[This is written for my daughter Trinity, and my mother Katrina]
“Lady Ada – these cucumber sandwiches are a delight!”
Ada looked at her earnestly, and then became thoughtful. “Thanks you Miss Penny. How is the new job treating you? Surely you like working as a com-putaire?”
“Miss Lovelace I don’t mean to seem ungrateful. I am very thankful for this opportunity. But I trust, with you I can speak plainly. Oh it is drudgery! “
“But you’re out of the accounting office, you get to work using your brain – and get to use the mathematics you had worked so hard to master. “
“Something is wrong with this Age, Miss Lovelace. Everyone seems to be working 14 hour days or more, at jobs that destroy our souls. “
“Surely making great books of logarithmic tables, that help our glorious empire span the globe, surely that is a noble cause worth labouring for?”
“Oh you don’t see Miss Lovelace, the books have tens of thousands of logarithmic entries, each one taking an age to calculate. Then they complain they’re full of mistakes. So we have to check and re-check every one.”
“Oh dear, Miss Penny..“
“Miss Lovelace, after that they want copies for every ship, and so we are copying them over and over, and someone must check those for mistakes. It is such a frustrating task.”
“Well Mister Babbage is working on a steam-tabulator. When he gets it working – it will churn out logarithmic tables by the dozen! He calls it – The Difference Engine!”
“But that will just put us out of a job!”
“I see what you mean.“
Ada paused for a moment.
“I will speak to Lord Byron about it. He may have some ideas.”
As I step outside a sporty Mercedes pulls onto the curb in front of me. Another engine revs in the distance. A BMW pulls into view, driven at speed, the engine working hard.
Women in Burkhas step into a supermarket. Men in white hats and white skirts queue outside a Mediterranean coffee shop selling pastries. The end of Ramadan.
I pause and have a sausage roll. Inside it has a German wurst-style sausage and a line of tomato-puree baked into the puffed pastry.
Cambridge has a population of 124,000 and with surrounding suburbs probably even greater. It will take 30 minutes to walk across the town to where I’m headed. It puts the spin on the word “university” as a group of separate teaching colleges gathered around the same area.
On my way walking , find an avenue ringing with birdsong.
Then I come to a cemetery overgrown with brambles.
Further I come to a path near the railway and then to a mall car park, having a carpet store, baby perambulation, a Subway and M&S. In the M&S there is aisle called “Boxed Chocolate and Picnic”.
At the Cambridge Computer History Museum I am welcomed by a 16 processor on the wall made from scratch from transistors. Designed for education and inspiration, it gently rebukes me for more bringing my own hex program to run. It offers to play Tetris on a large matrix of normal size LCDs. (More photos at the link).
The museum invites me into a stylised 1970s office.
Then into a stylised 1980s computer classroom.
One theme is people solving the problem in front of them with the tools available. Lots of incremental improvements, but many bunched up close together. A few giants stand out. The museum wants to celebrate Sinclair and ARM as being the companies close to home.
The museum notes that the British computer industry minimised to an extent in the late 1980s and a lot of the value chain moved to software. The value of computer engineers was able to be channelled into companies like ARM holdings. There was much convergence in hardware.
Museums are a funny mix of old bits organised into displays, nostalgia, a celebration that something significant happened and education, all constrained by the funding available.
A ponder for a moment whether it helps people move forward and look to the future by looking at the past. I see a glorious past and amazing possibilities for the future but I wonder what others would see. There is so much here and too much to write about now. I’ll put most of the photos in the link.
Off to the Whipple Museum for science. A 40 min walk.
Whipple was a successful instrument-maker with a big personal collection donated in 1944 – which has been running as a museum for 80 years. It celebrates the theme of measurement in science, ie that better measurement lead to better models and understanding. (Acknowledging the role of calculation as well.)
It had an scanning electron microscope similar to the one Watson and Crick used for mapping DNA.
The museum also acknowledged the history and role of globes in mapping the earth, the heavens and other planets.
Walking back, I walked past more bakeries. The baking scene here is truly next level.
I walk back through a magnificent park.
