Kind: Articles

Tomorrow’s the big day when Claire and I move virtually everything we own from The Place to The Cottage. We’re picking up the keys at 9am, and we’re likely to be doing our first unloading at about 9:30am.

This is where you come in. Yes, you! While we could probably manage this box-moving farce all by ourselves, we’d rather have the company of our friends to help us lift heavy things, push things around, pack things, unpack thinigs, and shout at Claire when she keeps trying to get away with sitting down and doing nothing or at Dan when he tries to ride any wheeled box or filing cabinet down the hill. In exchange for your help, we’ll supply you with food and probably booze throughout the day; plus you’ll get to see The Cottage before it gets filled with people next weekend for Geek Night and, perhaps, Troma Night.

But better than that, you’ll earn our love and respect, which will be dispensed in multiples of 1, 3, 5 and 10 unit “Love And Respect” vouchers, redeemable for sexual favours at The Cottage’s gift shop.

If you can’t help on Monday there’s always Tuesday and Wednesday, when we’re also likely to be moving stuff and cleaning up The Place. Vouchers have no cash value and are not actually redeemable or existant. The Place, The Cottage, Love and Respect are copyrights of Dan & Claire’s Marvellous Journey Ltd. The Cottage gift shop may or may not actually exist. Food will probably be provided by Upper Limit Cafe and Burger King – at least until all the kitchen stuff is moved in – and alcohol by Thresher and Kanes, but this is open to negotiation and liable to change without notice. If you want to help, please phone at least quarter of an hour before you can turn up to save you from walking to the wrong place and finding us not there, natch. Bring your own umbrella.

It’s been awhile since Geek Night went on ’til 3am. And what a Geek Night. I’ve just introduced the usual crew to a board game (or will it end up as a computer game?) I thought up earlier in the week, and after a few playtest games to refine the rules and the cardset, we’re really getting together something which is really enjoyable and a great laugh. It’s like… Fluxx meets nanofiction. Like the trading element of Settlers of Catan meets the backstabbing of Munchkin, but with a better definate-length and less last minute struggles. It’s got the exciting close finishes of Il Principe but it’s as easy-going as Carcasonne.

Well… I like it anyway. And it got great feedback from the folks who sat around for three games of it this evening.

I’m thinking of calling it Neumann. Watch this space.

Right; off to Harlech today with Claire and some Singaporeans. No, if you don’t know or can’t work out why, it’s probably best that way.

In any case, we’ll be back for 7pm for Doctor Who and Troma Night at The Place. The second-to-last ever Troma Night at The Place…

Saw The Hills Have Eyes and Hostel at the Arts Centre Cinema‘s “Horror Double Bill” last night. The former was a mediocre horror flick which improves dramatically once you’ve got a lone guy fighting mutants with a baseball bat in a desert. The latter was a pretty good psychological thriller with a charmingly well-paced warm up and character introductions before everybody starts being mutilated: it’s improved by the fact that there’s surprisingly little gore – at least to begin with, with the sound effects making implications for themselves as to the content – but I’ve a feeling it’ll be ruined by a sequel.

I feel that we’re certainly making the most of the bank holiday weekend: too much, even, perhaps. With Faye‘s birthday (and some shopping for jungle-themed stuff, of course) tomorrow, Troma Night, this trip to Harlech, and whatever-it-is I’m supposed to be doing on Monday (can’t remember what it is, but I’m pretty sure I’ve arranged something… it’ll come back to me)… and meanwhile, what we should be doing is packing in anticipation of our upcoming house move. We’ve got a lot to do. Ah well.

Tony Long at Wired has written a great article. An extract:

1968. It was the height of the Vietnam War, the year of My Lai and the Tet offensive. Student riots in Paris nearly brought down the French government. Soviet tanks put a premature end to Czechoslovakia’s Prague Spring.

In the United States, the streets were teeming with antiwar protesters and civil rights demonstrators. Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Kennedy were assassinated within two months of each other. The Democratic convention in Chicago dissolved into chaos. And by the summer, America’s cities were in flames.

