Honeybuns and I went to Stockholm City Museum to see the recently opened exhibition on Stockholm on film. One suspects that the exhibition has been sponsored, as the exhbition featured a large number of props from the recently premiered Kenny Begins film, which is not placed in Stockholm, but they did not detract from the overall ambition of showing scenes from Stockholm, and how the Big City has been used symbolically and concretely in films. Short excerpts are shown in loops everywhere in the exhibition halls. The leaking-over of sound from adjacent films is luckily not large enough to be too bothersome. In the end, the time we had allotted for seeing the exhbition was not enough and we will have to go back. So far my favourite is the tourist propaganda film from 1932 in now badly faded colour, showing off exotic Stockholm, full of happy and healthy Stockholmers. The American speaker made a good job pronouncing Swedish words, but finally stumbled on ”skärgården” and ”Saltsjöbaden”.
When the museum closed, we moved on to Filmstaden Sergel to see Watchmen. Oy, I didn't think you could cram that many explosions and bullet-time fight scenes into just the first few minutes of a film and it continued to be quite violent—tender-hearted Honeybuns probably had her eyes shut about half the time. The soundtrack on the other hand was quite exquisite with well-chosen music. Presumably most of the images would have been computer-generated pixels, but with impressive detail levels (but I think Dr Manhattan's crystal construction on Mars was pretty dorky and pointless, sharp edges notwithstanding). Watching the credits I realised I must have missed out on a lot of details, apparently there is plenty for those with the DVD to look through in slow motion.
2009-03-15
2009-03-14
Not significant
With regards to the recent school shooting in Winnenden, there was some question whether the perpetrator had primarily aimed at women, as 11 out of 15 victims were female. In case you wonder, as I did, Table D in Nonparametric Statistics for the Behavioral Sciences indicates that the probability of this distribution being random is 5.9%, i e it's not statistically significant at the 5%-level.
2009-03-13
Veckans ord: nakenchock
En nakenchock måste helt klart vara en tropp ridande polis, iklädda enbart sablar, som bryter upp en demonstration. Rimligen rider de också barbacka.
2009-03-07
Spring cometh
The two tits outside my window have returned and seem to be refurbishing their nest for the season.
2009-03-06
2009-02-27
Veckans ord: anti-agesuccé
Bris och Rädda Barnen har arbetat i decennier mot barnaga, men det verkar som om Olay, av alla, äntligen lyckats finna bot: anti-agesuccén Regenerist.
2009-02-21
Ice art
Arrived in Huddinge Centrum after dark to buy food and detergent and saw something glittering around the corner. There had been an ice sculpture competition earlier in the day and the entries had been left standing there. Most of them were rather uninspired, but the winning entry ”Frusen” was a glittering marvel that changed aspect with every new angle as I walked around it—an embracing couple, a sea horse, a deconstructed face, a facetious play with light.
2009-02-20
Veckans ord: könsord
Vi diskuterade under vilka omständigheter tunnelbanevagnar meddelas ha fått ”vagnfel” och tas ur trafik. Uppenbarligen ses det inte som nödvändigt om nån spytt ner halva vagnen, men om någon klottrat det minsta på den så åker den i depå. Enligt uppgift är klottrade könsord högst prioriterade och det måste vara sant, jag har aldrig sett en vagn som det stått ”KVINNA KVINNA KVINNA” på i svart sprayfärg.
2009-02-19
Decrepiter and decrepiter
So, a year later a visit to the optometrist indicated that it was time for reading glasses. This time I decided to go for a wide-field frame, just to try things out. I suffer from conflicting emotions: With the new glasses most of the world is fuzzy and weirdly distorted but it's both embarrassing and heartening how much better I see things things 0.4 m away—puzzling has become much easier with the glasses.
2009-02-12
Happy Darwin Day!
To celebrate the anniversary I have started reading Evolutionary Analysis. Expect a report in the fullness of time.
2009-02-11
Ordnung muß sein!
Jag irriteras då och då av att vissa formuleringar förlöjligas som varande ”politiskt korrekta” – varför skulle det vara mindervärdigt att vara korrekt? Vakteln är politiskt korrekt vilket innebär att hon är mycket, mycket precis. Precision är bra.
2009-02-09
Not even running in circles
I was debugging an application somebody had created in framework X when I ran into a parameter I hadn't seen before so I wondered what it might do and what its legal values might be. I looked up the function in the manual. The entry for the function referred me to the separate manual for command line functions. I retrieved that manual and located the relevant chapter. It referred me to the man page for the function. I typed in man function and the man page referred me to the online help in the function. I typed function help and got the explanation that the parameter does, in fact, exist.
(Names redacted to protect me from the guilty, but their name ends with “pple”…)
(Names redacted to protect me from the guilty, but their name ends with “pple”…)
2009-02-04
“Oh, it's an exhibition of elderly men!”
The Museum of Science and Technology currently hosts Mälarmodulmöte, model railroaders connecting landscape modules to each other, thus being able to run their trains much longer than any individual can do. MMM are doing their modules in H0, i e 1:87 scale, so they're relatively large.
Honeybuns and I went there to look at the trains. Clearly model railways, like plastic modelling, is a hobby for gentlemen, I probably was at the younger end of the audience and participants. Railway modellers have differing approaches to the landscape, so it was not surprising that there were clear differences in the interest in making a realistic landscape between different modules, but that there often were large quality differences between different features within a single module—a module could have carefully sculpted rock sides (probably created with Woodland Scenics moulds), while having just a featureless slab for a road section, trees and greenery could be flawlessly executed with plastic-looking houses just plopped down somewhere. Very strange. Still, the main joy is of course in the running of the trains, and we were shown lovingly detailed cargo cards, attached to car cards, assembled in bunches to form trains and run according to time tables for all the stations on the huge railway.Update
An old school mate shows remarkable forbearance with a stupid TV reporter.
2009-02-03
Though this be method, yet there is madness in't
Honeybuns and I expect to stay together a long time.
Our appetite whetted by our earlier puzzling exercises, we went looking for more and found…The Big One. Ravensburger's “Historical World Maps”, 18 240 pieces, 2.76 × 1.92 m when finished.
The box was heavy enough that we had to bring it home on a cart.
After some consideration it was clear that the only place where we could assemble it was on my bedroom floor, given a bit of moving furniture about.
So far we have just started sorting pieces into categories and assemble some obvious features.
Our appetite whetted by our earlier puzzling exercises, we went looking for more and found…The Big One. Ravensburger's “Historical World Maps”, 18 240 pieces, 2.76 × 1.92 m when finished.
The box was heavy enough that we had to bring it home on a cart. After some consideration it was clear that the only place where we could assemble it was on my bedroom floor, given a bit of moving furniture about.
So far we have just started sorting pieces into categories and assemble some obvious features.
2009-01-30
2009-01-29
Discriminated against, again!
I decided I need an electronic ID. Can I get one? Sure, it doesn't cost anything, except…I have to run Windows, and I have to run Internet Exploder.
I feel very much like kicking someone.
I feel very much like kicking someone.
2009-01-26
There and back again
As foreshadowed earlier, Honeybuns and I have been on a cruise to Helsinki. We don't need any particular excuse to spend time holding hands and looking at each other, but it was nice to be able to go away, not have to cook dinner and get up early to make breakfast.
As we arrived in Helsinki the weather wasn't the most welcoming, just enough above freezing that there was a thin sleet and we had to jump over slushy puddles as we walked towards the city centre with trams trundling past us, their sound indicating an immense weight not to be hit by. There was still lights in the trees along the Esplanade, but the Christmas market was long gone.
Finland still considers Sunday to be a day of rest, so we had few opportunities for shopping, though we visited the SOKOS S-Market where I was fascinated and embarrassed by this food store managing to (presumably) turn a profit with manual service and a much larger assortment than similarly sized shops around Stockholm.
Naturally, I had to pay my respects to the Ukko-Pekka model at the railway station. Sadly, you can no longer put in a coin to make the wheels spin (achieved by rollers hidden in the tracks, I now found).
We trudged up Mannerheimintie, peering through shop windows at cleverly designed lamps and furniture.
The Opera House was closed, the Finlandia House likewise. But the National Museum was welcoming as always, with a brand-new exhibition on the War of 1808–1809 and the loss of Finland. It wasn't flawless, but it absorbed us completely until we had to head back to the boat. (Later, I realised that the corresponding exhibition at the Army Museum in Stockholm had just closed.) On the way back we passed through the celebration of the Chinese New Year at the Glass Palace.
On the way home the sea was as calm as a glass floor.
As we arrived in Helsinki the weather wasn't the most welcoming, just enough above freezing that there was a thin sleet and we had to jump over slushy puddles as we walked towards the city centre with trams trundling past us, their sound indicating an immense weight not to be hit by. There was still lights in the trees along the Esplanade, but the Christmas market was long gone.
Finland still considers Sunday to be a day of rest, so we had few opportunities for shopping, though we visited the SOKOS S-Market where I was fascinated and embarrassed by this food store managing to (presumably) turn a profit with manual service and a much larger assortment than similarly sized shops around Stockholm.
Naturally, I had to pay my respects to the Ukko-Pekka model at the railway station. Sadly, you can no longer put in a coin to make the wheels spin (achieved by rollers hidden in the tracks, I now found).