I buy a small treat for afternoon tea and later dinner dessert. It has a layer of chocolate cake, a layer of coffee cream, a layer of regular cream, and a layer of burnt caramel on top, sprinkled with chocolate shavings on the sides.
In the morning, as we walk along the back lane, steam puffs out of bathroom vents in the chill air and a black cat perches on an old stone wall.
Wooden toys on the kerb indicate market day.
As we sit down to breakfast the barista catches my eye, “w’ ar’ y’ trinkin’ sar?” with a Dublin accent that could just as easily say “tap’ o’ th’ marning t’ ye”.
I chat to Dad about ways to fix his computer. Conversation turns to updating his business website.
Morning walk through the Saturday markets, second hand book stalls, tie dye tshirts and toys.
A town cryer calls out, public meeting times for local community groups.
A street band kicks up a jaunty tune.
Dad takes me back to Crewkerne station.
A train flies back to Waterloo at what feels like speeds comfortably over 100km/h. (I’m told this line can hit 160km/h.) This driver is not holding back.
On the Underground at Russell Square the intercom announces a fire at Kings Cross prevents the train from stopping there. Everyone on the train shrugs and gets off. The only option is to walk 800m to the next station. At this point I’m glad I brought at suitcase with wheels.
Halfway to Kings Cross we see a big group of suitcase-walkers coming the other way.
The mix of accents on the train include: loose-tongue London, northern Toff, received English, some Birmingham and some Novocastrian.
It’s difficult to describe an analogue for Cambridge Station – Redfern perhaps – but not really. It is big in scale, and yet small in intimacy.
Coming into Cambridge station and walking out in to the main street, it shouts “we’re here to solve concrete problems and do business.”
The younger 20s people here are completely multicultural, but I get a sense that the teaching staff are largely English. There are all nations of undergraduates in the Chinese restaurants, young couples pushing prams, and the pubs seem filled with 30s+ Anglo people.
I drag my suitcase down small streets of two story houses with pubs, Afghan restaurants, pretend Coop supermarkets that sell Aldi goods, noodle houses.
Scene: Admiral Hawke leaves the Admiralty and storms up the hill towards the Greenwich observatory with Lieutenants on either side. The buttons on his shoulders shine in the sun. His pudgy face runs with sweat from climbing the hill.
Scene: The door of the Observatory slams open. Inside the room we see a silver line marked on the floor on one side of the letters A.M. on the other side of the letters P.M.
Admiral Hawke: What the hell are we paying you fancy astronomers for?
Astronomer Bradley: [Smiles and looks up from his work, and adjusts his wig. ] Pray tell me, what bothers you Admiral?
Admiral Hawke: [Piggy brown eyes fix on the astronomer.] Two ships! Two ships sunk in the spice Islands. Two ships that sunk that could’ve been saved if we’d had better navigation! That’s what we’re paying you boys for isn’t it?
Astronomer Bradley: [Stands tall, picks up his walking cane and twiddles his wig from side to side on his head.] Tell me Admiral, do you know the Meridian waltz?
Admiral Hawke: what the devil are you talking about, man?
Astronomer Bradley: [Moves to stand directly on the silver line.] It goes like this…. Anti-Meridian!
Astronomer Bradley : [Sweeps his left foot over the silver line to land on the left side] …Post Meridian!
Astronomer Bradley: [Sweeps his right foot over the silver line to land on the right side] And, close together, step. Let’s do it again!
Anti Meridian, post Meridian, close together, step!
Admiral Hawke: But, we’re to talk about the ships!
Astronomer Bradley: anti Meridian, post Meridian, close together, step!
[The feet of the two lieutenants start tapping in time.]
Astronomer Bradley: Anti Meridian, post Meridian, close together, step!
Admiral Hawke: [Self-righteous] Good God man, do you want to keep your job or not?
Astronomer Bradley: [Pauses, and straightens himself] So you’re here to talk about the ships in the Spice Islands?
Admiral Hawke: [Frustrated] Yes, yes, the navigation…
Astronomer Bradley [sweeps his hand towards the view out the window]: Do you see those ships docked down at the Admiralty?
Astronomer Bradley: [Softly] Do you remember when you were a ship’s boy on one of those ships, learning navigation from the captain?
