The Beachy Boys

Damn You, BBC, Damn You!
Why oh why does the Beeb's website always have a number of interesting articles first thing in the morning when your humble scribe is in a rush, and cannot spend time on them?  Today is no different - here's an article on the Norks boasting about how their Ding Dong missiles can reach as many as - and there's no time.
     Bah!
     Fortunately, here's one I prepared earlier.  "How do you build a lighthouse?" a question we must have all asked ourselves at one time or another.  Or is it just me?
     The article springs from the auction of a set of photographs that show the construction of the Beachy Head lighthouse between 1900 and 1902.  Here is a very interesting sample of same.  Art?

   As you can see, an iron platform has been erected next to the lighthouse, to facilitate construction; more stable and robust than a ship, in the circumstances.  This is where the workers and supplies would be winched down to from the cliff-top.
     Also visible is one of the granite blocks used to actually build the lighthouse, which were numbered in order to ensure they got assembled in the right order.
     Most importantly of all is what I instantly recognised as a "coffer dam", the keyhole-shaped structure surrounding the lighthouse foundations. This is to keep the sea at bay (ha!  Do you see - O you do) and protect the workers.

Literally, beavering away

     Scale makes the dam seem a little insubstantial, so I thought we'd wake Art with a hot coal and make him work -
     Actually quite hefty, wouldn't you say?  And there are the Beachy Boys, hard at work.  Which brings us to the end of this Intro, so it's time to send the motley between ships in a Breeches Buoy!*

Duck, You Punk - It's Flying Space Junk!
Another Beeb teaser that I couldn't concentrate on because of time restraints.  Space junk sounds like a bad Seventies funk act, when it's actually a serious issue of concern to rocketry experts, and eventually you and I.  The thing is, you see, that even very small objects in orbit are normally travelling at very high speeds, which means that the terminal velocity of an impact between a bolt and the ISS can be horrendously high.**
     Here an aside.  I remember reading a story illustrated by Trev Goring in 2000AD, about an unglamourous orbital junk-disposal spaceship, which whizzed off orbital rubbish to the Disposal Zone.  Our hero inadvertently whizzed off an alien directional device that was allowing their invasion fleet to home in on target Earth, so the invasion fleet blithely followed it into the Disposal Zone.  Which was the Sun.***

Proof!

     Back to Beeby.  They reported that there is a new satellite about to be launched, that will deploy a variety of Space Hoover, testing new technologies to collect up space junk before we get snowed in by the stuff.  Various  nets and harpoons, it seems, will be used.
     I see a niche here for the Hoover of the Seas (a.k.a. the shark) to work up some positive publicity!

Well - not quite what I had in mind ...

Danger - Replicators!
If you are unaware of these handy devices, they inhabit the starship 'Enterprise' of the 24th Century, and apparently have the ability to create anything at a verbal request.  Normally we see this restricted to "Tea, Earl Grey, hot," ordered by Captain Thespian.  No!  Sorry, Captain Picard.  Picard.  Get it right, Conrad.
     Now, as I mentioned yesterday, I am both creative and evil, and my imagination immediately began to wonder what mischief, if not outright mayhem, one could manage with a replicator.
     "Replicator - a kilogram of Californium, pronto!" might work, except I'm not sure what the critical mass for Cf98 is - maybe "Replicator - one hundred grams of Californium, pronto!" as a safety measure.  Also, avoid requesting "Plutonium - twelve kilograms of, pronto!" since I know what the critical mass of Pu94 is - 11 kilograms.  You'd not get a chance to discover your error with a replication request like that.
     "But Conrad, there are bound to be safeguards built in," I hear you object.
     Well, yeah, some interfering piker is always around to spoil your fun. 

Conrad Is Happy
Or as happy as I get.  Can we prod Art into consciousness long enough to get a picture?

Positively uproarious

     I am happy because I remembered that a key character from a long-forgotten work of fiction was named "Rickenharp", whereas last week I was looking him up under "Rickenbacker" and getting lots of hits about a South Canadian pilot of the First Unpleasantness.
     So!  I discovered that the novel in question, a dystopian sci-fi work, is called "Eclipse" and is by John Shirley.  I realise this is not exactly world-shaking information, but it settles a nagging gripe of mine about the title and author.^




*  This doesn't sound bad, but there are sharks.  Hungry sharks.
**  No mention of nuts.  That would be cheap humour.
***  Not a mistake I'm going to make.
^  Or - is it a griping nag?  Only you can decide!