Videos of Brian Reeves-Hall giving the background to his vintage radios, clocks and other things! Click to view the playlist on YouTube. Check back for new additions in the weeks ahead.

Technology runs in my family – in my dad’s case it was a passion for vintage radios, clocks and cameras. But mainly the radios.

10 years ago I interviewed my dad about his collection – many pieces which he restored using original parts. Following his death I am only now getting around to editing and publishing it all! Still more videos to be added in the coming weeks the playlist that I’ve started putting together.

As I cleared out his house, I also came across some other things I never knew he had: a vintage slide projector, an original Polariod camera (bellows and all), and a typewriter with round keys.

There was also a ton, and it may be literally that!, of bits & pieces he used in his hospital / nursing-home security business (he made custom staff attack alarms, protecting nurses).

Over time, more videos will be coming. For now, here’s a start…

The Docmail Local Post company uses bicycles to deliver around some UK towns (image ©docmail).

On 19 April 2013 there was an article published about the Somerset council in Bath saving £6000 every year because they are sending out council tax bills using a bicycle-based delivery company.

Update 22/04/13: The Postal Services Director of Bristol based Docmail Local Post, Joe Broadway told me that they use a fleet of hybrid bicycles – the Saracen Urban Escape – to deliver roughly 20,000 items a month across their sites in Bristol and Bath. They used to use electric bicycles but found them to be problematic and costly to maintain. They are expanding slowly through the UK, with the next locations to be served being in Slough and Edinburgh.

Joe told me, “We deliver roughly 20,000 items a month across both of our sites and prevent the production of (by our own estimates) roughly 0.7 grams of C02 per letter we deliver via our network.”

This story reminded me that I had not yet followed-up with my MP, Sir George Young and the CEO of Royal Mail on how their so-called “Modernisation” programme is progressing. You see, modernisation to Royal Mail meant getting rid of many of their bicycle delivery routes, and using vans or trolleys instead.

MP PURSUES CEO OF ROYAL MAIL

Back on 2nd December 2011, I read on Sir George’s constituency blog about Royal Mail and bicycles. His blog stated:

Sir George is pursuing with Royal Mail the policy of withdrawing bicycles for delivery “no one wants employees to work in a dangerous environment, but I wonder whether withdrawing the bicycle and replacing them with vans is efficient and environmentally effective. I am pursuing this with the Chief Executive of Royal Mail.”

I wrote to my MP to ask for further information about his campaign and in turn he asked the CEO of Royal Mail, Moya Greene, former CEO of Canada Post, to reply to me.

UK-WIDE MODERNISATION PROGRAMME

Sir George Young, MP on left with John Gilmore at Royal Mail’s Andover sorting office in December 2011 (photo ©SGY).

The CEO told me in a letter dated 2nd January 2012 that the change-over from using bicycles was “part of a UK-wide modernisation programme aimed at placing the business on a more efficient and sustainable footing for the future.”

The reason for Royal Mail’s reduction in the use of bicycles was because people were often using email instead of letters; and more significantly because “more packets are sent as a result of the huge growth in home shopping.”

Regarding the delivery of packets, the CEO said that “as our people carry heavier mail bags we have to consider they safety and practicality of using cycles.”

MAJOR INJURY TO STAFF

Moreover, she went on to make this claim: “We have seen an increase in accidents (sic) linked to the use of cycles on busy road networks and in a number of cases these accidents (sic) result in major injury to our staff.”

Aside: I quote directly from her letter, and note that often times “accidents” are rarely that; indeed, police refer to them as “crashes” or “collisions”, just as most major news organisation now do too. See info HERE for example. Hot Fuzz clip anyone?

Needless to say, the CEO’s comments made me think of more questions, and so I wrote back to my MP to ask for further information and clarification.

FURTHER INEFFICIENCY AND 576 INCIDENTS

The CEO told me in her follow-up letter dated 2nd February 2012,

“The capacity of cycles is limited and time is lost doubling back to re-supply points. Using additional vehicles to supplement cycles means that we are potentially covering the same ground twice and so creating further inefficiency.”

A postal worker delivers the mail by bicycle in Fleet, Hampshire.

The CEO quoted Royal Mail statistics: she said in 2010-2011 there were 576 bike related incidents accounting for 2,748 lost working days.

She did not provide comparative information about the number of incidents for non-bicycle delivery methods (walking, or vans for example).

