Favorited The Archivist In Me Turned This Blog Into a Book by Wouter Groeneveld

On occasion I’ve mentioned here that one way of ensuring longevity of this blog is to publish it as one or more books with a proper ISBN, and have the national library store their two obligated copies. We did this in my student association with our monthly magazine (with an ISSN not ISBN) and year books too.
My website is part of the national library’s web archive, but Wouter description is still of interest to me. He did some curation, do not much, and no editing. The paper version is likely more browsable than the website, even if a web viewer is called a browser. Sadly enough he had it made through Amazon, so should I go down this route still, finding a way of doing it with local (i.e. EU) partners only is step one.

This was a lovely month project that rewarded me with a physical artefact of an ever-evolving digital medium, solidifying words, sentences, and paragraphs in a way that perhaps might even envy The Internet Archive. As a hopeless sentimental person, flipping through the book, looking at the figures and reading the text makes me happy. And also embarrassed as there are plenty of contextual and grammatical mistakes in solidified as well.

Wouter Groeneveld


Trains at Atocha station Madrid

I spent the week in Ciudad Real in Spain, under an hour by high speed train (~200km) south of Madrid.

I was there for a plenary meeting of CEN/CENELEC’s joint technical committee (JTC) 25 that works on European standards for data management, data spaces, and cloud & edge. The need for these standards originates in the European Data Act. The event was hosted by one of the committee members at the University of Castille-la Mancha. It was a very warm week (up to 35 degrees) with intensive long days, but also nice to visit somewhere I hadn’t been before (photos on Flickr).


Group picture with local and national dignitaries immediately displayed in the University’s hallways


Flags of countries represented in the room (the meetings were hybrid)

Turns out, Ciudad Real is situated in the crater of a volcano, a maar. From the center of the town the roads all go up the slopes of the crater. Ground water is said to be warm and somewhat fizzy. The surrounding region has many volcanic structures.

Although Ciudad Real is at the heart of Don Quixote country, I did not see windmills (except as souvenirs in the nearby Almagro).


A mural of Don Quixote, on the streets of Ciudad Real

Despite the heat cool heads prevailed at the meetings, as is needed for the always consensus based development of standards.
It was good to meet several people face to face, also discussing informally what standardisation needs are connected to the notions of digital autonomy and sovereignty. As a result I joined the ISO JTC1 SC38 on cloud computing and distributed platforms, that have a working group on these topics.


11th century Castillo de las Guadalerzas and olive trees, from the train back, halfway between Ciudad Real and Madrid

The next plenary meeting will be in Oslo in October.

There is a lot of sloppy journalism out there. Obvious questions not asked, basic facts not gotten straight, numbers literally not adding up, tens to thousands of orders of magnitude errors. The perennial sensationalist phrasing and populist use of emotion laden words as supposedly neutral wording. And then there is ignorance of basic knowledge becoming a lens through which things become overly mysterious.

The Guardian writes (archive link) about a new Stephen Hawking biography, in which for the first time also the diaries of his father, and letters and journals from his mother were available as source. The article contains an image of his father’s diary entries for early January 1963. The image caption reads:

"Extract from diaries kept by Stephen Hawking’s father, who wrote many entries using a secret code that the biographer Graham Farmelo has cracked."

Secret code? Ooh, mysterious and intriguing! And the biographer cracked it! Roll over, Bletchley Park!
Let’s see if I can ‘crack’ it too.


Extract of a diary page by Frank Hawking of 3 January 1963, taken from the full page published by The Guardian in the link above.

Actually it’s easy. The snippet above is from Thursday 3 January 1963 and reads

St(ephen) wants a tape recorder for his 21st. They seem to be expensive (35GBP) and not very useful but as things are I would refuse him nothing. Later I went into London

Hawking’s 21st was a week later, was already ill, and soon after his diagnosis was that he would not live for more than 2 years (this is the ‘as things are’), and hence the ‘refuse him nothing’.

The code is no code of course, it is Greek script, used to transliterate regular English. Anyone could spot that it is Greek script, and anyone who had a year of ancient Greek at school knows how to do this. Pretending it is code to crack just tells me you’ve never bothered to register that there are other scripts and what they look like.