We trudged up Mannerheimintie, peering through shop windows at cleverly designed lamps and furniture. The Opera House was closed, the Finlandia House likewise. But the National Museum was welcoming as always, with a brand-new exhibition on the War of 1808–1809 and the loss of Finland. It wasn't flawless, but it absorbed us completely until we had to head back to the boat. (Later, I realised that the corresponding exhibition at the Army Museum in Stockholm had just closed.) On the way back we passed through the celebration of the Chinese New Year at the Glass Palace.
On the way home the sea was as calm as a glass floor.
2009-01-25
A puzzling event
During our long Christmas holiday Honeybuns and I spent some time doing jigsaw puzzles. It seems that puzzle makers too are feeling the pressure from all other possible time-wasters, so while Ravensburger persist with the classical alp landscapes, Jumbo have lots of various gimmick puzzles. What caught our fancy was their line of „Wasgij?“ puzzles. In spite of the Dutch name, the subjects are very British. The gimmick is that the cover image on the box does not match the image on the puzzle, rather you get the view from behind the upset people on the box image.
Here is the “Home makeover” puzzle:
Another effect of the apparently decreasing sales of jigsaw puzzles is that the assortment available in shops is quite limited, the best range I've found so far is at Akademibokhandeln in Stockholm and even that isn't very impressive.
Here is the “Home makeover” puzzle:
Another effect of the apparently decreasing sales of jigsaw puzzles is that the assortment available in shops is quite limited, the best range I've found so far is at Akademibokhandeln in Stockholm and even that isn't very impressive.
2009-01-23
2009-01-16
2009-01-12
A lesson in interface design
I got a promotional ticket for a free cruise to Helsinki on Silja Line and thought it would be an excellent use of a weekend. So I brought up the Silja web site, clicked on “Cruise” and started filling out the cruise booking form. This was divided into multiple pages, requiring input of lots of things and only on the last page did I get the chance to input a discount code. This made no difference to the price. Maybe the code was wrong. Instead I tried the serial number of the ticket. This was also accepted by the form, but didn't cause any change in the price either. Weird.
The next day I called the online booking helpdesk and explained my problem. The helpdesk person explained, in a tone suggesting he did this for nine out of ten calls, that I had to do an “online booking”
Well yes, that's what I did?
Push the button on the right marked “Online booking”.
On the right? Oh, that's a button?
Clicking the marked region brought up a form similar to the earlier one but with the difference that it had an extra field for entering a discount code at the bottom (visible by scrolling).
I leave it as an exercise for the readers to enumerate the ways in which this interface design can be improved.
The next day I called the online booking helpdesk and explained my problem. The helpdesk person explained, in a tone suggesting he did this for nine out of ten calls, that I had to do an “online booking”
Well yes, that's what I did?
Push the button on the right marked “Online booking”.
On the right? Oh, that's a button?
Clicking the marked region brought up a form similar to the earlier one but with the difference that it had an extra field for entering a discount code at the bottom (visible by scrolling).
I leave it as an exercise for the readers to enumerate the ways in which this interface design can be improved.
2009-01-09
Veckans ord: kungöra
En gång besökte kungen institutionen, men han var så omgiven av livvakter, professorer och andra högdjur att jag bara såg ett kungöra.
2009-01-08
My toaster is toast
My toaster, a Philips Toastissimo, has lately shown some reluctance at ejecting the toast when it is done, preferring to keep heating it until I notice the smell, or, once I became aware of the problem, watch the toasting process closely and give the handle a little push at the right moment. Now, a likely hypothesis is that there is a spring inside that has lost some of its spring. This should be easily fixable by either replacing the spring or adjusting its attachment, so I attacked the toaster with a screwdriver (after having disconnected it from the socket).
On the far end of the toaster the screws were normal Philips screws and the end plastic was easily removed, but there was nothing to adjust there. OK, so the business end then, but there the screwdriver just slipped on the screws and after I had peered at the heads for a while I realised that they had one-way heads that screw but don't unscrew. No user-serviceable parts inside, and we've made sure you won't even attempt to service them. So, much annoyed I have to toss the toaster in the electrical equipment recycling bin and then go out to find a new toaster—one which is user-serviceable, if I can find one.
On the far end of the toaster the screws were normal Philips screws and the end plastic was easily removed, but there was nothing to adjust there. OK, so the business end then, but there the screwdriver just slipped on the screws and after I had peered at the heads for a while I realised that they had one-way heads that screw but don't unscrew. No user-serviceable parts inside, and we've made sure you won't even attempt to service them. So, much annoyed I have to toss the toaster in the electrical equipment recycling bin and then go out to find a new toaster—one which is user-serviceable, if I can find one.
2009-01-03
2009-01-02
Veckans ord: lösvikt
Om man förvarar täcken alltför hårt vikta går de med tiden sönder i vecken. Därför ska ett täcke i garderoben alltid vara lösvikt.
2009-01-01
Happy at the New Year
After Christmas celebrations Honeybuns returned to more southern and less snowy climes and there was much rejoicing.
We went to see the gingerbread houses at the Museum of Architecure but eventually ended up in the exhibition on architecture in Barcelona. We noted that just as for modern art, fashionable architects can't just present a neat idea, but have to surround it with grandiose and pompous verbiage. (Possibly they think computer scientists insist on presenting simple ideas with lots of impenetrable jargon, but that's a completely different matter.)
The sub-exhibition on Antoni Gaudí and his work on Sagrada Familia was much centred around his geometrical inventions, both enabling simpler construction methods (so why has it taken so long to build the place then?) and allowing a lighter structure, both in terms of mass and photons.
This would have been an excellent opportunity for some interactive exhibits, letting the audience play around with generatrices and see for themselves how they form various surfaces as they are moved along given paths. I strongly suspect the general audience probably isn't conversant with terms like “hyperbolic paraboloid”. The exhibition catalogue did contain a bit more explanation, but then again, should you have to shell out another 250 SEK just to get the labels under the exhibits explained? So, a good math teaching opportunity wasted.
On New Years' Eve we dressed up in our finest and prepared a candle-lit dinner for two (garlic mushrooms on toast, saffron fusilli with herb-and-lemon sauce and wild strawberry cider), Honeybuns musingly noting that the pleasantness of a festive evening apparently is unrelated to its alcohol content.
Long shutter time and short self-timer makes for fuzzy pictures.
After dinner we changed out of our finery and bundled up in ski pants, scarves and thumb gloves to brave the elements at Skansen where Jan Malmsjö read Nyårsklockan as tradition requires. The fireworks were very beautiful and not too loud from where we were standing.
The huge crowd then moved back into the city, and we had to zigzag to avoid drunk revellers, smashed champagne bottles and thrown firecrackers. SL was running all available busses and trams to move people and even the underground trains out to the suburbs were running at rush-hour frequency to my great relief, especially considering the puke pools on the platform.
We were home again around 02:00 and finished off the night with saffron buns and aurora glögg. The latter was a pleasant surprise, the spices were just a subtle addition to a smooth blackcurrant flavour with a hint of bilberry.
When we woke up again, the sun shone in through the bedroom window.
We went to see the gingerbread houses at the Museum of Architecure but eventually ended up in the exhibition on architecture in Barcelona. We noted that just as for modern art, fashionable architects can't just present a neat idea, but have to surround it with grandiose and pompous verbiage. (Possibly they think computer scientists insist on presenting simple ideas with lots of impenetrable jargon, but that's a completely different matter.)
The sub-exhibition on Antoni Gaudí and his work on Sagrada Familia was much centred around his geometrical inventions, both enabling simpler construction methods (so why has it taken so long to build the place then?) and allowing a lighter structure, both in terms of mass and photons.
This would have been an excellent opportunity for some interactive exhibits, letting the audience play around with generatrices and see for themselves how they form various surfaces as they are moved along given paths. I strongly suspect the general audience probably isn't conversant with terms like “hyperbolic paraboloid”. The exhibition catalogue did contain a bit more explanation, but then again, should you have to shell out another 250 SEK just to get the labels under the exhibits explained? So, a good math teaching opportunity wasted.
On New Years' Eve we dressed up in our finest and prepared a candle-lit dinner for two (garlic mushrooms on toast, saffron fusilli with herb-and-lemon sauce and wild strawberry cider), Honeybuns musingly noting that the pleasantness of a festive evening apparently is unrelated to its alcohol content.
Long shutter time and short self-timer makes for fuzzy pictures.
After dinner we changed out of our finery and bundled up in ski pants, scarves and thumb gloves to brave the elements at Skansen where Jan Malmsjö read Nyårsklockan as tradition requires. The fireworks were very beautiful and not too loud from where we were standing.
The huge crowd then moved back into the city, and we had to zigzag to avoid drunk revellers, smashed champagne bottles and thrown firecrackers. SL was running all available busses and trams to move people and even the underground trains out to the suburbs were running at rush-hour frequency to my great relief, especially considering the puke pools on the platform.
We were home again around 02:00 and finished off the night with saffron buns and aurora glögg. The latter was a pleasant surprise, the spices were just a subtle addition to a smooth blackcurrant flavour with a hint of bilberry.
When we woke up again, the sun shone in through the bedroom window.
2008-12-26
Veckans ord: peglegsam
Jag tackar YouTube-användaren peglegsam för att ha påmint oss om detta fina gamla skånska okvädingsord. Ex: ”Där gaur du å e peglegsam, din klydderöv!”
Helt klart bör peglegsam användas oftare för att inte helt falla i glömska, låt oss alla nyttja det minst en gång i veckan!
