TELEDRONE
Building the flying p̶h̶o̶n̶e̶-̶b̶o̶o̶t̶h̶ boat!
Tuesday, March 31, 2026
Unalloyed Joy
Unalloyed Misery
Talking yesterday about aluminium though, weren’t we? Well in a news feature this morning on Radio Four, a nice man who runs the UK’s one remaining smelting plant says that what has occurred in the Gulf has added 40% to the price on top of whatever stemmed from ongoing war in Europe.
Customers are urging them to increase output, except they cannot because beyond the hydro power they use, the UK has among the most expensive energy markets anywhere ~ thanks again, Margaret. Aluminium is known as the 'energy’ metal for the amount required to make it.
Steel is something else, the few remaining plants we have being outdated, foreign-owned and unable to smelt raw product as against scrap; which given a bonfire the Scout movement could probably manage. Remaining facilities will be kept open by subsidy, which usually lasts long enough for nobody to notice the eventual closure. Ideally they’ll brand support with a name like ‘Phoenix’ although ‘Albatross’ would probably be a better choice.
And then there’s food, the bulk of which we import in order that we can enjoy year-round salad with crushed avocado on sour-dough bread. As a consequence, one in five trucks here shuttles food, likely returning empty so as to use more diesel; given that it too is now exorbitant.
On a steely job yesterday ~ unloading sinks from a Chinese container ~ I was asked if I was ex-Army, being the only driver ever to assist the heavy lifting. Turned out my newly-met colleague was... tho' asked were he ready for a call up now reserves are on notice, he said he wouldn’t fight for a country he no longer believes in.
Given how successive governments have treated his like, I’m not really surprised.
Ed. And breeeeeeeeeathe. Crushed avocado on soda-bread for me too, please?
Monday, March 30, 2026
Wooden Wonder... ing
I’ve probably seen three different types. One an extruded section of aluminium bent to the required outline; another cast as a single component; or that here assembled from stock lengths of tubing joined by connectors. Don’t worry too if your fellow passengers take exception at you taking pictures ~ tell them as I did that you’re a foot-fetishist.
You might be aware that the series of drones I produced and flew ~ or got someone to do so ~ generally comprised a space-frame made from such tubes and connectors, with the intervening spaces filled with foam sheet to prevent shear. And which other frames were filled out like this, children? Correct... wattle-and-daub timber-framed buildings in the Middle Ages!
Nonetheless I abandoned alloys when it came to the boats because (a) they involved a long drives to collect and (b) the war in Ukraine upped prices considerably because the bulk of it is sourced in Russia... the effect of tariffs and sanctions generally being global economic whack-a-mole.
So that’s one sign of the times, and another is that foam-and-ply aircraft appear to be the go-to method of raining destruction in both Ukraine and the Persian Gulf as of late.
And so I use wood not only because it's cheap, readily available and ecologically-friendly but also because there is a deal of satisfaction in doing so. Riva’s wooden speedboats that plied the Italian lakes were probably the pinnacle of boat-building, and likewise the Mosquito that De Havilland produced in WW2 was unique in being built almost entirely in wood (for the reason back then, as now, metal was scarcer with steel going into bombs and alloys into aircraft carrying them).
Ironically at secondary school I much preferred working in metal, which neither warped nor split. I still have the cannon I made at school under the tutelage of Mr Powell. What I did with this was scrape the phosphate of any number of matches and pack it into the barrel before inserting red-hot wire into the vent: with spectacular results. This we did in the workshop, whereas nowadays I suspect there is no woodwork, no metalwork and no teachers allowing cannons to be fired off in class.
Which is why at the possible dawn of WW3 we are ~ as in two previous ~ up shit creek.
You had to walk through the wood shop to access the metalwork, and the smell of fragrant hardwoods on the rack was divine ~ sorry about that, orang-utans.










