Observations from a Hill

Putin's Lair and the mad dog himself...   An anecdote from Vladimir Putin's youth [quoted in the FT Weekend Feb 26/27] about a huge rat he had cornered, going on the offensive itself, cemented in his mind a life lesson he keeps to this day - "Everyone should keep this in mind. You should never drive anyone into a corner". It seems that he has not heeded his own youthful advice in the case of his invasion of Ukraine. He has indeed backed Ukraine into a corner, and they have gone on the offensive, rather than turning up their toes as Putin must have expected. His blitzkrieg has failed to take the immediate grip on the country he imagined, meeting fierce resistance from the Ukrainian military and its citizenry. Even though the border talks between the two sides have broken down without agreement today, the financial and political pressure being heaped on Russia is starting to tell, with the rouble tanking against all the major world currencies, and Russian billionaires

  It's hard to get a grip on just what Putin's motivations are, given the wealth that he has access to via the rest of the Russian oligarchy. He seems driven by paranoiac delusions of grandeur and a deep sense of unjustified injustice, taking his 'diplomatic' cues from Hitler's similarly deranged notions. The fact is, he is trying to wage a nineteenth or early twentieth century war in the twenty-first century: unfortunately for him and fortunately for the rest of us, the rules and context are completely different now. Everything moves just a little bit quicker these days, at least when governments et al. finally get off their butts and start dealing with stuff, as they seem to be doing as we speak: if the current set of sanctions, no-fly zones etc. do their job, Putin's power base will be eroded from all directions: the money men will simply evaporate to their stateless eyries and the citizens of Russia will realize once and for all that their 'leader'

  I really want to address the Ukraine conflict, but as I said yesterday, the situation is so fluid and unstable it's difficult to get a grip on it. There has been news today that Turkey may well block the Bosphorus Strait to Russian warships, which at least would staunch naval incursion into the Med and the rest of Europe. The key NATO territory of Poland is firmly in the way on the landward flank of the region - any invasion of which would precipitate a broad military response from the Alliance - whether this would escalate into a World War is pretty moot, given the extremely patchy support Putin has both at home and abroad. This is not thus far  an echo of the Europe of the 1930s, and it is unlikely that Putin can go much further; but that will be small comfort to the people of Ukraine, who sadly sit outside the NATO club. Whilst I take serious issue with those on the Left - my lifelong political allegiance - who are dim enough to still act as apologists for Russia(!), I do thin

It's still early days in the timeline of the invasion of Ukraine by Russia, and things are moving far too rapidly to get anything like a firm grip on how things might pan out, so I'll rest on the thing for the time being. Suffice it to say that it's a worrying time for Europe particularly, and the world in general; but the optimist in me hopes for a swift and positive outcome for the people of Ukraine in particular and Europe & the world in general.

  For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Well, Big Bear's gone and done it, and Russia's invasion of Ukraine is now escalating by the hour - even as the UK parliament is debating the issue, Russian forces appear to be moving deeper into Ukraine on three flanks. There are wide-ranging sanctions planned by the Western Alliance, which sees us ironically side by side with the EU again. If the promises being made to strangle the financial base of Russian - read Putin's - ambitions, then much headway will be made into denting any possibility of this escalating into a full-blown European war. Putin emulates the demagoguery of Hitler in his wish to avenge his decades-long grudge against the world for the fall of the Soviet Union, of which he was an integral, organizational part. But the geopolitics of this century differ greatly from the middle years of the last, and communications reach further and faster than at any time in human

  I posted about this recent acquisition the other day: a 1940's model IC engine by Rowell. Apart from the rarity of these things - only 400 ever made - this one is a bit of a conundrum.  Although I understand the mixing and matching of bits from the two main marks of this beast was not totally unknown, the 141 (Mark I) serial number on the body makes me think that this combo of what appears to be a Mark II body casting (cast, rounded exhaust port vs. the machined, square Mark I) and the Mark I rear plate and venturi; to be a deliberate option on behalf of the maker. There is such a paucity of information out there on these things that I would be grateful for any information that any of my readers could pass on to illuminate the situation. Keep you posted...