Helt klart bör peglegsam användas oftare för att inte helt falla i glömska, låt oss alla nyttja det minst en gång i veckan!
2008-12-25
2008-12-22
Call out the Ents!
Without warning, the little copse of trees across the street is suddenly gone. This morning I saw a human moving on the plot, looking as if he might know what was going on. Ah, a parking lot for the planned new house up the hill… It's not as if they could have added another floor to the parking house just next to it (or simply filled it to capacity, it's usually half-empty), or let people park on the empty parking lot next to the shop, or let people use the excellent public communications and manage without a car at all. No, no, the Tree Killers have been at it again. I am very upset, there certainly aren't too many trees in this city, not even here at the outskirts.
If trees could scream and struggle a bit, maybe it wouldn't be so easy to just saw them down without a second thought.
If trees could scream and struggle a bit, maybe it wouldn't be so easy to just saw them down without a second thought.
2008-12-21
Let it snow!
After a rainy week today is a bright and sunny day in Stockholm. The Only-begotten Daughter grumbles that it's not very Christmas-like, but such is the climate in southern Sweden. Honeybuns has travelled north, where things are otherwise:
2008-12-20
2008-12-19
Word of the week: ad verb
I got to thinking about what verbs might be likely to turn up in advertisements, so I went through 60 non-classified ads in today's Dagens Nyheter and counted the ad verbs.
It turned out that 15% made do without any verbs at all, and in a fairly large proportion of the rest there would only be verbs in the fine print.
The most common verbs were vara (be) with 27 occurences, and ha (have) with 20, obviously to a large part due to them being auxiliary verbs.
The third most common (17) was finnas (exist), typically explaining varieties of items.
The next two (14 each) are gälla (be valid for) and få (get)—here we are looking at the fine print.
These are then followed (at 9 and 8) by ge (give) and köpa (buy), not surprising around Christmas.
A group with 6 instances each is göra (do), komma (come), kunna (be able to), and sälja (sell).
5 instances each for bli (become) and läsa (read)—the latter in exhortations to find out more on the companies' websites.
Then it sort of peters out into verbs with at most few instances each.
It turned out that 15% made do without any verbs at all, and in a fairly large proportion of the rest there would only be verbs in the fine print.
The most common verbs were vara (be) with 27 occurences, and ha (have) with 20, obviously to a large part due to them being auxiliary verbs.
The third most common (17) was finnas (exist), typically explaining varieties of items.
The next two (14 each) are gälla (be valid for) and få (get)—here we are looking at the fine print.
These are then followed (at 9 and 8) by ge (give) and köpa (buy), not surprising around Christmas.
A group with 6 instances each is göra (do), komma (come), kunna (be able to), and sälja (sell).
5 instances each for bli (become) and läsa (read)—the latter in exhortations to find out more on the companies' websites.
Then it sort of peters out into verbs with at most few instances each.
2008-12-05
2008-12-04
Conservation efforts
Jean Piaget developed a model for children's intellectual development. One of the milestones is the understanding that a liquid doesn't change its volume when it's poured from one container to another of different shape. This is known as conservation. However, sometimes it's painfully obvious that this is an understanding on a more superficial and intellectual level, as when a friend poured the contents of a can into a glass with seemingly larger diameter yet the water level ending up much higher in the glass. We could figure out that the thickness of the walls of the glass was larger than those of the can, yet the effect was eerie.
2008-12-03
Christmas season
Honeybuns and I had a most enjoyable last weekend. The Saturday we spent at the Butterfly House. There weren't very many butterflies about though, maybe even the tropical lepidopterans have decided to hibernate through the winter. The museum restaurant was a delightful surprise, the food was actually quite good and not too expensive, an unusual combination in most museum restaurants.
On Sunday we went to Skansen for the Christmas Market. To our joy we found that Skansen has made an excellent effort this year, the main entrance met us with light cascades down the hillside and a choir singing traditional Christmas songs, i e not the ones you'll hear every day in every supermarket, but old and yet less worn-out ones.
As we wandered around the city quarter and looked into shops and workshops we found that they all used period lighting, in other words it was quite dark in most places. It brought home very strongly what wintertime must have meant just a few generations away, Christmas being when you would celebrate and use the half a dozen of tallow candles made at the autumn slaughter. The high point was when we entered Älvrosgården and listened to three violinists playing folk music in almost complete darkness.
The market itself contained more booths than I remember ever having seen there before, selling waffles, sausages, slippers, knives, fish, and whatever other folkloristic Christmas items, all very pleasant in the winter night (i e early afternoon). When the market closed at around 16:00, we haggled ourselves to a bag of discount saffron buns and then stood by Solliden and looked out over the city, glittering in the darkness. I noted how experiences are intensified by sharing them, not least so when shared with my beloved Honeybuns.
We passed through the Skansen shop for some aurora-flavour glögg (I will let you know what aurora tastes like) and then proceeded to Gröna Lund and watched brave people riding roller-coasters in the chilly air while others skated beneath them. The Christmas market was tiny and not very exciting, so soon we caught the tram and continued to Kungsträdgården, which also had a Christmas market. We bought doughnuts and munched on them as we walked towards the Old Town, to see the Christmas market there. I consider it to have lost much of its charm since they discontinued the paper trumpets for children (on account of the complaining residents), but we still found some more stuff for the Christmas table. I would have sung ”Jul i Gamla Stan”, but I don't know the words and besides I think it's a bit tacky.
Tired and satisfied with our day, we went home and made rice pudding for dinner in order to continue with the Christmas theme.
On Sunday we went to Skansen for the Christmas Market. To our joy we found that Skansen has made an excellent effort this year, the main entrance met us with light cascades down the hillside and a choir singing traditional Christmas songs, i e not the ones you'll hear every day in every supermarket, but old and yet less worn-out ones.
As we wandered around the city quarter and looked into shops and workshops we found that they all used period lighting, in other words it was quite dark in most places. It brought home very strongly what wintertime must have meant just a few generations away, Christmas being when you would celebrate and use the half a dozen of tallow candles made at the autumn slaughter. The high point was when we entered Älvrosgården and listened to three violinists playing folk music in almost complete darkness.
The market itself contained more booths than I remember ever having seen there before, selling waffles, sausages, slippers, knives, fish, and whatever other folkloristic Christmas items, all very pleasant in the winter night (i e early afternoon). When the market closed at around 16:00, we haggled ourselves to a bag of discount saffron buns and then stood by Solliden and looked out over the city, glittering in the darkness. I noted how experiences are intensified by sharing them, not least so when shared with my beloved Honeybuns.
We passed through the Skansen shop for some aurora-flavour glögg (I will let you know what aurora tastes like) and then proceeded to Gröna Lund and watched brave people riding roller-coasters in the chilly air while others skated beneath them. The Christmas market was tiny and not very exciting, so soon we caught the tram and continued to Kungsträdgården, which also had a Christmas market. We bought doughnuts and munched on them as we walked towards the Old Town, to see the Christmas market there. I consider it to have lost much of its charm since they discontinued the paper trumpets for children (on account of the complaining residents), but we still found some more stuff for the Christmas table. I would have sung ”Jul i Gamla Stan”, but I don't know the words and besides I think it's a bit tacky.
Tired and satisfied with our day, we went home and made rice pudding for dinner in order to continue with the Christmas theme.
2008-12-02
Having a gay old time
Honeybuns and I recently visited the National Museum of Natural History, a favourite of both of ours. We started with an astronomy show in the Omnimax theatre, Cosmic Collisions. Rather sensationalistic, but some quite nice computer animations.
Our main target was the exhibition “Rainbow Animals” (yup, that's the original, “Swedish”, name of the exhibition) on homosexuality in non-human animals. They had a couple of (plastic) dolphin pairs in quite explicit positions, but generally the exhibits were just random stuffed animals and we had to contend ourselves with reading about their lascivious natures. They did not show any whelks, but I was much amused to find there is a “Red-faced lovebird”, they must constantly get interrupted at inopportune moments. All in all the exhibition was quite small, but all exhibits were carefully cross-referenced to the relevant peer-reviewed literature, so there is plenty of further reading, should one feel like delving deeper into the subject.
We continued to see the other exhibitions. I've often complained that modern museums are too loud, but now found a very elegant solution to the problem, sound hoods that keep sounds restricted to the listeners standing right beneath them.
In the mineralogy department we found another clever invention: the mineral samples were placed in shelves that could be pulled out, lamps inside lighting up when the shelves were pulled out, very space-efficient and an excellent way to display the rocks.
The museum restaurant on the other hand had gone from indifferent to bad with the latest change of ownership, snagging a chorizo from the hot dog stand outside seems a viable option—for the non-vegetarians at least.
Then, just before we had to leave, we found a most delightful little exhibition on biological diversity, well hidden in the corridor leading to the whale exhibition. Do not miss!
Our main target was the exhibition “Rainbow Animals” (yup, that's the original, “Swedish”, name of the exhibition) on homosexuality in non-human animals. They had a couple of (plastic) dolphin pairs in quite explicit positions, but generally the exhibits were just random stuffed animals and we had to contend ourselves with reading about their lascivious natures. They did not show any whelks, but I was much amused to find there is a “Red-faced lovebird”, they must constantly get interrupted at inopportune moments. All in all the exhibition was quite small, but all exhibits were carefully cross-referenced to the relevant peer-reviewed literature, so there is plenty of further reading, should one feel like delving deeper into the subject.
