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  • Post | Brexit

    Every Christmas, Easter and family birthday, as I list out the contents of a parcel on what feels like an excessively conspicuous “non-EU deliveries” sticker, then pay the suddenly exorbitant postage and customs fees to the UK; every time that, right at the end of the ordering process, a British website discovers that I’m based in Europe, or a European online store learns to its horror that I want to ship to the UK - indeed, every time I want to ship nice things, only to discover that they won’t, and now that the formerly anticipatory, family-related traipse to the post office has become a trudge to bureaucracy, I silently curse Brexit.

    These are, in the grand scheme of things, little niggles, already well known to anyone who has ever wanted to ship to countries like the USA or Japan. But they always remind me that the UK - barely but clearly (though for some vague notion of “Brexit means Brexit”) - voted and then acted to make things worse than they had been until just very recently.

    What good did it do?

    For what and for whose benefit? From my perspective here in Germany, I still haven’t discerned anything concrete: nothing that has made Europeans look jealously across at their neighbours, the land of my birth, and want to change course in that direction.

    Assuredly, there are people feeling good about Brexit back home, and like-minded tribalists around Europe who share the dream: a vague but powerful sense of “freedom”, a baseline intuition that the UK is not “beholden” to the admittedly confusing construct of European political entities, that the UK has been released from some dread dream of federalism or a “United States of Europe”, however far in the future, however long past their own lifetime. A UK unbound from European lethargy and tortuous consensus-building, able to spring free and react swiftly, or plan for a greater, divergent future: that sounds pretty good, I suppose.

    Equally, though, the UK still needs to trade with the EU, and that trade has taken a significant and - in my view - unneccessary hit. It’s still a source of frustration to me that the likes of the wretched “European Research Group” managed to characterise the EU as simultaneously a homogeneous mass of “them”, and as an overly complicated, bureaucratic mishmash of cultures. The Brexit discourse, such as it was, cleverly split the double-sided nature of political diversity in Europe, ranging as it does from Costa in Portual and Scholz in Germany, to the likes of Orbán, Meloni, Fico in Slovakia and Wilders in the Netherlands; how that diversity makes consensus so difficult, on the one hand, yet also demonstrates the EU’s startling heterogeneity: quite clearly the opposite of the unified, “one size fits all” / lowest common denominator monolith (aka “enemy”) that all populists need.

    It’s still unclear to me which, if any at all, of Britain’s latest or forthcoming legislations would not have been possible as a member of the EU…

    Do we need Orbán to show that Brexit was unnecessary?

    That Europe can still countenance an increasingly thin-skinned authoritarian in Orbán, who seems to idolise the others of his ilk (the usual suspects along the lines of Putin, Erdogan, Trump and Xi), is not a good sign, but it does at least seem to confirm that Brexit wasn’t required for the UK to be able hold extreme views, to argue for a severe limitation of immigration, for a country to be held hostage to simplistic, nationalistic, illiberal populist authoritarian ideologies.

    Ideologies always tend towards a message of “greatness”, skipping the concept of “goodness”. Greatness requires winning, beating someone else to some goal, and - as mentioned above - having antagonists in the story. Goodness requires a careful balance of ethics, and is often extremely complicated.

    Sovereign projects

    The question of sovereignty in a highly networked, multi-nodal world is a genuine one. People want their votes to count in determining the course of their own country, without the idea of layers over them constraining their actions. The addition of supranational unions and associations, along with the increasing power of non-state actors in the digital realms (OpenAI, Google, et al), makes it understandable that many will want to withdraw from such a complex life, seek solace and clarity in a “tribe”, and perhaps even dream of just having a “strongdoofus” to solve all their problems.

    But did leaving the EU truly provide a remedy to that complexity? I don’t see that it did.

    Perhaps Brexit can be viewed as a grand project, without which politics can enter a period of “drift”; except, a project usually has a goal, and it seems that Brexit was the goal, with nothing else beyond.

    There’s a similar case to be made for the EU right now: does it have an overarching project beyond its own creation, defence and maintenance? It would seem so: being a liberal democratic regional power to match the USA and China (along with all the many thousands of sub-projects that spin off from that).

    Posting

    With Brexit off the political menu in the UK for the foreseeable future, my hope is of the return of a general political will to rejoin the EU customs union, then to start engaging more constructively with other countries on the EU’s periphery; a return to a freedom of movement not just of people, but of the nice things that we have in Europe that I would love to share with my family back home, and for them to share nice British things once more with us…


    Ah, Marmite…

    A Happy New Year

    Despite letting my niggles at the post office take me to excessive amateur politics, and despite the other tragic things going on in the world demonstrating humanity’s capacity for allowing bigotry and hopelessness result in violence and death rather than action to reverse them, I do want to wish everybody a Happy New Year, may your networks and connections grow broader and stronger, and your deliveries on time!


    → 7:00 PM, Jan 1
  • Dropping drafts

    I’m a pretty good sketcher of words and ideas, but a terrible completer of posts: making sure that the ideas make sense and connect properly, trying to get the wording and the feel right, trying to draw conclusions and lessons from whatever experiences or thoughts I am trying to describe; sometimes even deciding which service to post things on (a ridiculous situation, in all honesty) - that’s all hard work, and sometimes I just don’t feel that I have the energy to complete it.

    As a result, my pool of drafts begins to overflow and prevents me from really finishing.

    So, in the spirit of draining the pool and refreshing my perspectives, here’s a dump of my most current drafts, cross-posted on Blogger and on my Micro.blog instance!

    Rethinking which services I should keep, and why, is something for another day.


    A review of Umberto Eco’s The Island of the Day Before

    created 2023-09-06

    This is a most typically Umberto Eco book, of an unknown, uncertain narrator reconstructing the putative, fragmentary notes of a shipwrecked passenger of a sailing ship, weaving them into an improbably rich, thoughtful, infuriating and nebulous narrative.

    Had I not read Six Walks in the Literary Woods, Eco’s talks on his theories of narration, including the constructs of the Model Author and the Model Reader, had I not already re-read The Name of the Rose and Foucalt’s Pendulum, I may well have given up on this book.

    Is Agile agile?

    created 2023-09-28

    I remember years ago reading about an almost unbearably enlightened concept in project management called Agile. I wished, as we trudged along those familiar, well-worn yet somehow always overgrown, brambly and muddy paths through gates and past millstones - sorry, milestones - towards yet another similar product launch in the automotive industry, that we could put those paths behind us and start afresh, be agile.

    The name itself was glorious, tantalising, joyful, even, bringing to mind fleetness of foot and unbounded creativity with the goal of bringing something new and fresh to the world.

    That, I had to admit, didn’t seem to very closely describe the world I worked in. With Agile’s origins in infinitely malleable software, I knew I would never personally experience agile project management. Herding recalcitrant parts into vehicles was always going to be an uneasy fit with agile methods, I was sure.

    I would never experience agile; until I suddenly did, at my new company in a new industry - and I have some thoughts I’d like to share.

    No, agile is not agile

    What I can say, after five cycles of sprints, workshops, reviews, retrospectives and planning is: the method never for a moment felt agile.

    In our short training course we learned how we could achieve a goal even within the constraints of stupidly and very artificially short development cycles. Rapid feedback loops would trump planning and design (which always leads to trial and error anyway).

    But the way I experienced our agile project was remarkably rigid. We brainstormed a load of User Stories against an equally brainstormed set of OKRs (Objectives and Key Results), which formed the “Backlog” (even though they weren’t at that time uncompleted or delayed, which is my usual term for items that are in backlog), then dumped a load of them into the first Sprint.

    That Backlog was in one sense the Prologue to the whole project, and our very own, self-defined Millstone.

    Now, of course we weren’t totally naive about it: we knew which User Stories represented basic functionality and which would naturally come later, once these basics were sorted. But a number of difficulties with our systems meant that we got bogged down even at that early stage and the prospect of closing off User Stories in an acceptable and documented fashion diminished day by day.

    And then, suddenly, it was time for the Sprint Review, for the Retrospective from that Sprint and planning for Sprint 2, with the Backlog looming like some Godzilla of Not Done, no paradigm of agility.

    We were able to add User Stories as other issues cropped up, and we did in the end discover that some User Stories were irrelevant or completely incapable of being completed with the systems we were working with: these were ultimately tagged with “Won’t Do” rather than Done.

    But that initial setting of User Stories set our path in just as rigid a manner as the traditional “Waterfall” method, and I even began to think that the Waterfall has some benefits like repetition of tasks and documentation for each milestone, ensuring that they mature with the project, rather than being looked at once, documented and dumped.

    What did I learn?

    This is a key question for any initiative and is built in to the Agile method in the guise of the Retrospective.

    …. another beginning

    At work I - with the team, of course, it couldn’t be any other way - recently completed my third ever sprint review, took part in its corresponding retrospective (the cool kids say just “retro”), and planned for the fourth sprint, by reviewing and prioritising the backlog.

    To put that into context, I am now - finally! (I can no longer write “Finally” without thinking of Vaughan William’s A Sea Symphony) - involved in my very first “agile” project, and I’m at least getting used to the jargon. But, is it as good and as efficient and energising as I imagined it to be, back when I was on the outside, jealously looking in?

    From the confines of automotive industry projects and the traditional task-and-milestone mills that were our project styles, I would hear and read of some distant enlightened lands of agile project management: from where I stood, agile appeared desirable, enjoyable, more efficient, “better”: today I wonder if this is really the case.

    As with any , including training that included the agile manifesto, descriptions of sprints, retrospectives, workshops and all of those good things - or at least a variant (the purists would no doubt say ‘deviant’) of it - at work, and I have some issues with it.

    I’m also somewhat distracted by the vocabulary, especially the notion of the word “backlog."

    Before starting the project, the word backlog felt wrong to me: it implies work that behind its planned completion date and is building up through some form of bottleneck, whether this be . Before kick-off, backlog is prolog(ue)

    This Guardian opinion piece on the British NHS, or, more generally, this search: (NHS backlog site:theguardian.com) for articles containing the words “backlog” and “NHS” in the Guardian, or this article referring to the backlog of asylum applications in the UK really give a sense of what I mean

    Now that we’re a sprint in, and we see what we had collected as “to-do’s” and did and didn’t complete in that first sprint, we see the collection of unedited “User Stories” that really does act as a mass to be reduced. A backlog, perhaps, but also a mountain of ice cream needing to be eaten spoonful by planned spoonful

    User Stories are not tasks

    Project Management is a technology, a process, a human-made artefact, which also enforces a lot of documentation (that most people in the world won’t read)

    Engineering engineering

    created 2023-10-14

    really for my Literally Engineering engineering blog

    I tumbled literally not engineering into the New Year 2023.

    Now working again, a confirmed escapee from the automotive industry, I find myself contentedly and, by my own reckoning, at least, gainfully installed in the engineering community of a medium sized company making sensors for industrial applications.

    I also find myself wondering whether I might still actually be literally not engineering.
    Information wrangler

    My new working environment, beyond the desk, the chair and the coffee machine, is digital. I no longer handle parts or discuss testing in the lab. Instead, I deal almost exclusively with data and information: electronic representations of real, or potentially real, things (sensors that other companies buy), and with “non-things” like methods, guidelines, specifications and communications.

    Through this last point, clearly I do deal a great deal with the very real, the occasionally thoroughly perplexing and frequently enriching interactions with my colleagues and other humans in all their complexity.

    In this combination, my role combines both forms of knowhdge characterised by Aristotle that I’ve been focussing on, techne and phronesis, which refer to making (in the original sense of the crafts) and practical politics respectively.

    Aside from the physical handling of parts both new and old in my previous job, is this any different?

    In one respect, no, it’s not very different: the technical drawings that I used to produce, or, better, have produced for me) are informational representations and intentions of something that should ultimately end up being made, manufactured, turned real. But my current position puts me at at least one remove further from our final product. I help to ensure that our data and (data + meaning + truth or accuracy = ) information ends up in the right form and location, with sufficient accessibility and searchability that it is useful to those colleagues of mine who do work on products that will ultimately be manufactured, sold and put to constructive use in industry and society.

    Gotta role with it

    My position currently consists of three main roles: representing mechanical engineering in our company’s new PLM initiative, updating and managing our design guidelines, and, closely linked to those, managing our CAD systems, methods, and - surpise! - data (servers, databases, etc).

    This new working world of mine has an expanded ontology compared to the previous one, in that I now also have dealings with two additional domains, electronics and software. These, too, work mainly informationally (electronics schematics creating the general logic, plus the software and firmware that tame the chips).

    These domains can be seen as models for my own new sense of engineering, if engineering is what it is that I do. They construct “devices” that work according to particular rules and logic, to meet certain goals, within a largely technical domain.

    They make use of tools and consider ways of testing their output against predetermined requirements and - that word again - constraints (price, availability, approvals, maturity, etc).

    In total, this set of roles raises the question for me: what of that is engineering?

    Intriguing devices

    If electronics and software can be considered as “devices”, then so could the objects and elements that I work on: the outputs of my work are not physical but logical devices of varying complexity, that need tweaking, tuning and, occasionally an overhaul or complete replacement.

    To be able to do any of that, I need to understand their mechanisms, weak points, inconsistencies and failures - just like in any engineering context.

    I can consider as actually being secondary to their actuality in the engineering environment as actually being secondary to their actuality in the engineering environment.
    Infra-engineering

    Like infrared or infrastructure, infra-engineering is my imagined term for the work done “below” engineering, to support it. Foundational engineering , we could call it.

    What of what I do is engineering? This is where my uncertainty regarding the definition of engineering itself requires that I attempt to break things down into sensible components to see if, during reassembly, any parts or subassemblies look like engineering as I understand or have experienced it.
    A more philosophical stance

    One attraction of where I now stand in the engineering landscape is that I can view the whole more philosophically than before. I can use the term “ontology” in both the technical, “PLM” sense of listing out the parts that we have, and in the more philosophical sense of “what are we dealing with here, exactly?” This would include discussion of our beliefs in PLM entries representing physical products, those entries including thumbnail images of CAD models of those components ; or, indeed, considering CAD assemblies as mere containers for the components, plus positional relationships.

    It can all get me back to the very beginnings of this blog, considering the writings of Gilbert Simondon , and his considerations of concrete and abstract parts.

    Outputs

    Perhaps the clearest way of investigating the essence of my work is to ask what I will be “producing.” For a “true” engineer, the product would be clear: designs and specifications according to which items could be made and sold to a market.

    Rather than items that can be sold onto a market, I am helping to design the environments in which our engineers work. My customers are my own colleagues, the engineers - and they can be demanding! In addition to designing that environment, I’ll also be documenting it and specifying how these colleagues will work: I have to define both the path and the handrails / safety railings for it.

    That sounds very bureaucratic, I’ll admit. But here, too, is a question: are bureaucracies engineered?

    Outputs
    • A realistic, understandable and internally marketable (acceptable) system and structure for storing and linking engineering data with other and with non- engineeing data.
    • Workflows
    • Administrative constraints and guardrails
    • Specifications
    • An organised knowledge base
    • Installed, tested and approved software
    • Tested and approved methods for working with that software
    so, whilst I no longer deal with labs, I certainly deal with testing: I write (or at least imagine) test scripts, and I record the results in text, screen shots and screen captures.

    A digital Dewey

    The obverse of outputs is of course the inputs that I need to consider. Now, since I’m not personally generating much of the data, but figuring out how best to organise and present it, like a digital Dewey for libraries, my inputs are the platform that we must tune to our needs, representative data for testing, and in Agile project management speak, User Stories and challenges, known issues and ways of working, that need to be selectively reimplemented or optimised, or bypassed, with the new systems.

    There’s a train of thought that the administrations, procedures, methods and laws of modern society are themselves forms of technology. And technologies are engineered.

    Here, I am still defining and specifying how our CAD engineers will work, including fruitfully constraining choices in terms of things like material selection, design for injection moulding and the like. These outputs will be the design guidelines and standards to which our engineers should or must adhere.

    On the PLM front, I’m helping to define the form of engineering data and collaboration on that data within the confines of a pre-existing PLM structure.

    Tools and methods

    • Graphing and flow charts, procedures and guidelines
    • Ways of thinking and interpretation

    Thinking as an engineer who does rather like to minimise bureaucratic effort. Lifecycle and maturity states. Drawings and metadata. Relations, links and causality.
    Knowing what we need to prove, our affordances

    Handling our CAD data, our releases, reports - and the network of components, assemblies that ultimately lead to products being sold on the market.

    Action and agency

    In this role I do quite a lot. Testing to understand the limits and constraints of our systems.
    How else would I describe it?

    If what I do at work is not engineering, then what is it? Luciano Floridi refers to philosophy as conceptual design… So, could what I am doing at work, as well as here, in this post, be referred to as philosophy?

    Or a chemistry of engineering: picking the atoms of information and turning them into valuable molecules, rigid crystals or flexible polymers of information that undergird the products that we make.

    Perhaps I’m operating as a lawyer of technical information, determing what’s “right” in engineeringly “legal” ways.

    The classic analogy for this sort of work is to the architect: someone who, combining innate, but trained, aesthetics with technical understanding and realism, creates - in combination with a vast range of experts - a new structure that can be used by many people over time.
    Design engineer

    I am a designer of engineering methods. The basic software elements are already present, the systems made available by companies larger than our own. But we need to select the

    … and I didn’t get further than that (yet)

    Jeptha (a Handel oratorio)

    created 2023-10-31

    Last Saturday, on the 28th October, I sang in my second Bachchor concert in the Peterskirche Heidelberg. Once more in English, though notably less heavy than Vaughan Williams’s A Sea Symphony, this time we were singing Handel’s final oratorio, Jeptha.

    Wikipedia, with its patience of multitudes, has a much more informative summary on Jeptha than I could presume to write, so I won’t go into the details here.

    We had an excellent young lineup of soloists, including an emerging talent in the English tenor Gwilym Bowen , who sang the title role.

    I did end up wondering about the political implications of the message contained in the story of Israel’s victory.

    Employment (and) agency

    created 2023-12-04

    This time last year, in December 2022, I was coming to the end of my employment at Cooper Standard. The company was doing what alert companies do, reconfiguring the business to focus on growth areas, and my expertise in threaded fasteners and coatings was no longer considered to be of sufficient value to retain in an increasingly plastics world. Some discussions on timing and payout later, I was to leave at the end of the year.

    It’s interesting to look back on that time of wrapping up: calling key contacts to let them know that I’d be moving on, reminiscing on fun and challenging times, wondering what gardening leave would be like; and, of course, digging out the CV to give it a good old refresh, and starting to wonder what I wanted to do next.

    Even with the buffer of gardening leave, hope and expectation were tinged by uncertainty. What sort of industry would I end up working in, and would I be able to hold to certain standards (no military, no fossil fuels, for example) indefinitely? How big a commute would I accept, having been able to cycle to work for all those years? Uprooting the family wasn’t really a consideration, but the idea did lodge itself at the back of my mind, along with that other associated mental paraphernalia of leaving a position without having a new one already lined up - including starting the unemployment process in time, in - gasp! - Germany*.

    That combination of hope mixed with unease at the directionlessness I was faced with (my pending gardening leave may have felt enticing, but it still led nowhere), held a certain diffuse meaning that it’s worth reflecting on now.

    The value of work is grounded by predictability and security. If these are lacking, as they are in so many areas like the arts, or catering, or fixed-term contracts, and for those brave enough to set out as consultants, then you’re permanently on shifting ground, seeking balance, always having to stay alert for new opportunities and less able to switch off, to reflect and - in the extreme case - to appreciate the good things in life.

    Fundamentally, it’s about having agency, being able to decide your own path, in your own time, on your own terms, resulting in Action - taking Hannah Arendt’s interpretation of the word - in which a person has the opportunity to show who (rather than “what”) they are.** Merely enacting (carrying out) jobs doesn’t suffice for action in this sense, which is why so many jobs can be unsatisfying, even when they are settled on a baseline of security.

    Now, writing this in the luxury of a secure position, in which both I and the role(s) I have at Pepperl+Fuchs are developing, and with the buffer of time behind me, I can admit that the timing of my leaving Cooper Standard was right for both parties - sometimes inertia sets in and we don’t quite reach the threshold for action, requiring an external impetus to get us going again.

    How should I summarise this post, then? What’s its moral? Just to make us aware again of who we are in the working world, to be appreciative of security, to be wary of dulling ourselves, and aware of all the other factors that play a role in our decisions, especially, of course, the people and society we live in.

    * The Arbeitsamt turned out to be an excellent institution, proactive and leaving me to my own thing in the right degrees, and remarkably uncomplicated, once I got the hang of their website!

    ** This perspective taken from one of my favourite philosophical books, Back to the Rough Ground, by Joseph Dunne, chiefly about forms of technical and practical/political knowledge.

    → 7:53 PM, Dec 26
  • A Christmas Oratorio to make a Graun man cry

    Well, the pun will: this enjoyable concert with the Bachchor Heidelberg last night, singing the Weihnachtsoratorio (Christmas Oratorio), or - to give it its full name - the Oratorium in Festum Nativitatis Christi from C.H. Graun, was simply a delight.

    It's a charming piece dotted with not too challenging yet still interesting chorales and fugues for the choir, amongst the usual mix of arias and recitatives from the soloists telling and reflecting on the nativity story.

