Silicon Limey

Home from home

2011-12-17T00:00:00.000Z

Up at my sister’s at last, and it’s very nice. B is my only sibling and, if I’m honest, she’s the more responsible and thoughtful of us – as this visit is showing. Not to diss my other relatives, indeed Mum arrived shortly after I did, but B’s the example that makes me want to up my game.

Take the food for example. While I’ve missed some foods I haven’t been organized enough to get around to eating them – with some exceptions. I should have known what was up when B refused to say what the evening meal would be. When I found out it was haggis, with tatties and neeps, both I and my stomach wanted to hug her for her thoughtfulness. Then came the news that tomorrow it’s a full English for breakfast – my cup runneth over and my waistline may follow.

And what a meal it was. The haggis, lovingly encased in its stomach casing, came out of the oven where it had been baking for a little over an hour. A sharp slash released the spicy meat and grain filling and it was accompanied by the traditional potatoes and swedes, with cabbage on the side and a single malt to pour over the top.

I guzzled shamelessly, before we rolled into the sofa and off to bed. It’s good to be home.

Back to America

2011-12-15T23:57:00.000Z

The alarm went off at 6:30am, but I was up before that. I’d will not to submit to jetlag with naps in the afternoon, so it’s been four or five hours sleep for most nights. Still, it’s hard to get up when the bed is warm and the world is cold and dark.

The purpose of today is the renewal of my visa, and it means going to the fortress that is the US embassy in London’s Grosvenor Square – possibly the only diplomatic residence in London that has anti-tank barriers. An early morning appointment was picked, since the last time I was here it took nearly five hours of interviews and mental prodding to get my visa.

One of the most annoying things about the embassy is the lockdown security – understandable up to a point but a pain in the arse if you can’t have your phone or keys with you. Thankfully a nearby chemist has lockboxes to store your stuff, but if I can’t help feeling that the tight security when you enter should be enough. Thankfully the security staff are British, so you can have a chat with them about stuff while waiting.

Amazingly the whole thing went like clockwork – visa approved in an hour and a half and I was back on the street. There was nothing else to do but to get a fry up and then chill out for an hour or so until my next meeting. Someone has made the embassy seriously efficient, and they deserve thanks.

In the evening it was time for the old VNUnet team to get together around a table and chew the fat. Tremendous fun, but all conversation are officially off the record.

Get your Cheese on

2011-12-14T23:54:00.000Z

Many years ago, a PR by the name of Bill Moores came up with the idea of holding a Christmas party in one of London’s oldest pubs, the Cheshire Cheese on Fleet Street (the spiritual home of all British journalists) for a lunch, and then afternoon, of drinking and feasting.

Sadly Bill’s no longer running the party, but Sourcewire has carried on the tradition and it’s the place everyone in the tech press (and other areas) meets to drink, eat and catch up. It’s free beer and steak and kidney pie for a few hours, and then everyone spreads out and goes to other watering holes.

It’s my first one for three years and it was a joyful day to catch up with everyone again, to see some of the old faces and a few of the new ones. The beer may not be ideal (it is a Sam Smiths pub after all) but the atmosphere in the low-ceilinged pub is perfect – it’s one of the city’s oldest watering holes and it’s not hard to imagine Samuel Johnson, Tennyson or Conan Doyle sitting down for a pint and a chat (although not at the same time of course.)

There were some great writers at the annual meeting today, not on that level (at least outside our own heads,) but the conversation was interesting, it was great to see so many old friends and almost everyone came away from the meeting happier than at the start of the day – but only just.

As I staggered back to my bed, I couldn’t help feeling a little bit depressed. Three of the major technology publishers are holding redundancies and a lot of good hacks are either changing professions or facing a fight for the increasingly small freelance pie. I’d thought the bloodletting in the industry was dying away – it appears there is still some way to go.

A time to fly

2011-12-13T23:49:00.000Z

Landed at Heathrow after nine hours of flying. It’s difficult to get your head around the trip – less than 75 years ago it would have taken weeks of perilous rail and sea travel to make the same trip. And now the person sitting next to me is bitching because she’s ten minutes late on the landing…

Anyway, that said, the flight was well worth bitching about. I don’t know what’s gone wrong with Virgin Atlantic, but this’ll be the last ticket I book with them. This has to be the worst crossing I’ve had in the last decade, at least from a European airline – you expect lousy service and poor food from an American airline after all.

The staff themselves used to be the best in the industry, when it comes to engaging with customers and getting life’s little niggles sorted out. BA crew may be more professional, and I’d definitely prefer them in the event of an in-flight emergency, but Virgin crew manage to keep smiles on their faces and make the whole experience a little less wearing. Not so any more, and I can sort of understand why.

Virgin used to be known for their excellent aircraft and in-flight entertainment system, as well as a fun attitude. This time around the aircraft was, for the want of a better word, shabby. The seat cushions were worn and slightly dirty, the cabin walls chipped and stained and the handset controller was reaching the end of its lifespan – all cracked plastic and a headphone socket that provided stereo only if jiggled and held at an angle.

The company is clearly trying to skimp and save where possible. The meal was undoubtedly the worst I’ve had on a cross-Atlantic flight, worse even than Continental and that’s saying something. A small, limp salad with no dressing, a stale bread roll with no butter and the ‘beef, veg and mashed potato’ that tasted predigested and had been microwaved to death, with a thick, crusty scab of skin on top that was appealing as it sounds.

