iBlob?
Some time ago I did one of those industry surveys that we all get sent every now and again, there was a vague promise to be put into a draw to win an mp3 player, as I never win these things, and the article in question was manufactured by phillips I thought nothing of it. Anyway, I already have an iPod that some other lighting manufacturer gave me last year.
This morning I was awakened by a courier who handed me a mysterious box, no cover note or anything. On investigation it turns out that I have actually won something, the afforementioned phillips mp3 player in fact. Great, I thought, I'll give it to someone, hopefully someone who is not so materialistic and shallow as to demand a real iPod. This was before I opened the box.
The article contained within is a triumph of misapplication, an mp3 player is by definition portable, this device is four times the size and weight of my iPod, and yet has only enough memory to store eight cds (my Ipod will store up to eight days of continual music). It has speakers, and an FM radio which only works if you use it with headphones. In short, it is a racehorse designed by a committee, and whilst I am reluctant to look any gift horse in the mouth, I cannot think of any use for it.
Oh well, that's someone's christmas spoiled!
help wanted
You may recall an earlier post about the Aurora Watch service, which helpfully and conveniently notifies you about the possible appearance of the Aurora Borealis. I have just had this e-mail warning about the possible closure of the service, so, if you have ever felt the urge to see the Northern Lights, please send a message of support. All details in the mailing:
Picture taken from the AuroraWatch website:
http://www.dcs.lancs.ac.uk/iono/aurorawatch/ and taken by John Gilmour in Monikie, north of Dundee.
Dear AuroraWatch subscribers
Recently, the Particle Physics and Astronomy Research Council (PPARC)reviewed its policy in respect of UK solar-terrestrial physics funding. PPARC has decided that it will "maintain a presence inground-based solar-terrestrial physics" but "withdraw earlier [than planned] from ...a number of solar-terrestrial physics facilities."
As a result, as of April 2007, the UK sub-auroral magnetometer network(SAMNET) will no longer be funded as a UK national facility. PPARChas suggested that the Lancaster University SAMNET team apply for alternative support, but future funding is by no means guaranteed.
Clearly, if SAMNET closes down the AuroraWatch service will cease to operate entirely. Over the next few weeks, the Lancaster team will be making the case to try and reverse PPARC's decision to stop funding SAMNET as a UK national facility. In this crucial period, messages of support from AuroraWatch subscribers could make a very real difference to our case!
If you would like to show your support for the AuroraWatch service, please send an email to me (j.wild@lancaster.ac.uk) indicating why you do not wish the SAMNET and AuroraWatch service to be discontinued.
I will then collate the responses and forward them to PPARC. It does not need to be a lengthy email - a short message will make more impact than no message at all!
However, when composing your message you might consider mentioning some/all of the following points:- how long you have been an AuroraWatch subscriber- the basis of your interest in the aurora (e.g. school pupil/student, teacher, amateur astronomer, radio amateur, interested member of the public)- whether you have ever seen the Aurora as a result of an AuroraWatch alert. It is also vitally important to give your name and geographic location (i.e. county). Please contact me if you have any questions or require further guidance - every message counts!
Finally, it has probably been some time since you last received an AuroraWatch alert, but this doesn't mean that the AuroraWatch service is not working! SAMNET is automatically searching for auroral activity over the UK 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. However, the Sun is currently approaching the quietest part of its 11 year activity cycle. Over the next couple of years, solar activity will begin to pick up again, increasing the likelihood of aurora over the UK. If you would like AuroraWatch to be operating during this period of increased auroral activity, please support us by responding to this message!
Best regards,Dr Jim Wild
mailto:j.wild@lancaster.ac.uk(and on behalf of the SAMNET/AuroraWatch team)
the flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la...
Three days away in manchester and I come back to a riot of springlike activity; my Oullins Golden Gage tree, which last year produced two fruits in rather an apologetic way is absolutely covered in flowers (see Ill.). All the other trees that have been holding back for the past few years seem to be doing the same, I foresee jam making in the autumn. Which is a bit of a shame, because I don't actually eat that much jam. The gooseberry bushes are absolutely covered in flowers too, and hopefully the Avril Lavigne treatment will continue to be effective, I got enough to make a small pie last year, maybe this year will be better.
(see parrots v skaterpunk:
http://lx999.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_lx999_archive.html )
The blue bottle hanging in the tree, by the way, is a rather excellent wasp trap, present from the nottingham correspondent.
