Shame, Shame, Shame

Rugby (the only real sport).

Wales played arch-enemy England on Saturday. England won the match by far too many points to not enough (30 - 17).

The score did not adequately reflect the less than mediocre spectacle provided by both sides. After the match, the players, coaches and managers should have been made to stand with heads bowed in front of the posts, begging the Great God Rugger for forgiveness for such a pathetic display.

Welsh lock Alun-Wyn Jones should have been red carded for his unsportsmanlike, ruthless, callous, and quite deliberate trip. Such behaviour has no place on the rugby pitch, no matter how much it is condoned by namby-pamby soccer players. But apart from Jones's unforgivable tactics, the two teams provided nothing more than a pathetic display of handling errors, unnecessary kicking, poor ball skills, and lack of insight. The players could just as well have stayed in the changing-rooms during the first half, leaving the ref to jog up and down the pitch, perhaps co-ordinating his movements with those of the linesmen—the spectacle would have been just as exciting and enthralling as that put on by the players: a pathetic display of hopelessness.

These are supposed to be professional rugby players? The best of their countries? I went to a rugby-playing school (Woolverstone Hall) in the 1960s. Our sports master was, thankfully, a Welshman called Mr Evans (well, I never), who stood for no nonsense and knew his rugby inside out. If Mr Evans were alive today, he'd explode, seeing such a collection of basic handling errors, lack of vision, and quite unnecessary kicking. The two teams would be down on Orwell Field, practising passing, dummying, side-stepping and all manner of other things rugby, up and down the field for hours on end until they can do it blindly. And no dinner, either.

And as for Alun-Wyn Jones, he'd never play again.

It seems that those who guide the sport have got their knickers in a twist, thinking that rugby is all a question of power. Sumo wrestling it's not, for heaven's sake! Okay, the forwards need to be big (well, big-ish), but the halves and three-quarters do not need to be the large and often muscle-bound entities so often seen nowadays. They must be agile, fast, able to run with he ball, to side-step, to dart in and out, to sell a dummy… Oh, and for this to occur, the ball has to be passed out from the scrum, via the scrum half (who really must know how to pass) to the fly-half and on via the centres to the wing. And line up! And back up! And do all the basic things that rugby requires. And forget the idea that brute force alone will win a match.

Come back, Mr Evans. All is forgiven.

12 BiP (Before iPad)

On Friday 27 February 1998, Apple Computer announced that its Newton handheld computing platform was dead.

If you don't know the Newton platform, you don't know one of the finest, if premature, platforms ever.

A prototype of Newton was shown to the press in May 1992 (18 BiP) by John Sculley, CEO of Apple. In August 1993 (17 BiP) the first Newton MessagePad was launched. That's a very long time ago in computing terms.

The Newton Messagepad was ahead of its time with its wireless communications ability, its approach to data handling, its intelligence, and its use of handwriting recognition, all packaged in an easily held and highly usable device.

Well, to be honest, the original MessagePad was perhaps a little difficult to hold and could not really be carried easily in a pocket. Furthermore, its handwriting recognition was dodgy at best and there were other software problems, too. But Newton was something completely different, something wonderful, something you just had to have—if you could afford it—even if it did seem rather like a beta version.

The Newton operating system was highly advanced and protected the user from its inner workings almost completely. In addition, the user was basically unaware of any file system and just worked away, with the Newton itself providing exchange of data between applications, or, more precisely, between tasks.

The shortcomings of the original MessagePad 100 were addressed to some extent in the MessagePad 110, which was released in early 1994. Unfortunately, the price remained prohibitively high, but now at least third party software was beginning to arrive and the Newton platform seemed to be sound.

In late 1995, the MessagePad 120 was released, along with a new version of the Newton operating system (Newton OS 2.0). This was followed by the MessagePad 130, which included a backlit display and still more memory, providing performance improvement.

