Of course, as Amanda knows the area pretty well, SatNav was kept in his box and we struck out confidently in roughly the right direction… and ended up turning off slightly too early on our route to scenic Kingsclere (our original destination), ending up in a tiny but beautiful village called Hannington. Discovering a map of local walks in the Lych-gate of the village church, we struck out on a cold and misty morning and had a lovely (short, and cold) walk, miles off the beaten path, meeting no-one other than two local villagers and their dogs out for the morning tramp around.

The pub, the Vine, is possibly one of the nicest country pubs I’ve been to in the area and the food was amazing – Emily even thought so, eating her way through a portion of pasta big enough for a 7-year-old. Wonderful.

Here’s to more countryside adventuring in the weeks to come…

The vast differences in style – from the uber-modern to the Bilbo-Baggins-esque – was astonishing. Virtually every single house we saw could have featured on Grand Designs at some point – although some of them would have earned derisory comments from Kevin McCleod…

It’s a nice dream…

1. Confidence by itself generally loses out over evidence when all participants are equally reasonable.
2. Not all people that seek out debate in casual conversation are equally reasonable.
3. Don’t confuse prejudice with argument, and never make a personal comment part of your debate – you cede all authority.
4. If you can’t resolve the debate in the cold light of sobriety it won’t suddenly make sense intoxicated.
5. “Let’s agree to disagree” is a polite way of saying “I have no desire to pursue this conversation” and gives any participant in an argument the option to gracefully exit without giving up their perspective.

I’ve found myself in the position of defending people, products and positions I’m not particularly a fan of recently because people violate these rules in conversations with me. I’m not one to generally take a stand on random principles these days, but do find it hard to let totally unreasonable, unfair statements about anything stand. One of life’s little ironies.

Not DVDs or CDs; the convenience factor of the digital format there is just vast – but with books, the comforting, colourful, aesthetically pleasing albeit inevitably dusty presence across the room as they sit solidly in a bookshelf… well, their future absence will be noted.

I do occasionally still buy print books – for anything Amanda needs to read, or Emily (my girls are old school and the tactility of books is awesome and necessary for Em) – and occasionally for a long running series of books or novel I know I’ll end up sharing.

So Terry Pratchett, Raymond Feist et al, will continue to be bought in print. Because I’m faintly obsessive compulsive, I’ll also probably complete any series of novels I started to buy in physical form – Peter F Hamilton’s ‘Void’ trilogy was one case in point, despite the enormity of those hardbacks. Fortunately, I read my way through all of George R R Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire series in digital format, so  was spared the 1,000 page monster of the new book as a bookshelf counterweight.

But there are some shelves in our house that may end up with ornaments and niknackery on them instead of books. Which – as someone that’s spent a decade without enough shelf-space – is something I find strange in the extreme.

Yesterday, for the first time since the Summer proper began, my breath misted. Which doesn’t quite have the same exciting cachet it did when I was 10 and first visiting the UK, marking as it does the decline of the summer.

<sigh>. At least we have one more summer break to the seaside planned – looking forward to it, Damo!

Summer commuting has been significantly more tolerable. Whether its because everyone’s on vacation or people are leaving later, the journey into work at least is less crowded, less anti-social, and comes with a guaranteed seat. The journey home is more or less the usual scramble, but when you’re travelling for 2.5 hours per day, you’ve got to count your blessings where they come…

If you think a fact is conveniently available online, then, you may be less apt to learn it.

This is amazingly true. I frequently note that people referencing articles they’ve read to me can’t remember the article title, author or where it was published, or the detail of what it said or why it was interesting or funny. But they can remember the search sequence that got them there and find it via Google. Which is a fascinating insight into human psychology, right there – the journey is more memorable than the destination.

This is one of the reasons why I’m uncertain on social search. People like the solidity of search; the only way to make sure that social search improves on regular search is to somehow confound this pattern – making sure that social search is only a marginal improvement on general, unfiltered search – otherwise people will get frustrated by not being able to find the same things when on different machines.

That is all.

When some people hear me talking to traffic, it raises concerns about my stress levels… but I find it quietly cathartic.

Do you talk to traffic? /I’m not mad.

But I had fun, after a fashion, and in most respects thanks to Amanda’s amazingness -  and its funny how – looking at the footage – the discomfort in itself acquired a sort of nostalgic charm.

I’d like to go again, or to another festival – better equipped this time – if we can work out a way of making it fun for Emily. I’ve had the Big Chill and Bestival recommended to me as family-friendly, will need to give it some thought….

Unfortunately its data is not available to the public and they haven’t responded to my email. Anyone else got any other ideas for sources of open data on this?

Me – much as I love both my job and the challenges it present, I generally have no problem turning off the work vibe when I get home. My wonderful family and my myriad hobbies have a way of occupying the time, emotional and cerebral space.

Every now and then, though, when things are particularly busy, it creeps through. Last night’s dreams saw me travelling around London with a former colleague trying to solve some indeterminate and ludicrously complex client challenge.

The worst thing about work-related dreams, even the vague ones, is that when you wake up – you feel like you’ve already done a few hours worth of work. I need to find a cure – the usual process of vegging out with TV / reading a book / hanging out with the family is generally super-effective but when things are extra busy, well… some extra tonic may be needed.

But I totally lack the mindset of a photographer. I rush to frame the shots, struggle even to obey the simple ‘rule of thirds‘, invariably get the lighting wrong, and take ten useless photographs for every half-passable one. I’ve put this down in the past to being the sort of person that’d rather be in photos than take them…

I’m a bit better with my iPhone. The primitive capabilities of the iPhone’s camera are easier to learn your way around, and inevitably I work my around its limitations where I can.

Maybe I’m just making excuses for not being able to work out the myriad functions of the D80… I should probably go on a course. How did you get better at taking photos?

We’ve been disciplined about it – never thinking or speaking of her as ‘baby’ but always as Emily (or various unspeakably cute variations on that theme). And as she develops and her personality continues to present itself, it’s been amazing to watch her dictate the terms of engagement with other people.

The other day, my dad tried to pick her up for a cuddle before she was quite ready for him and I suggested he hold back, and just hold his arms out and smile at her. Sure enough, Emily sized him up, stuck her arms out and leapt into his arms for a bit of a play.

Wonderful to see.

Bizarre story in the Guardian – apparently:

Stowe school chef tells court she saw kitchen porter poisoning soup

Drama lives on in those green and pleasant lands.

Incidentally, inflation seems to have hit my alma mater hard – full fees when I was there (and I was on a scholarship when I was there, I hasten to add) were closer to £12,000 a year. Even with compounded interest rates at 4% over the 13 years since I left the fees should be closer to £20,000 a year than £27,000. Accurate inflation calculation puts the figure at closer to £16,000. How come public school education is racing ahead of inflation?