She also said, “Changing delivery methods will reduce accident (sic) rates, incident severity and musculoskeletal related sick absence.”

TRIALED AND REJECTED RANGE OF CYCLES

The Royal Mail CEO claims they did investigate and trial a range of cycles, tricycles and trailers. The company concluded, though, “for a variety of reasons these were found to be unsatisfactory. There were issues with range, hill-climbing, consistency, frame and component failures. There were also concerns of the risk of theft by third parties when ‘paused’ at an address.”

She finished her letter by stating,

“Whilst we are reducing the number of cycles in the fleet we are not removing them altogether and many low volume village/rural routes will use bicycles.”

Indeed, that last bit is true – I have seen some mail being delivered by staff riding bicycles around Fleet, Hampshire (where I work).

Heading out to deliver the post (last delivery from the sorting office in Whitchurch, May 2009).

Alas, in Whitchurch, Hampshire where I live, bicycle delivery is no longer used – indeed, Royal Mail got rid of them when they shut their Sorting and Delivery Office (see my article and video on that HERE - interview with bicycle delivery postal work is at 16min 22sec in the video).

ASKED FOR LATEST STATISTICS

I have now written to my MP, Sir George Young, to follow-up with Royal Mail in order to see whether there has indeed been a cost-savings by using vans and trolleys, and what the crash incident rate (and lost working days) has been.

Thankfully, there were plenty of things going on in the daylight too: a fun festival with burger stand and beer tent.

For the past few years, Sustrans (a registered charity) has been converting a disused railway line into a shared path that people walking and cycling can enjoy on their way to work or when out for a bit of leisure.

I wrote a story about it over on The Joy of Cycling where I also embedded the video that I made.

What isn’t written there though is how my kids and I got separated just at the exit of the shorter of the two tunnels! You’ll see them riding ahead of me, then they scoot around some people who are walking just before the tunnel’s exit. I got stuck behind the people because others were entering the tunnel.

Into the lightly-lit darkness.

END UP IN SALISBURY?

I figured that they gave a burst of speed in their new found freedom and took off down the track. I came out of the tunnel and passed the people but must have also passed them – I didn’t see them, nor them me.

I didn’t get too worried though – it was a closed path, but I had no idea how far ahead it went. Maybe I’d end up in Salisbury before catching up with them!

Later, my wife told me that our children are quite sensible and always stop and wait. Now I know. Because sure enough they had.

Meanwhile, I raced ahead and got to the entrance of the next tunnel. I waited. I took some photos. I waited some more. Then I figured, they’re definitely on their way to Salisbury. So, into the tunnel I rode.

Who’s children would drop leaves on people?

SOOTHING

In the middle of the tunnel is a wonderfully soothing music and light show – very understated but just right to relax you at that point when you cannot see the entrance or exit because of the slight bend in the tunnel. I got off my bike and waited. I took some photos and more video. I waited a bit more. Then I figured, they’re well past Salisbury by now. So, I continued to ride out.

Emerging back into daylight, I enjoyed the lovely countryside that included none of my children, nor my friend John whom I had also met at the start of the ride. That’d be him on the Brompton you see in the video.

So, I rode on. It is a wonderful path. The viaduct offered a spectacular view.

STRAIGHT OR LEFT?

I came to the point where the sign “Bike Ride” pointed left, and took people off the old railway track path. Now, would my kids have followed that sign and the people going left, or would they have continued straight on the route?

They would have continued straight. For sure. Right?

I rode straight on.

Soon, I came to an old platform where the former Midford railway station used to be. Just at its end was a barrier and a car park for the Hope & Anchor pub and neither my children or friend John.

A refreshing end to the route.

POSSESSED?

Either my children truly were possessed by the bicycle bug and passed this point on their way to Salisbury, or they had sense and didn’t. I figured my kids had sense and that they must have been behind me. Or taken the left at the “Bike Ride” sign. As for John, he may very well have been in the pub. Priorities. I turned around and rode back in search of my children. The pub would be open late. And my kids would know to look for me in it if we managed to completely miss each other.

I got back to the “Bike Ride” sign. I waited. But not long. Decision time. I stayed on the track and rode up to the tunnel entrance. Lots of people and none of them related to me.