Then, in early 1997 (13 BiP), the MessagePad 2000 was released. With a much faster processor, a larger backlit screen (320x480 pixels), an extra PC card slot, as well as the ability to perform digital voice recording and to attach an external keyboard, the MP2000 seemed to be the ultimate hand-held computer. Web surfing, e-mailing, Works applications, vastly improved handwriting recognition… Who needed a laptop?

Well, Apple thought that someone did, for at the same time, Apple released a sort of clamshell version of the MessagePad, called the eMate 300 and it looked like something out of science-fiction, with its strange shape and its translucent green plastic cover. It was basically the MP2000 in a case with a built-in keyboard. The eMate was aimed primarily at the education market, but found favour in other areas, too.

With four times the memory of the MP2000 and better networking capabilities, the MessagePad 2100 was released in late 1997. It's a sweet machine, even now.

By that time, however, Steve Jobs had been called back to Apple and he decided to kill off the Newton. Why? Nobody really knows, though Bastiens believed it was a simple business decision: cut costs and make Apple profitable again.True, Newton had been unprofitable, with huge development costs and relatively little in profits.

In any case, Apple dropped a product that was years ahead of anything else. Perhaps it was too far ahead to be fully understood by its potential customers at the time (and, indeed, most commentators seemed to have a fixation with the hand-writing recognition, while ignoring the more important aspects of usability, connectivity, data persistency…).

But Newton lives on in the hundreds, probably even thousands of users who still use the machines regularly, from the MP100 to the much loved MP2100. They are used in WiFi environments, for emailing, for everything they were originally designed for and for a lot more (for example, I and many other users have set up our Newtons to act as Web servers). Enthusiasts continue to develop software for Newton OS and even a Newton OS limitation that causes it to interpret the date wrongly from 2010 has been overcome by a recently developed patch. Search the Web and you will find plenty of sites devoted to Newton, including whole deposits of software and mines of useful information. The NewtonTalk Mailing List keeps fans informed about new developments and the more experienced members of the list are always willing to help newbies.

Newton might have been killed off in 12 BiP, but it certainly didn't die.


Coda

Now, 12 years later, a new sort of MessagePad has been announced by Apple, called the iPad. Maybe the name is a nod to the MessagePad, but that is certainly not where the similarities end. The iPad is similar in weight and size to the final incarnation of the MessagePad (iPad 242.8mm x 189.7mm, 680g.; MP2100 210.3mm x 118.7mm, 640g.) and its operating system also shields the user from the its complex innards—perhaps even more so than Newton OS. Applications are presented and activated in a very similar way, though the MessagePad used a stylus, rather than a finger, and the file system is almost as vague, though this is still a rather unclear area. The iPad is a master communicator, just as the MessagePad tried to be; advances in and convergences of technology give the iPad an advantage in that area, without a doubt. Other technological advances have provided the iPad with a dream of a colour screen and other capabilities that were clearly beyond the reach of the MessagePad in 13 BiP. Interestingly, the idea of an external keyboard has been maintained.

Strangely, the operating system of the iPad seems less intelligent than that of the MessagePad, even with the additional memory, the faster processor and the years of intervening development. Newton OS would automatically create links between, for example, a name in a calendar appointment and a name and address entry, to facilitate sending a fax.

By the time the MessagePad 2000 and 2100 came along, Newton's handwriting recognition had been improved to give a high level of accuracy (though it still had to be "trained" to achieve this). Because of this, Newton lovers are sorely disappointed that HWR is not a part of the standard features of the iPad. Indeed, the iPad is operated solely by finger "gestures," rather than with a stylus, so all input must be achieved through either a virtual keyboard (with what looks like an excellent implementation of such a keyboard) or with an optional external physical keyboard.

(The photos in this article are of some of my own Newton collection.)

Veni, vidi, iPad

You can't have missed the fact that Apple recently announced that its new iPad will soon be available for purchase.

i-what?

iPad. A "tablet computer"—a sort of hand-held computer without a physical keyboard.