  Are we soon to see another war in Europe? There's certainly a lot of the modern equivalent of sabre-rattling: big man macho posturing and frantic rolling news and social media hysteria. We've even had to witness last night's PM news briefing sign-off: a rather tragic [paraphrasing here] 'I'm just going to make a rather important phone call to the President of Ukraine' in order to deflect from his woeful performance hitherto in the briefing. Who knows exactly what to believe? The news on the ground in Ukraine is 'business as usual': the Ukrainians are used to being surrounded by Russian troops and have been for years. Doris wants us to believe that he and the British government are the only things that can prevent Putin from invading the country - so far, all we've done is to embargo a couple of banks are three billionaires. Not going to cut it. Anyway, the bulk of these bugger's cash is salted away where the sun don't shine: it ain't al

  What fun that all was - not: the PM's press briefing on the Beeb tonight can only be considered by any rational being to have been an absolute car crash. Doris is so far out of his depth it's painful to watch. The farrago of mixed metaphors and messages - the two scientific advisors outlining quite clearly the reality of the pandemic's immediate prognosis and Doris equally quite-sort-of-clearly saying everything's coming up roses and not-to-worry-folks-just-trust-me... really? What was instructive were the small fragmentation grenades tossed into the fray by Laura Kuenssberg and Robert Peston, both shifting their questioning to the situation in Ukraine whilst carefully including merely supplementary questions about the bear's Covid policy changes: nice move. When faced with such diversity of interlocution, he simply crumbled, mumbled and faffed embarrassingly for what seemed an age until finally, he summoned up sufficient resources from the depths of his much va

The beauty pictured is a find from the aforementioned house-clearance, which had obviously been languishing in the house for decades, forgotten about after Mac died a few years ago. I spotted the box amongst some stuff in a carrier bag behind the sofa of the largely unused 'best' room downstairs in the front of the house. At first, I thought it might hold some old item of camera gear, as there were a couple of cameras with it in the bag, and as I collect film cameras - as anyone who's read this blog knows - I put the whole bag to one side for later inspection. I didn't take any notice of the label on the box lid - the thing was obviously at least as old as I am - turns out, older - and so I assumed the contents wouldn't match the illustration on it in the slightest. How wrong can you be? On lifting the lid, I was greeted by a sight that actually took my breath away. A 10CC "60" model engine. Looking at it further, I realized I'd never heard of its marq

  'In societies where modern conditions of production prevail, life is presented as an immense accumulation of spectacles. Everything that was directly lived has receded into a representation.'   The opening words of 'The Society of the Spectacle' [ Guy Debord; 1967, Buchet-Chastel, Paris] stand as a touchstone for the future to come. At the time of its writing, few outside the radical Left or Situationist International would have recognized the style or substance of his reasoning, but from the historical hindsight of a standpoint in the global North of 2022, it's patently obvious that he saw deeper than the surface gloss of mere party politics. What was then an incipient tendency has grown insidiously to be the normal state of being for most: advanced by neoliberal global elites and evidenced by the banality of most social media content, non-linear and linear TV, and advertising: '...the more [the spectator] contemplates, the less he lives; the more he identifi

  Well, it looks like Donny T'Rump is facing a tough decision as he is ordered to testify in the state civil investigation into his - and his family's - business practices: does he give testimony or take the Fifth? [source: AP] Neither option is likely to end in a positive for the Don. If he takes the Fifth, he will look guilty, if he testifies, his ego and verbal diarrhoea will ensure he puts his foot firmly in his mouth. Or, of course, if he opts to testify, he might be wise to take advantage of Twitter's wonderful AI to scramble his responses to questioning in such a way as to render him squeaky clean to the judge's ears. I say this because Twitter's AI doesn't seem to have learned idiomatic English and doesn't recognize ironic humour. My Twitter account was frozen this afternoon because of my response yesterday to a thread retweeted by Jess Phillips, MP. She was passing on James Felton's comment about Prince Andrew paying £12M to a woman 'he'

