samedi 24 mai 2003

Choice morsels from the 'canteen' "No more internet," said my mum on the 'phone, after asking for a quick rundown on what blogging is. It wasn't an order. Just a conversational request from somebody to whom the whole world of the Net remains alien and unnerving. For her, a computer is a word-processor and something other people use for work. Full stop. Over lunch at the "canteen", my very wired buddy François gave me such a lucid explanation of MP4s - the codec and the multimedia products, which have their own site (QuickTime 6 or Windows Media Player, plus rapid registration needed) - and Div-X (now easier on Mac OS X if you can be bothered), that I suggested he'd make a good teacher were he not perfectly happy right now "between jobs". He's got projects a-plenty, including a happy notion of taking himself to Tahiti for a break. Now, what I didn't know, until I asked François how he found it so easy to explain rather complicated things so clearly, was just where he'd started out in telecommunications, multimedia and computer operating systems. "It helps," he replied, "when sometimes you can be about three years ahead of the game. "When something new comes along, it just goes 'whoosh' in your face and you try to understand it, work out what it all means, throw it away if you want. But once you've turned it all around in your head, it's much simpler than it at first seemed." The man has been in the game since the '80s. Met Steve Jobs a handful of times and knows the tales of Apple, Jean-Louis Gassée and France, which has given me some geek-browsing to do (places like 'Infomania', 'L'Aventure Apple', BeOS sites, NeXT and O'Reilly's history of Cocoa...) Oh yeah, and there was plenty of open source stuff too. But that's by the by. Because Mr Demeyer has a far worse sin to his name than being steeped in systems of great interest to me, but none to people like my mum or the wildcat. Rather more "Googled" in at least two languages than he, er ... pretends? ..., young François put France on the Net. Not all by himself, of course. So I couldn't blame him single-handedly for "all that pollution we've got now, then." Nor does he want my useless Minitel printer back. Now there was an expensive way of printing out online bank accounts! And a machine whose very keyboard drove me mad. All I need to know now is whether this is the same François D. behind some of those music posts scattered on the Net. Because if, as I suspect, it is, then we've got even more in common to talk about than sci-fi, hi-tech and sunny paradise dreams... After that, Jean-Paul, who's his equally entertaining and dry-witted weekend lunch partner, it's your turn. Fair warning? Kamel served up the nosh and also lent me a photo of the big news of his own. "Hallo, Ilyas. Bienvenue à l'avenir!" He's a good reason to disappear to Morocco for a couple of months, which is where Kamel's lovely spouse, Nouzha, comes from. She and Ilyas will be back in about three weeks. "And back to work here?" asked François, in the kind of voice where an "as of course she must" went unspoken, after managing an almost passable avoidance of one of those "they all look the same to me" expressions. I just teased Kamel for not having a pic of the little feller with his mum, but it turned out he'd kind-heartedly only produced half a dozen snaps out of a mere three rolls of film. When I asked who the man in the background of one of them was, first Jean-Paul had to repeat the question, then Kamel said: "What man?" Had gently to be shown. Yes. Well. Jean-Paul's been there too, he knows how it is. It's a wonder we got decently fed at all. As for François, I fear the only cure for a certain comment on the lines of "no kids all over my place" might be to unleash Marianne and her views on his CD and/or sci-fi collection. If he can cope with that without laughing, he could probably even persuade my mother that e-mail is not the end of the world. Ilyas. There are two things you might need to know. One is that - there's no end to his wickedness - François called you a "pizzaiola amoeba". And the other is that your dad has already decided you're not destined for the restaurant trade. Today's last tidbit from the canteen is more good news for the quartier as a whole. Enough perhaps even to merit a return visit from Patricia, Zoë and their respective fellers, with others who've abandoned the area of late for bigger flats in other parts of town. Just round the corner, L'Entrepôt lives again. Even the flyer they're putting out (extract here) has an instant appeal. Back in the "peace and love" days, this old print warehouse was turned into a lively arts cinéma-cum-club by Frédéric Mitterand, who introduced me to Somalia with a 1983 movie that really didn't do very well. His international reputation took off with 'Madame Butterfly' 12 years later. L'Entrepôt's reputation, by contrast, saw many ups and downs, mostly downs, after its first change of hands, when it became a gathering place for feminists, viz. 