I also have a new banana to add to the collection, musa dwarf red, produces edible red fruit in the UK apparently, given that it is two inches high at present I won't be holding my breath. Sad casualties thus far have been the musella lasiocarpa, which I think just didn't get enough light, and my buddha's hand citron, which has gone into shock, and dropped all its leaves. I have some hope it will recover, but I notice that a slug has ringbarked one bit of it, so war is declared early.
the joy of manchester
Back at Old Trafford to do a show for Esso, the football ground is its customary cheerless place, as is its location. The normally insane Health and Safety man (part of the catering department?), is somewhat subdued, and has not allowed his total ignorance to blight our activities this time. Perhaps he remembers that the last time I was here I ran over his foot with a fully loaded cable flightcase, after he had sent one of our people off-site for not wearing steel toe caps. Was he wearing steelies? I think not. Nor have people working up ladders had to wear hard hats, while those working below do not. Maybe he's growing up.
The conference seems to be going well, although I now know more about leveraged sandwich placement in the niche 'grab and go' market than I would ever have thought possible. We have a monster
Coffee Nation coffee making machine right next to the front of house control position, and, as this expensive beasty does in fact produce extremely nice fresh coffee (also has a 'more power' button, yes, their coffee does go to 11), we are all buzzing with it. Otherwise, I can report that the sandwich makeover seems only to extend to the packaging and not to the contents, all reference to superior flavour and ingredients are blatant hype. As for pasties, I picked up one to try, but after spending about half an hour working my way through the list of ingredients I decided it was safer left in the wrapper. It did claim that the ham was cured, but didn't say what had been wrong with it. So far, the best in show has been little bags of mixed dried fruit and nuts, which I'm sure will demand a small mortgage to purchase. Did I mention the World Cup theming, no? Well now I have, nuff said.
Last night I went for a walk, partly to buy a bottle of water and partly because I like to explore the area I’m working in. I walked for an hour and only found a petrol station to shop in. This is an area that is undergoing ‘regeneration’, this seems to mean that everything is razed to the ground and replaced with Fast Food outlets and Sofa Shops. All around luxury housing developments are springing up; empty cardboard dishwasher boxes flutter past like industrial tumbleweed, emphasising the dirty and deserted streets. Nowhere in this miserable experience is there a shop or a supermarket, when the aspirational urban loft-dweller moves in to their converted warehouse apartment, they will find that the only option for shopping or entertainment is to get into their car and head out of town.
I would beg to suggest that the monolithic presence of Man U is a bit of a blight on the area too, the occasional need to provide car parking for up to eighty thousand fans means that there is a an awful lot of open space here.
Despite their awful website, the coffee is damn good!
http://www.coffee-nation.com/
high visibility?
I made a quick dash to Tesco tonight, to get a few bits and bobs in before the place shuts down for chocolate and religion, and having successfully done my bit of shopping I set off to the car park.
Blocking the whole of a disabled bay was an enormous breakdown truck, nothing unusual there, but I suspected that this was the chosen vehicle of dodgy phil, the man who occasionally fixes my car, and to whom I owe £40.00. Great, I thought, ideal opportunity to pay my debt, I'll just make sure that it is him, and get the money out. I went back into Tesco and had a look round. Off in the distance by the bakery counter I spotted a middle aged man in a High Visibility coat, couldn't be absolutely sure, and went in for a closer look. Could I find a slow moving 50+ year old in a luminous yellow coat? Could I hell! I went everywhere in that damn shop, and he was not to be found, I even went outside to check the truck was still there. After about ten minutes I gave up, I don't even know where he lives, he has to be paid cash, and can only be contacted by leaving a message on his mobile. Oh well, maybe next time!
wild country
I was back out with the red kites again yesterday, there were plenty in evidence, but it was a sunny day and they were taking full advantage of the thermals to soar high above us.
Otherwise, there was plenty of other activity, the badgers have apparently moved on, although there are great upheavals of freshly dug earth and well worn paths around their set. There is an ex-badger, although all that remains is the skull and part of the spine, all rather whiffy too. These were being snacked on by a family of rats when I looked at the set, and the rodents continued to chew away quite happily during the course of the day. Their days are numbered, as a horny-handed son of toil arrived with a great bucket of rat-bait, which he then proceeded to scatter around the site (with his bare hands; we all shrieked 'health and safety' in unison).
The field adjoining to the car park and the barn where I work is full of lambs, unfortunately the fencing isn't exactly stockproof, and the lambs can squeeze through, consequently the car park is full of wandering and curious lambs, they press their noses against the windows where important meetings are going on and generally get in the way. Our horny-handed son of toil promises an electric fence, whether this will contain the lambs or shock the employees sneaking a crafty fag remains to be seen.
I managed to grab a picture of the carriage washing facility as I passed, I took it from the window of my car as I passed, so apologies for the quality.
