Yanda Time

Free Wine and Super Powers

2009-06-19T11:06:38Z

The holiday has begun well. We went to Gordon Ramsay's Plane Food restaurant in Heathrow Terminal 5 for a posh lunch. We toasted the start of the trip with lemon mimosas, which may now be my favourite cocktail - limoncello, fresh lemon juice, and champagne. Very Very tasty.

We each ordered a starter size of the wild mushroom orecchiette with a total of four sides of various vegetables: broccoli with almonds, rocket and parmesan, some kind of lightly curried carrots thing, and buttered seasonal greens which consisted of a couple kinds of cabbage. It was all incredibly delicious, but took a while to arrive. This turned out to be a good news, bad news situation. We had left plenty of time to catch our flight and had only begun to wonder what happened to our food when the manager appeared and was profusely apologetic about the delay. Apparently, the chef took issue with some underling's cooking of our broccoli and sent the whole thing back. It is entirely possible blows were thrown or someone even killed. In any case, he gave us a couple of glasses of very nice Pinot Noir on the house.

I had planned to sleep on the flight, but instead watched four movies: The Wrestler to prepare me for American culture; Valkyrie to make sure I was briefed on European history (or at least the one bit of it that Americans know about); Milk because it was set in San Francisco which is where we were headed; and the Watchmen because its got a character who gains super-powers when something goes wrong in a physics lab.

This last is particularly relevant as we are staying at the Stanford Guest house right next to the longest linear particle accelerator in the world. I�m very optimistic about something going terribly wrong which rends space and time and results in my having the ability to smell with super-human accuracy or see using other people�s eyes.

Life as a Mountie - Day Eight

2009-03-20T14:25:02Z

Day Eight was my last day as a Mountie. It's been hard work, but I think I've made London just that tiny bit safer and brighter these last few days. If you agree, please donate a few pounds to Comic Relief.

Life as a Mountie - Day Three

2009-03-18T19:25:49Z

Day Three was Red Nose Day. The clipboards reminded me of a time when I kept our home and native land free of drugs and weapons using nothing but a notebook. Well, to be honest, it would be a bit much to say I kept it entirely free of drugs and weapons. You don't have to be a Mountie to know that even in Canada there are illegal drugs and the odd firearm.

I was seconded to the BBC's live-blogging team, providing extra security for celebrities, celebrities' personal assistants, and the dogs of celebrities' personal assistants.

To show your support for my career as a member of the RCMP, please make a small donation to Comic Relief.

Life as a Mountie: Day Two

2009-03-13T14:05:47Z

The total is now more than �700. At this rate, I will be wearing the red serge for the rest of my life. Actually, I may have to start seriously looking into some other Mountie uniform options. The serge is a bit warm when you're not out on the tundra. I've added the above video to http://www.myrednoseday.com/yanda. Don't let my potential discomfort dissuade you from doing the right thing.

Life as a Mountie: Day One

2009-03-12T09:19:32Z

So far, I've raised a little more than �400 for Comic Relief by offering to dress as a Mountie at work. Yesterday was the first day I donned the red serge. I have to admit, in the actual office, it was okay, but out on the wild streets of London, with my Mountie mindset on, some of the behaviour of the populace was a bit of a shock.

Anyway, I've started a video diary to spruce up http://www.myrednoseday.com/yanda

Rocking the iPhone

2009-03-08T19:49:59Z

I was in a coffee queue the other day and I overheard someone describing their iPhone as "a fantastic toy but an absolutely crap phone."

The statement is a bit extreme. I mean the thing does work as a phone; it's got a few issues, but compared to any mobile from five years ago, it's great for the basic stuff. And, more importantly, the first part of that statement, that it is an absolutely brilliant toy, is completely true.

I've been particularly impressed with the various music apps that people have developed for it. Over the years, I've seen various pitches for similar apps for other devices, but very few have actually been developed and even fewer can be used to create anything resembling actual music.

But here we have some professional musicians actually producing music out of the things. All things considered, it's an impressive performance. I somehow doubt any of these gals have practiced anywhere near as much on these iPhone Apps as they have on their real instruments.

Admittedly, I ran across this because I know one of the ladies in the band, so I may not be entirely unbiased. In fact (subtle plug), I've used a pic of the two of us to promote a red nose day fundraising effort. Still, I think it's pretty remarkable performance.

