I think... No, I know today has been a good one.
To save time, let's get the traditional 'Fuck's sake H-R, don't you know anything?' statement out of the way: So. I gravely underestimate the impact I have on the universe. There's also some side-rambling about the interconnectedness of all things, how one can't fight one's genes and why it's best to make that a good thing, but that can wait. Or indeed I can forget to write about it.
Anyway. Belted to Milton-Friedman-Maynard-Keynes, world centre of infernal geography and twatty driving, for tea, arm-waving and shoe-fondling. My original 'plan' was to go view the Cardington airship sheds, but it transpired that they're mostly closed to the public since they're filled with airships and test housing, so we went to Bletchley Park instead. For maximal entertainment value, we forced
sushidog into the back of the car at cake-point as well.
I'm not much of a one for 'plans'. It seems to me that the more one plans something, the more the likelihood of something going terribly wrong tends toward one. I am happiest when able to go cheerfully and near-randomly with naught but a good car and a functional credit-card to guide me. If that sounds like an unfamiliar JH-R, then you've probably only met the unhappy one. Happy-go-lucky with a known-working backup and steel-cored resolve that things will go well.
Meanwhile, back in Bletchley...
... There'd been mithering elsewhere that the place wasn't worth the money and it was all terrible and the computer exhibits were shite.
Well, fuck that.
The place is... Look, without wishing to get mystical or sound like a twat or anything, it's the spiritual centre of hacking. If you don't wander into the mansion and immediately get hit by a sense of history, continuity and of being at home, then you are Not One Of Us and you're wasting your time. I was wandering from room to room, grinning like an idiot and bathing in the cluon flux. If you're desperate, you can wander off to one of the far blocks where they've got a set of shonky old computers ranged on school benches, but I've worked on Superbrains and old Apples and 380Zs and TVI CP/M boxes. They were shit then and they're shit now. 10 PRINT "dave is ace" 20 GOTO 10. It was just like being in Cheltenham WH Smiths in 1982. The half-built Bombe in the corner was much more fun to look at, as was the PDP, LSI-11 and HP 3000 cordoned off in the other corner. Can't have the terrible public lifting bits of the only interesting kit in the room.
Meanwhile, out the back of the NAAFI...
... It felt like something halfway between Portmerion and Labs. It felt like home.
Walking into the Royal Oak in Gretton felt like a daft idea. On the other hand, there was Dave, Chainsaw Ed Price looking like I was the last person he expected to see and Rob (ex guru and spiritual mentor, though he'd laugh and demand beer if I said that out loud) smirking from the bar like he expected all this to happen. I'm not the sort of person to have A Past. I have a set of randomly interconnected Presents that aren't obviously contiguous.
Tired now. I would just like to thank my co-conspirators,
sushidog,
aoakley,
red_mel and
girfan for accompanying me on that path of cake, shoes, enlightenment, time-travel, beer and cluons.
To save time, let's get the traditional 'Fuck's sake H-R, don't you know anything?' statement out of the way: So. I gravely underestimate the impact I have on the universe. There's also some side-rambling about the interconnectedness of all things, how one can't fight one's genes and why it's best to make that a good thing, but that can wait. Or indeed I can forget to write about it.
Anyway. Belted to Milton-Friedman-Maynard-Keynes, world centre of infernal geography and twatty driving, for tea, arm-waving and shoe-fondling. My original 'plan' was to go view the Cardington airship sheds, but it transpired that they're mostly closed to the public since they're filled with airships and test housing, so we went to Bletchley Park instead. For maximal entertainment value, we forced
I'm not much of a one for 'plans'. It seems to me that the more one plans something, the more the likelihood of something going terribly wrong tends toward one. I am happiest when able to go cheerfully and near-randomly with naught but a good car and a functional credit-card to guide me. If that sounds like an unfamiliar JH-R, then you've probably only met the unhappy one. Happy-go-lucky with a known-working backup and steel-cored resolve that things will go well.
Meanwhile, back in Bletchley...
... There'd been mithering elsewhere that the place wasn't worth the money and it was all terrible and the computer exhibits were shite.
Well, fuck that.
The place is... Look, without wishing to get mystical or sound like a twat or anything, it's the spiritual centre of hacking. If you don't wander into the mansion and immediately get hit by a sense of history, continuity and of being at home, then you are Not One Of Us and you're wasting your time. I was wandering from room to room, grinning like an idiot and bathing in the cluon flux. If you're desperate, you can wander off to one of the far blocks where they've got a set of shonky old computers ranged on school benches, but I've worked on Superbrains and old Apples and 380Zs and TVI CP/M boxes. They were shit then and they're shit now. 10 PRINT "dave is ace" 20 GOTO 10. It was just like being in Cheltenham WH Smiths in 1982. The half-built Bombe in the corner was much more fun to look at, as was the PDP, LSI-11 and HP 3000 cordoned off in the other corner. Can't have the terrible public lifting bits of the only interesting kit in the room.
Meanwhile, out the back of the NAAFI...
... It felt like something halfway between Portmerion and Labs. It felt like home.
Walking into the Royal Oak in Gretton felt like a daft idea. On the other hand, there was Dave, Chainsaw Ed Price looking like I was the last person he expected to see and Rob (ex guru and spiritual mentor, though he'd laugh and demand beer if I said that out loud) smirking from the bar like he expected all this to happen. I'm not the sort of person to have A Past. I have a set of randomly interconnected Presents that aren't obviously contiguous.
Tired now. I would just like to thank my co-conspirators,