In the East:
I missed Portabello mushrooms.
In the West:
I miss Eringi mushrooms.
You can't have it all at once.
Monday, 8 February 2010
Saturday, 6 February 2010
Objects
I got a mail from a friend about a new podcast - 'A History of the World in 100 Objects', and about a week later, I was sitting in a car waiting when I heard it live on BBC Radio 4. The next day I was talking to my colleague about the TV tie-in episodes and today I visited the British Museum to see the first few objects of the 100. I've fallen in love in a really geeky way with stuff, hundreds and thousands and millions of years-old stuff.
Part of the romance is this way the BBC and the British Museum have approached the project, through every available modern media. If you missed the radio broadcast, you can download the podcast. If you can't go to the museum, you can see the objects online. Or if you can't be bothered to listen and visit and click, you can just push one button and watch it all on the box.
Britain was once a colonial power and stole a lot of swag from a lot of different places. I believe the correct word is 'plunder'. There's a big moral ? hovering over a lot of the stuff in the museum: should we really house Egyptian mummies and a statue from Easter Island in London?
I suppose it's a perennial question for British Museum Director and big brain behind the 100 project, Neil MacGregor, but he seems to have squared it off with his conscience. 'Let's face it', he quips, 'Bloomsbury might have been a bit of a disappointment to him', speaking of Mummy Hornedjitef's final internment in a glass cabinet in room 62, 3F (British) of the museum. 'Where do things from the past belong now?' he continues. He speaks of a 'common heritage' and says that he has increasingly come to think of the history of the world as one, shared story. I like that idea, but I'm not sure I buy it yet. He promised to come back to these questions and I look forward to hearing more.
So after Object [1] in room 62 it was back down to room 2 for Objects [2] and [3]. It was fun, a big kid treasure hunt around a museum I can't remember visiting before, but that I'd already started making plans to come back to for objects [4] - [100].
Done with hand axes, I wandered into the Paul Hamlyn library, just next to room 2. Right there on display were a half dozen or so books on Native Americans. I've been thinking about writing something about the Yurok (a Californian tribe of Native Americans) and a fellow called Demartin for a short story class I'm taking, so I was interested to see the books. I sat down with my bag still slung over my shoulder and read about basketry. But then suddenly it was closing time at the museum and I had to leave the library. I asked if the books would be in the same place for a while - I was feeling lazy and didn't really want to hunt to find them again next time. It's a tie-in with the Native American display upstairs the librarian said and of course it is, I thought, and why wouldn't the British Museum have a cache of Native American art and objects too?
Part of the romance is this way the BBC and the British Museum have approached the project, through every available modern media. If you missed the radio broadcast, you can download the podcast. If you can't go to the museum, you can see the objects online. Or if you can't be bothered to listen and visit and click, you can just push one button and watch it all on the box.
Britain was once a colonial power and stole a lot of swag from a lot of different places. I believe the correct word is 'plunder'. There's a big moral ? hovering over a lot of the stuff in the museum: should we really house Egyptian mummies and a statue from Easter Island in London?
I suppose it's a perennial question for British Museum Director and big brain behind the 100 project, Neil MacGregor, but he seems to have squared it off with his conscience. 'Let's face it', he quips, 'Bloomsbury might have been a bit of a disappointment to him', speaking of Mummy Hornedjitef's final internment in a glass cabinet in room 62, 3F (British) of the museum. 'Where do things from the past belong now?' he continues. He speaks of a 'common heritage' and says that he has increasingly come to think of the history of the world as one, shared story. I like that idea, but I'm not sure I buy it yet. He promised to come back to these questions and I look forward to hearing more.
So after Object [1] in room 62 it was back down to room 2 for Objects [2] and [3]. It was fun, a big kid treasure hunt around a museum I can't remember visiting before, but that I'd already started making plans to come back to for objects [4] - [100].
