One device

 

First of many - a Psion Organiser, circa 1988

I’ve been conducting an experiment recently. I’ve been trying to determine if a single device can address all, or even most, of my day-to-day computing needs.

A bit of background. Over the years, I have been searching for the elusive perfect device. The one that you can work on, use to play games, and still fits in a pocket. I started this search before the Internet existed, and before mobile phones were portable. As new devices came along, I tossed out the old and bought the new. But in truth, it’s only in the last year or so when that elusive device has finally come within my grasp. And yet, has it?

The Next Generation Psion, somewhere in the early nineties.

My study has focused on two devices: a large mobile phone (6 inch display) and a small tablet (8 inch display). They both run a variant of the Windows operating system. Specifically:

• Nokia Lumia 1520 with Windows Phone 8.1
• Lenovo Miix 2 8 with 32 bit Windows 8.1

Now, I am using both of these as consumer devices. I ‘consume’ content, such as webpages, Twitter, videos, games and so on. I haven’t really tried to do much serious work on either of them. In fact, I am typing this report sitting in front of my extremely large and powerful Windows 8.1 laptop (Core i7 and lots of memory and an enormous display).
Here are my thoughts.

The Nokia 1520 with Windows Phone 8.1

Nokia Lumia 1520

The Nokia is not my mobile phone, although I have just stuck a Nano SIM in it. I use an old Sony Ericsson Xperia Ray running an old version of Android for that because it’s small and light and fits in a pocket and I can take it anywhere. So, the Nokia is a secondary device.

When I opened the box, I loved it. It’s sleek, and smooth (is that the same as sleek?), and has a wonderful display (1920 by 1080 – although I cannot see the text on webpages without glasses). Windows Phone synced my apps and settings with my other devices as soon as I signed in with my Microsoft account (one benefit of operating devices within the same ecosystem).

And then I started using it as my only consumption device. I put away the tablet and just used this. And it’s pretty good. The web browser works reasonably well, although it’s not quite as slick as IE on the tablet.

I was able to configure email, Skype, Twitter and the rest with relative ease, and for a week, I seriously considered selling the tablet on eBay.

But then a couple of things I didn’t like.

First, Skype on Windows Phone does not support SMS texting. Now, you’ll say ‘but it’s a phone, use the SMS feature of your telecom provider. And I agree, but I have always used Skype for SMS, and I want to carry on. So, this is irritating. It’s not the phone’s fault, nor even the operating system’s. It’s the version of the app that Microsoft provide. I guess I can live without it now I do have a SIM installed.

Second, and this is a big deal, the Bluetooth on the handset doesn’t support a keyboard profile. I hear you saying ‘what on earth would you want to add a keyboard to a mobile phone for?’ And I would remind you we’re searching for the one device you can stick in your day bag and do everything on, so adding a keyboard is an issue, potentially, at least. Without a keyboard, I cannot work. I don’t know my touch type rate, but its pretty fast on a proper keyboard, even the small (but perfectly formed) Microsoft Wedge I have. I am, after all, a writer.

Thirdly, there is not much inking support in the operating system. With the tablet, I can choose to use handwriting recognition as an alternative to the (crappy) onscreen keyboard. Not here. It’s the keyboard, onscreen only, or nothing.

Fourthly, and another killer. The micro USB port used for charging does not appear to support my OTG cable with the consequence that I cannot add memory sticks to the mix when I want to copy files or even to play media from an old memory stick. That’s irritating. It means I must plug the phone into my laptop and drag files across from that. I can live with that process, but someday, I’ll be out of the office, and someone will offer me a file on a memory stick and …. well, you get the idea.
Minor gripes include the fact that I cannot use Outlook for my email and contacts etc. I must use the Mail, Calendar and People apps. They’re OK, and in some respects, pretty good for a mobile phone, but this is inconsistent with the tablet. Interestingly, I have a POP3 email account. While the Mail app on the Nokia is cool with that, the same Mail app on the Windows tablet won’t let me access the mailbox, so I HAVE to use Outlook.