We continued to see the other exhibitions. I've often complained that modern museums are too loud, but now found a very elegant solution to the problem, sound hoods that keep sounds restricted to the listeners standing right beneath them.
In the mineralogy department we found another clever invention: the mineral samples were placed in shelves that could be pulled out, lamps inside lighting up when the shelves were pulled out, very space-efficient and an excellent way to display the rocks.
The museum restaurant on the other hand had gone from indifferent to bad with the latest change of ownership, snagging a chorizo from the hot dog stand outside seems a viable option—for the non-vegetarians at least.
Then, just before we had to leave, we found a most delightful little exhibition on biological diversity, well hidden in the corridor leading to the whale exhibition. Do not miss!
2008-12-01
Death in the age of Facebook
The mobile on my nightstand played its chirpy little tune. Picking it up I automatically noted the time: 01:27. My older half-brother S had—unexpectedly and prematurely—died a few hours earlier, please forward the message to Sis and Mom. I decided I could probably wait till morning to call them. While I returned to sleep the search for the members of a scattered family in infrequent contact continued, using Eniro, Hitta and whatever other sites allowed suitable searches for incomplete ID information. S's partner M was travelling abroad and had to be reached. A friend of hers in another city was located who managed to get hold of M on Skype in the early morning.
In the morning I left voice mail messages to call me on my mother's and sister's numbers. As I came in to work I saw S still logged in to his Skype account, where he'd left it going for his final exercise round. More subdued phone calls during the day, there would be a viewing at the hospital the next day. I was unfamiliar with the term, but googling confirmed that it was an opportunity to see the body. When had this procedure been (re-)introduced?
The next morning grim-faced siblings and half-siblings met at the hospital chapel with S's children and M. Raw unconstrained grief from M, we others struggling to keep outward emotions in check in the prescribed Nordic manner, this sometimes necessitating rapid exits to the bathroom, outdoors or just fixed staring away, breathing deeply. (I turned on my clinical mind and observed.) A hospital-issue welfare officer hovered nearby, but soon withdrew as she felt her presence unnecessary.
Eventually we had to leave, making space for others to meet their dead, and all went to S and M's house to find solace in each other and to manage the situation by planning practical details. Work, always a sure way to keep oneself from thinking. Where should the ceremony be, how should it designed? Buddhist or Orthodox ritual? “But none of that God stuff.” Those who had their laptops with them brought up iPhoto and shared their pictures of S.
The next few days we made points of friending each other on Facebook, adding each other to our Skype contact lists, updating our telephone numbers and email addresses to better stay in touch.
Eventually came the funeral, on the time when it had been possible to book a chapel and officiants. A completely secular occasion in a chapel in a silent forest burial ground, restrained and sad; token memories offered by grieving friends and colleagues. For practical reasons the actual interment took place at a different burial ground, now with an Orthodox priest blessing the dead, rapidly reeling off the necessary many words in the cold air, comforting perhaps not so much through any presumed presence of God, but by the familiar ritual, ingrained since childhood, the bedrock of generations behind. We others, brought up in Western Lutheranism, may not have understood what was being said, but still recognised the fundamentals of ritual and the support it gave.
And perhaps it is a modern kind of votive candle that S still is logged in to Skype.
In the morning I left voice mail messages to call me on my mother's and sister's numbers. As I came in to work I saw S still logged in to his Skype account, where he'd left it going for his final exercise round. More subdued phone calls during the day, there would be a viewing at the hospital the next day. I was unfamiliar with the term, but googling confirmed that it was an opportunity to see the body. When had this procedure been (re-)introduced?
The next morning grim-faced siblings and half-siblings met at the hospital chapel with S's children and M. Raw unconstrained grief from M, we others struggling to keep outward emotions in check in the prescribed Nordic manner, this sometimes necessitating rapid exits to the bathroom, outdoors or just fixed staring away, breathing deeply. (I turned on my clinical mind and observed.) A hospital-issue welfare officer hovered nearby, but soon withdrew as she felt her presence unnecessary.
Eventually we had to leave, making space for others to meet their dead, and all went to S and M's house to find solace in each other and to manage the situation by planning practical details. Work, always a sure way to keep oneself from thinking. Where should the ceremony be, how should it designed? Buddhist or Orthodox ritual? “But none of that God stuff.” Those who had their laptops with them brought up iPhoto and shared their pictures of S.
The next few days we made points of friending each other on Facebook, adding each other to our Skype contact lists, updating our telephone numbers and email addresses to better stay in touch.
Eventually came the funeral, on the time when it had been possible to book a chapel and officiants. A completely secular occasion in a chapel in a silent forest burial ground, restrained and sad; token memories offered by grieving friends and colleagues. For practical reasons the actual interment took place at a different burial ground, now with an Orthodox priest blessing the dead, rapidly reeling off the necessary many words in the cold air, comforting perhaps not so much through any presumed presence of God, but by the familiar ritual, ingrained since childhood, the bedrock of generations behind. We others, brought up in Western Lutheranism, may not have understood what was being said, but still recognised the fundamentals of ritual and the support it gave.
And perhaps it is a modern kind of votive candle that S still is logged in to Skype.
2008-11-28
Veckans ord: skumplast
Winston Churchill lär ha föredragit sin champagne kall, torr och gratis, men även när han fick betala för sin skumpa förbrukade han ansenliga mängder per dag, eftersom han hade en svår skumplast.
2008-11-14
Veckans ord: tågluffare
När de Enfödda Barnen var små var de väldigt förtjusta i att gnaga på sina fötter, riktiga tågluffare var de.
2008-11-06
2008-11-02
The benevolent pusher
The club was the main attraction at the Hobby Fair this year again with our traditional introduction to modelling for children. The kids get a model for cheap on the condition they sit with their parents and build it there, which they happily do. Many come back year after year to do build models at the fair. It's not clear if we are bringing them into the hobby—they certainly don't turn up at our meetings, but at least they have been exposed to the joy for a while. And we get to feel like drug-pushers. Sort of.
2008-10-31
Veckans ord: penision
Män har i snitt högre lön än kvinnor. Som följd därav har de också högre inkomster när de slutat arbeta: penision.
2008-10-30
Political meme
Via Thnidu:
Copy this sentence into your blog if you're in a non-same-sex marriage, and you don't want it "protected" by the bigots who think that gay marriage hurts it somehow.
Strictly speaking I'm not married, but even if I were, I wouldn't feel threatened anyway. Even further I don't think the state has any reason to legislate about my relations with other consenting adults. Abolish all marriage laws!
Copy this sentence into your blog if you're in a non-same-sex marriage, and you don't want it "protected" by the bigots who think that gay marriage hurts it somehow.
Strictly speaking I'm not married, but even if I were, I wouldn't feel threatened anyway. Even further I don't think the state has any reason to legislate about my relations with other consenting adults. Abolish all marriage laws!
2008-10-28
Uh-oh
This isn't all that recent and other bloggers have already commented and drawn the same conclusions, but I'm still so shocked I have to add my own entry.
I've felt it to be a bit over the top when USAians accuse Republicans of being fascists, but finding a cartoon like this in a mainstream conservative newspaper, executed without the slightest hint of irony or sarcasm, drives the point home, so to speak. I feel like going over, picking up all my friends and bringing them to safety. Now, before it's too late.
I've felt it to be a bit over the top when USAians accuse Republicans of being fascists, but finding a cartoon like this in a mainstream conservative newspaper, executed without the slightest hint of irony or sarcasm, drives the point home, so to speak. I feel like going over, picking up all my friends and bringing them to safety. Now, before it's too late.
2008-10-27
Blind to the consequences
As I was walking through the city, I realised that a building I've passed quite often contains the head office of that pearl of Swedish social politics, the Swedish Social Insurance Agency. I had missed it before, as the sign on the building is fairly small and unostentatious and in fact what now had drawn my eye was something that literally shouldn't have—the line of Braille below the printed text.
Contemplating this I thought of many things. One thing was that probably the Braille was not intended to actually be read—after all, how many walk around stroking walls to find signs on the off chance that there is a bit of Braille there? Nonetheless, the symbolism is clear: “We're here for everyone.” (that can read Swedish at least).
The other thing was the Braille itself. Now, as I said, the sign itself is pretty inconspicuous, but it could well have been larger. The text is written in a simple sans-serif typeface, indicating simplicity, seriousness, matter-of-factness. For Braille, as far as I know, there aren't really different typefaces, and there is not all that much room for variation in size—each character should fit under a fingertip. I guess it would technically be possible to indicate style, corresponding to italic, boldface, etc, by having the bumps have different profiles—not just hemispheres, but pyramids and hemicubes. I'm not sure how finely graded differences are actually distinguishable, but then again, most sighted readers aren't consciously aware of the distinctions between Times New Roman and Bookman either. There are dynamic Braille displays that can vibrate the needles, presumably the rhythm could be varied for a different feel. Then again, I'm sure the Braille community have come with their own ways of indicating style and character, I wonder how Discworlds novels are rendered in Braille. The audiobooks read by Steven Briggs are of course excellent.
Contemplating this I thought of many things. One thing was that probably the Braille was not intended to actually be read—after all, how many walk around stroking walls to find signs on the off chance that there is a bit of Braille there? Nonetheless, the symbolism is clear: “We're here for everyone.” (that can read Swedish at least).