I've tried a few of these apps myself, but, entirely due to certain genetic inadequacies passed on by my parents, I suck monkey-butt at anything musical. I think digi-drummer is my favourite because you can drum along to tunes as you listen to them.

The main problem, though, is that the iPhone just doesn't look very rock and roll. There's a reason the design of the Fender Stratocaster hasn't changed in more than fifty years. It's the right tool for the job. You can bounce around a stage with a fender strat and look and sound cool. Even the very cool and sexy Mentalists don't look particularly cool or sexy standing behind a table coaxing tunes out of their iPhones.

And there's got to be a certain visceral pleasure in banging an actual drum with a couple of wooden sticks. You just can't get that by gently tapping a six inch touch sensitive screen. Drumming is as much about the violence as it is about the music. There is no doubt in my mind that without drums as an outlet, Gene Krupa would have ended up a leading hordes of Mongolians across the steppes of Russia.

So we're back to argument that the iPhone is a fantastic toy, but a crap drum kit.

Support your local RCMP (and Comic Relief)

2009-03-01T15:05:41Z

A couple of years ago, there was a Formal Friday at work that coincided with Red Nose Day. I rented a Mountie uniform for the occasion. Many people were amused by this and I have been asked several times since if I would ever wear it again. That year I managed to raise a small amount of money for Comic Relief by charging people to have their picture taken with me.

This year, I�m going to try to get the money in advance. I hereby make a sacred Canuck vow that for every �100 I raise, I will wear the uniform of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police for one full day at work.

If the idea of a mountie wandering around the halls of Television Centre amuses you (or possibly just makes you feel more safe), please donate at http://www.myrednoseday.com/yanda.

The more you donate, the more days you will have a visible Canadian police presence (imitation only) keeping the employees of Britain�s broadcasting service safe from wolverines and mad trappers. There is a chance I may end up wearing the red serge for the rest of my working life if enough money is pledged. Even if I retire at 90, I figure it would only take a little more than one million pounds to mean I would never wear anything else in the office.

Comic Relief is a charity which encourages people to do something funny for money. The money in question goes to support long term charity projects. They do a lot of work on mental health in the UK and on combating malaria and AIDS in sub-Saharan Africa amongst other projects.

Mug too big

2009-02-25T17:32:02Z

All the mugs in the mini-kitchen at work have mysteriously vanished. In desperation, I took the lift down six floors to the BBC Shop and purchased myself a �Property of the Stig� mug. This cost me, with my staff discount, �7.01 including tax.

It�s a good mug. It has a pleasing shape with a good heft to it, a sensible two-finger handle, and it�s in a dark colour which should absorb any available radiant energy and thus keep my tea warm.

Unfortunately, the damn thing doesn�t fit in the dispensing area of our mini-kitchen�s magic robotic tea machine that dispenses a liquid that is �almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea�.

However, imbued with the spirit of the Stig, I took a typical Top Gear approach to the problem. Using a miniature crowbar (aka a wooden stirring stick), I pried up the drain covering and wedged my mug in the sump below. This allowed the Stig to shower beneath the heavenly beverage and I am now once again swilling tannic acid and caffeine.

Samsung's Eco Phone

2009-02-17T15:05:20Z

A couple of weeks ago, I attended a peering-into-the-future, what-should-the-BBC-be-doing-on-mobile brainstorming session. It was all right as such things go: interesting, but not particularly useful. I felt it focused too much on the web and ignored any future-gazing that wasn't directly connected to the internet.

I find this happens a lot in new media circles. We�re a spoiled lot, really. And tend to ignore issues like global warming or the economy or plagues of frogs. Instead there was a lot of talk about displays becoming bigger and better, the devices becoming more powerful, and software becoming much more connected. These will, no doubt, affect how people use their mobiles and what place the BBC has in this space, but I think other pressures will also exert their influence (e.g. the need for people to inexpensively monitor flocks of frogs blocking the suns rays).

I�m at the Mobile World Congress in Barcelona now and I�m pleased to report that others do appear to be thinking about the economy and global warming and plagues of frogs (or at least heathcare).

Yesterday I saw Samsung�s new Blue Earth phone which is due to launch later this year. It is has a solar panel on the back of the phone and is made out of recycled plastic bottles. The Samsung rep stressed that they tried to think about every aspect of the product from an environmental perspective. The packaging for instance, is not only made from recycled materials, but is also as lightweight as it can be. The heavier a package is, the more energy required to transport it and the more materials needed in the first place.

