Unexpected item in the scanning area

Usual apologetic comment about lack of posting much of any sense: I had a busy week last
week and this week is unlikely to get any better. More on that anon.

But my grumble today is on QR codes. You know, the black-and-white squares which are proliferating like teenage sexual diseases. Everyone who wants to seem 'on trend' is plastering them wherever they can. I had a wedding invitation with one on. Yes.

And what are they, essentially? A web shortcut. The are essentially just a visually cyphered html link. Which is odd because I have seen them on websites to direct you to another page or site.

QR stands for 'quick response'. The codes are supposed to be quick, convenient, secure and funky.

But, in fact, they fail on each of those.

They aren't actually that quick. By the time you have gotten the camera or barcode scanner working on your phone and it has properly identified the web url you could easily have tapped in a website address into your browser.

And they aren't that convenient either. You have to have a copy of the leaflet or magazine with the code on, and your cameraphone. Not great if you are in a mobile 'not-spot': you can't get it. You can't get it on your laptop when you get home or get to work. You end up cluttering up the pavement and looking like a pillock taking a photo of a phonebox when in reality you are trying to scan the code on the advertising wrap which has been half peeled by a cheeky scamp or enthusiastic phone-box-cleaner or has simply gotten dirty or some unwanted chewinggum attached to it.

And that makes them insecure too. If you have the chewinggum problem with a web address you can normally guess what it is covering, fill in the blanks. With a QR code if there is something missing, you have no idea what it could be. You don't even know that it is the correct code directing you to the correct site: there are already reports of people 'slamming' codes, either physically replacing one on the promotional material, or technologically redirecting. Yes, web URLs are not infallable, and many misspellings have resulting frustrating, embarrassing and plain offensive stumblings. And the lack of spaces has led to some sites having unintentional consequences. Just ask the owners of whorepresents.com which should be telling you who represents someone but in fact looks like the presentations of a whore.

And let's be fair: they aren't funky any more. A few years ago they might have been, but with their ubiquitous occurance leads to a lack of novelty. They are now perfectly normal. Nothing to see here.

Are they going to die off? Probably not. Rather than replacing web addresses, they will offer an alternative route, supporting rather than supplanting; adding to, rather than replacing cluttering rather than cutting down information. And in these days when there is so much information around, we need to be selective about what information we take on.

A woman in black ... ish.

I went to the cinema this weekend to watch the new release of The Woman In Black. I had made a particular effort to ensure that I had read the book before watching the film.

Well, we were supposed to watch it last week, but my friends apparently came down with a bug. Or a hangover as it is conventionally known. I received the book on Monday and had dispatched it by the end of Wednesday, ready for the Friday. But then had to wait a week. And even then it was slightly disappointing: whilst I was expecting a full Friday night out, my friends decided they were going home straight away, abandonning me to the ravages of the local nightlife on my own. Fortunately I have a considerable number of other friends who I ran into who provided me with a lovely occasion. I do thank goodness for those friends, but can't help but think that they only ever see me when I am abandonned.

Anyhow. The Woman In Black. The film is quite considerably different to the book.

I wonder whether reading the original first is the right thing to do. I spent a lot of the film contrasting, critiquing and contradicting the book. Whereas had I done it the other way round I may have been much happier - I would have just have accepted the film as good; but on reading the original, merely smiled and said 'so that is what should have been done' and it would not have so greatly affected my enjoyment of the film.

But I hadn't done that.

And so I sat, being irritated, grated, and plain affronted by the deviations, embelishments, and plain wanton detractions. But each time the film diverted from the written text I asked myself why.

Afterall, the director or scriptwriter must surely have made a conscious decision to aver from what is written? And there were some decisions that, purely on cinematic and literary licence can be accepted - that the book doesn't specifically state how something must happen, just that it happens, and so the director can make a decision that it is shot from this way or that, or lit in any particular manner, or accompanied by any particular manner of music.

And there was quite a bit of that. Whilst in the book, the presence of the woman in silent, insipid, almost insignificant. It was so subtle. Yes, she is there, she exists, but almost without announcement - purely as an incedental, accidental glimpse out of the corner of the eye. Whereas the film starts in such a manner, suddenly she becomes a full character - someone who demands attention, either by being more than simply supplementary, or being directly affective. Whilst the book has her as a silent, unsettling attendant, the film has her screaming full shot into the camera on occasions. It loses the subtlty of a psychologically heightening thriller for a far more overtly shocking moment of a shlock horror film.

