Letter from America

The Big Wall of "Why?"

2011-05-20T13:31:00.000-07:00

I submit for your consideration - The Big Wall of "Why?"

We all love a good rant from time to time. It's cathartic. The most impassioned rants tend to be born of truly knowing a problem and its causes. Unfortunately, verbal rants are ephemeral. They go in one ear and out the other. Even if they were to be recorded or written down, they're not really accessible for a wide audience to consider. They they carry too much detail.

It struck me that many folks in our organization held vital knowledge which just never quite crossed the threshold into common knowledge because of difficulty in articulating and socializing the information. As a result, the information tends not to be taken into account when forming organizational strategies.

One day, about 6 weeks ago, I was listening to a colleague's rant about our build processes. It was like drinking from a fire hose. As I strained to listen, I could tell that he was supplying important details, but I couldn't quite parse it all into my understanding quickly enough. I grabbed a deck of Postit sticky notes and stopped him in mid-flow. Thinking of tweets and Haiku, I tried to summarize his current point on a sticky, since the size of the sticky would force us to really get to the essence of his problem. I put it on a board. I then asked him "Why?" He gave me that answer to that and I summarized it on a second sticky. Pretty soon, we'd got to the end of his chain of reasoning. I could tell he looked visibly relieved that someone else had "got it".

I left the board up in a corridor along with instructions (which I've rephrased below) so that passers by could contribute:

1. Grab a pink sticky, write something that is making your job hard.
2. Grab a yellow stick, write "Why?", include an arrow.
Repeat steps 1 and 2 until you run out of pink stickies, or complications.

Grab a purple sticky if you want to challenge whether a complication you see written on a pink sticky is still true. This signals that we might be able to unravel that particular chain of misery.

Grab a green sticky in case you know of a candidate solution to a complication written on a pink sticky.

The anonymity of the stickies and the accessibility of the format really seemed to catch on. The size constraints of the stickies forced concise descriptions of the complications. Every time I walked past the board there were more stickies, describing more issues and their causes.

Tantalizingly, we also started to see purple stickies challenging whether complications were still true and green stickies proposing solutions that would collapse these chains of blocking complications. Over time, you could see the organization discover, debate and form consensus on our main problems, their common causes and possible solutions. We even started to see additional norms develop, for example the use of blue stickies denoting JUMP and LABEL for linking stickies in different parts of the board.

Since erecting the Big Wall of "Why?" I've showed it to a number of friends who all seemed to like the idea. Why not give it a try in your organization? I'd be interested in hearing how it turned out for you and what you learned that you didn't expect.

Delivering a Call to Arms in the Toilet Cubicle

2011-05-02T17:21:00.000-07:00

In late December last year, I moved from finance IT into retail IT for the first time in 10 years. One of the first things I wanted to do in my new role was to give a flavour of how I saw the importance of tests in software development. Given the issues with attention span and signal to noise ratios on office emails, I decided to post the following notice in the toilet cubicles of all our development offices....

A Call to Arms

We need a change. A change in the way we approach test code. Test code is just as important as the code we release to production. It's really meta-code, in that it's code that describes the behavior of production code. It has the power to either constrain or free the evolution of the production code. It dominates the architecture.

For example, how often have you seen a piece of production legacy code where everyone knows how it 'should' be written, but can't take on the refactoring work because the tests don't adequately verify expected behavior? The refactoring gets left because it would simply carry too much risk. And this is just one way in which poor or missing tests impact not only upon the correctness of the system, but its ability to change.

Anyone who's been developing for 10 years or more will have come across a number of instances where systems are replaced with functionally equivalent yet more (scalable, secure, insert your architectural dimension here) solutions. If you have come across this, now might be an appropriate time to pause for a minute and consider exactly what prevented the original system from evolving to accept these new architectural or functional requirements. With the exception of replacement of vendor products, it's most likely that it's down to an inability of the current codebase to adapt to the new architectural constraints or functional requirements.

Many architects concern themselves with scalability of a particular system architecture and may only give a passing nod towards the importance of tests. There's a certain irony to this, since there are natural limits to how well any particular system architecture will scale. Only through tests that adequately describe the functional requirements and architectural constraints will we have the necessary safety net to truly respond to scale by evolving the production architecture itself.

In short, test code matters. It really matters. It matters in a way that makes the production code seem almost trivial and replaceable. And that's a Good Thing since it means we can respond to change. I want us to start giving some real care to the unit and functional tests, just as we currently do with the code that will be deployed to production.

So, as you leave this cubicle and go back to your desk, I would ask two things of you:

1. Wash your hands

2. Shift your perspective on the relative importance of test code.

Interested in hearing more and shaping the software we create?

Search the wiki for Software Craftsmanship and come join our Community of Practice.

Continuous Delivery and Marginal Consumption

2011-03-08T11:42:00.000-08:00

I've recently been reflecting on the similarities between the concept in Economics of charging at the margin of consumption and continuous delivery in software. In particular, I've been thinking about them in terms of the effect each has on the promotion of socially responsible behaviour.

For example, in your college years you probably recall parties for which entry tickets were expensive but that once admitted, all drinks were free. People who went to these things didn't consider behaving in a socially responsible way because the system of incentives motivated them to drink too much. After all, you've got to get your money's worth and the delayed nature of the consequences mean that the hangover is not at the forefront of your mind. If instead, the ticket for the party were free and each drink was individually purchased at the full market rate, this charging at the margin of consumption produces a system of incentives which yield more socially responsible behaviour. There's no longer the feeling among participants that there's a free lunch (or drink) to be gamed.

The parallels with continuous delivery are quite striking. Just as party-goers to the 'all you can drink' party don't focus on the delayed consequences of irresponsible consumption, developers in a software organization which delays the production deployment of code don't focus on the delayed consequences of inadequate testing or other expedient measures in the development of software. This problem is easily compounded in cases where the traceability of those bugs is difficult. This is akin to nobody being able to tell who was responsible for the pools of sick in the morning.

Two Dogs

2009-03-30T20:24:00.001-07:00

Two Dogs
Originally uploaded by Stuart Blair

Got some of Lachlan's paintings home from the nursery. Is it just me that can see two dogs humping here?

