Poms

I know I’ve ranted about this before, but it still drives me barmy. (And I can’t be arsed to hunt for earlier postings about it) I simply don’t understand the people who chose to live in a place, then complain about the noise. The newly christened Britain’s noisiest house backs onto a tram-line, and registers about 95dB. Fair enough, that’s loud – but the current occupants have been there for three years, and the tram line has been there for about ten. The tram was there way before they moved in, yet they still piss and moan, and enter themselves in this competition in order to complain.

In a similar story, a whining bastard has moved near Manchester’s Night and Day bar, a well known venue. They moved in less than a year ago – Night&Day has been there for thirteen years – and is now complaining about the noise, which may force the venue to close, or limit itself to bands with only one or two members.

In both cases, established items are being complained about by people who’ve moved into a new home completely aware (or at least they should be completely aware – if not, they’re just utter fuckheads and deserve everything they get) of what’s around them, or at the end of the garden. If I were to move anywhere, I’d want to visit the new place at different times, and do some research about the area – that way you find out about things like sewage farms, tram/train-lines, football stadiums, nightclubs, music venues, whatever. That seems to be simple logic – but of course that’s beyond most people.

And while I remember, I don’t have a problem with it (as much) when the people have been there before the noise-source, and are then complaining. Fair enough, although they should have also pissed and moaned at planning meetings etc. At least I can understand it when that’s the problem – but not when people move into somewhere with an established noise source or whatever.

</rant>

A Good Idea?

This should definitely be filed under “Idea, Bloody Stupid”.

The Jaguar F1 team decided to get involved in promoting a film during the Monaco Grand Prix at the weekend. Both Jaguar cars had a £140,000 flawless diamond embedded in the nosecone. Sounds like a good news-worthy plan so far?

Except Christian Klein, one of the drivers, crashed – and the diamond disappeared. All of a sudden, it’s not sounding like such a smart plan. No-one knows where the stone is – and I love the quote from the Guardian’s coverage of the story.

“Someone here has walked away with more than a motor racing souvenir.”

Tied Up

via BSAG, I found one of the oddest, and geekiest pages around. Secure knots for shoelaces. I can say nothing else on this matter…

The M-Word

Dear God preserve us all, it’s Monday. For the first time in ages I’m beginning to develop a deep dislike of Mondays. Things just seem to happen, with no good reason.

Last week the powers-that-be decided that the contractors working for them are basically untrustworthy. So now, as well as the timesheet I fill in for the agency (of which the council gets two copies) and and timesheet I fill in within my particular department, I now have to fill in another one which supposedly lists all the time I spend in and out of the office, and also what time I spend on each particular piece of work for the council. Yup, three timesheets. Never let it be said that local authorities are short on bureaucrats and bean-counters.

Of course there’s a problem with this – well actually, there are several. In the spirit of cross-department communication, the two “official” council timesheets manage to be completely different – not just in format and appearance, but even down to the method of time notation. On one you type in the proper time, i.e. “9:20”. On the other, it has to be expressed as a fraction, i.e. “9.33333”. And the two will never add up to the same hours. The one I’ve been using just does (for example) 9:30 to 13:00, 13:30 to 16:30 = 6½ hours. Simple. The other one will end up as 9.5 – 10.75, 10.8 – 13.0, 13.5 – 16.5 = close to 6½, but not quite, because I stepped out of the office to make a phone call. But – and this is where it gets fun – because the fucknuggets want all three timesheets to add up to the same figures.

Mission Improbable.

Geek-o-rama

It had to happen sometime. Westminster Council has started installing CCTV cameras that use a wireless (WiFi) network, instead of hardwired lines. So far it’s only being trialled in Soho, but I can see that it’ll be taken up on a far wider scale before long.

It’s far more cost effective than installing fixed hard-wired cameras, and also means that should it be discovered that they’re in the wrong place, or just need more, it’s a comparatively easy task to sort it out. Supposedly council workers will also be able to use the entire thing as part of a WAN (Wide Area Network) and do their work outside. Knowing local authorities, I wonder how long it’ll be ’til some nice person uses AirSnort to try and get into the network.

There are definite security issues with this kind of thing. Unless the WAN sits in a buffer zone (and again, that pre-assumes IT staff with decent knowledge of wireless networking etc.) then it’ll be possible for unauthorised people to get into the entire council network. Also, it means that the CCTV images will be being transmitted through the air, and are thus catchable (and perhaps editable) by anyone with the right equipment.

It used to be that “with the right equipment” in this context meant “security services”, but now it could be anyone. Even my little laptop has the power and ability to sniff a wireless network, and figure out passwords etc. I know it has, because I’ve done it. (*ahem* only when authorised to do so, of course *cough*) So – in theory at least – it may just be pretty easy to get onto that part of the network. I think it’s something I’m going to have a go at next time I’m down in London…

Weekend Off – Part 2

God, I chose a good weekend to do nothing. It’s been glorious sunny all weekend, and I’ve spent the time mainly outside, going brown. If I’d been in town today, I’d have been limited by the joys of The Great Manchester Run, and quite honestly I didn’t want to be in crowds and so on. So I’ve been happy just outside, reading, catching up on letters and so on.

Next weekend I’ve got The Parents^™ here, so having a break this weekend has probably been an exceptionally good thing. I know I feel a lot more relaxed, and I’ve caught up on some sleep and headspace, and feel about 1000&percent; better than I did during the week.

Now it’s just “looking forward” to Monday. Oh goody…

Passionate

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been looking more and more at people who are passionate about what they do, and have an obvious love of their chosen work. Seeing Michael Marshal Smith and Nicholas Royle was part of that – as I said yesterday, two men who are successful, and love their work. In today’s Guardian (and also in last week’s and next week’s) there have been photos by the photographer Stephen Gill. To me, this man’s work is fascinating – he takes portraits in series, for example of people lost in London and asking for directions, or (from this week’s Guardian) people on one particular train. I love quirky series like this, particularly when it involves normal members of the public, and facets of their lives.

I find myself really quite in awe of people this passionate about their work. In general it seems to mainly involve the more creative disciplines (and it’s just taken me a minute to think of the word “discipline” there) although it can include so many different things – even websites and blogging can be part of that passion, in the right hands. It’s still comparatively rare to see, but to me seeing that obvious passion is a wonderful thing.