Friday, 23 November 2007

Live from the Great Sub-Continent

The treescaper is currently out of his natural habitat, on a business trip to Kolkota.

Tuesday, 23 October 2007

A word of warning...


...about the post which follows. There are virtually no trees in either of the lands referred to. At least, not trees as you or I would know them....

So feast your eyes on these, then read on


The Norse Treescaper sagas

Long before the turn of the century, the younger Treescaper spent a couple of summers sailing among the islands of the North Atlantic , two of which served to make Denmark the largest nation in the emerging European Community.


The answer to this geographical riddle can be found in words which used to be part of the ritual brainwashing of all good primary school children in England in the fifties:


“From Greenland’s icy mountains, from India’s coral strand;

Where Afric’s sunny fountains roll down their golden sand:

From many an ancient river, from many a palmy plain,

They call us to deliver their land from error’s chain.”


The fact that the message in the lyrics was lost on most of us post-war children is probably viewed by most of Treescaper Senior's generation as the root cause of the collapse of the British Empire and the rise of the dreaded Europe.



This particular schoolboy used to stop singing midway through the first line, mumbling the rest of the words distracted by the concept of Greenland's icy mountains. Ignoring the subjects of religion and empire for now, let's stick with geography which at that tender age was all the song meant to me. When I first saw these mountains a few years later, my life changed. I grew up. I lost my geographical virginity and set foot on what seemed like an alien continent, steeped in Viking history and almost completely unpolluted by the rest of Europe.


The Treescaper Greenland sagas are likely to figure in these pages from time to time given the influence those months had on my life, but for now I will turn to a smaller outpost of the 'Danish Empire', the Faroe Islands.


Half way between Scotland and Iceland, this archipelago populated by puffins and frequented by pilot whales left an even stronger mark on my life. A tiny community in European terms, made up of people who really understood what the word community actually meant. Over the course of five days in 1971, I learned to love this tiny land of contradictions and its people. A land that had more sheep than humans and yet, inexplicably, imported sheep's heads from Aberdeen as some kind of delicacy. A land where alcohol was illegal and yet where, after 8:00pm, a sober adult islander seemed a rare sight indeed. A land financially dependent on Denmark, yet one free from the influence of state television. An emerging nation with a distinctive flag and a new national newspaper reintroducing the old Norse language of their forebears, an act of intellectual aggression frowned on by the Danish government. Above all a land where the young people of my age looked to university in the bright lights of the Danish cities simply as an educational diversion in their island existence rather than the start of some longer term migration.


Thirty six years later, much has changed and yet nothing has changed. A friendship forged in those five days all those years ago resulted in an e-mail received last night containing a link to an Australian broadcasting company's website showing a documentary program about the islands.


Watch it, learn from it, understand why I'm an active supporter of Greenpeace and yet am proud to have eaten whale meat, but above all realise that there's more to life than the rut you and I are both in!

Saturday, 13 October 2007

Turning up the heat, turning down the noise

This week has seen an increased focus on the risks, inevitabilities and factual inaccuracies of global warming.
Shown here is the government's answer: 'Protect and Survive', 2007 style. Read the leaflet carefully and it will show you how to build an ark suitable for carrying yourself, your family and your pets above the ever rising high tide mark. Made from the old doors from your house, and with assembly possible within hours of the alarm being raised, this kit is the perfect home DIY project for every responsible Briton.

....eloquent profanity, it rolls right off my tongue

I'm sat here with half an eye and both ears on BBC4's Emmy Lou Harris evening which has got me to thinking about the weird lyrics that hang around inside my head.

Feeling Single, Seeing Double kicked it off and reminded me of a drive a few years ago from Tehachapi to Tonapah and then onward to Winslow Arizona. It was a rented silver Ford Taurus wagon which did a sprint from San Francisco down through Yosemite, Sequoia and Kings Canyon over to the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, Flagstaff and back through the Joshua Tree National Park (a homage to GP) to LA then back up the Pacific Coast highway. After a day at the Canyon, 10,000 maniacs had accompanied us out across the Painted Desert, and by the time we'd returned to NY, a good time had been had by all.

A great trip, funded by Pan Am miles and Marriott points - the airline sadly took the last 69,000 miles I had with them when they collapsed in a heap in the early '90s

I never did get a picture taken standing on that corner though....

