Houston, we have a conference

A bit of a day of firsts for me, yesterday (or at least, the past 36 hours or so, thinking in terms of days is challenging at the moment). Getting into the Virgin Atlantic lounge was one, all lovely and great and all but somehow not quite the land of dreams I'd hoped for. Perhaps, because we only had about 30 minutes in there, I didn't really get the full effect. That said, it was a damn sight better than the alternative, fast track security and free wine and all.

Second on my list was actually flying Virgin, which it sort of surprises me I've not done before for some reason. Although the promised upgrade to Upper Class didn't materialise, I was in Premium Economy, which is better than it sounds. I spent most of the flight in the bar being force-fed red Bordeaux by the barman.

Third was actually being late for a flight. I know how anal this sounds, but this is something I just. don't. do, and haring through Newark airport trying to negotiate the (irritatingly chatty) immigration and customs people, pick my bags up, re-check in, go through security AGAIN (this time with the plebs) and get to the gate isn't really my idea of fun. Travelling's mental enough without that sort of stress, and to top it all we proceeded to spend the next hour on the tarmac. Fortunately, for some reason I was in first class, which meant there was a lovely lady on hand to make sure my wine glass didn't get empty. So much so that I had to pretend to be asleep so she'd stop.

So after all this, we got into Houston at about midnight-ish, which as far as my body was concerned was 0600. Getting a good 6 hours' sleep meant today's been reasonably ok, but I'm not sure how tonight's going to be - a networking cocktail thing followed by a dinner we're hosting for some people or other. I'm currently wearing a pink striped shirt with a frankly enormous collar, which I'm rather enjoying - most Merkins are so excruciatingly dull and conservative with what they wear that I'm standing out as if I was wearing a clown suit.

Fortunately we're taking cabs everywhere. I don't imagine they like pink shirt-wearers here, it's still very much a moustache and cowboy hat sort of place*. Over lunch, I was introduced to the various forms of the contraction 'y'all': 'y'all' refers to one person. 'All y'all' refers to more than one person.  And, dear god, 'y'all's' means 'your'.

Needless to say, my accent has moved into the sort of RP register of which Laurence Olivier would have been proud. I might even start drinking tea.

 

*yes, the irony hasn't gone unnoticed. The Village People are probably seen as 'good hard-workin' decent men, 'cept for that injun' by those who remember them.

Sore head, busy week ahead...

I am physically destroyed. We went to a wedding reception last night, which was brilliant, danced like fools and drank like bigger fools, and wore a lovely new suit which I'd bought the previous week at Ted Baker as part of a horrifying splurge of clothes-buying. Tremendous event it was, both bride and groom looking superb and very happy indeed.

But this morning was a bit of a challenge. In fact, the whole day has been, and I'm a little concerned about the impact this is going to have on the week to come. You see, I found out on Tuesday afternoon that I'm being sent over to Houston (yep, the one in Texas) for a week to attend a conference over there. I'm flying out on Sunday afternoon, back on Friday morning, mental schedule in between and hopefully I won't have to present.

Now, today should be the day on which I print out all the stuff I'll need in order to get onto flights and into hotels etc, and although I'm fairly sure I've done all I need, I'm also acutely aware that I turn into a bit of an idiot whilst hungover so I'm bound to have forgotten something crucial. Ah, well.

So there we are, little me representing my company's retail function to lots of Merkins. It's either going to be REALLY REALLY GREAT or horrible, and I've decided to shoot for the former. If there's interweb access at the Houston Holiday Inn Express (I know), I'll see if I can squeeze out a blog entry or two whilst I'm there. Wish me luck...

Exits are here, here, and...

Good lord - has it really been that long since I posted anything? Things have been rather hectic since, admittedly, but there is an element of laziness about the last few weeks that I'd be wrong to deny. My running record to the right says all you need to know about that.

Work-wise, am more in Cambridge than anywhere else at the moment, have managed to get rid of the Bradford thing (I think) and am back billing more or less full time. The Cambridge thing is taking a little time to get off the ground, which is how come I'm writing personal blog entries during office hours.

Recent non-work things have been somewhat more eventful, me finally cashing in the Kiwi's birthday present from last year on the weekend and flying an actual HELICOPTER, of which I'm inordinately proud. 30 minutes in the air was all it took to convince me that 1. it's brilliant and 2. I'm crap at it.

Now, I can pat my head and rub my tummy at the same time, which I've been told qualifies one to be a helicopter pilot. Although I've suspected for some time that the actual exam is a little more taxing than this, the real dexterity required to pilot something that moves across all planes of movement using highly sensitive controls is something else entirely.

So, when the instructor hands you the controls, with the aircraft in a perfect hover, and you make no perceptible change to any of them AND YET the thing lurches violently 30 feet to the left and jumps 20 feet in the air whilst lazily spinning anticlockwise, you start to appreciate why he's been so smug for the past 20 minutes or so. Brilliant fun.

In other news, we've got ourselves a Wii Fit. It's ace. Oh, and I've entered the London Duathlon, so I'll let you know how that goes. I think I need to get my bike out of the cupboard sooner rather than later.

The (very) cold light of day

And so back to earth with something of a thud. The flight back wasn't too bad, all things considered, but it was still 24 hours in the air and two in Hong Kong getting continual electric shocks from the luggage trolley and marvelling at their rather groovy new airport. Monday, returning at 1400ish, was a bit of a challenge, and Tuesday was just plain weird. I'm almost back to normal, I think.

So, work. Although Kathryn's earlier and highly perceptive comment about my apparent work/life balance does strike something of a chord with me, I'm going to give you all a quick work update nonetheless, as I'm sure you're all simply dying to know what the latest is in the ongoing saga.

