Day 592, In town tonight

Make your way toward Barker's Pool.  Don't tell me you can't find it it's been know by that name since around 1570, and no that isn't ten past four.*

You are now well poised to take a dip in any of the water features.  These water features were installed to provide washing facilities for those within the City bounds to whom access to a bath was not possible.  It is not unusual to see, often on a Friday or Saturday evening, the foaming water from where someone has availed themselves of the opportunity for a wash and used slightly too much bubble bath while they were at it.

The tall structure to the right is actually a loofah holder.

What incredible wonders, right here on our doorstep.

It is a pity about the lack of towels though.**

* Variations of this joke construction have been told by anyone from Basil Brush to, er, many people that don't have a hand operating them.
** Always know where your towel is.

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Day 591, Still, life.

Exploded bedroom event.

Flora.

Fauna.

Tractor paper.

Puncture.

Where is the clarity.

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Day 590, It's the Farfield Inn

Dating from a time even before telegraph, it's the Farfield Inn.*  Built in 1753 this Grade II listed building is on Neepsend Lane in Sheffield.

The Farfield Inn survived the Great Sheffield Flood of 1864.  The Dale Dyke Dam near Low Bradfield collapsed and flood waters killed 238 people and over 700 animals.  The pub though survived.

The 2007 floods however haven't been so kind to the building.  Or perhaps it is our modern insistence on making things clean and replacing plaster work, a sort of health and safety issue that has caused some delay in reopening, whatever, the pub is still closed here in 2016 almost ten years later.**

If you've never been in the pub then you have missed a treat.***  A jukebox with the records in the wrong way round, yes they were real 45 RPM vinyl singles, so the B-side played as the A-side etc.  A customer base, if anyone was in (there often wasn't), that was slightly more oddball than found in pubs less off the beaten track.  And a general level of dishevelment that implied you weren't in some funky up-town joint, there was no chance of being served a cocktail of any sort, which is actually a good thing.  I'm almost certain the beer lines had tadpoles living in them, but that was probably just me.****

I expect there'll be a few more floods before this building ever reopens to the public.  If it doesn't mysteriously catch fire four or five times first.  Although the chances of mysterious fire are probably not too high - everyone knows that listed buildings occupying prime building land are much more flammable and likely to 'accidentally' burst into flames and this isn't prime building land.*****

* There's a proper telegraph pole there on the left.
** I have no problem with health and safety, I'm guessing it is too costly for such a large building and the tiny number of customers it attracts.
*** Not really.
**** The Howard in the city centre definitely did used to have 'residue' in the beer lines, and for a busy and popular pub that is inexcusable.
***** Is anyone particularly perturbed by there being two spaces after a full stop and before the next sentence?

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Day 589, Uptime top ranking

This isn't a record, not by quite some distance, but 1200 days was a reasonable amount of time.  The only reason the server was restarted was because it had to be physically moved.

A physical server, now there's a novelty.

Now most of our servers move on their own, unless prompted by a few mouse clicks.

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Day 588, Office world

This image should need no explanation.  Anyone that has ever worked in an office will recognise it.  Although it occurs to me that there might be one or two people that have never worked in an office, so for them I will explain.

This picture features a hand shadow of a large dog about to eat a large-headed boy, or girl, or person of indeterminate sex.*  I'm certain every office has one of these.**  Every office I've ever been in has had one.***

* The sex of the doll is not relevant, stop going on about it.  In fact how can a doll even have a sex, it's just a collection of plastics moulded into a shape that we have assigned human characteristics to due to indoctrination from an early age.  Or something.
** Only me?
*** The hand is that of a colleague skilled in the art of hand-shadow theatre and is available for hire.

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Day 587, The fantastically expressive forehead of Monty Don

Monty is a chap who appears relaxed and at ease in the surroundings of his garden, Longmeadow, when he is presenting Gardeners’ World.*  He has space, many sheds, and an endless supply of all manner of different types of compost, it is idyllic.  This week however I noticed something that I’m surprised to have not noticed before, how incredibly expressive Monty’s forehead can become.

It was during another programme where Monty was away from his own garden, he was presenting at the Chelsea Flower show, where the expressiveness became apparent.  While looking at the show-gardens there was a moment where the normally gently rippling horizontal lines above his eyes, which run almost from ear to ear across the expanse of his forehead, suddenly became vertical and contained within an area of a width of 5 centimetres directly above his nose.

