{ "version": "https://jsonfeed.org/version/1.1", "title": "Jon’s website", "description": "My website, which is probably of little interest to anyone.", "home_page_url": "https://roobottom.com/", "feed_url": "https://roobottom.com/feed.json", "icon": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/appicon.png", "language": "en-GB", "authors": [ { "name": "Jon Roobottom", "url": "https://roobottom.com/", "avatar": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/appicon.png" } ], "items": [ { "id": "/articles/plugging-into-the-indieweb/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/plugging-into-the-indieweb/", "content_html": "
What is the Indieweb? It’s many things, like a philosophy of publishing content on your website and a set of protocols to connect those websites.
\nThe most crucial aspect I discovered over the past two days is The Indieweb is a wonderful community.
\nI just attended IndiewebCamp Brighton, where I had a mind-expanding time with a bunch of folks as enthusiastic about the web as I am. It left me with a sense of hope that there are pocks of people keeping the dream of a free and open web alive.
\n\nIt also gave me a new way of thinking about writing and publishing: The Digital Garden. In this paradigm, posts aren’t a once-and-done affair; articles can be returned to, updated and changed. Content creation becomes more akin to tending a garden than cranking out posts one after the other. The date still matters, of course, and I’ll keep showing ‘published on’ in my articles, but I’ll add a ‘last updated’, too.
\nDigital Gardening breaks my sense that things must be perfect before publishing them. I can return to posts repeatedly to massage them into shape.
\nJeremy Keith said something that resonated. I’m paraphrasing, but the gist was: “You either feel that you don’t know enough, so you shouldn’t share, or you know too much and think it so obvious that people don’t care.” I hope this new way of thinking will help break this spell. In this spirit, I also created a to-do list, which I’ll update periodically.
\nI wrote (the first version of) this post in fifteen minutes.
\n", "date_published": "2024-03-13T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/indieweb/iwc-cover.jpg" }, { "id": "/articles/diary/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/diary/", "content_html": "I keep a diary—well, a diary of sorts. It’s more of a photo journal. It has a tiny set of users: my wife Katie and me, our respective parents, and a small group of close friends. Until February 2024, my diary was published here with the naive assumption that it would be accessed only by its intended audience; I thought I’d enjoy security through obscurity.
\nBut, as my kids get older, they won’t thank me for having thousands of photos of them freely available online. Our surname is unique enough that, even though I’ve never used their full names here, a cursory search for “roobottom” returns hundreds of images.
\nI’d never forgive myself if they were the victims of grooming, identity fraud or any of the other horrible things that people can do with photos that contain identifiable information. Search “Why shouldn’t I publish photos of my kids online?” and you’ll quickly discover why I started to worry.
\nMy thinking on content strategy is shifting. The changes I’m making to my diary are interconnected with the Digital Garden. Diary posts and long-form articles have always been fundamentally different at their core, but the concept of “curating content over time” shifts them even further apart.
\nI took this opportunity to move some family-orientated, time-based articles into the diary. My “reviews of the year” are one example of things that have disappeared from articles.
\nPredictably, some articles don’t fit neatly into either section. Bikepacking in the New Forest is time-based and personal, but it feels interesting enough for others to live in the public part of my site.
\nAll this is flawed; it’s always a work in progress.
\nA login screen now hides Diary posts from the wider world. This was a significant technical challenge, given my design constraints:
\nI wrapped my Eleventy-generated content in a simple Express-js server to achieve independence. This way, I can serve mainly static content while maintaining server-side control over routes when needed.
\nI use ImageKit to host my images. It costs me nothing, as I use less than the 20GB of bandwidth and storage they offer for free.
\nUsing ImageKit enables me to host my images securely as they support signed URLs. I have configured this so that I can sign each image request via Express. The image URL is then valid for 30 seconds, which means it shows up for authorised users but can’t be copied and used later as the signing key is bound to the timestamp.
\nSigned URLs also have the advantage that the hi-res versions of images cached by Google (and others) no longer work. Over time, even those cached versions should die out.
\nAnother feature ImageKit unlocks is image manipulation. I use this feature to build a collage for each diary post with up to four images, which I can then show on the diary listing page using my card
component.
Brownhills is where I grew up. It’s part of the Black Country, the heartland of England’s industrial revolution in the 18th and 19th centuries. Someone told me that Brownhills got its name from the brown earth spoil from digging the pits - known colloquially as “slag”.
\nI’m back for a short visit and walking around Brownhills this morning; I had a strange sense of my past mixed in with the deeper history of the area. I was never particularly proud of my home town as a kid. Today I reevaluated the place of my birth and the proud heritage of industry and engineering in the area.
\nFrom my parents’ house, I walked along the canal under Middleton Bridge and down the steps to The McClean Way towards the Smithy’s Forge gate and up along the High Street…
\nMiddleton Bridge carries Chase Road over the Anglesey Branch of the Wyrley and Essington Canal. The waterway was built to transport coal and limestone from Wyrely to Wolverhampton and Walsall.
\nThis was my route to school; walking this way meant I could avoid the noise and fumes of the cars on the A5. When I was a kid, the canal would freeze in winter, and those brave or stupid enough could walk from one side to the other. This was as long as you didn’t get too near the bridge, where the canal narrows and the ice becomes thin.
\nIf you head north from the bridge, you’ll come to Chasewater. This massive reservoir was completed in 1797 and designed to refill the canal system. When a boat exits a lock, around 100,000 litres of water is displaced down-canal. The constant too-and-fro of badges in the late 18th and early 19th centuries meant that the waterway often needed to be refreshed.
\nUnfortunately, just two years after it was opened, a vast storm destabilised the dam at Chasewater releasing billions of litres of water that damaged everything in its path—up to four miles away! The dam’s engineers redesigned the wall, and, in a testament to just how vital the canal was at the time, Chasewater was once again operational nine short months later.
\nOne hundred ninety-five years later, aged fifteen, I was sailing dinghies on Chasewater with no appreciation of the incredible work of the Navvies, who built the wall that held the water in place.
\nJohn Robinson McClean was a railway engineer who was the first—and possibly only—person to be the sole owner of a railway. His company, The South Staffordshire Railway, built many of the lines in the Midlands, one of which ran near my house.
\nWe called the disused railway “The Batters” and would often scramble up and down its steep banks home from school. Or, hide here rather than complete a cross country run. It was pretty inaccessible, having been left for nature to reclaim after the railway closed in 1983.
\nBut now, thanks to the fine folks at Back The Track, the railway has a new lease of life. Volunteers have cleared a significant part of the line; it’s now a popular spot for walkers and cyclists. There are plans to remove the remaining section from the A5 to Lichfield. But who knows if and when that will happen? Still, I’m hopeful of one day being able to cycle the route from Pelsall to Lichfield.
\nOn the McClean Way gates, near the Smithy’s Forge pub, there’s an incredible photo of a train, smoke billowing from its chimney, departing the station in the direction of Lichfield. It’s a heartbreakingly romantic image of a Brownhills I never knew. It’s a shame the railway disappeared; I wonder what the town’s fate would have been with a decent transport link to Walsall and Birmingham. It could have found a new lease of life as a commuter town. Alas, it was never to be.
\nBrownhills High Street is heartbreaking. Where there were once thriving businesses, now there’s a collection of takeaways and graffitied shutters. The ruins of the Ravens Court Shopping Centre are particularly emotive for me.
\nThere’s a strong sense of my Mom here. A shop sold wool and other various knitting paraphanialla a few doors from the paper shop where she’d always buy me a 10p mix. There isn’t much left from the glory days, but the tiles remain with their weird pattern. The sight of the tiles is like a time machine in my head, instantly transporting me back to the ‘80s, shopping with my Mom.
\nI can feel the pride someone once had when erecting the cast-iron arch with its “Ravens Court” lettering. This cornerstone of my youth is now shuttered and abandoned.
\nThe High Street is a sharp reminder that the decline I witnessed first-hand in the ‘80s and ‘90s is still evident today. Despite the promise of those early pioneers and the canals and railways they built, the town is a shadow of its former self.
\nOf course, there are complex reasons for this: The death of coal mining, the general decline of the high street, and successive governments who have invested too little.
\nI’ve consistently turned to Brownhills Bob for inspiration in writing this post. Bob’s fantastic blog gives me hope. Bob and the hundreds of people who comment on the blog love Brownhills. The real treasure in Brownhills is its people.
\nAnd, for the first time in a long time, real change is coming to Brownhills: Aldi has plans to regenerate Ravens Court, and businesses are springing up to capitalise on the planned clearway extension. Maybe the future of Brownhills is tourism? After all, with its rich history of industry and various green spaces, Brownhills is fascinating and beautiful.
