3 months later...with a raft of worldtrip photos to post I'm still wiping the techno-sleep from my eyes. Looking at my calendar, I see it's time to address the Bazzaslur and create a data-driven website with as little effort / in as little time as possible. Then again, Soulseek & Wimbledon are calling...

After 18 glorious months of contracting with Aunty Atos in Blighty, the gig is finally up. Lowlights have included; wearing suits daily, diminished power from contractor status, commuting (6 months), combating negativity. Highlights have been; earning GBP as the dollar tanks, bringing mates to Blighty, working with phenomenal people, being outside IR35 with CXC, learning different parts of the software business, redundancy cheques, visiting excrement digestion plants. No flowers.

It feels as though it's August 2003 and I've just woken from a vivid dream of being back in England. As a way of ducking out of dealing with what comes next, a round-the-world trip has been hastily organized. Flexible dates & route add more haze to the journey's purpose/duration, but currently penciled in are; Denver (tail-end of ski season), Fiji, Sydney (Flangezone, Sun Office for Kt)/Queensland (surfing), Bali/Lombok (time permitting), Cambodia (Bob/Riffy)/Thailand.

Anyone with a faint interest in footy and/or time-on-hands needs to follow the Beeb's Robbo column. Does such a character exist for American sports?

Some hurriedly-published piccies from the last 6 weeks; one of the finer Karaoke evenings of late (gratitude to Barrett for organizing by way of this), the abuse that was Bob&Riffy's going-away bash, and the return of the NorthEast for Aaron/Heidi's wedding.

Sad to relate that due my ineptitude/laziness there will be no updates until return from aforementioned journey in two or three months time. Probably.

Perhaps my view of Blighty is rose-tinted, but nowhere in the recesses of my brain do I store memories of daily snow during the wintertime in SE England. Until now. For nigh on a month the white stuff has been fluttering in the sky. Perhaps this is a 1961/2-style end to the season, or maybe all that stuff about climate change isn't baloney and Kyoto was a progressive step ignored by shotbix regimes?

A couple of new hangers-on and a weekend trip to gay Paris. 

Having watched Chelsea sneak past Barcelona in the Champions League last night, I thought "what better way to celebrate than seek out the newspaper in Barcelona and read about their pain?". So off I trundled to Google, which reported that El Periodico, rather than El Pais, was the paper to concentrate on such Catalonian matters. Great! Google offers a translate service. As a quasi-software engineer it is profoundly reassuring to see what a comically shonky effort it made of it. Back in those lofty corrugated iron towers of Middlesex we pretended to study a compsci module called 'artificial intelligence'. Central question was 'Is AI possible? If so, when? Within the next 50 years?'. Well, not 12 years, that's for sure. Which is why we're all still in jobs (mostly/just). Phew.

New Year's Resolution; maintain website. Sadly, like my flailing career, this wish has gone to pot, got the munchies and snarfed 5 bowls of cereal & a packet of hobnobs. Fear not, reader, imminent changes in my working status should at least make for some good frostytime.

The eve of my 10 years anniversary as a wage slave is up (March 1, 1995), as is my contract at Atos Origin. The latter has been brought to bear by a set of dodgy circumstances, the usual tragi-comic events of an IT project going astray. Lessons of self-preservation are there to be learnt somewhere, some post-match analysis will occur when the last hours have been billed. In the meantime, effort will be made to dust down the old resume/cv, and some sort of oh-badgers-time-to-relearn-computing activities -- maybe a .NET exam or two. With any luck this old creaking website will finally be transformed from the Front Page embarrassment it currently is.

It's been a whole 5 years since the first Frosties fondue, latest incarnation is here. Another Mr Bob Ski trip to Cervinia / Zermatt, prior to an  xmas/dave-jess wedding in California and NYE in & about NYC.

Have we not been here before, Monsieur? A year ago Frosties was ravaged by drought, caused by the onset of a new job/location and its consequent disorentiation. Back in summer I made the first moves towards a post-Defra "career" move. Lured in by working with such ex-cvg luminaries as Adrian Oxbrow and Graham Morgan, plans of Costa Rica surfdom were usurped by another gig on the GIS rollercoaster (er, slowboat). Just one last hit, just one last gig and I'm outta here. Thames Water ahoy! 