    Our conductor for this concert was Jörg Halubek, whose website and photos make him look grander and more arrogant than he actually is.

    All in all, a light, happy concert bringing good cheer, if at least temporarily, for those who had to drive out of a packed centre of Heidelberg.

    → 5:48 PM, Dec 10
  • So nearly no longer Inbetween

    Back in February I posted about the challenges of being between jobs. Now, following a sequence of online first and in-person second interviews and a remarkably tough choice between two very different offers from very different companies, I’m just a few days (including a bank-holiday weekend) from starting my new job at Pepperl+Fuchs. It’s an exciting prospect, producing an intriguing mix of thoughts, feelings and excitement that I would like to just briefly reflect on here.

    On a purely practical level, the nerdy part of me is most interested in the commute. I’m genuine in wanting to continue to avoid using the car to get to work, having commuted by bike for much of my career. Cycling directly to work is alas no longer a regular option. I tried the ride the other day, and it took me an hour and a half to get there. The route along the river is actually quite pleasant, but while I’m sure I’ll be able to improve the timing, it’s still long. My main mode for the initial phase (and, I presume, long term) is combined bike and train. Indeed, I recently splashed out on a Brompton folding bike, which I’ll use to cycle to the local regional train station, take the train to the other side of Mannheim (to Mannheim Hauptbahnhof… and beyond!) and then cycle the rest of the way to work from Mannheim-Waldhof station. I’ll have to see how I get on with public transport again, especially for the homeward journey, where I’ll typically want to get back as quickly and as predictably as possible. I also got it into my head that getting an electric moped along the lines of the Silence S01, also available in Germany as the SEAT MÓ (yes, from the car company), would be an option. It looks like a particularly efficient and effective mode of personal transport - and perhaps even not just a little bit fun… though I will have to upgrade my driver’s licence for it.

    With the commute behind me, it’ll be time for the main event, arriving at and starting work. The first day will be intense but largely administrative - meeting colleagues (so many names to remember again!) but also getting set up into the company HR and IT systems, getting my laptop and phone (to work: nerdy-me also interested in, but also prepared for the disappointment of the equipment I’ll be given), installing stuff, setting my first login passwords, finding my desk and the coffee machines… all that good stuff.

    What’s really tinglingly exciting in my head now is imagining how the the job will develop, in particular the question as to whether l’ll I be able to mould my projects in the way that I imagine them now. Every so often I’ll catch myself more than just imagining, more borderline fantasising about impressing the team with my excellent ideas, my pertinent and assumption-busting questions, nobly warning them of “gotchas” to avoid that I’ve experienced or considered in the past, agreeing on energetic but realistic plans, and gaining recognition from them and from upper management as being a seed element for an agile, motivated and productive new engineering culture.

    As I say, it’s a fantasy, and it will be tempered by good old every day problems and challenges, from IT glitches and limitations, all the way to the inevitable odd, suspicious, cautious, sceptical and otherwise challenging characters from around the organisation - politics! - which, if treated with respect and their views taken into account, can all lead to much better solutions - for this company - than anything that I could have come up with alone.

    This is what gives me hope: the knowledge that I do tend to be able to work well with all sorts of people, that I can call upon sufficient experience and awareness to feel but not be overwhelmed by, say, exasperation at a stickler for rules and regulations, or a negative mindset. I’m also looking forward to getting to understand the company, the market - there is life outside automotive! - the technologies and their niggles and problems that I’m sure I’ll end up getting involved in, no matter my original role.

    It’s exciting to look ahead, but also to look ahead to again reflecting back on my career so far and this peculiar phase of gardening leave and - for one month only, at least - official unemployment that will very soon be behind me. Where did the time go? What did I do with it? All those questions can be happily set to one side for now, for reflection at a later date, on a well-earned weekend or vacation…

    → 4:57 PM, Apr 28
  • Inbetween

    The last day at work before the holidays back in December 2022 was also my last day of work at the company that employed me. Officially, I'm on gardening leave, so still on the payroll (though magically off headcount), until the end of March. The justification for letting me go was the increasingly common one of needing to reduce overheads to try and return the business to at least a vaguely profitable level in Europe. Similarly to Ford's announcement in Europe, expertise (residing in just a few, but perhaps expensive, engineers) is being retrenched into other regions. I won't write more on company politics and strategies, as I'm not at liberty to do so, but I can talk about how it affects me.

    Nebulous ahead

    Quite clearly, I can't see clearly yet where my future lies. If I'm to stay in the region, which is what we as a family all want, then it's unlikely that I'll stay in the automotive industry: this feels like a blessing, and matches my own burgeoning feelings about the industry of late: whilst still recognising their immense utility, I'm less enamoured of cars than I was, and am content to leave them to their own fate whilst I - ideally - work in another industry, in a direction more in tune with how I feel society could develop.

    If that sounds nebulous, then it's less so than my own prospects and feelings about what lies ahead for me.

    In this fog, there's a strange, rapid flickering of light between states of tremendous hope, interest and intrigue in where I'll end up, and concern. Will I involuntarily end up back in the automotive industry? Will I have to accept a punishing commute for a job that only half enthuses me? Will I even end up with a job at all, and will I be able to support my family?
     
    That worst case scenario is far-fetched - but it is also not unimaginable, given the economy at present, and what's available in the Rhein-Neckar region around Heidelberg and Mannheim. The mere hint of "imaginability" is enough for this brain of mine, I'll admit. The only way out of those doldrums is to get active in terms of searching, and applying, for jobs. As it turns out, it's almost a full-time job in itself!

    Setting boundaries, knowing my limits

    The job of applying for jobs starts with needing to know where, what - and, importantly, not - to apply for. When I was interviewing for jobs after university, I ended up having to make an important decision during an assessment at what was then Lucas Aerospace (now part of TRW), for a position working on servo activation systems for aircraft. One of the pair of interviewers asked me if I was prepared to work on military projects. Amazingly, embarrassingly, it wasn't a topic that I had considered beforehand, and, puffing out cheeks, I admitted as much to them. After a quick - and remarkably calm, as I recall - thought-and-gut-check, I spoke out confidently against working on military projects. The interviewer who asked the question admitted that he had himself found it at times uncomfortable to be working on the motors that drive the helmet-linked front turret of a helicopter gunship: that's something that I would like to continue to avoid for the rest of my career.
     
    (they offered me the job, but then had to retract, as Lucas was then bought out by TRW)

    I have only now realised in this episode that I have two more boundaries: surgical instruments (because I really can't cope with the idea of cutting bodies, even if those operations are rather more life-saving than the military instruments I want to avoid), and junk, trinkets, anything that just "is" without having a purpose beyond being purchased and perhaps being beautiful or funny for someone.

    The limits are also pretty clear: I'm not an electronics engineer, nor do I program software. I have no experience in biotech (a particular speciality of Heidelberg). So if any company from such fields were to take me on, it would be through acknowledging and appreciating my general engineering skills, rather than anything directly product-related.

    Project management? I've done it, can do it, but I don't love it as a career. For me, a project management role could be an entry into an interesting field where I have no product experience, which I could gain in parallel to managing projects, without causing too much havoc - after which the company would recognise my abilities and give me a more technical role. Hopefully potential employers will read this after they've hired me (I love the job, boss, really!)

    Know yourself to present yourself

    Customising the cover letter turned out to be much more of an effort than I was expecting - and almost more for my own benefit than for the recruiter. Of course they will want to be reassured of my enthusiasm and potential appropriateness for a role, but a large part of the application process involves convincing myself that this could be a good fit for me. If I can't write a good cover letter, then it's probably for a good reason.

    Consider the program manager role I mentioned above: writing the cover letter really is an exercise in arguing against the doubt that I could enjoy it. I would say (have written!) that I'm fascinated by the product and want to promote its introduction to customers in this way, and that working with teams of specialists is also a speciality of a generalist like me. For that sort of application, I tune the CV / resumé to put the emphasis more on my project roles than my product development experience.

    If the job is in or adjacent to the industry you're already in, then the cover letter takes on another guise - that of proving your experience, explaining what you would bring to the new company, whilst (at least, for me a priority) assuring them that any trade secrets from the old employer that I don't divulge confirms my commitment to trust at the new.

    I don't expect that to be an issue for me this time around. Treat the cover letter as a safeguard.

    The interview

    Writing these words now, I have an interview looming tomorrow. Once again, I feel my emotions flickering between hope and excitement, and fatalism: this time it's specific to this particular test, a simple pass / fail event. At least right now the doom scenario is not that I freeze or say stupid things during the interview; more that there'll be a more suitable candidate, one who has worked on that product for their whole lives and just want a change of scenery, if not geography. A positive sign for me is that I'm putting a lot of effort into the preparations for it: researching the company, trying to understand the product from what's available online, and considering the engineering perspectives and challenges that swarm around each and every product. It's a new product area for me, and the general aspects like proximity to home are very appealing, so I actively want the job - which generates the fears that I might not.

    Whether my personality and experience will be enough, I have no idea. I'm also a little nervous about the fact that it'll be a video interview, rather than in-person: OK, I'm nervous about it being an interview at all, but that's par for the course.

    The next interview... and the next

    Having just written the above paragraph, I got a call inviting me to another interview at a totally different company next week. Will I feel any less nervous getting into an interview routine? If playing in concerts is anything to go by, I won't - not really.

    But what does change is the feeling that tomorrow's interview is already my last-chance saloon. With that in mind, I can feel like there's less pressure on me - I can be less "desperate" about it and "play" it as I should a concert: concentrated, alert, but as relaxed as possible. Playing the trombone, I have to keep in mind the embouchure and sound: with the interview, it's the same - don't forget to smile, and enjoy it as much as I can. That way, the audience can relax and, hopefully, enjoy it, too...

    It's always interesting

    The whole situation has everything: worries and hopes, planning and intense activity, followed by the wait for results. It's interesting, if nothing else. And that's my default position for any job I end up doing: it'll be interesting, I will learn things and, if I get on well with the team and management, I'll thrive there.

    If I don't get on, then... well, the cycle will begin again, but on my own terms, and in the full and recent knowledge of the effort that it takes.

    If you, the reader, are in a similar situation, let us know your thoughts in the comments below, or on Mastodon, where I'm @DiversionsManifold@toot.io - and good luck!

    → 4:24 PM, Feb 14
  • Waves of heat

    Heat

    There's been a heatwave and very little rain these last couple of weeks. The press that I read has been very focussed on the pernicious and systematic nature of these heatwaves, clearly linked to climate change driven by human emissions, mostly of carbon.

    The Economist had two articles about it: Today's heatwaves are a warning of worse to come, and The increase in simultaneous heatwaves which clearly set out the current set of problems and challenges ahead.

    The Guardian, naturally, also contains warnings about the situation, including a typical piece from the inimitable George Monbiot: This heatwave has eviscerated the idea that small changes can tackle extreme weather; and an Opinion piece on the public perception of what needs to be done, and the almost impossibly political predicament we're in: The Guardian view on public attitudes to the climate crisis: burning for change

    It's all just politics?

    Deciding to do things for the environment, and how fast, is a political matter, possibly the biggest of our time. How to ensure that humanity continues to develop whilst permitting nature to recover, without massive and sudden sacrifices or a return to excessive hardship is hard. Connecting this thought to the boneheaded, insular, selfish and populist-nationalistic messages streaming and steaming from the minds, mouths and military of such leading lights as Putin, Erdogan and their authoritarian ilk, and from the ever more similar sounding, coal-fired Republican Party in the US (or the coal-powered Democrat Manchin), leaves me feeling rather down on our direction as humanity, as does the self-destructive infighting with right-leaning nationalists in Italy leading to this comment from (where else?) the Economist about:

    ...their ambition, narrow self-interest and failure to understand, or perhaps care, that events in their troubled country have unfortunate implications far beyond its borders

    Fortunately, there are teams and institutions working on solutions - some piffling and perhaps wrong-headed (Heliogen?), many promising (the whole stream of Long-Duration Energy Storage, LDES, investigations, well summarised, again, by the Economist in their article Decarbonisation of electric grids reliant on renewables requires long-duration energy storage

    There are institutions and companies, ranging from traditional behemoths like BASF (itself a huge customer of Russian gas) to clever startups who will likely not make it, even if their ideas will, eventually. This gives me hope.

    What can I do about it?

    As a long-term employee / inmate in the automotive industry, I've made my contribution to mobility and its environmental downsides. With the part of the company that I work for settling in as a low-cost commodity with a long but time-limited future, I have the ever-stronger feeling that it's time to move on to more climate positive initiatives.

    Whether this involves joining the hydrogen economy in some capacity (attractive, but ambiguously beneficial), or batteries, or insulation, or positive recycling, I don't know. It's all contingent on me finding something that involves as little commuting as possible - so, either close to where I live now, or somewhere where the family would gladly want to move, having never moved out of the city we live in now. Maybe my experience and energies would be better spent in adjacent, perhaps "agnostic", but enabling industries, such as coatings or fittings, where better and cheaper products enable better and cheaper climate solutions...

    I won't and can't post my thoughts and investigations into alternative employment here - no radical openness here, I'm afraid / to your relief - but this is a subtle little starting point for what might come later.

    Might... But after my holiday break from it all! (driving, but not flying anywhere) 

    → 9:48 PM, Aug 12
  • My own personal brain drain

    Now that I’ve completed my first full week back at work, I can confirm the suspicion I raised in my New Year’s post marking my return to blogging that the freedom and energy to write and blog that I discovered over the Christmas vacation have been severely reduced:

    Alongside the where … it’s pertinent to ask, when would I write? Maybe blogging is principally something for the holidays, when I’m rested and have time to reflect and to write.
    On the plus side, I am writing about it here!

    The brain drain

    Why is work - the non-physical work that I do- so draining? What am I doing all day that consumes so much energy, despite mostly sitting about, typing and clicking?

    I’m involved in product development and launches, in technical support, in documentation and report writing, with many context and application switches throughout the day. The energy that I burn in these activities can’t be all that much by themselves. It’s the brain itself, I feel, that becomes tired and lethargic - motivation and discipline come in waves, and I do need to drift for a while - to daydream, or make a coffee, or (in the home office scenario) empty the dishwasher.

    Mental tiredness is something that is analysed in depth in Daniel Kahneman’s Thinking Fast and Slow: that the amygdala running our instincts is the low-energy, high-intensity backup to the frontal lobes that take on most of our controlled, “slow” thought. When the mental energy balance is off kilter, decisions can be made faster, because instinct takes over - but they can be made worse, because of confirmation bias, of assumptions and hopes that the decision was good enough to survive.

    I go for walks, or sometimes for a run during the course of a day, which does help to refresh things - but, at the end of the day, when the work is done and the children are in bed, I find it difficult to decide to engage in another bout of active thinking.

    Audio strain

    At the beginning of the first pandemic lockdown and home-office phase, I hadn’t really given too much consideration to my office setup: I had my decent keyboard, mouse and screen at home, but I quickly found that the laptop audio was killing my ears, and contributing to this energy drain.

    I went through a sequence of trials with various headphones and found that, for longer web conferences, relatively loose-fitting, wired earbud type headphones were better than my professional over-ear ones, as I could hear myself less, the rest of the house could “seep in”, and yet I still had decent sound across the audio bandwidth (those tinny laptop speakers are a killer).

    Slow overthinking, slow overdoing

    Admittedly, I’m not the most energetic of workers or writers, or musicians, or fathers, or engineers, or communicators, or researchers, or sportspeople - I’m a mixed-mode “pulser” rather than a constant turbine. I think I’m pretty good at recognising when I need to “dash” or to relax, but stress does build up over time, as does exhaustion: I can have trouble switching off and sleeping, which is cumulative. Before the Christmas break, I recognised my own warning signs of work-life-induced exhaustion: tiredness with an inability to sleep, an unsettled digestive system and occasional lethargy and headaches. That has all receded, thankfully, but the next accumulation has already begun

    Naturally, we’re back at the start of the work-vacation cycle, so things aren’t too bad: but the combination of this product launch, the Covid pandemic and everything else does mean that blogging here and over at engiphy.net has already slowed down.

    At least it means you don’t have to read too much!

    → 1:33 PM, Jan 17
  • The Prevention Paradox of Brexit?

    For a while during the initial phases of the first lockdown, there was some discussion about the prevention paradox, the risk that beneficial actions taken on a population basis will leave many individuals thinking: what’s the big deal, or, why should I pay that price? 


    A good summary of the prevention paradox is contained within this pre-Covid quote from the International Journal of Epidemiology (emphasis mine):

    ‘[the population strategy] offers only a small benefit to each individual, since most of them were going to be all right anyway, at least for many years. This leads to the prevention paradox: “A preventive measure which brings much benefit to the population [yet] offers little to each participating individual” … and thus there is poor motivation for the subject. … In mass prevention each individual has usually only a small expectation of benefit, and this small benefit can easily be outweighed by a small risk’

    The first Covid lockdowns in Europe helped to slow the spread of the virus. However, since relatively few people knew anybody who had contracted the virus, there was an insidious view that led to the “huh - there’s nothing to worry about” perspective that in turn led to people ignoring the rules at the individual and small group level, because those individuals couldn’t truly process the cost-to-them-benefit-to-others analysis. 


    So… that link to Brexit, then?

    It’s tenuous, I’ll admit, but since it did occur to me in this context, I’ll stick with trying to figure out what it was I thought I meant.


    Having the UK in the EU was a form of prevention paradox because, although the weight of the UK and like-minded countries within the EU - those who were suspicious of ever-further integration - put a significant brake on that integration, nevertheless individuals and groups could still feel that having the UK in the EU was a higher cost to them, whilst never eliminating the risk of superstatism. If I try to parse the definition from above:


    “[A preventive measure] … [brings much benefit to the population] yet [offers little to each participating individual]”


    Becomes…


    [Having the UK in the EU] … [enables free trade and bureaucracy-free travel to the whole country] yet [does not give each individual immediately better conditions, more money, succour in patriotism or prevent "the EU" from smashing “us” and “them all” together]


    Something like that!


    The opposite is clearer: now that Brexit has happened, could the EU now be more inclined to drift towards that federal superstate so detested in principle by those who loved their nations? Perhaps the fact of taking the UK out of the EU makes the thing that many were suspicious of more likely. It’s just that German and Dutch, Polish and Italian opponents of the superstate are no longer supported by their British colleagues.


    Told-you-soism

    You can imagine Brexiters now actively hoping that the EU will fling itself gung-ho into becoming a superstate, purely so that they can say “told you so!” Indeed, perhaps there is even now a secret clan within the European Research Group working behind the scenes to promote and to facilitate the institution of a Grand State of Europe…


    The Brexit paradox?

    Although I think I managed to squeeze the logic into the constraints of the definition of the paradox, I can’t strongly argue that the UK being in the EU was a true prevention paradox; it was just a prevention.


    But this is exactly what I hoped that my blog would do for me - getting me to “think in writing”. This post has also been a thought starter for trying to describe what being European means to me.


    → 1:15 PM, Jan 6
  • 2021

    2021 sparklers light sign

    2+0+2+1 = 5

    2+0 = 2*1... it's a symmetrical year!

    2*0*... OK, I don't need to go further than that.

    2/0/... : it's an infinite year!

    [[2^0]^2]^1] = 1

    Two thousand and twenty one years since... wait: Two thousand?

    What, only two thousand? And twenty one, don't forget.

    Exciting.

    Happy New Year! Wishing you diversions manifold!

    → 12:37 PM, Jan 1
  • Brexit and populism

    From View from the EU: Britain ‘taken over by gamblers, liars, clowns and their cheerleaders’, a view from Helene von Bismarck:


    “Populists depend on enemies, real or imagined, to legitimise their actions and deflect from their own shortcomings,” she said. If the EU has been the “enemy abroad” since 2016, it will steadily be replaced by “enemies within”: MPs, civil servants, judges, lawyers, experts, the BBC.

    Oversimplification, lack of nuance are greedily seen as ways of cutting the Gordian knot of complex debate and “getting things done”. There are times and places for such methods, but not permanently in running a country. 


    Also, from John Crace in the same paper (On Boris’s big day, Tories kid themselves this is the deal they always wanted)


    “He had united his party – if only temporarily – over Europe. So it was job done for Boris, as Brexit had mainly only been about divisions within his own party. “

    → 2:53 PM, Dec 31
  • The Brexit trade deal vote and Labour's seemingly intractable position

    Labour had a seemingly impossible decision to make regarding the Brexit trade deal vote in the House of Commons on Wednesday 30th December.

    Labour leader Keir Starmer is quoted as saying:

    “The choice before the house today is perfectly simple. Do we implement the treaty that has been agreed with the EU, or do we not? If we choose not to, the outcome is clear: we leave the transition period without a deal. Without a deal on security, on trade, on fisheries. Without protection for our manufacturing sector, for farming, for countless businesses. And without a foothold to build a future relationship with the EU.”

    To me, the words "perfectly simple" are rather disingenuous. Starmer tried to portray the judgement as a binary choice, whereby all other considerations are neglected. That can be seen as clear leadership; it can also be a sign of a leader uncomfortable with conflict. 

    Fortunately, there was some public debate on the day:

    [Stella] Creasy said in a statement on her website: “Whatever Labour does, the Conservatives will cry foul, suggesting any attempt to scrutinise the deal after it is passed reveals a true intention to fight Brexit. The road ahead will be rocky for all concerned. To abstain is not to refuse to be part of that fight but to refuse to do so on the prime minister’s terms.”