So maybe in future I should watch the film (or remake) and then the original. Or maybe things would be reversed, and I would spend my time watching the original thinking  "why did they change that..."

To be or not to be... an individual.

If you've seen Monty Python And The Life Of Brian you will know of one of the funniest moments in the film is when Brian tells the crowd:

"You're all individuals"

and one replies

"I'm not!"

Obviously thereby invidividualising himself.

But these days there is a constant conflict between individualisation - personalisation - and standardisation. And, moreover, the greater then encouragement there is towards standardisation, the greater the risk of that being wasted.

Take, for example, my Android smartphone. I can download whatever apps I chose - personalise each of them so that my shopping list truly is mine; customise my homescreens to fulfil my needs: one with my internet seach and internet shortcuts; one for audio and video; one for news and weather; one for contacts and contactability; one for 'office' things; and one for games. And it is all customisable; but so long as it is standardised: each app has to fit the grid, the icon and button being a 1x1 space, and a widget is allowed to be any size up to 4x4.

But then I sent my phone off to be repaired and all of this was gone.

I had to download each app again. I had to reconfigure each homescreen again. And it was irritating. Not just plain irritating, actually, but really quite aggravating. I had downloaded pretty much everything that I could think that I had before, and yet there were gaps - spaces missing where previously there had been an app or a widget and I couldn't think what should be there.

And again, with my home computers. I'm a Windows user so I tweak Windows to how I want it. I obviously put up a wallpaper (well, except on my netbook because Windows has decided that with Windows 7 basic, you're not allowed to do that). Then I setup my own personal network; download the programs that I use. Mess things around - move the toolbar to the side so that I can fit more tabs down it. And I know Windows is a bit schizophrenic with this: it wants you to be able to personalise things when it wants you to; but it comes pre-installed with Office (free only for 60 days, then you're hooked) and it's own media player and browser. And again, they are as personalised as they will let you personalise them.

But then I had to send off my laptop to be fixed (it's been a bad couple of months; but also it's been part of the Brand-New-Year Brand-New-Me that I actually do something about things going wrong; rather than just cope) and now I have to repersonalise them. I have to rename my computer; my profile; my network; restyle my desktop; reinstall OpenOffice, Winamp, Firefox, Flash, BBC iPlayer etc. And then repersonalise those - reposition all my toolbars in Firefox, reset my homepage and bookmarks, reinstall my add-ons. Then repersonalise those personlisations: set the required settings for the add-ons; re-allow permissions to NoScript etc.. And this is before it gets to copying my own files back over from the storage.

It is, in the true Yorkshire term, an unhappy medium.

But maybe this is something the Cloud may sort. A lot of people are wary of the Cloud because they see it as losing control of their own files, but really they shouldn't be. The cloud is your own hard-drive; but on the internet. And more secure. So you can access you files from anywhere. Firefox has set-up a system where you can create an account and it will save your bookmarks so that whenever you use Firefox - whether at home, work or on your netbook or smartphone you will be able to access the same bookmarks.

But that's it. That's where it is limited.

And yet they encourage us to personalise: Firefox itself prides itself on it's personalisationability - it's add-ons or extentions. And yet these are things which are excluded from the security of the cloud back-up, because they attach to the installed program, rather than your account. And again, it is those particular personalisations that make the machine 'yours'. How frequently have you sat down at someone else's computer and had to scour the desktop for the shortcut; get used to the mouse on the 'wrong' side of the computer, even just get used to a different font on their word processor or email program. I do it myself almost so that people can't use my computer when I'm away - they would hate to.

We are encouraged to discover, to develop, to personalise, to be individuals; and yet they make it so difficult for us to restore our individuality. When I got my phone back, I honestly wondered whether it was worthwhile even trying to install the apps again.

I keep my phone for around 2 years. It's not that dissimilar with home computers when you think about it: when you upgrade your harddrive or full computer every 5 years or so; and are forced by Microsoft or some other organisation to upgrade your operating system or software package because they simply won't support the old ones; you hardly have half a second to scratch your arse before they have changed something which you have personalised in some way.

