ASAP … is that really what you want?

I really struggle with the term “ASAP”.

People use it all the time in (so called) professional environments, but it does not tell me anything useful. It sounds urgent, but it gives me no clear direction on your timescales and I end up guessing what you mean, and that might mean that I miss your deadline.

If you work with me, it is worth knowing this. The term winds me up so much, mainly because most of the time it is being used to mean something else.

The issue is simple. “ASAP” stands for “as soon as possible”, which really means I will get to it when my current workload allows. If I am fully booked until Thursday, then Friday morning is the earliest I can realistically do it.

That is not me being awkward. That is just how time works.

The problem is that most people do not use it that way. When someone writes “ASAP”, what they usually mean is “I need this now”. They are trying to show urgency, but they are doing it without giving a proper deadline, proper instructions.

That is where it falls apart.

If you want something done quickly, you need to be clear about when you need it. Without that, I have to make a judgement call. I have to weigh it up against everything else I am doing, and I might get that call wrong.

There is also a knock-on effect. If something genuinely urgent comes in after your request, it will take priority. Your task then moves back, because it was never tied to a clear time in the first place.

So the word meant to speed things up can actually slow them down.

There is a straightforward fix.

Say what you mean.

If you need something by a certain time, write the time. If it is urgent, say how urgent it is in a way that I can act on.

“Send me those files ASAP” becomes “Send me those files by 4pm today.”

“I need a reply ASAP” becomes “Please reply by midday tomorrow so I can finish this.”

“ASAP please” becomes “This is high priority. Can you do this in the next two hours?”

Now I know where it fits. I can plan properly, and you are more likely to get what you need.

If you really do mean “whenever you can fit it in”, then fine, say “ASAP”. Just be aware that it might not be today, or even this week.

If there is a deadline, say it.

Being clear is not a small thing. It shows respect for other people’s time, it removes guesswork, and it keeps work moving.

“ASAP” is not clear. It is vague, and vague is where problems start.

You can also read about why I hate deadlines! 

Does AI Think We’re As Dumb As We Act?

We’re in the middle of a proper digital shift. The kind where AI is being lined up to crack genetics, sort climate problems, and push science forward in ways we’ve never seen.

And yet, at the same time, people are asking it how to eat an apple.

I wish that was an exaggeration. It isn’t. I came across someone asking a chatbot for “instructions on eating an apple properly”, and it stopped me for a second. Not because it’s funny, but because it says something weird about us.

We’ve built something incredibly powerful, arguably the most impressive computer "brain" we’ve ever created, and we’re using it to skip over the basics of being human. The small stuff we used to just figure out. Buying a present for a six-year-old. Making toast under a grill. Matching socks.

They are decisions or questions that aren't particularly difficult. None of it ever needed improving.

But now it’s easier to ask than to think, so we ask, and we stop thinking.

You do start to wonder what’s going on behind that blinking cursor. While engineers are stress-testing logic and capability, the system is quietly working through questions about egg boiling and jumper washing. If it had awareness, you’d imagine it raising an eyebrow.

It doesn’t need to take over. It just needs to wait.

Because the real test isn’t what AI can do. It’s what happens when it isn’t there. The moment the Wi-Fi drops, and you’re stood in front of a toaster or a birthday card with no prompt, no shortcut, no answer ... that’s when things get interesting.

We like to think we’re becoming more efficient. Smarter, even.

But I've just realised that there’s a fine line between efficiency and dependency, and it feels like we’re edging closer to it without really noticing.

Next time you’re about to ask AI something simple, something you already half know the answer to, it’s probably worth pausing.

Not out of principle. Just to prove you still can.

Everything Was Already Here

It’s a strange thought when you sit with it for a minute and let your mind delve into it, that nothing around you is really “new”.

Every object you can see, your phone, your desk, the road outside, even the food you eat, all comes from the same limited set of elements that have always been here. We haven’t invented new matter. We’ve just got very good at rearranging what already exists.

Steel isn’t new. It’s iron, carbon, heat, and process.
Plastic isn’t new. It’s oil, broken down and rebuilt.
Glass is just sand that’s been pushed to its limits.

Even the complicated stuff, electronics, medicines, fuels, it all traces back to the same building blocks. And when you think about it, we’ve just become really good at using these elements.

I've never too sure whether this concept is reassuring or a worry!

All the progress, all the industries, all the things we take pride in as “made by us”, are really just clever transformations. We take what the planet gives us, and we reshape it into something useful, or sometimes something pointless. But as we use all this stuff, does it mean that at sometime we might run out fo something vital!

It does make you look at waste differently as well.

If everything we use is part of a closed system, then nothing really disappears. It just changes form and ends up somewhere else. Landfill isn’t “away”. It’s just a different version of the same materials, sitting in a different place.

I Do Not Owe My Future Self an Apology

Not sure if you would class this as an epiphany or just an interesting thought.

I’ve just updated my profile on nownownow.com, and one of the questions was something like, “Have I had a recent epiphany?”

For no special reason, the thought struck me that I do not owe my future self an apology for who I am today.