    Also, it seemed clear that, whatever Labour did, the bill would pass, as the Conservatives had a significant majority.

    Kevin Brennan:

    “While I understand the desire to move on I simply don’t understand why it’s necessary for those who believe this is a bad deal to vote for it, and dip their fingertips in this abject failure of national ambition,”

    On the lack of parliamentary scrutiny, Clive Lewis put it thus:

    “false framing, used to hold this house to ransom”

    I presume Labour went through lots of war-gaming of the scenarios, but it doesn't quite seem that way. Their public website doesn't mention the Bill at all, and seems stuck in the 2019 election past:

    Within three months of coming to power, a Labour government will secure a sensible deal. And within six months, we will put that deal to a public vote alongside the option to remain.

    As with my previously denoted rolling of eyes at the lack of apparent decision analysis leading to the political contortions and distortions surrounding Brexit, I fail to recognise any systematic analysis of the situation. Again, I offer a fifteen-minute Decision FMEA structure as a very sketchy outline, which seems better than what we see in the news:



    As we can see, nearly everything under Labour's control is about the messaging and the internal collaboration and consensus-building prior to the vote - it just doesn't seem as if this was done. The ramifications of voting against, or permitting a free vote (or abstention) seem pretty minimal, given the majority that the Conservatives have at this time.
    → 1:51 PM, Dec 31
  • My state of blogging 2020 into 2021

    I’ve had this Diversions Manifold blog for coming up to a decade now and, as is typical for most blogs, I’ve come to it in spurts, let it lie dormant for long stretches, then returned enlightened, enthused and energised.

    (repeat the cycle)


    We’re sometime between Christmas 2020 and the New Year, and I’ve had time to wind down from work, to feel the gradual return of the energy and freedom of mind to actually start writing (and editing) things that are not work emails or documentation, test reports or goals and targets for 2021. So it’s time to review Diversions Manifold, to jot down what its purpose in life is, and to see where I might take it.


    Alongside the where to, it’s pertinent to ask, when would I write? Maybe blogging is principally something for the holidays, when I'm rested and have time to reflect and to write. But for 2021, I will try and maintain a more frequent cadence of writing here. 


    For that to happen, I need to restate (to myself) why I’m doing this (to myself), and what Diversions Manifold is.

    It’s a web log - a document for the now, and for history

    One intriguing aspect of blogging is that, whilst it is primarily a log of our lives and thoughts in the now, it also provides a near-permanent, public archive of our histories. It means that there are many potential readers, types of readers, and even cohorts of readers, stretching far into the future... which makes writing a blog a fun challenge, if you consider both current and future audiences.


    Don’t worry: I’m not self-aggrandising enough to think that my history is important to humanity in general, just for a few humans in the future, perhaps! My children, maybe even their children, might be interested in looking up one of their ancestors, to see what he got up to, what he thought interesting; what he made of the world he lived in, the life he had - at least when the conditions were right for him to actually write about anything.


    Bear in mind the name of the blog: Diversions Manifold. All sorts of things happen; threads, topics and special areas aren’t followed to the bitter end; I end up being diverted onto other paths; enjoying other perspectives - so many, manifold perspectives and diversions.


    Diversions Manifold will involve general observations, notes on interesting things undertaken (not everything, I can assure you of that), thoughts on politics and the environment, a little on my working life and a little on my family life. These latter two are challenging, as I don’t feel free to write about what I really get up to at work, nor to give any details about my children, into the web. They can do that themselves, when they’re ready, without being “outed” here.

    It’s still meant to be read

    There are readers, dear writer! Their / your needs and wants have to be considered, too, even if most of you are either simply imaginary (or progeny).


    I always intend (wish) my writing to be engaging and sufficiently well edited that readers don’t stumble too often on poor grammar, sentences that could read in multiple ways, and clearly unfinished or broken lines of logic.


    This is a large part of why my posting is so infrequent - I spend significantly more time editing and re-writing than perhaps I should, and tend to leave posts in draft form for much longer than I should. If I post more frequently, maybe the practice will help to streamline that process, without me getting too shoddy over it.


    I’m not much of a find-a-link-post-a-link blogger, though some like John Gruber at Daring Fireball do this very well.


    Posting more frequently will also help me to develop a recognisable voice that readers can relate to. It will be a filtered voice, of course, a persona, but hopefully with a consistency of tone and heart that keeps me me. 


    There will be smatterings of wry humour, nothing bawdy.

    It’s open to dialogue...

    … just not here. I’ve given up on comments: one or two genuine comments aside, I’ve had only spammy experiences with comments in my blogs. Moderating comments from unsolicited spammers feels like a waste of time when there’s barely any wheat to be found in the chaff. So, I’m turning off comments.


    I do understand why blog platforms created and continue to permit comments, and why bloggers take the time to moderate and curate them. I’d just like to take the other path, hinted at by Ur-blogger Dave Winer’s guidance over at Scripting News, combined with the original notion of the internet: to recognise that blogs are meant to create dialogue through linking and back-linking, references within posts, tweets and reddits, etc, rather than by keeping comments hidden within the posts themselves.


    Perhaps it is a little bit like people talking across couples at a dinner table, and it does mean that direct interaction can be lost; but the network-of-discussion idea appeals to me, so I’ll set it up that way from now on. I can be tweeted at @diversionsmfold (preferably with a link to the post, so we know what we’re talking about)


    A liberal mindset

    Living as I do, thankfully, in a well-functioning “liberal” democracy, I don’t need to worry too much about getting shot, killed, thrown into prison, or otherwise silenced by such sensitive souls as Presidents Xi, Erdogan, Putin and their tremulous ilk.


    I’ll remain polite, respectful of cultures and other mindsets, but will struggle not to be too dismissive of authoritarians and populist politicians who bellow platitudes and peddle exceptionalism, who distort and devalue truth.


    I mainly read the Guardian for my news.


    My attempts to synthesise opinions about policies or events will be based on my engineer’s training (the “Brexit FMEA” post being a particular case in point), as well as trying to network in opposing views, unless they’re clearly batty and conspiracy-theory based.

    But… But… It's Blogger, it's Google

    Yes, yes, I know. I have struggled with the idea for the duration, looking for alternatives (Posterous (RIP), Posthaven, Wordpress, Medium, Ghost, Typepad, Fargo (RIP), even Jekyll via GitHub and Python (it got messy)…), but I stuck with Blogger because it works, it’s simple enough, I know how to use it, I quite like their dashboard, and it has my history. So, I’ll stick with it in my quiet way.


    Google has killed off a lot of services, but, amazingly, Blogger has not been one of them. I don’t know why, and the Internet is a little unclear on the matter. The most compelling is that it appears to be useful to Google as an in-house communications tool that is used by YouTube and the like - so they might as well keep it. And with their server management, I’m on the safer side of things, without the complexities of self-hosting, AWS and all of those considerations.


    I’ve made my peace of sorts with Google on the data side of things, too; they make data useful, as well as advertisable; since I’ve not switched on advertising here, I’m not a monetising target as such. No doubt they’ll make a note of who visited, and maybe they'll advertise to you: I just hope it doesn't get too obtrusive or creepy. You can always use your adblockers, anti-tracking methods and the like, and keep the web how it was meant to be: linked, not just liked.


    Diversions Manifold into 2021

    This blog, Diversions Manifold, is about me and my experiences. It’s not a professional take on any particular aspect of life, and it’s very limited in certain specific aspects (work, family, as mentioned). That voice of mine here is, then, a public voice. Not too filtered, but… considered. 


    I review and edit my posts before publishing. I can and do revise them after publishing, though I will try to remember to add the [Update:...] information.


    This Diversions Manifold persona can be found on Twitter as @diversionsmfold (was @sebbrowser), and on Reddit as DiversionsManifold. I also blog about the philosophy of engineering at engiphy.net and its related Twitter handle @engiphy


    And there we are: a loose sketch of what this blog can be as we slide gracefully into a virus-free, environmentally aware, open-minded, 2021. Welcoming of our tribes but respectful of and collaborative with others. Democratic, anti-bureaucratic. Erratic. 


    An addendum: 

    You know Blogger is doing something right when it gets blocked at various times by such luminary governments as…


    Cuba

    Fiji

    India (some ISPs in 2012 blocking an IP address put into Federal List of Extremist Materials in 2011)

    Iran

    Kazakhstan

    Kyrgyzstan

    Pakistan

    People's Republic of China

    Russian Federation (some ISPs in 2012 blocking an IP address put into Federal List of Extremist Materials in 2011)

    Syrian Arab Republic

    Turkey

    Vietnam

    Yemen


    (From the Wikipedia article on Blogger: needs citations...)


    → 6:38 PM, Dec 30
  • The Brexit FMEA


    The Brexit pre-mortem: BFMEA


    Of all the engineering tools that I have encountered, the one that spans the widest spectrum of respect and scorn, hope and despair is the FMEA, the Failure Mode and Effects Analysis.


    Developed by the US military and NASA and gradually adopted by the automotive industry from the 1970s onwards, it is intended to highlight things that could go wrong before they do; it's also a way of collecting and tracking the evidence (models, test reports, etc) that shows that the nuts and bolts have been proven before putting them on a rocket - or, indeed, jettisoning a country out of the European Union.


    At its heart, the FMEA is a "what if?" analysis. Other methods are available, like the Potential Problem Analysis from Kepner-Tregoe. But I'm automotive, and the FMEA is a requirement in our field, so I've sketched up how a BFMEA (Brexit Failure Mode and Effects Analysis) might have been constructed and eventually look like. Why? Because I simply don't get the impression that the British government perceived the need for any such thinking before diving in to the apparently urgent political necessity that was the Brexit referendum result. And also, because sketching one up isn't all that hard - with practice.

    Building the structure


    First of all, you need to define what your product or system is, perhaps by following what was defined in the project scope (ABQP). The FMEA might be for a full system, or it might be for an individual component that fits into that system: For our purposes now, it's Brexit. Brexit has a few functions and requirements that I cobbled together in five minutes (naturally with no little help from hindsight):

    What could possibly go wrong (failures)?


    With an FMEA, you focus on failures first and foremost (it can be a depressing trudge, initially, which is why engineers are always so miserable. Are we? We must be). Put yourself in Law-maker Murphy's shoes, maybe even his socks and underwear, too. The fresh ones.






    Then "all" you need to do is to go through each of your functions, wishes, desires, needs, etc: and define all the ways they can fail (one more example here):


    How could it come to this (causes)?


    If failures are the symptoms, then causes are the bugs that deserve our attention. 

    Again, with every failure having its very own potential cause, or causes, we need to repeat the trudge around the houses. I've kept it relatively simple here:

    Somebody will have to do something about this (actions)!


    The whole point of the FMEA is to discover potential failures and to cut them off at the source: we don't want those bugs getting in that resulted in us hollering into the toilet bowl. So the positive aspect of the FMEA is assigning to-dos to each cause, like "make sure you wash your hands before eating", with the intention of preventing those causes from occurring in the first place (absent a time machine):


    So much to do! Where to start (Effects)?


    There's one letter we haven't touched in the FMEA yet: the E. Effects. Determining what happens as a result of the failures can be useful in figuring out what actions should be prioritised. You might for example preferentially allocate work on avoiding failures that would otherwise result in conflict on the Irish border over events that would lead to slightly less curved cucumbers still landing on British shores.


    But understanding where to prioritise political effects (disgruntlement amongst 48% of voters, for example) is beyond my realm of experience, and represents a clear disconnect between the "plodding reality" of engineering and the human rationality (in all its technical irrationality) that defines politics. Some things might not be "prioritisable" at all. At least until someone works out an official Happiness scale that would be able to balance lots of low-level general contentment (hey, being in the EU isn't actually all that bad most of the time) against intense doses of uproar (they're defining cucumbers again!). Do I digress? I believe I do.

    Presenting the BFMEA


    Typically, FMEAs aren't presented in the network style that I employed to build mine: the traditional method is the worksheet, which typically leads teams to try and build them in Excel or similar. This is what mine would look like in that format.



    It's OK, but a bit sterile. Which is I suppose how it should be. Right? "Real" FMEAs have ratings numbers that help in the prioritisation of tasks, which I have omitted here.

    Build and forget?


    The FMEA is intended to be a so-called "living document". As new events occur and lessons are (ha!) learned; as new and fantastical failure modes with subtle, complex, causes are discovered, the FMEA grows: often becoming unmanageable, or at least rather unwelcoming in the process. Unless someone or some team is really "living" complex FMEAs as a role, they will bulk up, dry out and fossilise.


    In one sense, that's not necessarily a bad thing: if at least in the act of setting it up important considerations were made in that emotionless setting, potentially resulting in actions being taken that avoided some grand faux pas or other, then it will have been useful without too much investment in resources.

    Do they? Can they?


    It would be fascinating to find out what methods the British Government has at its disposal (and which were used thus far): because, to all appearances, they weren't.


    Perhaps they're saving them for the debates surrounding the re-entry into Europe, then.

    BFMEA network and other points


    Here's the network FMEA that I built up over the weekend. To those engineers reading this who are experienced in FMEA methods: I acknowledge the existence of Occurrence and Detection items. I didn't bother with ratings, as FMEAs can really get bogged down with them - but some sort of prioritisation is required, of course. To those outside of my industry: have you encountered similar "constricted thinking" methods? It would be fascinating to hear from you!



    → 8:28 PM, Mar 20
  • ABQP: Brexit as an automotive project


    ABQP: Advanced Brexit Quality Planning


    It is surely doing the British Civil Service an injustice to suggest that there was no planning process for Brexit. However, what we see in the media strongly suggests that whatever planning did take place was swiftly overcome by politics: the votes upon votes in Parliament, the pontificating and hardening of views, the dreams shattered and still dearly held. We hear of Papers stating one potential outcome or another, but the feeling remains of a Brexit ship veering ponderously from port to port, turning away from each in disgust without ever reaching one.


    I'm an automotive engineer, and could imagine Brexit being an automotive project; there would (in my imaginings, anyway) have been a clear baseline for planning, thinking, moulding, approving or even cancelling the project before it's too late.


    Comparing Brexit with a VW Polo facelift? Ridiculous! Well, yes, but I feel there are some lessons in the processes that we use in industry that might have been better learned before embarking on this huge undertaking. (Otherwise I won't have writting this, I suppose).


    Naturally, the advantage that the auto industry has over the Brexit project is that it can produce many models and, with experience, assuming the company survives (which many didn't ), see what sticks. Brexit is a one-shot action that will take decades to mould after the event. But, anyway, here are my thoughts on the Brexit Project from an automotive perspective:

    APQP: Advanced Project Quality Planning


    Every automotive company has its own flavour of APQP, but the basics are defined and even - of course - available on Wikipedia. Some key aspects that I would highlight here would be:

    • Planning and Defining the Program
    • Product Design and Validation
    • Understanding the needs of the customer
    • Analysing (/predicting) and mitigating failure

    It's a plodding, check-box laden process and certainly not in the vogueish agile development process domain - but therein lies its strength as well as tedious weakness: it enforces slow, measured and team-based thinking, rather than snap decision-making.


    Irrespective of whether I think Brexit is a good idea or not, the process appears to have been entrained without even a basic level of planning. Was there any sensible product definition of Brexit before kicking off Article 50 and the two-year negotiation period? (Leave Means Leave is not a helpful definition, at least in my book).

    Advanced Brexit Quality Planning: A light-gloom-hearted ABQP Statement Of Work


    Project Name


    The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland to exit the EU.

    Project Scope


    The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland intends to leave the EU. No other countries will leave the EU. All components of the UK shall leave the EU, including Gibraltar and the Channel Islands. The UK intends not to bow to EU regulations. This normally means not having the same level of access to the European market as available at present. The UK intends to keep the same level of access to the European market. Leaving the EU means developing new alignments with... well, every country in the world, as well as with the EU.

    Project Type


    APQP: Advanced Product Quality Planning with 5 Phases.

    1. Plan and Define Program
    2. Product Design and Development Verification
    3. Process Design and Development Verification
    4. Product and Process Validation and Production Feedback
    5. Launch, Assessment & Corrective Action

    Phase 1: Plan and Define Program


    1.1 Identify the needs of the customer


    1.1.1 Identify the customer


    The customer is all citizens of the UK (including those younger than 25 at the time of voting who, though disproportionately affected, voted at a significantly lower rate their older, perhaps more caring compatriots). Citizens of other EU countries in the UK will... have to lump it. British citizens resident in the EU will... have to lump whatever treatment they are given wherever they are living (they deserve it, the traitors) until such time as they return to the fold.

    1.1.2 The needs of said customer


    Right. Those needs. Yes. It is absolutely clear that all inhabitants of the UK want the best possible deal. In fact, they want more than the best possible deal, they want the best of everything, which is what was promised.


    Also: no more immigrants and no more being told how to run a country by a democratically-challenged council of flouncing Eurocrats.


    And: no European Superstate.

    1.2 Develop timing plan


    Target date: Open-end until Article 50 is invoked, so plenty of time to develop a statement of work, specifications and requirements, a strategy and tactics to achieve an acceptable level of that target.

    Article 50 has been invoked


    Wha...?

    Deadline is now May 2019.


    You're kidding... Umm, on what grounds was Article 50 invoked?

    None that anyone can discern; negotiations will be the easiest ever anyway. There was something about the EU not showing its hand until Article 50 had been invoked: unhelpful gamesmanship, a trap that the British Government, gleefully bellowing "freedom from!" fell into


    1.3 Develop Budget


    The EU will be on their knees in a few months. So no real budget is required, no contingency planning, just a few negotiators and the rest is a win for us!

    1.4 Assemble Team


    See 1.3 above, OK, plus their advisors. No need to listen to the people any more, they've had their vote. And we don't need experts any more, either. We'll ignore the Civil Service, too.

    Phase 2: Product Design and Development Verification


    2.1 Develop Product requirements


    The Brexit product requirement is... Leave! OK, more seriously, there might be some relevant functions of Brexit that we might want to consider:

    • Restore / Increase British national autonomy
    • Restore / Increase national togetherness
    • Significantly reduce immigration
    • Increase internal investment (e.g. NHS)
    • Retain and protect UK integrity (e.g. Northern Ireland)
    • Protect inter-Irish peace
    • Avoid becoming part of the EU Superstate

    Are these measurable? Most are. The intangibles (national togetherness) will need more definition as the programme progresses. Can they be modelled? What sort of Brexit would result in maximising the wins across the maximum number of functions?

    Predicting and mitigating failures (BFMEA)


    The FMEA (Failure Mode and Effects Analysis ) is a key engineering tool, initially developed by NASA with the intention of foreclosing failures before they occur.


    NASA was also a specialist in one-shot efforts.


    ... but that we'll save that for my next post.

    Phase 2 (Continued)


    Oh never mind: Phase 2,3,4 Finished!


    LAUNCH

    → 9:44 PM, Mar 17
  • The unvalidated state

    The unvalidated state

    Well, that all went somewhat awry, didn’t it?

    I must confess that I was prepared neither for the result of the referendum on Thursday 23rd June nor for its impact on my state of mind. I spent most of Friday, 24th June 2016, in a strangely blank pall of frustration, disbelief, even - briefly - anger, plus an element of intrigue at what the future will bring. Such a complex bubbling brew of emotions will take some time to subside as this weekend peters out into another week, the first of a long, long series of weeks, months and years bringing ructions and repercussions in my homeland along with administrative hurdles and considerations of nationality for me personally.

    Questioning our sanity

    Did 52% of Britons really, actively, vote to exit the EU? It doesn’t seem that way: the EU was never really the point during the less than savoury referendum campaign. Those who voted for Leave were sold a dream of “reclaiming our sovereignty” without being told why the EU was bad for them personally, nor what would be improved for them personally once Britain left the EU. Did 48% really vote for the EU, or were they simply hoping for the relatively quiet life of being able to travel, work, study, buy and sell within what has become a large and appealingly non-homogeneous patchwork of countries whilst tacitly accepting the bewilderingly opaque bureaucratic apparatus that enables it?

    Was the referendum correctly set up in the first place? Was 50% the correct limit for such a momentous decision, or should it have been 2/3rds? Should oldies - pensioners - have been allowed to vote at all? Can’t the Queen step in and say: “you bally idiots, it’s our (Queen’s perogative) country and we shall stay in the EU, if only so that one won’t have to produce one’s passport when travelling to one’s castle in Balmoral.”?

    Whatever the answers to these questions, we are now left in the precarious position of Britain being a product sold yet never tested or proven out. We don’t even know if it will remain intact over the coming years: in engineering terms, it’s a state that was never validated before it was introduced to the customer.

    Trial by error

    The Leave campaign was based on disassociated presumptions that were packed into sentences in such a way as to sound like a way for the disaffected English middle to break free of - something - and to arrive at a much better - something else. Unfortunately, the Remain campaign was equally pathetic, having realised fairly early on (presumably in the split second after David Cameron announced the referendum), that the EU is impossible to be passionate about these days.

    Neither side made any attempt made to list out the various implications of each necessary step towards leaving the EU, and could therefore make no list of mitigating measures to prevent the worst of those repercussions hitting the UK as hard as it might.

