Random Disconnected Diatribes of a p&p Documentation Engineer
While I can't say that I'm a fanatical weather watcher, I am interested in the way that the contributing factors change and provide the rudimentary basis for weather forecasting (at least in the short term). Tapping the glass of the old wood and bellows barometer to see which way it's moving is fine for a rough guide, but more sophisticated kit can provide a lot more useful data.
I've rambled in the past about the weather station and corresponding web site I run (http://www.primrose-hill.com), and I'm starting to get quite proficient at rudimentary cause/effect recognition. At first it was exciting just to watch the real-time display, but now I generally drift straight into the trends page and look at the range of charts it provides. The usually smooth gradients of these charts provide a good indication of what to expect in the next 12 - 24 hours.
So it was a bit of a shock to see the results shown below a few days ago. OK, so the pressure had been falling steadily overnight and stormy weather was, therefore, anticipated. And then, at around 10:30, it levelled off:
And within just a couple of minutes the wind direction had completely changed through something like 150 degrees from South West to almost due North:
At the same time, this cold North wind brought the ambient temperature down almost instantly by 3 degrees, and then by a further 2 degrees within half an hour. This is the fastest drop in temperature I've ever recorded:
Meanwhile, the heavens opened and it began to rain. And, briefly, it rained at a rate of over 26 mm (one inch) per hour:
We'd had some rain earlier in the day, but within a few minutes we'd had another 1.5 mm, climbing to 2 mm within the hour:
I keep hearing about the gradual changes to our climate brought on by global warming, but this almost instantaneous change in the weather (local cooling?) was quite a surprise. And then, within the hour, it was snowing - though I knew that was going to happen because I'd just watched the weather forecast on the TV (and, yes, I know that's cheating)...
In fact they say this will be the coldest winter here in Britain since 1963/4. I can believe it - we've regularly had days where the temperature falls to minus 15°C (5°F) during the night and never gets above minus 5°C (23°F) during the day. They even said that one night last week it was colder in England than at the North Pole. Snow had been lying here for more than four weeks (waiting, as my Grandma would have said, for more). And while it's cold here, most of the Northern hemisphere seems to be suffering as well. I read that the temperature in Northern China was as low as minus 35°C (-31°F) in December so I suppose we're relatively lucky here. And, of course, everyone marvelled at the frozen lighthouse in Ohio.
So I suppose my New Year's resolutions should include buying a set of winter tyres for my car, stocking up on rock salt and shovels, and getting the central heating system serviced regularly. Meanwhile, if you are still at the "watching dials go round stage", you can just play with the semi-real-time page instead of looking at boring charts. It's updated every ten seconds:
Some while back, I was explaining why "USB" stands for "Unexpected System Behavior" (see Top 10 Tips for New or Nervous Computer Users). However, while roaming the web looking for something different for my wife for Christmas, I discovered that what it really stands for is "Useless Separate Bauble". You only have to explore some of the gadget gift sites to see why. Obviously I bought the wrong computer, because mine only has seven USB ports. It seems as though twenty is the minimum to achieve a harmonious and satisfying working environment these days.
I suppose I could buy a USB Motorcycle Engine that adds three extra USB ports, with the added bonus of making annoying motorbike noises whenever it's plugged in. Then I'd be able to connect a USB MSN Missile Launcher so that people can shoot harmless projectiles at me while I'm chatting with them. But best of all, I'd be able to plug in my USB Pet Rock. At least that would be less annoying than most other USB gadgets seeing as how it doesn't actually do anything at all.
In fact, paying money for stuff that doesn't do anything at all, never mind anything useful, seems to be a new and growing trend. I'm trying to figure when I'd need a pen that writes with ink that just disappears again leaving no trace (see KGB Disappearing Ink Pen), or a shower curtain showing the periodic table (useful in case I forget what the atomic mass of Caesium is while I'm showering, I suppose). Or even a pair of electronic eyeballs that blink in a very realistic manner and, according to the web site (though I'm not sure I believe it) can "turn any object into a lifelike lovable friend". Hmmm ... they obviously work to a different definition of the words "lifelike" and "lovable" than I do.
