More classic Python

What can you say? Scientifically accurate and funny.

Fuel cell musings

Being a climate change ‘denier’ does not mean one is blind to the world and it’s workings. To be honest the opposite is more accurate. I see the insanity and repeated panics unravel before my startled eyes and can only stare gape mouthed in amazement at the self-delusion going on in the world. It seems that some folk only operate when they’re having the knickers scared off them unnecessarily. More sinister are those doing the scaring. They are the people we need to examine most closely and believe least.

Me, I don’t like being worried all the time. A constant level of extreme anxiety has long-term health implications, which turn the fatal disease called life into a less than pleasant experience. Do we have to pass the time between birth and death in a persistent state of unhappiness? Bollocks to that. I may be a grumpy old cove, but under this stoic crusty exterior beats the heart of a playful, childlike, psychopathic monster. Well, not really, but the playful thing is true enough. Life should not be a veil of tears, and anyone who tells you otherwise is a hound, a bastard and a liar.

For myself, I like to take a good long look at any problematic situation, then see what I can do towards fixing it or ameliorating its effects. My first question however is always; how much of a problem is it? Followed quickly by; can I adapt and develop workarounds? How practical are my solutions? To argue by analogy; is there really a bear in my yard? Is he preventing me going about my daily business? If so, how can I get him to leave? Will he just wander off when he gets bored if I wait long enough? Can I borrow my neighbours shotgun should the need arise? What will I say to the Wildlife Officer when he finds me the possessor of a new bearskin rug?

Bearing this life attitude in mind, Wife and I have long held the ambition of disappearing out into the boonies to create our own little paradise far from the madding crowd and I believe this is eminently possible without giving up the comforts of technology like heat and light. A fuel cell solution seems a far more workable solution than inefficient Solar or Wind power.

Put succinctly; from hard experience I know what it is like to be cold, miserable and hungry and you can stuff that life experience where the sun shineth not. Just because some bozo politicians (and intellectually challenged followers) think global Armageddon will occur because Earth got a little warmer for a few decades, and that we as a species were / are wholly at fault, I see no good reasons to be hitched to their economic kamikaze wagon and give up stuff I like on their control freak agenda. In the words of the prophet, fuck that for a game of soldiers.

There is also a body of opinion that says because of the coming energy crisis we should all embrace vegetarianism. No thanks say I, vegetarianism is a flaccid, lifeless creed, and I prefer good old stick to your ribs meat stews cuisine as well as lighter foods when it is warmer. A healthy diet is a mixed diet, and as for low fat, has anyone ever heard of fat-soluble vitamins? Although you don’t need much Vitamin A, D, E & K on a day to day basis, a diet deficient in these essential nutrients can prove debilitating, and artificial supplements are too bloody expensive and possibly even harmful.

In addition I am also getting lazy in my frail dotage (Frail? Hah! Says Wife) and want to do the least work for the most results. To work smarter, not harder is my credo. I’m not the sylph like athlete that I was at 23. No more chopping logs in the freezing cold for me. That's a mugs game although jolly good exercise on occasion and something to take your mind off things.

Thus it is I have been doing some proverbial back-of-a-fag-packet calculations regarding the energy requirements of a five or ten acre smallholding, considering the landscaping and drainage work required to provide a residence that will feed me and mine (Up to an extended family of 15) in comfort if the rest of the world wants to take itself to hell in an economic handbasket. Not that economic meltdown will happen long term, but I am getting older and have come to enjoy the comforts of hot running water, light for reading, and good fresh food well cooked. Energy poverty is not going to be an active phrase in my families lexicon thank you.

The elements of process are relatively simple. First you require a water source, a well or spring is good, then a small electrolysis device for breaking the water down into its component molecules with a compressor for the collected hydrogen, and a vent for the excess oxygen. The hydrogen tank works as a buffer for the fuel cell, which by the process of combustion and integral generator creates energy and waste water which gets vented into a storage tank for later use. The energy thus created is sent via a converter to the rest of the house and grounds, providing power for the whole domestic complex. The only problem appears to be what to do with the surplus electricity if you’re living ‘off the grid’. I’m sure we’ll think of something. That and a ground source heat pump should keep us appropriately toasty or well chilled for quite a number of years. One of our neighbours has one and had to build a swimming pool and king-size Jacuzzi in their basement to soak up all the excess heat. That sounds good to me.

