write.as/jonbeckett

I have been invited to a barbecue this evening – hosted by a wonderful friend that lives across the way. I’ll stop on the way home to buy beer and wine. After the last few weeks, I’m looking forward to an evening with old friends, eating simple food, laughing, and erasing recent stresses.

Perfect start to the weekend.

I’m forcing myself to take a break from work for an hour. An hour to empty my head into the keyboard. An hour away from all thoughts about programming, workflows, form designs, or anything else I’ve been submersed in for the last couple of months. I made this decision after unwittingly working straight through lunch yet again. We’ll call this a ‘late lunch’.

The sun is shining outside. I’m wearing shorts! I looked out of the window after scraping myself out of bed this morning, and remarked to my other half about it – she half smiled with her eyes still closed.

While I got on with having a shower, making lunches, cups of tea, feeding the cats, and so on, my other half didn’t appear. Three quarters of an hour later she finally arrived in the kitchen, and shot a glance at me that spoke volumes. Apparently Miss 14 had been threatened with being pulled from a rugby tournament at the weekend. A minute or two later a thunderous voice began bellowing from somewhere upstairs:

'YOU ARE SO MEAN! I HATE YOU!’ (pause for reaction) 'I REALLY, REALLY HATE YOU!’

My other half turned to me, after taking a sip of her tea, and quietly said 'she got better quickly after only just managing to murmur that she was too poorly to go to school’.

This is where I admit that I become completely distracted writing this, after 'Freedom 90’, and 'Can’t Fight This Feeling’ were played on the radio back-to-back. I might have to go lookup Freedom on YouTube – it had the video with the supermodels, didn’t it. I mentioned to my other half while washing up last night how lucky we are to have grown up during the period we did – I think Depeche Mode were on the radio at the time. You just don’t hear the breadth of invention in music any more – nobody wants to take chances, because there’s too much money at stake. You will never see another Roxy Music, Bronski Beat, Depeche Mode, Thompson Twins, OMD, or New Order – because they are too different – too much of a risk. When I was young the rules of music were being re-written, because new instruments appeared – the Yamaha synths, Boss drum machines, and so on. Now it can all be simulated via computers, everything has become derivative.

ANYWAY!

I need to get on with my work, before I start writing an essay about the brilliance of Howard Jones, Nik Kershaw, Duran Duran, and a hundred other bands that once had their names scribbled on cassette tapes in my bedroom.

I’ve been sitting in front of the computer for the last hour, wondering what I might write about, and vanishing down any number of internet rabbit holes while avoiding writing ‘I have nothing to write about today’.

I’m tired. I need to sleep. I will be back. Promise.

I had the best idea for a blog post earlier. Unfortunately all I remember about it now is that I had an idea. I have no idea what that idea was, or how interesting it might have been. I can’t imagine it was that earth shattering, otherwise I would be publishing the best thing you’ve read all day. I’m not – I’m publishing this.

Anyway.

I’m sitting at the dining table in the lounge, with the hand-me-down laptop that I inherited from the kids. I’ve drunk two glasses of wine that have gone straight to my head. Most people talk about a glass of wine relaxing them. When you’re already knackered after a night walking kids around town between various after-school activities, wine becomes sleeping potion. It would help if I hadn’t seemingly become immune to caffeine. I downed a cappuccino earlier, and it bounced off me like a ping-pong ball.

I don’t really have any stories to tell today. Nothing to report. While walking between a dance class and a football field earlier, I thought about the idiotic pattern I’ve fallen into – posting every day, and wondered if it would hurt to back away – to post once every few days, or once a week even. This is where I say I’m thinking about it, and then post fifteen posts tomorrow. It would be nice to sit and read a book though – instead of thinking “I should post something on the blog”.

After surviving a fit of bravery at the weekend, and connecting Twitter, Instagram, Wordpress, and Tumblr together, it occurred to me this evening that I should perhaps put a little more effort into finding the acquaintances I used to follow on the various social networks. Yes, I know – I should never have unfollowed everybody in the first place – I needed to do it though. I needed to step away for a while. I needed to calm the chaos for a while.

If the weekend was “dipping a toe in”, this evening is more like “falling in at the deep end” – following the breadcrumb trail from old friend to old friend, sinking further and further into the social media rabbit hole. I doubt I will descend as far as I have in the past. I used to live down there in the inky depths – it’s not good for you at all – you start comparing your life against the highlight reels surrounding yours, and the comparison is never good.