\n", "date_published": "2022-05-16T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/brownhills/cover.jpeg" }, { "id": "/articles/stauntons-folly/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/stauntons-folly/", "content_html": "Follies are fantastic pieces of decorative architecture. They don’t serve any practical function other than to be objects of fascination. In Staunton Park in Havant, there’s a great folly on the grounds of a long disappeared country pile; The Shell House.
\n\nThe Shell Folly — which is based on the Chichester Cross — is particularly lovely. Gone are the ornate shell panels of Staunton’s day. Instead, there’s a display of shells painted by local school children over recent years. In its repaired state, it gives a hint of what must have been an outstanding country estate.
\nThis weekend we spent time with Katie’s cousin and family. On Saturday morning, in an attempt to burn off too much cheese and booze the night before, Andy and I completed the Havant Parkrun. The course starts near what’s now a café, but what was once a stable, and descends a steep hill towards an ornamental lake. En route, if you’re not all consumed by the effort of the run, you might notice several unusual buildings.
\nIn 1820, Sir George Staunton purchased a grand house and associated grounds of what was then called Leigh Park Gardens. He wasted no time remodelling the home and commissioned several Follies on the grounds. All that survives today is the Shell House and Beacon follies and the Chinese bridge. Alas, the house—which the government requisitioned during world war 2—was eventually so dilapidated it was demolished in 1959.
\nWith funding from the Lottery Heritage Fund, Hampshire County Council has done an excellent job of restoring the follies and various buildings on the site. Where Staunton’s mansion stood, there’s now a latticework of stones that shows the outline of the once grand house. The Grand Terrace survives, including a tunnel to what was probably the trade entrance to the basement level. I found it moving to imagine what once was; the ornate tiles inlaid on the vaulting under the Grand Terrace a partially poignant reminder of days gone by.
\nSearching online to help write this article, I came across the fantastic Folly Flâneuse blog’s post on the Shell House. Go there if you want some great content about this and other follies.
\n", "date_published": "2022-05-07T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/stauntons-folly/cover.jpeg" }, { "id": "/articles/assault-on-ukraine/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/assault-on-ukraine/", "content_html": "I wonder what sort of thoughts course through the mind of Vladimir Putin? He certainly has more than most to occupy his attention. I wonder if he’s ever able to put into context the terror his actions have brought into the lives of millions.
\nI cannot imagine what it must feel like to be Ukrainian at the moment. Your country, your beautiful homeland with all the people and places you love, under threat. All those parents trying desperately to reassure their children. My heart breaks for them.
\nDespite the horror, most of my thoughts are selfishly occupied by nuclear war. I can see it all playing out: The build up of NATO troops on Ukraine’s border. The Russian forces squaring off. And one miscalculation…
\nI foolishly found a copy of the old Protect and Survive Pamphlet online. Published in 1980 it contains some pretty laughable ideas of how to survive a nuclear attack at home. I imagined creating my own fallout room with it’s inner refuge made from our home’s internal doors. I imagined the horror of surviving there for two weeks; all of us huddled together, the children crying. Then the fear of radiation poisoning and those scenes from HBO’s Chernobyl.
\nThen I think back to Putin and what might lead him to “press the button”. And what a shame it would be that the only creatures we know of that are able to wonder at the universe might be snuffed out.
\n", "date_published": "2022-02-25T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "" }, { "id": "/articles/new-forest-velo-2021/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/new-forest-velo-2021/", "content_html": "My pal Paul and I spent three days cycling in the beautiful New Forest.
\nThe train unloaded us in Brockenhurst around lunchtime. After a stressful change at Southampton, it was a welcome relief to head out into the Forest. We cycled south, stopping briefly to admire the church of Saint Nicholas just outside of town.
\nNext was Lymington for a spot of lunch at Lounges. This fantastic little cafe is tucked away in a side street. Katie and I were here with the kids last year, but today’s meal was an altogether more gentle affair.
\nLater, we rode to Keyhaven, where little boats bobbed in the picturesque harbour. A stone’s throw away — in Milford on Sea — I sat lazily on the beach while Paul dicked about in the sea. From here, the Isles of Wight looks so close it’s easy to imagine swimming the distance. We didn’t try it, but others do.
\n\nLeaving the beach, we were equal parts envigorated (Paul) and sunburned (me). We reached our accommodation after another few kilometres of furious cycling. In contrast to last year, we’d decided to go upmarket and book something with a roof. Woodcutters lodge in Sway was a world away from a freezing one-man tent in a field full of noisy cows.
\n\n“Now I’ve cheered you up, mate we’re gonna go for it today.” I’m not sure Paul was convinced, but he agreed to follow my route that took in the best cycling the forest had to offer.
\nAnd it didn’t disappoint; loads of fun on gravel paths and forest trails. I’d even had the foresight to book a pub for lunch; this was a bit scummy but the food was fine. I did eat entirely too much cheese, then suffered from the cheese farts most of the afternoon. I sure was glad I wasn’t riding behind me.
\nI love the New Forest. There are ponies around every corner, beautiful views galore and lovely riding. I’m also very grateful we got to do this trip in such glorious weather; it felt like we’d cheated somehow and got away in the one week of glorious weather between the rain.
\nHalfway across the scrubland, we came across a small stream. It didn’t look deep, so we forged on. Luckily I had spare socks but, even now, my shoes still have the stank of the water.
\nThat morning we’d packed up our shit and headed out. I got a slight tinge of that “last day of holiday” feeling, but it quickly dissipated as soon as my feet hit the peddles. By the time we reached Setley Pond, I was back in the embrace of the magic of the forest. It was a nice surprise to find the fellows of the Solent Radio Control Model Yacht Club sailing their miniature boats. Is there anything more quintessentially British than a bunch of grown-up men playing with toy boats?
\n\nAlas, we eventually came upon the station. One moment we were riding an idyllic forest road, the next we were on the train to Southampton. All over for another year, then. See you next time, New Forest.
\n", "date_published": "2021-09-30T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/78/bike-on-a-sign.jpeg" }, { "id": "/articles/bikepacking-in-the-new-forest/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/bikepacking-in-the-new-forest/", "content_html": "Freezing nighttime temperatures and mad cows didn’t put a dent in our enjoyment of the New Forest. My good friend Paul and I spent two days riding its roads, gravel trails and single track.
\nWe arrived at Brockenhurst station, mid-morning. A ten-minute journey from Southampton but a whole world away. From here we headed south-west along Burley Road, then turned East towards Beaulieu. With our bikes fully laden with gear the going was gentle, so we soon found an excuse to stop: The beautiful old church of St John the Baptist in Boldre.
\n\nDay one was all about little exploring villages, drinking tea and generally taking it easy. We found a great coffee shop in Beaulieu that sold terrific cakes. There’s also a fresh-water refill station nearby, favoured by cyclists and wild donkeys alike.
\nWe made good time to our overnight stop; Pondhead Farm campsite. Pondhead is a simple, minimalist site that I booked through Pitchup. “Go anywhere you want,” said the friendly lady at reception. There were loos and a tap for fresh drinking water. Good enough for us.
\nOne of the more unusual aspects of Pondhead is the cows that wander the campsite. The little ones were cute enough, but the larger ones were quite alarming, seeming not to care too much about walking directly through our camp area. I did feel a little exposed in my tiny tent at the thought of half a ton of cow trampling me in the night. They also made their presence known by scream-mooing into the small hours. Earplugs were a blessing.
\nAfter an interesting nights sleep and a hearty breakfast of porridge cooked on my trusty Trangia, we set off again.
\nThe plan for today was to head north to Firtham before turning back southward towards the train station at Brockenhurst. But not before we’d explored the nearby Bolton’s Bench. Built to celebrate the Duke of Bolton this huge bench runs around a Yew tree. There are some spectacular views from up here. But time was slipping away, and we had kilometres to cover.
\nEventually arriving at Fritham, we found a great pub called the Royal Oak, where we stopped for a drink. Our mistake was to have already had lunch en route from a less-than-glamorous petrol station. We should have waited as the food a the Royal Oak looked delicious.
\n\nNow heading south, the riding was epic, with long, flowing descents through the deserted forest. Now this is what we came here for. What a way to end two fantastic days of cycling!
\nHaving lived close-by for years, I feel that I’ve only just discovered the New Forest. With our recent holiday here and now this cycling trip I’m a bit in love. How lucky we are to have this glorious place only two hours from home.
\nI’d planned for us to follow the New Forest Gravel Taster from Bikepacking.com. But, due to COVID restrictions, a lot of the campsites recommended were closed; I couldn’t find anywhere halfway, and I didn’t want to slipt the course 70/30.
\nThankfully, Komoot is fantastic and let me easily plan an alternative route with Pondhead Campsite at its centre. I’d maybe just change a couple of things: I certainly would avoid any main roads next time. There was one section on day two along the A35 which was particularly unpleasant. I’d also plan for lunch better — putting at least one pub between us and lunchtime would have been more enjoyable.