There is a procedure provided my Microsoft in which you use an Outlook.com account that acts as a middleman to bypass this issue. Essentially, your Outlook.com account retrieves your POP3 mail. You can then retrieve that mail from Outlook.com using IMAP. But I tried to get this to work and after an hour, I gave up. I’ve been working with Microsoft products for over 25 years, and it’s beyond me. Microsoft, please add POP support to your Mail app.

While we’re on the subject of Office, which is provided on the handset, I have found that slightly annoying. A large number of my documents won’t open in editing mode because of versioning issues. What? Work harder, guys. I shouldn’t have to save different versions of files to open on different devices. Although, of course, without a proper keyboard, editing is somewhat pointless anyway.

Having said all that, there are some things I love about the device.

In no particular order, I love the Nokia mapping apps. You can even download the maps to make them available offline FOR FREE. You can also choose to use a surfer dude to voice your navigation to your destination. He signs off with cool ‘No need to thank me, dude. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.’
I like Kids’ Corner. You just enable this feature and decide what your kids can access (games, movies, apps and whatever) and then you hand them your handset. They can only access what you setup. It’s a doddle.

There’s plenty of other stuff to like, and although I could never use the Nokia 1520 as a phone (because for me, it’s just too big for that), I have been carrying it around it my man bag for a couple of weeks and have yet to find a situation when I wished I’d had the tablet instead.

The Lenovo Miix with proper Windows 8.1

Lenovo Miix 2 8

I previously had a ten inch tablet running Windows 8. I found this to be just too big to carry around daily. It didn’t fit in my man bag, and it certainly wouldn’t squeeze into a pocket. Also, Windows 8 was pretty frustrating. eBay came to the rescue, and I managed to liquidate the device for the same as I paid from Argos.

I bought the Miix 2 8 because it was too cheap not to. £199 quid including shipping got me the 32GB version.

Now, a lot of folk bang on about available storage. They complain that after Windows is installed, there’s only 8GB left. Well, there is a hidden recovery partition that provides the fantastic feature of total device recovery for the small cost of about 5GB or disk space. So, zap that. No other OS provides  that. Now you’re up to 13GB, which is pretty good in a £200 device. And then you can add more storage through a Micro SD card (which you can move between Windows devices fairly seamlessly) and you can even plug memory sticks into the Micro USB port via an OTG cable.

Many people call storage ‘memory’, which, of course, it’s not. Pundits that cannot differentiate between storage and memory should be ignored.

Note that if you have enabled BitLocker on your SD card, Windows Phone seems unable to read the card. If you don’t know what BitLocker is, read on; this won’t matter to you.

What I like about this device is that because it’s proper Windows, I can, if I like, install any desktop app that I want. I installed Memory Map and then the WW1 trench maps I own. Brilliant. 

Note that one MAJOR frustration is that Windows 8.1 does not assign virtual comports to navigational software, such as commonly available GPS systems (including Memory Map). This means that although the tablet knows where it is on the surface of the earth, it won’t share this information with any desktop apps. There is supposedly a workaround piece of software available, but as with the Outlook.com issue above, I was woefully inadequate to the task of getting it to work.

Although the display has a lower resolution (1280 by 1024 I think), it’s actually more usable. 1920 displays sound great, but on a device this small, that can prove a challenge for all but the youngest eyes. It’s good enough to use all the apps and play all my videos.

And, of course, I can pair my keyboard, and mouse, to the device and work on it. I have used it to write some content, and it was fine. I wouldn’t want to write a novel on it (not being flippant here – I actually write novels), but for when the onscreen keyboard is not enough (and for me, that’s anything beyond simple text speak), it’s very handy. Mind you, when you add the 300 grams for the tablet, and 500 for the keyboard and its cover, and whatever for the mouse, you might as well have an Ultrabook and be done with it.

I like the Lenovo. BUT, and it’s a big but, I have never taken it out unless I planned on using it. That’s planned. I take the Nokia out just in case, even though I know I shan’t really need it. But the Lenovo is just a bit big for that. Even at only 8 inches.

Summary

I thought that at last, I had reached computing nirvana. The promised land of the single device. But I think that’s a fairy tale. It doesn’t exist – at least, not yet. So for now, I use the Nokia most of the time to view webpages, watch videos and the like. For work, I use a laptop. And the tablet? Well, that seems to be sitting on a shelf. In truth, I shall probably load Windows 9 onto it when I get the preview, and then we’ll see.