Since Apple's announcement, made about a week ago, the computer geeks and freaks have been discussing the new baby all over the Web and, I'm sure, in printed form, too. They, of course, have been looking at it from anything but the point of view of the "normal" end-user, for these pundits, like myself, have been using computers for years (in my case, since 1968) and tend to see things "through a glass, darkly" (with thanks to 1 Corinthians 13). They moan about:

the lack of MacOS X (an operating system);
the lack of multi-tasking;
the lack of sufficient storage;
the lack of connectability;
the lack of a camera/webcam…

They fail miserably to look at the usefulness, audacity, and daring of the iPad.

It is particularly brave of Apple to present such a daring design, based to a very large extent on that of the much smaller iPhone and iPod touch. Apple has not had a happy history with hand-held computers, and Steve Jobs, the guiding guru of Apple, was some 13 years ago responsible for the ending of the Newton MessagePad product line (the Newton MessagePad was perhaps an even more daring step towards handheld computing). Jobs had no personal input into the Newton development, which took place during his forced absence from Apple and he had no problem at all in axing it, despite its extremely advanced features.

This time, however, Jobs seems to have been actively involved in the iPad development and certainly seemed pleased with the result when he presented the machine to an expectant audience. The presentation was the subject of much speculation prior to the event, with most pundits predicting a MacOS X based tablet, presumably thinking that Apple would follow Microsoft's attempts at releasing tablets with various flavours of Windows as the operating system. Silly boys! Since when has Apple followed Microsoft? And even if MacOS X is still the easiest and most stable operating system for desktop and laptop PCs, Jobs audaciously decided that something even simpler and less prone to error should be used on Apple's iPad. As a result, the iPad runs with a version of the iPhone operating system (also used on the iPod touch).

The result is a machine of incredible usefulness and ease of use. The user is completely screened from the operating and filing system. Applications start immediately with just a tap of the finger. The size of the machine and the quality of the LED screen is such that reading e-books will be a breeze; looking at photos, a dream; watching video, a real experience. And, of course, the iPad can handle email, web browsing, third-party apps (including those written for the iPhone and iPod touch), contacts, music… and so on and so forth. But there is even more, for the iPad will also be able to create presentations, using the app Keynote (far superior to PowerPoint), do page layout with Pages, and create spreadsheets with Numbers.

The iPad has a built-in virtual keyboard (it is displayed on the touch-sensitive screen and you simply type away on it), but can also be connected to a physical keyboard, if the user prefers (this setup is shown in the accompanying photo).

In some respects, the iPad doesn't go quite as far as the Newton went all those years ago: there is no handwriting recognition, for example, and the "intelligence" that the Newton operating system displayed seems to be absent in the iPad. Nevertheless, the iPad appears to be a good step towards being "the computer for the rest of us." Do you remember that slogan? It was used when the first Macintosh was released over twenty years ago, providing a graphical user interface (GUI) on a commercial desktop computer. The Mac made the use of a personal computer far easier, but it still required (and personal computers still work in this way) the user to have some idea of file organisation, to keep away from some areas of the computer, and to generally be more careful than is perhaps fair to expect of an end-user.

The iPad hides all the ugliness (sweetness to us computer people) and complexity of the operating system from the end-user. The iPad takes away any necessity to worry about file organisation. The iPad blocks access to the more delicate areas. The end-user need only worry about the thing that they are concerned with: which app?

This is an ideal computer for the majority of people who (think they) need a computer. What do most people want to do with a computer? Well, email (tick), web surfing (tick), names and addresses (tick), play music (tick), diary and appointments book (tick), perhaps some text processing (tick with Notes, bigger tick with Pages), look at photos (tick), look at videos (tick)… The iPad does all this and more, and you don't need a special table, cables, tower, complicated setup, etc. Lie on the sofa, sit in an armchair, sprawl on the floor, sit in the train… wherever you are, the iPad can be used. For me, it could replace my PowerBook when I travel to Belgium from Spain, or to anywhere else for that matter.