  Watching a repeat of one of Fred Dibnah's programmes on the box (colloquial term used by older people for the TV - itself pretty much an obsolescent concept - for those unfamiliar with the idiom), I randomly flashed on a particular piece of cultural appropriation that is so typical of Great Britain (I use the term Great loosely, and as a generally agreed appellation only). This particular instance of imperialist - dare I say peculiarly English - appropriation, was the case of James Watt's Garret Workshop at his house in Heathfield; then near, rather than in, Birmingham; his home from 1790 until his death in 1819. The room stayed pretty much undisturbed until 1924, when it was decided that its contents be moved, not to the Birmingham Museum of Science & Industry, its pretty obviously natural home, given that his work was so rooted in Birmingham and the Midlands; but to the Science Museum in South Kensington, London, to reside in a replica of the garret built there. Never s

I promised more goodies from our house-clearing activities, and pictured are such fruits. The picture is of one De Havilland DH98 Mosquito T3, registration (1963) G-ASKH, the markings for which were never worn by the aircraft. The registration on the fuselage in the photo is of the fictional 633 Squadron, which hints at part of this aircraft's interesting history, which I'll return to as I intend to write a short history of the craft, which I'll either post here, or if it turns into something more substantial, as an e-book. Incidently, the lucky bugger in the passenger seat in the photo, taken in 1970, is none other than the aforementioned Ian McMurray [Blog post, 'Engineer-ed' Feb. 11th], the aircraft inspector and my uncle-by-marriage involved with keeping this beauty in the air for quite some years, at the time the sole airworthy Mosquito extant. Unfortunately, as the copy of the AAIB report on which the picture rests shows, G-ASKH was destroyed in an accident in

  I caught something on TV last night (showing my age here, watching linear push programming) about the mistreatment of cattle on a dairy farm here in Wales. The footage was pretty disturbing and the activity of those concerned deserves nothing but contempt; but one salient point other than the cruelty itself stood out for me. The fact is that dairy farmers are making virtually zero profit out of selling their milk. When Doris and the UK Non-Gov™waffle on about 'levelling up' the economic disparities (between where and where, exactly?) in the UK, they talk largely in terms of capital investment in infrastructure projects such as transport links to give the hoi polloi the 'advantage' of 'commuting' to work. They miss the point entirely - almost certainly wilfully, having little care for anyone but themselves - that fundamentally our economy is broken at its heart and no amount of railway or road building alone can fix it. Underlying this breakage are some pretty

  Another surprise from clearing our relative's house: an Exacta Type B camera from circa 1935, with ever-ready case and manual. The camera is in need of repair as the shutter is, as we say in the trade, is knackered. It's an interesting wee beast though, as it takes, or rather took 127 roll-film, the smaller sibling to the still-used 120 film. Also, this thing has a focal-plane shutter, whereas most roll-film cameras have between-the-lens leaf shutters. The weird thing is that I've discovered that the long-since obsolete 127 film is now easily available because of the current renaissance in film usage, so I think it might be worth attempting a repair on this one: another potential project - btw, it's got a Schneider lens: peachy! Keep you posted...

Much speculation continues re. Doris Pooh the Younger's hold on power: Andrew Marr in this week's New Statesman tries to pick the bones out of the conundrum. Has Doris shot his load once and for all with his stupid/contrived comments about Starmer and Savile or will his intended dead cat ploy work after all? Either way, it would seem that the greased pig will escape his would-be captors and continue to a full term in his 'premiership'. Even if there is a successful leadership challenge, the alternatives are difficult for any person of reason to contemplate. At best, we'll see the enthronement of the multi-billionaire Rishi Sunak, whose perspective on the lives of the ordinary is at most abstractedly economic, let alone empathetic; or at the worst, we'll get someone like Liz Truss, who to be frank should not be put in any position of responsibility at any level, anywhere or under any circumstances, ever. The fact that she is currently favourite amongst the Tory r

  What a day's rugby football! Both my teams won convincingly today - my home team - Cymru, wrth gwrs - beat a very strong Scotland: all areas of our game were good and I hope to think that last week's poor showing will be the last of the tournament for us. More impressive, though, was my second team: France's victory over the incredible Ireland bodes very well for their future: Grand Slam for Les Bleus, anyone? I just wish that my old mate JC was still alive to see the day, or even just its possibility... Odds on Italy winning tomorrow? Anything's possible, or so it would seem...

