I know how I’m SUPPOSED to read it, but when I see this I can’t help but imagine a conversation like…
“What shall we call our car wash?”
/waves hand/ “I dunno.”
On our family Slack, Ruth and I have a tradition of reacting to one another’s messages, where no other emoji seems appropriate, with a “person rowing boat” emoji.
🚣
I can’t remember exactly how it started. Possibly one of us was using the text search to find the “robot” emoji (probably in reference to our robot vacuum cleaner, which used to be more-frequently found hiding under the sofa than anywhere else in the world).
🤖
But whatever the reason, the game stuck. And because you can leave multiple emoji responses to a Slack message – and because Unicode permits a diversity of gender and skin tone options for this particular emoji – sometimes this results in a whole flotilla of rowboats parading beneath our messages.
And if an emoji armada isn’t an excuse to demonstrate the fact that the <marquee> tag still works in most browsers, for some reason, I don’t know what is.
Back in 2021, as part of a course I was doing at work, I made a video talking about The Devil’s Quoits, a henge and stone circle near where I live.
Two years later, our eldest was at school and her class was studying the stone age. Each of three groups were tasked with researching a particular neolithic monument, and our eldest was surprised when she heard my voice coming from a laptop elsewhere in the class. One of her classmates had, in their research into the Quoits, come across my video.
And so when their teacher arranged for a school trip to the Devil’s Quoits, she asked if I could go along as a “local expert”. And so I did.
And so this year, when another class – this time featuring our youngest – went on a similar school trip, the school asked me to go along again.
I’d tweaked my intro a bit – to pivot from talking about the archaeology to talking about the human stories in the history of the place – and it went down well: the children raised excellent observations and intelligent questions1, and clearly took a lot away from their visit. As a bonus, our visit falling shortly after the summer solstice meant that local neopagans had left a variety of curious offerings – mostly pebbles painted with runes – that the kids enjoyed finding (though of course I asked them to put each back where they were found afterwards).
But the most heartwarming moment came when I later received an amazing handmade card, to which several members of the class had contributed:
I don’t know if I’ll be free to help out again in another two years, if they do it again2: perhaps I should record a longer video, with a classroom focus, that shares everything I know about The Devil’s Quoits.
But I’ll certainly keep a fond memory of this (and the previous) time I got to go on such a fun school trip, and to be an (alleged) expert about a place whose history I find so interesting!
1 Not every question the children asked was the smartest, but every one was gold. One asked “is it possible aliens did it?” Another asked, “how old are you?”, which I can only assume was an effort to check if I remembered when this 5,000-year-old hengiform monument was being constructed…
2 By lucky coincidence, this year’s trip fell during a period that I was between jobs, and so I was very available, but that might not be the case in future!
This morning, Google pulled a video from YouTube belonging to my nonprofit Three Rings. This was a bit of a surprise.
Apparently the video – which is a demo of some Three Rings features – apparently fell foul of Google’s anti-doxxing rules. I’m glad that they have anti-doxxing rules, of course.
Let’s see who I doxxed:
Yup… apparently doxxed an imaginary person with two structurally-invalid phone numbers and who’s recently moved house from Some Street to Other Street in the town of Somewhereville. 😂
(Maybe I’m wrong. Do you live on Some Street, Somewhereville?)
Let’s see what YouTube’s appeals process is like, shall we? 🤦
This checkin to GCA6CCW Purple door reflects a geocaching.com log entry. See more of Dan's cache logs.
It’s possible that cycling this path wasn’t the wisest idea, I realised, as I dodged brambles on both sides. So focused was I on riding safely that I forgot which GPSr I’d brought with me and listening for the beep it gives when I get close to my target… only realised 120m after the fact that I was using the GPSr that doesn’t give an audible beep and I’d overshot!
Doubled back and gave an extended hunt for the cache before finding it in pieces. Looks like it’s been wilfully vandalised (see photo). Returned the pieces to approximately where I figure they’re meant to live.
Love the idea, hope it can be fully repaired soon!
This checkin to GCADCWF Treasure island reflects a geocaching.com log entry. See more of Dan's cache logs.
After an appointment in Witney I opted to divert my cycle home to find this and the other cache on the same path. After cycling down to the GZ (past the noisiest sheep I’ve ever heard!) I was pleased to discover that the recent weather has left the island very dry, and I’d be in no risk of damp feet.
