"Last week's demo showed a mobile-phone-sized 6.3-centimetre LEP screen, displaying a colour video of TV quality on a 270 000-pixel screen. CDT claims it will be able to manufacture its display cheaply enough to make colour video affordable on future wireless Internet devices, such as palm tops, webpads and mobile phones."
Anyway, to satisfy all those curious, here's a malt loaf recipe, a bizarre malt loaf price watch-cum-fan-page, and of course, what some regard as the industry-standard malt loaf (if brand name recognition is anything to go by).
I can't believe I've just done an entire entry on bloody malt loaf. That's just malt loaf. Not bloody malt loaf. That'd be black pudding, a completely different... oh, sod it... wait a sec...
"Europe is not a conspiracy against us, but an opportunity for us." [BBC News]
Let me just think about this for a sec... yep, got it.
So, the idea is you tell them if you have a crush on someone. If that someone has a crush on you, then wahey--it matches you up. No more meddlesome gossip-hungry friends to get in the way of two perfectly well-adjusted adults (or probably teens) who just happen to be shy or just sheer-scared-to-death.
But: let's run with this. All they need to do is integrate this into WAP phones or PDAs with IR or Bluetooth and then it can automatically interrogate everyone in the same room as you. No more awkward social situations! Trouble-free dating!
Course, people have to have a crush on you in the first place...
"Intelligent posts and a fun sense of humor.
What are you waiting for? Go visit! :)"
Sorry. Far too much italicised text in that paragraph...
"Last year, a report commissioned by Novell UK found that e-mail is often used aggressively. This is known as flame-mail. Most flame-mail is sent intra-department. Almost one-fifth of people who have been abused in this way said their relationship with the sender was irrevocably damaged. The most likely source of flame-mail is the boss."
Not really big news, I'm surprised that The Times picked up on it at all, and anyway, this story is at least five weeks old. Nevertheless, I don't really see what Corpus is complaining about, Caius has always shunted those who get firsts in exam results to the top of the housing ballot, and I have no problem with that whatsoever: work hard and get a reward.
which had the effect of flooring me with laughter. And neatly explains why text-messaging turned up in the search. A great, hilarious article.
Yes! The answer to the question everyone's been asking (and if you haven't heard them asking it, then they've been asking it quietly...) a research paper from (um, can't find out... QMCED.ac.uk? Addressed to department of Geography at Glasgow University?) Anyway, here it is: Why people say where they are during mobile phone calls.
Short(ish) take:
"It is argued that a concern with theoretical innovations and vocabularies effectively distance them from everyday affairs where ordinary actors practically understand what it going on in their worlds. This practical understanding is inherent in the intricacies of a conversational 'ordering' which is at one and the same time also an ordering of the times and spaces of these worlds. Choosing an indifferent approach to the 'grand theories' of culture, some detailed understandings of social practices are offered via the alternatives of ethnomethodological and conversational investigations."
I just knew that sociology and mobile phones would be making great research proposals. Here's another one: Sociology of Mobile Phones: the Nordic model, and another from the author of the above paper: meet you at junction 17. a socio-technical and spatial study of car driving and mobile phones.
Cool.
David Brin: It helps if you sometimes say to yourself I am a member of a civilisation.
Now, this wouldn't be too bad if Ebble just stuck to their own little corner of the web and carried on cranking out their own crap on www.ebble.co.uk. But that's not enough, is it. Not at all.
Ebble is behind the Brook Advisory Clinic website. Brook provides free, confidential sex advice and contraception to all young people. Welcoming everybody, and and acting totally confidentially. So they're a great, useful service for young people. They do not need that travesty in HTML that they've been lumbered with. I think I'm going to have to email them and do a freebie. This kind of thing just pisses me off. I just hope they weren't charged for the site they got...
"There are MILLIONS of people in this world who are genuinely starving, at mortal risk and/or live under a repressive regieme that end up with them risking their lives to escape the institutionalised torture, rape and murder. THEY have problems. YOU are a whinging, white middle-class dickhead with absolutely no concept of how good your life is in the scheme of the planet. If only you could open up your tiny mind outside of your own self-obsession you might realise that."
"The organisation has instructed its A&R department to scour the site (www.dreamworksdigital.com) for new talent to sign up to its record label.
