Do You Know Who Wrote This?

Well, of course you do. I have an entire page explaining who I am.

Even if Do You Know Who Wrote This? hadn't been trailed in every spare minute of Radio 4's broadcasting last week, I think I'd have made an effort to catch it. The play looks at online identities and the anonymity that people hide behind when they use forums, chat sites and social networking. Ten years ago I think that would have been a fairly niche audience but the explosion of social networking in the last decade has brought to the fore a lot of issues that were previously the territory of small, cliquey groups of geeks. I mean, I've even heard the word "trolling" used on Today. Not used correctly but it's a start.

I know a little about this subject because, for several years, I worked as an online moderator for a reasonably large American company. I spent my evenings patrolling discussion forums in search of the sorts of comments that no one wants their children exposed to. I've seen my share of spam attacks, "inappropriate content", flame wars and trolling. More trolling than you could possibly imagine.

The number of people who used their real names on the forum was probably close to a dozen, out of many thousands. It just wasn't done. Not by the members and not by the moderators either. Even when I left I didn't reveal my real name, all the users ever knew about me was that I was female and European. Anonymity was an essential tool to how we worked and an essential component to the discussions that went on, not so much because people wanted to hide their personality but because those real life names had no relevance to the world we were in.

It may sound like a lot of people hiding behind aliases but it was anything but. When people post under a name that has no gender, age, race or nationality attached to it then the responses are based on the content of that post, not the preconceptions that might go along with that name.

Using an alias to shield bad behaviour is a short term thing. If you're in a true community, with active members and an expectation of reasonable discussion then the reputation of your username is as important as the reputation of your real name. Strong communities are self-policing because they have a social code that's equivalent to those we have in real life. If you flame others then people won't take you seriously. It's irrelevant whether that name can be connected back to a real identity because your online presence will be discredited among your peers.

We should aspire to communicate in communities where content is key. A person's opinions, self-expression and online behaviour is what matters. The actual identity of the person typing the keys should be the least relevant of all things. If what you're saying is worth saying then people will respect you for it, regardless of the name that you use.

The play did a good (and funny) job of exploring the reach of our online interactions and the chaos that absolute truth might bring about. But I think it's worth pointing out that, in a strong community with clearly defined ground rules, flaming and trolling isn't an inevitable consequence of anonymity.

Which brings me back to my original point: do you know who wrote this?

Yes, because I made a concerted decision to write this blog under my own name and not an alias. I believe that if I'm going to post my opinions about things, especially if those things are creative works by people who might not agree with my opinions, that I should do that under my own name. I realise it may sound hypocritical when I've just defended anonymity but, for as long as the patterns and programmes I post about have a real name behind them, I think they deserve a real name in return.

Soapbox

In January, many popular areas of the internet took part in a blackout to protest against internet-related bills. Yes, these were American bills but this is the internet, there's not really any such thing as 'American' here. 

Broadly speaking, anyone who understood the internet was against these measures. With an extremely loud voice, the internet stood up and said "Um, actually... no" and the bills were shelved.

As in normal life, the internet has a very large silent majority and an activist core. The January blackouts raised awareness far beyond that core, reaching out to a lot of people who'd never really thought about what the internet meant to them.

A little like the Occupy protests, the blackout consisted of a lot of people saying, "No, that's not what we want for the world." The obvious next question is: "Well, what do you want?"

Far less like Occupy, the internet has an answer. Okay, so it has a few million answers. That's what freedom of expression gives you. But it has a rallying call:

 Please sign the Declaration of Internet Freedom

We stand for a free and open Internet.
We support transparent and participatory processes for making Internet policy and the establishment of five basic principles:
Expression: Don't censor the Internet.
Access: Promote universal access to fast and affordable networks.
Openness: Keep the Internet an open network where everyone is free to connect, communicate, write, read, watch, speak, listen, learn, create and innovate.
Innovation: Protect the freedom to innovate and create without permission. Don't block new technologies, and don't punish innovators for their users’ actions.
Privacy: Protect privacy and defend everyone's ability to control how their data and devices are used.

The internet isn't the newspaper of our generation. It's not the radio station or the town hall. It's the soap box and the park bench and the kitchen table of our generation. It's where we speak our minds, meet our friends and share our creativity. 