Monty was expressing a small amount of criticism about the planting arrangement and other structures in one particular garden.  His language was as usual measured, there was a slight increase in the passion of his delivery, but the forehead told the full story.  The usually mild mannered, if sometimes intense Monty, was by the evidence above clearly apoplectic.  For an instant I had visions of sledgehammer wielding demolition, and bonfires of substandard grasses.

I imagined the Briza media was quaking at his feet.**

The moment passed and Monty returned to being his usual avuncular self, and even offered explanation and understanding for why the garden was as it was.  The forehead had returned to displaying the dancing horizontal lines of static from a 1970s TV tuned between channels, and all was well.

Monty forehead, with compost and gardening wound

* Gardeners' World.
** A type of grass.


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Day 586, Where's the post?

Scoping out the Post Office in advance of sending off ebay items I discover the Post Office has gone.  Not physically gone, the building is still evident, but the activity that took place there is no longer happening.  There's no sign to indicate what has taken place to cause this change, and neither was there information to say where it had gone.

Google helped though.  There was a Twitter user with a history of 15 tweets, a handful of followers and following, and a photo of a Post Office sign with the correct name now hidden in the back of a paper shop.

I've no idea why this move has taken place, but I'm going to pin it on privatisation as that is a handy hobby-horse.*

In other postal news the actual Royal Mail (if it is still called that) delivery hasn't yet arrived, and it is approaching 4.45 in the afternoon.†  Privatisation again, fewer deliveries and a larger amount of post for each operative to deliver.  Probably.

In further postal news a competitor of the Royal Mail managed to deliver a 'sorry you were out' card to someone else's house.  At least the email telling me I was out went to the right address.  Their website helpfully had a phone number to contact them in the event of any enquiry.  This phone number also helpfully only had an automated menu with no option to speak to anyone, and there was no option for "you are a bunch of clowns, please try again but this time with the correct address."**  Eventually it was possible to subvert their automated customer avoidance system, but only again after using Google - and also by having prior knowledge that their delivery depot was in Rotherham.  This enabled me to make a more effective search for a telephone number, and this number lead to a real human being.  A brief conversation, a laugh, a joke, a court case, and the driver returned with the item I wasn't expecting.

This story would be complete if I could add that I hadn't ordered the surgical support from the thoroughbred stallion which recently competed at Doncaster's Town Moor racecourse, the home of the St Leger, and that some unknown person is going to be very disappointed.***

ebay item

* Isn't it donkeys that normally get things pinned on them?  Maybe this should be sitting on the hobby-horse.
** Strictly speaking this is the owners of the company that are a bunch of clowns, it would be unfair to apportion this accolade to the employees who are probably being screwed by management in some way.
***  But that isn't true.
† The post arrived at 5.50pm.

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Day 585, Common room discount deals

Free for anyone.

And that's no surprise, it's bloody disgusting.*

* Actually I have no idea what it tastes like, I'm pre-judging it and the reason for it being free, it may actually be very lovely.


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Day 584, Hell yeah, I'm a cat

Hello, I'm too busy to talk right now as I'm scoping out stuff to stalk in the undergrowth.

If you can leave your scent mark after the tone I might give it a sniff if I choose to get round to it later.

Hell yeah, I am a cat.

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Day 583, Landing stage

Protruding from the lunar-like surface there is a landing stage.  Boats blown in from the Atlantic take a breather before bobbing down the coast to less isolated, better equipped harbours.  No frills here, just rocks, used tyres, and cars with only three wheels that aren't Reliant Robins.*

Lewis and Harris, not your glamorous destination such as Monaco, Saint-Tropez or Penzance, has the distinction of being a small time producer of chess pieces.  Chess pieces made from walrus ivory, whales teeth, and the ossified remnants of misplaced American tourists.  Historically these pieces have made their way to less troubled rivieras, but at great expense. 

It is no wonder then that there are other, less-accidental visitors.  Chess aficionados and grandmasters often make pilgrimage here, many come with the hope of unearthing more chess reliquary.  This desire can lead them from the more well worn tourist route, and into scrub and moorland where carnivorous duck await.  The chess geek** unknowingly taking part in a co-evolutionary process which has helped the duck move from 'critically endangered' on the IUCN Red List to a new status of 'slightly threatening'.

