write.as/jonbeckett

jonathan.beckett@gmail.com

It's been a long day. Up at 6:30am to have a shower, shave, make breakfasts, lunches, clear the kitchen, and then somehow get the children out of the house. Cycle to work against a relentless headwind that left me rubber legged before working through the day until 5:30pm, then cycle home, eat dinner, wash up, clear the kitchen, tidy up the house, wash clothes, dry clothes, fold clothes, and then try to deal with a temperamental 15 year old.

All of the usual stuff was easy. The 15 year old was not.

It's easy to forget how difficult it is being 15. I can't imagine how difficult it must be for a 15 year old girl. You're judged by everybody, you judge yourself mercilessly, and the friendships you forge seem to govern your happiness like the score for a pianoforte.

She's asleep upstairs. Her phone in on charge downstairs – far away from her. I tried to tell her that everything will seem less dramatic in the morning, but I'm not holding out much hope. I'm fully expecting a pretend illness to appear – the groundwork has already been laid this evening.

I can understand her concerns. I was never one of the popular kids at school – I didn't have many friends, and never quite fitted in. For some people being 'social' comes easily – and for a small minority their popularity becomes a weapon – using their friendship as currency to manipulate the behavior of those around them. I still remember those children all these years later – I doubt I will ever forget them.

I have roughly 45 minutes until Wednesday becomes Thursday. I'm trying to convince my mind that the end of the day is a deadline of sorts, and if I don't post something before then I'll have a gap in the daily insanity. This is all hoodoo of course, because I've gone entire months posting every day, and have also gone entire months with only a handful of posts. The daily posting thing seems to be a new affliction. I think I'm starting to understand how obsessive compulsive disorders work.

Today was a long day. I'm finally nearing the end of the colossal project that has devoured the last year, and caused all manner of flying to and from Germany, nights in far flung hotel rooms, and miles walked through foreign city streets. In some ways I will miss Frankfurt, and in other ways I wish I had been more daring – more willing to take more chances – to visit some of the late night bars and experience the real city. I guess we'll see, because it's not really the end – it's more the end of the beginning.

Although I might not be visiting Germany for a while, I can't see life slowing down at all. At the end of next week I'll be heading to Wales, and the following week Leeds in the North of England. Hotel life beckons once more – quietly sitting in the corner of a hotel lobby with a drink, trying to ignore travelling salesmen broadcasting their own self importance to anybody that might take notice.

In the middle of all of this I'm also organising my other half's birthday party (a big birthday), and trying to figure out a meeting of several bloggers in London too. One is flying in from San Francisco, and a couple are from London. I have no idea where we're meeting yet – it should be fun.

I remember back in the day when Tumblr had meetups, I always wondered what it might be like – meeting up with people that already knew each other's stories – that already know the version of you that appears in words and pictures. Will they be the way you imagined them? Will you be the way they imagined you? I'm trying not to think about it too much. I think perhaps the most important thing will be to get a drink, down it, and then get another drink – just to calm the nerves. I wonder if anybody has ever STARTED with shots?

Anyway – that's a couple of weeks away. I might need to go buy a half-decent shirt before then – before the birthday part even. I tend to wear clothes to destruction, then replace a huge proportion of my wardrobe in one go. Just such a cull is probably overdue.

There. A blog post written in fifteen minutes. That's not bad going, is it.

I'm having a night off from 'the blog' tonight. I've been sitting here, staring at the screen for the last half hour, coming up with this and that – but nothing of substance. It's kind of like when you get to the end of a jar of peanut butter or chocolate spread, and can't quite scrape enough out to put on your toast.

I don't have enough story inside my head this evening to turn into a blog post.

I'm sure there ARE lots of stories buried inside my head – they just don't want to be shared right now, obviously.

There are ten days left in an idiotic sprint towards the end of the project I have been working on for the last year. Ten days to finish as much as possible, and get it to a point that I'm happy with. Notice I say 'that I'm happy with'. I'm my own worst enemy. Some people seem to be happy turning up, working for a given amount of time, and walking away at the end. I've never been one of those people. Call it pride, call it idiocy, call it what you want.

Anyway.

It's already 8:30pm, and I only just sat down. The evening has already mostly gone. I sometimes wonder how some people manage to watch television shows or whatever else they spend their evening doing. While I'm writing this my other half is helping our middle daughter with her homework. We also just finished tidying our youngest's room – discovering seven water bottles, two plates, three glasses and two mugs in the process. We also filled a bin bag with rubbish she had been conventiently storing down the side of her bed, in a cavity between the bed and the wall. She looked at her feet while we told her that will not be happening again. We haven't even tried to look in our middle girl's bedroom – there are probably new life forms in there.