Rogues' Gallery

I've used all these over the years. They've all been OK in their own way, but never quite achieved what I was looking for.

Compaq Pocket PC - with Windows CE

This Jornada was a pretty good device. Again, Windows CE - but a 'proper keyboard'

This Sharp Zaurus ran Linux. Slide down the bottom to expose a keyboard

Windows Phone, about 2007 I think

Captain A S M Summers, Royal Flying Corps

Captain Summers' Cavalry Sword

A friend asked me to take a sword along to the Antiques Roadshow. It’s a First World War cavalry sword. My friend had done quite a bit of research about the blade, having determined from it’s serial number to whom it belonged.
The then Lieutenant A S M Summers took delivery of his sword in October 1909 from Wilkinson Sword. When war broke out, this former Yeoman officer was with the 19th Hussars. This regiment was attached to the infantry divisions in the BEF for the early months of the war, and Lt.Summers was assigned to the machine-gun detachment of his squadron.
He later joined the Royal Flying Corps as a pilot, and saw action with 60 Squadron RFC. Amongst his peers in August and September 1916 was Albert Ball, VC. Captain Summers, by then a flight leader, was killed in action on 15th September 1916 during the Battle of Flers–Courcelette.
I tracked down the following article that explains how he died. He was involved in an attack on enemy observation balloons using a new air-to-air weapons system.



Summers in front of his Morane fighter

In 1914 aircraft armament was a carbine in the cockpit and maybe a grappling hook trailing behind and below. Then, in only a matter of months, fighter plane fire power advanced to machine guns that fired through a rotating propeller and even wing mounted rockets which were crude but effective enough to be used by both the Allies and the Germans air services.

First air-to-air missile combat victory, Lt. A. M. Walters RFC Sept. 16, 1916 at the Battle of the River Somme

And so this sets up one of the great forgotten stories of WW I— a British pilot scores the very first aerial victory by air-to-air missile but then his accomplishment—and name—is lost in the drama and fog of battle. And even more ironically, this war fighter’s exploit was recorded in a large dramatic painting by a famous artist, but he was misidentified and so his historic action has only came to light when the painting of the air battle was discovered on the wall of a modest house in Bristol, Rhode Island almost 100 years after the historic aerial event.

The man who made air-to-air missile ordinance operational was Lt. Yves Le Prieur, a French army officer assigned to Japan before the war and who extrapolated the idea of turning fireworks into an airborne weapons system. Le Prieur’s rockets were just a cardboard tube filled with black powder, attached to a wooden stick fitted with a triangular knife blade to form a spear point. They were far from accurate and a little dicey when it came time to throw the electrical ignition. But a few forward thinking military minds recognized the possibilities, and for a short time in 1916, Le Prieur fire rockets became an important factor in air war strategy.
The story of Le Prieur’s rockets is fascinating and amusing. Le Prieur had to show the Generals that his idea worked before they would install them on an airship. So the inventive inventor took a Piccard-Pictet roadster, strapped on an actual airplane wing to which his rockets were attached, and then shot down a runway at 80 mph, blazing away. Apparently, whatever was destroyed this first rocket salvo did not embarrass anyone, and so M. Le Prieur became the first person to effectively prove that air-to-air missiles were a realistic war-fighter option.
All this then circles back to the story of the long forgotten painting (above) by an artist called Farre who personally captioned his work as an exploit of a “Lt. Summers.” This was to later cause much confusion because when research on the painting began, there was lots of information about an ace named Lt. Summers—but that fellow flew a different aircraft and all his victories were in 1918.
Finally, members of the League of WW I Historians solved the mystery, and here is the (edited) story they unravelled:

On September 15, 1916—the opening day of the Third Phase of the massive Battle of the Somme— RFC headquarters wanted the German balloons in the sector of the Flers-Courcelette assault all destroyed. General Trenchard (in command the RFC) visited No. 60 Squadron (which included the famous ace Albert Ball) and asked for volunteers to attack the balloons. Capt. Ball, 2Lt. A M Walters, 2Lt Euan Gilchrist, and Capt. A.S.M. Summers all volunteered. They all took off in (French) Nieuports armed with LePrieur Rockets.
Albert Ball and 2/Lt Walters found their balloons hauled down. They therefore attacked a formation of German planes. Ball fired off eight rockets but missed so he shot down the enemy fighter with conventional machine-gun fire. His wingman, 2Lt A M Walters, fired his rockets at one of the LVG two-seaters and saw a rocket hit the LVG in the fuselage, setting it aflame. The flaming LVG fell at Bapaume. This may very well have been the first air-to-air rocket victory against a heavier than air target.
Meanwhile, Gilchrist had destroyed his balloon and another was also destroyed and credited to Capt. A S M Summers, who was sadly shot down in flames by the anti-aircraft fire. Summers died in Nieuport 16, military serial number A136.
So, it was not actually Summers but Walters who destroyed an enemy airplane with LePrieur rockets. Lt. Walters fired 4 rockets. One hit the LVG and brought it down.

And there you have it. Lt. Walters, who actually made aviation history, and has languished invisible for a century, and would be forever unknown except for a diligent artist who captured that fleeting moment in a scene of celestial beauty and dramatic death.

This painting ended up in the USA because in 1918, the French government sent the artist and his war time artwork on a tour of the United States, ostensibly to raise money for the widows and orphans of slain pilots, but more likely to increase support for the US as it mobilized troops entering the European conflict. This painting was purchased in New York at the Anderson Galleries during the first exhibit on the tour, and then stayed with that family for three generations.

West Lydford Casualties, Le Cateau, 26 August 1914

Troops of the 4th Division at Le Cateau

On 26th August 1914, the 1st Battalion Somerset Light Infantry, part of the 4th Division of the BEF, were defending the village of Ligny near Le Cateau. During the day, they fought off repeated attempts by the Germans to outflank them. They were ordered to retreat later that day.

The British suffered around 8,000 casualties in the battle, two of which are young men from the village of West Lydford (Lydford on Fosse), Somerset.

Private 6749 William C Mintern (Alias: W ROSSITER). 1/Somerset Light Infantry, aged 26. Son of Fredrick W. and Ann Mintern, of 17, Market St., Yeovil.

Private 6748 Walter Tudgay. 1/Somerset Light Infantry, aged 30. Husband of Ethel Beatrice Tudgay and father of Irene Tudgay, of 42, High St., West Lydford, Taunton. Known to be a bell ringer at the local church. Walter's family lived the rest of their lives in West Lydford and are buried in the local churchyard.

Yesterday, the centenary of the battle of Le Cateau, today's bell ringers commemorated William and Walter's sacrifice by ringing the church bells at St Peters - the same bells Walter rang himself before they went away to war. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yPWUMsjxI3A&feature=youtu.be

The sharp-eyed amongst you will spot that Walter and William's service numbers are one digit apart. I like to think that they were friends who went off together, but never came back.

They have no known grave. As the battalion retreated, there was no time to collect the bodies of their fallen comrades, and so they were probably buried by the Germans after the battle in a mass grave. Both are commemorated on the La Ferte-sous-Jouarre Memorial and, of course, in the churchyard at St Peter's in West Lydford.

The La Ferté-sous-Jouarre Memorial commemorates 3,740 officers and men of the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) who fell at the battles of Mons, Le Cateau, the Marne and the Aisne between the end of August and early October 1914 and have no known graves.


You can read more about the battle here: http://www.britishbattles.com/firstww/battle-le-cateau.htm

Satnav and vinyl

 

It’s been a week of contradictions; I have both spurned and embraced modern technology.
I spent the weekend listening to my old vinyl records after having obtained what used to be called a gramophone, but which I believe is now called a turntable. Back in about 1991, I boxed up my LPs for a house move, and these by-now classic albums have languished in various attics ever since. I couldn’t wait to literally dust-off Dark Side of the Moon, even though I regularly listen to it on CD. As I sat on the floor of the lounge surrounded by album covers, protective sleeves and soft dusters, Any Colour You Like blaring, my wife came in.

‘I didn’t know you liked harpsichord music, darling. I have some lovely choral CDs in my bureau if you want to listen to some more.’