… 

But as bad as things were then, they seem infinitely worse now.

Well, Claire and I’s move is now confirmed: on 5th June 2006 we’ll leave The Place and head down to our new home, The Cottage. As usual, all offers of help with the move will be much appreciated and rewarded with beer and/or food, depending on the time of day at which the assistance is rendered. And, like last time, we’ll be putting photos online as we take them. Ooh; look, here’s some now!
It doesn’t really feel like we’ve lived in The Place that long: it’s less than six months ago that we moved in, and we’d hoped that we’d have been there a little longer. Nonetheless, The Cottage is lovely: nestled away in a little-known about part of town, surrounded by some fascinating architecture, and with a couple of nice perks I’m sure I’ll fill you in on as time goes on.

It is, however, a little bit smaller than The Place. Some of this space will be reclaimed: for example, there is no bed in the spare room which will give us more space to populate with desks, chairs, and computer gear. Some of it is less-able to be salvaged: for example, the living room – while as long as the one at The Place – is noticabley narrower, and also suffers from the addition of a dining table to it, rather than in the kitchen as is the case at The Place.

As a result, things may become more than a little bit cozy in September, when Troma Night once again comes into full swing. To be honest, we’re just not sure. Maybe it’ll be fine with a little jiggering and pokering, or maybe we’ll have to go with Plan B – the relocation (perhaps on a week-to-week basis) of Troma Night to various venues around Aberystwyth. But there’s nothing to worry about yet (or, perhaps, at all) – we’ll just have to wait and see.

Well, not Paul‘s curry per se, but the-one-he-organised.

Except he didn’t organise a time. It was always a bit up-in-the-air because it depended upon what time Ruth and JTA would have finished their cock-beating activities.

Well; I’ve done the research for him and collated that with his proposed times, and we get 7:35pm as the final time. There. Now you all know.

As Matt said, there’s an open mic night at The Angel, tonight at 8pm, £2 on the door. In the past, these open mic nights have been variable, with some really good performances and some less good ones, but the audience demonstrates it’s Aberystwyth spirit and is welcoming to pretty much anybody.

So, I’m going to pick up the microphone, and, this time – as I’ve been given about eight hours notice rather than the eight minutes I got last time – I ought to be able to rustle up a couple of “knock knock” jokes in advance, so I don’t just have to rip off everybody else‘s material in a methodical manner.

Want to see some of Aberystwyth’s upcoming comedy talent? And me? See you at The Angel.

Ahoy there, mateys. Troma Night tonight will be kicking off simultaneously at Adam‘s and at The Place at 7pm sharp for Doctor Who, and then reconvening at The Place for the rest of the evening.

If you’re not coming along for Doctor Who, then try at least not to turn up at half-past seven, just as the Doctor will be legging it from the cybermen, or you’re likely to be glared at most severely. By 7:30 you’ll have already missed your chance for a coveted spot on the couch, anyway.

I’ve no idea what we’ll watch. Paul‘s got at least one Troma flick we haven’t seen, as well as a mammoth collection of Mystery Science Theatre 3000 I’d love to make a dent in. And I’ve got a copy of Howling VI: The Freaks, who’s 3.7 star rating on the IMDB gives it’s fans the right to call it the “best sequel” to the original Howling. That should be sufficiently dire.

As far as good movies are concerned, I’m open to suggestions.

Just over a month ago, sick of the interest rates, I paid off my NatWest credit card by going into the Aberystwyth branch and saying “how much money do I have to give you to have you cut up this card and never bother me about it again?” I paid three-hundred-and-something pounds, direct from my bank account, then had the lady behind the counter cut up the card. There we are, done.

This morning I received a letter from NatWest Credit Card Services indicating that I’d missed a payment. I called them up to complain, and was told that the branch must have made a mistake in calculating the sum I owed them, because my account was labelled as being active and I still owed forty quid.

