Observations from a Hill

A.I has its uses, undoubtedly; it can simplify workflows, generate images and videos from the written ideas of human content producers which can be genuinely creative, given that the person prompting the A.I model[s] has at least a modicum of creativity themselves. Think brush, paint, canvas, klutz vs. brush, paint, canvas, artistic sensibility. As always with machines and tools of any sort, human skill will always be necessary to initiate a creative and worthwhile process of production in order to lead to a useful or aesthetically pleasing outcome, itself a function of need outwith the scope of any A.I 'awareness'. Without human prompting, what would an A.I model produce in the vacuum of its own virtual space, left to its own devices; and why would 'it' care, assuming that the concept of 'caring' meant anything to 'it' in the first place, except as an abstraction of that very human concept? The problem for A.I is that it genuinely does live [quasi-exist...

As I've mentioned before, I read the Financial Times; always at the weekend, and once or twice in the week. Where other news outlets are politically biassed to a greater or lesser degree, the FT generally sits at one remove from all of that. It follows only the money and reports on what politics is doing to the world of money: "Without Fear and Without Favour" to quote its strap line. Hence, you often come away from reading it with an interesting and illuminating basket of views, almost, as it were, from the sidelines. From today's copy: Pete Hegseth, the US Defence Secretary, seems to be doing his level best to bring the US armed forces to its knees, fuelled by his President's continued 'adventures' in the Middle East and having sacked or forced out just about anyone of worth and/or experience from the military side of US government; which inevitably exacerbates the now stupendous debt mountain being accrued by Trump and his administration as they burn th...

We watched 'The African Queen' again this afternoon, for the umpteenth time, a film that has been a constant part of my movie landscape for as long as I can remember, and one of which I will never tire of watching. I remember exactly where I saw it first: as a young child, one Christmas, at my nan and grandad's house in Rotton Park Road, Birmingham, the house in which I was born nearly seventy-two years ago. The film was, for many years, repeated on TV every Christmas Day or Boxing Day here in the UK, which in retrospect seems an odd choice of seasonal movie programming, given its setting and narrative. It's kind of hokey and arch in its delivery, but it's really carried by Katherine Hepburn's always wonderful performance and the presence she brought to the screen, no matter the rôle played. Bogart was simply Bogart as always; veering between underplayed to mildly frenetic, but always a joy to watch. We have a number of staple go-to old movies in this house; mos...

The kind of content I routinely watch on YouTube involves a fairly limited set of subjects: music, chess, history, engineering & science; mathematics to a degree, and of course, food . Of the latter I follow a couple of corking Indian cooking channels: Latif's Inspired, which is mostly devoted to Bengali-style cooking, and the Curry Academy, which covers, in the main, British Indian Restaurant [B.I.R] cooking. I watched a couple of their 'casts this evening, one from each channel. The first was from the Academy, outlining a method of cooking an authentic 1970s British Indian Restaurant base gravy, to a recipe from a chef who started his career and honed his craft in that decade: Chef Din. Now, as anyone who frequented B.I.R restaurants back in the day will attest, the curry sauces back then had a very particular flavour and texture that one seldom finds these days, and for which I, for one, harbour nostalgic longings for. I've written before about my first exposure to S...

I've mentioned The Lads here many times, and as recently as the other day: the extended group of [formerly school-] mates that continued long after we had left secondary education, until we became our own diaspora spread far and wide around the UK and the world. Some of us survivors of this once extensive clan still stay in touch via email, the boomer's choice of remote communication. We sometimes get to meet up in person, in ones and twos, although a much larger gathering was formed at the funeral our dear friend Johnny Kyte [blog posts passim]: with representatives a number of the 'sub-tribes' that formed the Venn diagram of friendships within the larger 'super' grouping that was 'The Lads', which, by the time we hit the pubs of Birmingham in earnest back in the early-mid seventies, became very much a larger, mixed gender grouping, as we all started relationships and most got married. We had an email round yesterday to that effect, as it is sixty years...

We went over to Ynys Môn today for a drive out with Carol & Kev who are staying in the cottage for a few days before the next paying guests arrive; fetching up at Pringles - one of the most godawful retail experiences imaginable and to which coach-loads of ageing and aged people [don't say a word] flock in their hundreds every day during holiday seasons. Needless to say it was not my idea, but a pint in the pub opposite before was sufficient fortification to soften the blow. I simply studied the many shelves of fine whiskeys on offer, decided that all were far too expensive for my current pocket and went and sat in the car as the sun turned to showers, listening to Radio Four. We had previously paid a visit to Hooton's farm foods, passing the fields of sunflowers on the way, and bought some veg for tonight's soup; and then went and ate our sandwiches in the car-park of Plas Newydd, before deciding that the café there was effectively a no-go area of similarly old people,...