One of my unwritten rules for 365 has been that each day's photo must have been taken that day. In the past this has meant some not so great photos have gone up while other, better, shots have missed out (more on that coming in a later review post). I failed to take anything on the 15 December though, so I've had to break my own rule. The question (once I'd gotten over the mild disappointment of the realisation) was what to do? I did consider digging back for a photo from that date in a previous year but a quick search revealed that's never been a popular day for me to snap away (i.e. I couldn't find one). I also very briefly considered faking up the date-times of something but that would only be cheating myself. In the end I went for something from the "365 archives", a shot I liked but hadn't made it for that day. The chosen photo would probably have made been used if I hadn't already got one with the gorillas in it a short time before, and I had another photo from the day in question I quite liked. Anyway, it's in the series now, and seemed the best solution I could come up with.

The original draft of this post now talked about how there were only three more photos to go. Well, due to more normal tardiness, that isn't so. I've done Project 365, January 21 2011 to January 20 2012. So, the question becomes, will I keep going? Well, it is a leap year, which has pushed me over the edge---so Project 366 is ongoing. I'm going to be a bit more lax about my own rules this time round though---I'm not necessarily going to use a photo from that day (which means I don't have to take something (anything!) each day. I'll aim to keep this "cheating" to a minimum though, maybe about one a week, so as to keep up the pressure to practice shooting. And I'm not going to worry quite so much about repeating subjects (especially subjects from Project 365). Oh, and there's a new camera! While I'll continue to carry around the little Canon Powershot SX 130 IS there's now a Canon 1100D DSLR in the mix :-D

I'll probably say a bit more in the promised post to come (whenever that appears!) but for now, I'm done :-)

Christmas day my dad came over and Jan and I actually cooked christmas dinner. Given this was a first for either of us I think we did quite well. What we ended up with certainly looked dinner like and nobody got poisoned, so pretty good all round. Dad went home just in time for the obvious highlight of christmas, < a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/doctorwho" title="Doctor who">Doctor Who.

Christmas dinner does feel like about all we cooked though---seem to have eaten out a lot, while doing post christmas shopping (the pixie got me a coat, and a jacket) or just wandering around. All that stress had taken the desire to try our own hand in the kitchen out of us.

One of the things we finally got round to seeing The Turner Prize at the Baltic. I have to say something about the Baltic's organisation of this, which seemed a bit chaotic. The queue for the Turner was directed outside, down the side of the building (which on a very windy day such as when we visited was no fun---we struggled to actually make the entrance). We were intercepted and directed there by the solitary member of staff on duty for such things, but there didn't seem to be even the simplest of signage (well, I didn't notice any; and if it is noticeable, it's a bit pointless). Once in the right place there was a steady trickle of people arriving from inside the other areas of the Baltic, obviously unaware of the arrangements (and why not; they might want to see the rest. Also, I had to move the rope barriers for some of them to come and join the queue as the staff seemed to be ignoring them---pretty poor!) Further, there was no warning of the further, long, queue one could expect once up the dedicated lift. I can understand the need for some crowd control but given how much of a flagship event this was for Baltic the overall impression was pretty bad :-(. The exhibition itself was hit and miss, though Jan and I agreed George Shaw's paintings were good; an almost surreal photographic quality.

In a different artistic mode we also saw The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. We agreed it was OK, though a little obvious and too long (it seems that story needs some serious editing---there was a half hour at the end that had nothing to do with the main movie and you'd think the whole thing could be a bit tighter). Probably good enough to see the next one if they can keep the running time down (as an aside, how complicated can a self-service ticket machine at a cinema be?? The Odeon at the Metrocentre seemed to ask about six million questions when all I wanted was two tickets---that's after I'd traversed figuring out what to press for a particular film and time and day).

Not a lot else happened to be honest. Spent New Year's Eve in the traditional manner of watching Jools Holland while drinking Southern Comfort/Jack Daniels. Cleared out a wardrobe of clothes. Tickled the cats. Came back to work.

Happy 2012!