So where does this leave the moaning groaners? Nope, there is no multi-tasking. Not that multi-tasking is high on the want-list of the majority, for heaven's sake. Lack of sufficient storage? Well, I've got a 32 giga iPod and it has plenty of space to spare with over 3,500 pieces of music and several hundred photos, as well as a couple of videos, an e-book, and 24 apps in addition to the standard ones; indeed, I have over 13 giga free. Admittedly, there will be some people who will require more space and there is the 64 giga version for them. And you can bet your boots that if the iPad is a success, there will soon be versions with even larger capacity. Connectability? Yes, at the moment the options are limited: to all intents and purposes, you need another personal computer (MacOS X or Windows) to load iTunes music onto the iPad, for example, but you still have what will probably be a shared space to exchange data (as opposed to external storage) and will be able to access Apple's on-line storage service. In addition, the iPad has an input-output port, which can be used for a keyboard, or to attach a camera for transferring photos, but the full extent of the use of this port must still be explored. iPad also has bluetooth and WiFi capabilities, so there seems little doubt that apps will soon be developed to make use of these capabilities. The lack of a built-in camera or webcam is, indeed, a peculiar decision. The operating system is not the problem, as the iPhone is equipped with a camera, so why did Apple (Jobs?) decide not to include such a device in the iPad. I honestly have no idea. I can do perfectly well without either a still camera or a webcam, but I can see that a lot of people would prefer to have one or other (or both). A still camera would, admittedly, be rather out of place on the iPad (imagine holding up the iPad to take a photo), but the webcam could serve a function for videoconferencing, or simple chatting (the iPad would, however, need a more sturdy support than merely being held in the hand).

Whatever its shortcomings at the moment, I have little doubt that they will be addressed in what will perhaps be a "Pro" version of the iPad, which will appear only if the current version proves to be a commercial success. Personally, I have little doubt that the iPad will be a huge success, for it really does look like the computer for the rest of us.

How an mp3 player helps to relieve me of my haemorrhoids while allowing me to play with my little organ…

Be honest, haemorrhoids are not the most pleasant things in the world. I've put up with them for a while now. No idea why I get them, but perhaps it's something to do with the medicine I take, or simply the age, which seems to be blamed for quite a number of ailments.

I've tried pills, potions and pomades, but there's nothing that helps quite like the remedy suggested by She Who Knows Best (whe else?): old-fashioned starch.

I kid you not. It reaches parts other products fail to reach…

So each evening you can now find me sitting for about half an hour in a bidet, which is filled with pleasantly warm water in which a handful of Remy Royal Starch has been dissolved. Relief is assured.

But what to do during that half hour?

Well, I used to read. Recently, however, I purchased an Apple iPod Touch, an mp3 player that does a lot more than just play mp3s. One of the additional features is its ability to run applications that can be purchased and downloaded for a very small cost, or even free. I have become particularly enamoured of three of these "apps", namely Cribbage, Backgammon, and Pocket Organ.

Being careful with my money (otherwise known as an old skinflint), I have chosen the free, or "lite", versions of Cribbage and Backgammon: they do for me quite well, thank you, and I really do not need the online playing capabilities offered by the paid versions. I've tried a couple of other implementations of these games, but the versions linked to please me most.

Most of my time, however, is spent playing with my little organ.

The little organ in question is provided by Pocket Organ C3B3. I had to pay for this app, much to my chagrin, but having previously owned a Hammond drawbar organ (an Aurora Century, in fact), I quite fancied a tockle on the plastics again and 2.99 euro wasn't really going to break the bank.

Wonderful app, with a decent sound (especially with earphones) and a cleverly designed interface to set up the various functions of the organ and to adjust its drawbars.

Don't get me wrong, I was never a virtuoso; nothing like it! But I can follow a relatively simple score and Pocket Organ provides more than enough scope for my limited abilities. I'm already belting out Welsh favourites such as Calon Lân, Myfanwy, Sosban Fach and Wooden Heart (well, that's Elvis via Swabia, but you get the idea).

