Tuesday 29 June 2010
ICAO spelling alphabet
The ICAO spelling alphabet, also called the NATO phonetic alphabet or the international radiotelephony spelling alphabet, is the most widely used spelling alphabet. Though often called "phonetic alphabets", spelling alphabets have no connection to phonetic transcription systems like the International Phonetic Alphabet. Instead, the International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) alphabet assigns code words to the letters of the English alphabet acrophonically (Alfa for A, Bravo for B, etc.) so that critical combinations of letters (and numbers) can be pronounced and understood by those who transmit and receive voice messages by radio or telephone regardless of their native language, especially when the safety of navigation or persons is essential. The paramount reason is to ensure intelligibility of voice signals over radio links.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ICAO_spelling_alphabet
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ICAO_spelling_alphabet
Saturday 5 June 2010
Thursday 3 June 2010
Nathan Long
Nathan Long,
who was number one,
did suffer no fools gladly.
He ordered and authorised,
without no apology,
and was kind to but one thing:
That was money.
In control of his world,
The modern and bold,
he was sure of his path
and he walked it.
Promoting new deals –
networking clients-
with subtle grey-suited sweet violence.
His office stood high,
his PA stood by,
he surrounded himself with the best,
Of modern advancement,
it all had the answer
to the life Long had chosen to lead.
He did not want,
thought he had no need,
for the natural the broken,
the crumbling yet hopeful
Green moss where nature resides.
And he failed to notice,
from inside his office,
The light and how it streamed through his window.
How it picked out the dust
that rose from his computer,
how it danced its way willingly
to uncertain future,
and how this absolute beauty,
in the midst of grey crudity,
emanated from his very domain.
No;
all Nathan Long needed
was power unimpeded
and control
of his stubborn,
and unflinchingly bludgeoning
brutal and arrogant brain.
And so,
When one morning an associate colleague
suggested a break to the country,
a weekend of rambling,
Pub lunches and man things,
Nathan Long decided to go on it.
Although stepping forth
into that great green world,
where the wild birds shriek and call
from the branches of the trees
which stand strong in the breeze,
that hard natural breeze, that stops for no one, not nothing at all,
Nathan’s mind was unchanged,
there was no stopping his brain:
Nature was small
next to business and money,
deals being brokered and unflinching focus
and of course that ruthless technology.
But nature is subtle,
it has many faces,
it lurks and it hides
as well as being all places.
It is our happiness and joy,
but be aware it is coy,
one must never let it behind your back.
For all his power and influence,
money and arrogance,
this awareness is what Nathan Long lacked.
They rambled together,
this businessman troop,
with their expensive macks and the sturdiest boots,
while around them birds and other things swooped
all claws and beaks and wings beating,
yet Nathan Long strode forward,
sure in his power,
as if he were entering a meeting.
He thought nature was small,
no trouble at all,
relaxing and soft
while man stood aloft,
All hard cash, power and knowledge.
There was no risk here,
home was quite near,
‘This is far from a jungle’
thought Nathan Never Humble,
‘Just sweet harmless England
where the skies are clear,
I’ll follow this walk with a beer.’
His arrogance blinded him,
while nature surrounded him,
thick shrubs were grouping
while sparrows were shooting
all around the air above Nathans head.
To one side was forest,
thick dense, deep and twisted,
spindly twigs whispered
across the path
to the other side,
Where the rushing river bellowed,
Bellowed and screamed,
and the sky looked down with a grin.
It was at this point, for Nathan, that it occurred to him,
that he needed a piss,
and he turned to the river and unzipped.
He glanced behind,
he was glad to be alive,
and saw his colleagues disappear down the path.
On power he strived,
yes he felt good, and he acknowledged this with a laugh.
But this mirthful shudder,
caused him to slip up
on a well placed and slippery stone.
He fell and he stuttered
but was plunged into rushing
cold biting and bellowing river.
And into his mouth the water did flow,
He choked and he screamed,
but the river screamed louder,
as he was dragged along and below.
