official Beemer Posterous. They're raising money for Macmillan Cancer Support and for Warwickshire & Northamptonshire Air Ambulance; if you could spare them a fiver for their trouble, and by way of reward for the extraordinary lengths they've gone to in order to get the car decorated, I'm sure they'd be very grateful.

Sponsoring them's easy: start at their JustGiving page.

Go team Bumble Beemer! Drive! Drive like the, um, wind!

Light from one side creates texture

2009-08-11T15:09:00.001-07:00

That's something Derrick Story taught me: texture shows up when you have light coming in from one side. So of course, now I snap every single bit of texture I see. Some are better than others. This is actually nothing special, but the sky was so lovely and blue this afternoon, I felt it deserved posting for that reason alone.

Kate at the farm shop

2009-08-11T14:29:00.000-07:00

I'm forcing myself to try and get more from the 18-55mm lens that came with my camera, especially at wider angles. I'm making a point of looking for wide angle shots, and seeing if I can make a decent job of them.

This photo is a good lesson in wide angle composition. The umbrella poking from the side of Kate's head is the kind of thing I'd instantly notice in a closer, narrower portrait (the sort I normally shoot), but I didn't notice it when I clicked the shutter release button on this occasion. A mistake made because of altered context.

Looking after people's links is hard work

2009-08-10T11:49:00.001-07:00

When the people at tr.im said they didn't want to run a link-shortening service any more, it struck a chord. When we said the same thing back in 2007, it was for slightly different reasons, but on the whole a similar sentiment: operating and maintaining a database of links is a thankless task. No-one wants to pay for it, spammers and scammers will do everything they can to abuse it, and the users have very high expectations.

They assume (perhaps rightly, perhaps not) that their URLs will be valid forever. That's something that's easy to promise, but extremely hard to deliver.

Beach scene

2009-08-08T16:03:00.001-07:00

At low tide, the rocks emerge. There are two outcrops, one to the left and one to the right. On the left, the pickings are richer. Tiny crabs, tiny hermit crabs, larger common shore crabs. Peer into the water in the sunlight and there are dozens of little shrimpy things loitering in the pools. You can delve your fingers in and scoop out wildlife by the handful. Walk on - beware the slippery rocks - and you can hear the crustaceans crunching underfoot.

I lived here for decades, and I had no idea it was all there. No idea at all.

Many otters, one hairy caterpillar

2009-08-08T14:40:00.001-07:00

It's Pop-o-matic!

2009-08-05T13:50:00.000-07:00

Crossing the White Line

2009-08-04T15:23:00.001-07:00

via crossingthewhiteline.com

Great stuff. Walter Tull went to my primary school about 70 years before I did; now the kids there have helped to make this film about his life.