Writing your diaries this way is an easy way to increase the likelihood that someone finding it will not immediately be able to easily read it. It’s a small instrument to maintain some privacy and shield the people you name. Or to feel a little bit more protected so as to not self censor. So that for instance the first line of the day’s entry, which precedes the one above "This morning at five AM we made love. Later I went to Mill Yard (?) in Hobbe’s car." felt safe to write.

The article further down actually quotes Hawking senior, explaining it is Greek script used this way. So then the caption is perhaps not ignorance but only sensationalist. Still. A main Dutch news site repeated the Guardian while removing context, and at the same time promoting the image caption that Hawking senior wrote in code and the author had cracked it to a full paragraph at the end, so the ignorance propagates because its sensationalist implication is sticky.

I used transliteration myself this same way a lot in my twenties, and still do regularly. Whenever I am writing something private in public on paper I use Greek script (although I’m sure E and Y would tell you my handwriting is bad enough to serve as privacy shield all by itself). In primary school I taught myself cyrilic and used that, but that doesn’t map all that well onto Latin script, so many varieties of s related sounds in cyrillic. (I also tried to learn stenography on my own in primary school but couldn’t get to grips with it). Greek script, which I was taught in secondary school, maps much better, except it doesn’t have a v or w (Hawking sr. writes the w unchanged, and replaces the v with a reclining F as is common, which I use for the w actually as I write the v as I would an f, using φ) nor an h (which is solved by a diacritic sign on the next vowel that ancient Greek already uses.). I also have Greek and cyrillic enabled on my laptop’s keyboard, both because I need it sometimes, if rarely, for work purposes, and because sometimes I use them to make private notes on my laptop too when I am in public.

Not secret but private. No ‘code’, no ‘cracking’ other than learning to read someone’s handwriting, just transliteration.

The caption should have been "Extract from diaries kept by Stephen Hawking’s father, who wrote many entries using a secret code using transliterated Greek script, that the biographer Graham Farmelo has cracked could easily read after getting used to Hawking’s handwriting.

This weekend we took a train to Rotterdam. We decided to spend a day there, as our Canadian friends Peter and Lisa were coming up from Bruges in Belgium, which was the last stop on their cycling holiday. Before meeting them and after coffee the three of us strolled to and through Museumpark and visited the Depot of the Boijmans van Beuningen museum. The museum itself is closed a decade or longer for renovations to their 19th century building. Next door a new depot was built, which is a unique feat of architecture: a large mirrored bowl reflecting the full Rotterdam skyline, with a tree park on the roof. The depot is open to the public, with temporary expositions, and guided tours of the actual storage spaces for a dozen or so people at a time. Pixel Pioneers was the title of the temporary exhibition, featuring early digital game designs, digital art, and a special focus on the works of Geert Mul. Het already started exploring media art before the web, treating collections of images as databases and working with the patterns across them. We previously saw some of his work at Dutch Design Week I think. The Depot’s rooftop park is a thing worth seeing in itself, and we had drinks and a snack there.


The Depot building reflecting the Rotterdam skyline.

By then Peter and Lisa had reached Rotterdam too, and we met up at café Heilige Boontjes for a drink, and exchanging small gifts, before finding a place to eat in the Witte de Withstraat. We were early for dinner, it was a school night for Y after all, so had no trouble finding a spot. It was great to see Y talk with Peter in and play a game of hangman with Lisa, both in English. She had practiced her English before our trip to Portugal earlier this month, because she wanted to be able to converse with our hosts Bev and Etienne, and made good use of the experience she gained now.

Continuing our conversations we walked back to Rotterdam central station where Peter and Lisa fetched their luggage and we took a train home.

It is a bit surreal to meet friends from across the Atlantic for just a few hours. By definition that seems too short to due justice to the scarcity of such meetings and the geographic distance involved. At the same time it is also somewhat miraculous that such connections and meetings even exist at all, a triumph for blogging as Wouter characterized his own lunch last week with Peter and Lisa. Indeed every in-person meeting since Peter and I first met in 2005 was carried by all our blogging in between that preserves shared context. Within that 20+ years of shared context it makes perfect sense to meet even if only briefly, whenever the opportunity arises.

We spent a week and a half in Portugal this spring. Traveling together is something we do well with the three of us, and something I find healing. Although I found it hard at times to be in the moment, and to not let myself get irritated over small things.