‘It’s not a harpsichord. Actually it might be a harpsichord. But it’s certainly a classic, especially on the original vinyl,’ I added, nodding sagely.

‘It doesn’t matter how you listen to your music, it’s not going to make it sound any better. You have to accept that it’s simply too old fashioned.’

‘It’s The Pink Floyd,’ I explained, giving the band their definite article as befits a true enthusiast.

 ‘Darling, Pink Floyd’s time has come, and gone – thank goodness. And please don’t indoctrinate our daughter into early-seventies, psychedelic rock groups.’

Our daughter moved gracefully around the room, impressively finding a rhythm to dance to in The Great Gig in the Sky.

‘You let her watch Mamma Mia,’ I countered, ‘ABBA are a seventies group.’

‘ABBA is timeless in a way that neither Supertramp nor Led Zeppelin will ever be.’ She smiled as if there was nothing further to say.

Led Zeppelin.

‘Oh, no you don’t,’ she said as I reached for the Song Remains the Same.

I’d bought the turntable on a whim during a trip to Currys earlier in the week. We’d just had a voluble discussion about the route home from a clock auction near Bath. It was no good; Google maps were simply not getting us closer to our mutual destination. In the same way that the mobile phone has supplanted the two pence piece as a means of facilitating telephone calls, so SatNav has replaced my AA route master maps.

 

As we left Currys, I tore open the packaging of my TomTom, and entered our home address into the keypad. Leaving the car park, I ignored the instruction to go left at the roundabout.

‘Darling, she said to turn left.’

‘I know; but that’s not the best way. It’s better to go straight on here, and right at the next junction,’ I explained.

My wife sighed, and although I know that the female voice inside the box on my dashboard has no emotions, I felt sure that her tone changed as I continued blatantly to ignore her advice, muttering to myself as she attempted to correct my deviation from her planned route.

And just as a homecoming is made so much sweeter when you navigate yourself there, even if accompanied by shrill instructions to turn round as soon as possible, so Money sounds far superior on vinyl, clicks and all. The only downside is that you have to get up and turn the record over after The Great Gig in the Sky if you want to hear it; you don’t have that problem with MP3.

Breaking the Trasimene Line on the forgotten front

British troops in close combat, Italy 1944

The Trasimene Line was a German defensive line during the Italian Campaign of World War II. The commander of German forces in Italy, Field Marshal Albert Kesselring, used the line to delay the Allied northward advance in Italy in mid June 1944 to buy time to withdraw troops to the Gothic Line and finalise the preparation of its defence.

After the Allied capture of Rome on 4 June 1944 following successful breakthrough at Cassino and Anzio during Operation Diadem in May 1944, the German Fourteenth and Tenth Armies fell back: the Fourteenth along the Tyrrhenian front and Tenth through central Italy and the Adriatic coast. There was a huge gap between the armies and with the Allies advancing some 10 km per day, the flanks of both armies were exposed and encirclement was threatened.

Two days after Rome fell, General Sir Harold Alexander, commander of Allied Armies in Italy, received orders from General Sir Henry Maitland Wilson, the supreme Allied commander Allied forces Mediterranean theatre to push the Germans 170 miles north to a line running from Pisa to Rimini (i.e. the Gothic Line) as quickly as possible to prevent the establishment of any sort of coherent enemy defence in central Italy.

Between 4 June and 16 June, whilst maintaining contact with the advancing Allies, Albert Kesselring executed a remarkable and unorthodox manoeuvre with his depleted divisions, resulting in his two armies aligning and uniting their wings on the defensive positions on the Trasimene Line.

By the last week of June the Allies were facing the Trasimene positions. The toughest defences were around the lake itself with fierce fighting on 17 June at Città della Pieve and 21 June at San Fatucchio. But by 24 June, the Allies had worked their way round to the north shore and linked and the German defenders withdrew towards Arezzo.

Gone in an instant

It’s a sickening moment when you realise that your lifetime partner, your kindred spirit, your one true love is not who you thought she was.

Of course, thinking back, I’d seen the evidence of her perversion, but chose to turn a blind eye imagining it was because the builders were in. I’d even caught faint traces of her other life on her breath as we kissed when I returned from work at the end of a long day scribbling.