Admiral Hawke: [Dreamy] Wonderful days they were.
Astronomer Bradley: And what did you do to navigate back then?
Admiral Hawke: [Remembering – staring off into the distance] Well we got the sextant and measured the height of the sun – then we did the trigonometry to work out where we were using logarithms.
Astronomer Bradley: [Excited] That’s it Admiral! You’ve got it!
Admiral Hawke: [Confused] Got what?
Astronomer Bradley: [Confident] Logarithms!
Admiral Hawke: [Confused] What?
Astronomer Bradley: [pumping his fists in a circular motion like a locomotive] Sing it with me! Logarithms! Logarithms! Logarithms!
[The two Lieutenants start pumping their fists in in a circular motion. ]
Admiral Hawke: [puzzled] But they were never accurate enough…
Astronomer Bradley: [Confident. Answering the Admiral] Then with more decimal places, we’ll make them accurate!
Lieutenants: [Singing background – pumping their arms] Logarithms! Logarithms! Logarithms!
Admiral Hawke: [Doubtful] But you’d need a great book for that. The size of an encyclopaedia.
Astronomer Bradley: [Confident – Answering the Admiral ] Then that’s what we’ll do! Lieutenants: [Singing background – pumping their arms] Logarithms! Logarithms!
Lieutenants: [Form a line and march, goose-stepping around the room. ]
[Singing each word drawn out – stepping up pitch on each word] Logarithms! Logarithms!
Astronomer Bradley: [Singing the call] What’s it called?
Lieutenants: [Put the hands in the air and flutter their wrists]
[Singing response] Logarithms!
Astronomer Bradley: [Singing call] One more time!
Lieutenants: [Singing response – up a note] Logarithms!
Admiral Hawke: [puzzled] But who will we get to calculate these vast books of logarithms?
[The two Lieutenants freeze in mid-step, one knee still in the air. Their eyes boggle. ]
Admiral Hawke: [Thinking] It would be hours and months of work.
[The two Lieutenants, still frozen mid-step, slowly shake their heads.]
[Astronomer Bradley looks down, sighs and pouts. ]
Admiral Hawke: [excited] I know! We’ll use women! Vast armies of women!
[The astronomer closes one eye and rolls the other upward. ]
Admiral Hawke: [Inspired ]We need a fancy Latin name for then. We’ll call them a com-putare!
The morning is a crisp 9 degrees. I like the freshness and absence of humidity which clogs the brain.
Over the morning cup of tea we talk about trains. There is confusion about ticketing due to the proliferation of train companies, different websites and companies incentivised to hide the best ticket prices. And then the tracks owned by another company further confusing the commercial incentives and adding a layer of indirect costs.
Dad observed that the trains had originally been privately owned, then government owned, now privatised. Dad wonders if it is time for them to be nationalised again. It’s a contrast to Sydney that has always seen government ownership of trains.
Over the dog walk the conversation goes to council plots and waiting lists for garden allotments. Apparently you get the allotment taken off you if you don’t look after it. We walk with nothing to rush to, just needing to be.
Trixie proves she is not an alpha dog by refusing to walk unless there is something walking in front of her.
As we sit down for breakfast Jamiroqaui’s “This corner of the earth” comes on. The lyrics feel perfect.
The music changes to Gerry Rafferty’s Baker Street. The saxophone matches the mood.
Part of the wall of Dads building is 400 years old, another part 200 years old. The council controls what sort of wood design they can put in to replace a window that needs maintenance.
An afternoon walk over the stream.
(It seems like the local school uniform is remarkably close to Hogwarts – featuring brown pants and a yellow striped tie. )
Walked to the local brewery, then a community orchard. It preserved 50 types of Apple trees.
Further on found me tramping uphill along rights of way past holly bushes and paddock gates.
Walking past a painting of King Charles II (not King Charles III) hiding from insurgents wanting his head, and looking at bricks that weathered the smoke of the Industrial Revolution – it makes the current US Government issues seem like a blip in time.
I walk through a stile to get to a walking track by the river.
I come to a council allotment garden setup.
Walking back I find a swing hanging from a tree by the river. The tree looks like it was once host to a family of squirrels.