The plan, as I think I might have mentioned, was for me to roll off the Irish thing upon going on hols, and to be onto something new on my return. This spectacularly hasn't happened, and as such I'm stuck in this role until the start of next month, whilst the project manager goes on holiday himself. I'm feeling pretty sanguine about it though, it's another month of billable work which means the whole of this quarter will be, and so hello bonus. Which is nice.

To be honest, the past three weeks have reoriented the Kiwi and myself a fair bit. With the prospect of moving to NZ now a firm reality, priorities have shifted towards making plans, saving cash and (in my case) working out what to do with the mountain of debt left over from my misspent youth that I'm still shovelling through. We're also keeping an eye on the Auckland housing market (slowly slipping... fingers crossed for a monumental crash) and the exchange rate (currently in my favour, not that great for sending pounds over though).

So, work-wise the remainder of this year will be centred around reading worthy work-related books (have just hit Amazon up for a load of very dull but probably useful books), not spending any money at all and getting some relevant training out of work before I leave. Oh, and trying to get a new job in a city 20,000km+ away without actually being there.

I've also promised myself that if at any point I don't use the gym at least twice a week, I'm cancelling my membership, as it's currently costing me around NZ$160 a month, which would pay for a sofa or something within a year, I'm sure. Although reading that, the irony of trading a gym membership in for a sofa isn't lost on me.

This could get interesting...

Sniffle, Cough, Flight, PIE!

Looking back on recent holidays, this is happening to me with alarming frequency: I AM ILL. Again. This time it's a particularly evil little virus that's had me incapacitated all weekend and is still, STILL poking at my sinuses with spiky poking sticks and leaving horrid things in my lungs and banging on my head incessantly. All this despite first attempting the holistic healthy approach and then, faced with a deadline of Wednesday morning to get well again, attacking it with good ol'fashioned over the counter Drugs.

The deadline of Wednesday looms because Wednesday is the day upon which we embark on an aeroplane journey which will end on Friday morning. Leaving Heathrow at around 1400 on the 12th. Arriving in LA at 2000 on the 12th. Arriving in Auckland in the early morning of the 15th. Arriving in Brisbane some time later that day. What happened to the 14th? Lord only knows. I'm trying to get my head around this but frankly it's beyond me, so I've voted to just screw my eyes tight shut from the London tarmac until when someone says 'Welcome to Brizbin'.

The journey back is simpler. Leaving Auckland at midnight, we arrive in London at around lunchtime that day, the only problem is that 24 hours will have passed in the meantime.

In the meantime we'll have had a brilliant time I'm sure, and I'm really looking forwards to catching up with the Family Kiwi and the Auckland lot (not to mention those in Hamilton and Hawkes Bay), and everything in between. I'm sure photos will follow.

So tonight we're packing (and I'm secretly looking forwards to the flight out, so long as I'm virus free at the time), and having a couple of the best pies in the world (sorry NZ, I do mean literally the best). One more day of work... then we're off. Bloody brilliant.

Oh. One more thing. When I said 'we're packing', I actually meant 'the Kiwi's packing'. I'm on the sofa being poorly.

How crap are BA air miles?

I prefer not to use my blog for stuff like this but I can't hold this one in. Ok here we go. Why do you join a frequent flyer program? No, it's not for the free flights, because you rarely earn enough points to actually get one. You join these schemes because, after saving a few points, you get to go in the airport lounges, so that instead of spending the 45 minutes you invariably have to wait for your flight in a comfy chair instead of on a bench.

Now, recently the Kiwi and I booked a hire car (as regular readers will know). We booked this specific one because it got me 500 extra BA points. Woo. Looking at my balance, I should be nearly a Silver member by now, and I can almost taste the lounge.

However, these (plus the ones I've got from recent flights) are ornery air miles. They (if I save until I'm 50 I might get a free ride between terminals at Gatwick) don't affect my VIP level. You can only get these 'special' points by flying on very specific flights, which of course BA won't tell you about.

What a monumental pile of arse. Here's hoping my Aer Lingus points don't have the same effect. Pier B at Dublin airport is no place for a sane person to spend any time at all.

Flying

There's always something a little unreal about travelling to Dublin like this. I think it's got something to do with getting up at 0445 and stumbling dreamlike through the passages from home to tube to plane to bus to office. It doesn't entirely leave one in a suitable frame of mind for presenting complex multi-million Euro business models.

This morning, though, has been unusually calming. I've found that as I've got used to the journey (although I've not been too much lately), I've started to notice littler things about it which sort of take the edge off - the example this morning which prompted me to get out the laptop and document it before coming back down to earth was on take-off.

London was covered in thick fog this morning, the resultant gloom confusing the mind into thinking it was earlier than it was. Surging off the runway, the Airbus 321 broke through the fog within 10 seconds or so, into glorious sunlight and clear blue skies.

I don't think I'll ever get bored of flying. I know it's quotidian and mundane to many of us these days, but there's something about the seeming impossibility of getting off the ground, travelling so fast and ending up in a completely different country (and in Dublin's case, a completely different century) that never ceases to fascinate. You'd have to be pretty dull-minded not to marvel in childish wonder at it all, you really would.

Anyway, today's the last day of this sprint. The Irish project is still barrelling forwards, alarming some and exciting others. The Project Manager, with whom I'm getting on much better now I'm more comfortable in my role, is on holiday next week, leaving me to pick up from him and drive the project forwards into the next phase. Hopefully this time I'll be able to get a proper handover and won't end up feeling like the idiot I did last time.

And tonight - the perennially amazing Maximo Park at Brixton Academy. I've not seen them since the release of their last album earlier this year and, although I've seen this lot more often than any other act, I'm still so looking forwards to it - it's guaranteed to be brilliant.