In my obsession with numbers and statistics I am not alone.
It is not even an exclusively male trait as I am aware of many women who also revel in spreadsheets, facts, figures , trends and patterns.
It is, in my opinion, the duty of all of us to be informed, well informed and as from as many independent and impartial sources as possible.
Of course I have found myself in anxious expectation of the daily update on the terrible Coronavirus.
It is sometimes easy to forget that the world and its critical issues and problems are still rolling on in the background.
They may be taking very much of a secondary importance to those nations and populations caught up in the pandemic but truth is that key statistics and numbers are continuing.
Here is just a brief snapshot of them; These are from Worldometer, an international team of developers, researchers and volunteers with no political, governmental or corporate agenda.
Their figures are provided through their website in real-time and must be seen at source to appreciate the true picture (see link at foot of page)
The figures below were taken, very much in snapshot, starting at 6pm British Standard Time on Wednesday 15th March 2020. Some of the figures are moving so rapidly that I have estimated their rates.
Health
Communicable disease deaths today so far- 3,760,095- 1 every 2 seconds
Seasonal flu deaths- 140,880
Deaths of children under 5 years old- 2,201,620- tragically 1 every 3 seconds
Cancer deaths- 2,378,856- rate of 1 every 3 seconds
Cigarettes smoked so far today- 11,771,566,897- going up in smoke at 1 million every 5 seconds
Deaths caused by smoking- today- 1,447,985. Rate of 1 per 3 seconds
Deaths caused by alcohol- 724,453- every 10 seconds
Money spent on illegal drugs- $115,876,538,678- about $100,000 a second
Road Traffic fatalities this year - 391,008- increasing at 1 every 20 seconds
Demographics
Current World Population- 7,777,977,425. This global figure is increasing at around 5 persons per second.
Births this year- 40,570,753. Rate of increase is around 2 births per second
Births so far today - 288,165. Increasing at 2 births per second
Deaths this year so far- 17,032,743- roughly 1 death per second
Deaths so far today- 121,138- rate of 1 per second
Net population growth this year to date- 23,538,585- as per rates above for births/deaths
Net population growth today- 167,613 as above rate
Economics
Public Health Expenditure so far today $11,308,255,345- ramping up by $100,000's per second
Public Education Expenditure today- $7,752,430,230- increase of around $1,000,000 per second
Military Expenditure- today $3,541,600,358- increasing at $100,000 a second
Trade
Cars produced to date this year- 22,709,070- rolling off the production line at 1 per second
Bicycles produced so far this year- 43,568,245- pedalling off at 2 per second
Computers produced this year so far- 72,711,415- around 2 per second
Society and Media
New book titles published this year to date- 774,492. Page turning at 1 every 5 seconds
Newspapers circulated- 361,700, 459- figures in black and white- 1000 per second
TV sets sold worldwide so far today- 506,700- channel surfing at 10 per second
Cellular phone sales to date today- 4,906,620- going out at 200 per second
Money spent on video games today- $220, 365,550- playing at $2000 a second
Internet users in the world today- 4,532,187,998- logging on 10 per second
E mails sent today so far- 198,383,554, 249- flying out at more than 2 million a second
Blog posts written today so far- 587,727,334- scribbled at 300 a second
Tweets sent today so far- 588,078,245- too many you might say at 40,000 a second
Google Searches so far today- 5,408,067,348- get a life at 150,000 a second
Environment
Forest lost so far this year in hectares- 1,506,291- disappearing at 1 hectare every 5 seconds
Land lost to soil erosion to date- 2,027,886 hectares, Rate of 1 ha per 4 seconds
CO2 emissions this year so far- 10,466,736,555 tons and with 1000 tons released per second
Desertification this year to date- 3,475,766 hectares at 1 per second
Toxic chemicals released (tons) 2,836,345 this year to date at 1 ton per second
Food and Water
Undernourished people globally- 842,302,817- adding 1 per second
Overweight people globally- 1,691,862,756- piling on the pounds at 1 per second
Obese people in the world- 754,546,028- swelling at 1 per second
Deaths from hunger today, so far- 23,506. Too upsetting to comment
Money spent on obesity related programmes in USA today $443,811,884- $10000 a second
People with no access to safe drinking water- 801,906,562 - decreasing at 1 per second
Deaths caused by water related diseases- 243,908 so far to date
Energy
Days left to end of oil- 15,764
Days left to end of natural gas- 57,710
Days to end of coal- 148,879
If you don't believe the statistics just compare my snapshot to those on the real time website.