There was one drinks service, the only one during the entire flight, with staff administering homeopathic amounts of booze from larger bottles rather than the little ones you used to get. After a few hours I wandered down to the galley to see if I could get a scotch and was told they had run out, and the only dark spirits left for the economy section was a pint of brandy – a taste of which I declined. The staff did what they could, but were clearly turned off by the whole experience and having to apologise for their employer.

Got off the plane thankfully, got a SIM card and topped up my Oyster before heading into town. I’m staying with an old friend in South London, but stopped off for my first pint of Winter Warmer in two years. It was very good indeed, but went straight to my head and so I decamped to the house while I still could. Stayed up catching up until about 9pm when 30+ hours of sleep got the better of me and I passed out.

2011-09-28T15:48:00.000+01:00

Saw this on my way to work today, looks like the protests have come to San Francisco. Got to love the 'look at me!' cammo gear, very SF.

Back to the doctor

2011-09-27T15:46:00.001+01:00

Another week, another session with Dr. R the chiropractor.

My back eased up after the last visit but then progressively got worse, so another session was in order. I’m still not sure why this chap seems to feel the need to have his fingers in my mouth to reset my jaw, but it seems to help.

As for the ribs only time is going to sort that out. I’m still feeling like I’m being stabbed every time I sneeze or laugh, but it seems the floating rib cartilage has been damaged and the alignment is still wonky where two others meet the vertebrae. I was pushed, prodded and cracked and came away feeling a little better.

I booked in again for a session next week. Tuesday to Thursday will be a heavy conference, so I suspect I’ll need a tune up.

Little bit of politics

2011-09-26T15:42:00.000+01:00

It’s a measure of how long I’ve been over here that this clip had me quite shocked - not for the violence but for the criticism.

For the last week protestors have been holding a permanent encampment a few blocks down from Wall Street to protest about, amongst other things, the lack of financial regulation and the bailouts bankers have received. But you wouldn’t know it to watch the news.

There’s been a quiet media blackout over the story. I covered day two of the protest after it appeared Yahoo was blocking emails about it (turned out to be a dodgy spam filter) and noted in it that there had been four times the covered of Charlie Sheen’s latest shenanigans than of the protest. The police attack the clip shows garnered a whole four mentions on Fox (Faux) News that day – imagine what that figure would be if a Tea partier had ben maced on a peaceful demo.

For MSNBC to come out with criticism quite this strong is encouraging and I can only hope some of the other stations break their silence. The protestors may not be very organized (the daily camp policy meetings sound like hell on earth, and it already has set up a social committee) but they raise points which should be heard. This self-censorship over anything left wing in the media has got to stop.

Water baby

2011-09-25T15:40:00.000+01:00

M left early this morning for a four hour paddleboarding session. For someone who’s not spent much time on the water she’s taken to it like a duck to, well, you know what I mean.

I decided to have a lie in, but Boo wasn’t having any of it. I’d start dropping off and she’d either start licking my head or jumping on me playfully, usually dangerously close to the groin. After many failed attempts I gave in, administered an intensive belly rub and went to get a bowl of last night’s soup for breakfast.

M came back glowing from her session. I suspect I am to become a paddleboarding widower. The she went for a nap, since she’s out tonight for an evening with her first husband –techno. Claude Young was playing his first SF set in nearly a decade and it would have taken a small thermonuclear device to stop her. Since tomorrow is a work day I wasn’t going, but she had the day off and was intent of going sailing on Monday afternoon. At this rate she might even be teaching me in a few months.

Hangover and Indian

2011-09-24T15:37:00.001+01:00

Ouch, should never have had that brandy. Got up at 9am to teach down at the sailing club but got there and it was cold, misty, and my head was killing me. Called it a day very early and headed home, wanting tea, my bed and a good book.

However we are playing hosts tonight, as a friend is staying over and it’s as good excuse as any for a cooking session. I’ve never tried much Indian cooking but since our guest is a vegetarian it was a logical choice and a good excuse to learn. We did some recipes and settled on mulligatawny for the soup course, a lentil and spinach main course and curried chicken for the carnivores among us. M’s ex was also over – it might seem odd but we’ve become fast friends and he comes out with some genius conversation points.

Delia Smith’s mulligatawny recipe was examined and rejected for being too bland, but some on and offline research was done and we found something that was acceptable. A quick trip to the local market turned up everything apart from curry leaves, but we dispensed with those and the dishes still came out well. All in all it was a success, but we’re going to be eating leftovers for some time to come.

Leaving do

2011-09-23T15:32:00.001+01:00

Someone leaving the company can be a fraught experience. The best kind of leaving party is one where the person going isn’t well liked. It’s a pleasure to see them go, a good excuse for beers and gossip and as a bonus you don’t have to see their ugly mug around the office again. This was not one of those occasions.

M hired me to my current job and in the few months we’re been friendly he’s been encouraging and a great help in getting used to a new publication with a radically different house style. He’s got a dry wit, writes wickedly good headlines, thinks before he speaks and we’re all going to miss him in the office.

If M has one fault (at least to a British journalist) it’s that he doesn’t really drink that much. This is in many ways a blessing – drink is the curse of the journalist and we’re one of the highest rates of alcoholism of any profession. However, our quest for the night was to get him drunk (something I’ve never seen) and a couple of guys from the UK office had come over to see him off and get him lathered.

So we clocked off early and went to the House of Shields for cocktails before dinner – three hours before dinner to be exact. I do like a dry martini (gin not vodka, stirred not shaken) but since it was only 3pm I went a little easy on them. So too did M. After a couple we switched to beer and then headed off of an excellent dinner that I’d been looking forward to for culinary reasons.

