All is revealed...

On Tuesday 6th May, in case you were wondering, the Eton King's Scholarship exams took place.

Now, I know perfectly well what you're thinking. You're thinking: 'What on earth is he talking about? Has he finally flipped? Has his blog been taken over by the Eton College ICT Department resident hackers? Has he come up with some stunning piece of wit on the subject of the Scholarship exams? Or has he (heaven forbid) taken to advertising?

You'll probably be pleased to hear that none of these could be further from the truth (although the advertising idea certainly sounds tempting). The simple, straightforward and several orders of magnitude less exciting answer is that I took the exams. I sat down in a hall with around 100 other people and took some tests. See, I told you it wasn't a very exciting answer.

The more interesting - and indeed fortuitous - part, however, is that I passed. The results were pretty good - in at least one case (I'm not telling you which) surprisingly so - and I somehow managed to grab 4th Scholarship.

So what about the title? 'All is revealed..'? What, you are thinking, does that mean? Nothing's been revealed. Or has it..?

Well, I suppose I'll have to tell you now. Getting an Eton Scholarship was the ultimate aim of my secret plan, despite the fact that it was neither very secret nor much of a plan. But you can't be picky with these things.

So now you know it all, and a very good thing that is too. But I think I'd better cut this post short before it gets too heavy and unwieldy, or possibly before I get unbearably smug, whichever is the sooner. Until we meet again, Adios!

All Quiet...

Well, here we all are again. Much changed since I've been gone?

I'd like to be able to say I haven't had the time to post recently, but really I've just been a bit stuck. Hopefully I can try and unstick myself briefly. (Fine, so 'unstick' isn't a word. But it ought to be.)

What's the time? 18:55. Which actually makes it 19:54, since my clock is 59 minutes slow. Twenty-two hours and six minutes until finally my grand master plan reaches its climax. Wow. Oh, er, give me a second...

[Brief interlude for picking-up grandparent.]

Sorry about that, my grandmother arrived. Where was I? Oh yes, my secret plan...

What do you mean, 'What secret plan'? The secret plan! You know! Ok, so maybe you don't. Well, I mentioned it here a little while back if you're interested. Not that I really described it in much detail (although isn't that the point of a secret?).

But anyway, now you know all about the secret plan (figuratively speaking) I suppose it's worth moving on to more pressing matters. Like cellular automata.

So, hands up all those who've heard of cellular automata. If you haven't got your hand up, then perhaps you'd like to use it to click on this link to the Wikipedia article on the subject. If you want the definition in a nutshell, imagine you have a sheet of squared paper and colour in some of the squares (although usually they're called 'cells'). Then imagine you have another sheet and, by applying certain rules to the first sheet, create a new pattern of squares. That's a cellular automaton.

Take Life, for instance. That's 'Life' with a capital 'L', by the way. Formally known as Conway's Game of Life, Life is probably the most widespread cellular automaton around. Part mess, part beauty, Life has deceptively simple rules:

1. Cells can be in one of two states, alive or dead.
2. If a cell is dead and has exactly three neighbours - either horizontally, vertically or diagonally - that are alive, it will become alive the next time the pattern is redrawn.
3. If a cell is alive and has either two or three neighbours that are alive, it will stay alive when the pattern is next redrawn. Otherwise, it will die.

Are you following all this so far? Good, you'll need to be...

The Game of Life is barely the beginning, though. For a wide selection of interesting rule possibilities and an easy way of tying them out, Windows users can try Mirek's Cellebration. If you've got a Mac, I haven't found very much for you except Golly, which nevertheless has plenty of Game of Life patterns to keep you entertained.

Well, I'm afraid that's all for now. My secret plan beckons!

Deja vu (again)

Phew! Where does all the time go? Sorry I haven't posted in millennia, I've
been largely occupied with the final stage of my secret plan. What secret
plan, you ask? Ah, well that'll have to be a secret a little longer. But I
digress...
This morning a thought struck me, which is rather ironic considering it was
to do with all the other thoughts that strike me so often. The gist of the
matter is that I appear to have a remarkable, if distinctly annoying,
propensity to realise things that, actually, I had already realised not long
beforehand. In other words, realisation déjà vu.
If you're still confused - and judging by my general shortcomings in coherent
ability, I wouldn't blame you - a case in point is my examination technique.
Let me run you through it:
1. Receive exam.
2. Do first few questions. Pretty easy.
3. Look at questions coming up, and see that they're very difficult.
4. Panic and stall.
As techniques go, it's pretty bad, but that's not the point. The point is
that every time it happens I treat it as an utterly new revelation. I never,
ever, ever, ever, EVER think to myself: 'Hmm, I'm sure I've realised this
before.' And the thing is, it happens all the time, with everything I do.
When I do something I do often, I always think: 'Well I sure do this a lot.'
Always. Without fail. I know afterwards what I've done, but it doesn't stop
me.
So remember, be very careful with what you think. You just might not be able
to stop thinking it. Hmm, I'm sure I've told you that before...