Link;
Before your very eyes- do not blink!!
Wednesday, 15 April 2020
Tuesday, 14 April 2020
Endangered Specialisms
We may be fascinated by the current round of TV programming which seems to have steered away from all things culinary and towards crafting, renovating, restoration and re-purposing.
There is a disturbing precedent where cookery is concerned in that we may love to watch others doing it but yet we remain unenthusiastic about actually doing it in our own homes.
Unfortunately the list, below, of already extinct, endangered and at risk traditional heritage crafts suggests that it may already be too late.
The decline in some sectors has been steady over decades and even centuries as demand, tastes and manufacturing processes have changed.
However, the blame for allowing these skills to diminish is a collective one amongst us from a long term failure to perpetuate a system of apprenticeships and in our consumerist and throw-away society where there is no place or indeed appetite for beautiful, individual things.
Other factors, specific to certain activities include a shrinking core number of craftsmen and women and low financial viability. The role played by part timers and devotees of a particular craft should not be overlooked.
That is not to say that specialists are no longer required as there will always be a need from museums, galleries and collections to maintain their existing exhibits and works of art.
The following crafts are considered to be extinct, in that they are no longer practiced in the UK.
Cricket ball making Gold beating Lacrosse stick making Mould and deckle making
The next category is for crafts and skills that are critically endangered.
- Basketwork furniture making NEW FOR 2019
- Bell founding
- Clay pipe making
- Clog making (hand-carved soles)
- Damask weaving NEW FOR 2019
- Devon stave basket making
- Fair Isle straw backed chair making NEW FOR 2019
- Fan making
- Flute making
- Fore edge painting- (putting images on the end of book pages)
- Hat plaiting NEW FOR 2019
- Horse collar making
- Kishie basket making NEW FOR 2019 (oat straw basket to fetch peat)
- Maille making NEW FOR 2019
- Metal thread making
- Millwrighting NEW FOR 2019
- Oak bark tanning
- Orrery making NEW FOR 2019 (mechanical solar system for training purposes)
- Paper making (commercial) NEW FOR 2019
- Parchment and vellum making
- Piano making
- Plane making
- Pottery (industrial) NEW FOR 2019
- Reverse glass sign painting NEW FOR 2019
- Saw making
- Scissor making
- Shinty caman making NEW FOR 2019
- Sieve and riddle making
- Spade making (forged heads)
- Spinning wheel making NEW FOR 2019
- Swill basket making (used on coal steamships and industrial processes)
- Tanning (oak bark)
- Tinsmithing
- Wainwrighting NEW FOR 2019
- Watch dial enamelling NEW FOR 2019
- Watchmaking
- Withy pot making NEW FOR 2019 (willow pots for crabs and lobsters)
Crafts classified as ‘endangered’ are those which currently have sufficient craftspeople to transmit the craft skills to the next generation, but for which there are serious concerns about their ongoing viability. This may include crafts with a shrinking market share, an ageing demographic or crafts with a declining number of practitioners.