The minder of my children (whom I owed a heart-felt ‘Thank You’)

IN MY VIEWFINDER…

So I got the video camera out again (I had stopped filming when I reached the car park barrier) and did some shots of the walls on the side leading up to the tunnel. I panned down and across to the entrance. There in my viewfinder appeared Tosha, then Tolii. And then John.

“You can have your children back now,” said my good friend John.

He wasn’t smiling too much (they can be a handful, but I think it was more me he was upset with than them).

I explained my story (see above). He said they had waited in many places because both my kids insisted that I was behind them. Remember, they never saw me pass by at the exit of the first tunnel.

That would explain why all my waiting was in vain – they were waiting too but further back.

BACK TO THE PUB!

Thanks exchanged, happiness restored, we set out together and surprise! ended up at the pub. I bought the drinks and crisps. It was the least I could do.

Now, if you watch the video, you won’t see things this way. It will appear that we all travel together to the pub. That’s the magic of editing.

My kids said it was the best day out cycling they had ever had. Me too. Probably for John as well.

That’d be me with my dad, Brian Henry Reeves-Hall, just a couple weeks before he passed away.

Brian Henry Reeves-Hall, my wonderful dad, died on 5 March 2013 at 9:53am EST (2:53pm UK time) in Cambridge, Ontario, Canada, following nearly 78 years of joy (mostly) since July 14 1935.

Dad’s wish was to donate his body to science, and I am so pleased to say that McMaster University accepted him into their Bequeathal Program. It is an incredible feeling to know that, even now in death, dad is still helping people as he had helped people during his life: He was a life-long donor of blood, plasma and platelets – 121 donations in all. At least in Canada.

Dad was diagnosed with stomach cancer* just on 13 February, less than a month ago, though he thought something was ‘not quite right’ in mid-January. His back became increasingly sore, as if he had rolled onto a plug during one of his install jobs.

*Aside: Today, 6 March it was announced (story HERE) that a study had shown promising results in detecting stomach cancer using a simple breath test

Dad was working as an electronics engineer even when in hospital recently: when I came over in mid-February he asked if we could pop into one of his clients to finish a job! I convinced him that they’d understand if we didn’t.

Lovely Testbourne Manor field west of Whitchurch, Hampshire. Photo taken by coincidence at precisely the time my dad died.

While I was in Canada, he was transferred back to his home; and I was so glad to be have been there to help. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to last: he got weaker and was readmitted to hospital last week.

At the precise time of his passing my boys and I were walking along the footpath through one of Testbourne Manor’s fields just outside Whitchurch, Hampshire, having had a great day rambling out to Hurstbourne Priors for a pub lunch.

By chance, a couple of the photos I was snapping along the way coincided precisely with the moment of his passing. I couldn’t wish for a better place to associate with that time: shinning sun, warm on our backs, beautiful countryside, and a feeling of spring in the air.

We have so many great memories of him (and things built by him around the house and garden!).

Dad apprenticed as a tool & die engineer up in Birmingham, England where he grew up with his older brother Leonard (father himself to two great boys now men, my cousins, Adrian and David). Dad enrolled into the Forces where he served as an aerial rigger, serving in Iraq back in the 1950s.

Brian with his brother Leonard’s family in March 2003 (any of my family have the original of this picture!?)

He emigrated to Canada in the 1960s, met my mum Angela there (also a British emigrant), and then I came along. I remember him spending a lot of time in his workshop, down in the basement – he was forever mucking about with electronics: fixing up some interesting gadget he had found in a surplus shop or even out in the spring cleanups. He built me a huge fold-down table onto which we built, and firmly attached, an HO gauge train set. Fold it away and I had a full playroom to mess up; Fold it down and there was my train set – complete with all kinds of electronic signalling dad had built.

Dad loved building and fixing things. In the 1970s there were a lot of people tossing out their radios and so he picked them up to restore them. Back in their day, radios were large things, encased in wooden cabinets – proper pieces of furniture in their own right. By the 1970s, though, transistor radios had clearly come to dominate through their smaller size, and so people cleared out their living rooms of the big boxes – much like has happened to the (uglier) large CRT style TV sets during the 2000s as flat-screen technology took hold.

Dad would fix up the radios – replacing the broken vacuum tubes with identical replacements, or make transistor substitutes (but encase them to look like vacuum tubes!) – and then he would restore the wooden cabinets that encased them. He has a superb collection in his house; and his wish is that they go to interested collectors, perhaps the Hammond Museum of Radio in Guelph, Ontario if they’re interested.

