Recent Posts

Holidays are a time blissfully free of the modern distractions of computers, mobile phones, games consoles, televisions and a time for the family to spend some quality time together and eventually fall out.

Inevitably, this leads to varied, interesting, thought provoking discussions. During the Brightside annual vacation in Venice, the following thorny questions were posed:

• If you immersed yourself in a foreign country, how long would it take for you to become proficient in the language ?
• If there was a 15 km stretch of beach resort including hundreds of young people, bars and restaurants in England, how many riot police would be required ?
• If soldier ants are so damn clever, how come they didn't land on the moon first ?
• When the bus was forced into that emergency stop, was it the German tourist or the Italian bus driver who screamed 'BASTARD' ?
• What's the Italian for 'Cornetto' ?
• If mosquitoes could be trained to attack people with the same blood group, would the bites be rendered harmless ?

• Look for people with similar interests.
• Look at the friends of people you have just followed.
• Look out for people who have criteria for following others e.g. I will only consider following you if you have ever replied to me (and made me laugh out loud)'. Satisfying the first is easy, the latter less so.
• Scan the Public time line. Occasionally, you will find a gem in the fast flowing river.
• identi.ca currently doesn't have an 'Import my friends' but they will undoubtedly use the same old tired nickname with the same old, tired profile pic.
• Old technology, admittedly but you could email an invite to friends who might be interested.
• Never, ever unsubscribe from anyone. This is easy on identi.ca as this is not currently supported..
• Use searches to find like-minded individuals talking about common subjects of interest.
• If you stumble across interesting content on another service (FriendFeed, blog, Twitter) with a link to their identi.ca profile, follow them.
• Blindly follow anyone who replies to your posts.
• Look out for people located close to you (town, county, country).
• Do not troll for followers on other services although subtle, understated evangelism may prove worthwhile.
• Do not, ever, under any circumstances, beg or plead for followers.

In my job, I am often summoned into very important, high powered meetings at short notice. It doesn't matter what I am doing, who I am doing it with or where I am, I simply have to make my apologies and leave.

Last week, a client took this approach to conducting business to extremes. I was standing at the urinals, fondly remembering previous posts on manners and officious, distracting and confusing corporate directives.

As I attended to business, a gentleman in a dark suit, no tie (yes, you've guessed it - 'Dress Down Friday') and wearing a rather incongruous pair of white trainers, came into the adjacent stand.

'Hi, David. Listen - just a quickie. I just want to check that we've covered all bases before the call at 3:30'

I looked down. Thankfully, I hadn't covered all bases and everything had landed in the urinal. If only she could have witnessed this, Norma Jeane would have been so proud.

'OK Dave. That sounds cool but Debenture will be on the call so I just need to check we are all aligned.'

I looked down. We weren't really aligned that well. Subconsciously, uncomfortable at my noisy, immediate neighbour, I had slightly turned away. Acceding to his plea for corporate alignment and strategic business partnerships, I re-aligned myself by facing forward.

'Listen David - I don't think your team really appreciate the enormity of the matter in hand here.'

I snatched a surreptitious glance sideways - above average perhaps - certainly not enormous but then Norma Jeane does say that men do tend to exaggerate a little.

'David - look if we don't get any joy in the next 25 minutes, we are going to have to escalate this to the very highest levels.'

Well, I would probably describe what I had just experienced as 'relief' rather than 'joy'.

Pause. Bliss. Peace at last.

'David - are you still there ? Speak up. The reception is this place is appalling - it's as if I am calling from a toilet. Absolutely. Unfortunately, the worst case scenario does mean dragging Anthony into this.'

What did this idle threat mean ? Was the mysterious 'Anthony' was going to be summoned from cubicle #3 to join us in a Holy Triumvirate ?

'Hey Dave - I fully understand your position but I am going to have to drop off the call now.'

With that, the important man in the suit and white trainers, equipped with the Borg headset, ended the call, shook hands with the unemployed, pulled his zipper up and left the Gents urinals.

On Friday, Norman Junior III and myself loaded up our picnic hamper, packed the cool box with brightly coloured Bacardi Breezers and set off for SW19.

We had been lucky enough to get tickets for Wimbledon tennis in the public ballot last year but, thanks to the English weather, we only saw grey skies and 63 minutes of play. It was scant consolation that we saw Maria Sharapova in the flesh. OK, I'll admit it - that was a massive consolation !

This year, we applied again in the public ballot and we got lucky. Very lucky. We were allocated Centre Court tickets for Friday 4 July, the day of the Men's Semi Finals. Or as those posh stewards from the Wimbledon Championships prefer to call it, the 'Gentleman's Singles'

We used my own private and exclusive 'Park & Ride' scheme which entails parking on a residential road and walking through Wimbledon Village, admiring the beautiful people, en-route to Wimbledon Tennis Club on Church Road.