- Arrowsmithing
- Bee skep making NEW FOR 2019
- Bicycle making
- Brass instrument making
- Brick making
- Broom making
- Brush making
- Carpet and rug tufting NEW FOR 2019
- Chair caning
- Chair seating
- Clock making
- Clog making
- Coach building
- Coopering (non-spirits)
- Coppersmithing (objects)
- Coracle making
- Corn dolly making NEW FOR 2019
- Cricket bat making
- Cutlery making and tableware NEW FOR 2019
- Engine turning
- Falconry furniture making NEW FOR 2019
- Flintknapping (masonry)
- Folding knife making
- Free reed instrument making NEW FOR 2019
- Gansey knitting NEW FOR 2019
- Gilding
- Globe making
- Glove making
- Hand grinding
- Harp making
- Hat block making
- Horn, antler and bone working
- Hurdle making
- Illumination
- Iron founding
- Japanning (European imitation of Asian lacquer work)
- Keyboard instrument making
- Ladder making
- Lead working
- Letter cutting
- Letterpress NEW FOR 2019
- Marbling
- Nalbinding NEW FOR 2019 (Textiles made with a single needle)
- Neon bending NEW FOR 2019
- Northumbrian pipe making NEW FOR 2019
- Oar, mast, spar and flagpole making
- Pargeting
- Passementerie (making of tassels and fringes for decoration)
- Percussion instrument making
- Pole lathe bowl turning
- Rake making
- Rush matting NEW FOR 2019
- Sail making
- Scientific glassworking
- Shoe and boot last and tree making NEW FOR 2019
- Side saddle making NEW FOR 2019
- Slating
- Smocking NEW FOR 2019
- Split cane rod making
- Straw working NEW FOR 2019
- Surgical instrument making NEW FOR 2019
- Sussex trug making
- Tile making (wall and floor tiles)
- Umbrella making NEW FOR 2019
- Vegetable tanning
- Wallpaper making
- Wheelwrighting
- Whip making NEW FOR 2019
- Wooden pipe making NEW FOR 2019
- Woodwind instrument making
Source; The Heritage Crafts Association
Monday, 13 April 2020
Anywhere on Sea
I have a great sense of foreboding whenever I arrive at the front door of a house and see a multiple array of doorbells.
From a distance, as I park the car, the property may look pretty normal in a fairly average street of other non-descript residences. It may have a typical house number or traditional name such as "Belvedere", " Stratton" or "Montsarrat Villa" sculpted into a block of well worn granite or sandstone above the entrance porch or in a lozenge shaped plaque on the front bay.
There are no other clues to indicate that the property has at some time been carved up and sub-divided into a number of flats, bedsits or rented rooms.
I was up the coast in a seaside town , one of those which has a peak season of perhaps three months of the year with the remainder being a bit bleak and dismal, in effect an enforced hibernation with business owners and proprietors seeking other forms of activity and income to supplement the hard fought and meagre returns of a British Summer.
In its halcyon days the steam trains would bring a tremendous influx of not just day trippers but full week or fortnightly holidaymakers from the industrial conurbations of West Yorkshire.
The Hotels and Guest Houses, Bed and Breakfast establishments, Boarding places and self contained flats were well patronised and investors and speculators pumped in large scale investment to build better and grander places to stay in the town.
The prime locations were those with the benefit of unrestricted views of the sandy beach and North Sea followed by the streets running behind and parallel to the Esplanade and Promenade where a rooftop aspect might, on a clear day, just give a glimpse of the reflection of the sun on the bay waters or the distant chalk headland of Flamborough.
The doorstep on which I found myself was at the foot of a once striking and flamboyant house.
The brickwork was of the best quality hard glazed type of fired red clay embellished with tiled cill bands and stacked soldier arches above large small paned glazed sash windows. The front elevation projected over two floors in a shallow bay giving side views up and down the well laid out street. Above the first floor window was a stonework balustrade giving the stylistic appearance of a balcony. It was a fine example of a late Victorian villa evidently built to order for a well to do family even if only occupied for a few weeks every year as a getaway residence from the industrial smog and pollution of Leeds, Bradford and Halifax.
In its lifetime the building will have experienced many changes of ownership and occupation. After single occupancy the scale of the accommodation will have suited some commercial use in the holiday sector before a gradual decline in demand as overseas vacations became more affordable and siphoned away the traditional core of working class visitors to the town.
Next use would be as self contained flats accessed from shared hallways, stairwells and landings with demand from first time home-leavers, contract workers and those having to vacate static caravans and mobile homes for two months of the year as part of the planning restrictions for that type of accommodation.
In one of the cyclical house price booms the owner of such a building would seek to sell the flats off piecemeal after giving them a bit of a makeover and cosmetic upgrade. An out of town investor could be enticed to purchase the whole property at an unbelievably low price for the regular rental income to be generated but with low capital appreciation and mounting maintenance costs the deal would soon be plainly too good to be true.
The spiralling decline followed the usual pattern. Poor flats seem to demoralise and defeat the most resilient of tenants. A degree of consequential default and damage bites into the diminishing income stream. Disrepair caused deterioration and again, poor flats etc, etc.....and so on.
My visit on this day coincided with the next lowest ebb in the life cycle of the property.
It had been repossessed by a mortgage lender for missed payments by the landlord.
