The commute

Christmas day 2

Warhol's posthumous collection

Yours for $1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000.39c

Can it be so?

I have just discovered that I can email posts to this blog. Can I really add random thoughts from wherever I am through this ingenious technological prestidigitation? If so, stand by for a triumph of quantity and regularity over quality. Missives from the supermarket, out on a run, on the train, on hols. You have been warned.

That's m'boy

From the Ark

Oh the weather! If Australia could have an hour of what we've had in the last week or so, they'd be sated. It is unbelievably wet, which is no doubt (a) bad for campers, (b) good for hoteliers, (c) bad for domestic harmony, (d) good for retailers, (e) bad for camels, (f) good for fish, (g) bad for outdoor origami classes, (h) good for frogs, (i) bad for dry t-shirt competitions and (j) good for the global umbrella industry. Here in sodden (ing) St Albans, we're resorting to comfort eating (roast chicken), log fires, catching up on mountains of admin, sctraching our heads for strategies to ease 12yo boredom and dreaming of comfortable sofa, sherry in hand, in front of the tele. The garden is plush, the branches buckling, the cat like a flannel (I've said that before) and global HQ dark and a bit chilly. I'll know to light the stove tomorrow - it's a bit late now. I turn 44 tomorrow (yikes) - nothing much planned - it's too wet and anyway, what's in a number? Making good headway with the website, which should be up and running by the end of the week. Almost into the last month before launch. Blimey.

Time enough

Too long since I popped a few words down. It has been a rather pleasant week, really, though I find myself betwixt and between with this whole business of going it alone weighing rather heavily. It has been a bit odd resigning but feeling that I can't really wind down because on June 30th I leave and on July 1st I become a consultant, which means best behaviour rules.

I've been burning the midnight oil getting the website done, and it still isn't there, but on the way. To my amusement, my small enterprise made the business pages of the Star, no less. I didn't know that the star do business pages, but they patently do, and I'll weave that in to the self-deprecating sales pitch.

Have greatly enjoyed some twittering with RCJ, TopDoc and Clackster this week. Those unfamilar with Twittering will find it at www.twitter.com and will find RCJ's account of it at http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/technology/6690569.stm.

Weekend ahead is rather job laden. I turn 44 on Tuesday. Between then, I have to fulfil my promise to see Spiderman 3 with J (no chore), mow the lawn (again), set up the gargantuan printer in global HQ, write up my very interesting survey of retail analysts, hang out a bit with my lovely 14yo daughter I (who, incidentally this week became taller than P).

Have vowed to read a little more this weekend - get back into the Lay of the Land by my hero R Ford; and to do a few more miles (avoiding town on a busy Saturday). Will try again a bit harder over the weekend to add a bit more with a bit more colour.

Italy 3: Renaissance Lego set no. 1

Italy 2: She smiles, oh yes, she smiles...

Holiday reflection

Whirlwind

2007 has been marked already by unparalleled dizziness and familial tragedy. My father-in-law, RO, died after a short, steep illness that was draped over the complications of Parkinson's disease, with which he had contended for some years.

I remembered just after I had heard that R had died, that my art teacher at school had once explained to me that sometimes the best way of catching the likeness of someone was to draw the space around him. I think that memory came into my head because my sense is that the space around R those last difficult weeks had been brimming with love and unconditional affection which, while perhaps a little obtuse as an observation, encompassed anything I could say. I’ll miss his gentle hand on the rudder enormously and I’m very sorry.

Meanwhile, things rumble on. With P away, we started to see the odd hairline crack form in domestic standards at Dadville and there were some hasty repairs to ensure that P wasn't too disheartened by our lower standards on her return. I think that the location of crisp crumbs is a decent guide to the state of things and from my chair, as I fretted about the state of things, I could see evidence of Pringle remnants on the upstairs landing, which was a little disturbing. I didn't venture into I’s room for some days, but I was mildly amused to hear her complain about the stench of stockpiled dirty clothes in the washing basket OUTSIDE her room. I suspect it’s the absence of her hair straighteners (which had packed up) which would previously have masked the mediaeval aromas that circulate in there.

J fluctuated between alien battles on the telly, smackdown wrestling games (don’t ask), drumming practice, the odd bit of make believe in the garden and general chit chat – mostly challenging questions about nuclear reactors, which I had a go at answering, but I think they’re mostly ill-informed guesses, which gets me worried because he says “thanks Dad, I’ve learnt more in the last ten minutes than I have in a term in science at school.” Well, maybe guesses are OK – I’ve made a living out of them for years.

Rest in peace, RO.