Done with hand axes, I wandered into the Paul Hamlyn library, just next to room 2. Right there on display were a half dozen or so books on Native Americans. I've been thinking about writing something about the Yurok (a Californian tribe of Native Americans) and a fellow called Demartin for a short story class I'm taking, so I was interested to see the books. I sat down with my bag still slung over my shoulder and read about basketry. But then suddenly it was closing time at the museum and I had to leave the library. I asked if the books would be in the same place for a while - I was feeling lazy and didn't really want to hunt to find them again next time. It's a tie-in with the Native American display upstairs the librarian said and of course it is, I thought, and why wouldn't the British Museum have a cache of Native American art and objects too?
Tuesday, 19 January 2010
Chaffage
Yeah, you read right.
I wasn't aware of this until Sunday.
I've been running a long time and I've never really looked back (bu-boom) and sure I've had the odd red patch here and there, sore toes and calluses and perennially bare inner thighs but never really full blown chaffage.
It's the rain you see is supposed to be the cause but I must have run in the rain before. All that cross country and teen angst remedial running at school. It was certainly raining on Saturday. Buckets and cats and dogs and gulls in the Thames on bouys.
It was a relief to get home and I hadn't really noticed any tell-tale signs, no soreness really. Then I stepped into the shower and my nipples felt like they were ablaze, burning, set alight, scorched, scalded, hot like chilli sauce...
Nipple chaffage: the worst kind.
I wasn't aware of this until Sunday.
I've been running a long time and I've never really looked back (bu-boom) and sure I've had the odd red patch here and there, sore toes and calluses and perennially bare inner thighs but never really full blown chaffage.
It's the rain you see is supposed to be the cause but I must have run in the rain before. All that cross country and teen angst remedial running at school. It was certainly raining on Saturday. Buckets and cats and dogs and gulls in the Thames on bouys.
It was a relief to get home and I hadn't really noticed any tell-tale signs, no soreness really. Then I stepped into the shower and my nipples felt like they were ablaze, burning, set alight, scorched, scalded, hot like chilli sauce...
Nipple chaffage: the worst kind.
Work today: an e-mail to Westminster Council
Dear ----,
Many thanks for your time on the phone just now and sorry I couldn’t hold it together. This is honestly something our clients in Japan are interested in.
As I mentioned, I work for a Japanese TV Production company (www.------------) based in London. We research and coordinate filming in the UK and Europe on behalf of Japanese broadcasters.
Right now we’re doing a bit of research about Westminster bridge, with a view to possibly filming it at the end of January (depending of course on permission and weather). Here’s a link to the photos we have found:
http://message.snopes.com/showthread.php?t=52983
As you can see, the likeness is undeniable. However, we’re keen to find out if this is real, or if it has been photo-shopped as some of the forum participants seem to think. Has anyone ever contacted Westminster City Council about this before… (for example, a complaint, letter of praise or someone else from the media)?
Secondly, as I mentioned on the phone, we’re trying to find out whether or not this design was part of the recent renovation work to Westminster bridge (as detailed here: http://www.tfl.gov.uk/corporate/media/newscentre/archive/3465.aspx).
Do you know who was contracted to do this work, or anyone I could approach about this? If possible, we’d like to know who chose the design, whether they are aware of this curious phenomenon and why they chose this design.
Thirdly, Japan has asked us to find out when the phallic sunshine striking the ground is longest and when it is shortest… would anyone at Westminster Council know about this?
Lastly, we’d also like to possibly interview a representative about the renovation work – is there anyone at Westminster Council who could do this?
Thank you in advance for all of your help about concerning this, and for taking it seriously.
Kind regards,
Guy Taylor
Production Assistant
--------------- Ltd.
-------------------------------
London ------, UK
Tel: +44 (0)20 8--- ----
Fax: +44 (0)20 8--- ----
www.--------------
Ref: 2010-12
Many thanks for your time on the phone just now and sorry I couldn’t hold it together. This is honestly something our clients in Japan are interested in.
As I mentioned, I work for a Japanese TV Production company (www.------------) based in London. We research and coordinate filming in the UK and Europe on behalf of Japanese broadcasters.