\nStill, all in all, it was a pretty decent route. If you’d like to follow in our footsteps (or should that be wheel groves?) — then you can do so on Komoot:
\nRecently, I’ve been fascinated with Nick Bostrom’s idea of the “vulnerable world”. In his paper “The Vulnerable World Hypothesis”, he invites us to consider future inventions and their ability to destroy the world.
\n\nNick Bostrom imagines an “urn of possible inventions”. In the urn are many balls, each one represents a discovery or invention. Pure-white balls are the entirely beneficial technologies—vaccines, for example, might be a white ball invention. But most balls pulled out of the urn are various shades of grey. For instance, harnessing the nuclear fission reaction has both good and bad applications.
\nHumankind is predisposed to pull out these balls at an ever-increasing rate. And, once we’ve pulled them out, there’s no way to put the balls back. So what if there’s a black ball in the urn? A technology that’s so entirely negative that its invention leads to the inevitable destruction of the world.
\nAt first glance, this seems absurd. But Bostrom presents a thought experiment to demonstrate why the world could indeed be vulnerable. Accessing the energy stored in atoms is difficult. It takes lots of rare plutonium or enriched uranium to produce a nuclear reaction, not something an average person could do. But suppose it turned out not to be that difficult? Once someone had the idea and it was in the public domain, anyone could make a nuclear bomb with a minimum of time and effort.
\nAn “easy nuke” is an example of a black ball: A discovery that’s extraordinarily destructive and remarkably easy to execute. Once that type of approach was out of the urn, it couldn’t be put back and would inevitably lead to annihilation.
\nI’d highly recommend reading Nick Bostrom’s paper The Vulnerable World Hypothesis. It’s equal parts fascinating and chilling.
\n", "date_published": "2020-07-01T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/74/black-ball.jpg" }, { "id": "/articles/building-a-bugatti/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/building-a-bugatti/", "content_html": "I’ve just finished building the amazing Lego Bugatti Chiron. It’s by far the most complex Lego kit I’ve ever assembled. But is it worth the hefty price tag? Here’s what I thought.
\n1989 was an outstanding year for me. For my birthday, mom and dad brought me Lego set 8895. The Test Car was the first Lego Technic set I built—and it still holds a special place in my heart. Years later, Katie and I spent a few evenings rebuilding the car. It was much harder than I remembered. I’m surprised that geeky nine-year-old kid was able to build it.
\nThe Lego Bugatti is in a different league entirely to that old Test Car kit. But it still has the same DNA. Indeed, it has many identical parts. The engine blocks, for example, made me feel especially nostalgic.
\nThe packaging is incredible. Open the box, and you’re greeted with 6 smaller boxes. Printed either side, you can flip 'em and see the front or back of the car. Flipping through the two beefy instruction manuals gave me some idea of what a mammoth build this was going to be.
\n\nFirst up is building the rear differential and suspension. Then the difficulty is ramped up sharply with the gearbox and engine. This was by far the most fun bit of the whole car. Once the power plant is finished, you move on to the front of the vehicle. With its paddle-shift gears and complex steering column, this is also an enjoyable bit of the build.
\n\nJust like the real Chiron, the Lego model undergoes a process known as “the marriage”. This means connecting the rear to the front. To do so, you have to make sure that all rods and connectors are aligned correctly. Then, pushing one half into the other. This was a lovely touch and made me feel (kind of) like a real engineer.
\n\nSo far, the model had consumed my evenings for over a week. I’d enjoyed myself immensely, losing myself in the details. With book one finished, I moved on to book 2: The bodywork and interior.
\nThe second half of the build was less engaging than the first. This was for a few reasons. For a start, it was less complicated. Slotting together all the intricate cogs in the gearbox and engine really reminded me of what I loved about Lego Technic as a kid. But the bodywork had none of that complexity, so started to feel like a bit of slog to finish.
\nAnother reason was Lego’s surprising decision to provide stickers, rather than print decals directly onto the parts. A few bits—like the wheel badges—had been direct-printed. But the stickers felt like they cheapened the model somewhat.
\nFinally, there’s an overall flimsiness to the model—especially the doors, which are quite heavy but only held on by a single joint. I felt slightly disappointed. But not too much. After 2 weeks of work (around 15 hours), I finished the Bugatti. I have to admit that—despite the problems I’ve mentioned—I absolutely loved building this model.
\n\nThe Lego Bugatti Chiron was crazy fun to build. Especially the sophisticated powerplant, gearbox and drivetrain. It’s let down a bit by the flimsy body panels and cheap looking stickers. Overall though, I’d recommend this for any Lego Technic fans. Especially those overgrown kids (like me) who want to recapture a bit of their childhood.
\n", "date_published": "2020-06-17T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/73/the-car.jpeg" }, { "id": "/articles/lockdown/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/lockdown/", "content_html": "We’ve been in lockdown for 7 weeks. Working, schooling and even birthday parties are all done from home. It’s hard, but we’re healthy. Friends who have had the virus have recovered with minimal effects. Overall, so far, we’re feeling pretty lucky.
\nThat said, this sucks. We miss family and friends. Technology helps, but video calling is starting to get old. We’re also missing just going out. Going out without being worried about every surface. Going out without awkwardly maneuvering around people on the street. Going out without thinking about this bloody virus.
\nBut here’s the rub: I don’t feel like I can find this hard. There’s always someone who’s got it worse. That can be said of any situation, but I find this be particularly true now.
\nThe truth is that lockdown is hard for everyone in different ways. As crazy as lockdown is with two young children—we have a house full of life. We have company on tap, 24/7. Whenever we want it—or even when we don’t.
\nWe know there are people out there who’re struggling. All those poor families who don’t have a garden, for example. Or—God forbid—lost someone to this terrible disease. I’m not saying I never moan about this situation. I do moan. Frequently. But, on reflection, it could be much worse for us.
\nI feel sorry for people who’ve been suckered by the numerous conspiracy theories which have sprung up around Covid-19. That 5G causes the body to stop exchanging oxygen efficiently. Or that the government are planning to track us all via microchips in vaccines. I’ve heard many of these crackpot theories lately. One thing they have in common is the fear that we are being controlled. That there’s a secret society that sways the actions of the world’s governments by nefarious means. That must be a scary world to live in. Even more terrifying than a planet in the grips of a global pandemic.
\nI recently turned 40. My daughter had her birthday a few days later. We both missed out on our parties. It’s a small sacrifice, and we had a great time at home. (Pass the parcel and pin the horn on the unicorn were particular favourites.) But it was hard for us—probably more so than her—for Roo to not see her friends on her special day.
\n\nOutside the world is the same. Except its not. It’s now perfectly acceptable to cross the street to avoid other people. “Don’t go near those other people” we happily tell Roo. Perhaps being rude is the new normal?
\nPlay parks remain closed and abandoned. Checkout staff sit behind giant sheets of perspex. And every day a person from the government tells us calmly how many people died today.
\n\nI’m sure its different if you or a loved one is experiencing symptoms, but to us the threat seems diminished. The British people have done an excellent job at squashing this virus. As a result, we’re starting to see the rate of infection drop.
\nThat said, the death toll is still high and infections don’t seem to be dropping hugely quickly. I think our overall feeling is one of cautious optimism. It’s clear that we’re in this for the long term, but there are some tiny green shoots.
\nThe nation is caught in a holding pattern, waiting for our lives to return.
\n", "date_published": "2020-05-11T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/72/Playpark.jpeg" }, { "id": "/articles/pandemic/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/pandemic/", "content_html": "Over the last month or so, the world has changed. In my little town on the south coast of England, things changed slowly. Then they changed a lot, all at once.
\nI wanted to write something about this time and how our small family is faring. Of course, we live in a wealthy western country. We’re the lucky ones. I’ll try and keep that in mind when describing our situation.
\nThroughout February, we heard increasing reports of a new flu-like virus spreading in China. I wasn’t particularly alarmed. SARS, MERS, Swine Flu and Ebola had all appeared and then disappeared. None of them had any direct impact on my life.
\nIn early March new posters started appearing in my office. “Wash your hands more often for 20 seconds”. I felt some alarm, but I’m usually pretty good at handwashing anyway. There was more chat amongst friends and colleges about Cornonvirus.
\nOn 7th March, Katie and I visited Highdown Vinyard to talk through plans for my upcoming 40th birthday party. I asked about what would happen if the government banned large gatherings. It was an off-the-cuff comment. I didn’t think it was going to happen.
\nOn Monday 16th, HMRC asked us to work from home. Later that week, a few people had planned to get together for my friend’s surprise 40th. Even though restaurants and bars were still open, we decided to postpone it. Government advice was to avoid large groups, so it felt like the right thing to do.