For certain types of food SF has few equals. You can get sumptuous sushi, very good Vietnamese and there’s even a school of cooking dubbed California cuisine. In the latter case no-one’s really nailed what this is but the best I can see is that it’s like French provincial cooking but without the heavy, butter-laden sauces.

But this place had something I really wanted to try, and haven’t had for over three years – the Scotch egg. For those unfamiliar with this culinary delight it’s a hard-boiled egg encased in slightly spicy sausage meat, rolled in breadcrumbs and then deep fried. Many a post-booze up stomach has been settled by the application of these little balls of joy, and the restaurant is the first place I’ve seen in SF that actually serves them.

What came out of the kitchen wasn’t anything like the fat-laden creations I was used to. Instead the outer shell was made up of barbequed pork scraps, shaped around the egg before frying and there was nary a breadcrumb to be seen. Still and all it was delicious.

But M was still refusing to get drunk. By the end of the meal we’d sunk two bottle of wine between five of us, with a couple of hardy souls skipping desert in favour of a brandy. M, while noticeably more relaxed and ebullient, wasn’t exhibiting any of the behavior we’d been hoping for, but was having a whale of a time judging from his grin. We admitted defeat and headed home, but it was a great send-off.

Another visit

2011-09-20T06:49:00.001+01:00

Went to see a recommended chiropractor today – the ribs and back have been killing me and ibuprofen will only do so much.

Dr R came highly recommended but I’m a bit skeptical about chiropractors. However there was little choice; if I had my druthers I’d be in for an x-ray as soon as, but my health insurance doesn’t kick in until October so that would set me back a four figure sum. It’s nothing really – I’ve had rib damage before and there’s nothing you can do but grin and bear it – but any port in a storm.

I was rather impressed with the session. Dr R may look frail, but he managed to pick me up like a ragdoll and do several cracks which felt bad at the time, but have led to a noticeable improvement. We shall see how this develops.

Baker Beach

2011-09-19T06:46:00.001+01:00

The summer weather is holding and when M texted me to ask if I fancied going out to Baker Beach for the sunset.

Baker is one of the nicer beaches in San Francisco, albeit with a slightly odd crowd. The beach faces roughly west and has fine-grained sand, rather than the course stuff you find on Ocean Beach. It’s a steeply sloping shore, so surfers avoid it since by the time the wave rises it’s slamming you down onto hard sand, but it has one of the best views of the Golden Gate Bridge you’ll find.

The beach is in two unofficial parts. Most of it is a family place, but the far end is sort-of designated a nudist section. The local rangers patrol regularly and will stop anything too outrageous but for those that like the full sun experience it’s the spot to hang out.

M and I were staying clothed, but picked a spot midway along in the no-mans-land between the two. A brief paddle was enough to determine that this was not the time to reprise yesterday’s frolics and we just settled in and watched the sun sink below the horizon. The picture doesn’t catch the half of it; say what you like about pollution but it does make for a pretty light show while it’s killing us.

Polar bear club

2011-09-18T06:41:00.004+01:00

One of the great lies of this state is the California beach movie. The water off SF is frigid, colder than the UK thanks to a current bringing Arctic water down from Alaska, and swimming off the coast is almost guaranteed to bring hypothermia and bollocks that resemble half a walnut.

Nevertheless the sun was out and the beach called. We drove up to Stinson Beach (see photo) for some sun time and maybe a bit of swimming. The road there is one I’d like to drive in an MX-5 without a passenger – twisty, turny and with a sharp drop off to get the adrenaline going – but as chauffeur I took it calmly.

We got to the beach and enjoyed the sun for a while, then M announced she was going swimming. She loves the water and will spend hours in it. This love outweighs the fact it was bloody freezing, and she frolicked happily while I dozed in the sun. Then she came out and it was time to prove my manhood by going for a swim too. I was not looking forward to this.

I’m haunted by a horribly accurate routine Billy Connelly used to do about swimming in the North Sea, which is basically the Arctic Ocean by another name. You get in as far as you can but the worst moment is when it reaches groin height. You either get a slap of a wave to the happy sacks, or even worse it just rolls up your thigh and kisses the underside, leading to a tiptoe provoking wave of cold. But my woman had gone first – how could I back out. Besides, I promised myself I’d swim in the Pacific and now was the time.

The key to these things is getting it over with quickly. Wade in to sufficient depth and then just dive in and break the curse. Once you’re wet all over there’s nothing left to fear. Except the jellyfish, and the sharks. Thankfully there were few jellies around and they weren’t the stinging kind, and shark fins were nowhere to be seen.

The jellies were a bit of an issue – the mouth remained firmly closed and I blew air out of my nostrils when diving. I still have a nightmare or two about ingesting one of those buggers. Sadly jellies are becoming all the more common. Their natural predators, turtles and sunfish, have been decimated and now they are multiplying like rats.

So I did my swim, which wasn’t exactly enjoyable but refreshing at least. M went back in and stayed for half an hour, a fit of superhuman cold control considering how she complains about the temperature of the summers. We’re both water people, but I’m not a polar bear.

Birthday

2011-09-17T06:36:00.000+01:00

No, not mine. M celebrated another click on the age clock with good grace, and I suspect appreciated the card, but the day was full. As I’ve already mentioned she’s keen on sailing so at 9am we were off to the club – her for a lesson and me to see what I could do with busted ribs. Even raising my elbow above the shoulder is painful at the moment, so hauling sheets is out of the question.