There are brief periods where the carni-duck are less of a hazard to humans, when with their young and in the water.  At moments such as these it is possible to approach, albeit with caution.  But on no account attempt to feed or touch them, and never, under any circumstances let them see you turn your back.

Projecting from the rocky hillside there is a landing stage.  Those blown in from the Atlantic may take a breath here before moving on to less troubled water.  No frills, just rocks, used tyres, and the icy beak of death.

* There are many apparently abandoned cars on the roadside, often with one corner propped up on bricks.
** The plural form is 'geek', like sheep.

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Day 582, Out of our depth

The vicious upland beasts of the Outer Hebrides require wariness if approached.  The biting weather, the freezing midges, the incessant cèilidh dances can wear a creature down.  And it is at those moments that there is the greatest vulnerability.

Witness this hillside.  Littered with the bones of the unprepared.  Thousands of years of bones, layer upon layer, grinding beneath the steps of those that stray from the more well trodden scrub.  We didn't approach.  Only by skilled use of a long lens, night vision equipment, and cattle prods, were we able to capture this scene moments before the bloodbath.

And then, having caused unspeakable carnage, the rubber duck sank back beneath the Loch to return to the subterranean charnel house it calls home.

Sickening.

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Day 581, On the level

Feeling sore?

Got hammered last night?

Let me level with you.

This is a selection of cheap puns assembled for the purposes of space filling.*

 * The usual contributor is away.

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Day 580, Stop eating, exercise is rubbish

In just over 2 weeks I’ve lost 2.9 kilos. So what you might say, Howard Marks lost many more kilos in his career. Noooo, I'm talking about my flabby waist not his wasted stash.

This loss has happened after these lifestyle changes: Making my daily sandwich from one slice of wholemeal bread, not two. By reducing the amount of cheese on the sandwich. Not using cheese on my cooking days (Mon-Thurs evenings.) Reducing the amount of sugar in tea to under a level teaspoon.

2.9 kg is ~6.4lb in old money, that’s not too far off half a stone.

It also makes you hungry. Pretty hungry.

I've also marginally upped the amount of exercise, but only very slightly. It’s usually at this point that some sort of ailment crops up which prevents use of the turbo trainer, or the ability to jump around. Then there's the supermarket order and delivery which brings all sorts of crap. Crispy things.

And crispy things mean there's a high likelihood of sitting down in front of Strictly Cash in the Pointless Escape to the Celebrity Hunt Challenge and consuming an entire tube of sour cream and chive Pringles in one twenty minute sitting - don’t tell me you haven’t done that - oh, you haven’t, well maybe it was thirty minutes, surely you've done that, surely, haven’t you?  Well anyway something like that will happen and at that point the weight chart will go in the other direction.

Mind you there's probably no reason for real excitement, 2.9 kg is only one thirty second of the total body weight. But it does suggest one thing. Exercise is not the whole answer.

Oh look, it's levelled off...


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Day 579, Drink up, the world's about to end

When the day arrives when the answer is driver-less cars and the Tories claim to be helping the least well off in society then something has gone rather wrong.  If anyone could mistake what Cameron and chums are doing for the worst-off as beneficial social reform then I suggest an appointment with an appropriate adult.  And so this is my one-sided take-home from the Queen’s speech, not having heard it.

Driver-less cars appear to be a great thing, who wouldn't want to be driven home from the pub by one because you’re too pissed to take out the other two driver-less cars parked outside your own house.

The car, the single most environmentally unfriendly and polluting object a person could own (and you can quote me on that as it is almost certainly a fact), is an abomination.  A colossal piece of useless metal, plastic and corrosive liquid.  Sitting doing nothing except depreciating for almost every hour of every day, mostly only used to fetch some compost from the garden centre or to pick up some milk from the corner shop as “it’s raining so I went in the car.” - apart from on the few occasions when it isn't...

Back in the 18th century (the 1960’s actually) when I was growing up, on the half mile long street where I lived there was one car, a single, solitary car.  Barely anyone could afford one.  That street has long gone, as no doubt has that car, but if the street still existed there wouldn't be space between the cars parked along its length to slide a garage receipt between the back to back bumpers.  And if the car still exists it will be worth bugger all, only slightly more than the landfill it probably occupies.

When the sea level rises due to climate change all that will be left will be a rusting mountain of vehicles from where the humans desperately tried to park higher and higher as the water rose. All driver-less.  Such is our love or the motor vehicle, we are happy to let the planet go to ruin rather than give up our little metal gods.