While all of the above unfolded, Miss 18 quietly walked up to me with an uneaten sandwich that's been in the fridge for two days – it went to school with Miss 15, and came home unopened. Miss 18 assured me that 'it will be fine' despite my warnings that the bread would probably have begun to go moldy by now. Let's see how well her laziness does against a stale sandwich.

So. I have an hour or two to myself. An hour or two to try and erase the cares of the day. An hour or two to forget about the time and then discover it's 1am and I have to be up in five hours. We all know I've never done THAT before.

If you see me online in a couple of hours time, shout at me.

I've been thinking about the John Lennon quote today – 'life is what happens while you're making other plans'. It's so true. I've spent most of the weekend doing things for other people – running errands, picking up after others, washing clothes, and so on.

While my other half took our middle girl to a rugby match today I took our eldest and youngest daughters shopping for a somewhat random list of things – food for packed lunches from the discount store, batteries for an assorted collection of watches, gloves and socks for Miss 13 (she struggles with the cold, and has to wear gloves all the time while out at this time of year to prevent frostbite), a roll of parcel tape, and posting bags (we managed to get brown paper).

Taking the children with me resulted in several unplanned costs – coffee at Starbucks and a book from the bookshop for each of them, and then a roll from Subway on the way home for Miss 13 (18 cannot buy anything from Subway because she is coeliac, and they have no gluten free bread). It all adds up.

After getting home I called a far-away rugby pitch, and spoke to a breathless Miss 15 who had just finished playing. She scored a try, and did several spectacular runs (her own words). It is all captured on film for her college course. Oh, and she wanted pizza for dinner.

I walked into town to get pizzas for everybody from the big supermarket before it closed (there are restricted hours in the UK on Sundays), and listened to Marc Maron's WTF podcast while walking the mile-or-so in each direction. He talked to Tom Scharpling about all manner of things, and I found myself becoming lost in their conversation for the entire journey. On the way home it occurred to me that I eek out my life in the gaps between the various resposibilities and expectations that fall upon me. Yes, I'm carrying shopping bags, and yes, this is about the tenth mile covered today, but you see those earphones? They are taking me somewhere else. I'm escaping in plain sight.

I did buy myself one thing today – a small paper notebook, with 'my notebook' embossed on the cover. I found it while waiting for the kids in the bookshop. Notebooks are my kryptonite.

The school our youngest daughter goes to holds a charity bingo night every couple of terms. Tonight was one of those nights. We took supplies. We had such hopes – we've done well in the past – we've been lucky.

We won nothing. At all. Not a single thing. We won no lines, no cards, no raffle prizes – zilch. I can't remember none of us winning anything ever before. Maybe this is the pay-off for being somewhat lucky in the past?

I couldn't help being amused that a particularly grumpy old man that shouted at the announcer to speak up didn't win anything either.

Towards the end of the evening my ever present dark humor kicked in, and had our girls giggling like idiots at the prospect of being the best losers. Could we make it through the entire evening without winning a damn thing!?  As the evening wore on, and the chances of it happening increased, the tension on our table was palpable – they actually WANTED to lose. And we did!

Go us!

If there was a shop selling cake nearby, I might go and buy one. For me. It's been that kind of week. If there was another shop selling toy medals and trophies, I might get some of those too – and award them to myself – you know, like the members of the royal family that turn up at official events wearing so many medals that their balance is thrown off and they can only walk in circles. They must have had quite a few Fridays like this.

I'm spending my lunchtime writing this. Rather than go for a walk, make a drink, or anything else that involves leaving my desk, I'm staying here in front of the keyboard – slowly becoming a part of the furniture. When they dig this office up in a million years, they'll think I'm an undiscovered species – part man, part office chair. The missing link.

I found out yesterday that I'll be heading out on the road again soon – first to the north of England, then to Wales, and then... I don't know where after that. I'll be going into full parachute-display-team mode, landing in other people's projects, and either wrecking them, or improving them. Nobody ever notices if you improve things.

ANYWAY. (whispers to self – don't talk about work!)

It's nearly the weekend. It's nearly the weekend. Repeat after me – it's nearly the weekend. This is of course where people reading this on the other side of the planet get all bitter, because they still have 7 hours worth of Friday to get through that I don't. Let's try not to remind them too quickly that I got to work 7 hours before them.