2 months later I find myself taking a commuter train 100 miles each day, the highlight of my morning being grabbing the grub-slinging Metro on the way to the platform. Yes, it's a reverse commute and yes, there's no underground/a clutch of RLR Parcels (fields) on the journey but b'jaysus, how did it end up thus? Reading takes its toll, sinking its grey gums into all aspects of life; social life, London, music downloadage, mornings, evenings and worst of all, that most precious of commodities -- time.

Still, on the plus-side are the ol' contracting wages (outside IR35...taxation at a less hectic pace), the ability to live in a gorgeous flat and I've learnt what an excrement digester is. So I find myself authoring another fictitious "Solution Architecture" a year on from the last one. But, much as I would love a GIT-style reunion, it appears as though the forces of 'offshoring' have caught up with IT/GIS/me. These are strange days of teleconferences +5.5 hours (Hyderabad). Light-saber fights, long lunches, mates and computer games have been replaced by suits, early starts and endless meetings. Owwwwwww.

Compounding this unfortunate set of circumstances has been the demise of the frostiescambattery. Still, a number of snaps exist for the last few; the first of another Green Card Denver trips/Gaylord2004 reunuion,  end of term at Triton Square, consequent Italian holiday schmoopisnaps,   the last ever Denver Green Card trip. Finally a trip oop Norf for Elliott Penn Christening. 

Buone Feste!

The Green Card Permanent Residency thing has rocked up, a mere 5 years after applying ("it'll be 18-24 months", so said the lawyer in those heady Clinton days); another spanner in the wobbling spokes of my turbulent existence. The impact is being dissected by a team of, erm, top immigration attorneys as I hit this very keyboard in the hope of postponing a full-time return to the States for wee while. This was not the week to give up glue-sniffing. 

A mighty thanks to Barrett/Shiv/Sarah for graciously hosting me during this interim period. A mighty farkyou to the elephant herding, well-equipped amateur dentists who reside upstairs. The same goes to the Macarena-loving nightclub whose grooves cause Shiv's windows to reverberate at night. [Advice to Sarah: apply large clumps of plasticine to the frames]

The frostiescam has been acting a bit krook of late, but continues to belt 'em out: a trip to ol' Exeter, Tonks arrives for an extended stay, strolling around London/Air Guitar, Perhaps there has been a larger booze night than the Ljublana-Furness special; but I cannae remember it (no pun intended). A couple of overdue links added. 

Perhaps it's the onset of autumn, perhaps the year anniversary of Blightyness, possibly the lack of vacation. But a change is in the air. Yep, the lucrative London contract is drawing to a close; a year of Esri Noakes, Genesis geezers, former Cvg software development language (parental advisory), Sainsbury's Jacket Potatoes, Regent's Park strolls, Euston Tower Square wind & Pret Sandwiches. The flat lease is over, Baker St has been swapped for Bayswater temporary accom as it's time to consider "Next Steps".

But a dilemma is presenting itself. To continue the moneyed life of stressful city living, or to jack it all in and follow hippy instincts to a blissful existence of exploring personal boundaries? Another gig for ol' Atos Origin is on the cards, with a backup plan of learning to surf/draw in either Costa Rica or, if that pesky Green Card gets in the way, Hawaii. What to do?

August featured some comedy moments including the much fabled strawpedo night, punting/Hampton Court, Frinton & Bambou birthday, trip up to Edinburgh, Arthur's Seat "climb". 

Last month on the Gloucester Place Runway, an end to flashing endless fleets of double-deckers at 8am. Homelessness awaits, or JB's sofa...

A record time away from updating the old website. Haven't been slacking tho'. Time has been spent going to Wimbledon and getting badgered at parties. Glasto pix may easily offend, while the results of a quick trip to Denver were documented in detail.
People often ask is america any good, why go back, why go there in the first place etc. Need you look any more than this email from a friend some time back? Ave it!