The other thing was the Braille itself. Now, as I said, the sign itself is pretty inconspicuous, but it could well have been larger. The text is written in a simple sans-serif typeface, indicating simplicity, seriousness, matter-of-factness. For Braille, as far as I know, there aren't really different typefaces, and there is not all that much room for variation in size—each character should fit under a fingertip. I guess it would technically be possible to indicate style, corresponding to italic, boldface, etc, by having the bumps have different profiles—not just hemispheres, but pyramids and hemicubes. I'm not sure how finely graded differences are actually distinguishable, but then again, most sighted readers aren't consciously aware of the distinctions between Times New Roman and Bookman either. There are dynamic Braille displays that can vibrate the needles, presumably the rhythm could be varied for a different feel. Then again, I'm sure the Braille community have come with their own ways of indicating style and character, I wonder how Discworlds novels are rendered in Braille. The audiobooks read by Steven Briggs are of course excellent.
2008-10-26
Spitless
The F11 Museum by what now is Skavsta airport had geared up for the celebration of the 60th anniversary of the arrival of the first Spitfires in Sweden. A visit by a Spitfire was promised, though it would be a Mk XVI whereas the Swedish S31 was the Mk XIX. This could of course not be missed, so we, a few friends, bundled into a car and rolled through a rainy Södermanland towards Nyköping.
As we arrived we found the cozy little museum and a sizable crowd of people. An Airbus from MyTravel was just coming in to land, but had to abort with a mighty engine roar, possibly because they failed to brake on the slippery runway. It was thus not a very great surprise that the promised Spitfire visit was cancelled on account of the weather.
Still, the well-filled museum hangar housed an S29C, an S32C, an S35E, and the front part of an SF37 and various other bits and pieces. I have always liked reconnaissance aircraft for all the odd bumps and lumps they end up with in order to fit the cameras, electronic equipment and additional fuel tanks. (The S31 however was a very clean aircraft for flying high and fast.) I spent considerable time crawling around underneath the aircraft photographing their landing gear, my special fetish.
Other parts of the museum housed exhibits of uniforms, equipment and various bric-a-brac and several nicely made model aircraft. There was also a couple of trailers demonstrating the work place of an intelligence platoon, all 1970s vintage, but apparently the same equipment is still in use. The HP7221A plotters were a fond reunion—I first learned computer graphics on one.
Eventually we felt that we had seen enough for the day and returned to Stockholm, on the whole satisfied with the day. Spitfires, next summer!
As we arrived we found the cozy little museum and a sizable crowd of people. An Airbus from MyTravel was just coming in to land, but had to abort with a mighty engine roar, possibly because they failed to brake on the slippery runway. It was thus not a very great surprise that the promised Spitfire visit was cancelled on account of the weather.
A spot of rain does not disturb a planespotter.
Still, the well-filled museum hangar housed an S29C, an S32C, an S35E, and the front part of an SF37 and various other bits and pieces. I have always liked reconnaissance aircraft for all the odd bumps and lumps they end up with in order to fit the cameras, electronic equipment and additional fuel tanks. (The S31 however was a very clean aircraft for flying high and fast.) I spent considerable time crawling around underneath the aircraft photographing their landing gear, my special fetish.
Honeybuns tries out the Draken cockpit.
Other parts of the museum housed exhibits of uniforms, equipment and various bric-a-brac and several nicely made model aircraft. There was also a couple of trailers demonstrating the work place of an intelligence platoon, all 1970s vintage, but apparently the same equipment is still in use. The HP7221A plotters were a fond reunion—I first learned computer graphics on one.
Eventually we felt that we had seen enough for the day and returned to Stockholm, on the whole satisfied with the day. Spitfires, next summer!
As close as we got to a Spitfire, an S31 propeller.
2008-10-25
I hate fags!
You see them everywhere on the streets, brazenly spreading their vile diseases. I don't ever want to see them yet I had to spend all morning today picking up butts.
In other news, the Christian Democrats will not manage to block the new gender-neutral marriage law, hooray!
In other news, the Christian Democrats will not manage to block the new gender-neutral marriage law, hooray!
2008-10-24
2008-10-23
Turning off the lights is a bright idea
Just got my electrickity bill. On actual measurement I had consumed much less than the electricity company had projected—and billed me for, so most of the cost was credited to me. Ha! Let's see if I can repeat the trick over the winter.
2008-10-17
Veckans ord: tvivelaktiv
En skeptiker sitter inte bara och misstror i största allmänhet utan är tvivelaktiv och undersöker saken.
2008-10-12
And then there were 28…
When I left elementary school, I lost contact with my class mates, mostly without any regrets.
I was invited to a class reunion several years ago, but I couldn't attend, as I would be talking at a conference abroad at the same time. Still, I called the organiser and sent my greetings and I also asked whether a certain girl would be attending. (She never was my girlfriend, I didn't even think of it as an option at the time.)
“Err, she…she is no more.” Oh. Without asking for the cause of death I still wasn't very surprised.
Yesterday, the morning paper carried the death notice of a then-friend of mine (who was her boyfriend), torn from wife and children at an early age.
The countdown has begun.
I was invited to a class reunion several years ago, but I couldn't attend, as I would be talking at a conference abroad at the same time. Still, I called the organiser and sent my greetings and I also asked whether a certain girl would be attending. (She never was my girlfriend, I didn't even think of it as an option at the time.)
“Err, she…she is no more.” Oh. Without asking for the cause of death I still wasn't very surprised.
Yesterday, the morning paper carried the death notice of a then-friend of mine (who was her boyfriend), torn from wife and children at an early age.
The countdown has begun.
2008-10-11
2008-10-08
Button, button
August Strindberg coined the term knappologi (“buttonology”) for the purportedly scientific systematisation of trivial matters. Now, there really are people who are intensely interested in buttons, as I realised when I came across Neville Poulson's seven-volume work Buttons of the Indian army.
Looking a bit further brought up the web page of the British Button Society. I don't often agree with Strindberg and here, too, I am feeling very pleased to have found the buttonologists and that they are doing fine.
Looking a bit further brought up the web page of the British Button Society. I don't often agree with Strindberg and here, too, I am feeling very pleased to have found the buttonologists and that they are doing fine.
Films
Last week I managed to go the cinema twice in different constellations.
Porco Rosso could have been scripted by Richard Bach in its pæan to the joy and beauty of flying. The delicate drawing style of the Miyasaki studio is perfectly suited for the clean and elegant 1920s seaplanes and the characters' equally light and slim summer clothes, all set against the eternally sunlit blues of the Adriatic Sea and the Mediterranean sky. Yes, in a world like this even pigs have to fly. And I have to build more Macchi seaplanes.
Then WALL·E. Even though the rightful star was robbed of his role it is truly what I call a “holding-hands movie”—in several senses. We even find that by holding hands you can restore from backups you hadn't made. It is also a very Mac-friendly movie, EVE is clearly an iRobot (not the same as I, Robot) and apparently WALL·E runs some latter-day version of MacOS. That there are major plot inconsistencies is less of a problem. And of course the computer graphics are absolutely stunning, in particular when you don't even notice them unless you're knowledgeable enough to realise that every frame is the result of some really complex programming and extremely heavy computation.
Porco Rosso could have been scripted by Richard Bach in its pæan to the joy and beauty of flying. The delicate drawing style of the Miyasaki studio is perfectly suited for the clean and elegant 1920s seaplanes and the characters' equally light and slim summer clothes, all set against the eternally sunlit blues of the Adriatic Sea and the Mediterranean sky. Yes, in a world like this even pigs have to fly. And I have to build more Macchi seaplanes.
Then WALL·E. Even though the rightful star was robbed of his role it is truly what I call a “holding-hands movie”—in several senses. We even find that by holding hands you can restore from backups you hadn't made. It is also a very Mac-friendly movie, EVE is clearly an iRobot (not the same as I, Robot) and apparently WALL·E runs some latter-day version of MacOS. That there are major plot inconsistencies is less of a problem. And of course the computer graphics are absolutely stunning, in particular when you don't even notice them unless you're knowledgeable enough to realise that every frame is the result of some really complex programming and extremely heavy computation.
2008-10-07
2008-10-06
Mission accomplished
With patient scouring of Tradera I have finally completed my collection of all issues of Pilot from 1974 to 1980—the top years of the magazine.
Leafing through the magazines, I reflect that they probably have done quite a lot to shape my character (causation unclear, but certainly strengthening any pre-existing MÖPish tendencies). At the time I thought Pilot was among the coolest reading you could find; now I have a somewhat more nuanced attitude towards the magazines, but they have nostalgic value and indeed still serve as inspiration for many modelling projects.
So what can we find in them? Well, for one thing, aviation is presented as almost exclusively military aviation, and indeed, even the proportion of stories about infantry soldiers is many times the proportion of stories about civilian pilots. Natacha would have been completely out of place. To be further specific, when we say “military”, we are talking about World War II, with a smattering of World War I. There might have been one or two stories from the Korean War, but absolutely none about the Vietnam War. With time this was leavened with such characters as Dan Cooper, a contemporary pilot in the Canadian Air Force, and the occasional serialisation of Buck Danny adventures. It was notable how much higher the quality of the latter was both with regards to the drawing of aircraft and in the plot construction than in the more mass-produced Battler Britton adventures that were the mainstay. Now, with 30 more years of studies behind me, I tend to cringe at the depiction of the aircraft in many of the comics as the artists often seemed to have worked from pictures with no understanding of the system behind markings, camouflage or combat tactics.