Struan Blair Arrives Early!

2009-03-14T23:45:00.002-07:00

P3140009.JPG
Originally uploaded by Stuart Blair

Pamela and I are delighted to announce the birth of our second child, Struan. Weighing in at 8lbs, 2oz and 21 inches tall. He came just over a week earlier than we were expecting and consequently, we haven't yet settled on a middle name yet. He's lovely.

See the flickr site for more photos.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/stuartblair/sets/72157615217163611/

It was a bit of a surprise for us how quick it all happened. At 10:00am Pamela wasn't even feeling any contractions. By 12:45pm we had another son.

He came so quickly that they didn't get the time to administer any form of pain relief. To celebrate both the birth of our second child and the end of her gestational diabetes, I brought her in a huge bit of chocolate cake. Mother and baby are both doing well and will hopefully be home tomorrow.

Toes up the nose

2009-03-01T12:19:00.002-08:00

Lachlan has just invented a new game which involves him taking his socks off, sitting in my lap, swiveling round and jamming one of his toes up my nostril, while gleefully singing "Toes up the Nose!"

Not that I want to go all Victorian Dad all of a sudden, but it does make you wonder what happened to respect for ones parents.

My Buttons

2008-12-04T09:23:00.000-08:00

You know how after a while you just get used to seeing homeless people in San Francisco? It just gets to the point where it no longer shocks. Coming out of the Bart this morning I saw a Mum and her toddler with a note saying "Please help - stranded and homeless". Beside them were a couple of bags with all their worldly belongings in it. I could see a tonka truck poking out the top and the wee boy was playing with his crayons.

This pressed my buttons in a big way. I had $10 in my wallet so I went over and gave it to the Mum. I consoled myself thinking that considering the volume of passing pedestrians and how shocking her predicament was she'd probably have $300 by lunchtime.

It's funny how identifying with someone entirely changes your viewpoint and response. It's like when they show pictures of toddlers crying on telly. You feel ill if you don't do something about it.

Delighted to announce.....

2008-08-29T07:55:00.001-07:00

announcement
Originally uploaded by Stuart Blair

Pamela and I are delighted to announce we're expecting a wee brother/sister for Lachlan in late March 2009. Here we go again!

Deja Vu

2008-04-05T21:07:00.001-07:00

P3300020.JPG
Originally uploaded by Stuart Blair

Same bench in Sausalito 3 years on from when we last visited and wouldn't you know it, there's the same guy we posted a blog entry about. Again, spreading the love with his dog - 'Caji Dog' dressed up and singing for the bemused passing masses.

We stopped and chatted and wouldn't you know it, but he's got a web page: http://www.gratefuldogproductions.com/

Surfing at Bolinas, CA

2008-04-05T21:01:00.001-07:00

P3300014.JPG
Originally uploaded by Stuart Blair

Oh come all and bask in my gnarly wave-catching abilities. Or maybe not. Pictured here is my most successful attempt when I managed to get up on my knees before being thrown off the board. Maybe I'll stick to sailing. I was also told by my colleagues (after I'd been surfing) that the sharks spawn just up the coast from here. Oops.

Painting Eggs

2008-03-23T21:47:00.001-07:00

P3230039.JPG
Originally uploaded by Stuart Blair

Since this was to be the first Easter Sunday that Lachlan would be able to roll an egg down a hill, we boiled some up and stopped by a shop for some markers to paint the eggs on our way up to Golden Gate Park. Lachlan was sleeping in his car seat, so we decided to have a go at painting ours while had a nap.

Pamela was in the front passenger seat while Heather was in the back with Lachlan. Neither could see what the other was painting on their egg, but once they were put together. See the middle two eggs. Pamela's is on the left and Heather's is on the right... Super creepy isn't it. Even the choices of colours is the same. I'll bet they have their own language that they only use in each others' presence.

I also liked Lachlan's impressionist egg.

I ♥ San Francisco

2008-03-11T19:59:00.005-07:00

Sorry for being so quiet. We've had quite a rollercoaster ride in the past couple of weeks. We've signed the lease on a house in Walnut Creek which looks like something from the set of Desparate Housewives, we've done battle with the department of Social Security to get numbers, we've got US bank accounts, credit cards and cell phones. I've also started work and it looks like I'm going to have a really good time here.

So, in words and pictures, here's why living and working in San Francisco and the East Bay rocks:

The people are genuinely interesting and are genuinely interested in what you have to say.

The culture is one in which personalities don't compete, but ideas do.

There's no gung-ho work til you drop attitudes or cowboy coding, rather it's about working smarter and recognising that you're doing yourself and your team a disservice by burning the candle at both ends.

What the locals consider to be a 'Storm' would be interpreted as a bit of a wet day in Scotland.

I've yet to see graffiti, a dog turd, phlegm or broken glass on any pavement. You can actually just look straight ahead and enjoy the view.

It's a myth that you can't get decent cheese or alcohol free beer here.

The food is plentiful, cheap and very good.

Petrol is laughably cheap compared to the UK, but despite this, there's still a great deal of interest in recycling and the use of hybrids.

The sailing waters in San Francisco bay look amazing.

This is winter -

More pics at http://www.flickr.com/photos/stuartblair/

So long and thanks for all the fish

2008-01-11T15:10:00.000-08:00

After 5 years at JPMorgan, it's time to move on.

I've accepted a position at another financial institution in San Francisco. I'm really looking forward to the new job and our family's new life in California.

My decision to leave Morgan's is tinged with sadness, as I'm leaving behind an XP team of talented developers that I really respect, each of whom crossed from colleague to friend a long time ago. I'll miss you guys. Stay in touch.

It seems that every time something 'big' happens that I'm not used to, I become a prolific blogger. Given what's due to come up in the next couple of months I'm expecting to make quite a few posts. My new firm has laid on a fairly comprehensive relocation package, so an awful lot of the hassle has already been dealt with by someone else. Even so, I expect there's going to be some blog-inspiring stuff.

We finally got married!

2007-11-25T13:07:00.000-08:00

Pamela and I finally tied the knot.