Let it snow!

Would you believe it? More snow! Where's it all coming from? Just in case you need proof, I've provided some photos. There's also some pics of my recent visit to Chedworth Roman villa. A small but exquisite section of the mosaic found at the villa. Some of the remaining walls, still in surprisingly good condition. Footprints in the snow (sorry this is not rotated!) My rather inappropriate choice of footwear.

April Fool!

This being the day of jokes, tricks and other such tomfoolery, I think I may as well write a little about this year's festivities as far as I am aware of them. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the fun!

• Flying Penguins: This BBC documentary preview dispels the common myth that penguins are incapable of aviation. Who would have thought it?
• Gmail custom time: Make your emails arrive whenever you like. Never be too late again!
• Wikipedia's Manic Main Page: The famous open reference site goes a bit batty today. Take a look at the 'On this day...' section in particular.
• A whole lot more...

N.B: I'm also a mite suspicious about Google's new 'Google Weblogs' feature, as mentioned on Blogger Buzz. Can anyone shed any light on this?

Duck race photos

Yet more photos from me. These are some I took at the annual duck race. For the uninitiated, a duck race works as follows:

1. Take a load of rubber ducks.
2. Bet on which duck will win.
3. Chuck the ducks in a river.
4. Note which ones reach the finish first.
5. Fish them all out again.
6. Award prizes.
7. Go home.

But I digress. On with the pictures! A big pile of ducks. Top of the heap. The stragglers.

Flippin' Eck!

Opened my blind a few minutes ago and the countryside is covered in snow! What is this place coming to? Snowfalls in March? On Easter Sunday? Even I can't help thinking that someone is having a laugh. Quite what bearing this might have on our Easter Egg Hunt I don't know. Old dullard that I am, I will only be joint organising this year's festivities, but whether we really want our sole contestant scrabbling around in the snow trying to find a clue is rather doubtful. So indoors it may have to be.

I read by means of the BBC News RSS feed that the situation is so bad as to merit a weather warning, which is more than slightly unnerving. I also read that a seaside hotel has caught on fire, bishops are getting a little hot under the dog-collar about embryo research and that Staffordshire police are spoilt for choice with five different murder suspects from whom to take their pick. The mind boggles.

Damned statistics!

The question of statistics is, without question, an oft visited topic, but what sort of bearing does that really have on a rural teenage schoolboy? A very good question, and the blunt answer is 'The wrong sort'. At the very moment I write this, I am surrounded by people who, on a daily basis, can and will spout out, argue over and compare numbers and facts containing not the slightest meaning to the uninitiated.

Let us start with probably the most recent and divisive statistical craze to hit us around here, that of the trading cards called 'Match Attacks'. The basic premise of these is based, not altogether surprisingly, around football. Each card depicts a footballer and quotes their estimated 'Attack' and 'Defence', the calculation of which is beyond me. I would put the entire number of different players available somewhere in the quadrillions, and the number grows alarmingly. As one might suspect, they can also be traded for other cards, either to get some better numbers or just to build one's collection. There is, apparently an associated game on top of all this, but I am unable to say very much about it.

But, as I mentioned earlier, the worst part is that the very mention of the words 'Match Attack' will cause an explosively wide range of reactions. Some love it and play it with wild abandon, others despise it with a passion. So much so, in fact, that there exists an 'Anti Match Attack League' that actively encourages the destruction of cards. Being a stalwart fence-sitter it doesn't really bother me either way, although if I could turn a corner just once and fail to find a single card awaiting me then it would probably please me quite a lot.