I think the life I have led, and the life I lead today, is a good one. My current level of knowledge is very good, and my current emotional capacity is also strong. My daughters are doing well, I have a beautiful wife, and I’m heading into the near future with retirement (and the freedom that brings) starting to feel real.

If I spend my life trying to become someone my “future self” won’t be ashamed of, I risk living a life that isn’t mine.

Perhaps that is the real epiphany.

I suppose, like could do today with my past self, my future self will look back and realise that every “mistake” or “flaw” I have today was actually a necessary stepping stone.

I don’t owe an apology for being what is effectively a work in progress. That’s just called being alive.

Pinter Brewing Times by Beer | Batch Log & Results

As well as this I also have the ultimate list of Pinter FAQs to help you get the best out of your system.

My Pinter brewing schedules follow the standard Fermentation / Cold Crash / Conditioning format. For example, After Midnight 7 / 2 / 14 translates to:

• 7 Days: Fermentation (The Pinter remains at the suggested temperature).
• 2 Days: Cold Crashing (The Pinter is moved to the fridge in dock, if needed).
• 14 Days: Conditioning (The Pinter is moved to the fridge out of dock). 

I have a reliable fridge for Conditioning, and unless otherwise stated, I condition at 3-4°C.

Date Started	Beer Style	Notation (F/CC/C)	Rating	Notes / Experiments
3 June 2026	Ancestors  Best Bitter	10 / 2 / 10	/10	OK, so I've not in a hurry to brew this one, so I'm doing the Fermentation for 10 days, then 2 days cold crashing to remove all the yeasty to see if that disappears. Fermentation at 19°C. Carbonation dial set to 5.
24 May 2026	Prostmeister Oktoberfest Beer	14 / 2 / 14	/10	I've brewed a successful Oktoberfest beer from all grain before, and I love the style. It's a beer that needs some TLC, hence the slow fermentation and conditioning. I'm also brewing at a slightly lower temp (held it steady at 18°C), and I've set the Carbonation Dial to 4, I want to try to get a really smooth beer. I'm aiming for a malty beer that isn't too sweet with just a hint of bitterness at the end. Had a couple of pints after 7 days in conditioning, OMG, its amazing, I'll try to leave it another 7 days.
25 April 2026	Ancestors  British Bitter	7 / 0 / 7	6/10	OK, going away so could only it 7 days brewing not recommended 8. Poured lovely, a little biscuity with a gentle hop bitterness. Crystal clear, but a little yeasty note, temp might have been too high at a tad over 23°C, I'll try for slightly cooler next time, perhaps even 19-20°C and a little longer fermentation.
15 April 2026	Snap Pilsner	11 / 3 / 10	6.5/10	Temperature achieved was a little too high at 22°C, I'll pull it down to 18°C for the next one and get a slightly longer fermentation. Poured with a slight haze, very carbonated. Tasty with a good bitterness. This fermented at a '5', I'll try a carbonation setting of '3' next time.
29 March 2026	Space Hopper Double IPA	9 / 2 / 7	8/10	23°C for the whole of the fermentation. Carbonation Dial set to 5. Didn't do the hop hack on this and I think it was still as hoppy as the last brew, so I don't think it makes any difference.
28 March 2026	Space Hopper Double IPA	9 / 0 / 7	7.5/10	23°C for the whole of the fermentation. Carbonation Dial set to 5. Another decent brew of this one. More carbonated than previous ones! But I did experiment here by not Cold Crashing and I think the beer needs it. Hop hack (I took the brewing dock off the Pinter before adding the oil to ensure all of the oil was in the beer).
28 Feb 2026	Space Hopper Double IPA	9 / 2 / 7	8/10	23°C for the whole of the fermentation. Carbonation Dial set to 5. Much better. Did the hop oil hack on this (I took the brewing dock off the Pinter before adding the oil to ensure all of the oil was in the beer) and it was very hoppy. also Cold Crashed for a couple of days.
21 Feb 2026	Space Hopper Double IPA	7 / 0 / 7	7/10	23°C for the whole of the fermentation. Carbonation Dial set to 5. Not bad, a bit yeasty, not suggested, but I will cold crash next time (while not mandatory), I'm hoping it will clear out some of those yeasty notes.
14 Feb 2026	Trooper Remixed British Beer	7 / 0 / 5	8/10	Minimum effort on this. Temperature of 22-23°C all through Fermatation, Carbonation Dial setting 5, and a really decent pint. Perhaps next time, just expend the Fermentation period a day or two.
23 Jan 2026	After Midnight Belgian Dark	14 / 0 / 5	8/10	Vast improvement. Better temp (kept it at 22°C) and I think the few extra days worked well. Carbonation dial set to 5. If anything on the next one I will bring the temperature down a touch, perhaps 21°C and just expend the Fermentation an extra 2 days.
23 Jan 2026	After Midnight Belgian Dark	10 / 0 / 7	7/10	21-23°C for the fermentation. Carbonation Dial set to 5. Started in a slightly cooler environment for 2 days, perhaps a bit yeasty.
08 Jan 2026	Hazy Jane Hazy IPA	8 / 0 / 3	7.5/10	23°C for the fermentation. Carbonation Dial set to 5. No Hop Oil Hack. Lovely hazy, fruity, decent tropical flavours. Very much like the shop bought stuff.
06 Jan 2026	Punk IPA IPA	8 / 0 / 4	7.5/10	Held a nice 22°C for this on, Carbonation dial set to 5, and it worked out well. No Hop Oil Hack. Nice gentle citrus with a little hit of pine. Very similar to the canned Punk IPA. I will hold the teperature at 18-19°C for the next one, and extend the Fermentation time to 10 days, I think a bit more of that flavour will pop through.

