The House Husband

I read with interest today (in The Times) that the inventor of the Black Box Flight Recorder died on Monday. He really had to work hard to get anyone to buy into the idea but he really believed it was the way forward. A way to record, not just the state of a planes instruments but also a record of the talk in and between the cockpit and the ground.

His wasn’t the first invented, though. In 1939 two French chaps made one that used photography. While their device was tested in France for 30 years, it was never used in commercial flights and it didn’t record any voices.

David Warren (his full name was David Ronald de Mey Warren) was an Australian. He was the first child of European descent to be born on the island of Groote Eylandt, off Arnhem Land. From here went to Tasmania then Sydney and ended up in Melbourne where he became established as an electronics expert.

Although Warren’s device was first created as a prototype in 1957 it wasn’t introduced into commercial planes until 1960 following a crash in Mackay.

It was originally called the Red Egg (because it looked like one) but, for some reason not known, it became the Black Box.

He lived a long and rewarding life, dying at the age of 85. I bet he was very pleased when, in 2008, Qantas named one of their Airbus A380s after him.

The reason I took to his story is the fact that he perceived how important his device could be and didn’t give up even though most people in the industry were not interested. A very important man who was awarded the Order of Australia in 2002.

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As well as reading The Times, I had lunch with Dawn today. We had a jolly good natter while Polly nattered to the garden fence and Basil relaxed on the lawn. Once the rain had fled, the day was sparkling and lovely.

Today I saw two Cansfields. Here’s a photo of one of them:

Dawn in the good room which is rapidly becoming a library

I popped over to Liphook on another one of those mercy dashes I’m so good at. The ones involving IT problems which I can never seem to fix. Which is all of them. Actually, that’s not entirely true. The time I went over to rip out an old hard drive I was very successful.

Anyway, the problem was with a laptop that just refused to see the router and, therefore, was bereft of any Internet of any kind. It was my first exposure to Windows Vista and now I know why I hate it so. No wonder there was such fanfare and exhultation after the arrival of Windows 7. I’ll not go into all things I hate about it as it would probably make a longer entry than the snooker one.

But before I failed to fix the IT problem, we went to The Mill at Shottermill for a lovely lunch and a pint of fff. It’s odd but when pubs chalk up the beer from this brewery they write ‘Triple fff Alton Best’ which, unless my maths is worse than it usually is, a total of nine fs or fff fff fff. The brewery is called Triple f or fff. Not that it matters much. Their beer is all that matters. And it’s very, very nice. The brewery is just down the road near Alton.

Lunch over, we popped over to Liphook so I could pretend that I knew what I was doing and managed to score a mug of coffee and a mauling by Basil. That’s a friendly mauling which is more than I can say for Polly! Apart from barking all the time I was there (almost), she just barked! Crazy dog. Her tail wags all the time too. Dawn reckons she’s undecided. I think she’s right.

The photo is to show Nicktor’s Billy construction. I think I mentioned in a previous post about his gargantuan effort to erect 400 IKEA Billy bookcases in the good room and there is the evidence! Dawn was gracious enough to pose so I could splash her all over the Internet. Behind that smile she’s all sufferance.

And, of course, it being a Tuesday, Nicktor is due soon for his weekly dose of Gaz Movie Madness. But first, the pub. And I think I hear his gentle pitter patter on the door just…about…now.

When we lived in Haslemere, we became aware that, because of the surrounding countryside (mostly woods and hills), we were locked in our own little world of weather. Of a morning, it was imperative that I note the London weather before deciding what to wear because the weather in Woking was always different. I should add that Woking is only about 24 miles from Haslemere. All of this was brought back to me today when I once more visited Haslemere.

As I left Farnham, the day was a mix of grey and sleet – a truly grim day. As we (me and the three other passengers on the number 19 bus) trundled through Frensham, white began to appear where it remained on the countryside. This, in itself was not unusual. As we crossed the A3 at Hindhead, the snow started and the white either side of the road was thickening. By the time I left the bus at Shottermill, snow laid all about, thick and even. It was like I’d travelled to another country.

The reason I’d popped over to Haslemere today was to have lunch with Dawn (my second Cansfield this week). I haven’t seen her for ages while I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time with her husband recently. My first task, however, was to take the hard drive out of their old PC. And this meant braving the vicious Polly.

Polly is a Westie, just like Basil, but unlike Basil, she hates everyone. She barks and bites and snaps and…well, she’s generally pretty antisocial. That is until she calms down, then she’s a lovely little dog. So I had to wait outside while Dawn put Polly behind bars. Basil, of course, came running up to say hello, all shaking with pleasure. Secretly, I think he was looking for Mirinda, who he adores, but he always hides his disappointment quite well. Polly remained behind bars while I went upstairs to de-brain the PC. Having had a sticky at their new kitchen, which is LOVELY! The cooker had me very jealous.

Apart from getting covered in the inevitable dust, the hard drive was a doddle and I soon had it cradled in my hand, telling Dawn to put it in a box somewhere and forget about it. I also told her the computer horror story of the man who’s information was retrieved from a PC he’d taken to the dump but which had ended up in Africa.

I foolishly offered to fix her read wiper but my enthusiasm was a bit hardier than my automotive repair skills and it beat me. Sad and defeated by a silly little bit of plastic, we then went to the Mill for lunch.

I love the Mill. It’s a wonderful, very English pub. And they had Alton fff as a guest ale. Excellent choice. We enjoyed some of this, me more than Dawn…who was driving. Lunch was lovely though I think I hogged the conversation a bit, reminiscing over theatre days…which always makes me miss it…for a little while.

I then took the bus back home. Again, the snow stopped as we crossed the gridlocked (as always) A3. I was greeted over-enthusiastically by the poodles who, no doubt, wanted to know why I’d been to visit Basil and not taken them.