30 July 2007

on 30 July 2007 at 05:30

Improbability drive, with mobile phones

One of the most compelling inventions in that wonderful and extremely useful book, The Hitch-hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, is the improbability drive.

It powers a spaceship and is too complicated to explain here, but to give you a flavour, I will tell you what happened to my son, his family, my wife and me in between Legoland and Reading.

We were in two cars: I was following my son who, as well as his family, had the directions to the hotel we were aiming for. He had told me the name of the hotel, but being 62, I had forgotten it.

Well over 90 per cent of the journey had been completed, when my son made an unexpected right turn. I attempted to follow, but another car cut in, and I had to abandon the manoeuvre. By the time I had sorted myself out and turned round, he had disappeared.

We followed in what we thought were his footsteps – or tyre tracks, if you want to be pedantic about it. After quite a long time, we more or less gave up. We were lost. We didn’t know the name of the hotel or where it was, and anyway, they had the reservation details, without which we could not check in.

So far, so unlikely. In these days of mobile phones, a simple solution was available. My wife had a mobile phone, and so did I. So did my son.

My wife attempted to ring him, only to be told that she could not use her phone because we hadn’t paid the bill – a small matter of £9, which in any case is paid automatically by credit card. Only something had gone wrong, and the company had chosen this precise moment to block the phone.

I did not attempt to ring my son on my phone, because when I was in Ireland someone had rung me and used up all its outstanding top-up credit – coincidentally, also about £9. An iniquitous system, in my view, and because I had had no time since returning to rectify the situation, it made my phone as useless as a lump of coal.

So why did my son not ring us? This is where it gets really improbable. When he turned right, the hotel was on our left, and he did a full circle to enter its car park. He thought we had seen this, or had at least noticed the hotel which, to be fair, was big.

He dropped his wife and two children outside reception and went round the back to park the car. In the course of unloading, he dropped his car keys down the side of the seat and spent some time looking for them.

He assumed we had made contact with his wife. She in turn assumed we had made contact with him. So no phone call – until they eventually met up and found that no- one knew where we were, least of all us.

We had been driving round the galaxy for a while when we eventually received his call, and found we could see the hotel from where we were.

Fortunately, like Planet Earth in the essential Guide, we are mostly harmless.

If California were in Norfolk...

The American pronunciation of Norwich as Nor-witch is usually ascribed to the rather literal approach to life characteristic of our transatlantic cousins.

Visitors to Connecticut will know that the New England Norwich is pronounced Nor- witch, just as their river Thames is pronounced Thayms.

But a writer to the National Post, a newspaper that was picked up by an alert EDP reader in Vancouver, suggests that the man to blame is lexicographer Noah Webster.

As well as being morocco-bound, his dictionary and other work emphasised the value of phonetics in teaching children to read – an approach not unknown to our own dear Government, not to mention thousands of teachers.

The Canadian letter-writer suggests that it was this method, applied pedantically, that caused Americans to change their pronunciation of places like Norwich and Warwick and rivers like the Thames.

While it is nice to have someone to blame, I am not so sure. It may just be a question of imagination – pronounced Ingoldisthorpe. After all, if California were in Norfolk, it would be pronounced Scratby.

Sheep a bit muddled and slow on the break

Now that there’s scarcely a break between football seasons, it was no surprise to see a team of sheep practising on a pitch outside our Irish hotel during a recent holiday.

However I was a bit doubtful about some of the tactics, especially the positional play. At first they appeared to be going for a diamond formation, then for a moment it was 4-2-4, with a black sheep in the hole.

But this disintegrated quite quickly, and some alarming gaps developed in midfield. There was a lot of bunching and what might easily have been interpreted as ball- following, if there had been a ball.

All in all they seemed strong in defence, but with the best will in the world you couldn’t describe them as quick on the break. It was also a little disturbing how their heads went down.

Still, the pitch was looking surprisingly good.

Poles apart

Lenton’s First Law: where two people, one male and one female, arrange to meet in a few minutes’ time, this arrangement will not work, however simple it is.

This applies to groups as well as individuals, and is closely connected to Lenton’s Second Law: every woman has the innate ability to disappear completely in a supermarket, however small the supermarket.

An example: my wife and a friend were going to do a little food shopping while the friend’s husband and I walked down the road – a matter of 50 yards – to see a small photographic exhibition involving railway stations and snow. Whoever finished first would walk to meet the other two.

We finished looking at the exhibition and walked back to the supermarket. No sign of the other two. Aware of the Second Law, we examined the supermarket thoroughly, but to no avail. (I should mention that it was not in Hingham.)

In this situation, as in so many others – despite what politicians say – doing nothing is not only an option: it is essential. The women would eventually materialise, and they did. They had gone somewhere else instead.

Lenton’s Third Law: there is always a really good reason for this.