Onward Christian Soldiers

I remember that when I was a young boy, living in the Rhondda Valley, my father would get very annoyed at the fairly regular Sunday visits of the Salvation Army, who would have a band playing in the street and then knock at the door, asking for money. He became especially angry one day when I gave the paper-money (the money that was supposed to be used to buy the Sunday newspapers) to the Sally Army.

At least they didn't try conversion tactics.

Lately, we've been plagued by hordes of Christians calling on us at unearthly hours of the morning. Ding-blooming-dong goes the doorbell at something like ten in the morning, when all good Christians and even sensible folk should be either asleep or just waking up, especially in the depths of winter.

Several weeks ago a group arrived at what was, admittedly, a rather more sensible hour. "Are you a believer," or something was the introduction offered by He Who Clearly Looked Upon Himself As The Leader.

"No, I'm an atheist."

"Why?"

The rest is history.

Less than two weeks ago I was in the middle of my ablutions and She Who Must Be Obeyed was equally employed, though in a different bathroom, I hasten to add, when ding-dong goes the bell. There's me, thinking that this must be something really important for another human to be round and about at such a time, so a quick rub down with a towel, on with a dressing-gown and off to the front door: four turns of the key, pull back the dead-lock and open the door to see two oldies (well men of about my age, actually) standing at the gate with grins on their face, one of them bearing a remarkable likeness to Carrol's Cheshire Cat. It was The Cat that spoke. "Good morning, sir!" Yes, he called me "Sir." I suspect he noticed my dishevelled state, my dressing-gown, and my look of bewilderment. "We are on a small Christian mission…" Well, that was quite enough for me.

"I'm an atheist," I announced and promptly shut the door.

And then, just yesterday morning, there's me, sitting on the pot, contemplating my navel and expelling substances previously ingested, when ding-blumming-dong again. SWMBO was still in bed, but moved herself, presumably in recognition of my somewhat disturbing condition. Not that her condition was much better, of course: a hastily donned dressing-gown and a hairstyle van ik zal je hebben. Anyway, open the front-door she did. Turns out that this time it's a couple of old women (well, about my age, so that's old enough).

"Oh, did we wake you up?"

"Yes."

"Can we leave you some literature to read?" (And SWMBO swears she could hear a sort of sub-vocal "Amen" to follow.)

"No."

And the door was closed.

Okay, they believe what they want to and they are entitled to do so. But they are not entitled to annoy us by ringing or doorbell and trying to alter our opinions. Just imagine the uproar there would be if a group of Muslims were to travel from house to house trying to convert people to Islam! The Christians (the good side, of course — the ones who organised the Crusades that killed tens of thousands, the ones that wiped out the Cathars because they chose a different lifestyle, the ones that supported Hitler and Franco…) would be up in arms, there would be questions in Parliament, headlines, threats of civil disturbance… So, what's the difference.

Sing to the tune of Onward Christian Soldiers

Onward Christian soldiers
Walk on past my door
Don't ring at the doorbell
Don't call any more
I don't want the message
That you wish to give
I don't share your feelings
I'm an atheist.

¡Que aproveche!

We are not ones to take part in well-participated festivities to welcome in the New Year, or for any other occasion, for that matter. Too much smoke and false jollity for us. Instead, we prefer a quiet twosome in a decent, smoke-free, quiet restaurant. Hotel La Laguna, not far from where we live in Guardamar, offers just such an environment, so a couple of weeks ago we booked up to hopefully enjoy the New Year's lunch that was being offered there.

Well, we've just returned from our lunch and it more than lived up to our expectations.