But at least I did find some really useful things. I toyed for a while with buying my wife an artificial hand for eating potato crisps without getting your fingers greasy. However, in the end, it had to be a remote controlled duck. Just the thing for extra bath-time fun.
And for myself? I reckon it's a tossup between an electric guitar T-shirt that you can actually play (and there's a drum one as well), or the more enigmatic "There's no place like 127.0.0.1" version.
As you can see, we're in for an exciting non-denominational gift giving season at our house this year...
So here a question: in how many consecutive years must something happen before it stops being a once-in-twenty-year event? I only ask because it would be nice if the people who pretend to run the country were at least a bit prepared for such an event.
I refer, of course, to the recent snow we've had here in Britain. Tales abound of services failing, lack of capability to manage the situation, and general incompetence. For example, despite the fact that, with the exception of the three worst days, everyone in our village has managed to get to work without a problem, there have been no letter post or parcel deliveries for nearly two weeks. Dustbins and recycling bins have not been emptied for three weeks, and there's been absolutely no sign of any council workers attempting to improve the situation for local taxpayers.
Talking to a colleague who lives in a similarly sized residential district in the US, it's interesting to compare how they handle winter weather conditions. Their local council emails residents with details of its plans, ploughs and grits the local roads, and delivers a pallet of rock salt for residents to use to keep paths and drives clear. Our council promised us a grit bin after the snow last year, but it's never materialized. And, best of all, a visit to their web site revealed that "they'd love to receive photos of the winter conditions for their picture gallery", yet there was absolutely nothing about how they plan to fulfil their duties of managing their district's needs.
Yes, I'm aware of the argument that we can't afford to have equipment standing around all year just in case it snows. But surely there must be some ways that they can be prepared and actually do something when it occurs, without investing millions of pounds in fancy snow blowing machines. A simple snowplough on the front of the gritting trucks would help, and some attempt to clear the side streets as well as the main roads would be nice. A local farmer happened to be passing last week and it took him five minutes to clear the worst from our road. Why don't the council have some official plan for farmers who can't get onto their land at this time of year to clear snow when required?
But I suppose the stories on the TV news and in the papers reveal the real depth of our country's incompetence. The council has to preserve grit stocks because they can't be replenished - the grit delivery trucks are stuck in the snow! Health and safety rules mean that refuse and recycling collectors cannot work when there is ice on the paths. And the highways department requires anyone who wants to use machinery on a public highway to complete a training course and apply for a special license. So that's OK then, we can take comfort from the fact that everything grinds to a halt because of the usual health and safety concerns...
However, where there really is a concern is with the web. Can internet shopping survive another year of late and non-deliveries without people deciding it's just not worth the hassle? I ordered a snow shovel a week before the worst of the snow came, and it's still somewhere in transit (probably the driver is using it to dig himself out as we speak). Even my new Windows Phone, which is coming by courier, has spent two weeks wandering between depots without seemingly getting any nearer here.
According to the managers of the major delivery companies and the post office, interviewed on TV during the "crisis", we can expect the disruption in deliveries to continue through to the New Year, and that's if there is no more snow. They say that they are working 24 hours a day to catch up, but that it's seemingly an impossible task; and suggest that people should not rely on getting anything delivered in time for Christmas. But, unless somebody built a few million new houses last week, surely they should be pleased about the economies of scale that the compression of deliveries will produce?
I read in the paper that a record 832,000 pounds was being spent on the internet every hour here in the UK last week, so there's a very large pile of undelivered goods somewhere...
I received an invitation to attend a "highly recommended" course this week on how to maximize use of Office Communicator, Live Meeting, and the Office Conferencing System. Specially timed, no doubt, to coincide with the rather interesting weather we are currently experiencing here in Britain. And obviously a really vital event to reduce the need for travel during this period of meteorological uncertainty.
Great, I thought, really useful - must sign up and watch the remote presentation! Except that, oddly, it's only being held in London and Reading (both some 180 miles away from me) and is not being networked. So I have to travel to see a presentation about reducing the need to travel. I suppose they assume that, until you see it, you won't know how to view it remotely. Maybe these photos of our usually green and pleasant land will indicate why I'm likely to miss it...