Sorting through the stuff from our aunt's house, some things from her late husband's working past as an aircraft inspector - latterly at BAE Systems - have come to light, including his pocket slide rule and micrometer. Other items include some wonderful documents from his time at De Havilland, such as the pilot's notes handbook, for the Vampire NF.10 jet (pictured) dating to the early fifties, on which he worked: a lovely evocation of a time when knowledge and expertise were both regarded and rewarded accordingly as valuable, rather than as commercial metrics in some mad, capitalist Game of Thrones. People mattered. What they knew mattered. What they could do mattered. Otherwise, people died. One of the areas of modern life where these values still obtain is in aircraft safety and maintenance: proper engineering based fundamentally on the kind of principles that Ian McMurray (for twas he who owned these artefacts) would recognize today, were he still alive. Keep you post

Still sorting through stuff from our relative's house following their death last weekend. It's quite extraordinary to me that someone could live in the same (relatively) small semi-detached house for practically all their adult life. I've lived in so many places over my time that the very concept itself is just plain alien. The most settled I've been is in our present home, and even at my age I can't rule out further change. I think that for some people, after too long in a given situation or context, a fear of change sets in, which eventually becomes entrenched and phobic, so that the very notion of moving on is anathema. Add into the mix chronic illness and a reluctance to accept outside help and the result is eventual isolation and a lonely death. Not pretty or uplifting, but in one sense a self-determined and planned fate, so one can't argue with the purity of it. Everyone has their crossroads at some point in their life.

Well - bridges well and truly burned - I wiped the drive of the MacBook Air and installed Linux Mint, on Leo's recommendation; upgrading it to v20.3 this morning. So far, so good. It's stupidly easy to install, customize and update and its window manager is graphically slick and makes very good use of the Mac's GPU and screen. I've got Firefox and Thunderbird for the net and email, and have downloaded a bunch of good graphics and photographic apps and the system even comes with Stickies! What's not to like? To be honest, the only thing missing is the lack of a connection with my Apple ecosystem, which is after all pretty damned useful in syncing across all my devices . I'm sure that there will be a way of tapping into this from Linux somewhere out there, if Apple haven't totally sand-boxed everything. Keep you posted...

Further to yesterday's post, the MacBook Air has - as far as Mac OS, Apple and its online recovery process are concerned - no hard drive (well SSD in reality). This is demonstrably not true, and booting the thing up in Linux from USB shows the Apple-formatted drive - albeit unreadable to Linux - in situ. Obviously, the failed Monterey install has screwed up the boot sector of the thing, rendering it invisible to Apple's Disk Tools. I could make the effort and mess around trying to hack the thing back into visibility, but to be honest, as all my stuff's on iCloud anyway, I'm going to install Linux on the bugger and call it quits. I've got this old MacBook Pro to stick with the Apple ecosystem anyway, and I might just buy something more up to date at some point anyway, so there we are. That's all for now as it's been a long day starting the long process of sorting out a deceased relative's house... Postscript: Here I am on a newly Linux (Mint) enabled MacB

Truncated post tonight as my attempted system upgrade on my usual laptop has resulted in a spectacular bricking of the said device: words fail me…I’m seriously thinking about just installing Linux and be damned - Apple really seem to be losing the plot, like so many big tech companies…pissed off only comes moderately close. Keep you posted…

It's looking increasingly difficult for Doris Pooh the Younger to be able to spin his way out of the mire - of his own creation - that he finds himself in. His dwindling cohort of apologists is being rapidly whittled down to the chaff, the likes of Nadine Dorries being chucked in front of the ever-present Doris bus to give car-crash interviews where the task of answering simple questions seems completely beyond her. Twitter has lit up like a Hollywood marquee in recent hours in response to her frankly bizarre encounter via Zoom with BBC Breakfast presenter Charlie Stayt: some offering that she was drunk, others that she might be suffering some sort of breakdown and still others that she is romantically attached to Doris in some way. My take is that she's simply another out-of-their-depth scapegoat-in-the-making for Emperor Pooh: cannon fodder in the desperate campaign to keep the bear of little brain in power. Unfortunately for the ursine one - the appellation Big Dog never see