More pictures are on our Flickr account - http://www.flickr.com/photos/stuartblair/

Wee Me

2007-07-08T13:18:00.001-07:00

Lachlan at Jacqueline and Simon's Wedding

2007-05-28T15:25:00.000-07:00

First tooth and storytime

2007-05-08T13:35:00.000-07:00

More Lachlan Pics

2007-04-04T15:16:00.000-07:00

It's been a while. He's getting bigger and cuter....

Cuddles for Mummy

2006-12-22T01:11:00.000-08:00

Lachlan goes for a cuddle, then conks out on his Mummy.

Visiting folks

2006-12-14T13:40:00.000-08:00

Visiting folks. Shown here with Aunty Heather and Great Aunt Catherine and Great Uncle Colin.

Santa's little helper

2006-11-28T12:27:00.000-08:00

Lachlan Comes Home

2006-11-20T09:25:00.000-08:00

Lachlan came home from the hospital last night. Here he is with his Uncle David and Aunty Dawn, Uncle Iain and Aunty Jenny, and his Gradad Bill.

Lachlan meets his family

2006-11-18T09:41:00.000-08:00

Lachlan gets a visit from Gran and Grampa Blair, Granny Ro-Ro, Aunty Heather, Mummy and Daddy.

Lachlan Graeme Blair was born today

2006-11-16T14:12:00.000-08:00

Our son Lachlan Graeme Blair was born this morning at 10:05 weighing just a shade under 10lbs. He's wonderful. We're chuffed, but tired.

Hi-res scan of the baby

2006-08-15T13:20:00.000-07:00

Since some relatives have asked to be kept in the dark about the sex of the baby, I can't tell you here.

Yay - that's our ******!

Riding Hippos

2006-06-27T20:58:00.000-07:00

This takes the prize for the best tour around Toronto. An amphibious tourbus called a Hippobus that takes you round the city centre and then out onto lake Ontario. It's like public transport meets James Bond.

CN Tower is 30

2006-06-27T20:40:00.000-07:00

The CN Tower was in the midst of it's 30th anniversary celebrations when we went to visit it. At the time, it was serving as a borstal for some of the worlds worst behaved children. Despite this, the view from the top was great.

The glass floor is creepy.

River Trip - Day 2

2006-06-26T17:38:00.000-07:00

Starting off on the second day, it became clear that we should really have put the suncream on the previous day. Oww. As I type this up, I'm nursing the mother of all sunburns on my feet. Pamela managed to escape with only a slight burn on her wrists.

There were some really huge insects flying about. Some were just really big dragonflies, others we had no idea about, but this one looked like a 3 inch long helicopter when it flew.

Paisley being such a small place, there wasn't anywhere open on the Sunday to buy sandwiches for lunch, so we stopped in at the riverbank for 20 mins for a lovely lunch consisting of warm bottled water and cheetos. mmmm.

Incidentally, going down rapids is not something you can do while attempting to take photos. They are sometimes quite shallow though, so you can be moving along quite quickly and then ground. It's at that point that you need to get out of the canoe and push.

We were told to expect the trip to take 6 hours. On the strength of how long the trip had taken yesterday, it seemed like it might only take 4 1/2 to 5 hours.

The trip ended up taking 1 1/2 hours more than we were told, 2 1/2 hours more than we'd planned, and 3 1/2 hours more than either of us could be arsed with. Our finishing point was Denny's Dam at Southampton. For the last 14 bends in the river, we were both expecting to see the Dam. It was not to be. Then the wind piped up and it didn't seem like the downstream current was really able to fight it. I threw a marshmallow overboard and watched it get swept downstream as the wind pushed us upstream. Bugger. By this point, it was 4:15 and we'd been paddling in the hot sun since 10 that morning. We paddled over to the bank and collapsed in the grass for a rest. Thankfully, the dam eventually drifted into view not too long afterwards. When we got back to the rental company, they said that 1 1/2 hours over was nothing. A couple the previous day had taken 3 hours over the expected 6. Exhausted, we found a restaurant and ate our own bodyweights in food. Then we drove back to Toronto. While the canoeing itself was good fun, the second day was a little too long.

River Trip - Day 1

2006-06-26T17:31:00.000-07:00

A long, river stretching for miles through wilderness and patches of farmland. Yet somehow Pamela didn't think that me whistling "Duelling Banjos" was terribly funny.

This was the first leg of the journey that took us down from near Walkerton to Paisley. They told us it would take about 4 hours. In the end, it took only 2 1/2 hours. As with Southampton, Paisley was nothing like Paisley. No neds, no knives and certainly not the kind of place where the kids mug mall santas. Instead it turned out to be a lovely little village with friendly locals who grew even friendlier when you told them you were from Scotland. The guesthouse was a very odd affair, with a taste in decor I hadn't seen since my Gran Blair's place. Very dark rooms with dark furniture, dark wallpaper, ornate designs and with a faint smell of mothballs hanging in the air. They even had the knitted toilet seat covers and knitted toilet roll covers.
For such a remote place with so little passing trade, the shop owners seemed reluctant to take money. We were given freebie maps and bars of homemade soaps. You got the feeling that they were running the stores as a hobby and that the money side of things was an unecessary and discourteous intrusion into the process of meeting strangers, chatting to them and giving them your goods. We eventually managed to purchase a souvenir and after a good night's sleep headed on down the river.

Southampton is not like Southampton

2006-06-26T16:46:00.000-07:00

In all, it took us 3 attempts over a 2 hour period just to leave the city limits of Toronto. The 16 lane 400 series highways are simply baffling. The next 4 hours of driving up to Southampton on the shores of Lake Huron passed without any further problems.

Other than the proximity to water, Southampton Ontartio bears absolutely no relation to Southampton England. Small, spotlessly clean, friendly and situtated in some incredible scenery, it set something of a trend for places named after Scottish and English towns.

Our stay at the Solomon Knetchel guesthouse was really nice. If you're in this bit of Ontario, I can highly recommend it.
The place has been restored to its original condition as it would have been in the late 1800s. The breakfast of organic homemade pancakes with maple syrup and fresh locally harvested strawberries was out of this world.

The sunsets in Southampton are apparently world renowned, so I got some photos along with the rather oddly shaped lighthouse common to the Bruce peninsula.