And I know I myself am being contradictory about all of this. Afterall I have just gone through a huge nesting/collecting/tidying procedure which has resulted in me changing the majority of my utilities, facilities and banking, not on a whim or a fancy, but because they needed changing. But again, that is me individualising me, albeit it through a range of standard products offered by national institutions.

Now, standardisation is lovely.

Standardisation means that I can email a document to someone else who can see it, exactly as I created it. It allows me to move music from my computer to my mp3 player or my smartphone. And when I was doing my photowall project and I found myself getting annoyed with photo sizes. Some would be longer, some fatter. There didn't seem to be a standard 3:4 or 9:16. I had used 4 different cameras over my time so had at leasat 4 different sizes. And the non-standardisation didn't work, regardless of the non-conformist style of the project.

So yes, I love standardisation when I want it, and I love customisation when I want it. But I want customisation to be protectable, securable, uninvasive. But I need standardisation to be standardised for a purpose, not "just because". If I am being stripped of my individuability, I need there to be reason for that.

So yes, I may still conform to standards. I may still be 99.9% human in the same way as everyone else is, with arms, face, blood and suchlike... but I am me, no matter how much any faceless organisation doesn't wish me to be me. Or wishes me to be me.

Well, until I get reset

More local news

So, I'm sure you're desperate to know the latest...

The biggest shake-up to hit the police force in many years, with the election of Commissioners is due to occur.

According to a tiny 6 column inch report tucked away inside the cover of page two.

The main lead, covering most of page one and some of page three is regarding a pharmacy which accicdetally got a decimal point in the wrong place, giving someone 5% rather than 0.5% leading to a non-fatal, temporarily uglier looking kid than normal.

Needless to say, I have cancelled my subscription.

Brand new year, Brand new me

I know I don't make new year resolutions, but as I said, this year I've been inspired for a new start. Daft things like I said. So here they are:
New toothbrush
New toothpaste
New soap
New hairgel
New razor (since replaced, obviously)
New bedsheets
New pyjamas
New matress topper (though this was a Christmas present)
New washing up liquid
New sponge
New dish drainer
New layout it the kitchen (well, changed as much as I am able to until I can move fridge, sink and oven; the 'Holy Trinity' as they are known.)
New pegs
No washing or ironing (though obviously some has since accumulated)
New mayonnaise
New tartar sauce,
New jam,
New pickle. In fact whole new policy with regard to the fridge to ensure it isn't cluttered with jars of things never used.
Changed electric and gas supplier
Changed telephone and broadband provider (currently leaving me without broadband and at the mercies of the mobile app)
Changed bank
Changed credit card provider
New way to walk to the train station
New way to walk back from the train station
New way to walk into town
No new job yet, but apllications submitted and continuing.
New weekly routine, including nights to concentrate on job applications, DIY, projects and house-jobs (the notion of washing up daily soon lapsed).
A new nightly routine ensuring jobs are finished by 10:30pm then bathing (showering is reserved - despite the magnificence of the powershower and cubicle - to occasions where I don't have time to bath, either because of the lateness or the ensuing rush), to then do some work on one of my projects for an hour to then go to bed, read and hopefullly turn out the light before midnight.
Booze reduced.
Exercise though not specifically included in the BNY-BNM ethos, and aside from the suspension due to the operation, is still going well, and will go better once the brand new swimming pool opens in a few weeks.
And this is all the 'actual' changes, regardless of my any change of mental figurmentation

In other news...

So, it's Valentine's day.

I've just had my meal for one and am about to go hard at it in the spare room getting hot and steamy. Scrubbing the old paint off the ceiling.

But let us, for a moment, remember what those loving couples are celebrating today:

The St Valentine's Day Massacre.

There. That's better.

Just a quick update on the local news story. It was back in the local paper again today... Page three, just under the dramatic pictures of a car on fire in which nobody got hurt.

There was a protest at the library yesterday. Mothers turned up to protest about being banned from breast-feeding. This is despite them not actually being banned from breast-feeding: the council has said (since the beginning) that it "is investigating the matter and that it fully supports breast-feeding".

Three mothers.

That's one hell of a protest.

Either end of the coin

So, a wee while ago I was sleeping with a psychology student. Psychology is about as close to my heart as I was to his arse. So we got along quite well.