When you think about it, it's clear that software architects and developers should rule the world. Not that - in reality - they don't already. Let's face it, almost everything that goes on in the world today, from air traffic control to motor cars to the microwave oven in your kitchen is powered by software. But what's becoming clearer over time is that they should be running the Government as well.
Here's the justifications:
1. Software developers manage usage of their primary resource, memory, knowing that there is a finite limit to the amount available. At some point you'll run out of slots to plug more in. You can't just print more memory for your application to use. Governments, meanwhile, have no idea how to manage their primary resource, which is, of course, money. They just keep spending it until there is none left, then print some more, and then discover that there still isn't enough to keep their economy running. Examples: Government debt and the financial crisis.
2. Software developers realize that efficiency is the key to making an application work well, and for generating income that allows them to prosper and build even more software. Individual components of the application are accurately targeted, fine-tuned for performance, and only instantiated when required. Governments, meanwhile, work on the principle that the best way to promote efficiency is to appoint more people to watch the people who are already watching other people who are trying to do something. Efficiency in Government consists of using maximum resources to manage input, instead of minimizing resource usage whilst achieving the required output. Examples: taxation systems and nationalized health services.
3. Software architects design systems based on known and tested mechanisms and patterns, thinking ahead to avoid applying limitations that will inhibit any future changes or extensions to the system; and considering interoperability, effectiveness, and reuse. Governments, meanwhile, design systems based on ideology and with no consideration of impact and unintended consequences; and usually based on untried practices and unproven assumptions. Examples: health and safety regulations and the Human Rights Act.
4. Software developers implement comprehensive testing regimes for their products, and provide an efficient feedback mechanism that allows them to discover faults and improve quality before the application is deployed. Governments, meanwhile, implement new systems with no prior testing and have no effective feedback mechanism that supports changes when glaring errors or omissions are discovered. Faults are either ignored, or result in changes that make things worse. Examples: the European Union and the single currency.
5. Software architects and developers innovate rapidly, meet constantly changing requirements, and fulfill aspirations in a fast moving market with regular new paradigms. Governments, meanwhile, plan for yesterday and strive to maintain power and the status quo. Examples: Doha trade negotiations and global environmental summits.
6. When a fault in a system is detected, software developers apply effective patches and updates to resolve the issue. Governments, meanwhile, prevaricate and apply wildly unpredictable and often unsuitable or unsatisfying fixes that often make things worse. Example: Cheddar cheese.
OK, so that last one might seem a rather strange example. But if you read about how the Irish Government is responding to the disastrous ramifications of its membership of the European Union last week, you'll understand. They've decided that the best way to counter the effects of running out of money is to give everyone in the country a nice soothing block of cheese to take their mind off the crisis (see Let Them Eat Cheese). A move that Jeremy Paxman on Newsnight rather neatly summed up as "quantitative cheesing".
But at least Wallace and Grommit would have approved (though Wensleydale would have been even better)...
So here's the problem with the Internet. They say it's supposed to bring everyone closer together and make the world a smaller place. But actually, at least in a virtual sense, the opposite is happening. Things that are geographically "next door" now seem like they are hundreds of miles away. It's all a bit like looking down the wrong end of a telescope.
OK, so you are probably wondering what kind of weird tangent I've gone off on this week. Maybe, as a friend commented on my blog a week or so ago, I'm on either too much (or too little) medication. As justification for my wild allegation, therefore, I'll materialize my virtual procrastinations by explaining the actual scenario that played itself out this week. It all started with wooden delivery pallets, tarpaulins, cats, and jumble sales...
The basic problem is that our local cat sanctuary raises money to look after a considerable number of waifs and strays though a variety of events, of which my wife is an active participant. A major one of these events is the bi-monthly jumble sale, which requires the accumulation of large volumes of assorted bric-a-brac, clothes, toys, and all kinds of other assorted saleable items. And, therefore, somewhere to store them.