I've been thinking about Demba Ba and Cheick Tiote's absence at the Africa Cup of Nations. While Ba is obviously a huge miss the one thing a team needs when they might be struggling to score goals is not to be letting them in at the other end. Which brings us to Tiote. I've just sat down while waiting for dinner to cook and taken at our goals conceded record both with and without the man in midfield. By my reckoning (not double checked, based on nufc.com match reports, league only, assumes a match is 90 minutes), we've played 14 matches (barring 8 minutes when he was subbed off) with Tiote and 6 without. Without him we've conceded 13 goals, with him one less at 12. That equates to a goal against every 104 minutes while Cheick is on the pitch (i.e. less than one per game) compared with one every 42 minutes (i.e. one per half!) without him.

Of course like all such analysis there a many things neglected (strength of opposition faced, form and availability of the rest of the team, etc) but I still think it goes to show how important he is defensively. We need to keep tight for those harder to come by goals to count!

[And for anyone actually wondering what the quoted Aitken Head was on about in the original article it's a reference to the idea that if you cut him open he'd "bleed black and white blood". Basically he's trying to get across the passion and feeling involved, as well as how deep seated some things are.]

Incidentally, this isn't the first letter of mine published. The first, long ago, doesn't seem to have gotten a mention here.

Really it does seem that its an area in complete stagnation. I'd have paid a bit more for something a little bit cooler (despite how little I use the landline for actual telephony) but I wasn't given the chance.

Full disclosure: Amazon did turn up this Binatone thing (which reviews suggested was way under powered) and a quick google just now found this from Archos, which looks a bit nicer. Really though, I don't necessarily want something on the scale of Android, just something better than what is out there.

Coming out of Great Yarmouth station we were struck by the number of taxis. Turns out this may have something to do with the fact that despite billing itself as a convenient seaside resort the station is actually quite a walk from the sea. Not knowing this though we headed off, through the delightful industrial estate. Quite a few of the units around there don't seem to want to quite say what they are either, leaving us playing a game of Norman's Blank.

Finally civilisation appeared in the form of a market. This was actually quite normal and seemed pretty decent. We didn't linger though, being eager to head on to the sea. We did get tempted into a pub though, and that's where it began...

Wetherspoons

The Troll Cart. Oh my (note, this may be one of those you had to be there things, but still. Oh my). I barely know where to begin. Shall we start with those, including staff, who looked like they'd been trapped in the 1970s? We could but perhaps we should start with taking a window seat and seeing the taxi rank outside. With the taxi driver who looked so much like a serial killer I'd have had to be pretty desperate to get in his cab. He had the look, the eyes. At one point he brought out a drink; had it been a can of special brew, I wouldn't have been that surprised (if you want the general feel, think Royston Vasey style here).

There was a woman wandering around collecting what looked like those colouring in paper things or were maybe just menus, over and over. There was the guy with shirt open to hairy chest in true '70s porn star style. And passed the window went an old lady pushing a wheeled shopping bag ahead of her---which would have been unremarkable except she was sprinting.

The Shops

We had to get out, for the sake of our sanity. So we headed down the long pedestrian street with the sea at the bottom. And I have never in a long time been surrounded by such tack. I understand that it was pretty much the off season but still there was an eerie emptiness to shop after shop of crap with virtually no one in them. The "House of Wax" with unidentifiable figures outside, and the bizarre "statue" of someone vomiting into a bucket outside the "joke" shop justed added to the atmosphere. We did buy a mushroom garden ornament from one of the shops though, with was damn cheap, so there you go. It was really quite a relief to reach the beach and peer, at least briefly.

The Pier and Beach

Janet was getting quite excited at the thought of the peer and "rides"; I think she was thinking Brighton, or Blackpool (or other seaside resorts beginning with B?). Had the rides here actually been open they would have been, er, disappointing, unless a carousel and the excitement of the giant slide is your thing. And through the still emptiness played awful music. To escape we headed down to the beach, which it must be said is actually nice enough. Still, strangeness. As we paused to look at sand and sea we noted a man stood, holding his shoes, staring at the horizon. It may have been the influence of what we'd already seen but he looked for all the world like he was contemplating if he should simply walk into the waves until they claimed him.

