While each volcano is unique they can largely be divided into red volcanoes and grey volcanoes.

Red volcanoes typically have effusive eruptions dominated by the classic red-glowing lava flow or lava lake. The constant mild eruptions of lava let gases escape reducing the chances of gas build-up and larger explosions. A classic red volcano is Kīlauea in Hawaii.

Grey volcanoes are known for explosive eruptions. Trapped gases and heat can build up within the volcano releasing explosive eruptions that can shoot ashes and rock high into the sky and cause fast-moving pyroclastic flows of solidified lava and ash. Grey volcanoes are typically much more destructive than red volcanoes and can exhibit some behaviours like their red counterparts. A classic grey volcano is Mt St Helens.

I learned this distinction from the remarkable film Fire of love.

Order of adjectives (came to mind as I wrote 'classic red-glowing lava flow' - try the adjectives in other orders =) )

Red volcano, grey volcano

Braille is a tactile writing and reading system for the blind and visually impaired. It was invented by Louis Braille when just 15 in 1824. Respect! I don't know about you, but when I've tried braille on signs occasionally, it's always seemed difficult to train my fingers to differentiate the shapes and the dots. Perhaps it would have helped if I'd known how it worked.

Braille is based on a pattern of 6 dots, like a 6 on dice, with different letters, numerals, or sounds being different combinations. It doesn't match the shapes of written letters though, instead breaking the alphabet up into groups of 10. The first 10 letters are combinations of the top 4 dots. The following 10 letters repeat the combinations and add dot 3 in the bottom-left. Then the remaining letters, except w start again adding with dot 6 added. W wasn't in Louis Braille's original French alphabet so appears tacked on at the end.

Since its invention, it's gone through multiple iterations and languages, and there are combinations for punctuation (some common ones formed by shifting down the original 10 combinations), numbers, accented letters, maths symbols, and more. There is also agreed-upon shorthand where a letter may mean a common word eg l for like, and there are contractions where a symbol may mean a sound or set of letters like 'ch'.

The sketch shows the Latin alphabet for modern English braille.

Braille

At times we've probably all been confused or struggled to understand a talk or a class. When I'm lost or confused my rule of thumb is to ask, even when it's not easy.

The desire to understand what's being said fights with the urge not to interrupt the talk or ask what may be a dumb question — perhaps everyone else already knows? But in my experience, if I'm confused, others likely are too.

It helps to believe this because I know that asking will probably help others and not just myself — asking is a public service. It's very easy as a speaker to assume that others will know what you know and so jargon and TLAs (Three Letter Acronyms - really an initialism) so easily slip in. When someone asks it helps include everyone again.

And you're not just doing a favour for the audience by asking — it's a gift for the speaker too. If I'm giving a talk I want people to get what I'm sharing and not suffer in silence thinking they're stupid and I'm confusing. I want everyone to follow from start to end. It's one more good reason to thank people for the questions you receive.

Let's banish confusion and all get to the end together by asking the question.

This advice stands provided you've been paying attention along the way.

I was surprised to find there are a number of, mostly older, sketches on questions and asking:

Ask the question at talks

It's hard to beat the feeling of the warmth of the winter sun on your face. There's a word for it too: apricity. Uplifting, hopeful, calming — even a few short moments to bask in an unexpected, weak but glorious gleam of winter sunlight is wonderful.

A brief burst of apricity warms the spirits and your skin. It reminds me of distant warm, long, summer days, and the promise of spring in a few months. If it has been bleak and cold, apricity is that much more welcome.

From the UK's position in the Northern hemisphere, with the sun low on the horizon, you can let the sun hit full in your face in the middle of the day without craning your neck or leaning back. It's never too hot to seek shade, and often just the right brightness that facing it dead on with your eyes closed is ideal. Together with the long shadows of winter, the effect can have you swept up with the rays, letting them soak into your skin and transporting you away from the cold under your feet.

From the latin aprico, 'to warm in the sun', and in turn aperio, 'lying open', it has been around since at least 1623. It feels to me like we'd benefit from its resurgence.