Oh, and if I've not swayed you with my argument, try this one from a fellow signatory

Patrick from Webster, TX
Our collective creative expression and potential for innovation has never been more transparent. The idea of actively cutting ourselves off from this pool of wealth and knowledge is beyond ridiculous. The Internet is not something you can control, only maintain. To attempt control would be to invite chaos. Please don't take away my porn.

The internet: Land of eloquence, creativity and pornography. Keep it free.

Balance

I've been busy this week. And last week. And I'll be busy next week. And the week after. In fact, I'm starting to look at November with a fond longing and a rose-tinted vision of a month filled with calm days, quiet evenings and free time.

For the last month I've been mentally penning a letter to Feedback.  Why, oh why, oh why... can't I find a concise way of explaining my complaint.

Hmmm. I actually just typed out a draft version and it was by far the most boring thing I've ever written. And I include university coursework on telescopes in that comparison.

This is going to sound a lot more rant-like than it really is but here's the basis of my issue :
I applied for tickets to the Now Show. It was made extremely clear that it was a random ballot. It would really have helped if they'd said when people would know by or, at least, how they would hear. But at least I wasn't really expecting anything to come of it.

What I did learn is that, if you're successful, you find out at least two weeks before the show. The problem is, two weeks isn't a lot of time when it comes to booking train tickets and hotels. 

Then I applied for tickets to Old Harry's Game and John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme (added benefit: I can now spell "souvenir"). The process was the same but, as there was no mention of a random ballot, I hoped that I would get tickets if I got in before it went to "Fully Booked".

I waited.
John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme booked up.
I waited.
I waited.
I concluded that I probably wasn't getting tickets.
I waited.
Yesterday I got an e-mail for Old Harry's Game on the same day that it booked up.
I was happily excitement to see Old Harry's Game.
I was vaguely confusion about the ticketing system.
Logically, I concluded that I wasn't getting tickets for John Finnemore because I'd have had an e-mail.
I decided it was time to find something else to do on Saturday night or change my plans and just go up for the Sunday.

This afternoon, I got an e-mail to confirm that I've got a ticket for John Finnemore too!

Now, the reason this post is called Balance is down to the fact that I got the e-mail ten minutes after learning that my car had (terminally) failed its MOT. After bad news, on an rubbish day in work, that's part of a busy week in a gloomy month, that was pretty much exactly what I wanted to see in my inbox.

So, although I have a bit of a complaint (which really just amounts to: if you can e-mail me confirmation for my application, why can't you e-mail me to say I don't have tickets? And two weeks notice isn't a lot of time to book trains and hotels) it's balanced by an even bigger thank you. Thank you, BBC ticket unit, you saved up a bit of good news for when I needed it.

Unfortunately I have the nagging feeling that, as I now have to buy a car, I probably shouldn't be spending my money on frivolous trips to London. However, I am choosing to ignore this feeling. Instead I am taking the "compared to a car, what's a trip to London?" approach.

Oh, and if anyone wants a 2001 Corsa, let me know. It's green, generally reliable and would suit someone with spare steering column.

Random != Fair

Or, if you prefer, Random <> Fair. Select your notation of choice.

Anyone who knows me (or, in fact, anyone who has investigated my Adventures tag) will know that I went to London in April despite the fact that the training course I was supposed to be on got cancelled. Well, it's now been rescheduled for late June so my attempt to book an unrealistic number of things to do in London has begun once again.

For years I've been wanting to go to the Globe but I keep ending up in London during the winter. This time's different so I've booked a ticket to Henry V (see previous ramblings about Henry V). And I've even rented a cushion, which seemed the sensible thing to do.

Excited as I am about going to the Globe, that's just one night out of a whole week so I've been watching the BBC ticket unit like a hawk in the hopes that something might come up. When the Now Show appeared a few weeks back I jumped on the chance for tickets. Unfortunately, it's a random draw for tickets and it's pretty clear now - two weeks after the draw - that I don't have a ticket.

Now this isn't going to be a massive whinging rant. I've seen the Now Show twice before (2002/3ish) so I can't complain too much. I also know that a straight first-come-first-served on tickets isn't fair because something like The Now Show is going to sell out in no time. But I also know that if I lived in London, I'd be putting in for every single ticket opportunity that came up.

Okay, so a "This is the first chance I've had to see a radio show in ten years, please give me preference" check box might be a bit too much to hope for. But a random draw gives everyone the same chance at getting tickets, regardless of the chance they have to actually attend a show.