"Wannabe recording artists are being encouraged to transmit songs and a photograph of themselves on a digital format, which will then be evaluated by the talent scouts."
Kind of like Peoplesound.com, then?
"It had a newly-appointed "superhead", Torsten Friedag, and almost entirely new staff. Some £3m has been spent improving the buildings and facilities.
"But in the spring term there were reports of playground fights between different ethnic groups. Then in March Mr Friedag resigned suddenly.
The idea behind these fresh start schools is to install a new head and throw lots of money at the problem... when the problem more often than not isn't just the school--it's the entire area and the surrounding social demographics. (Okay, controversial...)
I like the noframes tag, though: Sorry, it's about time you got a browser that can handle frames. IT'S THE YEAR 2000!!!
My personal life's been great. It really has. Absolutely amazing. Terrific. More superlatives and cliches than you could throw a swinging cat in a room at. Tonnes of stuff happening all over the place, and completely not threatening to spill over at all.
I've had a great ball (more pictures). That pretty much sums up everything I said for the twenty four hours after the ball. With a great date, oodles of free champagne, loads of stuff to do and the best heckling I've ever done in my life, I had a great time...
Heckling? Oh, that. There was a "comedian" at one of the marquees whom the programme proclaimed to be a "gag man", "combining intellignce with greeat comedy timing to produce the optimum number of gags per minute."
Needless to say, gag humour isn't something that I can appreciate. And, apparently, neither could the audience in the marquee. So much so that people starting coming into the marquee to watch this comedian die a horrible death on stage. He just kept going:
Gag. Silence. Gag. Silence. "Oh, come on. Laugh goddamnit." Silence.
It got to the point that Mary desperately wanted to throw the free chocolates on the table at him, and not wanting to do it herself (good choice), co-opted me. We threw. She missed. I hit.
Which proved to be the best comedy of his entire set because once hit, he immediatly locked eyes with me and asked me to step outside. Yay. Mary and I left shortly afterwards, not able to take more of his non-comedy, and were followed by a sizeable crowd in the marquee (as in, "look, the chocolate-throwing people are leaving. Let's leave too!).
Dave, one of my friends who stayed until the end, told us later that he ended his set by saying that he was going to find "that Chinese bloke...", which managed to get a laugh.
Mary and I saw the comedian sometime later, from a distance. He didn't look too happy...
Anyway... Plans for this summer?
I start work on Monday at Liverpool University working on Elias. Big secret project. Should be lots of fun, but it's definitely going to be hard work, and a minimum four week-project. The pay-off is large, though, with a completion bonus if we do the job within six weeks.
After that, I may have a job down in London during August for a few weeks (about four), and then a holiday is in order... I could do with some time not being in the country.
- That's so what we should do!
- Excuse me? Are you incredibly good looking? Are you rich? Do you live in New York?
- No...
- Then why are you talking like that?
Well, it was funny at the time...
Mary came down on Monday for the ball after having to endure a horrendous train journey that can only be described as a railtrack franchise operator's sadistic fantasy involving thirty degree heat, screaming children and a complete inability to work signals or, for that matter, anything to do with trains at all.
Anyway. We had a great time, went out to dinner with friends, tried to get to sleep, got up at the ungodly hour of quarter to seven on Tuesday morning (when I was subjected to sharp observation about castles and battlements). A nice time round town, got caught in the rain, caught a film (Driver and Duchovny in Return to Me), and then...
We went to The Ball. It was good. There was unlimited drink. There was unlimited food. There was candy floss. Lulu was there. Boy George was there (insert nice DJ words here). There was a vodka ice luge sculpture. We made a hideous amount of money at the casino. Our flatmate got hypnotised. Many, many, many things. Even more photos.
And now I'm broken.
"Perhaps if Britney is backing the future of the online world then the traders and dealers of London and New York should renew their confidence in the tech stock markets," says itn.co.uk.
"One best-selling manual on modern manners by a prominent aristocrat tells men not to put their elbows on the table, not to wear short socks showing inches of hairy leg, never to wear matching tie and handkerchief and always to give up their seat for a woman on public transport.
"Women are instructed not to wear plunging necklines and see-through tops in the office, and both sexes are reminded how to address a prince, a cardinal or the Pope."
Either way, I'd like to take this opportunity to say "Hello" and in the manner of a rather British phone advert: welcome to my world (God that's cheesy).
