Day 531, Hyde Park over the rainbow

Weigh a pie.*

Glass falls down all around you.

When a window someone above breaks.

* There is no meaning here, it is just an out of context reference to the playground joke about how to weigh pies.

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Day 530, Arts, AP B DAY

If you need to send a bold message this is the way to do it.

Get a big tower.

Th r , s rt d.

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Day 529, Discover a career where you'll be heard

It's in the open air at least.

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Day 528. Keep it up

You there.

Yes, you.

Stand up.

Or you'll be barred.

Right that's it.

You're barred.

Formerly Walter Trickett & Co. Ltd. Cutlers & Silversmiths, Anglo Works, now Maggie May's bar.

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Day 527, North Pier

Looking straight back toward Blackpool from a temporary perch in the Irish Sea.

It is evident that the candy floss has started to take effect.

This is how HDR used to be achieved.

By faffing about with Curves in Photoshop.

Blackpool, home to the Golden Mile, Trams, a tower,* the Pleasure Beach, and quite a lot of homeless people.

The Wild Mouse, an elderly and completely wooden rollercoaster, features on the Pleasure Beach.

A bruising ride contained in a very small cubic area, it has many sudden and sharp turns.

The North Pier shares none of those qualities.

The pier for the use of the genteel and well heeled, the Wild Mouse for those that wish to be battered.

Battered.

Like the cod at Harry Ramsden's, just back on the mainland and to the right.**

* Towers are great.
** I'm not being paid for this.


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Day 526, Where are you going next

Let's look at White Bay in Scotland, close to where the River Dee flows into the Irish Sea.

This picture doesn't look much like Scotland though, what gives?

Yes that's right, it isn't Scotland, but that is the Irish Sea.

This is the northernmost tip of the Isle of Man, where a tiny lighthouse sits next to a massive foghorn.*

Stare straight ahead.

Ok you can't see anything but sea, and maybe a thumb print in the shape of a cloud.

42km straight ahead is White Bay.

But even if you jump in the air you won't be able to see it.

At sea level the observable horizon is only 4.7km away, roughly 9% of the distance to White Bay.

We need to be standing at a height of 138.4m above sea level for us to see White Bay from here.**

So take a long ladder.

Some circus skills.

And an enormous trampoline.

* Like the Tory front bench, oh, lighthouse, not shi...
** Observable distance to horizon in km is roughly equivalent to 3.57 multiplied by the square root of the height in metres - not accounting for the effect of atmospheric refraction.


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Day 525, Place Pigalle

A wet Parisian day in the district of Pigalle.

The Moulin Rouge not far from here on the Boulevard de Clichy.

It is an area populated with sex shops, music shops, and tourist traps.

Sleazy characters line the street at night, luring tourists into 'live' shows.

A tree on the right has been removed since this picture was taken.

The tree removal was due to an alteration to the road.

A little less cover from the rain.

And one less place for the sleazy characters to lurk behind.

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Day 524, Dog rough

Urgh.

Don't make me dream of giant magnets.

What planet is this.

This is not my alien mind.

Why is it that time.

Is this oral cavity made entirely from recycled egg boxes.

Just one needle drill will do it.

And a length of surgical wire, bristled, with a vacuum pump.

Pulp and insert liquidised garlic, chillies, and paracetamol.

Scratch that needle drill, get a circular saw, industrial.

Call the extraction squad.

This job isn't on my assignment list.

What clearance level has been breached.

Too many light years from home.

What strange walkways.

Was that a horse?

Stream of blither.


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Day 523, Biomechanics for beginners

Changing the clutch assembly on an early 21st Century biological motive unit.

A piece of cake as long as the Haynes manual is available.

Unscrew the thruxton stopper to gain access to the wetware.

Remove the Remmington-Trubshawe bolt, making a note of the torque settings for your beast.

Place the bolt to one side for re-grease later.

Check the clearance on the rear fibrocartilage, replace if outside of tolerances.

If your bio-clutch is post 2005 it will be wet and the nutrient rich oil should be drained before proceeding.