As it turned out she got not one but two lessons in, and I filled in the time doing a shore class for the newbies. This involved explaining how a boat worked, the points of sailing and some tips and tricks for getting on in the club. One bonus was that all the students were keen and eager to learn, and I raised some smiles explaining how things worked. After the lesson I dealt with some individual questions, gave a little (hopefully good) advice and then found the day leader and offered to do dogsbody work.

As it turns out the commodore (or Her Grand Fluffiness as she prefers to be called) needed a hand marking up and sorting some new foul weather gear so we spent a happy couple of hours deciding what to keep and what to chuck. A huge shout out to West Marine (the go-to place for Bay sailing supplies) for giving us a massive discount on foul weather gear. It’s thanks to policies like that which keep the sailing club going, and it’s why I buy most of my sailing gear from there.

M came back from her second sailing lesson with a huge grin on her face and a walk that suggested some serious hiking out and high speed sailing. The wind had picked up and she and her instructor had been scudding over the waves. It’s a joy to see someone when they’ve had the sailing rush and it’s really kicked in.

After the lessons we headed home for brunch (scrambled eggs and smoked salmon) and cava mimosas - although as designated driver I stopped after one. Then we headed into the city for dinner with a good friend and then home for an earlyish night in, we are getting on after all :)

Heading home

2011-09-14T06:32:00.001+01:00

The conference is done, my stories filed and it’s time to head home. I couldn’t wait. LA is a pimple of Satan’s backside and I was desperate to come home to SF’s cool climate and sensible layout.

Had a wonderful moment in the bar at the airport. Was hammering out a last piece about the show when a chap sat down next to me and we got chatting. Turns out he’s a senior Microsoft type who’d popped over for BUILD, so we got talking about the industry, the vagaries of business travel and (since he clocked my accent and had stayed in the UK) the improvements in British food.

It took a while before we got to talking about what we did, and after he told me his profession I waited until he’d swallowed his drink before telling him mine – covering his company for one of the more blunt titles in the business. Microsoft doesn’t particularly like my current employer, and with good reason since we hold its feet to the fire when necessary. As RJ used to say “Journalism is what someone doesn’t want to read in the morning, everything else is advertising.”

To his credit this chap took it in his stride and we carried on talking – off the record of course. Bar conversations in my book are almost always off the record, and it would be a cold-hearted shit who took advantage of such a situation - especially since he didn’t know what I did. Instead we had a refreshingly honest conversation and I came away from it with a better appreciation of how Redmond is thinking and some interesting views on Microsoft’s plans in the application field, as well as some useful travel tips for dealing with Asian airports.

The flight was delayed and it was past 10pm when I finally got home. M had prepared a lentil soup for me on my return, but I was too tired to eat and just happy to snuggle up with my sweetie and have a cat resting against my head. It’s good to be home.

Public transit in Hell A

2011-09-12T06:26:00.004+01:00

Microsoft decided to hold the BUILD conference in Disneyland in Anaheim. The last time I was in Team Rodent territory (Carl Haissen’s choice term) was 1994, and I’d never got there from the airport.

It turns out if you’re going to go to Disneyland then you should fly into John Wayne airport, not LAX. It’s a hundred dollar cab ride from LA’s main airport to the rodent capital and I didn’t think the expense people would handle it, so I decided to go via public transport. Wrong choice as it turns out but an interesting trip nonetheless.

Travelling via public transport in LA is like wearing clothes at a nudist jamboree – it’s just not done. As it turns out a $5 day transit pass got me to the hotel with no problems at all, except the 2.5 hours it took to get there. I could have shaved an hour off the time by taking a cab but it was interesting to see how LA public transportation worked.

The city used to have one of the best public transit systems in the world, with trams and buses that ferried inhabitants quickly and cheaply across the city. LA is a huge sprawling place – the city just expanded to fill space, since it’s built on a desert, and transport is key. The after the Second World War a consortium, including oil firms, car companies and Goodyear, bought the public transport network and then shut it down. Car ownership rocketed, but anyone without the funds or inclination was screwed.

As it turns out the transit was fairly smooth. The train from LAX was fast, clean and not too crowded and the bus, while slow and late, proved adequate. The only problem was the time it took, but I’d charged my phone on the flight (Virgin America has plugs under every seat) and so had enough juice to enable ebook reading without having to manage runtime too carefully. If I lived in this city I’d have to have a car, but then again nothing on earth could persuade me to live in LA.

Injury time

2011-09-11T06:22:00.000+01:00

OK, the pain hasn’t gone away so it’s time for some help. M found me a good chiropractor (if there is such a thing – I have my doubts) and we went to see him. Got a back crack that seemed to help and he recommended a couple of day’s bed rest. Fat chance with the BUILD conference coming up.

While Monica was getting her shoulder seen to I popped across the street to pick up some supplies. We needed clam juice for a Portuguese fish stew I’ve been planning and Andronicos, a local supermarket chain, looked to be the place to find it. Sadly, the holding company had just signed up for Chapter 11 bankruptcy and the store was ¾ empty and full of depressing notes thanking us for our business. Andronicos is a good chain, and stays open later than most – it’s sad to see it fall beneath the Whole Foods/Berkeley Bowl/Trader Joes juggernaut.

The back work helped somewhat, and the fish stew worked very well, although a bit more chili would have given it more bite. Tomorrow I fly to LA and face conference food, so it was good to have a home cooked meal before I go.