Brian in Toronto on his wedding day, 7 May 1966

He also kept an eye out for other historic pieces; picking up and fixing up industrial master/slave clocks and restoring an early example of a back-lit clock made with thermo-setting plastics.

After my parents split up in the early 1980s, dad moved around a fair bit but always staying near to Toronto. I think the recession of the late 80s did his job in and that’s when he became a full-time entrepreneur. He had continued aerial rigging on the side as ‘Antennaman services’ but now was the time to go full-time, and so created HABAR [a collection of letters from his and my initials] and later renamed that to ‘Semaphore Communications’.

He finally earned just enough to afford a down-payment on a house – a small, war-time built house in Cambridge, Ontario – in 1992.

His house is more workshops than anything else – one workshop is in the back with a drill press and grinders; and two workshops are upstairs including a well-stocked electronics bench. He has boxes of parts – this and that found in various surplus shops mainly – for making whatever is needed for a job, or just comes into his mind.

Brian on right with his brother Leonard and mother Winnie around 1941

Lately, examples of what came into his mind included a complete signalling system for the (larger scale) LGB train set which I had handed down to my kids; and various gadgets that make all kinds of weird and wonderful sounds.

That reminds me: I must see if he has kept the box he created for me as a kid – it had a whole bunch of dials on it, but just one button, which was labelled ‘don’t press this button’. What kid wouldn’t press that button!? Woe be to you if you did. Only dad knew the secret to turning off the loud siren and screeches the box made as you fumbled with all the dials trying to silence the blasted thing! Great fun.

Dad worked most of his life in health-care related fields, most recently – for the past 30 years – as an entrepreneur creating bespoke staff attack alarm systems for nursing homes and hospitals, including Sunnybrook Hospital in Toronto. Gosh knows how many nurses have benefited from having his system alert security staff to an attack by a deranged patient.

Years ago, back in my senior high school days, I worked with him on a door entry/exit monitoring system which was trialed in a Toronto hospital: he made all the electronics and I wrote the software which ran on my Apple ][+ computer. For my troubles, I won the IBM award at the Canada-wide Computer Fair, and he got some business! I think that was probably the last time he used software in one of his creations -- he was firmly 'old school' and built equipment from resistors, capacitors, and all those other interesting bits you have to solder together. Rarely did they need 'upgrading' and they definitely didn't need any virus protection!

"I like me too but then I know I'm wonderful"
-- one of dad's sayings whenever I went a bit over the top about how good I was at fixing something

Fiddling with gadgets extended to tweaking his Mac+ (still working!) with an hour-timer so he could bill clients for time he spent using its design programmes. His good friend George Quigley designed the talking 'coffee' circuit board, so he told me, which was on display at the Ontario Science Centre for a number of years (aside: I recall dad taking me there on so many occasions;  both of us acted like 'kids in a candy shop' playing with all the kit on offer, forgetting we were learning; years later I would attend the Science School there).

He also loved creating all kinds of lighting systems for each car he ever owned: There was no fog or snow storm which would blind him during his many hours and many miles on the road to customers!

Brian and Leonard Reeves Hall in January 2005

Much as dad loved to hop on a bicycle — I spotted his 1960s Raleigh in his garage, although he had to replace the seat as the original split — he used his car extensively. He made sure each was serviced regularly by Werner’s and kept in top form – they were essential to his business. He wore them out though. One of his cars clocked up 1 million (!) kilometres before he was forced to trade it in: the steering column was close to cracking and it would have been prohibitively expensive to repair it.

Clearly, he didn’t travel a million kilometres just on business: he also travelled by car for pleasure. He loved his adopted country of Canada, and drove from his home in Cambridge, Ontario out to the east coast. He ‘dipped’ his car’s front tires into the Atlantic Ocean. A couple years later, he took the opportunity of driving out to visit me when I was out on the west coast of Canada on a university co-op work-term in Vancouver. That’s when he dipped his car’s front wheels into the Pacific Ocean.