\nOn 23rd March, Boris Johnson announced a full lockdown. In less than a month, Covid19 has significantly changed or lives.
\nThe lockdown means that each person in the UK should:
\nFor our family, it means that we’re now spending much more time with each other. This has been a joy and a hardship. I have to give credit to Katie, who does a much better job of holding it together than I do. She’s taking care of Rootwo who’s 6 months and homeschooling and entering Roo while I work.
\nI’m working from our cabin at the bottom of our garden. I feel incredibly lucky to be one of the few who’s managed to carry on working in much the same way as before. It’s a lovely place to be. I have a standing desk, plants and a garden to look out on.
\nSpeaking of the garden, we’ve spent a lot of time outside. Of course, we’ve been sticking to our one exercise per day allowance - but the garden gives us an extra escape from the house. The weather has been beautiful too, that helps.
\nOur social life has moved online. Chatting with friends and family helps massively. The technology we take for granted has been our saving grace in the battle against loneliness.
\n\nEarly on the news was overwhelming. I found myself obsessively checking the BBC website. I’ve managed to reign that in. At least I feel less depressed when I do watch the news now. Or maybe I’m just numb to it.
\nI’ve become preoccupied with statistics. Initially, the media narrative was that most people got a mild illness. But more recently there’s been a spate of reports of young, fit people getting seriously ill. It’s difficult to tell if these stories reflect the overall picture, or what’s most shocking and therefore, newsworthy. Hence the fixation with statistics.
\nNumbers don’t lie. But it seems that reports of 80% getting a mild form of Coronavirus were based on the numbers from Wuhan. I want to know if the numbers here reflect that same story. There doesn’t seem to be anywhere to find out.
\nIt seems to me that this is going to go on for a long time. Even when we’re through the peek and cases start to come down, there’s no easy way out. Without a vaccine or effective treatment, any relaxing of social distancing rules is going to result in more cases.
\nThere is perhaps some hope in a test and trace program. But here in the UK, we don’t seem to be close to testing people at scale.
\nAll most of us can do is follow the guidelines and put our faith in science.
\n", "date_published": "2020-04-09T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/71/cover.jpeg" }, { "id": "/articles/a-love-letter-to-a-tiny-island/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/a-love-letter-to-a-tiny-island/", "content_html": "“Archipelago” is such a lovely word. It conjures images of far-flung island chains, sunkissed beaches and ragged shorelines. Twenty-eight miles off the southwestern tip of England is Cornwall’s own archipelago: The Isles of Scilly.
\nThe islands are a place of contrast. Beautiful yet wild. Bright white beaches nestle alongside sea ravaged cliffs. Windswept hills sit beside sheltered coves and inlets.
\nMy wife Katie and I have visited many times: With friends; As girlfriend and boyfriend; As husband and wife; And more recently, with our small family.
\nThis is my love letter to the Islands: A collection of memories from all those trips to Scilly. Out of order and somewhat idealised. The way good memories should be.
\nIn 2012, Katie and I were due to fly via helicopter, alas it was grounded due to technical difficulty. We had to stay overnight in Penzance and catch the ferry the following day…
\nEvery morning, throughout the summer a passenger ferry departs from the quay in Penzance. Aboard you’ll find serval hundred seats, two cafés and thousands of small white bags in dispensers attached to the bulkheads.
\nThis is the RMV Scillonian III, and she’s been transporting excited — and occasionally green — tourists from the mainland to the Isles of Scilly since 1977.
\n\nThere are more comfortable ways to get to the Scillies: A small seven-seater plane dubbed Skybus that flies from Lands End, Newquay or Exeter. And, in times past, there was a helicopter that flew from Penzance that was always our favorite way to get to the islands. Alas, this ceased operation at the end of 2012. We were booked on a mid-morning flight, but due to there being a large hole in the side of the helicopter, we were forced to overnight in a nearby hotel to catch the ferry the following day.
\nOn this particular voyage, we secured our regular spot on the middle deck, near the back door. This is the ideal spot for Katie to sit as motionless as possible and endure any rough crossing.
\nKnowing the best thing to do is leave her alone, this position also avails me of an escape route outside to the upper deck. From here, it’s not unusual to spot gigantic shoals of fish or even dolphins in the wake of the engines. In rough water, this is also the optimal location to enjoy the power of the seas. And to keep a weathered eye on the horizon, just in case.
\nAt capacity, the Scillonian carries 485 souls some of whom line the upper deck like birds on a telephone wire. It’s a busy place to be, people perched atop benches, leaning on the rigging, or hanging over the rails.
\nWhatever may come, we’re all now locked together for the two-hours and forty-five-minute trip. Knowing looks are passed over the heads of the unsuspecting day trippers by those of us who’ve travelled this way before. “Poor sods” our brief eye contact seems to say, as we don our pressure point travel bands and pop an array of chemical remedies for mal de mare.
\nLuckily, all this preparation is for nought. Once we rounded Gwennap Head off Lands End, and are in full steam towards the islands, most of the more unpleasant effects of the sea are behind us. On a sunny day, there’s no better way to arrive on Scilly than by boat.
\nWhat’s astonishing is the speed at which the passengers disappear once we’ve docked in St Mary’s harbour. Some hang around on the quay waiting for smaller tender boats to the off-islands. Most make the happy walk up the dock, past the Mermaid pub and along Hugh Street, draining off down the various alleyways and lanes to their holiday accommodations.
\nAt any one time throughout the summer there are thousands of visitors on the islands. And yet, it doesn’t ever feel busy. Scilly is full of secret places, quiet beaches and deserted coves.
\nOur journey took us via the Kavorna Café (to pick up our first Cornish pasty of the holiday), over Garrison Lane and onto Littleporth to where our friend’s mum has a place that looks out over Porthcressa beach.
\n\nNaturally, the door is unlocked. Unloading our bags in the doorway, we made our way through the house and out into the garden. Finally, we sank into various bits of unmatched garden furniture and savoured our pasties in silence, taking in the gorgeous view, ready for our holiday to start.
\nIn 2017, my wife Katie, daughter “Roo” and I visited Scilly along with our friends Cath and Dave…
\n“Mummy! I want to get up now!”
\nI turned over and looked at my watch. 8:05. Wow, she slept well.
\n“Daddy!”
\nOK, kid, give me a minute here. But Katie’s already out of bed and padding down the creaky corridor.
\n“Shh, you’ll wake Cath and Dave”, I hear Katie tell Roo. Rolling over I caught a glimpse of the sun streaming in at the window. Time to get up.
\n“Mummy, we on holy-day”, Roo confidently tells Katie as they, by degrees, make their way down the corridor. Katie was taking significantly more care than Roo, who skipped down the hall like a demented rabbit.
\nI joined my family in the Kitchen. It really was a gorgeous day. A quick check of the BBC’s weather app informed me that it’s a balmy twenty-five degrees with light winds. A lovely day for boating.
\nAfter breakfast we executed our plan: Heading for St Martins. Five of us; intrepid seafarers standing on the quay, tickets in hand watching the Sea King draw alongside the waiting passengers.
\n\nLanding at Higher Town, our first port of call was The Island Bakery for the day’s supplies. Fully stocked with Cornish pasties and cola cake, we trundled up the single track road and over the brow of the hill before taking the path cut through a field overgrown with Scilly’s ubiquitous Bracken. The vast swathe of white sand of Great Bay was almost deserted. Besides a few families lounging here and there we’re the only people, so finding a sheltered spot was simple.
\n\nSeaside days used to be a relaxed affair but with Roo in tow, it’s now more like mobilising a beach assault. Once the shelter was up, beach mats laid out and sun cream applied, we unpacked the various excavating tools. Thankfully she’s still a bit too small to want to bury daddy, so digging giant holes was the order of the day. Roo took up her position as site foreman then Dave, and I set about our task of digging several large holes and interconnecting trenches. Eventually, the tide will come up and fill this carefully engineered system, much to Roo’s delight, after which Dave and I will have to frantically shore-up walls and rebuild various dams.
\nAll too soon the site whistle sounds for lunch.
\n“Lads! Lunchtime!”
\nSated, crumb covered, and chocolate stained we emerged from lunch. If only Roo can have a nap in the beach shelter, maybe we can have a relaxing hour catching up on some reading. She doesn’t take much coaxing, exhausted from bossing us around she’s happy to sleep.
\nOne or two of us drifted off too. It’s hard not to in the warmth of the day and with the rhythmic whoosh of the sea lapping at the beach. On waking, I felt the need to burn off all that pasty. It’s was time to break out the wetsuit and snorkel and explore the crystal clear waters.
