I’ve been teaching myself how to code in Java for almost a year now, and have been doing so using the free ‘Processing’ application. It’s been an interesting journey so far, bur frustratingly slow – especially when wasting 10-15 minutes of each session refreshing my memory from the last time I could spend any time on it.
Those who know me, will attest that I do NOT fear the AI age, and know my view that talk of an existential threat to humanity from AI is utter arse gravy (thank you, Stephen Fry for such. wonderfully apt phrase). And yet, I have been reluctant to deploy any Large Language Model on my personal IT for fear not of armageddon, but of IPR theft (for that is what it is). I have been persuaded to use Claude.ai this week, however. Using their desktop API, and without a need for an account with access permissions, I can highly recommend this tool for those of you with an interest in coding who, like me, have neither need nor desire to learn how to code (my need to code is an enabler for some research we are undertaking- not an end in and of itself).
I wrote a brief paragraph explaining what I wanted, and the LLM then provided a precis of what I had asked for by outlining in numbered bullets what it was about to perform. The really impressive part was not just the resultant functioning programme, but more that it provided the code replete with ‘comments’ describing clearly the purpose of each block of code – invaluable for tweaking parameters to our heart’s content. Such an innovation will save us about a year’s worth of effort, and, moreover will allow us to carry on with the research we wish to undertake – an instance of “I want AI to do the dishes for me, so I can work creatively” – but the nerdy academic’s version.
And then there is the darker side of IT…no, not the dark web…much worse…online grocery shopping. I know, I know….that subject again! Trust me, dear reader, I too wish for a week in which I don’t have to mention it!
Asda (yes, I’m so miffed, I’m not even going to pretend at anonymity) ‘upgraded’ their online portal a few weeks back, and it has been an abject disaster. Simple search terms such as ‘foil’ or ‘suet’ are no longer recognised, and worse still are those passive aggressive SMS messages we’ve been receiving when their payment system sulks, to “maybe check you have sufficient money in your account”. The lowest, and final point on our back-pocket-slapping journey came this week, however.
About twenty minutes before our one-hour delivery window formally commenced, an Asda delivery can pulled up near our house and remained there with its hazard lights flashing. “They’re maybe waiting until the one-hour slot starts” I had thought. Not so. Ten minutes later they reversed and departed. Eight minutes after our one hour delivery window had expired, we received an email saying our delivery had been cancelled. It was due to circumstances beyond their control, apparently – and could be due to “something like illness, or a vehicle breakdown”. Clearly, they can’t be bothered to explain why you might not be eating that day, only suggesting two seemingly random things it could have been.
When we checked our online banking, the payment for the undelivered groceries had gone through and so I rang them. I think they apologised, but to be frank, the colleague’s English was so poor and fractured, they could have been saying anything to me. I did understand clearly that I shouldn’t worry though, as the payment would move from ‘pending’ (so unavailable for our use) to being back fully into our account within three to five business days. This is wholly unacceptable. We are fortunate enough to have extra funds which we could use for double payment of ‘the weekly shop’, but many do not have that luxury. How do companies expect people to manage with no food, and no means to buy some until they can be bothered to provide a refund – which could take as long as seven actual days it would seem?
This manufactured delay in refunds is galling. I know how quick (immediate, in fact) it is possible for funds to be transferred between banks, and so any delay is fabricated by the company itself as a result of the inflexibility of their behemoth finance systems. A choice. I told the colleague as much, but I doubt that the message hit home.
We have spoken with out feet, and have moved our custom to Sainsbury’s. The best thing about Sainsbury’s according to Stephen Fry…? It keeps the riff riff out of Waitrose. You’re welcome.
To lighter matters, now. I have tried and failed in my ability to assert coolness this week. One in private, one in full public view. The latter first. On a walk to the post box and the shop the other day, my left trainer split as I was walking down a busy road. There’s certain (forced) gaits one simply cannot style out.
You may know that I ‘practice’ Shakti, or at least I think that is what I do – I lay on a Shakti mat. To any uninitiated in the world of ‘Shakti-ing’, it is lying down on a mat of plastic needles. Try, it – it is so much more enjoyable than it sounds, and its benefits are wide-reaching. My top tip, though…don’t sneeze when you’re lying on a Shakti mat.
