« June 2006 | Main | August 2006 »
I can’t believe the change in the weather. Dark, cold and wet tonight, for the first time in ages I was sitting inside with the TV on.
Luckily James had lent me some DVDs to watch so I had something to do and settled down to watch City of God.
What can I say, simply stunning…
Today I needed to be near the sea even more.
With Martin and the kids having a free day we all got into the Alfa and headed to the coast to watch the yachts racing in Cowes Week and explore the foreshore.
It was hot but breezy as we wandered along looking for stones to skim and shells to collect. I’m always amazed at the feeling of being at sea as you walk out on the narrow gravel spit half way around the bay. The water surrounds you and the Isle of Wight is so close you feel more in the middle of the sea than on a thin finger of the land.
There were loads of people taking pictures of the ships so for once, despite having the large paparazzi style lens on, no one asked me if I was from the press or what I was taking pictures of.
We happily walked along to explore the slowly decaying remains of where the Mulberry Harbours were manufactured before being towed across the Channel on D Day, trying to guess what the remains of concrete and brick may have been and how it appeared all those years ago.
Standing watching the ferries entering and leaving Cowes harbour my mind drifted back to when I was Richard’s age and summer holidays always meant a trip to the sea and I felt all the stress of work slowly ebb away. Why does the sea always do to this to me ? Is it as simple as a day skipping stones over the waves ?
There was no doubt that after a long walk and sea air we were all hungry and ice cream wasn’t the thing to have, despite the call of the van near the swings. I didn’t want to leave sea or the sun so we decided to head around the coast to Oyster Bay to eat.
Luckily there was a place on the terrace so we could sit, eat, watch the boats and listen to the wind whistling through the rigging then stand at the harbour side and dream of life with a boat…
“Look at that hen party, she’s dressed as a bride”, I say as we sit outside the Regency Restaurant enjoying some sun and seafood.
A bride in full dress and her bridesmaids were walking over the road towards the sea. Being such a cosmopolitan place not many people took any notice and we settled back to an early lunch of fish and chips and Moules Mariniere and trying to stop the bill blowing away in the sea breeze.
Across the road and on the beach, behind the stalls selling tie and dye sundresses and bracelets made from old forks something attracted my eye where the old pier used to be. Sheltered by multi-coloured windbreaks, with children’s windmills and flowers stuck into the gravel the reason why she was dressed as a bride became clear. This was a beach wedding.
“Well, it is a trendy place”, K said as I tried to find a decent picture of it without intruding. It’s a problem with my style of photography. I should have more courage and get closer instead of fretting, miles away and worried that someone will object.
I’m not really sure of Brighton’s links to Cuba but today it was Cuba / Brighton festival. A small affair with a band taking ages to tune up and sound check, a few stalls and some very interesting dancing but it was the pier we were heading for. A traditional British seaside day with deckchairs and time to sit and watch the people.
“Are you sure you’re not cheating”, I asked Richard as he started yet another game with a double six.
He smiled his current gap toothed smile, clearly holding a double blank in his hand secretively, making me wonder when he will loose his other front tooth or indeed a game.
Friday nights used to be a computer games, prawn crackers and obscure music but now that summer is here we have hardly been inside. Tonight it was a barbecue at Martin’s with my current favourite meal, baked, stuffed pineapple. The delights of the games on the CBBC site have given way to dominoes played to some local rules that only Richard understands.
Not that it matters. There’s lots I don’t understand at the moment. For now it’s nice to have something achievable and easy to do which isn’t demanding and has an end in sight.
I watch as Richard swirls the dominoes around on the table and then divides them up. Joanne wriggles on my lap as Richard puts down another double six….
In the last few days I have heard the following phrases far too much :
We really need to sort out why we all need to travel at the same time ….
Finally it arrived and after taking in the radio and my book I went out side to stand in the rain and wind and watch the storm …
It’s taken close to two months, a whole raft of paperwork and a sea of bureaucracy but, at last, we have some new hardware for the lab.
The problem is that it doesn’t fit. The rails used to hold the servers into the racks have a small tab of steel which prevents the back fitting correctly. We struggled for what seemed hours to try to fit the rails into any of the racks we have. Every time we failed for one reason or another. Too short, too long or the curse of the tab of steel. Standardisation has clearly yet to hit the world of rails and racks.
Despite “escalating” the issue to the supplier, who passed it to their reseller, no one can come up with a suitable solution. So that’s how we ended up smuggling in a hammer and a pair of pliers and “adjusting” the small tab of steel so that it caused a problem no more.
Just why aren’t you using this ?”, asked the salesman as he sat opposite me.
We’ve known each other close to two years both in good times and bad. From when they appeared to do an upgrade without their software to now, when they have a viable product but little interest from us in it, we have worked together to take the rougher edges of it and make it a viable product.