One of the games we would play was "Why do you think that is?" Where we would be chatting away about our life, and at any time one or other of us would ask 'why do you think that is?' throwing down the gauntlet to the other to come up with some feasible, psychological reason for whatever incident was being discussed.
Only, my abilities were underestimated. Not only could I come up with a reason, but I could come up with two. And not just two; but two diametrically opposed arguments.

Take, for example, this: he said "I need to be in a relationship. I can't do single"

I know. I've discussed "those" types before.

But argument number one is that he was an only child. As an only child he was showered with love, affection and attention. So much so, in fact, that when he moved away to university he needed a replacement for that love. He distracted himself from his loss, his sudden isolation and loneliness with a substitution: he substituted the love of his parents, that relationship with another. A crutch to replace what was missing and to occupy the time and space previously filled to keep him out of trouble or morbidity. Displacement or distraction or replacement.

Or...

He came from a very large family. He felt underappreciated, insignificant, overlooked. He desired to be loved like other people, became jealous of it. The more siblings he had, the more dilute the attention he got, the stronger his desire for more attention. And so, on being released into the world, he found people willing to give him that attention for little or no sacrifice on his part. Envy.

This is just a brief demonstration not just of how subjective such assessments can be, of the caution to be exercised before rushing into an assessment, but of my ability to see and argue either side of a dispute, regardless of whether the point which I end up fighting for is the one with which I agree.

And that is why, on the more discursive posts on here I explore all the arguments, validly arguing all sides without necessarily drawing conclusions or even necessarily opining. I'm not, after all, the Daily Mail.

Thank goodness.

Local no-ws

Just a brief one about the local rag.

Whilst I was off I got doorstepped into taking a subscription to the local newspaper at a heavily subsidised rate. In fairness, the main pursuasion was  that they had jobs pages twice a week.

The local paper ran front page today with a story about how an ambulance took 55 minutes to attend a person having an asthma attack. Having myself waited 2 hours for a 999 ambulance to turn up for me at the GP surgery, I can understand all sides. Yes, it's rather annoying just sitting there, knowing that the ambulance may turn up at any minute. For a hundred and twenty minutes. But the calls are prioritised. Head and heart come first, other things come after. Yes, it's unfortunate, but had the urgency of the situation been made clear, a higher priority may have been given. But even then, we don't know what other crews were doing. Resources may well already have been stretched or fully exhausted - there may have been a major accident involving many ambulances. And if not, what should have happened? The ambulance start to treat a low priority patient, and then abandon them? The alternative is to suggest the paramedics are lazy, which is far, far from the truth.

But the second lead was about a woman who had been asked to stop breast-feeding in the local library. And the post was up in arms about it. There was a huge picture, a double page spread, a vox-pop, an opinion piece and everything.

Is this a news story? Is this really the second most important thing to happen in my city?

Presumably this was a decent, unbiased piece of reporting? No. The opinion piece was from a maternity group spokesperson. She started off her very blatantly biased diatribe with a "There is nothing more natural than feeding a child when it's hungry" rant. There was a very brief, token inclusion of an apology from the council, but the only 'balance' view was from a single vox-pop participant (outweighed by a couple of other pro-boobers; though we have no idea how many people the post actually asked, or how they selected and edited anyone).

Now, I am absolutely, whole-heartedly in favour of breast-feeding children. It is by far and away the healthiest thing to do. It is the single most nutritious feed a baby can have, combining all the energy and minerals the body needs with essential antibodies from the mother. I would much rather see a mother wop her boob out than grab a bottle.

But there is a time and a place for everything.

So, the woman from that maternity group starts with "there is nothing more natural..." Well, quite. But then there is nothing more natural than me needing to eat. I wouldn't be able to do that in a library. And yes, I may be able to exercise more control over myself than the baby can; but the mother can exercise more control over herself than just flopping it out - she can get somewhere more appropriate. There may be nothing more natural than being hungry and wanting to be fed; but again there is nothing more natural than needing the toilet. If I were to go to the toilet just anywhere I wanted in the library, people would have problems. And this is why society has made adjustments - yes the baby may go to the toilet whenever it wants; but we don't have to watch it be changed - there is a disabled toilet with baby-changing unit for that.

And those rooms are absolutely perfect for feeding baby too. Not only do they prevent everyone else having to look at a woman's breast which would - but for the baby - ordinarily get them classed as a pervert or the woman as grossly indecent; but - moreover and mostly - they provide a nice, calm, quiet place where mum can spend as long as she needs to with baby; where they won't be disturbed and where baby can just drop off to sleep whenever.Yes it may be the best solution for me and it saves embarrassment for the staff, but it is by far and away the best solution for both mother and baby.