The breeze shook the leaves,
and the shrubs watched calmly,
as he tried to shout
and he tried to call,
But the river flowed on
to its unknown target,
Never stopping for no one at all.
And just before he died,
Nathan Long realised
that he had no control over anything.
That nature was here,
unspeakably near,
and phones and computers meant nothing.
There are so many places,
beyond all our reason,
which the elements
Of chance control.
And there are visions of beauty,
no matter the season,
like the light streaming through Nathan’s window.
who was number one,
did suffer no fools gladly.
He ordered and authorised,
without no apology,
and was kind to but one thing:
That was money.
In control of his world,
The modern and bold,
he was sure of his path
and he walked it.
Promoting new deals –
networking clients-
with subtle grey-suited sweet violence.
His office stood high,
his PA stood by,
he surrounded himself with the best,
Of modern advancement,
it all had the answer
to the life Long had chosen to lead.
He did not want,
thought he had no need,
for the natural the broken,
the crumbling yet hopeful
Green moss where nature resides.
And he failed to notice,
from inside his office,
The light and how it streamed through his window.
How it picked out the dust
that rose from his computer,
how it danced its way willingly
to uncertain future,
and how this absolute beauty,
in the midst of grey crudity,
emanated from his very domain.
No;
all Nathan Long needed
was power unimpeded
and control
of his stubborn,
and unflinchingly bludgeoning
brutal and arrogant brain.
And so,
When one morning an associate colleague
suggested a break to the country,
a weekend of rambling,
Pub lunches and man things,
Nathan Long decided to go on it.
Although stepping forth
into that great green world,
where the wild birds shriek and call
from the branches of the trees
which stand strong in the breeze,
that hard natural breeze, that stops for no one, not nothing at all,
Nathan’s mind was unchanged,
there was no stopping his brain:
Nature was small
next to business and money,
deals being brokered and unflinching focus
and of course that ruthless technology.
But nature is subtle,
it has many faces,
it lurks and it hides
as well as being all places.
It is our happiness and joy,
but be aware it is coy,
one must never let it behind your back.
For all his power and influence,
money and arrogance,
this awareness is what Nathan Long lacked.
They rambled together,
this businessman troop,
with their expensive macks and the sturdiest boots,
while around them birds and other things swooped
all claws and beaks and wings beating,
yet Nathan Long strode forward,
sure in his power,
as if he were entering a meeting.
He thought nature was small,
no trouble at all,
relaxing and soft
while man stood aloft,
All hard cash, power and knowledge.
There was no risk here,
home was quite near,
‘This is far from a jungle’
thought Nathan Never Humble,
‘Just sweet harmless England
where the skies are clear,
I’ll follow this walk with a beer.’
His arrogance blinded him,
while nature surrounded him,
thick shrubs were grouping
while sparrows were shooting
all around the air above Nathans head.
To one side was forest,
thick dense, deep and twisted,
spindly twigs whispered
across the path
to the other side,
Where the rushing river bellowed,
Bellowed and screamed,
and the sky looked down with a grin.
It was at this point, for Nathan, that it occurred to him,
that he needed a piss,
and he turned to the river and unzipped.
He glanced behind,
he was glad to be alive,
and saw his colleagues disappear down the path.
On power he strived,
yes he felt good, and he acknowledged this with a laugh.
But this mirthful shudder,
caused him to slip up
on a well placed and slippery stone.
He fell and he stuttered
but was plunged into rushing
cold biting and bellowing river.
And into his mouth the water did flow,
He choked and he screamed,
but the river screamed louder,
as he was dragged along and below.
The breeze shook the leaves,
and the shrubs watched calmly,
as he tried to shout
and he tried to call,
But the river flowed on
to its unknown target,
Never stopping for no one at all.
And just before he died,
Nathan Long realised
that he had no control over anything.
That nature was here,
unspeakably near,
and phones and computers meant nothing.
There are so many places,
beyond all our reason,
which the elements
Of chance control.
And there are visions of beauty,
no matter the season,
like the light streaming through Nathan’s window.
Wednesday 2 June 2010
Tuesday 1 June 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)