After dinner, we went down the road and listened to some jazz.
[This is written for my daughter Trinity, and my mother Katrina.]
The room is filled with the shining brass of telecopes, and the shining silver of clocks. Through a large window the masts of many ships are visible, and over the trees of the park, the buildings and ships of the Admiralty can be seen. A silver line runs down the middle of the room.
The door opens. A man walks in carrying a large hat, marking him a Naval Captain.
“Cookie! It’s so good to see you!”
“Bradley, I’ll have you know it’s been Captain for quite a while now.”
Both men laugh.
“How about, you just call me James.”
“Chief Astronomer eh? Bradley this place is looking good! I saw junior astronomers updating log tables and polishing telescopes as I walked in. You’ve got this place really humming!”
Bradley sighed.
“Yes, we keep it ship-shape, but the Admiralty wants more and more every year.”
James smiled.
“Tell me James. When you look through that ‘scope, do the planets still dance for you?”
James looks him in the eye for a moment.
“With all my heart.”
“Bradley I have a new mission coming up. I’m sailing to New Zealand to measure the transit of Venus. We get to see how big the dance floor really is!”
Bradley looked into the distance for a moment visualising the scene.
Bradley then looked at James with one eyebrow raised, “What then James?”
“And then we sail off the edge of the map!”
“James, you know what sailors say when you reach the edge of the map!”
James grinned. “Time for a new map!”
Both men laugh.
“The problem is longitude. All our calculations of longitude are a guess with sextants and these unreliable clocks. You can’t make good maps of North-South coasts with a guess.”
Bradley puts his hands on a shining brass and silver clock.
“Do you see this Cookie?”
James puts his head on the side and squints.
“This is the greatest chronometer ever made. And you shall take it with you on your travels. And your maps of North South coasts will be so great, they will last for hundreds of years. Think of it James! Your name will be on them! They’ll call you a discoverer!“
“Oh pshaw! No one will believe that.”
“A warning to you Bradley. The Admiral got word of two ships that sunk off the Spice Islands. They’re calling it a navigation failure.”
The two men exchange a look.
“You’re going to have to put on a real song and dance if you want to keep this fancy job.”
Bradley smiles, a glint comes in his eye.
“Take this clock with you James. Godspeed for your travels.”
The morning dog walk proceeds without a care in the world. There is no reason to rush here as we wander lanes and avenues. Birdsong and the cry of land-seagulls provide a backdrop. We say hello to other dog-walkers and stroll back along the main street.
Breakfast bacon rolls. The place originally banned dogs, but was in danger of going out of business. The community considered it mean- spirited, and came back when they changed the policy.
Walk back – I see sales of window-daffodil-bulbs for Mother’s Day. Whilst this would be amazing at home, it seems strange here, where daffodils grow wild like daisies.
We pass a community theatre down the road from Dad’s place. It looks like there is lots on.
We pass the time talking about home projects, and Dad describes mechanism he has built to wind kite handles for his kids kits business.
As we walk to lunch people ask about the dog. It is the key to relationship here.
A Blooming Cherry tree celebrates the spring.
In the afternoon we Dad about another community project Dad is part of – organising a hat festival. It seems that everyone does their bit here to build a sense of community.
I stroll through second hand book shops.
Hyacinths mark the entrance to a Garden Chapel.
Dinner with more friends from the street. We talk about Cricket and Rugby and Dogs.
On a visit to my Dad he showed me his custom rig for winding kite handles at scale for craft kits – driven by Arduino. (Arduino Every). The connection to the display counter board is I2C wire protocol.
A potentiometer is used to control speed. This is on the power line to the motor – not connected digitally.
The logic board reads a button to start and stop the device. This is connected on the I/O pins to the arduino.
The arduino logic board triggers a scooter motor which drives the toothed belts connected to the axles.
The axles hold cardboard kite handles held in with pad folder clips.
There is a second mechanism to oscillate the string guides to spread the string evenly across the handle. This stops bunching and slipping of the string off the handle.
There is an axle tab with an optical detector board with source LED and detector that looks at the reflection off the shaft. The tab is covered with black from a texta.
There is an input button for setting the desired number of meters.