Here’s some soy sauce.  Drink up, the world’s about to end.

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Day 578, Screw this for depth of field

It is what it is.

And what it is is a bit crap.

Here we see some everyday detritus which has built up in the desk area.

Interesting that one of the items is part of a vacuum cleaner, which would actually be useful here, and is not detritus.

Although neither are the screws, the writing implements, or the PSU, detritus...*

* Tails away and drifts off to sleep due to the shallow nature.


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Day 577, Is that the time?

The complete opposite of darkness at noon, here we have dull day at midnight.

Imprisoned only briefly in a meeting room, no solitary confinement.

Just a discussion of the configuration of OLAP, and no suggestion that anyone would be executed.*

But I expect the levels of excitement between the two situations would be similar.

Prolonged periods of boredom, frustration, and ennui, followed by surprising release into the world.

No, not even slightly the same.

Oh look, a new clock where there used to be something else that has been edited out.

Is that the time?

* Tried to find an IT acronym which would fit POUM, and failed.


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Day 576, Heroes in a half pint

Innovation, passion, knowledge?  Why is this the message given when having booze.

It's all a little over the top, the drink should speak for itself.

Fortunately it does, after all, who doesn't like Jaipur.*

I don't need to know about the innovation, the passion, the knowledge, as long as the drink is good.

Save the sloganeering.

Heroes in a half pint.**

* There might be the odd person...
** Oops, did it myself - I know, it doesn't really mean anything unless brewed by small Mutant Ninjas.


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Day 575, It's kaos

No not the fifth horseman of the apocralyptic riders, that would be Kaos.*  No, this is just the non-standard spelling of chaos.

And this desk contains a non-standard selection of items.  There's a soldering iron, a circuit board for powering an extractor fan, an Open University philosophy DVD, a pouch containing lock-picks (or is it dental tools they're both here somewhere), a copy of Private Eye, and various random bits of paper and tat.  The desk needs tidying.

There is also a layer of masonry dust as a result of reinforcing the shelving directly above.

Good.  This means that things can be put on the shelf.  And then the grand master plan of reorganising can take place, the room will be suddenly spacious, capacious, and fully functional for the purposes of tap dancing, music playing and raving.

Well, maybe there'll also be room to be productive.  Which will be great.

And chaos will be vanquished, or do I mean Kaos?  Who knows what lurks underneath some of this crap, it could be those horsemen.**

* This character.
** Or it could be Ronnie Soak, but not both.


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Day 574, Mega store, mega price

In need of some 4mm by 50mm screws?  Or in need of pretty much any size of standard screw?

Well get yo ass down to a hardware shop, no not that big Mega-Barn thing but one of those shops that have things propped up or hanging outside.  Things like doors, beading, and other stuff the names of which escape me but you know, hardewarey, diy-ey, woody stuff.

Don't be intimidated by not really knowing what it is you need, just ask, wave your arms even, describe what your requirements are.  For example, "I wish to attach a piece of wood of this size and shape to a wall,"  this is a good enough starting point if you are clueless - change the words to suit what it is you are doing.  Obviously, you don't want to say the previous words if you wish to fix a structural item for supporting heavy stuff such as a bed, you'd might need Hilti bolts for that rather than screws - Hilti bolts might work but they are overkill.*

Why not just go to the Mega-Barn thing then?  Because you will pay through the nose.  You will pay anything from two to five times the price per unit, and you will get the screws in a sealed plastic bag containing 20 or 25 items.  Whereas a cardboard box of 200 can be acquired for £4.60 as below, or less if you happen to know of an even more economic outlet.  You'll empty your plastic bag and it will be with us for years, but your cardboard box is more simple to recycle.**

"But I don't want 200 screws."

Well that suggests a number of things, a lack of ambition, failure to plan ahead, a lack of storage space.

Are you never going to need to fix two items together by this method ever again?  If so then why are you bothering to do it now, why not get a DIY handy-person in to do it and pay them, let's face it you're only going to pay over the odds for the bits and then make a mess of it.***  Let someone skilled do it properly and they can have the benefit of the cash rather than the owners of the mega-barn. 

"But really, I don't need 200 screws."

