What we did on our holiday

We declared a national holiday on March 27. You may have missed this. Keep up!

As is traditional on these occasions, we went to the seaside.

I remember going to Blackpool on various saints' days and liturgical milestones. The charabanc would transport us from the classic slum in Salford to the classic seaside resort. To alleviate the tedium of driving through the countryside my mother had various tricks and trucos. My favourite was looking out for the first glimpse of Blackpool Tower. Naturally enough, this could engage a competitive child from the outskirts of Preston!

We hove into Aldeburgh about noon and paid our respects to the Scallop.


Nice one Maggi
The work bears the legend:-

"I hear those voices that will not be drowned"

Amen.

On the instructions for the installation by SCDC:-

"Care should be taken when climbing on or crawling under the sculpture, and children should be carefully supervised."

Needless to say, Lady BP was off climbing and crawling before you could carefully supervise a small child!

A walk through the town and lunch.
On the way back along the prom, money changed hands and a purchase was made carefully wrapped in newspaper.

This later emerged at dinner in the form of green fish curry. Strangely enough, we had most of the ingredients to produce this on a whim. It does go rather well with the Shawsgate Bacchus, This was procured in Wickham Market. Think global, eat (and drink) local!

There should be more national holidays!

A modest proposal for trees!

Some of my best friends are trees but I would not admit to it if anyone was listening.

Concern has been expressed about the deforestation of Uganda.

"Despite these concerns, the government is considering giving away an estimated 7,000 hectares of the dense 32,000 hectares Mabira Forest Reserve, about 50km east of the capital, Kampala, to a sugar company to plant cane."

"Environmentalists said the move would disrupt Uganda's bio-mass and rainfall patterns. It would also endanger rare species and disrupt the livelihood of thousands of people living around the tropical forest."

"According to Frank Mulamuzi, destruction of part of the forest would severely impact on Lake Victoria water levels, affect rainfall patterns, disturb the eco-system and change the micro-climate."

So nothing new there then! However, we are nothing if not inventive. This mealy-mouthed eco-claptrap cut no timber with the government spokesperson who disagreed.

"This is the proper way of utilising resources,"

according to Tamale Mirundi, President Yoweri Museveni's mean green machine!

He said.

"It is easier to relocate the forest by planting trees elsewhere than to relocate a factory."

Now hold on. That gives me the germ of an idea! I see the very HN51 virus of and idea. Have we been going about this eco-business the wrong way? Could it be that all we need to do is relocate trees to somewhere less contentious and inconvenient. Bloody awkward having the Amazonian rain forest where it is. With the greatest respect to Johnny Appleseed, or whoever, I think the Caledonian Forest was a big mistake. All those subsistence farmers in their crofts, much better to have sheep, grouse and heather. It made it so much easier, eventually, to claim the subsidies!

Think of the millions to be made from the relocation of trees in the name of preserving the planet. The recycling of the displaced timber. The potential for redevelopment of prime building land. The opportunities for professionals, consultants and other mendicants to make an honest living. I feel faint at the thought. Where's the camomile?

70 million square metres for bugger all. Mmmm! 17 thousand acres and change in old money for nowt and here I am trying to take over the world on a government grant!

Anyone want to move a tree?

Many thanks to our EA correspondent in the shoes for this.

The Gentle Gardener

Once upon a time, in the foothills of the Suffolk Alps, there was a garden. The gentle gardener planted new flowers and tended the bushes and shrubs. The husband of gentle gardener (THOGG) enjoyed the garden.

The gentle gardener enhanced the peace and beauty of the garden by planting a bird table festooned with containers of nuts and seeds. The birds enjoyed this and sang for their suppers!

Sadly, the garden was invaded by rats!

The gentle gardener was concerned, but the rats had four legs rather than two and so a, benevolent, blind eye was turned to creatures small. However, the rats went forth and multiplied as rats do! They, and their brood, not only stole food meant for the birds but also attacked them and dragged them off into the bushes. This was hard for the gentle gardener.