Then they said that it must, therefore, be their fault – the mistake of the branch that had mis-advised me (they took my word on the conversation I’d had in the branch) – and closed my account, dropping the remaining debt.

While it’s obvious that this was the correct thing for them to do – it was, indeed, their mistake that had caused the problem – I was impressed that they behaved in this way. They are, in the end, a bank, and over the years we’ve become used to banks screwing us over with ludicrous charges, seemingly just for the fun of it. Meanwhile, NatWest have consistently provided me with excellent customer support and an attitude of genuinely trusting me as a customer.

Bravo, NatWest. I have no problem with continuing to recommend you as a bank.

Troma Night is on as normal tonight, so, if you’re not going to The May Ball (who’s web site, I maintain, should allow web-based ticket purchases as I suggested last year), come along! It’ll probably only be a “two-film” night, as a number of us are celebrating Sundeep‘s birthday tomorrow with a walk up Snowdon, and it’ll be a long enough day without having only a few hours sleep, to boot.

Turnout should be medium-to-low: we expect a dozen people, maximum, so there shouldn’t be any fight for seats. For those who enjoy Dr. Who we’ll be kicking off at Adam‘s at 7:15pm, and Troma Night itself will start at The Place at 8pm, as usual.

In other news, Claire and I are going to have to move house… again! We’re not yet sure where to and when we’ll be moving, but we’re hoping to move early in June, if possible. If anybody has any great ideas for a themed Troma Night for the last ever one in The Place, we’re open to suggestions.

EDIT: As several people have quite rightly informed me, Adam is working until late: Dr. Who will be shown wherever-you-can-get-it. We’re going to try to sort it out in The Place, but no promises yet: check with me on the RockMonkey ChatRoom or by phone for updates.

EDIT: And Dr. Who is at 7pm, not 7:15pm, tonight. Ho hum.

Statto‘s written a piece on solar energy and the energy crisis in general. I almost commented on it, but then I decided I had enough to say to justify my own blog entry. As I see it, here’s the plan to cope with Earth’s immediate energy needs:

1. Use existing nuclear facilities – possibly new ones, too, while nuclear fuel can be found and while we can find places to bury all the waste (here’s a tip: Finland) – and, if necessary, start burning again the copious quantities of coal we’ve got just lying around while we suss out what to do next.
2. Suss out what to do next.

Easy. I don’t know why anybody kicks up such a fuss about this whole energy crisis thing!

But more seriously; unless we can crack nuclear fusion… or we find an economical way to get nuclear fuel from elsewhere in the solar system, we’re going to have to find some sensible way of making lots of power quickly, and within our lifetimes. Here are some of the promising alternatives from the top of my head:

• Geothermal energy is environmentally friendly but hideously uneconomic. The idea is that you dig a big two big holes and connect them at the bottom, then drop water down one of them where it boils and comes up the other one. Bingo: free hot water. It’s rarely hot enough to be useful turning turbines, so it’s basically a supply of free heat. Not so good. If we dug a deep enough pit we could probably make lots of electricity just from the heat of the Earth; but if we had the means to dig pits that deep within sensible economic constraints we’d probably have the resources to come up with something better anyway.
• Wind farms are getting better, but aren’t great. They don’t make a lot of power, but designs are improving all the time. For some reason, people – particularly in rural areas – complain that the windmills are unsightly (I think they look fab!) or noisy (I’ve stood directly under them at full-tilt and they’re almost silent, in my experience), but if we started doing more local electricity generation I’m sure they’d prefer windmills to pylons. We do need better designs for them, though, if we’re going to make a sensible future out of those.
• Solar power – at least under this atmosphere, as Statto talked about – is way out… perhaps if we could strip the atmosphere and live in little bubble cities, we’d be okay… That said, I’ve seen some fun and ambitious ideas to make solar panels better. My favourite of these is the following: stratolites! Stratolites are super-large helium balloons that float near the edge of space. Up there, the atmosphere isn’t such a problem (and, if they’re high enough, neither is wind), so just cover a few thousand stratolites with solar panels, and service them using robotic balloons. NASA’s doing some interesting work with high-altitude balloons (with not much success, yet), and they’re already a dab hand with solar panels: I’ll bet they could produce a usable prototype within a few years if they put their minds to it, and it’s certainly less far-fetched than using satellites for the same purpose. The minor issue is in getting the generated electricity back down here where it can be of some use, and I suggest that either long carbon nanotube wires (which might, sadly, be too heavy for the balloons, not to mention a hazard to aircraft) or “beaming” the power down in the form of microwaves (which will have the added advantage of supplying free pre-cooked poultry to nearby households) are the way forwards. In any case, meaningful solar power is a long way away.
• Bioenergy’s an option, of course, which also helps to counter the problems with our diminishing non-renewable resources like fossil fuels. Basically, it comes in two forms: you either take something alive and burn it, or you take something alive and make a slave of it. Neither is typically popular with freaky lefty vegan types, but they could always keep their lights turned off. The former option has seen some success in trials, where sugar was converted to ethanol and then combusted, which may be considered a waste of perfectly good alcohol. In the end, this is just a glorified way of producing solar energy by using plants as solar cells, which is superior in many ways to manufactured ones as plants are able to make more of themselves. The second bioenergy option has been used for centuries in non-electrical ways: can you imagine how much energy we could save if we hooked up our homes’ power supplies to little hamster wheels and let rodents do the work in exchange for food. The conversations could be interesting, too: “I’m going to put the kettle on, dearie: would you go and prod the gerbils, please?”
• Build a perpetual motion machine. After all, the laws of thermodynamics are just asking to be broken. The most interesting attempts to build these have actually succeeded… by cheating… but they cheated in interesting ways. Cox’s timepiece was a clock, built in the 1760s, that never required winding, because it drew power from the changes in atmospheric pressure. Nanomachines built on this and similar principles could theoretically supply all the energy that small devices could ever need: imagine if your mobile phone kept itself charged by changes in air pressure, eletrostatic charges, and – in case of emergency – miniscule inductors that produced a charge when you shook the phone, in a similar way to those everlasting torches. Of course, these aren’t strictly perpetual motion machines: they’re “stealing” energy from other sources, but if they’re only stealing energy from otherwise useless or renewable sources, then that’s a big step forward. In the same way as some new electric trains use “regenerative braking”, putting power back into the power lines through their pantographs as they slow down, all electrical systems could be designed to conserve and “steal” energy as they saw fit, using far less energy than they otherwise might.

So, that’s my thoughts – the impractical ramblings of a software engineer. How do you think we have to fix the upcoming energy crisis?

I’m currently working on a volunteer-run programming project and I just received a very unusual bug report from one of the test team. Not to bore you; but the project allows multiple users to log on to a web-based system and manage various details about themselves – their name, date of birth, gender, etc. – on a kind-of profile page.

Here’s the gist of the bug report:

Bug Report #124: Site has transgender issues

I just made myself male. I have permission to do this.

Surgery is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?

Then, I changed my nickname.

Now, I look like I’m female, despite my not touching my gender.

Maybe you shouldn’t have changed your nickname to “Dorothy.”

It seems if you’re saved as Male, you’re recognised as Female.

If you’re Female, you’re seen to be Unspecified.

Only if you’re in the Ukranian women’s shot-put team.

A few weeks ago I ordered a Logitech MX1000 laser mouse. It’s a nice mouse – chunky for my big hands, laser rather than LED for significantly higher resolution, wireless because it’s fun (but using a frequency that makes it as responsive as any other USB mouse), charges in a cradle. It’s even got a couple of really cool features like a hardware battery indicator.

Plus, I needed a new mouse. My last optical mouse umm… fell apart… during a particularly aggressive Unreal Tournament 2004 deathmatch.