Check your biomass for the correct type and quantity of replacement fluid - to be added after reassembly.

Release the outer bolts on the clutch plate, loosen each of the six a little at a time.

Prepare for the springs to embed themselves in your face.

Remove blood, clean wounds, and apply cadexomer iodine solution to any deep injury.

Assuming the blood flow has been stemmed then continue with disassembly.

Use a reputable degreasant on any particularly rancid parts.

Stand, brush off your knees and have a cup of tea.

Refer to page 2003 for reassembly instructions.

After successful reassembly test your motive unit by slowly towing a medium sized trailer.

If no grinding noises are heard and movement is free then congratulate yourself on your biomechanical skill.

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Day 522, Time off

I hear the wood pigeons.

Too many hours not at work.

Tick, tick, tick, the declaration.

But nobody hears, who has a watch that makes that noise?

Absence of audible tracking regardless, time moves by.

No, not too many hours.

Or too many minutes without sixty seconds' worth of distance run.

Reading, just reading.

The runners only on the page.

Until the book is put aside.

And the wood pigeons carried on their important work throughout.

Tumbling through branches.

Idleness placed in context, though not to many.

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Day 521, Multiple Perceptron fail

Let's go about problem solving.

Using intelligence, logic, reasoning and language?

We'll use whatever is available.

Any why don't we automate it?

Why not.

We'll use nouvelle AI taking advantage of neural networks and evolutionary computing.

But we'll also take elements of traditional AI like heuristic search.

And then throw as much resource at it as is practicable?

Yes, let's make use of our own distributed resource.

Shall we start?

Yes, let's Go.

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Day 520, The answer is in the soil

I've no idea whether the answer is in the soil or not.

Although that might be that the questions being asked aren't relevant to the plant-life world of knowledge.

If the question is about acidity, alkalinity, or friability then the plants will tell us soon enough.

Although that does require us to be able to read the signs.

Generally though I'm asking questions that it's unlikely the plants will know answers to.

What the heck, they may know, who am I to judge them or underestimate what they might add to the body of intelligence.

What is needed is an interpreter

Look at these shoots peering out, are they speaking to us - if only we had Charlie Windsor here we might understand.

Although we might also need someone to translate us into RP, there would be more than one language barrier.

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Day 519, Safety Elf

Here we have a small example of health and safety in the working kitchen.

Clearly visible in the background is a laminated copy of the Factories Act 1961.*

This indicates an understanding of the legal requirements.

The stock photo of the Safety Elf demonstrates correct usage of protective equipment.

A hard hat, always suitable when cooking items that could cause concussion.

Safety goggles, to prevent hot-fat or shards of egg being hurled into the eyes.

The other two team members are at a safe distance, aware of the risk.

Maybe all is ok.

Not at all slightly like the opening sequence of the popular television drama, Casualty.

Even given the lack of protective gauntlets.

But what's the bacon being cooked on, there's a bit of blue metal on the left, is it a camping gas stove?

Is that allowed, after all we are on the eleventh floor and this is a tower block?

Strictly no, it isn't allowed.

Although the construction of this tower isn't susceptible to the same problem which caused the collapse of Ronan Point.

And the gas isn't delivered by a mains pipe.

In reality the likelihood of anything untoward gas-wise happening here is very slight.

There's more chance of being electrocuted by that Baby Belling someone has foolishly placed on the work surface.

Or getting a hernia from lifting that prehistoric microwave, or more likely being irradiated by it.

And the bacon?**

A potential hazard that lies dormant long after the other health and safety issues are forgotten.

A colorectal time-bomb ready to bite the unprepared backside.

That delightful cured meat product and its charming hidden properties.

A sleeping comestible danger with no corresponding act of parliament from the 1960s.

Not all risks are visible.

Being delivered from a working kitchen somewhere near you.***

* Take your pick (it's the latter) - meddling do-gooders / sensible legislation to prevent abuse and workplace hazards.
** This may not actually be bacon, it may be 'bacon substitute'.
*** If you read the Daily Mail

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Day 518, Sorting Resistance

This is the sort of thing that might prompt the purchase of an auto-ranging multimeter.

