A day of chores, shopping and a coffee on the walk home.

Tonight Martin and I shared a bottle of wine, planned tomorrow and plotted to go elephant hunting next weekend…

Posted by Mark at 11:19 PM | Permalink

It’s odd being an outsider in a crowd, it’s even stranger if the people in whose midst you are in are your family.

I’d had a call from a distant relative to say an uncle of mine would be over from Australia for probably his last visit of his 81 years and the offer to meet with him at a local pub.

I’d arrived a little early to be met by the site of police cars and local radio vans escorting a bagpipe band through the village centre : an unsettling sight given how far we are from the Highlands. Even stranger was the fact that everyone was parking in the field opposite the pub. It turned out that all the fuss was an oyster festival in support of the local church and not an invasion of marauding Scots.

I spotted them in the car park and watched them walk across to where I stood. He looked the same as when I last saw him, sitting at my Mother’s table as we all watched Concord’s maiden flight. The voice was the same and the firm handshake reminded me of my Father. After all these years and with so little time talking is awkward and tends to be far too superficial for what you want or need to say.

What I wasn’t ready for was the arrival of the remainder of my family. People I hadn’t seen and with whom I had not one thing in common or to talk about. A few of them made small talk. Awkward and disjointed, scarred with the family rifts and two decades of separation. Others just didn’t speak which suited me. I think I’m fairly amiable but in lots of respects I was here for one thing and one person only.

As the pipes skirlled outside I closed my eyes and listened to his soft, Australian voice and I was again the small boy who was entranced by the man who sent me letters describing the countries he traveled to; who sent me amazing things from Australia; who, that cold Christmas Eve, woke the house up by standing outside late at night, pyjamas covered by my Father’s coat, standing amazed at his first sight of snow.

Posted by Mark at 11:25 PM | Permalink

Whilst Richard was dressing like a rapper and striking some attitude laden poses Ann, Paul, James, Daisy, Fhai, Joanne, Martin and I settled down to a table groaning with fresh Thai tucker.

The basil leaves were still as sweet as when they left Chiang Mai market a week ago, the rice was fresh (but not quite as good as that from Fhai’s fields in Thailand which even I can detect the difference in) and with spices, chillies and ginger we ate course after course.

After cleaning up with settled down to watch some of the video of the trip, play Twister and plan the weekend.

Posted by Mark at 11:49 PM | Permalink

At least this time I was just visiting for the day.

I was up and out of the house at 6:15 for a set of all day presentations and workshops with a supplier in a hotel near Heathrow today. Thanks to the accident on the motorway it took me over 2 hours to get there but at least it was a more local journey than of late.

The hotel was a large featureless place next to the airport with a lobby full of the luggage from some convention of Air Iran staff. The day was interesting but to be honest I’m glad I have a travel free day to catch up with chores here and work in general.

Catch you all later.

Posted by Mark at 10:21 PM | Permalink

Refreshed by yesterday we got the work finished off today. This is all very early in this project and it’s going to run and run. Two days work hardly dents the surface of the first phase…

Driving back seems to take less time, perhaps because I’m looking forward to my own bed.

I have a stack of receipts to claim but for now, sleep.

Posted by Mark at 9:43 PM | Permalink

Being imaginative sometimes demands an imaginative space.

Our Derby offices have a room with totally white walls that can be drawn on with whiteboard markers. Even the cupboard doors can be used to write that important thought on. If that’s not creative enough the cupboards hold playdough and klennex : perhaps I should have brought Joanne and Richard with me.

So, in this funky and organic environment we sat and tried to make sense of the project, the deliverables and the quality management process. All day long.

By the time we left we were all a little stir crazy at sitting staring at white walls all day long and decided to go for a walk in the older part of the city. The Brunswick is small pub with a microbrewery producing a great range of local beers or which Triple Hop seemed the best. I really like this area of Derby. The terraced houses, the wonderful black and white pictures of the old steam railway shed in the pub all seemed to make it a comfortable place to sit and have a drink, and that’s what we did before turned back to the hotel for a Mexican meal and final few drinks in the hotel bar.