Apricity

So does the willingness to seek out data. If none of us has data to share then we can't help but bring our own personal biases, preferences, and opinions to the table — anyone might be right, but who's to say (often the HiPPO: the Highest Paid Person's Opinion)? It's why I love this quote from W. Edwards Deming:

"Without data you're just another person with an opinion."

Perhaps you've been in a car with several backseat drivers who all seem to know better than the driver. Or maybe you've been part of a review for a new initiative where everyone has their own views of what will make it succeed. Or a discussion on what's driving some unexpected behaviour. We can't know who's right until we bring some data. It's amazing how even a little data can avoid an "I'm right, you're wrong" situation.

And where there isn't data, framing a discussion on how to quickly gather data or experiment to find out which approach may be best so often focuses a team, removing ego and opinions.

After all, as Jim Barksdale, former Netscape CEO said:

"If we have data, let's look at data. If all we have are opinions, let's go with mine."

Without data you're just another person with an opinion

Attribution bias includes a set of more specific biases where we may attribute behaviour to fixed personality traits or characteristics of a person rather than specific circumstances or actions. For example, a child may be labelled a genius or gifted when they actually had a supportive environment and worked hard, or someone may be labelled a loser rather than recognising specific circumstances that led to some failures.

Criticism — one of the four horsemen of relationship apocalypse — can become toxic when it's attributed to someone's personality traits. For example, calling someone 'lazy' rather than sharing how it makes you feel when they don't keep the place tidy.

A form of attribution bias may be applied to whole societies via the Destiny Instinct.

Specific examples of attribution bias include the fundamental attribution error and self-serving bias.

Attribution bias

Is it advise or advice? Devise or device? And if you're using British English, license or licence, practise or practice?

Handily, the general practice is to use an 's' for the verb, and a 'c' for the noun. So advise is something you do, and advice is something you give.

In American English, there is only license and practice for both verbs and nouns. However, in British English, you would you use license if you were licensing someone and what they received would be a licence — with a 'c'. And in British English, you would practise when you went to practice.

Some places suggest thinking of the '-ice' at the end as ice which is a noun. Whatever works for you.

License/licence and practise/practice are homophones

Also see, stationary and stationery, compliment and complement, affect and effect

Advise vs advice and other s and c's

The two most commonly used temperature scales are Celsius and Fahrenheit. The Celsius scale, named after Swedish astronomer Anders Celsius, sets 0C at the freezing point of water and 100C as the boiling point of water at 1 atmosphere of pressure — normal air pressure at sea level. The Fahrenheit scale has 32F as the freezing point of water and 212F as the boiling point. With 180F between freezing and boiling that means each degree Celsius is 1.8 degrees Fahrenheit.

Several accounts of the creation of the Fahrenheit scale exist but the general gist is that Daniel Fahrenheit set 0F at the freezing point of a brine mixture, 32F at the freezing point of water, and another point at body temperature around 96F (now 98.6F). He divided up the scale between these points giving a scale with helpful resolution.

It's interesting to think that for most of history there was no comparable way to say how hot or cold something was.

Having spent time on both sides of the Atlantic I've tried to get at least somewhat familiar with both of them. To convert between them in my head, at least around most air temperatures, I use a quick approximation. As 32F is 0C and for each one Celsius you move almost two Fahrenheit, you can roughly go from Fahrenheit to Celsius by subtracting 32 and dividing by 2 (or a little less to be closer). So 50F is approximately 9C (actually 10C), or 86F is approximately 27C (actually 29.4C). Not perfect, but often good enough if you're trying to work out if it'll be hot out. To go from Celsius to Fahrenheit it's the reverse, times by 2 and add 32.

Both scales are now actually defined relative to the Kelvin scale which sets the lowest point of 0K at absolute zero where basically all movement stops. Zero on the Kelvin scale is around -273C. As such the Kelvin scale, though helpful for scientists, is not very practical for talking about the weather.

Fahrenheit and Celsius

Redshift refers to light being 'shifted' towards the redder end of the spectrum — longer wavelengths — as objects move away from each other. If a light source is moving towards us then light is blueshifted, shifting towards the bluer end of the spectrum, shorter wavelengths.