    The UK’s relationship with Europe and the rest of the world will have to be hammered out in real-time as uncertainties - and some avoidable certainties - cause unpleasant and unforeseen things to happen.

    The future UK will only become what it will be once everything that might happen to it has happened to it. And not much of that will have been properly thought through before the 23rd of June - it certainly won’t adhere to the peddaled flickers of a dream of a greater, better, Britain.

    What now? A question to self

    There still seems to be a residual hope that the increasingly well-known Article 50 (the procedure for leaving the EU) won’t be triggered: but there’s no great point in holding out for that, especially as I wouldn’t have to act if that turns out to be the case.

    If Britain really does start to extricate itself from the EU, I’ll presumably have to start acting - so I should start planning soon or risk falling into the same “dreamland trap” as the politicians. It will most likely involve looking to apply for a European (Irish or German) passport and finding out how my status in Germany will change over time.

    But that’s all for the future. For now I need to strip out as much of the first three feelings that I mentioned at the top of this post - frustration, disbelief, anger - and settle to a state of vaguely positive curiosity as to how things will turn out.

    This will mean reading as little as possible about the politicians (the Boris Johnsons, Michael Goves, Iain Duncan-Smiths and F*****s of this world), forgetting as much as possible the geographic and demographic divides that this referendum revealed, and hoping that the British “Apparat”, the civil servants, regulators, negotiators and the like, are as good as they might reasonably be expected to be when entering discussions with their European, American, Chinese counterparts…

    … or am I selling myself yet another dream?

    → 11:00 PM, Jun 26
  • Bremain Perspectives


    A note to my friends and contacts in the UK

    Don't leave me stranded on the Continent...!

    If there have been any verifiable facts in the debate over Britain's referendum to stay in or to leave Europe to its own devices, I missed them. It's all (up to the lamentable murder of Jo Cox, MP) been an ever more unedifying and frankly embarrassing spectacle of bellowings, bawlings and balderdash ratcheting down to the lowest common denominator red-herrings of immigration and outliers on the EU regulations spectrum.

    So I can't and won't base my thoughts on any clear factual basis. What remain are feelings and conscience, which crystallise in and out as I change perspective. But whatever the perspective, my feelings and conscience compel me to ask you to vote "Remain", if only on the basis that I don't want my life made even more complicated than it already is.
    About me and my European friends

    I live and work in Germany. Nope, not in "Europe", but in Germany. Equally, an Italian friend of mine in Heidelberg didn't move from Europe to Europe for work - he's as Italian as he ever was, perhaps even more so now he's surrounded by barbarians. It's the old discussion I remember having at school, but sometimes it's totally worth remembering that Europe is as diverse as it ever has been, but thanks to 'Europe' our countries no longer have to go to war amongst themselves to express this diversity.

    My Perspectives

    Me being me, I can only describe some of my ways of looking at the whole theme of Europe. Your opinions and perspectives may diverge from mine. That's great! (just vote Remain, OK?)
    The automotive business perspective

    I work as an engineer in the automotive business - emphatically not as a vegetable-straightness worrier (or engine emissions regulator) in Brussels - and to me It doesn't get much clearer than this: Honda, Toyota, Nissan, Jaguar Land Rover and hundreds of suppliers don't want suddenly to be not in Europe. I'm guessing most other industries think similarly.

    I've seen talk that the UK would balance additional customs charges with Europe with the freedom to individually negotiate import duties with other global trading partners. But doesn't having a strong negotiating position somewhat depend on being large? There aren't many trading partners larger than the European Union. The EU is notoriously split inwardly on many issues and can never seem to give a straight answer: that's true and pertinent to the discussion - but is the United Kingdom of {England, Wales, Scotland} and Northern Ireland significantly more coherent than the EU?

    What about other non-EU countries? Switzerland? Japan? South Korea? They're doing OK, aren't they? That's true, and perhaps there are potential models for an "independent" Britain to look at: but we can do that from within the context of the EU (whose regulations we still have to meet in order to trade), especially as Britain still has the flexibility of Sterling (which is another theme altogether).

    The engineer's perspective

    Have there been any testable and disprovable theories in all of these discussions? No, and I accept that it would be unreasonable for us to expect too much of what is such a messily human, emotive, political theme. But an engineer should remain alert to the differences between a sub-optimal actuality and a much-improved dream.

    When we work on developing next-generation products, we create our theories, our models, our prototypes - and we test the hell out of them to discover their limits, to prove (or disprove) that their implementation would indeed result in a better world than what we have at present. Until then, we stick to what we know and have validated.

    What the Brexit campaigners seem to be doing is asking a whole union of disparate countries, regions and cultures (yes, that's Britain I'm talking about) to leap into a dream scenario that can't be modelled, simluated or trialled in advance.

    The engineer's way would be to build a smaller island just off the UK (like the now-famous Guernsey, for example), and exit that first, to test the waters. But I doubt the Johnsons or Farages of this world would have the patience or the funding for anything as long-term as that.

    Wasn't it the same when Britain entered the EU? An unknowable quantity? In one sense, yes, but Britain stood before two equally unsure paths: joining a new, peacable and ideologically appealing community, or staying away whilst the Empire crumbled. The benefits of joining the EU look to have been palpably clearer than of staying away. But perhaps Edward Heath and his government were wrong in 1973 whilst Boris Johnson et al are simply right... right?

    A family man's perspective

    I'm happy for my children to have British nationality and German passports, but my wife and I are mono-nationalities. I'm also very much in the lower quartile of the population when it comes to acceptance of bureaucracy - so for that reason, and because I don't want to be forced to apply for German nationality or to have to plod through ever increasingly baroque and rococo bureaucratic mazes just to stay where I am, thank you very much.

    A European sceptic's perspective

    The biggie with the EU is the democratic deficit. Did we vote for Donald Tusk and Herman van Rompuy? Oh, and I mentioned the word deficit, which has overwhelmingly ecomonic overtones. How badly has (whatever Europe actually is) handled the economic crisis, become overly sensitive to the proclivities of German voters? How embarrassing has the infighting over Syrian refugees been...?

    Wouldn't it be great to just say "stuff it" and to leave them to this monstrosity of a mess they've gotten themselves into? I can accept that that's a tempting thought - and a key reason for British governments to stumble time after time over this uneven, barely traversable terrain. Equally, I can see there having been a compelling reason for David Cameron to push to issue to the level it has reached now: similar to the Scottish referendum, it should be a once-in-a-generation "clear the air" initiative. I just wonder if Cameron realised how close this would come to being a severe miscalculation

    A Briton's perspective

    Finally, I'm still very much a Brit! Mine is no doubt a somewhat skewed relationship with my home country: I've been living away from it for nine years now. I despaired at the frothy celebrity culture, the seeming superficiality of what I saw in the media... And sometimes it takes chats with non-British people to remind me of the deep qualities embedded in our country. But I then just need to think of you, my family, friends and colleagues past and present to remember what we are: uniquely British in our upbringing, a welcome, if sometimes grating, addition to the uniquely unpinpointable European family.
    → 8:47 PM, Jun 20
  • Resurrecting Byword, Resurrecting Blogging

    A title?

    A blog post?

    I’m an inveterate tinkerer with a seemingly innate inability to forget the tools and processes, to concentrate on the message, story or narrative that I want to impart.

    So I’m no back to trying out Byword on the Mac - back to the rather appealing white text on black (well, a strangely relaxing but equally distracting washed-out green-black that highlights the backlighting system on the display, with all its patches of lighter and darker black, redolent of swimming in a lake with its warmer and cooler patches of water).

    I still love the idea of distraction-free typing - but I keep on getting tied up with the mechanics of saving and exporting these markdown files.

    EXCEPT: I’ve just discovered that Byword can publish to Evernote, which is rather a nice little feature, now that I think of it. And it can publish to Blogger… where I’ve had an account and a blog for ages.

    So Byword really is right for tapping out those disjointed nightly thoughts (which I have allowed myself all too rarely of late).

    Parentheses - the jotter’s best friend, a reader’s worst enemy.


    And now… do you know what? I’m revising this note on my Surface tablet, in Markdown via Dropbox, gradually escaping Microsoft Office’s orbit once again (or at least continuing my potentially hopeless task of reducing my dependency on the giants of software, Microsoft, Google and the like.) All I need now is to see if this edit truly makes it back to Byword, to continue my light on dark theme fad of today…

    By golly, it works, even if nobody can understand what I just wrote above. _____________________________________________________________

    So if this document is to become part of my lifestream, what message does it contain? What clues to my person does it hide more than it reveals? Most likely hints of the permanent dreamer: someone who feels the desire to write - to lose himself in writing - but isn’t quite capable of entering that world fully in mind and body. Someone with too many thoughts parked in his head, all of them just slightly too amorphous to write down in any meaningful way. Someone suffering from - and enjoying too much - diversions manifold.

    → 9:22 PM, May 30
  • Swimming in the rain

    This morning, another relaxed, family- and work-free morning, I pottered about getting up, making breakfast and checking the weather. Finally, the rain was due - but only later in the afternoon.

    So, I packed my bag, plopped in my contact lenses, had a cup of tea, read more of “Teach us to sit still” by Tim Parks - an amazing account of his battle to find his balance, in order to alleviate his pain - and then finally hopped on my bike to the Tiergarten swimming pool.

    It was the perfect time to go. I was ready to swim at 11:45 and there were three people in the play pool (the readout showed that was 22 °C - and it really took my breath away when I plunged in), though there was a flurry of wet-suited triathletes taking up a third of the olympic pool (which was a balmy 24 °C). The rest of the place was practically deserted, and I had a lane to myself.

    Without the stress of having to watch out for other swimmers, I realised what really stresses me about swimming - it’s bloody noisy! Whether swimming breast stroke or crawl, breathing out under water creates a barrage of bubbles streaming past my face and my ears. It’s not a dainty little “bubble bubble” - goodness me, no - it’s a cacophony of cavitation, each bubble shrieking and shouting as loudly as possible “BANG! BLUB! BUBBLE!” as each CO2-filled echo chamber flops and gloops its way on by.

    Once I realised that the noise was a key contributor to my emfrazzlement, I couldn’t ignore it, but I could work around it. I started to swim more slowly, more efficiently. I started to glide with each kick, only sweeping with my arms when I felt the legs float up in the stream behind me. Finally, I felt that I had arrived at an acceptable breast stroke style.

    Hopefully this will mean that I’ll be able to move on from the second perennial stress-factor of swimming, which is that I think about it too much, from an engineering perspective: which angle should my hands have? Where is the most effective point to impart the largest impulse with either hands or feet? How’s my streamline angle in the water? And so on ad infinitum, for each swimming style that I try to take on.

    After about half an hour, it started raining. The triathletes all left (to give them credit, I think that was more for lunch than to escape the rain), and slowly and surely the pool emptied. Finally, for a glorious couple of lengths, I was the only person in the pool.

    I finished off with a victorious fast crawl - then topped that by finally trying out the water slide into the play pool.

    → 2:11 PM, Aug 13
  • Rosetta and her multifaceted stone

    Comet on 3rd August 2014 - ESA via Ars Technica
    Well, it's a stone of a few kilometers girth - but compared to the vastness of space, it's a stone, alright. And somehow, humans have managed to send a spacecraft to rendezvous with it. Incredible when you think about it - and almost incomprehensible!

    Here's a great article from Ars Technica summarising the rendezvous. Looking forward to the news in November, when the lander should tether Rosetta to the comet!
    → 10:00 PM, Aug 6
  • Danzemos! (and the other, upside-down exclamation mark before it): a rhythmical, lyrical semester of music

    This has been an interesting semester of music with the Musikfreunde Heidelberg Symphony Orchesta. When I first came across the programme, my heart sank a little: we were in for a crowd-pleasing semester of cheesy dancy Latin American stuff with minimal musical merit.

    Well, it certainly pleased the crowds - and, I am glad to say, it won me over, too. 

    We played seven pieces in all, ranging from Ravel's contemplative Pavane pour un enfant défunt (a Pavane being a dance), through to the highlight of the evening, Danzon 2 by Arthuro Marquéz, all kicked off by Gershwin's inimitable Cuban Overture.

    As you might guess, there was a lot of rhythm to play, with all the precision and control that that implies. It's very easy to think too much about rhythm, but I certainly had to clarify things in my own mind about how long to play a note, how loudly and with which accents - along, of course, with the basic question of when to play each note.

    There was a section in Danzon 2, for example, that required the trombones to play syncopated stabs against the trumpet melody. A 4/4 bar was followed by 6/8, then 7/8 and then we had to come in on the first quaver offbeat of the next 4/4 bar. Whilst we certainly needed to figure out what we should be playing (and when), it soon became a question of feeling the rhythm, not counting it - and certainly not thinking about it.

    All the while, confidence grew and I worked on improving my openness of sound as the necessary base.

    The trombone writing in this programme was all about presence and poise. As I mentioned above, it was about precision accompanied by the ability to give each note, no matter how short, its best. For me, this was another semester of rediscovery of coolness whilst playing. I am slowly learning to relax whilst playing - especially in the throat, which I have always tended to tense up, thereby constricting the flow of air, and wasting energy. The concert was certainly energetic, but I feel I succeeded in playing with a rounder tone than before, and with a more relaxed concentration than I would have achieved in the past.

    We had some personnel difficulties within the section, with the second trombone not really fitting in. He's a young guy and could very well learn the lessons that I've been learning myself - but he didn't manage to give the impression that he was aware of any lessons needing to be learned at all. In addition, he missed both rehearsal weekends, without giving any notice to us at all. That was the final straw. Our conductor and I took the decision to ask him not to play - and, despite my own need to try and avoid conflict, our relief at the decision having been taken was palpable.

    Once that was cleared up, it was a case of hiring a pro to get us through the concerts - and what a pleasure it was, having him and the student tubist on board (our own tame tubist having had to skip this semester). We organised a sectional rehearsal on the Saturday before our set of concerts, and it was a revelation. Suddenly, we were all in tune, suddenly I felt that the musical messages that the conductor had spent the semester of rehearsals trying to get across, got across - albeit through my imperfect translations. Suddenly, we were a low brass section. Suddenly, it felt great to play in an orchestra again.

    As always with the Musikfreunde, the orchestra got tighter and more lyrical over the course of the three concerts. The first was - as usual - a blast, as we hacked our way through most of the repertoire at a school concert, where we had to finish on time so that everybody could get home in time to watch the Germany - Brazil semi-final at the world cup.

    The concert in Neustadt an der Weinstraße was better - less raucous, more controlled, but still somewhat overexcited. Finally, the Stadthalle concert went better than I had hoped for. My Mum, who also came along, noted the ultimate praise: nobody around her in the audience could keep still.

    We had them dancing, and that's what it was all about.
    → 9:08 PM, Jul 22
  • On finding my voice

    A short and not excessively dramatic story of loss and gain

    Some seemingly random and certainly uninvited bugs ganged up to cause me quite a hefty a throat infection this week, with the usual range of symptoms that such an ailment entails: difficulty in swallowing, running a temperature, lethargy - and more or less losing my voice.

    That I could still just about speak made things interesting to observe on one front. Since I've been having to speak “around” the swelling, I have automatically reverted to my most relaxed, my most sonorous voice - but for some reason not my most natural.

    I’ve been noticing of late how I have developed, especially at work, a sharp-edged “scratch” to my voice. It's almost certainly a subconscious attempt to project my voice through the hubbub and grandstanding of the office environment, in a similar way to how city birds have increased their pitch and volume to overcome the ever louder traffic and general background noise of the city. This may even be resulting in damage to their vocal chords and additional stress as a result. Fortunately, I don’t think that I’m that far gone yet, but this throat infection has made me realise that I could try to relax things once more.
    My most relaxed voice is a fairly mellow baritone - but it is quiet. The “scratch” that I have induced, adding almost a "hiss" or distortion to my voice allows it to penetrate the room more effectively (a piping flute was better suited to stroke keeping on rowed ships such as triremes than the archetypal bass drum beat).

    So to keep the soft voice, yet get it heard, I need to raise the overall volume - hopefully without it becoming too boomy (as I'm simply not that type of person).

    Theoretically, I should have no problem with volume control - I do sing, too, after all. Opening and relaxing the throat cavity to give the sound room to develop is a key part of projection in singing. But speaking seems to a different mode altogether, at least to my instincts. This means that raising the volume whilst maintaining the mellifluous tone requires something of a mental shift, too - in one sense it’s modifying my personality, the way that I come across to others.

    The present limitations on my throat with the infection do however mean that I’m not able to modulate my voice as much as I’d like. Whilst reading a bed-time story to my daughter last night, I could hardly differentiate the characters as I normally do (Piglet really shouldn't sound the same as Pooh!). Indeed, the addition of a “grating” tone to the voice does give it greater flexibility as well as help it to carry. I recently listened to a short story read by Benedict Cumberbatch, who also has this more modern element of scratch to his voice in contrast, say, to Richard Burton reading “Under Milk Wood”, which is to my ears plummy beyond belief, if lovely in its own, classical way).

    So - my challenge is to figure out a way of improving my voice, to make it carry more without the “artificial” distortion or equalisation - but also without it becoming some boorish, booming tool to hammer others with. It will be an interesting project!

    As for the birds, well let’s hope that, for their sakes, we all end up driving electric cars (without excess anti-silence regulations) - but without increasing the number of wind turbines that do put paid to the occasional bird before it dies from voice-stress... But that's another theme altogether...
    → 1:35 PM, Mar 20
  • Musikfreunde: Russian Romantics without a hint of snow

    Another semester of orchestral music has drawn to a close with Saturday night's concert of the Musikfreunde Heidelberg Symphony Orchestra in the Stadthalle. The hall was packed, we played with passion and precision (though not always both at the same time), and the audience was by all accounts happy.

    It was an unexpectedly relaxed end to an otherwise hectic term - for me, at least. It was presumably much less relaxing for our principal conductor, who was ill over the last few weeks leading up to the main concert and is still reuperating. He had to limit himself to the concerts (in Gernsbach and Leutershausen as well as the Stadhalle itself), so a couple of final rehearsals were cancelled. With those "pre-concerts" being two weeks before the main one, the final weeks were much less packed than usual. Given that the final result was so good,  perhaps the timing was just right to "depressurise" things, keeping us keen and fresh rather than jaded and exhausted.

    The pressure built up before term had even started. We had struggled to find trombonists to fill one position, and the term had started badly with various of us not being able to attend rehearsals regularly. I, for example, had taken all the music home with me one week, but didn't attend the following week's rehearsal, when other players turned up. It was all a bit frustrating, especially when our conductor sent a few ratty emails to us, and to me in particular as de facto lead trombonist.

    I had skipped last summer's concerts to move house, which turned out to be a welcome break from the hustle and bustle in the build up to the main concerts. With the rather stressful start to this term, I did wonder why I was putting myself through all this.

    As term went on and the programme began taking shape, we uncovered some difficulties with integrating the new trombonist, a young student who tended to get overexcited and to pull us out of shape, both in terms of rhythm and tuning. We had to have a few chats - in one sense to remind him that it was he who needed to adapt to us rather than the other way around. I hadn't expected to have to use some middle-management techniques in an orchestral situation, and I was a little nervous prior to asking him aside for a portion of contructive criticism - but he took the event calmly and seemed to understand that he needed to develop. He still has a lot to learn in terms of breathing and body control: sitting next to a someone trying both to play and to nod to the beat was rather distracting, especially as the length of the trombone tends to amplify movement - but all of that can come with time.

    The music itself was a very appealing mix of humour, drama, pathos and grandeur. As a result of some difficulties in ordering music from Russia (we had planned to play Khatchaturian's Triumphal Poem, but the publisher failed to collect a full orchestra's worth of notes, it had been so seldom played), we resorted to one piece that I had played with the Musikfreunde a few years previously, Rachmaninov's Isle of the Dead, which I have grown to love as a piece. Its depth and the sheer skill in its composition completely knocked any anti-romantic snobbery in me.

    I had never come across Glasunov before, and his 2nd Symphony was an enjoyable blast. It felt almost simple at first, but that simplicity hid a playful inventiveness that made this work much more than (for me) an unknown oddity played more for its rarity than any intrinsic value - no, it paid its way musically, too!

    So, this term was one to remember as a learning as well as a musical experience. The weather was rather less memorable - Russian Romantics in the rain.

    The weather in Heidelberg around concert time

    → 5:43 AM, Feb 17
  • Wikileaks - a history?

    Staatsfeind Wikileaks - "Wikileaks - Enemy of the State" - published in January 2011 by two journalists (Marcel Rosenbach and Holger Stark from Der Spiegel) who followed Julian Assange during the tumultuous year of Wikileaks "revelations" and exposures throughout 2010 is one of those perplexing "history of now" books

    Reading the book (a Christmas present from my brother in law) now, especially the introductory paragraphs, feels strangely hollow, as if there's a large, NSA and Edward Snowden-sized gap in the story being told. Conversely, today there seems to be a Wikileaks and Assange-sized gap in the news - though it's a gap nobody appears to miss very much.