The five doorbells were a symbol of a last ditch effort by the owner to squeeze out as much cash as possible.
As I opened the front door I was met by a sweet, sickly and overpowering odour.
I recalled a similar fragrance from some years earlier when a cloud of flies had surged at me as I made my way into another similar property. One of the tenants had passed away but the body had not been discovered for some weeks. The neighbours had been shocked by the whole thing but none of them knew the name or any meaningful facts about the deceased even though they had lived in close proximity for more than a decade.
The warm wave of stagnant air caused me to breathe in the last available fresh outside air before entering. This almost caused me to wretch and gag under the smell which was stronger and more pungent within the four walls.
The ground floor series of rooms constituted one large flat. It was clear of furniture and belongings and towards the rear inner part the atmosphere returned to somewhere near normal. However, as I ascended the stairs to the first floor the stench returned with a vengeance.
The first floor provided two flats with a shared shower room off the landing. There was little room to walk about because of the extent of broken furniture, discarded rubbish and accumulated goods and chattels as though part of a secret hoarded stash by survivalists fearing an impending Armageddon. At the far ends of the first floor the smell again receded but I still had to place my jacket sleeve over my mouth and nostrils as a makeshift gas mask.
The source of the icky, sicky and thoroughly unpleasant emissions could only, by deduction, come from the top floor rooms.
I found it difficult to mount the stairs which were strewn with beer cans and beer bottles. The landing area had a mound of soiled bandage dressings and more stale and evaporating alcohols dregs. There were two more bedsit type flats each with a kitchenette packed full of half opened and discarded packets and tins of foodstuffs well on the way to natural organic decomposition in the fetid and humid atmosphere spattered with excitable flies.
The gagging sensation returned to the back of my throat and I could do nothing more than carefully retrace my steps through the morass and get out into the fresh air.
I returned the keys to the estate agency office just as the first impulse to scratch an irritation on my skin registered in my mind. The office staff were keen for me to report my opinion on the place as they had not yet had the pleasure of a personal visit.
From a distance, as I park the car, the property may look pretty normal in a fairly average street of other non-descript residences. It may have a typical house number or traditional name such as "Belvedere", " Stratton" or "Montsarrat Villa" sculpted into a block of well worn granite or sandstone above the entrance porch or in a lozenge shaped plaque on the front bay.
There are no other clues to indicate that the property has at some time been carved up and sub-divided into a number of flats, bedsits or rented rooms.
I was up the coast in a seaside town , one of those which has a peak season of perhaps three months of the year with the remainder being a bit bleak and dismal, in effect an enforced hibernation with business owners and proprietors seeking other forms of activity and income to supplement the hard fought and meagre returns of a British Summer.
In its halcyon days the steam trains would bring a tremendous influx of not just day trippers but full week or fortnightly holidaymakers from the industrial conurbations of West Yorkshire.
The Hotels and Guest Houses, Bed and Breakfast establishments, Boarding places and self contained flats were well patronised and investors and speculators pumped in large scale investment to build better and grander places to stay in the town.
The prime locations were those with the benefit of unrestricted views of the sandy beach and North Sea followed by the streets running behind and parallel to the Esplanade and Promenade where a rooftop aspect might, on a clear day, just give a glimpse of the reflection of the sun on the bay waters or the distant chalk headland of Flamborough.
The doorstep on which I found myself was at the foot of a once striking and flamboyant house.
The brickwork was of the best quality hard glazed type of fired red clay embellished with tiled cill bands and stacked soldier arches above large small paned glazed sash windows. The front elevation projected over two floors in a shallow bay giving side views up and down the well laid out street. Above the first floor window was a stonework balustrade giving the stylistic appearance of a balcony. It was a fine example of a late Victorian villa evidently built to order for a well to do family even if only occupied for a few weeks every year as a getaway residence from the industrial smog and pollution of Leeds, Bradford and Halifax.
In its lifetime the building will have experienced many changes of ownership and occupation. After single occupancy the scale of the accommodation will have suited some commercial use in the holiday sector before a gradual decline in demand as overseas vacations became more affordable and siphoned away the traditional core of working class visitors to the town.
Next use would be as self contained flats accessed from shared hallways, stairwells and landings with demand from first time home-leavers, contract workers and those having to vacate static caravans and mobile homes for two months of the year as part of the planning restrictions for that type of accommodation.