Posted by Mark at 11:45 PM | Permalink

There’s very little to do on the road but eat.

After four hours on the road I eventually arrived in Sheffield for the first of the meetings which brought me up here. With only one visitors parking space I had to forage around for the closest NCP which gave me a 10 minute view of part of the city on my walk back to the office. The meeting was one of series over the next few days all related to a new project we are about to start on. With the meeting over it was time to find the car, remember to ask for a receipt and back down the motorway to Derby.

The Stuart is a “modern and contemporary style hotel and offers the luxury and amenities expected from a self rated four star hotel&rdquo somewhere in the city. Arriving after a whole day in the car all I wanted to do was park up and walk. Strolling down the road I passed the doorman at the Anoki. He was dressed in flamboyant turban, long embroidered coat and gold slippers, curled up at the end. “Is the food good ?”, I asked. &lqduo;The best Indian you will ever taste, I guarantee”, he said and so I went in. The Anoki occupies the old picture house in this block of 1800’s buildings on the top floor above the shops and keeps up the tradition of showing films with Bollywood movies projected on the wall from the Tigra channel. High on style it mixes Victorian arches which support the roof from the shoulders of bare breasted maidens with large photographs of Indian dancers and architecture.

The food is a good version of the standard Indian fare you get in this country but owes it’s tastes and textures to the Bengali tradition of the chefs. The Goan prawn curry I had lacked the subtly of the curries I had eaten in places like The Fisherman’s Cove in Candolin, Goa. That said it was good food but the real problem of the evening was being the single diner in a sea of large parties. The order arrived late and was wrong, it took and age to clear the table, the flower filled finger bowl offered to every other diner sailed past my table and the bill took 15 minutes to arrive.

As I leave the doorman asks me &lqduo;Go on tell me honestly, how was it&rdquo. After I tell him he looks at me

Posted by Mark at 11:51 PM | Permalink

“To sleep, perchance to dream”, and that’s all I managed to do all day. I had to give up the plans to go out and see the St George’s day celebrations and instead I slept in the front room.

Perhaps tomorrow will be better …

Posted by Mark at 9:17 PM | Permalink

It seemed today that Martin had brought the sun home with him.

The day was bright and warm and I pottered around at home to get some chores done and to make a start on work in the garden. I washed down the patio furniture and found what was left of the teak oil from last year. Unfortunately the spray bottle it was in it had seized up as the oil in the nozzle dried. Despite all my attempts I couldn’t free the mechanism and after pulling the trigger on the spray a dozen all more times all I had was a pressurized teak oil grenade. In the end I had to give up and break it open.

I’d wanted to do more in the garden but I had to give up, realising that I was still waiting for the return of some tools from L’s. The last gardening I’d done was at her place to make the front look a little better.

After a call to Martin to see how they were settling in we were off to Ann’s for the first barbecue of the year. Fhai stayed behind and slept but the rest of us came armed with wine hoping for Paul’s home made burgers.

The sun wasn’t warm enough to let us sit out too late (and I acquired a fleece from Ann to keep me warm) so in the end we retired to the conservatory for cheese, wine and blues from Paul’s amazing record collection.

It’s not summer, but it’s a start.

Posted by Mark at 11:36 PM | Permalink

It hardly seems three weeks since they left.

I’d planned to video them walking out of arrivals but Richard beat me to it. Running through the crowds he surprised me, eager to tell me all about their trip and the things they’d seen, he was closely followed by Joanne and Martin and Fhai.

It had taken me twice the normal time to get to Heathrow thanks to an accident on the M25 but with their flight delayed an hour it all evened itself out in the end plus the delay meant we had an easier run home. The car was full of stories of where we had all been and each others news.

It’s really nice to see them all again…

Posted by Mark at 11:35 PM | Permalink

The politics are getting worse and worse.