Luxury

2011-09-10T20:01:00.001+01:00

If you’re wondering why I’m exceeding my two stories a week target it’s because I’m flying, and there’s very little to do on an aircraft for a couple of hours. I decided to treat myself to an upgrade on the flight back - $39 gets you a nice seat, much more leg room, free food and drink and an exit row position – so in the event of a crash you get out first.

In the latter case I know enough about aircraft to realize it’s going to be of very little help in the event oof disaster. Modern planes are incredibly hardy and seldom suffer major failure, and slide evacuation is seldom more than a fast way of clearing a lightly damaged plane. Useful in the Hudson crash however. If you do have a massive loss of cabin pressure or a reduction in the number of wings you’re screwed anyway, so no sense in worrying about it.

However I wanted the luxury as my back is killing me and I need some pampering. I’m so looking forward to getting back to home and M, and a long lie in in our own bed. It’s been a grueling week, and next week is going to be even worse. A trip to Los Angeles, my second least favourite city in the US, is on the cards and I suspect that while there will be some fun times it’s going to be a tough one.

Chain

2011-09-09T19:37:00.005+01:00

Anyone who grew up with the BBC’s coverage of Formula One (or who watches it now) will understand the title. The end section of Fleetwood Mac’s classic track was/is the theme of the BBC coverage (don't they all look young) and even now I have to turn it off if I’m in a car, otherwise I’ll start reflexively mashing the accelerator and cutting across the apex of corners.

The briefings are over – two days packed with intensive information, Q&A’s, and getting up close and personal with new code. While it’s what I enjoy doing for a living, man cannot live on work alone and it was time for some fun. Tonight we headed off to a go-kart track, one of my favourite ways spend a few hours. I know, a Formula One nut who’s into karting, what are the odds?

Unusually the karts were electric, a first for me. Usually a kart is petrol-powered, which makes them deliciously noisy but also a tad dangerous. The engines get very hot, and you have to wear flameproof overalls that get very sweaty. The electric carts had slightly less appeal for a petrol-head, but they were still a lot of fun, at first.

After a few practice laps the 20 racers qualified by means of a fastest lap time. I was on form, coming in second, around three tenths of a second behind the fastest chap on the track. We compared notes, shook hands over an agreement not to take each other out and then headed down to the grid. As we waited for the green flag I was humming ‘Chain’ to myself. If I could have managed it I’d have had earphones in, playing that, then ‘Temple of Love’ by the Sisters of Mercy and then AC/DC’s ‘You shook me all night long’ – three tracks guaranteed to have me going flat out and laying rubber.

The flag came down and we took off like rockets, albeit quiet ones. I realized almost immediately something was wrong – either I had no grip on this machine or it was going a lot faster than before. In the previous races I’d worked out a route that required no braking, just easing up on the throttle and one diamond turn to bleed off speed in the chicane.

That didn’t work now and on the third corner I overcooked it badly, went sideways into the barrier at around 25mph and hit hard – lateral impacts are no fun when you’ve just wearing a three point harness. I lost a place in the move and the right side of my back was on fire, but I managed to hold position and begin to reel in the number two driver, but couldn’t get past him or force an error, so finished in third.

I asked one of the organizers about it, who confirmed they’d increased the speed of the karts without telling anyone – a dick move that’s really dangerous. I wasn’t the only one damaged, two other people had had similar offs and one had broken his nose.

To add insult to injury when the race was over a computer error had me one lap down and in last place, apparently since the start of the race. Since they were already handing out medals I didn’t make a fuss – no-one wants to look like a sore loser – but it cast a pall over the night. I salved my aching back by writing a scorching Yelp review of the track’s activities.

I suppose I might have a cause against the firm – this is the land of the lawsuit after all – but we all signed waivers before racing. I suspect they are packed full of legal boilerplate that makes Microsoft’s NDA look like a pinky pledge and besides, those ambulance chasers need less work.

Among the Microserfs

2011-09-08T19:13:00.003+01:00

Part of my job is covering Microsoft and it was time to go up and see them to chat and look at some new software. Sure, the third day on the job could be construed as hitting the ground running but there was a specific piece of software that needed reviewing and so I’ve come up to Seattle for two days of intensive briefings.

I can’t say about what we saw or met - even the choice of tea available must remain a closely guarded secret - because Microsoft made us all sign non-disclosure agreements (NDAs) that were so comprehensive we might as well have been gagged. Even internet access inside the briefing room was banned, leading to a roomful of hacks jonesing to check their inboxes on a work day. Those with personal modems shared their passwords and a practical working environment established.

Thankfully NDAs are less common than they were (and illegal in Germany I learned) but many companies still rely on them too much. Most are just agreements not to publish certain information before a set date, but some are byzantine legal documents that could be used to sue a company into the Stone Age. One friend in the business is still technically liable for prosecution if he breathes a word of one 1999 product launch.

That’s not the problem however – it’s the lack of trust. In my entire career I’ve never broken an embargo agreement and having to sign something like this is a company saying “We don’t trust you to be professional.” It didn’t help that the team opened the presentation by threatening “serious consequences” if we broke them. It put a very unpleasant spin on the morning, and I know I wasn’t alone in feeling this.

However, you couldn’t stay annoyed for long. The briefings (all nine hours of them on day one, with a prompt 8:30am start) were fascinating and the spokespeople generally made a genuine attempt to deal with questions, although obviously there’s some stuff that’s never going to get answered. There were a few fudges and slips, traditional at any demo, but overall it was a really interesting day, albeit with a few too many acronyms.