The menu was as follows:

Abreboca de degustación individual:
Entrada fría: Abocado relleno al estilo La Laguna
Entrada templada: Volován de Crema Fina Mero y Gambas con Lluvia de Huevas (shown in the photo)
Entrada caliente: Ensalada Templada de Perdiz

Plato principal:
Tierra: Caldo Calentito con Pelotas (traditional New Year dish of the area)
Agua: Sorbete de Piña Navideña al Cointreau
Mar: Lubina Acompañada de Nube Crujiente de Puerros

Dulzura:
Saquito de Mango Crujiente sobre Salsa de Chocolate y Frutos Rojos

Accompanied by a selection of wines, waters, etc. and followed by coffee.

In addition, a tapa of a piece of toast, covered with serrano ham and topped with a fried quail's egg, preceded the meal itself.

It was all exceptionally good, correctly served by a very friendly and helpful waiter, and enjoy it we most certainly did.

Last year we also partook of the New Year's offering at La Laguna, though then it was in the form of a buffet. Also very well presented and excellent value for money.

¡Feliz Navidad!

Merry Christmas, in other words, though the concept of Christmas is somewhat different here in Spain. The whole period from Christmas to Epiphany is encompassed in the term, rather than the more limited time generally referred to in the north of Europe. Most towns and villages are decorated with coloured lights, often quite elaborate, and a commercial frenzy accompanies the mid-winter feast, now largely taken over by the Catholic church. I'm sure that few Spaniards are aware of the real nature of Christmas: a time to celebrate the end of the darker days and the coming of the new light, with deliciously pagan symbolism, including green trees, imitation fruits to hang on the trees (the decorations) and the Spirit of Winter himself, now transformed into Papa Noël/Father Christmas/Santa Claus and anything else but the "real" thing.

At Christmastime, almost every town and village in Spain is illuminated with special Christmas lights strung across the streets and has a tree in its main square. On a rather more traditional level, seasonal songs, of both a religious and a lay nature, called villancicos, are sung to the accompaniment of pandaretas (small tambourines) and zambombas (a small drum, which has a rubbing-stick stuck into it. Another very popular tradition is that of the Belén (Bethlehem), a sort of nativity scene, though often not limited to a mere stable; instead a complete village is reproduced, often including moving parts and running water. I provide an idea of both a villancico and a Belén (that of Guardamar) in this YouTube film.

The gathering of the family is an important part of the Spanish Christmas and this occurs on any or all of the three most important dates of the season: la nochebuena (Christmas Eve), la nochevieja (New Year's Eve), and los Reyes Magos (5 January, the eve of Epiphany).

The most important family gathering and dinner of the year is undoubtedly la nochebuena (literally, the good night). Culinary traditions vary in different parts of the country, but it is likely that some roast lamb or sea-bream will be prepared as the main course, with turrón as at least one element of the postre, or dessert. Turrón is a delicious confectionery, made of almonds, honey, and sugar, presented in various forms from soft to very hard. The meal is often followed by a visit to la misa del gallo, or midnight mass (though literally the cockerel's mass).

La nochevieja (literally, the old night), is another excuse for a family gathering, which includes the peculiar tradition of eating twelve grapes, one for each strike of the clock at midnight. ("Traditional" is saying a lot in this context, as the exercise dates only from the early part of the 20th century, when an extremely large grape harvest made the growers think of some clever way to sell more of their produce.) As well as family get-togethers, many Spaniards congregate in town squares, wherever there is a large clock, to welcome in the New Year. Partying then continues well into the early hours of the morning.

During all this time, the children are most looking forward to the night of 5 January, when los Reyes Magos (the Three Kings) come to distribute gifts. Prior to this, most towns will have welcomed the kings in large processions and the children will have been given the opportunity to either hand their letters, containing their wish-list, either to the kings in person (special podia are set up, with thrones and attendants) or through the Royal Postman, stationed in strategic positions throughout the land (usually in department stores, of course).

On the morning of Epiphany itself, breakfast often includes el Roscón de Reyes, a ring-shaped sweet bread, filled with preserved fruits, often angelica. Hidden in the bread is a figurine and a bean. Whoever finds the figurine is allowed to wear a golden crown, but the finder of the bean must pay for the drinks.