You cannot take too much pains in making everything in equilibrio; that is to say that all forces should pass exactly through the points of greater resistance, or through the centres of any surfaces of resistance… Consider all structures, and all bodies, and all materials of foundations to be made of very elastic india-rubber, and proportion them so that they will stand and keep their shape: you will be these means diminish greatly the required thickness: then add 50 per cent Isambard Kingdom Brunel
Of course you add 50% 🙂 That’s what engineering is!
There is a general election rapidly approaching, a mere two years after the last—the idea of them being fixed at every five years having been quickly made a mockery of when it suited the incumbent government—and the media is full of calls to make sure I’m registered* I am, to make sure I go to the polls. Yet I can’t help but wonder why I should. Unlike the last general election where my vote might have counted, this time I moved to James Brokenshire‘s ultra safe1 constituency of Old Bexley and Sidcup.
Of things to do on a afternoon going to a place well known for excrement may not be high on the list. When that place is part of the mass Victorian infrastructure of London things are different though. So Heather, Gemma, and I went out to find Crossness Pumping Station.
Having enjoyed them greatly in 2014 and been a bit disappointed in 2015 (and missing anything in 2016 completely) we returned to see the tall ships grace the Thames again this Easter. They were back on form, with a relaxed festive atmosphere around the river bank of Greenwich. Walking down through the rather chaotic crowds around the tube station we were greeted by a little food market which served nicely for lunch—though we wished we’d known about the more extensive range of stalls we found later on the other side of the site.
Recently early spring bank holidays have found trips to Hastings but we fancied a change of scene. That led to a different bit of coast, in the old port of Dover. It was a short trip, for nothing seems to stay in Dover for long.