The job is getting more and more ill defined.

I wonder if this is the breaking point …

Posted by Mark at 11:27 PM | Permalink

I’m more and more surprised at what you can do with Google.

The last few days I have been playing around with Google calendar and trying to layer together all the various bits of information I have into one calendar.

Now I discover that you can use Google to cook with.

Check out the Google recipe base here….

Posted by Mark at 8:45 PM | Permalink

“Maybe that will show you that you need to be more careful with who you loan money to ?”, Amanda said.

She could probably tell from the silence I didn’t agree. It wasn’t how I was brought up, nor how I feel . If someone comes asking for help or you can help someone why should you stop to think about the consequences ?

It’s true I have a somewhat naive view at times. Perhaps a little too innocent for my own good about people but I’d rather offer to help than sit back and watch people struggle and suffer, no matter what walk of life they come from.

We were having this conversation as I’m sill trying to reclaim money and property and a few months on it seems, at last, that things are on the move, at least for the money.

I hate playing the tough guy.

Posted by Mark at 8:41 PM | Permalink

One of the great levellers of this country is racing.

In the grounds of one of the grand old houses of this county every Easter racing takes place. It brings together the monied and the poor to spend a Bank Holiday afternoon watching horses and placing bets.

Those who can afford it pay the extra to park their car next to the racecourse, picnicing from the boot, sometimes barbecuing or just having a place to sit and watch the races go by. Others park further away and spend what cash they don’t gamble in the beer tents or at the food stalls.

But, when the race is started they all join together. Class differences and who parked where are forgotten. They all cheer on the same horses.

I didn’t win my fortune but I did manage a few pictures. Clearly I’m not a sports photographer nor am I much good at black and white but they are here.

Posted by Mark at 10:33 PM | Permalink

Normally Easter at Amanda’s is riotous affair in a house packed full of people.

This year, with Chris’s Dad in hospital, it’s a more quiet affair. The proper celebrations will be held over until he’s recovered, the plan being to have a second Easter at a later date. With Amanda already planning a second summer birthday for Ben there’s a danger that all the large celebrations will take place twice and the party will go on all year, kind of like it did the year Chris and Amanda married.

This mini Easter didn’t stop the chocolate fountain coming out though which was nice at the time but I’m sure it’s put inches on to everyone’s waistlines..

Posted by Mark at 10:04 PM | Permalink

Today has been a day of downloading pictures, processing them to remove noise, colour correcting them and generally trying to make them look half decent.

Have a look at the gallery here.

Posted by Mark at 10:44 PM | Permalink

Last day and the sun’s out !

Free to wander the streets I’ve spent the whole day exploring canals and dodging people on bikes.

The sunshine has changed the whole city with long straight stretches of water twinkling under a clear blue sky, cafes are now sporting people at the outdoor tables drinking coffee and people come out to sit on their steps and watch life pass them by. The public holiday of Pasen won’t start for two days yet but Amsterdam seems more relaxed and rested today with tourists and locals alike taking time out to enjoy the weather.

Even in the seedy parts of the city there’s a more relaxed atmosphere. I walk past one of the clubs on Oudezijds Achterburgwal and hear the doorman trying to pull in the early morning crowd. “Smut and filth, the cornerstones of society” he says to no one in particular.

Near the Bloemenmarkt I find a stall selling Maatjes Haring the Dutch snack of raw herring, sold with chopped onion and gherkin. The locals seems to eat them whole, picking them up by the tail and eating them like penguins, head back, held by the tail and thrown down in one. I opt for the paper plate and precut slices of fish.

With the sun on my back and lot of good memories I head for the station and the journey home.

Posted by Mark at 11:55 PM | Permalink

Today it was easier to stay inside. The city was covered in rain.

Sitting at the cafe on the corner of Ferdinand Bolstrat next to the Heineken Experience I watched Amsterdam life pass by the window. People on bikes talking into mobile phones, people on bikes trying to hold an umbrella against the rain and the procession of confused and lost tourists struggling with guidebooks and maps.