Brambles were a minor threat, but soon the cache was in hand. SL. Outer container has a damaged hinge; just needs a few screws to repair, and it’s not urgent. TFTC!
This is a repost promoting content originally published elsewhere. See more things Dan's reposted.
This wonderful project, released six weeks ago, attempts the impossible challenge of building a Civilization-style tech tree but chronicling the development and interplay of all of the actual technological innovations humanity has ever made. Even in its inevitably-incomplete state, it’s inspiring and informative. Or, as Open Culture put it:
Our civilization has made its way from stone tools to robotaxis, mRNA vaccines, and LLM chatbots; we’d all be better able to inhabit it with even a slightly clearer idea of how it did so.
Have I posted this joke before? It’s all a Blur.
Accessible description: Dan, a white man with a goatee beard and a faded blue ponytail, stands in a darkened kitchen. Turning to the camera, he says “I get up when I want, except on Wednesdays when I get rudely awakened by the tadpoles.” Then he holds up a book entitled “Pond Life”.
In a little over a week I’ll be starting my new role at Firstup, who use some of my favourite Web technologies to deliver tools that streamline employee communication and engagement.
I’m sure there’ll be more to say about that down the line, but for now: let’s look at my recruitment experience, because it’s probably the fastest and most-streamlined technical recruitment process I’ve ever experienced! Here’s the timeline:
With only eight days between the screener interview and the offer – and barely a fortnight after my initial application – this has got to be the absolute fastest I’ve ever seen a tech role recruitment process go. It felt like a rollercoaster, and I loved it.
1 The earliest available slot for a screener interview, on Tuesday, clashed with my 8-year-old’s taekwondo class which I’d promised I’ll go along and join in with it as part of their “dads train free in June” promotion. This turned out to be a painful and exhausting experience which I thoroughly enjoyed, but more on that some other time, perhaps.
2 After realising that “are you a robot” was part of the initial checks, I briefly regretted taking the interview in our newly-constructed library because it provides exactly the kind of environment that looks like a fake background.
This is a repost promoting content originally published elsewhere. See more things Dan's reposted.
Fellow geek, Nightline veteran, and general volunteering hero James Buller wrote a wonderful retrospective on his experience with Surrey Nightline, National Nightline, and the Nightline Association over most of the last three decades:
…
- In 1997 I left a note in the Surrey Nightline pigeon-hole to volunteer and eventually become the Coordinator
- In 1998 I emailed the leaders of National Nightline with a plea for support.
- In 2000 I launched the first National Nightline website and email list
- In 2003 I added the bulletin board online forum
- In 2006 I led governance reform and the registration project that led to the Nightline Association charity
- In 2007 I set up Google Apps for the recently established nightline.ac.uk domain
- In 2008 We sent news via an email broadcast system for the first time
- In 2025 All the user accounts and the charity were shut down.
So here’s my last post on volunteering with the confidential mental health helplines run ‘by students for students’ at universities, then the overarching association body.
…
I began volunteering with Aberystwyth Nightline in 1999, and I remember the 2000 launch of the National Nightline mailing list and website. It felt like a moment of coalescence and unity. We Nightline volunteers at the turn of the millennium were young, and tech-savvy, and in that window between the gradual decline of Usenet and the 2004-onwards explosion in centralised social networking, mailing lists and forums were The Hotness.
Nightlines (and Nightliners) disagreed with one another on almost everything, but the Internet-based connectivity that James put into place for National Nightline was enormously impactful. It made Nightline feel bigger than it had been before: it was an accessible and persistent reminder that you were part of a wider movement. It facilitated year-round discussions that might previously have been seen only at annual conferences. It brought communities together.
(Individuals too: when my friends Kit and Fiona met and got together back in 2003 (and, later, married), it probably wouldn’t have happened without the National Nightline forum.)
But while I praise James’ work in community-building and technology provision, his experience with Nightlines doesn’t stop there: he was an important force in the establishment of the Nightline Association, the registered charity that took over National Nightline’s work and promised to advance it even further with moves towards accreditation and representation.