Ah, you probably had to have been there...
Just a quick and dirty list for the time being, I'll expand and add commentary on the links soon.
I've applied to do a dissertation in the area of medical ethics and law. This suits me fine, since I've always been interested in the biological natural sciences, in fact, I've always been interested in science: we've had subscriptions to New Scientist at home since God knows when, I've been busy reading popular science books by Greene, Hawking, Dawkins, Jones and Pinker for at least the last four years. I'm interested. I like what they talk about, and I like understanding. The way I see it, science is contributing so much to society these days that you can't afford not to make some kind of effort to learn what's going on.
Anyway. Medical Ethics.
Loads of stuff going down in that area. My three suggested dissertation topics (in order of preference) were:
1) The ethical debate concerning the use of germ line gene treatment and therapy and the resulting sociological effects of the widespread use of such treatment.
Germ line treatment is a tricky subject. Conventionally, gene therapy delivery mechanisms can be utilised to treat individuals, or, in the case of germ line therapy, the therapy is able to alter the gametes of the individual as well (i.e. spermatazoa and egg cells). Obviously, this has profound implications - we're in designer baby territory here. Where do we start? Where the hippocratic oath covers the "First do no harm" position, do we start by treating potential diseases? Do we treat when there is a a definite likelihood (i.e. 100%) of a congenital defect being expressed? Or where that likelihood is less? There's so much mileage in this that I'm going to have to pin down the exact area at some point. But right now, it gives me a load of room to maneuveure in.
I googled (is that a new adverb? adjective?) an ethics paper on the same from the Dalhousie Medical Journal. There's a mountain of material out there. I'm just going to have to sift through it all...
Essentially, the arguments for germ line therapy concern the permanent correction of serious illnesses and diseases. Ethical arguments suggest that it is more practical in terms of suffering, discomfort and technical requirements, to corret such a disorder at the beginning of life via germ line therapy than by attempting to correct it later.
Of course, this wouldn't be a valid essay if there weren't an opposing view. And there are: obviously, the potential misuse for genetic enhancement and eugenics is practically irrefutable. Further, we still don't understand how genetic mechanisms work in the human body, not to any great degree
--premature use of germ line therapy before we fully understand the mechanisms of human genetics may result in the disruption of gene therapy. More arguments against the deployment of such technology also include issues regarding patient autonomy.
2) An examination of the ethics concerning research utilising stem cells, embryos and aborted fetuses.
3) An examination into the debate concerning the patenting of genetic data (human or otherwise), exploring the US/UK positions on such patenting with reference to the Human Genome Project and the Scandinavian public/private partnership model.
Oh, and Lloyd? Here's your link.
So, yeah... content. In reverse chronological order, which must really fuck up you weblog people in the head...
Those UK Bloggers
I've got to admit that I was shit scared on Sunday. I felt crap most of Saturday night, had a bad cold, couldn't sleep, runny nose, all that kind of stuff. Sore throat. Late night. Not good. Watched films (more of that later). By the time that I did get to sleep it was late, and I still had washing to do...
It just felt weird. I hadn't done anything like this before. I was meeting people who I kind of knew, since I'd either emailed or ICQed them, I'd read their blogs, got an insight into their personality. I hadn't done a Lloyd Wood on them, but hey, I felt like I knew these people quite well.
Didn't feel that way on the train. Nope. Not at all. I'd invited Natalie, one of my flatmates, to see if she wanted to come with me and it turned out that she was actually going to London to visit friends anyway. We'd take the same train down, maybe meet up later to come back home. I freaked out on the train.
I don't know these people! Everyone knows how people are different online than from what they are out in the real world. Everyone's different. People are different in letters, in emails, on the phone... And for some godforsaken reason, I'd decided to meet arrange a meeting with complete strangers. Strangers who, you know, might be nice and all online, they might be great, eloquent, have universally acclaimed domain names, but they still might be axe murderers. Have you never seen that Mike Myer's film?
Natalie told me not to freak out. Hey, these were normal people. They were cool people. I wanted to meet them. No problem. No problem at all.