Well whaddaya know?

Your result for The Perception Personality Image Test...

HFPS - The Humanitarian

You perceive the world with particular attention to humanity. You focus on what's in front of you (the foreground) and how that fits into the larger picture. You are also particularly drawn towards the shapes around you. Because of the value you place on humanity, you tend to seek out other people and get energized by being around others. You like to deal directly with whatever comes your way without dealing with speculating possibilities or outcomes you can't control. You are in tune with all that is around you and understand your life as part of a larger whole. You prefer a structured environment within which to live and you like things to be predictable.

The Perception Personality Types:

Take The Perception Personality Image Test at HelloQuizzy

I think I'll go and see this one...

....if of course it gets screened up here. Failing that, a trip to Seattle might be in order.

You see something new every day

Yesterday's novelty was watching a log boom do a U-turn in the narrowest part of Dodd Narrows at low tide. Was walking Dog in the morning and noted the amount of boat traffic going north. Around here it's usually so quiet at this time of year that five boats passing through the channel is rush hour. I counted eight, plus a log boom being chugged north by one of the ever busy tugs. At first, the tug kept to the far side of the channel by Mudge Island, letting the other traffic go past. As it got level with Joan Point something odd appeared to happen. A blue hulled sailing yacht, a fifteen metre boat with two masts which had been following the seventy five metre long boom had to stop and go backwards.

Being a curious sort, I ambled up the foreshore and took a look at what was going on, having a quiet curse for not having brought binoculars for once. Damn me if the tug was now facing south at the 'wrong' end of the boom, it had turned south where the channel is less than a hundred metres wide. The blue hulled boat was moving backwards under power. For ten long minutes I watched the tug shunt and heave at the hundred or so tons of logs blocking the channel until it had the front of the boom facing south. Then, with a creak from the towing cables that I thought heralded the break up of the corral of heavy floating timber, the tug began the arduous job of turning the boom north again. Still at low tide, still at the narrowest part of Dodd Narrows. Another ten minutes and two boats from the direction of Duke point came south on the relatively shallow side of the channel closest to Joan Point, then the blue hulled yacht and two other boats headed north towards Nanaimo. The tug and it's log boom were snugged close to the deeper side of the channel next to Mudge Island, just holding steady with the current.

Other stuff include our two resident pairs of Bald Eagles are back hunting with a vengeance. Early morning and late afternoon is the best time to see them hunt, dive bombing the surface and coming away with a struggling silver form in their talons. These guys are big too, full grown specimens with well over two metre wingspans. Their droppings can be found all along the foreshore.

On a more sombre note, I notice that Wikipedia is infested by people who don't care about accuracy, only putting forward their own world view. A piece in the National Post (see Wikipedia's Zealots) I learned about from Small Dead Animals outlined the difficulty of updating the terribly useful online resource, when your entries could be deleted at will by someone with a political agenda. There's an Information War going on. A propaganda machine that Goebbels would have been proud of is perpetuating it's own view with a complete disregard for accuracy. They are intelligent, they are organised, they are funded, they are committed, and they frighten the socks off me. What is their real agenda? It isn't truth, and that's a fact.

This does not alter the fact that there is still snow on the top of Mount Benson, and at the current rate of decrease, it may stay there for at least another week or two, the longest in anecdotal memory. People have noticed against the avalanche of pro warming propaganda, and are guiltily mentioning it like they are speaking heresy just before the next scheduled Auto da fe. During a haircut yesterday, my Barber raised the subject. My workmates have noticed. Our friends on the island have noticed. The heat death of the universe is not upon us, and they openly wonder what all the fuss is about.

