Do you want to know how to find Matariki but don’t know where to start? Do you want to stand outside at zero dark thirty in the middle of winter (or just pretend you did)? I have made a short video that tells you how to look at the sky!
Navigate from Orion, through Taurus, to the Pleiades – Matariki. Discover some of the astronomy, both Greek and Māori, and some of the mythology of the world’s most famous star cluster.
London’s biggest ever archaeological project was a new railway line that was delayed by three pandemics.
This weekend is the Queen’s platinum jubilee, celebrating 70 years on the throne. One of the marketing events attached to the jubilee is the opening of the Elizabeth line.
The Elizabeth Line is a new railway line running from commuter towns west of London and Heathrow airport, right under central London, and out to commuter towns in the East.
The project, originally called Crossrail, wasn’t supposed to be attached to this year’s jubilee. The line was supposed to open in 2018, but it has been beset by engineering problems, financial problems, and then, once it was already late, by the coronavirus pandemic.
Crossrail has been a colossal engineering project, with seven-metre diameter tunnels running for 21 kilometres under London. Along with the usual problems you’d expect with a project on this scale, London presents special challenges. Whenever you dig a hole in London, you’re guaranteed to find something interesting.
Sometimes it’s a graveyard full of seventeenth-century plague victims, like this one excavated at the new entrance to the Elizabeth Line’s Liverpool Street station.
The Elizabeth line wasn’t just a huge engineering project; it was London’s biggest ever archaeological projects. The new stations are clean, airy, and modern. This is Farringdon station, a major London hub, with connections to the Underground, north and south via Thameslink, easy access to mainline stations Kings Cross and St. Pancras International, and direction connections to Heathrow, Gatwick, and Stansted airports.
The first pandemic to hold up construction of the Elizabeth line was the Black Death. In the fourteenth century, the site of Farringdon station was just outside the city of London and provided a convenient place to bury victims. From 1348 through three waves of the plague, an unknown number – probably thousands – of people were buried in what’s now Charterhouse Square. Some of these were uncovered during excavations for Farringdon station’s eastern ticket hall.
The entrance to Liverpool Street is in what used to be the grounds of St. Mary Bethlehem hospital, a.k.a. “Bedlam”, the infamous lunatic asylum. The grounds of the hospital were also used as a burial ground for plague victims, this time in the 1665 bubonic plague.
A huge number of plague victims were buried in the New Churchyard at Bethlem, perhaps up to 20,000. Around 3,500 bodies were exhumed from the site of Liverpool Street station.
Excavations were carried out by MOLA, the Museum of London Archaeology. Teeth were tested for the DNA of Yersinia pestis, the bacterium that causes bubonic plague. Various other analyses investigated the diet and health of the people buried here.
After the research was complete, the exhumed remains were reburied at the Willows cemetery, Canvey Island, in Essex.
In Part I of this series, I stuck a cheap Android tablet to my fridge with fridge magnets. In Part II, I talked a little bit about Blazor and what makes a progressive web application. In Part III, I’m going to add an API that will let the fridge talk to the Internet safely.
The Internet Fridge is all about living in the future. The future comes in different sizes. Kitchen computers have been the dream for fifty years, but when I get up in the morning, the future I’m interested in is, “Is it going to rain today?”
This is a big step up from the Honeywell kitchen computer that inspired this project. It didn’t have an internet connection, mainly because the internet only had four nodes in 1969. None of them were fridges.
The Blazor sample app we started with comes with a tiny nonsense weather page. We can improve on that with some real data from https://openweathermap.org/
In Part I of this series, dreaming of the Honeywell H316 Pedestal Kitchen Computer, I stuck a cheap Android tablet to my fridge with fridge magnets, a hot glue gun, and a passing reference to Stewart Brand’s idea of “shearing layers.” That’s the hardware architecture sorted. In Part II, I’m going to put some software on it.