The other reason for the lifting of spirits was the weather. I have never visited Seattle and not been rained on, in nearly a decade of visits. This time around the air was balmy, the sun shining and all was well in the world. The Pacific Northwest is a beautiful, green landscape full of trees, distant mountains and postcard-quality waterfront. Even Microsoft’s sprawling campus is rather pretty – eschewing the dominating architecture of Oracle’s Borg-like complex or Facebook’s rather scruffy offices.

At the end of the day we all went out to dinner and ended up closing down the restaurant. That might sound impressive/worrying but people go to bed early here. The last call was 9:30pm, and the staff started flicking the lights half an hour later. God knows what Spanish or Italian visitors make of the place – 10pm is the pre-meal hour in those cultures. What on earth do people do here at night?

Back in the saddle again

2011-09-06T19:07:00.002+01:00

The alarm went off at 6:45am this morning, which is never the most pleasant start to the working week. That’s what this week is – my first back at work after over a month off. It’s time to start earning my keep again and I’ve been looking forward to this, just not the alarm call.

It’s been a frustrating month to take off. Normally August is dead for news but in the space of four weeks Steve Jobs has resigned, Google’s seemingly gone mad and bought Motorola and there have been a host of other stories that have had my fingers itching to hit a keyboard. It’s going to be good to get back into the swing of things.

That said it’s always a little scary. What if I’ve forgotten how to do it, or if the stories are crap, or if I’m just not good enough? I know in my heart that these are foolish concerns, but the black dog that prowls the back of my central cortex still barks from time to time and he’s a persistent beast. One day I’ll get him put down, but he’s an elusive wraith and slips his muzzle once in a blue moon.

As it turns out he was back in the doghouse pretty early on. Once I’d got a cup of tea in me, found out where the kitchen and toilet was and settled down to build a newslist it all came back, as 20 years of training kicked in. Hammered out a few stories, got to know everyone a little better and before I knew it the day was done. I suspect I’m going to like this job a lot – it’s a good crew in the office and the editorial style is nice and snarky.

In the evening there was another treat, as an old friend was in town for a catch-up. He and his wife are doing a road trip down the West Coast and we went out for a drink, an excellent Chinese at the House of Nanking (yes, it’s a tourist trap but it’s one of the few good places to eat in Chinatown proper) and then a few more drinks for the road. S has been working in the Middle East for the last four years and needed to make up for lost time – or at least it’s as good an excuse as any.

A mountain to climb

2011-09-05T12:59:00.009+01:00

If a long inactive RSS feed has just pinged to life it’s not a fake, I’m actually going to start writing this thing again.

The reasons for reactivating the blog are many and complex. I dropped it primarily because there was just too much work. For the last three years I’ve been doing four stories a day, and around 3,000 words of Top 10 lists on Fridays. It’s work I love and do gladly, but it takes time. Coming home and writing up the day became less important, and there was a city and its people to explore.

That said, looking back over past posts, my interest in the blog declined rapidly after getting into a relationship. I didn’t write about it initially, because it’s a private matter. I may be a full disclosure person in much of life but some things are not for discussion without consent. That’s not in any way to blame M, but let’s be honest – faced with the choice of hammering a keyboard or snuggling up on a sofa which would you choose?

Why then is it restarting? Well, the primary driver was the so-called Hurricane Irene. A good friend, and former editor of the year (she knows who she is) has been prodding me to get this done. Certain relatives too have complained at being out of touch. But there was also the slightly annoying feeling of knowing something would make a good blog, and not doing it was grating.

So, it's time to get this thing back online. Two years of backdated stuff to fill in and I’ve got the digital equivalent of a handful of Post-it notes to work from, so there will be huge gaps. Thankfully the last month has given me some time to get back into the swing of things, so this first batch will be 5,000 words - enough to be going along with.

Backdated posts will be added later headed BP, but there’s a lot of notes to write up, spread over four current and ex-computers and a bag full of USB sticks. I’ll post updates on those periodically as time allows, and when I find them.

The full story of the last couple of years involves a death, a marriage, two new jobs and a life turned upside down. Think of it as the Archer’s 60th anniversary edition, without an agricultural story editor.

Back on the water

2011-09-04T23:55:00.000+01:00

We’d planned to do a Saturday session down at the sailing club but post-holiday lag had set in and M was still looking peaky.

Instead we headed down today. It’s an Open Day, which means anyone can come along and ride for free on either a 25 foot keelboat or a dinghy, if they don’t mind getting wet. We popped along for the last hour to help fetch and carry, although M managed to score a one on one lesson to get her back into the swing of things.

Then we helped crew one of the keelboats back to the marina. It was a nice 45 minute trip back to dock, and we had a few extra people on board as ballast. Lovely to get back on the water again and taste the salt. The keelboats can handle the wind just fine and move like an oversized dinghy. We stowed everything away and wandered back for a quick socialise and then an early night. Thank goodness for Labour Day.

Urgh

2011-08-31T23:57:00.001+01:00

OK, jetlag is a bit strong but we’ve both been at somewhat of a low ebb. The last few weeks have been a tad wearing and it’s time for some R&R as I get set for next week.

There are also two new laptops to get up and running - 10 minutes to start and a few hours apiece to get them into usable machines. And before you say anything no I wouldn’t like to have nice Mr Jobs sort all that out for me.

Homeward bound

2011-08-29T00:02:00.000+01:00

According to Delta’s twitter feed we were good to go this afternoon, so bade farewell to our hosts and had lunch with R, who gave us a lift to the airport. It was our third trip to LIC Market, highly recommended.