It was Y’s first ever flight. Coincidentally my first flight was to Portugal too, albeit to Porto, and when I was 19, not 9 as Y is. It was as uneventful as it should be. After picking up our rental car we drove north to Caldas da Rainha for the first leg of our trip. My sister and her husband moved there for retirement after the pandemic, and this was the first time we visited them in their new habitat. I had planned to do so already a long time ago, but I never got around to planning a trip in time. This time we used Y’s two weeks of spring vacation, and actually planned ahead. We stayed in a nice AirBnB just outside Caldas, in the green hills, where we had a full floor of a much larger residence to ourselves, including the use of both an indoor and an outdoor swimming pool. The weather wasn’t very warm so Y enjoyed the indoor pool. We enjoyed the company of my sister and brother in law, explored the coast, visited Obidos and enjoyed several restaurants and coffee places in Caldas.


Obidos castle

We drove south again for a long weekend in Lisbon after three nights. It was the May 1st weekend, so a busy weekend in the city, and on May 1st itself public venues were all closed.
Lisbon was fun to visit, despite the barely tolerable Novotel, with a day spent in and around the São Jorge castle, in Belem and the earth quake museum, plus a morning at LX Factory. We also spent a day in Sintra, going there by train taking into account the parking issues when we visited the area in 2010 during an extended stay due to the Eyjafjallajökull ash clouds preventing our scheduled flight home.


A nice lunch with a view from S. Jorge Castle across Lisbon and the Tagus

We drove over the red 25 de abril bridge across the Tagus river (no shots were fired this time) further south to Sesimbra. Sesimbra is a fisher village and a popular seaside spot for Lisbon’s population, facing due south on the Atlantic coast. There we spent a few relaxed days with Bev and Etienne Wenger-Trayner, enjoying walks at the beach, the gorgeous view from their home across the Atlantic, and shared meals. Y and I played chess on the terrace, and Y used the English she practiced at home beforehand very well conversing with Bev and Etienne. We finished with an awesome dolphin watching tour from Setubal, where Y could almost touch them (and was splashed by them) laying on a net off the bow of a catamaran. We spent 30 minutes surrounded by a large group (over 15) of dolphins and their beauty and gracefulness overwhelmed me. Thinking back to a similar dolphin trip last year with my company team during the long goodbye of Frank I shed a few tears.


Up and close encounter with dolphins.

After a very nice goodbye dinner with Bev and Etienne at the cosy O Zagaia restaurant in Sesimbra, we drove back to the airport the next morning. This time we crossed the Tagus over the 17km long Vasco da Gama bridge, before returning the rental car at the airport.

Unplanned we did quite a bit more than we thought. My sister provided a filled programme. In a hotel like in Lisbon there’s mostly no other choice than to keep moving. Staying with our friends in Sesimbra provided the relaxed environment I realise I actually crave more of.


Chilling in Sesimbra at the home of friends

As I mentioned in my previous post The Long Walk, I struggle to get out of the house and away from my laptop to take short walks in the neighbourhood during the day.

We live at the northern edge of Amersfoort, and across the small Laak river in easy walking distance there’s a polder at the provincial border. The polder is old. The Laak river was canalised as early as 1200 and in the mid fourteenth century dykes were put up further north to keep out the Zuyderzee (now IJsselmeer, as it was dammed in the early 1930s after the last flood and dyke breach in 1916). Between the Laak and the dyke land was made dry (the Laak runs up to a meter above the polder). Breaches over time created pockets of wetlands behind the dyke. Close to our neighbourhood some of those wetlands that earlier disappeared due to land consolidation were reconstructed recently. Prime bird territory. A few weeks ago as we cycled through the area godwits swooped around us with their distinct cries.


The Laak river is the boundary between the city and a greener area that further north becomes the protected nature preserve Arkemheen

To get me out of the house more, E gifted me binoculars for my birthday this week. As the weather was nice, sunny but with cold winds, we took a short walk this afternoon to the polder edge where a shielded observation point has been built. It was beautiful out there as the silenes were colouring the wetlands purple. Lapwings were present, various types of ducks and geese, a black headed gull was doing some cool moves in the strong wind before dive bombing into the water to catch something.


Purple swaths of silenes in the wetlands