Apparently Sir Thingy, lord of the manor, is going to have a party for his son and heir in one of the barns, and we are going to provide facilities. Said son is apparently a professional Elton John, glad to know there is at least one.
castles in the air
This afternoon I went out to the new unit that the lighting company I'm associated with has just moved into. It's on a farm (no business rates), in Kent, just the other side of the M25/M20 junction for all you motorway junkies.
It emerged during the course of conversation that we have agreed to supply lighting for the local am-drams production of 'Oliver'. 'Where are they going to do it?' I asked, as the village hall is the size of a phone box.
'In the castle' came the reply.
'Castle?'
'Have a look round the back of the unit' was the response, and there, to my considerable surprise was an 11th century motte and bailey ruin, abandoned during the 14th century apparently.
So, we have a truck wash (anything bigger than a van has to drive through the river to get to us), a cricket club, a pub within five minutes walk, and now a castle. It makes moving out of the East End seem worthwhile.
spring?
One of the nice things about coming back after a couple of weeks away is to see what's happened in the garden. This year there has been a very late spring, and things are very delayed, by no means a bad thing in my opinion.
What has caught my eye are the primroses, which are galloping away, practically half the lawn is now invaded; I can forsee that quite a few will have to be dug out before the grass is cut, and the violets under the apple trees. This year they are a very strong colour, violet in fact, and the flowers are quite large. By comparison, our neighbours specimens are small and insipid in colour. An indication that native species do benefit from a more traditional spring I guess.
viking funeral
Our French mill-cottage contained a small population of rather downcast breton stereotypes:
The reason for their distress eventually became clear; one of their number, still happily clutching the fish which in a moment of macho male size-posturing was evidently the cause of his demise, had fallen to his death into a bowl of artificial fruit:
It was clear what had to be done, and his leering chums gathered on the bridge to witness his final send-off in a truly viking spirit:
The pyre was built, and the fireship was prepared with rare herbs and sacrificial unguents, and our heroes body was placed carefully on its final resting place:
The fires were lit, and the ship launched on its final voyage towards the maelstrom:
The first part of the voyage was calm, and the living saluted the departing dead in their own unique, but strangely stereotypical ways:
Once it had passed beneath the second bridge, the pace quickened and our heroes flaming remains slipped gently into their final watery resting place:
carnac
The extraordinary alignments of megalithic stones at Carnac are not very far from us here, and we duly visited. The rough guide to Brittany has thus far been invaluable, and its suggestions fitted well with our needs. Thus, when the guide says; don’t bother with the museum, it’s dry as dust, very academic and unless you want to drool over endless display cases full of axe heads avoid it. As it happened, the museum was closed, so we were spared the agony of choice.
Depredation by soil erosion is a serious problem around the stones, and so access is severely limited as they are trying to get the grass to regrow. We were able to stomp around one set of stones, but the really large monoliths were inaccessible.
We’ve done well with street eating, the inevitable jambon/fromage baguette is always good, but we’ve also found anchovy pizza, and, on our journey down, we found an incredible apple tart; we went into a boulangerie to pick up a loaf of bread, and on the counter was an enormous brown thing, the size of a generous York stone paving slab. Our curiosity was piqued, and we had to buy a chunk, it turned out to be a sticky and delicious tart, lumps of apple and crème patissier sandwiched in a gloopy envelope, with a buttery and crispy pastry under it all. Just as well we’d bought it, as we had failed to buy food on the way down, and our cottage offered only powdered milk, a slightly dodgy bottle of wine and Tesco economy gravy granules.
The cottage is terrific, although the fitting out is unfortunate, our landlords seem to have an obsession with chairs; although advertised for two persons, in the upstairs room we have seating for ten, excluding the bed, and in the downstairs we can accommodate thirteen. There are also a great many cutesy Breton gnomes leering at one from the kitchen shelving, we have already cremated one, and plan to experiment with Viking funerals on the millstream when the rain eases off, although whether our ever-present canine companions will permit this blameless activity remains to be seen. Simple log collecting for the woodburning stove has become more than somewhat complicated with competitive stick play added into the equation, just as well that a stick hurled into the mill stream will take the dog away for those few minutes necessary.
Pictures of viking funeral, carnac etc to follow.
brittany
The Nottingham correspondent and I availed ourselves of the delights of the interweb to find a cheap weeks break anywhere in France, the end result has been a C16 mill cottage in Brittany for surprisingly little money. I have never been to Brittany before, but anywhere that combines apples, cider, and seafood has to be good.
One curious sight we keep encountering is the prevalence all over the area of monkey-puzzle trees, all of them more or less the same age, and not of the same shape of the ones I’ve seen growing in the UK. These ones are of a more compact shape, forming a sort of elongated oval; our researches have indicated that they are a separate cultivar, called Araucaria Imbricata (my researches now indicate that this is another name for the same cultivar, so I am none the wiser). We have managed to locate a few specimens in local garden centres, but nothing small and affordable as yet. The picture was snatched from the window of a speeding car, but is the best illustration we have been able to provide.