After clearing security, ('No sharp objects just ham & cheese rolls') we wandered around the outer courts which were hosting doubles and junior matches. We saw the world's sporting journalists and TV crews setting up in the media centre, had a look at Aorangi Terrace - sorry 'Henman Hill' - sorry 'Murray Mount' and gazed at hundreds of people, soaking up the sun and the atmosphere, preparing to watch matches on a very big screen.

Norman Junior asked why Wimbledon was charging a staggering 85 pence for a Toffee Crisp and £2.60 for a bag of Maynard's Wine Gums. I told him it was so the LTA can pay off the rest of Brad Gilbert's contract and finish the retracting roof.

At 12:30, we took our seats on Centre Court and were delighted to discover we had brilliant seats on row 10, to the left of the umpire's chair, bathed in brilliant sunshine.

Roger Federer against Marat Safin was the first match and Federer did indeed look impressive in his cream cardigan, with five gold embossed buttons (signifying the number of his Wimbledon triumphs). Federer beat Safin in straight sets and he's an awesome player. It must be soul destroying to play against Federer as the guy never seems to make a mistake and barely seems to be exerting himself. Safin tried manfully but rarely looked like breaking Federer's serve and, after losing a second set tie-break and smashing a racket on his chair, Safin understandably lost heart and Federer triumphed 6-3, 7-6, 6-4.

After a quick break to play 'Spot the Celebrity' in the Royal Box (Prince Michael of Kent, Des Lynam, Michael Parkinson and Trevor Macdonald), it was time for Rafael Nadal. When Norman Junior III asked me for my prediction, I loudly said 'It will be close but I'm going for Schuettler in four sets' which drew some puzzled looks from our immediate neighbours.

Nadal is a big man and taller than I imagined. He is very strong, athletic and muscular. In fact, I think he has muscles on top of his muscles. Nadal swept into an early 3-0 lead after breaking the serve of the German, Rainer Schuettler. The game looked like it could be an embarrassing, one -sided affair but credit to Schuettler who actually broke Nadal's serve and was on top in the second set. Nadal came back though and levelled to take the set into another tie-break. Inevitably, just like Federer and like a true world class sportsman, Nadal went up a gear and won the tie-break (and the match) easily.

We finished our cheese and cucumber sandwiches, drained our flask of tea, cracked open our packet of Wine Gums (60p from Asda), took some more photos and watched one set of Mixed Doubles (Jamie Murray) before making our way home to try to (successfully) spot ourselves on the TV highlights.

Obligatory photos (with captions) here

Although it's very cool to post on the corporate message board: Hey - why don't we save the company millions of dollars by using Linux, Gmail and OpenOffice ?, there are obvious barriers (security and Excel Luddites to name but two) to large corporations adopting server based software.

However, I always thought Google Mail would be an obvious fit for academic institutions to reduce the costs of software licenses and IT management. Adoption of such 'software as a service' would make sense as although some students are 'late risers', the majority could also be classified as 'early adopters' who are comfortable with the technology.

This recent announcement that the Department of Education in New South Wales will roll out (a customised version of ) Google Mail to 1.5 million students is an interesting development.

The cost of the new system will be $9.5 million as opposed to the $33 million for the previous Exchange/Outlook based solution with students getting an increased quota of 6GB (previously a miserly 35MB).

Although the initial contract is purely for email services for students only (no Google Talk), the obvious extension is to include Google Docs and Spreadsheets to displace Microsoft Office.

Two weeks ago, I made my annual pilgrimage to the Surbiton Trophy where I enjoyed a day in the sun watching an excellent Mens Final between Frank Dancevic and Kevin Anderson.

Norman Junior III also plays tennis at Surbiton albeit not to such a high standard. In the lull between the main event and the Men's Doubles Final, Norman Junior III and the juniors came on to entertain a handful of spectators on the two main courts, performing some standard drills with their coaches.

After two hours on court on a blisteringly hot day, I expected the winner, Frank Dancevic, to hoist the trophy for the obligatory photo, pocket his cheque and beat an hasty retreat to get a shower and a cold drink. However, much to my surprise, Dancevic joined in with the boys and girls playing with some 6 year olds on a quarter size court with orange balls.

Dancevic was absolutely brilliant with the kids, laughing and joking and even throwing in some grunts if he struggled to make a return. He then rallied with some up and coming teenagers who were very keen to score a point off the professional. Even after the fun session was over, Frank still made more time available to chat and sign the kids' tennis bags.

Last night, on Court 1 at Wimbledon, there was a minor shock as Frank Dancevic beat David Nalbandian in straight sets (6-4, 6-2, 6-4). Nalbandian was the 7th seed for Wimbledon while Dancevic is ranked 98 in the world and unseeded.

Well played Frank and good luck in the next round against Bobby Reynolds.

Oracle AppsLab is one of my longest standing and favourite blogs.

Jake Kuramoto (and the AppsLab team) always post interesting and thought provoking articles and I also share a few areas of common interest (Twitter, Disqus, FriendFeed et al).