Progressive Fridge Applications
In the olden days, like 1969, if you wanted to program the H316 in your kitchen, you had to learn FORTRAN IV and punch it into a teletype. The Model 33 teletype used ASCII so that several other machines could understand it, and some H316s were plugged into the early Arpanet, but the dream of true interoperability still had a way to go.
Even in the not-quite-as-olden days, if you wanted to write an app for your Android tablet, you had to learn a bunch of Android-specific jibber-jabber. But not now. These days, I can write C# and run it as a progressive web application, on a .NET runtime compiled for WebAssembly, running in a browser, on a tablet, on my fridge. Things have never been better!
Forget flying cars; the Internet fridge is the future and has been for fifty years.
Last year there was a lot of fuss over the 50th anniversary of the Apollo moon landings, but 1969 was also the year of the Honeywell H316 Pedestal Kitchen Computer.
The Apollo Guidance Computer was celebrated, with its source code released on GitHub and a training course on Pluralsight. All this despite selling only eleven copies.
The H316 was much more practical, used for storing recipes rather than landing on the moon, which hardly anyone needs to do. The AGC’s users were military test pilots with years of training; a ’60s domestic goddess could learn to add recipes to the H316 in just two weeks. The kitchen computer cost only $10,000 — $399,999,990,000 cheaper than the Apollo project.
Even with all these advantages, the H316 Pedestal sold eleven fewer copies than the Apollo Guidance Computer.
In 1969, landing on the moon was real. Having a computer full of recipes in the kitchen was a pipe-dream. Today, we no longer have the technology to get to the moon but the dream of the kitchen computer is within reach!
If your dumb fridge is cluttered with drawings from kindergarten that don’t fit your fancy decor, a smart fridge with Google Calendar on it may seem like the answer – until Google changes their API and Samsung doesn’t update the fridge. Like your kid’s finger painting, it won’t be very good but you’ll feel bad throwing it away.
Smart fridges come with all the normal problems of internet-connected devices: buggy, outdated software; susceptibility to hijack by Russian mafiya botnets, the constant need to turn them off and turn them back on again. All this combined with the serious expense of a major household item.
For $6,000 you get a screen on the front of the fridge that saves you from opening the door. For an extra $20 you can get the App Enabled Smart Egg Tray and check how many eggs you’ve got while you’re on the bus.
The Internet fridge remains the North Star of the connected home, but so far it only solves problems that don’t exist. No one’s come up with a good reason to own such a whizzbang gizmo.
How Many Bulldozers Does It Take To Change a Lightbulb?
The reason internet fridges are a bad idea was explained by Stewart Brand in 1994, the same year I found out what the internet was.
Buildings have parts that change at different rates. The site is permanent. The structural parts of buildings last from decades to centuries. The roof and cladding may last a few decades; wiring and plumbing something similar. The layout changes more often, and the “stuff” in the building changes constantly.
In a good building, the layers that change more frequently can be changed without tearing apart the other layers. In other words, you don’t need to bulldoze your house every time you change a lightbulb.
The specific application to buildings can be sheared away from this story, leaving Brand’s core idea of layers that change at different rates – which brings us back to internet fridges.
Fridges are great. The internet is great. Internet fridges are stupid. The reason is that the fridge layer, which should last 20 years, is strongly coupled to the crappy-Android-tablet layer, which will last two years. I bought my fridge in 2006 and it still works perfectly. If it had the PC I bought in 2006 bolted to the front of it, I would cry a little bit every time I got a beer.
What we need is a shearing layer. In software I would define an interface. A fridge’s interface is a big steel door and the clients of that interface are fridge magnets.
The $100 Internet Fridge
Snarky articles note that instead of spending $6,000 on something that will only last two years, you’d be better off nailing an iPad to your fridge. So I did almost that.
I bought a cheap Android tablet, glued some fridge magnets to the back and stuck that on my fridge. Having spent just $100 on it, I can use it without guilt for trivial tasks like timing eggs. No need to add pointless features like push notifications when the pesto hits its use-by date.
I can also write my own software for it, living the dream of the original 1969 kitchen computer, having an electronic brain full of recipes just where I need it.