Right now we’re doing a bit of research about Westminster bridge, with a view to possibly filming it at the end of January (depending of course on permission and weather). Here’s a link to the photos we have found:
http://message.snopes.com/showthread.php?t=52983
As you can see, the likeness is undeniable. However, we’re keen to find out if this is real, or if it has been photo-shopped as some of the forum participants seem to think. Has anyone ever contacted Westminster City Council about this before… (for example, a complaint, letter of praise or someone else from the media)?
Secondly, as I mentioned on the phone, we’re trying to find out whether or not this design was part of the recent renovation work to Westminster bridge (as detailed here: http://www.tfl.gov.uk/corporate/media/newscentre/archive/3465.aspx).
Do you know who was contracted to do this work, or anyone I could approach about this? If possible, we’d like to know who chose the design, whether they are aware of this curious phenomenon and why they chose this design.
Thirdly, Japan has asked us to find out when the phallic sunshine striking the ground is longest and when it is shortest… would anyone at Westminster Council know about this?
Lastly, we’d also like to possibly interview a representative about the renovation work – is there anyone at Westminster Council who could do this?
Thank you in advance for all of your help about concerning this, and for taking it seriously.
Kind regards,
Guy Taylor
Production Assistant
--------------- Ltd.
-------------------------------
London ------, UK
Tel: +44 (0)20 8--- ----
Fax: +44 (0)20 8--- ----
www.--------------
Ref: 2010-12
Thursday, 14 January 2010
From Edge: "How is the internet changing the way you think?" 1/3
NASSIM N. TALEB
Distinguished Professor of Risk Engineering, NYU-Poly; Principal, Universa Investments; Author, The Black Swan
THE DEGRADATION OF PREDICTABILITY — AND KNOWLEDGE
I used to think that the problem of information is that it turns homo sapiens into fools — we gain disproportionately in confidence, particularly in domains where information is wrapped in a high degree of noise (say, epidemiology, genetics, economics, etc.). So we end up thinking that we know more than we do, which, in economic life, causes foolish risk taking. When I started trading, I went on a news diet and I saw things with more clarity. I also saw how people built too many theories based on sterile news, the fooled by randomness effect. But things are a lot worse. Now I think that, in addition, the supply and spread of information turns the world into Extremistan (a world I describe as one in which random variables are dominated by extremes, with Black Swans playing a large role in them). The Internet, by spreading information, causes an increase in interdependence, the exacerbation of fads (bestsellers like Harry Potter and runs on the banks become planetary). Such world is more "complex", more moody, much less predictable.
So consider the explosive situation: more information (particularly thanks to the Internet) causes more confidence and illusions of knowledge while degrading predictability.
Distinguished Professor of Risk Engineering, NYU-Poly; Principal, Universa Investments; Author, The Black Swan
THE DEGRADATION OF PREDICTABILITY — AND KNOWLEDGE
I used to think that the problem of information is that it turns homo sapiens into fools — we gain disproportionately in confidence, particularly in domains where information is wrapped in a high degree of noise (say, epidemiology, genetics, economics, etc.). So we end up thinking that we know more than we do, which, in economic life, causes foolish risk taking. When I started trading, I went on a news diet and I saw things with more clarity. I also saw how people built too many theories based on sterile news, the fooled by randomness effect. But things are a lot worse. Now I think that, in addition, the supply and spread of information turns the world into Extremistan (a world I describe as one in which random variables are dominated by extremes, with Black Swans playing a large role in them). The Internet, by spreading information, causes an increase in interdependence, the exacerbation of fads (bestsellers like Harry Potter and runs on the banks become planetary). Such world is more "complex", more moody, much less predictable.
So consider the explosive situation: more information (particularly thanks to the Internet) causes more confidence and illusions of knowledge while degrading predictability.