On another completely unrelated note, I'm quite enjoying the change of blogging scenery. When I first landed at Tumblr (again), I went looking for a few of the people I used to follow – but then thought 'fck it' – very few of them ever took any interest in me, so why should I bother? If you're reading this, and thinking 'fck this guy then', I can let you in on a secret – if you follow me, and your blog is not full of advertorial crap, reblogs, or endless selfies, there's a good chance I will follow you – and if I do, there's a good chance I will read every post you throw out from that point on.

And breathe...

Our household was a hive of activity this morning, owing to the arrival of 'World Book Day'. Both my other half, and our eldest daughter work in schools – respectively a school secretary at an infant school, and a childcare assistant at a pre-school.

I had to look twice this morning when an amazingly accurate re-creation of Mary Poppins (the Julie Andrews version) arrived in the kitchen, complete with flowers in her hat, shawl on her shoulders, and shoes with heels. A few minutes later a rather charming female version of 'Where's Wally' (or 'Waldo', depending on where you live) arrived in the kitchen – complete with trademark woolly hat.

I'm wondering how many children will arrive at school this morning having fallen victim to competition among their parents – dressed from head to toe in outrageously expensive off-the-shelf movie character costumes, rather than anything to do with a book the children might like.

I'm not going to go off on one. I promise. Today is supposed to be a happy day about the books that made us who we are – not a ranty day about competitive parents.

So – it begs the question – can you name a book that has had a lasting impact on you – that has changed you ?

I'm going to come out of left field, and pick a book by Whitley Strieber that I picked up from a bargain book store years ago. It's called 'Communion', and mixes fact and fiction together to recount one of the many stories that later became part of the 'abduction' phenomenon. I read it as an impressionable early-twenty-something, and remember sitting up all night reading – one of the few times I have done so. It opened my mind to the possibility that there might be more than just 'this' – and that our understanding of the world around us might be wrong, but that there's not necessarily anything wrong with that either.

My brother-in-law gave me an Amazon token for my birthday last weekend. After spending quite some time perusing the internet behemoth's online store, I ended up looking at books. I was given a Kindle for my birthday a couple of years ago, but have rarely used it – I tend to prefer paper books even though they are heavier, and take up more space in my bag. There's something about holding a real book though – about the smell of books – and about spending time in second hand book shops (quite possibly my favourite places in the world).

Anyway. I bought some books for my Kindle, and thought I might share them with whoever might be interested.

Dune, by Frank Herbert

Everybody must have heard of Dune, right? Or at least seen or heard of the 1980s movie? It's a colossal science fiction fantasy epic that walks over Star Wars movie adaptations without even realising they were there – and I've never read it. The synopsis reads as follows :
Melange, or 'spice', is the most valuable – and rarest – element in the universe; a drug that does everything from increasing a person's life-span to making intersteller travel possible. And it can only be found on a single planet: the inhospitable desert world Arrakis.

Whoever controls Arrakis controls the spice. And whoever controls the spice controls the universe.

When the Emperor transfers stewardship of Arrakis from the noble House Harkonnen to House Atreides, the Harkonnens fight back, murdering Duke Leto Atreides. Paul, his son, and Lady Jessica, his concubine, flee into the desert. On the point of death, they are rescued by a band for Fremen, the native people of Arrakis, who control Arrakis' second great resource: the giant worms that burrow beneath the burning desert sands.

In order to avenge his father and retake Arrakis from the Harkonnens, Paul must earn the trust of the Fremen and lead a tiny army against the innumerable forces aligned against them.

And his journey will change the universe.

How to Stop Time, by Matt Haig

I've seen this book several times in book shops, and picked it up at least once. For one reason or another it has never made it to the checkout with me, but this time it did. Here's the synopsis:
Tom Hazard has a dangerous secret. He may look like an ordinary 41-year-old history teacher, but he's been alive for centuries. From Elizabethan England to Jazz-Age Paris, from New York to the South Seas, Tom has seen it all. As long as he keeps changing his identity he can keep one step ahead of his past – and stay alive. The only thing he must not do is fall in love.

The Complete Fiction of H.P. Lovecraft

Of course I know 'of' H.P. Lovecraft – but he's another author who's books I've never quite got around to reading. I'll admit the main draw in this collection is the 'Call of Cthulhu' – a story I have seen referenced inumerable times in popular culture, but don't know a thing about. Here's the synopsis:
Written between the years 1917 and 1935, this collection features Lovecraft's trademark fantastical creatures and supernatural thrills, as well as many horrific and cautionary science-fiction themes, that have influenced some of today's writers and filmmakers, including Stephen King, Alan Moore, F. Paul Wilson, Guillermo del Toro, and Neil Gaiman.