But the main problem I have is the weight and the bias that the local newspaper has given it. In other (tiny) news was a student found with serious head injuries; people being charged with firebombing a police station; a masked raid on a pub along with a few good news stories. Yes, it may have been a slow news day, but was this really story number two?

The local newspaper has an agenda. You can tell with every single story which way they (personally, the reporters and editor) lean with regard to the new tram extention; the shopping centre planning applications and such like. Someone else said it about the Independent: it isn't a newspaper; it's a viewspaper.

And the 'jobs' pages yesterday? The Post proudly splashed across its masthead that it had 8 pages of jobs yesterday. The jobs pages were an 8 page pull-out. Now, credit where it's due, the 8 pages were actually 8 sheets - 16 pages - though quite how they managed to cock-up their own page numbering I will never know. But, half of the front page was lost to the mast-head, banner and other 'self-promo' stuff. Then within around 2 pages were lost to promotion of the Post's own job fair.Yes there were a lot of other big job adverts, but I have no problem with half-page adverts for jobs because the advertisers are paying for them - if you want your job to stand out, you pay for it to happen. But there were around a further two pages of 'advice' on how to jazz up your c.v., prepare for interview etc. Advice which presumably they print in every job suppliment because it is still relevant? And then lots and lots of little patchwork adverts for their job service, presumable just to fill space in the pages that still hadn't been bought. There was around 50% of the space actually dedicated to external jobs.

It's no surprise that local newspapers are struggling if this is the type of thing that they produce. I probably took a hell of a lot more interest in the local entertainment guide in the paper than I did in any 'news'. But then Nottingham has it's own fantastically amazing local culture guide in the Left Lion such that I wouldn't need to rely on the local rag. And I think that's a shame.

Losing control

So, I finished one of the projects I started whilst off.

As with ever with me these things are rarely absolutely 'complete', but it's in a good state where everyone else will accept that it is finished, and I can return to fiddle with it in due course once other more prioritous matters have been addressed.

And I'm happy with it. It is an art installation. Well, I think it is art, and therefore it is . What I did was sit down with my laptop and scour through my many many photos, select a few hundred, print them off and stick them on the wall that rises with the staircase.

My pictures, my wall, my project, my installation, my art. All my own work.

Obviously I had the computer 'size' the photos according to my direction. I told it whether I wanted 2, 4 or 9 pictures per sheet and it did the rest to ensure they were all the same size. Well, sort of.

Oh, and I selected black-and-white printing. Well, it's art, isn't it. Whilst colour would have looked lovely and bright, it could have looked a mess and confusing. And whereas black and white compromises the colour element it accentuates the contrast. But mostly with it all being black and white it makes it all the more striking.

With black and white, though, you can't just click black-and-white and be done. Each photo needs adjusting. Those very, very grey scenes often need the brightness toning down and the contrast increasing to pick out the differences in the immense amount of grey. Whereas with those that are very starkly black or white, they can often require the opposite so that delecate nuances can be picked out and don't get over-powered.

So I tinkered with the brightness and contrast ratios, and the white and black points (the points where a very light grey becomes a white or dark grey becomes a black).

But they are my photos, obviously.

Just like the ones from New York which formed my Christmas cards for the family a year ago. I took some lovely photos, cropped them down, resized them appropriated, greyscaled them and then overlaid a colour picking out certain aspects of the photos...

Lovely. And mine.

But I didn't actually recolour the photo. It took half a dozen clicks and a few hertz of processing power. And a hell of a lot of skill by the software manufacturer.

But I had still taken the photo, still made the decision to make the adjustments. So, does the photo-journalist lose any credit where the editor makes the decision to crop the image, or to print it black and white?

A few years ago there was a bit of a storm in a teacup regarding some Reuters photo-journalists who had digitally manipulated their images, adding people into scenarios where they weren't; reducing the real distances between people and conflicts or merging two scenes to enhance the dramatic effect. They weren't accused of losing control over their own images, but of misleading the audience. But they had still taken both of the photos which they had merged, they made the decision, so they retained ownership in both the originals and the composite.

