#oneaday Day 431: It ain't our photos and emails causing a water shortage

Here in the UK, we are suffering something of a water shortage. Several areas are in full-on drought status, and many areas, including hours, are subject to what is colloquially known as a "hosepipe ban", more officially known as a "temporary use ban" or "TUB". In other words, we're not supposed to use our hosepipes to water our garden (or, indeed, anything else) for the duration of the ban — which, of course, is exactly when our gardens and plants could actually probably do with a bit more water than usual.

There was an insultingly stupid press release that went out today from the government. Amid all the obvious advice like "fix anything that's leaking" and "don't leave your shower running all night" they had the gall to offer this nugget of wisdom:

Delete old emails and pictures as data centres require vast amounts of water to cool their systems.

Yes, that's right; people hanging on to their online memories, because no-one saves things locally any more — and that's a discussion in itself, I'm sure — are to blame for this drought! All those pictures of your beloved pets and family members, some of whom are likely no longer with us? They are, apparently, hoovering up all the water! Those precious emails from your first contact with someone special? Glug, glug, glug! And that draft of your novel you're never going to finish almost certainly drained half of Yorkshire's reservoirs just by existing.

I jest, obviously, because cloud storage on an individual scale is — no pun intended — a drop in the ocean in terms of water usage for these data centres. Even for all the people in the UK. Even for all the people in the world.

You know what actually is sucking up all the water in a completely wasteful, pointless way? All that shitty AI that is continually being foisted on us! ChatGPT-5 doesn't know how many letter B's are in the world "blueberry" but it's guzzling up water like nobody's business.

Per 404 Media, a report from the USA earlier this year estimated that the 250 million AI queries generated in America every day by people who think talking to the lying plagiarism robot is somehow "productive" consumes enough water to fill roughly 1.67 Olympic-sized swimming pools. That's every day. The World Economic Forum claims that AI datacentres will be responsible for consuming up to 1.7 trillion gallons by 2027, which is more than 4-6 times the total annual water usage of Denmark. From the same report, a "medium-sized data centre" (regarded as 15 megawatt) consumes "as much water as the yearly consumption of either three average-sized hospitals or more than two 18-hole golf courses".

Yeah. My Google Photos library isn't the problem. My email archive isn't the problem. The fact that we are blundering headlong into an environmental, economic and societal catastrophe by going all-in on the demonstrably idiotic and useless thing that is generative AI is the problem.

I say "we". I don't know a single person who actually wants this AI-powered future. Even from the most delusional AI glazer, I'm yet to hear any concrete proof that any of this is in any way helpful or desirable. (That is not an invitation, by the way.)

And now we, the people, are being punished for something we apparently have no control over. We, the people, are being given the responsibility of being more "frugal" just so we can watch the world's most useless corporations continue to incinerate billions of dollars an hour, contaminate our water supplies and take advantage of the most vulnerable people in society.

God. I fucking hate the future. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It has been said numerous times before at this point, but this is the worst possible cyberpunk future. And it seems so obvious that everything is terrible, and yet no-one with any power to do anything about it appears to want to do anything about it.

If you need me, I'll be emailing all my photos to myself.

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#oneaday Day 42: Melting

It is so hot here right now. The sun's gone down but it's still sweltering. Those who live in typically warmer climes often like to mock us here in the UK for complaining about the heat when it gets anywhere over 25 degrees C, but this is a country built on the assumption that your average day will be grey and miserable, probably drizzling slightly. Consequently, all our houses are built to trap heat and stay warm, even when you emphatically do not wish them to.

We made the wise investment of a portable air conditioner a couple of years back, and that lives in the bedroom, meaning that we can at least get some sleep in a bearable temperature. The rest of the house is festooned in fans, too, which help a little bit but not quite enough. There comes a point where all they're doing is blowing the hot air around a bit, which is better than it just sort of hanging there in that suffocating way it does, but not enough to really cool you off.

It's these kinds of conditions that make you wish you'd remembered to put some of your cans of drink in the fridge rather than leaving them in the back room, a room with a lot of windows which, unsurprisingly, gets very warm at times like this. (I have now put a bunch of drinks in the fridge, so at least in a few hours I can have something actually cold.) I tell you: warm Irn Bru Xtra is not good.