    I'm only at the beginning of Staatsfeind Wikileaks and, despite a noticeable editorial miss (unless I've missed a large Australian city called "Syndey"), it's shaping up to be an interesting read. It has flowed fairly chronologically so far, describing an unusual, unsettled and unsettling person in his youth. Assange's early life on the run - from society, from an aggressive step-father, from security administrators, from the police - and his unfurling into the world of computer geekery and hacking is efficiently told - though I'm not sure if we really needed to know the various unproven theories as to why his hair turned white in his early twenties. Assange is certainly an uncomfortable main character (but then, would a pipe-and-slippers type have set up Wikileaks and have been worthy of a mountain of journalism?). His early hacker activities, whilst no doubt skillful, an art unto themselves, come across as merely petulant. His early activism is rather teenaged - one-sided and immature.

    It is this question about "maturity", "common sense", "protecting us from ourselves and other undesirables" that promises to form a large part of the book, with questions running permanently alongside Assange's actions. How much transparency can we handle? How useful is / has been / will be Wikileaks as a forerunner of a potential open-source future? Have any of the revelations from Wikileaks been of any service, other than to highlight the stinking underside of war and diplomacy which we don't really need to know about?

    What the book certainly won't be able to answer is - is Wikileaks relevant now? With Assange trapped in the Ecuadorean embassy in London, unwilling to face trial in Sweden for alleged sexual assault - presumably since that would be a gateway to his extradition to his bestest friends in the USA - there seems to be a hiatus in the development of this enforced openness. And there doesn't seem to be much in the way of open arms waiting for even more sordid truth to out.

    The Snowden question has blown open the door to discussion about spying. The Assange question is - the way I perceive it - at least slumbering: how much do we and should we know about the political world around us?

    I'll post a review once I'm through...
    → 9:05 PM, Feb 12
  • Spectroscopic sensibilities - The Secret of Scent and rediscovering my nose

    Writing about smelling things makes me feel remarkably uneasy. It seems to be more acceptable somehow to write about music or noise, photography or fashion, even about its food and drink counterpart than it is about odour itself. But it doesn’t have to be this way. Developing the sense of smell is, after all, a skill, a talent, an art, just like learning to listen and to see. And, standing as I do at the very bottom of the olfactory learning curve, I’m very bad at it.

    Unless I had a cold and I couldn’t breathe or taste properly, I took my sense of smell totally for granted. I would pay great heed to it in potentially negative scenarios, like sniffing for food or clothes that were a bit off - until recently, when a book opened my nose to that most chemical of arts, perfume.

    That book was The Secret of Scent by Luca Turin. I unexpectedly found this alluring accord of olfactory geekery and scientific erudition on my bookshelf at home, where it had been left by my father who, as a consulting chemist, works with fragrance firms from time to time. His basic book on the science became my gateway to experiencing this sense afresh.

    Luca Turin is a biophysicist blessed with an evident passion for perfume and a deft turn of phrase. His effervescent enthusiasm for the art is infectious, and drew me into a mysterious world of chypres, fougères, coumarin, aldehydes and patchouli, into a world of Chanel No. 5 and Poison. These strange and wondrous terms made me realise how sparse my vocabulary is for the nose. Not merely in terms of having heard of the words, but in terms of associating them with a meaning, that meaning being a smell.

    Like a conjouror with a red-inlined cape, Dr. Turin suddenly yet elegantly swirls context from the artful to the scientific. He begins by describing each of the key scent types in words and with diagrams of their molecular structures, which play such a key role in the theories of scent. Then he constructs the narrative surrounding their discovery and their relationship with our brains.

    How these molecules are translated into scent signals has always been something of a mystery to science, but it was always something of a brackish backwater to science, not appealing to many, being confounded as it was with biology. In the meantime everybody else continued with their business of smelling things and making things smell as nice as possible regardless, just as footballers blithely make use of some of the most complex physics imaginable without them troubling their bank balances or intellects.

    The presence of unique molecular receptors in the nose was confirmed in the early 1990s, but how those receptors were activated, in what amounted to a lock and key theory remained unexplained.
    Luca Turin’s idea was a synthesis and development of disparate ideas from the past, with a fine story of book shops in Moscow and in Portugal, of fundamental research made at Ford Motor Company, of all places - but in essence, it centres on the idea of the nose being an exquisitely finely tuned spectroscope operating on the principal of molecular resonance. Like odorous instruments, each molecule has its own set of harmonics, which set the timbre of that instrument, of that smell.

    The theory still has its opponents and its inherent difficulties in validation - the critical tests still rely on peoples’ noses: according to the theory, two identically shaped but differently massed molecules (e.g. through isotopes) should smell different. Equally, two completely dissimilar molecules with the same frequency spectra should smell the same. The evidence seems to be stacking up in favour of this theory - but its detractors and some counterevidence remain.

    But for now I personally don’t really care how the theory is getting along*. I’m too busy rediscovering my nose and the whole sensory apparatus associated with it. I want to try out some of the unique, individual scents in a fragrance. I want to know if I can “imagine” roast chicken in the same way that I can visualise a car or hear music. Can I learn to remember a smell, or a taste? That’s something that I’m remarkably poor at doing.

    The main thing is that there’s a part of me that has been active only in the background for so many years - it’s time to give it some room to breathe!

    *Neither, apparently, does Dr. Turin.. He does, however, care that his theory is getting results. He founded a company dedicated to designing scents based on their spectral profiles and has had some notable successes, including a replacement for the natural yet carcinogenic coumarin. This company, alongside his books, is how he makes his money...

    You can find out more about Luca Turin via his 2005 TED talk and from a BBC Horizon programme from 1995 when the theory was very fresh and very controversial.
    → 11:00 PM, Feb 10
  • Random Ambivalent Listenings

    The “Albums of the Year” articles are trickling in, including this one from the Guardian on Daft Punk’s Random Access Memories. In it, there’s a wonderful quote that really hits the mark on how I feel about the album - originally from Sasha Frere-Jones in the NYT: 

    “The duo has become so good at making records that I replay parts of Random Access Memories repeatedly while simultaneously thinking it is some of the worst music I’ve ever heard … This record raises a radical question: does good music need to be good?"

    This hits home on the interplay between composition and production / performance, a wonderfully delicate balance. Of course, a terrible performance can wreck even the best composition - but for me, it’s better to find nuggets of a great composition in the rubble of a poor performance than to be able to appreciate an amazing performance of dross.

    André Rieu and Daft Punk on the same side of the spectrum? Harsh, but one to think about.

    → 11:15 PM, Dec 18
  • Looking at things to drive in

    2CV hub - reminds me of the Tintin books!
    The other museum- Oh. Sorry, I'll have to start that again.

    Over Easter, you may recall, I visited the German Phonographic museum in St. Georgen. We also visited another building full of mostly old stuff - but it wasn't a museum.

    We went to the Autosammlung Steim in Schramberg. This collection has been built up over the years by Dr. Ing Hans-Jochen Steim, with the express intent of being driven. And what a collection it is! Much more compact than equivalents like Sinsheim, it initially comes across as being small and stuffy - but the quality of the cars in there speaks for itself, as do the occasional tell-tale tyre marks along the otherwise pristine floors.

    Definitely worth a visit, as the (again, smartphone) photos below will attest.

    As an aside, Herr Dr. Ingenieur Steim was chairman of the Kern-Liebers group of companies. These make such "dull" products as springs and stampings. However, one look at the range of products they produce shows how intrepid a traditional engineering firm can be when it looks at and develops its products in the right ways: from automotive injection systems to the textile industry right the way to pacemakers and hearing aids, their products are there. And when you next desperately try to avoid the flailing cable retracting at great speed into your vacuum cleaner, you can admire the strength and consistency of Kern-Lieber springs, too!

    1932 Auburn Boat-tail Speedster

    1963 Auto-Union SP100 Speedster


    1968 McLaren Formula 2









    → 9:20 PM, May 13
  • Looking sideways

    Travel often doesn’t happen quickly enough, even if you’re travelling fast. Often it’s a case of losing perspective, losing the perception of speed. We all know it from driving on the Autobahn - our brains trick us into feeling that overtaking lots of cars slowly in a traffic jam is swifter or more effective than cruising along at the same 140 kmh speed. Similarly, sitting in a train with others in a carriage is torture for me - there is no feeling of progress.

    I had this feeling recently when cycling home from work one pleasant evening (weather-wise, at least: work-wise it had been a crappy day) and suddenly felt that I wasn’t proceeding fast enough. It was creating a tension: I wanted to be on my bike, pedalling away my stresses from work - yet, I wanted to be at home straight away, knowing that I would then be in the vortex of kiddy dinner times and puttings to bed.

    Then I looked sideways. My shadow was fair flying over the fields between Eppelheim and Grenzhof. Looking sideways radically changed my perspective. I was no longer monitoring the imperceptible angle and distance changes of the road ahead, but seeing the turned soil and the remaining maize stalks sweep my complete field of view in sub-second times. I was experiencing speed again (yes, I wish to reclaim this word) - and it was refreshing.

    → 6:07 PM, May 11
  • Looking at things to listen to


    Timing in music, comedy and writing is of the essence, so it is ironic that I should appear to be posting this in such a timely fashion after the announcement that a team has managed to reconstruct the sound from the wax disc that recorded Alexander Graham Bell's voice from 1885. All of a sudden, I have a relevant segué to present my old news in a new, refreshed light.


    Over the Easter holidays, oh so long ago now, but at least this year still, we managed to park the children with the Großeltern for a happy few hours and to drive to the wholly unremarkable Black Forest town of St. Georgen near Villingen.

    The town is, sorry to say, not much to look at. But it was the centre of two key industries as they rose and fell in waves; clock making, and record players. I'm not that much of a watch connoisseur, but I have always enjoyed audio and hifi, so when I saw the signs for the Deutsches Phonographisches Museum in St. Georgen, it was always going to be a place to visit.

    The famous Dual logo (from Wikipedia)
    Perhaps the most famous brand to come out of the St. Georgen is Dual, with their wonderfully stark logo and great record players. The name stems from their technique of combining a clock-maker's spring (from which the company sprang) with an electric motor, creating their signature dual motor system (I suppose we would call it a hybrid these days). Dual and its related competitor, Perpetuum Ebner, were the hight of hifi for several decades, but neither survived the switch to CDs. Dual tried a spot of badge-engineering via Rotel - but that's rarely a forward thinking strategy and, after a rather demeaning round of sales to ever less relevant groups, they folded.

    A couple of ex-employees got together and put together a German phonographic museum in the St. Georgen town hall. It's a pleasant, light space on two floors, full of a record players from the very beginnings in the USA and France (Edison and Pathé), via the dominance of the German and Dutch manufacturers and through to the demise of Dual. Whilst the collection is ordered chronologically, we still felt that there was a lack of a "story" behind the industry. What helped its massive expansion, how it withered on the branch here in Germany and - for me, notably - how it continues to this day. There was no mention of current high-end record player production from the likes of Linn or Pro-Ject, and there was only a passing mention of new music formats (with no sign of an iPod at all).

    The strangest thing for me from the collection was the sound. The main hall, with reception, is also the location of a small stage where a video of how records and music developed. This then booms across the whole collection, which I found rather distracting. Secondly, there was also a random selection of old LPs and singles with some rickety looking turntables - but no instructions as to whether playing them was permitted or not. We had the possibility of paying 1 Euro to watch a 1980s high-end turntable play and to spin around in its gyroscopic gimbal, but by that stage I didn't feel like I really wanted to.

    What I wanted was something like an audio room, where we could hear how the old horn record players sounded, how a 1970's Dual turntable with the amplifiers of the day sounded, and how a modern system might sound. After all, that's what they were built for.

    I fully understand the difficulties surrounding that - how to organise and to protect such systems from the grasping public - but perhaps the old chestnut of a bank of good quality headphones would be a start. (Update: I see from their website that they're holding a record playing evening on 11th May 2013. I'm not sure I can go, but it's exactly what I'd love to see - and to hear!)

    I'd love to go back again in a few years, to see how and if they develop the collection. In the meantime, here are a few more smartphone photos for you to peruse whilst I try not to buy myself a Pro-Ject Debut Carbon...



    → 3:35 PM, Apr 28
  • Excuses manifold

    This blog looks to be in grave danger of becoming an orphan; no writer to care for it, only the occasional glance in from human readers and data mining bots as they continue moving swiftly on to other digital destinations, only Google’s server farm keeping it from sinking into the digital abyss. A blogging pause has happened here before, of course, as noted in my Blogging State Of the Union post from October 2012.  I’ve again not posted here for several months, obviously because nothing of interest has happened to me in that time.

    Perhaps that’s right. The day-to-day has been pretty overwhelming and I’ve found that whilst trying to keep my engineering blog a little more lively, there’s simply not been the headroom, or quiet time, or energy to work on this here blog. But what about the content? Has that been lacking, too? Thankfully, I think not.

    What have I been up to since Shanghai? Well, I played in another symphony orchestra concert (Gershwin, Shostakovitch and Rachmaninov’s 3rd Symphony). I remixed a Jamiroquai track for their 20th anniversary remix competition, we were served notice and had to find a new house to live in, I started jogging again… and again…, I worked, and took part in general family life.

    Over the Easter holidays, I enjoyed visits to the Steim Automuseum and to the Deutsche Phonographisches Museum - which I will describe in another post - and I worked.

    So, lots of excuses not to keep this blog ticking over: many of those excuses could easily have been made into entries in this online diary of mine, building up my insignificant history, for as long as the Blogger servers and HTML continue…

    …anyway, enough mulling and pondering, enough slumping into sofas, and onwards with the writing!

    → 10:01 PM, Apr 25
  • Shanghai and indirectly back again...



    I’m writing this on the plane from Shanghai to Bangkok (fortunately for you, I'm editing it several days later from home). It’s going to be a long post, as it's been a long several days: now, tapping this into my work laptop whilst sat in seat 8D in this Airbus A330, I’m as exhausted as I can remember being in a long time. I’m forcing myself to think and to write so that I can stay awake until we land in Bangkok: I arrive there at around 9 pm local time, which is something like 2 pm home time. I want to make the transition back to European time as quickly as possible, so I’ll wait until the homeward flight from Bangkok to Frankfurt, departing around two hours after I land, before I finally allow myself to sleep.

    Nearly home
    So – why Shanghai, why Bangkok and what Business Class delights did I have to eat on this Thai Airways flight TG665 to Bangkok? Well, as the swordfish was unrecognisable as a specific foodstuff, I’ll skip that question and proceed to try and answer the first two questions instead.

    I was in Shanghai to teach. It's amazing how refreshing it is to write that phrase there: any emergencies were pushed to the background, drawing updates and supplier discussions; I did have to tack on a visit to Shanghai Volkswagen before these flights, but essentially, I was in Shanghai as a trainer, as someone who, in the company context, has much to offer from my experience with living the basics (and the many details hidden therein) behind what we do.

    Our training team was made up from Quality and Manufacturing as well as Technology: sales and purchasing were not directly represented, except on the receiving end. The focus was very much on bringing people up to speed on how to get the product right and out the door in the best possible way (in the various ways that "best" can be interpreted).

    The training was called into being following some clear examples recently of things not being "best" at all; senior management agreed that it was worth the investment in starting this training initiative, and in making it global.

    We started with what initially appears to be the hardest possible region, Asia Pacific (AP). There were colleagues from throughout China, Japan, Korea, India, Thailand and Australia, so there was a significant cost associated with flying people in and housing them in hotels, and there were cultural and language hurdles to overcome.

    But it made sense to start with the AP region as it could be considered to be low-hanging fruit in terms of the general skill-set. But I really think AP was the easiest of the regions to start with. When presenting I noticed how focussed people were on what I was saying; I saw the eyes looking back at me – they were hungry for knowledge in a way that none of us can expect of the more “developed” regions of Europe and North America, who “know everything anyway.”

    My presentations went well, despite some additional hurdles that you'll read about next - for me, the best feedback were the questions. People were asking me about really specific things, they were a little bit confused and wanted to clear things up… I was impressed at how many colleagues came to talk to me during coffee breaks and over lunch.

    So, we made a successful start with Shanghai. Alas, I didn’t get to see much of the city other than the Hilton hotel, the Shaanxi Hotel where our seminars were held, and Malone’s American bar, where westerners would gather for beer and a superb pub band.

    The key reason for not seeing more is that I didn’t check my Chinese visa before checking in for my flight on the Saturday. The original plan was to go in October. For that I ordered a six-month two-entry visa and received it in September. So when I turned up for my flight to Shanghai on the Saturday, I was looking forward to a Sunday of acclimatising, seeing the financial district and old Shanghai followed by a Monday of preparation with the team.

    Naturally, when I was turned away from check-in, it was disappointing and extremely frustrating. My visa had expired in December. What I had been sure was a six-month one, valid from September to March was in fact a three-month, single visit one. I simply hadn’t checked that I had received what I had ordered. Buyer beware, I suppose.

    So, I drove back home - and more or less didn’t have the weekend with the family that I shouldn’t have had anyway. I was so disappointed with myself for not having been permitted to fly, and so filled with the anxieties of everything that could go wrong on the Monday morning when I would head to the Chinese consulate in Frankfurt to obtain an express visa, that I couldn’t really be with the family mentally.

    I popped into work on Saturday afternoon to fill out application forms and hunted around for various bits of supporting documentation – I was reasonably confident that I had everything that I would need (apart from a fresh invitation letter that I hoped would arrive from China by email on the Monday morning – which it did), but still my fears of bureaucracy and the whims of its executors remained. I slept terribly all weekend.

    Finally, Monday arrived and my family could gladly see the back of the caged bear that I had become and I could take my cares with me up along the Autobahn to Frankfurt Kennedystraße, home of our local friendly Chinese consulate.

    I arrived just after opening hours, and was initially glad to see nobody there; I would be through in a trice, in good time for my rescheduled early afternoon flight to Shanghai with China Eastern. I was done and dusted very quickly, but in a very negative sense. They no longer process visas there any more, I was told, and I would have to go to an outsourced company called “Visas for China”, where I could apply for a passage to China that would arrive within 6-7 working days of the application. They stopped issuing express visas at the beginning of January (none of which was up on the Consulate’s web page, naturally).

    So, I called the team who were preparing in Shanghai to tell them that I was dead in the water. We started to discuss contingency plans, especially video conferencing, which we all agreed would be simply awful, like pulling teeth from 6000 miles away. Then, an English colleague now based in Adelaide thought of a new scenario – that it was now possible to fly to Shanghai and to “transit” there for 72 hours. The condition was that my next destination after Shanghai on the itinerary was not my home airport.

    I was terrified – now would I not just be driving to Frankfurt to find that things could go bureaucratically pear-shaped, but I would be flying to the heartland of whimsical bureaucracy (no, I don’t mean the USA...), China, without any supporting documents other than my itinerary, which I would have to print out somehow.

    So, it became an all or nothing flight. Our assistant rescheduled my flights to Shanghai and then to Bangkok as the next stop. The administrative risk for me was the obvious fact that my final flight home, the one that I am flying to catch now, was a mere two hours after I landed – a clear signal that my “transit” through Shanghai was anything but. If they were to reject me on that technicality – well, I was going to try to say that the flight back was flexible business class that would be rebooked as soon as I knew the full scope of my tasks in Bangkok (we do have a plant near there, so it would not have been a total fabrication).

    I finally flew with Lufthansa, squirming for over nine hours in my grey economy seat and landed before midday on Tuesday morning, ready to face my fears - and the immigration officer. She investigated my passport, found the expired visa and started to look officially quizzical. I said "72 hours" and showed her my itinerary. She asked me to step aside for a few minutes and phoned a supervisor.

    I was fatigued from not being able to sleep on the flight over and jet lagged, but I doubt that it would have been any different had I been in the best of conditions: my mind started spinning through worst-case scenarios – being asked into an office for further questioning, being told to get straight back on the plane back to Frankfurt, getting some kind of black mark that would prevent me from ever entering China again… All the while, the welcoming video of smiling Chinese immigration officers, smiling children, kung-fu fighting soldiers, and tanks rolled its loop.

    Finally the awful moment arrived with the supervisor. He took my itinerary and visibly started counting the days and hours between my arrival and the departure to Bangkok. Finally, the maths seemed to add up, (my two-hour sojourn in Bangkok seemingly insignificant) – and I was in.

    A driver picked me up and drove me to the conference hotel. I arrived just as one presentation was ending and mine was about to begin; with me in my flight clothes (in-flight-dinner-stained hoodie, jeans and flat-footed trainers) and the memories of a Lufthansa breakfast in my stomach, I made my presentation.

    It went, by and large, very well. There were technical difficulties with connecting to our VPN (my anti-virus software went nuts as we connected to the hotel wifi) so I couldn’t demonstrate our SharePoint system, and I think I faded during the last few points, but the feedback over the next day was overwhelmingly positive. There were so many compliments, good questions and comments to the effect that this would help them with all sorts of discussions and issues with their customers that I came away with the impression that we had made a good start.

    The view from my hotel room
    The first evening was a “quiet” one just for us presenters (plus a couple of Aussies who needed a night out, too). One of the Australians had lived in Shanghai for seven years, has a Chinese wife and speaks (to my ears) fluent Mandarin, so we let him take us out. His initial plan was thwarted by an overbooked restaurant – and when we neared plan B, my heart sank. We weren’t all flying thousands of miles to this country only to go to an American bar, were we?

    We were.

