Water everywhere and not a drop to drink.

With all the talk of water shortages, hosepipe bans and drought orders, you’d be forgiven for overlooking all the water we do have. There is lots of water in East London, you just have to know where to look. Oh, and I really wouldn’t advise trying to drink any of it.

There are many streams and rivers running though London, Diamond Geezer has already posted on one of the lost rivers, the fleet. In a new series of irregular posts I’m going to write more about the streams and rivers in my area, starting with one partially lost stream. The Wantz stream.

Local Elections

Well, that was an interesting sociological experiment. Now can we please have 11 different councillors that:

a) Have some kind of clue.
b) Don’t wish to get suspended from the council for ‘telling the truth’. [1]
c) Will not quit after a few months because they didn’t realise a) was a prerequisite.

As pointed out to me elsewhere [2], in the first article, Nick Griffin says “this is a revolt against the entire liberal political elite”.

Umm, this would be the same liberal political elite that are responsible for the ID card bill and the Regulatory Reform Bill? The BNP aims to be less liberal than that?

[1] Quote I heard on the news this morning but a unable to find online.
[2] By donbert on LJ.

Happiness is a warm gun hot soldering iron.

Things are getting along quite well in the new lab. Large pieces of aluminium have been turned into small pieces of aluminium (and a lot of swarf), spectrometers have been upgraded and calibrated, and I’ve just finished building some constant current regulators for low currents.

The current regulators don’t work how I thought they should, but they seem to work nontheless. I should try and work out what is or isn’t happening, so I have some idea why things are not how I planned them.

Quark

I first saw this poem on a poster as part of the Poems on the Underground project run by London Underground. I only saw it once, and could only remember a couple of lines – making it hard to search for.

This morning I suddenly remembered much more of the poem and so was able to find it online. Yay!

Quark by Jo Shapcott

‘Trancendental,’ said the technician, ‘to stumble on a quark that talks back. I will become a mystagogue, initiate punters into the wonders of it for cash.’

‘Bollocks’, said the Quark, from its aluminium nacelle. ‘I don’t need no dodgy crypto-human strategising my future. Gonna downsize under the cocoplum or champak, drink blue marimbas into the sunset, and play with speaking quarklike while I beflower the passing gravitons.’

Bound and Submitting

If a title like that doesn’t bring the hits in, nothing will.

The Thesis, my Magnum opus, is now finished, bound up and submitted. And I’ve just spotted a couple of typos in it. Bugger. Nothing severe like my last thesis, where I got the year wrong on the very first page. I didn’t spot that until 20 min before the viva.

After the viva and corrections I’ll stick a copy online for anyone that really wants to read about lasers making things go bang[1]