Even worse than these on the 'my pointless number is bigger than yours' front, however, are those maddening and almost unbelievably lucrative trading card and media franchises such as Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh. I quote for you here an imaginary, but not entirely implausible, conversation between two fans: "Hi! Do you play Me-No-Good?" "Why yes, as a matter of fact. Fancy a game?" "Of course! You start." "Right. I'll play Mr Bun the Baker. That's two Basic Paperclips to me." "Curse you! Now it's my turn..." [Some time later] "Ha! My Triple-Conjoined Tyrannosaur beats your Mega Sardine of Doom! 9847583758 Bing-Bong points!" "You *@%$£^~!" "Just surrender now, and avoid a slow and painful defeat!" "I'm not done yet! Take a look at my Double Pikachu with added Wham-Wham!" "Flipping ^*%@!!" "Plus that means I can play my Inverse Riffle-Shuffle, gaining me an extra 13842237834467 Bing-Bong Points and a Quadruple Cheese Grater! I win!" "Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!" "Well, there we are then. Good game, eh, old chap?" "Yes, old man. Splendid."

You see what I mean by 'pointless numbers'? Who would have thought it was possible to gain so much joy from such a premise?

Dragon Building for Dummies

For a little while, I had wondered what I was going to talk about. And then,
it occurred to me:

Dragon tails!

No, I'm not mad. Or rather I am usually, but not this time. No, I'm going to
tell you how to make the tails of dragons, the perfect props for any play (so
long as it involves chopping the extremities of large fictional lizards).

You will need:
Lots of chicken wire
Lots of patience
Lots of Mod-Roc

N.B: Mod-Roc is a cotton mesh coated in a substance that, when wetted and
left to dry, works just like plaster of Paris. It's a lot easier to use than
the normal stuff, because it comes in huge long sheets. And it's brilliant.

What to do:
1. Take a fair amount of chicken wire and roll it into a cone or tail shape.
2. Secure the shape by snipping the wire and twisting it around itself.
3. Cut off a piece of Mod-Roc in a size that suits your needs.
4. Stick your Mod-Roc onto the chicken wire where you want it.
5. At the edges of your piece of Mod-Roc, tuck it into the chicken wire so it
doesn't dangle down too badly.
6. Repeat steps 3-5 until the top part of the chicken wire is finished.
7. Turn over when dry.
8. Repeat 3-5 yet again on bottom part until finished.
9. Over the open end of the cone, drape more pieces of wet Mod-Roc.
10. When dry, completely cover open end.
11. Paint when completely dried.

Optionally, you can also glue on cardboard spines before painting and put
Mod-Roc on these, too.

So if you ever need the tail chopping off a dragon, you know what to do!

Out and about with a camera

Some pictures taken around the place, largely near my house. I hope you like them. Welford church, a round-tower one. These are fairly rare, or so I am told. Some snowdrops in Welford park. The place is covered in them. Daffodils at my school, in the garden.

Music matters

No more Mr. Nice-Guy*, time to air some opinions!
Recently, a thought trickled (that being about their maximum speed as far as
my brain is concerned) from the deepest recesses of my mind to what - in a
completely non anatomical way - could be called the forefront of my
consciousness. It could roughly be described as follows: I am interested in
music.
Pretty dull, you may think, and I would be very much inclined to agree with
you on that point. But up until now I hadn't really noticed it. I'd hear
something on the radio, and I'd think: 'Hmm, nice music' or 'Hmm, not so
nice, music'; and that was about it. But actually, I actively enjoy
listening. Or at least, sometimes I do. For instance, these are what might
put me off.

1. 'Choo' - or something of that ilk, replacing 'you'.
2. Random key changes, although usually these just make me groan a little.
3. Pathetic scansion in lyrics.
4. Not even singing.
5. lots more, sadly...

You know what I'm grasping at? You're doing better than most people I talk
to.

* If I ever was what you might call 'Mr. Nice-Guy', that is.