We’d done the museums this morning. The Rijksmuseum with it’s stash of Dutch masters and Rembrandts; the Delftware, silverware and dolls houses followed by the Van Gogh.

The rain didn’t seem to dampen the enthusiasm of the shoppers in Albert Cuypmarkt, the large open market situated in the Pijp Area which used to be a canal before the land was reclaimed. Everything was on sale there from pets to perfume.

It always seems when you travel that you find the best places to eat on the last day. Tonight we needed traditional Dutch and headed out to the Rozengracht, passed the police checkpoint testing the passing motorists for drink and drugs.

Moeders is a great place to eat. An older style restaurant offering very well cooked traditional Dutch food. It’s walls are covered with pictures of mothers who have eaten there and none of the cutlery, plates or glasses matches as they were all donated when the place opened.

I started with the Autumn Salad, ‘mixed salad with smoked ham of deer, chestnuts, red lentils, pear, quail eggs & pumpkin chips’ followed by Hotch Potch, ‘the real Dutch “stamppot” mashed potatoes with vegetables served with a sausage of the HEMA (famous department store), meatball & bacon’.

The food was stunning, the service excellent and the atmosphere wonderful. A really relaxed last evening in Amsterdam.

Posted by Mark at 11:25 PM | Permalink

Sometimes the saddest things is shown in the care people put into what is designed to hurt or shame them.

Anne Frank’s house is a plain, unassuming building. In her time Prinsengracht would have been relatively quiet, today the corner of the street is full of tourists queuing to get the first viewing of the day.

The tour takes you on a winding route from the new annex into the front of the house. You can imagine Victor Kugler, Johannes Kleiman, Miep Gies, and Bep Voskuijl (the only people to know of the existence of the Achterhuis, a Dutch word denoting the rear part of a house, translated as the “Secret Annex” in English editions of the diary) walking here with food, never knowing if they were being followed.

From the morning of Monday, July 6, 1942 until the morning of August 4, 1944 Anne and her family lived in the Achterhuis before they were betrayed. No one really knows who did it (although there is a report on who may have done it available at the Netherlands Institute for War Documentation - Who Betrayed Anne Frank? by David Barnauw and Gerrold van der Stroom, Amsterdam, April 25, 2003. Retrieved March 18, 2006.) They had survived the Hongerwinter or Hunger Winter and remained hidden until almost the liberation of Amsterdam on 5 May 1945.

For the Franks, the van Pels family and Fritz Pfeffer (a dentist and friend of the family who joined them in hiding) that morning sealed their fate. With the exception of Otto, Anne’s father, all died. For Anne her death came from typhus a few weeks before British troops liberated Bergen-Belsen on April 15, 1945.

Wandering from room to room I’m struck by the everyday things left behind recording those years of hiding and fear. The pictures Anne cut out and pasted on her walls, the pencil marks recording the height of all the children from year to year.

Locked in one of the display cabinets is a yellow Jewish Star which every Jew was compelled to wear. They were provided printed onto lengths of yellow cloth. They had to be cut out and sewn onto every garment the person would wear. A visible mark of race and hate.

The star in this cabinet has been cut out, it’s edges neatly hemmed to prevent it fraying.

I stand and wonder how you could have such care over something which would change your life forever.

Posted by Mark at 11:02 PM | Permalink

Heathrow at 5 am is empty.

The shops are closed. So is security desk and the few people here mill around waiting for check in to open. Some are hunched over their Blackberries catching up with mail and waiting for a more social time to make phone calls, others are writing in notebooks, trying to sort the day ahead.

Three hours later and Schipol is bustling with people sitting expectantly at the cafe opposite the arrivals gate. I’m still on the look out for Paul who, according to Anne, was on this flight when H arrives and we head into town.

First stop is the hotel to drop off the bags then on to a cafe to check out lists of things to do and spread maps out over tables of applecake and coffee.