'les Gauchos' (French). Andreas frequented the place and notably took me with him to see Chomsky on screen. A union Christmas dinner there much more recently was OK despite some appalling food. I've not yet tried the latest, most reasonably priced "formule", but those who have are full of praise. As for the music, check it out for yourselves. Things are going to brighten up around here even more. 11:58:27 PM  link   your views? [] Gripes and ... thanks Michael Fish, who seems to have been giving us the weather since I was born, but only really began 32 years ago, told Britain this much: "It's going to be a lovely day -- on Tuesday. But, between now and then, we've got a bank holiday weekend." That was yesterday. The veteran was right. And thoroughly nasty it is this morning, though one of the rituals of 'Today' cheered me: Victim: "With all due respect, John, blah, blah, blah..." 'Harrumph' Humphrys: "Not true!" Victim: "If you'll just let me finish what I'm saying, blah, burble, bull..." H.H.: "You're not answering the question." Victim: "? xxx" (since the response to this one varies widely, depending on who and what is at issue.) Last month, Matt Wells in the 'The Guardian' dubbed J.'H'.H. "the BBC's breakfast rottweiler" in an announcement that it's he who'll revive another national institution, 'Mastermind'. I thought it was the same paper that recently accused 'Today' of "going soft". If it was, I can't find the feature, which I dismissed anyway as another "oh for the golden age" fancy. Whatever. The programme is a reassuring part of my own routines. Unlike the weather. "Not that again!" you cry. Not really, no. But a little "factoid" (as RHP occasionally calls things at TS) is this. Just a decade ago, the Paris weather was an almost clockwork prediction based on forecasts by Fish and friends. What they annnounced for southeast England would come our way one or two days later. Yup. That's how I did it. Better than Météo France. No longer. The pattern today is that we've already got what they've got over there. Or the opposite. It's one pattern I'd like to understand better. I could do with a bit more routine right now. As well as the return of some long-lasting sunshine. It's those costly calls to the wildcat or a big new halogen lamp to replace the one that finally exploded last month, but not both. The 'phone, of course, comes first. The past fortnight has seen one unpredictable development after another, which reached crescendo point yesterday. I hope so, anyway. An unwarranted detail is this morning's unexpected and comforting return to the evacuation of something solid. Or thus it was for 20 minutes, when it merely proved to be a case of "Après moi, le déluge" (an expression which, for anybody interested, gets a mention at another reference place of the kind some people like to keep handy, the Phrase Finder. Enough! I won't have one reader left out there if I blog much of what transpired yesterday with regard to my bowels, the occasional vomiting as well now, and the outcome of further tests. The news isn't great, but could be far worse. Clever Karin! In a couple of weeks all should be clear, but already virtually everything indeed points to Crohn's disease or a "Crohn clone". And that would be perfectly manageable. "You do realise what changes this will make in your life, don't you?" Marianne's mum, who works in a pioneering pharmaceuticals firm, sensibly asked. "Yes, dear." I haven't been short of time to check it all out. Andreas said with his characteristic generosity, "What's money?" And what's another drug or two, plus the rest of it, to add to a short lifelong list? It's not as if I'm in darkest Africa. Until we can start treatment, the fatigue can be draining, but I can handle it. Yesterday's entry about "gurus" of sorts didn't land there by accident. The mistake was finishing it on a Friday night and posting it when the "line" to the server in the States was so damned busy that I could only get rid of all the blunders this morning. zzz That's it! End of grizzle in the drizzle. I just needed the lunch-time outing. This health business is a little pricey now that the "canteen" has begun to become part of an almost daily routine and I don't think I'll get that back from the Sécu! What's been bugging me much more than the bug and minor budgetary disorder has been fretting over the eternal things left undone that ought to have been and others just accomplished which, perhaps, ought not to have been. Sorry to be cryptic, but if there's one thing I enjoy less than the feeling of not being in control of my own life (as best as anybody can), it's what can sometimes become the "imperative" of briefly taking charge of somebody else's. Well, I hope I did right. Responsibility is fine, just as long as it doesn't transgress bounds to become theft. The expression "It's for your own good!" has long been one to stick in my craw. zzz Forget the grumbles. I really want to say a big "Thanks" to quite a number of people who've been worrying about me or simply asking! All over the place they are, it would seem, like the last time I had a spot of medical bother a few years ago. Yup, the blog is, well ... therapeutic on occasion. I sure needed those "mentors" this week, alive in mind if not all on earth, but the notes coming in and the words being passed on are valued just as much. 4:32:44 PM  link   your views? []

nick b. 2007 do share, don't steal, please credit under artistic licence terms; contributing friends (pix, other work) retain their rights.