Maybe I need not worry about the Windows 10 support withdrawal

Only ten months now before Microsoft turns off support for Windows 10. 

MS has been hustling every user of Windows 10 (and earlier versions of Windows) to upgrade to Windows 11. I gather that the latest OS is awkward to use in some respects, and is not popular. But in any case, the new architecture that comes with Windows 11 means that older devices - and some bought only a couple of years ago - cannot run it. So 'upgrading' involves buying a new laptop or desktop device at considerable expense. 

This, understandably, is unwelcome to a lot of people. There is resistance. In my own case, my present laptop - a Microsoft Surface Book that was posh and fairly cutting-edge in 2016 when I bought it, and is still working perfectly well - is stuck with Windows 10. I can't install Windows 11 on it. So what should I do?  

In the immediate period, there's nothing I can do. The money I'd set aside for a replacement laptop sometime in early 2025 - £2,500 - has been swallowed up by dental treatment and some other necessary things. I can't conjure up further cash, because my savings accounts are depleted, and replenishment is slow while the monthly car repayments persist. I can't do it all. The car repayments end in October 2026. I need not wait until the hire-purchase balance reduces to absolutely nil. It'll be financially safe to buy a new laptop in mid-2026. I could treat myself to a shiny new Surface Book (or something of similar refinement) for my 74th birthday in July 2026. 

But that's still a year and a half away. Will I be exposed to online security threats from October 2025 to July 2026? It's a concern.

MS have said that they will continue to support Windows 10 after October 2025 if a user pays for hitherto-free security updates. I should therefore be able to buy a year's cover. I don't know what the cost will actually be. If only £30, it's probably a no-brainer. But MS will have a gun at users' heads, and may feel that they can ask for £100, or even £150. If they do, I'll be wondering whether I can instead rely on my Android phone for all Internet access, and use the laptop offline-only.   

But now a thought has occurred to me. Both phone and laptop are currently protected by my annual F-Secure antivirus and malware subscription. That would continue for at least the phone. So if, as now, I tethered the laptop to the phone, wouldn't I be safe, even without Windows 10 security updates? In other words, wouldn't the phone trap incoming viruses and malware, and not send them on to the laptop? 

I have researched this a bit. I've read that, even without any special protection in place, viruses and malware designed to exploit vulnerabilities in Android will do nothing to a Windows device, as the OSs are so different. And that if the user has installed protective software (F-Secure in my case), then harmful code will be neutralised and expunged before it crosses over to another connected device. Is that really true? There are other points to make. I don't surf the web indiscriminately. I take care, and stick to 'proper' websites (F-Secure vets them for me; so does Google itself). Furthermore, I'm not on any kind of social media, which drastically reduces my risk of getting into difficulties. And most of the time, I use the laptop offline, predominately for photo-editing. 

So to conclude, I think that after the plug is pulled on Windows 10 in October 2025 I will still be able to use my now-elderly laptop to safely access the Internet, providing I do it through the phone, and not directly. Just as if I were away on holiday. 

Mind you, I will definitely look forward to having a modern laptop during 2026, simply to have more speed, and perhaps a larger screen. A faster machine will improve my photo-editing workflow, and greatly speed up my backups to external storage media. But I can wait for the right machine, at the right moment. 

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A horn for Christmas

Christmas Markets have long been very popular. I quite like them. They are so atmospheric, especially once it starts to get dark. And opportunities to take great photos abound, whether it's pictures of the stalls or the merry throng of people stopping to see what the traders are selling. Occasionally there will be an unmissable shot - for instance this one, which I took at Winchester Christmas Market next to the Cathedral in 2011. The stall was a 'live' display of the nativity scene, complete with a goat (I think it's a goat). I can't remember what Mary and Jesus were doing at the time, but here's Joseph on his mobile phone, to God presumably. I captioned the photo thus: Joseph queries surprise baby with Higher Authority. 