\nWetsuit, booties, flippers, mask and flippers. All the gear and no idea. Penguin-like, I gingerly waddled my way down to the shoreline and into the freezing waters of the Atlantic. Once waist-deep, I took a big breath and rolled forward into the water. Waiting for the cold water effect to pass, I wrangled the mask into position over my face and entered the underwater world.
\nBelow the water barrier, I’m in another world entirely. From the beach, I must look like Manatee in distress, but down in my aquatic environment, I felt like Jacques Cousteau about to discover some previously unimagined species.
\nFurther out the water was clear all the way to the bottom some five meters below, where Kelp forests sheltered shoals of fish. A sudden shot of panic as my lizard brain picked up movement in my peripheral vision: A large striped fish darted out of the Kelp. I followed at a distance. He came to rest in a clearing, and I was able to float above him and just watch for what seemed like an eternity.
\n“I saw a massive fish out there”, I announced to Katie, extending my arms to demonstrate its size, adding a few centimetres in the tradition of men everywhere when talking about the size of things.
\n“That’s nice dear”, she replied. “But we need to pack up and go, or we’ll miss the last boat back.”
\nEveryone was contemplative on the return to St Mary’s. Even Roo — who was up on her knees so she could see over the side — was uncharacteristically quiet. It was hard not to get lost in that view; the ocean glinting like a blanket of tiny diamonds, the twin islands of St. Agnes and Gugh slung low on the horizon.
\nRoo was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Perfect, especially as Dave and Cath had kindly offered to babysit.
\nA great tradition on our visits to Scilly — perhaps the tradition — is partaking in a scone or two at Juliet’s Garden. Perched on top of a hill, the garden offers spectacular views over Tresco. On a warm day, there’s nothing quite like sitting in Juliet’s Garden cramming copious amounts of scone and tea into ones face.
\nJuliet isn’t just famed for her cream teas, she also runs a fantastic restaurant. On arrival this evening, Katie and I were served drinks in the garden while watching the gorgeous sunset. Then, taking our seats inside, we were treated to an incredible three-course meal.
\nAs the evening was warm, and our bellies were full we decided to forego a taxi and walk. We sat a while on the flat rock above Town Beach and watched the boat lights bobbing around in the harbour. I don’t think either of us wanted the evening to end. Eventually, though, the lure of bed called us, and we reluctantly slunk back to the house. I often think of that romantic evening on the flat rock as one of my stand out memories of our trip that year. For me, a balmy evening watching small boats on the water is quintessentially Scilly.
\nIn 2014, on our last holiday, before Roo was born, we visited Scilly with our friends Cath, Dave and Emily.
\nThe Scilly Cart Co used to have a Facebook page on which it posted pictures, usually taken by disgruntled locals, of the imperfect parking decisions taken by tourists when hiring a cart for the day. When you arrive at the Cart Co’s depot, you’re greeted with a display board of these photos followed by a pep-talk by the owner on the evils of annoying the locals with where you choose to park.
\n\nWith these words of warning rising in our ears Dave and I pulled out onto the main road, each of us determined to follow the rules to the letter. How we ended up attempting to break the land-speed record is anyone’s guess. One moment we were driving along sensibly, the next we were bouncing up and down in our seats trying to squeeze every ounce of speed we could from our formula-z cart. Needless to say, we weren’t very successful, and no traffic laws were violated.
\nAfter the girls were aboard, we set out along the Telegraph Road that circles the innards of the island. There was no plan beyond maybe finding a beach and most definitely finding somewhere for lunch. I’ve gotta admit that — despite appearances — driving a golf-buggy is crazy fun. So we kept driving, twice around the island in fact, before we eventually decided we needed some lunch.
\nThis was the birth of another great tradition: Lunch at Kaffeehaus Salbei, a German-inspired café and guesthouse. When it’s hot, and not too busy, you can get a table outside or else swelter inside the conservatory. The German Platter is a must, with homemade bread and Bavarian meats and cheeses. Then, of course, one must have either the Apfelstrudel or — my personal favourite — a slice of Sacher Torte. I swear the cart was noticeably slower after lunch. It was either the weight of the food, or the battery had taken a beating from our multiple laps of the island.
\nLocals on the islands often supplement their income by making things, which are offered for sale by the side of the road. An honesty box is provided for you to remunerate the artist for their handiwork. There is such a place on Porth Loo Lane. With time on our hands, we parked the cart and went for a look.
\n\nThis particular treasure-trove was in the craftsperson’s garden shed. Inside, we found all manner of items. Some cobbled together from flotsam and jetsam. Some reclaimed from household bits and bobs. One thing, in particular, caught Dave’s eye: A fox, made from an old piece of brown carpet. One mad button eye was sewn onto its face, another for its nose. It was beautiful. It was perfect. He had to have it. I think it is a source of great regret that he didn’t buy it there and then. We should have known really, but when we returned later it was already gone. I like to think of it in an ornamental frame, in pride of place above someone’s fireplace. Lucky buggers.
\nLater, the cart safely returned with minimal damage, we headed to the Atlantic for dinner and the pub quiz. We were all too drunk (or too stupid) to answer any of the questions well, and “team bum trumpets” inevitably place dead last.
\nOn any other evening, a night-out on Scilly would end with the closing of the pub. But not tonight, tonight we were off to Barry’s.
\nOnce a week, Barry opens the doors to his basement for the world famous Barry’s Disco. Imagine the scene: 50 sweaty people dancing the night away in a tiny basement to the hot disco “hits” of the late 90s. God knows what time we finally got out of there. Needless to say, we all had a little lay-in the next morning.
\nIn 2009, without planning to, Katie and I visited St.Mary’s in the same week as the World Gig Pilot Gig Championships…
\nAll week, St.Mary’s had been its usual, tranquil place: Little sailing boats had bobbed in the harbour; Gentle winds had blown across the sun-kissed beaches. And the island’s pubs and eateries had no queues at the bar or required bookings for dinner.
\nThat all changed on Friday morning when the Scillonian docked and brought ashore the first of the revealers who’d come to Scilly to enjoy the weekend’s racing. The Isles of Scilly Steamship Company runs the Scillonian twice-a-day on Gig weekends, dumping several thousand people on the islands in quick succession.
\nThe whole character of the island was transformed. Pubs, who’d obtained exclusive licences for the occasion, remained open 24-hours a day for the duration. There was a not-so-small minority of people who were here for the weekend, but hadn’t anywhere to stay, electing instead to spend their entire time in the boozer.
\nThis didn’t dent the enjoyment, far from it. Experiencing this new aspect of Scilly was exciting. Everyone was very jolly, and even a weekend fueled by alcohol and little sleep didn’t seem to dampen their enthusiasm for cheering on their team.
\nIf you’re not familiar, a Cornish Pilot Gig is a six-person boat about 10 meters long and 1.5 meters wide. In addition to the six rowers, a Cox steers and shouts encouragement and is responsible for ensuring the crew makes land before last orders.
\nGigs are a common sight on the Scillies. Their names, like “Slippen”, “Bonnet” and “Nornour” pay homage to the memory of their namesakes who, in the 17th and 18th centuries, were used as transfer vessels to take Pilots out to larger ships. A Pilot was a local sailor who could navigate safely through the treacherous, rock-laden waters of the archipelago.
\nWe got chatting with a man in a pub. A misty-eyed old sea dog. He told us that it was often the case that more than one Pilot was available at any one time, and the first man to arrive would get the job. So the Gig crews took to racing, the fastest sailors would get paid, and that’s how the Gig races on the Isles started. It’s a romantic story, and I’d like to believe it’s true.
\nThe races start out at sea. The officials string a line buoys to form a start line out by Nut Rock. The crews then wait in their boats as close to the start line as they can. But woe betides any vessel that crosses the line before “go” is called. They get instantly disqualified.
\nThere are old rivalries and alliances between teams who come from all over the world. These all go out of the window once the call comes to start. Every crew for themselves. A crew of six, pulling for all their worth. From the start line, they race across the clear stretch of water to St.Mary’s harbour.
\nFrom our vantage point up on the Garrison, it looks pandemonium; oars churning the sea into a raging torrent. All around the Gigs are the island’s small ferry boats filled to bursting with spectators who’ve paid for the privilege of a close-up view. Add to this the hundreds of smaller private crafts, and you wonder how they don’t smash into each other.
\nAll around us, people are screaming at the top of their lungs, as if the object of their affection could actually hear them way out at sea. I wouldn’t be surprised if they could, such is the roar of the crowd.
\nThe shouting reached fever pitch as the first of the boats rounded the quay, finish line in sight. Given how long they’ve been racing the gap between them was astonishingly close. I’m not sure how they tell, but the first Gig to cross the finish line immediately started to celebrate. They must have been knackered, but somehow they found the strength to row the final few meters to Town Beach. Here, there’s a whole army of people to help them drag the Gig up onto the beach.