Friday, 12 October 2007

Relief from acronyms and machine types

After last night's overdose of numerical nonsense, a few trees to calm things down...


Not an acronym or product code in sight!

Thursday, 11 October 2007

A museum piece in a small world

While I was sat on the left hand side of the chairman at Monday's epic steak and kidney pie extravaganza, I noticed that each of the members present wore a little pin in the lapel of the obligatory jacket, with a little blue name tag close by. Glancing to his right, I was surprised to see a name long forgotten beneath a face astonishingly unchanged - and I'm talking decades here rather than years. In those days I was a student, between school and university earning a bit of cash as an agency temp working for a local computer manufacturer, and Geoff was the manager of the operations department - the first person ever to interview me for a job, and unbeknown to me then, the first manager I ever had in a company that more by accident than design became a life sentence. He had no recollection of me, a mere temporary student, hardly surprising given the number of employees he'd seen prior to his retirement. He, however, was instantly recognisable to me once the name index in my brain clicked in. He hadn't changed, it was as if it were yesterday. By a bizarre twist, I'd resigned from his employment to undertake the very sailing adventure that I was there to talk about. Now if that isn't a small world, I'm not sure what is.

Recently, I visited the splendid new Information Technology offices of a public sector customer in Plymouth. There, in the reception area, protected from the masses by glass screens was a lovely selection of equipment that I had grown to love and hate during those days as an underling in Geoff's department. Wonderful technology like the 0029 card punch, the 2260 display , the 1403 printer, the 1041 terminal and more.. I'll stop before I give myself away as a complete geek. However, this brings me round to a theme which comes around often enough in the IT industry. What real advance has been enabled by the dramatic evolution of technology since that time? I've seen processor power multiply according to Moores Law, hardware prices fall through the floor, operating software footprint go through the roof, the advent of the PC, object technology, the web, broadband, wireless and more.


With all this, are we any more productive? Of course not! The saddest part of all is that we're just as unproductive now, working 60-70 hours a week against a reported 37 hours as we were back then when we actually did the 37 and still had time for fairly regular pub lunches! There's a variant of Moores Law at play here, though I'm not sure it has a name as yet.

Fortunately, the answer to all our woes lies on the Indian sub-continent.

.... or does it.

(Watch this space)

tree·scape [tree-skeyp]noun, verb, -scaped, -scap·ing.

  1. a section or expanse of rural scenery with objects of arboricultural interest, naturally illuminated and seen through the viewfinder of a Nikon D200.
  2. a picture representing pastoral, woodland or coastal scenery with trees of note
  3. [Fine Arts] the category of aesthetic subject matter in which natural scenery with trees is represented.






Wednesday, 10 October 2007

A free lunch for a charitable cause

A rash offer made over a year ago came back to haunt me this week as I joined Treescaper Senior and his merry band of retired 'professional and business' contacts for their monthly lunchtime get together.

A rare insight into his secretive movements for those three hours a month over the last few years, which turned out to be not quite as steeped in mystery as a Masonic Lodge, but nevertheless a curious male only gathering. Topped and tailed by the saying of the grace, the reading of past minutes and the ritual humiliation of members in arrears with their subscriptions, this monthly event is a three course lunch of modest ambition followed by a guest speaker.

Over lunch, the Chairman was at pains to warn me that there were those in attendance who would likely fall asleep during my 'surely inspirational' talk. 'Do not be offended' - a warning hardly necessary since I am well aquainted with the effect that a three course lunch centering around a steak and kidney pie would have on Treescaper Senior.

The time came, the lights dimmed, and a hundred or so faded transparencies later, the visual wonders of the Arctic seemed to have left their mark on the handful of those still awake. Appreciation in the form of a cheque for £20 to the Stroke Association made the exercise worth while, but perhaps more satisfying was the broad smile on Treescaper Senior's face - still wide awake, the exception to prove the rule.

Roll on retirement?

Maybe I'm not quite ready for that yet!

The start of another bad habit

Where next...?

I once went into print online, inviting friends and family alike to have me certified if I ever started a blog.

So here, while the balance of my mind seems temporarily disturbed by a blood/alcohol imbalance, the dreaded event looks like it may have happened. The end of one era, or the start of another?