My BadAss Gangsta Pimpmobile Rental Car

2006-06-26T16:26:00.000-07:00

We had hired a car for our trip up to Lake Huron. When I'd booked it, I couldn't choose a specific model, just a classsification. How often do you go on holiday? Might as well choose the luxury category. We ended up with a car called a Lincoln Zephyr - a 3 litre V6 pimpmobile. The car was really luxurious, extraordinarily fast, and yet had worrying hints that its target market was with the type of owner who might find himself trussed up and bundled into the boot. This was confirmed by the little tag on the inside of the boot hinting that if you find yourself in such a position, all you need do is pull the tab and spring to freedom.

I've been round the rest of the car, but have been unable to locate a similar plastic pulltab which depicts the gun battle retribution for having been locked in your own boot.

Niagara Falls

2006-06-21T17:52:00.000-07:00

We took a trip down to Niagara Falls today. It was stunning. After a trip around the park and escarpment of the falls, we took a trip on the Maid of the Mist.

After paying for the hellicopter ride, we were then ushuered into a section of the
helipad where it became clear that a worryingly high proportion of the aircrew and groundstaff were wearing plastercasts. Hmm. How did they end up breaking their various limbs? Ah well, we've already paid for the trip now.

The search for the Ultimate Breakfast is at an end

2006-06-20T12:07:00.000-07:00

One of the things I'd really been looking forward to on this holiday was the big cooked breakfasts.

I feel priviliged indeed to have consumned the best cooked breakfast of all time. This consisted of own-recipe baked beans, 3 sausages, 3 soft-poached eggs, homefries, pea-meal bacon, fried tomato, pancake and maple syrup with freshly squeezed orange juice and coffee. Truly, Over Easy on Yonge Street is the Valhalla of cooked breakfasts.

Like finding a Jedi master in a swamp-infested planet, it comes as a surprise to find food like this from the tiny, unassuming shop front.

I've spent the rest of the day wandering round, unsure of whether I actually ate the food or just dreamt about it.

US annexes Canada

2006-06-17T17:06:00.000-07:00

We've just got into the hotel on the shores of Lake Ontario, Toronto at the start of our 2 week holiday in Canada. Oddly, we ended up coming to Canada via Chicago O'Hare from Glasgow. As such, we had to go through both US and Canadian customs forms handed out by the American Airlines staff.

The Canadian forms were really straight forward. The US forms were really straight forward. However, I found the US customs staff fascinating. While filling in the form, I left the section titled "US Street Address" blank, since I was going to be staying in Toronto. Even with my poor knowledge of geography, I know that Toronto is in Canada. It's not something I like to brag about, since this is the kind of knowledge you'd expect most 10 year olds to have.

When I pointed out to the US customs official the reason why I'd left this blank they gave me the same kind of look you'd get if you were to explain quantum physics to a dog. They could tell that the words were in English, they knew when you'd finished speaking, but they were just not getting the point. After a protracted blank look, they again bleated, "you need to place the US street address of the hotel you're staying in here." So sure was he in his position, it almost got me wondering whether the US had in fact annexed Canada during our time across the Atlantic.

Having arrived, I'm glad to say that's not the case.

We're going to be parents!

2006-06-10T15:07:00.000-07:00

Believe me, alot has happened since my last post about the car crash, but this is the first thing that's really prompted me to blog again. I'm going to be a Dad!

This is either Eilidh or Lachlan. We don't know yet, since the hospital have a policy of not revealing the sex at the scan.

Impromptu off-roading

2005-11-28T08:04:00.000-08:00

Had a bit of an accident on Saturday night. Twisty road, plunging ravine, black ice on what turned out to be an ungritted road. It wasn't going to end happily.

I was giving my friend Jamie a lift back to Lanark after his birthday curry. We were on the road that takes you over Cartland Bridge and went round a (not particularly sharp) bend at 45mph. All of a sudden, the back end of the car started to swing out. I tried to steer out of it but over-corrected and spun the car before travelling up the embankment. The car then rolled over on the way back down the embankment, coming to a rest on it's side in the middle of the road.

Discovering that the reason Jamie sounded a bit muffled was because my left ear was full of blood was alarming to say the least. With the adrenaline pumping away like crazy, I had what I consider to be my finest "blond moment" of the year. The car was lying on the drivers side. I needed to get out. I tried to open the drivers side door. (Doh)

Jamie managed to open his door and we climbed out over the door and down the roof onto the road. Since we were in the middle of the road just on from a bend, I ran up the road to try and flag approaching cars down and stop them from smashing into the car. I got my mobile and incoherently burbled out that I'd crashed my car. It struck me that I'd actually no idea where I was. Fortunately, a kind lady took my blood-soaked mobile phone from me and - holding the dripping appliance some inches from her ear - arranged with the operator for the emergency services to attend.

The thing that surprised me was that when the police arrived on the scene, they interviewed me, but didn't breathalyse me. I'm tee total anyway, but things started to make a bit more sense when they mentioned that this was an accident blackspot. Immediately after this, a gritting lorry passed us. It was all I could do to restrain myself from shouting "It's a bit f*cking late, now!" With the ambulance arriving, Jamie and I were packed off to the A&E ward at Wishaw General and I managed to phone Pamela to let her know I was ok.

Having a friend hospitalised with you is an excellent option and one I can thoroughly recommend as a means of relieving the tedium that accompanies a 5 hour wait in an A&E ward. We're pictured here looking quite spry and lively. This was us at the stage where the adrenalin was still in effect and we were high-fiving each other for having retained all our limbs. Truly. Honda motors, if you're reading this, Jamie and I owe you our lives.

Ahead of us in the line were an old couple. The woman appeared to have a corn-on-the-cob fork sticking out of in her ankle. We pondered how on earth one would manage such a feat. The best we could come up with was that after about 20 years of marriage, they decided to liven things up by consulting a Women's Institute pamphlet on sadomasochism using jumble sale goods.