It also uses a more energy efficient charger than normal and has a cool built-in pedometer that displays the amount of CO2 you would have generated if you�d driven the same distance you just walked.

Samsung also had on display a couple of concept chargers � one a hand-cranked mobile phone charger and one a dynamo designed to fit on to a bicycle.

I�m quite keen to see this last one in the stores. Motorola announced one at CES in 2007, but a quick google reveals no trace of it since the announcement. I did find one called the PedalPower+ made by a small company in Australia. They don�t appear to have a stand at MWC, though.

I also saw a number of solar powered phones designed for the emerging markets on display. These were very basic models expected to retail for about $30 to $40 USD.

And in the about-bloody-time category the GSM association announced an initiative to create a universal phone charger that will consume 50% less energy on stand-by than today�s chargers. More importantly, by 2012, they hope the majority of new handsets will all use this one charger. The GSMA estimate this may eliminate the need for up to 51,000 tonnes of extra chargers.

Jail Guitar Doors at the Gibson Guitar Studio

2008-12-01T00:09:16Z

Finally! Some meaning for the phrase �Jail Guitar Doors�. Until Thursday, it was just a random song lyric that never made much sense to me. Yes, I know what you�re going to say� poetry, rhythmic connotation� blah blah blah. Sorry. Song title � yes. Song lyric � no. It contains nothing but nouns! Where are the adjectives? Where�s the predicate? Where�s the freaking verb?

Anyway, on Thursday I found out that Jail Guitar Doors is not just a song lyric. It is also an initiative set up by Billy Bragg to provide guitars and other musical instruments to prison inmates. The theory, and it�s a good one, is that they become so obsessed with music they don�t have time to get bored and rend the very fabric of society with their anti-social tendencies.

Also, they are better able to express themselves with means they don�t get all bottled up with rage and sentiment and end up setting fire to a nun or something.

The evening began with a half hour film about the initiative done by a fireman and filmmaker named Alan Miles. It was a good introduction to what it was all about and it really made it feel like there was some good being done here. And, good, in a simple, hands-on, results-showing kind of way.

Afterwards, there was some speechifying. The governor of Brixton prison spoke about what a difference it had made in his institution and encouraged over prisoner governors (of whom several were present) to support it. And there was a particularly moving talk from a woman whose son, Simon, had recently died. The Jail Guitar Doors workshops had a huge impact on him while in prison. It sounded like they were one of the best things that had happened to him in his short life. At Simon�s funeral, friends and family donated funds towards Jail Guitar Doors in lieu of flowers or gifts. She was there to present the cheque to Billy.

Then it was time for the music. Billy opened with a song that had been written in one of the prison guitar sessions called �April Fool�s Day�. It was an enjoyable little ditty that made light of the conditions in prison.

He then introduced a young man who had been released from Guy�s Marsh prison four days previously. He performed a song he had written himself that took the form of a letter to his Mum telling her about his experiences. It was a good song, and he did a good performance. And it really underscored how something like Jail Guitar Doors can make a difference. I got the sense that this song gave him a chance to open up and interact with the world (and perhaps his mother) more honestly than he might have otherwise.

Then Billy did a number of duets with various artists. He sang �Ballad of a Thin Man� with Kieran Leonard, �Redemption Song� with the Reverend John McLure of The Makers, and �Greetings to the New Brunette� with Sam Duckworth of Get Cape, Wear Cape, Fly.

Then there was a bit of a pause while he called for the members of the girl band, The Mentalists, to come on stage. It was a comfortable, everyone-throw-in-a-helping-hand, slightly shambolic event, and a couple of the band were out back and couldn�t hear Billy calling them. To keep the crowd entertained, he played a kind of Folsom Prison version of Pinball Wizard with the Linza, the drummer from the Mentalists.

I�m more and more impressed every time I see this group. Even when they�ve got a bit of drama to overcome, like Thursday night, they always do a great performance.

This time, in particular, I noticed Kellymental, one of the two guitarists. I personally think there aren�t enough female rock and roll guitarists in the world, and Kelly is one of the best I�ve heard.

She�s got focus. From the very first lick she just drops her head and starts bouncing around the stage in time to the beat like a rock and roll raggedy ann doll on a trampoline. It amazes me when people are that energetic on stage and can still actually play. I can�t help but wonder if she�s got some kind of surgical implant in her hip that she clicks the guitar into to keep it firmly in place. Her sound is always so shiny and tasty and fine no matter how much jumping around she gets up to.

