Wednesday, 7 January 2015

Day 82, physical data destruction


Not having the wherewithal of a Google to destroy old hard disks then us mere mortals have to resort to more fundamental methods.  Previously having used a pickaxe to mash-up a hard disk beyond re-use, on this occasion I have taken a less physically demanding or hazardous approach.


The smallest Torx screwdriver I had available was enough to reduce the disk to this level of component decomposition.




Then using some leverage, applied by the not entirely appropriate use of a couple of flat-blade screwdrivers, and the application of some abrasion to the surface of the platters, we have this.




The platters are now in the shape of a butterfly bun, or more trendily, a cup cake.

If anyone can recover the data from these disks then they can have it, it absolutely won't be worth it.  And if they have the technology to recover any data from this disk then I'm pretty sure they have the technology to retrieve data from my internet connection, or tap and record the micro-radio transmissions from each key-press on my keyboard, or bug my optic nerves.

So good luck.


I would have linked to the Google disk crush video but it appears to have been removed.









Tuesday, 6 January 2015

Day 81, resolution difference between scanned print and negative



At some point in the past I scanned some of my old prints.  I recently started scanning the negatives of ones that hadn't already been done.  The negatives haven't been touched since the time the photographs were returned from printing.  It's interesting to see how much degradation of the negatives has taken place even though they haven't been removed from the sleeves.  I can only assume that the conditions they have been kept in have caused them to adhere to each other and lose some parts of the pigment, and perhaps during the numerous moves they have rubbed against each other and become scratched.  It might have been useful to gently warm them in a humid atmosphere before removing them from the packets, that could have prevented further damage that might have occurred.

I thought it would be worthwhile to see the difference in quality between using a flatbed scanner on the prints was more ideal than using a negative scanner.


This is a scan of a print using a pretty cheap flatbed scanner.  Original scanned size 1725x1168.



And this is a close up of Kelvin Flats seen in the image at the original size within the image.  Size 328x141.




This is the same photograph but the scan is of the negative.  A much greater DPI than it needed.  This image is 9995x6748.



And here is the same close-up of Kelvin Flats, but here it is reduced in size - the negative was scanned at higher DPI than the flatbed scan.  Size 1657x752



I'm not convinced there's a huge amount of difference here.  Perhaps there's a little more detail from the negative but it's very clear that the quality is much lower given the number of specks and scratches.

Maybe scanning the negative at a lower DPI than the print and having a better quality negative might help.

Maybe scanning the negatives 25 years ago would have helped even more.  Obviously out of the question.  Now where did I put my time machine.































Monday, 5 January 2015

Day 80, good morning star shine



Walking into work and looking over the city I can't see any stars.



That'll be the cloud cover obscuring them.  Or being more pretentious and opaque, the stars were obnubilated. But usually it's best just to be as clear as possible.

So how likely am I to be singing these words?

Gliddy glub gloopy nibby nabby noopy
La la la, lo lo
Sabba sibbi sabba nooby aba naba
Lee lee, lo lo
Tooby ooby wala
Nooby aba naba



Not that likely.

Sometimes it feels like those are the sounds coming out of my head though.  Obviously I need to express myself more clearly. Rather like the people that call radio phone-in programmes and punctuate their sentences with "know what I mean?" when not actually saying anything of any substance.


On that note, let down your hair, take off your clothes, and dance down the road singing this:



On second thoughts, perhaps best not to leave the warmth and safety of your own home when doing that.







Sunday, 4 January 2015

Day 79, a Sioux Indian in Sheffield



Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show toured Great Britain in the late 19th and early 20th century.
The tour visited Sheffield in 1891.

There have always been rumours that two of the Sioux Indian entourage had died during this visit and were buried in Sheffield. Apparently they had died of flu.  It was believed that they were buried in Wardsend Cemetery, close to the Owlerton site where the show had performed.  It was also suggested that both the deceased had been repatriated at some time in the past.

As it turns out one of the Sioux Indians did die in Sheffield Infirmary as a result of contracting tetanus after sustaining injuries during a performance.  He was buried in a London cemetery and then subsequently, in 1999, was exhumed and take back to his home country.  Not quite the story that had passed into folklore.



The Sheffield Telegraph at the time listed an obituary with the words:

BILL EAGLE STAR of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, after an injury at Owlerton 24 Aug 1891


An obituary of Paul Eagle Star from The New York Times.



A more full description of events was given in The Sheffield & Rotherham Independent.