“We came over just to talk to you”, he says, spinning as only he can, a situation when he probably came over to meet half a dozen people for a dozen reasons.
The truth of the matter is that this has been a rocky road when they have taken the product off the table and we have failed to find a customer prepared to take the leap of faith.
“It’s FUD”, I say, watching the look of confusion on his face. “Fear, uncertainty and doubt”. His eyes brighten as he repeats the word in every subsequent sentence.
Whilst his colleague, the technician, is still unhappy, the salesman beams happily, he has a new phrase to add to his armoury and new thing to spin. FUD.
It’s been a while so here’s a few new hacks :
I’ve gone to loads of weddings over the years but none in which I played so many roles.
Up early this morning I picked up Mouse from the hairdressers and dropped her at Martin and Fhai’s to have her makeup done and to put on her wedding dress. With the women inside making their final preparations Martin and I picked out ties and put the ribbon on the car for the drive to the Registry Office.
As we drove there something suddenly made me ask, “Who is giving Mouse away ?” and the answer was no one. In all the rush of the last few days it was never considered and here she was alone in a strange country, not understanding the ceremony and having to walk in on her own. “You’ll have to do it”, said Fhai to me, “because Martin is doing the video”.
In my role as chauffeur and photographer I’d gone out in the week to see where the sun was at 10 in the morning and where you could park but it was a surprise to see another photographer there talking to Mouse and Dave’s guests. He was a little surprised as well as he didn’t recognise them.
After opening the door for Mouse then grabbed the camera to take some snaps it was time to be The Father of the Bride and escort her in to meet Dave.
This type of service is always short but none the less still solemn. Mouse didn’t need Fhai to translate and negotiated her way through all the words a lot better than I could have done in Thai and when they turned to face us they were man and wife.
Back outside the stray photographer was on his mobile trying to track down his wedding party who seemed to have moved the event half an hour without telling him. We shared a moment to admire each other’s SLRs before I was off to take some pictures of the happy couple in the park before I was the wedding chauffeur again to take them home.
I’ve known Dave for years, he lived around the corner from me and his parents knew mine. He took his apprenticeship at my cousin Ted’s plumbing firm. What I didn’t know was that his parent’s house, where he and Mouse now live, was in fact his grandparent’s house. It’s rather like my house - a terrace with a garden - but today it was transformed into the reception for their wedding with food from the local Thai restaurant.
As the party died down it was time to head for the next one : Martin’s mum’s 85 at Anne’s. This was a much less formal affair with no ties and shorts. It was a very special day, surrounded as she was by so much of her family. With Paul in charge of the barbecue and Richard the barman we were all well looked after
Sometimes you have a day all planned and it turns out completely differently.
Amanda and I were due to meet today at another National Trust property but, as neither of us had checked which days it was closed, we ended up going for lunch instead. With the heat rising in the brick walled garden behind L’Auberge no one had much time for chat and as Amanda checked her Blackberry for mail and arranged a series of phone calls for her journey home it seemed best to call it quits and head away.
I stopped off on the way back to see if anything caught my eye for tomorrow in one of the camera shops I know. I was looking for a light meter to try to get around the metering on my Nikon which I have never successfully conquered but my eye was caught by a D2X but with all the expense of the last few months in terms of fridges and cars I couldn’t justify it.
Back home I was alone until I wandered down to see Martin with a collection of ties for tomorrow. They had eaten outside and almost sent some food up for me but in the end decided against it.
I guess that sums up today - a day of almosts….
Two hacks to help us all take better pictures :
Ok this was on the side kitchen window and it was in full sun but it was the hottest day of the year today.
With a muggy night ahead Martin and I sat out, talked and drank beer ….
Sad news from the blogsphere as another blogger is dooced. Just when will companies stop this petty minded attitude to something which doesn’t hurt them ?
Good luck Petite…
There’s some things you learn not to eat and moules in a tomato sauce is possibly one of those.
We went to Windsor today to try to spend some vouchers and do some gentle site seeing. The toll of IKD and the heat had the better of us and all we could manage was lunch, a trip on a boat and a half of lager as we watched the plans heading into Heathrow.
It doesn’t sound much but it was nice to get away from a laptop for a while…
The lesson I learned was not to book a table at lunchtime over the phone to someone whose first language wasn’t English. Despite trying all the combinations of my first and last name and a series of words which may sound like both of them there was no reservation.
That said at 6:30 there weren’t that many people around and a table with the most amusing number was found.
This end of the city benefits from a broad, fast flowing Thames. The breeze was there to cool us and the sunset over my shoulder was stunning.
The starters were amazing (I had the chilled crab) and the main we shared (Chateau Brianne) was stunning and left us unable to manage a pudding.
A slow walk back to Borough Market, the air conditioned drive and Champagne when we got back rounded off the best IKD possibly ever….