    Of course, it was a brilliant night out. Much more relaxed than had we gone to that restaurant, we ate burgers, drank our beers and were rocked by Art6, the house band of Philippinos who rolled out classic after classic (AC/DC, Police, Blink 182 - a modern classic by any pub-band definition).

    {hooray, we’re beginning our descent – soon time for bed!}

    Cucumber juice!
    I got to bed at around 1am local time, ready for my breakfast (with cucumber juice, naturally) and leaving the hotel at 8am.

    The second day was certainly more relaxing for me: I could switch off for the morning whilst our Spanish colleague presented standardised Quality controls. I didn't fall asleep, but I certainly consumed more coffee than normal.

    He was coming to the end of his presentation when a director from North America sidled up to me and asked if I wanted to come to lunch with him and our Australian guide, instead of staying in the hotel. I of course said yes, and off we went, for the most amazing lunch in a new-but-traditional dumpling restaurant.

    Lunch took a little longer than anticipated, and I got back… Just in time for my next presentation!
    The dumpling-makers
    We finally got through the day and had our end-of-course dinner with all participants. It was good to meet many of the faces behind the names I'd come across in my multitude of emails received over the last several years. Eventually, dinner drew to a close and we headed back to our hotel (the Shanghai Hilton, if you must know) to mull over a few things over some beers in the lobby and then to go to bed.
    Except - some colleagues from Australia whom I'd met years before were in Malone's bar and wanted to meet up with me. I told them no; but knew that I'd regret not heading out to see them when I had the chance. So my Spanish colleague and I walked back out to Malone's for another few beers and rock music.

    Little did we know that, stood where we were, I would be called out to join the band on stage to dance - first, freestyle, and then, with two other volunteers (the Spaniard and some other guy from the bar), to hop around Gangnam Style!

    All good fun (and I have locked away the video evidence of that…) and all very late and all very exhausting. Perfect preparation, in other words, for being checked out and picked up at 7am to travel to a meeting with Shanghai Volkswagen.

    Fortunately, that meeting felt like an extension of my training presentations. I showed them what we know about our products, what they have to gain with moving to our latest offerings - and then rode off through the hazy sunset to the airport.

    And so we have it. I slept through most of the flight back to Frankfurt on the Thai Airways A380, landed before 6am on Friday, drove home for breakfast with my family and then went into work for the rest of the day, principally to prevent myself from falling asleep rather than for anything particularly productive.

    Now I'm back in the mill, back off the stage and into the crush of the day-to-day. I'd like to think that the training we did will have a lasting benefit - but that's utopian. It'll all fade away with the audience, too, as they step back into their real worlds: which is why we'll need to maintain momentum. We'll do this live again in Europe and America this year, but we'll have to tune things for webinars, too. Only that way, with lots of repetition, will we have a chance of making things stick.


    → 10:37 PM, Jan 30
  • Socks: an addendum

    I wrote in my post concerning socks the other day that I didn’t like my Sealskinz waterproof socks one little bit.

    Today, when I ended up taking my daughter and her friend sledding this afternoon, having thought and written about those Sealskinz recently, I thought I might try them out again. Lo and behold - they were fine.

    The secret this time was to wear a pair of summer ankle socks underneath; quite why I didn’t come up with that idea before I don’t know, but it helped no end to ‘normalise’ the Sealskinz to something akin to socks.

    And the sledding was great fun, of course!



    (I also notice that the Sealskinz sock range has been refined somewhat since I bought mine all those years ago... worth another shot?)
    → 9:24 PM, Dec 9
  • The subtle tyrrany of the sock logo

    What will they think of next?
    Like so much in life, there's not, superficially, much to say about socks. They, by and large - and not wishing to denigrate their designers or manufacturers - simply are. We notice them only when there's something not quite right about them, something that makes them stand out, something that takes us out of our comfort zone, and into a state of alertness, like wearing a watch on the wrong hand.

    Mine, as you might now expect, have been bothering me lately - but in a way that only socks can.

    It's not that they are uncomfortable; far from it. From experiences both good and bad throughout my sock-buying life I know what I want and have settled on one main source: whenever I'm back in the UK, I stock up on socks from Next. I know that they fit, they're decent quality and - well, they just work.

    So, what does a sock have to do to work? Well, first and foremost, a sock can't work unless it's one of a pair. Certainly, odd socks can be and often are worn, but that function if they are both of the same make and if the wearer is either oblivious to the fact or is being aggressively contrarian. A business sock and single cotton, knee-length Bavarian Lederhosen sock would be so wrong that the combination wouldn't make it out of the bedroom door, or the wearer is an artist. But one brown sock and one black sock? It happens. If one of a pair has a hole in it, that pair becomes separated into two individual socks - the pair is dissipated and both will be thrown away sooner rather than later. I've tried darned socks, and they're awful, the new threading putting a strange pressure on the pampered, sensitive balls of my feet: fortunately I'm not poor enough that putting up with them is a necessity.

    I've tried cheaper socks that felt like cotton shopping bags - something designed for carrying potatoes rather covering feet. I also own an expensive pair of Sealskinz waterproof foot coverings (I daren't bless them with the honourable title of sock) which are so uncomfortable, they feel like a Lenten penance rather than a sporting luxury. Wet feet are more comfortable than that. They seemed a good internet purchase at the time. And most "technical" fabrics simply don't belong on feet. Some may make the promise of "wicking" sweat and all of that - but there's nothing better than cotton for me. So the precise form of a sock, the material selection and the quality of the stitching are all key.

    And socks have to look good.

    What is a good-looking sock? Fortunately, there is no single answer to that question. Some people can get away with massively contrasting socks, like a combination I recall seeing at the Paris Motor Show in September: blue socks against pink trousers - I think it worked brilliantly, though it's not even remotely my style. Others go for the traditional Burlington diamonds, but I find that too fussy.

    No, for me it's about a single, muted colour that can theoretically work with any combination of clothes I might happen to have thrown on in the morning. The problem with socks as part of the early morning on-throwing is that, as I mentioned, for them to function properly there have to be two of them.

    For the vast majority of socks that I have owned, this has not been a problem. Socks are normally symmetrical, so on they go without any further mental effort on my part. But now more often than not, socks have logos on them and that, finally, is what has been bothering me.

    The problem with these logos is that I know that they they are there to be displayed - either as a vaguely personal statement of sartorial individuality or of sartorial belonging to a particular tribe; in either case, they are, as any logo is, also a form of advertising.

    So, logos are there to be displayed and to be seen, meaning they should be worn on the outside of the ankle where, when you're sat with one leg crossed over the other and the trousers have rucked up to the top of the sock, others can glance at said logo and appreciate it for whatever symbol that is.

    The thing about these logos is, though, that they are nearly always sewn on one side of the sock only. And, appreciating the necessity of displaying the logo, one sock always has to go on one dedicated foot, every time.

    Everybody applies the pressures of footfall to particular areas on the foot, in their own way, but usually it starts with the balls of the feet. With the socks now dedicated to one foot each, it means that these socks are no longer being eroded on the "inside" or the "outside" of the sole at random times, like flipping a coin - no, they are being pressed and rubbed and squashed at the same point each and every time, meaning that one of these socks is going to wear out more quickly.

    I have no idea if the rate of erosion to a hole is significantly greater with a foot-dedicated sock than for randomly applied socks, but the theory holds, and that's been bugging me of late.

    Am I man enough, then, to throw the shackles of logo duress? Or shall I go meekly back to buy the next pair of replacements, and the ones after that? You know, I think I will - it's a small price to pay for the comfort of conformity...
    → 11:16 PM, Dec 6
  • Hit or miss: fun on the mountain bike

    Mountain biking (an all to rare occurrence for me these days) is not a purely physical exercise; the brain is given a real workout, too. I’ll concede straight away that it’s by no means an intellectual exercise - I’m not necessarily thinking of anything at all (also a rare occurrence, one to be encouraged). But sometimes I become aware of the sheer mass of calculations that the brain is performing whilst I’m on the bike. It’s thinking almost as hard as the legs are pumping.

    Of the many types of calculations buzzing around in my head, the most satisfying for me is the “hit or miss” question. I’m pedalling along a trail, at best upwards, and there’s a rock in the way. Now, I can miss the rock with my wheels simply by steering away from it. But if things are tight and there isn’t much room for manoeuvre, I start wondering if I’m going to bottom out with my pedals - which is usually a worse situation than hitting a rock with the wheel.

    Is that pedal going to hit that rock (and who's going to come of worse?)

     Pedals don't have big fat tyres or squishy suspension. What they feel, you feel.

    With the pedals entering a zone of uncertainty, the brain embarks upon a series of vector-style calculations, that goes something like this:

    - my current gearing (including wheel size) is such that
    - if I keep pedalling at the same rate
    - from this current rotational position
    - and with my pedals at this height from the ground, I will
    - miss / just miss / hit that rock

    If I am going to grind the pedal on that rock, with all the ensuing discomforts, I can take action with a few more calculations:
    - at this vertical incline I have sufficient momentum to be able to stop pedalling briefly without completely losing forward motion
    - I can change gear to change the rate of rotation of the pedal in question
    - I can incline the bike to one side, raising the pedal height
    - I can attempt to raise the height of the whole bike (by trying something silly like a bunny-hop)
    - I will need to ride over the rock (thereby starting a new set of calculations)

    But by far the most satisfying result of all of this is the near miss. It's a confirmation that everything the brain worked out was correct, and that gives it an immense sense of pride - whatever that means in brain-speak (hormones, of course).

    So, whenever you're next out on your bike, even if you're out and about in town rather than downhilling, just be aware of and amazed at all the things you don't hit.
    → 11:09 PM, Nov 24
  • Variations on the theme of Rock-a-bye baby

    One of the lullabies that I sing to our daughters has, by necessity, developed over the years. When our eldest was old enough to express her thoughts and consternations, it became clear how the original lyrics of Rock-a-bye baby (originally not intended to be a lullaby, I believe) were deeply worrying to her:

    Rock-a-bye baby, on the tree-top
    When the wind blows, the cradle will rock
    And when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall
    And down will come baby, cradle and all

    It sounded very much like at least a big “Ouch” for the baby, and L was uncomfortable with that. Now, I know that there will always be howls of protest at how traditional childrens' songs are being softened, made more “correct” and in a way neutered - but English childrens' songs in particular are a strangely brutal bunch with lots of head choppings and smashings to pieces and I’m not totally at ease with that. So, over the years, our version of Rock-a-bye baby changed and gained a few verses as I sang, waiting and hoping for the child finally to go to sleep. There are often more ad-libbed verses, often to do with the day’s events, but these are the current standards:

    Rock-a-bye baby, on the tree-top
    When the wind blows, the cradle will rock
    And when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall
    Down into the arms of Daddy so tall

    Rock-a-bye baby in- the car,
    Wheels going round and round so far
    And when the car stops and we take out the key,
    We’ll all be back home in time for our tea

    Rock-a-bye baby on- a bike
    Pedalling so fast to places we like
    To the butchers and the bakers, to get our croissants
    Then off to the Hostig* to play and sing songs

    Rock-a-bye baby on- a boat
    We like our toast and Marmite afloat
    But when we find out we’ve less tea than we thought,
    We turn the boat round and head back to port

    True, there’s a certain fixation with cups of tea: but what else sums up the goodness of sitting together and having a chat about nothing in particular?

    *Hostig is a local playground.


    → 9:50 PM, Nov 11
  • Bruckner's Marvellous Eighth


    In the spirit of catching up on some drafts, I felt I had to get this one out sooner rather than even later. The impressions left upon me by Bruckner's Eighth Symphony, though very much attenuated by time, still resonate, amplified a little by completing this post - which is, of course, one of the key points of a blog.

    It was on the 22nd May 2012 that we left our daughters in the capable hands of Oma and Opa and cycled down to the Stadthalle in the warm evening sunshine to (watch? Hear?) experience the symphony played by the Heidelberg Philharmoniker under the baton (and hair) of Cornelius Meister in his final series of concerts before leaving for the richer delights of Vienna.

    The symphony is an enormous, programme-filling late romantic beast of a piece, very much on the cusp of a new era. Written between 1884 and 1887, when Mahler was hitting his stride and starting to redefine symphonic performance, with Stockhausen and his ilk were not far behind, it feels like the final roar of a romantic classical alpha-stag. It uses many idioms that are well known in Romantic music, all of which I find unbearably cheesy: I was ready to despise the piece, yet, one or two slight excesses aside, it all made wonderful sense, like a language newly understood (now, in November, barely remembered).

    The ninety minutes of symphony went by without the faintest hint of impatience stirring within me. The drama and the pathos felt sincere rather than overblown and only the repeats in the third (slow) movement were noticeable as musical devices rather than being in my mind integral to the narrative arc. And yes, Bruckner could write for brass (as well as for toffee).

    The concert, while of course being about the music, was almost principally about the conductor. It was his final hurrah with the orchestra in Heidelberg and a bold choice from an aptly arrogant young conducting talent. Much can be said of Meister's fluid conducting style, which I at times found rather distracting, but he did achieve a very strong sound from the orchestra. This can't be put down solely to the brass section, which carried so much weight both musically and physically, adding such warmth and power to the palette: the whole mix was very convincing and felt utterly appropriate for the music being performed. My only critique of the performance was that I too often felt a lack of pulse, a slight unsteadiness with the beat. From the audience, I found it hard to discern a beat, it has to be said.

    But those were the most minor of quibbles pitted against an overwhelmingly excellent evening of music. We left the concert hall impressed, filled with a renewed love for symphonic music - and ready for sharing a bottle of wine with the Großeltern back home rather than finding a noisy bar somewhere.

    As an aside, I spoke with the cor anglais player in my own orchestra a few days after that performance. She is married to one of the oboists in the Heidelberger Philharmoniker and told me how he would get back home after each of the three concerts and simply slump exhausted onto the couch. The symphony is certainly extremely taxing physically - but I can imagine those players having invested significant amounts of emotional energy into the performances, too.

    As a final aside; in perhaps a rather unfair comparison with my own orchestra, it was wonderful to be able to listen to the string section without any sense of unease, expectation of disaster or simply dread... Long may professional orchestras continue!

    I am grateful for having had and taken the opportunity to experience (yes!) that piece live and look forward to living music more often. (Are you listening, kids?)

    Ah, no. Not yet.
    → 10:20 PM, Nov 9
  • My blogging state of the union


    I think, after more than 18 months of maintaining this online presence, I can now confirm that blogging is not a trivial activity. Translating thoughts to series of words that have both meaning and flow can be surprisingly hard work. Perhaps I make too much of a meal of it, revising and editing my posts to the point of never finishing them, but neither am I comfortable with the splash and dash method: a blog is a document of some permanence, and is therefore worthy of being done correctly. Whilst blog posts can (and, really, should) be edited after publication, I still hold to the old concept of the publishing date bearing some relation to the date of an particular thought or event.

    Still, jamais être content is a burden (umm, that’s content in the sense of satisfaction, rather than information). I can see eight unpublished drafts listed behind the scenes of this blog, plus another two or three on my On Engineering blog. It’s manageable, but there are strong indications that I’m not a great finisher. I would by no means call myself a perfectionist, but there’s something that blocks me from hitting that post button.


    One key blocker is not actually the text, but images. I have tacitly taken on the idea that each post should have an image associated with it. The images used should act as a kind of visual abstract, a simultaneous summation and an enticement to read. Just text looks a bit dull, goes the thinking, so it's a good idea to pep up each post with some artwork. The problem is that there are so many difficulties with images: the sourcing, the copyright and the aesthetics, thereof, that I sometimes spend more time on searching for images than I do writing. I want to break away from this constraint, so I'm going to follow the path of ownership: if I didn't take the photo or make the sketch myself, then it's not mine and it doesn't belong in my blogs. Alas, I'm not a graphic designer or even particularly much of a visual type, so there will be a distinct lack of cool sketches; but at least you will be able to read published text rather than not read a collection of drafts. In any case, it's the words that are important to me. There are also some good examples of well-respected bloggers that eschew images, including Rands in Repose, so I'm not alone.

    Then there's the question of time and inclination to actually dedicate thought and effort to the creation and revision of these posts.

    Creation and editing - they do rather seem too grand a pair of words to be associated with blogging; but since I'm writing neither novels nor poetry, they'll have to put up with being squeezed into the blogging box. And that box really has often to take a back seat.

    The worlds of work and family, segueing seamlessly into one another, fill up so much time that I have precious few hours to myself. And there are very few of those few hours in which I feel I have the energy and concentration to write cogently.

    I started this blog in May 2011 and have written a grand total of 46 posts plus 12 over at On Engineering (since Jan 2012); not a particularly high strike rate, I'll admit, but it feels worthwhile continuing, both here and at On Engineering.

    So, if you are reading this; don't hold your breath for the next exciting instalment and don't expect particularly worthy artwork - but do expect cogently presented thoughts and observations as I continue ambling through life, pausing every so often for breath and a bit of a chat.
    → 2:53 PM, Oct 30
  • Heidelberg is not in China, and neither am I

    Shanghai. From words-chinese.com
    So, after a totally manic Monday, racing around Bürgeramts, HR departments, getting signatures from executive directors, answering technical questions during a telecon and then driving up to the Chinese Consulate in Frankfurt, only to arrive after their 11:30 am closing time...

    I don't have a visa.

    And, thankfully, I don't need to go. Not yet, anyway.

    The main justification of sending me to China this week was to pacify the customer and to show that we have people who know what they're talking about, technically. However, I am present in nearly all of the meetings via telecon, so they know who I am and that my company has me on board.

    The benefits of standing back a little and waiting to do things better are now clear. Firstly, somebody realised that by the time I arrived in Chongqing early next week, the people I'd need to talk to would be on holiday, leaving me with not much to do other than some sightseeing. And parts that were sent to me from China have just arrived today, so I'll be testing them in our labs, too, rather than watching films on a plane.

    But more importantly we can now think about how best to move things forward so the issue that we're having doesn't happen again. So we're going to design a training programme, of which I'll be part of, with measurables to assess progress (a little test afterwards, some practical lab experience, for example) throughout China - and probably Asia Pacific. Once that's in place, there's nothing to stop me (hahaha!) going on to conquer the world - well, my little company world, anyway, and making sure that we level up our skill-set.

    (Recruiters - see those buzzwords fly!)

    But, let's not get ahead of ourselves here. I'm still at home, in Heidelberg. My wife's out saying farewell to some friends going to Berlin, the children are asleep upstairs. I'm eating a steak sandwich and my Rothaus Pils is beside me as I type.

    Ah, this is the life, visa or no.
    → 9:35 PM, Jul 24
  • Somewhere between Heidelberg and Shanghai


    I'm in a strange sort of limbo this Sunday evening. On Friday I was directed to go to China this weekend to help our colleagues who are in a bit of a technical pickle. The trouble is, I need a visa and the normal application process takes two weeks. So I'm sorting out my travel to see when I'll be able to get there.

    [googlemaps https://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&source=s_d&saddr=Shanghai,+China&daddr=Chongqing,+China&geocode=FbmJ3AEdqIo9BykzPPWxQHCyNTGhZMMjlBKVAg%3BFYIYwwEdBdlZBilDT-bzujSTNjEhs4jcFoaf3g&aq=0&oq=Chongqing&sll=29.630771,114.257813&sspn=11.979525,19.753418&hl=en&mra=prev&ie=UTF8&t=m&ll=29.630771,114.257813&spn=11.979525,19.753418&output=embed&w=425&h=350]
    There is a procedure for obtaining an express visa, but this entails heading up to the Chinese consulate, which I will do tomorrow. However, the application itself involves a paper chase that isn't yet complete.

    Currently -


    • I need evidence of health insurance (which the company should provide on Monday morning - I don't know what time).
    • I need an invitation letter (received) and a letter of urgency (not yet), plus a travel itinerary from my colleagues in China - again, hopefully that'll be waiting for me when I wake up on Monday.
    • I need my "Anmeldungbescheinigung", Registration certificates, which I couldn't find over the weekend, so I'll need to get one of those on Monday morning, too. I hope my local friendly bureaucrats don't put up too many barriers...


    ... and then there's the Consulate itself. Goodness knows how that will go...

    And then I'll be able to book my flights, without knowing precisely when I'll be back, as it looks like I'll have to visit suppliers near Shanghai and customers in Chongqing.

    It's with mixed feelings that I get to fly out to China again. In the old days before the family, it was simple. Now I'm leaving my wife to look after the kids on her own for an as yet unknown length of time; it's harder now for sure than it was back then. And the unknowns don't make things much easier right now...


    → 9:55 PM, Jul 22
  • Daydreaming and winning

    Source: Getty Images via BBC
    I'm certainly succumbing to the elation surrounding Bradley Wiggins' current lead in the Tour de France; he's looking like becoming a great winner as part of an amazing team. What sums it up for me is the photo of him slipping into a winning reverie as his colleague Chris Froome drives them both up to the mountaintop finish at Peyragude. Such daydreaming can be fatal to a sportsman's chances, but in this case, Froome woke him up again soon enough that he didn't drift off the side of a mountain or simply let the competition drift past him. Nothing is certain until it's over - but it's looking good so far!