From Edge: "How is the internet changing the way you think?" 2/3
RICHARD DAWKINS
Evolutionary Biologist; Emeritus Professor of the Public Understanding of Science, Oxford; Author, The Greatest Show on Earth
NET GAIN
The post-Berners-Lee world of 2009, if we could have imagined it forty years ago, would have seemed shattering. Anybody with a cheap laptop computer, and an averagely fast WiFi connection, can enjoy the illusion of bouncing dizzily around the world in full colour, from a beach Webcam in Portugal to a chess match in Vladivostok, and Google Earth actually lets you fly the full length of the intervening landscape as if on a magic carpet. You can drop in for a chat at a virtual pub, in a virtual town whose geographical location is so irrelevant as to be literally non-existent (and the content of whose LOL-punctuated conversation, alas, is likely to be of a drivelling fatuity that insults the technology that mediates it).
'Pearls before swine' over-estimates the average chat-room conversation, but it is the pearls of hardware and software that inspire me: the Internet itself and the World Wide Web, succinctly defined by Wikipedia as "a system of interlinked hypertext documents contained on the Internet." The Web is a work of genius, one of the highest achievements of the human species, whose most remarkable quality is that it was not constructed by one individual genius like Tim Berners-Lee or Steve Wozniak or Alan Kay, nor by a top-down company like Sony or IBM, but by an anarchistic confederation of largely anonymous units located (irrelevantly) all over the world. It is Project MAC writ large. Suprahumanly large. Moreover, there is not one massive central computer with lots of satellites, as in Project MAC, but a distributed network of computers of different sizes, speeds and manufacturers, a network that nobody, literally nobody, ever designed or put together, but which grew, haphazardly, organically, in a way that is not just biological but specifically ecological.
Of course there are negative aspects, but they are easily forgiven. I've already referred to the lamentable content of many chat room conversations without editorial control. The tendency to flaming rudeness is fostered by the convention — whose sociological provenance we might discuss one day — of anonymity. Insults and obscenities, to which you would not dream of signing your real name, flow gleefully from the keyboard when you are masquerading online as 'TinkyWinky' or 'FlubPoodle' or 'ArchWeasel'.
Evolutionary Biologist; Emeritus Professor of the Public Understanding of Science, Oxford; Author, The Greatest Show on Earth
NET GAIN
The post-Berners-Lee world of 2009, if we could have imagined it forty years ago, would have seemed shattering. Anybody with a cheap laptop computer, and an averagely fast WiFi connection, can enjoy the illusion of bouncing dizzily around the world in full colour, from a beach Webcam in Portugal to a chess match in Vladivostok, and Google Earth actually lets you fly the full length of the intervening landscape as if on a magic carpet. You can drop in for a chat at a virtual pub, in a virtual town whose geographical location is so irrelevant as to be literally non-existent (and the content of whose LOL-punctuated conversation, alas, is likely to be of a drivelling fatuity that insults the technology that mediates it).
'Pearls before swine' over-estimates the average chat-room conversation, but it is the pearls of hardware and software that inspire me: the Internet itself and the World Wide Web, succinctly defined by Wikipedia as "a system of interlinked hypertext documents contained on the Internet." The Web is a work of genius, one of the highest achievements of the human species, whose most remarkable quality is that it was not constructed by one individual genius like Tim Berners-Lee or Steve Wozniak or Alan Kay, nor by a top-down company like Sony or IBM, but by an anarchistic confederation of largely anonymous units located (irrelevantly) all over the world. It is Project MAC writ large. Suprahumanly large. Moreover, there is not one massive central computer with lots of satellites, as in Project MAC, but a distributed network of computers of different sizes, speeds and manufacturers, a network that nobody, literally nobody, ever designed or put together, but which grew, haphazardly, organically, in a way that is not just biological but specifically ecological.
Of course there are negative aspects, but they are easily forgiven. I've already referred to the lamentable content of many chat room conversations without editorial control. The tendency to flaming rudeness is fostered by the convention — whose sociological provenance we might discuss one day — of anonymity. Insults and obscenities, to which you would not dream of signing your real name, flow gleefully from the keyboard when you are masquerading online as 'TinkyWinky' or 'FlubPoodle' or 'ArchWeasel'.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)