The comics often revolved around several common themes: Sacrificing yourself for your buddies, redemption of past transgressions (often through death), honouring one's opponents, curing of temporary cowardice, not judging people too hastily and in particular not underestimating the nerdy-looking guy. I guess there could be worse morals.
During the period covered by my collection the magazine also contained quite a bit of aviation history and modelling-related material. Relatively superficial as forced by the limited space, but still data, profiles and often even three-view plans that encouraged further exploration. For some years Pilot even ran an inofficial Swedish championship in modelling based on photographs readers sent in of their models. There did not seem to be any cooperation between Pilot and IPMS, possibly their target groups were not considered to overlap, IPMS being for adults rather than the mainly tween audience of Pilot.
And then of course, regular competitions in which I won stuff every now and then, my Fritz von Flaxen keyring still dangles from the lamp on my modelling table…
Well, there they are, and at the top of my “unbuilt” stack waits a major conversion project inspired by plans in issue 13/1977, expect further reports.
2008-10-05
Ohne Titel
There was you and I
and the fishes.
We learned their names
in five languages.
And all their names were beautiful,
because there was
you and I.
and the fishes.
We learned their names
in five languages.
And all their names were beautiful,
because there was
you and I.
2008-10-04
Day of thunder, hour of power
Recently it was Perks time at work and we took off in the Friday afternoon to an undisclosed location that turned out to be an indoor gocart track where we were dressed in sweaty overalls and rather icky helmets and then took off around the track with the goal to complete as many laps as possible in one hour. It's rather sweaty stuff, this race driving, so we worked as tag teams, trading places every ten minutes.
My team ended up last, with the fewest laps. We were last already when I first got to drive and me pushing the pedal to the metal to make up for lost time just won me sojourns off-track, covered in the tyres that made up the crash barrier.
But anyway, here I am, doing the Steve McQueen thing:
My team ended up last, with the fewest laps. We were last already when I first got to drive and me pushing the pedal to the metal to make up for lost time just won me sojourns off-track, covered in the tyres that made up the crash barrier.
But anyway, here I am, doing the Steve McQueen thing:
2008-10-03
Veckans ord: paternostervärk
När man bett radbandet runt hundra gånger med reumatiska fingrar torde man ha en avsevärd paternostervärk.
2008-09-28
Oh, what a party!
With the celebration of my new bath room as pretext, I invited friends over yesterday. Some decided a safe distance would be Långban, Marstrand, Lisbon, or Cape Town, but rest assured, they will eventually be partied as well, resistance is futile.
For those that came, there was the usual miscellany of experimental food (Danish chicken sandwiches, Norwegian prince cake) and newly discovered fruit juices, teas and even a spot of Néscafe (I'm not a coffee drinker, OK?), yet I found stuff in the fridge this morning that I had forgotten to put on the table, but I hope nobody had to leave hungry. As usual, there was a certain coming and going so we didn't run out of chairs even at maximum occupancy when everybody decided to cram into the kitchen to paste various glops onto bread and munch away by the table. (My home-made shrimp margarine was a hit—it was gone long before I'd had a chance to taste it&hellip) A certain tension was discovered between those who wanted to discuss wireless networks and those who were more occupied with the upcoming Hobby Fair.
And I gots presents, from the scientifically excavated gun cartridges to colour matched towels.
As the day went on, only the most hardcore revellers remained, carefully going through my bookshelf and my stack of unbuilt models. (“What? I'm quite sure the Airfix Wellington was much larger when I was a kid!”)
My friends are bums.
In the end only the Only-begotten Son remained for some quality time and I tried to rack my brain for what I remembered of Maclaurin expansion—calculus is a bit hazy for me 25 years later… Eventually he returned to his studies and I could have a quick electronic exchange with Honeybuns, who hadn't been able to attend.
And then, to bed.
For those that came, there was the usual miscellany of experimental food (Danish chicken sandwiches, Norwegian prince cake) and newly discovered fruit juices, teas and even a spot of Néscafe (I'm not a coffee drinker, OK?), yet I found stuff in the fridge this morning that I had forgotten to put on the table, but I hope nobody had to leave hungry. As usual, there was a certain coming and going so we didn't run out of chairs even at maximum occupancy when everybody decided to cram into the kitchen to paste various glops onto bread and munch away by the table. (My home-made shrimp margarine was a hit—it was gone long before I'd had a chance to taste it&hellip) A certain tension was discovered between those who wanted to discuss wireless networks and those who were more occupied with the upcoming Hobby Fair.
And I gots presents, from the scientifically excavated gun cartridges to colour matched towels.
As the day went on, only the most hardcore revellers remained, carefully going through my bookshelf and my stack of unbuilt models. (“What? I'm quite sure the Airfix Wellington was much larger when I was a kid!”)
My friends are bums.In the end only the Only-begotten Son remained for some quality time and I tried to rack my brain for what I remembered of Maclaurin expansion—calculus is a bit hazy for me 25 years later… Eventually he returned to his studies and I could have a quick electronic exchange with Honeybuns, who hadn't been able to attend.
And then, to bed.
2008-09-26
Veckans ord: övervikt
Häromdagen satt jag med ett kuvert jag inte trodde jag skulle behöva och vek förstrött ihop det i lager på lager. Så visade det sig att jag visst skulle använda det och fick veckla ut det igen. Det var svårt att få in papperet i kuvertet som blivit alldeles övervikt.
2008-09-19
Word of the week: nose whee
The book I'm currently reading makes reference to a nose whee, certainly that is the exhilarating feeling I get stepping out on the apron and feeling the smell of jet fuel.
2008-09-14
The mauve bathroom is no more
Quite apart from the colour scheme, my bathroom has been in urgent need of renovation. In fact I have been rather concerned with the possibility of water damages. So now I had saved up enough money to afford the work and sent out queries on Bello. About half a dozen contractors responded and I asked them in to make cost estimates. These ranged from 25 kSEK to over a 100. Bello lets the customers give quality assessments of the contractors, so I could with good conscience drop the lowest bidders, as they seemed to perform at lowest quality as well. The highest bidder also had top marks for all criteria, but I just couldn't afford them, so the guy in the middle it was.
They did a decent enough job, though they left cement dust over absolutely everywhere. I'll be dusting it off the furniture from here to Christmas I fear. My downstairs neighbours were also rather upset when the contractors managed to smash through their ceiling, but they sorted things out without me having to take further part in the proceedings.
A bit to my surprise I found I have no pictures of the bathroom from before the renovation started, but here are a few shots from during the process itself.
They did a decent enough job, though they left cement dust over absolutely everywhere. I'll be dusting it off the furniture from here to Christmas I fear. My downstairs neighbours were also rather upset when the contractors managed to smash through their ceiling, but they sorted things out without me having to take further part in the proceedings.
A bit to my surprise I found I have no pictures of the bathroom from before the renovation started, but here are a few shots from during the process itself.
 |  |  |
| Tools, tiles and grout all over the hallway. | The walls torn out, the floor drain relocated. | Junk to be taken away. |
 |  |  |
| Nice new shower doors. | Blinding white porcelain. | Ivar FTW in the bathroom too. |
Douglas Adams meme
“He would put on the record of bagpipe music.”
Put a Douglas Adams quote in your blog.
Put a Douglas Adams quote in your blog.
2008-09-13
With determined steps towards the chasm
I have not been very productive at work lately. This is how it has gone:
It has been a fairly hot summer at times and the fans in my laptop got to sound squeakier and squeakier—worn out presumably. I got a repair ticket prepared at the company that does our hardware service and thought I'd drop off the laptop as I went on holidays. The last two weeks before this date the laptop in addition became very very slow, showing a beachball per keypress on average. Well, presumably this would be fixed during service.
So, I went on hols and dropped off the laptop at service. I also specifically requested they'd do a backup of the contents (separately priced option).
When I came back from holidays, the laptop had not been fixed. Call and remind them. A couple of days later I got a call that it was done. I went and picked it up. Yes, the fans were now smooth and silent. However, it was still very slow. Call service guys: “Thanks for the fans, but the laptop is running very slowly, didn't you notice that when you tested it?” “No, we just tested the fans.” “You could hardly have turned it on without noticing…” “You probably just need to reinstall the system.”
Hmm, that would be a major operation. Well, but why might it be running so slowly to begin with? Poke around console logs and error messages. Hmm, here's a weird message being emitted every ten seconds, but what does it mean? Google for relevant bits and find discussion on blogs: “The disk has been overheated, get a new one.” Oh, I can still read from the disk, but apparently it's going to get worse. OK, so I need a new disk. I'd better call the service guys again: “Hi, it seems I need to replace the hard disk, lucky that you have a fresh backup for me!” “Uhmm, eh, actually, no, we don't.” “What? But I asked for a backup and you said you keep them around for two to three weeks.” “Uh, eh, well, no, we wiped it, uh, yesterday. Probably we were running out of disk space.”
Effing brill! OK, now what? I'll have to do a backup of my own. Procure disk. Yeah, this has an earlier backup of mine on it, but I'll have to throw it away to fit in the new backup. (Simplification of the real reasons, but the result is the same.) Done. Now, to start the backup. *grind* *grind* *grind* Eventually it is clear that at this rate of performance it will take approximately two weeks to back up my hard disk, unless it breaks down finally first. Well, what to do? Grin and bear it. I wonder how the service guys managed to make a backup in less than a day. Yet another call gives only vague and clearly unworkable answers.