Some time later, we were entertained by a man with half an ear and a D.I.Y. cross tattoo between his eyes who kept addressing me as God. The missing front teeth with remaining incisors gave the impression of an alcoholic vampire. These afflictions appeared to be old ones, and it wasn't clear what mission the Gods of Buckfast had tasked him with that had brought him to hospital. Many of you will be wondering why there is no photo of this nutcase. Trust me. I wanted to, but by this time, the hospital staff had made it quite clear that the use of phones in the hospital was prohibited.

Having metal staples put in your head is very sore. I now have 6 of them holding a laceration in my scalp together.

When I was finally discharged from hospital, I called a cab to take me home so I could get some sleep. Sadly, insomnia beckoned.

Sleep hasn't been that comforting, since every time I close my eyes, the events of the crash are being projected onto the back of my eyelids. So far, in my own head-cinema, I've seen the crash more times than I've seen Star Wars Episode 4. As anyone of my generation will tell you, that's an awful lot of repeat viewings.

I woke up to an answering machine message from my elder brother consisting of him singing a few bars of the theme tune to "The Fall Guy" and laughing.

Getting my personal effects from the car wreck necessitated a trip to Carnwath where the car had been recovered to. The garage was called Gormleys, though I now pronounce it 'Gormless' owing to the attitude of the staff. My Dad had kindly driven all the way from Kirkcaldy to help out and was getting quite animated with the mouth-breathing yocal mechanics, and their belligerence. This worried me. Something about their eyes being so close together told me they had human-skin coats at home. In an attempt to escape for their lunch and leave us standing in the snow, they came up with a number of strange excuses including:

We had no right to drive into their garage car park.
I couldn't pick up my property because I didn't have the name of the woman I talked to on the phone.
They didn't know when they'd be back from lunch.

This last one doesn't seem like a reasonable statement until you put yourself in their position. After all, how long would it take to put on a lottery line, skin a human, and marry your sister? Too many variables.

I'm reliably informed that my car has now been transported back into the land of the five-fingered and is awaiting assessment. Though with bent roof pillars, it's not looking too good.

Pamela has been looking for signs of strange behaviour as per the "so you've had a head-wound" pamphlet from the hospital. So far, it's just been the odd mild headache, bouts of insomnia, and falling asleep in the middle of the day.

Fitness through narcissism and stop-motion photography

2005-11-08T13:58:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago, Pamela happened to grab an inch or so of my you're-not-in-your-20's-anymore overhang. With my flab pinched between her fingers and palm, she playfully reminded me that although I was turning into a tubby bitch, I was still her tubby bitch.

The sentiment of the occasion was somehow lost on me and I resolved to join a gym and attend regularly. Pamela beamed in disbelief, and this spurred me on to say, "and you're joining with me". Her smile dissolved.

We're now into our 3rd week of our gym going - Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays from 6:40-8:40 split between cardiovascular and weights. It's been likened to the kind of exercise that caged hamsters are subjected to. However, with the exception of Sailing, I detest all sports, and so it looks like this is my only option to prevent further decline.

Maybe it's that we'd been to see Wallace and Gromit the movie, or maybe it was because the personal trainer said we'd definitely notice a difference in 6 weeks, but in a fit of narcissism, I decided to produce a stop-motion movie of me losing the flab and actually getting some muscle tone. So far I've only got a few frames, but the results look like a hairy version of the sledgehammer video.

Back safe and sound

2005-09-13T14:06:00.000-07:00

We arrived back safe and sound in Scotland yesterday. Our plane got in at 9:05 am local time after a sleepless, but otherwise comfortable flight from Chicago. Even the in-flight movies were good. The huge surprise was that our bags were there to meet us. A bit ripped and with hand-written baggage routing tags, but in Scotland and intact.

Today at work has been a little tiring. I forgot that jet lag would be this bad.

Dude, where's my bag?

2005-09-10T21:18:00.000-07:00

As I write this, we should be somewhere over the Atlantic heading for home. We're not. Instead, our travel plans have been shunted 24 hours out and I find myself pissed-off and stranded in Chicago without any clean clothes.

The day started somewhat earlier than the 5:20AM alarm call I'd asked for. At 4:30AM, I was woken when two strangers walked straight into our room, yelled "Oh man, this is retarded" and closed the door again. Was it a bad dream. Too much cheese before bed? Nope. It seems that the hotel receptionist had given card keys for our room to two arriving guests. In retrospect, I should have taken this as a portent of thngs to come.

At the BART station, I put in my credit card as usual to buy some tickets. As it was the end of the holiday, I'd only got about $10 left in actual cash. I got that nasty "I'm so boned" feeling when the machine rejected my card and told me to talk to my bank. Odd and worrying since I still had another £2000 to go before I got near my credit limit. Forking out the cash for the tickets from my meagre reserves, we caught the BART to Oakland airport and resolved to sort out the mastercard problem when we got there. It wasn't that simple. The number for mastercard customer services is in the UK. It's an international call. You can't make an international call from the payphones without a working credit card. Wait a minute, didn't Captain Kirk use this kind of puzzle to blow up foxy robot women?

Reaching further into the (now really small) cash reserves, I got some breakfast in the airport. This provided minor comic relief, as you can see if you look at the photo of the orange juice bottle.

For the briefest of moments, I considered taking the advice offered by the orange juice, but thought that it might "cause a scene".

While waiting in the breakfast lounge some distance from our departure gate, we had the dubious pleasure of being entertained by 4 year old Jed and his ineffectual mother. We watched his antics - punching his mum, running his pushchair into passers-by, screaming, running away from his mum. As Jed's mum issued yet another in a long line of impotent threats, we spared a thought for the poor f*ckers that were going to be sat next to him on the plane. Jed was in dire need of a calpol and ritalin chaser.

Our America West plane to Las Vegas was getting on for 30 mins late when we started boarding without any sort of explanation for the delay. Eventually we boarded the plane. Fate kind of liked the way the day had been going for us and so it decided to string us both along and see how much we could take. Fate decided to seat us next to Jed.

The plane continued to sit on the runway until one of the flight attendents said that the plane was too heavy at the front and that someone from the first seven rows was going to need to move to the rear of the plane or we wouldn't be going anywhere. We jumped at the chance to ditch Jed's sideshow and headed down the aisle to the seats next to the emergency exits. The truck was starting to push us out from the gate when we came to a halt and then started moving back to the gate. The pilot said that we'd lost auxiliary power and that until we got it back, the engines wouldn't start. More waiting.