    Allez Wiggo!
    → 11:43 AM, Jul 20
  • The Musikfreunde and me: Ravel, Grieg and co keep us together

    It’s the end of another series of concerts with the Musikfreunde Heidelberg Symphony Orchestra; one I was very close to skipping entirely. At the end of the previous concert, I’d had enough of orchestra for a while, and overall I was feeling uncomfortably stretched. Orchestra had become another stress raiser rather than reliever and I needed to give myself some breathing space for other things in life (like composing, biking and “just” family, for example). In the end (of the beginning of term), a lack of alternative trombonists meant that I stuck with MFH for this programme, too.

    Through house searches, potential job offers, overloaded drudgery at work and general family life, I managed to attend most rehearsals - and the three concerts this semester made it all worthwhile.

    We played in the Neubausaal in Schwäbisch Hall, then at a school concert in the Gymnasium in Neckargemünd and finally in our standard main venue, the Stadthalle in Heidelberg. There was something about the programme, especially the Ravel and the Grieg that reminded me of the joy to be found in music.

    The Grieg in particular is too easy to dismiss as one of the standards these days (and, judging by the audience in the Stadthalle on Saturday evening, it can still pull the crowds). However, it’s still simply wonderful music to be part of and, at the hands of a decent pianist, as we had in Randolf Stöck, it has everything: lyricism and a positive dynamism that are hard to match. Ravel’s La Valse is witty and very difficult to pull off for an amateur orchestra - I think we did a decent job of it.

    It was also rewarding for me personally to get to a relatively decent playing quality again. I didn’t feel too outgunned by the hired hand, a trombone student from the Mannheim Musikhochschule, who helped out on bass. As always, the psychology of performing is tricky to master: everybody’s pumped up and tends to play on the edge in terms of volume, losing control in the process. I certainly fall into that trap, but I am at least becoming more aware of it. As always, though, “negative” corrections are difficult: if only one person plays more quietly, he’ll still be swamped by the mass, whereas if one plays more loudly, he’ll stand out and can pull the orchestra along with him. It’s something our principal conductor, René Schuh tries to remind us of each time - we still forget.

    So, we’ll see if I end up taking a break for the winter semester instead (it’s more conducive to evenings in, anyway). There’s plenty of time to decide upon that, however, with rehearsals starting again in October. In the meantime, hopefully I’ll get some duet or trio playing in, to keep the trombone chops in half-way respectable working order…

    → 12:41 PM, Jul 16
  • Figuring auf Deutsch

    Arithmetic, from University Department of Computer Science


    Years ago, Dad bought a lovely little book called Figuring, by the arithmetical genius Shakuntala Devi.

    It's a book on the joys of numbers. According to the rather short Wikipedia article on her:

    "On June 18, 1980 she demonstrated the multiplication of two 13-digit numbers 7,686,369,774,870 x 2,465,099,745,779 picked at random by the Computer Department of Imperial College, London. She answered the question in 28 seconds. However, this time is more likely the time for dictating the answer (a 26-digit number) than the time for the mental calculation (the time of 28 seconds was quoted on her own website). Her correct answer was 18,947,668,177,995,426,462,773,730. This event is mentioned on page 26 of the 1995 Guinness Book of Records"

    I am of course light years away from such talents, but I was never really terrible at it. However, I notice more and more that I have given up on trying to work out multiplications in my head. It's not that I have become mentally lazy - well, I have, but it's not in the way that you might think.

    The problem is German numbers. They are so backwards and incoherently wrong that I have simply given up on trying to work with them.

    683 is spoken in German six hundred three and eighty. The hundreds number, 8 is easily buffered in my memory. However, I have to hold the final three in my head until I hear the tens "eight" before I can actually do anything with the number. In English, I can directly translate "six hundred and eighty-three" into 6-8-3. This has so confused me over the years that I have swallowed my pride and reach for the calculator as soon as I can.
    → 8:47 PM, Jul 11
  • A holiday refresh

    A dramatic day in Hannover

    After what seems like an age, I've been on holiday. And after what seems like an age, I am blogging here again. Loads, and and not much has happened since I last managed to post anything here; drafts started and never completed, a few posts written and published on Engineer Blogs and Canny Engineer, many thoughts thought and not brought to maturity.

    It was time to enter into the spirit of the holiday refresh; physically and emotionally to slough away the encasing skins of work and immerse myself with the family in discovering the city of Hannover, catching up with friends in Rastede and then off to the beach and onto a fishing boat in Eckernförde were great ways of getting the drudgery of work out of the system. Equally, it was good to get the kids to sleep, leave my wife ensconsced in a book, and to set myself at a keyboard to type. Most of the four thousand words and upwards were written in a holiday diary, offline. But I was able to chip away at a few online thoughts, too. Now it's time to get words out, in more or less the right order, onto the Internet.

    Most of the holiday was spent offline, which was refreshing, especially for my diary. I had no need to think about format, spelling or trying to find appropriate pictures - it was liberating, but I missed the "edge" of posting to the public, even if the public is looking elsewhere.

    So, here we go again. It's nice to be back.
    The good fishing boat Ecke 4 which we sailed on to catch plaice
    → 8:22 PM, Jul 9
  • The Long Way Round


    My cycle to work takes only eight to ten minutes. Usually I need it to be that short in order to get to work at a reasonable hour after the long pre-work rituals of getting everybody's breakfast ready, getting myself into some vague semblance of work-like shape and taking the eldest to Kindergarten.

    But sometimes the commute - to or from work - is simply too quick. Sometimes I feel the need for some sport, for some time to myself between family and colleagues, and for some rather nice scenery. In those cases I ride the long way round.

    Instead of 3 km I ride 13 km, along the Neckar to Edingen, then up into Grenzhof and through the wheat and barley fields to... Well, Eppelheim can't be described as being the nicest place on the planet, but it's still not work, and that's the main thing.

    I noticed that the scenery is nicely varied, and riding it often enough makes me realise how the seasons affect the scenery. So I now try to take a camera with me, stop riding and take some photos as I go. Here are a few, in no particular order or camera (some noticeable mobile phone shots in there, too!).



























    → 10:21 PM, Mar 4
  • The joys, the noise - and the silence - of cross-country skiing

    Stopping for a minute recently from our cross-country skiing in the middle of a snowy Black Forest and listening to the near silence - yes, really listening - was an exquisite experience that reminded me how seldom we get to enjoy the absence of noise. To me it felt strongly of the silence being a clean, fresh and eminently restful pillow for my ears and thence to my brain.


     Of course, it was but a fleeting experience and of course we were soon scraping and poking, huffing and puffing, snow-squeaking and technical clothing rustling through the forest, but those few moments of silence, interspersed with the occasional thud of snow falling off the branches and even a timid soundbite of birdsong, provided me with memories that are far more powerful than the photos could ever reproduce.



    → 10:49 PM, Feb 19
  • Mixing the senses


    There was an article in the Economist this week that strongly resonated with me. It concerned the "condition" of synaethsesia, whereby the signal from one sense is interpreted by another. The most famous example is that of seeing sound in colours. The Economist article reported a study into how people link taste with sound.

    This is something that I have long experienced. Whilst I could never claim to be a good taster, whenever I try to describe a taste, it is usually in terms of a graphic equaliser or in the choir voices - soprano, alto, tenor, bass. The research described in the Economist article ascribes particular taste sensations to types of musical sound - bitterness with the higher strings (I can agree with that on so many levels!), vanilla was most associated with the woodwinds - and brass? Well, they got musk, which I don't fully understand.

    Photo from Thara M Flickr page, Creative commons license


    Not only that, it worked the other way around too, in that sounds could affect the way people tasted things. They ran the experiment of people eating toffee with varying high or low pitched music playing in the background. Indeed, that led to different descriptions of the taste, even though it was always the same toffee variety in all cases.

    I cannot claim that there is any direct link betwen their findings and my own experiences, but it was a great feeling to see it all confirmed in print. I spoke about it with my wife that evening and found her questions personally enlightening. I had always felt that I had a very poor taste memory. I can't even imagine a Chardonnay wine "taste". Yet when she asked me about how I would describe various foods (or drink, especially this Madog's Ale I had recently) directly in terms of sound, I found it astoundingly easy to recall them (apart from water).

    So for 2012 I will try to be more active in "saving" my impressions in those terms. In particular I want to see if I can recall the wines that we'll be drinking this year, or at least the archetypes. Let's see / taste / hear how I get on...
    → 11:43 PM, Feb 6
  • Thinking is hard to do, doing makes it hard to think


    If there is one principal criticism I would have of my job at the moment, it would be that I do very little thinking at all. Everything I do at work is basically and simply "doing". I feel that I have lost the art of concentration, of battling with difficult problems, of really thinking things through.
    Photo by Karola Riegler photography Flickr

    What doesn't help at all at work is that there are too many distractions for me to work effectively. In an attempt to remedy that, I have taken to leaving the phone on its charging station, set to silent, finding an empty meeting room, keeping my email client unopened focussing on a particular task for an hour or two. It seems to work quite nicely, so I'll keep that up as far as I can (or until I get my own office). But the basic problem remains that what I am doing involves very little analytical thinking at all.

    I am positive that it a good thing to accept back some strain on the brain, something not felt since university, and that discipline. So, I when I am not just wandering about the site at work looking for meeting rooms (just wandering usually results in me thinking of a solution to a particular problem) I have taken to doing some coding.

    The wonderful Code Academy is a great starting point. It teaches JavaScript via a series of little lessons and projects that get progressively more difficult. It is also a bit trendy with those "gamification"badges and points that you can send or tweet to the world.

    I am still at the stage of learning the syntax, but already the challenges have got me thinking harder than any problem that I face at work. Clearly, the stakes are much lower than with my largely trivial but business-critical issues. But I am finding it rewarding to do, and in a way that is significantly beyond the scope of those badges.

    It remains to be seen if I can maintain the mental loads of coding alongside work, my blogging, and my music and my family, but it's just about doable at the moment, so we will see. As for when I'll barrel on into Project Euler...
    → 10:50 PM, Jan 28
  • On Engineering

    On somewhat of a spur of the moment thought over the Christmas holidays, I ended up starting a blog that will focus on my thoughts and observations on engineering; it is what I spend a fairly large amount of my time doing, after all.

    It’s here.

    Have a look in, though it’s fairly unbaked at the moment!

    → 12:07 AM, Jan 16
  • Farewell to 2011

    This isn't a deeply thought-through review of 2011, merely a list of a few personal highlights from an eventful year for the family...

    Meeting up with the family in Istanbul to celebrate Dad's birthday

    Getting married in the Heidelberg Standesamt

    Having a second daughter (with complications soon thereafter, but all coming good in the end)

    Enjoying two months' parental leave during an alas rather insipid Heidelberg summer.

    Coming along with work, particularly the methods side (drawings change system) and DFMEAs. Not travelling too much or too widely, but still experiencing a blown taxi engine in Romania, seeing a little of Naples, Genoa and Maastricht.

    Losing my passport just before Christmas.

    Seeing Saab Cars disappear.

    Enjoying a wonderfully relaxing Christmas and New Year with the family in Ipswich.

    Roll on 2012!

    → 2:54 AM, Jan 1
  • Hej då, Saab Cars



    Saab cars went into bankruptcy just before Christmas. There is tons about it on the web, so I don't really need to describe the ins and outs of the long and painful slide from being sold by GM to Spyker and "Swedish Automobile," to the rather demeaning attempts at sale to the nobody Chinese firms Pang Da and Youngman.

    I'm writing about this now because I had to pop into the local Saab dealership in Ipswich to have an engine management problem looked at. (It turns out that the turbo vacuum hose had a small hole in the side, most likely caused by a marten, the famous "Marderbiss" in German.) I had to wait a while, just over an hour, for my car to be looked at and repaired, so I had time to sit in the upstairs waiting area to read a 1987 history of Saab-Scania, and to sit in the latest and last Saab, the 9-5 Aero turbo 4.

    The book was full of hope and pride of Saab Cars, noting its original raison d'être of being an emergency occupation for thousands of Svenska Aeroplan workers who were no longer needed for aircraft manufacture in the post WWII years. It was always a bit of a side-show for SAAB the company.

    The 9-5 was rather nice and sitting in it made me feel slightly melancholy about a brand that I have always appreciated from the days of the 900 Turbo. It had all the equipment: HUD, gear-changing flaps behind the steering wheel and a nice big old turbo engine. I rather liked the styling; there were a lot of subtle details in there that set the Saab design language in a modern context. The interior was less successful (rather too black and with some rather perplexing discontinuities in there).


    One of the big problems about it all is that none of the tech really belonged to Saab. Suppliers and GM owned all the technology. Saab repackaged it nicely but no longer sufficiently uniquely. There was talk in Feb 2009 of Saab being the "Apple of the auto world", but ultimately there was nothing compelling in knowing that GM platforms were the Intel chippery inside.

    As I write this, there is talk of the bones of Saab being bought by Mahindra and Mahindra. I still doubt that they will be able to keep the Saab name, as the aircraft manufacturer would like its name back in reasonably good order. But if a car based on the 9-5 can be resurrected along with the next 9-3 and Saab can keep its engineers, then there would be a chance of it being as successful as the Indian owned Jaguar Land Rover. We shall see...



    → 7:03 PM, Dec 30
  • Pass. Partout

    I mentioned that I am home for Christmas. This means that I am at my parents' house with my own family, having made it to England without a full passport.

    After the initial assurances that my passport would be ready for me well before our travel, I eventually received an email from the lady working on my case that it emphatically would not be ready. I would have to travel up to Düsseldorf to obtain an Emergency Travel Document (ETD) from the British Consulate in person.

    Actually, I was supposed to have gone to Munich, because that’s where British citizens living in Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg are catered for (or “processed”, I suppose). But, since Heidelberg is so much closer to Düsseldorf than to the Munich mother-ship, I went there instead.

    It was an early start, but the weather was good and I made swift process along the Autobahns. Having left at around six o’clock in the morning I arrived just after nine, after battling through the Düsseldorf rush-hour traffic and finding a parking spot.

    My application was ready just after eleven, having hit a slight hitch with the payment of €113 for the pleasure via credit card (the simple form didn’t allow for any security details, nor did they ask me in person, so their charge was initially rejected by Mastercard.) However, by five past eleven, I had the receipt in my hands, only to learn that it would take an hour to produce the card and that that would therefore run into their lunchbreak, so could I return at two o’clock…

    A little bit of discussion ensured with the result that I could return at half past one, leaving me with just around two hours to kill for lunch. So I walked into town.




    I find Düsseldorf strangely appealing. It has an interesting mix of the swank and the shabby, the artistic and the heavy industry. The Rhein is naturally a key feature of the city, but they still had to make something of it, which they have done, overall successfully.

    I wouldn't mind going back, as long as it's not for anything to do with passports...
    → 10:34 PM, Dec 27
  • Delicious by design


    Back at my parents' house over Christmas, I was (watch out, this is going to get exciting) doing the washing up after my sister had made the dinner. (Just to write "pork chops" does the meal an injustice, but that's basically what it was). The item I cleaned last, because it had now rather unappetising looking bits of wet pastry on it, was the beater from our old Kenwood mixer. As I washed, I remembered how this piece of utilitarian design had always fascinated me through its complexity and simplicity.



    It is designed as a 'K', instantly bringing the branding to the forefront. Whether or not this is optimal for mixing pastry I cannot say; but it works very well, generally resulting in great cakes, so its impact on the mixing dynamics of pastry is at least not negative. Its complexity is subtle, but everywhere present. It warps in all three dimensions, combining rigorous straight elements with beautiful curves, tubes with flat and developing blades.

    Some of the joins are no longer quite so beautiful on our example, but after over twenty years of use, that can be expected. Doubtlessly the assembly process has improved significantly since then (or has been made ever cheaper), but the K-Beater design remains to this day and, even when mass production using 3D printing becomes commonplace, it will remain in the future...

    A classic.



    → 12:05 PM, Dec 26
  • St. Martin

    One of the lovliest traditions that I have come across is the Sankt-Martins-Umzug. Last night (13th Nov) I was reminded how wonderful it is with my eldest proudly parading her owl lantern through the streets of Wieblingen, down to the Kerweplatz where the Feuerwehr had installed a large bonfire and several stands were dotted around selling Bratwurst and Glühwein.

    Wieblingen Dorf was very well represented with lots of familiar faces as well as the small Blaskapelle playing the St Martin’s songs in continuous loop.

    → 2:20 PM, Nov 14
  • Sport and children - a fidgety mix

    Sport, whether played in a team or singly, is essentially a selfish pursuit. I want to get fit, I want to improve my flexibility and coordination, I want to forget work and - well, you know how it is sometimes - I want to forget the family. Lots of 'I's happen, in any case.

    Bringing up children ends up generating not a little internal tension between selfishness and selflessness, despite the best protestations of celebrities that it has finally taught them to think about others. It is also the cause of some sporting ingenuity.  For example, throwing an 8 kg baby around for a little several times a day helps to keep the upper body muscles active. Hauling two children and a child's bike in a bike trailer is good for the legs and stamina. Not just standing around in the swimming pool, but actively swimming and splashing around expends some energy. My evening rides around the block with the eldest, whilst fun, don't really count other than as chances to get some fresh air.

    Time off for a couple of hours on the mountain bike of a weekend, or an evening run, is the pinnacle of sporting activity granted to me at the moment; I a also manage to get in a late-night hour of squash per week at the moment. Despite all of this, my sports equipment is overwhelmingly static.

    And yet - when I think back to my single days, how much sports did I do at the time? Not particularly much more than I do now. Having children does seem to have concentrated the mind on what's important, for me as well as for the others. I am more aware of the worth of trying to keep things active, like writing this blog, rather than passively surfing. Getting out rather than lolling about. Making more of my time.

    (phew, that was exhausting. Time for a cup of tea, actively made.)

    Oh, and I am also sensitive enough to know that all of this is valid for my wife, too; currently stuck as the "milk bar", she's certainly got a good metabolism. But exercise? Not much - we'll make some time for her, too.
    → 2:11 PM, Nov 8
  • Morning people

    I’m not a morning person. It’ll be a recurring theme of mine, especially, I suspect, when we experience at first hand the tyranny of the German school day (starting before 8am? Pointless).

    However, I simply wanted to record here how wonderful it is when our baby daughter starts her day and ours with a great big smile at us.

    That’s it. Thanks!

    → 9:16 PM, Oct 19
  • Noise and quiet

    On Saturday we decided to cycle into town. Our three year-old (coming on four) had her new bike, our three month-old hovered in her hammock in the Chariot cycle trailer. The sun shone and we rolled into Heidelberg happy and proud.

    Then we went shopping. On a Saturday. It was of course very busy; we knew that it would be and planned for a nice hot chocolate reward in Schiller’s. In our experience it had been an oasis of calm where one could take time to enjoy a nice or unusual (sometimes both) hot chocolate and a home-made cake. Unfortunately, Schiller’s has become too popular. We were able to sit down and order, but the level of noise in there was unbearable. Our baby added to that by crying and not being able to settle for a feed. People looked at us, we looked at them. We paid for our chocolates and left as quickly as we could, not having enjoyed it at all. There was music beating in the background and conversation was stuck in a feedback loop of ever-increasing volume. Schiller’s has become a victim of its own success.


    Worse, the traffic on the way back was heavy but flowing; engine and tyre road noise accompanied us all the way back home. We did not enjoy a single minute of peace in that outing and that was stressful.

    I’ve never had the ability to deal with much noise, always preferring to step out of parties for longer than just a breath of fresh air when I was younger; but I have rarely felt so stressed by noise. I hope we find some quiet again soon.

    → 1:08 PM, Oct 17
  • Musing on Maastricht

    Yesterday I was in Maastricht for lunch. I felt no urge to blog about it; which itself is good cause for a short blog post.



    Maastricht is a lovely city, full of Dutch and European styles. It has a grown-up feel to it; calm, confident, aware of its place in the world. It has its own identity and is full of culture. Its political status is well concealed from the average tourist - there are no huge European institutions in the centre to remind the Maastricht Treaty, for example (although there are some suspicious-looking buildings further along the river).

    But I didn't particularly want to blog about it, in direct contrast to Naples. It simply didn't raise as many emotions. I certainly know where where I would prefer to live, of the two, where I could bring my family - I also know where I would prefer to visit...
    → 12:53 PM, Oct 13
  • Impressions of Napoli

    05.10.2011

    Put short, Naples could easily be described as a characature of Italy. Take for example and especially the motorcyclists on the Tangenziale; one sitting upright at the handlebars in order to have both hands free for his mobile phone, another gesticulating whilst talking into his (at least hands-free) helmet headset. The cars jockeying for position in the clogged city arteries (using my Milan driving mantra of knowing where everything is, but pretending that you don't). The wonderful weather, the port smell and the smog over the city. The sheer number of people out and about in the centre - the life - on a Tuesday evening. The wonderful dinner (fish and fruits of the sea) in an unassuming restaurant near our hotel in Pomigliano. The 'man bags' (handbags for men) and the big sunglasses. It was all there.

    From the strucutre of a typical blog, I would now normally explain here all the very good reasons why Naples isn't a characature of Italy; there simply aren't any, though. None at all.

    And that's brilliant.


    → 9:30 PM, Oct 6
  • Boarding time

    04.10.2011

    I'm in Frankfurt airport awaiting my flight to Munich and then on to Naples of which I will of course see very little, this being a business trip for meetings with Fiat tomorrow. It's a lovely day, the airport isn't too busy this lunchtime and it feels invigorating to be on the move again.