\n\nWanting to drink-in more of the atmosphere and a couple of the local ales, Katie and I headed to the Mermaid. This place is incredibly claustrophobic at the best of times, with memorabilia covering every inch of every available surface. Saturday evenings are particularly busy, but this was something else. We could see punters spilling out onto the pavement as we approached. The only way to get in was to forcibly push through the sweaty throng. I imagine as we introduced ourselves into the crush, two other people were ejected from another door somewhere. This place was full.
\nInside the beer was flowing. People were dancing on tables. Tall tales were being told of the day’s victories. Somehow we managed to get a seat, Katie on the end of a bench, and me perched awkwardly on a window ledge. What a night! We emerged several hours later, a little drunk and horse from trying to make ourselves heard.
\nThis is one of my favorite memories of the Islands. I felt totally immersed in the culture. Caught-up in something. It was a unique experience that I don’t think we could ever recapture. In a way, I wouldn’t want to. It was perfect, trying to get it back would somehow sully it.
\nIn 2008, I took my first trip to the islands, and my first flight on a helicopter…
\nThere’s always a sadness that accompanies leaving the Isles of Scilly. It started for me this first year and has never diminished on subsequent trips. At least you used to be able to offset this with the excitement of a trip on the helicopter.
\nAfter waving goodbye to our bags, which would be taken to the airport for us by Island Carriers, we headed into town. Now was the chance to buy as much IOS branded tat as we could lay our grubby hands on. Of course, there was the Isles of Scilly tea towel; The Isles of Scilly fridge magnet; The Isles of Scilly puffin jigsaw; And the Isles of Scilly pencil and pencil sharpener deluxe set. Our friends and family were, understandably, delighted!
\nMaxing-out your baggage allowance on a helicopter is surprisingly straightforward. We discovered this at check-in when both of our cases — now laden with souvenirs — were well over the 15 kg limit. Luckily the airport staff were as laid-back as every other islander we’d met, and waved us through.
\nSt.Mary’s Airport is by far the smallest terminal I’ve ever flown from. It’s miniature waiting area probably never any busier than it was now. A few people milled around, while others enjoyed hot drinks from styrofoam cups.
\nWhen the time came, we were called into a small side room with the other passengers for our flight. Here, we were shown a short safety film from the late 80s. Then we heard it. A helicopter coming into land. The great throb-throb-throb of its propeller blades displacing the air.
\nOne of British International’s two Sikorsky S-61 helicopters landed with the slightest bounce. The side door flung open, and the passengers disembarked, ducking instinctively under the rotor blades.
\n\nThen it was our turn. Our air steward lead the way out onto the runway. We ducked under the rotors too, clinging desperately to lose items of clothing. Of course, we felt like rock stars.
\nOnce belts were fastened, the door was shut behind us with a reassuringly heavy click. Not that you can hear much above the roar of the engine, which now wound up ready for take-off. We felt an increase in the side-to-side wobble, and suddenly we were moving. The helicopter’s nose tipped forward and we swept up and along the runway. It’s exhilarating! The raw power that’s required to push this massive metal tube into the air must be immense. You feel every last joule of it.
\nThe view is spectacular. Passengers lucky enough to get window seats were furiously taking as many photos as they could. It’s too loud for conversation, so we just gesticulated to each other, pointing at things we recognised.
\nFlying at 150 mph, it only takes 20 minutes from St.Marys to Penzance. All too soon the islands disappeared over the horizon, and Lands End appeared in the port side windows. Moments later we were touching down at Penzance heliport.
\nAnd that was that. Suddenly we were back to reality. Cars and people everywhere. Waiting for our bags, Katie asked me what I thought. She’d been extolling the virtues of Scilly since we’d met. “I’m in love”, I said. Or something like that. That’s the problem with memories, isn’t it? It’s sometimes hard to tell them apart from dreams.
\n", "date_published": "2018-01-10T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/68/sea-king.jpg" }, { "id": "/articles/into-eternity/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/into-eternity/", "content_html": "There are some movies that continue to work on your mind long after the credits have rolled. For me Into Eternity: A Film for the Future by writer / director Michael Madsen is one such movie.
\nWhat do you do with waste from Nuclear reactors that will remain deadly to all life for 100,000 years? It’s a great swathe of time, unimaginable to most, that spans more than ten times the length of our entire history.
\nInto Eternity takes us down into the huge pit that is Finlands answer to this question. Onkalo (Finish for “hiding place”) is a massive century-long engineering project that is designed to entomb the waste, 500m down in the bedrock.
\nThe film’s narrative speaks to those in the future who may have disturbed the repository. “We need you to know. That this place should not be disturbed. That you should stay away from this place. Then you will be safe.”
\nBut how would you communicate with an unknown person, possibly thousands of year in the future? You could leave markers that try to explain the danger, that use pictograms rather than any written language forms. But how do you insure that you’ll be understood, that this person won’t see religious significance in this place, or think that there is a treasure to be found here?
\nMaybe the best thing to do is to leave nothing, fill-in the hole you’ve made and let nature reclaim the surface. Maybe forgetting is the best way to protect the future.
\nI strongly encourage you to seek out this beautifully hunting documentary.
\n", "date_published": "2017-05-09T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/65/cover.jpg" }, { "id": "/articles/sohn-live-at-the-electric-in-brixton/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/sohn-live-at-the-electric-in-brixton/", "content_html": "We’d been hankering to see SOHN for a while, ever since I’d played his first album, Tremors, almost to death last summer. So when his second album, Rennen, was released earlier this year it meant an album tour was sure to follow.
\nSo last week Katie and I braved a journey on Southern Rail up to the old Fridge Club (now The Electric) in Brixton: A club slightly too small to accommodate a sold-out SOHN crowed. Katie and I tucked ourselves in neatly at the back.
\n\nThe smoke machines belched with great gusto as SOHN took the stage. Seated behind a huge synth, he immediately launched into Tremmors, his powerful, pitch-perfect voice silencing even the most persistent talker.
\nHe seemed to delight in giving each song some kind of embellishment: Whether that be an extended middle-eight or noodling around at the end, it was there in every song. It was mesmerising. I love live music, mainly for the sense of shared-experience. Everyone was swept along on the wave of SOHN’s synths, it put me in mind of a shared religious experience, everyone in enraptured ensemble.
\nI was also massively impressed by the beautiful set design: An arrangement of parallel strip-lights that changed colour and pulsed on and off in step with the music. They were the perfect focal point as SOHN plied his wares on stage.
\n\nSince a small person came to live in our house, our opportunity for evenings out has been severely limited. It’s a rare thing when the stars align to allow us to have a night away from home without Roo, so we have to get it right when we do. We defiantly got it right with SOHN. 10/10.
\n", "date_published": "2017-03-10T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/62/sohn-at-the-electric.jpg" }, { "id": "/articles/lightpainting/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/lightpainting/", "content_html": "How I persuaded Mary to stand in the freezing cold while I flung sparks at her is still a mystery. Nonetheless, after the sun went down this evening we ventured to Swanbourne Lake in Arundel.
\n\nI’d scouted this location a couple of weeks ago. That evening I’d managed to fire off a few shots in the old boat-house before being chased away by an angry swan. This time we ventured further around the lake and found a spot where several low trees grow out into the lake, their spider-leg branches submerged here and there.
\nThe goal for tonight was that staple of light-painting; “Sheltering from Sparks”. The key to this photo is having a long enough shutter speed to capture the sparks and paint in your subject, but not so long that any movement picked up. Mary was excellent at holding still, but holding an umbrella and yourself perfectly still for ten seconds is almost impossible. In the end we found that an exposure of 5-6 seconds was the longest Mary could manage without moving at all.
\nThere are probably other ways that this photo could be done, but as there was only two of us, I had to start off the timer, light the wire-wool and spin the sparks. So, rather than painting Mary in separately, I set up two flashlights just far enough away to gently build-up the light over the course of the exposure.
\nI’m pretty pleased with the results of this evening’s outing, and now that I know I have a willing model I might be calling on her services again for some other photo ideas I have. Lucky her…
\n", "date_published": "2015-02-12T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/48/IMG_9256.jpg" }, { "id": "/articles/rabbit-towers/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/rabbit-towers/", "content_html": "It must be something many newly married couples do; Put off the children in favor of a pet. As it was with us, 3 years ago, when we arrived home with a cardboard box containing two small, very frightened rabbits.
\nThey soon settled in and set about crapping in every corner and chewing all the wires, including clean though the power cable for my brand new Apple laptop. I think they lasted a whole week as house rabbits before we moved them outside to more suitable accommodation.