Imagine waving a spring back and forth to create a wave and then starting to run away – the waves would be stretched longer. Because the universe is expanding 🤯 distant galaxies are moving away from us faster than nearer ones — imagine how the chocolate chips in a cookie move away from each other as the cookie bakes and grows in an oven. By comparing the redshift of light seen from distant galaxies with what we would expect to see it's possible to use redshift to determine how far they are away.

Redshift is an example of the Doppler effect, or Doppler shift, in action. It's more commonly known by the stretching or compressing of soundwaves as, say, an ambulance moves towards or away from you, or how the sound in front of a moving aircraft eventually can produce a sonic boom.

Redshift

Optimism bias is a tendency to believe that things will turn out well in spite of past evidence or circumstances.

It can be extremely helpful. It allows us to attempt things that many may deem impossible. It probably helps drive entrepreneurs even when everyone is doubting them. Optimists are often healthier and happier.

But it can also undermine us. We might overestimate our chances of success because of what we want to happen rather than what's likely to happen. We may feel pressure from others to give a rosier outlook — like when you might underestimate a timeline when speaking with your boss. We might want others to succeed, or they may be paying us money and be hoping for good news. We probably think we'll get more done next week. We probably think we'll be more disciplined than we will be. We might think that this time it'll be different, or that everyone can't be wrong. Or we may be just discounting evidence without realising it.

Related: Hofstadter's Law, survivorship bias, Kitty Hawk moment

Optimism bias

A ghost grid is a guide for organising thoughts, information and sketches, that doesn't compete with content.

Content itself can also be the ghost grid to highlight changes and help draw comparisons — as when you might sketch options for extending a house or designing a garden.

A grid is useful for structure and creation but needs to fade back from content or disappear when no longer needed. Like freeing data from its data prison, a ghost grid emphasises content and information without non-data-ink taking attention.

I learned the term ghost grid from Edward Tufte's Seeing with Fresh Eyes: Meaning, Space, Data, Truth.

I rarely buy other notebooks for work than a dot grid, preferably in a funky colour. Some of my favourites: Leuchtterm dot grid hardcover, Moleskine dot grid softcover, Moo soft cover dotted journals

Ghost grid

How do you avoid confusion when spelling things out verbally, particularly when the sound isn't clear or there may be background noise? So, for example, something like Y I V B D T doesn't unintentionally get heard as Y Y B P D D. Or perhaps as I Y P V T D. A lot of letters sound similar.

A phonetic alphabet, or spelling alphabet, is a way to ensure all letters are unambiguously heard correctly by using words starting with each letter. The set of words was chosen from 1,000s of tests, including real-life ones, to maximise clarity and avoid overlapping sounds with other letters that might cause mix-ups. When written out they include deliberate misspellings Alfa and Juliett to avoid misinterpretation.

The NATO phonetic alphabet is a standard one, but there are other variations.

Phonetic alphabet

Don't compare your back-of-house with others' front-of-house.

Usually, we only see others' front-of-house, and because we know all about our own house it's easy to find ourselves comparing how we're doing in the back with how others are doing in the front. Often a recipe for unhappiness.

I remember wondering how a friend was so calm before their first child. They said, "I'm like a duck, calm on the surface, but underneath my legs are kicking like crazy."

The truth is we don't know how others are doing so best not be comparing at all.

This idea is inspired by an exercise about the hidden parts of parenting from The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read by Philippa Perry, though I'm pretty sure as a metaphor it can be quite widely applied.

Front of house, back of house

'Plan ahead' is also a nice example of a pleonasm.

And I've lost count of how many times I've found this technique useful to draw a bike.

This idea was shared with me from this Instagram account.

Plan ahead

Phubbing: snubbing people for your phone.

We've probably all experienced it — heck, we've probably all done it at one point or another — or at least it's likely to be familiar. Someone in a restaurant waiting for their friends to put their phones down. A family gathering where people are no longer talking to each other. A teacher without the attention of their students. A child failing to get the attention of an adult who's trying to process some messages on their phone.