Sheffield & Rotherham Independent,


26th August 1891


THE DEATH OF “EAGLE STAR” IN SHEFFIELD.


INQUEST AT THE INFIRMARY


Never since the Sheffield Infirmary was instituted has there been witnessed in its board room such a unique spectacle as was seen there yesterday, when in the presence of four Sioux Indian chiefs, the inquest on the body of Paul “Eagle Star” was held by Mr. Wightman. It will be remembered that the accident which caused the death of the deceased occurred a week ago last Friday while he was taking part in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show at Owlerton, and that his death took place on Monday, amputation of the right leg having been performed on the previous Saturday. While he was an inmate of the Infirmary he was visited several times by Colonel Cody, and when the illness took a serious turn Mr. G. C. Crager, who has charge of the Indians, was sent to Sheffield with instructions to “spare no expense, secure the best care, and save his life.” After he arrived in Sheffield telegrams came at frequent intervals from Colonel Cody and Mr. Salsbury, inquiring for news of “Eagle Star’s” condition. On Monday morning it was apparent that the end was near, and he asked Mr. Crager, who was at his bedside, to give him his hand. Shaking it feebly he said “Jesus, Jesus,” and died. Mr. Crager then returned to Nottingham, and found the camp in a condition of gloomy depression at the news that had been received. The squaws and other Indians were walking among the wigwams chanting a requiem for their dead comrade. Colonel Cody, Major Burke, and many members of the company were also much affected.


At the inquest yesterday there were present, arrayed in their brightly coloured native garments and trinkets, Chief Kicking Bear, Chief Black Heart, Chief Lone Bull, and Bull Stands Behind. The last named is a cousin of the deceased, and as an indication that he was mourning for some one dead he wore round his head a band of white silk. He is a tall young man with a singularly graceful form, and upon his face is an expression of refinement and womanlike tenderness in strong contrast to the rugged and dogged virility displayed in the smeared countenances of the Indian chiefs who sat by his side. When he saw the dead body of his cousin Bull Stands Behind burst into tears, but was eventually consoled somewhat by one of the other chiefs, who told him with what exceeding kindness the deceased had been treated at the Infirmary. Throughout the inquiry the four Indians maintained their accustomed stolidity, the only time when they showed more than ordinary interest in the proceedings being when the members of the jury were sworn and kissed the testaments. Probably the ceremony puzzled them as much as some of their ceremonies puzzle the white people. They were accompanied by Major Burke, the general manager for the Buffalo Bill Wild West Company; Mr. William Laugan (sic), supply agent; Mr. George C. Crager, Sioux interpreter, who has charge of the Indians; and John Shangren, a native interpreter. Mr. B. Folsom, United States Consul, at Sheffield, also attended.


Mr. G. C. Crager identified the body, and said he had known the deceased about six months. The deceased, who was 25 years of age, was a Sioux Indian, and came from America with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. He was a healthy man, and had been with the company about five months. He (witness) did not see the accident occur, but he saw the deceased immediately afterwards, and the latter was brought to the Infirmary within an hour afterwards. The accident happened while the deceased was riding a horse out of the arena. He had ridden the horse daily for a considerable time. The horse slid with all his four feet out, and then fell, and slid on its belly. The deceased’s right foot was under the horse’s belly, and his right ankle was dislocated. This was the explanation given by the deceased, who did not blame any one.


Mr. Hugh Rhodes, house surgeon at the Infirmary, said he was present when the deceased was admitted. He was suffering from a compound dislocation of the right ankle, which had been reduced when he came. He remained at the Infirmary, and it was decided to amputate the foot a week and a day after his admission. This course was taken because lock-jaw had set in. Up to that time he had improved, and it was thought he would recover. The amputation was well performed and with the deceased’s sanction, but the lock-jaw became worse, and he died on Monday.


Mr. Folsom, upon being asked whether he had any questions to put, replied that he had not, and remarked that at the time it happened the accident was not considered to be a serious one. He was satisfied the affair was purely an accident.


Mr. Crager stated that the treatment the deceased had received had been perfectly satisfactory. Wherever he went he would always think of the Sheffield Infirmary with feelings of intense gratefulness. The manner in which the surgeons, nurses, and all connected with the institution had cared for a stranger and a foreigner had so impressed him that his command of words entirely failed him in his efforts to give expressions to his feelings. The deceased was a favourite in the camp, and the news of his death had made Colonel Cody ill. The latter would have attended the inquest if he had been able.


The Coroner said that in Sheffield they were proud of the Infirmary, and he was pleased to hear its excellence had been appreciated.