Part Nine: May contain spirits

“So,” the medium sneered nastily, “we have a murderer do we?” It was a little later that morning and Mr. Torrall seemed to be regretting his choice of the cheapest medium available. She was a wizened old crone of at least 150, the perfect spiritual-contactor stereotype, but that only unsettled the staff further. As far as they were concerned, superstition was for those too dim to understand science. Mr. Torrall, however, seemed perfectly capable of handling the situation himself. “Yes, that’s right,” he said slowly and patronisingly. “We’d like you to work out who it is.” “I know that, fool!” she snapped. “Age isn’t everything, you know! Now let me see…” There was a long pause. “Well?” said Mr. Torrall, impatiently twirling his moustache. “The killer has facial hair,” Mr. Torrall adjusted his tweed jacket; “is well suited,” Mr. Torrall wiped the sweat off his balding head, “has a receding hairline…” Suddenly, Mr. Torrall sprang up. “Wait a minute,” he cried in indignation, “that’s me!” “Yes,” the medium shrieked, rising from her seat as well, “murderer!” “But it was my half day!” Mr. Torrall protested. “I was out fishing!” “Exactly!” shrieked the medium again. “Murderer!” “No, you don’t understand,” broke in the headmaster, feeling it was his job to intervene. “We want someone who murders people, not fish!” “You must be specific in what you require from the spirits!” she replied, looking offended. “No, there are no ‘people-murderers’ here. But there is something strong, something that drowns out all other spiritual voices.” “What is it?” said the head nervously, despite his intuition. “I cannot tell,” she replied, concentrating hard. “It is all around us, like a great spiritual screaming!” The head, who had had quite enough of this mumbo-jumbo, decided he ought to make a move. “Well, thank you very much,” he said hastily, a hint of uneasiness in his voice. “We’ll remember you if we ever need some more ‘guidance from the spirits’,” he added, enunciating the inverted commas to perfection. The medium scowled briefly, and then swept out of the room. Silently, so as not to offend Mr. Torrall, the staff breathed a collective sigh of relief. This was in fact unnecessary, as Mr. Torrall was already very much offended and had gone off the idea of mediums altogether.

Exam panic

I was going to post some photos today, but sadly the school computers are
devoid of camera memory card readers. And to think they call them 'up to
date', hah! So instead I'm going to have to tell you about the coming exams,
although I know I'm going to regret it later. Still, here goes...
First of all come the French speaking tests, or Orals, a little like the
tremor before the main earthquake. So long as you know enough vocabulary this
isn't particularly hard, provided you don't lay on a silly accent. I have my
oral on Friday, so no worries there [insert sarcastic laugh here].
Then come the main body of exams. These are rather cleverly arranged to come
after a holiday, during which the organised pupil can do some manic revision.
The preps (a bit like homework, but not at home) are set aside for yet more
revision and even more panic, until by the end of the week you're a nervy,
frazzled wreck for whom the weekend could not have come soon enough.
Well, at least there's some good news. After the exams, we spend a lot more
time rehearsing for our play, so much more in fact that one of the preps has
to be abolished. What a shame [insert even more sarcastic laugh here]. Not,
of course, that the play won't leave us utterly knackered by the end of term.
But such is life.
Tune in next time, for more fun and (hopefully) photos!

My school - a day in the life

• Time: Early
• Location: My bed, My dorm, My boarding house, My school, Berkshire, England

I wake up, as always, early in the morning. My brain is, to put it lightly, not working to its full capacity. I try and gather my thoughts for several minutes, until eventually the house master opens the door and sweeps all them all away. I am expecting this, as half the doors in the house make an appalling racket and my dorm is near enough to the end for there to be a significant creaking build-up. The curtains are rattled open also, leaving the room bathed in a pleasant light. I haul myself up to sit and peer through the two windows visible from my current position, one in my dorm and one in the room opposite. Both reveal largely tree branches, but the lighting difference is evident. Behind me, the many spreading twigs are flooded from the front with the sunlight, revealing every scrap of lichen and change in colour. In front, a little way away in the opposite dorm, very similar twigs are silhouetted against the bleached white sky. Pleasingly different.

---

• Time: A little later
• Location: See above

The light is turned on, and I climb out of my top bunk blinking.Painstakingly, I tear another leaf from my 'Easy Answers Science Calendar' - or something like that - in search of this morning's enlightenment. I read the day's entry and feel a little cleverer. Then I dress and trudge downstairs for washing, teeth brushing etc. It's a little quirk, albeit quite logistically sensible, that everyone does their teeth before breakfast. With this done, I go to the main common room and attempt to divine which sofa has lost the least stuffing. I sit down and watch the news, which is showing inaudibly on the television in the opposite corner. Soon afterwards we go.

---

• Time: Quite a bit later
• Location: Lower field, just outside the house

The main portion of the school lies a short way from the house, meaning that to get there you have to cut across one corner of the playing field. There is a lot of frost this morning, which is surprising - given the fairly warm weather of late - but not entirely unexpected. It really is quite cold.

---

• Time: Breakfast
• Location: The dining hall

I have breakfast, unsurprisingly. Cereal, some food or other, and toast. Highly nutritious.

---

• Time: Lessons
• Location: Various

Lessons go along nicely, as always.

