Tom Hawkins
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nekomatic.bsky.social
Tom Hawkins
@nekomatic.bsky.social
680 followers 330 following 2.3K posts
Any sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from technology.
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nekomatic.bsky.social
Tom Hawkins @nekomatic.bsky.social · Jul 17
“If you see anything you don’t like during your journey today, you can text the British Transport Police on 61016” that’s quite a bold offer to make
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
nothingsmonstrd.bsky.social
It's an apotropaic gesture — but it's not that I think that saluting a dryad will ward off bad luck.

I knock on wood in the hope that self-consciously indulging irrationality will ward off the danger of overrating my own rationality.
September 18, 2026 at 12:35 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
magslhalliday.bsky.social
Every year on 19 December, the famous Christmas lights at Mousehole in Cornwall are dimmed between 8 and 9pm, leaving just the Cross and Angels shining down across the village and out to sea.
September 18, 2026 at 10:00 AM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
adrianchills.bsky.social
#82: Location-tracking
A screenshot of a headline to a Guardian column by Adrian Chiles. It reads 'Location-tracking apps have turned me into a gibbering wreck - but I just can't look away' (Alt-text for next image) The silence is the worst part. When the dust storms abate and the metal shields which form the walls of our base camp stop resounding with the pock pock pock of wind-blown gravel, all that is left is the quiet hum of the life support system. That, and the sound of my own fevered breaths. I’ve long given up hope of anyone responding to my distress signal; this planet is too far from the trade paths, not even named on our star-maps.The chances of someone coming to my rescue are infinitesimal at best. If any of the others were still here, we could perhaps together have sought a way to repair our ship, but alone it’s hopeless; I’m no engineer. (Continued on next image) (Continued from previous alt-text) So I sit and wait, and listen to the silence. And watch the screens in front of me. And gibber with terror at what they show. When we first crash-landed here, thirty-eight cycles ago, we were a crew of four; myself, Landon, Contreras and Masur. We thought the planet uninhabited - the rocky terrain and lack of plant life seemed to indicate a dead world, or at least one that was inimical to sustaining life. How wrong we were. Seventy-two hours after landing, while Landon worked on attempting to repair our propulsion system, we heard for the first time the sound of movement outside our base camp; scuttling sounds, as though from many legs moving quickly across the rough ground. Then a scream. Landon. Visibility is poor on the planet - the nights are weeks long, and the atmosphere above so thick as to block any light from the surrounding moons - so we could not see what was happening to him, even as his cries grew further and further away. I ran to my screen, saw his location indicator - the signal, as for all of us, broadcast from the tiny bio-chip implanted in his skull - moving rapidly towards a nearby cave formation. Contreras and Masur acted fast. Instructing me to wait behind, they took their weapons and headed out into the darkness. I never saw them again. Their location indicators however, kept moving, out there in the night. When eventually I ventured from the base camp, I found only horror. Landon’s legs, ripped off and scattered in the dust. The whole lower part of Masur’s torso nearby. Of Contreras there was only a ragged, torn foot. But still, on the screen, they moved. I watch them even now, for hours at a time. It’s almost a compulsion. I know they are out there, the remnants of Landon, Contreras and Masur, carried by legs that scuttle on the earth, circling the camp, waiting for just this silence. I will watch them as they come for me. I won’t be able to look away.
September 17, 2026 at 9:02 AM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
outeast.bsky.social
Great to see @eurcorrespond.bsky.social covering @jonworth.eu's longest train journey project.

europeancorrespondent.com/en/r/from-fi...
From Finland to Portugal by train in just 125 hours
Last week, Jon Worth, a railway activist who advocates for better cross-border train travel across Europe, completed the longest train journey in the EU – from…
europeancorrespondent.com
September 17, 2026 at 6:27 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
keepof4worlds.bsky.social
I’m always so tempted in these situations not to remonstrate with the offender, but to join in the conversation. “Wow it sounds like Liz is really ill! Is she going to make it??”
September 16, 2026 at 4:16 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
michaeldaly64.bsky.social
"I am but skin & bones..."
September 16, 2026 at 5:14 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
joemuggs.bsky.social
OK but hear me out.

I got massively into HHG as a kid, listened to OG radio series endlessly, and as I've got older the realisation dawned that the entire thing is a howl - a genteel, articulate howl, but a howl nonetheless - of nihilistic despair.

Adams DID doubt both machine and human sentience.
twlldun.bsky.social Twlldun @twlldun.bsky.social · 3d
Just actively missing the point
September 15, 2026 at 3:21 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
zachweinersmith.bsky.social
Lukewarm take:

I feel a lot of pessimism about the present is built on not realizing just how bad the past was. Like if you just read a book about poverty in a first-world country in the 1950s it's staggeringly worse than now.
September 15, 2026 at 12:09 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
jenniekermode.bsky.social
To fight fascism we need to remember the most neglected commandment of Bill and Ted. Don't just be excellent to each other. Have a good time all of the time.
September 13, 2026 at 9:36 AM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
jonworth.eu
DONE #LongestTrainEU
September 12, 2026 at 9:41 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
davidho.bsky.social
If you work at an oil major, I urge you to think hard about what the next decade will feel like. Do you want to greenlight another decades-long extraction project without reckoning with its full climate cost? Or use this moment to demand a different path?
September 12, 2026 at 1:14 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
danneidle.bsky.social
Yes yes, of course the hospitality lobby says the tourist tax will hammer tourism.