The Mentalists played one of their new songs called �Again and Again� and then were joined on stage by Billy for a fine rendition of �A New England�.

All in all, it was a great night for a great cause. If you are a musician who would like to get involved, the governor of a prison, or anyone else who would like to show the support, please check out http://www.jailguitardoors.org.uk/index.htm.

But What�s the Point�

2008-10-20T22:08:09Z

A couple of days ago, I set up a webserver on my phone. Some may see this as a foolish and geeky activity. Some may not understand the boon to productivity and convenience such a thing provides�

I created a bunch of accounts for various friends and sent them out. Now my friends could see exactly where I was thanks to the GPS on my phone; they could send me messages; see whether I was talking on the phone and how much juice I had left in my battery. They could even activate my camera without my knowing and take a picture of the inside of my pocket!

All of which is pretty cool, but kind of useless. However, one thing that is kind of neat is that I installed a couple of yahoo widgets that let me do things like use my laptop to send an SMS through my phone via the web server, or see what missed calls I have.

Ah, I hear you ponder, but isn�t your phone always with you? Aren�t there blue-toothy or usb connectiony things that allow pretty much the same thing?

Here, gentle reader, is where I point out the error of your ways. Right now I am lying in bed annoying my wife by writing this blog entry. My phone is in my office, having its tasty electrons replenished. I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to reply to a text message from an American heiress. What to do? I suppose I could have gotten out of bed and walked to the other room, but what if I�d fallen down the stairs or encountered a burglar or a wildebeest?

Thanks to the webserver on my phone and the Yahoo widget and Tim Berners-Lee I was able to send the message without even wrinkling the duvet.

Of course, if it wasn�t for the stupid web server, the battery on my phone wouldn�t need to be charged and I could have kept it close by while I slept.

Catching the Cheese

2008-09-05T07:11:33Z

I went to France in the backseat of a 1966 Ford Mustang this summer. The Mustang, itself, isn't particularly relevant to this tale, but I just like mentioning it. It was a cool car. Chicks dug me when I was in that car. I'm not sure how they knew I was in it, being as I was in the back seat and all, but I'm sure they did. I could just sense it. I was dug.

France is, however, relevant to this tale. France contains wine, you see. And English ex-pats, trampolines, and cheese.

I may have drunk a little too much wine in France and I ended up having an argument about cheese with my host.

There is, as I am sure you know, a grand British tradition involving chasing a wheel of cheese down a hill in Gloucestershire. It is a very steep hill and many people are injured each year in this dubious sporting activity. It is so steep that my host, a certain Mr. Jordan, maintains that no one has ever caught the cheese.

He made this statement as we kicked soccer balls at a young boy bouncing on a trampoline. I considered his thesis, thought for a moment, and then carefully pointed out that he was a fool and had floppy hair besides.

He pointed out that I was Canadian and so obviously could know nothing about cheese and that my parents were quite possibly elk.

The debate continued along these lines for a bit until we each realized that the other's position was intractable. And so a wager was agreed � �20 each, to be held by a certain Mr. Hampson until we can agree an answer.

My central argument is that hills and cheese and people are all organic entities created either by random cosmic chance or by an obviously mentally unbalanced God. If that is the case, surely, in the last 60 years of cheese rolling, the cheese has got hung up on something or maybe rolled in a bit of an arc or smacked into a passing hedgehog. Any of these scenarios would have caused it to slow down enough to be grasped by one of the multitude of crazed Gloucestershirians flailing down the hill.

The problem for my opponent, of course, is that it is very difficult to prove a negative. How can he be certain no one will pop out of the woodwork with a video of someone catching the cheese.

There is also the question of what is meant by "catching" the cheese.

Mr. Hampson, alluded to above, contacted the Cheese-Rolling society of Gloucestershire to ask if anyone had caught the cheese and received the following reply�

Not to my knowledge. Although the cheese has on some occasions been 'rolled' badly (last year one was overtaken by runners at one point as it rolled flat rather than on its edge) it always picks up speed and gets to the bottom first.
Runners are moving so fast and quite out of control, that they couldn't stop to pick it up if it got stuck anyway!

Actually catching it is really not a priority, just survival!!

"Not to my knowledge" is not very definitive. And anyway, he writes, "last year one was overtaken by runners at one point...". I would argue that "overtaken" is the same as "caught".

In any case, I'm putting a shout out to the multitude. Please come forward if you have ever caught the cheese. Video evidence is preferable, but I will be satisfied with hearsay or rumour.