Mr. Folsom replied that he was quite satisfied with the kindness displayed to the deceased at the Infirmary, and with the medical treatment he had received.


The jury, without hesitation, returned a verdict of “Accidental death.”


After the inquest, in a conversation with one of our representatives, Mr. Crager grew most enthusiastic in his acknowledgement of the treatment the deceased had received at the Infirmary, where, he said, he could not have received more attention had he been a king. The doctors and nurses spared no pains in ministering to his comfort, and thought nothing of leaving their beds in the middle of the night to grapple with any symptom that threatened him with suffering. He spoke of the generosity and courtesy with which he himself had been treated in Sheffield by all with whom he had come in contact. He had travelled in all sorts of countries, and had mixed with almost all grades of society, but in Sheffield he had received kindness which had quite taken him aback, and which he previously thought did not exist in this world. He intimated that a bust and pedestal of Colonel Cody in white marble and ebony was being made at Munich, and that Colonel Cody intended to present it to the staff at the Infirmary.

Immediately after the inquest the body was conveyed by Messrs. Tomlinson and Sons to the Midland Railway Station, the Indians and others connected with the show following in carriages. The funeral party was met by Mr. Wheen, the station master, and the coffin containing the body was taken from the hearse and placed in a van specially engaged for the purpose. The presence of the Indian chiefs on the platform excited much interest amongst the people at the station, but as it was not generally known they were going to be there, no crowding took place. All the members of the party took their seats in the train leaving at 11.35 for Nottingham, at which town all the other members of the show, including the proprietors, Colonel Cody and Mr. Salsbury, met the train at the station, with the cowboy band, which played appropriate music. The coffin was unscrewed, and each allowed to have a last look at their comrade. The body was then taken forward to West Brompton, London, by train, and buried in the Indian burying ground there.



It turns out there was a small amount of truth in the rumour with pretty much all of the detail being completely different from the folk version of the story.

It's fascinating to find out the facts behind the events, and quite sobering to see how easy it was to die from relatively minor injuries.



Here's a couple of inappropriate pictures of Wardsend Cemetery, with suitably serious and sombre young woman.

On hearing the story.


On hearing of the return home of the deceased.













Saturday, 3 January 2015

Day 78, scanning negative


Bloody hell this is time consuming.  Beginning to wonder whether it would be less time consuming to just take a digital photograph of the original prints.  And that might give a better image, even if lower resolution, than the negatives given the dust marks and scratches that they have picked up.

This shows one end of Kelvin Flats, the large building in the centre was the original Royal Infirmary building but at the time was occupied by the Norwich Union (may still be), and there is the ski slope on Parkwood Springs in the background.





Me in silhouette, in the kitchen of a student house shared by friends.




Hyde Park Flats in the distance, in the process of being demolished, possibly by the thumbprint approaching from the right.  The lighter coloured buildings just below and to the left are the parts of Hyde Park Flats that were modernised.  Hyde Park was one of the earliest and largest slum clearance areas in Britain, known as 'little Chicago' in the 1930s - according to Wikipedia.  The white building at bottom-right is the Meadow Hotel, now demolished.









Friday, 2 January 2015

Day 77, more baguette



The latest in an intermittent series of views into the life of a discarded baguette.

Our friend appears to be losing weight, there is a distinct sign of reduction in height.  Presumably microbial and bacterial events taking place within the corporeal mass of the former comestible product are causing shrinkage.  How like the rest of us as we age, though ours is more probably through compression and loss of elasticity than is the case here.  The length appears to be unchanged as well although there must be fractional reduction there too.  The human equivalent will not be considered.

No viewing of the bread companion has yet revealed any visible sign of life forms, articulated or otherwise.  All decomposition appears to be from elements within or air-born, and weather erosion will also have occurred.  There would have been a reasonable layer of snow on top over the last week, this will have slowed down some processes and accelerated others.

The colour appears to have changed somewhat too.  However due to a deficiency of cones on my part it is not possible for me to comment fully.




Previously I have expressed no desire to consume the lost baguette.  My opinion on this has not changed.










Thursday, 1 January 2015

Day 76, New year, new tower



This is Nellie perched on a tower of Really Useful boxes.




This is Furry perched in a towering position on top of a couple of guitars.



And if that doesn't fulfil your desire for a tower then there's a bonus couple of towers buried in the middle of this picture that may be familiar.



The design of these was based on the influential structuralist image of The Inverted Ice Cream Cones by Gustave Eiffel, one of his lesser known works.