In one of the cyclical house price booms the owner of such a building would seek to sell the flats off piecemeal after giving them a bit of a makeover and cosmetic upgrade. An out of town investor could be enticed to purchase the whole property at an unbelievably low price for the regular rental income to be generated but with low capital appreciation and mounting maintenance costs the deal would soon be plainly too good to be true.
The spiralling decline followed the usual pattern. Poor flats seem to demoralise and defeat the most resilient of tenants. A degree of consequential default and damage bites into the diminishing income stream. Disrepair caused deterioration and again, poor flats etc, etc.....and so on.
My visit on this day coincided with the next lowest ebb in the life cycle of the property.
It had been repossessed by a mortgage lender for missed payments by the landlord.
The five doorbells were a symbol of a last ditch effort by the owner to squeeze out as much cash as possible.
As I opened the front door I was met by a sweet, sickly and overpowering odour.
I recalled a similar fragrance from some years earlier when a cloud of flies had surged at me as I made my way into another similar property. One of the tenants had passed away but the body had not been discovered for some weeks. The neighbours had been shocked by the whole thing but none of them knew the name or any meaningful facts about the deceased even though they had lived in close proximity for more than a decade.
The warm wave of stagnant air caused me to breathe in the last available fresh outside air before entering. This almost caused me to wretch and gag under the smell which was stronger and more pungent within the four walls.
The ground floor series of rooms constituted one large flat. It was clear of furniture and belongings and towards the rear inner part the atmosphere returned to somewhere near normal. However, as I ascended the stairs to the first floor the stench returned with a vengeance.
The first floor provided two flats with a shared shower room off the landing. There was little room to walk about because of the extent of broken furniture, discarded rubbish and accumulated goods and chattels as though part of a secret hoarded stash by survivalists fearing an impending Armageddon. At the far ends of the first floor the smell again receded but I still had to place my jacket sleeve over my mouth and nostrils as a makeshift gas mask.
The source of the icky, sicky and thoroughly unpleasant emissions could only, by deduction, come from the top floor rooms.
I found it difficult to mount the stairs which were strewn with beer cans and beer bottles. The landing area had a mound of soiled bandage dressings and more stale and evaporating alcohols dregs. There were two more bedsit type flats each with a kitchenette packed full of half opened and discarded packets and tins of foodstuffs well on the way to natural organic decomposition in the fetid and humid atmosphere spattered with excitable flies.
The gagging sensation returned to the back of my throat and I could do nothing more than carefully retrace my steps through the morass and get out into the fresh air.
I returned the keys to the estate agency office just as the first impulse to scratch an irritation on my skin registered in my mind. The office staff were keen for me to report my opinion on the place as they had not yet had the pleasure of a personal visit.
Sunday, 12 April 2020
Home on The Range
If you log on to You Tube and search for Electric Vehicles the sheer volume of information is astounding.
It seems that every new purchaser of an EV is obsessed with making a movie about going to collect it from the Dealership and availing their subscribers subsequently of the day to day practicalities of ownership.
Although lumped into a good proportion of, at first glance, irrelevant social media coverage and at risk from being regarded as being inane, self-publicising and smacking of one-up-manship I must say that, having now had an all electric car in the family for approaching a year, it is just this type of information that will persuade others to make the change from an internal combustion engine for their primary or secondary form of private transport.
It is a big decision.
In some respects the motivation of helping in a small way to reduce emissions takes a bit of a back seat even though it may have been the prime reasoning.
To some extent we were, as a family, late to the concept of an EV but I feel that many who are seriously considering the changeover are just biding their time. This is perfectly natural given the progress in technology of batteries, the affordability of vehicles and the emergence into the mainstream market of, well, just normal looking motor cars rather than ridiculously pricey, plain ugly or avant-garde styled examples.
What we have found out is the phenomena of "range anxiety". This is a direct relationship between how much a vehicle, when out and about, has left in power charge and the proximity to home (if that is the main charging point) or a public access charging point. It is a real and tangible fear.
On a few longer journeys and even though the on-board computer suggests we can easily return home on the single charge we have made a long detour to seek out a charging station just to have that additional range, you know, a comfort blanket, just in case, a safety net and all other expressions that apply in the interest of resolving insecurities.