If it is generally agreed that I have won the bet, I vow to donate the winnings to Children in Need at http://www.justgiving.com/ibcbikeride/. I hereby challenge the deeply misguided Mr. Jordan to be so generous.

Cycling from Cardiff to London (via Amsterdam) for the Kids

2008-08-31T18:01:53Z

I am, once again, doing a mad cycle ride. This is the biggest one yet. I�ll be starting in Wales, cycling coast to coast across England, popping across the North Sea and then riding for another two days across Holland to reach Amsterdam. I plan to hang out there for a couple of days, take a deep breath (hopefully of air not too laden with THC), and then sprint pell-mell for London.

Did you notice the phrase �coast to coast� up there? This is not an exaggeration. We start in Cardiff on the Bristol Channel. This is so much the Western Coast of England that it�s actually in a completely different nation. Then we head East across the entire nation of England until we run out of land and smack into the North Sea. The plan is to do this section of the trip in just three days.

The only Canadian equivalent would be starting in Hyder, Alaska and cycling until you hit Halifax. So, in a way, it�s as if we were travelling 6,742km over three days! Assuming we didn�t have to stop to sleep or take pictures of enormous easter eggs, we would have to maintain an average speed of more than 187kilometers per hour in order to be able to accomplish this superhuman feat.

It doesn�t stop there, though. We then have to cross the North Sea. Keep in mind that no one has ever successfully accomplished this on a bicycle.

And then there is the Netherlands� This is a country that by all rights should be under the unrelenting suffocation of the sea. At any moment, the dykes could fail and we could all drown. Not to mention the threat from windmills, which are, effectively, gigantic cuisinarts. And the cheese! My God, People! The country is awash in cheese and tulips. To be honest, I�m not sure what the danger is here, but isn�t that the point? Who knows what dangers await in this land of curds and petals?

So, assuming I make it to Amsterdam, which, as we all know, is a city filled with dopers, prostitutes, and museums, I then have to find my way home. The plan is to take five days to get there at, as I have mathematically proven above, 187 kilometers per hour. However, the timetable to return gives us only two days. Again, using almost irrefutable mathematics, this would mean I would have to cycle at more than 280 kilometers per hour. To put this in perspective, this is the top speed of a BMW M5. Let's see Clarkson top that with any of his infernal combustioney toys.

Surely, all this means that you should take out your VISA card and donate a few quid at http://www.justgiving.com/ibcbikeride/.

You can also follow our progress and our preparations at http://www.ibcbikeride.co.uk/.

House of 1833

2008-08-05T23:05:41Z

More pics of the House of 1833

My new favourite place in the world is a B&B called The House of 1833 in Mystic, Connecticut. Mystic is almost directly north of the eastern tip of Long Island. From New York City, you can either drive along the mainland, or go directly east until you run out of Long Island, and then catch a ferry across to Connecticut. We decided on the latter.

We left Manhattan about 11:30am on a Friday. It took us half an hour just to get from the rental agency on 31st and 7th to the midtown tunnel, and another two and a half hours to get to the far end of the Long Island. We stopped at the town of Greenport, just fifteen minutes short of the ferry terminal at Orient Point. I�d made a reservation for the 4:00pm sailing so we had plenty of time for a late lunch at a place called Claudio�s on the Greenport marina. The crossing to New London took about an hour and twenty minutes and was fueled, on our part at least, by gooey chocolate chip cookies. From there it was another twenty minutes to the House of 1833 about 3 miles north of Mystic proper.

At the B&B the next morning we talked to a couple who had left New York about the same time we had. They took the interstate along the mainland and it took them about the same amount of time it took us, mainly because of traffic. I suspect we had a more enjoyable trip.

The hosts of 1833 are Robert and Evan. Evan is a charming, talkative man who greeted us with sherry and fresh-baked cookies, then took us on a tour of the house. It is one of those B&B�s that is jam-packed with Stuff. Evan told us about much of the Stuff. I remember being entertained at the time but none of it stuck in my head, which, come to think of it, is how much of my schooling went as a child.