The Ardiuno system outputs the desired number of meters on the display.
After the start button is pressed, the Ardiuno system counts the number of rotations from the optical sensor, does a ratio calculation to meters wound, and stops after the desired number of metres.
The output display shows winding progress. (The strobing/refresh of the display has caught the larger meter count in mid-refresh.)
After completion the handle is removed from the clip and is nearly ready for shipping.
This is the overall System.
This is the system running.
Scale This has the capacity to do about 120-130 handles per hour.
Engineering Iterations and Reflections:
This logic board is the first attempt, different to the second board shown further above. On the first attempt, power glitches on the first attempt. The logic board at the top of the post has added capacitors to solve coupling problems.
One of the issues encountered on early software development iterations was that the system would miss the exact matching target length and keep going even if the target length had been exceeded.
This is Dad’s workshop. It is reminiscent of the place where he taught me to solder, and to reason about electrical systems.
“It is wrong Isaac! The title of your book is wrong!”
“What are you talking about Halley? This book will rock the world!”
“That’s just it Isaac. We’re living in an incredible age. And we must respect its shape. We must help those who come after us, build, to craft wonderful things in this age we are given!”
“Oh rubbish! Principia Mathematica? It’s glorious! The great foundations of Mathematical Principles! This will shape our world for hundreds of years.”
“What would Leonardo say Newton? Where is the Art? Where is the dancing?
“It’s in the book! The planets dance gloriously! And this book shows how to make the mathemtics join the dance of the planets! To make the maths do the bend and sway of light!”
“The title doesn’t say that Isaac. The title says only one side of Leonardo’s Age.”
“Who ever heard of a person judging a book by its cover?”
“It will be your legacy Newton! They will say you took Leonardo’s world and bent it to one side! They will blame you for taking the dancing and art out of our age!”
“Anyone who truly reads it will understand! They will see the Maths join the dance of the planets! They will see the Maths do the bend and sway of light like a butterfly.”
(A painting of Newton in 1805 around 1805).
A statue of Isaac Newton outside the British Library. Notice the cross-marks in his shoulders and head matching Leonardo’s Vetruvian Man.
[This is written for my daughter Trinity, and my mother Katrina]
“They don’t like it! They don’t like the dancing!”
“Calm down Galileo. Focus on what is important.”
“I can’t be silent Giovanni. They won’t make me!”
“Galileo, come back to earth. Now tell me. Are your bills paid?”
“Mostly. I have a teaching job from the University where I teach the sons of the Councillors and merchants how to calculate how far a projectile will fly from a catapult. Good for leading military jobs.”
“And your family Galileo?”
“Oh, not so great. I can’t afford the dowry for my daughter. She will not marry well. ”
“Have you got a plan for that Galileo?”
“Oh I don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to put her into a convent.”
“You can do better than that Galileo.”
“I know, but it’s the gravity of the situation Giovanni. Gravity, you see.”
“I’m afraid I’ve missed you.”
“When we shoot a projectile from a catapult, and it flies back to earth, it is the same thing that makes the moon appear in the night sky. Gravity!”
“What has that got to do with anything Galileo?”
“The dance of the moons Giovanni.”
“The moons? There is only one moon!”
“Oh rubbish! Even the Ancient Romans could see that Mars had two moons. And I can see the moons of Jupiter as well!”
“What have moons of Jupiter got to do with anything?
“It is the dance Giovanni! It is an orbital dance. The main dancer is the sun. Then Mars and Jupiter and our Earth dance around the sun, then the moons dance around the planets. A glorious orbital dance!”
“Shhh! Quiet Galileo. You can’t say such things! You’ll get into more trouble!”
“Oh pooh! Whoever heard of a church disapproving of dancing!”
“It’s a new age Giovanni! Just like Leonardo’s Vetruvian man. Of art and science going hand in hand!”
“I beg you Galileo. Play the game. Pay the bills. Teach the students. Get your daughter married off.”
“They want us not to freely reason Giovanni. They want to control what we say!”
“They don’t care what you think and say Galileo, as long as you don’t undermine them.”
“We can measure it Giovanni. We can see it in the telescopes. But they want us to say the sun and planets dance around the Earth!”