Happy Birthday x
The problem with a new car is recognising it.
I’d walked up and down the road before I found it : sleek, grey and 2 litres of Alfa fun. I’m still getting used to all the gadgets and wondering at the marvels of cruise control but I have rediscovered something I found all those years ago when I was 21 : the fun of driving.
Today I was heading into London to shop. Not the ideal occupation on one of the hottest days of the year but a lot better to do it after a cruise controlled and air conditioned drive. All that luxury stopped at Portabello Road which 
>was full of people wilting under the heat. Luckily I knew what I was getting and where to get it so I was soon in the centre of London enjoying the breeze from the Thames as I wandered around the Turkish festival eating mezze and trying to decide if I should buy a DVD.
It’s another call to Istanbul and one that makes the pull even stronger…
I bought you from new with less that 15 miles on the clock. You were shiny and new with a sun roof and air conditioning. Over the years you knew the way to Somerset and back : we went to Lancashire and Cornwall. In the dark days when I needed to escape we’d explore for hours the back roads or stop by the sea to listen to the radio, In the good days we went on holiday and you took me safely to and from work no matter where that was. But as the years went on the service no longer fixed all the rattles and one evening someone ran a key down your side. As if complaining at all the travel you developed some annoying and concerning habits and eventually it seemed that despite new tyres and some TLC some things could not be forgotten.
Today was our last adventure. A last drive out with the roof back and all the windows open. I’d tried to convince myself that the final clean made you go better and that somehow, magically, it had fixed all the issues but it wasn’t to be. The kids had left you a farewell note and I’d cleaned out all the things I’d accumulated over the years : the Thai airways sick back Richard had given to me (luckily empty) and the parking ticket I’d kept from the last time I went to Cornwall.
So, as I stood turning the key in the driver’s door, watching as all your windows and roof closed automatically I felt a little sad, a little as if I’d betrayed you but it was for the best and better to part now than watch you towed away.
Farewell and thank you.
The last time I sat on these blue plastic chairs I’m sure they weren’t that far down.
It doesn’t seem that long ago that I was in the Lake District with Elizabeth in a carry frame on my back as we walked up the hills on those late Autumn holidays that we all took together. Today it was the farewell to her school and all the production and glamour of the West End as Year 6 put on a show for very proud parents sitting on very small chairs in a very hot hall.
Teachers have clearly changed as we watched them perform as the Spice Girls and I seemed to recognise all of the “old” music and less of the new but the show was really good and a great way to end the students time there.
The smell of barbecue coals always takes me back to Chiang Mai. The market with the food sellers cooking chicken on bamboo sticks and the man who sold pork dumplings in the grounds of one of the temples.
Tonight Fhai’s garden was transformed into a small corner of Thailand. With food on the barbecue, lanterns in the bushes and Thai being spoken as much as English it seemed for an evening I was back in Thailand.
We’d all come together to celebrate Fhai’s birthday, catch up with news and meet Dave’s wife to be, Mouse. Of course that’s not her real name. In Thailand it seems everyone has a nickname and that gets used as much as your real name. Dave and Mouse are getting married next weekend with Fhai seemingly being the wedding organiser and Martin in charge of video productions.
James was there, in between summer holidays and with news that he’s off to Nottingham Uni at the end of the summer. Daisy is still looking for cars whilst Anne and Martin’s Mum were making plans for the party next weekend. Martin and Dave were discussing where to have the wedding breakfast and how much discount Martin could negotiate.
As the darkness drew in we lit the lanterns and watched the stars and I wondered where the man who sold the dumplings was now.
With eight engineers and four streams of work today has been a bit like being the juggler in the circus.
Rushing from one group to another, one issue to another, one server to another we have slowly started to “make” things rather than talk about them.
It’s a start but it’s also a late night.
I’m getting ready for three days in the office and three days of doing real work with CDs, computers and bits of cables.
It seems ages since we did anything like this caught as we have been in a world of Visio, functional decompositions and contracts.
I wonder if we can still do it …
After a night of celebratory tapas, an attempt to sit out with the fire on, rain and a lazy Sunday morning the afternoon was spent with Martin and Fhai watching the Wimbledon Men’s Finals and resting.
I wonder where the log book is ?
Walking around the car it seemed to be OK, but driving it was another matter.
Unlike the last Alfa I’d driven this one rattled, badly. At high speed it seemed fine. Driving around the nearby housing estate it produced more noise than my old Golf : then there was the engine management system.
It started off saying there was a front bulb out, which became a rear fog light. The key didn’t lock the car remotely so we tried with the key in the lock. That seemed to work fine. Then Richard opened the passenger door and got back in as I said proudly the driver’s side was locked. Martin tried to get into the back door but that was locked. I unlocked the doors and the rear door stayed closed. We tried to open it from inside and it still stayed shut.