A consequence of the backup is that I can't lock up the laptop in the safe for the night, as the two-week estimate is based on uninterrupted transfer. Well, what to do? So this goes on for a week and a half, and then when I get in one morning I meet a grinning colleague: “Guess whose laptop got stolen in the burglary last night?” Of course… And while the burglars had been as cock-snookingly polite as to leave the external hard disk on the table, the interrupted backup had been corrupted and was unreadable.
*sigh* Now what? “Maybe you can take the little white one?” OK. Hmm, it seems hung somehow. “Yeah, it's a bit dodgy, you have to do a remote install on it to get it running.” Install. Install. Incompatibility. Re-install. When I finally am on the way to get things up and running, the dreaded lurgy strikes and I'm bedridden. Now I'm on my second week of coughing, missing deadlines left and right.
Life, don't talk to me about Life!
It has been a fairly hot summer at times and the fans in my laptop got to sound squeakier and squeakier—worn out presumably. I got a repair ticket prepared at the company that does our hardware service and thought I'd drop off the laptop as I went on holidays. The last two weeks before this date the laptop in addition became very very slow, showing a beachball per keypress on average. Well, presumably this would be fixed during service.
So, I went on hols and dropped off the laptop at service. I also specifically requested they'd do a backup of the contents (separately priced option).
When I came back from holidays, the laptop had not been fixed. Call and remind them. A couple of days later I got a call that it was done. I went and picked it up. Yes, the fans were now smooth and silent. However, it was still very slow. Call service guys: “Thanks for the fans, but the laptop is running very slowly, didn't you notice that when you tested it?” “No, we just tested the fans.” “You could hardly have turned it on without noticing…” “You probably just need to reinstall the system.”
Hmm, that would be a major operation. Well, but why might it be running so slowly to begin with? Poke around console logs and error messages. Hmm, here's a weird message being emitted every ten seconds, but what does it mean? Google for relevant bits and find discussion on blogs: “The disk has been overheated, get a new one.” Oh, I can still read from the disk, but apparently it's going to get worse. OK, so I need a new disk. I'd better call the service guys again: “Hi, it seems I need to replace the hard disk, lucky that you have a fresh backup for me!” “Uhmm, eh, actually, no, we don't.” “What? But I asked for a backup and you said you keep them around for two to three weeks.” “Uh, eh, well, no, we wiped it, uh, yesterday. Probably we were running out of disk space.”
Effing brill! OK, now what? I'll have to do a backup of my own. Procure disk. Yeah, this has an earlier backup of mine on it, but I'll have to throw it away to fit in the new backup. (Simplification of the real reasons, but the result is the same.) Done. Now, to start the backup. *grind* *grind* *grind* Eventually it is clear that at this rate of performance it will take approximately two weeks to back up my hard disk, unless it breaks down finally first. Well, what to do? Grin and bear it. I wonder how the service guys managed to make a backup in less than a day. Yet another call gives only vague and clearly unworkable answers.
A consequence of the backup is that I can't lock up the laptop in the safe for the night, as the two-week estimate is based on uninterrupted transfer. Well, what to do? So this goes on for a week and a half, and then when I get in one morning I meet a grinning colleague: “Guess whose laptop got stolen in the burglary last night?” Of course… And while the burglars had been as cock-snookingly polite as to leave the external hard disk on the table, the interrupted backup had been corrupted and was unreadable.
*sigh* Now what? “Maybe you can take the little white one?” OK. Hmm, it seems hung somehow. “Yeah, it's a bit dodgy, you have to do a remote install on it to get it running.” Install. Install. Incompatibility. Re-install. When I finally am on the way to get things up and running, the dreaded lurgy strikes and I'm bedridden. Now I'm on my second week of coughing, missing deadlines left and right.
Life, don't talk to me about Life!
2008-09-12
Veckans ord: Krigslida
Förr behövde man bara hålla sig undan för stridspittarna och deras lumparhistorier, men med kvinnornas intåg i Försvarsmakten kan man nu också hitta en och annan Krigslida i terrängen.
2008-09-11
Machtübernahme von hinter die Regalen
Martin R anar konspirationer i vassen:
– Samhällets mest rasrena härskarstam är bibliotekarierna.
Jag:
– De är ju dock i allmänhet alltför otränade för att klara att ta makten med våld, men den dagen de går ihop med gymnazisterna får vi se upp.
– En dag kommer all deras storhet att bara vara gamla papper som tas om hand av de veka och degenererade arkivarierna.
– Fast om de påbörjar en avelskampanj med seminarier?
– Samhällets mest rasrena härskarstam är bibliotekarierna.
Jag:
– De är ju dock i allmänhet alltför otränade för att klara att ta makten med våld, men den dagen de går ihop med gymnazisterna får vi se upp.
– En dag kommer all deras storhet att bara vara gamla papper som tas om hand av de veka och degenererade arkivarierna.
– Fast om de påbörjar en avelskampanj med seminarier?
2008-08-29
Veckans ord: bågsekund
En bågsekund är den sträcka man hinner på en sekund med en motorcykel. I innerstaden är den betydligt längre än en bilsekund.
2008-08-28
Kul med språket: Obfuskera Svenskans recension av De Välvilliga och utge den för att vara från Expressens sportsidor
Anders Myrin lever i en parallell värld:
Och hur skulle det kunna vara – annorlunda? Varken de hårdföra sidorna hos Lagerbäck (de disciplinära och rationella bevekelsegrunderna), eller hans själsligt ”förmildrande omständigheter” (i synnerhet hans bokstavligen livsfarliga hemlighet: homosexualiteten), som psykologiskt skulle kunna klarlägga hans beteende, kan längre rädda honom från det Kainsmärke han i någon gudomlig mening tvingas bära. Och det i tid och evighet, hur många välvilliga eumenider som än korsar hans väg mot den egna triviala döden.
2008-08-24
Love in the Old Town
I just got back from the Old Town where I've seen a promenade performance of Romeo and Juliet. The young actors made skilful use of the geography and chronology, starting with the prologue in the evening sunshine on Stortorget, the play meandering through alleys, squares and passages while the sun set and the final tragic deaths took place in dark night behind the cathedral. The musical accompaniment ranged from ”Mamma är lik sin mamma” to Gregorian Dies iræ. The Old Town takes on a special kind of magic late at night when the tourists have returned to their hotels and cruise ships, when the noise dies down and the cobble-stoned alleys are lit by street lamps and light filtering down from house windows. (And there is no cause for nostalgia, because the streets were never so clean nor well-lit, nor the people so healthy and wealthy, in the days of either Birger Jarl, Gustaf Vasa, Bellman, August Blanche, or Nils Ferlin.)
There are still a few performances left this coming week. Do not put it off, run and go see!
2008-08-23
Friends in high places
I visited friends living on the top floor of a Lidingö high-rise with an astounding view of Stockholm. My camera has a night scene setting, but even resting the camera on a surface it's difficult to hold it still long enough to get a good picture, but oh what a beautiful city this is!
Veckans ord: cellofan
Somliga dagar, när ingenting stämmer och vädret är vidrigt, är cellon extra tung på väg hem från fiolläraren och då är man rätt trött på cellofan.
2008-08-17
Sittin' on the dock of the bay
A friend, dearly beloved not only by me but many others, turned forty yesterday and the circle of friends was quietly convened for a surprise party in the archipelago. Like champagne-toting ninjas all converged on the island cottage where the unsuspecting target was spending the day and suddenly burst into the living room, waving glasses and handing over presents. Food and drink was prepared and consumed.
A group like this, composed almost exclusively of programmers and system administrators, has its own special way of talking, not only in its choice of subjects, where the mere mention of a software version number causes meaning nods, but in the way humour is applied, in rapid slap-downs of Stupidity, egregious examples of incompetence, shortsightedness, and inefficiency displayed for the others for comment and mocking, Technical Solutions to Social Problems proposed and elaborated. With few words, tips and suggestions were traded and arcane knowledge was passed on, keeping the networks running smoothly yet a while, holding chaos at bay. I silently marvelled at this concentration of intimidatingly skilled and bright people, invisibly doing their part to keep civilization intact.
A contingent left with the last boat to the mainland, the rest continued talking yet a while, but well after midnight withdrew to berths on their boats. A final group of hardy and close friends stayed up talking and singing. My last memories are of ”Balladen om briggen Blue Bird av Hull” being sung some time around three in the morning as I lay in my sleeping bag in the loft.
A few hours later it was time for me to groggily get up and catch the first morning boat. All alone in the fresh dawn I walked the short distance through the fir copses down to the jetty, raised the semaphor to flag down the boat and sat down on the jetty to wait, squinting in the near-horizontal sunlight.
I reflected that I was on the north side of the island where the glacial ice sheets once had come and scoured the rocks smooth, on the south side the rocks would be more broken up as the ice had left the island there. So you should be able to tell compass directions by looking at how smooth the rocks are, much in the same manner as locating ant hills or where the boughs are densest on the trees.
Then came the boat that took me to the bus that took me into town.