email from a concerned friend. u know who u r friends,
Just a little motivation sent to enlighten and
elevate for infinite purpose...
Although what others view as negative avoidable dramatic events, I ponder the influence meant to challenge the success of my life positively and
negatively.
I continually learn who I am, as well as extend myself to a higher state of being.
I am finding myself returning to these experiences, mostly by chance, as a reminder of the work I still need to accomplish. I humbly regret that I have not become all that I want to be.
With a heart large enough to support the world and a charisma that is captured in a picture, I feel the confidence I exude derives from past challenges that have set me back momentarily.
With this in mind, I have made a choice toward the positive, refocus my reactions, opening new doors for inspiration, and directly closing the past.
I am waving goodbye at judgmental underlying expectations of dysfunctional relationships that decrease my energy and set me back from achieving my purpose. I would like to share with the world the gift of my achieved happiness. This peace may help just a few, and like a second in time, it completes a full minute. I have stumbled over rocks set forth in my path, unaware of the fall that would bruise my knees and break my bones. Fortunately I have the healing power to remain strong and pick myself back up in order to trip on another rock, only thanks to insight, I view it as small as a pebble. I do not throw rocks, kick them out of the way, place them in sight of another path, or enlarge them for my advantage.
If anything I stumble more frequently due to the attempt to kick rocks out of the way for others.
So my question is, with all this in mind, how can I justify the scrutiny and undeserving conclusions of negative
judgment I am faced to overcome daily....FAITH!!!! author...

It has been just about 6 packs of peroxide, 201 litres of wine and a couple of thousand pints ( a year, roughly) of Blighty livin' and the contract is up next month. Al Brown left Denver in 2002, the first of an eventual exodus. In (possibly) the same fashion Shannon is off in August. Is she the next canary, or does the arrival of David 'mad4it' Campbell nullify the result? Time to figure out what next. Objectives are being set, with "learning to surf very well" leading the list. The debate is "where?" The answer will depend on the continuing validity of my Green Card. If it's still a goer then Hawaii, otherwise Costa Rica leads the list. Thirtynothing it is, then.

Spent the last couple of weekend killer couple of events, which only living in London can really afford -- Glastonbury and Wimbledon. In true Britstyle, both were hampered by the weather. In the case of the latter, it worked to the advantage (effortlessly breezing onto Court No 1 for the men's' semi-final). Glasto, however, turned into a marathon sludgefest -- 15 hours of standing up (not done since working as a bag-packer for Sainsbury's), dodging the "mud". Lazing around in the sun with beers on the grass turned into an avoid-the-toilet-at-all-costs kinda thang. Thank gawd for the music, which rocked in that Indiewhiteboy way.

He's mad, he's bad, he's, erm, Shiv's roommate: Bazzalives. Overdue player addition.

Weddings & such in Boston/Leeds & a hike to the South Downs/Tim-Rachel engagement boozeup. 

Just took a tube trip back after watching England be dumped out of Euro2004. A group of girls walked by and one stopped to ask, nay threaten "Isn't Beckham shit?" Encouraged by this aggressive quasi-abuse I responded to the Marylebone train station's homeless geez with an authoritative "Don't even start, mate". Trust the Beeb (and 22 years of consistent results) to pull me through. I'm now watching a program about corruption and despair in Nigeria; things are coming slowly into perspective. So, Henman, feel free to crash out in the second round. Glastonbury, let the rain gods spew forth (if the wind ever dips below 40mph). It's all good. 

Pix from mid period London , & the country 

The love affair with footy deepens, as a week today commences the bi-annual Henman-esque quest for soccer greatness (i.e. going to end up in heroic failure, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory). Still, to be back in Europe for such Diana-style outpouring of grief will be superb. Forza Azzurri! (well, one has to have a backup & it could hardly be Les Bleus)

Pix from Soho Boozing, & Greenwich run & luvvin it in Leicester.

Congrats to Giles & Jackie on the latest Penn arrival: Elliott. 

The nest has been invaded, nay inhabited, by KT. Benvuto!

I see ol' Rob Smithson has started up his amoral.org thing, on weblog lines. Not bad but do you really need a job at home? To answer your question about the PennChart, it is a stillborn project from several years ago. Stillborn until last summer, when a band of brothers were going to take it forward seriously. Came up with an architecture and everything. Audioscrobbler beat us there, though, and the only reason I haven't started using it is because it doesn't support my MP3 Player of choice (the wees-on-winamp/wmp RealPlayer).

An update on the weather forecast from last week. Neil has stopped downloading music in the US of Attorneys -- must it really come to this?

 Pix from Camden/Brixton & Selva.

A damp Saturday, huddled together in a Marylebone flat overlooking the traffic as it thunders down Gloucester Place. Cooleditpro downloaded, rudimentary thoughts assembled. ("You need a hobby", as one of the brothers Penn derisively commented). But lo, more laughs than a bag of Camden goodies. A unique child, born from 3 unique muthaz. Where to start? With a desperately unoriginal hodgepodge of Avalanches/FBS aspirations. With regard to the latter I was predisposed to go & nab a copy of the British Hit Singles, and start trawling through Soulseek in order to swell my library with tunes ripe for sampling. Thankfully, someone has taken the tedium out of that job with the wunderbar Easyhit -- vielen Danke, whoever u r.

