An Amusing Departure

It’s been a slow day, but at least there’s been a reason to smile, courtesy of Mark Cathcart, Director of Systems Engineering and a Distinguished Engineer at Dell, also; distinguished Tweeter and Blogger.

I received a tweet from him just 20 minutes or so ago and it read:

@robinbloor have mac will blog, have blog that doesn’t handle comments well… see prob report http://snurl.com/qlbt2

I’m busy, but I read the problem report, and it appears that my blog misbehaves when people try to post a comment (at least some of the time). Actually it crashes sometimes when the traffic is heavy and this may be related. It seems to crash at least twice a day at the moment, but courageously revives itself after a minute or two. (Traffic has been heavy because of the Words You Dont Know postings). But the commenting capability probably does need some attention. Monsieur Cathcart is also complaining about how it handles ping-backs.

Anyway, allow me to quote:

“One of the most eloquent [surely you mean elegant? ed] parts of blogging is the simple use of pings and trackbacks. It allows blogs to do what the web does best, link related conversations and information.

After writing my most recent blog entry, I noticed something that hadn’t occured to me at all before. Very few IT Industry analysts blogs provide this facility. Variously they require you to fill in forms, answer captchas, register and worse. In deference to Roblin Bloor, he has already posted my comment on his blog. But why might do IT Industry analysts make it so hard, surely not because they want to control the conversation?”

I just got back to Texas from Ottawa. Ottawa seemed like such a civilized place, very much a cross between the UK and the US. There was a war memorial just outside the Fairmont Hotel which is very close ot the parliament building. It is guarded by a couple of soldiers – a little like various places in London, except that it’s hard to imagine why you’d guard a war memorial.

I watched the changing of the the guard. It consisted of an officer, a bagpipe player and two guards to swap for the guards that were being relieved. For reasons beyond my understanding the bagpipe player played Waltzing Matilda as the little military ensemble marched up to change the guard. It made no sense and yet it made perfect sense. Scottish bagpipes and the Australian national anthem in order to change the guard that is guarding a war memorial.

Strawberries, Cheeses and Airports

I had assumed that the reason that US strawberries are tasteless is that there’s some climatic problem unique to the Americas that makes strawberries that actually have a taste ungrowable. Not so. The Canadians grow strawberries just fine – as I discovered at a Canadian fruit market. They also sell a great selection of cheeses. The combination of French culture and British culture with a strong dash of American makes Canada a really impressive place in many ways.

I was there to attend the CA Analyst Symposium, about which I shall write next week, because there is quite a lot to say. But I was only there 3 days and I actually wanted to stay.

Ottawa airport felt a little like a joke when I cam in. Like a regional airport in America, despite the fact that Ottawa is the capital of Canada. However it is an immensely civilized airport. Going through customs feels like a welcoming experience – and this pertains in both directions. Come in to the US by Houston, New York, Chicago and San Francisco and it feels a little oppressive, but come in through Ottawa and it feels like you are being welcomed.

Ottawa is the first and only airport I’ve been to that caters to people with laptops – who must make up at least 10% of travelers. On all the seats by all the gates there are electrical points. It can’t be hard to arrange that, but its the only airport I’ve been to that provides such a luxury.

Goodbye Ottawa. I’ll be back.

If you travel on long haul flights more than a few times, you get used to the routine. The plane announces its descent into San Francisco, Houston, London, Paris or wherever, about 30 minutes before you land. Everyone on the plane busies themselves with filling in forms and preparing for the ordeal of the passport queue. When the plane actually lands, just about everyone is desperate to get off the plane.

I went through the the same routine this morning on the way in to London Heathrow. The plane stopped at the jet way and everyone leapt from their seats and pulled their carry-ons from the overhead bins. The aisles were clogged with weary travelers in no time.

The Curious Euphemism

What could be more surprising at that point than to hear the stewardess announce:

“Could all passengers sit back in their seats please, and remove your belongings from the aisle. A welcoming committee is coming on board for one of the passengers.”

How surprising. And how graceful of all the claustrophobic passengers to sit meekly back down in their seats. What could be happening?

Perhaps Elton John was traveling incognito and some important fans wished to welcome him back to Albion’s isle. No. Maybe it was one of those dashing young princes traveling incognito and his British body guards were, well, changing guards, so to speak. Or perhaps it was some US Senator that the British Foreign Office was eager to rush through immigration so that he could have breakfast with the Queen. What could be happening?

None of those things, as it happened.

Two of the most imposing British policemen I’ve ever seen, packing heat and in no mood to negotiate, strode onto the plane and collared some young back-packer. I somehow got the impression that this was not the kind of welcoming committee the back-packer had been hoping to encounter. Once they had exited the plane it was suddenly as if nothing had happened. Everyone back on their feet and pressing forward to the exit.

I saw the young back-packer once more as I walked from the jet way. He was sitting down at a table, surrounded by his triumphant welcoming committtee – about 8 people; officious looking officials and a handful of representatives of Her Majesty’s Constabulary, including the two who had made such an unexpected entry onto the airplane.

Welcome home!

If you are wondering what the illustration is, it’s a screen shot of a Flash based animation on Youtube:

In no way does this screen shot prepare you for the visual impact of the actual flash animation, which you can see simply by clicking on the link below. However, note that the animation takes full advantage of the screen space given to it by the browser. So for the full impact expand the browser window as much as is possible.

Click here to enjoy!

This poem was voted the UK’s favorite poem. So maybe it has virtue. You’re the judge.

IF

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them:

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!