We eventually got in the air. By the time we were getting close to Las Vegas, we were getting tight for time if we were going to catch the connecting America West service to Chicago. Fortunately, pilot asked all passengers who didn't have connecting flights to remain seated and allow us off the aircraft. Despite this request, the aisle still filled with bodies and we missed our connecting flight. The America West troubleshooter said there was no way we could now make our flight from Chicago to Glasgow. She said we could either stay in Las Vegas or just push on to Chicago today to catch the flight to Glasgow a day later. I weighed up the pros and cons of staying in what is effectively a bingo hall in the desert, or going to Chicago. We went to Chicago. The America West troubleshooter put us on the next Unied Airlines flight to Chicago. She changed the routing of our bags so that they'd be available for us in Chicago. She even booked us into the Chicago Airport Hilton for the night and gave us meal vouchers for breakfast, lunch and dinner. She even said we could use one of their phones to resolve the problem we were having with my mastercard. First though, she wanted us to leave terminal 1 for terminal 2 so that we could get checked in for the United Airlines flight. Sounds like fate was easing up eh?

We checked in for the United Airlines flight and started to make our way back to terminal 1 so we could talk to the America West troubleshooter and use her phone to contact mastercard. However, it turned out that to go into the terminal again, we needed to clear security. No big problem we thought. Wrong. We were coralled into a dead end by airport security staff, where they refused to talk to us. They kept calling on colleagues to help them deal with two "selectees". I didn't like the sound of that, and I didn't like the way they were refusing to elaborate on what a selectee was. After a few moments, an airport security guard came over, separated us and asked me where I was travelling to while he put on some blue latex gloves. Sweet f*cking Christ, this was not looking good at all. Fate decided that I couldn't continue to amuse it if I died from shock, and so the search turned out not to be anywhere near as "thorough" as the blue latex gloves might have suggested.

We finally got through and found the America West desk without the troubleshooter. We wandered round until we could find someone from America West who was willing to let us make an international call to mastercard. She also explained that the reason we would have been selected for a "special search" was because our flight itinerary had been changed. Despite this being out of our control, it had still been deemed suspicious. That's what you get for travelling around September 11th I suppose. I managed to get the mastercard unblocked. Time to leave Las Vegas we thought, since we'd been through our fair share of Fear and Loathing.

The United Airlines flight got us into Chicago and we went to the baggage claim rail and waited. As all the other passengers collected their bags and wandered off, the claim rail became more and more sparsely populated. It was oddly evocative of the feeling I used to get as a toddler waiting to be picked up from playgroup by my mum. You could see everyone else getting picked up and the place emptying. I should stress at this point [especially if she's reading] that my mum always managed to pick me up from playgroup and that I was just a bit neurotic.

I wandered over to the United Airlines baggage service desk. They took a look at my baggage receipts and said that they had never been given these bags by America West. I went to America West in the next terminal. They said that as my immediate carrier, United Airlines were legally responsible for my bags. They also said that they had no idea where they were. They suggested that American Airlines (handling the transatlantic leg) might have received them early. I spoke to American Airlines in Chicago, they also claimed never to have seen the bags.

Our bags were in the bag version of the Bermuda triangle. After 3 hours of waiting in a baggage room on people "double checking" their baggage halls for our bags, we retired to the hotel without a change of clothes. We stopped in at a shop in the basement of the hotel that was miraculouly still open and bought clean underwear and t-shirts for the bargain price of $80.

I'm really pissed off. We're both really tired. I want this day to be over. I just needed to chronicle it first in its full glory as a benchmark of shit days. Truly, this is the one against which all others must be judged.

California: It bakes their brains

2005-09-09T15:45:00.000-07:00

We saw quite a few crazies on our holiday. This guy pictured here in Sausilito was one of my favourite "reality-challenged" individuals we came across. This particular botherer-of-old-ladies-on-benches dresses his dog in a tie-die babygrow topping off the ensemble with a pair of shades and a sailors hat. He proceeded to tell the world at large about how he had been a baptist minister in Israel, and then burst into a rendition of "Comfortably Numb" on his detuned acoustic guitar while being accompanied by his dog.

Berkeley was not without it's gems. There was the guy who stopped us in the street while swigging on some booze from a brown bag. He suspiciously eyed the water bottle I was carrying before yelling. "You need to drink beer, not water. And your lady, you must take your time with the lady." The beer thing I could let slide, but I'm not taking any sex tips from crazy Joe.

Pamela's favourite was the guy we became aware of on the other side of the street who didn't know us, but was giving us the finger for 5 minutes while screaming obsenities across the road. I motioned to him across the road as if to say "Are you talking to us?". The animated response came back roughly in the form of a slow nod. Disturbing.

Biking the Bridge

2005-09-09T04:54:00.000-07:00

We hired mountain bikes today and followed the cycle path round from pier 41 through aquatic park, across the Golden gate Bridge and down into Sausilito before getting the ferry back. It's a fantastic ride. Top comedy points were scored by the guy who hired the bikes to us.

Bike Hire Guy: "So, is this your first time out here"
Me: "No, I went to Indiana in 1998"
Bike Hire Guy: "Where's that?"
Me: "Here"
Bike Hire Guy: "It's in California?"
Me: "No, Indiana is a state"
Bike Hire Guy: "Oh. OK"

And I thought my geography was bad....

Also got to see a Segway version of a motorbike gang. Surely only in California. This is how davros got started, you know.

Yosemite national park

2005-09-05T17:21:00.000-07:00

Hey! I managed to hire a car and (for the most part) resisted the overwhelming temptation to drive on the other side of the road. I'd never driven on American roads before last night, and I managed to make a left turn that felt oddly comfortable and familiar. Yup, I was on the wrong side of a dual carriageway. Fortunately nothing was coming and I managed to reverse up a side street and come out facing the right way. I think I managed to avoid being caught on one of those "America's Worst Drivers" types of shows.

