Narrow Broadband

It's not that long ago that the idea that one could watch TV programmes on your personal computer would have seemed slightly ridiculous.

It's not that long ago that being able to connect with both information and people all around the world in a meaningful way was just a gleam in Sir Tim Berners-Lee's eye.

And when he made that possible with his HTML code that launched the World Wide Web on the Internet (hitherto a military and academic piece of international telephonic computer hardware) we became used to the idea that when connecting to this worldwide phenomenon we did so to the accompaniment a vaguely science-fiction display of beeps, tones, whirring and buzzing that was the beloved Dial-up System, and we marvelled that we were transferring data back and forth at the phenomenal rate of 56 Kilobits per second.

The other day I found myself almost transported back to those days when my Broadband connection became mysteriously downgraded to a rate of less than 0.5 Megabits per second; and although this is a huge increase on the erstwhile dial-up system it was in fact achingly slow and rendered any attempt at watching streamed media totally impossible. The BBC i-Player flashed up a message that said in effect, "Your'e wasting your time, your system is totally inadequate for this task, and you should contact your ISP".

It did come up with a possible solution: download the programme to your own disk and run it from there. Fine - but when I started to download a 60-minute programme, after three hours it was still downloading and telling me there were another 50 minutes to go.

I gave up and e-mailed the BT Help Desk, and to be fair to them within an hour I received a phone call from an engineer. (By the way, judging by the accent of every BT advisor I've ever spoken to, their call centre is either based on the Asian sub-continent or their IT section is staffed entirely by Indians, Pakistanis, or Bangladeshis. They are all polite to an almost unreasonable degree, but sometimes hard to understand.)

They carried out line speed tests that told them what I had already established, i.e., my download speed was less than half a Megabit per second, whereas my "BT Broadband Option 3 Package" was supposed to deliver up to 8 Mbps (although the average expectation would be around 5 Mbps).

They seemed to be at a loss as to why this was happening and promised a full investigation, and I would be updated on progress with phone calls. The phone calls never came.

I checked the configuration of My "BT Home Hub" router/internet phone and discovered that it was registering the time it had been connected as 11 days. This was odd, because as far as I was concerned it had been connected for over a year! Not only that, it was apparently configured for only 0.5 Mbps downstream speed. So it appeared that some time in the past week or so it had been remotely disconnected and then re-connected with a different configuration.

I got back to the BT Help Desk yesterday and told them in no uncertain terms this was not why I was paying them £25 per month. Later I played back a message on my answer-phone from one my new "Indian" friends who said the engineers were in the process of resolving my problem, and would I please monitor my Broadband speed over the next few days. Oh, and "I hope you have a wonderful day ahead of you".

This morning I carried out a speed test and - joy of joys - found my speed up to 5 Mbps., and I successfully re-ran a TV program on BBC i-Player, streamed without distortion or interruption from continual buffering.

It got me thinking about how, in spite of how things used to be only a very short while ago, about which we had no complaint, once we move on to yet another level of technical and scientific advancement, we find it almost impossible to tolerate reverting to how things were only "yesterday".

The dubious joys of Technology

Sometimes our technological wizardry can drive you nearly insane. The pace of change is such that you have to have a strong will to keep up. One of the problems is that designers often seem to design gadgets with themselves in mind rather than the average man or woman in the street who is going to buy it. 

Why, for example, does our microwave oven have control buttons identified with black text on a dark brown background? They are, to all intents and purposes, invisible. Now, the designer knows perfectly well the functions of all these controls, but I don't. I do not spend my working day thinking about microve ovens, so on the occasions I want to do something specific with my device I want to be able to see at a glance which does what without resort to a torch and a magnifying glass.

Then there's the cooker knobs, where the temperature markings wear off after a year's use, so now it's all guesswork.

The nightmare controls of VHS and DVD television recorders is well known. It is often said that if you want to program your recorder to catch your favourite show on the night that you are taking your wife out to a well-deserved dinner then you call in one of the grandchildren to do it for you. Actually the field of TV recording is one in which I am pleased to be able to admit that things are getting better rather than worse. The advent of the digital TV recorder, and in particular the "Sky+" system (and it's equivalents) make the business of setting up future recordings almost a pleasure; you can even tell it to record an entire series, and moreover you can be watching something totally different at the same time.

Don't get me started on personal computers. I love the things because of the way they (and the Internet) have transformed our lives and relationships, but I also hate their ability to crash at a critical moment and I loath the all-pervading influence of the Microsoft operating system and associated software they have imposed upon us. It's good to see, at last, real challenges to Microsoft: people like Mozilla and Google. It took the Mozilla Firefox web browser to show us that we didn't really have to use Internet Explorer if we didn't want to, and I suspect that without them leading the way with their superior browser we would not have had the benefit of the greatly improved Internet Explorer version 7. Now Google has come along with another browser called "Chrome" (still in beta) and I like it. It's faster than IE7 and has some good extra features. In it's current beta form, if you find any web page failing in some regard because you are using Chrome then you can easily notify Google of the problem and send a screen shot of the problem page.

Our cars now have so much technology in them that laws against the use of mobile phones when driving almost seem irrelevant when you consider the host of other potential distractions in front of you: CD players, MP3 players, radios with complex menu systems, automatic climate control buttons, rear window demisters, front window demisters, cabin lights, reading lights, windscreen wiper settings, fuel levels, miles per gallon right now, miles per gallon on average, hours driven, distance travelled this journey, distance travelled since you last had sex, and satellite navigation displays sending you down country lanes leading nowhere or a voice telling you to turn round on a motorway.

Yesterday my wife and I were doing some decorating in the bathroom and every now and then we could hear this electronic bleep. It occured about once every five minutes and at first we though it was something outside the house. We ignored it for some time, but eventually it began to worm its way into our brains and become annoying. The annoyance grew as we began to look around the house at all things electrical to see what it was trying to attract our attention. We disabled the downstairs smoke alarm, we disabled the upstairs smoke alarm, we looked at wireless "mice", we ripped batteries out of electronic weighing scales, we did the same with an electronic blood pressure monitor. The bleeping continued - a tiny little high-pitched bleep (more of a "blip" I suppose) every five minutes - coming from nowhere in particular. We were now reduced to ripping small battery alarm clocks apart, even though we knew that they had never, never given low-battery warnings, and were not designed to do so.  We took the batteries out of a Nintendo "brain trainer". Still it continued.

We forgot about the electronic intrusion whilst we watched evening television, and then when to bed. But we couldn't sleep; there was that bleep again. I tried to ignore it, but you can't, can you? You are laying there with your eyes closed trying to relax but actually you are just waiting for the next bleep. And you are never disappointed. It comes again.

Eventually I leaped out of bed, went across to my wife's handbag, took out her mobile phone. It was still switched on, and there it was .. "1 new message" .. a service announcement from Vodaphone.

The dubious joys of Technology.