I don't have a solution to this. I'm not suggesting that a first-come-first-served process would be better. I just wish that I was seeing the Now Show.

A Simple Challenge

The great thing about knitting is that it's simple. "There are just two stitches", we insist to all the beginners, "Once you can do them, you can do everything". And it's true. Okay, so we brush over the issue of badly written patterns, lace charts that look like someone scattered broken keyboards on a scrabble board and yarn that's so hard to rip back that you'd almost rather set fire to it than start over. But at the heart of all knitting you'll find those two simple stitches that you can teach someone in ten minutes.

I think that's why I so quickly get bored of straight-forward knitting projects. I need the challenge of a new technique, something I have to find videos for on youtube or just the quest for the perfect pattern to match a particularly lovely skein that demands to have justice done to it. The stitches aren't new so the way in which I use them has to be.

In short: this is why I hate knitting squares.

There is absolutely nothing positive to be said about garter stitch squares. They do not promote imaginative knitting. They are not enjoyable. They don't even get many points for volume because stocking stitch goes further. They're not good for beginners because all they show is just how pointless knitting the same row over and over again can feel. And yet, year after year, group after group, there is the garter-stitch-square blanket.

Don't get me wrong, the charitable / community aim behind these projects is fabulous. Yes, let's help people. Let's cheer them up or offer them an opportunity to be welcomed into a new craft. From blankets for the homeless to therapy through creativity, knitting can do a lot of good. 

But really, come on knitters, the garter stitch blanket? We can do so much better! The resources we have to give don't stop at our time and the cheapest, nastiest poundshop acrylic yarn! We may be creating fabric with our hands (I'll never get bored of that) but it's our minds that are our strength! We take yarn and we shape it to our will. Is your will boring, mono-coloured and square-shaped? Because I know mine's not.

So this is why I have trouble getting excited about projects that involve knitting squares. It's also why I was not amazingly taken with the idea of knitting bunting for the office. Especially when the consensus seemed to come down on the side of garter stitch.

Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit and increase. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit and increase. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit and increase. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit and increase. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit. Knit and increase.... Bored yet?

Once again, I don't disagree with the output. I work in an office where any hint of personality gets eyed suspiciously by the people who seem certain that 'They' will disapprove.

"They won't let you keep those up," several people told me, shaking their heads with regret as  I hung my Christmas decorations last year (tasteful, honest!). "I like it of course but that sort of thing is banned."

Well, we've spoken to Them and They're all for it. In fact, They want to know why we've not yarn-bombed the office yet. So during the summer the somewhat soulless office will be fractionally more cheerful thanks to some knitted bunting. And it's not all going to be in garter stitch.

Because it turns out that there are plenty of things more challenging than following a complex pattern. And one of them just happens to be the challenge of finding an interesting way to knit something that would otherwise be properly, mind-numbingly boring.

Some (left) have been more successful than others (right)
Hopefully consistency of size is somewhat optional

And am I bored yet? No, I'm not even close.

Ed Reardon's Week Statistics

I've been listening to some old episodes of Ed Reardon's Week over the last few days. I'd forgotten how enjoyable it is, even though (or maybe because) half the references go clean over my head. 

For a while I was considering an attempt at a Reardonesque diatribe for this post, complete with disparaging references to Radio 4 Extra (extra what, precisely?) and its schedulers (no doubt composed entirely of twelve year-olds) but neither my vocabulary nor my vitriol is up to scratch.

And so I shall resort to my own medium to make my point: data.

There have been seven series' of Ed Reardon's Week, running between 2005 to 2011. I've looked at the BBC programme pages and the number of broadcasts each series has had. The initial broadcasts of series one to three pre-date the records so I freely admit that this isn't exactly a rigorous, "More Or Less" level analysis.

This graph shows the number of times each series of Ed Reardon's Week has been broadcast since 2007 (1-3) or since its first broadcast (4+). I've eliminated direct repeats but included repeats on 4 Extra that followed more than a month after an initial broadcast on Radio 4.

Well, that doesn't look terrible but it's not exactly comparing like with like. Series seven has had the same number of broadcasts in 14 months as series four has since November 2007. How could I express that as a graph, you might ask. You might, but no reasonable person would.

Nevertheless the answer is, like this:

Due to the fact that I'm still not quite up to speed on Excel 2010, the calculations aren't as elegant as I'd have liked but this graph is attempting to show a sort of broadcast-per-day for each series. 