On Richard's advice, we got up semi-early and drove off to Yosemite National park. Just getting to the boundary of the park and back was a 400 mile round trip. The scale and beauty of the place is just staggering. It took 3 hours to drive through 2/3 of the width of park before we decided to turn back. On the way there were signs telling you your elevation above sea-level . The highest point we got to was Tuolumne Meadows at 8600 feet above sea level. I reached into the back of the car to pull out a bag of crisps we'd bought in Berkeley before setting out. With the altitude and drop in air pressure, the bag had ballooned massively. That's when it struck me, we're nearly as high as 3 munro mountains. That's 3 times higher than I've ever climbed. Yet there's still two track roads at that height. Weird.

There are supposed to be mountain lions and bears living at the higher altitudes at this time of year and we had our eyes peeled to try get a bear photo. They seemed to be a bit shy though, and after a while your eyes started playing tricks on you. There were so many times where you could have sworn you'd just seen a bear, reversed back, or stopped only to see that it was a boulder. On the other hand, maybe the bears were behind the boulder laughing.

Santa Cruz - think Blackpool without the sewage

2005-09-04T15:58:00.000-07:00

When I was 13 and really into skateboards, Santa Cruz was a Mecca. Richard took us there on a trip there to soak up the pure Americana.

It's hard for us to think of anything to compare it to really. Think Blackpool, but instead of Little and Large, driving rain and beaches strewn with sewage, it was Surf shops, blazing sun, and beaches crammed with beach volleyball players.
The even hire canoes. If you can peer into the distance between myself and Richard, you can see two guys in a hired canoe. The guy in the back seat is so heavy, they're doing a wheely.

Sailing in San Francisco Bay

2005-09-03T14:09:00.000-07:00

We both had a fantastic day with Richard and his family today. We chartered a yacht and took her off for a sail around San Francisco bay, under the Bay bridge, round Angel Island and Alcatraz, past Sausilito. The only trying bit of the experience was finding pier 40 where we were supposed to pick up the yacht. We'd been to pier 39 and 41 before. We just assummed that pier 40 would be in the middle. Nope. It turns out that on one side of the bay bridge you only get even numbered piers, odd on the other side. So, in fact the distance between pier 39 and pier 40 is around 2 miles. We were in the wrong place.

Once we were out in the bay, the winds picked up and there were smiles all round. Then, about parallel to the Golden Gate Bridge, the winds started to pick up some more and it got a little on the hairy side for most of the crew. After all, it's hard to reconcile people's assurances that you've got 1/2 of lead beneath your keel and that you can't capsize with the overwhelming evidence of your eyes that we're nearly over on our side!

Jody, Richard's daughter seemed concerned that there might be sharks in the water, but our skippper assured her that there was a sign over the ocean side of the Golden Gate Bridge that said "All sharks must stop here. No sharks allowed in the bay". I'm not sure if he convinced her, but it struck me as a wonderful tourist draw. Perhaps they should put one up.

After sailing, we were invited into the club house for drinks. Greg, the skipper gave me one of the club's burgees and I said I'd send him one of ours from Loch Venachar sailing club. Though come to think of it, I can't remember whether we even have one.

Walking with sharks

2005-09-02T15:27:00.000-07:00

Pamela and I went to the San Francisco Aquarium of the Bay today. Perhaps the best bit was the walkthrough glass tunnel where you get to see the sharks swimming about next to you. There are also shoals of anchovies, but the tour guide assures you that the sharks are kept well fed and that we weren't about to witness a bloodbath.

We also got to pet a Leopard Shark as well as Bat-Nosed Rays and Skate.

To protect and to serve (and drink coffee)

2005-08-30T11:13:00.000-07:00

We were in San Francisco yesterday waiting for a city tour to start. It being the first time we'd used the BART rail system since arriving we set off at some God-forsaken hour to arrive in plenty of time. BART is just so much better than any tube or bus network we've got. Consequently, we found ourselves in the Embarcadero centre in San Francisco well ahead of when the tour was scheduled to star, so we found a Starbucks opposite the Hyatt Regency hotel and went in for a drink.

The odd thing about Starbucks in the US is that they insist on asking your name before serving you. It's the kind of superficial "Have a nice day" reflex that seems so totally alien to what I'm used to. In Scotland, you just walk in, say what you want, pay them and then they call out your order.

I had to give them my name three times before they finally decided to call me "Stoort" instead. I let it fly. I just wanted some coffee.

We sat down next to a couple of motorcycle police who had left their bikes parked outside. I didn't really pay attention to them, but when we left, Pamela told me what they'd been talking about....

First off, bear in mind that they were already sat down drinking coffee and were still there when we left. It turns out that they'd been listening to the reports of robberies on the police radio and saying "Yep. He got away" while casually sipping from their coffees. They went and got some more coffee before we left.

We had to leave to get the tour bus from across the street. After 15 minutes, they finally emerged to pose in photos for semi-naked women on push-bikes.

Nice work if you can get it.

Disclaimer: I realise that firstly, the SFPD motto isn't to protect and to serve. Secondly, I'm sure not all the SFPD are like this, since we met a really nice helpful one in the Embarcadero centre.

31 and still being mistaken for a student

2005-08-30T11:01:00.000-07:00

While walking down to the hotel in Berkeley, we passed a guy on a bike who looked not dissimilar to Catweasel. Eyeing us both up and down, he drawled, "Welcome back Cal-stus". It soon occurred to me that he'd mistaken us for students at the University. Grim. I need to seriously rethink my wardrobe. No, sod it.

Pamela says: You're missing the point that he thought that we were 9 years younger than we actually are. It was quite dark.

Japanese Tea Gardens

2005-08-29T15:00:00.000-07:00

Today, we went on one of those city tours. In the middle of the Golden Gate National Park, there's a Japanese Tea Garden. The scenery is just stunning. The tea's not bad either.

Cal Bears

2005-08-28T15:54:00.000-07:00

The University of California, Berkeley has a bear as it's mascot. They even went so far as to create a massive statue of a Golden Bear holding a diploma. The odd thing was that it looks an awful lot like the Cresta "It's frothy man" bear. Pamela really took to it.

Welcome to California

2005-08-28T09:10:00.000-07:00

I'm writing this from an internet cafe near the University in Berkeley, CA. After an incredible 19-hour, 3-flight air odyssey which had involved being covered in baby food and screamed at for 8 hours, we arrived in Berkeley and headed for our hotel.