He never seemed to mind driving great distances: When I was studying at the University of Waterloo, just north of Cambridge, in the late 1980s and early 1990s dad would kindly offer to pick me up and drive me over to my mum’s place in Whitby on various weekends (not just for doing the laundry, but that too). It was only years later that it dawned on me that: (a) this was his way of spending time with me even if I occasionally fell asleep and snored loudly in the passenger seat; and (b) it was a massive round-trip for him to do on the Friday and again on the Sunday – he was living in Ajax at the time I think. For crying out loud! (as dad often would say) – that’s over 300km according to Google Maps! Wow! This just typical, though, of the kindhearted things dad did.

When not in his car, especially when I was a young lad, we all went out on our bicycles. As a family we would explore the neighbourhoods in Whitby, Ontario. I was hooked: later as a teenager I wasn’t the kind to hang out on the street – rather I was riding the street on my bicycle for hours on end. Without a doubt, it was those family cycle rides that got me hooked on the joy of cycling that I continue to this day.

My kids were born in 2003 and 2005, shortly after I relocated to England. Dad made regular journeys back to the UK to visit them and us, each time bringing a bag-load of treats (and gadgets!) for us all. Not one to lay idle, he always asked for a to-do list. In the early days it was enough to help us with watching the kids, or perhaps putting them to bath & bed while Katya and I enjoyed a rare night out.

Dad built a bench on tree stumps! Here’s Tosha, Andrew, Brian and Tolii testing it out in June, 2012.

On later visits, he started building things. My workshop is no comparison to his, but he made-do somehow! One time, we needed to replace a fence gate with a larger one. He built the new one completely from scratch, and then used the old one as a base for a play fort which still sits in our garden to this day. We moved house a few years ago and he was called upon to build yet another fence and gate for us! On his last visit to us, in the wet summer of 2012, dad built a set of benches for our garden. The time before that, when time came to cut down a tree at the bottom of our lawn, dad built a bench that straddled its two former trunks, and then topped off other bits with wooden tables so we’d have somewhere to put our wine glasses as we enjoy a bonfire together! There’s memories of dad pretty much anywhere you look around our place now!

The man thrived on challenges; and building things with his own hands. He was a good teacher too: he took the time to involve me – and later my kids – in his projects. At his side, we all learned the importance of being ambidextrous (ie able to use either hand to turn a screwdriver or hammer in a nail); to “just hang on a cotton-pickin’ minute” as he put right something that I’d successfully mucked up; and that Robertson screws were the best darn screws ever invented – and they were Canadian too, eh?

Dad was one for laughing. A lot. Heartily. Embarrassingly so, sometimes! I remember going to the cinema with him, I think to see Airplane!, and boy did he laugh. All kids get embarrassed by their parents at some point, and for me it was in the cinema as a teenager! Mind, I think I was laughing pretty good too, just not as loud as him! (He also had a very particular way of blowing his nose).

For as long as I remember, dad had a passion for recording comedy programs. He has a collection of reel-to-reel and cassette tapes of most episodes of the Goon Show and The Royal Canadian Air Farce (in the days when it was a radio show!), amongst others.

Sure, he had his quirks. Like the fact that he did not like being told by the phone company that he would be charged for tone dialing – “they want how much?” he would say. To this day, his phone still used pulse dial: clickety-clickety-clickity for each digit pressed (as if on a rotary phone). This holding out, of course, made life uneasy for Bell Canada. It cost them money to keep old equipment working for pulse dialing. Dad knew that – and so never could accept why they would dare charge people for the new tone dialing ‘feature’ that was there precisely to make life more efficient for the phone company. Makes sense to me!

Dad insisted on never being upgraded to tone dialing. Bell Canada, so I hear, had to install a special exchange for him and other hold-outs, as the modern computer-based exchanges couldn’t handle pulse dialing. You pick up his phone and you hear some noises as his call is routed to this special exchange, ready to receive each digit’s pulses.

Grandpa building an apple press with the assistance (!?) of Tolii and Tosha

I think I have inherited his stubbornness on matters of principle, and the right-to-protest.  It is an interesting quirk of fate that we have settled here in Whitchurch, Hampshire, where the right to protest was won for the UK in the late 1800s by the Salvation Army.

That reminds me, it was the Salvation Army that dad chose as his charity to donate to in his will. On my visit to see him a couple weeks ago, I asked him why the Salvation Army, and he said it was because “sometimes, no matter where you were in the world, they seemed to be the ones always ready to serve you a cup of tea in your toughest times, when there may be no one else around to support you.”

I think it was the Salvation Army who visited him in an army hospital during his service in Iraq after he was nearly killed by a sniper.