Having exceeded the capacity of our current storage facilities, the only option now is to store non-delicate materials under tarpaulins on wooden pallets in the yard. However, even summer weather here in our wild and desolate corner of England often consists of rain and gales, and keeping the tarpaulins secured to the pallets is a problem. So my wife decided that she needed a big box of those hefty clamps that market traders use to secure the covers on their stalls, which seem able to withstand all kinds of inclement weather.
No problem! That's just what the Internet is for. OK, so finding a supplier required some frenetic application of various sets of search terms, but after a period of concentrated Binging we'd located a couple of suppliers. And having chosen the ones she wanted at a specialist market trader supplier's site, we flashed the plastic (including a not inconsiderable amount for next day delivery) and sat back to await arrival.
And, lo and behold, the next day a big van pulled up and deposited the goods on our doorstep. Strangely, the name on the van (different, of course, from that on the website) seemed oddly familiar. The reason only became apparent, however, when some loud and entirely unladylike language began to emanate from the kitchen where my better half had just read the delivery note and discovered that the name of the supplier we purchased from is actually a trading name, not the real name of the company.
Yes, you guessed it - the reason that the name on the van seemed familiar was that the company is located on a local industrial estate only about a mile and half away from us. My wife had peered down the wrong end of a telescope and paid nine pounds for the privilege of doorstep delivery from a company that she assumed was hundreds of miles away. And my mentioning that the site did have a "collect from warehouse" option as well as an "expensive next day delivery" option on the purchase page didn't really help...
Yet you only have to visit a search engine, mapping web site, or one of those sites that tests your connection speed to discover it's possible to determine your location from just your IP address. And I guess it's even easier on a phone that has a location capability built in. So here's a suggestion for the IE development team: as well as protecting users by checking the validity of the site's certificate and displaying a nice padlock if it's OK, how about also popping up a dialog that says "It would be cheaper just to walk down the road and fetch it"...
So it's been an interesting couple of weeks. I've been enthralled by some ancient mechanical technology, discovered that I can no longer buy a very ordinary item of computing equipment, pondered on the business logic inside foreign ATM cash dispensers, and become very familiar with ladies stockings.
OK, so maybe I should start by explaining the last of these to head off any rumors. Some friends of ours run a company that manufactures high quality fully fashioned nylon stockings for sale all over the world. It's a fairly specialist product and so volumes are small, and they only employ a few people. However, a recent minor disaster in their factory meant that they were way behind with dispatching orders. So they called in favors from friends, which is why we spent a weekend helping to pack stockings for a major customer of theirs in the US. It certainly made playing with computers seem a much more attractive career. Mind you, my code often morphs into equally complex tangled heaps; though thankfully it doesn't usually, like 15 dernier nylons, stubbornly adhere to the desk, the walls, my gloves and tee-shirt, and every other faintly static-charged surface.
But what really fascinated me about their factory was the knitting machines. If, in the improbable case that you venture into the vaguarities of my blog on a regular basis, you'll know that I'm a devotee of historical mechanical engineering technologies. So being able to watch a 10 ton, 60 foot long machine concurrently knitting 30 stockings to some incredibly complex pattern without any input from computers (or, in fact, any source of control other than an experienced operator and a huge variety of cogs, chains, pulleys, and levers) was absolutely fascinating. More than 10,000 miniature needles moving in unison, some 100 reels of yarn steadily unwinding, dozens of shafts and cogs spinning, the delightful aroma of hot oil and ancient machinery, and more noise than a road repair gang at work. Amazing.
If you want to see a picture of knitting machines similar to these, check out this page.
So what has all this to do with our hi-tech industry? Well, how about this: I'm reasonably sure that the ATM machine I used while in Cyprus doesn't depend for its logic or programming on a series of cogs, levers, and chains. It's all some very clever computerized mechanism that is obviously more reliable and less prone to weird behavior than a 60-year old mechanical knitting machine. So why, when I wanted to withdraw some Eurothings in cash, did it execute the following process:
I'm going to take an educated guess that it figured I was English from my language selection, assumed that all English people come from England, and that they all use real money (Pounds sterling). So it helpfully converted the usual nominal dispensing amounts from Pounds to Euros - even though it knows that it can dispense only 20 and 10 Euro notes. An interesting usability feature they probably paid some developer thousands of Pounds (or Euros) to implement within the software...