For some reason this inspired the pixie to go for a splodge. So off came shoes and tights and away paddling she went. Once in the water though she begin to sink into the ground, and came screaming out. I'm not that silly but that was enough of the beach, and time for lunch.

Lunch

Having walked along the beach a bit and then back up to the main road we found the Marina pub. After the experience of the Troll Cart this was relatively normal. All they did was produce a can of Strongbow when Jan asked if they served it. The menu seemed pretty good and when the food arrived the portions were pretty damned hearty, and tasty. Refreshed and filled we decided not to build sandcastles but head along the beachside road and then back up away from the sea. And of course, back to the Troll Cart...

An Old Man and The Return of the Troll Cart

First though, I should mention the old man outside the shopping centre just across from the Troll Cart. I say old, I would have though 70--80, but it could be the sea air. He had a speaker and microphone and a little portable radio/CD player. And on one hand some sort of strange, furry puppet (I presume a puppet; it looked more like a furry mess). He proceeded to "sing" Abba, and "dance" in a jerking, strings broken kind of way. Everyone carried on normally around him, like nothing was out the ordinary. This is normal for Great Yarmouth.

Anyway, on our return to the most entertaining of pubs, there was another serial killer; a Charles Bronson look-a-like at a table further down. At another table a man not talking but singing to himself. And the man with the strange way of gulping at his pint, seemingly from half way across the opening of the glass, possibly to keep his tash dry. And then there were the characters. One put me in mind of Boss Hogg, though he wasn't in white. As he passed down the not inconsiderable length of the pub, he stopped and paused, making what looked like a shushing gesture to no-one in particular, before continuing.

Then there was Duke Nukem who, well, looked like the character. He must have had bubble gum though, because he wasn't kicking ass. And the woman with bright red hair. And the social club scene by the windows. As we'd secured another window seat we were also able to look out, and see the school girls waving to traffic. The whole thing was obviously affecting Jan, who asked why people were queuing outside---at the bus station. There may even have been some sort of speed dating at the tables outside the windows.

We couldn't stay any longer; we bolted for that station. The train home had more giggling teenage girls, flirting with some boys they'd met, but at least the madness was being left behind

So Great Yarmouth. It's a day out all right.

A late September return to Norfolk (mainly Norwich but a trip to the coast included). Jan and I were there mainly to see Dave Gorman. but we fitted a bit more pottering around in. Day by day ramblings follow.

We started pretty much as last time, wandering from the station via the Compleat Angler (which had awful music and two mackems at the time) up the hill to the main part of town. There we were foiled in our plan to do as last time and sit a while in the Sir Garnet Wolseley next to the market as it seems to be closed :-(. The market was open however, despite it not being Thursday (why Janet momentarily thought the market would only be on a Thursday was later beyond us, especially as we'd been there on other days before). Instead we had to head for the Murderers (or Gardner's Arms if you prefer). At least they too have tables outside, complete with numerous signs warning that if you have a drink you must sit at one of those tables.

After a bit of a relax we wandered round and then headed further afield, ending up in the slightly boring but conveniently on a corner Delaney's. There we had what was perhaps a hint of the strangeness to come later. Sitting quietly supping a pint I observed a man crossing the street outside, holding aloft an umbrella (note that we were blessed all week with lovely weather, and it was sunny and warm). As he passed out of sight behind traffic for a moment he simply vanished. He didn't re-emerge, there was nowhere obvious for him to have gone. Spooky.

We also found the Belgium Monk which has a wide selection of stupidly overpriced and over strong beers it will only sell halves of. Hmm. At least the Ribs of Beef was as nice as we remembered :-)

After a bit more wandering we eventually wound our way to accommodation, the same place as last time, though a different apartment within that building. After a bit of a rest we headed off for food, and couldn't resist a return visit to the excellent Figaro's. More Funghi Al Figaro and meatballs. This time I had that Antony's Portion for desert.