And it will obviously be clear that where someone scours the internet and stumbles across a photo of me on holiday and puts Brad Pitt's head on my body, they have no ownership of my photo. But, despite having taken neither of the photos, they would almost certainly have ownership of the composite. Useless ownership: they wouldn't be able to exploit it without the permission of myself and whoever took Brad Pitts's photo, but they have made the creative decision to put them together.

And it's a lazy creativity. They have expended no skill or effort, over a couple of clicks or so. Certainly not the same skill as someone who were to find my image on the net and paint a portrait of me from it.

But where do we 'lose' our ownership? At what point does ownership pass to the software or some other party? I will go into a full "Copyright and Moral Rights" legal definition at some time in the future. However in the meantime consider...

There was a bit of a furore a year or so again when Facebook changed some of its terms whic seemed to suggest they were trying to take control of your photographs. They weren't, that was never the intention. But what they do have control of is the servers upon which your photos are stored, and control over the software that you use to view the images. So if you fall out with them and you can't get to your images, how much control over them do you really have?

And take, for example, my photos from Brighton last year. The vast majority of them were taken by me, so are mine. Then there was one very kindly emailed to me by a chao who thought that half-a-dozen santa clauses on their way to the beach on the hottest day in June was rather amusing. That was clearly his: his camera, his snapshot, his. But in the grey area is the photo which I asked an unknown lady to take for us. I gave her my camera, we posed, she took the photo and gave me the camera, containing the image, back. On a technical basis, she is the one who did the point and click. She could have elected to zoom in, to adjust the aperture, to ask us to arrange ourselves differently, to apply any settings she chose, and therefore technically she probably 'owns' the image. This is despite the fact she could barely find the 'big silver button on the top' to actually take the photo.

She owns my image and I barely even know her name.

How to say no

So I've been looking for another job for a little while now. There are a number of reasons behind, but mostly due to the lack of opportunity for me where I am.

So it may suprise to find that I turned down an interview that was supposed to happen today. Why?

Well, ordinarily I would always jump at an interview even where I am a little wary of the firm: you never kniw, they may convince me to join, they may actually be better than they seem, and it's usually at least worth a look.

So, why was it not even worth a look this time? Surely a change is as good as a rest? Surely a move with any sort of prospect is better than my current lack of opportunity?

And it really did take a lot for me to talk myself out of the interview.

But I was wary of the new job. In my previous role I was working for a firm with 6 partners and 20 qualified fee earners. The previous firm was smaller than that with 5 partners and around 12 other fee-earners. The prospect firm was to be smaller still: 5 partners, and 3 others. A real step back. And unless my prospects within the firm were going to be amazing, outside the firm they would have been just as limited as they were currently. Future prospects would have wondered why I went for a firm so tiny.

And I've been stung by small firms too. It doesn't take much of a change in the economy and therefore the income of a firm for them to make cuts. Having been made redundant from a previous role because the drop-off needed cuts, and I was the only fee-earner in a department of two partners and me they were not going to lose a partner.

So my transition would have been precarious and my motive perhaps not quite preposterous, but questionable.

But what about the actual job, the actual work? Well, again this was a bit of a concern. They were one of these firms that try to have a toe in every rockpool. My previous firms have been like this, but with many more people to be able to specialise in the areas properly. In order to offer as many sevices as they claimed, each partner or fee earner would have to offer at least three different areas. And it doesn't take much for clients to get too big for the firm and move on. And in my particular area of speciality, the information suggested it was very much 'scratch-the-surface', basics. Nothing to particularly stretch me. But maybe I could have done that myself, made the role my own and provided the firm with additional 'functionality', an addition revenue stream.

But, for the start at least, it was absolute basics.

And then there was the distance. Whilst at the moment I am looking anywhere for a job and willing to commute or relocate, it was just too far for a 'patch-up' solution to my short-term dead-ending. Had the town been one where I could have move to another firm quickly or at least easily, then I would have considered it, but the town was so close to London that that would have been the next step. Not worth moving and settling to be consitently on the watch for the next move. Had the job been in Manchester, Leeds or Birmingham or such like with other, bigger firms around that would have been more accessible after the move then I would have considered it.

And that was another factor: the town was small. If I am to relocate it is going to be to somewhere fun, not some sleepy back-water. The town very much has small-town mentality when it comes to socialising, and that would have frustrated me, particularly when 'just a couple of years' (which is what I would have been looking for with the job) takes me dangerously close to my mid-thirties, and retirement from excitement.

