On a Wing, a Prayer, and a family sized Tub of Sunburn Soother

Sunderland International Airshow 2010

I like airshows. I wouldn't expect to, I have less than zero interest in mechanics, engineering and the collection of, or playing with, various gubbins. Well, not unless they're yarn related anyway... but I do like airshows. Most of them are hard to get to on public transport or prohibitively expensive to get in, but Sunderland is different. The displays are held over the sea, for a start off, there's a metro station about 15 mins walk away... and it's free.

So, it's on the coast, it was a semi overcast weekend, and those of you who know me will know exactly what that means. Sunburn. OOOh, yes, did I get sunburned - when I took the specs off on Saturday night, there were two little white half moons under my eyes, the rest looked like boiled lobster. Ouch. Of course, this happens at least once a year - for some reason the slight haze and cool breeze at the coast both con me into forgetting that I frazzle as easily as a small snowball dropped into the third circle of Hell.

Anyway, enough bitching and whinging. Pictures were taken. Some of the following were taken by The Welshman, used with permission and all rights retained etc...

First up, the Royal Commandos supported by HMS Winchester attempt to rid the beach of Tourists! uh, I mean, Terrorists!










Um, you keep at it, lads. I'll be sure to send you some coffee over some time in November...

Next post, some actual planes...

Photo of the Week 4

Once again we visit Leeds Canal Basin. This time we can see a wonderful juxtaposition of one of the most recent buildings in Leeds, and one of the oldest complete ones.

Bridgewater Place (also known as the Dalek) was completed in 2005 and is still the tallest building in both Leeds and West Yorkshire. It is an office / residential complex with retail units at the bottom - thus bringing one step closer the old Sci Fi standby of living, playing and working all in one building. It is a very striking building and can be seen from up to 40km away. There's a particularly good view of it coming into the railway station on my line. Linky above to wikipedia for the curious.

The building in the foreground is now also offices, but was built as a warehouse at the terminal of the Canal - spot the large door opening straight onto the water for lading from the backs of boats. It is so literally at the end of the Canal that Lock no.1, the lock connecting the Canal to the river, stands right next to it. There is a blue heritage plaque on the side (it is a listed building) which reads:

"In 1777 this robust stone building was constructed as a terminal warehouse for the Leeds Liverpool Canal. Started in 1770 the canal was finally completed in 1816 at a cost of £1,200,000 - nearly five times the original estimate"

So... Hot... Mellllttttinnnngggggg...

It's been a bit warm here recently. Just a bit. In fact, they've been predicting yet another record-breaking day here in the UK this weekend.

Seems we have one of those every year. And they say global warming is a myth ;)

Not a lot has been getting done - the humidity means the knitting yarn is binding to the needles and besides, knitting with hot sweaty hands is a recipe for felted socks. There was a massive Clean Up of House due to welcome visitors the other week, which has inspired me to try to maintain the home in some semblance of neatness. You know, like a so-called normal person? Here's hoping... Though at the moment, laying around sucking ice cubes is more attractive. Even the cats are trying to get every inch of their skin onto the cool kitchen tiles in an attempt to reach a more civilised temperature. Not that those delinquents are ever civilised.

Even the reading is suffering. There are two books on the go right now and they both need more brain power to process than my crispy fried neurons seem capable of providing.

Your Inner Fish, by Neil Shubin, is an account of the finding of Tiktaalik - the earliest link between fish and tetrapods yet found (tetrapods have four true limbs with arm / leg bones and hands / feet and can therefore mostly support their own weight. Fish have fins which are arranged differently and other than a few rare species, cannot support their weight. So Tiktaalik is essentially a 'missing link' between water and land animals). The book also takes the time to explain genetics and the relationship between us humans, as tetrapods, and Tiktaalik and other animals.

The Incredible Human Journey, by Alice Roberts, is about how we became human, and colonised the planet. Roberts followed the story literally, by travelling to Africa and visiting various archaeological sites, then up and out into Southern Asia. This was also filmed for a BBC series, which I did not see, not being a TV watcher. Palaeoanthropology is one of my abiding interests, so this book is fascinating to me - I had no idea that the earliest evidence of use of ochre was 164,000 years old. That is incredibly early to our eyes, considering that modern humans appeared roughly 200,000 years ago. I think that the subject has been so Euro-centric for so long, concentrating on the cave paintings and digs in France, that we've sort of assumed that it was in Europe that modern thinking first arose. But, of course, Humanity arose in Africa and those first people were anatomically identical to us, they could think like us, so why should they wait until they reached France before suddenly 'waking up'? It's a subtle kind of racism brought about by a long history of Euro-centric learning and thinking.

It must be hard to write a popular science book. Not all scientists are natural authors or communicators, and to be able to pitch the information you're imparting to just the right target audience is a very subtle skill even for a professional writer. Shubin and Roberts both have different styles and ways of communicating.

Out of the two books, I'm finding Roberts easier to read. This is probably because I'm not quite the target audience for a popular science book anyway - I'm slightly more knowledgable than the average reader and don't have a lot of patience so I find some books simplistic and grating to read. Shubin's insistence on describing the tetrapod limb as 'one bone, two bones, lotsa blobs, digits' is a case in point - the repetition makes me grit my teeth and gives the impression that the book was written for people of below average intelligence or education. Perhaps it was. Roberts seems more willing to use the more academic language with a brief overview at the beginning.

It could just be a difference in American and British publication styles - I've noticed in other genres of books that US editions seem to rely on in-text interpretations (usually in parentheses) after every instance of an unusual term or word, whereas UK editions stick a glossary in the front or back and have done with it. Both styles have their place, I just seem better able to deal with the latter.