Look, they aren't like vegetables, they aren't going to go off, not unless you bury them in the garden, which is sort of like the opposite of vegetables.  They will last years, put them in the place you keep the two types of screwdriver you have and the spare fuse wire.  Throw out the fuse wire and get your mains consumer unit replaced to support trip switches.  And when you need some sort of fixing application there might be a vague chance that the screws you have are of the right type.****

So that's my top quality advice on what to do if you need some 4mm by 50mm screws or pretty much any size of standard screw.*****

* Hilti bolts, or more properly, expansion anchors for concrete or masonry - you can put 'em in but can you fuck get 'em out. (actually I've managed to get them out, but I am very determined.)
** Time was when there were hardware shops that would sell screws, nails, etc, by weight, they'd weigh them out into brown paper bags. 
*** Be honest, if you are only going to buy one plastic bag of screws in your lifetime it will be the wrong ones, and you'll cock the task up.
**** They won't be, but you can buy the right type, in a box, and store them next to the others.  That way they won't get lonely.
***** There is no such thing as a standard screw size, there are bloody loads of sizes.  However, careful selection of a few types will cover most applications.

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Day 573, Static cycling

You too can expend a massive amount of energy by not going anywhere.

Yes, that's right, not going anywhere.

Fast.

Well not so fast actually, other than the legs.

The legs go fast, round and round.

What an idiot.

No that's not right, this is for fitness purposes which is surely a good thing.

And the celery, the endless celery, bulking up the main meals.

I do like celery but really, there is only so much celery a person can eat.

And apparently one celery stick is as bad for you as six cigarettes.

But who would eat six cigarettes, and where does this information come from.*

Is that six Park Drive, or Capstan Full Strength, or a pack of Marlboro Menthol, or whatever the fashionable fag du jour is.

I can't imagine that eating six e-cigarettes is that good for you either.

This has all gone wrong.

Static cycling, it raises the heart rate, it exercises the legs, it gets a person out of breath.

And these things are all good for you - unless they aren't.

So get on your bike and pedal off into the same place, unless it's bad for you personally, then don't do it.**

* Maybe I should be smoking the celery?
** My knees hurt, I may have overdone it.


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Day 572, Lines, lines, more lines, the tower

In the quest for ever more obscure rectilinear spaces here we have one less obscure.*

There are landscape windows commanding magnificent views of the surrounding grounds.

There are pillars, supports of the great edifice, the one true tower.

And there's more of this linear stuff, it's the parquet floor.

No triangles, lozenges or herringbone here, oh no, it's a very simple rectangular design.  

A design done purposefully to represent the organised and directed nature of the tower and the association with other activities on this floor.

If you want to know more about the great history of parquetry, why not visit the library, it's only over there.

Unless of course you want a public library, then tough tit proles the Tories aren't keen on that shit.**

* What a cop out.
** Honestly, some people will shoehorn this stuff in anywhere.

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Day 571, Pirates ahoy

Hard to see as usual, that's how they sneak up on you and steal your booty, there are some pirates in view.

Even once spotted it won't be clear that they are wearing traditional pirate costume.

This ability to blend into the background and be unrecognisable is almost certainly due to some form of mind-control and ability at misdirection on their part.

It had me fooled.

It was nothing to do with it being dark, an inability to hold still, and the quantity of beer consumed rendering phone camera operation too complex.

None of that.

I'm pretty sure they were dressed as pirates.

One of them also had a parrot on his head.  Or was it tinsel?

Anyway, it was definitely night time, the pirating hour.

Er...

Er...

They definitely weren't students.

Almost certainly not.

They wouldn't be up at that time would they, not in the period leading up to exams, definitely not boozing and carousing and dressed as pirates.

Oh.

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Day 570, The crane over the house

I read The Wheel on the School sometime back in the last century, possibly the early 1970s.  The story is about a group of school children who aim to attract storks to their village by putting a cart wheel on the school roof to provide them a nesting place.

Through cooperation and determination the children achieve their aim.

Below is a local, and successful, attempt to attract cranes to nest on a house in Sheffield - proving that even fully grown adults can achieve their goals sometimes if they put their minds to it.*

* This last paragraph to be read in the style of David Mitchell (the comedian, not the author.)

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Day 569, TEDz talk, secrets of a top CEO, for bears

I’m here today to talk to you about success.

That's right, success. And the steps you need to take to be a top operator in the world of business.

Imagine a world where that success could be yours.

What if I were to tell you that that world is closer than you could possibly imagine.

