It may be lockdown lethargy, or the brain fog many are suffering whilst sheltering in place – I’ve lost my impetus where genealogy and family history are concerned. But I can still juggle happily with numbers for hours on end. Disappointed with the appearance of a graph showing temperature differences this year in the two hemispheres (relative to the Pre-industrial baseline), I sought a whole measure smaller than a degree centigrade or Fahrenheit and found one. I have called it an “IPCC unit”.
The International Panel on Climate Change issued a paper at the time of the Paris Accord that declared the global average temperature had risen one-degree centigrade above Pre-Industrial by 2017. It suggested a further half a degree rise by 2040 – to the 1.5°C limit that should be avoided at all costs.
Assuming an unwavering linear rise, we are looking at a modest-seeming 0.0217°C per annum. (I reckon that to be 0.0391 degrees in Fahrenheit money.)
Creating the graph using IPCC units gives this picture of weekly temperature relative to Pre-Industrial, reported by my Ten Stations over the last thirteen weeks.
I have kept it as simple as possible to make it clear that the northern stations are responsible for all the above-average global warming in this time period and the southern stations for all but a tiny bit of the cooling.
Koltsovo has warmed at over 250 times the rate projected by the IPCC. Rio de Janeiro is the “coolest” of the stations.
Koltsovo has cooled by about 55 IPCC units over the thirteen weeks. That’s about 1.2°C, down from 7.8°C above Pre-Industrial to 6.6 degrees. (Global warming isn’t a hoax in Russia.)
Rio’s average weekly mean temperature over this period was 25.6°C but it cooled about 12 IPCC units, or 0.25°C, from 0.19 to 0.44 degrees BELOW Pre-Industrial.
Shanghai is the northern station that is closely tracking the hemisphere average.
The Ten Station Globe has dropped from 2.09°C above Pre-Industrial in Week 8 to 1.89 degrees in week 20. It is, however, a long drop to a rise of only a single IPCC unit by the end of the meteorological year.
Metal 11 · Roundabout
My main concessions to lockdown have been to take my cameras for a walk once a day rather than twice, and go hunting for food once a week. I have more time to sit at the computer but spend much of it trying to understand the extraordinary event we are all experiencing. Living history is rather more exciting than raking over the past, and Filey genealogy is a casualty of the Virus War.
I still have an appetite for family history though, and given that my number may be called soon it seems more appropriate to pick up the threads of my own people.
When I fled Cold Comfort Cottage twelve years ago I brought a few sticks of furniture to Filey, including two bookcases. One was my father’s, the other mine. Both began their working lives in my childhood home – and both had been well made by Lorry. I know, he was probably Laurie. He wasn’t a blood relative but was married to Phyllis. They visited us maybe once a year, were quiet and pleasant. My rudimentary Roots Magic database tells me that Phyllis is a first cousin once removed. Our common ancestors are my great grandparents Henry LOCKETT and Mary Ann MORGAN.
Mary Ann is almost alone amongst my forebears in having an air of romance and mystery. In one source she claims to have been born in France, in another the Channel Islands. Sort of romantic. The mystery is enshrined in a hand-me-down story that her father saved a number of people from a wrecked ship, rowing out in his small boat like a male Grace Darling and being rewarded with a memorial somewhere on Guernsey. Or maybe Jersey. I don’t know his first name. It may not be a true story.
Phyllis was the only daughter of Elizabeth Ann LOCKETT and William Henry Phillip SMAWFIELD. I remember my dad telling tales about his Aunt Lizzie Smawfield. She was a character though I don’t recall ever meeting her. (I was eight-years-old when she died.) She was William Smawfield’s second wife. The first was the Elizabeth of Picturesque Terrace who married at eighteen, bore a daughter that died almost immediately, and then slipped away herself the following year. There is a photograph of Picturesque Terrace online but it isn’t the “seriously ironic” place she called home. Astonishingly, Hull had two Picturesque Terraces. Elizabeth’s was in Manchester Street and no longer exists – having been obliterated by hideous modern warehouses and engineering sheds.
Find Elizabeth on the Shared Tree.
Bird 77 · Tufted Duck
Observing social distance. This morning there was just one male Tufty on the lake, looking rather apprehensive in the middle of a gang of mallard drakes.
I shared Filey Sands today with one man, his dog and a seal. Until I can walk long distances again, and freely, I’ll incorporate Today’s Images in “standard” posts.