The process is that of sorting resistors in to groups of ranges.

Resistors.  Thousands of 'em.

Although they do handily have their values coded on the side in coloured bands.

Which even if you have fully functioning colour vision are almost impossible to read.

So that means every set of them needs manual checking.

And while that may appear to be a tedious task at first, it becomes a zen like task after a short while.

That's what I'm trying to convince myself of at least.

Let's enter a zen like calm.

Ohmmmmmmmmmm.*

* That was completely accidental, but sorry anyway.

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Day 517, Solder sponge

This is the ongoing quest to be almost pretty good and definitely not crap, for the least amount of effort.

A five year mission, something, something, mumbles.

No wait, don't mumble.

To do something really good and really well requires time and effort, obviously.

The idea that the least amount of effort is good enough is a flimsy one.

But the difficulty then becomes how much effort beyond 'good enough' is needed.

People will mention the law of diminishing returns, the 80:20 rule, and no doubt others.

I'm pretty sure that if I stop here then I might have inverted the 80:20 rule.

Although not in an ideal way, thus, 20% effort*, and only 20% any good**.

The answer is in the solder sponge, it does not lie.

How so.

Once you start you have to finish, otherwise there is no point.***

* Probably not even 20%, how exactly is that calculated?
** No comment.  Is 'no comment' itself self-referential?
*** This does not need explaining, it is not an obscure reference but a crap analogy.

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Day 516, Crossing the river Styx

There are perhaps many ways to cross the river Styx in your journey to the underworld.

Let's look at the one chosen by my old friend J Nobsworth-Wheelmangler.

J-Nob, as we knew Nobsworth, was descended from a line of farriers.  A very long line of farriers that mainly lead to the job centre, given that there isn't quite the requirement for their  equine services as once there was.

One of the things that had a large impact on their family history was the invention of the wheel.  The verbal history, handed down from ear to ear by each generation, tells of the first sighting of the round objects.  J-Nob said, in a telling from a very early memory, "we could see that was the beginning of the end..."

And so it came to pass that almost three thousand five hundred years later the need for horse transportation had diminished to such a tiny extent that the family Nobsworth outnumbered the requirement for practitioners of their historic trade.  There was a brief burst of resistance around the time of the second world war but this was futile, only leading to the addition of the latter part of their hyphenated family name.

J-Nob wasn't slow to accept that there was little that could be done, and the decision was made that there was no point in carrying on.  In fact there was no point in carrying on full stop.  A trip to the underworld was chosen as the only sensible resolution, a trip that would have to be taken using the family nemesis, the wheel.

J-Nob had never learned to drive or ride a bicycle.  This left little by way of transport choice.  The only option open was that of skateboard, there being such a low entry level of cost and skill associated with such methods of mobility.

A suitable map was procured and a date set.

Now you might consider that crossing a river by wheeled vehicle may prove difficult.  Normally this would be correct, however the river Styx has also had to adapt a changing world (pleasure cruises, water speed records, pedalo) and now there is another method of crossing available.  While this method is not exactly bridge-like, it is sort of bridge-like being a collection of sewerage pipes which have been built above water level.

J-Nob would have to enter the pipes to make the crossing, there being a smooth surface internally rather than the ridged outer surface.  J-Nob made a final speech of regret and loss, and handed over the last unspoken fragment of verbal history to the assembled crowd of well-wisher.  "Shoe or shoo, we never knew, but now it matters no longer.  I must enter the pipe.  Farewell."

And that was the last we saw of J-Nobsworth-Wheelmangler.  Although on a winter night, when the wind blows at the right angle across the pipes and their peculiar resonance reverberates down the valley, it is thought that there is the sound of hammer against nail, the faint sound hoof shavings landing, and a quiet whinnying resembling that of someone shouting "WHEELS, YOU BLOODY WHEELS, THE SKATEBOARD WHEELS WON"T STAY ON." 