The flight back was long but untroubled, but we got back to find the housesitter had left the place in a terrible state. She’s taken moving in a bit seriously, there were some breakages and a strange stain on the bath. On the plus side Boo was happy to see us and is sticking close.

There was also apparently another earthquake just off SF, but at this point I’m too tired to think straight.

The day after

2011-08-28T00:05:00.006+01:00

Got up around 9am and was distinctly unimpressed. The weather was windy with a light sprinkling of rain. After tea we all went down to the river for a walk and despite a few broken trees and the odd band of rain the scene was no worse than a wet weekend in Bognor.

The police kept us away from the river, but we had a look around. A few underground car parks were flooded, but slowly enough to allow the cars to be moved. The local Irish pub had closed, but a cafe was still open so we popped in for eggs Benedict and a cup of tea. It was midday by the time we got back but there was nothing to do.

I will confess to some bitching about this, after all that fuss for nothing. Friends pointed out that the death count was in double figures, large chunks of the state were underwater (not M’s parents thank goodness,) and silence was golden. Good advice, we got lucky and the flooding was extensive. Long Beach Island got away with minor damage it seems.

M and I walked over the bridge to Brooklyn for a wander around. The wind was strong but warm, and long strings of clouds were scudding across the skyline in slow formations. Shops and restaurants were open and largish groups of people were just strolling in that “I’ve got to get outdoors” way.

We wandered back over to Long Island City and went down to the waterfront, chatting to people as we went. Lots of people were about, and most were in a talkative and friendly mood. The above picture came from my phone (that's M in the lower right corner) from Gantry Park.
Maybe I was wrong about New York - it’s a very easy place to love at times like this.

Everybody panic!

2011-08-27T00:13:00.004+01:00

A very strange non-day really, we were in hunker-down mode - not that travel was much of an option. The subway was being shut down at midday and power could go as well in lower Manhattan and be off for days.

First things first, get supplies - both internal and external. Brunch at a local place on Long Island City was essential survival food - meaty corned beef hash, with eggs, toast and jam, with a Bloody Mary because who knew when we might taste uncontaminated tomato juice again. As good an excuse as any.

The off to the local health food shop for some supplies. The queue outside the local Trader Joe’s was two blocks long and the situation similar at the competition. While D&D have a week’s worth of food (and a fortnight’s of beer) in the fridge there was comfort food to buy. We decamped to the local health food store and stocked up on crisps, fruit and the occasional chocolaty morsel or five.

Business was brisk, but not insane - no fights over the last soy milk carton or handful of cilantro. M received a little taunting over a couple of tins of sardines, but I got the same for a highly nutritious, if massive, bag of BBQ crisps.

On the TV New Jersey’s governor and Mayor Bloomberg were now up to three press conferences a day. The eye of the storm is expected to pass a few miles east of New York at 8am Sunday, but it’s slow and carrying a lot of water. High tide is also around that time and the storm surge could be large. We’re in zone two of the flooding area, a couple of blocks clear of the mandatory evacuation zone.

Today the final Top 10 also got posted - end of an era for N and I. The Top 10 started as a vague idea and sort of grew out of control. I think we hit 6,000 words on one and the banter during the decision making process for the final list always made me grin. N has surprising reservoirs of knowledge in unlikely areas and argues his case well. It was a bit emotional to see the last one live.

The first bands of rain started to come in around 4pm and lasted for less than half an hour initially, but then increased in frequency. The wind started to really kick in around 7pm but the floor-to-ceiling windows were holding up fine. We had dinner and drinks, then played rummy while the TV was on silent in the background. At this point there was very little else to do. Shops were boarded up, and while a few bars were open, getting there would have required a soaking. The waves of rain were just pounding down at a 40 degree angle, but at least it was warm and didn’t feel too bad.

Much wine and beer was drunk, as M & D tussled for the lead, with myself bringing up the last place spot. Finally we called it a night around 11pm, filled the bath with water in case power went out so we could flush the loo, and retired to bed. The city was quiet, apart from the occasional car and the odd muted police siren telling people to get off the streets. We checked we knew where our documents were and went to sleep

Escape to New York

2011-08-26T23:53:00.002+01:00

OK, we’ve heading back to New York, and the comparative safety of the city. We’ll be close to the airport if the storm is overblown (sorry, couldn’t resist with that or the picture) and I’d rather be in the city if disaster does hit because the apartment is well-situated and there’s good looting opportunities.

The drive back up was none too difficult, a bit of extra traffic but all road tolls were excused and traffic flowed well. We had one thing to do on the way – lunch with an old friend named B. We’d met in Malaysia at an aviation conference in 1998, when I was editing a newsletter on aviation IT (not as dull as it sounds). A few minutes after meeting a very bad local karaoke band had started a pidgin version of a Spice Girls track and neither of us cold suppress giggles.

We’ve been good friends ever since; I spent a memorable first US Thanksgiving with her family and she and some of the family stayed with me in London when visiting. B specialises in family travel, my idea of hell, and is one of a new breed of travel agents that got in early online. Thanks to her I was able to navigate the very murky world of early online booking systems and score some great deals.

Few people under 30 get what a hassle it was getting abroad in the days before online. You had to physically go to a shop in order to not only purchase tickets, but then also to pick them up. The whole system of flight booking depended on a massive early computer system - SABRE (Semi-Automatic Business-Related Environment). This was one of the first computer booking systems, set up as an IBM spin-off and by 1976 allowed travel agents the then-magical ability to book flights nearly instantaneously.