Day off

Nice day yesterday. Took the ten minute ferry ride over to Protection Island and had a very pleasant late lunch at the Dinghy Dock pub. Walked it off wandering round the island, and looking at all the different houses lurking amongst the trees. There's a very off beat vibe, Island residents mostly get about the gravel roads on golf carts which they use as runabouts. One even had his own sea plane, with an ingenious launch vehicle. Notwithstanding all the place names being on a pirate theme, various road names being Pirates Lane, Cutlass Lookout, Captain Kidds Terrace etc. No doubt this was all the brainchild of Nanaimos eccentric Mayor Frank James Ney (A.K.A. 'Black Frank') who was also credited with being a prime promoter of the Nanaimo to Vancouver Bathtub race. We missed last years race, but hope to follow it in 2008. Frank, an ex pilot, died in 1992. I think I would have liked him. The world is a poorer place without people of his character.

Wife was bowled over by the log built homes we saw there (She's always wanted one) and vouchsafed "Promise me Jones, when we build our house, it's got to have a sea view."
"I'm good with that." I replied, but then I can be good at giving out promises when I haven't a clue how I'll deliver. All I know is that the promise will be delivered, though hell itself should bar the way. I'm like that. I haven't failed yet. Nor will I.

Bloke-lit

Wonder if there's a literary market for 'bloke-lit'? Stories based around real life that address the mores and instincts of the average male. Where the girls have near-real life tales of sex, shopping, stress, and chocolate; maybe the guys could have something about what goes on in their near-real lives. Sexual frustration, demanding partners, loathing of shopping, male bonding rituals and receding hairlines?

Is there a whole new genre out there? On the chance that there is, I'm toying with a tale I'm calling the 'odd machine' about how a strange family heirloom helps trigger all sorts of unforseen events. The main project is bumbling and stumbling along, and is due for it's first major surgery shortly.

Arresting experiences and shore walking

Yesterday Wife and I were out shopping. As we came out of the car park we saw a bald headed man in his late forties on the ground to the rear of a battered old white Lincoln. A younger guy with short brown hair had hold of his arms. Both in everyday street clothes.

Wife and I, being the kind of people we are, naturally assumed that the older man was having some kind of siezure and the younger man was trying to help him, so we both headed towards them to render assistance. As Wife got within ten metres I noticed that the older man was not in spasm, he was struggling with the younger man. "Step back love." I called Wife back as we had obviously fallen witness to an arrest and didn't want to piss off the local RCMP plain clothes people. We stepped away and watched the older mans arms pushed firmly behind his back and the cuffs snapped on. Another plain clothes man arrived and together they ensured the older man was hefted to his feet and shepherded off to the local nick. No punches, no kicks, no guns, threats or Tazers, just a little judicious Judo type hold and the supposed malefactor was hauled off in chains, despite quite a bit of swearing on his part.

Today was not so full of drama. Having looked at the budget and decided that the purchase of a new camera is going to have to wait until next payday, we instead took a wander down to a pub that has been highly recommended by our friends. It was like stepping through a space warp into the pubs I spent a goodly portion of my mis-spent youth in. Heavy dark beams and age yellowed ceiling. Beermats and memorabilia pinned up all over the walls, just a bit tidier and less careworn. The Guinness wasn't bad either, served just the way I like it, slightly below room temperature, not chilled. Well 'kept' too, with that dry hoppy flavour I like. I could get used to that.

Upon our return home, Wife had the sitting room changed around, and I retuned the TV to one of the analogue stations before taking Dog out to hunt around the inter tidal zone.

At the time of writing, most of the inter tidal stretches of shoreline are coated in a granular coat of Herring roe. Anywhere there is sea grass or any other form of sea weed it looks like it is heavily coated in coarse brown sugar. Despite the fishing boats having gone, there is still enough Herring out there to keep at least eight sea lions busy on our side of the Narrows alone. I watched one feeding less than forty feet away, gulping and snorting down fish after fish until he (she?) stopped and saw me watching him (her?). After a lazy pause the Sea Lion dived and swam off to haunt other nadirs. Like most sensible creatures, I don't suppose they like being watched eating any more than I do just in case some pedant sees fit to criticise your manners.