Dad had been 20 something, and up a wooden pole installing cabling for the base’s radio station when all of a sudden the top of the pole above his head exploded – a bullet had gone into it, instead of his head. He let go of the pole and let his safety harness guide him down to the ground. He landed hard but he was alive. He reveled in telling the story that the positive in all this was having a very beautiful nurse pull out each of the splinters one-by-one from his chest and then rub healing ointment on it every day.

There’s something nice in knowing that at the end, it was two (lovely and blonde, surely?) nurses who were holding his hands in his hospital bed as he passed away. They had been wiping his head with a cool sponge, soothing his fever that had broken out just the day before. They knew his time to die was fast approaching. They held his hands and said reassuringly to him that everything is alright. That it is okay to let go. They knew, as I do, that he had had a full life. Challenging at times, scary at times, deathly frightening at moments, but full of a good measure of happiness too. A happiness he obtained through kindness and sharing with others: His blood, his skills, his humour, his gentle love.

We love you Grandpa!

He sometimes spoke to us of his childhood issues, of feelings of not quite measuring up to his father’s standards. I don’t know the whole story there I’m sure; and in a way that’s okay – I’m a dad myself now, and I know that I want the best for my kids, and I take care to not push them too hard, as he didn’t push me.

I couldn’t have wished for a better dad, or grandpa to my kids. He was a lovely man. A caring man. He was loved. He loved.

He will be missed. Greatly. I love you dad. We all love you.

We miss you.

• The Globe & Mail (Canada, 12 March 2013)
• Cambridge Times and Whitby This Week (Canada, 14 March 2013)
• The Times (UK, 14 March 2013))

BT sells Infinity, even to today, as having between 38 and 76Mbps speeds. Click for bigger picture.

I was one of the lead campaigners to bring BT Infinity to my lovely town of Whitchurch, Hampshire during the ‘Race to Infinity’ competition way back in the autumn of 2010. There were to be 10 rural towns in the UK to be upgraded first to fibre optic technology and its associated faster connection speeds to the Internet.

We won! It was a fantastic community-led campaign that introduced me to so many great people – see the campaign archive: click HERE.

Some people in town have now benefited from BT’s claimed 38 to 76Mbps connection speeds.

However, 3 years on from the win, and others are still waiting for the service to be installed. Ironically, those in the town centre are the most affected by the delays; as well as some of the rural villages neighouring our town. See the various stories on the town website for that — click HERE.

Then there is me…

BT OpenReach engineers install the FTTC fibre cabinet on London Street, Whitchurch, Hampshire in March 2012

GOLDILOCKS

Those of us who live in the ‘Goldilocks’ area – not too close to the town centre, and not too far away either – were able to place orders since May 2012.

My line was to be upgraded on 1 June 2012. Alas, my installation didn’t go well – 6, or was it 7?, visits by BT to try and get it working – and I was left with a very basic service in September. To their credit, BT offered a discount to entice me to stay with the service rather than going back to my previous ADSL connection.

Our house is apparently right at the end of a line that runs from the cabinet, up the main street, past a pub (surely that’s relevant?), around a corner and then up my street, with several cable splits/joins along the way.

I wrote a letter to the town’s website to let others know of my situation – see HERE.

A LOT LESS THAN PROMISED

BT tweets on 3 July 2012 that 15Mbps is the minimum speed for the Infinity product.

BT told me I should get 19.7Mbps download speed, and “up to” 2Mbps upload speed (for comparison, on their ADSL technology I had about 7Mbps download and 0.3Mbps upload).

After the installation in September, I was seeing 14.7Mbps – which is just under the 15Mbps that BT themselves told me was  their lower limit for the technology to be sold to customers. They claimed I was getting 15Mbps but I couldn’t see that because there was ‘overhead’. I presume they mean extra data exchanged on the line – or perhaps some small bit given over to BT FON.

FURTHER SLOW-DOWN

The official BT speed test of my service shows a very slow service indeed.

The connection speed has deteriorated significantly since its installation. Yesterday and today the download speed was under 10Mbps – it was 9.3Mbps Saturday evening, and now on Sunday morning it is at 9.5Mbps.

I have contacted BT Care but I hold out little hope of a massive improvement, though. To fix it right, they would need to relay the cabling along our road or install a cabinet closer. Ha! I asked for that last year and got nowhere.