Pix from more London nights.

While we may console ourselves with climatic tales such as these, weather.com says it all about London...

Even as I get sucked in by a Liverpool loss, a documentary about the excavation of Troy & a Tom Baker-narrated expose' on the travails of a restaurant opening (makes IT seem like a dream), I can't help but say; British telly rocks. Bill Bryson has it right; it's the small things about Britain that make it so special. My commute over the park may not seem overly exciting, but where else do I get to watch bizarro duck-geese things fight it out over their patch of turf (larger than my flat, the blighters)? 

What Mr Bryson didn't have was RyanAir. The ability to escape, for the cost of medium night out, to the Alps/Med. One may not have quite the same climate-based desire to do that in the States but it's just as well 'cos no es possible -- flying in the US of Walmart costs 3x the equivalent of a Sleasyjet sojourn. Wake up, America! I want to come back to $5.99 flights, won on the back of a packet of crisps.

Pix from a weekend in Dublin. All the key ingredients were there; Badger patrols, a class (A) JB vanishing act, pavement pizza and dazed Americans.

How could I have forgotten Aussie all these years?

Having worked through the weekend, losing an insane 70.5 hours to the gods of projectsaviour & moneylust (for the first time since the bad old days of CWIM '99) I am qualified to say; dinnae do it, jimmy. To all people infected with the disease I say; cease & desist. It is debilitating, demoralizing and dehumanizing. Worst of all, there's a sick addiction to it. The first day of release from this hostage situation, I found myself at a loose end, longing for my captors. 11 consecutive days at work has rendered me vegetable-like, a chocoholic quaffing cappuccino topping behind the barrista.

An evening-only frosties piccy update (documenting an American invasion and the return of Ron). Oh, London, you are haunted by the Ash prophecy yet.

Major update to the players list; incorporating the usual wunch of bankers.

The UK is being dragged into the 90s -- Meester Bob has Soulseek, Ron is being made aware of DSL and, whoa, frosties is in the, erm, Old Persean. Whatever next, a corking R'n'Brittrack? 

Long overdue naffo links page. Almost a proper personal website now, innit.

Photographic evidence of the wake caused by Lindsay & her motley croo on their was-it-only-a-week-i-thort-theyd-never-leave trip. Real winter is best served by a short trip to the North East, of course.

After 5 long, protein-deprived months I have discovered Edamamme. Well, Milo, to be exact. I have to get the players thing going again, if only as gratitude for that one act. 

The first evening of Baker Street Boozery has been documented in multi-coloured glory; frosties idiocy is alive & kicking.

Off to a party as a badger (actually, part of a badger patrol. Yes, yes, it's not a honeybadger but I'm trying to blend in) and thereafter onwards to Dublin, where a night of trying to avoid arrest awaits.

Barrett & Shiv have been safely landed & installed into Al/Jane's fantastic flat and the Schlumber, oops, Atos Origin UK HQ atop Tottenham Court Road. As faceless, grey, corporation-mandated anonymous workzones go it does at least have a not-too-shabby location. 

Hecticity from the first Pearl St Reunion caused something of a week-long blackout. Impromptu flat party, strolls across the park into Camden, adventures in tuneless clubland, crashing out at JB's, the usual Boxer Short Barry, 99 pence beers, detox chez Bob, crippling costs of champagne at Tower 42 and a mid-week dawn finish.

Photies from xmas escapades; Karen's birthday, NYE in Tahoe and assorted outtakes.

I have once more chosen volume over quality, getting something out the door over technical purity. Some day I will be punished for not separating content from presentation in this website but right now it's back to basics. Rather than meticulously fix up a bizarrely mixed- up batch of photies (how do digital photos get scattered around your hard-drive in an unsortable fashion?), here are some photies from the October-December timeframe -- Photies from the old country,  more yet (and initial touchdown in UK), Autumnal life, fondue, Halloween, two lots of the JB pubcrawl, and a couple of  jumbled up assorted xmas ones. 