---

• Time: Break time
• Location: Somewhere

Dull.

---

• Time: More lessons
• Location: Various

As before.

---

• Time: Lunch
• Location: The dining hall

Chinese New Year recently, so Chinese food for lunch today. Chopsticks too. Quite how the Chinese can live with eating implements like that is quite beyond me. I imagine it takes them an entire day just to eat breakfast one piece at a time. I have some unidentifiable curry and some rice. The headmaster says that it is traditional to eat the animal whose year it is, so as it is the Year of the Rat I'm thankful for once that I am a vegetarian. It later turns out to be something mediocre like beef, but not before someone has thanked the kitchen staff for 'the rat'. What a laugh! We also have watermelon, easily the most disappointing fruit known to man.

---

• Time: Rest
• Location: The music school

A quick tinkle on the ivories before the sports session. Practice makes perfect!

---

• Time: Games
• Location: The sports ground

I do sports. Badly. It's a miracle they've actually managed to find people my equal. I am what the more sensitive teachers call 'in it for the enjoyment';, and they are what I call 'wildly overstating'. Putting all that to one side, I do actually enjoy it.

---

• Time: Yet more lessons
• Location: Pretty obvious

Lessons. You know what I mean.

---

• Time: Tea
• Location: Brink of insanity, somewhere in the dining room

This is about the time when I start feeling like throwing myself in the path of a large ballistic missile. I have to supervise one of the tea tables, even though there are probably a number of human rights regulations explicitly banning it. Trying to serve 10-12 unruly school pupils an entire meal, and get them to clean up afterwards, is no easy ride. Take it from me.

---

• Time: Bed
• Location: The house, again

Thank goodness for sleep! One moment you're yawning beneath the sheets, the next an entire new day of pure horror has arrived. Goodnight.

Pics pics pics!

Here's the latest dose of photos from the JakeC album. I haven't got time to include info at the moment, so please be patient.

My favourite: Games

I was going about my daily business recently when I was struck by a thought not dissimilar to the one a couple of posts ago. One-off spurts of fun and stuff are all very interesting, but maybe a little series of posts would be nice? I've decided on a 'My favourite' theme, starting with games...

Aside from all the other things I do, a good game is always a nice break between everything else. These are some I enjoy.

Fancy Pants

If you've ever had the desire to control a fast and agile stick-man in garish trousers around a series of spider-infested levels, then this is the game for you. There are two games to choose from, the original game and World 2, each with its own merits. The second one is more challenging, and you can choose a different trouser colour if you're dissatisfied with your current style. The first level has the advantage of being - in my opinion - a little easier, plus it has an angry penguin at the end, which is always a bonus. Whichever one you choose, they're both a real laugh.

Free Rice

If you're good with vocabulary, like a good game and want to help relieve world hunger, take a look at Free Rice. If you guess the meaning of a word correctly, the site donates 20 grains of rice for use by the UN. There don't seem to be very many different words at any one time, but the difficulty changes according to your ability and it's definitely worth it both for the inner satisfaction and the improvement of your conversation skills. Play it today, for the good of the world!

Nitrome

Somehow, I don't think this list would be complete if I didn't include Nitrome. It's not really a game - in fact 'it' is actually a 'they'. They're a game producer, but they deserve a place here anyway. They produce good games, and they produce lots of them. The ideas are strange but entertaining - squirrels bouncing chicks on a trampoline, cacti in sombreros riding a Mexican handcart, that sort of thing - and the graphics are wonderful. I defy you not to like this site!

Nets 'n' Codes and Microformats

Not long after my last post, I noticed a couple of things. Firstly, I think I may have gone a bit mushy on you, for which I apologise (unless you like mushy, of course). Secondly, I managed to slip the words 'vEvent Microformat' into there somewhere without explaining what that's supposed to mean.

Let's start with Microformats. A Microformat is something that, using nothing more than standard, clean HTML, can tell your computer as much about a web page as the text itself tells you. For example, if the creator of a page has put their contact details at the bottom of it, then any human of modest intelligence can say to themselves: 'Hey, those are contact details!' Fair enough. But if the creator has added a Microformat to the address, then any program that understands how the Microformats system works can also say 'Hey, those could be used in an address book/email/map program! I'll tell my user.' How nice.