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Day 515, Chimp Guevara

It looked a lot like Che Guevara
Except in T-shirt form
Kept itself in quiet seclusion
Such as the second drawer down
The only survivor of the last old T-shirt cull
Picnic in Dalston, I ask you, what a loss
It wanted to stay home, the face was just too worn

Picnic in Dalston*

* This was the best possible at short notice, apologies to both Dalston and Bowie.

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Day 514, Rubber legs

The result of high intensity interval training (HIIT), rubber legs.

Some forms of HIIT are supposed to have a dramatic impact on fat burning, most forms are good for the cardiovascular system.

I'm assuming I have a cardiovascular system, I certainly have fat.

And the fat doesn't appear to be decreasing at as rapid a rate as expected.

But weight is decreasing, 1.7Kg in 14 days, which seems slow but probably isn't that slow.

Here are some random numbers that the 'magic' weighing device has assumed by some secret and strange measurement.

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Day 513, Rubber Feet

For one day only, Rubber Feet on special offer.

Never slip again with these patented foot replacement units.

Just remove your current feet (bone amputation saw not provided) and adhere these super-grip rubber ones to your bloody stumps.

"So much more convenient" - Mrs Tench, North Wales

"A boon to the housebound" - Mr E Pike, Cumbria

"Remind me of home" - Mr Rudd, Framlingham  

"So much more convenient" - Mrs Grayling, Wincanton

"What the fuck have I done, arggghhhhhhh" - Mr A Gudgeon, Appin, Argyleshire

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Day 512, Tree rootless leaves

In the post apocalyptic wasteland, where people stood trees now recline.

What would once have been derided for being idle, lazy, or a scrounger, no longer has vituperative language aimed at it.

It doesn't matter to the tree, it has had its moment.

The end hastened by cuts made to its mobility allowance.

Unable to travel the tree no longer worked.

It was 'released' by the employer.

And being assumed to have voluntarily made itself workless the tree lost access to other benefits.

The lack of base nutrients, a helping of intense wind, and eventually the tree collapsed with no chance of recovery.

Decomposition started.

The detritivore community immediately moved in, of interest to the Daily Mail, before the copse was cold.

And the surrounding tree community breathed a sigh of relief, "it wasn't me".

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Day 511, Sontaran hideaway

On a hillside near you.

Secreted behind a lump of oversized moss.

Surrounded by an arbitrary sensory disruption field.

Lie the Sontaran look out posts.

They are everywhere, and you will find them if you know how to look.

And you have taken the correct sort of mind altering substance with which to counter the disruption field.

A slope with trees, where you have a vaguely perceptible visual disturbance or odd collection of thoughts.

Two pinches of Three Castles Tobacco, a dash of Tabasco sauce, and the white spots from the fly agaric mushroom.

Steeped overnight in thimble full of export grade Vimto.

Drink it down in one go when in the vicinity of what you believe to be a disruption field.

Wait for twenty two minutes then blink twice, turn through 360 degrees, and stare.

If your hunch is right you will see the posts, their shapes almost identical to that of a Sontaran battle helm.

Then run away, what on earth are you doing you fool.

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Day 510, Memories of a working grill

Memories, of a poached egg on cheese on toast*

Blurred then enhanced unsharp mask memories, of the snacks we ate


Spattered images of the yolks we left behind

Compliments we gave to one another for the way we ate


Can it be there was only one egg left

Or was it saved for another time

If the chance arose to eat it all again, tell me, would we, could we**


Memories, may be sating now and yet

What's chewed but doesn't hit the spot we simply choose to reject

So it's the complementary flavours we remember

Whenever we remember the snacks we ate


The snacks we ate

* With bird's eye chillies and ketchup.
** Yes, yes, of course, as soon as the grill is fixed.



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Day 509, Power Swim

Deep water is no obstacle, humans float.

And bathing isn't what we're here for, that's too passive.

We're going to burn through some Ergs.

Force through the water with intensity

Keep pushing to your VO2 Max.

Force past the pain, build oxygen debt.

You can keep going, ignore the pain.

And when you've reached the other side just beach yourself on the reservoir slope.