In a volley of back-and-forth messages with a new friend this morning, I was told that the stories I tell via the blog paint a wonderful picture of family life. I couldn’t help laughing – I’m as guilty as the next person of filtering. Who really wants the truth though? Who really wants to tell the truth? My truth is incredibly mundane at the best of times – days filled with chores, stress, more chores, and then late night head-emptying sessions into a keyboard. Imagine a truthful episode of Big Bang Theory, where Sheldon is playing a role playing game on the computer, Penny is scrolling Instagram on her couch, and Leonard is washing up – for the entire episode – with nobody saying a word to each other.

Anyway. Reconnecting. Let’s get back to the title of the post. I’m busy trying to find a lot of the people I used to follow – at both Twitter and Instagram – and it’s hard. Far more difficult than I thought it should be. I’m been surprised at home many people have “gone private” – hiding their posts from the word. I’ve thought about doing it in the past, but then thought “what do I have to hide?”. I don’t tend to share photos of family life with the internet at all any more though, so the decision becomes an easy one for me. My instagram feed is filled with photos of railway platforms, airports, and far away cities as a consequence.

So – in order to make up for my hopeless discovery skills, if you read this and know I’m not following you elsewhere, let me know (and obviously tell me how to find you at those other places, because – like I said – I’m hopeless).

Instead of standing on the touchline of a football pitch for several hours earlier, I found myself stuck at home doing chores once again – filling the washing machine and tumble dryer continually, and thankful that the school Easter break is coming to an end. I have no idea how the girls have managed to wear quite so many clothes in so few days.

After lunch – a remarkably forgettable sandwich scraped together from leftovers – my mind turned to dinner, or rather the lack of food we had in the cupboard to make dinner from. I knew I would need to go food shopping, but had not had a shave. Rather than delight people in the highstreet with my neanderthal good looks, I retreated to the bathroom, and set about turning myself back into a fairly-well-presented member of the human race – it’s worth noting that I hate shaving. I can’t imagine how annoyed women get with shaving their legs – but then I suppose they don’t have to do that every other damn day (or do they?).

Just as I pulled on a sweater, ready to walk into town, I looked out of the window and saw my other half pulling the car back into the driveway with the newly crowned Miss 13. It quickly transpired that they had arrived home via the supermarket, where they had done several laps of the car park before giving up and coming home.

I started writing a shopping list.

While walking into town it occurred to me that I really didn’t need the sweater – the sun was shining spectacularly for the first time all year. Of course I didn’t have a tidy t-shirt on under the sweater, but I thought “what the hell”, and stopped mid-walk to strip off. I apologise now to whoever saw the fleece sweater try to take my faded Star Wars t-shirt with it. Why do they DO that ?

Here’s where I get to the title of this post. After turning the final corner towards the high street, I was suddenly confronted with a very visible reminder of the kind of town I live in – or rather, the kind of people that live here, but you seldom see. The sun was shining. It’s a picture-postcard kind of English town. Every cafe in sight was full to bursting with people of a certain age “out for the day”. It struck me not long after picking my way through the first group of them that there were no children in sight at all – no teens, no children, no toddlers – just a sea of people – either twenty something hipsters, or fifty-something professionals – sitting around with immaculate haircuts, clothes that cost more than my entire wardrobe, and shoes that had quite obviously been worn once or twice, if ever.

Where did all these people come from? Was there a wedding happening? Did they all know something I didn’t? I continued on to the supermarket, which was mercifully quiet – apart from a few hassled parents, much like myself, filling baskets to bursting point with groceries.

After leaving, I made a point of looking in on the various cafes through town – they were ALL full of similar collections of people. Wealthy parents of grown-up children, I’m guessing – out for the day – sitting in the sunshine drinking coffee, prossecco, or whatever else took their fancy. I passed a young family with toddlers who couldn’t find anywhere to sit at one of the cafes, and sympathised with them.

I’m guessing a similar effect happens in all wealthy towns surrounding big cities (we are only an hour from central London) – where the sunshine causes the pretty people to emerge from winter hibernation.

I trudged home, and forgot all about them until sitting down to write this. In the grand scheme of things, I would rather worry about how my kids are doing, and what we’re having for dinner than sitting outside cafes in new clothes to make sure I’m seen. I do wonder though – what happens if it stays sunny for a while? Will they run out of new clothes, or money for hair colouring, and have some sort of crisis ?

It’s almost the weekend. I’m watching the last few minutes of Friday tick down. I need this weekend – but of course I’m not going to get this weekend. Far from it.

Miss 12 became Miss 13 this morning. We all sat around in the lounge in various states of sleepiness while she ripped open her presents – except for Miss 17 who couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed. I imagine this evening will be taken up with cleaning up after a house full of her friends. They’ve been to a trampoline park this afternoon.