16 July 2007

on 18 July 2007 at 17:45

Essential difference between fact and opinion

One of the basic principles in writing or presenting news is that you should make it easy for the reader to distinguish between fact and opinion.

It’s particularly important when contentious issues are being reported. So I was disappointed to read the other day in a news story in the online Telegraph about a climate change survey that “the UK is in denial about the consequences of global warming”.

The phrase “in denial” implies a refusal to believe something that is self-evident. In fact the consequences of any global warming are so many and various that there is plenty of room for discussion and differences of opinion. The causes of climate change, which is probably what the reporter was really talking about, are also unsettled.

Bad enough, but worse is to come. Lower down the story comes the sentence: “The survey found that more than half (of those who responded) thought scientists were divided on climate change when in fact there is a scientific consensus.”

This is the reporter’s view, and not one shared by more than half the people surveyed. It is certainly not undisputed fact.

In truth there is not a scientific consensus: in this country there is pretty much a political consensus and even more a media consensus, and if that doesn’t worry you, it probably should. But plenty of distinguished scientists harbour significant doubts. Some have resigned from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change; others have stayed on it but disagree with its conclusions; still others have had nothing to do with it.

Some scientists, of course, have no doubts at all. For example, the man from the UEA who appeared on Look East a while back and responded to a question about scientists who didn’t agree with him about global warming by replying: “They aren’t really scientists.”

It says much for the way journalism is going that the TV presenters simply let this arrogance pass. In fact they almost encouraged it.

Time was when reporters asked meaningful questions, but that’s consensus for you. No wonder people are suspicious of it.

White lines safer than cameras

The usual definition of an accident is something that happens unintentionally or unexpectedly. So it is not entirely clear why the Norwich coroner is unwilling to use the word in referring to fatalities on the road. People rarely intend to have accidents, and despite their relentless occurrence, they are not usually expected.

The coroner argues that they are not really accidents because someone causes them, but everything that happens has a cause, even if it is not obvious. Perhaps we should not use the word at all. Shall we start referring to home collisions or factory crashes?

Surely just about every accident is avoidable one way or another. The coroner may wish to spare the feelings of victims of road accidents, and it is kind of him to do so, but calling accidents something else is not going to change anything.

Only proper driver education and sensible road safety policies will do that. If only the coroner could make that kind of change.

Coincidentally, a survey of UK road casualty figures has just found that painting in white lines on the road to indicate right or left turns is eight times more effective in cutting crashes than using speed cameras. Just renewing old markings is well over three times as effective. White Line Partnership, anyone?

Where there's equine residue, there's even more brass

You have to get out into the countryside to arrive at a proper perspective on life. I was taking a short walk down Marriott’s Way just outside Reepham not long ago when I paused to peer over a parapet. There below me at the side of the road was the following notice:

Horse muck 40p Equine residue 50p Poo des chevaux £1.00

As my very wise father-in-law used to say, you get what you pay for.

No sign of sense yet

The introduction of No Smoking notices into places where no-one ever smoked anyway – such as churches – has encouraged Norfolk legend and druid Henry (Fred) “Shrimp” Houseago to diversify yet again.

His company Houseago Inc, based at Erpingham, has started producing a wide range of notices that he hopes the Government or some other busybody will make compulsory.

“I can see a trend as soon as the next man,” he said. “People don’t want to make up their minds any more. They want to be told, even when it seems obvious.”

Areas he has already identified for his signs are: No sex – churches and supermarkets No swimming – high streets Do not open umbrellas – phone boxes No sleeping – discos No dancing – libraries No cycling – swimming pools No combine harvesters – woods or forests No flying – railways No picnics – public conveniences.

A research department, headed by Len “Kissme” Hardy of Hindolveston, is believed to be investigating a wide range of other possibilities, such as “No democracy” for the Autonomous Republic of Hingham and “No penguins” for the UEA.

“We are extremely optimistic,” he said late last night.

Our boys done good again

In a cricket match held at Jokingapart, near Ludham, an all-East Anglian team selected by radical cleric the Rev Nick Repps-cum-Bastwick was narrowly beaten by a foreign team.

After winning the toss and choosing to bat, the East Anglians scored 11, with Mr Repps-cum-Bastwick out for what is known in Norfolk as a Wymondham duck. In reply the foreign team took more than two balls to reach 12 for 0.

Asked if the result was a total disaster, Mr Repps-cum-Bastwick said his young team would learn from experiences like this.

He added: “There has been a lot of hard work put in behind the scenes. We will learn from our mistakes.”

Pushed on exactly when they would start learning, he added: “We lost today, but there were a lot of positives. No-one got injured, and most of our bowlers didn’t bowl, so they are very fresh. We will come back from this.”

The interview was abandoned at this point because of bad light.