Wandering home later that night we ended up in a pub who's name unfortunately escapes me. There I became the font of football knowledge with updates on Norwich beating the mackems (hence the two in the Angler earlier). This despite the fact that the pub was the least Norwich fan populated place, with gooners and others. In the end I ended up helping to push a random blokes car before we headed for sleep.

Tuesday

Tuesday was our first proper day, so we headed out in the bright sunshine with a spring in our step. Unfortunately Jan was feeling a little zoned out (I blame multiple orgasms---but then I would) so we took things steady going into town. The upside of that was we found a nice little place to have tea down Upper St Giles Street (unfortunately I have no idea what it was called, despite having been there each morning! Run by a lovely foreign young lady). The tea I'm told was good and I can testify the coffee is perfectly drinkable. Lovely atmosphere with Classic FM. The food being eaten at another table looked quite good too, and the cakes in the window (which I somehow resisted) looked pretty nice!

Anyway, Jan had something of a tea thirst so we also ended up in the Copper Kettle. Nowhere near as good, which was a pity. More an average greasy spoon than the relaxing St Giles cafe---though at least we could debate the commonality of the name Copper Kettle. With a day to kill we headed off for a stroll around the river. It's as pleasant as I remember, despite my wandering down what turned out to be a dead end and the long diversion through some corporate car parks. Of course the stroll give us the chance to sample some of the pubs along the way. The Red Lion was particularly pleasant, sitting outside by the river, watching the various locals and tourist make their way across Bishopsgate Bridge. Plus the man talking to himself at one of the other tables.

Pulls Ferry is as pretty as ever, and we were entertained by the dogs jumping in and out the river there. We headed from there basically following the man who had been photographing (filming?) said dogs, up towards thea cathedral. Having visited that last time we didn't feel the need for another wander round so headed as best we could work out back to the river, finding the Compleat Anger again.

The river then takes you past the station towards the football ground and Carrow Bridge. On the way we noticed the Dood was out. We had a rest by the Boom tower (and I had a wee against it!). Before heading back to town and then some rest before the main event of the day.

Dave Gorman

Off we went to see Dave at Norwich Playhouse. We had sort of planned on a pint in the Ribs just down the river first but as when we arrived the barmaid vanished to "change a barrel" and we were pressed for time we ended up in Mischief. Never mind though, on to the show!

Dave's support was a guy called Jay Foreman, basically a comedic musician. He did quite a few pretty funny songs, including a Beatles bit where he asked "Who likes the Beatles?" Jan of course had to scream yes the loudest and be picked on for a Beatles song (to which she said Ticket to Ride rather than something properly obscure). He then proceeded to sing it with words shifted forward or some such, fairly impressively (we're both sure the guy he got up on stage must have been a plant though). Pretty good all in all.

Dave himself was of course hilarious as always. The only trouble with Powerpoint Presentation is it's just too short! I won't give too much away but towards the end he mentions asparagus and wee. The wine had had an affect by then so I had to rush off to the toilet. This resulted in Dave heckling me and calling me a child. It was his fault though! At least this time we won't have to buy the DVD to fully remember what the show was about!

And then off to bed...

Wednesday

Another day, another visit to the cafe. And then Great Yarmouth, which was so strange, it has to get its own post.

Finished reading about the madness? Good. After we'd escaped back to Norwich we did have bit of a wander around, though everywhere seemed a little quiet. We did visit the Adam and Eve to convince Janet that she really had been there before---though she still couldn't remember the first time round. We also managed to call in the Temple Bar just down the road from the apartment, which we'd been passing all the time. I watched the football while Janet chatted to some young filly. Then, worn out from the Great Yarmouth experience, it was bed.

Thursday

Another morning, another visit to the cafe. This time we were laden with bags, which we learnt last time is a bit of an issue given that the station lacks left luggage. This time a bit of a query at the shop in the Forum while buying postcards to send ourselves (something of a tradition) revealed a solution. So, top tip for Norwich: If you go and see Building Services in the Forum they'll hire you a locker to store your bags in for the day.