It's the incongruity of the phone, of course, that makes the picture. But supposing they did have phones back then, it would still have made a good shot because I'm not sure that Mary would have prepared Joseph for the arrival of a holy child. How could she possibly explain it? 'Oh by the way, Joe, the Archangel Gabriel popped by while you were out, and as a result I'm pregnant! Isn't that incredible?' It might not have gone down well. So she'd keep silent until the birth was imminent, and only then explain. But it would turn out fine. Before Joseph could ask probing questions or express any misgivings, a super-bright star would flare in the sky, amazed shepherds would knock on the door, three richly-clad kings from the Orient would arrive with gifts, all the animals in the stable would cluster around the glowing cradle, and a heavenly chorus would sing loudly. Joseph would naturally take all these things as infallible signs of divine intervention. Wouldn't you? But later, when he had a quiet moment, he might have given Heaven a bell, just to check that this was all kosher, and that there was no mistake. And I've caught him making that call.

This year I was at the Christmas Market in Canterbury with my cousin Rosemary. The usual scenes.

But we saw one stall we hadn't seen before. The man was selling goods fashioned from animal horns - drinking horns mainly, but all kinds of other articles, some decorative, some useful, but all rather attractive.

It was fascinating to look at. The horns were real, with natural patterns on them. And we were assured that they were, in the main, cow horns from Africa. Neither of us knew enough about African cows to dispute that. Certainly they weren't rhino horns. We both ended up wanting to buy something. I chose a shoe horn costing £8. Though a humble purchase, it was a thing of beauty. The man wrapped it up carefully in tissue paper. 

I use a shoe horn pretty well daily, to get lace-up leather shoes and boots on, and I already had a perfectly good plastic shoe horn that I bought from Timpson the shoe repairers in 2023. That would now become my spare. Henceforth, I'd make this posher version - made, as I said, from the horn of an African cow - my number one shoe horn, the one I'd carry around in my bag. 

Back home, I unpacked it and inspected it more closely. I hadn't been diddled. It really was cut and shaped from a piece of natural horn. Its surface was smooth and polished, but with little bumps and some pitting, which I don't think would have been present if just a moulded plastic shoe horn. It was slightly translucent, as I could see by holding it against a light. 

Next morning, in daylight, I had an even closer look. 

LXV (my Leica X Vario camera) has reproduced the colours precisely. I think it looks very attractive indeed, a feast for the eye, particularly on the convex side (the lower shot). 

Here it is, compared to the now-superseded plastic Timpson shoe horn.

They are almost the same size, seven inches long. The new shoe horn is slightly heavier, but also more substantial, and likely to last longer. Although functionally no better than the plastic Timpson article, the African Cow version wins hands down for looks and style, in my opinion. 

The natural pattern on each side of the new shoe horn reminded me of some photos I'd taken. For example, these recent shots of a sunset at Shoreham.

But more especially of the subtle colours that gradually developed during a sunrise in New Zealand in 2007, at a little place called Karitane, on the coast north of Dunedin, in South Island. I can't help showing the entire sequence of pictures. It was such a lovely sunrise. These were not Leica shots. I was using a Canon G6 compact zoom camera, with a sensor of only 7 megapixels. But didn't it do well.

In the last shot, you can see where we had parked the campervan overnight, at the head of a little beach, right by the tidal water. I remember hearing the roar of the tide only feet away from the campervan during the night. But it was the spectacular dawn that I most wondered at. And some of those colours are reproduced in my new shoe horn.

In some ways the shoe horn also conjures up the appearance of certain shells, and mother-of-pearl. New Zealand in 2007 again.

Let's get even more fanciful. The shape of this shoe horn also reminds me of the jade weapon called a mere, used by the Maori warriors of New Zealand in past centuries. Here's a sequence I shot in the Southland Museum at Invercargill.

And this was a modern replica I saw on sale in Auckland.

The mere was a serious close-combat weapon. The jade used for the best of them was very hard, and would easily break bones. It was used in a upward jabbing fashion, aimed at head, neck or ribs, and as the opponent fell, a sharp downward thrust on his head with the hilt would deliver the coup de grace. Warriors would of course have to face up to each other at very close quarters, and running away was considered so shameful as to be inconceivable. Personal and tribal honour depended on either killing one's opponent cleanly and skilfully, or accepting a killing blow if that opponent had the advantage. Yes, it has already struck me that a stiff shoe horn could be used in the same way, though hopefully not with lethal effect. But I dare say the police would take a dim view of using such an article in any way other than the normal one! 

Me, I can find other, less martial uses. For instance, here I am, recreating that Pop Idol moment. 

Pity I can't sing!

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