\nAs they got older, they grew to hate each other. This was funny at first, watching them hump each-other in a bid for dominance, but pretty soon this turned into some really nasty fights. The lack of rabbit psychologists in the local area meant there was nothing else for it but separate hutches and a time-share of the family run.
\nIt’s now evident that they’ve been the perfect focus for my hobby of “building shit in the garden”, as Katie puts it. There is a singular pleasure in picturing something in your head, then knocking a few nails through a few bits of wood and seeing it all 3D like in real-reality.
\nToday, they’ve upscaled to a bunny des-rez in the shed. These are large hutches, one stacked on the other. They each have connecting tunnels to the outside, the bottom one leading, via a section of tube, to a run in the garden. The top to a ramp-box which allows a rab to descend into another run.
\nOf course they still get a bounce around the garden when we’re around to watch them, but it’s nice knowing they have access to some outside space and a few toys while we’re out at work.
\nWith the summer coming up I had the idea to fit a warm-air extraction system in the shed — powered by a 12V battery, charged by a solar panel — but we’ll wait and see about that one…
\n", "date_published": "2014-08-04T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/44/rabs2.jpg" }, { "id": "/articles/european-adventure-week-three/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/european-adventure-week-three/", "content_html": "Our final week, a last hurrah, and a dash across Switzerland, Germany, Belgium and France.
\nIt was the briefest of interludes into Switzerland, still, in this country at least we managed to abide by the law and buy a Vignette at the border.
\nOur destination was a campsite not far from the northern lake town of Lacarno. After the damp squib that was our final day in Italy, the well-appointed campsite Lido Mappo was most welcome. And, what luck! A break in the weather which allowed Katie and I to get our tent up and once again double our living space. That evening we paid a brief (but expensive) visit to the campsite bar, then cooked-up a pasta-storm back at chez-Roobottom.
\nWe awoke on Tuesday to beautiful sunshine. Using a combination of extremely poor Italian and much better English (on the part of the campsite staff) we’d established the the thing to do 'round these parts was to take the air with a brisk walk into Lacarno.
\nBeing near the border Lacarno has brilliant mixture of Italian Joie de vivre and Swiss preciseness, that for us slightly obsessive compulsive types, is infinitely appearing. We ate pizza in the square before hiking up the many almost vertical side-streets to explore.
\n\nI think the most abiding memory of this place is the view over the lake. I don’t really think there’s anything to separate this place from Lake Garda, it’s just different, but equally beautiful. I managed to get some pictures that almost capture some small part of it’s beauty. I imagine it’s hard to communicate the feeling you associate with a place through pictures or words alone. It’s probably why those that do are few and far between. I’m certainly not counting myself there, if you were wondering.
\n\nIn the afternoon we took the camper up the mountain to the Verzasca Dam where apparently, if you’re so inclined, you can do a 220m bungee jump just like James Bond in Goldeneye. As we weren’t feeling that adventurous we made do with scaring ourselves by gawping over the fence at the dizzying drop. Why, after seeing that, you’d want to tie a piece of elastic around your legs and jump off I really couldn’t guess.
\n\nOn Wednesday we moved on to Germany, excited for our next adventure, but with the glimpse of the heavy heart that always accompanies a return to reality after a spectacular holiday. And spectacular this holiday has certainly been. It seems surreal at this point we’ve already driven nearly 2,000 miles. Pat on the head, van, for not letting us down — Thank goodness we didn’t buy a VW.
\nIt’s a sign of how far north we now were that we saw the first British numberplate for almost two weeks. Then another, and another. By the time we arrived at Trend Camping we were surrounded by the buggers.
\n\nThe campsite had a rather nice bar which severed traditional German fare and local ales. So, despite the mud, it got the thumbs up from us. Especially when we discovered the huge power-showers, with massaging side-jets and everything. Luxury.
\nOn Thursday we used the free bus and train pass that the campsite provided to visit the nearby Wolfach, a jolly little place that was once the hub of log-rafting and home to the pom-pom hat.
\nThe center of the town is lovely, with cobbled streets and shops full of delicious looking things. It’s surrounded by glorious grassy hills and meadows, the kind you might imagine yourself running through into the arms of a Bavarian maiden. If you were so inclined.
\nAnd then it was Friday. Only two days left of our holiday. How did that happen? Oh well, we thought, nothing for it but to spend some time in Belgium.
\nWhat an amazing find for our last night. Camping Ile de Faigneul is a site on it’s own island in the middle of a river. We’d have loved to spend more time in this tranquil place, but alas this was just an overnight stop on our way to Calais, the tunnel and home.
\n\nWe spent that last night as we did some many others, eating pasta, playing cards and watching Mad Men.
\nSo it was with heavy hearts that we made our way thorough France to the Eurotunnel. We just had time to shop in the insanely large supermarket complex in Calais before boarding our train back to normality.
\n\nThat was it then. The end of a fantastic adventure that was entirely too short. It got dark at some point while were under the sea. Emerging onto cold, damp British soil we felt ready for a bed that wasn’t slightly too short. Home then. We’ll see you next time Europe, next time.
\n", "date_published": "2013-09-22T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/43/boat-on-lake-magorie.jpg" }, { "id": "/articles/european-adventure-week-two/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/european-adventure-week-two/", "content_html": "I’m sitting in the shade of a tree, providing some protection from the blazing mid-afternoon sun. Headphones in, I’m listening to Fink’s “Sort of Revolution” extremely loud and enjoying an ice-cold beer. I lean my head back, and close my eyes against the sun as it dapples through the leaves above me. In the distance are the mountains that circle Lake Garda. Sparse clouds are suspended, seemingly motionless over the azure blue waters. Fuelled by the warmth of the sun, the melodic beat of the music and the haze from the alcohol I feel an almost zen-like sense of well-being. “This is perfect” I thought.
\nIn contrast to week one, when we’d travelled through five countries, we decided to slow the pace a little. After an epic drive our first stop was the Northern lake town of Torbole, the windsurfers paradise, and Camping Al Porto. It felt Newquay-esq where board-shorts seemed to be the must-have fashion item of the season. The campsite was rather busier than those we’d been used to, but we managed to fit our van and awning on a shaded pitch thirty-seconds walk from the lake.
\n\nOn the occasion of our first night in Italy, we did what we have the last two trips here: Find the most touristy looking restaurant and order the biggest pizza they have and a glass of the local beer. In this case it was Forst, brewed “just up the road” we were told.
\nThe next day we had ideas of taking windsurfing lesson but the wind didn’t seem to want to blow. It was probably too hot, so like us it decided to spend the day sunbathing and exploring the town. We also finally got the BBQ to work despite the crappy “just light the bag” charcoal, thanks to some German firelighters that almost took my face off.
\nIt was at this point we cheated a little by spending a few nights in a hotel south of the lake in Desenzano del Garda. “You know” said Katie “I’m loving being able to get out of the shower and being able to keep my feet dry.” I knew what she meant. I’m not proud to admit it but we really did wallow in the luxurious of it all.
\nPeeling ourselves away from the hotel pool we ventured down the road to Sirmione. Navigating the spit of land that forms a sort of natural pier into the centre of the southern bank of the lake — we parked and ventured over the bridge into down-town Sirmione. Here we indulged our inner tourist once again by eating gelato and watching the sunset.
\n\nHaving made a large dent in our holiday funds we checked out of the hotel and moved north around the lake to Lazise. Here we encountered the full glory of the Italian campsite. When you’re a good few kilometers from the centre on the main road you start to notice the signs. At first a just few, then more with increasing ferocity until they line the bank of the lake one after the other. You’re not, as we discovered, just expected to pick one and check-in. We spent an interesting couple of hours driving from site to site inspecting toilet blocks, pools, children’s entertainment and on-site bars before we finally gave in and just picked one.
\n\nHere we stayed and for four glorious days enjoyed the private beach and exploring the beautiful town. We swam, snorkeled and sunbathed. Ate gelato, pizza and even brought a fridge-magnet. No messing about, this was a proper holiday.
\nAlas, it was time to move on. Switzerland and our final week beaconed. We have a week left and just over two-thousand kilometers back to the Euro-tunnel at Calais.
\nTo be continued…
\n", "date_published": "2013-09-15T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/42/torbole.jpg" }, { "id": "/articles/european-adventure-week-one/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/european-adventure-week-one/", "content_html": "Being of noble birth Katie and I are taking in the sights of Europe on a three week grand tour.
\nHowever, having a chequebook that is of more moderate means we decided to conduct our trip in our campervan.
\nAs I write this, we are driving from Salzburg to Lake Garda through the Alps. The scenery is breathtaking and a road sign tells me it’s 27 degrees, perfect driving weather, if our air con still worked.