Unburdened we went hunting for the shop we'd remembered for last time and seen on the first day but not gone in because of the bags etc. Took us ages to remember where it actually is though, eventually having to retrace our route up from next to Anglia Television before we found it! Evolution is one of those interesting little gift shops one picks things up from while on holiday. Suitably loaded we could then drop the shopping bag off at the locker (so much better than left luggage!) before continuing.

We didn't do that much else on Thursday to be honest. Just noodled round a little bit more, calling into a couple of the pubs. When we went to collect bags though we were given one last reminder of the strangeness which seemed to sandwich Great Yarmouth. There, at the top of the market near the Forum, stood an old lady, stock still. No idea what she was looking at or waiting for but she was there as we headed for bags and still there, unmoving, when we came back out...

And so to the train, this time with enough time for a relaxing final pint in the Compleat Angler rather than a rushed and half-left one! Ah, to be back in the Ribs again!

Just as a final example of our sometimes incompetency---the postcards mentioned above didn't actually get posted until the next evening, when we wandered into Croydon town centre...

Obviously due to coming from a paper discussing how to talk about climate change the phrases are those that would tend to turn up in such a discussion but some of them are certainly much more widely applicable and it doesn't take much effort to think up others. This is one of the great problems with science communication, possibly increasingly so in these media frenzy rich times when any "descenting" voice is given the same weight as majority opinion (and finds an easy outlet in the internet). scientists use terms in their communications because that is what they mean, and in general are careful about the terms and words they choose. The problem is that taken away from that context the precision is lost so that what was an exacting phrase becomes a source of confusion.

The obvious solution to this is to try and communicate beyond the high towers of science with words the public will understand in a natural way. This seems to me a double edged sword however. While it may lead to a better comprehension and less of a feeling of alienation there is also the increased risk of misunderstanding due to that very loss of accuracy---this can happen to the point that what is actually a clear cut point can become bogged down in what is actually an argument over semantics.

Something else which comes across from reading the article (well worth five minutes of your time if you care about PUS is how when dealing with the public we need to break of our normal shackles of discretion. Scientists are used to couching everything in a web of caution. We place error estimates on our numbers, add numerous caveats, talk about "probably" and the like (look how even the summary for policy makers of the Contribution of Working Group I to the IPCC says Most of the observed increase in global average temperatures since the mid-20th century is very likely due to the observed increase in anthropogenic greenhouse gas concentrations. (additional emphasis mine). Perhaps it is time to throw of the constraints and be more positive, simply stating what all the evidence indicates without all the rest of it (and ignore that this may cause longer term problems given that one of the ways to spot a crank is that they don't tend to bother with this cautiousness).

In conclusion, communicate clearly, but be careful to still say what you mean!

As a further thought this does all remind me somewhat of how we learn to "read" papers. See for instance this list of actual meanings (I'm sure there are others around; that was just the first my googling turned up). I'm pretty convinced that one of the major barriers to science study and understanding is actually getting used to the language.

More info

I still think this is one of the hardest things to convey to undergraduate science students (and, yes, probably guilty as charged myself your honour). The number of times I've seen undergrads present their "lab book" for examination, all very neat and tidy. When questioned they inevitably say something like "Oh, I wrote it up neatly later." Getting them to understand that no one is going to take marks away for an untidy, scribbled on, complete with crossing out book seems impossible. I've always thought a useful exercise would be to something like having them try and write it up months later, or better, perhaps the first task of second year should be to repeat an early first year lab experiment with no guidance other than their own notes from doing it...

I noticed that some of the comments to Doug's post discuss electronic note taking. I can see the advantages but I'm not sure I'm a fan of the idea. It's not even necessarily the file format issue that might put me off so much as where they are stored. As one who has helped rescue data from being on an almost dead medium (never mind the actual nitty gritty details of how those 1s and 0s are arranged), I'm not sure that I like the idea of the notes telling you what the data even is being all electronic as well. Paper has the advantage that its format really doesn't change much over several hundred years at least, and it tends to hang around (actual storage lifetime of a writeable DVD anyone, even if you can find something to read it in ten years?)