Because it was my first order with the company I ordered it from, they insisted it must be delivered to my registered card address. Well, that’s not a problem – it was over the Easter break and so Claire would be there to receive it. The carrier was Initial City-Link. Okay; still no problem.

And somehow, they missed us. Perhaps Claire was out (or still in bed) when they called, but in any case, the delivery was missed and a calling card was left. I was instructed to call a phone number to arrange redelivery or collection.

This was Thursday 13th April. On Sunday, we were to begin our grand tour of the UK. And it was a bank holiday weekend (for Easter). When would I get my mouse?

I called the number on the card and was greeted by an automatic voice that prompted me to enter my consignment number – found on the card – into the system. It then gave me three options:

1. Arrange redelivery. Hmm. That’s not necessarily an option: I’d be away for a week, and the card said that they’d only hold the parcel for five working days… so… yes, redelivery would be good, but only if they’d still have the parcel when I got back, which depended entirely on which of the bank holiday weekend days they were working. I needed more information.
2. Arrange collection. Their collection centre for this region is in Newtown: about an hour’s drive away. Collection would certainly get me my mouse quicker. Gareth would be driving down through Newtown on Friday, but again – they might be closed. And we could potentially drive through it on Sunday.
3. Arrange a ringback. A-ha! A chance to speak to a human and have them fix the problem. Excellent. I pressed the button to arrange for them to call me back and waited.

Some hours later, they hadn’t called me back and, concerned about the fast-approaching bank holiday weekend and my subsequent absence from the delivery address, I tried to call back. This time, when I entered my consignment number into the automated service, a voice said, “You have already made a choice. Goodbye.” Great. So, what? I just have to wait?

I looked on the company’s web site and found another phone number and called it. After a bit of hassle, the woman on the other end of the phone told me I needed to call the Newtown branch to get the information I needed, and she gave me their number. For the rest of the day, at half-hour intervals, I tried to call, but it was always engaged. Eventually, I called back the woman at the head office and insisted that they held me. They told me that they were closed Sundays, Saturday afternoons, and the Friday, Monday, and Tuesday of the Easter weekend. I did the maths – that meant, they’d hold my parcel until the day after I’d return to Aber. She confirmed this. Excellent. All I had to do was to call the Newtown depot while I was in Scotland and arrange redelivery.

Needless to say, I never receieved my callback.

On Wednesday, I whipped the “we tried to deliver…” card from my wallet and phoned the number. I’d forgotten to bring with me the number for the Newtown depot – I only had the automated voice number – but I could have found internet access to get back the number had it been necessary. I was surprised, though, that when I entered my consignment number I wasn’t told “You have already made a choice. Goodbye.” Instead, I was told “We tried to redeliver, and you still weren’t there. You’ll now need to collect it yourself or have the sender pay for redelivery.”

What? Well of course I wasn’t there: I’m elsewhere. I called to tell you that the previous week, asked you to call me back – which you didn’t – called a few other numbers – most of which were perpetually engaged – and was eventually promised by somebody that it would all be fine. Now they’re saying that they won’t deliver it at all?

On Friday I was in Preston, with a stable internet connection and telephone signal, so I tired again. I called the main office number and found myself in a queue. I waited in the queue for about seven or eight minutes before it cut me off.

This was the last straw. I did a little bit of exploring of the web site to find some e-mail addresses and wrote a particularly snotty complaint, detailing all of the events above, to one. I’d try to call again on Monday, I reasoned. It turns out that saying that you intend to “make every effort to avoid using your incompetent company ever again” gets through to people.
On Monday, I actually receieved a phone call from them. They apologised profusely, and, after a bit of complaining that now it wasn’t Easter break I couldn’t so easily have somebody sign for parcels on weekdays, had them agree to redeliver on Saturday 29th. A little complaining finally gets a result.

I’ll let you know how the mouse is when I finally get it.

[spb_message color=”alert-success” width=”1/1″ el_position=”first last”]Update: the mouse turned out to be the best mouse I’d ever owned, and I was a little sad when I had to replace it.[/spb_message]