THOGG looked on!

Killing rats, at least the 4 legged variety, was not something he had considered. To preserve the peace and beauty of the garden he was prepared to act. It is difficult to hit a rat with a blow from a pitchfork! Traps ensnared as many birds as rats. The Lord of the Manor would not approve!

THOGG considered further!

He had seen the rats climb up the bird table and down the containers of nuts and seeds to steal the food. If they were disturbed they dropped to the ground and scuttled away into the bushes.

He half filled large containers with water. There was sufficient water in the container that a rat, even a big rat, would have to swim to keep its nose above the water. There was not sufficient water in the container to enable a rat to scramble up the smooth sides and escape!

With a heavy heart THOGG arranged the containers underneath the seeds and nuts. As the rats appeared he looked on. When the rats were in a feeding frenzy he opened the window and clapped his hands together, two hands clapping. The rats fell into the containers.

The rats, who deserved respect, were consigned to the great wheel. The containers were emptied in the hedgerows.

The Ghost in the Weir

A trip yesterday to Knettishall Heath on what could be an early summer day!
Where? Go to Thetford and turn right. I beg your pardon?
TM 956806 to be precise. Now off and play with your grid references for heavens sake!

A stride up Hut Hill and a perilous traverse to Nick's Hill. As you can see, the terrain posed quite a few technical difficulties. The total elevation of the ascent of over 10 metres was achieved without recourse to oxygen. I may have acquired a few pounds but they are only half as many if you count them in kilos. I have lost none of the skill, determination and pluck that got me over the Kolhoi Glacier in a pair of sailing ducks over 25 years ago. That, however, is a tale for another time.

The descent without ropes was tricky but my nerve held and I was wise enough to rest just above base camp. So many expeditions come to grief on the way down!

A detour at the end where I discovered the Ghost in the Weir, maybe the ghost of expeditions past?

Six Nations One Family Part 3

We did enjoy the match!

Our Correspondent txts from the match, YES THE MATCH:

Lady sat next us berates England 4 not chasing kick.
Lad sat in front says
"What you gotta realise sweetheart is these guys weigh more than 15 stone, that takes a lot of moving!"

Further e-waves from East Africa drawn into the ruck, as it were, with men in thighs.

"So if Wales and Scotland clobber England and France and Italy score a shitload against Ireland the Italians could actually win it?"

As I have mentioned previously, a true sportsman does not play to win, merely to trash the Welsh.

Amen.

Daffs from Turkistan!

So what do you do after a hard morning trying to convince Messrs All and Sundry that Community Land Trusts are 'A Good Thing'?
Poke your eye out with a sharp stick!

Well, I thought I would take a trip to Anglesey Abbey.
Glad I did.

Sunny day, sweet flowers.

The elderly couple with yellow armbands were not flower police. They were friendly, really pleasant and helpful. When requested they pointed out where the flowers came from. I caught up with them later as I hurpled round. They were on a bench chatting about life, the universe and flowers in such a companionable way that I just wanted to go up to them and shake their hands for being human. A brief smile and an exchange to the effect that they were catching their breath! Glad to hear it. As if I felt they might be plotting to enrich uranium in the bowels of the Abbey. You can never be too careful. That Wisteria of Mass Destruction gets everywhere!

What a Pickle

As I roam about the village, and the land beyond, I have noticed the occasional blue tub.
They are usually discretely arranged at the edges of fields or hidden in hedges and I have never seen anyone approach them, loiter near them or cast furtive glances at them in passing.

I now think I know what they are!

A walk on a bright spring day allowed me to pass through the fields and hedgerows disguised as an ambler.

The snap above tells it all.

They are obviously industrial quantities of pickle arranged thus to avoid any one person in the neighbourhood being found in possession of such quantities. This would leave them open to the charge of supply and distribution. In this liberal day and age pickle is not the demon it once was. I believe you can purchase it in modest quantities for personal consumption, say 400grams. The street name for this quantity is jar. You may have heard the lower orders asking each other if they fancy a jar. I have heard, though, that there are dealers in the Great Wen who consume half their body weight of pickle in any 24 hour period. Well it makes sense, what else would you do with bonuses of over a million pounds and they are so close to the pickle dens of Brick Lane.