Meanwhile, in other news, the drudgery of doing the architecture part of the project I'm on has drawn to a close. Backup is arriving. About 4 months late and after endless wrangling with SLB/visa places/contracting agencies/INS, the formidable posse of Nixta/Shiv/Barrett are moving to London and joining the project. Barrett, bring the UT disks. We're gonna need 'em. Muhahahaha.

Now that I have a router and a diminishing schedule, frosties stands at least a badger's balls chance of being updated once more. For nights out there have been aplenty, from Double-Oh-Flannery nights in Kensington to Caber tossing in Camden...

Xmas eve, still at work with a major present purchasing trip on the cards. Plus ca change. I've realised that in London there seem to be 3 things people do:

1) Work

2) Booze

3) Rush, by tube/taxi/nightbus between (1) and (2)

Merry xmas/happy nye, any frosties readers still out there. A flat in central London (Marylebone) has been acquired, DSL activated & squillions of photies have been taken; a recipe for the return of frosties if ever there was one. 

Hang on, I've just got to run over to the pub, "Taxi!"...

Some time ago Chris Ash predicted life in London as being flanked by living in an overpriced shoebox on one side and daylight-free, soggy climatic conditions on the other. As water has fallen from the skies for six straight days & I remain on JB's sofa it appears as though Ash was actually talking through his mouth.

Frosties is being held hostage by homelessness. Only a home & DSL is going to restore it to its natural state. I'm not sure if it's a London thing to feel constantly late, rushing from one place to another, but I long for a return to the Caribbean ways of Pearl St. So I've decided to go on the hunt for a flat. $2k/month will get you a flat of 40-odd square meters (!) which may or may not; have natural light, be subterranean, have 5 foot ceilings, be above a curry house. Truly a depressing pursuit, designed to flush the weak out to the suburbs -- where you will get an extra 10 sq meters in exchange for having the life sucked out of you by a head-crushing daily commute. 

No sank u! So the search continues in the W1/NW1 zone of London, preferably close to Regent's Park. The easy life will return, oh yes it shall, doubting Australians.

As I skipped out of Pearl St with no more than a couple of suitcases and my yoga mat on my back, I felt that sense of freedom that comes with losing the shackles of ownership. It was beautiful. I can out-hobo Shiv right now. No fixed abode, none in sight, staying wherever I can. But no more. So thanks to Steph/Bob/Riffy/Hezz/Al/Jane/Shannon/JB for putting me up over this exhausting, illness-inducing month. Having lived in a sunny, people-less state for so long my immunity to lurghy of the blib-blob-bleeb variety has been all but destroyed and I have been consumed by weeks of perpetual sickness. And not just of the physical variety. Watching Kill Bill the other day also sparked a sharp sensation of "home" sickness for America. Damn that Tarantino character.

Having no scanner and having lost my katiecam USB cable, the frosties photy library is currently frozen in time. So I cribbed these pub crawl snaps from Neil & Sean. Just as frosties is entering a slow-down phase, caused by overwork, job-change, country-move and a general lack of scanner/home-based DSL, the competition is breathing down my neck. Hats off to theboylard, ministryofalbrown, a resurgent nixta and even the reheated, refried beans of a site that is tartley. You can all try, but you really can't put a good phoenix-badger of a site down. I vill be back, this ain't no Michael Howard selection.

If anyone is out and about on Friday (10/3) then drag yourself along to Colfax for one final belching contest.

What was the best day of the last 12 months? Layoff day.

Think being laid off in tech is new? Think again. New to unemployment? Fret ye not. Maybe you're just in your early 30s.

Perhaps people felt this harangued when they were leaving London for the countryside in the blitz of 1940. But I doubt it. The pressures of finding another job, moving country & remaining legal in the eyes of the INS/BCIS do not hold a candle to the mammoth operation that is moving out of Pearl St. 

Watched a top notch flic, Thirteen, 'tother day. Absolutely fantastic journey into developing yourself (albeit within the heavy handed context of doing it too young). Such discovery was more like thirty for me. Speaking of youth, a couple of overdue additions to the players page.

Congrats on the engagement, Bitsy! UYA, JB!

Is there anything wrong with stealing other people's photies, only to slyly post them on your own site? Given the impermanence of everyone else's site (Nick's offline for donkey's years, Shiv's GORN, Tartley site hacked by kiddy, Erica GORN etc etc), I think not. In this vein some shots from the last 6 weeks, plus some  black&white shots of the same old same old.