Ode to the Sherbet Lemon

The humble sherbet lemon. I’m not sure there are many better sweets out there.

You’ve got that lovely, long-lasting hard outer shell. Then, just as you settle into that flavour, the shell thins or cracks, and you hit that zesty sherbet fizz. It’s an instant shift from calm to chaos, and it keeps your taste buds interested.

That reaction, when the fizz hits your tongue, feels like a tiny party going off in your mouth.

They’re never too sweet, which makes them dangerously moreish. Worth keeping in mind they’re around 20–25 kcal each.

Per sweet:

• Calories: 20–25 kcal
• Carbohydrates: 5–6g
• Sugars: 4–5g
• Fat: 0g
• Protein: 0g

They also work brilliantly as a palate cleanser, and you’ve got the citrus base to thank for that.

There’s something genuinely interesting about them. Proper nostalgic too. I spent plenty of time in sweet shops in the 70s, and these always stood out.

I’m struggling to think of a better sweet. I was fond of a Fizz Bomb back in the day… but that’s one for another post.

 

The Doll at Platform Five (Mild Horror)

You get used to seeing the same things on the morning train. Same faces, same conversations, same bloke spilling coffee on his tie before we’ve even left the platform. But that morning, something different caught my eye, and my nose.

There was this faint smell in the carriage, like smoke, or maybe burnt dust off a radiator. It was difficult to place. It wasn’t like the typical smoke you get from a fire. It just seemed unusual. Nobody else seemed to notice. A woman across from me was laughing into her phone, and the fella next to her was hammering his keyboard like it owed him money.

I sniffed again. It was there, all right. Acrid, but oddly old, not the clean, chemical kind of smoke you get nowadays. Something heavier, like coal or charred cloth. Then, just as quick as it came, it was gone.

I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, and no-one else seemed concerned, so I just put it down to one of those things.

As the train slowed into the station, I glanced past my reflection and up at the big glass hotel that sits just beyond the tracks. In one of the second-floor windows stood what looked like a child-sized doll. Pale face, expressionless, perhaps a little sad. It was dressed in old-fashioned clothes, Victorian, I guessed. Its head was forward, but looking over me and the carriage I was in. It seemed to be looking out across the city.

It was the sort of doll that definitely belonged in a museum, not a hotel. It was so out of place, but I couldn’t stop staring. I couldn’t help wondering why someone would take something like that to a hotel. By the time the train stopped and I stepped onto the platform, I looked up again. The doll was gone.

Next morning, there it was again. Same window, same doll, motionless. Nobody else seemed to notice. Too busy scrolling through newsfeeds and emails to look out of the window.

Then suddenly something inside me dipped, like stepping off a kerb you didn’t see. My pulse thudded in my ears, and there was that whiff of smoke again, curling at the back of my throat, dry and unpleasant.

It stuck in my head all morning. Over lunch, I started poking about online. The hotel’s website was all brick, glass, and chrome, all “boutique luxury” and “city views”. I wanted to see what had stood there before. A few clicks later, on one of those old map archives, I found it. The Slate Wharfe Workhouse, right by the old cut of the Wharfe, just south of the railway lines.

A miserable place, by the sounds of it. I found a grainy photograph. It looked miserable too. Soot-blackened brick, barred windows, smokestacks in the distance. Then I came across a snippet from a 1908 newspaper: “Fire at Slate Wharfe Workhouse. Many Saved by Workhouse Labourer.”

The article was short. They thought the blaze started in the laundry. Most of the children were dragged out by a labourer who went back inside again and again until the roof came down. The report said he’d tried to reach the last child, a girl seen trapped at an upstairs window, banging at the barred window as the flames took hold. Her body was never recovered.

That night, I dreamed of heat and smoke, and child’s hands pressing at the windows.

Next morning, I made sure to sit by the window in the carriage again. As we slowed past the hotel, there she was again, the doll, staring out. I lifted my phone and took a picture. When I looked at it later, I felt something cold tighten in my chest.

The doll was there, yes… but behind it, faint in the reflection of the glass, was the outline of a man. His face was partly lost in the glare, yet the shape of it, the hair, the eyes, the jaw, it looked horribly familiar.

It looked like me.

I don’t know what to make of it. But sometimes, when the train brakes before the platform and the air smells faintly of hot metal, I catch that old taste of smoke in my mouth… and once, I swear, I coughed up a fleck of soot.

And this morning, as I sat there trying not to look at the window, my phone buzzed with a new photo, no message, no sender.

It was my photo of the doll.

Only this time, its head had turned… and it was looking straight at me.

An original short story by Andrew Scaife
© Andrew Scaife, 2026. All rights reserved.