Bald Eagles all over the place still. Dozens of them down by the low water mark. At least ten perched in the the branches of the local waterfront Fir trees in a three hundred metre stretch. I stopped at one point and spooked four from a tree directly overhead, less than twelve metres above me by accident. The Gulls don't seem to mind having these big winged raptors hanging around, there are huge rafts of seabirds sitting out in the Narrows, occasionally taking a leisurely dive below the water in search of an easy feed. Everything around here seems just so all fired unhurried.

Had a chat with one of my neighbours whose property overlooks the water. Turns out that even those who have been here on the Island ten years or more haven't seen anything like it. Conversations with people born here have turned up more or less the same story. Herring have been reported as being sold for five dollars a bucketful in Nanaimo they are so plentiful.

As for me, I am waiting for the first of April to get my years fishing permit. If the Herring run has been this good, the Salmon will be even better. The 'springs' are plentiful in Ladysmith right now, and that bodes well for bagging a few salmon over next month. I just hope our Freezer is big enough to hold my limit, or that Wife doesn't start pulling a face and saying "Not Salmon again!" when I return with my catch.

Working boats

Feeling a bit sorry for myself after a visit to the Dentist, so took an amble across the road to take a peek at what the boats were up to. There's still quite a few in the Narrows, but there are more in the lee of Round Island, and the smaller feeder boats are working both sides of the channel, within 20-30 metres of the shore.
The Gulls are sitting on the water like so many flakes of snow, mostly too full of fish to move much. Just marking time above the shoals of Herring still in the channel. Larger predators herd the shoals, leaving V shaped ripples as they come close to the surface, which isn't difficult, given the relatively shallow water.
I had a stroke of luck and got these rather low quality pictures with my rather old and shaky digital camera of a boat similar to the one I described previously. In the first picture, the crew snag one of the buoys supporting a Gill net.
In the second picture they are sliding the nets over the wheelhouse so that the top and bottom run over either end of the rotating paddles.
In the third shot the paddles are stalled because something big and predatory has gone through the net mesh and left a three metre wide hole. To the guys working the boat this wasn't a problem, they seemed to be having a little fun as they worked up and down the nets. Pretty chill down there, even in the afternoon sun, yet one of the lads in the stern of the boat pictured took time to strip off buck naked and change into his waterproofs. Either that or I was being mooned. No matter, it's a young mans game down there, and fooling around keeps you warm.

Note: There are three or four variants of this type of boat. All around the same shape and size hull, but I noted one which worked bow to stern with shorter, mesh type paddles as opposed from right to left with the big paddles like on the boat pictured.

Herring run

Down south of Nanaimo this afternoon there is a Herring run in progress. Forty plus commercial fishing boats are busily netting and long lining for all they are worth. I could clearly see and hear all the activity down in the Narrows from my kitchen window as seen below.

The sea by the western edge of Mudge Island, all the way down to Link and Round Island is a pale pastel milky green band rich with Herring roe. Long slicks of Roe and spawn leave fifty metre long trails of white surface scum on the surface of the water, spreading along the current lines. The Harbour Patrol, in a small cabin cruiser with an outsize outboard motor are out checking fishing licences. Even a senior couple in a small white dinghy who have brought out their rods and lines to see what they can catch.

Gulls sit on the water, too gorged to move, while the local Bald Eagles swoop lazily in a perfect blue sky, looking for the odd careless salmon feeding on the glut of Herring.

In and under the water, massive shoals clearly visible, are buffeted and herded by several Sea Lions, their three and a half metre long pale brown bodies clearly visible from our vantage point above. As the Sea Lions moved down southwards, two Common Seals took their place, feeding in a leisurely fashion.

On the other side of Mudge, someone is blasting. Each heavy thump, sounding like heavy logs sharply hitting concrete from this distance, is heralded by a number of toots from one of those little compressed gas horns, and followed by one longer morselike dash sound. Toot-toot-toot-toot-toot (Bam) toooot. Dog is currently trying to hide under my chair. Poor animal. He does so hate the noise.

Despite all the blasting, fishing boats are coming and then leaving an hour or so later, their bare alloy hulls riding visibly lower in the water as they struggle up the narrows against the flooding tide. The run continues. For hours, maybe a day. Then all the excitement will die down. Until the next Herring or Salmon run comes to Dodds Narrows.