So we got to King's Cross and headed for the WHSmiths where we were supposed to be meeting. Jen was there. Good. I went away to buy some tissues to appease my dangerously misbehaving cold, and by the time I came back, Dave and Giles had managed to turn up. Katy and Tom were lingering, and by the time Luke, Meg and Johanna had turned up, we headed off to the pub. The Lincoln, I think. Steve turned up about ten minutes later, having been given directions.
What a cool day.
You see, now I've built up the whole thing. I've spent the last few paragraphs telling you how uptight I was, how I thought everything'd be an unmitigated disaster.
It wasn't. I had a great time. I got to meet people and put the cliched name to a face. There's a collection of faces available, if you're that way inclined. Oh, and please don't try and work out the url that Giles chose for the photos. It's a long, complicated story...
This is me, by the way.
Bizarrely, people seem to be talking about haircuts. Luke briefly mentioned his hair in a post to the list. Steve mentioned his hair, too. Well, as with the rest of the blokes, I apologise for mine. Anyway, it's being cut in a rather vicious manner tomorrow morning.
Scary Dissertations and Suchlike
Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing the subject that I should be doing. By that I mean whether I'm doing the right thing studying law in the hope that I grow up to be a big solicitor in the city with a nice wife, house, car and kids.
One of the reasons is that although I can do law, and I can write the essays, quite a lot of it has seemed, well, dull so far. Never mind. This is only the academic bit.
Anyway, all a moot point: I get to choose a dissertation for next year. I need to think about it, but obviously not too much, because the deadline for submissions is 4pm tomorrow afternoon. I've got a number of thoughts going...
First off is a human rights-based dissertation looking at the right to privacy and freedom of expression in an electronic surveillance / cryptography framework: i.e., I really want to have a go at this Regulation of Investigatory Powers Bill. There's a lot of mileage in this subject, lots of new case law, and the opportunity to compare with other domestice legal systems, most notably the US.
Second up are law and the ethics of medicine and family in society; both of which look like they're going to be providing interesting topics on stem cell research work and genetic engineering.
Twentyfiveframespersecond
The Iron Giant. I've wanted to see that film for ages. Absolutely ages. And now I have. I want to see it again. It's an amazing film, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Go see it. Buy a DVD player to see it. Persuade a cinema to run it again. Just go see it.
And now it's raining. I've got to go out in the rain and bloody cycle to my last exam and it's pissing it down. How crap is that? Yesterday the weather was great. Now it's cold, wet and miserable. Here's the proof.
But let's just say that by this time tomorrow, I intend on being thoroughly drunk.
If you catch me doing an update, feel free to have a go at me. Don't have a go at me unless there's a good reason, though. I might get hurt and offended if you do it needlessly.
The DTI's Home Accident Surveillance System report is out, based upon 1998 data. Unfortunately, the report is not available online, but it looks like you can request a free copy to a UK address.
A few snippets from the New Scientist article: there have been an estimate of 996 sponge-related accidents nationwide, but trouser accidents have risen nationwide from 4440 to 5137. I'm not quite sure what a trouser accident is (whether it's something that happened in the movie American Pie, or just an embarrassing wet patch), but 9843 people managed to be injured by socks and tights. Yes, I don't know how either.
Go check out the article. It's fun.
I think "eclectic" is the nice way of describing my taste in music. "Bizarre" is probably nearer the mark, though.
Many of the nicest times I've ever felt were when I was with my last girlfriend. This one stands out in particular:
this feels good... I feel...
... safe...
from what?
... the world...
Yes, horribly slushy, but it was so... nice.
I'm still proud of the preface to my current diary, though. It reads:
"Stop reading my fucking diary."
Concise.
I'd just like to point out that it was a sarcastic eight ball. When I saw the answer, I assumed that it meant Tom and Katy would whup Mark's ass. Or have I just completely lost the plot whatsoever?
I'd have to side with Katy on the northern girls thing, though. It's true. There was a whole girls' school of them down the road from my school... And does anybody remember primary school playgrounds? They'd go for your shins. With those pointed shoes. Ouch.
Um, Hi. My name's Dan. And I have Acetaldehyde Dehydrogenase Deficiency.
It's taken me ages to look that up. Explains lots of things to me now, though. Ooh, and thanks to A Level chemistry. Otherwise I'd just be looking at a page full of squiggles.
