Storage

It makes me wonder how duped our political class are when it comes to renewable energy. They keep banging on that it is needed to sustain our way of life,  rather than that nasty CO2 producing conventional power station.

Well, tonight my Bird Mincer Wind turbine (I haven’t really got one. I’m not a brainwashed, green, cretin), would be producing sweet fuck all, as there is not a breath of wind here in deepest darkest Kent.

However on Thursday and Friday there was oodles of wind. Enough to power The large Hadron collider barely my lighting if I had a commercially bought, private property device.

But to cut to the chase. Even supposing I had a turbine that could produce three times my consumption, how would I store the surplus? Well I could invest in a transformer and go and get dozens of batteries from Halfords, (Halfords, if you’re reading this, the free plug here, is worth a few quid for my help with your sales) or I could build a heat sink in the garden and recover the energy by a heat pump system.

The trouble with this strategy is, it is cost prohibitive to the lay person.

And of course, it will be to the national projects as well.

It’s different in places such as Norway, where they can use the energy produced to pump water up to high level reservoir to be used to generate hydro-electric power when the wind ceases to blow.

So if we go down the road of having 20% of our energy from renewables in the future. Where is 20% of the energy tonight going to come from?

Links to previous ramblings on this subject can be found here

Don’t mess with the military

 

The Woman Marine  Pilot

  The teacher gave  her fifth grade class an assignment: Get their parents to tell  them a story with a moral at the end of it.  The next  day, the kids came back and, one by one, began to tell their  stories.

There were all  the regular types of stuff: spilled milk and pennies  saved.  But then the teacher realized, much to her  dismay, that only Janie was left.

  “Janie, do you  have a story to share?'

  ''Yes  ma'am.  My daddy told me a story about my Mom. She was  a Marine pilot in Desert Storm, and her plane got hit.   She had to bail out over enemy territory, and all she had was  a flask of whiskey, a pistol, and a survival knife.  
  She drank the  whiskey on the way down so the bottle wouldn't break, and then  her parachute landed her right in the middle of 20 Iraqi  troops. She shot 15 of them with the pistol, until she ran out  of bullets, killed four more with the knife, till the blade  broke, and then she killed the last Iraqi with her bare hands.  
  ''Good Heavens,'  said the horrified teacher.  'What did your Daddy tell  you was the moral to this horrible story?

 

"Don't mess  with Mommy when she's been  drinking."