We ease ourselves into the city with an exhibition of Indonesian art at the Old Church followed by a Thai meal and a wander back with the city in darkness….

Posted by Mark at 11:54 PM | Permalink

I’d really thought that the politics around this job had settled, at least for a while.

This whole division seems to be built on insecure foundations with unclear roles. The up shot of this is we seem to spend more time working against each other rather than with each other.

There’s not much I can do today as I’m lost in the last minute panics and mail, trying to clear the decks before I’m away. It’s something I need to think about as clearly no one can continue to work like this.

Posted by Mark at 11:03 PM | Permalink

The problem with size 12 feet is getting size 12 shoes.

All the trendy footware seem to stop at a single digit size. Even the bloke who served me, taller than me and with feet as large, said we suffering from foot discrimination.

After a day walking around, wearing down the pair I had on, I finally found some…..

Posted by Mark at 9:19 PM | Permalink

I have to admit I’d still not sure that I can use a camera.

Today at the seaside I wandered around and struggled with f stops and metering and managed only a few decent snaps.

The walk was nice though …

Posted by Mark at 9:13 PM | Permalink

Independent Online Edition > Homes

“In this virtual village, people know their neighbours well, do favours for each other, run errands, share resources, arrange social events, buy and sell things, get together to sort out communal problems, swap information on services in the locality, and sometimes just let off steam. And this is all done via the website.”

There’s an interesting report in The Independent on the efforts of the residents of the Jam Factory development, just to the south of Tower Bridge in London, to produce a sense of community by running their own intranet to share ideas, news and gather opinions about the environment that they live in.

Over the years I’ve run and written a few sites which have has some of the elements of myjamfactory.com such as discussion forums, private for sale ads and galleries. I’m a little surprised that some elements of this site aren’t integrated into the main site (such as the blogs) and I do wonder if Joomla would have been a better solution.

What does interest me is the ability of this type of site to knit together communities :

“Sarah Fry, 40, a costume designer, has lived at the Jam Factory for three years and admits: “The first thing I do in the morning is check what the gossip is on the network. I use the intranet as a thermometer for what’s going on. I take the temperature of the Jam Factory every morning.”

“Sometimes it’s really lively - people might all be sending congratulations to a couple getting married. When the temperature is low, it might be that there’s a complaint about someone leaving a door open. Or you might see that so-and-so has got a bed to sell. There might be a party invite, or an invitation to a good sale. Or someone might be saying: ‘My taps have gone, can someone help me find a plumber?’”

I can’t help feeling that something along these lines would be good where I live. The community is becoming fractured not because of the people who live here but simply because they don’t have the time to invest in residents committees and meetings.

Perhaps something virtual would replace that. Perhaps I need to pick up my mouse and start work …

Posted by Mark at 8:22 PM | Permalink

Chinatown seemed empty as I wandered through it tonight.

I’d been in Soho earlier where the music in the pub was interrupted by a pub quiz and the drinkers interrupted by Chinese men peddling cigarettes and incomprehensible Chinese magazines.

London tonight was warm after a clear blue Spring day. The Charlotte Street Hotel was full of media types, those who managed to get in early enough before they spilled down the street to the Marquis. The really late comers were left on the steet corner outside the Marquis holding whatever they managed to purchase from the scrum at the bar.

Leaving behind the directors and runners and the talk of who was working on what film I walked down to Chinatown to eat at the Tokyo Diner (full of young Japanese girls talking about their first job in IT and a table full of people discussing new cycles and the best width for a set of handlebars) before heading to De Hem for a beer or two. There was a very diffrent crowd in here. The bar upstairs full of young Dutch people watching the football from their country, laughing and drinking. The masseuse was doing a good trade at the sofas and the tables were full of glasses of Fruli, the cranberry flavoured beer.

De Hem always has a welcoming feel to it. You can see why George R Sims wrote :

When oysters to september yield
And grace the grottoed Macclesfield
I will be there my dear De Hem
To wish you well and sample them.

