Monthly Archives: April 2014

Mercedes F1 Powertrain for 2014

F1: Technisch vernuft in de praktijk



Wie vanmorgen tussen de paaseieren en de paasbrunch in naar de Grand Prix van China heeft gekeken, zoals ondergetekende, die zag een grote overwinning van Lewis Hamilton en Mercedes. Rosberg werd na een stroeve start tweede. Fernando Alonso met Ferrari knap derde. Los van die knappe prestatie viel op dat Vettel om de oren werd gereden door Ricciardo, en dat het hebben van de beste powertrain, een Mercedes, geen garantie is voor succes. McLaren eindigde kleurloos buiten de top 10. Continue reading

bui bij Nieuwland Parc Papendrecht/Alblasserdam Foto: Frank van Dijk

Why worry


Op deze zonovergoten dag toch wat berichten over wolken.

Het zal bekend voorkomen: een vacature gezien, je op het lijf geschreven. Enthousiast een brief gestuurd dat je de kandidaat bent voor deze functie. Binnen een week antwoord terug met een afwijzing. Dus niet eens een gesprek. Daar zakt de moed van in de schoenen, of verdwijnt de zon achter een donderwolk. Hoe met deze teleurstelling de moed erin houden? Continue reading

Sloviansk in Oost Oekraine Bron: BBC



UPDATE 15 april 10:30

Oekraine schijnt begonnen te zijn met zijn operatie. Te beginnen in Donetsk.

Continue reading

Sloviansk in Oost Oekraine Bron: BBC

Oekraine UPDATE

_74197192_slovianskDe berichten uit Oekraine zijn niet goed, om het zwak uit te drukken. Volg INterpreter liveblog voor meer informatie. Het lijkt op een covert operation die strategische wegen in Oekraine veiligstelt voor mogelijke Russische troepen. Dat dit ‘self defeence force’ zijn is dan ook zeer twijfelachtig. Zie ook de BBC. Ook XX Committee heeft input.

UPDATE 14 april 09:00 Continue reading

Foto van de Dag bomen in Dordrecht Foto: Frank van Dijk

Foto van de dag: Bomen in Dordrecht

Stamboom? Het groen komt in elk geval aan de bomen. WP_20140410_08_17_48_Pro

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Foto van de Dag spiegeling Foto: Frank van Dijk

Foto van de dag: Spiegeling


Foto van vanmorgen op weg naar stage. Een spiegeling in een spiegeling, of om bij Parsons te blijven: a dream within a dream

Een eerste poging in Notepad++ met html en CSS! te werken. Eerste opzet: een foto van de dag met beschrijving.
Vooral het plaatsen van de divs en het onderscheid tussen de verschillende elementen is lastig.

Foto van vanmorgen op weg naar stage. Een spiegeling in een spiegeling, of om bij Parsons te blijven: a dream within a dream

Bij het luisteren naar de muziek A dream within a dream van The Alan Parsons Project trof me dit plaatje. Een spiegeling in een spiegeling.

Nou valt er ook iets te zeggen voor The Raven

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door –
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore –
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore –
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door –
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; –
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; –
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore –
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; –
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door –
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door –
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore –
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door –
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.’

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered –
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before –
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore –
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of “Never-nevermore.”‘

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore –
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! –
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted –
On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore –
Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore –
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore –
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting –
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted – nevermore!


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