Tomorrow is football. I have no idea where they are playing. Sunday is rugby – I’m getting a lift with another family because of course our children aren’t playing at the same place as each other – those coincidences are deliberately rare to make you think you have an easier weekend (until you get home and set the washing machine on fire).

Anyway. Time to shut my computer down. I’m going home via the supermarket, with orders to get toppings to make pizzas for a house full of 12 and 13 year old girls.

This week is flying by. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m continually busy, or because time has spontaneously shortened without anybody realising. I’ve worked through lunch every day so far this week. Not good.

Miss 14 spent much of yesterday in London doing a scavenger hunt with the girl guides. I will admit to looking in on Google Maps throughout the day, watching her progress – wondering where she was, and how she was getting on. The thought of a group of young teens wandering the streets, riding the underground trains, and jumping on busses quietly terrified me. She was fine. She is very tired tonight, but bursting with stories about her adventures.

Apparently there are selfies somewhere with a member of the Metropolitan Police. I doubt the officer in question will ever see this, but thankyou for humouring them.

Miss 12 becomes Miss 13 tomorrow. I’m bracing myself. Quite apart from heading to the local trampoline park with her friends while I’m at work, she will be joining all of the social networks – Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram are at the top of her list. I’ll choose not to make a very public comment about those parents that assist their children is signing up for social networks before they are 13.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with the kettle, a mug, and some coffee.

For the last few weeks I have been working on a colossal project. I turn up at the office, sit at my desk, and work straight through until I get up to leave. Sometimes I make a coffee for my co-workers, and in doing so realise I haven’t gotten up for two or three hours.

The down side to all of this is that I invariably arrive home with little or no enthusiasm to fill this blog with entertaining anecdotes – because they don’t tend to happen when you’re staring at source code, or diagrams all day.

For the last few evenings I’ve tried to burn the candle at both ends, and failed spectacularly. This morning I woke with the alarm clock at 7am, and watched the minutes tick past for half an hour while contemplating phoning in sick. I arrived in the office twenty minutes late, and worked straight through lunch to make up for it – or at least that’s what I told myself. I always work through lunch.

It’s difficult to put things down when you’re a software developer. There’s always just one more thing to get working before you take a break – or one more thing to re-do that you did several days ago.

Anyway. I’m having a night off from everything. I’m going to sit in the lounge, watch junk TV, and then read a book. I might reply to email (read: of COURSE I will respond to email, because this is me, and I can’t leave an unread email alone for longer than a few seconds).

I just watched the entire testimony between Mark Zuckerberg and a number of United States Senators in Washington live. Nearly six hours of it. I have some thoughts. I know this is a huge departure from the usual ‘day in the life’ posts I usually write, and I don’t plan on doing this on anything like a regular basis.

Like I said though – I have some thoughts.

Firstly, Mark Zuckerberg came across very well, and defended Facebook against both biased and unfair arguments very successfully indeed. He also came across as by far the most intelligent, fair, and even-handed person in the room. He spoke eloquently, accurately, and didn’t express frustration at any of the numerous times he was spoken over, cut off, or incorrectly quoted.

Secondly, I was stunned at the level of ignorance, lack of preparation, and unprofessionalism of many of the senators that fielded questions. In many cases, if I was a resident of the United States being represented by the senators in question, I would have been thoroughly ashamed.

I realise I’m making these observations from a somewhat privileged position – I have a level knowledge and experience of the subject matter that perhaps few do – I’ve been working as a professional software and web developer for over twenty years. You might expect elected representatives to educate themselves somewhat before asking a question though.

I lost count of the times senators repeated the same questions (no doubt because the vast majority only made the effort to be present to ask their own question). I also grew frustrated with the number of senators that asked obviously pre-prepared questions that had little or nothing to do with the subject of the hearing. Ted Cruz was perhaps the worst offender, ranting like a child about how unfair it is that you cannot force social media to promote whatever you want. He was unexpectedly entertaining though, even if he didn’t realise it himself.

Anyway. Enough of this nonsense. I’m not American, so I have a different collection of clowns to worry about governing the world in which I live. I have perhaps made it to the end of today with a very much strengthened opinion of Facebook though – which is interesting in a way, because I came away from the movie 'The Social Network’ with a very much strengthened view of Mark Zuckerberg, even though many other people seemed to think it was a hatchet-job of sorts.

Maybe one day – when social media has evolved further – we will look back at these times, and realise how good a job the likes of Facebook, Twitter, WordPress, and Google did. Sure, they made mistakes – and they will continue to make mistakes – but by and large, they are making the world smaller, more connected, and most importantly better.