It's okay for the government to shoot ducks, though. Or at least kill them. The thing is, though, it costs them £1,000 to shoot a ruddy randy duck. That's a lot of money per duck. The government's started hiring hunters, but the ducks are too good. They're ducking and diving (sorry), escaping into water and swimming into reeds.
The ducks' crime? It's been condemned to die because of its sexual prowess.
"Quintessentially Belle & Sebastian. Frustrating. Contrary. Insubstantial. Yet, in that insular, cloyingly sanctimonious world they inhabit, still peerless, still irresistible."
So: which books to buy? Each Saturday the Times prints its new paperbacks selection, along with a review of a book by an up-and-coming author. And if that doesn't help, I'm sure about an hour browsing in a bookshop with coffee will probably do...
Q. In a celebrity deathmatch with Tom and Katy tagteaming against Mark, would Tom and Katy win?
And thus spake the ball...
A. Oh, Please.
I take no liability for the ball's answers.
Suggest a yes/no question to ask the ball, and I'll put up the best ones so far tomorrow afternoon.
"Soon you could be saving Private Ryan to your hard drive"
I bet whoever thought that one up was lying on the floor in stitches...
Is Pair good? Are there better deals? Should I go through NSI (heard bad things about them), or are these new people alright? Ideally, I'd like a UK registrar, but for hosting I'd rather go to the US (it's so much cheaper)...
This easyspace place was listed on ICANN, but their site looks a bit tacky. Their .com prices are cheap, though...
Any ideas?
Five things I want to have done before I've died.
1=. Have kids. (Be able to walk into a bookshop and say to my friends "Look! I did that!" and be talking about the tiny person holding my hand.)
1=. Write a book and have it published. (Be able to walk into a bookshop and say to my friends "Look! I did that!" and be talking about my book, not a stack of books I'd just been paid to pile up in the corner)
3. Join the mile high club, though I suspect that once Richard Branson has put all those double beds on his planes the membership will skyrocket and that's probably cheating. (Inspired by Mary's list)
4. Visit places. Australia. China. And maybe indulge in some (light) capitalism in America.
5. Learn another instrument. Maybe the violin. And get really good at it.
really funny - 38909 documents
really really funny - 1037 documents
really really really funny - 83 documents
really really really really funny - 12 documents
really really really really really funny - 4 documents
It's a damn funny world out there. Now the word "really" has lost all meaning to me, the way words do after you see them repeated lots.
Yeah, that's right. Shameless self-publicity.
Guess I should start doing family revision now...
No email at all. No one's sent me email between one and seven in the morning. Not even slashdot.org, or other various American mailing lists that prefer sending their batches out in the morning hours. It's at this point that I notice Windows 2000 has been completely failing to dial out, and I check the error logs. I'm paraphrasing, here.
"Well, the last time I was connected was at two in the morning. And then we got chucked off at about fourish seeing as ntlworld are like that, and don't like letting people stay online for more than two hours at a go. So I tried again, like you told me to in that checkbox, you know, the one that says redial if line dropped. I called the 0800 number like you told me to, but then no one answered! So I tried again, and again and again. I got bored then, so I've given up now. Maybe you should ask them what's going on?"
An aside: error messages would be much more fun, more tolerable and more informative if they were presented this way.
Stuff that, I thought, and did some more international law. I went to an international law exam instead. I went to college, picked up mail, read a few newspapers, did the odd crossword, went to Sainsburys, read New Scientist, and came home.
Daniella and Julie were a bit miffed that they weren't able to check their email on my computer, and to that extent, Julie had gone all the way into college, found a computer and emailed me to tell me that email on my computer wasn't working.
I fired off an email to ntl through freeserve, which was very polite and asked them exactly when they were planning on answering their phones again.
I waited about thirty seconds, and got bored, read Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow for about twenty minutes, and then called ntlworld's one pound a minute support line.
They spent at least thirty seconds on a recording telling me that I was being billed at one pound a minute. When someone picked up (remarkably quickly, I might add), he spent another forty five seconds trying to work out what my postcode was. I gave it him. He typed it in wrong. I gave it him again. He typed it in wrong. I gave it to him again, spelt out all the words, and asked if branding it onto his hands would make it easier for him to remember it. I didn't actually say that, but I was feeling that way.
Armed with postcode information, he asked me "So, what problem have you been having with ntlworld?"
"I can't connect. Automatic dialing stopped working at four in the morning."