Another cache of photies from university circa '91, including the ponciest set yet discovered -- predating the AshGQ thing by nigh on a decade. 

For a smidgeon over 4 years frosties has been out there, causing congestion on, and generally adding pollution to, the web. It has saught to detail the events of a few eejits in Colorado, with something of an Anglo-Saxon/Commonwealth tint. However, as has happened with another corking Colorado publication, the flighty critic, it seems as if this particular tale is coming to an end. Or so I thought. For, in coming to clear out Pearl St I have discovered a bunch of photies from '91 & '94 which would appear to be the precursors of frosties. Dossy jobs, easy living, manic escapades, noncing around, life as a vacation, excessive wastage & poncing out., From other scradgers.

Just when you think you're flying you get shot down in flames.

"Jeremy" from Right Management (aka layoff outplacement organization) just called me with a kill-myself message, along the lines of
"We understand that you might not want to face up to being jobless, but come in here as soon as possible so we can face up to the tragedy, together. You're not alone, keep hope."

I wish to buy a gun and mow the place down. Probably a typical reaction for which they have an equally sad response.

Jaysus. Is this the point at which I chuck a JB/Shiv, and declare employment to be for the weak of heart? I have one employment possibility. If it happens, it happens & London will be home for a while. If not, then the labour market & I will part ways after 8 mostly amusing years. The surf beaches of Queensland/Indonesia will be the new office, joined by Al Brown & KT.

Upon hearing news of being laid off, there was a part of me which said "I don't believe it". How prescient that turned out to be. The reason was not my undoubted brilliance, nor even the fact that I have a stash of incriminating photos of senior SLB management. Nope, the cause behind receiving 12 phone calls from my former workplace two days later was the fact that the blighters had managed to lay me off while I was in the middle (more the beginning) of a real, live project. And so I blagged my way back into the office for some pseudo-contracting action. Just as well, since former roommates have left enough of their shoddy belongings to Pearl St to give its miserable remaining inhabitants cause to hire a full-time chiropractor. 

Yesterday afternoon things took a turn for the bizarre. Hunched over my desk and contemplating the lack of computer games action since people were axed, I was summoned to the HR office. What had I done now? <anyone adjudicating my unemployment claim can desist reading now> 

"We'd like to unlay you off. Come back to work as an employee." 

"Hmmnn...let me think about that, you want to hire me back because you value me? Because you realized the crazy mistake you made?" Er, no, because you think it may be cheaper that way. A swirl of emotions whipped up around me "Am I crazy?" "Take the severance and run!" "What if you can't find another job?" "It's the last opportunity to leave Denver" "What about learning to surf?" Epiphany: time to prove Nick wrong, I _will_ leave Denver without being fired (although I was fired, but who wasn't?).

So, after some Ash-Tonkin soul seeking, the layoff (& severance) remains and my journey to who-knows-where is underway. Bring it on! Snaps from Blighty, including some of the fabled hottest ever day, as well as some steamy pix from the new stock of JB birds. 

Commencing in December 2000, Convergent Group started downsizing. We had the Van Larson round (idiots only), the Roger Wilde round (eccentrics) in May 2001, and rounds for JB-Stoppenhagen (slackers please) in June 2002, Gurner in October 2002 (bye bye dot com-era hires), Shiv in April 2003 (adios UT stats manglers), Lance June 2003 (hardworkers) and finally Ash-Penn-Mertz-Scott-Steklac 2003 (heroes & CEOs). A company purchased by SLB for $400m in 2001, now worth <$5m, having required several million to keep it afloat in the interim. 450 to 50 employees. An investment blunder of impressive proportions (even by dotcom mistake standards).

So the documented case of the curse of the Vail house has claimed its latest victim: yours truly. 8 years, commencing in GDS, Cambridge in '95, moving onto ArcSystems, Melbourne and EDS, Lakewood before pre-dotcom Convergent Group, post-dotcom Convergent Group and SchlumbergerSema, before Convergent was reformed & finally killed off on 8/25/03.

So layoff Tuesday (always a Tuesday, according to urban psychiatry myth and Cvg experience that is the day people are least likely to go Postal on) commenced with aplomb at Potts. With the laid off outnumbering the remaining Schlumberger employees, an atmosphere of all-day drinking quickly set in. At 330pm a group of us were whisked away in a limo to see Radiohead at Red Rocks amphitheatre. Speeding across the foothills, consuming Absolute Shambles on the way to see a band at the top of their (live) game gave the afternoon a surreal feel. The evening, or what I can remember of it, was a top 3 concert and no mistake.