Posted by Mark at 11:39 PM | Permalink

We have a great habit of starting things but not finishing them.

Things get done, the problem is we never finish them and they wither and die. That seems to be the problem with the Wiki. New, fresh, innovative it’s honeymoon period is over as people read it once and move on to something new or, more likely, the same old insular ways of working.

Despite weekly mails and prodding people to edit and assist the story all around is “too busy” which is a shame as has some benefits for us all.

I wonder how we can break these cycles ?

Posted by Mark at 8:48 PM | Permalink

No ilities is an actual term.

In a whole day we have produced 3 documents and not even looked at the project plans. That’s almost as productive as my drive to work where I seemed to be parked on the M25 for hours and hours.

I can see some benefits from all this paperwork but like a lot of people I guess I’m still a geek at heart and want to get on with the actual doing rather than the defined and documenting. It’s a fine balance between both aspects and for a lot of us all these forms and terms are new and foreign. It’s rather like learning how to write with your left hand. You know what you have to produce and can easily do it the old way but to do it the new way is strange, slow and frustrating.

ilities ? Oh, there’s a whole list of them here…

Posted by Mark at 9:06 PM | Permalink

It was hardly time off. What with meetings, email and a trip to the office but I suppose there was some time away and the upside was there wasn’t the piles of emails and calls to deal with on the first day back in the office.

Things are still a little odd at work with people on holiday but there’s enough work to keep everyone busy. I have a few days in the office project planning and setting up for some new challenge so today was sorting and clearing the decks for that. Luckily that kept me busy and my mind of Karen ….

Posted by Mark at 8:58 PM | Permalink

I’m really lucky that Karen and I have kept in touch over the years.

With what happened to both of us it would have been easy for us to drift apart but something kept us close and that seems to be keeping us closer. At least that’s how it feels today as we went out with Alex and Elizabeth for Sunday lunch.

Everyone was a little tetchy (especially Alex after a late night) and a little cautious ahead of Karen going into hospital tomorrow.

We managed a good time but there were a lot of thoughts in everyone’s minds…

Posted by Mark at 11:03 PM | Permalink

Near the top of Charing Cross road is a phone box set in from the kerb which pinches the streams of theatre goers and tourists down to a trickle as they pass the large anonymous restaurant window.

Walking past it today the pace was even slower as people tried to avoid the young girl, her legs wrapped in a black plastic bag, the coffee cup kicked over with the few coins she’d collected spread on the floor. Exhausted and asleep she had become a sideshow as well dressed visitors squeezed to one side to avoid her.

By the time I was a few paces away a large police van appeared and several officers stepped out to deal with the situation. Clearly not a side of London that should be tolerated she was spirited away to leave the streets free of her presence.

How we deal with the margins of society tells us a lot about the times we live in. Earlier I was in Southwark, an area of London still very much haunted by the ghosts of the past. Normally I walk there along the Thames but today I had started inland and walked down Union Street navigating with a mixture of my old battered A to Z, the spire of Southwark Cathedral and guess work. Sometimes the latter is the best way, you stray down unfamiliar roads and see things hidden from general view.

Redcross Way is one of these roads. On one side the old buildings of Southwark; warehouses and factories, a pub on the corner. On the other side of the road it seems at first sight that the buildings are removed. An open space with large gates to which are tied pieces of cloth and flowers. Here, tucked away from general view, so close to the trendy parts of new London is Crossbones Graveyard the final, anonymous resting place of London’s unwanted. No one really knows how many prostitutes, unwanted children, the destitute and the mad lay here. It’s only a few steps away from Borough Market and the Tate Modern but other than the things tied to the gates there is no formal remembrance of all the people who were disposed of here.

I don’t know where that girl was taken to. Perhaps I should have gone back to ask. I’d like to think that we don’t have the huge cracks in society which existed when Crossbones was in use but it does make you wonder …

Posted by Mark at 11:08 PM | Permalink