It was a very profitable business, but the internet cut a huge segment out of it, as it has with a lot of industries including mine. B got into the internet early and now works from home - and occasionally from a cruise ship, beach resort or Peruvian mountain - setting up holidays for families with children, and more importantly sorting out problems when they occur.

Anyway, we hadn’t actually seen each other in years, and a 1:30pm lunch stretched into 5pm, at which point the waiters were getting restive and a second portion of pudding increasingly attractive. We said a fond farewell and parted ways.

We had planned to go up north for an hour and see M’s old home town, but the second we got onto the freeway traffic was nearly static. Lots of commuters - it was Friday afternoon - but a lot of very stuffed cars too, and not everyone heads to the country for the weekend with that many supplies.

We stopped off for water, a torch and a few essentials before heading back to D&D’s place, dropping the car off as we went. According to a policeman in a bar we stopped in they were expecting flooding not too serious. We shall see.

More natural disasters

2011-08-25T07:44:00.003+01:00

OK, I'm starting to get a little freaked now. Hurricane Irene, a category two hurricane in the West Indies, looks set to swing up the eastern seaboard and land directly on New Jersey and New York on Sunday.

We've spent the night photographing the family's possessions and making sure that all important documents are secure. For all the e-commerce in the world insurance companies aren't going to be impressed with a printout alone. M's folks are already stocked up on food, water and medicine, and have an impressive larder, although if the power goes out there will be some frenzied cooking of frozen stuff.

The news channels are full of nothing else and we check in periodically for updates. Some of the news was a tad alarmist. Someone on the TV advised people to write their name, social security number and date of birth on a piece of paper, wrap in plastic and put it in their left shoe and lace it up. There's something to induce panic, and for no good reason.

M's parents are being very nice about it but I suspect they might have reason to regard me as something of a natural jinx. The last time I was here at Christmas we had a massive snow storm that dumped 26 inches of snow in 24 hours, snowing us in for two days. So far on this visit we've had an earthquake and now a hurricane.

Heaven only knows what's going to happen when I come next time – a rain of frogs, multiple lightning strikes or a small volcano no doubt. Personally I'm hoping for slow zombies. Everyone's being very nice about things, but I suspect 200 years ago I'd be hauled out and burnt as one of Satan's imps for this run of bad luck :) Thank goodness for progress.

Earthquake redux

2011-08-24T07:42:00.003+01:00

OK, not content with yesterday's earthquake the forces of nature have given us another one – not here thank goodness but back at home in the Bay area.

There was force 3.5 in Oakland this morning. Apparently it's not too severe, but the housesitter informs us Boo was a little freaked and got very clingy. Given she usually sits on my head at night the little mite must have grafted herself to our friend. Poor little devil, looking forward to seeing her again.

Earthquake!

2011-08-23T07:41:00.004+01:00

I've been living in California for over three years now and I've never felt an earthquake. There have been a couple but I've always been somewhere else. Now I come to New Jersey and feel one within days.

It was around 2pm when we got to the beach and set up the deck chairs and umbrella before anointing ourselves with sunscreen and settling down for a quick picnic before going for a swim. As I sat down the chair I noticed it was rocking. M remarked on it as well, and we agreed it was probably just the wind. But the rocking didn't stop, in fact it intensified, before dropping away after about ten seconds.

A minute or so later someone in the group next to us started to talk about a tremor, so M popped over to have a chat. Turns out the wind wasn't that strong; instead a 5.8 quake had hit Virginia and we'd felt it a few hundred miles away. It turns out the plate that makes up part of the East Coast is fairly solid and unbroken, so seismic shock carries further than on the West coast, where the plate is more broken up.

It's my first US earthquake (I've felt one in the UK) and was exciting, and a little worrying. We shall see what the rest of the week brings...

The end of the affair

2011-08-21T07:38:00.004+01:00

Having very mixed feelings about New York – it hasn't changed, but I have and no longer feel the same way about a city that has been a passion of mine for a while.

When I first envisaged moving to the US, New York was top of my choices of places to work. There's an undeniable energy that comes from cramming seven million people into a tiny space, adding a dose of capitalism and pressing the fast-forward button on social evolution. It's a place where you can get almost anything you want whenever you want it, where the poshest shops share a street with scuzzy corner stores and it'll always be the the best place in the world for bagels and pizza.

But New York no longer has the same hold on me that once it had. I first came in 1999 and was entranced, and the city pulled me back again and again. It has a buzz like no other place, I've laughed, cried, loved and lost here and regret nothing, well, maybe one or two things but you know what I mean.

Maybe it was the oppressive heat and humidity, or the rudeness of people, or simply the fact that I've got older and softer, but I'm no longer so besotted with the place. M summed it up best - it's kind of like a relationship that once burned hot and hard, and has now mellowed into a sort of friends-with-benefits deal. I'll always be fond of the place, but now it's somewhere you visit, have a good time and then wave goodbye to. Northern California has won my heart now, although I'll always love the green rolling hills of Derbyshire.

Absolutely fabulous

2011-08-18T07:39:00.003+01:00

Met up with some of my favourite people in the city, and we set up to paint the town red.

The evening started with drinks in a cocktail bar on 57th avenue, before moving on for beers and burgers at a nearby joint. Lovely to meet up with T and A again – both of whom look fabulous. Another old friend, who I hadn't seen in over seven years (god I'm old), although I nearly didn't recognise her. Good to see that some of us get better looking with age :)

Drinks turned into more drinks, then burgers and a stagger through the city trying to find somewhere with aircon. I am coming to the conclusion the British lost the war of independence after one too many New York summers.