Author: bob

Brief reminders

I was reminded of something tonight. The son who picks up information like a hoover, asks me all sorts of questions about science (“Why did people know that if a helicopter had just a main rotor, the helicopter would spin round?”) and often has his nose in a book is also the lad who is still the right age to occasionally want to make a bed specially for his teddy bear and tuck it in goodnight.

I was reminded of something else this afternoon. We were walking back from town, it was very sunny and K had a green balloon which was casting a green shadow on the floor, even though our bodies were all casting normal black/dark ones. K asked “Why is the shadow green?” and we said that the sun shines on the path but our bodies get in the way and act like a wall because they don’t let any light through. The sun shines on another bit of the path and the balloon gets in the way… K immediately piped up “It only lets the green light through” 🙂 J then asked the very sensible question “Why are our shadows not completely black?” and I was still a bit staggered by K’s understanding that I fluffed describing light bouncing off other things like walls to get to the path. I was reminded that I have two sons with a brain.

I wasn’t reminded as such, more learned, yesterday that L throws as well as her brothers. Very impressive.

Masochism and profit

I gave up three lunchtimes this week being masochistic. I actually invited salespeople from three different double-glazing companies round to talk me into buying their windows. It reminded me rather unpleasantly of how bad salespeople, and double-glazing salespeople in particular, can be. To be fair, only one of the three – representing a large well-known company – was this bad; the other two didn’t make me feel stupid for rejecting a “this offer leaves when I do” deal because they’re not made to do that by the company they work for.

I’m glad I waited for a while after blogging about this because now the anger has subsided and I won’t waste words on behaviour I find objectionable. I can console myself by thinking I kept him out of other people’s homes for an hour, so I was doing a public service.

Something useful did come out of this though, which was a good chat with J and K about pushy salespeople and payment by commission, which continued with just J into buying and selling, profit, competition and advertising. It helps that Katy has some relatives who run their own business, so J and K can see that not all people who sell for a living (among other things) get Daddy foaming at the mouth.

I want one for our bath

A prototype from Japan for writing on water using waves.

The boys have got a toy plane that happens to be a stealth fighter, and I told J that it was hard to see with radar. He asked how this was, and I told him that special paint on the plane cancels out the radar waves, and I’d tell him more when we went to Hunstanton, by drawing on the beach. Due to the unpleasant weather and cramming lots of things in this didn’t happen.

He reminded me of this tonight and I told him that it would have to wait till tomorrow but there’s an interesting thing that uses the same physics (the Japanese writing bath thing) which impressed him appropriately and got him off to bed. So tomorrow, if he remembers, we’ll be talking about the superposition of waves. I don’t think I’ll use the word superposition, probably adding instead.

On the way up to bed he asked me in a slightly worried voice “If the President of America finds out that we’re talking about this will he get cross with us?” I asked him what he meant, and he was worried about the wave stuff (not stealth technology) and I said it was just the special paint on the stealth plane that was secret. The physics itself was alright, and his aunt, grandfather, grandmother etc. all knew it already. Phew! Not about to be carted off by Americans in dark glasses just yet, then.

I am from (Bob)

I finally got around to doing this, and then nearly bottled out of actually posting it. If you want to see how these things should really be done, look at one by Jax or Merry and I’m sure Katy could do a better one too. If you fancy doing one yourself, and to see the original poem it’s modelled on here are some instructions.

I am from the cul-de-sac and the main road, from Araldite and the S-shaped skid mark I made with my trike.

I am from the hard and slippery parquet floor lit with light from the French windows.

I am from the mock orange bush hidden in blossom, the yellow daffodils on a green lawn that I tried to miss when I flew from the swing.

I am from shunning service station food and eating in the carpark from orange stacking lunchbox trays, each with a drum kit of tupperware lids and a little inkwell of tomato ketchup. From Chris and Joan and not many others.

I am from maths from Dad and cuddles from Mum and Buddy Holly tapes played in the car.