Subsequent researches lead me to believe that the tree in question is actually the Bunya Bunya Pine, aka False Monkeypuzzle, Araucaria Bidwillii, a close relative, but a native of Australia rather than Chile. It also grows to a height of about 50m but has a more pinecone like shape and is slightly more tender (not an issue in the UK). I have ordered some seeds from my favourite seedspersons;
http://www.tradewindsfruit.com/I guess we'll have to wait and see, this could take several years.
Our cottage has a visitor, a faithful, but rather smelly black Labrador, who is obviously overjoyed to have people in the cottage again. He’s well aware of the timetable to which holidaymakers conform, so presumably does Labrador business for the earlier part of the morning, before trotting down the hill to check on the progress of breakfast. He hangs around faithfully, sleeping on the doormat, until we make a move, and once a few sticks have been thrown, and we show signs of moving off, he trots back up the hill without looking back. In the last day, he has been joined by an apprentice, a much younger black Labrador, much less self-assured, and given to leaning. Second dog is more athletic, and gets up on his hindpaws to be sure that you know he is outside the cottage, he is equally malodorous though.
The weather has been quite wet, but much warmer than the UK, cheese and food more than compensates for the moisture. Although we are surrounded by water pretty much on all sides, there is a bit of a duck trauma going on; we gain a mild pleasure from feeding the ducks, round here, although there is a perfectly suitable duck pond (in fact two and a semi-suitable patch of slow moving stream), there have been few duck related opportunities. This morning there was a mallard scunnering about on the lake, but strangely, when we ambled down to the lake with some stale bread, accompanied by two gun dogs, it took off for the hills.
Fun and games in Sunny Wakefield.
It is unusual in my experience for the production period to be entirely without pain, in the case of Bouncers, however, it is as close as I’ve been for a long time. Although I had an ever changing list of sound cues issued daily from rehearsals, I was able to get most of it together before I went up for the get-in and the run up to opening. Fortunately I was able to take a small mountain of recording and editing gear up with me, and set up a recording studio in one of the dressing rooms. Most of the sound was compiled and edited on my laptop, and I was able to make edits and change stuff on the fly as required, before burning a series of show CDs with all the cues identified and in the right order, it was quite satisfying to be able to turn to the director and point out to him just how long the same process would have taken five years ago.
The lighting was also very painless; Wakefield has the same Chief Electrician that was there when I last toured there fifteen years ago, and her fierce energy and permanent good humour made the whole process a pleasure.
As always when the schedule is being put together you slot in as much contingency as you think you can get away with, this left us in the slightly embarrassing position of sending the actors home early three days in a row, as we fitted the lighting and sound sessions into much less time than we had allowed for.
This also left me in the slightly awkward position of trying to find something to do in Wakefield on a weekday evening, not easy if you are over 25 and not wanting to get stupidly drunk. Food that doesn’t involve chips isn’t easy either, one night I had the strangest Nasi Goreng I have ever had anywhere (it seemed to include apricot jam in its ingredients), however, my emergency touring chilli sauce saved the day.
Wakefield has in its centre one of the highest concentrations of what can only be described as prestige buildings; mostly dating from the late 19th century these monuments to Victorian self-aggrandisement and chutzpah are now 1980’s styled retro bars, their clientele a shrieking gaggle of teenagers, their odyssey chronicled in the show I have just designed. I find it very sad that this formerly prosperous wool and coal town is now dependant on the binge drinking youth culture to sustain its corporate income, and doubly sad that the burghers of Wakefield seem to think that this is a reasonable program for the future.
My hotel, bizarrely named ‘The Billy Budd Hotel’ (why would you name a hotel after a novel describing inhuman cruelty and dubious practises in the navy?), was so close to the theatre that I could walk to the stage door in less than two minutes, but set new standards in dubious British hotel keeping. I can’t comment on the food, even though I could smell the frying oil everywhere in the building I never made it to breakfast. My room overlooked the theatre car park, where both the Hotel, and the adjoining mega-pub stored their bins of empty bottles. The special glass collection service was at 5.00 am, followed by the bins at 7.00. The bed was microscopic and had a plastic undersheet, which can make the sleeping process uncomfortable, especially when the hotel is heated to a close to incendiary temperature and the window cannot be kept open because the catch has broken off.So it goes, there was no incentive to lounge in my room and watch telly, which is probably a good thing, and overall, Wakefield was a very positive experience, and the show was very well received. It is meant to tour in the autumn, with the very real possibility of going to Huddersfield, a venue that fills me with a positive and potential horror, about which I may yet blog.