One thing I do remember him telling us about is the Jacuzzi in our room. �It�s the largest rectangular one they make,� he said. �And it has a two and a half horsepower motor for the jets and another one and a half horsepower motor just to keep the water at an even temperature.�

�Fantastic!� I said. �Do you mind if we take it downstairs and take it for a spin around the pool?�

�I absolutely insist,� he said. �The Jacuzzi is there to use as you wish. But you may want to try out our sea-monster instead. It�s already down there and much lighter to carry around. We�ve also got a turtle and a giant lobster.�

After we checked in we made a bee-line for the pool and, sure enough, found a sea monster, a turtle, and a giant lobster stacked in a pile. These were inflatable toys big enough for us to ride around on in the pool. Vicki and I had a couple of races. Two lengths of the pool astride the plastic sea creature of our choice. I won the first race. She won the second.

That evening we went for dinner at the Captain Daniel Packer Inn in Mystic. Robert and Evan happened to be going into town and they kindly offered to give us a ride. The car was very comfortable, perhaps because the backseat was carpeted in a thick layer of dog hair.

The restaurant had a warm friendly feel. Shortly after sitting down I was hit in the foot with a chunk of lobster shell. This served as an introduction to our neighbours at the next table. However, I don�t think this is a traditional means of breaking the ice in Mystic. Later in the evening I eavesdropped on a couple of silver-haired gentleman intent on hooking up with a table of four foxy ladies born only a decade or two later than they were. If the lobster ploy had been a common one, I feel sure they would have used it. Instead, they employed the time-honoured technique of leaning on the ladies� table and making shouted small talk until a waiter asked them to return to their seats.

Once there, they had a few dozen more drinks and plotted their next move. One typical chat-up line they rehearsed was �Would you like to get dinked in a dingy?�

The next morning we experienced another great aspect of the House of 1833 � the breakfast. We started with peach cobbler and slices of melon followed by a choice of two quiches: a Mexican quiche and a spinach and cheese quiche served with delicious home fries. Robert made the quiches with rice flour as one of the guests was gluten-intolerant. I had a bit of both and then another bit of both and then some more home fries. It was perhaps the best B&B breakfast I�ve ever had.

What else? It had free WiFi, and there was a little mini fridge by the kitchen with complementary bottles of water and cans of pop for the guests. Monopoly and Scrabble and other games were available in the lounge. There is a tennis court. And the town of Mystic and surrounding area promised many cool attractions which we didn�t get a chance to indulge in. There is apparently a beautiful Victorian music hall in nearby East Haddam which specializes in American musicals. Both Man a la Mancha and Annie premiered here.

But the main attraction was the warm, welcoming attitude of Evan and Robert. I truly felt they had welcomed us as friends.

Napping in New York

2008-07-31T22:50:18Z

I�m on holiday and a wee bit tired. The day before yesterday, I forgot my wallet at work. At the time I didn�t know where I�d forgotten it. All I knew was that it wasn�t where I expected it to be. Maybe I hadn�t forgotten it at all. Maybe I had been pick-pocketed. Admittedly, this was unlikely as I was wearing lycra, but possible.

As I was due to get on a flight to New York the next day, I hightailed it back to work to find it, which I did, which was good news. However, it meant I spent a total of four hours on the bike that day (80km), the last 2 hours of which was when I had been planning to pack etc, so this had a knock-on effect as far as getting to sleep etc.

Work was typically busy the next day. My last action before fleeing the premises for 10 days was to bang out an email which will no doubt have caused conniptions to be had and palpitations to be palpated and fans to be hit with excrement. Sometimes these things just can�t be avoided. I suspect it will all be for the greater good in the long run, and neither the timing nor the conniptions were premeditated. In fact, a bit more pre-meditation and thought on my part may have prevented any conniptions, but oh well, what�s the point of living if you don�t get folks� blood to the boiling point every now and then.

Immediately following the conniption-spawning, I hightailed it to Heathrow�s new Terminal Five which is basically a posh shopping mall. Following my wife�s strict instructions, I had a cocktail and a snack at the new Gordon Ramsay restaurant while I waited for my gate to be announced on the board by the bar.

The flight was fine. I watched two and three quarter movies and envied the group of young trendy Italians surrounding me who managed to become best friends with the steward despite, or perhaps because of, their almost constant calls for more wine, pillows, headsets, and more wine. I might have tried to insinuate myself into their party except that I was buffered by a scary woman with a bouffant hairdo and wobbly arms who obviously disapproved of them.

My only disappointment on the journey was that we landed before I could watch the end of the great Will Ferrell epic, Semi-Pro. The Italians and the riveting cinema meant that I didn�t get much sleep on the flight.

And so, today, the first day of my great adventure in the City that Doesn�t Sleep, has been spent mostly napping.