Even having carefully planned an excursion we have been thrown into a bit of a panic upon finding a charging point out of action. In such circumstances we have had to initiate Plan B and with Plan C in reserve, just in case.
All of the above may sound like insurmountable problems which, frankly, are just too great to tolerate for something that we rely upon heavily for our everyday requirements. Yes, the infrastructure is not quite there yet but those companies looking to invest billions in charging networks are also holding on until numbers of potential clients for EV power are at an optimum level.
Anxiety, tension and stress apart the family decision to change to an EV has been overwhelmingly positive.
There is a strange thrill to silent running ( apart from wind and tyre noise at normal vehicle levels) and I particularly love the artificially generated sound up to 20mph to alert pedestrians to your presence.
EV's are, after all, next generation in terms of engineering and they drive the same or even better than their fossil fuel counterparts. Running costs and servicing costs are low. If on a good tariff on your own domestic charging point the fuelling costs can be a tangible fraction of petrol and diesel.
Acceleration can be good and I have not missed at all the accompanying noises off from conventional powertrains and gear changes. Don't get me wrong I have been a bit of a petrol head in the past and not averse to driving around just for the sake of hearing a melodious exhaust tone but that is, I am happy to say, something that should be confined to history.
Our family are fortunate in having a home with a driveway which makes parking and charging so easy.
In this country a good proportion of the housing stock does not have this amenity but I do envisage, in the near future, dedicated neighbourhood chargers for shared use.
I did see that installation of points into roadside streetlamps was being trialled which would vastly increase practical EV ownership n just about every location.
Well, I've spared you having to sit through multiple home made movies on all and sundry aspects of the subject but if you are thinking about EV ownership then spending time wading through hours of footage is actually quite a good grounding.
It seems that every new purchaser of an EV is obsessed with making a movie about going to collect it from the Dealership and availing their subscribers subsequently of the day to day practicalities of ownership.
Although lumped into a good proportion of, at first glance, irrelevant social media coverage and at risk from being regarded as being inane, self-publicising and smacking of one-up-manship I must say that, having now had an all electric car in the family for approaching a year, it is just this type of information that will persuade others to make the change from an internal combustion engine for their primary or secondary form of private transport.
It is a big decision.
In some respects the motivation of helping in a small way to reduce emissions takes a bit of a back seat even though it may have been the prime reasoning.
To some extent we were, as a family, late to the concept of an EV but I feel that many who are seriously considering the changeover are just biding their time. This is perfectly natural given the progress in technology of batteries, the affordability of vehicles and the emergence into the mainstream market of, well, just normal looking motor cars rather than ridiculously pricey, plain ugly or avant-garde styled examples.
What we have found out is the phenomena of "range anxiety". This is a direct relationship between how much a vehicle, when out and about, has left in power charge and the proximity to home (if that is the main charging point) or a public access charging point. It is a real and tangible fear.
On a few longer journeys and even though the on-board computer suggests we can easily return home on the single charge we have made a long detour to seek out a charging station just to have that additional range, you know, a comfort blanket, just in case, a safety net and all other expressions that apply in the interest of resolving insecurities.
Even having carefully planned an excursion we have been thrown into a bit of a panic upon finding a charging point out of action. In such circumstances we have had to initiate Plan B and with Plan C in reserve, just in case.
All of the above may sound like insurmountable problems which, frankly, are just too great to tolerate for something that we rely upon heavily for our everyday requirements. Yes, the infrastructure is not quite there yet but those companies looking to invest billions in charging networks are also holding on until numbers of potential clients for EV power are at an optimum level.
Anxiety, tension and stress apart the family decision to change to an EV has been overwhelmingly positive.
There is a strange thrill to silent running ( apart from wind and tyre noise at normal vehicle levels) and I particularly love the artificially generated sound up to 20mph to alert pedestrians to your presence.
EV's are, after all, next generation in terms of engineering and they drive the same or even better than their fossil fuel counterparts. Running costs and servicing costs are low. If on a good tariff on your own domestic charging point the fuelling costs can be a tangible fraction of petrol and diesel.
Acceleration can be good and I have not missed at all the accompanying noises off from conventional powertrains and gear changes. Don't get me wrong I have been a bit of a petrol head in the past and not averse to driving around just for the sake of hearing a melodious exhaust tone but that is, I am happy to say, something that should be confined to history.