From being too southern, too spotty, too poor at sport and too clever.

I am from “You’re not getting me in that dump again”, from being washed clean under a gushing tap, from slowly, fitfully building a relationship that I sometimes stretch like elastic. From mind and heart and song and quiet.

I am from two different commuter belts, home-grown tomatoes and really short mince pies.

From the end of the holiday on the boat, Dad’s spanner slipping and smashing his glasses. From the drive home with the boat behind the car, Mum reading the signs and Dad negotiating town centre traffic by feel.

I am from home cine film free from Dad’s work showing holidays on the beach, and a photo of a happy but squashed Daddy being a bus to two sons, a daughter and a nephew pinned up next to black work words on white work paper.

What kind of genius are you?

There was an interesting article in Wired about two kinds of genius. As well as the content itself being interesting, it got me thinking. My own industry (computer software) is traditionally seen as somewhere for bright young men (ageism and sexism unfortunately intentional). It’s a little saddening looking around the office sometimes and thinking “How many people here are over 40?” and “Where does everyone go when they get over 39? Is this Logan’s Run (with 10 years’ grace) or something?” This is getting increasingly relevant for me as, apart from in church, I’m no longer of an age where I can be described as young.

There are the normal arguments against ageism, to do with the value of experience, diversity of views and so on, but this article suggests that some people are late developers – their experience isn’t just an end in itself, but is a means to producing better and better work.

The article is a bit like the hare and the tortoise, except both win. I’ve a sneaky feeling I’d prefer to be the tortoise in the long run in this instance though. It must be bittersweet to be the young genius who then peters out, unable to live up to their own reputation and unable to do the great things again. The lesser work of later years is probably still amazing, but no-one wants to know as it’s not the spectacular quality from the beginning. Dying young, before you fade, is a rather terminal way of protecting your reputation.

I’m obviously still in training for my late-developing genius phase.

Pros and cons

Sunday provided a pair of constrasting moments to illustrate being a dad to small children, and its effects on parental mental health.

Sunday afternoon: Katy was out with J, and I thought that after I’d caught up with some boring chores that K, L and I all deserved a drink and a Little Something and then a cuddle up on the sofa to watch The Jungle Book. Eventually L dropped off to sleep (hurrah!) cuddled in one of my arms, and in the other K chatted to me about what was going on in the story, laughed, got sad when Baloo was heroic and didn’t mind when I sang along with the songs. Of course this was all good natural history and hence very Home Educational. This was very nice.

Not so nice was L really not wanting to go to sleep on Sunday evening. After more chores I thought that a bit of You’ve Got Mail would be brainless relaxation and also thought that L would eventually cuddle me or Katy and go to sleep. This did eventually happen, but two excerpts from her To Do list for the evening are reproduced below:

…

117 Empty cars from the bucket over the sofa (again).
118 Offer some to Daddy (again).
119 Accept them back from Daddy (again).
120 Play with them for a bit on the sofa (again). Maybe climb up onto the sofa/Daddy as part of this.
121 With Daddy’s help, put them back into the bucket (again).
122 Take the cars over to Mummy and offer one to her (again). If any cars drop out on the way, bend down to pick them up, which may cause more to drop out. Pick them all up and continue to Mummy.
123 After Mummy’s toy car needs are met, walk back to Daddy (again). Previous comment about dropping applies here too.
124 Empty cars from the bucket over the sofa (again).
125 Offer some to Daddy (again).
…
…
756 Go to sleep.

Moving blog home

I know, I know, I can’t stop fiddling. The blog is now in its permanent home, with hopefully everything working as it did before. If you notice anything wrong or broken I’d be grateful if you let me know. What I thought would be a 5 minute job ended up taking 2 and a half hours, and involved minor brain surgery on the WordPress database tables – grrr… MySQL auto-commit grrr… (Gory details available only on request.) I now have a better idea of what to do if I ever have to do this kind of thing again, and it showed how nicely put together WordPress is internally – all this for free 🙂 !