But it’s one thing to suspect your wife, and it’s quite another to have your suspicions confirmed.  Yesterday, I caught her in flagrante delicto, cup to her lips, as she sat secretly in the kitchen, Western Gazette on her knee, and her paraphernalia surrounding her on the table.

‘Darling, don’t get carried away. It’s just milky coffee. I haven’t been having an affair.’

‘What are you doing?’ I asked as I stared incredulously at the tin on the table.

‘I’m having a coffee,’ she replied, making no attempt to deny it.

‘No you’re not, you’re drinking instant.’

‘What of it,’ she replied, ‘I prefer it.’

‘Prefer it? How can you prefer it to actual coffee?’

‘I don’t like that shivery feeling I get when I drink one of your espressos, darling. It makes me feel like I’ve got the flu; they’re too strong.’

‘How long has this been going on?’ I said as I sank into the Windsor chair by the Aga.

‘Darling, don’t get carried away. It’s just milky coffee. I haven’t been having an affair.’

‘How long?’ I demanded.

‘Since you got that wretched Gaggia.’

I’d had my beloved espresso maker for over six years before moving to Hornblotton when it finally gave up the ghost. All that time my wife had been sneaking into the kitchen, boiling milk in a pan, and secretly adding … granules.

‘I could have made you a cappuccino,’ I whispered pathetically.

‘Yes, but it would still have been too strong – and anyway, I don’t much like the froth; it spoils my lipstick.’

Was there no end? Did she have no shame?

‘Latte?’ I squeaked plaintively.

She shook her head, and took another gulp of her revolting beverage, turning her attention once more to the local paper. I could smell the milk from the other side of the kitchen; it turned my stomach.

Decline of the machines

Since moving to Somerset, I have had to manage without some of my favourite kitchen appliances: the dishwasher stayed in Scotland; the microwave is also absent, currently languishing in a cupboard because there are insufficient electrical sockets in our somewhat out-dated kitchen; and the Gaggia died when asked to produce coffee in an area where the water is basically made of limestone.

As my household chores revolve around making coffee and providing clean crockery to drink it from, I have had to seek manual alternatives. My morning regimen used to involve  pressing a button on the Gaggia. Once I had consumed my espresso, I simply placed my cup into the dishwasher, and went about my business, secure in the knowledge that my chores were complete until elevenses.  

‘My household chores revolve around making coffee and providing clean crockery to drink it from’

Now I must come downstairs, blurry-eyed and dry-mouthed, locate the coffee percolator and empty yesterday’s coffee grounds. Next, I need to scoop the grounds off the floor with my hand, and place them in the bin. Then I fill the percolator with hot water, add fresh coffee and place it on the Aga. Finally, I need to wipe the coffee grounds from the kettle handle, the Aga door and anything else I’ve recently touched.

 Next, the hunt for a cup commences. I usually find them in my study, lined up like a row of Babushka dolls from the ridiculously large 7am cup to the tiny it’s-my-fifth-of-the-day-and-my-hands-are-shaking cup. They all need to be washed up, so I wait while the water trickles into the bowl through the tap that is so blocked with lime-scale it is almost a stalactite; perhaps in time my sink might become a must-see extension to the Wookey Hole Experience. Then that zingy-lemon-freshness as I add bubbles. A few moments of splashing the cups around, and as I hear the percolator bubbling, we’re ready.

All this without any electricity and no harmful chemicals such as you might find in a dishwasher tab (I am not counting the tank of oil the Aga uses each month); I have unintentionally become an eco-warrior. I also start to wonder how much money I have saved since we moved South and I started doing things manually.

I don’t really miss the appliances; I used to hate unloading the dishwasher anyway, and I quite enjoy making the coffee from scratch. Recently, I have been looking at the other appliances, and considering the manual alternatives; I have bought a scythe and have invited my neighbour to let his sheep tend my lawn whilst I sell the mower, for example.

One morning last week when I was chatting to my wife about the pleasure I got from doing things by hand, I suggested she might like to consider abandoning her washing machine and her noisy vacuum cleaner. I passed her the Western Gazette, open at the free-ads, where I had already circled a washboard and a broom.

There was an awkward silence. Apparently, she is not keen to join my appliance-free revolution.