Well, it didn't prove to be much of an auspicious start to my country's campaign this year in the opening match of this season's Six Nations. We came second. Badly. In all fairness, Ireland were imperious, coming off the back of a fantastic autumn season; strong in all departments and harrying us into confusion and mistake after mistake. One score across the try line was small recompense for what was otherwise a rout - as the reigning champions, we should have done better, and that's the Triple and the Slam gone for this time - ah, well, there's always next time. By complete contrast, Scotland pulled off a lovely back to back Calcutta Cup victory for the first time in decades in a very tight and entertaining game with England. I'm looking forward to tomorrow's fixture between our continental cousins, France and Italy: France have been looking particularly good of late, so my second team at least are still in the running for the Slam. So far... Here's to

It's a very curious thing that my patchy attempt to refute the central thesis of Roland Barthes' essay 'Rhetoric of the Image' [blog posts passim] should still haunt my thoughts to this day, forty-four years after I wrote my final year dissertation on the subject. At the time - very pre-internet - very few outside of a fairly small academic circle were taxed by Structuralism and Semiology, or the essay in question itself, though widely published since the 1960's. Now, YouTube is awash with analyses of the document - which can only be a good thing - college lecturers and Grad students alike throwing their hats into the ring. I started watching an online lecture by Timothy McGee, posted I assume for his students (as I don't know of him, I can't say for definite). Interestingly, although I've re-read Barthes' essay several times in recent years, it was only in McGee's structuring of his analysis and its telling that I started to remember the thought

Left-field thinking. No one in their right mind would argue that ideas shot from the hip haven't always been the major driving force behind most of the technological advances made by the human race, from the Neolithic Era to the Industrial Revolution and right into the present day. In past posts I've referred to many such lightbulb moments - particularly in the various fields of ' computing ' [italics deliberate]. But the one thing that people seldom notice are all the Betamax's that escaped commercial exploitation and success, denying the rest of us good, useful and even fun technology. I know, I've been there, with some good people with a lot of talent, and we couldn't break the veil to get heard. Rather, the story has so often read that nascent great ideas and concepts are often missed by the suits and financiers in their pecuniary pursuit of wealth, often going with the 'obvious' or in latter years, riding the wave of some meme or bubble until th

"In the beginning was the command line" was the title of Neil Stephenson's 1999 book comparing various computer operating systems of the time. Of course, the reality is somewhat different: in the beginning there were no operating systems at all, just machines hand-coded by whatever means were available: hard-wiring, switches, and later, paper tape and so on. The layer of abstraction between machine and programmer that is an operating system first kicked in in the 1950's, and the idea of a command line really only started when suitable input/output devices came about.  The input modus operandi for many years owed much to the tabulating machines that preceded the general purpose computing machine: the punched card, which itself had its origins in the 1804 invention of the Jacquard loom, where cards perforated with a carefully arranged matrix of holes controlled the weave in the eponymous loom. On the output side, the ubiquitous method until the 1970's was the telety

It's always nice to have one's preconceptions trashed and to learn something one should have known all along. In the last couple of days I've had my received knowledge about the history and development of modern computing/device paradigms so trashed. I always understood that what we have come to recognise as the ubiquitous Graphical User Interface of modern computers and devices - how we interact with them - had developed from ideas born at Xerox Parc, taken up by Steve Jobs at Apple, and made global by Microsoft (eventually) as Windows. Also that the concepts underlying the 'Internet' as we now perceive it to have had its conceptual inception with CERN and Tim Berners-Lee in the early '90's - alluded to by Apple's HyperCard team and Bill Atkinson, et al in the immediate years before [blog posts passim]. Not so. The basic concepts behind all of it were thrashed out in the 1950's: the idea of Hypertext - the fundamental plank of the World Wide Web and