Mortal Engines, by Philip Reeve

For the past several years I seem to have been living under a literary rock. It was with some surprise that a Peter Jackson helmed movie turned up in theatres a few months ago about a fantastical world where cities have become lumbering machines. It was only after seeing the trailers for the movie that I discovered a wildly popular series of books that had somehow passed me completely by. Here's the synopsis of the first book (of four):
In a dangerous future, huge motorized cities hunt, attack and fight each other for survival. As London pursues a small town, young apprentice Tom is flung out into the wastelands, where a terrifying cyborg begins to hunt him down. MORTAL ENGINES launched Philip Reeve's brilliantly-imagined creation, the world of the Traction Era, where mobile cities fight for survival in a post-apocalyptic future.

The Humans, by Matt Haig

Another book I've seen on countless bookshop stands in railway stations and airports while traveling with work, but somehow never picked up. Here's the synopsis:
After an 'incident' one wet Friday night where he is found walking naked through the streets of Cambridge, Professor Andrew Martin is not feeling quite himself. Food sickens him. Clothes confound him. Even his loving wife and teenage son are repulsive to him. He feels lost amongst an alien species and hates everyone on the planet. Everyone, that is, except Newton, and he's a dog.

Who is he really? And what could make someone change their mind about the human race ... ?

In a perfect world I would already have started reading these books, but I'm halfway through a rather famous (and incredibly nerdy) book called 'The Soul of a New Machine', by Tracy Kidder. Those with eagle eyes will have spotted it on Joe MacMillan's desk in the closing scenes of 'Halt and Catch Fire'. It tells the true story of a technology company bringing a computer to market in the early 1980s, and could in many ways be seen as the seed that 'Halt and Catch Fire' grew from.

I promise to get started on these books soon though. Have you read any of them? Have you heard of them? Any thoughts? What are YOU reading?

I'm still waiting for Tumblr to sort out HTTPS on the account I setup yesterday. I've back-filled all the blog posts as far as July last year – tomorrow I will fill in to the beginning of 2018. I'm also back-filling photos from Instagram.

If you're wondering how long it's taking to migrate the posts – not as long as you might think. I wrote some Python scripts to do it for me. Of course it helps that I'm a software developer and can hack just about anything if I have to – but Tumblr has most of this stuff pre-written and ready to use – it's just a case of bolting things together with a little code glue here and there. It helps tremendously that I've always written blog posts as text files in markdown format (read: plain text).

I suppose the Instagram story is a little more interesting. It turns out there is a free app called '4KStogram' that will let you download any Instagram account to your computer. Along with the photos, it also grabs all of the captions – which it stores in a database. Thankfully the database is in a common format, so again you can write code with Python to make sense of it, and then push the photos up to Tumblr with intact captions and tags.

Please don't ask if you can have a copy of the Python scripts – they are a hell-stew of 'to be used once' undocumented, hard-coded programming :)

As soon as the posts started appearing at Tumblr, I began thinking 'they would look a lot better if they had photos to go with them' – so guess who spent an hour this evening editing each post by hand, and adding stock photos that vaguely go with each post. Yeah. Not one of my more productive ideas, but it does make the blog look a bit more presentable.

It's odd being back at Tumblr. I've followed a huge collection of writers, publishers, bookshops, and literary blogs, and a few of the people I used to know. I imagine most of those that used to know me will see my name re-appear and roll their eyes – wondering how long I will last this time. I can't blame them.

There is a sense – now that everything is calming down – that the Tumblr ship is slowly righting itself. After being sold twice in recent years – first to Yahoo, and then to Oath – the platform seems to be more solid than ever before. The development team finally seem to be cleaning house, shoring things up, and implementing a number of long-requested features. Stemming the tide of users leaving may prove more difficult, but if the majority of those leaving were rebloggers and porn spammers, it's no bad thing.

I have such fond memories of the various platforms around the internet. In a strange sort of way it's a shame that MySpace didn't survive – or at least not in it's original form. LiveJournal is still soldiering on after being acquired by a Russian company some years ago – although the western version of it is now a ghost town. It has always amused me that Vox, the direct descendent of LiveJournal, died many years before it's ancestor. Who remembers Yahoo 360? Of course it's also easy to forget that for many years Wordpress had to be self hosted – the monster Automattic are building at wordpress.com is becoming every bit as insidious as Facebook – they are just fronted by a more personable human.

Anyway. Enough about blogging. I should really be writing about life, because life is supposedly interesting. You know – 'got up, made lunches, went to work, came home, washed up, went grocery shopping, washed up some more, wrote a blog post, went to bed'. Exciting, isn't it.