Although I happen to work for the same company as Jake Kuramoto, I have never actually met Jake in person. Curiously, I have had more interactions with Jake by commenting on the blog as opposed to communications via Oracle email.

When I read this recent post announcing a new version of Oracle Connect (an internal networking initiative within Oracle behind the corporate firewall), my immediate reaction was: 'Why did he post this to the AppsLab blog ? Why on earth would this possibly be relevant, or of interest, to non Oracle employees ?'

Then I realised such internal developments are of interest to a wider audience as it demonstrates Oracle's commitment to 'Web 2.0' technologies.

I also pondered how long it would have taken me to find out about this upgrade if I wasn't subscribed to the AppsLab blog.

There is a certain irony in finding out about internal developments within Oracle on a public blog.

On Friday I returned from a very enjoyable week in Brussels. Hard work, challenging customer and miscellaneous technical issues. However, unusually, I had the pleasure of the company of a few of colleagues so we were able to have a chat over a meal and share a few excellent beers together.

Over the past five years, I have visited so many European airports, that they all tend to blur into one. However, certain key characteristics soon reminded me that I was indeed back in Brussels.

The lengthy queue for the 123 taxis to pass the roadworks to reach the set down area. The massive queue to clear passport control. The cursory glance at your passport from the policeman followed by a grunt. The long and winding road to security. The same officious, self-satisfied, arrogant security staff. Unfortunately, this queue doesn't actually move as crew (acceptable) and security staff, cleaners, shop assistants (less so) keep jumping the queue because they are so important.

The short flight itself is uneventful enough although there is a little turbulence on the descent into London. Then, as I fold my tray and return my seat to the upright position, fear is struck into the very core of my heart as I witness something no-one should ever have to witness on an aircraft.

My immediate neighbour reaches into here rucksack for a bottle of orange Powerade. She stands up and screams 'For the glory of Allah !' and switches her digital watch to UK time. No, no - only joking.

Suddenly and without any warning, the young lady next to me reaches for the 'Call' button with her left hand while simultaneously extracting the 'Sick Bag, unfolding it and skilfully placing it under her mouth.

I respond by edging away, averting my gaze and covering my knees and expensive Pierre Cardin suit with various sections of the Daily Mail. I note an interesting story about fashions for the summer on my right thigh.

The BA stewardess comes promptly and is kind and reassuring. A glass of iced water arrives and she dispenses some magnificent advice on coping with motion sickness: 'Take your jacket off to stay cool, keeping sipping the water and oh - don't forget to breathe.'

Once we clear the cloud cover, the flight is smooth once again and the potential crisis is averted.

We land at Terminal 5 and park on a remote stand. Unfortunately, the young lady is unable to disembark, get some fresh air and rush to the nearest lavatory. After 10 minutes, the smooth, well-spoken co-pilot announces the bad news:

'I'm awfully sorry, ladies and gentlemen but there will be a slight delay. We are just waiting for some steps and buses to be brought to the aircraft but BAA groundstaff have been practising for the tomorrow's arrival of George W. Bush and there are now significant delays as a result.'

After 15 minutes, no-one screams with delight or initiates mock applause at the sight of a single bus. We are British, you see. The steps arrive 5 minutes later so half the passengers are free to disembark. But not us, sitting in rows 15-28.

I contemplate brandishing a bottle of Lemon Powerade and and screaming 'Take me out of here to the land of Heinz 57 vestal virgins. Now.' While this might accelerate my exit from my plane, it might leave me with some explaining to do.

Finally, after 35 mins, we descend the steps. The co-pilot was indeed correct. BAA have been busy practising for Bush's arrival. There are eggs, rotten tomatoes and discarded placards strewn across the tarmac. I pause briefly to kiss the ground before boarding the bus. I am left with the pungent after-taste of rotten egg in my mouth.

How ironic, given his record, that the outgoing President refuses to enter the UK at a military base and instead chooses to bring chaos to Heathrow just to get his ego stroked.

We now enter the Stargate style timewarp in order to enter the main Terminal 5 building. Well, it must be a timewarp because on my outbound journey, I noticed multiple signs containing the dire warning: 'Please do not enter Satellite B unless your flight departs from 'B' gate. It will take (at least) 40 mins to return.'

Which is weird as it took me just 5 minutes, using the timewarp.

I suspect I have different audiences reading my blog, Tumblr, Friendfeed, Jaiku, GR Shared Items. I call this reader fragmentation but havent applied for copyright yet. Should I ?

The Chameleons used to cover ATV's 'Splitting in Two' for an encore. Reg (guitar) played the drums and John (drums) played bass. Mark Burgess threw himself into the crowd and chaos ensued.

Burgess also used to improvise snippets of The Fall's 'Rowche Rumble' and occasionally Joy Division's 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' and some Beatles tune.

8 minutes of pure, manic, unsurpassed joy.

I once asked Mark Perry of ATV (via email) what he thought of the cover. He replied that he loved it and had even guested with The Chameleons for an encore at a gig at The Lesser Free Trade Hall.