Our family are fortunate in having a home with a driveway which makes parking and charging so easy.
In this country a good proportion of the housing stock does not have this amenity but I do envisage, in the near future, dedicated neighbourhood chargers for shared use.
I did see that installation of points into roadside streetlamps was being trialled which would vastly increase practical EV ownership n just about every location.
Well, I've spared you having to sit through multiple home made movies on all and sundry aspects of the subject but if you are thinking about EV ownership then spending time wading through hours of footage is actually quite a good grounding.
Saturday, 11 April 2020
So it goes.....
This is a great passage from Kurt Vonnegut's "Slaughterhouse Five".
It is a complex tale rooted in his witnessing, as a Prisoner of War, of the Allied bombing of City of Dresden in February 1945.
Up until that time it had been relatively untouched by hostile action and its targeting to demoralise the civilian population of Germany has always been the subject of controversy and debate by historians and military tacticians.
The main character of the novel, Billy Pilgrim, recounts the horrific post-attack events as seen first hand by Vonnegut who, along with his fellow prisoners and guards, emerged from a subterranean former abattoir number 5 after which the book was named.
After considerable thought about how to put together his experiences into the written form Vonnegut opted for a science-fiction-anti-war approach and the following is one of the many flashbacks and out of sequence pieces.
"American planes, full of holes and wounded men and corpses took off backwards from an airfield in England.
Over France a few German fighter planes flew at them backwards, sucked bullets and shell fragments from some of the planes and crewmen.
They did the same for wrecked American bombers on the ground and those planes flew up backwards to join the formation.
The formation flew backwards over a German city that was in flames. The bombers opened their bomb doors, exerted a miraculous magnetism which shrunk the fires, gathered them into cylindrical steel containers and lifted the containers into the bellies of the planes.
The containers were stored neatly in racks.
The Germans below had miraculous devices of their own which were long steel tubes. They used them to suck more fragments from the crewmen and planes. But there were still a few wounded Americans, though, and some of the bombers were in bad repair. Over France, though, German fighters came up again, made everything and everybody as good as new.
When the bombers got back to their base the steel cylinders were taken from the racks and shipped back to the United States of America where factories were operating day and night dismantling the cylinders, separating the dangerous contents into minerals. Touchingly, it was mainly women who did this work.
The minerals were then shipped to specialists in remote areas. It was their business to put them into the ground, to hide them cleverly so they would never hurt anybody ever again.
The American fliers turned in their uniforms, became high school kids. And Hitler turned into a baby, Billy Pilgrim supposed..........Everybody turned into a baby and all humanity, without exception, conspired biologically to produce two perfect people named Adam and Eve, he supposed"
Found on pages 60 and 61 of Vintage Vonnegut by Penguin Random House 1991
It is a complex tale rooted in his witnessing, as a Prisoner of War, of the Allied bombing of City of Dresden in February 1945.
Up until that time it had been relatively untouched by hostile action and its targeting to demoralise the civilian population of Germany has always been the subject of controversy and debate by historians and military tacticians.
The main character of the novel, Billy Pilgrim, recounts the horrific post-attack events as seen first hand by Vonnegut who, along with his fellow prisoners and guards, emerged from a subterranean former abattoir number 5 after which the book was named.
After considerable thought about how to put together his experiences into the written form Vonnegut opted for a science-fiction-anti-war approach and the following is one of the many flashbacks and out of sequence pieces.
"American planes, full of holes and wounded men and corpses took off backwards from an airfield in England.
Over France a few German fighter planes flew at them backwards, sucked bullets and shell fragments from some of the planes and crewmen.
They did the same for wrecked American bombers on the ground and those planes flew up backwards to join the formation.
The formation flew backwards over a German city that was in flames. The bombers opened their bomb doors, exerted a miraculous magnetism which shrunk the fires, gathered them into cylindrical steel containers and lifted the containers into the bellies of the planes.
The containers were stored neatly in racks.
The Germans below had miraculous devices of their own which were long steel tubes. They used them to suck more fragments from the crewmen and planes. But there were still a few wounded Americans, though, and some of the bombers were in bad repair. Over France, though, German fighters came up again, made everything and everybody as good as new.