There are lots of different Microformat specifications for everything you could possibly need, and a few programs that can deal with them. I, for instance, use the very nifty Operator, a Firefox extension that picks them up and puts them in a menu bar for my delectation. The whole thing works on the mutual understanding that users of the specification will use their HTML elements in a certain way and that a suitable program will recognise them as Microformats. A little like language, perhaps. I could write down whatever letters, numbers and punctuation I liked in this blog, but as it happens I choose to arrange them in such a way that they make English. Similarly, you could choose not to recognise English, but - thank goodness - you decide against it. It's the same for a lot of things, including Microformats.

But I digress. The point is that technologies such as this are the next big step in intelligent automation. It may not be long before your browser can send notifications of an event to those listed as attendees, or can find people - not just on one site but around the internet - who share interests, hobbies, affiliations and anything else besides. Scary, but amazing.

P.S: My mother doesn't think I was particularly mushy in my last post, so I apologise to those who think likewise. I would also like to take this moment to apologise for the extortionate number of apologies I've made. On second thoughts, I apologise for that...

P.P.S: I just realised that, when you're enthusing about something on the Internet, it's always nice to have a link to that something. So...

• Here's the Microformats website.
• And here's what an hEvent is.

Simplicity

The other week, I had a sudden thought which, like any sudden thought, struck me when, where and how I was least expecting it. That is, on a Sunday, in the shower, by means of a small bottle of wildly exotic liquid soap. At first I dismissed it, but then, just the other day, it occurred again, and I felt compelled to tell the world about it.

You see, the soap to which I allude was by Original Source, a company who create soap in the way nature intended (if nature ever intended us to use soap). And it occurred to me that, all things considered, this simplicity was in surprising demand these days. Then, with my rudimentary knowledge of history, I looked back, and found that it hasn't always been this way. For centuries, in fact, fancy Renaissance and Baroque and hundreds of other complex styles have been the height of fashion. Then, with my similarly rudimentary knowledge of prehistory, I looked even further back, and found that, actually, it has been this way once before. Give a caveman a piece of flint and a big stick, and he's happy.

And then (and this is the important 'then') I thought - as I do rather too often - about the Internet, and there was the connection. Give an early Internet age programmer a means of connection and a draft HTML specification, and he's happy. Then later, everyone wants large, impenetrable code blocks that do practically nothing. But now, the time of semantic HTML has come, something that can be read by even the most backward of browsers, that actually makes sense. And I like that, which is why this momentous occasion has been immortalised in a vEvent Microformat, which I like almost as much. The age of simplicity is here for good, and I'm welcoming it.

And then...

...there was a new post! Not the longest or most interesting post, I’m afraid, as I only have until 11:30 or whenever the supervising member of staff leaves. It’s not that they don’t trust us (well actually it is, but let’s pretend otherwise), it’s just that the temptation to wander from the legal path is always there (or so we are led to believe). Talking of supervision, I have to go now. But I’ll be back!

I'm back! Did you miss me? This email posting lark isn't as straightforward as I imagined. Or rather, Microsoft Outlook has a way of making it so. Let me run through the basic stages I have undergone thus far.

1. Open Outlook.
2. Create a new message.
3. Experiment with available editing options.
4. Discover that there is no mode for editing raw HTML.
5. Lessons.
6. Write my post in WordPad and pray that the resultant HTML file can be turned into a message.
7. Curse all things Microsoft.

The next day...

I think I've finally worked this out. By creating an HTML file externally, opening it in Internet Explorer (which, let the record show, I am not very fond of either) and finally selecting the option that allows me to email the page to that magic address. So here it is!

And the moral of the story is... never trust a Windows program unless you're sure you can.

The Dreaded Pictures

Are you in the mood for pictures? I certainly am. I've included some photo data on these ones as well in case anyone's interested in that sort of thing. Enjoy!

A typical Portuguese seafront Taken: 11:55 2008-01-09 Focal length: 9.6000004 Exposure time: 0.00125

A beach board walk Taken: 2008-01-09 Focal length: 15.8 Exposure time: 0.0020000001

A birdwatcher's paradise Taken: 14:27 2008-01-09 Focal length: 51.799999 Exposure time: 0.00125

My sister by the pool Taken: 2008-01-06 Focal length: 13.1 Exposure time: 0.0040000002

No, I do not know how the camera has managed to measure these statistics to sub-atomic accuracy. Nor do I have any idea what units it has so precisely measured them with. At a wild stab, the focal length is in millimetres and the exposure time in seconds. If anyone knows the real answer, I would be intrigued to find out. Although to be honest, I just like taking pictures.