There is warmth in the early March Sun, the breezes are soft and forgiving for this time of year. I live in a small piece of Paradise.

How things begin

A bit chilly and damp at the moment after two gloriously sunny but cold days. It's a bit more like an English winter at the moment here on my bit of Vancouver Island. Drizzle and damp.

Dog gave me cause for amusement last night. We were taking our usual perambulation through the woods when a Deer spooked nearby. Much to my amazement, instead of running for home as he usually does, Dog up and chased the Deer with much woofing and bouncing before returning to me a few moments later with ears and tail decidedly in the up position. Made a big fuss of my chickenhearted mutt because I feel he needs a little confidence boost like that every now and again, and I'm happy that he still has a little heart in him. I hate to see him cowering at every strange noise. I feel responsible somehow.

Dissimilarly; was walking through downtown Nanaimo earlier on today and picked up some details of a local short story competition. On the drive back home I was thinking about whether to enter or not when I passed the sign for the Jolly Miner pub just off the downtown section of the island highway. A song that was played a lot on the home service when I was very little popped up from the jukebox in my head "Big John". A little imagination later from my mental card index of character traits and the story arrived complete in my head. I could even see and hear the characters in my minds eye.

Well, I'd better get researching and writing. Tie it in with a couple of current news items.

Another scare story

Dihydrogen monoxide:

• is called "hydroxyl acid", the substance is the major component of acid rain.
• contributes to the "greenhouse effect".
• may cause severe burns.
• contributes to the erosion of our natural landscape.
• accelerates corrosion and rusting of many metals.
• may cause electrical failures and decreased effectiveness of automobile brakes.
• has been found in excised tumors of terminal cancer patients.
• Despite the danger, dihydrogen monoxide is often used:
• as an industrial solvent and coolant.
• in nuclear power plants.
• in the production of styrofoam.
• as a fire retardant.
• in many forms of cruel animal research.
• in the distribution of pesticides. Even after washing, produce remains contaminated by this chemical.
• as an additive in many "junk-foods" and other food products.

Reference Here

Dynamite stuff

Wrenched my back a little yesterday shifting kit into my shed. The pain made me postpone a meeting with one of my volunteers today and generally feel sorry for myself all last night. Precious little sleep was had, and I found myself seeking the solace of the floor at three in the morning because my bed was too soft.

Went to the local Pharmacy and bought a tube of this stuff. Got home and rubbed a generous wodge into the affected area. Ten seconds later I can stand up straight again! Seriously impressive.

On the way out of the store we could see the sunset painting the mainland snowcapped mountains a shade of dusky cerise. "Wow. Pink mountains." Vouchsafed Wife.
"Well, that is Vancouver over there." I rejoindered.
"You, Jones, are too cheeky by half." Wife chortled.
"True."

Per ardua, ad astra

A couple of items of news have come to pass in the last month or two that have quite piqued my interest. First was the E8 'Theory of Everything' postulated by 'surfer dude' physicist A Garrett Lisi. Second was the news of 'First Plasma' on the WB-7 experimental fusion reactor.

Seen in isolation, these two pieces of news might elicit a "so what?" response from the unenlightened. "So what?" Mr / Ms A. Verage might say. "How do a theory of everything and method of attaining Nuclear Fusion fix my leaky tap / calm my raucous kids / lower my rising fuel bills / sack a corrupt politician?" Might be their response. The simple answer is it doesn't, so any debate generated by such a discovery might not be the one A. Verage should be bothered with.

Garrett Lisi's 'exceptionally simple' theory postulates that the interrelationships between energy, matter, gravity, and how it all fits together can be plotted using a single geometric 'map'. His model has come under fire from some grumpy 'String theory' physicists who might be a bit miffed that his theory might work better than theirs, and are a bit jealous of the publicity his theory has attracted. It may even be that String Theory physics can find a common thread (Bad pun, sorry) within the E8 model. However, that is a postulation all of it's own. By Lisi's own admission, the theory is 'young', and 'all or nothing' and 'requires work'. According to some sources, when the Large Hadron collider comes into operation, certain aspects of Lisi's theory can be tested against the results.