"Yes, we know. The entire network's down. We're working on it."
"When wil it be fixed?"
"I don't know."
"OK. Thanks.
I was slightly incensed. I hung up. And then went outside.
A few things I learnt about the Human Rights Act last year (and managed to shoehorn into an exam essay about the incorporation and transformation of international law into municipal English law yesterday):
It's what we call weak incorporation. In that way, direct effect of international law isn't necessarily given effect to in the UK (or in this case, England and Wales), which means that the European Convention on Human Rights "sort-of" applies.
What you've got to bear in mind is that constitutionally, Parliament is supposed to be the supreme legislative body. Things got a bit messy in 1972 when we joined the EC/EU, because Parliament ceded some of its legislative supremacy to the EU, seeing as a lot of people didn't think that was possible. One of the fundamental cornerstones of UK constitutional law is that Parliaments cannot bind successive Parliaments. Makes sense if you think about it.
With that in mind, the Human Rights Act (HRA), works like this... (slightly simplified)
When a court interprets an Act of Parliament, it has to interpret it in such a way as it does not countervene the Human Rights Act, so pesky little things like the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Bill would have to be interpreted to give effect to Convention rights.
Not too bad, right?
Er, no. You see, even when a court tries to interpret that Act so that it's compatible with your Convention Rights (which, by the way, you don't necessarily have--well, not in an English court, anyway), and they find out that they can't interpret the legislation in a way that's compatible, you're more or less shafted.
Legislation that's incompatible with Convention Rights is still regarded as being valid, and may continue operating and also continues to be enforced.
You're in the same position with subordinate legislation. If the primary legislation is incompatible, and prevents removal of that incompatibility, then tough luck. The subordinate legislation still applies, even if it's incompatible.
So what happens next? The court tells Parliament that the legislation is incompatible by making a declaration of incompatibility. Once the court's made that declaration, the legislation is still valid, continues to operate and continues to be enforced. The buck passes over to Parliament, but the declaration isn't binding on the parties to which the case was brought to court.
So, get up and cheer for the Human Rights Act. You've never had it so good.
If you're slightly annoyed by the end of this, you might still want to check out Stand, who are more than a little incensed about the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Bill...
Today, and probably for the next few days if not weeks, the debate (if there even is a debate...) rages on. The Times reports that the Magdalen college admissions tutor "begs Northern students to apply to Oxbridge", and points out that yes, Oxbridge is elitist. In the intellectual sense. But the Government isn't just targetting Oxbridge anymore. Durham and Newcastle are being urged by John Prescott to "fight for the best".
David Blunkett, on the other hand, seems to have just about grasped the point (though looks unwilling to admit it)... applications to Oxbridge tend to be self-selecting, and Oxbridge has been doing something about it: "David Blunkett, the Education Secretary, yesterday urged state school head teachers to do more to prepare candidates for entry to leading universities, giving them the high aspirations and confidence found in the independent sector."
On that basis, letters to The Times yesterday included more public commentary on the subject. Best letters?
Sir, You did not publish the letter I sent you last week about Laura Spence. In fact you have never published any letters I have sent you over the years on a variety of subjects.
I now realise you must have discriminated against me because I was born in the North East of England and did not attend Oxford or Cambridge.
Yours faithfully,
BERNARD GARSTON
(Unsuccessful applicant to Trinity Hall, Cambridge, 1954)
and...
Sir, I was a pupil at a state school and so might have been expected to have some sympathy for Mr Brown's strictures on Oxbridge entry.
However, I have also been Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, which seems to knock the bottom out of his argument.
Yours faithfully,
ALAN COTTRELL
"It would be unlike a company as far-sighted as Microsoft not to have considered all its options and, clearly, its ultimate option if the operating environment becomes too hostile in the United States, is to move overseas. In fact, that could turn out to be the company's trump card."
This being the company that was so far-sighted that it didn't have to completely reorganise once Bill Gates had figured out what the Internet was, when he was too busy mucking around with the first incarnation of the Microsoft Network.
My friends know how tired I am... people who want to know out of sheer curiosity could ask me, I suppose...
I'm going to bed. And I'm not going to set an alarm clock. I'm going to wake up when I damn well wake up (hopefully not half five in the morning), and then I think I'll start on Family and Legal History...
Will write more soon. Promise.
