Tuesday, October 11

 

 

I wore gloves for the first time today as I walked from Kalasatama to Arcada, listening to a later Bruce Cockburn album.

I spent most of the day working with a variety of tools trying to work out what configuration I needed to make a Foundation-based WordPress theme in record time. I gave myself two days to make one. The tools I decided to use included phpStorm and Scout, which seems the best Sass monitor I can imagine, assuming you don’t think using the command line interface makes you a master coder. Which I don’t.

I spoke to Naa who felt despondent about her performance in this morning’s online examination. I pointed out that nobody can actually know how they did on a multiple choice test, unless they did nothing at all.

I paused to accept a couple of meetings and bat away a couple more; to answer some emails and not answer some more. I ate avocado and blue cheese sandwiches for lunch.

In the afternoon I had a chat with Oliver about creating a digital toolkit for Pixelache and I suggested that we organise a meeting for next month. He pointed out that the Datalab project set out to do just this, and I replied that it will still do it, only now it will form part of the convivial mechanics project. In other words it will aim to find a sufficient and effective toolkit for small, distributed organisations. We will meet in about three weeks time.

I got home to find Irma out at a meeting. She arrived home minutes later and I went for a walk.

I set off on my first long walk for a week or so and went through the woods and along the lengthy path to the ring road. I have walked down that and now I can see Itis across the road. In the autumn dusk it has started to look like a big Christmas decoration. Certainly it looks nothing like summer.

I turn left and walk rapidly home, completing the whole circuit in less than an hour, while continuing to listen to Bruce Cockburn’s You’ve Never Heard Everything.

Later in the evening Irma will read to me for forty five minutes from the notes that she has made in diary form since Auo’s death. Neither of us will get to sleep when we go to bed.