Wednesday 30 June 2010
Sunday 20 June 2010
Baidarkas
Moving has had an effect on me similar to that which the reduction in the use of weed killers and pesticides had on the Kent countryside about twenty years ago. I've woken up and long dormant seeds are germinating, and old tunes are being played again. I've long admired the baidarka, and had an unpublished post on the subject waiting here for some time, though I deleted it, and it is delightful to see that kinngusaqattaarneq has posted again.
I'd trust elegance and obvious fitness for function over 'style' always, without eschewing appropriate adornment.
This picture of a strip baidarka was taken from kinngusaqattaarneq:
as was this:
The latter image shows the product of George Dyson's brain. Look him up, he's an interesting fellow.
I'd trust elegance and obvious fitness for function over 'style' always, without eschewing appropriate adornment.
This picture of a strip baidarka was taken from kinngusaqattaarneq:
as was this:
The latter image shows the product of George Dyson's brain. Look him up, he's an interesting fellow.
Saturday 19 June 2010
Deja Vu
Believe it or not, I sketched something very similar to the Suzuki Biplane about twenty five to thirty years ago, although my concept used hub-centre steering at the front and a combination wheel mounting / drive / suspension mounted directly to the gearbox at the rear, doing away with shafts, belts or chains and stays.
I cannot recall which of my disastrous career choices was the worst.
Friday 18 June 2010
A Nice Day
I spent the day in the garden and my cuttings pile is halfway towards worth hiring a chipper. I've hacked down quite a bit of foliage and associated woody stuff. A black mark for B & Q, whose representative broke the promise explicitly given on a sticky label attached to one of their products guaranteeing a full refund were I not completely satisfied, which, given that the product broke less than twenty four hours after purchase, I was not, but a satisfying day none the less. I tidied up here and there, clipped the Wisteria wandering in from next-door, refixed the telephone line outside the house, refilled the compost bin, etc. etc. etc. and thoroughly enjoyed myself. The day was made even more enjoyable by the crew of the RAF VC10 that flew low level circuits from lunch until teatime. What a beautiful aeroplane.
I'll be even happier when I've replanted my aquarium and sorted out some stylish lighting for The Mrs Gruff's nano aquarium.
Lunch was a smoked ham sandwich with a pear and watercress salad and dinner was fish and chips eaten off my lap, outside and as the sun went down.
I once saw a sticker in the rear window of a car saying 'it's a nice day, watch some bastard spoil it'. The bastard at B & Q, who was actually a rat faced little bitch, tried but failed.
I'll be even happier when I've replanted my aquarium and sorted out some stylish lighting for The Mrs Gruff's nano aquarium.
Lunch was a smoked ham sandwich with a pear and watercress salad and dinner was fish and chips eaten off my lap, outside and as the sun went down.
I once saw a sticker in the rear window of a car saying 'it's a nice day, watch some bastard spoil it'. The bastard at B & Q, who was actually a rat faced little bitch, tried but failed.
Monday 7 June 2010
The Vickers VC10
The Mrs Gruff and I have very recently moved to a new address, which is close to Warton Aerodrome and lies almost under its flight path. All sorts of things fly in and out of there and as I type an RAF VC10 is making low level circuits. It's distinctive (and 'distinguished'), relatively quiet and extremely elegant; in every way a very English aeroplane. The sight and sound of it evoke memories of seeing the BOAC Cunard VC10s on the apron at Heathrow in the mid sixties and every pass raises goose pimples and sends a shiver down my spine, even my hair stands on end. A schoolboy thrill I'm not at all embarrassed to admit to.
I have several memories of London airport from that decade, the first of which is of watching the BOAC Bristol Britannia carrying my father back from Trinidad land, in about 1960/1, before the Queen Elizabeth terminal was built. Only a line of portable barriers separated the public from the runway but in those days nothing else was necessary. At about that period he took me with him to collect an item from the cargo sheds on the far side of the airport. It was night-time, although probably not late, and I can still clearly recall seeing a brightly lit, strangely curving green house seemingly perched in the air somewhere ahead and above me. At that time I had not seen a Boeing Stratofreighter and the sight was very much a wonder.
With friends and relatives in various parts of the world, my father was often at London Airport and I always looked forward to going there. A sign over the entrance to the road tunnel under the apron announced 'Welcome To Britain' and in those days one could be proud to welcome people to a land that was still of some account in the world, was a decent place in which to live and had not been made into a doss house for the scum of the Earth in which no crime is so awful that one might be asked to leave.
It's delightful to see an aircraft almost as old as myself still giving good service, unlike myself, but I cannot help thinking that like myself and the Britain I was once proud to live in, it is very much a thing of the past.
There's a link to a web-site devoted to the TSR2 in my blogroll. Somewhere in the tangle of faulty memory, heresay, sloppy journalism, misinformation, corrupted accounts, spiteful diaries, shredded documents, secrecy rules, outright lies, misleading autobiographies, dust, worms, concealed truths and unheard voices lies an illuminating doctoral thesis on the decline of the 'British' aircraft industry. Someone, someday, will write it.
I have several memories of London airport from that decade, the first of which is of watching the BOAC Bristol Britannia carrying my father back from Trinidad land, in about 1960/1, before the Queen Elizabeth terminal was built. Only a line of portable barriers separated the public from the runway but in those days nothing else was necessary. At about that period he took me with him to collect an item from the cargo sheds on the far side of the airport. It was night-time, although probably not late, and I can still clearly recall seeing a brightly lit, strangely curving green house seemingly perched in the air somewhere ahead and above me. At that time I had not seen a Boeing Stratofreighter and the sight was very much a wonder.
With friends and relatives in various parts of the world, my father was often at London Airport and I always looked forward to going there. A sign over the entrance to the road tunnel under the apron announced 'Welcome To Britain' and in those days one could be proud to welcome people to a land that was still of some account in the world, was a decent place in which to live and had not been made into a doss house for the scum of the Earth in which no crime is so awful that one might be asked to leave.
It's delightful to see an aircraft almost as old as myself still giving good service, unlike myself, but I cannot help thinking that like myself and the Britain I was once proud to live in, it is very much a thing of the past.
There's a link to a web-site devoted to the TSR2 in my blogroll. Somewhere in the tangle of faulty memory, heresay, sloppy journalism, misinformation, corrupted accounts, spiteful diaries, shredded documents, secrecy rules, outright lies, misleading autobiographies, dust, worms, concealed truths and unheard voices lies an illuminating doctoral thesis on the decline of the 'British' aircraft industry. Someone, someday, will write it.
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