The one vague positive is that it's time for ice cream. Ice cream is a great delight and joy, and I sincerely doubt the words of anyone who doesn't say they feel at least a bit of the same joy they felt as a child when the ice creams come out. Despite owning a breadmaker and an air fryer, we haven't quite reached the middle class status where we're making our own ice cream; just a well-stocked freezer with a selection of both creamy and fruity treats is just the ticket at a time like this.

Now, my brain is dribbling out of my ears somewhat, so I think I'm going to go and have one of those aforementioned ice creams and do something that requires minimal thought.

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1989: Temperature of the Sun

It is hot. Not just a bit hot (i.e. over 20 degrees or so, at which point most Brits will start commenting that it's "a bit warm") but really hot. Andie's car claimed that it was 39 degrees earlier and while I take that figure with a pinch of salt, it's almost definitely at least well into the mid-30s.

I don't like it when it's hot. I don't like it when it's cold, either, but I think if I had to be too hot or too cold all the time, I'd plump for too cold, because at least you can put extra layers on or whatever. When it's too hot, there's very little you can do about it.

I mean, sure, you can spray yourself with water, sit in front of a fan or whatever. But there's nothing that will stave off that eventual, extremely unpleasant feeling of sweating from pretty much every pore you have until your clothes are damp with your own gross, disgusting sweat; that point where you hope no-one brushes up against you or asks to shake your hand because you just know that you'll stick to them in an embarrassing manner.

The one redeeming feature of horrible, hot, humid days like today is that they often lead to satisfying, pleasant warm rain showers that are delightful to stand out in. But no amount of warm rain is really enough to make up for the amount of discomfort that it being way too hot creates.

Hopefully it will be a bit cooler tomorrow. I'd rather not melt, but at this rate I feel like I'm going to.

#oneaday Day 525: Heat Wave

Any time it gets a bit hot in the UK, it's a "heat wave", even if said "heat wave" only lasts for a few minutes. More than a day and you start getting into "serious risk of hosepipe ban" territory, and more than a week and the Apocalypse is clearly here. We're currently in the midst of one said "heat wave", and naturally things are going downhill fast. Apparently there are a bunch of trains that can't run because it's too hot.

Too hot? They stop running when it's snowed, they stop running when it's too hot. Did it not occur to anyone to make these transportations devices which are rather important to the British transport infrastructure a little more all-weather compatible?

Of course, as a nation, the Britons are well known for their distaste of any kind of weather whatsoever. Hot outside? Wander around complaining that it's "too hot", that it's "sticky", that you "wish there was more shade" or crack some lame joke about global warming. Raining? Mutter about it being "nice weather for ducks" (even though ducks don't like rain), be unbearably smug about the waterproofs you might be wearing or look thoroughly miserable as you get completely drenched. Grey and miserable? Bemoan the fact that there's never any "interesting" weather, huff and sigh to yourself or simply gaze into the middle distance. Snowing? God help the country as it grinds to a complete halt.

All this seems to suggest one thing: humans are clearly not designed to cope with any kind of weather condition whatsoever, at least while clothed. Clothing gets wet, or sticky, or smelly, or covered in snow and cold, or otherwise messed up. As such, the solution is clear: we must stay inside, install air conditioning and be naked at all times.

Okay, that's perhaps an extreme solution to the problem. But you'd think that given we're an indigineous species to this planet we'd be able to cope a little better with a bit of sunshine or a bit of water falling from the skies.

Me, I like it when it's raining. I like the sound it makes. It's a relaxing sound — an opinion backed up by the fact that various "noise machine" apps for iPhones and whatnot often include the sound of rain as a default noise to fall asleep to. Sun I can take or leave. It's nice for it to be warm, but having to squint in order to see anything and running the risk of looking like a lump of well-cooked ham after spending too long outside is always something of a risk.

One thing is absolutely for sure, though — it's bloody boiling in this room right now, thanks in part to the weather and thanks in part to the amount of technology in a fairly confined space. All respect to my PC, which is coping admirably with the heat and is somehow managing to remain one of the coolest things in the room.

It goes without saying that I'm ho– no, I can't do it. Seriously.