h a l f b a k e r ynon-lame halfbakery tagline
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The front of my bungalow is well protected from the summer heat, both by a classic, bull-nosed verandah (U.S. - Porch) and by the fact that it faces south (N.B. - this is in the Southern Hemisphere).
In winter, however, it's rather chilly. The mostly clear skies allow a fair amount of light and
warmth into the back of the house during the day, and the only challenge there is holding on to that warmth through the night, but the front has no such luck.
So, here is what I imagine:
Each winter's morning, before the sun is high, I put on my warmest dressing gown, and walk out on to the verandah. I sit down on a sort of massively-geared reclinable exercise bike, and start getting my morning exercise. As I pedal, the roof of the verandah starts to pivot on its outer edge; the inner edge detaches itself from the roof of the house, and inches upwards until the whole thing is held up improbably on edge.
Then, as soon as the winter sun makes it up over the rooftop, it is caught on the mirrored inner surface of the verandah's erstwhile roof, and bounced straight into the room where I am now typing this, enabling me to switch off the electric bar heater by my feet.
Come evening, the whole thing is lowered gently down, probably feeding energy into an obligatory battery, flywheel or other half-baked energy-storage device... or maybe straight back into that bar heater, while I draw the curtains.
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While I'm not wholeheartedly behind this particualr application, I find the use of human power to operate the transformation of various sections of a structure for intelligent purposes excellent. Focus the reflected rays on this bun. [+] |
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+ I would use one of these. |
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Here in the US south it is a Veranda if it has lovely wicker furniture, delicate cushions, and maybe a fluffy cat on it. If it has a disreputable couch, beer cans in the corner, and a couple of hound dogs, it's a porch. |
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Don't forget the lovely lady dressed in flowing white lace gently swaying on the porch swing while sipping a mint julip. |
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So, imagine my lovely lady in flowing white lace gently pedalling a wicker-framed exercise contraption, while quietly cursing her husband whose job it was supposed to be. |
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I always use "stoop" to describe the porches/verandas of the disreputable. |
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How, then, do you describe the kyphosis of the disreputable? Or would you never porch so low? |
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Well, see, it's a residential area, and there are speed bumps... |
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About six months from now it'll be 90 in the shade, but that doesn't really count, because it's never 0. |
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Love it. The base model would of course be missing the power-lowering feature. "Pedal faster, dear, it's raining sheets!" |
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