When the bombers got back to their base the steel cylinders were taken from the racks and shipped back to the United States of America where factories were operating day and night dismantling the cylinders, separating the dangerous contents into minerals. Touchingly, it was mainly women who did this work.
The minerals were then shipped to specialists in remote areas. It was their business to put them into the ground, to hide them cleverly so they would never hurt anybody ever again.
The American fliers turned in their uniforms, became high school kids. And Hitler turned into a baby, Billy Pilgrim supposed..........Everybody turned into a baby and all humanity, without exception, conspired biologically to produce two perfect people named Adam and Eve, he supposed"
Found on pages 60 and 61 of Vintage Vonnegut by Penguin Random House 1991
Friday, 10 April 2020
Sunny Side Up
It is the eve of the renowned TAEDC.*
Whilst many such events and competitions have been cancelled under the current Health Emergency this annual eggstravaganza is ideally suited to a remote platform and those participating will be doing so via Instagram, Skype, Zoom, WhatsApp and many others available and thriving in response to self isolation and social distancing.
This year the competition has been the subject of an open entry policy. It promises to be egg-pic!!!!
I have not taken part for a few years but in the past few days with, frankly, quite a bit of eggstra time on my hands the wheels of thought and creativity have been on overdrive, or should I say "easy-over" drive.
I am more than happy to give eggsamples that could prompt the onset of an eggsibit.
Consider it to be a willing eggschange of ideas. Even if you are a seasoned competitor or a first timer then it can still be a very interesting and satisfying eggsperience.
There are some very topical potential entries and I will not dwell on these.In the past some of the TAEDC offerings have been bordering on the eggsistenstial although in my observation and analysis it is the concept that does best even where eggsibitors have spent many hours and invested a lot in raw materials for their creations to take shape.
There are really no restrictions on the intricacy or detail that can be applied but this remote media judging may result in some loss of the finer creative points which I hope will not be too eggasperating.
It is time now, ahead of the actual competition which takes place tomorrow to assemble the bits of card, fabric, googly-eyes, glitter, Copydex**, lolly sticks, tissue paper, toilet rolls***, pipe cleaners, cereal boxes, aluminium foil, old socks, cotton wool buds**** and any other things you have to hand. Also prepare a suitable work space which is safe and ,if using more pungent glues , well ventilated.
Your health, welfare and seggurity are paramount.
You will feel a full range of emotions during the initial stages of planning. These can be from eggsilaration to eggsaustion.
Remember to take deep breaths but also to eggshale in order to prevent light headedness and fatigue.
The most important thing is to enjoy yourself. The TAEDC is always an eggstraordinary eggsperience.
Have fun.I am already eggcited.
* Thomson Annual Easter-Egg Decorating Competition
**other fun adhesives are available *** advised maximum 3 per entry ****unused essential
This year the competition has been the subject of an open entry policy. It promises to be egg-pic!!!!
I have not taken part for a few years but in the past few days with, frankly, quite a bit of eggstra time on my hands the wheels of thought and creativity have been on overdrive, or should I say "easy-over" drive.
I am more than happy to give eggsamples that could prompt the onset of an eggsibit.
Consider it to be a willing eggschange of ideas. Even if you are a seasoned competitor or a first timer then it can still be a very interesting and satisfying eggsperience.
There are really no restrictions on the intricacy or detail that can be applied but this remote media judging may result in some loss of the finer creative points which I hope will not be too eggasperating.
It is time now, ahead of the actual competition which takes place tomorrow to assemble the bits of card, fabric, googly-eyes, glitter, Copydex**, lolly sticks, tissue paper, toilet rolls***, pipe cleaners, cereal boxes, aluminium foil, old socks, cotton wool buds**** and any other things you have to hand. Also prepare a suitable work space which is safe and ,if using more pungent glues , well ventilated.
Your health, welfare and seggurity are paramount.
You will feel a full range of emotions during the initial stages of planning. These can be from eggsilaration to eggsaustion.
Remember to take deep breaths but also to eggshale in order to prevent light headedness and fatigue.
The most important thing is to enjoy yourself. The TAEDC is always an eggstraordinary eggsperience.
Have fun.I am already eggcited.
* Thomson Annual Easter-Egg Decorating Competition
**other fun adhesives are available *** advised maximum 3 per entry ****unused essential
Thursday, 9 April 2020
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