Piecing together this wicked trade I am reliably informed that it comes into the country in containers. These are unloaded in some dreadful hell hole where reputable cargoes of poor souls seeking a new life or the produce of the poppy fields of Afghanistan that we have done so much to encourage are just abandoned by the side of the road. Such is its value that the pickle is stuffed into every nook and cranny of the container. It then arrives at some port where it is waved through on a wink and a nod and the odd jar being waved under the nose of the pickle police.

I must let our local Bobby know about this. He moves around the village forever on his bicycle, but what is he doing?

Now where did I put those poppadoms?

Are you a Nobel Prize Winner or something?

So a trip to Cambridge to see Lee Smolin plug the new book -

The Trouble with Physics

I am going to order the book from the Stakhanovites at Suffolk Libraries; well worth the council tax.

A very enjoyable evening with a strange ending

You can chase the ideas up in the book yourself, I gave up teaching physics years ago. He presents the problems facing fundamental physics clearly and concisely. A great communicator and how many Quantum Gravity Physicists (QGPs) can you say that about?

Also, some wonderful throw away lines.

"Given the fact that we know little or nothing about dark matter and dark energy we currently know nothing about 96% of the physical world."

On the debates between the foundationists and pragmatists in physics :-

"Shut up and calculate."

The 5 great problems in physics and the 3 roads to quantum gravity and the 29 parameters in the standard model (you did notice the prime numbers didn't you?) slightly unsettled me.

I was momentarily charmed by the idea, advanced by Leonard Susskind, that in order to investigate the structure of matter at the Plank Length you would need an atom smasher the size of the galaxy. Lee joked?

"Lenny says the galaxy but I would check his figures. It could be the solar system."

Ouch!

I was aware of a not so hidden agenda, which I throughly approve of.

"We should organise physics so that the young are free to wander off the path."

"We need surprise."

"Get it on the table"

My kind of QGP.

I headed to to the exit and stuffed notebook, camera, Grauniad Xwd, bottle of Water into bag and zipped up coat so as to feel the benefit. I was about to limp to the car when I was accosted by a yoof. Undoubtedly, he was a physics yoof! He asked me what my name was. Fatal. I asked why he wanted to know. He asked "Are you a Nobel Prize Winner or something?"
What the hell! Weird. I thought of the prime numbers. Time to go home.

Despite what du Sautoy says, stay away from those prime numbers!

Dracula's Grave!

The Amblers have been going for 5 years. This trip was a celebration and as neophytes we were happy to bimble along in reflected glory. No spills or thrills until the end of the walk. Just before the anniversary lunch we ran across 'Dracula's Grave'.

A very astute comment from one of the group.

If they named him as a pup , how did they know he was such a terror?

Give a dog a bad name!

What Shape Are You In ?

I have been interested in Penrose Tiles for some time.

I use them in the privacy (I am an adult after all) of my own computer to generate patterns, pretty pictures if you will.

The fact that reproducing these shapes will cover all of 2D space aperiodically if it is 5 fold rotational symmetry is one of properties of these figures. Interesting, I hear you say, but what is that to do with the price of porter.

Well it seems that Your Medieval Islamic Tiler (YMIT) knew this long before I stumbled across it after reading Roger Penrose, who described their structures and their properties mathematically. Very interesting I hear you say again but what about that pint of porter. Well I have the benefit of a creaky old computer that goes boggler, boggler before carrying out rotations and translations at my command. Roger Penrose has a first class brain with the accumulated knowledge of centuries of mathematicians and physicists at his disposal.

YMIT would have been blessed with a straight edge, a protractor and bits of string. Oh and I suppose the odd tea break with the benefit of a fag with heaven knows what in it.

Do have a look at the pictures!