And then, arriving home from our holiday, I discover that the 15" LCD monitor in my server cabinet has decided that displaying stuff (other than as a blurry mass of colors) is no longer part of its remit. So I pop over to the website of one of my regular suppliers to order a replacement. Have you tried to buy a 15" monitor lately? Probably not, but I can tell you that you needn't bother. They're even rarer than hen's teeth. None of the numerous sites I tried, including several of those annoying shopping comparison sites, could locate one. But nothing larger will fit inside my server cabinet unless I chuck out most of the servers first.
And this is where I have to issue an apology to Amazon.co.uk. I've moaned in the past that they are damaging their brand visibility by allowing people who work from their spare bedroom to get equal prominence on the Amazon site, when I really only want to buy stuff from Amazon themselves. But now they do allow you to filter out merchant associates when showing products. And, better than that, one of their associates sold me a reconditioned 15" monitor at very reasonable price. Perhaps I should buy three so I have plenty of spares.
Or maybe I could just ask our hosiery friends to knit me a picture of the Windows Server 2008 desktop...
Here in England, the well-known and much loved actress Emma Thompson recently started a debate about the use by kids of slang terms that only serve to make them sound stupid. She cites things such as "yeahbut", "like", "innit" (perhaps an abbreviated form of "I'm a nitwit"), and use of the word "well" in phrases such as "I'm well tipsy". Or even "I'm well ill". Somebody even wrote to the newspaper to say that, as his train was pulling into Sevenoaks station, one of a group of teenage girls sitting opposite asked "Is this like Sevenoaks station?" - to which he replied "Yes, though the amazing similarity is probably due to the fact that it IS Sevenoaks station..."
But is does seem as though our vocabulary is changing at an increasing rate these days. At one time we had a "World Wide Web", and then we just had a "Web", and now - according to the latest version of the Microsoft Manual of Technical Style that all us technical writers have to abide by - we just have a "web". And they even make us miss out the spaces now, so we have a "website" rather than a "Web site". But I suppose it saves on paper and network bandwidth.
And I guess it just mirrors the way that "the Internet" became "the 'Net", then just "the net". And "E-mail" morphed to "e-mail" and then to "email". It's happened in the past to things like "Biro" (invented by Ladislas Biro) and to "Hoover" (named after William H. Hoover, who started the company that perfected earlier designs). And then, once they get to be lower-cased and spaceless, we start creating our verb derivations - such as "emailing" and "hoovering". So how long will it be before we hear about people "webbing" and "netting". The fact that our wealth of newly-derived words often already have a proper meaning seems to be irrelevant these days.
One wonderful line from some obscure poem I read ages ago, supposedly about the noises that emanate from an upstairs apartment, was "The moving hoover hooveth, and having hoov'd moves on".
But what's interesting is if the real reason we had to get rid of "World Wide Web" was because it started with the wrong letters. Having to repeatedly say "doubleyew doubleyew doubleyew dot..." each time you read out a website URL was a pain. Though, thanks to George Dubya Bush, we can now generally get away with just "dub dub dub dot...". Though I always find that hearing it conjures up visions of a nursery rhyme.
Perhaps if Tim Berners-Lee had started out by calling it the "Random Resources Repository", we'd still have a proper name for it. I mean, it would be easy to say "arrrrrrrgh dot...", and everyone would understand that the extended length of the arrrrrrrgh signified three of them. And I doubt that even our linguistic regulation people here at Microsoft would decide we had to call the stuff on servers "reposites". Plus, we could have arrrrrrrghlogs and arrrrrrrghmail and arrrrrrrghpplications (though that just sounds like somebody posh saying "application").
But I suppose it would only encourage more pirate jokes (what did the doctor say to the pirate with a bad leg? "It looks like you've got arrrrrrrghthritis")...