\n\nAt this point we’ve covered 1,703 km and aside from a little smoke up some of the steeper sections of motorway our van is performing well. From our home in the south of England we took the tunnel from Dover to Calais, then to an overnight stop in northern France at Saint-Amanda-les-eaux.
\n\nTo be honest, it wasn’t the most spectacular campsite, but it was clean and spent a very pleasant evening drinking beer and watching some men playing boules, one of whom looked suspiciously like Paul Whitehouse.
\nFeeling bolstered by our success driving on the other side of the road, we decided to head for Baden-Baden and Camplingplatz Adam the next day; a distance of just over 600km. Actually, the drive turned out to be pretty straight-forward aside from one incident when we somehow missed the road closed signs and found ourselves driving over freshly prepared gravel, workmen shaking their heads in disbelief as we passed.
\n\nWe stayed in the beautiful campgrounds for three days, swimming in the lake and generally not doing much of anything. On the second day we managed to peel ourselves away and drove into Baden-Baden, where we partook of some very European things like eating outside and strolling along the promenade. Our Britishness didn’t like that very much and forced us onto the Dotto train so we’d feel more like tourists again. Phew.
\n\nSad as we were to leave, Salzburg beckoned, so we packed up the van and set off. This was another sweaty drive along Euro-route 52. Six hours later we were lost in the city. In situations like this Katie stays calm and I tend to overreact (a little). Ahem. Anyway, luckily on this occasion Katie was behind the wheel and did a sterling job of navigating the 5pm traffic until we finally reached Panorama Camping.
\nWow, what a site! Brilliant views and with WC and show blocks that wouldn’t have been out of place in a five-star hotel. It’s also here that I first discovered the local brew, Stiegl.
\nThe next day (despite really enjoying the beer) we made an early start into Salzburg. I’d once been here on a school trip but the only thing I remember with any clarity was the McDonalds. Katie kept insisting that the hills were alive with the sound of music, but I wasn’t sure what she meant by this.
\nArriving by bus into Mozartsteg we made our way through the square, past the stalls selling Bavarian hats and up the hill to the fortress Hohensalzburg. After exploring for a bit we sat, pretzel and beer in hand, admiring the stunning view over the mountains.
\n\nNext, I discovered a little more about those musical hills with a Sound of Music themed bus tour of the city. I secretly really enjoyed this ride around the sights of the city made (even more) famous by the film. We ended our day with a plate of Snitzel at the Stiegl brewery restaurant with (yup, you guessed it) a refreshing cold beer.
\n\nNext is Lake Garda, it’s already hotter than Austria, so onto Italy!
\nTo be continued…
\n", "date_published": "2013-09-07T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/41/france.jpg" }, { "id": "/articles/a-new-website/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/a-new-website/", "content_html": "Back in 2001, while I was still in midst of a degree that didn’t really teach me anything, I built the first version of roobottom.com on a crappy second-hand PC.
\nOriginally a “Flash playground” (oh, weren’t those the days) I redesigned and repurposed it into a blog around 2005. I’d also started freelancing, launching roodesign around the same time.
\nThat was twelve years ago when I was slightly shorter in the tooth and smaller of belly and working for myself, eventually making the move down south, starting full-time in London. All this rather took up my time and thoughts of a personal web project went the same way as oh-so-many pies.
\nBut a man can dream, and dream I did: first of a CSS3 wonderland with garish colours and effects galore. Then, deciding that blogs were entirely too much hassle, of a stark Neverland consisting purely of some witty paragraph of text and a few links to social networks I hated.
\nEventually I went back to basics and fleshed out exactly what I wanted: Somewhere to write the occasional blog post, showcase my work and post my photographs.
\nI built my first website because it was fun. I then got a job making websites, again because it was enjoyable. I’m lucky that I get paid for what is essentially a hobby. I think that makes me a “professional” but the jury is still out on that one.
\nSo this site should be the most fun of all, right? I decided to abandon any highfalutin design ideas and just stick to a few core principals that would allow me to grow this site organically.
\nFirst was the logo. I’d been sketching some ideas around a typographic “roo” for a while. A kangaroo was also an obvious choice. The final result is the emblem you see at the top of this page. Not perfect by any means, but a good starting point. I’ll no doubt change it as the site grows.
\n\nSecondly to start with core elements then work out from there. Creating a pleasant and easy-to-use website is key to this idea, but it’s more than that. By letting the content do the work and keeping the design as subtle as possible I’m striving for (but probably rarely achieving) a browsing experience that feels effortless.
\nI’ve chosen Kirby as my CMS, this has so far proven to be the perfect fit, allowing me to write content in the fantastic iA Writer using Markdown so I always start with uncluttered, unformatted text.
\nAnd finally, stop procrastination and just launch the bloody thing! I’ve spent entirely too many late nights debugging css to wait any longer. It’s a personal project that’ll grow. So here it is, warts and all.
\n", "date_published": "2013-06-01T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/39/book.jpg" }, { "id": "/articles/snowdonia-slateman-triathlon/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/snowdonia-slateman-triathlon/", "content_html": "Yesterday I swam in a freezing-cold lake; rode my bike up a mountain pass; then ran around an old slate mine.
\nWhen Raz and Matt suggested it last year it seemed like such a good idea; they’d just seen the 2012 Slateman on TV and were raring to go. After some gental persuasion I reluctantly agreed to the shorter sprint distance of 400m swim, 20km cycle and a 6km run.
\nIn the end neither Raz or Matt could make the race due to reasons undisclosed. Luckily my friend Christian was entered for the full distance, so we packed up the van, banged on the tunes and made the 6 hour trek up to Wales.
\n\nRace day dawned and we made our weary way from our campsite to the lake ready for the briefing. The sun was just starting to clear away the early-morning clouds as we wheeled our bikes into Transition. I laid out my kit the best I could then, remebering a tip I’d read on a website, walked around mentally tracing my steps from the swim exit to the bike.
\nI really wasn’t sure what to expect, especially when it came to the swim and the water temperature. I’d done a few sea-swims, but the lake was around 12℃, a little colder than I was used to. I needn’t have worried though, despited a little bit of cold-shock I managed to complete the swim in 12m26s, surprisingly in the middle of the field.
\nTransition was a weird experience, I did manage to remove my wetsuit without too much falling over myself but then forgot my race belt and had to embarrassingly run back from the mount line to collect it.
\nIt was such a relief to get the swim and T1 out of the way that I may have gone out a little too fast on the bike. Still I managed to maintain a decent pace and completed the cycle in 57m30s.
\nT2 was an altogether more relaxed affair and I was feeling pretty good knowing the end was in sight. I exited transition onto the run corse feeling pretty please with myself.
\n\nThat was until I hit the first climb. I was pleased to see I wasn’t the only one walking and as we went higher the views more than made up for the burning calves. With some really fun, fast downhill sections the run finally led me back past transition to the finish line. I felt elated that I’d manage to finish my first triathlon in 1h54m47s.
\n\nThere was a unique atmosphere I’ve not felt in any run or cycle event I’ve taken part in. I’m not sure if all Tri events are like this, or whether it was just the Slateman. Kudos to the organisers, it was a fantastic day. I always felt I knew where I should be, what I should be doing and (most importantly) that my kit was safe.
\nIf you’d like to give it a go entries for 2014 open on 22nd July.
\n", "date_published": "2013-05-20T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "https://roobottom.com/assets/images/articles/38/slateman_2.jpg" }, { "id": "/articles/my-black-dog/", "url": "https://roobottom.com/articles/my-black-dog/", "content_html": "Churchill used to call his bouts with depression his “Black Dog”. A huge shaggy dog that would visit him for a while.
\nI really didn’t know what depression meant, I always thought it was something people said when they were a bit sad about something. It wasn’t until my first year at University that I felt the crushing grip of depression.
\nFor those of you that don’t know; depression isn’t feeling a little sad. It’s a deep dark pit of despair, it grips you like a vice, squeezing your stomach sending poison round your body. That first time at University was exactly this. I couldn’t face doing anything. I didn’t care what I looked like, I couldn’t interact with people anymore, something had broken inside me and I didn’t know what it was or how to make it better. Slowly, so slowly I came out of it. I floundered there for a while, but it did get better.
\nThat was eight years ago. I remember for the longest time afterwards I was scared that It would come back, that the very act of being scared of it was going to cause it. Fear of fear itself. I’ve had other bouts of it, mostly at University, but always come out the other side, perhaps a bit stronger for the experience.
\nThat brings me to today. And I’m feeling low again. I wouldn’t say that I was depressed because I can remember that feeling, and that was a lot worse. This is sporadic, occasionally punching me in the stomach when I’m least expecting it. I do know I’ll get better. Past experience teaches me that I probably wont feel like this forever. I’ve just got to keep telling myself that.
\n", "date_published": "2006-01-30T00:00:00.000Z", "image": "" } ] }