As his story continues, James talks about one of his final roles for the Association: spreading the word about the party to “see it off”. Sadly, the Nightline Association folded last month, leaving a gap that today’s Nightlines, I fear, will struggle to fill, but this was at least the excuse for one last get-together (actually, three, but owing to schedule conflicts I was only able to travel up to the one in Manchester):
…
I had done a lot of the leg work to track down and invite former volunteers to the farewell celebrations. I’d gotten a real buzz from it, which despite a lot of other volunteering I’ve not felt since I was immersed in the Nightline world in the 2000’s. I felt all warm and fuzzy with nostalgia for the culture, comradeship and perhaps dolefully sense of youth too!
I was delighted that so many people answered the call (should have expected nothing less of great Nightliners!). Their reminiscing felt like a wave of love for the movement we’d all been a part of and had consumed such a huge part of our lives for so long. It clearly left an indelible mark on us all and has positively affected so many others through us.
…
Many people played their part in the story of the Nightline Association.
My part in the story has mostly involved Three Rings (which this year adopted some of the Association’s tech infrastructure to ensure that it survives the charity’s unfortunate demise). But James, I’ve long felt, undermines his own staggering impact.
Volunteering in charity technical work is a force multiplier: instead of working on the front lines, you get to facilitate many times your individual impact for the people who do! Volunteering with Three Rings for the last 23 years has helped me experience that, and James’ experience of this kind of volunteering goes even further than mine. And yet he feels his impact most-strongly in a close and interpersonal story that’s humbling and beautiful:
…
I was recently asked by a researcher, ‘What is the best thing you have done as a volunteer in terms of impact?’. I was proud to reply that I’d been told someone had not killed themselves because of a call with me at Surrey Nightline.…
I’d recommend going and reading the full post by James, right up to the final inspiring words.
(Incidentally: if you’re looking for a volunteering opportunity that continues to help Nightlines, in the absence of the Nightline Association, Three Rings can make use of you…)
This week, AI firm Anthropic (the folks behind Claude) found themselves the focus of attention of U.S. District Court for the Northern District of California.
The tl;dr is: the court ruled that (a) piracy for the purpose of training an LLM is still piracy, so there’ll be a separate case about the fact that Anthropic did not pay for copies of all the books their model ingested, but (b) training a model on books and then selling access to that model, which can then produce output based on what it has “learned” from those books, is considered transformative work and therefore fair use.
Compelling arguments have been made both ways on this topic already, e.g.:
Here’s a thought experiment:
Support I trained an LLM on all of the books of just one author (plus enough additional language that it was able to meaningfully communicate). Let’s take Stephen King’s 65 novels and 200+ short stories, for example. We’ll sell access to the API we produce.
The output of this system would be heavily-biased by the limited input it’s been given: anybody familiar with King’s work would quickly spot that the AI’s mannerisms echoed his writing style. Appropriately prompted – or just by chance – such a system would likely produce whole chapters of output that would certainly be considered to be a substantial infringement of the original work, right?
If I make KingLLM, I’m going to get sued, rightly enough.
But if we accept that (and assume that the U.S. District Court for the Northern District of California would agree)… then this ruling on Anthropic would carry a curious implication. That if enough content is ingested, the operation of the LLM in itself is no longer copyright infringement.
Which raises the question: where is the line? What size of corpus must a system be trained upon before its processing must necessarily be considered transformative of its inputs?
Clearly, trying to answer that question leads to a variant of the sorites paradox. Nobody can ever say that, for example, an input of twenty million words is enough to make a model transformative but just one fewer and it must be considered to be perpetually ripping off what little knowledge it has!
But as more of these copyright holder vs. AI company cases come to fruition, it’ll be interesting to see where courts fall. What is fair use and what is infringing?
And wherever the answers land, I’m sure there’ll be folks like me coming up with thought experiments that sit uncomfortably in the grey areas that remain.
This is a repost promoting content originally published elsewhere. See more things Dan's reposted.
Step into your head
that’s where planning happensStep out of your head
and into your senses
and into the world
that’s where life happens…
This week, my friend Boro shared a poem that he’d written. It’s simple, and energising, and insightful, and I really enjoyed it. Go read the whole thing; it’s not long.
Whether we’re riding high or low, there’s wisdom in being gentle with oneself. The rhythm of the piece feels a bit like breathing, to me, and from that is reminiscent of a breathing exercise I was shown, once, in which the inhalations were accompanied by a focus on self-awareness and the exhalations with one on situational awareness.
Boro’s poem makes me wonder if he’s come across the same exercise: that through my appreciation of his post I’m sharing in his experience of the same exercise, in another time and place.
Or maybe it’s just a nice bit of writing.