“I can put it on the ramp for you and we can have a look”, said the salesman happily. We agreed he should do that and call me later as we retired home no closer to a car…
With lunch on the go I opened the door to see Joanne dressed up, makeup on and case packed for her to go to the local theatre where her ballet class was doing two shows today. After standing in the porch and trying to go en pointe in her shoes she rushed off to appear before her adoring audience with a cry over her shoulder of, “don’t get red, get a grey car !”.
There was nothing for it : I had to face up that I needed to get one and needed one now. I’d purposely only taxed the Golf for six months and that was about to run out. So, off I went up the motorway to visit a dealer with a larger pool of cars to look at.
As it turned out they only had one which was the spec. I wanted. 2 litre, 5 door and, oddly, grey. After checking it over on the forecourt we went for a test drive. No rattles, an engine management system which only wanted to tell me the outside temperature and gently remind me if a door was open (which they all did) meant that this was the one.
In what seemed a few moments the deal was done and I was driving back in a car which was more rattling and sulky. Six days to go.
For Richard, growing up on a diet of K’nex and Scrap Heap Challenge, this was heaven. Not only a night out but one looking for cars.
Tonight we were looking at two Alfa’s at different garages. With Martin checking body work and Richard and I sizing them up for leg room and gadgets we must have been a salesman’s nightmare.
The first, a black one, we discounted due to what appeared to be a dodgy paint job towards the back and what seemed to be claw marks from a large animal on the top.
The second, seemed in better condition and after chatting to the salesman we went to the pub for a meal and a drink and to decide on the next step.
“What was that car called again ?”, Richard asked me as he tucked into fish and chips, “An Alfred ?”.
After the rain the sky is clearer and there’s a breeze as sit out on the patio wheezing and watching the vapour trails of the planes passing overhead.
At last the weather broke and in the rain I headed into the office.
I was due to go in for a formal review of my career and work to date but that was after a call on this new project. The first call of the day is always an odd one. People half asleep, stuck in a car or on a train or like me waiting in reception to get into a secure location. We seemed to be Ok with it and from there we moved into a review which seemed to go well.
Another call on the way back and a late finish after I waas trying to catch up from the day and clear what seems to be an increasing pile of mail.
Tonight I decided against sitting out as last night I was coughing so much Martin came to see if I was still alive. Instead I sat in and watched the football : allez le blue !
As the temperature outside rose today so did my temperature.
I’d gone to bed last night with the ominous signs of a cold about to descend. When I woke up it was in full cry. I managed to get out to Karen’s for a breakfast meeting to drop a black tie off for Elizabeth to wear in her summer show (so no one had better die in the next week or two) and came away armed with drugs to add to my plans to drink Lucozade all day.
As the sun hit the back wall of the house making my office a small furnace I took my own temperature (102 degrees) and decided that it was time to work outside under the parasol this evening.
I can’t taste a thing, the strawberries I bought are a bland mush and the Robertson’s fruit drink burns my throat but at last it’s cool, I can turn the laptop off and start a new book.
It’s been hot all day today.
From the moment the sun forced it’s way through the shutters, trying to burn it’s way onto the sheets on the bed until this evening as I asat out on the patio listening to the radio.
This simply isn’t the weather to feel this rough.
I’d planned to go out to the shops later but when I walked out I was feeling so bad all I could do was mutter something to Martin, accept his offer for lunch and sat talking with him Mum.
I never know how to address her, lost as I am in the wealth of people she has around her who call her formally by her married name, by her Christian name or simply as Nanny. This confusion is a small price to pay for some of her time spent either talking about her life in Ireland and her days courting her future husband (who she described today as The Fella from Mella); how they moved here or people we both knew from our pasts.
To be honest I was glad of the time sitting in the cool of Martin’s house while he cooked with Richard and Joanne helping out here and there.
I was even more grateful when Martin suggested we both go out to look for cars as, left to my own devices, I’d have given up and slept.
The trip was more a fact finding tour than a shopping spree as the first place we went to was closed and the second had an owner who refused me a test drive as it was hot and he didn’t want to do any more work. Clearly a man anxious to make a sale.
So, we left empty handed but with the promise that, mid week, he will have more stock in and be in a better mood to allow one of them out on the road…
I woke up this morning with a bad headache and tried to remember just how much I’d drunk the night before.
The answer was not much and, resignedly, I took some paracetamol to take the edge off it and tried to sleep again.
An hour later I was a bit better and started on the day before giving in and taking two more to try to get rid of the rusty nail someone was twisting in my head.
Eventually, after sitting out for a while, some gentle cooking and a few chapters of a book I was better.
What more could you ask for after all this stress than great company, good food, a long summer evening stretching into a night and the firelight on the patio to watch…
| Sun | Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri | Sat |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | ||
| 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |
| 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 |
| 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |
| 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 |
Full Site Feed