The news about the 'Polywell' reactor design is interesting because it may be able to produce the long sought after result of a workable Nuclear Fusion generator. Not only that, but a Fusion Generator small enough not to require a fixed location. In short, something that can put out enough power (Megawatts as opposed to Kilowatts of power) to make something like a Magnetoplasmadynamic thruster work for example. With enough cheap power, there is the potential for more economic spaceflight, more chance of actually attaining the velocities needed to take mankind to the stars. In addition, E8 theory might even provide one of the keys which could unlock the secret of Faster than Light travel.

Of course both E8 theory and the Polywell Fusion device might turn out to be one massively disappointing damp squib; or the politicians, in order to placate the squabbling masses of our crowded little planet, might argue that we should solve all of Earth's problems (As if that were likely) before even thinking of travelling to the Stars and cut the funding.

For myself, I remain optimistic and feel that there is much going on worth being sanguine about in the world of Physics. I will not go to the stars, being too old and farty, but my grandchildren might; and that will be something worth looking forward to.

Interesting stuff

Browsing around yesterday, I found the news via the Devils Kitchen an item of great import. Especially, if you actually give a monkeys about the future of civilisation, even though viewing it with a severely jaundiced eye.

The latest prototype of the late, great Dr Robert Bussards team, now led by Dr Richard Nebel, has attained 'first plasma', one of the steps on the road to practical nuclear fusion. The WB-7 is actually making progress, as opposed to the false alarms in the 1980's over 'Cold fusion', and the continued lack of success by mega funded projects such as the Tokamak based approach by ITER.

The only front line web source seems to be run by a Mr M Simon from Illinois, as in the main, the newspapers haven't picked up on it. Not that they would, the current state of the news is way below their celebrity obsessed radar. It's not dramatic enough; although, fair's fair, there have been so many false alarms over the years, and Nuclear Fusion has been such a damp squib apart from the H-Bomb, that 'it ain't news'.

If it were true, and the Polywell based Hydrogen-Boron Fusion device does work, then cheap plentiful energy will be the future. Although this may displease some of the more vociferous 'Back to Earthers' who won't be happy until we're all living in caves, I'm sanguine. Energy means civilisation. Small power plants mean diversity and portability. If the ECM2 team have cracked it, then we may even have an energy source that will take us to the stars. Now that will be something.

Anyway, all this exciting news is one thing; I must do some studying on insulation values, local zoning and construction rules today. The future of Nuclear Fusion will happen whether I watch it or not.

I recycle because

I was brought up with recycling because my family has never been rich, and every penny has always counted. Kitchen waste went into the compost heap which provided compost for the soil, which fertilised the garden where we grew vegetables to eat.

Bottles went back for the deposit so we could afford some sweets or pop. Maybe a comic.

We bought meat from the butcher wrapped in greaseproof paper. We bought cheese in the same manner, cut off a larger cheese at the grocers. We generated very little waste for the bin men to collect.

I grew up with the Irish tradition of fishing and hunting 'for the pot', not for sport. Although if the fox that was in the chicken pen last night got torn to shreds by the local Hunt, I was always pretty relaxed about that, too.

Our pets earned their living too. Cats by hunting out mice and rats. The dogs kept vigil so we could sleep safe at night.

My brother and I cut logs for the fire. Dad and Mum ran businesses. Everybody in the household had chores. We did them, and even when times were tough, no one ever went hungry.

In the power cuts of the 1970's we traded cut seasoned logs for our neighbours solid fuel stove in return for borrowing their cooker. We dug snow and packed it in tin boxes in the garage when the refrigerator couldn't run because there was no power. We ate well under lamplight, and sang old comic music hall songs and Gilbert and Sullivan while Mum or Dad played the piano in candlelight.

I don't recycle because I believe what scaremongering politicians tell me. I recycle because I'm a cheap bastard and understand that people like me never let their families go hungry. Ergo I recycle, and have done since I was a child. I will continue to recycle because I despise the casual wastefulness of others, not because I have the self centred arrogance to believe that I am helping 'save the planet'. Earth can get on quite well with or without me, but I have this little habit called breathing I'm rather fond of, call me an old silly if you will.