The first thing to be said, is that hotel marketers are liars and will go to hell for directing us to choose a place on the grounds of its closeness (a 30 min walk as it turned out) to the BART rail station.

We started walking to the hotel around 21:30, and soon became aware of a lady outside a shop/cafe/bar who was bent over double in a shop doorway. As we got nearer, it became obvious that she wasn't bending down to get her bus pass, or even being sick. Nope. She was having a shit in the doorway. I kid you not. Pamela is sat here beside me as I type questioning whether it was a shit or a piss, but to be honest I'm glad I didn't stop to ask the woman.

It suffices to say that after a minute or so of strained concentration on her part, she produced a tissue, reached round behind her flabby, pock-marked arse and wiped her gusset before tossing the paper onto the pavement in front of us.

Following last night's performance by the California bag lady community theatre, Pamela and I have been reflecting on how we'd never actually seen someone do such a thing in even the dodgiest bit of Govan. Grnated, you did get people who would go around the back of pubs for a piss if they'd been caught short, but neither of us can recall someone having "come prepared" as it were, with bog paper.

A running conversation we've been having since then (gives you an idea of why we're so well matched) is on the subject of alfresco pissing etiquette. Is it better manners to piss in a doorway on a main street, but at least wipe with paper than to piss behind a pub but without anything to wipe with?

California, you've given us both food for thought. And a good reason not to dwell in shop doorways for too long.

My wrongs #15937

2005-08-10T12:32:00.000-07:00

I was walking back to the office with Rob, having been out to Starbucks to get my usual extra-hot venti mocha. I can never be bothered to press the button on the pedestrian crossing, and prefer to look over my shoulder at the junction to see whether there are any cars coming so I can just cross without having to wait.

I kept walking while looking over my shoulder.

There was an old lady stopped at the pedestrian crossing in front of me.

My extra-hot venti mocha was still extra-hot.

I think you can see where this is going. I ended up apologising profusely while brushing flecks of mocha foam out of this poor old lady's hair. Her back was drenched in coffee. Not good. I didn't know quite what else to say, so I just kept on babbling about how sorry I was.

Kudos goes to Rob who managed to maintain his composure during the event, and waited until he got in the lift before giggling uncontrollably. At least I'm not going to hell alone then.

Community

2005-08-04T05:00:00.000-07:00

Wow. I've been getting really riled-up over the smallest things lately. I was listening to an interview with a particularly cretinous government minister on Radio 4 the other day when it occurred to me that word "Community" is used as a wildcard nowadays.

If a politician were to say,

"All X people are ...",

he'd be keel-hauled by the media. The problem is that people still want to be able to express themselves. In a desparate attempt to remain politically correct, people are increasingly weasiling out with phrases like

"Members of the X community are ..."

This is because people making the first statement would be criticised for making blunt generalisations. Yet, it's seen as acceptable to come out with the second statement despite the fact that few people will find any practical difference between their meanings. Crucially, the statements may only be discerned by their tone as perceived by the listener. We've probably all noticed how words are abused by the media and politicians. This inevitably leads to those words taking on rather negative connotations. Think of the term "Special" as in "Special needs". Already, the phrase "you're special" is a popular taunt between my neighbour's kids. It makes you wonder what politicians are going to do once they've abused the term to the point where it actually becomes derogatory and they can no longer use it. I think they'll be up shit creek to be honest, because at the moment, you could devise a really good drinking game based on the number of times a politician says the word.

The concept of "Community Leaders" is also a disturbing one for me. It's a term that you often find cropping up in interviews where a politician needs to absolve themselves of the need to make a particularly difficult decision. In these cases, you'll often hear them remark "We are in consultation with leaders of the X community to form a new strategy". Were I to find myself being corralled into one of these amorphous, non-geographical and entirely fictional communities, I think I'd be quite put out by the idea that someone could claim to be their leader. In fact it seems quite sinister that they would be representing my views and shaping policy decisions on my behalf. I may not like our MP or MSP, but at least I had a say in trying to avoid him being elected.

As a final thought, isn't it odd that the concept of "Community" is never one which is applied to the rich, priviliged, educated, or white....

Mac Mini and the Tiger

2005-04-12T09:37:00.000-07:00

At last. 12 days afer the smart money said it was going to be announced, Apple have finally set a date for the release of Mac OS X 10.4 (Tiger). I'd been holding off buying a Mac Mini until the release of Tiger and rang up Apple to see if I could pre-order a Mac Mini with Tiger. Apparently not. However, they did say they'd give me a £14 discount off my bill that I could use for against a purchase of Tiger. Considering that my home PC is dead (my hands are getting too big and my patience too short to be messing around with fragile motherboards), I went with the offer.

Anyway, a mail arrived in my inbox, and I saw that they'd misspelled my name as Stewart instead of Stuart. So, worried that there might be a problem in the MasterCard going through, I phoned them up to get it changed.

Bizarrely, the conversation went:

"How is it you're spelling it?"
"S-T-U-A-R-T"
"s-t-a-u-r-t?"
"No, S-T-U-A-R-T"
"OK that's s-t-a-u-r-t?"
"No."
"Could you spell it again?"
"Well, you know how there's 2 ways to spell Stuart?"
"Yes"
"Head for the other one"

Welcome one and welcome all

2005-04-12T08:52:00.000-07:00

I seem to remember hearing somewhere that there are actually only 20 or so different strains of the cold virus circulating. If this is true, and it's a big if, then it's a nugget of info I like to hang onto in moments like this. I am currently in the middle of a rather nasty cold and I'm stuck at home drifting in an out of consciousness. But beyond the effects of the cold, there's something troubling me.

My team develop software using XP, and this is the first time I've been away from them due to illness. I find myself wanting to check in with the guys. It's not because I don't trust them. Far from it. I'm fortunate enough to be working with some of the most talented developers I've ever come across. It's just that with so much personal effort invested in a project, I feel like I carry the can for the success of the project. In practice, there are few people who can practice pure XP in terms of the roles of the individuals. It's just got me wondering about how others manage the situations in which they find themselves filling multiple roles in the XP process....