2 July 2007

on 2 July 2007 at 05:00

You can't stop unhappy accidents

The hearts of everyone, I hope, went out to the family of the young lad killed tragically by a falling beech branch at Felbrigg Hall last week. It was reassuring to hear of the measures that had been taken by the National Trust to ensure that the 500-acre wood was as safe as possible. But it was slightly less reassuring to read that the police and Health and Safety Executive were “combing the area to work out why the bough fell”.

They should listen to the boy’s grandfather, who refused to blame anyone. “It was a freak accident,” he said. “It was a one in a million chance. You cannot stop it.”

It is a sad fact that beech trees sometimes lose their branches without warning. What can we do about it? Send in gangs of tree surgeons to do weekly checks – a kind of National Tree Service?

Keep away from beech trees? Sadly, nine out of ten urban families would not be able to tell a beech tree from a gooseberry bush, so perhaps we should label them, or surround them with palings? Maybe we should avoid woods altogether: most children are told that nasty things lurk there, and of course they do.

Bad things happen to good people. Bad things happen to happy, fun-loving, intelligent 11-year-olds. No amount of safety measures, risk assessments and allocation of blame is going to stop it.

As a grandfather of two lovely, innocent and promising under-fives, I really do wish it were possible to guarantee their safety at all times. But I know it isn’t.

The truth is we could waste an awful lot of time, and stop an awful lot of fun and enjoyment, by pretending it is.

Mystery of tourist bus spotted at Fakenham

Alarming news from Fakenham: a reader tells me that he saw a Norwich open-top tourist bus passing through the town, heading in the direction of King's Lynn.

“I find it hard to describe the looks on the faces of the occupants,” he said, “but mystified comes close.”

It may be, as my informant suggests, that the strange bus misplacement is linked to the “home rule for Norwich” campaign. But I think it far more likely that the bus driver took a wrong turn and became attracted to a wormhole in the Hingham area, which is well known for time and space distortion.

Either solution would explain the mystification, which is quite common anyway around Fakenham. Locals tell of ghostly buses passing through the town containing the shades of passengers past. When the moon is full and the traffic is right, strange voices can be heard pleading not to be let off.

These are not the only strange sounds to be heard in Norfolk nowadays. Walking across Cley marshes between showers last weekend, my companions and I were buzzed by a very large bird that circled noisily for some minutes. Or maybe it was a helicopter. It seemed to be looking for food.

Top local explorer Richard “Volcano” Meek tells me that everything in the sky is getting louder, especially in the twilight of early morning and late evening, when birds of all kinds “twitter and screech away”.

He suggests that this behaviour may be the cause of the freak weather conditions we have been experiencing, not to mention rising sea levels. “I reckon it’s all down to Gloaming Warbling,” he concludes.

Stand back: the shingle's moving

I was a little disturbed to find a notice by the beach in Cley which revealed that the shingle bank is moving inland at about a metre a year.

We kept well clear of it after that: no-one wants to be mown down by a shingle bank, even when it is as unimposing as the one at Cley, which looked as if it would have trouble holding back a strong ripple.

I hope for the sake of the splendid new Norfolk Wildlife Trust visitor centre that I am wrong about this, because it would be a shame to lose it, together with all those lovely oyster catchers, avocets, marsh harriers and spoonbills. I see the penguins have already gone.

Clampdown on speeding tractors

A friend who is keen to spot bizarre roadside objects when visiting Norfolk tells me that he came across a speed camera pointing into a field.

Happily I was able to reassure him that this was quite normal: it was directed at preventing reckless driving by tractors and combine harvesters, which can be a real problem in the west of the county.

That is why there was very little support in Norfolk for last week’s Scrap Speed Cameras Week. No-one likes to be overtaken by a tractor when they’re trying to change a CD or drive across a field, or both.

There was widespread laughter near Themelthorpe at the 28,000 people who signed a national petition to scrap speed cameras, though apparently this was directed not so much at their muddleheadedness as at the response from the Prime Minister, whoever he may be.

Or maybe not. While travelling one of my favourite escape routes from Norwich to Holt recently, I came up against a driver who thought 45mph was a bit on the excessive side for a good straight road, and downright audacious if it bent a bit. Then on the Reepham autobahn, only days later, I was stuck behind someone who felt 35mph was just about possible, closely followed by three others who agreed with her.

I would like to say the four of them were overtaken by a combine harvester, but this would be misleading. They could have been, but they weren’t.

Tenuous grasp of energy issues

Attributing suspect motives to people who disagree with you is a common method of getting your own way. So it is not surprising to see it surfacing in the vicinity of wind turbines, against which there are substantial and genuine arguments.

There are also vociferous and well-meaning promoters, one of whom was reported as saying that he had faced a complete spectrum of opinion – from an architect who sees them as “industrial desecration of a rural landscape on a gigantic scale” to “families with a real grasp of the energy issues” .

Right, so the architect has no grasp of the energy issues? And of course families do. Must be all that eco-propaganda they’re pumping into schools nowadays. Very deep.