So, was it not even worth the interview? Ordinarily I would have gone along for a poke around. What harm can it do? Well, on this occasion the harm equated to £80 and a half-day holiday. Eighty pounds is a lot to spend when I am so wary. Usually the half-day would be neither here nor there, but this year, with my trip-of-a-lifetime coming up, even half-days are at a premium; particularly where I may have to have other interviews.

And so, with some considerable reluctance I turned it down.

But I'm sure there will be another opportunity.

Hopefully.

Fantastic February

And so we have reached February.

Well, we reached February on Wednesday for those of you that haven't been paying attention.

But this is the turnaround month. This is the month that the days start getting lighter. Already of an evening it is almost still light as I leave the office. It's amazing. It makes so much of a difference. By the end of the month we'll not be far off the greatest rate of change of daylight hours, where the sun sets almost three minutes later each day.

And people are starting to feel happier financially. They've had their hermit January where they haven't seen anyone or spent money they don't have after Christmas. If anything, having been cooped up so long - and quite possibly abstaining from the booze as well - they are so cabin-feverish they are actually quite desperate to get out of the house.

And with February being the shortest month as well (though this year is a leap year so we have an extra day to deal with), the money is even easier. It does make me wonder why the abstainers (who all moan about it on Facebook not so much as you can feel their pain, but more because they want to feel rather pious about it) don't abstain for February in substitution as it is only ordinarily 4 weeks (and therefore four weekends) long. Presumably they have Valentines to wine and dine.

And then there's the weather. Whilst historically February is the coldest month of the year - and this weekend we are expecting the first really heavy snow of the season - by the end of the month you can feel the change, particularly with the change in daylight. It'll not be that long before I can start sorting the greenhouse out and starting sewing my seed. I can't wait!

And finally, for me at least there are now fewer than 10 weeks before my great adventure. I'm off down South. Down VERY South: New Zealand via Honk Kong and back via San Fransisco to bring a friend home. At the beginning of January, though only a few weeks ago, it still felt like the quarter of the year that it was. Now it feels like the only-just-over two months that it is. Semantics are beautiful

Happy February

Just a quick flash

So, yesterday I discussed about the films that I watched to keep myself entertained. I have also made passing references to my 'non-physical' projects. At any one time I have many projects on the go, mostly to do with house, home or garden, but some other administrative tasks - sorting and tidying various things, writing things, and other such occupations to prevent me getting into trouble.One of the new projects which I embarked upon over my time off was a bit of a sort out of my digital photo collections; and printing out quite a number of them. in doing this I found that I have take around 22,000 photos since getting my first digital camera around 10 years ago.

That's correct.

TWENTY TWO THOUSAND.

Do you remember when you used to go on holiday and get given a single roll of film? You had 24 photos (probably actually 27 because you used to be able to squeeze some extras out at the end) to last you for two weeks. And to make matters worse you had actually no idea if the photos had come out properly until you had waited the agonising five days that it took to get developed (my dad wasn't going to pay the couple of quid extra to get them done within a day let alone an hour). And what then? Well, if there was a smudge on the lens, or a finger in front, you didn't have a picture (or you got one with an advisory label saying 'there appears to be something between the lens and the picture - try moving your finger in future') and would either just have slowly dimming memories of the holiday, else having to return to the same spot at some other time to take that magical moment. Again.

When digital cameras were invented there were shrieks from artists and photographers. This was putting into the hands of ordinary people valuable technology. It was making their livelihood redundant and they were getting protectionist about it. Anybody but anybody would be able to take photos. Hundreds of photos would exist - thousands - maybe even, say, twenty two thousand. With so many photos proliferating and circulating, how would they ever stand out? Worse still, the medium was disposable. People would be taking all of these photos, and yet never printing them out, never sharing them, never doing anything with them to enjoy them.

Indeed this was the argument used by Kodak when, in 1975, their employee Steven Sasson designed the first digital camera. They were worried about film and paper and that no-one would want their products. Ironically they propelled the Brownie box camera into the hands of the public with the counter-intuition to their digital decision: the ability to get the product, the camera, into the hands of as many people as possible was absolutely necessary. The hardware v. consumables argument has been one that has abounded since patents first were issued, essentially protecting the hardware inventions; whilst limiting the ability of the developers to extort their customers for replacement consumables that 'must match' or 'must fit' whereas obviously the economics for developer are to recoup their research and development either through higher initial prices, or discounting (perhaps even subsidising) the hardware and recouping through consumables.