Jam Daywalkers

Dropped Wife off to do her voluntary stuff this morning, and returned home to do some work, and see when I was going to receive the letter which would enable me to pootle off cross border, and come back to apply for a Work permit.

Heard the local Bald Eagles wheeling around, but could not photograph them as the zoom on my little digital camera is too weedy to capture their wheeling majesty. There's also a 'feature' on the wretched thing that sometimes prevents the shutter operating if it's pain in the arse little silicon chip tells it there's too much / too little light.

Mildly frustrated after a fruitless morning, I got back in our well worn old battle bus and set off to collect Wife and run a couple of errands. On my way into Cedar I was forced to brake sharply by three Peacocks crossing the road. WTF!? Peacocks? In Canada? I thought they were African or Asian, or only kept on English Country Estates or Zoos, not parading around south Vancouver Island like they owned the place. A few hundred metres later I was forced to slam on the anchors quite precipitously as a string of Quail scuttled across in front of me. Damn Jaywalkers, or as Wife spoonerised, Jam Daywalkers. What has got into the local avian population? Acute depression or something? Or are the little sods trying to frighten me into a cardiac arrest? Can't trust birds, cunning little tinkers.

After that, we returned home and I managed to get through to my new boss re the job. I asked her about the letter, which I was assured would be with me within the next week or so. As soon as I get that, Wife and I will take a wander over the border and back with all our paperwork. That done I can get cracking with the new job, and see what good I can do. I may even finish the book.

Climate change bitch fight

Being an outdoor sort, I'm a keen observer of the Birds and beasts of the field. No sign of our local Deer herd, the Bald Eagles, or the Sea Lions, so I just sat me down to write and browse through my list of favourite blogs and web sites.

After a thousand words or so, I took a break and pootled over to Mr Eugenides to see what his latest amusing rant was about. Took a few minutes out to comment that all this Anthropogenic Global Warming was, at the latest reports inference, more likely to end up as a global cooling, only to get a little scorched by a flame from a person who, on the scantiest of evidence, called me an ignorant so and so. He obviously didn't like what I had written, and posted a couple of hundred words of pretty ill founded invective against my good self for saying I thought that AGW is a bit of a con. I took it in good part, and in a return post observed that if we could stretch the dog analogy a little, I was not so much a "British Bulldog" as a Border Collie, or sheepdog. Also that I was a 'Practicing Environmentalist' and habitual recycler rather than some short sighted Colonel Blimp, as he inferred.

Shortly afterwards I googled "Climate Sceptic" and found site after site, and post after post devoted to the subject of how to 'deal with' those who spoke out against the political dogma of Human Centred Climate Change. To be honest it was a sobering experience. Previously I had no idea of the propaganda campaign being waged against such doubters as myself by the 'believers'. For propaganda is what it is, because it makes little room for honest doubt or discussion of the evidence. The sheer unthinking zealotry of the pro AGW camp left me a little unsettled. They accept the dogma of anthropogenic climate change unquestioningly, which appears to have taken the place of religion for them. It's very sad for them. Maybe they should go out and get lives instead. Perhaps we could do a Golgafrincham 'B' Ark on them. Now that really would be an environmentally useful solution. Although we could do without the telephonically transmitted disease.

At least I'm worth something

Sunny day out in the Narrows, lots of log debris out there espied through my new binoculars. Not much sign of the local wildlife. After yesterdays little exertion, even Dog is refusing to get up and go. As for me, I've been pootling, waiting for contact from my new employer re a start date.

Apart from editing the MSS, I browsed by a couple of UK web sites and found this via the Devils Kitchen. Nice to know that Wife could get a few months rent out of my corpse should she need to.
$4225.00The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth.

Who am I?

I love these quizzes. Apparently I have a similar psychological profile to this character. Now all I have to do is start a war, shag an alien hybrid, get killed, then come back to life again. I'd forgotten how much better Babylon 5 was than Star Trek. Better characters, less preachy, better dialogue, broader story arc and all that jazz. One day I hope to rival J Michael Straczynsky's epic.

Hi ho. The festive season is upon us, and I'm getting absolutely no work done at all.