Now I'm nothing special. In fact I may come across as completely wooden - but that’s because I am! (cue laughter from the fourth bear from the left on the front row)

But seriously...  I am wooden.

I’ve had to live with that. But, from an early age I knew it wasn’t going to hold me back.  I took my lead from the top CEOs I’d heard about, right from when I was still only a sapling.  The top CEOs didn’t let being wooden hold them back.

And they didn’t let being psychopathic manipulative control freaking shit-weazles hold them back either.

No.

They utilised that power for being an unpleasant clack-fondler for their own ends.

And oh boy did that pay off.  And big time.

I have spent a lot of time not researching this subject. And I have spent an enormous amount of time over and above that making even more of my hard earned apparent knowledge up.

And you know what... It shows.

Because of that time I haven’t spent I thought I would share some of that ignorance with you.

Those top CEOs are very successful.

You know…  Success is a funny thing. People measure success in all sorts of ways.  I have chosen to measure success by how much money these CEOs have managed to make. It is the obvious, and only, metric. And I have measured their success by how much money they have managed to keep hold of even in the face of unspeakable claims made against them by redundant employees, rinsed pension funds, and overly curious tax inspectors.

Many of these successful CEOs get up at 4:30 am.

Many even more successful CEOs hardly sleep at all, which surprises me immensely given their complete lack of conscience... Which is a good thing.

Other successful CEOs read a book every single day.

That book is “How to be a Complete Shiz-smearer and Earn Admiration and Respect from Scum as you Grind Their Faces in the Dirt” - it is a classic read filled with essential CEO advice. Advice such as how to step on fingers while ascending the ladder, how to double deal, and how to undermine any threat from other prospective uber-CEO material allowing them to take the credit for deficiencies.

Many other successful CEOs are just intolerable bullies.  But hey, if it works don’t knock it.

Eventually I myself made it to the position of top successful CEO at many of my own short-lived businesses.

I gained what I believed was respect.  Certainly that’s how I interpreted it.  Respect from people that feared what I could do to them at a moment's notice with no opportunity for reprisal or appeal for unfair dismissal.

That respect was deserved.

And that respect has made me press on, continuing to build my portfolio of cash.

But there are downsides.

We all have to accept failure.  It is, after all, how we learn.

I have failed many times. Yes, I know, that surprises you doesn't it?

And when those moments of failure arrive I have learned to always make sure to have all my cash safely offshore before the final closing moment arrives.  It is also a valuable lesson I taught my employees and creditors, and in my generosity I did not charge them for it, which was only fair as they didn’t have anything left to give.

I shared my failure with them - I am not saying I am a generous person, but that is the obvious explanation - and if they had any sense they would learn from it.

So that's why you see me here today. Successful, measured by any evaluation which respects cash acquisition as the true arbiter.

Which leads me on to some final words, which I am not yet going to charge for.

What is the take home message?

The message underpinning this is, no matter how wooden you might be, always be flexible and swift to mobilise any assets. Always plan ahead by having all funds liquid and in someone else's name, preferably in some sunny location such as Monaco. And always, always be sure to give the credit for shortcomings to those at the bottom of the ladder.

That’s my story of success in the world of business, now let that be a lesson to you.

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Day 568, Furry articles

Cats aren't generally known for their friendship with other cats, this pair however seem to get along splendidly.  Neighbour cats from different homes, they meet up and bound around with each other like kittens.

They follow each other all over and can often be seen together in places all around their local territory.

Here they are having a kip in our long grass.

Top quality mobile phone image of cats

It's now not possible to cut the grass as it will remove their resting spots.

That's my excuse at least.




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Day 566, Minus 1 Plus 2

Two for the price of one, get your lime mortar here.

Ask yourself, "do I need lime mortar?"

You might not think you do but a cursory look around me now and I can see three applications.  Perhaps you can see some near you.

There's the fireback, if you have a wood burner or a traditional coal fire the flue almost certainly was built using lime mortar.  It stands up well to heat.

There's the garden wall.  You could use any mortar for this but lime mortar has characteristics of porosity and flexibility which make it suitable when building with softer materials such as natural stone.

There are the general properties of freeze-thaw resistance and water retention that are useful for other applications.  Ok, this isn't an explicit application as advertised above but hey, I'm not an expert, if you want in-depth lime mortar knowledge you need to look elsewhere.

And here is the source, number 1 in lime mortars.  Twice.

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