The sense of euphoria had indeed evaporated by 9am this morning, replaced by a heavy hangover and nagging doubt of "what now?". Naturally, as JB & Shiv can attest, such negativity is greatly assuaged by the powerful effects of the intense Colorado sunshine. Apparently being laid off is meant to cause a rainbow of emotions from ecstasy to insecurity. Anyway, the day has been frittered away trying to rebuild JB's linux machine with Windows. A plan is beginning to be formulated, which will either involve contracting or surfing in Indonesia/Australia. More as it happens. A week ago I said I wanted to buy a pint for this laptop, on which most of frosties was written, scores of lines of code were composed and squillions of tracks downloaded. Adieu, ppenn2. Tu me manqueras. 

Initial reflections on my extended trip to the boozing capital of the world seem to be verified everywhere I turn. Most recently, the Times. In a not so unconscious gesture to justify life in the outdoors, in the week since I've been back I have; swum, played tennis, jogged, bikram yogad, hiked outside Boulder and biked down Keystone mountain. Radiohead at Redrocks tomorrow, and a similarly frenetic week/end lies ahead. 

I don't remember the start/end date of WWII/I, or pretty much any other date in history. 22nd of August 1485, however, sticks out in the mind as a teabag to a bin liner. Where would we be had Henry VII not prevailed that day? What shape would religion have taken, would Blighty have been ruled by the Hun, or (worse still), another couple of centuries of the French? All of which makes the first weekend of trip the majorly historic zone of Market Bosworth (where the devastating Wars of the Roses were concluded) all the poorer for not making it out to the battlefield itself.

I see the RIAA's outrageous attempt to sue the kersquillions of downloaders out there is running into its first (hopefully insuperable) hurdle: the law. In the meantime, like the cowardly dog I am, I've disallowed the "supernode" capability in kazaa and am increasingly turning to the frankly more reliable soulseek. Having paid $50 for a Radiohead ticket, after downloading their album FOC presumably I should be sued on that alone. The 'head will make approximately $20 from my live show ticket, versus the $1 on the album I (never) bought. Logic over. Unfortunately, no matter how many times I listen to the 'thief' album it still seems like utter pants in comparison with the Bends-OK Computer era. But I digress.

Yep, all predictions of England having the usual shoddy summer were obliterated by an insane heatwave. Still gathering my thoughts on the whole affair, so what better shots to display, therefore, than some bollards and dullards from the west coast of North America? 

Just got back from a couple of weeks of Mexico/San Diego, sun & surf blighted only by having to stand in the company booth for the ESRI conference and confront the nerds. Proof, as if it were needed, to jump ship from IT. The only interest we had was from Indian IT shops sending their scouts around soliciting us for work. Luckily we have no projects anyway.

Denver has been wretchedly, relentlessly hot. The choice not to get air conditioning has proved as wise as Schlumberger's efforts to get into the IT business in North America. How apropos, perhaps*, that I should be about to head back to what will undoubtedly prove to be the wettest August on record in ol Blighty. Yes indeedy, a month or so in Regent's Park is on the 

Something of a backlog building up, but in spite of that here are some shots of a Wash Park picnic, as well as some more quality photies of a brief trip to England. Meant to post something in the height of Wimbledon but time did not allow. Also wanted to discuss "staring at the fragility of life & the precipice of death from the sinking ruins of a burst inner tube" but perhaps that says it all. No photies were recorded, little but adrenaline-soaked horror as Kelly & I fought for our lives in the snow-melt of a raging river while Seanie laughed on. Made for something of a corker of an evening out. These, it could be argued, are the days of our lives.

Watching the telly at midnight -- a distinctly unAmerican time, perhaps -- the Craig Kilburn show comes on. Old Kilbers is actually the most sarcastic chap on telly. He's interviewing equally dry, wry Dennis Miller. The topic turns to sport, and the topic of the Lakers comes up. Not only do I not know whether they are basketball/baseball/football/hockey, I care not. Today HENMAN scammed his way into the quarter-finals of Wimbledon. Go Timbo! In a homogenized, 'globalized', Starbucks spewing, web-wide world it appears as if sports continues to stir up feelings of affinity for Blighty like little else. Wey-aye!

* purely for the pomposity factor, Nickles