    I almost wrote 'good' there, but I can't catagorically state that it is good in itself.

    Yes, we're supporting the customer even better than can be expected (the presence of an 'expert from Germany' lends weight to our arguments) but there's nothing coming up that my Italian colleagues cannot sort out by themselves. And it'll be the first time that my wife will have to put both daughters to bed by herself - not a task to take lightly with a three year-old and a two month-old. Of course it'll all work out, but the first time is naturally the most stressful.

    In both senses, then, it's of limited virtue but it's still a bit of a nice break from office work for me. It beats work, as my Dad always used to say.

    Right, then, boarding time.

    → 9:30 PM, Oct 6
  • The wonderful world of the PPAP

    There is an intriguing little phrase I came across in a trombone technique book that hovers in a limbo between right and wrong: "It's not what you play but how you play it"

    There is a lot to be said for giving your best at all times, no matter what music you have been asked to play. It is a matter of pride, of professionalism, of maturity - of character, too. I can certainly say that I gave my best to (and received a lot back from) playing in a Shropshire brass band, even though I really do not like much of the music we played.

    However, one cannot really be expected to be able to find one's best when playing the wrong sort of music for you. The talent isn't there, the fluency goes, the "Selbstverständlichkeit" is lost. Asking a striker to play in defence can work, but, if it goes on for too long, his motivation will drop to the extent that he becomes a liability, or he will ask to leave the team.

    And so I come to PPAPs. PPAPs are the scourge of the auto industry, a chain of disinterest ending in a dark pool of valuelessness. Nominally, it is an acronym; Production Parts Approval Process. Its meaning and raison d'être lies in ensuring that each and every part that goes onto a car is tested, approved and well managed. A noble pursuit, naturally - and of course impossible to argue against. Even when every single type of screw in a vehicle has a 20 MByte PPAP file associated with it. Each car has around 30000 parts, maybe 10000 unique part numbers; so perhaps each model of car has a 200 GByte file associated with it that nobody uses. (Except when something goes wrong and the lawyers start crawling around, which is the reason for the whole PPAP escalation)

    So when I was working on managing fittings for my company, and PPAPs were a major part of this, I swiftly found myself playing the wrong sort of music. Each and every PPAP had to be exhaustively inspected; are test results all present and complete (usually not); all dimensions understood and properly measured (ditto); control plans, process flow plans, material data sheets all present...? It was very rare for a PPAP to be completed in a single sitting, so I ended up with a backlog of semi-complete, interim-approved files awaiting further information from their suppliers (who were sometimes less keen than me on getting things done properly). It was - and is - a never-ending controlling position in a company; one that requires a Kafkaesque, bureaucratic mind, a mind I categorically do not possess.

    Alas, those that do possess such minds, and (is that 'and' necessary?) the lawyers, also own the process, so that it has embedded itself deeply into its own work groove; a record that only a small clique would find cool. Similarly a shame, the process does not seem to be enough of a financial burden on each and every supplier in the industry for there to be a concerted effort to remove it, or at least streamline it.

    Every industry has its administrative and proofing methods, but few outside of the medical industry seem as fat as the auto industry's. If you're the type of person who enjoys being the controller, or can simply accept such a role, then fine. If you're not - then avoid at all costs; PPAPs and their ilk will ruin your day, every day.
    → 9:57 PM, Oct 3
  • Frog, Toad and bureaucracy

    The other night I was reading my 3 year-old a bed-time story from one of our favourite series of childrens' stories, Arnold Lobel’s “Frog and Toad” collection, when this little exchange between the two got me thinking:

    {Frog’s List has blown away in the wind}

    “Hurry!” said Frog. “We will run and catch it."
    “No!” shouted Toad. “I cannot do that.!
    “Why not?” asked Frog.
    “Because,” wailed Toad, “running after my list is not one of the things that I wrote on my list of things to do!"

    This resonates with so much of business life; procedures, workflows, instructions, audits, filling out forms. We all have lists of things to do, from our (largely ignored and occasionally conscious-pricking) task lists, to those procedures.  We need to realise that we can make the choice between “merely” following the procedures to the letter, and rehumanising them.

    Naturally, this all applies to the bureaucracy of life, too (I recently married and had a child, so I know all about filling out forms and chasing the right administrator at the right time…) but since I have been thinking has been about business life lately, that’s where the brain cells decided to resonate with interest.

    At work, I have a great collegiate friendship with a quality manager who is also a trained auditor. He is (it sounds strange to write this), a human being. By this I mean that he treats the audit procedures as a frame within which he must operate, but not as a constraint. He is a detective who understands that humans have created these constructs around them to force themselves into doing the right thing, in the sense of doing the best for the company and (by extension) the best for society in general. He also knows that humans tend to cut corners, in order to maximise leisure time. He understands that rigidly following an audit checklist is the surest way of ruining a day and of missing the real issues that a list can paper over. Yet without this list, even he is lost.

    We need to force ourselves to get things done properly. These constructs, sets of instructions, whatever we call them, that we have placed for ourselves - in business, bureaucracy, religion and in every walk of life - do not necessarily stifle or strangle creativity. They can postpone the effort of thinking to more important tasks. Yes, they take time to complete and yes, they require an effort of willpower; but no, it is often not really time or energy wasted. And if there is waste involved, then it is a business benefit to eliminate this waste.

    (If there is waste involved, then it is a religious necessity. If there is waste involved, then it is a bureaucracy…)

    With all of our lists, we must ensure that the free thinkers - the frogs - amongst us have room to breathe, to innovate, to dream; and we must ensure that the petty list-followers - the toads - do not exceed their remits or relish their “powers” excessively.

    → 11:06 PM, Sep 20
  • From home to work

    I returned to work yesterday after two months off on paternity leave following Emily’s birth in July. Those two months of wearing shorts, not trousers, T-shirts not shirts were (Emily’s virus aside) wonderful.

    Towards the end of my leave, I started thinking about and investigating the world of work again - discovering interesting buzzwords like “social enterprise” and “curation” brought up concepts that I was keen to try to implement in our office. I also checked my work emails to make sure that I wasn’t going to be overwhelmed when I got back.

    Whilst checking up on my work emails from home, I noticed a slight reaction of repulsion as soon as I saw a drawing of one of our tube products - this continued when I returned to being “live” at work, too. It’s not the greatest sign for motivation, although the holiday blues are bound to be at work. I fear my lofty ideas will not survive being dragged down to the product level, into the muck and brass of a metal-forming automotive supplier’s life; yet it is at this product level that these lofty concepts need to work, and work seamlessly. Without the product, concepts remain simply that; nebulous ideas.

    So - my challenge is to compartmentalise the day-to-day grit (quality complaints, validation testing, drawings updates) into chunks of “done” and to leave myself time, room and mental energy to devote to improving the way that we work. Whilst also giving myself some time to get back home to enjoy my family life.

    It is a battle - improving our communication, knowledge distribution and search capabilities can improve work itself - but I do feel that ‘loving’ the product would make it one battle more easily fought.

    → 10:46 PM, Sep 14
  • Repetition

    Music purists will tell you that electronic notation in general, and copy-paste in particular, is the scourge of music. Hit the Cntrl-C / Cntrl-V combinations (or their Mac equivalents) and you’ve increased the length of your piece at no extra cost. Most people would probably want to hear that riff again, anyway.

    Composers of old didn’t have software to facilitate it, so perhaps they had to invest more thought into repetition; but they could equally well pencil in the double bar lines with bracketed ends, likewise at little cost and to the same effect: play that bit again (I think it’s cool).

    Everybody has done it, from Bach (whatever his variant of ‘cool’ was) to Burt Bacharach. Used by master and novice alike, repetition is not necessarily a reflection of competence; indeed, repetition is a nearly inescapable component of music. Like most of music, though, it is incredibly difficult to do right and at the right time.

    Context is a key component in any decision to utilise repetition: a Scottish reel is impossibly dull to listen to, but dancing to a symphony never made it big as a pastime. A listener’s mood is the other component. Some evenings I can listen to Underworld in their pomp (Second Toughest in the Infants) and really delve into their soundscapes, enjoying the timelessness of each piece. At other times, I’m scrambling for alternatives within seconds.

    There are some very frustrating examples of repetition. The album “Rhythm” from Like Vibert has some great and rather inventive riffs that break the mould in terms of electronic / dance music. But he overuses them each and every time. Most annoying for me is his use of the frog trombones sample from the The Mole / Der kleine Maulwurf / Krteček in the episode with the transistor radio. This is a brilliant little effect that deserves many listens… But… 15 times in one piece is both excessive and leads to depreciation. The album is strewn with excessive repetitions.

    I cannot do repetition. When creating my electronic pieces, copy-paste is the foundation of their construction. However, I quickly feel the need for development - however small - in order to maintain my own interest; variations on a theme. I also tend to generate larger leaps in each piece that then try to find their way back home.


    There is always an element of musical development (exposition - transition - development - retransition - recapitulation) in my pieces, even as I stray from whatever theory or initial idea I had during the actual creation process.

    Electronic notation opens up composing to dilettantes like me who cannot quite envision or 'hear' the music that they want to create before it is played. This is a great thing for hobbyists the world over. Whilst it may open up the composing game to a greater number of players, the sheer fact and necessity of quality rising to the top still applies. Let me and my ilk paddle about in our pools; let's see which great monsters of composition today inhabit the oceans now.
    → 10:24 PM, Aug 2
  • Caffeine

    Caffeine doesn't taste of anything. Extracted, it's a tasteless, dull white powder that has some resale value for caffeine pills and caffeinated drinks thanks to its stimulant properties. In other words, it doesn't add anything to the taste of coffee. As everything else in this world, it is a chemical, one that can be analysed and understood - and can therefore be targeted by other chemicals or processes for removal from its carrier.


    The most interesting carrier of caffeine is, of course, coffee. Whilst tea is a culturally vital plant that also contains caffeine (roughly half the quantity of coffee when comparing the the drinks), coffee has a deeper culture of drinking for stimulation of the body rather than of conversation. Decaffeination, whether by carbon filter or using solvents such as methylene chloride or ethyl acetate (the latter of which exists in fruits such as apples and pears, leading some marketers to refer to a "natural" decaffeination process), requires initial processing of the green beans to enable the caffeine to be extracted. This is usually done by steaming, but can also involve compressed CO2. Whatever the case, the bean fibres are broken open for "attack." Beans are also re-steamed to remove any remaining solvents and are then roasted. These preparation and finishing processes lead to weaknesses in the bean structure that lead to sensitivity to the roasting process.

    As far as I can understand, the somewhat underwhelming taste of most decaf coffees is a result of there being a higher likelihood of individual beans within a particular roasting batch becoming over-roasted and imparting a burnt, unfulfilling taste to the blend. For this reason, decaf coffees tend to be light to mild roasts that naturally cannot give the "bang" that a high roast can.

    Whilst coffee decaffeination is still an imperfect art, it is very much a luxury for many that would be denied those who cannot or should not consume caffeine.

    All of this is a prelude to me voicing my intense annoyance at the fact that the small coffee stall in the Heidelberg Kinderklinik doesn't sell decaffeinated coffee at all. Yes, those young mothers looking after their breastfeeding children are denied this one crucial luxury that allows them to escape the hospital environment, no matter how briefly, with an intense taste experience that is all too often denied them during their stay there.

    As a postlude, it will be interesting to see how genetically selected (see how awful that appears these days? But how else do we get our most beautiful flowers or treasured dogs?) caffeine-free beans work out, commonly known as decaffito.
    → 9:05 PM, Jul 24
  • Learning to love Dvorak in Heidelberg

    I play trombone with the Musikfreunde Symphony orchestra in Heidelberg. We rehearse and perform along the university semester cycle, which leads to some intense periods of music; a welcome insight into the world of the musician, without having to be one.

    This semester we have been working on Dvorak's 9th Symphony, "From the New World", alongside Mussorgsky's "Night on Bare Mountain" and Bruch's Violin Concerto (no use putting any numbers there; he doesn't seem to have written anything else worth performing). We recently had a rehearsal weekend, immersing ourselves in music, and our first two concerts, successfully dispatched in Langenselbold (no, I had no idea, either) and Freiburg. Tomorrow night is our final, crowning concert in the Heidelberg Stadthalle.

    I want to write a little bit about the Dvorak. For me, it's easy to dismiss - it's popular, for a start, which always makes me suspicious - and even as I tried to disregard its popularity, the piece never seemed to have anything of interest to say to me. It has its famous tunes and that's it; a pretty face with not much behind it. However, sitting at the back of the orchestra alongside the other trombonists and the poor tuba (who only has 14 notes to play in the whole piece), I have been learning to appreciate the piece, certainly to admire it, possibly, at times, conditionally, to love it.

    That word 'learning' implies a process and indeed it took a while for me to feel at all involved in the piece during rehearsals, even though there's enough for the trombones to play (except in the third movement, where the trombones are inexplicably tacet - perhaps Anton didn't trust us to be sufficiently fleet of foot; or perhaps he simply didn't trust us to successfully find all of those repeats).

    How could I not be involved in a piece that I am playing? It's a good question and the answer has two components - the physical / technical aspect of playing, and the emotional.

    Physically, of course I was involved. There are several themes that the trombones play and - more difficult - lots of stabs to hit successfully. I was working on my technique, getting the breathing right, tweaking the tuning, trying to listen in to my colleagues to make sure we were playing as a section. Oh - and of course trying to play the right notes most of the time.

    Through all of this, I didn't really have time to experience the piece. It had some tunes and some trombones.

    Emotionally, we didn't connect for a long time, the piece and I. Maybe it was the overall lack of dissonance in the overall outlook, the almost saccharine positivity in the piece that discouraged me from investigating further. I certainly identified more strongly with the Kabalewsky and the Roussel that we played in previous winter concerts. Whilst the Dvorak certainly contains many little clashing details embedded throughout the piece to give it that certain frisson every piece of music needs, the overall impression was of musical platitudes that have become somewhat cliched.

    Historically, Dvorak wrote the piece during a three year long sojourn in America (1892-1895), where he encountered and revelled in its musical and natural diversity. He was inspired to write a classical symphony that whilst not specifically including American elements, certainly painted a picture of a voyage, wide open plains, dance and returns to source. There is a human element in there that is American-tinged, leading to the critics' and theorists discussions about the nature of the songs - American or slavic.

    Dvorak himself denied the presence of any American idiom in the piece, but I feel it does bubble forth with a visitor's joie de vivre. The perennial problem with incorporating traditional songs of whichever background is that those songs were meant to be sung, those rhythms danced to, not stuffed into a symphonic wad of cotton.

    The significance of Dvorak's sojourn in New York stems from his assertion that the Americans should really develop their own classical language. The Americans we're hungry for confirmation of their place in the world, Europeans were thirsty for impressions of this New World, so its success was guaranteed and justified.

    So - after that slight interlude, how did I begin to appreciate the piece? The interesting devil is in the details. Burrow underneath the tunes and you will find so much activity going on behind the scenes. The scherzo third movement in particular has so much going on. There are rhythms that rejoice in syncopation, there are for me unfathomable chords (the shimmering echoes between strings and woodwind are wonderful), there is a spark of excitement that is not lost in the repeats. It was in not playing that I could 'shut up and listen'.

    As with people, so with music; give yourself some time to get beyond the superficial and you will find much to admire. Such listening is hard work, and requires practice. I currently do not listen to nearly enough classical music, mostly, I suspect, because I do not train myself to do so, nor grant myself the time to do so. Time to try again, I think!

    So - do I really love the Dvorak? Actually, no. But I can admire it and that's a step foreward.

    ps, boredom in music is of course not an uncommon problem, but the reasons behind what makes a piece dull are still remarkably difficult to describe.
    → 1:00 PM, Jul 8
  • My Marathon

    A few days ago I took part in my third BASF Firmencup at the Hockenheim Ring. It was my best so far, 25'29 for the 4.8 km track, a two minute improvement over last time, yet leaves me with an obvious goal for next year, to beat 25 minutes.

    Where does that stand in relation to the best runners? Well, the best in our group ran it in 19 minutes, and he was 200th or so. I was 2500th, give or take, and there were around 12000 participants, so I didn't do too badly. I definitely felt fitter than the previous two times, and I had more energy.

    Energy was the biggest realisation from 2010. That year I had trained reasonably well, but I made the mistake of eating nothing other than an energy bar from lunchtime. This year I ate well at lunchtime, but kept munching at various intervals (I was at work, it being a Wednesday). I also made sure that I was well stocked for the bike ride from Heidelberg Pfaffengrund, where I work, to the Hockenheim Ring.

    2011 was also my first "race" with the Terra Plana Evo "barefoot" running shoes. These have transformed my running. From clomping around in chunky Asics via Nike Free to the Evos, my feet have become steadily lighter and more flexible. My achilles tendon did receive a hard workout that points to potential for improvement, but basically I am a convert to barefoot running, landing on the front to middle of the foot rather than on the heel.

    Naturally, I received a few comments about them, but mostly interested ones rather than snide.

    Since that run, I have felt freed up to get back onto my various bikes, but the warm feeling of good intent is there, the thought in the back of my mind that a half marathon would be on the cards. But can I devote sufficient time to running rather than music or biking? That remains to be seen.
    → 8:55 PM, Jun 12
  • Energy considerations

    My stance on energy is an open one: I am for a mix of available technologies.


    • Oil will remain a key component of transportation energy for years to come
    • Coal should be wound down (very slowly)
    • Gas and shale gas are interesting agents for energy balancing
    • Nuclear should be the key base energy driver
    • Renewables should be part of the mix but should nor cannot become dominant sources
    • Local energy (on houses or in communities) are interesting distractions from the energy requirements of whole countries
    • Efficiency drives are necessary (and result in fascinating technological challenges in themselves) but should not return us to the dark ages
    I will come back to each of these as I develop my own knowledge base. My key sources of information are the now classic Sustainable Energy Without the Hot Air by Prof David MacKay and Prof Barry Brook's Brave New Climate blog, which was a key resource for me in becalming the media panic that surrounded the Fukushima Dai-ichi crisis.
    → 6:20 PM, Jun 3
  • I wish...(trombone version)

    I wish...

    somebody had taught me how to breath much earlier; how important the body is to playing; that the lips are the gateway to the trombone, but that the work is done much earlier; how important the mind is to playing; how important relaxation is to playing; that the instrument should be brought up to my posture, not the other way around.

    These things I now realise and know intellectually, but they are not innate.

    Does it matter? Well, I am where I am with orchestra, and I don't necessarily need to be at a higher level... But I do dream of it sometimes. We can all dream.

    → 3:21 PM, Jun 2
  • Blogging from a mobile phone

    Blogging is an art form. Examples abound of it being produced spectacularly well and spectacularly badly; as with all other art forms, it requires a certain discipline with quality control.

    So, with me swyping this entry on a mobile phone, can I do justice to the artistic endeavour? Surprisingly, yes. Whilst it is more difficult to see the overall picture or flow of what is being written, and more care is required for the input itself, if I can take time and care over it, saving it, re-reading it, tweaking it, then there is no reason for this document to end up qualitatively different to a blog written with a fountain pen and paper.

    I don't subscribe to the view that the care required for input amplifies the care taken in pre-selecting the word about to be written. Much more important is having the time available to concentrate on the content and avoiding distractions; even better than merely time is multiple times.

    The factor that most limits blog entries such this on my Motorola Defy is fatigue. It a strain on the eyes to focus on such a small screen, it's a strain on the wrists holding the phone in such a way as to facilitate tapping or swyping, and on the shoulder. So in the end, this entry may end up being shorter than a version tapped out on a keyboard - but that is not necessarily a bad thing.

    And so ends this entry, if not the experiment.
    → 1:10 PM, May 16
  • A relevant poem

    I came across this poem whilst researching for Diversions Manifold (research meaning the desparate search for inspiration for the name).

    But yield who will to their separation,
    My object in living is to unite
    My avocation and my vocation
    As my two eyes make one in sight.
    Only where love and need are one,
    And the work is play for mortal stakes,
    Is the deed ever really done
    For heaven and the future´s sakes.
    —Robert Frost, Two Tramps in Mud Time, st. 9

    → 10:15 PM, May 15
  • An Introduction

     I to do too many things without devoting sufficient time to any one of them to become particularly good at it. Business, engineering, playing trombone, biking, singing, being a Dad, being a husband - and now blogging. So why should I harbour this conceit of publishing my thoughts? And why should you want to read them?

    The answer to the first is fairly clear - I want to force myself to think again, something that I have not truly done since university. Egotistically, I want to push the results of these thoughts onto the web in order to force myself to find the right words, and to get as close as I can to a truth, however limited.

    To the second question - why should you read this - I hope you have the answer. My hope is that some of what I write strikes a chord of recognition, a feeling of “Mitmensch” - being related in this form of humanity - and that it creates a little frisson of expectation that more is to come. Perhaps we share some interesting thoughts, perhaps we’re poles apart.

    What I write should be well considered; I don’t want to waste any of our time as, I know all too well, it is spread far too thinly. What little we have should taste, sound or feel good.

    Finally, I view it as a short history of who I am in an intellectual sense. If they are interested, maybe at least my daughters will browse through this blog (if it still exists) in the future to find out what complexities drive or at the time drove their otherwise boring old Dad.

    → 10:06 PM, May 15
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