The time period for each is measured from the date of the first broadcast recorded on the programme page (so the caveat stands about series 1-3).

I realise that this post has turned into a exercise in how to thoroughly alienate your reader but the point I'm trying to make is this: 4 Extra, please stop repeatedly broadcasting the first two series' of programmes. Ed Reardon is only one example of many great comedies that are stuck in a repeating loop of their early years. Occasionally the third season comes along after a six months or so (Vent!) but, more often than not, series one starts again a year later.

It's okay if this graph makes you feel that I need to get out more.
It makes me feel the same way.

I do realise that 4 Extra is all about repeats. I love that! My listening experience would be a lot narrower without the fabulous range and depth of the 4 Extra schedule. I also realise that new listeners are probably more likely to stick with something if they can hear it from the beginning

But please, I'm begging you 4 Extra, consider the graphs, look at your own records. Series four hasn't been broadcast for four years. Surely longer-term listeners deserve the reward of something new from time to time? 

Because the alternative is more graphs. And no one wants that.

On scarf yarns (a rant)

I'll start by saying that I have no problem with any particular scarf yarns, nor with the people that knit with them. I know a lot of people have knitted with scarf yarn and, if you have, this rant is not aimed at you, it's aimed at the current prevalence of scarf yarns. No offence is intended to anyone.

Now that's out of the way, on with the opinionated rant...

Over the last year, scarf yarns have become huge. Every yarn shop now carries several and I'm not going to argue that they don't have their place in the knitter's stash. However there's something that annoys me about scarf yarns and it's taken me a while to realise what it is.

It's just one word: scarf

This is not about scarves. I am a worryingly prolific scarf knitter. I have three whole racks of scarves in my house. No, this is about the idea that the yarn is for a scarf and only a scarf. Do we go nuts for kits? No we do not. I think we generally see them as a perfectly good gift for a novice knitter but, other than that, we're not interested. So what is it about the kit-without-needles that is Can Can or Kidsilk Creation that makes us suddenly feel the need to knit a scarf that is carbon-copy identical to a thousand other scarves that are out there?

I don't know, but I do know that I feel sad every time I see a ball of scarf yarn.

What I love about knitting, the thing that gets me truly passionate about the craft, is the sheer limitless scope of what you can create. Your imagination is the limit. Okay, there are scarves and hats and jumpers but also chair covers and shopping bags and ties and wooly covers for tanks and yarn bombing projects and knitted bike covers and who knows what else! That's the truly beautiful thing about a ball of yarn, it could become anything in the hands of a person with the vision to shape it.

Even the scarves and hats and gloves that are made to well-worn patterns will have the little personal touches. Maybe a little longer, a few beads, 2×2 rib, exotic stripes or beautifully blended colour. You could put something I've made next to someone else's project in exactly the same wool and I'd bet nine times out of ten I'd be able to spot which was mine.

What makes me sad about scarf yarn is the fact that - with a very few exceptions - that scarf yarn will be a scarf. It will be as wide as every other scarf. It will be as long as every other scarf. It will look like every other scarf.  Surely all yarn deserves a more ambiguous destiny?

Don't get me wrong, the overall effect and the yarns themselves are genius works of imagination. The luscious ripples of Can Can and the lacy, looping halo of Kidsilk creation are fascinating and unique.  The attempts at non-brand imitations go to show just how hard it is to get these yarns just right. But that's where the creativity ends in a sea of uniform scarves.

They may as well have come out of a factory because half the work and all the originality has already been produced for you in those factories.

So do I have anything good to say about scarf yarns? Yes, I do. I really, truly hope that the wide availability of scarf yarns and the dependability of the results help to introduce more people to knitting. I hope that people see that they can enjoy using their hands and their minds to create something that is all their own. I hope that they take that feeling of achievement and seek it out again and again. As most of our knitting group know to their cost, it doesn't take much to make a person into a yarn snob!

This rant has been on my mind for a while. I've been more and more annoyed at the ever increasing range in scarf yarns in all the shops. And at the ONE pattern that's suggested on Ravelry for kidsilk Creation. And at the identical scarves I see on the street.

And now, I've had enough. Scarf yarn has been on my mind for so long that it has become a challenge. It taunts me. It says: if you think you can do better then prove it.

I've bought a ball of Can Can and it's absolutely not going to be a scarf.