Remain until you have recovered the energy to run away from the approaching Water Authority representative.

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Day 508, One Hundred and, oh

Like the rays of light from the smallest supermassive inverse black hole.

Like the moment before your head is sliced off by the approaching turboprop.

Like peering up through the plughole when falling in the sink after supping the bottle labelled 'Drink Me'.

Three things very similar to the middle of a dartboard after scoring nothing with all darts.

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Day 507, Pigeon toed

While walking uphill there was Esmerelda the wood pigeon, perched on a bird feeder, beak in the seed.

Spotting my approach Esmerelda feigned nonchalance and indifference to the feed container.

As I put my phone camera away the bird again beaked into the feast.

The dance of phone out, beak out, phone in, beak in continued for a brief time.

I winked at Esmerelda, bid the bird good eating, and carried on my way.

Some days it just isn't possible to outwit a bird with a brain no larger than my big toe.

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Day 506, Window reliability times 10

December 2015.

The time had come to dip into Windows 10 by installing it on my new work PC.

Windows 7 had been reliable and had done what I asked of it for years*.  It has been the most reliable version of Windows that I've used.  But as applications stop being supported, features gradually appear which are only run on the new version of the Operating System (OS), and people start to ask questions about how to connect Windows 10 to various services.

And so your hand is forced to make the move to the new OS.

Windows 10 duly installed, and the awful interface with those buttons presuming to know what is best for my business subsequently removed, let's start using it.

For some reason it isn't always possible to make a Remote Desktop connection to the machine.  It's fine when trying at work, then later from home it fails, some network related thing probably.  But the next day it doesn't work when trying at work.  Ok, so it is working then at some unspecified point later on it fails.  Oh well, bit busy at the moment so that can be looked at later, I'll continue to connect remotely to the Win 7 machine which is still active.

January 2016.

Still on the foothills of usage, I've mainly been using the search feature to find applications, for some reason the 'Start' button doesn't list all the ones installed.

The search feature then stops working.

A web search reveals lots of people having the same problem.  None of the solutions works but a restart of the machine removes the problem for the time being.  Not ideal but this will have to be looked at later as there is other stuff that needs attending to.

February 2016.

A continuation of the above niggles but most of the time my usage of the machine is so limited that it isn't a problem, they can be looked at when there's time.  The Win 7 machine is still getting some use.

March 2016.

Oh for goodness sake what now?  Windows 10 is telling me that Cortana has stopped and would I like to log out.  Well no not really as I'm in the middle of something.  It's going to have to get looked at now.

Cortana appears to have been causing lots of problems for people, the web is awash with grumbles about various failings, the search button not working and corrupt files.  Ok, let's check for corrupt files.

Run up System File Checker from a command prompt with Administrator privileges.

sfc /scannow

Windows Resource Protection found corrupt files but was unable to fix some of them.

Oh good, corrupt files.

Run up System File Checker from a command prompt with Administrator privileges.

A quick web search and these suggestions appeared and so I tried them:

dism /Online /Cleanup-Image /RestoreHealth

That didn't work, try the next one.

Dism.exe /online /Cleanup-Image /StartComponentCleanup
sfc /scannow
Dism /Online /Cleanup-Image /RestoreHealth
sfc /scannow

That didn't work either, which should have been obvious as the first System File Checker there still showed corruption.  So I mounted the Windows 10 ISO, the disk image of the install DVD and pointed the command to that and the 'sources' folder on it.

From here on all the commands do as expected.

dism /Online /Cleanup-Image /RestoreHealth /Source:WIM:F:\sources\install.wim:1 /limitaccess

Progress, that part was a success.

And then run the System File Checker again.

sfc /scannow

Windows Resource Protection found corrupt files and successfully repaired them.

Double success.

Let's see if that has fixed the problems - more problems in 3 months of Windows 10 than in 6 years of Windows 7.

My Mac has been completely stable, but then that doesn't run all the applications I need.

Tsk, operating systems huh?


* Look, here's a blog from the Windows 7 install, almost exactly 6 years ago.


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