A group like this, composed almost exclusively of programmers and system administrators, has its own special way of talking, not only in its choice of subjects, where the mere mention of a software version number causes meaning nods, but in the way humour is applied, in rapid slap-downs of Stupidity, egregious examples of incompetence, shortsightedness, and inefficiency displayed for the others for comment and mocking, Technical Solutions to Social Problems proposed and elaborated. With few words, tips and suggestions were traded and arcane knowledge was passed on, keeping the networks running smoothly yet a while, holding chaos at bay. I silently marvelled at this concentration of intimidatingly skilled and bright people, invisibly doing their part to keep civilization intact.
A contingent left with the last boat to the mainland, the rest continued talking yet a while, but well after midnight withdrew to berths on their boats. A final group of hardy and close friends stayed up talking and singing. My last memories are of ”Balladen om briggen Blue Bird av Hull” being sung some time around three in the morning as I lay in my sleeping bag in the loft.
A few hours later it was time for me to groggily get up and catch the first morning boat. All alone in the fresh dawn I walked the short distance through the fir copses down to the jetty, raised the semaphor to flag down the boat and sat down on the jetty to wait, squinting in the near-horizontal sunlight.
I reflected that I was on the north side of the island where the glacial ice sheets once had come and scoured the rocks smooth, on the south side the rocks would be more broken up as the ice had left the island there. So you should be able to tell compass directions by looking at how smooth the rocks are, much in the same manner as locating ant hills or where the boughs are densest on the trees.
Then came the boat that took me to the bus that took me into town.
Let them eat cake
On my first trip to the United States we were in San Francisco when the US Fathers' Day coincided with the birthday of the Only-begotten children's mother, and she decided we should get a cake to celebrate the joint event. So we went out for a walk to locate a cakery. We noted that US cakes were considerably more imaginative than the usual Swedish choices of Black Forest Cake and Princess cake, often making up entire stages with dinosaurs in primeval forests, Dorothy with friends on the Yellow Brick Road and so on. We still settled for a fairly simple chocolate cake. I, having just withdrawn cash, took out a fifty-dollar note to pay with at which the guy behind the counter hissed:
“Put that down! Do you want to get killed!?”
Oh, apparently I hadn't gotten the current USD/life rate right.
I found smaller denominations to pay with and then we repaired to our hotel room.
I had a little bit of cake and found it very rich. The OBCM, considering herself a major league cake-eater, had a larger bit but had obvious difficulty finishing it all.
“It's (oof) rather rich…”
We looked at the cake, its full caloric content now apparent to us, realising we wouldn't ever be able to finish it. Accordingly we invited all our travelling companions. They eagerly took a piece of cake each and their widening eyes showed they also found it quite rich. After some forty male engineering students in the prime of their lives had had a piece of cake each we still had half the cake left. We decided it would probably do as a tip for the cleaning staff.
Since then, I consider American cake as a weapon of waist destruction. There is a blog dedicated to other kinds of cake-related disasters: Cake Wrecks.
“Put that down! Do you want to get killed!?”
Oh, apparently I hadn't gotten the current USD/life rate right.
I found smaller denominations to pay with and then we repaired to our hotel room.
I had a little bit of cake and found it very rich. The OBCM, considering herself a major league cake-eater, had a larger bit but had obvious difficulty finishing it all.
“It's (oof) rather rich…”
We looked at the cake, its full caloric content now apparent to us, realising we wouldn't ever be able to finish it. Accordingly we invited all our travelling companions. They eagerly took a piece of cake each and their widening eyes showed they also found it quite rich. After some forty male engineering students in the prime of their lives had had a piece of cake each we still had half the cake left. We decided it would probably do as a tip for the cleaning staff.
Since then, I consider American cake as a weapon of waist destruction. There is a blog dedicated to other kinds of cake-related disasters: Cake Wrecks.
2008-08-14
Still un(der)determined
An earlier test indicated I was gender neutral. Now I did Mike On Ads' gender test based on web browser history and got the result:
Likelihood of you being FEMALE is 50%
Likelihood of you being MALE is 50%
Interestingly enough in this case the result seems to be due to the sites I normally visit not being in the statistics database used, so again I'm simply a different kind of weirdo.
Likelihood of you being FEMALE is 50%
Likelihood of you being MALE is 50%
Interestingly enough in this case the result seems to be due to the sites I normally visit not being in the statistics database used, so again I'm simply a different kind of weirdo.
2008-08-13
2008-08-12
“Nature”
“Nature” is one of those words I suspect doesn't actually have any meaning. When the Only-begotten son was little I came along with his class on an excursion in a nearby forest. Everyone was to pick up something that could be found “in the nature” and then tell a bit about it. I picked up a plastic bag I found along the way. The children in the class were very dubious. (The teachers were probably dubious too, but they were too polite to contradict me.) “Plastic bags don't exist in nature!” I found it in the forest, isn't the forest nature? “But they're not made from natural things!” They're made of oil, and oil exists in nature. “But you have to do things to the oil.” That squirrel-gnawed pine cone has also been done things to. “But…”
The converse is things that are “unnatural” or “against nature”. These actually seem to have a definition, they are “phenomena that the speaker personally dislikes”. But in reality, things that are unnatural simply cannot exist. The laws of nature are strict*, but you will never be punished for breaking them. Nobody will ever drag you to court for having exceeded the speed of light in vacuum. You will never get sued for having destroyed energy. You will simply just never do it. Accordingly, if you suspect something is against nature, your understanding is incorrect, go study some more.
* So our understanding of the laws may be incomplete, but that's a different matter. (Or energy.)
The converse is things that are “unnatural” or “against nature”. These actually seem to have a definition, they are “phenomena that the speaker personally dislikes”. But in reality, things that are unnatural simply cannot exist. The laws of nature are strict*, but you will never be punished for breaking them. Nobody will ever drag you to court for having exceeded the speed of light in vacuum. You will never get sued for having destroyed energy. You will simply just never do it. Accordingly, if you suspect something is against nature, your understanding is incorrect, go study some more.
* So our understanding of the laws may be incomplete, but that's a different matter. (Or energy.)
2008-08-11
Empty in one sense
I open a tin of Grebbestads anchovies. I pour off the liquid and find there's nothing left in the tin. Oh well, I don't really like anchovies all that much anyway…
2008-08-10
Notes from the underground
I sit across from a grumpy old man on the tube. Suddenly he looks up and realises he's missed his station. He laughs at himself and his own obliviousness and as he smiles his entire face unfolds like an origami puzzle and I realise he is much younger than I had assumed and indeed an open and friendly person. Where did he come from?
2008-08-09
2008-08-05
Even more impressive
Björn and Benny have lately made themselves known as rationalists and this old ABBA song (that I completely had missed) proves that this is not a recent idea of theirs.
Stormy weather
I finally got to meet Martin R's delightful family. I considered for a moment taking it over, but relented.
As I rode the bus out to Martin's summer house in the archipelago, the sun was shining brightly but during the day clouds rolled in with increasing winds and as night fell a full storm developed. I lay awake a long while, watching the wind blowing wild waves across the bay and bending the trees on the isle.
In the morning the wind had abated somewhat but sheets and veils of rain still ran across the sea. As we packed and decamped I got rather wet but now at home with my fluffy bathrobe around me and sweet peppermint tea inside me I am feeling very pleased with having braved the elements.
As I rode the bus out to Martin's summer house in the archipelago, the sun was shining brightly but during the day clouds rolled in with increasing winds and as night fell a full storm developed. I lay awake a long while, watching the wind blowing wild waves across the bay and bending the trees on the isle.
In the morning the wind had abated somewhat but sheets and veils of rain still ran across the sea. As we packed and decamped I got rather wet but now at home with my fluffy bathrobe around me and sweet peppermint tea inside me I am feeling very pleased with having braved the elements.
2008-08-04
Feeding frenzy
Killer slugs, caught on a sidewalk on Lidingö. It seems they are feasting on one of their own. Their eating action looked quite interesting, so I tried to make a video as well, but my camera doesn't have sufficient video quality.
2008-08-03
There and back again
Yesterday my friend Stellan showed me that it's possible to go on a day trip abroad for all of 60 SEK. To be more precise, we went to Åland with M/S Eckerö. The ridiculously low price, including bus travel Stockholm ↔ Grisslehamn, is clearly intended to be compensated by you buying lots of taxfree booze. They made a loss on us.
On Eckerö you end up basically in the middle of nowhere, which was just what we needed—we walked down the coast, found a nice rock cleft and then sat there the rest of the day watching the waves and a flock of eiders catching fish. (Well, I took the opportunity to send off a few messages around the world, but mostly I did nothing too.)
Still, a bit strange to travel several hundred kilometres just for the pleasure to do nothing.
On Eckerö you end up basically in the middle of nowhere, which was just what we needed—we walked down the coast, found a nice rock cleft and then sat there the rest of the day watching the waves and a flock of eiders catching fish. (Well, I took the opportunity to send off a few messages around the world, but mostly I did nothing too.)
Still, a bit strange to travel several hundred kilometres just for the pleasure to do nothing.
2008-08-02
Cover me, I'm going in!
I have been on holidays before, but it's been for family trips or other travel. Now I have two mostly unscheduled weeks before me and feel a bit trepidated.
If I start blogging about my navel lint or sound otherwise delirious, come and pull me out!
If I start blogging about my navel lint or sound otherwise delirious, come and pull me out!
2008-08-01
Word of the Week: streptease
Someone who just gives you a quick kiss that still causes a sore throat is obviously a streptease.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