Of course they've come up with huge, scary numbers (which we can't verify).

But the thing is, they're right. The tax *will* reduce tourism. The question is: how much?

So we tried to find out:
September 12, 2026 at 8:24 AM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
isitabikelane.bsky.social
Calling all London cyclists!

Kensington High St consultation closes this weekend. Please respond and ask for a fully segregated cycle lane. Current proposals are welcome but mostly superficial and include nothing for cyclists:

consult.rbkc.gov.uk/communities/...
Draft Kensington High Street Local Action Plan - Kensington and Chelsea's Consultation and Engagement Hub - Citizen Space
Find and participate in consultations run by Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea
consult.rbkc.gov.uk
September 11, 2026 at 9:07 AM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
adrianchills.bsky.social
#81: Driverless
A screenshot of a headline to a Guardian column by Adrian Chiles. It reads "Driverless cars are taking us on a road to nowhere." (Alt-text for next image) It was just rotten bad luck, that was all. If I had been a little speedier in cracking Lady Hurlington’s jewellery safe then we may have been making our merry way back down the trellis when she and her brute of a husband returned from their late dinner. As it was, the Colonel caught us rather red-handed and it was only by the swiftness of my reactions that I avoided being run-through by the regimental sword he kept above the fireplace. Poor ‘Blinky’ Blenkinsop, my companion in crime, was not so lucky; the Colonel pierced him right in the breadbasket, with a triumphant cry of ‘Take that, you bounder!’ The pompous oaf’s celebration did however give me the moment’s grace I needed to grab a heavy candlestick from the table and deliver a hefty blow to his muttonchops. While he clattered to the floor and her Ladyship fell into a faint, I managed to drag poor old Blinky down the stairs and out the front door - straight into the midst of the thickest fog London had ever seen. Blinky was bleeding heavily, claret colouring both his evening dress and mine. Behind us I could hear shouting voices and the whistle of a bobby. I knew I had to act fast. A black shape drew up beside me. A taxicab. Without thinking, I opened the door and thrust poor Blinky in, then tapped on the cab window. “Piccadilly, driver, and don’t spare the horses”. Before I was even inside the taxicab’s door we were moving. (Continued on next alt-text) (Continued from previous alt-text) Spared from the immediate attentions of the constabulary, I set about attending to Blinky. Using my silk scarf, I attempted to plug the wound in his belly. He groaned loudly at my touch. “Hush now, Blinky,” I told him, “We’ll have you fixed up in no time.” He just shook his head. “No,” he moaned, “Deserve all that’s coming. Time to pay the piper.” “What rot!” I scoffed, “The piper can go hang.” But I knew what he meant. Our last job, robbing a diamond merchant’s in Hatton Garden had gone badly; a night watchman had surprised us and I, thinking only of our survival, had delivered him a terrible blow to his skull, one from which he had subsequently perished. I know that this was preying on poor Blinky’s mind. “Be quiet now,” I said to him, “save your strength.” While he rested, I peered through the taxicab’s window but could see nothing; mere shapes and shadows, insubstantial. At one point I sensed that we were moving over water, though I could think of no bridge that would take us to Piccadilly. I leaned out of the window, tapped again on the cab. “Driver?” There came no answer. Unnerved now, I stepped out onto the running plate - the road but a vague blur beneath me, almost like fog itself - and peered through the driver’s window. No man sat at the wheel. We passengers, myself and Blinky, were the taxicab’s only occupants. I lifted my head, looked out into the fog. We were no longer in London. We were, it appeared to me, no longer anywhere at all.
September 10, 2026 at 1:13 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
steamtraen.eu
Speakers of languages other than English: What is the # key/symbol called in your language? (Please also mention the language). #️⃣#️⃣#️⃣#️⃣#️⃣
steamtraen.eu Nick Brown @steamtraen.eu · 7d
One of the Americanisms that writers in all variants of English should embrace is the use of #1, #2, etc to indicate a number within a sequence. It's easy and unambiguous.

But "pound sign" and "hash" are both terrible names for it. It should *obviously* be called a sharp sign, as it is in French.
September 11, 2026 at 10:16 AM
nekomatic.bsky.social
me: goes on LinkedIn, sees person X who used to run a committee I was on has made an arsehole anti-refugee comment, unconnects from them

LinkedIn: …

LinkedIn (emails): Hey, here’s a post by person X you might be interested in!