But the professional photographers were being elitist, stuffy and - for creatives - surprisingly uninventive. Quite, these thousands and thousands of photographs may be taken by the untrained amateur; but there would still be a world for the professional photographer. They just needed to find their niche - tell people what it was about their photos that was unique.

The main worries were, essentially, that they would struggle to find a market to sell - people would simply take their own photos and not need a professional portrait; or at the other extreme that the market would actually become flooded with amateurs, churning out all sorts of photographs and artworks, swamping out anything of true class, or devaluing everything to stock photo images that the professional will struggle to get paid a decent amount for because an amateur has already licensed a similar image to Ikea for a tenner to adorn the walls of every living room around.

So, has it devalued the medium? I say not. I say, actually, quite the opposite.

Rather than devalue the photos I have, any of the seventeen thousand, it has made photography more of my life. And that isn't to say that the number of rubbish photos hasn't increased: it has, dramatically. But so has the number of better photos. What was once the preserve of the professionals, where they could take a couple of dozen photos and select the correct one for the publication, so I am now the same. And I am the same in very many ways... I take the time to take the photo, I check it on the screen, analyse what I can do to improve it, shuffle myself, adjust the angle etc to get the proper framing, depth, exposure, aperture.

Only that's another thing: the camera does all that for you, doesn't it? It has autofocus, auto-flash, auto-aperture, auto-white-balance etc.? Well, I say that people that actually give a damn about the photos, those that might actually have diminished or demolished the livelihood of the professional actually understand these all the more now, actually appreciate the time, effort and expertise of the photographer, and can tell the subtle differences between a simple, quick snap, and one which has taken the time and effort to properly compose, They appreciate all the more the sublimities behind a professionally produced image. Those that don't care, don't have the ability to distinguish these things, but then they wouldn't have instructed a professional in any event.

If anything the mass-proliferation of digital photography has only accentuated photography amongst the public, enhanced it as an art-form. Yes it may have introduced new appreciators, but moreover it has opened opportunities into what was previously an elitist and exclusionary arena for true artists. We may very well be taking more photos ourselves, but we are enjoying even more. I don't think the dispensibility argument holds too true, although I speak from the point of view of someone with an anally organised photo collection where if someone were to request to see a photo or series of photos it could be done instantaneously.

We may not print them out in the old analogue format, but we share them widely over our various websites. See the group when they go out all huddle around the digital screen, cackling away at the comedy pose Brian has taken, see the flood on a Monday morning when you log onto your social site and see the pictures from the party the night before. Whereas once these photographs were a moment, a misty-eyed reminiscence to take place a week after the holiday or on a rainy day with nothing better to do; now they are immediately there. You can see the photos that your friends have taken without having to go around and rummage through their bedroom drawers.

And human nature has bred within us a photographic competitiveness. Everyone is competing against everyone else to show that they have the funniest album, the biggest collection, the best technical eye or simply had the most picturesque holiday. And it is this competitiveness as much as anything that is improving us all as photographers, more than attempting to emulate some stuffy, stuck-up professional who simply 'knows' that they are better than everyone else.

What it does do, is sort the wheat from the chaff - in many ways. Yes, I may have twenty two thousand photos; but whereas before I kept every photo that I took because each one of those prints probably cost around 25p when you consider the cost of the film and printing; and because each one of those photos represents an opportunity supplanted: that because I only had 24 frames, I had to let some snapshots go; these days I am far more selective. Whilst I may have seventeen thousand photos, I can only guess at the number I have deleted: multiples not quite right, blurry shots, fingers in the frame and photos of the inside of my pockets. So the proportion of 'good' photos in those that I have retained has increased.

But it also sorts the wheat from the chaff professionally. Whereas some people previously muddled by, creating stock photos for agencies; they are now having to demark themselves from the competition: the public. And so they have to do things that 'normal' people can't do. Like pay actors or models, buy studios and lighting, or create their own proprietary technique or 'look'.

As with all things, the technology has democratized what was essentially an elitist subject; but moreover it has opened it up to that discussion that I have briefly touched upon before: is it art?