Research on phubbing, mostly since the word was coined, says it largely has the effects you'd think it would. The effects vary with who's being phubbed and who's doing the phubbing: bosses and employees, family members, parents and kids, or partners. Whoever's phubbing who, snubbing is a suitable root word for it — it's not so nice to feel snubbed.

I learned about phubbing from the Mind over Tech community — they also have a newsletter on forming better digital habits.

The word phubbing has the unusual distinction of being created for an advertising campaign to sell a dictionary.

Phubbing, you may have spotted, is a portemanteau. For more phone annoyance see halfalogue.

See, for example, Knausenberger, J. et al. (2022). Feeling Ostracized by Others’ Smartphone Use: The Effect of Phubbing on Fundamental Needs, Mood, and Trust. Frontiers in Psychology, 13. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2022.883901

Phubbing

A recap of some of the fundamental parts of a circle, including some that are easy to forget:

Diameter — a line crossing the circle through its centre. Also the longest straight line you can draw in a circle.

Radius — a line from the centre to any point on the edge. Also, half the diameter.

Sector — the classic Trivial Pursuit cheese, pizza or cake slice formed by two radii.

Area — equal to pi x the radius squared.

Circumference — equal to pi x the diameter.

Chord — a straight line touching any two points of a circle. The longest chord is the diameter.

Segment — the areas on either side of a chord, major and minor.

Tangent — a straight line just touching the edge of the circle without crossing it. It forms a right angle to the radius on the edge. Just as if you were able to lean a ladder against one.

More maths and science refreshers: States of matter, BODMAS (or PEMDAS), the 9 times table on your fingers, binary, incidence and reflection

Parts of a circle

When you're deep in, it may feel like you have no time to pause. No time to take a break, there's too much to get done. Perhaps no time to stop and think about how you're working. No time to step back and improve your processes or work on your tools. Maybe even no time to look after yourself, to recharge, to reflect, to take a walk.

As the metaphor goes, you may feel you have no time to stop and sharpen the saw. Until you do it, and then you may realise you have no time to not stop and sharpen the saw.

Sharpen the saw is habit 7 of Steven Covey's classic The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

Sharpen the saw

Metrics are like an onion: full of layers.

A simple question to ask can often be complicated to answer. Or we may find that we need to ask a different question. While it'd be lovely to have one simple metric to understand our business the reality is usually a lot more nuanced and interesting than it first seems.

Averages will deceive. Vanity metrics may wow —  by, say, quoting a total user count and conveniently ignoring whether those users are actually paid, active, or leaving. Growth overall can hide declines in other areas or product lines and vice versa. The people on monthly subscriptions may be doing great, while revenue from add-ons may be declining. New users may be signing up in droves while existing users are churning. Mobile traffic may be different from desktop, online sales different from store sales... In practice, it's the hard questions we're usually asking even if we don't know how to ask them.

It pays to carefully consider what you're trying to learn and to understand all aspects of a business before putting faith in the numbers. And it may make sense to start with simpler metrics first.

The metrics onion

The bus factor is how exposed you are if key people, perhaps with critical knowledge or skills, were hit by a bus.

Examples might include the only people able to keep a company running, restore a server from a backup, or someone who held the only key to unlock crypto assets of its customers. As a result, many places are set up with, or required to have by investors or insurers, some redundancy — say two experienced developers with knowledge of how a service works — to minimise the risk of a tragic accident also being a severe problem for a company or its customers.

As a metaphor, the bus factor may be helpful to consider without the need for people to actually be hit by a bus. It may be worth thinking through how you might operate if someone was late, missed their flight, was ill on the day, or simply quit. In operational roles, this will often lead to a minimum of two people for each key position if nothing else to allow one to take a break from time to time.

An alternative framing, with fewer fatalities, is 'what if we all won the lottery?' and so decided to go do something else.

Bus factor

Ma is the negative space — the space that makes the whole. Formed by the rather beautiful Chinese characters of 'Door' and 'Sun', like the sun gleaming through a doorway, it represents what isn't there and how that helps form what is.

Ma is present in art, including beautiful minimalistic ink brush drawings, and music where the silence and quiet that surrounds the notes help make a piece what it is.

Some vintage-related sketches: figure and ground, use white space with care, John Cage