LinkedIn (emails): Go on, have more stuff from person X! In your face!
September 11, 2026 at 7:06 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
londonisfine.co.uk
Little reminder that I’m still on the hunt for your (or your friends’ and followers’) answers about London at londonisfine.co.uk with the hope that somehow together we can make this sort of weirdness less likely. Reposts very much appreciated, ta x www.lbc.co.uk/article/dona...
Third of people share Donald Trump’s belief that London has no-go areas | LBC
A survey of more than 2,000 UK adults found that 34 per cent of the public believe there are areas in London where Sharia law dominates and non-Muslims cannot enter
www.lbc.co.uk
September 11, 2026 at 11:11 AM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
warringtoncec.bsky.social
📅 17 September | ⏰ 1pm-3pm
🎟️ Book your free place:

www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/enterprise...

#CommunityEnergy #NetZero #ClimateAction #Cheshire #Warrington
September 9, 2026 at 2:58 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
stevenhseggie.bsky.social
This tells us nothing useful except what it says. It cannot be used as a proxy for integration success or anything else. If you want to examine integration in this context you cannot use covariate free data (and yes I know I’m shouting into the void)
September 10, 2026 at 8:30 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
minxmarple.bsky.social
Do I know anyone at a Scandinavian university — Who could advise me what ‘scientific publications/expertise’ is actually looking for in the context of fine art/artistic research?
September 10, 2026 at 4:23 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
martinmckee.bsky.social
It seems simple to me. The first duty of a government is to safeguard the lives of its people. If you die it makes no difference whether you are killed by Russians, poverty, or anyone/ anything else that can be prevented. Social security, like defence, is simply part of national resilience
September 10, 2026 at 6:51 AM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
adrianchills.bsky.social
#80: Miserable
A screenshot of a headline to Guardian column by Adrian Chiles. It reads 'I've spent my whole life looking miserable. It's time for a change'. (Alt text for next image) In retrospect, my choice of career - given the obvious disadvantages conferred on me by my countenance - may have been a mistake. Possessing a face that, through no fault of my own (and none owed to my parents either - a relatively cheerful pair - unless you count through the combining of their genetics) perpetually bears an expression memorably described to me by a colleague as ‘like a dropped meat pie’, I have long been used to people seeing me as a harbinger of gloom, a kind of avatar of bad news. A misery. But medicine was always my dream, and I convinced myself that I could rise above the accident of my features and become a success. And so I did. After completing my initial training - during which I learned that approaching a patient with test results, no matter how positive in outlook, was never going to be my forte - I moved toward my specialism, surgery. Masked from the nose down, with only my hangdog eyes visible, I could at least feel somewhat like a normal person. Of course, consultations were always a little difficult - I would often require to have a colleague on hand to ensure my patient that the prognosis was actually positive - but generally I muddled through. But as the years wore on, I longed for change, to be the kind of man who brought light into a room, rather than looming black clouds of rain. I had a solution in mind. But how to enact it? (Continued in next alt text) (Continued from previous alt text) Then I met Gary. New to the neighbourhood, he soon became a fixture at all social gatherings, due to his bright, natural smile, an outcrop of his inherent joie de vivre. He was everything I longed to be. Even when his cat, Eduardo, went missing, nothing could faze Gary. Though the eyes were sad, the smile was ever-present. He’ll turn up, it seemed to say, It’ll all be okay. (Meanwhile, Eduardo, who I had kidnapped precisely to stage this test, was befouling my basement with the most rancid excreta, not helping to soften my own sullen expression.) What I had sought for so long was a donor. And so Gary was selected. It was then just the matter of putting together the team that would carry out the transplant to my precise instructions, and securing a surgical slot at a nearby private hospital. To a man of my standing, child’s play. All I needed then was to devise some way of persuading Gary to go under the knife. Which was when luck finally found me. At a recent cocktail party, Gary asked my advice about a (clearly benign) mole on his upper lip. I told him to visit me this evening for a consultation. I don’t believe I will have any trouble in convincing him that the news, I’m afraid, is quite bad.
September 9, 2026 at 5:52 PM
nekomatic.bsky.social
Came to post the ‘where’s the Duo Dock’ gag but of course about five other people already have.

Someone should totally make one though, right? With powered eject obvs. Bonus points for a working SCSI connector.
September 9, 2026 at 7:50 PM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
disappoptimism.bsky.social
The number of small boat entries has dropped. Fact. There will always be refugees; this is a certainty. Fact.

I don’t understand how the Enochian narrative of “waves of savages” hasn’t been stopped dead now. It’s laughable.
September 9, 2026 at 7:47 AM
Reposted by Tom Hawkins
fornbirkibeinn.bsky.social
Broadly speaking it seems like the key question for whether a working-class pupil does well as school is if their parent wants them to have a better life than they do or more or less the same sort of life. And families with a migration background mostly did so for a better life, so...
September 9, 2026 at 8:52 AM