(or.... something like that. I dunno. Don't ask me...
Juliana Hatfield's gorgeous song of small-town blues has rung truer
than ever with me recently. It may have been written about Juliana's experience
of Cambridge, MA, but it's a song that closely reflects my own experiences
of Cambridge, England.
"I just want to be entertained; I want to
feel alive again."
Faced with the prospect of yet another soul destroying weekend of alternately
wandering round town trying not to laugh at random strangers and making
everyone's head bleed in the chatterbox, somehow a little 'social activity'
(which I normally avoid like the plague) didn't seem like such a bad
idea -- the idea of a miniature noder meet in Cambridge? This I had
Hitching down from Nottingham for the weekend; chief instigator of
activities and maker of decisions. Almost sociopathically charming, apparently
capable of charming the pants (literally) of anybody, and entirely unapologetic
To borrow wertperch's words, an "absolute sweetie", hyperanimated and
all too eager to make threats of physical violence, but in the nicest possible
Me. I'm dull. The quiet one, though you'd probably never think it from
the chatterbox archives.Who would've thunk it?
Friday night GTKY at The Regal, and some challenges. Trying to find
people you don't know by sight in Britain's largest pub, and avoiding
real life huggles (only mostly successfully). (Issues). Connecting
faces and voices with nodes is an interesting experience. (darsi) was
in many ways almost exactly as I'd imagined. wertperch, however... I
think on some level I'd assumed he should be old enough to know better.
There's no repressing the teenager in some people, I guess :) Virtual
attendance by text message was observed by dwardu and BlueDragon too.
By virtue of stowing wertperch safely at my place for the night (via
a trip back on the 'School Bus'), and seeing the world through the eyes
of an editor for a short while (and also deputizing for the fingers of
Klaproth on dvorak keyboard) it was nice to have a few of my own opinions
validated, but also cast a whole new light on the amount of mess there is in
here. Suddenly I've gained a whole other respect for dannye.
Living in the place for over 2 years, doing "the tourist
thing" always seemed somehow inappropriate. Having the excuse of a genuine
tourist in tow, though, provided more than enough justification to wander
round staring impolitely at the spectacles and curios of the strange little
town (after coffee at the Corn Exchange and coming to an agreeable contract
of mutually assured destruction. Burning Down The House being the chief
threat subscribed to by all parties.)
Punting, for instance, involves a level of skill and experience that
can only be appreciated when observed practiced by a complete novice.
Pushing a boat along with a stick might sound easy, but in reality it seems
a lot more like playing Defender with an articulated truck. Of the
atrocities we saw, there were at least 2 collisions, one well veiled attempt
to knock down Mathematical Bridge, several novices punting backwards
and at least one committing the local heresy of punting Oxford style.
The one advantage we could find in the form of transport, however, is
that it does get the tourists within easy paddle whack range of the ducks.
Suppertime treats for all, if you have the will. Most tourists seem to
make do with simply taunting the ducks with bread, snatching it away from
them when they attempt to take it. Cruelty.
Then on to the Fitzwilliam Museum for a spot of the old 'cult-chyir'.
And because they don't charge an admittance fee. Points were scored all
Yay for us
! No XP or upvotes were garnered for the experience, however.
And I can't quite remember the name of the artist who painted the snowy
French landscape with the inexplicably dynamic trees which stuck in my
mind because it made no
Random points throughout the day were devoted to avoiding wertperch's
newly acquired disposable camera. I'm... not photogenic at the best of
times, and with 3 or 4 days of face-fuzz, Saturday was definitely
not one of the best times. (darsi) having her own issues with photography,
this lead to several suggestions that the disposable camera should, indeed,
be disposed of ahead of schedule.
Then, naturally, on to another pub, The Mitre in this instance, for
coffee. And then beer (or, in my wussy-ass case, Coke). Notable quotables:
"Oh, I had an excellent cocktail there once. What was
in it now? Uh, there was absinthe, and ... uh ........."
"G4/500...? Good machine!"
...along with the inevitable discussions of topics such as Linux
and device driver
s and switching hub
s, editorial policy
And there's so much more that I want to write down, to remember, but
it's already slipping; soon enough all I'll remember is how much I enjoyed it all... and besides, you've all stopped reading by now,
Now I just have that nagging feeling that another of those 'decision'
things will be expected of me regarding the 17th. Decisions, decisions...!